#mpdcty fanfic

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

‘Choosing Sides’ Part Twenty-Six - Haiku

“Station?” Miho piped up, when Nomura led her by the hand into the favourite watering-hole of Second Unit.

“No better place to celebrate,” he declared with a sly grin.

“I disagree,” she mumbled, “and still think it’s far too early for celebration.”

“Fujiwara and Nomura?” Kyobashi blinked, and the heads of the other congregated members turned to their arrival. “Holding hands no less.”

“I’ve practically been abducted,” she muttered, shooting Kyobashi a sharp look as she wormed her fingers free of Nomura’s.

“Heard through the grapevine you managed to nab all those terrorists,” Kirisawa smiled broadly, but he also glanced from Nomura as he ordered drinks, back to Miho. “Pretty impressive for a rookie.”

“The investigation is ongoing,” Miho told him. “It doesn’t feel like it’s over yet.”

She then jolted as Tennoji clapped her solidly on the back.

“Always thought you were kind of girly,” he announced with a grin, “but I guess there’s a cop in there somewhere.”

“Have you never seen her fight?” Hannai scoffed. “She’ll floor you in five seconds Tennoji.”

“Bullshit,” Tennoji snorted, looking Miho up and down.

“I could,” she shrugged a little smugly, taking the tumbler of whiskey Nomura passed to her.

“Prove it,” Tennoji snorted.

“What? Right here?” she laughed, taking a sipped.

“Yeah,” Tennoji nodded, stripping away his leather jacket. “If you’re game.”

“I don’t think…” Miho began, but Kirisawa was already moving a table back to create some space. “Wha… Agasa, you’re okay with this?”

“You kicking the stuffing out of Yutaka in a fair fight?” the bartender smirked. “Sounds like good entertainment.”

“You’re kidding?” she gaped, only to feel Nomura gently pinch the back of her neck.

“Try not to mess him up so much he can’t work,” he instructed lightly, slipping his fingers into the collar of her jacket to tease it back.

“Heh,” she grunted, putting down her drink and allowing him to take her jacket before flexing her arms. “No promises, and you know when I beat him, he’ll be hell to be around, almost as much as if he won.”

“Hey, I’m standing right here,” Tennoji barked. “And just so you know, as a rule I don’t spar against women.”

“Too scared?” Miho jibbed, and the men laughed.

Other patrons from outside their circle drew closer, curious as to what was going on.

“No way!” Tennoji reacted, just the way she knew he would. “No complaining if you get bruises. I ain’t gonna go easy on you.”

“Nothing about my life lately has been easy,” she huffed. “Why should this be any different?”

In what was now a circle of onlookers, Miho stepped away from Tennoji and bowed.

“At least I get to blow off a little steam,” she muttered as she straightened.

Grab.

Flip.

Slam.

And Miho held Tennoji’s cheek to the floor, his right arm pulled back, her knee between his shoulder-blades.

“Aaand match,” Kirisawa called, and Miho released Tennoji and stepped away to find her drink waiting in Nomura’s hand.

“Holy fuck,” Tennoji blinked, rolling over and sitting up to stare at Miho. “You sure you’re a girl?”

“Pretty sure,” Nomura responded for her, which afforded him some appraising looks he simply ignored. “That enough steam blown for you?” he added, leaning to whisper into Miho’s ear.

And she nearly choked on her mouthful.

Lol.

Get it?

But the narrator means whiskey, not that other thing you just imagined.

“Quit teasing me or you’ll join him,” she warned, but he wasn’t to be told.

“I can think of worse things than you on top of me,” he responded flippantly, before taking a sip of his oolong.

Miho levelled her gaze at him, her brows twitching downward.

“Are we going to end up in the ladies’ room again?” she enquired, dropping her voice though the boisterousness of Tennoji’s excuses covered the exchange.

“I can think of worse ways to end an evening,” he replied, slightly more serious, just enough to make her think he was potentially being serious.

Quit teasing,” she grumbled, turning away from him to re-join the party.

You know you want to.

“Shut up,” she told herself, and took a gulp of her scotch.

For over an hour she hung with ‘the boys’, but at the back of her mind there were far too many unanswered questioned – and Nomura.

When her phone rang with a number she didn’t recognise, she took it as a life-line and shuffled to a quieter spot.

“It’s Genever,” came the curt female voice when Miho answered.

“I’d ask how you got my number but I bet your boss, or his boss, have their ways,” Miho grumbled. “What can I do for you?”

“I was just thinking, you know,” Genever replied, “that I put you in a bad spot, and maybe I’d like to apologise. Lieutenant Kirisawa talked to me yesterday, said I could back out if I wanted, just like that, so...”

Miho had to laugh.

“Why don’t you kick back and relax?” Miho suggested. “Or, have you decided to stay with the Ice Dragons?”

“I don’t know yet,” the other woman sighed. “You know, I don’t really have anyone close to talk it over with, so…”

She let her sentence trail off again, and Miho glanced at her watch.

It was late… er early.

“Now?”

“Sure, if you’re not busy,” Genever encouraged.

“Okay,” Miho sighed. “Where? Coffee I need it.”

 “Heh, didn’t think you’d actually come,” Genever greeted, when Miho entered the twenty-four hour café.

“Should I not have?” Miho queried, flopping down into the booth.

“I just mean, it’s not like I did much to win your friendship or anything what with the whole abduction and stuff,” Genever pointed out a bit sheepishly. “So, I’m sorry, especially for the Ichinomiya part cause that guy is the biggest toss.”

“No argument about the biggest toss part,” Miho snorted. “And I understand you were in a tough spot so, no hard feelings.”

They talked for a little while about Genever’s options, before Miho’s yawning became too much and they decided to call it a night. Genever slipped out of the café, but Miho lingered to stretch before getting out of the booth and standing.

“Ugh,” she grunted, finding Genever’s phone sitting on the opposite chair.

For a moment she considered the possibility of using it to set up Soryu Oh, but with a wry chuckle and a shake of her head and picked it up and slipped it into her bra.

“Not, and were never, a cop,” she told herself. “Just give it back to Kirisawa tomorrow.”

Yawning again she stepped out onto the street and began down the sidewalk, scanning the road for an unoccupied taxi.

When she was yanked suddenly into an ally with a hand pressed firmly over her mouth.

Sleepy though she may have been moments ago, her fight instinct kicked in instantly, and her attacker was flat on his back within seconds. The mouth of the ally, however, was barred by several other figures that forced her further into the dimness.

Panting, she stumbled around trash cans and dumpsters, only to find herself trapped by a second group of men.

“What’s this?” she hissed as they closed in from both directions.

She put up her guard, but there was no way she could take on that many and win.

“I suppose you thought all this was over, didn’t you, Miss Fujiwara?” a heavily American accented voice queried rhetorically, the flicker of a cigarette lightly briefly illuminating his face.

“Actually I was dubious,” she managed, though her mouth was dry. “I never had the information to sell, so this is pointless.”

“I know you didn’t,” the man nodded calmly, carefully adjusting his suit jacket like she bored him. “That ship has sailed, but that doesn’t mean our encounter now is pointless.”

His sudden grin caused every muscle in Miho’s body to tense, to clench.

“There is some measure of satisfaction to be had from revenge,” he went on, moving closer but staying out of arm’s reach, “and while I may not have Japan’s authorities at my mercy, I can send them a poignant message about what happens when they interrupt my plans. Something poetic.”

I doubt he’s going to write them a haiku…

 Over-confident

Silly girl thought she had won

Oh how she was wrong

 “Don’t do this,” she exhaled. “Just walk away and disappear, don’t…”

“It’s far too late for that,” the man told her with a slow, sad smile – sarcastic though it was. “Take her bag, destroy the phone.”

With that, Miho was set upon by arms that grabbed, that tugged, that dove into pockets to empty them out, and in dismay she watched them stomp her mobile phone into the asphalt.

“If I scream…” she began as she was dragged along the ally toward a car, and the lead man looked back over his shoulder.

“If you were to scream, we’d still cart you away,” he declared. “Only when we reached our destination I’ll have my men do all kinds of unspeakable things to you, as tired a threat against women as that is in literature.”

“Asshole,” she growled as she was led to the back of the sedan, where the trunk was opened and she was bundled in. “Charming,” she snarled, then she was shut In the darkness.

For several moments there was the scrape of feet outside, the rampaging thunder of her pulse, and ragged breaths trying not to become sobs.

After everything… this is how it ends?

Then there was motion, and a sudden vibration she did not expect.

“Genever,” she gasped, struggling in the narrow confines to dig Genever’s phone from her bra where it had gone undetected.

A text message, from Nomura no less, reminding her to see Kirisawa tomorrow.

With trembling hands she pressed call, and prayed that since the text had gone through, the call would too.

“A little la…” Nomura’s voice began, but Miho rushed over him.

“Nobu! I was jumped in an alley outside a café in Shibuya and I’ve been bundled into the trunk. They’re going to kill me out of spite for messing with their plans.”

“Wha… Miho?” he sought, his voice as shocked as it had been when she’d called him after the Tres Spades explosion. “Who?”

“The terrorists I guess,” she sniffed, struggling not to lose herself completely. “They’re taking me somewhere, they took my phone but I had Genever’s… they want to send a message and they’re going to kill me,” she repeated.

“We can track your phone, but you’re going to have to buy us as much time as you can,” Nomura told her with calm urgency, and Miho closed her eyes, breathing heavily. “Miho, I’m not going to let you die,” he promised.

“Right… right,” she panted, trying to calm her heartbeat, ease the frantic burning of her lungs. “I’ll, when we stop I’ll put the phone back in my bra…”

“Figures you’d want me in there,” Nomura laughed, and Miho actually managed to cough out a chuckle.

“I’ll try to stall, to tell you where I am when I can, if it doesn’t sound suspicious,” she went on, the muttered stream of consciousness helping a little. “There were… um… how many in the alley?”

She thought hard, tried to picture it as a police officer would picture it, sharp and clear.

“Three, plus the one who grabbed me,” she hissed. “Then, four, and one more, the American.”

“American?” Nomura repeated.

Perhaps he wanted more information, or maybe he just wanted to remind her he was still there and listening.

“He had a thick accept, Texan maybe, very redneck,” she continued. “Smoker, wearing a grey, no, dark navy suit, double breasted, really out of place… blue eyes, dirty blond hair…”

Toward the end of her ramble, she dissolved into tears again, but before Nomura could offer her further reassurance she sucked a sob deep into her chest and trapped it there.

“Nobu?” she prompted, and her suddenly apparent calm caused Nomura’s chest to clench.

“I’m here, Miho,” he smiled, for her sake, even though she couldn’t see him.    

“I treated you horribly,” she declared. “And I know I said you shouldn’t forgive me for just, throwing you away because I was afraid, but… but I want you to forgive me. I want you to.”

“Honey I do,” he told her, only now his voice wavering a little. “And when this is over, if you let me, I’ll prove just how much I forgive you.”

“I want that too,” she sniffed, and though she was probably travelling to her death, she felt some relief knowing she wouldn’t be carrying that guilt to her grave.

Only regret.                                    

Though he continued to move and spoke to people in the background, Nomura updated Miho on police progress as much as she could, until Miho announced the vehicle she was travelling in had slowed.

“We still need time baby, buy that time,” Nomura encouraged.

“I’m going to mute you,” Miho inhaled slowly.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said sternly, then with a trembling finger, she muted him and tucked the phone firmly back into her bra.

The car stopped. Doors opened and slammed like they didn’t care who heard, and there was a strange, faint echo.

“Echo,” she whispered though she hardly heard it over her thundering pulse. “Like it’s an open space but, surrounded, by metal.”

Then footsteps approached and she prepared herself.

When the trunk opened, one of the larger men reached in and dragged out her by the arm.

“Ow ow ow Jesus, I can get out myse… ow!” she complained, steadying her balance before wiping at her cheeks with her free hand before looking around. “Really? The Keihin District steelworks? That’s what you meant by poetic?”

God I hope you heard that Nobu.

“Well, had Abukara not met his untimely demise before I could acquire the information from him, then kill him myself, this would be just another industrial site,” the Texan mused, watching where he was watching as he followed Miho and her guard as she was led toward the water’s edge.

“I didn’t kill Abukara,” Miho hissed out. “You can hardly blame me for that.”

“I can blame you for whatever I want,” he smirked.

“And you’re going to blame me because you didn’t end up with what you wanted,” Miho added, and her captor nodded.

“Yes.”

“What if,” Miho fished, as Tokyo Bay drew closer, “what if I could still get you what you want?”

She stopped and turned, and the one who held her did also, allowing her to look at the Texan.

“I’d say you were merely making a desperate play for your own life, and a pathetic one at that,” he responded.

“Maybe,” she agreed with an awkward nod and a shrug, “but when you’re fucking the Public Safety Captain who was in charge of the operation to recover the information you’re after, you have certain privileges­. The, the difference this time would be you’d have the information, and Public Safety would never even know about it.”

Please don’t believe what I just said Nobu. Kaga WISHES.

The Texan shifted his posture and tilted his head.

“I’m listening,” he smiled, seemed amused by her last ditched effort.

“I’m still under investigation,” Miho declared, and continued to talk, peering around as she did, noting a figure on one of the roofs nearby.

Meanwhile, several buildings away, another person joined the party, and also noticed the rooftop gunman overseeing the Texan’s proceedings.

“Spoil sports,” Hikaru huffed, taking careful aim, and with a silent shot, the Texan’s sniper was dead, slumping soundlessly forward against his gun and still hunched like he was aiming downward.

“Eisuke,” Hikaru said through his earbud. “It’s a real party down here. You want me to take out the bad guys? Looks like they’re fixing to dump Fujiwara in the bay.”

It was a little bit funny to Hikaru, since it had been he who killed Abukara for the information in the first place and dropped him in the water – careless though, since the body had been found.

“No,” Eisuke’s voice replied. “If they kill her, take out the lackies, but I’d actually like a private word with their leader if at all possible.”

“Heh,” Hikaru snickered, and resumed watching.

She was animated, and Hikaru had to, in some cold, detached way, admire her gumption as she tried to convince her would-be killers to spare her life.

“Ha, she might actually convince them she can swipe that info from Public Safety,” he murmured.

“Shame she wasn’t a better actor before she got kidnapped,” Eisuke commented, but Hikaru volleyed back, had never been afraid of Eisuke.

“She had you convinced,” he pointed out, then huffed quietly when he spied the approach of a small fleet of cars. “Oh, looks like the cavalry has arrived.”

But there was nothing Miho could do to warn her rescuers that the roof held terrible danger, not without giving herself away.

“You kill me,” she exhaled, her mouth bone dry again, but she shook off the man who held her and with hands out wither side of her, was allowed to approach the Texan, “what do you gain? A moment of satisfaction? The further ire of police?”

He watched her, one of his hands holding his own gun casually at his side.

“Let me go, and you get everything you wanted from the start, and more,” she finished.

“And what might compel you to follow through the moment I let you go, hmm?” he mused darkly, reaching out his free hand and coiling his fingers lightly around her throat.

“You don’t think I have a trustworthy face?” she swallowed, and he squeezed a little.

“What do you think a bullet would do, to that trustworthy face?” he whispered, leaning forward a little, bringing their faces uncomfortably close.

“Nothing pleasant,” Miho managed through clenched teeth. “You’ve already shown you can find me – I have no doubt at all you could find and kill me if I thought of a double cross. Letting me go now puts you in very little danger.”

“You’ve seen my face,” he pointed out, and Miho had to quash her revulsion as his hand slid up under her chin.

But his focus on her face did serve some purpose, a purpose that became absolutely crucial as she spied a familiar figure in the distance.

“I have,” she agreed, leaning her head a little into his hand, steeling herself for what she was about to do. “And it’s pissing me off.”

Though he’d held the gun pointed at her body, the Texan surely hadn’t thought Miho would make a play for it. Her sudden grip on his wrist and the swiftness of her movement to force his arm out to the side, cleared her of its harm, but discharged a bullet in the process.

“Nobu, sniper!” Miho shrieked, as Nomura, Kirisawa and the others from Second Unit appeared with their weapons drawn, shouting for the terrorists to freeze, while scanning the rooftops.

“Gah!” Miho grunted as she took the Texan’s elbow under her chin, and together they hit the ground and rolls in a struggle of arms and legs without technique.

 But there was just enough room in their grapple to squeeze a trigger.

 Just enough time to twitch a second time.

 And Nomura watched in horror as Miho’s body was shoved away, how it tumbled down the embankment.

 Like.

A.

Ragdoll.

Continue to Part Twenty-Seven: Why Are You Stopping?

@hifftn @ladystar0710 @nitelotus @belxsar @smutmylifeup @smile-smile-ichthys @mirandaflamel

[somewhatunconscious]

Yep, I’m officially back :)

This doodle is gonna be part of the new updates on my Her Love in the Force Fanfic.

