#sixteen years later they managed to make me cry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mistydear · 2 years

Text

soften me now, let me take as is given (xvi)

billie dean howard x reader

summary: You meet Billie in mourning. She's too professional, and you're too angry, and it takes too long to see her again. And again. And again as your lives tumble together.

w/c: 4k

taglist: @thedeconstructionist @cordeliass @strawberryshorttcakkee (talulahmae??) @max-the-d0g @mistysswampmud @angelxsarahp @billiedeanspearls @madamevirgo @cordithatgurl @mayfair-fleur @saucy-sapphic @whatfutureiamdead

chapter one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen

notes: hiiii. sorry about the break, my mental health took a nosedive. it's peak season at work and i might be losing my mind a little bit. hoping to get back into the swing of it though. still have big things planned for this story. would love feedback!! warnings!! smut in this ch. it's pretty tame tbh, purposefully not as emotional as i would usually do

When Billie goes to brunch a few days later with Matthew and Holly, she tells them everything. And in the back of her mind she can still feel the weight of you holding her, the smell of your perfume, and the blush in your cheeks when you tripped over her—when she caught you and held you close. Your hands are so warm and soft when hers are cold, and she could still feel them on her now, the brush of your thumb across her skin.

“You kissed her?” Holly drawls, low and hushed as she leans over the table. Matthew nearly rolls his eyes.

“She kissed her cheek,” he corrects, feeling less monumentally shaken than Holly.

“You kissed her,” she repeats, waving Matthew off. Billie feels her face heating and quickly grabs a drink of ice water, glancing around to make sure no one heard. She can’t quite believe it herself, not sure what had come over her.

“That isn’t out of character for Billie, Holl,” Matthew argues, stabbing his fork into an egg, resting his elbows on the table.

“With me or you, yeah. Or when her southern hospitality comes out. Not like this,” Holly enunciates, her accent coming out thicker the more emotion that creeps into her voice. Matthew pauses, his eyes drifting to Billie who has a knot in the pit of her stomach that’s tangling itself a little tighter each day. She swallows, twisting a ring around her finger.

“I pushed her too far,” she says, and there’s a heaviness behind her eyes, but her voice is cool and even. “I shouldn’t have told her.”

“You shouldn’ta done it,” Holly presses, and Billie gives her a slow, hard look. It’s one she’s perfected over the years. Giving the least amount away while maintaining the potency of her anger.

“It’s too much and still not enough,” Matthew jumps in, hoping to break Billie’s rumination. “You can’t manage Y/N’s grief for her. And you can’t keep holding onto your feelings so tightly. Eventually you’re gonna break, and based on everything you’ve said, we are gonna have a level three biohazard on our hands when you fall apart.”

He motions between himself and Holly, and Billie’s reminded of what happened the last time she visited her mother. When she came home to LA, she couldn’t stop crying. Matthew and Holly had never seen her so emotional and untethered and raw. He told her one day he needed a hazmat suit just to bring her coffee. A laugh bubbled from her between sobs, and Holly practically jumped on it, kissing her cheek and saying there’s my Billie. There’s a reason she holds herself so tightly and at such a distance from everyone else. She never learned how to heal, never learned how to guard herself without shutting the world out. She’ll never admit it, but Matthew and Holly know that she’s fragile, know that her heart is always either caged or bleeding.

“Not enough, my ass,” Holly says then turns to Billie, a hand on her arm. “This is the most strung out I’ve seen you since Olivia. You do realize this is flirting.”

Billie hasn’t seriously dated anyone in a long time, and the mention of Olivia stings a little. They ended on bad terms. Billie wasn’t willing to come out, and Olivia was always very outspoken and proud, and eventually it became a point of contention. She never once called Billie cowardly, but she didn’t have to. Billie thought it enough times to do the damage herself.

“She got you to dance? In public?” Holly points out, and Billie’s heart twists uncomfortably. You were so welcoming, so soft, and there was never any pressure. It was easy in a way Billie hasn’t experienced in a long time. She was relaxed, which is not a word she uses lightly. And the reality of that thought hits her harder than she expected. She’d spent the last few months dancing around the idea, not quite letting it sink in, not letting herself fully grasp the feeling. But now it’s here. It’s right here, and Holly’s right.

“I think I’m in trouble,” Billie says, feeling weightless.

“Honey, you’re way past trouble,” Matthew smirks.

. . .

“You’re stewing. I can see you stewing,” Norah says between bites of her takeout. It’s Monday night, and you’re watching a dumb movie you can’t even recall the plot of.

“I’m angry.”

“No you’re not,” Norah shoots back, and you pause before you can even start your tenth rant of the week. Norah sighs and shifts on her couch so she can face you directly. “If you were as angry as you say you are with Billie then you’d be done with her. And if you were done with her you wouldn’t be stewing so loudly. You’re not angry. You’re frustrated because you know Billie’s right even if what she did was wrong. And you’re confused because Billie kissed you right before she gave you the most weirdly devotional gift anyone’s ever given you.”

You go red, not sure how to process those words, but your chest is tightening at a rapid speed, and you suddenly feel like someone pulled down your pants in the middle of a crowded hallway. You open your mouth, but Norah holds up a finger to stop you.

“Yes, kissed. On the cheek, maybe, but the intention was clear. Gift, yes, because you and I both know you needed that kind of closure. Billie gave you something so precious, Y/N, and I don’t want you to ever forget that. And devotional, extremely yes. Billie Dean Howard is busy and famous and does this for a living, and she chose to devote time, energy, and care into you. She’s a strange woman who shows her emotions in strange ways, but I promise you they’re right there on her sleeve.”

You sit quietly for a long moment, shoulders slumping down into the couch, needing some kind of support to carry you right now.

“You think Billie has feelings for me?” you ask, dumbstruck. Norah just stares at you, mouth open. You’re feeling more lost with each moment that passes until Norah grabs her food and faces the TV in a huff.

“You’re such an idiot.”

You frown, slumping down further into the couch as silence lapses between you, the movie playing in the background. Billie Dean Howard has feelings for you? For the person who was nothing but cruel to her, who played hot and cold with her for weeks, who used her as a crutch for your grief, who’s still grieving, who’s trying to find a new normal among ghosts and Andy and Billie. Billie.

Billie with the deep brown eyes and long nails and string of pearls. TV personality Billie Dean Howard. Medium to the Stars and woman who choked you on her bedroom floor. There was a moment sometime after that, right after you fell asleep on her couch, when you realized that this is real. She’s real. It wasn’t as earth shattering as you expected but much more unfathomable than you knew how to process. You’re sort of numb about it in the wake of Kate. In the wake of everything. And you’d never felt selfish about it until this moment. There were times you wondered how much of a burden it must be, how frightening it might get, but now you can’t help but ask yourself if you’d used her. Is she the one being taken advantage of? By the show and her fans and her abilities.

And why you? Out of everyone’s grief, everyone’s hurt, everyone’s cruelty, why does she want to endure yours?

“I have to make a phone call,” you mumble, standing up.

“Finally,” Norah grumbles as you step out onto her balcony and close the sliding glass door behind you.

Your phone rings and rings, and your heart starts beating faster. Right when you think it might go to voicemail, the line connects.

“Hello,” she says on the other end. It’s not a question. It’s softer than that.

“Billie, I’m sorry,” you rush, and there’s a heavy beat of silence before you hear her breathe again.

“What?”

“For everything. But especially for how I reacted at the bar.”

“You had every right to—”

“I wish I would have listened to you sooner,” you interrupt, needing to get it out there in the open. “I’m sorry.” There’s silence on the other end, and you’re afraid to break it. So, you listen to the static in the line, almost forgetting to breathe.

“So am I,” comes the mournful response, and you swallow, looking out over the LA skyline at night. You don’t know how to ask her why, the words stuck in your throat, don’t know how to erase the hurt you both feel.

“I need you to stop being my medium now.” You hear a little huff on the other end, something that could have been a laugh, and you allow yourself a small smile.

“Where does that leave us?” she asks, and your heart twists and jumps. Us. You wonder what that means to her.

“Do you wanna go to Insomnia tomorrow?” Billie does laugh this time, light and relieved.

“I wish I could,” she sighs, and you lean against Norah’s balcony, chewing your lip. “I have more press to do.”

“Still?”

“Still.” She sounds just as weary about it as you do. “I can do Thursday night.” You tell her that works, and she tells you okay, and then there’s more silence.

“Billie?”

“Yes, Y/N?” You squirm at how she says your name, low and slow.

“Can you not…get rid of my house yet?” You’re embarrassed for even asking, and it makes you feel so small and childlike, desperate.

“It hadn’t even crossed my mind,” she says, and a knot you didn’t know was there unraveled.

. . .

On Wednesday night, you’re at Andy’s apartment. And up until about thirty minutes ago you had been watching a movie after a nice evening out. Now, Andy’s laying naked underneath you on her bed. Two of your fingers are buried inside her to the knuckle, and your mouth is on hers as she whines. This isn’t the first time you’ve done this with her, and it won’t be the last. Her hips buck into you, your palm is soaked with her, and she’s gasping so desperately. When she cums, it’s sweet and heady and her back arches with a high moan. And as she rides it out on your hand, you kiss her, deep and slow.

Gradually, you pull your fingers from her and slip them between your mouths and into hers. She doesn’t blink, her eyes devouring you as she sucks your fingers clean. When Andy kisses you next it’s harder and faster, and you let her flip you over so she’s on top of you, straddling your still clothed thigh.

“Andy,” you sigh as she kisses your neck. She hums, hand sliding up your bare stomach, gripping your ribcage. “Hey, you know I’m not…” she bites your throat and all rational thought falls away. “Oh god.”

“Not ready?” she asks, pulling back to check in. You haven’t let her touch you yet. You haven’t let anyone touch you since Kate. It always felt too much like a violation, like you were breaking your vows or her trust or her respect or just her. You feel like Kate might shatter if you were to let someone else touch you the way Kate always touched you. You swallow, watching her chest rise and fall, her curls fall into her face, her bruised lips part for you.

“Kiss me,” you say, breathless and nervous, and Andy needs no further prompting before she’s spreading your legs and settling her hips between them. She grinds into you, slow and tentative, holding your face in one hand, her mouth sucking marks on your neck. Your heart pounds and you sigh, letting your eyes close. Before you realize it, you're rolling your hips hard up into her, your legs around her, pulling her into you.

“Baby,” Andy whispers, kissing your neck sweetly. You don’t respond, deciding instead to kiss her. She matches your pace, and when she slides a hand across your chest, still in a bra, you break. This is going to happen or it isn’t, and you’ve just reached the point of no return.

“Fuck, just—” you struggle to articulate, warmth spreading between your legs. Andy hums, teasing, but she takes the hint. Slowly, she sits back on her heels, hands sliding down your body. You tense, nerves prickling. When her thumbs dig under the waistband of your sweatpants, your breathing quickens, and she pauses.

“We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you respond quickly. And you do. You want to get past this barrier. So she slides them off, tossing them to the floor. You’re left in your underwear and bra, and Andy quickly comes back down to kiss you, one hand gripping your hip, the other your cheek. You’re thankful for the distraction, pulling her down harder. She smiles into you, digging her hips into yours. When her hand finally slides under the elastic of your underwear, you both sigh. You’re wetter than you thought you were, and Andy smiles into your mouth. As her fingers circle, she kisses your neck, sucking and nipping, and you close your eyes, trying to focus on the feeling.

Without warning, a hollowness builds in your chest that you can’t shake. Your mind drifts and worries. Something isn’t right. You can feel Andy’s fingers slowing, and when she lifts them to your mouth, you take them obediently. The warmth between your thighs cools, but you let Andy touch you with saliva soaked fingers, and that helps, but something’s missing. Why don’t you feel more?

“Let me taste you,” Andy breathes, and you nod, unable to form coherent thoughts. You squirm out of your underwear, and she tosses them aside, settling down between your thighs. Her hands are soft across your hip bones, and her breath is warm on the hair between your legs, and at the first stroke of her tongue, your head falls back against the pillow.

Your eyes close, and it feels good, but you know it’s not good enough to make you cum. And it’s not Andy. Fuck, you know it’s not Andy. So you let yourself drift, and a memory surfaces.

It’s a Sunday morning, and the blinds are half open, sheets crumpled at the end of the bed. You’re naked, and Kate’s mouth is buried between your trembling thighs. She’s already made you cum twice, and there’s a wet toy laying near your hip.

“Kate, please,” you moan, breath stuttering.

“Please, what, sunshine?” she asks, breath hot against you. You roll your hips into it, gripping the sheets with one hand. The other is tangled in her hair, pulling her gently back down. “So needy this morning,” she mumbles with a grin, and you groan, head hitting the pillow again.

“Fuck you,” you grit, but it turns into a loud moan when she sucks on your clit. You break into a sweat, her tongue dipping inside you. “That feels so good,” you whine, bucking your hips up into her mouth.

You thought that thinking of Kate during sex would hurt. Instead, it makes you so incredibly wet you can hear yourself on Andy’s mouth. Fuck.

Kate hums into you, and it sends a shock wave of pleasure through you. She knows exactly which buttons to press and how often and how hard, and you can’t get enough of it.

“You wanna cum, baby?” Kate asks, never taking her lips off you. And those words would have sent you tumbling over the edge right there if Kate weren’t actively looking for an answer, looking for you to wait.

“Yes. God, Kate, please,” you moan, pulling at her hair. You feel desperate, needy, and you’re throbbing, sweating, trembling. Kate kisses you between your legs, drags her tongue up your center, then tells you to cum for her. And you do.

You do.

Riding out waves of pleasure on Andy’s mouth, you moan, gripping her hair. As she slows, your mind races, heart pounding. Fuck.

. . .

Billie’s there when you get to Insomnia the next night, one leg folded over the other, a book in her hand. She looks up when the bell chimes and stands as you approach, sitting only as you sit. It’s chivalrous and affectionate in a way unique to Billie, the way she holds your gaze as you move. You know she’s calculating and precise in everything she does, but when she looks at you there’s always something deeper, something softer and more careful.

“Hey,” you breathe, already feeling underdressed and needing some way to break the tension that crackles between you. “I really wish you would just wear normal people clothes every once and a while.” She raises an eyebrow, a smile already creeping onto her lips.

“I assure you these are normal clothes.” She’s in slacks and a blouse and heels you’d break your ankle in, and her makeup is flawless for 9pm. In response, you look down at your long sleeved shirt and corduroy pants and motion between you helplessly. “You look lovely,” she says, voice softening.

“You make me look less lovely,” you argue, and she cocks her head down skeptically at you.

“I promise you it’s the opposite,” Billie responds, and you can tell immediately that she’s serious and wonder if she’s suffered a concussion recently. So, you take a deep breath and shrug your shoulders.

“I guess we’re both just really ugly and unfashionable then.” Something sparkles in Billie’s eyes, and she chews her lip as if considering whether to let your ridiculous compliments sink in. Your lip quirks up at her, and then you stand. “Come on, let’s order.” She follows you to the counter, and when you pay for her desert, she gives you a withering, embarrassed look but doesn’t put up much of a fight otherwise. Vivian is there, and though she doesn’t smile, you’ve learned that a head nod is essentially equivalent, so you give her one back and stuff a couple dollars in the tip jar. You feel like she’s seen you at some of your worst moments in the same way that Billie has.

“So how are you?” Billie asks as you dip your spoon into your sundae. You consider the question. You didn’t end up sleeping over at Andy’s last night. Instead, you squirmed in bed with her for an hour before making up an excuse to leave. Then you cried in your car for twenty minutes because you can’t cum without thinking about your dead wife, and you’re not sure what that means. But you think that may be too much to talk about with Billie right after you had a fight about said dead wife.

“I’m…okay. You?” Billie raises one shoulder.

“The same.”

“Scintillating,” you nod, and Billie rolls her eyes. “Tell me about the press stuff.”

“Really?” Billie winces, digging her fork into her slice of apple pie. You nod, wondering when she’s gonna start believing that you care about her stuff. She tells you that season two’s been officially confirmed with Lifetime, and you congratulate her earnestly and enthusiastically. You think she might even believe it. She also tells you that she’s heard rumors of an Emmy nomination. It’s dismissive and a little sheepish, so you reach over and squeeze her hand.

“That’s amazing, Billie. Really.” The smile that tugs faintly at Billie’s lips is embarrassed but proud, and that’s enough for you. When you let go of her hand there’s a moment when you miss the coolness of her skin on yours, and you swallow, letting the silence hang for a second between you.

“Can I tell you something?” You nod, and she looks up at you, her eyes more guarded than before. “After you left, and I didn’t hear from you for a week, I started to think you didn’t want to speak to me again. And I was going to respect that. I’m just…confused. You confuse me.” She shakes her head, looking at you like you’re a puzzle she’s determined to solve, and you’re not sure whether that’s a compliment or not. So, you decide to be honest with her.

“I’m upset that you went behind my back. I’m angry, actually. Because you lied to me for months,” you say, voice even and strong. “But I also know that you gave me…a precious, invaluable gift. And I don’t know how to even begin to thank you for it.” Billie presses her lips together, an emotion you can’t place swelling behind her eyes. Embarrassment, maybe. “And I’m sorry I gave you whiplash. I just…I don’t think it’s worth it, really, to be angry at you. I’ve already wasted enough months being angry at you. I want…” you sigh, faltering, because what do you want? What is all of this coming to? “I want to keep doing this. Me and you. At Insomnia. Or at a jazz club, stepping on your toes. Or at your wrap party arguing with your coworkers,” you smile, shrugging, and it pulls one from Billie too. Her hands are in her lap. She’s holding herself tightly, as if too much emotion will make her crumble.

“I want that too,” she admits, voice hoarse, and you watch her eyes deepen, something inside her swell against her will. Before you can prod at it, she pushes it down. “And I understand you don’t want to hear it, but I am sorry. I wish it were different.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, your chest tightening. She presses her lips together, gathering her thoughts.

“If we’d met under different circumstances, there’d be less hurt between us,” she explains, fingers digging into her chest at the word hurt, as if it were a physical pain. And maybe for her it is.

“Billie,” you sigh, leaning over the table and grabbing her hand from her chest to hold it in both of your own. You didn’t realize she had such a profound guilt complex. Though you suppose in her line of work it becomes inevitable. “If the circumstances were different we wouldn’t have met at all,” you remind her, searching her eyes, thumb swiping across the back of her hand. She gives you a tight, watery smile, and you realize that what she’s feeling is insecure. Your stomach sinks, and you frown, squeezing her hand. “I would have been fine without you. But I’m glad I don’t have to be.”

She laughs, abrupt and gasping, and you smile, searching her eyes, hoping you conveyed the message you wanted to. There doesn’t seem to be enough words in the English language to express to Billie how you feel. That if you’d met her at Insomnia and she didn’t have the gifts she does, you’d still be glad to know her. Though she seems to understand because she squeezes your hand back. Still, you stand up and round the table, bending down to wrap Billie in a hug. She’s stiff for a moment, but when her arms eventually slide around you, they’re careful and delicate. Briefly, you spread a hand across the back of Billie’s head, holding her against you, leaning your cheek into her hair.

“We’re good, okay?” you whisper. She doesn’t answer, but you feel her hold you a little more purposefully. When you pull away, there’s a rare vulnerability in her eyes, an openness you savor. You think this might be one of the first times you’re seeing Billie without a mask.

“Finally?” she asks, brow quirking up, and now it’s your turn to laugh.

“Yes,” you enunciate playfully. And before you go to sit back down, you steal a bite of Billie’s pie. Her smile is soft and willing and easy as she watches your lips close over her fork. There’s something else in her eyes too, something just a shade darker. And as you stand over her and she looks up, you think maybe Kate used to look at you like that.

#writing #billie dean howard #ahs fanfic #billie dean howard x reader #billie dean x reader #ahs murder house #sarah paulson #soften me now #american horror story

69 notes · View notes

marvelmaniac715 · 1 year

Text

I recently re-read my first ever Chucky fic (go back on my blog and read it if you haven’t so this will make sense) and I think that I can do better. So this is my official rewrite of that first ever fic, with a similar structure and plot, but with better writing (or at least much improved writing). If you guys like it, I’ll rewrite the two follow up fics in that au and (maybe) write a part four…

————————————————————-

When Nica was seven, she was assigned the task of making a Father’s Day card at school. All of her classmates talked about their dads with such pride and excitement, whilst all Nica could do was bite her lip and look down at the floor. They were meant to draw a family picture with their dads in them, but all Nica managed was a stickman with a question mark over the face.

When she went home that afternoon, she presented the card to her mother, who looked like she was about to cry. But then Barbie came home from school and the matter was forgotten. However, that evening as she was being tucked into bed, Nica looked up at her mother and quietly asked:

“Mommy, what happened to my Daddy?”

Sarah startled at the question, unable to meet her seven-year-old’s gaze. She’d always believed that honesty was the best policy, but how could she tell her young daughter the truth? That she’d been taken in by a stranger in a bar’s charm and allowed him to impregnate her? That her one night of foolishness meant that her husband (Nica’s stepfather, as shameful as it was to admit that) was killed? She couldn’t say that, so instead, she looked at Nica and said (guiltily):

“Your father’s dead, honey.”

It wasn’t a lie.

————————————————————

When Nica was sixteen, she was walking home from high school with some friends when she was stopped by a blonde woman wearing sunglasses. She was used to this (a surprising amount of older people were patronising to people in wheelchairs - especially when they were children) so she launched into her well-rehearsed ‘smile and nod’ routine. But she was thrown off when the woman gushed:

“Oh, you look just like your father!”

Nica was stunned by this. She had no polite comeback prepared, she just sort of awkwardly stammered:

“I… do?”

The woman nodded and replied:

“Yes, I can’t see any traces of your mother at all- which is a good thing, believe me.”

Still confused, Nica politely laughed and tried to make an excuse to leave. Then something important hit her.

“Wait… how did you know my dad?”

There was silence, and then…:

“I’m his wife.”

Nica asked her mother if her father had been married to anyone else when she got home that day. Her response was that sometimes people make difficult choices. And that was the end of it.

————————————————————-

Alice’s doll was looking at her. Nica didn’t know why or how, but he was.

————————————————————-

Hours later, Nica had realised that there was a very specific reason why the doll had been looking at her. He was alive, and now her entire family was gone. Her poor mother, struck down first by a vengeful ex-lover (was that even the correct term? Maybe just captor, yeah, that sounded more accurate). Next it was the nanny. Then it was Barbara, killed by a childhood tormentor. Finally it was her brother in law, who didn’t deserve his fate. Now it was only her and Alice, and poor Alice probably didn’t have long left.

Nica could feel a heart attack coming on (why couldn’t she just die from the killer doll instead of her heart condition?) and then there was a clicking sound. Looking down, she noticed that her heart medication was being injected into her thigh… by Chucky.

She didn’t really know what to say about that. Why wasn’t he killing her? Was he playing with his food before the final hunt? Or was there another reason? She asked him why he was doing this and he simply gave her an odd smile and responded:

“Not telling.”

Before she could say anything further, the police arrived, and Chucky became inanimate once more. But she could have sworn that he winked at her during the trial.

————————————————————-

The mental hospital wasn’t fun. Neither was life itself, Nica didn’t particularly enjoy living anymore. So when Chucky told her that he would be possessing her, she didn’t resist as much as she would have. Of course a lot of it was to do with the drugs, but she herself didn’t oppose it either. She asked him why he wasn’t killing her just to get it over with, and just like at the house he offered her a strange smile and said ‘Not telling’. Only this time, he softly added:

“You’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out.”

