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sweets3rial · 9 months ago

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bubbles and cuddles

inspired by this request

id!leon x fem!reader

summary: you haven't seen your boyfriend in a while though luckily, after a long mission and an even longer day, you arrive home just in time. you spend the rest of the night loving on each other gently before falling asleep in each others arms.

tags: tooth-rotting fluff, domestic fluff, so smut, smutty innuendos, canon universe, lots of kissing, bubble bath, bathing each other, little to no dialogue, reader works at bsaa and leon works at dso, undressing each other, mentions of violence and injuries, infinite darkness or death island leon in mind

word count: 3.8k

your radio was blasting the loudest music to keep you in high spirits and also to keep your eyes from shutting. you exited the freeway and tears were pricking at your eyes from holding them open for so long. you just needed to get home. you needed to.

your whole body was sore. you could barely lift your arm without wincing in pain. the bruise on your shoulder was only getting worse.

it’s funny how the body works. on the field, you couldn’t feel any pain. a sting here and there but most of the time you were able to fight through it. but the minute you stepped off the field, it was like every bone in your body had been reduced to dust.

the adrenaline was no longer running and your brain could finally rest, leaving your body in shambles.

the nurses said there was nothing wrong. A dislocated shoulder that they popped right back in was all they needed to do, now your shoulder is swollen, your blood busy on healing that certain area which left you light-headed and extremely exhausted.

it was rare that you and your boyfriend were put on the field at the same time. though, he works in a different division under the government. his job was similar to yours, keep the bioterrorists from spreading, investigate the area, eliminate anything infected, and report back to the higher-ups what you found in extreme detail.

you haven’t had time to sit down and spend a full night with your boyfriend in over a month. it was like the minute one of you got home the other had to leave, whether it was for a meeting, a mission, or just to be in the office as backup.

it was a constant cycle. you went home to sleep and awoke to go to work. it was on the clockwork. the minute you got a call, there was no ‘five more minutes’ or ‘i’ll just call out’. you had to get up and go or else lives would be lost.

it’s a cruel world you lived in, one that many many people weren’t aware of.

you smelt of blood, shit, and piss. your hair was oily and frizzy, it hurt to breathe, you could still taste the ash in your mouth, and gunpowder had made its way underneath your nails.

you couldn’t wait to get home; to your bed, to food, to safety, to peace. you couldn’t wait to get home to your boyfriend, the love of your life.

you couldn’t wait to cuddle into his warm arms and press your skin against his. he was your home, your escape from all the piss and shit in the world. he was your comfort, his embrace was like a barrier to you and the only person who protected you when you weren’t protecting yourself.

you could let your guard down around him. you could sink into him and cry, you could cry and sob in his arms and all he did was comfort you.

Leon was everything you wanted in a man, not only is he the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on, but he was also such a great partner. he is caring and sweet, he’s structured, intuitive, and organized, he’s dedicated to his work and getting the job done and well he has humor.

he’s a bit sarcastic and cocky at times but all it does is make you laugh.

he’s intelligent, coordinated, and a great observer.

you truly believe you fell in love with him because of how he is on the field. the one time you two coincidentally ended up on the same terrain at the same time and when you truly got to see him at his full potential is when you knew you were falling for your coworker, basically.

he was quick. his eyes constantly moving, taking hints and notes of every movement around him. he was able to observe and analyze, which is why you couldn’t hide anything from him.

he knew what was wrong with you from one glance. he could read you like a book. he could see the pain, the sadness, the hurt. it got even worse as your relationship grew.

he took note of your behaviors and your words, what you did and said when you were upset. even the tone of your voice. you couldn’t lie to him, you were forced to communicate with him because he wouldn’t leave you alone until you told him what was wrong.

that’s why you love him. there were so many other reasons. you could go on a tangent as to how and why you fell in love with the D.S.O’s golden boy.

you turned the radio down as you pulled into your neighborhood, your fingertips itching to reach home.

it was late and quiet. the sky was clear and deep indigo color, letting the stars gleam to their full potential. the moon was full and you could see every crater from where you sat in the driver's seat.

the streets were lit up with the moonlight, a blue hue casting down onto the sidewalk and the roofs of the houses.

no one was awake, not even the stray cats, it was still and silent.

as soon as you pulled into your driveway, you could care less about how you parked and whether the car alarm was on or not. you stumbled out of your car heels in hand and made your way towards your door.

to your luck, just a few steps, the sound of a puttering motor was heard down the street. you knew that sound anywhere. who else would be zooming down the street loudly this late at night?

you couldn’t help the smile that arose on your cheeks as you turned to see your boyfriend just turning onto your block.

of course, he had no helmet on. even after telling him multiple times to wear one. he always shrugged it off and said he was fine. though you were always worried, there’s been many many times that he’s crashed and destroyed his previous bikes.

you were scared that one day it’ll be his head next.

his deep brown hair was whipping in the wind, his eyebrows furrowed to keep himself from falling asleep and he was gripping the handlebars with pure impatience. he needed to get home.

once he caught eye of your car and then your figure standing in the dark cold night, he couldn’t help but go faster. the sight of you eased every muscle in his body.

he needed to get to you and make sure you were okay. he was glad to see you standing on your two feet, home, and safe.

though you were wearing a thin white button-up, the sleeves rolled up and some buttons undone. in this shirt, you could move easily in and even though he loved the way it clung to your figure, he also wished you wore something warmer.

he’s told you many times to wear something thicker that way you didn’t come home sick. but you insisted on wearing something that gave you easy mobility.

guess you’re both stubborn.

there you were, standing with a hazy smile on your lips, holding your shoulder and slowly dragging yourself towards the end of the driveway to meet him.

he carefully pulled into the driveway and next to you. his heart filled with warmth as he got a faint whiff of your perfume. he put his kickstand down as he put a stop to the engine.

he couldn’t wait to hold you and kiss you. he could tell from the look on your face and the way you were carrying yourself, you were exhausted.

your body practically slumped into his and a heavy sigh left your lips. he ran his hand up and down your back and lifted you onto his lap, being weary of your legs making sure they wouldn’t burn on the pipes.

you wrapped your arms around him and went weak in his embrace. god, you needed this. you missed being held by him.

he guided your legs around his waist, rubbing his gloved palm up and down the skin of your thigh soothingly. no words needed to be exchanged as he lifted both of you up and off the motorcycle and over towards the front door.

you were glued to him, holding him tightly as he carried you up the porch steps. you nuzzled yourself further into the crook of his neck and took a deep breath of his cologne. it was such a comforting smell.

warm cedarwood, fresh pine, and hints of sweet vanilla. his shampoo smelt fresh like mint along with the scent of his gel and sweat.

one arm held you close to him while the other worked on getting the door open once he stepped inside, you hauled yourself onto him and the tip of your toes. you kept your hands on his shoulders, roughly massaging his tense muscles, ignoring your pain, and looking into his eyes.

bloodshot and glossy with heavy bags. he melted into your touch, eyes fluttering shut and a sigh leaving his lips. both of you had a long long day.

there were no words that needed to be exchanged, you walked backward as he walked towards you. your hands went from his shoulders to his zipper. slowly undoing his leather jacket until you could see his plain navy blue t-shirt underneath.

he shrugged his jacket off letting it fall at his feet. as you took a step backward onto the stairs, he wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you close to him.

he nuzzled his face into your chest, placing soft kisses on your skin. his hands traveled up and down your back, feeling at your figure. your shoulder blades, your spinal groove, the curve of your ass. he just wanted to feel you.

he caught the way you winced as he squeezed you closer to him and he loosened his hold on you.

no one knows how much he missed you, how much he missed holding you, and the feel of your skin against his. he was glad he got home when did, if not, you would probably already be asleep.

he looked up at you, his chin buried in your cleavage. you brought your nose to his, nuzzling them together and sucking in a deep breath from your nose. god, you missed him.

you brought your lips to his in a deep and passionate kiss, spilling all the words in your heart to him, all the lonely late night and all the bad days, all the words you never got to say while he was gone, and all the words you wished to say.

his hands traveled from your back, around to your stomach, and up toward the buttons of your shirt. he slowly began unbuttoning each one, he wasn’t in any rush and he wasn’t undressing you out of lust, he just wanted to feel you.

he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, begging you to pry your mouth open so he could taste you. your legs went weak at the feeling of his warm tongue against yours and his hands slowly peeling your shirt off of your skin.

he threw it somewhere onto the steps, keeping his mouth on yours as he took a step forwards which further urged you to continue up the stairs.

you two slowly undressed each other as you made your way to the bathroom, neither of you daring to pull away from your kiss.

by the time you two got to the bathroom, he was left in his boxers and you were left in your underwear. your arms were wrapped around him, your body pressing closer and closer to his. he was all yours tonight, there were no missions or meetings or phone calls.

it was just you and him.

you turned around briefly, leaving his lips with a wet smack, bending over into the bathtub, and then turning the faucet on. the sound of water pouring into the bath drowned out the sound of heavy pants.

you shut the drain and reached for the jasmine bubble mixture sitting on the side of the tub. meanwhile, he was busy walking up behind you and rubbing up and down your sides. you stood up straight, leaning into his touch as you poured bubbles into the warm water.

he brought his head down onto your shoulder, kissing your bruised skin before slowly making his way up your neck and to your ear. his arms wrapped around you once again, pulling your back closer to his chest.

“missed you,” he whispered into your ear, playing with the hem of your panties.

“i missed you more,” you sighed out blissfully as you turned around to face him.

in a split second, your lips were on his again, teeth clashing and tongues morphing together. he worked you out of your panties as you worked him out of his boxers. his hands found their way under the purchase of your ass, giving your cheek a nice slap — prompting you to jump.

so you did, wrapping your legs around his torso and locking your ankles together. he stepped into the tub, the bubbles tickling his skin and the warm water soothing his sore muscles.

he slowly sat down in the water, more focused on keeping up with your pace. he could tell how much you missed him, you were kissing him without pulling away for a breath and you were clinging onto him like a koala would do with its mother.

your bodies were slowly succumbed by the soapy water, the smell of jasmine in the air, and the sound of smacking lips echoing off the walls. his hands traveled up your back, one hand working on splashing your back with water, rubbing the soap into your skin, and massaging your spine. the other hand worked on holding the back of your neck, keeping your lips pressed to his.

your fingers tangled themselves into his hair, scratching and rubbing at his scalp which earned you a satisfied moan. he pulled away briefly, throwing his head back and against the back of the tub.

you lifted yourself off of his lap and turned around to shut off the water. the water shut off with a squeak, a few stray drops escaping into the heap of bubbles and then there was silence. you leaned back against his chest, the water and bubbles covering your chest and ticking your chin.

he let his heavy arms come over your unwounded shoulder, his hands searching for yours in the water and eventually he found them. slowly gathering each of your fingers and intertwining them with yours.

you leaned your head back against his chest, shutting your eyes and letting out a sigh. you could hear the water sploosh and splash as he reached over for the washcloth at his side. he dipped it into the water, soaking it with the soapy water before lifting your arm.

he brought the warm cloth to your arm, continuing to place kisses on your shoulder and he washed your skin. he gently lathered the soap into your skin, even if he was exhausted he was never tired to help you.

he continued to lather your body, wiping away at the sweat and grime, kissing at the cuts, and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. his breath was hot and heavy, his words were like lullabies and his voice was like a drug.

you sank further into him, close to passing out until you remembered you needed to wash him too. you reached for a spare cloth, copying his actions and dipping it into the water. you turned to face him, straddling his lap and sitting on his thighs.

you placed a lazy kiss onto his lips bringing the cloth to his neck. you lathered at his shoulders while he lathered your back. your bodies stayed pressed together, not a single inch of space between you two.

he pressed kisses to your collarbone, not wanting to leave your embrace for a second, his body chased yours when you leaned away, his lips stayed on your skin and his eyes glued to yours.

it was moments like this you treasured the most. skin to skin and nothing but love. slow tender touches and silence. you two could be comfortable with each other without saying a word, every touch and every kiss spoke for itself.

the water had slowly become less warm, now murky from the dirt and grime that had stuck to your skin. he reached for the drain, unplugging it and letting the murky water drain.

both of you stood up at the same time, supporting each other as you stood to your feet. Leon turned on the faucet and switched the water to the shower head. you loved baths but everyone knew marinating in your bath water wasn’t ideally hygienic.

so, for the next twenty minutes you and Leon sat under the running water and at this point, the weariness was getting to you both. your eyelids felt heavy and your body was ready to shut down. a yawn left your lips and you leaned your head against Leon's chest.

“sleepy?”

you replied with a nod and he hummed, nuzzling his nose into your wet scalp and placing a kiss at your hairline. he wrapped one arm around your waist while the other reached to the faucet. he turned it off with a loud squeak.

silence filled the room, and only the stray droplets of water were heard. steam gathered at the roof, heavy with the scent of jasmine and citrus. you stepped out of the shower, your boyfriend not too far behind. he reached for your towel, fluffing it out in his hands before turning to you.

your arms were crossed over your chest, your teeth clattering and your shoulders bouncing up and down. he chuckled a bit, he found it cute.

he pressed the towel to your cheeks, squishing them together and intently puckering your lips for him to bend down and place a warm kiss on your lips. he continued drying you off, pressing the warm towel into your body until your skin was completely dry.

he scrunched at the ends of your hair, catching any stray droplets that fell onto your skin. meanwhile, he was pressing kisses to your face.

on your eyelids and brows, to the cold tip of your nose, to your soft cheeks, your chin, and the tips of your ears. he treasured every inch of you and his lips on your skin only lulled you deeper into a daze. you wanted to sleep so bad.

but you couldn’t leave him wet and cold. you reached for another spare towel, doing the same, squishing his cheeks and bringing your lips to his. he couldn’t help but smile against your lips, wrapping the towel around your neck and tugging you closer.

his lips moved against yours in perfect sync, he knew what you liked - a slow and passionate pace. he sucked at your tongue, moaning at your minty taste. he had you backed up into the wall, hands at your hips pressing you closer against his half-hard cock.

his lips left your tongue and then his teeth went to pull at your bottom lip. he knew exactly how to get you riled up. if you weren’t so tired, you would’ve fucked him so so long ago.

“let’s get you to bed, hun.” he hummed, you nodded in agreement, wrapping the towel over his wet hair like a hoodie and tugging at each side to pull him back towards your lips. you left a quick kiss on his lips before turning to leave the bathroom.

your bed was the same way as you left it. undone with blankets and pillows thrown everywhere. you didn’t care to get dressed, you needed to sleep naked, damp and all.

you slid into bed, your limbs completely giving out on trying to carry your weight. Leon watched you slump into bed, he wasn’t so far behind. he crawled in after you, chasing the warmth of your body.

you both got situated under the covers, rubbing each other's legs against one another - his hairy ones and your smooth ones. you couldn’t help but chuckle at the feeling. your bed was warm and soft and his arm draped over your side was heavy and secure.

you were at home. this is what you missed the most. him. even if you were sleeping on the cold streets as long as you had Leon, it was home.

home for you was wherever he was.

you nuzzled yourself into his chest, moaning comfortably as you entangled your legs further with his. your left thigh onto top of his and then your right on top of his other. he held the back of your head securely against his chest, massaging your scalp with the pads of his fingers.

you shivered, it was that feeling when you were so comfortable and so soothed to the point you just quivered. a small laugh erupted from his chest and then his lips found your forehead.

“get some rest, hun,” he whispered to you deeply. his command for you to fall asleep was like a switch. your body felt heavier as if it was sinking into the mattress, you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. your body was slowly succumbing into a deep sleep.

Leon waited for your heavy breaths to begin, he continued massaging your scalp and peppering kisses onto your skin. he wanted to wait to fall asleep, he finally has you in his arms after a very very long week. he isn’t going to waste a second.

he took a moment to admire your sleeping state, cheek squished against his bicep, damp hair splayed out onto the pillow above you, and lips agape. you sucked in deep heavy breaths, your chest pressing against his with every inhale, then falling with a light snore.

he tucked some of your hair behind your ear, away from sticking to your cheek. he ran his thumb over your eyebrow then over your lashes, careful not to bother your sleep. though, he was sure if the house collapsed you wouldn’t even budge.

your eyelids fluttered at his touch, your lashes tickling your cheek as you did so. he placed one last final kiss on your nose before turning away to yawn.

he rested his head back down against the pillow, further nuzzling himself against your naked body.

his limbs were becoming heavy. his eyes fluttering shut and the last thing he saw before he fell asleep was you.

the beautiful face that he would later wake up to. though for now, he’ll dream of you and what the future holds for you two. he’ll dream of a happy life with you away from the city, a dog or cat, children, and the weight of a ring on both of your fingers.

he’ll dream of your warm smile and your voice, your touch and your love. he’ll dream and dream until he has to wake up to reality. but at least that reality was with you by his side.

(divder cred to @saradika,, pics from pinterest)

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon scott kennedy #death island leon

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fangirlingpuggle · 2 months ago

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Very silly DP AU idea/fic prompt where since Danny is the ghost king technically both Dan and Dani also are.

The observants aren't sure what to do since clones and evil now destroyed future versions of current king has never been an issue before...they blame clockwork for all of this.

Danny: I don't want to be ghost king

Dan:I'll be ghost king

Danny: I-Wha no I'm the one who beat Pariah

Dan:Oh come on i totally could have beaten him besides I already had control of ghost zone

Danny:In the evil future, it was awful

Dan:Eh that's your opinion

Danny:No way

Observants: SO you are accepting being ghost king

Danny:No

Dani:I'LL DO IT

Danny:NO!

Just the 3 of them all technically being in charge and when ever they give conflicting orders ghosts being really confused no idea who to listen to.

Fright Knight being loyal to crown to loyal to 3 of them. He ends up mostly babysitting Dani (He has attended tea parties...many tea parties) she's also in ghost zone most so she's the one has to deal with observants...Clockwork is loving this and happily playing advisor (mostly helping Dani piss them off)

Fright knight also being very attached: I have known Dani for a day and if anything happens to her I am destroying the entire ghost zone and then myself .

Vlad's eye is twitching he tried so hard for power and now he is the only Halfa whose not basically royalty.

#danny phantom #dp #dp au #au #fic prompt #ghost king danny #dani #dani phantom #dan phantom #danny fenton #clockwork #the observants #humor

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composing-birdsong · 6 months ago

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[LOG 001]

I’m not exactly sure how to start writing this, so I guess I’ll just say whatever comes to mind.

Do you know how difficult it is writing this with one eye? Maybe if I still have this journal in a few months, I’ll get to see if I improve once I’m more used to it.

If I’m still alive.

Honestly I don’t know why I’m writing this. I’ve never found a point in journaling before, but apparently it’s good for mental health and if I’m in this hell, I’ll take whatever I can get.

Clockwork Present (maybe I’ll just say Clockwork) is… I don’t know. He’s an asshole but he’s also oddly nice to me. He didn’t have to bring me back. He said that himself.

But he did. And apparently I have something to do for him. He refuses to say what and it’s pissing me off, but I suppose I owe him. So I’ll do it.

He hasn’t given me an answer. When I asked what happened to Gabriel, when I met Clockwork after my death. He shrugged.

I miss my son.

It’s all my fault. If I had just gotten my act together and said something to her sooner, maybe none of this would have had to happen. Maybe in another world, Gabriel is alive and I’m alive too, and I get to try to make it up to him. I’d give my whole life to try again, I really would. If he wanted me to.

If he never wanted to see me again, I suppose that would be fine also. I wish he would let me, but I’m not going to make him.

It’s been nearly three years. I still don’t know what killed him. Dory didn’t even know what killed him. He’s gone and if I had just been better I’d have been able to help. I don’t know. He’d have been nineteen now.

I can’t keep thinking about him. As nice as it was for Clockwork to bring me back, he didn’t bring back my other wing. Among many other things, it means I have no more chances.

If I die, I die.

And this world wants me dead.

Yesterday, I decided I was going to try studying it. If Gabriel was here, I think he’d do the same. And it’s also just. weird? I guess? I don’t have any better way to describe it. Everything… shifts. On a whim. I don’t think this world is exactly right either. It just doesn’t sit right with me, and the several near death experiences sure aren’t helping.

I don’t have too many observations right now. I was never a scientist, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do this, but I’ll probably use this journal to document anything else. I’ll see if I want to write more personal entries too, but maybe this is just a one time thing.

Either way, it’s been nice to get things out of my head a bit, so I don’t regret this.

[End of Log 001]

#birdsong #birdlogs #<- yeah sure I’ll tag it as that #brian aurum #long post

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reallydumbdannyphantomaus · 2 years ago

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Reset

chapter 2 babes! i'm thinking this will only be like 10 chaps. anyway, enjoy! (ao3) (1)

Chapter 2

Loop 2

Jazz pounded on his door. “Danny, if you’re not ready in 15 minutes, you can take the bus to school! I’m not waiting!”

A time loop. A goddamn time loop. This would happen to him.

Danny sat up, resting a hand on his chin. He and Sam and Tucker had talked about time loops before, what they would do, but that was mostly focused on the Groundhog Day type of loop, where the day being repeated is otherwise innocuous. This loop, on the other hand…

The end of the world. Or, at least, the end of Casper High. That’s what would happen sometime around the end of the school day today.

“Okay,” he said. “What do I know?”

Well, it was ghost related. Figures, really, in the ghost capital of the world, but his ghost sense went off right before the explosion in both loops.

Differences between the loops? Well, the obvious one was that Paulina and Valerie didn’t fight in English, but did that mean they were in the loop, too? Or had one of the subtle changes he’d made throughout the day change that part as well?

It didn’t matter, he supposed. If Paulina was in the loop, she’d be useless. Valerie could be helpful, but he’d almost certainly need to be Phantom for some of this and that always made working with Valerie difficult. Best course of action was to contact Sam and Tucker, let them know what was going on, then investigate what the threat was and stop it before it got there.

Simple.

He pulled out his phone and sent out a quick text.

To: Sam, Tucker

hey so i think im in a time loop

From: Sam

for real???

From: Tucker

????

To: Sam, Tucker

yeah i lived today twice already. the bad news is that the day keeps ending with the school exploding

From: Tucker

WHAT

danny I’m too young to die

To: Sam, Tucker

been there done that

From: Tucker

To: Sam, Tucker

anyway its got smthn to do with ghosts so im taking the day to investigate

any ideas?

From: Sam

go to clockwork dude

To: Sam, Tucker

OH YEAH

time ghost

this is why youre the smart one

ill let u know how it goes

From: Tucker

good luck dude

don’t die again

From: Sam

let us know if u need anything

Danny locked his phone, then sent Jazz a quick text that he had a ghost problem to deal with before transforming and sinking through the floor of his room, all the way down to his parents’ lab.

Whenever he went into the ghost zone, it always took him the better part of an hour to adjust to all the green. It was overwhelming in its ubiquity and too long of an excursion always left him with a headache. He understood the ghosts invading Amity Park a little better each time he visited.

Clockwork’s lair was at the far end of the zone, away from most other ghosts. Clockwork had once told him that this was a restriction placed on him to keep him from being too powerful, one of many. The Observants were in charge of making sure Clockwork didn’t go rogue and shape the world to his liking, limiting how often he could affect the time stream, in what ways, for what purpose. Clockwork, for all his power, was a prisoner.

(“That’s ridiculous,” Danny had said. “You’re out here trying to save the world and preserve the timeline.”

Clockwork looked away. “I wasn’t always.”

Danny didn’t ask.)

So when he approached Clockwork’s lair, only to be rebuffed by a shimmering force field, he wasn’t surprised. Upset? Yes. Concerned? Yes. Afraid? Obviously. But after all of Clockwork’s meddling during the Dan fiasco, the Observants had been extra cautious about not allowing him to interfere.

The Observants would let the world end to ensure Clockwork was punished, it seemed.

Danny frowned. No, that didn’t make sense. Clockwork had been ordered to kill him once, to save the world. What pissed the Observants off was that he’d instead chosen to save both the world and Danny. So maybe then this time loop was enough for him to save the world, but the Observants didn’t want Clockwork to meddle any more than that? Or something like that, anyway.

Ugh. Why did everything involving Clockwork have to be so cryptic and complicated?

“Now what?” he said.

He wasn’t any closer to figuring out what was going on. He was alone in the middle of the ghost zone, no allies in sight, enemies sure to find him soon…

Wait. Enemies?

Danny scanned the area. Sure enough, no one was around. This was normal for Clockwork’s domain, but he usually had to fight someone on the way from the portal to here. Skulker chased him past the Infinite Vortex. Johnny 13 tried to get him to smoke with him. Ember wanted to test out her new songs on him. Frostbite wanted to hang out.

He’d seen no one. The ghost zone was a ghost town.

He held his breath and listened for the sound of someone. Anyone.

In the distance, he heard what sounded like marching.

When he flew toward it, he recognized the direction he was heading in. It took him ten minutes worth of flying before he placed it, though, and he could only hope he was wrong.

As the sound got louder, he knew he wasn’t.

“Oh no,” he said as he approached Pariah’s Keep. “Oh fuck.”

Thousands of skeleton ghosts—Pariah’s army—stood and thudded their swords into their shields as they strode forward in organized units. Above them, from the balcony of his castle, stood Pariah Dark himself, Ring of Rage on his hand but Crown of Fire nowhere to be found. Small mercies.

Behind him knelt the Fright Knight. Last Danny had heard, the Fright Knight was working with Vlad, and yet, here he was with his old master.

This was bad. This was all very, very bad.

“Intruder!” The cry rang out from the assembled army. Danny jolted as a number of the skeletons reached out and pointed at his hiding place. “Intruder!”

“Kill the interloper, Knight.” Pariah’s voice never rose in pitch, yet it carried itself across the battlefield and settled itself as a knot of ice in Danny’s spine. He’d barely survived the last fight with Pariah when he’d had the exoskeleton and the rest of the ghost zone on his side. What chance did he have now?

Danny turned and fled.

Right into the Fright Knight’s sword.

