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anonymousewrites · 2 years ago

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There's a Will; There's a Way (Book 4) Chapter Four

Dazai Osamu x Fem! Reader

Chapter Four: Haunting Past of Akira Mori

Summary: Akira revisits her past and the different stages of her life.

Three years old…

“Akira, it’s time for bed,” said Nanako, picking up Akira.

“Don’t wanna,” pouted Akira.

“Rintaro, will you help?” asked Nanako. “Your daughter is being a rebel again.”

“Listen to your mother,” said Mori, walking over and smiling slightly.

Akira shook her head. “Uh-uh. I don’t wanna.”

Nanako sighed playfully. “What am I going to do? She turned out like you both in appearance and personality. Both of you are incredibly stubborn.”

Mori swept Akira out of Nanako’s arms. The little girl laughed in surprise.

“Come on, let’s get to bed before your mother keeps teasing us,” said Mori.

Nanako chuckled and rolled her eyes. Akira allowed herself to be carried to her room by Mori.

“Goo’night,” yawned Akira as she lay down and closed her eyes.

Nanako walked up behind Mori and looked over his shoulder. “Well?”

“She’s at least pretending to sleep,” said Mori.

“Well, then, let’s let her pretend. We can relax by ourselves for once,” joked Nanako.

“Should I have Elise make us some drinks?” asked Mori.

Nanako shook her head. “Really, Rintaro, dear, you’ll become lazy if you have her do everything for you.”

Mori pouted. “Nanako!”

“You know I’m right,” shot back Nanako. She grabbed his wrist. “Come on, let Akira sleep. She’ll wake up crabby if you keep being like this.”

“You’re so mean…” sighed Mori.

“You haven’t seen mean, Rintaro.”

Four years old…

“Daddy!” Akira ran into the front hall. “Daddy, I don’t know where Mommy is! She hasn’t been home in hours!” She grabbed onto his doctor’s coat and looked up at his face. She could tell that he was…sad.

“She’s not coming back,” said Mori. He looked down. His eyes were clouded, but no emotion breached his face. “Akira…She’s not coming back.”

“Wh-What happened to Mommy?”

Mori was quiet.

“Daddy, where’s—?”

“She’s gone.”

And that was all he said. He crossed the hall and went into his office, shutting the door behind him. Akira was left alone. Tears began to fall as she realized her mother wasn’t coming home, and Akira felt the agony of heartbreak for the first time.

Five years old…

Akira walked into the sweets shop. After visiting her mother’s grave (which unfortunately had no body, just the tombstone), she found it hard to lift her spirits, so she would go to Nanako’s favorite shop. Akira was a child, so she couldn’t quite articulate why she did it, but the truth was she felt closer to her mother doing the things she loved. Mori would usually be along a few minutes after Akira since he stayed behind at Nanako’s grave longer. Akira sat down at a table.

“Aren’t you a little young to be here alone?” asked a girl with short black hair, putting her hands on her hips.

“My dad is comin’ soon,” said Akira. She smiled. “I’m Akira Mori.”

“I’m Akiko Yosano,” introduced the girl. “What are you doing here?”

Akira frowned. “I don't feel good. My mommy is gone…”

“I’m sorry,” said Yosano.

“I also found a butterfly,” said Akira, holding out her hands.

A small butterfly lay in her palms, barely alive.

“Now I’m sad about it, too…” Akira frowned.

Yosano sighed. It wasn’t fun seeing such a small kid sad.

“Here, let me show you something,” said Yosano. She gently took the insect from Akira. “Thou Shalt Not Die,” she whispered.

Akira’s eyes widened as the butterfly twitched and stood. Finally, it flew away, out the open door as Mori watched in surprise.

“Whoa…” breathed Akira. She laughed. “That’s so cool!”

Six years old…

Akira sighed as she sat in the tree. She kicked her legs back and forth off the branch. I wish Dad would take a break from teaching Akiko…

Mori had taken Yosano in as a student. Because of her ability, her skills as a nurse improved quickly. Akira hadn’t minded Yosano being around because she liked the nine-year-old, but her feelings changed since Mori would be hyper-focused on teaching and ignored Akira. She felt lonely.

Akira gazed up at the sky as the sun sank lower on the horizon. Stars began to dot the sky. As she watched, she recognized five silver pinpricks on the velvety sky as Apus, the constellation of the bird of paradise. She only knew it because her father used to say that her mother was like the constellation. A bird from Heaven itself that brough paradise to his life. Akira brightened. Her father might like seeing Apus again as a reminder of his wife.

She clambered down the tree and rushed into the house. She opened the door to Mori’s study where he was quizzing Yosano on medical treatments.

“Dad!” called Akiko excitedly.

“I’m busy,” snapped Mori.

“But Dad, I thought you would want to—.”

“Enough! Go play outside. Whatever it is can wait,” said Mori sternly.

Akira’s shoulders sagged slightly. “M’sorry,” she said meekly, shuffling out the door. He didn’t even turn around and look at me…

Seven years old…

“Please, you can’t leave! Please!”

Akira was desperate. Her father and Yosano were going off to the war as doctors. She was going to be all alone.

“Don’t worry about me,” said Yosano confidently. “I’ll be fine, and I’ll be helping people.”

“You can’t be sure! You could be hurt!” cried Akira.

“Listen to Yosano, she’s being sensible about this,” said Mori.

“Then I can come, too! You can’t leave me alone!” pleaded Akira.

“The government is providing a caretaker, you’ll be fine,” said Mori. “And you cannot come. You are a child; you cannot protect yourself.”

“But—!”

“Enough, Akira!” Mori look sternly down at her. “I won’t hear any more of this. Yosano and I are almost late.” He took a few steps down to the waiting car.

“Please, Dad! I’m scared! You can’t leave me like Mom! Please don’t leave me!” begged Akira.

Mori whirled on her. “Do not bring her into this!”

Akira flinched back at his anger. “I’m sorry…I’m just afraid to lose you…”

Calming himself, Mori sighed. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

Akira watched with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

Eight years old…

For the first time in a year, Mori stepped into the house. Akira ran up to him.

“Dad!” She cried. She quickly became silent when she saw Mori’s somber gaze. “…Where’s Akiko?” Please…don’t tell me she’s gone…

“She’s fine. We just won’t be seeing her anymore,” said Mori.

“…What happened?”

Mori ignored her and walked into his office. Akira was left alone in the hall. Strangely, she felt more alienated from her father than she had when he first left. Akira clenched her fists as tears formed in her eyes.

Dad…please come back to me…

Eleven years old…

“You are going insane, Dr. Mori!” shouted Fukuzawa as the two men clashed on the hospital roof. “You’re going to drag one girl back into Hell and throw another in as well!”

“Yosano is vital for the tripartite tactic, for the peace of the city!” cried Mori maniacally. “To overthrow the powerful boss of the mafia, and immortal regiment led by Yosano is the best and only way!”

“And your own daughter?! Abandoning her is the ‘best way?!’ ” questioned Fukuzawa.

“I must think of the good of the city, that’s what Master Natsume desired!” Mori glared at Fukuzawa.

“Would Nanako want this for her daughter?!” challenged Fukuzawa furiously.

“Nanako is dead.” Mori’s voice was ice cold.

“Then don’t you want better for your daughter?!”

Mori’s eyes flamed with rage. “I will not be weak! I will do exactly as I’ve planned!”

“Have you no heart?!”

“This is war! It’s a game where the side that cares about ‘heart’ first loses!” declared Mori. There’s a reason Elise acts the way she does now. I will miss—

Akira entered her home. It was unusually empty, which immediately put her on edge. All of her father’s stuff was gone. Mori’s office door was open, and the inside was baren. All the books and tools were removed from the various shelves. Akira knew better than to wonder if someone had hurt her father. This was too systematic, and as she got older, she understood Mori was dangerous. Akira knew what had happened. She pushed the nearest shelf to the ground. She screamed in anger. Akira had been abandoned. She was officially alone.

Twelve years old…

Akira ran through the alleyways as the gang followed behind her. Darting around corners, she regretted going into their territory. Admittedly, they were a small criminal organization, but for Akira, a young girl, it was a mistake to pickpocket in their small area. Especially when she managed to get a large wad of cash from a businessman passing through the streets. With the competition of the Port Mafia and the Sheep, smaller gangs scrambled for power to operate even as simple conmen in certain areas. They would steal from those areas, extort residents, and conduct other misdeeds.

She veered into another street and scrambled over a fence. Unfortunately, the next fence was too high. She was trapped. Akira turned around and glanced around for any weapons she could protect herself with. There were broken cans and bottles. She picked up a shard, a pitiful item against four men approaching her.

“We don’t take kindly to ‘freelancers’ coming out here. If you gave a percentage to us, we’d be more lenient, but…” The leader smirked cruelly. “I feel like teaching you a lesson.”

He pulled out a knife. Snapping his fingers, he directed his associates to grab Akira. She fought back by slashing her broken bottle at the. She succeeded in putting scratches on them. It only angered them further, and they grabbed her arms tightly. The leader stepped forward and grinned as he plunged the knife into her stomach.

Akira screamed in pain. White hot agony lit her every nerve. I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die! As she was dropped to the ground, she barely registered the bruises that formed as she hit the dirty cement. Her senses were already beginning to dull. Akira could see the men jeering at her as her vision blurred. Their voices sounded far away as if underwater. Akira wanted to cry out or get up, but her every desire for movement or action was failing her. Her eyes closed, and she felt a warm emptiness engulfing her. Still, her mind fought against it. Akira didn’t want this. She wanted to live.

Kill them. The fires of hell fuel this fury. Kill them.

When Akira finally had clariry in her own mind, she found herself standing upright in the alley. The previous pain she felt in her stomach was a dull ache. However, that is not what she focused on. Akira was preoccupied with the scene surrounding her. The men who had attacked her lay on the ground. They had been ripped apart, and their limbs were strewn around the alley. Blood splattered the walls. Crying out, Akira stumbled backwards in shock. She brought her hands to her head but froze. Claws curled out, and her hands were soaked in blood. Breathing shakily, she clutched her head, too panicky to care for the blood. Akira was faced with another shock as she felt horns on her head.

Oh, god…I did this! I killed them! I tore them to pieces!

Akira looked at her bloody hands. She had to face the truth. She had a gift like her father, her mother, and Yosano. And…it would let her be strong. Akira narrowed her eyes. If it meant she could live…she would hone this ability to its highest potential. She would become whatever was needed to survive. Liar, pickpocket, conwoman, demon.

Fifteen years old…

Akira placed an icepack on her head. She watched as the next pair of kids fought. She despised being entertainment, but if she wanted to have any semblance of a home, a place to return to, she would do it. And…Hell Hath No Fury gave Akira an edge. She learned to fight quickly. She was strong. She was dangerous.

“Hey, girl!” barked the barkeeper. “You have a fight against a proper ability user!”

Akira glanced up distastefully at the man the barkeeper gestured to. “He’s an adult.”

“Yeah, well, he’s payin’ extra to get some target practice against our best fighter. So get to it!”

Sighing, Akira stood up and went into the large cage-like arena. The man came in after, dressed in a suit and still not paying attention to his opponent.

“On the right, we have our resident demon Akira! On the left, we have mafia man Gorou Yoshie!” announced the barkeeper.

Akira’s claws extended, but she remained still. Rushing into a battle without thinking would be foolish. She watched Yoshie like he was merely prey to be devoured. He was just another person to beat.

“Huh?” Yoshie frowned. “But you look just like my—.”

He froze. Akira was standing right behind him with her claws around his neck.

“—boss.”

Yoshie reacted instantly. His hand became a gun, and he pressed to backwards, shotting. Akira flipped away with the bullet merely grazing her side. She gabbed his hands, raking her claws through them. His gun-hand was destroyed. She leaned close to him.

“What did you say?” Akira hissed.

“I didn’t say anything…”

Her eyes turned black. “What. Did. You. Say?”

Akira’s grip tightened on Yoshie’s neck. Pinpricks of blood dripped down his neck from the claws.

“Your appearance!” he gasped. Yoshie could barely breath.

“What about it?” interrogated Akira as people watching the fight clamored at her to kill Yoshie.

“You look…just like my boss…!” His face was turning red.

“Who’s your boss?” hissed Akira.

“My boss’s name…it’s…Mori!” spluttered Yoshie.

Akira growled lowly at the mention of her father. So that’s where the bastards been for four years…!

“Please, I just wanted to fight for practice!” pleaded Yoshie pathetically.

“Practice for hurting people? Kids?” spat Akira

The crowd roared for her to finish the fight. It was getting boring for them to just watch her strangle Yoshie.

She smirked. “Do you hear that?” Akira whispered into his ear. “The crowd wants me to kill you.”

Yoshie’s eyes widened.

“And you know what? I think I will…”

Akira’s claws sunk into Yoshie’s neck.

Akira sat in front of her mother’s grave in the dark. “I killed someone for others’ sport, Mom. I know it’s bad, but…I need to survive. I know that’s not an excuse, but I would have been thrown out if I hadn’t. I’m-I’m trying. I promise I am. I want so bad to make you proud.” She sobbed. “I want to survive and help people…I know I’m doing bad right now, Mom, but I’m trying…I’m trying so hard. I give the other kids some of the food I get. I take more fights for them. I’m trying to make sure they don’t feel as alone as I do. I’m trying to make sure they don’t feel the burden of death. I’m trying to make sure they survive. I’m trying, Mom. I’m trying so damn hard…”

Eighteen years old…

Akira walked calmly into the bar. She glanced around distastefully. This would be the last time she’d have to step foot in the despicable place.

“Hey! Where were you?!” demanded the barkeeper. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t work for you anymore,” replied Akira coolly.

The bar owner laughed derisively. “You gonna threaten to hurt me again? Sorry, girlie, but those other brats will pay before you get to me.”

“Will they? I don’t think so.” Akira smirked cruelly as armed men came in behind her. “I can see you recognize them. You owe these guys a lot of money, don’t you? I thought I’d help you along! You may not have the money to pay them back, but I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

“Kill them! I’ll give you more money, a better deal, anything!” pleaded the barkeeper.

Akira pretend to consider. “Give me the entire business?”

“W-What?! I’ll have nothing!” protested the disgusting man.

“Have fun with the debt collectors, then!” said Akira, turning on her heel.

“F-Fine! You can have it all! The deed is in the back room, now please get them out of here!” cried the barkeeper.

“He’s all yours, boys,” chirped Akira.

The armed men grabbed the groveling bar owner and began to haul him out the door.

He struggled futilely. “B-But I gave you what you wanted! Why��?!”

“You fucking moron.” Akira laughed. “What ever made you think I would help you?”

She watched in satisfaction as the “debt collectors” pulled the barkeeper away. Turning, she saw the other fighters kids looking at her nervously. Akira smiled gently.

“It’s all right. The nightmare is over. You don’t have to fight anymore. You’ll be probably taken care of. I have it all sorted out. And if you ever need help, I’m here.”

Akira stepped down from the ladder and examined her work. She was pleased with how the sign had turned out. The Painted Glass was a more reputable name for the establishment she was making. Smiling to herself, she made the sure the finishing touches of her new bar were ready. Akira didn’t expect anyone in soon since it was a new business, but she would still be professional. And after all, she could get money other ways as well. She raised her head as the door swung open and harried girl walked in, looking around nervously.

“A-Are you Akira?” stammered the girl.

“Whaddya want?”

“I need some information. My brother…He’s missing…”

“Well, then.” Akira smirked. “You’ve come to the right place.”

Twenty-one years old…

Akira was mixing drinks in the quiet atmosphere of the Painted Glass when the door banged open. She looked up for a moment to decide whether or not it was trouble. A hurried man dressed in dark clothing rushed to the back of the bar and sat in a booth. Akira went back to work. Criminals often came into her bar, but unless they caused her trouble or the pay was good, she wouldn’t do anything to stop them. However, she had a suspicion that this man may prove to be problematic as a professionally dressed woman came into the bar.

She’s cute, thought Akira as the woman walked over.

“Hello, I was wondering if—.”

“No drink, no information,” teased Akira.

The (H/C)-haired woman pulled out some money. “Give me a glass of whatever, I won’t be here long.”

“That’s a downer,” pouted Akira playfully while pouring a drink. “Can I at least get the name of the investigator in my bar?”

“How’d you guess I was investigating something?” asked the detective curiously.

“You instantly asked for information, and you didn’t look like you were asking for my number.” Smirking devilishly, Akira shrugged.

“Fair enough. You’re right,” said the woman. “My name is (Y/N) (L/N).”

Twenty-two years old…

“Gogol, ability. Got it. Thanks,” said (Y/N) over the phone.

“Are you okay?” asked Akira. She could hear how frantic (Y/N) was.

“I’m fine, but I’ve gotta go.” (Y/N) hung up.

Akira huffed. I had to find information about some guy I never heard of until today that has some unknown ability. Something’s definitely going on. Akira turned on the police scanner she acquired (translation: stole) and leaned back in her chair. For a few minutes, it was the boring stuff about fires and a few petty robberies. Then, there were frantic voices.

“Get to all the news channels!” cried the voice of an officer. “Reports have come in from higherups! The Armed Detective Agency kidnapped and killed several government officials and one of their own!”

