#but there's always a chance of someone wiggling the door knob or knocking

[okordinaryish]

i have so much anxiety using public restrooms

[enidette]

ONE FOR ME

warnings :: reader gets injured, me tryna replicate eugene language

ron anderson x reader

being from rick’s group gave you many opportunities; to fight the dead for the families who can’t. it was decided that you would go with glenn when he had to attend runs. this had pros and cons for you. pros, you got to keep up your skills and go back to what you’d — ironically — consider more home than any of the mansion-sized houses in alexandria.

cons, you could die. get hurt. any negative possibility from before could still happen, so why did you agree to go on the runs in the first place? when there’s the safety of alexandria waiting for you? there’s one simple, stupid answer. ron anderson.

after being out there for so long, away from anyone your age other than carl, you had no idea how to deal with little teen crushes.

especially ones on boys with a girlfriend.

so you’d take your chances going back to the nostalgic smell of decaying flesh and the sounds of the dead gurgling on, probably, their own blood.

what made things worse was ron’s reciprocated attention and affection. it made you feel awkward. you didn’t know how to portray your feelings properly, how to respond to his advances. and then you remember enid, and your brain really short-circuits.

“hey,” you hear ron’s breathless voice behind you, turning around to see him jogging towards you. “another run?”

you shrug, “we need things.” he squints his eyes to look at you through the sun, shooting you a sad look. he takes your hand and pulls you away from the gate and your team. your hand feels like it’s on fire, you hate how this boy makes you feel.

“can’t you stay for once?” the look in his eyes and sincerity in his voice has your face heating up. you nibble your lip nervously before wiggling your hand out of his grasp. you try to not dwell on the dejected look on his face.

you give him a tight-lipped smile, “i don’t know much about relationships, but i don’t think you should be holding another girl’s hand.” he opens his mouth to protest when you start to walk away. “and i can’t stay, they need me!”

he watches you get in the car with glenn, heath, and nicholas, sighing and waving at you. causing you to look at him blankly before the car is disappearing down the road.

ron laughs at your behavior, turning around as eugene shuts the gate. he hears the metal clash before eugene’s voice calls out to him. “i can feel the thickening tension of teenage romance budding between the two of you.” ron tilts his head at him, brows furrowing at the random interjection. “it’s palpable.”

you didn’t expect that interaction with ron to throw you off so much, but you have to admit, it was nice having someone care for you. the group had always had their own cliques; maggie and glenn, rick with michonne, carl, and judith. sasha with tyrese, carol and daryl. you were stuck on the outside.

the closest to that you were beginning to have was noah, and he’s gone now.

and nearly, you were too. the run was going alright, you all had gone into a pharmacy and you were instructed to look in the back where the prescription medications were. while the others took on the convenience store items and over-the-counter meds. you were blazing through the labels, looking for what glenn instructed you to find.

“cillin, cillin,” you mumble to yourself, looking at the ends of the words on the bottles. you needed to find antibiotics, and your head was so clouded with teenage feelings and confusion that you didn’t hear growling behind you.

a hand reaches out and grabs your shoulder, causing you to whip around and grab your knife. you stab the walker through the eye, mouth agape. you look around to see you had knocked a shelf out of place in your frenzy. one that was holding a door with a broken knob shut. hiding a room full of walkers.

you back away with wide eyes, shoving a bunch of medication from the nearest shelf in your bag. you’re sure you could use it for something, maybe your possible death wouldn’t be a waste.

you trip over the decaying arm of the walker, watching as it slides across the floor. you land with a grunt, an odd sticky pop sound ringing in your ear accompanied by a newfound pain in your shoulder.

you’re unable to hold in a yelp at the pain, using your opposite arm to push you across the room. walkers start to crawl towards you, and you take the opportunity to stab whichever one you can reach. you accept your impending doom and tiredly try to take out the herd, but the more they stack on top you, the harder it is to reach.

gunshots fly through the air and everything becomes a disgusting blur. bodies of the dead falling to the ground before the pile of them on top of you are flung off and you’re being hauled over someone’s shoulder by your bad arm. you make a noise of pain you couldn’t hear before your vision goes black.

you blink your eyes, staring up at the white ceiling above you. you know you’re home, well, in alexandria. you turn your head and recognize the infirmary. that’s when the searing pain in your arm becomes obvious once more.

“i think it’s a severe muscle tear,” you hear denise say, sitting up with a small wince. glenn and ron are in the room, both of their attention’s on denise. “it’s really intense, sudden pain, it must have made her blood pressure levels drop. that’s why she fainted, but she’ll be fine with rest.”

ron laughs humorously, “i don’t think ‘rest’ is in her vocabulary.” your heart tugs at the sight of him, standing there, waiting for you to wake up.

“i guess you know me well.” ron and glenn turn around in surprise at the sound of your voice. you send them weak smiles as the three come to your side.

glenn gives you a soft smile, squeezing your hand, “i didn’t know what happened, i wanted to stay here until you woke up.” you give him a thankful nod, watching as he tells denise something about maggie before retreating to the door.

denise stands awkwardly by your side before patting your shoulder. you grimace at the pain shooting through you, “sorry- i just… i’ll just go look at the books again.” she stammers before going back to her studying corner.

you and ron share a look before laughing, “poor thing.” you mumble, fiddling with your fingers. it hurt to move your bad arm at all.

ron’s hand comes up to yours, intertwining your fingers. you go to repeat what you said earlier when he cuts you off, “for the record,” he smiles, kissing your knuckles. “you’re the only one for me.”

[ragingbookdragon]

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 5

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST. AND MORE TO COME! Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @iwillstaywiththemforever @justine-en @weirdgirlfromtx @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy @edlothia-baby @soul-end @willieoo @willowoo @peterxwade24 @the-atlantic-french-fry @bad-bouquet-of-emotions @vvipgot7be @pure-princess-97 @atomicsoulhumanspy

Author's Note: I have nothing to say for any of the emotions y'all are about to get from this. Enjoy!-Thorne

She wasn’t sure what she expected when she sat down, but the stretching silence growing between her and her estranged family wasn’t it. She tried to look anywhere but them, not because she was ashamed—far from it. But it was more than awkward sitting across from three brothers and a father she’d not spoken to in three years, let alone tell them she was even alive.

Her eyes found Wally’s as he sat down beside her eldest brother and if looks could’ve killed, he’d been dead and buried.

“Glare at me all you want, but I’m not going to apologize,” he shrugged.

Scowling, she turned her attention to the skyline. “Fuck you,” she spat, crossing her arms.

“At least talk to them, (Y/N).”

“And why should I, Wally?” she questioned, glaring at him. “I don’t have anything to say. If I did, I wouldn’t be here in Central.”

“You’re not leaving until you talk to them,” he finalized with a firm look and she growled low in her throat and resigned herself to her fate.

Her eyes darted to her father’s and she couldn’t for the life of her decipher what was in them. “I’ll talk for an hour,” she told him. “I’m not talking about what I’ve been doing in Central City, so don’t ask. I’m not talking about the life I’ve been living, so don’t ask. You’re only allowed to ask me about my departure and that’s it. But after one hour is up, I’m leaving.”

“Who said you get to leave,” Wally questioned, and she shot him the darkest glower she could muster.

“So help me God, Wally West you’ll either take me home or you’ll fix that fucking elevator and I’ll walk myself home. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the world who every vigilante is at this table.”

For once she managed to stump him because his eyes went wide—so did her family’s but she didn’t care—and he finally nodded.

“Alright. One hour.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she turned back to her family, more specifically her father. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Maybe for you to come home, (Y/N),” Jason answered, and she glanced to him.

“Not a chance. Next?”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to be hostile. We’re not going to force you here,” Dick said, and she looked at him now, eyes narrowing.

“The manipulation tactic isn’t going to work on me, Dick. I’m not here for to be tricked into coming back. I’m never coming back.” She cocked her leg over the side of the table and reclined, biting out, “Give me your anger. I’d prefer that instead of whatever this pitiful bullshit you’ve got going on.”

In the eighteen years they’d known their sister they’d never heard her say such a callous thing, but her words had practically slapped Dick across the face because hurt etched onto his expression, then immediately turned into anger.

“You want my anger? Fine.” He stood and pointed at her. “What the hell is wrong with you! Why would just up and disappear like you did! Do you have any idea how scared we were for you! How distraught!”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Knowing how you like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders because you can’t help but be a hero? Probably a lot.” She made a dramatic show of looking at her watch. “You’ve got forty minutes. Keep it up.”

Her eyes shifted to Bruce’s. “Did you let them read the letter? Or did you just throw it away after you read it?”

Dick, Jason, and Tim all turned to Bruce at that.

“Letter?” Tim repeated. “What letter?”

(Y/N)’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape and then she smiled knowingly. “Oh, you never showed them the letter, did you?” She looked to her brothers. “I wrote dad a letter the night I left to explain why I was leaving. It’s sugarcoated bullshit but it is the truth.”

Dick’s face contorted in anger. “(Y/N) left a reason behind and you didn’t tell us about it? Three years and not a single word?”

Bruce merely stared at her as he pulled the letter out of his coat pocket. “I was going to burn it when I found her again. Talk to her before anyone else could.”

Jason snatched the letter from his hands. It had faded a bit, softened around the hard edges, like someone had opened it and read it every day for three years.

His eyes scanned the paper, and he met her gaze, voice chock-full of hurt and she had to fight tooth and nail to keep herself from externally reacting. “You left because you thought we didn’t care about you?”

Dick reached over and took the letter. With furrowed brows and a frown, he started to read aloud, and Bruce gazed at (Y/N) as the memory came back to him.

***

Mornings at the manor were unusually quiet in comparison with the evenings. Everyone was typically too tired to argue so it accounted for a peaceful breakfast of soft words and chewing. Everyone had an assigned seat and every child had learned early on not to take the seat that belonged to another brother or their sister because there would be a fight about it.

Dick and Jason sat next to each other and (Y/N) took the seat at the end of that side; Tim and Damian took the other side—oldest to youngest, just the neat and even way Bruce liked it.

It was rare for any of the boys to be awake before him or Alfred and (Y/N) was usually the first kid to the table, the boys wandering in just minutes after her. Oddly enough, that morning she hadn’t come down for breakfast—which she always came to.

Bruce looked at Alfred. “Is (Y/N) coming down?”

Alfred hummed and gently maneuvered Tim’s arm to the side to he could set down the plate. “When I went to her door, it was locked, and I received no conversation from inside.”

Jason snorted and sipped his coffee. “Probably had a long night with her friends and is still out. I know I would be.”

“How would you know?” Tim interrupted. “You died before you got to the eleventh grade.”

“You’re one to talk, dropout,” Dick countered, and Damian sighed.

“Richard, you dropped out of college. The only son of Batman who has actually completed an entire bout of schooling is me.”

The three boys turned on him with scowls and retorted, “No one asked you, pipsqueak.” Damian glared back at them.

Bruce rolled his eyes, using the side of his fork to cut into his omelet. “Let’s try not to start a free-for-all here in the breakfast room, please.” He glanced at Alfred. “She’s probably tired from all the ceremonies. Let her sleep.”

Alfred nodded. “Of course, Master Bruce. She should be well rested this evening.”

But when the evening came, Alfred still hadn’t been able to get (Y/N) to unlock her bedroom nor speak to him. He certainly wasn’t worried, but it was off for her to be so reclusive. When Bruce and the boys came back from patrol, he mentioned it to him.

“Miss (Y/N) hasn’t come out from her bedroom, Master Bruce. Nor has she said a single word all day.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed and he tugged the cowl off, rising from the seat at the Batcomputer. “I’ll go check on her,” he replied. “You deal with…” his steel eyes drifted to Dick who had Tim in a headlock and Jason who was giving Damian a noogie. “Them,” he finalized, leaving the poor butler behind.

He knocked on the door to her room and pressed his ear to it. ���(Y/N)? You haven’t come out all day. Is everything alright?”

Nothing. Not even a breath.

“(Y/N), are you in there?” he asked again and when he didn’t receive a confirmation, he raised his arm, running his fingers along the doorframe until he touched a small metal piece. He pulled it down and stuck it in the door, wiggling the knob for a second before it clicked, and he opened the door.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been trying to—” Bruce went silent when he saw the kempt room. Bed neatly made, everything organized and put away. Even her clothes hamper was empty.

He blinked and walked into the room, quickly heading to the bathroom to check for her there. It was empty as well, and just as clean, leaving him stunned as he exited the bath.

Wandering over to her desk, he saw an elegant envelope sitting on top of her laptop, his name written in beautiful penmanship. He picked it up and unfolded it, pulling out the multi-page letter. He drew his eyes along the golden lines, reading her words.

Dad,

I don’t really know how to start this letter. Truth be told I’ve written at least six before this one, and even then, I’m not entirely happy with it. But if you’re reading this, I’m not here anymore. I haven’t hurt myself in anyway, you don’t need to worry about Vicki Vale or Jack Ryder reporting the discovery of my body. I mean it in a literal sense—I’m not in Gotham anymore. Neither am I ever coming back.

Don’t think this is your fault. You’re a good father, the best I could’ve been given, and my brothers are good siblings. But the truth is that I’m not fit for this family of heroes. And I never have been. My best when trying to be what all of you are, was never good enough and I’ve spent eighteen years staring at your backs, waiting for you all to realize that I’m still here, that I still matter even if I’m not like you. And I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my own home any longer.

I don’t want you to look for me. I know you will, but I wish you wouldn’t. This isn’t some spur of the moment thing I decided to do the night after graduation. If you look at my bank records, I’ve been withdrawing cash from my savings since freshman year—this is four years of planning, so please understand that I’m doing this because I don’t want to be found—ever.

I’ll leave the story for the media up for you, though I doubt that they’ll care long enough to make a deal of it. It’ll pass like winter does spring and they’ll move on to the next bigger story.

Thank you for everything dad, and good luck with Gotham—keep it safe like you always have. And I hope that one day when you think of me, you won’t feel disappointment. I’ve only ever tried to be something that when you looked down on me, you’d only be proud, and I hope one day I’ll achieve what I always dreamed about. Eighteen is young to be on your own and I’m scared. But I’ll be okay—I always have been.

So do me a favor and don’t spend too much time over this. There are plenty more younger kids that need a parent’s hand on their backs to steady them like you once did for me. Find one and fill my spot. Let them shine brighter than I ever could. Let them be the one worthy to be a Wayne—I know I never was.

-(Y/N)

Bruce barely had time to grasp the back of her chair to keep himself from falling to his knees in shock. The letter was clenched in his hand and his lungs wouldn’t take in air like he wanted them to, his heart aching with each palpitation. He looked around the room to her dresser drawers, willing the strength into his legs to moved over to it. He opened every drawer and to his astonishment, they were empty. Hurrying to the bathroom, he noticed the drawers in there were empty as well. She was really gone. And he had no idea what to do.

***

Tears were in Dick’s eyes when he finished the letter and he looked up at her. “How could you ever think we didn’t care about you, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to sit there and explain every time she asked her brothers if they wanted to do something with her and they conveniently had something else to do. Didn’t want to explain every school and extracurricular performance that went unattended and left a little girl standing in front of a crowd barely managing to stave off the tears as she bowed and thanked them for coming. She didn’t want to remember all the memories that chipped away at her heart with every disappointment that occurred. All she wanted to do was leave.

(Y/N) had earlier returned to her original position, hands in her lap and she clenched her fists until her nails bit into the skin of her palms, eyes directed anywhere but Dick’s.

“I think it’s time we call this little reunion done,” she said, standing to her feet. “We’re not going to get anywhere.”

“Not if you run again,” Jason muttered, unconsciously wiping a tear from his eye.

She pointed at him, hissing, “I didn’t run the first time, Jason. I left. On my own accord.”

“You ran instead of coming to us, (Y/N),” Tim said, and she threw her hands above her head in disbelief.

“What the fuck did you want me to do! Wander down into the cave and beg at your feet for someone to pay attention to me! To at least pretend like I was a sister! I did! Every day!”

(Y/N) picked up her purse and yanked it up her arm. “Cassandra seems to be fitting in better than I did. So go and dote on her as the younger sibling. I’m not interested in the position anymore.”

“It’s not a competition,” Dick explained. “We love you just as much as we love Cass.”

She paused and gazed at him, voice laced with disappointment as she disagreed, “Then you should make sure she’s content in the manor, because if you love her with any semblance of how you loved me? It’s not at all.”

Her eyes shifted to Wally’s. “Fix the elevator. Now.”

He stayed seated for a moment, the two of them staring each other down, then he nodded wordlessly and moved to the elevator, starting it again. Her family stayed seated, and she gave them one final look before she followed Wally, silently waiting for the doors to open.

When they did, she stepped inside and turned around, hitting the button. Just before the doors closed, Wally stopped them and murmured, “You’re making a mistake.”

“My worst mistake was becoming friends with you.” (Y/N) blinked at him, then reached up and shoved his hand away from the door and as it closed, she remarked coldly, “And you can go to hell for all I care.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Born to Run

Warnings: dark elements including noncon and rape, fingering, kidnapping, guns, and other explicit content.

This is dark!Frank Castle and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are forced onto the road when an unwanted passenger gets in your backseat.

Note: So I’m gonna tag @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ because I promised them I’d write Frank and I finally got to it and it was loads of fun!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You sighed as you rolled to a stop behind the yellow taxi. You craned your neck to try to see around the lines of cars, another deadlock in New York traffic. You couldn’t be surprised as you idled in one spot and leaned your hand on the wheel as you checked the time. 

You heard a siren, saw lights flashing ahead, and heard shouts. Again, not unusual for the city.

You rubbed your forehead as the sun beat down through your window and the humidity built as it leaked in through your open window. You tried not to use the AC too much as it made your old Chrysler overheat in the annual New York heatwave. You shifted in your seat and pulled against the belt as you tried once more to peer past the crowded vehicles.

You heard heavy footsteps, several sets echoing from all directions. A figure appeared on the other side of your car and the back door was ripped open. The man ducked as he slammed the door behind him and laid across the seat. He rolled down onto the floor, a sudden invasion that shocked you.

“What the fuck--get out of my car!” you snarled.

“Honey, you’re gonna wanna keep it down,” he said as his large body barely fit in the crevice between the seats.

“What--”

He poked a gun up towards you and waved it, “eyes forward,” he said, “hands on the wheel, and turn the music up.”

“I don’t have any money--”

“I don’t want your money now shut up,” he hissed, “now you keep it up and I’ll blow a hole through your seat… pity you’re on the other side.”

Your adrenaline spiked and the pounding in your temples deafened you. You turned the knob of the radio to drown out the pulsing and the man’s ragged breaths. Several others appeared, several dressed as officers and few in civilian clothing. You grasped the wheel and made yourself stare at the license plate ahead of you.

The search party dispersed as they called out to each other and the cab slowly crawled forward. The man squinted up through the window as the cars around you began to move as well.

“Drive,” he said.

“What do you want?” you asked shakily as you pressed lightly on the gas.

“To do what I tell you,” he barked and wiggled uncomfortably on the floor, “you keep driving until you’re out of the city and then maybe we’ll talk.”

“It’s rush hour, that could take ages,” you huffed.

“So take ages,” he growled, “you don’t stop ‘til I tell you, got it?”

You nodded and cleared your throat, “uh huh,” you looked in your rearview as a gunshot rang, “exit?”

“Whatever gets you out of New York now shut up and drive.”

You did as he said. You made your way at a snail’s pace until traffic began to thin out and you turned away from your usual route.

“Tell me what street you’re on when you turn,” he ordered, “don’t fuck around with me.”

You looked at the sign and read it aloud. You followed a silver Civic to the next and again recited the name on the dented sign. You checked the clock again. Your meeting would have already started, that was probably why your bag wouldn’t stop vibrating.

“Give me your phone,” he said. You reached over blindly and grabbed your purse. You dropped it to him and he quickly unzipped it, “roll the window down,” again, you obeyed as you recalled the sight of the gun.

He pulled apart your phone and you glanced back over your shoulder. He had the back of and the battery in his hand. “Hey--”

“Keep your eyes on the road,” he flung the battery out the window and bent the phone in half. He tossed it too and righted his gun to aim over the console, “go on.”

“You can take the car, please… people will look for me,” you pleaded.

“Not for a while,” he laid back and gripped the gun, “now someone sees you arguing with your windshield and they gonna get curious so shut up and enjoy the… is that music?”

You changed the station with a flick of your finger, you barely registered the smoky tones of Springsteen as you focused on steering and reading out the street names. Your veins burned as our blood pumped wildly from your racing heart and the man’s scent tickled your nostrils; he smelled of blood and sweat. You hoped he didn’t add your own to the stains on his jeans.

💀

It was dark as your car dinged. You swore and looked ahead for a sign. You shook your head and blew out a long breath.

“I need gas,” you said to the phantom in the back seat.

He grunted as he pushed himself up from the floor and sat up, “gotta be a station close.”

“And if there isn’t?”

“Then we get out and push,” he scoffed, “stop worrying about ‘if’ and find us a station.”

You rolled your eyes. The man was annoying, even if he was terrifying. You scratched your nose and sat forward with a yawn. “I’d know if you hadn’t destroyed my phone.”

“See, right up there,” he ignored your gripe, “yellow sign just ahead.”

“Christ,” you huffed and blinked at the black road.

“I’m sure you had some real important business,” he grumbled, “but I’m sure the coffee can make itself.”

“Excuse me? Fuck off, I’m not some--”

“You’re gonna miss your turn,” he warned and you flipped your signal on.

You pulled into the station and he scooped up your purse. You shut the car off and unbuckled your belt. You twisted in your seat to watch him search your purse. He pulled out your wallet and counted the bills inside.

“Right, we fill up then we’re back to it,” he opened the door and stepped out.

He uncapped your tank and pulled a hose from the meter. He slid it into the slot and kept a hand lazily on the handle. You slowly opened your door and got out. You looked at him over the top of the car as he scowled at you, it was the first good look you got at him.

His dark hair was shaved on the side but he had about and inch or two up top, his nose was crooked, and his dark eyes were set beneath a forehead that betrayed a frequent grimace. You looked at the lights of the station then back at him.

“I gotta… go pee,” you said.

“You wait,” he said, “I’ll go with you.”

“What?”

“You think I’m stupid?” He released the level and tapped the nozzle as he pulled it out, “hold your horses, I’m comin’.”

He put the hose back in and stomped over to you. You saw the gun tucked into his belt and he pulled his jacket over it. He snatched the keys from you and grabbed your arm and marched you to the blazing door of the station.

“You have one minute before I come in and drag you out, pants down or not,” he tore open the door and shoved you through.

You curled your lip as he took a few sticks of jerky from a display and approached the counter. As you got to the sign over the restroom, you looked back as he stared at you. He raised a thick brow and tapped his wrist as if he wore a watch; he did not.

You went into the bathroom and locked the heavy door behind you. You looked around the grimy room and shuddered at the stained toilet bowl. You stepped up on the seat and looked out the small window above. It might be big enough if you suck in.

You stepped on the pipe beside the handle and pushed on the pain. It was just as gross as the rest of the room. The pane finally popped out and you hauled yourself over the high ledge. The glass didn’t quite open wide enough so you had to bend as you wiggled through. You had a high chance of landing on your head but you really didn’t want to chance worse with that man.

You kicked as you were lodged halfway through the window and a knock came at the door, “better pull your pants up,” your abductor called through the door.

You struggled to force yourself through as you tried to angle your hips past the frame. The door burst open with a frightening kick and you flailed your legs as you tried to hit the man blindly and keep him away. He caught your ankles and pulled you back. You cried out and grabbed the window frame so that you didn’t crash down into the toilet.

“Hey, let me go,” you tried to kick him again and he batted away your foot.

“You do that again and you won’t have a safe landing,” he tugged again and you nearly lost your grip on the ledge, “now come on.”

“You got my wallet, my keys, everything, so why don’t you just leave me--”

“Don’t make me count,” he sounded like a father.

“Count? Oh, come on, what am I gonna do? Just let me go.”

“Three,” he swung you just a little, “two,” he gripped your legs firmly, “O--”

“Okay!” you shouted, “okay, just-- let me down.”

Cautiously he bent and put your feet on the floor. He stood and you pushed yourself straight. He grabbed your arm and spun you to face him. He bent and rammed his shoulder into your stomach as he scooped you up. You yiped and pounded on his back as he turned and carried you out of the restroom.

As he strutted down the aisle, the clerk stared at you in confusion. The man reached the door and paused, “on her rag, she gets a bit pissy.” He left the store with a chime and carried you across the lot, “you want the trunk or are you gonna be good?”

You pulled on the back of his jacket and gritted your teeth, “would you put me down?”

“I won’t ask again so either you choose or I do,” he said as he neared the car.

“Alright, alright,” you snarled as he popped the trunk, “I’ll be good just don’t-- not in there.”

He harrumphed and walked around to close the trunk. He brought you up to the passenger side and dropped you on your feet. Dizzy, you grabbed onto the car and he ripped the door open, narrowly missing you with it.

“In,” he pointed to the seat.

You glared at him and stepped under his arm. You sat and he closed the door with a snap. He rounded the hood and the car dipped as he sat in the driver’s seat. He fumbled with keys and shoved them in the slot. He turned the ignition and shifted in the seat.

He took a stick of jerky from his pocket and peeled the plastic. He took a bite as he put the car in drive. He pulled out with one hand on the wheel and chewed noisily and he siphoned through the radio station with his greasy finger. You buckled your seatbelt out of habit and crossed your arms. 

“Get some shut-eye,” he gristled, “you’ll be drivin’ once the sun comes up.”

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” you groaned.

“Dunno, far,” he answered bluntly, “no talk, just sleep.”

“I’m not a dog,” you muttered.

“Keep actin’ like one and I’ll get you a leash,” he snorted.

“I really don’t get why you don’t just take the car--”

“As useless as I’d agree you are, you’ve seen my face and the longer I keep you from running back and snitching, the better chance I got,” he adjusted the seat as he chewed the last of the salted meat, “but there is another option?”

“There is?” you asked.

“Yeah, I could kill you,” he chuckled.

You swallowed and exhaled as you leaned your head back heavily. You peeked over at him as he focused on the road and as much as you wanted to leap from the moving car, you knew that would be just as fatal. So you huddled down and closed your eyes.

“Would you turn that down?” you nodded at the radio.

“You askin’ me to turn down a classic?” he turned the knob and Robert Plant’s voice whined from the speakers, “a nice little lullaby for you.”

You closed your eyes and turned in the seat so that you faced the door, the belt strained against you awkwardly but you didn’t care. You crossed your legs and tried to drown out the music. Even without the racket, you wouldn’t sleep easy.

💀

You woke after hours of uncomfortable sleep in the car seat. The car was still as you yawned and groaned as your stiff muscles rebelled. You sat up as you heard the sound of water hitting the dirt. The man was just outside with his back to you, pissing on the side of the road.

You looked to the ignition but the keys weren’t there. He finished up and zipped up noisily. He opened the door and bent to look at you. He kept his hand on the door as his eyes met yours.

“Get out, stretch your legs, you gotta piss, there’s a bush,” he jabbed his other thumb behind him.

“Really?”

“Or you can keep holding it,” he shrugged and closed the door. He walked around the front of the car and pushed an arm over his head to stretch his shoulder. You took a breath as your irritation bubbled and reached for the door handle.

You got out and held in a grunt. You walked around the back of the car and glanced around. The bush was small and poor cover. Even so, you really had to go as you spent your only opportunity trying to sneak out of the station. You looked at him and neared the leafy bunch. He blinked at you and turned his back.

“I hear any funny business,” he said over his shoulder, “you can piss your pants instead.”

You shoved your pants down and squatted. You let out a steady stream and almost sighed as the pressure left your pelvis. When you finished, you waited until you were relatively dry and pulled your pants back up.

“All done,” you said as you went back to the car. He shook his head and pointed you to his side.

“You drive, sign says there’s a motel about an hour down the road,” he opened the driver’s door.

You got in and he snapped the door shut before he went to the other side. He settled in the seat and slid the keys into the ignition, turning it until the engine rumbled. He leaned back and pushed his fingers back against his palm.

“Right, let’s go.”

You sniffed and pulled back onto the empty highway. You’d never been down that one before, an old country road with sparse exits. He pushed on his jaw until his neck snapped and you winced. You hated the noise.

“So, what do I call you then?” you asked.

He was silent and you felt him watching you, “like you care.”

“I don’t but looks like I’m stuck with you, so…”

“Mmm,” he pulled out some more jerky, “Frank.”

You nodded and stared at the endless road ahead. He said your name before you could.

“Saw it in your wallet,” he explained.

You drove in silence from there until he flipped the radio on. He chose a country station and you silently cursed his taste. You followed the signs and he pointed you to the old motel as you approached it. You thought of hitting the gas but that would do nothing but piss him off and probably get you hurt. Worse, you’d be stuck in the car with him for who knew how long.

You steered into the lot and he yanked the keys out of the ignition before you could. You mirrored him as he got out but he stomped over to your side. He leaned in as he lowered his voice.

“You can play along,” he pushed his jacket open and showed the butt of his gun, “or there’s still room in the trunk.”

“Fine,” you muttered.

“I mean it, you try anything,” he rested his hand on the gun, “you really wanna get someone else hurt?”

You nodded and chewed your lip, “I get it, okay?”

He pulled his jacket closed again and took your elbow, ushering you up to the front of the motel. You wriggled away as you reached the door and entered ahead of him. He drew you back as he followed you through the door and cleared his throat. The woman at the front desk looked up over her glasses and set aside the novel with a shirtless man on the cover.

“Good afternoon,” she sang as she swiveled in her chair, “how can I help you two today?”

“We need a room,” Frank said as he pulled out a wad of money.

“Deposit’s three-hundred, sir,” the woman replied, “can I get a name?”

“Ben Tacker,” he lied smoothly as he counted out the money.

“Alright, and a piece of ID?” she asked.