It sounded almost like praise, but before Nica could ask what he meant by that, voodoo chanting filled her ears, and the world quickly went dark.

————————————————————-

Living with Chucky was quite strange. Tiffany Valentine was one thing, with her weird ‘family bonding’ activities that she insisted upon for whatever reason. Nica had the strangest feeling that she’d met Tiffany before, but she didn’t know where she’d seen her.

Tiffany was one thing, but Chucky was something else altogether. He was weirdly… respectful, he’d always look away whenever Nica got changed, and Tiffany had told her that he closed his eyes whenever he got changed in her body in order to respect her privacy. He’d use her body to seduce guys, sure, but he never went any further than flirtation (anybody who tried to kiss her/him was given an especially brutal murder).

The weirdest thing of all was that he seemed to be looking out for her well-being. Every night he’d talk to her and say what he’d eaten that day as if to assure her that he’d eaten the correct number of calories. He urged her to eat, sleep and bathe when she had control of the body and on her birthday she found that her favourite book series had been ordered for her by Chucky and that her favourite movie had been bought on the tv.

He’d even make conversation with her whenever her mind started to spiral. He’d talk about his childhood in the late sixties, and sometimes he’d ask about Nica’s childhood (he seemed especially interested in that subject). Sometimes he’d tease her whenever she thought of something particularly embarrassing (having someone read your thoughts was bizarre) but it was always fairly lighthearted as opposed to cruel like she’d been expecting.

One day, she couldn’t take the niceness any longer and asked him why he was acting this way. He played it off at first as him just being concerned about the well-being of the body he was inhabiting, but Nica pushed further and further until Chucky gave in and said:

“Look through my memories and find the night of your conception.”

Nica was confused, but she did so, mildly unsure as to why Chucky knew when that was. What she found was terrifying. The memories seemed hazy, and reminded her of being drugged at the hospital, or the few times she’d decided to get drunk. The memory seemed like a lot of Chucky’s memories from back then, with him seducing an ill-fated young woman to her death, but there was something different about this memory as opposed to the other ones.

In this memory, Chucky said something that must have been funny, because the woman laughed, and the laugh was so… familiar. Nica concentrated harder and realised that the woman was… her mother. All the pieces suddenly fell into place: the reason why Chucky helped her, why he was so weirdly nice to her, why her mom was cagey about the identity of her father, even why she recognised Tiffany (the ‘I’m his wife’ comment suddenly made a whole lot more sense). But she had to ask one more thing:

“How long have you known?”

“Since I first met you. You look a lot like I did when I was in my original body.”

Nica nodded, unsettled that he’d known that long. But that made her ask another question:

“But why did you hurt me when we first met? If you knew I was your… y’know… why did you cause me pain?”

Chucky seemed quite defensive when he responded:

“Hey, I saved your life when it came down to it, and tensions were high, I’m sorry if I lashed out.”

There was one more question.

“Why did you possess me?”

Chucky (Nica’s father, apparently) responded in a shockingly casual tone:

“I wanted to get closer to you.”

At that point, Nica may have began to lash out herself:

“Instead of talking to me and being like ‘hey, you’re my kid, sorry for the emotional trauma’ you decided to voodoo your way into spending time with me?”

“Would you have agreed otherwise?”

That was a good point.

————————————————————-

Glenda stared down at the person claiming to be their father. They refused to believe this story until they (he?) started to describe the dreams that Glenda and Glen had been having for years as if they were facts, fond memories even. When Glenda was convinced, their father grinned and nodded to himself.

“I’d like to introduce you to someone. She’s taking a nap right now- big day yesterday, took up a lot of energy- but this is your older sister, or her body at least. Her name is Nica.”

Glenda was confused by this, and asked how on Earth that came to be. The response they got was:

“I’ve lived a long and complicated life, kid. You’re the youngest of three, I can understand how that may be a devastating blow, but your sister is an amazing person, she’s smart, talented-‘

“How the hell did Glen and I get red hair if our sister is a brunette? Was she born with red hair and decided to dye it?”

‘No, I had her in my original body, you and your twin were born when I was in a doll. You got the doll version of me’s red hair, although I’d argue that you inherited my human eye colour, and you and Glen definitely got my original nose.”

As Glenda processed this, their father began detailing their plans to escape Tiffany’s house.

————————————————————-

Nica had had it. She couldn’t take Tiffany anymore, and she’d fully snapped. She had no guilt or remorse as she stared at her nemesis down the barrel of a gun. She couldn’t feel the gun due to her new metal limbs, but she was so fuelled by rage and bloodlust that it was as if the cool metal was beneath her fingertips.

Tiffany screamed and begged for mercy, but all Nica did in return was let out a cackle that sounded vaguely familiar to her and fire the gun.

Hidden away in a bush, Chucky watched this happen with a beaming grin, filled to the brim with overwhelming pride. ‘That’s my girl’ he thought.

12 notes · View notes

the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

Text

Continued Kushina lives fanfiction. Doesn't belong to me. Chapter 14

Itachi started crying, his normally calm exterior cracking in the face of his broken brother. "I'm s—sorry. I—I'm s—so sor—ry, S—Sasu—ke. I'll f—fix th—this," Itachi managed to choke out through tears while thinking, 'Stupid chemicals are messing me up. I should be able to control myself better than this.'

—After several months on the road, Naruto and Jiraiya—

"How am I supposed to learn about information gathering if I always wait outside, Pervy-sensei?" Naruto pestered.

"I'll make sure that you learn my super-secret information gathering techniques after you turn sixteen. For now, I'm going to pump some sources for information," Jiraiya smiled at his double entendre as he walked into another brothel. "Practice your chakra manipulations."

Naruto sighed, not understanding the joke, but getting to work on the drills he still hadn't mastered and a few that he had.

—ANBU headquarters—

"Dog, report," Kushina ordered.

"Mission: successful, Lord Fox," Kakashi replied as he set the takeout on the desk. "Also, pig, horse, and snake report that the targets have been eliminated."

"Excellent," Kushina replied. "Lunch time! And then we visit Sasuke."

—The Leaf Academy—

"Konohamaru Sarutobi, you have to put time into practice," Itachi lectured from his wheelchair. He was still recovering from his treatments. "You should be first in the class. How do you expect to be a great ninja like your grandfather if you don't practice?"

"Gramps never practiced," the boy muttered.

"You never saw him practice, but he worked incredibly hard to get where he was," Itachi explained. "If you don't practice, you will fail out of the academy."

"You can barely walk, Itachi-sensei. I bet I could beat you," Konohamaru started to yell. "How come all of the teachers here are such weaklings?"

"Genjutsu," Itachi said, mostly for the other students. Konohamaru's eyes glazed over for several minutes as Iruka got on with teaching the class throwing techniques.

—Leaf Hospital, months later—

"It would appear that the cancer has gone into remission," Tsunade explained. "You are officially off of the medically disabled list, Itachi."

Itachi maintained his calm, but was internally excited to be able to spend more time working with Tsunade to treat Sasuke's trauma. "Lady Hokage, may we discuss Sasuke now?"

"What's on your mind?" she replied.

"There is only one genjutsu that can pierce the Mangekyo Sharingan: Kotoamatsukami," Itachi explained.

"And that was the genjutsu of Shisui 'the teleporter' Uchiha. Who died years ago," Tsunade narrowed her eyes.

"Is there any other way to help Sasuke recover? He hasn't made any progress in the last eight months. His short-term memory is still shot and his long-term memory is jumbled. When Orochimaru set out to break Sasuke, he did an extremely thorough job," Itachi commented.

"Let's discuss the limits of the genjutsu. I'll clear a place to meet. Kushina and Inoichi will join us…" Tsunade trailed.

—Somewhere in the Land of Water—

"Lord Jiraiya, the Hokage requires you and your apprentice in the Village Hidden in the Leaves. Immediately," the tiny slug informed the sannin. Jiraiya looked over at Naruto balancing a tiny rasengan on each finger.

'That kid is actually going to get good enough to do that exercise. Even I can't make one on each finger,' he thought as he watched. "How immediate?" Jiraiya asked the slug.

"It's about Sasuke Uchiha's treatment. The Yamanaka has catalogued most of Sasuke's memories, but they need to go through the people closest to him for verification. Naruto is the last one. Itachi and Inoichi are going to use the information to reboot Sasuke's brain. Summon Lord Fukasaku," the slug replied. Jiraiya summoned the elder toad, knowing that he could get back to the Leaf village in a few hours by reverse-summoning to Mount Myoboku first. It took a minute to summon that particular toad due to his power and status. Katsuyu implied that whatever Tsunade wanted was important enough to use that route.

"Naruto!" Jiraiya called. "Collapse your clones and pack your things. We're heading out."

Naruto dispelled his clones in small groups as he jogged over to the sannin. "Is this another hot springs trip?" he complained. "Do you HAVE to get kicked out of EVERY bath house in EVERY country?"

"We're going to Mount Myoboku, home of the toads," Jiraiya explained. "So shut up about the bath houses."

Naruto narrowed his eyes. "Is the next Icha Icha volume going to involve toads?"

"NO! THIS IS BUSINESS! STOP ASSUMING I'M DOING SOMETHING PERVERSE ALL THE TIME!" Jiraiya screamed.

"Calm down, Jiraiya-boy," the old toad soothed. "The kid has you pegged and you know it. Now what's this about going to Mount Myoboku?"

Jiraiya stared at Naruto for a second before turning back to Lord Fukasaku. "We are needed, urgently, back in the Leaf village. It was important enough for Katsuyu to ask us to take the route through Mount Myoboku."

Naruto finished dispelling the last group of his clones and began to pack thinking, 'If summoning is basically a time-space ninjutsu, then it is related to the Flying Thunder God technique. I should definitely pay attention.'

Naruto saw the small, elderly toad dispel and Jiraiya turned to him. "Are you ready to go?" Jiraiya asked.

Naruto nodded. He had several scrolls in his backpack that contained spare clothes, extra supplies, food, blankets, a tent, and a bunch of other camping equipment. The backpack had been mostly for show ever since he'd mastered basic storage seals. Suddenly, he and Jiraiya were no longer in the Land of Water, but at the foot of a massive mountain, surrounded by alien vegetation and a bunch of toads.

"Welcome back, Jiraiya-boy. It's been a while," an elderly female toad exclaimed. "Pa told us that you're in a hurry, but you'll have to wait a few hours until the kids get set up near the Leaf village."

Jiraiya bowed and said, "Thanks, Lady Shima."

"And this is Naruto's first trip to the mountain! I'll make us something special," she smiled, hopping home to prepare grubs and worm and bug delicacies for Naruto.

—Leaf Hospital, Sasuke's room, two weeks later—

"Did it work?" a voice asked. It was like Naruto's, but older. Sasuke blinked.

"Did what work?" Sasuke asked. His vision was completely blurred. He couldn't even make out shapes. "Why can't I see?"

"Sasuke, what do you remember?" a woman's voice asked.

"Who are you?" Sasuke asked, tensing.

"She's the head of the hospital, Sasuke," Kushina's soothing voice cooed. "How do you feel?"

Sasuke thought about it for a minute. 'Kushina is here. Naruto is here. My voice is different than I remember, but so is Naruto's. I must have been unconscious for a very long time. Wait, I remember… Itachi! But he was bald. And thin. Was he sick? This is weird. I can't remember.'

"I don't know. I'm having trouble remembering things," Sasuke responded.

"He's coherent, so that's an improvement," the head doctor said.

"Sasuke," Itachi's voice froze Sasuke in place. "There is a lot that you may not remember. We were as thorough as possible, but the damage was extensive. Please, don't react until you learn everything."

"Why can't I see?" Sasuke slowly asked.

Itachi answered, "You've overused the Mangekyo Sharingan. You had it active for ten months, day and night. Your mind was broken and couldn't shut it off. It took Kushina ten months to create a seal that would shut it off for you. We couldn't even figure out what was wrong with you until then."

Sasuke slowly thought about what he could remember. He remembered Itachi standing over their parents with a bloody tanto. He remembered Kushina hugging him. He remembered playing pranks together with Naruto. He remembered fragments of a pink-haired girl and a white-haired jonin with a single sharingan.

"Don't try too hard to remember. It will take time to heal. When you're ready, Itachi and Kakashi are going to start your rehabilitation," Kushina explained. "In the meantime, you'll be living with me again."

'And when you're ready, we're going to find Danzo and take back the eyes he stole so that you can see again,' Itachi thought. 'Together.'

Chapter 15

Naruto gasped as his broken rib punctured his lung. Another Root operative had joined in the fight to hold Team Kakashi and Team Guy at bay. He looked up at the ANBU mask, the operative foolishly thinking that giving Naruto time would instill a sense of fear in the fiery blonde.

"Sage Mode." Naruto's eyes turned into golden disks with a single horizontal pupil and the telltale orange shade surrounding them.

—Two months earlier—

"I haven't taught you every single jutsu I know, but do you really need them?" Jiraiya asked. "I'm telling you that your training with me is finished."

Naruto frowned, pouting, "But Jiraiya-sensei!"

"Your mother wants to see you anyway," Jiraiya said, knowing that Naruto would straighten at the mention of Kushina. The two had been travelling together for three years. But ever since Naruto had turned sixteen, Jiraiya started taking him to train in the brothels and Naruto had found another aspect of being a ninja that he thoroughly enjoyed.

'Must not tell mom about "hentai-jutsus." Must not tell mom about "hentai-jutsus,"' Naruto repeated to himself, knowing that she would think that Jiraiya had corrupted him by exposing him to one of the three ninja vices. He certainly wasn't as sex-obsessed as Jiraiya, but he knew how to have a good time.

"You're an even bigger pervert than I am and I am the Great Super-Pervert, Jiraiya!" Jiraiya posed momentarily in front of the brothel they'd just left. Naruto energetically ran from the stupid pose and, after a few miles, they stopped discussing the brothel to discuss actual business.

"That 'super-pervert' cover has got to be the most ingenious thing ever, Jiraiya-sensei," Naruto commented, still smiling.

"It isn't a cover," Jiraiya grumbled before sarcastically adding, "You think Kushina will approve of you going that route?"

Naruto's smile turned into a laugh for a few seconds before panicked realization overcame him. "Crap!"

Jiraiya chuckled. "Yep. Looks like you're stuck getting assassins while I take all of the seduction experts. MUAHAHAHA! What were we talking about again?"

The two joked on the road back to the Village Hidden in the leaves. The last time either had been back was to help treat Sasuke and that had been two years ago. They walked into the village, which had undergone renovations in several places.

Naruto and Jiraiya waved at the gate attendants as they walked into the village. Naruto looked good. His intense training ethic left him well muscled while his good diet and genes had kicked in to put him at a noticeable five feet, nine inches tall. He maintained his blonde hair to keep it spikey, but shorter than his father's hair. His blue eyes had made him incredibly popular with women now that he looked like an adult and had the confidence to back it up. He no longer carried a backpack since he stored all of his equipment in a single storage scroll.

His outfit was different now too. Rather than the orange he sported all through the academy, he wore a dark blue jacket that had a small Uzumaki crest in orange on the shoulder along with black pants.

"I'm gonna get some ramen, Jiraiya-sensei. You have to report to the Hokage anyway, right?" Naruto asked, hoping to get some food before he had to report in.

"Yeah, sure. Get some food," Jiraiya replied. "Don't take too long though. The Fifth is going to want to assess your skills."

Naruto bounded down familiar streets straight for Ichiraku Ramen. The stand had expanded since he'd last been home so that instead of just five or six seats in front, it was a round stand with more than a dozen seats ringing it. Noodles hung from the inside waiting for their final bath before going into a bowl.

Naruto sat down and waited for a familiar female face to ask him for his order. Ayame moved over to him, obviously busy. "What can we— NARUTO?"

"Hey! Think you can swing my usual?" he winked with a big, foxy grin.

"Of course!" she exclaimed, writing quickly onto her pad and sending it over to the trio of chefs making different types of ramen. "When did you get back?" she asked.

"Just now. This was my first stop," Naruto smiled. "Gotta support the local businesses, right?" He smiled in that charming way that he knew got ladies a little worked up.

He inhaled his three bowls of ramen and paid the bill before walking toward the Hokage tower. A familiar white cat streaked past followed by three genin. Neji strolled behind the genin, pausing to say, "Hello, Naruto. Welcome back," and then strolling casually after the genin.

Naruto continued down the street, looking for any other old friends. He spotted Shikamaru with the blonde girl from the Sand village. Both had green chunin vests.

"Hey, Shikamaru!" Naruto called.

"Hey, Naruto. Finally back?" Shikamaru responded.

"Yep. Heading to the Hokage right now, actually," Naruto explained.

"Good. I hope you take my place. I don't want to go to the chunin exams," Shikamaru complained. "So troublesome…"

The blonde Sand-nin responded, "Right? If I have to listen to another bunch of genin bitch about failing, I'm going to snap."

"I just hope I can convince the Hokage to give me a field promotion instead of taking the exams. I've been on the road the last few years and didn't get a chance to take any makeups. What's up with you?" Naruto asked.

Shikamaru sighed, "I'm trying to avoid becoming a jonin. My father keeps trying to get me to take his spot with the Hokage so he can retire, but then I'd have to do his job. Being a chunin leaves me with much more free time."

"That's the life though," Naruto commented. "We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot; a pirate's life for me!" Naruto sang with a smile.

Temari frowned, saying, "We're ninjas, not pirates."

"Aw, crap! I've been doing it wrong this whole time!" Naruto joked his smile widening. 'I knew she was the serious type,' he internally cheered.

"Heh. Meet me later for a game?" Shikamaru replied, brushing aside Naruto's obvious needling of the girl.

"Sure," Naruto replied before they all heard Naruto's name shouted from the Hokage tower. "Sounds like I'm late. See ya!" he said as he ran to the tower. He jumped up to the office and in through the window out of reflex.

"There you are," Tsunade calmly said as she noticed him in the window. "Welcome home. Before we put you on active duty, I'll have to determine whether Jiraiya has done his job or he's just taught you how to be a lazy author."

"What kind of test? Skills demonstration? Sparring? Infiltration?" Naruto asked, genuinely curious.

'Anko's infiltration test was remarkable at weeding out people who couldn't hide their strength,' Tsunade thought at the mention of infiltration. "All of the above. First, I've arranged for a sparring partner to test and evaluate your battle skills tomorrow morning in the Forest of Death," Tsunade smiled.

"Sounds good. What time?" Naruto asked.

"Be at the main gate at seven," Tsunade replied.

"Got it. Do you happen to know if Kushina, Kakashi, Sakura, or Sasuke are around?" Naruto asked, hoping to cut his search time down.

"Kushina and Kakashi are with ANBU, but Kushina should be in town or soon returning. Sasuke and Itachi are probably at your place. Sakura is at the hospital," Tsunade listed.

"What's wrong with Sakura?" Naruto asked, concerned for his old teammate.

"Nothing. She works there. She teaches the academy medical course two days a week and treats patients four days a week," Tsunade answered. Between Kushina running ANBU and Tsunade's use of a shadow clone or two, she'd managed to implement several of the pet projects she'd wanted to implement since the Third Great Ninja War. "This is the first year we've required a first aid jutsu along with the other three to become genin," she beamed proudly.

"Really? Isn't that more advanced than a transformation?" Naruto asked absently, itching to go see whomever he could find.

"A little, but we've seen an increase in mission efficiency that makes up the increased failure rate at the academy," Tsunade replied.

"Neat. Tomorrow at seven?" Naruto asked, obviously not as interested in discussing policy as Tsunade was in bragging about it.

"Yes. Tomorrow at seven. Dismissed," Tsunade nodded disappointedly, sitting back down at the desk.

Naruto leapt out the window, running across rooftops to get back to his home. He jumped through the open window to see Sasuke and Itachi eating with Kushina. "Hi, everyone!" he exclaimed walking into the living room. Kushina was out of her seat in a blur, tackling Naruto in a big hug.

"You're home!" Kushina exclaimed with a wide smile. Even Itachi smiled a little at the spectacle. Sasuke turned, but kept his eyes closed. They weren't technically his eyes since his eyes were in suspended animation and the eyes he had were transplanted from a donor.

Naruto returned the hug and stood up. He looked remarkably like the pictures of Minato, but he was a built a little heavier than Minato. And the whisker marks on his cheeks, of course.

"Tell me what you've been up to," Naruto pressed the group as he sat at the table.

Kushina responded, "Well, I've been in charge of ANBU and Hinata convinced me to train her, so I've been pretty busy. Did you study the scrolls I sent you?"

"Yes. I've got a knack for sealing. I think you'll be impressed, if you have time to watch my evaluation tomorrow," Naruto smirked.

Itachi chuckled. "I'm pretty curious, but I'll wait to see tomorrow. If you've got time, Sasuke would probably like to spar, but his eyes are sealed at the hospital until we can get him new Uchiha eyes." Itachi's vision was only in the early stages of faltering, but he could still see fine with the glasses he now wore.

"I read some legends about the sharingan, now that you mention it. It said that Madara Uchiha started to go blind because of the Mangekyo Sharingan, but he transplanted his brother's eyes," Naruto started lecturing.

"Unfortunately, that isn't an option for us," Sasuke started.

"I can't donate my eyes," Itachi finished, a little sad.

"Oh," Naruto said, followed by an awkward silence. "Well, what have you been up to aside from eye transplants, Sasuke?"

"After I left the hospital, we spent several weeks relaxing here before I started training again. Itachi and Kakashi trained me in the use of the sharingan for several months before even my Mangekyo Sharingan was completely blind. After that, we tried training with a different set of eyes, but they burned outquickly. I've been training to fight blind ever since," Sasuke explained. "The hospital informed us that organ donors' eyes largely go unused, but that they would save compatible eyes in case I burn out another set."

"I take it you've been trying Earth Style, mostly?" Naruto asked, knowing from fighting blind opponents that was the easiest.

"At first," Sasuke responded cagily. "I can't use many of the lightning techniques that I know without vision, but I use fire and water ninjutsu too. My genjutsu has gotten almost as good as Itachi's though," he smiled.

"Nice! We're gonna have to spar soon. I wanna see where we are," Naruto commented. He nodded to Itachi, "I guess you've been living here too, but what have you been up to?"

"I spent most of that first year you were gone in treatment for cancer," Itachi stoically commented. "If I hadn't found Sasuke, I would be suffering from the terminal stages right now. I'm very thankful to the Fifth Hokage for taking me in and changing my outlook. I've mostly taught at the academy with Iruka because I have a seal that stops me from being fully cleared."

"Is it from Orochimaru?" Naruto interrupted, thinking back to when his mother had commented on Orochimaru's cursed seal.

"No. I can't talk about it, but it mostly stops me from being fully cleared. Kushina has suggested that I could overpower it, if I increase my chakra level enough. My own training has focused on that, but it took nearly a year to get back to the level it was at before I started treatment and every attempt I've made so far has failed, so I'm still working on it," Itachi continued. "I think that we all have an early day tomorrow, so I'm going to get some sleep. You should probably follow suit."

Although excited, the two younger boys decided that being tired for a test wouldn't be a good idea and everyone went to bed early.

—Training ground seven, 7:00 AM—

"Good to see you here on time," Tsunade nodded to Naruto. "Your worthless sensei couldn't be bothered to make it, I see."

'Jiraiya-sensei is checking in with the women in his spy network. Is she trying to piss me off?' he thought. "I'm sure he's doing something very important. Stop trying to change the subject. You want to see me fight someone, right? Let's get on with it." Naruto was itching to show off.