Tamiko Hayase’s dress is inspired from Kendall Jenner’s Calvin Klein two piece bandeau dress circa 2015 AmFar Gala but with my own personal twist

Updates on the HLITFFF on Wattpad :)

[josiesparklelove]

officer i was not resisting arrest i was just being tsundere -- Okay but this for LLFTX!Josie or MPD!Josie

@labyrinthofleah

Josie sat in a blank interrogation room rolling her eyes for the thousandth time. She alternated between looking to the camera hung in the far right top corner of the room and the two-way mirror in front of her. Her hands were cuffed in front of her, she sat them on the metal table and sighed ... again. 

“C’mon, I know you’re there. Just get in here and get it over with already.” She griped to the mirror. A displeased look on her face before the door quickly opened, Kirisawa pushed it open smiling at her and the rookie cop who cuffed her ran inside with the key. 

“I’M SO SORRY MA’AM! I HAD NO IDEA! YOU... You... were just... not listening and...” The poor man, probably barely out of the academy stammered and shook as he dropped the key for the third time. 

“It’s fine... Officer?” She waited for his name, but he was too busy trying to remember how keys worked to think of his own name and she continued, “I wasn’t resisting arrest... I was just, as my colleagues say, being a tsundere.... I guess.” She rolled her eyes again hearing some snickering from the still open door into the hallway. 

Finally a small click and her hands were free, she lightly rubbed at her wrists to soothe the chafing.

“I’m so sorry again! If I would have known you were a cop too, I would have...”

“Yeah, well, guess... I should have said my badge number louder then, maybe?” She asked, confused as she remembers specifically giving it to him, but the rookie cop was too busy reciting his textbook to pay attention. 

“I’m sorry!” He wailed one more time, folding nearly in half as he bowed in submission. 

She sighed and pat his shoulder as she stood up. “It’s okay kid, just... I dunno, dont forget to pay attention in the moment, okay?” She offered some sort of advice for the next generation and he rushed off. As she walked out of the room, Kirisawa handed her bag to her - saving her a step from picking it up from the evidence locker. As she turned down the hallway, there stood the entirety of the 2nd Unit all with evil little grins on their faces as if they had something up on her. 

“It was just a bit of luck I happened to be roaming through the scanner channels when I heard a familiar voice screaming well.. things that shouldn’t be repeated in mixed company from the back of a squad car.” Kyobashi said, a little glint of light flickered off his glasses. 

“Yeah, and couldn’t have kept that to yourself?” She asked deadpanned. 

“Why, Sparkle, I’m surprised at you. We work as a team in 2nd Unit.” He feigned haughtiness before Tennoji couldn’t hold it anymore and burst out laughing. 

“You shoulda seen your face, Sparkle. You were madder than a hornet!” He grabbed at his sides. 

“I took a pic. Made it my phones background.” Hanai said. 

“Me too.” Eiki replied. And soon the others all repeated and held up their phones for proof. Even Kirisawa.

“Yeah. Yeah. Sure you’re not a group of clowns instead of detectives?” She said and turned on her heel, before stomping away. 

She wasn’t too far away when Tennoji hesitated to take a step forward. Kyobashi quickly whispered to him, “Go on, I’ll be sure to send you another copy when she inevitably destroys your phone.”

Tennoji sent him surprised if not happy smile before plodding after her. The rest of the unit watched him go before they began to leave down the other way. Soon they heard Tennoji yelp in pain before they collectively nodded and continued on their way. 

[reinasescape]

To Be Continued (Masashi Himuro)

Summary: Marriage is a wonderful chapter of life, but when something unexpectedly happens to the leading lady, what does the male protagonist do? Masashi never expected to find marriage a part of his story, but ever since she found her way into his life, he couldn’t see him life without it. She’s been gone for nearly 7 years now. Can he bear to close the book and say that their story’s done? As a medical examiner, he isn’t new to death, but when it’s her name on the death certificate, can he put his pen to the paper? 

Finale: One Step Forward

For other parts: Masterpost

The distinct buzz of a phone rang through your sleep addled mind. Every part of you was exhausted, all cried out, so you sank into the bed, hoping the buzzing would just stop. The mattress shifted as Masashi got out, the bed already colder for it. His baritone was quiet, and through half opened eyelids you could tell that it was still dark out. What could anyone want this time of night? You heard the closet door slide open and the shuffling of fabric. “Masashi?” By the faint light of a lamp, your husband was slipping on a shirt. “Did I wake you?” A gentle hand brushed your hair. “Did something happen?” “My brother’s coming over to pick up some files.” “So early?” “It’s the only time he has before we leave. He’s covering my cases until I get back.” “Oh. Must be hard to have to work on Sunday.” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you swung your legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll make breakfast.” “It’s fine.” Gently pushing you back onto the bed, he chastely kissed your forehead. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to get ready.” “Mmm I should make breakfast.” “Listen to me,” he insisted. You wavered between decorum and exhaustion. Sleep won. “Alright. Good night Masashi.” “Sleep well.”

-----

It was a bright Sunday. The sun was shining and not a cloud in sight. The atmosphere in the tatami room felt oppressive though. You and Masashi sat seiza style in front of your father. Even though it was only the three of you, it felt like there was a gulf between you. In the seven years you spent with them, they were always loving, you never doubted it.

But no matter how you asked, they had refused to talk about your time away from your hometown, and seeing the pain on their faces, you never pressed. Everyone simply took it for granted that you were Eri Sato. After all, the resemblance was uncanny. It was hard to believe that the girl in the photos wasn’t you. Harder to believe since your mother had given you her blood when you had Kouhei. They gave you everything.

Your father was the first to break the silence. “Eri.” “Dad,” you sighed with relief that he was still talking to you. “You came back.” “Of course I did.” “I didn’t think you would.” “Why wouldn’t I? You’re still my dad.” The back of your throat stung with unshed tears. “Kouhei?” “He’s doing great. I dropped him off at Ayaka’s.” “That’s good.” The relief was so apparent on your father’s face. You wanted to reach out and hold his hand, comfort him somehow. The father that had supported you looked so frail now. His hair seemed to be peppered with more white, and the wrinkles at his mouth and eyes deeper. His eyes were dull, the spark that had always twinkled when he laughed was gone. It hurt to see him look so tired.

“And this person?” he asked. “Himuro. We met at the hospital,” Masashi said formally. “Right.”  Your father rubbed the bridge of his nose. Masashi with his hands on his knees bowed deeply. “I’m sorry. I should’ve introduced myself properly earlier. I’m married to your daughter.” “Married to my daughter…” “Dad....” you pleaded. “I need a moment.” The two of you held your tongues. “Kouhei looks like him.” “He does.” Your expression softened.

“And mom?” you asked hesitantly. Your father’s face tensed again, and guilt filled your heart. “She’s having a hard time adjusting.” “I’m so sorry.” “We don’t blame you Eri. I feared this might happen. I hoped it wouldn’t, but it did.” “Dad… Can I go see her?” “She needs more time. I don’t want her to get too worked up.” “Dad…” “She loves you so much Eri.” “And I love her too.” “I know,but it’s hard on her.”

“It’s like when you, when the other you disappeared the first time,” your father corrected. You held your breath. They never brought this up voluntarily, and now… You waited for your father to find his voice again. Everyone had a story, especially the girl in the photos.

-----

Masashi’s pulse pounded in his throat. His grip on _________’s hand only tighten as he listened to the tale of Eri Sato.

It was like the tale of so many other girls. Young and vibrant and gone too soon. He had seen no shortage of them in the forums that he frequented. The anecdotes of the loved ones left behind and those whom hoped to find solace in others who had gone through the same tragedy. It was a place where the survivors hoped against all reason and tried to live with themselves day by day.

Masashi listened to the rise and fall of her father’s voice. Eri Sato had been young and headstrong, not unlike his own wife. Eri had left doting parents for dreams of the big city. And for a while all was well. Then the calls became less and less frequent. Her parents thought she was just being rebellious. Growing apart was painful but expected. She was dazzled by the lights and shedding her childhood self. But when the calls stopped altogether, they started to worry. It was every parent's’ nightmare: an empty room, absences at university, and friends that had no idea where she was. The rumors were just as bad. Eri had pulled away from her friends. They thought she might have gotten a boyfriend since she always seemed busy, except they never met one. So the rumors got worst, and people whispered. ‘Perhaps she was seeing a married man and that’s why no one ever met the man.’ But they had all seen her get in and out of an expensive car several times.

Her father’s voice cracked as he spoke ill of his beloved daughter. His Eri couldn’t be a homewrecker. She was so bright and pretty. She didn’t need to go after a married man. Even as he defended her, old wounds opened and bled anew. When words dissolved into choked tears, Masashi left to let them grieve in peace.

-----

The air buzzed with the sound of insects on a summer day. Sunflowers swayed in the breeze as the school bell rang, shortly followed by the sound of gleeful children. For one little boy, he dragged his feet out the door. He was feeling torn today, for he was leaving the only home he’s ever known for something he always wanted. Kouhei felt the back of his nose sting as he thought of how his grandpa and grandma had wished him a tearful goodbye this morning. His backpack was full of little gifts and the cards all his classmates had signed.

“You promise you’ll visit?” a little girl trailed after him, her ponytail swinging behind her. Her dark eyes swam with unshed tears. Her cupid’s bow quivering. “Promise. Mommy said we’re having dinner at grandpa and grandma’s in two Sundays.” “But what about school? It’s closed on Sunday.” Her pout grew. “We can meet in the field behind school.” “Promise?” she looked at him hopefully. “Promise!” With a shake of their pinkies, the two sealed their promise.

“Kouhei!” Kouhei turned toward the voice calling. “Daddy!” His face broke out in a huge smile as his parents waved at him. The smile fell a little when he turned back to look at his friend. “Mommy and Daddy are waiting.” “You’ll write?” “I told you I would didn’t I?” “Yeah,” she reluctantly agreed. “Kou! We have to go.” “Coming!”

Turning to the girl, he smiled like his daddy taught him. It wasn’t a goodbye. It was a ‘see you later.’ He had made a promise, and gentlemen kept their promises. So he didn’t say goodbye. “I have to go.” “You promised right?” “Promise! See you!”

Author’s Note: Thank you everyone for following this little family for the past year. I hope they broke and healed your heart with what they lost then found! I cannot say enough to tell you how much your support means to me.

See you in the next series!

Support me with a cup of coffee

Commission Info

[jessyurahara]

The Fall - Hiroshi Kirisawa

A sigh fell from your lips as you gazed down at the street below you, feeling the mans gun dig into your back, you didn't know how you ended up in this situation but you did, but as you stared down at the darkened street you took note of the whirring sounds, and the flashing lights that were approaching, your team finally pulling up.

Shoving you forwards, you almost fell from the ledge, but somehow regaining your balance, you allowed a sigh to slip from your lips, praying mentally for yourself, hoping that somehow you'd manage to get through this hard day, this wasn't how you wanted to go out, you could even see the news teams beginning to filter into the area, the police now having begun to fence off the assumed area where you would fall, with multiple negotiators had come to the closest window, attempting to talk to the criminal, the man wasn't letting you go, you knew that as you attempted to force a smile onto your face, tears beginning to fall, you knew what was about to happen, he was going to force you over that ledge and if he didn't he would shoot you off.

Taking a deep breath, glassy, clouded eyes you looked down at the negotiator who was hanging out of the window, and softly shaking your head you calmly spoke with pleading eyes, holding back the tears, "Not until I speak to him" You whispered to the criminal behind you, you'd take the leap, giving up your life without him having to shoot you, you just needed to see him one last time, to look into the eyes of the man you were going to marry and hear him say he loved you, and for you to say you love him, with a soft, sweet confession you'd ready yourself for death. "Who?" The negotiator asked, seeming to understand the conversation, "My fiance, he knows who he is" You whispered, praying he would show up before your life was ended by this criminal. You needed him in these final moments, and yet, there was not a word from him, no sign that your love was going to show up before the light of your life was extinguished. Hope filled you that he'd show up, that if he didn't he simply hadn't heard, yet, half the city's police force was there, so there was no way he didn't know, perhaps after all this time, he just didn't love you anymore, and you couldn't understand why, why he hadn't made contact. Just one call, his voice, would comfort you as the metal pressed harder into your back.

Glancing over the crowd with glassy eyes, you knew soon you'd meet the ground whether you'd been shot or pushed, or you'd taken life into your own hands and leaped, you knew your life was over, but you missed his voice, and his presence, your heart was crying out for him. Perhaps though, Hiroshi never loved you.

The final thought made you want to cry as your eyes rested briefly on the gleaming silver of your engagement ring, thinking about the good times, the way he held you when he first confessed, that first kiss under the shining light of the moon, the way he always made you promise that you'd stay safe, he hated letting you out alone, yet, pain shot throughout you. Hiroshi Kirisawa, all you'd been counting down for was for your wedding, thinking about the perfect white dress that rested in your wardrobe, you'd bought it a few days ago, looking forward to bringing tears to Hiroshi's eyes as he watched you walk down the aisle, speaking your vows, till death do you part, you hadn't even had the chance yet, you were going to part before you could wed.

Retracing every moment with Hiroshi mentally you thought about every time he'd said he loved you, trying to bring yourself some peace as you felt the man behind you shift, you could feel him growing trigger itchy, and any moment everything was going to end.

"Come on" You heard one of the various negotiators call out to the criminal, they'd offered him everything, and he wanted nothing but your death, you'd long forgotten what you'd done to him, yet, you knew that he wanted you gone.

And then, everything faded as he pulled the trigger, your hands fell to your stomach, and you turned on your heels facing the criminal, allowing him to see the tears that fell down your cheeks, a hand holding onto the finger with your engagement ring on, bloodshot eyes, that were red-rimmed, "I love you Hiroshi" You muttered as you stumbled backward, you saw the negotiators reach out, you heard someone crash through the door on the roof, but you could feel yourself growing cold as one of your feet fell from the roof, the other one did, and you heard another shot, taking note of the criminal falling as you did, the wind passing you, it felt like those few seconds were taking years, as you saw Hiroshi leaning over the side of the roof, a smile touched your lips in those final moments, "I love you" You whispered again, trying to get your point across, but all he was doing was calling out your name, crying for someone to rescue you, as he grew further away you slowly caught the way that the tears began to fall down his cheeks, just as they fell down your own.

Thinking about the life you'd missed living with Hiroshi, as you clung to your chest, pain rushing through you as you grew closer to the ground, as Hiroshi disappeared.

And, with that you collided with the asphalt, and finally arriving at the bottom Hiroshi was left clinging to your dead body as people tried to pull him away, holding onto his fiance, wishing to have her back more than anything, tears falling down his cheeks, his head buried in your neck, as he pleaded with you to open your eyes, to tell him you loved him one last time, thinking about that life you would have had.

Never wanting to part from you, yet, you were already cold.

Back to MPDCTY Drabbles/ Hiroshi Kirisawa Drabbles

Headcannons/ Love Letters/ Stories/ Drabbles

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

‘Choosing Sides’ Part Twenty-seven - Why Are You Stopping?

It rained for three days without stop, and finally on the fourth, the sun came out. But warmth was stolen by solemnity, by the slow moving, darkly attired procession, weaving their way behind a shiny black hearse.

Kyobashi cast a sideways glance at Nomura, whose face was set like stone, his eyes fixed forward upon the flower covered coffin in the vehicle they trailed. Likewise, on his other side Kirisawa’s expression reflected the same concentrated stoicism, though others were already sobbing.

“I fuckin’ hate this shit,” Tennoji muttered under his breath, emotion threatening to spill over as everyone gathered at the gravesite.

“No one likes funerals,” Hanai hissed.

“Yeah, well I hate this one more than usual,” Tennoji sniffed.

Poignant words were spoken in voices choked by sorrow and grief – hands clenched into fists, desires flaring for revenge, eyes burning. And when the coffin lowered slowly, many who had held so tightly to their composure finally lost it.

“You going to the wake?” Kirisawa sighed when only a few people lingered in the cemetery, and Nomura rubbed his hand over his face in an uncommon display of exhaustion.

“No,” he exhaled, “but you guys go ahead.”

“Then you should get some rest,” Kirisawa suggested with a concerned frown. “You’ve hardly slept since…”

“I’ll sleep when…”

Then Nomura’s phone rang, and he answered to end the conversation.

“What?” he snapped, not even looking who the caller was, hell for all he knew it was a superior. “Just now? I’ll be right there.”

Kirisawa looked at him with a questioning eyebrow raised, but Nomura didn’t even look at him, he just turned and ran.

 Unceremoniously, Nomura slammed his hand against the painted blue door and it swung inward, hitting the doorstop with a loud thud.

One head turned sharply, eyes narrowed judgementally, while the other looked over a lot more languidly.

“This is a hospital Deputy Chief,” Kaga dropped sourly.

But Kaga may as well not be in the room at all.

Nomura moved straight to the bedside, snatched up Miho’s hand and pressed his lips to the back of it.

“You make it pretty hard for a guy to look cool doing a rescue when you want to wrestle terrorists,” he told her breathlessly.

“We were having a moment,” Kaga frowned, and finally Nomura actually looked at him, eye to eye as the Captain stood.

