#guys. guys. have you seen the recent clamp posts

[sumeragi-hokuto]

Set 2 of chapter 3, volume 4 of the Tokyo Babylon manga. 9th chapter overall.

Cleaning/typesetting done by me, official Dark Horse translation used.

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[erin-bo-berin]

Prove It

MASTERLIST

This was an anon request of Spencer getting mad at being teased and being motivated enough to prove he’s not vanilla. This took forever from the time it was first requested for me to write and post it, so I’m so sorry to the anon who requested it. It feels like it’s been FOREVER since I’ve posted a smut too, so enjoy some smutty Spencer to start your week. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut, rough sex)

Word Count: 4,246

“I will never understand it.”

“Understand what?” you asked.

You sat down in one of the chairs in the jet, across from coworker and teammate Derek Morgan.

You and the team you were a part of, the Behavioral Analysis Unit—BAU for short—of the FBI had just solved another case and were on the way home.

You’d seen plenty of sickos before, so another one didn’t seem to surprise you. Of course, it was disgusting and aggravating, horrifying and awful, but you never pretended to understand unsubs in the first place. So you were quite curious about what Morgan was thinking out loud about.

Spencer Reid plopped down in the chair next to you with his cup of coffee.

How the man managed to live off coffee and actually go to sleep was a mystery to you. At this point it would benefit him to just have his coffee injected into him through IV, that’s how much he consumed.

“This S&M stuff,” Morgan waved his hand, “It’s insane.”

The case they’d just recently closed had involved a guy who had taken his violent sexual desires a step too far and found himself turned on by actually murdering women. Whether it was by choking or gagging, somehow he’d discovered he got a sexual release from killing his female partners.

What started as auto erotic asphyxiation—something that was incredibly dangerous to begin with—had turned to something more sinister and even more deadly.

“When done right, it’s actually not as bad as some of these unsubs make us believe,” Spencer said.

“I’m sure you know all about it, don’t you kid?” Morgan replied, sarcastically.

“Anyway,” he continued, before Spencer could cut in again, “I’m not judging people who do it, it just seems like even when it’s done right, it’s too dangerous to even be exciting. It’d be a mood killer for me.”

“Oh don’t tell me you don’t bring out your dominant side every once and awhile,” you smirked, teasing him.

“Hey, I’m all for some good rough sex. I’m not as vanilla as pretty boy here, but I’m not about to emotionally and physically scar Savannah.”

“Hey! What’s that’s supposed to mean?!” Spencer protested.

Savannah was Morgan’s wife, now of three years. They had a son together, Hank. Being a parent according to Morgan, you didn’t get much “mommy and daddy time”, but even then, it didn’t stop him from shamelessly sharing details about his sex life. You got used to it; it was just a Derek thing anyway.

“Sure, I’ve done some tying up and spanking, but that’s mild compared to some practices in BDSM. I once asked Reid about it and unfortunately learned more than I ever wanted to about it.”

“Excuse me,” Spencer broke in, “What’s the vanilla remark supposed to mean?”

Both yours and Derek’s heads turned to see Spencer’s brows furrowed.

“Kid, vanilla ice cream is spicier than you,” Morgan teased.

“Oh come on, that’s not true!” Spencer retorted, exasperated.

“I’m sorry Reid, I just can’t imagine you being kinky. I mean do you just spout facts during sex or what?”

You held back a snicker although you heard the rest of the team chuckling.

“No, I don’t,” Spencer flushed.

You averted your eyes from his gaze.

You and Spencer had been dating for a little while, the team none the wiser to your relationship. You couldn’t quite defend him without giving it away.

It wasn’t really a secret per se, you just mutually decided not to say anything until it became more serious. You had only slept together a few times anyway, so it wasn’t like you were familiar with his sexual proclivities.

“You’re more vanilla than Vanilla Ice,” Morgan joked, making you choke on your sip of water, laughing.

“How would you know anyway?” Spencer crossed his arms, his face now a deep red, “I could be kinkier than you know.”

“Dude, when’s the last time you even slept with a girl?” Morgan asked with a raised brow, “Wasn’t it that bartender Austin from a case 11 years ago?”

Spencer pressed his lips together tightly. He wasn’t going to say anything and you knew it because it would give away yours and his personal business.

“That’s what I thought. Vanilla,” Derek laughed, standing to refill his tumbler with more whiskey, “Don’t worry Pretty Ricky, not everyone has to be an animal in bed.”

He patted Spencer’s shoulder as he walked by to head to the back of the jet—and the whiskey decanter.

You could tell by Spencer’s pursed lips that he was annoyed.

You promised yourself that when the jet landed, you would apologize.

•

You had been wrong.

Spencer wasn’t annoyed.

He was pissed.

“Spencer, I’m sorry,” you repeated for the hundredth time.

Once the jet had landed, everyone went their separate ways, so no one was the wiser when you’d climbed into Spencer’s car. You had spent more time at his place lately than your own, so you were heading back to his apartment with him.

The entire drive was filled with tense silence. His jaw stayed clenched all the way home.

“Spence, please talk to me. If I hurt your feelings, that wasn’t my intention.”

You followed him into his apartment, watching as he sat down his go bag and satchel by the door. You sat your own things near his, as well.

You didn’t miss how tense he was, indicating his anger.

“Spence-” you began, but got cut off by his sharp tone.

“Go into the bedroom, take off all your clothes and get on the bed,” he snapped.

You were taken back, unsure if you’d heard him right the first time.

“What?”

“I said, go into the bedroom, take off all your clothes and get on the bed. I won’t repeat myself. And don’t make me do it myself cause you will regret it.”

You stood frozen in place for a second, your mouth opening and closing. By the look on his face, you could tell he was serious. 

“O-Okay,” you stammered, walking backwards to the bedroom.

You had no idea what he had planned, but deep down, you could feel the tingle of excitement beginning to work its way to the surface. Maybe some rough sex would ease his anger.

You were out of your shirt and pants before you reached the bed. You pulled off your bra, letting it fall from your fingertips and then rid your underwear before climbing onto the bed like you were asked to do, laying back.

It was at least a good ten minutes before Spencer came into the room, with something in each hand.

“What’s that?”

He didn’t answer you. 

He sat what appeared to be a glass of ice on the nightstand and grabbed one of your wrists, starting to tie it to the bedpost with what you now realized was one of his ties.

You watched as he tied the opposite one before you spoke.

“Spence, I-”

“Quiet. I don’t want to hear another word from you unless I say to speak,” he growled, climbing onto the bed, hovering over you.

His face lingered above yours, his lips not far from your own. He didn’t kiss you yet, but you could feel his warm breath fanning over your face, the anticipation of his lips finally being on yours making you anxious. 

His nose nudged yours gently as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes lidded, although they occasionally flicked up toward yours. He knew how much you wanted him to kiss you and he was using that to his advantage.

Finally, it came, feather light. It was like kissing a cloud, the faint touch not nearly enough to satiate your needs. You tried to lean upwards to meet his lips again, taking what you wanted, what you needed, but he pulled out of your reach, a wicked smirk on his face.

“Oh so this is how it’s going to be?” you mock pouted.

“My bed, my rules,” he answered.

The anticipation of this kiss made your heart race and your breath hitch. If he was willing enough to deprive you this easily and this early on, what else was he capable of?

When his lips finally met yours, it was in a surprisingly gentle manner, considering you were currently tied to his bedposts. His mouth glided along with yours, the intensity picking up rather quickly. 

His hunger and anger seemed to meld into one as he kissed you roughly, pulling back enough to capture your lower lip between his, his teeth softly scraping over it. A small, satisfied sigh emitted from you, against his lips.

Your mouth parted as you continued to enjoy the feel of his mouth on yours, his tongue being both graceful and teasing at the same time, it moving swiftly over your bottom lip.

You were already struggling with your restraints, wanting to touch him as he kissed you. Normally, your touch was everywhere on him when you kissed. From his face to his shoulders and chest and in his curls, you ravished being able to touch him. But you didn’t have that luxury right now and it was absolutely killing you.

He pulled away, lips hovering over your jaw as he kissed it just slightly, ready to move on to other areas.

“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll have more than enough proof that I’m anything but vanilla,” he whispered huskily, placing a kiss against your throat.

Your thighs clamped inadvertently as you suddenly became even more turned on than you had been previously. He reached over you, towards the ice, grabbing a cube.

You watched him intently, gasping sharply when the shock of cold touched your skin, just along your collarbone.

“You gonna be a good girl and do what I say?” he asked, sliding the ice cube along your chest.

You nodded eagerly, biting down on your lip as he moved the ice over the swell of your breast and across your nipple making them tighten, both from the cold and your arousal. His lips followed the trail of ice over your breasts, tongue moving out to encircle your nipple and flick it. He repeated it on the opposite side and you gave a moan of approval at his explorations.

A trail of water was left behind on your skin as he continued on, gliding the ice down the middle of your chest towards your stomach. You felt goosebumps prickle your skin at the continuous icy cold sensation.

“You’re so hot, you’re making the ice melt quickly,” he purred.

His touch left you as he reached back towards the nightstand to grab another cube. Apparently he’d been right, as the first cube had melted completely. 

Once the coolness touched your skin again you found yourself gasping. As tantalizing as this teasing was, you were extremely turned on by it. You could feel the heat within your body, your core already starting to pulsate with arousal.

“I really hate that I can’t touch you,” you groaned, tugging on your restraints.

“But that’s what makes it fun, sweetheart,” he grinned, placing a kiss on your stomach.

The ice cube moved down one of your sides, over your hip, where he gave it a playful squeeze. Then the cold hit the top of your thighs, his other hand gliding to the top of the opposite one.

You were desperate at the point and automatically widened the space between your legs. If anything, you were going to let him get a good view of just how wet you were.

His eyes flickered downwards then back up towards your face, a satisfied smirk on his lips. You squirmed, anxious for him to do anything.

“Problem, love?” he cooed.

You glared, arching your hips in an attempt to get some sort of contact.

He chuckled, spreading your legs further. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the ice moving over your outer lips definitely wasn’t it.

You hissed at the sudden cold, but you didn’t hate it at all. Not like you hated these fucking restraints. You cursed when he pressed it against your clit.

“Fuck, that feels good,” you moaned.

He hummed, looking up at you through his lashes. You groaned in frustration, throwing your head back against the pillow, tugging at your bound wrists again.

You wanted to push his head or his hands to your throbbing core; maybe both at this rate.

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered.

“Okay,” he relented, sitting back on his heels, “You’ve been a good girl so far.”

He reached over you, pulling the knotted ties loose from around your wrists. It was like sweet freedom to you. 

Before you could even touch him, he’d taken a hold of you, rolling you over so you were straddling his stomach.

“Ooh, I’m in control? I like,” you grinned, leaning down to kiss him.

You didn’t quite make it to his lips.

“Think again.”

He grabbed the back of your thighs, roughly pulling you up to sit on his face. This, you hadn’t suspected.

“Oh god,” you moaned lowly as his tongue slid up your outer lips.

His hands held your thighs tightly and he wasted no time diving right in. His tongue flicked your clit and you had to grab a hold of the headboard just to make sure you didn’t collapse on top of him.

Of course oral sex had been a part of your sex life with Spencer prior to this, but never in this way. He was usually more timid about it. But right now, he went for it in a very enthusiastic manner.

“Fuck, Spence.”

You groaned, his lips circling your clit to suck on it briefly before releasing it with a tiny pop of his mouth. His tongue flicked over it again, alternating in speed and pressure.

You had thought it couldn’t get any better until you felt a finger slide into you. You could’ve sworn you almost lost your mind at that point. His finger slowly pumped in and out of you, matching the now slower speed of his tongue that seemed to be licking everywhere but your clit.

“Dammit Spencer,” you groaned, slightly grinding against his mouth for some friction.

You jerked a bit, a surprised squeal coming from you when his hand came down on your ass. It wasn’t a bad reaction though, it had just excited you even more.

“Did you just spank me?!” you asked incredulously.

He hummed, sending a delicious vibration against your clit as his hand came down again on your ass making you moan loudly.

You had no idea there was this side to him.

“Fuck, Spencer, yes baby,” you whined, your hips moving back and forth over his face as his fingers and tongue drove you crazy.

The faster his fingers went, the harder his tongue moved. You were gripping the headboard so tight, your knuckles were white.

“Ah!” you squealed, at an additional spank.

It wasn’t hard enough to be too rough and painful, just hard enough to be incredibly sexy, sending a charge directly to your currently, extremely stimulated clit.

It was also incredibly appealing to you to feel the slight scratch of his facial hair against your nether regions as he ravished you. 

You could feel your entire body tensing, preparing for the rush of adrenaline and ecstasy. Apparently, Spencer could too.

He worked you until you came shattering apart above him. His name mixed with a loud moan and curses sprinkled in.

When the high had ebbed a bit, he moved you back to sit on his stomach, a wolfish grin on his face. You still felt a bit dazed since there was still a bit of buzz left tingling within you.

You noticed then that your boyfriend was way overdressed.

“It’s time to do something about these,” you mumbled, unbuttoning his dress shirt, “You’ve got too many clothes on.”

He allowed you to pull his shirt off, but his hand grabbed yours just as they reached for his belt.

“I am going to fuck you bent over my desk and only bent over my desk.”

He gave you no time to react as he’d already lifted you in his arms and stood from the bed, heading to the living room.

“Spencer, what? I-”

The words died on your lips as he entered the living room and his desk came into view. Normally, it was stacked neatly with his books, files, paperwork that he needed to complete, pens, pencils, a couple of coffee mugs, the works. But now, it was completely clear, showing off its deep, dark brown, glossy desktop.

Heat pooled in your stomach when you realized he’d planned ahead for this. He’d imagined bending you over his desk, having his way with you. You swallowed back a moan, already eager for him to be buried inside of you.

Instead of immediately pushing you over the edge of the desk, he sat you on top of it, facing him.

You bit your lip, quite literally looking up through your lashes at him. His tongue moved over his lips, his hunger for you apparent as his hands traced every inch of you.

From your breasts, down your stomach, to your thighs and around towards your bottom, squeezing it gently, his hands traveled every part of you before capturing your mouth in another kiss.

It was no innocent kiss. It was fiery and filled with the mutual hunger for one another. He was still kissing you when he slid you off the desktop, your feet touching the floor once again.

He turned you and had you bent over the edge of his desk in a matter of seconds. You heard the clink and whir of his belt as he unbuckled it, the sound alone sending a charge through you.

You shifted impatiently, much to his notice. He smirked, running a hand between your legs teasingly, as he pushed his suit pants out of the way with the other hand.

He wasted no time on gentle and loving movements. He entered you roughly and quite honestly, when you weren’t expecting it.

You whimpered. The feeling of your most intimate parts stretching just enough to accommodate him was one of the best feelings in the world to you. 

By this point, you’d lost the ability to be quiet. He’d already brought you to one earth shattering orgasm and that was after the tantalizing ice foreplay that had turned you on beyond belief.

Your constant moans filled the room as your hands gripped the edges of the desk.

Your hips were tight in his grip as he thrust into you fast and hard, your own body bouncing off his in the opposite direction. He, for one, was much louder than he normally was. Grunts, groans, mumbled curses and pants came from behind you as he had his way with you.

His lips hovered over your neck, his appraising moans ringing in your ears.

“Fucking shit, fuuuck, Y/N,” he groaned before attaching his lips to your neck.

He sucked harshly, hard enough to know that hickies would be present for the next few days.

You inhaled sharply, feeling the slight sting of his teeth bearing down into your shoulder, but coupled with your current pleasure, it was actually hot.

Your back arched as he focused on what he’d learned—quite quickly, you might add—was one of your absolute sweet spots, his hips aiding in thrusting deeply within you.

Spencer’s hand snaked up your spine, tangling in your hair, his fingers wrapping around a few strands. It surprised you when he pulled on it, firm enough to pull your head to the side. You moaned at the sensation, ready for him to do anything at this point. You were so turned on, you were a moaning, whimpering mess underneath him.

“Still. Think. I’m. Vanilla?”

Each of his words were clipped, growled into your ear and enunciated with a forceful thrust.

“No,” you rasped, quickly losing control of yourself and becoming delirious from the ecstasy he was providing you with.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he grunted, halting his movements completely.

You about sobbed in agony, wanting the feel of him back. Your hips automatically moved backwards to get some more friction, but Spencer held them still.

“Tell me,” he groaned, the slight strain in his voice indicating he was struggling with keeping still, himself.

You cursed, craving the delicious sensation of him deep within you again especially since you were on the brink of shattering like broken glass.

“Who’s not vanilla?” Spencer taunted.

He began moving once again, his motions slow and teasing. He slid in and out of you with long, lackadaisical thrusts although he made sure each move was deep enough so you could feel every inch of him within you. 

“Dammit Spencer, please,” you mewled, encircling your hips in small movements.

His low groan that came from above you was telling enough that he was trying and failing to keep his cool.

“Answer me,” he murmured huskily, his lips traveling up your back, hands reaching forward to massage your breasts in his hands.

“Answer me,” he repeated, “And I’ll fuck you like you deserved to be fucked.”

Your mouth dropped, a haggard moan escaping your throat. You weren’t used to hearing Spencer dirty talk and you’d realized that you instantly loved it.

His facial hair scratched your cheek as his mouth moved in the vicinity of it, sucking on your jaw.

“Be a good girl and answer me and I promise I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll see stars, baby girl,” his low whisper came, one hand gliding between your legs, finger ghosting your clit.

“I’ll make you cum harder than you even imagined. Until you’re dripping all over my cock. I wanna fuck my girl, good, Spencer purred.

“Oh my god,” you cried, the overstimulation of his words and his touch finally getting you to lose absolute control of your conscious mind.

“You, Spencer, you,” you moaned.

The only sounds that filled his living room were the mixed moans and the sound of your bodies moving together as he fulfilled his promise and resumed his earlier pace though more erratic this time.

Your inadvertent clenching around him with every move was making him lose control quickly. 

“Fuck, fuuuuck,” you whined, clenching the edges of the desk so hard you knew your hands would be sore later.

In the back of your mind, a small part of you registered that you most likely sounded akin to a pornstar right now, though you didn’t spend much time on the thought. The fire in your veins was igniting the growing pressure in your stomach, like a furnace growing too hot.

It took less than a few moves before you went tumbling over the cliff of ecstasy. Your eyes screwed shut, your vision going completely white behind your closed eyes as you managed out a satisfied, bliss filled cry.

It was like lightning had struck your body except the electricity had come straight from the pit of your belly. Spencer had been right, it was the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced.

It was the body shaking, breathtaking, best kind of high ever, type of intense.

His own had soon followed as you’d tumbled down the rabbit hole of your own delirium. His hands gripped your sides and his body shuddered behind yours.

“Y/N, Y/N,” he groaned repeatedly, still moving with you, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of both of your orgasms.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck as you arched back into him, reaching behind him to grip his hair as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

It took a few moments before both of you stilled, your breathing hard, heart beating wildly. 

When your senses had somewhat turned to normal and the rushing of your blood in your ears had calmed down, you noticed your legs shaking—a definite sign of a good fucking.

You felt his breath on your neck, his breathlessness matching your own. Your body felt slick against his from all of the exertion, but it had been totally worth it. 

Spencer pushed your hair to one side of your neck, burying his face into your neck sweetly before leaving a gentle kiss there.

“My god, Spencer,” you half laughed, trying to focus the tiny bit of energy you had left on attempting to stand.

Disconnecting himself from you, he turned you to face him. He lifted you back on to the desktop to sit, not caring that your thighs were currently slick with the product of his own orgasm. Your quivering legs were thankful for the momentary reprieve though.

“I know,” he smirked, “Didn’t know I had it in me, huh?”

“Definitely not,” you smirked, lifting your face up towards his.

Your lips met his lazily. You spent a few minutes enjoying one other, mouths parting and meeting over and over, enjoying the post coital consequential kisses before getting cleaned up.

His hands splayed over the tops of your thighs, stroking gently. He may have been rough with you earlier, but you knew his gentle touch was him wordlessly assuring himself you were okay.

You were actually more than okay—you had definitely been well fucked.

“Spencer?” you mumbled against his lips.

“Hmm?”

He pulled away from you, his eyes opening, his dreamy, currently hazy, hazel eyes meeting yours. 

“Remind me to never listen to Morgan ever again.”

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[saintshigaraki]

when you break my heart, do it softly

pairing: gender neutral reader x dabi 

work count: 1.5k

excerpt: A rather large part of you wonders if maybe you should’ve seen this coming. The other part of you knows that even if you had, it probably wouldn’t have changed a thing. You loved him a bit too much to walk away before you absolutely had to. 

a/n: it’s not like. super relevant but this is an au where dabi is not a wanted villain. 

tags: cheating, angst, hurt/comfort, hopeful ending, SOFT DABI

in case you’d rather read it on ao3!

A rather large part of you wonders if maybe you should’ve seen this coming. The other part of you knows that even if you had, it probably wouldn’t have changed a thing. You loved him a bit too much to walk away before you absolutely had to. 

Dabi hadn’t ever seemed like the commitment sort of guy anyway, not since the first moment you met him when he had been incessantly flirting with you and two other girls at the same bar you were trying and failing to manage. It was your first night on the job and it was a seedy place crawling with even seedier people but you needed the money and work was work. 

At least that’s what you told yourself when Dabi’s flirting got more and more annoying. It was hard to focus with him breathing down your fucking neck. You told him as much. You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth because while you don’t know who he is, an awfully annoying voice in the back of your head whispered perhaps you shouldn’t piss off the scarred up man who just minutes ago was demonstrating just how hot his flames can get. 

You and Dabi stood completely still and silent for a few long seconds, an uncapped beer freezing through your palm and his glowing blue eyes narrowed and burning straight through your skull. 

The urge to trip over your words and backtrack was almost impossible to ignore, almost. But you had shit to do and this job was already stressing you the fuck out and you’re two seconds away from being evicted so this needs to work out so it would be nice if he backed the fuck off for just a single second. 

So, instead of groveling at his feet, you stuck your chin out, took a deep breath and calmly said, “Look, you’re very, very attractive, and trust me, at any other time I’d be so flattered and into this, but it’s my first night and I’m struggling just a bit so can you please give me a minute.”

He was silent for a few seconds before his lips curled up into an awfully too pleased and cocky smile revealing a pair of shockingly white teeth and weirdly sharp canines. 

“You think I’m hot, doll?” 

The tension between you two melted completely.

You groaned but only to hide the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips. 

(He saw it anyway.

Later, in the early hours of the morning, he asked for your number. You gave it to him because you were a little dumb and he was a little too beautiful and surprisingly funny in a strange morbid violent lovely sort of way. 

You thought this is dangerous. Not necessarily because he was dangerous-though you didn’t doubt that he most definitely was- but because as he smiled down at you with his crooked grin that made him look more boyish than villainous, you thought that’d he’d be so, so easy to fall in love with. And that he’d break your heart for it. 

You were right, of course. But fuck if it didn’t hurt all the same because of it) 

+

A year and a half later, standing in you and Dabi’s shared apartment, you’re forced to see the truth in your own damning words. 

He had stripped off his shirt, getting ready for bed and for as strong as you’d like to believe you are, you can’t contain the wounded sound that escapes your mouth before you clamp your lips together. 

He whips around but the damage is done. There are claw marks down his back, ones you most definitely had not left. 

You both stare at each other, something so heavy and awful hanging in the space between you two. 

Vaguely, it reminds you of the night you and Dabi met. Though thinking about that does nothing but rub salt in the wound, so you push it away and bury it deep. 

He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off. 

“I love you, Dabi. I want you to know that. I love you so much. And I always will.”

The words are so heartbreakingly true. 

You actually did end up getting evicted after that fateful night at the bar and even though you and Dabi had been dating for only 4 months at that point, he’d offered you his home and let you get back on your feet before paying rent. He knew exactly how to comfort you on the days where everything felt a bit too much like it was caving in, and you had held him as he sobbed so hard he’d heaved, more times than you could count. 

You had seen the worst and best in each other. Bared your wounds so sweetly at such a formative time in your lives. How could you not love him? How could you not care for him for the rest of your life? 

Of course, it hurt that he’d fucked another person, it broke your heart so completely, but the idea of being mad, of screaming at him, and throwing shit and causing a mess didn’t even cross your mind, because deep down, you thought, perhaps it is time to move on. Perhaps you both need something different right now. 

You had gotten a job offer in America some time ago and you hadn’t taken it because of Dabi. Because you loved him and he was here. You had recently gotten an email that it was still on the table. It’d be a good opportunity for you. A great one actually. 

It was time to move on, you realized. To grow as people, separately. 

Dabi is the one to drive you to the airport. It’s a little strange, you’ll admit, but everything about what happened post the claw marks incident was a little strange. You’d stayed in his apartment after everything. Three weeks of skin-crawling awkwardness tinged with unspoken hurt. 

It didn’t feel awkward now, though. As he stood outside his car with his hands in his pockets staring at you like you’re bound to turn to dust if he looks away. 

You set your suitcase down gently and approach him, until you’re mere inches apart. He says nothing. You don’t either. 

Instead, you wrap your arms around him and hug him. He’s stone still and just as you’re about to let go he returns it so tightly that you’re nearly crushed against his chest. You can’t help but laugh a little. His hold has always been a bit painful (but only in the sweetest way). 

“I love you,” he murmurs into your hair. 

You laugh again, light and sweet because you love him as well. So much it hurts. 

“I love you, too.”

+

A few weeks after getting to America you change your number and don’t tell Dabi. Because even though you love him, you think you might hate him a little too. And you’d rather let it go before hate is all you have of him. 

+

You return to Japan a year and a half later. They offered you a transfer and you took it. Going to America was an important and needed step in your life, but in your bones, you feel the truth of it. It’s time to go home. 

+

The night you land back in Japan, you go to the same bar you met Dabi in. Partly for the nostalgia, partly because you did genuinely love your boss, but mostly because you knew you’d get a discount. 

You’re on your second vodka and coke when he comes in. You don’t even have to turn around to know. You feel it deep in your chest, a sweet ache in your bones. 

He sits next to you and for a moment neither of you say anything. Not until you turn to look at him. At first glance, it’s as though nothing has changed about him. Same jacket, same dyed hair, same scars, but something in his eyes is different. Older, maybe, though it’s only been a year. And he holds himself a bit differently as well. 

You like it. 

You tell him as much. 

He gives you that same too-pleased cocky smile that you first saw what felt like lifetimes ago. 

“You think I’m hot, doll?”

You groan to hide a smile tugging at the corner of your lip. 

He sees it anyway. 

You wonder if history really is bound to repeat itself. But you look at him and all his minute differences, and think, maybe not. And perhaps you’re too hopeful, and maybe a little dumb, but when you walk out of the bar with him and he gives you that boyish smile, you’re not as sure that he’ll break your heart this time around. 

And when he’s kissing his way down your neck and whispering, I love you, I love you, I love you, like a prayer, and his tears leave a trail on your skin, it’s hard to not return the sentiment. 

You love him. Of course you do. How could you not? 

You tell him as much. 

Perhaps this is a mistake. Perhaps it isn’t. Loving someone is always a risk, sometimes it feels like you’re setting your heart up to be broken. 

But, this is worth the risk, you think. It always has been. 

[r0zyp0zy0zy]

✾K.E.- Dirty Secret☼✶

Masterlist

Words: 2400

Warnings: oral, masterbation, accidental voyeurism, body worship, Kiri just lusting over you

Pairing: Kirishima Eijiro x FEM!reader

Summary: Kirishima has a dirty secret, and you accidentally find out what it is

Here you are! Hope you like it :) {also I’m posting this on mobile so I hope the formatting isn’t too weird}

===NSFW UNDER THE CUT===

Kirishima Eijiro didn't have very many dirty secrets he didn't tell you about, but this one was a dirty, dirty secret. You, under any and all circumstances, could not know about this particular secret. Period. He felt so ashamed and unmanly about it that he couldn't even tell Bakugo about it.

Kirishima knew you since the first year of UA, and he had taken a liking to you quite quickly. He only realized that he fell hard for you when you nearly got kidnapped along with Bakugo when the LOV attacked at the training camp. That wasn't the main secret, but another secret he was keeping from you nonetheless. Hormones are such a bitch sometimes, and his boy brain, riddled with depression and anxiety, had come to realize that you were very sexually appealing to him. It was actually kinda sad when the soft moans of your name left his lips every other night, but he couldn't help it.

You were just so damn attractive.

Immediately after his sessions, post orgasm clarity haunted his thoughts. He felt so bad about it, and sometimes when the guilt was too much he had to take away his own masturbation rights for a week. He would also give you little (apology) gifts so he wouldn't feel as bad. But he couldn't stop. He tried, he really did, to watch porn. He even matched the actress to your looks! But it didn't work. The horny monsters in his brain weren't fooled.

Being in the dorms was a bit of a hassle. The walls were thin, noise outside his room was eminent, and people tended to barge in whenever they pleased. So it was rare that he would reach down his pants unless it was in the middle of the night when no one was to disturb him. But today, most of the guys were out to the gym (Kirishima liked to call them gym dates, but Bakugo didn't like that all too much), and the corridor outside his room was void of loud noises. He had flaked because he was desperately hard due to his past week of guilt, and he needed relief as soon as he was able.

"Fuck," Kirishima mumbled as he cupped his groin. He pulled up your most recent Instagram post on his phone, and bit his lip.

It didn't matter if you were doing anything suggestive in your photo, because just seeing your face was enough. But holy, this picture was speaking to him on another wavelength. You were on your balcony (the caption was some shit about missing being home), and the sun shone off of your hair. He always loved it when you posted full body photos, or at least his dick did. He swiped through your post, a long whistle leaving his lips when he came across a picture with your tongue out.

Kirishima popped the button on his shorts and dragged down the zipper, giving him some breathing room. He slid down his boxers along with his shorts, letting them pool at his ankles. His cock twitched, drooling clear pre-cum. He wasted no time collecting it on his finger, and he spread it across his glans. A low groan escaped his lips as he impatiently rutted his hips upwards, sending a shiver down his spine.

He scrolled to the next photo, and he choked on a gasp. You were in a two-piece bathing suit, (a rare sight for him), and your hips were accentuated by the high waisted bottoms. Your bikini top was tiny, and your back was arched in a laugh. He quickly screenshotted it, scared that you might archive the post at any moment. He was getting into a nice rhythm, and he balanced his phone on his bedpost. His feet were still tangled with his shorts when he leaned down and rutted against his comforter. His shoulders were touching his mattress and his knees were planted, ass slightly lifted, giving himself enough room to grip his cock in his hand.

"God, fuck, you're so beautiful," he moaned, flicking his wrist. Kirishima didn't process the door opening and he continued to thrust into his hand, letting a guttural moan slip past his lips. He buried his nose into his pillow, and scrunched his eyes shut. "Shit, y/n. Juuust like that, baby."

"K-Kirishima-?" You stuttered, stood frozen at his door with a container of cookies in your hands.

His eyes immediately shot open, connecting with yours in an uncomfortable stare. He swore under his breath, and fumbled to shuffle his quilt around himself, dropping his phone on the floor in the process.

"I— uhm. I just—," Kirishima panicked, reaching for his phone, which was facing up. He prayed to every god that you hadn't seen your face on his screen, and he shut off his phone as quickly as he could. "I'm not a pervert I swear!!"

You laid down the cookies on his desk, and closed the door behind you. "Were you— were you doing what I thought you were doing?"

"D-depends..." he stuttered, "er— yes. I was uh, jerking off..."

"Not that part," you mumbled. "I meant like.. what you were looking at on your phone." Your face was just as flushed as his, and you couldn't believe that you forgot to knock before coming into your crush's room.

Kirishima's face paled in fear, and he scrambled to explain himself, "sorry! I am so sorry, y/n. That was so unmanly of me, a-and I know I don't have the— I know that I can't— I just, ugh. I'm so disgusting for that, and you can hit me as hard as you want. I don't deserve to be a hero—."

"Woah, woah, take a deep breath, Kiri-kun!" you waved your hands at him. "Calm down, don't panic. I'm not gonna run away."

He felt tears wetting his eyelashes, and he took a breath like you said. He realized that he was shaking in embarrassment and fear. He pulled his fingers through his hair and took a few more deep breaths, keeping his eyes glued to the floor.

"I- I just-," Kirishima collected himself, "yes. It's exactly what you think. I get that you probably hate me and everything now—."

"Hey, hey," you interrupted, clamping a hand over his mouth before you could think. "I don't hate you, Kiri. Far from it, actually. I'm honoured that you think I'm attractive enough to, y'know..." you pulled your hand away from his face, and he looked up at you in disbelief and hope.

"T-that was still gross of me..." Kirishima dragged.

"Not really. Well— ok, if it was anyone else it would've been weird," you flushed.

Kirishima looked up at you with round eyes, wishing that meant you liked him back. He couldn't help but steal glances at your lips, and he got reminded that yes, he was in fact still hard. His dick twitched as he thought of you leaning forward and kissing him, straddling his lap.

"I can't think straight right now," Kirishima breathed, imagining you in your bikini in front of him. Oh how he'd run his hands down the sides of your beautiful body...

