#five to six days since I got a proper sleep

[mr-urple]

The inability to sleep

[cloveroctobers]

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL — Armando Aretas.

A/N: because it’s back to school season and I thought this would be a cute idea for you mothers out there 💛😊

WARNINGS: language, mentions of a medical condition & feels!

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

“Are you ready for school, baby luv?” You question your four year old that’s seated in their car seat behind you.

“Yes mommy!” The usual hoarse tone from your daughter is heard with tiny Alisha responding; she’s practically itching to get out of the seat behind you.

She was awake before you came to wake her for the big day, sitting up patiently in her montessori bed waiting on you this time around. This was a giveaway that she’s been excited since the girl loved her sleep but Armando’s been persuasive on telling her that she’s going to have the best time learning.

Alisha was already bright on her own so you had no doubt that she’ll pick up on new material quick.

“Ready to be on your best behavior and make lots of friends?” You question as you feel your stomach cramp with nerves the closer you got to Alisha’s preschool.

Armando cuts in as he stops at the stop sign, peeking at the beaded haired girl in the rear view, “and remember what daddy told you if anyone tries to be mean to you?”

“Um? Five fingers to…their tummy!”

You cut your eyes at your man, who meets your stare with a side eye. He shrugs at your look as he says, “what? Ain’t nobody tryin’ my girl if I got something to say about it.”

You scoff, “you know how hard it was to get her into this school, don’t go corrupting her like that.”

“I’m not.” He makes a right at the stop sign, “she has to protect herself.”

“Then she needs to talk to a teacher.”

“Majority of them have been clocked out for the longest.” Armando states, “Sure they may look all prim and proper with sun rays shooting out of their heads—and I’m not manifesting like you love to say but if I ever get a call that they neglected Lishy? I’m on everybody’s ass.”

You exhale, “you know I’m right there with you but…don’t encourage her on the first day!”

Armando snorts before speaking back to Alisha, “…Make lots of friends so that nobody messes with you and if you need backup, they’ll jump in for you until mommy and daddy get there, alright?”

Throwing your hands up in the air with laughter bubbling in your throat you say, “it’s like I say one thing and it goes out the other ear.”

Sooner than later, you’re pulling up to the school which is filled with more cars than the damn freeway.

“Welp!” You quip, looking away from the passenger window, “The parking is horrendous, I guess we got to go home now.”

Armando’s circled the parking lot twice now until a security guard waved you over to the other side where there were a few parking spots that opened up.

“Stop it.” Armando scolds, “she’ll be fine. Alisha’s got my blood in her.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” you mutter while Armando mockingly smiles at you, “…I know Alisha will be great. She’s a joy to be around but I don’t want to leave her by herself.”

“Babe, we talked about this.” Armando sighs, “she won’t be by herself, with a personality like that? People will be clinging to our little Einstein. Plus, it’s only four hours for three days this week and then we’ll see her again.”

“Four hours too long!” You whined, “Next thing you know she’s gonna be moving to Belize with some random raggedy ass boy—or person—we’re inclusive over here—and I won’t get to see that precious face on a daily.”

“…why Belize?” Armando frowns.

“I don’t know! Its somewhere far from us.”

Armando shuts the engine off and looks at you, feeling the anxiety just radiating off you, “…look at it this way, we still got FatMa with us and we got four more to go.”

You peel your eyes open at the mention of your chunky eight month old who was napping in their car seat behind Armando, snoring away due to getting over a cold. You had two kids down and Armando wanted six but you were once open to four. FatMa—Belona’s birth was a tough one after you suffered from cervical edema so you were more than willing to wait for a while for any more little ones. Look at you now? Sending your first baby off and you knew you were about to be a whole mess but you always had Armando to lean on.

“Yeah…we’ll see about that.” You state before leaning your head back against the headrest, “Lish! You ready to go, because mommy’s not?”

“It’s okay, mommy. Take time.”

Your head snapped to Armando’s at her sweet words, lips pushing out into a pout as you felt your eyes burn. Armando shakes his head at you, quickly unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Uh, uh.”

Before hoping right out.

You sniff and take a deep breath then exhaled before pulling the mirror down to pat any rising tears back and then you also climbed out of the family car. As usual you were tasked with Alisha while Armando tended to Belona’s stroller set up.

Alisha held onto your hand, twisting around as she kept peeking at all the kids up ahead behind led into the school. She looks up at you, “Mommy, friends?”

Smiling softly at her you nod, “Yes baby, let’s of them. Who’s number one though?”

“Um…you!”

“That’s right, mama’s girl!” You scrunched your nose up at her with a smile, which she repeated as you leaned down to kiss the corner of her mouth.

When you pulled back, you met Armando’s eyes as he watched the cute moment between you two. He leaned against the stroller handle and shot you a small smile himself before nudging his head, “ready?”

“Yes!” Alisha bounced on her toes.

You tightened your hold on Alisha’s little hand but still moved forward to follow Armando’s lead, ‘no,’ you thought to yourself as you walked beside him.

The line moved quickly that led to what would be Alisha’s classroom. It was all a blur honestly, the two teachers were nice enough and encouraging and honestly Armando probably did most of the talking, shockingly. The head teacher, Mrs. Miller gave Alisha a colorful glittery sticker with her name on it that happened to be her favorite color, yellow and her eyes lit up.

“Daddy look!”

Armando nods, “I see mija! You look even prettier now.”

“Thanks, daddy!”

Ms. Joan, the assistant teacher smiled, “want to say bye to your family and meet some friends?”

Alisha turns to run to Armando’s legs but your hold on her hand made her stare up curiously at the resistance.

Armando along with the teachers notice this and he gives them a knowing look, you missed him whispering to them that you were more than nervous about Alisha’s big day but this was nothing new for the teachers. They tried to be reassuring but your unusual quietness was a big contrast to your chatty ways when you first met back when you toured the school a few months ago.

“I think mama needs some big love before you go, can you do that?” Armando asks Alisha who tugs on your hand, making you zone back into what was actually going on.

She raises her free hand up to you, “Mommy, hug?”

A watery smile splits onto your face as you instantly bend down to pick her up and crush her to your form. You cradle her head and slowly sway her from side to side. “I love you and I want you to have a good day, okay?”

“Kay! Luv you too.”

The sniffles were a huge battle as you held on even tighter. The teachers quietly watched on in adoration, letting you have this moment that they’ve seen plenty of times before. Armando then taps your arm, reaching for Alisha himself.

“She’s mine.” You mutter while Armando turns his eyes into slits at your dramatics.

Armando then raises his brows with a blink as he pushes out his lips, “oh I guess you made her by yourself too then, huh?”

Which earns some laughter from other parents waiting and watching but you didn’t care. You gave Alisha another squeeze before pulling back to meet the eyes she shared with her father. You squished her cheeks with a groan before handing her off to Armando who still had his arms out.

Armando lifts Alisha up into the air with a low smile before lowering her so they’re eye level, “love you my little smarty pants, be good.” He says as he pecks her forehead and then each cheek before placing her down on her two feet.

“Bye mommy, bye daddy!”

“See you later!” Armando corrects as he watches Alisha take the assistant’s hand who leads her into the classroom.

Mrs. Miller turns to stand beside the stroller on the left of Armando and watches along with you two as Ms. Joan places Alisha in between two other kids, a girl and a boy. Before the teacher can even introduce them, Alisha is tapping both to tell them her name.

“Oh she’ll be just fine!” The head teacher informs you two, “I can see it now, she’ll be okay. Now go relax for a few hours.”

“You’ll call if anything goes wrong?” You manage to say between shaky breaths.

Mrs. Miller rests a comforting hand on your shoulder, “always but nothing will.”

Armando points, “I like you already, teach.”

She grins at Armando before playfully shooing you two off. Armando spins the stroller along and the more faces you see as you take your exit you’re tempted to run back into the classroom yourself. Armando can sense it so he snakes one firm hand across your waist, leading you and a snoring Belona back outside.

It’s once you make it to the car that you start bawling and dry heaving.

“Hey whoa, are you serious?” Armando asks turning away from the open back door.

You fold your hands above your head, trying to focus on your breathing but you still manage to get some words out, “I just—s-shes so big.”

“She’s four.” Armando blinks, “not forty.”

“She’s our first baby, Arman!”

Armando keeps his cool as usual, “I’m well aware.”

“I can’t take it! Then she’ll be off to p-p-prom and marriage—

Armando scowls, “i dunno about all that mami—

“So you think she’ll be living with us for forever and single?”

He can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or serious.

Armando clenched his eyes shut, “I’m not even thinking that far ahead. You need to relax, it’s just school, we’re not sending her off to her future just yet.”

You grip his shirt, making him slightly widen his low-lidded eyes for a moment, “but t-that’s what it feels like!” You bury your head in his chest and Armando hesitates, not expecting you to do this much but eventually rubs at your back as warm tears glide down your face.

Armando holds onto you quietly as you let it all out. You were right in a sense when you laid down next to each other last night, admitting that there was a 70% chance that were probably going to lose your shit over Alisha’s first day and that you were.

Gurgling is heard around your sniffles and that instantly makes you pull back. You rush over to see Belona awake underneath a crochet blanket, eyes wide and giving you a sharp look, like she commonly does at your dramatics. Laughing through your tears, you work to pull her out of the stroller and bounce her right to your frame.

“Good morning, fatma! Are you going to be the one that promises to never leave me?” You coo against her temple while Armando just shakes his head at you, moving to lower the stroller and put it back into the trunk.

When he slightly turns to the security guard who motions that there’s a car waiting for that spot, Armando tells him just another minute with his finger. He circles back to the side of the car, hand touching your waist as you’re on mode: baby talk to Belona who’s always unimpressed by your antics.

“Babe, we can’t stay out here all day.” Armando starts.

You cut your eyes at him, “who says?”

“I say.” Armando affirms, “you heard what Mrs. Miller said…use this time to relax and clearly that’s not what you’re doing.” He eyes your tear stained face, “Let’s go do some retail therapy and hit the spot to get those empanadas you love so much.”

‘And Birria Tacos for Alisha of course!’ You think.

That made you raise your brows as Armando opened the back door a little wider so that you can strap Belona into the car seat, “not you offering to take me shopping? You hear that fatmama’s? We’re getting spoiled today!”

That earns a grin from Belona which makes you laugh as you pinch her chin.

“Y’all are spoiled everyday,” Armando announces after you triple check to make sure your youngest is secured, “I just don’t need you crying up a storm anymore today like the big ass baby that you are.”

You huff as you step back so Armando can shut the door behind Belona. You get into his face as you poke his chest, “everybody can’t be the cool dad, I’ve got emotions and your petty ass does too.”

The both of you climb into the car and you work connecting Armando’s phone to the car in search of some music and stare at him while he’s backing out of the space while the angelic voice of Mariah Carey’s, “Emotions,” starts to play through the car.

Armando pauses even after he shifts gears.

“Were you not in your feelings last week when I was on my period and didn’t want you hugging up on me? So you decided to have a whole performance belting your heart out to love songs while working out because you missed me so bad?” You tilted your head to the side, waiting for some answers.

He scoffs, “not my fault that I got some love to give and you’re one of the only ones I want to give it to.” Before sending a wave to the guard as he pulled off from the school.

You humph in satisfaction just as a FaceTime call rings in. “It’s papa Mike.”

“Let it ring, I’m not done with you yet.”

Sucking your teeth, you wipe underneath your eyes before answering the call anyway, leaving Armando to rub at his jaw in annoyance.

“G-pop! What’s going on?” You grin into the camera as you place the phone back into the holder.

Mike lifts his shades from his eyes as he says, “nothing, just calling to check in on y’all. Thanks for the pics by the way, Lish looked adorable!”

You nod, “yeah, she walked in like the big ball of energy that she is. Me on the other hand? Not good.”

“Awl no! Don’t tell me you let the water works loose!”

Armando speaks up, “I thought I was about to get my ass whooped in the parking lot for a second.”

“No!” Mike laughs, “Marcus did say you just had to let her have her moment.”

“I did!” Armando scoffs, “Then she tried to make it seem like I was going to gatekeep Alisha from ever getting married.”

“Hol up…Whatchu mean marriage?” Mike frowns into the camera while you roll your eyes.

“You two are losers! Alisha deserves to have that in her life—if thats what she so desires.”

Mike scratches at his ear, jaw a little tense, “she’s four, not forty.”

Armando was truly Mike’s son!

You side eye Armando who also gives you a look to prove his point.

“And she can get married as young as twenty-four—

Armando quickly interrupts, “hell no.”

“Nope, don’t want to hear none of that.” Mike holds his hand up, “…did Lish give belly some love too?”

You laugh at the mention of the two siblings, “fatma slept through the whole drop off—

“You were hogging Alisha anyway.” Armando adds.

Ignoring him you continue, “and you know how Alisha is with germs. She’s been telling Arman and I that she doesn’t want Bel to ruin her first day with her jeebies.”

Mike gives that rich dad laugh that’s deep in his chest, “yeah, that sounds like her! But everything else was straight, right?”

“Mhm.” Armando responds, fingers tapping against the steering wheel to the beat.

Leaning onto the console you nod your head, “yup! And we got two more days to do this.”

“Hopefully you won’t have any more tears left to cry by next week.”

Offense was on your face now as you grasped your chest, “Wooooow!”

Mike laughs, “alright y’all be good and Chrissy and I will be waiting on the call from Lisha about her first day.”

“You got it G-pop!” You salute while Mike gets closer to the screen, “and Mando.”

He leans over to glance down at the phone, waiting for whatever else his bio dad had to say.

“I see you’re playing your favorite song…don’t ever try to hit that note again, you’re an alto man.” Mike tells Armando who frowns before he sends the younger man a peace sign, ending the call which makes you snicker.

Armando exhales as he pauses the song, “tell me something mami…did you go behind my back and send my—Mike something?”

Particularly him full out jamming to the ending of this current song. You liked sneaking up on him when he was either in the at home office or gym, usually you strayed away from the gym before he tried to drag you into the room and turned into a drill sergeant but you were the one who said you wanted to tone up the baby weight after Bel. Everybody works at their own pace but that only applied when it came to Armando’s relationship with Mike, apparently. Yet you did sneak up on him after feeling bad shoving his arms off of you, bringing him a snack but ended up finding another snack and entertainment in the gym that evening.

“Not just Mike.” You mutter, pulling your knees to your chest.

Armando slowly closed his eyes before opening them right back, cause he was driving you know?

“Who?” He rasped out.

“Just the group chat with the family.” You shrugged, “and they were happy to know that you do have some rhythm…not vocals but rhythm.”

Which probably included Reggie too but just like Armando, he barely said much even in text but he was family and you loved him too.

Armando decides to let it go with an exhale of his own, “well I sent a pic myself to the work chat of you not too long ago so…fuck it, guess we both ain’t shit.”

“Arman!” You yelled, not liking that very much now that it was on the other foot.

You wanted to seem cool to AMMO and not this sensitive mess but truth to be told you did not like the sound or weight of guns so you left that to the team. The rest of the stuff? Like the tech was more of your interest but you respected their work although it spun your insides every time Armando left for work.

He’s smirking at you now while you’re gasping, hands ready to swat at him, “ah! I’m driving and Bel’s with us, we dont need your violence at this time.”

“You know what? I’m calling Mike back—no matter of fact I’m calling uncle Hondo.”

Armando shrugs his shoulders, “am I supposed to be scared? I handle snitches like you for breakfast.”

“I’ll tell Alisha you weren’t being very nice to her mommy and we both know she’s a mama’s girl.” You mock over the console while you halted scrolling through your contacts.

Armando straightened up a bit at that, “…you started it. Nobody told you to fucken record me, like that’s not an invasion of my privacy.” He grumbles.

“Oh boo-hoo you like Mariah Carey and I love my daughter, so what! Nobody is going to send us to jail for that.” You sassed.

Armando nods, “…you wouldn’t do well in there no way.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re too soft.” Armando snorts, “you cried over inside out.”

Here we go again with the disrespect!

“That’s exactly why you got disgust on that tiktok effect.” You pointed, “Very fitting.”

“…least she’s hot, which I am too so that tracks.” He’s smirks at you and you really just want to choke him.

Fanning your hand at the bronzed skinned man you lean away from him while you say, “Sometimes I can’t stand you and today is one of those days, take me back to my baby, I’m clocking out.”

Armando laughs, “you’re the one who chose to marry me babe, so you’re never getting rid of me. Like you vowed, foreva eva? Your word today is: relax. So…” he skips to the next shuffled song and smirks since it’s so fitting as it’s Outkast playing now.

“Wooo! I’m sorry Ms. Jackson, oooh! I am for real, neva meant to make your daughter cry, I apologized a trillion times.” He sings, reaching a finger over to poke your cheek which you try to latch onto his wrist to bite his finger.

Soon you’re wiping the annoyance off your face because a hit was playing and you couldn’t hold out any longer. Plus it got your mind off worrying about your little one for now and as Armando interlaced your fingers together, bringing your hand to brush his lips against your skin while you started to rap, you felt like everything was going to be alright for you and your little family.

And Armando was secretly counting down the hours to see his little girl again, he’d never tell you he got choked up looking into Alisha’s eyes before kissing her forehead but he had a role to play and that was always the calm one.

As for the whole marriage thing?

Ask him in thirty-six years!

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

[nolita-fairytale]

call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter five

summary: to celebrate a job well done, the dagger squads skips the hard deck for the night and goes dancing.

warnings: fluff, enemies to lovers, swearing, mentions of death, military & aircraft carrier inaccuracies, second person pov

wc: 4.9k

listen to: un ratito - bad bunny | la bachata - manuel turizo |the playlist

a/n: this chapter was inspired by a night out i once spent salsa dancing in san diego, monica barbaro in 'at midnight', and that video of monica barbaro & greg tarzan davis dancing in the space cowboy suits that seems to now be deleted lol. if you're not familiar with bachata, 10/10 recommend checking this video out to get an idea of just how sensual of a dance it is. rooster x reader smut coming next!! who's ready to find out how she got her callsign?

chapter four | masterlist | chapter six

The USS Theodore Roosevelt docks mid morning, and everyone aboard is eager to sleep in a proper bed tonight. You’d take the XL Twin sized beds over sleeping on an aircraft carrier any day, especially if there’s a Rooster Bradshaw in one with you. You’ve been so preoccupied with Rooster post-mission, having stayed the entire night with him. You’d fallen asleep with him in the hospital bed and, despite protocol, the medics onboard didn’t have the heart to ask you to leave. 

It’s not until you return to your sleeping quarters to pack up your things while everyone else is at breakfast that you come up for air. You’ve been totally wrapped up in your own world post-mission, that it’s almost time to offboard. After packing up your things, you meet Rooster, recently released from the carrier’s infirmary. 

“You ready?” he asks, a smile on his face as soon as he sees you. 

“I’m ready,” you agree, taking his hand in yours. 

As the two of you walk down the ramp, the familiar faces and bright shine of the San Diego sun make you realize that you really have been in your own world with Rooster – one where only you and he exist. You spot Coyote walking down the ramp with Halo, but what you see next catches you off guard. It’s Hangman and Phoenix walking together in stride. You tug on Rooster’s arm, since you’re not too far behind them, signaling to him that you want to get closer. 

They’re not arguing… they’re not killing each other. 

They’re… civil. Nice, almost. 

And was that a smile? Did Phoenix just… smile at something the blonde had said?!

“Oh my god!” you blurt out. The gasp escaping your lips causes both Hangman and Phoenix to turn around to look at you. The rest of the crew that are also in process of offboard walk around the four of you, shooting disgruntled looks as you block the walkway. 

“Sorry,” Rooster mutters to a passerby, before motioning for the four of you to at least step to the side. 

You look from Hangman to Phoenix, and suddenly, you can’t stop laughing. 

An innocent bystander would have no idea, but you know the both of them like the back of your hand. 

And it’s written all over their faces. 

“Oh my god!” you repeat yourself, your voice higher pitched as your jaw practically drops onto the ramp. “You guys totally did it!”

Rooster snorts, thinking that this must be a joke. But when you continue laughing, when neither Hangman nor Phoenix fire back with some snarky remark or exclamation of denial, Rooster thinks you might be right. 

“Wait, what?!” he exclaims, looking from you, then to Jake and Natasha. “Seriously?!”

“Whiskey,” Jake groans, shaking his head. He exchanges glances with Phoenix before continuing with, “I swear to God, she's like a truffle pig but for hookups.”

His smartass comment only confirms your suspicions, and Nat is turning bright red, unable to make eye contact with you right now. Rooster’s jaw practically drops as you squeal with delight, ready to brag about your special skill. 

“It’s a talent,” you shrug, proudly. “That's how I knew all through the Naval Academy that Jake was a wh-.”

“Hoooooookay. You’re done Whiskey,” Jake cuts you off, practically dragging you away from Rooster’s grasp along with him so that he can give you a talkin’ to about what’s appropriate to say when. 

Rooster laughs again, watching as you and Jake bicker like siblings, before turning his attention over to Phoenix. 

“You wanna talk about it?” he asks, doubtful that she’ll say yes.

“Nope,” she answers, popping the ‘p’ sound at the end of the word. 

“Fair enough,” Rooster accepts with a nod. 

“What I do want to talk about…. is you two,” Nat redirects, nodding her head towards where you and Jake have moved to. “Don’t think I didn’t notice she never came back to her bunk last night.”

The way that Rooster smiles is all she needs to know, and she considers this a huge win, exchanging a look with her best friend. 

“That good, huh?” she smirks, raising an eyebrow. 

“No! We haven’t even-, you know,” Bradley blushes, suddenly shy. 

“Damn. You really are ready to settle down, huh?” Nat responds, as she reads his expression. 

Rooster nods, returning his attention back to you again. He watches you playfully punch Jake in the chest, causing him to double over. 

“She’s great, Nat. She’s… I don’t know. She’s really fucking great,” he sighs, completely and totally infatuated with you. 

By the time Rooster and Phoenix catch up with you and Jake, you and Jake have finished your conversation – one where you mostly congratulated him and told him that she was the best he’d ever get so he better not fuck up. 

“Breakfast, anyone?” Nat asks, her eyes moving from you to Rooster. 

“Not you,” she adds, by the time her eyes make it to Jake. 

He rolls his eyes at her comment, but inside, he loves the fire she has within her. 

“Uh… yeah. Give me a second?” you request, shooting Rooster a look. 

“Yeah, we’ll give you guys a second,” Nat says, practically tugging Jake along with her. 

You watch as they go, a few strides ahead of you and Rooster so you can talk. 

“So… that’s kind of wild,” Rooster mentions, in reference to Nat and Jake. 

“Yes and also sort of… not surprising?” you suggest, earning a quizzical look from Rooster. 

Instead of continuing the conversation about Nat and Jake, you’d much rather talk about what could happen when you get back to the barracks. You take a beat, ready to shift the conversation.

“You wanna get out here? I could… tell Nat no.  Skip breakfast…. We could catch up to Hangman and Phoenix… considering they beat us to the punch?” you propose, raising an eyebrow. 

Normally, you’d never cancel on a friend for a guy, but after two weeks and a near-deadly mission, the sexual tension between the two of you is palpable. 

“As tempting as that offer sounds, I gotta go to the medical center on base for a second check up. Make sure I get a clean bill of health on land too,” Rooster replies, unable to hide how disappointed he is that he has to do this first. 

“Ugh, leave it to me to get cockblocked by the US Navy… again,” you groan, eliciting a laugh from Rooster. “You want me to go with you? 

“No it’s okay. Go to breakfast with Nat,” he says, nodding his head towards her and Jake.  

You smirk, “You just want the hot gossip don’t you, Badshaw?”

“Fuck yeah. And you better send me live updates,” he begs, earning a laugh from you too.  

You reach out, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, before Rooster’s wrapping an arm around your shoulders and you’re heading back to the barracks. Nat’s already got a place picked out that she texts you with a message suggesting you invite Halo too. After changing into your civvies, you and Nat decide to head out together to the beachside diner only a few blocks from the Hard Deck. 

Hangman: So I make you cum twice and still don’t get invited to breakfast? What’s a guy gotta do?

Phoenix: Try for three next time and I might consider extending the invitation.

Hangman: So you're saying there’s a next time? ;)

Natasha rolls her eyes at the last text, putting her phone away as the waitress approaches your table with the drip coffees you’ve just ordered. You both mutter a quick, polite thank you before taking them, fixing your coffee just the way you like it. 

“Halo didn’t want to come?” Nat asks, curiously.  

“Said she’s FaceTiming with her girlfriend but will join us in a little bit when she’s done,” you answer. “But it’s good because it gives us time to catch up! You can’t keep me waiting like this and don’t even think you’re getting away with not telling me everything.”

“Everything?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. 

“Okay, maybe not… everything,” you reply with a chuckle. “But enough is enough! Spill, bitch. What the hell happened between you and Hangman on that carrier?!”

She sighs, “I-, I have no fucking idea.” Taking a drink from her coffee mug, she leans back, cradling the hot cup of coffee in her hands as she racks her brain for any kind of explanation. “Maybe it was the high of the mission… or something… but we were both looking for you… and then we ran into each other. And… I don’t know. I was going to take a shower and he wouldn’t move out of my way… and then one thing led to another and suddenly we’re fucking in on the bathroom sink!”

“Oh my god!” you squeal, covering your mouth with your hand as you do. 

“I mean… it’s Hangman. I-, I think it was just a heat of the moment thing. Nothing serious,” she says, brushing it off as if there’s no possible way it could be anything more than that. 

“So… just a one time thing?” you ask, eyeing her curiously. You’re trying your best to get a read on her, but you’re not sure if she even knows how she feels about it. 

“Well. Technically a two time thing if you count the shower after,” she smirks, taking another sip of her coffee. 

“Natasha!” you gasp, a devilish smile on her face. 

“So… do you think it’s going to happen again? Do you want it to happen again?” you gush, excitedly. 

“I-,” she starts, before letting out a big sigh. “I don’t know.” You watch as she places her coffee mug down on the table, her eyes fixed to the ceramic mug. “Does that make sense?”

“Definitely,” you empathize with her, considering you’d probably find yourself confused in that situation too. “It’s Jake. I-. Definitely.”

“Let’s go dancing tonight,” she changes the subject, not wanting to talk more about Hagman. “What was that place we went to last time we’re in San Diego? Tango Del Rey? I know Rooster’s dying to see how you move.”

“Oh my god,” you groan with a playful eye roll. 

“But yes!” you agree. “Dancing sounds great. See if the rest of the Dagger Squad want to come with. Maybe end the night at the Hard Deck?” 

“Yeah,” Natasha replies. 

“Hi! Sorry I’m late,” Callie interrupts, as soon as she enters the diner in search of both you and Nat. “Unlike the two of you, I have a civilian partner that doesn’t understand half of what we do, and just needs to hear that I’m okay at the end of every mission. 

“The two of us?” Nat asks, thrown by what Halo has said. 

“Yeah, because you and Hangman are together, right?” she asks Phoenix, and you almost spit out your coffee. 

There’s such a genuine innocence in how she asks the question that you know she’s not trying to fuck with either of you. 

Nat’s face blushes a few shades darker while you try your best to get your coffee down without any of it coming out of your nose. You wait for your fit of laughter to pass before swallowing, giving you the freedom to now laugh out loud. 

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Halo asks looking from you to Nat, then back to you again. 

“No, Halo. No, you said everything right,” you manage to get out, as your laughter continues to grow. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume. I just thought you guys were together. I mean… he stayed with you overnight in the hospital after the bird strike and he’s so clearly into you,” she apologizes, explaining why she had come to the conclusion in the first place. 

Nat is glaring at you as you continue to laugh, like she hates the fact that you’re not the only one who sees this thing between the two of them. 

“Callie, you have nothing to apologize for,” you reassure her. You shoot Nat a glance, knowing that you’re stirring the pot as you continue with, “And you’d only have been wrong if you’d said something twenty four hours ago.”

“Whiskey!” Phoenix exclaims, shooting daggers at you for airing her dirty laundry. 

You snicker, on a power trip from the sweet, sweet feeling of being right. 

Natasha shakes her head, eager to change the subject. She stops paying attention to you, putting all of her attention on Halo as she says:

“Hey, Callie. What do you think about going dancing tonight? Think the Dagger Squad would be up for it?” she proposes, signifying that she’s done with this conversation about her and Jake. 

“I love dancing! Sounds like a great way to celebrate,” Callie agrees, eagerly. 

As the waitress comes back around, the three of you order stacks of pancakes and plates of eggs, potatoes, and bacon, decompressing in the beachside diner. It’s nice to take a breath, now that the mission is over – now that you have a whole week off, due to the mission being moved up. It’s not till the end of breakfast that you realize your heart and your belly are both now full. 

Your phone buzzes, signaling that you have a new text, unable to hide the smile on your face as you realize it’s from Rooster. 

“Uh oh. I know that look,” Nat teases, instantly knowing who it’s from. Halo’s eyes light up, catching on as well. 

“Ask him if he wants to go dancing!” Halo encourages, as you open up your phone to read the texts. 

Rooster: Looks like we got the greenlight. 

You: For all activities? ;)

Bradley: Yes ma’am. Anything in particular you have in mind?

You: How does dancing sound?

Bradley: … Dancing?

And that’s how Rooster Bradshaw ends up here, spinning someone’s abuela in a circle as the salsa band plays on. While most of the other aviators have found a dance partner in each other, or another attendee at the club, Bradley has, of course, found himself taken under the wings a group of older ladies made up of abuelas and tias who are teaching him how to salsa properly. 

You giggle, unable to take your eyes off of him, even though you’re technically dancing with Jake. You find it incredibly endearing that he’s managed to find himself adopted by the regulars – all of which continue to make comments like que guapo about him, his mustache and his printed shirts. 

Rooster’s eyes meet yours from across the room, practically beaming in your direction as the ladies cheer him on for mastering the three step dance. You smile back, grinning ear to ear. 

You cannot wait to get him alone tonight, but salsa is a social dance, so the stolen glances, the smiles from across the room, and all the sexy build up will have to do for now. 

Jake picks up on the fact that your attention is elsewhere, and he wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t have something smart to say about it. 

“You’re not even paying attention to me,” Jake complains, twirling you around the dance floor as best as he can. 

“Awwww… who knew you were such a softie, Hangman?” you tease him, followed by a loud “ow!” when Jake steps on your feet… again. 

“Well, that’s what you get, kid,” he fires back, grumpily.  

“I’m trying to help you here, Seresin! But you’re not letting me,” you point out, an annoyed tone in your voice as you try to teach him the steps. “If you’d learn to follow for once, damn it!”

“I’m just saying… think these guys need to come down to Texas… we can show ‘em how it’s really done,” Jake grumbles, as you try to coach him into being better at this. 

“Hate to break it to you, bud, but two steppin’ isn’t nearly as sexy as salsa,” you point out. “And you can’t always just do things you’re good at, y’know?”

“Who says?” Jake asks, playfully. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, rolling your eyes at your best friend’s comment. 

Jake steals a glance in Nat’s direction. He knows you’re only trying to help – only trying to give him a little bit of a head start considering Natasha seems to be a pro at this. You know enough to get by, but Nat grew up competitive ballroom dancing, and she’s practically dancing circles around every single person in the dancehall. Turns out, Coyote is an incredible salsa dancer as well, the two of them taking the dance floor by storm like they’re a part of the competition team. They glide, spin, and shake their hips to the music in ways that you can’t even imagine, captivating anyone and everyone that watches. 

At the end of each song, Coyote and Phoenix have switched partners, sometimes dancing together for a few more songs, and other times sharing their gifts with other people here on the dance floor. It’s usually how it goes at these kinds of things. 

The song ends and Jake releases you. You can see that the band has finished their set, switching over to a DJ. Of course, in a place like this, the transitions are smooth, going right from the band to the stereo system seamlessly. You’re practically shoving Jake in Nat’s direction, partnering up with Fanboy before Jake can chicken out. He stands behind her, watching her thank her last dance partner, a man who seems to be on the competition team here at Tango Del Rey. 

Natasha Trace wears a white floral dress, with a long slit up the front, exposing her long legs – the ones he had his mouth on just yesterday. Her hair, softly curled, falls just above her shoulders, and her hair is parted, pinned back on only one side makes her look like an old Hollywood movie star. 

“Phoenix. What do you say we have that dance now?” Jake drawls, his voice causing her to turn around. 

“I should warn you,” she parrots, mimicking his language on the carrier as she takes a few steps forward in her heels. “I'm an incredible dancer.”

“I’ve noticed,” he replies, the corner of his lips curling into a crooked smile. 

“You think you’re ready for me, Bagman?” she challenges, holding her hand out to him. 

“Only one way to find out,” he smirks, grabbing her hand and pulling her in close. 

As the song begins, the DJ set starting off strong with a Bad Bunny hit, Nat finds herself surprised that Jake does pretty well for himself, leading her in the three step salsa. The way his hands feel against her feel like they’re burning her skin in the most delicious of ways. She feels him lift their conjoined hands so that he can spin her around, smiling as he does. She knows this one – listens to the lyrics as they move together, taking note of how appropriate the feel:

“It's just for a little while / Mami, don't get used to it / Because love can be so beautiful / But there's always somеthing that interrupts it.”

Because what the hell were they doing anyways? And how could Hangman of all people make her feel this way? And there was no possible way that this wasn’t just temporary. Was she even willing to take the risk on him?

Instead of saying something, overthinking it, fucking this up before it could even begin, Nat decides that tonight, she’ll just dance with him. 

Across the room, as the song ends, you thank Fanboy (also an incredible dancer), before going to find Bradley. You can’t hide the grin on your face as you see him thanking the ladies that seem to have taken him under their wing. 

“Ladies, I hope you don’t mind,” you begin, nodding towards Bradley.  

“Are you the girlfriend? La novia? He’s been talking about you all night,” one of the women exclaims, gleefully. 

“Not yet, Daniela. But I’m working on it,” Bradley replies, following his words up with a playful, ‘shhh!’ 

You giggle, “You wanna dance, Bradshaw?” 

You offer out your hand, and he takes it, earning cheers and smiles from Bradley’s new friends. You can’t take your eyes off of his chocolate brown ones as you lead him across the dance floor. You feel one of Bradley’s hands slide against your low back, pulling you in closer to him as you begin to move to the music. 

“Looks like you made some new friends,” you say, batting your eyes at him. 

“And you’re gonna thank me later because I learned a lot,” he replies, earning a flirtatious giggle from you. 

“This your thing? You make new friends everywhere you go?” you continue to banter with him. 

“Guilty,” he admits, a light blush running across his cheeks. “The supermarket. The gas station…”��

“Oh God, I bet you were popular in high school too,” you groan, jokingly.  

As he spins you around, taking you into his arms, you’re all smiles. You move your hips in perfect time with his. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest with every step – and it’s not the few beers you’ve already had. You’ve been waiting for this moment all night – not that dancing with the rest of the aviators hasn’t been fun – but you have to admit that Bradley Bradshaw makes your heart flutter. 

After a few songs spent in Bradley’s arms, he slows you down, leaning close, his lips just grazing the top of your ear lobe. You can feel both of his large hands on the small of your back, pulling you into him a little closer. 

“I know we just got started here but… what do you say we get out of here?” he whispers in your ear, the raspiness of his voice sending chills down your spine.

“What’d you have in mind?” you ask, unable to find the smile that spreads across your lips. 

“Maybe… one more drink at the Hard Deck… then how about we go back to my room?”