Alarmed, Akira sat up. The Agency wouldn’t do that. This cannot be right; there must be an explanation. She crossed her arms, thinking hard. Okay, so this case will be passed to more important military officials. They won’t use the scanner to speak to each other. But… She smirked. Regular media outlets just report on what’s happening, even if they have no idea why. Perfect.

She pulled out her phone and began scrolling through the news. One fact quickly caught her attention. Travel on a specific highway was being diverted. That meant something important was going on there.

Well, then, thought Akira. Looks like I have somewhere to be.

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utilitycaster · 2 years ago

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I just wanted to let you know that I love your profile pic right now! I love Lord Huron, I almost got to see him live when he was touring but I couldn't make my schedule work. But I still recognized that costume from when my friends saw his show! I swear every single one of my dnd character playlists is minimum 25% Huron. Do you have any of his songs on your characters' playlists?

Not on any of my personal character playlists (tbh I don't have a playlist for my wizard character. I did for my bard, natch, but it didn't have any Lord Huron on it), but I did put songs on my general fan playlists for the Mighty Nein. I got into Lord Huron at around the same time as I was getting into the Nein (someone recommended Vide Noir to me specifically, and was correct...I'll admit I haven't been as up on Long Lost because it's a little less my style though it was still good to see live), so Secret of Life and possibly Ancient Names pt I is on my Fjord playlist and Yawning Grave is on my Caduceus playlist. I also recommended both to the CR music recs project that was going on in 2018-2019. And like, in general, because I saw a show for which First Aid Kit was the opener, I joked it was the band I associate with my favorite Vox Machina character (First Aid Kit and Vex) and the band I associate with my favorite Nein character (Lord Huron and Fjord).

#answered #pippenpaddlopsicopolisthethird

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folkloreguk · 3 years ago

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French Class [6]

A/N: You guys might want to whack out your love song playlist for this one…I cried writing this BYE I'm posting this from my grave!!

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fwb, f2l?, college!au, fuckboy!bias, nerd!reader, ANGST, smut

words: ~ 3.8 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez, @runaway-fics, @mainexiii, @awfullytiredbuthealing, @erikyoong, @etherealuv, @staysuki, @justcuz-ican, @yeostars, @hyuckthangs, @teenloves, @mexious18-blog, @sunghoonied, @mailobjaeyoon

couldn’t tag: @chorizoek

You: can I come over? I kind of need u

H/N: you need me huh…you’re lucky I’m home alone

It always starts differently. Some other question, or a subtle message of telling him you’re bored, or a flat-out confession of being horny. The ending is always the same. You, naked in his bed. You just had to get there, and things were easy when you were already on his dorm’s doorstep.

The moment he had opened the door, you had fistfuls of his hair between your fingers and attacked his mouth in a feverish kiss. He made a noise between a laugh and surprise but reacted quickly. His lips parted right away, letting you in, and you tasted mint from the chewing gum he liked so much.

“Let me- at least- close the door,” he mumbled. “Jeez, what’s gotten into you today?”

You stepped aside and mirrored his grin. He was acting surprised, but the way he instantly locked your lips after he had shut the door told you he was enjoying this as much as you were. You ran your hands down his torso and along the side of his thighs. His happy hum only poured oil into the fire, and you saw no reason as to why you should have kept your clothes on any longer. In minutes, in the middle of heated kisses and clumsy chuckles, your clothes were discarded, and you were left in your underwear. You stumbled into his bedroom in a tangle of arms and legs and heads barely pulling apart.

“Will you tell me about the date you had today or are we skipping over that part?” he asked, as he pushed you down by the shoulders onto his bed. You groaned a little, not even knowing where to start.

“Didn’t go well, huh?” he asked. Only a few nights ago you had consoled him after his failed date, now the roles were reversed.

“That’s one way to put it,” you said. He was climbing on top of you now, and the weight of him between your thighs still did the same things to you it had done the first time. There was one of his random playlists playing quietly from the speakers, but you were both too occupied to even consider switching the music off. You weren’t in the mood for a chat, not when he was biting and sucking bruises into your chest, pushing aside your bra just enough. But you knew he wasn’t going to let it go this easily.

“Tell me about it or I won’t take one more piece of clothing off your body,” he threatened. You shot him an are-you-serious-look while he only blinked at you innocently, like he was awaiting your response.

“Fine,” you groaned. “But hurry, now.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, before unclasping your bra and throwing it to the other side of the room. “Go ahead, I expect a story.”

You had rolled your eyes at him, but when he sucked on your nipple all of a sudden, and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud ever so perfectly, your eyes moved to the back of your head involuntarily. And, before he could complain, you started to retell today’s events.

“Alright. First of all, he acted all gentleman-y. Pulling back my chair at the restaurant, letting me have a look at the menu first, letting me order first, asking me if I was okay with our seats because they were in the sunshine, or whether he should have requested we get a different in the shade table, blah, blah, blah.”

With the lewd noises he was making, kissing your chest and fumbling with your breasts, you almost wondered whether he was paying attention to you at all.

“I’m waiting for the plot twist,” he chuckled. “If he had been this great, you wouldn’t be in my bed right now, would you?” He was now on his way to your lower regions. Your breaths came out shaky when he gripped your hips with familiar fingertips and placed a few kisses there, right above the material of your underwear. Nonetheless, you had to continue your story.

“Oh, it’s coming,” you said. “Because I suspect, the only reason he was acting that way was to compensate. For the fact that he was an hour late.”

He stifled a laugh, and you slapped his head playfully. “It’s not funny! I stood outside that restaurant on a busy street like an idiot for an hour. During exam season!”

“I wonder, if studying is so special to you- ,” he said. He tugged on your underwear, and you barely cared about his words when you were already imagining his mouth on your pussy. “Why aren’t you at home right now, doing just that?”

“Too frustrated,” you groaned, spreading your legs, practically inviting him in. “You don’t get it. That was only the beginning of the date. It gets worse.”

“Oh, damn,” he laughed, and you were going to slap him again. Harder, this time. But his tongue kitten-licked over your clit and you didn’t dare interrupt him further.

“First of all, he turned out to be boring. An economics major. And look, I’m not generalizing, I’ve met some cool economics majors. But when I said I never really understood the whole thing with inflation and deflation, I wasn’t asking for him to explain it to me. I know what it means, I just meant to say money is the root of all evil,” you said, little moans slipping inbetween your sentences. He laughed whilst sipping on your clit. You couldn’t be mad at his laughing anymore. In fact, at the sound of his chuckles, your own lips curled into a smile, too. God, he was so good with his tongue.

“But turns out he loved money. Like it was the sole reason he was doing anything. When he showed me his gold watch I almost yawned,” you continued.

“Dating a rich guy can have its upsides too, though,” he said, but you knew he was joking. He was running the tips of his fingers over your core, and you whimpered at how badly you wanted him to put them inside of you. You loved watching him, loved feeling his hair tickle the side of your thighs and having his free hand laying on top of your hipbone. The familiarity of it all, his little habits, made your heart heavy, so full of emotion, all of a sudden. But you had to snap out of it.

“Not this guy. He kept saying these lowkey sexist things I won’t repeat now. It’ll only make me mad again. He was one of those who thought money would buy him a girlfriend. And I was really trying to see the good in him…only there was none,” you said.

“Alright, I’m starting to understand why you needed some cheering up,” he said. “Good thing you’re at the right place. I know just the thing.”

At this, he slid his digits into you. You hummed and dropped your head into the plush pillow. Slowly, you exhaled, happy you finally got to relax after being so upset. But of course, he had to interrupt. Again.

“Did I say you could stop? Was that the end of the story?” he said. How did he expect you to form a coherent sentence? He fingered you gently, but the slowness of it all only drove you crazier. You felt every tiny sensation, every new bit of you he touched.

“No,” you sulked. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

“Go on, then,” he encouraged you, grinning because he was proud of your reaction he had caused.

“Fuck- okay. He was super shitty to the waiter. I’m talking about criticizing everything. This man had the audacity to complain about the food. I’m not a food critic, but I swear the food was amazing, there was nothing to fault at all,” you said, and then whined when he switched from licking your clit to sucking it between his teeth. You knew he was doing this on purpose. To make speaking harder for you.

“Oh my god, H/N. Wait, let me finish this. Not only was he horrible to the waiter in person, but he also made fun of the waiter’s appearance behind his back. And all along he expected me to find him funny. I used to think he had a sense of humor but not after today. Blech.”

“At least you got a free dinner?” he said, and without awaiting your answer, went back to work. Your head was spinning in pleasure, and you could only laugh sarcastically at his suggestion.

“Yeah. And after that train wreck of a date, he really thought he’d get to stick his tongue down my throat,” you said.

“Did he at least ask permission?” asked the boy between your legs.

“Mhm…but I told him I don’t do that on the first date,” you said. “Safe to say there won’t be another date, though.”

He looked up now, laughing more than before. You grinned, mainly because the sight of him was so cute. He folded his hands on your belly and put his face down onto your skin to giggle. In no way could you be upset or urge him to keep giving you head. In fact, you had forgotten about all of that for a while, as he seemed to enjoy your misfortune a little too wildly. You should have been hungry, eager to have the half-naked boy inside of you. Yet, you laughed at the way his breaths tickled your stomach and when he finally made eye contact, it was a wholly different sort of hunger which overcame you. Instead of the heat he usually made you feel, it was a comfortable warmth that was in your chest. It reminded you of a bonfire or of drinking your favorite hot drink on a cool autumn day.

“I want to watch you come,” he said, casually. “Were you close?”

You were so lost in his trustworthy, dreamy eyes, you almost forgot to reply. Quickly, you nodded and hummed.

“I would have already come, had you not pestered me to tell you all the details of my date,” you said. The way his cheeks beamed when he smiled made you feel as if your insides were turning into mush.

“I’m sorry. I’m your friend, aren’t I allowed to ask how your day went?” he asked.

“Of course you are,” you said. The word ‘friend’ echoed off every wall in your head until you wished you could have deleted it from the dictionary.

“I’ll make sure it feels extra good now,” he said, kissing your stomach. You shivered as you watched his gentle lips move lower, to your hips and the insides of your thighs. The touch felt like butterfly wings on your skin, and the tardiness of it made you impatient. When his tongue came in contact with your clit again, you sucked in a breath of surprise.

He tried to start slowly, but then you gripped his hair tightly, and carefully pushed him further. It was something you did often, a way to tell him you wanted more without having to use words. After all this time, he understood perfectly. Your clit was between his lips and his tongue flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pleasure. It felt incredible, creating a funny sensation in the pit of your stomach. His fingers grazed over your slit until you were whimpering and shifting your hips, trying to make him hurry.

One of his digits slid into you easily, curling against your sweet spot, and it hit you only now how much you had missed him between your legs since he had stopped a few minutes ago. It made you feel as though you were suddenly overwhelmed with all of him, but you were willing to let the heat crash over you if it meant you could be close to him.

“Am I making it up to you now?” he asked as he pulled away merely for a breath. “I’ll turn your day into a good one after all.”

In a different tone his words would have sounded like the exact thing one would have expected to hear from a fuckboy in the bedroom. He could have boasted and bragged endlessly about how great he was with his tongue and fingers – he would have been right – but he didn’t mean it like that. You could tell from the uprightness and the authenticity in his voice that he really was doing his best because he wanted to make you feel better and turn your day around. Because you were special to him. Or so you desperately hoped.

Your legs wrapped around his shoulders as if you were trapping him between your thighs. But he was right there, and he would gladly stay for so much longer, and to say it puzzled you was an understatement. The boy who belonged to everybody, who was known by all of the campus, was treating you like you were royalty, and not the other way around. You moaned, his name inevitably falling from your lips. He added another finger and the slightest stretch made you lose your mind for a split second.

“That guy could have never made you feel this good, could he?” he suddenly asked. Your initial response was a helpless whine. You had been so close, and his talking had interrupted the otherworldly bliss for a moment.

“No, never,” you then whimpered shortly. ‘No’ was such a tiny word. It could barely encapsule what you truly meant to say. Which was that it would have never even gotten that far. That other guys couldn’t even have you at all. They didn’t get their turn to try and beat him. Not as of lately, at least. That you didn’t so much as dare to think about sleeping with other guys. That even before you had gone on the date, you had known it wouldn’t lead to anything. No guy could let you develop an interest on him in the same way the boy between your legs had done it. No other would be able to kidnap your brain like that. H/N was always there. Even when it was only you and your sex toys, you would automatically pretend it was him getting you off. You were so far gone that it was embarrassing how long it had taken you to admit it to yourself. But it was a colossal thing to confess to him, and you would never do that. Rejection would hurt a billion times more than whatever it was you two had now.

Your heart was racing as you closed your eyes. You had been so lost in thought, it was wondrous you hadn’t fallen yet. But you were right on the edge, making your breaths come out like puffs and a string of moans and swears sound from your lips. He too had stopped talking, concentrating on the task at hand, and judging by the way your back arched he was doing one hell of a good job.

“Oh my god- “ you whimpered. “I’m so close, H/N.”

This time he didn’t reply, which was for the best. Only a few seconds passed until you started to quiver and whine beneath him. You were going to outer space behind your eyelids as your high rushed through you. Your fingers curled and tightened in his locks while your legs clenched around his head. He was quick to pull your thighs apart again, still not being finished. For long seconds you swam in pleasure, with nothing on your mind but bursting stars. He was heaven, knowing precisely how far he could take it until you were too sensitive to take any more.

When you were at that point, he finally pulled away and looked up at your crumpled form. There was a lazy smile playing in the corner of your lips and your vision was hazy after having had your eyes closed for a while. He climbed up your body until his chest was against yours so he could really look at you.

“I get all of this without ever having been on a single date with you? I’m so lucky,” he said. You only smiled at him, at a loss for words. What were you to say? The two of you were clearly past the awkward dating stage already.

“I’m lucky you let me come over all the time,” you said. “I would have expected the campus fuckboy to be busier. To not have an empty spot in his bed every night.”

“Ah, shut up,” he said. “I’d rather have you here than a girl I don’t know at all. Look, I’m really tired so I don’t know how this will go…but can I?” He was on his knees, a tent visible in his boxers. With a questioning look, he was tugging them down his legs now.

“Of course,” you said. As you watched him roll on a condom, your ears perked up. Did that song have to come on shuffle just now? The coziest, most romantic love song you adored so much? You knew if you looked him in the eyes you’d be done for. But there wasn’t anywhere else to look when he settled between your legs and held up his weight with his forearms. His eyes were deep enough for you to get lost within a second. Distracting yourself was impossible. The one last thing you could do was to reach between the two of you and guide his length into you.

The song’s chorus came on, you looked at him once again, and suddenly you were all his. You didn’t need to tell him so. He thrust gently, almost carefully, like he had never done it with you. Your heart hammered against your ribcage so vivaciously, you wondered whether it had turned autonomous and was now trying to jump out of your body, onto his skin and through it, so it could nestle next to his own heart.

Neither of you spoke. Yet, there had never been so much chemistry, such a heavy amount of uncommunicated emotions between the two of you. You were ready to hang on his every word, should he decide to speak up. In your head rampaged a billion sentiments you needed him to know, but there was no option to express them adequately. Perhaps there were simply no words in the English language to declare your feelings for him.

Small whimpers and moans left your lips only for him to hear. Sometimes he moved a little quicker, gifting you with the most perfect sounds he could make. And to know you were the cause for it sent you into overdrive. His mouth was right above yours. If you lifted your head slightly, you could have kissed his sweet, sweet lips. But you were so afraid. What would he think? You had never kissed him during sex. Not softly, like you wanted it so terribly.

Even worse, you craved so much more than that. You wanted to pull him in, envelope his mouth in your own, crawl over the edge of his lips and reside in his chest for safety. Because that’s what he was. Comfort. Reassurance. Home. How foolish you had been, pretending this little fling would lead to nothing more. You really had told yourself this would work. No feelings. Just fun. You couldn’t deny having fun with him. He was the best company you had ever known, and he had become your most precious friend quickly. It was as if you had only been waiting for the silly, flirty boy to sit across from you in the library and make weak advances towards you.

The love song tuned out slowly, replaced by something more sensual and sinful. In accordance with the new background noise, he gripped your hips a little meaner and went faster. You barely noticed how his breathing had sped up as he was getting closer to his orgasm. A trance had overcome you, transfixing you on his godlike features and how much it hurt to know you couldn’t call him yours. In your head you were made for each other. They always said to date your best friend, didn’t they? You could try to turn back time, go back to your first meeting place, at the party. See if things would turn out different. But you knew they wouldn’t. As much as your fear tried to suppress it – you would take the same path again, stumbling head-first into his arms and letting him into your life like a crashing wave of laughter and heart-crushing conversations.

Now you reflected in despair, how he had taken your heart in a storm, without having to try too hard. And worst of all, you were okay with it. Your heart was secure with him, you thought. The feelings yearned to be spoken out loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“You feel so good,” he said. “Always, so fucking good.”