"That's ok, I wouldn't expect you to," you assured, not really knowing what to do with yourself in this moment. In all honesty, you swelled with pride at the fact that Kirishima, your crush, liked you back. In your Instagram post, you had snuck the last picture in just for him, (even if he didn't know it). You were feeling confident in the photo, and courage ran through your veins.

"How long?" You asked, kneeling in front of Kirishima to lock eyes with him.

"—wha..?" Kiri shook his head to clear away his daydream, blushing hard when he realized your position.

"How long have you been... jerking off to me?" You asked again shyly.

Kirishima choked on his spit, not expecting your question, "uh, probably around the training camp a couple years back..." he said bashfully. He didn't want to mention the part where he saw you in just a towel when he was trying to drag Mineta from the girls' bathing rooms.

"That long, huh?" You giggled nervously. "C-can you show me what you do when you think about me?"

Kirishima's eyebrows shot up into his hairline, and his piercing red eyes locked onto your e/c ones. He nodded shakily, slowly peeling away his blanket. He looked away in embarrassment as he gripped his leaking cock and pumped his length a few times, swallowing his moans. He glanced back over to you through his bangs, and his breath hitched when he saw that your shirt was off. Your bra was mediocre; just a casual black. Kirishima wanted to know if you matched your panties with them, and he squeaked out a groan.

"T-this is ok, right?" You questioned sheepishly, trying not to make direct eye contact with his pretty cock.

"Fuck yeah," the red head whispered, grazing his eyes over your exposed skin. His wandering eyes made you cower a little, and you questioned your bravery.

You slid your hands around your stomach in a movement that was supposed to be unnoticeable, but Kiri grabbed your forearms to pull them away.

"S-sorry!" He panicked, "I just— don't want you to feel embarrassed in front of me. Here, is it ok if we switch positions?"

He smiled once you nodded, and he helped you onto his bed. His cheeks hurt from smiling, but he couldn't stop. He was now sat between your legs, and he gently pulled them apart.

"It's only fair if you get naked too, right?" Kirishima's lip quirked as he ran his hands along your thighs. He slid off your pants/skirt once you agreed, and he gulped anxiously. He had never been this close to you before, and it was nerve wracking. You were so much more gorgeous up close.

Kirishima scooted closer to your pelvis, and he tried to ignore his twitching cock. He focused on leaning up, and he gave you a sweet peck on the lips. You smiled shyly and leaned in again for another, and this time he needily sucked on your lower lip. His hands snaked around to your back, and fiddled with your bra clasp. He didn't want to tear his lips from yours, but he desperately wanted your bra off. Kirishima jumped a bit when he felt your hands on his, and he was about to pull away and apologize. Instead of swatting him away, you gripped the clasp and undid it yourself. He pulled away from the kiss only to watch you teasingly slip the bra straps off of your shoulders. When the piece of clothing hit the floor, he let you guide his big hands to your breasts. He gently squeezed, experimenting with his movements.

Kirishima loved the way you moaned gently at his touch, smiling and biting his lip, "you're so, so beautiful, y/n-chan. I can't believe this is happening..."

"Kiri," you whimpered, "do you really think so?"

"Of course!" He smiled up at you, "even when I just thought of you as a friend a few years ago. But being up close like this, you're even more pretty."

You smiled shakily at Kirishima, and put your hands over his. He leaned closer to kiss you again, finding peace with your lips. His cock jumped, reminding him that he was staining his blanket with pre-cum.

"Fuck, y/n, can I taste you? You smell so good," he growled, looking up at you while fiddling with your underwear. Kiri's cheeks were flushed adorably, and his teeth gently bit his lower lip.

"Please Kiri," you whispered, spreading your legs a little more.

"Call me Eijiro," he said gruffly, pulling down your panties as fast as he could without hurting you. "Please."

"Shit, Eijiro," you gasped as he leaned you back, gliding his fingers over your folds. He gave you a soft kiss before going back down and licking a stripe up your heat, flicking your clit a few times.

"Goddamn you taste so much better than I imagined, babe," he grinned up at you, sliding one of his fingers inside of your flower. He added another one quickly after, enjoying your pleased moans immensely. He suckled on your clit harshly, burring his face deeper between your legs.

"E-eiji," you whimpered, gripping the roots of his hair tightly, pulling him closer as you desperately ground your pelvis against his tongue. Your face was buzzing with warmth, and your mouth couldn't be kept shut. "Please, please that feels so good~."

"Yeah, you like that, babe?" Eijiro grumbled, "does my beautiful girl feel good because of this tongue? Yeah, fuck y/n you taste so good," he growled against your pussy, fingers still shoving in and out of your sopping hole, "god, your noises sound so fucking cute."

"Hah~," you cried loudly, legs shaking and clenching as Kiri ravished your cunt. "E-eij-Eijiro! Oh shit, Eiji I'm so c-close!"

"Mmmph," he growled louder. "Come on, babe, you can do it, cum around my fingers whenever you're ready. Fuck you're so beautiful like this."

You sobbed out his name again, blubbering 'please' and 'more' until he couldn't understand a word you were saying. "Ooh, fuckfuckfuckkk, please Eiji I'm gonna— I'm so— hah- so close!"

His head span in a rush of hormones, and he moaned harshly against your clit, pulling you over the edge with another cry leaving your lips. His slurps got quieter, and he slowed to a stop, beaming ear-to-ear at the obvious pleasure he caused you. "Holy shit, y/n. You ok? Was that good?"

"Yesss~," you groaned, limp against his mattress. "I don't think I'm gonna be able to walk for the next few hours."

"Well good thing I'm here to take care of you," Kiri leaned over you to kiss your lips, and helped you sit up. He offered you some water from his bottle, guiding your shaky hands to the cup.

"That was the best orgasm I've ever had, I swear," you sighed contently. "Give me a few and I'll help you out."

"Uh, I kinda already... dealt with it," Kirishima blushed, and you looked down to see his crumbled quilt with a puddle of semen on it. "Sorry.."

"Hm, don't be," you replied nuzzling into him. "I'll return the favour sometime soon."

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 17]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; camshow, intercrural sex, lots ‘o teasing, dirty talk/the absolute tiniest bit of degradation, some cum play/cum eating, seungcheol having a kink for thighs/thigh highs 😳😗 welcome to the weekend my bbys!! I hope yall are having a good day/night!! Also again, another inbox roundup tomorrow(also an updates post)!! 💕 Might be a regular thing for the next 4-ish weeks ‘cause I have been so busy this month 😭 and I can’t believe there’s only 3 more chapters of CB left!! 😭😭 some bangers on the way tho LMAO 🤣 As always, thank you so much for the love and support!!��💕 Have a great rest of your weekend and enjoy ch 17![cheol voice] seventeen right here 😌💕🍒 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - x - x - x

Seungcheol doubles over in laughter, tears blurring his vision as his laughs turn into quiet wheezes.

“God, this is so embarrassing.” Seokmin mutters; cheeks burning crimson when he glances over to Jeongguk who shrugs back. “Maybe I really should quit…”

Jeongguk scoffs jokingly, “Maybe you shouldn’t have lied. No offense, but all the staff here probably have at least seen her before and you just so happened to lie to her actual boyfriend. That’s honestly really lucky if you ask me! You should buy a lotto ticket!” Seokmin whines back, shifting on his heels as he watches Seungcheol start to wipe the tears away.

“Hyung, can you please take this Edible Arrangements I got you so I can go ask Namjoon-hyung to fire me?” This only causes Seungcheol to laugh harder and this time, Jeongguk can’t help the giggle that bubbles past his tightly pursed lips.

“Please!” Seokmin begs, shaking the basket of skewered fruit at the older male. “I heard the diner across down is still hiring, I can still save the rest of my dignity if I leave now!”

Seungcheol shakes his head, eyelashes wet with tears when he takes the gift from Seokmin’s hands to place it on the countertop of the concession stand. “Hate to break it to you but she works there and one of the staff is also one of her regulars so I think your best bet is workin’ here. Embarrassment and all.”

“So, okay… But you’re not mad?”

Jeongguk peels the cellophane off of the basketed fruit, looking to Seungcheol for permission before he takes a skewer. “Go ahead. And no, I’m not mad. If anything I should apologize too, I shouldn’t have let you keep lying when I already knew. But also, to be fair, we weren’t really… official ‘til recently.” Seungcheol shoots the younger male a sheepish smile; cheeks a pretty pink of their own. “And it’s kinda been nice meeting you guys too. It’s great to know you’re not all weirdos.”

Seokmin laughs lightly, breathing a sigh of relief. “Okay, cool, ‘cause this place pays really well and I’d hate to stop working here and you guys are a lot cooler than the coworkers I had before.” He rolls his eyes jokingly, leaning up against the countertop as he picks off a strawberry from the basket.

“Don’t even get me started on this coworker I had at the last place. His name was Mingyu, I think? Suuuuuch a kissass. I had to move to manning the register at all times just so I could avoid him pickin’ his nose in the backroom and then pretending like he was doin’ shit.”

“Hey, Seungcheol-hyung?”

Seokmin’s inquisitive voice has Seungcheol turning; setting the rollerskates in his hand down onto the bench. “Yeah?”

“Do you think it’s weird that we’re, like, watching your girlfriend?” He tilts his head in thought, eyes blinking up to the ceiling. “I don’t want to overstep or something if it’s weird, y’know? I’ve been thinking about what Jeongguk said earlier...”

Seungcheol grins back at him, eyes twinking. He’d also thought about that before too, when he first found out that Jeongguk had also watched your streams.

“I don’t really mind ‘cause at the end of the day, it’s you watching me fucking my girlfriend.”

“Well, I’m glad he took it… well?” You giggle, tugging the white thigh high up your leg.

Seungcheol pulls off his shirt as he sits on the edge of the bed; tossing the wrinkled material onto the floor as he laughs under his breath.

“He did give me an Edible Arrangements while I laughed so hard I cried. I think he’s learned his lesson.”

xcaliburDK: good news, i didnt quit!!

chwenon: i was gonna say

chwenon: u literally started like last week

universe_WZ has donated $75

angelhan has donated $75

therealchan99 has donated $50

therealchan99: u look rly pretty in ur white set!!!

“Aww, thank you! It’s one of my favorites~ And ‘xcaliburDK’, I’m glad you didn’t quit!” You wink at the camera, giggling softly in Seungcheol’s lap as he peppers kisses along your shoulder.

A shiver runs up your spine at his gentle touches and you easily melt under his soft kisses and roaming fingertips. He ghosts them across your breasts, teasing you through the thin lace as you mewl and squirm against his cock that’s pressed firm against your ass. “A-ah, S--Seungcheol…”

tangerine_kwan: she looks so happy now that she can call ur name out lol

alphagyu97: now i cant pretend its me tho

gentleman_josh95: i mean i guess but are u even built like him

alphagyu97: well

Your body slowly starts to fill with warmth; soft stuttered breaths falling from your lips when he drags his fingers down your torso until they play with the hem of your panties. “M-more… tease me m-more…” He grins against your shoulder; hooking a finger around the waistband of your panties and tugging it away from you before letting it snap against your skin.

“‘Cheol!” Whining, your legs snap shut on impulse as you feel a gush of wetness soaking into your panties.

“Ah, ah, ah, part those legs, princess. Don’t make me have to punish you.”

kitty_junjun: no thats what the shibari stream is for right? Right? 😩

artist8hao: is that really happening bc i want to see it

alphagyu97: u guys should do it and think of it as like a rebrand of the channel ykwim

hoshi_tiger_xx: jdfkjhf like a grand re-opening under new management

therealchan99: what is this, a restaurant?

chwenon: u guys should come up with a new channel name too or sth

Seungcheol manages to read off a few of their comments; committing some to memory knowing that your eyes were still sealed shut as you focused on his soft touches.

He drags his fingers down further, humming when he can already feel how wet you were getting. “Hmm~ Already soaked through your pretty panties, baby~” Your head rolls back against his shoulder, nodding gently as you start to grind against the fingers that he uses to press into your clothed, wet folds.

“F-feels good w-when you, ah, t-tease me…”

Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol smirks, eyes twinkling at the camera. “You really like it, huh? When I just touch you gently like this. Not enough to get you off but just enough to get you soaking wet until you’re begging for my cock.” He pauses; pressing a soft kiss to your skin. “I wanna try something with you, pretty baby~”

You gulp as you raise your head from his shoulder and he retracts his hands from your body as you shift your body and slightly turn to the side to face him.

Seungcheol’s eyes are blown wide with lust and you can already feel his cock throbbing against your lower back as he smiles dreamily at you.

“I think you’ll like it too.”

A stuttered moan falls from your lips as Seungcheol’s cock slides past your tightly clasped, yet shaky, thighs.

“O-oh, ‘Cheol, this--this is…” The words die on your tongue as your head falls forward and Seungcheol is quick to reprimand you, just as he draws his hips back.

“Baby, I want you to watch yourself on the screen. I want you to see your cute face while I tease your pretty body.” He moans; thrusting between your wet thighs as your hazy eyes peer at the laptop’s screen. Your lips are swollen and your pupils are blown wide when you catch yourself and you can see the head of Seungcheol’s cock only just breaching past your clamped thighs when he thrusts forward.

You let out a guttural moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he alternates between thrusting between your thighs and letting his cock slide against your soaked, panty-clad mound. 

He hadn’t bothered to undress you at all, but you didn’t mind. The material of your panties only added onto the pleasure with every drag of his cock against you.  

Seungcheol teases you even more; dragging his hands down to your thigh highs and letting his fingertips play right underneath the hems before pulling the material away from your thighs and letting them snap against your skin, much like he’d done with your panties.

“Ah, fuck, m-more! P-please…” He repeats the action a few more times, playing with the sheer fabric of your thigh highs before he draws his hips back. Except this time, when you expect him to thrust back between your legs, he wraps a hand around his cock instead, guiding himself until the head of his cock is rubbing up against the sheer fabric.

“Fuck, you’d look so pretty with cum all over your pretty thighs. I should cum all over your panties and your white ‘lil thigh highs and get them all soaked. Don’t you think they’d be cute? Sticking to you like a second skin? Translucent ‘n soaked through with my cum?” He laughs under his breath, watching through the laptop screen at the way you bite your lip and furrow your brows at the thought.

“I--I want t-that… I want S--Seungcheol t-to make, ngh, a m-mess…”

angelhan: i kno we say this all the time but can u upload some pics of that later

angelhan has donated $75

universe_WZ: seconded cuz thatd look so fuckin hot

universe_WZ has donated $50

alphagyu97 has donated $75

alphagyu97: fuck, like a lil angel covered in cum

Seungcheol teases you and himself at the same time; rubbing his cock against your fabric-clad thighs. He spreads precum onto the material, licking his lips when it already becomes translucent and sticks to your skin.

He positions his cock back between your thighs once he’s had his fill and quickly finds himself doubling his pace when he sees how wet you’re getting his cock without even having taken your panties off. “God, look at you. I don’t even need to fuck you to get you this wet. You just need to rub your ‘lil cunt against my cock and it’s enough for you, huh? I should make you sit on my lap, rub your pretty ‘lil pussy on my cock ‘til you’re cumming over and over again.”

“Ngh, yes! Fuck, Seungcheol! I--I can feel your c-cock throbbing between my l-legs… Please, please c-cum, mmh, all over my s-skin…”

“That’s right, baby. So fuckin’ desperate to be covered in it too. And always so fuckin’ pretty when you are.”

You let out a whimper as you try to focus on watching yourself just like Seungcheol had asked you to. Your lips are parted in soft breaths and you can’t seem to unfurrow your brows as Seungcheol chases his pleasure behind you.

angelhan: what if

angelhan: seungcheol in thigh highs lmao

universe_WZ: sub.cheol

sleepy_wonu: sub.cheol

universe_WZ: jinx

sleepy_wonu: fuck u 

You lick your lips at the thought; although you knew Seungcheol would have a hard time relinquishing his dominating nature.

But your mind wanders as you continue to think about it; various images of Seungcheol tied up underneath you while you fucked yourself on his cock running through your mind. You let out a shaky moan, to which Seungcheol hums.

“What are you thinkin’ about, princess?”

“Um… ah, n-nothing…” He thrusts between your legs hard, making you jolt forward as you yelp.

“Princess...”

“I--ah! J-just thinking a-about… y-you tied up, ngh, to--to the bed and m-me fuh--fucking myself on your c-cock… ‘n me u-using, mmh, my toys o-on you...” Seungcheol smirks, pulling his cock from between your shaky thighs as he slightly pushes you over until you're on your back.

He spreads your legs as you look up at him and he’s quick to wrap a hand around his cock as he jerks himself off above you. “Oh, I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? I bet you’d be so cute trying to be the domme for a night.” Seungcheol teases.

You find yourself clenching around emptiness as you think of the possibilities. You definitely wanted to try it if Seungcheol was willing.

“Fuck, but first, gonna cover your pretty body with my cum.” He groans; thrusting up into his palm as he chases his high.

“C-cum all over me, Seungcheol…”

The donations and comments sound off in the back as you maintain eye contact with Seungcheol who’s brows furrow when he starts to feel himself about to cum. He scoots back a little; growling when his cock throbs in his grasp and he cums all over your, already, soaked panties.

You let out a moan when rivulets of cum hit your lower abdomen and you’re quick to reach down and scoop some up to bring to your mouth, smearing the warm substance against your puckered lips before licking it off. Whimpering, you dip your fingers into your mouth; this time pretending they were Seungcheol’s instead of your own.

He guides his cock until the head is aimed at your thighs; streaks of cum settling into the sheer material of your thigh highs. “God, you’re so damn pretty...” Groaning, he milks his cock for every drop of cum before he’s stopping to catch his breath.

“You came so much but I didn’t cum yet, ‘Cheol~” Pouting, you turn your head to the side to face the camera. “Tell him he has to make me cum now~”

kitty_junjun: well u heard the lady!!

hoshi_tiger_xx: make her cum and let her cream her cute lil panties even more

therealchan99: oh fuck yeah, get her off without fucking her cute cunt

Seungcheol leans over your body until the two of you are almost face to face, eyes twinkling with playfulness when you feel his sticky hand playing with your thigh highs again.

“D’you hear that? Let’s give them what they want, baby.”

The sounds of donations and comments once again get lost as Seungcheol finds himself on his knees between your legs.

“Ready?”

When you slide into bed after your camshow’s ended and Seungcheol has properly taken care of you, he’s quick to tug you into his chest. 

The two of you let out soft sighs at the warmth that envelopes you both as you finally start to settle in for the night.

After a few minutes, Seungcheol clears his throat, catching you just before you drift off to sleep.

“This is so random but have you considered, I dunno, rebranding your channel… with me? I was thinking about it and kinda wanted your opinion...”

You blink up curiously at him, urging him to continue. “I mean, yeah, of course! I don’t really know where to start though since it’s always just been me. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure if you wanted to either so I never brought it up.” You snuggle into his warmth, yawning as the sleep threatens to take over.

“But let’s talk about it later, ‘cause ‘m tired now, ‘Cheol. You really didn’t have to make me cum twice…” You mumble, “I can still feel my legs shaking...”

His soft laugh reverberates in your chest and he’s quick to press a kiss against your hair as he tugs you in closer.

“It’s ‘cause I like to spoil you. And okay. I’ll remind you when you’re more conscious.”

“G’night, ‘Cheol...”

“Goodnight, baby.” 

[itsthemoofacewriting]

It’s heaven in your arms - Chapter 2

Welcome back!

You guys, I was so nervous posting this and everyone’s been so lovely ;_;

I don’t know if anyone picked up on it, but my title has two meanings. One, because it’s a bed sharing trope and two, because Ace died in Luffy’s arms. I’m a monster, I know.

Summary: It may have been two years since Ace’s death but, for Luffy, sometimes it still felt like just yesterday. Or, sometimes, something beautiful can blossom from a place of hurt. Raining: K+ 

You can also find this on AO3 and FFN. 

Enjoy!

It was supposed to be a one-time thing.

But when he’d shot her those excited puppy eyes and asked if they could have another sleepover, she’d found herself caving. Even more so when the thought cropped into her head that maybe he was asking because he was struggling. She’d rather know where he was if he was going to be upset than worry about him being all alone out on the deck.

She’d raised an eyebrow when Luffy had arrived with Zoro in tow but that had been quickly snuffed out when he’d smugly said, “A one-time thing, huh?”

From there on the second time turned into a third time and then a fourth and now she’d lost count of how many times this had happened. It wasn’t every night, mind you, as they all had watches and if one of them couldn’t be there, then it was an unspoken rule that the others would sleep separately. Although she couldn’t be sure that Luffy and Zoro didn’t in the men’s room, but she’d seen those bunks and they’d never mentioned it.

The point was, it’d turned into a routine that no one blinked an eye at, and she’d even got them bathing regularly because there was no way either of them were getting in without being clean.

She’d also never slept better than she did when she had those two in her bed, piled in whichever way they found themselves throughout the night. Luffy liked to be the big spoon, which was something she felt like she shouldn’t know but did, he almost insisted on it even as he climbed in first and took an end. It was a funny sight when Zoro ended up in the middle, his hulking figure being cuddled up to by Luffy. The person on the other end was hardly left out when he stretched his arm to curl around them. It was like he was trying to keep them all close.

When they weren’t being spooned by Luffy, another favourite was when Zoro would lay on his back, an arm thrown out either side and she’d naturally gravitate towards him until her head was on his chest or tucked into his shoulder. His beefiness made a nice pillow, something Luffy must have agreed with as he normally mirrored her on the other side.

She’d stopped being flustered by all of this long ago, it was easy to get over when they did it all the time and neither said anything about it.

She did, however, question whether it was right that she had a preferred sleeping preference with the both of them and that she was ranking them.

.

.

.

Nami was sunning herself on her lounger, it was a pleasant day with the sun out, the ocean still and the background noise of Luffy, Chopper and Usopp running around in the distance. Footsteps approaching caught her attention only to see Robin making her way over, two drinks in hand that must have come from Sanji and a third arm holding a book. She greeted the other woman silently, turning her head to smile at her before facing the sun again and closing her eyes to enjoy the warmth on her skin.

There truly was no better way to spend the day-

“My invitation to your little sleepovers must have got lost in the mail.”

Nami was ripped from her peace as she gaped, feeling heat flush through her body at this finally being acknowledged. She shot a nervous look at Zoro who was sleeping only a few feet away from her sun lounger against the railing. Just because he looked like he was asleep, didn’t mean he was, but when he didn’t move or twitch or give any indication that he might be awake, she let herself relax slightly.

And focus back on the woman next to her still staring her down for an answer. Even though it was a statement, she felt the need to explain herself.  

“No- Robin! It isn’t… like that?” She could almost feel the ghost of Luffy’s breath against her skin and Zoro’s arm wrapped around waist, an unwelcome reminder to contrast her words.

Robin hummed, a look in her eye that told Nami she didn’t buy it. “You three looked adorable all cuddled up this morning.”

Of all the ways she thought she was going to die throughout her life, at the hands of Arlong, dropping from Skypiea or on Whole Cake Island to name a few, she never imagined this would be it. Embarrassed to death.

How was she going to explain that this had started with comforting Luffy and snowballed into whatever the hell they were doing now.

She didn’t have to either as Luffy came barrelling over with a chirp of “Nami!”, unaware of their conversation or her embarrassment only to make it worse by squeezing himself onto her sun lounger, ignoring how close they were or that he was practically laying over her. He chattered excitedly next to her, telling her about what him, Usopp and Chopper had been doing, at one point using her straw to take a long gulp from her drink and all the while she was very aware of Robin’s eyes on her the whole time.

“It’s sweet. I’m happy for you three,” Robin said as soon as Luffy bounded off after telling her his short story.

He was out of sight soon enough, but her eyes naturally trailed over to Zoro, only to find his eye trained on her already. She couldn’t be sure whether he’d heard what Robin had just said, but the smile he gave her before closing his eye again certainly didn’t help.

It was full of warmth.  

.

.

.

‘It’s sweet. I’m happy for you three.’

Robin’s words replayed in her head, over and over.

The last couple of weeks washed over her. Robin’s words bringing to the forefront how Luffy and Zoro’s behaviour had changed.

Luffy was the first one up in the mornings, unable to wait for either of them to wake up as he heard Sanji bustling around the kitchen and the lure of food too strong that he’d hastily take off, plastering a hurried kiss on the cheek or forehead of whoever was closest. Sure, it’d stunned her at first, but he’d done it to Zoro too and the other man hadn’t even blinked, so she’d let it go. Even if it did take her by surprise each time.

Then it just left Nami and Zoro by themselves to wake up together. He was so casual as he stretched, murmuring out a “mornin’” as he removed his arm from wherever it was laying against her body and it lingered a second too long, brushing against her skin. It was more subtle than Luffy’s gesture, but this was Zoro. It might as well be the same act.

She felt like an elephant in the room needed to be addressed, yet neither of them acted like anything had changed.

Outside the bedroom it changed too.

Where she used to be alone in the library as she drew maps, Zoro would now be napping against her desk or on the sofa, saying how it was quieter in there and because she was so cranky, they wouldn’t be disturbed. Luffy would soon gravitate towards them, asking questions about her maps that he didn’t really listen to the answer to, or he’d go lay his head on Zoro’s lap whilst he slept, a rare moment of calm that would punish them later as he bounded around.

Luffy would find her more often too, clambering over her seat if she was sun lounging or bringing over things that he’d found and deemed ‘cool’. Kind of like how a cat would bring mice to its owner to impress them… not that she was Luffy’s owner.

They still hung out with their other friends, but instead there’d be Zoro’s arm casually thrown over the back of her chair and Luffy at her other side, a hand constantly finding a way to touch her or draw her into his chaos.

Small shifts, so subtle it had taken her this long to piece it together.

It was almost like…

Almost like they were in a relationship. The three of them.

It made her stomach churn, but she didn’t know if it was in a good or bad way, like how it did when she was dreading something or excited.

And then the final puzzle piece slotted into place.

Oh.

She was in a relationship with them. Or at least the early stages but it was all there, for everyone to see and she’d missed it every step of the way. Her thoughts were jumbled. Too many fighting to be at the forefront and how had she not figured this out sooner?

Her mind had been running for hours whilst she was squished between Zoro and Luffy, staring up at the ceiling. It was still dark outside and all she’d done all night was drift in and out of sleep. She had more hours left to sleep, but she couldn’t calm her mind enough for it.

She rolled onto her side to face Zoro, in his sleep Luffy sensed her movement and filled the slither of free space to spoon up behind her, his breath heavy against her neck. She studied Zoro’s profile, from the scar covering his eye, which when he slept like that she couldn’t tell if he was awake, to the strong line of his nose, the normal severe expression softened in his sleeping state. Even when he slept on the deck, he didn’t look that relaxed, this was something privy to her and Luffy.

There was no way around it. She was attracted to him, and she couldn’t deny looking down at his lips a few times recently as he spoke. They looked dry, like he needed a good slather of lip balm over them, but she it didn’t stop her from entertaining the thought of pressing her lips against his. Luffy’s on the other hand, looked softer and she wondered if the texture was the same as his skin, still soft like human skin but there was a hint of resistance, of elasticity there. She was attracted to Luffy too, his carefree grin and contagious enthusiasm. How weir-

What she wasn’t expecting was for Zoro to suddenly stretch and stir, making a noise of contentment before he rolled over to face her and she didn’t have the sense the clamp her eyes shut in time. She stared back into a lone grey eye.

“Y’alrigh’?” Zoro slurred out, still caught in the grasp of sleep as he settled into his new position.

“Yeah.” She sounded too awake for how early it was and too vacant, unsure, that it caught his attention.

“What’s wrong?” More coherent now.

“Zoro… is this not a bit weird?” Luffy’s arm tightened around her, and he snuggled further into her back.

Zoro had already turned to face her, his arm haphazardly thrown over her, but after her question she could feel the shift, how he was looking at her before but now she could tell she had his full attention. He stared at her, all the signs of sleep or tiredness from before gone from his face. His eye was trained on her and it felt like she was being accessed, that he was trying to look through her.

Another second passed until he answered with a shrug.

“I dunno, maybe, but when have we ever done anything by the book?”

He made a good point and when had she ever cared what others thought?

Her silence seemed to make him take a step back, second guessing the intention of her previous question, as he asked, “Do you want to stop doing this?” The arm over her waist lightened, like he was ready to remove it at a moment’s notice and if she thought she was being accessed before, it was nothing compared to now. His gaze scrutinizing, flittering around her face for any sign of discomfort.

She considered it for a second but the thought of going back to an empty bed permanently made her ache. There’d be no whispering as they tried to go off to sleep, no elbows digging her in the night, no snoring in her ears and it wouldn’t be like an oven all the time with their combined body heat. It’d be cold and silent.

It sounded awful.

“No,” she whispered and Zoro’s arm rested back over her body like before, palm splayed across her waist and squeezing slightly, like he was encouraging her to continue. “But what if- what if this…” ‘doesn’t work out’, She wanted to say.

It didn’t matter, he was on the same page. “This is Luffy we’re talking about. And it’s me.”

He was telling her to trust them. Trust that this would all be okay regardless of the outcome because it was them, and they’d been through hell and back with each other since the very beginning.

And she did, the instinct flaring up instantly to calm her down.  

“Yeah, okay,” she agreed, body relaxing and mind going blissfully silent with that little piece of reassurance.

“Good, then go to sleep, you’re gunna wake up cranky otherwise.”

He was pushing his luck, but she’d let it slide right now mainly because one, she didn’t want to wake Luffy (he was almost as bad as a baby when woken) and because he’d just been very sweet just then, in his own gruff way. And she was feeling generous.

A moment after closing her eyes there were warm lips pressing against her forehead and she sensed a slight hesitation there before they were gone. She cracked her eye open to look at him, but his eye was clamped shut stubbornly, pretending that he hadn’t done anything. There was no mistaking the blush on his cheeks though.

In the morning, when Luffy performed his routine of frantically jumping out of the bed to chase Sanji to the kitchen, he placed his usual hurried kiss on her cheek but this time around, she leaned into it with a smile on her face.

.

.

.

Since that night, things had changed. Everything seemed easier, casual touches that she no longer overthought and, if anything, she leaned more into them.

All of it felt more natural but then maybe that was because she’d relaxed.

Like déjà vu, Nami was on her sun lounger the next day. The hot weather from the day had simmered down into a mild evening and she was making the most of the quiet before they did it all over again tomorrow. Robin was next to her too, reading with the little light naturally left, she’d be moving indoors soon to carry on.

Nami’s eyes stung a bit, from the lack of sleep the night before and she hadn’t napped, but she felt lighter after last night. So much so that she confessed, “I’m in a relationship with Luffy and Zoro.”

Robin stopped reading and turned to smile at her patiently. “It would appear you are, are you happy about it?”

“Yeah,” she said, feeling her cheeks go rosy. “We can make arrangements though, it’s your room too,” she added as an afterthought.

“As long as it stays pg, it doesn’t bother me at all.”

She spluttered, her previously rosy cheeks turning red as it spread hotly across her face and down her neck. She’d only just wrapped her head around the fact she was in a relationship with them, she couldn’t even think about that yet.

“Besides, I believe I have somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

Robin looked over her shoulder and Nami peered behind her to see Franky walking off to his workshop.

Oh.

Nami’s grin turned teasing, it was only fair with what she’d had to put up with recently, except her fun was interrupted by Luffy calling from the women’s room stopped her in her tracks, Zoro poking his head out of the frame to grunt at her. Honestly, as if it wasn’t her room.  

“I believe you’re being called for by your boyfriends,” Robin teased, twinkle in her eye.

“This isn’t over!” Nami pointed her finger at her.

“I didn’t doubt it.”

She crossed the deck, on her way to her room when the thought from last night popped into the forefront of her mind and how she could actually act on it now.

Zoro’s mouth opened when she appeared in the doorway, no doubt something snarky about her being the last one present but she couldn’t hear it over the blood thumping in her ears.

She marched over to them on the bed, a woman on a mission and Luffy looked at her curiously until he yelped as her hands cupped his face and brought him into a kiss. He hesitated for a second until his hands gripped her arms and his lips responded in kind. Whilst it was clear he lacked experience, enthusiasm dripped from the kiss and it more than made up for it as his lips moved eagerly against hers. She angled her head, encouraging him to do that same and trying to keep up with the frantic pace he was setting, all the while batting down a smile. It was him all over, joyful and chaotic and she didn’t know if she’d ever get enough of it.

They pulled apart and there was a split second of relief in his eyes, like maybe he thought this moment was never coming, before it was trampled by his excitement, and he beamed at her.

“You want one too?” She teased, looking over at Zoro, eyebrow raised in challenge.  

Zoro’s response was a heavy palm on the back of her neck that had them both leaning in, over Luffy, to meet in the middle for a kiss much different from hers with Luffy. Zoro’s pace was slower, more thorough as he took his time against her lips, yet it was firm. He had a bit more knowledge, he was surer in himself, and it showed as she sunk into the kiss, for once letting herself be led. She enjoyed it just as much and she knew she’d relish taking her time to pull apart the differences between them, savouring the way they both made her feel.