“I appreciate you keeping her company, Captain,” Nomura smiled, thrusting his hand at the other man. “But I can take it from here.”

“Excuse me?” Kaga responded, frown becoming a scowl.

“I’m sure, no, I know you have terrorists to interrogate still,” Nomura added, his tone and expression unchanged, even as Kaga stood.

“Captain,” Miho said weakly, and Kaga looked down into her face, then back at Nomura before backing away.

The lines across his forehead remained, but he nodded; perhaps in that one word she’d spoken, the word she’d chosen to use, told him he’d lost for good, and her hand in Nomura’s indicated to whom.

With a nod, Kaga completed his strategic withdrawal without bluster, closing Nomura and Miho in the hospital room together. Silence ensued, the pair just looking at each other, until Nomura leaned down slowly, watching her face closely for any alarm.

“When I heard the shots,” he whispered, resting his weight on the hand he placed to one side of her pillow, “saw your body just… tumble…”

He swallowed, suddenly swept away by the memory.

“Miho!” Nomura yelled, firing upon the man Miho had been grappling with.

Other gunfire rang out, some belonging to the police, some the terrorists, but Nomura made a straight path, beyond the man he’d disabled, to where Miho’s body had come to a stop.

Face down.

At the water’s edge.

“No no no,” he shuddered, skidding down on his knees, tearing through the fabric of his suit pants. “Miho?”

Rolling her over revealed confirmation of what he’d seen and heard. Blood leaked through her blouse, soaked the material through.

“Answer me,” he demanded, pressing his hands down over the wounds. “Miho answer me!”

“I’m sorry,” she exhaled, so quietly he’d not have heard her if he’d not been stooped so closely.

Her eyes peeked open, just a fraction, but that was all Nomura got.

She stared through those tear leaking eyes, through him, through everything, and continued to stare.

“No!” he shouted, frantically calling for medical aid before checking for breath and pulse.

But she didn’t respond.

“You were dead,” he said, almost against her lips.

“I heard you, calling my name,” she smiled faintly, his brown eyes shimmering with tears just above her.

“God, I thought you were gone,” he hissed.

The relieved warmth of his lips on hers was restrained, as restrained as he could manage considering what he really wanted was to wrap her firmly up in his arms and squeeze.

“Kaga said,” Miho sighed when they disengaged, and Nomura sat where Kaga had been, still holding her hand, “an officer was killed.”

With a sigh, Nomura nodded.

“Yeah,” he affirmed. “The bad guys came out swinging, and he was unlucky.”

Closing her eyes, Miho took a slow breath, as deeply as she could though it hurt.

“That’s not fair,” she murmured.

“No, it’s not,” he agreed. “And I know saying it’s a potential hazard of the job isn’t likely to make you feel any better, but it was his choice, to do what was right, to be one of the good guys.”

With a gentle swipe, Nomura caught the tear that race over Miho’s cheek before it could hit the pillow.

“And the terrorists?” she managed, opening swimming eyes.

“I should have aimed for where that bastard’s heart should have been,” Nomura asserted. “But I didn’t. Now, he’ll have to pay for what he’s done.”

“Assuming the American’s don’t want him,” Miho pointed out, trying to compose herself.

“They can have him after we’re done,” Nomura sniffed, then looked over his shoulder at the door and back again. “Um… I know this is a bit off topic but, you said some things while I was listening, and I get here and Oresama Kaga is sitting…”

“No,” Miho answered. “No we never… I just needed a way to seem useful; you said buy time.”

“I did,” he agreed. “Not that you could, you know, with him, if you wanted to I just…”

“Nobu, I didn’t have sex with Kaga,” she stated more plainly.

But it was difficult to be glad Nomura seemed to feel the way he did when someone had died. Since the moment Kaga told her, Miho’s mind had been turning the officer’s death over and over.

What else could she have done? Could she have not called Nomura and still saved herself?

“Hey,” Nomura prompted, asserting his presence to the back of her hand once more. “You can’t change the past.”

“I know,” she exhaled, her eyes shooting to the door when it opened and Eisuke Ichinomiya walked in without welcome.

“Mr. Ichinomiya,” Nomura frowned, rising to his feet.

“Relax, Deputy Chief,” Eisuke smirked in his usual way, lifting the modest bunch of flowers he’d brought with him. “I’m merely here to congratulate Miss Fujiwara on a successful outcome.”

“A good man is dead, Ichinomiya!” Miho exclaimed, sitting up a little in anger before flopping back with a grimace.

“Now is not the time, nor is this the place to gloat,” Nomura told him flatly.

“Gloat?” Eisuke repeated. “No, I just wanted to thank Miss Fujiwara for playing her part. Now we can all sleep a little more soundly.”

“Or you might if you still had a penthouse to sleep in,” Miho jabbed. “Thanks for the flowers, but I’d like you to leave.”

“You heard the lady,” Nomura encouraged.

“Oh? A lady, is that what she is?”

Nomura fought the urge to ruffle.

Eisuke poked again.

“Of course she wouldn’t have told you what she did in the pursuit of…”

“How you promised her an evening free of impropriety then pressured her to join you in the hot tub?” Nomura interrupted. “Actually, I’ve read her report, and cannot for the life of me think why terrorists would target such a fine, wholesome, upstanding citizen such as yourself. Thank you for stopping by, I’m sure you’re a very busy man.”

Eisuke’s upper lip twitched as Nomura held out his hand for the flowers, that Eisuke shoved at him.

“Here’s hoping your recovery is incident free,” he said dryly, then made his exit.

“I hate that smug asshole,” Miho growled.

“Yeah, there’s a whole lot not right about him,” Nomura seconded. “You called out to warn me of a sniper, and you weren’t wrong,” he went on. “Except he had already taken a bullet. Furthermore, Dr. Himuro put his time of death not long after you arrived at the steelworks.”

“How?” Miho queried with a mild frown as Nomura sat again. “You think Ichinomiya had something to do with it?”

“Maybe,” he grunted, tossing the flowers in the bin before lacing his fingers through hers. “Rest assured, I’ll be looking into it.”

Relaxing, absorbing the warmth of Nomura’s palm pressed to hers, Miho closed her eyes.

“Yeah, you should sleep,” he smiled, stroking her hair gently. “I’ll stay for a while.”

“You have work,” she murmured, the light dance of his fingers soothing her heart.

“Work can wait for a while,” he told her softly. “I just want to sit here and touch you.”

 When Miho woke next, Nomura was gone, but he’d left her a little note saying he’d check in as soon as he could.

With just the muffled sound of people talking and feet shuffling outside, Miho had plenty of time to think.

Nomura forgave you, but what does that mean?

She’d called for him to save her and he had, and though she’d been shot, twice in fact – and should have stayed dead – he had kept his promise. His kiss reignited memories of the steamy encounters of their past – passionate, burning, quivering – but the reason why she’d walked away also surfaced.

She felt ashamed of allowing her fear to hurt him, to dictate her life.

But you’re not like that now. You stood for something – in the face of Eisuke, in the face of Kaga, down the barrel of a gun. So if he’d take you back, if he really could… is that what you want?

 Others visited during her hospital stay – Goto, Ishigami, even Genever, but there were some who stayed away. Baba called and apologised for not being able to drop in, something about a job overseas. Kaga called, but Miho could tell Nomura had made an impression on him by his tone of voice, the impression there was no room for a Public Safety captain in her romantic life.

After thirteen days, Miho was going stir crazy, just itching to get home.

She’d been advised her recovery could take as long as eight weeks, during which time she would be heavily restricted with what she should physically do.

“I’ll make sure she takes it easy,” Nomura declared when the doctor was done explaining, and Miho shot him an unsure look.

He had insisted on picking her up and taking her home, and though Miho felt maybe she should have argued, she didn’t.

“You just make yourself comfortable,” he said when they entered, and he carried her bag into the bedroom.

It felt strange, that he acted as if they had never broken up, and Miho wasn’t sure if she was comfortable with it or not, regardless of her attraction.

“Nobu, I can do that much,” she muttered, following after him at a tentative pace.

“I’m not so old I don’t remember where all your stuff goes,” Nomura snorted, glancing back. “Hey, you’re supposed to be taking it easy. You want to end up back in the hospital?”

“I’m walking… I can walk,” she scowled, but in spite of her effort winced when her toe caught on the rug and she stumbled a little.

Immediately Nomura rushed forward and took her elbows, helping her to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Okay, I surrender,” she grimaced with a careful sigh, and Nomura took her head in his hands, standing before her.

“You going to let me take care of you?” he smirked down at her.

“You don’t have time to look after an invalid,” she pointed out, but the brush of his little fingers just behind her ears caused her skin to heat up.

“Eh, I’ve got some leave,” he told her, “so don’t fight me.”

“You going to take leave from organising mixers too?” she enquired.

She could have said it with cheek, but it was a probing question designed to make him ask himself if he wanted to give up that freedom by sliding back into a relationship with her.

“Do I want to give up being a bachelor in order to be with, and take care of someone I care about deeply?” he rephrased, then grinned that bright, confident grin. “Eh, the mixers haven’t been fun since we set the bar so high that night in the bathroom.”

“Oh god,” Miho chuckled, then gasped again.

“Okay, it’s into bed, or onto the couch for you,” he ordered, and with that, his caretakership was decided.

 Though he spent a fair amount of time on the phone telling people how to cope without him, Nomura temporarily moved into Miho’s apartment. He slept on the couch, he wasn’t so presumptuous as to think he could join Miho in the bedroom, and even if he had been, he didn’t want to disturb her sleep.

It took but days for that lingering uncomfortable doubt to evaporate from Miho’s mind and heart, leaving her wonder at the stupidity of letting him go in the first place. But he’d come back to her, and that was totally amazing.

He’d been gone twenty minutes or so when the doorbell rang, and rising from where she’d been sitting at the dining table, Miho went to answer it. She was surprised when she peered through the peephole at who she saw standing there, and knew this was written on her face when she opened the door.

“Ambassador,” Miho blinked, then hazarded a smile when he lifted a bunch of flowers – a bunch, mind you, by far more elaborate than those Eisuke had brought her at the hospital.

“For a woman who was shot twice at close range, you look remarkably well, Miss Fujiwara,” he smiled thinly, offering the bouquet.

“Thank you,” she smiled, taking the flowers and backing up a step. “Please, come in.”

With a nod, Hishikura took up her offer and entered her apartment.

“Tea?” she asked.

“Please,” he replied, scanning her living space quickly before following her to the kitchen. “It would seem you are most resilient. You have survived quite an ordeal.”

“Mmm,” Miho murmured, filling the electric jug before turning it on. “I had a little help along the way,” she elaborated, turning to look into his face.

“Oh?” he queried in an offhand tone.

“Will you deny you sent me to USB?” she asked him directly.

The kettle bubbled away behind her.

“If I did, it would mean you are quite indebted to me,” he mused, removing a handkerchief from his pocket, taking off his glasses and cleaning them casually. “You don’t find that concept, uncomfortable?” he questioned, positioning the glasses back against his face.

“I don’t especially like to owe people,” Miho responded slowly. “But I will pay what’s due.”

“Still an idealist, even now?” Hishikura smirked, then pointed. “The kettle has boiled.”

“Leave it to a politician to misdirect,” Miho grumbled, but she thought his reluctance to admit he’d helped her was not entirely about protecting himself from the admission he’d had access to the information all along.

Perhaps he thinks I’ve already paid enough?

“Merely pointing out a fact,” he disagreed lightly.

“You know,” she said brightly, changing the subject as she made their tea, “when I’m back at one hundred percent I’m going to need a new job. I don’t suppose you know anyone looking for a foolhardy bilingual crusader with rudimentary law enforcement experience?”

At this Hishikura actually laughed.

“Sadly, I already have a secretary,” he said. “I think that role would suit you well.”

Then his smile twisted a little.

“Perhaps you should ask Ichinomiya?”

Dropping the spoon on the countertop with a clang, she turned with both cups and motioned back out to the living room.

“I don’t think it will come as any surprise to you, that I’d rather take another bullet than ask Ichinomiya Eisuke for anything,” she told him, handing him his cup once he was seated.

“But you’d ask me?” he continued, raising an eyebrow.

“I did,” she affirmed, carefully lowering herself onto the couch before continuing. “However, I am aware, though I don’t know the specific details, that you and Ichinomiya are connected. I believe he knew the information I was looking for was always in the Tres Spades.”

“So, by your theory, if I did send you the USB, I must have acquired it from him?” he posed, then took a sip of his tea.

“It’s a distinct possibility,” she nodded slowly, blowing across the top of her cup, creating hazy swirls of steam. “And, if you do have some shady connection to that asshole, I suggest you distance yourself.”

“Oh?” he prompted yet again, not looking the slightest bit bothered by Miho’s suggestions.

“I have it on good authority that the police will be looking into Ichinomiya’s affairs,” Miho revealed, making meaningful eye contact. “Even the rumour of being investigated could be very damaging to a reputation and a career.”

“I appreciate you offering a warning,” he smiled slightly. “But it truly is not necessary.”

“I hope that’s true, I really do,” she told him honestly. “There’s a lot I don’t know about you, Ambassador, but I think, you are more of an idealist than you’d admit.”

“I suppose anything is possible,” he responded evasively, and Miho didn’t push for more.

It was enough he’d come to say hello and wish her well.

When he was gone, Miho relaxed on the couch and ultimately fell asleep. It was to a gentle sensation against her hair and the quiet whisper of her name close to her ear.

“Mmm, sorry, guess I just konked out,” she muttered, stretching carefully.

“What are you apologising for?” Nomura chuckled, sitting down next to her.

Groggily she rested her head against his shoulder and exhaled a long breath.

“I can’t believe you’re still here,” she told him.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked, moving his arm across her shoulders.

Tilting her head, she looked into his face – so close.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly,” he confirmed.

“I honestly don’t,” she admitted. “Aside from the being shot part, having you here, in my life, my space every day has been… it’s what I was so afraid to lose I ran away before I could hold it again, and now… I don’t want to let it go.”

“Who says you have to?” he smiled. “Miho, I’m not just here because you were injured and need a bit of help, I’m here because I want to be here, close to you, in your space, every day.”

He gave her a soft squeeze and silence fell over them – not awkward, but comfortable, until Nomura broke it.

“So… um… think maybe I could… sleep in the bed tonight?”

Explosively Miho laughed, then cringed.

“Ow ow,” she chuckled. “You know I’m surprised you’ve lasted so long on the couch.”

“If I’m honest, I’ve been taking power naps at my desk,” he admitted sheepishly. “I can leave my toothbrush next to yours in the bathroom too, right?”

“Yeah,” Miho grinned. “I’ll even let you have an itty, bitty fraction of my wardrobe space.”

“Oh how very generous,” he sniffed.

“Uuuuh,” Miho stretched again, her legs this time. “Huh, I’ve been loafing around so much I think I’m not used to being on my feet much.”

“Sore?” he asked, and Miho nodded, only to have him slip from the couch and sit on the floor before her.

“Nobu, you’re tired,” Miho protested when he pulled her slippers off, and pressed his thumb under the arch of her left foot. “You don’t…”

“Just let me pamper you,” he argued, smoothing against her skin, over her heel, up her ankle and then back down again.

“If I start snoring, you can’t blame me then,” Miho muttered, then sighed, resting her head back against the couch cushions.

“If you do that, I might have to do something to keep you more, stimulated,” he grinned, and Miho’s eyes shot open.

In response to what he interpreted as shock, Nomura lifted his hands, but this caused Miho to sit up a little more and scowl.

“Why the are you stopping?” she grumbled. “I want you to touch me.”

The smile that bloomed on Nomura’s face spread warm fuzzies all throughout Miho’s body.

“Just, you know, be mindful I’m still a bit…” she began.

“Fragile, I know,” he nodded. “Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

There was something magical about the kneading sensation of long, strong fingers, the soft sound of his skin creating friction against hers, and the quietness of their breathing.

When he felt the tension leave her feet, Nomura crept up her calves, his hands disappearing beneath the comfy slacks she was wearing. His thumbs dug long strokes up and down the muscles, lightly brushing behind her knees with his thumbs, and Miho shivered.

“Who knew what I really wanted in my life all this time, was a live in massager butler,” she exhaled in a luxurious sigh.

“Just a massage butler?” he queried, venturing further upward, but soon found himself restricted at the elbow.

Miho bit her lip to stifle a giggle.

“You look ridiculous right now,” she grinned. “Where’s my phone?”

“Back pocket maybe?” he offered withdrawing his arms. “Here, let me help you look.

Rocking to his knees, Nomura reached for the sash at Miho’s waist and tugged it free before sliding her pants over her hips until she lifted her bottom a little off the couch.

“Careful,” he warned as he dragged her pants to her ankles and then away completely.

“I’m not that fragile,” she muttered.

“Sure you are,” he disagreed.

“And yet you’re still going to…”

She gasped when he lightly placed his hands on her hips, teasing the band of her underwear with his thumbs.

“I can’t help it,” he admitted guiltily. “I’m hungry – but if I hurt you…”

“You won’t,” she said, no doubt in her voice at all. “You’re not the only one with an appetite.”