“Please,” you practically beg him, nodding along as encouragement. . 

And in that moment, you don’t care that everyone is watching, that you and Bradley have yet to begin, you kiss him right then and there in the middle of the dance floor. Your passionate lip lock earns a few looks from other dancers, and you can hear a few of the other aviators point it out with a few whoops, hollers, and catcalls in response. As you pull away from the kiss, his face still cradled in your hands, you ask him:

“Cool if I go find Jake and Nat? Say goodbye?”

“Totally. But I’d be careful if I were you. They were practically fucking on the dance floor a minute ago,” he replies with a groan. 

“Gross,” you scoff, even though you could care less. 

But you don’t find Jake with Nat, spotting her on the dance floor doing all kinds of tricks with Coyote again. You wonder where Jake went, pushing through a crowd of people before you spot him upstairs. You hurry up the flight of stairs that leads to the balcony, finding him perched there, leaning up against the railing and nursing a Lonestar. 

“Hey! Rooster said you and Nat were practically fucking on the dance floor. Anything I should know?” you comment, as you approach the blonde. 

He smirks, taking another drink of his tallboy. 

“So you and Rooster, huh?” Jake asks back so that he doesn’t have to answer your question.

And because, of course his best friend would fall for fuckin’ Bradshaw. 

“Yeah, me and Rooster,” you answer, truthfully, sliding into the space next to him. “We’re actually going to head out. That’s why I was looking for you. Didn’t want to go without saying goodbye.”

Jake searches your face. There’s nothing but genuine admiration and honesty, and it’s given you a glow. He can see how happy you are, and he’s not going to rain on your parade just because he and the guy have some kind of unspoken rivalry. Playfully, he bumps his shoulder against you, earning a giggle from you. You return the shoulder bump before returning to your previous question. 

You watch Jake, following his gaze out over the dancehall. Nat’s finally taken a break, crowded around the bar as Bob tells some wild story to her, Fanboy, and Payback. It’s so freaking obvious that it’s painful: he can’t take his eyes off of Natasha Trace. 

“You should tell her how you feel,” you chime in, bumping his shoulder with yours again 

Jake shoots you a glance from the side – the kind that says, ‘what the hell are you talking about?’

“You forget that I’ve known you since you were twenty, Seresin. And I've spent the last two weeks watching you pine after her,” you point out. 

“I do not pine!” he protests. 

“Yes you do!” you push back. 

He waits a few beats, thinking it over, weighing his options. 

“What if… she’s not into it?” he finally asks, dragging out each word like they’re heavy on his lips. 

“Why don’t you go find out?” you encourage. You give his shoulder a friendly squeeze before turning to go. 

“Be safe, kid!” Jake calls after you. 

“Thanks, Dad,” you scowl, your feet hitting the top of the stairs as you do. 

Jake enjoys the view and his beer on the balcony for a little longer, taking a few moments to himself. The DJ set is about halfway through, and he notices that the aviators, previously crowded around the bar, seem to have returned to the dance floor. 

It’s now or never, Seresin, he thinks to himself. 

He’s practically working himself up as his feet carry himself down the stairs and back onto the dance floor. He’s surprised to find Phoenix without a partner, just moving to the music as the song playing ends. He watches as her face changes, her lips curling into a smile as the new song begins. She throws her head back with a laugh, her eyes settling on Jake as he stands there in front of her. 

“This one’s not a salsa. Think you can keep up, Bagman?” she asks, holding her hand out, beckoning for him to join her. 

“Can’t be that difficult,” he says, looking around the room. 

“It won’t be. As long as you let me lead,” she fires back. 

“Ha!” he lets out an arrogant laugh, as he takes her hand. 

“You let me lead, and I’ll make you look really good,” she replies, almost as if it’s a challenge. 

“Deal,” Jake agrees. 

“So it’s kinda like salsa: three steps left, then three right,” she coaches him, lowering her voice so that she’s practically purring in his ear. Nat wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him close into her. The edges of their faces are pressed together, and Jake mimicks her, sliding an arm around her waist too.

“Only bachata…” she says, beginning to walk in a circle. She steps forward, so that they’re practically chest to chest, keeping the rhythm with her feet as she adjusts their positioning. “... is danced from here.”

Jake gulps, realizing that she’s practically straddling one of his legs, her forehead now pressed against his. He lets her lead, watching as she moves around him from this fucking close: a sway of her hips in perfect time, a circle with her shoulders till she’s body rolling against the front of him, and then they’re taking three steps right, and three steps left. 

“Jeez, Tash…” he groans, earning a wicked smile from her. 

He’s not sure where that came from. He’s never called her that before. But then again, they’d never let the tension between them go this far. 

There’s no way this is actually the dance. She’s totally fucking with me. Testing my patience, right? Jake thinks to himself, feeling his pants becoming a little bit tighter as she moves against him. 

But Jake looks around the room, shocked to see everyone on the dance floor moving this sensually too. Hell, she’s practically riding his thigh in front of everyone and he’s just letting her. 

“The hell’d you learn how to dance like this?” he asks, biting back a moan. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she smirks cockily. 

She holds up an arm for him to spin, creating distance so they both can. When she returns to Jake, this time, she presses her back against him, swaying her hips against his in perfect time. 

It’s pure fucking torture. 

“I-, I would,” he mumbles into her ear, ever sarcastic bone in his body giving way to the growing erection he’s got in his pants. 

She chuckles, spinning herself out, then back into his arms in their original position. 

“That’s not the question you should be asking, Bagman,” she says, glancing down at his zipper. 

He’s trying his best to focus on the steps – and not stepping on her feet – but his concentration is getting incredibly blurry with how she’s moving against him. With how close she is. With how fucking hot he finds this. As they move, three steps right, three steps left, his hands begin traveling lower, pressing her against him from her low back, from the top of her ass, and Natasha Trace knows exactly what she’s doing. 

“Fuck,” Jake groans, feeling as she rolls against him, the song beginning to end. He’s frozen in a moment in time and he can’t let go of her – not yet. 

“Can I take you home?” he finally asks. 

“I thought you’d never ask,” she replies, dragging her arm across his chest as she begins to walk in a circle behind him. Once she reaches his back, she pulls him in close, leaning in to whisper:

“Meet me in the car in five.”

read: chapter six

*

a/n: someone has to say it. halo is the hero of this chapter with her line: you and hangman are together right? now who's ready for some rooster smut!?

taglist: @not-two-shrimp @wishfulwithwine @hangmanscoming @thefourrealms@hlkwrites @dlea203 @translatemunson @starlightstories @genius2050

[maddys-nerd-blog]

After five-six months of writing and chipping away at this beast…

I proudly present to you my short story!

For context before going in! This is a tie-in to my current Familia AU, this takes place between the end of Familia: Through Space and Time, and the middle of Familia Forever, hence the addition of Mikey on the team and Katie being able to mutate into a jaguar! Also since this is a crossover AU there’s multiple versions of the characters! Here’s the key to who’s who in each series’s release date order:

2003 Hun

2007 Raph

2012 Casey Jones, Mondo Gecko

Bayverse Mikey

Rise Leo, Dastardly Danny

Mutant Mayhem/ Tales of the TMNT Donnie

Katie is my OC, as well as Grace who’s only briefly mentioned. The setting is the 2003 universe. There’s gonna be tons of whump in this one so be warned! 🤣 And there’s some Spanish in here cuz Katie is half Hispanic, so please let me know if I got something wrong as I don’t know the language 😅

NOW ONTO THE FANFICTION PROPER!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ransom

A TMNT Crossover Short Story Fanfic

Part One: It Takes One Second

Sunlight poured into the room through the slits in the shuttered blinds, warm and inviting, greeting a new day. The loft was awash with streams of soft hues of yellow that colored the walls and floors. Beyond the tiny hovel of a bedroom they’d sorted this space into, the faint rumble of a train speeding through the Manhattan subway shook the ceiling’s foundation, akin to a mother rocking their newborn. It was a familiar sound that brought comfort.

For Danny, he couldn’t sleep without the noise. The Hidden City was a bustling jungle almost as big as New York itself, though he couldn’t say he’d traverse the metropolis as easily as his home turf. The streets were busier. Louder. Jam packed with humans that cast him sideways glances if he didn’t carry a Cloaking Broach on hand when he did make those trips. Too much noise, too many cranky business schmucks, rowdy pedestrians. It was easier getting through the damn alleys than taking the main roads.

But the quiet was nice. Especially if it came with a lovely view.

He was an early riser by nature— it came with the job. Always waking up at the crack of dawn just as the sun kissed the morning horizon to color the sky in brilliant tones of pale yellow and tangerine orange. There was no greater sight than the Hidden City in the early morning. Yet he couldn’t quite explain the catch of breath in his throat as he stared down upon the slumbering form of the human detective at his side.

Katie’s body was covered in the quilt that draped over her bed frame most of the time, lips pursed slightly as she breathed. Her hair was getting longer around the back, he noticed. Tussled charcoal locks fell around her face like a messy curtain that framed her brow. The robotic appendage was draped over her side, titanium glinting in the slim rays of sun that managed to travel across the bed. She somehow managed to look even more gorgeous every time he looked at her.

How th’ hell did a human woman manage to do this to me? He wondered.

Danny could lay beside her all day and just stare at her— taking in her beauty, listen to the gentle rhythmic sound of her heartbeat, put every detail of her face to memory to capture it within his fondest dreams. He would, if he could. But the day was just beginning, and they still had responsibilities to keep up on.

Putting a hand on her shoulder he gave her a gentle shake. “Kat. Hey. We gotta get moving.”

Katie sleepily grumbled something unintelligible under her breath, burying her face into her pillow.

He chuckled at the sight. “Maravilla,” he sang with another gentle shake of her shoulder. “Despertar.”

Katie moaned this time, metal hand slowly coming to reach for her face to rub the heel of her palm into droopy eyes that were thick with sleep. “‘See you’ve been practicing your Spanish,” she mumbled.

“Ya like it?” Danny arched a playful eyebrow, smirking down at her. “I think it’s coming together. It gives me more of a… how do ya call it, sexy charisma, ah?”

“Cabron.” Katie grinned teasingly at him.

“Madam!” He sat up on his elbows a little to feign an indignant gasp, dramatically putting a hand to his chest. “Such foul language!”

“I’m shocked you understood that much.”

“Okay NOW you’re just bein’ cranky.”

“I’m not a morning person.”

“Clearly.”

Katie’s eyes opened halfway— stunning bright emerald orbs glared against the sunlight, making them shine like gemstones. “You’re feisty this morning.” She cracked a devilish smile. “I like it.”

“Oh?” Dropping his voice low for only her ears to hear, he moved without hesitation; with one arm he drew her close to his chest, the other hand coming up to caress her face. “Maybe I should tell ya how I really feel.”

Still smirking Katie breathed. “Enlighten me.”

Danny happily obliged, capturing her throat in a lingering kiss that left the detective speechless. “Eres tan hermosa como el sol de verano. Con una figura asesina a juego.” He peppered her neck with kisses, making her giggle. Raising his gaze back to match hers he murmured, “Y un par de ojos que podrían matar a un hombre.”

Katie gasped so quietly he nearly missed it. For a moment he thought he’d said something wrong— he’d only been learning Spanish for a few months, he was bound to make an error in translation. She suddenly touched his face, loving and tender, lips drawn into a beautiful grin that looked moved by his words. “You really mean that?”

“Every word.” He leaned up and kissed her forehead this time. Properly pulling himself to sit upright, his spine cracked simultaneously from the movement, making him flinch. Katie nestled closer to him, head coming to rest on his shoulder as she drew herself up against the headboard. “It’s not everyday a man treats me like an equal instead of an object. This is nice.”

“You kidding?” Danny gingerly raked his fingers through her hair— taking care not to pull his claws through tangles or knots. “Any man should treat his woman like a queen. There’s no exception unless yer a callous prick.”

Katie stuck her tongue out at him playfully. “Such a gentleman.”

“I try,” he shrugged. “Some of th’ time it’s hard t’ keep up this image.”

“Why, cuz women will hound you?”

“Oh that’ll happen regardless. Have you seen my face? Ya don’t get perfection like this every day.”

“Glad to know you’re humble.”

“You know you love me.”

“Unfortunately I do,” Katie giggled, scrunching her nose in that mischievous way he loved. “You wouldn’t cut your losses and turn tail, right?”

Danny snorted; pushing her bangs out of her eyes, he lowered his forehead to let it rest against her own, letting this moment linger for as long as he could. She was warm. She was radiant. She was all the things he couldn’t be. “Ya ain’t getting rid of me that easily.”

“That a promise?”

“If ya want it to be.”

*********************

“Mooooooom! Raph’s hogging the bathroom again!”

“We have another one downstairs.”

“But it’s so far away!”

“If you can’t walk fifteen steps up and down to the basement, we have SERIOUS problems.”

Flopping onto the couch with an outlandish whine, Leo picked up a throw pillow and threw it into the love seat opposite of him. “Why couldn’t we live in a killer mansion?”

“Did you suddenly forget that we’re being hunted by a psycho-stalking yōkai with a fetish for mutant blood?” Without looking up from her task, Katie flipped the frying pan full of chopped carrots and diced onion, the roar of the sizzle making her arms prickle. “Mansions are too posh, too much of a target!”

“Plus it just screams, ‘I’m an oversized, big-headed piece a’ shit with too much cash and too much free time.’” Walking past with a freshly brewed mug of piping hot coffee, Danny planted a kiss on Katie’s temple as he went. “Stayin’ on th’ down-low is better. Trust me.”

“Says you,” Leo pouted. “If I gotta be a criminal, I at least want to live a life of luxury!”

“Livin’ th’ fancy life ain’t all it’s cracked up t’ be. Appreciate th’ things ya got and you’ll be ten times happier,” Danny leaned against the wall, mug in hand. “Take it from me. It’s a nightmare.”

Leo didn’t appear to be convinced. “Well my Dad used to be a movie star before he got mutated, sooo…”

Clearly not getting through to him, Danny sighed, rubbing his temple. “Never mind.”

“Don’t worry. It takes a while b’fore anything gets through that thick skull,” Raph teased, making himself known at last as he tied his mask on. “Also, you can have th’ bathroom now, Yer Highness.”

Offended, Leo snapped, “Hey! Not true!”

“It’s one hundred percent true!” Raph chuckled, flicking the slider’s forehead. “I gotta remind ya NOT t’ do stupid shit most of th’ time!”

Swatting his hand away from his face, Leo snapped at him. “Name ONE thing I did that you told me not to!”

“That list is longer than th’ Eiffel Tower.”

“Recently then!”

“When I told ya not t’ skateboard in the subway during rush hour and ya did it regardless of traffic.”

Leo pouted. “… that was one time.”

“Amongst many other things,” Raph headed towards the pantry to rummage around for a mug. “Mornin’ Ma. Dan.”

“Hey Red.” “‘Sup.”

“What’s for breakfast?”

“Lemme see… some omelets. Extra crispy bacon. Maybe if I’m feelin’ real jazzy, I’ll throw in some fruit salad.”

“Need help?“

“Nah! Can you just poke your head into the boys’ room and wake them up?”

Raph gave a nod, heading off to the corridor, leaving Leo to sit in the living room. Meanwhile the slider slouched in his seat with a pout, arms crossed as he sulked. His adopted brother’s statement clearly left him irritated judging by the scowl on his face.

“You know nobody thinks you’re trouble,” Katie reminded, looking at Leo with a caring grin. “Raph just likes to push everyone’s buttons sometimes.”

“I know,” Leo mumbled. “Still makes me upset.”

“Hon, I understand, but you gotta know that Raph has his own ways of joking around. He never means those things to hurt you.”

“Then why does he gotta use that Smartass voice when he does?”

Not even one minute later Raph re-emerged from the corridor, this time joined by Mondo— who looked both groggy and worried. “Um, Ma?”

Katie’s brow knotted together with confusion. “What’s up? Where’s the others?”

Mondo frowned in worry. “I think Donnie is sick.”

Katie stilled. Danny looked up from his drink, Leo’s expression pinched with concern. “Sick how?”

“I went to get him up earlier but he said he had a headache. I thought it was nothing, but…” Mondo rubbed his neck. “Now he’s throwing up.”

This caught her attention immediately. Turning the stove off with a swift click, Katie started for the bedroom with a fretful lizard at her feet, softly calling as she went, “Donatello? Honey, ¿Qué pasa?”

Leo was off in seconds, scurrying after the detective. He could hear the heaving cough of someone who couldn’t breathe, a sickly wheeze pulling in air. Due to the commotion of the situation next door, Casey emerged from his room with a yawn, looking between Raph and Leo with heavy-lidded eyes still thick with sleep. “Yo, everything okay?”

“I dunno,” Leo responded as he passed. Upon reaching the doorway of Mondo and Donnie’s shared bedroom, the sound of whimpering came from inside.

Donnie lay in the bottom bunk of the bunkbed he and Mondo occupied. He was bundled up in the galaxy themed throw blanket bunched around his shoulders, eyes pinched shut as he struggled to breathe. His normally light green complexion was wrought with pain, sickly, sweat making his face clammy. His glasses and mask were resting atop the small table near the mattress, but along with it was a bucket that had just been used to catch vomit. Mikey was kneeling at the bedside of the younger turtle, reaching up a hand to feel his forehead, expression wilting. “Oh, man…”

“He’s been like this for an hour,” Mondo explained, cringing when Donnie coughed again. “He can’t even talk without barfing.”

“Oh sweetheart…” Katie cooed with sympathy. Turning to look at Raph, she gave an order. “Red, grab me a thermometer please?”

Without hesitation the older of the group darted for the medicine cabinet.

Donnie fought to pry his eyes open, puffy and weary with exhaustion. Sucking in a gasp through chattering teeth the turtle groaned. “M-Mom…?”

“I’m right here sweetie,” Katie comforted, dropping to a kneel at his side when Mikey moved aside to let her through, rubbing his head to soothe his headache. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Donnie shut his eyes, shying away from the light that struck his face. “Don’… feel good…”

“What hurts?”

“M-my… head… an’ stomach…” he rasped. “My th-throat…”

“How long have you been feeling like this?”

“Y-Yester-day…”

“What? Donatello why didn’t you tell me?”

“D-Didn’t want… t-to scare you…”

Raph returned in seconds, thermometer in hand. Danny appeared in the doorway, cringing at the sight before him. “He ain’t looking too good… what’s he got?”

“Probably a flu at best. Pneumonia at worst,” Katie put the thermometer in Donnie’s mouth, putting a comforting hand atop his head. “Just focus on breathing right now Donnie, I’m not going anywhere.”

Leo stiffened at the poor sight of the other mutant on the bed. He hated seeing his brother in pain. And though this Donnie wasn’t his blood, it didn’t change the fact that he was still a version of his twin.

And that internal instinct kicked in; Help him.

Leo knelt beside Katie to join her at Donnie’s side. “Hey, bud,” he greeted quietly. “What’s up?”

Donnie’s round features twisted into a mask of discomfort. “L-eo…?” He croaked around the thermometer.

“Yeah, it’s me,” the red slider tried to offer his tsudo-brother a warm grin to cheer him up. “Mom’s gonna help you. Need me to get you something?”

Donnie didn’t reply. The torn expression that crossed his face filled the slider with concern. “He hasn’t gotten sick in a while… you think it’s serious?”

“Hopefully not,” Katie took the thermometer out of Donnie’s mouth once it chirped. The tiny screen lit up bright red; he was running a fever of a hundred and three.

Katie’s face turned grim, the fingers holding the devise starting to tremble. “… just my fucking luck.” Turning to Danny, she spoke urgently. “Dan, can you get the boys out of here? I gotta quarantine Donnie.”

“What?” Leo blinked, looking at his surrogate mother with despair. “I don’t wanna just leave him alone!”

“I’m gonna stay here with him,” Katie reassured. “I can’t risk you guys getting sick too. Let me handle this.”

“But…!” Leo tried to protest.

“Leo.” Katie’s tone indicated no nonsense. “The last thing I want is for you to get sick too. Donnie needs space to start recovering. I’ll do all I can to speed up the process.”

The slider bit the inside of his cheek, pained, looking at Donnie with remorse. Part of him wanted to argue to stay, to comfort the box turtle, to make certain the doppelgänger of his twin brother was safe. To leave now would break his heart. It would feel like he was abandoning him…

“Leonardo,” Katie coaxed, a hand coming to rest on his shoulder. She rarely used his full name, not unless the situation required. Her eyes were empathetic. “I’ll help him. I promise.”

Hands were coaxing him to stand, guiding him by the arm. “C’mon,” Raph gently urged the slider. “Let Mom work.”

But the guilt crept through. It started gnawing on his conscience. Suddenly he was no longer a teenager— instead he was that same nervous boy struggling to help his twin breathe. He was back in that cluttered old bedroom surrounded by the stench of sick that clogged his beak, almost able to hear the far-bygone cries of his younger brother weeping for a father that never came.

With a painful grimace, the slider fled the room without another word.

**********************

“How’s th’ kid?”

Katie pressed the heels of her palms into her forehead, elbows leaning on the table to support her head as she sighed. “Running a fever of a hundred and three still. It’s getting harder for him to take a full breath— poor thing gurgles when he breathes.”

From where he stood at the sink, wrist deep in the soapy water of dishes he’d been scrubbing, Danny visibly flinched. “Damn. That don’t sound promising…”

“He’s the most susceptible to infection and flu cuz of his species type, but I didn’t think a reaction could happen this soon. I wish I’d seen the signs earlier.”

“I have connections. I can make a few calls, try and get a clinic—“

“Which ones are still loyal to Mama?”

Danny faltered. He hadn’t considered that.

“Sorry… I just… fuck, I’m such an idiot.” Katie scolded herself, fingers raking through her hair in frustration. “I should’ve restocked sooner, I should’ve gone topside—“

“Ey, ey, no ya ain’t.” Danny moved away from the counter, hooking a stool around with his tail to pull himself into a seat. “It’s been a long couple months. Ya had a lot t’ deal with. Nobody can fault ya for being stressed.” He put his hands on her shoulders, turning her to better face him as he offered a warm grin. “You’re still one woman. It’s fine. Everything will be alright.”

Katie’s emerald orbs fluttered between him and her knees, shameful. “How’re we going to get medicine for Donnie?”

“I’m sure we can find something. Have ya considered going topside?”

“A few times. But…”

“But?”

“… I don’t wanna leave the kids alone. Every time I do, shit hits the fan. I’m still technically a wanted woman up there too, even though my poster isn’t around. There’s risks of my being exposed.”

“There’s plenty of risks everywhere, no matter where we go. That’s just our life.” He brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Here’s the plan; I’ll go topside and get ya what ya need. Just write me a list of th’ important meds t’ keep an eye out for.”

“You? But—“

“I got a Cloaking Broach. Nobody knows what I look like as a human. I go in, get yer stuff, get back in under two hours maximum. I won’t be seen. ‘Sides, ya know how t’ treat th’ kids better. They need their Mom with them. Donnie needs ya.”

“… are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t be offering if I didn’t mean it.”

Katie leaned her face into his palms, closing her eyes to think. Steadying herself under his touch, the one remedy to soothe all her woes in a world of madness and despair, she tallied through the options left at her disposal.

There weren’t many. And they all proved too much of a risk. Katie’s exotic face was everywhere, plastered all over noteworthy newspaper tabloids or the TV screens. No matter where she went trouble was bound to follow. Plus, if the EPF caught wind of her being traced to the city they’d hunt for her location until the kids were found. And that wasn’t counting the yōkai bounty hunters who were interested in cashing in on her reward.

But Danny was slick, street-smart, clever, a no-nonsense man who knew his way around the city. He had the knowledge handy to find what they were looking for— specifically of the mutant and yōkai variety.

She trusted him to get the job done. That part was crucial.

“Fine,” Katie reluctantly agreed. “There should be a pharmacy two blocks down from here. Just… please be careful.”

With one of his signature sly smirks Danny leaned forward, planting a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “I’ll be in and out.”

Katie offered a wry grin. “You’re a helluva smooth talker, aren’t you?”

“Only when ya want me t’ be.”

**************************

He hated seeing Donnie sick.

Call it twin sense or sixth sense, but for Leo it was a memory that triggered emotional distress.

It wasn’t like this was new to him. On the contrary, he was very familiar with a sick brother. But the memory of such an event was one he wasn’t too keen on remembering.

Many years ago when Don first got seriously ill with the flu. They’d been seven, Raph was eight, and Mike was six. The first three days of the initial sickness were harmless— Don mostly hid himself away in his bed, sulking and whining, Raph doing his best to keep his spirits up. Mike drew him pictures. Leo had taken it upon himself to sneak his twin brother cookies when Pops was asleep.

But the fourth day was when Don started to get worse.

Don woke up weeping in pain. Not just weeping— screaming bloody murder. He could barely voice his agony, breathing stagnated between gasps or wheezes. His green complexion was pale, turning from the normal deep forest green to a lighter shade. He was throwing up violently and trembling to the point where he couldn’t speak between sharp hitches of air being dragged through grounded teeth. There was no telling when these fits of shaking would end. Between the confusion in the chaotic lair and the sickly turtle, Leo had never felt more scared in his life.

Mike was already crying hysterically in distress thinking Don was dying. Raph was rushing back and forth between the bathroom to fetch fresh water from the sink and Don’s bedside to offer meager comfort, lost and beyond his realm of experience because how could any kid at that age wrap their head around this?

Their father? Holed away in the living room, secluded, ignoring the ear-piercing cries of his twin, glued to a never ending television rerun of Japanese soaps with those vacant, unfeeling eyes that regarded the child with a level of neglect Leo had sadly grown accustomed to.

‘It is just a cold,’ he’d grumbled to Leo when he’d first come running to him. ‘It shall pass. Let it ride out.’

But Leo knew better.

Even at the age of seven he knew better.

When his father proved to be a stone wall the child raced back to his twin’s bedside, the wailing and crying shattering his eardrums. Don’s condition seemed to wither by the hour the more the children were left unattended. It got so bad Raph debated whether or not he could sneak out of the safety of the lair to go topside and find a doctor, but swiftly remembered he was too small to push the manhole cover off by himself. Three clueless toddlers fighting for stability in an environment where their only caretaker had shuttered himself away from his children, pretending they didn’t exist whilst one of their brothers had been suffering tenfold. Don’s prolonged agony went on like this for twelve hours until his crying simmered out, he’d emptied his stomach of what little he’d eaten and promptly passed out from exhaustion. Days later he was back to his casual self like he’d never been deathly ill.

On that day Leo made a vow.

He would never allow his brothers to suffer any type of pain, no matter how mundane or severe, he would be there to pick up the pieces and heal them. It was one of the main factors of why he’d taken up to studying medicine— to better understand how the process worked, to learn how to remedy the ailments his siblings went though should it happen again.

And he would never be his father.

He would never ignore his family, never abandon them, or push them away.

He’d fight tooth and nail to protect his brothers. There was nothing he wouldn’t sacrifice for their happiness or safety. Leo would do what his father would never dream of doing— being there for his siblings.

Shaking his head to clear his mind of the past, he brought himself back to the present. Peering into the bedroom, the turtle made sure the coast was clear before entering the dimly lit space.

Leo squatted at Donnie’s bedside, the younger turtle barely conscious in his sickly stupor. He knew Mom told him not to be in here for the sake of his own health, but he couldn’t leave Donnie alone. His conscious wouldn’t allow him to do so. It didn’t matter if this version of Don was significantly different or if they weren’t bonded by blood, to Leo, this was still his brother.

Donnie fought for breath. His chest rose and fell with each painful pull of air through raspy gasps, face damp with sweat. Half-lidded eyes were partially red and puffy. The bucket he’d been dry heaving into sat dormant at the corner of his bed, empty bottles of water scattered around the floor along with cough drop wrappers. The basin of water was growing warm, damp washcloth draped on the lip of the ceramic. What little Tylenol Mom had left over rested atop his drawer, untouched. He had yet to wake up.

Quietly the slider put a hand atop the younger turtle’s brow, recoiling when he felt how hot he was. It was like his skin was shimmering on high heat, boiling from within. Donnie hadn’t gotten this sick in a long time, not since he first came across their little group years ago. Just like his twin…

It was odd. It was like looking in a mirror.

The differences between his twin and this Donnie were as wide as a canyon, but the similarities were exact and precise.

Careful as he could Leo picked up the washcloth, dipping it into the basin to absorb some water. “Donnie, I dunno if you can hear, but it’s me, Lee.” He squeezed out the excess water from the fabric. “Mom says I shouldn’t be in here, but… I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

He dabbed the wet cloth on Donnie’s temple, motions tender and swift from years of practice. “Big bro’s gotcha now. I’ll pass the time by singing those J-pop songs you like! Or narrating all the Jupiter Jim comics I’ve got!”

Donnie didn’t speak.

“Or! I could pull my tablet out! Flip through Netflix, find some anime music for you to listen to?”

Once again, silence.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to choose right away! We can wait until you’re feeling better!” Leo tried to be as cheerful as possible. But the lack of conversation began to get to the slider’s anxiety.

Leo despised the silence. He’d always hated it; call it an uncomfortable memory from the past, but the quiet irritated him. No noise created unrest. No noise meant nobody was coming, nobody would bother checking on Donnie. He knew he was being ridiculous; Mom was hellishly attentive almost to a fault. One trait Pops wasn’t. One little indiscretion alerted her— even if either of them got a paper cut or a stubbed toe she’d immediately jump on top of it. ‘What do you need? Are you hurt? Did you eat poison? Oh my lord please tell me you didn’t eat the poison.’ It was a far, far cry from anything he was used to in his childhood, beyond the abandonment issues that were so engrained into Leo’s psyche not even the worlds’ best therapist could untangle those threads.

And yet that teeny, tiny smidgen of doubt poked through. The intrusive thoughts of ‘this won’t last forever.’

He shuddered. Leo scolded himself for thinking so little of his newfound family, for not letting himself be more trusting of his mother, the woman who took him in, the woman who put up with him for so long he was mildly shocked she hadn’t grown sick of his antics. The same woman who’d spent hours at his bedside, holding his hand, singing Spanish lullabies to comfort him as he sobbed after he’d woken from his coma. The same woman who’d hugged him when his crippling self worth crumbled like a stack of cards. The same woman who, despite her own demons, made him feel like he mattered in the grand scope of their crazy adventure when there were others just like him who were probably better than him.

Yet, to Katie, Leo was one in a million.

So why did he suddenly doubt her?

‘It’s cuz of you. You don’t trust anyone enough. You don’t think they’ll do more for you because of Dad,’ a voice hissed in the back of his skull. ‘If you didn’t hesitate so much when it came to talking about your feelings then you wouldn’t be a problem.’

Tears prickled the edges of his weary gaze. Why couldn’t he just allow himself to believe things were okay? Why am I like this?!

“Ya shouldn’t be in here.” Leo startled from the sudden voice behind him. Whipping his head around, he spotted Raph leaning against the doorway, staring at him with judgmental eyes. “Ma said Don needs t’ recover in quarantine.”

The slider blinked in order to stamp out the tears clinging within his orbs, trying to appear casual. “Yeah? Well, quarantine is overrated,” he said. “Who needs it am I right?”

Raph didn’t look too pleased. “Don’t dance around th’ issue. Ya know Mom ain’t gonna be thrilled t’ know ya went behind her back.”

The way he worded the sentence made Leo bristle, a wave of bitterness crawling up his shell. “I’m not going behind her back.”

“Ya ain’t?“ Raph blinked. “Oh sure, ‘course ya aren’t, what am I sayin’? It ain’t like yer disregarding th’ orders that were given t’ you in th’ first place, sneaking around when nobody’s here t’ notice?”

Leo scowled. “I just happened to come in here when everyone is busy, that’s not me sneaking. I’m… paying a visit.”

“You kidding?” Raph pushed off the doorway, tone hardening with disbelief. “Yer lying now? If ya wanna play this game, I’ll go get Ma and tell her what’s going on.”

“And what, are you the town snitch?” Leo countered, narrowing his eyes angrily. “Didn’t know you valued Mom’s praise so much you’d sell out your brother.”

“Then ya shouldn’t be in here!”

“Says who? Mom? When did you suddenly start being a rule follower?”

“Since th’ day I got my ass handed t’ me by guys who coulda done a whole lot worse t’ me had I just listened t’ Ma.”

He knew what he was referring to. Karai had nearly decimated Raph before Mom discovered his Nightwatcher persona and pulled the plug on those escapades. Fifty Foot clan members, a busted arm and spite hadn’t nearly been enough for Raph to take on single-handedly that night. It could have cost him his life. But Mom never let him go alone— she’d thankfully followed the oldest in the dingy pickup truck to ensure her suspicions were correct.

They were.

“So what? You’re the watch dog of this family now?” Leo spat, turning away from Donnie’s unconscious form to give Raph his full attention. “Over a stupid choice YOU made? Gee, sorry I’m not as good at getting caught as you.”

“Ya just don’t get it, do you?” Raph finally started showing his frustration. “Every time you do this, EVERY TIME you do this, you think you can get away scot free cuz you’re ‘Th’ Funny One.’ Bein’ funny ain’t gonna save ya forever! Donnie is SICK! Who knows if it’s contagious?! Ya get sick and waltz around th’ lair coughing and hacking out gunk, guess what?! Yer gettin’ all th’ rest of us sick! Ya want Ma t’ have t’ stress out?! Ya wanna put more on her plate?! She’s already got enough t’ put up with, th’ last thing we need is t’ have Mom on th’ floor having a heart attack!”

“NO, I don’t!” Leo exclaimed right back, shooting to his feet to face the older. “Just cuz I’m concerned for my brothers doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to check in on them!”

“I never said ya couldn’t! Ya have t’ wait until his fever breaks!”

“That could take days! Donnie’s never been able to withstand an illness that long!”

“What are you talking about?” Raph’s brows furrowed together, bewildered beyond reason. “Donnie’s never had a fever longer than three days! He’s—“

It clicked for him in an instant. Raph blinked, face pinched in an expression Leo hadn’t seen before. “… this ain’t about this Donnie, is it?”

“You do NOT get to ask me that.”

“Is that why you’ve been acting skittish all afternoon? Leo, man, he ain’t like yer twin. They’re two totally different people. They’re built differently from one another. For all we know his immune system is already working t’ get his infection out. Donnie’s gonna be fine.”

“I don’t care! You see this?! This is my not caring face!”

“There ain’t no one reason for you t’ be shouting at me! Donnie’s trying t’ sleep! What is WITH you lately?! Why do ya act like I’m your enemy?! What’s your ISSUE?!”

“YOU ARE!” Leo exclaimed. “YOU! You’ve been on my case for absolutely ZERO reason! Always nagging me, scolding me, telling me what to do, being a jerk! You act like you’re better than me but you’re just as clueless as the rest of us! You push me around like I’m a sock monkey and laugh at me for messing up, even if I’m trying to do what everyone expects of me! Mom already favors you cuz you’re the biggest suck up ever! I can’t STAND you sometimes! Why can’t you just leave me alone and do something with yourself instead of pretending you’re my big brother cuz you AREN’T!”

The way the silence fell was damning. Like a door being slammed in his face.

Leo immediately regretted his actions. He hadn’t meant to say something so cruel— but the words had escaped before he’d had time to stop himself. And he didn’t need to know he was in serious trouble when he saw Raph’s face morph from being stricken to curdling resentment. There had never been so much hurt behind razor sharp eyes before.

