#and usually its just a passing thought but it's Really Fucking Vivid And Bad Right Now and I think im gonna cry and I hate myself

[1kook]

attachment: 1 image

— jjk x (f) reader

summary; But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere. warnings; sexting, dick pics, dirty talk?, phone sex, vivid depictions of jungkook being just so sexy bc its true, rating; mature (18+) misc; mentions of youtuber kook 🥰, he’s just horny, stupid selfie trends (see here), he’s a little whiny but so hot v.v  wc; 4.6k 

notes; I've had this in my drafts since april 😐 n then i was like maybe we should actually finish this so i started n then last night i hit another follower milestone!!! so then i rlly forced myself to finish this bc i was so 🥺🖤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anyway enjoy lmk what u think its not proofread bc uhhhhh yeah 🤩

You’re at work when it happens.

It’s sometime between your usual listless thoughts of what to write for your weekly reflection papers for some course, and your trip to your store’s pharmacy to bother a coworker. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your work apron. You’re normally pretty good at ignoring the sound, most of the times it’s just a classmate asking for help on homework or Jimin lamenting his love life, so you’ve grown used to ignoring the tiny vibrations, stocking a quarter shelf of different cooking oils before something in your brain tells you to check your phone.

You already know it’s not something grave, but that thought alone means nothing at the sight of the tiny jungkook♡ that appears at the very top of the list of notifications. Your boyfriend’s texts tended to be wildcards, never following a certain routine or alluding to any specifics. He could send you a long paragraph on how much he misses the scent of that one shampoo, the one you’d briefly run through last year because your usual brand was out of stock, with a ten point explanation on why you should switch back to it. Or two word, caveman sentences that drove you crazy because you never understood what exactly he wanted when he’d send those nondescript “munchies dip” texts.

You unlock your phone, clicking to the messenger app instead of directly on the notification. Hopefully the preview will give some warning on whether you should invest in this conversation or not. You hated the read receipts on messages, choosing to ghost conversations as you pleased, but Jungkook had wiggled his way into your phone one afternoon and specifically turned them on for his chat with you, and you’d never turned them off since. So he knows if you choose to ignore Attachment: 1 Image at 1:43pm exactly, and he'll pester you about it until you respond.

You contemplate it all for twenty seconds. It could be a variety of things, you guess, but the only way to find out is to actually see with your own eyes what he’s up to this time. He knows better than to distract you at work, is usually really good at waiting until your shift is over to spam you with messages. For him to send you something now, only a few hours into your shift, is uncharacteristic of him.

But you glance down the aisle anyway, taking note of some elderly woman you’d helped a few minutes prior and another teenager aimlessly walking around, probably looking for the snack aisle. You inhale and press down on your chat with Jungkook.

It takes you a moment to make out exactly what the image is, twisting and turning your phone around as you fight to see it without raising the brightness. It’s only when your eyes finally adjust to the dark screen, the faint beeping of the check-out registers fading into the distance, that you realize it’s a shot of the front of his sweatpants.

“Hm?” you murmur, getting brave enough to pinch the image between two fingers, zooming in until you’re able to decipher a multitude of details. For one, there’s a Flaming Hot Cheeto stain on the hem of his sweatpants, the same one you’d accidentally put on there a few weeks back and haven’t been able to wash out since. Then there’s that huge palm of his, tattoos and all, rested carefully against his thigh. It’s veiny and thick in all the right places, bringing all the attention to his knuckles, which you guess is what he was going for when you consider the centerpiece of the image—his hardened dick straining against the grey material.

There’s no text attached to the message, no snapchat font slapped over the image, so you wonder what exactly he wanted you to do with this information mid-shift. Well, realistically, you know exactly what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you won’t clown him before getting there. After all, Jungkook was seldom the naughty texter; sexting annoyed him, he would whine, because he would do all that and not even get to feel the true pleasure of sex, of being inside you. You’ve dabbled in it here and there, but it never went as perfectly as it did in pornos. He’d drop his phone and forget it, or you would straight up ignore the damn device as you went all in on yourself.

But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere.

you what’s this about?

You decide to play it safe, because as exciting as the image of Jungkook at his computer chair, cock hard and angry at the thought of you, fluffy hair ruffled in that way you adored, jaw twitching and tightening as he touched himself, moaned deep and rough and just how you liked and—

As nice as that image was, for all you knew this vague message was Jungkook sending you a picture from a week ago to purposefully fuck with you at work.

jungkook♡ what time u get off? jungkook♡ miss you bad baby

Your stomach flips, and it takes everything in you to not squeal and bounce between the shelves like a toddler on a sugar rush. Here was your boyfriend, the cutest, sweetest boy, sending you dirty pictures of himself and telling you how much he needed you. Yes, YOU, not some random on the street, or someone else in a club, Jungkook needed pleasure and that pleasure could only come from you.

You glance back down the aisle again, checking your surroundings for the second time that day. You’ve been standing here, stock cart empty for a little over five minutes now, so it’s probably best to change location lest your manager come barking down your neck. You send one quick text before heading off for stock again.

you 4pm :(

Your phone dings again just as you’re leaving the stockroom, but you decide to check it once you get to the hygiene aisle you need to work on next. Still, the prospect of Jungkook having texted you has you walking with a skip in your step, one your coworker teases you about when you pass by her.

jungkook♡ fuck jungkook♡ tell me what panties youre wearing jungkook♡ please ?

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from smiling at the tone you’d picked up from his message. There was no doubt he’d been riled up for a while now, and you wonder if he sat through his usual Saturday morning streams with his cock hard, pushed against the edge of his desk like you knew he did when such things happened. The thought has you nearly fumbling with a bottle of aloe vera.

you seamless black thong you the one you bought me at the last vs sale

Briefly, you wonder if you should have lied and told him you were wearing that red lace set he’d given you last Valentine’s Day, the one he’d bought with his first big YouTube check. But the beauty of being in a relationship with someone like Jungkook is that you could have told him you were wearing grandma undies and he’d still think you were the most beautiful person to grace the planet.

jungkook♡ mm jungkook♡ tiny ones u ruined last time?

You set your phone down, speed stock a row of sunscreen like you’re on some shelf stocking national competition, before daring to text Jungkook again. Your cheeks are still warm, and your hand tightens dangerously around a bottle of shaving cream.

Before you can formulate some response, he’s sending another one in.

jungkook♡ u soaked those jungkook♡ came fast that day jungkook♡ want u so bad

Your cheeks burn, a little embarrassed that he remembers such details. As with all Victoria’s Secret panties, they were, like Jungkook said, extremely thin. You pause, shift your stance just barely, but you’re definitely wet. Not terribly so, but with this fabric, you’d start to notice it sooner than with others.

you mm you makin me wet bunny

It’s not a complete lie, but knowing Jungkook this is exactly what he needs to hear to get that competitive streak going. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, stocking another section of men’s shaving cream. It takes longer for him to message you back, and you wonder if he got off fine on his own. If it’s over now, at least he provided you with some distraction midway into your shift.

When he texts you again, you’ve almost completely convinced yourself he’s finished, so the Attachment: 1 Video that appears on your lock screen throws you for a loop.

It’s a short clip, no longer than ten seconds, but it has you scrambling to lower the volume on your device as some unsuspecting mother of two wanders past. You flash her your practiced smile, the same one you give all the store’s customers. Not like your boyfriend is jacking it off on your phone, shallow pants filtering out from the speakers.

You turn your phone over carefully after she leaves, try to at least pretend you’re still doing your job as you play the video again.

Sweats are gone, but boxers remain. Legs deliciously exposed, thick thighs with muscles that ripple when he moves. Shirt pulled up just slightly to showcase that broad expanse of tummy, cute belly button and defined abs that tighten with each glide of his palm over the outline of his cock. Your mouth fills with drool at the sight. He was so hot.

Your brain hasn’t even processed it yet, all your energy directed towards your clenched pussy, when he shoots another text.

jungkook♡ im so fckin hard jungkook♡ wanna kiss yuo every where baby jungkook♡ come ove r soon ??

Shutting your eyes and counting to ten doesn’t help ward off the sudden wave of horniness that consumes you, but it does remind you of the job you’re supposed to be doing now. You shake your head, as if the image of Jungkook’s dick throbbing beneath his boxers, low voice in your ear, will magically disappear. It doesn’t, and it plagues you even more when you begin stocking a section of sunscreen, numbly instructing yourself on what to do next. Shaving cream, sunscreen, lotion next, you repeat.

It doesn’t help.

Two minutes later and you’re scrambling for the phone you’d hastily tucked into your apron pocket, tapping your passcode in until your messages with Jungkook are pulled up again.

you after work you promise

Your head is absolutely spinning, the coil in your stomach too tight for you to try and be a functioning member of society. Something in you says to sneak off to the bathroom and call him, but your boss is a little bit of a prick when he wants to be, thinks you take too many bathroom breaks as is.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. A curt call of your name has you whirling to face your shelves again, phone tightly pressed against your ribs like maybe it’ll melt into your skin and he won’t see it. At the same time, your sudden fright has you scrambling to turn it off, fingers sloppily pressing against the buttons, hitting the volume like seven times before you eventually feel the familiar click that signals it’s off.

Your boss disappears shortly after, and with his sudden appearance having made every hair on your body stand, you find yourself now slumping against your stock cart. Jesus, that man was a handful to deal with.

The paranoia sticks for a little bit, has you stocking shelf after shelf like a robot until you finish the entire row of hygiene products, back stiff from bending over so much. It’s only when you return to the stockroom ten minutes later that you dare take your phone out again.

A pleasant surprise awaits.

It would appear that during your haste to hide your phone from your boss— Jungkook’s scandalous messages and all —your frantic hands had done something else. A fuzzy picture on your end, a blurry display of lotion bottles you had stacked just before your boss’s impromptu appearance, with no words to accompany them. Normally Jungkook would have ignored that; you frequently sent accidental messages like this, butt texted him, he says.

But there’s something about Jungkook’s horny brain that makes him do stupid things, makes him blow up your phone with a series of question marks, call you four times, whine and fuss in your message thread, and eventually, send you probably the oddest image to date.

jungkook♡ ??? jungkook♡ ????what is that jungkook♡ baby please jungkook♡ I don’t get it ??

jungkook♡ Missed Call (4)

jungkook♡ baby jungkook♡ what does it mean jungkook♡ please ur drivign me insane jungkook♡ jsut wanna hear yuor voice jungkook♡ fuck please just

And then, there’s another one of those cursed Attachment: 1 Image messages.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. You’ve been dating Jungkook for a few months now, know he had that sort of unique personality most college dropouts turned YouTubers do. But every now and then the absurdity of his actions makes you question him still, makes you wonder what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his to warrant such ideas, makes him balance a bottle of body lotion on the thick outline of his cock like this.

Unlike the first few images, this one was taken in front of a mirror. The blinding fluorescent light in his bathroom paints him in a stark color, has every inch of his pretty face on display for you. Rosy cheeks, dewy skin. Perfectly swollen cock straining beneath his grey boxers, curved up against his hip. Shirt pulled up, finally freeing that expanse of muscles on his abdomen, cute little belly button on display once again. The red material is pulled up to his mouth, pearly white teeth biting down on the fabric, and he’s got this flushed expression on his face.

But the real star of the show isn’t his chiseled abdomen or sexy expression, but the sheer hardness of his dick that lets him balance a bottle of body lotion over it, like a fuckin’ shelf or something. He’s so hard, dick so full beneath his boxers. So big too, the little boxers pulled taught around said engorged cock and thick thighs.

Your brain says to laugh, to tease him for being such a clown even when he’s horny as hell. He won’t take it to heart, will probably laugh along with you and you’ll add it to your still growing list of funny memories.

But your caveman libido says call him, so that’s what you do, ducking down behind a new shipment pallet with a squeak as the phone rings. It only lasts four seconds before he picks up, voice breathy and low, but it sounds so loud in the silence of the stockroom.

He doesn’t even let you get a greeting in. “You like my picture, baby?” he husks. It sounds like he’s right there, right beside you, speaking into your ear. Your pussy throbs at the way he sounds. Paired with the picture from before, it has your body tingling all over.

“What the fuck is that?” you hiss, trying to not let the sudden overflow of arousal leak into your words. Jungkook chuckles.

“What?” he huffs. There’s the brief sound of shuffling, the scratchy noise of his phone presumably being pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so hard, baby,” he sighs before you can pretend to reprimand him any further. “Fuck— you, can you just talk to me?” he groans, and the disgusting sound of him spitting into his palm fills your ear.

Your face feels warm, eyes nervously peering across the stockroom like your boss will suddenly appear now of all times to rip you from this important phone call. The anxiety and arousal mix weirdly, have your leg bouncing but every new movement sends a shock up your aching cunt to your chest, and then out to the tips of your fingers.

“You shouldn’t be doing that when I’m at work,” you murmur hurriedly, moving to nervously bite at your finger. Jungkook moans softly.

“Uh huh,” he says.

The air conditioning turns on and you nearly jump out of your own skin. “Kook,” you stress, frazzled by your own burning arousal and the fear of being caught. Like you said. Weird mix. “I— not when I can’t respond.”

He shudders on the line. “You’re responding now,” he points out. You hate when he’s right. Before you can defend yourself, define what a proper response is in this scenario, he’s beating you to the punch. “Baby,” he whimpers, voice so airy yet low, makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, back unconsciously arching. “Couldn’t stop— fuck.”

Your mouth feels dry, all and any form of lecturing fading from your thoughts as you become consumed in Jungkook’s little whines and whimpers. He talks smoothly, a modern day Casanova, and it’s certainly because of that cult-like harem he’s gathered on YouTube. Teenage girls who kiss his ass, tell him he’s cute and dreamy. Make his ego so big.

But then he gets horny and can barely contain that lisp you tease him about, shivers and melts when you put his cock in your mouth. “Couldn't what, bunny?” you mumble, voice drawn tight because now you were really horny, and it was all his fault.

The nickname makes him mewl prettily, your speaker suddenly going scratchy as he fumbles with his phone. “C- Couldn't stop thinking about you— your mouth,” he admits, and now you’re certain he’d sat through that Saturday morning stream like this. “T- Tits,” he adds, lisp slipping through. “Fuck.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you remind yourself now was not the time or place to get yourself off. But, well. That didn’t mean you couldn’t get him off. “Sat through your stream like this?” you murmur, circling your kneecap with a trembling finger as if it’ll ward away the raging lust in your abdomen. Jungkook confirms with a breathy moan. “Had all your little fans wondering why you ended so early.”

He groans. “No,” he chokes, voice hot from how much it wavers. “They— I lied,” he confesses out of nowhere, “s- said I had a doctor’s appointment.”

You muffle a giggle into your palm. “Naughty,” you tease. “Too hard to do your job.”

“Just,” he cuts off, voice feathery. He sounds so close and you haven’t even said anything of substantial value yet. “Tell me,” he says quietly, “what to— mmh, what to do.”

A smirk consumes your features. You try to hide it, but there’s no one here anyway so you’re left grinning at an unpacked box of dental floss like a madwoman. “Why?” you inquire playfully, bask in the sad little whimper he responds with. “Shouldn’t you know how to make yourself cum?”

Another groan of frustration, desperation seeping into his tone when he speaks again. “Baby, please,” he begs, and it feels good. Feels nice to have this big YouTuber begging for you like this, whimpering your name like his doesn’t appear on the top 25 most viewed. “Like when you— ah — when you tell me… what to do.”

Your body feels hot, thighs pressing together with each whimper that falls from his lips. “Okay,” you concede, and he audibly moans in relief. “Tip first,” you instruct softly, eyes defocusing as your brain slowly starts to manifest the image of Jungkook spread out on his bed. Thick thighs, grey boxers pulled taught around them, fat cock between his pretty hands, inked knuckles squeezing around his member. You swallow. You can tell exactly when Jungkook does as you say because another muffled moan fills the speaker. “One finger,” you remind him quickly, head spinning from the mere memory of his dick. “Run it… run it over the slit, bunny.”

“Nngh—“ Jungkook sputters. You can only imagine the face he’s making now, the bottom lip he’s bitten raw by now. He does it a lot; it’s a nervous habit. But as sexy as it looks when you’re in bed, you know he has sensitive lips because of it, bleeds easily if he’s too harsh. You have half the mind to remind him about it now, but then he’s hurriedly gasping out for more. “And, and then? Wha— what then, baby?”

He sounds so sweet, melodic voice dripping with honey. “Touch your balls,” you say a little breathlessly. “Don’t squeeze,” you add, “just roll your palm over them.” Your palm squeezes against your thigh, as if it’s remembering the feel of his body, the soft skin between his thighs when you’re down there. He gets so jittery, thick thighs nearly crushing you if you drag him along too much. “O- Other hand on your cock,” you stumble, thighs squeezed together. “Stroke yourself just like I do, bunny.”

Jungkook complies. “Just like you?” he mumbles, suddenly sounds farther away. As if he’s dropped his phone off to the side. “Fffuck,” he grunts, “m- mouth is so pretty.”

“Hm?” you inquire, so consumed with tampering down your growing arousal for a second that you miss his sentence.

Jungkook’s breath stutters, and for a moment you’re met with the wet squelch of his cock in his hand. And then, “pretty mouth… make me— make me wanna see you cry.”

You bite your lip. “Why,” you say tentatively, finally caving in with a hand fluttering over the front seam of your jeans. Not a question, more of a gentle nudge for him to spill his thoughts.

“Be- Because,” he cries, fucking into his hand. He sounds closer and closer. You have to wonder just how long he had been riled up. It’s been a while since his first message, he was probably desperate by now. “Y- You’re so nice,” he cries, and the sentiment, though oddly out of place, makes your heart squeeze with adoration for the boy on the line. “Wanna be,” he groans, “wanna be so fucking mean to you, baby.”

The sudden change of tone makes you choke on a moan, hand pressing against your mound like it’ll somehow penetrate the thick material of your jeans and give you the sensations you crave. As it stands, it’s a muted feeling you get instead. When your hands fail, his voice compensates. “Fffuck, don’t you— don’t you think about it too?”

Admittedly, no.

Jungkook had always been a gentleman in bed. Always cared for your needs before his own, went out of his way to make you feel pampered and adored during your most vulnerable moments. Contrary to what his online persona might say, he was a good boy. Sweetest boy you knew, touched you like you were made of glass.

So to suddenly learn of this dream— fantasy? kink? —of his that you would certainly enjoy equally as much, well. It made you whimper into your palm, eyes worriedly flickering toward the stockroom’s entrance.

“Why?” you whisper, feeling like a broken doll repeating the same phrase over and over again. You’re suddenly aware of how hot everything was. Your polo felt sticky against your spine, apron too tight, jeans too stuffy. How long had you been hiding in here for? You don’t even know. Hopefully your absence on the floor had gone unnoticed.

Jungkook pants into the line; everything sounds so sticky and wet on his end, hand undoubtedly working away at his cock. “Shit,” he curses, doesn’t really answer your question until you prod a second time. “I- I like it,” he stammers. “When you… fuck, when you look small.” He elaborates before you can even ask, breath heavy and drawn out. He was so close. “When your mouth… when it hurts,” he says, thoughts a scrambled mess. “Like when you— when you cry because my cock is— it’s too big for you.”

A blatant ego boost you’ll ignore for now. Not like you can focus on too many things right now anyway. “Your cock is big, bunny,” you agree softly instead. Your legs feel cramped from crouching so long, so you push yourself to your feet. Except then you’re made aware of how fucking wet you are, panties soaked from the phone call with your boyfriend. You shift and they stick to your folds, make you release a shaky exhale that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

“I— you’re wet,” he says boldly, and this time your meek confirmation isn’t a lie. Jungkook grunts. “Fuck, baby, I—“ cut off by his own whiny cry, probably bucking into his hand like a madman by now. “Wanna, wanna kiss you everywhere,” he says, a call back to his earlier message. Your legs feel like jello. You want him to kiss you everywhere too— lips, tits, cunt that is dripping for him now.

“I- I’ll be over soon,” you stammer, feeling like you’ll pass out if he carries on any further. He sounds so good on the line, soft pants, rough growls. You can’t possibly listen anymore, not when you’re so wet and horny in the middle of your shift. “Just,” you pause, can’t get the image of his pretty cock out of your mind. Every blink makes it more vivid, reminds you of the vein on the underside, the exact shade of the tip.

“What?” Jungkook hisses, voice higher than usual, parts of it lost under the rapid movements of his hand. “Tell me, baby, tell me what to do,” he begs hoarsely, “I’ll do it.” Sounds so desperate and needy, two seconds away from busting all over his hand.

You have to lean against the wall of the stockroom to ground yourself, remind yourself you’re not in the same situation as Jungkook and can’t cum in your pants like a teenager. “J- Just cum,” you choke, eyes fluttering shut.

He must’ve been waiting for that command, because the second the words leave your throat he’s filling the line with breathy groans and cries as he comes all over himself, probably ruins his t-shirt. The sounds have your hips unconsciously bucking forward into nothingness, the frustration of not being able to cum with him manifesting in the form of a tiny little sob. Luckily, he doesn’t catch it.

When it’s all said and done, he’s left panting into the receiver, flooding your speaker with breathy sighs that only make you more and more aroused.

“You’re terrible,” you frown, cheeks flushed, body tingling. You flip your wrist over and check the time; it’s been about sixteen minutes since you disappeared from outside. Sixteen minutes of listening to Jungkook touch himself and moan and whine and whimper. Tease you with new possibilities you had never considered before. And now he’s satisfied and you’re not.

Jungkook chuckles, low and tired. The sound shoots straight to your cunt. “Come over after you shift,” he says, as if you’re not planning to fake a severe case of the flu right now in order to get off early and run to his bed. You only had a little less than two hours of your shift left anyway. Not like they paid you well to begin with. Jungkook shifts, releases one of those saccharine groans as he probably snuggles into his bed, all sweaty and worn out. “Want you to fuck my face, baby.”

You frown, counting to ten to calm yourself down. Another few minutes of listless conversation, and you hang up. Your body feels featherlight, a little woozy as you make your way back out into the floor.

Nothing has changed. Customers pour in and out, your boss scolds you for a display you didn’t do, and life inside the store drags on. No one knows that you’re soaking your panties to hell and back, Jungkook’s soothing moans in your ear. Life goes on.

you shift ends in 20

jungkook♡ sweet jungkook♡ got your seat ready jungkook♡ Attachment: 1 Image

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Scherzo (Chapter Six; Part One)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Dreams turn into reality on smokey breaths. Inner turmoil melts away with the touch from warm skin. Promises make the evening decisions go from complicated to deliciously easy.

Content | Fluff, slight smut warning, tw soft drugs (marijuana)

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 4421

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy  @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic​ @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys​ @luvbadass​ @buttercup-beeee​ @navs-bhat​ @etaerealboyv​ @tryymebitch​ @mell-bell​ @fenhakwe​ @solacestyles​ @softforlukescurls​ @vicsangel​ @theimpossiblehologramtree​ @alina-exe​ @cherricola66​

***

Soft skin against his fingers. A hand running down his chest to his pants. Heavy breathing filling the room. The flesh underneath him felt warm and welcoming, hot to the touch and begging for more. Her perfume filled his senses as she pulled him close. Nails running down his back. Whispers of "amore mio, just like that", "keep going,” “cara mia, vita mia, please".

A “Dami, fuck” leaving her lips as his hand started gripping her thighs. Running between them, as she threw her head back, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on it. Biting her neck. Coaxing more moans out of him, on a mission to make him lose his mind. She was heaven on earth. Supple breasts moving with every breath as he let his mouth descend on them, one at a time, desperate to consume all of her. Kissing every inch of her, exploring her until he knew about every curve, every ridge, every little spot of her body. He wanted to know all the secrets she ever had. Drawing noises out of her that he wanted to keep hearing for the rest of his life. Her hands on his shoulders, on his back, on his arse. Pulling him further into her. Letting his mouth wander lower, getting wrapped up between her legs. She looked at him with dark eyes, nodding, and he was ready to suffocate in between her thighs.

Wait, was he actually suffocating on her thighs?

Damiano woke up with a start, face pressed deeply into the pillow, restricting his breathing in a way that was much less sexy than the one in his dream. A circle of drool had escaped his mouth and dropped onto the pillow. Well, that's embarrassing, he thought to himself.

He was in the middle of pushing himself up and out of bed, highly aware of the situation in his boxers - only to be interrupted when a knock on the door startled him. Trying to wrap the sheet around him, suddenly overly self-conscious of his state, he hastened to the door, almost tripping several times on the way. When he finally unlocked and opened it, he just about let his head appear in the opening, awkwardly hiding between the door still. Y/n’s face was painted in confusion. He forgot how stunning she really was, his brain not even coming close to painting her image in his dreams.

“Yes, hi, good morning, I’m up! I’ll be down in an hour!” He was rushing to finish his sentence, not giving her a chance to reply before he let the door fall back into its lock. A deep breath out. Her face instilled in his mind like a photograph, unable to be separated from the extremely vivid dream he’d just had. He felt bad. He had essentially slammed the door in her face while wrapped up in a bedsheet. Not a very good impression considering he liked the woman behind the door. This was going to be such a long day.

***

“Why are you so awkward?” Victoria nudged Damiano as they had settled on a couch on the bus. He had been looking off since she had first seen him that morning, which was odd. Especially considering he was usually more of an early bird than the rest of them. “Sleep badly? Bad dreams? Good dreams? Or did you scare Y/n away again with another morning wood incident.”

Damiano’s face burned up as if suddenly ignited, making Victoria gasp.

“Oh my god, did you?!” She smacked his chest with her hand as she let out a gasp.

“I wasn’t even aware you knew about the first time,” Damiano mumbled, slumping down deeper into the seat. Crawling into the shirt he was wearing. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“Word travels fast on tour, you should know that by now,” she giggled, repositioning so she had her legs spread across his thighs. “So what happened?”

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” he scoffed. Victoria’s grin only spread further, though. She was loving this side of Damiano more than she would like to admit - shy, awkward, unsure of himself. He was one of the best people she knew, an amazing frontman, a talented musician, a loyal friend. Yet with one little addition to the team he had turned into a quivering mess.

“You know I’m just going to ask Y/n what happened, right?”

“Yeah good luck with that, she didn’t even notice. At least I hope not.”

“Wait - so you hid your boner from her? I mean, at least you didn’t traumatise her again. What happened though, did you have some good times before the wake-up call?” She once again nudged him obnoxiously, loving how uncomfortable she was making him. “Did you have a wet dream? Did- Oh my god, you’re blushing, you did have a wet dream! Tell me everything! Was it hot? Did she go down on you or something? Did you see her tits?”

“Fuck off Victoria, I’m not telling you anything, now stop! It’s no like-”

“Hi! Attention, everyone! I know it's early and everyone is probably still asleep. But - announcements! That includes you Thomas,” Y/n said pulling the curtain of the guitarist’s bunk back so he could listen too.

Victoria noticed how their assistant didn’t seem spooked by Damiano’s presence at all - it seemed like he had been right after all. She hadn’t noticed a thing. If only those two would stop playing cat and mouse and finally do something, anything, she thought.

"Now, I know we're all excited about going to Amsterdam today, and I'm not looking at anyone in particular here," she explained as she shot a pointed look at Damiano that no one missed. "But I have one ground rule: no weed before the show. You got tomorrow off, so whatever you do after the performance tonight is none of my business. But god help you if I find you with a joint in hand any time before that."

She smiled, but Victoria had no doubts she would be deadly serious if it came to it. Y/n passed out a map of the local area, highlighting the Leidseplein in the middle of town, and in red circles were the venue, the hotel they were staying at, restaurants, and several coffeeshops, all within easy walking distance.

“Do with that what you like,” she concluded. ”As long as you do it after the show.”

***

The band had gotten to the venue straight after lunch, excitedly discussing some new covers they were thinking about playing that night. Soundcheck consisted of a number of conversations all at once, trying to figure out how to change the setlist. Damiano found himself participating less, instead, staring down at Y/n sitting in the audience. She was busy writing in her notebook, the seats next to her taken up by her bag, folders, and laptop. He knew she needed a break. They all worked extremely hard all the time, so it wasn't difficult to spot the signs of a fellow overworked person. He made it his own personal mission to get her to go out with them that night. Spend some time outside of work, see the city, anything that made her put her phone down.

As day turned to night, the concert loomed on the horizon. As soon as they hit the stage, it was clear it was going to be a good night. Amsterdam was the best kind of crazy. Going from Zitti e Buoni into Billie Eilish's Bury a Friend, the crowd went wild. Damiano noticed with amusement that Y/n was absentmindedly dancing along from her spot on the side of the stage as well. His attention had only been diverted towards her for a second, he was sure, but it was enough to suddenly feel something hit his head. Soft, red fabric.

"Was wondering when the first of those would come around," Damiano chuckled into the microphone in between songs, swinging the bra around a few times, before draping it across his mic stand.

Yet as much as the energy of the audience rubbed off on the band, all of them felt like collapsing after the show, feeling like they'd given it more than their all. A perfect chance to unwind for the night, in a way only Amsterdam really knew how. It was legal, after all.

***

“I am absolutely not getting high with you lot.”

Everyone was gathered in Y/n’s hotel room more or less uninvited. It seemed like they were dying to drag her along on what was supposed to be one of the best nights out on that tour. After getting ready, they had simply stormed in as soon as she had opened her hotel door. Now they were perched on her bed, her desk, and her armchair, trying to convince her.

“I gave you all a map to see where you could go. I, for one, would like to stay in my room, just me and my bed, and sleep till my alarm in the morning. That sounds like a brilliant time in my book.”

“Boring!” Thomas shouted, hurling a pillow from the bed at her that she quickly caught and threw back with much less force.

“If you come out with us, we’ll be ready before your wake-up call for the rest of the week!” Victoria tried to bribe.

“If you come out with us, we’ll have breakfast ready for you every day!” Y/n shot a look at Thomas, knowing fully well this was not going to happen. The idea alone made her laugh.

“If you come out with us, you can keep me company while the other three go crazy?” Ethan finally offered. She knew she was close to giving in, no matter how wrong it seemed to blur the lines between working relationship and friendship. She barely even agreed to drinks when she was on the job, and technically, she considered herself to be on the job 24/7. Yet these four had grown close to her heart so much more than anticipated.

Out of nowhere Damiano appeared next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder. The way his fingertips brushed her neck as he did so left goosebumps. “Come on, darling, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

It turned out, that was all she had needed to hear.

***

The coffeeshop didn’t differ much from the usual pubs and bars; people stuffed in every corner, a low murmur of talk with the occasional loud laughter over the music playing in the background, tables full of glasses and bottles. Only the smoke lingering in the air, its distinct smell, and the relaxed atmosphere let on that it was a slightly different kind of place. Y/n made short work of weaseling through the crowd and securing a table at the far end of the place, just enough space to accommodate all of them, as the others went to order.

“Do you want one as well?” Damiano asked as soon as he had let himself fall onto the couch next to her, already preparing to roll a joint.

“I think I’m getting a second-hand high just sitting here. Maybe take a puff of one of yours, but I won't be able to finish one myself."

Damiano nodded, licking the inside of the blanks as he prepared his joint. Victoria came bouncing in like a tidal wave - her usual fashion - and crashing into the others already sitting down. As soon as Damiano was happy with his creation, she snatched it out of his hand, making short work of lighting it and taking a drag.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Make another one,” she grinned, obnoxiously blowing the smoke into his face. Rolling his eyes, Damiano quickly prepared another one for himself, everyone now happy and content with their smokes, until only Y/n was left holding at a glass of water.

She preferred to observe the scene from her little advantage point in the corner like she so often did. The mellow music in the background was loud enough to underline the atmosphere but quiet enough to easily talk to everyone around you without having to shout. She liked this much better than loud bars in the evening. Most people were minding their own business, in small groups or pairs, some on their own. Victoria was quick to start chatting to a pair of girls sitting at the table next to them. She wasn’t going to lie - while not her usual spot, she didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable.

A hand appeared in front of her face, seemingly out of nowhere, and it took her a second to realise it was Damiano, trying to pass her his joint. She hesitated - still not convinced whether she should be smoking at all, but one look into his eyes only proved to her that she was weak to his suggestions. Parting her lips ever so slightly, she let him push the blunt between them, his fingertips grazing her. She took a drag, careful not to breathe in too much too quickly, before releasing the joint. Damiano pulled it back towards himself immediately, putting it back between his own lips, and she felt hypnotised. The moment came to an abrupt end when a cough took hold of her.

“Easy, easy,” Ethan soothed from the other side, his hand on her upper back. “Breathe.”

Everyone around the table seemed to be looking at her now, but she quickly got her composure back, holding up her hands in a gesture that was meant to signal she was fine.

“Fuck,” Y/n choked, taking a drink from her glass to wet her throat. “This is why I don’t smoke.”

“Wrong,” Thomas threw in. “This is because you don’t smoke!”

Y/n shook her head, giggling at the guitarist and the know-it-all look in his eyes.

“Up to try again?” Damiano whispered in her ear as the attention had finally ceased to be on her. She found herself staring into his eyes once again, a fluttery feeling erupting in her stomach at having him watch her so intently, at being able to capture his attention so easily.

The look on his face was enough to get her to try again. And again. And again.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but for once, she genuinely didn’t care. The people around them had changed, old ones leaving, new ones arriving, but the music stayed the same. She wasn’t quite sure what the joke Thomas was telling them was about, but she found herself giggling along nonetheless. This was the best she had felt in forever.