A daring swipe of her tongue across his bottom lip and then they broke apart, Luffy in the background demanding another kiss when Zoro smugly said, “Took you long enough.”

He wouldn’t look so smug when she pushed him off the bed tonight.            

Luffy’s pleas weren’t ignored when Zoro said, “Captain,” to capture the other boy’s attention and tugged on his vest to kiss him and it made her feel warm, a flutter in her stomach because whilst she wasn’t a part of the kiss, she was a part of them. The three of them.

Luffy looked dazed and then elated when they broke apart, grin splitting his face and there was a glint in his eye that told her more kisses would be demanded before they went to sleep.

She’d get changed and brush her teeth before getting in bed, maybe check that both of them have done that already because she didn’t remember smelling or tasting mint on their breath, when something caught her eye.

There was a space in the middle for her already.

And she smiled; her boys.

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

It’s been a while since I’ve had a fic practically write itself, I’ve missed that.

Luffy and Zoro may be idiots most of the time, but they’re both emotionally smart, it’s been shown time and time again. Nami, on the other hand, is in some cases but she’s also a bit of a worrywart too. So yeah, they kinda eased Nami into what was developing because they didn’t want to freak her out.

As always, please excuse any errors.  

If you got this far, thanks for reading, it means a lot.

[pinkcatharsis]

I dunno if I should legit continue this because I can’t remember where I was going with it. Read a prompt at @sloaners anon or a comment in one of their posts (fantastic art btw go check it out!) about Tsunade adopting a bb Tenzou and well. I wrote this and it’s unfinished and yeah.

I actually don’t even have a title for it. Was supposed to be an eventual YamaIru, too. Oh well!

—

Names have power, they say.

Tenzou can agree to a certain point because his experience from his missions, his targets, countless reconnaissance on high profile politicians has proven that people tend to cower from the syllables of a name if they are a threat.

Names carry prestige more than an identity.Names give history, are the pillars for legacy provided it is a name the people can accept. More often than not, it is a vessel for fear, control

They’re also a convenient excuse for people to either sing with high praise or forget because the truth is always a pill too hard to swallow.

Sometimes it lies ignored despite its great sacrifice to stop a rampaging monster, when the womb still bleeds fresh and a goodbye too soon falls from crimson lips. It is ignored because it is easier to hate someone helpless than to acknowledge a name that saved everyone.

Sometimes it is indifferent, distant, as cold as the unreadable, white irises of its clansmen.

Sometimes it lies abandoned, walls cracking, dust collecting over blood stained tatami mats where the weight of shame fueled enough strength to slice through flesh. Shame because of a choice to save one’s comrades as opposed to prioritising the mission.

Sometimes it is soaking in blood, whispers of its massacre echoing loud, and towards the end of it, the word traitor.

And sometimes, they’re just old, only remembered through history that is a core subject within the Academy walls, a prerequisite in terms of knowledge for every Konoha shinobi. They’re faded, scattered, heirless, visually only present through the carvings of stone that towers over the village.

Tenzou is conditioned to not pay any heed to something as trivial as a name. Not when he’s been conditioned, trained extremely well, that the only thing that matters is servitude to the village. That the name Konoha is the only thing of true value.

Greater people have sacrificed themselves for the good of village and now, their heir wanders Konoha’s walls shunned, sneered, hated, ignored. Their names hardly mattered in the present -- it’s like the Yellow Flash only exists as a tier to be achieved in terms of talent, hard work and mission success and nothing else. As if the man behind the legacy hardly existed.

Legacy means nothing, Tenzou realizes, in the grand scheme of things.

When you die, you just die.

It’s okay to die nameless.

*

Tenzou hears about Tsunade’s arrival tucked behind the cover of an open locker door. Apparently, Tsunade-hime is in the village for a visit. And like always, she has spent her first day sitting with her former sensei, having tea until she had flung the table across the room, out the window in a fit of uncontrolled, roiling rage.

“I think it’s because sandaime is asking her to stay,” one fellow ANBU says.

“No, it’s got something to do with her gambling debt for sure,” another says.

“Monkey says it has something to do with the council pressuring her to produce an heir,” a softer voice says.

“I thought she couldn’t?”

“Or she doesn’t want to?”

The conversation explodes, only coming to a sudden stop when the sound of a door opening puts a halt on the outright gossip that Tenzou shamefully has been eavesdropping on. Someone dares throw a table out the window in front of the Hokage? And the Hokage does nothing? Tenzou thinks back to Danzou an Root -- if any of them dared show such insubordination, that would mean at least half a day’s worth of lashings under the scorching sun and then dry fasting isolation for thirty-six hours. Not many tend to survive that but that would just mean they’re too weak to remain in Root, anyway.

“Don’t you guys have better things to do?” Kakashi’s voice cuts through with a drawl. It is followed by a series of locker doors shutting, rapid shuffling and then silence. “Oi, Tenzou. The Hokage needs you.”

Tenzou straightens, tugging his clean armor on and running a comb through his damp hair. He slams his locker shut and gives his senpai a wordless nod, acknowledging the summon.

*

A summon that suddenly renders him not so nameless anymore.

Tsunade is a towering figure, heals almost five inches high, back straight, eyebrows narrowed, hands on her hip and staring down at him like he’s a two year old.

“How old are you?”

“Fourteen,” Tenzou responds, keeping perfectly still. He isn’t intimidated by Tsunade’s persona. He’s just feeling a little too awkward because if Tsunade leaned any closer to examine him, her breasts would be ten centimeters too close to his face to be called professional, let alone proper.

“You are awfully small for a fourteen year old,” Tsunade tartly says, almost disappointed.

“I am a hundred and twenty nine and a half centimeters,” Tenzou agrees, well aware of how stunted his growth is. Danzou always factored his slow growth to the radiation and chemical exposure, a side effect to the experimentation Tenzou miraculously survived. But small doesn’t mean weak, Danzou had said, one of the few times he had been encouraging.

“Do you even eat, boy?” Tsunade scoffs.

“Yes. Five meals a day when I am in the village, continuously supplemented by calorically dense ration bars that Danzou-sama advised to--”

“Hah! Which one -- the one that tastes like sweet wet newspaper or the one that tastes like mouldy bread?” Tsunade snorts.

Tenzou finds himself stammering a little, glancing a little cluelessly at the Sandaime who is taking a very, very long drag from his pipe. Tenzou’s mouth quickly clamps shut before he can voice out his confusion. He can’t honestly say he knows what mouldy bread tastes like nor can he say he’s actually tried eating wet newspaper, let alone a sweetened one. So he goes with what he thinks is the correct response to this kind of inquiry. “The N-4150?”

“Sweet, wet newspaper. At least that old fart chose the better formula.” Tsunade rolls her eyes before taking - thank heavens - a proper step back.

Tenzou blinks once, altering between Tsunade now very put-upon expression and the Sandaime who is standing there as if he were part of the book shelf. “Hokage-sama, should I not continue consuming the N-4150?”

Sandaime rumbles an amused noise, blowing out a slow stream of tobacco smoke before he stands, rounding the table. “Why don’t you demonstrate your Mokuton skills for Tsunade, Tenzou? After all, that is the reason you were summoned here.”

It gets another eyeroll, with a bit of a scoff from Tsunade, who crosses her arms under her breasts.

“Yes, Hokage-sama,” Tenzou acknowledges.

He puts his hands together, channels just enough chakra and forms a small pot in his hands, slowly filling it with roots coiling until it sprouts green leaves, topped with large, black centered white poppies.

“Oh, white poppies,” Sandaime smiles, his face wrinkling. “An interesting choice. You see, Tsunade, Tenzou here has been studying botany for a year now. He’s a bit of an artist with his gardening. Tenzou, didn’t you recently start studying architecture as well?”

“I have only started reading some reference books three months ago, Hokage-sama,” Tenzou responds, with a bit of a nod, as his fingers tightens a little bit around the pot in his hands, not quite sure what to do with his creation-demonstration.

“Hmmm,” Sandaime hums, a touch bemused before he brings his pipe back up to his lips. “Reminds you of someone, doesn’t it, Tsunade?”

Tenzou looks at Tsunade, who in a space of a heartbeat looks far too young in a show of vulnerability, as her throat bobs when he swallows. It gets washed away when he clicks her tongue and turns to look at Tenzou, giving him a once over.

“Well, no one fucks with grandfather’s DNA, gets away with it and then keep it from me. Had it been anyone else but Danzou, Root of all places, I wouldn’t take issue! When did you discover your Mokuton skills, boy?”

“A year before I graduated from the Academy.” Tenzou swallows. “I was five years old.”

“Nine years! With that creep!” Tsuande shouts.

Sandaime’s tobacco inhale had to be the longest one Tenzou has ever seen.

Sandaime exhales, responding with a sigh, “Better late than never, hmm?”

“Fine.” Tsaunde grouches. “I’ll do it. Tenzou, you can call me okaa-san when you’re ready.”

The pot drops from Tenzou’s hands.

“Eh?”

Tenzou thinks it's a good response. Given the proverbial punch to the face he’s just received.

*

It’s not that Tenzou wants to say he cares much for the idea of family.

It’s more like he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

(What does family even mean?)

So Tenzou, much like every other time he gets moved around like he’s no more than a potted plant, agrees.

Not like it really matters, right?

He thinks of it as just having another sort of… superior?

*

A superior that Tenzou apparently now gets to live with after all of those paperwork.

In a large, inherited estate, closed off, covered in wildly growing flora and fauna. The estate does not look like it’s been lived in for decades. There is damage from the growth of vines, some of it poking through the tatami doors, and getting to the interior of the house. There are a few soda cans littered around the gate, some old, some new. Likely the result of dares from the younger crowd of Konoha.

The once heralded Senju estate that Hashirama and Tobirama and their families once resided in is now nothing more than a shadow of its former glory. Uncared for. Outdated. Obsolete.

“Well,” Tsunade huffs. “I haven’t seen this place in, hmm, ten years maybe? Maybe twelve? Tche, what a dump.”

Tsunade toes an old, faded orange soda can by her heel, kicking it further away.

Tenzou wishes he’s no more than a spore in the ground. Should he say something? He may be a Senju by name and by experimental DNA, but that doesn’t really make him a Senju-Senju.

It’s just circumstances.

“Well? What do you think, kid? You like the house?” Tsunade holds her hand out at the once upon a time regal grounds, now overgrown with weeds and littered with random junk.

Tenzou looks at the estate again and decides to go with the most diplomatically acceptable response there is in this case.

“It’s a lot bigger than my apartment,” Tenzou politely responds, as his eyes stray towards the patch of wildly growing rosary pea and oleander growing by the gate.

Tsunade’s booming laughter echoes throughout the entire compound, bemused and real. She doubles over, slapping a hand on her knee, her laugh tapering off to a bit of a wheeze. It almost sounds nervous. A little hysterical even.

Tenzou tilts his head to the side, staring up at this woman, this new mother of his, a legendary sannin, one of the most if not the best, medic there is in the country.

Would it be rude to ask her if she is okay?

“Kid,” Tsunade snorts, shaking her head, reaching out to ruffle Tenzou’s long hair. “I like your sense of humor. You and I are going to get along just fine.”

*

Tsunade asks to see his apartment.

And then proceeds to wear what Tenzou can only assume is her analytical face. It’s peppered with a little judgment, too.

Tenzou’s current apartment is a shoebox in size, with enough space for a single bed, a small sectioned off wall by the door turned to a makeshift kitchen and a connecting bathroom that Tsunade, no doubt, will have to carefully manage her long limbs.

“You like it here?” Tsunade asks, her lips twisting at the sight of the old hotplate on the tiny kitchen counter.

“It serves its purpose.” Tenzou shrugs.

“That wasn’t my question,” Tsaunde prompts, turning that analytical gaze back to Tenzou.

Tenzou frowns, resisting the urge to reach up and rub the back of his head in partial confusion, partial irritation. It’s a comfortable space -- what is she on about? Having an opinion on something as trivial as a living space serves no purpose in the betterment of Tenzou’s skills in the field. It has no correlation to his successful mission counts. Liking something or anything for that matter doesn’t make missions easier or harder, either.

Unsure of how to respond, Tenzou resorts to Danzou’s advice when it comes to undercover. If you’re caught in a tight spot, the easiest thing to slip out of attention is to either blend with your surroundings or mirror the person in front of you.

Tenzou goes for the mirror, sloping his eyebrows down the same way Tsunade is, relaxing his shoulder to what looks like a wary slump, canting his head just the tiniest bit to the side, and responds with what he hopes is a conclusion to this conversation, “It’s all right.”

Tsunade goes quiet for a while, before she sighs slowly and curses under her breath.

“Let’s try this again,” Tsunade sighs, gesticulating with her hand towards the entirety of the small apartment. “What do you think would make this space better suited for you? Take into consideration that you are also currently studying botany and architecture.”

Tenzou looks at the small stack of reference books he had borrowed from the public library, how he has to do most of his reading on the bed. If he had to sketch on drawing paper, he usually does so on the ceiling given the lack of floor space and a full flat wall that isn’t lined with bulging pipes or the sil of the window, with the paper taped on the corners. Makes it easier for him to get on his knees and practice his pencil sketches.

“Then that’s something you should consider when you fix our house, hmm?”

Oh. So he’s fixing it.

Well.

Okay, then.

—

And yeah that’s all I got. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[bjy-on-ao3]

Reader is a noob sexually (and her body is sensitive), is a shy introvert, and is a bit petite. She and Adachi have become lovers recently. One evening after Adachi comes back from work he finds reader in his apartment horny and turned on. She begs him to relieve her. I'd love if it had dirty talk, degradation, some biting, and rough sex. Omg please please please

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

This checks off most of the boxes for the request if I understood it correctly. Also, I don’t really think Adachi would be the type to give someone a key to his place, but the alternative is ‘Reader is a bit yandere and picked the lock’ and I didn’t think that matched up with this well. Thank you for your patience, I know it’s been a while since this request was made! Summary Reader invites themselves into Adachi’s apartment while he’s away at work. Adachi punishes them for their shameless, though it might just be encouraging the bad behavior. Tags/Warnings Biting, Creampie, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Established Relationship, Misogyny, Name-Calling, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Vaginal Sex

Mercy (F! Reader/Tohru Adachi)

“Ugh, what a crap day.”

Adachi approached the door to his apartment, feeling tired and bitter as ever. On one hand, he was happy to be off shift and not have to worry about behaving like the overly nice guy society demanded. On the other, he knew it wouldn’t last long.

His train of thought and speech screeched to a stop as he noticed a light shining from his apartment window. “Did I leave that on?” His brow furrowed as he tried to remember. It wasn’t like him to forget something like that. He didn’t need to be paying extra for power he wasn’t using.

Torn from his thoughts, Adachi was on guard now, focused on the apartment. He decided he hadn’t left the light on, so who had? Had someone broken into his apartment? Out of all those they could have chosen, the home of a police detective seemed the poorest choice. Neighborhood hooligans causing trouble, maybe? He couldn’t be sure.

He crept to the door, finding it still locked. The befuddled look on his face deepened even further. Had it been him after all? Unless… He shook his head, finding his key and unlocking the door before pushing it open tentatively. He cast a wary glance around the kitchen the door opened into. No one. Not a soul to be seen, and nothing in the room looked awry. At least, not until his eyes swept over the sliding door adjoining the kitchen and his bedroom, which he noticed was barely ajar.

He moved toward the sliding door with a long, purposeful stride, though quietly. He slid open the door with a loud noise and a flourish. His eyes widened when he spied a figure sitting on his bed that popped up as the doors slammed open. He wiped the surprise from his face when he realized who it was that had made themselves so comfortable on his bed.

“Tohru, you’re home. Finally,” you greeted. You stood there, looking genuinely glad and relieved to see him, dressed only in a loose shirt and panties. Adachi was as perplexed as ever, abruptly remembering the key he had given you to his apartment. “I’ve been waiting for you,” you confessed happily, though something desperate lingered beneath the cheer.

“Waiting for me?” He asked. He reached into his pocket and drew out his phone, expecting to see a missed message or something stating your intent to come over and wait for him to arrive back from work. No missed calls, no unread messages. Nothing.

“I...I couldn’t stop thinking about last time.” Your voice was low, meek almost, as if it were embarrassing to admit, and you cast your eyes to the floor. Adachi said nothing, feeling as if you weren’t finished speaking, despite your hesitant tone. Not that Adachi wasn’t used to you being shy, especially admitting certain things. “It’s been driving me crazy,” you finished, looking him back in the eyes.

When  Adachi observed the noticeably wet spot in your panties, it hit him what you were alluding to. The confusion took a backseat to pride, and he couldn’t help but smirk. “Oh? Is that right?” He asked pressingly, willing you to go on.

You swallowed nervously, hesitating as if trying to pluck the right words from the air before you spoke. “Y-yes. Whenever I try to go about doing something else, the memory... just comes right back to me,” you explained. There was a neediness creeping into your tone. “I tried, um, taking care of stuff by myself, but…” you stopped, unsure how to continue. Stating it so plainly was a mortifying idea.

But Adachi wasn’t going to let you off easily. Especially when you had come over to his apartment just to wait for him because you needed him so badly. You were going to fess up one way or another what you wanted from him, even if he already knew from context.

“But what, baby?” His speech had some of the warmth you heard when he was in town, in public, but the cool and alluring tone beneath it belied a very different mood.

The fake warmth soothed you enough to confess more. “It’s...it’s not the same. It has to be you. It has to be your hands… has to be your cock.” The words coming out burned as hotly as you knew your face did. “I need you, please… Tohru,” you trailed off again, the words getting stuck in your throat.

Your heart pounded even faster in your chest. It had already been screaming, protesting your brazenness and warring with your desire. But you needed relief and only Adachi could give it to you. You recalled the saying about it being easier to ask forgiveness rather than permission, but now standing there feeling like your face was on fire, when there was no taking it back, you weren’t so sure. Adachi never had been the most forgiving person in the time you’d been together, after all. But he didn’t seem mad now. Perhaps that should have been more frightening.

“C’mon, keep going. I wanna hear more about what a needy little whore you are,” Adachi insisted. The mocking tone and degrading term was something you were familiar with from him. It excited you as much as it unsettled you.

You took in a steadying breath that rattled in your chest. Speaking lewdly so boldly was new to you. Hell, so much of what you’d learned from being with Adachi was new to you. “I… touch me, Tohru, please. F-fuck me, I need you so bad,” you finally said. It amazed you that you hadn’t spontaneously combusted by now.

Adachi, crooked smile inching wider, stepped further into his bedroom, closing the sliding doors with a shuffling sound and moving toward you. You made to meet him in the middle of the bedroom, but he brushed past you to stand by the bed, leaving you looking on in confusion. “Hmm, as hot as that is, I don’t think you’ve earned it,” Adachi concluded, turning to face you.

Protests sprang from your lips immediately, unthinking. “B-but, Tohru, please, I—”

“Shut your mouth, dumb cunt,” Adachi snapped venomously. You licked your lips anxiously and did as you were told. “I didn’t ask for your opinion. You come over late at night, uninvited, without a single word, and expect me to fuck you?” There was an indignant incredulousness in his tone, but something else just beneath. “I think you need to be taught a lesson,” he said. The previously surprised and then neutral gaze he had given you had turned narrow and cold.

“W-what do you mean?” You asked genuinely.

“Come here.” The command was short, providing no room for negotiation, but that didn’t stop you.

“Tohru, I just—”

“ Now , you stupid bitch,” Adachi snarled, his patience wearing thinner. You hastily made your way back to the bed until you stood beside him, watching keenly, a light tremor coursing through you. Of fear or excitement or both, you weren’t sure. “That’s better,” Adachi said, tone much less sharp.

He raised one hand to the curve of your hip, letting it lay there almost gently, and you sighed. His other hand lifted to your mouth where he absently pressed his thumb to your lips. You gave in to the pressure quickly, letting the digit slide past your lips and swiping your tongue over it, before sucking at it.

“Now, just how should I punish a selfish little whore?” He stroked over your enthusiastic tongue, pressing down hard and thrusting his thumb further back, making you nearly gag. “Ah, I think I’ve got it,” Adachi declared, a glee trickling into his voice. He pulled his thumb from your mouth and his touch abandoned you altogether, making you whine. “Get rid of those,” he demanded, prodding at your clothes.

“Yes, Tohru, anything,” you agreed, eagerly stripping and discarding them onto the floor in a heap. Your trembling was even more evident when you waited before him fully bare, though the chilly air of the room didn’t help.

“Now bend over,” Adachi commanded, with a nod of his head to his bed. “I want to see that tight little ass.”

You nodded dumbly, stepping around him and bending over the mattress, burying your hands in the sheets. You didn’t look back at first, trying to regain some control of your pulse and the shudders that wracked your body. Adachi pressed close behind you, and you squirmed ticklishly away from the hem of his blazer and tie as they trailed over your skin.

He lay one palm languidly on the swell of your ass, caressing reverently for a moment and enjoying the heat and softness of your skin. His other hand imitated it, before rolling over and clamping onto your hip opposite the first.

“How much did you touch yourself while you waited for me, huh?” Adachi asked casually, as if it were a simple, not absolutely embarrassing question to answer.

“I-well, I—” Your voice cracked and rang out in a surprised yelp when Adachi lifted the hand groping your ass away and brought it down harshly onto the sensitive skin. “S-so much! But it wasn’t—” Adachi’s heavy hand broke your speech again as he swatted your ass a second time, making both cheeks tingle and sting. “But it wasn’t enough! I need you . I had to come see you!” You cried out, voice shaking, the spankings only making more wetness pool between your legs.

“Yeah? And you couldn’t be bothered to tell me?” Adachi seemed most upset by your audacity. He raised his hand in another smack, sharper this time, the sound of skin-on-skin resounding in the bedroom and you shouted. “Guess I shouldn’t expect a whore like you to have the brains to think straight,” he degraded in a hiss, giving one cheek a harsh squeeze.

“I wanted to s-surprise you—aah, fuck!” You cursed when Adachi struck you again, the spankings coming quicker, giving you less time to recover.

“Is that so?” He sounded unconvinced.

“Yes, Tohru. Please, I just want you, I need you,” you begged. “I ca—” The next slap on your ass was the hardest yet, ripping a strangled sound from your throat. “I can’t cum without you!” You shouted, desire and pain straining your voice.

Yet giving Adachi what he wanted was as much of a bane as disobeying. It just made him more cocky, invigorating him to torment you and draw out even more lewd confessions. “Oh yeah? And what if I didn’t want to let you cum?”

The spankings paused as he spoke, as if he wanted to allow you the clarity to take them in. A particularly violent shiver rocked you at the obscenity of his words and the thought of being left with the burning need between your legs untended and ignored. “What if I just wanted to fuck your cute little mouth when I’m done here and send you home?: He threatened. He punctuated the sentence with another hard smack to your ass and you whimpered.

Tears burned in the corner of your eyes, frustration and pain and something vaguely pleasurably smoldering beneath both. Already your ass stung and throbbed, and you knew it would bruise luridly the next day. Beneath you, despite the brace of your arms supporting you, your thighs quaked, your knees threatening to buckle and dump you face first into the sheets.

“No, Tohru please, you have to—” you started, but Adachi cut you off again with another vicious spanking.

He grabbed a fistful of hair in the hand that had held your hip, jerking your head back and making you wince at the strain of the angle. His lips met your ear, and his words made the hair on the back of neck stand on end as yet another shiver seized you.

“I don’t have to do anything, slut.” he said nastily. “You’re my little toy and you’ll take what I give you and thank me when I’m done.” He stopped, and his grip loosened. “Maybe if I feel good enough, you can even cum.”

Adachi let his fingers slip from your hair, the hand on your stinging ass moving away, too, and he shifted closer. The cool fabric of his pants and even colder metal of his belt buckle against your burning skin was a relief, though you still squirmed from the sensation. Past the press of the fabric, you clearly felt how hard Adachi was despite his angry demeanor.

You didn’t realize he had been expecting you to respond until he seized your chest in his hands, tweaking both nipples cruelly and leaving a hard bite on the curve of your neck and shoulder, growling in your ear again. “Well? Answer me.”

“Y-yes, Tohru. I-I’ll take it all. Anything. Everything,” you agreed demurely, your voice shaking along with your body. All the cruel stimulation set you on edge, rattling your words even more than your nerves normally might. “F-fuck, fuck, fuck,” you murmured under your breath as Adachi continued to roughly toy with your breasts.

Adachi stood straight, his palms leaving your chest and retreating to your ass again, His fingers snaked down to your soaked lips, spreading them open and admiring the slickly glistening pink within. His eyes flickered for a second to the wet spot left on his slacks from where they had been pressed against your slick.

“Look at you. Dripping wet already and I’ve hardly touched your pussy,” he shamed. He was careful not to let his fingers slip further in, as much as he wanted to. “What a pathetic little whore,” he spat out, and you made a soft, desperate sound that only confirmed his words.

“You should be happy I don’t just leave you high and dry right now,” Adachi supplied, as if you ought to thank him for his mercy. But I’ve had a long day and I could use the relief. So consider yourself lucky.”

His touch abandoned you again altogether, and you heard the distinctive sound of his belt buckle clinking, coming undone, and the rustle of his slacks as he disposed of them. Adachi let himself indulge finally in the wetness pooled between your thighs, seeping down them. He slid two fingers easily between your lips, gathering the fluid there and making an appreciative noise as it glistened on his fingers. He raised his fingers to his lips, quickly cleaning them before pressing himself up against your ass.

You winced, the skin still stinging, but you couldn’t help but feel excited all the same at the touch of his hot, bare skin on yours. You cried out again when Adachi grabbed your sore cheeks in both hands, kneading savagely. He thrust himself between your pussy lips, but not inside, coating his cock with your essence. You gave a soft moan, a mixture of hurt and relief, and whimpered pitifully. His cock was so close to where you wanted him, yet with the mood he was in, you wondered if Adachi intended just to antagonize you.

One indecisive hand moved away and back to your chest, pinching a nipple so hard more tears sprang to your eyes and you let out a gasp. “Aaah, Tohru, that hurts,” you complained in a wavering voice strangled by tightness in your throat.

“Good. Maybe it’ll teach you something,” he said, a mean, husky undertone of excitement edging into his voice. “Next time you touch yourself, thinking about me, you tell me,” he warned, bucking his hips and sliding slickly through your lips again.

The tears broke, rolling over your cheeks, feeling cool in contrast to your burning face. “Yes, yes, I swear I will next time, Tohru. I swear,” you promised. Anything to end your punishment and persuade Adachi to bury himself in the needy place he was already so close to. But he wanted to be crystal clear you understood.

“You wait until you’ve got my permission before you come barging in here,” he started. “I’ll fuck your brains out when I want. You’re my shameless whore to use when I want to get off. Have I made myself clear, baby?” There was that gentle term of endearment, mixed in again with the mean names. And yet it felt the most biting of them all.

You nodded your head frantically in compliance, biting your lip and fighting back the sting and the desperate need assaulting your nerves. It wasn’t enough to satisfy Adachi though, and he prompted you to speak by once more by squeezing your ass and your chest sharply. You nearly yelled your answer, obeying the ache, “Yes! I-I’ll only come over when you want me.”

That seemed to be enough. “Good. Now that we’ve got that cleared up and you’ve got me all worked up…” Adachi stopped, pressing his cock more firmly against your dripping heat to emphasis the effect you had on him, “I think it’s time I fucked that needy cunt of yours.”

“Please…” you whined in a pitiful, breathy tone. Despite all the torment, the crude names and rough treatment, you craved him.

Adachi moved against you roughly, cock slipping through your folds again until the thick head pressed against your entrance. He didn’t bother taking his time or savoring the stretch, entering you, fast and rough, all at once. You groaned and shuddered again, the need burning higher the satisfying relief of feeling him hot and hard inside you. You whimpered his name, fisting the sheets tighter and arching back into him.

When he drew back, taking the wonderful fullness with him, you could have cried all over again, but you weren’t left wanting for long, and he slammed back home and filled you to the brim. The motion repeated, his hips rocking against yours carelessly, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, melding with obscene, wet noise from your cunt and the raspy, shaky moans pouring from your mouth. Adachi’s low groans and numerous swears under his breath  joined your voice as he pushed himself as far as he could go, relishing in the soft heat clenching around his cock.

“Shit, you’re so goddamn tight. Did you need my cock this bad?” He groaned, giving one ass cheek another light slap. It was enough to make you gasp and squirm again, but not nearly so hard as your punishment before.

Eventually his other hand joined its twin on your breasts, filling both palms greedily and toying with the nipples. He leaned down, pressing his clothed chest into your back so he could drive himself even harder into your cunt and bite harshly at your shoulders and neck. His growling, excited words were closer now, adding to the fire bubbling in your belly under your skin.

“Pathetic… needy… little… bitch.” His words were broken, interrupted by pants and the force of his hips each time he bucked into you. You moaned louder, your cunt clamping down even more around him at the humiliating words. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for? To be used like a worthless little cock sleeve?” He degraded, his pace slowing, but not the force behind it, his words coming out lower, clearer.

He didn’t need to spur you to answer this time, not with his hands kneading your chest and his cock filling you up over and over so deliciously, making the knot in your gut tense and heat.

“Aaah, y-yes! It’s amazing,” you breathed, voice wavering but thick with the arousal that made you feel near mindless. “You feel so, so good,” you continued, the praise catching in your throat as Adachi touched something inside you that felt especially good.

“Such a good little slut.” The depraved praise was just another catalyst for the fire in your abdomen that strung your body tight. But in it you could hear the way your body affected Adachi as well. A strain dawned in his voice, and his breathing became more ragged. “Tell me, baby, does a fuck toy like you deserve to cum?”

“O-only if you, fuck , want me to, Tohru,” you nearly purred, and Adachi stiffened even more within you at how unexpectedly easily you responded that time.

“That’s right,” he confirmed, picking up his pace, until each deep, hard thrust rocked ythe bed and the frame groaned in protest.

Your mouth fell open, each moan and whimper and gasp coming out full and unimpeded, raising in pitch each time Adachi’s hips pressed flush against yours and his balls slapped against the backs of your thighs.

“Shit. You sound so fucking hot.” The strain in Adachi’s voice was clear as a bell now, and you knew he was close, even distracted by your own pleasure. “I’m gonna fill up that shameless cunt of yours,” he promised bawdily.

“F-fuck, please, Tohru, I-I want your cum.” You surprised yourself with how filthy the words sounded as they fell past your lips, but your face and body could warm no further with embarrassment.

When his rhythm stuttered, Adachi reached one hand down from your breasts, fumbling but quickly finding your swollen clit and rubbing feverishly as his heavy, panting breaths fanned over the back of your neck. Already so overstimulated, it didn’t take long before the tantalizing stroke of Adachi’s fingers burst the coil of heat in your gut and sent you over the edge.

Your cries peaked so loud, you were sure the neighbors nearby could hear, but with the waves of molten pleasure webbing out from your core, you had no mind to care. No mind to be even more humiliated. Adachi’s fingers didn’t stop as you met your climax, and tears ran down your cheeks again; though you weren’t sure if they had ever really stopped. This time, it was from the touch of his fingers and stroke of his cock, quickly becoming overwhelming and almost unpleasant, despite the way your cunt contracted around him and the volume of your moans.

The eager, constant clench of your cunt around his length seemed to be the last push Adachi needed. A positively feral sound met your ears as Adachi stiffened against you, his cum filling you in thick, hot spurts that made you feel even more full. “Fuck, take it all, you dumb slut,” he growled, voice wild and husky as he pumped into you

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, your voice quiet when compared to the sound of your moans.

At last, Adachi’s hips went still, and his fingers on your clit halted, pulling away and wiping the sticky slick coating them onto your thigh. You panted heavily, eyelids fluttering as you strove to keep them open, and you heard Adachi panting as well. There was a pause where neither of you said anything, bent only on the afterglow and regaining your breath.

“Well, what do you say?” Adachi asked expectantly. “C’mon, speak up. I’m sure even a dumb bitch like you can remember.” Though his words were cruel, his tone had mellowed, sounding more exhausted than harsh or demanding.

“T-thank you, Tohru. Thank you for fucking me… a-and for letting me cum,” you mumbled. Your face had cooled while you recovered, but with those words it was on fire all over again.

Satisfied, Adachi pulled out, and his cum leaked down your thighs in the absence of his cock. He stepped away, and you remained bent over his bed, until finally you thought yourself steady enough to stand straight. You turned to look for your clothes - including those you had discarded before Adachi had arrived back - but a hand on your shoulder stopped you.

“Oh, don’t bother getting dressed, baby. You’re not going anywhere,” he informed you, giving you a light push so that you tumbled back onto his bed.

“B-but I thought— don’t you want me to leave?” you asked in confusion. More often than not, when Adachi was in that sort of mood, he wanted you gone afterwards.

“Not after your little stunt,” he said, shucking off his jacket and hanging it up, before taking off his tie and dress shirt, folding them surprisingly neatly in a stack. “You’re going to stay over and make it up to me again in the morning before work,” Adachi decided, coming back to the bed.