“… wow.” Raph spoke in a soft hiss, betrayed and incensed. “So that’s how ya really feel?”

Leo opened his mouth to apologize, thousands of words flooded throughout his mind, wracking him for anything suitable, but for some reason nothing came out. His tongue felt like a dumbbell in a parched mouth that forgot how to function. Words were locked in the depths of his unresponsive throat. His heart rate quickened the longer the pause lasted between them, unsure if Raph was going to pummel him or start screaming in his face. Either way, Leo knew he was in for it.

“Fine.” Raph’s voice was barely a whisper, bringing the tension to a standstill, his voice dripping with venom. “Fine. Ya wanna act like a self-centered brat? Do what ya want. If we’re putting all our secrets out in the open, then I’ll bite. But just remember; Yer th’ lowest of th’ low for putting yer own selfishness before th’ well-being of this family. Ya wanna know what yer worst flaw is? It ain’t yer ego. It’s th’ fact that no matter how hard we try t’ get through t’ you it ain’t about you, it goes right over yer head. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but ya better get that shitty attitude under control before ya get someone hurt.” And with a scowling glare the eldest stormed out of the room.

Leaving a shaken Leonardo to stand there and absorb his words, cemented in place.

********************

“How’s this?” Danny adjusted the collar of his button down lavender shirt, turning around to face Katie who sat on the edge of the bed. “Inconspicuous enough?”

“Very,” she nodded, sizing him up and down with her eyes. “Although if you loosen those buttons on your shirt by a few inches down, you’ll look sexier.”

Dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and his favorite brown loafers, the yōkai had just finished fastening the buttons to his sleeve cuffs when he gave her The Look. “Oh? What, like,” Danny reached a set of fingers up to flick his collar open to expose his torso, taunting her from where he stood. “That?”

Katie purred, leaning back into the bed, her arms supporting her upper body. “Me-YOW.”

“That’s all th’ show yer gettin’ until tonight,” he smirked, rebut toning his shirt closed with a wink. “Only if yer ready t’ handle all this.”

Katie threw a pillow at him, cracking a sly grin at him. “Ass!”

“Temper, temper!”

“Oh, you wound me sir.” Katie chuckled, rolling her eyes. “You’re lucky you’re so appealing to look at.”

Danny popped his collar down, adjusting his hair to comb it back with his fingers. “Ya know ya landed th’ lottery when ya found me. Although I can’t complain ‘bout th’ view in front of me either.”

Katie clicked her tongue. “Don’t try to butter me up, mister. I’m not an easy catch.”

“Ya sure as hell didn’t make it easy, I’ll give ya that,” Danny finally stepped away from the mirror, turning to meet her face. “But th’ chase was fun.” His tail made it’s way around her waist, acting as another appendage to hold her. The woman chuckled, sitting straight as the man casually approached with his swaggering smile. “And I’m always interested in playing th’ long game.”

“It wasn’t all that hard,” Katie hummed, raising her hand to touch his jawline with the tips of her fingers. “I had a mighty fine man to reel in at the end of that chase. And good lord was it worth it.”

Danny’s eyes turned mischievous; leaning forward mere inches from her face, he folded his hands behind him and offered the woman a playful smirk. “Oh yeah? Glad I’m such a prize.”

Her fingers pushed some of his hair out of his brow to better match his gaze. “Baby, you’re a jackpot. If someone gave me the option of choosing a million bucks or you, I’d choose you.”

“Awww, no cash? Ya coulda had it made.”

“I already do. In the past three years I’ve had the adventure of a lifetime. I’ve adopted six amazing kids. I found the love of my life. Even if I gotta put up with bigots and the occasional bounty hunter, I’d never trade any of you for my old life.“ She closed the gap to kiss him, chaste and sweet and everything he’d ever wanted. He fought the temptation to lock her in a passionate embrace, to clutch her face to his and take her in with all his strength, but he resisted. A patient man would find respite if he waited.

For now he settled for this. And it was still wonderful.

He lingered in the kiss for a moment more, pulling back once she’d withdrawn. His tail unwound itself from her waist as both his hands fell to rest on the woman’s shoulders— one cool to the touch, the other flesh and bone— to squeeze them. “I wouldn’t change a thing either.” The yōkai stepped away to start gathering his things for his trip as a thought came to mind. “I don’t think I ever asked ya, but how do you do it?”

“How do you mean?”

“All o’ this,” Danny waved a hand to gesture to the air. “Keeping a roof over yer head, juggling six kids’ t’ make sure they get equal attention, staying afloat and still managing t’ go forward? Honestly I’m a little jealous. Not even I coulda had th’ stamina t’ balance Len and Mick at my best, let alone SIX of them.”

Katie, for once, appeared surprised. Emerald eyes flickered somewhere around the room to think, properly gather her thoughts, as she straightened her slouched posture to sit. “I mean… instinct I guess. My sister and I raised her little girl together after her husband died for fifteen years, and things were great. I couldn’t HAVE kids cuz my body sucks. When I got roped into all of this and I found Mondo, some part of me kinda knew I had to step up not for my sake, but his. One thing turned into another and suddenly I became a surrogate parent to four overnight. Then Casey found me, Fugitoid blew up, Zog died, Mikey popped in and… Grace was taken.”

Her voice changed. The more the memories seemed to plague her consciousness the more somber her tone became. “Perspective really hit me when I was at Leo’s deathbed; his shell was split open like a chestnut when we found him in whatever the hell that prison dimension was, it was like I was carrying a carcass.” Katie’s face twisted with grief. Her hands folded together on her knees, metal fingers creaking anxiously. “I didn’t choose to be a mom, but destiny really kicked my ass when I got these kids. It showed me how I could be more than what I was, more than what I used to be. I’m not just some cop who doesn’t have all the pieces to her case to solve, I’m just… Mom.”

“… so… how’d ya make up yer mind about staying?”

“When those boys needed a parent to guide them through all this bullshit. Bishop almost killed me and they would’ve been left alone to deal with him. I couldn’t do that to them.” Katie shook her head to clear the muddied thoughts. “All it takes is one second, Daniel. That’s all it is. One second to decide between life or death.”

“… damn.” Danny couldn’t help but utter. “That’s kinda poetic, in a way.”

Katie, masking her inner trauma, merely smiled cheekily at the yōkai. “Awww! You think I can be the next Edgar Allen Poe?”

“Jesus, no! Ya ain’t a secret sadist are ya?”

“Daniel, there’s a ton you—“

“MA!” Her bedroom door was swung wide open, striking the opposite wall as the unexpected entrance startled the adults out of their skins. They were met with Raph standing out of breath, expression frantic, his eyes blown wide with concern. “Ma…! I messed up big time!”

“Red, what the hell—“

“It’s LEO! He’s—! He’s gone!”

Katie shot off the bed like a lightening bolt, face turning serious. “What do you mean he’s gone?!”

“I—! I said some really stupid shit t’ him, I was so pissed at him and I dunno what came over me! He, he must’ve taken what I said t’ heart and run off! There’s a portal in his room!”

Danny could sense terrible dread beginning to engulf the human. Katie’s shoulders went rock solid, her hands grabbing her hair as she panicked. He could see Raph desperately begging forgiveness, trying as he could to remedy the damage done. In all honesty the human looked ready to collapse and suffer a breakdown.

Danny knew she’d been through enough.

Danny understood she wasn’t in the right state of mind to go.

He knew, above all else, those kids were her number one priority.

So…

Snatching his black coat off the dresser and grabbing his phone with his tail, Danny rushed past the others. “I’ll get him!”

“What?! Daniel wait, you can’t—!”

“I’ll get him!” Danny called back once he reached the hall, darting to the direction of Leo’s bedroom. The door had been left ajar, a steady trickle of bright blue light shining through the gap as it spilled across the adjacent wall.

Bingo. He moved into the messy threshold just in time to see the blue vortex start to shrink. No time to back out now! Without delay, the yōkai threw himself into the unknown, barely managing to hear Katie’s distressed cry in the background as magic swallowed him whole.

Portal magic was a tricky business, one he wasn’t truly familiar with. Truth be told the concept made his head spin. It happened in the blink of an eye. One moment he was running into the open mouth of a mysterious mystic element, the next he popped up within the dirty, grimy alley of Manhattan, righting his footing as if he’d just gotten off a roller coaster, whiplash making his world tilt.

Where could the turtle have gone in such a rush? This alley was mostly dormant beyond the dumpsters and trash bags that littered the area. There was no signs of anyone else roaming the narrow passage, all the foot traffic was coming from the busy streets behind him. Danny swallowed his nausea down, shaking the feeling off before he pulled his coat on, going to reach his hand into the left pocket to retrieve his Cloaking Broach when—

… it wasn’t there.

Fuck. Danny turned his pockets inside out, searching for the artifact with a renewed fervor. Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck are ya kidding me?! The more he checked his coat, the more the realization hit that he’d left it behind.

… he’d left it on the dresser.

“FUUUUCKIN—“ Danny threw his hands up and dragged them down his face, kicking a stray can in his frustration. “Rookie move, Dan! Ya go t’ prove ya can provide for yer woman, and ya can’t even remember t’ bring th’ one damn thing ya need t’ get past security! On top’a losing her kid!”

“Losing who’s what now?” Piped a voice from above.

“JESUS!” Danny whirled around, claws extended in warning, looking for the source of the voice as he craned his neck up to find a fire escape ladder drawn up… and a red eared slider sitting overhead on the landing.

Leo stood out in the dim lighting of the alleyway, crouched on the metal flooring to gaze down upon the yōkai from his platform six feet up. He wore a bright blue sweatshirt that was three sizes too big, grey sweatpants, and blue converse sneakers. His hood was drawn up to hide his mutated face but it was a dead giveaway once his bright yellow eyes shined through. He was sans his katana, which was unusual because he usually toted one or both of them to travel, but he retained his bright blue mask as he always did.

Leo gave the man a salute, half-hearted. “‘Sup, Rat Man.”

Unimpressed Danny responded flatly. “Rat Man. Really. Like I ain’t used t’ that one.”

“What ARE you used to then? Captain Rodent? Mister Fur Face? Whisker Dude?”

“Neither of those are clever puns.” Danny put his hands on his hips, brows furrowed in displeasure. “Can ya get down from there so we can go home?”

Leo frowned, almost a scowl, before turning away stubbornly. “Why?”

Danny balked. “Come again?”

“Why should I? It’s not like anyone will really care that I left.” The bitterness that coated his words made Danny feel uneasy. “Raph made it very clear— I’m not wanted at home.”

The yōkai didn’t know what to make of this. “What are ya talking about?”

“‘I’m the lowest of the low’, ‘I’m a self centered brat.’ You don’t need me. That’s what he said. It’s better if I left— cut off the weakest link to the team if you’re gonna have a chance at being functional.” Leo drew his knees to his chest, avoiding all eye contact with the man. “You guys are better off without me.”

Danny stood bewildered. “He couldn’t have.”

Leo shrank into himself, head buried in his arms. The way he looked made it seem like his hoodie was engulfing him.

The sounds of city life continued on without them, cars, buses, bikes and taxis whizzed by as the rush hour traffic picked up. More pedestrians started perusing the sidewalks in the corner of his eye. If they continued waiting around in this dark alley the stores would soon be crowded. Crowded areas meant grabbing medicine was next to impossible.

Danny hummed, contemplative as he raised his head to look at the mutant kid scurried in the dark. “Well I ain’t leaving. Either ya come down, or I’m climbing up.”

Leo’s yellow orbs peeked over his arms, watching the yōkai from below. He didn’t budge.

“Okay.” Danny rolled his shoulders, taking one step back as he moved; moving through tight and narrow spaces was like second nature to him, body angling and twisting around the gap between the decrepit ladder and a line of dumpsters that acted as his footing, his hands latched onto the flimsy metal. He hauled himself up with ease, climbing the rest of the way to reach the platform.

When Danny found the top he looked around the ledge to find the turtle still curled into a ball, eyes pinned onto him with mild awe. “What’s with th’ look?”

“I’ve never seen you move like that!”

“I practically grew up on th’ streets of Queens. Ya can take th’ punk outta th’ slums, but ya can’t take th’ street life outta th’ man.” Danny huffed as he pulled himself onto the platform proper, coming to sit beside Leo. The turtle didn’t move from his spot, but he sighed under his breath all the same. “Welp, we’re sitting here. Watching th’ trash in th’ alley. Didn’t know we were on garbage patrol.” He tried to joke, but Leo’s face turned melancholy. “Hey, kid. Why’d ya really take off?”

Leo shrugged lamely. “You guys don’t want me around, so I left.”

“Now who said that?” Danny quarried.

“Raph basically said—“

“Did he say those exact words to you? Verbatim? Did he say, ‘Leo, we’re better off without ya?’”

Leo went dead silent. His fingers gripped the sleeves of his hoodie.

“What’s got ya feeling this way? Anything you wanna talk about?”

“… not really.”

Danny pondered for a moment longer, drumming his claws on the metal flooring underneath him to think. “I dunno what’s wrong but I know I ain’t leaving ya by yerself. So I’ll stay here until yer ready t’ talk, okay?”

Leo was silent, unwilling to reply, but Danny didn’t hold it against him. Whatever had been said to the kid must’ve really gotten to him. He was willing to give the turtle time to think, but he had to keep an eye on the crowd; too many eyes on them wouldn’t be ideal if he had to go find a pharmacy. Who knows what Kathrine must be doing right now? She’s bound to be going hysteric.

Thankful he at least remembered to bring his cellphone, Danny fished it out of his jacket. Unlocking it he began to send a text;

Found Leo.

Seconds later a new message rang.

Kat:

THANK U GOD.

Is he ok??

Yeah he’s fine. Just upset. Gonna be a little bit.

Kat:

Ok

As long as he’s safe

Dan ur a lifesaver

Let me know when ur on ur way home please

You know I will.

Danny put his phone back in his jacket, glad to have at least given her some peace of mind in the middle of this confusion. Now how do I get him to come back home?

“I didn’t mean to be a jerk.” Leo suddenly mumbled.

“T’ who, Raph?”

Leo nodded solemnly. “Sometimes I jump the gun and say things without thinking about how it’ll hurt someone. And… I really didn’t mean it. But now he thinks I hate him.” His voice crackled guiltily. “Maybe you guys really would be better off without me. I’m just a screw up.”

“I don’t think any of that’s true.” Danny leaned forward, arms coming to rest on his knees as he regarded the mutant with empathetic eyes. “Nobody in that lair believes yer a screw up.”

“Yeah right.” Leo scowled deeper, three digits digging into the course material of his sleeves.

“It’s th’ truth. Why are ya so sure it ain’t?”

“Cuz…” the slider’s fingers clung to the sleeves of his hoodie, death-like and iron clad, avoiding all eye contact. “You guys don’t need a kid who’s gonna drag you down to rock bottom.”

“What do ya mean?”

Moments passed without conversation. Those moments turned into minutes. Leo closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath, steeling his nerves as he exhaled with an audible sigh. “… can you keep a secret?”

Danny folded his hands on his lap, slouching forward against the rails in front of them to get comfortable. “‘Course, as long as ya aren’t planning on hurting yourself, then I’m calling Kat.”

Leo bristled, but he decided to test the waters. “Have you ever felt like your family would be better off without you? Like… if you weren’t around to mess things up or do stupid things or say things that hurt your brothers, life would be better if you weren’t around?”

Danny thought about the words for a few seconds, giving it some thought. If he lied to the kid he’d only push him away further. Perhaps being truthful would ease Leo’s burden. “When I was yer age? Yeah.”

“But have you ever wanted to disappear? Like if you were to,” Leo snapped his fingers. “Poof! Just vanish into thin air, everyone would be happier?”

Danny frowned. Fingers itched for a cigarette, ruefully remembering they were also back at home, but he stamped the urge to smoke down. “On my worst days as a delivery boy for Lena, yeah. Sometimes I look back at my younger self and I think… ‘Damn, you were such an idiot for going t’ her in th’ first place.’ But ya know what changed?”

Leo flicked his gaze onto him, waiting, still unmoving.

“I found out that there’s more t’ life than bein’ a petty thief. I got out. Yer Mom gave me th’ strength t’ stand up for myself and wipe th’ slate clean. No more crime, no more constantly looking over my shoulder, no more living in a shithole apartment, and no more regrets. My life’s been better for it.”

“What’s this gotta do with me?”

“Ya shouldn’t wanna disappear. Yer Mom would miss th’ hell outta you, and yer brothers would be worried. I know I ain’t been around long, but I can tell just by how yer Mom acts she cares about you. Ya should never have any doubt in yer head about that.”

“What about Raph?”

“I’m sure he’s gonna be scolded for talkin’ about ya like he did. And he’s probably beating himself up over it by now.”

Leo’s shoulders sank, visibly deflating. He wrung his hands out to stave off the anxiety, low rumbling chirp coming from his throat with guilt. “… I’m sorry I ran off.”

“No need t’ apologize. I get th’ feeling of needing air, but I think Kat woulda appreciated a heads up that you were gonna go topside,” Danny offered a supportive grin. “How about I take ya t’ go grab some food b’fore we get Donnie’s meds?”

Switching on a dime his demeanor changed. Leo perked up, bright eyed and excited. “Wait really?! Sweet! Let’s get a move on!” He was moving instantly, leaping to his feet and darting down the ladder. When Danny didn’t stand right away, the turtle popped his head over the ledge and he said, “Get a move on, Old Timer!”

“I ain’t old!” Danny laughed, following the turtle down the fire escape. “Not even by a long shot!”

Leo landed below with a flourish, scoffing. “Yeah, yeah, and I’m the Queen of England! Come on, we’re burning daylight!”

Danny finally climbed the rest of the way down. “I hear ya, I’m right behind ya. Pick which spot ya wanna go and I’ll see what I can—“

Click.

His ear pricked up.

Danny narrowed his gaze, averting his eyes over his shoulder to locate the source of the noise. Leo, noticing his suspicion, became alert. His stance turned defensive.

Danny turned around, unprepared to find a human man pointing a Glock at his chest, blocking their way out through the alley. His eyes were beady and dark, short blonde hair combed over, his skin peachy, adorning a dark green zoot suit like he was about to go onto a forties gangster movie set. But it wasn’t his god awful fashion sense that made Danny start to tense up.

It was the Purple Dragon tattoo stamped on the back of his right hand, the one currently aiming the gun.

“Don’t move, freaks,” Green hissed.

This guy has guts, Danny thought. And he sounds like he’s imitating Steve Buchemi. Deciding to play the confident card, the yōkai smirked. “Aww, what? Ya ain’t seen a rat in New York before? Hate t’ tell ya this pal, but,” he brandished his hand, showing a set of long, recently filed claws ready to strike. “We’re everywhere!”

Green’s face morphed into disgust, fingers gripping his gun tight to the point of revealing the white of his knuckles beneath his skin. “Just my luck, running into youse things on my day off. Ya really are cropping up outta the woodworks!”

“Um, not to be THAT guy, but what’s with your accent?“ Leo peered around Danny comedically, the ridges of his brows quirked in curiosity. “Are you pretending to be British? If so, it REALLY needs work.”

“Wha— No! I’m from Jersey!”

“Oooooo boy, that’s rough buddy, sorry I asked.”

“Anyway,” Danny took a daring step forward, claws poised at the ready as he pointed them at Green. “Ya think you can take us? Yer alone here. So I suggest ya tuck yer tail between yer legs and piss off before I do something I don’t wanna do.”

Green’s eyes darted somewhere past the rodent and turtle, brief but very much obvious, and his shit eating grin took a more devious turn. “Oh… am I?”

In the mouth of the alley where their only means of escape left was cut off by the introduction of an unmarked blue Mercedes’ pulling up on the street to box them in. Coming out of the car were four more bigger, brutish men dressed in casual punk clothes… all of which boldly showing the Purple Dragons mark.

“Ya thought I’d just corner youse two alone? I know ya travel in packs,” Green snootily backed off, Glock still aimed at Danny. “I called my pals t’ give them the heads up that you lowlives were infiltrating our turf!”

“And we don’t LIKE mutants,” one guy with a tacky haircut snarled, tapping a short metal pipe on his shoulder for emphasis.

The air turned thick. Tension rose between the bigots and the outcasts. Leo glanced up and down at the human men, mentally debating whether or not he should start fighting his way out.

Th’ guy ain’t as dumb as I thought, Danny felt cold sweat cling to the back of his neck. He retracted his claws away from Green in favor of turning his heel and addressing the burly crowd of thugs with one of his famous pleasing smiles. “Gentleman, please, let’s settle down! This ain’t all that serious! Why don’t we just go out separate ways and pretend we didn’t have this conversation?”

“Or,” Green spoke snidely. “We all take a little trip.”

“Trip?” Leo chuckled— Danny noticed there was a slight clip to his tone that suggested something else. “Dude unless we’re all going to Hawaii I’m not going anywhere with you creeps.”

“Unfortunately for you,” another man stepped closer, his anger potent. “You don’t get to have a choice.”

Danny’s eyes shifted around the alley for a moment, calculating, trying to figure out what to do. Alright tough guy, ya barked up th’ wrong tree, do something FAST.

“Yeeeeah, nope, no thanks. I’m not really interested. Let’s take a rain check on the whole kidnapping thing, huh?“ Leo clapped his hands in front of him, trying to play this off like a big joke. “Been there, done that!”

Green tsked. “Annoying little prick,” he approached the teen, lowering his gun to reach out and grab Leo’s arm—

“Fuck off, dipshit,” Danny moved so fast barely anyone noticed his precise movements; he bashed an elbow into Green’s abdomen, sweeping his legs out from under him with his tail. The moment Green went down Danny seized a beat-up wooden rod from near one of the trash cans and swung with all his might, smashing it into another thug’s nose with tremendous force.

Following his example Leo leapt into the air, moving like water over stone. He jumped over the stunned body of Green to grab the fire escape ladder, swinging his body a full three-hundred and sixty degrees around to deliver a brutal blow into the back of Green, driving both feet straight into him and throwing the goon in a pile of garbage.

The guy with the pipe ran towards Danny with his weapon raised, but Danny was clever. He seized a tethered baseball cap lying to the wayside, flipping it around to expose the inside to catch the pipe like an umpire, using the momentum of the man’s flimsy footing up drag him down. Once he was on the floor, Danny’s tail wrapped around his throat and bashed his face into solid concrete.

Leo bounced on top of the dumpster, kicking and punching the meathead trying to nab him with all the finesse of an acrobat in the boxing ring. “What’s wrong? Turtle got your tongue?” He sang in his bold bravado. “Looks like you’re not as good as me—“

Just as they thought they had gained the upper hand, the tables turned against them.

CRACK! A brick was chucked at Leo’s face from the corner of Danny’s eye.

The teen yelled in a mix of pain and confusion, falling onto his shell as he went to grab at his temple to check for bleeding, but his assailant took this chance to grab the teen. Leo began to kick and struggle as the man held him in a death grip against his chest to pin the turtle down. “Hey! Get off!”

“Leo!” Danny went to try and assist the turtle, but he never saw Green sneaking up from behind with the fallen metal pipe to strike him on the back of the noggin.

THWACK!

One moment Danny saw block spots swimming across his vision, disoriented. The next he was being pinned against the wall, arms pulled behind him and a hand gripping the back of his head.

Fuck…

“Stupid mutants. They never realize that humans also travel in packs,” Green huffed, tossing the pipe aside to rise. “My boss is gonna give me one helluva raise for this catch.”

“Like hell he is,” Danny spat through gritted teeth, trying to pry his arms free. “You’re lucky I ain’t able t’ rip yer eyes outta yer sockets!”

Green approached; weasely hands frisking the yōkai’s jacket pockets until he located his wallet and cellphone. Danny rolled his eyes at the absurdity of it. Ain’t this a trip down memory lane.

“Well, well, let’s see what we got here.” Green flipped open his wallet and took a look at his human ID. “So… Danny, innit? Whatcha doing out here? Don’t you got some cheddar to gnaw on at home?”

“Sure I do. But I was craving some Gouda, personally,” Danny retorted sardonically.

“So youse got some jokes, don’t you?” Green tossed Danny’s wallet over his shoulder as though it were another piece of litter strewn about the alleyway. “I got news for you, rat man.” He dropped Danny’s cell to the ground, the devise clattering. Without a shred of thought he smashed it under his foot, glass crackling and crunching beneath the leather heel. Taking away the last true means of summoning any help. “You ain’t going nowhere.”

“Bastard!” Danny shouted, fighting to wrench his arms free. “Yer gonna pay for that!”

Green barked out a laugh. “Oh, sure I will!” He smashed he phone down harder to rub salt into the wound. “I’d love to see you try to call for more of your Frankenstein friends without a phone!”

Leo kicked and flailed his legs in defiance, writhing like his life depended on it to escape the clutches of the bigots. “Now what’s next? Stuff us into a trunk? Cuz like that’s not gonna get picked up on surveillance cameras!”

“No. We ain’t savages.” Green put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “We can do this the calm and obedient way!” He nodded to one of his cronies, who went to the car that still sat on the side of the street, opening the left backseat door.

“Unless you guys really wanna sit in a trunk the whole time until we get to our boss… I suggest you get in. Quietly.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AND THAT’S PART ONE!

Thank you all so much for reading and for your kind words!! You’re all so cool!! I cannot wait to share the rest of this one, I hope this first chapter was worth all this wait!!

I truly could not have done this without your support and encouragement. So stay tuned for more!! I can’t wait to share more angst with you 🤣

@queen-with-the-quill @tending-the-hearth @figuringitoutasigoalong @goldenflowerdragon @yorshie @lameboobah

[lookismaddict]

Lookism: Rendezvous 🔞 (Ch. IV) || Gun Park x Fem! Reader ♡

Author’s Note: Hello, thank you for being patient! I’m glad that there are people who read the chapters to my Rendezvous series. If you noticed that in the previous chapter the first part of the chapter got deleted, this was because I realized that it didn’t align to the story at all. It was better to remove that part to prevent confusion in the story. I hope you all don’t mind me doing that. This chapter will be a special one since it’s longer than the other chapters and there will be lots of light-hearted fluff with some playful spice. Also, I included some IRL stuff, like actual locations in Seoul, but my descriptions for each place may not be accurate because I’ve never been there, so I apologize in advance. Consider this 2-in-1 chapter as a gift from me to you for reading this far. I hope you’ll enjoy it! ;)

NSFW Warning: Violence, strong language/cursing, vulgar language, and sexual content (teasing, suggestive content, groping, penetration, degrading, etc.).

Story Summary: You traveled abroad to help support your mother who is sick, back home in Japan. However, once you reached Korea, everything went downhill until you met a stranger who offered you a deal that could benefit you. But who knew that this special encounter would turn your whole life around…

Almost two weeks had gone by so quickly, that you’ve gotten so tired from the continuous training that Gun put you through. He wasn’t kidding when he said that training would get even more intense each day.

All this time, he’s been training you mainly in Kyokushin Karate. You adopted the basics really well in the first week and everyday, he made you endure harsh training.

For instance, there was a day when Gun had assigned you to run twenty laps around in the backyard to improve your stamina. Afterwards, he made you practice one hundred punches and one hundred kicks all on the last day of the first week. Did you eat lunch that day? Well, you better believe that you didn’t! Gun had made you suffer to turn your heart and soul into fighting.

Most of the time, however, he had gotten even more harsher towards you and he became more and more absent each day. He would just assign you to practice certain techniques and then leave you to do the rest, as if he was avoiding you. You realized that this started on the third day of training…

Out of nowhere, you woke up from loud banging on your door. You jolted up from your bed right away, wondering who was making such a racket early in the morning.

“(Y/N) wake up! What the hell are you sleeping in late for?! You have five minutes just to get ready, then meet me downstairs!!!”

You heard Gun’s voice boom in anger from behind the door. You’ve never heard his voice so angry like that, that it made you nervous as hell.

Shit! What time is it?!

You checked your phone and it was a bit past six forty-five in the morning.

Crap, I’m late! Why didn’t I turn my alarm on before I went to bed? I always did that! How could I have forgotten?!

You hurried to the bathroom to get yourself ready and while you got out of the bathroom to get dressed, you remembered that last night you were watching Korean drama on the couch. You could’ve sworn that you did that, yet you wondered how did you even get back to your bed?

What even happened last night after I dozed off? Ugh whatever, this isn’t the time to worry about that right now!

After you got dressed, you ran out of your room then sped down the stairs like your feet were made of lightning. When you got downstairs, there was a protein bar left on the table where you met Gun. This time, he was dressed in one of his many proper suit and tie outfits. He was just sitting there while crossing his arms, waiting in silence. When he locked eyes with you through those wide-rimmed sunglasses of his, he gave you the most deadliest glare that you’ve ever seen in your life.

You apologetically bowed at him multiple times while saying “I’m sorry!” while pleading for forgiveness. However this time, he didn’t let it slide.

“I told you last time not to be late, and for what? Did that not stick into your head at all?! Did you not understand our deal, (Y/N)?! You’re supposed to take this seriously and yet you arrived late like I’m your fucking dog who’s willing to wait for you! How the hell did you manage to […]”

While munching on your protein bar, you got the gist of his morning earful of a lecture. The scolding of a man who was once calm and collected converted into a monster, suddenly disappeared as your ears tuned out the harsh words while it goes into one ear then comes right out of the other.

Ten minutes had passed and he didn’t hesitate to make your life a living hell. Instead of continuing his lectures on how to punch and kick properly, he decided that you should be the one to demonstrate to him what you’ve remembered so far as if you’re the student who will recite back a poem to their teacher. But this time, you had to mimic and show Gun how it’s properly done. For this occasion, he got out a foldable chair and placed it underneath the tree where he had the Makiwara at.

His rules were simple. He’ll tell you to do an action or a technique on the spot and then you’ll have to do it properly in front of him. If you don’t do it right, then he’ll tell you to repeat the move again until he says it’s right.

That’s simple enough. I already done them countless of times, so I should be fine.

For the first move, he told you to do a kick aiming towards the head of your opponent. You did so, by mimicking what Gun did from your previous training sessions. The look on your face says it all, as you smiled proudly at what you just did. Your mood at that moment was starting to get better until you heard the words, “Do it again.” by Gun.

Okay then, one more time.

You repeated the move again then turned to Gun for approval. “Again.”

You repeated it five times, which turned into ten. Then twenty. Then fifty. Then eighty. Then one hundred and thirty.

Your legs was already tired from doing the move repeatedly. You had it with the last, “Again.” that left his mouth as you stormed towards him in anger.

“I’ve been doing this at least a hundred times already, even though I’ve been doing it right all this time.”

Gun raised an eyebrow. “Says who?”

You gritted your teeth while clenching your fists. “Since you think that I’ve been doing it wrong all this time, are you really just going to sit there and behave like an asshat without giving me any tips or clues on HOW to improve myself?”

“Hm…” Gun folded his arms while looking up at the clear sunny sky. “Yes. It’s your fault that you’ve been doing it wrong all this time. I bet you didn’t even pay attention that well.”

This sadistic bastard…

During that time, you swore on your life that you were about to punch that man in the face.

“Gun…”

“Mr. Park.”

“What?”

“It’s Mr. Park.”

This man is just begging for it.

“MR. PARK. Did I do anything wrong to upset you?”

“No, not really.”

“Then… why the petty treatment?”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘petty’ if you couldn’t even handle the training in the first place.”

“Oh, is that so?”

You inched closer to Gun then stopped right in front of his seat. All of a sudden, you grabbed onto his tie and pulled him towards you, forcing him to look up at you from his seat. You leaned in closer to him and whispered in his ear.

“You really just woke up today and chose violence huh, Mr. Park? If it’s a fight you want, then it’s a fight you’ll get…”

Well that took an unexpected turn. Gun was so shocked that he didn’t know what to do at that point. If you hadn’t looked even further down, you would have seen how turned on he was at that moment. He was definitely going to have some UNUSUAL dreams that week. However, he smacked your hand away from him then stood up immediately while straightening his tie.

You looked at him confused as he walked past towards you then said, “Go ahead and do fifty punches, fifty kicks, and fifty sit-ups for today. I have other business to take care of. Right after you’re done here, remember to heat up some food again from the fridge.”

Gun was about to leave until you decided to confront him about what happened last night.

“Wait.”

He stopped in his tracks as you turned to look at his back.

“Did you bring me up to my room last night while I was sleeping on the couch?”

He turned his head around to meet your eyes with a cold dead stare.

“What are you talking about? You must’ve been dreaming too deeply if you’ve decided to confuse your dreams with actual reality.”

At that, Gun left you without even saying a word. For the rest of the day, you haven’t seen him at all since you locked yourself in your room. Until the following day, he started assigning you things to do and left without providing any proper reasons to why he had to go. After that day, that became your actual routine.

When the second week came around, you barely got to see him in the mornings and afternoons now. There was this never-ending tension between the two of you that it made you anxious to the core to even look at him every day for only about ten minutes.

One night, you were heading upstairs to your room right after finishing a k-drama. It was five minutes before midnight and when you were about to open the door to your room, you heard the front door from downstairs open. From the second-floor balcony, you were curious to see Gun again so you took a quick peek.

When he returned home, he was dressed up in one of his fancy gray suits. But this time, his suit was mostly covered in blood. Not like when he just finished beating up people which was not much, but this time, he’s ACTUALLY injured.

Your eyes widened in fear, worried that he might have seriously damaged a part of his body. Without hesitation, you dashed down the stairs towards him.

“Oh my god, what happened?! Are you okay???”

He looked at your worried eyes then immediately tried to dismiss you saying, “This is nothing. Just go to sleep already.”

“No, I won’t! You’re bleeding!!!”

Your eyes scanned his body, seeing that there was blood seeping out from his chest area, and blood coming out from one of his arms.

“Do you have a first aid kit anywhere? I’ll help you treat your wounds.”

It looked like you were determined to stay by his side until you treated him, so how could he say no? Gun knew that you’d keep insisting regardless if he refuses your assistance. Because of this, he decided to just accept it and just get it over with.

“It’s behind the bar.”

You hurried behind the counter of the bar and found the first aid kit. While he watched you get it, he sat on the couch. Quickly, you grabbed onto it, then scurried back to him as you sat next to him on the couch. You helped him remove his suit first. As your hands were about to unbutton his white long sleeved shirt underneath his suit, you completely hesitated while questioning yourself if this was a good idea in the first place. He saw the hesitation in your eyes as he said, “Hurry up. I’m bleeding over here.” to push you to get it over with.

“R-right…” you slowly unbuttoned his shirt for him from his collar all the way down to the bottom of his shirt then helped him removed it afterwards. You noticed how muscular and how in-shape his body was. His muscles were toned and you’ve never seen such good-looking features so close like this before, which made you so astonished.

Finally, you opened up the first aid kit then started by disinfecting his wounds. You got the alcohol from inside it, then dabbled a bit of it on a cotton ball while handling it with a tweezer.

“This is going to sting a bit, so don’t move too much.”

With a tweezer, you lightly patted it onto the wounds on his chest. You were impressed by how he didn’t even flinch at the stinging sensation of the alcohol meeting his wounds. You thought that he must’ve gotten used to it, since this was his life after all.

Gun sat there patiently while watching you treat his wounds properly. All this time, he’s been avoiding you so the both of you wouldn’t get too close to each other. That day when he carried you to your bed was the day that made him realize that he needed to cut his physical attachment to you. It’ll only just cause him to worry about the littlest things that shouldn’t even be important.