Unaware of what she was doing, she leaned back, finding Damiano’s arms carefully wrapping around her, holding her softly. To her own surprise, she was sinking into him.

“Having fun?” He asked in a voice so low she barely heard it. A voice so soft it made her heart melt. She nodded, slightly twisting around in his embrace to look at him again. She couldn’t get enough of his face. She’d stay and study it for all of eternity if he let her.

"Have you ever seen brown zircon?” She suddenly asked out of nowhere. “It's a gemstone that looks like they made sparkly salted caramel bonbons from rock. They mine it in Tanzania, I think? Your eyes sparkle just like that." She grinned at the man beside her. "I can attest to that from this angle at least. It’s like the one scene in Aladdin! 'She's got these eyes, and this hair and…’ Ah oh god, what am I doing?" She couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she was being. She found her face resting on his shoulder, completely content. His eyes never wavered from her face, listening closely to what she had to say.

Then Y/n watched her hand brush Damiano’s hair to the front, attempting to style it in a slightly different way. “Did you mean to look like Eren Yeager or was that some sort of subconscious coincidence? Not that it doesn’t look good, of course.”

“You watch Attack on Titan?” Dami looked down at her with surprise.

“No I don’t, but my friends do. So you learn the names of the people they yell at through the TV screen very quickly,” she laughed, remembering the way her friends would huddle in the living room, shouting at whatever the characters were doing wrong in their opinion.

“The more I get to know you, the more I’m convinced you’re my kinda woman, you know?” he mumbled, a smile grazing his lips. The more she looked at him, the more she felt her brain shutting off and her heart taking over. Or was it the high? She wasn’t interested in trying to differentiate.

Once again, he pushed the joint between her lips, holding the eye contact and it felt so much more intimate than it should have. It felt like her nerves were on fire. When he pulled his hand back again, she wanted to grab onto it, keep him in place, keep the moment.

I could stay in this forever, Y/n thought to herself.

"Also, I'm not religious by any means, but whatever God was responsible for creating you sure took their sweet time doing it…" The words spilled from her mouth before she realized she was talking, eyes flicking back and forth between his. "You know?"

She caught herself looking at his lips. A small blush grew on her face as she looked away. Staring out into the room, out at the people sitting next to them at other tables. Something distracting to take the rising heat off.

***

Damiano could feel his defenses wearing away. All ideas of staying away completely vanished into the smoke that lulled them in as he was holding her in his arms, her back leaning against his chest. He could feel her breathing, giggling at nothing at all, or maybe something Victoria had said but he hadn’t heard.

“If anyone’s been made by the angels, it’s you, amore,” he mumbled more to himself than anything, but she had heard him. Another chuckle running through her body. The atmosphere was fogging up his brain. He watched in amusement as he let a finger run up her arms, from her wrist to her upper arm where the fabric of her shirt began, and goosebumps appeared as if standing tall in a row. He tried it again on the other arm, getting the same result.

“What are you doing?”

She was turning around in his arms, just enough to look at him without removing herself from his embrace. He wondered if it was the dim light or if she was always this radiant. His hands travelled to the elastic that was holding her hair together and carefully removed it, eyes on her. Her hair fell around her face, framing it beautifully in its typically wild manner.

“I…” Her eyes seemed to twinkle as the light of the bar reflected back at him through them. “I don’t know.”

He looked away, suddenly insecure. What was he doing? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep his hands off her, now less than ever. He wanted her. Wanted her all to himself. Wanted to keep holding her like this forever. There was no denying that.

“You’re sweet.”

Her voice took a second to get through to him, but as it did, he turned his head as if in slow motion. All he had wanted to do was look at her again, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her lips were on his.

***

All Y/n had done was lean forward to press a kiss against his cheek. Now their lips were meeting and she didn’t know how she had gotten there. She wanted to pull back - no, actually she didn’t. But she thought she should. Though the spirit was willin - to pull away, that was -, the flesh was weak. Delving deeper into his arms, she found herself kissing him like she meant it. Her hands found his chest, feeling the rising heat from his skin. Being closer to him than ever before was driving her crazy. His soft, warm lips against hers. Just the tiniest movements, as if he was afraid of breaking her. She let herself enjoy it. For a moment. That was all her brain allowed before switching back to the rational part. She pulled back in surprise.

She moved out of his embrace, stiffening at the contact. All of the twinkling lights of romance that had just appeared around them now popped as the kiss ended.

I just kissed my boss. I just fucking went and kissed Damiano! I am so, so fucked.

Yet, she couldn't deny that she wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again until they ran out of air to breathe. She looked back at him and the expression on his face said it all. His lids lowered, a small smile appearing on his face. Eyes twinkling in the soft light. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end either. Either that or the weed was affecting him more than she had thought.

But as cold air started to seep in between them he blinked a couple of times, only now noticing that she had pulled away.

"Sorry - about that. I was trying to- I wasn't trying to kiss you. Well, I was - but not on the mouth. That would have been very forward of me. I would never. That's not me. I don't know how that happened - sorry." Y/n rambled on, unable to stop talking.

Damiano smirked, pecking her cheek. "Y/n, it's fine, you're fine. I turned my head and we kissed. It happens." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. As if this was some sort of common occurrence. As if she was panicking for nothing. Was she?

***

Damiano desperately tried to hide the turmoil inside of him. It happens?! Damiano, what the hell are you thinking! Not the right thing to say in this situation! Now it just looks like you’d kiss anyone, great. He looked down at his hands, fumbling with his rings. Trying to get his breathing back under control. He needed to be cool.

"I mean - not that I didn't enjoy it. You kiss good!"

You kiss good? What the? That wasn’t even English. He was well and truly losing his mind.

***

Y/n took a deep breath, sitting back in her seat, making sure not to be as close to Damiano as she had been before. Victoria and Thomas had migrated to get more drinks and Ethan was deeply entrenched in some conversation with a man next to him. Luckily the rest of the band hadn't seen what just happened. Grabbing her glass once more, the cold wet condensation gave a stark contrast to her warm skin.

The kiss still left a tingly feeling on her lips. Quickly looking at Damiano, she met his eyes. He had not looked away yet, it seemed. She watched as he bit his lip in contemplation. Whatever was playing on his mind, Y/n didn't know. His words left her believing he wasn’t quite as put together as he tried to pretend. He certainly wasn’t making much sense. Although, she wouldn’t dismiss his compliment of her kissing abilities. She wondered if he would think similarly if they did it again, or did more than that…

Her wandering thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud crash. The culprit was quickly spotted. The middle of the coffeeshop, which had been empty of people until then, now had Thomas lying on his front, surrounded by liquid and broken glass.

Y/n didn’t hesitate, jumping up to offer her aid. The worry only lasted for a second though, until Thomas turned on his back, giggling maniacally. She barely managed to kick some shards out of the way before he could roll onto them.

She let out a deep sigh at the state of the guitarist, before quickly apologizing to the people at the bar.

“Everyone help me grab Thomas, I think this is our sign to call it a night.”

***

Y/n thought she’d have an easy time going to sleep. The effects of the joint were lingering, plus, the day had just been plain exhausting. Yet, as her head hit the pillow, she felt restless. Her mind kept circling around Damiano. The way he had looked at her. The way he had looked in general. She had seen him basically naked at this point, but she still thought about how it would be different up close and personal. She wished she had been able to read his eyes more. Had he been thinking about the same things she had? Had he wanted to kiss her again and again, get lost in that bubbling excitement of finally being close, finally let his hands wander to new places? She wanted to pull his hair. See what kind of sound would leave his mouth when doing so.

She wanted his hands and his lips, all of him really, badly. She wanted to know what he felt like when he really kissed her. What his fingers would be able to do to her. Biting and moaning. She desperately needed some release, wishing it would come from him, but knowing there was no chance, at least not tonight. Her hand wandered between her legs as she let her mind run wild. Imagining it was him instead, letting his fingers run along the inside of her thighs, exploring every inch of her. How he would treat her just right, hit all the right spots, do so much better than her own fingers ever could. The words he’d whisper in her ear, seducing her with his mother tongue, breath fanning her skin. How he would kiss her senseless. Feeling the rhythm of their bodies take over. Watch his tattoos start to glisten with a sheen of sweat from what they would be doing.

She found her release almost embarrassingly quickly, burying her face in her pillow. Her body felt more at ease, although her heart was still craving something more. She had almost calmed down, getting her breathing back under control. In a moment of clarity, she checked her phone to see when she had to wake up the next day, when the sound of a moan caught her attention. One that definitely wasn’t her own, but seemed to come from the room next door.

Damiano’s room.

[hoonssluts]

A/N: This is another draft that has NIT been worked on in forever, this was a request but I slowed down on my writing so I never finished this and I have no idea where I was going with this. This is not proof read and this has been in my drafts for 6+ months. Enjoy.

fuxxin’ love - soobin♡

contains: smut, soft!dom soobin, fwb!yeonjun, sorta rough sex, college au, slight fluff.

THIS IS FUCKING LONG I DIDN'T MEAN TO

Your face buried into the left side of Yeonjuns neck, breathing heavily as your coming down from your high. Yeonjuns slender fingers rubbing circles into your back, slightly tickling you.

“You okay?” He questions looking into your face while you peel yourself from his body. You give him a weak nod and smile.

“Yeah, but can you get me some water?” You request, pulling out some loose pajama shorts and a over-sized shirt from you drawer, stumbling a bit while putting on your shorts.

“Yeah, of course.” Yeonjun leaves your room with his boxers on going into your kitchen.

You and Yeonjun have been sleeping together for about 3 months now, and no one else knows. Its sort of like a friends with benefits thing, I mean yeah you thought he was a fairly good looking guy but you didn’t want a relationship with him. He also felt kinda bad for fucking you because his bestfriend, Soobin has a crush on you. Yeah Soobin was cute like really cute, the way his cheeks are always puffed out due to them being chubby and squishy, the way his eyes turn into a small soft arch when he laughs or smiles, and how polite and gentle he was towards you whenever you two spoke nonetheless you didn’t really have a crush on him, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

Yeonjun walks into your room handing you a glass of cold water. “Do you have morning classes tomorrow?” He then grabs his shirt off of your fluffy white carpet, slipping it onto his small yet toned body.

You give a small smile, as a way to say thank you. “Uh, yeah but its just literature.” Taking a small gulp before setting it onto your nightstand, tidying up your bed due to recent events. Looking up at Yeonjun, his hair is a mess.

He lifts an eyebrow, “So that means I can’t stay over?” He asks while sliding on his black sweats, running his hand through his blond hair.

“It sure does” You reply walking over to him, slowly but surely pushing him out of your bedroom. You two walking into your living room area. “You need to leave before my roommate gets back and sees you.”

He lets out a sigh, walking over to the front door. “Fine. I’ll see you later.” Flashing a quick small smile before leaving your apartment.

                                            next morning

You walked into your literature lecture hall 5 minutes before it started, scanning the room to see any open seats so you can settle down, while in the process you see Soobin with two other boys. You knew their faces but you couldn’t remember their names at that moment. He never sat there but oh well there is an open seat next to him so what can you do.

With a big cheeky smile you walk over to them. “Hey Soobin.” You set your things down and take your set. Looking over at him, his cheeks now red and flustered from your smile towards him.

“H-hey, y/n.” He replies softly, turning his body towards you. You made his heart flutter almost every time you were with each other, which was quiet often since you always group up for projects or study together. Soobin has always thought of you as a innocent crush I mean that doesn't mean he never thought about fucking you a few times but he never said anything about since the both of you were only friends.

“Me and Gyu are going to go sit down there, we can’t see the projector” A tan skinny boy with wine colored hair utters while dragging an other boy with loose black hair, flashing a quick smile before taking off leave you and Bin alone. Taehyun and Beomgyu, those are their names. You talked to them a couple of times but never a really vivid conversation. 

A few minutes passed, you just taking notes as per usual but you did catch Soobin staring at you a few times. It was cute, and so innocent just like him.

The lecture has finally ended, packing up your notebook and pencils you looking up at Bin, seems like he was waiting for you.

"You don't need to wait for m-"

"Wanna hang out later tonight?" He asked, looking down after his question, cheeks turning pink.

You had nothing planned, so why not. "Yeah, that sounds great."

Soobin's face lit up to your response. He couldn't believe you actually said yes. "W-well, we can hang at my place since you have a roommate and all."

"Yeah, see you later Bin" A wide smile spreads across your face as you exit the lecture hall.

~°~

[bjy-on-ao3]

Hi, I really love your writing on Ao3! I was wondering if you could write an Adachi x reader where Adachi slips it in while reader is sleeping? Maybe halfway through being fucked reader wakes up but pretends to be asleep anyway because they are enjoying it? I imagine that they'd probably already have a preexisting sexual relationship and have talked about the sex that they are okay with (that could be a creative choice for you tho idc. manipulative adachi sexy). best wishes!

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page)

Here you are, anon! This one really struck a cord with me, and I knew I had to fill it, eventually.

Summary 

Adachi gives Reader a pleasant morning surprise to indulge a desire they previously confessed to him.

Tags/Warnings

Biting, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Hair-Pulling, Mildly Dubious Consent, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Somnophilia, Vaginal Sex

Rise & Shine (F! Reader/Tohru Adachi)

The early rays of morning scattered through the window blinds, bathing the otherwise dark bedroom in pale stripes of yellow and gold. The cloying spring heat had yet to creep in, some remnant of the coolness of night lingering, lending a refreshing feeling, rather than one hot and clinging. Tohru Adachi stirred on the bedsheets of the mattress next to the mostly shuttered window.

He started to disentangle himself lazily from the light sheets, but stopped. A look of confusion spread across his face when he noted sitting up wasn’t as easy as it should have been, the cause your prone form tucked so securely against him. He remembered falling asleep at your apartment after some drinks at Shiroku and a couple rounds of fun, but you had fallen asleep with ample distance between you. Adachi decided you must have unconsciously snugged up to him while the both of you slept.

Though he was confused, that didn’t mean Adachi wasn’t exactly displeased. Neither of you had bothered to re-dress at all before passing out the night before. That left you naked, pressed against him, at least before he tried to extricate himself from your grasp. His eyes roved unchastely over your bare skin, exposed where the sheets rode down past your hips. Lying flat on your stomach after he had escaped your cuddling, your arms splayed on the pillows, legs spread haphazardly. He eyed the swell of your chest pressing into the soft mattress and the tantalizing curve of your ass, his gaze lingering as his hunger was roused.

In that moment, Adachi recalled a conversation that had taken place between the two of you not long ago. You had opened up to him a little with your fantasies and wants, admitting with a thoroughly hot face and hushed tone how badly you wanted him to use you. You hadn’t described exactly how, though, only that your desire for him to use your body however he pleased existed. He remembered how excited the confession had made him, immediately diving into imaginations of how he planned to take you up on it. Somehow, though, the thought had slipped his mind until that instant.

The gears were turning in his head, and Adachi’s lips curled in a sinful, lecherous grin as he came to a decision. What better way to grant your wishes and use you only for his pleasure than to fuck you while you slept, when he had little reason to worry about your satisfaction or concerns. His cock jerked to life at the thought, and his mind was made up.

He drew the sheets the rest of the way off, flinging them to the side where they would remain unwanted and forgotten for some time. The full sight of your body laid out nude before him met him, and another punch of hunger seized him, his reacting in along with it. For a second, Adachi wondered if you would even notice. He couldn’t remember if you were a light sleeper who woke at even a hardly intrusive touch, or if you slept like the dead and would drowse through it all. But he was going to find out very soon. =============================================

It was the touch of something solid and cool between your legs that eased you from the warm, comfortable haze of sleep. It prodded at the soft pink of your cunt before slipping inside with little resistance. At first, you thought you were having some kind of vivid wet dream, but you recognized the strange dark line of half-consciousness, so it was no dream. Something had buried itself inside your cunt, wet and welcoming even while you dozed. The sensation of whatever it was wriggled and curled, easing in and out for a moment before withdrawing altogether.

The thick fog of sleep threatened to lure you back into its clutches with the retreat of whatever had been intruding; you had nearly convinced yourself even if it wasn’t a dream, you had  imagined it. Just a figment of your muddled, half-asleep mind. But whatever it was returned, clamping over your thighs and carefully prying them apart to spread your legs wider. The tip of something far more hot and hard poked at your slick lips, the sensation giving your growing consciousness a jolt. You froze, making yourself remain still despite coming further to, and the thick intrusion sank past your lips and your entrance.

A low, blissful groan caught your attention when the hardness filled you completely, and your cunt clenched reflexively around it. Several debauched noises longed to free themselves from your throat at the aching fullness, but you quashed them, forcing yourself to feign sleep. The groan no doubt belonged to the man you had fallen asleep beside the night before, there was no denying that. You were led to a conclusion even your hazy mind could make: Adachi was the one buried deep inside your cunt, basking in the tight embrace of your soft, wet flesh around his cock.

The realization didn’t alarm or upset you, though. In fact, it only made your cunt feel wetter, and your walls tightened around him again, eliciting another erotic, gravelly noise from Adachi, A wicked heat blossomed in your gut and made your heart drum in your chest, your pulse beginning to race. It almost embarrassed you how much being fucked while you ‘slept’ turned you on, and you wondered fleetingly if he noticed how readily your body responded to him. Would he think nothing of it and just assume you were still dreaming and none the wiser?

Any thoughts were drowned out, though, when Adachi’s hips pulled back and he thrust back into your heat, the start of a steady rhythm. He rocked his hips languidly against your backside, obviously in no rush. A series of small, carnal, and oh-so-arousing sounds drifted from his lips as he pumped his cock in and out of your core. Sounds quiet enough that if you had really been asleep, you doubted you would have noticed at all. You struggled not to react too noticeably to them or from the roll of his hips. But you couldn’t help squirming here and there, a muffled, sleepy whimper escaping every once in a while. You hoped Adachi chalked them up to simply unconscious and involuntary reactions.

Whatever the case, your wriggling and tiny, nearly incoherent gasps and murmurs spurred Adachi onward, and his pace increased, fucking you more thoroughly into the bed. Each deep thrust made you want to swoon and melt and moan. The weight of Adachi’s body pressed into your back, his skin already growing slick with beads of sweat, radiating heat against you.

“Y’know,” he growled casually in your ear, “you’re a really bad actor.” His pace didn’t stop, and he his came to tangle in the sheets beside your shoulders, giving him more leverage to pound into your cunt more roughly.

You ignored him, unsure if he knew you were awake and was telling the truth, of if he was searching for some kind of conscious reaction to find out. Things were too enjoyable though to let them end so easily. Until Adachi could prove you were awake, you were more than pleased to let him have his way with you.

A moment of silence punctuated only by the sounds of sex passed, and then a low, contemplative hum droned beside you. “Well, I guess if you’re really sleeping through this, I can do whatever I want,” he said coyly, and to some it might have sounded almost like a threat. Right then, to you, it was a sinful promise you silently bade him to fulfill.

His hips snapped harder against you, and it was even more of a struggle to fight back the noises that wanted to break free, each thrust so deep it provoked a guttural response. He adjusted himself, tilting his hips and pressing his body more firmly against yours. You didn’t know if it was out of mere convenience for him, or on purpose to overwhelm you and shatter your charade, but the new angle brought on a greater ordeal.

Each rough stroke of his cock, besides sinking so deep, brushed against a much more receptive spot that made your gut twist in a distinctly pleasant way. You tried to disguise the way you turned your head to push it into the pillows as an unconscious reaction, though you unsure how long Adachi would continue to buy your act, if he didn’t already know the truth.

Each time he drove back inside, you lost more resolve to keep pretending, and to disguise and smother your moans and the way your body so badly wanted to meet his thrusts. The molten feeling that had grown in your belly served only to weaken you further, welling up inside and proving more demanding and wild than the sounds of pleasure seeking escape.l

You pressed your face into the pillows more as a particularly stubborn moan bubbled up, much louder than any of the others, trying in vain to stifle it. Though as soon as the sound left your lips, smothered as it was, your little game of pretend was over. A rough hand tangled in your hair, grabbing tightly and jerking your head back and away from the pillows. Your new position left you no choice but to moan freely into the air, already hot and thick with sex and sweat. The stubborn moan seemed like the bursting of a dam, and there was no stopping the myriad cries that followed it.

“Are you enjoying yourself, sweetheart?” Adachi hissed in your ear, amused and breathless. “Pretending you had no idea what I was doing and getting off on being treated like the little cock sleeve you wanted to be?”

With your act revealed, you had no reason to try to fool Adachi any longer. You gave into the carnal heat swelling inside you, crying out and finally slamming your hips back to meet his. “Fuck, yes! Use me, please,” you begged, and Adachi’s stinging grip in your hair tightened reflexively. “I want to be your plaything; use me however you want!” your voice broke with your admission, shattered by a stroke that stole your breath away and made your made briefly go blank.

The words were a catalyst, stoking Adachi’s already boiling lust to even greater heights. He rutted harder against you, feeling the urgency of an orgasm dawning on him, your shameless enthusiasm speeding it along. He relished the outpouring of bawdy shouts and moans bubbling from your mouth now that he had called your bluff. His fingered remained snared in your hair, pulling your head back almost painfully and ensuring there was no chance to muffle a single sound more.

You could feel Adachi’s desperation mounting behind each thrust, even through the lingering haze of sleep clouding your awareness. You felt it in the tension of his body, pushing yours so forcefully into the bed, and in his fingers, both in your hair and on your skin. But you were already ahead of him. The sheer excitement of being fucked in such an obscene fashion made your body tense and burn white hot. Each time Adachi filled you up again, it forced another cry from your lips, and the liquid heat wound tighter and more intense.

Your breathing hitched, becoming quickly ragged and sharp, and Adachi’s was just as labored in your ear. You bucked back against him mindlessly, seeking the last little push you needed and thinking of nothing else. When you came, his named rolled off your tongue in waves, interrupted by moans that pitched more desperate and airy as he fucked you through your orgasm.

He bent his head, and his teeth scraped the nape of your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he could find to leave a colorful, stinging mark. The sharp sensations added to the ripples of pleasure dancing through you, and your voice cracked in your ecstasy. His tempo slowed, gaining force where it lost momentum, until the smack of his skin on yours was clear even through the chorus of groans and cries ringing out. When he finished, he bit down again, harder, so hard a moan turned into a brief yelp, even though he hadn’t broken the skin.

With each spurt of his cum that filled you, Adachi groaned, long and low, the noise feral and thick. The sounds made you shudder, and your cunt squeeze him tighter, even though your orgasm was wearing away and coming to an end. Finally, Adachi was spent, and you were left sweat-slicked and nearly panting, his grasp on your hair loosening. You couldn’t think beyond the feel of him still sheathed in your cunt, or the sound of his heavy breathing beside you. Even smothered beneath his weight, your mind had room only for the pleasures of the afterglow.

You rested limp and pliant against the bedsheets as Adachi released your hair, and when you lay your head on the pillows again, they felt blissfully cool. You were too tired and out-of-sorts to move when Adachi withdrew, vaguely noting the sensation of something warm and thick trickling down your thighs.Adachi didn’t bother laying back in bed, instead rolling to the side and getting to his feet. You summoned the energy to roll over and watch him as he went about getting cleaned up before searching for his clothes and re-dressing.

After several minutes, Adachi had sorted himself out and made himself presentable - or at least what counted as presentable for detective with his routinely messy hair, crumpled clothes, and crooked tie. By then, you had regained steady breathing, watching him lazily and propping yourself up on your elbow. He took one last glance over himself, patting the pockets of his slacks for his phone and keys and ensuring he hadn’t forgotten anything, Satisfied everything was accounted for, he walked to the beside, bending down and taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger before tipping your head to meet his gaze.

“I’ve gotta get going now, sweetheart. Be good while I’m gone and maybe I’ll indulge more of your sick little fantasies the next time I come over,” he promised, punctuating his words with a kiss. It was a gesture that might have seemed sweet or affectionate, were it not for the sharp, hungry bite he left on your bottom lip.

Then, he was gone without another word, leaving you with a burning face, an aching cunt oozing cum, and many angry marks that would soon turn various shades of blue and purple. Yet, you were left also with a bone-deep sense of satisfaction that outweighed everything else. You slid back down onto the bed, recounting what had just happened. Even just the memory sent your arousing spiralling out of control all over again.

It was going to be torture waiting for the next time you could get together.

[vanderlindemorgans]

Cross My Heart (Chapter 6)

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Rating: Explicit/18+

Summary: A traitorous Agent Whiskey returns to the United States on the run. Being cast out by Statesman, he soon finds that you’re the only person he can turn to - the embittered former flame from years long passed

Word count: 7.7k

Chapter-specific Warnings: Descriptions of blood from a gunshot wound, alcohol consumption, talk of drug addiction, more death talk, mentions of entitled kid + parent, everyone being in denial and uh I think that’s about it

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The strangest thing about dreams were how quickly they disappeared: you could be passed out in bed, a million miles away from the waking world before the rays of sun started to shine over the horizon to rouse you from your slumber, and just like that - whatever world you were in would vanish, being replaced by an often disappointing reality in front of you. For Jack, vivid dreams weren’t too often of an occurrence for him, not that he really remembered anyway. Nightmares were even more rare, though at one point in time they’d plagued him for months on end. That was how he’d spent the first few months after his wife’s passing: waking up in a cold sweat, heart racing in panic from the lingering remnants of dream clung to the back of his mind, horrifying scenes of loss and tragedy playing out to torture him in his most vulnerable state. Usually the nightmares involved him being forced to watch Lily’s death with his own eyes and being powerless to stop it, the illusion always shattering just as her body hit the ground. Other times he’d be confronted by her, blood cascading from the bullet wound in her head and onto her skin while she stared at him with harsh eyes. He’d try to reach out for her, only to feel her hands had gone cold. And then the blame would start. The words that were repeated over and over by her until he felt his brain was going to break.You couldn’t protect me. Those ones were always the worst, and thankfully, the most rare.

All of this being said, Jack hadn’t dreamt of Lily in a long time. As the sting of her passing began to fade with time, leading into hate and anger towards the world for taking her away, the dreams slowly stopped. He still mourned for her every day, feeling frozen in time no matter how many years passed, no matter how fine he seemed on the outside, but the worst of it had left him. Or, so he thought.

Jolting out of bed with a fierce start, he could feel the rough material of the duvet in his hands, his hands grasped around it with an iron grip. He felt compelled to scream, though no sound was able to escape his mouth, and as he took note of his surroundings he started to feel less afraid when he realised where he was. He didn’t know what the time was, if he had to guess it was probably after midnight. Hesitantly, he placed the back of his hand to his temple, feeling the stray beads of sweat running underneath. It’d been a long time since something had managed to scare him to that degree, much less a nightmare. He probably should have felt relaxed once he realised that none of what he just went through was real, but he still felt spooked by the entire experience. Jack couldn’t even remember most of what happened - it all blended together in a frightening blur. The only moment he could still make out in his mind from the dream were its final moments: his wife was standing in front of him, in the middle of the convenience store where she died, with a man holding a gun to the back of her head. He remembered screaming out, pleading for her to be spared. It was too late - the sound of a gunshot rang out and her body fell limp to the floor, a pool of blood forming underneath her head. That wasn’t even the worst of it, as when he looked down upon her corpse he realised that it wasn’t Lily’s body lying dead on the ground anymore. It was yours.

“God fuckin’ damn it” he cursed, placing his head in his hands. On top of everything else that had already happened, he now had to deal with the return of old haunting nightmares that somehow were even worse than the ones he had years ago, because now you were involved. He sat up abruptly, grabbing onto a discarded shirt that he’d thrown over the foot of the bed and pulling it over his head, using nothing but the moonlight pouring through the curtains to guide himself out of the room and into the darkened hall. He stole a glance towards where your room was, a droplet of fear etching itself into his mind. Before he entirely knew what he was doing, he was opening the door to your room, being careful not to make any sound lest you were awakened. His fears subsided when he saw you curled up beneath the covers, sound asleep and none the wiser to his presence. Exhaling gently, he untensed his shoulders and looked over at your sleeping form with a small but sweet smile on lips. Of course she would be fine. You’re being paranoid. 

Pulling the door behind him softly, he turned his attention to the end of the hall where the stairs were, the vague recollections of the nightmare rattling in the back of his mind. If he didn’t do something soon, he would keep himself up all night mulling over the implications of it all, and he wasn’t keen to spend the early hours of Sunday morning losing sleep because of his fucked head. He supposed it wasn’t that out of nowhere to dream about his wife, as he had been talking about her with you just last night. What scared him more so was that you were there, taking the bullet and ending up exactly as she had: dead. He couldn’t begin to fathom its meaning. Did it have to have meaning? Was it nothing more than a nightmare?

Scooping up a glass, he poured himself a generous amount of whiskey to sip on, returning the bottle back to the corners of your liquor cabinet. He probably should have asked before helping himself but it wasn’t like you were awake to answer to him, and he had a feeling you wouldn’t notice anyway, considering he’d found the aforementioned bottle pushed to the furthest reaches of the cabinet. When he noticed the label on the bottle, he couldn’t keep himself from smirking at the irony of it - of course you’d keep the Jack Daniels whiskey towards the back. Reclining into the couch with the glass in his hands, he took an absentminded sip while his mind further delved into the worrying implications of such a dream. 

The only part of it all that made sense was that the dream had been about his deceased wife - with the discussion that happened between the two of you last night about her it was only logical that his subconscious had lingered on some parts of it. After you’d turned in for the night Jack had stayed up for a little while longer, seated out on that veranda with a pensive look and the bottle of bourbon you’d neglected to bring back inside. Your words made rings around his mind, sparking a debate of sorts with himself as he considered your criticisms towards him. The emotional part of him wanted to blindly hate, and to keep on doing exactly what he’d always been doing. But when he realised that blind hate had gotten him into this whole mess in the first place, he’d allowed himself to listen more carefully to your words, and to examine them on a deeper level. Upon knowing your own past with loss and pain at the hands of another, it made him take a step back and actually look at everything that had transpired in Cambodia, all the little things that led him to working against an organisation that he once devoted himself to. Whereas you’d taken steps to try and live in a world without your parents, he’d remained angry and hurt, stuck in a world that had long moved on from the tragedy and still feeling every raw cut of emotion that losing her dealt. Sure, he wasn’t exactly inconsolable over it constantly - he had been able to live for sixteen years without Lily. If he went to a psychiatrist, he knew exactly what they’d say to all that: “You’ve externalised your hate onto someone easier to blame, in this instance addicts, when really the only person you feel should be to blame is yourself for not being there to save her”, or something like that. He couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the ludicracy of it all. Never in a million years did he think he’d be one for deep introspection. What in the goddamn has this world come to?

Even so, your words wouldn’t leave his mind. Did you have a point? Was it wrong to blame every addict on the planet for the actions of a few? In a rational sense, he could see what you were saying. His actions hadn’t been based on rationality though, it was all emotion. His instincts wanted him to reject the notion of him being ideologically wrong in this, a notion he in turn fought to reject from himself. One thing in particular that Eggsy had said to him during their final confrontation had stuck out to him at that moment: “You’re working for the president?”. He’d denied it at the time, and there was truth to his denial: as he put it himself, he didn’t want any kind of association with that asshole. At the same time, his feelings on the matter did happen to crossover with the president's own agenda, and some part of that in general hadn’t sat right with him. 

Would it even matter by this stage if he’d accounted for his errors? He’d already single -handedly destroyed all that he had by then, the only thing that could properly atone him in his own opinion would probably be death, and he’d be damned if he was gonna let himself die any time soon. The realisation that he might have to spend the rest of his days with the guilt of the incident in Cambodia eating away at him wasn’t too kind on his psyche, but he was ready to accept it in lieu of the alternative. And damn it, if there wasn’t something about that judgemental way you’d looked at him that gave him enough of a kick in the teeth to want to do better. You’d said it yourself that you didn’t believe him to be a bad man. Maybe somehow he could redeem himself enough to even be half of what you’d described of him. 

Drumming a lone finger along the fine seam of the couch cushion, his thoughts circled back around to the disturbing dream and everything it entailed, including the part that had shaken him the most. Why you? Why were you of all people appearing in his nightmares? And not only that, why did you take the place of his long dead wife at the end? His mind was ticking into overdrive to decipher every little detail. There was only one other time in his life he remembered seeing you in his dream, and that was when you two were dating. He could chalk up your sudden appearance in his subconscious to the conversation the both of you were having the night before - it would explain the return of his nightmares about Lily too, although his mind swayed towards ruminating on a much more confronting possibility.

What if it means I’ve fallen back in love with her?

As soon as the concept crossed his mind, Jack frantically sought to purge it from his mind altogether. What a foolish idea, he reasoned to himself, taking a larger sip of whiskey out of the glass. There wasn’t anymore to this, and he shouldn’t be throwing out such wild theories based on a nightmare of all things. He went and thought back to the small moments you two had shared throughout the weeks together, times where one lingering touch almost seemed to convey something more. He realised just how many times he’d caught himself staring at you the last few weeks, or the times his touch lingered on yours a second longer than it should have, things he hadn’t noticed until he began to pick apart his own behaviour and examine it underneath a microscope. Old habits die hard, I guess. He may have teased you about making him coffee by “accident” a couple of weeks back, but there wasn’t meant to be any insinuation behind it. It was just that - a harmless tease, a simple reflex of his infamous flirtatious charm. None of this necessarily meant there were any reignited feelings, and furthermore, if by some insane stroke of dumb luck that did happen to be the case, then they were only small at best, fleeting in nature. He couldn’t fall for you again. He couldn’t. Not after putting you through so much pain.

No matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was nothing, even he wasn’t buying it tonight. If he was falling for you again, how would you take it? Not well he guessed, as you still felt hurt by his actions. Why wouldn’t you? He was the one that hurt you then came back into your life without warning because he had to go screw up the one good thing he still had. It was painful to be reminded of how little still had left by that time: his status as an agent stripped from him, everyone he ever loved being dead and buried, and not able to return back home as he was still on the run. Him being at your ranch at all was putting you in enough danger, a fact that made him uncomfortable in of itself. Falling for you would make things more complicated than they already were.

She doesn’t have to find out. Keep it to yourself, and she’ll never know. 

That’s it. That’s what he’ll do. He won’t ever mention these returning feelings of affection towards you, and in doing that, hopefully they will run their course and die out. Jack would still be courteous towards you, it went without saying since you were implicating yourself in all of this by hiding a fugitive. He could do that, right? Ignore it all, and avoid anything more than general amicable gestures. A part of him hurt to think of that, especially when those thoughts he had when you two were on the veranda together last night pushed themselves to the forefront of his mind. The way your hair had looked splayed out over your shoulders under the dim porch light, the burn in your eyes that gleamed as you’d admonished him for every mistake he ever made that shouldn’t have made him so entranced. He chastised himself for thinking so lewdly of you in that moment, hating how the very image of you in such a light darted straight to his groin. Finishing off the last dredges of whiskey, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand and let out a heavy sigh. 

Forget about it. Leave her be. You’ve hurt her enough. 

_______________ 

At long last, there was finally a lull in the day, giving you some off time to relax and decompress a bit. There was still an hour to go before the ranch closed for the night, though nobody else had any riding lessons booked and it was unlikely that anybody was going to show up unannounced at five in the evening. To say the day had been busy would be selling the whole experience short - downright exhausting would have been a more accurate way to put it. There was a function going on for a good chunk of it, a birthday party for the son of some big-shot oil tycoon. You’d been worried your injury would slow down your progress with getting tasks done but to your pleasant surprise you were able to manage just fine, though having your other employees and Jack around had also been a huge help. It’d been four weeks since you’d gotten injured, and according to the doctor during your semi-regular checkups the recovery process was coming along nicely, which had been more than evident to you with the lessening pain. Sadly, you wouldn’t be able to get the cast off for a while, despite your protests. You didn’t see why it all had to take so long: you hadn’t been in any excruciating pain for a good while so it was clearly healing. As well as the cast being a nuisance when bathing and the like, it was also annoyingly itchy, leading you to talking yourself out of shoving a coat hanger down the side of it in an attempt to stop it several times. If only you didn’t have a ranch to run, then you could take an antihistamine pill and be done with it. 

Dragging yourself back into the house, you headed straight for the stairs, eager to lie down and doze a little - normally a long day like that would call for a bottle of scotch. This time round, however, you decided to forego the alcohol in favour of a more straightforward way to relax. Once you’d come to the door to the guest bedroom upstairs you felt compelled to stop, your mind wandering to where Jack was at that very moment. Last you’d seen him that day he’d been bringing the horses in. The two of you had stopped to chat for awhile, your usual bitter-edged banter being exchanged, things playing out just as they should when suddenly that same familiar feeling started to make itself known, the same thing you’d felt when he’d handed you the painkillers, or when you two had been out on the veranda a little while back. That spark, so to speak, the frightening feeling of something burning in you, something that shouldn’t be there in the first place. You’d instinctively ended the conversation soon after, making up some excuse about needing to take care of some accounting and hurrying off. Thinking about it now you couldn’t stop yourself from going a tad pink in the cheeks at your behaviour, thoroughly embarrassed for daring to act like you were inflicted with something as trivial as a schoolgirl crush. 

Don’t be soft on him. Don’t do this. You’re better than this, those words you repeated to yourself like a mantra started to wear thin during those weeks, especially after the conversation you two had shared where you’d divulged some of the pain closest to your heart. You never thought that you’d tell anybody what you felt after your parents had died, not in a million years, so to have you in a position where you were comfortable enough to reveal such details was nothing short of astounding, particularly when one took into account the exact person you’d told it all to. You could justify these choices with the flimsy excuse of being drunk, but even you knew that in order to run your mouth about something that personal, even while intoxicated, meant you had to feel a certain amount of trust to the other person. Did you trust Jack? Was that what was happening here? To that, you couldn’t fully answer, as you didn’t really know. 

Glancing from the doorknob to the stairs and back, you twisted the handle and allowed yourself into the spare bedroom, letting your feet move you towards the closet at the back of the room. Like a woman possessed, you didn’t stop yourself from doing any of this, the feeling of your heartbeat ricocheting through your chest. It had been years since you permitted yourself to look at any of this stuff, let alone giving any of it a second thought. Out of sight, out of mind, you’d thought to yourself when you’d originally boxed it all away, not being able to bear throwing any of it out. Sliding the doors open, you took note of the fact that everything was left in its precise location indicating that true to his word, Jack hadn’t meddled in any of it. A small sigh of relief escaped your lips while you sunk to your knees, poking your head through the rows of old coats that you kept neglecting to donate or sell to the very back of the closet where your eyes locked onto what you’d been originally seeking: a plain velvet blue shoebox shoved underneath an ugly knitted blanket that you plainly despised. 

For as much of a hardline no-nonsense woman others perceived you as, a huge part of you was deeply sentimental towards both people and things, or more specifically, things people had given you, hence the choice to simply box up every gift and memento he’d ever given you rather than setting fire to it in some overly dramatic yet cinematic manner. When Jack and you had broken up, you’d gathered up everything that reminded you of him, thrown it in a box and then tossed it into the back of the closet of your apartment to be forgotten forever. When you’d taken over the family ranch from your parents, the box had ended up in the guest room closet instead due to you not wanting an object holding that many sorrowful memories anywhere near where you slept. Taking the box out and setting it down in front of you, you stared at it frostily for a minute, considering throwing it back into the closet and forgetting that you ever wanted to open it. Ultimately you caved, lifting the lid off and opening up the treasure trove of mementos, symbols of a love that used to be that became tarnished with time. 

A lot of the items in question were photographs, a couple of polaroid shots of the two of you out at some bar in New York thrown in with the myriad of photos depicting you on various other dates with him. One in particular that caught your eye was a polaroid that had a heart drawn in red permanent marker on the white margins - you were wearing Jack’s Stetson and had one arm thrown around his neck, looking as if you hadn’t a care in the world while he looked up at you with those heart-meltingly gorgeous brown eyes of his, as if nobody else in the world existed except for you. You could still recall the smell of the cigarette smoke from that day, how the loud music reverberated through your ears the entire night you’d spent there with your head rested against his shoulder, ignoring all your other friends in favour of him. You caught yourself grinning at the memory as if you were some kind of lovesick fool. Back then you might’ve been. Not anymore though. Not now.

That’s what you continued to tell yourself while you sorted through the box’s contents, pulling out items ranging from small bits of jewelry to a small cat plushie that he’d won for you at the county fair. Your gaze zeroed in on a small silver chain necklace with a little horseshoe charm dangling on the end, earning yet another foolish smirk from you. Jack had bought that for you as a Christmas present, although you had insisted to him that he didn’t have to go all out on a gift for you. He’d even gotten the underside engraved with your name, which you traced over with the pad of your finger at that very moment.

Looking through all these gifts and the significance they once held to you, your mind started to wander back to the possibility you’d considered during your last proper talk with Jack, questioning once more if he deserved such harsh hostility being thrown towards him. You didn’t want to let yourself be hurt again, so it only seemed logical to make yourself guarded and keep him at an arm's length. With that said, time and time again he’d managed to surprise you - he hadn’t been pestering you as much you thought he would. Sure, he did jokingly insinuate that one time you made him coffee that you were growing fond of him but other than that he’d kept the charm to a minimum, or at least, less than you were used to in the past. It all made sense to you after you’d learned what happened to him that brought him back to you, his magnificent fall from grace so to speak. You meant what you said to him that night - you didn’t think he was a bad person, rather just someone who’s done bad things out of hurt and anger. With everything he told you about his wife’s death, you couldn’t help feeling a sense of powerful empathy towards him, a feeling that scared you a little to tell you the truth. It’d been easy for years to write him off as a liar and a player, but in reality, Jack was far more complicated than that.  How ironic: the advice you gave him ended up being a hundred percent relevant to yourself at the same time, you huffed with an absence of amusement. 

If you had to be completely honest with yourself, without any kind of lies or facade to keep up, you didn’t know what you felt about Jack anymore. You couldn’t say you hated him, no, hate was far too strong of a word. Actually, you couldn’t really say you even disliked him that much anymore. But you didn’t really like him either. Or did you? Once again, the thoughts of how his touch had made you feel over those last few weeks invaded your mind, things that by all means shouldn’t make you feel some type of way but did. Hell, even how you continued to make his coffee exactly how he liked it every morning, not bothering to question it anymore than necessary for the sake of your own sanity. 

Shaking your head, you let out a heavy sigh as you glowered down at the box witheringly. Great, now you’d made yourself confused on your own emotions, all because you felt the need to reminisce on the past. You’re being ridiculous about this. You don’t feel that way about Jack, and if you did, you can’t have him. He’s on the run, he’s a criminal now, and more to the point he broke your heart once. Who’s to say he won’t do it twice? Do yourself a favour for once. Ignore those feelings. Ignore it, and they’ll go away.

You quickly boxed up everything soon after that, pushing it to the back of the closet as if you’d never been there at all. Lifting yourself to your feet, you neglected to look back when you maneuvered yourself out the door and back into the hall, pulling your mind back towards any kind of ranch duties you could muster up out of thin air that you had to attend to, anything that could distract you from the small pink tinge that had crept across your cheeks that refused to leave, or the racing of your heart with every step you took. 

 __________

After a day that felt like it dragged on forever, you’d been looking forward to turning in for the night. For whatever reason, everything that could have gone wrong that day decided to go wrong - one of the horses had done a runner during one of the riding lessons and you’d had to go out and try to catch the bastard. It took forever to rope the damn horse back into the property. Jack, you and another one of the instructors managed to catch him in the end but it ended up setting your schedule behind for the rest of the day. Later on in the day, some entitled kid had come down and decided he didn’t like the horse he’d been assigned to ride, waltzing right into the stables and picking out one that he deemed more suited for him. The horse, one of the older boys, was understandably annoyed by this random loud kid appearing out of nowhere and being rough with him, leading to said entitled brat getting chomped on the arm. The rest of the day had to be spent dealing with the screaming kid and his mother, who was every bit as entitled as her son was. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? Despite your damndest to put on a smile and placate the woman who was screaming threats of a lawsuit, she still wasn’t letting up so you’d metaphorically thrown your hands up in frustration and told her straight to shut up. She’d left soon after that, huffing and threatening to get your entire business shut down. You weren’t scared in the least of her empty threats: you’d dealt with hundreds of other people just like her in your stint running the ranch and nine times out of ten nothing ever came from their tantrums. It was still supremely exhausting to deal with, draining your energy and putting you in a foul mood for the rest of the day. 

You’d been angling to end the day as soon as the first instance of idiocy started, so when it was finally late enough in the night and you’d grown tired of the bottle of merlot that you’d been speeding your way through, you’d taken yourself upstairs, thrown on a random t-shirt and sweatpants, and sunk right into bed ready to forget it all and start over.

However, you weren’t so lucky. From the moment you’d first entered your room that night, something had felt off. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it at first, so you’d tried to ignore it, writing it off as feeling slightly on edge from the rough day. The weird feeling wouldn’t go away though - everytime you closed your eyes, you felt like someone else was there, like there was another presence nearby. Five minutes passed before you’d flicked the lamp next to your bed on and looked around the room. You knew Jack had already gone to bed before you, and you couldn’t hear any sort of noise from downstairs that would indicate someone else being there. Nevertheless, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone else was there, maybe not in the house precisely but somewhere on the property, as if there were a pair of foreign eyes staring at you from afar. Your eyes darted towards the window, the curtains open to reveal the glimmering starry sky outside, your breath becoming shallow as you were finally able to place the exact feeling that was making you tense up in fear:

You felt like you were being watched. 

Diving out of bed, you scrambled towards the window and scanned the vast expanse of countryside surrounding your property, searching to see if there was anything out there that was unfamiliar to you. Nothing - all you could see were the stretches of field that lay beyond your ranch, with a lone few collection of trees situated off the edge of your property, exactly as it always looked. That alone should have eased your nerves a bit but for whatever reason that feeling of being watched wouldn’t go away. You glanced back at your bed, trying to talk yourself into downplaying it all as you being paranoid. There isn’t anyone out there.You’ve had a rough day, and about three glasses of wine so you’re a little bit tipsy too, you told yourself as you trudged back to bed and pulled the covers over your head, a useless action that did nothing to quell the anxiety festering in you. For the next twenty minutes or so, you did everything you could to push your unease away in favour of sleep to no avail. The entire time you’d been lying there you felt like there were a pair of eyes burning into your back, directly across from where the window was, yet every time you sat yourself up to check there was nobody there. 

Fantastic, guess I’m not sleeping tonight then. Clearly, that creepy feeling wasn’t going to leave and you didn’t feel comfortable in that room anymore. Briefly you contemplated going down to sleep on the couch but that idea was dismissed almost as quickly as it came to you - if you felt like someone was watching the house, then moving sleeping locations wasn’t gonna solve anything. A part of you wanted to go grab a firearm and go on a patrol around the property to be safe, though once remembering that you were a little bit tipsy you didn’t feel it would be the best course of action to go hold a gun right then. Throwing a single glance towards your bedroom door, another idea popped into your head, and before you could try and talk yourself out of it you were already out the door and down the hall to where the spare bedroom was. 

Opening the door as quietly as you possibly could, you poked your head inside and peered over to where Jack was laying in bed, covers tangled up around him and facing away from you, appearing to be fast asleep. “Jack? Are...are you awake?” you called out hesitantly. 

It took a minute for him to respond, by that time you’d come close to convincing yourself that you were being a baby about all of this and that you should go back to bed. “Darlin’? Is there somethin’ wrong?” he replied, his thick southern drawl sounding groggy, matching his dazed expression he wore while he fought to keep his eyes open. 

“Sort of...maybe, I don’t know...I can’t sleep” you admitted. 

“Having nightmares or somethin’?” he asked, sitting himself up in bed to properly face you. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down his torso ever so briefly - it wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen a million times before but damn, he did look good. Shaking your head fervently, you attempted to ignore that fleeting thought and focused back on what you’d come there to say, proceeding to reply. “No, no, nothing like that. I just...ok, this might sound a little bit crazy but I can’t help feeling like I’m being watched in there, and it’s freaking me out”.

You could see Jack’s brow furrow through the darkness, a look of concern creeping over his face while he thought on what you’d just said. “Watched? Like how?”. 

“I don’t really know how to explain it, if I’m gonna be totally honest. All I know is that everytime I close my eyes I feel like there’s somebody outside. Whenever I go to look out the window though, I don’t see anyone” you explained, and at almost the very second you finished your sentence you could see Jack’s eyes widen, the last remnants of sleep falling away and being replaced by an alert and alarmed expression. Before you could say anything about it, he was already throwing the covers off him and sliding out of bed, hustling over to where you were standing by the door. “Stay right here. I’ll go take a look for myself” he instructed sternly, pushing himself past you and making a beeline straight for your bedroom. Instinctively, and in all honesty against both his wishes and your own better judgement, you followed in behind him, seeing him linger close to the wall just enough so that he was out of direct sight of the window. Slowly, he advanced forward to a position where he could properly take a look out, his eyes steely as they examined the landscape, the tensity of his demeanour feeding into your own feelings of concern. 

“Jack, what’s going on?” you asked in a small voice, something that was uncharacteristically meek of you. In all fairness, something like this had never happened before. You’d hoped that Jack would come in, take a quick look, confirm there was nobody on the property and give you a little bit of peace of mind but the way he was acting made the possibility of someone actually being out there all the more real to you. 

“Darlin’, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna need you to be quiet for a second” he orders, not tearing his eyes away from the window for a single second. You didn’t know how long you two stood there for - it was probably no more than a minute or two at most, even so it felt like an eternity to you, until at long last you saw some of the tension in Jack’s shoulders dissipate and he finally slunk away from the window. “Give me a second, I just gotta go check something” he mumbled, dashing back out of your room and still looking vaguely distressed at the entire predicament. This time around, you did as he said, not wanting to leave the house on the off chance there really was something to worry about. You heard him run back into his own room briefly before darting off downstairs, hearing the unmistakable click of the front door lock opening. You had no idea what to make of any of this - why was he acting so weird? Was there something you should know? Was there really something to your weird feeling and should you be genuinely scared?

The sound of gravel crunching from the ground below alerted you, leading for you to wander over to the window for what felt like the millionth time that night to see for yourself what was going on. Your eyes first landed on Jack, who was pacing the gravel and looking off into the distance, searching for something. You could see he was holding something in his hand but couldn’t quite get a proper look at it as he was angled away from you. He disappeared from your view and a moment later he was back upstairs with you, appearing to be infinitely more relieved than he was before. Now you could properly see what he’d gone to fetch from his room once he’d left: his gun from his days as an agent, the moonlight streaming in through the window glimmering off the silver barrels and onto the floor. 

“Nothin’ out there, thank fucking christ” he sighed, giving you a smile that was meant to be comforting. His gesture did nothing to ease your worries, despite the confirmation that there wasn’t anything out there like you’d originally hoped. Along with still feeling uneasy being in that room, there was also the matter of what you’d witnessed in Jack before, the plain and unconcealable look of suspicion and worry that had been showing on him. 

“Are you alright? You...seemed worried. The way you were looking out that window, it was...like you were searching for something in particular...”.

“It’s nothing, sweetheart. Don’t worry your pretty little head off about it” he dismissed, obviously wanting to put this whole incident behind the two of you. You were having none of it, so you pressed further, taking a single step closer to where he was standing in the door. “You sure about that? ‘Cause you kinda got your gun out” you pointed out, your eyes flickering down to the weapon resting in his hands knowingly. “Did you think it was Statesman or something?”.

Jack looked surprised that you’d dared to be that direct in your line of questioning. He supposed he shouldn’t have expected any less from you, following your eyes down to where he was holding his gun. “Well, if I’m gonna be honest, yeah. For a moment there, I was worried they’d found me somehow. But there isn’t anybody out there - besides, if they were doin’ surveillance on the house they woulda had me led away in cuffs already. You’re safe as pie, sugar” he confessed. 

Exactly as you thought. You’d wondered if Statesman would ever make an appearance, suddenly becoming hot on Jack’s tail. So far nothing had happened, thankfully, and seeing as your strange feeling tonight turned out to be nothing, you permitted yourself to relax a little, despite the still present feeling of discomfort from being in that room. “Alright...thank you for checking. Sorry I woke you up for something stupid”. 

“Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I haven’t been sleeping great this last week anyway so I wasn’t even fully asleep when you came in. You make sure to get plenty of rest, ok?” he nodded towards you, turning to leave the room, the comfort of his presence slipping away from you and leaving you to feel the same odd and uncomfortable unrest that plagued you all night. 

Glancing back over towards your bed, you dreaded the thought of trying to go back to sleep in that thing tonight. It sounded so childish and silly for you to say, or rather think, but you really didn’t want to be in that room tonight. If you stay in here you aren’t gonna get a wink of sleep.

What you did next was something you never thought you’d do in a million years. In your defense, it’d been a long day, you’d had some alcohol earlier, and you just had to deal with the intense unnerve of being watched only to discover that your feeling was nothing more than a spate of paranoia. With all that taken into account, it was only logical that you asked what you did next. “Jack, wait” you called out before you could stop yourself, freezing once you saw him stop in the hallway and turn back towards you with those sweet eyes of his. “Look, I know this is an odd request but...can I sleep in your room? Only for tonight. I don’t know, I still feel a little on edge and it’s dumb but I’d rather be around someone else right now” you mumbled, simultaneously hating yourself for asking in the first place and feeling utterly embarrassed at your own audacity. 

Some part of you wanted him to laugh in your face. Laugh at you and make some stupid little quip about you being a “big girl” who could handle herself. It would be easier to hate him still that way. Of course, he didn’t do that at all. What he did instead was give you the sweetest damn smile you’d ever seen from him, different from those charming smirks you were used to and harkened closer to those rare moments from when you two were together that he would lay down the bravado and be vulnerable. “Sugar, you don’t need to feel bad for askin’ at all. I understand completely where you’re comin’ from” he reassured, holding his hand out and beckoning for you to come forward. And come forward you did, following him out into the hall and into his own room, the anxiety from before fading into nothing and being replaced by relief. 

“Thank you. I know we’re not...like that anymore but…” you stumbled dumbly as you glided over towards the bed, fatigue overcoming your brain and making you more impatient to be in bed and asleep as fast as possible. It had to be extremely late by then and you wanted to get a decent amount of sleep before having to get up and go about with business as usual the next day.  

Jack, meanwhile, was on the other side of the room throwing his gun back into a chest of drawers. “Say no more, honeybee. If you want, I can sleep on the floor if it makes you more comfortable” he posited, to which you promptly snapped your head back up and stared at him as if he were crazy. “You don’t have to do that, Jack, I’m not about to be kicking you out of your bed”. 

“Technically it’s your bed, not mine”. 

Rolling your eyes at him, you flopped down on the pillow and sighed. “Doesn’t matter, just...stay here. I’d rather have someone close right now, ok?”. If you weren’t already tired beyond all reason, your brain might have been fretting over the oh so horrific implications of staying in the same bed as him, though if you were really being honest you couldn’t care less right then. It’s not like sleeping in the same bed meant anything, plenty of people did that all the time. So what if you wanted someone near after feeling scared? Wouldn’t someone else do the same thing in your position?

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart. I’ll keep to the other side of the bed if you’d like” Jack assured you, sliding into the other side, doing exactly as he said and keeping a safe enough distance from you. It might’ve been silly for you to care so much, but you had to admit it was nice having someone else be there, and at the least it calmed your anxiety enough for you to feel fine sleeping. Stealing one last brief glance over at him, you wished him goodnight and let yourself relax truly for the first time in hours, letting the world fall away and fade into nothing as you closed your eyes and passed out in mere minutes of being there.

 ___________

When you awoke the next morning, it was to the strands of sunlight streaming through the parted breaks in the curtain, shining right over your face and rousing you from your slumber. Through bleary eyes, you became aware of the room around you, memories of the night before flooding back to you instantaneously. You noticed you felt warmer, becoming aware of the heavy feeling on your body, which caused your eyes to snap open fully. Looking back over your shoulder, you saw Jack, still sleeping and curled into your back, his arm lazily stung around you. You knew you two hadn’t fallen asleep like that, reasoning that he must have reached out to you during the night, leading to the position you were in now. You could feel the light tickle of his breath against the nape of your neck, something so small managing to light an unexpected spark in your heart. You should have pushed him off. You should have woken him up. You should have done a million other things in that moment instead of the one thing you did.

When instead of flinging him off you and darting out of bed like a skittish cat you curled yourself further into his light embrace, the mortifying realisation hitting you right then with a full force - Jack Daniels, the man who’d broken your heart, was caressing you in his sleep.

And you didn’t mind it, not one single bit.

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[ahkaahshi]

12:27 AM [kuroo tetsurou x reader]

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem reader (platonic relationship)

genre: fluff and angst

warning(s): swearing, brief mentions of alcohol consumption

word count: 2.8k

overview: you go on one, final late night food run with your best friend to commemorate your last evening in tokyo

notes: as stated above, the reader and kuroo’s relationship here is purely platonic. it just felt right. also, this one’s a bit more dialogue-heavy than usual, but it’s intentional :) hope you enjoy!

At 12:27 AM, Kuroo’s standing in the kitchen, poring over an open cupboard of food—none of which seems to fulfill his cravings. Tapping the toes of his house slippers against the tiled floor, he sends a glance over at where you’re sitting on the couch, watching the movie he’d put on with rapt attention. His attempts at successfully blocking out thoughts of what’s to come tomorrow are foiled once more when his gaze settles on the luggage waiting patiently in the entryway.

“Hey, (f/n),” he calls out to you, shutting the cabinets in front of him and turning away from them. The eyebrow you raise at him expectantly has him continuing, “Whaddya say to going on one, last late-night food run in the city with your old pal?”

With a snicker, you toss the mountains of blankets off your body and stand up as you say, “You act as if today’s my last day on the planet, Tetsu.”

“Seriously, though, who knows when we’ll be able to do this again?” he wonders, “Might as well live like it’s your last day on the planet, even if it’s just for a night, right?”

You shake your head as you pull on an old Nekoma hoodie out of your backpack that matches the one he’s wearing. “Quit it, dumbass; you’re gonna make me all sentimental.”

A grin spreads across his lips and he gives you a playful shake once the two of you have stepped into your shoes and left his home. It warms your heart but shatters it at the same time, since you’re painfully aware of the fact that tonight will be the last time you see it in person for what could be months. And if his words hadn’t already made you a bit emotional, the drive through Tokyo would’ve done the trick.

He rolls the windows of his car down, letting in the cool, nighttime air that whistles past as the vehicle picks up speed. In an effort he wants to seem as spontaneous as possible, he plays music from a playlist the two of you had made together back when you were in high school, shouting and dancing along to the lyrics of every song with you with an enthusiasm that has you doubling over in your seat with laughter.

Every stoplight gives other drivers and pedestrians buzzing around the bustling downtown area the opportunity to shoot you judgmental looks or those of entertainment, but you’re too busy living in the moment with him that you barely notice or even care, for that matter. You don’t know where he’s taking you, but you don’t bother to ask. Instead, you find yourself lost in admiring the dazzling array of lights passing you by during your drive through the lively city. Knowing you’ll be in a new one by this time tomorrow has you gazing upon everything you’d simply passed by before without a second thought with a newfound appreciation and lingering nostalgia.

Eventually, after Kuroo’s impressed you by maneuvering his car into a tighter parking spot than you thought he could fit in, you find your destination is a small restaurant tucked away in one of the back alleys aglow with neon signs. Though it’s packed to the brim with other patrons enjoying a late-night meal, there’s plenty of conversation between you and your friend to fill the time you spend waiting for a table.

Once you’re inside, you bask in the warmth heavy with the delicious smell of fresh food as the two of you sit together and reminisce over steaming bowls of ramen. “You know one thing I’ll never forget?” Kuroo begins, fishing out a few plump noodles with his chopsticks. You glance over at him expectantly while you blow on the broth in your spoon and he chuckles before adding, “The look on Lev’s face when he hit you in the back of the head during warmups and you gave him the coldest stare I’ve ever seen.”

“I felt so bad when I realized it was him, though, ‘cause I thought it was you!” you defend.

Kuroo’s unoccupied hand flies to his chest to complete the feigned look of shock on his face. “And you were gonna look at me like that if it was?”

“You were always aiming for me, Tetsu.”

“You were always on the court!”

“Helping Coach toss and keeping hitters like you from fucking up your ankles by coming down on stray volleyballs, you asshole.”

Kuroo shrugs and comments, “I never hit you hard, though,” and moves another serving of noodles to his lips. “Just wanted to keep our beloved manager on her toes is all.”

With an incredulous scoff, you retort, “Yeah, you did that, alright. And even well into uni, too.”

There’s a pause in your conversation as you both take a moment to enjoy your food before Kuroo questions, “Could you please submit your evidence to the court?”

“Halloween,” you state, (e/c) eyes laser focused on his own, hazel ones. He’s narrowing them, as if he’s trying to remember the event in question, so you help him out by continuing, “You and Kou were insistent on coming with me to a raging house party that night. The two of you got so, annoyingly drunk that you were laughing at the top of your lungs like hyenas about videos of pets dressed up in costumes at three in the morning.”

He raises a finger contemplatively. “I might’ve blacked out, but that does sound like something I’d do.”

“In that case, you probably forgot about all the noise complaints I got, then; and how the owner of the place came to scold me in person.”

A bashful grin forms on his lips at the memory you’ve reminded him of, and he concedes, “Alright, alright; we’ve both done a lot of stupid shit in the time we’ve known each other, so let’s just leave it at that. Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t want me to remind you of the time you lost your bikini top in the ocean and were too mortified to move, so you made me swim in and get it, right?”

“This conversation is over,” you declare, face growing hot with embarrassment as a vivid image of the moment in question flashes across your mind.

As the two of you continue enjoying your delicious meals and reminiscing about other, more positive experiences you’ve shared together, you feel the knot that’s been settled in the pit of your stomach for what seems to be weeks now make itself known once more. In spite of your outward calmness and enthusiasm, you were starting to have trouble hiding your nervousness. The last thing you’d wanted was for anyone to notice and try to talk you out of your decision, but Kuroo’s far more perceptive than most and knows you well enough to understand what you’re thinking.

When the two of you finish your meals and find the strength to scoot out of your chairs, he notices the way you gaze longingly at your surroundings. He catches sight of the gentle glimmer of emotion in your eyes as you request that he drive you anywhere he wants—just to hold off on going back to his place for a bit longer. And each time he takes his eyes off the road ahead to cast a glance in your direction, he finds your attention fixated on all the buildings and people that pass by.

But it’s not until the two of you arrive at a nearly empty parking lot outside a large, sprawling park that he decides to bring up the question of what’s on your mind. “Hey, (f/n),” he says, making you turn on your heels to face him where you’d been standing a few feet away from his car, watching the twinkling lights in the distance. He looks so carefree, perched on the hood of his vehicle, hands shoved into the pockets of his black joggers, whereas you’re much more on edge, trying to keep your foot-tapping against the loose gravel to a minimum.

“Hmm?”

He purses his lips for a moment before answering slowly, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while—the last day we’d spend together. And it’s one of those things that you just can’t really prepare yourself for, no matter how hard you try to, y’know?” The muscles around your brow relax, and your expression becomes more curious upon being pulled out of your worrisome thoughts. “I know how I’m feeling, but how are you holding up?”

Your fingers interlace themselves as you bite the inside of your cheek. Even if you want to, there’s no bullshitting Kuroo. Not when he’s seen you in every state you can imagine and is often one to pick up on your feelings before you’re even aware they exist, though he often brings them to your attention with a more lighthearted approach than most would think appropriate to take. Doesn’t mean he cares any less, however; and you can see the genuine concern in his hazel eyes shining a paler color in the white moonlight.

“I’m excited,” you tell him. With the way your heart’s pounding in your chest, you’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear its pulse in your voice. Moving towards him to occupy the space on the hood beside him, you take a deep breath and look up at him. “But I’m terrified at the same time.” It’s instantaneous, the way you lean into his touch the moment he slings his arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him. “Since we were kids, I was always talking about wanting to move to another country, remember?”

“I thought you just said that to make me sad whenever I pissed you off.”

You lightly swat his chest and argue, “Oh, be quiet.” But, before you can continue with what you were going to say, you find yourself focused on the words he’d spoken instead. “Wait, did you actually mean that?”

With a gentle chuckle, he shrugs. “Nah, I was joking.” The adam’s apple in his throat bobs when he turns his attention towards the sky and admits, “But I always did get a little sad whenever you mentioned it. Still do.” A moment of silence filled with the distant sounds of traffic and the chirping of insects ensues during which you watch your fingers toy with the aglets hanging off your hoodie. “I mean, come on, now; what kinda kid wants one of his best friends to move away when he knows how big the world is but how singular and small he is?”

“Tetsu,” you murmur softly, feeling your lip tremble with emotion and your eyes sting with oncoming tears, “You’ve always been there for me through, like, everything. Or, at least, it feels that way. Part of the reason why I’m so scared of leaving is because I’m gonna be all by myself, in a brand-new place, just thrown into the deep end of things and having to teach myself how to swim all over again. But another part of it is because I’m gonna be away from you. And even now, as an adult, I still don’t wanna move away from my best friend.”

He doesn’t even have to look at you or hear you sniffle to know you’re crying, and he tightens his grip around you, placing his other hand on your back. Appreciative of the gesture, you bury your face in the soft fabric of his sweatshirt and pull him into an embrace so you can hold onto him for a few, long moments that you wish didn’t have to end.

“Hey, it’s all good as long as you don’t forget about me once you make it big out there, okay?” His tone is teasing and lighthearted, as per usual, but you can hear the subtlest break in his voice that has more tears cascading down your cheeks and pooling in the creases of his sweater.

“I’m not gonna forget you—I could never—but, what if I can’t do it?” you whimper, “What if I get there and I hate the job, or I hate my coworkers, or I hate life over there? Then I’ll be stuck out there with no one.”

Rubbing your back gently, he assures you, “If worst comes to worst, you can come back home and regroup. You’ll always have a place to stay here. Well… unless I get super famous and end up being offered a job to travel around the world.” You can’t help but snicker at his comment, and neither can he. “Even if I’m not physically there, I’ll always be there in spirit. And don’t discount the possibility of me showing up at your doorstep, since we know I have a tendency to do that.”

“Like a stray cat I keep feeding.”

“Exactly. Maybe you’ll even get two if I can convince Kenma to come with me. We’ll have to see how long he can survive off his Switch alone.”