“Sorry, ghost brat,” the Fright Knight said, twisting the sword in Danny’s chest. Danny choked on blood and ectoplasm. “But I don’t have time to play with you today.”

The world faded out again.

“Val, I’m heading to bed. Have a good day at school, sweetheart. I’ll see you for dinner? My shift starts at 8, can you be home in time?”

Valerie drew in ragged breaths. It happened again. She’d seen the world—or at least Casper High—get blown up twice now. That was too real to be a dream. She—everyone had—

“Valerie?” her dad said. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” she said, forcing the word through her tight throat. Then again, loud enough for Dad to hear. “Yeah! Sorry, I’ll, uh, I’ll be home for dinner.”

“Good. Good morning!”

Valerie choked down a sob. “Good morning, Dad.”

Valerie gave herself one minute after her Dad closed the door to his bedroom to freak out. One minute to cry and lose her mind. Once the clock on her beside ticked over to 7:18, she took deep breaths, wiped down her eyes, and got to business.

What did she know? She pulled out the dream journal she kept by her bed and turned to an empty page. Sometime during the last class of the day, Casper High would be attacked. This last loop saw her in the classroom instead of outside the principal’s office, so she saw the green glow approach just before the end. Ghosts, then. It was always ghosts, wasn’t it?

The first time, Paulina had started a fight with her. The second time, that didn’t happen. Had she somehow changed the outcome just by knowing what was going to happen? Or was Paulina stuck in a loop with her?

Valerie groaned. As useful as it might be to have some help with whatever was going on, she half-hoped that Paulina wasn’t involved. Her ex-friend wasn’t exactly at the top of the list of “People She’d Like To Be In A Time Loop With” after all.

She chewed on her lip. However, if Paulina was in the loop, it could mean that Danny was, too. They were all in the same place during the first loop; could all three of them be in this together? If so, it might even be worth dealing with Paulina. Danny was easily in the top three of her time loop list, right there with her dad and Star. Maybe the two of them could work together and let Paulina do whatever.

She stopped writing. This was all speculative now. The best way to figure anything out was to head to school. If Danny and Paulina remembered, they were bound to be acting strange.

She started to take off her Dumpty Humpty sleep shirt, then paused. What better way to signal to anyone else caught in the loop that she was stuck too than coming to school in her pajamas? It stuck out enough that someone reliving the same day would definitely notice her. Plus, it would save her some time.

So, instead of showering and changing, she swiped under her pits with deodorant and headed off to school.

Neither Paulina nor Danny were in school today.

On the plus side, that pretty much confirmed that they were stuck in the loop. They hadn’t missed the last two loops, after all. On the downside, now she looked like an idiot for no reason.

She didn’t even realize that they weren’t there until lunchtime. It wasn’t like she shared a lot of classes with them, and she didn’t have their schedules memorized. Only once she saw Tucker and Sam eating alone, Dash and Kwan laughing with Star, but not Paulina, did she realize that they weren’t there. She hit herself in the forehead. Of course. If you keep reliving the school blowing up, you’ll probably avoid the school. That made sense. It wouldn’t work, of course, but it made sense.

She should go check on Danny. The poor guy was terrified of ghosts; reliving a deadly ghost attack must be his worst nightmare.

After fifth period, she slipped out the back door of the school, summoned her Red Huntress suit to the surface, and zoomed toward FentonWorks.

She slowed as she neared the building, always easy to spot with the hulking metal contraption on top (Danny said it was the Ops Center; Valerie said it was ugly as sin). Peeking through the downstairs window, she spotted Dr. Maddie Fenton welding something at a workstation in the kitchen while Dr. Jack Fenton helped himself to a massive ham sandwich.

No sign of Danny.

She hovered up to the window outside his room. It was dark inside; she couldn’t make out if the shape on his bed was just his covers or if he was huddled inside. She rapped her knuckles on the windowpane. No response.

There wasn’t time for this.

She yanked the window up, busting the lock. The suit really was amazing; she’d never been so strong before. Slipping inside, she could see that the bed was, in fact, empty. Oh well. The window would be fixed when the loop reset.

“Where could he be?” she whispered to herself. Not upstairs, not downstairs.

Maybe… the basement?

She opened Danny’s door and slunk through the hallway, hugging the shadows and stepping toe-to-foot to muffle her footsteps. She needn’t have worried: a horde of elephants trampling through their living room wouldn’t have distracted the Fentons from their work.

She crept down the stairs into the Fentons’ infamous lab, lit by the same green glow that preceded the explosion in the last loop. Danny was, again, nowhere to be found.

Did he leave? Just… run away? No. He wouldn’t have left his family behind. He wouldn’t have left Sam and Tucker behind to die.

Would he?

As she turned to leave the basement, she heard a clattering sound behind her. Spinning back around, she saw skeletons, a horde of skeleton warriors, crawling out of the open portal.

She would deny it to the day she died for real, but she did scream.

She pulled out her ecto gun and began blasting away, but there were too many of them. Soon, she was overpowered, trampled under the boots of long-dead soldiers called to fight again.

One of them stepped on her head. She heard a squish and then there was nothing.

Paulina didn’t want to go to school.

School was going to blow up anyway, and there was no point in her getting blown up with everyone else. It wasn’t even a bomb or anything; no, it was a ghost attack, of-fucking-course. It wasn’t like she could do anything to stop it.

So she was staying home. It’s not like there was anyone else here to notice.

She texted Dash, Kwan, and Star and told them not to go to school. They asked why. She couldn’t think of a good answer. Not one they’d believe. She said she was sick and needed company. Star said she couldn’t afford another absence. Dash said he had a really important presentation today that he couldn’t miss. Kwan said he had something special planned today. They all promised to come visit after school.

Idiots. There wouldn’t be an after.

She laid in bed, feeling sorry for herself, eating a tub of low-fat sugar-free frozen yogurt and watching shitty romcoms on Netflix. Not for the first time, she found herself fantasizing about a bowl of real Rocky Road ice cream, but Alma was on strict orders from Paulina’s mother not to let anything with sugar in the house.

The hours passed slowly. Sam and Austin drove off to Princeton. The dancer learned to be true to herself and open to love. One of them had a bear, she was pretty sure. Maybe?

She dozed off at some point. When she woke up, her back was starting to hurt from laying horizontal for so long. She ate more disgusting frozen yogurt. She watched a game show that she forgot the premise of immediately. Looked at the clock. It was almost 3:00. It would be soon.

She threw up her frozen yogurt in the toilet.

Her friends were going to die.

Then she heard it. A boom so loud and powerful it shook the foundation of her house. Tears slipped out of her eyes.

“Oh god. Oh god. No. No!”

She looked out her window. In the streets, glowing skeletons marched, killing anyone who stood in their way. She watched as dozens of the idiotic agents of the Guys In White flew in on their ridiculous jetpacks and began firing away. But for each skeletal soldier that fell, five more took their place. The agents were soon overwhelmed, dragged down to Earth and ripped apart.

Paulina threw up again, this time on the floor. She was screaming and crying, she knew, but it all felt distant. Like it was happening to someone else. Like the skeleton breaking down her door wasn’t coming for her, but some other Paulina.

When they cut off her head, she didn’t feel a thing.

#danny phantom #valerie gray #paulina sanchez #danny fenton #dp fanfic #my fic #time loop fic #reset #hehehehhehheheheeeheehehehe.

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maskedemerald · 2 years ago

Text

Rite of Order

Ectober Haunt Prompt: Order

Warnings: Body Horror, Mind Manipulation, Mind Alteration

The Observants try to remove Danny from the list of potential candidates for King before he completes any more of the Rites, this backfires on them. If anyone asked after, the Observants would insist that it didn’t happen. Definitely not, after all it was a very embarrassing situation for them.

This is part of the Rites of Kingship Series

Read below or on Ao3

If anyone asked after, the Observants would insist that it didn’t happen. Definitely not, after all it was a very embarrassing situation for them.

“Do try to have fun Daniel.” That was what Clockwork had said. No context to the ominous statement given. Danny had only just pulled open the door to the tower, heading home after one of their training sessions. Slowly he was getting better with the portal power.

Danny looked back at Clockwork who floated over by their Time Windows, a smirk on their face that said fun was the opposite of what Danny was going to have (or maybe it would at least be fun in the aftermath). Maybe even just fun for Clockwork. He sighed, “You’re not going to tell me what you mean by that are you?”

Clockwork just shook their head. He had expected that, Clockwork could be very cryptic after all. There was little point trying to get more out of him and the sooner he left the sooner he would be home despite whatever crap was going to happen along the way. He was so going to be grounded. Back to practicing in the basement with his parents watching every move, waiting for Clockwork’s nonexistent other shoe to drop. He had worked so hard to convince them that he’d be fine at the tower.

Danny flew quickly through the familiar parts of the zone, ignoring anything that caught his curiosity, hoping that he might just be able to prove Clockwork wrong. Impossible and he knew it. Honestly, he wished (in his head only) that he was better with making portals. Yes, he could probably make a portal to get home faster but controlling its exact destination was hard. Not to mention place in time, the last thing he needed was being late because he accidentally made a portal to next week.

He remembered that one time an ectoblast had shot through a portal he had made. It closed instantly in his shock; he had wondered if he had accidentally pissed off a ghost. Then days later he heard his Dad yelling, “GHOST!” and shooting. Turned out a portal had opened suddenly in the basement before vanishing.

Thinking of ghosts, there was one in front of him now. He dropped trying to fly around whoever it was, he’d rather avoid a fight. Only to find another, and another. He was surrounded, surrounded by… observants.

Danny groaned. “Seriously, how is this meant to be fun? What do you over evolved eyeballs want?”

“Impudent child!” One of them shrieked.

“You are no longer free to continue your meddling in zone affairs. You will be detained indefinitely.” Another answered.

“Yeah, not happening.” Danny said, his hands ignited ready for a fight.

The observants closed in, limbs grabbing for him. He blasted and tried to keep them away, but they just seemed to keep coming. He had to wonder if they were somehow infinite. He needed to get out of there, a week late was preferable. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to open a portal when he was already tired from training. The portal sputtered and vanished. He was captured.

______________________________________________________________

Danny scowled at the walls of the small room they’d stuffed him in. They were covered in engravings of eyes that he wondered if they could use to watch him. “Seriously Clockwork how is this meant to be fun.” He grumbled.

The door had blended in with the carved wall that he only knew was there because he saw it close. He sighed frustratedly as he sat up from where he had been lying on the floor, time to try and find a way out. He floated over to the wall and tried phasing; he didn’t think it would work. It didn’t. Turning human should but at the same time they couldn’t be that dense could they, to have not thought about that would be a new level of stupid for beings that were meant to see so much. He doubted they actually saw everything, so it was worth a check. He hadn’t expected to just fall through the floor the moment he turned human.

Danny yelped and quickly changed back; he hovered in an unfamiliar corridor of the observatory. He was out but he had no idea where he was. He started floating in a random direction, looking for windows or some other sign of where he was. It wasn’t long before he floated round a corner to find himself face to face with an observant.

“You!” The Observant shouted. “The prisoner is loose!”

Danny dodged the observants as more appeared and ducked round a corner. Hurtling through corridors to find an exit before they caught up with him in enough numbers. A grand door loomed ahead, it stood easily a few stories tall and was an almost perfect shade of white, completely blank and devoid of carvings. It definitely looked like a ‘Grand Entrance’ to Danny. He quickly pulled open the door and dove through without looking. He really should have looked.

There was a room beyond or at least there was for a moment. White walls of a perfect cube, he wasn’t sure how he knew that, but it felt almost uncanny. He whipped round to go back; he didn’t want to get cornered in there. The door dissolved before his eyes, becoming nothing more than white wall, then the visible edges vanished till it was just empty white. He frowned, was this another prison? Had they tricked him to get him here? Had this been the plan?

He tried to float towards the wall, or at least where it should be. He wasn’t even sure though if he was moving or if the space was infinite. He sped up only to hit something he couldn’t see. Soft, not a wall, it gave as he hit it and he tumbled. Invisible threads catching on him, tangling around him.

“Ugh what? Please tell me there isn’t a ghost spider in here.” It was half a joke, as the threads seemed to stick.

As he tried to untangle himself it only got worse. The threads wouldn’t break, and each movement tangled him further. He couldn’t phase through it in either human or ghost form.

Before long he was so tangled that he couldn't move. Strings kept him in place. No, he moved. Not because he wanted to. The strings would shift and pull, arranging him. Pulling him deeper, going deeper into him. Things that shouldn't shift did, rearranging. Thoughts slid against each other, it felt wrong. He was panicking but there was no struggling now. Then suddenly, perceptions shifted, and he didn't want to. Didn't need to. He relaxed, content to let the strings do their work. A human part of him said this wasn't right, he shouldn't think like this. Then it too was gone, concerns realigned.

The strings dissolved but he didn’t move, this was where he was meant to be. He lay there as the walls of the room faded back in. As the door reappeared. The Observants burst through the door yelling indignantly. They glared at him.

“How dare you…” One snarled.

“How did the abomination even get in here? Wasn’t it meant to be guarded?”

“Never mind how, think about the implications!” Another half wailed in distress.

One of them prodded him. “...Maybe it won’t matter, he seems kind of brain dead…”

“Hmmmf unlikely, this abomination is rather resilient.”

“Maybe if we dump him in some random part of the zone no one will ever find out about this.”

Danny felt strangely wrong at the idea of being dropped off somewhere random. Somewhere wrong. That wasn’t where he was meant to be. He was meant to be… meant to be home. He was expected, he had promised.

“Yes… wait… crap…”

Then the world shifted, it wasn’t a portal. One moment he was there and the next he was slumped on the lab floor. He heard the dropping of instruments and his parents scrambled towards him. Yes he was definitely grounded.

To be Continued Later Today with the Rite of Chaos

#Ectoberhaunt22 #EH Order #Day 3 #Order #danny phantom #fanfic #writing #Body Horror #mind manipulation #the observants #danny fenton #Rites of Kingship

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thestarlightsymphony · 3 years ago

Note

stealing!!!

(haaaaaaahahaha I haven't been avoiding writing prompt asks for months bc I lost confidence in myself, what nooooo anyway thanks for waiting, I wanted it to be a good one <3 )

At first, it was just the little things. Inconsequential items taken on a whim. Annoying, maybe a bit petty at times, but generally innocent.

A cigarette or two, swiped with sticky fingers in passing. Upon discovery of the theft, his lighter went missing in retaliation. Her secret stashed bottle of wine, the next kidnapping victim. The most obvious and common needs on the ship, smokes and booze, always seemed to run in short supply, and they traded pockets like clockwork.

As time went on, it became like clockwork.

And then it became a game.

After a point, what is there to take in space? The last of the fresh coffee, sure, or the first warm water in the metaphorical morning so the other had to wait several hours to have anything above room temperature. Even going so far as to siphon the fuel from one ship to another, if one was feeling especially slighted. A little vindictive, some might even say aggressive, but that's just how they were.

Another box of cigarettes, disappearing into memory. The game continued.

Some time along, the game leaned dangerously close to dulling. Someone, we won't say who, had even begun to like it, and she didn't particularly want it to end. Someone had to do something drastic.

Faye took his shirt. Just another play in the game, she'd never consider any of her moves drastic. Just a shirt, snatched off the line while they were in atmosphere. She paraded through the common room in it and near nothing else, just to see what he would do.

Jet, already exhausted from their weekly antics, withdrew to relative safety and seclusion amongst his non-speaking living things, where he preferred to waste his waiting time. Watching from her perch on the stairs, Ed cackled with delight, of course; she'd been observing the game for some time. She could appreciate this supposed check, or even checkmate if Faye was the better player. The purpose of the game, she couldn't be too sure, but it was silly and she liked it.

And Spike?

Well.

All he did was eye here up and down, cold and quiet as steel. Through a mask of smoke he took her in, his brow furrowed. Faye couldn't tell whether it was from annoyance or concentration he stared for so long, but she couldn't take his eyes for long. When he didn't speak, she huffed and flounced off to bask in her victory, refusing to consider it a retreat.

Just... something about his eyes unsettled her. That look was... a challenge.

Hungry, almost.

He tied her jacket to the Swordfish's nose.

She dolled up Ed in his suit (had to roll up the sleeves far too many times).

He dolled up Ein in her dress, sash and lipstick and everything.

This shift perplexed Jet to no end, as he firmly kept himself out of it. Wasn't the game supposed to be take and take back? What happened to stealing??

In a way they were stealing, sure, but it went from simple pleasures to daily necessities now; the very clothes off their backs, for fuck's sake. If they weren't careful, it could escalate to their dignity, their safety, his sanity---

It might have, if not for one night, when they were out of gas, out of options, and fresh out of Jet's patience. He'd dumped them 'accidentally' on a seedy little crater, for a lead on some bounty (same old, same old). The Swordfish was trashed, the Redtail little better. Spike's initial plan was to grumble in his cockpit until Jet took pity on them and came to pick them up, until Faye shmoozed her way into a motel room for the night.

Better to grumble in a heated room than a cold-ass parking lot.

And this at least was a fresh new play in the game. He hadn't tried this before; what better revenge of being stranded than to take half the bed?

Of course it couldn't end there. Faye was furious, but too exhausted and annoyed to kick him out; she merely curled facing away and threatened to dismember him if he tried anything. The smug look on his face did earn a snatch of the covers when he went to take a piss in the middle of the night.

Spike glared down at the thieved pile of covers, Faye bundled inside.

Now, this wouldn't do.

He tried tugging on a corner; a gentle warning, for more gentle than he had the patience or energy for.

No response.

He tried again, harder and with obvious purpose. Faye clung tighter to the blankets, grinning to herself with her eyes closed.

She was a lot more stubborn than he gave her credit for.

But, so was he.

And desperate times in a childish game call for desperate measures. But what could he possibly take now, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night?

Well.

There's always the empty space between them.

Spike climbed across the bed and wrapped his arms around the blanket pile, hugging it and Faye close to escape the chill. Faye yelped against the intrusion, immediately beginning to squirm in protest. The arms around her just gripped tighter.

She made this bed and he'd be damned if she wasn't going to stay lying in it.

After much bitter hissing and attempts at clawing her way out (unsuccessful), Faye stilled and relinquished a corner, enough for Spike to snatch and tug over his shoulders. He shifted over, satisfied to finally return to his side of the bed.

For the moment.

It was cold in this motel room.

And they've been taking more than either anticipated.

That's the thing about this game. Neither anticipated it. Neither could have ever put a name to it. But they've been taking each others' time, and quietly, in the odd hours except for this one, they might even have been enjoying it.

Stealing time, just by existing.

And now, they're stealing on accident.

Stealing space as Faye rolls over in the dark, shivering with a bitten lip. She's always run cold; the unfamiliarity of this room only adds to the chill. Without presence of mind she curls against Spike's side, just seeking the cloud of warmth beyond her consciousness.

He lets her, though he's not sure why.

It's cold in this motel room. And he's thoughtful.

What was it? This game that they've been playing?

The stealing game. That's right.

He realizes he doesn't want anything else from her; the game has dulled in this quiet, cold room. But maybe there's one last theft he can make.

A moment. An afterthought, or a feeling. A fantasy, or magic, or something.

What was that child's story?

Spike wants to take not something from Faye, but something for himself. A fragment of a thought, a curiosity he'd thought of, barely.

Wendy's thimble.

It only took the slightest of adjustments to sneak an arm over her shoulders; she was still shivering a little, after all. He held her for a couple of gentle moments, feeling breath against his skin he suddenly and painfully enjoyed.

It took nothing at all to tilt his chin down and enact his final play in their game, sneaking a kiss to her hair.

If Faye felt it, she never admitted it.

If she sat up, half-awake and a bit startled, Spike never mentioned it.

If, after a quiet moment of sleepy staring, she slowly returned the favor to his lips, neither one remembered it.

If they shared the favor a couple more times, the shadows around them concealed it.

And if they lay, side by side, staring at the ceiling in shock and discomfort and buzzing curiosity for hours afterwards, they'd never tell you why.

But they stopped taking from each other after whatever happened in that cold motel room.

... For now.

#spikexfaye #spike x faye #ace of hearts #cowboy bebop #spike spiegel #faye valentine #fanfic writer #writing prompt #holy shit i gotta figure out a way to tag these so i can find them later #also holy fuck i'm here #i'm still making shit #i drafted this over a couple days and then shat out a final draft just now #fuck yeah #look at them #i had fun with this one #starlight writes #how about that for a tag fuckers #hell yeah

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bibliocratic · 5 years ago

Note

Soulmate au for jm prompts? Any kind you want

soul-identifying marks, jonmartin, episodes 158-160 spoilers

(this prompt came into my home and beat me over the brain.)(it might not be exactly what you were after, hope it’s ok!)

–

Martin’s waging a passive-aggressive one-man war against an excel spreadsheet when the temperature, risen to bearable by the grunting old radiator in the corner, swan-dives into shivery.

“Peter,” Martin says, not exactly a greeting, as frayingly cordial as he can manage. Not absolving Peter’s intrusion with his attention, triple-pressing the right mouse button and hissing an irate oh come on when the computer refuses to bend to his will and instead freezes again.

Peter will say whatever mysterious bollocks he’s come to imply and hint at and implicate, scattering his bloody breadcrumbs. Martin will be left just as pissed off and in the dark as he was before, so he might as well get it over with so Martin can actually get some work done.

Surprisingly, Peter doesn’t say anything. That’s actually what makes Martin turn round.

Peter’s slate-shingle eyes are observing Martin’s exposed lower arms. Sleeves rolled up haphazard out of his way, folded over in messy and unmatching bunches at his elbow.

He’s studying the designs that blemish the sun-ditched pale of his freckled arm with an interest Martin baulks at. Traces with his eyes the blocky wood-cut patterns in precise and abrupt black lines that start at the line of his watch, sprout up and under his clothes. Idly, he takes his time to let his gaze traverse over the open pages of tomes unfilled with words and unbroken by ink; the landscape of woodland and tree lines and shadowy hollows of roads mysterious or untaken that mar the faint curve of his lower arm. The lantern swinging on the bough of a wintry tree, its candle recently blown out.

The eye, thick and wide, staring out at the crease of his elbow.

Peter flicks a glance up, and Martin reads something like pity there. His face heats.

“The Archivist?” Peter Lukas asks. His voice isn’t mocking. Martin isn’t sure what it it.

He hates the tone of it.

“Do you want something?” Martin responds curtly. Frosty. Tugging his sleeves back down pointedly.

Peter’s expression is ever so proud.

–

When Jon wakes up, he charts the changes death has wrought on him. Sitting on the small bed he’s set up in document storage, swaddled in the uncomforting comfort of his archives, he chronicles the new damages done. The rough tissue of scars on his arms, upper legs, chest. Pitted marks from shrapnel and debris and being in the radius blast of an explosion. He supposes it could be worse.

He thumbs at the faded, almost unrecognisable nazar just below his shoulder, the crossed compass and ruler nearby in the same state. The colour bleeding out of them like they’ve been left too long in the dark. He doesn’t think about his parents much. Not in a long time. His memories sanded down to an uncertain rote recollection that his brain is equally as likely to have invented as not. He doesn’t recall enough to miss them, but there must be something there for him to still bear them on his skin.

There’s a bleary shape splotched on his inner wrist. Forming like the build-up of sediment, the slow grind of tide, and it has been doing so for months, since before he died.

It’s almost fully realised now. He rubs at the shape of it tentatively as though the colour might run if he’s too rough with it. The delicate fawn-brown of its wings, the beaded black circle of its eyes.

He knows who it represents. Impossible not to, really. It’s his representation after all. The complex understanding of a human being realised as imagery and flowering on his skin.

He stares at the nightingale for the longest time.

–

When Martin was nine, struck by the well-echo hollow in his chest, unable to articulate the shamed and hot tears his mother would scold with a cluck of disappointment, he tried to clean the clock off his right leg. Sitting in the bath with the water gagging with too many bubbles, he scrubbed at the cogs and mechanical intestines of the thing, seeing the lies of his father in how it was wound, not wanting it, because surely if his dad had loved him then he wouldn’t have left, and if he didn’t then why should Martin boast his love so obviously. He held and scrubbed until his skin was pink and scalded and he’d started to wince. But connection doesn’t work like that, and so the clock never disappeared, and Martin tried to ignore it every time he took a shower.

Turns out the Forsaken was good for something after all.

–

“How’s the poetry?” Jon stammers at him, so obviously, earnestly angling to drag out their impromptu meeting. Martin wants to be anywhere else but here.

“Jon, I really need to – ”

“Oh. Yeah. I – sorry, I-I know you’ve got… your thing with Peter Lukas.”

“It’s not like that – ”

“I-I know, I know, sorry, I didn’t mean…” Jon stops. His eyes – and were they always so gaunt, so hungry in his face? – have stopped trying to both catch and avoid Martin’s gaze apparently simultaneously, and they’ve snagged instead on Martin’s collar. For a moment, something too thirsty catalogues the pale and vacant skin of his throat, where the purple hooded bells of monkshood usually thronged. Their leaves had grown spikier as he’d aged, stretching out to his Adam’s apple in a bid to form a collar of choking vines.

“Martin…” Jon stares at empty skin, and his expression blooms into something comprehending and distraught.

“I have to go, Jon,” Martin says forcefully. He doesn’t give Jon much of a chance to reply.

He doesn’t want Jon’s sorries. Doesn’t need his worries or his understanding.

He just wants him to be safe.

–

The nightingale sings entangled by coarse and insidious brambles. Jon’s taken to holding his hand over the pattern, like shielding with a careful hand a wind-tossed, guttering flame, when the hunger starts to gnaw though him like frostbite.

It doesn’t stop there. The emblems grow into iconography, twist into tableau. The pictures grow and spread simply as moss, and Jon doesn’t despair because he doesn’t have the space for it any more.