“Oh?” he hummed, slithering his fingertips over her abdomen before ever so lightly tracing the line of her slit, still hidden behind dark purple panties.

The last time Miho had had intimate contact, had been with Baba what seemed like so long ago, and that had been born of anger and frustration at Kaga. She hadn’t even had time to satisfy herself, and so even the gentlest touch mixed with desperate anticipation, caused Miho to shudder and her breath to catch.

“I missed the way you suck in your breaths, the way you hold it,” he told her, eyes fixed on her face as he caressed slowly, pressing just hard enough to graze the hood of her clit with each pass. “The way you want it so badly but try to hold back.”

“You make it impossible,” she swallowed, trying to resist squirming against him.

“I just want to hear you…” he began, and she finished for him.

“Sing your name, right?”

“The sweetest sound of all,” he beamed, digging his forefinger right in between her folds, causing her increasing moisture to soak through the fabric in a dark line.

“I disagree,” she breathed, attempting to keep each inhale and exhale even. “The way you moan, while biting on my earlobe, that is the sweetest sound.”

“We’ll have to agree, to disagree,” he began, leaning forward to kiss the white of her inner thighs and run his tongue between her legs with maddening tenderness.

Of their own accord, Miho’s hands slunk to Nomura’s head, her fingers sliding through the soft tousle of his hair until she felt a fingertip loop under the elastic of her panties and slither to the source of her arousal.

A sharp breath hissed in through Miho’s teeth as he probed around her entrance, teasing no further, before pulling back.

“Still okay?” he asked her, and Miho made a displeased face.

“You just want me to bed, don’t you?” she grumbled, pushing down her underwear impatiently, wriggling until he helped her out.

“You’ll make a mess on the couch,” he smirked, twirling the discarded garment around.

“It’s washable,” she retorted triumphantly.

“Hmm, well in that case…”

Nomura lowered his head once more and Miho spread her legs. His face fit snuggly between them and his lips pressed around her clit. Slowly he increased the pressure of his tongue, before sucking her progressively sensitive nub into her mouth.

In response, Miho’s stomach muscles tightened and her ass lifted a little off the couch to push against him, but this caused the pull of stitches in her upper body, forcing her to sit back.

“Damnit,” she cursed breathily, as Nomura began to lap up her crease in long strokes, and she dug her fingernails into her own thighs. “Go deep, Nobu,” she hissed out, biting her lip. “You know exactly where to… to…”

Her sentence broke off when he pushed his pointer finger inside her, all the way to the knuckle, and her reflex was to clench him tightly.

“I wish… I wish…” she panted, and Nomura lifted his face, wet with her desire for him.

“I know what you wish,” he grinned, carefully adding a second finger and examining her expression. “And it’s what I want too, but for now, we’ll have to be content with this.”

“Content me harder,” she begged, and licking his lips, Nomura complied.

Occasionally Miho felt the twinge of her wounds, but the tangle of sexual frustration that had built over her campaign to get back the dangerous information, had been set ablaze. His slightly upward, deep digging thrusts and the flicker of his tongue over and around her clit, dulled everything else, everything except the thrumming urgency of her heartbeat and the storm of quivering pleasure gathering in her flesh. Her toes curled as a second finger joined the first, and Nomura lifted his eyes to take in the bliss of her expression.

She was biting her lip fiercely and digging her nails into the couch cushion, her chest rising and falling in quick succession which actually made him pause.

“What?” she whimpered breathlessly.

“Maybe…” he began, but she cut him off curtly.

“Please Nobu, make me come, let me come,” she begged, hazy eyes imploring, body quivering.

“If you pop your stitches, you know, this was a bad…” he said, but his voice was softly teasing.

“The only thing likely to pop, is you, after I wrap my fingers around you thick, hard, throbbing…”

“Jesus,” Nomura muttered.

“And my lips, tracing with my tongue,” Miho continued, carefully buking her hips against his stationary fingers still buried inside her.

“Damnit Miho,” he groaned, shifting his position a little to try and relieve some of the pressure in his pants – unsuccessfully. “Hold on then.”

With renewed vigour he drove into her, and Miho grit her teeth, the flames he stoked within her clawing furiously toward an inferno that filled every part of her until it reached and breached all limits.

With her mouth wide, breath held, her entire body clenched in painful ecstasy, quivering against Nomura’s lips still clamped over her clit, while he brushed her core with his fingertips as she rode out her orgasm.

When she finally gasped in a breath, Nomura lifted his head, but remained deep inside her warmth. That face, he knew though she had hurt him terribly, was the one he still loved, wanted to keep loving – he really had forgiven her.

“Oh God,” Miho hissed sharply, swallowing. “God… Nobu… that…”

“Shhh,” he whispered, lapping away the rush of moisture she’d produced before sitting up on the couch next to her. “You break anything?”

“Oh… oh maybe, but…”

She shivered and lolled her head to the side, against his shoulder, and took up his wrist, guiding his fingers into her mouth. Her own taste was tangy across her tongue, a pleasant flavour representing Nomura’s power over her.

“You’ve always been good with your mouth,” he approved, then murmured a low moan when she placed her palm against the strain of his erection, ghosting her fingers over the barely contained mountain still trapped in his pants.

“And my hands,” Miho declared around his fingers, her touch still so feathery light, and Nomura began to squirm.

So funny, that a man in such an important role, could be made to wriggle like that with just the softest touch.

Taking her time, Miho finally release some of the pressure, then dug her hand into Nomura’s underwear to reveal the impressiveness of his cock.

“I missed this,” Miho sighed, wrapping her hand around him and sliding slowly to the tip.

The anticipation she met there slicked her fingers, allowing her palm to glide effortlessly down the pulse of his veined shaft.

“Not as much as I have,” he breathed, deeply, filling her lungs.

When she began to tilt however, to lean toward his lap, he stopped her.

“No,” he told her firmly. “You really will hurt yourself.”

Miho emitted a soft huff, and increased the speed of her caress, the strength of her grip, occasionally pausing to outline his head with her thumb. And she smiled at the quickening of his breath, the way he lifted off the couch into her hand, and she imagined him thrusting it inside her – stretching, filling, warming her from the inside.

“I want you inside me so much,” she whined.

“When you’re… when… you’re healed,” he grated out through his teeth, his abs tensing against her wrist and she knew he was close.

“And I want to be on my knees,” Miho continued, herself a little breathless again, “looking up into your eyes as I suck your balls into my mouth, as I…”

“Miho…” he croaked, but she didn’t stop.

“… as I slither my tongue, just the pointed tip against the base of your cock, press it flat as I glide it up, then wrap my lips around your head and suck.”

“Fuu…”

He couldn’t form words after that. He lifted himself to meet each downward motion she made until his movements became erratic. Breathy mutterings accompanied the product of his orgasm, spurting messily over his pants, his abdomen and all over Miho’s hand. And she held him until she felt him soften, smiling despite the ache of her upper body thanks to the stain – but it was totally worth it.

“You always make such a beautiful mess,” Miho grinned. “Of both of us.”’

Nomura couldn’t yet respond, his mind still reeling, his body alive with the afterglow of their energetic intimacies.

“Ha… sounds like we need to shower,” he said finally, using his feet to push down his trousers until he could kick them off.

“Sounds like we do,” Miho agreed.

Together they washed, Nomura reaching places Miho couldn’t, careful not to disturb the waterproof dressings that covered her wounds. Neither said anything about them, just content to have hands on one another, to be with one another.

THE END

Thank you to those who helped me along the way! <3

@hifftn @ladystar0710 @nitelotus @belxsar @smutmylifeup @smile-smile-ichthys @mirandaflamel

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

‘Choosing Sides’ Part Twenty-Three - Plaster Dust

Awkwardly, Miho sat, cuffed, under the cold gaze of the one know to her only as Genever.

“Tattoos aside, you don’t look like you belong here,” Miho said carefully, but the woman scowled.

“What the hell would you know?” she snapped.

“I have a decent imagination,” Miho countered. “The mafia? How does a girl like you wind up falling in with the likes of Mr. Oh?”

“A girl like me?” Genever sneered. “A woman like you wouldn’t understand.”

Genever’s eyes then narrowed, and she put herself right in Miho’s face. “Or maybe you do. Most people would be trembling in their shoes with the threat of Mr. Oh looming over them, but look at you, all composed and shit.”

“I’m plenty afraid,” Miho admitted. “But if I’m going to be dead soon, I may as well know who is doing the killing and why.”

“What difference does it make?” Genever snorted, straightening when Miho shifted uncomfortably.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” Miho asked, tilting her head. “Will you be the one he orders to pull the trigger?”

“Shut up,” Genever growled, looking like she might throw a backhand.

Miho was saved that by the ring of Genever’s phone.

The girl’s entire expression changed the moment she saw who the caller was.

“If you move,” she glared viciously, pointing in a threatening way with her phone in her other hand, “you’ll get the answer to your question.”

With a final pointed look, Genever stepped out of the office and closed the door over most of the way.

Sit here and wait to get whacked, or rifle through this office?

“Well if you’re going to die anyway,” she muttered as she got to her feet, though she hadn’t really thought through how she intended to search through Soryu’s things without the use of her hands.

As she attempted to move her body in such a way that would allow her to open a desk draw, the sound of a familiar name caused her to freeze.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘he’s unreachable’, Nomura,” Genever snarled, somewhere in the room beyond.

The second name assured Miho it was her Nomura the woman spoke of.

“Kirisawa assured me I’d always be able to reach him. Where is he?”

“Nomura and Kirisawa?” Miho exhaled, nudging her ear against the door. “Why would a mob thug be called by Nomura about Kirisawa?”

Inhaling a deep breath, she pushed open the door a little further, and saw Genever by the window some ten metres away.

“That’s it, I’m out,” Genever barked, throwing up her free hand. “You guys strong armed me into this but I didn’t agree to get myself killed.”

“Genever,” Miho said clearly, and the other woman turned, white hair fanning out around her as she did, framing the deep scowl knitting her brows. “Let me talk to Nomura.”

“Get the hell back in there, Ohira,” Genever instructed sharply, phone at her side.

“No,” Miho glared back, “because if you’re talking to Nomura Tadanobu about Kirisawa Hiroshi, then I want to talk to him, right now.”

Genever blinked, perplexed, and silence settled until Nomura’s voice called with faint urgency.

“Miho?”

Instantly this caused Genever to end the call and advance on Miho.

“Okay, spill it, everything,” she commanded, stopping only when she stood just shy of touching.

“I’m Public Safety,” Miho announced – no sense really in getting into exactly whether Public Safety did or didn’t consider her under their employ. “Your turn.”

“I said everything,” Genever scowled, but now Miho had something over her, there was a whole lot less to fear.

“Both of us have a lot to lose if Mr. Oh finds out we’re connected to the police, Miss Genever,” she responded, finally finding proper calm again. “Judging by your reaction to hearing my association, I don’t think you’re actually an officer,” she continued. “So what then? Informant?”

Conflict waged a war in Genever’s pale eyes.

“There is something far bigger brewing than whatever it is you’re here for,” Miho added in for consideration. “So, maybe you could remove the cuffs? They’re killing me.”

“Just sit down,” Genever huffed, giving Miho a gentle nudge back, and when Miho’s legs hit the sofa she flopped down uncomfortably with a grimace. “What’s this big thing?”

“Terrorists seeking top secret information that’s currently somewhere in the Tres Spades,” Miho answered, feeling like that’s all she did these days. “I don’t know where, or who has it, hell maybe your boss has it.”

“No, if Mr. Oh had something that big I’d know,” Genever replied shaking her head.

“Which is why you were left here to mind me, while he and the other guy disappear to do something shady.”

“Hey, leave Inui out of this,” Genever snapped, and Miho narrowed her eyes.

“Is he a double agent too?” she asked, and Genever pressed her black painted lips together so hard they very nearly turned white. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Genever grumbled, seeming to have lost her sharp edge. “I can’t uncuff you, or let you go,” she went on. “Mr. Oh will kill me, and then you when he finds you.”

“Then he’ll kill me if he finds out why I’m here,” Miho noted. “Not that I expect you to turn me in. Why is Nomura calling you?”

“Kirisawa is my handler but he’s off doing something and just left me here, bastard,” she answered.

“I know him too, and that doesn’t sound very much like him,” Miho frowned. “Something important must have come up.”

At this Genever snorted.

“More important than the life of some loser.”

“You want out, is that it?” Miho queried. “Wait, do you know something about these terrorists?”

“No! I’ve heard nothing like that. I’m supposed to be looking for drug connections.”

“So what now?”

As if in answer, Genever’s phone rang, and she fumbled to answer it.

“Yes, Boss?”

Soryu.

Tensing, Miho watched as Genever’s eyes settled back on her.

Uh oh.

“Right away,” Genever assured, and then hung up. “We’re going to the Tres Spades.”

“What’s going on?” Miho inhaled, getting to her feet.

Even if she could overpower Genever with her hands cuffed behind her, if she ran, chances were Genever would be punished severely, and knowing she was under Kirisawa’s purview changed everything.

“Didn’t say,” Genever grunted. “But we’re going, so don’t fuss.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Miho sighed, and allowed herself to be directed out of the office.

They talked no more, not in the car ride, not as they crossed the foyer with a jacket looped over Miho’s cuffs, and not as they rode the elevator up.

She hadn’t seen Eisuke since she’d skipped out on him the previous night – that was one concern; the other of course, was what they needed her here for.

“Just, try not to piss them off,” Genever advised quietly at Miho’s back, before escorting her into the penthouse.

“I’m not especially good at that,” Miho muttered mirthlessly, her chest tightening the moment Eisuke came into view.

His eyes fixed on her immediately – an icy bolt impaling her through and through, and though Miho tried not to allow her apprehension to bloom into fear, the graveness in each expression around the room made her blood run cold.

Soryu she knew, Ota Kisaki also, but there was another man now, dishevelled and puffing away on a cigarette.

“Kishi Mamoru,” Genever whispered almost into the back of Miho’s hair so as not to be seen speaking as they walked. “Dirty cop.”

“Perfect,” Miho exhaled, then made a point of making eye contact with Eisuke. “What is going on?” she demanded to know, though her voice shook with an authentic amount of fear. “First I’m abducted off the street and interrogated and now I’m dragged up here? Mr. Ichinomiya wh…”

“Stop talking,” Eisuke said curtly.

I wish Baba was here.

“So you really think she is responsible for this?” Ota mused, looking Miho up and down.

“For what?” Miho scowled helplessly, and poised to preach her innocence when Eisuke roughly took her chin.

“You’ve been digging around from the very beginning, haven’t you, Ohira?” he breathed into her face, bringing back the vivid memory of the taste of his lips. “I should have known after the incident in the foyer you were suspect.”

“Suspect of what?” Miho managed to get out.

Still standing behind her, holding her wrists, Genever gave Miho a slight squeeze – perhaps reassurance?

“Sorry,” Aihara apologised, striding back into the penthouse common room with a laptop on hand, “I wasn’t able to trace it back, but it’s been here since just before your little friend was hired.”

Oh shit.

So close, Eisuke just stared, and stared. From his gaze Miho felt great grappling hooks taking root in her lies, prying them back one by one, even though she said nothing.

“What’s with the urgent message?” Baba complained, wandering casually into the tension without a clue. “Wh… what the hell? Boss?”

As much as she had wished Baba was there, when he did in fact arrive to see her in that situation, Eisuke like he might lunge at her at any moment and bite her face off, it actually had the opposite effect she was looking for.

Her eyes began to burn, and to prevent them from spilling over she closed them tightly.

“Tears definitely won’t be enough,” Eisuke told her, giving her a shove back into Genever.

As the smaller woman steadied Miho on her feet, a booming sound deafened everyone, just a split second before the building roared and shuddered. Plaster dust suddenly choked the air; chunks of ceiling fell down on top of them as they tried to remain on their feet, and across the other side of the large space, Eisuke’s penthouse suite above came crumbling into view along with other large pieces of twisted debris.

Alarms blared, and fire following various items from above through the gaping hole, set off sprinklers that doused them all.

“Everyone out!” Eisuke barked, the first to emerge from the shock of an explosion so close to them. “Stairs.”

“Miho,” Baba gasped, soaked hair sticking to his face.

“What the?” she blinked, not even registering the blood now dripping into her right eye.

“Never a dull moment with you Princess,” he smirked, a ridiculous grin considering the circumstances, but with Genever close with them, they began the evacuation.

It was completely surreal.

Crowds of guests were being directed by Tres Spades staff into the stair wells in order to evacuate safely, but panic was scrawled across their faces too. Distant sirens heralded the arrival of emergency services, and as they finally managed to exit onto the street, Miho was able to look up.

Great plumes of smoke rose into the Tokyo sky from the upper floors of the building. Whatever had happened, it must have been on the roof, for she was certain if an explosion that big had occurred within the penthouse itself, she would have been as dead.

“Come on,” Baba urged, turning her around and making light work of her cuffs, but the moment they took another step, Soryu was there and glaring.