“Funny thing,” he peeled a fifty free and held it over the desk to her, “I lost it.”

She stared at him and slowly took the bill. She shoved it in her pocket and counted the rest out. She handed him a paper to sign and he scribbled without caring. She handed him the key and he thanked her in the same gruff voice.

“You two have fun,” she called after him as he swung open the door and waved you out.

He chuckled and shook his head, “sure will,” he said before the door shut again.

He looked at the number on the tag and led you to the door with the same. He unlocked it and waited for you to enter. The lock clicked as he trailed you and brushed past you as he went to the closet. You watched in confusion as he pulled out a stack of extra bedding and shared shredding the tinged top sheet.

He took one of the strips as he neared you. You backed up against the door and he wrenched you away as he pulled the single chair up behind you. He sat you down and held your wrist against the narrow arm of the chair. As he began to wind the strip around your wrist, you twisted and he squeezed so hard your fingers went numb.

“Can’t trust ya but I gotta get some sleep,” he growled as he finished tying your first hand. He went back and took another strip of linen, he repeated the process on your other arm and both your legs.

“And what if I have to pee?” you pulled against the bounds but only added to your discomfort.

“Hold it,” he shrugged and took the remote. He flipped on the television and pushed the control into your hand, “there. I don’t wanna hear another word.”

“You’re not serious? You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“I coulda left you in the trunk,” he turned and walked around the foot of the bed, he plopped down with a sigh, “you should be thanking me?”

He untied his boots and kicked them off. He pulled off his jacket and tossed it over the far side of the bed. He set the gun on the table beside the lamp and stretched his arms behind his head. As he laid back, he shifted awkwardly and dug in his pocket, he tossed your credit card up onto the table with a flick.

“Now, don’t go pullin’ shit or we won’t get that deposit back,” he groaned as he wiggled to get comfortable, “not my money so I don’t really care either way.”

“You… asshole,” you huffed and he smirked.

“I think an asshole woulda just taken the car,” he said, “and left you with a hole in your head.”

You clamped your lips together and shook your head. You hit a button and searched through the channels. You didn’t really care what you watched, you wouldn’t be able to pay attention anyway. You stopped at an old episode of NewsRadio and let the remote rest on the end of the arm.

The laugh track filled the interminable silence and after some time, low snores rose from the bed. You peeked over at Frank, his arm slung over his face as his chest rose and fell steadily. He might be irritating but you had enough sense to be afraid of him. If you had to guess, he was ex-military and judging by your inopportune meeting, he was also a wanted man.

You fidgeted as much as you could in the chair and turned back to the screen. It was as if the recorded guffaws were at your expense. You slumped as the cotton chafed around your wrists and yawned. Your back was still stiff from your nap in the car and the chair was little better with its thin pleather cushioning and short back.

💀

You didn’t remember falling asleep, not until you woke up in terrible pain. Your head hung over as you were nearly folded over your lap entirely, your bound arms holding you just above. You groaned as you pushed yourself up and it sent a pang up your neck. You heard the rattle of pipes and looked over at the empty bed.

You let out a strained breath and moved your head side to side, just slightly as the pain lingered and throbbed with each pivot. You balled your hands in fists and tried to twist your arms against the linen. You flexed your legs too, wiggling your feet as you tried to loosen the ties.

The chair began to rock as you fought against your restraints. The remote fell to the floor and the television kept blaring. As you were sure you just needed a little more, the chair tipped and you bounced off the side of the bed as it crashed down onto its side. The impact had your head spinning and shower faucet squeaked off.

You kept moving your arms and legs, desperate to free yourself before he could discover you. There was no hiding your intent anymore. The bathroom door opened and your heart swelled. Shit. You hissed as you heard his footsteps and looked up as his shadow loomed over you.

Frank stood in nothing but a towel, his thickly muscles torso still damp as he glared down at you. You cringed and tried not to see more than you wanted.

“I gotta take a leak,” you lied, well, not exactly untrue.

“Uh huh,” he hummed doubtfully and grabbed the chair. 

He hauled you back up and planted the chair back in place. He shook his head at you and retreated. He pulled one of the white robes from the hook on the wall and pulled it over the towel. He tied the belt tightly and dropped the other layer before he disappeared back into the bathroom.

When he emerged again, you watched him dully, “I really do have to go,” you said.

He ignored you and checked his gun. He slid open the drawer and set it inside.

“Well,” he came around the bed, “I got some bad news for you, There’s no window in there,” he grabbed the strip around your left wrist and unknotted it, “so, I’ll give you two minutes.”

He untied you and watched as you rubbed your wrists. You stood with a wince as your legs ached but he didn’t back up. You sidled past him and he turned to keep his dark eyes on you as you approached the bathroom. You swung the door shut and nearly collapsed on the other side.

The bathroom smelled of the gardenia scented soap that came with the room and there was still moisture in the air. You relieved yourself quickly and stood to gaze into the mirror. You looked awful, you felt awful. You splashed your face with cold water and leaned heavily on the porcelain. 

Whether you listened to that man or not, you were fairly certain the result would be the same. You could see it now, the black barrel of the gun, his finger on the trigger. You shuddered and shook out your hands as if to get rid of your nerves. You stood straight and groaned as you stretched out the knots in your limbs and back.

You went back into the hotel room as you rubbed your neck, the needling pain still buried at the base of your skull.

“Tell you what,” he said as he sat on the bed and aimed the remote at the screen, “I can tie you up again or you can make both our lives easier and just lay down.”

“Is there a third option?” you winced as another jolt went through your spine.

He snickered and pointed to the pillows, “we’re leavin’ early,” he said, “so you can sleep now or sleep in the car.”

You gave no response as you went around the other side of the bed. You eased yourself down against the pillow and let out an unwitting groan. It felt good to lay down. You turned onto your side, your face away from him, and he finally stopped switching stations.

You closed your eyes and hugged yourself as his weight rested at the bottom of the bed. It wasn’t hard to drift off as the pain chased you into unconsciousness and the stress of the last day shrouded your mind. You only hoped he wasn’t waiting for you in your dreams.

💀

The night's stay was taken out of the deposit and you were back on the road to nowhere. The man gave you gruff directions as he closed his eyes in the passenger seat. At night, you switched and you grew complacent as the endless travel wore on your wits. You didn't know why he wouldn't just let you go. He could take the car and the last of your money and just leave you alone. Likely the separation would be preferable to both parties. 

Another motel after a week of driving and you were thankful to be standing still. You were asleep on your feet as you dragged your feet behind your grumpy captor and as you leaned on the front desk and bid farewell to even more of your cash, you barely processed the conversation happening around you.

Frank's arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you close. You flinched and sneered at him. You felt so gross, you didn’t want to be touched, let alone by him. The desk clerk handed him a key and chuckled.

“It’s been a long trip,” Frank said, “think we just need some R and R.”

You blinked at him stupidly as he turned you around and swept you out the door. Outside, you shoved him away and stumbled as he laughed at your pathetic effort.

“What the fuck was that about?” you scowled.

“Well, you looked like you were about to keel over, just tryna keep you on your feet,” he jingled the keys and led you up to the second level.

“Don’t do that again,” you mumbled as you waited for him to unlock the door.

“Sure, honey,” he said mockingly as he slid the key out and kicked the door open, “come on.”

Just like last time, he locked the door and you looked around at the small room, a single queen and another rickety chair. 

“Please, don’t,” you said as you crossed the room, “I’ll stay, just don’t tie me up. I need to lay down.”

“You need to wash the road off ya,” he quipped as he peeked into the bathroom, “ladies first.”

You stared at him and tilted your head. He might have kept you alive so far but you could hardly trust him. After all, you weren’t exactly there by choice. You tiptoed forward, warily eyeing him as you got closer. He stepped back and crossed his arms.

“You might not be able to smell ya but I can,” he nodded through the door, “ten minutes.”

You stepped inside and he snapped the door shut behind you. You sat on the toilet and rubbed your eyes. You looked down at your clothes, rumpled and stained with sweat and filth. You took a moment and stood to strip off the layers one at a time. 

You cranked on the shower and stepped under the stream. The shower curtain rang as you pulled it around the tub and you basked in the hot water. It felt good and your muscles relaxed as rivulets trailed down your skin. You scrubbed with the vague floral scented soap and scrubbed until you felt a little more like yourself.

Reluctantly, you turned the faucet off and reached for the towel on the bar. You lowered your foot onto the tile and patted yourself as you stared at your blurred silhouette in the steamy mirror. A knock sounded at the door and had you wrapping yourself in the white cotton.

“Ay, they got some machines here,” his voice scratched, “should probably wash those rags up while we’re here.”

You tucked the towel in at the top and gathered up your clothes. You neared the door hesitantly and cracked it open. You peeked out at him as he watched you impatiently.

“Figure you can’t run naked… well, if you try, it won’t be so easy,” he remarked. You shoved your clothes through wordlessly, “there’s some robes out here when you’re done with your sauna, princess.”

You rolled your eyes and shut the door. You heard him chuckle and move around the room as he grumbled under his breath. You waited for the other door to open and close before you emerged. 

You took the robe folded over the bottom of the bed and tied the belt tight around your waist. You sat on the bed, your back to the frame and switched on the television. You thought of running but he was right, even if you eluded him, you doubted there were many who wouldn’t do worse to a barely clothed woman, not out there in the middle of nowhere.

He returned shortly and dropped a haul of processed foods on the bed from the vending machines. He wore a robe as well but it was smaller on him and the flimsy white slippers provided with the room. He shuffled through his trove of salt and sugar. 

He took the two cups and placed them on the small round table and filled the kettle from the bathroom sink. He plugged it in and flipped the switch. “Hope you like chicken noodle,” he said.

You read the guide on the TV and punched in the channel playing re-runs of Law and Order. It was a grim choice but you just needed to disassociate from the dingy motel. The kettle clicked and his shadow flickered in your peripheral. Frank sat and the mattress dipped beside you. He held out a steaming cup with a plastic spoon sticking out of it.

“Thanks,” you took it and leaned back as you stirred the boiling soup.

“We’ll grab some burgers at the next stop,” he grizzled, “Fuckin’ starvin’.”

You said nothing and stared at the lawyers arguing on screen with the detectives. They were trying to figure out how a woman ended up in a motel with marks around her neck; dead. A chill went through you and you slowly glanced over at the man beside you.

He squinted and returned your gaze. His mouth slanted and he shook his head, “really?” he challenged nonchalantly.

You took a deep breath and turned back to the screen. You sipped at the hot broth and scooped up noodles as you tried not to think about being strangled to death on the bathroom floor. 

When you finished, you set the empty cup aside and slid under the covers as the afterglow of the shower weighed down your limbs. You just wanted to sleep. If he did decide to kill you then, you wouldn’t even know the difference.

He grabbed a candy bar from the mess and sat back, jarring the whole bed as he did. You rolled onto your side and pulled a pillow over your head. You squeezed your eyelids shut and tuned out the old tube television and the chewing of the man behind you. Sleep crept up on you in haze, half-aware of the muffled voices and the movement on the other side of the bed.

You pushed the pillow away as it grew warm beneath and sleepily pulled it under your head. You heard the distant noise of the pipes. Groggy, you sank back into a shallow sleep as the constant noise lulled you.

You were disturbed again when you were jostled and the television shut off. You felt him behind you and wiggled closer to the edge. He barely seemed bothered as he stretched out and you felt the heat radiating from his body. You drifted off once more, dreaming about the eternal highway and Frank’s bristly orders.

You snorted awake, this time from a haze so deep it felt as if you’d been drowning. You felt the arm over the middle, heavy and firm, and the hot breath on your neck. Your lashes fluttered, threatening to close again, but your adrenaline forced your eyes open. 

He was flush to your back, his hard body against your back as his hand was slid into the opening of your robe. His rough fingertips rested against your soft torso, just beneath your breast.

“Frank,” you rasped and tugged on his wrist, “the fuck are you doing?”

He groaned and shushed you as he nestled closer. You went rigid as you felt a prod against your ass. You grabbed him more firmly but could not move his hand as he squeezed you tighter. His hand glided up against your resistance and he cupped your chest. You gasped and pulled at his long fingers.

“Frank, get your fuckin’ hands off of me--”

He ignored you and rolled his thumb over your nipple. Your breath caught in your throat and tried to push yourself up. He held you down as he snaked his other arm beneath your.

“Honey, just relax,” he said drowsily, “I ain’t hurtin’ ya.”

“Get off!” you slapped the back of his hand.

“Mmmm,” he purred and nuzzled the back of your head, “you smell like flowers.”

“Frank--”

“What else are we gonna do, honey?” he asked and his breath tickled your ear, “hmmm.”

He nibbled at your lobe and a chill went through you. You pressed your hands to his and knew he could feel the frantic beating of your heart. You shivered as his arousal poked against you again. You gulped and gasped as suddenly rolled onto his back and pulled you up onto him.

Your robe fell loose as you laid atop him, your back to his hard torso as his other hand roved lower. You squirmed and grasped at his wrists. He easily ignored you as he kneaded your tit and his other hand slid along your vee. You held your breath and pushed your legs together.

“That’s your problem, you just need to let go,” he hummed and brushed his fingertips down the line of your leg, “come on and open up for me.”

You shook your head against his shoulder and he pinched your thigh. You yelped and he did it again. You hit his hand and he laughed, a deep rumble that flowed through you. He dug his nails into your flesh as he continued to fondle your chest with his other hand. 

You whimpered as he threatened to break the skin and let your legs fall open around his. He slid his fingers between your folds and over your clit. You gasped and he swirled his fingertips, sending a bolt of electricity through you. You gripped his thick wrist and gritted your teeth as you tried to resist the fire in your core.

“What d’ya think you’re still around for, huh?” he slithered as he poked around your cunt, pressing his fingers to your entrance.

You murmured a weak protest as your eyes rolled up and you stared at the wall above the bed. You huffed between your teeth as he shoved two fingers inside you. You clenched around them and your nerves rippled with the wave of pleasure.

His palm rubbed against your clit as he rocked his hand slowly and you shook your head, fighting the unwelcome thrumming as it pulsed deep within you.

His fingers slipped easily in and out of you as you slickened and reached back unthinkingly to curl your fingers into his sides. He moved his hand faster, the friction building to a spark. You closed your eyes as your nails pressed against his muscles and your legs bent around his.

You spasmed as you came, your surrender declared with a pathetic squeak. He didn’t stop until you were panting uncontrollably, your head lolling on his shoulder as you bit the tip of your tongue. When he pulled his fingers out, you whined at the sudden emptiness.

He rubbed his wet fingers along your cunt and spread your lips as he snaked his other hand beneath your leg. He tore open the tails of his robe and angled his tip against your opening. He urged you onto him, sliding you down his body until your back arched to accept him. You moaned as he entered you and the overwhelming fullness fueled your helpless voice.

“Hmm, honey,” her purred as his hot breath touched your scalp, “just what you needed, isn’t it?”

You sputtered as he moved his hips beneath you, rocking into you from below as he planted his feet in the mattress. He lifted you carefully and kept an arm around your middle as his other toyed with your sensitive bud. His thick breaths clouded around you as he moved your body in time with his.

He hooked his arm around around your left leg and pulled it higher, doing the same with your right as he fucked you harder. He reached from below to keep his thumb on your clit, your legs folded against your chest. He growled in your ear and bit the lobe again. You clawed at the blanket below him as he used you so easily, your shame smothered by your pleasure.

You orgasmed again and as your walls clenched around him, he groaned and his legs slipped down straight. He turned onto his side and quickly rolled you onto your stomach as he forced your legs down. He pinned you beneath him, weaving his arm through yours as he pulled them back as his twined his fingers behind your head.

He kept you pinned beneath him as his flesh clapped against yours loudly. You moans seeped into the pillow and his animalistic grunts punctuated each thrust. The bed shook beneath your bodies and he pushed his thigh up around yours. He sat up, still bucking his hips as he pulled your arms back and forced you to arch with him.

He gripped your elbows as he hammered into you. Your moans turned to whines as he pounded your walls and you gulped down air desperately. He growled and you felt his body tense as his hold on you broke. He shoved your head down against the pillow, almost suffocating you as he once more sped up.

He snarled and his motion grew spasmodic. He slowed and his hips jolted into you in jagged thrust. He emptied himself into you as his long fingers stretched over your scalp. Finally, he stopped, still straddling you as he heaved a shaky sigh. He sniffed and trembled as he ran his hand down your back.

“Really makes me happy I didn’t put a bullet in ya,” he rasped, “real…” he squeezed your hips and pushed in as deep as he could go, “happy.”

[lobakmerahs]

Tiny Titans

Summary: A day with Levi and his twins who don’t know when to stop eating. 

Levi walked calmly into the mess hall that morning with his twins walking by his sides, their small hands grabbing Levi’s 2 fingers on each hands and thomping their baby steps on the floor. The twins were now able to walk and run on their own but still needed you and Levi’s guards on them because they tended to run or walk carelessly which ended up having them bumping on people or stumbling upon their legs which caused them to kiss the earth sometimes. Another reason was that they were never full, never wanted to stop eating so both you and Levi had to make sure they didn’t steal other people’s food or force people to share their food with them.

You had to leave the twins under Levi’s care as you and Hange had a mission at the other part of the wall a few days ago where you were supposed to arrive at the headquarter today. Levi sat at the table and put the twins on the table before Mikasa came and placed the food tray on the table which consisted of a bowl of porridge for the babies and Levi’s simple breakfast, as he asked for her help earlier to take the said porridge. Then, she moved to the other table where all Levi’s squad took their seats. Not long after that, Erwin arrived at the mess hall to have his breakfast while sharing the table with Levi and his twins.

Levi carefully brought the spoon to his twins' mouth, alternately feeding his son and daughter until the last drop of the porridge before feeding them with milk from their baby bottles. He took the chance to eat his breakfast as the twins were drinking their milk while sitting on the table, short chubby legs hanging from it. Then, his son approached Levi, one hand was holding the bottle while his other hand tried to reach Levi’s bread. Levi quickly moved his hand away, and looked at his son intensely as a sign of warning, not that his son gave any care about that sharp look anyway. Meanwhile, his daughter was crawling to Erwin’s direction, eyes glued to the Commander's bread as well. Erwin, who always had a soft spot for the twins, voluntarily gave his bread to the little girl.

“Erwin, don’t. She just had her porridge and milk. She's not hungry at all.” Levi immediately stopped Erwin and his daughter as if she understood Levi’s words, instantly dropped her bum on the table and lowered her head showing how sad she was for not being able to get the desired bread. Erwin chuckled as he saw Levi’s daughter reaction and tore the bread but failed to make it into equal halves. The bread was now into one small portion and another one was slightly bigger, Erwin brought his hand that held the small bread to the little girl, she looked up at Erwin with her cute smile but then she pointed at the other hand, demanding to have the bigger part which Erwin complied without any hesitation. Levi shook his head slowly followed by a sigh, then he tore a big chunk of his bread to give it to his son as the little boy started to get jealous with his sister who successfully got her bread from the Commander of the Scout Regiment. Now, the twins ate their second breakfast happily while sitting on the table and Levi could finally had his breakfast peacefully, or at least that was what he thought.

After a few moments, Levi was sipping his tea when his son was climbing down from the table to the bench and slowly getting his feet on the floor of the mess hall which was followed suit by his twin sister. Levi quickly grabbed the twins and brought them to his chest, not wanting them to go anywhere much to their dismay. His son started to grabbed and pulled Levi’s hair and his daughter started to stretched her body just to break way from her father’s strong grip. Erwin watched in amusement while smiling warmly.

“Levi, why don’t you let them go? I don’t think they would get lost in this mess hall, it’s not even that big anyway.” Erwin tried to persuade Levi to let the poor children ran freely.

“It’s not about them getting lost, I just don’t want them to steal people’s food or anything.”

“They ate a lot already just now didn’t they? Maybe they just wanted to walk to your squad.” Levi sighed upon Erwin’s words but gave in nevertheless. He carefully let his kids stood on the floor and warned them to behave before they walked off happily and Levi could continue drinking his unfinished tea. The twins quickly went to the table where Levi’s squad sat and was greeted by Armin. Armin carried the little girl to sit next to him as she was stretching her arms at his direction, wanting her to be lifted. Her twin brother went to Jean and tapped the man’s hips with his small palms, demanding him to carry his little body probably too lazy to climb the bench by himself. The twins then climbed on top of the table and crawled towards Sasha, who was no doubt had the biggest food portion among the soldiers at that table. Levi's twins had their eyes followed every movement of her hands, when Sasha opened her mouth, Levi's daughter opened her mouth as well as if she had food coming into her direction and moving her empty mouth in a munching action while Levi's son had his hand tried to reach Sasha's spoon but failed. Their continuous attempts to steal food made Sasha reluctantly gave up and shared some of her soup that morning with Levi's naughty twins perhaps because she couldn't handle those cute pair of eyes that stared at her or maybe because they were her Captain's children.

After the twins started to get bored, they climbed down to the floor and walked from one table to the next, greeting people or to be precise taxing people for their food. Then, the twins stumbled upon a middle aged man who was the head of the kitchen. He was carrying a box packed with bananas when he kindly greeted the twin. Noticing the twins’ stare that was directed to the bananas, he took two bananas and gave one to each of them. The twins held the banana with one hand then they showed their empty hands towards the kind man as a signal to want another one.

At the same time, Levi let his eyes wandered at the mess hall, trying to find his little twin. That was when he saw the two little creatures trying to demand more bananas at the man who was incharge for the kitchen. He stood up and walked towards their direction with eyebrows twitched with annoyance, but was a little too late because the twins saw their father and were smart enough to know that their father won't let them had those bananas. So, they quickly shoved the bananas under their clothes and slowly took a few steps back before they ran away from their father using their tiny plumpy legs. They were spurting while hands were glued to their clothes not wanting their precious fruit to fall off. Their chubby cheeks and shiny black hair were bouncing as they were running while giggling. All of a sudden, the mess hall was filled with the cackles from the twin and everyone watched with amusement as Levi chased his twins around the mess hall.

As the twins were running away, Levi's daughter suddenly stumbled upon her own legs, fell on the ground and had her banana rolled out from her cloth. She quickly got up and picked up her precious banana, and her brother who was ahead of her, turned around and took her hand to help her get on her feet again. Noticing their father who was getting close, they quickly crawled under the table and hid there, hoping that their father won't be able to catch them.

Levi didn't know whether it was the Ackermann blood that was running inside his kids or the fact that babies who took something that they shouldn't-were just able run really fast. He had his eyes followed his twins until they decided to hide under the table which made him stopped running as he approached the table. Slowly, Levi lowered his body then kneeled before he showed his face under table which caused the twins to shriek with laughter and quickly ran away. This time, they didn't run between tables, but instead they went under one table to another not caring whether the tables had people sitting around them or not.

After some time of running, the twins’ fatigues started to kick into their tiny bodies. So, they rested under the table where Mike sat with Nanaba and the other soldiers in his squad. Mike signalled at Levi whose eyes were wandering around. Levi nodded and quickly caught the tired twins into his arms and brought them to the head of the kitchen so that they could return the bananas.

"Come on, brats. Give back those bananas, you had enough breakfast today, you know," Levi asked while looking at his kids who had their lips curled down, showing such a sad expression to be separated from the bananas.

"Bana bana...," his daughter softly said but still reluctantly handed out her banana to the head of kitchen. At the same time her brother was hugging the banana close to his chest, pretending not to hear a words from his father.

"It's okay, Captain. They can keep it, I really wanted to give them those bananas." The man said.

"Really? Don’t just give them whatever they want because they’re my children."

"No, Captain. It's fine, really. I do want them to have it." He convinced the father of the twins. Levi was not someone who would push and pull so he decided to let go of the case but he did plan to return the favour.

"Alright then. Brats, what do you need to say?," he tapped his kids' thighs while looking at them.

" -ankyouu ~", the twins said in unison with sweet smiles which melted the head of kitchen's heart causing him to eagerly responded with a warm "you're most welcome little ones".

~🍌

You gave the door two knocks before you twisted the knob and opened it. It was Levi's office door and it was the first place you went to as you arrived at the headquarters. As you opened the door, your eyes were greeted by your twin who were wiggling their plumpy little bodies while holding a banana in one of their hands.

"Mommmmy!," your son and daughter yelled your name as they saw you entered the room while showing the bananas in their hands. You hugged both of them followed by some kisses on their heads. Being separated from them for a few days had made you missed them so much. The same goes to the man that you were walking towards to, whose eyes were staring deeply at you while waiting for you to arrive in front of him.

Levi stood up as you were slowly getting close to him to embrace you tightly to his warm body. As he was hugging you closed his eyes, inhaling your scent as he was relieved to have you safe and sound in his arms. 

"How are you?," you whispered to him while still being hugged.

"Never been better." Levi answered which caused you to smile and buried your face deeper into his muscular chest. After some time of hugging, Levi sat back on his chair while bringing you to sit on his lap.

"Did you buy those bananas?," you asked since you had been curious about it but chose to greet all of them first before you asked anything.

"Nope. Those belonged to the kitchen but the head of the kitchen gave them. I actually saw them asking for more but they saw me coming to get them so they quickly ran away." And so Levi told you how the kids were just never get full. They finished off their porridge and milk yet asked for Erwin's bread and forced Sasha to share her meal and used their cute faces to get free bananas from the head of the kitchen.

"They are such a tiny titans, aren't they?," you sighed while smiling after hearing Levi's story and rested your head at Levi's chest. His chest vibrated with his deep chuckles upon hearing your words.

"Hmm. Our tiny titans." He admitted, his arms held you tighter and pressing your body on him even closer. Levi looked down to watch your face who was smiling, he gladly return the smile with a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose. 

Then, your daughter walked towards you with her twin brother by her side, handing you her banana for you to feed her. You took the yellow fruit and peeled its skin, then you purposely brought the peeled banana closer to your mouth, acting like you wanted to eat your daughter's fruit.

"NOooo! Mommmy! That's mineeee," your daughter screamed dramatically at you while she stood on her toes and had her hands tried to grab back her banana from you. You laughed at her reaction and proceeded to feed her.

"Didddyy....", your son softly called his father and handed his banana also expecting his father to feed him. Levi obliged at his son's request and calmly fed his always-hungry little boy.

"Is it nice?," he asked his son. The little boy nodded his head instantly while his round cheeks became rounder due to being filled with the fruit while his mouth was busy munching it.

"Yuummmmy~," he finally spoke, licked his lips and opened his small mouth again as a signal for Levi to feed him some more of his banana. Levi chuckled as he watched his son getting so ecstatic just from eating his stolen fruit. 

As the time passed by, you and Levi spent afternoon to feed your children bananas while they turned around, hands flapping and wiggled their waists and chanting "bana bana" probably feeling so happy for being able to eat bananas with their parents. You comfortably sat on Levi's lap while having one of his hands lingered around your waist at the same time he fed your son. And no, you didn't even get a bite of the banana, your children won't let you because it's their bana bana not yours.

[kpop---scenarios]

Into The Night

Pairing: Kai x Reader

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 5k

Summary: You never expected to fall for the escort your friend ordered for you.

"It's a very reputable place." Jisoo smiles at you. "Very discreet. I think it would be a good place for you to go." She finishes. 

You stare at her with your mouth wide open as you try to comprehend what she had just said to you. 

"Bitch." You scoff. "Are you trying to tell me to go to a whore house to get laid?" You ask. 

"I mean, you're not the first person to do it. It's not a big deal." She says, shrugging her shoulders. "The guys are hot." She smirks, wiggling her eyebrows. 

You can't help but think about it for a minute. You really did need a good fuck, your vibrator can only do so much. "Fine." You say, crossing your arms. "But your ass is coming with me." You smirk, watching her face drop at what you had just said. 

"But.. I.. " she stutters. 

"No excuses, I fuck a sex worker, you fuck a sex worker. That's the deal." You laugh. You knew she would never do something like that, meaning you'd be off the hook. 

"Fine." She says. "Lets go. Now." She says, ushering you towards the door. "Now or never." 

"How about never?" You nervously giggle. 

"Or now works too. Let's go bitch." She finishes, dragging you out the front door of your apartment to a cafe down the street, to get the process started. 

Little did you know this was going to be the best, but also worst experience of your life. 

** 

Kai smiles as he says goodbye to his latest client, leaving her to relish in the orgasms he had given her, making her scream out his name. He knew he was good at what he did, that's all he was ever told he was good at, so why not make a career out of it. 

Women had always told him he was a great fuck, he had a handsome face but that would only take him so far. The words they told him always stuck with him, replaying over and over in his head. 

"You're a great fuck but thats it." 

"I could never date you. You're not good enough for me." 

It was always the same, with every woman that he met. They were always only interested in him because of his face, or his body. They never cared to get to know him or his likes and dislikes, only how many times could they cum because of him. 

Eventually he said fuck it and gave up on trying to pursue a relationship with women. He began working for an escort company, where he quickly climbed the ladder, becoming the most popular male escort. He made great money, but lived a lonely life despite being with different women. It wasn't the sex that was important to him, it was the connection, the love two people shared. That's what he craved, but he knew he wasn't enough. 

Kai's mind wanders back to just after he graduated from high-school. He had a date with a girl he had loved for the last four years and had tried time and time again to muster up the courage to ask her on a date.

"J-jennie, would you like to have dinner with me?" He asks, his fingers twiddling between each other. 

She smiled at him, but it wasn't genuine, more pitty. 

"Um sure." She half smiles. "I'll meet you at the restaurant." She says, walking away to her friends. Kai thought his heart was going to explode out from his chest. 

He was so happy. 

He wasn't your typical guy, he was shy. He was very quiet and often gave off the vibe of being an asshole, but in all honesty, you just needed to get to know him first but no one ever gave him that chance. 

His date with Jennie went well, the conversation lagged a few times but it had ended with him railing her in the back of his car. 

His muscles flex, the sweat glistening as he props himself up while he thrusts in and out of her, making her scream. 