However, now that he’s back within your grasp again, his plan failed. It was unavoidable for him to be physically associated with you, especially if you live in his own house. This made him realize how he was the one being the fool here and he shouldn’t have been cold towards you ever since that day when he started to distance himself from you. He could sense that you didn’t have any bad intentions towards him, despite how coldly he’s been acting towards you. You were more kind-hearted in nature compared to him. A horrible man who lives in the world of violence and corruption. Even if he tried to maintain his businesses the legal way, they always ended up in ruin.

Sometimes, whenever he’d come from that exhausting world of bloodshed, he thought that it wasn’t so bad to have someone there to come home to who would greet him. Even if that someone was you. You had made his days more eventful by seeing you and by being with you. He missed the constant bickering between you two and the way you’d sometimes tease him for acting a certain way. Even when you had done something out of the ordinary from most women that he’d met. That all never fails to make him look forward to the next day and the next.

“And… that should be good.”

After bandaging his arm, your job was done. In addition, even the wounds on his chest were patched up nicely. You’ve handled his wounds pretty well, despite not having a degree in the medical field.

“Make sure not to move around too much or else your wounds will open up again. Don’t touch them either and just let them heal for a while. Well, I’ll be going to bed now. Goodni-“

When you got up from the couch and was about to return the first aid kit from where it belongs, Gun suddenly grabbed onto your wrist, not letting you go. You reacted by turning your head around quickly in confusion as you looked at him staring deep into your eyes.

“I’m sorry, for leaving you alone all this time. You must’ve been lonely without me being here and for that, I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widened as you abruptly looked away. You bit your bottom lip, trying to hide back the tears that started to form in your eyes. All this time, you blamed yourself for how distant the two of you grew apart from each other these past few days. You were wondering what you did wrong for him to act so coldly towards you, and if the real reason ran any deeper than that.

His grasp on your wrist slowly released, as you swiftly wiped your tears away feeling embarrassed that he might see you like this.

“It’s alright. I understand that you were just busy.”

After putting away the first aid kit, Gun stood up while carrying his clothes over his shoulder as he walked around half naked. At the same time, you both went up the stairs together then stopped right in front of your room.

“Well, this is my stop. Goodnight.”

He nodded at you once again. Before heading to his room, he said, “Thanks for today.”

You smiled at him then said, “Anytime.” before opening and closing the door behind you. You leaned against the door of your room and smiled to yourself, thinking about what just happened between you two.

“I hope his wounds heal quickly.”

Nearing the end of the second week, your training became more gruesome than before. Since Gun had already taught you the basics, he wanted you to be put to the test.

He decided to hold mock fights, which were fights that shouldn’t be taken lightly but not too much to kill someone. After all, he still needed to keep you alive. When these mock fights took place, Gun was excited to see how much you’ve really grown in progress.

All of your movements were almost perfected. Your punches, your kicks, and your blocks combined became sights to marvel at for him. Compared to the week before, your strength became terrifyingly stronger.

Now, your movements were more agile and you were much more cunning than a fox. From this, he found you even more attractive by the day. Your hits and attacks were more powerful as the impact from getting hit once will definitely land him on the ground this time.

During the mock fight, you came at him at every direction. From the front, from his sides, even from up in the air, you didn’t hesitate at all. Your stamina from your previous training sessions have improved, barely even stopping to catch your breath. Really, you were in the zone. Your eyes remained sharp and focused. Also, your breathing became more controlled than before.

While Gun was about to come for a jab, you dodged him swiftly as he barely missed you by a hair. Eventually while he reached out to you to grab onto your shirt by the collar to pin you down, you bent your knees almost as low to the ground then spun wildly in front of him, kicking him by the ankles and knocking him off of his feet. You saw that even from that low kick you just did, he was about to pull himself up with one hand but you grabbed onto his arm then pressed it onto his chest. At the same time, you pinned him down by sitting on top of him. You trapped him in between your legs, locking him with your knees. With one of your arms, you kept his arm pinned on his chest then striked with a punch to the ground, right next to his head as his eyes were staring right at yours from below you. The punch near his head had caused a major fracture on the ground due to the hard impact of your fist.

At that very moment, your body finally gave up its strength as you collapsed onto him. You were too tired to notice that you were pressed up against his body, as you laid there on top of him heaving heavily. As you were trying to recollect your tired self, you felt Gun’s free hand lay on top of your back.

“Well done, (Y/N). You’ve improved immensely.”

You looked up at him and smiled while sweating profusely. “Thanks!”

“Also, since it’s almost the end of the month, I’d like to give you a reward.”

Your head tilted a bit to the side, curiously. “A reward? For what?”

“For your hard work. You’ve kept up with the training and your skills have blossomed greatly. And for that, I’m taking you out to eat dinner for tonight.”

Your eyes widened in excitement. “What? Really?! Oh my god, I haven’t been out in a while! I almost felt like a hermit being stuck in here-”

“Don’t push it.”

“Sorry…”

It’s true though.

Just seeing that huge smile on your face made Gun feel some type of way. It was a strange feeling that he still couldn’t quite figure it out. It was like his chest was being squeezed from the inside. Was it because you were still pressing against him that he’s feeling this way? He couldn’t tell.

“(Y/N).”

“Hm?”

You sat up properly then looked down at him.

“When are you going to get off of me?”

Huh?

Finally, you realized that you were still sitting on top of him, with your hands on his chest.

“I’m so sorry!!!”

Panicked, you stood up as soon as possible as you took a few steps back from him. You placed both of your hands on your face, pressing your sweaty palms onto your burning cheeks.

Ugh, how embarrassing.

Gun saw your rushed reaction from the corner of his eye, then chuckled lightly to himself.

“What a strange woman.” he mumbled.

He cleared his throat after getting himself up and patting his clothes down from the grass.

“I almost forgot to mention. When you’re out with me, dress decently. I’ll come pick you up in a few hours. I still have some things to take care of outside. Make sure that you’re ready to leave by the time I get back.”

As he walked in front of you to head back inside, you nodded before walking side by side with him.

It was close to five in the evening and you were getting dressed until you heard the notification ding go off from your phone. You grabbed your phone from the bedside table and checked to see who it was from. It was a text message from Gun that said,

“Meet me in front of the house in 10 min.”

You replied with a thumbs-up emoji as you got your small brown satchel before leaving your room. The history behind that satchel was that you bought it from the weekly outdoor neighborhood market held at your old neighborhood back in Japan. You named it “Old Reliable”.

Hehe, my favorite bag.

When you got to the bottom of the stairs, you made sure that you had everything with you before you opened the door to leave.

Phone? Check. Wallet? Check. Alright, everything’s here. Time to head out!

You swung the door open then slowly closed it behind you. Right on time, Gun pulled up into the driveway right in front of you in his tinted Rolls Royce car. As he unlocked the right door next to the driver’s seat, he rolled down the window for him to speak to you. He was already dressed fancily, in his black evening Louis Vuitton gentleman’s suit that he rarely wears for special occasions. On his sleeves, you spotted gold cufflinks that matched his expensive suit.

“Get in, we’ve got-”

His voice trailed off into silence as he stared at your outfit.

“What are you wearing?”

“What? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

He was eyeing your “I <3 Tokyo” shirt and your Bermuda shorts that was paired with cheap sandals.

“I told you to wear something decent. Your outfit looks like you’re just going to buy a quick meal at a convenience store.”

“What? What do you mean?! You told me to wear something ‘decent’ so I’m wearing something decent. At least I don’t look like a bum!”

Gun’s poker face spoke louder than words.

“Just get in the damn car. Now we have to make a few stops before we eat.”

“Hmph.”

Irritated, you scrunched your eyebrows as you opened the door then got into the seat next to him. Afterwards you slammed the door behind you before turning away from him in your seat while crossing your arms. The dinner hasn’t even started yet and the two of you were already in a bad mood.

In about thirty minutes, Gun parked the car in an empty spot right in front of a classy looking building, with very unique architecture. It was a beautiful building that you’ve never seen before, as its design rivaled all of the other buildings surrounding it. The glass panes were designed so curved-like that it drew you to it in fascination.

While the both of you exited the car, you asked Gun, “Where are we?”

Gun simply replied by saying, “Cheongdam-dong.”

You looked around you, observing your surroundings until one building in particular caught your attention and it was the one that so happened to be standing right in front of you.

“Wow, pretty.” you breathed out loud as your eyes twinkled, until you realized that this place was no ordinary place.

Wait a minute… he must be joking.

Your mouth dropped to the floor when you read the huge words, “Louis Vuitton” that was framed on the building in front of you.

LOUIS VUITTON?! WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE? I THOUGHT WE WERE HAVING DINNER?

Gun then walked ahead of you then turned his head around as a smug smile was plastered on his face.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

You blinked at him a few times dumbstruck, as you hurried and followed right behind him.

A bunch of store employees bowed and greeted him right as he entered the store. You just watched at his interactions with one of the employees as you stood there behind him.

“Good evening, Mr. Park. Are you here to pick up any orders that you’ve made?”

“No, I’m here to buy new clothing for someone.”

“Oh? This is so rare Mr. Park! Who will you be buying clothes for today?”

Gun gestured towards me. “For her.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you harshly whispered to him from behind, “Hey, what the hell are you saying?! I don’t need anything, so you can just forget it!”

The employee peeked from over Gun’s shoulder, as she silently scanned you from head to toe. You stood there awkwardly as you stopped whispering to Gun abruptly. Afterwards, she turned back to Gun again as if you didn’t exist.

“Oh my, sir. You’re so generous! What type of clothes would you like to buy for her?”

For some reason, the employee’s tone when she said “generous” rubbed you the wrong way as you glared at her from behind Gun.

“Something elegant and proper that would pair her with what I’m currently wearing.”

“Alright sir, I’ll see what I can do. You may pick any piece from our updated catalogue.”

She grabbed a binder on top of a counter that displayed expensive jewelry then handed it to Gun.

He flipped through the pages and pointed at a few clothing, while showing her the ones that he chose as he stood side by side with the employee.

“Have her try, this one… this one… this one… this one… and this one right here.”

The employee smiled then bowed at Gun. “Will do, Mr. Park. Please take a seat over there while we fit her into the right clothing that you’ve chosen for her.”

He nodded at her, then turned around to face you. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“W-what…?”

“Oh and, give me your bag.”

“What?! What are you going to do with Old Reliable?!”

“Old… Old Reliable? Who names their bags? And besides, it’s not like I’m going to do anything bad to it. Just what the hell do you take me for?”

You were suspiciously eyeing him as you hesitantly handed it over to him.

Once he had your bag in his hands, he smirked at you before walking towards one of the empty seats in front of the fitting room. As he sat down, he dropped your bag nonchalantly onto a seat next to him then picked up a “Men’s Trending Styles” magazine and looked through it. However, when he let go of it, your bag skidded off of the nearby seat as it accidentally dropped onto the floor.

That son of a…

“Gun, wait!”

You were about to chase after him until the employee that he was talking with had grabbed onto your arm and guided you towards the opposite direction where the fitting room was.

“Right this way, ma’am.”

You had no choice but to comply and trust them with your new chosen wardrobe look.

. . .

Fifteen minutes have passed, as Gun glanced at his Rolex watch and saw that it was six past ten. He was wondering what it was taking you so long for you to get changed.

Gun placed the magazine he had back on the table where he found it from. He grabbed onto your bag then stood up. He was about to walk towards the fitting room until he saw the curtains to the fitting room draped open.

“Damn, what took you so long to…”

Right in front of him, was a you that looked like a completely different person. Gold glittery hoop earrings dangled from your ears that had the letters LV on each side. You were dressed in a two-piece black silk top and pencil skirt with a slit on the side, barely showing off your left leg. The delicate black silk top was a long-sleeved blouse which had intricate gold buttons centered all the way down the blouse and was tucked into the skirt. The skirt was sleek and had a gold embroidered LV print on the side, showing off your elegant figure. On your shoulder was a special edition black and white Louis Vuitton handbag, which had the LV pattern spread throughout its surface. And lastly, your shoes were tall black high heels which had LV gemstones centered at the front of each shoe.

As Gun looked at you up and down, he thought for a second that he was staring at a goddess. He couldn’t stop staring at how drop dead gorgeous you were in the clothes that he had chosen for you. At that very moment, he was left speechless. Throughout the store, all of the focus was on you that even the employees were marveling at how pretty you looked in your new outfit.

Gun cleared his throat before walking towards you. You shyly looked away from him as you looked down at the expensive clothes that you were currently wearing.

“H-how does it look…?”

In Gun’s mind, he was thinking of the words “breath-taking” and “stunning”, yet not even a single word could escape from his mouth.

You took the silence from him as a sign of disappoint, as you bashfully twirled your finger on the side zipper of your skirt.

“I knew it. These types of clothes doesn’t even suit me. I’m sorry that I wasted your time. I’ll just go and-”

As you turned on your heel to go back to the fitting room, he grabbed onto your arm, preventing you to leave from his sight.

“Don’t. It really does suit you.”

You slowly turned your head around to view his face, which looked like he just mustered enough courage just to say it in front of you. In your head, you couldn’t help but laugh and thought that he was adorable. You warmly smiled up at him, placing your hand on top of his hand, that was still gripping your arm. While doing so, you felt your heart started to beat rapidly as the both of you inched closer together while still locking eyes with one another. The room was moving in slow motion around you, until-

“Mr. Park, You have excellent taste! I already removed the tags already, since it looks like that you’ll be purchasing the items right away. Also, I put her original clothes in a separate bag just for you.”

The employee who helped you out held out her hand, holding a Louis Vuitton shopping bag with your old clothes in it.

What a way to kill the mood.

You immediately backed away from him, startled by the employee. While you were backing up, one of your heels tripped on a cable wire on the floor which was connected to a nearby light display of featured bags, which caused you to stumble backwards. You closed your eyes, expecting your back to come in contact with the floor, but you didn’t. When your eyes slowly fluttered open, you saw Gun’s face right in front of yours. Not to mention, the feeling of his strong arm wrapped around your waist while his other arm was supporting your back from falling, was enough for your face to turn bright red.

What in the k-drama shit is this?!

Your mind couldn’t process what was currently happening, as you were almost at the edge of disassociating. Meanwhile, the employees who saw what just happened were squealing in excitement at what they just witnessed in front of them. For instance, one employee said, “Oh my god, did you see that? She’s so lucky!” While another one said, “I wish I had an Oppa who would buy me stuff then save me from falling like that!”

“Are you okay?”

Gun was staring at you with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion while still holding onto you in his arms. Embarrassed, you quickly regained your balance by holding onto his shoulders to help yourself stand up properly.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

He sighed while taking the bag from the speechless employee that was still standing in front of you two.

“Be careful next time and don’t be an airhead.”

“An airhead?!”

As he walked towards the cashier to pay for the clothing and accessories, you scoffed while crossing your arms.

“How can he be such a gentleman and a dick at the same time?” you whispered to yourself while waiting for him to finish the payment.

After buying the clothes for you, all of the employees walked you both out of the store then waved goodbye at the both of you. You were just following Gun while walking down the street to your next apparent destination.

“Oh, I’ll take that.”

As you reached for the shopping bag with your old clothes in it, he dodged your reach while holding the bag even farther from you.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be the one to carry it for you.”

“Um, okay. But where are we going though?”

“You’ll see.”

When you reached your destination by foot, your feet were already killing you due to the heels as you went inside a fancy beauty parlor with Gun.

The cashier at the front desk greeted the two of you as she said, “Hi! What can I do for you?”

Gun pointed at you then told the woman behind the counter, “Give her the best treatment you’ve got.”

“Okay sir, just wait here and we’ll take care of her for you right away!”

With just those words, you were sent off to the wild once again.

A hair stylist made you sit down on a hair salon chair, where they styled your hair with an iron hair curler. Afterwards, a makeup artist and a nail manicurist did your makeup and your nails for you. They were gossiping away about famous Korean drama actors and actresses when they were pampering you nicely. All this time, you were wondering if this is what it really means to be living as a real “woman”.

All of these became new experiences for you. You’ve never dreamt about doing all this since you didn’t have enough money to even waste on such things that didn’t matter to you. However, you came to the realization that you wouldn’t have done this once-in-a-lifetime thing if it wasn’t for Gun, who took you to all these expensive places so far.

The hair stylist that did your hair caught you smiling to yourself as she asked, “What’s this? You thinking about your boyfriend waiting for you at the front?”

“Huh? Oh, no no no! He’s not my-”

The makeup artist jumped in as she said, “Awww, how cute. You’re so lucky to have such a handsome man as your boyfriend!”

“No, really, we’re not a-”

“Don’t be shy dear, and have some confidence! Be proud that you have such a hunk of a man. We’ve all been dying to see one come in here, but we rarely even see such fine eye candy. Right ladies?” said the older manicurist in admiration.

The rest of the beauticians nodded in agreement.

You just laughed in full embarrassment.

He’s not my boyfriend though…

“You’re all set ma’am!”

One of them brought over a mirror for you to take a look, and wow. They really did a good job. Once your eyes met the reflection of that mirror, you were completely unrecognizable. The work they did on you was incredible, especially the makeup. Who knew that the power of makeup would turn you into a different person? Your hair was all feathered and curled softly, while your makeup seemed natural. Not too bold, but still managed to make you look a little different. Your nails were done as almond French tipped nails, which were classic and beautiful at the same time. The tips of your nails were painted white while the rest of their color were polished in light natural pink.

“Oh my god, you’re so pretty! You really do look like a famous person!”

“Ah, to be that gorgeous is such a blessing. If you and your boyfriend ever do get married and have children one day, they will definitely be beautiful!”

Your cheeks started to heat up from that last unexpected comment as you watched the stylists around you giggle in delight.

. . .

After they were done with your treatment, they finally released you. They guided you back to where Gun was waiting for you near the front desk. While slowly walking towards him, your eyes met his as he stood up to see your final reveal.

Gun believed you were already pretty, but who knew that you could be even more beautiful than any woman he’d ever crossed paths with. Just standing there in front of him made him admit to himself that you are definitely his dream girl. Just everything about you was perfect. Your gorgeous face, the way your curves show off your perfect figure, your silky smooth hair, your relentless strength, your selflessness, and your amazing personality made him feel something different towards you. Even your imperfections were perfect to him, even though he wouldn’t have thought so at the very beginning of your encounter with him. However, he wondered what you were doing to him that made him feel so unlike himself recently. What type of effect did you really have on him? How can someone as cold as himself, suddenly be so moved by someone who’s the complete opposite of himself? All of these thoughts running through his head made him lose track of what was happening right in front of him.

“Gun, is everything alright?”

His consciousness seem to have returned to him as he saw you waving your hand in front of his face, trying to get his attention.

“I’m alright.”

The beauticians who were watching the two of you were smiling and giggling. You heard one of them said to the rest of them, “Aww, look at them having their little moment. He’s so speechless to see his girlfriend all dressed up and fixed just for him!” While they started to cheer you two on behind you, you turned around to see what they were doing behind you then reacted shyly as your face started to burn in embarrassment once again.

Ah geez, not again. Why can’t they just take the hint already?

From Gun’s peripheral vision, he glanced to see the specialists who gave you your treatment to be watching the two of you, which made him take a step back from you then cleared his throat. “They did a great job at taking care of you.”

“Oh yeah? I think so too. But I’m even more grateful towards you, so thank you.”

Gun suddenly turned around, trying to contain his cool when he heard those words leave your mouth. While looking away, he then said, “Don’t misunderstand my intentions. I just don’t want to be seen out with a woman who doesn’t fit my tastes.”

And we’re back to square one again.

“Wow, you never fail to ruin a heartwarming moment. You should keep a track record of how many times you’ve done it so far.”

He sneered. “At least I don’t dress like a tourist.”

The two of you started bickering once again that the stylists who were still watching believed to have witnessed a “lover’s quarrel”.

. . .

After thanking the parlor staff for their excellent service, you bid your farewells to them as you and Gun walked back to the car.

When you finally got in the car with Gun, the thought of your precious bag came in mind.

“Old Reliable! Where did you go?!”

With such a quick reaction, you turned around on your seat then rummaged through the backseats of the car. As Gun started the car and was about to put it in reverse, your sudden outburst caused him to release the break. However, he caught himself by stomping on the break with force, preventing the car from almost crashing the parked car that was in front of you. The sudden halt of the car then made half of your body fall down below, into the backseat car mats.

“The hell are you doing?! Just sit down already!”

“Where’s my bag?!”

“What do you mean? I put that thing in the shopping bag with your clothes! They’re in the trunk!”

“Really…?”

You sighed in relief as you picked yourself up from the mats then slouched back down into your seat.

“Unbelievable. Over a bag…” Gun grumbled in an annoyed tone. He got a cigarette from his pocket then lit it for a quick smoke, just to relieve the unnecessary stress that you have brought upon him. Not in a million years, did he think that he would have to go through this. But if he had a choice to choose who to go out with between you or Goo, he would’ve chosen you. Goo was just on a whole other level of chaos that Gun thought that it’d be impossible for himself to get through it if there were to be a car accident. He won’t be able to stand him if he was stranded with him for days or else he’d have to resort in killing him before a stranger finds them. This whole “stranded” scenario occupied his mind while he drove the both of you to the dinner location that he chose for the night.

Gun brought you to a five-star restaurant called “Pierre Ganaire à Séoul,” located on top of the Lotte Hotel in Seoul. When you got there, the whole restaurant literally displays high-class service.

The whole entire restaurant had dimmed lights surrounding the entire French gold interior. Glass chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling above illuminating dim lighting, which was complimented by the dimmed lighting of candles on each table. The ambience in the room was definitely classy and the mood from its customers was definitely romantic, fitting for a high quality French restaurant.

While you stood there looking around in astonishment, Gun held his arm out for you to be properly escorted to the table that he reserved for the both of you.

“Shall we? While I’m being nice.”

Smirking, you politely took his arm in yours, wrapping yours around his as the two of you walked side by side towards your table. While you passed by some tables on your way over there, many of the people who were already seated turned their heads to glance at you and Gun. The impression that the both of you exerted together was very noticeable, as if you two were a power couple. A woman who you passed by gasped as she whispered to her friend saying, “Oh my god, did you see what she was wearing? She had on the newest collection of Louis Vuitton!” Her friend replied saying, “I know! And did you see her boyfriend too? He’s so hot!” Other people around you were even convinced that you two were celebrities.

The eyes that you felt on you and the gossip surrounding you made you uncomfortable, making you glance at your feet shyly, but Gun reassured you by leaning into you and holding you closer to him. Whispering, he said, “Don’t worry too much and just let them stare and gossip. They’re just wishing that they could be us right now.”

When you got to the table that he reserved, you couldn’t believe your eyes. The table was located near a big window that had a breath-taking view of Seoul, with its city lights twinkling below. There was a big bouquet of red carnations sitting on the side of the table, with a small lit candle placed beside it. And centered right on the table, was a gold placard displaying the words, “Reserved for Jong Gun Park & (Y/N) Sasaki.”

Gun went around you to pull your seat for you in such a gentlemanly manner, making you feel slightly touched by the treatment he was giving you.

“Oh Mr. Park, you’re such a gentleman.” You teased as you sat on the seat that he offered you.

When he took his seat right across from you, a waiter appeared right in front of you.

“Good evening sir, and madam. Welcome to Pierre Ganaire à “Séoul. My name is Hyeon-Jin and I’ll be your server for tonight. Right now, we are offering our best alcoholic beverages for the evening. Most of our wine have recently been imported from France, and they are now available. Here are your menus.”

When the young waiter handed out your menus, you flipped through it to see what they had to offer.

What in the world? I’ve never seen so many zeros before for just food!

Most of the beverages and food that you’ve looked through seemed to be very expensive, that even if you converted the prices into yen, you know that you couldn’t even afford to pay it with the money you currently have. Also, most of the food on the menu weren’t familiar to you since you’ve never had French cuisine before. Just looking at the names for each dish made your head ache when you tried pronouncing it to yourself while reading the menu. Gun noticed that you were struggling to choose a meal from the menu so he took the initiative to offer for you.

“We’ll have two glasses of your finest red wine. Make it Domaine Leroy Musigny Grand Cru. Also, we’d like to have today’s evening special from the Grand Menu.”

“Alright sir, I’ll get that for you right away.”

The both of you handed back the menus to Hyeon-Jin then watched him dash away towards the kitchen. You finally turned your attention to Gun and asked, “How?”

“How what?”

“How do you even know what to order from that? And how can you afford to pay for something so expensive, even for just food?”

“I have my ways.”

“Of course you do.” you said sarcastically, as you looked down at the incredible scenery from the window.

“Here.”

Without warning, he reached inside his suit pocket and took out a small narrow envelope then handed it to you. When you took it, you asked, “What’s this?”

Gun raised an eyebrow while crossing his arms. “Don’t tell me you forgot about our deal.”

“What? But isn’t it a little too early to give me the money now?”

“It won’t make a difference anyways if I had given it to you later so consider this as one of my gifts to you.”

Sighing, you unwillingly put the envelope into your Louis Vuitton bag.

“I swear, I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t. It’ll take you too long to pay me back.”

“No, no, I will. Mark my words, I’ll pay you back for everything. For the clothes, the shoes, the bag, the makeup treatment, the dinner. Everything.”

Gun chuckled arrogantly. “Are you sure? They’re all pretty pricey.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. It doesn’t feel right to pay you back. Just tell me how much did everything cost.”

“Alright…”

Gun leaned in closer to you from across the table then whispered the total cost of his expenses into your ear. Right when you heard the amount, you could already hear God calling to you from up above because of how screwed you were.

“On second thought, I’ll just return everything that I can and I’ll just pay the rest of the things. Haha…”

I can already feel myself fading into dust…

Gun thought in his head that your reaction was priceless. He enjoyed these little moments with you that became so amusing to him, that it grew on him. He never had anyone offer to pay him back before, for something that he had personally given. To him, this was a first. If it was any other woman that he’d offer gifts to, they’d gladly accept them without hesitation. But you? From the start, you said that you didn’t even need them. That was already a rare sight to behold as you became a rare jewel to Gun. A true diamond in the rough. Your simplicity may be overlooked from the start, but your growing strength and charms were getting to him and he doesn’t know what to do.

On the other hand, you seemed to have noticed how close the two of you had gotten. A month hasn’t passed, yet it felt like the two of you had gotten closer than before. Almost like old friends who decided to have dinner with one another. In the candlelight, you admired his handsome caricature, his wide shoulders, his muscular body seeping through his expensive clothing, and his rich fashion sense right in front of you. He was definitely out of your league, but you still felt drawn towards him regardless of how you two live in completely different worlds. However, you weren’t just physically attracted to this man. This mysterious guy sitting right in front of you became so captivating to you. You felt like you just wanted to unfold all the little secrets that he had lying underneath his perfect physique. You liked the way he was mostly direct with you, when he needed to. His face was serious all the time, but you always looked forward to seeing his rare facial expressions. The constant arguing about the most littlest things that you both always got into was pretty ridiculous, that it was almost laughable. But looking at it now, the memories of those times somehow brings a smile to your face. Just having him with you, or even seeing him right in front of you, made your chest ache. These factors made you feel lucky and glad that you chose to be with him instead of accepting Goo’s offer. You wouldn’t have met such a great companion if you hadn’t. A companion? For some reason you thought that word didn’t suit him. How do you even label him? A roommate? As a trainer? A teacher? A partner? A friend? A close friend? They all seemed to have confused you. What even is your relationship with this man? You were unsure of yourself but why does it feel like you want something more than that? Were you actually starting to… like him?

“Hey, remember you told me on the first day that I’m not supposed to tell anyone about what our plan is and what we do?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, what if someone sees us? I know that the people that you’ve mentioned before from those gangs may not know me, but they DEFINITELY know you.”

“Yes, and?”

“And… wouldn’t it be bad if they stop to question us when they see you?”

“Okay, well think of it this way. You and I can technically say anything to them about each other, as long as we don’t disclose any information to them that involves our plan. It’s like acting. And besides, those crews aren’t from Seoul so we have a low chance of ever coming into contact with them.”

“Ah I see. So… I can say that I’m your cousin or something?”

“Yes, you can.”

“But… I can’t date my cousin though…”

“What do you mean by tha-”

“Sorry for the wait, sir, madam!”

You jumped a little, startled by Hyeon-Jin’s abrupt appearance. From the candlelight, no one could see how much of a fluttering mess you were, embarrassed by the possibility that Hyeon-Jin could have listened in at the wrong time. On the contrary, Gun cleared his throat, trying to hide his enjoyment from your sudden reaction.

“Here are your beverages.”

He pulled out two wine glasses from the bar cart of beverages that he was strolling around with, then placed a wine glass each on your sides. Afterwards, he brought out a wine bottle, then opened the bottle with a pop by using a wine corkscrew opener.

While pouring each of you a drink, he explained the significance of the wine in his hand by saying, “Domaine Leroy Musigny Grand Cru is a red wine that has a refined taste. It is of the finest quality, as it is usually enjoyed during special occasions and is normally purchased by the rich and powerful. Are the two of you celebrating anything tonight?”

“Erm…”

“Yes, we are, actually.”

What?

Your eyes turned to Gun looking at him, all puzzled.

“Oh wow, no wonder you reserved such a popular spot sir! We always get a lot of requests to reserve this specific table, mostly for romantic dates or anniversaries. And it’s pretty difficult to get a hold of this spot since there have been many calls who ask us to save this seat for a particular event. Did you reserve this table because you wanted to celebrate your anniversary?”

Aw man, not another misunderstanding! How many times have we been experiencing this today?

“Hyeon-Jin, we’re no-”

“Yes, something like that.”

What is this guy talking about? This isn’t even an anniversary!

While you were listening in on their not-so-true conversation, you decided to take a sip out of your wine glass.

“Ah, I see. That’s very thoughtful of you to reserve a special spot for you and your wife, sir!”

All of a sudden, you started choking on the wine you were sipping on as Hyeon-Jin’s words caught you off guard.

Hyeon-Jin gasped, as he said, “Oh no, madam! Don’t drink your wine too quickly! Here, have some water…”

While suffering in your coughing frenzy, you were patting down your own chest while coughing before accepting the water that Hyeon-Jin poured for you in a new glass.

Gun caught your reaction as he was trying his hardest to hide his smugness, by turning his head away from the small chaotic scene happening in front of him. He was doing his best to focus on the scenery from the window with such a straight face, when clearly, he’s enjoying your reactions by the minute. Who knew that he’d be entertained at a place that’s meant for sophisticated tastes and refinery?

“What was up with that reaction?” he whispered to himself.

Gun managed to compose himself as he turned his attention back to Hyeong-Jin saying, “I have to apologize, my wife can be a little clumsy while drinking sometimes.”

He managed to get a reaction from you, since you could feel the heat rise in your cheeks again in huniliation.

This guy… How can he say it with such a straight face like that? So, if he wants to play around like that, then fine. I’ll play his game.

After taking a few sips of water, you turned to Gun and smiled at him, with a hidden malicious intent.

“Oh honey, you’re such a jokester!”

You slowly reached your hand out to him, as yours met his. Your hand caressed his hand teasingly and ever so slightly, which lit up something inside of Gun. That playful smirk on your face gave him a reason to continue this hidden game between the two of you.

As you stared into Gun’s eyes, you already knew that your pretend date with him has commenced. Now, you two get to show each other’s acting skills.

Time to become a snobby rich person.

Gun asked Hyeon-Jin, “Will the food be arriving soon? My wife wants to eat as soon as it gets here.”

You laughed like what a haughty rich person would while smacking Gun’s hand in a bashful manner. “Oh stop it honey, I’m not a pig! But I’ve always been dying to taste the food here!”

“Oh yes madam, the food here is exquisite! You’ll definitely like it, I guarantee it. The food will be ready in just a moment. I’ll be taking my leave for now and I’ll come back with your meals.”

Hyeon-Jin bowed respectfully before leaving you two alone to converse with each other, honestly this time.

As you quickly let go of his hand, Gun jeered in on you for your delivery.

“And that’s how you deliver a proper performance. I’m impressed, you really are good at acting. Did you take any acting lessons?”

He made you laugh, while waving your hand dismissively. “Oh please, you’re such a jackass! I should be the one to ask you that. Luckily, I caught on to your scheme. But now I get what you were talking about. Now, let’s see how the exceptional Gun Park lasts before he burns out in his acting skills.”

He chuckled at your cute taunts before saying, “You’re on.”

Eventually, Hyeon-Jin came with the food in his hands. As he propped the two plates above his shoulders with both of his talented hands, he carefully placed both of your meals in front of you and Gun with elegance then gestures for you to try the food.

“There you are, sir, madam. I hope you’ll enjoy the food!”

“Don’t mind if I do!” You eagerly grabbed your silverware knife and fork before digging into your meal.

Each of you had the foie gras meal. The duck livers that had been sacrificed for your meals cooked to the point of perfection. Making the meat tender, to the point of it falling apart easily with just a poke from a fork, and for it to leave a savory taste as it melts in your mouth. What a delicacy. The foie gras had a special mushroom sauce, which consisted of vinaigrette dressing and finely sliced mushrooms. Its taste had a hint of sweet and sour, but was balanced marvelously as it complimented the texture of the duck liver.

As you cut a piece of the foie gras, you hooked onto it with your fork then slowly popped it into your mouth. As the foie gras hit your taste buds, you felt yourself melting along with it, in pure bliss. You sighed happily, as you said, “Oh my, this dish is so delectable! I can almost feel it melting on my tongue! It was so worth coming here! Right, honey?”

Gun patted his mouth with a cloth napkin after he tried the food as well. “Yes. Give our compliments to the chef for us, Hyeon-Jin.”

Hyeon-Jin sighed in relief, as he saw that the two of you had enjoyed the food then nodded happily. “I will gladly do that for you, sir! Madam!”

While you were happily eating your food, you noticed Gun leaning in closer to you all of a sudden.

“Babe, you got a little something on your face.”

Your eyes looked at him in pure confusion. “Huh? Where?”

And… “Babe”?

Gun grabbed your chin lightly as he slowly brushed his thumb across your bottom lip, all the way up to the right corner of your mouth. As he sat back down, he looked into your eyes while licking the tip of his thumb seductively, which had some sauce from the foie gras, that was previously smeared on your mouth.

When you watched him lick the sauce from his thumb, you sat there completely frozen. Eyes widened. Cheeks flushed. Heart racing. Thoughts were going a hundred miles an hour in your head, wondering if what you just witnessed in front of you was real.

What was that just now?! Did he so happened to just do that naturally, or did he do that on purpose? Wow, I can’t believe this. This man’s ego is truly something. How outrageous! And he managed to get me flustered like this too? How could I like someone so ballsy, such as him?! You’ve got to be kidding me right now. He thinks that he can top all of the other k-drama actors like that, huh? Not even Lee Min Ho can pull that stunt, but he can? Is he an expert at doing that?! No, he can’t be. Whew, unbelievable! Why do I feel hot right now and why is my heart pumping like I’m about to have a heart attack?! This isn’t helping!!!

“Uh… madam, is everything okay?”

“Huh?”

You turned your head towards Hyeon-Jin’s voice, who was still standing there next to your table.

With a quick “Ahem!” from your throat, you nodded at Hyeon-Jin while smiling. “Yes, thank you for your concern Hyeon-Jin. You should go ahead and tend to the other customers right now. We’ll be fine.”

“Oh alright madam, if you say so. Excuse me!”

As a result, he left you two alone in a new type of tension that you’ve never dealt with before.

“Hey. What the hell was that? Some sort of fan service?”