“Don’t even think about making a run for it,” he told Miho sternly, then turned his gaze to his subordinate. “Make sure she stays. Genever.”

“Boss,” Genever nodded, wringing out her long hair.

“You’re bleeding,” Baba whispered, taking a folded handkerchief from his pocket and pressing it against her forehead.

“Terrorists,” Miho murmured, pushing for clarity through shock and peering around the screaming, crying crowd.

If Public Safety had still been watching the Tres Spades, then they must have seen her go back in. So where were they? Did they care she could have been blown to pieces?

Does Kaga care?

“Miss Genever, do you, have your phone?” Miho asked, and Genever frowned at her quizzically. “Please, now is the time to call for help.”

Though she continued to scowl, Genever handed Miho her phone, and Miho dialled without even thinking.

“Genever,” came Nomura’s voice, laced with urgency. “Are you at the Tres Spades?”

“She is,” Miho responded quietly, again finding her voice strangled by emotion. “We made it out, we’re okay.”

“Miho?” he ejected – he sounded breathless, shaky, like he was running.

“Yeah,” she whimpered, gazing up at the building, even as Baba urged them further away. “I need you,” she very nearly sobbed. “I didn’t expect this and now…it’s all gone to shit.”

“Ohira, maybe you shouldn’t?” Genever prompted, concerned Miho would say too much and regret it, but the snap of Nomura’s concerned voice kept Miho tied to him.

“Are you safe?” he rushed, his voice echoing – car park.

“For now,” she nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “But this has to be the work of the terrorists that attacked Prime Minister Hiraizumi’s residence.”

“Terrorists?” Baba repeated, watching her and listening, but Miho didn’t seem to care who heard her at this point.

To her folly.

“And what would you know about terrorists?” Eisuke asked flatly, rounding on her with uncharacteristically open emotion, though Baba put a hand on his chest to keep him from grabbing her.

“Please hurry,” Miho hissed tearily, though she fought to keep from giving in to sobs. “I can’t rely on Public Safety anymore… there was never any backup anyway…”

With the phone still pressed to hear ear, Miho eyed at Eisuke.

“I thought maybe the owner knew something, and to be targeted like this…” she pressed on, but stopped when Eisuke spoke again.

“Public. Safety.”

“Right here,” Kaga announced, and from the masses he emerged, jaw set, eyes harsh fixing on Eisuke.

Miho slumped a little more, and Baba put an arm around her shoulder, dabbing at the cut at her hairline again now that Eisuke’s focus had shifted to Kaga. Goto appeared, followed by Soma, and both took a moment to assess Miho’s state before disappearing as suddenly as they’d arrived.

“Miho?” Nomura’s voice barked, drawing Miho back to the phone.

“Get her to the hospital,” Kaga commanded, looking past Eisuke at Baba. “I will be following up.”

“Sure, come on Princess,” he urged gently, and Miho took hold of Genever’s wrist with her free hand.

“Come,” she very nearly pleaded, though it came from a place much more concerned for the other woman should she remain.

“Boss told me to keep an eye on you,” Genever sniffed, shaking off Miho’s hand and standing tall, and Miho managed a small smile.

“Ohira,” Kaga dropped before they moved too far away. “I will come to check on you.”

Miho nodded.

“I’m going to the hospital,” she told Nomura, allowing Baba to direct her through the crowd.

“Why? Are you injured?”

“Just a little bit of blood,” she muttered, looking down at her top to find it spattered.

“Damnit, another call,” Nomura growled. “I’ll find you.”

Then he was gone.

 For such an explosion there were very few actual casualties, and so Miho was seen to quickly. Baba hovered, and Genever just stood as if guarding.

“You don’t need to be admitted,” the nurse told her kindly, the kind of nurse you generally imagine when you think of hospitals… unless you’re a pervert, “but Deputy Chief Nomura has asked you remain until he arrives.”

For a few seconds, Baba looked a little uncomfortable.

When the nurse left, he drew closer to where Miho still sat on the bed looking a bit dazed.

“How you doing, Princess?” he asked, gently placing his hand on her leg.

“I can’t believe we were nearly blown up,” she replied in a quiet, wry chuckle, blinking to bring him into focus. “And… I’m sorry I kept secrets from you, when you’ve only ever been so sweet to me.”

“Well,” he nodded slowly, his hair half dried in clumpy strands, “it’s not like I didn’t suspect something was up, though Public Safety is way beyond what I might have thought. You on the trail of terrorists? You could at least have had a sexy costume to go with your heroics.”

Miho chortled, and was thankful for his attempts to lighten the mood.

“I’m not really after the terrorists themselves,” she admitted, “just the information they were after. It was going to be sold in the Tres Spades, but I wasn’t able to figure out who had it.”

“Ah,” Baba dropped, and though his eyes gave away nothing, the sound itself was a little suspicious.

“Do you know anything about it?” she asked him plainly. “I don’t want you to have anything to do with this, so much,” she scowled. “The man from whom the information was taken was executed…”

Heaving in a huge breath, Miho peered at Baba honestly.

“When I found out there were all these people living in the penthouse suites off the guest registry, it ran up a red flag,” she admitted.

“So that’s why you were getting close to Eisuke,” he concluded.

“But you were there too, and even though we never shared much other than… the physical, I had to think you were still a good person who wouldn’t be involved in something that could put all of Japan at risk.”

Baba looked down, and Miho swallowed her gasp.

“No way,” she whispered.

“No, no it’s not like that,” he rushed, reassurances written all over his face. “But, if that information is, or, was in the Tres Spades, and the bombing is as a result of that, then I’ll do whatever I can to help you find it. I’ll talk to Eisuke.”

“I don’t even know if that’s my job anymore,” she sniffed in a self-deprecating manner. “I sort of, ignored orders, and blew my cover to hell with Ambassador Hishikura, then got abducted by Mr. Oh and…”

Lost your shit at Kaga.

“Take a breath,” Baba told her, taking her face between his hands. “So you kept some secrets, we all have them. We know each other much better than you seem to think; there’s a lot a guy can tell by the way a woman kisses him.”

Despite herself, Miho blushed, and Baba laughed.

“Really? You’re blushing over that?” he smirked.

It was then they heard Genever speaking with someone just outside the door, and Baba and Miho parted just before Nomura let himself in with Genever at his heels.

He was far more composed now than he had sounded on the phone, but his near complete disregard of Baba and his straight path to Miho made his priorities clear. Regardless of what had transpire between them in the past, he assumed the same affectionate hold of her face as Baba had not moments ago, and stared into her face.

“You’re all right?” he questioned, despite it being a statement, one thumb brushing beneath the line of adhesive strips keeping the thin laceration on her forehead closed.

“I’m sorry I called,” she apologised, but her head reflexively tilted into his touch. “I was upset.”

No, no, don’t do that.

“Of course you should have called,” he frowned, hands gently sliding down her neck and grazing over her shoulders like he was looking for other wounds. “What on Earth did you get yourself caught up in?”

Miho looked past him at Baba, who had remained silent just watching their exchange.

“We’ll just wait outside,” he said, giving Genever a nudge.

“Hey,” she protested. “I want to hear this.”

“Later,” Baba encouraged, and after some quiet grumbles, it was just Miho and Nomura.

“I actually wanted to talk to you about her,” Miho began, “before the whole explosion thing. What’s Kirisawa doing that he’d leave an informant hanging?”

“Important stuff,” Nomura replied vaguely, and Miho gently pried herself away from him and stood, putting a comfortable distance between them.

Not that she didn’t want to be comforted, she did, very much.

“Well, I guess that isn’t my business, but she was obviously concerned enough to call him after Mr. Oh ordered me ‘apprehended’.”

“Right, and how did that come about?”

He gauged her body language, knew enough about her to read her whether she articulated her feelings or not – and he didn’t press, shouldn’t press – stupid man, after all, she had dumped him. And yet, the moment he found out she’d been there when the Tres Spades was attacked he’d flown into a panic almost beyond his control.

Two years was a pretty long time to keep a candle burning for a woman who cut you lose for no apparent reason.

She began from the beginning, telling him everything whether she was supposed to or not.

“… and then there was this massive explosion, and the roof caved in, and we all nearly died,” she finished with sagging shoulders.

“And the guy outside?” he prompted, glancing toward the door.

“Fuck buddy I discovered also has… or had a suite in the penthouse,” she declared bluntly, but she couldn’t look at Nomura as she said it. “Talk about complicated.”

“You’re good at complicated,” he noted, and it was just a little, tiny bit bitter.

“Yeah, no shit,” she muttered, just as the door opened and Kaga filled the frame.

Miho bit her lip, and dropped her chin. For all her anger, she had always known she’d have to face the consequences of her heated actions eventually.

Continue to Part Twenty-Four - You Look Better In It

@hifftn @nitelotus @ladystar0710 @mirandaflamel @smutmylifeup

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

And look at Jazz being all respectable and adorable! Who thought the smut queen could look so innocent? She’s totally going to corrupt Hiroshi; he doesn’t stand a chance.

@hifftn  @nitelotus

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

‘Choosing Sides’ Part Ten - The Train... And The Park... And The Office... *NSFW*

He gave her every opportunity to provide an objection, the approach of his face steady but slow, his intention absolutely unmistakable.

“Nomura wait,” she gasped, eyes springing open from their lidded state, and hand moving to his chest, and he stalled. “I… have no desire to become another in your… illustrious history of one-night stands.”

“Hmm,” he thought aloud, staring cheekily into her eyes at point blank range. “But the real question is, do you have desire?”

Without even realising it, Miho had been holding her breath while he spoke, and her answer came out as a winded gasp.

“Yes,” she admitted, wanting to both hide from embarrassment, but also meet him head on.

At this Nomura beamed, and slid his hands along the porcelain surface before turning them lightly against the curves of her buttocks.

“Then I suppose we’ll have to do it again tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.”

She took that as a confession of more than just flash in the pan lust - that after all the flirty, sex-laced sideways glances they’d shared since she had started working with the MPD, she wouldn’t end up just another statistic… even if that was only wishful thinking.

In the heat of the moment, she declared it was a problem for her future self.

This time, Miho actively met Nomura’s advance, draping her arms around his neck as he inflicted the unrestrained measure of his yearning upon her lips. Beautifully manicured fingernails sifted through the sandy brown of his curls, as his dexterous hands gathered her skirt all the way up to her waist.

“Gah… right here?” she panted the moment he allowed her to surface for air.

“Don’t tell me to wait any longer,” he rasped, pressing his fingers solidly between her legs, for only a few strokes fighting against the barrier of her underwear before he groped beneath the flimsy material and burrowed deep.

Even in the fiery daze of heightened sexual awareness, Miho had the presence of mind to muffle her lungful of husky pleasure into Nomura’s shoulder, but it made him laugh.

“You’re going to deny me the sound of you singing my song?” he growled, his free hand seizing her wrist, just as she had his, and fleetingly he held it against the front of his pants.

Fleeting because she didn’t need to be told twice.

“I just… I just…” she swallowed, getting his zipper down, slithering digits seeking the firming softness of his shaft. “Oh… Jesus…” she whined, dropping her forehead against him as he pinched the growing inflammation of her clit, and massaged the palm of his hand against her with increasing necessity.

“Not Jesus,” he corrected, biting down on his tongue a few seconds while her thumb swirled maddeningly soft circles around the very tip of his cock. “Tadanobu.”

Miho filled her lungs before tilting back her head to peer up at him through bleary eyes.

“I suppose you want me to moan your name?” she grinned, licking her lips.

“Do it,” he goaded inching several fingers into her infuriatingly moist entrance, remaining poised, moving no further despite the way she squirmed and tried to push her hips forward.

Having heard of, but not actually witnessed himself, the dramatic accident that saw Miho drench Nomura in expensive red wine, Kirisawa frowned at not being able to find either. Rubbing the back of his neck, really just wanting to let Nomura know he was bailing, he left the bar and wandered down the corridor to check the gents, when he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Tadanobu,” came a breathless voice, strained, begging, desperate, but it wasn’t until the familiar voice came again with greater volume and excitement, that Kirisawa looked nervously around to see if there was anyone else within earshot.

“That guy,” he muttered, his cheeks burning as he backed away, and left the event without saying his goodbyes.

Miho was rewarded for her obedience by the inward press and curl of Nomura’s fingers, long, determined fingers vehemently seeking out her most sensitive spot.

“Miho,” he groaned, the repetitious slide of her grip around him, driving an enraging tension deep within.

It knotted in his stomach, ignited the full force of his tinder-dry want for her, and there was absolutely no coming back from it.

He allowed her just the briefest period to catch her breath, swaying precariously on the edge of the sink, as he struggled out of the rest of his clothing.

And she giggled.                                                        

“Laughing at me? That hurts,” he pouted, a face Miho could only have described as adorable.

“I’ll make it better,” she told him in a deliberate, sultry tone as she shimmied her skirt away, and plucked with painful slowness at her blouse buttons.

One. By. One.

Suffering as he watched, fighting the potent urge to just rip what remained of her clothing from her body, Nomura took himself in hand – he wanted there to be nothing to stop him from sinking so far within her, everyone in the bar beyond would hear her scream his name.

“Now you’re just being mean,” he growled when she dropped the strap of her bra off her shoulder, then snapped it back into place.

“Just a little bit,” she admitted with a smirk, before discarding the last of her attire besides her heels; those she left on.

Their sharp click on the floor sounded loudly between uneven breaths as she approached, and slid against the smooth tiles as she prepared to lower herself to her knees.

“No,” he objected curtly, catching her under the arm and spinning her around, pushing her up against the pillar dividing each of the toilet stalls.

“No?” she queried, eyebrow raised, but she didn’t fight when he took one wrist, and then the other, and folded her arms above her.

“If you’re all the way down there,” he began, his free hand sliding beneath her left thigh and lifting it to a height that wouldn’t cause her any discomfort, “I can’t see the face you’re about to make.”

“So fuckin’ cocky,” she laughed, but winced in frustration when he did little more than position the practically quivering head of his rigid arousal for penetration, just… nudging. “Ugh, now who’s being mean?” she whimpered, attempting to lower herself into him, but he held her firmly upright with just the strength of one arm.

“Fair is fair,” he chided wickedly, enjoying the little role-reversal, but then his breath hitched.

Her eyes had grown impossibly wide; they wavered with moisture reflecting the cruelty of his hesitation, and her lower lip shuddered the rhythm of a most terrible denial.

“Oh… oh,” he hissed dejectedly against her lips. “That… There’s teasing, and then there’s playing dirty.”

“Then quit playing,” she groaned through teeth preventing his tongue from punishing her for such cruel tactics. “Do it already, and then look.”

“You’re right,” he admitted, edging back just a little, just a fraction. “I’ve waited long enough for this.”

His powerful upward thrust completely dissolved the playful contempt Miho had cultivated, and the follow-through saw her eyes roll.

Their banter was lost to the unintelligible mutterings of two people determined to ensure the other got exactly what they were craving. Miho completely abandoned all thoughts of her just being another notch on Nomura’s proverbial bedpost, and indulged in the idea she could mean more to him than a cheap, public thrill.

Though she wanted to throw her head back, the curl of her spine attempting to drive him ever deeper, the intense earnestness of Nomura’s expression kept her utterly transfixed. Even as he released her wrists in order to obtain a more powerful and balanced grip on her hips, reclining, and slamming her back against the pillar, he stared at her as if making a point that he saw her.

With frightening swiftness, Miho felt herself losing the battle to keep her voice down.

“Bury… yourself…” she whined, broken words, heady and hoarse. “Gah… Tadanobu don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t… don’t…”

All sense fled, all lucid thought, all ability to form coherent words, as Nomura drilled her right to the very edge, then shoved her over. He exulted in the unavoidable close of her eyes, and the wide open gape of her mouth caught wanting to shriek at the height of pleasure, but finding no air to produce the sound. Every muscle in her body contracted, including and most importantly those within that squeezed even tighter around his cock.

When she finally inhaled, Nomura could see the unfocused high in the narrow open of her slightly open eyes.

“Guess we’ll have to save the screaming… for later,” he panted, pulling her to him before forcing her flat against the bathroom door, arms remaining wrapped around her securely like he meant never to let her go.

“Your place or mine?” she moaned, fingers laced at the back of his head, kissing him briefly before gasping over and over into the crook of his neck.

“Both,” he responded, but the word came out like a strained grunt. “And the train…”

Thrust.

“… and the park…”

Plunge.

“… and the office…”

Skewer.

“… and the… Mmm… Miho… ah…”

Perhaps two responsible adults should have known better, but there was nothing that could have stopped Nomura from filling Miho to the point of overflow; not even a gun against his temple could have made him cease those last, forceful motions that gushed his load inside her.

With weak knees he stumbled far enough to rest Miho’s ass down on one of the sinks, but there they remained all flushed and wet with sweat, fighting for air but happily floating in the wake of orgasmic gratification.

“And the office huh?” she chuckled, peppering his shoulder with kisses as she continued to cling.

“Anywhere you want me,” he promised, and she truly believed him.

