#but he's still decent enough to plonk on here

[welcometojurassicparker]

So, I'm going to play dnd for the first time tonight, and sketched this cretin of a high-elf. His name is Luran and he's striving for world domination, because he's weird like that. The shape of his face looks a bit off, but idk I can't draw lol. Concept art or something.

[vibraniumavenger]

Ties That Mend -Part 2

Find part 1 here.

The next morning, there was complete silence. You walked through the tower, expecting to bump into somebody but you didn't. Arriving at the kitchen, you poured yourself a cup of coffee and sat at the table, looking over the files Fury had sent you. A little while later, Nat walked into the kitchen and plonked herself in the chair next to you. She groaned as you sipped your coffee, the noise clearly disturbing her. Giggling, you stood up and poured her a cup. She took it gratefully and thanked you before taking a sip herself. 

Clint and Sam were the next to join. Clint placed himself next to Nat, receiving a death glare as he took her coffee and began consuming it. You stood again, pouring another two cups and handing them to the guys. "Nat, how can you still look so good? You're hungover and you still look like a model. I'm sure I'd look nowhere near that good." You joked. Sam piped up, "Baby, I bet you'd look as flawless as always." He sent a wink and you scoffed. "You on the other hand, you look like shit this morning." You laughed, causing Clint to laugh also. It wasn't long before everybody joined you at the table, drinking coffee as they fought off their hangover. Tony on the other hand was not drinking coffee, he chose something a little stronger. 

"Hey, what happened to your face?" Sam asked. He shrugs and takes another sip of his liquor. "I don't remember, I asked Jarvis for any footage but there's nothing. Thanks for fixing me up Bruce, I owe you. Well, technically you owe me. I mean, I let you live in my tower for free and supply you with things but it's fine. Now we're even." Bruce just rolled his eyes, clearly not paying attention to anything he was saying. 

You were partially relieved, you didn't want him to know it was you. Another part of you wanted him to know. You wanted him to acknowledge that although he hurt you, you were decent enough to put all of it aside to help him. You sigh, standing up and walking to the bathroom before jumping in the shower, attempting to keep your distance from him. 

As soon as you were gone, it started. “So, now that she’s been here a while, what do you guys think of her?" Clint asked, it wasn't meant in a malicious way. He was genuinely curious. "A girl that is secretive and dislikes Tony? I love the kid." Nat joked. Steve was next to make a comment. "She seems respectable. She is very secretive though. I can't access any files on her, they're all top secret. I'm not too sure we can trust her." The conversation continued back and forth between the members, Tony agreeing with everything they said. It's not like they were being too horrible, they were just discussing your disrespect to Tony and your secrecy. To them, this was a normal conversation. To you, it was hurtful. Not only did they not trust you, they spoke about you behind your back. "I can't stand her, she acts as if she's better than everybody else. She doesn't care for anybody but herself." Tony remarked, wanting to join in the conversation. You walked into the room, silencing them all. Obviously, you had heard everything. You didn't want to show them how hurt you felt, so you kept a straight face as you threw your towels in the wash. 

"What's everybody talking about?" You asked. They hesitated, before mumbling something about a mission. You couldn't help but let out a laugh at their stupidity. Sending a glare to Tony, he swallowed nervously. He knew you heard. He knew you better than anybody, he could read it all over your face. Luckily, Steve stood, breaking everybody's silence. "Y/N, I think it's time we start training you." You avoid everybody's gaze as you turned around and walked back to your room, pulling on your training clothes. You went down to the training room, warming up as you waited for the others. They all joined shortly after, still looking guilty. Steve was the first one to step onto the mat. You started off with a few soft hits, before deciding to have no mercy. Sure, he was huge but you were determined. You fought great, dodging each hit he threw at you and then threw your own until you sent him back and onto the floor by landing a successful drop kick. The team clapped as Steve stood up, congratulating you before speed walking to the bench. The rest of the team backed out, so Natasha volunteered. Nat smirked, knowing she was able to floor you in seconds without much effort. She stood on the mat, reading your face and body language before throwing her first hit. To say you were equally matched would be an understatement, you were definitely in her league. The two of you fought continuously, not backing down. It went on until you decided to pull a move that would end it. You managed to position her correctly before throwing her over your shoulder and onto the floor, pinning her down with your legs around her neck until she slapped your leg repeatedly, indicating she was done. Everybody else was surprised, Nat never backed down with them. She stood, shaking your hand before stepping off the mat. Tony laughed, glaring at you intensely. "Got something to say?" You questioned, feeling a sudden burst of bravery. He shook his head as he walked over to you. "Where did you learn to fight like that?" You ignored his question momentarily, before you realised he was stood before you on the mat. "Why? Do you feel threatened, Stark?" You taunted. Just as he was about to throw a punch, you sent a swift punch to his throat, winding him successfully. You turned to walk away, leaving the team in awe. You felt a small sense of pride, but also plenty of guilt. Throwing yourself onto your bed, you made sure to avoid everybody for the rest of the day.

The next few days were uneventful. You kept yourself to yourself, hiding out in your room unless needed elsewhere. Steve, Bucky and Clint were called out for a mission which made it easier as there were less people to avoid. Tony was pissed you embarrassed him, he made sure you knew he was still pissed. He tried to get under your skin in every way possible. The rest of the team were sitting at the table once again. Your footsteps were heard as you made your way to the kitchen. Tony took this as his chance. "Natasha, I just want to say… you're the closest thing I've ever had to a sister. We've had our differences but you're actually a pretty decent human being. I'm proud to call you family." You could only roll your eyes, Natasha laughed as a confused expression plastered her face. "Stark, you trust me about as far as you can throw me." She confirmed. Tony once again tried to keep up the charade by practically kissing her ass for a few more minutes. You took your bottle of water, before walking back to your room. Natasha followed and walked into your room with you. 

"So, I know we haven't really talked properly since you joined. I think we should get to know each other." She suggested. You scoffed, you knew what she was trying to do. "Why? So you can find out whatever secrets I have? I know you don't trust me. None of you do. You all made that clear when you spoke about me behind my back. Nobody can access my files, Fury and I agreed to keep my life a secret. There's some things that are better off unknown and whatever is on my file needs to be forgotten. Trust me, it's for everybody's own good." Natasha looked you over, attempting to read you. "You know everything about us. You expect us to trust you when we have no idea who you are. You could be anybody. We don't even know your last name!" You hesitated for a moment, before answering. "Howard. My last name is Howard. Y/N Howard. Happy?" Nat took a deep breath, clearly annoyed. "Well, Y/N Howard… a last name just isn't going to cut it. We need to know if we can trust you. Where did you even learn to fight like that?" You stayed silent, hoping she would leave. "Fine. But we're not done with this." She walked out, back to the rest of the team as you locked your door once again. 

"Howard. That's her last name. You think it's legit?" Nat asked the others. Tony looked frozen, the last name clearly hitting a nerve. Everybody shrugged, unable to answer. “There has to be a way to find out more. What if we steal her file? Natasha’s basically a pro at that, she could access it easily. And, not to mention with Starks technology, it’d be easy.” Sam suggested. Nat smirked, it could work. “Unless you guys forgot, Steve already tried that. I don’t think there’s another way.” Tony stated. This lead the team to sigh, they'd get to the bottom of this. They were sure of it.  

Pepper knocked on your door, you knew her knock so you didn't hesitate to open it and let her in. She sat on your bed, waiting for you to start talking. "If you want to talk, I'm here. You and I both know the truth." She reassured. You shot her a small smile before clearing your throat. "I don't know what to do, I can't stand it, I can't stand being in the tower with him. It's becoming a toxic environment and I don't think I can take much more of it. Everybody hates me, I'm pretty sure they're on to me. It's only a matter of time." You panicked, your breathing starting to increase rapidly. Pepper grabbed your hands, pulling you back to reality. "Y/N, it's fine. You need to stay calm, okay? You have me, I'll be here no matter what. You and I both know what's he's like. He's too stubborn, it's one of his many flaws. Sometimes, I could just throttle him. But, deep down he's hurt. He masks it, drowning his sorrows until he can no longer feel them. Truth is, he feels guilty about what happened. He's just too stubborn to admit that he's sorry. If he could, he would apologise right now and patch things up between you. Please, don't take anything he says personally. He just… he's conflicted. Help him. He needs you more than you know." And with that, she hugged you before walking out. You sat thinking to yourself for the rest of the night. 

The next morning, Tony announced he was throwing another party. This meant you would be sat in your room all night, avoiding everything. You announced you wouldn't be attending but they all refused. "Howard, is it? Your attendance is mandatory." Tony smirked, clearly being sly before pulling you aside and whispering in a provocative manner. "If you don't attend, everybody will know." Your face expressed exactly how you felt. You were beyond annoyed, knowing you would have to attend for your own good. Nat, Wanda and Pepper asked if you'd join them on yet another shopping trip. Swiping Tony's credit card from his wallet, Nat smirked and you all followed her to the car that was waiting outside. You thanked Happy as he shut the door behind you, starting the journey to the shopping centre. You left the car upon your arrival, thanking Happy once again and rushing inside before the others. You decided to start shopping straight away, distancing yourself from them. You knew they'd be looking for you, but you didn't care. The only one you truly got on with was Pepper and she understood. You didn't want to go overboard, so you threw a few things into your basket and paid as quickly as you could before rushing out of the store. Just as you did, you bumped into them. Nat looked at you suspiciously, but brushed it off. "We thought we'd lost you." Wanda commented. "Yeah, well one can dream." you remarked before turning and walking again. They followed this time, not letting you out of their sight. 

They tried on a few different dresses, asking for opinions before deciding on the one they preferred. "What're you gonna wear tonight?" They asked you. You just shrugged. "Probably just jeans and a shirt." You admitted. You weren't one to dress up. "No. Absolutely not. I'm not allowing it." Natasha dragged you to the mannequin that stood in the window, the blue dress hugging its figure in all the right places. "This would look perfect on you." You shook your head but Nat was already undressing the doll. "Here. Try it on." She pushed you into the changing room, giving you no other option but to try it on. You did as she asked, throwing it on as quickly as you could before walking out. She smirked, approving almost instantly. After changing back to your casual clothing, you went to the checkout. As Nat pulled out Tony's credit card, you declined. Using your own, you paid. 

You made your way back to the tower, once again throwing yourself into your room. The party was a few hours later, by that time you were somewhat prepared. Pepper complimented you, making you smile. You thanked her, complimenting her back before heading down to the gathering. It was loud and crowded, your least favourite environment. You could feel how your body tensed, uncomfortably. You were approached by Sam, you had already rolled your eyes multiple times by the time he reached you. Handing you a drink, you laughed. "You know I don't drink, what's this for?" His face dropped, “Oh shoot, I forgot, my bad. I just thought you looked a little uncomfortable, and I wanted to help you loosen up.” You looked around at everybody else. You watched the way everybody danced, the way some stared at you, the anxiety slowly beginning to rise. Tony caught your eye, his smirked faltered and he began making his way over to you. Almost as if you felt the need to rebel against him, you took the drink and put it to your lips, preparing yourself to take a sip. His face changed completely and you took satisfaction in that. You hesitated before downing the liquid quickly. It burned as it travelled throughout your body, your face scrunched and you instantly regretted it. But did you stop? No. No, you didn't. Instead, you took another shot. “Woah, slow down there, I don’t think you should do that.” You laughed, but it wasn’t humorous, there was no emotion behind it. “I can’t take it anymore, Sam. I need to finally feel free, I’m exhausted. I need this.” A few drinks later, your head was spinning, you felt nauseous and right when Natasha sat beside you, you were pretty sure you were about do something stupid but your mind wasn't matching with your actions. Your blurred vision made it harder to concentrate. “Are you drunk?” You tried to focus on her, but it proved to be incredibly difficult. “Unfortunately, I believe I am,” you slurred. Natasha smirked to herself, as much as she didn’t agree with doing this, she couldn’t help but use this moment as an advantage. “Who are you?" Natasha asked. You were about to answer, but Tony stopped you. "Enough. I want nothing to do with this anymore. She told you she doesn't drink, and now you’re using this as a chance to investigate who she is? Do you know how wrong that is? That isn't fair. If she doesn't want you knowing, there's probably a good enough reason. Come on Y/N, let's get you out of here." You shook your head. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Not after the way you've treated me." You slurred. Tony picked you up, your sloppy hits did nothing to him as he carried you to the elevator. Pepper excused herself from her current conversation, and followed them. “Tony, what the hell happened?” Tony let out a loud sigh, “I don’t know. She got drunk, this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have made her come, she doesn’t drink and I’m the reason. I think I fucked up, Pep. How can I fix this?” Pepper rubbed his shoulder, “Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? I’ll take care of her. You go get some rest, we can figure this all out tomorrow.”   After Tony had left, Pepper encouraged you to drink water, helped you change into pyjamas and lay you in bed, careful not to hurt you. “The whole room is spinning, Pepper.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at this, “I know. You’ll feel better once you’ve slept.” You let a tear slip, “I wish things were different. I wish he cared as much as I did.” Pepper sighed, “It may seem that way, but believe me, Y/N, he cares more than you think.” She brushed the hair out of your face, but you were already unconscious. She left without another word, heading the bedroom to check up on Tony. Pepper approached him, smiling widely. "I'm proud of you, you know that?" She praised. "You did the right thing." Tony kissed her, before undressing and crawling into his bed. "Just tell the others I wasn't feeling good. Party's over." Pepper agreed, walking away to pass on the message. The tower was evacuated, leaving silence as the team made their way to their rooms once again.

When you woke up the next day, your head was pounding, and your mouth felt like sandpaper. You could barely pull yourself out of the bed, but you knew you needed painkillers and coffee. You practically dragged yourself to the kitchen and poured yourself a cup, and throwing back the painkillers to nurse your hangover. Plopping down at the table, you sent a text to Fury, asking for a meeting. 

You stormed into Tony's office, startling him. "I've asked you many times before, this is the last time I'm asking. Remove me from Stark Industries, I don't want any income, I don't want any association with it. I'm better off without you and this company, I'm better off without all of you." Tony swallowed the lump in his throat. "You're entitled to half of the company, it’s what they would've wanted… you know that." He admitted. You couldn't help but laugh at this. "No, it's not what they would've wanted. They would've wanted you to take cake of me correctly, they would've wanted you to run the company correctly. Instead, you screwed up. All you ever do is screw up." You yelled, slamming your hands onto his desk. "I want no part of it anymore, I can't do it. We failed them… and you failed me. I'll sign whatever you need me to, just remove me." You walked out, bumping into Nat on the way out. "What was that about?" She asked, but you ignored her. You walked yourself out of the tower, taking one of the cars to the compound, before navigating your way to Fury.

 "Agent, how can I help?" He asked, slightly shocked to see you. "I want to be removed from the Avengers Initiative." You demanded. "I'm afraid that isn't an option." This caused you to sigh, clearly frustrated. "I can still work for S.H.I.E.L.D. but I refuse to work with the Avengers." His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, he wasn't in the mood. "Is there a problem I'm not aware of? Because, if not then I need you need to suck it up." This angered you even more. "Just place me on any other team!" "Frankly, that's not an option. There is no other team. Unless you would like to join Hydra. I'm sure I could put your name forward. They'd do anything to infiltrate us." Admitting your defeat, you apologised before excusing yourself. 

Back at the tower, things were tense. The team were aware of their mistakes, they apologised; much to their dismay. You were forced to forgive them, but the atmosphere remained thick with tension. Tony was gathering paperwork in his office when you approached him once again. "I'm sorry about my little outburst earlier. I didn't mean those things I said. If it's okay with you, I'd still like to have my share." Tony nodded, giving you a small smile before you walked back out to your room. 

The next few months were uneventful, you went on missions, you spent time with the team and you were still hiding the fact you were a Stark a secret. You and Tony had decided small talk was best, but you still clashed. The team questioned the possibility of you being in love with him, but they had no idea. Soon, nobody thought anything of it as they had grown accustomed to your behaviour. It was the day you both avoided everybody and failed to leave your room that caused alarm bells to sound. Your rooms were on lockdown, neither of you could pull yourselves together long enough to face the team. Your cries weren't ignored, the team grew worried. You pulled on your oversized MIT sweatshirt and wiped your puffy face over before making your way to Tony's room. You knocked a familiar rhythm and his door swung open, revealing his fragile appearance. He took one look at you before pulling you into a hug. A hug you had missed. One thing was for sure, you had your differences but in times like this, all you needed was your big brother. 

A/N: Thank you so much for your support! This is part 2, as previously stated I had started on this many years ago, I'm struggling with writers block currently, so I'm just changing and editing my current fics, in order to get back into the flow of things. If you have any suggestions, let me know! I'm unsure of where I'm taking this one, so if you'd like an input, feel free! I appreciate you taking the time to read this! Enjoy :)

Taglist: @vicmc624

[afairytalestray]

@storyweaverofgondor‘s Cats-pril day 14: rock ‘n’ roll. This was actually one of the first things I wrote for this event, so I’m very happy to finally get to share it! Also on Ao3 here.

..

Mungojerrie greeted the day by whacking his head off the top of his bunk yet again. He let out an angry grumble. Bunk beds sucked. Buses sucked. Bunk beds on buses double sucked squared. Being on the road was not all it was cracked up to be at all. But it was “all part of the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle”, apparently. He loved playing music, and being in a band with his best friends. He loved performing, and concerts, and the roar of the crowds… just not being on tour. 

He gave his phone a quick glance. He had a whole bunch of notifications, but none of them were the messages he really wanted. Unsurprising, but still disappointing. He flomped back onto his pillow. When he, Tugger, Teazer, and Bomba had started playing together, they had never expected to actually get big. Now it seemed like everyone knew who they were! It was mad that when he turned on the radio, there was a very real chance he’d hear himself! That was awesome, and when the label had suggested a tour, Jerrie had thought it’d be great. It was, mostly, he just hadn’t thought he’d get so homesick.

Well, kind of homesick. The only family he really had was Teazer, and she was here with him. That was awesome, but damn did he miss Coricopat. Jerrie loved Cori with every fibre of his being, but Everlasting, he was so awful at checking his phone. His wonderful boyfriend was forever getting his head stuck in the astral plane or whatever, and forgetting that the thing needed to charge. This was normally not a problem. He was used to it. They lived together, so he got to see and speak to Cori all the time, to plonk his head in his lap while he was meditating, and feel the glorious scratch of his claws on his scalp. The fact that Cori was a trained masseuse was an added bonus, Jerrie just loved feeling close to him.

Teazer and Bomba didn’t get it at all. Teazer was living her best single life, and Bomba’s girlfriend Demeter was their travelling makeup artist, so was always nearby. Tugger got it, kind of. His boyfriend Misto was a principal dancer at the National Ballet, so their schedules often clashed, but Misto was half decent at checking his phone. Jerrie couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous when he saw Tugger glued to his screen.

But there was no point in getting moody about it. Cori loved him, this he knew, and that meant everything. Jerrie hopped down from his bunk, and padded to the front of the bus. They had been driving through the night to get to their next tour stop; where that was, Jerrie had long since lost track. He had no doubt it would be nice enough. Peering through the windscreen, he saw they were approaching a city he didn’t recognise. 

“Be there in 20,” the driver told him. Jerrie plastered a grin over his face and went to get dressed.

He was slightly happier by the time their bus rolled to a stop. Bomba had informed him that they were stopping for a week here - a few nights of work and then a few days break - so they got to stay in a hotel that didn’t have wheels and had proper beds! Jerrie couldn’t wait. He hopped off the bus with a new spring in his step, and took a deep breath of fresh, not-bus air.

“Mungojerrie.”

Eh? Jerrie heard his name, and spun round. He knew that voice! Only one Cat ever full-named him. He gave a bellow of delight and charged forwards, launching himself onto Coricopat, who was walking up the street towards him. Cori let out that soft little laugh Jerrie adored so much, and Jerrie kissed him all over his beautiful face for several minutes.

“Corks! What are you doing here? I missed you! How’d you know we were here?” Jerrie gasped.

“Is it so astonishing that I know your tour schedule, Jerrie?” Cori hummed, leaning into the very tight hug Jerrie was now trapping him in.

“I don’t know my tour schedule!”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Cori laughed quietly.

“But like, what are you doing here? Did the physic powers tell you that I missed you, or was it the gazillion messages on your phone?”

“I missed you and I wanted to see you,” Cori said simply. “I knew you had a few days off here, and I thought you might want to spend them together. Did I not tell you this?”

“No!” Jerrie squawked.

“Oh, I must have forgotten to respond to your messages. I thought I had. I’m here now, does this suit you?”

“OF COURSE IT DOES!” Jerrie picked him up and twirled him around, before kissing him again. Everlasting, he loved this Cat so much. How did he always know exactly what Jerrie needed? Sure, he could be better at answering his phone, but Jerrie wouldn’t trade him for the world.

[fruitcoops]

You write Moody so well! I would love to see something where Moody and Remus talk for the first time after Coops was outed. Whether it happens after the meeting Coops had with Arthur and Alice or after the all star break. I feel like they have such a good relationship!

Thanks! This was partially inspired by watching The Karate Kid (1984) last night, so I hope y'all are ready for some mentor hurt/ comfort this fine Sunday! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for mentioned forced outing

Remus was almost done. He only had a few more drawers to clean out. The whiteboards were as squeaky and shiny as the day he arrived; the desk had a few more dents and coffee stains decorating the surface, but overall it looked decent. He still couldn’t bring himself to take the pictures off, though. It was his life. His friends. He just couldn’t do it.

The sleeve of his ancient Wisconsin hoodie was still damp when he smudged it under his runny nose. No tears had fallen, but he could feel the maelstrom gathering in his throat. Everything he had worked for, gone because of one stupid mistake.

Not Sirius, of course. Sirius would never be a mistake. It was Remus’ fault they had been caught in the first place.

He stared around his office in misery—no official notice of his layoff had arrived, but he knew it would come, and it was always better to be prepared. Maybe it would hurt less if he did it himself, one final ‘fuck you’ to the homophobes before he trooped off with his tail between his legs.

The tiles were cold through the seat of his comfiest jeans. He tucked his knees closer to his chest.

A quiet knock at the door interrupted the suffocating silence. He didn’t answer.

“Kid?”

Remus’ lower lip wobbled and he croaked out a ‘come in’ with as much strength as he could muster; it wasn’t much. The door opened with a creak—he had never gotten around to having it fixed, after all—and uneven footsteps shuffled in, followed by a sigh as his visitor settled next to him on the floor.

“You have a chair, you know.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“Not all of us have young knees. Doesn’t your ass hurt?”

Remus nodded.

Moody huffed through his nose and hoisted him up by the arm. “Well Christ, kid, up you come. You’re awfully dense for a beanpole. What, you got concrete for bones or something?”

“No,” Remus mumbled as he followed Moody across the hall and allowed himself to be plonked down in the soft chair by the door. It was his favorite of both their offices; as far as he knew, Moody never let anyone else sit there. His chest seized as a sob tried to fight its way out. “I’m sorry.”

Moody shot him a look at he got comfortable in the adjacent seat. “For what?”

“I dunno.”

“I don’t like useless apologies, Lupin.”

Remus sniffled. “I should’ve told you.”

“Says who?” Moody snorted. “Your business is your business. You’re a bright young man, none of this is your f—oh. Okay, Lupin, easy does it.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus blubbered as the tears finally started to fall. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like crying, but I’m kind of a wreck right now.”

Moody made a few soft shushing noises, inching closer until he could wrap an arm around Remus’ shoulders and pat his arm like he was trying to soothe a frightened dog. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

The sobs were near-silent; Remus never cried loudly if he could help it, and he already felt bad enough for dripping his perpetual raincloud all over Moody’s office. He caught his breath after a few hitching inhales and scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Remus pulled his knees up again and hugged them tight to his chest. “I haven’t called my parents yet.”

“Did they know?”

His heart gave another painful yank. “Nobody knew. Nobody. And—and now it’s everywhere and people won’t leave me alone and I’m gonna get fired—”

“Woah, deep breaths,” Moody interrupted gently, giving him a little shake. “You’re not getting fired.”

“Yes, I am.” Everything felt gross and cold and sad.

“Who told you that?”

“Coach said it might happen ‘cause I’m a doctor.”

Moody scanned his face for a moment, then reached over and grabbed a box of tissues off his desk. “First of all, take some of these. You look like a mud puddle, Lupin. It’s very unsettling. Second, this is a complicated situation and I wouldn’t be too quick to make assumptions. And third, I’ll go to bat for you.”

He paused midway through blowing his nose. “What?”

“You’re a good man. An excellent PT. The best colleague I’ve ever had, actually. You know your shit and if they try to fire you over this, I’m not going to make it easy for them.”

More tears threatened to fall over the edge of his itchy eyes. “You’d do that for me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Moody grumbled.

“He hasn’t called.”

“Who?”

“Sirius.” Remus swallowed hard and, before he could second guess himself, leaned his head on Moody’s solid shoulder. “I’ve called him 23 times and he hasn’t answered a single one. He just…left. Didn’t even look at me.”

“He’s making a mistake.”

“I ruined his life.”

“Hey.” Moody’s tone turned stern. “You don’t get to talk shit about yourself in my office. This is a Lupin Appreciation Zone.”

Remus’ shoulders shook and he closed his eyes; he wished he could just dissolve into the floor and stay there until someone mopped him up. Everything hurt. The world sucked. Moody—

Moody was petting his hair.