“Fan service? I didn’t know my wife wanted other things. How greedy.”

“What the-” your words were cut off, as you facepalmed yourself while groaning in frustration.

Now the tables have turned. It wasn’t you who has the upper hand now but instead, it was him. And you know damn well that he’s enjoying it.

“What’s wrong babe? You haven’t finished your food yet. If you wanted me to feed you, then you should have been more honest with me.”

Gun cut up a piece of his food then held it out in front of you for you to feed on in shame. At this point, he was clearly mocking you from the last comment you had about his acting skills. Just seeing your flustered expression was already giving him such a huge ego boost, that you had to come up with a way to turn the tide around.

When you raised your head up from your palm, you gave him a cold smirk.

“Oh, you’re good, no doubt about it. But don’t think that this is over yet. You haven’t seen what I’ve got up my sleeve…”

I must be crazy to try and pull this off, but if this is a war to see who breaks first, then I must do everything within my power to win. Even if that includes using my womanly charms! He is a man after all, so he might break with this little stunt. (God, please forgive me for this. I swear, this will only happen once.)

As you leaned in towards him, he thought that you finally accepted your food of shame, until you swiftly smacked the fork with the liver right out of his hand as it landed on the floor a few feet away from him. He looked at you with true confusion, wondering why the hell did you do that.

“Oh, sorry honey. Let me go get that for you.”

Gun’s eyes watched you intently as you got out of your seat then bent over in front of him to grab the fork with the liver still stuck to it, from the ground. His view was suddenly focused on your curvy ass, in which his eyes had trailed down your pencil skirt as it crept a bit up your thighs, giving him a bit of a sneak peek of what was underneath from the slit. As you stood back up again, you flipped your voluminous hair back while holding onto the fork in your hand. When you returned to your seat, you crossed your legs while holding out the fork with the piece of liver, out to him.

“This was yours right, my love? Say ah~”

Hehe, checkmate.

Damn. You’ve never seen such a speechless Gun in your life, and that goes to show that you’ve won this round. If you were to somehow go underneath the table right now, you’d definitely see how rock hard he had gotten from watching you bend over in front of him like that. Gun never knew that you had it in you to do such a thing in the first place, which made him form a mischievous smirk on his face while looking straight into your eyes with dangerous malice. The last words that he had for you during that dinner was, “You better watch your back.”

. . .

After Gun had paid for the food, your walk outside the streets of Seoul towards the car was very silent. As you followed him from behind, you stared at his tall figure while walking. Not a word was said ever since the dinner, and it was starting to worry you. You were carrying a fancy take-out bag that held your complimentary desserts in it, since Gun asked Hyeon-Jin to put it to-go right away.

Is he mad at me? Geez, I must’ve taken it too far. Or is he upset with what I did? Honestly, who wouldn’t. He must think that I’m a shameless woman now. Ugh, I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t think I’d be able to do such a thing in my life. I’ve only seen those types of scenes from badass action movies, where the female lead asserts her dominance. But, I’ve never seen him so quiet before. I hope I didn’t upset him or made him mad in any way.

Suddenly, you heard a voice from afar that ruined your train of thought.

“Hey, is that Gun and (Y/N)?!”

Who…?

Right away, you turned around to see Goo waving at you with a bloodied sword in his hand. However, Goo wasn’t alone. This time, there was a big guy with him who had a serious look on his face. Him and Goo were both dressed in suit and ties, but their outfits were stained with some blood splatters on them.

Is that blood…? What have they been doing all night?

You waved back at him, while walking towards him. Goo whistled as he saw a better view of you from up close.

“Woah, that is you! I almost didn’t recognize you until I saw that you were walking with Gun from that fancy hotel over there. What got you so dolled up, anyways? Did you two…?” Goo’s mouth curved to an impish smirk.

You heard the guy next to him let out a short gasp, as he said to himself while gritting his teeth and clenching his fists in frustration, “I-if that was me and Z-Zoe… then I would’ve been the happiest man in the world right about now! Damn that little Pikachu bastard, stealing my girl!!!”

Goo looked at the guy in irritation saying, “Hey, Logan. How many times did I have to tell you to get over that girl, and just continue to get stronger! At least make me proud here! Tsk.”

Goo turned his attention back to you. “So… did you and Gun hit it off…?”

“Huh? No, no, you got it all wrong! We were just-”

The words wouldn’t come out from your mouth as you paused. You couldn’t tell him that you two were there because you were celebrating your hard work of training. You believed that he isn’t allowed to know of what goes on between you and Gun. Plus, you couldn’t tell him that you two just came out of dinner as a pretend couple either, which would be an even worse scenario to explain.

“Hmmm…?” Goo and his friend were staring at you, waiting for a reply until…

“Didn’t I tell you to fuck off?”

As you turned around towards the sound of Gun’s voice, you saw him walk towards you three. He stood there, lighting a cigarette right in front of the three of you as he blew out smoke that exhaled out of his lungs.

Goo grinned wildly at the sight of seeing Gun again, to tease him once more.

“Gun, we were just talking about you! So what were the two of you doing at a hotel together? Did you two have ‘fun’ ?”

Gun took another puff from his cigarette before saying, “You can think whatever the hell you want, nosy prick. Even if I did explain, it wouldn’t change the fact that you’d still think the way you wanted about the situation.”

“Awww, no fair! I wanted to hear all the juicy deets from you.” Goo fake pouted, while Gun scowled back at him in annoyance.

You sighed in relief at how Gun handled Goo’s questions.

I wouldn’t know how to handle Goo if it weren’t for Gun being here. Thank god.

Unexpectedly, you felt a sudden urge to pee. You thought that it must’ve been the wine since you heard that alcohol does make people pee.

As you turned around to go back towards the hotel to use the restroom, you called out to Gun first before heading back the direction where you just came from.

“Gun, I need to go back to use the restroom real quick! I’ll be right back!”

Gun nodded, but before he let you go, he told you to hand over the bag full of desserts in it. You obliged, as you quickly handed it to him, for him to hold it in your place.

From far away, he made sure that you made it into the building safely by watching you. The sway of your hips moving while walking in those heels and those long legs of yours mesmerized him to the point that Goo definitely caught him checking you out from behind.

“Gun, you naughty boy! I caught you staring at (Y/N)‘s ass just now!”

“Tch. Can you shut the fuck already? You always say the most craziest shit out loud, that it makes me want to beat you senseless just for you to actually shut up.”

Out of nowhere, Logan towered in front of Gun, as if he were to protect his own master from him. Goo suddenly patted him on the back saying, “Hey, hey, it’s alright Logan. Gun here wouldn’t do that right now. He’s waiting for (Y/N) after all and like she said, she’ll come back real quick.”

Logan grunted as he returned back to his original position. Gun continued to let out his aggravation through that single cigarette in his hand.

“You know Gun, you should just make her yours already. Because if you don’t do it soon, she might be out of reach by the time you decide on pursuing her. You’ll soon regret it, and then you’ll end up all alone, without anyone being there for you.”

“You know, for a bastard like you, you really ARE a nosy prick. Why the hell do you keep pushing me to go after her?”

“Because you’ll hit rock bottom earlier than when you’re supposed to. Once you hit rock bottom, it should be by me and not by her. Remember, we’re rivals and we’ve got our own shit to deal with. So now, who’s the ACTUAL bastard here?” Goo said in a smug tone.

Logan let out a quiet, “Daaamn…” under his breath as Gun let out his last puff of smoke from his cigarette before throwing it to the ground and smashing it underneath his shoe. Eventually, you came out of the hotel after your long pee break and once you returned, you felt that you missed something important. You couldn’t help but think that something went down while you were away on the toilet, since you felt the serious tension among them. As Gun started to walk back towards the car continuing onwards in silence, you said your goodbyes to Goo and that other kid whose name that you caught was Logan.

Goo yelled out during his goodbyes, saying, “Until we meet again, (Y/N)! And next time will surely be much more interesting!”

You didn’t quite understood what he meant by that last part, but you were just exhausted at that point from everything that has happened.

When you finally got in the car, Gun finally pulled the car in reverse then started to drive without saying a word once again.

The silence was deafening, that even you could tell that it was pretty awkward to just sit there without saying anything. You couldn’t take it anymore with the silent treatment, as you suddenly decided to turn on the radio for some music.

However, when you turned on the radio, Doja Cat’s song called Streets was introduced in the radio as it just started playing right from the beginning. And as you listened to the song, it only just made the tension between you two to worsen. Your heart began to race and your hands began to sweat uneasily as your hands held onto your seatbelt. Just listening to the lyrics didn’t help the situation at all. From the side of your eye, you glanced at Gun to find him just concentrating on the road without saying anything. Weirdly, he didn’t seem too bothered by it. Eventually, you decided to finally turn off the radio right after the song finished playing and just sit there in uncomfortable silence throughout the way home.

. . .

Finally, you made it home. As Gun parked the Rolls Royce right in front of the house, the both of you got out of the car.

While you got the rest of your stuff from the trunk of his car, he eventually locked it with an advanced-looking car key, which resembles a remote.

It felt like an eternity just to get inside, due to the painful and awkward silence. While walking up the steps and following him from behind, you decided to just apologize to him right there and now.

God, I can’t take this anymore. I’ll just apologize to him and I hope he’ll forgive me and he’ll be alright afterwards.

When Gun finally stood in front of the door, he was in the process of inputting the passcode to the door. At once, you blurted out your apology to him.

“Gun, I’m sorry for what I did! I know that it was wrong to act so indecent while I was out with you. I got carried away, and was blinded by my need to win that little ‘game’ of ours. I’m sorry for being so immature. I’m truly ashamed of my actions, and […]”

When Gun managed to unlock the door, you followed him inside while still apologizing to him. You were going on and on about how sorry you were, and how shameful you acted during the dinner. During that time, you were setting down the bag of desserts on a table near the staircase, including your bag of old clothes for a second. You were getting hand cramps just holding onto the bags.

“[…] you know, I was just playing around, right? But it’s ok, you can call me shameful if you want to! You could even call me disgusting, and impudent, for how I was acting. I deserved it anyway, so I’m so-”

“Didn’t I tell you to watch your back?”

“Huh?”

You turned around to see Gun standing right in front of you, with his glasses already off of his face. However, you could’ve sworn that he was just near the door. He was closing in on you, as he made you back up onto the wall, right in front of the staircase. He blocked both of your sides by planting his hands onto the wall, trapping you while your back was now against the wall. His eyes was looking down onto yours, while his face was leaning in closer to you. While doing so, you could smell the scent of cigarettes from his warm breath.

“W-wait… Gun, what are you-”

“Shut up.”

Gun suddenly cupped your face and tilted your head upwards before he forcefully pressed his lips onto yours. His body was pressed against yours as you felt his pelvis grind against you. While he was leaning in closer to you more and more, you realized that this was technically your first kiss with a man. And you couldn’t imagine that the man who stole your first kiss, was no other than Gun Park.

The kiss that you two were sharing was tender for only a second, until he started to change the pace of the kiss into a more aggressive make-out session. The feeling of his lips became harsher, as his tongue entered your mouth while it played with yours, giving you the most heated French-kiss of your life. His tongue tasted of nicotine, while yours tasted like rich wine. His touch got rougher, as he started feeling up every inch of your body. You felt his right hand pull onto your top due to how it was previously tucked in, before it crept up from underneath your blouse, all the way to your soft breasts. His hand then started playing with your breasts, fondling one in his hand then grazed your nipple in circular motions with his thumb, making it peak. His left hand, however, sneaked its way up your pencil skirt, in between your legs. He then shoved his hand into your panties, feeling how wet you’ve gotten from his touch just by rubbing his fingers onto the entrance of your heat.

Embarrassed, both of your hands smacked his chest, desperately trying to push him away from you as much as possible. “Gun, stop- Ahh~”

What is this feeling? Why does it feel… good? Am I actually enjoying this? Have I gone insane?!

Your hands tried pushing him away but you felt your strength getting weaker, as this new feeling in your body had taken over, making your mind go blank. Weird noises began to emit from your mouth uncontrollably. While Gun was simultaneously pleasing you in multiple ways, his eyes adjusted to your face, seeing your pleasured reactions from the way he was touching you.

His lips pulled away from yours while still teasing your sensitive parts. “‘Stop’? That’s very hypocritical of you to say that. See? You’re already wet down here. And plus, didn’t you want this to happen? You were clearly begging for your ‘husband’ to do such things to you back at that restaurant. Who knew that my ‘wife’ would be so naughty…”

For some reason, your body was reacting on its own to his touch, that you can no longer control yourself. You felt your body heating up and your core aching with need. When his mouth pressed against yours for another time, his digits underneath your underwear started to pierce through your vaginal lips, barely pumping your insides. Just by feeling the inside of your heat, Gun can tell that you’re a virgin just from how tight you felt as his digits was already enveloped by your walls, barely entering into your depths. With that, he believed that he should be careful. Yet, his patience is already waning thin.

A new look in his eyes met yours. A look of deep insatiable lust. The words, “I think I’m going insane. I don’t think I can control myself any longer.” escaped through his gritted teeth as he didn’t hesitate to crash his lips onto yours once more.

Urgently, he grabbed onto every piece of clothing you had on just to tear them right off of you. Including, your new top and skirt with your bra and underwear.

What the hell, what’s gotten into him all of a sudden?!

You pulled your lips away in surprise, as you scolded him in alarm, “Hey, those were expensive AND brand new! Why did you have to do that?!”

“Tch. They’re just clothes! I’ll get you better ones later…”

“But-”

Gun silenced you with his mouth, as he suddenly hoisted your naked body up in his arms. His hands glided against your soft legs, forcing you to wrap them around his waist as he wrapped one of his strong arms around your waist. He started making his way up the stairs with your naked body pressed against his clothed self. His right hand was on the railing for guidance, and your arms were wrapped around his neck for support.

The two of you still had your lips on each other, even while Gun was carrying you towards his room. You found it impressive that he could multi-task like that. Soon, your need for him became desperate as you were starting to match his energy with yours, by running your fingers from the nape of his neck to his hair while you were sucking on his tongue. Gun didn’t like it when his hair was messed up by someone, especially during a fight. However, when it comes to you, he’ll make an exception. When the both of you got to the top of the stairs, both of his hands grabbed onto your cute ass tightly, as he rushed you straight to his room.

When he opened the door, he immediately slammed it right behind him then pushed you onto the bed, making you land on your back with a soft thud on the mattress.

You haven’t realized yet that this was actually the first time that you’ve ever been to his room, but that doesn’t matter to you right now. What matters is that he wants you and you want him in return. You stared up at his eyes full of longing. In exchange, he looked down at your eyes with incredible desire. Gun didn’t think that in any point in time, he’d ever get you on his bed like this. Short flashbacks of those times that he’d been with you started to appear in his head, reminiscing the times of when you smiled at him, when you’ve fiercely fought with him during training, and when you would constantly annoy him from time to time. But that strength of yours, was what captivated him and had him obsessed with you. It was like love at first sight. Even Goo’s words from tonight had been annoying him nonstop ever since he told Gun to make his move on you. But now, at this very moment, he got you in his grasp and he finally decided to act upon how he thought of you. Even when he always got the impression from you that you only saw him for the strict jerk that he was, it was time to show you how he felt about you. On the other hand, you’ve changed your views on him. You admitted that you thought that he was an ass at first, but when you got to know him, you couldn’t help but want to stay by his side. For the first time, you admitted to yourself that you wanted to be with someone, other than your own mother. This isn’t just lustful thinking or a phase that appeared at the moment. These are actual feelings that you’ve just come to realize now and you wouldn’t mind if the man standing in front of you, would touch you. It was time for you to show him what you really meant to him.

“I’ve always wanted to do this with you.” He said, as he confessed to you unexpectedly. At that moment, you could tell that he wanted you so badly that nothing is going to stop him now.

Silently, you watched him take off every piece of clothing that he had on his entire body and just by observing, he immediately got you flustered. Quickly, he started to unbuckle his belt, removing his pants and throwing them across the room. His suit came right off, then his white long-sleeved shirt as he unbuttoned it without even stopping to fumble through any of the buttons with such skill, revealing his muscular body and his solid abs which made you blush a tint of pink. You even caught his toned and tattooed arms flex as he threw his shirt across the room. If you were already blushing, then you probably won’t be prepared for what’s about to come next. Lastly, it was the moment you’ve been anticipating for. Your legs were quivering in anxiousness as you felt your core beating in between your legs, knowing that he’ll join with you soon. As he removed his black Louis Vuitton briefs, you saw his erected member sprung out from underneath them. You gasped, since you’ve never seen a guy’s penis so up close in your life. Sure, you’ve seen those stick-figure-like penis drawings on the desks at school sometimes, or those naked statues from Renaissance artwork, but this? This was much more detailed. This was the REAL DEAL. You couldn’t help but stare at his huge veiny member. His girth and his length somewhat intimidated you, which made you wonder how he’d fit inside of you.

Once all of his clothes ended up across the room, he immediately towered on top of you on the bed, trapping you in between his strong muscular arms once again. Underneath Gun, was your beautiful naked self. He gets to see every exposed feature on your body. Every scar, every mark, and every spot that he’ll stimulate just to make you go crazy.

His eyes pierced yours directly with a hint of desire in them as he said, “Are you ready, (Y/N)? I’ll make you even more worthy to become my woman than any other woman could. I’ll make sure that you’ll become mine.”

At this point, you couldn’t take it anymore either. In your head, you finally became obsessed with this man that you finally surrendered to his touch.

As you wrapped your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer to you saying, “Then, show me how I can be worthy of you.” initiating the start to a neverending night of passion.

[End of Ch. IV]

[fancyfeathers]

Society of Protection (Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x reader x original characters) (normalized yandere au)

Prologue and oc intro Chapter one Chapter two Chapter three Chapter four Chapter five Chapter six Chapter seven, part one Chapter seven, part two Chapter eight Chapter nine Chapter ten Chapter eleven Chapter twelve Chapter thirteen

Sketches of characters and notes for future scenes and arcs, this got posted on my discord first so they got to see it there first and now y’all are seeing it

And you all get a little bit of sneak peaks from my notes of dialogue and little paragraphs that may or may not make it into the final drafts of chapters (the ideas will still be there but the wording may change)

MC- between the end of Sky Casino Arc to mid Vampire Infection Arc (time still up in the air)

Your steps through the catacombs echoed against the stone walls, it felt like every click of your boots was setting off alarms for all of Paris to hear. You didn’t have long, you had to find Gaston before it was to late. You got away from the Sky Casino with your life, but just barely, one wrong step and it would have been easy work for the Hunting Dogs to detain you in whatever witness protection they called it, you didn’t buy that though. 

You shook away the thought, but a thousand others remained. Since the framing of the Armed Detective Agency you barely had time to even sleep. You had to push on, if you didn’t you had no idea what could happen, you still had no idea what could happen. Then…

You heard it…

Footsteps…

From down the corridor…

You dropped the lantern you held, the glass shattering on the ground. You turn to run, sprinting full speed down the hall. You didn’t are it far before you saw from the corner of your eye a faint golden glow and hands grabbing you scarf, nearly making you choke.

“Found you.”

Dr. Stevenson- Perfect Crime Arc

“Get away from me!” A gunshot rang through the room, piercing the male figure in front of her. The doctor’s hands shook as she held the gun, her face horrified  at what she did. Blood, so much blood… did she just do this? 

The gun fell down to the floor with a heavy clunk of the the metal against the wood. The doctor had shot her own flesh and blood, her mother. A mother who did experiment on her, who made Stevenson a lab rat more than a daughter. Robbie slammed her first against the wall as she fell to ground. She knew who exactly who did this, it wasn’t her, it was her ability if you call even call it that. She gritted her teeth and called out to no one visible in the room, as if yelling at a ghost. “Damn you! I don't need you to survive like you need me. I'll become whole again as you dance with death and I'll rejoice as you breathe your final breath.”

Out of the shadows at her final word a hand wrapped around her throat, pinning the doctor to the wall. It looked like a darker version of the prim and proper doctor, wild hair, red eyes, pale skin that made her look like death. The ability made figure leaded forward to that her face was mere inches from the doctor’s. “I'll live inside you forever! You can't control me, I live deep inside you, each day you'll feel me devour your soul.” 

The doctor began choking as the shadow like figure yelled at her. Her hands struggling to reach the gun on the ground that she dropped. Just as black dots began forming in her vision she grabbed the gun and raised it to her ability’s head and…

“Take all your evil deeds and rot in Hell.”

“I'll see you there, Doctor!”

BANG

Jane Austen- Kamui Revelation Arc

classified

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Sorry about this, but it’s is me moaning again.

I dunno. I am so worn out.

Everything is broken or breaking. Everything needs work. I can’t afford to fix or replace anything, and the basics of things like “shelter” are getting rather conceptual rather than real.

My body is failing me, and has so much wrong at once I don’t even think my standard answer to how I’m doing of “surviving” is true anymore. Like, the clock is ticking on when I break down for good. It can be summed up as: on physical/health level a pretty bad.

I need proper exercise, like not working on stuff, but like my walks in the woods. I miss the woods. I used to go every single day, and now I haven’t even been managing once a week!

I don’t have time for just being with animals, so they only see me when I feed them or give them medicine. I feel guilty all the time.

You know, I haven’t taken pictures of my sculpting for over three weeks now. I haven’t even taken a single photo in a week…a WEEK! ME! Who had been taking 5,000 photos a month! I carry my camera but I never have time or energy or focus or…I dunno, I just don’t care.

I haven’t gotten any sculpting ready to sculpt with. This little bit of old stuff will take forever to grind back into usable, and if I didn’t have to make an Easter gift for Mom I think I might just give up. It’s no fun with sculpey that crumbles and won’t stick, that has given my thumbs and fingers huge calluses, and I’ve no energy to waste making this god awful crap.

But I’ve gotta make something for Mom. I have no ideas and awful sculpey that won’t even let me attach ears on a damn rabbit! I’m really stressed about this…

Long ago I gave up writing except for my nightly journal entry. Even that has gotten to be more of a laundry list of my day since my life got too wrecked for contemplation. I haven’t missed a night since I was in my late teens, but for the last five months I’ve been falling asleep writing almost every single night! It’s gotten so bad that I am falling asleep before I finish writing about even my morning.

Then I wake up, at 3 or 4 am with a light burning my eyes, ink all over me, an a deep sense of fear and despair overwhelming me. I lie awake for hours, desperately trying to distract my brain from feeling like I’ve fallen out of a plane without a parachute.

Six hours of sleep. No matter how early I go to bed, or late I lie in, I can’t seem to get more than 6 hrs of sleep! I dream about sleep when I actually do dream.

I miss dreams. Proper dreams. I used to have the most amazing dreams.

I also miss daydreaming. I used to do that ALL the time. My hands could be busy but I could still conjure other worlds. . I loved being cozy in bed just so I could imagine, and now I lie there and worry. I can’t even daydream in that most perfect of settings!

Hell, I can’t think. As a child when people asked my favorite thing to do I’d say “thinking” first. Now it’s like there is no space or energy left over. Am I getting stupid too? I feel like I am. I certainly can’t focus.

That includes focusing on movies. I used to watch a movie every single night. Now even when I watch one I feel like it slides right out of my head. I “watch” it enough to tell you the gist of the plot but it’s like a partially over heard voice rather than a conversation.** I do a lot of “I think I’d like it, but I need to rewatch it when I can actually, you know, watch…”

I keep forgetting things. I understand why. I have soooo many things to do, new things get added every damn day, I have only one me to do it all, and this me is exhausted. Of course I forget things. But it still bothers me.

Today I remembered I had forgotten the new book to start reading Mom. I’d left it at her house yesterday, having picked it out before spending the next three hours working on stuff. So I went around there to get it to read it when I called her, but it turned out I had also forgotten where I put it. (In my defense, I’d set it on top of a stack of stuff I’d been sorting out, and when it fell over I’d been too tired to pick it up right then. It was kinda out of sight, out of mind under the pile) Then, when I went to call Mom it turned out I had forgotten to charge me phone! So today Mom never got her call because I’m a forgetful idiot!

I’m terrified I am going to forget to pay this one bill by the end of the month. I have to save the money for it out of my grocery funds, so it’s going to be after next week’s shopping trip before I can pay it. Until then I have it set up on the stove, which, yeah, is a bit of a hazard, BUT at least I have to look at it every day.

I have to look at it every day. My chest tightens when I look at it. And this is a doable bill! I just have to spend a few weeks with mac-n-cheese or bean soup. Imagine what it would be like if I had gotten the car worked on, like I need to, or if I went to a doctor, like a normal sensible person would do?

Sorry. I don’t suppose there is a point to all this. I’m tired, I feel rotten, my life is getting more precarious by the day, I am mostly not doing any of the things I enjoy, and not having fun when I try to. I have no money or energy or time. And, being isolated and alone in all this, I vent on my silly blog where people are trying to enjoy two year old snow pics without having to put up with my constant whining!

LOL/**sobs**

(And now I’m thinking of all the asks, comments, and messages I haven’t replied to yet. Geez! That makes inflicting this on you folks even worse!!)

**Movies are like conversations, at least if you do it right. Watching isn’t a passive experience as you let yourself go “into” the movie. It doesn’t matter if you hate it and mock it, or adore it and are inspired. Your watching reacts. You aren’t watching the “same” movie as the person sitting next to you, because you bring your experiences, personality, and so forth to it. The object of the movie is incomplete without a viewer, but each viewer completes it with themselves. Not explaining this well….

[sezja]

Febuwhump Day 2: Solitary Confinement Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Characters/Ship: Original Characters (Darcy) Triggers/Content warnings: Self-harm (burns), food insecurity

The song used in this fic, "Smith's Circle" by Heather Dale

It was just a little fire.

Darcelyn slumps on the steel slab - their "bed" for the duration of their punishment - and sulks at the far (or rather, not so far) wall. It's a tiny cell: big enough that a fully-grown Garlean man could lie down in it, but not so big that it'd be comfortable to lie down in. Narrow, too. It'd be cold, too, they expect, if they hadn't long since mastered the delicate art of warming the air around them just so.

Somehow they expect it'll be the only tiny comfort they get in here.

All this for catching the mess hall on fire? Well, that doesn't seem fair.

Solitary confinement seems a little excessive for one little fire.

...Well, alright, so this might be their third or fourth "tiny step out of line" in two moons; and they might be getting on their commander's nerves, ever so slightly-

"It's only a week," they mutter to themself, drumming their fingertips on the bed (would it have been so hard to give them some proper sheets?). "How bad can it be?"

After all, they've got themself for company, right?

-

The first problem is time.

They don't have a clock, never mind a window. The only way to gauge the passing time is the delivery of their meals - through a small opening in the thick, heavy door. A small window slides open, food slides onto a waiting ledge on the inside of the door, the window snaps shut. Twice a day.

They're still on reduced rations from their last little infraction, after all.

By the second day, the crawl of time is already starting to gnaw at them, and boredom too - they're supposed to be "reflecting on their actions," but what's there to reflect on? They'd lost control of a spell. Not their fault other Garleans are squirrelly about magic! Also not their fault if the various signiferi tasked with training Darcelyn were better-accustomed to thaumaturgy than pure pyromancy; whose fault is it, really, if none of their lessons are worth spit to them?

They yawn.

They're a little tired. Might be night time.

Well, might as well try to get some sleep.

-

"Aaaaa smith brought his blanket and he laid it before him! People came up from miles around-"

They lay on the floor, trying to reach the walls of their cell with splayed limbs.

"-To sit in a circle and trade their treasures; each in turn put their goods on the ground!"

There's a light in the ceiling high above, and they try to stare at it until they see shapes when they close their eyes.

"Ten yards of trim and some heavenly cider; got a bucket here made of wood and fiber-"

Singing fills the silence, even if it is so loud it hurts their own ears, echoing off the narrow walls.

"An old leather belt; pins for your hat, I think one's a turnip, and the other's a cat-"

How many days has it been?

They try to count meals. Six? No, seven.

-

"You know, I think I like the nickname Darcy."

-

"Are there cameras in here?" They squint at the empty walls. Nothing visible, but what do they know about magitek? No one wants them around machines.

"Can you see me?" They do a silly little dance in the middle of their room. "Can anyone see me? Can anyone hear me?"

Someone delivers the food twice a day. They sink to their knees in front of the door, staring at the narrow little window the food comes through.

"Hel-loooooo!"

They tap at the door with one finger. "Anybody out there?"

They try to pry around the edge of the window, but the mechanism is on the other side. No way to pry it loose. Well, isn't that just unfair? What if-

They push at it, hoping to break it open. They try fire, and scorch their fingers for their trouble.

Good, solid Garlean construction.

Dammit.

Swearing, they rock back on their arms and kick the door instead. Finding this deeply satisfying, they do it again. And again. And againandagainandagain-

-

Five days. Probably. Right? How many meals? Did the guards forget to feed them yesterday? They're hungry. Or bored. Feels the same.

-

"Ow-"

Just little sparks, just enough to sting. They leave red welts on Darcy's arms and legs; they'd stripped to the skin a few hours ago. They'd laid on the floor again for a while, letting it be cold against their skin, until that got boring, too, and then-

"Ow!"

Fire got them in here; it might as well keep them entertained.

-

When the window clicks open again, they lunge at it, scrabbling at the opening.

"Hey- listen- do you-"

It snaps shut without any answer, and without any food, for that matter.

Lesson learned.

-

It's been a week they're sure it's been a week

-

It's been a week have they forgotten them here

-

It's been a week are they going to die here

-

It's been a week maybe if they just set themself on fire they'll be-

-

It's been a week.

The door opens.

Free to go.

[dukeoftheblackstar]

Hi Duch :3 I saw a post about your clone OC and I don't see any other posts about it. Can you tell me more about it? I think Commander Vitamin and the Pill Boys are very interesting. Not that I'm complaining about your constant posts about Plo 😅 😅 😅 

Hi ♥ ~ !!! Omg thank you ;/////; them boys be nice ♥

@saengakand I have an AU where Plo Koon gets temporarily assigned to a very problematic, rehab-fresh medics turned battle squad because they're no longer allowed to handle any medical drug due to their obsessive/addictive nature and potential high-risk foolishness turned murder if they get triggered really bad.

You know the trope; bunch of secretly murderous bebbies who are so damn polite and well-behaved, but get unhinged on drugs.

In this AU, the Wolfpack gets assigned to Pong Krell for the sake of hilarity and even more chaos.

So, Plo takes care of the Pill Boys and they jive so well because unlike the Wolfpack, they aren't shit, feral boys (I love my 104th so much). The Pill Boys are super nice.

They don't cuss.

They don't provoke.

They always ask the General's permission for anything. Anything including if they could sleep while en route to a mission, ask if they could get cups of caf for themselves, asks if they could hit the refresher after the mission and doesn't do so unless Plo dismisses them and it's adorable AF, okay?!

They are always very willing to help anyone without a second thought often getting them heavily injured. <- And this is the kicker because since they have been 'casted aside' due to their obsessive/addictive nature, they cannot be treated in medbays unattended and with proper and thorough diagnosis because they have been known to purposely injure themselves for a fix.

They are excellent marksman and most of them (I think we made them only five or six) are snipers.

All in all, THEY NICE BOYS who'd help an elderly cross the street and smoke crack right after. Which is something Plo needs to fix.

With Plo being very patient and attentive — too attentive to the Pill Boys, we made unhinged, overly jealous and loyal Wolffe get into a row with them when the Pill Boys lost Plo in a mission (he got captured but he's alright).

Some silly scenes are Plo going all "Commander" and you'll hear Wolffe and Vitamin answer at the same time. Wolffe just mad sus and Vit (Vitamin) is just good bebbi boy who looks at Wolffe, squints, and then back at Plo.

Saengak and I haven't built the squad yet, but we had Commander Vitamin ready.

Commander Vitamin (Vee-ta-min) is very level-headed like his troops. A very chill guy who'd just give you a nod if you needed anything and would do it. If you tell him someone robbed your purse, he's not about that chase life, but he'd have that thief sniped on both calves and then calmly walk towards it to apprehend it.

He'd pick up on some quirks to determine if you're lying or not, but it's not always accurate. If he fucks up because you lied to him, you best keep your windows and doors shut because this lil freak will sneak in with the squad and make 'day after yesterday' excessively inconvenient as they are not a very violent and vengeful squad.

They would:

Dump all your toothpaste but leave it blown up enough to make you think it still had the same amount from last you remember. So you end up squeezing it for minutes just to get that last itty, bitty, paste out that barely is the size of a pea.

They are resiliently patient enough to organize your laundry into your dressers and closets and replace the clean ones with the dirty ones.

They will empty your detergent bottle and swap it with bleach.

They will glue a piece of super small pebble at the end of your shoe so when you walk, you'd stop to dump the 'sand' or 'whatever it is inside your shoe that you feel'. So when you think it's all good and you slip your shoe back in? Still there.

The Pill Boys are also in possession of so much sand to use for 'retribution'. So please expect your pockets, how ever small, big, hidden, used and uncommonly used they are, to have handful of sands.

Thank yo for your interest on Commander Vitamin and the Pill Boys. Here they are with Plo (LOLOLOLOL)

Photo by @saengak

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Hey ! You are awesome so I’d like to request —- A FREE BEE FOR YOU!! Any character, any situation, just something you’ve been dying to write or maybe a cute lil idea you’ve had? I love your world building so I know I won’t be disappointed. I hope this doesn’t come across as extra work, but if so then your free bee could be to just take it easy and not write if you want :) have a nice day 💜

FREE THE BEES-

aaaaanywaaaaaay!! this is like handing me a blank check, I hope you know XD

sooooo since you said you love the worldbuilding... I've been wanting to write one of my OCs more, this is Marlowe who's a genderfluid under-butler at the Phantmohive estate!

and, well, this is what happened when Finny first came to stay there :D

also all I heard was "angst me Mommy" so I sincerely apologize but also it's not that sincere =)

The Phantomhive estate is quiet when MARLOWE wakes up.

They sit straight up in bed, unsure of what exactly woke them. A glance over at Mey Rin’s bed reveals that the maid is still asleep, and barely snoring, so it couldn’t have been her. It wasn’t a nightmare of patchwork memories, either.

All they can think of is that perhaps they’re on edge after a new arrival to the manor. A young man that their master gave the name FINNIAN, who has the same loss of hope and want for it in his eyes that Marlowe had once upon a time. (The same that they think Mey Rin and Bard must have had too, and maybe even Sebastian, when they were first taken in.)

This is the first time since they’ve been in Ciel’s employ that someone new has joined the servants’ ranks. It’s only been about six months, so despite being settled in, they’re relatively new themself; twenty-four years of life behind them and the best in front of them. Finnian looks to be at least five years their younger, maybe more than that.

As they slip out of bed, their mind flickers back to the introduction they and the rest of the staff had with him. His hair is incredibly short, like someone cut all of it away and it’s only beginning to grow back. He seems hesitant to make any big movements or show any big emotions.

They remember what it was like when they were swept away to the manor. They were nervous about talking to Mey Rin and Bard. All they could do was follow Sebastian round like a lost puppy, taking his orders and mimicking his actions in the hope that they could become someone worthy of being saved.

They can recall washing seven years’ worth of the East End off them, scrubbing so hard their skin turned red. Changing into the masculine clothing provided for them and the sheer relief at being reminded that they wouldn’t be forced into a dress, because that was not a butler’s uniform.

… The world can be so cruel. Knowing what they went through before they got here, it makes them wonder what poor Finnian has been through.