“Hey,” came an insistent intruder to her vivid memory, and Miho blinked back to the present.

Nomura was studying her face and scratching the well-defined shape of his beard, far too close for comfort given what she’d just been thinking.

“You do know the guy who just walked away makes my salary look like a complete joke,” he told her, but frowned at the colour of her face. “You drink too much?”

“No, no,” she rushed after swallowing the sizeable lump in her throat, and put a little more distance between them. “Oh… where did Kirisawa go?”

It wasn’t a very grown man thing to do, but Nomura couldn’t help but indulge in a small sigh.

“He left fifteen minutes ago with Jazz, lucky bastard,” he answered, indicating the path the two had taken across the floor to the exit. “Walked right in front of you – sure you’re not drunk?”

“Just tired I guess,” she managed, scrambling to cover up the truth of her daydream and how unsteady on her feet it made her feel. “Saw a lot of ahh… nasty stuff today, translating. Um, I should get going, I still have stuff to do for Kirisawa’s case tomorrow.”

Pushing away from the bar, Miho turned herself toward the exit Nomura had just pointed at.

“Hey,” he called, and though she stopped she didn’t want to look back - didn’t want to risk superimposing the raw and impassioned image of his naked body over the suit he actually wore. “I’ll submit a glowing recommendation tomorrow morning.”

At that she had to turn around, biting her lip until she could look him in the face.

“You don’t have to do that,” she smiled, but the sincerity of his expression suddenly made her want to cry.

God, don’t look at me like that.

“I said I would, so I will,” he declared with a little shrug. “Get home safely.”

“Thanks, I will,” she nodded, then made good her escape before he could see the cracks in her façade.

Continue to Part Eleven - What You Wished For

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

‘Choosing Sides’ Part Nine - Mixer Number Four

@hifftn makes a special cameo appearance ;p

Miho didn’t mess around when she arrived at MPD. She signed in and made her way swiftly, and with familiarity through the corridors until she and Chiba were in the right area.

She smiled at a few members of 1st Unit who looked at her with faint interest, but their expressions quickly turned to disdain when her real destination became clear.

The strong smell of coffee met the pair, along with Kirisawa who immediately rose from his seat and beamed at Miho.

“That was fast,” he grinned, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him.

Of all the men she had met working in consultation with the MPD, there was no one nicer than Lieutenant Kirisawa Hiroshi.

“Who’s your friend?”

Of course Chiba was still in his uniform, so at least it was clear where he’d come from.

“Chiba Daisuke, meet Lieutenant Kirisawa, the driving force behind 2nd Unit’s exemplary record,” Miho said, introducing the pair, and Chiba snapped a sharp salute.

“Cadet Chiba,” Kirisawa nodded, but then looked back to Miho with a serious glint in his eyes.

Now he was all about business.

“The perp is a real monster, and I hate having to give this to you, but it looks like he kept a journal of his attacks,” Kirisawa explained, handing her a thick file. “Pictures, thoughts, plans, reflections – all in English, and all in chicken scratch.”

It was then Miho realised something as she glanced around the room.

“No Hanai or Eiki?”                                      

“In the US doing some cross-continent collegiate collaboration,” Kirisawa replied.

“Then I suppose it’ll have to be me then,” Miho stated, taking the file.

“Righto, well I reserved conference room 2B for you,” Kirisawa directed, motioning with his hand, but when Miho turned, she didn’t step forward.

Though she didn’t see, Kirisawa cringed at her back.

“Monopolising Miho’s time again, Hiroshi?,” Nomura questioned, grinning confidently for all the world like things were peachy.

“Deputy Chief,” Miho acknowledged with a shallow nod, and suddenly Nomura looked dramatically wounded.

“Ouch,” he muttered, clutching one hand to his chest. “Just a title?”

“Deputy Chief?” Chiba echoed, surprised and totally separate from the conversation despite standing at Miho’s side.

“What do you want Nomura?” Kirisawa dropped with usual harshness, glaring at Nomura over Miho’s shoulder.

“A matter of pressing importance,” he declared, but his expression didn’t reflect the statement. “I need one or two more girls for…”

“I am not going to another of your single’s mixers,” Miho denied flat out, but her tone was not acerbic – in fact, to Kirisawa’s ears at least, she sounded a little guilty.

“Another?” Chiba repeated with growing bemusement.

“It wouldn’t be a freebie,” Nomura insisted, moving toward her with slow, casual steps, hands dug into his pants pockets. “A little birdy told me you could probably use some quality endorsements.”

For few seconds Miho closed her eyes and exhaled a slow breath, and when she opened them, Nomura filled her field of vision.

“Imagining something lewd?” he smirked, brimming with bravado she saw right through.

“I… didn’t think it was right to ask you, all things considered,” she admitted, her voice much lower and quieter than before. “And I don’t think it’s right for you to trade me something that could hurt your reputation.”

“Do you plan on making a mess of things?” he asked, still beaming like she hadn’t made herself his enemy.

Again.

Miho heard the word again though Nomura hadn’t uttered it.

“Of course not,” Miho frowned, a little defensive.

“Then come to the mixer and reap the rewards,” he instructed with an untroubled shrug, then peered around her to Kirisawa. “See you there.”

“What?” Kirisawa blinked, shaking his head. “No you won’t, I ain’t going.”

“Aww come on, you promised!” Nomura exclaimed.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, poor Chiba watched the interaction completely lost.

“The hell I did!” Kirisawa retaliated, and Miho took the opportunity to skirt around Nomura and head toward the door, giving Chiba’s sleeve a tug as she did.

“Come on, we have work to do,” she hissed.

“Yes Ma’am,” Chiba affirmed agreeably, keen to remove himself from the strange three-way.

“Hey Miho,” Nomura called, and with grit teeth and tight jaw, she looked back. “7pm tonight, the usual place. Dress cute.”

Usual place.

How many usual places did she have exactly?

“Fine,” she sighed. “But only if Kirisawa goes.”

“What’s Hiroshi got that I don’t?” Nomura pouted, and this time, the unspoken edge in his gaze reached its mark.

“I’ll be there,” she said quickly, and made her retreat into the corridor.

“You’re not seriously checking out her ass are you?” Nomura’s voice trailed them out, but Kirisawa’s denial – if there had been one – was inaudible.

“I’ve never been to a single’s night,” Chiba said slowly as he followed closely behind Miho.

“Well, the Deputy Chief is always looking for volunteers, so if you’re interested you should ask him,” she responded – detached, frowning and staring ahead but not really focusing on anything.

“I couldn’t do that!” Chiba coughed. “I mean, he’s the youngest deputy chief in the history of MPD right? I’ve heard he graduated a year early and still got accepted, even though applications that year were more than any other time.”

Chiba talked, but Miho didn’t really hear him. She walked, mechanically, muscle memory taking her to the correct conference room, and there she spread out the materials of the file Kirisawa had given her.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, frightfully awoken by the graphic nature of the images she saw. “Kirisawa wasn’t kidding.”

“Is this…” Chiba began, his eyes crinkled with open distress.

“Yeah,” Miho agreed, wanting to look away, but transfixed by the horror.

Each page was a colour copy of part of the suspect’s journal, a catalogue of malicious intent and follow through, of abuse and violence, degradation and humiliation. It made Miho’s stomach turn – it was certainly the worst she had ever seen in her time consulting with the MPD – but she had a job to do.

“Okay well, let’s get started,” she directed. “I’ll take the back half, you take the front. We’re here to translate only, not dig around for clues, so just transcribe. Anything you get stuck on, just ask.”

With a strong nod, Chiba sat and affixed a studious expression on his face, and Miho did the same.

There was so much anger on those pages, so much brutality, that she just knew she’d be haunted by it all for some time. In an attempt to block it all out, to remove herself from the cold and slimy touch of this hideous manifesto, she tried her best to switch off all emotion. She floated above herself and all the nasty content of that file, and scrawled with her pen almost unconsciously.

“Instructor,” Chiba prompted after they had worked in silence for some time. “I, I don’t think I can read this word here.”

Dropping her pen, Miho rose and stretched, before looking down at the messy scribble Chiba was pointing to.

“Cunt,” she read out in English, but it didn’t seem to register with her young counterpart.

When she provided the equivalent in Japanese, completely unembarrassed, Chiba’s eyes stretched open to their limit, and his face glowed so brightly Miho could almost feel the heat radiating from it.

“A pretty unpleasant word,” she nodded, glancing over the rest of the derogatory sentence. “Small men like to use it against women because they think that what society considers such a sharp an ugly word can actually inflict harm; a coward’s attempt to compensate for gross inadequacies.”

“Wow,” Chiba murmured. “That was like… some kind of profiling dictionary or something.”

This broke the tension, and Miho laughed.

“I know what I said before, but it’s hard isn’t it, to not get emotionally involved with stuff like this?”

“Right,” he agreed, then squirmed a little in his seat, suddenly more self-conscious than when Miho had so plainly blurted out one of the most universally taboo words. “So ahh… are you going to go to that mixer then?”

It was such a segue it caught Miho off guard.

“I mean, if you don’t mind me asking, it’s not my business but… what is it you need the Deputy Chief’s endorsement for?”

“I don’t need his endorsement,” she said a little too quickly, oversensitively, and Chiba didn’t fail to notice. “Uh, I’ll go, but I’m not interested in that kind of thing.”

“Because you already… I mean of course you do,” Chiba bumbled, and despite the disjointed nature of his stammering, Miho knew what he was asking.

Namba had warned her.

“You’re my aide, Chiba, so I’ll tell you I don’t have a partner,” she revealed plainly, keeping her expression mild. “And no amount of mixers I’ve been to, or will be dragged into in the future, is likely to change the fact I’m not interested.”

Crisis averted.

Chiba attempted to conceal how crestfallen he was, but made no further inquiry into Miho’s personal life. They continued to work through the horror until all but a few pages were translated.

“I’m going to need to see the originals for these ones,” she declared as she rolled her shoulders and glanced at her watch. “Shit, how the hell did it get to six already?”

“That explains my stomach,” Chiba chuckled reservedly. “We must have really been in the zone to skip lunch like that.”

“Okay that is definitely enough for today,” Miho decided. “Head back to the dorms.”

“Will you be all right getting home, Instructor?” Chiba asked a little shyly.

Nice kid; shame he’s so young.

“Thanks for the concern Chiba,” she smiled kindly, though she did wonder if that was only encouraging him. “But I’ll take a cab; I really have no time to spare.”

With a little more encouragement, Miho convinced Chiba to leave without her, and she gathered up all the files and slid them into her bag. Groaning to herself, she navigated her way out of the MPD building, flagged a taxi and made it home in record time, but even rushing through the beautifying process, she still arrived at the location of Nomura’s mixer late.

“Here we go again,” she sighed, adjusting her pencil skirt slightly before walking in.

More than a few inside stopped their discussion to look at where she loitered just inside the doorway, but Miho’s gaze washed over them until she found Kirisawa sitting in one corner.

He had a vice-like grip on his beer and a complicated expression that Miho found simply adorable.

“Hanging on for dear life?” she smirked, sliding into the seat opposite him.

Kirisawa didn’t answer, but tipped his chin at her, looking a little relieved.

“You came,” he noted – duh. “Didn’t think you would. Guess you really want that endorsement, huh?”

“Okay that was a little hurtful, Kirisawa,” she frowned, but wasn’t all that serious. “I told him I’d show, so I’m here, and yes, probably no small part due to guilt,” she huffed in continuation, but leaned down to her bag and retrieved the file. “However, I really came to give you today’s translation.”

“Already?” he blinked, taking the A4 envelope and placing it beside him out of sight.

“Chiba and I got on a roll,” she shrugged, “but there are a few parts I couldn’t quite make out in the scans, so I’ll have to come back to look over the originals.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Kirisawa nodded. “Thanks. Looks like you and your aide make a great team.”

“Don’t you go there too,” she muttered in exasperation.

“Seriously,” Nomura broke in, coming to stand behind Miho’s chair. “If you two just squirrel yourselves away together over here, it defeats the purpose of being at a mixer.”

“I’m okay with that,” Kirisawa pointed out, saluting with his beer before taking a big swallow, and Miho laughed.

“But I’ve just been big-noting you to Jazz from Archives,” Nomura enthused, “and she is dying to meet you.”

“I definitely need beer,” Miho admitted getting to her feet, forcing Nomura to take a shuffling step back. “Possibly whiskey too, lots of it, to wash off the filth of that journal.”

Without even looking at Nomura she headed to the bar, and before she had even reached it, a pretty woman Miho half recognised from MPD – the aforementioned ‘Jazz’ - had taken her seat and was eagerly introducing herself to Kirisawa.

Wryly Miho chuckled as she ordered her beer, but her mirth was short lived as she too was cornered by a couple of men who introduced themselves as Yoneda Toshitsugu and Takei Izumo, a lawyer and doctor respectively.

Having promised to attend, Miho made an effort to be pleasant and engage in meaningless social banter, but as the night drew on, she felt a familiar weariness settling into her bones.

“Hey, that’s my only tie,” Kirisawa grumbled, as the woman from earlier gave it a tug and he was jerked forward a little.

Clearly they had had a skin-full, the pair tottering unsteadily as they walked, but despite Kirisawa’s protest, he was grinning like a drunken idiot and enjoying the most agreeable sight preceding him.

He’s a big boy, let him enjoy and regret.

That’s when Miho caught Nomura’s gaze.

“Miss Fujiwara?” a surprisingly charming civil engineer urged, trying to draw her attention back to him, but Miho’s response trailed off.

“No, no thank you,” she murmured.

You left him.

And yet, heat began to rise in her face as Nomura’s stare dragged her back into a memory.

Mixer number four…

Miho didn’t know why she kept allowing Nomura to suck her into attending his little shindigs – actually, if she was truthful with herself, she knew exactly why. But the Deputy Chief was what he was, a man in a playboy costume, masking the seriousness of his outlook on life with the demeanour of a man who was serious about nothing.

It didn’t take a genius to see it, and yet it seemed like most were oblivious. Getting involved with a man like that was trouble, and Miho was sure she didn’t have the time, effort, or right to change him into something more wholesome.

Yet, there she was, fourth time around playing nice with a bunch of men looking for wife material – because he’d asked her to.

“If you scowl like that, you’ll scare them all away,” he smirked, sidling up to where she sat on a stool, and leaned back against the bar.

“You know, my father used to say that to me,” she laughed, tucking a long strand of hair back over her ear.

“Tell me you’re not saying I remind you of your father,” he begged, exaggerated in his revulsion. “Because it wouldn’t do for father to be having thoughts like I’m having, about his own daughter.”

Miho had just taken a sip from her glass of wine, and was unable to keep from spitting a fine spray of shiraz all down Nomura’s front.

For a few seconds they just stared at each other, frozen – Miho in dismay and complete mortification, and Nomura in disbelief.

“I am so, sorry!” she exclaimed, grabbing a few napkins from the bar and beginning to pat at his chest like that could win out over the staying power of red wine stains.

“That has got to be the least sexy response I’ve ever received,” he announced, still a little dazed by her reaction.

“I… you…” she stuttered, fumbling for some kind of explanation or excuse that could exonerate her. “You definitely caught me off guard,” she managed finally. “Oh, you need to soak that in cold water right away or that shirt is a lost cause.”

“Eh,” he shrugged, readopting his usual superficial countenance, “I have others.”

“No really,” she insisted, taking his wrist and dragging him toward the restrooms.

Shaking his head in amusement, and shrugging at the eyes that followed them, he allowed her to lead him to the female toilets, where she paused to peek inside.

“Okay, it’s all clear,” she exhaled, a little breathless, before pulling him in. “Take it off.”

“Did you just…” he half queried, though he knew what he’d heard.

“You want to save the shirt or not?” she scowled, now, it seemed, more concerned about the shirt itself, rather than his reaction to it being ruined.

Assertive.

“Since you requested so nicely,” he responded, shrugging out of his jacket before beginning to unbutton the suffering vestment.

The moment it was stripped from his body, Miho plunged it into the sink full of cold water she had prepared, and began swishing it abut furiously.

So focused on her task was she, that she didn’t even notice Nomura closing in behind her in the mirror’s reflection, and only looked up when he had leaned against her back and placed both hands on the sink either side of her.

“If you wanted to get me out of my clothes,” he grinned into her hair, “you could have just asked.”

“Ahh, Nomura?” Miho exhaled slowly. “What are you?”

What a stupid thing to ask – you know exactly what he’s doing. Pay attention!

The feather-light touch of his lips against the top of her shoulder as he pulled aside her collar, sent an unexpected shiver down her spine, much to Nomura’s delight.

“So there is cute under all that audacity,” he breathed against her skin, before gliding his tongue up her throat to just behind her left ear.

“Audacity?” she chortled, wriggling around to face him – but he didn’t retreat, gave her no more room, and did not lift the arms that trapped her against the sink. “You’re hardly one to talk.”

“So, let’s not talk.”

Continue to Part Ten - The Train... And The Park... And The Office... *NSFW*

[somewhatunconscious]

New chapter Update!