It was the best night of his life and he thought about her everyday, until he saw her making out with some guy at a party a few days later. All eyes had been on him when he walked into the party, his arrival commencing the whispering between people and the staring.  

"W-what? I thought.. we.." he stutters, lost for words. 

She laughed. And laughed. "Look." She giggles. "You give top notch dick, but you're an asshole. You're not boyfriend material." She spits. 

Kai hangs his head low as he walks out of the party, heartbroken for the first time but not the last. 

He didn't let that one instance ruin his views on relationships and women, no, that came after the same thing happened in college. He had met Mina and she was so beautiful, smart and interesting. He was smitten with her, and when she agreed to go on a date with him, he was over the moon excited. 

"Would you like to get a coffee with me?" He whispers to her, only looking her in the eye once. 

"Sure. Sounds great." She smiles. 

He told himself he wouldn't sleep with her on the first date. Coffee seems innocent enough, but alas, it ended with him ramming into her from behind in an alleyway behind the coffee shop. 

"I had a great time." She smiles, as she adjusts her skirt. "See ya." She finishes, walking away, leaving him standing there slightly confused. 

Kai saw her often, mostly in the middle of the night when she called him and asked him to come fuck her. Whenever he asked to walk her to class or meet up for dinner, she was always busy or unavailable. And if they ever did meet up at her apartment during the day, she always had an excuse as to why he couldn't stay. 

"That was great." She sighs, rolling over onto her back. Kai rolls over, wrapping his arm around her waist, only laying there for a second before she wiggles out-of his embrace and stands at the edge of the bed. 

"What?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"I've got a lot to do. You gotta go." She says, getting dressed and rushing him out of her apartment. 

He wanders around downtown for a bit, trying to think of why she kicked him out so quickly, why she never wants to spend time with him. He's lost in his thoughts until he sees Mina, just down the street walking with her friend. 

With a smile on his face he walks up to her to greet her. 

"Hey you." He smiles. 

She doesn't smile back. Instead, she scoffs, her friend giving him a weird, uncomfortable look. 

"Um." Mina starts, but Kai gets the point. 

"Gotcha." He mumbles, turning around to walk away and that's when he hears her. 

"Who is that?" Her friend asks, laughing. 

"The most amazing dick I've ever had." Mina raves. "But like that's all he's good for." She laughs. "He's so awkward. Could you imagine keeping that as your boyfriend? Talk about being embarrassed all the time." Mina laughs. "And he's studying accounting. How lame. He'd make better money fucking women for a living." She finishes. 

A tear rolls down Kai's cheek as he now vows to himself to never try for a relationship again. Women wanted some good, dominating cock? Then that's what he would give them, that's all that he would give them. 

** 

"Make sure he has brown hair." Jisoo laughs. The two of you sit in a cafe, on your phones choosing an escort for each other. You picked one for her, someone who seemed to fit her type just right, a man named Baekhyun. 

You were nervous about who she chose for you, but you trusted her, mostly. You knew she wouldn't screw you over. 

"Okay done. Meet him in an hour at the Into The Night hotel." She laughs. 

"Seriously? Fuck." You laugh nervously. 

Forty five minutes later you're standing outside the hotel, taking a deep breath. You're the one who needs to get the hotel room and he will knock on the door. You know, this is fine, its simple, its just a fuck. With a stranger. It's fine. 

"A room with a king size bed." You whisper to the front desk clerk who looks at you weirdly as you sweat slightly. 

"Room 5372. Here's your key. Enjoy your stay.. with no bags." He says. 

"Someone will be coming to ask for my room number. Make sure you tell him." You say, clearing your throat. 

"Of course." He says, looking back to his computer. 

**

You sit on the edge of the bed, your fingers twiddling as you wait for the much anticipated knock on the door. And when it came, your heart jumped from your chest. 

Your palms were sweaty as you gripped the door knob, taking a few very deep breaths before you pulled the door open revealing an extremely handsome man. His hair was messy and dark, his shirt unbuttoned just enough for you to see his chest, the muscles in his arms protruding from his long sleeve shirt. 

You go back and sit on the bed, watching him walk in, the bulge in his pants very noticeable. Your breath hitches as your eyes stare at it, unable to look away from it. 

"Hi." He says, his voice deep and rugged. "I'm Kai." He smiles. 

"Um hi, I'm.. um.. Ayn." You stutter. 

"Ayn." He says, a smirk on his face. "How would you like me, Ayn?" He asks. 

"What's your last name?" You ask, your nerves have now fully taken over. "Mines YLN." 

"Kim." He says, cocking his head to the side. 

"Nice, nice. Are you hungry? I'm starving. I'm going to order room service." You say, jolting yourself up and heading to the phone. 

"Wait you're serious?" He asks. 

"Very. I never joke about food." You say. 

"Uh. A burger?" He says, slightly confused about what was currently happening. But he hadn't had dinner and was kind of hungry, so why not?

"Hi, i'd like two cheeseburgers with fries and two cokes." You accidently yell into the phone. "Sorry." You whisper, hanging up. "Like twenty minutes you tell him, slowly walking back towards the bed. 

He nods his head. 

"So.. good times?" You ask, referring to the name of the hotel, a small smile on your face. 

"Yeah, I mean, it's meant for good times, so why not. I thought it was clever when I named it." He smiles. 

"You named it? Do you own the company?" You ask, genuinely shocked. 

"I do." Kai laughs. "I founded Knight Industries a few years ago and built it up." He says, beginning to unbutton his shirt. 

"Umm." You say nervously, thinking of how else you could stall. Honestly, you wanted to see what was under his shirt but you knew where it was going to lead you weren't sure about the stranger thing. 

Knock 

Knock 

"Room service." A voice chimes from outside your door. 

"I better.. get that." You half smile, quickly walking to the door. You open it and a cart is pushed into your room. The man looks confused when he sees Kai standing there, both of you fully clothed. 

"Uh, enjoy." He says, walking out but not before giving Kai a questioning look. 

**

Over the next hour you and Kai talk about one thing, well you talk about one thing and that thing is food. You went on and on while Kai actually sat there and smiled at you as you described to him your favorite dish to make at home. 

"It's so easy to make but tastes amazing. You have to taste it to believe it." You laugh. 

You also talked about what your dream vacation would be. 

"And that's why my absolute dream vacation would be a good tour of Europe. You would get everything." You groan, just thinking about the food made you want to drool everywhere." 

"You can't forget the wine though." Kai laughs. 

"No never, can never forget that." You smile. 

Beep

Beep. 

Your phone alarm beeps, telling you your two hours is up. You give Kai a smile before gathering your belongings. 

"Thanks for this. I had a great time." You smile before leaving the room, leaving him there to respond to no one. 

"Thank you." He whispers.

Kai tries to make sense of what just happened over the last two hours he had spent with you. When he talked you actually listened, you genuinely seemed interested in what he was saying and enjoyed talking to him. Something he had never had, no one ever wanted him, just his cock. 

**

"Wow." Jisoo says, a tired smile plastered on her face, her hair a mess as she limps towards you outside the hotel. "You don't look like you just got fucked." She pouts. 

"But you do." You respond. "I didn't. We talked. And it was really nice." You say, shyly. 

"It wasn't a date Ayn. You were supposed to get laid!" She yells, a little too loudly. 

"Next time. I will. Promise." You say. 

"You're going to have a next time?" She asks, surprised. 

"Would that be weird to request him again?" You ask. 

Before she could answer a very handsome man ran out of the hotel, yelling her name. 

"Jisoo! You forgot this." He smiles at her, his hair disheveled. He slyly hands her a pair of panties, giving her a wink before running back into the hotel. 

"That's Baekhyun." She breathes. "I think I love him." She finishes. The two of you laugh before linking arms and walking back to your apartment, completely missing the man you'd spent time with watching you walk away from him. 

That night you laid in your bed, staring at the request on your phone to meet up with him again. You wanted to see him again, whether you did anything or just talked but did he want to see you was the question. 

You left it alone for the next week, thinking and debating about it everyday. You had the request filled out, but for whatever reason you couldn't bring yourself to press send. 

You felt stupid. You probably weren't even his type, this is what he did for a living, of course he was nice to you, you paid for it. However, he was supposed to fuck you, not spend two hours eating and talking with you. 

After a week you finally pressed that send button, and you confirmed your meeting for tomorrow, making sure to add to meet at a park at sunset. You wondered if he would actually show up. 

**

The next night you sat on the park bench, your bag with a surprise beside you, as you waited for him to show up. The littlest part of you felt like he wasn't going to show up. So when I looked over and saw him walking towards you, your heart skipped a beat. 

He sat down next to you, a smile on his face as he looked at you. "Hi." He says. 

"Hi." You reply, your nerves coming back. 

"We never got around to your favorite food last time." You say, waiting for him to begin talking. 

"Fried chicken." He laughs. "My mom used to make it when I was little, and it's just kind of stuck now." He says, his hands placed on his lap. "She got the recipe when she was in America for a bit." 

"Have you traveled much?" You ask. 

He looked at you like you were crazy when you asked him that, but you really and truly wanted to know more about him. 

"Japan a few times, China and America once, but that was years ago. I've always wanted to go back." He tells you. "Have you been anywhere?" He asks. 

"No I've never traveled anywhere. I've always wanted to though." You smile. 

"I think you'd like Japan. Amazing food." He laughs. 

"Anywhere that has good food has my vote." You smile. "Speaking of food, I brought this for you." You say, pulling out the container of food you made for him. "I really wanted you to try it." You laugh. 

"I-.. wow." He says, looking shocked. Your eyes meet as he remains speechless at your kind gesture. 

Before you knew what was happening, Kai had leaned over and pressed his plump lips to yours, wrapping his hand around the back of your head to deepen the kiss. 

When he pulls away you smile, standing up, your face covered in blush. "We'll have to meet up again so I can refill the container." You smile, walking away, hoping he uses the number you left on the top of the lid. 

** 

3 days. It took him 3 days to text you. After the second day you had completely given up hope on him messaging you, but that was typical of your fashion, never giving enough time to anyone. 

You had woken up early in the morning for work and saw a text from a number you didn't recognize, thanking you for the food and how delicious it was. 

You texted all day after that, about everything. He asked you on a date for that weekend, 8pm on Saturday. You told him you'd love too, and when Saturday rolled around you were terrified. 

Your doorbell rang right at 8pm, and your heart fluttered as you walked towards the door, your heel clicking on the floor. You glanced at yourself in the mirror one more time, satisfied enough with how your makeup and hair turned out, you smoothed down your tight dress before answering the door. 

"Hi." Kai smiles, looking you up and down. "You look amazing." 

"Thank you." You whisper, looking at him in his suit, his hair slicked back. He looked so good. You almost said fuck it and dragged him into your apartment, but you have a little self control, for now. 

On the drive to the restaurant you couldn't keep your eyes off him. The way he slouched in his seat, his legs spread with one hand on the steering wheel, the other one placed on your thigh. You could feel your pussy throbbing as you pressed your legs together, trying to keep yourself together. 

"Are you okay?" He asks, his eyebrow raised, glancing over to you.  

"Yep, all good." You say. 

You knew he didn't buy it. His cologne, how his skin glowed under the moonlight, his plump lips, it was all getting to you and fast. 

** 

At the restaurant you sat across from him, throwing back your third glass of wine as Kai watched you in  amusement. "Are you sure you're okay?" He asks, his chin resting on his hands. 

"Mhmm." You say, gaining a little bit of confidence. You raise your leg under the table, gently caressing his leg with your foot, up and down a few times before you slide off your shoe and work your way up to his thigh. 

Your eyes locked as you moved your foot, you could see his face change, his eyes become darker. 

Every Time you rubbed his leg, you could feel your lips sliding together, reminding you of just how wet you truly were. 

"I'm so wet." You whisper, sticking your hand under the table, sliding it over your pussy before popping it in your mouth to suck off your juice. 

Kai's eyes went black. Right before he could say anything, the waiter came, placing your food in front of the both of you. 

"Anything else I can get for you?" He asks, Kai looks at you, you bite your lip, looking slightly needy. 

"Yeah, can we get this to go please." Kai says, his eyes never leaving yours. A smile spreads across your face as the waiter looks confused but takes your plates away anyways. 

A few minutes later he returns with your food and your bill. Kai pays quickly before placing his hand on the small of your back to guide you out. 

"Are you sure?" He asks, sliding into the driver's seat, starting the car. 

"I want you to fuck me." You moan. Kai groans as he races down the street. "Now." You whisper. 

He turns down an alley, parking in the dark between two buildings, making sure you were out of camera view. 

"Out." He growls. 

You open the door, step outside and walk to the front of the car. You watch as Kai walks around to the front of the car, unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops. His hand rests on your cheek as he leans in, pressing his lips to yours. He backs you up, leaning you against the car and laying you down on the hood of the car. 

He breaks the kiss and stands up. "Hands." He demands. 

You give him your hands, he puts them together and wraps his belt around them tightly. "Put them above your head."  He demands. You do as you're told, your pussy dripping as you wait for what he plans to do next. 

He brings his hand up to your neck, dragging his finger down your collarbone, past your breasts, down your stomach, stopping halfway down your thighs at the hem of your dress. 

"Spread your legs." He says, his voice deep and demanding. You do your best to spread your legs, causing your dress to ride up, exposing your red lace panties. 

Kai lifts your dress more, looking at your panties and smirking. He grabs onto them, moving them to the side, giving him a great view of your lips. 

"Oh my god." You cry, your pussy needing to be touched. 

"Quiet baby girl." He moans as he leans his body on yours. His one hand reaches in-between your thighs, moving between your lips before his thumb grazes over your throbbing clit while he inserts two fingers inside you, slowly. His body rests on yours as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, his other hand covering your mouth to muffle the sound of your moans. 

Kai whispers in your ear as you mumble your muffled cries. "That's a good girl."

As he continues to pump his fingers into you, he moves his thumb in a circle on your clit, making your arch your back. You try to cry out, but his hand catches most of the whimpers as he removes his fingers from inside you, and focuses just on rubbing your clit. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you try to squeeze your legs together, your orgasm threatening to burst. 

"Cum." He growls, sending you right over the edge, your body shaking as you ride through your high. 

Kai removes his hand from your mouth while staring at you before licking his fingers with a smirk on his face. You slide down the car onto your knees, lifting up your hands so he can untie you. 

You're a bit shaky as you pull down his pants and boxers, letting his cock spring free. 

Your mouth waters as you stare at the thick, juicy, veiny cock standing straight in front of you. You wrap your hand around the shaft, pumping it a few times before Kai grabs the back of your head, forcing his cock into your mouth, making you choke. 

"Mhmm." He moans. "Choke on that cock." 

He lets you come up for air, just for a second before he shoves his cock back in your mouth and down your throat. Your eyes water as he thrusts in and out a few times before fully pulling out and standing you up. He pushes you down on your stomach against the hood of the car, making you spread your legs with his foot. 

"Ready?" He asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. Instead he grips onto your hips and slams his cock inside of you, stretching you out and giving you no time to adjust to his size. "Such a tight pussy." He groans, his hands holding onto you tighter as your hands are laid out above your head, red marks from the belt very visible but you didn't care. 

Kai never slowed his pace, he fucked you hard and he fucked you good. 

"Shit shit." You cry out as he hits your g spot with every thrust. "P..please don't stop." You cry. You can hear him grunting behind you, making you clench yourself around his cock. 

"Don't stop that." He groans, his fingertip digging into your hips. "Shit." He moans. "I'm gonna..cum." he finishes, pulling out to cum on your ass. "Fuck." He sighs, as he pumps himself a few more times, making sure he rides his high for as long as he can. 

"That was.." he begins. 

"Great." You finish, pulling down your dress. You smile at him as he zips up his pants. "Will you come home with me?" You ask, a little nervous he might say no. 

"I'd love too." He smiles, opening the car door for you. You slide in, and he closes it before running to the drivers side and backing out of the alley way. His arm rests on your thigh for the entire drive back to your apartment, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter. 

**

The next morning you wake up to feel a hand wrapped around your stomach with a face buried into your neck. You smile as you remember he came home with you last night, and you smile even harder as you feel his large friend poking you in the ass. 

With a smirk on your face you wiggle your ass against his boner, making his groan. "Tease." He mumbles as he nuzzles his face further to your neck. 

"You can always just slip it in. Cum in my pussy." You whisper, making him raise his head. He reaches down, lifting your leg to go over his, opening you up slightly before he pulls down his boxers, letting his friend free. You arch your back as he guides himself inside of you, slowly thrusting in and out. He hand reaches up and under your shirt, cupping your breast before twiddling your nipples as he pumps his hips. 

"Fuck." You moan as his hand leaves your breasts and moves up to wrap around your throat. His large hands squeeze your neck as he thrusts into you harshly. 

"Rub your clit." He says, demanding you to do so. You reach between your legs and begin playing with the throbbing bud, rubbing it in circles, your pussy tightening around his cock.

"Good girl." He breathes into your ear, his head tightening again around your neck. 

"I'm.. gonna.." you cry. 

"Cum." He demands, breathing the word heavily into your ear. Shivers send down your spine as you orgasm takes over, making you cry out, loudly. 

Kai grunts a few times before spilling his juices inside of you. "Fuck." He sighs, milking himself for everything. 

He pulls himself out of you and rolls out of bed, pulling his pants on. 

"What are you doing?" You ask, confused. 

"I thought you were going to ask me to leave." He says, shrugging his shoulders. 

"Actually." You pause. "I was going to see if you wanted to come to the store with me. I was going to make you some food." You say, sitting up in your bed. "But if you want to go.." you pause. 

"I don't want to go..it's just i'm always asked to leave after." He says. "No one asks me to stay." 

"I'm asking you to stay. Spend the day with me?" You ask. 

The smile on his face could light up an entire city, the two of you so happy in that moment, but little did you know, things wouldn't be so happy in the future. 

**

Things with you and Kai were great for the first couple of months until the two of you had gotten more serious than either of you had expected in such a short amount of time. 

It had only been nine months but you knew with everything you had in your soul that you loved this man more than anything. And you knew he loved you back, but you just couldn't get past his work. 

You knew he didn't love the women he was with, you knew it was only a job but you hated it. You hated that while you thought about him, his dick was inside someone else, making someone else cum, making another woman feel good. And that was the cause of your fights, 99% of the time. 

"Here we go again." Kai sighs, as he grabs a drink from the kitchen. "It's always the same thing." He yells. 

"Yes it is! Why can't you just stop. Stop fucking other women." You yell. 

"It's my job! I founded the company. I built it up from nothing. I can't just walk away from that Ayn. You're asking me to give up alot." He says.  

You take a deep breath. "You know you are so much more than your dick right? You're so special, the way you make people feel is indescribable. But if you only listen to the voices in your head from your past, they will always win. And if you keep doing that, then I won't ever be enough for you. So, when you decide that you’re more than just a sex object, you call me, because you are more than that business. And your business may be booming but baby, you’re dying, I can see that and I hate that you can't. I am trying to fight for more than just us. I'm trying to fight for our future. Either you want or you don't. So let me know." 

With slow steps you walk away, hoping he stops you. 

You close the door hoping he stops you. 

You walk all the way to your car. 

You waited for him to stop you. 

But he never came. 

[minerscanary]

Just Another Night

Whumpmas in july day 3, with the prompt ‘sleep’.

CW: This ones pretty bare, more of a dull pain and comfort rather than hurt. Medication mention, some barely self destructive behavior, does this even count as whump? Nathan Prescott.

----

Nights rarely went without being woken up.

Whether that be in a cold sweat, his clothes drenched and teeth chattering as he climbed out of bed to the shower, or with a burning pain tearing and pulling at his leg. The meds all hit each other terribly, but after so much trial and error you begin to be okay with the side effects. It was either this, or staying in bed all day doing nothing, unable to do anything. He could sacrifice a little bit of sleep anyways, it wasn’t worth it.

But now… There was him in the picture.

Nathan worried about waking him up every time he would wiggle out from under the sheets. Worry about waking up as he would slip into the shower, or pull on his shoes to leave the apartment. If he did decide on the former, like tonight, he would wonder if Warren would notice and mention it in the morning over coffee, just before he had to run off for the day. He ran through a million and one different scenarios on what he would say, how to answer perfectly.

Someone like him, it would be a miracle from god if he didn't have nightmares. Nightmares trapped behind a glass wall, being locked out from doing anything, only able to watch the blood spill and robes burn, stuck just behind his eyes through a thick haze. He turned the knob all the way to the left first, letting burning steam and water splash against his skin, opening his pours and all the dirt stuck in them from when he inevitably forgot to wash his face. It always seemed to be the smallest things, the mundane and ritualistic things he couldn’t quite get. It was better when Warren was there, someone to keep him on the schedule, on some sort of routine, but some nights just fell through the cracks.

He flexed his toes against the white linoleum floor, just to get the feeling back in his leg. His hands were just barely shaking, rubbing at his face, through dirty blonde locks that had days of product in it. Some things just fell through the cracks.

Nathan could almost melt in the heat of the steam, let it sink into his skin and follow it down the drain. Just melt away from the world, the fluorescent and disinfectants. It was a nice thought, to just step away from the world for a second, to let it all melt away from you.

But again… There was him. Warren. The dipshit that he let in his dorm room once and couldn’t get enough of. Somehow they landed out here, away from the hills of Arcadia Bay, in a studio apartment Nathan's father did not trust him with, alone at least. Warren was his little secret, someone that his old world wouldn’t be able to touch, not over Nathan's dead body.

He let out a little breathy laugh in the steam, just at the thought, then reached out to turn the dial the opposite direction, icy cold. It was just a quick burst, enough to give his skin life from all the heat had taken. He wasn’t under it long before turning it all the way off, hearing the smallest knock at the door.

“Nathan?” He heard from the other side, eyes down as he watched water drip from his body.

“Yeah?”

Drip drip drip, down the drain, anywhere else.

Conversations with the man were hardly anything to be scared of, he wasn't. But conversations at all, through a door, in the middle of the night, were generally nerve inducing.

There was a small pause, then trying to open the door, “Sorry, are you almost done? Nathan’s breath caught in his throat, just standing in the shower with nothing else. He quickly grabbed his towel, patting himself down before throwing on a clean set of clothes. The dirty ones were thrown on the floor, he could take care of them later. Warren didn’t say anything else, the studio was silent, listening to Nate’s feet against the wet linoleum, then, the door clicked. His hair was wet and messy, face flushed from the quick change in temperature. Water soaked the neck of his clean t-shirt, on the back of his neck where his hair dripped.

Warren gave this tilted kind of smile, arms out straight, and Nathan fell right in them. The younger brunette had filled out over the years, lanky limbs finally looking right when he grew to his full height. He was definitely bigger than Nathan, enough to rest his chin on the top of his head as he held him against his chest. “How are you feeling?” It felt like a dumb question, but Warren asked it anyways.

“Just fine, Graham.” Nathan locked his hands around Warren’s waist, the others over his shoulders, holding him as they stood outside the bathroom door. “I’m just fine.” He felt the hesitancy in the others movements, and spoke again. “I’m not fucking sensitive.”

Well. It came out wrong, but the meaning got by nonetheless.

He felt the other’s hand slip into his hair, brush at oily and wet locks, push them back and away from his forehead. That water dripped down his neck, onto Warren’s hand. “Do you need some advil or something? I got those strawberry melatonin things, if they’d help.”

Nathan let out a breath against Warren’s shirt, then in again, taking in the cedar scent of his cologne, mixed with the seaside smell of their laundry detergent.

Their laundry detergent, it sounded so fucking domestic.

“You should try and go back to bed,” Warren spoke again, resting his chin on top of Nathan’s wet hair. “Just a few more hours before we gotta be up.”

We this, and ours that, Nathan’s teeth clenched together, throat warm and tight as he gripped tighter around the tall brunette's waist. Someone looking out for him, who seemed like they cared about him, who wanted to take care of him, it all feld similar. Like a sweater you meant to throw out, scratching at your skin, yet you wear it regardless, lest it go to waste.

“Nathan?”

Warren’s voice was grating, scratching at Nathan’s ears like wool. He gulped, pulling away in a harsh movement, letting his messy hair fall back over his eyes. He couldn’t even say a word, too frightened of the cracks in his voice, almost stomping to his bed, grabbing one of the blankets before stopping back in front of Warren. He couldn’t look up at him, just squared his jaw with mumbled words, “I’m sleeping on the couch. Go back to bed.” He didn’t wait to see if Warren would, chances were he would probably just start the coffee machine and leave. Nathan just took the blanket to the living kitchen dining area, pulling it over him as he fell onto the couch. 

It was a cheap thing he managed to buy with his own money, dragged up the steps of his building, and into his apartment. It didn’t cost much, but nuzzling his face into the corner of it, back to the TV, the smell of mothballs in his throat, the plush blanket draped over him. 

Just alone. 

Completely alone. 

Quiet. 

It was nice. 

Empty, and nice. 

No one to pull him one way or the other, even if he could hear footsteps through the rooms. Warren didn’t matter right now. Nothing mattered right now. Just the few hours he could strangle until he had to be a functioning human being.

---

@whumpmasinjuly

[janeyseymour]

I Would Face My Fears For You

Hi! An anon asked for Mum!Aragon taking care of Kat, so here you go! Enjoy! 

Jane was out of town for four days. Just four days. And on the third day, Katherine Howard was not having it. She was beginning to spiral, and try as they might, no other queen stood a chance in calming down the fifth queen like the third could.

“For the love of God, can someone please handle Kat? She just yelled at me for breathing!” Anne huffed as she stormed to her room.

“Not it,” Cathy got out quickly.

“She already yelled at me today for walking too loudly. I’m not doing it.” Anna opened the front door and left.

That left Catherine of Aragon. The one queen who Katherine was still a bit wary of.

“Kat?” Catherine knocked on the door gently. She heard a small squeak, but nothing distinguishable. “Katherine?” The first queen turned the knob and entered the room. The fifth queen was nowhere to be seen by the plain eye. And then, she saw a lump of laundry slowly rise up and down.

“Kit, I know you’re in here. Come on, I’m not here to yell at you. I just want to see if you’re alright.”

The pink queen slowly unhid herself, revealing tears streaming down her face. 

“Do you want to-” Catherine started.

“-I’m sorry. I’ve been a monster, and I know it,” Howard trembled. “I just,” she trailed off before whispering, “I miss Jane.”

“So do I,” the mighty queen admitted softly. “Do you mind if I sit?”

“You don't have to ask,” the younger queen mumbled, although not hastily.

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think I was trying to invade your space,” Catalina explained gently. “I know how that can be sometimes.”

“I-” Katherine paused. No one aside from Jane had ever done that before. “Thank you,” she blushed.

“It’s not a problem. So uh, do you want to talk about it? Or would you rather we just sit here? Or, I could leave if you-”

“Please don’t,” the fifth queen rushed out. “Please stay.”

“Okay,” the hispanic let a small smile spread across her face.

“I just really miss Jane. The other girls are great and everything, but sometimes they can be a bit much. Jane always has this really calming presence to her, and sometimes I need that.”

“I get that. Why do you think your mum and I spend so much time together?”

“Because you’re secretly dating?” The fifth queen had her suspicions for a while but wasn’t brave enough to say anything to the blonde.

“I-I-uh,” the golden queen stumbled over her words.

“It’s okay. Mum’s been happier since you two got together,” Kat assured her.

“Okay. Well, yes- we are dating. But, I spent time with her before that because she’s like the calm before and after the storm. Sometimes, I need that too.”

“Yeah.” Katherine twiddled her thumbs. “I really miss her.”

“So do I. It sucks, right?” The first queen chuckled awkwardly. 

“Uh,” the fifth queen wasn’t quite sure what to say. Catherine always spoke with such regality, and here she was saying that it “sucked” that she also missed the third queen. It also wasn’t common for somebody to let her feel that way. It was always about “thinking positively”.

“It’s okay to miss her, you know. It’s okay to feel things, even the sad.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think we could be sad for tonight, and then when she comes home tomorrow we can both be happy?”

“I think I’d like that,” the pink queen disclosed.

And so, Catherine and Katherine ended up spending the night in the golden queen’s pale yellow room cozied under an absurd amount of blankets. The two were sleeping peacefully when the younger queen bolted upright and stampeded into the bathroom, only to empty her dinner from her stomach.

“Kit? Are you-” Catherine stumbled into the bathroom half awake. When she caught sight of the sweet one on the floor throwing up, she was instantly alert. When anyone was sick, Aragon was on high alert. Now, with the girl’s mother not here to calm her down, she knew she had to be fully awake to handle this.

“What would Jane do? What would Jane do?” Catherine wondered aloud before she figured it out. She quickly tied up the hair that Katherine was holding back before dropping down to the cool tile with her. Rubbing small circles on her back, she whispered sweet nothings to the girl. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Let it out mija,” she let the term of endearment slip without putting much thought into it.

“Sorry,” Katherine muttered. “I’m sorry.” The young woman suddenly looked so small and helpless. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for mija. We all get sick sometimes.”

“I know, but usually Jane deals with me when I’m sick. I know you don’t like being around people who are sick.” Katherine had a realization. Catherine didn’t like being around people who were sick; she was terribly afraid of sickness. “Oh, oh god,” she stumbled out before racing to her room.

“Kit dear,” Aragon followed her, only to watch the woman collapse to the ground, eyes wide and breaths getting shakier and shallower. It was as if she had seen a ghost.

“I-I-I-” the fifth queen stuttered out, not showing any signs of overcoming the panic attack anytime soon.

Thankfully, the first queen had watched Jane coach Katherine through quite a few of these. Knowing that touching the girl without warning or asking was a big no-no, she refrained from pulling the woman into her arms.

“Kit, can you hear me? It’s Cath. It’s Lina. It’s just Lina,” she offered uncertainly. The younger queen didn’t show any signs of hearing her. “Can I touch you? Hold your hand?” The girl gave a small, timid nod. One might not have even noticed it if they weren’t paying attention. The older queen laid a gentle hand on the other’s. “I need you to try to take a deep breath for me. It’s okay.”