Jon’s evidence has always been discrete. The stamped shapes for his parents like memorial images were all he held for the longest time. Something started to flourish for his grandmother, when she took him in, and he tried to show her the blotched shape in a childish effort to bring them closer. She hadn’t needed to stay anything. She pursed her lip and strained an apologetic glance and he knew even at that age that there was nothing, would be nothing in kind, decorating her skin for him. That choked the image like weeds, and it faded quickly as the passing of inclement weather.

The space, at his jutting hip-bone, was only later taken up by Georgie’s mark. That one never faded quite like the image for his grandmother or for his parents, but it went sun-stained and overexposed long before they broke up.

Martin’s imagery is not so subtle.

It swallows up his arm, roils over his shoulder-blades, infects the untouched skin over his collar bone.

Jon takes to wearing longer sleeves.

–

Martin’s skin has always taken easily to marking. Some people do, he guesses. Wear their hearts on their sleeves, on their throat, on their stomach. Martin’s a scattered museum of loves that he’s tended to over the years, unrequited affections or spluttered out romances.

He’s pleased, in those early days, that nothing ever bruises on his skin for Jon. He likes Jon, even fancies him, for a long time. And it’s annoying, because Jon can be a real arse, but it’s manageable. Jon doesn’t make him go hot at the nape of his neck or make him stumble over his words. His presence encourages harmless daydreams and flights of fancy, but Martin’s under no illusions.

And then Jon listens to his statement. Sits him down, and believes him, and doesn’t break eye contact the whole time.

And Martin had felt, dazedly, Seen. For the first time in a long time.

The first eye had opened up around then like an unclenching fist under his ribs. He’d seen it a week later. Had thought oh and had quickly dressed to cover it.

It’s not the first mark this love leaves him. In time, it scores him with tooth marks and sailor’s knots of worry, and eyes, always eyes, blinking open over his flesh.

He loses the one on his ankle first. Scratches at the space where it was, touching the crease where his sock has dug a band around his skin, right where the line used to bisect the thick and dark pupil.

Then the one on his lower back. His upper thigh. His left wrist.

It’s for the best, Martin, Peter says when he catches him looking at the undamaged patch of skin these absences leave behind.

Martin doesn’t disagree.

By the time Lukas banishes him to the mercy of Forsaken, thwarted and cheated and feeling something almost human, Martin’s skin has already been entirely washed clean.

–

There’s a nightingale on Jon’s wrist. It’s one of the first things that catches his vision, that refocuses from blurry in this undemanding nothing. The colour is too vivid, lurid in this desaturated landscape.

The bird is nestled, or maybe caught, in a twisting of brambles but its beak is open in song.

“Look at me, and tell me what you See,” Jon asks him, and Martin wonders if maybe Jon’s been carrying around his own heart on his sleeve for a while now.

–

His mother’s flowers don’t grow back when he vacates the Lonely. His father’s clockwork finally cleansed from him. The leaves and keys and umbrellas of the numerous small loves and connections he’s now lost the taste of.

Martin’s skin remains unblemished and clear, and he wonders if the Lonely took this capacity from him.

Jon’s hand is dry in his. And nothing blooms on Martin’s arms but a sensation like prickling, like pins and needles, settles under his skin, and Martin holds on just as tightly.

–

There was a downpour on the way back to the safehouse. The sky splitting with a cascade of rain, sheets moving in waves and quickly transforming dewy grass into boggy swamp-land. Their waterproofs, such as they are, have done a poor job and failed to live up to their name, and Jon is dripping a cloud’s-worth of rainfall from his hair alone as he crosses the threshold. Martin, no different, water draining off him like guttering, tuts. Helps him strip the sucking, soaking outer layers off, frigid fingers fumbling with the pull of the zip. Jon awkwardly gets in the way in his efforts to return the gesture, making a face at the sodden slump of Martin’s waterlogged woollen jumper as it hits the floor. Martin catches his t-shirt on his nose as he tries to pull it over his head, trying to unbutton and kick off his clinging trousers in one motion.

He doesn’t feel embarrassed. Doesn’t cross his mind to be. It’s hard, when Jon’s snickering as he nearly trips over his own legs in his efforts to shake his legs free, when they’ve been clung to each other like tethered buoys each night, coddled by the unbroken dark.

“I’ll get dry clothes,” Martin says, the first to have divested himself of most of his clothes, and he bounds upstairs, damp feet squeaking and slipping, longing for a hot shower as he trails puddles into the bedroom. He throws on thick pyjama bottoms, is half wrenching on an errant t-shirt before he realises it’s Jon’s and has to rifle around for a spare one of his own before he slips it on. He collects some clothes for Jon and rushes back.

Jon’s managed to get off his own trousers, slopped in a pile of fabric by his feet, the skin goosepimpling and dark hair standing stark from the chill. He’s pulling his sticking vest off over his head as Martin returns.

Martin sucks in a gasp. Jon blinks, confused for a moment before a reddening mark stripes across the bridge of his nose, his cheeks, splotches at the dip of his neckline.

“What…?” Martin starts, staring at the tapestry on his skin, and he can’t help it.

Before, Tim would joke that Jon loved his job more than he loved people. Was probably conservatively decorated in little stylisations of his perpetually present tape-recorders, probably had a library over his heart. It was something he said as a joke at the beginning and hissed as a recrimination by the end, and Martin and Sasha (and later only Martin) would tell him off, tell him to keep it down, that it wasn’t fair, that it wasn’t his business. But if Jon had been marked, they wouldn’t have known. They were hidden under crisp shirt sleeves and well-placed collars even in summer.

The nightingale, wings scratched by thorns, was the first image Martin had ever seen Jon wear. He’d expected that to be it, had hoped such an emblem was meant for him, but it, well, it is dwarfed in comparison to the harmony of colour struck over Jon’s body like a collage.

Every piece of skin that is not torn up and jagged with scars has been brought into the striking shock of deep blues and blacks that slide and ring over dark skin. A choir of imagery that Martin can’t decipher immediately, like a jigsaw he has to step back from, the artworks all wrapped up in each other, each feeding off the other. There are nightingales, some grounded on thin wind-touched branches, some held mid-flight; these become a stylised compass pointing north. There’s the solid structure of a lighthouse taking up most of his gangly upper arm, its lower levels painted in a sea bound mist, or it could be the curling wisps of inviting steam. His stomach, curving concave, is overwhelmed by the imperious crags of icy cliffs, the rocks dashed by high foaming waves, above which hangs the ribboning line of northern lights. On the sea, a sturdy boat tipping on the water, its spinnaker puffed out and billowing in defiance.

There is so much, so much of Jon taken up, painted in testament, and for a long moment, Martin doesn’t understand.

Jon looks at his feet, and then glances, almost shyly, at Martin’s unpainted throat, his blank arms. Visibly steels himself, moves his gaze up to meet Martin’s.

“It…” he begins, before he breathes in, sets his spine straight. “You. It’s – it’s you. In case, in case you didn’t know.”

“Can – ?” Martin asks, and his fingers are twitching, yearning to trace the lines, to memorise their shapes, and Jon blinks again and then makes a nervy nodding motion.

Martin’s about to reach out before he remembers that Jon’s half-naked and dripping wet in the hallway, that the stone flags will be frozen on his feet, that now is perhaps not the ideal time.

Later. After they warm up, after they shower and the gas boiler grunts and complains and then near-burns them with hot water, after they dress in pyjamas warmed on the radiators, after they go upstairs. Martin runs his hand reverently, shakily over the lighthouse, the compass, the boat, the birds, wonders if this is how Jon sees him, how Jon understands him, wonders why he’s taken up so much space. Looks at all the pictures that are both isolation and sanctuary, song and sorrow and strength, tries to decipher what Jon sees in him.

“There’s so much,” he marvels softly, scarcely believing, hovering the pads of his fingers over the horizon line of a lightening sky, the peaking gleam of a sunrise at Jon’s lower back, the anchor bound in twisting rope around his ankle bone, the up shoots of snow-drops and lily-of-the-valley not far away. Most people get one image, maybe two or three, as proof of meaning to another person, as a tangible reflection of connection. Martin has an entire gallery exhibited across Jon’s body.

“You mean so much,” Jon says softly in response, like that explains it. Maybe for him, it does.

He charts the other bold designs he finds. Realising that for all his earlier pretences, Jon has not, and never has been an island. There’s Daisy’s faintly rusted golden chain caked in mud and blood around his other ankle, Gerard Keay’s thick leather-bound book, its open pages wreathed in fire, the near-vanished marks for his parents, for Georgie, the scant others who came into his life and left their mark.

There might have been an eye, wide and open and unyielding, and it would stare out at the bottom of Jon’s throat if it wasn’t for the rush of wild-flowers also grown there, snow-drops and holly-berries obscuring its vision.

Jon asks him, falteringly, as though unsure of forming the question in his mouth, what Martin had. Before the sea-salt wash of Forsaken cleaned them from him.

And Martin points to where his mum, his dad, his old loves left their remembrances on him. Carefully, honestly, he tells Jon about the tooth marks clamped around limbs like he’d been bitten, because it was not always a kind love Jon made him feel. The eyes that near the end had swarmed like frog-spawn around his middle, slashed across his back like a constellation. The forbidding forest on his arm, the lantern.

Jon strokes the places where he would have seen these things.

“If they don’t come back….” Martin says, and Jon hums.

“They might not,” he says. “That’s… that’s OK.”

“But…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jon says, and he touches at the space where he would have marked Martin ever so kindly. “Something new might show up. In time.”

“Yeah?” Martin croaks, and it’s not a question of if it will or not. Jon’s looking up at him, a smile on his face, his whole body inked with how much he feels, all the words he finds so difficult to express writ large on his body. Martin’s heart feels too big for his chest. And he wonders what meaning they might make of each other together.

#the magnus archives #jonmartin #tma #prompt fic #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #soulmates au #sort of #episode 160 minor spoilers i guess

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orbitariums · 4 years ago

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i don’t wanna miss a thing | stark! reader

hey guys! this was requested a while ago, just got up to it <3

word count: 1.9k

Request: You are Stark's daughter and whenever he pisses you off you go over to Peter's house to chill out without Stark knowing and Aunt May loves you. Can be a oneshot or headcanon I'm not picky love ♡

"Dad, seriously?" you shouted, a mixture of a whine and anger, standing at your dad's heels as he walked away from you.

"Dead serious," he whipped around on his heels to face you and stared you down, and you folded your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes. Of course Tony noticed, and he furrowed his brows. "And enough with the attitude. Your eyes are-"

"Gonna get stuck there, yeah, I know," you completed his sentence for him - how could you not, when he'd been saying that to you since you were a child? But if anything, he was to blame for your supposed attitude problem. Attitude was practically built into Stark blood.

"You're being a little brat. Don't you start," Tony warned, and by the look in his eyes, he was dead serious.

Tony had this thing where he didn't like when you complained about not getting what you wanted because- "look around!" he'd say, "what more is there to ask for? He just didn't want you falling privy to the spoiled rich brat trope, which you appreciated, but you both knew you weren't anything like that. And anyways, you still felt like you reserved the right to complain. Like right now, he was telling you that you couldn't go out for your friend's birthday trip to Cape Cod on the weekend because of "family stuff." When did you ever have family things? It was really just you and Tony and your mom - and the Parkers, since you counted them as family. Peter Parker was your close friend, and that was before he became Spiderman. Him being Spiderman now, and working with your dad, was just a small plus.

"This is so unfair," you muttered, scoffing as you turned around and headed for the door.

"Don't you talk under your breath!" Tony called after you, and since he couldn't see you, you rolled your eyes hard. "Hey, I'm talking to you!"

Tony's voice was cut off by the sound of you closing the door shut, and walking out onto the cobblestone streets. You'd get on the train and go the only place you ever went when your dad pissed you off - Peter's apartment in Queens. You loved Tony, but sometimes, you just needed a break.

Walking into Peter's apartment, it was like a wave of calm rushed over you. You'd already relaxed some on the train ride over there, but actually being at his place granted you a homey feeling like no other. You could be with your friend and May, and Tony had no idea. It was your oasis, your home away from home. When you knocked on the door, there was a loud bang, then a:

"Coming!" from Aunt May, whose voice you instantly recognized.

The door swung open, and you were greeted by the sight of May, who was very clearly frazzled but trying to appear put together. She lost the facade upon seeing you though, and groaned quite honestly,

"Ugh, YN, I'm glad it's you. I'm a mess right now. Come in, Peter's in his room!"

"Hey, Aunt May," you grinned, glad to see a friendly face, and she drew you in for a hug before you walked in, closing the door behind you.

May had a big kitchen glove on her hand and her apron was halfway done, the straps slouching down her shoulders. There were also bits of flour in her hair, and the smell of the smoke wafting from the kitchen was somewhere between burning and delicious. She noticed the confused look on your face and laughed, shaking her head with a wave of her hand,

"Tryna bake. Yeah, turns out the emergency room doesn't train you in... baking mishaps."

You laughed,

"Don't worry, me and Peter'll help you."

"No need, hon', just make yourself at home, I'll figure something out. It's good to see- shit," May swore, catching a whiff of the smoke drifting into the living room from the kitchen.

She ran off, and you shook your head playfully, making your way to Peter's room instead. You knew his apartment like clockwork, you'd been there so many times. You didn't only go when Tony pissed you off, but if that had been the case, you still would've been there a hell of a lot of times. You knocked on Peter's door and he answered, telling you to come in. He was sat on the edge of his bed, headphones in his ears, scrolling through his phone. When he looked up to see you, his face shifted in pleasant surprise. He took one earbud out and smiled up at you,

"Oh, hey YN. What's up?"

You smiled and leaned against his open doorframe, glad to see yet another friendly face.

"Dad drama," you said.

"Again?" Peter questioned, and he waved his hand in the air, beckoning you to him. You sat on the bed next to him as he showed you the song he was listening to on his phone. "Add it to your playlist."

"Pete, you listen to the weirdest music," you chuckled, shaking your head- but you added the song to your playlist anyway.

"It's not weird," Peter frowned. "Probably better than Black Sabbath."

Your eyes widened playfully and you grinned, knowing that you were the topic of his teasing.

"Don't say that around my dad."

Peter's face went red and he seemed to recoil just at the idea of what would happen if he dissed Black Sabbath in front of your dad, who was the number one Black Sabbath fan.

"Don't have to tell me twice."

You and Peter hung around in his room for a while. You didn't have much to talk about, but Peter could go on and on about his nerdy interests. You kind of just followed him around his room while he showed you all the new stuff that he was working on. It gave you a sense of peace to be around him. He was different from most of your friends, who could sometimes fit the "spoiled brat" stereotype that Tony so faithfully worked for you to avoid. So you liked listening to Pete ramble on about legos and Star Wars - it got you out of your head and made you forget about whatever stupid thing your dad had annoyed you over.

"And that's the entire plot of Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back," Pete said, sitting back in his computer chair while you observed his action figures on the shelf beside his desk, picking up a miniature Jar Jar Binks.

"Hey, Pete?"

"Hm?" he hummed.

"Your aunt's baking... or trying to bake. Should we help her?"

"Crap," Pete facepalmed, shaking his head. "I should've known. Come on, let's save Aunt May."

The two of you sauntered into the kitchen where May had her back against the fridge, oven mitts to her face in pure despair. She shook her head sadly upon seeing the both of you, and gestured over to the burnt baked goods on the stovetop.

"Remind me to never cook again."

"Don't worry Aunt May, we'll help you," you reassured her, looking up at the kitchen clock. "'S only 3 PM. We've got time."

"Ugh, I knew I loved you for a reason," May said, and both you and Peter helped her up off the ground. May put a loving hand on your shoulder, a smile on her face. "You're like the child I never had."

"Hey!" Peter whined, making both you and May chuckle.

"Works every time," you said, smirking.

You, May, and Peter spent the next few hours baking - it was a trial and error process, especially because May refused to use box mix. She felt it was important that she broaden her horizons and actually learn something new. But at some point, you finished, with flying colors. An array of brownies, cookies, and various baked goods lay before you. And besides, it had been a fun few hours - anything you did with May and Peter was always beyond ordinary. It was more of a dance party than anything else, Peter blasting his "weird" music which you not-so-secretly enjoyed anyway.

May ordered takeout as well, because "I'm not even going to actually try to cook anything", and invited you to stay for dinner. You figured why not, but knew that it would be smart to get back to your dad afterwards. So once you said your goodbyes to the Parkers, you hopped back on the train to your house.

"Nice to see you're back," said Friday as you entered the passcode, the gate to your house opening.

"Missed ya, Friday."

You walked up the steps and opened the door - to your confusion, you were met with the sound of loud music. You were a bit frightened at first - Tony played his music all the time, but the house appeared to be empty, and you had to be alert of threats at all times, even though Tony took care of you without trouble. Then, you realized that you recognized the song, and that you could hear Tony singing from the living room, waiting for you to come to him.

You hung your head when you saw your dad standing on the couch, arms outstretched and his head flung back as he made a performance out of the song, singing and dancing along. And of course, the song was none other than "I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith. And you were his audience. The music rang in your ears and your dad's singing was horrendous, but you couldn't help but laugh. If this was his way of asking for forgiveness, you'd accept.

He pointed at you, and holding a fake mic in his hands shouted the words,

"Even when I dream of you, the sweetest dream will never do, 'cuz I miss you babe, and I don't wanna miss a thing!"

You just folded your arms and watched your dad make a fool of himself, but you couldn't lie - it was endearing. Tony Stark was nothing if not a drama queen, and he couldn't help but make a show out of everything, including his apologies. You watched him take a few more gratuitous moments, singing along to the classic song and dancing around, pleading with you.

Eventually, he hopped off the couch and glided over to you, a crease in his brows as he fake pouted,

"Missed ya."

"Missed you too, dad," you smirked, leaning in for the hug that he was offering.

He knew he pissed you off sometimes - he didn't grovel for your forgiveness, but he knew when he should at least apologize. As much as you and your dad argued, it was no mistake that your love was unconditional.

"Forgive me?" he asked, gazing down at you, and you smiled.

"Honestly, I forgot all about it," you chuckled, and Tony grinned.

"Where do you go when you're mad at me anyway?" Tony asked, and as much as you were glad your whereabouts were unknown, you were surprised Tony hadn't just figured it out by now.

"That's confidential," you reached up and kissed his cheek, even though he had narrowed his eyes at you, distrusting.

"I'll figure it out," he called after you as you headed further into the house to get to your room.

"Don't!" you called out.

As always, you couldn't stay mad at your dad for long.

#tony stark #tony stark imagine #stark! reader #stark! reader imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #ironman #peter parker #aunt may

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t0ngue-tech · 5 years ago

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All Yours | Seven

“’Was I not enough for you…?’

Seolhyun parted her lips but hesitated to say anything. She also dropped her head, possibly trying to get everything in her mind organized.

‘Yoongi, I’m so sorry.’ She said sadly.”

↠fluff, angst, universityAU↞

word count: 4.5k

↠series: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ↞

A/N: yall idk what’s gotten into me. i literally just uploaded a story and here i am with the update of all yours lmao. tbh ive also been working on this chapter for a while so tyj i finished it huhu. enjoy ^-^

“Come on, Yoongi. Just text her.” You stood in front of your mirror and adjusted your hoodie.

From the moment you woke up, had a cup of coffee, took a shower, and changed into an outfit, Yoongi spent the entire time debating if he really wanted to text Seolhyun. You agreed to go with him to see her because it was his stipulation, but he was the one hesitating.

“You know what, maybe I don’t need closure. It’s all good.” Yoongi placed his phone on your nightstand and laid back down.

“Ugh. Yoongs.” You grumbled and strode over to sit beside him. “Sure you may not need closure, but I know deep down you want to talk about your feelings. You don’t deserve to be cheated on—nobody does. Please text her.”

Yoongi glared at you for a few seconds before he softened his eyes. He mumbled something along the lines of I hate it when you’re right and reached for his phone but took a detour to grab your hand first.

“So, you promise you’re going to come with me? You’re not going to flake out?” He kept his eyes on your fingers as you lazily grazed the back of his hand.

Could he get any more adorable?

“I promise.” You replied earnestly. “But I start work at three today, so keep that in mind.”

Yoongi squeezed your hand and locked eyes with you. Never in your life did you ever picture yourself to be in this position. He held your hands before, mainly to guide you around places when you were extremely drunk but nothing like this. Yoongi had a sweet look in his eye with a smile to match and you were so sure you were dreaming. Yoongi was perfect. Why would Seolhyun want to cheat on him in the first place?

“Okay. Now, go to class.” Yoongi lifted your hand and kissed it. Your cheeks flared a bit and you probably failed to hide the disappointment in him not kissing you on your lips instead.

“Fine. But go outside and take a walk,” you gave him your dorm key. “You need some sunlight.”

After listening to Yoongi’s bullshit excuse about how sunlight was never necessary for him in the first place, you left his side to slip on your sneakers.

Why can’t time just fast forward to later? I just want Yoongi and Seolhyun to meet already so it can all be over with and done. How am I supposed to even focus in class?!

“Wait.”

Yoongi’s voice broke your thoughts and you stood up from your floor. He scooped you by your waist to press your body against his before stealing a long kiss on your lips. You felt your entire body relax and you clutched onto his nape to support yourself.

“You may have more knowledge about people’s behaviors and shit, but I know you well enough that you were waiting for that, right?” Yoongi said with a smirk after breaking the kiss. Your face bloomed crimson and you playfully shoved him a few inches away from you.

“Bye, Yoongi.” You walked away from him with bliss coursing through you and just before you stepped out of your dorm, you caught the satisfied grin on Yoongi’s face.

↠↞

I will die in this developmental psychology class, I swear.

Time in your psychology class always ticked on like you had nothing else planned for the day. You jotted down chicken scratch notes, promising yourself to fix them up when you had time later; thank goodness your professor put up the lecture slides at 7pm on the same day of class. You began to mindlessly doodle at the bottom of your paper.

So many things could go wrong later.

Three stick figures were drawn at the bottom; one with a crude drawing of a beanie, one with hair just below its “shoulders”, and one with long hair blacked out with your pen. You drew scribbles of symbols around the drawing of the figure with long hair indicating how pissed off Seolhyun would be if she saw you two together.

Ugh. I can hear her voice now.

“Why did you bring her?”

“Unless you were cheating on me first!”

You scribbled all over the drawing and turned over the page.

The same stick figures were drawn at the top this time and instead of symbols, you drew tears coming from the figure with long hair and hearts around the beanie figure; Seolhyun would be in tears, apologizing and begging Yoongi for forgiveness and he would play right into her and fall in love all over again.

This time, you fiercely scribbled over the drawing.

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.

Like clockwork, you drew the stick figures. Hearts were drawn around the beanie and medium haired figures while the last one had a giant X covering its face; Seolhyun is completely cut out of the picture and forced to watch how lovey-dovey you and Yoongi were.

This drawing caused your face to heat up a little. There was no way Yoongi would show any affection towards you in front of her because he wasn’t the type to purposely make matters worse.

One last time the figures were drawn back onto your paper and this time, you drew speech bubbles with squiggly lines inside that ended with periods and a few exclamation points. The most likely scenario would be a calm conversation with a few outbursts between Yoongi and Seolhyun. The last thing anyone would want is making a huge scene in front of everyone—

Wait, I don’t even know where they’re meeting!

[10:32] You: hey, where are you two going to have this conversation anyway??????????

Yoongi’s reply came through like lightning.

[10:33] Yoongz: You know the benches outside of the library?

[10:33] Yoongz: There.

Great. We’re going to be in public…

His texts didn’t stop there.

[10:35] Yoongz: I told her to meet me at 11:15 so that you have time to be here before she comes.

[10:35] Yoongz: I’ll be wearing the light brown coat you gave me for my birthday and the blue beanie you hate so much

[10:36] Yoongz: You’ll be able to find me pretty easily.

That damn beanie.

The mental image of Yoongi in the blue beanie made you snicker, but you quickly cleared your throat realizing you were in class laughing to yourself like an idiot.

[10:40] You: okay. i’ll see you then

[10:40] You: fuk that beanie doe omfg.

↠↞

“So you’re seriously going to be there? With Yoongi and Seolhyun? Possibly arguing in front of you? Right in front of your salad?!”

Walking to the library, you gave Hani a quick call to update her with everything that had happened since you told her about Seolhyun cheating on Yoongi.

“Yes, right in front of my salad.” You laughed. “To be honest, I’m kind of scared. Like why did Yoongi have to say he kissed me! Actually… I don’t know what would be worse, her knowing the truth or his lie.”

“Either way she’s going to raise hell, but if you need me, you call and I’ll come running!”

You smiled softly. Hani was serious in the most endearing way possible.

“I know—” Yoongi’s blue beanie stood out at a table underneath one of the large trees. “Yoongi’s there. I’ll call you later Hani or better yet, I work at three so you can come to the coffee shop anytime after that and I’ll update you on what happens.”

“Okay. Be safe. I love you!”

“I love you, too.”

You took a deep breath and approached Yoongi who had two cups of coffee and two sandwiches sitting in front of him. As much as you hated that damn beanie, he still looked as handsome as ever.

“Hi, Yoongs.” You smiled.

Yoongi instantly smiled at the sight of you. “Hey—no, sit by me.” He reached for your hand to stop you from sitting across from him and tugged you over to sit beside him instead.

The action startled you and almost made you lose your footing, but Yoongi supported you by the waist to let you sit down without injury.

“Th-Thanks.” You stuttered.

“Oh, here you go by the way.” He handed you a paper gift bag that he probably stole from your closet. “You left your work shirt and shoes. There’s also a water bottle in here because you need actual hydration and not just coffee swimming throughout your bloodstream.”

Everything he mentioned was sitting neatly inside the bag and your smile was impossible to hide. You’ve been nervous and jittery about meeting with Seolhyun that you completely forgot about your work clothes. Yoongi was a life saver.

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You breathed.

“Of course. Now eat, you didn’t even have breakfast this morning.”