He snapped his hips against yours, burying his cock deep inside of you and all you could muster was a hum of agreement. This is what you got for keeping him at arms-length from the beginning. Wasn’t it you who had challenged him to be friends and only that? Perhaps you would be okay, so long as no one else called him theirs either. You could go on like this, letting him use you for sexual relief and making him laugh when he needed it. Gladly, you would take the pain of not being allowed to love him with your whole being if it meant you could see him whenever you wanted. Exposing those silly emotions would wreck your friendship and you wouldn’t let it happen.

He grunted and only then, when he lowered his head into the crook of your neck and moaned your name, you realized he was reaching his high. Softly, you cradled his head in your hands, as if it was the last time you could hold him like this. When he put his forehead against yours, he had his eyes closed and his chest was moving steadier than before.

“You’re the best,” he whispered. “Stay the night?”

Should you have gone home, and missed him all night? Would you have regretted saying no while you curled up in bed with no Cheshire-cat-grin-boy to hold? Or were you to remain in his bed, and pray you would survive the torture of not speaking your mind? His skin radiated the most wonderful warmth and you wanted to trace his lips with your eyes until you fell asleep. That’s how quickly it was decided.

“Okay,” you answered.

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aturnoftheearth · 3 years ago

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okay but if i was to try listening to lord huron for the first time (which i might just be in the mood for because you really make it sound like they're good!), what would be a good album or song to start with...?

omg okay so my personal favorite album is long lost HOWEVER it wasn’t initially my favorite and it may not be for anyone starting out, just because the album is done in this story-like manner (you don’t need to know any lore but there are little interludes and stuff that you may not like??). however however !!! the album is so, so good. “long lost” will make you want to stand in nature and cry. “love me like you used to” will make you miss someone you’ve never met. “twenty long years” will make you want to lay face down in wet cement. “I LIED” WILL MAKE YOU WANT TO TEAR YOUR HAIR OUT. “not dead yet” will make you want to shake your ass. so it goes.

and i’m literally tied between the other three because they’re all so good.

lonesome dreams is like this adventure-nature-granola vibe that frequently makes me cry my eyes out :). “ends of the earth” will make you want to kayak on a glacial lake surrounded by mountains and hike up said mountains. “the ghost on the shore” will make you want to stand on the edge of a body of water and hold back tears. “in the wind” will make you sob, “setting sun” will make you want to commit murder, etc.

strange trails is probably their most popular album and with good reason !!! literally a no-skip album. the “love like ghosts”/“meet me in the woods” sound is insane !!! “fool for love” will make you want to go to a bar and throw someone across a pool table and also run away with the person you love. “the yawning grave” will kick you in the teeth. “frozen pines” is so, so beautiful. and the “louisa”/“the night we met” transition. well. good luck trying not to cry :))))

vide noir has more of a night-time-moody-jazz-meets-rock vibe that’s incredible (but also a little different from their normal sound). “ancient names part 1” will give u enough energy to run faster than usain bolt. “when the night is over” drives me INSANE like i love to listen to it in the dark with headphones on and pay attention to all the instruments and go crazy. the same goes for “wait by the river” (WHEN HE SINGS WITH THE DRUMS HITTING. TRUST ME IT’S SOOOOO). “emerald star” will make you feel like you’re spiraling after finding out everything is a lie. 10/10 experience.

okay that’s all of them not including soundtrack songs/EP’s but uhhh hopefully this gives you a starting point skdjkffkksjf

#u know what. pinning this so anyone who wants to follow knows what to expect #lord huron #asks

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paulbunyanstatue · 3 years ago

Text

When Tim’s head finally dropped and landed heavily on Bruce’s arm with a small snore passing through his parted lips, the man understood patrol over Gotham’s twilight-shadowed streets was coming to an end for the night. Batman and Robin already stopped two attempted robberies and helped a small child find her parents after accidentally wandering away from a local gas station in the middle of a long overnight trip through the town. Tim was never as talkative as Dick on patrol, or even Jason for that matter, but Bruce noticed when he became particularly quiet just after the Gotham clock rang midnight. Bruce wondered if something related to his schooling was bothering the kid, but Tim just said they were fine when Bruce asked about the classes he was taking. Bruce then asked how Tim’s father was, wondering if the quiet demeanor was due to an argument at home, but Tim said he was fine too.

Bruce understood when Tim’s eyes slipped closed the first time, long past a blink and shown in a mimicking movement of the lenses of his domino mask. His chin slowly inched down toward his own chest and Bruce bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. He found it hilarious that the kid could sleep anywhere. Bruce once found him stretched across Dick’s old gymnastic bars in the bat cave, mouth hung ajar and feet dangling over the edge. Alfred found Tim sprawled out across a pool table one evening. He and Dick had been playing but when the older stepped away to accept a work phone call, Tim fell asleep there. Bruce's favorite by far was finding Tim standing propped up against the desk at the bank, bo staff extended and acting as a support beam, while Bruce finished apprehending the robbers. Now, Bruce cleared his throat and pretended not to see when Tim’s head snapped up alongside the sudden widening of the gray lens. The second time Tim fell asleep on patrol that night, the child’s temple landed resting against Bruce’s upper arm and he glanced carefully at his gauntlet to see it was nearly two o’clock in the morning. The hour was earlier than he would normally call off patrol, but the idea of keeping Tim out of a bed for much longer felt heavy in his chest.

Bruce purposefully scuffed his boot against the edge of the building on which the pair were perched, climbing to his feet in the process and watching from the corner of his eye as Tim scrambled up on shaky legs. Bruce knew those blue eyes were blown wide underneath the mask with the surprise of suddenly being woken up. He guided Tim to the opposite edge of the building, momentarily considering they grapple to the neighboring roof to further wake him. But he dismissed that as exceptionally dangerous given his Robin had already fallen asleep twice that night.

Tim crouched down next to Batman, purposefully on his haunches in favor of sitting comfortably flat on the ground, and crossed his arms over his knees. Bruce was bored tonight, but he couldn’t deny he preferred it this way on the evenings that he was accompanied by a child. He still felt his skin crawl when they were forced to fight a violent rogue, particularly after Tim was trapped in a silo with Dick acting violently on fear gas. Bruce often thought back to that night and his cheeks flushed with shame. He despised the way he reacted, so caught up in his anger and terror that he made Tim feel small and like a failure. Alfred had given Bruce a sharp, furious look when he found out what happened during Robin’s rescue that evening. He gave Bruce the silent treatment and provided disappointed looks until Bruce relented and apologized to Tim in earnest.

After another hour of silence disturbed only by the tearing of tires along a road and one screeching car alarm sounding (which was followed by a muttered curse by the owner before the noise ceased and left an echoing of this disturbance in the quiet air), Bruce granted them both the opportunity to go home. Catching up on sleep would benefit him too, as it turns out. He knows he’s heard that enough from Alfred.

“Robin,” his gravely voice was only a hint softer than usual, even Tim had a difficult time noticing. “Come.” With a bitten groan, Tim stood up and stretched up toward the polluted sky, bending his back and yawning largely.

Like a cat, Bruce thought. No wonder Selena thought the kid was adorable.

“What’s happening, Batman?” Tim whispered, listening carefully for sirens. “Did you get a call?”

“No,” Bruce responded easily. “We are done for the night. The streets are gentle enough.”

Tim nodded in agreement. They did seem gentle enough.

They approached the edge of the roof and Bruce glanced down at the hard concrete far below their feet, and sudden terror filled his mind. This particular fear consisted of seeing Robin sprawled out on the sidewalk, so far from the roof and twisted on the ground next to a missed or broken grapple, was a near-constant nuisance in the back of his mind. Sometimes in the thick of his anxious dreams, he still heard the sound of Dick’s parents when they fell to their death before him, a sickening thud that echoed throughout the crowd. Today and standing next to one so tired brought that thought forward with a blow to his gut.

“Robin...” he began, a hesitant whisper that brought Tim blinking largely up at him. “I’m going to repel us both down, okay?”

Tim frowned at the notion. He hadn’t repelled with Bruce since his first few training days when he was still growing accustomed to the sensation of falling that flooded his belly after his feet left the roof top, save one instance in that silo when Tim’s grappling hook was broken. But other than that, Bruce had always trusted that Tim was able to do that himself. Tim was suddenly riddled with the fear that he did something wrong, something to anger Bruce. The man called off patrol early in the night and now he was ordering Tim not to use his own grappling hook. Tim warily looked out at the night sky and wondered if Bruce was planning on firing him.

The thick silence stood in companionship to the changes of worry dancing across the face before Bruce, and he tried to soften the lines tracing his own jaw in response. He could clarify his reasoning, and he even knew that he should do that to alleviate the tension and anxiety. He should tell Tim that he saw him falling asleep and this was simply a precaution, nothing more. But instead, he beckoned the boy with a glove and ordered, “Come.”

Tim’s heels begged to remain planted on the concrete roof, urging him to defend his place as Batman’s new Robin. But his sworn obedience pushed him forward anyway, nearer to Bruce. He tried to ignore the arm wrapping around his waist and the feeling of being pulled against Bruce’s chest as his feet lifted from the ground, but an embarrassed flush colored his cheeks anyway. The position was comfortable and he wished for this modified hug more often after having had the privilege of being held by the very person that he could never admit out loud to holding a parental position in his mind. But his stubborn brain reminded him harshly of the reality surrounding him. Bruce wasn’t his father, and Tim believed Bruce saw him as more of a business partner. Batman and Robin; Tim knew that from the very start of the arrangement.

Tim saw Bruce act fatherly toward his first two Robins, even during their time spent as “normal people.” He had witnessed Bruce hugging Dick and draping his arm around Jason’s shoulders at the fancy parties his own parents forced him to. He witnessed Bruce murmur jokes to his children who snickered in response and shoved him back playfully, and Tim watched as they shared food from a single plate and silently mimicked the ridiculous high society that surrounded them. Tim longed for that attention as he turned back to his own parents who hardly spoke to him during these parties. Instead, they waved toward him and bragged about his grades to other parents who also didn’t really care.

Tim wanted those hugs and shoulder drapes as well, as Bruce’s new Robin. But that was different, Dick and Jason were actually Bruce’s sons. And Tim was not his-

Tim’s feet landed on the solid alleyway stone, his heel dipped in a sticking puddle, and didn’t that suit his situation perfectly?

“Come on,” Bruce said again and Tim sucked in a deep breath through his nose. Bruce never wasted his time on patrol ordering Tim to follow. That was a mandatory expectation since his very first day wearing the dark cape and R across his chest. But he did follow, tailing closely behind Bruce until he slid silently into the passenger seat of the sleekly-hidden Batmobile. He buckled his seat belt as Bruce started the engine from his place behind the wheel.

“Batman,” Tim began, forcing his voice louder than the mere whisper he wished to produce. Bruce grunted in question. “Are we patrolling somewhere else tonight?”

“At home in a bed,” Bruce answered smoothly.

“And is something wrong with my grapple?”

“I sure hope not.” The same easy answer.

Tim bit his lower lip and thought, so Bruce doesn't care that he is ridding himself of me so soon after allowing me to join in crime-fighting. Ouch. Tim took another deep breath and silently worked on removing his domino mask, snatching the solution from the glove box and slowly peeling the corners from his face. When at last he was free of the mask, he stared out the window and watched the street lamps pass by with a pale yellow glow, seemingly taunting Tim throughout the long drive back home.

Not home, Tim reminded himself sharply. Even though he stayed there a few times overnight when patrol leaked into dusk and when he suffered an injury that required him a safe bed in Bruce’s sick bay and guest bedroom, it was not his home. Tim had a home and he had a living father, and Bruce wasn’t his dad. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest, sinking lower into his seat and purposefully ignoring the confused look it gained from Bruce. He watched the shadowed alleyways pass by as his temple fell back to lean against the head rest so he could only watch the streets pass them by. Tim did not notice when his eyes slipped closed.

Bruce finally pulled into the cave entrance and threw another glance toward Tim. The kid was still asleep and Bruce had to fight the urge to chuckle because the poor guy must have been exhausted to sleep through the bumping terrain that brought them back. He turned off the ignition and faced Tim once more.

“Tim?” He whispered, pushing back his own cowl. But the kid still didn’t stir. Bruce couldn’t bring himself to shake Tim awake, and he instead slid out of his own seat and glided over to the passenger side where he opened the door. He bent over and moved toward Tim, just about to slide an arm under his knees and the other behind his back when he quickly froze. What am I doing? His thoughts halted. This child already has a father, someone who specifically is not Bruce. He couldn’t overstep the barrier that sternly separated himself as a mentor from that of a parent, especially while Tim was positioned so that he had no say in the matter.

Sure, he had carried both Dick and Jason inside after they fell asleep either during patrol or the car ride after, but they were his children. Tim already knew Bruce adopted the two Robins that preceded him, but that knowledge itself wasn’t permission for Bruce to fill a similar position in his own life, no matter how much Bruce believed he needed and deserved it. Tim staying at Bruce’s manor several nights each week without so much as a phone call from his father was proof enough that Tim wasn’t receiving attention like one deserved.

But simply having an absent father was not an invite for Bruce to become his. Despite this, Bruce couldn’t leave him in the car to wake up cold and alone, and he definitely couldn’t wake up that face that relaxed so peacefully while dreaming. And so despite his screeching brain, he reached forward and snaked his arms under Tim, one under his knees and the other behind his back, and he lifted him up to rest against his chest. At the touch, Tim unconsciously moved closer, turning his head toward the warmth that held him, but he otherwise did not stir. This brought a smile to Bruce’s lips.

He carefully carried Tim toward the staircase leading up to the main house’s library, stopping only to flick the lights off. As he entered the manor, he was met with Alfred’s near-frown. It was an expression that meant he was awaiting an explanation for something that he already knew he would not agree with. Bruce shrugged carefully in response to the blatant disappointment at disobeying the one rule of 'no Batman and Robin in the main house.'

“He fell asleep in the car. I couldn’t leave him down there.”

“You could have woken him to change out of the suit first,” Alfred responded coolly, though Bruce noticed the man spoke in a hushed whisper to avoid senselessly waking Tim. Bruce gave him a pointed look and guided the man’s gaze down to the sleeping face below them, only chest-high to Bruce and with his cheeks puffed out with the exhales of the unconscious. Neither man could feign supporting the idea of purposefully waking Tim.

Bruce slipped past Alfred with a swear to clean himself up after he put Tim to bed, something that notably did not receive argument. He climbed the stairs slowly, careful not to jostle Tim too much during the ascent. Despite the efforts, Tim’s eyes cracked open at the top of the stairs as Bruce carried him toward the bedroom door that Alfred and Bruce knew as Tim’s room. His expression flickered from confusion to realization and frustration all in the span of one second. Tim frowned up at Bruce, face so disgruntled that Bruce was forced to swallow a laugh as he met the fierce gaze.

“I can walk.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he stated with a hint of humor still present.

“Bruce, are you going to fire me?” Tim’s voice was firm, a question of business leaving no room for his personal feelings that could so easily be hurt right now.

Bruce didn’t feel the need to laugh anymore; the urge was replaced efficiently with an ache of stabbing guilt. “What?” He whispered. His feet stopped carrying the pair forward immediately, and he was frozen on the carpet.

“I promise I can do better. I am really sorry.” The plea was in stark contrast to the hardness of his previous tone. Now apprehension and begging pounded heavily from behind his words, born deep in his gut. It was obvious Tim didn’t know what he was apologizing for, but he still hoped it would change Bruce’s mind. Tim looked down at the Robin suit he still wore and visibly relaxed a fraction, hoping that because Bruce hadn't already snatched it from him meant it wasn’t too late for Tim.

“Tim, what are you apologizing for?” Bruce asked, voice still hushed but presenting a hint of worry. He did not know what he had missed in the time between driving Tim home and now, standing on the second floor of the mansion and holding the child.

Tim’s eyes met Bruce's for a brief moment before falling and landing at his collar instead, while he threaded the corner of his own cape through shaking fingers. He stayed quiet for longer than Bruce was comfortable with, but the man waited in patient silence anyway while Tim wracked his brain for the thing he supposedly did wrong. “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough, but I promise I will be. I will try even harder.”

“Tim,” Bruce began again, eyebrows furrowing and tightening his grip on Tim protectively. You have nothing to apologize for. You are already trying so hard and it shows with your excellent work. You are good enough and you have been from the very beginning because you are strong and brilliant and loyal and-

“Please don’t fire me,” Tim whispered before Bruce could spit out any of the overwhelming thoughts that cluttered his worried mind.

“I am not firing you. What is this about?” He asked, instead.

“Patrol ended early tonight, and you didn’t trust me to grapple down from that building...” Tim rambled softly, picking at his fingernail with intense interest.

“I ended patrol and grappled down with you because you fell asleep-“

“I didn’t fall asleep,” Tim snapped gruffly and Bruce couldn’t help the challenge in his fast-lifting eyebrow. Tim appeared sheepish as his cheeks colored, and he murmured softly, “I’m sorry. I promise it will never happen again.”

“You aren’t in trouble for falling asleep, and you aren’t fired. You were tired so we came home a little early,” Bruce stated firmly.

“What?” Tim stiffened, suddenly feeling very small while still clutched firmly in Bruce’s strong arms, who stood like a rock as though Tim’s weight was not a hindrance. “I’m not in trouble?”