"Very well. Itachi, explain the test," Tsunade ordered as Itachi appeared in a swirl of leaves.

Itachi pulled out a single bell, holding it up. "Naruto, you are familiar with the bell test?" Naruto nodded in reply. "Excellent. You must retrieve this bell before noon."

"Before we start, Itachi, I don't suppose you'd mind breaking a hundred ryo bill? I was hoping to get a drink before we started and there's a vending machine just down the street," Naruto asked, licking his lips.

Itachi sighed, pulling out his wallet. "Sure. Here," he said, annoyed, as he exchanged coins for the bill. Naruto darted off to the vending machine while Itachi opened the gate into the forest. Naruto returned with a sports drink and a small box of pocky. The sports drink was already mostly finished by the time Naruto caught up to Itachi in a clearing. "Are you ready to go now?" Itachi asked patiently, the three tomoe spinning in his eyes already.

"Yeah. Let's do it!" Naruto exclaimed, wiping his chin to make sure he hadn't dribbled after he set down the drink bottle and pocky box.

Itachi looked at Naruto from the middle of the clearing, saying, "Go." Itachi dodged a couple of kunai, keeping his distance from the blonde. "You'll have to close the distance, especially if that's the best you can do."

Naruto smiled, quickly running through hand signs before pulling out a single shuriken. "Shuriken Shadow Clone Jutsu." Naruto threw a single shuriken that multiplied into more than one hundred. Itachi pulled out a kunai to deflect some while he dodged the others. Naruto repeated the process, back to back, several times with different projectiles. Each time, Itachi dodged and blocked the shuriken or kunai and each time the cloned projectiles would disperse, leaving only the single projectile embedded around their little battlefield.

"I guess it's time to take this to the next level, eh Itachi?" Naruto smirked, channeling lightning chakra into his nervous system. Naruto's movements became faster than body-flicker and he struck at Itachi. Itachi blocked the first strike, barely deflected the second strike, but took the third strike hard in his leg.

"Your supplemental ninjutsu techniques are excellent. Do you have any offensive ninjutsu with range or is it all taijutsu and supplemental skills?" Itachi asked, standing and rubbing his leg.

Naruto created a single shadow clone as Itachi's sharingan morphed from the three-tomoe pattern to a three-pronged, curved shuriken. "Tornado Inferno." Naruto blew a massive torrent of air while the clone blew an equally massive gout of flame that mixed with the air. Itachi's eyes widened as he forced chakra that wracked his body to form around him.

"Susano'o." A massive yellow skeleton surrounded Itachi only to be covered in tendrils of red that formed an armored warrior forming a protective shell around the Uchiha. "Mixing two B-rank jutsus to form an A-rank or possibly S-rank combo. What else have you got?" Itachi asked, adding, "Hurry up, I don't want to keep this up for any longer than necessary."

Naruto nodded, standing next to one of his lost kunai, and formed a clone before a ball of visibly spinning chakra formed in his hand. As it formed, the chakra thinned further and further, emitting a high-pitched squeal, until only the sharingan could see the width. "Wind Style: Rasenshuriken." He threw the ball of cutting death at Itachi as the clone disappeared in a puff of smoke, but the red warrior absorbed it with its shield. Itachi flinched as the jutsu exploded and then faded into the shield.

While most of the spectators had gasped at the jutsu and the explosion, Kakashi widened both eyes as the light dissipated. "Naruto just beat Itachi," he commented.

"That was impressive, but Itachi is still protected by that ultimate defense," Tsunade said.

Kakashi smiled, "And yet Naruto has the bell."

Naruto held up the bell for everyone to see and Itachi looked down to his waist to see the spot empty. "How?" Itachi asked, letting his Susano'o fade and releasing his sharingan entirely.

"Flying Thunder God." Naruto flashed around the battlefield, picking up each projectile, before flashing behind Itachi, beaming a thousand watt smile. "I marked the bill I handed you earlier. You said you couldn't keep up the pace, so I created a clone and started that jutsu. I used a time-space jutsu to get behind you and grab the bell while you were distracted by that other jutsu."

Kakashi looked at Tsunade with an expression that looked suspiciously like "I told you so" without him actually saying it. Tsunade scoffed before jumping down into the clearing. "Itachi, report."

"Yes, Lady Hokage. Overall taijutsu: A-rank. Speed: S-rank. Power: B-rank. Technique: A-rank. Overall ninjutsu: A-rank. Wind style: S-rank. Fire Style: B-rank. Lightning Style: B-rank. Water and Earth Style: unknown. Chakra Shaping: A-rank. Overall genjutsu: unknown, estimated B-rank. Chakra Control: A-rank. Chakra Level: beyond my ability to measure."

"Naruto, do you agree?" the older blonde woman asked.

"My water and Earth Styles are D-rank. I've worked on them for a long time and that's the best they're going to get. Itachi is overestimating my genjutsu ability. I can break B-ranks, but I have very little practice with even that. I have never successfully used a genjutsu. My fuinjutsu is A-rank," Naruto listed. "But I still haven't figured out how to tag a spot on the fly like the Fourth could."

"Kakashi, get down here and report," Tsunade called, followed by the scarecrow of a man jumping to Tsunade's side.

"I agree with Itachi," Kakashi said quickly with a smile.

"Asuma," Tsunade called and the bearded jonin put out his cigarette before body-flickering into a bow before the Hokage.

"I was impressed with how well he incorporated his abilities to fight. Itachi and Kakashi are rarely wrong. I agree with their assessments," the man replied, adding, "However, I'd like to see what else he can do."

"Hmm. His abilities in open combat are very well developed. I wonder how fair it would be to put him in the exams, but the exams are required," Tsunade mused. "Naruto, you're going to supplement other teams while we assess your other abilities. You'll spend one mission with each team and each mission will be a chance for you to show off your abilities to infiltrate, follow orders, work with others, and so forth. Take the rest of today off."

Naruto nodded, picking up his sports drink and handing the pocky to Itachi saying, "I heard you like these," before bounding back into the village. Once Naruto was safely away, Tsunade turned to Itachi. "Did you strain your eyes?"

"No. I wish that we could have seen more of what he learned, but I'm glad that I didn't have to keep that going for long," Itachi responded.

"Do you have anything else to say now that he's gone?" Tsunade asked the three jonin.

"Yet another reason I'm glad I'm not in Akatsuki anymore: I don't think that I could capture him without getting killed," Itachi replied. "But that was the point of Jiraiya training him."

Kakashi nodded. "That last Wind Style jutsu is an instant-kill technique. I don't know how many of those he can do in one day, but I know how many he would try."

"I don't think I have enough chakra for even one of those things," Asuma added. "That's an impressive jutsu."

Kushina body-flickered from her place in the trees into the conversation. "He wasn't lying about sealing. I gave him a lot of the Uzumaki scrolls and some had Minato's notes in the margins."

"Do you want him for ANBU?" Tsunade asked, genuinely curious.

"He should do a stint in ANBU, but not yet. Once the Akatsuki threat diminishes, we can talk about it again," the red-haired ANBU commander evaluated.

—The Desert outside of the Village Hidden in the Sand—

"You have your man in the guards, yeah?" a blonde man wearing a black coat with red clouds pestered.

"Yes," the hunched form wearing a similar cloak rumbled. "Infiltrating the village won't be a problem. Don't fail."

"You get us in. I'll kidnap the Kazekage," the child-like blonde responded.

—Inside a tent filled with books and scrolls—

"There! I've found it, Lord Orochimaru!" Kabuto shouted. Orochimaru's pale form opened the tent flap, revealing ruins behind him as he entered.

"Show me," Orochimaru ordered as he read over the grey-haired medic-nin. "Guren!" he called without waiting for a response. "Change the excavation. Search for the location of the Uzumaki clan's mask shrine."

Chapter 16

"All I need is a couple of drops," Naruto pleaded. "And then we'll never have to do another 'Capture Tora' mission ever again."

"You're not bleeding the cat," Shikamaru responded. "We aren't supposed to hurt the troublesome little fucker."

"I don't want to have to chase that monster again. I did it eight times as a genin. I got my training out of it and I appreciate that genin gain valuable experience from chasing the little monster, but what I'm saying is that WE won't have to do it EVER again," Naruto explained.

"But you want ME to hold it down for you," Shikamaru responded with a sigh. "Besides, it'll be Tora's progeny by then."

"Dammit!" Naruto cursed, knowing that he wouldn't convince his lazy friend. He quickly changed his attitude though. "Have you worked with Ebisu before? He's the jonin-sensei for my evaluation this morning."

"Nope. I mostly coordinate events like the chunin exams and when I do go out on a mission, it's usually a chunin cell," Shikamaru explained. "Your mom has been bugging me to join ANBU, but the training program is too much work. And I don't want to do assassinations."

"That reminds me, why are you up so early?" Naruto flinched away from thinking about his mom ruthlessly killing people.

"I'm going to Sand for a few weeks to discuss the next chunin exam," Shikamaru replied. "And if I'm late, then I get stuck with chores on the trip."

Naruto laughed at how his friend was motivated by laziness. "Wow. They really have you figured out, eh?"

"Yeah, yeah. Are you going to come all the way to Sand or do you have somewhere else to be?" Shikamaru pestered.

Naruto stopped, calling, "See you when you get back!" before running back to the Hokage tower. He leapt in through the window, seeing Ebisu and three genin standing in front of the Hokage desk. "So what's today's challenge?" he smiled from the window.

One of the genin boys had brown, spikey hair and an absurdly long scarf. The other boy was tall with short brown hair and glasses. The girl had orange hair up in pigtails along with a skirt and long boots. All three looked unimpressed. Ebisu stood behind the trio wearing a dark bandana and sunglasses along with his matching dark clothes.

"Naruto will be leading Team Ebisu on their mission today," Tsunade repeated. "The daimyo's wife—"

Naruto interrupted, sighing, "Lost her cat, Tora. Again."

Tsunade nodded in affirmation. "Tora is a brown cat with a red bow tied behind its ear and amber eyes," Tsunade explained. "Bring it back here as soon as you capture it. You have until sunset to complete the mission. Dismissed," she finished, waving the ninja out of her office.

Naruto walked out with Team Ebisu. Ebisu turned to his team in the hall saying stoically, "Today I will grade the team on how you work as a team. Naruto, I will report to the Hokage on your ability to lead this team."

"Alright! Everyone meet at Ichiraku Ramen and we'll discuss strategies for this mission!" Naruto smiled at the shocked genin before running outside and across rooftops.

The three genin followed suit, leaving an exasperated Ebisu behind. Naruto sat at the large, circular stand, casually waiting for the genin to catch up. The three were out of breath from sprinting across rooftops, so Naruto pulled out three stools and motioned for the three to sit.

"I hope you like ramen 'cause I already ordered you all a bowl," Naruto started. "Before we start, we should all have a good breakfast. And while we wait, let's all introduce ourselves. Give your name, your likes and dislikes, and your dreams. I'll go first. My name is Naruto Uzumaki. I like…" he paused, muttering, "wow, now I know why Kakashi was quiet about it…" He looked at the confused genin continuing, "I like ramen and challenges. I dislike stuck up people and bullies. My dream is to be Hokage. And maybe bring peace to the ninja world."

The three just sat there while Ayame served up four bowls of ramen. The one with the scarf scoffed. "What's the point? You've read our personnel files."

"That's true: I'm only going to be your team leader for today, but so what? I'm gonna do my best!" Naruto smiled. "Now tell me about yourselves because none of that stuff except your name is in your personnel file."

"Tsk. Fine," the cranky boy in the scarf muttered. "My name is Konohamaru Sarutobi. I liked my grampa, but he's dead now. I like my team and upsetting the status quo. I dislike being treated like just another extension of gramps and people who kiss my ass. My dream is to prove that I'm better than even gramps," he finished sourly.

Naruto smiled, "As long as you work hard, you can do anything, Spikey. Pigtails, how about you?"

"Me?" the girl replied.

"You're the only one with pigtails," Naruto winked with a thousand-watt smile.

"My name is Moegi. I like gentlemen and I dislike perverted behavior. My dream is to enjoy life," she finished.

"Wow. You'd really hate my sensei… Glasses, you're up," Naruto said.

"My name is Udon. I like math and dislike noise. My dream is to be cool," the brown-haired boy explained.

"Great! Now eat your ramen. That cat is a pain," Naruto said as he set to eating his bowl of morning ramen. The three just stared. "Seriously. Eat. It's on me," Naruto explained when he noticed they weren't eating.

"We already ate breakfast, Uzumaki-sensei," Moegi replied.

"First mission requirement: a full stomach," Naruto held up his finger as he spoke before wolfing down his bowl. The genin trio looked on in horror before deciding that eating would be better than watching Naruto eat.

'This is the Red-hot Habanero's son? He's so undisciplined…' Ebisu thought as he watched.

Naruto finished and paid the bill while the younger ninjas finished. Naruto dug out the four radios from his pouch and checked the batteries and frequencies. "For this mission, we're going to stay in contact. These have enough range to cover almost the entire village. I'll be in the center of the village," Naruto started explaining as Konohamaru finished his bowl.

"Why won't you be helping us?" Konohamaru asked.

"I am. I'm just not doing the mission for you," Naruto replied. "You three will fan out around the village and search for Tora. Do not, I say again, DO NOT engage that cat alone. Once you locate Tora, let me know and we'll take it from there."

The three took a moment to put the radios on, attach the earpiece and microphones, and check to make sure the things worked. "Fan out. Focus on places cats enjoy, like sunlit areas and fish vendors," Naruto said over the radios as he hopped up on the rooftop of the nearest building. Ebisu appeared next to him and he cut his mic before saying, "You want to listen in? I brought an extra radio with an earpiece."

Ebisu nodded and Naruto handed him the equipment. "Report if you find anything. Otherwise, report in every fifteen minutes," Naruto radioed once Ebisu had gotten his radio set up. The three genin acknowledged the order.

—Seven hours later—

"Target spotted," Moegi's voice crackled over the radio.

Naruto smiled at Ebisu and killed his mic again. "Did you ever work with the Fourth Hokage?"

Ebisu frowned in confusion before answering, "Once or twice. Why?"

Naruto smiled at the jonin, "Grab my shoulder. Its late and this isn't cheating." Ebisu felt vertigo as Naruto teleported both of them to Udon. "I marked the radios," Naruto commented before turning to the confused genin saying, "Grab on." The three surprised Konohamaru who was on a rooftop trying to spot Naruto and Ebisu. "Grab on," Naruto instructed the young Sarutobi.

Ebisu silently ran behind a tree to vomit as soon as they appeared behind Moegi. "Moegi and Udon, prepare an ambush while Konohamaru sneaks around Tora and drives it towards the ambush. Quickly and quietly," Naruto whispered to the team. "Move out."

The three genin did as instructed and captured the cat with only a minor chase. Naruto pulled out a scroll and unsealed a kennel before the cat could struggle free.

"How did you know to bring a kennel, Naruto-sensei?" Konohamaru asked.

"The daimyo's wife spends a lot of time in the village. This mission comes up a lot," Naruto replied. "I thought I saw Team Neji on this mission a few days ago. Let's return to the Hokage and get paid, eh?"

Ebisu looked up. "We're walking!" he exclaimed, still looking a little green.

—The Village Hidden in the Sand—

The guard force lay dead except for a single man at the entrance to the Village Hidden in the Sand. He looked around at his comrades' bodies in horror before a kunai flew at him and sank into his throat. The last man gurgled helplessly as two figures in black cloaks featuring red clouds strolled through the entrance.

"I'll wait here," the hunched form rasped. "Hurry up."

"Don't worry. I'll show them my art," the blonde replied, summoning a massive clay bird.

—Uzumaki apartment, post-mission—

Naruto felt something was off as he opened the door. He wasn't sure exactly what it was until he closed the door behind him and heard noises coming from his mother's room. "Oh, goddammit," he muttered before calling, "I'm HO-OME!" as loudly as he could. The noises from his mother's room abruptly stopped.

He could hear clothes being rustled in Kushina's bedroom as he sat at the kitchen table wondering, 'Why me? If only Kushina's bedroom had a window, I could just pretend that I know nothing… *sigh* Might as well give them a hard time…'

Kushina came out of the bedroom, quickly closing the door behind her. "You're home early," she smiled. "How about we celebrate your short day?"

"Sure," Naruto replied. "But you need a shower first. You kinda smell like sex," he said scrunching up his nose.

"Naruto!" Kushina took a disappointed mother tone.

"Which would explain what I heard when I first came in," Naruto continued, making his best innocent face.

"NARUTO!" Kushina exclaimed, reddening.

"Should've put a sock on the doorknob or something," Naruto trailed, his expression now disturbed.

"NARUTO!" Kushina yelled.

"Bright side: I only heard noises. I didn't see anything, so I'm not all that scarred," Naruto went on. "Maybe, if my new daddy buys me ice cream, that'll make it all better," he said sarcastically.

Kushina turned a shade of embarrassed purple. "Okay! I get it! I'm caught! I'll put a sock on the doorknob next time."

Naruto shrugged, "It's what Jiraiya and I had worked out."

Kushina's eyes went wide, but before she could yell at him, he interrupted. "I was only half joking about the smell though. A shower isn't going to kill you, Kushina-sensei." Kushina slunk back to her bedroom, as embarrassed as she thought possible. He heard muffled voices and then the shower started. Ten minutes later, Kushina exited the bedroom with wet hair, closing the door behind her.

"Oh, no," Naruto shook his head. "He doesn't get to just leave. That ship sailed."

"Naruto," Kushina started sternly. "It isn't any of your business who I take to bed. I'm not a nun and I don't answer to you," she scolded.

Naruto thought about it for a minute. 'I really DON'T want to know. What if it's somebody I know? I'd never be able to look them in the eye ever again. But if don't know who it is, I won't be able to look anyone in the eye without thinking that it could be them. Motherfucker... Wow. That is the most oddly fitting curse for this situation. Huh.' He looked at Kushina before responding. "Now I have to know. Otherwise, I'm just going to assume it's someone really inappropriate like Kakashi or Guy."

"Oh for…" she nearly cursed before calling, "Just come out, Hiashi."

Hiashi Hyuuga opened the bedroom door with quiet grace. He silently nodded to Naruto before turning to Kushina. "Rain-check?" he quietly asked her.

Kushina nodded, saying, "I'll talk to you later." Hiashi calmly walked out the door, closing it as he left.

"Did not see THAT…" Naruto muttered.

"I think I've been sufficiently embarrassed for one day," Kushina replied, moving into the kitchen. "I'll cook something. Tell me about your day."

"Well, I was going to say that I spent the day coordinating a genin team on yet another Capture Tora mission, but in light of recent revelations, I think I'll be more honest. Ebisu and I spent most of the day on the rooftops rating the women in the village while the genin searched for the cat," Naruto explained, needling Kushina.

Kushina tut-tutted as she started cooking. "You're as bad as Jiraiya-sensei," she frowned.

"There is a fundamental truth to the world that I've learned these past few years and you've just hammered home again: people fuck. Jiraiya is a little over the top, but everyone does it," he laughed. "Besides, do you have any idea how many kunoichi tried to seduce Jiraiya versus how many assassins came after him?"

Kushina froze in place as she connected the dots. Finally, she asked, "Is that why he acts like a sex-obsessed teenager?"

"Not really. He is sex-obsessed," Naruto replied, hoping that the awkward conversation would end. "I ran into Shikamaru this morning."

"Oh?" Kushina prompted, glad for the change in subject.

"He was heading to Sand to help plan the next chunin exam," Naruto explained. "He told me you were trying to get him into ANBU."

"I've asked him once or twice," Kushina lied.

"Barring a war, he's smart to wait until he's older," Naruto replied. The sound of a key sliding into the lock put both Uzumakis on edge and paused the conversation, but it was only Itachi.

Itachi looked at the pair in the kitchen before settling into another kitchen chair. "How was today's test?" he asked Naruto.

"I took over a genin team for a 'Capture Tora' mission," Naruto rolled his eyes. "They caught the blasted thing."

"I'm happy for you. Have you had a chance to talk with Sasuke?" he asked, concerned.

"I haven't had much chance to talk to anyone. I was hoping Sasuke would be up for something tonight, but I haven't seen him," Naruto explained.

"Just be aware: he's got some idiosyncrasies," Itachi began delicately. "Orochimaru shattered him and we've done our best to help put the pieces back together, but he's not the same."

"Do you think those Akatsuki guys will come soon?" Naruto asked, trying to avoid the subject of Sasuke.

"Once word gets out that you're here, yes," Itachi confirmed. "I'm going to try again to break this seal in a few weeks, but I'd like to get a better idea of your skill with genjutsu in the meantime."

Naruto shrugged. "Sure. The Hokage said that I just have one more test tomorrow and then she'll know everything to have me back on the active roster."

"Do you know what you're doing tomorrow?" Kushina asked from the stove.

"I'll be at the hospital. Sakura's actually going to be testing me," Naruto replied with a smile.

Itachi shook his head while Kushina quietly laughed. Sakura would not have an easy day.

—Leaf Hospital, the next day—

"You don't even know the basic academy healing jutsu?" Sakura asked in shock.

"When we graduated, it wasn't a requirement!" Naruto protested. "How was I supposed to know? I've been gone for three years!"

Sakura glared at the blonde. "I'll teach it to you, but you've got to at least get some clones to read the new curriculum on healing jutsus," she admonished.

Naruto could tell that she'd kept up her physical training. The girl had toned muscles and she didn't seem to be ashamed of showing them off. Her shirt didn't quite cover the sleek abdominal muscles on her midriff. Her skirt left her toned legs in plain view as well. As always, she wore a sleeveless shirt, which exposed her sleek, toned arms.

'Still a little flat-chested though,' Naruto couldn't help thinking as he sized up his old teammate.

"Are you checking me out?" she asked angrily.

"Are you trying to shame me?" Naruto replied calmly.

"Umm…" she couldn't think of a response.

"Are you telling me that I should be ashamed of momentarily admiring your obvious physical beauty after three years away?" he pressed, knowing that she had no answer. Enjoying how flustered Sakura was becoming, he lowered his voice. "Or are you telling me that I should be more discrete about it?" he asked pointedly raising his eyebrows, the prankster in him taking over.

Sakura punched him hard enough for him to fly through the walls, but instead he turned into a cloud of smoke, leaving the wall undamaged. Sakura could hear Naruto's hysterical laughter outside the hospital.

"WHAT'S SO FUNNY, MORON?" screamed the enraged kunoichi, running out to confront the blonde.

"AHAHAHA… You… are so predictable… HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" he laughed, hunched over with tears in the corners of his eyes.

That only served to fuel Sakura's rage. She swung a hammer-fist into the laughing Naruto, but it was a shadow clone again. Sakura roared again, but Naruto simply laughed harder as he took her on a merry chase around the village, learning exactly how hard Sakura could hit as each clone dispelled.

Chapter 17

"Eagle, Dog, report," the ANBU Commander commanded expectantly.

"Fully recovered, Lady Fox," the man in the dog mask replied.

"Awaiting orders, Lady Fox," the woman in the eagle mask replied.

"Good. Report to the Hokage," the woman in the fox mask ordered. As the two disappeared, she whispered, "ANBU will miss you."

Eagle and Dog appeared in the Hokage's office in the traditional ANBU pose: on one knee with heads bowed. Tsunade looked up at the two additional ANBU in her office with a scowl. "Lady Fox didn't tell you anything, did she?"