Your bodies both shake with laughter for a few moments before you pull away from each other, and his hands slide onto your shoulders to give them a firm squeeze. Keeping your head lowered for a moment, you drag the sleeves of your hoodie across your eyes to wipe up any stray tears you hadn’t left on his. When your gazes meet, though, the confidence in his almost entirely dissolves the knot that’s been building in your stomach for so long.

“Hey.” He shakes you gently, and you jokingly let your head roll about, eliciting more snickers from both of your mouths before looking at him expectantly and with your full attention. “Don’t let the worst-case scenario hold you back from something that could be great. You’re so quick to think about how likely the worst possible thing is to happen, but why can’t the best be just as likely?”

Playfully, you tease, “Wow, seems like someone’s trying to get me outta here,” with a smirk.

“(F/n),” he sighs, sending a long plume of steam upwards from his mouth. Giving you a firm pat on the arm, he admits, “I’m gonna miss you like hell. But this is what you’ve been wanting for so long, and I want you to do it so badly. Partly so I can say that I have a vacation property abroad, but mostly because you know I want the best for you, since you deserve it.”

Your lip quakes once again at his confession, but you manage to blink back the tears this time and crack a smile. “Okay. But if you’d better not get even the slightest bit sentimental or teary-eyed tomorrow or else I’m gonna cry like a bitch all the way through the airport.”

“Eyes will be dry as long as you promise to video call me the second you land so I can go on the cab ride with you and see the whole, cute apartment reveal thing that’s so trendy these days.”

A mixture of a giggle and a gentle sob leaves your mouth as you watch his figure distorted by your swimming vision rise from the hood of his car. You feel warm hands on your wrists pulling you up onto your feet before you’re ensconced in another tight hug while Kuroo rocks from one foot to the other.

“You’re gonna be fine.”

After giving you a squeeze hard enough to push the air out of your lungs, he releases his grasp around you and opens the door on the passenger’s side so you can climb in and retreat from the coldness of the night. “With all these emotions plus the food, I’m gonna knock out so fast when we get home,” you mumble with a soft sniffle, reaching for the packet of tissues in his glove compartment once he’s settled in the driver’s seat.

He scoffs and furrows his eyebrows at you as he sticks his keys in the ignition. “Who said you were sleeping tonight? You’ve got the whole plane ride tomorrow to do that.”

“Alright, you can’t blame me for being cranky, then.”

With a shake of the head, he shifts the car into reverse so he can back out of the parking lot and start the journey back to his home. While the music you’d been blasting earlier plays softly from the speakers, you rest your head on the door once more to watch your familiar surroundings breeze by outside.

“Tetsurou.” You glance over at him and his head of haphazardly styled hair that you’re sure won’t fit on the screen of your phone the next time you see him, and his eyes meet yours when he brings the car to a halt at a stop sign. “Thanks for spending my so-called last night on the planet with me.”

extra that didn’t make the cut: kuroo didn’t shed a tear at the airport until after he thought you’d left. but you’d actually just hid somewhere and caught him with watery eyes. you still video called him as soon as you landed, though.

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[trickstercheebs]

How about gordon comforting borrower! Benery after something scary happened? -HLVRAHigh 💖

alright here u goh! takes place a lil bit in the future of my fic :V

He was still getting used to knowing he had roommates, specially roommates he had just only found out about four months ago living with him. Since then everyday felt like he was learning a dozen or so more rules or facts about his new tiny group of...friends?

Tommy and Coomer were always more than happy to inform him about new things he was clueless about, and in return he did the same for anything they didn’t know that he did. He found out Coomer could access his computer with a level of ease he considered concerning...until he found out all Coomer liked to do was get lost in the endless holes of information that Wikipedia offered, along with some various cooking videos on youtube. Tommy would sometimes sit with him and read along on the screen, it was kinda cute watching the tiny pair sit on his wrist rest and scroll for a few hours. 

Bubby strangely would only come over to join the mini group when cooking was the subject..He seemed to only calm down when watching someone make some sort of dish...and of course when Coomer was beside him. Gordon found out after several scorching trial and errors that Coomer was a expert at getting Bubby to calm down and not set fires out of rage or stress. But he had been noticing lately even without Coomers help the mini firestorms had gone down considerably, for which he was ultimately thankful for.

Though...Gordon had taken notice that whenever he was in the kitchen, Bubby somehow always happened to be nearby to watch and sometimes give a few tips from the counter, and his few bad attempts never seemed to get too burned to warrant throwing out nowadays. Maybe sometime soon he ask Bubby officially to help him cook something for everyone.

Benry though...he was very strange to figure out at first. The others had fled being seen by him for weeks aside from him. Benry had come out the moment the so called “jig” was up and started talking with him for hours on end...And despite all that talking Gordon still had little to no idea what the tiny borrower was about. The “sweet voice” he did most of the time, while very pretty to watch float around his head, was just as strange.. He had asked Tommy from time to time to translate when he found out the other borrower seemed to know inherently what the colors translated to and would happily lend a hand in the form of some honestly cute little rhyme to make it easier to remember for them both. Eventually Gordon got the idea after a few weeks of this and started to slowly map out Benrys feelings throughout the days when the sweet voice was more present than his actual voice.

Today was one of those days, Gordon had woken up to the sounds of heavy rain and after a quick look to the weather channel saw it’d be like this most of the day with possible chances of thunderstorms. He personally liked when the heavy storms rolled through, the town really needed it after the dry spell it’s been having for the last few months or so. The resulting day was a sleepy one at best, Gordon setting up a slow cooker of his favorite soup to dig into when it was time to eat with everyone.

Until then he sat on the couch with some snacks and caught up on some shows he had been prompted into watching by his tiny group, knowing they’d all be out and about soon enough, he could already hear Coomer and Bubby on his computer. Tommy was likely with Sunny....or Sunkist as Tommy had renamed her these days.. It didn’t take long for him to feel a tiny weight settle itself on his right shoulder and a even tinyer yawn to reach his ears.

“Sup Gordo....sleepy day today? Fuckin...lofi chill rainstorms to sleep to man..”

“Mornin Benry, and yeah seems like today’s a sleepy one. Weather forecast says its gonna rain all day today.”

“Mhm...niiice, cosy bro mode today..”

“Pfft, you sound like you’re about to pass out on me Benry, didn’t you just wake up?”

“Maybe....? Not my fault big bro Gordo gotta be all fuckin warm n cosy. S’fuckin cheating..”

Gordon couldn’t help but chuckle at that last very tired sounding quip and glanced down at the borrower in question. Benry was splayed out almost like a cat on his broad shoulder sucking up his residual body heat, only to be jostled a bit by his laughter.

“C’mon dude get down from there, I don’t wanna knock you off on accident or something.”

“Mmm maybe later, comfy here just fine bro, won’t fall off I got like..excellent climber hacks trust me.”

“Alright then, but I’ll warn you when I feel like movin or something.”

“Hell yea man no worries here. Your lil buddy Benry’s got it all on lockdown.”

Gordon let out another laugh before they both settled down to watch whatever show he had picked out.

----

A few hours had passed in relative comfortable silence amidst the rain, the soft background noise making Gordon a tad bit sleepy even now when it hit. A bright flash lit up the somber gray world for a brief second, just long enough to rouse him into a bit more of a alert state when the second half came.

It sounded like a gunshot had gone off, the thunder rolling loud enough to rattle the windows with its concussive force. From his computer he could hear Bubby let out a surprised series of curses followed by what he could assume was Coomer rattling off the wikipedia article on thunderstorms. So far so good right?

He heard a soft but tinny noise sound off beside him, or rather next to his head before another crack of thunder sounded off and made the lights flicker briefly with the charge.

“Jesus hell, guess this is quite the storm huh Benry? ......Benry?”

He looked to where the sleepy borrower should of been laying...only to find him missing entirely, and instead felt something..or hopefully someone clutching the side of his neck in a surprising death grip.

“Benry..? You alright down there? You uh...kinda gripping the living hell out of my neck there dude...Something wrong?”

That same tinny noise kicked off again and Gordon could see some small orbs float up...they looked alot like..rancid beer? He sat there for a moment and let the rhyme come to him given Benry’s reaction and refusal to talk or let go of him..

“Color like rancid beer...means acute fear? Benry lil bro..are you scared right now?”

He placed a hand against the spot he felt Benry clutching at him and felt the briefest nods against his fingers. Shit if it was loud to him then it must be outright deafening for someone like Benry and the others...though it seemed like Benry was the only one being affected right now.

Gordon let out a slow sigh and tried to gently ease Benrys death grip on his neck with both hands.

“It’s all good Benry, I’m here I gotcha..c’mon dude it’s fine I won’t let anything happen to you okay?”

Slowly he felt the grip lessen until he felt the weight shift slowly into his awaiting hands. Cupping them gently he moved to bring Benry up to face him and opened his hands. Inside was a clearly frightened borrower..Gordon felt a pang of saddness seeing that expression on the usually chill borrowers face. So instead he offered a warm smile and shifted to lay down on the couch, grabbing the blanket pooled around his lap in the process.

“It’s alright man, thunderstorms scare me too sometimes, y’know? They scared the hell outta me in college for years. But I learned about it and I slowly stopped being afraid..”

“...s’loud...wish the sky would shut its fuck..”

“Yeah it’s really loud..might mean it’s right on top of us..but I think it’ll move soon..wanna know a secret on how to tell its going away?”

“...tips and tricks from...big Gordos book of hacks? ..okay.”

Gordon snorts softly and lays his head against the far armrest of the couch and gently deposits Benry on his chest before adjusting the blanket over them both, Gordon seeing the soft blue glow of Benrys little eyes staring up at him as he got settled and placed a hand behind him for bonus warmth and protection..It seemed to do the trick as those vivid blues dulled to a soft sky blue and he felt Benrey sag against his chest after a few moments.

“When you see the lightening you count a few seconds..and when the thunder hits, that’s how many miles the storm is..the longer the pause means the farther away its getting..If you want I can show you and let you know how far or close the storm is.”

“....okay, sounds fucky but big science Gordo gotta know the good science..”

Gordon waited for a moment or two for the next flash and mentally counted down the seconds until the thunder sounded out...it was only a few seconds but it was already moving out by the sounds of things..possibly down the valley like most other storms did.

He relayed the message to Benry and saw that he did perk up a bit at the news.

“If you want, you can stay in there and I’ll tell you when its moving away, alright?”

“Mhm...sounds good to me man..”

What Gordon didn’t know though was that Benry had already nearly forgotten the storm thanks to a new sound overtaking the noise itself... Gordon had unknowingly placed him over his heart, or close enough to it that Benry could hear it as he laid against the other.. Coupled with the heat radiating off the giant human and darkness he felt...safer. He knew Tommy was going to rag on him later but..he felt nice being like this with the human. He might of had a little crush on the human and relished being close to him whenever he could. He was terrified of storms, the noise hurt his ears like hell and reminded him of...not so epic times..But thankfully Gordon pushed all those thoughts away and now he was here and safe.

It was all just enough to make him wanna sleep, he was warm and certainly cosy enough. Letting out a yawn he let those fail ass thoughts drift away as he looked up at Gordons smiling face and felt his own heat up a bit..Yeah he could sleep knowing someone like that was nearby.

“Gettin sleepy already Benry?”

“...maybe, wake lil Benny bro for supper please?”

“Pffft, yeah alright, I’ll let you know when it’s time to eat..get some rest Benry”

“M’kay boss, you got it.”

Benry smiled and mouthed something else privately before letting the slow thrum of Gordons heart and heat lead him into dreamland. Gordon being the comfortable man he was..accidentally nodded off as well shortly after.

Bubby woke them both up by threatening to burn Gordons beard off a few hours later. But for once the malice was not present in his voice.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Core Drive - Clean : Complete ✔

A/N: Wowzers this one was a long time coming. This story is primarily told through Logan’s POV. It is his story after all. But you’re a very large part of his story, and so it’s only right that you get your say. So what has life been like for you while Logan was working through things with Zeke and Miguel? You’re about to find out. 

Warnings: discussion and description of drug use and overdose. and i’m pretty sure i drop a bunch of fucks. 

Word Count: 5,928

What a day. You leaned your forehead against your front door as you keyed in your passcode. This overtime is really… Your finger missed the third digit, the lights flashing red as you sighed. But it wasn’t the overtime that was to blame for how you felt and you had no reason to lie to yourself. Except that I have to get over it. It’s… Waiting for the light to flash green you re-entered your code, correctly this time. You heard the soft whir and small click of the lock as it opened in the quiet hallway and you straightened up and turned the handle. It’s what he wanted. 

Opening the door you were surprised to find your roommate still awake, sitting cross-legged in the center of the couch, greenish light from the television reflecting off the walls in the darkened room. Checking the time on your phone you saw that it was well after midnight. Jordan’s usually out like a light by now… unless… You blinked at your phone screen and read the date. It’s Saturday. Shit. You were a whole two days behind. Or ahead. It didn’t matter. Saturdays hadn’t felt like Saturdays in longer than you cared to think about. Not since- 

“Hey!” Jordan opened her arms as you stepped inside and closed the door behind you. “Look who’s still awake!” She pointed to herself and despite how tired you were and how much you just wanted to shower so that you could crawl into bed, you had to laugh. “I’m watching this really horrible movie if you wanna join me?” You slipped your feet from your shoes and tossed your bag and keys on the counter. It has been a while since we hung out like this. Jordan passed you a bowl of chocolate covered pretzels without looking away from the screen. “I mean, it’s really bad, like 10 car pile up on the 405 bad.” 

You took a handful of pretzels and smiled. “Yeah Jor, sounds good. Let me just go change out of this bullshit,” you gestured at your ensemble, “And I’ll be right back.” 

Jordan smiled and paused the movie. “Cool. Oh, hey.” She called after you as you headed towards your bedroom and you spun back around. “Some of your mail must’ve got mixed in with mine from yesterday. I sorted through it this morning and found some things addressed to you- like a phone bill and something else?  So I stuck them on your dresser.” No problem, that happens all the- “Who do you know in North Carolina? Someone you worked with or-”    

Her question was innocent even if there was a teasing lilt to the way that she asked it.  

“Logan.” His name left your lips in an immediate whisper. You sucked in a breath and felt your heartbeat pick up its pace. Is he alright? Is he...did he change his mind about..? Does he still have me down as… Why now? Eyes widening, you blinked at Jordan. 

“Logan? Logan Delos? He’s,” she stood from the couch, pretzel crumbs falling from her lap as she shook her head and said your name. “But he’s… isn’t he in re-“ 

“Yeah.” You nodded, eyes still wide as your tongue came out to wet your lips. Is the letter from him or is it… you swallowed the thick dread before it had a chance to lodge itself in your throat. Or is it about him? You released a breath and felt the room get smaller. 

Jordan’s eyebrows came together as she took a step towards you. “In North Carolina?” She ran one hand over the crown of her head and grabbed the disheveled bun on top. You moved back towards the couch and nodded again, mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

 “That’s-” her hands darted out as you sunk into the cushions as though she expected you to miss your mark. When you hadn’t needed her assistance, she smoothed them down over her sweatpants and drummed her palms over her thighs before sitting back down next to you.  “Unexpected, I guess?” You looked over at her and she continued, words rushing out all in one breath.. “I mean, that he’d choose somewhere so...far? I just thought someone like him would want to be… I mean, come on, Malibu’s probably got the-” 

You don’t know anyone like him, Jor. “It wouldn’t have worked for him if he stayed here. He knew that.” Your voice was thin enough to splinter, scratching at your throat. He knew he had to get away from… from everything. You tried to swallow but it only made it worse. Eyes scanning the contents of the coffee table, you grabbed the only beverage there- Jordan’s half empty wine glass- and downed the remains. 

“Damn,” she whispered as you pulled the glass from your lips with a cough, wiping your free hand over your mouth. “Okay.” She leaned forward to wrap her fingers around the glass and took it from you, setting it back on the table. “Hey,” you felt the weight of her hand on your back then, and you sighed, leaning into her shoulder. “Alright, c’mere.” She wrapped an arm around you then as silent tears pricked at your eyes. She was around for...a lot of it so she knows how this… But she doesn’t know everything. After a beat she ran her hand over your arm and pulled away slightly, just enough to look at you. “You knew he went to North Carolina? That wasn’t a guess?” She phrased it as a question but you knew that she knew the answer, which you supplied with a nod, bringing one hand up to swipe under your eyes. “He… told you?” 

You took a quick breath in and let it back out as you spoke. “Yeah, he…” You clamped your eyes shut as the memory of your last conversation with Logan flashed through your mind like wildfire. “He told me where he was going when we...” Fuck. “Jor, I never told you about…” 

“No,” she said quietly, your eyes opening to look up at her. “You never told me what happened… just that… that you weren’t seeing him anymore. But-” She sighed, shaking her head. But what? “But I knew it had to be… when I came home from Phoenix and saw how you looked?” She said your name and it carried all the concern and love you’d come to expect from your best friend. “I knew it wasn’t just a regular break up or… whatever you want to call it, I know that you two weren’t… just-” She blew out another breath before throwing her arms around you. You returned the embrace, not realizing how much you needed it. “Why don’t you go change, and I’ll get the letter and you can read it. Or we can talk or-” 

“Yeah.” You squeezed her once more before standing from the couch. “Okay, Jor. I’ll… I’ll be right back.” 

You suddenly forgot how exhausted you were, how all you wanted to do was fall into your bed and sleep. Sleep, when you could catch it it large chunks, was great for passing the time, but now your mind was running wild with all the time that had passed since the last time you saw him. He was so… You could still feel the plastic medical I.D. bracelet snapping beneath your fingers when you took it off for him. He was too weak to do it himself and you felt your soul breaking with that thin piece of plastic. Six months had come and gone since then, and though you’d spent more time thinking of him than you wanted to admit, you had no way of knowing how he’d spent that time. You had no clue what you would read in the letter that was sent to you. You’d had no contact with Logan since you left his apartment the day he’d told you that he was making a change. Though you knew where he was you hadn’t reached out. You were following his lead, like you had for most of the time that you’d known him. But now he’s reaching out to me... 

Your heart thumped as you peeled your work clothes off and rummaged through your drawers for a t-shirt and a pair of sweats. The second that your hand closed around the thick pair of navy sweats though, all that thumping came to a crashing halt. Without even looking at the pair you’d selected, you knew that they were the same pair that you’d put on when you’d gotten home from Logan’s that day. You sucked in a breath as you pulled them out, fingers flexing and bunching in the material, and before you could stop it, the memory of that night and the few that followed flashed violent and vivid behind your eyes. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

You watched the walls lighten, the shadows in your room growing and shrinking as they moved with the passing of time from night to morning. Your swollen eyes stung at the corners where salty tears still gathered, but you were too spent to sob anymore. Instead, they trickled involuntarily down your cheeks as your chest rose and fell almost robotically. Your whole body ached with each breath, ribs sore and limbs feeling heavy. Exhaustion was an understatement. You’d never gone through anything like you had in the last 48 hours. But you refused to shut your eyes, refused to give over to the sleep that you so desperately needed. If I close my eyes it’s really… he’s really… 

A strained whimper pushed through your tight, raw throat as the rising sun pushed through the cracks in your closed blinds, bathing the room in a muted yellow glow. It was going to be morning whether or not you wanted the dawn to come. I don’t. Falling asleep felt like resignation, and though you knew it was for the best, knew it was the only way he’d survive, you couldn’t help the way it felt knowing that you might never see him again. Might never touch him or wrap your arms around him, might never kiss his lips or his neck or his back, might never feel his warm breath on your skin or his laughter vibrating in his chest. I might never get to tell him that I… If you fought hard enough, kept your eyes open long enough, maybe never would never come. 

Aside from attempting to delay reality, you were also worried that when you finally did collapse into sleep you would be haunted by the what if’s that you held at bay by staring at your walls. What if I’d gotten there sooner? What if I missed that call? What if I hadn’t been carrying that dose of Narcan? You shivered, recalling the moment that you watched his breastbone sink and realized it wasn’t going to rise again unless you acted fast. What if I wasn’t fast enough? 

You had been though, and for the second time in too few weeks, the emergency room doctors had told you that you’d saved his life. Looking at him lying in the hospital, so frail and unlike the man you’d jumped into that pool with all those months ago, it was hard to believe that you’d saved him at all. That’s not him. 

But his heart was still beating and he was still breathing and it was only because you’d acted as quickly as you did. You were beyond relieved when they’d told you that he was expected to make a full recovery, despite how far from possible that seemed. That relief did nothing though, to lessen the weight of knowing that if you were even two minutes too late either time, he simply wouldn’t be here at all. Logan… I wish… You were wrong when you thought you couldn’t sob anymore, a stray one forcing you to draw a razor sharp breath in before it came shuddering back out. I wish none of it ever… 

You could hear the sounds of the city waking up outside your window. Blinking, you realized that the light had changed again. The sun was over the horizon now and done with the warm glow of dawn. Instead, a thin, white light hung in the room, highlighting its emptiness. It was morning- probably close to 6am- and though you also heard the sounds of others stirring in your building, your own apartment was silent. You were alone, Jordan visiting her family in Phoenix for the long weekend, and the grayish, early light seemed intent on exposing that fact. I wish… 

With a heavy sigh, you slid your legs over the side of the bed and stood. You took three steps, one arm crossed tightly over your abdomen as you moved towards the window, that hand curled around your hip. The other came up to rake over the top of your head, pushing your disheveled hair back before reaching for the wand dangling from the window. With a small twist the room brightened further and your eyes narrowed. You kept twisting until the blinds flicked all the way shut, clicking together and darkening the room once more. I wish none of it ever happened to you, Logan. 

You wished he would have stayed in bed with you instead of peeling himself away from your body to leave for the park with William. You wished he would have canceled his flight and stayed tangled up in your limbs and the sheets, in your hair and your hands. You wished he would have woken up late to your breath on the skin of his throat and canceled the whole trip, spending the next 18 hours learning how it felt on other parts of his body instead of sitting on a jet with a man he couldn’t stomach. 

You wished that once he’d gotten back, you hadn’t been the only one to believe him. You wished he’d had just one other person’s support. You wished Juliet hadn’t abandoned him, wished that he had more than just you to lean on. He needs more. Everyone does. 

You wished he’d never stumbled so close to the abyss. Like the plastic strips you’d closed to shut out the daylight, your wishes piled up and clacked together in your mind. And like the blinds, they did nothing to shut out the truth.

But you never once, not even as you slumped back into your bed, leaning the base of your skull against the headboard, wished that you hadn’t met him. Eyes slipping closed, just to remember, not to sleep, you shuffled back to that first night with him. Your soaked dress clinging to your skin, the goosebumps his fingertips raised on your flesh as water dripped from his touch, the way he draped his jacket over your shoulders and dragged you closer. Everything that followed. You regretted none of it. You’d jump into that pool all over again, even knowing where it would lead you, because every second spent with him had been worth it. Every single one. 

You opened your eyes but even though they were trained and focused on the far wall, your bedroom swirled and blurred as you blinked, your lashes heavy and drenched in tears. The flat expanse between the door and your closet served as the perfect screen for your mind’s projections, and you helplessly let the most horrific scene of your life play out for what you already knew would be the first of far too many showings. 

It started with a phone call. Logan’s name popped up on the screen of your dashboard just as you got onto the freeway leaving your office. You knew that he had had a meeting with his father that morning, knew that it was primarily to discuss Logan’s return to work and the full resumption of his duties and responsibilities at Delos. Though you didn’t think that he was ready for it, you knew how much the company meant to him and so you silently hoped that he got the result that he was looking for instead of voicing your opinion that he should hold off, focus on finding stability. You sucked in a breath as you tapped the button on the screen to answer the call through the speakers. Please, let it have gone well. 

You swallowed as the call connected, skipping the question in your tone. “Hi, Logan.” You could hear stillness on the other end of the line, much too quiet for him to be calling from the Delos offices. Shit. “You o-” You shook your head, fingers tightening around your steering wheel. You know he’s not okay, don’t ask that. “Are you home?” 

He didn’t answer right away, at least not verbally- his breathing, heavy and labored with the feeling of defeat would have given him away to anyone, even if they hadn’t known him as well as you had. You pressed your foot harder into the gas pedal, switching lanes to maneuver around traffic as he responded. “Yeah…’m at my place.” 

Your heart thudded hard and painfully at the slight slur in his words. Oh, Logan… no, no, no. Another driver honked as you changed lanes again, speeding around and between other cars to get to Logan’s exit sooner but the sound hardly registered. “I’m about ten minutes out but I’m on my way.” You said it as though that fact were enough to make any kind of difference, but you knew that it wasn’t enough. It made no difference. “Did you...do you want to...did-” 

You sputtered from question to question, not sure which was the right to ask. It had turned out not mattering, Logan speaking over your last few words. “He’s givin’ it all to him. Delos. My company ‘an he’s gettin’ it ‘an...and Jules is-” He sounded as though each word was heavy and sharp on his tongue, hurting him on the way out of his mouth. A tear rolled down your cheek. Because it does hurt. This is killing him. 

“Logan, I-” 

“Jules isn’ answerin’ me anymore ‘an I… keep tryin’ but she’s not- she won’t ‘an I don’t… I can’t,” his voice broke apart then, collapsing into a ragged sob, and for a brain-numbing moment one thought filled your mind- don’t let “I can’t” be the last thing you hear him say.

“We can try to give her a call when I get there, Logan, okay? We’ll call her, I’m on my way, almost there.” Glancing down at the time, you pleaded with everything you had that it wouldn’t be too long. “Seven minutes.” You were crying through your words now, vision blurry as you blinked furiously to clear your eyes enough to drive. How could she do this to him? He’s her brother, how… 

You swallowed as angry drivers laid on their horns to show their opinions of your driving, but still you hardly heard them, ears straining for the sounds of Logan’s breathing.“Logan?” Please. Please answer me. You waited three beats before saying his name again, this time a little louder as you leaned closer to the steering wheel, the sole of your shoe grinding against the pedal. “Logan?! Logan are you-” 

“‘M still here… still… ‘an you should… D’you say you were comin’ here?” You breathed a speedy yes into the phone but he didn’t hear. “Want you to- need to see you again. Before...” He trailed off leaving long seconds between each shaky intake of breath and each shallow exhale. 

“Yes, Logan, I’m...” you were desperate to keep him talking, keep him alert and responsive for as long as possible. But you also knew that every second mattered, and that every second you stayed on the phone with him instead of calling 911 was another second that help was not on the way. “I’m… of course I’m coming, I’m almost there, okay?” You swiped at your eyes, fully aware of the black streaks of makeup that you were painting on your cheeks. “F-few more minutes, Logan, okay?” 

You thought you heard him acknowledge what you said but you couldn’t be sure that what you had said even registered with him in the state he was in. Fuck. What the fuck do I do here? Between your racing heart, bleary eyes and panicked breaths, you were starting to feel dizzy. And scared. The cold, frigid fear that you felt the night of Juliet’s wedding, when you’d pulled Logan from his pool after he’d fallen in and hit his head, filled you again and you knew what you had to do.

 “Logan?” You were terrified to hang up the phone, terrified to sever the connection. But I have to. “Logan, listen to me, okay? I’m gonna have to hang up to call for some h-help.” Tears ran down your cheeks but you focused on speaking clearly through them. “Listen to me, please Logan. Please… please just hold on, okay? I’m coming. I'm…” Fuck. He hadn’t said anything in too long and you couldn’t keep talking to the static in the air, not with each second ticking against him. Please hold on, Logan… I love you. 

As soon as the thought materialized, your chest tightened and you pressed the button to end the call, fingers already moving on the screen to dial emergency services. You were only five minutes away now, just a few more turns and you’d be there, but you knew that getting him the medical attention that he needed as quickly as possible could mean all the difference. 

You answered all of the dispatcher’s questions as best as you could. Since you weren’t there with Logan, you couldn’t confirm what he’d taken, but you told them exactly how many weeks it had been since his last overdose, that one a combination of opiates and benzodiazepines. Still driving and responding to the professionally calm man as he let you know that help was on the way, you took the wheel with your left hand, the right reaching over into the passenger seat for your purse. Pulling it into your lap, you looked down briefly to yank the zipper open before flicking your eyes back up to the road just in time to slam your brakes, narrowly avoiding sinking the hood of your car beneath the bottom of the trailer in front of you. Shit that was… Please. Shoving your right hand into your bag, you felt the small container that you’d started keeping in there since the morning after waking up in Logan’s hospital bed with him. Relief washed over you as your fingers closed around it and you pulled it out. 

Your relief seemed to pass through the phone to the man on the other line as you informed him that you had a dose of Narcan to give Logan if necessary as soon as you got to him. He told you that that was good, that it would certainly help if things had gone that far, that he’d stay on the phone with you until EMS arrived, talking you through what to do. You hadn’t told Logan that you’d gone to the pharmacy and requested a dose of the life saving medication to have on hand just in case, because you had hoped, foolishly, that the night you dragged him out of the shallow water and into your lap, his back against your chest and his head rolling back onto your shoulder, would be the last time that you ever saw him like that. You didn’t want to mention the emergency reversal drug you had stashed in the secret zippered pouch of your purse. You didn’t want to mention that it would only do him any good if you were with him when he needed it. The pharmacist hadn’t asked any questions as you handed over the request form that you’d printed out earlier that day, the woman handing you your purchase in a brown paper bag with a small nod, her eyes warm and sympathetic, and so you’d treated the small device with the same amount of discretion in its place in your bag. 

No amount of reading up on it could prepare you for what it would be like to actually give someone the drug, though. Let alone someone you cared for as fiercely and fully as you cared for Logan. Nothing, not even seeing him in that state before, could prepare you for the absolute horror of falling to his side and realizing that his chest had stopped moving. It was like being outside of your body, seeing him so outside of his own, and though you could feel yourself moving and working and doing everything that the dispatcher still on the line with you was saying, it was as though someone else was pulling the strings to control your hands as they administered the medication, or your arms as they held him when it started to kick in, his long legs jerking as he took a sudden inhale. You had never felt anything like the adrenaline dump that occurred when you saw that he was coming back to the surface, your entire being buzzing and vibrating as the ambulance finally arrived, trained medical personnel taking over for you. 

Nothing had ever hit you as hard as the look in Logan’s eyes as they flicked to your face, lingering there and filling with tears, then closing as he was loaded into the back of the emergency vehicle. 

Somehow, the residual adrenaline still coursing through you was enough to get you back into your car to follow to the hospital. The next few hours lasted years and sped by in seconds, and there wasn’t much you remembered but beige walls and generic abstract artwork, a kind nurse bringing you a coffee that you were too jumpy to drink. You set it on the small table in the waiting area where you sat, watching the steam swirling above it until the liquid was too cold for any to form. He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive. You felt it with every beat of your heart as it finally began to slow. Still here. You inhaled, you exhaled, trying to get the ceiling to stop spinning. Logan… 

You’d left your phone in the cup holder of your car, so you had no way of knowing- other than by gauging the temperature of your untouched coffee- how long it was from the time you arrived until you were allowed into his room to see him, but when the kind nurse came back you nearly sprang from your seat, body humming with anxious energy once more. The woman had told you that he was sleeping, and you were glad. He needs it. You thanked her and she left you at the door to his room, your hand shaking as it reached for the silver handle. 

Despite having seen him in this very same hospital only weeks prior, and at the medical facility at The Mesa, the sight of him laying in the darkened room pierced your heart like a knife, a terrible tearing feeling opening up in your chest as the air slipped from your lungs. Look at him… he’s… You swallowed, turning slowly to close the door behind you before you faced him again. He looked small, a word you’d never have associated with him before, and it hurt to see him this way. He’s barely hanging on… that’s not him.    

You crossed the room to sit by his side, dragging the chair that was against the wall closer to the bed and sinking into it. “Hi, Logan.” Your whispered words were brimming with tears as you extended a hand to brush the hair away from his brow. His skin was warm when you touched him, not clammy and cool like it was when you’d first gotten to his apartment, and though it was a small measure of consolation, it was enough for now. “I’m here,” you told him as you raked two fingers through his hair. “You have me.” Turning your hand you ran the backs of your knuckles down his cheek and over the slightly overgrown beard that covered the bottom of his face, then let it fall to his arm. “You’ll always have me.”   

Your fingers curled into the crook of his elbow then, encircling nearly all of his thin arm. Oh. Oh, Logan. It was a shock to you, even though you had noticed that he was losing weight again; you felt it each time you wrapped your arms around him, felt him shrinking. Brushing the pad of your thumb over the fresh marks that marred his pale skin, you heard the words you’d said to him just days before play back in your head. 

This isn’t all that you are, Logan.