“Of course not, sweetheart.” And now it was Bruce’s turn to freeze. He couldn’t believe he allowed that word to slip from his lips while speaking to Tim Drake, the child technically in his care as Batman and Robin, but one that already had a father. Tim was not another orphan in need of love and attention, waiting for Bruce to take him into his home.

“Oh,” Tim whispered, staring with pupils blown and cheeks darkening further. And against all odds, Bruce felt Tim relax in his arms as he returned his head to the man’s chest. With a deep breath of relief, Bruce continued his trek. “But, I really can walk now. You didn’t have to carry me.”

“I’m expecting you to carry me up all of these stairs next time,” Bruce responded easily, earning a small giggle.

“Won’t Alfred be mad about us wearing all of this stuff up here?” Tim murmured, lightly kicking his boot-covered toes and holding a corner of his cape up as clear evidence of their misdemeanor.

“Oh don’t worry about that, I already told Alfred it was your fault.” Bruce tossed Tim onto the bed-Tim’s bed, as it was in Bruce’s and Alfred’s minds. Tim saw the room as the guest bedroom because he didn’t know it was only ever occupied by him. He remained seemingly oblivious to the fact that Alfred had purchased posters of Tim’s favorite movies for the walls and Bruce lined the bookshelves with comics, novels, and figurines all for him. Tim noticed the items, but he assumed they belonged to Dick.

Tim landed on the mattress with a surprised burst of air forced out in the shape of a laugh. Where Dick would complain dramatically while wearing a smirk and Jason would bite back with a playful eye roll, Tim just giggled at Bruce’s antics. Bruce thought they were all three so perfect.

“Do you need to call your father?” Bruce asked, trying to sound passive though watching carefully as Tim toed off his boots and unclipped his cape, tossing them both to the floor in a messy heap. He worked hard to hide the bitterness in his voice regarding Tim’s distant upbringing, but it shone violently when he spoke in private about the matter to Alfred.

“Nah, he’s probably asleep, and he won’t want me to bother him. I’ll text him tomorrow,” Tim’s voice didn’t waver because this negligence was considered normal based on years of experience. Bruce swallowed a frustrated growl that threatened to break through with force and fury, and he turned to the dresser.

“Want clean clothes? We put some of Dick’s old t-shirts and shorts in here for you.” Tim’s chest thumped sore hearing that. Being offered Bruce’s child’s clothing seemed very personal, very loving. But Tim reminded himself that he was not Bruce’s son, though he often wished to be. He wanted from Bruce what he didn’t get from his own father, the things he saw at those fancy parties from afar, painfully apparent with the hugs and forehead kisses. The taste of it he had when he woke up being carried to the guest bedroom instead of left in the dark cave downstairs. Tim longed for that. Bruce didn’t notice his dilemma, and he continued muttering instead, “Most of it is Superman-themed because he is a brat...”

“But you love him,” Tim stated aloud, catching Bruce by surprise. Bruce had noticed that this particular one had a tendency to do that. He surprised Bruce when he admitted he knew he was Batman. He surprised Bruce daily with his impressive detective skills. He surprised Bruce now. The man turned toward him with eyebrows high, but Tim ducked around his look as he hopped off the bed and approached the dresser. The words sounded like a spoken fact but felt almost like a question to Bruce, and so he answered it.

“I do love him.” He confirmed as he watched Tim shuffle through Dick’s clothes before settling on a Mario and Luigi t-shirt and a black pair of shorts.

“And you loved Jason,” another statement-question hybrid as he slipped into the attached bathroom, closing the door and peeling his suit from his body.

“I will always love Jason,” Bruce answered firmly through the door. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”

He winced as he said it. Another slip that sounded a bit too parental. Though he couldn’t deny the tug at his chest when he heard the faucet turn on and the sound of bristles against teeth whispered underneath the door.

And of course Tim had a toothbrush in his bathroom at the manor.

“Because they are your sons.” Tim stepped out of the bathroom moments later and walked to the bed, crawling atop and sitting on the warm duvet. “Your mishpachah.”

Bruce slowly approached the bed, tilting his head and drawing his eyebrows with concern. “I love them because I love them. They are my mishpachah and the rest is an added privilege. Is something wrong?”

Tim grinned widely in response and shook his head. “‘Course not, Bruce.” But something was wrong and Tim wasn’t sure how to voice it. “I was just wondering is all.”

The gut feeling deep in Bruce's abdomen poked him and whispered, he’s lying. Bruce hummed in response and gave the kid a scrutinizing look, eyes narrowing slightly. Tim just continued to wear a goofy grin, and Bruce reached out and dropped a hand softly to the top of his head. Tim giggled between his teeth and continued to watch Bruce with an interested look of his own.

“Tim,” Bruce spoke with a light voice, gentle and warm. “You know, you are also my mishpachah.” Tim’s eyes widened comically and his mouth clenched tightly closed. “Even though you don’t live here, you are my family.”

Tim bit at his lip, and he lowered his eyes for a moment. He thought of Dick’s clothes that he wore, his toothbrush drying in the bathroom, this bedroom that he always stayed in when he spent the night at Bruce’s. He thought of Bruce carrying him inside the mansion when he could have simply woken him up. Tim tends to sleep like the dead, or so his father told him, but if he were pulled out of the car by an arm, he would have eventually woken up. Finally, the corner of his mouth lifted in a shy smile, and he whispered, “Thank you.”

Bruce smiled with pride and continued, “You did an excellent job tonight, Timothy.”

“Timothy,” he parroted with a snicker. “So formal.” Bruce rolled his eyes and ruffled Tim’s hair with that hand that still rested on his head. He then stepped away from him while Tim slid under the covers and laid his head on the pillow. Gravity was already pulling his eyelids closed to sleep once more. “Thanks, Bruce. G’night.”

“Goodnight, Tim.” He had to stop himself from leaning in and pressing a kiss to Tim’s forehead. Because the kid already had a father, no matter how much Bruce wanted to fill that role. “Sleep well, ziskayt.”

Though truth be told, he already considered this child his own.

:) The rest can be found here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32502511/chapters/80612944

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iam-sol-emnlyswear · 3 years ago

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Lord Huron fans help me choose a senior quote

“When we're dead and gone, will the mountains remember? Or just carry on, moving as slow as the forest grows, and turn our bones into dust, an untold legend is lighting up.” The Birds Are Singing At Night

“I lie under starlit sky and the seasons change in the blink of an eye. I watch as the planets turn and the old stars die and the young stars burn. But I don't really know this place, and it's lonesome here in the wide-open space. Can it be as real as it seems? Maybe this time I won't wake from the dream. I been dreaming again of a lonesome world where I'm lost and I've got no friends, just the rocks and the trees in my lonesome dreams and a road that don't never end. I been dreaming again of a lonesome world where I'm lost and I'm on my own. What am I destined to be? It's a mystery, baby, just please don't leave me alone, yeah.” Lonesome Dreams

“I get a thrill outta playin’ with fire ‘cause you hold your life when you hold that flame” Hurricane (Johnnie’s Theme)

“If spring comes before I’m found, just throw my bones in a hole in the ground. I lost friends along my way, I knew I’d meet 'em eventually” Fool for Love

“May you live until you die!” Tubbs Tarbell

“Born from a pyre, you are the one made to ignite the winds, a signal to the universes of humanity that we are here, that we are the fools invoking the World Ender.” “Ulysses Beyond Gibraltar”, Kevin D. Kinsella,

“I know the rain like the clouds know the sky. I speak to birds and tell them where to fly. I sing the songs that you hear on the breeze. I write the names of the rocks and the trees” The Yawning Grave

“I belong bodily to the Earth, I'm just wearing old bones from those that came first. There are many more flames when mine is gone, they will build me no shrines and sing me no songs” Way Out There

“I live my life like this just to prove to the world that I still exist” Ancient Names (Pt II)

“I am only an aimless soul heading into a pure black void” Vide Noir

“Send me to the mountains, let me go free forever. I'll be running through the forest, dancing in the fields like this forever” Long Lost

“What good is livin’ a life you’ve been given’ if all you do is stand in one place?” Ends of the Earth

I personally like the Tubbs Tarbell, Ancient Names, and Vide Noir ones cause they’re shorter but we are able to do a lot and Lonesome Dreams and The Birds Are Singing At Night are my favorite songs. I’d like some feedback :)

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takenyoomies · 3 years ago

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Bonten Abbey: (mis)Aventures to the Arcade

Summary:

Sanzu Haruchiyo was known for many things...pill-popping, being late, and most importantly, wrecking the flow of the weekly Wednesday board meeting. What would this week hold? None of the other members of Bonten wanted to find out when he was once again late to the meeting which only spelled one thing for them. Disaster. Word Count: 8.7k Read on AO3

It was a Wednesday, and a Wednesday meant one thing for the Bonten gang. The weekly board meeting that nearly every single member in the top brass gang seemed to dread, loathe, and despise. It was often typical for each member to discuss their part for the designated five minutes. However, going over time would cause extreme tension in the sardine-can-sized conference room that would rival being trapped in a room with a rabid badger. In addition, there were times when other off-topic conversations occurred that in Akashi Takeomi’s quoted words were “an absolute fucking mess.” All in all, the meetings tended to go through without a hitch. However, today was not one of those days as Sanzu Haruchiyo strolled into the conference room with a shit-eating grin that rivaled no one else, fashionably late, of course.

“Hey, Sanzu!” An annoyed Mochi shouted at the man who entered, whipping his head around at the sound of the door closing, teeth barred and fists clenched in anger.

“Yo, Mochi.” Sanzu waved, trouncing over and sliding down into the uncomfortable and hard leather seat.

“We have a set meeting time, jackass.” Kokonoi hissed.

“Like he’d ever listen to that Koko….” Ran laughed, shaking his head.

“Important business called me.” The pink-haired man sighed blissfully, shrugging almost sarcastically to the platinum blond accountant’s dismay.

“I doubt that highly.” Rindou breathed.

“Oh, and what would that be?” Takeomi chimed in, a brow raised as he put out his cigarette.

“I’m so glad you asked!”

Reaching into his pocket with excited fingers, the pink-haired mullet sporting man pulled out a folded piece of paper. One would think this was some grandiose plan, some information regarding their competition, something important. But, no, Haruchiyo Sanzu unfolded the piece of colorful paper and slammed it onto the mahogany conference table, looking up at the group of men with a smirk.

“...Please tell me it’s actually important this time.” One of them said with a sigh. It didn’t matter which one.

“Oh, trust me, it’s of the utmost importance.” Sanzu assured, holding up his right hand, “Swear on Mucho’s grave.”

“The last time you used that, we ended up deserted at some movie theater that was showing a crappy porno...so that’s out the window, and you’re about to be too if this is something-” Mochi ranted, taking a glance at the piece of paper, “Are you fucking serious?” He asked in disbelief.

“What is it this time?” Kakucho finally spoke with an exasperated sigh, standing up from his seat and walking over to take a look at the piece of paper, “An arcade?” He asked with a raised brow as he looked over to the pink-haired man.

“Yeah, they’re running a deal where if eight people come as a group, you get 50% off.” He leaned back in the chair, putting his feet onto the table with a thud, “Therefore, I think we should take advantage of it and get off our depressed asses for a change.” Sanzu concluded with a nod.

There was a click in the background as Takeomi lit another cigarette. “I’m fine without having to babysit for the day.” Takeomi stated, then taking a heavy hit off of the cigarette, exhaling upward, “Interrupting a meeting for this is rather pointless, Haruchiyo Sanzu….”

“I think it sounds like a good time. Reminds me of when we were back in Tenjiku, right Rindou?” Ran turned to his brother, who sighed and shook his head.

“Yeah, I guess there’s some nostalgia there.” The younger Haitani agreed.

“2-1.” Sanzu stated, pointing to the others in the room, “Mochi, Kakucho, Koko….” He said to each as he pointed to each of them with his index finger, pausing as he hovered over the sleeping Mikey, not daring to wake him up.

“It’s a waste of our funds, and judging from the fact we recently recovered from the great Bonten Has To Eat Instant Noodles For Two Months issue...It’s a no from me as well.” Kokonoi explained as he slid his hands together, “I’m sadly not in the mood for instant noodles again.”

Sanzu rolled his eyes, “Stop being a drama queen, and it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was fucking awful. What the fuck are you talking about?” Mochi argued, “Just for that, it’s a no from me too.”

“Bullshit, you’re voting based on emotions.” Sanzu cried out, swinging his feet off the table and slamming his fists onto it with a loud thud.

“What if I am?!” Mochi screamed, holding his fists up, dropping the flyer onto the floor for Kakucho to pick up.

“Oh god, here we go again…” The younger Haitani laughed, laying onto the surface in front of him as he watched the fight unfold.

“Zero days without incident at a Bonten Board Meeting….” Takeomi sighed, shaking his head in dismay.

“Did we ever have a positive count…” Kokonoi asked in confusion.

“Nope.” Ran snorted as he shook his head.

“I think it’d be interesting.” The normally quiet Kakucho spoke up, placing the flyer onto the table near the sleeping blond.

“See? I knew Kakucho was my favorite for a reason.” Sanzu pointed towards Kakucho, who blinked and pointed towards himself to ask ‘who, me?’.

“Didn’t you say Rindou was your favorite last week?” Ran questioned, an index finger on his cheek in sarcastic thought, “Oh right, it was for ‘agreeing with you about how strawberry shortcake is better than strawberry cheesecake’ …” Pointing at Sanzu.

Rindou jabbed his brother in the stomach with an elbow, causing the taller of the two to emit a dull ‘ ow,’ “Don’t bring me into this.”

“That was an important conversation. Mochi was trying to say cheesecake was better than real cake,” Sanzu clarified, “I’m not going to rehash old beef, though.” He held up two hands as if to say he didn’t care. However, it only seemed to anger Mochi more as he drew back a fist. Kakucho began to get ready to hold the brawny man back for the umpteenth time.

However, a small yawn from the front of the table, causing every person to freeze. Mochi and Kakucho returned to their seats quickly as the blond who had once been asleep opened his dark, inky eyes.

“...All of you are unnaturally quiet,” He finally spoke, looking around at each of the men seated at the table. He then glanced down at the sheet of paper that was settled in front of him, “What’s this?”

Sanzu gulped. This was officially a make-or-break moment for his plan, “Ah, Mikey...it’s for an arcade that’s running a deal….” He trailed off nervously.

The blond’s obsidian eyes glanced over the information listed on the paper before pausing at the section relating to food and looking back up at the group of men, “We’re going.”

Sanzu smirked and looked directly at Takeomi, who looked as though he wanted to crawl into a ditch and die, “Sanzu - 1 Takeomi - 0.” He jousted.

“If we were keeping track history-wise, you’d be so far in the red you’d be begging for someone to come save you,” Takeomi shot back, shrugging his shoulders and standing from his seat. He walked towards the door of the conference room, turning his head to Sanzu, “but you do that enough already, huh?” Finishing with a dry laugh as he exited the conference room.

“What the fuck? I’m not Koko.”

“I’m right here…?” Kokonoi shook his head in disbelief, standing from his seat at the table with a huff and kicking the chair back into place, “If I have to eat instant noodles for two months again, I will never forgive any of you assholes….” Pointing a finger around the room, stopping before Mikey, turning on his designer heels, and walking out of the room. You could hear the faint echo of his heels trailing down the concrete hallway.

“And then there were….” Sanzu counted himself and the heads in the room, holding up one hand to count only to realize he didn’t have enough fingers, “Anyways, when are we going?”

“The flyer said the deal is only good until Sunday; therefore, we need to go before then.” Kakucho informed the group, “Since it’s Wednesday, and we each have jobs to do until early Saturday morning...I’d suggest Saturday afternoon.”

“Overall, that sounds like it would work with our current plans, Kakucho.” Mikey agreed, his obsidian gaze staring holes into the heterochromatic man’s soul.

Kakucho nodded his head, “I’ll be taking my leave now. I have some things I need to tie up.” Then, standing up from his chair, pushing the chair in, and silently walking out the door to the conference room.

“We’ll get going as well, then.” Ran suddenly spoke as he stood up lazily, a scuffling noise coming from the chair.

“You act as though we’re going to the same place….” The younger Haitani breathed, shaking his head and rolling his lavender eyes at his brother’s statement.

“I thought you said we’re going out for lunch?” Ran pouted, hands on his hips.

“I said I was going to get lunch, and you invited yourself again.”

“I don’t see what the problem is with that?”

“Everything, everything is the problem with that.” Rindou turned to his brother as he finally stood from his place at the table with a huff.

“Can I come wi-” Mochi started to ask, only to be interrupted.

“NO!” Both Ran and Rindou yelled simultaneously to Mochi.

“Tough crowd…” Sanzu snorted to Mochi.

“Listen-” Mochi started, cracking his knuckles, only to be shot a look by Mikey.

“I’d be careful Sanzu, Kakucho already left, and that makes the chances of your face getting smashed in about 8-2.” Ran pointed with some underlying amusement, almost hoping that there would be another fight.