The two shook their heads followed immediately by Tsunade shaking her head with a heavy sigh. "You're leaving ANBU for the regular shinobi forces. Kakashi, you'll be evaluating your team. Since Sasuke is on medical leave, the team will be short, but since you'll have two jonin-level shinobi, that shouldn't be a huge issue."

"Two?" Kakashi asked lazily after he removed his ANBU uniform, revealing the standard issue jonin suit and vest.

"Yes. Itachi evaluated Naruto's combat skill at jonin-level and Sakura is special jonin with medical ninjutsu. Ebisu suggested that Naruto had at least chunin-level leadership abilities. We were going to continue his evaluations, but something has come up," Tsunade explained.

Eagle had removed her ANBU uniform and replaced it with a standard blue jonin uniform as well. "Have I failed the ANBU corps, Lady Hokage?" she asked.

"No. But we need you in the normal forces. We'll reform Team Kurenai so that Kurenai can groom you to take over as a jonin and you can help Kiba and Shino get to the point where they can become jonin," Tsunade explained. "You'll be chunin for the time being, so dress accordingly. Go bring the rest of the team here. You already have a mission."

"Yes, Lady Hokage," Hinata responded, replacing the blue jonin suit with mesh armor and deep blue clothes.

"Team Kurenai is waiting at training ground ten. They've all mostly been on tracking and capture missions. They only know that you've been in ANBU for the last couple of years, so tell them whatever you want as long as it isn't classified," Tsunade explained, seemingly bored. Hinata nodded and quickly left.

Before Kakashi and Tsunade had a chance to continue their conversation, Naruto burst through the doors. "You ready to give up the hat yet, Aunty?" he beamed as he strolled next to Kakashi.

"Welcome back, Naruto," Kakashi smiled behind his mask. "How was your trip?"

"You know Jiraiya… Hookers and blackjack the whole time!" he joked with a giant thumbs up as Tsunade flinched.

'I wouldn't put it past the old goat, but I watched his match with Itachi,' she thought. "Team Kakashi, the ambassador from the Village Hidden in the Sand has requested assistance from us. There has been some sort of disaster—"

"Who else is going?" Naruto interrupted.

"I'LL GET TO THAT!" Tsunade roared. "There has been some sort of disaster and they requested medical assistance and trackers. Sakura is already gathering supplies and personnel from the hospital. Team Kurenai will be the tracking team. Kakashi will be in charge of the mission. Now, do you have any questions?"

"What happened in Sand?" Naruto asked.

"If we knew, I would have told you! Get moving!" Tsunade yelled angrily, throwing an empty sake bottle at the receding pair.

Naruto and Kakashi leapt across rooftops from the Hokage tower toward the hospital. "How soon do we need to be in Sand?" Naruto asked.

"As soon as possible," Kakashi responded. "It usually takes a day or two to get to Sand from here at top speed."

Naruto laughed, taking out one of his marked kunai. "Nah. I can get there MUCH faster. Here," he said, handing Kakashi the kunai. "Be somewhere private in thirty minutes. I'll be scouting Sand," he said with a wave before he disappeared.

'This isn't one of those special kunai that Minato-sensei had, but it's got the same formula on the blade. Interesting,' Kakashi thought as he made his way to the hospital.

—Five hundred meters outside the Village Hidden in the Sand—

'I guess it was a good idea to leave this on the road instead of inside the village. Who knows if it would have survived whatever happened,' Naruto thought standing next to one of his markers and watching the Sand-nin squads clearing bodies away from the outer walls of the desert city. He jogged, slowly and deliberately, to the nearest squad, waving his arms to get their attention.

"Who—" one of the Sand-nin started before the commander jumped down.

"Naruto! You got here fast!" the blonde woman shouted. "We barely sent the request to Leaf half an hour ago."

Naruto stopped at the fan-wielding woman's side. "Advanced scout. We're putting together a response, but I wanted to get as much information as possible. What happened?"

"Gaara was taken by some crazy terrorist with exploding clay. Most of the injuries are blasts, burns, and poison," Temari explained. "Kankuro was among the injured. I know we already owe you, but if you can help him…"

"I would have offered even if the Hokage hadn't sent me. Has Shikamaru arrived yet?" Naruto asked.

"Shika's coming?" she asked, expectantly.

'Cutesy nickname. File that away for later,' Naruto thought. "He was on his way to discuss the next chunin exam. I imagine the Kazekage would have been his first stop though, so if you haven't spotted him then he probably isn't here yet," he explained. "More important things, Temari. Which way did they go and how did they leave?"

"Ummm…" the flustered teen started before controlling herself. "They were flying on some giant clay bird and they went that way," she pointed away from the village.

"Goddamn fliers," Naruto cursed. "I'll be back with the teams soon: maybe an hour? If you can pass word along and send someone Sakura might know, it will help considerably."

"Sakura…" Temari wondered aloud. "Who is she?"

"Tsunade's apprentice, apparently. She'll be leading the medical support team. We're sending half a dozen of our best medic-nins along with a hefty supply load. Sakura is the team leader for the medics," Naruto guessed. "I'll be back with them shortly," he waved before disappearing.

'Glad I left one in the apartment,' Naruto thought as his space-time jutsu planted him in the living room. He didn't pay attention to what was actually happening on the couch as he ran out the window toward the Hokage Tower.

'Good thing we were only watching TV,' Itachi and Yugao thought as they watched Naruto suddenly appear and then speed out the window.

"This is NOT a good date, Itachi," the purple-haired woman coldly stated. "Get your own place before you ask me out again," she said, indignantly walking out of the apartment.

"Of course," Itachi calmly replied while inwardly cursing.

Naruto leapt through the window to the Hokage's office, interrupting her meeting with Team Kurenai. "Is this the tracking team?" he asked.

Tsunade sighed, thinking, 'Why can't he just use the door? People are supposed to use doors.' Tsunade turned to Naruto, saying, "Yes. This is the tracking team."

"Anyone able to track flying prey? Or able to fly, for that matter?" he asked.

"Shino or Kiba should be able to track them, but the trail will have gone cold by the time we get there," Kurenai answered.

Naruto looked like he ignored the answer, turning instead to Tsunade. "Do you have anyone who has a flying summon or something that you can spare?"

Tsunade thought for a moment, coming up with nothing, before bellowing, "Shizune! Find someone with some sort of flying summon!"

"Yes, Lady Hokage!" a shout came from beyond the door.

"Explanations, Naruto," Tsunade said, leveling a withering glare at the blonde teen.

"Went to Sand. Got a field report. Came back. Adjusting the team before we leave. Anything else?" he asked.

Kiba could no longer contain himself. "HOW THE HELL DID YOU DO THAT?" he screamed.

Naruto silently blinked at the outburst before responding. "Hiraishin," he said, expecting that to explain everything. Kurenai and Hinata gasped, while Shino remained statue-still, but Kiba looked confused.

"What does that even mean?" the animal trainer asked, exasperated.

Kurenai grabbed his shoulder and shook her head before whispering, "You'll find out later." She looked at Naruto for a reply as she trailed, "We leave for Sand…"

"Kakashi is assembling the medical team. They'll probably be staging at the hospital," he said as he pulled out a watch. "I have five minutes to get there. You have twenty to pack and meet us."

Kurenai and Hinata nodded before dragging the rest of the team out. Shizune returned with a personnel folder and a worried look.

"Well?" Tsunade asked, expectantly.

"We only have one person available who fits those criteria, but you're not going to like it…" Shizune hinted.

"If we only have one, we only have one. Spit it out, Shizune," Tsunade angrily intoned.

"His name is Sai and he used to be a member of ANBU before the dustup," Shizune explained.

"Great. One of his men. And you're sure this is the only one?" Tsunade asked hopefully.

"Sai is the only one currently available who has any flight capabilities," Shizune nodded.

"Naruto, go meet with Kakashi and tell him about the addition of Sai. Tell Kakashi that Sai is the only one available and that you said it was important to have him," Tsunade instructed, hoping Naruto knew what he was doing.

"Got it," Naruto nodded before jumping back out of the window. Naruto sped along to the hospital, mentally reviewing the hand-signs for the jutsu. 'I hate jutsus with hand-signs. They take too long and I'm never sure if I got the signs right,' he thought before arriving at the hospital.

"Kakashi said that you were coming with us to Sand," Sakura called out, catching Naruto just as he arrived.

"Yeah," he nervously replied. "I've got to talk to Kakashi real quick. Is everything going to be ready to leave in about fifteen minutes?"

Sakura looked shocked. "It'll take two days to get there! We still have to pack bags and personal stuff—"

"It's been taken care of," Naruto interrupted. "Just make sure that you have everything you need for the mission here in fifteen minutes." And with that, Naruto focused on the kunai he gave Kakashi, pouring his chakra into the Lightning Rod, also known as the Flying Thunder-God.

Kakashi was reading high up in a tree, having stabbed the kunai into a branch across from his perch. Naruto appeared before his watch could sting him with its silent alarm needle. Naruto looked around, realizing that he was in one of the large trees in front of the hospital and that the staging area was just in sight.

"Gaara was abducted by someone with a giant bird-thing so I asked the Hokage to add someone with a similar capability to the team. His name is Sai and he's the only person currently available," Naruto explained. "She was cursing about Sai being one of his men, if that means something."

Kakashi nodded. "I take it you plan to use a space-time ninjutsu to transport us to Sand?" Kakashi tried to confirm.

"Yeah, but I don't usually use the technique on this scale, so I have to review my notes on the hand-signs. Don't worry: I probably won't send us into a dark void of nothingness for all eternity," he smiled, pulling out his notebook and reviewing the hand-signs.

"Maybe I should read you the hand-signs for the jutsu as you perform it, just to be safe," Kakashi tried to suggest without letting any abject terror into his voice.

Naruto thought for a moment before responding, "That's probably a good idea. I'll study the jutsu until everyone is ready." Naruto read his little notebook in a pose eerily similar to Kakashi reading his Make-out Tactics.

In what seemed like no time at all, Sakura called out, "NARUTO! KAKASHI! WE'RE READY! GET YOUR LAZY ASSES DOWN HERE!"

Naruto and Kakashi turned to see all of the medical staff present as well as Team Kurenai and an overly pale teenager wearing a tanto and the fakest smile anyone could imagine. The two spikey-haired ninja jumped down, the silver-haired one pocketing his treasured book and the blonde-haired one still deep into his treasured book.

"Everyone, please get together in a small bunch around the supplies," Naruto instructed as he handed the dog-eared book to Kakashi. "It starts on this page. There are fourteen signs."

"What's going on? We need to pick everything up and go if we want to make it to Sand soon," Sakura asked.

Kiba leaned over as he huddled in to the supplies and said, "Time-space jutsu. Naruto is going to teleport us there."

Sakura tilted her head at Kurenai who only nodded, prodding Sakura to mutter, "Someone could have told me earlier…"

Naruto stood in front of everyone, running through the signs for the jutsu. 'It's just like a summoning. No big deal. I've got this,' Naruto thought to himself. "Okay, Kakashi. Read me the signs."

Kakashi read the signs slowly enough for Naruto to perform each one perfectly. When there was no puff of smoke or disorientation at the end, Kiba looked up and exclaimed, "Was that it?"

Kakashi turned and said, "Dry run," as if that should explain everything and the pair of spikey-haired ninja repeated the process, except for the massive summoning symbols that extended from the center of the group after Naruto slammed his hand to the ground, wrapping up and around them before the scenery suddenly changed to desert.

"Take a moment. That can be disorienting sometimes," Naruto explained as he jogged off, looking for Temari and the other Sand-nin.

"Oi! Temari! That Leaf kid is back!" one of the Sand-nin shouted as Naruto ran up the road. Temari stopped what she was doing and confirmed that Naruto was indeed jogging up the road. She looked out further from her perch on the sand-blown wall, noticing a group of ninja with large cases.

She jumped down to stop Naruto's jog saying, "Holy crap! I thought you were kidding about that hour!"

Naruto beamed a smile, responding, "Nope. I brought everyone. Get someone out here to help bring the supplies. We've got the tracking team and someone who can get us airborne, so we might be able to catch up to whoever took Gaara if we hurry."

Temari looked dumbfounded for a moment before she yelled orders at several of the genin cleaning up the area. Team Kurenai, Kakashi, and Sai quickly approached Naruto as the Sand genin began shuffling supplies under Sakura's watchful eye.

"Sai, how long will it take to get airborne?" Kakashi asked the strange, pale teen.

Sai pulled out a scroll and brush with ink, painting three birds and bringing the massive creatures to life before the assembled Leaf ninjas with a strange release of ninjutsu. "They are ready, Captain," the boy fake smiled.

"That's great Sai, but the tracking team hasn't got a lead yet. Just wait here while they do their thing," Kakashi gently explained. Sai kept his fake smile on while Shino and Kiba started searching, Kiba sniffing and Shino dispersing his insects. Temari had some of Gaara's things, which were seeped with his chakra and scent, brought out for reference.

After a few minutes, Shino spoke up. "I believe I have them," he explained from inside a light insect swarm.

"Sai, Kiba, and Shino: take the lead. Naruto and Kurenai: ride together. I'll ride with Hinata," Kakashi ordered as everyone reacted quickly.

The three ink birds were airborne and flying with Shino pointing them in the direction of the chakra trail. A giant, flying, clay bird animated by chakra wasn't exactly difficult for Shino to follow, even a few hours later.

Hinata simply looked forward, the veins near her eyes exposed showing her byakugan active. Kakashi kept on the lookout, but asked, "Are you going to tell him?"

"That when we were children, I had a massive crush on him? I think not," Hinata responded calmly.

"You should. Nobody lives forever," Kakashi advised.

"I've grown up since then. I don't stammer. I was in ANBU. I've assassinated people. I've seduced men and women for information and blackmail. I'm not the same shy little girl," Hinata coldly replied. "I'm a kunoichi."

"You still cry after you kill someone," Kakashi quietly observed. 'And sometimes after you've seduced them,' he thought, knowing that kunoichi often had harsh seduction missions that men simply couldn't perform. "You aren't as cold as you pretend."

"Shut up, Kakashi," Hinata quietly replied, desperately trying not to cry at the things Kakashi had forced her to remember. 'I wish I had my ANBU mask,' she thought, watching Naruto talk to Kurenai.

"Who is he?" Naruto asked.

"What?" Kurenai was startled.

"I keep better track of things than people think," Naruto began. "Hinata has been in ANBU for more than two years. Your team wasn't reformed to track, since all of them could probably do that without you. This is something else. Most probably, you are considering retirement. Kiba and Shino could be trained by any jonin to take the jonin exam, which only leaves Hinata. It makes sense. Both of you are kunoichi. You are probably training her to replace you in the ranks of the jonin and it seems a bit rushed, which means you plan on retiring."

Kurenai looked at the blonde, slightly flustered. "And that means that a man must be involved?" she questioned.

"Not necessarily. But you're wearing some knick-knacks that aren't entirely your style, which indicates a relationship or admirer. You flush slightly when exposed to the scent of male sweat, which indicates that you are heterosexual. My top guesses are Ebisu, Genma, and Asuma, by the way," Naruto finished.

"It's Asuma," Kurenai replied, too bewildered to keep it quiet. "How did you figure all that out?"

Naruto chuckled before responding, "A shinobi must be observant and look underneath the underneath. Also, I spent decades learning about people."

"You were only gone for three years," Kurenai casually retorted.

"Shadow clones, sustained transformations, and tampering with records got me into twelve undergraduate programs, three doctoral programs, and two research fellowships," Naruto boasted with a smile. "I insisted on some long-term infiltration practice."

Kurenai just stared at the over-educated sixteen year-old. "I'm almost afraid to ask…"

"Jiraiya didn't let me finish any of the programs though. He said I had other things to work on," he lamented before realizing that the birds had changed their flight. Naruto's demeanor went from casual to tense instantly. "It looks like we might be close; we're descending."

Chapter 18

"Deidara of the bomb," Kakashi rasped. "His explosions are earth chakra based, but be careful: he might have new tricks."

An explosion rocked the fleeing ink birds as Naruto and Kakashi stood together, facing the cloak-wearing man, kunai already strewn everywhere. "You both jumped into the belly of the beast, yeah?" the longhaired blonde smirked.

"Lightning beats earth," Naruto intoned as his hands flashed through signs.

'Naruto doesn't use hand signs for his jutsus. Those are signs for lightning jutsu. That sequence looks like my Chidori. No, that's closer to the Raikiri! But those first few weren't right,' Kakashi rapidly thought, his sharingan already exposed. 'That isn't my Lightning Cutter…'

A ball of light blue lightning chakra began to swirl in Naruto's hand. The glowing ball seemed to pulse in Naruto's hand. But Kakashi could see that the lighting chakra of his own Lightning Cutter swirled faster than the plain chakra or wind chakra of Naruto's other rasengan, creating a barely-controlled lightshow.

"Rasen-raikiri." The ball of lightning seemed to teleport from Naruto's hand before the air cracked and smelt of ozone just to the side of Deidara. Tendrils of lightning lashed out; each cracking and chirping with lightning and sparks. Several dozen yards were enveloped in the bright, barely blue light as the jutsu released its stored energy.

Deidara jumped away from the burst, but could feel the tingle of shock running through his entire body. The clay clone he'd left behind to take the brunt of the attack simply disfigured into uselessness. Deidara's hands sped through several signs of his own, but as they clasped in the last one nothing happened.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" the enraged bomb-maker shouted, landing not far away from the spikey-haired duo.

Naruto smiled. "I told you: lightning beats earth. If you don't have anything other than that clay, I suggest you surrender. It can't detonate."

'Lord Pain was right! Itachi told the Leaf EVERYTHING about us!' Deidara thought. 'Let's see how they like this new lightning clay. Heh heh heh.'

Deidara reached behind his back, into a third pouch and began molding the strange green-hued clay. "Let's see how you like this piece of art, yeah?"

Kakashi sped behind Deidara, but was only able to watch a handful of clay birds streak toward him as the lightning in the air sparked and detonated this new clay. Kakashi flew back from the force of the blast, spinning in the air, and only able to right himself, landing against one of the few trees in the area just before he would have smashed into it.

'They guessed that Itachi told us everything he knew. Of course, there will be surprises. Dammit,' Naruto thought, cursing himself. He knew that the field of lightning he'd set up to disrupt Deidara's bombs would impair the bomb-maker, but he hadn't known that Deidara now had bombs that could explode with lightning instead of earth chakra.

"Naruto! Stall him!" Kakashi shouted at his former student, vanishing into a camouflage jutsu.

Naruto lit his nerves and muscles with lightning chakra to enhance his speed and reactions before charging into the longhaired blonde. Every strike of Naruto's hit with a sickening thud and crunch, but none seemed to affect Deidara until Naruto hit the man in his chest with a mule-kick. That final crunch sounded less like bones breaking and more like glass shattering and Naruto disappeared from the man on instinct, instantly reappearing at one of the marked kunai that littered the area.

The clay clone erupted in a devastating blast of heat and shockwaves, leveling the ground for several yards. Naruto searched for either Kakashi or the mad bomber as the blast wave settled, but couldn't spot Kakashi.

"Kamui." Kakashi's sharingan showed a strange, three-pronged shape instead of the wheel with three tomoe as the bag on Deidara's back was sucked into nothingness just before a kunai sank into Deidara's back where the bag was only moments before.

'Damn it! My lightning clay is gone and the area is saturated with lightning chakra. Where is that fool Tobi?' Deidara thought, bleeding and unsteady on his feet. 'I need to get the hell outta here!'

"Where is your companion? What did you do with Gaara?" Naruto asked, waiting for confirmation.

Deidara ripped open his shirt, exposing an open mouth on his chest. "As if I'd tell you anything," he spat. 'I wanted to use this on Itachi, but I don't have any other options. My regular clay can't detonate in this static field and that bastard copy-nin took my lightning clay somehow,' he thought, pulling the stitches out of his chest.

Naruto pumped lightning chakra through his limbs again to strike at the mad bomber before the man could complete whatever ultimate jutsu he was attempting. Naruto's fist struck the man in the face with a sickening crack, lifting him off his feet, and sending him flying. Deidara limply sailed several yards before landing in a slumped pile.

Kakashi appeared in a shimmer, his jutsu cancelled. "Kakashi-sensei, I'll tie him up while you catch up to the tracking team," Naruto commanded. Kakashi nodded in response and disappeared in a swirl of leaves in the direction of the ink birds.

Naruto pulled out ninja wire and began to truss up his catch. "Hey!" one of the Sand ninja called to Naruto, interrupting him.

"Hey," Naruto turned to the group.

"We're here to back you up," the eldest of the three explained. "But I see you have everything under control here."

Naruto looked to his recently downed prey before responding, "Yeah. We got lucky."

As Naruto turned back to the new arrivals, Deidara's hands, filled with all of his remaining clay, shot from his pouches into the strange mouth on his chest. "NOW YOU'LL SEE MY ULTIMATE MASTERPIECE!" the mad bomber screamed, his body already burning out like a fuse.

Lightning chakra already coursed through Naruto's eyes, causing the world to move in slow motion. He could see the buildup of energy, not because of any special properties of his eyes, but because the man's body was visibly converting chakra and flesh into an immense and unavoidable explosion. Naruto charged his body with lightning chakra and streaked for the newly arrived Sand ninja, hoping to grab them before the blast could disintegrate them all.

The Sand-nins could only see the fuse-like body of Deidara beginning to explode before the blonde Leaf-nin tackled them and they were suddenly five hundred yards outside of their own village falling to the ground. They barely had a chance to hit the ground before a gargantuan rumble shook the ground and a massive plume several miles in the distance shone like a second sun.

Naruto activated his hiraishin to get to Kakashi, hoping that Kakashi had gotten clear of the blast. He was rewarded with a massive wave of energy blowing him off his feet when he arrived at the marked kunai. Naruto tumbled with Kakashi for several dozen yards before the two managed to right themselves in a display of acrobatic athleticism.

Both men stood braced against the wave for several long seconds before it finally died down. Naruto spoke first. "That guy was a blast," he commented flatly, slightly out of breath from using so much chakra.

Kakashi looked at Naruto. "That wasn't even remotely funny," Kakashi responded humorlessly.

Naruto just gave an amused smirk and turned in the direction of the tracking team. "It'll probably be better if you caught up to the team while I grab that stupid jonin who distracted me."

"You didn't finish tying up the bomb guy?" Kakashi asked incredulously.

Naruto sheepishly responded, "They caught my attention before I finished. I had to either accept a potential back-stab from an unknown or hope that the guy I knocked out stayed out."

Kakashi made a face behind his mask that Naruto recognized as a frown, but said, "No helping it then," as he turned toward the tracking team. "Catch up with that Sand jonin."

Naruto nodded before dusting himself off and disappearing to reach the Sand team he'd just moved to safety.

—With Kakashi—

Kakashi ran through the sparse vegetation at his top travel speed, which was damn fast. Three years of operations and training under Kushina Uzumaki had forced him into the best shape of his life. His stamina and chakra reserves were so large that he could use his Raikiri nine times in a day and using the Mangekyo Sharingan didn't put him into a two-week coma.

Kakashi ran past a spot that was covered in ink spatter, spotting the tracking team behind the cover of some of the thicker trees in the bare area. 'I don't know why more Hyuuga don't go into ANBU. Hinata was a flawless assassin. The Gentle Fist is almost untraceable,' he couldn't help thinking as he approached the tracking specialists. "Yo," he waved a two-fingered salute at the bunch.

"What the hell was that?" Kiba demanded as Akamaru barked.

Kakashi ignored him and turned to Hinata and Kurenai. "Report," he stated professionally.