The tears stopped abruptly and Remus hiccupped in pure confusion. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m bad at comfort, kid, gimme a break.” The sat in silence for a few seconds as Moody continued to pat his head and muss his hair, which was in dire need of a cut but just long enough to cover his eyes when it was pushed forward. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, actually. How did you…?”

Something akin to embarrassment tinted Moody’s cheeks and he cleared his throat. “My cat hates thunderstorms.”

“Oh. Cool. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks,” Remus said again, much quieter. Moody’s office always felt safe; all the clutter was in its proper place, clean and homey. The touch of familiarity was more of a comfort than he cared to admit. He sat up straight and wiped his face clean, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “If I do get fired—”

“You won’t.”

“If I do, I wanted to say thank you for changing my life.” The words hung in the air. “You—without you, I would never have felt at home here. You were the best mentor I could ever ask for and I’m never going to forget that. You did more than just teaching me routines. Thank you.”

Moody cleared his throat again. “Tissues.”

Remus silently passed the box.

“If anyone gives you shit for being gay, you call me and I’ll take care of it,” Moody said once the tissue had disappeared into the depths of his pocket.

Remis blinked at him. “Are you offering to hurt someone for me?”

“I’ll deny it in court.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he laughed. “Fuckin’ hell, this is a mess. I’m a mess.”

“You just got outed and your boyfriend ditched you in an airport,” Moody said bluntly, fixing Remus with a look. “You’re allowed to be a mess. Now go talk to Lily. Call your mom. Do whatever you do that makes you so sunshiney, and then we’re gonna unpack all your shit and put it back where it belongs.”

Remus swallowed hard. Fuck it. Fuck the NHL, fuck the homophobes, and fuck being sad.

Moody narrowed his eyes. “You want to use the kicking bag, don’t you?”

“I really, really do.”

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

“Stupid—fucking—son of a bitch!” Remus gritted out as the beat-up and half-folded gym mat squeaked under his assault. It was two inches of plastic and therapy—he was 90% sure Moody had stolen it from a middle school gym, and it had rapidly become the team’s favorite way of winding down after a frustrating day.

“Harder!” Moody barked behind him.

Remus wound up and slammed his foot into it again. “I worked too damn hard to be kicked out for this bullshit!”

“Damn right you did!”

The kicking bag creased in the center. “And I’ve got too much student debt to walk out of here like—like a coward!”

“Yes, you do!”

His grief had burnt off at least five minutes prior. Remus was well and truly pissed now. “And it’s nobody’s goddamn business who I kiss!”

“That’s the spirit!” Moody cheered.

“And maybe his face is stupidly pretty!” Remus threw his shoulder against the mat before he resumed kicking it. “And, yeah, he has really nice shoulders and a great ass—”

“Lupin—”

“But fuck him for leaving me in an airport! What kind of douchebag does that to a guy? I’m hot and smart and nice and I can date whoever the hell I want if he doesn’t appreciate that!”

“That’s certainly one approach!”

Remus stopped with a harsh exhale and dropped one last halfhearted kick to the base. “I don’t want anyone else, though. And I miss his stupid pretty face.”

A hand, heavy but gentle, squeezed his shoulder. “Then go get him.”

[nagito-kissmaeda]

Arcade - Komaeda x Reader

ミ☆  Just a silly thing I wrote about an arcade employee being baffled while Komaeda clears out all the machines lol ミ☆ I’ve been feeling kind of down about my writing so i just wanted to do something fun. It’s not very good haha. I’m tired and i can’t write good asjfkakd

Night shift at the arcade is usually pretty quiet. Most people start leaving around dinner time and while there are usually still some hardcore gamers lurking around until the AM, most of them only come in on Friday’s or weekends. So the job is usually easy breezy, most nights you lean up on the counter and browse the internet on your phone until your shift ends.

Tonight though, you have been acutely watching as this guy moves from machine to machine. Absolutely clearing them out. You’ve never seen anything like it. Presently, you are crouched behind a claw machine filled with Hello Kitty plushies as this guy slips two bucks into the Big Bass Wheel cabinet. Your eyes drift over to the last cabinet he used, the Wizard of Oz coin pusher. It is empty , you have never seen that happen in the whole time you’ve worked here. You weren’t even sure it could happen.

The guy spins the wheel, it spins and spins and spins. Jackpot. Your eyes narrow, a jackpot isn’t too uncommon, it honestly isn’t even worth that many tickets, but then he nonchalantly slides in another two dollars and hits jackpot again . This is starting to get suspicious.

The machine is spitting out tickets now, so many tickets. Even the guy looks surprised, you are definitely surprised. Two jackpots is not worth that many tickets, but they just keep coming and coming. Machine fault? Must be. The guy looks almost resigned at this point, sighing unhappily as the tickets keep spewing out, like they’re wasting his time and not like this was a superhuman feat of luck. Then, the machine starts smoking.

“Shit!” You hiss, jumping up from your hiding place behind the claw machine and dashing over to the guy before anything catches on fire. You’ve caught him by surprise, he probably didn’t realise you were following him around, “out of the way, please!”

He ducks out of the way, pulling his armfuls worth of tickets along with him as you switch the arcade cabinet off at the wall. The machinery inside stops whirring and the smoke calms down. You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, you’ve never seen a machine fault this badly before, you were probably going to need to file an indecent report. What a pain.

“You okay?” You ask the guy. He is a lot taller up close, and the shock of messy white hair on his head only makes him seem taller. He sways like a palm tree in the breeze, clutching onto his massive wad of tickets for dear life.

“I’m sorry. I broke your machine.”

Oh...his voice is softer than you had expected it would be. The lights from a nearby Daytona cabinet are reflecting in his green eyes. You swallow, “You didn't break anything, machine fault, it happens sometimes.”

His eyes drift away from you and over to the cabinet, the smoke has stopped now, it doesn't look like there was too much damage, but he looks very upset about it anyway.

“Hey, seriously, dont worry about it.” You give him an awkward pat on his forearm, “The machines in here are really old, stuff like this happens all the time.”

“Oh...ah…” He bites his lip, “If you’re sure…”

You smile, “Yeah, don't even sweat it. You can keep the tickets by the way, once they're out of the machine it's a nightmare to get them back in again, so consider it an apology for almost setting you on fire.”

He laughs weakly, “Thank you.”

“Hey, uh…” You start, not so subtle eyeing his ticket collection. A decent chunk of it was from that Big Bass Wheel malfunction, an already exorbitant number was won legit. More than you had ever seen anyone win before, “are you a cabinet master?”

“A...what?”

“Like, you know all the sweet spots on the machines. Technically not cheating, but not entirely legal either.”

His eyes widen, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No!” You shake your head at him, “You just won a lot of tickets is all. I’ve never seen someone win that many tickets.”

“I’m just really lucky. It’s all i'm good at, honestly.” He’s fiddling with the tickets in his arms, “My friend’s birthday is coming up and i'm trying to win her that Sailor Moon statue.”

It is true that there is a coveted Sailor Moon statue amongst the arcade’s prize collection. It’s huge, beautifully painted and according to your boss, incredibly rare . It’s been sitting there on the shelf for god knows how long, still tight in it’s shrinkwrap. Generally the most any player is able to afford is three or four sticky hands and a glow in the dark spider ring, but this guy is getting tantalisingly close.

You cross your arms and smirk at him, “You’re really that lucky?”

“Most of the time.”

“Okay then. You’re going to play Monster Drop next, it's the hardest cabinet we have.” You start heading over to the machine in the back of the arcade, it’s huge, you always forget how huge it is. The guy is diligently following behind you, shoulders hunched like he’s trying to make himself seem smaller. The pile of tickets in his arms rustling as he walks, “I’ve never seen anyone get a monster jackpot on this thing. Also my boss filled it with a bunch of different sized balls, so it's basically impossible to get a standard jackpot too, even after practicing at other arcades.”

“Hm. Is that really fair?”

You shrug a shoulder, “Nope. It’s big and loud, so lots of people want to play it and Boss doesn't want too many people winning. there's a catch though, raise the difficulty and you also raise the ticket payout. So if you manage to beat it, you'll be able to afford Sailor Moon.”

The current ticket payout is displayed in flashing red lights, 72,483 . With every failed attempt at hitting the monster jackpot the payout just gets higher and higher, those tantalising numbers draw in more kids hoping to be the one who gets lucky. A number that big means the cabinet has never been won, a smart arcade goer knows that a number like that means stay away.

“How do I play?” He asks, dropping his ticket collection on the ground at his feet.

“Ah, it’s deceptively simple.” You grab his hand and tug him over to the machine, gesturing up at where the balls drop down from, “You just need to press the button to let out a ball, and that’s literally it. The base of the machine spins around to make it harder to get the balls in. Monster jackpot is in the middle, so you would think a straight drop down would jackpot you every time but-”

He smirks wryly, “it’s never that easy is it?”

“Of course not! We’d never make any money if it was.”

He laughs to himself, pulling another coin out of his pocket and clinking it into the machine, “Ah, only one turn?”

You hold up a finger, “Just the one.”

He laughs again, “Brutal.”

“Very.” You take a step back to give him room to familiarise himself with the machine. Most people like to observe it from a few angles, take some time, watch at least one cycle before using up their one shot, “Good luck.”

He turns to you and smiles, “Thanks, but like i said, this is the one thing i'm good at.” He pushes the button, he isn't even looking at the machine, the rotating base hasn't even finished half a cycle. This guy is ballsy.

Despite his gumption, the ball falls a little short of the monster jackpot, “Aw, bad luck-” you start saying, but then it starts bouncing. Once off the base, three times off the sides, up high into the air and then plonk . Straight into the monster jackpot. All you can do is stare. Not only did he get the jackpot, he got it in a rigged machine while he wasn't even looking .

He laughs politely, the sound barely audible of the cabinet’s furious ringing bells and sirens signalling an impossible feat just happened here, everyone look! The tickets have started dispensing, with over 70k to print, it's going to be a long wait, “Jeez, that was scary. I almost thought my luck had run out there!”

He looks completely relaxed as he starts folding the fresh tickets into the neatest pile he can manage, “Are you a god or something?”

“Huh?” He says, blinking down at you, “That’s such a strange thing to ask me.”

“You just beat Monster Drop without looking . I’ve seen professional cabinet masters come in here and still lose after examining the machine for a good two hours!”

“Oh, no need to be impressed. I didn't actually do anything.” He smiles sadly and continues collecting his tickets, “It’s not really much of a talent, but i suppose it comes in handy sometimes.”

You clap a palm to your forehead, unable to believe what you are hearing, “You’re going to have enough tickets for the Sailor Moon statue and enough leftover for like...unlimited sticky hands.”

He taps a finger to his lips, “Oh! I would like some sticky hands.”

“How many?”

His brow creases as he considers it, “Three or four, i guess.”

“Three or-” you start laughing, “Buddy, i could pour the whole box into your bag if you wanted.”

“I don't think i need that many sticky hands, but it's very kind of you to offer.”

“We also have glow in the dark spider rings, and a robust selection of slinkies. Oh! If you really want to splurge we have a pair of slippers that resemble a character from Rick and Morty.”

He grimaces, “I would prefer the slinkies.”

You hear the arcade cabinet’s ticket dispenser finally come to a stop, and despite his good natured effort to collect the tickets in a neat pile, they are still all bunched up around his ankles. You are about to ask him another question when you quickly realise that the Monster Drop machine is now also smoking.

He sighs, “I should have known.”

You don't have time to look into that comment, you are too busy scrambling around to the back of the machine so you can turn the power off at the wall. Much like last time, you catch it before anything actually catches on fire. This has been a very eventful day.

“Hey, uh-” you start awkwardly, pulling yourself up from the ground and moving to help the guy contend with his ticket pile, “I finish in like half an hour...if you need help carrying your miscellaneous arcade prizes back to your car or whatever…”

He blinks at you as you both reach the prize counter and deposit the monstrous ticket collection onto the bench, “I should be okay on my own...but if you want to come I wouldn't mind, though I can’t guarantee I won’t set anything else on fire…” he chuckles nervously and you give him a quizzical look.

You do want to go with him, you aren't sure if it’s just a morbid curiosity about his luck with the arcade machines, or a fascination with the soft halo of white hair falling into his eyes, but you want to get to know him better, “I’ll come with you. You don’t have anywhere near enough fingers for all the glow in the dark spider rings I’m about to give you.” You say as you round the counter and start organising his tickets into more manageable piles.

He smiles, “that does sound like a good idea. I don’t want to drop any of my brand new sticky hands, after all.” He leans forward on the counter, blinking up at you. He’s got really pretty eyelashes, “I’m Nagito Komaeda, in case you were wondering.”

You laugh, “Nice to meet you, Nagito. Now give me 20 minutes to count all your damn tickets.”

[joshuas]

that’s not even ramen

♫ pairing: yang jeongin x gender neutral reader

♫ genre: college/university student!au, slice-of-life, crack, fluff

♫ word count: 3.5k

♫ warnings: nil of note!

♫ summary: a bunch of chaotic misunderstandings, trot singing new years concerts that lead to lots of fluff at the end ^^

♫ tagging: @fluffyskzclub​

♫ a/n: happy april fools! my joke is... that i can’t do anything on time and post things that were supposed to be posted in january in april, so without further ado, i present the eighth addition to my seasonal drabbles! 

♫ skz seasonal drabbles: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

“I swear, this is the tenth time I’ve heard him sing tonight! If he’s going to continue to do this, he should at least sing a different song.” You sighed, exasperated as you tried to put your three-year-old sister to sleep. Her sleep, of course, being interrupted by your new next-door neighbour, Yang Jeongin. He had taken up trot singing over the last couple of weeks and decided only to practice his singing at 11 pm at night. Which, coincidentally, woke your baby sister up every time. And as if it wasn’t hard enough having sole custody over a sibling let alone having a teaching degree to attend to during the day. Your professors had been understanding of your... predicament after your parents moved out of the picture, but there was only so much patience they could hold. Of course, you couldn’t confront Jeongin about it — you were only acquaintances... barely even friends as you had only known each other through university... and now the thin wall that separated your living quarters. Well, it’d also be too awkward if you did (ugh, social confrontation), which is why you put up with it... Relief flooded through you when you heard the singing cease, sighing as your sister stopped fussing and fell back asleep. It’s not as though Jeongin was a bad singer. In fact, he was quite brilliant. But his singing was not appreciated at ungodly hours. The walls started to pulse as folk music blasted at a deafening volume, snapping you out of your reverie and forcing you to focus back on your crying sibling. You held back a scream, mentally cursing at Jeongin, I swear to God, the next time I see this boy—

“Mina put on your coat, it’s ridiculously cold out! It’s January, remember? And what season is it in Jan—“ You paused, observing the idiot that exited his apartment alongside you, “Oh! Hello, Jeongin—“ He walked away without a word, rushing down the stairs. Rude! First the singing and now he’s ignoring me? Does he have any human decency?

“Hello! Welcome — make sure you sign in your children before you leave!” Your eyes settled on Jeongin, who was beaming at the little kids that entered the daycare, holding out the sign-in sheet, Great and now he works at the only affordable day care. How... pleasant. Wiggling her hand out of your grasp, your sister waddle-ran over to Jeongin, giving him the biggest hug, for him to pick her up and spin her around. Ignoring the skip of your heart, you cooly approached the two of them, silently taking the sign in sheet and signing your name. “You must be Mina’s parent— I’m Jeongin, one of the part-timers here.” He held out his hand, Mina, still in his arms, blocking his view. You shook it, “Not her—“ You broke off as another kid ran to Jeongin, crying as he dragged him inside the daycare. Without turning around, Jeongin waved at you in dismissal. You scoffed, He won’t even acknowledge me at home but now that we’re in public and he’s literally being paid to be a decent human being, he’ll put on a face and pretend to be friendly? No thank you.

You rubbed at your temples, mentally snapping at yourself to focus. Tutorial time was probably the only time you had to yourself to study and get things done. But you know what? That wasn’t happening today. Why? Because of Yang Jeongin infiltrating your thoughts every five seconds. You grumbled to yourself, almost ready to pack up and leave, He should pay rent for how long he’s been living in my head. “Oh wait! Y/N, you’re leaving already?” A voice called out from behind a tower of books in their hands, not long before plonking them down on the table in front of you. You looked up, your gaze meeting Jeongin’s hopeful one. Why is he being so friendly? Especially since he flat out ignored me this morning... “Um... I was planning to. Not that it’s any of your business.” You said coldly, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion at his sudden friendliness. Really, Y/N? You’re being like this just because he snubbed you this morning? Okay, wait that’s pretty valid. Ignoring the little “no it’s not” in your head, you maintained your cold demeanour.  “Oh. Um. Sorry. I was just asking because I was hoping to study with you.” Jeongin rubbed his neck awkwardly. You looked at him doubtfully, ignoring the hopeful fluttering in your stomach, “Why would you want to hang out with me of all people?” “Well, you’re the top of the class—“ You scoffed disdainfully and he broke off, looking at you wide-eyed. Of course he only wanted to use me for personal gain. Whatever, Y/N. Just avoid him. Do not interact! “I’m definitely heading off now. Bye.” You grabbed your books, leaving the library and a slightly confused and shocked Jeongin behind. He’s not worth it, Y/N.

You buckled Mina in her little seat in the trolley, lightly humming as you pushed her along. After realising that you were out of ramen (a staple study food, fight me if you disagree), you had scrambled to pick up Mina from daycare before rushing over to the local grocery store, keen to get at least some ramen to fuel your study session after putting Mina to bed. That is if she’s able to sleep. Hopefully Jeongin won’t— You reached for the last pack of your favourite ramen, a hand brushing over yours to grab it with you. You whipped your head around, gaze meeting— yet again— Mr Yang Jeongin. How many times do I have to see him today??? This feels like a cruel joke. It’s not funny! You coughed, pointedly looking between Jeongin and his grip on the ramen you had so obviously grabbed before him. He sighed, pushing his specs up the bridge of his nose, pushing his hair back with the other hand, hand still fixated on the ramen packet, “Please, Y/N. I need this to study.” You inhaled sharply, trying not to be bothered by the impeccable College Boyfriend vibe he was exhibiting, dressed simply in a sweatshirt and track pants, “So. Do. I. In fact, I need it a lot more than you since your singing keeps up the whole neighbourhood. And no! I’m not calling you a bad singer, because on the contrary, you’re quite brilliant and I honestly don’t know why you didn’t decide to become a singer instead of a teacher. I mean, do you really want to waste your life away working at a daycare?” You rambled. Jeongin looked at you, stunned, loosening his grip on the ramen, and handing it to you, his cheeks lightly dusted with pink, “...You know what? You can have it. I’ll just buy... this one! Yep. This one.” He scurried away, leaving you stunned, “But that’s not even ramen!”You called out after him. “Doesn’t matter!”

“Mina, please. Isn’t your crying at least making you tired?” You rocked your sister, exhausted as you looked at the clock— thirty minutes she’s been crying. Jeongin had decided not to sing tonight for some reason. But your sister still had difficulty sleeping. Perhaps he is actually a decent human being... although, I can’t say that I don’t miss his singing... what? Yes, you can, Y/N. The guy literally kept you up til three because of his singing. Mina just felt so inspired by his vocals that she had to try herself... by crying. Ugh.  The walls started to vibrate as you sighed, Complimented him too soon. His melodic tone carrying through to the nursery, your sister’s not so melodic cries mixing in even louder than his singing. You steeled yourself, done with this nonsense. Putting on a coat, you stomped out of your apartment, knocking insistently on Jeongin’s door. The door opened to reveal a bewildered Jeongin as you thrusted your screaming sister into his arms, “You started this. You fix it.”

Jeongin held the door to his apartment with one hand, the other arm supporting your screaming sister. Allowing you into the apartment, you observed how spotless it was, giving it an appraising look. “Seungmin’s my roommate. Hence, why it’s so clean. It’s all he does when he gets home from the hospital.” Jeongin explained whilst trying to rock Mina to sleep. “I’m surprised he puts up with your singing.” You noted. “He works nights.” Jeongin deadpanned. You opened your mouth, closing it when you saw his attention turn towards Mina. Cooing at her, he slowly sunk himself into the cushions of the couch, lowly humming a melody familiar to the ones you had heard through the wall. However, it was more of a ballad version. A soft smile crept onto your face as you observed the two, your heart aching at the adorable sight. Mina slowly fluttered her eyes, slowly closing them as Jeongin hummed further, his chest vibrating comfortingly from his singing, the movement lulling her... to sleep! You looked amazingly at Jeongin, his triumphant gaze finding yours. You tried to take Mina off him as she fussed in her sleep, cuddling further into his chest, you sighed, putting your hands up in defeat — afraid to wake her. “So... care to explain why I had to do this?” Jeongin whispered, looking pointedly at you. “Well...you’ve been keeping her up with your trot singing that she’s been eventually falling asleep at almost 11 pm. The thing that I’m weirded out the most by is that she cried at the lack of your singing and when you sang a softer version of that folk song, she fell asleep straight away.” You explained. “Babies are weird like that. But why did you have to give her to me to calm down?” Jeongin asked, confused. “Well one, you’re studying teaching and working at a daycare. And two, you started this!” You numbered. “We’re in the same class and she’s your sister!” Jeongin pointed out, eyes wide. “Look. The main reason really is your singing. Why do you have to sing so late, anyways? It’s not like you’re preparing for any assignment... we don’t have to create a song for our assignment... right?” You asked, tone slightly laced with concern. “No, no.” He dismissed your concerns, sighing, “The real reason why I’m singing so late at night is actually because I’m preparing for something. I don’t really have time otherwise to prepare for it since I have uni and work.” “What are you preparing for?” You scrunched your eyebrows quizzically. “You have to promise not to laugh.” He looked at you pointedly. “I can’t promise that.” You scoffed. “Well then I can’t tell you.” He lifted his head, looking elsewhere. “Fine. Fine!” You whispered harshly. “Okay, well I’m doing this competition that’s basically a talent show for unusual talents. And mine is... trot singing. The whole point of this talent show, though, is to actually achieve your New Year goals and resolutions.” “And yours is... to win with your trot singing?” You looked at him bewilderingly. “No.” He lightly slapped his forehead, disappointed at your lack of piecing together what little information he provided you with. “My resolution is to perform on stage. However, my only formal singing training is in trot singing.” “Ah, I see.” “Yeah... you should come! Only if you can. Obviously. No pressure.” He asked quickly. “Oh! I’m surprised you want me there after everything that happened.” You said sheepishly. “What happened?” He widened his eyes in confusion. “Well— you were kind of a jerk to me all of today.” You noted. “I was? Oh—“ “You ignored me this morning, put on a face when I dropped Mina off at daycare, purely because you were at work and tried to talk to me in tutorial after that. Then you nearly stole my ramen!” You interrupted. “Oh wow, I really did all of that today? Anyway, let me explain. In the morning, yes I saw you and I could’ve yelled a hello, I admit it. But I was very stressed since Seungmin is normally the one to wake me up when he comes back from the hospital but I think he must’ve gone home with his partner or something because he didn’t come home last night, and I had no way to contact him because Jisung threw his phone in the bin.” He explained. “He what?” You recoiled in bewilderment at the last part. “Long story. Anyway, I actually just go straight to autopilot whenever I have to converse with the parents. And since it’s my first week, I wasn’t expecting to see someone I know, let alone you, so I just went straight to my Customer Service Polite Conversation Autopilot Mode... customer service is so hard. As for the tutorial thing, I wanted to study with you! Believe it or not, I actually do appreciate your company.” He said pointedly. You blushed, clearing your throat, “That doesn’t explain the ramen thing, though.” He sighed, “Ramen is my study food too, you know. But I figured you needed it a lot more than me... also your compliment caught me off guard.” He muttered the last part, you smirked slightly as you heard it. “Anyway, I would really appreciate it if you could come because... well, you- you’re one of my good friends.” He rubbed his neck tentatively. Your chest ached slightly, feelings of disappointment infiltrating your head, only to be met with confusion... and sudden realisation. Oh. No.

[00:37] (Jeongin) hey! you left all of a sudden, but I’ve emailed you the details to the comp. hope you can come :) [10:55] (Jeongin)...Y/N? Are you still alive? Actually, I know you are. But why are you avoiding me? It had been a couple of days since you realised your feelings for Jeongin. Trying to avoid him at any costs, you changed up your schedule — only taking morning tutorials, making sure you didn’t run into him wherever you went. It didn’t help that your lives were so intertwined. Mina had gotten particularly attached to him — you watched her from outside the daycare, her little legs wrapped around his, clinging onto him like a koala and reluctant to let him go when she saw you at the gate. That certainly did not help. But what could you do? In order to avoid hardship, you have to cut the relationship in the bud. Especially since he only sees you as a friend. You snapped your attention to the door, as a knock resounded through your apartment, redirecting your attention from your phone to... a very unkempt Seungmin, waiting behind the door. “Hey, Y/N! I was wondering if you could do me a favour?” He asked, words rushed. “That depends on what it is.” You crossed your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow expectantly. “I need you to go to Jeongin’s talent show for me.” He said. You shut the door immediately on him, “Y/N’s not here.” “I— what? Y/N, please. I need to go to the hospital today and he really wants you to go!” Seungmin pleaded from behind the door. “Why can’t you get any of his hyungs to attend? He has like six other ones.” You proposed. “He really wants you to come. He really likes you, Y/N.” Seungmin sighed. You opened the door slightly, peaking out from around the door, “Yeah. As a friend.” “What gave you that impression?” Seungmin looked at you confusedly. “He said it to my face?” You said, equally as confused. “Oh my god. He like likes you, okay? He didn’t tell anyone except us two about the contest. He told me because we live together but he told you because he has feelings for you!” Seungmin inhaled sharply, trying ridiculously hard not to roll his eyes in annoyance. “You’re not just telling me this so I would go?” You raised an eyebrow sceptically. “No. I have nothing to gain out of that because if you found out I was lying, I know you’ll hold a grudge against me forever, and as neighbours that really would not work out.” He said a matter of factly. “...alright. Fine. I’ll go. And you do realise we’re also friends? Friends generally shouldn’t lie to each other.” You looked at him pointedly. “Right. That.” He said shortly. “Anyway, you should hurry since you only have... twenty minutes til it starts.” He checked his watch. You gasped, “And you only thought to tell me now?” “Some of us have more important things to do than helping your love story progress. For example, saving lives. So, goodbye!” He waved, ushering you to close the door before sprinting down the hall. Time to sort this out... I guess.