“You didn’t think just that was enough, did you?”

[bookdancerfics]

in the summer day, a BNHA Whumptober fic

No 3. MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY  Manhandled | Forced to their Knees | Held at Gunpoint

Summary: Kirishima’s never been held hostage before now, but it’s not something he’s a fan of, especially when his quirk isn’t working.

Warnings: non-consensual drug use (temporary quirk destroying drug), guns

Rated T, Kiribaku, 1.7k+ Words. cross-posted to ao3 and ff.net (Bookdancer)

--

Maybe it’s cliché, but Kirishima’s day doesn’t start terribly. They’re a quarter of the way through their third year at UA, and after so long living with each other Class 3-A knows everyone else’s habits as well as they’ll ever know anyone’s. Bakugou and Midoriya are the first to rise, almost as if they enjoy making it a competition just to see who can reach the kitchen, and breakfast, the fastest. This is true whether it’s a weekday or a weekend. On Saturdays, like today, Kirishima is one of the last ones down, Fatgum’s agency being closer than most allowing him to sleep in.

Once downstairs, already dressed in his hero uniform, he greets the other slow goers—Ashido, Uraraka, and Aoyama have similarly close internships, and Shinsou’s hours run later as an underground hero, though he’s not always up by now.

“Morning, Red Riot!” Uraraka says. Like him, she’s already in uniform, her helmet at the end of the table as she eats.

“Morning, Uravity!” Kirishima pokes his head into the fridge and grabs a covered plate with a sticky note on it. It reads RR, all you other extras BACK OFF, and Kirishima can’t help but grin when he sees it.

“Someone’s got a crush,” Aoyama teases, smiling. He’s at the table with Uraraka, right across from Ashido. Shinsou is the only one missing of their group, likely still sleeping.

Kirishima’s grin only widens; he and Bakugou have been dating since they were second years. “That’s been established, are we still making the same jokes?”

Ashido cackles and throws a grape at him, and Kirishima catches it in his mouth, laughing, before pulling the saran wrap off the plate and starting in on his food.

Their small group doesn’t separate till the train station, Ashido and Uraraka heading off together while Aoyama and Kirishima go solo. When Kirishima finally arrives at Fatgum’s agency he finds the place in organized chaos. Fatgum waves him over with a grim smile, already leading the group out the door, and Kirishima falls in place next to Suneater.

“We’re teaming up with Miruko and The Lurkers,” Fatgum explains. “There’s been a series of heists at high-end labs recently that Kamui Woods got a lead on, and we’re going in on what we believe to be their hideout.”

Kirishima nods, bouncing a little on his toes as he walks. It’s been awhile since he participated in a large hero team-up, and with Bakugou with Miruko and Kaminari and Sero both with The Lurkers, it will also be one of the first times he works as a hero with so many of his best friends at once. And, like the beginning of his day, the start of the raid goes well. The group of thieves are hidden out in a large, bunker style building with multiple corridors and places to get lost, so the pro-heroes separate everyone off into groups to search the place. As third years they’re allowed a bit more leniency and trust, and Kaminari and Sero go off together while Kirishima joins Bakugou.

They take the back half of the second floor, Fatgum and Edgeshot in the front. Kirishima knows they’re staying close by on the off chance there’s trouble but, despite the fact that The Lurkers had reported their information with utter confidence, they don’t see much of anyone besides the dark grey halls and even darker doorways. Bakugou fiddles with one of his bracers, and Kirishima repeatedly switches his quirk on and off.

“Just our luck no one will show, huh?” Bakugou says, scowling.

Kirishima just smiles at him. “C’mon, Blasty, it’s not so bad. We can’t be the ones to save the day every day, after all.”

“Course we can,” Bakugou scoffs. His lips are twitching, though, like he wants to smile but won’t, and Kirishima bumps shoulders with him, grinning.

He turns, going to check the next room, and finds himself face to face with someone he’s only seen in the packet Fatgum gave him that very afternoon. Stunned, Kirishima lets out a shout and barges into the room. He’s just activating his quirk when something sharp pierces his neck and he reels back, one hand clamped over the puncture wound. Bakugou roars by him, obviously pissed, and Kirishima stumbles to a halt with his back to the corridor wall. He still has the perfect view of the room inside, of Bakugou fighting amidst his explosions, of the villain answering back with some sort of scale quirk. Kirishima gets a glimpse of claws, and teeth, and from there it’s easy to guess that the guy shares a bit more in common with alligators than the average person.

A syringe drops from the tussle and rolls to a stop in the doorway—empty.

Kirishima stares at it. Much like the alligator quirk, it’s not hard to connect the dots. Whatever was in the syringe is now running through Kirishima’s veins, and whatever it is can’t be anything good. He tests his quirk, just in case, and his heart sinks when his skin doesn’t harden. But all he can do now is hope it’s not permanent, and Bakugou needs his help, so he gets to his feet ready to dive back into the fray.

A gun answers him.

“My luck is terrible today,” Kirishima says, staring at the guy behind the gun. Like alligator-quirk-guy, he’s scaly, but his tongue flicks out, forked, obviously belonging to a snake.

“C’mon, then,” Snake says. He flicks the gun briefly, pointing Kirishima back to the room with Bakugou. Alligator is almost down, and Kirishima winces, knowing Bakugou would normally win this fight. But the gun presses at his forehead, cold, and there’s not a lot he can do.

Bakugou doesn’t stop fighting when he steps into the room, or when the gun follows. Kirishima wishes he could see Snake’s face, or at least wait for Bakugou to take down Alligator, but the gun presses harder against his head, forcing him to either catch Bakugou’s attention or wait for the gun to actually go off. And as much as he trusts his quirk to catch most of the damage of a bullet, he’s not very fond of the idea of trying it out without his quirk.

“Ground Zero,” he says, and Bakugou stops, deflecting one last blow from Alligator and then turning. His gaze flicks from Kirishima, to the gun, to Alligator, Snake, and then Kirishima again. Kirishima tries to smile, but judging by the way Bakugou’s hands start to set off mini explosions, he’s not entirely successful.

“Shitty Hair,” Bakugou answers.

The gun shoves against Kirishima’s head, jolting him forward a bit.

“Red here has something to say,” Snake sneers.

Kirishima swallows. “They took away my quirk.”

Bakugou’s gaze goes to the syringe, his skin paling, and Kirishima hates that he’s done this, that he’s reduced Bakugou to some chess piece to be moved around. But with Snake so focused on him, there’s not a lot either of them can do.

“We’ll be going now,” Snake says. “If either of you try anything, I blow Red’s brains out.”

“It’s Red Riot, jackass,” Bakugou snaps. In the next moment he’s moving, though, walking past Snake all while shooting the crook a dirty look.

They go down the hall in a line, Bakugou and then Kirishima, Snake with the gun at Kirishima’s head, and finally Alligator. This is where the villains made a mistake, though, because the second Kirishima spots Fatgum at the end of the corridor he stops being complicit.

He shoves himself forward, taking Bakugou to the floor with him. As he goes there’s a loud bang behind him, a burst of pain above one ear, and Bakugou howls his outrage. Kirishima doesn’t really see where the bullet goes, isn’t sure if it lodges in a wall or ceiling or if Fatgum catches it, harmless, but he and Bakugou are still alive and he counts that as a win, especially with Fatgum storming their way, Edgeshot on his heels, and Bakugou rolling to his feet.

Kirishima doesn’t even bother getting up; he throws himself at Snake’s ankles, taking him out like an American football player. Even without his quirk, even with his head pounding and ears ringing and blood dripping hot to his neck, it’s incredibly satisfying to kick the gun away and restrain Snake. When he looks up Edgeshot is already securing Alligator and Bakugou looks angry about not getting one last hit in.

“Riot,” Fatgum says, and Kirishima turns to look at him, grinning even as he wobbles.

“Hey, Fat. We got ‘em.”

Fatgum’s returning smile is strained, but he claps Kirishima on the shoulder. “Give Edgeshot your man, you should go get checked out. Ground Zero and I will finish up here.”

Bakugou gives Fatgum an angry look, probably not happy about being separated from Kirishima, but even Bakugou knows by now that he shouldn’t let a fellow hero go off alone. Kirishima’s kind of proud of him for that.

“I’ll see you outside, bro, promise,” Kirishima says. He holds out his hand for a fist-bump, still doing his best to smile.

Bakugou rolls his eyes. “Stop calling me bro, Shitty Hair,” he grumbles, but he bumps his fist against Kirishima’s and Kirishima knows the real complaint here is not “we’re not bros,” but “why are you calling me bro when we’re dating,” which he can kind of understand. But—

“Never,” he says, and Bakugou’s lips curve just slightly upward.

In the end there’s not a lot else to do; the other three villains in the heist crew are secured on the first and third floor, and Bakugou fusses over Kirishima all the way to the hospital, not that Bakugou would ever admit to it. But he holds Kirishima’s hand tighter than he normally would, and refuses to leave his side again, not even once. And, after the bullet graze has already been healed by a doctor’s quirk and he asks, something full in his chest, if Bakugou will kiss it better, Bakugou only rolls his eyes once before pressing his lips to the new scar.

“How does it look?” Kirishima asks.

Bakugou hums, squeezes his hand. “Badass. Just like you.”

And hey. He’s stuck in yet another hospital bed, but maybe Kirishima’s day doesn’t end terribly, either.

[lifebeginsbyleaving]

Accidental Amnesia Amnesty

Hello, this is for sterek bingo 2020. I have so many other ideas planned and a few other prompts written so I’m excited to finally be posting them!!! I used the tags mistaken identity and full shift werewolves.(I also used fake relationship, but forgot to say.) So this fic changes some of canon, but everything before the cop car scene and everything after the end of the third episode is canon. I tried to make it fit as well as I could, but this is my first time sticking to canon so closely so I might've missed something. Thanks for reading!!!

All he had to do was not run into Melissa. Easy as pie.

"Stiles?"

Shit.

He spun around with a grin as his jacket flapped in his hand. "Hey Mels bells!"

She squinted in confusion at him. "What are you doing here?"

Stiles scratched his arm and scrambled for an answer. "Well as you know, Scott and I are very close. Arguably the closest. Best friends and all. I was just wondering if you've seen him around?"

She looked at him disbelievingly. "You came here, to my work, to ask where Scott is?"

Stiles took a moment to consider. "Yeah. Sure. I mean, absolutely."

"And you didn't think to, I don't know, call first? Or check the house where Scott would most likely be? And last I knew, usually always is right about now?"

"You know, I should've. I guess it just slipped my mind." Stiles tried to look not guilty as he discreetly hid his bloodied hands and jacket behind himself.

She looked at him for a moment. "Right. Okay, you are going to stay right here and I'm going to call your dad."

Stiles startled. "Oh that's not-"

"Save it mister. I don't know what you're up to, but I have patients to deal with so I can't figure it out. Sit down."

Fuck. Stiles went and sat down to await his doom.

His dad was going to be so pissed. Lately Stiles had been butting into cases a lot. Every time he mentioned something he figured out he saw how much stress he was causing his father by him not staying out of it, but there was this buzzing. This feeling that never left him, not even in sleep, that something was coming. Something big and changing. Something that would hurt the ones he loved if he didn't figure it out. With his very recently widened world view to involve the supernatural, it added even more weight to the feeling. It was this indescribable itch at the back of his mind that only seemed scratched when he was figuring out his father's cases before he could get hurt. But he couldn't explain any of that to his father, so he just played it off as the nosey kid.

His father tried multiple times to keep him away from it, and it worked once his father had been reported. Some jackass told his superiors that Stiles was poking around some old files and now he had a lady from the FBI questioning his every move.

Stiles knew he should just let it go, let it all blow over, but there was something about this. This case. This week. This feeling.

This feeling wasn't just him fearing for his life. This feeling wasn't him wondering if he'd make it through his high school years. This feeling wasn't him worrying about his dad getting shot stopping some punk knocking over a liquor store. This feeling he had didn't even go away once Scott was bit, it wasn't that simple. This feeling wasn't just about his best friend suddenly becoming a creature of the night. This feeling wasn't just one simple thing. This feeling was everything.

This feeling told him that everything before now was what was leading up to something, and everything after would never be the same again. This was Scott and werewolves and there was something about Derek. Something he couldn't figure out. This feeling told him that it was important, it was all important. This feeling told him no matter what, he had to figure it out.

Stiles didn't like not knowing, not being able to trust what he saw.

Looking down at his hands and the blood caked on them he wasn't sure he could trust what he just saw. He didn't know if he could trust the memory because everything just happened so fast.

One moment he was in trouble with his father because he found yet another crime scene, the other half of the body, and the next his father's boss was questioning both of them. Soon enough he slipped away and into the unobserved police car to speak with Derek Hale, well more like accuse. Then he was being pulled back out by his father and getting yelled at while the sheriff looked nervously over at the woman raising an eyebrow and looking more and more sure. His father told Scott to stay so he could talk to him, most likely express disappointment.

He heard chatter as he walked back to his car about how they had a more nailed down date of death, it had been a day earlier than they thought.

Soon enough, he was starting Roscoe and watching the patrol car taking Derek away, along with all the answers. The buzzing, the feeling, was back. The next second he was shifting into gear and following behind the car.

The next hour happened in the blink of an eye.

He was thinking about how the girl/wolf was buried then, there was a big, snarling blur and the patrol car was shoved off the passing bridge.

Stiles swerved to the shoulder before the bridge.

By the time he was looking down to the bottom of the stream, Derek was dragged from the car.

By- by something Stiles couldn't believe. Scott being a werewolf was one thing. That- that hulking scarred beast with hollow red eyes was another.

Stiles stood frozen in the flash of movements as the monster bashed Derek's head against a rock and raked his claws down him as he fought. His hands trembled as the monster's claws dug into the back of Derek's neck and Derek's arms went slack, he stopped grappling with the beast's terrible paws.

It's giant jaws cracked open and it spoke, horrifying Stiles further.

"Forget or you will die like her. You will die like your sister."

Stiles' mind raced to the bat in his Jeep.

He scrambled to get it and in doing so he brushed the string of flowers he had taken from around the body.

A truly stupid idea flashed in his mind as he remembered an article about wolfsbane.

He saw the flower wrapped rock sail and for once his aim was good enough.

It landed with a similar thud as the stone in Stiles' belly as the beast looked down at it then directly into his eyes.

It tilted it's head and sniffed the air, and still he knew this fear, this pants pissing fear, wasn't the feeling he was dreading.

In the blink of an eye he couldn't see the glowing red anymore, but he could still see the stare even as he clamped his eyelids shut.

When he opened them again he saw red, trembling red. The overhead system called out for a doctor of some sort, but all he heard was the sickening crack of skull against rock.

Over- Crack! And over- Crack! And over- Crack! And over- Crack! And over- Cra-

Stiles bolted up and ran.

He threw open the bathroom door and began scrubbing at the blood coloring the swirling cold water. No matter how hard he cleaned his hands it seemed more blood kept pouring onto them.

Two men walked in while talking.

"-Hale is in stable condition."

Stiles was brought out of his thoughts and cycle of seeing himself fail at holding the blood inside Derek's body.

"I don't know how he made it. That kid is a miracle. Some of the injuries weren't as bad as originally thought. Gave the EMTs a real scare with all the blood, I heard. And he's not even in the ER any more, he's in 309. You should see th-"

Stiles was out the door in an instant.

He knew exactly where the room was.

As he went by Melissa, thankfully distracted by an urgent patient, he hid until he could dart around the corner.

He tried to as calmly as possible, run to the room.

Once outside he barged right in. His father wouldn't be here yet, but there wasn't any time to waste. He would be soon.

Looking at the pale man in front of him, everything stood at a stand still. He stared at him and thought for what felt like hours.

What if he woke up? What was he supposed to say? 'Hey, you know I hope you don't hold it against me that I accused you of murder.'

Oh God. Stiles had a fear inducing idea.

If the murdered woman was a werewolf, what if she was murdered by that beast? And Derek was a werewolf too, did that mean- the murdered lady was Derek's sister, and the one the beast was talking about? Stiles accused him of murdering his sister?!

Holy shit.

He so didn't kill his sister. He wasn't the alpha. He wasn't the threat. Or maybe he was. If he was a werewolf he could still be a threat.

Stiles studied him.

Right then he didn't look like a threat. He didn't look scary. Hell, he didn't even look like a werewolf. He looked- broken. And scared, and hurt. And my god Stiles had never seen someone look so sad in the peacefulness of sleep.

It made him wonder if he laid his hand over his if it would comfort him, if he was the type of sad that meant he was just lonely. He looked at Derek and remembered the papers and stories.

His own face twisted in sorrow.

He looked at his prone healing form and knew.

Derek was the type of sad that knew loss. He knew it better than he knew himself to the point that who he was might as well have been added to the body count of people lost to him.

Stiles ached for the man he, up until moments ago, thought and accused of murdering his own sister.

He came closer and stood next to his bed.

The feeling felt wrapped up with Derek some how. Like he was vital to figuring it all out.

He lifted a hand to offer comfort.

The monitors beeped faster and Stiles looked over at them.

When he went to check Derek's face his eyes were open, and glowing electric blue.

"Jesus!" Stiles ripped his hand back.

He looked confused, and alert. "Where am I?"

"Warn a guy!"

"Where am I?"

Stiles huffed. "Where do you think genius? The hospital."

"Why am I here?" He still looked confused, but more calm.

Stiles frowned. "You don't remember the accident? Or the-"

"I was in an accident? Were you there?" Derek's eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "You were there right? You held my head and cried and cursed the ambulance for taking so long."

He paused.

"Who are you?"

Stiles was taken aback. He squinted. "Derek?"

Derek looked at him with a contemplative look, then looked at the tubes going into him with concern. "Who's Derek?"

Stiles didn't have time to process his shock as the door swung open and his father marched in.

"Stiles?!" His father looked furious. "Mieczysław Genim Stilinski!"

Derek's eyes went wide.

Stiles quickly grabbed his hands to cover his claws.

His father took a brief pause at the hand holding, but quickly schooled his face.

Stiles winced. "Hi Dad?" He felt Derek's claws retract.

His dad turned to the woman with him.

"Save it Sheriff. I see the complaints about your gross disregard for procedure by involving your son aren't unfounded. Pray, do tell me there is a reasonable explanation why your own son is in the room with a murder suspect? After the body, the second half that is, I only needed one more reason for your review. It seems now I have one."

Stiles' wide eyes quickly became hard with determination.

Derek looked at him and immediately knew what ever came out of his mouth was going not going to end well, despite knowing him for less than three minutes.

"I have a perfectly reasonable explanation."

His father covered his face with his hand and his shoulders raised to tense against the incoming response.

"Derek is my boyfriend."

Stiles' face was filled with conviction, but the the other three surrounding him went wide with shock.

The sheriff's hand fell from his face as he gaped at his son, but soon enough he turned to Derek. Gone from his gaze was the confusion, now all that was there was a murderous edge as he stared right into Derek's soul.

Derek swallowed and turned to Stiles. "We are?"

The confusion was back ten fold.

"Stiles if this is one of your tricks or schem-"

"Derek doesn't remember anything." Stiles blurted.

All eyes turned to Derek.

That wasn't true. He remembered waking to pain and someone holding him in their lap. Repeating over and over, 'You're going to be okay. We're okay.' He remembered shiny brown eyes and moles. He remembered the hammering of a heart that some how calmed his own as he faded in and out of consciousness. He remembered holding a hand as his body felt like it had been drained of too much to recover from. He remembered thinking he had to hold on, or maybe he was told that.

He remembered having an anchor to reach for.

He remembered all of that but he kept quiet.

The sheriff once again turned to him. "Is that right?"

Derek tried to clear his dry throat. "Which part, sir?"

He fixed him with a hard glare. "Both."

Derek looked to Stiles and considered. He didn't remember anything, so he didn't know if what he said was true. Stiles turned away from his father to look into his eyes and he gave him a very meaningful look as squeezed his hand. Like, 'Hey, agree with everything I say please!'

He looked at him and he couldn't muster up love. When he had looked at the sheriff he felt fear and respect, but looking at Stiles there was no love or even adoration. There was something there though, it felt like he trusted him. He didn't know if it was his face or his eyes, or maybe even that the only memories he had included him.

He turned back to answer honestly. "I don't remember anything before I woke up, and I don't know if we are together. I didn't even know my own name before he told it to me."

The woman spoke up. "I'm sorry wait a second, weren't you the one that found the body. Then you reported Mr. Hale? You reported your own boyfriend?"

Stiles looked at her and narrowed his eyes. "Wouldn't you report your boyfriend if you thought he murdered a lady? I was raised by a cop, not a monster."

His dad came farther into the room and showed obvious unease and pointed looks towards where their hands were still intertwined. "So why are you here now? If Derek really did murder that lady-" He gave Stiles a firm, but consoling look. "I will find out. And he will go to prison."

Stiles felt Derek tense, so Stiles tightened his grip. "He didn't. He didn't kill her."

The FBI agent gave him a cutting look.

His father pushed out a breath as he shook his head. "Kid, you're killin me here. You just told me he did. We literally just came from the crime scene you found and told us he did it."

Stiles set his shoulders. "And now I'm untelling you. Some new information came to light."

Stiles saw the glint of light that every once and awhile reflected off of his father's badge and into his eyes. "New information? Who's your source?"

"I am."

His father gave him a dubious look. "We can hardly take the word of a teenager over evidence. You, yourself found the other half of the body on his property! Stiles you're not dumb, look at the evidence. You might think you care for him and want to protect him, but we can't disregard evidence on the word of a significant other." It looked like every time he had to refer to their relationship, it pained him. "Much less an easily manipulated teenager with an older boyfriend." He gave a pointed, murderous look to Derek. "Which will be dealt with."

Derek turned to Stiles and now that he was more focused he could see the obvious youth that the curiosity in his eyes had hid before.

Stiles stood considering for a moment, then he let go of Derek's hand to face his father. "I know he didn't do it because on the way out I heard Ella say the time of death was a day earlier than you thought."

His father once again looked disappointed. "Stiles what does tha-"

"And he was with me that day."

The FBI agent looked skeptical. "The entire day?"

Stiles addressed her. "I went to school that Thursday, but he saw me right away after. And the medical examiner, Ella, said she didn't die till later at night anyway."

His father once again looked harsh and his face darkened. "How late did he stay?"

Stiles closed his eyes and hoped he wasn't pulling Derek out of the frying pan and into the fire. He looked into his father's eyes. "I knew you'd get off at four, so he left at three. So there was no way he could've killed her."

Derek looked shocked at the new information.

Stiles nervously went to scratch at his head with his still shaking hands and in doing so, brought his flannel away from his body.

The homicidal look his father had melted instantly into one of worry. "Is that blood?!"

Stiles looked down to his t-shirt where a spot of drying blood was causing his shirt to stick to his body. Stiles quickly pulled his hand back down so his flannel would cover it once again.

His father rapidly approached him and ripped his flannel away to inspect the large stain.

Stiles pushed his hands away. "Dad I'm fine."

He quickly grabbed Stiles' hands and looked at the blood still wedged under his nails and he pulled the almost dripping jacket from him.

He looked up with wide frightened teary eyes. "Where? Where does it hurt son?" His voice was commanding despite how it shook.

"I'm fine."

He shook his head and grabbed Stiles' arm.

He looked at the FBI agent as he walked past. "Watch the suspect." He thought to himself, 'So I can murder him later.'

Stiles was protesting being drug behind, but his father simply yelled out a very loud, distraught, "Melissa!"

Stiles saw her look to them right before he was shoved into a different room.

"Sit."

"I'm f-"

His eyes were wild. "If you say you're fine one more God damn time, I'm gonna lose it Stiles! Why the hell are you covered in blood with shaking hands then?"

Melissa came in with a concerned look. "What is it John?"

John just pointed where Stiles was standing near the bed before speaking, "Fix him." He backed away to give her space.

"I'm alright, you don't have to worry."

She turned to Stiles with a puzzling look, but as she scanned him she caught sight of the blood and her eyes went wide just like his father's had. "Oh my god!"

"It's okay."

She ripped his shirt up and away and in her panic she smoothed her bare hand through the blood. She searched for a moment longer and then turned to John. "There's nothing wrong with him."

"I told you I wa-"

His father started to pace and gesture as he talked, "No. No, you fix him! You find what's wrong. He's lying, or hiding it. I don't care if you have to strip him naked like you used to for bath time with Scott! You find what's wrong with my boy! I don't know what's wrong. He hid it from me, I didn't know he was hurting!" He looked at her with a mixture of desperation and concern. "He's covered in blood and he needs to be okay. You need to take my boy and make him okay! My boy is hurt Melissa." His voice broke as he said the last sentence.

Stiles grabbed Melissa's arm and looked into her eyes. "Go back to work, I have to talk with him. I promise you I'm fine."

She nodded, already knowing he was, and left.

"Dad."

His father came near as the door closed and once again his shirt was pulled up.

Stiles placed a hand on top of his. "It's not my blood."

His father looked at him bewildered.

Stiles sighed. "I followed the police car. I was there when the accident happened." He hesitated for a moment. "I didn't see the driver or the truck's plate number, I just saw a big black blur hit the car off the bridge from the side." He took some solace in the fact that at least that part was true. "They drove away as soon as they realized they hit something."

His dad still had a crease of worry in his forehead.

Stiles thought quickly on his feet as he pieced together his story. "I heard Ella on the way out and figured out that it wasn't Derek. So I followed the car to get everything straightened out at the station. But then the accident happened. I went down to check on him and there was just so much. It's not my blood, it's- it's his. I tried- I got there as soon as I could." Stiles thought about the blood pouring and  how the only reason Derek was even in that car was because of him and his eyes began to tear up. "There was so much blood dad. It was everywhere. I- I tried- I thought he would die-" His tears started to spill. "God I was so worried he would die in my arms- that he would die and it would be my fault."

His dad shook his head, but he just continued, "I turned him in for something he didn't do. I put him in that car. I-I - I would've been the reason he died." Stiles' words began to blur together as he spoke faster. "I would've been the one that killed him. His blood would've be- God the blood. There was so much blood. It was everywhere. The blood." Stiles' ears started to ring as he looked down at his hands and felt the sticky warmth he had washed off. "The blood dad. The blood dad. The blood. The blood." Stiles couldn't breathe.

His father pulled him into his arms. "Calm down son. Breathe. In and out. He's fine. You hear me? Derek is fine. You're fine too, you're here. With me. It wasn't your fault. You're gonna be okay. Just breathe for me boy."

"I- I can't. T-T-the blood. The b-b-blood dad."

His father pulled back out of the tight hug and gripped his hands. "Look Stiles. Look at your hands. There's no more blood here."

Stiles tried to focus on his hands and his father kissed his knuckles with teary eyes. "There's no blood Stiles. He's okay."

Stiles focused on his father's hands entwined with his and he tried to calm his breaths.

A few moments passed as he struggled with his lungs.

He nodded to his father and they both exhaled loudly.

Stiles crumpled in exhaustion and his father guided him to the floor as he pulled him back into himself. The sheriff rested his back against the nightstand and Stiles settled in between his legs.

The sheriff hooked Stiles' head underneath his chin. "We're going to have to talk about you and Derek, but right now I just want to know you're safe and out of trouble."

His voice was a soft mumble, "You can't protect me forever. I know it's your job, but sometimes I'm going to do things you don't like. That you think are too risky, but it's just me living my life."

The sheriff closed his eyes and felt a bone deep sorrow. "God, your mom would know what to do, because all I want to do is go into that room and shoot him. FBI be damned, he- he touched my boy."

Stiles internally freaked out and shook his head. He couldn't get Derek off a murder charge by setting him up for sexual assault of a minor charge when he hadn't done either. "No. He never- we never- Derek would never do that. We kept in touch long distance and when he came here that night was the only night I was able to see him. We just played video games and talked. I've never even kissed him."

The sheriff let out a relieved breath. "That still doesn't change the fact that he is twenty-three and you are sixteen." He could tell Stiles was about to say something. He thought about how upset Stiles got when he mentioned Derek being hurt. "But, I can tell how much you care about him. I am in no way condoning this. I am not okay with you being together, at all. I want this relationship to stop immediately. But I do see your care, so I won't kill him."

He tried for a joke, but they both knew if he ever found out that anything had happened he wouldn't hesitate.

"Okay."

"Okay."

They sat in silence for a moment longer.

Stiles worried at his lip and curled his fingers into his uniform. "Hey Dad?"

"Yeah?"

He decided not to look up at him. "Do you care? I mean I know you've said- but like sometimes it's different when it happens you know?"

"What are you talking about?" He asked with fondness.

"Do you care that he's..."

The sheriff pulled him tighter to his chest. "No. Don't you ever think that. If Derek was a nice boy your age and not a murder suspect I'd be inviting him to Sunday dinner. I don't care what your sexuality is- hell me and Melissa have a bet going of when you and Scott will get married. I don't care if you date boys instead."

Stiles relaxed slightly. "And if I want to date girls too?"

"I love you Stiles. Who you love won't change that." His father kissed the top of his head.

"I love you too pops."

They both basked in the comfort of the other for a few more moments.

"Alright we should get up. You have a lacrosse game later and I'll have plenty of paperwork I'm sure. Plus we have to take your statement, I don't know if it will clear his name though. His amnesia complicates things. Besides my back is getting sore."

"Will you need help getting up old man?"

His father pinched his side. "Oh it's like that is it?"

"Sorry I couldn't hear you over the creaking of your bones."

Stiles jumped up and away as his father swatted at him. The sheriff held out a hand and Stiles helped him up with a smile.

Stiles went for the door.

"There's still something you're keeping from me."

His heart sank.

"I don't know if it has to do with Derek or his sister or what, but Stiles you don't have to lie to me. No matter how grown you get it will always be my job, and my highest priority to protect you. I could never lose you."

Stiles nodded his head. "Yeah I know that Dad. I could never lose you either."

Stiles turned the knob and they walked out.

With all the questions his father and the FBI agent had for him Stiles was only able to catch back up with Scott right before the game.

He had decided not to tell Scott anything so he could focus on the game more. He decided it was a problem for another time. Now he needed to make sure Scott didn't shift or kill anybody.

The game went smoothly, well as smoothly as it could've. Stiles was just glad everybody was alive and Mr. Argent hadn't shot Scott.

Everything was great till his father got a call. Ella determined that the cause of death for Derek's sister was an animal attack. Stiles was relieved he was let go, but he knew he had to let Scott know. He wasn't looking forward to that.

Stiles didn't have enough information, and he definitely didn't want to get Scott involved in something he didn't know enough about.

He only told Scott that Derek was let go and he tried to push it from his mind.

He felt bad not taking to Derek after he had lost all of his memories and Stiles had claimed to be in a relationship, but his father was serious. If he so much as heard Stiles and Derek were in the same room as each other he would arrest him.

It was as forgotten as it could be, until Scott had a dream about killing Allison.

Scott wondered about maybe having Derek teach him and with his current state Stiles had to shut it down.

It only worked until Scott saw the man from the bus. Stiles tried to convince him to keep on like normal, to not do anything drastic till they could find out more. He convinced him to not cancel his, now group date, with Allison and to act normal.

But Stiles knew his best friend. If there was a chance Scott would hurt Allison and that Derek could help him not, he would take it.

That's why Stiles was disobeying direct orders from his father and parking Roscoe on the abandoned Hale property. He exhaled heavily. Best to get this over with.

The Jeep door creaked and slammed behind himself.

Derek quickly came out of the front door with a small smile already on his face.

"Scott is going to be here after he gets off work and he can't find out that you don't know shit."

Derek's eyebrows fell, but his lips quirked into a small amused smile. "Are you always this blunt and blatantly disrespectful of social decorum?"

He didn't even stop to be offended or consider. "Yes. We need to make a plan. He can under no circumstances know."

Derek easily jumped on board. "What does that mean? What can't he know?"

"He can't know that you don't know stuff. We went over this, keep up. We don't have all night." Stiles fidgeted.

Derek nodded. "Okay." He opened his door more. "Then you better come in and explain some things. Like who Scott is."

Stiles looked distrustful and unease set his shoulders.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just you well, you you is way more grumpy usually."

Derek frowned. "I'm grumpy to my boyfriend?"

Stiles' eyes widened for a second. He had forgotten about that for a moment. "You're grumpy to pretty much everybody, dude." They walked inside the house and he shut the door behind them.

Derek took a second to think as Stiles checked out the house.

Stiles spoke suddenly, "Oh! Yeah, don't forget to do that with Scott. Be grumpy, slightly mean, and entirely intimidating. Like you eat infants for breakfast."

"I act like I eat infants for breakfast?" He looked displeased.

Stiles didn't think before answering consolingly, "But in a hot way."

Derek opened his mouth and then shut it. He avoided eye contact and Stiles swore his cheeks turned light pink.

Stiles realized what he had said and cursed internally for when Derek remembered everything. That reminded him. He should ask how he's been, but first he had to figure everything with Scott out.