As you had brunch, you spent the time complaining to Yoongi about how developmental psychology makes you want to jab multiple pens in your eyes. He argued that you say that about every class you have and even flicked your forehead.

“You’re doing great though, so keep on keepin’ on.” Yoongi rubbed the spot he flicked with the pad of his thumb.

You felt the weight of your school work elevate at the touch of his finger. Yoongi had the power to relieve any stress that you had in the palm of his hand and it amazed you. Maybe this was just the effect of you being whipped for him for almost a year. It sounded pathetic, but you enjoyed it nonetheless.

“A-hem.”

Both you and Yoongi tore your eyes away from each other to find Seolhyun standing at the opposite side of the table with her arms folded across her chest. Her eyebrows were furrowed and daggers shot from her eyes right into your own. The aura that came off of her was no less than intimidating and you felt as if your soul left your body.

Fuck.

↠↞

“What is she doing here?!” Seolhyun barked as she took a seat.

“I asked her to come so just leave her be.” Yoongi spat.

You silently observed Seolhyun’s outfit; she wore a casual black dress that stopped above mid-thigh and had a deep v-neck line. A cream cardigan hugged her frame and she even made time to put on makeup and curl your hair. If your suspicions were correct, she dressed that way on purpose to use her looks to win back Yoongi somehow. Seolhyun was honestly gorgeous which made you nervous. What if it reeled him back in?

She cleared her throat again and avoided eye contact with Yoongi. “Thank you for meeting with me.” Her voice grew softer and softer towards the end of her sentence and she fiddled with the ends of her hair. This gave off a vulnerable look, almost “cute”.

“Okay.” Yoongi said sharply.

The tension in the air was suffocating and all you wanted to do was run away, but Yoongi kept his hand on your knee underneath the table to keep you at bay.

“So? Anything else you need to say?” Yoongi kept the same tone of voice, annoyed. He truly didn’t want to be here.

“Sigh. I’m sorry okay? God, can we just talk without you being mad at me?!” Seolhyun raised her voice a bit.

“Of course I’m mad! How the hell am I supposed to be feeling? You cheated on me!” Yoongi raised his voice as well and you were even more nervous. You three were sitting in public with students walking by and you were praying to God that everyone was just minding their own business.

“Y-You cheated on me too! You—!” She pointed at him. “—kissed her!” Her finger was now on you.

Yoongi furrowed his brows and squeezed your knee. “Alright, fine. I kissed her once and like I said, I knew I had to tell you because I was feeling so fucking guilty about what I did. You were my girlfriend, Seolhyun! I had to be honest with you.”

Seolhyun tightly pursed her lips together, probably stopping herself from saying anything else.

“How…” Yoongi breathed. “How long have you been…”

Your eyes softened at the sight of Yoongi faltering. He didn’t want to say it. You reached beneath the table to hold that had that was on top of your knee. Instantly, you watched his shoulders relax.

“Um…” Seolhyun chewed on her bottom lip and picked at the skin around her nails. “Just-Just once..”

Bullshit.

“Don’t you think Yoongi deserves a lot more honesty that?” You boldly questioned. Talking was never part of your agenda, but it’s true, he deserved to know the truth after tearing himself apart from agonizing over his self-worth.

“Excuse me?” Seolhyun stared you down and you couldn’t back down no matter how much you wanted to.

“I–I don’t think you’re telling him the truth.” You tried to sound confident, but your stutter gave it away.

Seolhyun scoffed and crossed her arms. “Who do you think you—”

“She’s right. I don’t think you’re telling me the truth either.” Yoongi interjected. “For Seung Ho to talk to y/n about our situation kind of shows how close you two really are.”

“My thoughts exactly.” You said softly.

Seolhyun aggressively scratched the back of her head. “Ugh. Two months!” She blurted out. “Two-fucking-months! There’s the truth! Happy now?”

Your eyes widened then turned to Yoongi who was looking in Seolhyun’s direction with an empty expression. After remaining quiet for about a minute, a low chuckle pushed past his lips.

“Is that why we’ve been fighting so much lately?” There were hints of both sadness and anger in his tone. “This was why you’ve been so short with me? You would cut our dates short—it was because you would rendezvous with Seung Ho?”

“Y-Yoongi.” You whispered and gently rubbed the back of his hand, trying to calm him down.

“Do you know what the fuck I’ve been going through because of this?! I continuously questioned what I was doing wrong—was I not making you happy anymore? Did I do something to piss you off? Was I not buying you enough flowers on the weekends? Altering my class schedule to match yours wasn’t enough? Skipping class to spend time with you? I talked my friends’ ears off trying to figure out why I didn’t seem important in your eyes anymore…” Yoongi kept his head down and squeezed your hand to the point where his nails could draw blood from your skin. “Was I not enough for you…?”

Seolhyun parted her lips but hesitated to say anything. She also dropped her head, possibly trying to get everything in her mind organized.

“Yoongi, I’m so sorry.” She said sadly.

For the first time in a while, she sounded genuine.

“You were enough for me, but I—I guess… I guess I was being selfish and I wanted more.” Seolhyun lifted her eyes in search of Yoongi’s but he still kept his head down.

“You could’ve told me.” Yoongi choked out. “You could’ve talked to me about how you were feeling and maybe—maybe things could’ve worked out.”

It was your turn to lower your head. This was truly an issue between Yoongi and Seolhyun. There was no reason for you to inject yourself into the conversation anymore.

“Is there any way we could work past this?” Seolhyun asked.

Yoongi finally met her eyes. “No. No way in hell.”

He fumbled with your hand to let go and reached into his pocket to pull out his keyring and wallet. He detached Seolhyun’s dorm key and pulled out a polaroid photo of her from inside his wallet. “Here. I don’t need these anymore.”

Yoongi reached back underneath the table in search of your hand and you stealthy met him halfway.

“Please. Just go, Seolhyun. We’re done here.” Yoongi said firmly.

Seolhyun sat there for a couple seconds and then reached forward to retrieve her belongings. As she stood up from the table, she kept her eyes on Yoongi hoping he would say something else, but he remained silent. Shortly after, Seolhyun took her leave without Yoongi sparing her a single glance.

↠↞

Even with the hustle and bustle of students walking all over campus, the world had never been so quiet. Yoongi had his head down, face buried in the crook of his elbow while still holding onto your hand. You weren’t sure when was the best time to speak, so you kept quiet waiting for him to break the silence first.

It almost physically hurt staring at Yoongi. He had been bottling up so many painful emotions to the point where it almost consumed him. He didn’t deserve to go through this.

“Y/n?” Yoongi finally spoke, but the rest of his sentence was muffled behind his coat sleeve.

“I-I’m sorry, Yoongi. I can’t really hear you.”

“Thank you for coming with me.” He turned his head and made heavy eye contact with you. “Saying all those things… I don’t think I would've been able to do it on my own, but you being here gave me strength to do so.”

His words caused a noticeable blush to form on your cheeks. He chuckled and sat up straight to tuck a few of your hairs behind your ears.

“I think you have enough time left to get to your next class from here. I’ll walk you.” Yoongi lifted you up by your arm and you almost didn’t want to go to class. All you wanted was to sit around and hold his hand all day. The thought of that made you blush even more and this made Yoongi laugh a little harder. “What’s the matter with you? Come on.”

Unfortunately, Yoongi didn’t hold your hand when he walked you to class. This was probably because it felt too soon to do so in public. It’s not like he and Seolhyun were the campus couple, but people might get the wrong idea if they knew they were dating.

After the whole thing with Yoongi and Seolhyun, it made it even harder for you to concentrate. Now that they were broken up, who knows if Yoongi still had anymore underlying feelings for her. They were together for a year, so there had to be some leftover right? Plus, Yoongi made a comment the other night about how he thought about why you kissed him and that he “figured it out.” This meant a whole new conversation, a whole new reason to be nervous.

Fucking great.

This was a conversation you weren’t looking forward to. You needed to prepare yourself somehow, but it seemed like no matter how much you could mentally prepare yourself, you still wouldn’t be ready. After knowing Yoongi for roughly a little over two years and falling for him like an idiot, never in your life did you imagine him finding out about how you felt about him.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t even a little happy. You kissed Yoongi, held his hand, and even shared a bed with him with your feelings unknowingly exposed in the air. It made you giddy; butterflies roaming around in your stomach, fighting the urge to smile whenever you thought about him. If only the circumstances were different, life would’ve been near perfect for you.

Class dragged on, notes were written down, doodles were drawn, and next thing you knew, you were tying your work apron around your waist.

“Where’s Yoongi? He didn’t walk you here?” Seokjin asked.

“Nah. His energy gauge was pretty much empty by the time he was done talking with Seolhyun so he decided to just nap for a few hours.”

“Okay, so, what’s the tea?” Seokjin stood near you, eagerly waiting for you to tell him all the juicy details.

You playfully shoved him away and walked over to the espresso machine. “I’m not saying anything until Hani gets here.”

“Aw, come on, y/n. She won’t be here till like five or something!”

You chuckled to yourself and continued to ignore all of Seokjin’s pleads for information.

The moment Hani walked through the coffee shop doors, the first words she shouted was “okay bitch, bring forth the tea!”—this was said with a shop full of students. You were immediately put on the spot, but Hani’s intentions meant well.

You made sure to include all details of the confrontation when you told Seokjin and Hani about it. You also made sure to keep your voice low because you weren’t sure who knew Seolhyun, Yoongi, or even Seung Ho. This wasn’t your story to tell, but both Hani and Seokjin were there from the beginning so it seemed fitting for them to know it all too.

Evening came just as quickly as your shift started. Hani didn’t mean to stay so late, but she got pretty invested in the situation between Seolhyun and Yoongi. Both you and Seokjin did his best to keep all of Hani’s reactions at bay, but you had to admit, it was entertaining. At least she was nice enough to help the coffee shop employees close up.

“Wouldn’t your knight in shining armor show up by now?” Hani joked.

“You need to relax—oh, bye!” You chuckled and threatened her with a broomstick and waved two of your co-workers who were heading out.

“It’s true, y/n. He’s supposed to waltz in here and be like ‘my lady, I have arrived. Your chariot awaits.’” Seokjin pranced around the room and even bowed and took your hand in his.

“And by ‘chariot’, you mean his legs right? Because the dorms are within walking distance?” You laughed.

“Well, yes, b-but anyways let me finish,” Seokjin cleared his throat. “So your knight in shining armor swoops in—” he went from holding your hand to picking you up bridal style. “—picks you up and saves you from the dungeon aka the coffee shop! And then Yoongi says—”

“Seokjin, what in zakum’s name are you doing?”

At the mention of his name coming from behind him, Seokjin froze in his tracks and turned around to find Yoongi staring at him with a questionable look.

“I—uh—” Seokjin panicked, almost dropping you on the floor but he still managed to place you back on your feet. “Alrighty-roo, well, Hani—babe, shall we take our leave?”

All Hani could do was laugh until her stomach hurt and Seokjin dragged her out of the coffee shop by her hand; she laughed so much that she could barely properly say bye to you and Yoongi.

“Do I even want to know?” Yoongi asked hesitantly.

“No, you really don’t.”

Yoongi helped you flip up the chairs onto the table while you continued to sweep the floor. As you two cleaned up, you proceeded to tell him about your day and apologized for telling Seokjin and Hani what happened in the afternoon. He brushed it off because he also trusted them.

Unlike your busy day, Yoongi spent his entire day eating, sleeping, and watching netflix; he exaggerated that it was a packed schedule. He even mentioned that Seolhyun still tried to call and text him, but he ignored every single attempt.

“You know, I think she dressed up that way today to lure you back to her with her looks.” You confessed.

“Huh. You think so?” Yoongi walked behind the counter where you were wiping around the sink.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Yeah, I mean, it’s been pretty cold lately and she shows up in an outfit that could barely keep her warm. She curled her hair, put on makeup, like why is doing all of that necessary to meet up with you? It seems so—what?”

Yoongi was just staring at you with a smirk plastered on his face. “Were you worried that it was going to work?”

A blush bloomed on your cheeks. “N-No. I just think it was ridiculous, that’s all.”

He stepped closer and stood behind you, placing his hands on the metal countertop to cage you in between his arms.

“You know, you observe others pretty well but from my observations from knowing you, you kind of suck at lying.” Yoongi laughed and you forced a chuckle out. You weren’t going to even deny it.

From the counter, Yoongi lifted his hands to secure them around your waist, hugging you from behind. You made a few attempts to move around to clean the counter properly, but he remained.

“Yoongi, I have to clean.” You chuckled.

“Just—” He briefly let you go to spin you around so he could hug you from the front. “Five minutes. Let’s stay like this for five minutes, please.”

It was such a genuine request, how could you say no?

Yoongi was leaning into you with his face buried in the crook of your neck. You had your arms lazily slung around his shoulders and just listened to his faint breathing. The blonde tips of his hair tickled your nose a bit, so you gently slide your hand across his nape to brush down his hair. He hugged you tighter at your sudden action and sighed.

“You’re really going to touch me like that, y/n?” The teasing tone in his voice was enough to raise your temperature and cause a blush to appear on your cheeks.

“Y-Yoongi!” You tried to push him away, already feeling embarrassed, but he just continued to hold you.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Yoongi snickered. “It’s fine, keep touching my hair.”

You were still feeling embarrassed because that was the first time Yoongi used that tone of voice with you. Nonetheless, you listened and continued to stroke his hair. Thankfully he didn’t wear that awful beanie.

Yoongi didn’t say another word and every once in a while, he’d caress your back and readjust himself. Small sparks ignited at the simplest touch and for some reason you wanted to laugh. This was everything you wanted but it did confuse you as to how comfortable Yoongi was doing all of this to you. All you did was kiss him once and the next moment he’s acting as if you two were dating for years.

“Okay, I’m recharged. Continue your cleaning.” He emerged from your body and cupped your cheek. Even if you were the one embarrassed, Yoongi still had a hue of pink displayed at the tops of his cheeks.

For the next ten minutes, you swiftly cleaned up the stations and tossed out the garbage in the dumpster out back. Yoongi waited patiently and even gathered all of your things for you from the back room.

“So you’re opening tomorrow?” Yoongi asked whilst helping you adjust your hoodie.

“Sadly, yeah. So we can talk first then I’ll head straight to bed.”

“We can talk tomorrow, it’s fine. You need your rest.”

“B-But—”

Yoongi stole another kiss from you, probably to shut you up and it worked; it left you utterly speechless. You had to get used to this somehow.

“Tomorrow.” Yoongi whispered. “For now, let’s go home.”

Home?

There was no doubt that Yoongi was referring to your dorm as home since he stayed there the entire day. The idea of him considering your place as “home” gave you butterflies.

Home was a safe sanctuary. Home was a place where someone can easily unravel themselves to be at peace. Home was where the heart was and Yoongi was there with you.

“Yeah.” You blushed. “Let’s go home.”

♡ rae jagi

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prorevenge · 5 years ago

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I led a "revolution" against a horrible lying manager.

To set the scene, I work in a book store, but I'm very much an underling which is what I prefer. I'm usually in the back, helping unpack shipments and prepare them for shelving. I also collect online orders and package them up for shipping, and sometimes I do the night shelving or overnight projects. It's always been my favorite because I rarely have to deal with the managers and it's a much more carefree environment than working the floor and trying to push people into buying things.

Our store has gone through several store managers recently because most of them are getting corporate promotions or they're finding better opportunities elsewhere (our store is part of a nationwide chain and we're sadly struggling a lot against our competitors). Rather than promoting someone within our store who knows how our store functions and is familiar with the employees and their strengths, corporate has been assigning us store managers that are either not from our store, have never been a store manager before, or have no experience in book selling. Obviously, this creates a lot of problems and it's been affecting our store badly. Nothing screws us over worse than when corporate intervenes.

A couple years ago, we got a new store manager that was unfamiliar with the company, unfamiliar with our store, and had zero experience in managing a retail store to begin with. We already had concerns but decided to at least work with her first because maybe she'd be a natural or she'd develop into someone that was good for our store. I'm gonna call her CM for Crappy Manager.

When CM was first brought into our store, rather than taking a week or two to observe our store and the employees before making adjustments and changing things, she leaped right in, changing store policies and taking on other people's tasks. She took over things like the scheduling and making sure we have a daily schedule posted every morning to know where we were supposed to be, when our breaks were etc, and other jobs that take a long time to do and have always been delegated to assistant managers to help things run smoothly. She put people in places where they weren't trained but didn't spend any time training them on their new jobs. She was also very late with every weekly schedule. It would be 9pm Saturday night and we would STILL be waiting for the schedule for the next week. And our scheduled weeks always starts on a Sunday so we'd literally be repetitively calling the store on Saturday night to find out if we had to show up the next morning. So many sections of the store fell into disarray and everyone was getting angry about not having our schedules. She clearly couldn't handle so much and refused to delegate things to change that. On top of that, she gave horrible advice. Just to give an example, she advised the shelvers to hide from customers while they were shelving so that they wouldn't have to be stopped to provide customer service.

But worst of all, she broke the cardinal rule of the store. Do. Not. Mess. With. The. Back. Room. The back room is where we handle shipments and had its own separate manager who ran that area like clockwork. It was completely organized, we had a system we were well trained in, and we have always had things processed fast and all the new product unboxed, organized on carts, and ready to be shelved on time. CM did not bother to observe and of this and put all her focus on that back area. She got it in her head that our store would thrive if we completely changed up the back room... and she had no idea what we actually do back there. First she took away a lot of our carts so we had less to stock our product on (and our usual shipments are anywhere from 150-200 boxes a day. That's a lot of books and we need those carts!). Then she took away the shelving cards we use on our carts to help divide up the titles not only by their main subject like History or Science, but also divided them up by their sub-categories like History: Civil War or Science: Physics. The cards made it so that that the shelvers don't have to look up every single item to figure out where they go. They can just grab them and shelve them, only having to worry about getting the author's names in order alphabetically. So now we have overstuffed disorganized carts and they're not getting shelved on time because the shelvers had to keep looking up where everything goes.

We explained this to CM over and over again in every way we could think to explain it, but she refused to listen and shifted the blame on to us. She also told us that taking away the cards was corporate's idea, not hers, and that they were no longer a required item for the stores. We did our best to try to still get things organized but we were being rushed so fast and had so many books to work with, there was no time to scan through every single item, organize them on the cart and try to remember where we put which sub-section on each cart. I honestly felt horrible for the shelvers and a lot of them threatened to (and did) quit. It made our job in the back room frustrating because we knew we were being forced to screw them over and when things don't work well in the back, it hits the entire store. Less product is being shelved, workers are getting stressed trying to figure out where things go... morale could not have been worse. And the worst part was she refused to listen to anyone who approached her with concerns. Her attitude was "Work smarter, not harder" and "Just make it happen." Sorry, retail doesn't work that way.

This is where I come in. Working in the back -specifically on online orders- I didn't have to deal with her face-to-face much because I was always running around and frankly avoiding her because I didn't want to deal with her. This gave me an advantage. Not only was I able to see the notes she was leaving behind for employees, telling them what they were doing wrong, her bad ideas like making the shelvers hide from customers, and announcing the things she was changing that were hurting our work. On top of that, I was able to eavesdrop on the meetings she would hold back there with the assistant managers, explaining her great new ideas which were all horrible. With so many of my coworkers threatening to quit and getting miserable with work, knowing what they would have to deal with, we agreed we had to do something. So I went online to look up ideas for the best way to handle this and got some good tips.

Now the revenge. I snuck my phone into the back and started taking pictures of every note, every announcement, even the disorganized carts and the giant mess she was creating in the back room (we had a mountain of boxes we couldn't even get to because the carts were not being emptied fast enough to give us room). I eavesdropped on as many of her little meetings in the back as I could so I could keep track of what other policies she was breaking, even caught her trash talking us, calling one of our mentally ill coworkers overly dramatic (even though that coworker never speaks up and just takes it when she's upset), saying we were too stuck in our old ways and too stubborn for change. Even called the manager who ran the back room an idiot and laughing about how pissed off CM was making her. Then I went digging through the store's computer until I found the full list of corporate guidelines, most of which she had broken and didn't care. The biggest of all being the scheduling, and it turns out it's against our state's labor laws for managers to not give us our schedules 14 days in advance.

After I collected as much as I could, I collaborated with other angry coworkers, gathering whatever additional information they had, and together we compiled a document, each of us explaining what was going wrong, what rules and labor laws were being broken, and included all the pictures I had taken with my phone to provide evidence. We did include the disrespectful way she was talking to us and about us but none of us really expected that to be taken seriously as we had no proof to provide. After we all looked it over and agreed we were satisfied with it, we emailed a copy to corporate, a copy to HR, and a copy to the regional manager who had assigned CM to us in the first place. It only took 24 hours before the regional manager was called in and questioned about why on earth he kept CM employed with us and how could he not know all the crap she'd been doing? I would have given him some slack, but the truth was he had visited our store on a regular basis, seen the majority of this stuff, and did nothing since his ass was on the line for hiring her and he didn't want to look bad by admitting his mistake.

Eventually, people from corporate showed up to speak with CM and the regional manager. I wasn't there to see it, but according to the few who did -because it was held in our break room- she was drunk. Honest to god, drunk. She was slurring her words, wavering in her seat, and could barely give a cohesive answer to anything they asked her. It ended in them telling her to hand in her resignation because it would look better for her than if she was just fired. She walked out of there having no idea who had taken this to corporate and even saw the document we'd composed anonymously against her. About a month later, the regional manager also resigned as he did not recover from letting her do this.

We're still having problems with new managers, but our store has now earned the reputation as the store who will not put up with this kind of crap, and that's caused them to be a little more cautious as to who they assign to us. And that, to me, is the ultimate win.

Never mess with the underlings.

(source) story by (/u/Vikkiislost)

#prorevenge #by /u/Vikkiislost #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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thehargrovewhore · 5 years ago

Text

shut me up | billy hargrove [18+, NSFW]

summary;

the classic enemies turned lovers cliche! in which; billy and his next door neighbor have never gotten along, but one night changes everything.

warnings;

swearing. smut. dirty talk. soft billy [if you squint]. this story is NSFW as fuck ladies and gentlemen👌🏻

authors note;

forbidden fruit part two is coming very soon! but for now, please enjoy this beaut.

―

he was such an asshole. he was conceited, he was cocky, he was unnecessarily loud and he was always looking for a fight. billy hargrove was a nightmare, if you ask her. she knew from the moment she saw him that he was trouble.

billy played his music extra loud to piss her off, revved his camaro when she walked by and thrived off of cat-calling her in the hallways simply to get under her skin and make her squirm under his heavy gaze.

since the arrival of billy hargrove; her life has been hellish and the prick knew it. he went out of his way to make the most immature comments he could think of; every single time she walked past him in school. and, to make matters worse, he was her next door neighbor.

he would smirk at her smugly from his window when his classic rock music would interrupt her studying or stand on his porch to poke fun at her, when she was tending to her mom's rose garden in the front yard. overall - she did not care much for the brooding california native.

but was he beautiful? unrealistically. billy has those ocean blue eyes that made her weak in the knees, a pearly white smile, dirty blonde hair and a shredded body. he wouldn't be so bad at all, if his personality wasn't complete shit.

he was everything she was not. she was passive, shy and overly commited to her schoolwork. which of course had made her the prime target for billy and his friends. she's a bore, as most people say, who never let's loose. but, what people don't know about her, won't hurt them.

she wasn't innocent. she smokes like a chimney & swears like a sailor. she has been hooking up with an out-of-town guy for the last four months, and chooses to allow people their perceptions on her. what they thought was shy; was simply her having absolutely nothing to say.

but, if billy hargrove or his buddies, knew anything about these topics she would be done for. which is why she has kept her mouth shut, and tried to mind her business. but, as if he were a dark cloud hanging over her head, it was a fact that billy would fuck with her no matter what.

like right now, for example. she is walking down the halls, trying to beat the rush-hour of restless teenagers, and he is hot on her tail with that fucking smirk on his face. there was certain times that she wanted to slap it clean off.

she hated him sometimes. but, then again, she just could not hate him completely - she was in close range to billys home and could often hear what his father was doing. his life was terrible when you peeled back the layers.

"you know it's almost summer, babe. i don't see why you insist on dressing like a nun." he spoke, with a gruff laugh that rumbled in his chest and made her heart beat faster.

she looked down at her light pink sweater and blue jeans, before raising a single hand and giving him the finger. she was never one to show what she was packing, even when the weather got disgustingly warm outside.

"don't call me babe, asshole. why does it even matter how i dress? leave me alone." she huffed, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear and heading over to her locker with haste. she was supposed to be meeting her lover and was not keen on being late to an hour or two of satisfaction.

"normally, i would be happy too doll. but since your mom asked susan if i can bring you home today, i might as well have a little bit of fun while i'm at it." billy grinned. she's in no mood for his irritating bullshit right now, however.

she scoffed, pushing her books into her locker before she slammed it shut again. her mother was clueless when the matters came down to billy. she didn't see past the whole charming persona that he put on around all women.

"i don't need a ride home. my friend is already waiting for me outside. hate to burst your bubble, pretty boy. now if you'll excuse me, i'm going to be late." she scowled.

billy's eyebrows furrowed in confusion; and he raised one muscular arm up to block her in. "you don't have friends. i know for a damn fact that you're always alone. who is it?"

his brashness made her angry. who the hell is he, to make her answer that question? like it's any of his business. she rolled her eyes obnoxiously, putting one hand on her hip.

"it's not any of your business, hargrove. sorry that i refuse to surround myself with mindless idiots. please get out of my way now, your whores are waiting for you." she spoke, gesturing behind him to heather and tina.

when billy turned his head to smirk at the girls, y/n took a chance and sneakily slipped under his burly arm. "damnit! this conversation isn't over babe!" billy yelled loudly while she made a bee-line for the school's front doors.

"that is a funny concept, because i'm walking away." she sneered, before turning on her heel and going outside to eric's awaiting car.

a very angry and sexually frustrated billy was left behind, standing in the hallway with his fists clenched tightly.

he just had to find out what his little spitfire was doing, as it was obvious that she is hiding something, and has been hiding something for quite some time now.