You rushed to the venue after purchasing flowers and chocolate and organising for Jisung and his partner to come babysit... although you weren’t exactly trusting of them after hearing of their lawsuit rendezvous at the shopping centre. That was irrelevant right now, though. After sitting through more than fifteen of the most unusual acts at the talent show, you questioned how Jeongin even found out about it. It wasn’t until he entered on stage, lights dimming around him as he sang a slow, but emotive trot song— eyes searching over the crowd, only to lock onto yours as he belted his last note, the audience standing in applause as he stood back, catching his breath, eyes never leaving yours. “And there you have it folks! First of all, a big congratulations to all of you— you’ve successfully achieved at least one of your New Years resolutions!” The MC walked on stage, passing Jeongin on his way out, “But now, it’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for— the winner of this new year’s resolution talent contest is... Yang Jeongin!” A hearty applause echoed throughout the room, loud cheers erupting as Jeongin entered the stage again, you stood up, giving him an encouraging smile whilst cheering, “Okay, well first of all, thank you for the opportunity to do this. I don’t think I would’ve ever performed if it weren’t for making it a New Years resolution.” Low laughter hummed from the audience, “I guess— another person to thank is... well... someone that I really like and have for a while- Y/N. Even though our whole relationship basically consisted of a bunch of misunderstandings, you still came to this competition for me. At least, I hope it was for me. It’d be awkward if it wasn’t, since this is a sort of confession thing. Actually— do you think you could join me on stage?” The audience turned to you as you stared at him in shock. Shaking out of your reverie, you slowly stood up, making your way to the stage as he held out a hand, helping you up the stairs. You gave him a nervous but small smile, “Congratulations on your win!” You handed him the flowers, as he pulled you in for a quick hug. “Y/N, you’re probably the coolest person I’ve ever befriended. You’re incredibly driven, caring, and probably the person I respect most in my life. The way you’re achieving all your goals whilst managing the stress and struggles of raising your younger sibling astounds me, and honestly, that’s probably the feature that I find most admirable about you.” Jeongin spoke into his mic, gaze deepening into yours, the audience “aww”ing in response to him. “So, I guess where I’m trying to get at is— will you go out with me?” He asked as the audience cheered you on. You took the mic off him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, “I’d love to.” He pulled you into a tight embrace as the audience cheered loudly, whistling as well. As you exited the auditorium, entering the foyer, you intertwined your hands with Jeongin’s, “Where should we go for our first date?” You asked, quickly putting on your coat and a beanie, wearily eying the snowfall outside, “I don’t know, I was thinking karaoke?” Jeongin suggested. You scoffed, “No.” “Why not?” He asked, genuinely confused. “Because you’d absolutely crush me. That’s why. Also, I know you’re only saying that because they gave you yearly access to the karaoke club as your prize.” You rolled your eyes. “You wound me with your words, Y/N. Do you think I’d cheapskate on our date?” He placed his hand to his chest, faking a gasp. “Never.” You mimicked his gesture as you exited the foyer. “Yah! Y/N!” “I’m joking, I’m joking! Ahh— don’t tickle me-“ You gasped as his fingers found your sides, giggles unwillingly being emitted. “Only if you give me another kiss.” He tapped his lips, you sighed, leaning over to give him another kiss, as he lightly drew your neck closer to him, deepening the kiss. You pulled back, eyes sparkling with joy, “Well...Even though I know you’ll trash me at it...Race you to the karaoke club?” You proposed, stretching your muscles. “Really? We just had the most epic kiss and now all you’re concerned about is karaoke?!” He raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Last one to the karaoke place gets no kisses for the rest of the day!” “Oh, you’re on.”

Thank you for reading! Would you like to read more?

[sgstories123]

Guess who?

Cindy, Huixin and Farah were at Kate’s condominium. As it was very warm, they went for an afternoon swim in the pool. As they were good friends, they had even bought their bikinis together. The bikinis were all similar except that Cindy’s was pink, Huixin’s was yellow, Farah’s was green and Kate’s was white. There were not many people at the pool except for an elderly couple sunbathing at the side of the pool and a mother with two kids. The four friends enjoyed themselves in the water and making lots of noise. The elderly couple smiled at them but the mother was obviously upset and left the pool with her kids after a while. Some time later, a man in his forties entered the pool. He smiled at the girls and tried to make small talk, but the girls ignored him and moved to another part of the pool.

“He still staring at us,” whispered Farah.

“He staring at you, lah,” replied Huixin. “Who asked you to have such big breasts, bouncing up and down like waving to him like that? And I told you to get a bigger size for your bikini, right? There is hardly enough cloth to cover anything.”

Farah laughed. Everyone was jealous of her D cup and round, perfect ass. Not that the rest of the girls did not have a good figure, but in her presence, they pale in comparison. Cindy and Kate were  C cup and even slim, athletic Huixin had a decent pair of B cup.

Cindy swam up to Huixin and Farah. “I think he is having an erection. I saw his cock was almost peering out of his trunks when I swam near him.”

“Eww. Let’s get back to my place. Grab a towel and we can take a bath there. Don’t want to linger here with that pervert here.” Kate got up of the pool and quickly walked out of the pool. The other girls giggled and followed her. “Prudish Kate,” whispered Farah. The other two girls laughed.

The girls reached Kate’s condominium unit and entered the flat. A man dressed only in a pair of black shorts was watching television in the living room.

“When did you come home? I thought you will only be back tomorrow?” Kate was surprised to see her brother, Ken.

“The army let me book out early. I have not been home for nearly 3 weeks but you don’t seem happy to see me.” Ken smiled. “Out swimming? Your friends?” Ken’s eyes moved quickly from one girl to another, admiring their figures in the brightly coloured bikinis.

“Yeah.” Kate responded curtly and turned to walk to her room. But her friends were interested in her cute-looking brother. Ken had short hair and a muscular body. As he was topless, he exposed his abdominal muscles and a faint shadow of pubic hair reaching out of his shorts to his belly button.

Farah, never the shy one, plonked down the seat beside Ken. “My name’s Farah…” But Farah never finished her sentence as Kate pulled her up from the sofa and pushed all of them into her room. Ken could only hear the girls squealing in laughter.

“Behave yourself, Farah. That’s my brother. Don’t be up to your usual tricks.” Kate warned Farah who was lying down on Kate’s bed.

“But you never told me that he was so cute. You know I can’t stop myself whenever a cute guy is available.” Farah protested.

“Usually, I will say a friend’s brother is off-limits. But Kate, your brother is too cute so the rule does not apply. Even if Farah is not interested, I will still be interested. You are really at fault here for not letting us meet him sooner.” Cindy teased Kate further.

“Sex-crazed bitches!” Kate smiled in exasperation. “Don’t blame me if this turns out bad. I know my brother. He is not worth it.”

“So permission granted for us to fuck him? You don’t get horny and want to fuck him yourself, okay, sister?” Farah’s eyes gleamed brightly.

“You crazy? He is my brother. I won’t fuck him. And, as I said, I think you will regret it. I don’t think he is any good in bed.” Kate shook her head. Her friends are all crazy when it comes to boys. They will just sleep with any good-looking guys. Was she being too conservative? She knew that her friends were calling her prudish and a nun behind her back.

Just then, Ken walked past the room and tried to steal a glance at the girls. All fours pairs of eyes were looking at him and he sheepishly pretended that he was just going to the kitchen.

“Hey Ken!” Farah shouted.

“Yes?” Ken turned back and walked into the room. “What is it?”

“You see, we are having a little disagreement over here and I was wondering if you could help us resolve it.” Farah tried to sound as innocent as she could. The other girls were trying hard not to laugh, wondering what she was up to.

Farah decided to approach it boldly. “We were wondering who amongst us gives the best blowjob. I think I am the clear winner but unfortunately, my friends don’t agree with me. So I was wondering whether you can help us out?”

“What do you want me to do?” Ken was getting suspicious.

“Well, since you are the only person with a dick here, how about we give you a blowjob and you be the judge. Tell us who gives you the best blowjob.” Farah eyed Ken carefully. She saw a glimmer of interest in his eyes and noticed that his cock seemed to be getting hard, making a little tent in his shorts.

“I guess I can help with them.” Ken seemed to hesitate just a moment before replying. He looked at his sister. “Is Kate joining in as well?”

“Of course not. Are you out of your mind? I am your sister.” Kate retorted fiercely. Yet, somehow, she felt aroused that her brother is thinking of getting a blowjob from her.

“Oh.” Ken sounded disappointed. ”So, how should we do this?” He tried to change the subject.

“Well, we need to blindfold you so that it will be fair. Also, we need to tie your hands so that you do not touch us and guess who is giving you the blowjob. Does that sound okay to you?” Farah continued. She was smiling to herself. She saw the look of disappointment in Ken and thought maybe she could do something for him.

“I guess that sounds fair.” Ken agreed.

Farah took off her bikini and allowed her large breasts to pop free. Ken was staring at those huge breasts but not for long. Farah used her bikini and covered Ken’s eyes, blindfolding him with it. As she was tying the bikini on him, she brushed her breasts onto Ken’s face. Without conscious thought, Ken stuck out his tongue and tried to lick her nipples.

“You naughty boy.” Farah chided Ken.

The rest of the girls took Farah’s lead and removed their bikinis. They then used them to tie Ken’s hands to the bed.

“Okay. So this is how we play the game. Each of us will give you a blowjob for 1 minute and then at the end, you tell us which one of us did better. The winner gets to blow you till you cum. The first person will start now. Ready.” Farah nodded to Cindy and motioned for her to go first.

Cindy pulled down Ken’s shorts and for the first time, the girls saw Ken’s cock. It was already hard and rigid, with veins protruding along its length. As expected, Ken was very hairy with the pubic hair extending almost to his belly button. Farah turned to Kate and from the looks on her face, realised that it must be the first time that Kate was seeing her brother’s cock. She smiled to herself. Prudish Kate.

Cindy wasted no time and started licking Ken’s cock. With one hand, she stroked his balls seductively while the other squeezed his rod, trying to exert pressure.

“Next.” Farah interrupted. Cindy reluctantly moved away and let Farah take her place. Farah did not bother with the preliminaries and swallowed Ken’s cock whole. She sucked forcefully and circled the base of his cock with her fingers. Ken groaned in shock at the forceful attack. He could feel his sperm being suck out of him and he tried to distract himself from cumming.

In a sense, he was relieved when Huixin took over from Farah. Huixin focused on the tip of Ken’s cock, first dripping drops of her saliva onto his glans and using her tongue to rub them all over the tip of his cock. Her fingers massages the most sensitive tip of his penis, delivering little shocks of pleasure to his whole body.

“All right. Tell us. Which blowjob was the best?” Farah commanded when Huixin’s time was up.

“Oh my god. They were all so good.” Ken managed to gasp.

“No. Don’t cheat. Choose one. Or you won’t get to cum.” Farah threatened.

“The second one.” Ken decided.

Farah smiled and made a V sign with her fingers. She went between Ken’s legs and started sucking on his cock again. This time, she took her time to enjoy herself, slowly sucking and caressing Ken’s body seductively, She squeezed his nipples and touched his muscles seductively. Finally, her hands moved down to his balls and cock, squeezing them with alternate levels of force. She realised that Ken was now shoving his cock into her mouth, at a quickening pace. He must be shooting soon. She stroked his cock harder, applying more pressure and with a final thrust into her mouth, Ken groaned, shooting almost 3 weeks of cum into her mouth. Farah tried to swallow as much as she can, but it was too much and some dripped out of her mouth.

She sat up, looking at Ken panting, with beads of perspiration all over his body. She saw both Cindy and Huixin fingering themselves, obviously enjoying the show that she put on for them. Kate had a look of confusion on her. Farah walked up to Kate and whispered softly. “Are you okay?”

Kate nodded.

“Do you want to suck him too?” Farah asked.

Kate was hesitant but finally shook her head. Farah smiled.

Turning to Ken, she asked “Do you know who gave the blowjob?”

“No. But it was very good.” Ken replied.

“Well, we are not feeling so good. You cummed but not us. I think you should repay the favour and let us ride you until we cummed. Fair?” Farah looked at the girls and saw Cindy and Huixin nodding in agreement enthusiastically.

“Yeah. But can I fuck you without my blindfold? I also want to touch you.” Ken tried to bargain.

“Well, that depends on whether you can satisfy us.” Farah smiled.

Huixin was already pushing away Farah so that she can straddle Ken. She gave Ken’s cock a few strokes and it quickly became hard again. Huixin was already wet and quickly guided Ken’s cock into her. She sighed in pleasure, slowly enjoying how Ken’s cock was filling her hole. She grinned herself on Ken’s cock, moving forwards and backwards slowly. As she increased her pace, she squeezed her nipples, trying to enjoy herself as much as she can. She felt her orgasm approaching and bit her lips so as to stifle her moans. She grabbed Ken’s shoulders, before collapsing on top of him in exhaustion.

Cindy pushed Huixin away and pushed Ken’s cock in her. She bent forward, kissing Ken. Their tongues met and fought in their mouths. Cindy slid along Ken’s body, enjoying the full body contact. Ken, on his part, could feel Cindy’s pair of breast massaging his body. Cindy moaned as she felt her orgasm approaching. She froze, letting her pleasure overcome her.

Farah saw that it was her turn and being the aggressive lover, simply straddled Ken and plunged herself onto his hard cock. She rode him hard, humping up and down on him, squeezing his cock with her cunt. Again, Ken found himself unable to restrain himself.

“I am cumming,” he warned.

“Let’s cum together.” Farah moaned. She quickened her pace and within minutes, both came, with Ken ejaculating his load into Farah. Farah collapsed onto him. Ken’s cock became soft and plopped out of her cunt. Sperm flowed out and left a line down Ken’s body and onto Kate’s bed.

Farah got up and motioned to Cindy and Huixin to leave the room. Before Farah left the room, she whispered to Kate. “We are leaving. Even if you fuck Ken, we will not know. Neither will Ken.”

Farah smiled and closed the door behind her.

Kate looked at her naked brother covered in her friends’ and his own cum. She looked down and realised that her bikini has a large wet patch.

[the-cult-of-russo]

Push and Pull (Part 15)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x OC

Warnings: cursing, smut

---------

It was bright and early when Daphne woke up the next morning. She had things to do and no time to waste. The sun was shining through her window, the weather finally starting to get warmer. She put on some leggings with a tank top and then her zip up hoodie over it. She groaned at her hair in the mirror as she dragged her brush through the unruly locks. So many times she considered cutting it so it wasn't so much work, but she knew she'd regret it. Instead, she settled on tossing it up into a high pony and ignoring it. Her trusty backpack was slung around her shoulder and she hopped around as she put her vans on before leaving the apartment. 

She squinted slightly at the light once she got out of the building but it didn't deter her. First stop. Coffee. One large latte to go later, she was on her way to see Brett to find out what news he might have. She tossed her now empty cup in the trash can beside the station before she jogged up the steps and inside. She never checked in with the desk, she was a ghost when she was here. That's how it worked. It wasn't such a secret anymore than she was on Brett's payroll which left her to come and go as she pleased, but officially, she was never there. When she walked into the office area, Brett was sitting at his desk just like the day before. He looked like he hadn't even gone home.

"You look like shit," she mused teasingly, putting down the other coffee she'd gotten for him. His eyes lit up at the sight of it and he gave her a tired smile. 

"You're an angel," he muttered with a long pull from his drink as she sat down. The coffee at the precinct was the worst and never really did its job. 

"Any news yet?" She tried to hide the impatience in her voice but she wasn't sure she succeeded.

"Actually, we do have something. Not quite sure the full details yet though," he murmured. She looked at him expectantly.

"The people we rescued, their fingertips were burnt right off just like the last time. We can't identify most of 'em until they're fully coherent. But they're doing alright. I just can't believe the Chinese were at it again right under our goddamn noses," he fumed, taking another slurp of his coffee.

"I'm not surprised. They probably picked it back up when the heat turned off them again," she sighed. She hoped that once the victims were in a better state they'd be able to get names from them. Some of them might have family that were looking for them.

"Anything from the device?" She asked hopefully

"Yeah, actually. The Chinese requested the meet. They were pretty vague about a lot of shit but they kept saying something about the Italians having a weapon and they wanted to use it. Seemed to be brokering a deal about it. I got no idea what the hell this weapon is, but the Chinese really fucking want it and the Italians already have it. And that makes me nervous as shit," he frowned. 

It made her nervous too. What did the Italians have that the Chinese couldn't get for themselves? And why did they want it? 

"Well that's unsettling," she huffed with a shake of her head.

"Tell me about it. Good news though, that device you planted must be well hidden. It’s still live and active," he flashed her a grin and she smiled herself as she gave herself a mental pat on the back.

"Do you think it'll be useful?" She inquired.

"No telling yet. I mean mostly it'll be the kitchen staff but it might pick up something. Any other meets we might not be aware of or anyone saying something. Even something small can lead to something big, right?" He smirked, practically quoting her. It made her chuckle. 

"At least that's something. If we can figure out what weapon the Italians have we can figure out how bad this all is," she said softly. It made her nervous and she had a feeling things would get messy soon in Hell's Kitchen. 

"Here's hoping. There ain't much for you to do with the case right now but I'll let you know when we get any more information. It's just a waiting game now," he replied.

"Ah, my favourite," she smirked sarcastically, causing him to snort. She wasn't known for having patience. She liked answers and she liked them immediately. But in this case, playing the long game would be the only option to getting to the bottom of it all.

She bid her goodbyes to him not long after that before making her way back out into the sunshine. Now it was her next pit stop. A short cab ride later and she was at a very fancy luxurious home. It was more like a mansion and was three stories high. It looked like it was right out of a movie with one of those grand entrances and a water feature out front. She was well out of place as dressed down as she was but she knocked on the door anyway. She wasn't even surprised when a butler answered the door.

"Can I help you, miss?" The older man asked softly. His black and white uniform was crisp and clean and it put her own rumpled clothes to shame.

"I'm here to see Mrs Grimes. I'm Daphne Weaver," she replied awkwardly. 

"One moment please," he shut the door and she quirked her brow at how formal all this was. This better pay well. Suddenly the door opened again and he smiled at her.

"This way please. She's been hoping you'd come," he seemed a little friendlier now. Maybe it was because his boss wanted her here so he wasn't all suspicious of what she wanted. Either way, she followed him inside. He led her up the huge ass staircase, the kind that split off at the middle. Everything looked like it cost a million dollars, from the art to all the rare looking things in cabinets. She didn't even feel worthy enough to touch the banister so she kept her hands in her hoodie pocket. 

The carpet was lush and a deep purple colour and she found her eyes wandering the hallway they walked down. How many rooms does someone need? No wonder she had staff, upkeep on this place would be a ball ache. They reached a room far down the left and he knocked on the heavy looking mahogany door.

"Enter," a female voice rang out. It was slightly accented but she couldn't place it. Jeeves opened the door and gestured for her to go inside. She glanced around the room curiously as she walked in. It was a living area with a grand fire. Heavy bookcases lined the walls of the room and were filled with what looked to be antique books that Daphne found herself wanting to look at. There was a giant fur rug in front of the fireplace with velvet looking sofas set in front of it. 

That's where Mrs Grimes was sitting, looking perfectly in place for where she was. She was wearing a long black dress, heels bigger than anything Daphne could ever walk in. Her greying blonde hair was neatly coiffed and pinned up and she was dripping in diamonds. Jesus. 

"Pleasure to meet you Ms Weaver, please sit," she smiled warmly at her, gesturing to the other sofa. Daphne was half worried her vans would dirty the goddamn carpet as she padded over and plonked down. Despite it being completely over the top and not really her taste, she did appreciate however how clean and neat everything was kept. A place like this could easily fall into being cluttered and dusty but it was pristine. She supposed the staff were to thank for that. Mrs Grimes' nails were so long she doubted she could do much cleaning herself. Daphne wasn't sure how she didn't accidentally gauge her own eyes out.

"Would you like something to drink?" She asked politely. Jeeves was still hovering near the door no doubt waiting for his command. She was tempted to say yes to see what kind of beverages the other side drank, but she didn't want to stay long.

"Uh… no thank you. I'm fine," she replied with an awkward smile.

"Very well. Hammond, leave us," she dismissed the man at the door. He gave a dramatic nod before he left and shut the door behind him. She idly wondered if he ever wanted to punch his bosses when they commanded him to do things like that. She'd never be able to hold a job like that down.

"I'm glad you came, I was worried you wouldn't," the older woman started, elegantly crossing one leg over the other.

"A job's a job," Daphne snorted lightly, her hands still stuffed in her pockets lest she touch something and ruin it. Mrs Grimes gave her a tense smile, looking like it was difficult to be polite. Maybe she wasn't used to the lower class being in her home. 

"Indeed it is. Will you take the case?" She asked hopefully. 

"Yeah, I'll be able to do it. As I tell all my clients, I don't give out time frames. I never know how long it'll take me to find what I need or what roadblocks might come up. I don't appreciate impatience and it doesn't make me work any faster," she said firmly. Establishing boundaries was the first thing she liked to do. It was important. Especially with the wealthy ones as in her experience they tended to be the impatient ones with their self importance.

"Very well. I accept your terms. And please, whatever you find, do tell me," she implored. Daphne nodded, she always did no matter how shitty the information she'd gained was. Mrs Grimes stood, walking somehow with grace and ease in those monster heels as she walked over to a cupboard near the wall. She opened a drawer and came back with some paper.

"Me and my husband used to be very much in love. And I'm afraid now that I'm older he's decided to find other companions. Call me paranoid but I'm sure you understand when to look into a gut feeling," she mused as she walked back over and sat down. Daphne nodded again. Her gut was rarely wrong and it was telling her that Mrs Grimes was right.

"I want confirmation. I want to know who with and how deep it runs. If it's just physical or something more. I want to prepare myself should he try to divorce me and take what I have. I need proof," she stated seriously. Daphne's eyes subconsciously swept across the room and all the fancy things in it.

"I know what you're thinking. And I was the one with money, not him. He makes a decent amount with his job but I was born with money. This house was passed through my family for generations. Everything in it I bought. But over the years I've had my eyes opened to how greedy my husband can be. I cannot trust if we separate that he won't try to take everything from me," she sounded bitter and Daphne wasn't surprised. They definitely sounded like they had issues and once trust was gone in a relationship, everything else had no foundation to stand on. It wouldn't last. She commended the woman for thinking ahead to make sure she was protected if it came down to it. This kind of bullshit was why relationships were too much work.

"I'll find out what I can. I'll be honest, some of my methods aren't quite… legal. But it gets the job done," Daphne muttered. Things like breaking and entering were definitely illegal and then there was hacking if she ever needed to do it, which in this case might prove useful.

"Good," Mrs Grimes smirked at her. She found herself smirking back at her. The rich typically didn't care too much about how she got the information, just that she got it. Mrs Grimes reached down to her Gucci purse, setting it on her lap and she grabbed something out of it. It was her wallet and Daphne was curious what her offer would be. She hadn't spoken to her about price points yet and when it came to her wealthier clients she made a point of waiting to see what their offer would be first. Usually she’d haggle a little just because she could. They'd have the money and they wanted the information. 

She watched with a keen eye as Mrs Grimes took a chunk of money out and handed it to her. A quick count told her it was $1000 and it took effort for her eyes to not bulge out as she kept a cool calm facade.

"That's the deposit. You'll get the rest when the work is complete. Another $1000. I may give you more depending on just how much you find out," she drawled. So she wouldn't need to haggle then, this price was insane and way more than what the job would entail, but like fuck she would tell her that. She also appreciated the incentive. She liked a challenge, something to work towards. The more she found out then the more she'd get paid. 

"Sounds good to me. I'll get started in the next few days," she replied, keeping her calm demeanour and not acting like she was thinking of what she would spend her money on once she got it all. She carefully stuffed it in her backpack before zipping it back up. She almost jumped when the older woman dinged a bell beside the table and it took all of her willpower not to roll her eyes as the butler walked in.

"Yes, Mrs Grimes?" He enquired politely. 

"Please see Ms Weaver out. Have one of our drivers drop her off to wherever she needs to go," she commanded softly. Part of her wanted to protest but the other wanted to pretend she lived the fancy life, even if just for a moment. 

They both stood and Mrs Grimes took her hand in one of those fancy people hand shakes that were flimsy and light. 