Hinata looked to Kurenai, who simply stood clutching her belly. "The blast wave dispelled the ink birds. Kurenai-sensei thought she might be pregnant before the mission, but hadn't gotten tested yet, and is concerned that the effects of the blast may cause a miscarriage," Hinata quickly rattled. "No casualties and only minor injuries, but the mission is a failure. Deidara doubled back and the other trails dead-end here."

—With Naruto—

"How long have you been a jonin?" Naruto asked angrily.

"I made jonin this year," the man in the traditional Sand turban and vest smugly replied.

"And you didn't think to let me finish binding him before calling out or approaching?" he questioned the man.

"It looked like you had it under control," the man tried to defend.

"You two," he pointed at the two other ninjas. "You're staying here. You," he grabbed the jonin's arm, "are coming with me," he ground out as he activated the hiraishin to take him to Kakashi.

"Kakashi-sensei, Kurenai-sensei: what's the situation?" Naruto asked as the scenery changed from desert to scrub and the Sand-nin turned to lose his lunch again.

Kurenai looked over at the hurling jonin before responding, "No casualties, only minor injuries, but we've lost the trail. The explosion wiped the area clean, but before that, we found the end of the trail. Kiba reported the smell of a dimensional shift, which indicates a time-space jutsu user," she repeated, adding, "He never would have known that smell if it hadn't been for you, Naruto."

'He's gone then. After everything… After Jiraiya and I gave him a new seal… After all of our conversations… All of our plans…' Naruto thought.

Naruto nodded in response, taking the information in. He turned to the Sand-nin, wondering what Temari had been thinking sending a team after them. 'She must not have had a choice. It smells too much like politics to be actual support. This guy is good enough to catch us, but not smart enough to let me finish binding a prisoner,' he angrily thought, before calming himself. 'Then again, everyone makes mistakes.'

"Anyone know a light-show type jutsu?" Naruto asked redundantly as Kakashi nodded.

Kakashi smiled behind his mask, saying, "I've got plenty."

The Sand-nin was confused, but Naruto responded, "Get to where the trail ends, then send up as big a flare as you can manage every ten minutes until Sand arrives. Keep the area as clear as possible, just in case any of the Sand techs can figure anything out from residue or something."

Naruto sighed heavily, dreading what he now had to do. "I'll go report that the mission failed and Gaara is lost, presumed dead."

"Naruto, you don't have to do this. Kurenai can deliver the news," Hinata interjected, concerned.

"No. If I plan to become a leader, I'll have to deliver bad news. I owe it to Gaara to tell his family, personally. We were friends, when we met again, after the incident in the arena," Naruto resolved.

He appeared again outside of the Village Hidden in the Sand, but made the journey from the entrance gates to the council building where he knew Temari would be busily working at a walk.

Temari looked at him and read the emotions on his face. She dropped the papers she had in her hands. An older man in councilor's robes with half his face covered from the cloth draping from his turban opened the door behind Naruto. Naruto maintained eye contact with Temari before explaining, "We weren't able to catch them. Akatsuki has a time-space jutsu user. The trail went dead."

Temari looked at him still in disbelief, her fears violently intruding on her self-control. She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. Her form hunched over the desk, barely remaining upright. "Gaara…" she barely managed to croak.

"We didn't find a body…" Naruto tried to sound hopeful, but it was clear that he wasn't.

"He's dead. Isn't he?" Temari looked up at him, the hope in her eyes slowly fading.

"We didn't find a body," Naruto responded lamely.

The councilman closed the doors, keeping his back to the young kunoichi. "I have news from the hospital," the man intoned, still facing away as he looked down. "Kankuro is going to make a full recovery, thanks to Tsunade's apprentice."

Temari looked at the two men in her now dead baby-brother's office. "I— I… What do I do?" she pleaded.

Naruto held her shoulders, looking into her eyes. He could see the sadness and despair building. "You hold together. There will be plenty of time to fall apart later. People need you. Your brother needs you. Your village needs you. Your home needs you," he finished with conviction and fire that he hoped would inspire the young woman.

"Hold together. I don't know if I can…" she responded pitifully.

She was shocked when she felt a sting on her face as Naruto slapped her. "You don't have a choice. There isn't anyone else," Naruto said harshly. "Now pick yourself up and stop making Gaara ashamed to call you 'family.'"

Temari picked herself up, wiping her eyes. She took several choked breaths before she finally steadied and looked at Naruto. "They took my baby brother, Naruto. They tried to kill us all, but they TOOK him," she emphasized. "If my brother is alive, bring him back. If he isn't, bring me their heads." She walked out, making her way to the hospital, leaving Naruto and the councilman alone.

Naruto looked at the older jonin. "You have to hold together too. I know that you've gone into administration since the last time I was here, but you can't let all of the paperwork leave you weak," Naruto vainly tried to needle.

"The last time you were here was a much happier time, Naruto," the man spoke, still facing away from Naruto.

"The last time I was here, Baki, we took Gaara to that brothel with Kankuro and Jiraiya to celebrate his confirmation as Kazekage," Naruto responded with a sad smile. "That was only six months ago."

"A happier time…" the man trailed before leaving, a stoic expression once again on his face as he left.

"You have to hold yourself together," Naruto whispered alone in the Kazekage's office.

A/N: Breaking my "one author's note only" rule just to say that Gaara dies so that I can write about Yugito Nii without compromising the story. Plus, it creates some tensions between the Leaf and the Sand that I'd like to explore more than retreading the Cloud/Leaf tensions in canon. I really like Gaara in general and would love to write something involving him when I finish this story, but I'm not going to do flashbacks. Flashbacks in literature are called "prequels." (The authors words..not mine)

Chapter 19

"BREAK THE SEAL!" Naruto growled as glowing red-orange chakra leaked from tenketsu all over his body, covering him like a cloak. A single tail began to form behind the blonde, his form already taking on feral teeth, claws, and red eyes.

Itachi stood in the center of a large array of kanji, deep underground. He wore only shorts while paint covered his bare torso in patterns and kanji that he knew he'd regret later. The seal in his mouth slowly began to wrap around him as he attempted to overpower it. He knew that he didn't have enough chakra to do it, but that was part of the plan.

A woman's voice called out, "He's almost out of chakra and the seal is barely weakened!"

'Holy shit, this going to hurt…' Itachi thought.

—10 days earlier—

"Naruto, get up!" Kushina yelled through the door to a bedroom. The apartment she'd lived in with just Naruto was long since gone, replaced with the four room apartment shared by Naruto, Sasuke, Itachi, and Kushina. She knew enough not to intrude on a teenage boy in the morning, but Naruto had been drowning in sorrow since the failed mission to Sand. "Itachi? Would you—"

"No," he interrupted. "Not after last time you asked when I walked in on Sasuke and The Perverted Pink Howler-monkey. No way. Not again," he said adamantly. "That scene haunts my dreams," he muttered with a shudder.

"Hey!" Sakura retorted from the kitchen, noticing the older Uchiha shudder.

"If you didn't want me to call you a Perverted Pink Howler-monkey, you shouldn't have let me catch you fucking my baby brother like one," Itachi coldly commented to the girl, going back to the little, orange book Kakashi had lent him.

Sasuke shrugged. His eyes had burned out again, so he was sitting on the couch with gauze around his eyes. 'I don't remember having sex with Sakura,' he thought. 'Was I asleep? Did she rape me? Or drug me? Or drug me and rape me? Is she pregnant? I'm not ready to be a father! GAH! I can't think! I want my eyes back! Why can't I remember anything without my eyes?'

Sakura could see Sasuke facing in her direction with suspicion plastered on his face. 'He's having memory problems again,' she thought. "I'm just here to check on you. I know how disoriented you get after you burn out your eyes," she explained, the pain in her voice obvious to Sasuke's heightened sense of hearing. "I'm not trying to get back together."

Sasuke ignored the forlorn girl and let his senses reach out into Naruto's room. Naruto wasn't alone, but the barely clothed kunoichi was already scampering out the window, pulling on clothes as she leapt. "He's alone. You can go in," Sasuke said, facing Kushina and wondering if he could get enough pain medication knock himself out.

Kushina slowly opened the door, keeping her eyes to one corner. She silently cursed at Naruto for not obeying the rule he'd explained to her. "You're supposed to put something on the door when you have a 'guest,'" she commented, jokingly.

"Sorry," he mumbled, pulling on shorts under the covers. "I forgot."

"It's been a week. Are you going to do something productive?" she asked.

Naruto sighed. "I guess. I don't have much choice anyway, do I? I have to go before the jonin council today one way or another."

"The Hokage can't promote certain people to jonin without a vote from the jonin council. It's one of the three things that requires a vote. Don't you want to be a jonin?" Kushina asked, closing the door behind her and looking out the open window.

'I've been moping for too long. I don't know how Tsunade did this for years. It's high time I get off my ass and get working. The world isn't going to save itself, dattebayo! Stupid tic,' he resolved. 'Let's see how much I can rile mo— Kushina-sensei…'

"Does it matter? Akatsuki doesn't care what rank I am and Itachi still can't break that stupid seal. Sasuke is has the memory of an Alzheimer's patient every time he burns out his eyes. We're all doomed anyway," he lamented with as much melodrama as he could muster, turning to sit on the bed with his head in his hands and his feet on the floor.

"Naruto Uzumaki! You stop that defeatist attitude this instant!" Kushina furiously scolded. "You've never given up before and I'll be damned if you're going to start now!"

"I know," Naruto replied with a smile. "I figured that I've been sitting here long enough anyway, but it took you long enough to try to kick me out of it." As Kushina's face started to scrunch up in annoyance, he reached under the covers. "By the way, how much do you figure Jiraiya would pay," he started as he removed his hand, "for these slightly used panties?" he asked as he held up a tiny thong.

"NARUTO!" Kushina yelled loud enough for Ino to hear it from several blocks away as she hopped across rooftops. 'Did I get him in trouble?' Ino thought. 'I feel like I forgot something important…'

—Hokage Tower, later that day—

"Congratulations, Naruto," Hinata bowed. She wasn't part of the jonin council yet mostly because her work in ANBU had never required the official rank. It wasn't as if it was difficult to become a jonin, but Naruto had special circumstances. He was closely related to several key figures within the village, so the jonin council had to vote on his ability in order to avoid the perception of favoritism on the part of the Hokage.

"Thanks Hinata!" Naruto smiled, finally feeling back to his old self.

"Naruto…" Shikamaru trailed from a shadow. "I need your help…"

"I think I might need your help too, actually. I did something pretty stupid," Naruto admitted. "Why don't we all get some lunch?"

Shikamaru turned, his face gloomy. "We can eat at my place," the normally lazy teen turned and leapt over rooftops.

'Shikamaru is travelling like a ninja. On purpose. Outside of a mission. Shit…' Naruto couldn't help thinking as he followed with Hinata in tow.

"Naruto, I wanted to ask you something," Hinata said as they followed Shikamaru, still slightly flustered. 'Stupid crush. Why can't I treat this like a normal seduction mission?' she scolded herself.

"You've heard the rumors about me and a few of the kunoichi our age, I suppose," Naruto sighed. If Itachi hadn't described, in eye-melting detail, what he'd caught Sakura doing with Sasuke, he was sure she would have been the one to admonish him for being a "pervert."

Hinata blushed slightly recalling the rumor Anko had told her. 'That woman really has no shame,' Hinata thought. 'And what she suggested he does with shadow clones…' Hinata mumbled, "I've heard rumors, but they seem a little… well… obscene."

Naruto looked a little disappointed. "Oh. I see. You don't approve," he replied.

Hinata balked. She'd actually done dirtier things than most of the rumors with the exception of Anko's. She shook her head. "No! I just wondered if any of them were true," she squeaked more than said.

#naruto #Kushina lives fanfiction

3 notes · View notes

angellgguk · 3 years

Note

Classic powerful ceo seokjin×unwilling student reader!He goes to a university to deliever an inspiring speech,reader caughts his eyes,he stalks and gets obessed with her,promises her to get a job in his company but makes her a trophy wife.10-11 year age gap?

If you can plz make it non-con.

[ genre : smut ]

[ content warning : dubcon/noncon age gap (reader is 24 and seokjin is 34/35 he has a few strands of grey lmao), trophy wife (ig idk), slight dumbification, breeding, virginity loss, size difference, cervix fucking THIS IS A MESS]

[ note : I'm so sorry for being ia for so long I wasn't intending to but due to unavoidable reasons I had to stay away from here for awhile, sorry! ]

You saw Kim Seokjin on the front page of the daily newspaper when you were fourteen, peeking over your father’s shoulder and merely giving attention to your father’s constant praise over the young man who had managed to achieve what men his age couldn’t.

You were a blushing, gasping sixteen year old when your friends were gushing about the luxuries Kim Seokjin would give his alleged partners, brands you would never be able to purchase were name dropped making you wonder what dating a man as rich and influential comes with.

Kim Seokjin held back from letting his jaw drop when you served his coffee as a sophomore in SNU during the part time that gave you the money to work with your scholarship with a smile that promised him that you were a once in a lifetime chance but he didn’t quite understand why you had rejected his proposal two years later.

He later realized that even though you found him attractive and ached for a chance to work under him you didn’t have any thoughts on dating a man, who was old enough with visible grey streaks in his hair and you definitely were not interested to tie a knot with him at such a young age.

But he disregarded it all two more years later and had you on all fours, hand wrapped around your waist to pull you closer to his crotch and another holding your jaw closed around three of his long digits.

He fucks into you, making sure that you feel every inch of him in your inexperienced pussy. His hand travels down to your clit to rub circles around it, “pretty little cunt taking me so well” he praises and pulls his fingers out of your mouth, your drool dripping down your chin as soon as he does so.

Seokjin doesn’t give you a chance to become a babbling mess as he turns you to the side by your jaw to kiss the corners of your lips,”o-oh” you found yourself pleading and he found himself snickering as he let your jaw go to use the hand to cup one of your tits in palm, rolling the puffy nipple between his fingers.

When you realized that you were too intimidated to ask him to permit you to cum after he had ruined your very first release twice for the night you gripped onto the sheets below before falling down on the comfort of his bed. He chuckles and pulls your ass up to himself as he keeps ramming into you, your perspiring ass jiggling against his thigh.

“You wanna cum baby?” you refuse to answer and only claw onto the sheets beside as you sob into it, the pain of your virginity being taken by a man you never wanted was more agonizing than the pain of your pussy being stretched for the very first time.

His groans come out strangled, indicating that he too was close. With one hand still on your waist he sneaks the other under to rub your clit around sideways harshly getting watery hiccups from you. “I’m gonna fill you up baby” he promised with a chuckle under his breath.

He grabbed onto the globe of your ass to land a sharp spank on the supple skin, earning a loud cry from you. You clenched more around him at the stinging feeling and that only triggered the beast in him as his animalistic thrusts grew along with the squelches, skin slapping and your cries.

You felt his heavy chest against your back when he leaned down to nibble on your earlobe and to roughly grope your breast in his calloused palm once again, “fuck baby if you don’t start begging i’ll have to fuck you all night” he heaved and fondled with the flesh of your breast, smirking at your growing cries.

“Please” you pleaded under your breath and he hummed into your ear as he slid the hand below to your tummy, pressing down on your navel, he disregarded the whimper and pressed down on the bulge poking from your tummy “you feel me here baby?”

With your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your mouth hanging open with drool dripping down your chin to land on the sheets you could only manage to groan, the feeling of his cock nudging your cervix was all too new for you, you screwed your eyes shut “too m-much” he snakes his hand below to draw circles on your clit and hood, the pads of his fingers grazing your labia during the process.

Your toes curled and you let a gasp out before trying to flail away from his hold but he was quick to grasp the situation as he grabbed onto your arm and pinned you down, eliminating all the hopes for your escape. “Don’t even fucking think about running away now” he growled and pinched on the bundle of your nerves as a warning before resuming the motions of his finger, harsher than previously.

Seokjin elicits a throaty moan as he continues to thrust into you without giving your sensitive clit a break, “i want you to cum all over my cock baby” you only squealed as you felt the unfamiliar coil in your abdomen, the urge to let it out rises as you let your senses lose to fuck yourself against him, earning a proud smack on your ass from your husband for it.

Your body trembles and your toes curl and you let out a loud cry as you let your orgasm wash over you, with irregular breaths he watches you cream his cock, never once ceasing himself from pumping his thick shaft in you, chasing after his own orgasm. You were not able to calm down from your very first orgasm as you shook below him from his continuous rams.

Bending down he buries his face into your tousled hair, groaning into it and you were only able to grip onto the ruined sheets to cry into it at the over stimulation. His hand gripped onto the back of your trembling thighs to spread it further, he pressed down on your clit, attempting to calm you down with soft hums.

You stuttered for pleas through your sobs as he twitched inside you, “I’m going to see you full with my babies soon, yeah?” his grip on your waist tightened as he filled your ears with one final growl before he let his own spurts of cum fill you up to the brim. The load was too much as strings of his release trickled down your thighs.

He refused to pull out from you, opting to rock all of his semen into you. Turning your head to the side by gripping onto your jaw he wiped away the tears that were cascading down your cheeks before leaning down to leave pecks around the side of your face.

He tucked sweaty strands of your hair behind your ear as he moved his lips down to your own to pull you into a breathless kiss, “you did so well” he breathlessly praised when he pulled out and hovered his lips over yours. His thumb rubbed over your cheek when he left another peck on your nether lip, “my dumb little baby, all mine”

#bts smut #yandere bts #yandere bts smut #yandere jin #jin yandere #bts yandere #jin smut #tw non con #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw dub con #yandere bts drabbles #dilf bts #dilf jin #dilf seokjin

3K notes · View notes

sinofwriting · 2 years

Text

They'll Have Me - Ethan Payne (Part One)

Words: 1,767 Summary: After learning she’s pregnant, she tells her boyfriend and father of her child and in a move that shocks her, he leaves. Dumping her and then blocking her number. With no one else to turn to, she turns to her best friend Ethan’s mom, who reminds her that she’s got her and Ethan. (Part One of ?)

The room is at a standstill, the only sound that can be heard is the sound of heavy breathing from across the room. “What?” She manages to get out, mind still spinning from his words, disbelief that those words could have come out of his mouth so easily. He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I said get rid of it. Or don’t I don’t care. Just don’t go looking for me to pay for anything. I want nothing to do with you or that.” He spits, before turning on his heel and walking out of her flat.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, standing there, staring at the door, staring after her boyfriend, her ex boyfriend now. It’s only from the pressure of her bladder that gets her to move and once she’s done and is washing her hands, she realizes she’s been crying. Tears have soaked the collar of her shirt and face, her chest is heaving, and sobs leave her mouth.

And she sinks to the bathroom floor. Water still running as she brings her knees up and cries into them. Sobs echoing throughout the bathroom.

When she manages to get off the bathroom floor, everything aches and she can no longer cry. She feels lifeless as she turns off the water. Leaving the bathroom, she wipes at her eyes despite tears no longer falling.

Picking up her phone, she ignores the many notifications she has and goes for Andrew’s contact, hoping that everything he said was a lie, that he didn’t mean it, or maybe he changed his mind. But when she calls it doesn’t go through. And when she texts it doesn’t go through and it hits her that he blocked her. He wasn’t coming back, he wanted nothing to do with her or the baby.

It’s at that realization she grabs her phone, bag, and keys and gets in her car. Driving the familiar way to a place she’s been to a thousand times.

Knocking on the door, she practically collapses into familiar arms when it opens. “Alice?” A panicked voice asks, but holds her tighter. Moving her out of the doorway so the door can be closed before asking her what happened.

She pulls herself away slightly, looking at the woman who’s pretty much a mother to her. “Andrew left me.” Ruth’s mouth drops open, but it’s the next words that make her pull the younger girl back into her arms. “I told him I was pregnant and he left.”

She has to take a deep breath, but it doesn’t stop the tears from spilling as she holds the girl to her. She wouldn’t wish what she had gone through on anyone and it hurt her to think that Alice of all people was left just like that when she deserved so much more.

“Let’s go to the kitchen and have some tea, it’ll help calm you down.” She adds, steering the girl there. It’s only when she’s sat her down at the kitchen island that she bustles around the kitchen to get the kettle going and cups down.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” She asks as they wait for the water to boil. She shrugs, pressing her lips together. “I was excited and a little scared, but now I’m just scared. I don’t know if I can do this alone. I’m not strong like you are, Ruth. I don’t think I can do this.” “Oh,” She sighs, rounding the island to pull her into another hug. “You’re a lot stronger than you believe. And you won’t be alone. You’ve got me and you’ve got Ethan. He’ll be thrilled to find out.” “I’ll have you?” She doesn’t know why she asks, she knows that Ruth will be there for her. Has been since she lost her parents when she was sixteen and the remaining members of her family just a year later, but she finds it hard to believe that for herself. “Of course.” She hugs her tighter before letting her go and going to tend to the kettle. “I’ve always thought of you as a daughter, as soon as Ethan brought you home. Even if nothing has ever happened between you too.” Alice can’t help the laugh that escapes her and the smile that forms from the familiar complaint. “We’re just friends, Ruth.” “Oh, I’m aware. But an old woman can wish.” “You aren’t old.” She scoffs. “Glad to hear someone say it.” She smiles, before passing over a cup of tea just the way she likes it.

“Are you going to?” She gestures to her stomach and she nods. “I’m keeping it. “How far along?” “Eleven weeks.” Her hand drops to her stomach, resting there. “Have you had an ultrasound?” She nods, reaching for her bag that she never took off and grabbing the ultrasound picture to give to her.

“Oh my.” Ruth breathes, staring at the picture. “They’ll be gorgeous with you as their mum.” She looks up from the ultrasound to smile at her, “You ready to be called mum?” She laughs, shaking her head. “God no. Are you ready to be a grandma?” Her mouth opens slightly. “What?” Alice shrugs, looking down for a second before looking back at her. “You’re pretty much my mum, and I have no doubt that you’ll be in my baby’s life forever. Only seems fitting that you’d be grandma.” “Sweetheart.” Ruth breathes, tears coming to her eyes and the younger girl laughs. “Don’t cry yet, mum. I haven’t even got you a shirt saying that you’re the best grandma.” She teases. “I’ll wear it everyday. Better get me a mug too. The girls are going to be hearing all about this. Won’t be talking about anything else.” She tells her, rounding the table to give her another hug. “Can’t believe my daughter’s giving me a grandbaby so soon.” She relaxes into her arms, taking in the comforting and familiar smell of Ruth. “Love you, mum.” She whispers. “Love you too, sweetheart.”

A few days later, she finds herself trying to gather the courage to tell Ethan.

It’s odd how nervous she is to tell him the news, but she knows it’s because he’ll find out about Andrew she can only imagine the reaction he’ll have to that.

“You alright, Fe?” Ethan asks, watching as his old and closest friend fiddles with her fingers. She smiles at the childhood nickname, at the reminder that Ethan saw her as fearless when they first met. “Yeah, I just,” She pauses, unsure of how to say it before deciding not to say anything at all. Instead she reaches for her bag and fishes out the ultrasound and hands over to Ethan, holding her breath as she watches his face. His face is filled with confusion as he’s handed the picture and as he looks at it, he doesn’t understand what it is until his eyes finally focus. His mouth drops and a smile starts to pull at his lips.