―

two hours later after being fucked in the backseat of her lovers car, she was now adjusting her sweater and fixing up her messy hair in the rearview mirror. with a cigarette in one hand and her notebook in the other; she gave the breathless boy next to her one final kiss.

eric was good fun. he was not the best, but he got the job done with enthusiasm as far as she's concerned.

"call me again soon, i had fun." she purred, getting out of his car and shutting the door gently. her parent's weren't home, which meant she was free to smoke in peace. she placed the cigarette between her lips, and walked up the front steps with wobbling legs.

as if clockwork billy had pulled into his usual parking spot while she was fumbling in her bag for the house keys. and her heart stopped within' her chest; when his eyes landed on her.

she still had the cigarette between her lips.

billy got out of his camaro with a wide smile, standing to the side of it and taking a drag off of his own cigarette. it was obvious that he was upset about something.

maybe one of his many dates wouldn't fuck him.

"am i dreaming or is that you, babe?" billy smirked. but it's not his usual smirk, which was condescending and cocky.

this one is dark and mischievous. she wondered what this nuisance has up his sleeve now.

"you're very observant, hargrove." she spat angrily. it was a quick response that was full of underlying irritation.

"looks like there is a lot of things i didn't know about you, princess. but you don't kiss and tell." he inquired smugly.

"oh, go fuck yourself." she snapped, getting her key into the lock and turning it once. she took one last puff, billy knew she smoked now, so no point in trying to mask it.

she dropped the cigarette on the ground, mumbling to herself about how arrogant he is before - and prepared herself for the brewing rumors to begin swirling. he will definitely let tommy and carol know about this.

this is the last thing she wanted tonight.

when she turned around to flip him off one last time, billy was already directly in front of her. she gasped -- backing up quickly and almost falling into the opened doorframe.

billy's thick arm shot out to wrap around her waist before pulling her flush against his chest. with one hand, he then moved a piece of hair away from her face lovingly making goosebumps arise on her skin.

she has never been so close to him before. she could feel the heat from his chest and was tempted to touch him. it was like seeing him in a new light; and she was cursing at herself internally for these newfound emotions.

"what are you doing? let me go." she bluffed, trying to pull back from his grip but he was not budging at all. his eyes; they were so damn dark compared to their usual blue hue resembling the pacific ocean.

"i saw you fucking him in his car. i don't like it." billy spoke lowly, backing her up into her house and closing the front door with his foot. she should of hit him, right in that self- assured face of his, then forced him to leave.

but, she just could not ignore the returning ache between her legs.

"why were you watching me?" she spat, crossing both of her arms over her chest with purpose. billy chuckled and shook his head at her state of oblivion. "you're supposed to be the smart one here, princess. i have wanted you for months now. do you have any clue what it's like to watch you fucking that asshole?" he snapped, closing in on her.

she was backed against the wall of her kitchen, and could barely see straight through her lust-filled haze. "you say it like that was such an obvious fact, billy. you've been such an asshole to me since day one. and all of the sudden you want to fuck me?" she quipped lightly, breathing ragged.

he pressed himself against her petite frame before taking her by surprise and lifting her onto the counter with ease.

SMUT.

he leaned forward, taking her lips in a breathtaking kiss. it sent shockwaves straight down to her toes. she has had a fair share of kisses in her life but this one decimated them all from her memory. it was full of fire and beautiful.

"i'm not going to fuck you, baby. i'm going to ruin you. i'm going to make sure that you feel my cock for days. when i am done with you; you are all mine. do you understand?"

she found herself nodding in submission, grinding herself against his clothed cock, absolutely desperate for him. he was making her stomach burn with hunger. she has never been one for being submissive, but with billy; she wanted him to have that control over her.

his hand drew back and sent a punishing slap directly on her clothed pussy; causing her to squeal sharply, and dig her nails into the shoulders of his leather jacket. billy was not happy with non-verbal responses, and she is learning that pretty damn quickly.

when she didn't respond to his command again, he sent a second slap to her pussy, and this time with purpose. and right now, she could quite literally orgasam on the spot. it was like electric shockwaves vibrating her core.

"yes! holy shit! yes, i understand billy." she relented before squirming away from his overwhelming touch. "i'm yours! please just fuck me already." she whined - biting his lip for some added persuasion, which seemed to do the trick.

he lifted her off the counter, her legs wrapped around his waist tightly, before walking down the hallway and to her bedroom on the left. she was kissing his neck the entirety of their journey teasingly, and billy was ready to pounce.

knowing they don't have much time; he was not going to waste any time with her. "did the frat boy make you cum? did he make you feel good?" billy taunted while laying her down on her silk sheets and climbing on top of her. she is quick to nod at him playfully, trying to piss him off a little.

eric did make her feel good; but he did not make her cum so it wasn't a complete lie. billy growled again and flipped her onto her tummy. she has never been manhandled this way and she was revelling in his strength.

she quickly lifted her sweater over her head, and groaned when billy's fingers traced up the base of her spine; so he can unclip her white bra and guide the straps down - billy hissed at the sight of her milky white indiana skin.

he pulled her back against his chest - one hand wrapping around her throat while the other unbuttoned her jeans & his hand casusally slipped inside her panties. she writhed against him, pushing her ass into his hard-on greedily.

with two fingers, billy began to rub her clit relentlessly. its unexpected and overwhelming, causing her to cry out. he smirked, his lips nipping at the soft skin of her neck, while the hand around her throat only seemed to tighten.

billy suddenly pushed her back onto her stomach before guiding her jeans down her legs - her panties coming off in the process. she mewled at the feeling of cold air now hitting her damp folds.

she felt his hands spread her cheeks; obviously taking a moment to admire the goods - and she flushed red with embarrassment and pure lust. his hand traced teasingly up her spine once more, before grabbing another hand- full of her hair as another throaty command sounded.

"stick your ass up in the air, nice and pretty for me." while she is already a trembling mess and legs felt like jelly, she did as told and arched her back, pronouncing her ass, for billy's anticipated viewing pleasure.

the two fingers began to travel downwards and tease her entrance lightly, before billy pushed them inside her, until he was knuckle deep and resting against her g-spot. "that is a good pussy right there." he groaned deeply, and she is only turned on further upon hearing his dirty words.

she cried out loudly, hands clawing at her sheets - as the rapid fire began to spread deep within' her belly. her hips, now thrusting back against his rapid moving hand had to be stilled due to her constant squirming. her mewling did not help matters when it came to billy's raging hard-on.

the sounds of his thick fingers plummeting in and out of her with pussy with violently fast strokes could be heard throughout her small room, along with her soft moans & billy's own grunts of approval. she was so close- but she wanted to cum on his cock, not on his fingers.

she knew they had at least 45 more minutes- but did not want to waste anymore time. she knew this would not be their last time seeing each other, so foreplay could wait.

"billy, please! i really need you to fuck me." she whined. he chuckled darkly, but obeyed her wishes nonetheless. with another low growl, billy withdrew his soaked fingers.

he shed his leather jacket off and unbuttoned shirt, while she flipped back around and got his blue jeans down and around his ankles, where he kicked them off with haste.

billy kept his boxer briefs on and simply sliding his cock out through the convenient hole in the front. she took a moment to marvel at his girth, before she was laid onto her back, her head hitting the soft pillows beneath her.

billy climbed in between her legs, his arms bringing y/n's legs up to wrap around his waist securely. he looked into her eyes, searching for consent - as if she didn't give him enough already, and she absolutely melted under him.

she has spent such a long time disliking him, that it didn't cross her mind just how much she really liked him. maybe being his wouldn't be a bad thing. maybe being his would be the greatest blessing in the whole world.

"make me yours, billy." she declared, thrusting her hips up and prodding her soaked entrance against his tip. he then kissed her with all the passion he could muster; before he thrust his hips forward and entering her in one thrust that took the breath from her lungs and made her toes curl.

"you feel fucking amazing, princess." billy hissed, drawing his hips back until only his tip was at her entrance, before slamming back into her and bottoming out again. shes an incoherent mess already; writhing and moaning under his heavy body that fit so perfectly against hers.

billy's hips began to piston against hers, fucking her into the mattress, making her breasts bounce with every one of his relentless thrusts. she was wailing loudly, her nails clawing his shoulders and back painfully; but he loved it.

"oh fuck! oh my god, please don't stop!" she moaned - as his cock began to hit her g-spot with expert precision. he was making good on his earlier promise. billy was ruining her, and she absolutely loved the sting of pain that came along with each rough movement of his hips.

"did the frat boy make you feel this good, baby?" his deep voice taunted once more. billy moved onto his knees, and pressed her knees against her chest; fucking her at a new angle that made her scream for him. she shook her head - unable to form any words besides loud pleas for more.

y/n has never been fucked like this. her eyes drifted shut; cherishing the way he began to slowly rub her clit before swiveling his muscular hips deliciously into her core. "oh! it feels so fucking good billy, please fuck me harder!" she cried out unashamedly. she just could not get enough.

billy obeyed her wishes with a deep groan, before leaning back some more and holding her legs in place against her chest. he snapped his hips into her harder; the sounds of his cock destroying her pussy with wet smacks, could be heard in the bedroom along with her growing screams.

"open your eyes and look at me, pretty girl. i know you are about to cum for me, and i want you to know exactly who you're cumming for." billy declared through heavy pants.

she opened her eyes, maintaining eye contact with him. it made the coil deep within' her stomach begin to tighten.

"such a pretty sight, princess. all fucked out, and ready to cum all over my cock." he growled, rubbing her sore clit in time with his brutal thrusts. billy was so close but wanted to see the girl who used to hate him; falling apart for him.

"oh my god, billy! yes! right there!" she screamed - feeling the coil tighten mercilessly before snapping. she saw little white spots in her vision as her orgasam washed over her.

"fuck! that's right baby, cum for me." billy growled, seeing the sweat begin to stick to her forehead; as her legs were still shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm. "this pussy is all mine now, princess. you are all fucking mine."

with that, billy pulled his cock out of the tight confines of her soaking wet pussy, before spilling his load on her little stomach. in that moment, he wanted to snap a picture, to commemorate this lust-filled moment fully.

he got off her bed, searching around the room for a towel so she wouldn't be soaked in his hot release. after cleanin' her up, she expected him to gather his clothes and leave.

but he didn't. instead, billy pulled her covers aside and he slipped into bed with her. she was shocked; but her heart was so overwhelmed with love that she didn't say a word.

billy pulled her into his chest after lighting up a cigarette. normally she would yell at him for smoking in her room & demand that he goes outside, but she could care less.

they laid there silently, his free hand now playing with the smooth locks of her hair. "i know that i'm an asshole. but i can change for you." billy confessed. she looked up at him with wide eyes, realizing that he wanted more than sex.

she shook her head, moving from her comfortable spot & straddling him. with one hand on her thigh, billy gazed up at her through cloudy blue eyes and thick black lashes.

she leaned down, giving him a passionate kiss. one that took the breath from his lungs this time. her gentleness, the way she touched him so lightly like she was afraid to hurt him and the feeling of her soft lips was pure heaven.

after pulling away; she looked down at the blue-eyed boy and genuinely smiled at him for the first time. he was just so beautiful, she could not find a single flaw on his face.

he was an asshole, that much is for sure, but he was hers.

"there isn't anything i would change about you, hargrove."

#billyhargrovedrabble #billyhargroveimagine #billyhargrovexreader #billyhargrove #billyhargrovesmut #fanfiction #imagine #drabble #oneshot #strangerthings3 #strangerthings2 #strangerthings #dacremontgomery

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shinyspooks · 5 years ago

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I dont know much about Kaitou joker as i have not yet seen the show but knowinh clockwork if the shenanigans didnt cause the end of the world and it would piss off the observants then he would find it hilarious

(for some reason im taking this as an excuse to talk about the time travel in kj lol) Clockwork would just find it hilarious cause only one time travel incident in KJ actually had an impact on the future and the others were just. well. One they just ran around old Japan for a bit and met a few other character’s ancestors and in the manga Adult Hachi only comes back to challenge Joker to see who is the better thief and J (Joker’s son) only shows up to pick him up.

In the manga about Joker’s son J though, J and his friend Kai come back in time to take a treasure and encounter Joker and there are so many arguments between J and Joker and Joker almost got killed by a evil car and it was great.

Arsene Lupin was brought to the future by some magic gem or something???? I’m very unclear about his plot cause it was in a game that’s you can only get in Japan/one special manga made for the game but I do know that he gets amnesia like twice so I don’t think he remembers anything about the present when he goes back to the past so it doesn’t impact the future......

There’s the possibility that there are other time travel incidents in the manga that I don’t know about cause like. the manga is wild.

#Kaitou Joker #listen you can't send me stuff that'll make me rant about KJ here THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A DP BLOG #........if you really want to hear me go on really long rants about KJ you can always message my main #cause my main is KJ Central #I'm like the only Original KJ Fandom Member that's still going

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xoxo-buttons-xoxo · 5 years ago

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Warned.

There are horrifying, spine-tingling people and things all over this world. Murders, rapists, abusers, drug dealers, who will stop at nothing to get every penny they earned, live all around us and we come into contact with them more often then we hope to. From birth we are raised to stay away from anything or anyone who could harm us, but what about what our parents forgot to warn us about? What if the thing that traumatized you the most had stunning brown eyes and the dark, chestnut crew-cut hair that tries to distract you from the dangerous lifestyle he lives. We should not be warned about dangerous drugs and malicious murders in the streets. We should be warned by the demon in disguise. We should be warned about him.

Chapter Three- On The Run

The regret of getting into the car with him filled my whole body instantly with the most uneasy feeling. I was still in absolute shock over how Caroline so easily ratted me out to Monty. I know the overwhelming feeling of pure terror, I was living in it. Never once would I have put my family or friends in harms way trying to protect myself though. I let my thoughts drown me entirely as I stared blankly out the window. I watched so many faces in different vehicles pass us on the interstate, but I knew if I made the wrong move of trying to obtain anyone's attention, Monty would hurt my family. As if it was perfect clockwork, Monty broke the unbearable silence.

"If you even make so much as a hand gesture to someone, we will have your parents killed. I will have them start with your precious mother while your father watches." Monty grinned as the malicious words fell from his lips.

I nodded and stayed silent. I did not want to talk to Monty in fear of saying the wrong thing, so I just avoided any kind of conversation at all. Monty kept occasionally looking over at me, but he never attempted to make any kind of conversation after that. He stayed utterly silent gazing into the lights of other cars passing him. I noticed just how carefully he was driving. He would make sure to stay within the speed limit and always use turning signals while switching lanes. He was careful to not make any careless mistakes, and it was that moment the feelings of terror deepened. I realized just how many faces I had seen tonight and how not one of them even recognized me and probably never would. At least not until it was too late. I tried to shake the negative feelings away, I tried to stay hopeful in maybe he was only trying to scare me into being quiet. He tried scaring you into being quiet, you didn't listen remember? The little voice in my mind reminded me of the obvious.

My breath hitched in the back of my throat when I noticed Monty turning off an exit. The exit looked run down as if it had been abandoned for years. My guess, it probably was. He pulled into a old hotel room parking lot and I did not know what I was really more scared of Monty or what was going to be in these rooms. Monty touched my hand as if to get my attention but out of pure instinct, I jerked my hand back holding it. Monty let out a deep sigh and got out of the car. He walked over to my door and motioned for me to roll down the window. I did as I was told and listened to what Monty had to say.

"We are going to be staying the night here. It has been a long night and I am tired. When we enter this building, we are a couple looking for a place to crash," I cringed at the thought of being in a relationship with this asshole, "I do not want to hurt you. I will however if you do not listen to exactly what I say. I will not jeopardize my life over a bitch who can not keep her mouth shut." Monty finished his speech and tilted his head sideways, I assume he wants me to confirm I understand him. I nod once again avoiding conversation and get out of the car. Monty grabs my hand and holds it as if we were sincerely a couple.

When we walked into the hotel, a thousand thoughts filled my mind. Could I escape tonight? If I made a move to escape or get help, does Monty actually have people watching or is it a scare tactic? I knew my best way of surviving all of this was just to play into Monty's game. Monty was dangerous and I stood no chance fighting him in battles he won one too many times. When we reached the hotel welcome center to book a room, the woman's eyes widened. I looked around at myself wondering what I had done and then it struck me, she was trying to picture us together. I took a moment to really observe Monty. Pale white skin, tattoos painted up and down his arms, dark eyes, and dark hair. Everything about Monty screamed, I am trouble stay away and if I had to say so I think the receptionist agreed after comparing the two of us.

"Hello love, I need a room for the night." I heard a familiar voice say. I whipped my head up and noticed it was Monty. Did he just say love? He was so slick and convincing for a moment, I began wondering if he was actually a decent guy. All those thoughts were completely blindsided by the reoccurring memories of him threatening my family. I heard the receptionist ask Monty a question, but did not catch what it was as I was too lost in my own thoughts. "One is fine, thank you." Monty stated before tugging at my wrist to follow him. I gave a quick half smile to the receptionist and followed Monty to the elevator at the end of the hallway.

When we stepped inside the elevator, I remained silent. This time however Monty did not oblige to keeping conversation at a minimum. "You did good, Ella Mae. You keep that act up and maybe I won't torture you too much." I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to control my breathing, but I felt completely helpless and to be completely honest, I was. Nobody was going to help me or find me. Monty was too good at hiding to ever get caught. I was going to be tortured and then maybe get to go home, but the chances seemed to grow more thin with every second that passed. I felt a single tear fall down my cheek but I quickly brushed it away and tried to maintain my composure. I did not want Monty knowing he broke me or even scared me if that was possible.

We stepped out of the elevator and walked directly across the hideous carpeted floors to our room, twenty seven. I paused in front of the door waiting for Monty to open it. He finally did and when I walked inside to view the room, I suddenly felt an instant wave of uncertainty. I now understood where the one is fine thank you comment came from. There was only one bed in the room. I froze like a deer in headlights and could not regain my composure. I was wearing more and more thin. Did he bring me here just to have sex? Is this part of the torture he had planned? Monty came out from behind me without a shirt and motioned to the bed. "You aren't just gonna stand there all night, are you?" I slowly walked over to the bed and sat on top of the covers holding my knees to my chest. "Monty, you didn't bring me up here to torture me did you? You aren't going to well you know?" I managed to spit these two half sentences out before turning around to look Monty in the eyes. His face dropped and then he let a grin sink in and I felt like I needed to dart towards the door.

"Honey, I have killed many men in my time, but I am no rapist. Rest assured, I just want sleep and did not feel like paying extra for you to have your own bed. Feel free to sleep in the floor, just know I will catch you if you try to escape." Monty stated firmly never dropping eye contact.

I just decided to stay in the bed as I felt like Monty could not be worse than a hotel room floor. I stayed as far to my side as I could trying not to think of how close Monty was to me or the things he had planned to do to me. I closed my eyes attempting to drift to sleep but shot up when I felt an arm around my waist. Monty was dead asleep but he had placed his arm around my waist as if to snuggle with me. What is wrong with this guy? Don't answer that, I don't want to know. I walked over to the bathroom and sat on the toilet until I felt like I had been in there for years and opened the door to go back into the room. When I opened the door, I had to resist the scream in my throat. Monty was standing there just looking lifelessly at the door. I shoved past him and laid back down in my current spot on the bed placing pillows in the middle to keep us separated.

It was a childish move I know, but I did not even want to think of Monty touching me. I heard the toilet flush followed by the pitter-patter of feet. I heard a deep chuckle from behind me as Monty entered the bed. "You seriously built a wall out of pillows to keep me away from you? Are you twelve or something?" Monty said as he tried to hold back his laughter. "I do not want you touching me. I will do as you say, but I am not going there with you. You can just kill me now." I stated finally showing him I can stand my ground. When I felt the bed sink right next to me, I knew I should have kept my mouth closed. I just let the anger get the best of me and had to let some of it slide before I completely blew up in a rage. "You do not have to worry about me killing you. That is too easy. I prefer the slowness of torture. It breeds the best revenge." Monty responded in the way I expected him to.

I just stayed rolled over and remained silent. I did not need to piss Monty off anymore than i already had. All I was doing at this point was asking for trouble. I wanted to see my parents and Caroline again one day. I needed to gather every last bit of strength I had and put on the best performance Monty had ever seen. Maybe he thought he was good at the whole pretending-to-be-someone-you-aren't thing, but I was going to show him, he had met his match. I needed to keep him on my good side even if he was a psychopathic killer who was an asshole more times than not, I was going to out do him. I was stronger than him. He relied strictly on fear of his victims, but without any fear, he was nothing more than a face in the crowd. I was not going to let him know so quickly that I knew how to out play him. I needed to feed into his ego a little more first, but I was going to get out of this hell. I did not care what I had to do to do it, I was getting out.

I thought of how my parents must be feeling right now and let the tears stream silently down my face. I tucked my head into the comforter and closed my eyes. I tried picturing happier moments. All the good times my family and Caroline had together and slowly drifted back to sleep. That was the last time I would sleep that good. That was the last night, I would go to sleep without seeing things that completely changed me forever. Nobody could have prepared me for the lifestyle Monty lived. The things he had done was terrifying and how he so casually completed his "tasks" and felt no remorse for them was downright insane. I knew if I did not want to end up in Monty's body count, not sexually, I would have to put on the best show he'd ever seen. I was finally ready to play Monty's twisted game, but this time I was confident I was going to win.

#warned #badboy #bad #goodgirl #good #drugs #monty #ella #gang #gangster #story #wattpad

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neraawritesxx · 6 years ago

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i wish

pairing: kakashi x sakura genre: romance, drama, humor, nsfw word count: 13,935 rating: mature

↬ note: So, I finally got around to finishing one of my Secret Santa gifts for my discord server. This piece of work is dedicated to YummyFoods! I hope you had a wonderful holiday, hun. Also, special shout out to @mummapaintstheblues for keeping my sane throughout this entire writing process. I wouldn’t know what I would do without you bby ~

September 30th, 2018

"Don't you even think about it, Forehead." Ino's threat is thinly veiled, but there is no real hostility behind her words.

Sakura blinks, suddenly being pulled from her reverie. The bar is dimly lit and smoky with the pungent scent of stale beer and…something else she can't quite put her finger on. The heavy rock music pulsing through the speakers is more background noise than anything else, and unfortunately for the patrons who paid money on the jukebox, the tunes are drowned out by the brash group of bikers who take up the far corner of the bar.

She's not sure why Ino brought them all here for a girl's night out. It's not their typical scene for a Friday night, but then again, the blonde always had a soft spot for the local hole in the wall. Cheap, watered down liquor and all.

Sakura turns her head towards Ino, with an eyebrow raised, and asks, "What are you talking about, Pig?"

"I see you staring at the door. Don't even think about leaving."

Sakura grimaces and Ino scoffs, eyes nearly rolling into the back of her skull. She throws an arm over the back of Sakura’s chair and leans in close to deliver her next words. "I know what you're thinking. Stop. It took me two weeks to plan tonight around everyone's schedules. You're going to keep your pretty little butt planted in that seat, have another drink, and enjoy our girl’s night out. That is final."

Sakura's nose wrinkles with her displeasure at being scolded like a child, but she says nothing in retaliation. She swats Ino’s arm off the back of her seat and turns her attention to the cocktail in front of her. It’s some obnoxiously blue citrus drink that TenTen ordered for her. She has no idea what’s in it, nor is she too keen to try and find out, so she fiddles with the straw instead.

Sakura could play dumb, deny that she wasn't thinking about coming up with an excuse that would lead to her inevitable escape. She knows Ino wouldn’t fall for it though, so she doesn’t offer any type of apology and keeps her head held high. Unfortunately, now that the topic has been openly addressed, it doesn’t merely end with Ino’s brusque and portentous command. It’s now time for everyone at the table to give their two cents. TenTen is the first to voice her opinion on the matter.

"Oh, leave her alone, will you Ino? She just misses her man, and I can't say that I blame her."

A hot flush of embarrassment crawls its way up Sakura’s neck, staining her chest and cheeks crimson. She buries her face in both of her hands and groans softly, trying to keep the sullen note out of her cry, but it’s to no avail. It sounds pathetic even to her own ears.

"TenTen!" This time it’s Hinata who cuts in.

"What!?" Tenten exclaims, and it sounds almost remorseful – almost.

Sakura raises her head just enough to level TenTen with a baleful glare between her splayed fingers. The brunette takes this as a challenge, however, and meets Sakura’s soured look with a matching one of her own.

TenTen tosses her arms open, looks around the table, and challenges the entire group with, “Someone tell me I'm wrong! Go on!”

She's not wrong. Sakura knows it, TenTen knows it, Ino and Hinata and everyone else within their friend group, even those who weren’t present, know it.

However, Sakura would rather not be faced with the uncomfortably awkward topic that is her current relationship status. Nor does she want to hear Ino harp on what she firmly believes is the right course of action for Sakura to take. They’ve gone through this same scenario a handful of times now and it has only ever lead to one thing: an argument.

When no one raises to her taunt, Ino – shockingly – included, TenTen drops her hands into her lap, sitting further back in her chair with an air of triumph. Her eyes drift over to Sakura, who has now fully come out of her hiding spot and offers her a small, delicate smile.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Sakura. A few years back, when I had that internship in Suna, I was forced to leave Neji behind. It was hard. Really hard. I went from living with my boyfriend and seeing him every day, to a phone call or maybe a FaceTime, three times a week. I missed him so much, and I didn’t give two shits about who knew it or not. You’re allowed to miss him, Sakura."

Sakura considers her words, feels somewhat pacified by them, enough so to let her shoulders droop. She runs a hand through her hair, twirling the ends between her pointer and middle fingers.

"Oh please," Ino mutters narrowly. It’s dry and mocking and oh so condescending and immediately Sakura is put on the edge.