"It was a pleasure, Ms Weaver. I hope to hear from you soon," she smiled. 

"Likewise," she replied, not really knowing what to say. No matter how many well off clients she saw she always felt weird and out of place interacting with them.  She followed Jeeves out the hall and down the large stairs case. He stopped when he got by the front door and picked up a phone that was attached to the wall. She stood there looking around as the man spoke in hushed tones down the receiver before hanging up and then opening the grand front door. 

"Have a lovely day, Ms Weaver," he bowed politely.

"Uh… you too," she murmured as she stepped outside. 

The door shut with a clang behind her and she was suddenly on her own outside. It didn't last long though as a large black car pulled up right at the entryway.

"Ms Weaver?" A man called out after rolling the window down. She nodded and walked over. She was getting sick of being called that name. The man hopped out, jogging over to the back of the car and opening the door for her. This really was fancy service. She gave him an uncomfortable smile, not used to this level of service from anyone. It felt wrong almost. But she slipped inside and settled in the ridiculously comfy car seats. 

"Where to, Miss?" The man asked once he was situated behind the wheel again. 

"Um… Fogwell's gym please," she murmured in response. He punched in something on the phone he was using with the GPS and then he took off. There was a reason she was dressed the way she was after all. She didn't want to think of Matt being a weird asshole the day before. As much as part of her considered not going, she really needed to train and she knew he would be there. She was too stubborn to let Matt's weird PMSing get in the way of her learning to defend herself properly. 

The drive was uncomfortably silent and she clutched her backpack on her knees. She wondered what it was like to live this life full time. She was a bitch but she didn't feel right with commanding people to do shit, even if she was paying them. It just felt off to her. Before long, the car pulled up in front of the gym. She almost felt like she should pay him or something, totally not used to this kind of exchange. As she unbuckled her seat belt, the man got out and ran around to her door. He opened it and she slipped out, swinging her bag over her shoulder. She noticed the apprehensive look on his face as he looked at the rundown gym.

"Are you sure, Miss?" He asked quietly, like he was asking her to blink twice if she needed help. She almost snorted but gave him a polite smile. She guessed his boss wasn't used to being around places like this. She appreciated his sentiments all the same though.

"I'm sure," she said softly. He nodded, still looking unhappy about it but there was nothing he could do. With a nod, he was back in the car and taking off by the time she walked through the door.

She was quiet and heard loud grunting and the hits of a punching bag. As she came into view, she saw Matt beating the holy hell out of the bag. His fists were flying, grunts and pants leaving his lips with the flurry of punches. The graceful savagery was what always intrigued her about him. But then typically he'd open his mouth and ruin it. He hadn't seemed to notice her yet once again which honestly was perturbing since anyone could come in here and sneak up on him like that. She walked over to the bench, setting her backpack down with a thud. The grunts and punches stopped instantly and the only sound that echoed in the gym was Matts heavy breathing.

"Didn't think you'd show," he said carelessly. 

"I wasn't sure either honestly. But I need to train, even if I do have to put up with your bitch ass," she muttered as she started wrapping her hands. He scoffed as he came over, grabbing his water bottle and drinking a large pull from it. He tossed the bottle down again as he made his way to the ring.

"Alright, come on then," he demanded. 

"What? I don't get to warm up first?" She asked skeptically with a raised brow. He snorted coldly and shook his head.

"You wanna know how to defend yourself for real, there is no warming up. When you're out there in a situation like this, you don't get that luxury," he retorted. She rolled her eyes but honestly couldn't argue with sound logic.

Instead, she bit her tongue as she put on the gloves and climbed inside of the ring. Matt cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders as they squared off with one another. 

"Let's go," he smirked devilishly. He lunged at her but she moved just in time, twirling around as they practically traded places. They started trading blows, although his were very clearly intended not to hurt her, and she was pleased she got some good jabs in. She didn't slow down or stop this time when he deflected or managed a light shot to her side. She just came back twice as hard. She was proud of herself. Her heart was thumping away from the adrenaline and the exertion of the sparring after a while and she leaned against the ropes as they both caught their breath.

"You did good. You're getting better," he sounded reluctant to give her the praise and she rolled her eyes a little at him.

"I want you to teach me how to get out of the hold from last time," she said firmly. His head turned to her then, his hazel eyes not quite landing directly at her as he narrowed them.

"Daphne, I don't think-" he started, only to be promptly cut off.

"It's fine. I need to learn and I'll get over it. I think I'll be fine this time," she urged. She meant it too. She still had lingering effects of her attack but she was feeling a little better recently. And after her and Matt's partially regrettable night together, she hadn't had a nightmare for the first night since it happened. She knew the sex had helped. Whenever she needed to feel better and clear her head, she would have sex. It's why her sister was so worried it would become a crux for her. Her sex with Matt had done wonders for her stress and anxiety over the whole thing so she felt like now was the perfect time to try to learn it. 

He was quiet for a moment before heaving a heavy sigh. He yanked his gloves off and tossed them out of the ring and she followed suit before he changed his mind. Climbing to the floor, she lay on her back and bent her knees just like the last time. As he knelt down between her legs, it was hard not to think of the night they shared together and how similar it was. 

"Ready?" He asked reluctantly. She gave him a firm nod he couldn't see but could sense and he brought his hands to her throat. Once again, he applied very little pressure but she lay perfectly still. Her heart wasn't hammering like crazy, she wasn't seeing Keiran hovering over her. She was fine. Matt stayed still as he did his head tilt thing and it took her a moment to realise he was listening to her heartbeat to check if she was okay or not. It was kind of creepy but she let it go. 

He talked her through the steps of how to get out of that kind of hold. One at a time he'd tell her what to do and correct her if she got it wrong as they did a slow mo version one part at a time to ensure she knew each step. It was more complicated than the last one but after a few step by step tries she thought she had a good idea on what to do. Now it was time to get out of it for real. 

"3, 2 ,1," he counted, preparing her somewhat so she didn't lose her shit like last time. This time he applied some pressure around her throat but it was still practically nothing. She felt his weight bearing down on her and she grabbed his right forearm with her left and then used her right hand to grip his left shoulder in a cross grip. Using her left foot, she pushed off his hip, pivoting her pelvis to the right so he was no longer directly above her. She hooked her right leg high up on his back, right under his armpit and she kept a firm grip on him as her left leg moved to wrap around his shoulder too, locking it onto her other. She grabbed his wrist, the one that was in her grip that was now at her mercy on her chest. She knew if she thrust her pelvis upwards sharply she would break his arm at his elbow. 

It had happened so fast but she caught herself before completing the maneuver and felt pleased with herself. She let go of his arm and rolled them over so he was now under her. They were both panting and she laughed lightly, feeling good she actually did it. She was a little sweaty and she looked down at where he lay under her. His brow had a slight sheen to his and his hair was doing that thing where it went every which way. His eyes were wandering as he caught his breath with a grin. She wasn't the only one enjoying their session it seemed. 

She felt his hands glide up her thighs that were around him and she'd be a liar if she said it didn't make her tingle. His unseeing eyes were burning into her, pupils blown wide. She went to move off him but he held her in place, only now she was hovering right in front of his face. One of his hands rested on the base of her neck and he pulled her down a little. She stayed still though and resisted as her lips were a breath away from his.

"We're not on the same page, remember?" She teased him, enjoying seeing him this worked up. She squeaked when her back hit the mat when he rolled them over quickly. She hadn't expected it. 

"I'm over it," he smirked devilishly at her before his lips collided with hers. 

She should have really stopped to think about it. To assess the validity of his words. But sex with Matt was something else and it made her feel amazing. All her stress and worries melted away last time. And although she knew going down that rabbit hole wasn't good with her past of sometimes becoming dependant on sex for her own mental well being, she couldn't really help herself. She blamed Matt for being insufferable and ridiculously attractive. The kiss was rough and demanding and she gave into him, moaning as he pushed himself against her through the thin fabric of their pants. He knelt up, tugging at his vest and lifting it over his head. Something dawned on her then.

"We're gonna do this here? What if someone walks in?" She snorted amused. She wasn’t one to shy away from sex in weird places but she didn't want some old dude walking in and getting a free show. He tossed his vest on the floor as he chuckled, jumping to his feet and climbing out the ring. She sat up, watching him curiously as he went and locked the door from the inside. She couldn't take her eyes off him as he prowled back to her though. The predatory grace he held, the way his sculpted body moved. In her needy and horny haze she found herself impatient for him to return and she felt like he was taking his time to tease her if his smirk was anything to go by. She pulled her shirt off and then her bra, tossing them in a heap beside them as Matt toed off his shoes. 

He knelt back down then, his hands curling her ankles and yanking them lightly. Her back hit the mat with a light thud and she looked up at him shocked before laughing. With a wicked grin, he pulled her leggings and panties off together but painfully slow and her desire was increasing with every second he made her wait for it. She wouldn't beg though. She sat back up, tugging at his shorts and he bent down, kissing her roughly as she yanked them down with his boxers. She fisted him tightly and he moaned into her mouth, causing her to smirk into the kiss. Letting go, she pulled the shorts and boxers all the way off him before pushing him onto his back. 

It was his turn to look mildly shocked and she climbed on top of him, her slick heat trapping his cock against his belly. His eyes were darting around her face and she leant forward, catching his lower lip with her teeth. He let out a long groan, arching up at her as she tugged it before letting it go with a pop. She sat up, pushing up on her knees before she gripped him and lined herself up. Without a word she sank down onto him and the pair moaned in relief. It was instant for her, that feeling of him filling her up like that. Knowing her release would come soon. She rested her hands on his firm chest for leverage as she started moving her hips. His hands felt like they were all over her body at once. Not soft or sweet, but firm and demanding and he took in every detail of her body. 

The gym was filled with moans and gasps as she rode him hard, her anger at his behaviour and the thrill of fighting with him fuelling her pleasure. She almost found it ironic that they were fucking in a boxing ring with how often they fought. He pulled her down roughly, lips smashing against hers as he ravaged her mouth. She felt that euphoric feeling getting closer, her whole body tingling in anticipation. She got faster and harder, chasing the release she was after like her life depended on it. 

"Don't stop," Matt groaned against her lips, one hand gripping the back of her neck while the other was on her ass, fingers digging into her flesh. She had no plan on stopping though. Not when she was this close. She kept up the pace and then she moaned loudly, her body tensing lightly as she clamped down around him. 

He let out the hottest fucking noise she’d ever heard a human make and it only heightened her own pleasure as she rode the waves of her orgasm. He was clinging onto her tightly, rutting up into her as he panted and then groaned, spilling himself inside of her. He relaxed instantly. Hands falling to his sides. She sat there on top of him as she tried to catch her breath. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair had started falling out of her ponytail. She was thoroughly fucked and in the best way. That beautiful feeling was coursing through her veins as she let the hormones and endorphins flow though her. 

She climbed off him carefully before standing up and stretching.

"I'm gonna hit the shower," she hummed sounding blissful as she scooped up her clothes. She walked completely naked to the showers and got herself cleaned up and presentable. She didn't regret it, it was amazing and she felt good now. And from the sounds he made, he enjoyed himself too. She just hoped he meant it when he said they were on the same page. 

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

Matt stood in his own shower in the men’s changing rooms as he let the cold water pelt him. His brain was a fried mess and he leaned against the cool tiles as he tried to just think clearly. He wasn't sure why he'd done it again, not after last time. He couldn’t really say what had bothered him about the fact she left last time. He'd gotten out of the shower and went to his room and she was just gone. No words, no note, nothing. He knew it had been purely physical, they could barely tolerate each other. He wasn't stupid enough to think too deeply into it. Yet it left him feeling strangely hollow when she’d just left him like that.

And then when he had turned up to work, Foggy had been acting weird. After some pressure he'd told Matt about his conversation with Daphne. Matt was pretty sure he hadn't gotten the whole story from him but the gist of her saying it was just sex was clear. And he'd told Foggy she was right. It was a one time thing because of all their pent up anger and the adrenaline from the night they'd had. He told his best friend to stop thinking about it. Yet he hadn't been able to do the same. He'd ended up texting her using Foggy's phone to see if she would be home and then he went to see her. No rhyme or reason or idea why he was going there. All he knew was that it bothered him.

It wasn't like he’d never had casual sex before, although he couldn't say it happened much the last few years. And his inability to understand why he was feeling the way he was led to them fighting again. Because she was right. But he hadn't been able to let it go. So when he left, he told himself it wouldn't happen again. She was trouble and being around her wore him out. It wasn't worth it. So how did he end up here again? Oh that's right, apparently he'd turned into a horny teenager again. A bit of sparring, feeling her body against his and sensing how happy she was in the ring really fucked his hormones over. And now here he was again. Only this time it was his own fault. She’d actually turned him down and he'd been the one to push. He couldn't say he regretted it either. It was the best damn sex he’d ever had and it left him feeling more chilled out than he felt in a long time. He'd keep his mouth shut this time and not act like a teenage girl about it. He dug himself into this hole and now he had to climb his own way out. 

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

Daphne towel dried her hair as much as she could and it left it wavy. She scooped it up in a messy bun on top of her head, a few stands framing her face. The euphoric feeling she got after sex was easing but she still felt calm and settled. It was nice, she didn't get to experience it that much anymore. She really didn't want to have to face Matt, not knowing if he'd throw a tantrum like last time. She didn't want him to read into it again or act all weird about it. It really killed the vibe and ruined her good mood. She'd tried to stop it from happening, not wanting to deal with that again, but she hadn't been able to help herself when he'd wanted her so clearly. There was something addictive about it. But now she felt dread settle into her bones as she thought about how he would react. 

She took her sweet time getting dried and dressed simply to buy herself some time. But eventually she was done and she had to leave the changing room. As she walked out into the main part of the gym, Matt was sitting on the bench tying his laces. 

"Ready?" He asked softly. No awkward questions, no anger in his voice. Maybe he was on the same page now after all. She felt relief sweep through her, allowing her to enjoy the calmness that she'd been left with after their time together. 

"Yeah," she replied, grabbing her backpack and putting it over her shoulder. 

Matt grabbed his cane where it was leaning against the wall. He was now wearing a hoodie too and he grabbed his glasses out of the pocket as he slid them onto his face. She wondered if he ever got sick of having to act blind. He was blind but not like the average blind person. He didn't really need the stick and she'd seen him 'bumping' into things like he hadn't known they were there before. When they stepped out into the sunshine, she winced and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Jesus christ! I think I've joined the blind club," she grumbled, rubbing her poor eyes. The sun just burnt the shit out of her retinas. He let out a surprised laugh, the door shutting behind them.

"Here," he grinned. She cracked a wary eye open, seeing him holding out his glasses to her, but she didn't take them.

"It's not like I need them,” he teased. It helped. She felt a little better. She slid them onto her face and her eyeballs thanked her immediately. They started walking down the street together and she glanced into a window as they walked by, looking at her reflection. She snorted at herself. Her hair, despite being recently washed and put up, was a wavy mess. Her cheeks were still rosy pink and the glasses looked weird on her face.

"They suit you," he mused playfully. She shoved him lightly, causing him to laugh when an older woman gasped at her actions.

"Assaulting a blind man in public? It's like you want to get arrested," he smirked.

"Yeah well, Foggy will be my lawyer so I'll be good," she quipped back with a grin. Now they were on the same page they seemed to be amicable after venting their frustration on each other. 

"You really think my best friend would take your side over mine?" He asked, faking being hurt as he held his hand over his heart. She stopped walking and he did the same as she looked at him.

"I hate to say it but I think he prefers me now. Not that I can blame him. You are a bit of an asshole," she grinned mischievously. He gaped at her before his hand darted out and went to grab the glasses. She squeaked, holding them in place as he tried to steal them from her face.

"You don't deserve my glasses," he snorted.

"Come on! I need my eyes, I'm not like you!" She whined pitifully. 

"And what's this?! My two favourite people, getting along nicely? Is the world ending?" A dramatic voice sounded from next to them. Both she and Matt stilled completely in a comical way before they took a step away from each other. Both of them looked caught out as they looked at a very smug Foggy.

"This is great! Better than great! I love this," he beamed like a kid on Christmas. Daphne groaned and glared at him from the glasses still perched on her face.

"Foggy, I swear! You want us to not kill each other when we're in the same room? Don't make a big deal about it when it happens," she huffed. 

"It is a big deal. You're both laughing and smiling together. This is huge. It's like a rare solar event or something," he defended. 

She resisted the urge to throttle him as Matt rubbed his temples. 

"Foggy," Matt warned lightly.

"Okay! I get it, I'm making it weird. This whole thing is new to you both and I'm just making it awkward," he soothed, holding his hands up in surrender.

"There is no 'thing'. We can't just actually have a moment where we get on with each other before you start trying to marry us off again?" She whined. 

"Marry us off? What?" Matt asked quickly, his head whipping to his friend. She snorted as Foggy's cheeks went a little pink and he shot her a glare 

"Oh, he didn't tell you he's the captain of ship Maphne?" She laughed loudly. She didn't care if Matt knew. It was ridiculous to her and she was getting payback on Foggy for being a little shit. 

"Maphne? Do I even wanna know?" Matt asked exasperated. Foggy shot her another look before standing up straighter.

"You know what, Daph, mock me all you want but this is the hill I'm choosing to die on," he pointed at her. Matt still stood there unsure of what they were even talking about. She opened her mouth for another retort that would no doubt embarrass Foggy further and also maybe make Matt uncomfortable which was a bonus, but Foggy beat her to it. 

"Anyway! I'm glad I caught you two, I have great news!" He beamed excitedly. She quirked her brows perplexed as he led them to a table outside of the cafe nearby. The three of them sat around it, Matt and Daphne watching their friend expectantly. 

"I finally asked Karen on a date!" He practically squealed. A splitting grin graced Daphne's face, unable not to be happy for him. During their many talks, he'd spoken about his feelings for the blonde and Daphne had always told him to go for it. 

"Aw, Foggy! You're growing up, I'm so proud!" She cooed, reaching over and pinching his cheek. He was so happy he just let her.

"That's awesome, man. I'm happy for you," Matt smiled sincerely.

"I know, it's great right? I just finally bit the bullet. I just decided I need to stop being such a baby about it," he explained. He had a weird look on his face though, the same one that usually told her something going on.

"What is it?" Both she and Matt asked at the same time, him clearly picking up on Foggy's weirdness in his own way.

Foggy raised a brow at them both being in sync and she made a point to not even look at Matt so Foggy wouldn't go off on his Maphne tirade again.

"Well… I just… I panicked, okay? I set it all up and she knew I wanted to ask her something. But then I'm like, what if she says no? I mean it's just gonna be me and Karen. Alone. On a date," he uttered looking like a deer in the headlights.

"That's kinda the point, Foggy," Matt teased.

"I know it is. And I couldn't back out because she was just watching me, waiting for what I wanted to ask. I honestly felt like I was about to have a heart attack and I may have asked her on a date but told her it was a double date with you guys," he blurted, barely taking a breath as he did. 

Daphne blinked at him for a moment as her brain tried to digest his words.

"You did what?" Matt asked incredulously. Foggy made a pitiful noise and she took Matt’s glasses off and set them in the middle of the table, giving Foggy a look.

"A double date? Implying that me and Matt are actually also going to be on a date. Do you see the flaw in that plan?" She asked slowly, like she was talking to a child about why playing with matches was bad. 

"I know! Like I said, I panicked and that's just the first thing that came out of my mouth!" Foggy defended with a sigh.

"And Karen actually bought that?" Matt scoffed, gesturing with his hand to him and then Daphne.

"You're kidding right? She's all aboard this ship, she was actually excited about it," Foggy smirked. She kicked him under the table and he groaned. Matt's jaw ticked as he glared in his best friend's direction. 

"This isn't a joke, Fogg. All the shit you give me for keeping my secret from her and you're just lying right to her face about this?" Matt frowned. 

"That's completely different. Your secret is dangerous. This one isn't. For all she knows it's your first date too and after that it just didn't work out. Besides, it's not like you're not getting it on with each other, would it really be that hard to just pretend to be on one date?" He pleaded, looking from her to Matt.

"Yes," they both answered again.

"Please? I really need this. If I tell her you're not going she might cancel too. You two are like a buffer, help set the scene and put her at ease. I really like her, guys. I don't want to mess things up," he begged. 

"Foggy-" Matt started sternly, only to be cut off by Daphne. 

"Fine. But you're paying for dinner," she relented. 

Foggy smiled the widest grin she'd ever seen on a human and Matt turned to glare at her.

"You've got to be kidding me," he scoffed incredulously.

"What? Didn't you hear him? He's our friend, Matt. Let's just do this for him. Besides, free dinner," she shrugged. Matt looked pissed and honestly it was a reward she hadn't expected. She'd almost forgotten how nice it felt to push his buttons. 

"This is ridiculous. You really think she's not gonna notice we can't stand each other once she's sat at a table with us for a while?" Matt glowered. He had a point but they could just try to be civil for Foggy's sake.

"You know what, Matt, I really hate to play this card but you left me no choice. You lied to me for the longest time and now I have to keep your secret. I already have to start a potential relationship with lies for you. Can't you just do this one thing for me? I never ask you for anything," Foggy muttered with a frown. 

A sly grin spread on her face at how underhand it was of Foggy. She almost felt like a proud parent as she watched a million emotions pass over Matt's face before defeat was all that was left.

"Fine. But don't say I didn't want you when this all blows up in your face. And you're paying for my dinner too," he huffed. Foggy looked more than pleased with himself. 

"Thank you! You guys are awesome. I'll even pay for your drinks if you actually try and act like you like each other and not make it awkward," he shot them both a toothy grin. 

"Hey, let me drink as much as I want and I'll make it really look like we're on a date," she smirked devilishly, a wiggle of her eyebrows and Foggy burst out laughing.

"Jesus christ," Matt muttered quietly with a shake of his head. 

"Deal," Foggy nodded firmly, "tonight at 8. It's the Mexican place near the firm," he instructed before he stood.

"Alright. I'm heading out, you coming with, Matt?" He asked, shooting his annoyed friend a look.

"Yeah. You go on, I'll catch up in a sec," he bit out. Foggy gave her a look and a smirk before he started walking away. 

"Really?" Matt glared at her, swiping his glasses from the table and shoving them onto his face. 

"What? Free food and as much booze as we want? Plus doing your best friend a solid? I know you're an asshole, Matt, but I thought you weren't that much of an asshole," she quipped dryly. He clamped his mouth shut, jaw tense as he pursed his lips.

"Fine," he stood up abruptly, gripping his cane before holding it in front of him. 

"You're doing this for Foggy. Don't fuck it up for him just because you've got a stick up your ass," she huffed as she stood up too. 

He shot her what she presumed was a dirty look behind his glasses before he started walking away, his cane swinging in front of him. His irritation about the situation only made her want to do it more. It was his own fault really for acting like such a bitch about the whole thing. He was asking for her to make it worse for him. She started walking home as a plan formed in her mind. She'd get nice food and decent booze and she'd get to piss Matt off in a setting he had to behave in. She was actually looking forward to it. 

As soon as she got home, she called their firm, knowing Karen would be the one to answer.

"Nelson and Murdock, Karen speaking," came the voice down the phone. Daphne trapped the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she tugged off her hoodie and tossed it in the laundry basket.

"Hey Karen, it's Daphne," she said casually. 

"Oh! Hi!" She sounded genuinely happy to speak to her and she wondered why she'd never bothered to speak to Karen more since she was so close to Foggy and Matt.

"I know this is weird, we haven't really spoken much. But I wanted to ask a favour since we're going on a double date," she said carefully, flopping onto her sofa.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Don't tell the guys, it's kind of weird for me. It's just… this is mine and Matt's first date too and it's been so long. I was wondering if you'd help me get ready for the date? I wanna look really good. I mean I know he can't really see, but he just somehow knows these things, right?" She grinned, cringing at how hard she was going at this. She felt a tiny bit bad at lying to her but she ignored it. 

"Of course! I'd… I'd really love that. I'm nervous too and it'd be good to just have some girl time," Karen said softly. 

"Thank you, I really appreciate this. We could go to the restaurant together when we're done," Daphne smiled pleased with herself. After exchanging cell numbers and goodbyes, Daphne sat back on the couch with a smirk. She wanted to turn heads. Not only just to irritate Matt, using her knowledge of him finding her physically attractive against him, but it had been a while since she went out. Usually she did so with a goal in mind, to have sex. And she would turn heads, a lot of them. Tonight was different but it didn't mean her ego wouldn't enjoy being looked at. It certainly would be interesting. 

[gwoongi]

best years

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: best friend au, bff-to-lovers au, fluff, angst, guk is pining rating: general words: 2.6k warnings: its a short little fic, sort of like one chunk of a big chocolate bar and im gonna slowly feed u one chunk at a time until you’re sick and full a/n: a squint into the mind of bff jeongguk who will star in an eventual “idol best friend” series that i routinely dream about but have always felt it disrespectful to write about but at the end of the day everything i write is fiction and jeongguk would probably be less offended by a “canon divergence bff au” than he would reading my drug addicted rockstar au so :-) read it & weep folks

Jeongguk’s always been scared of the rejection he might receive from you. He might be a dream for fans across the world, but there’s a split second where Jeongguk feels like he might not be good enough for you. He’s the world to other people. But you deserve the whole galaxy, and he’s afraid that’s something that he might not ever be, even with the money, and the fame, and the doubts he tries to hide.