“I-I-I- b-b-but i-i-it’s not!” Katherine’s voice grew loud. “You d-d-d-don’t like s-s-s-sickness.”

“I would face my fear to take care of you, love,” Catalina tried a pet name she heard Jane use so often. That seemed to calm her down slightly. “Come on love,” she tried again. “I need you to try to take a deep breath for me.” The fifth queen took a still shaky but deeper breath than before. “That’s it love. Can we try another?” The two sat on the floor for quite some time before the fifth calmed down enough to speak.

“I’m-” Katherine began to apologize, but Aragon was not hearing any of it. 

“I’m not hearing the apologies Kit. You don’t apologize to Jane.”

“Yeah but she’s Jane.”

“And we’re all more than happy to help you through these things too mija.”

“If you want, you can go back to your room. I can stay here tonight,” the fifth queen mumbled. 

“Is that what you want?” Aragon questioned.

“I-What?” The pink queen was so used to the first queen commanding any room she walked into. It was quite odd seeing her so gentle... so unsure.

“Do you want me to go?” The golden one looked quite concerned still. 

“Not really,” the fifth queen admitted quietly.

“Then I’ll stay. Give me a moment, and I’ll be right back. Get yourself all tucked into bed, okay?” Catalina walked out of the room for a very quickly thirty seconds, returning with a cool rag to lay on the sickly woman’s head. “Here. I don’t know if this actually helps, but I’ve seen Jane do it.”

“Thank you,” Kat let a small smile slip. “Come here Lina.” The fifth queen lifted up her duvet and allowed the golden queen to shuffle under it awkwardly.

“Get some sleep kiddo. If you need me, I’ll be right here.” The first queen positioned herself on her back and closed her eyes. Even when she was trying to go to sleep, she looked elegant. 

“Do you-” Aragon opened her arms, and Kat wiggled into them. “Thank you.” The fifth queen fell asleep, Catherine of Aragon not far behind. The two slept well into the afternoon, something not uncommon for Katherine, but almost unheard of from Catherine.

“Hi loves,” Jane sang as she walked through the door.

“Hey Janey!” Anne grinned as her, Anna, and Cathy kept their eyes glued to the movie they were watching. 

“Where are Lina and Kitty?”

“I haven’t seen either of them,” Cathy replied nonchalantly.

That alarmed the blonde. It wasn’t like her girlfriend to stay in bed all day. She dropped her bags and rushed to the yellow room.

“Catalina?” she knocked and entered the room. “What the-?” She sped down the hallway to her daughter’s room. 

“Kitty? It’s Mum.” The silver queen opened the door and audibly squealed just a bit when she saw her partner and daughter cuddled up in bed together. Clearly, something was amiss though. The fifth queen had a rag laying over her forehead.

“Hi sleepyheads,” she made her voice soft as she woke both of her girls up. “I’m home.”

“Hey babe,” Catherine let out sleepily, making the third queen blush deeply.

“Lina I don’t-”

“She knows.”

“Hi Mum,” Kat smiled, eyes still closed.

“Were you not feeling well?”

“I woke up last night and got sick, but Lina took care of me. Thank you for that by the way.” The last part of her sentence was directed towards the first queen as she gently squeezed her. 

“You did?” Jane looked shocked. “You get nervous taking care of me when I’m sick!”

“Kit needed someone to look out for her.” The third queen’s eyebrow shot up at that, but Catherine shot her a look that said they would speak later- without the queen in question present. 

“Okay well, scooch over.” The two in bed shifted slightly, making room for the blonde. “Let’s get some sleep.”

“So, how did that end up happening?” The two dating were currently sitting at a coffee shop by themselves.

“Kit was having a rough time. I was sent to check on her, which I obviously didn’t mind doing. We were just going to have an ‘I miss Jane’, but then she got sick in the middle of the night. She had a panic attack-”

“She had a panic attack?” Jane sounded a bit panicked herself. 

“It’s okay. I helped her through it. Then, we just went to bed, and stayed there until you found us.”

“Thank you for taking care of my girl.”

“You know I would do anything for any of you, Janey.”

“I know love, and we would do anything for you too. Even Anne.”

“Do you think Kat is really okay with us going out?”

“She doesn’t just curl up to anybody in her bed. Around the house? Yes. On the couch? Yes. But in her bed? Not even Annie has had that honor.”

“Really?” Catherine looked shocked. Maybe the fifth queen wasn’t as wary of her as she thought.

“Really love. I think she’s fine with it,” Jane assured her girlfriend.

When Catherine got sick the next day, Jane and Katherine were right by her side to nurse her back to health. Thankfully, Jane didn’t get sick to the stomach. When the blonde did? Well, that was never a good time.

[zecretsanta]

FIC: The Devil You Know

To: @kiichu

From: @pomegranate-belle

AO3 LINK

This is for the prompt: Hongou and Akane are forced to work together during a dangerous situation and they are having a Miserable Time™

I had a lot of fun with this one! Hope you enjoy it!

This isn’t the first time Akane Kurashiki has woken somewhere unfamiliar with a headache and stiff joints and no memory of how she got there. Unfortunately, she knows it probably won’t be the last. That’s just how your life tends to go when you’re locked in an endless, multiverse-spanning battle against a doomsday cult.

Her first instinct is to grab hold of the river of time in front of her, to study its myriad possibilities. But she can’t marshal enough focus. The morphogenetic field slips through her fingers like sand. Instead, Akane levers herself up to a sitting position and looks around.

The room spins for a moment before settling into clarity. It’s small, more of a pod than a room, and the walls are plated in metal. No windows, just a large steel door with no handle or knob, and a vent in the far corner that’s too small for anything but a rabbit. There is no furniture.

With a groan, Akane drags a hand down her face and forces down the dregs of her nausea. Then, she stands.

The pod is barely six feet across from either direction, or so she estimates from the number of steps it takes to cross from one side to the other. Even a close examination reveals no window or camera. No safe to crack or puzzle to solve, like there would be in a Nonary Game. Not a single loose screw, no access to remove the door hinges, nothing trapped in the vent that she can reach when she wiggles her fingers through the tiny slats.

And yet, ventilation. Air. She’s being kept alive, at least for now. Which means, eventually, someone will have to open the door to feed her.

Sitting again and folding her legs comfortably beneath her, Akane resigns herself to waiting.

—

After almost three hours, the vent begins to hiss. Cracking open her eyes reveals a thick white gas pouring into the room. Foolishly, Akane can’t stop her own sharp inhale of surprise, and a lungful of the gas has her head spinning. She drops to the floor, then yanks up the collar of her sweater to cover her mouth and nose.

There’s no camera, she reminds herself, and begins to inch towards the door. They’re probably going to pump the room with gas until they’re good and sure she’s been knocked out, then bring in food so their guard doesn’t have to worry about being caught unawares. All Akane has to do is stay low and awake and close to the exit.

She breathes shallowly, through the thick fabric of the sweater, and counts the seconds. She’s almost to two hundred when the vent stops pumping gas into the room. She’s at five hundred and twelve before the smoke has dissipated completely. On count six hundred, the door cracks open.

Akane hurtles through it, lunging for the cloaked legs of the cult member outside. Unbalanced, they topple forward and into the pod, just like she planned. Leaping to her feet, Akane slams the door closed on her erstwhile captor before they can so much as shout, then dusts off her hands and begins to take a look around.

The room she’s emerged into is more of a small hallway than a room. It’s lined with a handful of doors — her own and another cell on one wall, a door opposite, and one more door on the perpendicular wall to her right. That one is where the unfortunate clone now trapped in the cell came from, most likely. Compared to the door across the hall which has a window and slot, and the cell doors which have large wheels and keypads, it’s bizarrely nondescript. A service entrance. Staff only.

It would be the easiest way out, architecturally — but it’s probably also crawling with clones just like the one now locked in the cell behind her. One on one with the element of surprise is one thing, and outnumbered is another one entirely — she doesn’t want to take the chance.

So, instead of turning towards the service entrance type door, Akane makes her way to the second cell. Its door is identical to hers, and the input above the keypad indicates it takes a five-number code of digits zero through nine. She stares at it for a minute, two, and her head which was still a bit fuzzy before begins to clear. The streams of time slot slowly into focus again and Akane reaches out to brush her hands through them at the same time she trails her fingers over the numbered keys. There’s a hundred thousand possible combinations — 99,998 of which are wrong, one of which is right, and one of which is very wrong. With no one else to reach out to through the morphogenetic field, though, that’s all she can get.

And so, Akane does what she always does when she finds herself trapped in a strange room. She looks for clues.

Although the small hallway is devoid of furniture, the walls aren’t bare. Several paintings line the wall to her left. Five of them, in fact. They’re each different in color and subject, but something about the composition of them is similar. Akane tilts her head. Squints.

And then it hits her. There’s a cityscape, a pastoral piece with an orchard, a kelp forest, an abstract painting of a loose grid of rectangles, and a painting of a pantry interior. All five have a grid structure, and that structure matches the positions of the keys on the number pad. Each one has only one ‘button’ filled — with a person or an animal or an object or a pattern: 3-3-5-8-2.

It’s worth a shot, she supposes. And so, Akane returns to the cell door and begins keying in the numbers. Her finger pauses over the two as a flash of dread washes suddenly down her spine. For three seconds she freezes, evaluating that dread. Then she clicks the erase button and starts over — backwards to forwards this time. No unease follows, and when she hits the enter key, the lock clicks. With a turn of the wheel, she drags the door open.

The other prisoner didn’t manage to escape the effects of the gas, it seems. They’re prone on the floor of their cell, coat spread like a shroud around them, and Akane has to crouch to get a good look at the face beneath that salt and pepper hair.

She lurches backwards immediately.

The part of her that’s still a child — standing in that incinerator, staring down a puzzle she could never hope to solve alone — freezes in terror.

Hongou.

That’s Gentarou Hongou passed out in the floor of the cell next to hers. And for several seconds — too long, too long — it doesn’t matter that she’s already beaten him. It doesn’t matter that he failed, not once but twice, or that she manipulated him into getting her revenge on his co-conspirators for her. Because some part of her still sees him as the bogeyman.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Akane forces her breathing back under control. She stands, clenches her fists and digs her nails into her palms.

She almost closes the cell door again. Almost.

Only her own practicality reminds her that she’s done the work to open the cell already and shouldn’t waste it. But her skin still prickles as she turns to pace the rest of the hall and he falls out of her peripheral vision.

She needs to focus. Focus on more than just the physical walls around her. Akane takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

There. There on the edge of her consciousness, is a familiar tug. Aoi. A smile flits across Akane’s face. If he can feel her, he can find her. That’s one of the perks of the connection they have. It’ll take time, but Aoi will find her eventually.

I’m coming, he thinks in her direction, and she can hear it like he’s standing next to her.

But the thought, though reassuring, gives her pause. She’s been kept alive. Alive, but trapped. Alive, but trapped, but mostly conscious, even though they know — have to know — about Aoi. That he’ll find her, that he always comes to get her.

Which means they want him to come.

It’s a trap.

Of course it is. Of course. She’s the perfect bait for Aoi and Junpei and the rest of the Crash Keys team.

Akane glances back at the open cell and the figure still collapsed there.

Why Hongou? Who would come for him? His team, his research partners, were all dead. Last Akane had heard, he was still a prisoner of…

SOIS. Of course.

What better way to lure them in than steal a prisoner right out from under their noses? Akane can almost imagine the look on Clover’s face. She’s bound to charge right in guns blazing.

So. What Akane needs to do is get them out, herself and Hongou, before anyone gets ensnared in Free the Soul’s trap. Well. Anyone else, anyway.

This time, instead of studying the walls around her, Akane makes a beeline for the door opposite their cells.

Up close, she can see that the slot beneath its window is larger than expected, not simply a mail slot. Large enough to reach through, maybe. Cautiously, Akane slips a hand through the slot, going up on her tiptoes to peer through the window. The room beyond the door is furnished with a leather couch and a small table with some sort of game on it. Though Akane feels down and left, there’s no doorknob on the opposite side of the door. Just flat wood. But just as she’s extracting her hands, her fingertips brush something else, set below the slot in the door.

A sliding puzzle. Of all the things. Akane rolls her eyes. She can feel the pieces under her hands as she reaches through the door slot, but… they’re on the outside. There’s no way to see—

Or is there?

As she traces her fingers over a piece, movement through the glass of the window catches her eye. A mirror. It’s not angled perfectly for the task, and there’s some sort of writing on it that obscures the reflection a little, but she can at least make out most of the scrambled puzzle design.

It’s an eye of Horus.

Goal in mind, Akane begins. The click and slide of the puzzle pieces is rhythmic, soothing. This, at least, is simple where everything else is complex. When she focuses on the image slowly emerging in front of her, she doesn’t have to fight back the knot of bile and anger in her chest at having been captured by Delta. She doesn’t have to think about all the small decisions that led her here, or how things could have been different. She doesn’t have to think about the man still lying unconscious six feet away. It all fades away.

“Miss?”

Akane starts at the voice. It’s Hongou, but not the way he sounds in her head when she thinks of him — not wild and frenzied, not spitting vitriol. Cautious. Gentle. Unassuming. The way his voice sounded when he called himself Ace. She turns to look at him from the corner of her eye, and his posture is just as soft as his tone.

“Did you open that door for me?” he continues, but Akane doesn’t respond. “It looks like we’ve both been taken prisoner here. My name is Gentarou Hongou.”

He’s limping.

Every time his left foot touches the floor, he lets out a hiss from between his teeth. But he makes his way closer until they’re only a foot or two apart.

“What’s your name?” he asks kindly.

Akane forces down the lurch in her stomach. She doesn’t give in to the urge to pull her arms back through the slot in the door so she has a way to defend herself. Instead she takes a calming breath. One. Two. Three.

He doesn’t even know it’s her, with the prosopagnosia. She could be anyone if she doesn’t speak. Anyone at all.

But it’s the vindictive part, the part that wants him to know, that opens her mouth.

“My name is Akane Kurashiki,” she says with her heart pounding in her chest. “Long time no see, Mr. Hongou.”

It’s his turn to recoil, then. His turn to feel afraid. In some distant way, Akane knows it’s probably wrong of her to delight in that fear — but she does anyway. Eventually the darkness inside him falls over his features, hardening them into a familiar face that’s nothing like the soft and gentle mask of before.

Good. She prefers him like this. No pretenses between them.

“So,” Hongou says, slowly, limping one step closer, two. “They captured you as well.”

“Not for long,” Akane tells him.

And with a heavy click, she slides the last puzzle piece into place. The door unlocks.

As Akane pulls it open, she realizes the purpose of the slot in the door. There is no doorknob inside the room; someone on the other side would need to twist the doorknob on this one to open the door. The very design attempting to make reaching her difficult is what’s allowing her to escape. The thought is satisfying.

Akane steps into the now-unlocked room, and Hongou follows. The door swings shut behind them.

Then, there are two loud, nearly-simultaneous clicks from either end of the room. Hongou whirls to ram his shoulder into the door they just passed through, but it doesn’t budge an inch. Akane doesn’t have to test the one across the room to know it’s locked, but she tries its handle anyway.

“Locked?”

Akane nods.

“We’re trapped,” she says. “At least for now.”

Because as she glances around the room, parts of it are minutely different. A panel has opened up on one wall. A section of the floor has flipped to reveal a box of some sort.

“A truce, then?” Hongou offers.

His voice isn’t false and charming. Nor is it threatening. It’s flat and practical, but it shakes just the tiniest bit on the last syllable.

“A truce?” Akane repeats, because she can’t think of anything else to say — a truce, with him, of all people?

She’s planning on getting him out of here with her for Clover’s sake anyway, but a truce implies trust.

“You need me.” His expression twists for a moment, just a moment. “We need each other. If we want to make it out of this place.”

He’s not wrong. The puzzles are all built to be accessed from the outside in, and designed with their ‘rescuers’ in mind — in other words, multiple people. Normally, any puzzles could then be bypassed to escape in the unintended direction — but if this one is any indication, the rooms lock at both ends when entered. So to escape, they still likely need to solve all the puzzles — possibly by working backwards at times, like with the sliding puzzle.

Physically, this can’t be done with only one person. She needs him if she’s going to get out of here. And she has to get out.

Aoi is coming. She just has to escape in time to meet him, and that’s all that matters. She needs to use every tool at her disposal — and that includes Hongou.

“Fine,” she tells him sharply, and begins searching for clues.

—

They… The thing is, they work well together. Efficiently. Their minds are similar in a way that might make Akane uncomfortable if she had more time to devote to navel-gazing or more of a proclivity for it. They’re both analytical. Sharp. Akane hardly has to ask for a piece of any particular puzzle in any of the rooms — Hongou is already ready and waiting with it. They crisscross the puzzle rooms, and even solving clues backwards on a busted ankle doesn’t seem to slow him down. They’re making good time.

That’s not to say that they’re happy about it, or even remotely cordial.

“I’ll handle this one,” Hongou says nastily, three rooms in, when Akane makes the mistake of flinching away from a puzzle built into a lit fireplace. “Wouldn’t want you to get burned.”

“I guess you are more expendable,” Akane bites back through a poisonous smile.

Still, they get into a rhythm.

That’s Akane’s mistake — getting complacent. Lowering her guard.

She’s focused on the clicking of the dial lock in her hands, on the safe in front of her instead of the man next to her or the streams of time woven all around them. She doesn’t sense the prickling warning of wrongness until the solid thunk of some mechanism — not in the safe, but in the walls themselves.

“Look out!”

A wide hand slams into Akane’s side and sends her across the room. She hits the ground, and there’s a metallic shing, then the sound of liquid splattering the floor.

The fall knocked Akane’s bangs into her eyes, but they’re not so thick they can’t be seen through. Hongou is still standing, and his hand is clasped against his right side. Red soaks between his fingers, and droplets of it are scattered across the floor like petals. Embedded in the wall next to the safe is a blade, dripping with blood.

Slowly, Hongou removes his hand from the wound in his side. Brings it up in front of his face. He looks at the blood smeared on his hand like he doesn’t know how it got there — brows furrowed, mouth hanging open in a soft oval of confusion. Akane, heart still pounding, pushes her hair out of her face.

She wants to ask him why he protected her. But her mouth won’t form the words, and in all honesty, she’s not sure he knows either. The two of them are cold, calculating, manipulative. Possibly even monsters in the right light. Akane could spin a tale that makes herself seem selfless, heroic… But the truth is that she and Hongou have both done whatever they had to in order to reach their own goals. There is no room for self-sacrifice or compassion for their enemies, not in the games they play.

And yet, he probably saved her life.

For a long uncomfortable moment, the silence stretches between them.

And then Akane’s practicality takes over.

He’s still bleeding. They have nothing to sterilize the wound, but they can at least bind it. She tears the nearby tablecloth into strips for makeshift bandages and ignores the voice in her head suggesting she let him bleed out. It’s not the time for petty revenge, not when they’re so close to escaping.

And they are close. Akane can feel it. The branches of their timeline are solidifying into fewer and fewer outcomes. There’s less choices to make.

While Houngou sinks down onto the room’s couch, Akane returns to the safe which almost killed her. This time, she knows the solution to the lock like it’s been laid out in front of her. Can feel the river of the timeline twisting between right and wrong. She twists the lock left-right-left instead of right-left-right, and it clicks. The safe opens.

Inside it is a single brass key. Deceptively small, but heavy in her hand when she picks it up. It slots perfectly into the keyhole in the center of the wall. There are several clanks and clicks, some mechanism moving behind the walls, and at last both doors in the room unlock.

Akane walks over to the couch and pulls Hongou to his feet, slipping his left arm over her shoulders so she can take the weight off his injured foot without pulling at the wound in his side. They hobble towards the door, and open it.

Beyond is a long dark corridor. No puzzles or doors or traps — just a hallway that fades into blackness before she can see the end of it.

Akane steps through, bringing Hongou with her. Their progress is slow. And as time passes with no end in sight, it gets even slower. He doesn’t ask for a break, but if he passes out then she’ll have to take all of his wait instead of only most of it — so Akane stops when Hongou seems particularly weak or weary. Leans him against the concrete walls to catch his breath.

“You could just leave me,” he says, wryly. “If I were you that’s what I would’ve done.”

“Just be glad I’m not like you, then. We’re almost there,” Akane says, and knows that it’s true.

She adjusts her grip, takes more of Hongou’s weight. They’re going to get out. Both of them.

She’s never going to forgive him for what he’s done — but she’s not going to leave him behind either. Not with Delta and Free the Soul. Hongou is a monster, but he’s her type of monster, and when he’s powerless he’s nothing more than a sad, pathetic old man. Right now, she’s not afraid.

The corridor ahead is long, and the stairs are steep. But when they reach the top, the door is unlocked. They shuffle out into the cold, crisp air of a forest that’s dusted with snow. Above them stretches a canopy of midnight blue, studded with a million glittering stars.

There’s a feeling in Akane’s chest, welling like a mountain spring — clean and clear and bright. She thinks it might be hope.

[reeesea]

Something Sweet: Part Nine

~something special~

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

pairing: minsung, han jisung/lee minho

warning: mild language, brief depiction of anxiety

words: 3.3k

summary:  3RACHA debuts and they take over the world obviously, and minsung get softer somehow

a/n: literally always shook when I come back and someone has liked one of these chapter. But I’m so thankful to anyone whose read this <3

ao3 link

-------

The dancing trio’s apartment was cleaned and tidied up more than it probably had been in months. The three roommates had luckily found the time to tackle the figurative ocean that was their floor and the piles of clothes, books and shoes that littered it. All in all it was objectively not a large amount of mass but on the minimal square footage they had it made the already tiny space unbearably claustrophobic.  

The living room screen had been flooded up and placed against the wall for the special occasion, allowing the window above Felix's bed to actually stream in light to the rest of the room. Doing a bit of moving around of the furniture had been tiring but it allowed the space to open up and feel a little less like they were stuck living in a small cave, as Hyunjin had put it. Out of all of them Hyunjin had been very invested in the interior design of the room, while Felix and Minho merely humored him, to get the space clean as quick as they could, despite Hyunjins particularities.  

The evening had found them settled to enjoy their newly tidied space with a watch party of 3RACHA’s scheduled debut stage.  

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

“Jinnie, will you get the door by chance.” Minho yelled from the stove. He was busy trying to cook up their rabokki, since a hungry Felix mentioned his craving for comfort food after his audition that morning. 

Getting up, the lanky blonde wandered to the door. “Hyung, were you expecting anyone?” Without an answer he jiggled the knob of their door to coax the door into opening, not bothering to check the peephole as it was nothing more than a literal hole in the door that they had taped over when they moved in. 

“OH hey Hyun-”  Slam.  

A whole Kim Seungmin was standing on the other side of their door, and to say Hyunjin was unprepared to face his long standing university crush of two years is an understatement. 

“HYUNG!!!”

“Yes Jinnie~” 

“Did you just sl-” Minho’s voice was full of a teasing lilt, Felix’s was just simply confused at the loud door slam.

“WERE YOU GOING TO MENTION YOU INVITED KIM SEUNGMIN OVER TO OURS, OR WAS I JUST MEANT TO HAVE HEART ATTACK AND SPEND THE REST OF THE NIGHT A NERVOUS WRECK” 

“Well I invited him over because we are work husbands, but I also had hoped you would actually talk to the boy you've been anonymously pinning over since freshman year” 

“Don't worry Jinnie Suengmin is so nice! And if you're nervous I'll hold your hand.” Felix did cute grabby hands from the couch.

“Lix that kinda defeats the-”

“Hwang Hyunjin, open the door for our guest before I have to kick your cowardly ass.”

Okay Ow. Hurtful! 

Hyunjin knew he was right though and opened the door to a rather alarmed and confused Seungmin.

“Oh hey Hyunjin I thought that was you, I was afraid I had gotten the wrong apartment number.” His smile was so gentle that Hyunjin’s soul may have left his body. 

“Yeah. Nope, I mean yes this is the right place. Come on in! Sorry about slamming it earlier we have some janky door hinges.” Felix giggled and earned him a death glare from the long haired blondie. 

“Oh no problem! I’ve had to deal with my fair share of goofy doors at SU.” Of course Hyunjin nodded, completely understanding, even if he himself had never lived on Seoul University's campus. 

Hyunjin knew Suengmin had spent time as a resident adviser for the dorms. He also knew that he was a business and photography double major, also his current favorite restaurant, cafe, and book. Also not to mention that he was most obviously spending the summer as Minho’s co-worker. Hyunjin had done his fair share of social media stalking to learn more about the boy he had spent a long ass time pining over, as Felix puts it. It definitely wasn't one of his proudest moments, but he couldn't help but admire Seungmin after meeting him during their first year orientation. 

Opportunities to talk to Seungmin were rare, as their majors did not generally intercept plus Hyunjin’s general fear of speaking to the other. It seems Minho, being the attentive hyung he is, found the perfect opportunity for Hyunjin to actually get to know him. Without telling or mentioning it to the now flustered dancer. Damn him. 

“Glad you could make it Seungmo~” 

“God, I told you not to call me that.” Suengmin delivered his usual sarcastic banter toward the older, Felix laughed to himself, quite enjoying watching the drama unfold in front of him. 

“But of course I cant miss a good watch party.”

Although red in the face and ears glowing red from sitting next to Seungmin on their couch, Hyunijin feels light at the atmosphere around him, and smiles fondly toward them. Felix’s whispered “whipped” resulted in a kick to the shins. Minho brought a pot of noodles, rice cakes, cheese, and other toppings to their coffee table. Felix practically let out an inhuman squeal as he moved to grab some of the steaming noodles. 

“Suen-min does aht mean you like thee Racha?”

“Lix chew your food first you fool.” Felix takes a minute to slurp up and finish chewing before restating his questions, but Seungmin responds readily some how understanding the incoherency of the freckled pixie boy.

“Oh Yeah! Vaguely, one of my old friends from high school is Changbin’s brother. So he practically forced me to listen to all their music whenever they released new tracks. I’m really happy for them, but can't say I know much about them as a group other than recognizing a few songs'' 

“Really? That's so cool, I didn't know he had a brother.” 

“We literally met him Felix.” Hyunjin can't help but tease the other for his starstruck state when they first met 3RACHA. 

“He was too distracted by Chan’s smile and Changbin’s biceps to remember that.” Minho smirked.

“Shut it Hyung!” Felix threw a pillow at the older, sending the rest of them into a fit of giggles. 

“You can’t say anything Min-hyung, you're literally Jisung’s boyfriend.”

“I knew it!” Seungmin shouted accusingly. 

“STOP, No god he is not my boyfriend.” 

“Last Friday suggests differently~” Felix ever so casually mentions with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle. Seungmin’s eyebrows were raised at his hyung.

“Yeah hyung, you practically never let go of his hand all night.” Hyunjin smirked at his hyung, taking some form of embarrassment revenge on the older.

“Oh my god your kidding! Hyunjinnie you have to tell me everything.” And of course being the whipped man he was, he did, much to Minho’s despair, gladly fueling the other with material to tease thier hyung.

---

“Okay! Everyone! Shut up! ITS STARTING!!!” Even though no one was speaking they all unanimously agreed to comply with Felix’s outburst. The screen showed the hosts speaking from cue cards before a heavy back track flooded the speakers of their small TV. 3RACHA flashed across the screen as did the members' concept images. Felix had already squealed over them earlier in the week when they were posted on instagram (Minho did too but in his room privately). Still the images hit differently as they were broadcasted on television for the whole country and world to see. 

CB97… SpearB… J.One…

Their photos completely embodied their personas and it sent a chill down Minho’s spine in anticipation. The whole world was about to witness the electricity that was 3RACHA performing. 

The scene transitioned into a red lit stage and the three rappers standing in the center of it. The crowd's cheers faded as the beat entered. Heavy bass hitting an addicting rhythm that anyone listening could feel in every part of their chest. And of course because Minho was an unlucky bastard, and Jisung’s rap was first. 

The round cheeked boy with an innocent glint to his eyes and a heart shaped gummy smile was instead replaced with some monster of a man on stage. He hadn't seen them perform since him and Jisung had first met at the Sweet Lotus, and all the memories of J.One and his charismatic flow took over his senses immediately. J.One was on stage in front of him, using every once of his dangerously charming voice to bring in every single viewer’s attention. He uses his tone playfully and masterfully (just to play with his heart apparently, Minho thinks). It wasn't until Jisung ends his verse with a practically growled “zone”, and Chan takes over for the chorus, that Minho realizes he hadn’t been breathing. 

Not that CB97 or SpearB’s verse were going to give him any form of a break either. Chan’s part practically demanded your full attention, practically commanding the viewer to a call to action. Changbins part came in gently but built up to a point where his tone and verse exploded. Booming syllabus matching the booming 808s. The electricity was undeniable. The stage finished all of their voices joining in aggressively and with finality.

 A lone spotlight shone down on them revealing their intense and confident images. Ending fairies full of smirks and cocked eyebrows that left the audience screaming and cheering. 

“Holy shit.” Felix was the first to say anything, but even so they were all left speechless. After their performance of “Zone” no one could deny that they were something big. And Minho had absolutely no doubt in his mind that their three local rapper friends were about to take over the world. The screams from the TV and the cheers after each of their additional songs only solidified it. 

----

“3RACHA WORLD DOMINATION.”

Of course Minho was right, he always was, Jisung definitely knew that by now. But the headlines and the chart topping was all so new and overwhelming to the members it was hard to believe. 3RACHA had exploded practically overnight. Their debut stage had gone viral and hadn't left its place on trending pages in more than a few countries. 

Every day the 3RACHA boys had woken up to more insane news of their accomplishment. Their days are full of constant promo and show recordings for later broadcasts. Sana practically lived in their loft for the week. Their manager’s hours were somehow even longer than theirs and most hours where she was able to sleep it would be on the infamous couch.  