“Wow! Is everyone Koko today?!” He asked incredulously, putting his head in his palm and looking at the older Haitani, “If I didn’t know better...you did our taxes, Ran!”

“...But, I do help with those?” He questioned in a confused tone, blinking.

“Leave him. He’s hopeless.” Rindou sighed, “Mochi, come with us to lunch before you get put on punishment duty by Mikey.”

“I wasn’t gonna do shit.” Mochi huffed, glaring at the pink-haired man, “What are you lookin’ at?”

“Nothing, nothing...it’s just-” Sanzu paused, leaning forward in his seat to get a closer look at Mochi.

“It’s just what?” Mochi spat.

“Your beard...you shaved it crooked this morning, and it’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve ever seen.”

Yes, it was at this moment that Mikey indeed questioned if he formed the deadliest gang in all of Tokyo...or if he formed the most immature band of toddlers in all the land of Japan.

---x---

“So, who's driving?” Sanzu asked lazily on that faithful Saturday afternoon.

“The last time Rindou drove, he floored it past an old lady because she was driving the speed limit and nearly crashed us into a gasoline tanker, so...I vote not Rind-OW what was that for?!” Kokonoi yelped, getting elbowed in the side by Rindou.

“She was going eight under the speed limit, number one, and number two. I drive fine compared to somebody!” The long-haired man glaring over to Mochi.

“Eat shit.” Mochi replied, flipping Rindou the bird, “Let Kakucho drive; he’s safe.”

Sanzu groaned loudly, “But Kakucho drives like a grandma.”

“And how is that a bad thing?” Kakucho sighed, shaking his head.

“We’re gonna get there at sundown if you drive.” Sanzu pointed out.

“Oh, true.” Ran chimed in with a thoughtful nod.

“I don’t drive that slow.”

“Yes, you do,” Sanzu breathed, “Next.” Kakucho held out his hand, only to put it down in defeat.

“Alright, since Sanzu is an absolute fuckwit about this, I’ll drive. One catch, though,” Takeomi spoke up as he threw his cigarette onto the pavement, crushing it under his shoe.

“Ooooh, Takeomi enters the chat.” Sanzu mooned.

“Shut up,” He shook his head, “I get full control of the radio.”

Everyone went silent, staring at one another in horror.

“Sanzu, let someone else drive,” Kokonoi spoke up finally.

“Yeah, please, let someone else drive.” Rindou shook.

“I don’t want to deal with this for 45 minutes.” Mochi looked over at Takeomi, lighting another cigarette, who had a sinister look in his eyes.

Mikey finally strolled down into the parking garage, noticing no one was in the bus, “Who’s driving.”

“Takeomi is,” Sanzu replied, a collective sigh from the group as Takeomi chuckled to himself.

As everyone began boarding the bus, Mikey clung behind with Kakucho, only to ask a singular question, “Does this mean he has control of the radio again?”

“We’re sadly going to be listening to Russian death metal for 45 minutes….”

Mikey stared ahead before reaching into his pocket and fishing out two pairs of earplugs and handing Kakucho a couple, “Tell no one.”

The dark-haired man blinked as the other walked onto the bus, Sanzu slamming on the horn while screaming at Kakucho to “get his ass on the bus,” much to Takeomi’s annoyance as he tried to shove the pink-haired idiot away. Inwardly, he wondered about the kindness as he embarked on the self-proclaimed Bonten prison bus, holding the earplugs in his fist.

The route navigation guidance will start…

“Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up.” Mochi chided the navigation system.

“Don’t insult her. You’d get lost getting out of a paper bag.” Rindou snorted.

Takeomi turned his head around and glared, “I hear any more arguing, and all of you will wake up in a walk-in freezer.” He said with a sweet smile, putting the bus into gear and starting to drive out of their base.

“You’ll never take me alive!” Sanzu retorted after a moment, snickering to himself as Takeomi visibly winced in anger.

“Yeah, that’s the point, dumbass,” Kokonoi replied, slapping the back of Sanzu’s head with an open palm.

“Takeomiiii Koko hit meeee-”

Takeomi gripped the steering wheel with one hand, his knuckles on that hand turning white as his other hand skillfully reached for the pack of cigarettes and a lighter that laid on the center console. He plucked a stick out with his lips, throwing the pack back down and flicking the lighter to light the cigarette. He inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in for a long while as if to contemplate his current life choices, such as why in the world he ever agreed to play babysitter to a group of overgrown idiots and be their chauffeur for the day. Finally, his eyes looked into the rear-view mirror, meeting Sanzu’s mischievous cerulean ones, “Good, you deserved it.”

“Fuck off, Takeomi.” Sanzu puffed, Takeomi only turning up the music louder in a petty act of revenge.

“Look what you made him do!” The blond man shrieked in horror, everyone else on the bus, minus Kakucho and Mikey, glaring at the pink-haired offender.

“I didn’t do anything! He turned it up himself!” Sanzu defended.

“I’m rating Takeomi 1 star on Uber,” The older of the Haitani brothers joked, “Worst music choices, worst attitude, smokes in the car-”

“You can walk if you want,” Takeomi called out, “But remember, I had to carry you home after that mission because you twisted your ankle because you decided to wear those new Gucci shoes...I think you’d be too far up shit creek to stand on your own.”

Ran blushed furiously, “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

Rindou snorting and holding his sides, “Bro, that’s why you were limping that week? You said you slipped on the ice...It was your shoes?!” He wheezed.

“Oh my god, you’re absolutely hopeless, Ran….” Kokonoi facepalmed, chuckling.

“I am not. I’m reporting you to HR!” The short-haired man pouted, crossing his arms.

Sanzu snorted, “Did you mean Kakucho?” Looking over to the dark-haired man who was staring out the window, “Oh shit, he’s brooding.”

Mochi sighed, “Someone get the tissues ready.”

“Earth to Kakucho, come in to Kakucho...Return to planet earth!!” Sanzu yelled, causing Takeomi to glare at him in the rear-view mirror.

“Sanzu, that walk-in freezer has your name on it...I know a place relatively close by.” Takeomi threatened.

Turn left at the next intersection, then turn right.

“Bullshit, that’s the long way.” Takeomi hissed, throwing his cigarette out the window angrily, “Who designed this.”

“Please do not take us on another scenic route again…” Sanzu whined painfully, “It’s on the GPS for a reason. We do not need to relive the Black Dragons glory days.”

Takeomi rolled his eyes, “For your information, my glory days have nothing to do with getting us there faster.”

“Mhm...keep telling yourself that.” Sanzu replied snarkily, “Are we there yet?”

“Mikey, do you still have the duct tape in the bus?” Kokonoi perked up suddenly, clapping his hands together, “I suddenly thought of a great project for us!”

“I don’t like the sound of this project.” Sanzu objected.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll just love it.” The light-haired man reassured Sanzu, brushing his hand against his arm gently, the other retreating with disgust. Kokonoi snorted with laughter, “What, scared?”

“No, I don’t want to catch your reverse sister complex.”

Kokonoi stared at the other with his mouth wide open, Sanzu rolling his eyes in return, “I was at the Kanto Incident, don’t act like people don’t have ears when you and what’s his face were out there screaming about it….”

“Yeah, you were screaming about it, Koko.” Mochi agreed, Sanzu blinking that the man had agreed with him.

“Oh yeah, I remember that!” Ran exclaimed.

“Survey says Tenjiku remembers it Koko.” Sanzu shrugged.

“Go to hell, and stay there.” Kokonoi huffed, blowing his bangs off his face.

Sanzu crossed his arms, smirking smugly, “You’re just mad because I won.”

“Oh god, he’s crying.” Mochi whispered, nodding his head toward Kakucho, “Sanzu, you just fucking had to bring up Tenjiku, didn’t you?”

“Nice going Sanzu, that’s the 3rd time this month you did it, too.” Rindou pointed out, “I don’t think we have tissues in the fucking bus anymore.”

“Why the fuck not?!” Mochi hissed, “Oh wait….” His eyes trailing over to the elder Haitani, who was looking to the side inconspicuously.

Rindou’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his brother, “Yeah, hm, perhaps because someone decided to hop in with a fresh bullet wound….”

“Listen, it was a bad night...week...month….” He attempted in defense, each increment of time making Rindou raise his brow higher and higher, “ Year?” Finally, causing the younger brother to nod in agreement.

“Wow, Ran...it’s almost as though you’re more useless than Sanzu,” Takeomi muttered sarcastically, offended gasps resonating from both Sanzu and Ran.

“At least I know how to cook without setting the fire alarms off,” Ran spoke incredulously.

“You forgot the sprinklers too.” Rindou chimed in.

“Hey,” Sanzu spoke, turning his head to them.

“Please, let us all not forget about the time he came to a meeting to discuss the fine intricacies of how orange juice makes you taste weird after you brush your teeth,” Mochi added, shaking his head in disproval.

“I’m right here!” Sanzu yelled in a huff.

You have arrived at your destination.

“Thank fucking god,” Takeomi sighed, putting the bus in park, “Someone wake Mikey up.”

---x---

Surprisingly, the arcade was located in a relatively remote part of town compared to where Bonten typically walked their regular routes. However, this did not stop several people from staring as the rag-tag crew disembarked the converted prison bus.

“Hey, hey...who are those people…”

“They look kinda scary.….”

“Alright, so game plan time.” Sanzu began as they walked towards the doors of the arcade.

“I’ll go in, so you get the deal. However, I’ll be standing outside to smoke otherwise.” Takeomi concluded.

“What?!” Sanzu shrieked in disbelief, “No, you have to participate.”

“No, I don’t.” The scar-faced man replied coldly.

“Let it go Sanzu, Takeomi can keep watch.” Kakuchou offered, “And he needs a break too. He just drove for almost an hour.”

Takeomi nodded his head in agreement, “Couldn’t have said it better.”

Sanzu clicked his tongue in annoyance, looking over to the blond for help, “Mikey….” He pleaded in a petulant manner.

“Let him rest.” Mikey stated, “He’s been pulling overnights, too.”

Takeomi smirked towards Sanzu, who only seemed to get more aggravated as he aggressively pulled open the doors to the arcade with a loud, “Fine!”

The arcade was anything you would expect, loud, smelled a bit musty, and was vibrant beyond compare. However, there was a slight scent of cheese for some strange reason. Heading towards the counter, the eight members of Bonten cashed in for several game cards that were quickly handed to none of than Hajime Kokonoi himself.

“Wait, why me?” He asked incredulously.

“Weren’t you the one who said, oh, I don’t wanna eat instant noodles for a month ?” Sanzu mocked, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but we’re all adults here and can manage fine….” The platinum blond trailed off, looking around in a confused manner.

“Yeah, Koko, don’t be a hypocrite.”The older Haitani agreed, hands on his hips.

“Are you seriously agreeing with him?!” Koko cried in astonishment.

“Well, I think that settles it,” Sanzu said with a smirk, “You can go play like, one game or something like that.”

“Sanzu, is the word ‘nice’ in your dictionary, or did that get removed when you started your drug usage?” Kakucho asked, blinking.

Sanzu turned and looked at the other man, “I could say something right now, but it would amount to the fourth time this month.”

“Alright, let’s just get on with this shit.” Mochi finally said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, Yeah...I’m going….” Sanzu waved his hand as he walked in the other direction, likely off to find something that piqued his interest.

Ran turned to Rindou, “I wonder if they have DDR here….” He wondered aloud, his lavender eyes glancing around the area only to light up in amusement, “I see it!”

“Oh, it’s on.” Rindou smirked, “Ready for a revenge match, bro?”

“Like I’d ever miss it for the world.” Ran laughed as they both made a bee-line for the machine.

“What are you gonna, do Kakucho?” Mochi asked, turning to the jet-black-haired man.

“I’m not sure; I haven’t been to an arcade since….” He trailed off and looked to the floor.

“Get out of your head for once.” Mochi punched the other lightly in the shoulder with a grin, “Can’t stay in there forever, huh?”

Kakucho looked towards the other man and nodded, “You’re right.”

The two began walking around, attempting to find something to do in the vast array of games and activities, stopping now and then for Mochi to try something and only failing at it miserably, only to have Kakucho show Mochi how to do it properly. Eventually, both came upon a motorcycle racing game, their eyes lighting up as they used to long ago.

“Mochi?” Kakucho asked quietly, though loud enough to hear over the several kids screaming in the background.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“We’re playing this.” He declared.

“I mean, I figured when you stopped right there and were staring at it like it was some sexy chick at the strip club.” Mochi snorted, Kakucho staring at him as though he had two heads.

“Your disrespect for women is unimaginable.” He huffed as he hopped onto the motorcycle.

Mochi let out a hearty chuckle as he climbed onto the adjacent motorcycle, “Preaching respect women while in a gang that deals with prostitution,” He slid the card into the reader twice, “That’s some funny shit.”

“Oh screw, you.” Kakucho pouted as he swerved the motorcycles to select the rider, pausing over a white-haired rider and selecting them.

Mochi stared a moment, blinking at the fact Kakucho had chosen a character that looked like Izana. He shook his head and chose a random character, not exactly caring.

3...2...1...START!

“Oh fuck me, this ain’t nothin’ like the real shit.” Mochi cursed as he attempted to steer, crashing out several times with a string of curses.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about; this is pretty easy?” Kakucho replied, already in 1st place.

“How the fuck!” Mochi swore in anger, attempting to climb back into a semi-reputable position, only to realize he was in 9th place, closing in on 10th.

Kakucho tilted his body through a turn and smiled; he was having fun with this. He truly missed being able to go to the arcade with friends, with Izana. He wondered if they could do this more often...if Bonten could. He was drawn from his thoughts as Mochi swore loudly again, making him laugh, “Mochi, do you need help?”

“How the fuck are you gonna help me from there?!” The bulky man swore, now in 12th place—dead last.

“I...don’t know,” Kakucho admitted, crossing the finish line and setting a course record for the game.

“This is some ungodly level bullshit right here,” Mochi complained, trying to back himself out of an in-game ditch.

Kakucho continued watching for several minutes until Mochi finally crossed the finish line, “Well done.” He congratulated.

“Oh fuck off, enter your damn name.” The bearded man hissed in envy.

Kakucho entered his initials into the game, listed under 2nd place. He wondered who had set the 1st place record for the machine, though it was likely impossible to figure out.

His head turned when he heard a cry of frustration nearby, one that he knew...Koko?

---x---

When the group had split up earlier, Haruchiyo Sanzu had given him one rule. That was he was only allowed to play one game. Several ideas ran through his head, virtual poker, which allowed him to recoup the money they were blowing here, the weird slot machine game that looked rather promising, and then, of course, the game where you had a coin and slid it down a slot to push more coins off a ledge… All of those were lovely ideas, Kokonoi thought, that was until he landed upon a red stool in front of a screen that read Deal or No Deal. He’d heard of this reality television series before, and he knew the premise.

The blond pursed his lips as he sat down, assessing the machine. There were 16 buttons on the front labeled 1 through 16 in the shape of what looked to be briefcases. Kokonoi assumed they were to represent the motifs from the show. He sighed, figuring that, if anything, this was going to be the game for him. He slid the game card through the reader, slumping onto the stool.

Get ready to play: Deal or No Deal.

“Fuck me…” Kokonoi sighed in annoyance, watching as the said sixteen cases appeared on the screen with various ticket amounts ranging from one to five hundred. Large letters appearing stating to ‘follow the cases,’ which essentially signified you were supposed to pick the largest amount.

“Oh lovely, some RNG?” He muttered sarcastically, “It’s not like we don’t get enough of that in those gacha games kids play these days….” The cases shuffled around the screen, stopping and showing designated numbers that corresponded to the buttoned below. He thought a moment before pressing the nine button.

Choose your case...this will be your personal case.

“Yeah, I already did that-” Kokonoi hissed in annoyance, spamming one of the buttons to no avail.

You chose case number nine.

“Oh.”

Now pick five cases.

“I feel like I’m playing some fucked up lottery.” He sighed, noticing the clock and swearing under his breath as he scrambled to choose a number, “Let’s continue with the ongoing theme of my name.” He pressed the 1 button.

One.

One of the virtual women on the screen opened the case to reveal a low ticket amount, Kokonoi nodding his head in approval. He pressed the 13 button, the game echoing his choice once again to show yet another low ticket amount.

“And I thought poker was a rush.” He mused to himself, pressing the 8 button. This time, a larger amount was revealed.

“And all good things come to an end.” The light-haired man sighed as he then pressed the 15, another low.

“Back in black,” He joked, leaning back as he assessed the board for the final number, “Alright, let’s try 6.” It was a high number.

There was a ring from a telephone, causing Kokonoi to look around in confusion, only to realize it was the game, “This is such a weird game….”

That’s the bank.

“Oh good, am I getting paid?”

Here is the offer...Deal or No Deal...

A ticket amount appeared on the screen, Kokonoi’s inky eyes narrowing, “That’s it?!” He cried in frustration, hitting the NO DEAL button quickly, “I think that one gang we took out last week had a better offer for us than that.” He huffed.

Now open four cases.

“Again?” He asked incredulously, shaking his head, “Fine.” He pressed the 2 button, revealing a large amount, “Goddammit.” He thought a moment as the clock ticked down.

Hurry up.