And this is precisely why Sakura was worried to begin with: the judgment.

Best friends are there to keep you grounded, to slap you with the harsh reality of any situation. Ino and Sakura are no exception to those rules. They worry about one another, take care of each other, and Sakura wouldn’t have it any other way. However, that doesn’t necessarily mean Sakura wants to hear about what Ino believes she is at fault for.

Especially right now.

She would rather not get read the third degree about her current relationship in a shady ass bar on the outskirts of town, who's main populace is bikers. But, like clockwork, Ino doesn’t disappoint. Her judgment is harsh and swift.

"You guys are blowing this whole thing out of proportion. They aren't even really dating. It’s not a real relationship. There's nothing for her to miss.”

And that is…well, that is the real brunt of the issue, isn’t it?

Again, Sakura rather not deal with this under the influence of alcohol, but Ino’s words are like a hard slap to the face. Sakura isn’t about to sit back and let her pick apart what little happiness she’s managed to cling onto. Anger flashes hot in her blood and Sakura grits out her retort before she even has a chance to think about it.

“And you’re the expert how? Like your relationship with Genma is so picture perfect. How’s Kurenai? I’ve heard she and Genma have been spending a lot of time together recently."

Her words are snappish and harsh, and the entire thing comes off a lot more confrontational and abrasive then Sakura intends. But she’s pissed off and upset with what Ino has been saying over the last couple of weeks. Sakura knows it’s a lie. A downright dirty lie that isn’t even based on some semblance of the truth, but then again, Sakura doesn’t need it to be true; she needs it to wound. That small, dark, vindictive side of her wants Ino to hurt just a fraction as much as she hurts right now.

The funny thing about revenge though, that spitefulness and greed, is that it’s like a plume of smoke. It’s there, it’s tangible and real, but when you reach out for it, you’re grasping at nothing but air. It’s fleeting, just like the smug pride that puffs out Sakura’s chest just a handful of seconds before Ino’s face falls.

That’s when Sakura knows she’s fucked up.

Sakura immediately scrambles to try and correct her mistake. She leans across the table, reaching for Ino, but the blonde evades her gasp by pushing back in her chair and standing up from the table.

“I need another drink,” Ino announces bleakly. Without waiting for anyone to comment, she spins on her heels and walks over to the bar.

There’s a beat of silence, then the sound of another chair scraping against the wooden floor is heard.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” TenTen jokes as she stands, but it falls flat. Her eyes soften as she takes in the stricken expression that has crossed Sakura’s face. She pats Sakura’s shoulder once, then twice, lips curling into a lopsided smile. “Don’t worry about her. She just needs some time to cool off. You’re both so hot-headed and stubborn sometimes. I’m surprised you two don’t come to blows more often.”

The lighthearted remark causes the corner of Sakura’s mouth to twitch, but the smile doesn’t hold. TenTen takes it as a victory anyway.

There’s a loud holler from across the room, and all three pairs of eyes search for the source of the interruption. None of them are all that surprised to find Ino sitting on a bar stool, surrounded by the group of bikers, shot glasses raised in the air in salute.

“I’m going to go make sure she doesn’t drink herself silly,” TenTen states, amusement apparent. Hinata buries her fit of giggles behind her hand and Sakura’s smirk is a tad rueful. “Be back in a bit.”

Sakura watches as TenTen treks across the room, skillfully maneuvering past one of the men that tries to put an arm around her. She smoothly sidles up next to Ino, occupying the bar stool beside her. Sakura observes them talking for a bit, sees them both laugh at a joke that TenTen tells, and releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She turns her attention back to their table and is surprised to find Hinata’s pale eyes surveying her.

“TenTen is right you know,” the quiet woman declares. “Just give her some time. She’ll get over it.”

Sakura hums her agreement, head nodding slowly, almost absentmindedly. “I know she means well. It doesn’t excuse what I said, though.”

Hinata offers a nod of her own. “No, it doesn’t. Then again, that’s what friends are for. We’re used to the good and the bad, the highs and the lows. We forgive one another, even for hurtful words.”

The table falls silent after that and Sakura takes the time to mull over the entire situation, teeth digging into the flesh of her bottom lip. She becomes lost in thought for a while, not that Hinata seems to mind. It’s her cell phone ringing that breaks her from her trance. Sakura looks down at the device just as Kakashi’s face lights up her screen.

Instinctively, Sakura hits the mute button, cutting off the cheery chime of her ringtone. She glances at Hinata, who’s is pleasantly occupied with watching Sakura’s phone light up again with another incoming call.

Brow arched, Hinata probes, “Are you going to answer that?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Sakura affirms and toggles her gaze from the tabletop to the other side of the bar to where TenTen and Ino are still occupied.

The unspoken reason why Sakura won’t answer Kakashi’s call hangs in the air between them. Sakura can feel Hinata’s stare drilling a hole into the side of her head, and she mentally prepares herself for another verbal lashing. However, the question that comes out of Hinata’s mouth is the complete opposite of what Sakura expects.

“You look pale. Do you feel dizzy or sick at all?”

“What?”

“I said,” Hinata reiterates with some emphasis. “Do you feel dizzy at all? Like you need some air? It’s probably because of all the smoke in the room. Maybe you should go out back and take a few minutes to collect yourself.”

Sakura stares, and stares, and stares; brows drawn down and lips parted in her confusion. It takes longer than Sakura would like to admit – and Hinata clearing her throat, looking pointedly at Sakura’s cellphone and awkwardly jerking her chin in the direction of the hallway that leads to the alley out back – but, revelation finally dawns.

Hinata is giving her an out.

They both know that Ino wouldn’t let Sakura hear the end of it if she were to leave unannounced, especially after everything that has occurred, but under the guise of needing some air…well, that just might work.

Without another word, Sakura stands from the table, phone in hand, and beelines for the back exit. The door hasn’t even closed fully behind her before Sakura has her phone tucked between her shoulder and the side of her face, the dial tone blaring in her ear.

The night air is humid and somewhat sticky but not so unbearable with the soft breeze blowing through the alleyway. She finds herself nervously pacing, waiting for him to answer. He picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hey,” He greets in that calm, cool tenor, albeit somewhat breathless.

At the sound of his voice, the entire world around her ceases to exist. It halts and melts away until there is nothing left but her and him.

“Hey, yourself,” She returns, fighting back an elated smile. Sakura stops walking around in circles and presses herself against the brick wall next to the bar’s back door. She untucks the phone from her chin, holding it to her ear with her right hand. “Sorry I missed your calls before, I’m actually –”

Her explanation is cut short by the sound of a dog barking in the background on Kakashi’s line.

“Is that Pakkun?” She asks, bemused.

Kakashi chuckles. The sound causes warmth to bloom in Sakura’s chest. She loves that sound.

“Yeah, it is. It’s like he knows when I’m talking to you. Hey Pakkun, you wanna say ‘hi’ to Sakura?”

There’s more barking on the other end of the line and Sakura makes a few cooing noises into the receiver. They both laugh when Pakkun howls his own greeting.

“So,” he hums. “How was your day?”

She doesn’t tell him about the argument with Ino, nor does she tell him that she has snuck away from her friends and found solace in the alley behind Konoha’s local watering hole. Instead, they talk about everything and nothing. He tells her about a new podcast that he’s been listening to recently, and she fills him in on some of the cases that she has taken over at the hospital. Sakura is overly pleased to be speaking with him, so much so, that she loses track of time.

When Ino barrels through the back door on unsteady feet, Sakura squeaks in surprise. Ino whips her head around at the noise, taking in the scene with bleary, unfocused eyes.

“Sakura?” Kakashi calls. He sounds worried and Sakura does her best to try and not be too delighted by that. She shouldn’t be ecstatic that he’s panicking over her. “Is everything alright?”

“Uh…yeah. Everything is fine, Kakashi,” Sakura assures, knowing that it won’t placate him in the slightest. “I’ve got to go, though. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

He clears his throat, and there’s a rustle on the other side of the line like he’s moving around. Sakura can tell that Kakashi is a bit put off by her abrupt end to their conversation by the way he begrudgingly replies with, “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll call you after work tomorrow.”

Sakura offers her goodbyes and goodnights, then hangs up the phone and pushes off the wall before sliding the device into the back pocket of her jeans. A hushed stillness descends on the alley, thick and stifling, but Sakura wisely chooses to let Ino take the lead on whatever is about to play out.

Ino breaks the ice with a slurred, “You know I didn’t mean what I said before, right?”

Sakura dips her chin towards her chest and offers a wan, but apologetic smile. “I know you didn’t. I’m sorry for what I said also.” She peeks out at Ino from underneath her lashes. “Forgive me?”

“Forgiven,” Ino confirms with a solemn nod. She wanders over to where Sakura is standing and leans against the wall on one shoulder. “I’m just concerned about you, Forehead. I’ve never seen you like this with a guy before. Well…not since Sasuke.”

At Sakura’s hate-filled glower, Ino throws her hands up in a placating gesture, but her grin is impish. “Okay, okay, bad joke. I’m sorry. Seriously though, boyfriend or not, you care about Kakashi. Why don’t you tell him how you feel or, at least, talk things out? Why are you both okay with this weird ‘we should be dating, but we don’t like to be adults and address our feelings’ thing that you two have going on?”

And that is the million-dollar question, isn’t it?

Why is she so afraid to tell Kakashi how she feels?

Everything about Kakashi fascinates her; from his explosive wit, to the flirtatious way he touches her, to the way he let her read over his shoulder when he is nose deep in those smutty books of his.

His smiles always reach his eyes, and he never minces his words. He isn’t afraid to break out a sarcastic quip or a tactless comment, even if the situation doesn’t call for it. Sakura understands he is quiet when he has nothing to say, and that it is often mistaken for aloofness. The more time she spends with him, the more she can read his moods, and it seems…he lives his life freely. There is no careful containment of his emotions, no order to his chaos. He doesn’t care if he is offensive or nice. Kakashi is Kakashi, not someone else’s idea of what he should be.

Sakura had been envious of him when she first met him. It must be nice, she remembers thinking. No restrictions. No expectations. No fear.

It’s what drew her to him in the first place.

Their romance wasn’t some whirlwind. There was no love at first sight, no candlelit dinners, or carving a heart with their initials into the bark of some tree.

No, Kakashi and Sakura started their relationship ass-backward. Cue one very sloppy, drunken one-night stand that left them both embarrassed, unsatisfied, and hoping that they would never cross paths again.

Unfortunately for both of them, their liberal arts college had a requirement that all freshman needed to take a welcoming seminar. The point of the class was to assist them with the transition from a high school environment to that of a university. It was a bullshit class, an easy A to put on her transcript, something that should have gone off without a hitch. However, when she came to class on that first day and found out that her partner was the guy who she slept with on a whim, two nights prior, things had gotten a little uncomfortable.

It hadn’t been easy. Kakashi was just as thrown off by the circumstances as she was, and they tiptoed around one another consistently, walking on eggshells. Neither wanting to address what happened, but the issue weighing heavy on both of their shoulders. She brought him coffee one morning, about three weeks in, and that seemed to help ease the tension. They worked together to the best of their combined abilities from there on out.

And when the semester came to a close, they just kind of…stuck together.

She couldn’t tell when it happened.

When had late night cram sessions and take-out and passing encouraging messages written on review notes turned into this? When had their usual brand of camaraderie turned into something that could mean so much more?

She can't place that moment in time where their relationship shifted from exchanging inappropriate comments in the lounge of their dorm building to this deep sense of companionship.

Because Kakashi Hatake? Well, she felt something for him – something completely and undeniably real — a kind of kinship; a connection; a sense of belonging, like they were two people who, at their bare bones, understood each other. But she didn’t know if she has earned the right to feel that way, especially about him.

What she is sure about though, is that Kakashi has always been there. Since that first night at the party, throughout all four years; the ups and the downs, the good and the really, really bad – like that one incident where a professor accused her of plagiarizing her midterm paper – Kakashi has always been by her side, and that was more than Sakura could ever hope to ask for.

Kakashi wasn’t her first choice in a man, nor was he her second or even her third, but no one else in her life was as concerned about the little things like he was. He texted her to remind her to eat on her busier days, dropped off notes when she was sick and couldn't make it to lectures, and was even open to being the designated driver on the nights that they went out. He was a pain in the ass most of the time, like a nagging mother, but he was her pain in the ass, and one of her best friends.

When graduation came along, and Kakashi was offered a position in an up and coming law firm in Iwa, she encouraged him to go with a smile.

And after he left, Sakura tried to put her pieces back together because that’s what you do when someone you love leaves. You pick up the pieces and make them work again, somehow.

And yet.

And yet…she really fucking misses him, and there is nothing that she can do to fill that void. His presence in her life is unmistakably irreplaceable, and she knows that he feels it too. All this unspoken shit that continues to grow between them needs to be addressed, but a phone call or a video chat isn’t the proper way to handle it.

He deserves better. They deserve better.

“I don’t know, Ino,” Sakura murmurs dejectedly, breaking herself from her train of thought. “I really don’t know.”

Ino pushes off the wall, flicks her ponytail over her shoulder, then gives Sakura a long perusal from head to toe. She huffs, throws an arm around Sakura’s shoulders, and with all the overzealous flare and dramatics of an inebriated person – which includes a lot of strange hand motions and head bobbing – proceeds to tell Sakura all the reasons why she needs to ‘man up' and 'tell that bastard how you really feel'.

By the end of Ino's rant, Sakura doesn't know whether she wants to laugh or to cry, maybe a combination of the two, but she does feel better about the entire Kakashi situation and where she and Ino stand on it.

"Seriously, Forehead," Ino states. "What am I going to do with you? Your love life is a mess. I thought I raised you better than this."

Sakura responds with an unladylike snort and nudges Ino's side with her shoulder.

"I don't know about my love life, but I do know that I could use a drink. Let's head back inside. I want to be on your level by the end of the night."

"Fuck yes! This calls for shots!"

-⇞-

October 15th, 2018

“Sakura, will you please put your phone away and help us? I’m struggling over here!”

Naruto’s whine goes unheard and unnoticed by Sakura. She instead focuses on holding her camera steady, lining up the perfect shot to capture a photo of an absurdly robust pumpkin in the middle of the patch. It takes a minute or two, but she finally snaps a picture that she likes. Sakura swipes right on the touch screen a few times, finds a filter that makes the entire photo pop with color and adds a silly, little gif-sticker of a person dancing in a pumpkin costume to the bottom right corner.

Sakura posts the photo to her Snapchat story, sends Kakashi an individual copy, then shoves her phone into her sweatshirt pocket.

When she turns back towards Naruto and Sasuke, they are both leveling her with varying looks of contempt – though, to Sasuke’s credit, that’s his typical facial expression. He looks more bored than pissed off.

“What?” She asks innocently.

Sasuke grunts and shakes his head, but doesn't say anything. He rearranges his arms more securely around the two pots of mums he has in his hands and then pushes past Naruto, cutting his way across the field and into the parking lot.

Sakura rolls her eyes and closes the distance between herself and Naruto, taking one of the pumpkins awkwardly balanced within his grasp. He releases a sigh of relief at her assistance, adjusts the two remaining gourds in his grip and starts to take off after Sasuke, Sakura falling into step beside him.

Most of their walk is in companionable silence; Naruto occupied with making sure he doesn't drop the pumpkins they paid a pretty penny for, and Sakura content with watching hordes of children running around the grounds with their parents hot on their heels.

They are halfway to the car when Naruto ventures to ask, "Where has your mind been all day? You've done nothing but check your phone every five minutes."

Sakura nearly trips at his question, boots scuffing along the gravel. Thankfully she doesn't harm or destroy her precious cargo.

"I have not!" She tries to deny, but Naruto is giving her that look. It's the same look that Ino gives her whenever they've broached the same topic over the last couple of days. It's the 'you're-not-fucking-fooling-me-now-spill-it' look. Sometimes, Sakura swears that her friends are all conspiring against her.

She tries to think of the best way to explain it. It's not like she's kept Kakashi as a dirty little secret from Naruto and Sasuke. It's just...well, given the history that she shares with her two childhood friends, it is a bit uncomfortable. How do you address your dating life to the two overprotective lugs who have chased away most of your romantic prospects over the years? Especially when one of those lugs used to be a romantic prospect?

"It's that guy from undergrad, isn't it? What was his name again? Hatake, right?"

Both Naruto and Sakura look up at the sound of Sasuke's voice. He's leaning against the bumper of Naruto's beat up pickup truck, arms crossed, looking all the bit off-put as he usually does.

"Is that true?" Naruto quires, turning from Sasuke to Sakura, head comically cocked to one side like a confused puppy.

She bristles, but it's not out of embarrassment at being caught red-handed. It's out of general annoyance that Sasuke always seems to know what's going on in her life even before she does.

"How the hell do you know that?" Sakura snaps, the inquiry clipped and measured.

Sasuke smirks. It's that trademark, 'I'm-an-insufferable-bastard- and-I-know-everything' simper that, once upon a time, Sakura turned into a pile of mush over. To this day, she looks back on her high school self and wonders what caused her to think Sasuke Uchiha was the bee's knees.

"It's not like you're hiding it very well," Sasuke explains, his dull tone matching his flat affect. "You two were close in university. Freakishly, attached-at-the-hip close. You constantly talk about him or bring him up in conversation, and you don’t even realize it. It’s like it’s natural for you to talk about him. Plus...," If possible Sasuke's smile grows all the more condescending. "He's your top best friend on Snapchat."

“Ohhh,” Naturo screeches, excitement mounting. “You know what that means!”

Embarrassment tickles along the expanse of the back of her neck, hot and apparent. Sakura scowls, gritting her teeth and tries to ignore the sudden rise in her body temperature.

"What are you, my stalker now?"

Her jibe doesn't garner her the reaction that she would have preferred. Sasuke outright disregards her and Naruto bursts into a fit of giddy snickers. Sakura somehow finds herself once again overcome with the shocking realization that these two idiots are like brothers to her. Two brothers that are pushing her into dangerous territory. The ‘were-gonna-talk-about-the-birds-and-the-bees’ territory and Sakura is not sure she wants to have this conversation once again in so few weeks.

Turning her nose up, Sakura strides over to the back of the truck and tosses the pumpkin she was carrying over the lip of the bed. Sasuke and Naruto’s combined bemusement follows her as she makes her way to the passenger side door, but Sakura keeps her chin held high and with as much dignity as one who is exceptionally flustered can muster, climbs into the truck, slamming the door behind her.

It's a few more minutes before the boys join her in the car, Naruto sliding into the middle seat between Sasuke and Sakura from the driver's side. The first half of their trip home is spent in an increasingly painful bout of silence, nothing but Sasuke's classical playlist filling the stillness of the vehicle.

It's Sasuke, astonishingly, breaks their self-imposed quietude.

"Ino brought it to our attention a few days ago. The whole thing with you and Hatake." His eyes slide from the road to Sakura. It's not a stern or sardonic look; it's a look that tells her to keep her mouth shut while he explains further. Sakura does right by him and actually listens for once. "And before you go off the handle about her spilling your little secret to us, she wholeheartedly wanted our opinions on the matter."

Naruto cuts in eagerly, gesturing with his hands while he speaks. "She's worried about you, you know? The whole 'I don't want her to end up alone' thing that all you girls all panic over. She wanted us to see if we could figure out what's holding you back from finally putting yourself out there with this guy."

He leans in close for his next words, resting his head in the nook between her next and shoulder.

"And imagine our surprise, Sakura-chan, that we had to find out you were seeing a man, behind our backs, from Ino of all people!" Naruto's childish antics bleed through his mock upset. He pouts his his lips and bats his eyes, but he's smiling, and Sakura doesn't fall for his games.

"He wasn't a secret per se," she whispers sheepishly, shrugging Naruto off. She doesn't let him get far though. Before he can fully recover from her shove, Sakura tucks herself against his side, resting her head on his chest. One of his arms comes across her back, pulling her closer.

Sasuke huffs one of those weird sorts of breaths that you can’t tell if he’s amused or aggravated. She thinks it the former, though. It's the closest thing to a laugh that she's heard from him in years. "Then why didn't you tell us about him?"

"I…don't know," Sakura reluctantly admits, waving a hand helplessly before letting it fall into her lap. "The whole thing is confusing. We're confusing. I’m not entirely sure where we’re going or even what I’m looking for. I know how I feel, but I don’t even know how he feels. Besides…talking about my sex life, or lack thereof, with the two of you is the last thing that I want to do.”

The mention of Sakura and sexual intercourse in the same sentence throws Naruto and Sasuke for a loop, much like she figured it would. Naruto releases an indignant squeak and squirms uncomfortably in his seat. His dismay is rolling off of him in waves, and Sakura feels the rise and fall of his chest as he tries to gather his bearings. Sasuke…well, Sasuke looks like he’s about as uncomfortable as someone would be if they swallowed broken glass.

“Did you…did you sleep with him Sakura?” Naruto bravely asks.

Sakura harrumphs. It’s weird, trying to have a conversation with her ear pressed to Naruto’s chest. She shifts, readjusts herself and places her head against his shoulder instead. "Out of everything that I just said, that's the only thing that stuck out? Seriously? Do you guys think I am some twenty-three-year-old virgin?"

“Change of topic. Right now,” Sasuke begs. “Please.”

Naruto snorts dryly. “We’re in the presence of an asexual being, Sakura. No inappropriate talk allowed.” There’s a beat, and the atmosphere in the car changes. The humor is gone. Then, Naruto continues in that sinfully serious, considerate tone of his, “You know, if he makes you happy, we would never be opposed to the two of you being together.”

“Hn.”

And that admission warms Sakura, right down to her very core. “I know,” she says quietly. “Thank you.”

The remainder of the car ride passes with Naruto making snippy remarks about Sasuke’s driving. As they arrive just outside the city limits, their bickering escalating into something that could potentially put all three of them into a dangerous situation, Sakura’s phone begins to ring in rapid succession. She wiggles slightly in Naruto’s arms, pulling her cell from her sweatshirt pocket. The screen is filled with notifications of missed messages, one from Ino and multiple from Kakashi.

"Your boyfriend?" Sasuke inquires. He doesn't try to hide the entirely smug tilt in his voice.

"He's not my boyfriend," Sakura corrects.

Naruto interjects with, "Well, technically, he kinda is. Or rather, he's not your boyfriend, yet. That's the keyword: yet."

"You two are insufferable."

"Don't not answer on our account," Naruto says. He's wearing a grin so wide it causes his eyes to crinkle in the corners. "Please, carry on. Pretend like we're not here. Hell, call him if you would like. We won’t say a word. Right, Sasuke?"

Sakura quickly jerks her elbow, catching Naruto in the ribs. "Not gonna happen. Do you think I’m dumb enough to get him on the phone in the presence of you two?"

“Ohhh, she’s embarrassed, Sasuke. She doesn’t want to show us what she’s like with Kakashi. Look at our little Sakura, all grown up with a boyfriend.”

“Hn.”

“Will you two shut up!”

-⇞-

Later on, long after the boys have dropped her off at her apartment, raided her pantry and left behind a mess for her to clean, Sakura Facetimes Kakashi to tell him about her day. She informs him of Sasuke and Naruto’s teasing and about how, inadvertently, he has gained their seal of approval as her ‘not real boyfriend.’

She says it as a joke, something lighthearted and playful that they can both laugh at, but Kakashi doesn’t see the humor in the situation like she thought he would.

He’s quiet and contemplative and looks far too serious as he mulls over her words.

“…Is everything alright?” She eventually asks. This isn’t like him. He’s never this quiet, not with her.

Kakashi starts at her question, like he has forgotten Sakura is on the other side of the video call. “No, no. It’s nothing. I uh…I gotta go. I promised Genma I’d give him a call after work. Something about Ino and some fight they had. You know, guy stuff. I’ll message you sometime tomorrow.”

Before Sakura can sarcastically quip that relationship advice isn’t exactly his forte, Kakashi has already hung up on her without so much as a proper goodbye.

Judging by the lack of missed calls or text messages from Ino, Sakura knows Kakashi is lying about the Genma scenario.

And She’s not entirely sure how she feels about that.

-⇞-

October 31st, 2018

"Well?" Sakura asks. "What do you think?"

Kakashi is uncharacteristically silent, and Sakura turns from where she is admiring her costume in the mirror to stare at her phone screen propped up on her dresser.

He has an odd look on his face, a cross between exasperation and unease and…longing? She’s not quite sure what to make of it. Things have been off between the two of them for the last couple of weeks. Kakashi’s been avoiding her. Their video calls are now few and far between, and if she does happen to rope him into a regular phone call, they don’t chat for long.

Sakura’s trying her best not to let it get to her, but it's not as easy as she would have initially thought. She thought she missed him when he left, but she finds herself yearning for his attention and validation even now.

“What is it?”

His reply is instantaneous. “You’re going out…wearing that?”

Sakura looks down at her witch’s costume. Sure, the black dress was a little too short for her liking, and the neckline was a lot less modest then she would have preferred, but it was cute and it fit her nicely, plus the bell sleeves really pulled the whole thing together. It also had a hood, and in the absence of buying a pointed hat, that was the next best thing.

She frowns. “What’s wrong with it?”

On the other side of their FaceTime call, Kakashi snorts. “I can see your thighs.”

“I’m wearing stockings. You can’t see anything.”

“You have a lot of makeup on.”

“I’m supposed to be a witch, Kakashi. You know, ‘double, double toil and trouble,’ and all that dramatic flair? Makeup pulls the whole look together.”

“You don’t have a hat. You can’t be a witch without a hat.”

Sakura reaches behind her and pulls the hood over her head. It rests haphazardly over her curled hair, but she doesn’t make any move to straighten it. “Boom. Who needs a hat when you have a hood? Next.”

She crosses her arms and watches as Kakashi’s eyes narrow to slits before slowly trailing down the column of her neck.

In a last-ditch effort, he proudly exclaims, “You’re showing a lot of skin.”