“Holy shit. You’re pregnant?” She nods, letting out a laugh, body relaxing at the excitement in his voice and on his face. “Holy shit.” He repeats before setting the ultrasound down and getting up and pulling the girl into a hug. “I’m so happy for you. You’re going to be an amazing mum.” He whispers into her hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. She hugs him tight. “Thank you. I’m scared, but mum said she’d be there, that you’d be there for me.” His hold had tightened at her calling his mum her’s so casually. Something she'd only ever done when sick or offhandedly when not thinking. It warmed him that she was just doing it. “She’s right, you know? I’ll absolutely be there. In fact when’s your next scan, all your scans, all your appointments, I want to be there. If I get them now I can tell the boys I need to reschedule for those times if we have anything and mark out that I’m not available.” “You don’t need to do that.” She laughs, pushing him away so she can sit back down. “Bullshit. Of course I do.” His eyebrows then furrow a thought striking him. “What about Andrew? How’d he take it?” Her smile dies and sighs, eyes locking onto the table. “He left. Doesn’t want anything to do with me or the baby.” He curses, anger and years worth of hurt filling him at the news. “Shit, Fe.” She chuckles, “yeah. I told Ruth after he left. Or more like showed up crying and collapsed in her arms.” Ethan sucks in air between his teeth. “Why didn’t you come to me?” She shrugs, still looking at the table before making eye contact with him. Her next words are soft. “I think I needed a mum.”

He sits back in his chair, across the table from her. “How’d she take it?” “Good.” Alice smiles. “She’s very excited to be a grandma.” Ethan blinks at the words, seeing now why she was so easily calling his mum, mum. “You made her cry, didn’t you?” “Only a little!” She protests, making him laugh. “But no, she took it really well. We talked for a long time that night. She’s actually going to be clearing out the spare room for me.” Ethan frowns. “Why?” “My lease ends this month and I don’t want to stay in the flat with a newborn baby. The poor thing would wake up due to all the noise. So, I’m going to stay with her for a while. I’m hoping I’ll find something before I’m too big but she told me that she wouldn’t mind me staying even after the baby.” “She’s a little lonely sometimes.” He mutters and she nods.

It’s quiet between them before he breaks the silence. “You could move in with me.” “What?” He shrugs, “I’ve got that big house now and it’s just me and the dogs. You come over anyways to watch them when I’m gone for too long or out of town.” “Ethan,” she starts, but he cuts her off. “Come on, Fe. We’ve always wanted to live together. And don’t bring up the baby, you know I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t want the baby living there too.” “What if you want to bring a girl home?” She tries. He raises an eyebrow, “Yeah, I’ll bring a girl all the way from the center of London to my place over thirty minutes away for a shag.” “And if you get a girlfriend?” “If she can’t accept that you two are my family, then it was never going to work out to begin with.”

#ethan payne imagine #ethan payne x reader #behzinga imagine #behzinga x reader #sidemen imagine #sidemen x reader #they'll have me #new series #lets so how this goes #sins fics

137 notes · View notes

heich0e · 3 years

Note

hii! hope you’re doing good!

could you pls write “wanna play some mario kart? it'll give us both a reason to cry when you beat me.“ with makki?

of course if it inspires you <33 thank you!

this came in at the EXACT same time as another ask with the same prompt but with oikawa so i included him in this one just to make it fair <3

pieces hanamaki takahiro/f!reader (haikyuu!) word count: 1k tags: angst, hurt/comfort, implied oikawa/reader, pining, makki being the best boy on earth, this made me sad! Send me a prompt and a character!

Takahiro has always loved puzzles.

He loves the satisfaction of taking pieces and fitting them into something new. Something whole. Taking something broken and putting it together again.

Maybe that's why he's been hopelessly, irredeemably in love with you since he was fifteen years old.

You, who shows up at his door every few weeks with tears in your eyes and your arms wrapped tight around your midsection as if to hold yourself together.

You, who can't help but choke out a sob when Makki invites you in, just like he always does, and ruffles your hair gently as you pass him in the doorway.

You, who has been in love with his best friend for as long as he has been in love with you, and who has been chasing Oikawa's ghost since he left you to follow his dreams in Argentina.

The routine is always the same. You sit at the end of Hiro's bed, and he sits at the top, against his pillows.

You wrap your arms around your knees to pull them to your chest, and he offers you something to drink (which you always decline.)

Next he starts the guess work, trying to decipher exactly what it is that has driven you to his doorstep this time around.

It's not very hard to guess what has brought you to his place on this particular occasion, as Takahiro had seen the post on Instagram likely around the same time you did: a photo of Oikawa (as tanned and chiselled and radiant as ever) with his arms wrapped around a girl, posted to his private account with a caption in Spanish which had badly auto-translated to 'the sun shines brighter when i'm inside her' which he almost would have laughed at if he didn't immediately know the photo was going to devastate you.

Not even 30 minutes later here you are, sniffling at the end of his bed, eyes rimmed in pink.

He hates how pretty you are when you cry.

Hates that even when you're at your lowest he can't help but look at you and feel his heart quicken under his ribs.

Hates that he knows that even though he's going to try, he's never really going to be able to put the pieces back together in a way that will finally stick.

"Wanna order takeout?" he asks you gently. "We can get chinese from that place down the road. I'll even let you have my fortune cookie."

You shake your head a little.

"'M not hungry," you manage to rasp, but it's weak and watery.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Hiro tries again, crawling a little bit closer to you on the bed, his hands sinking into the soft give of his mattress as he inches towards you.

You shake your head once more.

"Wanna play some Mario Kart?" He's draped himself across you at this point, nestling his chin between your knees, peering up at you from his position in your lap.

You reach to trace your trembling fingers through his hair, snorting a little--the sound wet with snot and tears.

"You haven't beat me at Mario Kart since we were sixteen, and that was only because I had mono and was half-dead."

The mono Oikawa had given you, Hiro wants to remind you, but doesn't.

"It'll give us both a reason to cry when you beat me," he teases, but it's at his own expense.

You endeavour to smile, but it's feeble.

"Can you just... hold me for a bit?" you ask the question quietly, like you're embarrassed by it. Like it's not the only thing Makki ever wants to do.

"'Course," he says, feigning like he's not aching for it. He flops off of your legs and flat onto his back beside you on his bed, his feet by his pillows. He opens his arms so you can nestle yourself down into them, your face tucked into the warmth of his chest.

The two of you stay like that for a while. Makki tracing shapes into your back that he's lost track of mapping, letting his fingers move however they see fit against you. He starts writing words after he's exhausted every abstract shape he can call to mind to knead into your skin.

Makki loves when you lay with him like this. Pressed so tightly against him, clinging to him, so close he stops being able to tell where he ends and you begin.

The two of you fit together. He knows you do. He feels it when your breaths fall into sync.

Your eyes are closed, but he can still see tears clinging to the ends of your eyelashes when he steals a peek down at your face--droplets matting the lashes together and glistening in the waning afternoon light streaming in through his bedroom window.

It hurts him to see you hurting.

Hurts that he knows there's nothing he can do to fix it.

Hurts that he will never be the boy you're crying over--not that he would ever give you reason to if you would just choose him like he's been silently begging you to for the past ten years.

But he'll settle for this.

For being the one to put you back together.

For being the one that will get you to eat something when you wake up from your nap, who will distract you with an episode of your favourite TV show that the two of you have already watched enough times to recite the dialogue from memory, who will be the first person to make you laugh again, who will walk you to the station to catch the last train home, who will wait on the platform until it disappears out of sight.

Because he knows that's the piece he is to you.

#makki x reader #makki x you #hanamaki takahiro x reader #hanamaki takahiro x you #hanamaki x reader #hanamaki x you #hanamaki takahiro #makki angst #makki drabble #hq drabble #hq writing #hq fic #writing

272 notes · View notes

seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Fracture

i apologise in advance.

Miya Osamu x female reader

TW non-con, dub-con, psuedo-infidelity, referenced character death, angst, drunk reader, gaslighting, age gap, the slightest hint of nsfw

‘Yer still coming home for summer, right?’

How many weeks had your sister spent lovingly bullying you into coming down? How many hours had you spent listening to her gush over the phone about how excited she was?

And until about three months ago, you’d been excited too.

Despite the ten or so years between the two of you, there was nobody on earth you loved more than your sister. When you were sixteen years old and your parents passed away in a car accident, she was the one who stepped up to take care of you, putting a roof over your head, making sure you ate, slept and kept up your grades, balancing two jobs to do it.

And she grumbled and you fought, but she’s the only reason you managed to keep it all together enough to graduate high school, and when it came time for you to leave home for university, she was the one blinking back tears and loudly complaining about you ‘abandoning your poor older sister in her time of need’.

As if she hadn’t sat with you for hours, pouring over your options and gently nudging you in the direction of Tokyo.

“It’s just a few hours away,” you’d told her. “I’ll come back and visit you all the time.”

There was truth to that. The first six months of uni, you came home every other weekend arms full of expensive textbooks and mountains of assignments to write, but then she met Osamu.

You’ve never seen anybody fall so hopelessly in love as quickly as she had. Miya Osamu may as well have hung the damn moon in the sky for how your sister looked at him. And you suppose you can’t really blame her; he was stupidly tall, broad shouldered and handsome. Even back then his restaurant was a wild success, the man was talented and clearly knew how to cook. Nice was the wrong word to describe him, but Miya Osamu was good, and so long as he made your sister happy, that was enough for you.

And it wasn’t like he was the one to drive you away.

Osamu liked you – he let you camp out in his restaurant and work on your assignments when you desperately needed a change of scenery, stopping to humour you with conversation if it was quiet. He made you laugh, he was interesting, and the more your sister brought him around, the more you realised that you actually kinda liked the guy.

Things were just easy between the two of you, you never had to pretend to be anything but what you were.

You were the one who started putting space between you and her. It wasn’t intentional, at least not on their part, but somewhere along the way you’d started to realise that Osamu wasn’t the odd one out anymore; you were. She was building a life with him, and fortnightly visits turned into monthly ones, and then eventually it became once every few months and after that only on holidays and special occasions – their wedding being one of them.

At Christmas, cheeks flushed with alcohol, she’d pulled you into a one armed hug, pouting into your sweater. “You never come visit us anymore,” she’d sniffled dramatically, “I miss you.”

But it was Osamu – fingers laced with your sister’s, a hint of a smile curling at his lips – who’d voiced it. “Come spend yer summer break with us.”

Three months later you’d awoken to a call telling you that there’d been an accident. Your sister was dead.

Weeks pass by in a blur. Your classes are a haze of droning voices and mindless typing, you submit papers you don’t remember writing and you get good marks anyway. Your friends don’t know how to act around you, everything feels surreal, like you’re moving around in a dream, nothing touches you anymore. It hurts, but you’ve wrapped up that pain and put it someplace safe, seeking it out only when you’re alone and you just can’t bear the numbness a second longer.

The trip you’d promised to take back home to Osaka is the furthest thing from your mind, at least until Osamu calls you in the early hours of the morning, a week or so before the semester ends.

“Yer still coming home for summer, right?”

The word ‘no’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. The last time you’d seen each other was at the funeral, his face blank and hollow, eyes rimmed in red. He’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to you, but he’d stayed by your side the entire time, calmly thanking those who came up to express their condolences.

You’d lost your sister, but he’d lost his wife.

“Do you still want me to?” you ask him quietly instead. If you were in his shoes, you’re not so sure that you would.

Yet Osamu sighs heavily, and you catch a faint clinking sound on the other end of the line, like a bottle being set back against the marble countertop. “I just–” but he breaks off and something inside of your chest tugs. “I want ya here. The house is empty… she’s gone and I… I want ya here. Please.”

How could you possibly say no after that? Maybe you’ve been selfish, so wrapped up in your own grief and misery. You’d assumed that because Osamu had Atsumu he’d be okay. Not right away, of course, but he’d have that support around him – a support system that you were without.

It didn’t enter your mind that perhaps he was struggling too. That he was spending night after night alone in a house etched with memories of her. And just as you’d thought that Tsumu was the one keeping his head above water, maybe he was offering a hand to do the same for you.

—

He’s waiting for you on the porch when your taxi pulls up on the kerb. The driver’s nice enough to help you with your bags, but Osamu is quick to intercept, waving off the help with an impatient huff that almost makes you laugh.

“Yer here,” he says once he sets them down on the porch, grinning as he tugs you into a warm embrace.

It’s then that you get a good look at him, a proper look – and for a moment, you’re taken aback. You haven’t seen him since the funeral a few months back, granted, but Osamu doesn’t look the way you imagined him to – especially after your call the other night. There’s no hint of pallid skin, no bloodshot eyes with heavy bags underneath or a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. No, even with his dark hair still a mess, dressed in jeans and his Onigiri Miya tee, Osamu looks good. Healthy even, if the way the sleeves of his shirt cling to his biceps is any indication.

It takes you a second to realise that you’re staring, because Samu chuckles, brushing past you to bring your stuff inside.

“Y’know, most people start with a hello,” he calls over his shoulder.

Your cheeks heat, a hint of shame curling inside of you. Were you expecting him to be an inconsolable wreck? You know better than most that grief messes with people differently, and it’s not fair of you to judge him, however unintentionally, for not fitting that image of the grieving husband.

It’s a good sign.

“Hi, Samu,” you reply somewhat sheepishly, following him inside.

He’s already walking towards your old bedroom, the ‘guest room’ now (though you and he both know it’s always been yours), leaving you to trail behind the older man. Your intention is to stop him from going to too much effort, but as you walk past the living room, something catches your eye.

Or rather, the absence of something. Faltering in your step, it takes you a second to realise what’s missing, but as you glance around, brows furrowing in confusion, it hits you.

The pictures of you and your sister, the cute ones with her and Samu, the old family snaps that used to line the walls and sit on the TV unit, they’re gone. And it’s not just the pictures. The artwork your sister had painted that used to hang by the wall next to the kitchen, the little pot plants she’d doted on like children, hell, the throw that she’d knitted one winter that was always lying on the couch; they’re all gone.

The room feels almost alien without them, unfamiliar and cold. He’d hung up some cool photography stuff to fill in some of the spaces, but instead of homey it just felt… modern. Like the pictures you see in magazines of staged houses that nobody actually lives in.

And you must have been standing there for a while, because you don’t notice it when Samu comes back to find you still holding your purse, gazing around like a lost child.

“I didn’t get rid of ‘em, if that’s what yer thinking.”

You turn to face him, except Osamu isn’t looking at you. He’s gazing at the walls around you both, his face strangely impassive – except for his eyes. It’s impossible for you to miss the hurt that swims there, the faint sheen they didn’t hold only moments ago. “I packed them away – they’re in yer room if ya want to look through any of it, it’s just…” he trails off, finally glancing back to look at you. And once again, you feel that flicker of guilt slowly eating away at you. “It was painful, seeing her face everywhere.”

Before you left your apartment that morning, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t cry today – but the tears come unbidden, and one moment you’re standing there staring at him and the next you’re choking on a sob, hand coming to your lips to try and stifle it.

Osamu’s there in a second, solid arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He doesn’t say a word (what’s there to say anymore?) he just hums softly, stroking your back with a gentle hand as you fall apart once more.

—

It’s surprisingly easy for the two of you to fall into a rhythm. There’d been some part of you that was hesitant about this whole thing – despite having a relatively good relationship with your brother in law, you knew that the only real connection between the two of you was your sister.

Without her, living in the same space and trying to navigate around the holes that she’d left, you’d expected it to be at least a little awkward between the two of you. But with Osamu working full time, it was kind of a non-issue. Aside from the first day when he’d taken the morning off to help you get settled, he was usually gone before you woke up, and most nights he wasn’t home until nine or ten. How he worked such long hours six days a week without collapsing out of sheer exhaustion was beyond you, but you tried to make things easier for him, cooking dinner for the two of you.

“Y’know ya don’t have to do this every night, right?” he asks you one night, sticking the leftover chicken into the microwave. “I have a restaurant, I can sort out my own dinner.”

You don’t tell him that despite being a rather terrible cook, it was one of the things your sister made sure to do every night in the weeks following your parents’ death. You’d spend most of your day holed up in your room if you weren’t at school, but dinner was the one time you’d sit and talk with her. It became a ritual; something sacred and special between the two of you.

You’re a better cook than she was by far, no comparison for Osamu, of course, but it’s the only way you really know how to help with… whatever this is.

Instead, you just offer him a wry look from your position on the couch, “And yet, you never do.”

He scoffs at that, a hint of a smirk curling at his lips, “Why would I eat there when I know yer cookin’ for me?”

—

Of course, as easy as it is to slip into living with Osamu, you can’t escape what happened there forever.

It doesn’t slip your notice the first night you spend there; the spare toothbrush in your bathroom, the decidedly masculine body wash in the shower, or how one of the shelves in the vanity was stocked with shaving cream and cologne and a few odd skin care products. You’d assumed that they were Atsumu’s, spares stashed away for the odd nights he crashed here. There’s another bathroom off the master bedroom, so you know it can’t be Samu’s stuff.

Except you find yourself proven wrong one night, when fresh from your shower and clad only in a fluffy white towel, you open the door to find a shirtless Osamu filling the space, one arm propped up on the doorframe.

“Anyone ever tell ya yer a bit of a bathroom hog?” he asks, smirking down at you.

And you’re so taken aback, utterly confused as to why he’s standing there half dressed, why it matters how long you take in the bathroom – never mind that the only thing covering you from complete nakedness is your towel – that you can only stand there, gaping like a fish as he laughs, takes you by the shoulders and physically shifts you out of the way as he slides on past.

It takes you until the following morning – Osamu’s sole day off – to ask him about it, clutching nervously at your cup of coffee while he busies himself making breakfast for the two of you.

“Samu, um, about last night…” you timidly begin.

He glances up at you from the stove, a single eyebrow raised. “What about it?”

Your cheeks are already burning, eyes darting between his face and the mug in your hands as you struggle to find the right words to bring it up without making things weird. “Well, I-I was just wondering… um, why you were using my bathroom?”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction that you’re expecting, but the dark look that flashes across his face isn’t it. For a split second, your insides clench, terrified that you’ve said the wrong thing–

But as quickly as it appeared, Osamu’s expression smooths over. He exhales heavily, setting down the spoon in his hand as he turns to face you properly, and when your eyes flicker up once more, you realise with a start that it’s pity that’s taken its place.

And a second too late, the pieces inside your head fall into place.

“Oh.”

Osamu nods only once. “I can’t go in without seeing her lyin’ there… I thought ya knew.”

And it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. She’d died in their bathroom – slipped on the wet tiles and cracked her head open on the edge of their bath, and Samu had been the one to find her.

Weakly your eyes flutter shut, bitter nausea churning in your gut. How could he stay here, sleep in the next room when–

“Hey, hey, calm down, I gotcha,” Samu’s voice is at your ear, and your head’s spinning, pounding, and you can’t breathe. The mug in your hand tumbles to the floor, your coffee spilling across the wooden floorboards as weak fingers clutch at empty air, and then those arms are around you once more and Osamu’s trying to soothe you.

Breakfast is forgotten as he tugs you towards the couch to sit. And as he holds you, speaks to you in that calm, unwavering voice you try to focus on the scent of him (masculine and earthy, a hint of spice and cedar), the fabric of his shirt under your cheek and the gentle, almost lazy circles he rubs into your side and not the mental image of your sister, lying broken and bleeding on the bathroom floor.

—

It doesn’t take much effort to find the stash of your sister’s things that Samu set aside in your room. You lose hours flicking through pictures of her, smiling through your tears as they dredge up old, happy memories of the two of you.

Even the ones of her and Samu, his arms looped around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head; she’s always wearing that bright grin that makes your heart ache.

There are a few of the three of you – one from the last time they’d come to visit you in Tokyo and you’d dragged them off to Disneyland. You’re standing between the two of them, beaming at the camera while Samu’s arm hangs off your shoulder and your sister, grinning widely and wearing the minnie mouse ears she’d bought at the first opportunity, tosses up a peace sign.

Softly wiping away your tears, you set it aside. You’ll have to ask Samu if you can take that one home with you.

—

“What’re ya doin’ tomorrow?”

It’s late, and the two of you are sprawled out on the couch, watching TV with a bowl of snacks between you like the old days when he asks.

“Not much,” you reply. “I was going to go to the markets at some point in the morning and maybe head to the beach after that, why?”

Grey-ish brown eyes flicker across to you, “A few of my old teammates are in town, we’re meetin’ up for some drinks. I want ya to come with me.”

“Oh,” the word slips out before you can stop yourself. “Um, yeah… if you want?”

It ends up sounding more like a question, a fact that doesn’t slip past Osamu if the amused little snort he gives in response is any indication. And it’s not that you don’t want to give up your plans in favour of going with him; you get along pretty well with Atsumu and you’ve met most of his old teammates at least once or twice, it’s just that you’re a little confused as to why he’d want you there to begin with.

They’re all at least twelve years older than you, and while it occurs to you that maybe he’s just inviting you along to be polite (not that that’s ever been his style before) the last thing you want is to be stuck feeling like an afterthought, all but ignored as he and his friends catch up.

“I said I wanted ya there, didn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for a response, “‘sides, Tsumu already asked if you were comin’.”

Which is how you find yourself dressed up for the first time in months, fingers smoothing out the hem of your dress as Samu tosses you a lazy grin from the driver’s seat. “Relax, wouldja? They ain’t gonna bite.”

You know that. They’re good guys, but no matter how much rationalising you try to do, you can’t seem to quell the anxiety eating you up, and the frustrating thing is that you don’t know why you’re feeling it.

He’d neglected to tell you that they weren’t meeting at some bar or restaurant, but at Atsumu’s condo in the city (‘Showy fuckin’ bastard’ Samu’d huffed as he’d pulled up in front of the building), but you suppose it really doesn’t make much of a difference.

“Ya look good,” he compliments, eyeing you for a moment while the two of you wait for the elevator.

Cheeks warming, you drop your gaze and stutter out a quiet thank you. Apparently unsatisfied, he leans closer, reaching one large hand up to gently ruffle your hair – grinning in satisfaction when you shriek and try to pry it away. “Relax,” he whispers again, the warmth of his breath tickling the bare skin of your neck. “Yer too wound up.”

Distracted by the arrival of the elevator, you fail to notice that instead of returning back to his side, his hand drops to your shoulder.

And it should be easier to do just that once you have a drink in hand. Atsumu greets you with a one armed hug, the only hint of anything out of the ordinary being the way his gaze lingers a beat too long as he studies your face, his eyes sharp and missing nothing. But whatever he sees (or doesn’t see) his expression softens into a smile, “Glad ya came.”

But even as you’re greeted by the others, falling into an easy conversation with Kita and Aran you can’t seem to shift the uneasiness in your stomach. There’s something in the air, a tension nobody really wants to admit to.

And you can’t quite tell if the others are surprised that Samu brought you at all, or if it’s just because you’re a living reminder of a tragedy that’s still fresh and raw, and everyone’s trying to pretend that it’s not. You don’t blame them for it, of course, they only mean the best. But you can see it in the way Suna side eyes you every now and then, how skilfully Akagi skirts anything that could touch a nerve when he comes up to chat.

It’s like they’re all walking on eggshells – though whether it’s for your benefit or Osamu’s, you’re not entirely sure. For his part, Samu sticks close, keeping your drink topped up, an arm slung over your shoulders as the afternoon wears into the evening.

Yet despite that, the alcohol you’re drinking far too quickly starts to work its magic, filling your body with a warm, pleasant little buzz, and you actually start to enjoy yourself. You laugh easier, giggling when the twins start to bicker, gasping in wicked delight when Suna offers to show you certain embarrassing photos of both of them on his phone (he has quite the collection), even letting Gin and Tsumu drag you into taking shots with them.