“Oh, this game did not just tell me to hurry up.” The fair-haired man stated saltily, pressing the 16 button, low. He smirked, “See, can’t rush perfection.” He pushed the 10 button, low again.

“One more until the bank comes crawling back to me….” Kokonoi thought aloud to himself, hovering over the 14 button and then pressing it gently. Another low amount. The phone began ringing again in the game, music to Kokonoi’s ears, in all honesty.

There’s the bank again.

“Who else would it be?” Kokonoi mocked as he waited for the offer to appear on the screen.

Here’s the offer...Deal or No Deal…

Kokonoi thought a moment as the in-game clock ticked down. While this was a remarkably better offer than the last, he knew that there was still a significant chance he would be able to win big, and after all, it was an arcade. And not to mention, the bragging rights over Sanzu would give him mental clarity for the next month. With that thought, he pressed the NO DEAL button.

Now pick three cases.

Kokonoi sucked in a breath, his heart pumping, and he rubbed his hands together, “This is starting to feel like poker.” He pressed the 3 key. High. Swearing under his breath as he then pushed the 12 key high again. He stared up at the ceiling, his grand plan starting to fall apart as he looked down and pressed the 7 key, hoping for some luck. Low. Kokonoi sighed to himself as the phone rang, knowing the offer would look like garbage compared to the last, and laughing hysterically when it was less than half of what it originally was, quickly pressing the NO DEAL button as if he had never seen it.

Now open two cases.

“I don’t know if it’s good or bad, that the highest amount is still there, or that the offer they just made was so bad I wanted to leave here and never return..” Kokonoi chuckled to himself, questioning his life choices up until this point, pressing the 5 key. High. He then pressed the 4 key, also high.

“Wait...doesn’t that mean…” He stared and blinked, “I have either the 1 ticket or 500…”

The phone ringing again to make another offer, Kokonoi spamming the NO DEAL button as he came to the realization.

Now, let’s open your case.

As the in-game woman opened the case, Kokonoi leaned forward, only for the case to reveal...One ticket. Hajime Kokonoi had won, one ticket. He screamed, slamming his hands onto the machine before holding his head in his hands, staring at the floor in anguish. By now, Kakucho and Mochi had made their way over to him.

“Koko, what happened?” Kakucho asked, leaning down to attempt to make eye contact.

“I took a calculated risk...and for what.” The blond sobbed, his hand nearly tearing his hair out in frustration.

“Uh...Koko, it’s just a game.” Mochi laughed, amused by the entire situation.

“Do you think we can put a hit on Howie?” Kokonoi asked after a moment, looking up at the two of them.

“Who the fuck is Howie?” Mochi asked.

“Isn’t that the Deal or No Deal guy?” Kakucho asked, and then noticing where they were standing, “The answer is no, we are not killing someone for your petty revenge.”

Kokonoi huffed and crossed his arms, “Fine.” He looked around, “Where’s Ran and Rindou?”

“Oh, they’re with their fan club.” Mochi snorted, “Go see for yourself.”

---x---

“They really do have it, bro!” Rindou said with a huge grin, pointing towards the bright and colorful Dance Dance Revolution machine in front of them.

“Why wouldn’t they? They had it when we were growing up in Roppongi?”

“Okay, but who the fuck knows about a weird arcade Sanzu chose.”

“You speak only the truth…” Ran laughed, stepping onto the pad and sliding the card through the reader, “Oh nice, we get three songs?”

“Remember before we’d have to keep a cup of quarters on the floor, and we’d always spill it?” Rindou asked, tying his hair into a bun and joining his brother on the game’s vibrant pad.

“Yeah, and you’d always blame me for it even though you were always the one who did it!” Ran pouted, flipping through the songs and pausing on one, the music filtering through speakers as he turned to Rindou with a sinister smirk, “What was that about a revenge match?”

Rindou grinned, crossing his arms triumphantly, “I’ll gladly bust your ass at Kimagure Mercy any day.”

“Do you still remember how we do it?” Ran questioned as he selected it, sliding off his suit jacket and slinging it over the back of the railing.

“How couldn’t I.” The bun-sporting man rolled his lavender eyes, “Aren’t you the older one, gRANdpa?”

Ran’s eyebrow twitched, “I’m not above sibling punishment Rindou.”

“Oh, I’m shaking.”

The was applause from the game, signifying the song was about to start. The two brothers faced forwards, the intro starting and patterns beginning to fall down the screen. The two started to move in unison, swaying back and forth to the beat. It wasn’t until the first verse hit that what Ran mentioned began.

The Haitani brothers had begun to dance while playing Dance Dance Revolution.

Rindou glanced over to his brother, “Oh my god can you stop being such a show-off for once?” He huffed through a laugh, clapping hands with his brother to the beat.

“Please, it’s on my wiki article!” Ran cried out, “Just like you’re a big brute.” He bopped his head.

“I am not!” The younger retorted, squinting at the screen.

“Don’t mess up, Rindou!” Ran teased and purposefully pushed the other a bit in one of their claps.

“Fuck off!”

A crowd began to grow, mainly teenage girls enamored by these two men playing the game in such a spectacular way. All of them were excitedly watching as the two played, starting to ask each other questions such as “Does anyone know their names?” “Who are they?” “Do they have an Instagram?”... Eventually, when Rindou’s name was mentioned, people began to cheer for him. Naturally, this caused a significant issue for Ran Haitani.

“Hi ladies, I’m Ran~” He sang, causing them to squeal, a smirk plastered on his face, and an annoyed groan from Rindou echoing in response.

“In another life, I wonder if you were destined to be a host.” He sighed, accidentally missing the tile on the floor, “Shit!” he swore loudly.

“You see what you get, Rindou; respect your elders.” Ran snorted, the other man glaring at him from the corner of his eyes.

“When this song is over, you better run…” He whispered, “It’s over in 23...22...21…”

“I’m so old, my hearing…” He joked, Rindou nearly grabbing his hand during one of the claps and breaking it.

The song wrapped up, Ran turning around and waving to the group of girls and Rindou slouching forwards, primarily due to rage, though also due to an insatiable desire to beat his brother to a pulp in Dance Dance Revolution.

“Again.”

“Oh, you want more?” Ran asked with a lazy smirk as he waved to the “fans”.

“We have 2 more songs.” Rindou huffed, rolling his eyes, “It’s a waste of money.”

“True,” Ran nodded his head, “Let’s pick an easier song then!” He reached for the buttons only to have his hand slapped away by the younger, a dull ‘ow’ leaving his lips.

“No, we’re playing this song until I beat you. It’s that simple.” Rindou explained, hands on his hips.

“Fine, fine.” The older relented, “Don’t blame me if you can’t beat me.”

By the time Kakucho, Mochi, and Kokonoi made it over to the Haitani brothers. The crowd was sizeable. The arcade staff attempted to get the crowd to disperse, as it was becoming a fire hazard to the facility.

“Hey Ran, Rindou, what happened here?” Mochi asked as he finally made it to the front.

The two stepped off the machine and walked over to the group, Rindou grinning as the elder brother shook his head, “I reminded him who the rightful heir to the DDR throne is.”

“Please, you only beat me once.” Ran sighed in exasperation and exhaustion.

“And that still means I beat you.” The long-haired man spoke smugly.

“Wait, so that crowd...was all for you two playing a rhythm game?” Kokonoi questioned, “That’s insane.”

“I hope they don’t follow us home, or Mikey is going to have our heads,” Kakucho pondering the probability, “Then again, they might see Takeomi and get a bit scared.”

“Is he still out smoking?” Kokonoi pondered, tilting his head to see if he could see him, “I can’t see him.”

“I thought I saw him come in with Sanzu earlier?” Ran spoke up, the entire group staring at him.

“That can’t be right. Takeomi would never go with Sanzu…” The blond-haired man stated, slightly bewildered by the information.

“Oh, there he is.” The younger Haitani pointed, Takeomi wearing a shit-eating grin as he walked back outside, the entire group then spotting a pissed-off Sanzu.

---x---

Sanzu was officially bored. He thought that coming to the arcade would be an excellent way to spend some time away from things, though it only seemed to create more issues. What was worse was everyone else seemed to be doing their own thing, so there was no one left to mess with or bother. After an hour of wandering around and playing several games that held his attention for a few minutes or less, he set his sights on a bigger and better prize: Akashi Takeomi.

Yes, in actuality Akashi Takeomi was dangerous. He likely could kidnap Sanzu as he slept, lock him in a freezer, and then feed him to the fish...Though where was the fun in not messing with someone like that? He smirked to himself as he walked outside to see the scar-faced man unsurprisingly smoking.

“Ew, how many have you smoked today?” Sanzu spoke, holding his nose in mock disgust.

Takeomi didn’t even look at him, “Half a pack, give or take.”

“Smoking’s bad for you, y’know.”

“Drugs are too, but you don’t see me trying to give you a 12-step lecture.” Takeomi retorted dryly, Sanzu cackling in response.

“I gotta hand it to ya. That one was funny.” The pink-haired man pointing to the other.

“What exactly do you want?”

Sanzu clasped his hands together, “Dearest Takeomi, you’ve been out here for over an hour...I think it’s about time you came inside and actually enjoyed what we came here for.”

“No.” He replied with a laugh, “Nice try though, really love the theatrics...maybe we can get you a job with the prostitutes.”

Sanzu groaned, “Can you stop being a stick in the mud for once and be fun?”

Takeomi felt something inside him snap. Honestly, he just wanted to sit outside and smoke. He wanted not to have to deal with a specific pink-haired buffoon who continued to ruin his Saturdays over and over each week. Instead, however, he turned to the other man with a sickly sweet smile, throwing his cigarette onto the ground and crushing it under his shoe, “Sure, Sanzu, I’ll play one game...let’s go.”

“Really!” Sanzu’s face lit up with excitement, “Okay, let’s go!”

As they entered the arcade, Sanzu and Takeomi walked around a moment, regret beginning to wash over the older as his head began to pound from the noise and light.

“So, what do you want to play.” The pink-haired man asked, tipping his head to meet the other’s gaze.

“I don’t know, and I haven’t been to an arcade in fuck all knows.” Takeomi hissed, rubbing his temples, “Can you make it quick?”

“Jeez, I didn’t know they made you when the dinosaurs still walked the planet.” Sanzu grumbled, “Let’s go for a shooter then.” The two of them walking towards a Western-style shooting game that had plastic guns.

“Why am I not surprised.” The dark-haired man breathed, shaking his head.

“What? Sorry, I’m good at what I’m good at?” Sanzu mocked, shrugging his shoulders, “Anyways, it’s pretty self-explanatory...aim, pull the trigger, boom.”

Takeomi smirked. What Sanzu didn’t know was, he knew how to play this game. He knew far too well how to play this game because, during his days as a Brahma captain, Senju and himself would often sit in arcades and play. Sanzu Haruchiyo had sentenced himself to an early grave with this one, no matter how good a shot he was.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” The pink-haired man nodding his head towards the machine.

“I’m broke; you pay for it.”

“How the fuck are you broke if you- Nevermind.” Sanzu started, shaking his head and sliding his game card through the reader, “Let’s settle this.”

The older stepped up to the gallery, picking up the model gun and testing the weight in his hands before settling on a position.

Ready...Start!

Enemies started popping onto the screen, Sanzu quickly shooting the targets that were his color. He thought to himself it would be easy to best the older man until he realized he was keeping pace, and his score was already twice his based on the accuracy bonus.

“Hey, hey, hey…” Sanzu started, beginning to get ruffled by the sudden turn of events.

“What is it Sanzu, maybe you should aim a bit better, or is that too difficult?” Takeomi replied cooly as he blasted the head off of a zombie, “Oh, that was a good one.”

“Are you shitting me?” He cried out in response, “You actually know how to play this?” Sanzu was aiming for one of the enemy bonuses. However, he missed miserably. He swore under his breath, much to Takeomi’s delight.

“It’s been a good oh, what did you call it...era.” He mused as they made it to the boss level, “But for someone as young as you, this must be easy, right?” His voice dripping with poison.

“There’s still the boss level. I can-” He looked at the scores, feeling the color drain out of his face.

“What was that, Sanzu? My old deaf ears can’t hear you over the sound of your absolute thrashing.” He chuckled, “But don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll recover in time to hear you cry.”

“Do we just need to get you a nicotine drip? I don’t think the patch is gonna cut it with you.” Sanzu groaned, “Or, do you want one of my pills? Those might take your edge off too.”

“Take the joke, Sanzu,” He sighed, the game finishing out and Takeomi writing his initials in the records list, “Have a good time trying to beat that, though.” The older smirking, patting the other on the back as he walked towards the entrance, shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he pulled out another cigarette from his ever-dwindling pack.

Sanzu stared at the score in disbelief. He couldn’t beat that score today. He would have to come back another day to beat it, but he would beat it, no matter what. He stomped his foot in frustration, only to notice the entire Bonten group was looking, sans Mikey. He blinked and did what any person with an IQ between 85 and 115 would do...make a break for the food court before he could be harassed.

---x---

Was this the main reason Mikey agreed to this excursion? He didn’t want to admit to it. However, when the flyer said they had six different types of taiyaki in the featured food court, Mikey was sold instantly on the idea, as embarrassing as it was. He quietly walked towards the counter, scanning the menu with his pitch-black eyes only to discover there were, in fact, now eight taiyaki options. He smiled softly to himself as the person operating the counter looked on in confusion at the strange man in front of them, “Can I help you?” The food court employee asked him, tilting their head to the side slightly.

“Taiyaki, all of them,” Mikey said, sliding a large bill onto the counter.

“Do you mean all of the kinds or...all of them, all of them.” The employee clarified, thinking to themselves.

His eyes lit up, “I can have all of them?” He asked.

“As long as you pay for them, I don’t see why not...It might take a bit, though, because we warm them in an oven, so they get kinda crispy.” The employee explained, noticing the glimmer in his eyes.

“All of them, then.” Mikey clarified, adding another bill on the counter.

“Do I know you from somewhere, though?” They asked as they handed him his change, causing Mikey to pause for a brief moment.

“I haven’t ever met you before.” He replied, walking to one of the tables and sitting in the uncomfortably hard seating. It was nearly impossible to take a nap here due to how loud and bright it was, as well as how unbearable some of the smells were...Who honestly authorized it to smell like nacho cheese? Though, he also realized he was in a food court. Slouching down into the chair, he wondered what the rest of his gang had decided to put their minds to that day. He assumed Sanzu had found something involving guns and roped Takeomi into it as well, smirking because he knew that Takeomi had played before. Kokonoi had likely found something involving money, and The Haitani brothers honestly were talking up a storm about Dance Dance Revolution before they even arrived. Mochi and Kakucho were the two members of the group he wasn’t quite too sure about. He made a mental note to ask Kakucho when they boarded the bus again later that day.

“Alright, here are the first few, careful though, because they’re extremely hot.” The employee warned, setting a tray in front of the light-haired man, “I’ll keep them coming.”

Mikey reached forward and grabbed one of them, mentally noting that his hand was burning, though not exactly caring as the gratification of the taiyaki was going to be worth it in half a second. He bit in and leaned back in bliss. He was elated as he continued to eat through the pile of confections, completely losing track of time. He inwardly began to feel that the Russian death metal car ride from hell was worth it, and so was having to deal with Sanzu complaining about everything. And so was-

“Mikey, are you okay?”

He wanted to snap his neck.

Sanzu stared at the fair-haired man, who looked as though he had passed out in his chair, only for him to lean back up with a menacing stare slowly, “I’m fine.” He said coldly, taking another angry bite of the taiyaki.

“O...Oh…” The pink-haired man replied, nodding his head nervously as he backed away, “That’s a lot of taiyaki there.” He pointed towards the ever-growing pile of confections.

“I know. They’re mine.” Mikey responded as he finished the first, licking his lips and picking up another, “Where is everyone else?” He questioned as he bit into the sweet and bitter flavor of matcha.

“I saw them a couple of minutes ago; they’ll probably be here in a minute...Takeomi is smoking.” He informed the other, omitting the absolute ass-kicking he had received.

As if on cue, the group walked into the food court; however, the mood quickly changed as Kokonoi held up his phone, “We need to go, one of Ran’s fangirls posted them on their Instagram; and we need to get out of here, now .” His eyes narrowing.

“Why are we blaming my fangirl for this? They’re just as much of Rindou’s as mi-OW” Ran once again getting elbowed in the side by his brother.

“We wouldn’t be in this mess if you didn’t name drop both me and yourself, so now you’re really more useless than Sanzu!” Rindou scolded him, “And you’re supposed to be older than me!”

“I’m RIGHT here!” Sanzu replied, raising his hands in exasperation.

“Cry me a river Sanzu, oh wait-” Mochi snorted, laughing at his own joke.

Kakucho grinned, “Mochi, that was surprisingly good coming from you.”

“I know, right. I surprise even myself sometimes.” The brawny man beamed.

“I hate all of you.” Sanzu huffed, crossing his arms.

“We hate you too; now let’s get going before we have to shoot our way out of a fucking arcade?” The long-haired blond replied in a haughty tone, motioning for the exit.