Sakura jaw drops open, but her stupefaction is short lived as irritation fights its way to the forefront. “If you’re talking about my cleavage, you know from firsthand experience that there’s not that much to show. My chest is basically nonexistent.”

Kakashi grumbles and turns away from her. He’s sulking, brooding in his silence. Sakura can’t figure out for the life of her why he’s acting like this. And then, finally, it dawns on her and Sakura has to fight down the unexpected bout of laughter that begins to bubble in her chest.

"Are…are you jealous?"

Her query is met with the response she expects. Kakashi burrows further into the pillows at his back, bottom lip jutted out like a pouting child, still refusing to look at her through the phone screen.

“That’s what this is, isn’t it? You’re jealous and upset that I look good.”

“You look great,” He corrects, and if it weren’t for his deadpan manner, Sakura would have taken it as a real compliment.

“Don’t change the subject. Is that what’s been going on with you, lately? Some kind of…of warped jealousy that’s been making you act all weird.”

She watches the line of his shoulders tense at her accusation, watches as the muscle in his jaw ticks in indignation, and Sakura knows she’s hit the nail right on the head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, bullshit. Ever since I went pumpkin picking with Naruto and Sasuke, you’ve been acting strangely. You don’t call or reach out as much, and even if we do talk, it’s always a one-sided conversation.”

Her frustration is mounting and Sakura knows better than to put him on the spot like this. Kakashi never reacts well under pressure, but she can’t help it. Whatever his reason is for acting the way that he has needs to be addressed now or it will eat away at her for the rest of the evening. It may be selfish of her, but she is not ruining her Halloween night because he’s in a bad mood.

“Hell,” She accuses, palm smacking the top of her dresser as an outlet to her aggravation. “You can barely stand to look at me right now!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Sakura. You’re right. I’m pissed off! How would you feel if the person you were interested in makes your feelings the butt of a joke with her two dimwitted childhood friends?”

Sakura stills, shoulders slumping as the ferocity drains out of her. "What...what did you just say?"

Kakashi's face is an otherworldly shade of purplish-red, and if Sakura weren't so shocked by what she just heard, she would have told him to call a doctor. From the bottom of his chin to the tips of his ears, his mortification and horror stain his face in blotchy patches of crimson. He tries to fix his little slip by hastily backpedaling.

"No...it was just...I uh, didn't mean it that way."

She's not going to give him an inch. "What way did you mean it then, Kakashi?"

He doesn't answer and Sakura is left with nothing else to do but stare at his image on her phone screen, wringing her hands in uncertainty.

How have they gotten to this point?

They talk every day, but they really don't communicate well with one another, do they?

Sakura understands and accepts that half of the blame is her own, but despite her efforts, everything over the last five years has come to a head. This was the issue with the dance of courtship. Especially a courtship as misconstrued and messed up as their own.

"I wanted to tell you," Kakashi finally says. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends as he derails. "I wanted to sit down and talk to you about this when I was home for Christmas this year. I wanted to lay everything out on the table and finally address this thing going on between us, and see if we could move forward from here...together. But then you started talking about Naruto and Sasuke, and they made a joke of our relationship, and you laughed along with them, and I know –"

"Kakashi, stop talking."

"You know, that's really kind of rude to say to someone who's confessing their feelings for you."

"Kakashi, stop talking."

And he does. He listens, he always listens to her, but he's not happy about it. He's frowning, lips pressed together in a taut, thin line. Sakura takes a deep breath, then another, and then another. When she finally feels the flush of her impatience leave her cheeks, she says, "I have been crazy about you since sophomore year."

He doesn't respond to her admittance. He looks shocked and angry and a bit relieved, and Sakura has a hard time keeping up with all of the emotions that are crossing his face. His eyes never leave her, though. They bore into her, grounding her. They are dark and stormy and smoldering, and for a long moment, Sakura forgets how to breathe.

Eventually, she proceeds with, "I can't tell you when my feelings changed, but they have, and I'm not sorry about that. I want you to know that my intentions of telling you about Sasuke and Naruto wasn't to hurt you or make a joke of your feelings. I didn’t know how you felt. They both, including Ino, have been pressuring me for the last month to talk to you about everything. About how I feel...and if you're serious about this...about us, then so am I. I'm all in. So, I’m going to ask: are you?"

Her profession brings back that alarming violet color to his cheeks. Sakura, with all the patience of a saint, gives him time to collect himself and Kakashi readily takes it. The way he processes her confession brings about a new myriad of emotions. His face contorts from apparent shock to pleasure, then he grimaces sheepishly, then stares at her blankly for a long while. After a few minutes pass, the corner of his mouth curls up, slowly, then the other.

And before long, he’s smiling.

It's a big, goofy, megawatt grin that lights up his entire being and radiates his absolute elation at the turn of events. Sakura doesn't think she's ever seen him look so happy.

Kakashi swallows thickly, then releases one, long, drawn-out exhale. His voice is heavy and heady with emotion when he murmurs, "You don't know how long I've been waiting for you to say that."

“Fucking finally!” A voice shouts from the doorway.

Sakura yelps in surprise and turns to find Ino leaning against her bedroom door frame. She’s dressed to the nines in her rendition of a modern Jessica Rabbit costume and Sakura finds that it’s a bit difficult to keep her eyes solely on Ino’s face. Showing a lot of skin, indeed.

“I tried knocking,” Ino enlightens, observing Sakura’s befuddled look. “But you didn’t answer and the front door was open, so I let myself in. Now, though, I can see why you were too busy to answer the door.”

Ino looks at the cell phone propped up on Sakura's dresser and her grin broadens. Though Kakashi can’t see her from that angle, Ino gives a tiny, coy wave of her fingers in the direction of the device.

"Hello Kakashi," she sings.

"Hi, Ino," he politely returns.

Sakura smacks her forehead with her palm and grumbles.

-⇞-

November 9th 2018

It has been a shitty week. A really fucking shitty week and all Sakura wants to do is go home, crawl into her bed, wrap herself into a bundle of blankets and pillows, and sleep for the next three days.

One of her long-term patients at the hospital took a critical turn, and despite her best efforts, he passed away in the middle of her shift the night before. Dealing with the family and the paperwork was one matter, but the emotional turmoil sitting heavy in the pit of her stomach is another.

Tsunade tried her best to turn the loss into a lesson; this might have been the first time Sakura lost a patient, but it would not be the last. Though the bonds she forms with those in her care are important, she needed to learn how to cope with the grief adequately. It didn’t help that last night’s shift had also been her third in a row, and the second day at the hospital that turned into a fifteen hour, around the clock stint in the emergency room.

Sakura is run ragged, emotionally and physically weary down to her bones. Everything fucking hurt, and if it weren't for the fact that she was currently holding on to the stair railing, she is pretty sure she would collapse into a boneless heap right in the middle of the stairwell.

There were other things on her mind as well. Sasuke and Naruto were fighting over something that she can’t, for the life of her, even remember anymore. She was caught in the middle of two bothersome, stubborn men who refused to apologize to one another and admit that they were at fault. She had been receiving passive aggressive messages from both of them throughout the last two days.

Ino was having problems with Genma – again – and despite Sakura’s best efforts to try and be there for her friend, Ino’s sour mood was festering to uncontrollable proportions. No amount of consoling and cajoling could calm her down.

Sakura was sure that Kakashi was getting the same treatment from Genma, but she could neither confirm nor deny that, solely based on the fact that she and Kakashi hadn’t been speaking all that frequently. Now, that wasn't to say that things between them weren't going well.

They were going better than well. Things were amazing.

After they had laid everything out and expressed how they felt, they were finally on the same page and progressing forward, together. Things were still new, but she is giddy with the possibilities of a new romance. It was uncharted territory, and though she was acting like a lovestruck high schooler, Sakura is excited for the things they could experience with one another.

The distance was still a disconcerting factor, but relationships take work and effort, and Sakura would be damned if she wasn’t willing to buckle down and power on through.

But, with the holidays approaching, things were getting especially hectic. Being in medical school, and as low on the totem pole that she was, Sakura had been forced to cover up a majority of the slack at the hospital. The patient census was low, more nurses and senior staff were taking off to spend time with their families, and it left the interns scrambling.

Kakashi wasn’t faring much better then she is. His firm is just as busy and he’s stuck covering most of the grunt work.

Phone calls were few and far between with their conflicting schedules, but they managed to text each other here and there. Or, more accurately, Kakashi sent Sakura very colorful, very threatening messages about remembering to eat properly and take care of herself.

Sakura manages – just barely – to pull herself up the two flights of stairs to the floor that her loft was on. Her mind is focused on nothing but reaching her bedroom and the sweet oblivion to be achieved once she makes it there, but as she approaches her apartment door, two things become apparent.

One, there is a teenage boy who looks barely old enough to drive, dressed in a polo and khakis, blocking the entrance to her apartment.

Two, he’s holding one of the most massive bouquets of roses that she has ever seen.

“Hello?” She calls out tentatively. “Can I help you?”

The kid turns at the sound of her voice. He looks relieved to see her. “Are you Miss Sakura Haruno?”

Sakura nods, letting her gaze shift from his face, to the bundle of flowers in his hands. She then gives him a quick once-over, recognizing the logo of the local flower shop stitched into his left sleeve.

“I am. How can I help you?”

He seems overly delighted by her confirmation and thrusts the bouquet into her unsuspecting arms. Sakura struggles to receive them without crushing a bud or two.

"Awesome! I'm glad you're here." His enthusiastic manner reminds her of Naruto. "I didn't want to leave these outside your door where anyone could step on them. You don't need to sign for them or anything. Have a nice day, ma’am! "

The delivery boy is there one second and gone the next, and Sakura is too flabbergasted to fully contemplate if she's insulted by him addressing her as 'ma'am.’

She looks down at the bound blossoms, a neat array of reds, pinks, and whites, and she spies a little card mounted on a plastic display nestled in the center.

It's a simple note, written in elegant, feminine script.

Just a friendly reminder --

Thinking of you always.

Yours,

Suddenly, Sakura doesn’t feel so tired anymore.

-⇞-

Later that day, when Ino stops by and notices the bouquet sitting as the centerpiece on Sakura’s kitchen table, she proceeds to call Sakura a sappy, love-sick fool.

Sakura couldn’t and wouldn’t bring herself to care, because it was undeniably true, and no amount of teasing was going to wipe the goofy smile from her face.

-⇞-

November 16th, 2018

"If you're not going to help, I'm going to hang up on you."

"Now, Sakura, that hardly seems fair."

"Listen here you brat. This case is the make or break of my residency at the hospital. Either you help me go over the case files, or you quit distracting me. If you keep bothering me with useless nonsense, I’m going to fly to Iwa and beat you with a stick."

“Sounds like a good time to me.”

“Kakashi.”

"Alright, alright. Geez. Remind me to never get on your bad side, babe."

“You already are!”

-⇞-

November 22nd, 2018

It's the middle of the afternoon on Thanksgiving Day, and Sakura is panicking.

"Sakura, sweetheart, you need to calm down."

She glares at the phone sitting on her counter, hoping that he could feel the weight of her scowl all the way in Iwa.

"That's easy for you to say," She grounds out through gritted teeth. "You didn't just ruin Thanksgiving dinner! Seriously, how the hell did I manage to burn a fucking turkey!"

There's a noise on the other end of the line, it sounds like a snort, she perceives it as a snort, and Kakashi is lucky that he is calling her from his office because if he were home, she would rip into him for finding anything about this situation hilarious.

Sakura settles on raising her middle finger in the direction of the phone, and that mollifies her – if only slightly – despite him not being able to see it. She continues to frantically turn the pages of the recipe book her mother gifted her when she moved out.

"If you're not going to help, Hatake, get off the phone."

"It's just Naruto and Sasuke," is Kakashi's flippant dismissal. "You could put instant noodles in front of the both of them and they would still praise you for it."

Sakura releases a distressed whine and turns another page, eyes skimming for something that she can whip together in a matter of an hour and a half. She hears Kakashi click his tongue and there's an echo of movement on the other end of the line like he's switching the ear that he’s pressing his phone against.

"Take a deep breath," he coos into the receiver. "You said you managed to save all of the side dishes, right? You can still serve those. I’m sure the boys wouldn’t mind.”

There's a murmur of another voice on Kakashi's end followed by Kakashi's muffled response. There's a pause before his says, clearer this time, “Sakura, I need to go. Make a noodle dish for the main course. I'm sure you have all the ingredients at home. I'll call you later, alright? Have a good time. I love you."

The call disconnects right as the cookbook slips from her lifeless fingers and clatters against the countertop. The noise that emanates from the back of her throat is a mix between a squeak and a whimper and is entirely distressed in nature.

Did he…did he just…?

The ringing of her cell phone interrupts her thoughts and Sakura looks at the brightened screen to see that she has messages from Kakashi waiting for her.

Kakashi Hatake (3:36:15 pm): So... I totally just said that... Kakashi Hatake (3:36:32 pm): Sorry for throwing it on you like that. Kakashi Hatake (3:36:47 pm): But it's true, and I'm not taking it back. Kakashi Hatake (3:36:59 pm): Remember, deep breathes, cook some noodles, and enjoy your time with your friends. I'll call you tonight.

For the next two hours, Sakura is too distracted with staring at those messages to try and salvage dinner.

They eat Pad Thai takeout for the main course and Sakura’s not even the slightest bit ashamed when she serves it.

Naruto and Sasuke – mostly out of fear for what would happen if they were to complain – tell Sakura it's the best Thanksgiving dinner they've ever had.

-⇞-

December 16th, 2018

Ino shows up on her doorstep that morning, and in all of her assertive glory, demands that Sakura help her bake something for her office holiday party.

Though Sakura would love to tell Ino that she is on her own, she has always been susceptible to Ino’s puppy dog eyes and her futile resistance crumbles before it even has the chance to form fully. The two of them make their way into the kitchen, and Sakura’ falls into the rhythm of a familiar and comforting routine: shooting the shit with her best friend, laughing about inanities, and dancing around her home as they prepare food in concert, singing along to one-hit wonders from the early nineties.

After the last couple of months, nothing could have been more uncomplicated or more healing than returning to this normalcy.

Cookies in the oven and coffee brewing, Sakura uses the lull in their baking to check her phone, and Ino notices the preoccupation instantly. Being an excellent friend, she misses exactly zero opportunities to rub Sakura’s face in it.

“Who you talking to, Forehead? Your boyfriend?” Her voice was sickly singsong, light, and teasing.

Sakura shoves her shoulder in repentance and laughs. It’s just as much jubilant as it is incredulous, and she shakes her head instead of getting defensive.

Sakura is in a good mood. It’s Sunday, and that means she and Kakashi have a movie date later on – which meant they would watch television while on the phone together and comment on the absurdity of whatever shitty horror film that they put on.

Ino walks over to the counter where the coffee pot resides, pours two mugs full, then returns to Sakura’s side, placing her cup on the table in front of her. They sit in companionable silence for a few moments, relishing in those first few sips of a fresh cup of coffee.

“Are you happy, Forehead?”

The spontaneity of the question catches Sakura off guard. Slowly, she places her mug on the table, keeping both hands wrapped around it and stares at Ino. The juvenile cheerfulness that her friend had exhibited that afternoon is long gone, leaving behind nothing but mindfulness and concern.

Sakura is aware that Ino’s question has nothing to do with her job, or her impression in that exact moment. It’s about her relationship and how it makes her feel and Kakashi. It’s always about Kakashi.

“Yeah, Pig,” Sakura reassures. “I’m happy.”

The gravity of the situation dissipates as Ino nods once. “Alright then.”

Sakura snickers. “I should be the one asking that question. How are things with Genma?”

Ino snorts, rolls her eyes skyward, and they fall back into the comfortable, compatible joviality that they had shared throughout the afternoon.

Later on, about a half hour after Ino leaves, Kakashi calls and apologizes, but he has to cancel their movie date. He cites work for his excuse, and though Sakura is disappointed, she doesn’t hold it against him. She spends the rest of her evening flipping through Netflix and noshing on the cookies that didn’t make the cut for Ino’s dessert platter.

She readies herself for bed shortly after her movie ends. She plugs in her phone and cozies herself between the numerous blankets, sheets, and quilts on her bed. With the lights out and the only sounds in the room being the hum of her breathing and the buzz of the heater, Sakura begins to drowse. The chime of an incoming text message startles her out of her light snooze. Glancing at her clock, Sakura grunts and rolls onto her elbow, reaching for her phone on the nightstand.

Kakashi Hatake (11:01:30 pm): I have to speak to you tomorrow. Can you call me in the morning?

Just as she begins to thumb a response, another text message arrives.

Kakashi Hatake: (11:01:45 pm): You should be sleeping.

Then another.

Kakashi Hatake (11:01:51 pm): Seriously. Put the phone down. You have a shift tomorrow afternoon. Just call me in the morning.

Sakura does as she was told, a sly, little smile on her face.

Read receipts. She should really turn those off.

-⇞-

December 17th, 2018

There are some emotions that are difficult to explain – that exist in the kind of liminal space between other, more easily understood feelings like happiness and hate and fear. There are some emotions that don’t have a name: the sensation of looking up at someone and one day beginning to wonder, not for the first time, whether or not you really love them. The moment when you get exactly what you always wanted, but begin to feel guilty for all those who never will; the sense of coming home to an empty apartment after a long shift, and feeling both an abiding comfort and a profound impression of loneliness.

And Sakura was feeling one of those confusing, nameless emotions at that moment – a deep and personal sense of mourning for someone she was deeply tied to, but unable to adequately express the magnitude of her feelings.

"I'm...sorry...," she mumbles faintly. "Can you repeat that?"

She's back in the alleyway behind that sketchy bar Ino insists on dragging them to whenever their schedules align. She didn’t get the chance to call Kakashi that morning. Tsunade called her and asked her to start her shift a few hours earlier than intended. The patient census was still low, but her mentor wanted someone in the ER that she could trust.

By the time she was relieved of duty, Kakashi was still at the office, hence the late-night phone call.

Kakashi is insufferably silent on the other side of the line. He sighs, then sucks in a deep breath. There's a pause, a beat, where Sakura thinks that he might actually elucidate what he just said, but he merely sighs once again.

"I said," He finally mutters and then stops. Sakura hears the clink of his teeth as he snaps his mouth closed.

Sakura squeezes her eyes shut, bites back the tempting urge to vocalize her inherent irritation, and waits for him to confirm her fear. It's another two whole minutes before he speaks again.

"I said, I won't be able to make it home for Christmas."

Her plea is instantaneous. "We already have everything planned."

It's feeble and needy, but it's the only counter-complaint that makes sense in her mind. Sakura knows that Kakashi understands why she's unnerved by the news. If he doesn't come home for Christmas, the next time that he would be able to visit Konoha would be in March.

March.

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He really does sound remorseful, but the sinking feeling in her gut doesn’t go away with his soft words. “I have no say in who the partners decide to keep on during the holidays. They chose me, Sakura, and I can’t change that.”

It’s the first time in their relationship that Sakura hangs up on him out of spite.

-⇞-

December 25th, 2018

“You can still come out with us, you know,” Ino’s voice echoes throughout her apartment. “Genma and I are going to dinner, and we’re meeting everyone at the bar for drinks after. Seriously, Forehead, come get dressed.”

Sakura leans over the arm of the couch, digging her feet between the cushions to keep herself from falling too far forward. Facing the hallway that leads to her bedroom, Sakura yells out, "Thank you for the offer, Pig, but I'm not really in the mood to be a third wheel to you and Genma."

She hears Ino scoff, followed by her footsteps padding down the hall, and Sakura perks up at the sight of her best friend in her borrowed outfit.

Ino chose a pair of patterned tights and an over-sized, cream-colored sweater-dress with an off-the-shoulder, folded-over neckline that she made her look diminutive and cute. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and she foregone any dramatic makeup, instead opting for a mostly bare face and some lip gloss. Ino moseys her way over to the couch and begins to tuck her feet into her knee-high black leather boots that she had earlier disposed of.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" She asks, making her way into the kitchen where she had dropped her coat on the back of one of the chairs.

Sakura sinks back into the soft cushions of her couch. "I'm sure. I'll be fine. I've got a pint of chocolate chip ice cream and half a bottle of chardonnay with my name on it."

Ino returns a second later, donning her wine-colored coat. She eyes Sakura curiously, and with a hint of doubt, head cocked slightly to the right. Sakura can see the gears turning in her head, watches as her lips part like she's about to call bullshit on Sakura's excuse. She doesn't let Ino have the chance.

"Honestly, Ino." The use of her real name gives the blonde woman pause. "I'm alright. I wouldn't let you out of this apartment if I weren’t. You know that. Go have fun tonight. Have a shot or two for me."

Ino scrunches up her nose, and her lips twist with displeasure, but she doesn't argue. She reaches across the space between them and ruffles Sakura's hair playfully. "If you need anything, call me. You know I'd come running."

Sakura gives her a dismissive wave of her hand. "Yeah, yeah. Get out of here already, or you're going to be late."

Ino doesn't fight her, and without another word, she's out the door.

Sakura occupies the rest of her evening with deep cleaning the majority of her apartment. Her kitchen floor has never been so clean. When her shoulders ache, and when her knees are sore and red from the amount of time she has spent on them, Sakura finally decides to call it quits.

She takes a long, relaxing shower, letting the hot water beat against her back and tries to find a sense of calm that has evasively eluded her for the last couple of days. Since Kakashi broke the news that he wouldn't be returning in time for Christmas, Sakura has thrown herself into her work at the hospital.

It wasn't his fault, she knew that, but it didn't make it hurt any less. Ignoring his calls and texts for the remainder of that night was juvenile and childish, and in recognizing her error, she apologized to him the following morning. Kakashi never held it against her, he understood. He always understood — that silly, stupid, reliant man.

Though things between them were fine, they weren't precisely copacetic, and the closer they drew to the destined day, the more strained things seemed to become. Sakura sent him a text this morning with well wishes for his holiday and received an immediate reply, but beyond that, she hadn't heard from him.

When the water turns cold, Sakura shuts off the shower and towels herself dry. She spends enough time in her bedroom to change into her pajamas and brush her matted hair before she beelines for her kitchen. A little while later, Sakura is halfway through her stash of ice cream, the drone of some news program on her television filling her living room, when someone knocks on her front door.

Whoever it is, is impatient, because before she can even put down her spoon, there's another knock, quickly followed by another, their volume increasing.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Sakura calls out, disgruntled at the prospect of her dessert-for-dinner pity party being interrupted.

Scratching the back of her head, Sakura throws open her door and comes face to face with a very disgruntled, yet strikingly familiar pug with a Santa hat on his head.

“Pa...Pakkun?” She gapes, caught off guard.

Her eyes dart down to the hands holding him around his middle, then trail up a toned arm, and then...he comes into view.

Kakashi is there, staring at her, looking so much the way she remembers him from their last video call.

He’s the same, but then again, he’s different.

He’s real.

He’s taller in person then she remembers, and his hair is a bit shaggier, but that jawline, the broad set of shoulders, those are all the same. Just the sight of him stirs something so powerful within her. It’s longing and something so horribly nostalgic that everything around them melts away into faded insignificance. Sakura watches, transfixed, as his mouth moves to form the one single word.

“Surprise?” It’s more of a question than a statement.

There’s a pause long enough to span a single heartbeat before she’s in his arms, squishing Pakkun between their bodies as she clings to him.

“What are you doing here? Better yet, how did you get here?” She’s vibrating with her giddiness, bouncing on her toes.

Home. This is what coming home feels like. It’s here, in his arms.

He laughs at her excitement. There's something about him that softens the longer he embraces her, giving way to such an air of contentment that Sakura can help but hug him tighter.

“It took some convincing, and a lot of overtime, but I was able to get off for the next couple of days.” The mood shifts and the corners of his mouth turn down into a small frown. His expression contorts into a remorseful grimace. “I didn’t want to disappoint you by not making it home.”

Guilt tightens her chest. “I’m sorry,” Sakura states quickly. “I didn’t mean to act the way that I did the other night. I’m not disappointed. I was being childish. I’m so sorry, but I could never be disappointed with you. Not when you’ve worked so hard to be here.”

Kakashi smiles that same smile he had when she confessed her feelings for him, and he finally does what she’s been wanting him to do since the moment he showed up on her doorstep. Her lashes flutter as he leans in, head tilting slightly. He presses his lips gently to hers, once, twice, and then pulls back, pressing his forehead to hers. He breathes out a sigh.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he whispers. "I got here as soon as I could. I’m home.”

Sakura is so overcome with the emotion that swells within her at that phrase.

The canine stuck in between them releases a whine and nips at his owner’s fingers. Kakashi pulls back further, and Sakura laughs at the dog’s antics, reaching out to softly scratch at the fur behind his right ear. It garners her an appreciative lick to the tips of her fingers.

“I love you,” are Kakashi’s next words, soft and sweet and filled with so much feeling.

And nothing else seems to matter, not the stresses of work, not the long distance, not the tension between from the last couple of days. All Sakura knows is that those words have come out of Kakashi’s mouth, here and in person, and it’s like all nine planets have aligned. Everything makes sense. They make sense and Sakura finds herself falling all over again.

She wasn’t about to let him go.

"I love you too," she breathes. "Welcome home."

Kakashi smiles and takes a step in her direction, then another, forcing Sakura further inside her apartment. He takes the time to close the front door behind him and crouch down to release an impatient Pakkun from his grasp; then he straightens, eyes having never left hers.

They are molten and warm, and he looks like he wants to devour her.

He closes in on her again, and Sakura readily jumps at the opportunity to meet him halfway, but there’s something about his movements. They're slower, more measured. He brings both of his hands to her face, runs his thumb across the curve of her lips, parting them slightly, and rests it in the corner. Kakashi moves his other hand to the back of her neck, opening his palm against the shape of her skull, pink hair ribboning through his fingers. Then still, slowly, sacredly, he tilts his head, lets their foreheads brush, then their noses, then plants the lightest, daintiest ghost of a kiss on the bit of her right cheek by the corner of her mouth. Sakura doesn’t feel as lax in this situation as he is, she doesn't want to draw this out, so she turns her head and their mouths lock instead.