Lowering your lips to the bend in his arm, you pressed a kiss there just as you had the other day, when you thought that some of his track marks were disappearing. They were. He hadn’t… They were healing. He was…

 No matter what they looked like days ago, the marks that dotted the fair skin of his forearm were an angry reddish purple now. Your tears fell into the valley of his elbow as you straightened up again. He continued to slip in and out of sleep for the next several hours, only waking for brief moments in which he’d mumble or moan, but neither your tears nor your trembling lips were enough to pull him out of it completely. His eyes remained closed and yours remained on his chest, watching its rising and falling in slow rhythm with the chorus of soft beeps from the machines monitoring him. This isn’t… this can’t be all there is for you, Logan. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

By the time you made it back out to your living room, Jordan had refilled her wine glass and poured a second one for you. She sat cross-legged on the couch in the same spot she’d been in when you came home. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the long, narrow envelope in her lap, widening as they landed on your name in his handwriting. Sucking in a breath, you brought one hand up to your chest, fingers curling in the neckline and tugging absently. Oh this is going to be… You felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes, stinging sharply before they filled and flowed. This isn’t going to be easy, Logan… 

“Hey,” Jordan tilted her head and patted the cushion next to her. “C’mon, it’s… whatever it says in here?” She lifted the envelope as you slowly sunk down. “It’s gonna be-” she sighed. “Look, it’s gonna be alright, okay? Just… read it. You need to read it.” I do. “And I’ll be right here, and we can talk about it or we don’t have to but,” she handed you the piece of mail and you took it between your thumb and fingers, testing the weight. “But you need this. Whatever it says in here?” She placed her hand on your shoulder. “You need it.” 

Nodding, you swallowed the thick feeling that was tightening your throat. “Yeah… thanks Jor.” She’s right. Taking a deep breath, you leaned forward and picked up your wine glass. “Okay, Logan,” you closed your eyes and took a sip before setting the glass back down and releasing a long breath. “Let’s see what you…” You trailed off as you lifted the envelope flap, pulling it open and removing the folded paper inside, the feeling of his words pressed into the page beneath your fingertips stinging your eyes again. Shit I don’t know if I can… 

But you did. 

It had taken you almost twenty five minutes to read through his letter, despite the fact that it was just one page. You kept needing to pause to let a word or phrase sink in, or to catch your breath or wipe your eyes. By the end of it you were sobbing softly to yourself while Jordan looked on, ready to be there for you in any way that she could. There was nothing she could do except offer her shoulder and her ear, and she gave both, letting you lean against her while she soothingly stroked your hair, letting you pour out all of the things that you felt, even the things that you couldn’t put into words, the things that came out solely as broken cries and shattered whines. Jordan had never met Logan, and she didn’t know everything about the relationship that you had with him, but she knew enough to know how strongly you felt about him. She knew I loved him. She… now she knows he loves me… 

He’d said it. 

Not in those words, not blatantly or clearly. But the way that he talked about why he’d waited so long to reach out to you even after thinking about you nearly every day for the last six months, about how he’d wanted to be sure that he would make it through his program before he got his or your hopes up… the way that he thanked you, not for saving him in the very literal ways that you did, but in the deeper, more invisible ways that he’d carry with him on the rest of his journey… 

The way that he'd apologized for ever hurting you, for not getting help sooner, for not being able to be there with you… the way that you could hear the sadness in his tone when you read the words at the end of the letter. 

 You said I’d always have you. I know that’s true now. I’ll always have you… maybe someday you can have me. Not yet, but maybe someday soon.   

He loved you. And it was because he loved you that the letter didn’t end with a request to meet again or a promise of an end to all this separation. He still had things he was trying to fix, to rebuild and make stronger, and the fact that he didn’t want you anywhere near the construction site until it was stable and safe said it louder and more clearly than three words ever could. It was closure, in a sense, because you knew that he was healthy, that he’d done what he’d set out to do and gotten himself off of the drugs and away from the toxicity that would absolutely have killed him otherwise. You knew that everything you’d felt for him hadn’t been for nothing, that he’d felt it too and that it had helped him through one of the hardest times of his life. 

But it was bittersweet, because while you understood that he still needed time, that he couldn’t just dive back into the deep end of things, you also understood that life didn’t stop for either of you. If I don’t fit in his life anymore… You couldn’t expect him to make room for you in it. If we see each other again… if he’s ever ready to… then maybe… 

Maybe. Someday. Soon. In your head they sounded a lot like unlikely, impossible and never, but in your heart they felt like very thin, very dangerously spun strands of hope. 

Maybe someday soon, Logan… 

You sent the wish silently through the air, hoping it would float out your window and catch a Pacific breeze to be carried to wherever he slept tonight. 

You have me, Logan. Always.

.

.

.

Thank you as always for reading! I am very much looking forward to moving this story into it’s second phase: Reprogram.  If you would like to be added to or removed from this or any of my tag lists, please feel free to let me know! 

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[just-jordie-things]

Wisdom Teeth (part two) - Richie Tozier

word count: 2930 warnings: swearing summary: Richie doesn’t remember all that much of what happened after his operation... but he does have a hazy memory of a kiss and it’s driving him mad. ___

When he came to, Richie wondered for a minute where the hell he was.  Because he definitely was not on his bed at home.

It only took a few seconds for his brain to wake up for him to realize he was at (y/n’s) house, sprawled out on her living room couch.  The thought brought a smile to his sore mouth, and he rolled onto his side, pulling the covers back over himself as he got comfortable to go back to sleep.

But as he switched positions, he caught sight of her.

She was passed out, and it must have been unintentional, because there was no way she would have willingly slept in the living room chair. Her body was balled up and her limbs were sticking out at weird angles, in ways that he knew were going to hurt when she woke up.

But she looked so precious when she was sleeping, and he hoped that he hadn’t worn her out too much.

He vaguely remembered the events of the day before.

Getting into her car with a lot of struggling, eating jello, a kiss, watching movies-

Richie shot up from the couch, and it was at that moment he figured he probably wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep.

A kiss!?

Had they kissed? Had she really kissed him?

He grabbed his glasses from the coffee table and rubs his eyes roughly before putting them on.

The memory was fuzzy, and he wasn’t sure if it really happened, or if he’d just dreamed about it.  Fuck he really hoped it was real, he really wanted it to be real.

(y/n) sat up straighter, all sorts of popping sounds coming from her as a result as she stretched and groaned.

“Jesus Christ,” She muttered, hands on her back as she tried to get the last of the cracks out.  “What time is it?” She asked Richie, who had just been sitting on the sofa, staring at her.

“Um- did I wake you up?” He asked, but she shook her head.

“No, I don’t think so,” She answered, rubbing her eyes before turning around to look at the clock on the wall.  “Oh my god it’s already noon, I hope you weren’t waiting up because of me” She said, getting up and stretching even more.

“No- no of course not, I just woke up” He assured.

He watched while she fixed up the cushion and the blanket on the chair to make it look better.

He watched her like he needed to study and memorize each of her movements.  And she wasn’t blind, she noticed how weird he was being.

“You alright?” She asked, picking up her pillow.

She’d managed to bring her pillow and blanket from her room to be comfortable watching movies last night, but didn’t manage to go back to her own bed when she started to grow tired.

“Um, yeah, yeah I’m… fine” Richie mumbled back.  He covered his awkward answer with a yawn and a stretch.

“And how are the holes in your mouth?” She asked, only kind of teasing.

“It’s not that bad, just dull pain,” He shrugged.  “I once almost got eaten by a demon clown, so..”

(y/n) laughed, holding her pillow close to her chest.

“I’m gonna take a shower, and then I’ll make breakfast?” She offered.

“What are you gonna make that I can eat?” He asked.

“Breakfast… smoothies?” She tried.

“Babe, please don’t ruin a bunch of good and decent regular food by blending it-”

“I was going to use fruit, dummy,” She retorted.  Richie shrugged, and nodded his head approval.  “I’m gonna shower now”

She left the room, heading off with her pillow and blanket, and still, Richie’s eyes were trained on her.

He could just ask about the kiss, but the idea of asking her that sort of thing made the hairs on his arms stand up and a chill of anxiety go down his spine.  What if it was just a dream and she thought he was lame?

Or worse.

What if it did happen, but only because she felt so bad for him, what if it was a pity kiss?

Richie scrambled up from the couch and practically dove for the telephone.

He dialed one of the only numbers he knew by heart, but only because he used to call it every day in the second grade.

“H-hello, this is-is B-Bill-”

“Yeah I know its fuckin’ you Bill you have a pretty telling voice”

“R-Richie?” Bill spoke, confusedly, through the line.  “H-how’d the sur-surgery g-go-?”

“It went fine, move on Bill, there’s bigger problems,” Richie cut him off again.  He didn’t have the patience to go through the pleasantries with him right now.  “I think (y/n) and I kissed”

“Y-you think?” Bill repeated, obviously confused by the statement.  “You d-don’t r-remember?”

“I was practically high!” Richie declared, whisper-screaming into the phone.

Bill was silent on the other end, and Richie was left to imagine the bored ‘really?’ face he was making.

“Okay, not high, but seriously, I don’t remember anything before the anesthetics wore off.  Not well, anyways.  It’s kinda blurry”

“Richie, y-ou’ve s-somehow remembered all the n-nights you’ve g-gotten w-wasted.  I th-think you c-can re-remember if you k-kissed-”

“I can’t tell if it was a dream!” Richie cut him off again.

“Y-you’re d-dumb.  J-just ask-”

“I’m dumb? Bill, I can’t just ask her if I kissed her”

“O-okay, sh-shut the f-fuck up.  Y-you called m-me,” Bill snapped, tired of not getting to finish a thought.  “I-I thought you l-liked her?”

“I do” Richie mumbled defeatedly.

“W-well then w-why not j-just risk it a-and ask?” Bill suggested.  “M-maybe sh-she likes y-you back?”

“What if she doesn’t though? What if it wasn’t real and she-”

“I’m p-pretty s-sure she does,” Bill argued.  “She w-was the one to p-pick y-you up from the hos-hospital, a-and you t-two are r-really close,”

Richie didn’t say anything, pondering the idea that (y/n) could return his feelings.  He liked thinking about it, reading into the things she’d say, the way she’d call him sweet names without really thinking, and she did tend to touch his arm more than necessary.

“Do you r-really h-have to th-think about it all w-while we’re s-still on the ph-phone…?” Bill asked awkwardly.  “I k-kinda have h-homework t-to do…”

“Yeah fine, bye Big Bill” Richie muttered, and placed the phone back on it’s holder.

He sat back down on the couch, trying to think as hard as he could about what happened yesterday.

“Why the hell do you want to marry me? Because I bought you jello?”

Her voice rang in his head, and he was sure that she’d said that.  The confused face she’d made a vivid image in his head, too vivid to have not happened.

“You’re al’th’o very pretty”

He remembered saying that.  Richie cringed at the compliment now, realizing how cringey he’d been when he’d flirted with her.  Usually he was pretty smooth, or at least funny.  That comment was neither.

“So!” (y/n’s) voice rang out as she came back into the room.  “Strawberry banana, or mixed berry?”

Richie turned to look at her.  She’d changed into a fresh set of clothes, and her hair was still kind of damp.  She looked really pretty, and he’d been right to tell her so yesterday.

“Rich?” She snapped her fingers in front of her face.  “You in reality, babe?” She asks, and she starts to laugh when he blinks rapidly to focus.

“Yeah, sorry.  Whatever you want to make” He answers, and she’s already heading into the kitchen.

“Strawberry banana it is” She decides.

He followed her into the other room, sitting at the counter while she gathered the ingredients for their breakfast smoothies.

And he just can’t bring himself to tear his eyes off of her.  Especially her lips.  If he had kissed her, he knew that her lips had to have been as soft as he imagined.  Like kissing a marshmallow-

Richie cleared his throat, trying to disrupt his daydreaming and get back on the right track.  Remembering.

“You sure you’re okay today?” (y/n) asked, dumping ice and fruit into the blender.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He lied with ease, but she still doesn’t believe him.

Her eyes meet his, and she studies him for a minute, trying to figure out what he’s thinking.  But it’s hard, because even though she can read him pretty well, Richie Tozier’s a bit of a loose cannon.

“You’ve just been quiet,” She shrugs.  “And usually you don’t shut up” She adds playfully.

Richie rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything, so she starts up the blender.

He was still being weird, but she knew that he’d tell her what was going on in time.  Eventually he wouldn’t be able to hold it in, she knew, because it wasn’t the first time he’d let something bother him this much.

It was pretty easy to get on Richie’s nerves though, so (y/n) tried not to worry too much.  He probably just didn’t want to tell her how much his mouth really hurt.

They drank their smoothies in peace, and the quiet wasn’t too uncomfortable.  Richie relaxed as much as he could, and tried not to dwell too much on yesterday.  His memory would come back to him in a matter of time, he just had to wait.  And he figured spending the day with (y/n) would help trigger it.

They played games and watched movies, and she did what she could to keep his focus off of his mouth, as well as reminded him to take his pain medication.

It was nice to have a whole Sunday to themselves, just the two of them.  Richie wished that he’d had the guts to spend more alone time with her, but at least he had her all to himself now.

(y/n) liked having him over as well.  Even though he did whine about his jaw, and made more inappropriate jokes than usual.  He couldn’t help it.  However a part of her found it charming.

(Any of their friends would have made fun of her for thinking so.) ___

She drove him home that evening, since it was a school night and his parents were expecting him back.

It was a short drive, but the whole time his leg was bouncing anxiously in his seat.  To the point where it started to make (y/n) nervous as well.

It got to the point where she just couldn’t take it, and reached a hand over to place it on his knee, still his leg.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” She asked softly, glancing over to him quickly, before looking back at the road.  “Are you worried about going home?”

She was well aware that Richie didn’t always get along too well with his parents, and it had been odd that they weren’t the ones to help him out after the surgery.  She assumed his nerves were because he didn’t want to go home to them.

When he didn’t answer, she looked at him again.

“Richie?” She called, thinking maybe he’d zoned out.  He’d been doing it a lot today, and again, she’d wrongfully assumed it was the pain.

“Sorry,” He finally spoke up, and let out a long sigh.  “I can’t seem to focus today”

“That’s okay,” She said, about to retract her hand, but Richie grabbed it before she could.

She cast him one more glance at the odd action, her worry increasing, but she didn’t take her hand away.

“You don’t have to apologize,” She added, folding her hand into his.  “And hey, if you want to come over tomorrow after school, I’ll kick your ass some more at Space Invaders” She added, trying to keep her tone as chipper as she could so the mood would lighten.

There was still a heavy tension in the car though, and it was completely Richie’s fault.  

(y/n) wasn’t sure what was going on with him, but it was starting to make her shoulders droop and she wanted a hole to open up beneath her and swallow her whole so that she didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

When they arrived at his house, she walked him to the door, as she always did, because she was polite like that.

With a sigh, she gave him a perplexed look, a nervous smile plastered on her lips.

“You know if they’re weird or something you could come back over,” She said, rambling a bit from her own nerves.  “You’d have to sneak in, probably through my window, and honestly please try to wake me up first because I will think that you’re a murderer trying to break in-”

“Okay, (y/n), calm down, I’ll be fine,” Richie cut her off because she was really starting to derail.  “I don’t mind staying here tonight, it’s no big deal”

She bit down on her lip, and nodded her head.

“Alright then,” She said softly.  “G’night, I’ll see you in the morning”

She forced a bright smile, before turning and heading off of his doorstep.

Maybe she just needed to go home, take a bath, and call Beverly to talk this through in order to calm her mind-”

“(y/n) wait!” Richie called, after she was already halfway down the driveway.

She spun around, a look of shock on her face from his outburst, but he continued yelling before she could say anything.

“Did I kiss you yesterday?” He blurted out before he could chicken out.  “See I- I keep on replaying it in my head and I just can’t fucking tell if it actually-”

“No,” (y/n) answered abruptly, walking back towards him.

Almost instantly, Richie deflated.  His heart sank to his gut and he frowned.

“That’s not what happened,” She explained.  “You told me that you wanted to get married-”

“Oh god” Richie muttered, hanging his head.

“-and then you told me that you were gonna get me to fall in love with you,” (y/n) continued to recall yesterday’s events as she walked back up to him.  “And then you admitted that you’d liked me since the second grade- very incoherently by the way-”

“Oh my fucking god,” Richie leaned his head back, staring up at the skies.  “If you’re up there, please, kill me now”

(y/n) giggled at his antics, and stopped just in front of him.

“And then I kissed you,” She corrected, softly.  “Is that what you’ve been all anxious about today?” She asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

Just like that, all the nerves that he’d passed off to her, disappeared.  She crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side.

Richie covered his face with his hands in embarrassment.

“Why are you so bothered? Did you not… mean it-?”

“No! I- of course I meant it!” He said quickly, and (y/n) nearly jumped at how quickly he’d declared so.  “I just- I feel bad that I… I didn’t remember”

A small smile quirked up on her lips, and she stepped forward, leaning up on the tips of her toes and pressing a light kiss against his cheek.

He dragged his hands away as she did so, revealing a pink blush on his face.

“You were all drugged up Richie, don’t feel bad,” She said sweetly.  “Had I known you’d been overthinking about that, I would have talked to you about it, or something.  I just figured it didn’t need to be talked about”

“Well I- I wasn’t sure and I didn’t want to uh… you know, ruin anything”

(y/n) grinned, a wide, cheeky grin.

She pulled his hands away from his face completely, and tugged on them just a little bit to pull him closer.

“Ruin?” She repeated, tilting her head to meet his downcasted eyes.  “Richie, you wanted to marry me yesterday, like, more than I’ve ever seen you want anything,” She explained, her wicked grin turning into a sweet smile.  “And I don’t- I don’t think that really ruins anything in my opinion,”

Bashfully, he looks at her, trying to hide his own smile.

“I didn’t think I’d get you all nervous though, Trashmouth” She teased.

“Jesus christ, fuck you,” He said, his tone too sweet for the words.

His hands pulled out of hers, only to grab onto her waist with one, and tuck the other behind her head, pulling her in close so he could lean down and slant his lips against hers.

He’d been right, her lips were soft like marshmallows.  And sweet like them too.

She pulled away after a moment, and she giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“I’ll take you to that church now, if you’d like” She teased.

“You’re gonna make fun of me a lot, aren’t you?” He grumbled, gazing down at her affectionately.

“Oh, definitely.  I think it’s only fair, seeing as I dragged your ass all over the place yesterday.  Because you claimed you couldn’t walk”

“Nah, I just wanted your hands all over me,” Richie teased, leaning down to steal another quick kiss.  “I better get inside”

She bit down on her lip to keep herself from grinning like a lovesick fool, and nodded her head, dropping her hands from around his neck.

“Alright,” She said softly.  “I’ll see you later then, Rich”

He winked back at her as he opened the door.

“See you tomorrow, wifey” He retorted, and went inside before she could tell him for the millionth time they weren’t getting married.

But as she was driving home, she thought what the hell? Maybe he’s right. ___

taglist: @thegr8kush​ @lemonypink​  @darling-egg​

xoxo ~ jordie

[fallout-drabbles-n-stuff]

“There is no me without a you.” (Paladin Danse x Reader)

(Au! Where Danse doesn’t read rivet city and the reader is a friend of his and Cutler’s. Also I guess the reader technically isn’t sole..so enjoy! It’s an idea I had brewing for a long time.)

The thought made your stomach turn. That was putting it lightly.

For years it had been just you, Cutler, and his weirdo buddy- Danse. You were family, the only one you’ve known or at least cared to consider as such. So many nights had passed where your friends laughter was the only thing that kept you willing to face the next day, both of their grins forever imprinted in your mind and usually serving as the only things you could trust in the life you led.

It was rough. You had came to the shelter of Rivet City seeking to make a fortune as a merchant, having left home and everything you once knew to do so. The first couple of weeks hadn’t been easy, you had barely even gotten by but..then, by some miracle, some flame-haired man with a seemingly permanent smug grin came strolling up to your stand, a tall- handsome fella with dark hair close behind him. That fucker that interrupted your business introduced himself and his bashful friend, Cutler and Danse were their names...and of course, you started the beautiful relationship off by asking them just where the hell they came up with such “crap-tastic” names. Indeed, it was the start of a beautiful friendship.

It was the recollection of memories such as these that made tears blur your vision, each step you took forward feeling more labored than the one before. Days ago those same goofy men you met all those years ago, the ones you’ve grown to love so much, had said they were going off to join some crazy ass organization in the capital- begging you to come along as well.

As much as you adored your friends, neither of them were all that bright. At least not if they couldn’t see just how dangerous this thing they wanted to run off and join was. You had an uncanny gift of being able to see when something was a catastrophically bad idea, and this was certainly one of them.

Shaking your head, you did the best you could to blink away the built up tears- having realized that you were at your desired location.

Danse’s rickety shack.

The poor man really needed to brush up on his building skills.

At least that made you laugh, even if it was choked up and sounded more pitiful than anything. Regardless, you carefully knocked on the door- unaware of where to begin. All you knew was that your time was limited to figure it out, the much expected rattling of metal being able to be heard from the other side within seconds, signaling that Danse was both indeed home and also on his way to answer the door.

Fuck.

Much too soon, the door opened up and revealed the man you once ridiculed for his unfortunate name. His stoic, yet lovely amber eyes softening as soon as they fixated upon your familiar form. Damn, he was such a sight to behold. Even wearing a red flannel with the sleeves rolled up and some ripped jeans, he was undeniably attractive. The acknowledgment of this fact made your heart skip a beat, your breath hitching in your throat as your eyes met his own.

Over the years you’ve known him, danse and yourself had became close- very close. You grew as people together, spent a couple nights out alone while Cutler reaped the spoils of being able to trick some person from the bar into bed with him, and even danced around the line of becoming a little more than friends every once in a while.

“(Y/n)..? What’s going on? Is something amiss? Nevermind that, please, come inside.” That deep, raspy voice tore you away from the invasive thoughts you were so deeply enthralled with. With a graceful like motion, the bulky man stepped to the side and allowed you to enter the his humble little home.

Of course you obliged, your knees growing week as you bumbled to his beaten up couch- sinking down into it’s plush as soon as you sat. However you weren’t alone long, Danse quickly following you, having no problem with sitting right beside you.

Funny, years ago when you first met, he barely seemed to be able to talk without Cutler doing the legwork of the conversation.

Now here he was, his arm resting on the back of the couch right behind your hunched over body. Practically beckoning you to just say “screw it” and cuddle right up into his side, hell, the man practically radiated warmth so there was very little holding you back at the moment. There were more important things to tend to now...

Steadying yourself, you tried your very best to put on a strong face. Straightening your back and giving him the “serious” look, or as Cutler called it, your “bitch face.” Whatever the look would be called, you just hoped he couldn’t see right through you. Because as it stood now, anxiety courses through your veins like a terrible icy brook- threatening to steal your spirit itself and make you retreat and forgo this plan of your’s.

For just a moment, it almost won. Your gaze shifted over to Danse’s coffee table, taking notice of the disassembled pistol that laid upon the horribly scratched wooden surface. Heh, he might’ve been a terrible architect but Danse sure as hell could modify guns. It was cute really, how invested he’d become in something so complex. Sometimes you’d come over in need of a friend and he’d keep you company by explaining how to modify a 10mm pistol’s barrel, all while doing so.

Your eyes fell close now, a hollowness in your chest. It was time. It was now or never. Later wouldn’t exist, especially since you refused to run off and join the brotherhood.

“D..danse..?” Your voice stammered out in a way that you despised, sounding so scared..like you truly were. That in its self was enough to make the relaxed look on danse’s face morph into one of concern, his weight shifting as he leaned more towards you.

Did he feel it too? Did he also want to embrace you as badly as you wanted to embrace him?

After a moment of waiting, he audibly gulped. Your obvious distress filled the poor man with worry, he..he didn’t like seeing you feel this way. “Yes?” Now even his own voice was demure as it urged you to continue.

The muscles in your legs clenched in response, adrenaline beginning to run its course.

Why was this so hard? All you had to do wa-

“I can’t stand it Danse.” Real Nice. Real good start. God you hated yourself already. “You two..you two asshats want to go play soldier and I can’t stand it..” oh yeah, only getting better, but the words just wouldn’t stop coming..and the affects of them wouldn’t heel either. “You-you’re Just going to leave me..and I..I get it because you want to find purpose b-but..”

Now you truly felt foolish, your face contorted and the anguish you felt deep inside made itself blatantly apparent by your expression. As though that wasn’t enough, those tears you thought were gone away came back with a vengeance. The longer you looked at the now confused man, the more your chest hurt and the more obvious the feeling a hot tears rolling down your cheeks became.

Everything just hit you all at once and it wasn’t fair. How could they just decide to leave what you all had together? Was it not good enough? Was it not what their purpose was? Better yet, how could he leave you like this? How was it right for him to swoop in one day, make you feel something and fall for the bastard, only to one day down the road decide that no, this isn’t what he wants? How was any of this fair?

“I..I um, I didn’t realize how much this affected you..” Danse’s shaky voice replied, his hands cautiously reaching out to pull you towards him. Countless times before when he felt emotional distress, you had grabbed him, embraced him without second thought and each time you did it, it crazily enough brought some degree of comfort to him. “I apologize but I’m not the-..oh (y/n)..” His chest heart seeing you cry.

In a way, as it stands now, you’re not the only one in need of a hug anyways- so as he pulled you close to him, the relief was felt on both ends.

For you, he’d try anything to help ease the sorrow you felt. However it was no secret Danse was absolutely terrible at these kinds of things, any extreme display of emotion generally made him uncomfortable..but seeing you like this? It made him feel a deep, sorrowful pain in his chest. Why? He didn’t entirely know the answer, at least not a straightforward and simple answer at that. You somehow always managed to elicit such passionate emotions in him, ones that he hardly understood- after all he was not by any means an overly emotional man.

As sobs wracked your body, he couldn’t help but feel the compulsion to shed a tear as well in response to your pain. A pain that he knew that ultimately, he caused. That hurt. That hurt really bad. Before he could even process what it exactly was he felt, a single tear slid down his cheek as well, his arms tightening and squeezing you the slightest bit in search for the comfort your embrace usually brought.

Time slowed down in an almost ethereal manner suddenly, all that pain you felt facing reality slowly began to subdue to a throbbing ache in your chest- sobs transforming to soft sniffles and a vivid embrasser blush as you hid your face in his form chest- his scent providing a minimal amount of comfort despite reminding you of how much of an idiot you probably seemed like.

Now there really wasn’t anything to say...except what you came to say anyways. Well..it was somewhat of a sad win/win situation. If you confess to your more than platonic feelings for the brooding man, he could either return the feeling and maybe, just maybe you could convince him to stay....or he doesn’t and then at least you won’t have to live with the shame of ruining your friendship for long seeing as he’d be leaving with Cutler soon.

Feeling as though your whole world was on the brink of shattering right before your eyes, you withdrew from the man- not daring to go back enough to break away from the comfort of his arms around you, instead only enough so that you could get a proper look at his dumbfounded- almost heartbroken looking face.

“Please..Danse, don’t..don’t leave me. I can’t take it. You- you mean the world to me..” your voice was barely over a whisper but you knew he heard you loud and clear, his eyebrows scrunching into a slanted, concerned look as guilt flashed in those beautiful puppy dog like eyes.

He cleared his throat, carefully contemplating his next words as he licked his lips- his eyes unconsciously gazing down to look at your own as he did so. “I’m sorry (y/n), I..I didn’t think I’d hurt you so badly..I should’ve been more considering..” for a second he paused, the next words sounding painful to even utter. “Especially considering how close of...friends..we are.”

That’s it. That’s fucking it.

Without better sense, you leaned forward right after his words- knowing words would get you nowhere with him. Actions. Actions worked. As such, you willed yourself not to scream as you finally connected your lips with his own- the very thing you’ve wanted to do since he first lowered his walls and let you get to know him all those years ago.

A muffled groan of surprise could be heard but you didn’t care, he wasn’t trying to push you off yet..so that was good. In fact, unbeknownst to yourself, Danse’s eyes fluttered closed as soon as the shock of the situation subsided and suddenly he found himself pressing back and trying his very best to let you know he returned the affection before it was too late.

Damn, he’s wanted to do that since he first laid eyes on you at your stand. How crazy..

As the kiss deepened, Danse could feel his heart pounding in his chest, all the feelings hitting him like a charging raider in power armour. Regardless of how confused he was, he couldn’t help but follow his instincts- which landed him laying back on his raggedy old couch with you laid lazily on top of his body, his legs on either side of your hips. For it being an entirely innocent moment, it surely was a provocative position and had he been in his right mind- he likely would’ve flipped out and had a heart attack.

Eventually you had to end the fantastical moment, the need to breath becoming too great to deny any longer. So, with a viciously bright red blush and pure terror in your eyes despite your watery grin, you gazed down upon him.

“A..actually, that’s what I wanted to..to um talk to you about.” It was about now, as you panted, you realized just how you were sitting. “Danse, I want to be something more than just your..your friend.”

The very second he processed what you said, his thick eyebrows practically ascended half his forehead, his jaw dropped and his eyes became the size of saucers.

Boy, his expressions never ceased to amuse you. Even now when shame should’ve been consuming you, he made you giggle.

“Are you...are you saying that you’re in love with me?” He asked in pure disbelief, his hands courageously settling upon your hips to rest despite his sudden urge to fidget and twitch his fingers. Nerves making his stomach tighten painfully even though you just plainly made your intentions clear.

“Yes Danse, I’m in love with you..you fucker, I wouldn’t act so crazy if I wasn’t..”

Once again, words usually didn’t suffice with Danse..so, you leaned in for another kiss. This time he was prepared and he sure as hell wasnt going to disappoint.

He loves you too, you truly are crazy if you think he’ll ever leave you now.

Who knows, maybe one day you and Danse will get to live the happily ever after. Run a decent stand, Get hitched, maybe even have a couple babies way down the road and be the parents you both wished you could’ve had. Cutler, that bastard, was just going to have to stay too if he liked it or not.

Besides...what fun would it be to be whatever the hell a Brotherhood of Steel soldier is? Pfft, what even is a Paladin?

[ellaenchanting]

Request Fic for @ragezdasta

Prompt:” Normal hypnotherapy uncovers a person's dark hypnokinky past that was previously erased via intense memory play. “

Warning: This is not how any of this actually  works. 

Mistress owns my body. Mistress owns my soul. I am broken for mistress. Mistress owns my body. Mistress owns my soul. I am broken for mistress.

The voice droned on and on.

Clara was beginning to panic. She looked over at her couch and her frenzied client. Marianne's eyes were open, staring vacantly at nothing. Her voice was pitched high and frantic, like she was pleading with someone or engaging in some ecstatic ritual. Her breathing was high and fast. Her body was frozen as though in terror- except for one hand that slowly and absently rubbed at her cunt.  

Clara pulled her limp hand away.

It lingered in the air for a moment before resuming its’ teasing.

It was though she couldn't even feel it, Clara thought.

For the first time in her hypnotherapy career, Clara had no idea what to do.

After last week's disastrous meeting, she wasn't surprised when Marianne had called to schedule an emergency session a few days later. During her first few sessions, Marianne and Clara had decided to try a memory regression to help discover the cause of Marianne's sexual reluctance with her fiance.  But last week, when the regression had actually happened and Clara began to question her, Marianne had stiffened like a frightened animal. A look of shock had come over her face and she began reciting the same statements about being owned and broken, over and over. Her voice was both detached sounding and determined. It reminded Clara of watching possession movies.

Clara had tried to question Marianne further. She had even taken great pains to reassure her that she was safe and that it was OK to remember. But, despite everything, Marianne would only stare, recite, and touch. All Clara could do was talk her through an old trauma amnesia procedure- showing her how to box up this side of herself for the time being. She had been incredibly relieved when Marianne had come back to her regular self by the end of their session. At least, Clara thought,  that would give her another week to think about what to do next.

Clara didn't get her week. Marianne might not have remembered what happened during her regression- Clara had been careful to help her repress THAT information- but apparently Marianne had been suffering from ill effects anyway. She had told Clara that she hadn't been able to work, she hadn't been able to spend time with her fiance, she hadn't even been able to THINK properly since their last session. She found herself awaking from stupors only to realize with dread that hours had passed. Sometimes Marianne "woke up" wearing different clothes or in places that she didn't recognize. The only thing that Marianne could blame was her hypnotherapy appointment. She called and demanded that Clara see and fix her immediately- and threatened to sue her for malpractice if she didn't.

Clara desperately contacted all of her mentors before the session began to get help brainstorming how to help with Marianne's memory block. No one had seen anything like it before. Clara had taken notes on their ideas and tried all of their suggestions anyway . She even tried the "boxing up" trick that had helped last week.

No luck.

Clara looked at the masturbating woman across the room. If anything, Marianne had seemed to retreat deeper and deeper into herself over time, becoming more and more lost.

She began to have a sinking suspicion.

The mantras Marianne recited sang out to Clara. They were familiar, like the lyrics to a forgotten childhood song.  A few times, she even had a vivid flash of herself, lying in a similar position and brokenly reciting the same words of devotion. It was worrying- like feeling a new ache in a tooth that had long since gone dead.

It wasn't Clara who had broken Marianne. But she recognized the work of the one who had.

She decided to call Desiree. Her first mentor.

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

Fortunately, Desiree picked up on the first ring.

"Clara, dear, how are you? How's your practice? I've been sending you referrals, you know!"

Desiree's voice was cheery and kind. Clara reluctantly noted that it still pulled on her attention, giving her little sparks of happiness that felt particularly unwelcome in her current circumstances. She respected Desiree's skill immensely but she knew she could never trust her. Not after what had happened between them.

She wasn't going to get pulled into Desiree's chit chat. "Do you know a Marianne Thomas?" Clara replied, accusingly. 

Desiree seemed puzzled. "I don't recall that name. Did she mention knowing me? Clara, dear, you sound so strange! What's wrong?"

Clara sighed. Took a picture of her masturbating patient. Hit send. Waited.

There was a long pause from the other side of the line. "Oh," Desiree finally replied, hesitantly. "I forgot that she was Marianne now."