[Lee Minho hyungie]

2:45 pm

We watched your new performance last night!

You guys did amazing

I dont think I’ll ever get tired of listening to the album…

Of course the hectic week of 3RACHA’s debut and all of their new accolades were overwhelming, but Minho’s compliments seem to make Jisung’s heart stutter the most. He would never admit that he had been re-reading all of Minho's messages all week. Their correspondence was lacking due to mainly Jisung’s busy schedule, but the older had kept steady in his messages even if Jisung was largely unable to answer. Minho understood and instead would always send him motivational and supportive statements or goofy selfies of him in various fruit filters, never failing to give Jisung his smile back. 

The week had passed since their debut and Jisung couldn't help but feel light. The three of them had managed to nab some free/rest time for their weekend. Chan was thankfully already taking advantage of it, and had been knocked out asleep in his room since the morning. Changbin was spending some extra time in the complex’s gym, and Sana had finally been given the opportunity to go back to her own apartment to crash. He was so thankful for the small hardworking team he had found himself in. Jisung wanted to make the most of his time as well, and left their apartment for one of his impromptu strolls around the city. Jisung felt light.

----

Minho had taken an earlier shift, trading the weekend dinner wave for the never ending brunch crowd. Thankfully he had gathered a large stack of tips from the rich women tipsy enough from mimosas to slip him a few more percentage points into his pocket. His feet felt heavy from having to stand so long but thankfully he was able to stumble into an empty living room and relax, while the sun still sat comfortably in the sky, basking the room in a warm afternoon light. 

Minho was unwinding peacefully after enjoying his post work shower when his phone rang loudly next to him on the couch. 

[Jisungie is calling]

Jisung never calls him. Worry starts to nip at his insides as he moves to answer the call. 

“Jisung? Hey what's going on?” 

He can’t hear much on the other end but the sound of labored breathing signals that there was a living breathing boy on the other side of the line. 

“Did you mean to call me Sungie?”

“Ye-yes I did. I just needed to call…”Jisung’s voice trailed off, and Minho could hear the boy’s soft hiccups. Worry now rightfully settling to the base of his stomach. He approached the boy on the line gently. 

“Of course, did you need anything?” Jisung took a moment before answering.

“Hyung, I’m scared. There were so many of them outside, and I thought they didn't recognize me at first, but then they started calling my name and kept following me, and I got lost. I think I’m near your place, but i don't want them to find you and I don't wanna go back home. Channie would be so worried an-”

“Hey, hey it's okay baby. Just take a deep breath for me, yeah?” Minho couldn't help but let his protective instinct take over. Jisung was so fragile when he was scared, there isn't anything Minho would do to help him. Jsung was taking steady breaths in and out, and slowly they became more regular. The younger wasn’t crying but Minho didn’t want the other to get anywhere near that state still lost in the city.

“Can you tell me where you are Sung?”

“I-I’m in a convenience store, it's on a corner. I-i think there's a cafe across the street. I think I lost most of them but i'm afraid that there are more.” Minho was already slipping his shoes bringing an extra jacket with him, recognizing the store location. Jisung must mean that the reporters and more aggressive photographers had already tracked down the boys’ location. He lets his angry words for them die in his mouth, opting for a gentler response.

“That's good Sungie, I’m on the way it'll only be a few minutes. Do you want me to stay on the line?”

“Yes please.”

He sounded so small and afraid. It broke Minho’s heart “Okay baby, you wouldn't believe what happened at work today? Wanna hear about that?”

Minho heard something like an affirmative hum from the other side of the line. He kept the one-sided conversation steady so there was never silence. Talking about how Suengmin had somehow been stuck on server duty, and all of his unfortunate run-ins that come from a morning brunch shift. It was easy to keep the conversation light and the focus away from the stress or fear Jisung might be feeling. Minho keeps talking even as he is walking into the convenience store a few blocks from his apartment. 

He finds a startled Jisung practically crouching in on himself in the chip aisle. When Jisung’s eyes finally find him they are wide and stared with the beginnings of tears. Hanging up he holds out his arm, welcoming the other to come closer to him. 

“Hey there stranger, you can come to mine for tonight. That sound okay?” Jisung nods gladly and accepts the jacket Minho handed him, allowing for his obnoxiously orange shirt to be covered into something more inconspicuous. Huddling the sweet boy into his arms, Minho collects their favorite snacks from the shelves and a few ramen packs, and leads them out onto the street, and back to his apartment. The sun setting on the city and the night life awakening, they easily got lost in the crowd.

---

By the time Minho had allowed the worry to die down in his chest, Jisung was curled up in his small bed engulfed in a comforter. Minho had texted an extremely worried Chan about Jisung’s run in with the paparazzi. Jisung had spent a majority of the night not letting go of Minho’s arm, hand, side for even a moment. He remained relatively quiet the rest of the night but Minho was able to pull a few giggles out of the younger. 

Initially Minho was apprehensive about allowing Jisung into their tiny home, but as soon as the boy was in need, Minho’s reservations disappeared. As soon as they walk through the door, Jisungs shoulders relax. 

---

Jisung looked around at the small living room taking in the small bed in the corner and couch, the TV had been left on some mindless program when Minho had rushed to retrieve Jisung. The warm orange light from the setting sun filled the room, adn despite the cramped space and the boys’ overabundance of belongings, Jisung felt warm and at ease. The homey feeling of the apartment was something that he hadn't realized was foreign to him. Sure Jisung felt he had a rather close relationship with his bed back at the loft, but the environment of their place didn't quite compare to the very lived-in apartment he found himself in. 3RACHA had done thier fair share of moving around much to the will of Changbin or his parents, Jisung never minded it though, he was too thankful for their generosity. 

“I like your place Minho-hyung” It was the first time he had spoken since they arrived. Minho flashed him a relieved smile.

“My home is your home now then. Well mine and the other two mongrels' home is yours now too, but they're working late tonight so you're stuck with just me '' Jisung smiled. Minho couldn't help his heart from tugging. 

---

They had spent the night with instant ramen and an over abundance of snacks as they watched videos in Minho’s bed. Jisung fell asleep early, exhausted from his earlier tears and general low energy from the busy week’s drain. Minho moved to make sure Jisung was comfortable, before moving to get washed up for the night. He felt a small fist grab his shirt as he got up. 

“Where are you going?” Jisung had his wide puppy eyes on full display, apparently not asleep at all. 

“Just to wash up Sungie.”

“Will you come back to sleep with me after?” In any other situation the words may have seemed provocative, but with Jisungs sleepy gaze it was only endearing to Minho. Not like Minho would deny him a night in his arms anyway. 

“Of course baby, i'll be right back okay” Jisung let go of his shirt accepting his answer. Minho wasn’t a fool and could feel his heartbeat quicken with being so near to Jisung, but more than anything all he wanted to do was allow the younger to sleep in his arms as comfortably as possible. As soon as Minho rejoined the bed, Jisung had already moved to burrow his head into Minho's chest. If Minho could be even more endeared at the cuddly nature of Jisung, he was fully at the will of him now. 

He was a goner, but that wasn’t news to Minho when it came to his affection for the boy in his arms. Wrapping his arms around the younger's tiny waist he pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. 

“Goodnight Jisung” 

I’ll always protect you.

---

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

[birdsandspades]

I Was Never Good at Waiting (Sugawara X Reader) Chapter 5

- It was your last year in highschool, everything had been going smoothly until you got assigned the new teacher. Sugawara Koushi was handsome, maybe too handsome for his own good. Be he wasn't flirting with you right, teachers shouldn't do that....I guess we will see where this year goes.

Word Count - 3,093

----

You started off Wednesday pretty excited, the relationship that was blooming with Sugawara was enough alone to make you skip the entire way to school. 

“You're peppy today.” Hiroto smiled as you danced around him. 

“What's got you so chipper?” Yua was looking over you with concern. “Did something bite you last night? Are you going through changes? Is your new super power mood swings?” She lifted your arm, examining it for marks.

“I don’t know, I guess i’m just excited for class.” You glared, ripping your arm out of her hands.

“Yeah she's definitely caught something.” Hiroto laughed as Yua wiggled her eyebrows.

“It wouldn’t happen to be…” She leaned in close to you, hands resting on your shoulders. “for Yoshiki hmm?” She turned you towards the boy waiting by your classroom door.

He waved as you made eye contact before making his way towards you. “Hey, I went to buy apple juice this morning and an extra one fell out. I figured I would bring it to you!” His smile was soft, sweet even as he handed you the extra carton.

“Thank you.” You took the juice, turned it over in your hand before offering him a smile.

“Well I'm gonna go to class, but enjoy it!” He smiled at your friends, waving a goodbye before walking off down the hallway. 

You knew it was silly, Yoshiki was an absolute catch. He was a star athlete, incredibly handsome, smart, and funny. He had caught plenty of girls' interests, but just not yours.

Your eyes were instead fixed on the man sitting at the front of the classroom. His attention was turned to a small brown book in his hands. Reaching for the coffee mug beside him you watched as his lips molded to the hard ceramic, pulling away you noticed the residual shine leftover from the chapstick he had put on prior. He thumbed to the next page before gently sliding his reading glasses back up the bridge of his nose. 

Seeing him was enough to make your heart tremble. It was a crazy thought, that you liked your teacher, maybe even going as far as to call him your crush. It was wrong, you didn’t doubt that. You tried to push the thoughts away, you probably could have tried harder now that you thought about it. It had only been two day, two whole days with him in your life. It would have been easy to ignore those stupid feelings, to be friendly and go about the year. Soon enough you would graduate and you would never see him again. You could live with that, it would eventually have become a silly story to tell your friends.

“Remember Sugawara-sensei? Yeah I had a huge crush on him, how silly right?” They would laugh, you would laugh, it would end with that. 

It would have ended like that, but he had given you some semblance of hope last night.

Your mind burned with the feeling of his hand cupping your face, you wished you had leaned into the warmth of it while it lasted. It kept you up all night. The thoughts of every little insignificant thing he had done, the small words, the quick looks, the tiny details. Those alone were enough for you to at least explore the dynamics between you two further. 

“Good morning Sugawara-sensei.” You chirped as you made your way to his desk. You waited for him to peak up at you, those soft hazel eyes showing through his long lashes. 

“Good morning L/N-san, did you finish your homework?” He kept his eyes on his book as he flipped to the next page. 

Your classmates made their ways to their respected seats as the morning bells rang. You looked around in confusion as everyone quieted down, leaving you standing at the side of his desk. 

He handed you the roll call sheet and closed his book. “Take the attendance please.” His gaze set behind you as he made his way to the chalkboard to write down the morning meeting points. 

You ticked off the names of the present students before setting the papers on top of his closed book.“It’s on the desk sensei.” You lingered next to the desk, grasking at the opportunity to see his smile.

“Ok, go take your seat now.” He had turned around now, eyes glazing over you as he looked around the room. 

“Maybe he’s having a rough day.” You pondered as you took your seat. 

The class period continued the same, his usually vibrant outlook on life had faded for the day. 

You waited your turn for college counseling as he called up your classmates one at a time. You were usually the last to be called in these instances. You carried your father's english surname as opposed to the rest of your class who spelled their names in classic kanji, because of this you were always listed last. You watched his last student walk back to their desk and you knew your name was next. You gathered your materials and waited for your name to be called, instead he disappeared into his office leaving you without an ounce of his time. 

Soon the bell rang, and the next teacher walked into the classroom.“ He must have left out his office door, it must be a busy day for him.”  You grasped at reasons for the stark chance of attitude, anything to push down the slow aching building in your chest.

By the time he returned for your science period his attitude had changed. His bright and sunny demeanor shined though as he answered questions and wrote the day's notes on the board. You would have sworn you imagined the morning if he hadn’t avoided your eyes the entire class as well. 

Soon the day ended and classroom cleaning started. As the last students left for the day you made your way to his office door. You knocked lightly and waited for an invitation.

“Come in.” His voice was barely audible from the other side.

You turned the knob and stepped inside, closing the door slightly as you walked to his desk. “Hi sensei, how was your day?” You smiled, teetering on your heels.

Sugawara didn’t answer, instead he typed out something on his computer. His fingers angrily digging into the space bar as he worked.

 “Um, well we didn’t have time for my college counseling so I figured I would see if you were free now?” Your rocking stopped as his face dropped.

“I didn’t feel we needed it today. Did you apply for any scholarships last night like I suggested?” He again looked past you to the clock on the wall.

“No senpai, you had told me you would make me a list of ones to look into. So I want to wait for you to…” You chewed at your lip nervously, unsure why he was so upset with you.

His eyes flicked to you as his brow furrowed. “I think you're fully capable of looking for yourself.” He looked back to his computer, glaring at the screen. “It's time for you to go to practice, I don’t have time today to explain to your coach why you're late again.” He spat out the last word, his eyes focused on his hands.

You were taken aback by his brashness. The indifference was one thing, but to be so openly bitter was another. You left without another word, slamming his door behind you. You were on the verge of tears as you walked to practice. You didn’t have a reason to be so openly upset at him, he was nice now he wasn't. It was your own fault for getting so attached to him, someone you hardly knew. 

----

During the next two week his attitude only got worse. He was openly hostile with you in class, going as far as to ignore your questions entirely. If you persisted to ask him he would simply tell you to pay better attention to his teachings the first time. 

Tutoring lessons were just as disma. He would set you down in the classroom alone with your work while he remained in his office. At the end of the lessons you would simply hand in your extra work for him to grade and leave on your desk the following morning. 

Because of this you stopped showing up. What's the point of missing extra practice to do work by yourself, he wasn’t even answering your questions at this point. He didn’t even bother to talk to you about them in class. He clearly didn’t care one way or the other. Today was the third tutoring session you had chosen to skip, opting to take the extra time to practice with your team instead. 

You were halfway through practice when the gym door opened. The thick metal echoing around the gym as it shut.

“Sugawara, did you decide to come back to practice with us after all?” Irihata glanced at him before continuing the digging exercises. 

“No, I need to see F/N L/N.” His glare rested on you as he motioned for you to come over to him.

You gathered your bags and jogged over to him , shrugging at your confused team member. You stopped in front of him, tilting your head. “You need me sensei?” 

He placed a hand on your shoulder, tightening his grip as he walked you out of the gym and to the classroom. Once inside he slid the door shut and turned to face you, his soft features hardened as his eyes fell on yours. “Three days, you've wasted three days of my time having me wait for you to show up for your tutoring sessions. Why are you not showing up?” 

You met his glare, upset by his uncalled for attitude. “Because you're not helping me with any of my work sensei, I felt like it was a waste of both of our time.” You spat the honorific at him, right now he didn’t deserve your respect. 

“Do you not know how to communicate with me? Do you think I wanted to use my free time to tutor you in a subject I'm not even teaching you?” He threw his hands up, gritting his teeth. 

 You looked away, clenching your fists. You couldn’t hold his heated gaze any longer, the hot anger was slowly dissolving into something harder to control.

“Answer me L/N.” He was stern, like a parent reprimanding a child.

“I didn’t want to talk to you sensei! You ignore me everytime I do so what's the point?”Trying to find a release for whatever was bubbling up you dug your nails into your soft palm. 

“Are you a child? Did no one teach you to use your words?” Sugawara was now yelling, he couldn’t hold back his frustration any longer. 

“A child? You're the one who is acting like a child sensei! You were so nice when I met you, and…” You choked on a sob, fighting with words you wanted to say. “and, in the nurse's office…” You couldn’t finish the statement. “But now you're so rude! You ignore me all day, you won’t help me with my classwork, you treat me like i'm stupid in front of the class when I ask a question. If anyone is acting like a child it's you!” Everything boiled over as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. “What was the point if you were just going to lead me on like that?” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper, stuck deep in your throat.

You gathered your belongings and left, you had nothing left to say. Your anger was spent, you felt stupid and irrational for even indulging in your feelings for him. He was right, you were childish. Only a kid would get a crush on their teacher.

You slammed the door behind you, walking down the empty hallway. 

He had wanted to go after you, explain to you why he had to act the way he did. He wanted to tell you how he felt, how he had been interested in you for so long. But it was no longer his place.

When he had seen you at the coffee shop months ago, he was taken aback. You were perfect. His friends had urged him to ask for your number, it was after all the sixth time he had dragged them to the shop that summer just so he could see you again.

He had at one point built up enough courage to talk to you. His intentions set on asking you on a date. But when he made his way to the counter and he saw your smile, directed only at him for the first time. He froze, you were so close to him, yet you felt miles apart. He knew words could bridge the gap.

 “Can I have a napkin?” How stupid, he had his chance and that's what he said. 

He went back a few more times, hoping to pluck up that same courage. He had even written out his name and number on a piece of paper beforehand. But you didn’t come back. 

Imagine his surprise to see you sitting in his class on his first day of school. 

“A fucking high school student, she's a fucking high school student?” It could have been the worst day of his life, but when he saw that smile again. Well he knew he was screwed, absolutely whipped for you. 

He could wait it out until you graduated, it was only a school year after all. But you were so sweet to him, the chemistry just happened. He had given up on the hope of waiting that day in the nurse's office. 

You were so small and fragile, crying over a nosebleed. He couldn't help himself, he just had to touch you, to comfort you, so he did. Your face fit so perfectly into his palm, he wished he could  have held you longer, but it was wrong and he knew it. Oikawa only confirmed that feeling. 

What would everyone think, a student dating her teacher. The ridicule would go on well into your adulthood, and he didn’t want to cause that kind of pain for you.  

So he tried to ignore you, and the feelings. He knew how hard it was going to be. All it would take was one look and he knew he would crumble. But this, this wasn’t what he expected. 

Today, today was the worst day of his life, he had made you cry. Not in a silly way, the look on your face was proof enough that those tears were different. The nurse’s office tears were soft, gentle, leaving your eyes puffy. But these were harsh. Leaving hot, red trails down your cheeks as they left your eyes. He had hurt you.

----

It was hard to get out of bed the next day for the both of you. 

You woke up with swollen eyes and a throbbing headache. You contemplated skipping school all together, but what would you tell Yua. Hiroto wouldn’t pry, it wasn’t in his nature. But Yua, she would kick down your door if you didn’t show up, she had done it once before. 

You walked in as the bell rang, avoiding Sugawara’s sullen eyes. 

He was a clean and proper gentleman. He prided himself in his well kept appearance, but today, well he was a wreck. His eyes were dark and sunken in, his usual suit switched for much more comfortable clothing. His appearance seemed rushed, as if he had decided last minute to get ready (which he had, but the school couldn’t find him a substitute). 

When the bell rang you sondered up to the front of the class and picked up the attendance, avoiding his frame as you turned around. It didn’t matter, he couldn’t bring himself to look up at you even if he tried. 

You kept your distance from each other throughout the day, and when you did interact it was brief and to the point. 

Your friends were concerned but didn’t pry, instead they opted to show you silent love and affection. Yua and Hiroto had only seen you like this once. You had confessed to a boy during sixth year , but he had told you how he was looking for a prettier girl. It had broken your heart, the lasting pain ruining your self esteem well into your second year. They knew you would talk about it when you were ready, you just needed time.

Sugawara on the other hand only got teasing remarks from his coworkers. They were only interested in the details regarding the “crazy” night he had had, laughing about how he could have hid it better. Asking him for advice on where to find a girl for themselves. 

The day progressed on and before long the final bell rang and he found himself inside his office grading papers. A soft knock pulled him from his thoughts. “Come in.” He busied himself as the door opened. 

“Sensei, can you open the hallway closet, I need to put up the brooms...” You stood in the doorway, not wanting to fully enter the room.

His eyes rapidly met your own as he perked up at your voice. His heart sank again as he watched you back away from the door.

You held his gaze, nervously playing with the frayed threading of your skirt.“Sensei?”You questioned again a little louder causing him to stand up suddenly. 

He grabbed the closet keys and followed you out of the office.“Did everyone already leave?” He asked as you gathered the brooms. He reached out a hand to help you, retracting it as you gripped onto the handles tightly.

“Yes sensei.” You were walking briskly, causing him to rush to keep up with your pace. 

He unlocked the door, opening it for you as you walked in to put the brooms up. He watched you exit again, walking past him with the same hurried pace.

He followed you back to the room, watching you pack up your belongings before heading for the door.“ F/N…” He stopped you, opening his mouth slightly.

You turned around with your hand on the door, waiting.

The words he needed were lost. He searched your eyes for the right response, he needed something to grasp at.

You gave him a stiff smile before sliding the door open. You walked out, closing the door behind you. He took too long.

----

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

----

[yourmomswallet]

Kabe-don Kiryu

I know this didn’t take place until Yakuza 6, but just suspend your disbelief for a while. I thought this was cute! We all need a cuddle with Kiryu. Also, this is set a while after reader and Kiryu are together.

“Taru-chan?” She steps back, and then further back, eyes wide with confusion while scanning the man. Her bags in her hands threatened to fall off her fingers, unknowingly collecting rainwater.

“Were you hoping for someone else, Arii-chan?”

“B-But, I thought you were leaving for college.” The young girl’s eyes darted to the man’s wet, smiling face, scared to look away in fear of him being a mirage.

“Ah, you should know better. I could never leave without my only true love,” he scolds her playfully, a hand resting gently on her shoulder, thumb massaging her skin through her now translucent shirt.

“Oh, you little- You should be thousands of kilometers away from here by now. I can’t believe you would trick me like this. I’ve loved you for years and then you tell me you’re leaving. I spent days and days arguing with myself about my feelings about you. I tried to convince myself this would be good for me, but y-you! You just... won’t leave!” Bags follow the hands that push Taruho’s chest.

His smile slides down his face with raindrops, eyebrows furrowed. He knows she won’t listen to him in this state. He has to do something quick, or she’ll be gone, out of his life before he can even finish blinking.

SLAM!

Taruho’s left arm forces its way next to Arii’s head, stopping her yelling at him. She blushes when he leans towards her left ear, warm words contrasting the cold water on her skin.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through, but I’m here now. I can’t promise I can fix the past, but I know I have what it takes to stay in your future. I-If you let me…”

He backs up enough to see her face, not red anymore, but eyes filled with tears.

“Now, don’t tell me you’re crying over me. You were just angry!”

“S-Shut up! I-It… It’s just the rain!” Her words are betrayed by the tight embrace she pulls her childhood love into, bags falling onto the ground. Her hands held onto her arms to tighten around his torso, afraid he’d drip down the storm drain with the rain.

Taruho’s surprise morphs into gaiety, and he returns her hug by grasping her tightly in his arms.

“Hmmm. I love you, too, my Arii-chan.”

‘Oh Junta, you kabe-don prince, you,’ you think to yourself while sighing.

The little stuffed cat in your arms is being strangled with your arms, putting him into a headlock. Your uncontrollable smile is hidden in the fairly large stuffed animal. Daryl was a gift from one of your many dates with Kiryu. Just thinking about the handsome man made you warm inside. You could never get enough sappy, sticky romance in your life. A small binge of sappy, romantic dramas on a work night was just what you needed to soothe your after work stress. Happy endings and the perfect one. Ah, true love.

RING RING

And that was yours on the phone.

You situate Daryl on the couch and turn down the television. Shuffling over to the phone was quite the challenge, what with the numerous piles of blankets on your body. You had on a thin shirt that you received from work and pajama shorts. The floor was cold on your bare feet, making you wish you had bought tatami mats. Curse your small budget at the time.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.” His voice is honey, dripping out of the phone to your ear. That could only be one person. Giggling, you answer back.

“Of course it is. How silly of me to not know. What’s up?” You tuck the phone in between your head and shoulder while pulling the blankets around you tighter. You weren’t sure if it was the floor or Kiryu giving you the chills.

“I just wanted to see if you were busy right now. And if I could… come over?”

“Well, if you want to watch some cheesy romantic dramas, come swing by. Just make sure to bring some tissues. I can’t share mine.” You joke around with him, hearing his deep chuckle that never fails to warm your body up. Your fingers end up wrapped in the phone cord, twirling as you smile because of him.

“That sounds fine with me. Just give me a few minutes to get over there. Make sure there are enough blankets for me.”

“Can’t promise anything. Worst case scenario, you’ll have to cuddle up with me. I don’t know how you’ll ever cope with that.” You roll your eyes but can already feel his warm body against yours.

“I’ve done it before. I’m not afraid to do it again.”

“Just get down here so I can cuddle, Ladykiller.”

“Okay. See you then.” You can hear the smile in his voice. You’re sure he could hear yours, too.

You hang up and shuffle to the kitchen after discarding your mountain of blankets on the small sofa that somehow fit both you and the large man at the same time. Taking your time traversing the small space to your kitchen, you reminisce about the multiple dates you’ve gone on with the intimidating man. Cat cafes, arcade raids, and simple homemade dinners, courtesy of yourself. It all made your relationship grow stronger in the time you knew him. Of course, you knew you both were away from each other most of the time because of your jobs, but what could you say? Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

But at the same time, not just the heart. Your need for him grew with the amount of time you spent with and without him. His warm hands always found their way on some part of your body. You never could resist laying your head upon his shoulder or lap. Never too much in public, but when alone, you both couldn’t keep your hands off each other. Physical contact was something you found he always wanted from you. It wasn’t your place to ask about his past, but it was as if he was deprived of reassurance through hand holding and hugs. It made no sense to you, your previous relationships never felt as strong as this one. Perhaps there was a red string between you two, constantly pulling you tighter and tighter together.

By the time you snapped out of your thoughts, the water was boiling over on the small stove. Quickly, you remove the pot to empty the water into the two prepared cups with tea and sugar inside. It wouldn’t be long until he would be at your door. You know Kiryu naturally walks with a long stride, making keeping up with him a small struggle. But it did help when you wanted him over right then and there. He never complained when you asked him to visit for a while after work, even if he was tired. His body felt lighter and more alive when he was in your presence.

You set the cups down onto the bright coasters on the side table. The television catches your eye, a new drama popping up on the screen. A few solid knocks pull you out of the movie’s intro.

Reaching the door, your toes lift your body up to look through the peephole and you see Kiryu looking around, waiting patiently for you to answer the door. Again with the white and orange ensemble. You feel like a teenager again, feet unable to stop moving and hands fidgeting with the door’s lock and knob so as to let him in as quickly as possible.

Kiryu’s head turns at the noise you’re making and he sees expectant eyes looking up at him. You’re balancing on your toes to try to kiss his cheek. He leans down to make your lips meet his face. You laugh with him and open the door a bit more.

“Come on! Get inside! We have true love to find.”

“Haven’t I already found it?”

He knows just how to make you melt.

A small blush appears on your cheeks, making you hurry to usher him inside the door so he can’t have a chance to see your face clearly. He toes his shoes off while watching you lock the door. Taking his suit jacket off, he hangs it on one of the wooden wall hooks. He doesn’t get to comment on your face as your feet sound off that you’re on the way to the kitchen.

Snacks are essential.

“Please, make yourself at home. I forgot to get snacks!”

He looks around the small living space to find your many blankets in a pile on the couch. He never knew why it was so cold in your apartment, but he knew you liked the excuse to always need to cuddle up to him constantly. He didn’t mind, he welcomed you when you reached out for him.

Kiryu sits on the small couch and takes one of the thicker blankets to cover up with. He has no idea what you’ve planned for him, but he feels slightly bad for coming at such short notice. Little did he know, you didn’t mind; in fact, you wish he came over more often. Just having him in your apartment made you feel giddy and fluttery inside. After all these months together, you still weren’t able to get rid of them.

You walk over to the couch and sit the small bag of popcorn on his lap, as well as the remote. You pick up some of the blankets, spread them, and sit down with them on top of your body. Kiryu ends up with your head on his shoulder, his hand reaching down to grab some popcorn.

“Toss one to me!” You open your mouth as wide as possible to ensure popcorn entrance. He picks out a puff. He doesn’t throw it at your open mouth but places it in. You look at him with a “seriously?” look. You could totally catch one.

“What movie did you pick?” He takes another piece of popcorn to eat and one for you, too.

“The one that just popped up looks alright. I haven’t seen it before,” you say between crunches.

“Then this will be a first for both of us.”

The drama ends up keeping you up later than you would have liked. It was quite the tear-jerker. You had your own giant tissue with you, decorated in an orange dress shirt. Kiryu finally wrapped his arm around your burrito like body, blankets and all. Shuffling in your blanket, you wiggle your arms out and readjust to be able to hug his torso.

“It’s getting late, y’know? Do you wanna maybe… stay over?”

He puts his hand on his chin, stroking the smooth skin.

“Hmmmm… I’ll have to think about it.”

Your hand finds his stomach and slaps him lightly.

“You’re an ass.”

“I’m your ass, right?”

“Hmmm... I'll have to think about it.” You mock his voice and hand movements from before.

He laughs and pulls you into his lap. You wiggle about to stand up. As you shake the blankets off your body, you reach to Kiryu and grab his hands. Whether he was being an even bigger ass or you needed to work out a bit more, you weren’t able to lift him off of the couch.

“Come on, get up.” You struggle to speak while trying to pull him up. He seems amused with the situation, a small smile on his face and eyes lighting up at your actions.

Just one tug is all it takes for you to topple upon him. He slips his arms around you as you let out an “oof” sound. You lay there together for a while, listening to each other breathe.

Looking at the clock, you see it’s past 11.

“Okay, now we really have to get up. Bedtime, big guy!”

You both start to fold the blankets up, laying them on the couch in a messy pile. You grab the two mugs of cold, untouched tea and ask him to take the bag of popcorn to the kitchen with you.

Setting the cups on the counter, you wonder if you should pour them out or warm them up later. You’re brought out of your thoughts as two warm arms wrap around your abdomen. Kiryu’s head finds yours to rest upon and you lean back into him, hands finding his. You look up at him to see him smiling at you, eyes shining with adoration.

“My little Ladykiller-chan!” You spin around in his arms, latching onto him. Your face squished into his chest.

‘What firm boobies!’ You blush a little at the thought of his bare chest and giggle.

“I can’t help but be reminded of someone else when you say that...” he trails off and looks into the distance.