Jeongguk was taking a pretty big risk, he knew that. It was risky taking any step out of his house at any moment, even on the days where it was pouring outside; he’d think he was safe until he made it to the end of the road, earphones snug in his ears, and the flash of a camera behind the shrubs in the corner of his eye blinds him back to his front door in a twisted shame. 

Granted, he’d expected it to be worse as he booked a plane ticket and made a rather hasty, in-the-moment journey to the airport and on a plane with no layover. Usually when Jeongguk takes a journey overseas, there’s at least one or two fans hiding in the corner of the suites waiting for him, or someone on the plane who’d recognise his face. For this, he’d suck it up and take a photo. It was better to have good PR, and be a little bit pissed off that he’d been discovered, than to have bad PR and to be known as the member of BTS who didn’t give a damn when the ‘real’ reasons for travel were taken away.

But Jeongguk thought the risk was worth it this time. The plane touched down in Manchester, and from there, it was an hour long train journey to a station he didn’t know anything about to meet a friend of yours he’d only seen in Instagram pictures. You were at University now, a face he saw on a screen rather than a face he quite literally woke up next to months before. It had been four months since Jeongguk had seen his true best friend, and fuck anybody who was going to make him wait a second longer before seeing you again.

You were his greatest risk, but it was worth it. You were worth it.

“Fuck, it’s insane to actually be meeting you right now.” Frank is a good guy, ginger with circle glasses rested on the end of his roundish nose. He led Jeongguk out of the train station, offering to pull his suitcase for him. “I mean, I’m a huge fan.” Followed by a sigh and a quiet, “Who isn’t…?”

Jeongguk smiled at him, squinting in the sun as it hit his eyes in the direction of Frank’s face. “Thanks. I hear a lot about you, too.”

Frank grinned, whipping his head towards Jeongguk. “All sexy and scandalous things, I hope. You know, none of us believed Y/N when she said she knew you. We thought the pictures were Photoshopped, you know how she is.” They both paused by the side of the road going one way only, “Shit, she’s gonna freak out when she sees you.”

That was three minutes ago, but Jeongguk’s still playing that sentence on a loop. He walks alongside Frank down one of the streets, past a redundant furniture store that quirks his brows. A man stands in the doorway, a cigarette out of his mouth and ash dropping to his toes bare in sandals. It smells like doughnuts, and weed, and he smiles brightly. He’s missed the UK, and how unbelievably shockingly awful it is when you’re not looking at picturesque photos of London online.

“I thought you’d know that Y/N’s my best friend,” Jeongguk says thoughtfully. He pauses as Frank does as a car zooms past when they’re about to cross. “I mean, people know. The photos got leaked, all of them.”

“Hey, give me a break,” Frank says dramatically. “I only became a fan three months ago. And yeah, I figured. Finally, I understood why all the white girls studying Korean here wanted photographs with her and to be her best friend…”

Jeongguk frowns. “Is it bad? She doesn’t tell me this stuff on the phone. I mean, they go crazy on Twitter when she posts pictures and we interact, but I didn’t…”

Frank shakes his head and grins at Jeongguk until the words die out. “Nah, don’t panic. It’s not that bad. If anything, she might get a kick out of the fame. Trust, there’s always gonna be the girls who hate her because she’s friends with you and that’s like, what, threatening to their fantasy? But she loves you a lot, and a friendship like yours...it’s kinda like family, you know?”

Jeongguk feels his stomach flip, kind of like butterflies. These butterflies are sour, his heart racing that extra bit quicker. He likes the sound of family. He doesn’t like the way Frank implies it, because if Jeongguk is ever going to consider you as family, it won’t be as his sister. You’ve never been his sister, even when you were part of his family growing up. There were times you came to all of his Korean family events, the times his family called you their own, but you were never his sister. It was different to that, you both knew it but never acknowledged it.

Frank makes small talk until they make it to the student accomodation you currently live at, and because Frank knows basically everybody, a student comes to the gate to let them both in. They’re nice, big and pretty-skinned, wearing an Aston Villa shirt that Jeongguk remembers looks a lot like your Dad’s back in the day. Might be the same, might be a vintage.

He smiles at him, because maybe this guy knows Jeongguk, but the guy just turns back into the common room and doesn’t come out again. Frank doesn’t live here, he lives in a flat of his own around the corner, but Frank might as well be a resident here. He lets himself in towards the lift and shoots a text to one of your flatmates.

“Apparently she’s in the shower,” Frank says casually. He locks his phone, taps his foot as the lift rises, “Let’s hope she doesn’t stride out completely stark naked as you’re in there.”

He almost blushes, “Ha, yeah.” He declines to mention the times you two have showered together, the time you went skinny dipping together when you were fifteen. Those were things that might end up getting misunderstood, and those are his memories he’d like to keep hidden and secret. He says nothing, nothing but a thank you when he enters your flat with Frank and takes a different turn to the left as Frank goes right, towards the kitchen.

Your room is at the very end, your name on the door in stickers from a set you got from the 99p store, and from inside, he hears the music in the bathroom. The door opens silently and closes with the same volume, and Jeongguk manages to wheel his suitcase to the end of the bed and plonks himself down. As expected from pixels on the screen, your room looks better in person- white walls and a bed set that’s white with a peony pattern. Above your desk, Jeongguk recognises all your photos together, new polaroids of you and the friends you’ve made at University who Jeongguk always felt kind of threatened by. He smiles to himself, and rests his neck at a strange angle against the wall your bed is literally attached to. From here, he can see the bathroom door in the mirror on the opposite wall, but he knows you’ll only see his feet when you come out.

Speaking of which; the Fleetwood Mac song ends suddenly and the shower water has stopped running. Jeongguk hears the toilet flush and his heart starts to race. Four months of falling asleep on Facetime and texting when there was no time left in the day, and now, here he is, on your bed, waiting for you to step out and...and, then what?

Maybe you didn’t even want him here. Maybe you were happier now that Jeongguk was in Korea and you were still at home, in a new city with new friends and a new life. Maybe the memory of Jeongguk was burdensome. Worse, maybe he was something you felt you had to remember but didn’t really want to.

Jeongguk’s always been scared of the rejection he might receive from you. He might be a dream for fans across the world, but there’s a split second where Jeongguk feels like he might not be good enough for you. He’s the world to other people. But you deserve the whole galaxy, and he’s afraid that’s something that he might not ever be, even with the money, and the fame, and the doubts he tries to hide.

The bathroom door opens and in two seconds, the light is shut off and he hears you sigh.

“Frank, you gotta stop letting yourself in here without telling me,” your voice says. “Good thing I’m semi-decent. Usually I’m not.”

“No fun,” Jeongguk teases, and silence follows. There’s a pause in the room, and Jeongguk cocks his head with his left cheek on his shoulder, waiting for you to click and appear in front of him. Suddenly, there’s small but quick thuds across the carpet and Jeongguk feels his chest tighten with a nostalgic feeling as you come into view with wide eyes, damp hair and nothing but a bra and those stupid black worn leggings you refuse to throw out.

The grin that reaches Jeongguk’s eyes now aches as he laughs at you, at the way you gape in his presence. It takes a moment, a moment of what feels like could be the rejection that Jeongguk absolutely fears, but then you smile so wide that Jeongguk feels it in his stomach.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim loudly, bringing a hand to your mouth as you hurry towards the bed. It dips beneath your knees and Jeongguk rises up to a sitting position. “What the fuck!”

He laughs out loud, and when you’re next to nothing away, Jeongguk wastes zero time in bringing you into his arms, tightly hugging you.

“Careful, my hair’s all wet,” you squeak.

“Don’t care.”

He really doesn’t. There’s probably going to be a damp spot on his clothes after, but that’s okay. You groan loudly with happiness as you hug him in return as tightly as he is hugging you, your weight on his lap and your arms around his neck. Jeongguk smiles so wide, sighing with content into your neck. Here, he smells the marshmallow wash on your skin, the fragrance of your hair that kind of reminds Jeongguk of cabbage patch babies.

“You smell good,” he mutters. You laugh quietly, squirming when his nose sniffs across your neck like one would kiss. “I don’t.”

“You do, you always smell good,” you reply. One sniff, he laughs, “See!”

“Mmm,” he plays along, “the sweet smell of planes and trains and jetlag.”

That makes you laugh, and at the mention of jetlag, Jeongguk realises he could probably fall asleep like this given the chance. He has missed this, missed you, so fucking much. The emotions are overwhelming. 

Jeongguk kisses behind your earlobe, and just underneath your jaw. That’s new. Jeongguk was a cheek-kiss kind of best friend, but never this. You’re not complaining. Your head drops to one side, almost giving him more access to the space free, and he occupies it. Those fucking butterflies; Jeongguk feels sick with nerves as he kisses you, under your chin and across your neck, on that spot on your collarbone you found out tickled after Seven Minutes in Heaven in Year 8. Maybe your fingernails in his hair are a way of you telling him to stop- it’s something he can think about tonight if he can’t fall asleep, something he doesn’t care to think about when he kisses on your actual jawline, to your cheek and the corner of your mouth, your cupid's bow.

He moves away with a blush that matches your own, but maybe you can’t see his in the colour of your fairy lights. He plays with the confusion as he moves the hair that's across your face around your ears, smiling and raising his eyebrows. Jeongguk convinces the role of casual to perfection and bites back a sour taste when he notices you’re the same. Casual, unmoved, maybe even like it didn’t mean a thing.

“Your hair is so fucking wet,” he sniggers boyishly.

“I told you,” you shrug. You shrink, relaxed, “Fuck, Guk, why are you here? I mean, I’m literally so happy, but...Are you gonna get in trouble for this?”

“I dunno,” he admits. “Maybe, probably. I mean...the guys know I’m here. Hoseok drove me to the airport with Jimin.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Jeongguk sighs loudly. “Yeah, I know. Frank told me all about the girls.”

“Little fucker. Is he here? I’ll punch him for mentioning it to you. It’s honestly fine. Girls will be girls.”

“You’re my best friend for life, it’s important to me that you’re not uncomfortable by it-”

“I’m not,” you assure him, hands trapped in his hair. “Damn, this got long. Didn’t look long over the phone.”

“Was growing it out,” Jeongguk replies. “Heard you fancied Keanu Reeves, couldn’t handle the competition.”

“Ha!” you retort. “Simp.”

“For you,” frowns Jeongguk dramatically.

Conversation fizzles comfortably, to the point where you both forget that Jeongguk’s underneath you and your legs are wrapped like a koala around his middle. The fact that this is normality for you both is ignored. You’ve done worse things together. Jeongguk even knows that the bra you’re wearing now is one he bought for you. That could be why Jeongguk feels the way that he does, why this confusion wraps around his body and traps him. Jeongguk knows that the butterflies in his stomach don’t just appear because you’re his best friend he hasn’t seen in a while. He knows what they mean when they flutter when your name pops up when you’re calling him, when an interviewer tries to catch him out by bringing you up in another interview that you don’t need to be mentioned in.

Jeongguk knows that coming here was worth the confusion, and the nerves, and the fact that this will be a headline when it gets out. JEON JUNGKOOK GOES TO UK TO VISIT HIS BEST FRIEND...BUT ARE THEY MORE? Or worse, NETIZENS HAVE PROOF THAT BTS JUNGKOOK IS DATING HIS BEST FRIEND Y/N…

He doesn’t want to hurt you. That’s how he feels scared. For you to be scandalised by an article online that caught him out in his feelings, he knew it wasn’t fair. Jeongguk might be too afraid to say he’s in love, and too afraid to find out if you feel it too, but he’d risk those feelings and the headlines if it meant spending one more day with you.

Jeongguk’s got a week and a half with you. Something’s gotta give within this week. He doesn’t want to go back to Korea with more regrets than he came with, and for now, he’ll just have to swallow those butterflies back down when they pour out of his mouth. Right now, he can’t afford to be caught out. It has to be known on his own terms, when the timing is perfect. It has to be perfect, because it’s what you deserve. It has to be perfect, because if it isn’t, then Jeongguk doesn’t think it will be worth it.

Losing you to a headline and a butterfly is out of the question. One tries to escape when you hop off him and shrug on a jumper from out of your wardrobe. If you noticed his unease you didn’t mention it. He wants to cry, wants the confusion to go away for the night so he can enjoy it.

Fuck.

For now, he thinks as he follows you with an arm around your shoulders out of your bedroom and towards the kitchen to meet the others, he’ll just have to fake it til he makes it. Just like always. Put on a face, put on a show, until it all feels worth the spillage. He can’t let the butterflies escape yet.

It has to be perfect, and he’ll have to be patient.

[scribblesofanaricat]

Night Terrors

I don’t share a bunk bed with my brother anymore. We don’t even sleep in the same room, the one with the curtains we picked together years ago. Tiny little silvery stars and rockets. Those curtains are gone now, though. The last time I saw them was when our mum snatched what was left of them off the carpet and crammed them into the bin. Like they were poisonous. Maybe they were.

It’s always here, around corners and under blankets and creeping through the gaps in doors. It’s in the cold that clings to every hair, no matter how far it has to follow. And people don’t like seeing reminders of it lying around. Even the stuff that has what they call ‘bad energy’ - the something that prickles at the back of a neck and throttles a heartbeat - has to be tossed away, or destroyed.

Well, sometimes.

There’s a lot of it they haven’t noticed yet. Or so my friend tells me.

My brother’s already demolishing the peanut butter when I trudge into the kitchen. He just about manages a grunt of greeting through his ballooning cheeks. But Mum’s head jerks at the sight of me, gaping at something on my front. I slide my gaze in the same direction. Oh. Right. My pyjama shirt is hanging off my shoulders, looking a lot more like a castoff than something that was just bought a week or two ago.

She heaves a very mother-ish sound through her nose when she doesn’t spot any injuries on me. “This is the fourth time you’ve come down looking like that now. If that’s how you treat the clothes I buy you…” She doesn’t finish.

It’s not like I can help it.

We were just playing a game, that’s all.

I say nothing.

She goes through the usual: tugging a navy blue blazer, stripy tie, too-long greyish trousers, porridge-coloured socks free of the knotty mass brimming in the dryer and tossing them in my direction, sending me back upstairs to my new smaller room to change clothes, advising me not to show my face in the kitchen again until I’ve made myself decent.

In plodding my way across the landing to my new bedroom, I pass the door to that old one, off-white, faintly sheeny, shut tight. I spare a few seconds of thought to whatever happened to our bunk bed, mine and Elliot’s. Don’t think I’ll ever find out, though. Our mother’s let the door handle go neglected and gather as much dust as possible. That way, if either of us touch it, she’ll be able to tell. It’s occurred to me more than once that I could just prod the door open with my foot without messing with her genius trap, but I’ve never acted on it.

Walls have eyes and ears.

The new room is all right, considering. Elliot volunteered for Sofa Duty, in his words, so I’ve got it to myself, but it doesn’t really feel like mine anymore: plain yellowish-white curtains now, matching carpet, my books stacked in sloppy heaps instead of arranged on wall shelves. But it is mine and I’m going to have to get used to it. At the very least, it’s the closest thing I have to my own safe hideaway. Wonder if that’s what all those others thought too, once upon a time.

My friend likes it in here; it’s dark and I keep it that way. Lights switched off, curtains pulled to, never a torch beam or even a lit candle to dart across the shadows. Mum doesn’t really like it when we have our curtains hanging open anyway, not since all this happened - actually, right now, she probably doesn’t want me or my friend touching any in the first place. Not that either of us ever set out to rip apart the old ones, the ones with the rockets and comets and constellations stitched all over them. It just...sort of happened.

They like to play, simple as that. Even when they get carried away, go a bit far, whatever the phrase is. It’s fine.

Yet my mum never seems to agree that it is. Fine, I mean. I’ve tried telling her about my friend before, about the adventures they come up with, but no matter how I put the words together, they collapse on me like a card house. Running further and further away the more I chase them. And even when they don’t, I just slam head-first into “excuses” and “childish” and, more often in the last couple of weeks, “no, I’m tired and I don’t want to hear it”.

It stings. By now, though, I’ve learned to stay quiet and let all the blame drop onto me. A shrug. A side-glance. A muttered sorry. Of course, my friend never says sorry, but that’s fine. She probably wouldn’t believe them either.

I sling my pyjamas down; the mattress catches them in a raggedy bundle (not my fault, I didn’t mean to, neither of us meant to). A tiny comfort is the knowledge that my friend hates fussy school uniforms as much as I do, even if they don’t really understand why it can’t just be discarded whenever we feel like it.

I heave a breath, watching its mist slowly billow into the air. Cold. Shadows play in the corner, called up by the light forcing its way past the curtains. Part of me - the same part of my heart that my friend has made themselves at home in since the day I first met them - dares them to twitch closer.

But they don’t. They don’t.

By the time I trudge downstairs, there’s a cereal bowl, spoon and chipped cup of juice plonked in front of my chair. Even though I haven’t liked apple juice since I was about eight.

“Oh, there you are, finally…” Mum tweaks the pile of rags out of my grasp and blows out her cheeks. “You know, I was just saying to Elliot that if the pair of you socialised a bit more, got some friends who lived nearby, you could go to school with them every morning instead.”

My spoon pokes at the cereal: another thing I can’t help. Its texture is just...wrong. I do. They just don’t want me to go around telling other people about them yet. I peek over at her, but her head (puckered lips and all) is bent over what’s left of my pyjamas, turning them back to front and inside out as if counting the holes. She always has her hands and head full with other things, I guess. Especially now.

“Come on, get that cereal down you before you go. I don’t want to have to come and fetch you home if you faint at school.” She only shoots me half a glance - the rest of her gets sidetracked by twitching aside the kitchen curtain just enough to push her nose through the gap - but it falls on me like a hot coal all the same. She hates it when I do this, the thing she calls ‘pecking at my food’.

I swish my spoon around in the bowl, its contents quickly transforming into some sort of rice krispie paste. “It’s too soggy,” I say dumbly. How else can I explain that cereal doesn’t feel or taste right anymore, not when I know there’s far better things to devour, my friend’s shown me them-

She doesn’t deign to reply.

Elliot bolts out of the door twelve minutes ahead of me, with a flit of his fingers in reply to our mum’s scattery warnings to pay attention and don’t dawdle out there and get yourself home by four - by four, Elliot. Behind their backs, I quietly scrape the remains of my cereal into the bin and embark on a hunt for my shoes. My friend must’ve moved them from where they were sitting under the radiator to dry out after yesterday’s downpour. They do stuff like that.

I guess it’s their way of venting annoyance; their idea of a tiny revenge. Admittedly, it turns out they can’t really do a lot unless I’m there with them.

My hand has only just touched the front door handle when- “Four o’clock sharp, d’you hear me?”

“I hear you,” I mutter. I’m about to close the door behind me when it’s flung shut from the inside, barely avoiding snagging the edge of my blazer. It’s okay.

Force of habit cranes my neck for a glimpse of Elliot’s stringy limbs or maybe the marmalade-coloured backpack hanging lopsided off his shoulders. Nothing. Nothing except for the mist breathing on my clothes and hair and leaching what colour’s left out of the leaves.

That’s all right with me. He only tries to elbow me into hedgerows and signposts whenever I tag along with him.

The laces of my beaten-up oxfords flail with every step - sometimes over splotches of used chewing gum or the muddy dregs of puddles. The walk to school takes forty minutes or so; more if some road or another is taped off. That’s been happening here and there, for the same reason that all the news channels are urging the parents not to let their kids out by themselves. To go along with them, look out for them, instead of just harping on at them about curfews.

I kick out at a pebble sitting right in my path, scuffing my shoe-toe even more as I go. Forty minutes each way. She won’t come outside of her four walls for that long. Not anymore.

In any case, there’s no one around now. No one to spot me edging my way through the closest thing to an opening to be found in the tangled trees and bushes. Sliding down a bank of weeds and moss and slimy leaves. Skidding just a little on the fringes of what my neighbours still call the park.

The sky could be dressed up in its best shade of blue instead of scribbled in school-pencil grey and it wouldn’t make any difference to this place. Most of the footpaths have disappeared under a slush of long-dead leaves and scraggly fallen feathers; the sludge-coloured pond a little way ahead smells just like all the litter it’s been collecting. That’s probably why it feels as if nobody ever really comes here, not even for the sake of a shortcut (well, nobody except the pigeons jostling one another for spots on the rusty benches or on the branches dangling over them like dreadlocks).

At the same time, though, no one seems sure what to do with it, so here it is. Rotting away. And I have it to myself. We have it to ourselves.

They’re quiet all the same. That’s typical, really. Familiar. I suppose it’d be sort of weird to a lot of people - as if I’d ever share this stuff with anyone else to begin with - but neither of us does much chatting; we don’t need to. They invent games for us, I join in and that’s how we understand each other.

Sometimes.

Other times, they stray into something I don’t want to...like with those silvery curtains. And just like then, I always end up doing it anyhow. It’s fine. It’s only games.

A dig to the stomach from their icy-cold fingers and I realise the sun’s conquered more of the sky since I last looked, casting a puddle-shadow in front of me. Any time now (or maybe already), the school receptionists are going to try and get hold of my mum so they can quiz her on why I’m not squashed into the back row of the Geography classroom.

I drop my head against the lumps of the swing chain, rocking along with it as one toe prods an on-and-off rhythm into the carpet of wood chippings and built-up gunge below. It’s okay; her phone’s nowhere to be found most of the time. And even if she does happen to have it with her, she hardly ever picks up.

It’s no different now. Now that the dread of being watched - hunted - is constantly beating itself against her skull.

That’s what’s been happening, or what everybody thinks is happening. Hunts, stalking. People set foot outside or just upstairs, or even from one room to another, and then never come back. Nobody knows how, nobody knows where or why, no rhyme or reason as to who’ll be next. The first time a pack of authorities glanced over it, they took it as a standard child abduction case, ‘til word got out that it wasn’t just kids who were getting plucked from their homes.

And that’s why everyone’s always on the lookout for bad omens now, for changes in the water and shifts in the air.

My cold forehead creases at that thought.

...but would they recognise things like that, even if they spotted them?

There’s a murmur in my ear as my friend shifts; they swipe at the strands drooping over my forehead, jab at my ribs, tug at my fingers and feet. Hungry for fun.

“No. Not now, just...not now. I don’t wanna get attention from anyone ‘cause they’ll ask why I’m not at school...we don’t know who’s around and they don’t get it…” The last few words trip me up. With a shuddery breath, I bring out the only thing I know for sure will get them to be still. For now. “They might take you away from me.”

And there we stay, swaying and swaying with the swings, until the sun starts sinking towards its rest.

*

The dark is one thing, but nights send prickles racing across my skin. A black curtain swallowing the sky, billions of stars glinting in warped shapes behind the clouds but none of them making any difference. My friend likes them, though. They say their games work much better in the dark.

I bid Elliot a mumbled goodnight that he doesn’t return (our mother’s already in bed with a cup of her icky organic tea) and plod upstairs, and the shadows follow me.

I barely manage to toe my door shut before they - my friend, my only friend - leap like a flame, shoving me to my knees.

Pain, cold pain, sears through my bones. On my neck, inside my throat, frigid hands silence my cry; another voice buries the harsh tearing (clothes, skin, muscle). A voice that cracks like dried flesh and somehow sounds so like mine anyway- but it can’t be mine- it’s theirs, the words are theirs, I’m theirs-

“Let’s play.”

[reirashi]

Prompt: "You promised you wouldn't hurt anyone if I came with you willingly to heal your friend!" Kakasaku please! (and if you're okay with it, maybe Kakashi is the one abducting Sakura to heal Obito...? I wasn't sure if abduction counted as 'forced') Thank you!!

Sorry for the delay! This is set after the fourth great war, assuming Obito’s body is somewhere to be found.

Chrysalis

Kakashi had been different recently. Changed. Sakura hadn’t paid specific attention to it till their team meeting where Kakashi had zoned out completely. Normally he was never an active participator in conversation, but he was always present. The small crinkling of his eye when he heard something funny, or the furrow in his brow when Naruto plunged on about Sasuke. But this time was different. He was absent somehow, a vague distance in his eyes.

Nobody else noticed and somehow that bothered her more.

So, on that fateful night, when Kakashi crawled through her window, shrouded in the darkness and rain, Sakura was surprised but not that surprised.

More pissed off than anything that he had taken down three of her potted plants in his ungraceful manoeuvre.

…And slightly wishing she were dressed better than her ratty shorts and cropped t-shirt, no bra and tub of chocolate ice-cream shamelessly half-eaten in hand.

“Kakashi!” She exclaimed aghast and chastising all in one.

Her outrage fell on deaf ears and all she heard was the broken rasp as he called her voice, “Sakura,” agonised and conflicted.

“What- What’s wrong sensei?” Suddenly, her motherly concern overtook every other self-conscious thought, and she plonked the tub on the table and walked over to him hands outstretched ready to help.

But he turned away from her caring gaze, instinctively shied away from her.

“You have to come with me.” Was all he said and not a word more, eyes still glued to her pink carpet.

“Sensei, what do you mean? Where to?” She added when he offered no further information, her concern growing to panic.

“I-” he stopped, swallowing thickly. Sakura had never heard him hesitate in her life. “You need to heal someone.”

Sakura exhaled in a huff of relief, “Of course Sensei. Who? Actually, never mind, where are they? Let’s bring them to the hospital, or are they already there?”

Immediately tying her hair in a messy bun, and walking around her apartment looking for the all the right items to make her decent, she didn’t notice Kakashi’s stillness till she was hopping back through her kitchen, looking for her other shoe.