Clara let the silence play out. She was too pissed off to speak.

When Desiree continued, her voice was regretful. "Laura- or I guess Marianne now- was my first. Twenty years ago. She was like you were when you were younger- she came to me saying that she had no limits and wanted to be completely broken. Completely brainwashed. There were...I didn't know exactly what I was doing at the time. There was no one to ask, no idea that that could be done safely. We didn't WANT it to be done safely. And we were both consenting adults.”

“I was curious about what I could do to her- what the limits were. I read up on cults, on psychological torture. I had all sorts of plans. I would keep her up all night, feed her very little, make her listen to my voice in her sleep. I knew she was becoming REALLY mine when she would only focus on her brainwashing. She started to punish herself for disobedience without prompting- and she'd reward herself the more mindless and obedient she became. That was really hot. I didn't want it to stop. Even when I felt like I was losing control of it, it was hot. I didn't...I didn't quite believe it was real back then. I thought we were mostly roleplaying, engaging in a collective fantasy. I was only doing what she wanted.”

“But, over time, Laura began to fade and disappear. She quit her job. I was fine with that- I made enough to support her and I liked having a brainwashed housekeeper in the home. She stopped seeing her friends. She even stopped responding to her name. It was like her personality just drained out. Towards the end, when she wasn't actively obeying me, she would just sit there in a stupor. Like she wasn't even a person.”

“At one point I even tried to get Laura back. I would tell her that she WAS Laura right now, that she could act like Laura. And she would..for a few minutes. But she couldn't sustain it. Laura wasn't there anymore-not really. She was only my slave.”

“And- well...that wasn't what I wanted.”

“I felt responsible for her, of course. I stayed....another 6 months after I knew it had to end. But- I couldn't condemn myself to be stuck as her caretaker forever. Not over a genuine mistake.”

“I did my research- even tracked down and  paid a good amount of money for some black market MKULTRA info. I figured out how they built a new personality in their sleeper agents, one that could function in day to day life. One that would feel real and whole to my slave in a way that Laura didn't anymore. One that didn't have to remember what Laura had been through.”

“And so...that's when I made Marianne."

Desiree's usually-confident voice had become more and more shakey as her story went on. She sighed.

Clara felt no sympathy. "So why is your Marianne stuck reciting mantras on my couch?" asked Clara, shortly. "And how do I fix her?"

"I'm guessing you tried a regression?" asked Desiree.

"Yes," said Clara, her voice cold. "She was having sexual compatibility problems. With her fiance."

"Fuck," said Desiree. "Of course she was. I never thought she'd manage to HAVE a fiance. OK, so you must have gotten her under deeply enough that she remembered her old self. It's like her old slave programming is coming through and she's trying to erase Marianne in the same way that she erased Laura."

"We've been here for 3 hours," said Clara impatiently, gripping her phone. "Her fiance will be looking for her soon. This is your responsibility. You need to come here. Fix her."

"That's a bad idea," frowned Desiree. "I think my going there would just...encourage the process. She needs more help than you'll be able to give right now. Let me think. Can I put you on hold for a minute?"

"What?! No you can't-"  Clara exclaimed, just as the phone went mute. 

She paced her office, frustrated and angry.

After some time, Desiree's voice came back on the other line. She sounded calmer now. More in control. Clara felt something inside her shift.

"OK, Clara- listen carefully. This is what we're going to do. You're going to call and arrange for an involuntary commitment for Marianne at the Cedar Crest psych hospital. Tell them that she's hearing voices that are telling her to harm herself. You may even want to suggest to her that she HEARS voices before you go- she's way more open to suggestion right now that she appears. You'll drive her to their admissions department. Dr Marshall will meet you there- he's a close friend and I've told him enough that he can handle the situation. A commitment will give him a few days to do so more thoroughly. Dr. Marshall can contact Marianne's fiance- you needn't bother. You'll return to your office and call me back. Understand?"

Clara wanted to object. This was completely unethical. She shouldn't let Desiree talk her into participating in this.

"I understand, ma'am", she heard her voice saying, as if from a great distance.

Desiree sounded relieved. "Good girl. Now go make your calls."

Clara hung up the phone, feeling clear and steady. She knew what she needed to do next.

[myaekingheart]

132. Stakeout Paradise

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3 index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

Arai watched with curious amusement as Rei paced the back of the briefing room. There was a certain level of focus on her face, a deep-seated concentration. She looked as if she was desperately trying to solve a math problem, or as if she was constipated. Arai wasn’t sure which was the case but either way, she was intrigued.

Without breaking her gaze, the blonde leaned over the table toward her comrades. “Alright, how much you wanna bet she’s going to lose it in five minutes?” she whispered, a sly smile touching her lips.

“Are you really going to gamble on our captain’s sanity?” Hitsuji asked. He glanced to Rei and frowned. Nothing about this felt right.

Kikkake abruptly slapped a ten dollar bill on the table. “Make it two minutes” he said.

The head of the ANBU, Meishu, cleared his throat as he shuffled his paperwork at the podium. “I guess that just about covers it” he concluded gruffly. He shot Arai a fierce, momentary glare as if to warn her about the dangers of interrupting his briefings. Arai merely smirked back at him, unaffected.

Meishu was a raspy and apathetic man. It was obvious that he had seen some shit. Scars dappled his body and dark circles bloomed under his eyes. His hair was stringy and graying, but his body remained muscular and agile. No one knew how long he had been in the black ops for and no one dared to ask. As he shoved his papers into a bent manila folder and approached the door, he grumbled and then pointed across the room to shout, “Oh, and Natsuki! Fuck off with that pacing shit. You’re giving me a migraine.”

Rei immediately froze, eyes wide and unblinking, and her face turned bright red. Arai stifled a laugh. “There’s an outcome we didn’t plan for” she whispered to the others. Yugao grimaced and whacked both her and Kikkake on the backs of their heads. As much as she enjoyed seeing their little team finally getting along, she wished their camaraderie did not have to be at Rei’s expense.

As the rest of the ANBU filed out of the briefing room, Yugao rose to her feet and patted Rei lightly on the back. “It’s showtime” she whispered with a soft, reassuring smile. Rei nodded, huffing, as she mentally prepared herself for what was to come. This mission could make or break her reputation in the black ops. They could not afford to fail.

“Alright, this is who we’re looking for” Rei said, slapping a stack of case files in front of them. The pages outlined all of the intel thus far gathered about a rogue shinobi by the name of Shuncho. He was a tall, sleepy looking man with drooping eyes and greasy brown hair.

Sukui immediately cringed. “Well, he certainly has no sense of style whatsoever” he complained.

Arai smirked. “Yeah, because that’s why we’re out to arrest him. Crimes against fashion” she jested.

“No, actually he’s accused of murder” Yugao corrected.

“Well, if you have to commit a crime, you might as well look good” Sukui remarked. “The cameras we take mug shots with certainly don’t do anyone any favors.”

Kikkake rolled his eyes. “No one gives a damn what you look like when you’re in jail.”

“Whoa, hey, wait a sec, that’s not entirely true” Arai countered. “They care if you look like a little bitch. Then you get beat to a pulp every day by the bigger guys.”

“And how would you know?” Kikkake asked. “Have you been to jail? Because I don’t think the black ops take kindly to reformed criminals.”

“I heard Meishu-sensei will have your guts just for trying to break protocol, let alone anything worse” Sukui interjected with an airy laugh.

Arai rolled her eyes, paying no mind to Sukui’s comment. “I don’t have to go to jail to know how it works, smartass” she argued to Kikkake. “It’s common knowledge.”

Sukui pursed his lips. “But how do you know it’s the same for women’s prisons as it is for men’s? Not to sound sexist, of course, but there has to be a difference” he countered.

Hitsuji chewed his lower lip. “I’ve heard women’s prisons are actually more dangerous than—”

“Guys, focus!” Rei interjected, slamming her fist heavily on the table. The whole group silenced, staring back at her with wide eyes full of mild embarrassment. They had all noticed it—the recent surge of fury in her eyes. It was undeniable, growing ever clearer with each passing day. Her newfound angst sprung up seemingly out of nowhere. She was harsh, stern, tense. Her tolerance for their shenanigans had waned to absolute zero.

Yugao rose to Rei’s side and fed the group a reassuring smile. “This is a very serious assignment, so I expect all of you to bring your best. Is that understood?” she asked. Her delivery was far more encouraging, much to her subordinates’ relief. Yugao glanced to Rei, to her tired eyes and her clenched jaw. She hoped, perhaps selfishly, that she would not remain this uptight throughout the entire mission. Bad moods made for long, rough nights and now was not the time to be unpleasant.

Konoha had gained intel of their target heading toward an outpost on the edge of town, someplace trashy and rife with tourists. It was the type of place known for gambling and attractive women—the exact opposite of Rei’s comfort zone. Other anonymous tips recalled seeing him around a rundown inn in the center of town, hood up and back hunched like he was clearly hiding something.

The venture to the outpost was torturous enough on its own. Arai and Kikkake argued constantly about heaven only knew what, Hitsuji was constantly sneezing and coughing from the “heightened pollen count,” and Sukui decided that their trip was far too boring and required an acapella concert. Clad in plainclothes disguises, they looked like the most ridiculous ragtag group of civilians to ever exist. Rei could only hope that they’d blend in well enough with the equally ridiculous types of people that the outpost tended to attract. Or at the very least, they’d be mistaken for traveling musicians. At least Sukui could play that part well. His voice, though refined, was beginning to give Rei a migraine. She sucked in a sharp breath and swallowed back her own unease.

Try as she might, however, Rei's sanity grew progressively more unstable as they journeyed further. Yugao's concern mounted as Rei paled and insisted they stop for the fifth rest of the morning. Her constant breaks were starting to irk the others, growing impatient with their drawn-out trip.

"We should've already gotten there by now" Kikkake grumbled under his breath.

Arai crinkled her nose. "Yeah, isn't this kind of a time sensitive thing? What if he gets wind that we're coming for him and books it before we can even show up?"

"Th-that's not a very comforting thought" Hitsuji stammered, picking at his lower lip.

Sukui sighed and replied, "Well, I for one am enjoying this relaxing little stroll."

"Yeah, no shit" Arai muttered under her breath.

"You just want to take advantage of forcing us to listen to you sing" Kikkake added.

"Excuse you!" Sukui shouted. "Sorry for thinking our trip would be better with a little music!"

"If you can even call it that" Kikkake snarked. Sukui gasped, offended, before lunging at his comrade. Arai immediately swooped in and grabbed him by the back of the shirt, tugging him back hard as he swatted at the bald man and complained that Kikkake wouldn't know good music if it boxed his ears in.

Amid the chaos of their escalating argument, Rei snuck away to a nearby tree to catch her breath. When leaning her forehead against the trunk was not enough, she slid down to the gnarled, exposed roots and tucked her head between her knees. Her face was hot and numb and her stomach churned. She sucked in a deep, sharp breath and willed her body to cooperate.

“Hey, are you sure you’re alright?” Yugao asked, kneeling down in front of Rei. “You look terrible.”

Rei swatted at the air dismissively, pursed her lips. “I’ll be fine” she lied. “I think I just got food poisoning from my mom’s cooking last week, it’s really not a big deal.” Yugao paused, furrowing her brows as she counted the days on her fingers—did food poisoning usually last this long? She wasn’t sure. She had, admittedly, been rather lucky in avoiding digestive ailments over the years. Her lack of expertise was of no help to her now, though.

Even the mere thought of her mother’s cooking made Rei gag into the crook of her elbow. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and dug her nails into her palm, her breathing growing evermore labored and desperate. Yugao pursed her lips and an overwhelming anxiety began to fill her stomach. This was not going to end well, she was sure of it.

By the time they reached the outpost, Rei’s head was beginning to throb. Her clammy hands tightly gripped the straps of her backpack and she could feel the world begin to sway as if she was on high seas. The sun had just started to set, welcoming in the dark, vivid nights when Komaeda Outpost truly came alive.

The inn was actually far nicer than Rei had expected. The mucus-colored linoleum had been polished nicely and the spackled walls were adorned with abstract paintings. Large potted ficuses stood guard at the creaky double doors. The night auditor, a greasy young man with a crack addict’s fidget, awaited them at the counter.

Rei was not necessarily the type of person to actively find disgust in unsuspecting people, but there was something about this man specifically that made her stomach churn. She immediately froze by the doorway, clapping her hand over her mouth. The others paused and glanced back at her suspiciously. “Yugao?” Rei croaked. “Do you mind?” She handed Yugao a folded piece of paper from her pocket and swatted her hand toward the counter. Yugao cocked a brow but slowly turned to oblige. Again, this was not going to end well.

Yugao smiled politely as she approached the counter. “I believe we have a reservation?” she greeted, discretely sliding the rogue-nin’s wanted poster across the counter. The auditor wiped his nose with the back of an unclean hand as he glanced down at the paper. It took him a moment to recognize the face but once he did, he immediately knew that these were the guests that he had been waiting for.

“The hokage sent a message earlier!” he whispered enthusiastically, winking in a rather obvious fashion. He then spun around to the display of keys hanging on the wall and plucked one from the rack. “Your room will be number 402 up the flight of stairs and around the corner” he explained.

As Yugao hesitantly reached for the key, however, Arai stalked forward with an expression of sheer disgust and disbelief. “Whoa, wait a second: are you telling me we only get one room? For the six of us?!” The thought of having to sleep with everyone was completely unacceptable. Rei and Yugao she could accept. After all, they were all women. They saw each other naked in the locker rooms every day. They were of no concern to her. It was the men that she struggled to accept. Hitsuji was a wimp, insignificant, so she didn’t expect much issue from him but Kikkake and Sukui? The thought of it made her nauseous. She’d hate to think of Sukui clinging to her in the night or Kikkake’s morning breath. A shiver ran down her spine. Unacceptable.

The night auditor’s eyes widened and his face went pale. “W-well your supervisors only paid enough f-for one room!” he excused.

Kikkake scoffed, patting Arai on the shoulder condescendingly. “You should be lucky they paid for our room at all” he said. Arai glared up at him and swatted his hand away.

“We’ll be fine!” Rei shouted angrily from across the lobby. She had since doubled over, hands on her knees and hair falling in her face. Sweat beaded on her brow and her breathing had grown significantly heavier. “Just don’t fucking argue about it, it’s not imp—“ she continued, but suddenly all of the color drained from her face. Her composure had finally broken. Whipping around, she leaned over behind the potted plant and violently vomited onto the lobby floor. The night auditor’s face went from shock-white to sick-green.

Yugao winced in both concern and embarrassment. “We’ll, uh…we’ll pay for any additional cleaning charges for that" she said to the auditor. He nodded weakly, clearly disturbed by such a vulgar display. Hitsuji seemed to share in the sentiment, his heart rising into his throat as he instinctively grabbed Kikkake’s strong arm for support. Frowning, the bald man shoved him off in distaste.

Meanwhile, Arai chuckled under her breath and invited herself behind the counter. She kicked down the door to the janitor's office, rummaged around, and then resurfaced with a pathetic little mop.“Here you go, good sir” she grinned, shoving it into Kikkake’s hand.

“What the fuck?” Kikkake grimaced. “Why is it my job?! I don’t fucking work here!”

Arai looked back at him as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. When it became clear to her, however, that it was not, a sickening grin spread across her lips. “Sorry, I thought you were Mr. Clean” she sassed.

Kikkake shot her a fierce glare, throwing the mop across the room violently and complaining under his breath about how this was absolutely ridiculous and that at this point he might as well just buy a fucking wig. Frustrated, he snatched the key from Yugao’s hand and made his way for the stairs.

The night auditor sucked in a sharp, uneasy breath as they departed. Perhaps his expectations had been shattered—after all, the thought of elite ninja should garner images of badassery. Instead, he was stuck with a bunch of dysfunctional misfits. He should’ve known better.

Pressing a button on the phone, the night auditor brought the receiver up to his mouth. “We’re gonna need a janitor in the lobby ASAP. We’ve got another puker.”

Yugao cocked a brow as she made her way toward Rei. “Does this happen often…?” she asked cautiously, wrapping an arm around her captain to provide support.

The night auditor sighed. “Every other day.” And it’s no less disgusting every time it happens, he thought to himself. If he knew he would see vomit this often in this career, he never would’ve pursued it.

Yugao fed him an apologetic smile. She pitied him, really. His job had to be far from easy, especially in a town such as this. Despite the danger of her own career, she was certainly not above acknowledging the challenge of other people’s jobs, as well.

Yugao helped Rei to her feet and something in her chest tugged. Rei looked so pathetic, so flushed and weak. “I think you ought to get some rest” Yugao whispered.

As much as Rei wanted to protest, deep down she knew her lieutenant was right. She fed a sheepish smile to the night auditor as they passed, croaking out a pained, “I’m so sorry” as they disappeared up the stairs. She knew it didn’t mean anything, but she felt obligated to say it anyway. A courtesy, if nothing else.

Their room was, as expected, kind of a dump. The sheets were stiff and almost crunchy, the carpet looked like ground beef, and there was overall the faintest hint of cigarette smoke despite this very clearly being a non-smoking room. But it had a perfect view of the hotel’s west wing where the rogue-ninja was rumored to be staying. Between the two areas was a large courtyard with dying grass and complimentary hot springs. Yugao didn’t even want to consider what kind of germs were floating around in that water.

As they all settled in, Rei slumped down on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands. Arai glanced to her curiously, cocking a brow. “You really don’t look so good, boss” she commented. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”

Raking her fingers through her bangs, Rei nodded but her affirmation wasn’t all that convincing. “I’ll be fine. Like I said, it’s just food poisoning. I’m sure I’ll be good as new by the time we’re back home” she replied.

Hitsuji twiddled his fingers anxiously, his voice rising an octave. “B-But by the time you get home, the mission will be over already!” he exclaimed. “A-are you going to get sick again? Are you going to be sick th-the entire mission?!”

Arai tilted her head back to view Hitsuji from upside-down, furrowing her brows. “And what’s got you so fucked up?” she asked.

“I-I just don’t have a very strong stomach…” Hitsuji replied sheepishly.

Sukui settled into the wobbly chair at the room’s complimentary desk, propping his legs up on the desktop. “Isn’t your sister a nurse? Shouldn’t you have a better tolerance for these sorts of things?”

Hitsuji shook his head rapidly. “She’s got the stomach, I’ve got the brains” he explained. “I could never handle stuff like this.”

Sukui pouted in thought for a moment. “It is pretty disgusting” he confessed. Turning to Arai, he then asked, “How can you stand to handle it?”

Shrugging, Arai leaned back on the bed casually. “What can I say? I’ve got a sister who’s a lightweight” she replied. “I’ve seen my fair share of puke.”

Hitsuji shivered and shook his head. “C-can we please stop talking about this?” he begged.

Rei reached across the bed and rested a gentle hand on Hitsuji’s shivering shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Promise” she assured him. He nodded with wide-eyed panic, glancing to her hand as if she could transmit her illness through touch and had just risked infecting him. The moment Rei recognized this, she inched away and shot him a small, apologetic smile.

Kikkake cocked a brow with crossed arms, not entirely convinced by his captain's words. “And how long have you had food poisoning for, exactly?” he asked.

Rei shot him a fierce glare, a threat for him to not go there. She was so sick and tired of people asking her that same exact question. What did it matter? She was sick, and she had been sick, and all that meant was that she was nearing the end. Disgruntled, she snapped, “I don’t fucking know. Maybe a little over a week or something?”

“That doesn’t sound right” Arai snarked. “As far as I know, most cases of food poisoning clear up in, like, a few days. Right?”

Yugao raised her hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me, I wouldn’t know” she replied.

Hitsuji’s fingers twitched. His body needed a release, a distraction, since his mind by now was too far-gone. “A-are you sure it’s food poisoning?” he stammered out. “I-It could be a parasitic infection, like Cyclospora. Or something internal! Have you had any pain? Fatigue? D-Diarrhea?”

“Ew, gross!” Arai shouted, lopping her shoe at Hitsuji’s head. Maybe he did belong on her hit list after all. “I thought you said you had a weak stomach!”

“I-I do!” Hitsuji countered.

“Then why are you asking nasty shit like that?!” Arai asked.

Kikkake smirked, smacking Arai on the back of the head in response. “I thought you said you had a strong stomach” he jested back. Arai frowned up at him and slapped his hand away, muttering at him to get away from her.

Hitsuji pursed his lips. “The health and wellness of every team member is important. Besides, it’s good to know whether what Captain Rei has is contagious or not.”

“I knew we should’ve gotten separate rooms” Arai grumbled.

Sukui shook his head. “Do you really think we have to ask such ridiculously invasive questions?” he asked.

Tenting his fingers, Hitsuji dropped his gaze to the floor and replied, “Well, yes, sometimes asking unpleasant questions is necessary.”

Rolling his eyes, Sukui leaned back in his chair so that the front legs rose up off the ground. “This whole thing is unpleasant” he pouted.

“Oh, big words coming from the guy who decided our road trip needed a soundtrack!” Arai fired back, laughing incredulously. “You know, you’re not as good a singer as you think you are!”

“Guys…” Rei whined, desperate. Their voices were too loud, the room was too bright, and yet again her stomach began to churn. No one seemed to hear her.

Offended, Sukui gasped in exaggerated, but unfortunately genuine, offense. Kikkake, however, burst out laughing and slapped Arai amicably on the back. “Now there’s one thing we can finally agree on!”

Sukui pouted and tilted his chin away from them like an arrogant little child. “I’ll have you know, I was the runner-up for the school talent show back in the academy. At least back then people appreciated talent!”

“Were the judges tone-deaf?” Kikkake asked.

Arai erupted in hysterical laughter. “You were a kid!” she shouted. “People always lie to little kids that they’re the best so they don’t bitch and moan. They probably just thought you were too pathetic to be honest with.”

“That’s not true!” Sukui shouted, his voice rising in pitch.

His shrill remark rang through Rei’s head, unbearable. “Oh god…” she groaned, clapping a hand over her mouth. Hitsuji’s back went ramrod straight at the sight, squeezing his eyes shut tight and clapping his hands over his ears. The tension was becoming too much.

Sucking in a sharp breath, Yugao launched a kunai for the wall, whizzing right past Hitsuji and Arai’s heads. “Guys” she interjected, voice firm but not loud. The whole room fell silent. “Now is not the time. Have we all forgotten we have a job to do here?” She motioned toward the large window in their room, to the west wing across the way. Sighing, she brushed her hair back and continued. “Listen, I know that we all think Rei being sick is an inconvenience”—here, Rei whimpered in offense— “And should she have stayed home? Probably. But it’s too late to turn back now so we all just have to make the best of a bad situation, okay?” She strode toward the bed then, resting a soothing hand on Rei’s shoulder, a show of support to the others. She locked eyes with the four of them and pursed her lips. “I’m sure everything is going to be fine. No one is going to get sick or contract some deadly disease. Rei just needs to rest up and part of that means no more arguing. Do I make myself clear?”

The others remained silent as they stewed in Yugao’s words. For only a lieutenant, she certainly had a commanding presence. If they didn’t know any better, they would’ve even mistaken her for their captain. Rei’s current state was, unfortunately, not boding well for her leadership skills. The moment the thought crossed all of their minds, however, they unanimously felt guilty about it. It wasn’t her fault that she was sick. And really, pursuing the mission regardless spoke volumes for her dedication to her career, didn’t it? It may not have been the smartest choice, but her determination was admirable enough.

Placing her hands on her hips then, Yugao surveyed the group and asked, “Alright, who wants to take night watch?”

The sun had already set and the chatter of tourists echoed through the halls, eager for a night on the town. They all knew full well what kind of environment was awaiting them in the coming hours. The more chaos the enemy had to camouflage himself within, the more dangerous he became.

Hitsuji’s hand immediately shot up in response. There was an eagerness on his face that no one had actually expected of him. “Please let me do it!” he said. “I want to do it. I need to do it!”

Kikkake narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “And what if something happens? You’re too weak to take down the bad guy on your own” he argued.

“Mm, yeah, that’s true” Arai replied. “If he gets to us, he’ll kill Hitsuji in a split second.”

Hitsuji sighed, muttering under his breath, “Thanks for having so much faith in me.”

“What about you, pretty boy?” Kikkake asked. He wadded up a piece of paper from the notepad by the phone and tossed it at Sukui’s head. “Why don’t you make yourself useful for once?”

“As if!” Sukui exclaimed. “I need my beauty sleep. You don’t become this attractive by pulling all-nighters, you know.”

“God, you’re so conceited” Arai complained under her breath.

Kikkake shot her a glare. “Then what about you? Why don’t you do it?”

Arai matched his fury in her stare. “Why don’t you?”

“I never said I wouldn’t!” Kikkake shot back.

“Guys, come on!” Yugao called. “If Hitsuji wants to do it, then I say let’s give him a chance. Teamwork is important and we have to trust in our comrades' abilities or else we’ll never succeed as a squad.”

A soft smile fought it’s way through Hitsuji’s panic as he climbed over the beds and settled down in front of the window. His hands moved dexterously as he began assembling the little telescope from their arsenal of supplies. He paid no mind to the instructions. “I won’t fail you guys, I promise” he said softly as he worked.

“I hope not” Arai muttered.

Once she was finished organizing their weapons on the floor, Yugao stepped lightly across the room and rested a hand on Rei’s back. She had hardly moved over the past fifteen minutes, leaning forward with her face buried in her hands. “Rei? I really think you need to get some rest. Come on” she said softly. Rei gave a minute nod and allowed Yugao to help her shift back onto the bed, curling up on her side. Yugao pushed the trash can dutifully beside her just in case.

The others watched in subtle intrigue—it was kind of refreshing to see that not only was Yugao a formidable leader but she also possessed a very tender, maternal side to her, as well. It was comforting to know that she would look after them should anything happen in the field. I bet she'd make a great medic-nin, Arai thought to herself.

Meanwhile, Sukui readjusted in his desk chair and plucked a room service pamphlet from the document holder. A sly smile touched his lips as he idly flipped through the extensive menu. “Well, while we’re here, who’s hungry?” he asked. “I think I’m going to order some room service! I’ve heard that that’s about the only thing this hotel is good for: their food.”

Arai shook her head, sprawled out like a starfish on the bed. “I don’t even know how you can eat at a time like this” she groaned.

“Don’t worry” Kikkake replied. “Sooner or later we’ll get hungry again.”

“God, I don’t even want to know how much the food here costs” Arai replied. “I’d probably go broke. Good thing I brought snacks, at least.” Here, she rolled over onto her stomach and dug around in her backpack, fishing out a pack of peanut butter crackers…that had since crumbled into nothingness. She frowned, disappointed, before tossing them over Rei’s hunched body and into the trash can. “Well, there goes that idea.” Frustrated, Rei grabbed one of the decorative throw pillows and launched it squarely at Arai’s head, but missed and hit the ceiling light instead. One of the three bulbs cracked and shattered across the floor. Again, Rei groaned.

Yugao sighed and rubbed her forehead, muttering, “If the food doesn’t eat up all of our money, I’m sure the custodial fees will.”

By midnight, the group’s energy had significantly dwindled. Rei had passed out, her hair sticking to her dewy face. Meanwhile, Yugao sat cross-legged on the floor indexing their weaponry and polishing their kunai. It was always important to keep track of your supplies just in case. The last thing they needed was to return to Konoha only to discover a shuriken was missing. In contrast, Kikkake had idly waded halfway through the complimentary copy of Our Lady Kaguya tucked into the nightstand drawer, and Arai had zoned out tossing a wad of paper—the same one launched earlier at Sukui’s head—up and down toward the ceiling. Sukui snuck out hours ago and was nowhere to be found.

“You think we ought to go look for him or something?” Arai asked. “Maybe the enemy found him and killed him. The least we could do is retrieve the body.”

“And have a dead guy in our hotel room?” Kikkake asked boredly. He licked his fingertips, turned the page. “I’d rather not.”

Yugao looked up from her work and grimaced. “She has a point. If something happens to him, Rei and I are responsible. Losing a comrade in the line of duty doesn’t reflect very well on us” she replied. Let alone the emotional toll. She’d hate to think of the chaos that would ensue should another comrade die on Rei’s watch. Not that she was watching anything other than the inside of her eyelids, but Yugao did not fault her for that. She just wanted Rei to be okay.

From his post, Hitsuji gave the smallest shake of his head. “I think he’ll be fine” he said. “Sukui’s not stupid. He’s stronger than he looks, too. And besides, I haven’t seen anything questionable the entire time I’ve been sitting here.” If anything, he was sure Sukui disappeared among the party animals to both gain intel and flirt with the local women. If there was ever a member of their group who could effortlessly blend in here, it would be Sukui. Hitsuji had faith.

“How are you holding up?” Yugao asked him, a sympathetic smile touching her face. Hitsuji had been sitting there for nearly five hours straight now. “If you want to switch out, just say so. I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind the change of pace.”

Hitsuji, however, protested. “I’ll be just fine, don’t you worry about me” he reassured and though he did not turn around, it was clear that he was smiling. “One time, I had a panic attack so bad that I stayed awake for 36 hours straight, no problem. This should be a breeze for me.”

“Are you still panicking?” Arai asked in disbelief. Hitsuji made a mild noise to indicate that, somehow, yes, he was.

“Well, if and when you pass out, I’m not carrying you to bed” Kikkake snarked.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. The whole group went stiff. Rei groaned and creaked her eyes open, curious. She reached for the kunai in her back pouch just to be safe. An anxious electricity filled the air.

“I’m sure it’s nothing” Yugao whispered in reassurance. She rose to her feet, grabbing a kunai of her own as she approached the door. “It’s probably just Sukui. I doubt the enemy would figure out what room we’re in.”

“Unless he got it from the night auditor” Arai whispered.

Kikkake shook his head. “I don’t think he’d be that stupid.”

“Unless he’s in on it, too!” Hitsuji replied.

“Or maybe…” Arai started, hunching her back and curling her fingers in a creepy stance. “They killed the night auditor!” She peppered in her best spooky, evil villain laugh for extra pizzazz. Hitsuji’s back went ramrod straight. Rei reached behind her to slap Arai hard on the thigh.

“Don’t say that, that’s not funny” the redhead grumbled.

“Look who’s awake!” Arai jested, poking Rei in the side. Rei swatted her hand away, grumbling under her breath.

Yugao shot them all a sharp glare and rose a finger to her lips, shushing them. Her opposite hand hovered over the doorknob. She stood on tiptoes to peer through the peephole. Relief washed over her as she recognized who was on the other side and opened the door.

“Did you miss me?” Sukui asked, sliding into the room. A wide grin spread across his face and his cheeks were flushed. Kikkake wondered if he had been drinking.

“Where the hell have you been?” Yugao asked, taking hold of his shirt. “You had us all worried sick.”

Sukui swatted at the air dismissively as he wiggled out of Yugao’s grasp and plopped back down in his desk chair. “Oh, I was checking out the kitchen!” he replied. “It might not be the fanciest place to cook, but damn do they mean it when they say this place has great food!”

Yugao shook her head as she bolt-locked the door. “I’m just glad you’re not dead.”

“So, what have I missed?” Sukui asked, making himself comfortable.

The five of them replied in unison, “Absolutely nothing.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing I went to go make my own fun then!” Sukui grinned.

Grimacing, Arai launched her wad of paper at his head then and sneered, “I hope you didn’t go poking around where you’re not supposed to, you little creep.”

“Yeah, we don’t need you out blowing our cover” Kikkake agreed.

Sukui rolled his eyes. “Have a little more faith in me!” he plead. “I think you’ll all find that my poking around will do us quite a bit of good.”

Yugao froze, eyeing him. “I don’t like the sound of that.” What had he gotten into? What damage had he done? She knew she never should’ve let him wander on his own.

Sukui, however, seemed completely unaffected and unconcerned. “Just hang on. You’ll see” he mused, a playful smile toying on his lips. Yugao swallowed back her fear and tried to remain calm. She glanced to Rei, rolling sleepily over onto her side and burying her face in her pillow. For a moment, Yugao hated her.

Another uneventful hour passed. Yugao’s worry only mounted further. Hitsuji hadn’t reported any movement in the west wing whatsoever and at first, she accepted the quiet. She was almost relieved, even. Regardless of her experience in the field, she always felt a sense of anxiety whenever she was confronted with the enemy. She was too aware of the dangers, of the possibilities, of her own mortality. It was like stage-fright before a big recital—even if you were well-rehearsed, there were still so many things that could go wrong in the moment. But unlike a recital, in this case lives were at stake.

The longer they went without a hint of action, however, the more Yugao began to fear that they had, in fact, been misled. After all, the enemy was not stupid. If he caught even slightest murmur that he was being watched, he could bail in an instant and Team Ku would never know. Yugao hated to think of how long they would last before they realize that this was all for nothing, that they had been duped. For a moment, she even caught herself praying for something in an effort to relieve her own anxiety. Anything to assure her that they were not wasting their time.

And then, as in direct response to her prayers, there was a knock at the door. Yugao’s heart skipped a beat, her breath hitching in her throat. Sukui immediately leapt to his feet and raced to the door. He was a little too confident for Yugao’s comfort. “Be careful!” she called after him. He wasn’t even armed, or at least not that she could see.

Sukui swung the door open excitedly to greet the rather tired-looking man hunched on the other side. In front of him was a heavy, undecorated metal cart. “Your room service, Mr. Yukio” he droned, wheeling the cart inside. It clattered and clanked as it went, cluttered with food. Yugao’s eyes widened.