[reinasescape]

To Be Continued (Masashi Himuro)

Summary: Marriage is a wonderful chapter of life, but when something unexpectedly happens to the leading lady, what does the male protagonist do? Masashi never expected to find marriage a part of his story, but ever since she found her way into his life, he couldn’t see him life without it. She’s been gone for nearly 7 years now. Can he bear to close the book and say that their story’s done? As a medical examiner, he isn’t new to death, but when it’s her name on the death certificate, can he put his pen to the paper?

Genre: Family / Drama

Part 13: Our Past, Your Future

For other parts: Masterpost

There was praying, crying, and shouting. Her family expression the cacophony of emotions that he first felt when he laid eyes on her. Masashi stood holding his son’s hand, watching in the doorway, as his in-laws swarmed his wife. “Daddy, why is everyone crying?” “Everyone loves and misses Mommy. It’s been a long time since she’s been home.” Kouhei let go of his hand, choosing instead to hide behind his leg. “Hey,”- Masashi knelt down to meet his son at eye level. “It’s okay. Everyone will love you too. Let’s go give Mommy a break.” Lifting Kouhei onto his hip, he joined his in-laws. Placing his free hand on her waist, he almost chuckled when she looked up at him. That look was so _________ as she begged him with her eyes to rescue her. His poor wife must be so overwhelmed, and he was not the type of man to ignore his wife’s pleas.

“Why don’t we get out of the doorway. The neighbors will get curious soon,” Masashi said kindly. “Oh!” Her mother was the first to notice. The seven of them were still crammed awkwardly in the foyer. It was almost comical at how everyone had tried to hug her all at once. Her mother hastily wiped her tears with the back of her hand as she gave them a watery smile. “Look at us, climbing all over you the moment you get here. You must be hungry. I’ll go heat up lunch. Dai, go get your sister a snack. Honey, stop covering your face. Look at your daughter! Grandma, we’ll all pray together later! Sit down and rest that hip.” Her mother’s voice lacked Several pairs of feet disappeared to obey orders, leaving behind her father who was still scrubbing his tears away. “Masashi you brought our baby home.” Between his tears, her father clapped him on the shoulder. “We can’t thank you enough. About last time--” Masashi shook his head to stop his father-in-law. “Water under the bridge Dad.” “Right. Good man. Now let me get a look at you.” Her father took her face in his hands, tear filled eyes taking in every feature as if he was trying to sear the image into his mind. “You’re really home,” voice cracking, he crushed his child to his chest. When he finally pulled away, he held her at arm’s length, taking a good look at her again. “Come in, your mother made all your favorites as soon as Masashi called. Ah, who’s this?” he asked, finally noticing the child on Masashi’s hip. “This is our son, Kouhei. Kouhei will you say hi to Grandpa?” Masashi encouraged, bouncing his boy in an effort to get him to look at his grandfather. “Hi,” their five year old mumbled into Masashi’s shirt. “Sorry, he’s feeling shy,” _________ stepped in, and Kouhei gladly reached for his mother. “Ah, sorry about that. We’re quite the noisy lot. Must’ve scared him,” her father scratched his head laughing. “We’ll let’s get you all fed. Your mother won’t be happy unless all plates are clean.”

--

After seven long years, the _________  family sat complete in their home: grandmother, parents, and children, and the children of those children. Their loss wasn’t a figment of someone’s imagination. It was physical. The loss ravaging their home, like a reaper. The lines on her parents faces were deeper. Her grandmother’s health weaker. For their remaining child, the loss was like a plastic bag over his face, suffocating.

Daisuke, too had loved his older sister, and he helplessly watched their parents fall apart with each day. Their mother stopped laughing, their father taking to bed days at a time, and he tried to hold it all together with snapping threads. Hope was a delicate thing. He, like Masashi, had stood on the side of that road where his sister disappear. For hours at end, he stopped driver after driver, passing out flyers, asking if they had been there that day, looking for that spark of hope. But each ‘no’ felt more crushing. The words stomping on his very spirit. Cracking him, breaking him. For years, his life revolved around keeping his family together. While his classmates had reached for the stars, finding their dream jobs, he had chosen to find local employment. And when they celebrated their university graduation, he was digging his father out of an alcoholic stupor. Countless endless yelling matches to keep his father from drinking himself into an early grave. “Who will look for Sis if you don’t!” “Dai she’s gone! Your sister’s dead! She’s not coming back! At least let me keep her company! She’s lonely. She’s crying! My baby needs me!” “What about Mom? You’re just going to leave her like that?!” “I failed her anyway! No parent is supposed to bury their child!” “Stop talking like Sis is dead!” “She’s gone! And you need to accept it!” “She’s out there! Masashi still believes she’s alive!” “That man let your sister die alone!” “You are not going to find Sis at the bottom of a bottle! Is this how you want her to see you?!” “She can’t! She can’t! She can’t see us anymore,” their father wailed, dissolving into body wrenching sobs.

It seemed like no amount of rhyme or reason would stop their father from blacking out night after night. When did another visit to the police box or the hospital become normal? When would alcohol poisoning finally end it?

It took their mother’s attempted suicide. Their father quit drinking altogether, trying to hold it together to see beyond his own grief to his family. It wasn’t easy nor was it quick, but it was necessary.

Then it was the two of them, standing on the side of that road rain or shine, hoping for this day to come. Today was the day Daisuke thought his family would never see. It didn’t matter that his sister didn’t remember them. It didn’t matter that it took seven years. The only thing that mattered to their family is that she was here. Alive and well, sitting with their mother and grandmother as they tearfully looked over photo albums. Their father sitting on the floor with his nephew as they tried to play a game together on a table. A warm hand in his stopped him brought him out from his thoughts. “You’re crying,” a soft feminine voice said. Daisuke hastily dashed them away with the back of his hand. “Your nose is red too.” Daisuke smile as he took the proffered tissue. “Thanks.” “It’s nice to see your parents smile like that.”’ “Yea.” Daisuke squeezed her hand, running his thumb over her wedding band. And she was his miracle.

----

Night fell like any other day despite the miracle that one family experienced earlier.

Back at the Himuro apartment, all the lights were out except for a single lamp and the hallway night light. Their son was fast asleep across the hall, Between his recent surgery and all of today’s excitement, Kouhei’s eyes were closed before his head hit the pillow. His wife on the other hand was strung as tight as a bowstring in his arms. Her face buried in his chest as they laid in bed. “Are you alright?” Masashi asked as he ran his hands up and down her back.

By the time they came back from a very late lunch, all of Kouhei’s furniture had been waiting for them. The painters had come and gone, and so with some hired help, their little family went about setting up Kouhei’s room. The nursery that once was the manifestation of his guilt was now proof of their perseverance. But with Kouhei there, they say more about the elephant in the room.

It had been a lot for her to take in, and she had done wonderfully. His in-laws happier than he’s seen them in years. He had been so ecstatic to have her back in his arms that he didn’t consider her feelings. He couldn’t be prouder of her, but it didn’t replace the lost lifetime.

When he pulled away to get a better look of her face, his chest tighten. All the unsaid words that were etched in her furrowed brow. With gentle hands, he brushed against the lines on her face, hoping for the muscles to relax. The look in her eye broke his heart. He would move heaven and earth to make it go away. But if it was his fault… Masashi’s thoughts started to drift before he caught himself.

“I’m here for you,” he said instead. “No matter what.” He smiled for her. The small hands that were clenched at his shirt slowly released. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” “Why -” he stopped when the first tear drop fell. “_________…” his voice was painfully soft when he said her name as he braced himself for what was to come. “I’m happy here.” Relief flooded him at her words. The breath he held came out in a whoosh. “Kouhei’s so happy. He already loves you.” “That’s a good thing,” he smiled weakly as he brushed her tears away. “No you don’t understand.” She pushed against his chest, pulling herself out of his arms. It took every ounce of self control he had as he fought to keep from taking her back. She needed her space.

“I’m listening,” he said his voice patient. “This life, you, that family. That’s not me. I’m not your wife.” “_________…” The knot in his throat kept him from screaming out his denial. “I’m an imposter. None of this is me.” “That’s not true,” he refuted without hesitation. “You’re overwhelmed. I understand that.” “No you don’t Masashi. Your wife. She was a cop. She had a family who loved her. She brought criminals to justice. She built a life with you. Me?  I’m just a single mom trying to make things work.” “You’re not “just” anything. If you don’t want to be a cop, that’s fine. There’s nothing that says you have to be a cop.” “No you don’t understand,” she said vehemently, pushing away his hands. “I’m not her. I don’t know what she liked, what she did, how you met. None of that’s there.” “That doesn’t matter to me.” “It matters to me! This isn’t my life.” “_________ don’t do this.” He grabbed her shoulders. “Calm down.” “Let me go! I’m not your wife.” “Even if you weren’t my wife, I’d still feel the same.” He couldn’t help but remember the divorce papers that still sat in his desk.

“Look at me,” he shook her a little, waiting for her eyes to focus again. He gaze held her as he willed her to pay attention.

“You are you. This is your kindness and your strength.” He paused. Masashi was not a man of many words, but he would give her as many as she needed. He would make his wife feel safe again.

“The way you are with our son,” he continued. “It means everything. Everything else is window dressing. We can make more memories. And if you decide you want to know about our past, I’ll tell you. If you don’t want it, then we can forget it, but I want us. I need you.” His roughed fingertips caressed her face.

“Be honest. What do you want?” “Masashi…” She reached out for him, and he didn’t hesitate. “But the crying is quite troubling,” he admitted. He was rewarded with a watery laugh. “You were the one that told me I didn’t need to be strong.” “That’s what I said.” She only laughed again, and Masashi smiled. The storm had passed.

He held her until the tears subsided. By the time they did, both of them were wide awake. She curled up against him, her head pillowed on his arm. Idly, his other hand toyed with the ends of her hair. “What about my family?” “I’ll go with you to explain. We’ll take care of it together.” “Kouhei’s not done with school yet.” “That’s not a problem. I can wait,” he said matter-of-factly. He had waited 7 years. What was a couple more months? “_________, tell me what is really worrying you.” “I’m scared. Everything’s happening so fast. My life is turning upside down.” “I’ll support you, no matter what you decide.”

“Crying again?” he blinked at her, slightly bewildered. “Yea that seems to keep happening tonight,” she smiled weakly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Leaning over, he gently kissed the tears away, one by one. Bitterness mixing with the sweet as he worked his way up her face before pressing a kiss to each eyelid. “_________,” her name soft on his lips. “Masashi.” When she gasped his name, her eyes half lidded, he didn’t think twice. The taste of her tears lingered in their chaste kiss, but when she parted her lips for him, he deepen it, pressing her into the bed. “I love you. Always you. Only you.”

Author’s Note: We are near the end of our time together with this couple. In the next and finale installment, we’ll be revisiting the Sato family again. I’d love to hear how you feel about them, and hope you’re excited to see the fate of our loving couple. Are you sad to see their story come to an end?

“To Be Continued” has been updating like a monthly serial, but you guys have been so wonderful to support me for so long. If Part 13 can collect 20 comments, I will post the finale then rather than at the end of April. 

Hope to see you very soon!

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Commission Info

[reinasescape]

To Be Continued (Masashi Himuro)

Summary: Marriage is a wonderful chapter of life, but when something unexpectedly happens to the leading lady, what does the male protagonist do? Masashi never expected to find marriage a part of his story, but ever since she found her way into his life, he couldn’t see him life without it. She’s been gone for nearly 7 years now. Can he bear to close the book and say that their story’s done? As a medical examiner, he isn’t new to death, but when it’s her name on the death certificate, can he put his pen to the paper?

Genre: Family / Drama

Part 12: Masashi

For other works: Masterpost

Mmm, you were too warm when the sunlight started hitting your eyes. Unwilling to wake up, you buried yourself in the heat sink beside you. Yesterday had been such a long day. Fingers crossed, Kou would sleep in and let you sleep in. Someone was stroking your hair. It was nice. You didn’t remember the last time someone did that. Whoever it was had a lover’s touch. You didn’t want it to stop.

Voices whispered, and you rolled over, eyelids heavy. “Ten more minutes,” you mumbled incoherently. The hand stopped stroking your hair, and then you were floating. It was all so warm. It seemed all too soon were you roused by a particular someone bouncing on the bed. “Mommy! Wake up! Daddy says breakfast is ready!” “Daddy what? What time is it?” you opened your eyes blearily to find yourself in a strange room. It took a few moments before the events of the past few days came back to you. That’s right. Kouhei had appendicitis, and he needed surgery. Now the two of you were staying at Dr. Himuro’s, no Masashi’s apartment. Reaching out, you caught your son by the arm.

“No bouncing for you. What if you open your stitches?” “Stitches?” “No bouncing until your boo-boo heals. Mommy’s orders.” Grabbing your little boy, you pulled him close, raining kisses on his belly. “Mommy, it tickles!” he squirmed and squealed before wincing. “Alright. That’s enough playtime. Did you brush your teeth yet?” “Daddy checked.” “Oh yea?”

“What kind of trouble are you giving your mother?” Speak of the devil. There he stood, tall, dark, and handsome. “Daddy!” Your lifted your eyebrows when Kouhei ran to latch onto his father. Well obviously someone did some bonding while you were asleep. Your baby boy’s dreams were coming true. Now he had a father just like all his other friends at school. “‘The Detective Boys’ is on. Why don’t you go watch some tv and let your mother get changed?” “‘The Detective Boys!’” Kouhei’s face broke into a wide grin, and he was out of the bedroom like a shot. “No running!” you called after him. And like that, the two of you were alone again.

“Good morning,” Masashi said with a loving smile on his face. “Good morning,” you echoed awkwardly. What were you supposed to say after what you saw last night? “You moved me?” “Kouhei was up anyway. The bed is more comfortable than the pullout.” “You should’ve woken me too.” “You were tired. You’ve been at Kouhei’s bedside.” “I’m his mother.” “And mothers are always in need of sleep. Besides I could handle him.” “I didn’t expect you to be so good with kids.” “My sister has a son. He was Kouhei’s age when we got engaged.” “Oh?” “Akira’s finishing up middle school now. He visits from time to time,” his voice sad and affectionate at the same time. “You sound close.” “We are. He’s a great kid. After you….While you were gone, Akira helped me get back on my feet.” “I see. I’m sorry…” “It’s not your fault. You’re here now.” “Masashi…” The expectation in his eyes was sometimes too much. After all, the entire situation was still very unsettling. But last night when you slept in his arms, it wasn’t awkward despite the newness. In fact, it felt nostalgic and safe like a favorite childhood blanket. The same man who was so vulnerable last night stood before you, the morning light accentuating his features. Your son really took after his father.

“Can I?” His hands hesitant as they reached for you again, just like last night. His question hung between the two of you. “Yea…” Only then did he embrace you. Shakily your arms reached around him to clutch at his shirt. “It still doesn’t feel real,” he murmured into your hair. You didn’t know what to say. This man’s heart probably had scars that you could never understand. If this could give him some sort of relief, you could stay here, just a little longer.

“Masashi, breakfast is going to get cold.” You reminded him after he stood there, holding you without moving. Gently you tried pulling away, only to find that you couldn’t move. “We can heat it up again. A few more minutes. Just let me stay like this.”

“Mommy! You took forever! I’m starving!” Kouhei complained as soon as you made an appearance in the living room. “Oh you’re starving? And who was it yesterday that said he would eat his breakfast but only ate a chocolate bar?” you asked. Suddenly your son seemed very interested in the television. A deep throated chuckle made you spin around. Masashi was laughing. It was the first time you ever seen him laugh. And it seemed to dispel the dark shadows from under his eyes. “Are mornings always this exciting with the two of you?” “You should see when this one has to get to school. It’s a madhouse.” The words seemed innocent, but they were enough to wipe the smile off Masashi’s face. He must’ve remembered that their current arrangement was only temporary, and that you and Kouhei would soon return to your own lives. The future was still uncertain. The grip he had on your hand tightened.

You smiled up at him, hoping to cheer him up. “Why don’t we start off with breakfast first?”

--

After the promised movie, Kouhei swung between you and Masashi recounting his favorite moments as the three of you walked through the furniture store. You smiled remember your time in the theater. While some of the fathers had taken the chance to squeeze in a nap during the movie, Masashi had been on the edge of his seat along with Kouhei. Both of them clutching the arms of their chairs as they sat eyes glued to the screen. Who knew Dr. Himuro would be interested in some child detectives? Perhaps father and son had more in common than looks.

The three of you strolled through the furniture store, Kouhei’s excitement barely contained as he looked around. The children’s section was a feast for the eyes ranging from the run of mill beds to bunk beds to lofted sanctuaries. It didn’t take long for your son to pull away to get a closer look. “Look Mommy! This tent has stars!” he excited pointed to a bed canopy. “Those are real constellations,” Masashi said surprised. You only smiled at them. Boys will be boys. Masashi crouched down to eye level with your son, listening to his survey of the store. “Go pick the blankets you want,” Masashi encouraged. “Whatever I want?” your son’s eyes glowed. “Whatever you want,” Masashi said with the softest smile on his face.