“Sensei what is it?”

He said nothing so she stopped her manic dressing and looked at him, but his head was turned away.

“Sensei,” she repeated, a hardness to her voice.

“We can’t bring them to the hospital. We have to go to them.”

“Uh okay, then we’ll have to stop by the hokage tower for the permission slip-” she paused thinking aloud, “Actually we might have to stop by Kotetsu’s office direct since it’s probably after hours.”

“Sakura.” Kakashi raised his head for the first time since arriving, and in his eyes she saw all the thunder and darkness he had brought in from the outside. “We are not getting permission.”

“But Sensei-”

“Pack your things. We are leaving now.”

Crossing her arms across her chest, Sakura’s expression was tight as she replied, “Do I have a choice?”

He said nothing, but his dark expression said it all.

“Fine.” Was all she said, as she stormed off into her room and threw her mission and medic items into her bag, grabbing a few extra weapons and body-guards just in case.

When she returned to her living room, Kakashi was standing ready to leave, her potted plants tidied and moved aside, and her window locked.

“How do we even-” Sakura questioned bitterly, but Kakashi interrupted her.

“Follow me.”

In the next day or so the pair did nothing but travel in absolute silence. Sakura, though wanting to bridge the uncomfortable gap, struggled to squash her hurt pride at Kakashi’s lack of trusting her with information. Eventually though, the silence grew too much, and just as Sakura had resolved to break it with some inane topic, her words morphed into a scream as she plunged from the height of the tree that had been her footfall, her shoes - unsuitable for this terrain - how was she to know! - squealing against the wet bark as she slipped.

Strong fingers wrapped around her wrist, catching her mid-fall. Though he had been a good few trees ahead of her Kakashi had got to her quick. Silently he pulled her up, sliding a hand around her back and pulling her up by the waist once she was close enough.

The bark was thin and covered in wet moss. Kakashi held absolutely still to prevent them tumbling over the edge. Grabbing onto his vest to steady herself, her eyes met with Kakashi’s for the first time that night.

There was a sadness she wished to soothe away, her fingers twitching in response. Kakashi too, did not pull away like usual, he held on a beat longer than he normally would have.

Then, in the blink of an eye the walls were up again, and instead of the inches between them there was a chasm.

In one step he had turned away and leaped to the next branch, leading the way, but not before a few unexpected words of reassurance slipped out, “We’re almost there”.

Sure enough, half a mile or so later, Kakashi slowed down before dropping silently to the ground below. The ground was wet and mossy, little light filtered through the thick canopy of trees overhead.

Kakashi led them to a large overgrown fern, twice Sakura’s height. He reached in and peeled apart the two walls of leaves which camouflaged some kind of entrance. They stepped inside to a dark, eerily silent space. Sakura couldn’t tell if it was a cave or a hollowed out tree.

Kakashi stopped wordlessly at the far end of the circular space, placing his hand gently onto what looking like a sort of ledge. Sakura walked slowly closer till she was by his side, her footsteps squelching in the wet mud. As she passed around the broad cover of Kakashi’s back her eyes laid upon what wasn’t a ledge but some sort of glass coffin.

The gasp got caught in her throat as she realised it wasn’t glass but some kind of membrane. She reached out her fingers to touch it, but a hand clamped down on her wrist stopping her fingers just before they touched.

“It’ll break.”

“W-who set this up?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you are going to make it work.” There was a long pause after which he turned around and walked out the small space, announcing in a low voice, “I’m going to get firewood, get started.”

Sakura stared at the coffin in disbelief, sending chakra to her fingers to feel it out. She shuddered on first contact, immediately understanding who and what was inside.

She turned around and sprinted out the enclosure, panting like she couldn’t breathe. Once outside she used her chakra to get some indication as to how far Kakashi had gone and took off running in the opposite direction.

She barely made it three miles before she skidded to a stop, almost colliding face-first with an anbu mask. She hesitated confused, not sure in their eyes which side she was on.

“Are you here for me? Can you help?” Sakura asked in a shaky voice.

The woman paused, caught off-guard by the Godaime’s apprentices’ words.

“Haruno-sama, you left the village without permission early this morning. Was this against your will?”

It was Sakura’s turn to pause. Would this be selling Kakashi out?

“Well...”

She didn’t have time to debate her principles because Kakashi appeared behind the woman, slick as a shadow and with a speedy chop she was at their feet like a sack of potatoes.

When Sakura met Kakashi’s eyes there was a darkness she couldn’t quite make out.

“Okay, okay.” Laughing nervously, Sakura held up her hands in resignation. “I’ll come help heal your friend, just... just don’t hurt anyone else.”

Kakashi was silent but Sakura couldn’t take his stony exterior and turned away, walking stiffly back the way she had come.

A few paces in they froze as another anbu member appeared from the trees and Sakura opened her mouth to explain holding her hands up placatingly, but before she had a chance the man’s eyes went wide and foam from his mouth escaped the bottom of his mask, before he hit the ground with a thud.

Sakura shuddered as the thick, oppressive wave of a genjustu passed over her.

Kakashi without his Sharingan was just as powerful and terrifying as he was with.

But the fear lasted only a few second as she regained courage and spun around, slamming her fists on her teacher’s chest.

And from Sakura that shit actually hurt.

“You promised you wouldn’t hurt anyone!”

“I promised no such thing.” He hissed in a low voice.

Sakura turned away angrily, realising he was correct, but that only fuelled her anger at him. Because she had expected the answer to her earlier request to be a given.

“Huh, that’s funny,” she scoffed mirthlessly, “I guess I mistook you for the Kakashi that actually gave a fuck and didn’t even need to be asked.”

Launching into a sprint, Sakura was back at the enclosure in a few minutes, her extra speed fuelled by anger and frustration. Kakashi silently kept up with her, wordless as he entered behind her.

Glowing with a deep green like the colour of her eyes, Sakura drew her hands across the top of the coffin, breathing deeply as she tried to concentrate and calm her emotions.

It could have been hours or mere minutes that Sakura stood there pulling her chakra across the vessel and exploring deep inside with Kakashi a silent protective or restrictive - whichever way you looked at it - presence behind her.

After analysing the structure Sakura began to prod, slipping beneath the skin and using her energy to pull the tissue together and stitch the seams.

A firm hand on her shoulder shocked Sakura out of concentration, and she extricated herself from the inner view of the tissue she hand been focusing on and looked over her shoulder.

Kakashi was watching her with a concerned look on his face. The same Kakashi as always. Only then did she realise the sweat dripping down her face and soaking the small of her back. The breath seemed to leave her the second she stopped the flow of chakra to her hands, and she slumped forward, body heading for the ground.

Kakashi caught her against himself, holding her still while she caught her breath. Eventually when it became apparent Sakura wouldn’t be moving any further, he slipped his arms around her waist and hauled her up, moving her to the other side of the enclosure where he had at some point, laid out tarp and blankets as a makeshift bed. It was clear he had visited here more than once, and over a long period of time too.

It carried on like a routine, for several days Sakura pushed herself to the absolute brink of exhaustion whilst she healed. Kakashi said nothing, he knew her well enough to know when Sakura became determined like this there was no stopping her. All he could contribute in his silence, was support in the way of catching her when she fell and putting her to rest, waking her after a few hours and guiding her half asleep to eat, before she fell asleep, woke up and repeated the cycle again.

Guilt clawed at his heart like a cancer and the longer it went on, the deeper their silence became.

Till one night, Sakura who had aside from that first experience, been stopping of her own volition, fainted and Kakashi who had been nearby just barely made it to catch her. He gently laid her down onto the bedding but was surprised as his fingers brushed her skin. She was burning up. Ripping his gloves off and pushing her hair from her face, he pressed the back of his palm against her forehead, cursing under his breath at the heat of her skin.

Her body convulsed slightly, and he noticed she was shivering, sweat had been pouring out of her skin and now her wet clothes were sticking to her body, causing her to tremble from the cold. Hesitating he pulled back the cover, and carefully lifted her soaked shirt over her head, rapidly pulling off his flack jacket and long sleeve shirt. Taking great care not to jostle her too much, he pulled his long sleeve top over her, aching at how the fabric drowned her small frame.

His hands stopped at her exposed legs, fingers lingering at the waist band to her skirt and shorts. With light touches he could feel their dampness but was battling with himself on what to do. Eventually he withdrew his hands, rummaging instead for the cloak they had worn during their travels and wrapping it around her body tightly.

Appraising her still shivering form, Kakashi clad only in his sleeveless mask-attached under-top, climbed under the thin blanket, and settled next to his student. Awkward at first, he agonised over how to position himself, before eventually he managed to shift her onto her side and he his, turning over to envelop her, resting her head against his chest, and his legs tangled with hers.

He thought he would never sleep that night. From the worry, the stress and mostly the guilt.

Surprisingly however he was out like a light. It seemed with Sakura firmly tucked in his arms, he finally had the mental peace to close his eyes and enter a state of deep sleep for the first time in days.

---------

Sakura awoke to a persistent thudding against her ear. Thinking she had slept too heavily on one side, she shifted to try roll over, only to find her body pinned in place. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to find her view blocked, that combined with the familiar scent of rain which she associated with her Sensei, Sakura looked up in surprise to find it was Kakashi who was pinning her.

Craning her neck upwards, her surprise quickly dissipated when she saw the look on Kakashi’s face. For days he had slept beside her, and while she had been borderline comatose most of the time, whenever she had woken briefly in the night, the look on Kakashi’s face always bothered on her.

Now was different. He seemed almost peaceful. His breathing steady and even, his eyebrows relaxed, his mouth...

Without thinking twice Sakura’s fingers crept up, carefully pinching the edge of the mask.

Slowly she inched the material down, anticipating some form of horrific revelation or divine retribution as she carried out what felt like borderline sacrilege. Instead, she was incredibly surprised at the completely normal soft, pink, top lip that appeared, contrasted by the dark of the mask as it cinched in the gap between his lips.

Sakura’s heart thudded in her chest, not quite wanting to admit to herself why her current view made her feel this way.

Glancing surreptitiously up at Kakashi before she made the final tug to reveal the rest of his no doubt completely normal and annoyingly handsome face, Sakura startled when her eyes met slate grey ones, half covered by long lashes.

Frozen like a delinquent caught in the middle of a crime, Kakashi moved so quick she didn’t have a chance to worry about being reprimanded. His eyes were wide with sudden awareness and swiftly he switched their positions, rolling Sakura onto her back so he could assess her with wide eyes.

Sakura could hardly breathe when, pushing his forehead protector and fringe out of the way, Kakashi leaned over and pressed his forehead against hers, checking her temperature.

She felt his warm breath across her cheeks as he sighed deeply in relief, realising belatedly she only felt it because she had pulled his mask half-off. Distracted by the fact, and with his face in better view on top of her, Sakura couldn’t stop herself reaching up and slipping her finger back into the edge.

Long fingers curled around her wrist stopped her, and she found her hand pinned above her head before she knew it. A smirk found its way onto her face. There were many things she couldn’t keep up with her teammates on, but competitiveness was not one of them. She stretched up across the short distance between them, tilting her head and daringly grabbing the edge of the mask between her teeth.

Even Kakashi didn’t know how to react, frozen as he was.

Pinching and pulling the material, she stopped when her lips brushed against his warm ones, the gravity of their closeness finally sinking in. Her teeth parted and the material slipped from between them, her lips still barely against his.

She didn’t know who started it. If she bridged that hairsbreadth gap or if he pushed down first, their slightly parted lips finally pressed together. It was gentle at first, his eyes closed as he seemed to sigh in almost relief, before the life returned to his eyes. Kakashi was back. The same Kakashi that was fire and fangs and cutting intelligence on the battlefield was viciously moving his lips against hers, heavy breaths barely escaping in between, before his hand not pinning her wrist grabbed her jaw and held it tight, coaxing it open. His tongue slipped in, hot and wet and then he froze. Almost as if he remembered what he was and who he was with.

He pulled back, his lips not wanting to separate from her swollen ones, but he only made it a handspan away from her before he found himself thrown sideways, flipped onto his back and pinned down by his student.

Sakura smirked darkly, she recognised his reaction, knew what he would do, and knew she wouldn’t let it happen. He wasn’t allowed to retreat now and act like nothing had happened. Not after that.

Pressing her lithe body against his, she leaned down and gently brushed her lips against his, parting them only to draw her tongue across his lower lip before she pressed down in a fierce kiss. He resisted valiantly for all of ten seconds, before his lips parted, his mouth opened, and he gasped as he let her in. Strong hands grasped the thighs straddling his wait, squeezing the soft flesh as his mouth was ravaged. Unable to take inactivity anymore, one hand reached up and around her back, threading his fingers in her soft hair and tilting her head to the side whilst he moved his mouth down, biting her bottom lip, nipping along her jaw, drawing a wet trail down to her neck where his teeth pinched sharply before sucking on the reddened skin.

It seemed to be a weak spot for Sakura as a shaky exhale mixed with a soft moan escaped her. She craned her neck further to the side to give him better access, whilst her body naturally melded closer against his, her hips rubbing against his and oh sweet heavens did she just grind against her sensei’s-

Sakura’s thought process was interrupted as her body lilted to the side and was overtaken with a numbness and tingling that was most definitely not pleasure.

“Kaka-” Sakura gasped; the light-headed sensation combined with Kakashi assaulting her neck was proving too much to think around.

Clumsily she managed to extricate one hand from his chest and slide it up to her neck where she all but slapped it across his face. For a moment Kakashi hadn’t caught up and his tongue slid against her hand and between her fingers and oh my god that’s way sexier than it has any right to be and maybe it’ll be ok if I let him keep going and pass out like this...

But it was too late, Kakashi had caught up and awareness was bright in his eyes though understandably not yet down below. He leaned up on his elbows, his hands immediately circling her face, tilting her head towards him so he could assess her.

“M’ok,” Sakura mumbled, dropping her head against the palms holding her cheeks. “Just a bit faint,” she sighed breathlessly.

“Sakura.” His voice was thick with emotion and rough around the edges in a way she had never heard it before. “I’m so-”

Sakura interrupted him, fingers covering his mouth as she rested her head more fully on his shoulder, her voice muffled by his body, “Don’t. It was me too.”

He was silent as he manoeuvred her body to be more comfortable on him, but Sakura could practically hear his guilt and worry.

“Just... help feed me some water.” Kakashi sat them both carefully up, bringing the canteen to her lips and guiding her to drink. Sakura couldn’t help but marvel at the strangeness of it, they had gone from anger on her part and silence on his end, to passionately making out, with no discussions or resolution of conflict in between. The weirdest thing of all was how natural it had been. And how much she hadn’t wanted it to end. Sakura had no idea she had such inclinations towards Kakashi till now. Sure, there had been the odd thought here and there, but it had never been something manifestable in reality. Judging from the deep, bewildered concentration on Kakashi’s face, it seemed he felt the same way. Behind his upfront concern for her, it seemed he too was contemplating what had just happened and why they had reacted the way they had.

Granted, she was still very much cradled in his lap with her head resting on his shoulder, so maybe now really wasn’t the time for such musings.

Sakura didn’t move till she felt truly stable and ready and Kakashi didn’t hurry her either. A part of her feared the distance he would put between them the second she was on her feet, and so she revelled in the attention as he carefully helped her sip water and supported her sluggish body against his own. After the last week of painful awkwardness and distance between them, this was a welcome excuse for closeness, and Sakura enjoyed it so much she had to hold herself back from snuggling against his neck and chest.

Eventually she felt stable enough to raise her head, and she did so tentatively, pausing for a moment whilst the ringing in her ears passed. Nodding to herself once, she looked up at Kakashi who had been watching her intently.

“Help me up.”

Wordlessly he slipped his hands around her slim waist as he crouched and gradually brought himself into a standing position, carefully bringing her with him.

Once up, she leaned heavily against him as the blood rushed through her body, and while she waited for the sensation to settle Sakura was reminded of Kakashi’s tall, lean form as she pressed against him. Clad only in his undershirt, his muscles stood out through the thin material, his naked arms even more so.

Since when did Kakashi get so hot? Or more like why has it taken me so long to notice!

Sakura sighed at the blindness of her youth, wasted away on trivial teenage boys that never returned her affection or valued her abilities.

And yet here was someone who valued her enough to kidnap her and use her for a top-secret project which he had asked of no one else. To Sakura, who had always been kept in the dark, always the last to know, she felt almost honoured by the inclusion, if it hadn’t been shrouded in such secrecy.

Returning to the matter at hand, Sakura slowly stepped away from Kakashi and towards the chrysalis, her fingers gently stretching out. A firm hand around her wrist stopped her and Sakura looked up at Kakashi who bore an angered, agonised expression.

“That’s enough!” He bit out between clenched teeth, and Sakura could tell he was angrier at himself for making her do this than he was with her for wanting to continue.

Sakura smiled softly, turning her wrist around and slipping her hand into his. Gently she turned his hand over so her palm lay atop his.

“It is.” Sakura began in a quiet voice. “It’s enough. This is the best I can do; the rest is down to nature and him to finish the process.” Sakura looked at Kakashi meaningfully, spreading the glow of chakra through both their hands so he could see what she saw too.

“I’m sure you knew this already when you bought him to such a place, but this chrysalis heals at its own rate, we cannot control it. I’ve repaired the structural damage to the organic form of the capsule and connected his body to it, so it should start to work now.”

Kakashi’s eyes were tight as she continued, glistening from the reflected light of her chakra. “It could take months, years or even decades for it to draw from nature all the energy it needs and naturally heal his body. Now there is nothing more we can do.”

“I know.” As Sakura had thought Kakashi did understand the workings of the chrysalis, and if it wasn’t Kakashi then she would be surprised he was willing to wait and even miss the revival of his friend. As it were, she knew all it really matter to him was that he lived eventually, be it now or in many years, that one day he would get to live the normal life they had, and that he had missed out on.

Kakashi’s voice was quiet as he spoke, withdrawing his hand from beneath hers.

“Thank you, Sakura.” His head was low and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Sakura placed her fingertips on the edge of his jaw, the dim light casting shadows on his handsome, distraught face.

“If you had just asked, I would have done it. If you had just told me from the start.”

“I know.” Kakashi replied, voice low.

A slow smile spread across her face as she drew closer to him, speaking his true intentions aloud, “But you didn’t ask because if we were caught, you didn’t want me to be held accountable.”

“Oh Kakashi.”

Kakashi looked away, swallowing thickly, he replied, “I’m sorry Sakura. For everything.”

Slipping her hands around his waist, she hugged him tightly until he put his arms around her. Drawing back slightly she touched his face delicately, her expression one of deep empathy.

“I am so sorry for you Kakashi, for everything you went through, and for dealing with this alone.”

It was the first time anyone had ever acknowledged Kakashi’s losses, even months after the war was finished and over, due to his laidback disposition no one ever realised how much he had suffered, how much he had lost.

With a fierceness she wasn’t expecting, Kakashi returned her hug tightly, burying his face in her hair, his tall form trembling. Sakura rubbed his back soothingly, returning the embrace with as much strength as she could muster, feeling like it was only her arms holding the pieces of this man together.

Eventually he pulled back, pressing his forehead against Sakura’s, he whispered a thanks against her lips before he drew away.

Placing a hand on the chrysalis Kakashi closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and uttered, “Goodbye Obito,” before turning away.

Within minutes they were packing their stuff and clearing away their bedding, ready to leave.

Suddenly Sakura froze, a very obvious realisation dawning.

“Did-did you change me?”

Kakashi rolled his eyes at her, “That’s what your worried about?”

Considering this for a moment, Sakura conceded with a shrug, “fair point,” and returned to packing.

The journey back to Konoha was far less stressful and they took it at a relaxed, sedate pace; though a knot of anxiety did sit in the pit of Sakura’s stomach at what would happen upon their return.

“Hokage-sama!”

Sakura snapped her neck around at the sound, searching for the voice and its direction which seemed to be them?

“Hokage!?” Sakura turned incredulously towards Kakashi.

It all made sense. He wanted to square of all his debts before taking on the heavy title of hokage, which had been his teammates dream.

Sakura smiled to herself, shaking her head in disbelief, as she went over to the desk to sign her name in for leaving and returning, then quietly snuck away leaving Kakashi to deal with Shikamaru’s badgering. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Kakashi, head slightly bowed as he sheepishly apologised and offered a half-hearted explanation.

She made it only a block away before she was pulled into a secluded area between buildings, and before she could yelp in surprise Kakashi’s familiar face came into view. She opened her mouth to protest, a million questions on her lips, but closed it, knowing Kakashi would explain when he was ready or knowing him probably never.

As she stared silently at him for those few seconds, she struggled to decipher his expression. It was… soft almost?

Kakashi’s gloved hands circled her face, the warm tips of his fingers brushing her cheekbones. Her eyes fell to his lips, though she could not see them as he leaned close and whispered in low voice, slightly rough around the edges, “Thank you”.

She felt the gentle press of his warm lips against her forehead, lingering only for a moment extra, before she looked up and he was gone in a swirl of leaves.

Sakura chuckled to herself, the madness of the past few days starting to settle in as was the now glaring fact that she apparently had a massive crush on not only her Sensei, but also her village’s hokage.

Well, she shrugged to herself in thought as she continued the trek back to her apartment, at the very least he probably has a crush on me too.

[cloversweets]

11:39pm

pairing: piers x reader

genre: fluff

a/n: read on ao3! this got SO out of hand lolol. i originally started writing it as a drabble for an anon requesting something fluffy but it ended up being 1. way deeper than i expected and 2. way LONGER than i expected! anyway pls enjoy these 3.2k words of fluffy, awkward, domestic piers/reader lolol

It’s late when you hear knocking at your front door.

It’s been a hard day - harder than most, in fact. Work sucked, and you had the worst ride home in a flying taxi you think you’ve ever had thanks to the awful Galarian weather and an especially bad-tempered Corviknight at the helm. But now, finally, you’re home, bundled up on the sofa with some tea and blankets after a nice, hot shower. Peace, at last.

Well, until now.

You pull yourself up off your comfy sofa with a huff, taking a second to straighten out your comfy pyjamas before you go and give whoever it is that’s still banging on your front door a piece of your mind.

Of course, that plan goes out the window as soon as you yank open the door. You’re ready to begin lecturing, only to see Piers slouched in front of you, greeting you with tired eyes. “Oh,” you say in lieu of greeting, and Piers takes this as his change to push gently past you, his heavy boots making a racket on your wooden floors.

“Nice to see you too,” Piers responds, and your head turns to follow him as he wanders into your apartment - until you have the sense to close your front door again. By the time you’re finished locking up, Piers is standing in the middle of your living room with a plastic bag in hand, surveying your furniture with a critical eye. After a moment he glances at you, and sees your eyes on the bag swinging from his hand. “Ah. I forgot to mention. I brought food.”

You hum in response, moving back to your comfortable spot on the sofa. “You also forgot to mention that you were even coming over in the first place, actually. And pushing past me like that? I’d tell you to make yourself at home, but you obviously already have.”

Piers shrugs and mumbles something vaguely apologetic, but you know he’s not actually feeling all that guilty. “I was playin’ a local gig an’ decided I’d pay a visit,” he says, and finally decides to plonk himself down beside you on your sofa after he places the plastic bag of food on your coffee table. Now you’re close enough to notice how good it smells, you realise just how hungry you are. “It’s from the Slowpoke tail place you like.”

You meet his eyes and can’t help but smile. You didn’t even realise he knew it was your favourite. “I’ll get cutlery,” you tell him, moving to stand, but he puts out an arm and stops you where you are.

“I know where everythin’ is, don’t worry,” he tells you, standing up before you’ve even gotten the chance to argue. “It’s the least I can do for intrudin’.”

“You aren’t intruding,” you call after him as he clomps to your kitchen, the heels of his boots clacking loudly. “I’ve just had a hard day, and I’m so tired. Sorry if I was rude.”

You hear clattering in the kitchen and lean over your sofa, trying to peer through your open door to see what he’s doing to your lovely, tidy kitchen drawers. “Don’t worry,” he responds, his voice ringing clearly over the racket. “I get it. You look tired, if I’m honest.” With that, you hear him banging your cupboards closed and the noise of his heels moves closer again.

“I don’t think that’s a polite thing to say,” you tell him, but he just shrugs as he reappears in your doorway. You smile sweetly at Piers as he re-appears, and he watches you suspiciously. You pause for a moment, holding back laughter as his expression grows more into the perfect mixture of unimpressed and panicked. “You know what would help, though?” you finally ask, breaking the tense silence.

“What,” is his deadpan reply, sheltered in the doorway as though you’re going to leap at him from over the sofa.

“Taking off those bloody awful boots of yours.”

He huffs at this, and heads over to place the handful of cutlery he’s holding next to the bag of food on the table. “You’ve got no appreciation for style, you know that?” he grumbles, but you notice that he’s walking a lot more lightly. Your wooden floors will be just as grateful for it as you are, you’re certain.

“I do have an appreciation for my eardrums, though,” you tell him, and lean forward to finally start digging into the food he’s brought along. You open the bag and peer in, spotting the Alolan-style spiced vegetable and Slowpoke tail stew you love sitting at the very top. “You got my favourite!”

“‘Course,” Piers tells you, fiddling with his boots somewhere near the door. “What, y’think I don’t remember what you like?”