“Mikey, get a to-go box,” Kakucho suggested to the blond sitting at the table, eyeing the remaining taiyaki sadly.

“I’ll leave them.”

“Shotgun!” Sanzu yelled as they exited the arcade, Takeomi making eye contact with him and shaking his head.

“There isn’t even a passenger seat. What are the drugs hitting you that hard?” Kokonoi questioned him with a laugh.

“I’m assuming the cops are coming then?” Takeomi asked as he fished the keys to the bus out of his pocket, starting to walk with the group.

“ Oh yeah, Ran and Rindou are Instagram famous; Koko show him.” Mochi snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Why is it always...fine.” He attempted to argue as he pulled up the post on his phone, revealing a video with nearly 500 likes and 130 comments.

“Wait, I didn’t see it yet!” Ran yelled as he ran over to Kokonoi, smushing his head in to see, “Wow, I look good… Rindou does, too, of course.”

“Shut the fuck up, you cretaceous period cretin.” Rindou hissed, flipping him off from afar only to have Ran run after him.

“Stop running in the parking lot!” Kakucho yelled, shaking his head, “I swear to god…”

“You have to admit, though, it was a good time.” Mochi stated with a smile, “We should do this again.”

“Alright, everyone, get on the fucking bus, or I’m leaving without you,” Takeomi yelled, hopping into the driver’s seat.

“And who died and made you king?!” Sanzu yelled only to smack his head on the roof while boarding the bus, causing Mikey to snort from a laugh uncharacteristically.

“Wait, did Mikey just laugh?” Kokonoi asked, genuinely amazed.

“I made Mikey laugh!” Sanzu cheered, patting himself on the back.

“Wow, if only we could hurt you more...then maybe we could restore all of his emotions…” Takeomi whispered to himself.

“What was that?” Sanzu questioned, leaning forward.

“No, nope, nothing.” Takeomi lied badly.

“That’s what I thought,” Sanzu replied with a smile, sitting back in his seat, Takeomi groaning and reaching for his pack of cigarettes only to realize there weren’t any left. He sighed heavily, leaning back into the cushion of the driver’s seat and staring up at the tattered ceiling. It was going to be a long drive home, huh.

---x---

In Toyko, the conflict with a group named “Bonten” intensifies...However, they seem to have a soft side too…

It was once again a Wednesday, except this week Sanzu Haruchiyo was on time, and there were no off-topic discussions. Instead, all that was discussed was saving Bonten from the PR nightmare the Haitani brothers had created for the gang. And, of course, the now planned hit on Howie Mandel. However, the damage was done, and the gang’s reputation seemed to go from “dangerous and deadly” to “upcoming idol group.” However, Mikey didn’t seem too troubled by it, though it wasn’t exactly possible to tell what he thought until it was too late.

Takeomi sighed as he once again lit a cigarette, staring off into the distance, “Here’s to another fucking Wednesday.”

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wherethewordsare · 4 years ago

Text

Birds of a Feather

For @notsafeformurphy who was having a day of it the other day and we got to talking and.... oops this happened. This honestly started out as a nature docu au and ended up a coffee shop au? Idk man.... Anyway, Shay I hope you enjoy this!

Also tagging @herostag since it was requested. and @jaskierswolf cause I think they’re gonna start yelling at me if i keep forgetting. Going to try to get my tag list back together if anyone is interested. <3 <3 <3 Hope yall enjoy Jaskier huffed as he flopped over again, his body refusing to just relax down into his mattress and let him sleep. It had been a stressful day and to make matters worse, it had been the third night in a row where he was simply unable to sleep.

Giving up, he reached for his phone, scrolling through youtube for a moment, looking for something that he could just zone out to for a little while. Usually he would put on music or white noise but even that didn’t seem like it would be helpful. He had to find something extremely dull and maybe a bit pretty.

He scrolled past a thumbnail of three large men in park uniforms. Two of them looked like they were at least somewhat interested in being there while one tall man with near white hair simply scowled at the camera.

Wild Wednesdays with the Rivia Nature Reserve the title read.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Jaskier huffed as he rolled onto his stomach. He pulled the kickstand of his phone case out and set it up before pressing play and curling his arms around his pillow.

“This week, we’ll be talking to Geralt Rivia, our resident raptor specialist about what goes into rehabilitation efforts when it comes to conservation,” someone said off camera, cheerily. When the camera panned to Geralt Rivia however, he did not seem to share the narrator’s same upbeat tone.

For a few minutes, the narrator off camera seemed to try to ask Geralt about himself, only getting stilted answers and that same scowl that had been in the thumbnail. Jaskier snorted with a smirk.

“You’re not having any of this, are you? You’re gorgeous though,” he chuckled. He felt his back relax as he yawned, snuggling closer into his pillow.

And then it happened. From off camera, someone handed Geralt a leather glove that he put on easily before taking a cord. He clicked a bit and the scowl he had moments ago melted into a fond smile.

“And who is this?” the narrator asked. They clearly had picked up on the shift in Geralt’s demeanor as a small falcon took up perch on his forearm.

He actually cooed at the bird for a moment before holding it up for the camera. “This is Roach. She’s one of our recent rescues.” He smiled, a barely there tilt of his lips and his honey colored eyes softened. Jaskier got the impression on anyone else, it would have been a full grin.

“Oh, I like that look,” Jaskier murmured, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“And what is Roach?” the person asked off camera.

Geralt took a step back, turning his arm slightly, causing the bird to flap agitatedly at him as she kept her balance. “Yes, I know, but I have to show off how pretty you are,” he said to the bird, fond and warm.

“Oh no,” Jaskier whispered into his pillow. “He’s soft and hot.”

“Roach here is a red-tailed hawk. They’re pretty common through North America,” he explained, pointing out the red-brown of her tail. The hawk nipped at him as he got her to open her wings for the camera and he only chuckled. “She’s about six, the same age as my daughter actually. And,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “I’ll be honest with you, I’m not sure which one is less well behaved.”

Roach must have understood a bit of that because she gave a cry before nipping at Geralt’s hair, clearly annoyed.

“Listen, if you weren’t so hornery, I wouldn’t say it,” he said to Roach, pulling another scowl but there was clearly no heat in it.

This was not the same man from the thumbnail or the same man that barely gave answers about himself at the beginning of the clip. When that bird sat on his arm, he lit up and Jaskier was weak.

Geralt answered a few other questions about hawks and about the reserves program for rehabbing hawks, his voice deep and gravely. He would have sounded gruff if not for how much he clearly loved what he did.

Geralt looked at Roach a little sadly. “Unfortunately for our little lady here, she won’t be able to return to the wild. Due to her injuries when she came to us, she won’t be able to hunt on her own,” he gave her a soft smile before he petted down her neck gently.

Jaskier’s eyes were starting to feel heavy. He had turned into the pillow, letting Geralt’s voice wash over him with simple facts about red-tail hawks as he drifted off to sleep. It hadn’t been dull at all but there was something about the way Geralt spoke that just melted him into his mattress.

When he woke, his phone was dead, probably from being set to autoplay. As it charged, he looked at the videos that had played while he was asleep, most of them from the Rivia Nature Reserve. There were a few specials with other team members but Jaskier picked out the ones that mentioned Geralt Rivia directly.

It had become a near routine and soon, Jaskier found that he just slept better after watching those nature clips. Sometimes, Geralt wasn’t even on camera, simply walking through the process of population counting for the reserve as the camera panned around to different birds up in the trees. There were other videos featuring Roach the red-tailed hawk as well and it was clear that she was a favorite, not only of Geralt’s but the viewers as well.

Within three weeks, Jaskier had made his way through nearly the whole catalog of the reserve’s videos. He knew he would move on from tall, silver and brooding and find his next sleep fix but for now he simply enjoyed it.

He should have said no, he should have mentioned that he simply did not do morning shifts, and there was a reason for that, but Essi had been persistent, almost feral about him taking her shift.

“Please, Jask. I promise, you won’t regret it!” She grinned at him and there was something in her eyes that sent up a dozen red flags.

“What are you plotting?” He asked flatly, squinting at her over his glass of wine.

“Not a thing, darling, just trust me on this,” she giggled, sipping her own wine neatly.

It hadn’t been a terrible morning, though Jaskier was barely managing to stay upright by the the coffee grinder. He was used to staying up long nights and it hadn’t changed anything when he knew he would have to open.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

I know you mentioned he had a kid, but he’s single. You’re gonna want to put a blueberry muffin in right now.

He blinked at his phone, squinting as he tried to decode just what the fuck Essi was saying.

What?

But he put in the blueberry muffin, his phone on the counter as he watched the three little dots dance where Essi was texting back.

You still owe me a no questions.

“What the fuck is she even-” Jaskier heard the bell above the door just as he set the timer for the oven.

“-and so I tell him that if he isn’t going to at least make an attempt to clear out the back trails, we’re going to find a new contractor.” Came a voice behind him.

Jaskier froze, his hand on his phone. He nearly threw it in a panic. He recognized that voice. He’d recognize that voice in the dark, though to be fair, he usually listened to it in the dark.

He glanced over his shoulder and sure enough, Geralt Rivia was standing at his counter with two others from the nature reserve.

“Be with you in just a minute!” he tried for cheery and landed firmly in panicked. He ducked behind the large coffee machine and shot a text back to Essi.

I haven’t decided on whether or not I love you more than anything or if I’m ever going to

speak to you again!

Have fun! ;)

That bitch. It had been a setup! He adored her, the meddling little sneak. He schooled his face the best he could, knowing full well that his ears were still the color of the strawberry frap they served.

“Morning, what can I get you guys?” He asked as he wet his lips, trying not to stare right into Geralt’s gorgeous face.

“Three coffees, a blueberry muffin warmed up and a plain bagel, untoasted,” Geralt said offhandedly as he looked around. “No Essi today?”

“Uh, no. I’m filing in this morning. Jaskier, at your service.” As he dipped his head in a mock bow he internally cursed himself. One day, one normal day, that was all he asked for. “Hope the bagel isn’t for Roach. I’m not sure she’d like it. How is she? We haven’t seen her much recently?” He shot off without thinking as he started to pour the coffees. He froze again as his brain caught up with his mouth.

Behind Geralt, both of the men snorted. “Looks like you’ve got a fan, pretty boy,” the darker haired one jostled Geralt’s shoulder with a smirk.

Geralt only stood there, tilting his head slightly as though he wasn’t sure what had just happened.

“Ah, I mean…” Jaskier fumbled, nearly spilling one of the coffees down his own front.

“She’s doing fine actually,” there was a soft smile on his face, the same he wore when he got to handle the birds directly and Jaskier could feel himself melt on the spot. “Naughty as ever. Learned a new trick to take a swipe at Lambert here if he’s holding the feed bucket,” there was a low rumble of a chuckle.

The dark haired one behind Geralt stopped laughing abruptly. “She’s a menace.” He growled, picking up his own coffee from the counter.

Behind Jaskier, the oven dinged. “Oh and your muffin!” He turned, letting himself have the moment his back was to them to silently scream. He had been tricked! He had been set up! He was going to try to get this man’s number and he would never hear the end of it.

“You already had it in?” Geralt asked, that smile still in place.

“What can I say, we make sure to take care of our favorite customers.” He was almost proud of himself at how smoothly that had come out as he turned to look back at Geralt. He should have been paying attention to the muffin as it dropped, missing the bag completely and splatting on the floor.

“Fuck,” Jaskier nearly cried. “I am so sorry. Give me, just a moment, I’ll get another one in for you.”

He watched as Geralt ducked his head, smirking. “Would you like to meet her?” He gave another tilt of his head, his eyes clearly looking Jaskier up and down.

He was sure he had died. This wasn’t real. This was the good place. Or the bad place. Either way, this place was the place his soul had clearly left his body. He stood there, cold muffin in hand as he gaped at Geralt.

“Uh-”

“You don’t,” Geralt cleared his throat, “I was just wondering since you seemed… to be a… fan.” His face slipped into a scowl and no. No that wouldn’t do at all.

“I would love to, yeah. I’m off at three?”

“Oh! Jaskier! Thank you for coming in to open. I can take it from here,” Essi slipped in beside him, taking the muffin from his hand. “Morning, Dr. Rivia,” she nearly sang, her face smug.

“Dead. You’re very very dead when I see you again,” Jaskier whispered to her though he couldn’t stop grinning.

“So you were saying?” Geralt asked, leaning against the counter.

“Turns out, I’m free as a bird, you’d say.” Jaskier chuckled as he slipped his apron off and made his way around the counter.

Geralt snorted and rolled his eyes but took his coffee and muffin from Essi. “You know that phrase ‘eat like a bird’ is really not that good of a way of saying that someone doesn’t eat much?”

Behind them, Lambert scoffed. “Here we fucking go again. I said I was sorry for bringing it up!”

Later that afternoon he found himself wearing a glove similar to the one he had first seen Geralt in, a small tawny owl bobbing on his arm as he looked on in wonder. He had met Roach and she had nipped at his hair and shirt, screeching when food wasn’t produced.

“Hmm, let’s get Scorpion. He won’t tear you to shreds,” Geralt gave Roach a fond little tap on her wing with the back of his fingers.

By the end of the day he left with a few knicks in his fingers and a phone number. He had never slept better.

#geraskier #modern #ecologist geralt #cause always #roach is a hawk #meet cute #jaskier is a disaster #but we love him anyways #witcher fanfiction #this is... a mess #and i am so sorry

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alinastracker · 3 years ago

Note

If you’re still doing the prompts I have oneeeee hehe

" i mean... i-i'm cool with sharing the bed if you are. "

you got it baby 🥰

but i know something’s starting right now

It’s a sweltering Ravkan summer day, but nothing brings heat to her body like watching Mal in the pool, water droplets racing down his chest. His shaggy hair is a mop on his head, and she realizes this is what he must look like in the shower.

This is exactly why she didn’t want to bring him on the trip.

It’s the first week of July, and for the past three years, that’s meant a trip to the Os Alta Resort with Genya and Zoya. It’s a way for them to relax after exams and catch up now that they all attend different schools. But at the end of May, the two of them had FaceTimed her about a change for this year.

“We were thinking of taking the boys with,” Genya says gently, nervous for her reaction.

Zoya is frank as ever. “It’s cheaper that way. Besides, after all this long distance, I could use a week of uninterrupted fuc—”

“Zoya!”

“Relax, Starkov. We’re all adults here.”

“Anyway,” Genya cuts in. “We’re just telling you in case you wanted to bring someone, too. Maybe Mal?”

“Mal and I aren’t dating.”

Only in her dreams.

“Might as well be,” Zoya mutters.

So in the choice between bringing Mal on what has basically turned into a couple’s retreat and going to said couple’s retreat alone, she’s chosen the former. It would be fine. Mal knows her friends. Him and Nikolai like to talk sports. Maybe it’ll be a little weird, being the only non-couple, but they could deal.

It would have been fine, if it weren’t for this morning’s check in.

"So it looks like we have you booked for three single rooms," the concierge says.

Alina frowns. "One of those should be a double."

The concierge checks again, each click of his mouse making her anxiety rise. He frowns. "Sorry, miss. It's showing me all singles."

"It's fine," Mal says. "Could we just upgrade it to a double, then?"

"Er, I'm afraid we're all booked, sir."

Nikolai claps his hands together, cheerful as ever at Zoya's side. "Well, I'll just switch with Alina, and Mal and I can — shit, Zoy!"

Zoya had stomped on his foot.

"We are not switching shit," she hisses under her breath.

Nikolai sighs. "My deadly dearest, certainly it's no big deal—"

"I bought us a new toy for this trip. We are not switching."

There is a brief moment where everyone freezes, then Genya groans, shaking her head as she murmurs apologies to the concierge, who is trying hard to pretend he hasn’t heard a thing. The tips of Mal's ears go red, and Alina is sure hers match. David, lost in his audiobook, is oblivious to all of it.

Nikolai clears his throat and turns to the two of them with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, mate. You're on your own."

The concierge slowly raises a finger and says, "We might be able to supply a cot?"

Alina can feel everyone's eyes on her, which is the last thing she ever wants. She has the strong desire to curl in on herself, but that only really works in the winter when she dons large coats and sweaters. But it’s summer, and she is in only a mustard yellow crop top and jean shorts, though she suddenly feels as exposed as if she were completely naked.

Mal takes one look at her and gently nudges his foot against hers. "I mean . . . I'm cool with sharing the bed if you are?"

Her brain is looking for anyway out of this whole conversation, so she nods.

So far, they have been in their room once to drop off their things and change into bathing suits, both of them dancing around the bed without ever touching it. The air in the room feels charged even with sunlight still pouring in. What would tonight be like?

More importantly, how was she supposed to handle sleeping beside him when she can’t even handle watching him in the pool?

Genya climbs on Mal’s shoulders for a game of chicken — David is, unsurprisingly, not in the pool, but sitting beside Alina on a lounge chair. She feels a pang of something like jealousy as she watches the game commence, which cannot be more ridiculous.

They can’t avoid the night forever, and it comes much too quickly despite how long they spend mingling at the resort bar. In their room, Mal lets Alina use the bathroom first. A kind offer, she thinks, until she realizes it leaves her to stake out a spot on the bed first. No more dancing.