Any coherent thought in Sakura’s head almost vanishes at the faint, fragrant whiff of his cologne. It envelops her, drowns her. Kakashi utters a muddled sound in the back of his throat that causes Sakura’s toes to curl. She’s the one to pull back from the kiss this time, but she doesn’t get very far before his mouth descends on hers once more.

Warm, smooth, slightly wet, he presses his lips against her own, briefly. Once didn’t seem like it was enough because a second kiss soon follows, and this one lingers, deepens. He pulls away infinitesimally and his smoldering black eyes peer into hers, which flutter in wonder.

“Hmm,” he hums with a chuckle, and Sakura hears the soft breath escape his lips, feels it as it fans hot against her flushed cheeks before he kisses her once more.

Sakura closes her eyes, fully embracing this beautiful dream and kisses him back. Her hands reach out to touch his chest, and it rumbles beneath her touch. She has a moment to relish in the feeling, and he takes the time to pull her towards him gently. His one hand inches down to tangle into the hair at the nape of her neck, while the moves from the side of her face, follows every dip and curve of her body, and comes to rest at the small of her back, tracing slow, tantalizing circles.

Their soft kisses become more passionate and the tip of his tongue, searing hot, teases and coaxes at the seam of her lips as they kiss, and Sakura doesn’t hesitate to open her mouth to receive him. All Kakashi gives her is one teasing lick before he withdraws, moving his lips to ghost along her jaw, nuzzling into her neck. Sakura moans, a delightful pressure beginning to build within her, and rocks forward to close whatever space is left between them, breasts pressed flat against his chest.

The hand on her back dips lower, squeezing over her shorts, kneading and caressing.

She pulls away from him with a breathless chuckle. “Eager, are we?”

“It has been a while,” he replies before nipping at her collarbone. He uses his nose to push the strap of her tank top down her shoulder and chases the fabric with his tongue. “That one night from freshmen year doesn’t really count.”

“I’ve sent photos as a little preview,” Sakura says, rolling her hips into his. A thrill of excitement shoots down her spine as she rubs against his hardening erection.

“Mm, but photos don’t compare to the real thing, do they?”

As delicious as his playful affections feel, Sakura would rather not waste another second. She steps out of his arms and before Kakashi can complain about the loss of her body, she’s slyly beckoning him with one finger, walking backwards into her living room.

There’s a blur of movement, a flurry of shredded clothing, and a shrill of laughter before Sakura finds herself bent over the arm of her couch.

Kakashi is between her splayed legs, his large hand pressing deliciously on her lower back, pushing her further down. He's taking his time, exploring her, reacquainting himself with what is his. Every once in a while, his fingers take off, thumb trailing across her spine, tracing the sharp indent of her waist, dipping into one of the two dimples just above her backside – the ones that she distinctly remembers him having a sort of less-than-healthy obsession with the last time they were together like this.

"Look at you," he murmurs into the tender skin at the base of her neck. Sakura mewls. “So beautiful.”

He pushes a lock of coral hair over her shoulder for no other purpose than to lick the spot he has just bared.

Sakura sucks in a breath, leaning forward a little more to grant him better access and coaxing him to where she wants him most. Kakashi readily takes the invitation, and when he's crouched behind her, he hovers there, hot breath ghosting against her skin. His fingers delicately trace along the backs of her thighs, running over the curves of her ass and Sakura can hear him utter profanities as he marvels at the sight of her, open and waiting for him.

Face still close, warming her with his breath, his finger traces a path from her clitoris, down, collecting the moisture that has begun to weep from her. He spreads it around on his way back up to tease her bud. Over and over he does this, fingers gently past her clit in one turn, then pressing hard against it on the next.

Sakura squeezes her eyes shut in frustration, feeling oh so good, and wanting so much more, and when she finally opens her eyes, lips parting so that she can tell Kakashi precisely what she would prefer those fingers to be doing, she feels it.

The hot, wet drag of his tongue, from bottom to top, followed by his lips closing around her clit. Sakura gasps. He applies a gentle suction, the tip of his tongue lapping at her intimately, while two of his fingers travel down to insinuate themselves within her. As soon as he's entered her, Kakashi curls his fingers upwards, increasing the suction of his lips incrementally to make the intensity of his caress almost intolerable. He keeps his pace steady, almost languid and a warmth pools heavily in her stomach, building up inside of her.

Sakura’s orgasm overtakes her in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though Kakashi doesn’t seem to mind. The combination of his fingers, his lips, and his tongue prove to be too much for her, and she cries out her release into the couch cushion underneath her.

She doesn’t have time to recover her breathing. Kakashi, one arm wrapped around her waist, yanks her up to a standing position. He makes sure that she is steady on her feet, before gently, but firmly, pushing her in the direction of the hallway.

“Bedroom. Now,” Kakashi commands, accentuated with a playful smack to her ass.

Sakura squeals in surprise which shifts into a stream of giggles as she makes her way down the hall to her bedroom, Kakashi hot on her heels.

Sakura’s not sure how she manages it, but she wrestles him down on the mattress first. The sight of him, lounging back in among her pillows, cheeks flushed in excitement, turns her on more than she realizes. She plants a knee on the mattress, quickly followed by the other, and she crawls demurely towards him.

When she’s hovering over him, Sakura kisses a trail up his left thigh, narrowly avoiding his weeping member that is begging for her attention, and nibbles harshly into the sensitive skin of his groin, laving at it gently with the flat of her tongue.

“Sakura.”

Kakashi’s warning is clear. He doesn’t want to wait, and truthfully, neither does Sakura, so without any concern or modesty, Sakura sits astride him, knees planted on either side of his hips, and shamelessly rubs herself against his cock.

She brings her hands to his shoulders for balance, and Kakashi cranes his neck up to kiss her just as his hands guide her as she lowers herself onto her onto him. Sakura sighs her pleasure as he fills her to the hilt, grinding greedily down onto him until she is seated tight up against his pelvis. When their kiss ends, they pull apart, and Sakura pants at the sensation of him bottoming out inside of her. His hands wrap around her hips, and he leads their movement as she continues to ground against him.

The first few moments are spent fumbling and shifting, both of them trying to find a rhythm that suits both of their needs, and try as she might, Sakura can't get a good enough angle to put enough pressure on her clit, but she's aching for it, and it causes her to whine. Kakashi seems to sense her frustration and sneaks a hand between them and harshly plucks and presses on her quivering bundle of nerves.

And then, all at once, every sensation becomes unbearable. His cock is so large and deep within her, stretching her deliciously from the inside, and the press of his fingers against her clit, the dragging of her hardened nipples against his chest. It’s too much.

A long, low moan accompanies each exhale, and Sakura presses her forehead to Kakashi's shoulder, continuing to rock over him frantically. Her body begins to coil in on itself with the buildup of another orgasm. His grip on her waist is bruising, and Kakashi starts to snap his hips up to meet hers.

Sakura can feel it, like a wave cresting in the tide, and she screams out her release, collapsing forward, sated and boneless. Kakashi stops moving, eyes closed and brow furrowed, fingers twitching on her waist. He holds perfectly still within her as she cums, a satisfied grunt escaping his lips.

Kakashi rearranges them on the bed, pushing her back on the mattress, torso hovering over her as he remains buried deep within her. When Sakura's collects herself, eyes focusing on him, he begins to move again, sliding into her in a luxuriant pace. Each time he pulls back, he nearly withdraws completely, before pressing forward until she's squeezed around him to the root. She was coming down from her previous release, and one breath later he was building her back up. This man would be the death of her.

But what a sweet death it would be.

Kakashi raises himself upright, spreading her legs wider with one hand, while the other occupies itself with cupping her right breast. It doesn’t stay there long before his fingers caress her heated skin, right up and past her collarbone. His fingers wrap gently around her neck, and there's no pressure at first, but then, there's a little squeeze. The slight amount of compression feels surprisingly good, adds to her lightheadedness, and Sakura closes her eyes and groans. One of her hands comes up to wrap around his wrist, and she cants her hips, trying to meet his, thrust for thrust.

Kakashi's eyes close as well and his rhythm stutters a little. Sakura's lids flit up so she can watch the concentration marring his brow, the sheen of sweat over his smooth, pale skin. He groans, quickening his pace before releasing his hold on her throat. He slumps forward onto his hands, one on either side of her head. Sakura wants to cum with him. She snakes a hand down between them and rubs herself frantically, trying to catch up and the other wraps around his neck, pulling harshly at the hair at the nape of his neck.

The feeling of him inside her, over and over, the press of his skin against hers, the flex of his abdominal muscles, and the delightful pain of his teeth digging into the flesh of her shoulder all work in tandem to rewind her up just in time.

He shudders over her, hips snapping and stilling, then moving again, as he releases within her. He continues with small, shallow thrusts, seeking the last delicious sensation of pleasure as his orgasm passes. When it’s finished, Kakashi collapses over her, his weight and heat welcome.

They remain like that for a while, recollecting themselves, but he eventually pulls out of her. They both whimper simultaneously at the sensation, and Kakashi rolls off of onto his side, pulling Sakura along with him. He tucks her against his side, wraps his arms tightly around her and Sakura presses her forehead to his chest, lips brushing along a pectoral. She sighs in contentment.

She feels his lips on the crown of her head, a butterfly kiss, and Kakashi murmurs, "Best Christmas present, ever."

Sakura snorts and nips at his skin. “You’re an idiot.”

He hums his agreement to her name calling, running his one hand leisurely up and down her side.

“Yes, but I’m your idiot.”

Sakura lifts her head and leans in to place a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “You’re not wrong there.” A pause. Then, “Merry Christmas, Kakashi.”

“Merry Christmas, Sakura,” he says before bending down and capturing her lips with his own.

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kaziklubaby · 6 years ago

Text

Micah Bell x F!Reader

Title: Bittersweet

Words: 3.5k

Pairings: Micah Bell x F!Reader

Warnings: (+18) Smut and Angst.

Summary:

Love of my life, can't you see?

Bring it back, bring it back

Don't take it away from me

Because you don't know

What it means to me

- QUEEN, Love of My Life.

It was another late evening in the saloon. His father bought a whiskey to himself and drank it in one sip, passing his lip over his mustache to drink part of the liquid that stayed there.

-Are you listenin' boy? – he asked. His voice like thunder, rough because of the alcohol and also slow... deadly slow, just like when he gets the fatal combination of drunk and angry.

-Yes. – Micah said, and a quick shiver ran through his limbs. He wasn't listening, of course. He had his back against the counter, looking for someone drunk enough so he could rob them blind.

-Have some money there, boy? – Micah Bell Jr. asked.

-No. – Micah was getting angrier with each passing moment. Lately, he was getting more irritated, especially around his father. And even the fear of the beating wasn't keeping him on his toes anymore.

-What's that again? – his father said, his voice getting low, but his eyes burned like jewels on fire.

-No, sir. – Micah said, not looking into his old man's eyes.

His father kept looking at him for just a little longer, asserting dominance on who called the shots. Then, his eyes moved to the barkeeper.

-Belle's in? – he asked.

-No, she's with a client. – the barkeeper said, cleaning an old glass, more spit than water on that cleansing.

Micah Bell Jr. was a scary son of a gun. It wasn't because of the way he carried himself – even if his slow steps looked like death himself wandering the earth in search of souls, no. Nor his dark clothes, and long hair, but beyond that, he was scary because of his eyes, the way he looked at people, like a mad dog.

No sound, just raw ire.

He had that look on his face that could make a grown man, even bigger than him, shiver and shrink upon it.

And tonight this man, more beast than human, was looking for a female so he could find release and satisfaction in her warm flesh, in the tenderness that he could destroy.

-You stay here, boy – the man said to the boy, and started climbing upstairs of the saloon.

Micah sighed. There he goes, like clockwork. To Micah, somethings still remained a mystery. He knew as long as he could remember what was sex, of course, animals did it, so did his father and his friends. He even got a glimpse of a wanker at the camp, that guy just couldn't control himself.

But, he didn't have that experience yet. He tried to do that thing where he rubs his cock, and it grew and got hard, but... besides the obvious feeling, he never quite came, not like he heard other talking about. It almost hurt himself once, and it didn't happen. Maybe something was wrong with him.

There, in the corner, a really drunk man was getting up, probably would take a piss and Micah could rob him. Stupid fuck would never see it coming.

The man went outside. Micah went in the same direction in that way that he saw his pa' do, really slow and silently, almost like a ghost. No one would notice a boy that night, they were having a great time, the piano playing all that songs that Micah heard a thousand times before.

Already outside, he saw the man leaning against the wall, putting his flaccid cock out to pee, barely standing still. Micah sneaked up on him, putting his hands in his coat, trying to find anything.

And the man noticed it.

-What are you doin', you little shit..!

Micah wasn't expecting the man to notice, but it happens sometimes. Sometimes plans just go south, and he had to think quickly.

Kill or be killed is an ancient instinct, lingering in us all. And it's strongest yet to be.

He threw himself against the man, his rage taking over him. Micah was strong enough, he could prove it, he would prove to them all. How could that man deny him a little money? Didn't his stomach felt hungry? Didn't his mouth felt thirst? He needed more than him, anyway. He was getting hungry too.

The man tried to get a good grip of him, but, being somewhat smaller and still with all his senses still functioning, Micah Bell the Third of his name managed to dodge. With a simple movement, just like a child throwing a ball, he threw the man on the ground. Now, Micah was in charge, and he was going to enjoy it.

He stepped on the man's face until he was sure the other was unconscious. With his body still trembling with the thrill of it, he looted the man.

A little beast he was too. Just not big enough to have much fang of his own.

Micah Bell the Third of his name, entered the saloon again. No one had noticed him, or the drunk man. His pa' would be proud, he was sure of it. The man he just robbed didn't have much money, just about two dollars, but it was enough for him. If he could not buy proper food, he could at least drink something.

-I want a whiskey – Micah said, proud of himself, to the barkeeper.

-Go home child – the barkeeper said – this ain't place for your liking.

-I said, I want a whiskey – Micah said again, angrier, his voice shifted from low to high pitched without him controlling it, and the barkeeper laughed at him.

-I said, go home.

Micah, then, ashamed of his voice and angry at the fact that the man would serve his pa' but not him, made a not very smart move. He took one of the glasses that were close to him and broke it against the counter, then pointed it at the barkeeper.

The sound of broken glass traveled above the crowd and music. People stopped and looked at them.

-What was you sayin', old man? – Micah said.

The barkeeper, just for a moment, felt a feeling of insecurity and moved his hand very slowly to reach the gun that laid under the counter, but Micah couldn't see it.

Was the man going to kill him or just try to scare him? One may never know because before anything went further, a hand was on Micah's shoulder. Not his father's though.

-It's okay Big John, he's with me. I'll take care of it now. – said a feminine voice.

Micah looked at her, still confused. Who was she? What was she doing? He could take care of that fat fucker behind the counter.

-Come now, you must be hungry, ain't you? – she said, massaging his shoulders.

He didn't know if he should answer.

-Big John, what about a plate of that delicious beans and meat that you do? Make one for him, put it on my tab, will ya?

-What are you doin'? – Micah found his voice.

-It seems I'm giving you food – she said – Where's your pa'?

-He's upstairs. – Micah said.

-Oh, I see – she said – Let's eat first.

-There's no table – Micah was getting calmer now.

-It's okay. Here – she said, picking up the plate of food on the counter – come with me, I have a table in my room. Come now, I won't bite.

Micah followed her upstairs. She had brown hair – it shone against the light of the fire in the lamps – it was loose and free like she was already going to sleep. Her green dress also seemed to glean in the night, it was of a rich color of green and it must have costed a fortune.

Could he rob her too?

As she opened her room, a nice smell came over him, it was a sweet perfume and he couldn't remember smelling something like that before.

-You can sit over there – she pointed to the small table by the window – What's your name?

-Why you want to know? – he answered, going on defense mode. People knew his pa' around town and his grandpa' too.

-Because I just bought you food, that's why. – she said – So?

-Michael. My name is Michael. – he said, trying to sound sure.

-Michael. Nice to meet you, my name is Rosalind. Now eat, you need it. – she said with a nice smile. She took off her shoes and seated on the bed.

She observed Micah eating with interest. Then started to strip herself from her clothes. Micah stopped eating at that moment, mesmerized. She looked to the wall, showing her back to him.

She took off her dress, remaining in her petticoat. She had small shoulders, her skin seemed like porcelain. He could see her back now, for she had brushed her hair to her front. A slim back, with a straight waist and a nice ass...

-What are you looking? – she said, amused, peeking over her shoulder.

-I ain't looking.

-You are staring at me while you say it. – she said, getting up from the bed, her petticoat brushing her legs, giving them shape.

-I ain't, I said it. – Micah was getting anxious, a known pain growing in his balls, but he wouldn't dare to look at it now.

-How old are you? – she asked.

-Fourteen – he said – But I'll be fifteen soon. – he had to say it, he didn't want to sound young.

-I thought you was a child – she said, pointing he's erection that was getting very noticeable through his pants – but it seems like you're becoming a man.

-Yeah, whatcha going' to do about it? – Micah said, trying to sound serious and daring, but beneath it, he was a ball of nervousness.

Micah didn't feel shame. But, he was not completely comfortable, not entirely sure of what was happening, yet his cock wasn't so doubtful as he was. That piece of him knew all too well what it wanted, even if its owner didn't connect the dots yet.

-Well, I don't know – she said, faking naivety – let me see it first.

-What you up to, woman? – Micah asked, still maintaining the facade, irritated and serious.

-Oh, you'll see... – she said, kneeling before him and opening his trousers. No one ever touched him in that place beside him, it felt strange – So, Michael, does it feel good?

She started rubbing him. And he had to admit, it felt very good, even better than before, maybe it was because she had this way of handling him, and her hands were so soft.

She looked beautiful in that position, he could see her brown eyes and the small freckles on her face. Suddenly she rubbed him a little faster, harder, and Micah felt his cock burn, but it was a good burn, the type that made him tilt his head back, and moan. His balls felt like... he didn't know how his balls felt, but it was amazing. It was fucking amazing. Micah felt hell and heaven all at once, and then, once he relaxed again, he looked at her and saw that he came in her breasts.

-Look at that... and your cock's still hard as a rock. – she said, satisfied – we can't keep it that way.

-Hey, I have no money, you can't charge me for that! – Micah said, kind of losing control of himself.

-I know, that is just something that I do for the good lookin' ones.

He wanted to ask why she was doing it. It couldn't be because of that crap of "good lookin'", he would not buy it.

-I mean it woman, why you doin it? – he asked. Fully aware that it could mean she wouldn't touch him again and regretting every part of his question for it.

-Well, if you must know... – she looked ashamed, yet he knew it was a lie too, she had no shame, she just jerked him off on the middle of the room – I really liked you... your blue eyes, your fancy blonde hair... and that temper, oh my! I just love the young and wild ones. All the things I can show them.

He was not buying it. He simply couldn't buy it. But he wanted to keep her hands on him, so he complied. Maybe she was one of those weird people that had fetishes. And hers was the young ones.

-Come here, you little beast – she said, getting up and inviting him to bed.

He followed her. Micah felt his back on the bed now and how soft it was compared to the hard ground he used to sleep. Now, instead of her hands, she used her mouth and he thought he would cum again, there and then. He moaned high, surprised at how her mouth felt so soft and hot against the tip of his cock, and soon throughout his length. The movements she made were maddening Micah, it all felt so new and ravishing.

-No, you won't cum now, not like that anyway... – she said, with a sly smile, holding the base of his cock, trying to prevent him from coming.

She took off her petticoat and Micah basked on that body. He already saw a woman naked before, nothing was exactly new, but, maybe because of the moment, he thought that she was beautiful. The way her body moved, her small breasts and wide hips, and the way the curls on her cunt were also brown as the ones on her head.

He wasn't going to expect much. He knew how this worked, and it was his time to try it. He had accepted the fact that she was crazy by that point, but, who cared? Not him. In one impulse, he shoved her against the bed, now he was on top of her, and that felt even better.

-My, my... you are a rough one... – she said, smiling. She was always smiling, accepting him also.

He was not yet the strongest of man, but he could manhandle her without a problem, and he turned her, making her stand on her fours. He knew what a cunt was, even if he never fucked one before, and he had no problem finding that entrance.

Then, he made the move that would be his favorite until he died, he shoved himself inside of her in one single motion, what made her screech.

-Come now, little piggy – he laughed. And shoved himself into her again.

Each time becoming more angry and violent, it was like that place between her legs was a type of sanctuary, and there he could pour all his anger, frustration and sadness. And he hit that sanctuary like there was no tomorrow.

Obviously, he didn't last long, he was no expert. If he pushed a little harder... maybe, he could even do it again.

-You came inside, you rascal – she said, laughing, and her laugh was music to his ears – come another time, during the day – and she stretched like a pussycat.

Not during the night, it was implied, for in that time she received the paying clients and she needed to pay for her food, room, and such.

Since that day, Micah felt like he was living in some kind of dream, and each day he would come to her, she would show him something new and enticing. First, he didn't want to come often, still unsure. But by the end of it, he came every day, and Rosalind would call him her pet; her sweet.

She would say, "come here, my pretty boy".

And Micah, bit by bit, would fall in her charm. Fall for her.

One night, at their camp, old Micah Bell Sr. looked at his grandson, and had to admit:

-They are all like horses, you see – said to Micah Bell Jr. – If you have a stallion, and you don't let it breed, it becomes tense and angry and turns into a bad horse.

Micah Bell Jr. could actually see it, how his son was more obedient, and was satisfied that his son wasn't rebellious anymore. The next day Micah Bell Jr. took his son to the saloon in an afternoon, he needed to teach the boy a final lesson.

-Can you call Belle? – he asked Big John, the barkeeper.

Soon, a beautiful woman stepped down the stairs, her brown hair made in a fine coiffure, and now using a new dress, a red dress. Her eyes gleaned by the sight of her favorite boy.

-Gentleman, how you doin'? – she asked, coquette.

-I came here to introduce my son to you. – he said in that way of his, rough and serious holding his hat, but now a bit of satisfaction painted the corner of his lips – Belle, this is Micah Bell.

-Just like his father and grandfather! I see the resemblance. You boys have all the same appetite.

-Micah, this is Belle, but you may know her by another name, like Rosalind – said his father, almost smiling.

Something inside Micah broke in that moment. And it broke in a way that would hunt him to the end of his days.

-I came here to pay you, as I promised. You did a fine job, for a woman that managed three generations of Bell's.

-Stop you now. – she laughed.

The realization sank on him. And suddenly, her laughter was a screech come directly from hell, and her face was ugly and disgusting, transformed by her treachery. Now, he hated her more than he ever hated anything.

He felt humiliated.

-Don't look so blue, my sweet, I truly loved showing all those things. – she said, trying to touch his face like a caress.

Micah stepped away and waited outside the saloon. Hatred burning his insides. When his pa' found him, he already had planned every sort of torture against her.

-You seem stupid, boy. – Micah Bell Jr. said.

Micah Bell III didn't answer that question, he was silent and still, something had changed within the boy. Micah Bell Jr. saw it as him turning into a full grown man.

-Thinkin' Belle was cruel? – he said, suddenly.

-She's a whore, can't expect anything more. – Micah wouldn't admit his feelings, not to his pa'.

Micah Bell Jr. smiled, and it was terrible. It was like his face was broken, deformed by that smile.

-All woman are. – he said, lighting a cigarette – whatcha gonna do about it?

Something made a click inside of Micah, like a new perspective. He actually could do something. But, he didn't talk about it, he kept it to himself. In the next dawn, he went to the saloon and entered through the back door.

There were many people that night, drinking, laughing, fucking... He waited outside Belle's room. When the client exited, her eyes met Micah's.

-My sugar, hi! You better? Come see me tomorrow... – she said.

-I will pay tonight. – Micah said, no expression on his face.

-Well, then come in... – she said, inviting him in.

Micah closed the door, and while she went to clean herself behind the folding screen, he pushed the chair and put it against the door. No one would enter. No one would escape.

He approached her, she was inside the bathtub.

-Busy night? – he asked.

-More or less... Enough to pay my bills.

-Don't you feel insecure here? So many men, they can steal from you. – he said, sound so concerned and naive as possible.

-Oh, you worried about me? How precious... But don't worry. Big John always comes when things get ugly. And about the money... well... I hide it in a place they would never guess.

-Don't you say, you sneaky beauty. Where?

-Guess...

He rolled his eyes around, with a sly smile.

-Your bed. – he said.

-Oh! How did you know?! – she said.

-I know you... that's why. – he said, getting closer to her.

He touched her face, tucking her hair behind her ear.

-I thought you were so mad that you would never come to see me again... – she was uncertain of what to say – Your father didn't do it to hurt you, he was just...

-Trying to prove a point?

-I dunno... – she said.

-Well, doll, nothing matter now. Not anymore – he said, letting the fake happiness slid from his face.

Before she could say something, he pushed her down the water, holding her neck really tight.

That's when she noticed that she made a mistake trusting a Bell. She tried to move and began to kick her legs madly in the air, even trying to kick him, but to no effect. Her hands tried to hold to him, make him stop, but he didn't stop. He kept standing still.

-Call for Big John now, you filthy thing! – he said – call for help! No one will help you now.

She actually tried to scream, but, beneath the water, it only sounded like bobbles, and it meant she lost a lot of air from her lungs too.

Soon, the light from her once so beautiful brown eyes vanished. She was dead. Micah felt no regret at that time. He heard someone knock on the door, surely her next customer. He got up, searched for her money beneath her mattress – it was a small fortune, she surely gave pussy like hell to accumulate such amount.

And Micah escaped through the window, disappearing in the night. His heart broken, and more broken his spirit.

#micah bell #red dead redemption 2 #micah bell jr.#pure smut #smut #angst

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