You jerk your head away from his chest, but his arms kept you from completely detaching your body from his.

“I hope no one is calling you Ladykiller, too! Otherwise, I’d have to beat them up.”

“Sure you would.”

“Are you saying I’m not strong? Do you wanna go?” Kiryu releases you from his hold as you start to shuffle and bounce around as if you were in a boxing ring, fists in front of your face.

You try to look tough but the ridiculousness of your motions and the look on Kiryu’s face makes you break character. You carry on with your motions and start to jab your fists out towards his body, feet shuffling to move you around his body. Kiryu’s arms raise in a sign of surrender. Unbeknownst to you, he’s slowing walking towards you to back you up into the wall as you carry on with your antics.

“Who’s the tough one now, huh Ladykiller? Hmmm?”

SLAM

Your back hits the wall, and you’re startled by Kiryu smacking his left hand on the wall next to your head. Your forearms come up to cover your face. When you peek through them, you see mischievous eyes and a smirk staring back at you.

‘Oh, shit. I can’t not fuck him!’ You blush comes back ten times worse. Sign you up as scared and horny.

“Nothing to say? I’m surprised.” His right hand cups your cheek, leading you to look at him.

Kiryu and his stupid handsome sparkling grin.

“I- I didn’t- urgh... you can’t-” Your words are cut off by you stuffing your head in his chest, arms holding onto him tight.

“Come on, let’s get to bed. We don’t have to fall asleep just yet.”

[fordarkisthesuede]

The Tolls of Justice - Chapter 5

It's morning brunchtime in Atlanta, and I'm servin' up a big ol’ stack of Johnny cakes with a juice reduction on the side. B)

IMPORTANT SPOILER TAGS: past mention of abuse, mental illness, gun violence, bonding over trauma

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Read on AO3 or continue below:

[Chapter 5:  The Wheel Still Turns on the Upturned Chariot]

John was quite used to keeping an eye and an ear out for everything. Arkham had its share of nasty surprises in all its forms, and it paid to be well-prepared for anyone rounding the corner or prying their eyes into what they shouldn’t see.

It took him one week to learn St. Dymphna’s camera patterns. Two to learn the normal guard rotation. One-and-a-half to learn the layout.

He was not used to the impromptu schedules they seemed to make for him, however. It was like his doctor saw some psychologist’s note about how repeated structured tasks was supposed to help affirm that the patient’s reality was indeed everyone else’s reality, scratched it out with pen, tore it out of the book, and tossed it out of the window straight into the industrial-size shredder while they knocked back a beer.

Yesterday was supposed to be the day. Instead he was suddenly forced to see - more like wait around for - his Parole Officer and assigned social worker. Apparently he could not get away with saying he was adjusting fine - both of them grilled him so much after the hour of waiting a piece that he felt like he’d been seared to a fine medium-rare.

As much as it infuriated him and made him want to just grab them both by the collars to make it very clear he was ‘okay’, he’d barely hung on. He’d had to clench his toes as much as possible and try to channel Bruce’s enviable ability to keep calm under pressure as he actively stopped himself from clenching his teeth or saying something he’d regret. He knew - knew - a lifetime in Arkham and a small obituary list on his record would always make people question his intentions and sanity, but it didn’t make them any less annoying, and it didn’t do that...other part of him any favors.

It might have been tamer now, but it was still there, and with every new tightly-wound ball of aggravation it was fed he could feel it start to pace. It seemed to take more and more calm-time to get it to stop lately… Heck, he could feel it now, still but almost pressed against the inside of its cage like it was waiting for something to come close enough.

But he would have to deal with it later. Today was the day. He’d had to adjust his schedule, had to account for a few extra things, but here, in the early evening before the sun completely set and Officer Kane was busy doing his ‘personal call’ to the on-duty nurse downstairs, John could make his move.

He watched the camera in the hall as he counted by tapping his fingers against his thigh. It would turn the other way - indicated by the slight shift in the lens’ focus if he could see it - in twenty seconds. He was wedged tight in the corner underneath it, having slid there and made a show of opening and closing the door so it looked like someone had gone inside.

The felt the familiar anxious thrill in his legs and sides of his head, just like when he was sneaking around Arkham. It was brighter in St. Dymphna, and had less places to hide, but at least if he got caught John wouldn’t be thrown in the hole.

Of course, they could throw him back. They could lock him up and refuse to house him again later. They could-

John shook his head. He didn’t have time to be paranoid.  

This was the time for action! For suspense! For catchy secret agent music!

He’d tapped to twenty, and the Secret Agent Man theme started to cycle in his head; he side-stepped carefully against the wall, just to make sure the camera couldn’t see him for the few steps it took to be out of the watchful eye’s range.

He walked on the sides of his feet rather than his heels, reducing the inevitable noise on the not-that-clean tile floor, and made for his target - the door halfway down the hall with the plate that read Officer Hank Kane, Parole.

John didn’t have long. Thankfully his office didn’t need any RFID card or fingerprint or anything like the more dangerous rooms in the place. Just a plain, old-fashioned lock.

And John had an old-fashioned method for unlocking.

Secret - aaagent maan, Secret - aaagent maan! He hummed to himself, sliding the lost-and-found credit card he’d been carrying around for a while into the gap between the door and the frame, and carefully angling it to wedge in-between the lock mechanism and begin to pry, bending the card out of shape. They’ve given you a number, he continued, wiggling the card’s edge into what should be the right angle and pushing, And taken away your naaame!

He pushed hard, and he twisted the knob at the same time as his finished the chorus - click.

John ducked inside the dim office and almost slammed the door shut just in time. The camera switched positions every thirty seconds - two more and he’d have to walk away like he wasn’t trying to break into the place and wait some more.

The place was just like it was yesterday, and couple have almost doubled as the Arkham Warden’s private office:  a couple of slightly-peeling filing cabinets that held useless documents John didn’t need; a bookcase with a couple of ‘law’ books and far too much football paraphernalia for the Gotham Rogues alongside several pictures of the guy’s wife and kids; a pair of wooden chairs that John swore were deliberately designed to be uncomfortable; and a boring desk with the same thin-client PC and sleek monitor as everyone else had, and yet two more family pictures, one of which had a King Charles spaniel John wanted to kidnap on principle of it being way too cute.

The tune kept playing in the background of his thoughts as he took a seat in the much-more-comfortable office chair. He made sure not to touch the arms.

Password-locked. Just as he’d thought.

John had watched very carefully as Hank typed away yesterday. It was something clearly easy for the guy to remember, because unlike some of the doctors and other staff, he didn’t dawdle over the keys or tap them lightly as they waited for their hippocampus’ reflex to kick in. He’d done the same motions several times during his last visit, which likely meant he used the same password for everything. (Dr. Song seemed to use various complex ones, if her odd typing methods were anything to go by.)

Which was good news for John, because he wasn’t sure what the password was.

He had some good guesses. It was something easy to remember, so something somewhat personal with a series of numbers at the end…so an anniversary of something was pretty likely.

John had remembered the areas of the keyboard Hank had used:   somewhere between one and four and eight and the dash sign on the top row; he’d had to use one finger to hold down the shift key for letter on the upper left, clearly not excelling at touch-typing; he was sure he hadn’t used the space or bottom row of letters, too. He had three tries to get it right before the account would get locked.

He took a moment to think.

Two distinct things in the guy’s otherwise very boring life was his family and football.

John knew the tricks to get into people’s protected FriendBook pages; he could try the anniversary of his marriage or birth of his kids, saved in a note on his phone.

Or he could look up the year the Gotham Rogues won last; it was before his time, he knew, because people wouldn’t stop hoping they’d go all the way every damn year.

Orrrr…

John flipped the keyboard over halfway with his palms. No sticky note there, unfortunately. He supposed he could poke around the desk a little more on the off-chance the guy had left it lying around carelessly like Bruce did with cash, but he was on limited time. He could risk looking and get his fingerprints all over the place, but why bother when he could just try to look it up?

Hm. Family, football, family, football…

John eyed the desk. The picture of the dog might as well have been taken by a professional photographer – it was all alone, as happy as could be, beaming up at the camera in a showy grassy yard with the perfect angle. The family portrait was a typical family photo with all the taste of Wonder Bread.

It was probably the dog, plus either the year it was adopted or the current one.

John mapped it out mentally on the keyboard. Woofles2019 seemed to fit pretty well with the pattern he remembered. It was worth a shot.

He put it in, waiting for the little wheel to finish spinning and give the ‘incorrect password’ message.

There was a soft da-ding, and John was looking right at the same outline of St. Dymphna holding the white lily to her chest that functioned as the clinic’s logo.

“Sheesh, why not just use password while you’re at it?” He snorted to himself.

John didn’t have too much time. He continued humming his little theme to himself to help count off.

He recognized the same enormous register of criminals that Bruce had access to back at the Batcave just sitting on the desktop. John was pretty sure Ian ‘Nito’ had done time for something, likely a drug habit if he’d left the facility after only a week.

At least it was a web-based registry rather than a whole program, so John could easily just delete the history there afterwards as long as he had the time. Well, if it would load fast enough…

John tapped his fingers on the mouse button gently, still keeping the rhythm as the page took it’s time to load. He wondered if Bruce ever had to deal with dumb inconveniences like this before he’d got the super-computer installed. There seemed be a few dozen guys (and non-guys, possibly) named Ian. A quick sort by crime, and the more timely Ian arrested that jumped out to John was Ian Coggs.

There was no ‘Ian Nito’ on file, but ‘Ian Coggs’ made John think of the word in-cog-nito.

It made John chuckle to himself. It was definitely the sort of thing John would do, if he were giving an alias with his own name. Well, if he could make a decent play on ‘John’ anyway. And he had decent makeup to cover his white-and-green tones.

The arrest photo taken several months ago was definitely the ‘Mr. Nito’ that John had seen, only the boring t-shirt Ian was wearing was covering up the tattoos more.

Ian Coggs, arrested for driving under the influence and possession of heroin. Notes included he had traces in his car indicating he might have had the intent to sell, but the charge didn’t stick, as there was no mass quantities in Ian’s car or apartment. He seemed to have served a short sentence and was ordered to check into a clinic.

Hmm… John took a picture of the screen with his phone, making sure to capture the last known address as clearly as possible.

John thought for a second – he could look up Ian’s patient file, too, now that he knew Ian’s full name. It was probably somewhere in some kind of share-drive.

The screen flickered, and a pop up informed him that the operating system was not licensed and please license it, would you? John rolled his eyes – a common issue with those sorts of old OS sitting on the network’s virtual machines. It was wonder they didn’t upgrade yet. The thing was practically a dinosaur.

He ignored it and did a quick search in the X-drive-marks-the-spot had Ian Coggs’ old data just sitting in a folder with his name on it. No handy doctor notes, of course, but there was a discharge form.

John skimmed it, interrupting his little background-tune with an intrigued hum. “Looks like Ian was moving to Bludhaven…”

He’d have to look up the new address later…

John was running out of time. He very quickly wiped away the last few bits of internet history on Hank’s machine and went back towards the door, counting the last couple of beats on his thigh. Three, two…

On one, John again became the ghost of Arkham’s hallways, silent and swift, leaving his tampering unnoticed as he closed the door behind him as softly as can be. Another successful heist on his mental tally; Arkham three, John…

He found himself stopping.

I’m not at Arkham anymore, he thought to himself. He blinked, staring straight down the hall.

Right. Right, it just…looked like the repainted Arkham, sometimes. Sneaking around like this just reminded him of it. That was all.

He resumed walking, clenching his hands and releasing them. He wished he had something else to touch for a bit. Just to make sure.

He reached the stairwell. He needed to get to the library on the second floor. It was open until lights-out at eleven and it was the best place he could get some privacy and a decent phone signal.

It was a short walk to the small room that smelt of overly stale cigarettes and books, with a hint of wood-polish underneath.

St. Dymphna wasn’t new. Arkham wasn’t either, not by a longshot, but at least it had a sizable selection in comparison, even if the tall metal bookcases were all kinds of dangerous. St. Dymphna had short cases, all in soft wood so no one would hurt themselves, all in a room about the size of Bruce’s master-bed-and-bath, half of which was occupied by un-squeaky tables and hushed conversations.

He casually weaseled his way towards the little stacks, pretending he belonged there as much as anyone else, and had a peek at his phone.

Four full bars – the best signal he could get.

Too bad his battery was at twelve percent.

John frowned down at the device, half wanting to break it on principle of it not behaving. He’d charged it just yesterday!

“Old fashioned way it is,” he muttered to himself.

Thankfully the reference section was always deserted. John knelt down and skimmed over the few little books of Gotham history – including one on crime statistics that probably should not be accessible to patients – and snatched the guide-to-the-state map book, feeling the weight and laminated paper cover in his hands.

John thumbed through the soft pages by flicking them like a deck of cards, and stopped right at Gotham.

He’d seen this same map before, years ago, when he was a very bored Arkham newbie who still didn’t know what Gotham was. It was a shiny thing, at the time, a beacon of freedom and mystery, a break from the madness and rust and rot of Arkham. It didn’t take long into cycling through the numerous news segments and headlines for John to realize it was a city with a criminal underbelly so obese that it was a wonder anyone could still be considered an honest citizen. It was fascinating, really, to go back as far as possible and learn just who and what had led to the then-current state of things. The power imbalances and shuffles of gangs, the creative ways people wanted to hurt each other, the things people did just to survive another day… He had hours of fun picking apart the reasoning and motives and predicting outcomes. It was a good thing to delve into when he was stuck without entertainment, which was often on his bad days.

John pulled out his phone and opened the picture he’d taken of Ian’s arrest entry:  his old place was at 511 N. Blade Street, Apt. 1005.

He traced his finger around, and North Blade Street was deep in what everyone referred to as “the Cauldron”, and naturally above South Blade Street. What highly appropriate name for roads; the Cauldron was a hotspot for the more basic criminal activities and lower gangs.

Kind of far to travel to get to the humble area of the Eastern Docks, but that was only if he still lived there. He probably did, if he was hanging around town, even if it was just temporarily. He wouldn’t put it past him to just muscle his way back in, either.

He flipped to the Bludhaven page. Ian supposedly moved to 900 Wanda Way.

Wanda Way was tucked into a tiny corner, off another road, but… There was no nine-hundred address. Wanda Way had addresses in the four-hundreds.

A four and a nine were easy to misinterpret if not written clearly, and the forms were filled out by hand and stamped by an authority figure before being scanned-and-typed in… The only question was, was it done on purpose?

Wanda Way sounded too much like “wander away”, and clearly the guy liked puns on his name, so John had the feeling he’d chosen whatever place was there just to throw everyone off.

The guy was clearly smarter than he looked…

John hummed. Now he just had to get someone to look at Ian’s old place and shake him down.

“Hey, clown,” someone said quietly, poking him in the back of the head.

John felt a surge of annoyance quick-boil his blood. Couldn’t they see he was busy? He wanted to throw the map book at the offender and start teaching them some manners.

But he grit his teeth and clenched the map a little too hard instead, blinking hard once to help push the urge away. It was still there, but he couldn’t let it out. “What?” He growled, turning around.

Mickey stood there, somewhat bewildered by…well, maybe he was actually seeing the roiling violent urge in John’s eyes. Mickey almost looked sheepish, suddenly, drawing the offending hand he’d poked John’s head with to tuck under his arms lying on the shelf. “Just tryin’ to get your attention,” he muttered, staring at him somewhat innocently with his chestnut brown eyes.

John had softened somewhat, seeing as it was only Mickey and not some new asshole trying to pick a fight. “You could always try saying my name, next time, Mick’.”

“I tried twice. You didn’t answer.”

“Third time’s the charm,” John shrugged with a little titter. “Sorry,” he added, not feeling it at all, “I just tend to get absorbed in things. What ‘cha need from little ol’ me, Mick’?”

“Just wanted to know what you were doing,” he mumbled, not looking at him.

What a terrible liar. He probably got caught with his hand in the cookie jar somewhere and wanted escape. “Miiick’, what did you dooo?” He teased, putting a hand on his hip like he was a disappointed parent.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Mm-hm. Let me guess – you said something a little too bold to someone and now they’re trying to find you.”

Mickey might as well have been sweating bullets as he turned his head to look around. “Maybe.”

John chuckled. “Who did you piss off? ‘Firecracker’ Fred? Abdul? Abdul looks like he could fight well… Ooh, was it Harper?”

“No, none o’ them.” Mickey turned back, glancing back at the front door, and suddenly ducked to the ground like he’d been shot. John heard him crawling on the floor around the case, and John could barely contain his curiosity, so he poked his head up above the shelf to see who had entered.

It was another one of the handful of women staying at the place, scanning the room with a hoity-toity sort of anger. Karen McCarthy - addicted to miscellaneous pills, wine, and pretending she was better than everyone else. John had all of two interactions with her, and disliked both of them.

“Don’t let her see me,” Mickey pleaded from the floor. John sank back down and tried to read Mickey’s face. Why on Earth was he scared of a woman less than half his weight class? Mickey grabbed onto his arm, begging like his life was on the line.

John knew that look. He’d seen it for years in Arkham - Mickey was scared out of his mind. “What did you do?” John whispered. Mickey was friendly with Devi, and seemed to keep his hands to himself. But that didn’t mean he was innocent.

“I just said that her art needed work,” he answered, his voice starting to waver. “She just…flipped out.” Mickey breathing awkwardly. “She just started yellin’, and…” His naturally tanned skin was paling more, shaken by the thought of it. “Don’t tell her I’m here. Please. ”

John didn’t have to. Hell, he could fake it and just let Karen look around all day long as Mickey found new, more entertaining places to hide.

But Mickey was clearly rattled. He hated loud noises and seemed to put up a tough-guy front with everyone. The fact that he was so scared of a middle-aged woman yelling at him that he ran away to hide suggested he might have a trauma surrounding such a thing.

If their situations were reversed, there wouldn’t be any promise of an eventual life with Bruce that would hold John back if Mickey let him be forced to confront his own traumatic experiences again.

Besides, saving him was the hero thing to do. And John could never be Bruce – not exactly – but somehow John was his hero, and who was he to let Bruce down?

“Go a few rows down and duck close to the stack,” John advised quietly. “I’ll take care of it.”

Mickey looked a little more confident as he gave a stiff nod and snuck away.

John put the map book back casually and stood, stretching his arms and craning his back like he’d been there for a while. Making himself as obvious as possible.

Sure as Batman stalked the night, John only had to turn like he was going to leave when he found Karen in his personal space, her beady eyes narrowed in determined dislike. “Where’s Mickey?” She asked, her French-tipped index finger pointing at his chin. “You know where he is?”

“Y’know, the first question really drove the point home, Karen. There’s no need to ask twice.”

Karen was trying to stand tall. Sort of hard, since she was almost two whole heads shorter than him. “Don’t get smart with me, John. Have you seen him or not?”

John gave a dramatic laugh, like he actually found the idea funny. (It helped that she was trying so hard to be fierce when John had faced the scariest people imaginable on a nearly daily basis.) It seemed to get her attention; her shrewd eyes were watching him carefully and she looked a little confused. “In here? You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I be?” She asked haughtily, clearly thinking he was insulting her.

“The guy can barely read a street sign! He’s so macho-illiterate I doubt he knows what a library even is,” John lied, thinking back to one of the more feral inhabitants at Arkham. Karen didn’t have to know he was talking about a different guy. “He’s probably hiding out in the men’s room by the fitness joing. It’s closer to home and he’ll think you won’t have the nerve to go in there.”

Karen clicked her tongue and looked even fiercer. “Oh, I won’t have to go in to give him a piece of my mind…”

Not that you have much to work with, John thought with all the bitterness he was brewing away inside.

“Thanks,” she said dismissively as she stormed away on her pointless little mission.

“No problem,” John said with a cheerful little wave, “you stupid jerk,” he added quietly, unable to hold it in. He didn’t care if she heard or not, but they were in a library, and raising his voice any more than he already did would be rude.

Once the offending lady was gone, John strolled over to Mickey’s hiding place, finding him with his arms around his knees. “She’s gone,” he said simply. Mickey was not standing to leave. He was staring at the shelves across from him with the same sort of vacant stare that John instantly recognized as dissociative. It wouldn’t be good to just leave him there. He knelt down and waved his hand in front of his eyes. “You home in there?”

“Huh?” Mickey came back to reality. “Sorry. I…” He clammed up for a moment. “I’m not good with women.”

“Ha! You and me both, Mick’,” John joked, nudging him slightly. “You get along with Devi just fine, though.”

“She’s different,” he muttered. “She’s not like…that.”

Talk about vague. Still, if John had any guess he’d bet on… “Abusive?”

Mickey drew in on himself a little. “Yeah. She’s calm. Doesn’t yell. Doesn’t belittle anyone. Doesn’t laugh at people for nothin’.”

Ah. That explained a few things. “Sheesh, I’m two out of three, there. It’s a wonder you talk to me.”

Mickey stared at him firmly. “You’re different, too,” he stated. “And you’ve been there.”

John was perplexed, for once. He hadn’t mentioned anything of his relationship with Harley to anyone, much less in a place Mickey could’ve heard.

“I keep thinkin’ I’ll wake up and be back there,” he explained, running a hand through his short crew-cut and staring at his worn tennis shoes. “In that house. Like nothing changed…”

Ohh, that’s what he’d meant when he said he ‘got’ why John didn’t want to go back to Arkham. Mickey had lived in an abusive place he was forced to call home for a long time.

John wasn’t going to pry further. He didn’t need to. Mickey had finally cracked open like the other eggs at Arkham, and John could see the yolk swimming in its translucent goo.

Mickey was clearly thinking about that trauma now, seeing as how it was at the forefront of everything. It’s wouldn’t be very good of John to leave him on his own now, even if Karen didn’t come back.

But could he risk letting Mickey in on the big mystery? Mickey wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but he paid attention enough. A different point of view wouldn’t hurt, either.

“Well sitting there thinking about it all night’s not going to do you any favors,” John said with a nudge on his shoulder. “Trust me, every doc’ I’ve ever had tells me that! Ha ha!” Dial it back; that was too light-hearted. “I know something that will get your mind off it - always works for me, anyway: puzzles. And I’ve got one upstairs I could use some help on.”

“…okay.” Mickey stood by himself, clearly intent on leaving now. “I’ll get Devi, too.”

“The more, the merrier,” John shrugged. “Don’t wait up, I’ve got to make a call first.”

Mickey blinked, apparently examining him for any trace of a lie, and seemed satisfied. “Thanks, John.”

Finally, some decent recognition. “You’re welcome.”

Mickey stuck his hands in his hoodie’s pockets and walked away without another word or gesture that would indicate he had anything else to say.

So John did what he came there to do:  he pretended to be looking for something in the back rows until he seemed settled on something, and sank to the floor with his phone out.

He had to share his findings with Bruce. He couldn’t keep the knowledge of Ian Coggs’ name to himself for another day – he needed more information, but Bruce needed it even more, and surely he’d be ever-so-grateful that John had tossed a nice bundle of intel’ his way that Bruce would heap some praise onto him in beautiful voice of his.

John stared at his last message from Batman’s number.

Checking out Sionis’ place. Wish me luck.

John, of course, had wished him the best luck accompanied by ten heart emoticons. But that was last night, and there was no news on Roman Sionis suddenly being arrested or disappearing or anything like that today. So more than likely, Bruce was still looking for him...

He scrolled up a little. Apparently the guy whose charge-card was used to book the hotel room from the latest serial murder was claiming it was fraudulent charges. Naturally.

John looked at his contact list anyway. Calling Bruce on the job via his cell might interrupt him. He could try the ‘office’ - aka the Batcave - and see if he could catch him early and get him to do a tiny little search.

But he also didn’t want to bother him too much. Bruce had his plate piled high like he had the last clean one at a crowded buffet.

He could call Tiffany. She might be mad at Bruce - and somewhat rightfully so - but it didn’t mean she wouldn’t cooperate if he dangled the right bait.

Not to mention, Tiffany was less likely to be busy. He doubted they made up yet, so she probably wasn’t at the cave. He chose her cell, deciding that if she didn’t pick up, he’d try the cave next.

One...two… John gave a low little whistle as it continued to ring, the little theme song cycling back around again. Five...six…

Rustle, rustle. “...hello?”

“Hi-ya, Tiff’,” he greeted, listening for anything in the background to give away where she was, “What’cha doin’?”

“Well I was eating,” she answered somewhat grumpily, sounding like she had her mouth half-full. “You better have something good to interrupt my biryani.”

He could hear a slight hum, like a high-powered fan on a computer. There was no echo - she wasn’t in the cave. Likely at home. (Didn’t Bruce mention her sharing an apartment?) “Can you do me a teeensy favor?”

“What kind?” It wasn’t dismissive, but it wasn’t curious enough. Still, he could run with it.

“The firewall-breaching and record-lookup kind. I’d do it, but I don’t have the skills to break into records on a cell.” He tapped on his knee, choosing his next words carefully. “Which is why I’m asking you - you could break into BlackGate’s network with a screwdriver and one of those vendor-locked phones for kids.”

“I’ll have to add that to my bucket list,” she joked. A good sign. “What are you trying to break into?”

“Whatever’s at 400 Wanda Way in Bludhaven.”

Click-click-clack. “Haven’s Helping Hand?”

“Ooh-hoo, sounds legit.” Which meant Ian picked the place. He probably never set foot in it, but it was worth a look just to make sure.

“...so, what’s this for? You got a lead on our Chandis killer?”

“I wish,” John huffed, “but it is related to it. Our resident flying mammal is running around looking for B.M. and his lackeys and hasn’t had any luck; I think I’ve found one of them.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Well, since my friends here are working at places our main baddie has his sticky fingers in, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that mine was recently visited by someone who clearly takes orders from a boss; especially when I’m right down the street from the other little practices.”

“Wait, how’d you know Black Mask is involved with-?”

“Long story,” John interrupted casually, not wanting to delve into that, “Anyway, I also know the guy last lived at apartment 1105 at 511 North Blade Street. Since he’s definitely in Gotham there’s a chance he’d return to his old place.”

“Could be worth a look. Got a name?”

He couldn’t resist a good setup like that. “Why Tiff’, you know I’m called John,” he joked, giggling a little at how she must be pulling that annoyed face.

“...keep going like that and I’ll hang up on you.” She didn’t sound like she really meant it. John ticked off that little checkbox in his head.

“Okay, okay, sorry. It’s Ian Coggs - two ‘g’s.”

A bit of silence followed. John waited patiently, drumming his leg in the same rhythm as the old spy-show tune in his head.

“I’m surprised you’re not running to Bruce with this,” Tiffany mentioned.

“What, he’s not still out chasing the golden goose on top of our other two murderers’ shadows?” Of course he was. John felt it in his gut; Bruce was looking for anything, any shadow, any miniscule thing that might be a break.

“...probably.” It wasn’t quite a scoff - he could practically see her shrugging along like she was pretending very hard not to care.

“Besides, why wouldn’t I tell you? You were part of the team before me,” he said slyly.

Tiffany gave a little sputtering noise. “Doesn’t feel like it. If we swapped places, he’d let you do almost anything.”

That was a little true, but he wasn’t about to say that. He had the perfect opportunity sitting there and he wasn’t going to let it go. “Nah, he wouldn’t,” John answered, knowing there were several things he would absolutely not be allowed to do, “I mean, I might be ‘the adult’ but you’ve got more in the training department. And a better head on your shoulders; mine’s factory defective,” he finished with a giggle at his own joke.

She gave a sort of humph that he took to mean she was mildly amused. Bruce had done the same thing sometimes, with that little upturn in the corner of his lips. John wondered if it was something Tiffany had picked up from being around Bruce so often.

“Of course, you could always prove it to him,” John continued smoothly, pretending to be thinking it over, “If our guy coughs up enough, you’d practically be delivering B.M. on a silver platter.”

She was quiet; she was thinking it over. “You work near the docks; if he’s still in the Cauldron, it’d be a heck of a commute for him.”

“Hey, when the boss calls, you go anywhere.”

“True… I think it’s worth checking out.” John grinned and pumped his fist in triumph, tapping the floor with his shoes as much as he dared. Mission accomplished - he’d pulled the right strings, and now Tiffany was going to search the place for him! “Haven’s almost done cracking.”

John heard an annoying beep in his ear, souring his good mood a little; he pulled away, and sure enough the battery was at seven percent. “Hey, Tiff’, my battery’s dying and I get a pretty shitty signal everywhere else; you’ll have to text me what you find.”

“...it’s St. Dymphna, right? Which room are you in?”

Well, he didn’t expect that as a response. “Um, 308.”

“When’s lock-down?”

“Eleven...” He was pretty sure he knew what she was getting at. “There’s no fire escape or anything for you to land on, though.”

“But your window opens?”

“Yeah, a little...”

“Then it’s no problem. I can swing by in about an hour, hour and a half. I’ll be patrolling around there later anyway.”

“Well, uh, if that works for you…” He grinned to himself; a personal report, too? That could only mean he was growing on her, which meant more information on the goings-on, a happier Bruce, and one less stressful relationship for John to mull over.

Of course, she might just want to make sure he was behaving. Or seeing if she could gather any indication as to what he’d been up to and try to analyze him as much as he did everyone else… John shook the thought. Tiffany was a smart cookie, but she wasn’t on Iman or Bruce’s level of psychoanalysis. Even if she was trying to gather personal info’ on him, she wouldn’t know exactly what went on his head.

“See ya later, then, Tiff’,” he said simply, before remembering that Tiffany did not wear the same sort of armor that Bruce did, “And be careful; the guy packs heat on his right hip.”

“Thanks. Later.”

John hung up, feeling a sort of smug satisfaction. He’d be one step closer to delivering Black Mask to Batman’s doorstep and getting Dymphna cleared of any exploitive activity. And Black Mask himself would shed some light on whoever was pissed at him, solving the other puzzle that nagged at John’s already-messy mind.