He told him everything that had happened so far. The game, Derek trying to help Scott, them accusing him of murdering his sister, assuring him he didn't kill his sister, the hunters, about Allison and her father, why Scott couldn't know about them dating, and especially about Scott's dream. Everything he thought Scott might talk about he covered.

Stiles took a few deep breaths after his info dump. "Any questions?"

Derek looked uncertain. "What happened with the accident?"

Stiles had left that part out, he didn't know if he could talk about it. Derek smelled the fear, and anxiety.

"We don't have to talk about it if you can't."

Stiles took a deep breath. "Nah dude, it's fine. I was following the patrol car when it hit you. This big- well I still don't really know what it was, but it was terrifying. It dragged you out of the car and- and it hit your head." Stiles' face looked confused. "Then it dug it's claws into the back of your neck. It-it looked up at me and-"

As Derek watched Stiles talk he got a distant look in his eyes. Derek reached out a hand and held onto his shoulder.

Stiles' eyes immediately snapped to his and there was a flash of fear before it melted to appreciation. Stiles took in a few breaths and continued more steadily, "It looked up at me after I threw a rock wrapped in wolfsbane at it. It said, 'Forget or you'll die like your sister.' I think it took your memories somehow. Whatever that beast was took them for a reason. You must've known something that it didn't want you too. I think whatever it took will be important. And it will be important to keeping Scott safe, so I'll help you try to remember. I think it had something to do with your sister. I think that thing hurt her and doesn't want you to figure out why. But even that doesn't make complete sense, why not kill you?"

Stiles was looking at the other side of the room with searching eyes that Derek could almost look through to see the cogs moving. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth in consideration and pulled Derek's focus with it.

He released his shiny red lip and Derek looked back to his eyes dazed. "And this thing with Scott. His dream. The person that attacked the bus driver wasn't Scott, no matter what happened to him I know he would never. Well, I hope. I don't think it was you, but I guess I don't know that for sure. However, this beast, the thing from the accident could've done it. It's the most likely suspect, but I still don't see the motive. Or why Scott is involved. Maybe this thing knew he was a werewolf and wanted something. There's just too many blanks right now. We need more evidence. We need to figure out what, or even more terrifying, who the beast is. We need to find out what it wants with your memories and wanted from your sister and what it wants with Scott. All the while keeping the police, namely my dad, oblivious. Also Scott and you both have to stay away from hunters and not provoke them in anyway until we can figure out more. And Allison. We can't let Scott hurt her. I know my best friend, he would never kill her, but he did attack me, so may-"

Derek looked alarmed. "He attacked you?!"

"Yeah. It was soon after he was bitten though. He's gotten a bit better. I don't think he would attack Allison, but I won't bet her life on it. You need to help him."

Derek furrowed his brows. "How? I don't remember anything, much less have any of the answers to things."

Stiles started to pace. "Okay. You have better control than Scott. Even now. How are you doing it? Scott said it's getting more difficult the closer it gets to the full moon so how are you doing it?"

Derek looked down at his fingers. He had noticed that he had been feeling the urge to shift more. "I don't know how to control it really. It just happens. When I feel my claws about to come out I just stop."

Stiles made a frustrated noise. "Yes, but how do you stop?"

Derek thought about it. In the time since the accident whenever he's felt pain or been stressed trying to remember he's felt the urge to lose control, but he didn't. Derek focused trying to figure out what it was. He didn't know it just happened. He would calm down. He looked up to Stiles and opened his mouth to tell him that, but he stopped.

Stiles.

He closed his mouth again. Whenever he was stressed about the accident he thought about Stiles holding him. Whenever he didn't know what to do he wondered about Stiles and what he was doing. Stiles was his anchor.

He didn't know where that word came from, but it was the only one that seemed right. Maybe he was remembering it.

Stiles let out a breath. "Nevermind, I'll try and figure it out. Let's focus on something else. How are you? Have you remembered anything else?"

Stiles was still pacing.

He had tried to remember. To remember about his sister, or who might have hurt her. He tried to remember anything about his life, but when he looked himself up he stared at the picture from the article about the fire and felt nothing personal looking at the happy large family. He felt sorry for them, he felt sad at the injustice of so many dying, but they didn't seem like his family. He couldn't remember any of their names or anything about them. He tried to remember about other things too. Like where he was before he came here. If he had a job that was wondering where he was. He had a phone, but he couldn't remember his password. Thankfully his computer was unlocked, but all he discovered from that was his porn taste and that he watched a sad amount of Netflix.

The more he found out about his past he wondered if he wanted to remember. If he wanted to remember all of that pain, the misery, the loss. Even his own boyfriend said he was grumpy. Maybe this was a chance to start over, to be better. The old Derek didn't seem like he was doing any good for anyone. Maybe he could. He could protect Stiles, he could help Scott.

"Not really. But would that even be so bad?" He tried to joke lightly, but Stiles whirled on him.

If Derek didn't remember he wouldn't be able to teach Scott and that couldn't happen. Not to mention if Derek didn't remember what the beast took it could kill all three of them and the hunters would have even more of a shot at it. Besides, it was Derek's life. He couldn't forget that. "Yes, Derek! Yes it would be! You are the only person that knows anything about this shit! There are multiple people and things out there trying to kill my best friend and I! Scott needs to learn control or he could hurt Allison and that would destroy him! We need you. We need you to remember."

Derek still didn't look convinced and Stiles already felt guilty for what he was about to do. "I need you." Stiles came closer and grabbed his hand. "I need you to come back to me so you can keep me safe. To keep Scott safe." Stiles stressed about using his emotions like this and about when Derek remembered.

Derek's face softened. "You're right. I'll try my best. You don't have to worry." Derek pulled him into his arms. "I'll keep you safe." Derek picked up on the panic from the man. "What's wrong?"

Stiles allowed himself one more moment to freak out before pulling himself together. "Nothing." He relaxed and practically slumped against Derek as strong arms held him. Stiles gripped the man back just as fiercely. He didn't know the last time anyone had hugged him, but Stiles wanted to at least give him this one.

When they finally pulled back Stiles got back on track. "I've been looking up memory information and I found some things we could try. If you're up for it."

"Yeah we can try it." Derek led them to a soot covered green couch, that despite it's ratty appearance, was quite comfortable.

They both sat and faced each other while they went through multiple exercises, but all he got was vague notions or feelings and that he liked vanilla ice cream.

"I don't think this is working." Derek was frustrated. He put a hand to his aching head.

Stiles caught the movement. "Are you still healing?"

"Yeah. Most of the bruising and broken bones from the crash healed, but there are still some slashes and the back of my neck still hurts."

Stiles frowned in concentration. "I'll look into that too. Do you want to try another exercise? We have time for one more before Scott gets off work and I have to leave."

Derek nodded.

Stiles pulled his lip into his mouth again and Derek was so distracted by the spit coated red he almost didn't realize it was moving.

"Oh! I've got one. I think this one might work, but you really have to concentrate."

Derek nodded distractedly.

"We can try and remember your family." Stiles looked around the room and amended. "From before, before everything happened. Focus on the house. On remembering what it looked like before. What it sounded like. It was probably pretty loud with so many people in one house. Maybe the floor boards creaked." Stiles took in his blank expression. "Close your eyes and remember it."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "You really think that will work?"

Stiles looked exasperated.

"I'll look stupid just having my eyes closed."

Stiles rolled his before closing them. "There? Will that work?"

Derek closed his eyes. "Fine."

Stiles continued, "Picture a spring day, like now. The old leaves would've been dull crisp brown on the ground as new ones grew. You could hear the wind blowing through the trees."

Stiles was good at this. Derek could feel the wind on his face almost.

"People moving around in the house. Your mother maybe making something, your favorite cookies. You could feel the cool wooden floor underneath your feet. The house feels pleasantly warm. The sun peeking through the trees and streaming into the windows." Derek gripped the edge of the dirt covered velvety couch and tried to remember while listening to the sound of his voice. Stiles' heartbeat was another soothing sound as he tried to lead him through the scene. "You could smell the cookies baking along with the smell of your house, your home." Derek inhaled trying to get a whiff of it, but all he got was smoke and the enticing scent of Stiles. "Picture your family gathered around the table and eating all of your favorite foods. Tasting them all." Stiles swallowed and licked his lips before continuing. Derek wondered what he tasted like. "Everyone around the table. You're happy and surrounded by your family. Do you see it Derek?"

He didn't. He didn't see any of what Stiles described. He opened his eyes and looked at Stiles' face and closed eyes.

What was going on around him faded out and he got flashes of the woods. He was walking when he saw two people. Stiles. 'This is private property,' he heard his voice say. But that was all, he was already back in front of Stiles. "Yeah I see it."

Stiles' eyes snapped open immediately with glee in them. "Really?! You do? You remembered something?"

Derek nodded at him with a smile. "Thanks."

"Awesome!"

This was the first thing he had fully remembered and he wanted more. "Stiles, how did we meet?"

He was thrown for a second. "What? Why do you want to know that?"

"I just figured, might as well start with some memories that someone else knows."

This was a bad idea. Stiles didn't actually have any memories with him and lying could fuck up him remembering.

"The doc even said to listen to stories to help me remember, and I don't have anyone else that knows me."

Stiles' gut twisted in guilt. "I'm sorry."

Derek just shrugged. "Not your fault. I just want to hear something about myself, something about you. How did we meet?"

Stiles floundered for a moment. He didn't know what to do, but he supposed he better lie. He decided to try to stay close to the truth. "Your sister and you came home to visit. You found me on your property and basically told me to get lost. But I'm persistent and I don't really know, I guess we just kept bumping into each other. And when it was time for you to leave you gave me your phone number. We haven't been dating long. You didn't want to date someone so young, but I wore you down." Stiles winked at him and tried to seem confident.

"Oh." Derek sounded surprised.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just thought it would've been the other way around."

Stiles laughed. "You thought you would've been the one to chase me?"

Derek looked confused. "Yes?"

Stiles stopped laughing. "Wait, really? Why?"

Derek lifted an eyebrow. "I must've told you, you are exactly my type." He looked through his porn, sue him, and put two and two together and figured it was because he pictured Stiles. But then he found some with women and realized that was just what he liked.

Stiles' mouth dropped open. He was, sex on legs leather jacket wearing wet dream of a bad boy, Derek Hale's type?!

"Why do you look so surprised? We must've talked about it. The disheveled hair. The wide brown eyes. The moles. And fuck God, those lips." Derek stared down at his lips and Stiles licked them nervously. "You are beautiful."

Stiles swallowed and Derek lifted a hand to cup his cheek. He brushed a thumb along blushing cheeks. "I don't know how I didn't move back here immediately to be here. With you."

Stiles' heart was hammering. "Beacon Hills is quite boring. You'd get the man of your dreams, but at what cost? We don't even have a hot topic."

Derek laughed deeply and it made Stiles take a deep breath. "See, you're so funny. You're perfect. God, I could stare into your eyes for days."

Stiles tried to joke again. "What? I thought you said my lips were great. If you're so soon to forget all about them I won't believe you."

Derek smiled. He brushed his thumb along his bottom lip and Stiles held his breath. "Oh believe me, I could never forget these."

"Ironic considering you forgot ev-" Derek leaned in and Stiles cut his own words off before Derek even touched his lips.

Fuck. Derek was kissing him. He was kissing Derek. Derek couldn't remember anything and he was kissing him because he thought they were boyfriends. Stiles was kissing an amnesiac that he convinced was dating him. God, this was all so much like Overboard. Stiles tried to focus. Derek was kissing him, yup that was a thing that was still happening. He looked at Derek's face scrunched in concentration. He nipped at Stiles' lip and he realized he wanted him to kiss him back. God he didn't know what to do! It would hurt him if he didn't. But he didn't want to kiss him because he lied. Derek was insistent and as soon as his tongue swiped Stiles' bottom lip he made up his mind.

Stiles relaxed and closed his eyes. He cautiously started to kiss him back. Derek took that as encouragement. He pushed Stiles back to lean against a pillow and put his head on the armrest. The new angle was weird. Stiles lifted an arm to tangle his fingers in the hair on the back of Derek's head to adjust the angle. Stiles used his other hand to grip one of the arms Derek was using to brace himself over Stiles. Derek was kissing messy and clumsily. Stiles had the sudden thought that this was sort of Derek's first kiss. He was far from an expert himself, but this was Derek's first. Well, not really, but kind of. Stiles wanted to make it good for him. Stiles licked his bottom lip and Derek was eager for the change. Derek was one hell of a fast learner, or maybe he had enough muscle memory. Gripping onto his bicep Stiles thought, 'Yeah he sure has enough muscles for all sorts of memories.'

Stiles pulled back and gulped in greedy breaths of air. Derek was on his neck instantly. He licked and lightly nipped till he moved to his collarbones. Stiles felt a dull pain. "Are you leaving marks?"

He pulled his mouth back barely long enough to say, "No one will see."

Derek's hand crept up his shirt and Stiles gasped. Oh shit, this had to stop right now. "Derek."

He heard a hum before more kisses were left on his neck.

"Derek we have to stop."

Derek looked up at him confused. "What? Why?"

Stiles tried to get himself under control and breathing. "Because Scott will be here soon. He can't know about any of this, he has too much going on already. I also promised my dad I wouldn't see you. Hell, if he knew I was here he'd shoot both of us. And you're not you right now."

Derek's frown turned into a soft smile. He put and arm between Stiles and the couch and he pulled Stiles into a tight hug as he buried his head into his neck. "I'm so lucky I have you."

Stiles swallowed. "Why?"

Derek pulled back and stared at him with a look Scott sometimes got when talking about Allison. "Because, you're such a great friend. And you're a good son. You're even so loyal that you don't want anything to happen with me because I'm not the man you are dating. God you're amazing. You're the best thing in my life I can tell." Derek paused for a moment before looking appreciative and grateful. "The only good thing."

Stiles didn't know what to say back to that so he was glad when Derek pressed one final chaste kiss to his lips. "If not for everything else I don't know if I'd want to remember. Before you came, I was thinking of making a new life where I could forget all the pain. But I'll remember for you. Just for you Stiles."

Stiles smiled slightly. "I should go. He'll be off soon and it's not that far of a drive."

Derek nodded at him with happy eyes.

He walked him outside to his Jeep and even opened his door. "When can I see you again?"

He asked it so hopefully that the guilt twisted at Stiles' stomach once again. "I don't know. We'll see."

Derek reached through the open window to brush his wrist against Stiles' neck. "Don't let it be long. Please."

Stiles nodded with a tight smile. "Make sure Scott doesn't find out. Act mean remember." Stiles added something at the last second. "Oh and wear the jacket."

Derek raised an eyebrow.

"It's intimidating. And-" Stiles abruptly stopped.

Derek smirked. "And?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "And stupidly hot. But I don't think it will have that effect on Scott. Just wear the jacket."

While speaking with Scott Derek tried to do everything Stiles asked. When Scott wanted to know what happened Derek gave him Stiles' tip for remembering and hoped it would work. He didn't want to be so gruff towards his boyfriend's best friend, but Stiles said he had to act normal. And his normal was apparently being an asshole. He wanted to help Scott, but he also wanted to protect him and Stiles both, so if Stiles said this was best for them he would do it. Seeing Scott's defensive posture concerned him. Hopefully he could make that right. Scott needed to like him.

As soon as Stiles left he tried to figure out how to keep them safe. They needed to stick together. He'd read in one of the books in the house that pack was strongest when it was together and omegas were weak. He needed Scott to be in his pack to protect Stiles and himself.

But first he had to send Scott back to the bus. Scott couldn't hurt anyone or Stiles would be hurt. He needed to teach Scott how to control the shift, because Stiles said it was the best thing to do. He hoped Scott would remember something at the bus.

Stiles got home and let out a breath. He sped all the way back home feeling like the person that almost caught them at the bus was still behind him. He closed his bedroom door with a sigh.

Now Scott thought Derek killed the bus driver. Hell, maybe he did. How much did he really know about Derek? Not much. Maybe the amnesia was just some big ploy to get out of custody. But then why would he kiss Stiles? Why would he lie about that? It didn't feel like Derek would do something like that. Stiles still thought it was this beast thing. But if it was that, Stiles needed to explain that to Scott soon. He was keeping him from the worry and stress so he didn't shift before, but now he might not have a choice. Scott would be safer knowing what is after him. But for tonight Scott could go out on a date and enjoy being a teenager. Stiles would stay up and research everything to keep them safe.

Derek's jaw was set as he brushed the glass off his seat to drive his car over to the gas station vacuum cleaner. He almost lost it when the hunter mentioned his family. He didn't feel the love or know them, but that was a low blow. Derek wanted to punch him just on principle, but then he thought of Stiles and what he said about hunters. He had to think about Stiles' lips on his as the man smirked after smashing his window.

He had looked through some more books after Scott had left and found a notebook. It seemed like his sister, the one that came back, wrote it. I was research on hunters. It said something about trying to figure out what hunters started the fire. Derek wondered if the hunters were the ones that had killed his family, or if they had known. If they were the type to bring innocents into it. If they were the type to kill defenseless humans.

Derek put away the vacuum and sped to the hospital. The bus driver might have seen who it was that attacked him. Or at least have more information about what it was, but he just left with more questions.

Like why the bus driver knew his name.

Stiles stared at the picture on his computer screen in shock and fear. The beast was an alpha.

It was Scott's alpha.

Fuck. He had to talk about this with someone. Scott wasn't picking up, probably still on his date. It would be suspicious if Stiles just showed up and dragged him away.

Every time he would blink he'd see those red eyes. Every shadowy corner seemed to reach out with claws. He'd hear a noise outside and feel like it was coming for him. He needed to calm down, he needed to feel safe.

He crept out of the house careful not to wake his sleeping father.

As he was driving it felt like something was chasing after him through the woods beside him. By the time he pulled up in front of the Hale house he could barely breathe. The feeling of someone behind him just kept getting worse. He saw the Camaro with a busted in window and wondered if something happened to Derek. Just as he was opening the Jeep's door Derek came out still dressed despite the late hour even wearing his jacket.

"What? What is is?!"

Stiles got out of the Jeep and ran. He crashed into Derek's chest and tightly grabbed Derek's jacket.

"What is it? Is someone there? Are you hurt?" Derek's arms circled him and crushed him to his chest. Stiles shook his head against his chest and tried not to cry.

This was all so much. Fuck, his best friend was a werewolf now. The person that bit him wants to use him for power and to kill people. There are hunters after him. Scott made first line, but he didn't. Stiles made out with a guy for the first time. He didn't even like guys. Scott could kill Allison on accident. The alpha could show up and kill any of them at any moment.

Stiles could die. Scott could die. Allison could die. Derek could die. His dad could die. Every one he loves cou-

"Hey listen to me, you aren't breathing. You need to breathe. You need to calm down. I don't see anyone. You're safe. Breathe with me."

Stiles listened to Derek's heartbeat and tried to calm his own. "He was- it felt like- like he was there."

"He's not. I promise you he's not. But I am. I am here with you. And I'll protect you."

They stood there holding each other as Stiles slowed his breathing.

"Let's get you inside. It's a cold night."

Stiles smiled up at him. "Derek your house doesn't have heat. It barely has flooring."

Derek smiled. "Look at you, one moment you think you're dying, the next you're ribbing me. You bounce back fast."

"It's a gift. The panic response of a cat in a bathtub, but the elasticity of a rubber ball."

Derek laughed and guided him to the couch once again.

Derek sat down and leaned against the arm rest. He tried to pull Stiles to sit next to him, but he sat with distance between them.

Derek frowned. "Come here."

Stiles scratched the back of his head. "What happened last time, I don't want t-"

"That's okay. We don't have to do any of that now. Or even ever. I just want to touch you."

Stiles' mouth opened.

"Not like that. I just want to hold you. I can sense you are upset. I don't know there's just something that makes me need to make sure you're okay. To have you close."

Stiles nodded. He scooched closer and Derek moved his legs out of the way.

Stiles was hesitant. "Can I- can we, cuddle? I know it sounds stupid, but-"

"Stiles?"

"Yeah?" He tensed for being kicked out.

"Get your ass over here and cuddle me."

Stiles smiled and nestled in between his legs. He rested his head on Derek's shoulder and laid sideways. Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles.

"You're good at this." Stiles sunk into the comfort of his warmth.

"What? Cuddling? Did you think I wouldn't be?"

"No. Well, yes. With the grr I wear leather and the general don't touch me attitude, also I thought the muscles wouldn't be the best pillow. But surprisingly, you're great at this."

"You're great at this too. You're warm and smell amazing."

For some reason that made Stiles blush. "Thanks big guy."

"Do you want to talk about it or to think about something else?"

Stiles did want to think about something else, but he had to talk about this. "The beast. It's a werewolf. That can do the full shift, which is very rare. That's the whole reason we don't know who it is. Werewolves that can do the full shift are more powerful, but can lose control and not shift back easier. I think it's an alpha. The alpha i-"

"Alpha?"

Stiles lifted his head up to look at Derek. "Yeah, why?"

"She, my sister, in her notebook wrote something about finding the alpha. It was very vague and I didn't understand until now, but that's what she came her for. To find the alpha. It's what got her killed."

Stiles smelled stressed again. "And now it wants Scott. No matter what he thinks, you didn't bite him. You're a beta, if what I read is right you couldn't have. The alpha did. And now it wants Scott in its pack." Stiles looked worriedly at Derek's eyes for a second, before thinking about Scott's safety instead.

Derek laced their fingers together after Stiles started to chew on his bottom lip in worry. "We'll deal with it. We'll make our own pack." Derek kissed his knuckles.

"Scott thinks you're a murderer. And that you bit him."

Derek smiled. "Something tells me you can be persuasive when you want to be. Besides, his best friend is the most important person in my life, he's got to come around some time."

Stiles squirmed and looked away. "Don't say stuff like that."

Derek smiled. "Why not? Does it make you uncomfortable? It doesn't for me. I know next to nothing, except how you make me feel. I woke up scared in the hospital with nothing but you. I had the memory of you holding me, taking care of me. I don't see any reason in not loving you with everything in me when there is so many things I'm unsure of, because you are definitely not one of those things."

Stiles looked at him with tears in his eyes. "No one except my family and Scott has ever spoken to me like that."

"Like what? Certain?"

"Like they could spend their whole life loving me and it would never be enough. Like I matter to them."

"It wouldn't." There was so much adoration in his eyes Stiles had to close his before a tear slipped out.

"Don't say that." The guilt and disgust at having lied to him tore at his insides.

Derek brushed the tear from his cheek. "Why? I told you I am not afraid."

"Because you don't mean it." Derek went to open his mouth, but Stiles continued, "You don't know enough to mean it. You hardly know anything about me. You don't know what our real relationship is like. You don't even know what you like to eat for breakfast. I'm taking advantage of you and I feel awful for it."

Derek shrugged. "I'm legally taking advantage of you."

Stiles scoffed. "Just because we're both doing it doesn't make it right."

Derek considered that. "That's true. This is what makes it right." Derek kissed him gently and Stiles was weak against it.

Stiles pulled back. "I should go. My dad could wake up."

"Or we could kiss some more and then you could go home."

That was a terrible idea. "That's a wonderful idea. Thank you for sharing. And like I always say sharing is caring. We should all be more caring. The world re-" Derek cut him off with a press of lips.

"Oh I'm sorry were you saying something?"

Stiles gripped his shirt and pulled him upwards toward himself. He kissed him in a way that made Derek feel like his brain melted while running his hands through his hair.

Stiles pulled back and admired the view. Derek's best look was definitely dazed and disheveled. "We'll have to figure out the Scott thing later. And the alpha thing. And the hunter thing, I'm assuming that's who smashed you window? How rude." Stiles kissed him again.

"And probably have to keep my dad out of it at some point."

Derek vigorously nodded. "Oh definitely, but not right now." Derek kissed him again.

Stiles got lost in it and soon enough he had a hand up Derek's shirt. He ran his hand up and down his muscles before remembering to be careful for the slashes. The ones he couldn't find. Had Derek healed? Stiles moved his other hand down from Derek's hair to brush along the back of his neck. Derek brushed his thumb along Stiles' hip right as Stiles felt the claw marks heal under his fingertips.

Derek pulled back and Stiles knew instantly from looking into his wide unsure eyes.

Derek remembered everything.

He pushed Stiles back harshly and stood up. "Wh-what. We're not- no. We're not." He furrowed his eyebrows at Stiles. "You lied."

"Derek please, just let me explain!" Stiles scrambled to get up and in the motion his shirt moved to show a mark. A mark Derek had left.

Derek's eyes went wide. "I- I kissed you." Flashes of a convincing woman and feelings of uncertainty but gratitude filled him.

Stiles was hurt by his tone. "Please, sound more horrified if you could."

"You need to leave."

Stiles took a step to get closer, but Derek took one back. He could tell he wasn't going to leave without a reason.

"Stiles this isn't some childish game. You tricked me, you lied."

Stiles looked down. "I know and I'm so fucking sorry for that, but I had to. I had to protect my dad. Then I had to make sure you protected Scott, but then I let it go too far. I'm sorry."

This was all wrong. Stiles wasn't the one who did something wrong. Derek was. "You need to leave and I don't ever want to see you again, unless it has to do with Scott." Derek set a look of certainty and anger he didn't feel into his eyes.

Stiles shook his head and reached for his hand. "I can fix this. Scott needs you, I need y-"

Derek couldn't hold back. "You need to leave! You needed to never come here. You needed to have never met me."

"You're not the bad guy here Derek."

Derek needed to push him away to keep him safe. Because if he was with Derek he would get hurt. Everyone Derek cares about gets hurt. "You're right. You are. You're the pathetic little bastard that tricked me into caring about you because it's the only way anyone ever would. I take back what I said, I take it all back. You aren't a good son. You got your father in trouble because you can't keep your nosey ass out of things too big for you. You are the one that got Scott bit. You took him out to those woods. If the alpha kills him, it'll be on your hands."

Derek was grateful he could hold out until he heard the Jeep rattle away before emptying his stomach outside. There had been screaming and tears, but mostly it was the choking sent of Stiles' hurt that Derek would remember. But after he slammed the Jeep door, gone was everything except the emptiness. He just felt hollow and disgusted at himself. Right before he hurled he thought about how now he was just like her.

Stiles drove home through tears. He was just coming up the stairs as his dad came out of his room.

Shit. Now he had to deal with this.

"What are you doing? I put out a curfew, damn it Stiles! Where were you?"

Stiles thought fast and hoped it was too dark and late for his dad to notice his puffy eyes. "Scott had his first date with Allison. He didn't want to wait to tell me tomorrow."

His dad's face softened. "Kid, one of these days you'll be the death of me. Did it go well?"

"Yeah, they're thinkin a spring wedding and six kids will be enough."

"He's that gone on her?" His dad chuckled.

"Worse." Stiles noticed his father's uniform. "Wait, why are you dressed?"

His dad opened his mouth, but Stiles cut him off. "You know I'll just find out."

His father sighed. "The bus driver. He's dead."

"Someone got into the hospital?"

"No. He succumbed to his wounds."

Stiles nodded. "So you have to go in."

His father kissed his forehead on the way out. "Sleep well kid."

He heard his father's patrol car leave and he waited a few moments before rushing to Scott's.

---

They never talked about Derek losing his memory. Derek went back to his asshole self and Stiles tried not to be hurt by it. All the while Derek felt guilty for being like Kate and Stiles was hurt from Derek's harsh words that he tried to remember weren't true. But for some god damn reason they never stopped trusting each other. He helped him with the bullet without talking about it. He held him up in the pool. Derek protected him from Issac. They even helped each other when they figured out it was his uncle, and that it was the reason he had tried to take Derek's memory. So Peter wouldn't have to kill his nephew. Derek was there for the nogitsune. Stiles saved him from Mexico. There were so many things they made it through together, and yet they could never get over it.

Sometimes he would look at Derek and feel like they were just a moment away from taking about it, but then it would pass and they would forget all over again.

Almost like amnesia.

A.N. So thanks for reading!!! It means a lot and I appreciate it. I don't know if I'm too happy with the end right now, but it is completed. I might do a part two idk yet. Have a great day/night!!!

Carter😊

[eleanor-devil]

Boruto: Sacrifices [Remade] | Chap.10 - Hardest Battle

Written by: Eleanor-Devil & @mirage-05​​

Prologue | Chap.1 | Chap.2 | Chap.3 | Chap.4 | Chap.5 | Chap.6 | Chap.7 | Chap.8 | Chap.9 | Chap. 10 - You’re here

Checking on her daughter to make sure she was tucked in safely, Hinata’s eyes drifted back to the clock on the wall. Naruto was running late… Of course, that wouldn’t be the first time. The woman had adjusted to the life as the Hokage’s wife smoothly and without a complaint, she knew Naruto’s dedication to his duties and that was one of the many qualities she admired in the man she loved. And with the village still on high alert after the recent attack, she knew it was Naruto’s top priority to see the village to safety and peace once again before being able to rest properly. But it wasn’t very usual for him to call Boruto to his office at such a late hour. It was already past midnight… and something nagging at the back of her mind gave the woman a chilled feeling. She sighed and leaned down to gently caress Hima’s hair as the little girl mumbled and shivered in her sleep. And just then, there was a soft knock on the door. As quietly but quickly as she could, Hinata went down the stairs. She opened the door and came face to face with her husband. Or well… a clone of his. For her Byakugan induced eyesight, even when the dojutsu wasn’t activated, it was a very clear distinction. “Naruto…” she whispered, concern and apprehension in her voice, especially because she noticed the grave look on his face. “Hinata-san…” Ironically, the clones would always address her with honorifics, although it was a little awkward for the young woman. “Naruto-san will not be able to come home tonight. There has been another attack.”