Their simple silver lighter and a cigarette are both drawn from their bedside drawer while they head out the door. If they can’t sleep, they might as well smoke.

It’s of course not proper to do so inside the young master’s home, especially given his condition, so they always go outside to kill a cigarette. The garden has been their small sanctuary for it during breaks; practically as soon as they step onto the grass, they’re striking their lighter to start the cigarette.

They’ve got a few puffs in when they suddenly hear shaky breathing that isn’t their own. Marlowe looks over toward the rosebush, and their eyes widen when they see Finnian crouched beside it.

He’s just barely missing all the thorns, curled in on himself with tears in his eyes. It’s the picture of someone in distress if ever Marlowe has seen one, and it tugs at their heartstrings.

It wasn’t too long ago that this was them. They recall being up one night sobbing in fear that they’d be kicked out for asking Ciel to refer to them as ‘he’ one day… only for Mey Rin to hold them and stroke their hair and reassure them that wouldn’t happen. Bard once saw their hands tremble as they were looking in envy at his cigarette, and he gave it to them, seemingly able to realize another person who was desperate to numb their pain with something.

Even Sebastian was a comfort, strict as he is. It’s a sharp, powerful memory ― their tears spilled over their cheeks, berating themself for having made a small mistake. And Sebastian’s hands came to rest firmly on their face, and that stern voice of his cut through all their horrible thoughts.

“What did you tell me when you first came here… that you would try hard even if you stumbled? That you would fall nine times, and get up ten? You are no longer that helpless, dirty urchin from the street, Marlowe. You’re better than that now. You are a Phantomhive servant. Straighten your back, fix your mistake, and do what you promised me you would do: make me proud.”

These people have had faith in them. Their fellow servants are becoming their friends, and their master expects the best from them because he knows they’re capable of it.

Marlowe cannot look at someone who was just as lost as they were and simply pretend not to see the suffering. Everyone else here has made them feel welcome. They want to do the same for Finnian. He deserves to be comfortable in his new home.

They quietly walk over, the grass rustling under their feet, and lower themself down to sit on his other side. He startles at the abrupt presence, but all he does is look over them with wide eyes.

Awkwardly, they offer their cigarette in his direction. Though, it doesn’t appear he’s one to smoke. “Oi… want a drag?”

“N… no…” His voice is so small. He shakes his head at them, and scrubs at his tears with the heel of his palm. “M… Marlowe… why are you out here?”

They shrug. “Woke up. Started thinkin’. Decided I needed a smoke. Wot are y’ doin’ out ‘ere?”

He blinks, and the quick, in-and-out staccato of his breathing becomes even more apparent now that they’re closer. “I… I guess the same…? Minus the s-smoking.”

“That right?” They take a drag before blowing out a thin stream of smoke, away from Finnian. “Wot y’ thinkin’ ‘bout that led y’ outside?”

He stiffens up. The tears start to pool at the bottoms of his eyes again, and he buries his face in his hands. “I… I like it here… but… I woke up… ‘n’ I just… felt like I had t’ get outside for a minute. I-I felt… I felt trapped.”

Trapped? In a way, they get it. Except, it feels like something a little different with him. They take another puff, then give his shoulder a nudge with theirs. “I ain’t gonna judge if y’ wanna talk ‘bout it, Finnian. Get it out so it don’t eat y’ up.”

For a long minute, he’s silent aside from his unsteady breathing.

“The… place I was at before. They were doctors. Doin’ experiments on us. They kept us inside, we weren’t allowed to go out.” Marlowe can feel his entire body shuddering with the force of a bad memory. His voice gets progressively harder to understand as he keeps talking, because the crying starts to take over, although they think they get all the important parts.

“I woke up ‘n’ I felt… I felt like I was… in a cage… even though I had room… ‘cause there were walls keepin’ me in! It’s s-stupid, I know it ain’t like it was… but I j… I just… felt like I was… like I was gonna die if I stayed in there… my heart was beatin’ so fast I could feel it in my ears, ‘n’ it was like I c-couldn’t breathe ‘n’…”

Marlowe finishes their cigarette, and tosses it beneath their foot so they can at least attempt to grind it out. No sparks catch on the grass, so it’s fine. They’ll check it again before they take Finnian inside.

With one arm, they drape around his shoulders and gently pull him against their shoulder so the poor boy can cry and be miserable in peace. They notice there’s almost no hesitation when he leans in, pressing his face against them.

Inside, they’re a powder keg waiting to explode. Why does the world have to be like this? Why do people have to be so terrible?

What they went through was bad enough. Finnian’s been through hell, literally being experimented on? Kept inside for his whole life? He’s been tortured. It’s to the point that he’s here, in a safe place, a warm bed and food and people who accept him, and he can’t relax because his mind is telling him something bad is going to happen simply because he’s got four walls and a roof around him.

Anger roils and bubbles inside them as they tuck Finnian’s head under their chin. Like they think they can protect him from his own thoughts and fears.

“Fuckin’ bastards, puttin’ y’ through that,” they mutter. It’s not fair to compare the horrible pasts of anyone here, but at least they can say they’d probably rather have the predictability of their father’s belt and their mother’s starving disapproval than what Finnian’s been through. They suddenly feel grateful for the abuse their parents foisted on them.

That’s fucked up, ain’t it? That’s so fucked up. What I went through was bad too, but… this poor kid.

They hold him as close as they think they can without making him feel confined. That’s part of the problem, right? Too tightly and it will only make things worse.

“Get it out. ‘S alright. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with wot y’re feelin’.” They try to keep their voice soft so they don’t set him on edge.

It’s difficult when they’re so full of rage at what they world has done to him.

And he just continues to wail, holding back the noise as best he can and sobbing into their shoulder. Like he’s used to trying to suffer quietly.

That pisses Marlowe off even more.

“’S alright, Finny,” they repeat, and they don’t know quite why they shorten his name like that. “Y’re safe. Ain’t nothin’ ‘r nobody gonna ‘urt y’ while I’m ‘ere.”

A hiccup comes from him as he lifts his eyes up just briefly. There’s a look on his face that’s almost a smile. “… Finny…? I-I… I like that…”

Of course, just like that, he goes right back to crying as soon as they return the smile.

“Oi, yeah. Don’t worry, Finny.” Their fingers sift lightly through the sparse strands of hair that are poking out from his scalp.

“Stay out ‘ere as long as we need t’.”

Because everything else be damned, they’re going to make sure he feels safe here.

[skylermadness]

The Rook (Heymans Breda TF/PMC)

(Original Date of Upload: June 10, 2024)

Original Description:

This was initially a commission for YGuy99 on FurAffinity, but spiraled into more of a collaboration. Furthermore, a downloaded PDF with proper formatting has been uploaded on his page. It can be accessed here. This has admittedly been a few months in the making! I admittedly know next to nothing about Fullmetal Alchemist but truthfully after writing this I am very much tempted to get into it. Although I will note that I mainly handled the writing of the initial draft, and a lot of the descriptive systems present in this story were fully handled by the commissioner. Honestly though I feel like he really improved the story in every way with everything he added! But I do thank him a ton for the initial commissioning, especially because this was a really fun story to do. Rated Mature for mild usages of mature descriptive systems and themes.

The sound of a door closing in a less-than-gentle manner resonates through the air of Wyatt’s bedroom, the young man the place belonged to having fully stepped in.  The slam reflects less of a “welcome home” and more of a “thank god that’s over,” whatever “that” is.  With a wistful sigh, he flicks the lightswitch, illuminating the space and allowing him a proper view of his bed.

Wyatt has been feeling many things since he got off work today.  Exhausted, frustrated, worn-out physically and mentally.  At a hyperbolic level, he relates it to coming back from war, a monthly war to pay rent on-time.  Even worse, this has now become the standard cycle of events and emotions that arises from a typical workday at this job, a job that can only be described, generously, as a motley mix of banal and draining. Running around in circles like a rat race every day has been debilitating his mental state, digging him further and further into the doldrums.

Wyatt continues to stare at his bed, zoning out like a zombie.  His instincts nudge him forward, but a lingering dread tethers him to his current spot.  Bedtime… a source of healing comfort, but also the gateway to fast-forwarding into the next predictably unpredictable day.  It doesn't feel particularly pleasant for the young man that his two modes nowadays flip between work and sleep, leaving hardly any time in-between for actual normal human stuff.  That very thought would make him shudder, but his weary physical state only allows him to shuffle slightly where he stands.  Not even enough energy to complain.

Still though.  How much longer must he beat his head on the wall and slog through his current job to simply make ends meet until the next round?  How much longer until the grueling loop of stress and exhaustion mounts up and becomes too much for him?  How much until everything combined finally makes him snap?  He knows it’ll only take one more bad interaction to cause a meltdown, to prompt him to quit, to get him fired.  To force him into the only thing worse than his current situation: another nerve-wracking round of unemployment.

As hard as Wyatt tries to count his blessings, he’s built up some unfortunate resentment, stemming from trying to force himself to constantly feel grateful for such a palled, monotonous existence, solely on the basis of the alternative being that much worse.  From counting blessings to counting days, hours, minutes… how much longer?  Isn’t he meant for more than this?

The mental bombardment of such answerless questions do not uplift Wyatt whatsoever.  It simply seals his fate.  This sense of resignation gently, forcefully guides him to limp towards his bed, like a set of invisible puppet strings.  He pulls out his phone during this mental spiral in order to set tomorrow morning’s alarm.  At least he's gotten used to doing things off of five to six hours of sleep alone.  That has to mean something, right?

After setting the alarm to 5:30 AM, his exhaustion takes over, seasoned with dread, and he properly collapses onto the bed, not even taking the trouble to remove his work uniform.  Doesn’t really matter if he’s just going straight back anyway, or so he convinces himself.

Naturally, he expects to feel nothing but the softness of his blankets and the inviting allure of the mattress to beckon him closer upon it.  However, whatever comfort he could cling to breaks in an instant.  Something small pokes into his torso, accompanied by the sound of some crinkling paper.

“Wha…?” Wyatt musters the strength to roll leftwards and onto his back, then properly sitting up to investigate.  His expression changes to one of confusion when he sees what it is.

He takes his left hand and picks up the object, finding it to be a simple chess piece.  It’s a white rook specifically, shaped like a castle tower, and as he holds it, the fine material surprises him even further.  It’s very cold, as if made of marble, and with a closer look, he deduces that may very well be the case.  It’s a very lovely piece, but a rather strange find for Wyatt nonetheless, seeing as he doesn’t really play chess.  Any set he’s owned has long since found its way into storage, so he can’t begin to speculate where this thing came from.  If someone’s lost it, then they surely miss it.

Not long after does he look back at the spot again and fully notice some kind of note that the chess piece had come with.  He picks that up as well, realizing that the note is made of some kind of elegant parchment paper, while the writing on it is etched in dark ink and has an equally-as-refined handwriting, as if scribed with a quill.  As he reads through it, he can’t help but notice a distinct air of sophistication, as if someone very important is speaking directly, personally to him.

“You are the rook.  A team player who wields both physical strength and tactical prowess.  The rook moves vertically and horizontally across the board, as far as it wants to.  You are a stalwart force in all capacities, and those who underestimate you on appearances come to regret it in the end.  This will make sense soon enough.”

“The heck does any of that mean?” asks Wyatt.  His gaze revolves between the note and the chess piece as he fully questions everything about this obtuse observation.  The rook and the parchment are obviously related, but how they got here is a complete mystery to him.  A part of him wonders if this is some weird work thing he accidentally took home, but he doubts he wouldn't have noticed a small sheet of paper, much less a whole chess piece, stuck to him during his drive home.  Furthermore, he usually locks his door, and the thought of someone just breaking in to give him this cryptic message feels a little absurd, yet still unsettles him nonetheless.  Stuff like this doesn't spontaneously manifest out of thin air!  Maybe he’d received this in the mail earlier, though he’s sure he’d remember as such.  Or, or maybe…

From there, Wyatt slides down a mental spiral, brainstorming a viable reason behind this.  While his eyes peruse the mysterious note, he also unconsciously rubs the chess piece with his thumb.  In his fixation, he fails to notice a pressure welling up within that hand.  Small at first, easy to ignore as his focus remains elsewhere, but increasing as seconds pass.

This strange pressure precursors the odd transformation starting to set in.  Each finger of his left hand, initially fairly average, is steadily getting thicker, the length of each finger also extending forward.  His knuckles crack and pop gently, his fingertips blunting and enlarging with the rest of his digits.  Whatever is happening to Wyatt’s fingers works its way into the rest of that hand, starting a process of swelling.  The mounting pressure makes that hand more firm, more meaty in comparison to its previous appearance.  Even the skin under his fingers and on his palm gains more prominence, padding up, becoming soft and tough.  After a short moment, Wyatt’s hand would look disproportionate, like it belongs more on someone much beefier than himself.

Though he’s stayed oblivious up to that point, the amalgamation of sensations within his hand has grown way too much for the beleaguered young man to ignore.  Another tinge of pressure finally breaks his daze, and he turns his head.

“Why is my hand so- wh- what the-”

Wyatt is pierced by shock.  He completely disregards the note and drops the rook as he takes a proper look, comparing both hands in a panicked fervor.  The left one has already become so much larger than the right one, meatier and stronger in appearance.  He cringes.  It looks so wrong.  Without hesitation, the pressure sensation migrates upwards and layers on and around the forearm, starting to blow it up.

Wyatt can only think of one thing to say: “What is happening to me!?”

He panics at the sight of his arm relentlessly growing with each passing second, condensing and contracting what he soon realizes to be his muscles.  Wyatt’s always been a lean-built person, rather slender, but judging by his arm, that will be changing fast.  His brow raises in confoundment as muscle mass quickly accumulates, thickening and bulging out from that limb as if forcing it through years of hard body work in seconds.  It’s not painful, but not comfortable, either, like a deep, deep massage.  The ridges that divide the muscles entrench themselves within his forearm, the clear musculature forming in his upper arm not long after.

The young man still adorns his work uniform, and as his upper arm swells, one of the short sleeves of his shirt strains against it, his bicep and tricep burning with raw strength and rapidly maturing with what feels like an instant series of workouts.  Then, his deltoid rounds out, further developing through this sudden increase in power.  Muscle doesn’t seem to be the only thing growing either; not long after, the ridges that divide his newly-defined muscles begin to fill up a bit.  A pudgy softness wraps around the raw strength, bits of fat circling his arm, giving it a smoothness that it wouldn’t possess if it had stayed purely muscular.

The sleeve that contains this arm is quick to fit to form, struggling to contain its widening diameter.  It doesn’t take long for Wyatt to pick up on this as a couple of rips pierce the air, a tear beginning to stretch on the shirt from above the bicep, slowly arcing around the sleeve.

“Uhhh-” Wyatt vocalizes, his mind trying to properly comprehend what’s going on.  Why is he buffing up!?  He can't help but shakily lift his currently unchanged right arm, curious, yet terrified at what’s now happening to his body.  Gently, he strokes the firm mix of muscle and fat his altered left arm has garnered.

Unfortunately, this triggers a similar pressure that emerges in the other hand, followed by that same sensation pouring forth from his left shoulder to his torso.  Helplessly absorbing these sudden feelings, he watches the fingers of his right hand pulsate, gradually bubbling as they too begin to thicken, becoming sausage-like.  The changes in this arm mostly mirror those in the other.  However, while his right sleeve fills out like the last, he is interrupted, rudely, by a queasy churning in his midsection.  Wyatt grimaces as his stomach gurgles ominously.  He feels sick.

“Oh no…”

Wyatt keels over, crunching onto his bed like someone’s dropped an anvil on him.  He rolls and writhes in discomfort, trying not to scream as yet another series of changes billows into his torso region.  In these excruciating moments, he doesn’t notice the fabric on the rest of his shirt tightening, starting to bulge around his entire upper body.

Wyatt’s body, for that matter, isn’t anything special.  To his credit, in spite of his inconsistent workout routine, he still maintains a good physique, lean and athletic.  His tall, toned frame of six-foot-one height and one-hundred and seventy-five pounds implies a healthy-enough lifestyle with plenty more room to grow.  That growth is happening right now.

As the pressure heats up in his torso, his chest pushes out, gaining definition and packing hard muscle and size onto his breast.  More and more, slowly but surely.

“Huff… huff…” Wyatt breathes heavily, almost panting as his newly hardened pec muscles squeeze up against his shirt, the developing cleavage cratering a canyon in the middle of the fabric.  This chiseled muscle quickly pads itself up, blimping beneath another soft layer of fat, adding some moob-ish qualities.  The two slabs of meat mound themselves larger, his nipples rounding out significantly, adjusting to the growth.  This all gives his chest a much cushier appearance than before.  He now carries much more power, the raw strength coursing around the tissue and fibers that call his chest home.

The bulk spills down from his boulder shoulders, and Wyatt can feel the back of his shirt rub up against his skin as the musculature behind him burgeons more each second.  He groans and lurches forward, gripping his bedsheets with vigor as the sensation of more power pulsates beneath the pressure, expanding his trapezius and broadening his back.  Such a mass increase between his back and front promptly causes the back of his shirt to start splitting open against his stronger dorsal build.  He squints his eyes and grits his teeth, feeling his bulking frame tear through his work top at the seams, exposing more sections of bare skin by the moment.

“Great… there goes my uniform…”

The constant, relentless heaviness invading the young man’s body wracks itself into his very skeletal structure.  An intrusive tugging sensation from both sides of his form causes his frame to widen fairly significantly.  Before he can fully notice this, another sharp pop surges in his spinal cord, quickly followed by a squeezing sensation.  Wyatt continues to grit his teeth, clenching his meaty mitts into tight fists as he rides the intense sensation compressing him downward.

Wyatt has always been a taller man; again, 6’1” in stature.  However, the intense buzzing and popping sensation tells him that his height might be changing as well.  Something seems to be squatting him down to a shorter height, shaving off inches, centimeters.  He’s getting shorter.

All the while, the queasy, bloating pressure from before continues building within his stomach.  This pressure soon turns into pain, and he groans again, clutching his abdomen and mustering whatever ugly noises he can to grind his way through this arduous process.

“Dude, guh…” Wyatt heaves, suppressing his nausea, beads of sweat dribbling on his forehead.  “Wh… what the hell did I do to deserve this?”

His abs sizzle as they define themselves, rippling forward and gaining definition like the rest of his muscles up to now.  One could possibly even see them indent the front of his shirt for a moment.  However, this is not entirely the cause of this bloated, blazing stomach ache. Shortly before Wyatt’s abs could fully finish their upgrade, the rest of his torso starts heaving itself forwards.  This stops Wyatt dead in his tracks.  He stares wide-eyed, breathing deeply and anxiously as the hem of his shirt rises slowly to reveal his swelling stomach, burying his abs underneath as if never even there.  Predictably, he is accumulating more fat.  His growing gut peeks out more and more below his shirt, becoming increasingly softer and rounder as the moments continue to drag.  The bottom of his increasingly ill-fitting worktop pushes up more and more, failing against the drastic changes of the expanding employee.

“Pop… pop pop… shrp… shrrrpp…”

Judging by the cacophony below him, he concludes that the side stitching of his shirt is now tearing against his increasing wideness, though he can’t even look out of fear that adjusting his position will cause more damage.  Yet, the discomfort grows too strong, and as Wyatt’s face reddens with strain, he is jolted by a loud SNAP, followed by instant relief.  A heavy sigh slides smoothly from his throat.  Once his shirt rises sufficiently, his gut hangs freely over the waistband of his jeans, still bubbling and gurgling with more weight, hiding his now broken belt from view.  He now must weigh at least over two-hundred pounds and counting.

Laying back on the bed, the distraught young man swallows a lump in his throat.  He shudders, some heat rushing to his cheeks, and with self-conscious curiosity, he slowly lifts up a changed hand and tenderly caresses his belly.  The corpulent mound of flesh pins him against the mattress like a weighted blanket.  Damn… it’s really warm.  He grabs a chunk of it with his thicker palms, the soft thickness convincingly filling his hand, widening his grip as it continues swelling with taut adipose.  By this point, his other arm has caught up in size to his left one, the man’s body having lost that awkward asymmetry it possessed at the start.

Now, though, his attention focuses more on the slight itching on his ball-shaped gut.  It tickles a bit, blanketing across the surface of his skin.  The heftier man fixates on the sight of an increasing amount of fuzz making its way across his fat tum.  A light, but noticeable spread of hair sprouts up and along his stomach; not too much, but enough to add an interesting new layer to his exploratory belly rub.  He can even feel an equal amount of itching on his chest, no doubt because it too is dusting with fuzz.

Despite the discomfort and lingering fear in his brain, Wyatt can't help but observe a sense of enjoyment, albeit a nervous one, at the sights and sensations of his much stockier build.  The mixture of warm fat and rippling strength makes the man feel a certain attraction to his own form that he isn't sure he’s felt in a long while. He huffs quietly as his head spins, face warming up again as the flustered transformee resists his willingness to admit, much less accept, such positive emotions with this change.

“Mm, s-so… fat…” is all he can utter.  Wyatt catches a slight tingle in his throat as the sentence ends.  That final word sounded different, slightly rougher than before, but his focus span only lasts so long in these emotionally heightened moments, even if those emotions in question aren’t all that bad.

Then, with zest, the pressure hits his legs.  His lower body buzzes with sensation and anticipation, and against his better judgment, he impulsively decides to stand up from his bed.  Bad timing.

“W- whoa!” he huffs, the transition causing him to wobble a bit due to his significantly thicker size and shifting center of gravity.  He waves his arms a bit to regain balance, feeling their new mass as it jiggles in tandem, though he secures himself and remains upright.  Standing, however, will soon prove itself difficult during this portion of the change anyway.  He shifts his gaze and bites his lip, finding the right vantage point to watch just how the lower half of his body would change.

The tugging at his sides rolls itself down to his hips, prompting Wyatt to rest his hands on them.  Within his hands, his hip bones snap and pop, becoming wider.  This would certainly hurt more if his belt hadn’t already shot off.  Even so, the man shifts his stance subtly, widening his base to maintain balance and avoid top-heaviness.  This new posture can’t help but feel more and more natural for him as the size of his lower body begins matching up with the top.

As Wyatt grasps his expanding hips, more overt physical changes cascade further downwards.  The upper half of his work pants starts to fill, and the skin surrounding his thighs steadily bloats towards the stiff insides of his legwear.  Beneath his skin, his muscles have, again, begun swelling up in size.  Hands fall from his hips to his knees as more burning permeates his quadriceps and hamstrings.  Wyatt’s enthralled eyes go wide again, locked onto his thighs bulging up and out in conjunction, their growth causing ridges to form in his skin that outline themselves pretty clearly.  These ridges indent his sweatpants for a few seconds before ultimately smoothing out, more fat filling in comfortably, hulking his upper legs.

Perhaps the most interesting portion of these changes is contained to the back of this region.  His rear.  Wyatt shudders.  He’s been anticipating this particular change; with the rest of his body growing out like it has, it’s only inevitable that his glutes would follow suit.  They do not disappoint, as a compressing surge throws Wyatt back forward onto his bed, the hopelessly flustered man leaning onto the mattress for support.  A soft vibrating and growing tightness tells him that his perfectly average rear has begun expanding dramatically.  His deep breaths grow louder, more visceral.  Overwhelmed by sensation, the man is left with no choice but to surrender to these more intimate portions of the shift.

“Gghhhhhh…” he grunts gruffly and heartily, his two lean cheeks bulking up into two thick, sturdy slabs of beef.  His face flushes crimson, his rapidly fattening ass bulging out larger and heavier against the seat of his pants.  His blush only deepens as he feels the back of his underwear fill out more and more, the fabric rubbing against his mounding, fleshy cheeks.  Even the waistband visibly weakens, tensing desperately around his increasingly obvious crack.  It’s just so much larger.

However, what really differentiates these changes is the individual pressure in each buttcheek, the fat within them continuing to gain, no end in sight.  His ass… it keeps swelling up and up, far larger than anything he had before, rounder as well.  This roundness gains quite some prominence as he continues to feel his butt bloat by the second.  He somehow holds down a moan as the soft warmth squishes itself firmly up against both his underwear and the seat of his ill-fitting work pants.  Even without the belt now, his pants are tight.  Really tight.

Naturally, Wyatt grows curious.  Too curious.  The man turns his head once again, trying to capture every moment of the change as possible.  It shocks him when he finally gets a good look, though it doesn’t exactly upset him.  It’s already gotten so thick.  Perhaps that shouldn't be too surprising, given that most of his entire body has bulked up as well.  He’s much fatter now.  His shocked expression softens a bit, and he even suppresses a smirk, his continued self-exploration accentuating the odd feeling of enjoyment he’s been trying to ignore…

…and yet, he can’t stop himself from putting a hand on his swelling rump and giving it a nice squeeze.  He doesn’t even think about it.  Wyatt catches himself blushing as he feels the growth beneath his very hand, layers of hefty mass filling out within his wide, firm palms.  A sense of bliss overtakes him, overriding his anxiety for just this moment, allowing him time and space to indulge in this incredible experience.

“N… ngh… damn…” Wyatt is ashamed to admit his undeniable attraction to the changes, but he just can’t help it.  It all just feels so good!  Luckily, now, it seems the pressure is subsiding, the changes presumably slowing, but it’s clear that his ass has garnered quite the bubbly attribute that it had not possessed before!  He finally readies to unhand his butt when…

Shrrrp!

This time, he fails to stifle his moan, and a deep, gruffer-sounding voice bellows from within.  The familiar shredding sound informs him that his work pants are likely no more.  His entire uniform has officially surrendered, though really, it never stood a chance.  Ironically, Wyatt cares far less at this point, though another deep blush returns to his face as he feels the air conditioning breeze along his now-exposed rear, as well as some other open areas where the seams in his clothing have torn.  Before he knows it, his hands lift back up, each one grabbing hold of a brawny chunk of bare ass meat underneath his briefs.  He feels the heavy flab bunch up in his grip, soft and thick, the bulbous butt cheeks bristling with some more light fuzz that sprouts softly along the top.  He purrs deeply and lovingly under his breath.  Wow…

“I-I p-probably should've… mmff…” he averts his gaze from his butt, fully embarrassed, as if all hypothetical eyes are somehow on him.  There’s no denying it anymore, no denying that display, that very chain of events turning him into the stocky hunk he’s becoming.

Wyatt just lets out a defeated sigh before he finally accepts it. “I really am enjoying this, aren't I!?”

Wait.  That voice… It sounds familiar.  He’s not sure though; maybe it’ll come to him.

At this point, the chunky brawn he’s gained is just impossible not to love.  He relishes the feeling of this raw strength and size coursing through his form beneath the warm layers of soft, malleable fat.  Such a stark contrast to how he used to look, and he knows that the pure suddenness of gaining such a form is something he should probably fear.  He certainly did at the outset.  At the same time, though, he truly can’t suppress his burgeoning love for gaining this wonderful body type.  It just feels so good!

“...I should really get to a mirror,” Wyatt mutters to himself, twinging a bit at the tone.  He swears his voice seems to deepen with each sentence he speaks.  Deeper, lower, huskier.  The faintest hints of a nasal brashness have been forming as well, as if his voice continuously teeters the border between maintaining its original sound and changing entirely to something brand new, divorcing itself from the bright, youthful tone he carried before.  Again, too, he can’t shake the fact that he’s sounding ever so familiar.

For the time being, though, it’s not something he puts too much focus on.  He still needs to get a real look at himself.  The man pushes himself up from the bed and steps forward, hauling himself to the bathroom that’s connected to his bedroom.  His running is still a bit wobbly, Wyatt still not fully used to his weighty form, each step landing heavier on the floor than he’s used to.  This is not to mention that his legs are still finishing up their changes.  The constant pressure beating in his bones doesn’t make movement an easy task, and amidst the shuffle, he can just barely see his height continuing to alter with his own eyes thanks to just how many more inches subtract off of him.  Although it isn't exactly the largest reduction in height, it still feels sizable since, even though he can't calculate it himself, he feels he’s dropped down by about half a foot.  Things just feel a little taller than before, like his new self would definitely be looking up at his old one.  

There’s also the swelling within his calves as the crura of his legs grow as well.  Calves, ankles, all within his lower legs, thickening like everything else.  Again, this just means movement while transforming is a challenging endeavor.

Still, he finally manages his way into the bathroom, instinctually shutting the door and locking it before turning on the light.  He heads towards the mirror as the familiar buzzing starts to permeate his skull.  He looks down at his belly in front of him, wobbling a bit with each step, until he reaches the sink.  Reluctantly, he lifts his aching head, and his jaw drops at what greets him in his reflection.

A wave of reactions and emotions swerves through his brain as Wyatt officially gets a good look at his changed form.  Everything starts sinking in, and despite his initial concern, he can’t help but chuckle.  It is rather humorous to see his relatively unchanged head on such a big, stocky body.  This perspective is odd.  However, that doesn't stop him from lifting one of his arms into a good flex, just to see how strong it looks.  The biceps and brachioradialis contract themselves into a pronounced peak, showcasing his solid, bulking strength.

“Eheh, lookin’ good…” he compliments himself, a newfound sense of confidence warming his soul.

It isn’t long until another sensory interruption, this time in his shoes.  Alerted to this new constriction, Wyatt decides to kick off his footwear before they could explode from his growing pair of feet.  This already proves rather challenging, seeing as his foot size has already increased a fair amount. Both feet predictably grew larger, thicker, and meatier than they had used to be, and this negates the idea of “kicking” off his shoes.  They’re getting stuck.

“C’mon… hrfff…” he digs his fingers between the heels of his shoes, and luckily, he finds just enough strength to pry them off with minimal damage.

His socks aren’t so lucky though.  He can only watch as the cotton easily stretches around his expanding feet, his toes chunking up a bit, twitching and popping beneath the fabric.  This fascinates him, and as he continues to hold one of his feet, some holes start to pop and stretch across the material of his stockings.  Tiny bursts of material snap as each thick toe busts out the front end of each sock, his heels even tearing apart parts of the back end, as well.  A few tears also stretched across the bridge of his feet, growing them much larger than before.  Longer, wider, at least 12 inches, a true foot, maybe even more.  This also gives Wyatt a glance at the slight increase in hair in these areas, flecks of fuzz blanketing the tops.  He now owns a pair of two truly big feet.

That's when he notices that the color of that on his feet hair seems a bit off.  Come to think of it, the color of his belly hair looks a bit different as well.  Wyatt has always had auburn hair; not entirely red, but his numerous freckles certainly cement his status as a ginger.  Even his body hair possesses a brownish-red tone to it, though as he observes in this moment, he interprets a lighter coloration of almost reddish-brown instead, just different enough to pique his interest.

“Eh…?  O- OH!”

The ache in his head pounds back in full force.  Entranced by the mirror, Wyatt is completely jarred at the sight before him, the sight of his face starting to physically remold itself.  A slight, albeit surprisingly painless, crack rattles his skull as his jaw juts out slightly, beginning to bolster.  It seems to be broadening, restructuring from round and spherical into a distinct lantern shape, more like a widened triangle.  In response, a descension of weight droops from beneath his wider jaw, a swelling of submental fat that steadily forms into a double chin.  He watches silently, in awe, lifting a mitt to his thickening neck, feeling new indentations of fat surround his fingers, a subtle series of clicks still gradually expanding his visage.  All the while, the man feels his vocal cords tingle as the internal workings of his throat shift at an even quicker rate, his steady huffing and puffing of breath now sounding completely foreign to him.

Of course, the rest of his face has begun changing, as well.  His entire skull crunches in and around itself, shifting bit by bit to fit in proportion with his new body, all while his various facial features remold themselves before his very eyes.  He continues to stare, entranced by the way his eyes reposition a bit, the browline pushing forward while his faded-looking eyebrows darken, becoming much sharper and more angular.

His nose cracks repeatedly before broadening out, getting rather large.  It feels like a steadily growing sneeze that never quite works its way out, his sinuses tingling as his nose widens, popping out from a fairly average nose into quite the bold schnozz.  Parts of his face almost seem to squash themselves inwards, though his features remain firm and prominently defined, more masculine in appearance.  The larger nose coupled with the almost piercing gaze his eyes seem to possess now gives his face a more brutish appearance, one that actually intimidates Wyatt while looking at it.  His bone structure thickens, and his cheeks chub up, puffing rounder and glistening with sweat as his head enlarges overall.  A look of astonishment plasters his transforming face.  He still can’t believe what he’s watching.

This disbelief further accentuates once the changes in his hair occur, another itching sensation scratching itself across his face, similar to his stomach and chest.  Wyatt keeps an on-and-off beard, but he had shaved earlier that day before his shift (work shift).  This clean shave doesn’t last for long, his chin tingling and darkening with scruffy fuzz.  More reddish-brown follicles sprout like tiny blades of grass across the lower portion of his jawline, slightly centralizing at the middle of his chin before expanding a little bit across the ends of it.  He wiggles his widening mouth in response, tucking his lips together as he strokes the sizable amount of new chin stubble with his thumb.

However, while his facial hair grows out, his already-short head hair tightens itself up.  While one hand cups his chin, the other holds the side of his crown, each strand of hair sliding between his fingers as it pulls back into his head.  Wyatt chuckles a bit; he recently outgrew a buzz cut, but it seems to be returning in full force, at least on the sides.  As the same red hue brightens the auburn of his hair, the top tugs itself upwards, spiking and thickening, forcing itself into a crew cut.  In truth this new hairstyle seems almost uniformly militaristic in appearance, the sides neat and tight to his head, along with a faux-hawk like trim on top, reddish-orange in color, almost a little rusty.

It’s at this moment that something finally clicks for Wyatt.

“Wait…” he drawls, narrowing his eyes at his reflection (and somehow still intimidating himself, provoking another blush).  His irises and pupils narrow, his gaze somehow even more piercing than before.  Even the color of his eyes alter, washing Wyatt’s former green color out with a deep blue.  He also takes note of what seems to be hints of aging in his form.  Nothing too drastic, but the beginnings of wrinkles at the ends of his eyes etch themselves in, as well as around his mouth and along his forehead.  This strange rush of new wisdom and experience seamlessly permeates his psyche, and he knows that, to some degree, his very age is shifting, if only subtly.  A warm, nostalgic buzzing in his brain informs him he has left young adulthood behind, now more properly an adult that hovers around his late twenties or early thirties instead of his early twenties.

By now, it’s clear as day who he has become, and given the physical and mental torrent he’d just experienced, he can’t say he’s disappointed in the outcome.  The suspicion on his face relaxes into a smirk of fond realization as he finally recognizes himself.

“Yeah… there he is.”

Heymans Breda.

How hadn't he figured as much until now?!  Well, maybe because he doesn't physically exhibit the anime art style to connect everything to, but still!  Breda is one of his favorite characters from Fullmetal Alchemist, and now he’s actually become him physically?  Why?  For what?  He continues to ponder his reflection, wiping more sweat from his furrowed brow.  Eventually, his naturally intimidating demeanor gives way to a big, goofy grin.

“Guess that explains the chess piece, too!” Wyatt jests.  His heart jumps at the sound of his voice, which has finally settled into Breda’s deep, brash, and hearty tone.  He can't help but laugh, reveling at the sound of it reverberating through his ears, which shift only slightly, a little further downward.