“You really don’t have to do this,” you told Masashi when he returned to your side. “I want to. Kouhei will be happier with his own bed.” “You’re going to spoil him.” “It’s only a bed. This week was rough for a little boy.” “You bought an entire room’s worth of furniture.” “I want him to be comfortable.” “He’s thrilled to just be with you.” “The feeling is mutual. If I could, I’d give him everything he could ever want.”

Your heart ached at Masashi’s tone. You couldn’t fault him for wanting to make up for missed time. You had all 6 wonderful years of your son’s life, and Masashi didn’t. You couldn’t imagine not being there for all Kouhei’s firsts: the first laughs, words, and steps. Not knowing if your precious son was alive. Simply thinking about it could only give you a glimpse into Masashi’s turmoil. You took his hand in yours, trying to impart a small comfort.

“We have the time now,” you offered. “Yea we do, don’t we?” Finally, you coaxed a smile from him. He wasted no time lacing his fingers with yours. “Speaking of time, how would you feel about having lunch with your family?” “My family?” Your thoughts immediately went back to last encounter Masashi had with your parents. The memory was far from pleasant. It had resulted to your mother in a hospital bed and your father asking you to leave. “Dad didn’t pick up when I called him this morning.” “I don’t mean your current family. Your biological family.” “My biological family?” “Yea.”

Right, the version of you that had married Masashi. The stranger in the wedding portrait had a family that loved her. “I couldn’t keep this a secret. They had been suffering all these years too.” “I understand.” All you could do was understand. If it had been you in their shoes, and Kouhei had gone missing, you’d want to know too. Dead or alive, you’d want to know. “When you wanted your space, they didn’t like it, but I convinced them. Now-” “Now I’m back,” you finished. “You don’t have to you’re not comfortable. I told them I wouldn’t force you.” “You’re a really kind man aren’t you?” Masashi looked surprised when you said that. “Where did that come from?” “Ever since I met you, you’ve been making sure that I’m comfortable.” “It’s a given. I’m your husband.” There was no question in his voice. To him, it was the absolute truth. “Yea I’m beginning to understand that.” “No matter what you decide, I’ll be there.” “Yes,” you nodded. “Yes?” “Yes, I’ll go see them.”

Author’s Note: After a year, their story is finally coming to a close. In the next part, your questions will finally be answered: who were those people posing as her parents? what do they really want? And now what does the future hold for Masashi and his family? Will they be able to pick up where they left off or will she decide to sign the papers?

Stay tuned!

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Commission Info

[somewhatunconscious]

Reblogging this old shit to remind me again WHY I made an ENTIRE fanfic revolve around his story? Hahahaha!

Am thinking of sending new links here on tumblrdom. It’s all out on wattpad and I get annoyed when this app crashes because of my excessive heavy word count (hello, I’m kinda like writing a book so yeah. Lol)

Ooh! I haven’t been doodling for the longest time. I was a bit worried at first if I could hack it, but am so happy anyway to be able to sketch (and finally finish the route of) my newfound favorite Flirty Old Fart: Tadanobu Nomura of Metro PD: Close to You.

The MC. Oh boy, she was simply amazing in his route. Figures because the story takes place 6 months after the prologue so we’re seeing a confident, more put together female character whose even been given a subordinate (unlike the usual routes). I won’t give away spoilers but Nomura’s route was a bit challenging for me personally because it was hard to predict his actions as he’s quite a layered and complex character. Think Bruce Wayne and Batman and you’re still figuring out how to deal with a guy who has trouble showing his real self to you. He tells you to stay away from him, but he can’t seem to keep his distance either (yeah, that annoying confusing type). His lovey dovey moments with “Little Hiroshi” provided a bit of comic relief.

My only beef is that I’ve been seeing a misuse of the word bemuse. To the translator: FYI: just because it rhymes with amused doesn’t make it the same word. Sound confused? Well, that’s bemused. Anyway, I also have the biggest bias for Kirisawa and the guy’s been playing wingman most of the time to the point that I felt like I was cheating on my Little Hiroshi 😂 that I almost forgot about Old Man Eiki, I mean Nomura.

If you like complex characters like Mitsunari Baba with a bit of personal vindictive drama like Mamoru Kishi mixed with self deprecation emo moments like Seiji Goto/Akiyoshi Zaizen then you’ll probably dig Nomura. His route was the most unique because of the MC :)

[reinasescape]

To Be Continued (Masashi Himuro)

Summary: Marriage is a wonderful chapter of life, but when something unexpectedly happens to the leading lady, what does the male protagonist do? Masashi never expected to find marriage a part of his story, but ever since she found her way into his life, he couldn’t see him life without it. She’s been gone for nearly 7 years now. Can he bear to close the book and say that their story’s done? As a medical examiner, he isn’t new to death, but when it’s her name on the death certificate, can he put his pen to the paper?

Part 11: My Other Half

For other parts: Fanfiction Masterpost

“Is this what you want?” You asked looking up into his stormy eyes. “What?” His eyes widen as he stared at you.. “You think this is what I want?” his voice incredulous. “It’s all so confusing. You opened up your home to us, and then hand me a pen. What am I supposed to think?” “I didn’t want to pressure you.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms against his thighs, clasping his hands together. He didn’t look at you, instead, he focused on the table. “When you didn’t return my calls, I thought that was my answer,” he said quietly. When he raised his head to look at you, it was with the face of a man who had seen unfathomable pain. A man that was drowning even as he breathed. “I had to think of Kouhei. I knew if I picked up, we could overturn his world. It would destroy everything that he knew,” you started to explain.

Inside you knew it was wrong. You knew something was wrong with the life that you had constructed around yourself. But if you had to choose between the truth and your son’s happiness, not knowing was a small price to pay. That was weeks ago. Now Kouhei’s father sat in front of you, and all you had to do was reach across the table, and the answers could be yours. Your son looked liked his father. It was there in the shape of the eyes, the bridge of the nose, and even their hands. Long fingers made to dance along the neck of a violin.

“I understand why you did what you did.” He spoke slowly as if he had carefully considered each word.  “You had your own life.” It was only now that you saw what it had cost this man to give that to you. It was his selflessness that put the pen in your hand. “Is this what you want?” You asked again, holding his gaze with yours. “No, never. But if it’s what you need, you should sign it.” “Kouhei already knows.” “_________…” His eyes were unsure as they looked at you. “What are you saying?”

You set the pen down. “All these years, I lived, thinking you had died. I did the best I could with Kouhei. Everything’s that’s happened, with my parents, with you, it’s overwhelming. But I can’t help but feel we’re rushing into this,” you motioned at the divorce papers. “You said you don’t want this. And I don’t think I would’ve had a child with someone I didn’t love.” You paused to catch your breath. “What I’m trying to say is I don’t think we need this form. Not yet at least.” “I understand.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a bitter smile. “I’ll take this for safe keeping.”

An awkward silence descended back on the living room. “To think that we both thought the other was dead, and now we’re sitting here,” you nervously laughed. “When I found out you were missing, I couldn’t breathe,” his voice hoarse. It was as though merely mentioning the incident was enough to choke him.

“You were already six months pregnant, and there was so much blood.” Dr. Himuro paused, forcing himself to breathe as he continued. “I hated myself. I should’ve taken the day off. Then at least I would’ve been with you. You wouldn’t have had to go through it alone. But I went to work. I had chosen work over my own family. I couldn’t protect you,” his voice broke. Dr. Himuro’s knuckles turned white as his nail bit into the palm of his hands. “Dr. Himuro….” “No matter what anyone said. I believed you were alive. It was the only way I could live. I told myself you would want me to keep living.” He looked up at you, his dark eyes haunted. He tried to smile, before the corners of his mouth fell. “It’s fine. You’re alive. Our son is safe. That’s what’s important.” The way he looked at you now as if trying to memorize every detail in case you vanished. He closed his eyes to banish his fear, and when he opened them again, they were clearer.

“Let’s go check up on him.” When Dr. Himuro offered you his hand, you took it without hesitation.

–

“I feel bad kicking you out of your own bedroom.” You trailed Dr. Himuro back to the living room, trying to offer a hand as he carried out an extra duvet and pillows. “It’s not a problem. Kouhei needs you to stay with him,” he said matter-of-factly. “The sofa pulls out.” “But there’s so much stuff. At least let me help you clean up.” “If you insist.” “Well I insist. Here where do you want me to move this?” “It’s heavy, let me.” “Ack!” You barely clung to the frame as the sheet slipped. “Oh.” It felt like punch to the stomach seeing the photo. Deja vu. It was you and him, dressed in white and black respectively. Your wedding portrait… To think it was still in the living room. Exactly what kind of torch was this man holding? “Here, I’ll take that.” As you handed it to him, you took a good look around the room. All those light patches in the paint. How long had he kept these photos up?

“You kept these up all this time?” the words leaving your mouth before you thought better of it. “This is our home.” He stated it like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m having the painters come in tomorrow.” “Oh are we in the way?” “No, you’re not. We can take Kouhei the movies tomorrow. I would like to take him to the park, but that can wait.” “I’m sure he’ll enjoy that. I don’t think he’s been to a theater yet. Our town’s pretty small.” “So I saw.” A comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you cleared up the living room, falling into an easy rhythm as you handed him things one by one.

“Well I’m going to head to bed. Good night Dr. Himuro.” “Wait!” The urgency in his voice made you whip your head around. “It’s Masashi. That’s what you’d used to call me.” “Right…” Masashi… you roll the name around your head. He was, is, your husband. Married couples called each other by their first name. That was normal enough. “Well good night then Masashi.” “Good night _________.”

–

Masashi could hear her. She was laughing. He could almost see her, the sheet of dark hair as she ran up ahead, skipping and dancing around the road. “Wait up! Why are you always in a rush?” But even as he called after her, she only spun around to beckon him. 

‘Come on,’ her impatient gestures seemed to call out to him. “If you keep running off like that, someone’s going to get lost.” That someone being him. “Come on _________, slow down.” She spun around laughing again, walking backwards to keep him at a distance. All that mattered to him was that she was smiling. He jogged after her. Just as he took her hand, she vanished.

Then she was there again, at his feet. Her hair fanned out, matted with blood. Too much blood… He collapsed to his knees, a part of him knowing that he had to stop the bleeding. But from where? Scratches littered her skin, unsightly glass shards sticking out from her flesh. They bit and cut into his hands as he tried to staunch the bleeding with his hands. He had to save her. Her heart continued to pump her lifeblood out of her body, his clothes sticky with it now, the metallic stench shoving itself down his throat. Reaching for her again, he realized she was gone. Gone! Frantically he whipped his head around looking for her body. There was so much blood. He was kneeling in a pool of it. But she was gone!

“_________!” He woke with a start, clawing at his throat, the stench of blood still on him. The hand touched him was warm making him jump. “It was a dream. You had a bad dream.” His eyes adjusted to the pale slivers of moonlight coming into the living room. _________ was there in the flesh, her dark eyes wide and hair tousled around her like a soft halo. She must’ve rushed to his side. “You were dead, and I couldn’t save you,” he croaked. If he was in his right mind, he would realize how pathetic he seemed after all these years. This wasn’t the way he wanted her to see him. “I’m here. You see?” She placed his hands against her cheeks. “I’m fine.” “You’re here,” he repeated. “Yea, that’s right. I’m here.” When she smiled at him, it was the same. The smile didn’t fail to warm  his heart, chasing away the chill left behind by the nightmare. “You’re alright,” he said slowly, letting his hands remember her face. She was so warm. “Yes I’m fine. Kouhei’s fine. We’re all fine.” Her voice was so soothing, and her lips were so close. It was so tempting. “Thank God.” He rested his forehead against hers, momentarily forgetting her boundaries. “Does this happen a lot?” “From time to time.” “Can I get you something? Water? Tea?” “No,” he shook his head. His hands were still clammy. He didn’t have to check to know his shirt was soaked through. He’d need a new one. “Stay with me.” “Sure.”

She waited outside the bathroom while he stripped out of his sweat drenched pajamas and shrugged into fresh ones. “Better?” she asked gently when he stepped out. “Yea.” When he took her hand again, she made no move to pull away. That was good. He didn’t know how he would fare if she rejected him tonight. “Do you want to go back to sleep?” “Will you stay?” He waited. He could see her hesitating, feel her hand pulling away.

‘Please say yes, please say yes. Don’t say no.’ He grasped her hand tighter, lacing his fingers with hers. She looked up at him in surprise. Those big doe eyes. He could see his whole world in them. He didn’t know how long he had been holding his breath. “I’ll stay.” “Thank you.” He got under the covers first. She lifted the edge of the blanket, each movement deliberate. One leg, then the other, then her full body. For the first time in years, the left side of his bed had an occupant. Carefully he put a hand on her waist. Masashi waited for her to reject him, but she didn’t. So he moved closer and closer. And when she still didn’t push him away, he pulled her against him, holding her close. The years might’ve passed, but she still fit perfectly in his arms. His sweet wife. Gradually, her arms wrapped around his back, and he couldn’t take it anymore. Desperately, he crushed her to him, burying his face in her hair. To think he’d be able to smell their shampoo on her again. And when she hugged him tighter, he felt alive again. Really breathing again.   “Good night Masashi,” she mumbled against his chest. “Good night _________.”

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Commission Info

[jessyurahara]

Seductive Attention- Tadanobu Nomura (NSFW)

NSFW shiz beneath the cut, kind of, there’s some fluff as well, enjoy <3

For the first time, he called you into his office, and it left you with rather mixed feelings. On the one hand, what if you were in trouble with him? Tadanobu, well, you've never seen him angry before, but who knows, he might be rather scary the brief thought of Tadanobu being angry and possessive sending shivers down your spine. On the other hand, you never mind being alone with him, with your unbelievable sexual attraction to him, if you're interpreting the sexual tension correctly, then he feels it too.

When you arrived inside of his office, he looks up, pushing a file to the side, "Close the door please" He announced, a sudden fear overtook you at the calm, yet strict tone his voice had taken, as you close the door, attempting to take a step forward, but are immediately stopped, "Lock it, please" Nodding, you quickly follow his instructions, once this is done, you sway over to his desk, afraid that you've done something horribly wrong, standing opposite him, awaiting your fate. "I asked you in here today to discuss your wardrobe" "My wardrobe?" You whispered to him innocently, although you are astounded he had actually taken note of the shorter, tighter pencil skirts, and the slightly lower cut tops, meaning to draw his attention, and yet, you had.

However, was it good attention?

"Your attire recently has been a bit... distracting," He said to you professionally, although normally you felt as though you could pick up on body language you fail to notice the way in which his pupils have dilated. He stood up, putting his hands on his desk, leaning across it towards you, "It is difficult for men to do their work when you're flaunting your figure at them" You know it's a risky move, but you notice the way his eyes just subtly glanced at your cleavage, and the way his tongue wet his lips. You know there could be rather drastic and dramatic repercussions if you're misinterpreting things, but you can't help but respond to him, "I didn't realise you found me attractive Nomura, I wasn't aware I'd be a distraction" "Is that so?" Tadanobu asks, his mouth now curving into a wicked smirk, without knowing it, you have just given him the green light, "Maybe I haven't made myself clear, the clothes have to go" He waits, hoping you will catch onto his meaning, and you do. "Alright, Nomura" You responded, and immediately began undoing the buttons of your blouse, walking around to his side of the desk. He swivels his chair towards you to watch, waiting until you let the shirt fall to the floor, "Is that better?" "A marked improvement" He whispered approvingly, and you continue obeying his orders as you wriggle out of your skirt, allowing it to pool at your feet, "Come here" He added, while you obey by straddling him in his chair. Taking a moment to look over your body, sliding his hands over your sides, then lifting his head to capture your lips. For a moment, you are shocked, despite what has already happened in his locked office, but soon you loosen the salmon tie a little, beginning to unbutton the crisp white shirt.

The two of you finally become breathless, stopping the passionate kisses for a moment, gasping for air, taking the opportunity to lift yourself off his lap, lowering yourself down to the floor, kneeling between his knees, "Am I less of a distraction now, Nomura?" You ask him coyly, looking up at him from between his legs where you are slowly unbuckling his belt, proceeding to slide his pants down his legs, briefly placing your head on his knee, "It's quite the opposite (L/N)" He informs you, "Well, relaxation has been shown to increase productivity" You whisper to him matter of factly, "And I have a great relaxation technique"

Getting his pants around his ankles you move his boxers out of the way, shooting him a devious smirk as you lower your head between his thighs. Throwing his head back with a husky groan, he threads his fingers into your hair while you gratify him until he is nearly undone. And when you move to stand up again, he groans in protest but then realises that you have other plans for him.

Standing up he kisses you lustfully, turning you around as he pulls you into him. Feeling his excitement against your ass through the red lacey knickers, and you moan with desire, wanting him to get to the main activity. A moment later, he pushes your shoulders forwards so that you're bending over his desk, moving the tiny scrap of lace out of his way so he can bring you both the satisfaction you've been waiting for.

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