And all the while, Samu watches you, a soft smirk playing at his lips.

—

By the time he unlocks the front door and you stumble back inside, you’re absolutely plastered, giggling at nothing and tripping over your own feet.

As always, Samu’s there to catch you, strong, muscular arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Careful there, princess,” he laughs.

You grin up at him, carefree and heartbreakingly beautiful. For the first time in months you feel light, you feel amazing and you don’t want this to end. Kicking your heels off, you skip inside, leading him by the hand. “Samu,” you call back over your shoulder. “I wanna dance.”

“Nobody’s stopping ya.”

“But there’s no music,” you pout, and once again he chuckles, letting you go to settle back into the leather couch as he pulls out his phone. A moment later a familiar, lively melody floods the living room, and you let yourself become lost to it. It doesn’t matter that you’re drunk and dancing alone, Samu’s dark eyes following your every move, you’ve never felt so free.

Arms raised in the air, hips swaying hypnotically to the beat, you lose track of time. It could’ve been minutes or seconds or a whole hour, but suddenly you’re not alone anymore – Samu’s there with you. His cologne invades your senses, why does he always smell so good? His body’s warm, almost hot as he slots himself behind you, caging you against him.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice sending shivers running down your spine. “Yer a little tease, ya know that?”

And there’s something wrong with that, you know there is, but you can’t seem to think of what it is – not when the weight of his hold’s impeding your movement. A pout adorns your face, a soft, almost petulant whine escaping your lips as you try in vain to untangle yourself, “Samu, lemme go. I wanna dance.”

He huffs out a laugh, but that doesn’t sound right either. “Don’t wanna dance with you, pretty girl.”

There’s something hard pressing against your lower back, and his hot breath ghosts over your neck a moment before lips descend to suck on the sensitive flesh.

In a split second, all that blissful, warm, drunken happiness evaporates. Samu groans lowly, his chest rumbling at your back, but there’s a pit of something cold and urgent that’s seeping through your veins, distant, foggy alarm bells tolling inside of your head and you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it.

You want it to stop.

“S-Samu,” you whine, shifting uncomfortably against his hold.

This time he listens, drawing back just enough that he can turn you around to face him. And those familiar eyes are hooded and dark, burning with an intensity that makes you want to recoil even as he stares down at you, taking your cheek in hand.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until his thumb’s brushing away your tears. There’s nothing comforting or pleasant (nothing of the Samu you know) on his face as he studies your fearful expression, but eventually he lets out a heavy sigh.

“She was positive I was cheatin’ on her,” he admits. “Did she ever tell ya that?” He pauses for a beat waiting for a reply, but when it’s clear that you don’t have one for him, he just scoffs, “No, ‘course not. That’d be admitting that not everything about our life was picture perfect, and heaven fuckin’ forbid we do that. Y’know, that's why she wanted ya back here so bad. She needed a buffer.”

Bitterness clings to every word like poison and you flinch, renewing your struggles to get away. Not that he lets you – the moment you start to squirm the arm around your waist tugs you closer, anchoring you against him. The tears come faster, followed by soft, hiccuping sobs, but Samu seems beyond caring at that point.

“Stupid bitch never could see what was right in front of her face. That’s what we were fightin’ about that night; she said she was gonna leave me.”

Your heart clenches, fear pooling in your gut, but Samu just smiles at you, a mockery of sweet tenderness, reaching back to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “But you know I’d never hurt my pretty girl, don’t ya, baby?” he asks. “Just want a taste tonight.”

You don’t even have time to suck in a breath before he’s kissing you, cradling the back of your head as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

And all you can taste is the whiskey on his tongue.

—

You can’t tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, the faint, reddish blemish colouring your neck.

A hickey.

Tentatively, as if trying to prove that it’s real and not a figment of your imagination, you prod at the mark, only to wince at the tenderness. Definitely real.

You’d woken up to an empty house – unsurprising considering it was well past ten and you knew Osamu had work today – with your head pounding and your mouth uncomfortably dry. Wracking your brain, you can’t seem to conjure up a rational explanation for the bruise. Granted, you can’t really remember much of last night, only fragments of being at Atsumu’s place, and certainly nothing after you’d started taking those shots.

Which doesn’t make the uneasiness sitting heavy in your stomach any easier to take, because you know that you hadn’t been cosying up to anybody before you’d lost track of the night, and if it had happened after, then surely Samu or one of the others would have stepped in and put a stop to it.

And that should’ve been more of a comforting thought than it was, because if it didn’t happen at Atsumu’s then that meant it happened afterwards, when you were here with Samu.

Your heart thumps unevenly against your ribs.

Osamu. Your dead sister’s husband, your brother in law.

A hickey on your neck isn’t just a kiss. It’s not a simple, drunken peck against your lips, it meant that somebody had sucked on the skin, bitten at it, kissed until blood vessels broke – it’s not the kind of thing that happens accidentally.

A wave of nausea threatens to overtake you, and you barely manage to make it to the bathroom before you’re violently emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl. And you know as you collapse onto the cool tiled floor, shaking just a little, that this time at least, the alcohol isn’t to blame.

You know Samu; you trust him implicitly. Whatever happened, it must have been a mistake or something. You’d both been drinking, and he’s still grieving and–

There’s no point jumping to conclusions or working yourself up any more than you already have. You��ll just bring it up with him when he gets home, you decide.

Yet anxiety and guilt gnaw at you as the hours crawl by, you’re half tempted to pick up your phone and just call him to ask point blank. The clock feels like it’s mocking you every time you glance up, and while you try your best to distract yourself with household chores and then busying yourself with dinner, none of it works for long.

By the time he does stride through the door, a little before ten, you’re an anxious wreck, all but wringing your fingers as you sit rigid and tense at the table. Most nights you eat before he gets home, hunger getting the better of you, but tonight you don’t seem to have much of an appetite.

“Smells good,” he comments with an easy grin, toeing off his shoes and dropping his wallet and keys by the door.

You open your mouth, but the words seem to get stuck in your throat as he drops a kiss down on the top of your head and walks on past to grab a bowl from the kitchen.

“I’m starving.”

Instead, you just swallow nervously as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits, not wasting another second before digging in. Your eyes quickly dart over to study him, but you don’t see any hint of guilt or unease on his face. He just looks like the same old Samu, a little tired maybe, but otherwise totally normal, and so you force yourself to pick up your spoon and follow suit.

And he’s never been one to fill silences with meaningless chatter, but tonight the quiet between the two of you feels oppressive, every clink of metal against ceramic echoing too loudly, every chew, every swallow setting you on edge. You can’t even taste the food, your stomach too twisted in knots for you to feel anything but nauseous after a few bites.

“… Is everything okay?” he asks after a few minutes, and it’s so sudden amongst the tense silence that you visibly jerk, almost dropping the spoon you’d been toying with.

You glance up to find him staring, brows furrowed in concern, and once again your stomach flips. It’s now or never.

“Um… did anything happen last night?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Osamu’s frown deepens fractionally, and he tilts his head as your fingers twist in your lap, “What d’ya mean?”

Did we kiss? The words dangle on the tip of your tongue, but as you nervously meet his eyes, you find nothing but confusion and concern there. And for a moment, you almost speak them, but then Samu’s reaching across the table to take your hand in his, and as his warm palm swallows up yours, you lose your nerve.

“You sure yer okay?”

Whatever happened, he doesn’t remember it and neither do you.

Smiling tightly, you nod. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Nevermind.”

There’s no reason for you to drag him through the mud for this, you’re already feeling enough guilt and shame for the both of you.

—

You try to put it out of your mind, but it’s not that easy.

Lying awake in bed at night, your brain unwittingly turns over possibilities of what else could’ve caused the mark if not Osamu. Guilt gnaws at you every second that you’re around him and all the while he’s painfully oblivious to it all.

He’s always been affectionate with you, but all those stray, unthinking touches now carry a different weight with them. You find yourself ducking away from them more often than not, pretending that you don’t see the almost wounded look in those greyish-brown eyes when you do. You start to avoid him, finding other places to be whenever he’s home.

And you hate yourself for it, because Osamu’s been nothing but faithful to your sister for as long as you’ve known him. You’re the one acting like there’s something wrong between the two of you, like he’s treating you any differently than he always has when you know that’s not the case.

You know that, but when you catch sight of the fading bruise in the mirror, your stomach twists into knots all the same.

There are excuses and justifications aplenty, but none of them make you feel any better. You still find yourself sniffling into your pillow, swallowed up by your guilt when you imagine how devastated your sister would be if she knew.

You’d let her husband kiss you. Being drunk and miserable and grieving didn’t change that. Whether he knew it was you or mistook you for her; it doesn’t matter. Maybe it was a mistake, letting him talk you into coming.

Things were still too raw, too fresh. You’d thought that coming here would help, but so far it’s only made everything worse, and unintentionally or not, you can’t kid yourself that your presence is doing anything to help Osamu anymore.

You need to go back to Tokyo.

Somewhat selfishly, you’re tempted to put it off until the weekend, because you know that Onigiri Miya has a stall for the beginning of the summer festival and he’ll be too preoccupied with that to think about anything else – but you just can’t bring yourself to do that to him.

No, it’s better to rip it off like a bandaid; nice and quick.

You’d planned on breaking the news over dinner, but as you pick your way through your noodles, you notice that Samu’s quieter than he usually is. Every time you risk a glance up he’s staring at the table, looking entirely lost in thought, and it just doesn’t feel like the right time to bring it up.

Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll cook his favourite for dinner and tell him then.

—

The knocking startles you from your sleep with a jolt. It’s quiet, hesitant almost, but you’ve always been a light sleeper.

“Samu?” you croak out, fumbling blindly for the phone at your bedside to see what time it is.

The door opens, a crack of light from the hallway spilling into your room as Osamu looks in. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I know it’s late, but I need to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’.”

He’s shirtless, clad only in a pair of cotton pyjama pants, but he doesn’t look to be in any immediate kind of trouble. Still, he wouldn’t have disturbed you in the middle of the night if it wasn’t something important, so you blearily wipe the sleep from your eyes and force yourself to sit up as he slips into your room and shuts the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

He hasn’t bothered to turn on the light, and even with the moonlight streaming in through your window, his face is cast in shadow as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. And it’s silly, especially considering he’s the one who’s shirtless right now but it’s hard not to flush at the realisation that you’re only wearing a thin, satiny slip. You feel almost naked – he’s seen you in bikinis before, but it feels different here, when he’s the one in your bedroom.

“You asked me the other day about what happened the night we went to Tsumu’s,” he begins, his voice quiet and soft in the early hours of the morning, and suddenly your state of dress is the last thing on your mind.

Swallowing tightly, your pulse quickens and you still, waiting for him to continue.

And you feel, rather than see, the way he stares at you, inching a fraction closer when you don’t immediately answer. “And I lied. Or I didn’t exactly tell ya the full truth.”

“Which is?” you force out.

Samu’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep, slow breath in and exhales heavily. “You were drunk and ya came onto me, tried to kiss me.” You flinch, a choked sound escaping your throat at the blunt admission, but he’s quick to reach for you, his hand coming to rest on your knee, squeezing it reassuringly. “And in the heat of the moment, I let ya.”

Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but the moment you try to turn away from him, biting your lip and trying to blink back the tears, he stops you.

“Osamu–”

“‘Cause I’ve spent years waiting to kiss those lips, an’ I’m tired of pretending we both don’t want this.”

And he’s kissing you; soft and sweet and gentle, his lips molding to yours as he cups the back of your neck. You wonder if he can feel your pulse racing under his fingertips as he draws himself closer, groaning into your mouth.

It doesn’t matter that your hands are on his bare chest, pushing at him, hitting him – those muscles aren’t just for show; he’s immovable. The more you squirm, trying to extricate yourself so that you can plead with him to stop–

This is a mistake. A horrible, awful misunderstanding. He’s upset and grieving and not thinking clearly and you have to stop this.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

– the more his grip tightens until it starts to hurt and you’re whimpering into the kiss. Your tears are wetting his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, won’t stop and there’s a panic that rises within you every second that you’re entangled with him.

“Don’t do this,” he mutters, breaking the kiss as a sob rips its way free from your throat, “Don’t pretend ya don’t want this, baby. I know ya do. Stop being a little fuckin’ tease.”

He leans back in, intent on capturing your lips again, and in an act of desperation you reach for his face, cradling his cheek in your hand. “Samu, please,” you beg, wide, imploring eyes searching his face for any hint of a reprieve. “You’re scaring me. Stop, please, j-just for a second.”

Just a second, that’s all you need to try and snap him out of whatever the hell this is. One second.

Osamu stills, his face mere inches from your own, his body hovering atop yours. His breath, ragged and uneven, ghosts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, but you don’t dare move as he leans into the touch, grey eyes fluttering shut.

He sighs, the sound almost like a shiver. “Ya don’t need to be scared, ‘m gonna take good care of my girl.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, not as he forces himself onto you once more. You used to marvel a little at Osamu. Tall, handsome and strong, even in his mid thirties; Samu was fit. Now, straddling your waist, pinning your wrists to the wall with one hand, the other palming at your tits, he dwarfs you entirely. He isn’t impatient, not as he kisses you languidly, not as he slides the soft, satin up your thigh, revealing your underwear.

Your hiccuping sniffles aren’t enough to move him, you’re not strong enough to physically fight him off. He doesn’t pay the tearful, breathless pleas sobbed out between kisses any mind.

Osamu grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your front, lips brushing at the nape of your neck as he smooths your hair back, and you’re utterly helpless to stop him.

And as his hand runs down your side and he coaxes your hips up into the air, you almost wish that he was rough. Because this pretense of gentleness, glinting steel masquerading as silk – it’s too intimate, and you feel complicit.

Like you’re willing.

Like you want this with him.

An act of love as he tugs your panties down to your knees and hums in quiet satisfaction at the sight of your bare cunt, glistening just for him.

There’s a voice in your head telling you you should be screaming and kicking and snarling like a wild, feral thing, but Osamu’s grabbing at your ass, spreading it to get a better look, his thumb gliding along your slit and all you can think about is the picture he’d packed away, the one of the three of you at Disneyland.

Samu’s arm slung over your shoulder, and your sister’s bright smile.

He spits; a warm, fat glob of saliva hitting your pussy, and as it slowly dribbles down the only sound that leaves your lips is a soft, broken whine. You don’t fight him when he takes his cock in hand and guides the flushed head, pre-cum already oozing at the tip, along your cunt, you just lie there, a toy for him to move and manipulate however he wants.

“You’ll forgive me for this, I know ya will,” he murmurs, softly squeezing your hip just once as something thick and blunt presses at your entrance.

But it doesn’t matter, not as his cock sheaths itself inside of you with one hard, brutal thrust, because you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere osamu miya #yandere osamu x reader #yandere osamu #yandere osamu miya x reader #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: infidelity #angst #drunk reader #manipulation and gaslighting ahead y'all #dilf osamu

1K notes · View notes

inkybirdy · 2 years

Note

Ganlink ;-;

Cousin Goro is only a few months into his parents letting him lead supply outings for the caravan on his own, but his sixteen years and the fresh responsibility have bestowed upon him a lofty wisdom.

At least, toward his juniors - fourteen-year-old Link among them.

It was a mistake to tell him about the kiss, Link muses, hands full of a produce basket and trudging behind in the wake of Goro’s laughter.

It had been a quick thing, when the caravan had last stopped in the Kara Kara Bazaar. Sitting on the lookout tower late into the night, watching the dancing and drinking around the bonfire below - Link’s jaw cupped in a careful hand, Ganon had kissed him. While it was a bit of a shy, clumsy thing, startling enough to make Link dizzy, lips chapped from the desert and hours of chatter, it was warm and… soft. Earnest.

“You’re-- uh, really--” Ganon stammered, only pulling back enough for their foreheads to rest together, “--pretty.” Pretty. Link had barely gotten his wits about him again before Ganon had frozen, his own bold impulse leaving him dumbfounded, and then scrambled away.

Weeks later, Goro is the first to hear Link’s admission about the kiss - his first kiss - and his confusion at Ganon’s retreat. Who else would he tell? Lasli is often irritated by ‘kid nonsense’ and, even among the caravan, there are few cousins anywhere near Link’s age. Nabooru had been around at the Bazaar, but she was more Ganon’s peer and confidante than his own. Certainly not Nanna, absolutely not his uncle.

“Pfft-- didn’t take long for him to regret that, did it?”

It’s a mistake.

“Don’t take it to heart, cousin.” Goro dismisses after his laughter eases, holding up a fruit to gauge its worth, “He’s gonna get a crown and marry some general, or some Highland mystic, and get too busy for farm boys.”

‘Regret’ buzzes in Link’s ears and he struggles to swallow the burning shame he feels bubble in his throat. His face heats like he’s stuck his head into an oven, his fingers ache from how tightly he grips the basket, forcing himself not to simply drop it and run - somewhere, anywhere else. He mumbles, but it’s choked.

“... Cousin?” Goro tilts his head, pausing when he notices Link has stopped walking.

“I-” Link sniffs, flushing further now that he feels the tears starting to drip down his cheeks, “I said, I know.” He can’t manage. He drops the basket.

_______

Perhaps an hour later, Maz Koshia finds his nephew a few earshots away from the caravan’s campsite. Sitting by the river, the boy is curled in on himself, shoulders shaking as he muffles his crying with his arms.

Maz barely needs both hands to count the times he’s seen Link cry, since the time he could speak. Always trying to defer to the quiet Maz exudes, desperately avoiding a scene, he tended to hide his more fraught emotions and outbursts.

While Maz wants to muse on how much of that is his own fault, he sets the line of thought aside for the moment. Instead, he lets his footsteps scuff enough to be heard and takes a seat next to the boy.

“Goro said you ran off, in the market.” Maz says simply. He holds back a grimace at the gruff tone his voice holds, even when he works to keep his volume soft. He’s never been good with ‘tender’. “I’m s-sorry.” Link curls tighter, his own voice a miserable wreck, “I didn’t - I didn’t mean to.” While he hesitates for a moment, Maz reaches and gently pats Link’s hair, “He told me what happened.” Somehow the tips of Link’s ears get redder, and Maz hears a mutter, “It’s stupid.”

An ill-fated crush, a stolen first kiss, a shitty comment from a cousin.

Oh, to be young, with a small world shaken by simple things.

“It’s not.”

Maz wraps an arm about Link’s shoulders and scoots the boy up against his side. He rests his cheek on the top of Link’s head as the boy crumples and clings, now sniffling against him.

“Good things don’t last, boy,” Maz says after a while, carefully, “But, they do happen.” He takes the way Link stills as a note to continue. “The little sh - the prince - has been your friend. You like him, you’ve had… fun.” A ghost of a nod against Maz’s shoulder. “That’s good. He won’t stay forever, but you’ve known that. For now, you can have fun being his friend; when the time comes, we’ll… deal with it.”

Link’s arms wrap around Maz’s middle, and he hugs Link tightly in return. “Okay.”

#legend of zelda #loz #loz au #asks #ganlink #link #ganondorf #maz koshia #myart #my writing #crown of calamity #adventure boyfriends au #' i'm not tender ' says maz while tenderly holding his kid drowning in teen angst with tenderness #jokes on yall link's actually been presuming ganon will come to his senses this whole time #and went through the Freshly Heartbroken Phase pretty early on in their adolescence #meanwhile ganon is having an existential crisis it's fine #also cousin 'oh no i'm definitely not a training yiga scout' goro is absolutely one of kohga and sooga's 50 billion kids #it's also fine

102 notes · View notes

idkthisisjustforfanfic · 3 years

Text

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 1

Your feet dangled down from the stool, elbows on the granite counter when Jeff turned around. “Alright,” he said, lips in a thin smile when he revealed the plate of reheated lasagna that someone dropped off in the last few days. “Smells good.”

You looked up at him with an unimpressed stare. “It looks a little disgusting.”

“It’s vegan, I think.”

“Jesus,” you rolled your eyes. “You start one all natural skincare line and people think you only eat plant-based shit.”

He let out a small laugh, set the plate down and watched as you picked up the fork. One bite--mediocre. Not exactly hot enough, but after all Jeff had done for you the last few days, you didn’t have the heart to demand he put it in for another minute.

“So--do you think it went well?”

You laughed around the food in your mouth, picked up a paper napkin and let your head tilt to the side. “As good as a funeral could be.”

The lights in your kitchen were dim and the sun had already faded behind the trees, the house quiet after people finally filed out. Friends, extended family, strangers you’d never met had flocked to Los Angeles for the funeral of your famous father.

It’d been coming from a mile away. His health declined, an obvious result of the cocaine and the cigarettes and whatever else he’d ingested regularly in the 70s. A heart attack a year ago put him on a fast track to the afterlife, but he always joked that he’d probably end up in hell.

Being in the music industry ruined him, in a way--it ruined your parents’ marriage and it ruined a lot of the relationships your father had. Blow outs and big fights that left him exiled from a lot of social circles, sometimes never speaking to people again after one bad phone call. But it was never like that with Irv.

“Well, I’ve never seen my dad cry so hard,” Jeff smiled. “He really loved him.”

Another bite of the soggy noodles and fake cheese. “I know.”

A comfortable silence, the doors off the kitchen were open, a breeze from the backyard let the southern California warmth blow through the sheer curtains when you sipped at your left over wine.

Jeff was the closest thing you had to a sibling, his family was all you had left at this point. You were tossed in the bathtub with him and his siblings as a baby, shoved into family photos and tagged along for vacations.

Being closest in age to Jeff meant people always hoped it would be the two of you that would end up together. Happily ever after or having babies of your own. But when you saw Jeff wolf down a whole pizza at his bar mitzvah, any hope of a spark between the two of you had been permanently extinguished.

His older sister was the one who told you what it meant to have sex, and after your mom died, his mom helped you pick out a dress for your Sweet Sixteen.

She was the one who talked you off the ledge when you found out you were pregnant only a few years later, she was the one who threw you both baby showers and she was the one who helped you through your divorce only six months earlier.

So now that your dad was gone, too, you wondered where you fit into their family and what your definition of family even was.

Before the thought could cross your mind, the front door was pushed open and the sound of high pitched giggles floated in from the foyer.

CeCe’s tiny voice echoed down the hall. “Uncle Jeff?”

“Is that my CeCe?” He took a few steps forward and she ran straight into his legs, he hoisted her up onto his hip when Maeve rounded the corner with Tristan in tow.

“Hi honey,” you opened an arm so your ten-year-old could fit into the side of you. She leaned her head on her shoulder. “How was ice cream?”

The easiest ploy to get them out of the house while you hosted some kind of awkward afterparty.

“Fine,” she sighed. “But Tristan said that funerals are a selfish attempt by the living to hold on to someone after they’re dead.”

You blinked a few times and looked down at her, shocked by the words and apparently, her ability to understand them. You looked over at Tristan, arched eyebrows to communicate how displeased you were.

His eyes went wide when Jeff choked down a laugh. “I didn’t--I don’t know what you’re talking about Maeve.”

You kissed Maeve on the head. “Well, Tristan is wrong about a lot of things, trust me. But you two should go get ready for bed, it’s been a long day.”

You looked over at him again--younger by two years and easily one of the most important people in your life. You met him only a year after you started your business, he had a knack for brand management and eye for design that you couldn’t pass up. He was way too sarcastic and cynical to be your regular babysitter, but Jeff and his family were basically in the receiving line beside you.

Jeff let CeCe climb down and Maeve took her by the hand as they headed for the kitchen stairs to the second floor, leaving you alone at the island with two of your closest friends.