The woman’s heart skipped a beat. “Is it… bad…?” she managed to ask, her mind immediately snapping to her son. “No, it has already been thwarted, but…” Naruto’s voice faded away as he had to look away for a minute. “But… something unfortunate has happened.” “Naruto…” Hinata was almost hesitant to ask. “Boruto’s friend, Mitsuki… he was attacked by the assailants. He was taken to the hospital, and both Naruto-san and Boruto are with him now.” The woman’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes widening. Shock was still the dominant expression on her features when she was eventually able to lower her hands a minute later. “A-and how is Mitsuki-kun…?” Naruto sighed. “We don’t know all the details yet but… I’m afraid it doesn’t look very good. We will keep you updated.” Not able to say anything more, Hinata just nodded, and had to lean against the door sill as the clone disappeared in a puff. … The first thing Shikadai noticed as he was heading to the border for his patrol duty was that there was an abnormal activity in the village for this late hour. The jounins were rushing everywhere, apparently in a big hurry, and whispers… there was a great deal of whispering going around. And although he didn’t stop to listen to most of them because duty was awaiting, the young Nara caught some words… “new attack”... “genin”... Just what was going on…? Well… surely he would find out when he reached his post. He had always viewed these late-night patrols as a kind of a drag, but now he was feeling anxious, restless… At first, it didn’t seem like anyone was going to pay attention to him when he arrived at the border. It had been almost a solid minute before he finally came across a familiar face. “Mirai!” The young woman strode over to him, looking a bit distraught and… very confused. “Shikadai… what are you doing here?” “Uuugh… I have the next shift...” “Oh…” This fact, for some reason, seemed to be an inconvenience to the Sarutobi. “Look… the circumstances have changed. You are no longer on patrol duty.” “What? But…” Now he was more alert and anxious than ever. “Mirai, just… what’s going on? I heard something about a new attack…” A pensive look settled in Mirai’s red eyes. “Yes… there has been an attack not even an hour ago. It was thwarted, but…” She didn’t continue for a moment. Shikadai’s eyes widened. “The genin…” The woman sighed. “I don’t know all the details… Only that… apparently Konohamaru-nii-san’s team got involved and now they’re in the hospital. I don’t know which one of them got hurt.” She might not, but with a sinking feeling in his stomach, Shikadai realized he probably had a good idea who. After all, there was only one known hot-head in the team. Mirai clamped a hand on his shoulder, giving him a small but gentle smile. “There’s nothing for you to do here now. Just go home and rest.” As she turned and walked away from him, the Nara muttered to himself. “Sure… I’ll do just that.” ... He had a bad feeling about this. He had just barely seen Kurama bringing in two men before a call came from the hospital, stating that 0 blood type was needed immediately. So, curious as he was, and being also someone that happened to have that blood type, he had rushed to the hospital. To put it mildly, there was total chaos going on. It took Kakashi a while to finally stop a nurse. "I came for the blood donation..." "Oh, Lord Sixth," a relieved look came over the nurse's face. "You are type O, right? Please, follow me." She brought him to a small room. Kakashi was too wired up to sit still. "What is the situation?" he asked as the needle pierced his skin. "The Hokage will come here to inform you in a second." the nurse said simply. Indeed, as soon as the nurse finished and rushed out with the blood bag, Naruto walked in. "I'm so glad you could come, Kakashi-sensei..." "What's going on, Naruto? I came as quickly as I can..." "Just in time, too. The surgery has only begun a few minutes ago, we needed immediate-" Before Naruto could finish, there was a ruckus outside. “Yamanaka Inojin, I thought we taught you better manners than to come barging in a hospital!” “But we came for the blood donation too!” “You don’t have the correct blood type, young man.” “These are our friends we are talking about!” Perplexed, the Hokage turned to the door of the room as six agitated-looking genins indeed pretty much barged in, followed closely by a strict and exasperated looking Ino. “Lord Seventh, forgive me, I did try to stop them.” Naruto nodded wordlessly to her. The kids, on the other hand, seemed to have totally forgotten about hospital rules in their panic, they all started talking at once. “Lord Seventh - I heard it on the news-” “And I spoke to the border guards-” “Where are Boruto, Sarada and Mitsuki?” “Are they okay?” As they paused for a minute to catch their breath, Kakashi leveled a gaze to his old student. “I’d say you owe an explanation to all of us.” Naruto sighed before conceding with a nod. “I will. Let’s just move out of here.” … “Boruto…” the young Uzumaki heard Sarada’s voice all of a sudden, which was the only thing that made him turn away from the doors that directed to the surgery room. He didn’t even have time to blink as two blurred green and purple shapes moved forward, and a second later he was being hugged tightly by Metal and Sumire. “You- you guys…” he managed to stammer as he felt a pang in his heart. “We heard about the attack…” Metal said sadly as they pulled back. “But I didn’t imagine it would be… damn…” Shikadai shook his head as he took in his best friend’s appearance, mainly… his blood-soaked shirt, that was something hard to miss… especially when said shirt used to be white and it was now massively tinted in dark red. “Lord Seventh told us what he could…” “Is Mitsuki-kun gonna be okay…?” Sumire asked in a tiny voice. “We… we don’t know…” Sarada stammered in a shaky voice, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Well, we didn’t come too long ago… All we know is… he left us a letter telling us he was leaving Konoha and-” “What?!” was the collective response they received from their friends, which resulted in a passing nurse shooting a disapproving look at the group and then hushing them. “What do you mean, leaving Konoha?” Inojin said at last, flabbergasted. “Yeah… that’s one thing he’s gonna have to answer to us for when he gets better…” Boruto’s voice faltered as he looked at the doors again, and his next word was almost inaudible. “If…” “Hey hey, what’s with the pessimistic attitude?” Chocho said, rubbing her best friend’s arm. “Mitsuki is strong, right?” “One of the best in our class,” Metal added with a kind smile. “There’s no way he will just give up like that, I won’t believe it!” Iwabe supported them firmly. They were finally able to bring a thin smile to the faces of the remaining members of Team Konohamaru. “Thanks guys…” Just then, Ino approached them. “I appreciate your concerns about your friends but you really can’t all stay in here, and there’s no point, we don’t know how long the surgery will take.” The kids definitely looked reluctant to leave, but there was nothing to it. One by one, they bid goodbye and started to leave but Shikadai didn’t move. “I will stay with you guys.” he said determinedly. ”I won’t be able to rest properly if I don’t know Mitsuki is okay.” … There was no news. Simple as that. It had been hours now and there was still nothing about Mitsuki's state and how the surgery was going. There had already been an exchange between the medics and they all looked exhausted, it was clear to the adults that the situation wasn't good... Naruto was trying to control himself from pacing around the halls, it would only put the kids nervous, and right now they were calm, smiling softly at something they were watching on Boruto's phone, they did not need to have a nervous crisis because of him. So instead of pacing, he sighed... again. He looked sideways at Orochimaru, who... hadn't changed his position much or at all since his son had been taken down the hall, standing at the very same spot, not having even moved an inch. His arms were crossed, his fingers tight. His eyes, hard and cold as steel, were glued to the surgery hall's doors. Minutes ticked away, slowly, agonizingly turning into another half an hour... 'Please...' Naruto thought, closing his eyes for a minute. 'Please help him... Please let this turn out alright...' The doors of the hall opened and everyone's eyes turned to it but no sight of Mitsuki in his bed. Instead who came out was one of the medics. He didn't look exhausted but he seemed close to it, so Naruto guessed it was yet another shift. But instead, the medic stopped close to him before bowing. "Lord Hokage..." he started. His heart skipped a beat and he tried his hardest to not think of every single thing that could have gone wrong inside that surgery room. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Ino and Kiba moving a little closer to the kids, while Sasuke, Konohamaru and Kakashi moved closer to him and the medic. The Hokage gulped once, and although keeping the calm tone to it, his whisper came out a little strained. "How is he holding up?" The medic sighed through the mask. "He lost a lot of blood but thanks to the donation he is stable. The surgery is still going but it's very complicated. His heart was damaged by the lightning, I'm afraid that will leave a scar but..." He stopped for a moment before he continued. "...but that will be the least of his problems if he... if he survives..." 'If...?' The hollow word echoed in the man's mind, leaving behind horror and a terrible sadness...  He slowly raised his hand to grab the front of his cloak, where his heart is. It felt like he couldn't hold it in place... "What... what do you mean, the least of his problems...?" The medic sighed again before looking back at the Hokage. "Lord Seventh... if the boy survives this... it will be a miracle if he doesn't get a heart condition after that lightning trauma he suffered to his chest... all in all I’m afraid to say that his heart might become very weak." The silence the medic's words left behind was... deafening. A lump had formed in his throat, and trying to gulp it down, Naruto felt a lone tear making its way down his cheek. "Excuse me... I need to go back." "Thank you..." he managed to whisper. Please... please bring the child back to us, safe and sound, he wanted to add... But words simply didn't form… “I just don’t get it…” Konohamaru muttered, his hands pushing hair out of his eyes, although the motion looked more like he was pulling his hair out. “Mitsuki wouldn’t just barge in battle without fully assessing his enemy, he knows better… And lightning is his second main chakra nature, he never once lost a battle that way…” "You said that he sent a distress message to you?" Kakashi intervened. "Yes..." Something then clicked on the Hokage's mind, and he turned to look at his former sensei. "You think he heard something he shouldn't and had to defend himself when he was attacked?" "Well, that would be my best guess. Or he tried to turn back and warn the guards, and that was when those ninjas found him." The older man's tone was disgusted. "It's something we will know once the interrogations are over." "Heartless cowards," Konohamaru growled, so mad that he was shaking. "So they thought it was easier to go all out against a child... Didn't even have the courage to face stronger ninjas..." Silence once again reigned over them as they returned to their torturous wait. Sasuke glanced over his friend for a brief second, then walked over to him. "Naruto..." he said silently, apparently only for him to hear. "Maybe it's not the time for this but... We should also consider the possibility that the boy could have some connection with those ninjas." The Hokage's head immediately snapped to him, a confused look on his expression. "What is that even supposed to mean?" "You know what I mean. Maybe this was not a coincidental attack." Naruto's eyes hardened, so much so that they looked like two dark storm clouds. "You are right. This is not the time, nor the place." "We can't just disregard this. For just one time, use your head. With Orochimaru here-" "That's enough." the blond cut in, and his tone was so sharp and unrelenting that Sasuke had to close his mouth, only with a slight frown on his face. "There is a child in there, the same age as our children, fighting for his life. Put your heart in it for once, and just pray." They didn't say anything more to each other after that. Naruto glanced once again at the Sannin, who had not moved, at all. Realizing that he had to tell him about what they had learned, the Hokage took a deep breath, gathering his courage, and approached the older man, Sasuke right behind him. "Do not waste your breath." the man practically spat out of his teeth. "I heard all of it." "Orochimaru..." Naruto tried to start, but he was cut into yet again. "So you all think that my son is somehow related to those ninjas?" the man continued, and the blond had to gulp, not knowing what to say. "Be glad... be glad that my son tried to protect your worthless lives even when he was barely clinging to life, because if I had not promised him... We would not be having this conversation right now." The Hokage closed his mouth in a tight line when those words left the Sannin's mouth. He didn't know what promise Orochimaru had made to his son but he was clearly holding on to it... "What... promise?" he dared to ask. "A promise to not crush this village. He seemed to think this was not your fault... Although I fail to see why." The Sannin's voice was almost emotionless until this point, but the hint of a dangerous threat etched its way to his tone as he spoke next. "Just know this... My promise is only ever valid if Mitsuki makes it out of there... So you better start praying that he keeps holding on." he finished in a low, venomous hiss, his eyes moving to Sasuke for a fraction of a second. Naruto felt another lump in his throat but didn't look away... Instead he looked into the Sannin's cold golden eyes. "That is not the only reason why I am praying." The Sannin just kept glaring at him with those icy eyes, unimpressed. After a moment of assessing the Hokage, he finally spoke again. "Tell me one thing. Why... did Mitsuki decide to leave Konoha in the first place?" Naruto didn't know what to say... the situation was already bad enough as it was, with Orochimaru threatening to end Konoha if Mitsuki didn't survive... What would he do when he found out about the harassments...? But... he couldn't hide it either... better tell the truth now. Sighing, he looked down. "Three days ago... there was an attack in Konoha's orphanage. Everything pointed that it had been you behind the attack and... Mitsuki suffered the consequences of that. Because he is your child..." And just like that, Orochimaru felt his careful control slipping, albeit only a little, and managed to control the shaking of his hands, of anger. "So that was your idea of peace...? I thought Konoha had become a better place... Yet my son had to suffer the aftermath of an attack - which I have not even heard of, mind you." He was silent for a moment, and then squinted. "What kind of consequences?" he demanded, a dangerous tone audible in his whisper. This caught Naruto's attention. He knew that the Sannin, from years of experience, would praise an attack if he had been the one behind it but... that wasn't the case now. "You mean you weren't behind the attack...?" "I guarantee you, if it was indeed me behind the attack, I would not go into hiding like some coward," he hissed through his teeth. "I always play my cards on the table, if you did not notice that just a moment ago. What motive would I have to attack your village?" A venomous glint came into his eyes as he asked once again. "What kind of consequences?" Naruto gulped... No... he couldn't just go and say that the clans were the ones behind the harassments against Mitsuki, not when he was dealing with Orochimaru. "Children... that's all... they played some... pranks against Mitsuki." "Do you think... even for a minute... that I believe my son was driven out of the village because of some childish pranks...?" His anger and hatred were brewing deeper down. He hated being lied to - especially when he was doing the exact opposite. "Tell me the truth." What could he do…? Orochimaru was clearly losing his patience. But he was the Hokage and although the clans were at fault, he couldn't expose them like that "I..." he started. "The clans did it. They ordered harassments to be held against your son." A new voice joined the conversation and although Orochimaru just moved his eyes, Naruto turned his head completely in Sasuke's direction. "And they were done, by children." "Sasuke...!" Naruto hissed, low. The Uchiha eyed his friend with his usual calm look. "Those people are grown-ups, Naruto. They knew clearly what they were doing. If they had courage to do that then they also should have the guts to deal with the consequences." He eyed his former sensei once again. "Children, however, can be very easily manipulated into the best soldiers, they don't question, they don't think if it's right and they don't think of consequences." "Oh, there will be consequences, you can be sure of that. If Mitsuki doesn't survive... the clans won't survive to see another day. I guarantee you will suffer for all eternity." He silently added, 'Like I am now...' in his head, his mouth a thin, straight line. "The matter is already being taken care of..." said Naruto. "The clans are not going unpunished for what they did, I assure you of that." The Hokage then sighed, the matter from before suddenly returned to his mind. "I still don't understand...why they would attack him... Kakashi-sensei theorizes that he might've heard something..." "He would not let rogue ninjas discover him...!" He had taught the child better than that... "But in any case, he should not have been there alone." His gaze once again drifted to the doors of the surgery hall. "Especially not tonight..." The last part did catch both Naruto's and Sasuke's attention. The Uchiha narrowed his eyes as he eyed the Sannin carefully. "What do you mean by 'especially not tonight'...?" "Ever since he was little... I noticed the moon has a powerful effect on Mitsuki." the older man began. "At nights with the full moon, he would always be full of energy, there were nights he would just stay up, training or doing other things that would normally wear people down. On new moons though... he would become so weak, sometimes even to the point of falling sick." He jerked his head to the window that was not too far from them. "What moon do you think tonight is?" Naruto's eyes widened as he recalled that in that night, before Mitsuki had come to say goodbye, he had casually looked up at the night sky and noticed there was no moon. "Crap..." he murmured. Sasuke was surprised for a moment but was quick to recover. "I see... does that influence his chances of survival as well...?" At Sasuke's question, the Sannin didn't bother to say anything, his only answer was the closing of his eyes and his fists tightening a little more. As the two stayed silent, it was clear that their talk was over. He had nothing more to say, anyway. He was already going through a plan to crush all those meddling clans... The deep silence was killing Naruto, pretty much all that could be heard in that hall right now was the sound coming from the video that Boruto and Sarada were watching on the cellphone. Sighing, the blond looked at Orochimaru before asking. "How...far does the moon affect Mitsuki...?" The Sannin sighed, nearly regretting having let this information at their disposal. "The child is affected by the full cycle of the moon, as per say. As I have said, when it is nearing the full moon, he is energetic, lively, he would be hard to handle. The waning moon has the opposite effect. He would mostly spend all the night in his room, sometimes not even coming out of the bed. I remember during one cycle he got really ill, Karin had to stay up all night..." Not a random choice for name at all, he thought, his mind was far away... If what Orochimaru was saying was the full truth then Mitsuki was extremely vulnerable and weak when the ninjas attacked... had he known that it was new moon night? Had he known he would be weak at that very moment? Naruto wanted answers... badly... "I have never heard of such a thing before... I wonder why it affects him." A humorless, cold smile came to his face. He glanced for a short while to the window again, before turning his gaze back to the door of the hall. "You are aware Mitsuki is not an ordinary human, are you not?" he said simply. Orochimaru was and always will be a full mystery that Naruto would never understand... even his current words had left him more confused than ever but... he did not dare to ask for the meaning of it because he was sure... that if Orochimaru wanted them to know, he would have let them know. … Shikadai looked up at the adults with a worried look on his face, he had caught up to a couple of words from the conversation, not the full length, but it was enough for him to get the scope of it… This was serious, Mitsuki’s condition was very serious… Thankfully, though, Boruto and Sarada didn’t seem to have heard it, they were focused on the videos and photos including Mitsuki on the blond’s phone, and Ino-san had been careful about diverting their attention too. Determined to keep things that way (because heaven only knew that they couldn’t handle a breakdown from the two right now), the Nara tried to force an uplifting tone in his voice. “Hey, Boruto, why don’t you show us the next photo?” Boruto smiled a bit at his friend before turning back to face his phone, he slid his finger across the screen to the next picture but actually found a video. At the beginning he couldn't remember well what that video was about but as the scenes started going, his smile widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Aren't there safer ways to go on ice?" came a voice, and by the closeness of it, it was clear that the speaking person was the one who was holding the camera. The voice was easily recognizable as Mitsuki's. "Oh come on, are you telling me that you're chickening out?" a figure suddenly skated into the frame, and they were all looking into the widely-grinning face of Boruto. "If you consider making sure I don't break a leg, an arm or even lose my teeth, chickening out then so be it." replied the voice to which the Boruto in the video rolled his eyes before moving a bit away from the camera. "Aw fine. At least make sure you get everything on record, because I'm planning to use my amazing skating skills to-" WHAM! Not exactly looking at where he was going while boosting, Boruto had skated, turned around in what was supposed to be a graceful twist... and had slammed right into a huge trunk of a tree. Needless to say, Mitsuki's chuckles soon echoed through the whole video sound and it was clear that he was trying to calm himself down as the camera moved closer to Boruto and he tried to speak in between laughs. "Are you okay?" "It's not funny," the pout Boruto pulled off was so... cute and funny that in a moment, more laughter could be heard, while those who were watching the video just smiled brokenly. "Delete this, will you?" "Oooh no," Mitsuki said with a chuckle. "This, I'm definitely keeping." "No, come on man!" All that the camera was filming right now was the greyish winter sky, meaning that Mitsuki must have raised it really high so Boruto couldn't reach it. "Give it back, Mitsuki! That's so uncool!" "Nuh-uh," that was all that he got for an answer. As the only sounds after that were heard, which were the two boys horsing around and finally falling back on the ice, the video came to an end. Boruto was now gazing at the screen with slightly teary eyes, a small, fond smile on his face. "I never thought I would be glad he kept this..." he mused, then gulped. He had forgotten about the video altogether... Ino didn’t know what more comforting words to offer, it didn’t seem like anything she could say reached these two right now, so… out of her motherly instinct, she just reached out and held the blond in her arms. ... It had felt like ages... When he finally heard the doors of the surgery hall open and a general shuffling as everyone gathered, Boruto practically jumped to his feet, and the phone slid from his fingers, hitting the ground with a thud. Slowly, the stretcher on which his best friend was lying was pushed out, followed by the nurses and medics and finally Sakura and Tsunade, all of them looked very tired. It wasn't like the blond could notice anyone but his best friend right then, though. Mitsuki looked... almost peaceful, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. He could've easily been just sleeping, if not for the fact that his skin was even paler than usual, and he was covered in bandages, everywhere... His friend never seemed younger to him then he did right now. "Please, give us some space." one of the nurses urged, and Boruto noticed pretty much everyone had gathered around the stretcher. The adults drew back slightly, but Boruto, Sarada and Shikadai remained by Mitsuki's side as he was brought to his room. The Nara, for once in his life, seemed to be at a loss of words. They watched in silence as the staff connected their friend to some machines, including an oxygen supply and the heart monitor, filling the room with steady rhythms in a second. Sarada brought her hands to her mouth, trying to hold back her sobs. As Sakura and Tsunade came out after the nurses, the three approached them. "Mama, can we... go inside?" Sarada asked in a tiny voice. Sakura sighed and thought about it. "Only for a little while," she said finally. "He needs his rest." The children quickly nodded as they immediately walked inside the room. In less than a second, they were by Mitsuki's side. Boruto and Sarada grabbed his hands and squeezed them a little, not too tight of course... “Dammit, Mitsuki…” Shikadai mumbled with a catch in his voice. “How did you even get into this…?” "He’s an idiot, that’s how..." Boruto said in a whisper as he looked at his friend, biting his lip. "...do you have any idea of how much you scared us...?" Sarada sighed, Boruto was right, but if Mitsuki was hearing them, as some people claimed that while sleeping people could still hear the others on the outside… that sure wouldn't cheer him up. "He is right but… don't listen to him now..." She smiled softly. "You're going to be okay now and that's what matters..." The adults had gathered in front of the room, silently gazing inside, relieved that the kid had made it through the surgery even with such serious injuries. Konohamaru felt pride filling his heart, trying to drown the sorrow inside, as he looked at his students. "He is going to be alright..." he mumbled, more to himself than anyone really. "He sure is..." said Naruto softly. It was apparent in his features... he was grateful to God for having listened to their prayers. The Sannin was trying his hardest to keep his emotions at bay as he watched his son fighting for his life. He had always been the fighter, the strongest... His warrior spirit had not failed this time, either. He realized that he was proud... and glad - really glad that the child still carried that stubbornness... It seemed like they had been there forever, with the adults carefully watching over them, and medics dropping in every now and then to check. The three kids remained at the boy's side, talking to him... in hopes that he would soon wake up and... do something to cheer them all up. After what felt like an eternity, Boruto noticed a movement out of the corner of his eyes. "Mitsuki...?" he whispered unbelievably, as the blue-haired boy's fingers twitched once again. Sarada raised her head and looked at Mitsuki in amazement as his eyelashes fluttered slowly, his eyes opening a crack. Both of the kids gasped then, and a tearful smile made its way on the girl's face. "Mitsuki..." she whispered happily. It took a while for the blue haired boy to understand his surroundings. Where was he...? What had happened? Why did his body feel so... weak and numb...? But slowly the images of what had happened flashed in his head... the attack, the rogue ninjas... his father's arms... Mitsuki closed his eyes back for a moment before opening them again. "Bo... ruto...?" he whispered. "Sar... Sarada...?" He still couldn't make out the figures in front of him, but the blonde and black hairs seemed unmistakable… and another one… was that Shikadai…? His throat suddenly feeling parched, Mitsuki tried to gulp, but everything seemed to hurt now... Boruto was so relieved that he actually laughed - it was a broken laugh if anything, but a laugh nonetheless. "That's right, we're right here," he said, hastily wiping at his eyes to prevent the few tears from falling. "You are where you truly belong," Sarada mused in a broken voice, giving a gentle squeeze to Mitsuki's hand. Mitsuki couldn't help but return the smile with an equally broken, weak one. “Just take it easy, you’re going to be alright…” It wasn’t usual to see the always well-composed Shikadai like this, but now he looked quite shaken indeed. Mitsuki moved his golden eyes slowly to where Boruto was but looked past him, to the people outside of the room staring at him. "He is awake," he heard one of them say, though he couldn't make out who. Konohamaru had moved closer to the glass panel, a huge weight lifted from his heart as he saw his youngest student's eyes turning towards them, and couldn't help but smile himself as the general mood around him lightened with the child's awakening. "Well done kiddo... I knew you would make it..." he whispered. The boy felt his eyes burn slightly. He felt content... everyone in here was safe and sound. He had done it right... He tried to say something but no words came out. He felt his heart tug. Something... didn't feel right about this. He felt his body growing numb and cold with each passing second, so much that he had begun shaking a little. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest, he could feel each pound... but they were getting slower... 'Was this how it was supposed to be...?' he wondered. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, this time slower. Somehow... he felt this was just right, and that he... was actually ready. He gently pulled his hand out of Boruto's, reaching for something that was covering his mouth and nose. He didn't know how much strength he had left... He needed his friends to hear him... Boruto panicked a bit when he saw his friend reach for the oxygen mask. He couldn't take it off yet! He still needed it! The blond was quick to put his hand over Mitsuki's again. "Hey, easy there man. You can't take it off yet..." Sarada felt something was off, the look in Mitsuki's pale golden eyes was strange... Something wasn't right, they were so... empty, nothing like the gaze she was used to from him. Mitsuki felt a tremor shaking his body as his heart tried to do its job against all odds, even if for a few prolonged seconds. He slowly tried to raise his other hand but pain shot through it immediately. Seeing that he crumpled his face because of it, Sarada held on to his hand more tightly. With the last bit of his strength, Mitsuki gave his friends' hands a weak squeeze. "Thank you..." he whispered, and his eyes moved to Shikadai as he heard something in that steady noise change. "...for being my friends..." "What... nonsense are you talking about?" said Boruto, a worried frown crossing his features. "Why are you thanking us?" Shikadai felt his heart starting to race as his eyes widened, something was definitely wrong about this! He had been to hospitals before, he was sure he never heard the machines going haywire like this! “I-I’m going to call the medics!” he stammered to no one in particular, his friends’ attention wasn't on him. "Mi... Mitsuki..." Sarada whispered, a mix of emotions replacing her relieved one slowly as she got up from where she sat, watching the boy's chest moving slower - this was definitely not right! Her head whipped to the heart monitor as the pace picked up. Boruto didn't really know what these all meant, but their reaction gave him chills. "Mitsuki!" he shouted, holding on to his friend's hand, but the blue haired boy had lost his grip. "No, no... stay with us!!" This was more like a scream, and the blond felt himself losing his grip. "Fight it, stay with us!!!" "Boruto..." Even through all the sounds of the machines and the ringing in his ear as a reminiscent of his yelling, Boruto heard his friend's voice, and his own heart skipped a beat. "I'm sorry..." Mitsuki's hand slipped from his grasp and fell onto the mattress, just as the blond watched in horror his chest stopped moving altogether. An ear-piercing cry filled the room, breaking harshly into the deafening silence. … Shikadai froze, face-to-face with the adults as he heard the sound, their expressions a reflection of what he was suddenly feeling inside - a large, terrifying hollow, as if his stomach had dropped a couple of feet, leaving his body behind. Without even realizing what he was doing, the boy turned behind, his horrified gaze landing upon two of his best friends… trying to reach Mitsuki… He… was supposed to do something, he went out of this room for a reason, he was sure of it… but suddenly… he couldn’t remember what that was at all… ... Naruto had realized something was wrong the moment he had seen the kids start to panic, so he was ready to go get Sakura and Tsunade when Shikadai opened the door and came face-to-face with them. What he wasn’t at all prepared for was, though… His blood froze in his veins as his head quickly turned towards the boy in his bed, watching both his son and Sarada screaming for their friend. 'No, no, no...! You have to fight it!' This and many other frantic thoughts raced through the Hokage's mind as he stared in disbelief at what was happening... "Naruto!" Kakashi’s sharp voice woke him from his shock as he remembered what he had to do. He ran as fast as he could towards Sakura's office. He didn't even knock, he just abruptly pushed the door open. "Sakura-chan, Granny Tsunade! You have to come now!" Just the way he entered the room and the pure horror on Naruto's face left no need for further explanation as Sakura and Tsunade both practically ran out of the room, a few of the nurses also on their heels. Tsunade reached for her com to announce code blue and the room number, and Sakura, hearing the shrill cry of the heart machine, upped her pace. ... The little, blue-haired child was completely alone in the darkness... Well, that wasn't really accurate. There were people around. People he... remembered somehow. All with their backs to him. And he was scared... For some reason, he was scared beyond belief. He opened his mouth to call for them, tried to reach forward... But it seemed like they were too far away... 'You are no longer wanted here...' a voice came, and following that, one of the people surrounding him started walking away. There were many words, many hurtful phrases ringing around the darkness, and one by one people left, as the child only watched in fear and helplessness... Getting smaller and smaller with each step taken away from him... 'Why won't anyone come to your help...?' A tall brunette with a blue scarf walked away, and tears now started to fall from the child's eyes. 'Outsider!' rang a chorus of voices, as a blond and black haired duo walked away laughing, hand in hand, not taking a glance back. Broken, Mitsuki tried to run after them... but fell. He turned to the last person... A tall, black haired man. 'Dad...?' came a very feeble, childish voice. 'Why don't you hurry up and die already...?' with that, the man was gone, too. Now but a toddler, Mitsuki pulled his knees to him, hugging them with his small arms, and cried, cried... After what felt like an eternity, a shadow fell over him. The toddler raised his head, wondering, hoping if anyone had come back for him... His eyes widened in fear as he saw a gruff man with spiky blond hair looming over, looking down at him with a merciless leer. Without a heed to the child's crying and whimpering, the man grabbed a fistful of Mitsuki's hair and raised him in the air, laughing loud and cold... ... The girl, Sasuke's daughter, got up on the bed, trying to revive his boy, the Sannin could see how endless tears rolled down her cheeks one by one, unstoppable, as her whole frame shook. The boy had completely frozen... 'Mommy...?' a young voice inside his head asked, an almost hysteric tone to it, and for the briefest of seconds the room disappeared as the man saw two familiar bodies in front of him... A black haired man and a brown haired woman... Lying side by side, apparently dead... Then a small figure with long, black hair approached them. 'Daddy...?' ... Boruto had completely frozen in time the moment his friend's hand slipped out of his own and fell with a silent thud against the mattress. Blue eyes widened in horror, mouth hung open, he even found it difficult to breathe. Sarada was in shock too, but she was quick to snap out of it. She had to do something! Anything! Practically climbing on the bed, the Uchiha put both her hands, one on the top of the other, against Mitsuki's chest and pumped it. "No, no, no, you're not gonna die on us, you idiot!" Tears were starting to fall from her ebony eyes but the girl just kept on pushing the chest. But Mitsuki's eyes remained closed and the machine kept its chilled sound around the room... it wasn't working! "Mitsuki, come on!" Sarada cried out, and even more tears rolled down her cheeks. She wasn’t going to give up on her friend, she couldn't! "Get your heart beating!" She tried to hold back her sobs, but it was no use. "Please don't leave us!..." Her frame shook with the harsh sobs that were almost tearing her lungs apart, but she kept on pumping. "Please..." she begged, trying to tune out that awful sound. ...At that moment, her mother and Tsunade came in running. "Get them out of here!" yelled Tsunade as she reached the bed and pushed Boruto out of the way as gently as she could. Sakura took her daughter in her arms and quickly set her back on the floor. The pink haired woman then moved swiftly to the dying boy and returned to do what her daughter had been doing all along. "Start keeping track of the time!" Boruto only came to his senses as he felt strong arms grabbing him. "No! NO!" he screamed, his eyes still on his friend. "LET ME GO, I NEED TO BE WITH HIM!!" he continued screaming, and actually tried to kick whoever was holding him as he was being taken out of the room. "MITSUKI!!!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, and started sobbing harshly. Then that someone scooped him up and he suddenly found himself snuggled into his father's chest. "Don't look..." Naruto whispered, his voice strained and grave. Boruto held onto his father's clothes as he started crying his heart out. He never realized Naruto was taking him out until he felt a cool wind ruffling his hair. Sarada tried to return to her friend's side but as soon as she did, a strong arm grabbed and scooped her up as well. She only realized she was being taken when she saw Mitsuki and her mother getting further and further away... But she didn't have any strength left... not even to scream the way Boruto had... … “Move away, boy,” Shikadai heard Lady Fifth’s urgent voice and felt her hands firmly moving him aside. Maybe he shouldn’t… but he just couldn’t help it as he immediately drifted back to the window of the room, watching the chaos inside, his friends getting forcefully taken away… He couldn’t move… All his muscles were locked in place as he looked on, shell-shocked… He had forgotten that they weren’t at all alone, at least not until he felt a familiar touch, a motherly but firm one… “Please don’t take me out too,” he whispered, his tone so listless that he wasn’t sure Ino heard him. Gently, Ino turned him away from the window and held him tightly to herself. “Don’t watch then…” “This… this can’t possibly be happening…” the boy kept murmuring numbly, not even realizing he was shaking like a leaf. “We… we are still children… there has to be some sort of rule setting kids apart from these situations, right…?” Ino didn’t say anything more, just held him closer. They would have to bring him back… right…? ... Not... all was lost, no he wouldn't believe that. Truthfully, he should have taken this in his own hands from the beginning instead of trusting Konoha. There was still Juugo... And even if that plan fails, he could always deliver his son's soul to another, healthy body, maybe even one of those children's bodies if it came to that point... 'I just want my parents back...!' the voice, his seven-year-old voice screamed in his head, tears in his voice... He was... crying...? 'Why did it have to be them?! Why do I have to be alone?! That's not fair!' ... "How many seconds?" Sakura asked, sweat dropping by the side of her cheek. "Fifteen," a nurse answered, quickly looking at her watch. 'Good Lord,’ Sakura thought, forcing her mind to stay clear. "Move your hands." she heard Tsunade call, and she used the time to focus her chakra in her hands. She watched as her mentor injected a small portion of adrenaline directly to the boy's heart. "Hekirekite no Jutsu!" She brought her hands back down on Mitsuki's chest, and the boy's body lifted slightly from the bed. ... The boy was crying, the pain was too much to bear... Why... why did he have to suffer so...? Shouldn't it be quicker if he just let go, and never looked back...? Suddenly, the man's cruel laughter stopped, and his hand released the toddler's hair. Before he could fall, though, he was caught, held gently and lovingly in a pair of warm arms. He dared to raise his head and look... The angel's light was pushing away all the darkness, all the hateful voices, trying to heal his heart... The pink haired angel smiled fondly at him, her arms tightening around him a little more, her expression so merciful and loving... 'It's okay, baby, it's going to be alright...' she mused, almost cooing. 'Don't be afraid... I'm here...' ... Sakura mentally cursed as the machine's sound didn't change. Seeing no changes with the first charge, Tsunade repeated the same move... She had to be careful, the boy’s heart was already so weak due to the burns... but they had to bring him back. "Come on..." Sakura whispered, not taking her eyes from the boy's face, counting as she continued with the compressions. "You can do it, Mitsuki, come on..." she let her chakra flow to his body once again, but the results were the same... ... Don’t be afraid...? How was he supposed to do that...? The little toddler could feel nothing but fear, even with the angel here... None of those people who he cared about was here... They... didn't... care about him... 'Why do you fight...?' a sinister voice rang in his ears, blocking the angel's. Squeezing his eyes shut, the toddler pushed away from her. He scrambled to his feet quickly and started running, deeper and deeper into the darkness... Then he stumbled onto something and fell forward, landing hard on the ground. Cruel laughter echoed all around the black void, and the toddler curled in on himself, sobbing. 'Outsider! Outsider! Outsider!' the chants echoed repeatedly while the boy kept crying, wishing this to all end... ... The minutes passed, excruciatingly slow but also painfully quick... and nothing. "...Sh... Shall I announce the time...?" The nurse couldn't finish the sentence, a sad look visible in her eyes. Sakura was distinctly aware that there was some sort of chaos going on inside or outside of the room, but her mind had automatically tuned out any sound other than the machine. "Wait... wait just a second..." she mumbled in response to the nurse. She still had her hands on the kid's chest, she couldn't give up... She had to act careful, but she knew just the tiniest amount of shock that might do the difference, and she would never forgive herself if she didn't give it all her best. "Sakura-san... It might be too much already..." The nurse warned her. "Let's just leave the child in peace..." another nurse said, her voice shaky. Tsunade snapped back to herself and hastily hushed the nurse, staring at Sakura. Sakura remained in silence as she kept looking at the heart machine, her chakra still flowing through Mitsuki's chest... 'Please… please come back...' Sakura thought... ... The toddler wasn't sure how long he stayed there, curled up in the fetus position, crying, hurting... He felt a warm presence approaching... felt someone putting their arms around him yet again, but he lacked the energy, the will to look up... He didn't know anymore... ... Outside, a leaf from a nearby tree fell from its place as the clouds dropped their first tears and wetted the ground, little by little...        