You’re too busy trying to pull the lid off your stew without spilling it to reply with something intelligent, so you settle for shaking your head once you hear him padding over to sit on the sofa again. “No,” you respond, absentmindedly glancing over at him for a moment. “I’m just grateful.”

With a roll of his eyes, he gently pulls the container out of your hands. “You should be,” he mumbles, but his voice is softer. You pick a spoon from the table in front of you as he carefully peels off the lid of your food, and take it from him when he slowly hands it back. “Careful not to spill any, yeah?”

You give him a thankful smile, and he meets your eyes for a moment before he looks away. You can see the tips of his ears turning pink against the dark black streak in his hair, and you hide your smile behind a bite of spinach.

The two of you eat quietly for a little while, with the only noise in the room being the quiet music you’d put on when you’d gotten in from work. “So,” you eventually say, disturbing the quiet. “How was your show, then?”

Piers shrugs, shuffling from his slouched position on your sofa until he’s facing you. “Pretty decent, y’know,” he tells you through a mouthful of noodles. “I like it ‘round here. Crowds are always amazin’, and they never seem to mind that I don’t do encores. It’s easier to leave when you don’t have a room full of people shoutin’ after you, wantin’ you to keep the show goin’.”

You hum, scraping the bottom of your bowl with your spoon for the last little bits of stew. “You’ve been playing a lot more since Marnie took over,” you note, and he shrugs again, but you see a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he fiddles with his chopsticks. “Have you been having fun?”

“Course,” he says, looking up from his food. “To be honest with you, I didn’t realise how stiflin’ it was to be Gym Leader ‘til Marnie took over for me. I was only really holdin’ the job for her. I’ve always been more into music.” With that, he pauses for a moment, lowering the container in his hands to his lap. “Well,” he says after a moment. “You helped a lot, actually.”

You raise your eyebrows, keeping your eyes on him as you lean over to put your empty box onto the table. Arceus, that stew never fails to make you feel better. “Me?”

Piers shifts, his ears turning red again. “Yeah,” he says, and his eyes move to inspect the chipped nail polish on his fingers. “I know I might not act like it, but I’m glad I tagged along with you when all that stuff was happenin’ with those stupid posh brothers. An’ it might sound bad, but I’m glad you beat Marnie for Champ, too. She’s done more for Spikemuth than I ever could, an’… well.” He shrugs, glancing back up at you. “I finally feel like I’m comin’ back to myself, you know? I couldn’t really handle the responsibility, an’ before I met you, I was, ah… a bit depressed, if ‘m honest. Now, though…”

“You’re a lot happier, right?” you ask, and Piers nods. “It doesn’t sound awful, you know. Marnie is an amazing Leader, and it’s because she loves battling. In the same way, you love music. You had to sacrifice that to take on a lot of responsibility at a young age, so… I don’t think you should feel bad.” Piers watches you, and you give him a smile. “I wouldn’t.”

Piers is quiet for a while after you speak, peering down into his box of noodles. He eventually moves to sit them alongside your box, the chopsticks clinking against each other. “That’s what I mean,” he eventually says, sitting back and taking a minute to get himself comfy. You don’t know how he manages in those skin-tight leather trousers he has on, but you don’t comment on it. “If I hadn’t met you, I’d be beatin’ myself up like mad over it. Now, though, I’m just thankful. Marnie is happy, Spikemuth is growin’, an’, y’know… You’re Champ, an’ everythin’ is good. I’m just… thankful for the stuff you’ve done.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you tell him, reaching out to pat his bony knee. “I just did what I had to. And, just so you know… I’m glad I got to know you, too.”

There’s a silence after you speak, and though it’s tense with something, it’s not awkward or weird. It just feels like there’s something unspoken - but this has become blatantly obvious the more time you spend with Piers. Sure, there was a spark during that random battle during your quest to become Champion, but it’s grown, blossoming into a comfortable companionship. Comfortable enough for deep talks at 12:30am in your apartment, anyway.

If you’re being honest, though, you haven’t really been open with yourself; you know, slowly but surely, you’re developing feelings for Piers. Piers, though, being the aloof grump he is, has never even hinted he feels the same way. Now, though, as you watch the blush on his cheeks grow as he picks at the black nail polish he wears, you’re beginning to second guess that.

With a deep breath, you decide to take a leap of faith. Why not, right? So, knocking your knee against Piers’, you speak up. “Piers, can I ask you something?”

He looks up quickly enough that it betrays his cool, even while he’s straightening out his leather jacket and brushing back his messy hair a second later. “‘Course.”

Your hands are sweating with how nervous you are. You clear your throat, but you can already feel how hot your face is growing. “Um… this is a weird question, but please don’t be, like, mad, or creeped out, okay?” you ask, and Piers nods, the confusion evident on his face. “Is - I mean, do… do you think there’s something between us?”

Piers isn’t daft, and he knows what you mean straight away - you see it in his droopy eyes. He doesn’t answer immediately, though; instead, he opens his mouth as if to speak, and closes it again after a moment of silence. “Well,” he eventually says. His voice is shaky. There’s another long pause. “This is unexpected.”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” you say quickly, but he shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine. I just wasn’t expectin’ it.” He looks at you and you can tell he really means it. You guess he’s just not used to vulnerability like this - but, at the same time, he’s been vulnerable with you from the very beginning, ever since he admitted to you that he blamed himself for the fact that you were the first challenger he’d had in a while. “If I’m bein’ honest, I do,” he eventually says. His pink cheeks are so bright compared to his hair and black clothes. “I’ve felt it for a while, too.”

“I felt it the first time we met,” you tell him, your voice shaking. The excitement - or maybe it’s adrenaline - is rushing up inside of you, though, and you can’t help the way you start to babble. “I’ve always really liked you, Piers. You don’t hide anything, and you’re so honest about your feelings. I really appreciate that.” You pause, face burning, and an idea hits you like a truck. It’s a risky choice, but you take a deep breath before you speak again. “Do you want to stay the night?”

Piers looks away from the hole he was boring into his own skinny legs to meet your eyes, obviously in shock. He’s stayed before - crashing your apartment after a gig isn’t that rare of an occasion - but this time it’s different. He knows you’re not inviting him to attempt to curl his lanky legs up into a comfortable position on your little sofa, anyway. “You mean - right now?”

You nod, determined to not back down. “No funny business, I promise,” you tell him, and he slumps back into a more relaxed position. “I just… it’s late, but I want to talk about, um, us, but… I think it’s too late, but I wouldn’t ask you to come over again tomorrow morning just to talk, and I think it would be kinda weird to make you stay on the sofa like usual-”

Piers cuts you off with a wave of his hand. “I get what you’re sayin’,” he interrupts, and you thankfully take a much needed breath. “Mind… you’re sure y’mean no funny business?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and you can’t help but clock him on the knee. He doesn’t even flinch, much to your chagrin.

“Of course I mean no funny business!” You’re telling the truth, really, but you can’t help but poke fun. “I mean, unless…”

Piers glares at you from the other side of the sofa, shrinking into himself like a particularly angry turtle. “Don’t push your luck with me,” he grumbles, but you can see the pink on his pale cheeks. “I’ll stay, though. It’s gettin’ late, after all.”

“Yeah,” you agree, stifling a smile behind your palm. “Very dark out there.”

Piers fixes you with a death glare. “Very.”

You can’t help but snigger at your own stupid pun after that, and you reach out to knock your knee gently off his bony one. “Okay, mister,” you tell him, pulling yourself off the sofa with a lot of effort. Even despite your heart-to-heart and the way that you’re giddy from excitement from Piers sharing a bed with you, oh Arceus - you can’t deny the fact you’re in a total food coma. “I’ll let you get changed, shall I? I’ve got some clean clothes you can sleep in fresh out of the dryer, actually.”

“Will they fit?” Piers asks, taking the hand you’ve reached out to him with an even brighter blush than before. You roll your eyes, playfully pushing him towards your kitchen.

“We get it, you’re over six feet tall, but you don’t need to worry,” you tell him, and you grin at the smile just about playing on his lips. “Clothes are on top of the dryer, and you can change in the bathroom. Have a shower if you want, actually. I’ll clear the food from the living room, yeah?”

Piers allows you to push him to the washing machine but catches your wrist in a gentle hold before you can turn back to the living room. His fingers are cold, but it feels like his hand on your wrist has you glowing from the inside out. “Hey,” he says, and his voice is more gentle than you think you’ve ever heard it. “Thanks.”

You give him an easy smile, trying not to betray the fact that your palms alone are sweating buckets. “Of course, love.”

It doesn’t take long after that for you to clean up the living room and kitchen - though your record timing might be because of the fact that you seem to be running on pure adrenaline. You double check that you locked the front door and turn all the electronics off before you head to your bedroom. The sound of the shower coming from the bathroom gives you just enough time to throw your dirty laundry in the washing basket and add a little lavender oil to your humidifier before you hear the sound of water shutting off.

You peer around your room, checking it’s not… well, romantic, you guess. It’s still kind of messy - there’s an empty mug from this morning on your bedside table you should really take to the kitchen, actually, but you ignore it and clamber into bed anyway.

It’s just a friendly sleepover. Seriously. You have no ulterior motives, and you know Piers doesn’t, either.

So why are you so nervous?

A few minutes later, Piers meanders into your room and gently closes the door. You can’t help but giggle at the way he looks - he’s fresh faced, his poofy hair tied still into a top knot to keep it from getting wet, and he’s in the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in - a pair of black sweats and a baggy white t-shirt.

“These clothes are even big on me,” he tells you, and you shuffle over to make room for him to sit on the edge of the bed. He peers at you from over his shoulder, and without the smudged eyeshadow, he looks cute. “Why’d you have them lyin’ about?”

You shrug, pulling the covers up to your chin to hide your smile. Okay, well. This definitely confirms that you’re embarrassingly smitten. “I just like wearing big clothes.”

Piers breathes out a little noise of laughter, and then… there’s a weird pause. You’re waiting for him to climb into bed, but he’s not moving. You look at each other for a long moment before you snort, hesitantly patting the mattress beside you. “Um… I won’t bite, you know.”

That seems to be the confirmation Piers is looking for. He shimmies his way up the bed, clambering in as carefully as he can with his long, bony limbs. “I know that,” he grumbles, but the tips of his ears are pink again.

It takes a few moments for the two of you to settle in, and… well, it’s kind of awkward, but not as painful as you’d imagined. To avoid it growing uncomfortably silent, though, you lean over and turn off your bedside lamp, leaving only the glow of your humidifier. It’s quiet, but the sound of Piers’ breathing is more relaxing than you realised. Now, with all that adrenaline out of your system, the tiredness from earlier hits you like a truck.

“You’re fallin’ asleep already,” Piers says, clearly amused. You grumble, shuffling further into your covers - and perhaps a little closer to Piers. Perhaps.

“‘M not,” you try to argue, but even you can hear the way you’re slurring. You huff out a chuckle. “Had a hard day. So tired. Go ‘sleep.”

“I will,” Piers tells you, but his voice is already growing more distant as you doze off. You think he might be taking the opportunity to move a little closer, but you can’t be sure. Either way, you’re so comfy. “Thanks again. Let’s talk in the mornin’, yeah?”

You ‘mmm’ an affirmative, and then you’re out like a light.

And, well, if you happen to wake up in the morning to Piers’ lanky arms wrapped around you like a Komala, gently snoring against the back of your neck, you certainly won’t complain.

[fanficshiddles]

This wasn’t part of the plan, Chapter 16

I have a leak! What’s the landlord’s number? I need to contact them. Thanks! x

Melody sighed as she waited for a reply from Tom. But she was annoyed because she could see that he’d read it ten minutes ago but hadn’t bothered to reply. Meanwhile her toilet was out of action because of said leak.

She just phoned him and got one ring in when her doorbell rang. She rushed over and looked through the peephole, seeing Tom there looking at his phone. She hung up and opened the door.

‘You have a leak, miss?’ Tom grinned and held up his tool kit.

‘Seriously?’ Melody laughed as he stepped inside. ‘You didn’t have to come all the way over, I was going to contact the landlord and get them to sort it. Or get a plumber.’

‘Nonsense, it’s hardly far. And any excuse to see you.’ He said cheesily as he kissed the top of her head, making her roll her eyes.

She followed him to the bathroom and leaned against the door while Tom got sorted. She was slightly turned on while watching him roll up his sleeves and then get down on his knees to fix the toilet. But she tried not to think about that too much…

‘Could you have a bigger tool box?’ Melody teased when he opened it up and it had many layers, bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside.

‘Every man needs a decent tool kit.’ He winked at her.

‘I’ll take your word for that.’ Melody shrugged. ‘Tea?’

‘Of course.’ He nodded.

When she returned with his tea, he was almost finished already.

‘That was quick!’

‘Easy enough fix if you know what you’re doing.’ Tom said cockily.

‘And of course, you know what you’re doing.’

‘Always. There isn’t much I don’t know about.’ Tom packed up his tools and took the tea from her.

‘Of course there isn’t.’ Melody groaned and walked out of the bathroom.

Tom stalked after her to the living room, finding her plonking down on the sofa. He joined her and put his tea down, then he turned to her and put his arm around her, pulling her flush against him.

‘I do appreciate it, though. I thought I was going to have to go in a bucket.’ Melody said, resting her head against his chest.

‘Dirty girl.’ Tom chuckled and pinched her side playfully, making her squeak.

‘You’ll need to leave the number for the landlord.’

‘Why?’ Tom asked.

‘In-case I ever need to contact them. More plumbing emergencies or whatever.’ She shrugged.

‘Just call me. You don’t need to worry about anything like that.’ Tom said as he rubbed her arm.

‘What if you’re busy though?’

‘I’ll never be too busy for you. I promise.’

‘Don’t make promises like that, Tom.’ Melody sat up and tried to put a little distance between them, but Tom clamped his hand on her upper arm to keep her from going too far.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ He frowned.

‘Making promises you might not be able to keep.’

‘I never make promises I can’t keep, Melody.’ He said firmly.

‘Why don’t you want me to have the landlord’s number? I know you’re paying for the apartment, but I am living here so it makes sense to be in touch.’ She wasn’t wanting to give up.

Tom growled and pinched the bridge of his nose. He pondered for a moment, then turned more to face her. ‘You are far too stubborn sometimes, aren’t you?’

‘Apparently I get that from my mum.’ Melody smirked. ‘So, come on. Who is my landlord? There must be something more to it, since you seem to not want to share their information?’

‘It’s me.’

Confusion fell over Melody’s face. And disbelief. ‘Come on, just tell me.’

‘I’m serious, Melody. It’s me. I own this apartment… In-fact, I own this entire building. All twenty apartments.’ He said honestly.

Melody’s mouth opened, then closed again. She didn’t know what to say. Or what to think, even. She closed her eyes and opened them after a few seconds.

‘I… Wh… Why didn’t you tell me in the first place? You’ve lied to me this whole time!’ She shot up to her feet and started pacing. ‘This apartment is yours? I should’ve known.’ She ran her hand down her face.

‘I didn’t tell you because I thought you’d turn down the place if you knew I owned it. And I haven’t lied to you, darling. You never asked, not outright. I wouldn’t lie to you.’ He leaned forward but allowed her space, for now.

‘But you still didn’t think to tell me something big like this?’ She screeched, still walking back and fore.

‘Come and sit down.’ He patted the sofa where she had just been sitting.

She shook her head and kept pacing. ‘I can’t believe this.’

‘Melody.’ Tom barked, getting her attention she stopped and turned to face him. Her face like thunder.

‘Sit down.’ He said firmly. ‘Let’s talk this through, calmly.’

Melody bit her tongue but did as he said and sat down next to him again, but she tried to give herself a little bit of distance between them. Tom didn’t allow that though, he shuffled over so their thighs were touching and he put his arm around her.

‘I knew that you would argue back if I told you in the first place that I rent out the apartments here. But when this one became free a few days after I met you, and I saw the state of your last place, I knew this one would be perfect for you. It was sitting empty, so why not?’ He shrugged and started rubbing her back in circles.

Melody leaned forward and put her face in her hands with a groan. ‘I did wonder… Rana and I were confused as to how a college teacher could afford a place like you have, and this place for me. Plus all the extras. But now it makes sense.’

Tom chuckled. ‘Well, we are actually on a higher salary than you might think. But yes, most of my income is from this place.’

Melody let out a big breath and looked at Tom. He slid his hand up to the back of her neck, underneath her hair, he squeezed her lightly then gently stroked her skin.

‘I didn’t want to lie to you, pet. I just didn’t think it was worth mentioning beforehand. Please, don’t hate me.’

‘I don’t hate you.’ She grumbled. ‘I just… Wish you had told me in the first place.’

‘If I had… Would you have still agreed to move in here?’ Tom asked knowingly.

Melody paused and looked away from him. They both knew the answer to that.

‘At least this way, I could assure that even if things didn’t work out between us that you could still live here comfortably. You wouldn’t have to worry about rent, or anything else.’

‘Do you still think that might happen?’ Melody asked.

‘Not at all. I’ve got you now. I’ll just tie you to my bed if I need to.’ He chuckled wickedly and hauled her onto his lap, making her laugh.

Tom held her tightly to him, even though she tried squirming off his lap he didn’t let her. He kissed her temple and then turned her face towards him, holding her chin. ‘Am I forgiven?’

Melody sighed dramatically. ‘I guess so. But on one condition.’

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Depends on what it is?’ He asked warily.

‘Can you change the light fittings?’

‘What’s wrong with the lights?’ Tom frowned and looked up at said lights.

‘They’re bloody awful. Like what my Granny would have, so old fashioned!’

Tom pouted, making her laugh. ‘Seriously, they do not go with the rest of the apartment.’

‘Alright. I’m sure I can change the lights for you. But I have a counter offer, too.’

‘Oh no. What?’

‘How about you and I go away next weekend. To Eastbourne, perhaps. Then we can be ourselves in public without worrying about seeing anyone we know from college.’ Tom suggested.

‘I… I didn’t realise that was what a sugar daddy relationship thing was about?’ Melody asked, slightly surprised with what he said.

‘It’s whatever we want it to be. And we can certainly take holidays.’ Tom smiled and smoothed her hair back from her face.

Melody shifted on his lap slightly. ‘I… I never thought about that before.’

‘Well… Now it’s been suggested, what do you think? Will you run away with me for the weekend?’ He grinned widely.

‘Uhm… yeah. Why not.’ She nodded in agreement.

[strongerwiththepack]

Private Waters: Part 1

I hear it's Virgil Tracy Week 👀 Virgil's birthday seems to have inspired a wee fic from me today. Been dealing with a bit of writers block so this was a nice change. This is just part one but I'm hoping (really hoping) that I'll finish it by the end of the week. Hope you enjoy x

Summary: Virgil's birthday celebrations are interrupted by an unidentified boat sailing into their waters.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] 

[Read on FanFiction.net]

---

"Happy Birthday!"

Virgil was ambushed by his family jumping out from behind various pieces of furniture as he entered the lounge. He knew they'd been planning this but he put on a face of surprise anyway. No point being a spoil sport.

Alan bounded up to give him a hug with an ear splitting grin on his face. The kids' energy was contagious as he accepted the tackle-like hug and chucked.

"Thanks guys."

There was a round of hugs to follow and Virgil felt a deep appreciation that he had this time to spend with his family. Even John was down. He gave his space-bound brother an extra tight hug. It had been a while.

Birthdays were a tricky affair in their family. They always planned a celebration but rescues commonly got in the way. He was lucky things had been quiet today.

He looked around finally noticing an absence and gave Scott a questioning look.

"Kayo?"

"Got called away by Pen this morning. She'll be back later though." Scott assured.

Virgil felt a hint of disappointment that she wasn't here but that's the job. He'd make sure to see her later.

His Grandma came up and kissed his cheek. "Happy Birthday Virgil."

She slid out a thin parcel from behind her back and whispered by his ear. "For my favourite grandson."

Although her version of whispering wasn't exactly quiet.

Gordon exclaimed loudly. "Hey! We heard that!" While Scott laughed and John rolled his eyes.

They knew their grandma loved them all equally but it wasn't exactly a secret she had a soft spot for Virgil.

Gordon plonked a party hat on his head as they sat down. Not exactly gently, he might add, as he felt the sting of the string pinging up under his chin. He glared at his brother but Gordon merely put on an innocent look, commenting "oops".

They actually got a full morning of present opening and silly party games that Alan had planned. Majority of them may be grown men but they weren't above indulging in some childhood traditions.

Virgil noticed John quietly excuse himself during a game of charades, and mentally sighed as he figured their festivities were about to come to an end. He could see Scott kept glancing the way John had gone too and knew his eldest brother was thinking the same thing. A rescue.

"Are we launching John?" Scott asked immediately when their brother returned.

John rolled his eyes at the assumption and explained. "No, it's not a rescue. EOS was just informing me that there's a boat that's crossed into our waters."

It wasn't much of a concern. The island is pretty much in the middle of nowhere but some boats occasionally stray into their waters. Usually, it's party boats that don't bother to research the areas they're sailing into.

Scott nodded, making to turn back to their game. Standard protocol was to radio the boat and inform them that they were in private waters and needed to turn around. John usually deals with it.

"Except there is a problem." John continued. "The boat doesn't seem to have a radio. It could be broken but EOS couldn't get through."

"Is there a chance of it being a threat?" Scott asked slightly tense now.

"Not likely. EOS identified it as a rental luxury yacht that's registered under an Australian family. Probably just lost but they are on a colliding path with the island so we'll need to turn them around."

Gordon sighed dramatically and stood up.

"I got it." He said and headed towards the door that led to the docks. "Don't have too much fun without me."

Virgil felt a pang of unease. "Uh wait up! I'll come too."

"It's fine Virgil, enjoy the festivities." Gordon tried to brush him off.

"I need some air anyway. A quick boat trip sounds fun."

"Awesome!" Gordon exclaimed. He loved it when any of them agreed to go out on the water with him.

Scott gave him a look as they left that clearly said be careful. He wanted to roll his eyes but he'd just had the same thought when Gordon was going to go so he couldn't say much.

They went out in their normal clothes since the whole point of keeping people away was to ensure the secrecy of international rescue. Bit of a give away to rock up in full uniform.

They took one of the speed boats and Gordon expertly manoeuvred then towards the boat in question.

It was a beautiful day. The light from the sun danced across the water as the boat skipped over the waves. He took a deep breath of fresh sea air as the wind breezed around them.

He should really come out here more often. Maybe he could convince Gordon to take him out scuba diving later this week. It had been a while since he'd done that.

It didn't take long before Virgil caught a visual of the offending boat in the distance. He looked back at the island, he could see the outline from here but there wasn't any detail. Good.

Gordon brought them to a controlled stop as the came up beside the vessel. Their boat was quite a bit smaller than the decently sized yacht but they could still see onto the deck. There were two men decked out in classic touristy clothes.

Gordon cut their engine and took the lead calling out.

"Hey there, how're you doing today?"

Up close it was hard to miss the beer bottles scattered around the deck. Virgil groaned internally. Did people not realise how dangerous sailing out in open water was? Adding alcohol into the mix was just asking for trouble.

He wasn't opposed to a couple of beers in the sun but by the way the men grinning and the fact they were practically wobbling to keep their feet under them on the mildly choppy waters he was pretty sure it was more than just a couple.

"Heyyy!" One of the men drawled in what Virgil placed as an English accent. "Just enjoying some fun in the sun."

Gordon, clearly as annoyed at the state these men were in as himself smiled loosely.

"Well I'm afraid you've strayed into private waters. You're going to need to turn around. Do you need any help with your route?"

"Duuude, I didn't know you could own water. That's awesome." The guy turned to his friend. "We should buy some water."

The other guy laughed. "You're wasted man."

These guys clearly weren't taking them very seriously. Gordon tried again.

"Listen guys, I'm glad you're having a good trip but it's illegal for you to be sailing here. Can I see your operating permit?"

Gordon's words seemed to finally snap them out of their stupor.

"Wow there man, we don't want any trouble. I'll get Davie, he's el captaino on this little boat of ours."

The guy chuckled at his words before heading below deck.

Virgil was relieved that neither of these men were in charge here. He only hoped the other guy wasn't as drunk as these two.

A new man appeared on the deck and Virgil took keen notice that he seemed stable on his feet.

"Gentleman, what can I help you with?" He greeted sincerely enough.

"Afternoon Sir, are you the permit holder of this boat?" Gordon inquired politely.

At the mans affirmative he continued. "Are you aware you're sailing in private waters right now?"

"My apologies, I wasn't aware. We'll change course right away."

The man said it like a dismissal but Gordon didn't take the hint. Most likely on purpose, there was definitely a lot of red flags here.

"Do you need any help plotting a route? I can show you the common tourist lanes if you'd like."

"Nah we're good thanks, the rental company plotted a route for us - must've just headed off course slightly. Good'day gentleman."

Virgil jumped in this time before they could make their exit.

"One more thing. We noticed you don't seem to have a radio. You really shouldn't be travelling in open waters without one."

The man gave a forced smile. "Oh yeah, it's busted. We'll be sure to get it fixes at the next port."

"Want me to take a look at it for you? I'm an engineer." He offered.

"No. I said we're fine."

Gordon narrowed his eyes beside him. "Look I'm not trying to be rude but could I see your permit? Just at a glance you're breaking a lot of regulations here."

A flash of rage passed over the mans face at Gordon's accusation and Virgil reckoned his brother was probably on the right track. He sighed. So much for a quick trip.

Before anything further could be said though there was a loud splash from the back of the boat.