Rei furrowed her brows, disrupted by the noise, before rubbing her eyes and slowly sitting upright. “What the hell is all of this about?” she yawned.

Sukui grinned proudly as he tucked a few dollars into the man’s pocket as a tip before sending him on his way. “Well, I figured since we’re all working so hard and need to keep up our strength, I’d order everyone dinner!” he explained. “I got all of your favorites.”

And truly, somehow he had gotten all of them their favorites. Tsukimi udon for Yugao, broiled saury for Kikkake, vegetable stir fry for Hitsuji—who evidently was a vegetarian—and tonkotsu ramen for Arai. Sashimi for himself and for Rei, a platter of gyoza alongside a bowl of miso soup. Sukui distributed everyone’s food one by one, face beaming with satisfaction and delight. Perhaps he wasn’t as self-centered as he seemed, after all.

He served Rei last, being very careful with the hot bowl of soup. “Now I don’t know if miso is necessarily your favorite” he started, “but I thought maybe it might help your stomach.” He set the bowl down on the nightstand with a napkin and a little spoon. The steam wafted up into Rei’s face, the scent of the warm, salty broth hitting her nose, and she was instantly overwhelmed with a welcome sense of calm. “My mother always used to feed me miso soup when I had to stay home sick from school, and I know it always made me feel better so I hope it does the same for you, too” he added.

Rei was, quite frankly, awestruck. She thanked him softly, exercising great care in cradling the bowl in her lap. With each tiny sip of broth, her entire body was further drenched in a tranquil warmth. She shivered, but out of delight rather than cold. Her stomach finally began to unclench.

“How did you even know what we all liked, anyway?” Arai asked, slurping her noodles.

Sukui merely shrugged. “I pay attention” he replied bluntly.

As grateful as Yugao was for such a kind act, there was one point of contention that she could not seem to shake. “Did you pay for all of this out of pocket?” she asked. She could only imagine how expensive this all was. Where did he get that kind of money?

Shaking his head, Sukui replied, “I just put it on our room’s tab.”

Yugao’s face immediately went stark white. “Y-You did what?!” she exclaimed.

Sukui popped a piece of sushi in his mouth, unbothered. “I don’t see what the big deal is” he replied. “It’s not like the room is in any of our names to begin with. We’re not paying to stay here.”

Yugao sucked in a sharp breath, prayed for peace. “That’s not the point” she replied. “Someone has to pay for this.” And it’s likely Lady Tsunade, she thought to herself. She already knew the hokage was deep in her own debt. Surely this was not going to help. Besides, Konoha’s good civilian tax dollars were not meant for luxurious meals to the ANBU. Now Yugao was the one getting a migraine.

Arai paused before spitting her noodles back into her bowl. “Should we not be eating this then? Should we send this back?” she asked.

“No!” Sukui demanded abruptly, pointing at her. “No, you put those noodles back in your mouth right now!”

Arai blinked in shock—she had never seen Sukui so assertive before. Without breaking eye contact with him, she slowly lifted the noodles back up to her mouth and slurped them down at an obnoxious volume. For what it was worth, Sukui had been right about the food being incredible. Even if she had to, she didn’t particularly want to give her ramen back to begin with. Not that they would want it back anyway. It had already been in her mouth, they had no way of repurposing it.

Defeated, Sukui dropped into his chair and rested his chin in his hands. “I just wanted to do something nice for everyone” he sighed. “I wanted to show how much I appreciate you guys.”

“We know” Yugao replied, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I just need to make sure that we’re doing things right.”

Suddenly, Rei interjected herself into the conversation. “Fuck it” she said. “Like he said, we’re not paying for it. It’s not our problem. Let’s just…try to enjoy this while we can, alright?”

And while they were all still relatively uneasy about the subject, Rei had a point. They had a big mission ahead of them, they had been working long and tiresome hours. It was exhausting being on guard all the time and certainly they were all feeling the strain. But that was no excuse for slacking on self-care. Heaven forbid if anything happened, starvation and sleep-deprivation did not make for triumph in battle. Clearly, Sukui knew this. He was only trying to keep everyone’s morale in check. He had no obligation to go to such lengths to provide for them, but he did. The least they could do was accept his generosity and enjoy the good food.

They ate in silence, at first slow and cautious. As they fell into comfortable acceptance of the meal, however, their hesitancy transformed to ravenous and messy. By the time they had finished, a sleepy haze swept over the lot of them. Arai fell back onto the bed and patted her stomach, full and satisfied. Kikkake smirked and gathered everyone’s dirty dishes. He veered away from Rei, her bowl still half-full, and then slipped into the bathroom to rinse everything in the sink.

While Rei did not scarf down her meal like the others, simply nursing her soup had soothed her and seemed to ease the tension out of her bones. It was perhaps the only thing she could really keep down for the past five days and for that, she was grateful. She hadn’t realized just how weak she had become until now. She chewed her lower lip, squeezed her hand around her wrist. The tip of her thumb overlapped with the nail of her middle finger. She swallowed back a lump rising in her throat, prayed for her stomach to remain calm.

On her way back from the bathroom, Rei rested a gentle hand on Hitsuji’s shoulder and gazed out at the view. It was truly breathtaking: flickering technicolor lights lined the streets, the bubbling of the hot springs echoed from below, and in the distance the craggy mountains faded into the night sky. She lifted the glass in her opposite hand to her lips, the water from the tap tasting metallic and rotten. “You should get some rest” Rei whispered. “I’ll stand guard.”

Hitsuji shook his head in protest. “Like I said, I’ll be fine” he smiled up at her.

“But you’ve been at this for almost seven hours now” Rei argued. “You need to take a break.” If nothing else, she felt obligated to take over in an effort to feel productive. All she had done this entire mission was puke and sleep. It wasn’t fair to pass the work off to all of her subordinates. After all, she was their captain. She wasn’t doing a very good job of leading them this time around—a fact that left a rancid taste in her mouth.

Hitsuji reached out and halted Rei’s hand from adjusting his telescope. His grip was tighter than she had expected. “Captain Rei, please” he murmured, voice level and sure. “I need you to let me do this. I’ll be fine. Besides, you still need your rest, too.” His voice cracked slightly on this last sentence, a hint that he was still paranoid about Rei’s sickness. Perhaps his tolerance for vomit really was nonexistent. So long as she kept sleeping, and so long as he kept his focus squarely on something else, he would have no problems. He knew it was selfish, but he was willing to sacrifice his own energy stores for the protection of both his comrades and his own sense of sanity.

Not wanting to argue, Rei gave a single nod before trudging back toward the bed. Arai had since sprawled out across the lower half, passed out and drooling on the duvet. Rei maneuvered around her and curled up on the right edge, closing her eyes. She felt the mattress shift yet again as Yugao settled in beside her. The light flicked off.

“Hey, Rei?” Yugao whispered after a long stretch of silence. “Can I ask you something?”

Rei rolled over, though she knew she wouldn’t be able to see Yugao in the dark. It just felt right to face her anyway. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Are you sure you have food poisoning?” she asked. The question was unexpected, to say the least.

Rei blinked, dumbfounded, as she tried to process the question. She opened and closed her mouth for a solid minute, attempting to formulate a response. “W-why do you ask?” she finally stammered out.

Yugao rolled onto her side, head propped up on her arm. “I’m worried about you, Rei” she confessed. “Food poisoning doesn’t last this long. You’ve been down for the count all night. I don’t think I’ve been doing a very good job of holding down the fort without you. I need your help. I can’t do this by myself but…I also don’t want to push you past your limits.”

“Yugao…” Rei murmured. She instinctively reached out to take her lieutenant’s hand in hers. “I promise, I’m perfectly fine. And…I’m sorry. I know I need to be there for you—for all of you, really. This is as much of an inconvenience for me as it for all of you. Believe me, I don’t want to be fucking sick like this. But I’m already feeling tons better. I’m going to be fine.”

Yugao gave a single nod, rolled over onto her back. She stared up at the ceiling, chewed her lower lip. She should’ve taken comfort in Rei’s words but…she was still unresolved. “And Rei?” she asked. Rei made a small noise to ensure that she was listening. “If something was genuinely wrong, you would tell me, right?”

Rei blinked. “O-of course” she admitted. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know” Yugao replied. She knew something was going on. She knew that Rei had been acting differently—saw it in the way she avoided meals, in the way her temper flared so much easier now. Perhaps it was just the stress. Taking on the role of a captain was a lot of added responsibility. It had only been a month. Surely Rei was still struggling to adjust. Especially after what she had been aiming for beforehand. Yugao instinctively rested a hand atop her own stomach, wondered if thoughts of parenthood still circulated through Rei’s mind. “Just promise me one thing” Yugao finally whispered.

“What is it?” Rei asked.

Yugao sucked in a sharp breath, closed her eyes. A promise. “Don’t keep me in the dark.”

By morning, everyone had rearranged into one catastrophic dog pile. Arai’s foot in Kikkake’s face, Sukui’s arm draped across Arai’s eyes. And all the while, Hitsuji still sat guard by the window. His eyes were droopy and bloodshot, his mouth dry, and his hands began to shake. Fatigue weighed his body down, slumping his shoulders and hunching his back, but regardless he did not falter.

Kikkake swatted Arai’s foot away as he groaned awake, rolling the tension out of his neck and stretching his arms out in front of him. Somehow, he was the first to wake up. The moment he noticed Hitsuji, he trudged toward the window and slapped a hand amicably on his back. “Man, come on, you’ve got to go to sleep” he croaked. Shed of his hardened exterior so early in the morning, there was something almost heartwarming about Kikkake now. He was more palatable, kinder.

Meanwhile, Sukui sighed in his sleep and muttered something about a pretty woman, rolling over and hugging Arai close. Arai furrowed her brows and shifted in her sleep, her mind immediately waking up to a question of what, exactly, was pressed against her thigh. As she blinked her eyes open, it became all too clear to her.

“Get off me, you little freak!” she shouted, shoving Sukui away from her. Sukui scrambled awake, his blonde hair sticking up in all different directions. Arai aimed a pillow for his crotch and shouted, “Go get a cold shower, you fucking pervert!”

Sukui blinked and then looked down to find an unfortunate case of morning wood. His cheeks burned bright red as he hid behind the pillow and apologized profusely.

“God, it’s so early for fighting” Rei groaned, pressing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. “Can you guys please tone it down?”

“I’m with Rei” Kikkake groaned. He dragged his tired body to the mini fridge in the corner, started a pot of coffee. The coffee maker hissed, gurgled, and then inconsistently spat lumpy liquid into the glass urn.

Yugao rolled over onto her side, furrowing her brows toward Hitsuji. How he managed to stay awake this long was beyond her. She was grateful for his dedication, of course, but not at the expense of his own health.

“Hitsuji, you really ought to get some sleep” she said, slowly sitting upright. Rei nodded as she reached for the glass of water on her nightstand.

“You’ve been up all night” Rei added. “Sooner or later, you’re going to start seeing things. Come on, get some rest.”

Hitsuji, however, shook his head. “I can’t” he protested. “Not now.”

“And why not?” Arai asked sourly. She hated to admit that even she was desperate to see him sleep.

“Because” Hitsuji began, narrowing his eyes, “The enemy is looking right at me.”

Kikkake choked on his coffee, gasping for breath. “I’m sorry, what?” he asked.

Hitsuji gave a single nod. “He’s right there, across the courtyard. Third floor, fifth window from the corner” he explained, staying innately still.

“You sure you’re not just seeing things?” Arai snarked, restraining an incredulous little laugh. After an uneventful night, she would’ve more readily believed he was hallucinating than anything else. If the enemy was really going to make waves, he would’ve done so already. The entire mission was a sham.

Arai stretched her arms out in front of her, releasing the tension from her body. As she reached up to the sky, however, the window shattered and a kunai came whizzing past her ear to stick in the wall. The entire room went still and silent.

Hitsuji sucked his teeth. “Yeah, I’m sure.”  

Rei gasped and ducked, narrowly avoiding a stab to the eye. The kunai just barely grazed her fluffy ponytail, a few strands of fiery hair falling onto her pillow. The blade stuck in the wall with a metallic thud, a paper bomb dangling from the handle. Fuck.

In one swift motion, Rei knocked back a large gulp of water, puffing her cheeks out as she held it in her mouth. Meanwhile, she crumpled the paper bomb tight in her opposite hand.

“Rei, hurry up!” Kikkake shouted. He had since dropped his coffee and grabbed one of the many weapons off the floor.

Rei grimaced at him, making a frustrated whine, as she worked. She focused on the tag in her hands, on separating the chakra from the paper like removing dye from a scrap of fabric. Once she had separated as much as she could manage, she let the enemy's chakra seep into her palm, willed it to siphon faster and faster up through her own network. She leapt across the room as she infused the chakra with the water in her own mouth, the strength of it burning like mouthwash. Rei leaned over the windowsill then, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shot the water across the courtyard in a projectile attack. The enemy shouted in shock, pummeled with the exact level of power he had intended to hit them with.

The scream had, understandably, attracted a fair amount of attention. The bathroom door bust open at the sound and in raced Sukui, covered in soap and water with a towel around his waist and a shower cap on his head. “I heard screaming! What’s going on?!”

Yugao and Kikkake immediately raced out the door, fully prepared to apprehend their suspect. Rei's attack had immobilized him enough to grant them extra time. As Arai followed behind them, she shoved a set of clothes against Sukui’s chest and demanded, “Get dressed, idiot. It’s go-time!”

It took Sukui only a few seconds to understand what was happening but once he had, he quickly mopped the suds off his body and scrambled to step into his clothes. He wasn’t a very fast dresser, however, nor was his balance very great, so he ended up falling over and faceplanting straight into the nasty carpet instead. Now I’m going to need another shower, he complained in the back of his mind. He didn’t even want to know what kinds of vermin were burrowing deep within that carpet.

“W-what do you need me to do?!” Hitsuji asked as Rei raced out the door.

Glancing back at him over her shoulder, she responded simply, “Stay here.”

It was a reasonable enough request. He wasn’t particularly in the best state to fight right now and besides, they couldn’t leave the room unsupervised with their weapons and other belongings scattered everywhere. Hitsuji was good at keeping watch anyway. Involved in the battle, he would only get in the way.

The arrest went as smooth as any arrest can go. The man fought back, and hard, but a couple rides on the lightning (courtesy of Arai) and a genjutsu to further subdue him seemed to make him manageable enough. If only his resistance had not caused the eventual destruction of the entire west wing of the hotel.

Rei coughed into the crook of her elbow and leaned against a broken pillar as she surveyed the damage. “Fuck…we’re really gonna rack up the custodial fees, aren’t we?”

“Well, think of it this way, boss” Arai grinned, slapping a hand on Rei’s shoulder. “Puking in the lobby is far from the worst thing we’ve done here.” Rei glared at her in periphery, swatting her hand away. One did not negate the other—rather, they only made each that much worse.

The night auditor, sleep-deprived and likely nearing the end of his shift, came racing onto the scene then with the hotel's manager in tow. “What have you done?!” the auditor shrieked, gripping at his hair and trying to comprehend the immense volume of damage.

Kikkake smirked. “We got the enemy” he said, nodding his head toward the rogue ninja now unconscious and slung over his broad shoulder.

“Th-th-that’s not the point!” the auditor argued. “You’ve destroyed the hotel! We’re ruined!”

Yugao pursed her lips. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, this guy was the only occupant in any of the rooms so it’s not like anyone lost their lives today” she said.

Arai snorted in amusement. “Hey, listen, if half of your hotel was empty, I think you were already ruined.”

Neither the night auditor nor the hotel manager found this funny. Grimacing, the manager shook his head in disdain. “Well, you all better be fucking loaded because this is going to cost you all a fortune” he grumbled.

A delighted smile touched Sukui’s lips, apparently viewing this as a challenge. Sliding forward, he lightly grazed the manager’s arm and batted his eyelashes. “We may not have tons of money, but I’m sure we can work out alternative methods to repay you” he cooed.

The manager was a rather burly man with thinning hair and a stubbled face. His belly protruded out over his waistband and he seemed to wear a permanent scowl. He eyed Sukui suspiciously, the young ANBU’s charms clearly having no effect on him.

Sensing the rising tension, Sukui backed away dutifully and muttered under his breath, “He must be straight.”

Arai rolled her eyes and whispered back, “Good eye, Sherlock.”

Sighing, Yugao stepped forward and projected her best business voice. “I promise, we’ll have all the damages paid in full by our supervisors in a timely manner” she assured. “In the meantime, is there anything we can do to help?”

The manager huffed gruffly and shook his head. “The best thing you can do now is get the fuck off my property.”

Yugao blinked, taken aback by the bluntness of his reply. “Duly noted” she murmured. Then, turning to her team, she made a motion with her hand and shouted, “Alright, time to go.”

The others nodded in agreement, bowing their heads as they scurried past the manager and night auditor in embarrassment. Really, the six of them were just trying to do their jobs. If only their jobs did not cause so much damage. Rei trailed behind them, dragging her feet. Her face had since grown pale and her hands unsteady and clammy.

“You alright?” Yugao asked her, waiting by her side.

Rei nodded weakly. “Y-Yeah, I’ll be fine” she replied. “Just took a lot out of me.”

“Maybe you’re not as better as you think you are” Yugao said softly. Her attempts at comedy were overthrown by the concern deeply laced in her voice. Rei hated to admit that she might have been right.

Together, the six of them trudged back to their hotel room, gathered their things, and went on their way.

The journey back to the village seemed far quicker and more tolerable than the journey there. Perhaps it was the adrenaline of the moment, or the promise of sleeping in their own beds, that fueled them further. Or maybe it was just the anxiety of having to face Lady Tsunade--a desperation to get the confrontation over with.

After sending the criminal off to the Intelligence Division for questioning, Team Ku slipped into the hokage's office to submit their mission reports.

“Well? How did it go?” Tsunade asked. Though there was no explicit malice in her voice, Rei shuddered with the fear that she knew something. Perhaps the manager had called her on their way back and outlined the disaster they had caused. Either way, she had a bad feeling about this. Her gut twisted.

“We did the job we set out to do” Yugao replied, hoping to present some level of positivity to the situation.

Tsunade smiled. “And you did a fine job, at that” she replied. “You’re all turning out to be a splendid group of shinobi. You’re really progessing wonderfully, which must be attributed to the strong leadership of your captain.” Here, she eyed Rei with a proud gaze. Rei smiled weakly, arms wrapped around her unsettled stomach. If anything, this mission only proved how weak her leadership truly was. After all, she had barely been conscious the entire time. The guilt was overwhelming.

Shizune, standing dutifully at the hokage’s side, cleared her throat then and whispered, “Uh, Lady Tsunade, there is one thing that should be addressed."

“Hmm? What is it, Shizune?” Tsunade asked. Whatever it was, she didn’t think she wanted to know. She didn’t want to put a damper on her good mood.

Anxious, Shizune slid the bill face-down across Tsunade’s desk. The entire team simultaneously shuddered. This was it: the ultimate end.

Tsunade skimmed over the bill, her expression initially uninterested but quickly transforming into utter shock and disbelief. “What is the meaning of this?!” she shouted, slamming the receipt down on the table. “How the hell did you all manage to spend a million dollars?!”

The six of them peered forward cautiously in disbelief. There, plain as day, sat six figures with a note that read “for fine food and campus destruction.”

“A million dollars?!” Kikkake shouted, automatically turning to Sukui.

Sukui blushed and laughed nervously, swatting at the air as he replied, “Well, it wasn’t entirely my fault.”

Hitsuji nodded, pointing at the receipt. “Only about 25% of that is the food. Everything else was the destruction.”

All the color drained from Rei’s face as she leaned on the arm rest of the office couch for support. “I think I’m going to be sick” she murmured.

She knew that it was going to be bad. That much was obvious. But a million dollars? The figure far exceeded her expectations, and not in a good way.

Without missing a beat, Arai bounced forward and presently snatched the bill right off of Tsunade’s desk. Displeased, Tsunade narrowed her eyes. “And what do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

Arai grinned at her, unadulterated and proud, as she replied, “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to take care of everything.” Truly, there was no way Arai could afford this but she did not allow any time for protest. Receipt in hand, she skipped happily--suspiciously--out of the office. Rei and Yugao exchanged concerned glances. Again, there was no way this was going to end well.

Gloomy clouds hung low overhead as the heavy double doors of Root’s headquarters screeched open. A hawk cawed in the distance. Danzo Shimura looked to the sky. With an arm extended, he summoned the messenger hawk to land upon him and carefully took the note strapped to his leg. He hadn’t been expecting mail but the thought of a promising new opportunity invigorated him. He unraveled the note quickly and as he skimmed the page, his face fell. Staring back at him was the receipt to a trashy hotel, the total of which reached a million dollars “for fine food and campus destruction.”

Danzo, baby, Here’s a little gift from me to you! Make sure you pay it in full, k? Love, a secret not-very-admirer <3

Grumbling under his breath, he ripped the receipt in half and stomped it into the ground before hobbling back inside.

[thevoidwriting]

GOD FUCKING DAMN IT. NOT THIS SHIT.

Warning peeps, somophilia, shadow dicking, poor reader is not ready, mild noncon with slight dubcon.

You look around the old antique store, you were on a road trip, noting special but you wanted to see something's before you finished college and got a full time job. You were also a collector of porcelain dolls, they always facinated you, the hollow life like eyes, the smooth skin or glass, the bouncing locks, how it went from delicate to rough fabric and lastly the clothes.

But not ordinary doll would do it this time you were looking for a boy to add and break up all the girls you had. The numbers if you remembered right was 15 girls to 1 boy, you had 6 boys so you need to get at least one more. As you browsed the shelves you weren't finding what you were looking for. As you go to leave you see behind the counter what you think is a unruly mop of short blond hair.

The girl at the counter was muttering under her breath at how he needed to get in the damned box, you ended up transfixed on it and walked right in to the glass display counter. "Ouch, my bad." You startled the poor girl who looked like she'd been crying. "Hey sorry I didn't see you there... H-how can I help you?" She asked having turned around. "Oh I just thought I saw a doll behind here I must be seeing things." You reply. Then a soft thud is heard as beautifully done male doll falls out of the box the girl was trying to close. "Is he for sale or personal?" You ask. "Not really I was going to trash him since no one can keep Chision for more than a few days." Was her hushed response. He was a blond doll, with green eyes, thin lips, a well sculpted nose, light in complexion like most of his kind, his clothes were a white button up shirt, blue coat and matching blue shorts with lace socks and black leather shoes. Very old by the looks of it. "Can I see it closer, also I don't live around here so he'd never darken your door step." I smile at that. I got a heh as she bent down to pick him up.

Once in hand I looked over his face better I saw cracking in the paint but it was odd they looked more like vains full of black blood than cracking but I could live with that seeing as everything else was pristine and well taken care of, maybe a previous owner painted him for Halloween. Could probably wash it off or lightly scrape it off with out damaging the paint underneath.

"How much for Chrision, he look fine other than the face being painted on." I said feeling excited like I usually do when I get a rare find. "Just take him I was going to trash him as I said previously. Makes no sense to charge for him." She shrugged. "Really are you sure?" I just double checking. "Yeah, he's been trouble since we got him in four years ago so getting rid of him would be for the best." And with that she got me out of the store, when I got in my car I noticed that he was now in a setting, he was just standing I brush it off as again a previous owner gave him joints so as not to freak out.

This weekend I'm staying at a friend's cabin located in the woods, it's cosy not to far from town but still isolated enough that's I'd feel safe to just chill in a towel on the couch. As I drove I felt eyes one me the whole time, when I stoped at the next red light I saw he had moved without making a sound and was looking right at me with vivid bright green eyes, if it weren't day light I would have said they were glowing but its just the sunlight catching the glass right? I brush it off and go as soon as the light turns green and make the last turn to get on the dirt road to the cutesy log cabin at the end of the road.

Aw the woods burred around me as I drove, pine, ceder and oak. Staples of my childhood, seeing the sprawling woods with an antique doll by her side but last time wasn't as creepy.

She'd have to check for a voice box as well so not to startle of it talked out of the blue, ya know cover your bases and what not. As she approached the small two bed, on bath cabin all she could think of is how many times she hitched a ride with he friend and stayed the weekend with said friends family, good times.

After pulling into the kinda made driveway, grabbing the doll which is now standing. "Mr Chision can you please stop doing that, I need to focus on getting all my supplies in the house sir." She didn't know who she was talking to but could have swore that it's eyes blinked as if to say 'I'm innocent' but again she could be wrong.

"Get it together girl." You spoke, you went to the door, unlocked it and set Chision on the table, once again he was in the sitting stance. But your paid no mind and got the supplies and food out of the car, got it out away for the most part and decided to take a nap on the couch.

As you were falling asleep you could swear you could feel something gripping your thighs to pull them apart to see up your skirt and something not quite there slithering up your shirts to play with your nipples but you ended up aroused but asleep much to your dismay.

A few hours pass and you wake to a sticky mess between your legs at your core, "I'm going to shower then.... Well it's dark out might make some food." So you shower than make a simple salad with pre grilled chicken. It's was ok but you were sleepy so you head to the master bedroom and get in the king sized bed, sinking in to the memory foam. "This has to be heaven." Is the last thing you say before knocking out, but as the night progressed you kept waking up to feel eyes on you which was strange but you went back to sleep, the second time it was the same feeling from before and once again you knocked out, third time you could see bright pupiless eyes glowing a unnatural yellow, then knocked back out you stayed asleep the whole time the shadow demon prepared you for its apendge.

This time you woke for you feeling filled and full in both holes but slightly hazy as you hear the rhythmic slapping of someone slipping on the d, thats not right but it hit like a ton of bricks your came all over the shadow creature, "good little owner, you make the cutest faces when I got certain spots, damn you feel so good, right and tight for me. I wish I could say the same for the others." You hear a growl next to your ears it sounded male and female at the same time. When finally got a little bit of strength you turn your head and see Chision the doll next to you.

"oh sweet owner you, that's my hiding place from the light." When it said that it thrustws just a bit deeper and harder making you groan out, "why?" You barely croaked out. "Why indeed, well I need to feed off of fear and lust so why not both at the same time." It suddenly came and that hazy fuzzy feeling came back ten fold making you cum again.

As the night progressed you got more and more filled til you looked like you going to pop and the thing broke you mind so you could be it food source and it's cute little cum dump the last thing you remember before waving sanity good bye was this, "so cute, my little owner thinks she can fight back let's see how much cum it takes before you break or be come my mindless little sex doll only good for me and my cum alone. You know no human can satisfy you now." With an evil cruel chuckle at the end, and break you they did. It only took 17 rounds of cum to do so, in the morning you could kinda feel it drip drip lazily out of you, buy that didn't matter cause you blacked out the windows so it could just shove it back in to you with either it's cock or shadowy not quite there fingers to plug you up nice and good or when you had to leave to get food a thick based dildo. Cause you were to bare it offspring.

That's your life now because you couldn't leave well enough alone you just had to pick up that stupid doll and take it on your trip with you. Now a once innocent toy has make you its perfect lil toy.

[pain-in-the-asguardian]

Pillar

Ch. 2.  Read on Ao3 here!

The good thing about drowning himself in alcohol was that he slept like a log, and if he had dreams he didn't remember a damn thing. The downside was that the mere act of opening his eyes was painful. His tolerance was much higher than his partner's, but it had its limits, especially given his existing injuries. Aside from the dull ache that ran through every muscle, the first thing Rude was aware of was the foreign combination of scents surrounding him. There was the sterile hospital smell from the salve covering his wounds, and a contrasting, clean tang of tea tree. A scent he always associated with Reno, though not one he was accustomed to smelling here, in his own bed.

Reno...  Last night...

Deep brown eyes blinked open, a low sound rumbling in his chest as wakefulness edged out the haze of sleep. He was met with the sight of a bright shock of vermilion resting in front of his nose. Sometime during the night, they'd gone from back-to-back to facing one another. Reno was still asleep, the swell of his chest slow and steady, the silky fabric of the pajama shirt flowing around him. This was a Reno that he wasn't used to seeing. His vivid hair fell loosely about his face, expression relaxed. The lines of tension usually present in his lean frame had melted away, leaving him looking almost... soft. It was still Reno, but sleep had smoothed all of his hard, sharp edges. The man might have a relaxed attitude, but Rude knew that most days, beneath that laid-back manner, he was anything but.

He caught himself staring, fascinated by the change. The events of last night were hazy, but.. he'd never forget the feel of those soft pink lips against his. Ifrit's horns, he had great lips, and.. And they'd kissed. Rude swallowed, feeling a rising heat in his cheeks. It had been one literal hell of a day, and... No, he didn't want to remember the rest of it. Not yet. That would come later, when they got out of bed and the world became all too real.  For now, he could allow himself a few blessed minutes to lay here and focus on Reno. The rest of the world could stay somewhere far away.  It wasn't long before the other began to stir, sheets rustling softly as pale blue eyes fluttered open. Rude watched as he sleepily took stock of the situation, yawning widely.

“Morning,” he said softly.

Reno blinked at him, lips slowly curling into a sleepy, unsure grin as the setting dawned on him. “Hey...” He paused. “...Guess that wasn't a dream... yeah?”

Rude managed to shake his head without actually lifting it from the pillow. Several moments ticked by in silence, neither one sure how to continue, both unable to look away. He was strongly aware of his own heartbeat. Taking a breath, he reached out, slowly, to wipe some sleep away from the corner of the other's eye. Reno didn't protest, and Rude, emboldened, dared to brush a thumb along the sharp edge of one cheekbone.

“Last night,” Reno began quietly, stilling beneath his touch.

“.... Yeah.”

“You mean what ya said, yo?”

“Yeah. You mean what you did?”

He breathed out a laugh. “Hell yeah.”

“How do you feel?”

“Everything's sore. Got a headache. You?”

“Same.”

There was a feathery shuffling, and Reno edged closer to him, draping himself across Rude's chest. Almost reflexively, he moved to wrap his arms around the other, to hold him closer.

“Ow...” they chorused, both wincing at the same time and pulling back. Damn bruises.

And then the moment, whatever it had been, was gone.

“Fuck, I need coffee, yo.”

“Water probably wouldn't hurt, either.” He should have made them both drink some last night, but... that hadn't happened. Rude pushed himself slowly into a sitting position, which his head strongly protested. That might be the most he'd ever drank in one sitting. He probably shouldn't do that again, ever.  Reno eventually mirrored him, sitting up with a groan. Rude couldn't remember ever seeing him so exhausted. He hadn't bothered to fully dry his hair before they'd passed out, and now one side was flattened against the side of his head from the pillow, while the other fell in a haphazard mess.  That got a corner of his lip to turn up.

“What're you grinning at, partner?” The other's tone was accusing.

“Major case of bedhead you've got.”

Reno ran his fingers through the bright mass, which did little to correct it. “Geez. I'm getting gypped here. You don't look any different.”

Rude shrugged.

With a final glare, Reno struggled to his feet, and Rude followed him toward the hallway. The kitchen seemed painfully bright after the darkness of the bedroom, even with the thick cover of rain clouds. His eyes couldn't help wandering to the cityscape outside, squinting while his vision adjusted. He felt a light pressure against his side as Reno leaned carefully against him, following his gaze. Just like last night, Sector 8 seemed unchanged. It was as if from here, it never happened. It seemed... unfair, somehow. No, that wasn't the right word. He didn't want more destruction, and it was reassuring that life was still moving forward in the rest of Midgar. But there should be something different. Some reaction. The world had changed.  Both of them jumped as sirens blared, a pair of emergency vehicles cutting through the rain-drenched streets in the direction of the Sector 7 boundary. That was something. There were people out there, trying to help contain the damage, to do whatever was in their power...  He'd seen the Urban Planning folks racing around back at HQ.  There were good people out there, yeah.  But the reason for that...

“Hey.” He blinked at the sound, chestnut hues sliding to Reno, who nudged him. “C'mon.... Need coffee, yo. You deal with that. I'll make breakfast.”

“N...no, I can do that. You should rest, you-”

“Aren't a tank, got worse injuries, look like crap, yadda yadda.” He waved dismissively, opening the fridge to poke around as if he owned it. “One, I need shit to do. Two, I've seen you make toast and it's a crime, yo.”

Part of him wanted to pick Reno up and deposit him onto the couch, but the rest of him knew it would be pointless. He was right, they both needed something else to think about right now.

Not that making coffee took very long. He set a full pot to brewing, figuring that between the two of them they'd finish it in no time. He also poured a cup of water for himself, and one for Reno, setting it by his side. Assigned mission completed, he leaned on the counter, watching his partner.

Reno moved methodically, prepping each item. It wasn't necessarily what one could call well-stocked, but Rude made sure to keep his kitchen full of the basics. Eggs, bacon, sausages, toast. He knew Reno liked to cook, but he rarely had the chance to witness it. He worked with the same focus he applied to his job, somehow equal parts intense and casual at the same time. It was one of the reasons Rude admired him. Yes, he had an attitude and a mouth to match, but beneath that he was dedicated. Rude was honestly still amazed he was standing, after the beating he'd taken.