[lackofhonor]

Narcos Episode 01.09 – “No, I have not been duck hunting, you... fucking hillbilly.” – Javier Peña

So this is supposed to be fun?” Javi asked sarcastically. 

Murphy lowered the binoculars and looked over his shoulder at his partner. Javier Peña was hunched over on the bench seat in the boat with a cigarette clenched between his grit teeth. The orange coal of the lit cigarette casting a tiny glow in the grey gloom of the morning. They had been on the water for maybe two hours and while Steve found the air refreshing, it was clear that his friend was finding this morning’s hunt less than invigorating.

Two weeks ago Steve had convinced Javier to come up from Texas for a visit. He had spoken with Javi via phone many times after what had happened with Escobar. Truly, Javi deserved to be there for when the fucker fell, but it just hadn’t worked out that way. Instead, Javier had been sitting in Texas waiting on a disciplinary review for his actions. Still was waiting on that review, in fact. Steve had tried to stay in touch, even as he and Connie tried to gather together their lives in Colombia and move them back to the States. It had been a monumental challenge for him personally and professionally but the strain was worth it to be standing over Escobar in the end. And it had ended for him with taking that last photo of the bastard dead on the roof. It had ended for him when he and Connie stepped on that plane flying out of Colombia. Hadn’t it?

Yeah.

But had it for Javi? Well that was the question, wasn’t it?

-

Steve couldn’t help but feel his friend still had loose ends from Colombia in his head that needed tying. Y’know, beyond the fact Peña’s career was on the line with this review board shit. No, Javi still wanted some blood. Via their phone calls, Steve had gathered that all Javi had done since hitting stateside was drink liquor and fuck women. And while that was pretty much Javi’s M.O. throughout the entire time Steve had known him, normally Javi didn’t seem so depressed while going about his chosen extra-curriculars. Sometimes he fucked or drank away the stress or was sullen and frustrated. Sure, that was fine. But this was something darker and sadder than a typical bender.

So during their most recent weekly phone call, Steve did what anybody would do for a friend: told him the truth (“You need a hobby that isn’t fucking women or drinking yourself to death, Javi.”) and invited him on a trip (“Come on out and see Connie and I. Relax for a bit. Take your mind off this review board shit for a while so you can get your head on straight.) Javier Peña, being a reasonable man who recognizes that perhaps he may not exactly be dealing with things well, gave in with some reluctance (“…yeah. Yeah I guess I could come out and see you guys for a weekend. Not like I have much to do here until the hearing anyway… “) So of course Steve Murphy felt the need to try broadening his friend and former partner’s horizons by introducing a potential new hobby (“Great! We can celebrate for real with you here. There’s this band Connie’s been dying to see so we can hit that up. Plus the season just opened Sunday and I’ve not been since before I was posted in Miami. We’ll be able to go duck hunting while you’re down here.”).

-

This chain of events lead to the current moment with both men sitting in a olive drab john boat that had seen better days and Steve’s cousin’s dog sitting in the floor next to their feet. They were floating on the choppy waves of a muddy river looking out over nearly one hundred duck decoys bobbing in the freezing water. It was a cold day. The sky couldn’t seem to decide whether it wanted to spit light rain or tiny frozen drops at them and the wind cut at their faces. The boat was tied to posts sunk into the riverbed that were part of a blind covered in camouflaged netting and live willow branches. Sort of a little faux tunnel the boat could hide in. Murphy had stealthily steered their vessel inside that morning after a truly harrowing ride across the water just before dawn. Murphy was calm. Soaking in the sounds, smells and sights around him. He maneuvered the boat with ease and stroked the Benelli shotgun with a fondness that spoke of years of similar experiences when he had loaded it earlier. Javier on the other hand was not as charmed. His shoulders were bunched up to his ears trying to maintain valuable heat in his neck and head and he hunched over the borrowed Remington 870 in his lap as he stared blankly at the horizon.

“Stop your whining. Isn’t this nice? You get out in nature. Enjoy some fresh air.” Steve shared in his low friendly baritone. He took a moment to drink some hot coffee from the dented green metal thermos by his feet and observed the sky contentedly.

Javi grunted and continued to puff at his cigarette as he curled further inward. He felt miserable. He was still a bit hungover from the night before to tell the truth. The wind had changed direction again and the bitch was cold as hell right in his face. He didn’t come here to be tortured by Murphy’s idea of what a healthy past time should be.

“I’m freezing my ass off in a rinky dink boat decorated in switchgrass at the ass crack of dawn so you can get this bullshit out of your system. I did not need to come along for this hillbilly holiday,” Javier complained loudly. Murphy merely hushed him with a look and continued to sip his coffee and pet the black Labrador laying in the floor of the boat.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. You got to eat a nice hot breakfast at least. Homemade biscuits and eggs fresh from the chicken’s butt. And Ace here likes you,” Steve said. Javi grumbled under his breath but did give the dog a fond scratch behind the ears.

From the slate colored sky above came a chorus of quacking, signaling the incoming flock of about thirty mallards from the south. Outlined against the ominous grey clouds above the river Javier could make out the green heads and lighter colored feathers of the birds. Steve fumbled for his duck call and gave some rapid fire noise that he had tried to explain to Javier the day before was a “hail call”. It was meant to draw the ducks in closer.

“Take your time. Let them get in close enough. Remember what I told you: swing through. Butt, belly, beak then bang!” Steve tells Javi sotte voce. They both ready their weapons as the birds approach.

“Alright, take ‘em!” Murphy hisses when the birds are in range. Javi leans into the gun and squeezes the trigger through the arc as he follows their quarry. The sky explodes with sound and two birds drop from the sky into the watter below. “Good job man!” Murphy cheers and high-fives Javi.

Maybe this hillbilly crap isn’t so bad, Javi thinks to himself as Murphy gives the dog a gruff command that has it launching itself form the boat into the water. It is kind of nice to hear the lapping of the water on the boat’s hull, the gentle flutter and soothing noises of the birds. The river in late fall is beautiful in its own way. It is stark and wild with all the green faded away now for the season, but still beautiful. Javi observes how his friend is so relaxed in this environment and cannot help but crack a smile.

“Good boy Ace! Come on, come on!” Murphy calls as the black dog paddles back to the boat. The dog is determinedly swimming back to them with head above water with the downed bird. Murphy is moving around inside the blind now. He seems to be poking around searching for something when he starts to curse.

“What’s the matter?” Javi asks as he removes the hood on his sweatshirt from over the camo baseball cap Steve had loaned him. It’s still cold, but maybe the adrenaline of the moment earlier has warmed him some.

“Fuck, I forgot the ramp this morning. It’s this thing I stick on the back of the boat so Ace can get back in the boat on his own. I coulda sworn I stuck it in here this morning.” Steve is rummaging behind the extra life jackets and decoys.

Javi shrugged and looked out to see the dog treading water over the side. Javi could barely keep his eyes open when Steve woke him up at 4 a.m., shoved his feet into a pair of chest waders and tossed him a dark green hoodie with the words ‘Ducks Unlimited’ on the chest and an old camo coat. Although he did wake up pretty quickly once they got the boat on the rive and he had the icy spray from the speeding boat and wind in his face.

“What’s the big deal?”

“He can’t get in the boat dumbass. He can’t swim like that forever. He’ll get tired,” Murphy stated, “I’ll just take the boat off the pylons and we’ll beach on the shore real quick. He’ll follow and he can climb up the rocks onto the boat.” Murphy began the process of untying the boat from the mooring posts and unlashing parts of the boat hide that made up the floating duck blind. Javi looked over the side again at the plucky little retriever. Big, bright, rusty brown eyes in a handsome black face stared back while the animal continued to paddle away, duck still firmly clamped between its jaws. He could see the nostrils of the animal widen as it huffed air in, still treading water. It wasn’t that big of a dog. 80lbs maybe? He could just scoop it out of the water. Easy.

Javi stood up. “You don’t have to do that.”

Murphy wasn’t paying attention at first. Too focused on untying his complicated knot from when he tied up earlier. He felt the boat sway as his friend moved. But out of the corner of his eye did he see Javi lean over the side of the boat for the dog. His eyes widened. “Javi, no-.”

“Come on big boy, I gotcha.” Javi called to the dog as he leaned for over into the water to scoop up the animal. He had it about balanced right. The dog was barely out of reach. If he could lean just a little further now.

“Come on Ace. Oh shi-!” Murphy watched as his partner tipped headfirst over the side.

Two seconds later the spluttering dark headed man surfaced right next to the boat cursing a storm. Ace, the mallard still clutched in his mouth, whined continuously and paddled around Javi in the truly frigid water. Steve reached out a hand to his friend in the water, bracing himself off the motor in the back of the boat. “Swim over here. I can get you back on without capsizing off the stern,” he instructed.

Javi carefully kicked and stroked his powerful arms to the back of the boat and grabbed Steve’s hand.

“Alright, on three I am gonna haul you up but you gotta push yourself onto the boat at the same time.”

Javi nodded.

“Alright, ready…three!” Steve groaned and heaved the sopping man out of the water so that his top half was wedged onto the boat. Javier used his elbows and shoulders to drag himself fully inside and flopped into the hull with a grunt.

Steve laughed and shook his head as he watched his friend cough and shiver. He was ok. He’d be a little cold but Steve would set him right in a minute. At least now he didn't look so moody, like he had been sucking on a lemon, like he had looked all morning. No, now Javi looked like a drowned rat. Although Steve wasn’t going to tell him that. Yet.

Javi straightened himself up, sitting on his knees and glaring at his friend. But before he could open his mouth the persistent whining of the dog interrupted. Steve peered over the edge of the stern of the boat. Ace doggedly paddled with the bird still in his maw.

“Alright buddy, hang on. You think we can pull him over together or you need a bit?” Steve asked Javi as the man tried to wring out part of the ancient camouflage coat that he had loaned him that morning. Javi rolled his eyes and positioned himself in the stern, carefully bracing himself on the side as Murphy was also doing. Together they carefully reached down into the water and hauled out the black lab and rolled him into the boat, dropping a good amount of water back into the boat.

The dog leapt to its feet and presented his prize to his master. A job well done surely. Murphy ruffled Ace’s ears after plucking the bird from the dog’s mouth and handed it to Javier.

“Your first duck hunt and your first duck. What do you think Javi?” The blonde man grinned at him so widely Javi couldn’t help but return the smile as he took the duck from his friend.

“Y’know, all things considered-“

Javi was interrupted by a truly massive full body shake from Ace, spraying he and Murphy with even more freezing water. Soaked to the bone, water dripping off the bill of his cap and desperately in need of a smoke he looked down at the black dog, its tail thumping furiously on the floor of the boat. He thought about the way that early morning fog had looked on the water and the duck he would eat later with Murphy’s hick relatives. He though about the money he spent for a license and duck stamp that would go back to preserving more habitat. He thought about the quiet and the trees and the way the biting wind felt. Javi wiped the water from his face and kneeled down to give the dog a good scratch behind his ears with one hand while he still held the duck.

It was fun.

Kinda.

The dog shook itself again. More water went flying. Javi scowled.

“Have we fed your inner redneck enough for today? Cause I have enough for a lifetime I think,” he huffed, searching the pocket of the duck coat to see if his precious cigarettes were dry enough to be lit.

Steve laughed and clapped him on the shoulder as Javi cupped the flame toa damp, mangled white paper cylinder. “Tell you what, next year I’ll come to Texas and play cowboy with you and your Dad on the ranch instead, ok?”

Javier’s eyes lit up. “Don’t get too cocky there, hillbilly. We’ll have to see how you measure up at ropin’ and drinking whiskey.”

Steve rolled his eyes and started the boat motor for home.

[glumpiglet]

Reassurance (Beetlejuice x F!Reader)

Uh.. Hi..Its a me..a humble fic writer joining the massive phenomenon that has been the obsession with our fav feral ghost boi. I’ll write a more in depth first post but basically yeah...I just wanted to contribute and uh I’ll be happy to take any tips or comment..Long time tumblr reader..First time tumblr writer.

Basically there was a prompt post by @boopeen that had angst and fluff prompts so I’m like.. maybe I’ll take one from each list and then this was born.

CW: Bit of swearing, slightly smutty, bordering on NSFW. A mention of Daddy!kink.

Thanks guys <3 I love this fandom

Angst: "no, you're wrong, and here's why."

Fluff "that means a lot, thank you.”

This was the part you were dreading. Glancing at the clock, you noticed it had been an hour since you started getting ready. Not that there was any worry though, the friend picking you up was always late. You had sat at your vanity and painted your face flawless. Fussed with your hair enough to have it the way it looked best tonight, had even put in the dangling earrings, and now just were standing still, bra and panties, hands on your hips, staring at a steadily growing pile of clothes on the bed. Options were running out..  

It wasn’t like fashion was never a strong suit. All your life you had been outwardly confident. Sure, you knew what looked good on other people, you had very fashionable friends that always turned to you for advice, but had been weary of things actually on you. 

Why did you bother buying any of this crap? You hated most of it. Only a few choice outfits would make your rotation. The rest of it was either stuff friends pressured you into buying, or things that might have fit better last year, but people weren’t lying when they said being in a relationship could cause you to gain weight. 

Especially when said boyfriend was the spoiling, gluttonous little demon boy you called lovebug. 

Speaking of the devil, your eyes caught a green blur of movement before your body was scooped up in a tight embrace. Beetlejuice had no patience. 

Even as he had strolled out of your bedroom earlier, claiming to be going to watch some t.v, ‘leave you to that girl stuff babes.’ You had seen him outside your room, peeking in, trying and failing miserably to be sneaky. It wasn’t that he wasn’t invited in or anything, but he was silly your ghost demon boyfriend. It was his attempt at giving you ‘space’. 

He knew he got especially clingy when you were going out.

If he had it his way you’d never leave the house. All his all the time. After many conversations, some louder and angrier than others, you had both come to a happy medium of trust and honesty. 

Of course life wasn’t perfect. 

Beetlejuice was impulsive, chaotic and emotional. 

You were stubborn, dramatic and forceful. 

The two of you butted heads just as much as you made up, but you knew your relationship wasn’t ‘toxic’. If anything your relationship had only been getting stronger. Your demon boyfriend was very understanding that you couldn’t live your life that way, a breather stuck with the dead all the time, as sweet as he might make it sound. 

But you did want him around, no debating that. 

“Changing your mind, babes? Can’t blame ya, you know I’m much better company,” Giggling at his scruff tickling your neck, along with his sloppy tongue. You caressed his arms as you left his embrace, wiping at his saliva and went for your closet. Distraction could not win, tempting as it was or not. 

Maybe you could wear the jeans you recently bought with that blouse you got for Christmas….Except you needed to put on your bodysuit for the blouse, it was too see through..Where was that thing?

Your backside was burning with Beetlejuice’s intense gaze as you rummaged into your closet. Wanting to be a bit cheeky, pun intended, you shimmied your hips and said saucily, “Sorry BJ. I haven’t changed my mind. Just trying to figure out what to wear,”

Seduction attempts were honestly quite easy with your boyfriend. It literally took almost nothing to get Beetlejuice going. You had even seen him get aroused by you making a sandwich.

“You licked the knife, babes.” Had been his excuse.

No complaints though, you were a woman in your prime. Humming in pleasure, you felt your hips get taken by chilled hands, caressing across the fabric of your underwear and backside, straight up massaging your ass.

“Mmm...Put on that black dress you know I love.” You crinkle your nose at his suggestion. His touch was wanted, his opinion..Maybe not so much. 

“Ugh, I wear that all the time.”

“Why are you being so picky? Trying to impress someone?” Chuckling softly, you had to commend him for trying to not sound suspicious. You knew Beetlejuice too well, turning around to see the tell-tale red tint beginning to come through his hair. You spare him a wilted look. 

On the tip of your tongue you had “yeah my other boyfriend.” But since the incident, you had been more diligent to think before you spoke with Beetlejuice. 

You had a habit of speaking before thinking, and before Beetlejuice you had no intention of ever curbing the reaction. But as with so much, he changed your view. Not because you had to walk around on eggshells with him, but you were getting to know his insecurities better, and respected that he didn’t like you making jokes like that, even if they were jokes.

There were other ways to be a brat.

Tilted your head, throwing over your shoulder, you whispered, “Don’t be silly. You know you’re the only one for me…..Daddy.”

No one, however, could say you didn’t know how to push his buttons. Beetlejuice purred like an alleycat. Luckily you hadn’t put on your lipstick yet, so you were okay to play a little.

Cupping his chin sweetly, you pulled him down to press your lips gently. Taking the lead, he was obviously giving you the reins, turning around fully to grab at his hair. Parted lips sucked and pulled against each other. 

Beetlejuice was holding back very well, good boy that he was. There was no choice but to reward him by scratching and pulling at his once again changing hair, not even having to look to know it would be bright pink this time. 

Your demonic mood ring growled and preened, more so like a beast than any sort of man.  

Not wanting to get too mussed up, regrettably you pulled back, trying not to laugh at his face following yours, lips pouted and eyes still closed, a dazed expression on his face. These were the moments you craved. Those soft, sweet moments you lulled him into with all of his chaos and craziness. That little ol’ you could bring this powerful being into your submission. 

Waiting until his eyes drifted open, all smiles you continued.

“Now please let me get dressed,” Kind enough to guide your love drunk boyfriend back to sit on your bed, you reevaluated the choices in the pile. Okay, these were the things you wore enough to consider them passable…...

“How about this one?” You considered the modest, billowy item he held, deciding to humour BJ, putting your arms through the holes of the dress he was holding. Laughing as he awkwardly stuck your head in, not knowing how to drape it on, you helped him happily.

Standing at the mirror, swaying, imagining how you’d look in this after a few hours in a smoky, hot club. 

“That looks great, babes! I don’t think I’ve seen you in this,”

Your critical eye still caught the flaws.

“I can see my rolls in this,”

“So? I love your rolls,” Beetlejuice joined you in the mirror, locking golden eyes with yours, a predator’s gaze. He grasped at your waist, across your problem areas with fervour. You scoffed and tore the dress over your head, throwing it unceremoniously back into your pile of shame. Beetlejuice, not deterred,  continued his search with glee, seemingly happy to be helping. It coincidentally was helping with your dying good mood. 

You tried not to get down on yourself. You knew you were cute. Had a generally pleasing face. People called you pretty. Being beautiful? Maybe not that far. The idea of being sexxy had never even occurred to you until you had stumbled upon Beetlejuice. You had never thought so but you knew he had no qualms with the eager way he always admired your body.   

“Ooo! Put this one on!” Pulled from your thoughts, watching as BJ pulled a colourful one from the hoard, he seemed to consider for a moment. “On second thought, no. Your tits look too good in this.”

“Beetlejuice!” You squealed as always at his candor, grabbing at the sweater he was holding. You quickly whipped it over your head turning to look in the mirror. Immediately you noticed your stomach protruding, distorting the design on the front. Even this one had become tighter, arms looking like sausages in their casing. That was it. A person could only take so much.  

“I have to face it BJ. Everything I wear, I look disgusting.” The comment tried to sound normal, but you couldn’t stop the anger in your voice. 

At the sudden silence, you looked up from yourself to your boyfriend. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. You guys had never really had a talk about your insecurities. It wasn’t something that happened on purpose, there was no need to ever discuss it before now. 

It was hard to feel insecure with the way he worshipped you nightly. 

It didn’t stop it from feeling like your truth at times, especially when the answers were in front of you. 

"No, you're wrong, and here's why." Grabbing once again at your arms, you were whirled around, trapped against the dresser.

“You are so fucking beautiful babes. It hurts sometimes to think that a gorgeous breather like you puts up with a creepy old guy like me,” Beetlejuice even went so far as to clamp his hand over your mouth, stopping the protest, surprising you.

“But I know you do because you see the me…..Inside of me,” It was hard to not melt when Beetlejuice was being so naively honest. How this demon could be so menacing one moment, and marshmallow fluff the next, it sometimes made your head spin.

“Who cares about the clothes anyways?! Babes, you could be wearing garbage bags with nothing on your feet and you’d still be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole afterlife,”

At your ghost’s praise, the realization of being ridiculous began to break through. You knew that you were happy and healthy, which mattered more than whatever dumb voices whispered.

“I know you don’t see it, it’s just...Some days I feel like I look fine and others…..I don’t.”

Beetlejuice embraced you, pressing his entire body against you. Listening to him breath in your hair, taking in his own mossy, earthy smell, you felt peace.

“Even if you don’t feel it, that’s okay. I’ll always tell you your beautiful...Uh… I mean, as long as you know…We’re...dating.” Any mention of commitment was difficult for BJ. You knew of his … ‘Family’ issues and his fears of loneliness and abandonment. If anything, it made you love him even fiercer. 

He would tell you he loved you, when he was ready. You guys had been basically living together for almost a year. It was clear how he felt, even if he couldn’t voice it. You weren’t pressuring him, you could see how hard it was for him.

Affection and sex were the things Beetlejuice didn’t struggle with, always needing to be touching you, constantly buzzing around your area, trying to steal all your attention. Was he a massive pain in the ass? Of course. But you could withstand his quirks, all for the prize of your devoted bugman. There’s nothing you would change.

Taking his grimey face, you lovingly looked up at the weirdest, and the best thing that ever happened to you, and smiled. 

“That means a lot, thank you.”

[moonmoon2102]

This... us... everything. MoonSun [Post-apocalyptic AU]

Holy Dduk! This is one of the things I don’t even know where it came from and how it sneaked into my mind. It wouldn’t leave until I typed it down. It may have come out as a little... weird but... I’m weird too so that’s alright, I guess

A quick heads-up: There will be mentions of Yong and Byulyi being... adults so if you’re uncomfortable reading that kind of stuff, I advise you to not read this one. If you don’t mind... go right ahead. It’s nothing too explicit though. Also, I apologize for possible grammar mistakes and typos.

With that said: Happy reading :)

"I haven't seen you and Yongsun sticking together recently," Wheein remarked, taking a sip of water. 

Byulyi froze at the mention of her name. She cleared her throat, picking up a piece of fruit from the plate Wheein had brought, immediately shoving the sweet treat into her mouth to avoid having to answer. 

"Are you guys... not fond of each other?" 

"She's a... nice person if that's what you wanna hear." 

"Oh, trust me, I heard how nice she is but especially how nice you were to her... you've been so nice your name echoed all over the camp a few nights ago."

 Byulyi nearly choked on the fruit, her face turned several shades of red, followed by a pleasant shudder she couldn't stop running down her spine as she thought back to that night. 

She remembered shushing Yong as soon as her moans picked up on volume, which Byulyi had to admit had just added fuel to the fire. Yongsun sounded incredibly hot and maybe she had drawn a little too much pleasure from the fact that she's been the one eliciting these sounds from the other woman. While it was easy to quiet her moans with kisses at first, the screams she couldn't stop from escaping Yongsun's throat. How could she with her head buried between her legs, Yongsun's fingers tangled in her hair, hips bucking and pressing her closer, urging her on to not stop.

 Byulyi shivered and clamped her thighs together, taking a quivering breath. 

"You're thinking about it, don't you?" 

"Why are we even having this conversation?" 

"Because I know you." 

"What is there to know about me, Wheein-ah? Yes, we had sex! It was amazing and that's it." 

The sniper shook her head and leaned closer, lowering her voice. "I said... I know you, Byulyi." 

"Yeah, I heard that. What are you trying to say?!" "I know it meant something to you, am I right?"

 "I..." Byulyi's voice trailed off as she laid eyes upon the woman that she had tried to avoid the past days. She watched her talk to Hyejin, admiring the way she ran her hand through her ashblond mane and the smile she flashed at Wheein's girlfriend as they talked about something she couldn't make out.

 A heavy yet frustrated sigh escaped Byulyi's lips. 

"Why are you avoiding her?" 

"Isn't it obvious? It probably... didn't mean as much to her as it did to me. I'm trying to... act normal around her." 

Wheein cocked an eyebrow, looking over at the woman that had turned her friend's world upside down. 

"You're doing the complete opposite. You're running from her." 

"I don't---" 

"Yes you do. Even a blind person would be able to see that," Wheein said, directing her gaze back towards the dark haired woman sitting across from her, "you fell for her, huh?" 

"Can we not... talk about my feelings right now?" 

"That's the problem, Byul. You never talk about your feelings. And I can see you have a lot, especially for Yongsun unnie."

 "You do know I hate it whenever you put your Sherlock Holmes mode on..." 

"Pfff, no one needs to be Sherlock Holmes to see there's feelings involved. You basically got this giant illuminated sign above your head that says I fell in love with Kim Yongsun." Wheein said and chuckled. 

"Good to know you find amusement in that," Byulyi growled, popping a grape into her mouth, "she obviously doesn't see said imaginary sign or she doesn't want to see it." 

"Oh my god, Byulyi unnie! You might be an excellent leader but you're a fucking mess when it comes to yourself! How should she know if you don't tell her?! What is she supposed to think if you avoid her like the plague after you two spent the night with each other?! I don't depict her as a person who just sleeps around with random people. She's obviously attracted to you!" 

"And you know that how?! Look... I was horny, Yong was horny... we slept with each other. It's as simple as that." 

"Are you even listening to me?!" 

"Yes I do but that doesn't mean she doesn't have needs too!" 

"You really don't want to accept it, huh?" 

"Accept what?!" 

"That there is a person who has an interest in you!"

Just as Byulyi was about to respond, Wheein jumped up from her seat. 

"I suddenly remembered... I promised Hyejin to... uh... join her on her patrol. You better work this mess out and... listen to your heart for once! I'll see you later!" 

"But Hyejin doesn't have---" she watched Wheein rush off, "patrol duty."

 Byulyi froze as she could feel hands on her shoulders, gently squeezing. All of a sudden she felt a lump form in her throat, her heart rate accelerated as soon as she heard Yongsun's soft voice.

"Hey." 

"H-hey..." 

Yongsun moved around to take the seat Wheein had been using before. “What were you guys talking about?" the ashblond woman curiously asked, picking up some cherries. 

"We uh... w-we talked about... a route." 

"A route? Which one?" 

Byulyi didn't reply, she couldn't help but stare. Never in her life she's seen anyone being this breathtakingly beautiful. She allowed herself to let her eyes wander, a surge of warmth rushed through her as she let her gaze linger on the already fading marks on Yongsun's neck. 

She watched the other woman's tongue dart out briefly to lick off the juice from the fruits she ate. Her heart skipped a beat once their eyes met, causing Byulyi to gulp. Yongsun's eyes were one of the things Byulyi liked about her; those wonderful, soft yet expressive brown orbs she had lost herself in one time too many. Even now they captivated the dark haired woman, especially since the sunlight falling into them made them seem a lot brighter; it reminded her of sweet, molten chocolate. 

"What are you smiling at?" 

Yongsun's voice broke Byulyi out of her trance like state. 

"H-huh?" 

"You're smiling." 

"A-am I?" 

"Yeah, you do." 

"S-sorry..." 

"Don't be. I like it when you smile," Yongsun softly said, her lips curved into a smile of her own.

 Byulyi inhaled deeply and cleared her throat, trying to remain composed. 

"So... about the route?" 

"O-oh yeah... uh... it's about..." the dark haired woman trailed off, thinking about Wheein's words, "it's about a route that I should take..." 

With that Byulyi got up from her seat, holding her hand out towards the ashblond woman who looked at her with a slight hint of confusion in her eyes. Just as discouragement was about to take over, Byulyi felt Yongsun's hand slip into hers, fingers intertwining. 

“Come on. Let’s take a ride,” Byulyi said, holding Yongsun’s hand tightly as they made their way to the camp’s garage where she had her bike parked at.

 ~

 Byulyi didn't expect that to happen. She thought they'd just ride out to the river, the place she remembered Yongsun saying it was her favorite as it was quiet and a place nature had remained untouched, evident by the lush grass, tall trees and patches of reed around them. Her original plan was to get out of the camp so they could talk in private. 

Yet here they were, both panting and drenched in sweat, their naked bodies pressed onto one another with their limbs tangled and Yongsun pressing soft kisses along Byulyi's jawline. The dark haired woman could still feel the tremors of her orgasm ripple through her system and according to the way Yong's body trembled, along with the soft whimpers she released, she experienced just the same. Both of them took a moment to come down from the high clouding their senses, allowing their heart beats to slow down to a normal pace.

 There was a comfortable silence between them while they listened to the river purl. Byulyi felt Yongsun's hand on her cheek, gently caressing it with her thumb before she slowly turned her head towards her to capture the black haired woman's lips to a soft, sensual kiss. Byulyi allowed herself to sink further into the kiss, granting access to Yongsun's begging tongue. 

A quiet moan escaped both their throats as Yong slightly tilted her head, deepening their liplock. Byulyi's body tensed as she noticed the ashblond woman's hand traveling south once again, a clear destination in mind. 

"Yong," Byulyi breathed, breaking the kiss in the process, hand shooting down to grasp the other woman's wrist, "w-wait..." 

"Still sensitive?" Yongsun huskily whispered, placing a kiss just below her ear, teeth sinking into the skin of her neck. 

"T-that too... but..." another soft moan stumbled upon the dark haired woman’s lips at the feeling of Yongsun’s tongue swiping across the mark she just had left, "w-we need to... talk..." 

"Mmm... now?" 

"Y-yeah... please... so if you could... just..."

 Yongsun pressed one more kiss onto Byulyi's neck before she moved back a bit, resting her head on her arm while she gazed into the other woman's eyes. Her free hand came up to brush a few strands out of Byulyi's flushed face, gently combing her fingers through the silky hair a few times before she let her palm rest upon the dark haired woman's cheek. It was such a simple touch, yet it made Byulyi's heart thump eagerly in her chest. 

"What is it?" 

As much as Byulyi enjoyed the feeling of Yongsun's skin against hers, it was too much of a distraction, a temptation even, making it hard to gather a clear thought. 

"I think we should... get dressed."

 It was only a little while later when the two women sat next to the river with Yongsun snuggled into Byulyi's arms as they silently watched the clear water flow. A soft smile appeared on the dark haired woman's lips as Yongsun scooted closer, arms circling around her waist while her head came to rest on her chest. Byulyi didn't think much of it. She figured Yong must be someone who needed physical contact after she had sex, snuggling with the one she had shared the experience with.

 Byulyi certainly didn't mind being this close to her. She too had always been the type to snuggle afterwards, maintaining the intimacy between both parties. She remembered that one ex-girlfriend who got up instantly after her needs were satisfied, making Byulyi feel like a toy being tossed aside once it had fulfilled its use. Needless to say, the relationship didn't last for too long.

 For a moment Byulyi allowed herself to relish the connection between them, absentmindedly running her hand up and down Yongsun's back, eliciting a soft, content sigh from her. Byulyi glanced down at the other woman, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She could feel her heartbeat quicken when Yong's lips curved into a smile, a smile she had grown so fond of.

 "You okay?" the ashblond woman asked, gently caressing Byulyi's stomach through her t-shirt. 

"H-huh?" 

"Your heart is pounding." 

"I... uh..." 

"Is there anything on your mind?" 

The black haired woman took a deep breath, deciding it was better to just be straightforward rather than beating around the bush. 

"Yong..." she began, gulping as she gathered all the courage she had, "does this... mean anything to you?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"This... us... everything."

 Byulyi would lie if she said Yongsun's silence didn't make her nervous. All of a sudden she regretted her decision to voice her thoughts, to have felt the urge for clarity. Yet at the same she didn't want to keep stumbling around in the dark regarding this particular matter. She couldn't deny it, she had fallen in love with Yongsun and needed to know if they were on the same page. Yes, the sex was mind-blowing, to a point Byulyi found the high Yongsun brought to her addictive. No one else has ever made her feel this way. But she wanted Yongsun for more than only that reason.

 The black haired woman's speeding train of thoughts came to a screeching halt as she noticed Yongsun move, wriggling out of her embrace, straightening herself to look at her. Her eyes were different, the intensity made the hairs on the back of Byulyi's neck stand up yet it caused the nervousness inside of her to amplify. The fact she couldn't read the older woman's expression made the feeling even worse. 

"Byul..." Yongsun's voice was low, "I... I'm sorry..."

 Byulyi felt a lump form in her throat as soon as the words had left the ashblond woman's mouth. She slightly lowered her head to avoid Yongsun's eyes, afraid she might be able to read the myriad of emotions running through her right in that moment. 

"Byul..." Yongsun softly said, gently cupping her face in her hands "hey... look at me." Byulyi followed the small nudge the ashblond woman gave her, her heart nearly jumped out of her chest once she realized how close their faces were to each other. Yongsun leaned in further, lips brushing against Byulyi's, capturing them in a slow kiss. 

"I'm sorry, Byulyi..." Yongsun whispered against her lips, both kept their eyes closed "I'm sorry... for not trying harder."