Left side or right? Does Mal have a preference? Does she? How long until Mal finishes in the bathroom and comes out to see her staring at the bed like a mental person?

Right side, she chooses finally. She curls up on the left side of her body usually, so this way, she doesn’t have to face him as they sleep. Good call. As she untucks the covers from the bed, she secretly hopes to find something horrifying, like blood or bugs, so they can get a refund and leave. Sadly, it is a perfectly fine bed. Alina plops onto it and tucks herself in.

Mal finishes in the bathroom a few minutes later, and if he’s as rattled about their sleeping arrangement as she is, he does not show it. There’s plenty of space between them as he settles into bed. Maybe this won’t be as bad as she feared.

“Well, goodnight,” Mal says through a yawn.

“Goodnight,” Alina replies.

They each turn off their bedside lamps. Mal is softly snoring soon after, but Alina stays awake much too long for her liking, thinking of how close he is.

They fall into a similar routine for the next couple nights. During the day, all is fine. Their little group meshes well. Genya and Nikolai are often off together, both of them on a mission, it seems, to try every flavor of ice cream from Os Alta's ice cream bar. Or sometimes it’s Nikolai and Mal running off, joining a game of pool volleyball, both of them stupidly competitive. When Zoya gets annoyed with the overload of children at the waterpark, she joins David on one of the lounge chairs to read for a while — Zoya a smutty historical romance and David a nonfiction on modern space travel. We just shouldn't let Jeff Bezos come back, he argues to Genya later, while Zoya murmurs to Nikolai something she wants him to do to her that night.

Alina thanks the saints her room isn’t next to Zoya’s.

The trip is going so smoothly that she doesn’t realize what trouble Sunday brings with it. It’s always their favorite part of the trip: bottomless margarita night. They all have absolutely horrific, hilarious pictures and videos of themselves from the past three years thanks to bottomless margarita night at Os Alta. But the thought of being drunk like that while she’s sharing a bed with Mal?

Okay, so she just won’t drink tonight. Problem solved.

“You can’t not drink!” Zoya says, personally offended.

“Come on, it’s tradition!” Genya agrees.

But she’s determined to hold out. Only when she sees the others with their drinks, she decides one sip won’t hurt. One sip becomes one drink, and one drink becomes a couple. Soon enough, she’s drunk enough to sign herself up for karaoke, another Os Alta tradition.

“I dunno what I should siiiing,” she slurs, swaying lightly on her feet.

“I have the perfect song for you!” Genya cheers excitedly.

So that’s how she ends up on stage, drunk off her ass, horridly singing Taylor Swift’s We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together. She really gets into it, jumping and nailing the talking parts a little too well. But she can hear Genya and Zoya screaming the lyrics along with her, and it only encourages her.

Genya records a Snapchat of her performance, snickering to Mal and David about how she’s going to accidentally send it to the asshole Alina dated last year who’s still entirely too obsessed with her.

Nikolai is the only one of the boys drunk enough to sign up, taking the stage after Alina to perform a disgustingly off-key version of Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now. They all agree that Freddie Mercury is rolling in his grave.

By the end of the night, the four of them are totally wasted. David, who had spent the night nursing one drink, his focus on getting Genya her drinks and ensuring that she didn’t trip over herself, has to help the aforementioned redhead up to their room. Nikolai and Zoya are a sight, both wickedly drunk, trying to help each other stay upright. Mal had only downed a couple drinks and is mostly sober, which Alina is very thankful for, as she can’t hold herself up to save her life. She nearly trips on absolutely nothing so many times that Mal finally scoops her into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way to the room. Alina giggles the whole way.

There’s no getting ready for bed that night. Mal sets her on the bed, and she resigns to sleeping in her red summer dress. When Mal joins her after having a shower, drunk Alina has no qualms curling up against him and sniffing him.

“Mm, you smell good,” she hums.

Mal chuckles even as he tenses. Alina has her arm around him and her face pressed into his side. He’s not sure he can breathe. She’s too drunk to notice the blush on his face.

“That’s probably just because you smell like alcohol,” he hedges.

Alina giggles and shakes her head. “No, you always smell good.”

He doesn’t know what to do with this information, but he does a lot of thinking instead of sleeping as Alina passes out next to him.

Monday morning brings with it a pounding headache for Alina. She prepares for the bright sunlight streaming through the window, but the room is dark when she opens her eyes. Mal isn’t beside her, but he left aspirin and a glass of water on the nightstand in addition to pulling out the blackout curtains. She falls in love with him a little bit more.

The day is a quiet one. The girls and Nikolai spend their time at the spa, Mal and David off doing saints know what. She gets the best massage of her life, and while her head still aches despite the pain pill, seeing Nikolai get his toenails painted bright red makes every sip she had last night worth it.

When they’re in the room again after dinner, tucking themselves into bed, Mal says, “You told me I smell good last night.”

Alina pauses. “I did?”

The night comes back to her. She totally told him he smelled good, and she had closed the space between them on the bed, curling up right next to him. She remembers all of it, suddenly and painfully.

“Oh, saints. Mal, I’m so sorry. I didn’t . . . I shouldn’t have—”

He cuts her off. “It’s okay, ‘Lina. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I don’t?”

Mal smiles an amused smile and leans over, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “No, you don’t. Not you. Never you.”

Alina is almost positive she can hear her heart pounding as Mal reaches for something tucked in the drawer of his nightstand.

“For you,” he says, handing her a long rectangular box. “Saw it today when I was out with David and I just— I thought of you.”

She can’t even process the image of Mal and David out shopping together, needing to open this damn box. With shaky fingers, she lifts the lid. Waiting for her inside is a dainty necklace with a gorgeous gold sun charm.

“Oh,” she says softly.

Mal blushes, and this time, Alina notices. “Do you like it?” he asks. “I just thought of you singing last night when I saw it. You’re so bright, Alina. All the time. Just like the sun.”

She has no idea what this confession means, or how she earned it from drunkenly telling him how good he smells — which his really quite good — but her heart has kicked into overdrive. She isn’t sure what, or how, but she knows something’s starting right now.

“I love it, Mal.” She turns so her back is facing him and hands over the necklace. “Will you help me put it on?”

He wraps the chain around her neck. The sun rests perfectly against her heart. She notices every little brush of his fingers against the back of her neck as Mal works the clasp.

When the necklace is secure, they both lay back down, noticeably closer this time. Not as close as last night, but close enough that their arms occasionally brush, close enough that she’ll end up kicking him during the night. Alina sleeps on her right side.

Their trip might be ending tomorrow, but something better was beginning tonight.

#malina #malina fanfic #fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #writing #my writing #THIS IS DAYS LATE BUT I KEPT STARTING THIS OVER BC I WASNT HAPPY WITH IT #also tried writing in present tense which i rarely write in so excuse if it's a mess lmao #short and sweet and not my best imo but i hope u still like it bb!!#cuddlingwithharry #if u spot the song reference (besides the obvious) u r superior

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 4 years ago

Text

Sleepy Sex Part 12 - Liam (Nikita)

A/N: I’ll be honest I had no idea who Liam was and then my darling friend @yespolkadotkitty sent me the link to @dornish-queen video of Liam and I read her story and then like the next day @artemiseamoon wrote a Liam story and I was like ok I can do this now! You should check them out because they are amazing! Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting and liking.

Pairing: Liam x F! Reader

Warnings: 18 + NSFW (Oral (language, F! Receiving, P in V sex, angst, major character death, gunshot wound, cauterizing a wound, mentions of blood)

Word Count: 2.2K this is the longest of the Sleepy Sex series I have written

My Masterlist

The dinner was cold, the candles had flickered out, and you sat dejected on the couch working through the second half of the wine bottle. The television flickered across your face, but the sound was muted. Reaching for the remote, you flicked it off and let out a large yawn, downing the remainder of your glass. You should clean up the mess, put away the leftovers, shower, change your clothes, but your energy was depleted. The hours of waiting for him to come only to be disappointed again was heartbreaking.

You knew who and what he was, but it still didn't lessen the blow each time you wound up disappointed and alone. You kick the door closed behind you and approach the bed peeling back the covers and crawling in. You clutch his pillow close to your face and inhale, but no trace of him is there anyone, just the fresh linen and lavender of your detergent. Liam never left any imprint. There were no photos of him in your home, no extra clothes, or a favorite mug. He was a ghost. He had to be for the life he lived.

No one could know about him either. Your friends, family, colleagues, everyone thought you were going to end up alone, even you thought that yourself most of the time. His work was dangerous; he'd admitted that to you one night after you both realized it was becoming more. More than two people who fucked each other's pain away, more than two people who had an occasional meal together. Just more.

Liam wasn't one to put a label on things, but you knew you were his person, just as he was yours. The altogether fact making it more gut-wrenching every time he snuck out in the early morning on your fire escape without waking you. The ghost of a kiss on your forehead before you could even open your eyes.

You feel the tears stream down your cheek, and you bite your knuckles hard to prevent the sobs from overtaking. You loved him. You loved a ghost. Eventually, your tears subside enough for you to enter a restless sleep, continually tossing and turning. You dream of the life you want with Liam, something stable and normal. A life where the man you love is not a cold-blooded murderer. You barely hear the sound of the window opening over your tumultuous thoughts.

You keep your eyes shut tight and reach towards the nightstand where you know the knife is hidden. Liam had gotten it for you after he told you what he did, never wanting anyone to harm you because of his life. He'd taught you how to use it, sharpen, clean, and conceal it. The hilt is light in your hand, and you drag it beneath the pillow.

It could be Liam, you know, but the odds of it being someone else with nefarious intent enters your mind. The bed dips behind you, and you strike quickly. Your arm swinging low to slice open the belly of your possible attacker. Liam's voice ringing in your ears, "aim for an artery or the belly; they will bleed out faster that way."

"Fuck," Liam's voice hisses as he shoots back off the bed and meets your wild gaze. He flicks on the light on the nightstand and looks down at you. Knife poised in your hands the way he taught you and lip between your teeth, hair wild, and panting. "I don't know whether I should be proud or concerned that you almost stabbed me." You put the knife back into the nightstand, and he lowers his hands from the defensive pose.

"You could use the door, you know, like a normal person." He smiles at your annoyed tone and finishes removing his shirt as he had started. You reach forward and place a hand on his torso, "What's this?" Your fingers graze the gauze pad held on with tape, and he sighs.

"I got shot," he says it so casually, like someone telling you about a paper cut at the office.

"What?" Your voice is hollow, and he pulls your hands off him and sits down beside you. "What do you mean you got shot? How could you let someone get that close?"

"Y/N, it's a part of my job. Sometimes people get hurt at work." You feel the rage rise up in your chest, and you pull your hands away from him like a burn.

"You don't have a normal job, Liam. You are an assassin; you kill people. An accident at work for you could be your death. You don't make mistakes, ever. Now tell me what happened?" He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, and scoots back to lay against the headboard.

"It was nothing. Just some old friends who wanted to say hello. Don't worry about it."

You scoff, letting out an unamused chuckle. "Don't worry about it...how can you even say that?" You stand up and pace the floor of your bedroom. "Every single day, all I do is worry about you. You missed dinner again, and you want to know what I thought? That you're dead. You never call, text, hell, I'd be happy with a goddamn smoke signal! Anything to let me know you're okay. That you're alive." You throw your arms up in exasperation, and he watches you with those cold, calculating eyes from the bed.

"Do you want me to leave?" his voice is calm and quiet.

"No. No, I want you to stay with me. Move-in with me, go out to dinner, meet my parents. I want to be with you! Not spend every night wondering where you are. Worried you're being buried in an unmarked grave in the desert with a gunshot wound to the head. I just want you to be with me."

He looks at you, and your hands tremble; he suddenly looks so exhausted. His eyes droop, and his skin becomes pale. "Liam? Baby?" You surge forward and catch him before he falls off the bed, collapsing. You scream for him and lay him on his back, pulling off the bandage soaked with blood. "Shit, shit," you try to think of everything he's taught you, and you notice the knife sticking out of the drawer.

He's bleeding heavily, and you grab the knife and run to the kitchen turning on the flame on the stove. You pull down a bottle of Ever clear and take a quick swig cringing at the burn. You put the knife over the flame and watch it turn red, the flame flickering in your eyes. When it's hotter than hell, you walk quickly back to the bedroom and pour alcohol over the wound.

"I'm so sorry, my love," you whisper and place the knife to his stomach. The smell of burnt flesh fills the room, and he lets out a pained groan as the wound closes. You rush to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit doing your best to give it air before you patch him up.

You pull the chair close to his side of the bed and collapse into it. Holding your head in your hands. His breathing returns to normal, and his face, once scrunched up in pain, softens. You lean forward in the chair and reach for his neck, making sure he still has a pulse, and pull away relieved.

You stay up watching him for hours but eventually fall asleep, your eyes heavy with exhaustion. When you come too, a blanket has been draped over your body. The shadow of a figure is moving beneath it up and down. You clench around the fingers dipped inside you, warmth floods between your legs, and you hear hi sucking as your clit is pulled into Liam's hot mouth.

"Liam," you moan and pull the blanket off, revealing the predator devouring your body. "Baby, what are you doing?"

He doesn't respond, only quickening the pace of his fingers and licking at your pleasure point, making his tongue swirl just the way you like. Who knows how long he's been between your legs but his large hands move your thighs over his shoulders and pulls you closer. The cascade of pleasure erupts, and you're cumming on his tongue as he continues to work you through it. When you're shaking so bad you can barely speak, he lets go and gives you a soft smile from between your thighs.

"I'm thanking you for saving my life," he's quiet, and both of you are lost in one another's eyes. Until he moves up to kiss you softly. "Let me make love to you," he whispers against your lips, and you shake your head no biting on his bottom lip.

"We can't, your stomach," he cuts you off with another kiss before pulling back to your haunches.

"What if you rode me, baby?" You look at him wide-eyed, feeling more awake. Liam was always in control of every aspect of his life, including his sexual one.

You nod slowly as he gets up and lays down on the bed. You carefully straddle his hips taking extra caution not to touch the wound on his stomach. His hands reach forward and line you up with his cock. Guiding you slowly down onto him. You both moan at how well he fills you, the tight warmth of your cunt clenching around him.

He holds on to your hips, and you slowly rise up and almost pulling him out entirely and then impaling yourself down on him. The two of you moving in sync together as you chase down the high of being together. It's impossible to tell where he ends, and you begin both of you connected in such a way beyond the physical.

His eyes bore into yours as you rock faster and move a hand down to rub your clit. The other hand on his chest to brace yourself. "I'm close," he pants, tightening his grip with one hand and slapping away yours as he takes over, rubbing your clit. "I need you to cum with me baby, soak me with those delicious juices."

You feel your high reaching a boiling point, and he takes his hand off your hip and brings it to your chin, forcing you to look at him. The tears in his eyes have you slow down, but he bucks up into you, keeping up the pace. "Hey," he breathes heavy, "I love you." You feel the crash of ecstasy crash into you like the waves upon the sand. Him spilling into you at the same time, painting your walls with his cum.

"Liam," you cry out, "I love you." He smiles so brightly his entire face is illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. You fall to his side, being careful of his wound. His arm curls around you and brings you tight to his side, placing his lips on your forehead.

"Sleep," he whispers, "I love you."

"I love you, Liam," you yawn, "so much." Your eyes grow heavy, and everything darkens as you drift off to sleep.

In the morning, the bed is empty and cold. He's been gone for a while, you surmise, and your heart clenches thinking upon his confession. You knew Liam loved you, but that was the last time he'd ever said it. You get up to shower and clean up the mess from last night, knowing that whatever came next, all would be okay because he loved you and knew you loved him back.

******

Two days. He'd never gone that long without communication before, and those same feelings of fear begin to grow in the pit of your stomach. The doorbell shocks you out of your stupor, and you run to yank it open. A woman stands there, her arms folded behind her back, and you feel the tension in the air. Whatever she was here for, it wasn't good.

"Are you," she pulls out an envelope with your name on it and reads it to you.

"Yes, what can I do for you?"

"I hate to have to tell you this, but Liam is dead." The world stops spinning. Instead, you are now the dizzy one. Nausea rises in your throat, and you fall back into the apartment and land on the floor. A sob ripping from your throat, the woman stands awkwardly in the doorway. "I know this must come as a shock, but he left something for you." You look up at her in confusion, and she hands you the envelope. You take it from her hands and hold it close to your chest. Inhaling the scent of lavender and linen from your own bedding.

"I'll leave you to grieve. I'm sorry for your loss. I left the card for the medical examiner's office in the envelope if you wanted to make arrangements." She backs out of the door and shuts it disappearing down the stairs.

Your hands shake as you rip open the envelope. Liam's handwriting sticks out amongst the page, the slight curl of his letters. The one thing that was always distinctly him.

My love,

You told me last night that if anything happened to me, you would never know. But if you are reading this, then you'll know it has. I'm not one who can spout poetics and write you long letters filled with my undying love. So I will keep it simple.

I love you.

I want you to live your life. Fall in love, get married, buy the house, make babies, and forget me. I'm gone.

But for the moments, I was on this earth. I loved you, and only you.

Goodbye, my love,

Liam

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