Though, speaking of Dymphna and puzzles… John supposed it was time to get some other input.

*~*~*~*~*

“Look, it can’t be either of them, either,” John stressed, pointing to the map of Gotham he’d printed out a week ago on his wall, “Falcone’s dead, and when Maroni got shuffled off to the big house, half the city’s territory – these yellow flags – went up for grabs while their leftovers played follow-the-leader with a bunch of headless-”

“John,” Mickey interrupted, staring at him from John’s chair in the corner, “You’re doing it again.”

Devi flicked her butterfly knife open and closed from her spot on the floor, where she was sitting on several pillows she’d brought from her room. John likened it to chewing gum; just a little something to do to pass time. “He’s trying to say Macaroni and Fal-cone’s old running crews split up into their own groups, Mick’.”

“Then he should just say it,” Mickey muttered, crossing his arms and looking at his feet with an embarrassed scowl.

John resisted the urge to rub the bridge of his nose. “Devi, it’s Ma-roni.”

“I know what I said,” she smirked, flicking the knife open and closed again. “I like him better as a noodle.”

It was funny enough to make John chuckle, but it didn’t cool his temper. John was clearly not meant to be a teacher with how frustrated he was already getting. He didn’t know how Bruce had the patience for it. “Still. They’d normally be good contenders, but their groups are usually the kind to just get reabsorbed into other gangs, and our guy Black Mask-”

“Roman Sionis,” Devi stated, gesturing to the piece of paper John had taped up to the wall.

“- yes, him – likely picked most of the mafia’s less-loyal stragglers up. He’d provide the structure the need.” John circled the little areas he knew the loyalist parts were active in. “The ones who didn’t are a lot smaller in number now, probably still hovering around these little parts they used to haunt.”

“So what does this have to do with the ship?” Mickey asked, trying to follow John’s map marks. “You said that was Roman’s territory now.”

“That’s my point,” John huffed, deciding it was better to try and walk the annoyance out rather than say something he’d regret, “He’s got all this territory,” he gestured to the map as he made strides to their side of the room, ��all these people under him, so why kill the informant? Why leave the drugs behind and make it so obvious that it was a hit when they could’ve just stolen the ship?”

“Woah, back up a sec’, hon’,” Devi interjected, leaning forward like she was interested. “You didn’t say anything about an informant.”

He didn’t? He could have sworn… Well, it didn’t matter. He’d explain it. “Ok, so – there’s five guys in the warehouse, right?” John held up his hand to gesture along, glimpsing the green nail polish still there. “Main guy, subordinate, two guards, and Muddy. Their van explodes – from the inside – and they all race out the one door with whatever firearms they have so they can escape. The shooter snipes the guards first, then the subordinate, but the de-facto leader gets the farthest away – the shooter had to get him in the leg first,” John emphasized with a gun motion at an invisible target’s leg, “then the chest. Muddy should’ve been out before the leader, but he’s captured instead.”

“So…Muddy planted the bomb?” Mickey asked.

“Yes!” John pointed at Mickey. “Exactly! He planted the bomb, he knew to leave last so he wouldn’t get shot up like the rest, and he knew when the ship was coming in!” He paced to them, thinking. “But that’s what I don’t get – if they had a guy on the inside high up enough on the chain that he was trusted with receiving that large a package, why did they kill him? Muddy could’ve provided all kinds of information in the long run - why rely on him for this one thing when he could’ve been their main plant in the whole operation? They could’ve found the Volto and Bauta heads and taken control of the area!” He smacked the map on the wall briefly, continuing to pace as his mind churned out everything he’d been mulling over. “And even if they were done with him, why not just leave him there with the rest?!”

Devi snapped her knife closed. “John-”

“Why make it an execution?! Why give him a gangster’s death twice?!”

“John.”

“And if it was all just revenge, why didn’t they wait until they could meet Black Mask personally to kill him, too?! Hell, blow his whole house up sky-fucking-h-!”

“JOHN.”

John suddenly found himself stopped in his tracks in the middle of the room with Devi’s hands on his shoulders.

“You’re ramblin’ again,” she said, smiling gently up at him and patting his shoulders. “Just take a breath, J’.”

He wasn’t rambling, he was just talking fast and trying to get all the thoughts out that had been piled in his brain for the past several days.

...but it wasn’t worth arguing over. Devi and Mickey didn’t have his sort of brain chemistry; they wouldn’t get it. It was easier to just ‘calm down’ even if it wasn’t necessary. It’s not like it would hurt.

John breathed in and out, clenching and unclenching his fists in time for several beats. Sure enough, he did feel calmer. Not that he wanted to, but...still.

“There ya go,” Devi soothed, patting him gently. “Better?”

“Yeah,” he lied. He wasn’t, he wanted to get it all out, just say everything that had been on his mind for the past several days. Wanted to just make them sit there, a captive audience, and ask everything even if he didn’t get an answer.

“Good. You’re onto somethin’.”

John blinked. “...I am?”

Mickey hummed to himself a little in thought. “I know why.”

John felt more confused. “Why what?”

“Why they didn’t wait to meet Black Mask. You said no one in his gang has seen his face - your guy has.” Mickey said with a little shrug.

Devi gave a little ooh. “Whaddya know, Mick’, we’re on the same page,” she said brightly with an impressed tilt of her head.

That would mean the killer knew Black Mask was Roman Sionis. “But why wouldn’t they just go directly to…” The second he said it aloud it clicked. It was why they left the drugs behind, why they drilled it home it was a hit – a herring in maraschino red.  It wasn’t about strictly killing Roman, but eventually taking his place. “It’s an inside job.”

“Ya said it yourself, J’,” Devi shrugged, “Those gangs he picked up ain’t loyal. Besides, you crossed off everyone else.”

Of course. It wasn’t some rival gang, it was someone in his gang, leading them all to believe it was a rival to throw Black Mask off the scent! That stupid sign with the bodies was just another herring! John had been looking up the wrong thing for days, hunting for a shadow!

Ha ha ha ha ha!

He couldn’t help but laugh at himself. At the whole ridiculous thing. How utterly silly they’d been.

And he caught himself remembering that random laughter wasn’t something most people took kindly to a little too late. Devi was glancing between his eyes as if to guess if he was having a manic episode. Mickey was stock-still, watching him with something similar. “S-sorry,” he said, trying to cover the last bit, “It’s just funny how dumb I’ve been. I mean, really, really dumb.”

They looked a little more convinced.

John rubbed the back of his neck, trying to rub the awkward feeling away as he stared right back at Devi, trying to let her see how sane he was. “Really, I would’ve just kept going in circles without-”

John felt like everything in the world had slowed to a crawl:  a dot of red rolled over Devi’s hair where her temple was, climbing up and disappearing like it had never been there in an instant.

It was like something in him woke up – he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her forward, hearing glass shatter before they even hit the hard tiled floor.

He felt the impact in his knees. Real.

Mickey tumbled out of the chair as Devi swore and John rolled away from her to force his back against the wall between them. He heard the thud of his shoulders hitting the wall. Real.

“What the hell-” she started, losing the rest as she spied the little hole in the wall where John’s head had been seconds ago. “Ohh, what the fuck.”

John was looking at the new shattered hole in the window, hearing his heart in his ears.

Someone shot at him. Someone had a laser scope and a long-range rifle. Someone was sitting out there, waiting for him to reappear, or waiting long enough to move positions and get him while they were sitting there.

“What do we do?” Mickey asked in a less-than-steady voice as he curled his legs to his chest. “What the fuck do we do?”

Devi shifted forward, looking like she was going to crawl for it. “We’re gettin’ the fuck out, that’s-”

John grabbed Devi’s arm and pulled her back with a hard yank. “NO!” She almost smacked back against the wall. “Look at the HOLE!” John gestured slightly to the bullet hole in the wall. “It’s lower than the entry one; they can see the floor!”

“Devi,” Mickey rushed, “You have a phone; you can call the cops!”

No, there was only one ofthose that could really be trusted -

“Are you kiddin’ me? You’ve seen how that shit goes! I’m black and John was tried insane – your half-Puerto Rican ass is the only one of us that can pass for one of their crowd! They’ll kill us just for sittin’ here!”

They could call Batman, but he was out chasing Black Mask, too far to -

“Well what the fuck are we supposed to do, then?” Mickey interjected too loudly, the sound breaking John’s already fragile grip on his temper.

“Will both of you just shut up and let me THINK?!” John shouted, slamming his fists on his bruised knees.

Silence settled in, but it felt like the thing inside of John was rattling the cage.

They felt it too, surely – the flight signal had been lit in their brains, but there was nowhere for them to go. John tapped his legs with his fingers one-by-one, feeling the material of his purple slacks as they made impact. Think, think, think – what do you know for sure, John?

There was nowhere to hide. Standing was out of the question. Crawling was just as deadly. They were all like carnival ducks stuck in their stall, brightly lit under a long fluorescent bulb, just waiting for the kid with the gun to aim just right.

They hadn’t been shot yet. Either the would-be killer was waiting for them, or changing position to the wall.

They couldn’t call out for help. Anyone who came in would be shot.

But they couldn’t stay there. If the shooter was smart, they would move after a bit to re-adjust.

So they’d have to throw him off.

John stared up at the long bulb, his mind whirling…

There was the obvious solution:  one of them could risk running for the light-switch.

It was almost sickening how easily he could imagine either of them bleeding on the floor by the switch…

When he thought about it, he was used to being by himself, but he was never going to be used to being alone. With his psychosis’ voices blocked out through his anti-psychotics, he’d found he’d missed the constant company, even if they didn’t always make sense or play nice with his brain.

But here he was, with real every-day company again. The kind that did, in fact, play nice and make sense. The kind that didn’t play mind-games or threaten him or let him get too riled up just to see what he would do. The kind that wouldn’t try to kill Batman if the opportunity arose, or kill him if they thought it was necessary. They weren’t constant, but they were there, as real as he was – he could hear them breathing and feel their fear in the air.

He couldn’t treat them like they were just means to an end.

The looked at the large fluorescent bulb in the ceiling, wishing it would flicker for a few seconds like the old Arkham ones did, and felt his own lightbulb power on.

“I’ve got it!” He grinned triumphantly, slapping his legs and feeling the sweet sting it left, “We need to break the lightbulb!”

Devi shot a look at it, then at him. “With what?”

“Something hard enough to shatter the glass?” John suggested with a chuckle. He supposed they could toss her butterfly knife, but it might not be heavy enough; they’d have to hit the right point. “The chair would work.”

Mickey looked at the desk chair by his feet. He was clearly rattled, huddled in on himself and looking pale. “It’s kind of big.”

“Don’t tell me those biceps are for show,” John teased, poking his arm, “Even I can lift that.” Mickey didn’t seem convinced. “Look, Mick’, you’ve got the corner. There’s no way the shooter can see you. You just need to squat and flip it up like it’s a table,” John said, gesturing the up motion with his palms.

“Mick’,” Devi said, “he’s right. You’re closest.”

Mickey stared at them both, then at the chair, and sighed slowly through his nostrils. “I guess there’s worse ways to go,” he grumbled, pulling the chair towards him.

“You’ve got this,” John said, flashing him a thumb’s up.

Mickey sneered a bit, but he still squat down rigidly and flipped the chair up into the ceiling, hitting its mark – there was the tinkling crash of breaking glass and a buzz of shorted electricity, and John instinctively covered his head as glass rained down and the chair clattered to the floor.

When he looked back up, they were all sitting in the dark. It was almost like being back in the Old Five Point’s office, where he had hidden while the Agency poked their noses in places they shouldn’t have been.

But that was the old John. New John wasn’t scared. Angry, of course, but he was almost…

Thrilled.

Yes… Toeing the line of danger, on a rescue mission for himself and his friends…  

John giggled, feeling ridiculous by how excited he was during such risky business. “Good job, Mickey. Got it in one.”

Glass shattered and a vwoop noise followed as the shooter fired again, causing Devi to push closer to him with a shout. The shot was a little closer to the edge of the dim light coming in through the window. A red dot disappeared, as if the shooter was turning the scope on and off.

A warning - they could still see in, they weren’t going anywhere.

Like hell they weren’t.

“Mickey, can you hand me my phone?” John asked politely. Mickey pulled it down by the cord, as if he thought the shooter could see it sitting there out of view of the window, and shoved it into John’s waiting hand. “Thaaank you!”

Tiffany was already on her way there - he could just tell her to hurry up. Or send that nice drone with the laser attachment.

John tapped his foot along with the rings. It was only three this time before Tiffany picked up, and she was clearly outside somewhere, because he could hear the wind rush by.

“Hey, how far away are you?” He asked quickly, keeping his eye on the window for any glimpse of the laser sight.

“A -” the voice cut off - “minutes. Why-”

“Okay, I can barely hear you, so long story short, I’m being shot at from someone on the building opposite me and would really appreciate some help.”

He could barely hear her over the wind and occasional break in the line. He was pretty sure it sounded like a surprised “what” and then something unintelligible.

“Yeah, so I still can’t hear you. I don’t know what they look like but I’m guessing they’re on the roof, the shots are angled down.”

Another shot came through the glass, closer to the corner.

“Aaand that’s our queue to leave! Hurry, okay?!”

John hung up, knowing she’d be there fast enough, but wondering if she’d be smart enough to hit them from behind or not. Unless they had a watchguard, which they could, depending on who they were…

There was no time for thinking about that. It was time to get out before the shooter decided to move enough so they could see them in the dim streetlamp.

They definitely couldn’t just run across. The pile of glass in the middle of the floor was a hazard on top of the fact they’d be seen. They couldn’t get around the little desk, either, since it was likely visible; they’d have to press flush against the wall to go under the window.

Or...they had to completely shroud themselves in darkness.

“None of you happen to have a stapler or somethin’, do ya?” Devi asked, holding something in her lap. “I’m tryin’ to think of how we can pin this to the window….”

John was impressed for a moment, having been thinking of somehow getting the sheet from his bed or the dresser to do it, but the feeling gave way to something more like a sinking stone plummeting to the bottom of his stomach.

She had been sitting on the blanket Bruce had gotten him when he was still in Arkham. It was the first thing he’d given him when he’d been put away; a green cashmere blend so soft that John almost wondered if it wasn’t made from clouds.

John yanked it out of her hands and clutched it to himself. “You were sitting on it?”

“The floor’s cold,” Devi stated plainly, not intimidated in the slightest. “Besides, you borrow my blanket when you sit in my room.”

That was true. He couldn’t resist covering himself in something as wild as neon-orange leopard with little skulls, even if it was only for a bit. But Bruce didn’t give that to her, she didn’t clutch it around her shoulders when she wanted to remember getting it, the cute look on Bruce’s face, the utter satisfaction John felt as he got under it for the first time and thought how finally, it was warm in Arkham…

He gripped it, telling himself that Bruce could buy a hundred more in as many colors and weights as John wanted when he got out. Enough to make the biggest blanket fort possible over the biggest mountain of blankets possible.

There was no stapler or anything handy, and he couldn’t shove them in the corners of the window… But someone could hold it.

John squinted at the window. He could stretch his arm across and cover it like a curtain; the pane and exterior walls were thick enough not to be pierced with bullets.

The chair was still on the floor. He was surprised no one had come running yet, with all the noise… There was a doctor underneath his room, gone for the day, naturally… But surely one of his neighbors might have heard.

Unless they just thought he was throwing a fit and didn’t want to get involved… Fine time for them to be ignoring him.

John rolled the blanket into a thin tube and swept it over the floor, pushing the shards of glass towards the chair as much as he could, flinching as another bullet pierced the wall.

He pulled the leg of the chair towards him by his foot, moving it slowly at first just to angle it right, and then yanked it towards him as another gunshot came through. Just as he thought, they were definitely targeting motion.

“Mickey, you’re gonna have to move.”

The burlier man eyed the chair warily. “I’m not standing up on that.”

John scowled as he stood to his full height, an urge to kick him only outweighed by the knowledge that one wrong move could hurt them both far worse. “For Pete’s sake, just move over next to Devi and stop acting like you’re going to die if you twitch out of line! I’m trying to save you, here!”

Mickey frowned, opening his mouth to retort, but closed it just as soon as he’d started, settling on just glaring back and doing as he was told, shuffling as John stepped over him to the corner.

“Now, don’t move until I tell you,” he emphasized, wagging a finger at both of them, “and when you do, crawl close to the floor.”

Once he stood (somewhat wobbly) on the chair by the corner, just barely out of sight of the window, John stretched out his hand in front of him, draping the blanket over it like he was pulling out the edge of a cape to do a dramatic reveal.

Pieces of glass wedged themselves in his bare arm. He could feel blood dribble out, feel the sting of cut flesh, feel a little spike in adrenaline and a familiar stir in his core that sent a tingle in his head…

Things looked clearer, somehow. His vision was always twenty-twenty, but somehow things felt sharper, and not just because little edges were digging into him. Without thinking, he knew all this, what he was feeling right now, was all very real.

He adjusted it to cover his arm with a little less glass-digging-into-skin, and upon draping it just right, it felt like he was almost a magician, covering the trick box from the audience’s view as the assistant did the rest.

“Ladies and Gentleman, the disappearing bullets trick!” John joked as he quickly shoved his arm over the top pane of the window.

It was just long enough to cover it completely, and there came a wonderful hush in the audience.

He could feel his heart in his ribs, pounding away like it was counting off beats, waiting, waiting, waiting…

Crash!

Crash-crash-crash-crash-!

Beams of light appeared one by one like tiny spotlights as the window. John barely flinched as he counted off the sounds.

At the count of ten, it went quiet.

John waited a beat, then two, and grinned wider. “And, ohh-ho, they’re gone!” John chuckled, “What a maroon... Okay, now you guys can go.”

“...what about you?” Devi asked, not moving.

“Just go,” John brushed off, not wanting to think about possible magazine refills, “Watch the glass.”

There were no more words, just the little thuds and occasional little crunch of glass telling them they were crawling as fast as possible. John held the blanket steady, thinking as he hoped the shooter didn’t decide to pack an extra magazine.

He could he risk peeking out across the way? Was the shooter keeping a few rounds in the chamber, waiting for his face to appear? Had they given up?

He might not see anything, but if he did, he would know at least the vague height of whoever was standing on the building three or four car-lengths away with a rifle, intent on killing him for whatever reason they had.

The door opened, letting in more light from the hallway, and Devi was the first to sneak through. John spied shiny spots of blood on her arms before she disappeared from view.

Mickey scrambled out after her, similar dots visible on his palms as he stood up.

John let the blanket fall to the floor as he heard them both call out for help. The noise faded into the background as he carefully took his phone out of his pocket. The little binocular lens clipped over the camera with a plastic snap, and John breathed in, smelling copper and the spring air of May, and slid his phone’s lens over the edge of the window, zooming in further on the building in the distance.

At first, he didn’t see anything. The camera was great, but it wasn’t exactly made for night use, even with the adjustments he made to the settings. Just black on a dark building, barely lit by the streetlamp.

But he moved it around a little, trying to get the exact angle the shooter must have been at, and he saw it.

A figure in the distance, barely seen at first, just a dark shape.

And then he spotted the drone with a spotlight, flashing over the figure’s back, and John pressed the record button just in time.

The figure whirled around with their long rifle in hand and smacked the drone right out of the air and to the floor, and seemed to hit it again, a flash of light showing off their silhouette again. One more smash seemed to satisfy them, but John could see them suddenly perk up straight, as if they heard something, and then they were gone, a black blob disappearing into the night with a whirl of a…

No. Not a cape. It was as if they were wearing a long coat.

He kept watching, almost hoping he’d see them come back so he could get a proper look at their face, but instead, he saw a figure glide down to the roof, too sleek to be Batman, and seem to rush to check if the shooter was still nearby, a second drone flying from their hip to scout ahead.

“John Doe?” A voice called from the hallway, light but smokey from years of tobacco use. An orderly - Todd something-or-other. “Are you still in there?”

“Yeah,” he called back, tucking his phone back in his pocket, “I am.”

“Keep away from the window. Police are on their way. I’m staying right outside this door, you just keep talking to me.”

“You don’t need to,” John answered, hopping off the chair and stumbling slightly, crunching over bits of broken glass here and there. “The guy’s already gone.” He pulled down the pages he’d taped to his wall, not wanting anyone to start thinking he was spreading some kind of conspiracy theory, and lingered on the piece he’d written ‘Ian Coggs’ visited Stitched Up Alt.’ on.

Something wasn’t right. The way Ian had looked at him that day, like he hadn’t expected him to be there. He seemed to have reported seeing him to Black Mask, but why would they go after him? Why would they care?

What was one mentally ill guy with a forgotten past to a guy like Roman Sionis?

*~*~*~*~*

John wasn’t sure what he had expected to happen after an incident like getting shot at by a sniper in the middle of the night, but he didn’t expect to be stuck waiting in St. Dymphna’s medical center. Devi and Mickey seemed adamant about not straying too far from him, despite the lengths the active officers on duty seemed to go to, shoving John in a corner bed as the nurse picked out the glass from his arm and they attempted to ask him questions while he repeatedly told them he wouldn’t talk until his lawyer arrived.

And good ol’ Reggie had practically come running on his short, square legs. He probably smelled a lawsuit waiting to happen. That, or Batman had ‘a talk’ with him about responding to anything to do with John as fast as possible after the whole thing with Dr. Crane.

John suspected it was a combination of both.

He was expecting Bruce, though, who hadn’t shown up yet. He didn’t mind if Batman didn’t make an appearance, but what felt like half an hour into the vocal probing, he found himself really, really wanting some comfort. There was only so many distasteful looks and thinly-veiled remarks he could take, even if they weren’t all directed at him.

“I told you, I’m not movin’,” Devi repeated for the third time, sitting quite still against the back of her own bed several spots over. She had the same sort of gauze bandage as him, only she had them on both arms, and some plasters under her short sweatpants where little glass pieces had stuck to her knees.

“If you’re sure,” Dr. Farms seemed to sigh, “Your sister said she’d be on the way. We’ll keep an orderly at the door in case there’s any trouble.”

Devi snorted. “These two aren’t trouble,” she said with a shrug. “I’m not wearing this t-shirt for nothin’, you know.” She gestured to the word ‘kickass’ spelled there in glittery cursive.

Reggie was quick-reading over the statement John had made, the end of his pen trailing underneath. John had left out the part of him using his phone, of course. He wanted to just grab it out from under his pillow and call Bruce himself. “And this is all correct?” Reggie asksed, tapping the fountain pen at the end of the pad of paper.

“Yup.” John swung his legs slightly over the edge of the thin mattress, gently digging his fingers into the fabric. He couldn’t do it too hard, or it’d attract attention.

“You counted fourteen shots?”

“Yuup.”

“...and how did you know when you could let the other two leave?”

“When no more shots came through. Isn’t that obvious?”

“Hm.” Reggie tapped the cap end of the pen against the paper. “This is acceptable.”

John couldn’t back the question burning in his head. The one he didn’t want a bad answer to. “So...what happens now?”

“Standard police procedure, they’ll investigate, ask follow-up questions - the usual,” Reggie answered, “As for your continuing treatment, I believe they’re still figuring out where you’ll be staying until the police clear this up.”

“What?!” Devi leaned forward, a few of her long thin braids falling over her shoulder. “You mean he’s not stayin’ here?”

“He can’t stay in an active crime scene,” the lawyer went on in his no-nonsense voice, “Especially not when he might have been the intended victim.”

“But he’s the reason Mick’ and I are even alive!”

“That doesn’t factor into the decision,” Reggie answered coolly.

“I don’t care,” Devi slid off her bed and joined John’s, crossing her arms and giving Reggie the stink eye, “I’m not lettin’ him go to one of those shitty state homes.”

“I’m afraid that’s not up to you. It’s up to St. Dymphna and the G.C.P.D.”

Them? They had a say in this?

No. No, no, no. He knew what they were going to do. What they wanted to do. He felt his lip twitch backwards and his stomach seize as something white hot hit him.

“I’m not going back to Arkham,” John said with all the restraint on the furious being under his skin he could.

Reggie’s fingers had twitched in a flinch, and he cast a look at John. “I’ll give this to Officer Hutton and remind him of that.”

Devi watched him go with a scrutinizing squint. “You doin’ okay, there, John?”

“Ha, no!” John answered honestly, finding no need to restrain his feelings any more. He felt the other end of the mattress sink; Mickey had sat down on his other side. “Just got shot at, interrogated unnecessarily, and now…” He crossed his arms, wanting to feel something remotely comfortable as the boiling point in his started to wind down to a simmer. “I’d rather have faced that sniper with nothing but a paperclip than go back to Arkham.”

Devi put her arm around his back, pulling him into a bit of a side hug. “I’ll kick their asses if anyone tries to put you in there.”

Mickey gave a chuckle. “Ditto.” He gave John a small smirk. “They’re gonna shuffle us ‘round to who-knows-where, but I’ll be damned if I let them throw you back. Not after you saved me twice in one day.”

John felt more of his anger ebbing away. He felt more grateful than anything, but there was that nice warm feeling that came with people doing genuinely nice things for him. “I’m sorry I yelled at you guys earlier.”

Mickey shrugged. “Better than losing my head.”

“Apology accepted. But it’s no big deal,” Devi said with a knowing little smile, “I’ve looked the devil in the eyes while only wearing a thong. It’s gonna take a lot more than that for you to get under my skin.”

John felt a giggle pass over him. “Better not let a doctor hear that - they’ve got scalpels.”

“That’s awful,” Mickey said with a shake of his head.

“Speakin’ of doctors,” Devi muttered, pulling out something from her pocket and sliding it into John’s palm, “Here.”

It was her butterfly knife. John had almost forgotten how oddly nice it felt to hold one. Light, dangerous, dexterous… The rainbow sheen on the metal was cute, but the fact that she was willing to just hand it to him, all trustworthy-like, was what made him smile, and made that warm feeling grow. “You’re giving this to me?”

“Doesn’t matter where you end up - Gothamites are bound to try somethin’ with you,” Devi said with a little shrug. “Besides, you could always pick a lock with it and run away, if you had to.”

“Run away to where?” John chuckled, “Bruce’s place is pretty far from all the funny farms.”

Mickey gave a short hum of thought and pulled a card out of his wallet. “Here.”

A key card for the Lucky Hotel.

“Better than nothin’.”

“You guys…” John almost felt like he was tearing up. No, scratch that, he was. “You guys are the best.” He put both gifts away (in separate pockets, of course) and laid back to grab his phone from under the pillow. The cops were all discussing matters amongst themselves, not even glancing their way. “You know what this calls for?” He pulled the camera app up and threw his arms around both of their shoulders. “A group shot!”

“Ooh, hold on,” Devi shifted, tilting her head just right for the camera angle, and smiled. “Okay, that’s better.”

Mickey shook his head, an amused smile on his square face. “I knew you two were crazy.”

“Ha ha, like you aren’t?” John ribbed. “Smile!”

A little click, and John thought it was one of the best he’d taken. Definitely one for the album.

And then, in the moment of silence afterwards, John heard it:  the instantly recognizable voice that wove in and out of his dreams, good and bad, real and unreal.

Bruce passed through the thin wall of police and doctors with the unmistakable stride of Batman, the sight hitting John like a jolt to the heart. Confidence, determination, power – it all came through in his steps, as reassuring and steady as the sunrise. It didn’t matter if he was in street clothes or bearing a five-o’clock shadow, it was Bruce’s Batman politely telling the doctor in his ‘fuck you’ voice that he wasn’t letting him stay there a minute longer.

John felt a hand push on his back, and barely heard to little ‘go ahead’ Devi whispered to him.

He didn’t care what was in his way. He didn’t stop moving until he was right in Dr. Song and Bruce’s space, not taking his eyes off Bruce for a moment.

“John,” Dr. Song said with a slight cough, forcing his focus over to her, “Bruce has offered to take temporary guardianship of you while the state goes through its’ investigation. As you’re a ward of the state in our care, you don’t have to say-”

“Yes,” John said, noticing Bruce looking him over like he was thinking of possible injuries, “I’m saying yes.”

Dr. Song seemed to have expected that. “Your lawyer and his are talking, but I made it quite clear that your current treatment is to be followed to the letter. I still want you to report for our scheduled therapy, and you’ll still have to make the appointments set by Mr. Casselli and Officer Kane.”

“That’s fine.”

“Medicine has to be taken strictly by our current regime.”

“Of course.”

“Work hours will still have to be met, if possible.”

“Makes sense.” Dr. Song looked like she was trying to find any reason John wouldn’t agree with. “Really, doc’, you act like I’m not going to come back,” John said with a light chuckle, “I kind of need that certificate of sanity, you know.”

“I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting in to.”

Oh, believe me, I know, John thought to himself, not daring to say it aloud. “I’m sure I can handle it,” he said, sounding as confident as half of him felt.

She seemed a little more at ease. “I’ll draft up the prescriptions.”

The second she was turned away, John trapped Bruce in his arms, intent on feeling the warmth radiate from beneath his plain white button down into his chest, and suddenly felt more…vulnerable than before. He knew he was safe – he was with Bruce – but when Bruce lightly held him back and said ‘it’s okay’ in that soothing, meaningful voice, the little walls in John collapsed, and he found himself clinging onto him for life and falling for him all over again.

*~*~*~*~*

Notes:  

Congratulations, John, you officially made two new friends!!! °˖ ✧◝(○ ヮ ○)◜✧˖ ° I’m so proud of you!!!

Thank you all for your continuing support!!! *.⋆( ˘̴͈́ ॢ꒵ॢ ˘̴͈̀ )⋆.* I hope you can feel my love radiate from the screen!

As you can tell, I had a heck of a time with this chapter. Sure, it’s almost a full week later than previously thought, but look how much stuff happened! It wasn’t originally planned to be this long - but hey, John needs to bond with people, so damn it, I’m gonna write it and make it believable! I had fun making use of the “camera feature” here and adding in investigation choices and a new time-out feature. And I had loooots of fun bringing out our vigilante!Joker in John throughout! I hope I did our boy justice! I reconsidered and rewrote a lot, but I’m pretty dang happy with how much I’ve laid out so far and what this chapter’s accomplished. Especially the little things I’ve hidden in here… Heheheheehheeh!