 "W-what?" Byulyi moved back a bit, meeting the other woman's eyes, noticing a slight blush on her cheeks. 

"I... I wanted to tell you but I didn't... I didn't know how. Whenever I tried you just... ran from me, putting me off with some kind of silly excuse. It lead me to believe you had regrets about..." Yongsun took a quivering breath, her voice became small "us sleeping with each other. I thought you avoided me on purpose because... it didn't mean anything to you."

 Byulyi was dumbfounded. All this time she had avoided to pick up this conversation, afraid she might be rejected, afraid she had fallen in love with someone who didn't feel the same and just slept with her to let off some steam. The fact Yongsun actually has had the same thing on her mind all along, made Byulyi's thoughts run wild though not for too long.

 Once again Yong's lips found hers, wrapping her arms around the younger woman's neck. Byulyi responded, hands came to rest upon the ashblond woman's hips, gently pulling her closer until Yongsun was on her lap, straddling her in the process. No space was left in between them, one kiss chased the other, both utterly lost in the moment. Almost reluctantly their lips parted as their bodies reminded them they needed oxygen. With their foreheads pressed onto one another, they panted, trying to catch their breaths

 "I love you, Moon Byulyi."

 Byulyi's heart soared, a warm sensation spread through her body and her stomach felt like as if a thousand butterflies had been released with Yongsun's whispered confession.

 "I love you too, Yong."

 The kiss that followed was deep and meaningful, a silent confirmation of their feelings for each other connecting their racing hearts. 

"Can we... stay a little longer?" Yongsun breathed against Byulyi's lips, tightening her grip on her. 

"We can stay as long as we want... it’s not like anybody is gonna tell us to leave..." 

So they stayed; whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears as they made love once more; twice and even a third time. That night they declared the spot near the river as their safe haven while they both basked in the afterglow, relishing the feeling of intimate togetherness with the stars being the only witnesses in the black and blue sky.

And this concludes "This... us... everything" In case it still left anyone wondering: The reason Byulyi never read the obvious signals Yongsun sent out to her right is her being an absolute mess! Sometimes people tend to not read too much into an action or a gesture in order to prevent themselves from getting their hopes up or even worse, get hurt. So Byulyi saw these things as friendly interactions. Yes, even after they’ve crossed the line by sleeping with each other. That’s how much of a mess Moon Byulyi is in this AU; at least when it comes to Yong

Again, to whoever read this: Thank you for taking the time to read :)

[hereidinathoreauwrites]

Chapters: 6/7 Fandom: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Joan Characters: Zoey Clarke, Joan (Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist) Additional Tags: it's the headcannon fic!, your #2 choice, two people start having sex for fun and oops they're in love, Women Loving Women, Developing Relationship, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bisexual Female Character, joan's pov, so I wouldn't have to deal with songs, Lesbian Sex, Fluff and Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Cuddling & Snuggling, Post-Coital Cuddling, From Sex to Love, Sex Toys, Bad Dirty Talk, zoey has a lot of emotions, but she doesn't want to talk about them, Joan is concerned but doesn't know how to ask

Chapter 6: I Can’t Help (Falling in Love)

“I think I’ve been…working you a little too hard lately.” That was the best she could manage in her office the following day. 

Zoey seemed surprised. “What? No…no everything’s…”

Joan held up a hand, wincing. “Zoey…I hurt you. You’re limping.” It still sickened her to see the damage she’d done. “Let’s…cool off a bit?”

Zoey looked like she wanted to protest more but she only said: “O…okay…”

“I dont mean stop!” Joan insisted, her heart rate picking up, “Just…” she sighed, hating herself. “look, what are you doing tonight?”

“N…othing…?”

Joan tried to smile. “Want to…go out and do something? No funny business: you need to heal. Just…let me make the other night up to you…as a friend?” It was all she could think of to start trying to apologize to Zoey for her recent string of bad behavior.

Zoey considered for only moment but it was long enough that Joan started to feel real fear of rejection crawling through her insides. Finally, the coder shrugged. “What did you have in mind?”

They settled on a dive bar several blocks away from work. It was just seedy enough that no one they knew was likely to be there but upscale enough that Joan didn’t fear for their wallets.

She bought Zoey a drink and they tried to chat over the music. Zoey was friendly and easy-going, telling Joan all about the pre-baby antics going on in her brother and sister-in-law’s life with an unforced smile. But Joan still saw the occasional wince as Zoey shifted in her seat. She took note of every time Zoey’s hand drifted to her lower stomach.

Joan felt unworthy. She didn’t deserve to be here. She kept her hands to herself, lest they wander the younger woman’s form again and reawaken the urges to harm her. If nothing else, she was determined to salvage their friendship from this disaster. And so she wasn’t allowed to touch Zoey, not after everything she’d put her through and certainly not if their friendship was going to survive this.

But Zoey couldn’t seem to stop touching her. Small taps on her knee, brushing her hand where it rested on the bar, leaning forward to speak into Joan’s ear. Every touch set Joan on edge and she couldn’t tell if she liked it or hated it.

After awhile, she excused herself to use the bathroom.

Joan leaned against the sink and stared at her reflection. The alcohol was making her sad and magnifying the guilt still twisting up her insides. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just tell her I’m sorry?

The words felt hollow by now. Was the fact that Zoey was here and treating her so casually enough? Had the coder already forgiven her…?

Joan shook her head. No. No way. Even Zoey, the woman who’d forgiven her own best friend for selling out to the 6th floor couldn’t possibly forgive her that quickly. Not after all that.

She left the bathroom and turned her eyes back to the bar. She frowned as her gaze immediately fell upon the epitome of a douche giving the poor girl in front of him a smarmy-drunken smile.

Her blood boiled as she recognized the woman. 

He was looking at her Zoey. And Joan didn’t like it. 

Without thinking, she stalked over and slid between them, eyes laser-focused on Zoey’s. Her arm wrapped towards Zoey’s on the bar, her hips angled towards hers but didn’t quite touch her. Joan didn’t care what the guy thought; her body language couldn’t have been clearer to either of them: back off, she’s mine.

She trembled at the strength of her feelings, at the impulsive desire to just claim Zoey and protect her. Zoey may not ever let her be intimate with her again. But Joan wasn’t going to let anyone else hurt her. 

The douche had no sooner left than Zoey just fucking grabbed her. Hands slid under her shirt, tugging Joan’s hips against Zoey’s. A tongue probed at her lips until they opened. 

Joan stumbled, shaken. “Zoey…”

“I don’t care…” Zoey mumbled, lips still mashed against Joan’s. “I want you. Now.”

The demand mixed dangerously with the alcohol, completely shutting Joan’s critical thinking processes and lingering guilt down. She gave in completely to the coder. It had been so long since she’d just let Zoey tell her what to do. It was intoxicating.

They ducked and wove through the other patrons and stumbled back into the empty bathroom, barely able to keep their hands off each other. 

Joan was hesitant to undress Zoey but even this drunken pawing at her through their clothes had her heart returning to those days on her couch, watching movies together. 

Zoey had no such hesitation. She tore open the top of Joan’s shirt and popped one of her breasts free from its cup. Her tongue found Joan’s hard nipple instantly. 

Joan fell back against the stall door, breath catching. “Zoey…” The aforementioned only slid her hands around Joan’s back, mouth drawing her in deeper. Joan’s hands went to the coder’s head, fingers tangling gently in her fiery hair.

It felt so good to just be them again: not forcing anything just doing what felt right.

Zoey pushed Joan back into a stall and slammed the door shut behind them. Her fingers went to her boss’ waist immediately, sliding down Joan’s thighs to lift the edge of her skirt.

“Zoey…!” Joan bit her lip as the coder confidently pushed her underwear aside to give her fingers access.

“Shhh!” Zoey chastised her, even though the bathroom was empty and the music pounding loudly outside. She slid two fingers inside of Joan and did that thing, that gentle scissoring motion that always threw Joan right to the edge.

“Nnngghhh!” She clamped her free hand over her mouth but she was already so close. “Zoey…” 

Zoey just nipped at her neck.

Three seconds later, a strangled cry ripped from her and her back thumped loudly against the stall door as she came hard and fast around Zoey’s dexterous fingers. 

Zoey started to laugh, fingers still buried in Joan up to her knuckles. 

“What?” Joan couldn’t help the punchy-drunky smile that her face adopted at the sound. She felt so loose and calm, all of the tension in her body evaporating from the orgasm. She stroked Zoey’s head. “What’s so funny?”

Zoey couldn’t seem to stop giggling. “I’m…I’m fucking you…in a bar bathroom…” she buried her face in Joan’s shoulder, biting back her mirth and shaking.

Joan stroked her head again. “Zoey?”

The coder looked up at her, an expression on her face that Joan recognized. Her heart jumped as she realized she hadn’t seen that expression in the longest time. And she’d missed it.

“Come home with me?” Zoey asked.

She was weak. She couldn’t say no.

The trip back to Zoey’s was a blur of drunk stumbling, yelling at taxi drivers, and Joan desperately trying to keep her torn shirt and wet panties hidden under her jacket. 

They stumbled into Zoey’s apartment, giggling and knocking into things in the dark until Joan finally found the light. 

Murmurs became whispers and the whispering quickly led to more kissing. Zoey hooked one leg over Joan’s hip, her free hand pulling Joan’s down to her breast.

Even through her drunk haze, Joan recognized the signal. “Zoey…no…” She pulled back. Joan frowned down at her, one hand rubbing the coder’s stomach gently. “You’re still healing.”

Zoey pouted but didn’t argue. “Then I guess you get another turn.” 

Her eyes darkened. “If you insist…”

Zoey jumped up to straddle Joan’s hips and Joan carried her to the bedroom. It was so easy.

Zoey’s bed was unmade but it hardly mattered. Joan sat down, bringing the coder with her so that Zoey was straddling her. Through desperate kisses, they freed each other from clothing, moving only to slide their underwear from each other’s hips.

Joan was drinking in the sensation: Zoey, naked and pressed close to her once more. The warmth was as delicious and soothing as her final glass of bourbon had been. 

“Joan…” Zoey broke in in between kisses. “if you’re up for it…let’s try something?”

Joan moved her lips down to Zoey’s neck, teasing Zoey’s spot. “Like what?”

Zoey shuddered but gripped Joan tightly. “I got a new toy…”

Her breathy response had Joan pausing and pulling back. Zoey climbed off of her and opened her top dresser drawer. She held out a small dildo for Joan to see.

“You got me so good with yours…” she gave Joan a timid smirk that was clearly meant to be seductive. “want to see what I can do to you?”

Joan recoiled at the memory, the guilt crashing back in. She turned away and hugged herself, once again struggling to find the words to apologize. 

But a gentle hand on her shoulder stopped her from falling back down her guilt hole. “Joan…it’s okay. Really.” Zoey gave her a soft, genuine smile. “I’m not mad.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

It seemed Saint Zoey really was capable of instant forgiveness, even on Joan’s part. That or this was all some diabolical revenge plot. 

So, Joan figured, why the hell not? Let Zoey hurt her if she needed that. Joan deserved it. 

She watched Zoey get ready, part of her apprehensive the other just a little excited. 

When everything was in place, the coder smiled and pushed Joan down onto the bed. She gasped, already feeling thick desire for a dominant Zoey pooling in her stomach.

Zoey crawled over her, completely ignoring the strap-on. Instead, she focused entirely on Joan’s breasts. Each one received a thorough once-over by Zoey’s fingers and lips until Joan was squirming in anticipation. 

But even then, Zoey didn’t enter her. Her hands traveled the length of Joan’s body, tickling the sensitive spot on her left side and pinching the edge of her butt. She gently parted Joan’s legs and ran her fingers through Joan’s slick folds.

By this point, Joan was on the verge of begging. But before she could find her voice, the tip of the toy was pushing slowly past her entrance. 

She tensed but relaxed almost instantly, shocked. It didn’t hurt. Zoey’s thrusts were gentle, timid almost. She wasn’t trying to hurt her. 

Zoey glanced at her, checking in on her with an unguarded smile that had Joan melting into her. Zoey ran her hands up Joan’s arms and wrapped her in a brief hug as she thrust again. Joan trembled. Everything the coder was doing was effortlessly turning her on.

“Oh god…!” Joan clutched Zoey to her, her body rocking in time with the younger woman’s thrusts. How did she just know what to do? She wrapped her ankles around the younger woman’s thighs and drew her closer. Zoey responded instantly, thrusting deeper but keeping the same rhythm. 

Joan gasped, riding the sensation as a current of something welled up from deep in her chest. 

She only fought it only for an instant before Zoey’s gentle thrusts and soft nibbles on her shoulder had her dropping her guard entirely.

She couldn’t help it…she’d been so afraid of things getting complicated but…

Joan stroked Zoey’s hair and moaned into the soft release. It wasn’t a mind-blowing orgasm. But that was okay. It was just what she needed. A gentle reminder of how good this thing they had could be when they didn’t force it.

Zoey brought her down gently, smirking playfully at Joan as she slowly withdrew the toy. The coder flicked the side of Joan’s breast. “Gotcha.”

Joan had to laugh, the action just as necessary and fulfilling as the orgasm had been. Between the alcohol, the guilt, Zoey’s words, and the intimate sex, all of her walls were well and truly shattered by this point. Zoey had easily knocked them all down.

She’d been fighting it, fighting feeling exactly this: the sensation of belonging with someone, of trusting someone completely and feeling satisfied with that. No matter what Zoey did to her, she was always going to forgive her. She wasn’t afraid to be herself around Zoey. She’d known that since the L-word. She’d just been denying herself the chance. 

Joan tugged Zoey forward, pressing their lips together. She smiled into the kiss, letting it warm her from the inside out. 

It seemed that she couldn’t help falling in love with Zoey Clarke.

The thought had no sooner crossed her mind than Zoey stilled. The coder pulled back slowly, her eyes distant and unfocused. 

Joan watched her in confusion for a moment but before she could make a move to rouse Zoey, the woman shook herself out of it. 

Now Zoey was giving her another of her wide-eyed stares, as if Joan had said her thoughts out loud. 

Joan felt her insides turn to ice. “Hey…hey.” She tried to sound soft, despite her heart beating unnaturally fast. There was no way Zoey could know what revelation she’d just had, right? But as she reached for Zoey’s arm, the younger woman flinched back.

“Zoey?”

“R…rolling Stones.” Zoey stuttered. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly modest in her nudity.

Joan sat up, hardly daring to believe it. “Zoey?” The coder couldn’t seem to look at her all of the sudden. She fumbled the toy out of its harness and threw it aside.

“Joan, I think you should go…”

“Zoey…what did I…?” Zoey had never kicked her out of bed before. Joan didn’t know what she’d done. Had it been the kiss? Or had the whole night simply been too much?

But unlike their first time, Zoey didn’t reassure her that she’d done nothing wrong. Unlike the previous night, she didn't let Joan comfort her.

Zoey stood, wrapping herself in a towel. “Just…just go?” She asked, in the softest whisper Joan had ever heard. She pointed to the door. “Please?”

How could she deny her anything when she asked like that?

“O…okay.”

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

Often Forgotten

A/N: Okay, I know we’ve been posting frequently lately, and all I can say is...don’t expect this every week? We happen to be inspired because we’re procrastinating our Big Bang project and screaming while doing it what? Ah, never mind. This story was primarily written by Mod Delta, and I (Mod Tim) was the one who wrote the ending. We hope you enjoy this, it took a lot of work last night to finish this!

Warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, Villain!Patton, Religious Metaphors, Toxic Purity

"Thomas doesn't need him! He doesn't need Deceit! He's not a part of Thomas that deserves to be here!"

The vehement tone of voice and the use of Deceit's name made him pause in his way to the kitchen to grab some tea. No matter what the other sides said, tea was far superior to coffee, and made him look more sophisticated to boot. And the others would never know this, but Deceit lived for coming off as sophisticated. However, all thoughts of tea left his head as he heard the hushed conversation.

Logan was the next to speak. "I know you don't like him, Patton, but--"

"But nothing!" Patton interjected. "He's only hurting Thomas! Not helping him!"

Deceit's hands balled into fists. How dare Patton suggest such a thing! He was the one who explained that Deceit was there to help with self-preservation in the videos! But that didn't mean that Patton approved of his methods, or his presence...he flattened himself against the wall and inched closer to hear better.

"Look, Pat, as much as I hate Deceit, he does have a purpose..." Virgil said. "We would be wrong to try and get rid of him. I hate the guy, but we do need him."

Ah, Virgil. Deceit didn't quite know what happened to cause Virgil to turn against him and the others, but Virgil wasn't going to tell. Virgil would rather die than admit that he hated being what Roman considered a "Dark Side" and that he wanted to be seen as good so desperately that he started appearing in Thomas' videos. And Deceit wasn't keen on torturing Virgil, so a secret that fact would remain.

Patton stood up and started to pace in his anger, sputtering. He turned in a circle around the light sides. "Don't you see?! He has you all believing that, but it's a lie! He doesn't need to be here! He has you all convinced, but I won't be fooled! He's not going to talk to Thomas ever again!"

Deceit forcibly relaxed his hands only when he realized they were shaking in their pent-up fury as fists. Who gave Patton the right to say that?! How did he know what was best for Thomas? Just because he represented Thomas' morality (or at least the moral high road), he thought that what he said was law. And he would not be deterred.

That was something Deceit knew he couldn't go up against. If he got into a fight against Patton, Deceit would lose and alienate what little trust he had built in the others. But he couldn't build more of a rapport if Patton was going to refuse to allow him into any of their conversations, or shared living spaces. Deceit's mind was racing as the silence in the Commons prolonged. He couldn't win in any situation his mind played out, so why even try? He spun on his heel and moved back to his room. He shut the door forcefully and locked it, before sitting on his bed and meditating. He needed to move his room to the subconscious. That way, he'd never have to deal with Patton or the others ever again. And they all won. Maybe Thomas would even be glad Deceit was gone.

As Deceit successfully moved his room into the subconscious, the other sides felt a certain shift in the atmosphere of the Mind Palace. It didn't feel strained, but it certainly wasn't more relaxed, either. There was a subtle shift that none of the others could place. It set all of them on edge, though, including Patton. But Patton resolved if Deceit was up to something, he would show his face soon enough.

Days passed. Logan thought it odd that he hadn't seen Deceit at all, and his tea bags hadn't been touched. Roman would walk past where his room used to be and scratch his head. He knew that there was a door there before, but he couldn't remember whose it was. Maybe it was Remus. The side was always moving his room around, just to mess with everyone.

Soon, though, Thomas had a moral dilemma and all the sides were summoned to the living room. Logan popped up, then Roman, then Patton. Virgil appeared and they all looked to Thomas, who was shifting uneasily. "So, you guys might have noticed that Cheryl, Aunt Patty's friend, isn't doing so well..." he said. "And Aunt Patty kind of wants me to send Cheryl some well wishes."

"But Cheryl is a homophobe, isn't she? She's the one who tried to set you up with a couple girls in college," Virgil said.

Thomas winced. "Yeah. I really don't want to deal with her again, but Aunt Patty only wants something as small as a card. Still, if Cheryl sees it, she'll take it as an invitation to try and 'help' me again."

"Ah, but it would not be optimal to explain this to Aunt Patty?" Logan said. "After all, Cheryl is her best friend, and she never suggested you date girls to Aunt Patty's face."

"Who says we have to tell Aunt Patty what her best friend did? Why can't we just send Cheryl a card and ignore her attempts to set us up again?" Patton proposed.

"Why deal with that at all when we could say that Cheryl didn't like us much and she wouldn't appreciate our card?" Roman proposed. Immediately after the words left his mouth, a piece of his cheek started to smoke and he bent over, yelping in pain.

Now, none of the sides had to deal with what happened when they proposed to lie before. Deceit would be the one influencing them to say it, and would field all the punishment that Thomas' mind gave to the proposed lie. But with Deceit disappeared into the subconscious, no one was there to take the hit for the other sides. Roman's skin burned like fire, and he clawed at his cheek desperately, before a small piece of skin fluttered to the ground, and a single scale took place on Roman's face. Everyone stared at him.

"Deceit...?" Logan asked, but his voice wasn't as sure as it usually was.

"What? No, it's me, guys, it's Roman! Why are you..." his voice trailed off as his fingers brushed against the scale. "Is that...? What I think it is?"

"Apparently so," Logan said, tweaking his glasses. "I have no idea how that developed, though."

Virgil's jaw was open wide, and he made a croaking noise. "I know...I know that...that Deceit used to...used to have scales form when he lied, years ago...but...but how would you be growing scales?"

"Perhaps it's from the suggestion that we lie?" Logan asked. "Although why this would appear on Roman and not Deceit puzzles me."

"Well, Roman was the one who suggested lying! That's probably why!" Patton exclaimed. "If you lie, or suggest you lie, you grow scales? Maybe that's what happens?"

"I mean I guess?" Roman said, scratching at the scale. "It's not coming off, and it hurts!"

"Stop scratching at it then," Logan said. "That will only make matters worse!"

Virgil was silent, and Thomas didn't fail to notice this. "You okay, Virgil?"

"I'm fine," Virgil said, before clamping a hand over his mouth, a muffled scream coming out before a scale appeared just below his lips.

The others watched with horror, realizing that they could no longer lie, even about their feelings, without scales growing all over them. Logan was trying to figure out how to navigate this, while Roman simply prayed no one would ask about his insecurities, and Patton watched impassively. Out of all their reactions, Patton's was the most alarming, because the emotive side just...did nothing. He stared with a neutral, calculating gaze, as if weighing the merits of the sides' very continued existence. As if he were deciding if they would help Thomas or not.

"Maybe...maybe I should tell Aunt Patty that I can't send a card right now because I've got a lot on my hands," Thomas said uncertainly. "That's...definitely not a lie."

"Do so," Logan advised. "And then we should figure out how to fix this."

Thomas nodded and the sides sunk out, back to the Commons. Patton still looked impassive, but internally he was glaring at the scales on his two friends. Why was this suddenly something that was happening? Where was Deceit in all of this? What was he hoping to achieve in making the others lie? Nothing good, Patton was sure, and he wanted to teach Deceit a lesson. Teach him that Thomas didn't need him, that lies were evil, that Thomas was a good person and good people didn't lie.

"Where's Deceit?" Roman asked. "I would have thought that he would be waiting here to gloat about whatever his evil scheme is."

Logan looked around and frowned. He was genuinely perturbed at the lack of Deceit. "He doesn't appear to be here. Perhaps he is in his room?"

Virgil shrugged. "We can check. Isn't his door right by yours, Patton?"

"Oh. Oh no," Roman said. "That was his room?"

"What do you mean 'was'?" Virgil asked, voice rising in panic.

"There was a door there, but it recently disappeared. I thought it was Remus messing around again," Roman said, worry coloring his voice.

"How recently did it disappear?" Logan pressed.

"I'm not sure. A couple of days?" Roman said.

"That's when the teabags stopped being used," Logan muttered. His eyes widened. "You don't think that he's trying to go dormant, do you?"

Virgil's eyes widened. "Like when I ducked out?! But...but wouldn't that mean that we couldn't lie?"

"Unless..." Roman chewed his lip. "Unless the lies we tell are replacing Deceit."

Patton's face showed brief rage before it became completely impassive and stony. "That can't be what's happening," he said with certainty. "No one here will be replacing Deceit."

Virgil worried his hands and said, "Patton, I don't think you get to decide this. Thomas' brain is going to do something if Deceit has gone dormant."

"Yeah? Well, it's not going to get a replacement! We're better off with Deceit gone!" Patton exclaimed. Smoke appeared on his forehead as skin peeled back revealing not one, but two scales.

Logan's brows furrowed. He was concerned that if Patton developed two scales when the others only developed one, that Patton was more susceptible to lies. But, he reasoned, Patton might have told two lies. That they were better off without Deceit and that the brain wouldn't get a replacement, so he kept quiet. After all, it would do no good to make everyone worry senselessly.

"I'm going to look and see if maybe Deceit just moved his room to worry us," Virgil said, quickly leaving the Commons.

"I'm going to see if these scales can come off," Roman said, retreating to his room.

Patton's face was still impassive. "Patton," Logan said softly. "Aren't you a tiny bit worried about what this means?"

"No," Patton said with certainty. "Deceit being gone is a good thing for us."

And the scariest part to Logan was that Patton believed that so whole-heartedly that not a single scale formed on his skin.

As days passed and Deceit still didn't show his face, everyone became increasingly worried. Well...almost everyone. Virgil was the most obvious about it, constantly looking around like Deceit might jump out of the shadows at any moment and lecture them on this was why they needed him, and they should be glad that he decided to return. But he never did.

Roman was next obvious. Whenever he suggested anything that resembled a lie, he would have a scale grow on his face. But being half of Thomas' imagination, there was a very fine line between fact and fiction for Roman. He would claw at the scales, try and get them to go away, but nothing worked. The scales he gained always stuck. He'd sometimes mutter that if only Deceit was here, this wouldn't be a problem.

Logan, while not outwardly worried, was quite possibly the most anxious of them all. For Deceit being gone meant the mind would try and compensate somehow. And all of them were gaining scales here and there--Virgil about his feelings, Roman about his ideas and insecurities, and Logan about his self-care habits, but Patton. Patton was gaining scales left and right.

It didn't even hurt Patton anymore when his human skin faded away to form another scale. He often was found snarling around the halls or in the Commons, his tongue bringing sharper words, and his eyes shooting menacing glares. Often, he would snap at the others that they were doing something wrong, or that he didn't want to talk to them, he didn't need help, that the others were being useless and was he the only one who could see the big picture here?!

Logan didn't dare bring it up with Patton, but he had been searching through the subconscious, trying to find where Deceit put his room. Maybe, if he could return, this would stop. Maybe Patton would lighten up, Virgil would calm down, and Roman would feel free to share his ideas again. He was never successful, but he held out hope. After all, with Patton getting harsher and harsher standards for all of them, something had to be done.

Things came to a head two months after Deceit had disappeared. Thomas was trying to figure out how to tell Terrence that he couldn't come visit, because he didn't have it in him to say goodbye to his friend again just yet, but he didn't want to say that to hurt Terrence's feelings.

Patton went ballistic. He said that lying would only lead them into danger, that Thomas would be a terrible person if he even told a half-truth, that he had to be completely honest. He could sugarcoat it, but only if that was by telling the truth. Logan had a smattering of scales across his forehead and around his left eye at that point, Virgil had quite a few around the nose and mouth, and the bottom left quarter of Roman's face was completely covered, but Patton had stopped forming new scales. It wasn't a matter of not hurting him, they just weren't showing up anymore.

Everyone in the room felt horror creep up their spine as Patton's left eye flashed golden and turned into that of a snake's, and his jawline bore the same shadows that Deceit's once had. Logan quickly sunk out of the room, dashing from the Commons to the subconscious, his only thoughts finding Deceit. Because if he didn't act fast, Patton was going to hurt Thomas, possibly permanently.

When Logan ran smack-dab into a wall, he nearly sobbed in relief when he opened the door attached to it and found Deceit. Or at least...he thought it was Deceit. His outfit was the same, with the same snake logo, but he was completely free of scales. He startled and looked over at Logan. "Logan, what--"

"No time!" Logan exclaimed. "Living room, now, Patton's hurting Thomas!"

That was all it took. The two sides sank out of the subconscious and shot up in the living room. Everyone turned to them in surprise. Even Patton stopped his tirade. Deceit stared at all of them in shock. Each of them had scales somewhere on their person, in clumps around specific areas, mostly, but he recognized the scales as his own. So that's where they had been disappearing to. He had wondered.

Deceit winced as he saw the state of Roman and Virgil. Logan had a few scales, but those two seemed to get quite a few from his left side, if he wasn't mistaken. Then he turned to Patton and gasped. Patton looked...like Deceit did, before. He was covered in scales, his left eye that of a snake, his left jaw no doubt having the ability to unhinge like Deceit's did before he had slowly gained his human features back.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is," Patton spat. "The other three have been worried about you, Deceit. They thought that you being gone was a bad thing. I disagree. You should have stayed dormant."

Deceit stood there, taking Patton in. He had scales not only covering his face, but going down his neck and all along his left arm and hand. He had no doubt the same was true for his leg. Patton had taken on what Deceit's duties had been. He became the one who lied, and it corrupted Patton completely. There was no way Deceit could save him, not if Patton didn't accept his help. And considering the way Patton was looking at him right now, Patton definitely wouldn't be accepting Deceit's help any time soon.

"Why did you come back? Huh? Did Logan bring you here? I ought to thank him for that. Really. It just proves to everyone what I've been saying all along. Deceit has no place at the table."

Deceit squared his shoulders, and stared down Patton. "No, it doesn't. But it appears that I am not the one who is lying right now, Patton."

Patton cackled, a truly evil sound that Deceit recognized from him doing it enough times when he had to instigate the others into considering his view, or get them to dismiss his ideas so he could nudge them in the right direction without them realizing he approved. "That's rich. I'm Morality, Deceit! What I say, goes!"

"You're not Morality," Deceit said with a thousand-yard stare. "Not anymore."

Patton took in a deep breath to yell, but Deceit grabbed his voice with a flick of his wrist. "That is quite enough, Purity. Your viewpoints are toxic, and damaging Thomas. No one is a perfect person, and as Morality you should have seen that the world isn't simply black and white. I helped Thomas in my own way by telling him to lie. What are you achieving when you yell and exclaim he's a terrible person, hm? You're simply hurting him! You're the embodiment of purity culture, not Morality. Not anymore. And since Purity cannot be attained, at least not in this life, it should not be what Thomas strides for. You're hurting him, Patton. You are no longer welcome here."

When Deceit let Patton speak again, he simply snarled, "You haven't seen the last of me. You'll see that I was right all along!" as he sunk out.

Deceit watched the spot where Patton stood with disdain. "No, I do believe that is the last time I allow you around Thomas," he said. "After all, I'm the other half of Morality. I control when the Dark Sides can and cannot show up."

"Deceit," Thomas breathed. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but it's so good to have you back."

Logan cleared his throat. "Actually, I believe that Deceit has become a misnomer," he said. "As he had stated, he is what remains of your morality. That means he sees the good, and the bad. His sole purpose is not to make you lie, Thomas, but to see both sides of the equation."

Deceit stared at Logan in surprise. The few scales that had been there before were fading away, and Roman and Virgil's skin was clearing as well.

"I believe Patton...Purity has stolen the last of the scales we had obtained," Logan said, feeling his skin. "Just as well. We couldn't gather scales every time we lied for the rest of our lives. And if he has accepted that he is no longer...no longer a Light Side, then he may be embracing what defines him now, including those scales."

"Purity is a toxic standard," Deceit said. "It's as slippery as a snake, and tempts you like the old story in Genesis, telling you you can be perfect, if only you can do this or that. But morality is not, and never has been, black and white."

"I'm glad you see that...Morality," Logan said.

Deceit blinked. He pointed at himself wordlessly.

"Yeah, you," Virgil said from the stairs. "You were always a form of Morality, and now we know you're fighting for us and with us, not against us. You earn the title."

"Often, we forget that the world isn't black and white," Roman said. "We often forget that living in the gray is good for us. That it means we don't have to hold ourselves to that pure, perfect standard."

"Go on, you can take Morality's spot," Thomas said, gesturing to where Patton once stood.

Deceit...Morality slowly walked across the room, taking off his hat and playing with the brim of it. "Is there something we can call you beyond Morality?" Logan asked. "It's all right if you don't wish to share..."

"No, it's okay," Morality said. "I had a name before, but I'm not so sure it fits me anymore."

"You can choose a new one, if that's what you wish," Logan said.

Roman grinned. "I, for one, would love to hear your new name."

They all waited with baited breath. Morality took a deep breath, flipped his hat in his hands and put it on his head with confidence. His shoulders were squared and his chin tilted upwards as he said, "You can call me Ethan."

"All right, Ethan," Thomas said with a grin. "It's nice to finally meet you properly. Do you think...Patton will ever recover?"

Ethan's confidence slipped. "I don't know," he said. "That sort of corruption is very hard to recover from, and near impossible if you don't accept help. Even if he accepted, the scales would return to me. I would still be Morality...Ethan, but if Patton were to return, and try to kick me out from the group again...I would push back, by any means necessary. And that might again start up the struggle that caused this to happen in the first place."

The room in the mood sobered up some. "Oh," Virgil said softly. "I'm...gonna miss him. Not who he became, but who he once was."

Logan and Roman murmured their agreement. Ethan bowed his head. "I shouldn't have tried to make myself dormant," he said. "Maybe this would never have happened."

"I think...this was doomed to happen one way or another, Ethan," Thomas said. "Purely by the way Patton acted around you. Don't think I didn't notice how he would fight with you in the Mind Palace whenever he could. Don't beat yourself up over it. You saved us. All of us. From him."

Ethan looked around, and everyone was smiling gratefully at him. Nervously, hesitantly, he started to smile back.

"All right, then," Thomas said. "Ethan, what do you think I should say to Terrence?"

Ethan considered. "Well, obviously being brutally honest would hurt his feelings, but I'm sure there's a way we can say this that wouldn't be a lie and spare us an awkward moment..."

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