He then realizes something else.  In the midst of his discovery, his damaged clothing loosens, the rips and tears from his sudden growth starting to mend themselves.  Moving his gaze downward, he finds the size of his tattered shirt expanding a bit, the constriction from his hefty body fading away as his shifting garment properly fits itself to his new proportions, all while fading from pale gray to a deep navy blue.  For a bit, he is granted a proper look at his broad, fuzzy chest as the shirt splits further down the middle, the hem dipping down a bit before ending below his waist, flowing down to around his knees.  The deep blue continues across the shirt as a silvery color lines the edges along with bits of gold weaving onto the shoulders.  His collar rises further up from the neck, and a single lapel extends out and folds along the leftward side of the split.  On the right, he feels something small slide along the top of his pec, a silver ring hooking around a small blue clasp in his shirt, adorned with a single golden tassel that snakes up to his shoulder.  His short sleeves then proceeded to extend downwards to each of his wrists, his larger forearms accentuated by the form-fitting fabric.

Wyatt chuckles again as he watches the miscellaneous military adornments decorate his new uniform, although his gaze quickly drifts back to his chest.  Again, he can't help but feel himself up, give one of his pecs a nice squeeze. 

“Heh, that’s really good now…”

Knock-knock-knock.

The door?  The door!

“Damn-” he shudders, snapping out of his spell and unclasping his chest.  As he looks towards the door, a white shirt spontaneously manifests beneath his new jacket, splitting off from the former and becoming its own separate piece of clothing.

“Just a sec, sorry!” he pleads, the soft cotton of his new undershirt hugging his gut as he scrambles to answer whoever’s on the other side.

Wait… he lives alone. Why would-

“I'm just here to remind you of our strategy meeting,” a voice calls from behind the wall.  “We’ll confer in 15 minutes.”

Whoa.  Wyatt knows that voice all too well.  No way… Colonel Roy Mustang.  The Flame Alchemist.  His commander.

Commander?!  Except Wyatt’s not in the army!  He knows that!  Or at least he… he thought…

The man just looks down at himself, frozen dumb, watching the same blue overtake his work pants.  They mend themselves like his jacket, morphing into the same fine material, fitting around his tree-trunk legs.  Even his snapped belt repairs itself, turning from black to silver, almost metal in appearance, part of it dropping and hanging below.

“Breda?”

“Gah!”  Caught off-guard again, Wydatt completely forgets Mustang outside the door.  “Sorry sir!  I'm just, uh… getting changed!”

A momentary pause.  Great.  He’s probably pissed now.  Wonderful first impression.

“Pay no mind.  See you shortly.”

With that, the sound of footsteps fades down what sounds like a much larger space on the other side of the door, the material of the floor sounding harder, almost marble-like.  Wrydatt pauses and processes for a moment.

“Crap-” he utters beneath his breath.  He hastily slides on the sleek black boots that his shoes have somehow morphed into, though not all of the previous tears in his socks sew themselves back up.  Perhaps Breda simply needs a new pair of socks to begin with.

“GAH, CRAP!” Wryda yelps, clutching the back of his head.  He squints with grit, that buzz in his brain from earlier only getting stronger, immutable to his resistance.

Something’s shifting again, something in his mind.  That strange feeling of militaristic desire wells up in him again, the same one he felt when his comman- when Mustang spoke to him from behind the door.  The fact that Mustang is there, talking to him.  The fact that he saw that man as his leader, at least in that moment.  No… the fact that he still can't help from viewing him as such, from feeling anything otherwise.  This is a fact.

“This is crazy… I-I'm really becoming him??” is all he can utter.  The name… W- Wre… no- Wyatt, right… ugh, it feels weird at this point, and the only thing weirder than that is the part of him that still remains acutely aware of everything happening.  This part of Brydatt knows that the more he utters his new na- no, the more he utters Breda’s name, the more that connection will only solidify, cementing him into this new life he’s suddenly grown into.

Fatigued and confused, he moans weakly as the unrelenting headache rattles through his brain once more.  This one feels different though, and every fiber in his being hopes that this is the last.  He meets his reflection’s gaze for a moment, then another flashing throb within his skull sinks him to his knees.

It’s cathartic.  Memories upon memories, increasing desires, familiar and new, a complete reshuffle of his personality.  So many things Wreda just cannot stop from gushing their way into his redefining system, rewiring his neural pathways.  Does he even want this to stop?

His new identity rewrites more and more brain chemistry, and the last shreds of his resistance finally give way, the battle long lost.  An all-encompassing shift in his personality gives the formerly mild-mannered man a tough and gruff thought pattern, a sense of savvy pragmatism he’s certain he’d never possessed before.  He feels intellectually sharp, much sharper than before, though maintains a down-to-earth aspect to his demeanor.  He’s well-aware that his wisdom, experience, and skill in wartime strategy often surprises those who doubt his ability based on appearance alone, and he’s more than happy to use this to his advantage.  He did graduate top of his class at the academy, after all.

Finally, his heart swells, beating warmly, overwhelmed with a sense of duty, dedication, and unwavering loyalty.  He embraces a steadfast commitment to protect Colonel Mustang and the rest of his team, his family, from the tyranny of Fuhrer Bradley and the Homunculi.  He’ll do whatever he can to save his world, anything to support the Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric, and his brother, Alphonse, in their life-or-death mission to save themselves and bring lasting peace to Amestris.  To everything and everyone he loves.

Everyone.  All the memories return, all the relationships.  Mustang, Edward, Alphonse, Hawkeye, Hughes, Fuery, Falman, Havoc!  Havoc… he hopes that jerk is doing alright.

Despite this drastic character shift, Wreda- wait, Wyatt!  Right… despite this, Wyatt certainly still exists, in some capacity.  His old identity persists in the background, unbothered, entirely aware of what happened.  In truth, he’s just glad he doesn’t have to go back to his old job, or at least he infers such.  His remaining memories and personality fragments coexist with those of the person he’s just become, living symbiotically with each other.  Now, even if he identifies indubitably more with Breda than he does with Wyatt, they’re both there, the latter able to witness and enjoy the experience of being him, even if that means forgetting his old name every so often.

“Ugh, my head…” Breda mutters as he idly rubs the buzzed temples below his crew cut.

In spite of his exhaustion, Breda feels a swelling sense of pride in his core.  It does feel nice to have a more concrete purpose to his life, a job that he knows will truly help people in ways he can only imagine.  He gazes once more at his reflection, his expression softening, smiling with a gentle warmth.  The self-intimidation from earlier melts away, the decorated lieutenant playfully patting his gut and giggling like a giant teddy bear.  He turns around and examines his backside, his hips and rear perfectly shaping out that part of his uniform.  His grin grows wider, coupled with a nervous blush.

“Heh… not bad.” Breda admits, allowing his confidence to shine through, sneaking in a gratuitous flex.  It feels… refreshing?  Invigorating?  Hopeful.  Something like that.

With one more chuckle, Breda turns to the door, preparing to meet Mustang and his team at their strategy meeting.  The Rook is unsure of what awaits him on the other side; he never really can be at this point, given the state of affairs in his suffering nation.  He presses his uniform neatly, brushing off some dust and adjusting the finer details before he walks out.

The next day, the next moment, is never guaranteed.  He knows this.

He also knows his orders.  He’s followed them up to now, and it’s kept him alive so far.  He knows the alternative to what’s happening; he knows it too well.  More than anything, however, he knows that he has faith in his allies and each of their individual skill sets.  If he stays the course like he has up to now and relies on his team to do the same, then that’s all he can do.

With a deep, reassuring breath, he opens the door of his former bathroom and steps out into the regal halls of headquarters.  Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda, reporting for duty.

[tierra-paldeana]

☠🌏– She can't blame him for being curious - if anything, it was a guarantee that most people did wonder about her past, since she barely brought it up in conversation except for the more 'normal' anecdotes here and there. This made her rather mysterious and attractive to people, something she was very aware of... but so far, not even her closest coworkers or even her favorite trainer knew much about it. This... was a risky move.

But one she was willing to take, because it was Grusha. Someone she respected, admired and... cherished. More than he could imagine...

She thus nods, her expression one of understanding. She looks down at Clodsire again, who now had his eyes closed in relaxation as he relishes in the feel of her gloved hand on his head, before chuckling.

''Yeah, he is.''

There she goes...

''When I was a kid... say, five, six years old, I'd go to this swamp-like area near my house all on my own. I found it by pure chance, looked super secluded 'cause all Pokémon there acted super surprised t'see a human when they first saw me, heh. And... I was always... fascinated by this pond of Clodsire n' Wooper that lived there. They weren't afraid of me, n' I'd spend hours upon hours runnin' around and playin' with the pups. One of 'em was this lil' guy over here.''

She smiles, reminiscing, as Clodsire nuzzles her hand. But her smile slowly weakens as she looks down into her mug. The sweet brown brings back the wet mud to her mind.

''The reason why I wandered off that first day... My... ''parents'' had seemingly left me locked outside by accident, n' they weren't at home... or so I thought. So I jus' got bored n' walked away for several hours. At first I didn't think much of it, but...''

She takes a pause. The wind outside, albeit briefly, seems to howl quite aggressively.

''...To make a long story short, they were horrible people. I can't remember a lot 'bout them, but... they hated each other about as much as they hated me. Always leavin' me alone to fend for myself, lookin' at me with disgust n' indifference, arguin' n' screamin' at each other, lockin' me outside, leavin' for days, talkin' shit 'bout me behind my back n' sayin' I was the reason their marriage was a lost cause...''

Although her tone doesn't falter for now, the hand holding the mug seems to start to tremble a little, so she leaves it for the time being on the short table in front of her. As liberating as talking about these things was, she couldn't deny how much it hurt to take a look back and remember the fury as well as apathy in the eyes of the people that were supposed to care for her...

''...Durin' that time, I was goin' to an elementary school in the South which no longer exists, n' for good reason. It was a rather... dodgy place. It was constantly a mess, n' both teachers n' alumni were problematic to say the least. The good ol' Rika ya see here is quite different from the one back then, I was a real rascal, heheh. N' because I was never given any proper supervision... I jus' did whatever I pleased. It's not like anyone would care, 'fter all.''

''One day... I finally realized that. That nothin' mattered, that my parents didn't love me, that I was... alone in the world. N' so, I ran back to the pond I always had fun in, n'... cried by the shore. I was lonely, I was hungry, I was hurt, n' I felt... hopeless. Useless... worthless.''

Her lips tremble a little, and her eyes get glossy as she once more looks down at Clodsire, who looks back at her tenderly. She blinks away the tears as best she can. God damn it Rika, you're not even halfway done tellin' him n' yer already about to cry...?!

''But... hahah, w- wouldn't ya know it, he n' his siblings... they all saw this lil' girl cryin' at their home, woke everyone up n'... Clodsire and Wooper alike started bringin' me tasty berries, comfortin' me n' even lettin' me sleep among them. That... that was the first time I ever felt... s-so loved.''

As she lets Grusha process what she's said so far, she takes a minute to compose herself, finding comfort in Clodsire's nuzzles. It'd be... very uncool if she just started crying right there, after all.

⠀so he was just being paranoid, then.⠀that gets him to relax as if he's stiffened up on reflex, sighing a held breath;⠀people prodding into his business would've happened for sure by now, but rika was anything but a regular, nosy, frankly insensitive person.

⠀“ oh . . .⠀okay. ”⠀he pauses for a sip of his coffee, brief punctuation before he speaks again,⠀“ I've been curious about you, actually. ”

⠀and that was putting it mildly.⠀here was arguably the most popular elite four member of the region in his living room, and yet—⠀what did he know about her?⠀where did she come from, what was she like years ago, before the league wormed its way into their lives?

⠀hard to deny with such little knowledge about her to go off of, his mind wandered on nights where she just couldn't get out of his head.⠀those seemed to be happening every night, lately.

⠀his thumb rubs over the cubchoo decal printed onto his mug, staring off to the darkened window, simply listening to her talk.⠀saying such personal things like that, how she trusts him and seemingly few else . . .

⠀it would've made his heart race on the average day, face reddening and tongue forgetting every paldean word he knew.

⠀but today, when he looks back at her, watches the glow of his fireplace dance in her eyes, it just feels . . .

⠀right.

⠀“ clodsire was your . . .⠀first pokémon, yeah? ”

⠀and wherever she trails him to in this conversation, he'll simply let her take the reins.⠀it'd be best.

[kurtoooons]

Day 3

It’s 4:16 am. I can’t sleep. Time moves so much more differently than it does back in Proxima. It’s probably midday there right now. Is this what proper homesickness is like?

I can’t even see anything in my room now. I have a lamp, but I’d have to get up to turn it on. Our rooms don’t have light switches, either.

The bed is nice, but I can’t exactly rate it higher than my bed back home.

The room is awfully cold, too. I think there’s a heating system, but they sure as shit haven’t told me about it. I tried to feel around for electric currents in the room’s walls, but I can’t seem to do anything to manipulate them.

This pad’s light is starting to burn my eyes, so I might as well try to sleep again.

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

Fucking hell. There seems to be a built-in alarm clock in this room. It’s been bothering me for the past five minutes now.

Interesting. It stopped as soon as I got out of bed.

Right now, it’s 7:07 am.

I’ll log off for now. Need to get my uniform and the stuff I got yesterday ready.

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

There’s a bathroom down the hallway from my room, and yeah. The shower was cold.

Nothing else to add; I’ll probably log back on after the briefing at 8:30.

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

Lunchtime — currently 12:34.

We didn’t really do much at the briefing, but I did get to meet the other Espers here. There’s six of us in total: me, Mary, Tybalt, Aurelia, Jackilynn and Aldrick. We also got to demonstrate what we could do with our powers to our administrator. She calls herself Doctor Pershing. As expected, they’re all further ahead in power than I am. Jealous? Nope, not at all.

Tybalt Moor is a gentle enough dude. I can see getting along with him. Also nineteen, like me. He’s a telekinetic and for the demonstration, he dismantled a standard-issue rifle in sixteen seconds. Down to the last bolt. In sixteen fucking seconds!

Aurelia Morningstar’s default attitude is always either sarcastic or passive-aggressive. Not once has she said anything without that smug smile and devilish look on her face. This girl can control the temperature around her. Explains why she’s a stone-cold bitch.

Jackilynn Ornett is this cute, brunette girl. She looks like a typical nerd — glasses and all. By manipulating the air, she demonstrated that by only snapping her fingers, she can shoot out a guest of air that dented a 6 inch plate of metal.

Aldrick Vega is a quiet dude. Like super quiet. I don’t even think this man’s spoken a single word in his life. Pretty sure he just nodded when we were on roll-call. Anyway, he can bend the light around him. He can make himself invisible or can even blind you if you try to talk to him.

And then there’s Mary Parabella: the girl I met yesterday. There’s something going on with her. I guess she did tell me that she wasn’t allowed to share what she could do. She seems fine enough as a person, but maybe I just really want to know what’s behind that all-too-friendly smile.

Anyway, lunch is decent enough. A meat and vegetable soup with this white grain they call “rice.” I haven’t seen these back home, so these must be from another planet.

I’ll log back in in the afternoon after more briefings.

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

Holy fuuuuck.

Dr. Pershing told us that afternoons would consist of body workouts and weapons training.

And work out we did. I can barely fucking type. I haven’t exercised a muscle since my second year in high school. My legs are twitching and my arms feel a thousand pounds heavier.

Weapons training wasn’t as bad. We only went over how guns work and what martial arts style we’ll be taught.

Anyway, I’ll just be in my bed. It’s only around 4 pm, I think. I’ll try and rest right now and see where that goes.

[ponds-of-ink]

I posted 1,204 times in 2022

861 posts created (72%)

343 posts reblogged (28%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@calcium-cat

@rowan-m-ravenwood

@ponds-of-ink

@burnt-basement-bunny

@partnersatfazbear

I tagged 1,204 of my posts in 2022

#william afton - 267 posts

#reblog - 223 posts

#pond chatters - 157 posts

#fnaf security breach - 137 posts

#scraptrap - 88 posts

#fnaf fandom - 69 posts

#five nights - 67 posts

#glitchtrap - 59 posts

#springtrap - 50 posts

#fnaf 6 - 46 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#(but also something to consider as a “bad ending” for whole scraptrap trying to be a better dad thing i’ve got as a running gag concept)

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Considering the animatronics in SL thought Michael was William at one point…

That must mean “I know it was an accident” was referring to Liz getting scooped. And “Isn’t this why you came here? To be with me/her again?” was a guilt trip lure for William, not Michael. Ennard was using lines that could cloud William’s judgment, if things were different.

It could have worked for Michael, if he probably wasn’t trying to figure out what in the world happened in this place. I can actually see him processing things while trying to keep them at bay. Absolutely confused as to what “Liz” is referring to, since she might’ve been too young/wasn’t there during the Bite of ‘83. Then it hits him.

His father wasn’t innocent when it came to robotic accidents either.

122 notes - Posted February 8, 2022

#4

Quick OSD… Trashpost?… Storyboard: “Brother Knows Best”

This is inspired by a series of posts by @calcium-cat and friends about the Nightmare and Dream bros unintentionally recreating the plot beats of Disney’s Tangled.

With the last of my braincells, I contribute this to the OSD fandom. Enjoy.

124 notes - Posted March 18, 2022

#3

Henry and Will trying to come up with Fredbear and Friends stuff probably was like…

Henry: So, what do we do for a Winter episode?

William: Well, bears hibernate, right?

Henry, shrugging: Sure.

William: But rabbits don’t.

Henry: That’s what you told me, Mr. Bunny Expert.

William: I know that, you know that… But does Spring-Bonnie?

Henry: …Where are you going with this, Will?

William: Spring-Bonnie tries to hibernate because of Fredbear going away for the season.

Henry, while facts rush through his head: I can’t tell if that‘s the most genius idea you’ve ever had or the stupidest.

126 notes - Posted January 18, 2022

#2

William Afton knowing some ‘80s slang but refusing to say it is the funniest headcanon to me. Like, he’s proper and calm most of the time, trying to either save his voice or remain ominous. Then, when he gets lost in the vents as Scraptrap, six words come roaring through the entire maze:

“OH, GAG ME WITH A SPOON!”

Needless to say, everyone else is stunned. Especially Michael, since I’m pretty sure he was raised on not using many of those phrases.

324 notes - Posted April 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I wanna sleep, but I can’t. find. a specific PM Seymour. Late Night Tumblr Clip.

It’s been like this for two days now (I think). I even know how it even goes and (maybe) the post read right before it. The only thing that’s stopping me is not remembering the title of the video.

452 notes - Posted October 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

For everyone who wants to hug Wayne Munson // gn!reader // you're dating Eddie & friendly with his bestest uncle💖

Imagine waking up at four or five in the morning so that you have plenty of time to cook Eddie and Wayne some PROPER food. You're up so early so that Wayne will be able to walk in to a hot meal, and some others already cooled and away in the freezer and fridge.

Eddie wakes up to an empty bed at around six (he can't sleep without you) and walks in to a chaotic kitchen; you, wearing your pyjamas, with multiple pots and pans on the go, some dirty dishes in the sink, some stuff on the draining board, some food already out in containers, cooling. You have a cool and level head and Eddie doesn't dare disturb you. He doesn't know what you're doing, so he just grabs some coffee and sits down on the one stool at the counter to watch you.

A half hour ticks passed before you turn off the hob, stepping back to see what needs to be done. You drain water from some pots, scoop sauces and meats out from others, portions things out in containers... Eddie's getting dizzy just watching you and he marvels at what you're doing (in reality, you only have three or four pots on the go, but you're picking them up, putting them down, swanning over here, grabbing this thing from here, and he can't keep track of you).

When you're all done and there are twelve some containers stacked on the side, Eddie comes up behind you and wraps his arm around your waist, kissing you good morning and snuggling into your neck. "What - is all this, babe? How long have you been up?"

"Got up at four. Wanted to cook you and Wayne some meals so you didn't have to have microwaved stuff all the time. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I just - "

Eddie leaves your embrace and you think you've done something wrong but then hands are on you and lips are kissing yours and you melt into each other. "You are something else, Y/N." The reverence in Eddie's voice matches the stars in his eyes as he pulls away from you. "Talk to me," He makes a vague hand gesture towards the food, and you list out all the dishes you made him and his uncle.

"I made enough for four days' meals for the two of you, if you both eat one three times a day. Or you could freeze some." You shrugged. "I don't know, I just... want you to be happy, safe and healthy."

Eddie does his best to help you with the washing, drying and putting away, and by the time seven rolls around and Wayne strolls in home, you and Eddie are mostly done and just about to divide the food between the fridge and the freezer.

Wayne stops and you can almost track his thought process by the way he takes in the food, looks at you, looks at Eddie, looks at the sink, and sighs heavily. "What're you kids up to?"

Eddie shook his head, curls flying like lightning. "Nope, nope, this is aaaaall Y/N! Been up since four this morning making us," he gestured between himself and Wayne with a finger, "food for the next four days." His voice has an upwards lilt as he draws out the 'four', thinking on his feet. "Wants us happy."

Wayne freezes.

His eyes land on you for long enough that you grow to be slightly uncomfortable. You can't read his gaze, the set of his jaw, the way his thumb and forefinger rub together.

Finally, when you can't take it anymore. "Uhh, Eddie...?" I think I broke your uncle.

Eddie chuckles, grabs your hand and squeezes it. "Give him a second, sweetheart."

His boy's voice shakes him out of his reverie and Wayne holds his arms out to you, "Thanks for taking care o'my boy an' me. Dunno where we'd be without ya'."

You can almost hear Eddie's smile, flushing at being called Wayne's son, and you step forward, accepting the embrace. You squeeze your arms around the red and blue plaid shirt and Wayne ducks his head, leaning into the hug with you. He's warm, smells of the plant he works in, and you can feel his exhaustion. A few moments tick past, long enough for Eddie to come forward and rest his head against Wayne's shoulder in a half-hug (and the hand that was on your back moves to ruffle Eddie's hair), and the phrase, welcome to the family crosses your mind.

[flyingraijin]

So My Darling | R. Soul

Summary: You're not a bad person. You're really not. But being with you is a bad thing, at least for Rody.

So why can't he stop coming when you call?

Pairing: Rody Soul x AFAB!reader

Warnings: Swearing, illegal activities, bad decisions, angst, mentions of death, established situationship, a disgusting cliff hanger, casual-not-casual sex, vaginal fingering, mutual masturbation, multiple orgasms, soft smut, all characters are 18+

Word Count: 11.5k

Available on AO3 here

Note: Finally, I wrote something for Rody. It ended up a lot different to how I planned it out at the start but I'm happy with it.

This hasn't been edited so please bare with me. I'll fix it up sometime in the next few days.

It's raining when Rody finally reaches the meeting spot. The sky is dark, churning with thunderclouds that pelt the streets below with raindrops like they've got some kind of vengeance. He doesn't bother with an umbrella though and just pulls the collar of his coat up against the cold. His hands remain buried deep in his pockets as the heels of his shoes click against the wet pavement, his head hung low as his hair drips. 

He doesn't want to be here. He never wants to come, not a single time before has he thought it was a good idea. Especially now, when his life is finally where he wants it to be. He's just turned twenty-one, he's gotten himself a proper job - a good job - at one of the local aerial mechanics. He's making good money, he's got an apartment now, big enough for him and his siblings to live comfortably. He can even afford to send Roro and Lala to a good school. He has everything he's ever wanted and everything he needs. 

And yet, for some ungodly reason, he continues to risk all of it. Over and over again, each time he gets the call. He doesn't want to go. But he does anyway, each and every time. He puts his siblings to sleep, makes sure all the doors and windows in the apartment are locked uptight. And then he sneaks off into the darkness to a different part of the city each time, with guilt burning like acid in his gut. 

Technically, he's not doing anything wrong. He's clean, he has been since the whole incident years ago. He’s an "honest man" now. But he's not sure that'll matter if he's ever found out. Not with his track record and not with the person he continues to meet with. 

Because while he's not a criminal anymore, you are. A wanted criminal, who's stuck deep in much darker things he'd ever gotten involved in. And each time he accepts your invitation and goes to you, he's putting his life as he knows it on the line. Mere association with you is enough to get him locked up and if they ever found out your actual relations with him… 

Well, it's safe to say that he doubts he'd ever be a free man again. 

You're not a bad person. That's what he reminds himself as he ducks into the alleyway that you’d named tonight's meeting place. You're not a bad person. In fact, you're a very good person. You were just involved in the wrong things at the wrong time and now you’re stuck for good.

It's not like it's your fault either. Your situation was similar to how his was, five or six years ago. In fact, he's sure you're a reflection of what he might've ended up as had he not had a helping hand to pull him out. You hadn't had that hand - something which always makes him a little sick to his stomach because really, it should have been him who provided it - and now you're too far gone. Trapped in the dark underworld of Otheon, surrounded by people most would be terrified to speak the names of, and doing things he doesn't even want to think about. 

You’re not waiting for him when he arrives at the allocated spot and so he has some time to lean against the rain-slicked wall and think. Maybe that's why he keeps coming when you call him, he wonders briefly as his eyes rove over the narrow alleyway you've chosen. It's cramped and very dark and smells like stale food. Not really the ideal spot but he supposes you can't be picky. 

Maybe he keeps coming because he knows he's your last little piece of hope. He gets to be your break from the reality that you live, a slice of daydream in an otherwise nightmare of a life. He knows that he means a lot to you because you're undoubtedly risking even more than he is to meet with him. And despite the fact that it's not a good idea and it never has been, he can't seem to let you go. 

A slight creak from above is what startles him from his thoughts. He raises his head towards the thundering sky, squinting a little as raindrops hit his face. At first, there's nothing, but then a flash of movement catches his eyes. A grimy window set into the side of the building that he's facing is being hauled up. There's no light within the room beyond but the window itself is low enough for him to see properly, only on the second floor. He recognises your face immediately when it opens completely, your familiar outline the faintest silhouette against the darkness behind you. 

"Up here," you hiss down to him, beckoning with one hand. "C'mon." 

Pino, who's been taking shelter within the collar of his coat, springs to life at the sight of you. She chirps happily, her small wings fluffing for a second before she takes flight. Both you and Rody watch in silence as she zooms towards you, dodging raindrops as she goes, before you hold your hands out, giving her a place to alight herself. And then both you and her turn to look back down at Rody.

He sighs. But despite his hesitation, he already knows what he's going to do. No matter how much his head says he should turn around and he should go back home to Roro and Lala and make their food for their school lunches tomorrow and do his remaining paperwork, his heart… 

Well, you've already got his heart in your hand. And he can't fight it even if he wants to. 

It doesn't take him long to climb up to your window. His old instincts are still strong, ingrained in his subconscious from when he used to jump from rooftop to rooftop as a teenager. He hauls himself up by the fire escape with ease and then saunters along a ledge that juts from the side of the building until he's reached you. You duck back inside the window when he does and he's free to slip his lythe body through the opening after you, taking a moment to dust off his clothes when he stands up straight once again. 

Now that he's inside, he realises this must be the living room of an abandoned apartment. The window that you're sliding shut behind him is cracked and as he looks around, he sees how run down the room is. There's a smashed glass coffee table, several pictures that have fallen off the walls, and a TV with a crack through the screen. The whole room smells distinctly of dust and Rody has to wrinkle his nose a few times to ward off a sneeze. 

You grab his hand before he can look around any more though and begin to lead him away, down a hallway towards a door that's missing a handle. When you shoulder it open, Rody realises this must be the entrance to the apartment, because you and he stepped out into a large hallway that's lined with other doors. You begin to move down it and Rody follows, not questioning you even in the slightest. Instead, he focuses on your hand, your fingers gripping tightly in his despite your seeming indifference. Your palm is cold but dry, contrasting with his own slick skin. But you don't seem to mind as you continue to pull him behind you, moving one, two, three, four doors to the left before you stop and lead the way into another apartment. 

This one is slightly cleaner than the other and feels distinctly lived in, although Rody can't really distinguish them apart. You still don't turn any lights on and he knows you're not going to at all, because these apartments are not supposed to be occupied. Instead, you bring him down a hallway, through a living room that doesn't stink of dust, and then into a bedroom that, despite being a little messy, smells distinctly of you and feels the same way. 

You drop his hand then and he refuses to acknowledge that way he misses the feeling of your touch. Pino, who's been perched on your shoulder, remains in her spot snuggled into your neck. When you turn to sit down on the double bed that stands against the opposite wall of the room - made with fresh sheets and blankets, he notes - he feels like she's staring at him. Deliberate, that's what the look is, although he's not entirely sure of the reason for it. 

Funny that, considering she is him. 

"I almost didn't think you were to come," you say, breaking the silence properly for the first time that night. You look almost timid looking up at him, dressed in dark pants and a bulky hoodie. It's nondescript clothing, he recognises. Things you have to wear, to avoid getting noticed, although he has a feeling you’re distinctly uncomfortable in them. 

Shuffling a little, he stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at the ground, toeing idly at the loose corner of the floorboard. "I didn't think I was going to either," he admitted to you, refusing to meet your gaze. "I… didn't want to." 

"You never want to." 

"No."

"But you come anyway."

And he sighs. He does. And it really pisses him off. 

"What is this place anyway?" he asks, changing the topic. Raising his head, he surveys the room he's in properly, taking in everything from the smashed light bulbs to the skew curtain rail, to the missing skirting board on one wall. He honestly didn't even know this part of the city existed until you brought him here - it doesn't seem like the kind of thing the Otheanian government would allow for; whole apartment complexes of vacant space, just sitting around. But when he turns back to you, he sees a somewhat wistful look in your eyes as you too observe the area around you. 

"This was one of the areas affected by the trigger bomb that they set off as a test. You remember that right?" 

You don't give him time to answer verbally but he knows you accept his short nod of acknowledgment. "All these apartments," you continue, "Everyone who lived in them died." 

Oh. 

He remembers now, the time you'd told him your story. All of it, of how you'd lost your parents to a car accident and then lost your older brother to the trigger bomb. The only reason you had been spared was because of your quirklessness. Although he has a feeling that your fate has probably turned out worse than those who lost their lives; being forced to watch as your brother's beloved quirk tore him apart and then having to go on.  He's not sure if he would have been as strong as you are, not sure if he could have. 

Then again, he has always been weak. 

"Was this…" he begins to ask. Then he stops himself because… he's not sure what he'll do if you tell him yes. You seem to understand anyway because a soft smile graces your lips. 

"Don't worry, this wasn't my apartment," you tell him, chuckling. "I'm not that sick in the head just yet." 

He blushes at the implication, suddenly feeling guilty.  But you speak again before he can start apologizing. 

"I lived higher up, in another building,” you tell him. "This is just a place I've been using as a hideout recently." 

"How long have you been here?" 

You shrug one shoulder, tracing your hand over the becomes as you do so. "A couple of days? Long enough to know there aren't any cameras around here, anyway, so no one's gonna catch us." 

"And you're gonna leave soon?" 

You nod in answer. "I have to. I got one last job that I've gotta do." 

Rody doesn't resist you when you reach for his hand, tugging him down towards you. He doesn't miss the way you kick your shoes off and has mind enough to discard his own before he lets you bring him down onto the bed next to you. The pair of you lie side by side, facing each other, fingers tangled and faces close enough that Rody can feel your soft breaths against his skin. Up close, he can see finally how tired you are; there are deep shadows beneath your eyes and your skin is ashen, dull, and not glowing as it should be. Your cheeks too are hollower than normal, like you've lost weight but not in a healthy way. And your eyes… your eyes are dull, lifeless, sad. 

He wonders briefly how bad things have gotten since he last saw you. And as he always does when he's with you, he also wonders if he'll ever see you again after this.  

"What do you have to do?" He asks you quietly, although he's dreading the answer. He's not even sure if you can tell him - your work isn't something that either of you likes to talk about because you don't usually want him to know. "It's too dangerous," is what you'd said. "If they ever found out you knew, you'd be dead." 

Though, if they ever find out at all, Rody is sure he's dead anyway. But he doesn't ever say that to you. 

You look desperate now though, there's something pleading within the depths of your gaze. Rody wants to raise his hand, to set it on your face, but he doesn't know if you'd be happy with him touching you yet. Thankfully, Pino, who was still clinging to your shoulder and is now bundled in the warmth of your neck, rubs her head against your skin, back and forth soothingly as she lets out low chirps. 

You smile a little at the feeling and raise a hand to run your finger along her back. But your eyes betray you; he can see your terror hiding right there beneath the surface. 

"I… they have a job that they need me to do," you begin, dropping your gaze from his. "It's, uh, it's not too bad. I just need to deliver some research documents to… Well, there's this massive crime syndicate and their boss, he's… in the middle of doing some pretty nasty shit, and they… Well, they kind of want me to infiltrate them and…" 

But you trail off because you're visibly shaking. You're terrified, truly, he can see it in the way you stare hard at the collar of his jacket in order to avoid looking into his eyes. And this time he doesn't hesitate to reach an arm around to wrap you up, pulling you closer so he can press his nose to the top of your head. 

"Shh," he mumbles into your hair, rubbing at your back in as soothing of a gesture as he possibly can. "Just breathe, I'm here now, okay?" 

You suck in a shaky inhale and he feels the way your body trembles beneath his touch. It makes him clench his jaw shut because a thousand different thoughts are rising to his tongue, thoughts of telling you to get out of there, telling you to come live with him, starting over, faking your death, anything to get you away from those monsters. 

But he keeps his mouth shut because he knows you won't take any of it. 

"I…" you mumble as your bottom lip trembles and Rody is struck by the sudden fear that you're going to start crying. "I don't know… if I'll come back from this. A few people have gone in before, tried to do the things I'm supposed to do, and - and they've all been killed. Horribly. So this might… this might be the last time you -" 

But Rody really doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't know if he can because despite the way he's thought it before, hearing it from you is a whole different story. You are usually hopelessly optimistic, despite your cryptic nature. You don't just say shit like that unless you really mean it and if you're this scared, you really must do.

He kisses you to shut you up because he can’t really think of anything else. Buries his hand in your hair and uses it as leverage to tilt your head back as his mouth seals with yours. You let out a muffled noise, obviously not expecting it. But you don't push him away; you fist your fingers in the front of his shirt and just about haul him closer. And even though he can feel the way tears are spilling down your cheeks, he doesn't say anything about it. 

He's kissed you before. Many, many times. Keeping his lips off you has been the struggle, really, what with how desperate both of you always are in these meet-ups. But this one… it doesn't feel the same as all the other kisses you've shared. It's too close, too hot, too desperate. It feels like an ‘I love you.’ 

And also like a 'goodbye.' 

"Rody," you mumble into his mouth. "Rody." And he just kisses you harder in response. 

You're desperate, you’re so fucking desperate. And Rody knows you two should probably talk about things a little more first. He wants to know all the details of what you have to do, he wants to know when, and where, and how, and if you need anything if there's anything he can do to help. Because he wants to help you, even though he shouldn't. 

He wants to give you the best possible chance of coming back alive. Even if your survival will only make things complicated for him. 

Because as disgusting of a thought as it is, if you die, you'll be gone and he'll be in the clear. His guilty conclusion can be wiped, and he won't have to risk his life, and Roro's and Lala's, as he does anymore. You'd be gone and really, it wouldn't be his problem. 

But it's not possible for him to think like that. Because it's you and he lov- needs you. And so he wants to help you come back even if there's nothing for you to come back to. 

The kiss is turning frantic; moving from a drag of his lips on yours to a storm, a wild clash of your mouths together. He finds your bottom lip, nips at it, feeling its softness on his tongue. And he revels in the way you whimper at the feeling, thickly, through your tears. Because if there's really nothing he can do to help you, he's sure as hell going to make these moments the best of your whole life. 