Next time we’ll return with Bruce, who seems to have a full colony living in his house as two sides of the mystery start to come together… See you in (hopefully) two weeks!

[diamondish9]

Can I request yamato & #40? :3

Slightly suggestive at the end, I saw my chance and I took it

Nikaido Yamato x GN!Reader Drabble #40: “Do you promise?” (Drabble List)

Mitsuki had told you how stressed Yamato had been latelyoffhandedly when you had gone out drinking a few nights ago. You hadn’t thoughtmuch about it then, your main focus as to keep Sogo as sober as possible.Yamato himself brought it up again when you two where Rabbitchatting during abreak from your respective jobs the day before. That was when you had decidedyou would try to help him de-stress on his day off.

Luckily, on his next off day, almost everyone else would beworking. The only people who also had that day off where Iori and Tamaki, butthe children would be at school most the day and spend the rest of theafternoon and early evening at the arcade like they always did on off days. Sofor the most part, you could spend almost all day with your beloved boyfriend.

You had told Mitsuki of your plan, and since he would be thelast person to leave the dorms, he promised to keep the door unlocked, and wouldmessage you when he had left. You would then sneak in half an hour after heleft, prepare Yamato breakfast since he most likely would not have left bed oreaten by then. What happens next is completely up to whatever mood Yamato isin, but there is a very good chance he’ll take advantage of the empty dorms.

You walked up to IDOLiSH7’s dorms and wiggled the knob tofind it unlocked like Mitsuki had promised. You quietly opened the door withoutseeming suspicious to the people outside and carefully closed the door beforelocking it. You snuck past the office and into the living quarters. You setdown your bag on one of the couches before heading to Yamato’s room.

You knocked on the door and didn’t get a response. Youknocked again and when still met with silence, you figured Yamato was still asleepso you slowly opened the door. Sure enough, you could see Yamato sleepingsoundly, Musashi joininghim at its charging port on the opposite side of the room. You slowly crept upto the idol so you could wake him up, only to stop dead in your tracks when yougot close enough to see his face clearly.

It was the first time you had seen Yamato without hisglasses. He always wore them; he was blind as a bat without them. He refused totake them off, even around you. He almost resembled someone you knew, but youcouldn’t quite place your finger on it. Before you could even begin goingthrough different names and faces, Yamato’s eyes slowly cracked open.

“Morning sunshine!” You said as Yamato slowly began to gain consciousnessand return to the land of the living.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He sat up and rubbed hiseyes, reaching for his glasses that sat on the headboard. You quickly grabbedthem and held them close. You wouldn’t allow him to put them back on until youfigured out who he looked like.

“Isn’t it natural? I’m here to help my beloved boyfriendde-stress on his one day off.”

“And that includes holding my glasses hostage?”

“Kind of.” You grinned and went to turn on the lights. Yourboyfriend cringed at the sudden change in brightness. Now that he was in betterlighting, you began going through every single name and face you had ever seen.While also completely ignoring how attractive Yamato looked in the earlymorning. “We’re going to play a little game today.”

“And what might that be?” Yamato asked.

“I promise to do whatever you want for the whole day if youwear your contacts.”

“Everything I ask for?” You nodded. “Do you promise?” You crossed an x over your heart, sealing yourdeal. “Good.”

Despite being as blind as a bat at thecurrent moment, Yamato wasted no time jumping out of bed and throwing you ontoit. Looks like breakfast would turn into brunch.

[nothing-but-kpop-dreams]

Where (1/3)

Author’s note: This is my first drabble. I J-hope you all like it (‘,:D)

 ***Anything in italics is a flashback.  And anything separated by a “---” is a new flashback.***

Genre: Angst (y/n x Jhope)

Summary: You have felt empty for months now and you aren’t too sure why. It when you decided to look back on things that you figured it out.

Word Count: 2113

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Alternate Ending | Alternate Ending Part 2

You woke up feeling as out of sorts as you have the last few weeks. You turned over to your side, his half of the bed was empty as always, like it had been for what felt like months.

You dragged yourself out of the bed and made your way to the bathroom to wash up. The reflection you saw in the mirror was one that you refused to believe was yours. Your eyes were still a bit puffy from the intense crying of the night before. There were deep dark bags under your eyes that you acquired from countless anxiety filled nights without him. Lastly, there was this permanent frown that scarred your face even in times when you tried to smile. All of it caused from your feelings of emptiness.

“Where did this all come from?” You thought

You pulled out your toothbrush, popping it into your mouth as you replayed everything of the last few months trying to figure the whole thing out

---

From your bed you could hear him going about the place, most likely dropping his things at the entrance.

“Finally” you cheered internally

2am couldn't have come sooner. Now his practice was over and he was home.

His footsteps neared the bedroom door and you shut your eyes to pretend to be asleep. He always got after you when you stayed up for him.

The door knob moved slowly in attempts to be quiet.  You shut your eyes tighter as if that would make it more believable that you were asleep

The first thing he did was drag himself to the bathroom. It took a long while but eventually he came out.

He slowly crawled into bed and you knew it was your chance. You rustled about as if him climbing under the sheet woke you up.

“Hi baby.” you said in a mumble, your eyes only half open to add to the “just-woke-up-because-i-felt-something” role you were in.

“Hi.” he said in a grunt.

He slid under the sheet, but he only stuck to his side of the bed. No words, no hug, no kiss. All he did was just lay there doing a last minute scroll of his twitter feed. He had been acting like this the past week. The first few days it didn't bother you, but now, all you really wanted was a small cuddle like before.

You wiggled up to him and snaked your arms around him, just digging your face in the crook of his neck. It was only a week, but you missed the feeling of him in your arms.

But just as soon as you had your hold on him, he pushed your hands off. “Y/n, I’m sore.”

Y/n. Why didn't he call you jagi like he always does.

“...So how was your day?” you asked with a yawn. The sleep was catching up to you now, but you wanted to stay up longer for him.

Jhope didn't even look at you. He just rolled to his side, giving you his back. “You should sleep. You have work in the morning.”

---

“You ready to go?” he asked impatiently from the doorway with a huff.

“Aaaaalmost done.” you hummed while you applied your lipstick.

“It’s just us and the guys. Why are you getting all dressed up?” he sounded so annoyed.

“Maybe because this is the first time on months that i can. When was the last time we even went out?”

There was no reply out of him.

You swung your head around to face him only to see that he left the room. “You have to be kidding me!” you grumbled as you shoved your feet into your heels

You stepped out into the living room. Jhope was on the couch looking down at his phone. He was always on his phone when he was home. It was a habit that was starting to annoy you.

“I’m ready”

He got up with a grunt and began walking to the door.

“Wait, do I look okay, right?” you were trying to fish for a compliment. You didn’t spend an hour getting ready for nothing.

“You look fine.” he said without even looking back at you.

“Ya, you didn’t even look at me!” you whined as you caught up to him.

His shoulders slumped and his neck practically gave up supporting his head, but eventually he turned to you. He scanned you up and down with bored eyes. “Like I said, you look fine.”

“Not great? Not beautiful?” Desperate was your middle name at this point. You just really wanted to hear something more out of him.

He gave you this “smile”. You didn’t know how to explain it. It was almost a pity smile. He cupped your face and he gave you a kiss, but just barely. His lips were barely on you for a second before he pulled back and said. “You look amazing. Now let’s go cuz we are late. They probably started eating without us.”

You followed him out the door and down the hall to the elevator. You grabbed his hand and intertwined your fingers with his. Jhope said nothing more. His hand was limp. All he did was continue to walk.

You tried to think of something to say, but you didn’t know. He didn’t like to talk about work, neither did you. You hadn’t really done much in your day instead of your usual stuff around the house.

The silence continued as you stepped into the elevator. Once he rested in the corner he pulled his phone back out. You studied him as he looked at the screen. His eyes were alive and there was even a slight smile on his face. From the reflection from the glasses that complimented his outfit, you could see the message app open. A bubble popped up ad that’s when his smile widened and he let out a chuckle. His fingers began to dance on the screen as he typed away.

You grew curious and looked over his shoulder. “What happened?”

“Nothing!” he said, shoving his phone in his pocket.

---

No pillow talk, no cuddles, not even any evidence of love bites. He only rolled over and knocked out.

You shaved, spent an embarrassing amount of money on new lingerie, and took over an hour on your make up. And for what? A ten minute fuck.

Your attempts at seduction failed when he came home from his thankfully shorter practice. He didn’t want to play along with your dirty flirts and his body cringed under your touch when you wanted to give him a “sexy massage”. He just skipped it all and got straight to the point of what you wanted. It was as if he was just trying to get it over with.

You regretted everything. You felt ugly and even more unwanted than you did before. A few tears slid down the side of your face. You tried to hold yourself back from crying, but it was hard. “Don’t cry or he’ll wake up.” you thought. “The last thing you want to do is wake him and and make him lose sleep over your stupid thoughts. Of course he wasn’t into it. He was tired. It was stupid to do this, i should have known better.”

---

“Why are you awake?” He asked when he found you sitting in the living room couch at 2am. “What have I told you about waiting up for me?”

You only glared at him.

“You are going to regret staying up this late in the morning.” he warned

“Where were you?”

His movements froze for a second. Finally you said something that got his attention. “...Practice”

“I thought it was supposed to end at 11.”

“It kept going longer. It happens all the time. You know that already.”

“So why is it that when I called Yoongi an hour ago, he said that practice ended at 12?”

His face cringed at your question. “Why did you call Yoongi?!?”

“Because you didn’t pick up! So where were you?”

He squinted his eyes at you, so offended by your tone. “We went for drinks after practice, alright.”

“Yoongi didn’t say anything about you all going for drinks.”

“He didn’t come with us! He is my fucking baby sitter now or what?!? What’s with all these questions? What is so wrong with me wanting to unwind after practice before i sleep and do it all over again?!? Was us going out so bad?”

You hung your head. “No-”

“That’s what i thought!”

“But-”

“No! We aren’t gonna talk about this anymore. It’s late and i want to sleep.” he grumbled.

---

It wasn’t even two minutes into being home and you couldn’t hold it in any longer. Throughout the entire Big Hit Christmas party, you were completely ignored by your boyfriend and you were beyond mad.

“Who is she?” you hissed as you slid off your heels by the door.

“What?” he played stupid while he put his keys on the hook and slid off his jacket.

“That girl you were talking to all night. Who is she?”

“Soomin? She’s my stylist.” his voice  was so casual is it you even more upset.

“So you spend the whole party with you stylist instead of your girlfriend?!?”

“Y/n-”

“Do you have any fucking idea how ugly it felt that whenever someone suggested to have a picture taken, I had to go around looking for you? Do you know how bad i felt that i barely get to see you and this one night to go out with you, I keep catching you talking away with some girl that you see at work every fucking day?!” You could feel your voice shaking just remembering how he smiled at “Soomin”.

“What are you talking about? You and I ate together with everyone else, we danced, we took pictures.”

“Only in the beginning when all the cameras were out! You only stuck around when the others were sober enough to have a decent conversation and even then i couldn’t even get a word out of you. But no with that styist of your you were just a fit of laughs weren’t you?”

“Oh what so i can’t be a nice guy with her? She’s going through a divorce! I couldn’t help but try to cheer her up cuz her jerk of a husband didn’t want to come with her.”

“And what about me?!? What about ME being happy with MY boyfriend?!?”

“You say that as if you weren’t having the time of your life laughing up a storm with the others. I saw you! Every time I looked over at you, you were taking pictures or laughing with Jungkook-”

“I was saving face!”

“Saving face my ass! Stop overreacting about all this.”

“I am not overreacting! Just tell me why the fuck you were all over her!”

He furrowed his brows at you and tilted his head, a bit taken aback by what you said. Then suddenly he let out a laugh

You could only stare at him through watery eyes. How could he be laughing?

“Oh now i see what you’re getting at.” he said under his breath. His face was serious now despite that fact that he was laughing only a second ago. He stared back at you almost as if he was disappointed in you. “I can’t believe something like this is coming out of you.” he said with a tone of disgust.

You stayed quiet. You didn’t really know what to say. His eyes burned at your skin and silence filled the room.

“...Y/n i don’t have the time or energy to have a stupid argument over stupid bullshit.” he said eventually. “I need to sleep, not to explain myself from your delusional accusations.” his words were like knives

Still you said nothing. But then again what could you say?

“You know what? I think i’m just gonna leave.” he said as he turned back to the door.

“Leave?” you barely got out “What- What do you mean you’re gonna leave?”

“I don’t need to deal with this right now.”

You marched up to him and pulled his hand way from the keys. “I’m trying to talk to you!” you cried.

He pulled his arm right back. He grabbed the keys and jacket with one hand. “Sounds more like yelling to me.” he said before he slammed the door.

-

Your face was streaked with hot tears. Your body felt weak as your cries evolved from soft hiccups to intense sobs. A wave of pain resonated throughout your body and your limbs went limp. You felt like an empty shell of a person as you stared back at your sobbing reflection. “Where did the love go?”

-Admin Boat

[gutterdreams]

Ten Feet Over Pt 3 [Billy Hargrove]

Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things or the GIF. Warnings: Swearing. Word Count: 3.9 k

PART ONE PART TWO

There were three very small windows on Billy’s front door, but due to their opaque glass, none of them gave you any indication of what was lurking inside. Max had tore past you on the driveway once Billy rolled up to the house, the front door long since closed when she rushed in and away from you, her annoying step-brother, and his incessant need to play with your hair while he drove. She lost count of how many times she rolled her eyes in the backseat.

Billy was just a half step ahead of you on his front steps, ready to go inside and throw himself down on top of his bed. He was usually high energy, but he felt calm enough to let himself relax today. You two had been flirting since he arrived in Hawkins, had gone on a date two months ago, a redo first date two weeks from that, and now you were together. It shifted some of the venomous weight that Billy carried around with him like a shadow made of wet cement. You were a constant, something routine to count on, and had proven yourself loyal in a short period of time. Billy felt like he actually took in full breaths around of you instead of stealing staccato inhales in-between distractions like he did in every other pocket of his life.

“You okay?” He looked behind himself, hand on the door knob. There was suddenly too much space between you both, he could feel  it, and it prompted Billy to check on you.

Staring up at the door, a look of uneasy bewilderment had a starring role on your face. Eyes wide and nervous as they memorized the subtle fades of yellow paint on his front door.

“I’m a little freaked out.” You tried to laugh at yourself while admitting honestly.

“Why?” Billy’s brows stuck you in a tight frame as he turned further around to face you.

“I’ve never been to your house before.”

“It’s just a house.” In comparison to yours, it was quaint and Billy had come to resent it since going to so many house parties in town. Other people’s homes made his place look like a shed and he wanted better for himself. It made him miss California even more. They had two bathrooms in California, in the house that he grew up in with his mom and dad. It had been a bungalow like this place, but there was more breathing room which Billy longed for whenever Neil was home.

“It’s your house.” You pointed out with a cute wiggle of your hips. “I’ve never heard you say anything nice about your parents.”

“She’s just my step mom.” He corrected you with his eyes miffed at the very sight of Max’s mother. Sure, Susan was nice, but Billy thought that was the bare minimum a person could offer. Nice was never enough. He held the door open for the occasional old lady at the gas station, he carried your books to your morning class and the one after lunch, and he waited for Max to buckle up her seat-belt before darting out of a parking lot. Billy could be nice and he knew he was a self-obsessed asshole.

“Is your Dad home?” Neil Hargrove’s reputation proceeded him. To you, Billy had exclusively referred to him as a ‘fucking dick’.

“Never before five.” Sometimes later than that, but Billy had that much of his dad’s schedule memorized. He wiped at  the peach fuzz above his lip and waved his fingers inward to his face, encouraging you to follow him inside. “If you want, we can leave as soon as they get here.” With one step, Billy closed the gap between you and promised. He put his hand gently behind your neck, taking some hair to the back of your ear as he did. “Say the word and we go.” If you were that uncomfortable, Billy had no problem corralling Max back into his car and driving you to your place.

“Thanks.” After a moment of collecting some serenity, you nodded. He was smiling down at you and, for a moment, you couldn’t detect any of the tough exterior he was known for. Leaning in, you kissed him and pressed your body against his, warmth pushing from each other and onto the other. “You’re good to me.” It was early days, but you already felt secure with Billy. Everyone told you to never go out with him, Nancy going the extra mile and telling you ‘not to be one of those girls who gets in Billy’s car’, but you swore up and down in moments like this that they were wrong, that they just didn’t know him, that he wasn’t so awful.

“Always.” Billy chuckled with his bottom lip against yours, the promise vibrating against you.

In retrospect, Billy had been sort of possessive in how he looked out for you, but the memory still played fondly as you stood outside of his place, your dad’s pick-up truck parked at the end of the street out of discretion. The house was just as frightening to you now as it had been the first time Billy brought you over, but you weren’t worried about having to see Neil anymore. You were far more scared about having to hear Billy’s voice or seeing any kind of sad blanket of sadness or cracking flame of anger in his eyes.

A deep breath in, you hugged the white cardboard box meant for files to your waist and headed up his driveway. The Camaro was gone as you suspected it would be. Before Saturday, if someone asked you how well you felt you knew Billy, you would have honestly told them that you knew the earring-wearing teenage boy better than you knew yourself. Right now, you felt like everything he shared with you and all the little tidbits you learned from being with him for fifteen months must have been wrong. Still, you knew that if he only had to watch Max until Susan was home at six that he would be out the door and looking for ways to handle the stress you were causing him. So, you safely headed up the three front steps and knocked on the door of the house that you had been in well over a hundred times.

You didn’t know who you wanted to answer. If it was Neil, you knew you would have to hear some sort of snide and undoubtedly sexist remarks. He would pick at you for information about what was going on and most likely use that as ammo to humiliate Billy with at some point. If Max answered, you would have to hear her 'hmph’ and 'grumph’ around with hateful eyes, telling you that you couldn’t break up with Billy because if you did, he would become a worse thorn in her side than he already was. You knew this because she once expressed those feelings after you and Billy had gone back and forth the whole drive home from school, arguing in front of her. If Susan answered, she would probably try to talk you down, tell you to cool off, and choose forgiveness. You had seen Neil disregard her feelings at the dinner table before and, even with flushed cheeks, she would shrug it off and force a smile big enough that the corners of her mouth poked the tears in her eyes back.

Susan pulled the door open after just a few seconds and it was the best of three bad options you supposed.

“Well, hello beautiful girl,” As she greeted you, she relaxed one side of her pelvis against the open yellow door. “God, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” The last time you were over was the Thursday night before the fateful Saturday. Of course, she probably just meant it was weird not seeing you at all on the weekend.

“Yeah, I just came to drop Billy’s stuff off.” The box in your hands was full. Undershirts, his jewelry, jewelry he gave you, two mixtapes, photographs, almost empty cigarette pack, a variety of lighters, a box with six condoms left in it, the leaf necklace, and all the notes he wrote you in class and one on Garfield stationary he found in your kitchen’s junk drawer when he was drunk and used it to write a stupid poem about you on. At the time, it had been cute, but now it just made you angry.

Susan’s face had gone from fair to powdery at your words. It was the last thing she expected to hear, but it certainly explained how Billy had been behaving for the last two days. He had been the same short tempered kid that she was used to, but mopier.

“Well, come in. Let’s chat.” She offered and stepped aside so you walk over the threshold, box first. “Do you want something to drink?” As she locked the door behind you, she offered, but you declined with a head shake while kicking off your shoes.

“I don’t have a lot of time.” You didn’t know when Billy would be back. “Just dropping stuff off.” The path from the front door to Billy’s bedroom in the back, right by Max’s, was one you had made many times before. You had done it in the dark while drunk with an incoherent and very belligerent Billy tugging on your sleeve, but this twelve step journey felt more challenging. Inside, you knew it would be the last and that was hard.

You walked right by Susan and headed to his room, pushing it open with a kick of your toes against the bottom of the door. It opened slowly and revealed the minimalistic room. Billy didn’t have a lot of stuff. His clothes were overflowing out of the white plastic hamper in one corner while his hair product and cassette collection were unorganized on shelves by his makeshift crate-and-mirror vanity. His bed was unmade with your sweater at the edge.

“What happened?” Susan knew it wasn’t her business, but she stood in Billy’s door frame and asked anyway while you went to the side of his bed. You had planned to just leave the box behind, but instead you turned it upside down and let the contents spill out over his crumpled up blue blanket. After seeing your sweater, you realized this was your only real chance at getting your stuff back.

“Just ran it’s course.” With a shrug, you told her. It wasn’t really a lie, but it certainly didn’t feel like the truth.

“I’m sure you two could work on it if you wanted to.” She knew how much Billy cared for you. She couldn’t imagine that he was okay with this. The fact that he hadn’t punched a hole in any of her walls yet came as a bit of surprise. It occurred to Susan, only then, that, maybe, he didn’t know about this break up yet and that frightened her.

“I don’t want to.” Quickly, you responded without having to think. Right now, you felt good. You had had one more power pep talk from your girlfriends before leaving your house to drop off his stuff. Nancy’s voice was coaching you through the whole thing, 'Drop it off and go. If he says 'hi’, you say? Nothing. If you really have to say something, tell him to choke.’ It was intense, but that was who Nancy had become since Barb disappeared. She wasn’t a timid church mouse any more.

In ball form, you stuffed your sweater into the box and went to his mirror. You plucked the photo of you, one Max took at Christmas of you with your head on his shoulder while he looked down at whatever was out of frames and in your hands. Gripping the top, your fingers wasted no time doing to it what you had to every picture you brought over in the box. You ripped it down the middle and took yourself out of it. If you could help it, you would remove evidence of ever having been with Billy from the planet.

The door unlocked and Susan’s attention was sent to the right. She sighed, fear passing from her mouth, as she went limp and stepped out of his doorway and into the other room.

“She wasn’t home.” Billy said to no one, assuming that Max was still in the living room where she was when he left to go to your house and talk you back into his arms.

“She’s in your room.” Gentle as languo hair on a newborn baby, Susan informed him from the free space between his room and Max’s. Her arms were crossed under her breasts while she fit the free edge of her nail between two teeth, nervously nibbling.

Billy had stepped over your shoes while kicking off his own and darted to his bedroom. In his mind, you would be sitting on his bed and waiting for him, an apology in your eyes and a sweet smile welcoming him in for a kiss. This is what he had been painfully waiting for all day. Instead, he saw you looking over his shelves and the mess of discarded mementos of your relationship on top of his bed.

Just once, he panted in panic and then swung his door shut behind him. Your attention was on him, away from the shelf of his beloved cologne, hair comb, putty gel. The door was closed you were completely alone together. Susan might have been on the other side of the door, but you were chalking her up to useless in this situation. When you had examined your fresh fingerprint bruises in the mirror on Sunday morning, your mind let itself wonder if, maybe, Susan, too, wore sweaters to cover up Neil’s heavy-handed way of winning arguments.

I don’t want to be alone with you. I don’t love you anymore. I’m over it.

The words you managed to say in the hallway to him had been ringing from wall to wall in his head ever since lunch break. Billy felt brow beaten relentlessly by them and they only started to echo louder when he was looking over the contents that you had spilled over his bed top. His fingers rummaged through the contents, each thing sparking a memory great or small, and tightening an invisible grip over his exhausted heart.

“Why did you bring all this stuff over?” He asked to avoid the truth that was starting to light up in his brain. “I thought you just wanted some space…”

“I never said that.” Billy had been the one to toss the idea into the ring. “I said that I’m not your girlfriend anymore.” You let the support of your friends keep you strong, shoulders back and breathing in and out.

“I made you this. It’s the first thing I gave you.” Picking up a mixed tape from the top of the pile, the corner between his thumb and index finger, Billy reminded you. Burnin’ For You by Blue Oyster Cult was the first song on both sides of the tape as it had been playing the first time you two made out against his car. Billy had been pretending to be a gentleman and got out to walk you to your front door, but you met him at the door and pulled him in, surprising him with what he wanted badly. It was mostly music that he liked on the tape, but Promises in the Dark by Pat Benatar made an appearance because he figured you would like it and he was right. He had been sort of embarrassed by how much he liked you when he presented the cassette to you. Billy kept running his hand down his head and shrugging as he pulled it from the pocket of his jean jacket and gave it to you, dropping you off on a Friday after a late movie. Since you went on and on about how much you liked it, he was inspired to make a second five months  later.  “You should keep it.” He offered it to you, but you turned away and kept looking for things of yours in his room. Surely, he had some underwear somewhere or a lip gloss tube.

“I don’t want it.” Just like you had told Susan minutes ago, you muttered. Right now, the plan was simple: get your things and leave.

“I want you to have it. I made it for you.” Billy wanted to roar, to throw the tantrum that a toddler could only dream about in their racecar bed, but he held himself back with his feet planted on the floor and his heart stuck beating off tempo in his chest. It was impulsive reaction that put him in this awful situation.

When you ignored him, plucking two of your gold hoop earrings off his window sill and into the box, Billy resorted back to the pile of belongings on his bed. He put the cassette down and ran his hands over all the ripped up photos. He had to inhale a whistled breath through the thin gaps of his teeth. There had to have been over ten pictures that you were missing from, they were just Billy and blank spaces. It hurt. It actually felt like someone had stabbed him over and over in his belly.

“You don’t think we can work things out?” He asked you while roaming through the stuff, finding the necklace tangled and then laying it over the side of his hand so the pendant was flat against his palm. “We’ve put each other through shit before and just…” He sat on the edge of his bed, looking at the gold jewelry that he had done so much babysitting and household chores in order to buy. It had felt worth the bullshit his Dad wrangled him with at the time. He wanted to get you a nice birthday gift and through that, he did. “Come on, babe.” He looked up at you as you were going to the door, eyes hollowed out to make room for melancholy, and sighed into himself. “Can you, please, stay?” Where was this guy on Saturday? Why couldn’t Billy have expressed himself this way instead of tackling you like an opposing team’s linebacker.

“No.” It was Nancy’s voice in your head that made you say it. Your arms were flimsy under the mostly empty box and your heart was crying at you to put it down and run to him. “No, Billy. It’s done. You ended us.”

“That’s not true.” He refuted, clutching the necklace, and standing up to face you better. “I’m the one who wants to try and work shit out, you’re the one with a box full of stuff, leaving.” To him, it seemed obvious that you were the one who was ending things. If it was up to him, he would making the weekend up to you with a blanket in a bare field, his hands squeezing it’s way up your thighs, and sweet nothings in your ear.  “How is this fair to me?” It was such a typical Billy question that you couldn’t believe you didn’t see it coming.

“You? I’m the one hiding bruises from my friends and parents!” Putting down the box at your side, you shouted at him and rolled up your sleeves. He squinted at the sight of them just as he had looked ill the first time he spotted them in the hall, but you were going to make him look at them so he could understand the way you did that things had changed and could not go back to how they used to be. The point of no return had a mark and his fingerprints were it.  “If you want to fairness, we can talk fairness,  but you won’t like how that conversation goes!” Nancy’s voice was practically screeching in the corners of your mind now, telling you to leave. You were giving him too much.

Billy lunged forward, necklace held in one hand and the other hand flat, and kissed you as hard as he could. His fingers were on both sides of your face, holding you to him and trying to draw you in.  Your eyes held themselves open, alarmed, but you wiggled away and almost fell back with urgency, leaving Billy to stare at you with an open, wet mouth.

Both of you were trapped in the tension, so Billy took your silence as an okay and went in again. This time, he opened up his hand and tried to wrestle the necklace of your head, but you reached up and shoved him away by the wrists. The necklace spilled from his fingers and fell somewhere on the floor by his bed.

“No! Stop it!” Scolding him as if he was a puppy that kept trying to jump on you, your voice hit the turned off ceiling light right between both of you. “Stop it.” Again, you gasped. “We are done, Billy. You lost me.” He did it in a terrible fashion too, a way you never assumed would happen. “I never want to see you - “

“Never?” He scoffed at the hyperbolic term.

“I never want to hear you!” Over top of him, you kept going. “Don’t ever touch me again!”

“Never?” This time, he sounded sad. It was as if you two were in the hallway again, not in his house that he was used to having to be defensive in. “Tell me what to do, [Y/N/N], and I’ll do it. Please.” He begged, but it was far too little, too late. The sleeves of your top unrolled themselves to cover the end of your relationship and you turned your burning face away from him. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing you wanted him to do. “It was an accident!”

At the knees, you bent down to pick up the box and kept your eyes on his feet. If he was going to come close to you again, you wanted to be ready. Once standing up, you wrestled with your tongue on whether or not you should say 'goodbye’. Instead, you didn’t so much as look at him, you turned to your side and reached for the silver knob on his door in order to exit.

“Don’t leave.” His hand brushed up against the space on your back between the end of your shirt and waist of your jeans. Billy’s voice was weak, breaking in places, and he was clearly beginning to cry.

You still didn’t turn around, you shimmied your body to push away his touch, and opened up the door. On the other side, Susan and Max were pretending to be busy in the recreational space, fumbling their fingers over surfaces and looking off into corners. They had been listening to every word said between you two. Susan’s face looked soft and gutted for her step son. He was a wild child and she didn’t think that he would be able to get over this gracefully. It would sting him for a long time.

Looking away from them, you did turn to see Billy, his face without bruises, but very evidently beaten.

“Don’t touch me.” You sounded as firm as Neil when laying down the law and it hit Billy hard in the gut. Once you had moved out of Billy’s line of sight, he treated his bedroom like the locker from early and slammed it with all his might. It didn’t feel like enough, but he knew that Susan would have his Dad on his ass if he knocked it off it’s hinges. You were still slipping your shoes on when Metallica started to rock through the whole house, covering up the sounds of Billy throwing the stuff you returned and hating himself.

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