"Roy!"

They both startled at the noise. Turning to see only one of the drunk men from before standing on the deck and a foamy patch of water next to the edge of the boat. It didn't take a genius to work out what had happened.

Gordon kicked off his shoes, diving into the water in seconds. Virgil leaned over the edge of their boat, ready to help once Gordon surfaced.

He had no doubt his brother would get the man. It's what they did after all.

"Oi!" He heard the captain shout.

He just barely spared him a glance, too focused on the water. But then he had to do a double take as he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

He slowly stood up with his arms raised above him. This was not good.

The other man on the deck placed a wide plank between their boats.

"Cross over." He was instructed.

His eyes had been fixed to the man with the gun unwilling to look away but he hesitated then. Sparing a glance towards the water he desperately looked for his brother.

Gordon had surfaced and was staring back at him with a grim look. He bobbed next to the other man from the boat and Virgil caught a glimpse of something reflective in the guys hand. A knife.

He could now see the way Gordon was gripping his upper arm with a grimace. There must've been a struggle. He clenched his fists at their helplessness here.

The unexpected bang of the gun going off made him flinch as splinters of wood hit off his legs. The man had just shot into the deck at his feet.

"Across. Now." He screamed and Virgil didn't need to be told again.

He wobbled his way across on the unstable plank. Once he was within reach the man, who had clearly shed his clueless drunk persona, roughly yanked him the rest of the way. He lost his footing on the deck and fell forward.

The guy behind him took that opportunity to push him onto his stomach, pressing a knee into the centre of his back and pulling his hands behind him. He felt zip ties being tightly fastened over his wrists as he twisted his head to the side, noticing the guy with the gun throwing a rope ladder over the side of the boat.

"And you." He shouted over the side of the boat. To Gordon presumably. "No funny business or your brother here's gonna get a hole in em."

He pointed the gun towards Virgil to emphasise his point. The fact that this man knew they were brothers was not a good sign. He was starting to think something bigger than they'd thought was going on here.

Virgil gritted his teeth as the man holding him down shoved his head into the deck before getting off him and moving to the ladder.

He slowly moved to a sitting position, grimacing as the ties cut into his wrists. He was up just in time to see Gordon heave himself over the edge of the deck with a grim look on his face.

His brother had barely gotten his feet under him before he was roughly tackled to the ground in the same way Virgil had been.

"Hey!" Virgil grunted out of reflex at seeing his brother crash onto the deck but he was promptly ignored.

Gordon turned his head to him as his wrists were tied the same as Virgil's and gave him a grimace that said I'm okay but this is not a good situation.

Virgil gave a barely noticeable nod back to confirm he was okay too. Gordon lay dripping water onto the deck and Virgil noticed the cut on his arm he'd suspected earlier.

The red mixed in with the water and seeped onto the deck below him. Virgil hoped it wasn't deep, the water probably made it look like it was bleeding more than it was.

Once the ties were secure, Gordon was yanked up by his shirt collar and pushed down again next to Virgil, leaning against the side of the boat.

The three men regrouped across the deck and began whispering loudly to each other.

"Scott is going to kill us." Gordon mumbled as he shifted into a more comfortable position.

Virgil couldn't help but chuckle at his brothers attempt to lighten the mood.

"I think that's the least of our worries right now. You okay?" He asked, eyeing the cut on his arm.

"Yeah s'just a scratch."

That did not appease his worry in any way. Gordon wasn't one to admit to being in pain. But he let it slide for now.

They needed to work out why these men were here and what they were after. He internally sighed at the trouble they'd managed to get themselves in.

What a way to spend his birthday.

[Next]

[originlist]

i just wanted to write laurel having Caring and being real mad about it @caimkairos​

It’s not like Laurel does much in terms of getting into situations she can’t find her way out if without dying, but she does have an ego that leads to biting off more than she can chew sometimes. Combined with not having a contracted Servant and it ends in there being some unfortunate missteps. But! She is not entirely alone. Friends come in handy. Laurel waltzes down Chaldea’s hall, a pleased spring in her step at avoiding danger, with her latest partner in crime alongside. “You saved my skin out there, Bei,” she says with a merry hum.

Bei deflects promptly. “It’s my job, and I’d like to keep you out of trouble.” It’s probably for the best she doesn’t die.

 “Nah, you did great!” Laurel isn’t going to fall for it. She hops a bit. “And we pulled out all a-okay, which is a new one for me. It deserves a celebration. You get to pick. It’s been a while since I cooked and magic takes calories, I’m gonna make snacks. Whatcha want?”

Bei thinks a moment, and when they speak it’s with careful syllables. “Something with meat… would be nice.”

Laurel pauses a step for that, a moment of surprise, before she carries right on as to keep things casual. “You like meat? How come you didn’t say anything?” She hardly eats it, out of incident ended up pescatarian at best, so if Bei likes meat and all the food in Laurel’s dorm she offers is mainly vegetarian, then that means… has she seriously been doing a bad job feeding them all this time?

Bei shakes their head to deflect immediately. “It’s not a big concern, don’t worry.” Sheesh, they even clocked that she was going to make a deal out of it. But still, they also sound hesitant, awkward, like they’re worried about how their words are going to be weighed, as if there’s something other than the face of the matter. “I can eat things that aren’t. I simply… feel fuller with meat”

Oh, so there was. Laurel stops fully now, turning to face Bei with her hands on her hips to make them directly acknowledge her expression, a mix of appalled and offended. “And you didn’t say anything?” They didn’t just ask?! Aren’t they friends?! She can’t even feed them properly! Bei’s protesting, flustered and self-conscious, trying to say something about how it’s strange, they don’t want to be strange, but— too late, Laurel’s grabbed them by the lapel and is dragging them off like taking a troublesome child to time-out. Only she’s doing so gently.

Laurel realizes she has no power whatsoever compared to Bei and isn’t even pretending. She also knows that they’d follow along with her when she wants. “I have to make up for what, so many bad snacks? This is an emergency.” If anyone’s in the kitchen doing whatever it is they do, they won’t be for long. Laurel is a one-man storm of misdirected emotional maladaption and she’s going to get her way.

What ‘her way’ is would be storming the kitchen, seating Bei down at a table that’s within talking distance from the nearest stovetop, and kicking out anyone who happens to be in earshot. It might have been a long time since she last made most species of meat food, but by God she’s not going to be shown up now. She ends up freeing a wrapped pack of bacon and something else she hasn’t expected yet from the group fridge (it was probably for someone, but she’ll pay them back later, or something, burn that bridge when she gets to it) and setting at least the former to sizzling on a pan.

She was distracted enough by it that she’d stopped talking, but now that all she’s doing is waiting to cook, it’s coming back. At least she’s a little quieter, and does the favour of being quiet until a batch of cooked bacon that’s only mildly burnt (it’s easy, okay, she’s not a professional) is plonked down before Bei, who’s been fidgeting.

Alright, she’s fine. Normal. Mostly! Bei eats and almost immediately tears up shoving a piece of bacon into their mouth, as if it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for them, and that makes Laurel feel a whole host of things all over again. Eurgh!

Their heart is full of… stuff? Feelings? It’s gross, whatever it is, and Laurel slaps another batch of bacon on the frying pan. “I can’t believe this whole time you were just sitting there and eating whatever without even saying it sucks. There’s a limit to being polite! If you can’t do it for you, think about how embarrassed I am, since I’ve apparently been feeding you shit and calling myself a host. You’re allowed to tell me the bacon sucks, too, I know it’s burnt, don’t lie.” And there’s the open explanation (in part) for this whole tirade, that she’s embarrassed that she never asked or knew, and now even more so that she’s not even good at cooking something as simple as bacon! For her friend! Argh! Shitty hosting, this is! Being embarrassed is the worst! The worst! Even redirecting it to this ridiculous reaction isn’t helping.

Bah! Laurel flips the bacon with an exaggerated grumble. The betrayal… the lying and making her think she has her shit together with having friends over even in Chaldea… it was all false! Couldn’t even do the basis of providing good snacks. “You!” She points the tongs she’s using accusingly at Bei, which is lacking threat mostly because the stove is separated from the seating area by an island and decent distance. She’s within ranting range, not accurate throwing tongs range. “Do you even like tea? Don’t be polite to save my feelings, give me a solid yes or no as to if the tea I give you is shit.”

Saying it was shit would probably make her even more exasperated, but she would follow through and procure better supplies. Laurel is nothing if not dedicated. At least this time, Bei nods quickly (hopefully not still lying to make her less whatever-she-is-right-now). They swallow a little too fast, hold back a cough, and nod again. “Yes! Yes. Don’t worry. Your tea is great. You don’t oversteep it and there’s always sugar on hand, so it’s good.”

Hmm. A moment, then: “Okay! I’ll take that!” Good enough, she’s going to take that as honest and pin her continuing pride on it. Good enough to keep Laurel from continuing to talk shit while she cooks. Bei’s free to go back to eating whatever she puts in front of them, including the burnt things. Laurel is, quite frankly, impressed.

She manages to cook the entire pack of bacon before she takes a break, and stops by sitting on the table next to Bei, watching them scarf food. They still look emotional about it and once they’re done they turn to her with eyes large, already stumbling out a thanks for her. Laurel just sighs, leans slightly against them so her face isn’t easily seen. “God, dude, you’re just so fucking… sad.” That’s probably not a good thing to say out loud. Redefine, clarify: “I don’t mean it like, pitiable or anything, you just. I used to be a pretty fucked up kid, y’know? You remind me of me when I was real little, before I turned into an angry bastard, only you’re even worse off, where I don’t think I can even say that we compare. And it makes me so sad.”

Everybody’s so fucked up. Especially here. Laurel’s got nothing on this and she doesn’t even know what ‘this’ is exactly, but there’s so many stories with Servants that make her feel like she can’t even claim she relates to some fucked-up-childhood story. But here she is. Probably projecting. Still, right now she sees somebody who was at some point told ‘hey. You don’t get to ask for things. You don’t get to have people who love you,’ and she can’t let that sit.

She can at least give this stupid idiot magic cat-goblin as much meat as they can fit in their body. “Y’know. I haven’t told anyone in Chaldea this, but like.” Why’s she talking. Laurel doesn’t even know, it just keeps happening. But it’s fair, right? She clicks her tongue. “Growing up for me sucked, and I have a baby brother back home. Well, not baby, he’s thirteen. I’d do anything for that brat and he knows it. It’s a lot, and dangerous, to get around my other blood relatives, and I miss him like a motherfucker— two birthdays he’s had where I couldn’t call him now, and it breaks my heart— but it’s because I decided I wasn’t gonna let anybody I care about get stepped all over or hurt because of their position. I don’t want kids growing up like I did. You acting like that, like you get stepped all over, and then letting me not even do the basics of feeding you properly while you’re saying shit like ‘it’s fine, I’m happy with the bare minimum’, it just makes me…”

She gestures vaguely trying to find the words. Nothing comes up, and she frowns at middle distance in annoyance at its lack of helping her. “Argh! It’s sad! You know what I mean.” Good enough! It’s not eloquent. She tugs Bei’s head over into a hug where she can rest her cheek against the top of their head, speaking in a grumble. “Just, look, you’re allowed to speak your piece to me and if anyone ever hurts you I’ll kill ‘em.”

Laurel lets that sit for a moment or two, still not letting Bei go. They can go back to eating in a second, she’s having a moment, by which she means she needs to recover from the earlier moment and act like nothing happened. There’s a sniffing sound. Man, she really hasn’t said any of that shit out loud to anyone but Ash back home…. That’s wild. “Don’t tell anybody I have feelings or I’ll smack you,” she mutters, completely not serious but still sounding a bit miffed at having said feelings, before she lets Bei go and steps back.

Inhale. Exhale. Hands go to her hips. Recovered! Back to being fun and pretty and not feeling weak things like sadness or embarrassment. “That’s enough of me being a sap. Not my best look. Alright. You like fish? I can cook the hell out of some salmon. How ‘bout eggs? Do those count as carnivorous food? They’re protein, yeah?” Back to chatter and back to the stove. She’ll cook until Bei’s full (and some for herself) or tells her to stop, it’s fine. She can do that! Regain her ‘being a good host’ title.

[megabadbunny]

Cosmic Love and Monsters (4/?)

"Now don’t you do that,” he says, suddenly stern and very south-London, pouting at Rose in mock admonishment. “Don’t you do that Very Bad Thing. You’ve got to listen to me, I’m the Doctor! I’m a poncy self-righteous twat with my head buried so far up my cobweb-filled arse it’s been centuries since it last saw the light of day!" (sfw version on ff.net; full tags and info on ao3) Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

***

Chapter Four: Fear Him

Cold pain awake hurt

Why

Doctor—

Rose wakes with a gasp, flinching at the ache that flares dully through her head. Icy water drips down her face in rivulets, and she wipes the great fat droplets out of her eyes, gingerly pushing herself up to a sitting position on the couch—

Wait. The couch…?

Confusion mounting with every passing moment, Rose scans the room around her, discerning what little she can in the darkness; it’s that castle-place, still, from the looks of it. Stone meets her eyes at every turn, drapes stretching gently from column-to-column, swaying lazily in the night air, and it’s quiet in here, oh-so-quiet. The softness beneath her legs must surely be plush cushions and yes, the thing behind her is definitely the back of a couch.

She’s in a fancy dress. In a castle. Recovering from a fainting-spell on a fainting-couch. The only way it would be cheesier, she thinks, is if she were chained to a set of train tracks instead.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” drawls a voice somewhere out of the darkness, and Rose jumps. “Sleep well?”

Rose glares at the Doctor—no, not the Doctor, the man from before, that terrible man, pretending to be the Doctor, but how did he have all of the Doctor’s memories, how did he know so much?—and he steps out of the shadows, holding a crystal goblet in one gloved hand. Water drips down the goblet’s sides, splatting loudly onto the floor and the man’s shoes, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His attention is focused solely on Rose. He watches her, his face blank, impassive, eyes blinking just a little too slowly in the dim light, like a lizard. Like a snake.

The Master, Rose remembers, and she shivers.

“Hullo? Master to Rose,” the Master says, waving a hand. “I asked you a question. Do you care to answer?”

“Not really,” Rose replies.

The Master chuckles. “Rude, but then you never were a morning person, were you?”

“How do you know that?”

“Oh, I’ve got my ways.” Dipping his gloved fingers into the goblet, the Master draws out a palmful of water and flicks it into Rose’s face. She forces herself not to flinch at the icy-cold deluge. “You’ll find that out soon enough.”

For a half-second, Rose considers making a run for it (or better yet, making a run at him), but she can just see the top of the sonic screwdriver sticking out of his jacket-pocket, and the memory of the pain it caused is still fresh, still raw. Unthinking, she almost raises her hand to the collar sitting heavy on her neck, until she catches the Master’s eyes, watching her patiently, almost gleefully. 

Do it, he seems to be saying. Do something stupid. I dare you.

Rose’s hand falls to her side and clenches stubbornly in her skirts instead.

“Who are you?” she asks sharply, shaking water out of her eyes. “Not your name,” she snaps before he has a chance to reply. “I already know that. I want to know who you really are, and why you’re really imprisoned here, and why you pretended to be the Doctor.”

The Master cocks his head to one side, inquisitive. “Well, aren’t you a curious little kitten?” he laughs.

“You’ve got two hearts, so you must be a Time Lord too, right?” asks Rose, almost speaking to herself, more than him. “But the Doctor said he was the only one left, after the War. How’d you survive?”

“Careful now, darling,” he replies. “You know what they say about cats and curiosity.”

“Enough bullshit. Cut to the chase.”

Tutting in disapproval, the Master shakes his head. “My my my,” he sighs. “What a nasty little mouth you’ve got on you. Surely you’d never say such a thing in front of your precious Doctor. You must know he doesn’t approve of such crude language.”

“We could always call him up and find out for sure.”

The Master barks out a laugh. “That isn’t possible for a variety of reasons, I’m afraid—numero uno being that your Doctor’s more than a little bit dead.”

Suddenly all the hurt in Rose’s body feels very far away. A vision of a gurney and a still hand floods her memory; she fights to keep her face calm and composed as panic surges in her chest, strangling her. A strange buzzing sound fills her ears like a nest of angry-buzzing wasps.

She is very, very cold.

Rose forces herself not to shiver. “I don’t believe you,” she says calmly.

The Master grins a Jack-o-Lantern’s smile. “You should.”

“No,” Rose replies with a sharp shake of her head. “If he was dead, you would said he didn’t approve. You said he doesn’t.”

“Well, I never!” says the Master gleefully. “Turns out you’ve got some cognitive capacity, after all! What a delightful surprise. Though to be fair, the truth was going to come up sooner or later, anyway. Only a matter of time.”

“So he is alive,” Rose says, relief washing over her.

The Master nods. “For the moment.”

Allowing her eyes to shutter closed, Rose takes just the briefest of moments to thank her lucky stars back home, all the ones that haven’t disappeared yet. “How do you know so much about him, anyway?” she asks. “How did you know who I was, back at the tournament? Just how much do you know?”

Humming thoughtfully, the Master considers for a moment, fingers tapping idly against the cup in his hands. “Nah,” he says, “I’m much more interested in talking about you, pet. Now tell me—” and here he plonks down on the couch next to Rose, ignoring how she shifts as far away from him as she can, “—just what will it take to get you to cooperate?”

“With what?”

“Well, with me, naturally.”

Rose eyes him warily. “Why? What do you want?”

“Just a smidge of your help.” The Master tilts his goblet this way and that, watching the motion of the water inside, as if it’s all terribly fascinating. “Well, that, and a decent cappuccino, but first things first.”

“I’m not helping you off this planet.”

“Nor could you,” the Master replies. “If I haven’t figured out a way off, then you certainly can’t, though it’s cute you thought that was a possibility. No; your assistance will be of a different nature,” he continues thoughtfully. “Something more along the lines of bait and switch, lure and hook, catch and release. Without the release.”

He shoots a sly smile her way. “Something to do with our mutual friend. Something a lot more personal, if you know what I mean.”

Rose shakes her head in confusion, running over his words in her mind. Then it dawns on her. 

“You want to use me,” she realizes aloud, “to get the Doctor here. To steal the TARDIS.” 

“Bingo!” shouts the Master in delight, clapping his hands together heedless of the water that sloshes from his cup. “Right in one.”

Rose stares at him. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Oh, I very much am not,” the Master says pleasantly. “I can’t get off this planet, but you know what can? A TARDIS. And guess who’s got one of those, along with buckets and buckets of horrendously boring and otherwise useless sentimentalism for a certain blonde and insignificant squalling little beastie?”

“No. No way.”

“Yes. Yes way,” says the Master. “And in another way, really, I suppose I should be thanking you right now. My other plan was to modify your little hopper, use that to get off this rock and track the Doctor down. But thanks to your Stone Age technology and your oh-so-elegant solution of stamping the thing to smithereens, now, we can jump straight to the end goal. No more wasting time looking for him—we’ll bring him straight to us!”

“I’m not gonna help you trap the Doctor,” Rose says loudly.

“Oh, come on. You barely know me—certainly not well enough to know all the reasons why you shouldn’t help me.” The Master pauses, thinking, as he wipes one damp glove on Rose’s skirt. “Granted, there are many, but there’s no reason for you to be so stubborn about it. So why don’t you just cooperate, like a good little girl?”

A harsh laugh. “How about you take this collar off me first?”

“How about you stop wasting my time?”

“Remove the collar or you get nothing.”

“Comply or I’ll kill you.”

“Good luck getting help from my corpse.”

The Master’s eyes flash and for a second Rose is so, so certain he’ll shift, fast as a blink, turning his sonic on her collar again or maybe even ripping it off so he can wrap his hands round her throat, fingers squeeze-squeeze-squeezing the life out of her, but instead he just grins.

That’s…unsettling.

“How about,” the Master muses, pretending to consider, “you give me what I want, or I kill all of your little friends? Hm? The ones you were helping out in the tournament. How about that?”

Rose doesn’t flinch. “They’re all gonna die in the tournament anyway.”

“Ooh, that’s cold!” laughs the Master. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but still. Cold.” 

He taps his chin thoughtfully with the goblet. “I could still kill you, you know. That option is very much still on the table. And what would your Doctor say about that?”

“He’d understand,” Rose replies firmly.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” says the Master, and if Rose didn’t know any better, she’d be tempted to label his tone soft. “But then again, maybe you’re right. So damned noble, the both of you. It’s such a nuisance, really.”

With a sigh, the Master sidles up next to Rose, as if they’re just two friends having a casual chat, mates gossiping about the latest celebrity news or office scandal. It’s a very strange contrast to the collar sitting heavy and cold on Rose’s skin.

“Don’t suppose there’s still any hope of convincing you I’m the Doctor?” the Master asks cheerfully.

“Don’t suppose there is. Didn’t work out the first time you tried.”

“And I tell you, it’s a damn shame, Rose. Just a real damn shame,” says the Master, shaking his head. “What a waste of a performance! I had so much more material. Here, look: Now don’t you do that,” he says, suddenly stern and very south-London, pouting at Rose in mock admonishment. “Don’t you do that Very Bad Thing. You’ve got to listen to me, I’m the Doctor! I’m a poncy self-righteous twat with my head buried so far up my cobweb-filled arse it’s been centuries since it last saw the light of day!”

He bumps Rose’s shoulder with his and the gesture is so reminiscent of the Doctor that Rose has to fight not to dry-heave. “Not too shabby, eh?”

“Positively Oscar-worthy,” Rose replies through gritted teeth.

“Thanks, I thought as much,” says the Master, beaming. “Now, back to my earlier question—because I won’t let up until I get the answer I want, see, so you might as well comply now, before I get bored with you. And as the people on this fair planet can attest, you won’t like me when I’m bored. So what’ll it be, love? Your life, or your Doctor?”

Rose doesn’t reply, just stares stonily ahead.

“Oh, Rose Tyler,” the Master says, heaving a disappointed sigh after several long moments tick by in silence. “Rose, Rose, Rose. A rose by any other name—”

“God, can we get on with the killing already?” Rose groans. “Cos honestly, I’d rather die than have yet another idiot feeding me that stupid—”

He aims the sonic at her collar and pain surges through her body with a nasty shock. Spasming backward, Rose’s head cracks against the wall behind her with a sickening thwack that echoes through the room while stars explode behind her eyelids. Copper-taste floods her mouth as blood wells up from where she bit the inside of her cheek. Her eyes start to water as the shock fades, before the pain sets back in, but it’s a short head start; the pain at the back of her head blossoms through quickly, and hard.

A sound of glass shattering on the tiles and suddenly a set of leatherclad fingers clenches her chin in a steely grip, wrenching her face sideways and forcing her to look the Master in the eyes. Despite herself, Rose gasps at the sudden closeness, the way the Master’s pupils dilate until his irises are nothing but a pool of lightless black.

“Surely by now, you’ve realized that behind this pretty face, I’m a monster,” the Master says, his voice chillingly pleasant for all that his smile is a thin-stretched grimace. “And monsters do bad, bad things to little girls.”

A chill runs down Rose’s spine and brings a violent shudder with it but Rose doesn’t reply and she doesn’t look away, just glares at him with all the hate she can muster, her mouth clenched tight against the swelling blood. You’re not the only monster in this room, she wants to say, but judging by the way he’s clenching the sonic, tightening until the leather squeaks against the casing, more and more as her silence stretches on—oh, leaving him hanging in the quiet is so much better.

“I can break you,” the Master breathes, chest heaving beneath the confines of his tailored suit. “I can break you, and I will, and it will be so, so very easy. And how do you think your beloved Doctor will react to that, hm? What do you think it will do to him, just how much will it tear him up inside, to see the bloody, mangled, twisted husk of a broken and empty thing that used to be the woman he loves?”

Rose spits in his face.

With a dark chuckle, the Master thumbs at the blood and spittle where it landed on the corner of his mouth, his tongue darting out to taste the traces left behind. “Iron-deficient,” he says. “You really should consider a daily supplement, sweetheart.”

He pushes off the couch and strides away into the shadows, crystal shards from his dropped goblet crunching beneath his heel. The click of a handle and splinter of light in the semi-darkness let Rose know that he has reached the door.

“Oh, don’t worry, darling; I shan’t be gone too long,” the Master says, pausing long enough to flash Rose a winning smile. “Wouldn’t want you to get lonely. Only be warned: the rest of our conversations might not be so pleasant. Next time you don’t give me what I want? Somebody dies, and they die nasty.”

“My condolences to your widow,” Rose shoots back.

Laughing gaily, as if Rose just told the most charming after-dinner joke, the Master leaves, the door clicking quietly shut behind him, locking afterward. Darkness and blessed silence filter back in, and Rose relaxes just the littlest bit, slumping back against the couch, wincing when her head touches the wall behind her. She doesn’t feel the telltale warmth of blood matting her hair, but she’s definitely bruised back there, probably going to swell, certainly going to hurt for the next few days.

Doesn’t matter. She’ll be fine; she’s had far worse. It won’t stop her from trying to escape. And it certainly won’t change her mind about protecting the Doctor. It doesn’t matter how badly she wants to see him, doesn’t matter how much the longing hurts even worse than the pain splitting the back of her skull. She will not do anything to compromise him. She’ll die first.

It’s what he’d do for her. He’d understand.

He will understand.

Willing her muscles to unwind, Rose lets out a long-trapped sigh, surrendering to the exhaustion that washes over her.

She sleeps.

***

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