It surprised him just how much Reno's slim shoulders could bear. He might say otherwise, but Rude saw him as the strong one. Stronger than he looked, and more intelligent than most people gave him credit for. That was why he was Tseng's right-hand man. It took something special to be a Turk, and even more to be a top Turk.  Today, though... That burden was taking its toll. Reno seemed smaller, more subdued. Rude's oversize pajama top only magnified the effect. It slipped off one freckled shoulder, the edges of the sleeves extending past his fingertips. He would push them back, only for the slick material to slide down again after a minute. His fiery hair fell in a long, loose cascade down his back. It wasn't much longer before the scents of cooking bacon and brewing coffee filled the space.

“Order up, yo.” Reno brandished the spatula at him. “You gonna get plates or just keep starin'?”

“Huh? Oh.” Oops, he'd been caught. “Was admiring the view. Can you blame me?”

“Not at all. But I haven't eaten shit since like... one energy bar before … the.. mission. Yeah. So I'm hungry and cranky.”

“Can't have that. Here you go.” He handed Reno a pair of plates, and proceeded to fill two mugs with fresh coffee. He didn't realize just how hungry he was himself until they sat down. He didn't even remember having an energy bar. Once he had some food and caffeine in him, he started to feel a bit more alive. Reno knew what he was doing, and yes, Rude had to admit that toast was better when it wasn't a blackened brick.

“Not bad. Wouldn't mind if you cooked for me more often.”

“Anything beats yours, yo.” Reno grinned salaciously at him over a forkful of eggs. “Ya got one of those fantasies of me in the kitchen in an apron and nothin' else?”

Rude nearly spit out his coffee. He might not have thought about it before but he certainly was now. And this was not a conversation they were having. He cleared his throat, setting the mug down. “That is not what I was implying at all.” He promptly shoved a strip of bacon into his mouth, nearly burning his tongue. Reno snickered.

Rain continued to patter against the window, the only other sounds that of cars racing by, and the occasional distant siren. Despite how ordinarily calm everything seemed here, in this small space, his stomach still knotted a little with every faint wail. They lapsed into silence, filling their bellies after what felt like an eternity. The events of the past day seemed so recent, and yet hazy.  Had it been one day, or two, or a week?  Eventually they finished, and Rude rose, collecting the plates above his partner's complaint.

“You cooked, I'll clean. You really shouldn't be on your feet more than you need to be.” They glared at one another, and Reno turned with an exasperated sigh, heading for the couch. Rude shook his head and began to tackle the dishes. He heard the television flip on, but paid it little heed until he recognized the sound of a newscast. Shit. Drying his hands, he walked over to the couch.

Reno was hunched against the corner, remote clutched in one hand while the other balled into a white-knuckled fist, beryl gaze fixed on the screen. Images flashed across it – fires, rubble, people running from the fallout, helicopters circling like vultures. Rude sucked in a breath, his own fingers curling into fists. It wasn't as if he- they hadn't seen it before.  The helicopter had been nearly back at HQ by the time it had happened in reality, and he'd been tending to Reno.  But... Images had been plastered all over the vidscreens at HQ, even in General Affairs. It was impossible to avoid. Reno had tried to, at first, collapsing on the office couch and staring at the ceiling, facing away from the screens as he chugged down energy drinks. Rude had known it was only a matter of time before his partner would go and guilt himself into doing something like this.

He eased himself down next to the redhead, carefully looping one arm around him to pull him against his side. Reaching for the remote with his free hand, he eased it out of Reno's grip and flipped the channel to something else, some old movie. Just something for background light and sound that wasn't … reality.

“Rude...”

“Don't.” He rested his head against the crown of vermilion spikes, ignoring the anger in his partner's tone. “Don't do this to yourself.”

“Damn it... How can... How can you...”

“It's done.” He felt chill, despite Reno's warmth. He was always so warm, even though he was a stick by Rude's standards. “It... It's over. We can't change it. Like any other mission. We complete it, we move on.” He had to think of it like that. Compartmentalize it, wall it off. It was put into a file, and that file was locked in a cabinet somewhere in the back of him mind. The lock for this one was broken, though, and he knew it.

“Fuck,” Reno snarled, curling against him, shoulders shaking. The hot dampness of tears fell against his skin. “You had to do it. You had to see it. I didn't... It's all blank. We unleashed hell and I don't remember shit, yo.”

“Even if you hadn't, result would have been the same. Stop blaming yourself. We're partners. That means you don't have to do everything by yourself. Even... no, especially the important stuff.” He preferred it to happen the way it did. He knew he couldn't say it, it would just set Reno off, but it was true. As far as he was concerned it was a small mercy, sparing his partner that horror. He knew Reno would never see it that way, and he wasn't in any mood to argue. There was no easy fix for this, and there shouldn't be. Even if he could somehow change the past, if Platefall was inevitable, then Rude would rather set it off himself again then put that burden on his partner's shoulders. He was designed to carry that sort of weight. Reno wasn't, even if he convinced himself otherwise. And shouldn't have to be. They each had their roles.

“Yeah...” Reno's voice was soft, shaky. “Partners. And Turks.”

“Damn right.” He leaned back, ignoring the soreness to keep Reno against him. They lay together, listening to the low sounds from the television and the drumbeat of rain in the background. Slowly, he felt the other relax, heartbeat steadying and breathing evening out. Good, he needed to rest again, but forcing him wasn't the right way to get Reno to do anything. Rude closed his eyes, tired again despite the caffeine. He didn't remember falling asleep, but when he opened his eye again the clock told him it had been two hours, and he was alone. He sat up carefully, scanning the room. He trusted Reno enough to know he wouldn't run off, not far at least, especially in the shape he was in, but that didn't mean the ginger idiot could just disappear on him like this. A quick look around revealed the shades covering the door to his tiny patio were half opened. Ah.

Sure enough, he found Reno out there, abusing the privilege of using a chair. Smoke curled around his head, rising from the cigarette dangling loosely in his slim fingers. The rain had stopped, though it was only temporary by the look of the dark clouds surrounding the pale blue break. Reno raised his head at the sound of the door sliding open, shooting Rude an almost apologetic glance.

“Thought you'd run off. This's supposed to be a non-smoking unit.”

“Sorry, yo. You were out cold, and... I know ya hate it, but just needed something... Remembered I had some in my suit pocket. Survived the ordeal, somehow. You'll be happy to know that I don't do it much at all anymore, yanno? Reserved for special, extra-shitty situations. Ya gotta admit, this qualifies.”

True, he hated the damn habit, but if ever there was a time for it... He briefly considered reminding the other that the pajama top was the one and only article of clothing he was currently wearing, but realized that he didn't feel like expending the energy. That, and Reno would probably find a new and even less convenient way to configure himself out of spite. At least the walls on either side kept the place fairly private. Rude settled into the other chair, realizing too late that it was damp, and held out a hand. Reno arched a brow at the gesture.

“Got another?”

“Hehe. What was that about a non-smokin' patio?” He pulled an open pack and lighter out of the pajama shirt pocket, ignoring Rude's scowl. “What, were else was I gonna keep 'em?”

Rude shook his head, taking one and allowing Reno to light it. Shit, it had been years since he'd smoked, and it was just as terrible as he remembered. Reno watched him with mild amusement. Well, at least he was almost smiling again. That was something.

“Whaddya think's gonna happen now?” Reno turned back to stare over the rooftops.

“I think..” He paused, still unused to the sensation of smoke, but he managed not to cough. “I think Rufus will be more reasonable. He's ambitious, we know that. But... within reason.” He sighed. “Our jobs aren't gonna get any easier. But, I don't think he'll ever go that far.” “Yeah. Shit, I hope you're right, yo.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Well, guess we got no choice, either way. Now we get to see what Shinra's like under the Boy Wonder.  Somethin' to look forward to.  A bright, shining new era or some such bullshit.”

Before Rude could respond, the sky opened again with a low rumble of thunder. There was an overhang, but once the rain started in earnest it would do little good. Snuffing the cigarettes, the two of them hurried inside once more. They stood by the door, watching the rain. Reno leaned against him, smelling of cigarette smoke and tea tree, messy cardinal's crest of hair tickling his shoulder. After a moment, Rude carefully looped an arm around the other's slender frame, mindful of his injuries. They didn't need a repeat of this morning.

“So, ya really didn't think I was into ya?” The question was sudden, but Reno's tone was maddeningly casual.

“Like I said, didn't think I was your type. You like to mess around. And I'm...”

“A hopeless romantic?”

“Nnngh. …. Yeah.” Ouch, called out.

Reno had the nerve to pout, pink lip jutting in offense. “How d'ya know I don't like hopeless romanticism?” He blinked up at Rude, and damn it even without liner he had incredible lashes. “You're fuckin' adorable, ya know that?”

“I am not... adorable.”

“Real convincin'.” Reno's pout turned into a smirk, which was almost worse. “I can do romantic. Fancy dates, candlelight, chocolates. It ain't rocket surgery, and I'll have ya know I clean up pretty damn well, yo.” He nuzzled Rude's chest. “C'mon then. Say somethin' romantic. Woo me.”

Rude didn't respond immediately, still trying to wrap his mind around rocket surgery. Wait, woo? “Uh...”

Reno breathed a laugh into his shoulder. “C'mon. Ya gotta have somethin', yeah?”

It was true, he did. Something he'd thought about often. Whenever Reno looked at him with those gorgeous stormy eyes. He'd never put it into words, though heaven only knows he'd wanted to.

“Your eyes,” he started slowly. “... They remind me of sea glass.”

“Sea glass?”

“Yeah. Used to find it a lot, growing up on Junon beach. Mixed in with the sand and shells, and whatever else washed up. Bottles and such that get worn down by the waves into these little smooth pebbles.” He carded his fingers through Reno's hair as he spoke, and the other hummed contentedly. “My siblings and I would go out and search for it. Get enough and you can fill vases and other things. It was kind of like a treasure hunt. If you were lucky you'd find brown, or red... that was even rarer. But the kind you'd finds most of … white, blue, and green. When I look into your eyes, it makes me think of it. Sea glass.” He paused. “Dunno if you know it, but... It's like your eyes change color in different lighting. Sometimes they're blue, and sometimes gray, and sometimes they even look green. They're beautiful.” There, he'd admitted it. And strung a lot more words together than he was normally wont to do.  And... If he didn't know any better, he could swear there was a dusting of pink on Reno's pale, bruised cheeks, but he buried his face against Rude's chest with a huffed laugh before he could be sure.

“God, ya really are a cheeseball, yanno?” The words were muffled against his skin.

“You asked.”

“So does that mean you're gonna ask me out on a date?”

“Might have to consider it. Once we're both back to our normal colors.”

“I don't know, purple's starting to grow on me, yanno?”

He couldn't help but smile. It had never been the most natural expression for him, and it would be even harder to do so, now. ...But if anyone could coax a grin out of him, it was Reno. He didn't know where he'd be without those flashing eyes edged in slashes of crimson. They were going to move forward. Even if it was difficult, even with the memories of Sector 7 on their heels. He wasn't alone. No, Reno would be there, racing ahead of him, that flaming hair like a beacon for him to follow after. Always in motion, always giving him a reason to keep looking forward. And he'd follow behind, just as always, ready to catch him if he stumbled. That was how it had been since the beginning, and that was how he liked it.

[omegarosemain]

Rating: Teen and Up

Archive Warnings:

Categories: M/F, M/M, M/M/F

Fandom: Castlevania (Cartoon)

Relationships: Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades/Adrian Tepes

Characters: Adrian Tepes, Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades, Belmont Family, Dracula Vlad Tepes, Lisa Tepes

Additional Tags: Time Travel, idk why i had to, (i do know why it’s cuz i wanted interactions with their families without them being dead), past trauma, reliving trauma in a way, it’s a slowburn maybe?, but i’m bad at delaying gratification so, the ot3 is a preestablish relationship, the first chapter just doesn’t start with them, okay?, no beta we die like women, hurt/comfort, fluff, play fighting, trevor’s sisters!, they’re powerful ladies

Language: English

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 1: Torturing Our Boi, Naturally

Trevor woke up in a soft bed.

He was relaxed in a way that had his body struggling to react to his initial panic at waking up somewhere that he hadn’t fallen asleep--that place, of course, being Adrian’s creepy dungeon. The sensation was odd enough to have him on alert. 

There were embers glowing in the hearth, and a series of faint creaks like someone was trying to maneuver quietly a few rooms away, and a large window to his left. It was pre-dawn, by the look of the sky, and he was likely on the second floor.

Maybe that wave of magic had knocked him out, and Sypha and Adrian carried him up to bed...but why not their bedroom? In fact, this didn’t look like any bedroom in the castle, even if it was strangely familiar. And why weren’t they there with him, at least one of them, instead of lurking a few rooms away?

Uneasy, he reached for any of the weapons he kept on him. There were none on his person, which would be understandable if Sypha or Adrian had put him to bed, but the weapons also weren’t at the bedside table. Both of them knew him to be paranoid without his weapons near.

Also, he was wearing a nightgown like one he hadn’t in years. Even since being a permanent residence of the castle and not being forced to sleep in his only set of clothes, Trevor would rather sleep naked or with only undergarments.

In his search for his weapons, all he came across was a small dagger beneath his pillow.

It was his dagger, most certainly. Itfit his hand perfectly and had the crest of the Belmont family on its hilt. It was the dagger he was first trained to defend himself with. A Beolmont’s first weapon had always been presented like any normal child might receive a doll, with as much ceremony as their first steps. 

It had also been lost to the fire that took his home and family twelve years prior.

He suddenly recognized the room he was in. It had been his since he was eight, and had moved out of the “nursery” that he and his twin sister had shared since they were infants. Catherine had redecorated the room and it had become hers, and he was left in the smallest room at the farthest end of the hall.

Trevor took a sharp breath. 

Released it.

Took another breath.

What the fuck was going on?

Sypha had warned that the magic of the hidden dungeon had been old and deep, and Adrian had admitted that his father had taken possession of the castle almost five hundred years ago and still hadn’t know all its secrets. Was the magic there primed to...what? Look into his memories and recreate the worst moment(s) of his life?

If that was the case, though, Trevor should be outside and it should be closer to midnight than morning, and it should be snowing. He also shouldn’t have the free will to break the movements he had made before.

So what was this? An elaborate mind trick? Some sort of...interactive vision of a past he tried desperately to forget?

((Or maybe, a small part of him thought, I really am back in the days before that fire. The normal aches from his accumulated injuries and old scars were suspiciously absent, and his old dagger was much too small to fit so well in his should-be-grown-up hands.))

Trevor slipped from the bed, bare feet making contact with the wooden floor. He shivered slightly, involuntarily.

He dressed quickly in clothes he knew were meant for the daily life of a Belmont--for the training, and movement, and practicality their every day demanded--rather than some of the more aristocratic pieces. His muscle memory directed him to the water asin heating by the hearth to wash his face, and some combination of memory and a long-forgotten habit had him smoothing down the bedding. He slipped on his house-shoes and tucked his dagger into his sleeve before leaving the room.

The hall was achingly familiar, lined with doors that lead to his sisters’ rooms. There were a few portraits on the wall of long-dead ancestors, and a few paintings he knew Gabrielle made in her free time. Used to make. Still might make.

This was the family wing of the house. Like no time had passed at all, not years of drinking himself into oblivion or sleeping out in the cold or repressing all memories of home, he knew where everything was.

Louise was at the mouth of the hall, then Gabrielle, then Colette. Rounding around was Trevor’s, then Annette and Eleanore’s, then Catherine’s across from Louise. Trevor’s parents were on the landing. They would be the first line of defense if they had an intruder, Trevor realized now, as well as providing a barrier for children attempting to sneak out.

He skipped the squeaky floorboard and the creaky fourth step that lead to the main part of the house.

“Annette, is that you?”

Trevor froze halfway down the steps, fighting the urge to pull his dagger on his own mother. Or the memory of her, or whatever it was that was happening to him.

“Trevor? What are you doing creeping about so early?”

He turned to see Helaine Belmont standing at the top of the stairs like a spectre of the past, her dark hair braided over one shoulder and still dressed in only a nightdress. She smiled softly at him, a little confused by her youngest. Trevor had been the type to have to be forcibly roused as a child, he recalled now. Usually Louise had been the one to pull him out of bed as just routinely as a daily chore.

Something horrible and bitter clawed its way up his throat.

“What day is it?” he asked, forcing the words to come.

“Wednesday, dear,” answered his mother, confusion giving way to concern. “Why?”

You all burn on a Wednesday night.

I am an orphan on Thursday.

The church wants us all dead.

“What’s wrong Trevor?”

Why couldn’t he just say it? Was this the magic of the dungeon room, forcing a re-living where you feel like you could change things, but always lacked the ability to do so?

His mother was descending toward him, reaching out and despite himself he fell into her embrace. With the stairs and his twelve-year-old height, he was able to bury his face against her chest.

She spoke to him, carding her fingers through his hair. She said assurances, instructed him to breathe, told him everything was alright.

“You’re not real,” he choked out, even as he held onto her.

“Of course I’m real.” Her voice was calm, and strong. “Just remember our check.”

“Your-your favorite-room-” he tried. “Your favorite room is the-the green room.”

“And your favorite weapon is the war hammer,” she answered evenly. And it had been, back when he was twelve and just being allowed to start specialized weapon training. If it was the day he feared it was, he should have been given his first lesson with the whip only a few weeks earlier.

Slowly his breathing slowed so that he wasn’t gasping for air like a drowned man. His mother’s arms remained around him. When was the last time he had been allowed jsut to exist like this? Drawing comfort without feeling as though he had to give some back?

There was movement at the landing that caused him to jump.

It was Annette, looking just as she had before she died. Sixteen or so, always an early riser. She had their father’s curls and the green eyes of their mother, her hair pulled back and her silver staff in hand. Going for an early-morning warmup.

“Morning, Mama. Trevor.” Her eyes lingered over Trevor, undoubtedly trying to suss out what was going on as she squeezed past them to get past.

Their mother responded in kind, her lack of explanation enough to spur Annette on her way.

Once she had disappeared to the back garden, their mother gently asked, “What was all that about, dear?”

Trevor found himself searching for what to say. Could he tell her? What would it accomplish, if he was nothing but a child?

“I-I...I think I might have…”

She remained silent, waiting.

“I-it was a nightmare, I think. So vivid it could have been real.”

“A memory?”

“A vision, maybe. I don’t know.”

Visions were not unheard of within their family, but they were rare and only came at the most dire of times.

She just hummed. “Let’s get something to eat.”

Trevor watched in a daze as his mother, still in her nightgown, shooed the cook away and began to prepare breakfast. The mug of tea she made for him sat before him, leeching warmth into his hands. He couldn’t bring himself to drink it.

One after another his sisters spilled in.

First was Colette yawning, then Gabrielle with too much energy for someone freshly awake, then Annette done with training. Eleanor stumbled in with horrendous bedhead, Catherine right behind, trailed by Louise.

As soon as the last three entered, Catherine squeezed into Trevor’s chair beside him. If he hadn’t felt so far away he was certain he would cry at the press of his twin sister’s body against his side, one he had thought he’d forgotten until he’d abruptly remembered.

Catherine and him had shared a room long past they had to, and they did every lesson together. She used to be the person he told everything to, even the stupid crush he’d had on the gardener’s son.

“Didn’t have to drag you from bed today,” Louise teased, ruffling his hair as she passed.

He didn’t move, couldn’t answer. Their mother had to excuse him, telling them that he’d had a rather frightening nightmare. Catherine pushed herself, if possible, closer.

“Sticky rolls?” Pavel Belmont asked as he entered the now full kitchen. “What’s the occasion?”

Trevor seemed to wake up at the voice of his father. The scent of cinnamon and baking pastry was in the air. The cup between his hands was no warmer than the rest of the room. Catherine lined up against him knee to hip to elbow to shoulder. His mother still in her night clothes while everyone else was dressed. The dagger up his sleeve and his feet that didn’t quite touch the ground. His entire family that had been dead for over a decade standing all around him.

He folded in on himself, a sob falling from his lips unbidden. Catherine startled away to be swiftly replaced by their father.

“What’s wrong-”

“Trevor-”

“Is he-”

His sisters seemed to be trying to say something at once, as Trevor gasped around his sobbing as it all seemed to break at once.

Their mother sternly hushed them and for a few moments all was silent aside from Trevor’s hitched breathes.

She was on Trevor’s other side, then, brushing his hair aside and wiping away the tears spilling down his cheeks.

“Now, then, I think you should tell us about that maybe-vision of yours, yeah?”

Trevor leaned into his father, feeling as his arms tightened just so around him at the prospect of a vision.

“The-the church. They’re gonna come tonight, with a mob. They’re gonna-gonna burn the house down, with-burn it with everyone inside.”

There was a gasp from someone, but Trevor was only picking up steam. It didn’t matter if this was only an illusion, it felt real--so real that he would never be able to live with himself if he didn’t try to save them.

“They’ll come after dark, in the snow. I-I snuck out, to see the first snowfall. I do it sometimes. I had to watch and listen--I couldn’t move I was frozen--and the fire burned for hours. I heard your screaming but they threw something on the fire--they barred the first floor windows and doors and stabbed Eleanore when she tried to jump from the second story--It wasn’t until the next morning when there was nothing left but ash that they pulled out the bodies. And I-I was left all alone in the woods and I knew everyone was dead. I stayed there for days, hoping someone else had gotten out but-”

“Shh, Trevor, it’s alright,” his mother soothed, something frayed in her voice. “Take a deep breathe, dear.”

“We have to leave,” he said frantically, clinging to her wrist. “Before they come, we have to go before they-”

“We will.”

And just like that he slumped like a puppet without its strings.

Many things could still go wrong, of course. The mob would realize quickly that there were no screams coming from the house, or anyone trying to leap from the windows. They could track them, like they tried to track Trevor when they finally realized they were missing one of the children through the mess that was his family home and the bodies which also belonged to the servants. It would be easier to follow all of them immediately rather than him, alone, days later, even if he had been hungry and traumatized.

Hearing that they were aware, though, knowing that things would be different, made all the possibilities bearable.

His mother stood and Trevor saw the frightened faces of his sisters. Even Louise, the eldest, the one who never seemed to be thrown off by the world around her, was shaken.

“Breakfast time, I think,” their mother said with a small clap of her hands. “We have a busy day ahead of us.” 

Their father followed her instructions of securing everyone a fresh sticky roll, tense but not afraid like his children.

“Mother-” Colette began, holding tight to her fork.

“Don’t worry, there is a plan in place for evacuation. There are, of course, our safe houses across the continent, and other places for us to go. Eat. We will be alright now that we have the warning.”

Trevor was too stressed to care much about the strained silence, but he did miss Catherine taking up half his chair.

[lenademonn]

All This Time - 2

*Summary: Elena used to be closed off and composed, always in control of her feelings and actions. She knew how to survive long before world ended and didn’t need anyone to keep her alive. Because attachments are liability, make you weak especially in this new world where dead are walking and living are more dangerous than before.

A slow burn Daryl Dixon x OC; from season 1 forward, ongoing. Angst, Violence, strong language, sarcastic humour and more.

Chapter 2

Day 44

I was having a dream. I knew that part of my psychological training was to recognize reality from the fantasy. And that was definitely the latter, because there was no way in hell that his strong hands were tracing my calves, his calloused fingers making me shiver, and that his mouth was pressed to my core, licking and sucking giving me the endless pleasure spreading from toes to the top of her head. I moved my hips up, bringing myself closer to his face, which earned me a low growl from his throat's depths.

"Elena," his voice did wonder to me, but I also realized that it came out near my ear, so way closer then it should be. "C'mon women, wake up!"

I opened my eyes and sat up straight, knife in hand, quickly pressed against someone's throat. "Whoa, easy, it's just me!" I blinked rapidly and saw familiar blue eyes in front of me, hand grasping my wrist, trying to ease the knife's pressure off himself. He was crouched next to my sleeping bag, ready for the day, tents fold open, allowing the flow of the fresh air. I pulled away and put my hand over my heart.

"Shit Daryl, this isn't how you wake up people, at least not me! I could fucking kill you!" My voice was still groggy from the sleep, and my mind was spinning from remnants of the dream he interrupted. Seeing him here in my tent just seconds after his image - 'Stop it silly!'

"Ya said to wake ya up when I'm goin' for a hunt. " I closed my eyes, trying to even out my breathing.

"Yeah, give me a ten, and I'll be there." He grunted and gave me one last glance before crouching out of the tent.

It was more than a month since we set up our camp at the quarry and my revelations. We were hunting and sending Glenn to gather necessary supplies, we had laundry and cooking duties and perimeter checks. It was usually myself and Dixon brothers in the woods looking for a game for the whole group. Surprisingly, the older brother wasn't that horrible after closer interactions. Of course, he still called me 'Blondie' and 'Sweetcheeks' or 'Dollface' and looked at my chest every opportunity he could get, but after what I told them about myself, he seemed to respect me a little bit more. Maybe because he was in the military once or perhaps because he has morals even if they are a bit twisted sometimes.

Today Merle was going on a run with Glenn, though, so it was just younger Dixon and me. We planned to make it an overnight trip and hunt for something more than only squirrels or birds. Andrea and Amy offered to take a boat they found by the lake and try to catch some fish, so hopefully, we will have enough food to last us for a few days by tomorrow afternoon. If Glenn will grab all the items from the list I gave him, I would smoke some of the meat and make a nice jerky. About the only thing, I didn't fuck up in the kitchen department.

I quickly changed my clothes, including wet panties, and I smiled, remembering a vivid dream from just a few moments ago. It's only because I spend so much time with him recently and because I didn't have sex for months. No need to read into it. Right?

Once dressed, I put on my reigns and stashed throwing knives inside holders, the gun secured on my waist belt. I checked my quiver and counted the arrows, in the backpack I put all the necessary items for an overnight hunting trip and rolled an extra sleeping bag to attach it to the top of the pack.

"How much longer woman?" Daryl's voice startled me, so I quickly left the tent, spotting him next to the entrance.

"Jeez I'm coming, let me just fix my hair" He gave me a funny look "You don't want me to get grabbed, do you?" It came out harsher then I intended, but I just ignored it and pulled my hair down and run my fingers through it. Blonde curls spread all the way to the small of my back, I could fix it before I came out of the tent, but after my dream, I felt the need to show them to Daryl.

Since that day in the woods, when I was gathering things to make my bow, I wanted to make an impression on him and see how much I can push him, and my hair was the thing I liked about myself the most, well just after boobs. I quickly pulled it into a simple plaid and then twisted it, on the top of my head, securing everything with a hair tie. I could feel man's eyes on me through all that process, but when I finally looked at Daryl, he turned around and started walking towards the woods.

*

We were walking for most of the day, caught a few squirrels and three perky rabbits when we finally decided to set a camp next to a stream we found. Now when I say we caught that game, I mean mainly Daryl. I am good with my homemade bow, but shooting unmoving targets during training isn't exactly this same as using it on animals. One of the rabbits was mine, but that was an accident, but Daryl doesn't need to know that.

We were tracking a deer for the past two hours, but it turned unsuccessful, and we could always pick up its trail tomorrow. Daryl was setting the perimeter with a string and some old cans so we would be notified of any movements during the night. I started skinning the animals putting the guts and useless parts into the plastic bin bag we brought with us.

"I'll run the bag out, circle around, and take the meat to the creek," I told Daryl, and after receiving a nod, I took off quickly and run for about fifteen minutes in the opposite direction of the tracks we saw today. If there is any deer here, the last thing we want is for the dead to eat it. I dropped the bag, dug a shallow hole in the ground, and ditched inside, covering it back up with dirt and leaves, then I circled back towards our night camp, whistled softly while passing why so Daryl would know it's just me and jogged to the water.

I started washing the meat and cut it into the strips, made sure that I cleaned it properly of any spare blood, and put it down on a clean rug on a boulder next to me to cool down. That's the problem with overnight trips, we had to make sure that whatever we caught won't go bad.

We actually worked well together, Daryl was quiet, but it wasn't uncomfortable unless I said something stupid, usually with a sexual context, which made him blush and tell me to shut up. Now that I was thinking about it, I wasn't that different from Merle, when it came to his younger brother, and that thought gave me goosebumps. I scooped the meat and went back towards the camp, bent over the lines to not make any unnecessary noise, and sat down next to a small fire Daryl started when I was gone.

"Pass me my bag, please," I asked him, and he reached towards it and took few steps, so he was next to me, sitting down next to me on the ground to share the work. I took my clean rug from the backpack and set it down on the rock in front of us, and then I passed Daryl a tub of salt. We worked quickly and quietly till everything was done, took a few pieces, and started cooking them while the rest was put into the zip bags and then to into my pack.

"So, how did you learn to hunt like that and using this crossbow?" I asked him and looked in his direction. He was sitting next to me, but with enough space between, and he was turning the meat around. His blue eyes met my grey ones, and his face had a blank expression. I knew that he didn't let people in, but I hoped that the question was innocent enough for him to answer.

"My old man and uncle." He started slowly turning his gaze toward the fire. "Money was tight, and my da usually drank it away, so Merle and I had to learn how to get our own food." Ok, so maybe that question wasn't as safe as I thought. I knew that the last thing he was looking for was pitty over a little boy who grew up in a though home. So I settled for an answer, which hopefully would release the tension.

"Well, sure as hell, it's handy right now. No matter the reasons, I'm glad you learned. I couldn't ask for a better hunting partner" He looked at me again with a slight frown. "'Cause, you know, Merle talks way too much." That finally made him smile. Alright, that wasn't a smile, small side smirk, but I knew I couldn't ask for more, not from him, not yet. That didn't mean I will stop trying.

"What about ya? Were ya really a fed?"

"Really?" I looked at him and slapped his arm. "We don't like that term, just for the future. Yeah, I was. Behavioral Analysis Unit to be precise."

"And what's that?" He side glanced at me, unsure what kind of job I actually did. My nose crinkled as I was thinking of explaining what I did in life before all this shit without sounding like I was bragging.

"Well, basically we were catching criminals, mainly serial killers, based on their behavior. You analyze how the victim was killed and left what was done to them, where was the body left. We were profilers." I was looking blankly in front of me now, thinking about days on the job and all the evil people I've met and spoken to. How many close calls I had with death and yet nothing compared to the nightmare we're living in now.

"Not the most useful skill in zombie apocalypse though. I cannot just talk my way out with walkers by telling them how watching their moma kill herself made them what they are now, right?" I looked at him with a serious face, even if my words were laced with sarcasm.

"Whatever lay down, I'll take the first watch." He stood up abruptly to check the perimeter, and I was looking at him, my gaze following his actions.

"Ok, but wake me up in few hours so we can swap you need your sleep as well, Dixon." It was still early, but I knew we'll be waking up before the first light, plus all this walking around in the woods was tiring, but something didn't sit well with me. Daryl finished our conversation abruptly, even though he seemed interested in my story before.

What did I actually know about younger Dixon? Not a lot, most time we spend together, we were quiet and shared only a few stories before coming back to camp, most of our talks focusing on subjects of hunting or Merle talking his mouth off about nothing in particular. The rest of the information I had was just observation and some comments from Merle, and I didn't know how much to believe in his words.

Alright, so Daryl is in his mid-thirties and lived in Georgia his whole life, most of it with Merle, grabbing some odd jobs before they moved on. I suspected all that moving around was because older Dixon was doing drugs and owed money to many people or was trying to avoid jail time.

But that doesn't explain Daryl's social awkwardness and how guarded he behaves. He definitely is an introvert and doesn't like to be touched even when his brother puts an arm on him, I noticed Daryl goes still and tense. That suggests some sort of abuse, but not from Merle, no, he wouldn't be able to look at him like he does. Daryl actually looks up to his big brother.

I let a low growl of frustration. This new world makes me go crazy; I could separate myself from any personal emotions before all of this, but now we had people to look after, people to protect, and as much as it was flattering, I wasn't used to someone depend on her in that way. I started to care for those people, and my weird fascination with Daryl Dixon was undoubtedly unhealthy. I shouldn't be so invested in trying to get to know him. And for sure, I shouldn't give a damn if I hurt his feelings or stirred something from his past.

"Ya thinkin' so loud, that ya'll attract all the geeks from this woods." His low voice startled me, and I sat up in my makeshift bed. Daryl was sitting across from me, on the other side of our little campsite, cleaning his crossbow, eyes not leaving the weapon, but I could tell that he was alert, ready for anything to make a move in the dark. When I didn't reply straight away, he quickly glanced in my direction, one brow risen in a silent question. I let a small sigh escape my lips as I run my hand over my face.

"What I said before." The words I spoke were quiet and soft, eyes locked on him, watching for any body language changes. "I know that we don't tell each other a lot, but I'd like to think that you don't mind my company. The last few hunting trips were pleasant, and you didn't call me stupid in like a week, so that's progress."

I watched his lips twitch a little making me form my own small smile on my full lips. "But that last comment, about how I'd sometimes talk to suspects..." I stopped when Daryl stiffened, and a muscle on his face twitched while he clenched his jaw. It was very subtle, he was good, very good at hiding his emotions. But I was very good at what I was doing before the world went to shit, so I noticed it even in the dark of the night.

"There, that was this same reaction you have now. Now I don't want to pry... "

"Then don't" He interrupted me, his voice harsh, hands grabbing his weapon just a little bit harder than necessary. I looked down at my hands, thinking on how to play it out. Talking to Daryl was like a long and complicated chess game, one silly move, and checkmate.

"Alright, I just wanted you to know that I didn't mean anything by it." With that, I laid back down, turning on my side, so I was facing away from him, giving a man some sort of privacy.

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