His hand slips to the side of your face, tracing the skin there. And then his fingers move down to grasp you around the hinge of your jaw. He feels something soft and furry brush his skin then, and then a flutter of wings moves above you two. Pino, he thinks vaguely and then takes a minute to thank fuck he's trained her for these situations, that she knows to go find some comfortable spot to settle down and not bother either of you for the next few hours. You don't even seem to notice as you pull him closer to you, your tongue pressing deeper into his. He feels your fingers in his hair, tugging at his ponytail; you pull a few strands loose and wind them between your fingers as you shuffle your hips a little closer. And then his arms reach forward, his large hand grabbing at your thigh, pulling it up and over his hip. 

You pull back to look into his eyes then, and what little he can see of your face through the darkness is earnest and desperate. "Rody,” you whisper and it's so soft, so scared; it reminds him a little of the way Lala will cry out for him when she has nightmares, reminds him of her helplessness. "Rody," you say again, your lower lip trembling just a little. "Will you… will you make me forget about it? Just for now?: 

He can���t say no to you. He's never been able to, not once in his whole life. Not when it counts. So he nods once and leans up to press his lips in the softest touch possible to the skin of your forehead. "I'll make you forget," he whispers and both of you ignore how thick his voice is. "Just focus on me, okay?"

You nod and again it reminds him of a scared child. So he wraps you in his arms and pulls you close, kissing you again as hard as he can in his best attempt to help you forget it all. He nips at your lip again and then slides his tongue past it, meeting the heat of your own. And you whine against him at the feeling, squirming a little to get your leg more securely over his hips. 

 "I need," you choke out in the millisecond you have to pull back and breathe. "I need you." 

And Rody needs you too, everything about you, so when you dive back to him, your hands gripping the sides of his face as you turn your head to seal your mouth back to his, he grabs at your legs and rolls, tugging you along with him. You let out a small squeak when you end up above him, knees on either side of his hips. But you don't pull away. Instead, you use the extra leverage now to grind yourself down on him, rolling your hips achingly slow against his with a purpose that makes Rody groan into your mouth. 

"Fuck," he mumbles when you pull back a little, balancing yourself with a hand on either side of his head. He reaches up then, to cup your face softly, while his other hand goes to your hip. For a moment he soothes you, holds you, staring deep into your shadowed eyes as he tries to convey as much of his own feelings in his expression. Then he adjusts his grip to tug lightly at your hoodie, which you're still wearing, as his brows furrow just the slightest bit. 

"Take this off for me," he whispers to you. And you do; you sit up, away from him, shifting your weight so you can hold yourself up over his hips. Then you hastily begin to tug at the hoodie, pulling one arm free and then the other before yanking it over your head and letting it tumble to the ground. 

Rody sits up too and copies you, tugging his own coat off. And then he leans forward to grasp at your hips, keeping you upright as his hands smooth first up your spine and then down, to pull the ends of the button-up shirt you're wearing out from where they're tucked into your slacks. 

You loop your arms around his neck and watch him as he does it, your eyes half-lidded and lustful. And then, as he lets his hands sneak up under the hem of the shirt, you lean down to kiss him again, pressing the entirety of your torso against his as he grips desperately at the warm skin of your hips. 

Your fingers are creeping down, going from his shoulders into the gap of the collar of his shirt. He feels your nails against his skin, just the lightest scratch, and yet it sends shivers rushing up his spine. No doubt, you can feel them, the way his body seems to vibrate as his skin tingles and he pulls you even closer. He places his palm flat to your back and as his tongue caresses yours, let's his finger slide up. He feels the warmth of your skin, then the strap of your bra. And then the grooves of your shoulder blades, which slide beneath his touch as you reach up to tangle your fingers into his hair. 

"Rody, please," you mumble into his mouth and he doesn't even need to ask. Your hips are rolling before he can collect his thoughts, grinding down on his lap with a purpose that sends fire burning through his gut. And he can't help but meet you when you go to do it again, the hardness between his legs seeking the softness between yours desperately. 

You both moan into each other's mouths as finally, you're granted some reprieve. And Rody can feel himself becoming addicted, as he always does. The first rush of his fix after a period of withdrawal, the first taste of you he gets in so long; it's almost too much for him to bear and he finds his jaw going slack, a whine crawling up from the back of his throat as you continue to touch him in ways only you know how.

"Please," you whisper against his tongue again and it's soft, desperate, and needy. You're begging for him - you, the one person he knows would not beg for anything. You're doing it for him, for his touch. 

And he obliges willingly. 

Your shirt is unbuttoned in a matter of seconds. Rody might've ripped it, if he didn't already know how mad at him you'd be. And even so, he likes the intimacy of tracing his hands down the front of your chest, between the swells of your breasts as deftly, he pops each button. He barely needs to pull away to do it, just moves only the slightest bit so he can see. And you don't stop your movements all the time; your hips continue to roll and your hands continue to explore, dipping down his back and up into his hair as you take what you can touch for yourself. 

It's only once your shirt is open completely, and the skin of your chest and abdomen is exposed to the glow of the night that Rody pulls back to look at you. Really look at you. He cups your face with one hand as his eyes bore into yours. And then his gaze travels down, over your lips, your neck, your shoulders to your chest, the black lace of your exposed bra, and the way your abdomen moves with each heaving breath you take. 

He won't let himself acknowledge just how beautiful you are. But he definitely wants to. 

You whine then and shift against him, getting desperate in his lack of movement. And so without warning, he leans forward to press his face into your neck. He feels your sharp intake of breath and has barely a millisecond to let slip the ghost of a smirk before he presses his lips to your skin and loses himself in the taste of you. 

Your fingers tighten in his hair as he draws his path down the line of your throat towards your collarbone and you tilt your head back to give him more room to work. A moan tumbles from you then, soft and sweet, and it makes Rody just about choke into your skin as he feels his own body respond accordingly. "Fuck," he mumbles to you and only you, using his hand on your face as leverage to turn your head just slightly. "Don't make noises like that or I'll-" 

"You'll what?" You whisper to cut him off and he's sure he can hear the ghost of a smile tracing your lips. "Do it, Rody. Let me have it." 

And because he's never been one to deny you, he does. 

His hands go to your bra first. Squeezing the soft paying of the cups, searching for a taste of the warmth beneath. And then, finding nothing, they slip around, to your back. He undoes the clasp with much more ease that he'd ever hoped to have; a simple flick of his finger and the dark fabric is falling away. You draw back from him when you feel it, only by a hair's breadth, to rip your shirt and then your bra from your torso and throw them to the floor. And then you press into him again with enough force that he's pushed back down to the bed, his back flat against the covers which are growing warm from his body heat and yours. 

You kiss along his jawline then, kiss and nip at the skin. You reach his earlobe, take it between your teeth and he moans. His head tilts back a little as he feels your soft breaths against his neck, and his hands travel up the smooth expanse of your bare back. He feels your spine beneath your skin, feels the way your shoulder blades move as you breathe.  It gets him high, gets him addicted, because you feel so real beneath his touch, so alive. 

A pang shoots through him then as something in the back of his mind reminds him you may not be for much longer. But he pushes it away and fixes his focus back on you because it's not something he wants to let himself think about at all. 

“Rody,” you whisper then, right into the warmth of his neck. “Off.” And he realises your hands have dipped to the hem of his shirt. A series of tingles rush up his spine at the feeling of your fingernails rubbing over the skin of his abdomen and without even thinking, he reaches down to meet your hand. Together you tug at the buttons, getting each undone clumsily, messily. And finally, the shirt has fallen open, letting the moonlight that streams through the windows dance over Rody’s bare skin. 

He’s not self-conscious. Not really. All his physical work, the heavy lifting, the rushing around, not to mention the actual physical training he puts in to be able to fly his beloved planes; all of it has kept him lithe, kept him toned. He can see the contours of his abdomen even when you pull away from him and sit up. He watches your eyes for a moment, watches the way they trail over him, the glow of them and the way your eyelashes droop just a little. 

And then you drop forward again to kiss him. It’s so soft, so much softer than before that Rody’s head practically spins and he has to grab onto your hips to ground himself. You’re completely overwhelming and yet he can’t really think of anything better than completely drowning in you. And so, when your arms snake around the back of his neck, he takes the opportunity to grab at one of your thighs and then rolls himself over, flipping your positions completely. 

He pulls back once you’re beneath him and takes a moment to just look at you. With the moonlight slanting over your face now and your eyes wide as you stare up at him, he can read your expression perfectly. And it makes something in his chest twist violently, desperately, as he raises a hand to trail the tips of his fingers over the swell of your cheek in a touch so feather like neither of you really feel it. 

“Rody,” you whisper up to him. And he says your name right back to you, his eyes suddenly stinging violently as something deep inside his chest melts. Before you can ask him what's wrong though, he leans in and presses a long, soft kiss right to your forehead. 

“I…” you mumble out but your voice trails off before you can finish. And Rody, despite only having a feeling about what you want to say, doesn’t ask you to continue. Instead, he shifts down and seals his lips to yours again in a kiss that's distinctly wetter than any that came previously. 

He’s not sure which of you is crying.  And he doesn’t bother to ask you that either. 

Your hands come up, twisting into his hair. You pull it from its ponytail properly then and knot your fingers into the soft brown strands as if you're trying to secure yourself as part of him. And he almost wants to tell you that you don’t need to try, that without even meaning to, you’ve wormed your way far deeper than just his hair. 

He doesn’t though because right then his hips give an instinctive roll and you whine into his lips. And the sound is so beautiful and makes his heart do so many backflips that he completely loses his train of thought. 

“Oh, fuck…” you whisper when he finally pulls away to kiss down your neck again. “Please…”

“Please what?” is his reply as he closes his eyes and breathes in the warmth of your skin. With your top gone, you’re so exposed for him; there’s so much for your skin to touch and to taste and it makes him a little dizzy. He shuffles down slightly as you sigh out a soft answer, something he doesn’t quite catch. And when he leans in to suck gently at the flesh of the top of your breast, he can’t help but smile to himself over the way your breath hitches and your words stumble. 

“Speak up, darling,” He whispers to you, eyes flicking upwards to search your face. You're not looking at him - your eyes are squeezing tight shut and your chin is tilted back, towards the ceiling. He can feel your fingers tighten in his hair though, a sign that you’ve registered his words. It makes his smile widen. “I won’t know what you need if you don’t use your words.” 

Maybe you’ll actually answer him. You look like you’re going to, with your mouth opening and your eyelashes fluttering against the curves of your cheeks. But then Rody takes your nipple between his lips to suck it lightly and your words dissolve into a soft moan. 

Rody doesn’t mind. He casts his eyes down again and focuses on your chest as he laps at your skin, rolling your nipple back and forth between his teeth. Even here you taste sweet, and even now he just wants more of you. His other hand kneads at your other breast, feeling it in his palm, its weight and its softness. He hears your soft mewls as he does so and it makes him smile more because it sounds like you’re still trying to speak. Only every time the words are just about to form, he gives another languid suck and steals them right from your tongue. 

“Aw, come on,” he tells you teasingly when he pulls away to shift his mouth to your other breast. “Just say it, sweetheart.”

And then he silences you again when he goes to suck a love bite right into the underside of your tit, smirking the whole time. 

You whine in frustration and tug lightly at his hair. And when his eyes flick upwards to catch yours, he sees the smallest pout turning your lips downward. 

“Rody,” you whimper, your tongue sounding heavy in your mouth and your hips give a careless jump upwards when he licks along a particularly sensitive patch of skin. “T-touch-” 

He says your name back to you, his smirk catching at its tail end as he circles his middle finger around the outline of your areola. “Touch?” 

“Touch me,” you breathe out. “Please.” 

And despite how much he enjoys teasing you, the sound of your pleas makes Rody’s entire chest flame with white heat. “Where?” is all he asks and it makes you sigh aloud. Your hand leaves his hair and slides along his arm to grip his wrist. And then you’re guiding his hand, pulling from your chest down your body until you’re pressing his fingers right to the juncture between your thighs. “Here.”

Both of you moan at the feeling; you from the satisfaction of his touch and Rody from your warmth. You’re so hot between your thighs, he almost wants to say that you’re burning him, that the heat of you is searing into his skin. It’s addicting though, and he only wants more - he craves more. So he moves his hand, his fingers, and rubs up against you, pressing through the thick fabric of your pants in search of you beneath. 

“Oh fuck,” you mumble as your head tips back with the feeling. Your thighs are threatening to close, to trap his hand where it is, and so he uses his other palm to press one of your legs to the bed, keeping your heat available to him. 

“Please, please, please…” you whisper as your hips roll again and he knows that you want more. The soft stroking of his fingers over your clothed pussy isn’t enough and if he’s honest, he agrees. He wants to feel you, all of you, as much as he can before you have to go again. But he also wants to tease you. And so he leans down to take your nipple back between his lips at the same time that his fingers pop the button on your slacks and draw the zipper down. He feels the sigh that rushes through your body when he sneaks his hand inside your pants and panties, and then both of you are whining into each other when his fingertips brush their way over your raw heat for the first time tonight. 

You’re wet. So wet and it almost makes Rody dizzy. You want him - that's what your actions tell him. You want him as much as he wants you and that - 

That scares him. But it almost makes him love you more. 

“Shhhh,” he breathes into your skin when you let out a weak yelp at his first touch to your clit. “It’s okay, darling, I’m here. I’ve got you.” 

You're in your head - he can see it. He can practically hear the way your thoughts are running rampant through your mind, probably about a million and one things. And so he tries his best to soothe you, to ground you. To bring you back to him because he needs you. As much as he shouldn’t, as much as for all intents and purposes, he really can’t afford to, he does. 

And so he leans up to press his lips to yours before he blinks down at you, meeting your eyes through the low light of the moon. “Stay with me,” he whispers to you and neither of you is really sure if he’s talking about just for now or forever. “Please.” 

And so you loop your arms around his neck and press your forehead to yours. And he pretends he doesn’t see the tears shining in your eyes and he turns his focus back to where he is touching you. Your slick is coating his fingers, your heat enveloping his skin. And as much as he wants to drive himself inside you, the way your eyelids flutter each time his middle finger ghosts over your clit is intoxicating. 

“My darling,” he tells you, trying to stop his own voice from wavering. “I’m going to worship you.” And then he gets to watch as your back arches upwards when he begins to tease over your clit.

You're so responsive to him, so pliant even in his gentle handling. It's something Rody has marveled over since his first night ever spent with you; he still remembers the way you'd whined just like this even back then like his touch had the weight of the whole world crashing down on you. He watches your reactions with keen eyes, keeping his forehead pressed to yours so he can stare at your face properly as all the while, his fingers circle your clit with only the lightest of pressure. You squirm just a little, your breathing jumping again and again. And then you moan aloud when he slips his hands a little further down and gently eases one long finger right inside you  

You're just as warm as always, just as needy. Your walls immediately clamp around what little of him that you can get, soaking his skin right away. And Rody can't help but feel delighted because his own cock is throbbing, straining for you through the cloth of his pants, and knowing that it is reciprocated, that the need is mutual - 

Well, it's not quite enough to make him cry. But it's pretty close. 

"Sweetheart," he whispers to you, and his lips ghost over yours. You open your eyes, surprised at the feeling, and meet his gaze in a way that has Rody smirking just a little.

"Feel good for me," is what he tells you and he gets to watch then as your eyes visibly roll back and your whole body shudders as you allow yourself to feel every sensation to the fullest. 

"Rody-!" You choke as he gently adds a second finger into the warmth of your cunt and then begins to pump them, pressing them deeper inside you. "Rody, shit!" 

It must feel good. He can see it on your face; the way the pleasure burns through your expression and through your eyes. Your hips are starting to roll, meeting his hand with each thrust of his fingers. And it sends spikes of heat through his own body as his cock gets harder and harder and his heart beats louder in his ears. You've always been able to get him off like this - with your pleasure alone. It's like he can feel it in himself because when you feel good, so does he. And it almost makes him fizzy. 

"Shit," he mumbles when you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. "That's it, darling, that's it. Does that feel nice?" 

"Fuck, Rody-" is all you can choke in reply and it has something igniting deep within Rody's gut. He wants you. God, he really wants you; all of you, everything that you'll willingly give him, he wants. "Fuck," he mumbles to himself then because everything's growing too hot, too desperate. It's too fast, he wants to drag it out more. He wants to make this last as long as it possibly can. 

So he pulls his fingers out; of you, of your pants. And brings them up to your mouth. Your eyes stay closed when he prods your lips but you open up for him, taking his digits against your tongue with ease. Rody almost moans at the feeling because as you suck on each of his fingers, cleaning yourself off them, he can't help but imagine what that mouth would feel like on his cock. 

He tells himself now is not the time though. And so once his fingers are completely clean, he snakes an arm back around your hips and them pulls you with him until you're both lying comfortably on your sides again. 

You open your eyes then, finally, and look at him once more. And he's stunned by everything that's swirling so deep within your gaze. 

"Rody, I..." you whisper and he wonders briefly if you're going to say it. He doesn't want you to though, not yet. He feels lie if you do say it, everything will be over. So, to stop you, he gently grasps at your wrist with his free hand and begins to guide it down your body. 

"Shhh," he mumbles as he does so and then he gets to watch as your eyes spark up with recognition. You understand what he’s doing, and what he wants. He feels you take ownership of your movements, your hand moving with his and sliding down your own body. And then your fingers dip beneath the hem of your pants without him even needing to ask.

“Make yourself feel good,” is what he whispers to you, pressing his forehead into yours as he looks down to watch the way your hand begins to move inside your panties. You moan when your fingers find your clit and a shiver passes down your body as you begin to circle it slowly once again. 

Rody moans too as he stares at the sight - you look ethereal, so fucking beautiful. And he wants nothing more than to slip inside of you, be one with you, right then and there. But he forces himself to stay still and watch as you find your pleasure, letting you work yourself in the way that you want to. 

He’s so engrossed in the sight that he almost doesn’t notice your other hand reaching for him until your nails trace lightly over the skin of his abdomen and then down to the bulge in his pants. He feels it though, immediately, and his breath hitches sharply in his throat. 

“Oh fuck-!” 

“Feel good with me,” you breathe to him, your eyelids fluttering open so you can stare up at him with silvery eyes. “Touch yourself with me, Rody.” 

For a moment he’s frozen, staring down at you in absolute awe. And then you reach of his hand and guide it, as he’d done to you, down to his crotch. Your fingers pop the button on his pants and draw the zipper down, allowing his bulge more room to rise from his boxers. And then without even thinking about it, he copies you and shoves his hand beneath the waistband of his boxers to finally, finally, skim his fingers over his aching cock. 

The first touch is almost too much and he hisses as he realises how sensitive you’ve got him. He’s desperate for you, his breaths turning high and shaky as he eases his hand around himself and grips his length fully. 

“Ro-dy,” you whine for him, your own voice breathing in a soft whimper. “Please, Rody…”

And because you want him to, he begins to touch himself too. He slides his hand up the length of his cock to the tip, thumbs at it, and then brings his hand back down. He’s completely hard by now, the tent sizable in his boxers. And yet all he can focus on is watching the way your hand moves within your own panties, your thighs jumping every now and again as you hit a particularly sensitive spot. 

“Darling,” He whispers as he coats his hand in his own precum and then begins to pump himself in earnest. “Shit, I…”

He lets his words trail off as his head drops forward, his nose brushing up against yours. The pair of you are so close to each other, with your noses bumping and your lips brushing, and the tip of his bulge bumping up against your thigh when his hips give an involuntary thrust. It’s so intimate and vulnerable, possibly even more so than when he's actually buried within you. And Rody is completely addicted; he tries to sear you into each one of his senses as he lies there, sharing the moment with you. Burns the memories of your expressions, of your low whimpers, of the way your hair and skin smell, of the taste of your lips, of the softness of you against him, of all of it right into his brain forever. 

“Shit,” he mumbles as he feels his pleasure mounting. “Oh, fuck, fuck fuck, feels s’good.” 

Probably not as good as when it’s actually you touching him - you always do something special to him whenever you get your hands on him. But good enough that he realises quickly that his orgasm is fast approaching. 

“Darling,” he whispers, staring into your misty eyes. “Are you-?”

And you nod in answer as your lips part with another moan. “So close,” you whimper, your voice trembling just a little. “M’so close. Rody!” 

He tries his best to soothe you with soft cooing as he continues to thrust his hips against his own hand. He can see it in you now, the approaching climax. He sees it in the way your thighs tense and the muscle in your abdomen begins to twitch and the way your moans turn high and desperate. He knows you get overwhelmed when you cum, that you need him there with you. And so as tears begin to bead in your eyes and the pace of your hand turns almost frantic, he leans forward to kiss you. 

“Stay with me,” he whispers against your lips. And you whine back in reply as finally, you reach your release. He feels it travel through your body like a shockwave, a slight shiver rushing up your spine. And that's all his body needs to trigger his own orgasm. His hips jump one last time and then the tension that's been building within him releases as his hand grows damp with strings of his own cum. 

For a moment, he just stares at you with wide eyes. And you stare back as your own hand stills. And then you both let out soft breaths, exhales that neither of you realise you’ve been holding. 

“God,” Rody mumbles as he withdraws his hand from his boxers. “Shit, you… you make me feel so many things.” 

He sees your expression soften, the slight haziness of lust having burned off just a little. You seem a little more aware of yourself as you reach for him and pull him by the back of his head to kiss him once again. He kisses you back, his heart pounding violently in his chest as he feels you caress his face softly. You're grabbing at his hair again, tangling it between your fingers to keep him close. Not that he could ever even consider leaving - right now at this moment, he cares about nothing outside of you and your touch, your taste, your smell. 

He almost doesn't realise when you begin to shuffle around, that you’re shimmying yourself out of your slacks and panties. It’s only when you reach for him, going to pull his pants down his hips that he seems to snap from his trance. And then, after leaning away from you to wipe the cum that remains on his hand on the old bedsheets, he helps you. It doesn’t take long to kick his pants off, and then his boxers. And then you’re both completely naked and sprawled out beside each other. 

A horrible little voice in the back of Rody’s mind tells him that this will probably be the last time he ever gets to have you like this. But he pushes it away to bury his head back in your neck and pull you closer to him. Neither of you seems to have it in you to move properly, not even roll over. And so Rody just hooks your thigh over his hips and wraps your torso in his arms and holds you as close as he can. 

“I-” he begins, feeling like he has a million things to say before he slips inside you. “Shit, darling, I think that I _”

He stops when he feels your thumbs trail over his jaw. And then he pulls away from your neck to meet your eyes and is hit suddenly by the desperate need to cry. Because he sees it in your own eyes, everything that he wants to say. He sees it in you. 

Your fingers trail over his lip for a second as you scan his face. And then the softest of smiles tugs the corner of your mouth upward. 

“Me too, Rody,” is what you whisper to him, in a voice so soft it’s barely a breath. “Me too.” 

And somehow, that’s all that either of you needs. 

Rody dips down to kiss you again and it’s as he does so that the head of his cock brushes up against the slick heat of your pussy. The both of you whine against each other, muffling your moans in the other's lips. And then Rody slips his hand down between your bodies to grip the base of his cock. 

“Let me make you feel everything,” he breathes out against you. And it seems to be all you can do to mumble back a muffled confirmation as your bury you hands in his hair once again and tug him closer. 

Rody lines himself up with your cunt, pausing for only a split second to admire you and the way your bare body feels pressed up against his own. He really loves you, he’s pretty sure of it now. Far more than he should. And yet he can’t stop - he chooses to keep loving you, despite it all. And so he presses a soft kiss to your forehead in the brief moment of calm before the story, in hopes that he can make you feel it. 

Then, when he finally begins to slide himself inside you, it’s like everything in the world just makes sense. He recognises how you feel, the warmth of you, and the way you take him inside. And he wonders - something he’s definitely thought before - why the hell he doesn’t ever just stay with you, and why the hell he ever feels apprehensive about coming. You - god, you’re heavenly. In every way. As he sinks himself inside you, he can feel everything about you, from the way you tremble in his touch, to the way your heart pounds against your chest to the way your silken inner walls pulse around him. He’s so close to you, he's a part of you. And it makes him happy, it makes him fucking giddy. 

“Rody,” you whine once he’s completely bottomed out and is sitting still within you, staring down at you in awe. “Fuck, you’re… it’s too… move!” 

And so he does. Pulling his hips back as much as he can without totally leaving the warmth of your cunt, he adjusts himself, hooks your thigh a little more securely over his hip, and then thrusts right back into you. You let out a sharp yelp of pleasure at the feeling and it’s like he can feel the rush that travels up your body, Your leg tightens around him and then you pull him close, bury your nose in the crook of his defined collarbone as you whimper. It all makes Rody a little dizzy as he delivers a second thrust and then a third, soon establishing a familiar rythym. You’re squeezing him, you’re so fucking tight, god - 

And you seem to share the sentiment because with the more power that he builds up, the higher pitch your moans rise to. Your own hips rock against his as you pant into his shoulder, a garbled mixture of mumbles of his name and soft swear words that don’t make much sense. He doesn’t mind though because his head is growing foggy - he can feel the tip of his cock prodding your insides, hitting a certain spongy spot that makes his entire body fizz. He assumes it’s your g-spot by your reaction; a sharp intake of breath followed by a moan. And so he aims for it again and again and again until your trembling and practically sobbing in his arms. 

“Rody,” you whimper, your voice weak and helpless. “Rody, feel s’good. S’too much, I’m - I can’t - fuck.” 

“It’s okay, darling,” He whispers down at you when you start to babble, holding you as close as he can as his eye go hazy. “Shit- it’s okay, feel it. Feel it f’me, yeah? Does it feel good?” 

“So good!” you choke back and if makes Rody’s chest ache with warmth. 

“Stay with me,” is what he whispers as he forces you higher on your wave of pleasure. “Feel good for me, stay with me, please.” 

“Rody, fuck!” is all you can really say back as your back begins to arch into him and your body begins to tense up. Your cunt is clamping down on him, trying to milk him for everything he has and he loves it, he craves it. He wants you to cum so fucking bad it’s as desperate as his need for oxygen. And so he slides a hand down between your bodies once again to rub at your clit. 

“C’mon,” He whispers to you as he draws figure-eights on your most sensitive spot, feeling the way your body convulses with each. “Cum for me, yeah? Show me how good you feel, darling, please. I need it.”

“I’m so close!” you squeak, your eyes squeezing shut. “So close! Oh shit, oh fuck, fuck, I’m gonna - Fuck, I’m cumming!” 

Your words fade into a moan that almost makes Rody himself cum on the spot. He feels your cunt begin to ripple, throbbing around him as your body tenses up and your eyes roll back. It’s like he can see the pleasure for himself as it rolls through you in waves, making your toes curl and your fingers grasp tighter in his hair before you go limp in his arms. 

For a second he almost thinks you’re done for the night. And his thrusts falter for just a second as his mind begins to prepare for your coming request to pull out. 

But you don’t. Instead, with surprising strength, you hook your leg further over him and then roll, forcing him back down onto his back so you’re straddling his lap once again, and staring down at him with those gorgeous doe eyes. 

Rody blinks up at you, frozen momentarily with surprise. And you smile at him, a small soft and smug smile that makes his heart do backflips. 

“Did you really think this was over?” you mumble to him and despite the way your words are still slightly slurred, he can hear the teasing in your voice. “I’m not that  selfish.” 

And then, before he can even begin to formulate a response in his own head, you roll your hips

It's too much. That's what Rody thinks as you begin to fuck yourself on him. It's way too fucking much. With the position, you atop him, he can see you. Properly. The light from the moon outside the window is shining across your body, causing shadows and highlights over the contours of your figure. And he forced to look at you, really look at you, so much that he knows he'll never be able to forget you again. 

You feel like too much too. He slides up inside you so easily, feeling the warmth of you again and again as you bounce yourself in his lap. And it makes his eyes roll back and his back arch and his teeth sink down into his own bottom lip because everything about you is just perfection. And he's honestly sure that if he takes in too much of you right now he might just die. 

"Oh, god," he mumbles as his hands scrabble to grab at your hips. "Fuck, fuck, sweetheart, you're-" 

God, it's so much. It's too much. His entire body feels hot and sensitive and he hasn't fucking cum yet - although he can feel that too, with the way his muscles tense and his balls tighten and he feels his dick begin to switch.

You don't even seem to care about your own pleasure anymore - although you're still moaning with each time the top of him hits your sweet spot. You too focused on him below you, your eyes watching with drooping lashes as you try to force him to his own orgasm before you reach your own. 

"Love you," is what Rody pants out as he finally gets enough leverage on your hips to thrust up into you. You let out a small squeak at the movement but meet his momentum anyway, sinking even lover of his length. "Fuck - I love you." 

He doesn't really know what he's saying, with the pleasure clouding his mind and the hazy of his approaching orgasm dissolving all of his thoughts. But he does still know that what he's saying is true. And he wants you to know, especially now. Especially after everything. 

He almost regrets it though, when your movements falter and you look down at him with wide eyes and a slight gap between your kiss bruised lips. He almost regrets it. 

But even before he can start to think up something else to say, you're rushing down to kiss him harder than you've ever kissed him before. 

Neither of you can really breathe and Rody finds himself panting violently into your mouth as you begin to rock yourself against him again. But he doesn't care, not in the slightest. In fact, when you begin to pull away, he follows you and sits up to wrap his arms around your back with one hand to the back of your head, so he can fit his mouth to yours again. 

The pair of you stay like that for a while; you straddling Rody while he thrusts up into you in a regular rhythm, the both of you moaning softly. Your hands have found purchase in his hair once again and Rody practically sees stars when you use your grip on the strands as leverage to pull his head back so you can attack his neck with soft nips and kisses. He lets his eyes slide shut as the feeling of your lips on his neck completely overwhelms him. And he allows himself to imagine, just very briefly, that this isn't your last time before you have to leave, that he'll be able to stay the whole night with you, and that tomorrow morning when the sun has risen and the birds are chirping, you'll still be here and he can take you out and show you properly how much you mean to him. 

It's a nice dream. Real nice. And it makes his chest fill with warmth as his grip around your body tightens. His hips start to stutter and he realises with another soft nip by you at his pulse point, that he's frustratingly close to cumming. 

"Shit," he whispers to no one in particular and feels his entire body flood with heat as your pace only increases. "M'so close. Where - fuck - where d'you want me?" 

"Inside," you murmur back to him. "Stay inside." 

Rody could practically cry at your words because fuck. You don't usually let him finish inside and the fact that you're doing so now… it has multiple meanings, most of which Rody doesn't want to think about. And so he lets his delight and his need and his love all take control instead and focuses his attention on the building tension in his gut. 

"Fuck," he mumbles to you, as his thighs begin to tense and his thrusts go sloppy. "So close, shit, I'm gonna…. I'm gonna… oh fuck." 

"Cum with me," is what you whisper to him as his voice turns high and desperate, right against the shell of his ear. And Rody can't help but whine at the feeling, as you begin to tighten around him and your inner walls start to pulse and push his body right to the edge once again. 

"Stay with me," he whispers, almost deliriously, in the brief moment before he falls into his release. "Please." 

And despite the way he knows you can't, you hold both sides of his face and press your forehead to his. And you whisper out, "Always." 

His head clouds with his orgasm then and it's all he can do to bury his nose in the crook of your neck and groan aloud as pleasure sears through his body like acid. He finishes inside of you, feeling the warmth of his release fill you. And he also feels you cum around him as your own body convulses and your lips falter on his neck, each breath devolving into a slurred moan. 

"Fuck," Rody mumbles as the both of you begin to relax. He unfurls back against the bed and takes you with him, holding you to his chest. "Fuck, you- I love you." 

It's a gamble to say it when there's no heat or pleasure or lust clouding either of your heads. And he half expects you to reject him. 

But you don't. Instead, you smile softly and reach up to brush a few strands of his hair away from his forehead. And then you press your lips to his cheek and sigh against his skin, your eyes falling shut as you whisper out, "I love you too." 

He has you for the rest of the night. On and off, round after round. There are brief moments here and there when the burning desire is finally quelled for a while and the both of you can slip into a light doze. But they never last long and sooner or later you let him have you again. And again and again and again, until dawn finally begins to break through the grimy window that overlooks the empty cityscape. 

It’s only then that Rody finally lets you slip from his arms. And you do so with an air of finality that he hates with every bone in his body. When you sit up and shuffle away from him across the bed, you do it as if it’s the last time. And when he sits up too, to watch as you begin to collect your clothes from around the room, he feels the way his heart aches so deeply in his chest. As if it’s being ripped apart. 

“Are you going immediately?” he asks when you step into the bathroom. He knows he won’t be able to handle your answer if he can see your face when you speak it. 

“Probably,” is what you say back, and Rody has to clench his jaw as hard as he can to stop himself from objecting. 

“Do you… know how long you’ll be gone?” 

The tension is suffocating because both of you know exactly what’s hanging behind his words. The chance that you won’t come back at all. But thank god you don’t mention it and thank god Rody doesn’t either. He’s not sure either of you could handle it if it happened. 

“They estimate it to be a few months at least,” you say and your voice is forcibly light. “It's intel mostly so I need to observe them for as long as possible.”

Rody bites his tongue. The pain grounds him, and reminds him this is worse for you than it is for him. Because it’s you who has to leave, not him. And it’s you who might die, not him. Not him, not anymore. 

“I’ll miss you,” he says quietly and looks away when you reappear at the bathroom door, now fully dressed again. “And, uh, Pino will too. We’ll… we’ll be waiting when you come back.” 

He almost can’t meet your eye, even when you make your way back over to the bed and climb up onto it again, sitting with your legs crossed before him. He’s embarrassed, he’s flustered by you and by what he said. But it’s true. It’s all true. And he knows that you know that. 

“Is that a promise?” you ask him softly and he looks up again when you lean in to rest your forehead against his. Your eyes are sad in the light of the early morning but there remains something else hidden deep within them, something like - 

Something like hope. 

Rody purses his lips. Then he nods. “Of course.” 

The smile that tugs at your lips is faint. “I’m glad,” you tell him in a voice so soft it’s almost inaudible. “Thank you, Rody.” 

Rody doesn’t want your thanks. He just wants you. So he reaches out to take your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours as tightly as he can. 

“You said this was your last job, right?” he mumbles to you. When you nod in confirmation his jaw clenches for a moment. Then he says, “So, once you get back…. You’re done?” 

“I’m done,” you tell him. 

“Come live with me,” Rody asks you before he can stop himself. “Me and Roro and Lala. Come live with us.” 

You’re so silent that Rody almost thinks you’re going to turn him down. And really, it would make sense that you would - he owes you nothing and you’ve never expressed too much interest in his life outside of your bedroom anyways. 

But it's also impossible for him to miss the way your eyes begin to light up and the corners of your mouth tug upwards in a smile brighter than any he’s seen on your face in a long time. 

“Do you mean that?” you breathe out. “Would you really… want me?” 

Rody reaches for you, to pull you into a tight hug. And at the same time, Pino finally makes her reappearance from under his coat. She flaps her way over to you to perch on your shoulder and then you begin to giggle as she rubs her head lovingly up against the soft skin of your cheek. 

“Please,” Rody mumbles into your hair, as he desperately wills his voice not to shake. “It’s all I want. As long as you come back to me.” Then he pulls back a little to stare deep into your eyes, his nose bumping yours. And in a low voice, he mumbles, “Stay with me.” 

And in just as low of a voice, you reply, “Always.”