He waited until he heard the water turn on from their bathroom sink, then whispered in Tristan’s direction. “Great idea to say that to a ten-year-old and a six-year-old after their grandpa dies.”

Tristan rolled his eyes theatrically, “she asked why so many people came and why she’d never met any of them if they loved her grandpa so much.”

“Well, you can expect a bill for their therapy in a few years,” you laughed, forking more lasagna into your mouth.

Tristan made his way over to the fridge and pulled out the glass dish, helping himself to a piece when Jeff took a seat beside you. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” you glanced at him sideways, suspicious about any ulterior motive he might have.

“Okay, Y/N,” Jeff laughed, Tristan eyed you from over his shoulder like he didn’t believe you. “Let me try again. How are you feeling emotionally?”

You cleared your throat and swallowed the most recent bite of dinner. “Oh, you mean cause my husband left me six months ago and my dad just died and now I’m a single mom with two fiesty daughters who just inherited a giant house aaaaaand,” you drew out the word for dramatic effect. “I’m a business owner who barely gets any sleep?”

“That’s what I was getting at, yes,” Jeff nodded and fought a smirk.

“I’m alright,” you sighed. “Tired. Kind of freaked out about what the fuck is going on in my life, but, I’ll survive. I always survive."

You knew you would--in fact, you’d been waiting for this moment for the last few weeks. When Jeff’s mom called to tell you your dad needed to be put in hospice, you prepared. You talked to Maeve and CeCe and explained it all in a way they’d understand. His life on earth is over, but we can still talk to him and visit a pretty garden to remember him.

It was a lot to deal with only a few months after your high school sweetheart turned husband admitted he’d been having an affair and moved out, you saw on Facebook that he’d since bought a motorcycle and was spending most of his time at bars along the coast. That whole fiasco was harder to explain to your children.

And now suddenly everyone wanted to make sure you were okay. Frozen dinners, offers to drive your kids to and from their extracurriculars, a lot of attention was suddenly thrust onto you and your family, as if you hadn’t always hated that growing up.

But you knew the time would come when life would settle back down. Cousins and aunts and uncles would fly home, people would stop asking how you were doing post divorce. Dust would settle and the sun would set on this chapter and frankly, it couldn’t happen soon enough.

So here you were, the funeral was over, the dinner in his honor at Jeff’s parents, the media coverage was starting to die down and life could return to normal. Or, at least, a new normal.

Your dad had been a fixture in your life--weekly dinner dates with grandpa gave you a minute to yourself after working long days and answering endless phone calls. A glass of wine on the couch or even dinner with Tristan and Zoey was a nice escape from breaking up fights or figuring out how to reattach the head of a Barbie doll after someone shoved someone into a closet and tears and screaming ensued.

“You will definitely survive,” Jeff nodded.

Tristan came and sat, forked into the lasagna and made a face when he realized how bad it was. “Is this fake cheese?”

“Unfortunately,” you nodded.

Tristan made a face and then cleared his throat. “I, for one, think this is the start of a new chapter for you. New opportunities, new love,” he smirked.

A quick retort: “Yeah, that’s obviously the first priority right now.”

“He’s right, though,” Jeff said. “You have a fresh start, a totally new chapter.”

You nodded--they were right, but easing into a new chapter felt a lot better than trying to dive right in.

“Speaking of a fresh start, you know, changing things up,” Jeff forced a grin in your direction. “Can we actually talk for a second?”

You eyed him suspiciously, put your fork down to bow out from eating the world’s worst lasagna. “Yeah?”

“I have kind of a weird favor to ask. And--I know it’s kind of bad timing, with everything going on, but--just hear me out, okay?”

Instead of replying, you watched him, lifted your brows to encourage him to continue and tread carefully.

“So I have a client who isn’t from here, he bought a house but it’s in the middle of getting renovated. There’s kind of been a lot going on, it’s a long story.”

“Okay,” you nodded, unsure where he was going with it.

“He needs a place to stay, and I was wondering if maybe he could stay here for a little.”

“Here, like, here here?” You pointed to the floor of your kitchen, an elegant upgrade from the more modest house in Woodland Hills you’d occupied before the divorce.

Along with the death of your father came the inheritance of his Bel Air estate and all of the bedrooms, the four car garage, the manicured lawn and the pool out back. Some people thought you should sell it, use the cash to make trusts for the girls or save for college.

Selling it didn’t feel right, though. It was the house he worked so hard for, the house you called home for the later half of your teen years and the place you always came back to when things got hard. So instead of putting it on the market and closing that chapter, once again, you returned to the safe haven in the hills when you didn’t know where else to turn.

“Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but you have the room and it might be fun to have someone else around and--”

“I have two daughters, Jeff, I can’t just let a stranger live with us.”

“He’s not a stranger, Y/N, he’s my friend. We’re really close.”

“Who is he?” Tristan asked, waving his fork in the air to remind us that he was still present.

“Harry Styles.”

Tristan’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “The kid from the boyband?”

“No way,” you shook your head, dismissing it before you could even let his name register. “I’m not having a pop star boy band kid stay in my house.”

“Okay,” Jeff held up a hand to get Tristan to relax, then moved to point at you. “He’s 24, number one. He’s not a kid, he’s, like, only a few years younger than us.”

“Yes,” you nodded, “exactly. I don’t need a 24-year-old living with my daughters.”

“He’s not like that, though. He’s responsible and he’s a family friendly dude, and--”

“Then why can’t he live with you? Or with your parents?”

“I don’t have the room,” he said. “And my dad hates house guests.”

You rolled your eyes, it was obnoxious, but it was true. Irv hated having people stay over almost as much as he hated it when your dad beat him in golf.

Jeff took your silence as an opportunity to continue selling you on the idea. “He just finished his tour, he’s working on his second album. He’s probably going to be in the studio a lot, Y/N. Do you really think I would let some crazy party animal live with my nieces?”

Another eye roll from both you and Tristan.

“Is this like, just a few nights?” You asked.

“Like, two weeks. Tops.”

“Two weeks?!” You shook your head. “No--I can’t put them through that after all the shit that’s been going on this year. Why can’t he just stay in a hotel?”

“Cause that’s lonely and he’s a people person and--I don’t know, it might be good for you to have someone around.”

You rolled your eyes that, was it a jab at your new status as a single mom or new status as a fatherless daughter? Unsure.

Jeff stood from the counter and grabbed for his phone on the far end of the island. “Just think about it, okay? I’ve gotta run. A few weeks, built in babysitting, maybe--he’s great with kids.”

“I’ve already thought about it,” you told him, resting your chin in your hand and offering a sugary sweet smile. “No fucking way.”

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice called from upstairs, you hoisted yourself up, ready to tuck them in and forget that Jeff had ever asked such a ludicrous question.

“I would owe you big time--it might be fun! You’ve got the room, he could be a positive male influence on the girls.” He wiggled his eyebrows at the end of his sentence--like that would really sway you.

“And I’m not that?” Tristan pulled his head back, offended.

“You’re the one who told them funerals are stupid,” Jeff said with a sarcastic smirk.

“And you’re the crazy one trying to let a stranger move in here like it’s an AirBnB,” you shot back at Jeff. “So maybe they do need a better male influence than both of you.”

“Mommy!” CeCe called again, more impatient this time.

“I’m coming!” You shouted. “You, let yourself out when you’re finished eating this terrible meal,” you pointed at Tristan and the lasagna. “And you,” you pointed at Jeff with a smirk. “Please never speak to me again.”

He was already heading for the door, keys in hand when he blew you a kiss. “Love you, see you soon!”

“Love you,” you called back, bounding up the stairs, mom mode activated.

A text message the next day when you were at work:

Jeff Azoff (1:43pm): 🙏��🙏😇

You blew air from your lips, Zoey sat across from you at a conference table when you took a late lunch. She was the first friend you made when you started high school, your long time confidant aside from Tristan and Jeff and a sure bet to tell it like it is.

Now she regularly popped into the Luna offices and she loved nothing more than acting like she was a higher up at your business. She’d rather be doing that than admit she was a new mom with no clue what the next chapter of her life would look like. You had that in common.

Her two-month-old son, Benny, sat in a carrier on the ground, his eyelashes fluttered when Zoey put her feet up on the chair beside her.

“What’s the sigh for?”

“Jeff is being annoying.”

“What’d he do now?”

You looked over at her, nose deep in her phone when you took another bite of the burrito bowl she’d picked up for you. You didn’t know if it was worth it to explain it all. Zoey was excitable, never one to turn down an adventure and her aptly timed identity crisis that came with becoming a mom was sure to make her encourage bad decisions even more.

She looked up at you, suddenly aware of the wheels spinning in your mind.

“Spill it,” she instructed. She put her phone down and let out a breath, clasped her hands and waited for you to fill her in.

“He asked me to let a friend of his stay with us in my dad’s house.”

“Your house,” she corrected. “Deed’s in your name now.”

“My house,” you nodded. “And I feel weird about it.”

“Who’s the friend?”

“Some client of his,” you tried to wave it off as if the name didn’t matter.

It didn’t, really. You’d long been exposed to the rich and famous just because of the nature of your father’s work. He was one of the biggest managers in the music industry in partnership with Jeff’s dad, so you were no stranger to beautiful people with beautiful cars and beautiful homes. When Jeff took on the family business, you only grew more accustomed to it.

“So a celebrity?” she shimmied her shoulders in excitement. “Which one?”

“Harry Styles,” you said the name slowly, quietly, even though it was just the two of you in the second floor conference room and even though this was your office that you bought and you owned and you ran.

“He’s hot,” she nodded casually, less impressed than you’d expected.

“He’s also like twenty-something, so it's disgusting for you to say that.”

“Oh relax,” she dismissed your concern. “He could be your pool boy.”

Zoey--who also grew up in Southern California and spent plenty of time at your house as a kid--hadn’t yet grown so accustomed to the coming and going of celebrities. Her parents owned a florist shop in Santa Monica and in high school you had to tell her she could only come to a Britney Spears concert if she didn’t cry when you inevitably met her in the green room thanks to your dad.

“I have children,” you reminded her. “A ten-year-old who might as well be fifteen and a six-year-old who would think I literally bought her a human playmate.”

“But if he’s friends with Jeff I highly doubt he’s a serial killer,” she reasoned.

“Wow, you are completely missing the point.”

“What’s the point, then?”

“It’s weird--I can’t have a stranger move in with my kids.”

“Why not?”

“Because first their dad left us and now their grandpa died.”

“Sounds like they need a new man in their life.”

You ignored the similarity of her words with Jeff’s from the other night. “I just think it’s crazy.”

“Okay,” she sat up straight and suddenly looked like this was morphing into a business conversation. “How long?”

“Two weeks.”

“Oh my god,” she turned her palms towards the sky. “Just do it.”

“What? No!”

“It’s two weeks--it’ll take your mind off of all the shit that’s been going on, it’ll be a fun distraction for the girls. You have so much space in that house you will never even know he’s there. And you’re helping a friend.”

She wasn’t wrong: Harry could likely stay in the bedroom all the way on the other end of the hall from where the girls slept. Maeve was thrilled to get her own room in the move and CeCe would occasionally run into your room after a nightmare, so the space was a plus.

He’d have his own room, his own bathroom. Hell, he could even park in the extra garage and enter from the back of the house. Maybe you wouldn’t even notice he existed.

You sighed, tugged at your necklace when you met her gaze. “I just feel really protective over them right now. I feel like Luke ruined their sense of family and now with my dad gone--”

She stuck her tongue out in disgust at the sound of your ex’s name. “I get that--but they have you. They have Jeff and his family and they have me and Shawn and now Benny.”

You offered a small smile at her reassurance. She was right in a lot of ways. The Azoffs were as much a family to your daughters as they had been to you. Shelli and Irv were like grandparents, they offered to babysit plenty of times and they always managed to get the girls the most amazing birthday presents.

But something in you knew it wasn’t the same. You’d dreamed of giving your daughters the sense of family you never had: a mom and a dad who loved each other. One house, not two that had two different beds and sets of books or toys.

Luckily and unluckily, your ex hadn’t made a huge deal about custody. Visits here and there were outlined in your divorce papers, but at this point in time he didn’t seem the most interested in maintaining a relationship with his daughters, even though he promised way back when that he’d never leave.

Getting pregnant with him during college wasn’t planned, but he swore you’d make it work and you tied the knot only a few months before Maeve was born. Things were good at first, you always knew you’d have more than one--if only to combat your own only-child loneliness--and then CeCe came five years later when you felt a little more prepared.

“I don’t think it’s going to traumatize them, Y/N. I mean, the least you could do is meet the guy.”

You watched her for a minute, blew air from your nose in a huff before you picked up your phone.

Y/N L/N (1:56pm): Fine. I’ll meet him.

Three days later you pulled up to a cafe in Brentwood and took a deep breath in the parking lot. If he was creepy, you wouldn’t go for it. If you got even the slightest weird vibe from him, you’d ex-communicate Jeff and only go over to visit his parents with the girls when he wasn’t around.

You’d already been leaning towards just doing it, especially once Tristan got a glass of wine in you and reminded you what your dad would have said: he who helps is one who prospers.

A few sleepless nights left you staring at the ceiling and wondering if you were crazy. You just now had the chance to let life settle down and here you were, mourning the loss of your biggest supporter, trying to piece yourself back together post divorce, and considering letting a stranger move in? Grief really did do strange things to people.

But when you walked in and found them sitting at a table in the back, something clicked.

Your dad was already fond of your possible houseguest, which you only knew from overhearing previous conversations between him and Irv about how proud they were of Jeff for picking up the family business, and now it all made sense.

A small part of you--probably the stupidest part of you--wondered if there was something cosmic about it. Your dad was always one to let his artists stay in the house, if they weren’t creepy, of course. You grew up with bands rehearsing in the backyard and going to shows at the Troubadour before you were old enough to drive, and you turned out fine.

“Hi,” Harry stood, offered a hand and introduced himself after Jeff gave you a kiss on the cheek. “Harry, pleasure to meet you.” Polite, maybe a bit of a kiss ass. Your dad must have loved him.

“Y/N,” you nodded, sat down when Jeff tugged out a chair for you. “Thanks for--uh--meeting with me, I guess.”

“Thanks for maybe letting me stay at your house,” he offered a sheepish smile, held your gaze for a second when Jeff adjusted the sunglasses clipped to his shirt.

“I’m actually surprised you guys haven’t met before,” he said.

“I’ve been a little busy this year,” you reminded him with a nod. “But--nice to finally meet you.”

Harry nodded, a dimple in his left cheek ignited a tiny spark in your chest, but you pushed Zoey’s words out of your mind. Two weeks, it wasn’t a big deal. He’d be in and out and this would be a blip on the radar.

“We can order coffee or something, but Y/N, I’m assuming you have like, a whole interrogation mapped out?”

You pretended to laugh at Jeff’s joke, turned to Harry and offered a no-nonsense smile. “I have two children, I got divorced earlier this year and my dad just died. So I don’t need any drama or anything. This is temporary and I’m doing this to help out a friend. Jeff, that is, not you.”

He laughed at your clarification and nodded. “Right. This is just me living in your house. No drama. Short-term.”

“And obviously my children will be there, so no guests.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Okay I’m not that much older than you,” you said it quickly, offered a small smile when he looked a little scared.

“Sorry--no, I didn’t mean that in a rude way.”

“No ma’am,” you added a rule, pulling a laugh from both of them when you lifted another finger in the air to count them off. “No drugs or alcohol, unless it’s like a glass of wine at dinner or something,” you shrugged.

“Look,” Jeff leaned forward. “Y/N’s kids are great, she’s got a great skincare company and she’s a kickass human. And you need a place to stay, so don’t fuck this up.”

“You both have my word. No drugs, no alcohol, no guests, no ma’am,” he smirked in your direction. “I’ve lived alone for a while, so, it’ll be nice to have some roommates.”

You nodded slowly and watched him for a second. A hoodie with the name of the management firm your dad and Irv had started, a backwards baseball hat and simple Ray-Bans. You ignored the fluttering in your veins from just looking at him, your own words echoed against the walls of your skull: he’s also like twenty-something, so that’s disgusting.

This was his brand, you were sure. Something Jeff had worked hard on--the looks, the smile, the exact formula that management firms drooled over was playing out in front of you. You sipped your drink once the waiter delivered three cappuccinos. Two weeks, tops.

Los Angeles afternoons were meant for playing outside, which is what your daughters did best if they weren’t busy pulling each other’s hair. You had dinner on the stove--enough for five--and a knot of nerves in your stomach when the wheels of his fancy car crunched atop the gravel.

The girls ran to greet him and Jeff showed him around the house. Now, Harry sat across from you at the table, Maeve to his left with an unimpressed look on her face when you cleared your throat. “Okay, gratitude time.”

Jeff set his fork back down, a guilty look on his face to admit he’d forgotten about your pre-dinner ritual.

CeCe squirmed in her seat, let out a sigh when Maeve protested with a flutter of her eyelashes. “I don’t have anything to be thankful for,” she informed you.

“That feels a little hard to believe,” you nodded, losing patience for her attitude over the last few days. “CeCe, do you want to go?”

Your younger daughter looked up at you, scrunched her mouth and thought about it. “I don’t have anything either.”

You tried not to groan aloud. After the week you’d had and the sudden changes in your life, disciplining your daughters felt like the last thing you wanted to do, if only they’d just behave.

“I can go,” Harry lifted his hand sheepishly as if he was sitting in a classroom and not in your dining room, a dimple on his cheek when he smiled sheepishly.

“Take it away,” you motioned towards him.

“M’thankful for being here, having a place to stay--and what looks like it will be a delicious meal.” By now he had a bit of smug look on his face, maybe proud of the fact that he’d broken the ice and stepped up to the pre-dinner prompt.

“Mom’s cooking is a solid six out of ten on a good day,” Maeve looked over at him, her fork now in her hand as if she was ready to dig in.

“Okay,” you leaned in and caught her gaze. “Drop the attitude or go to your room.”

“I’m thankful for Emma,” she named her friend, her quick submission after she rolled her eyes told you she just wanted to eat and get this over with. “She warned me today that Hayley was wearing a shirt I wore last week so I think she’s copying me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, you’d accept anything at this point. “CeCe? Last chance.”

“I’m grateful for pudding.”

Harry let out a quiet laugh, you nodded and said: “Great. I’m thankful for you two,” you smiled at them, hopeful that this nightly tradition would hold some type of meaning, more than just eye rolls and pre-pubescent angst from Maeve.

Jeff looked over at the girls, “I’m thankful for my friend Harry getting to meet my other friends, CeCe and Maeve.”

“Aww,” Harry smiled, a hand clutched to his heart when he looked between them.

“Alright,” you were annoyed by how good your daughters were at turning on their charm for anyone but you. Jeff was often the fun uncle, just like your ex had been the fun dad, which left you forcing them to play this gratitude game every night after they finished their homework.

CeCe wasted no time digging into the spaghetti on her plate, leaving Jeff to ask Maeve: “so what are you going to do about Hayley?”

“I don’t know,” Maeve sighed. “She’ll die when she finds out that you’re sleeping over,” she pointed her fork at Harry.

“He’s not sleeping over,” you corrected. “He’s staying in one of the guest rooms, remember?” You’d already explained it a few times to them. A few weeks, he’s working on more music, he’ll be busy, he’s not here to play with you.

“Whatever,” Maeve said. “Maybe I’ll hold it over her.”

“Maeve,” you looked over, unsure what had gotten into her. “I thought we talked about this stuff with Hayley?”

“I know--but she just keeps annoying me,” Maeve explained.

“Dump pasta on her head,” CeCe suggested with a giggle.

“Don’t do that,” you looked at CeCe and poked her in the stomach.

“I personally am a big fan of that idea,” Jeff smiled over at CeCe. “But it’d probably be better to just forget about it. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

“Or the sincerest form of annoying,” she retorted.

Harry let out a laugh at that, caught your gaze when you wondered how soon it’d take him to get annoyed with your kids.

They were great--smart, funny, clever, definitely witty and sometimes dramatic. But they were good kids.

You remembered how tough it was to adapt to motherhood, even though they were your own. Something told you that Harry, no matter how short his stay would be, was not in the chapter of his life that entailed finding joy in playdates and pillow fights.

But he made it through dinner, quiet but friendly and as soon as Maeve was finished, she begged him to play squishball outside before sunset.

“Squishball?” his eyebrows dipped together. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s basically just baseball but with a softer bat and a foam ball cause mom doesn’t want us to break our skulls,” Maeve informed.

“I never said break your skulls,” you argued.

“But it’s what you meant,” she shrugged.

“I would love to play,” Harry laughed, unbelievably entertained by the back and forth he’d already witnessed. They yanked him outside and set up their tiny diamond, CeCe pulled on a tutu just for flair and you and Jeff were left to handle the aftermath of a family dinner.

Jeff put the final plate into the dishwasher after a little bit and offered a hesitant smile when he turned around. “So?”

“So what? It’s been like an hour and a half of him being here.”

Their laughter from outside was audible, CeCe shrieked when Maeve made contact with the bat and sent the ball soaring into the air. “The girls clearly love him.”

“Of course they do--they love anyone for the first two hours.”

“I think he’ll be good for you guys.”

You rolled your eyes, wiped the counter with the sponge when he continued.

“And you guys will be good for him.”

This got your attention. “How so?”

“He’s a people-person, never likes being on his own too much. Some structure and responsibility is good for him.”

“So I’m babysitting him?”

“Oh my god,” he laughed. “Relax, will you? This could be a mutually beneficial thing if you let it, that’s all I’m saying.”

You didn’t read too much into it, you figured Jeff was peppering you with reassurance only to calm your nerves or quell your concerns. When he was finished helping you clean, he hugged the girls goodbye and waved over his shoulder, leaving Harry alone in your house with you and your daughters and nothing but good intentions.

You left him downstairs at first, helped CeCe brush her hair and sat on the floor when Maeve picked out her clothes for the next day: hopefully Hayley doesn’t own this dress.

When you headed back downstairs an hour later, the girls were tucked in, the lights were off, and your usual plan would have been to check your work emails if it weren’t for the dimpled guy in your living room.

He stood at the bookcase, hands clasped behind his back when you found him.

“Hi, sorry--bedtime is always a--” you paused, not even knowing the right label. “A shit show. But thanks for playing with them earlier.”

He laughed, turned around and offered a smile. “No worries--they seem like great kids.”

“They are,” you assured. “Maeve’s been a bit snarky lately but I think that’s just the whole beginning of puberty thing.” You cringed a little when the words left your mouth, wondering if it was too much information for someone who likely had cooler things to do than talk about ten-year-olds and training bras.

But he smiled, shoved his hands in his pockets when you said: let me show you around.

He’d arrived at the worst time. Homework, dinner prep, CeCe crying because Maeve finished her homework first. You didn’t have the chance to give him a tour and you figured it would be better coming from you than from Jeff, that way you could remind him of all the rules.

You showed him the ground floor first. The library, the family room, the two offices and the three different remotes that all worked different TVs or speakers or lamps. He marveled at the pictures on the wall in your dad’s old office space, he was a legend, he told you.

He climbed the stairs behind you and whispered in response when you pointed out what was behind each door. Bathroom, Maeve’s room, CeCe’s room, guest room, another bathroom, master suite, guest room, his room.

You pushed the door open and stepped aside to let him in. Gray walls, a wooden four-post king-sized bed. Throw pillows you’d picked out when you moved in a few weeks ago, a dresser to the left. He looked around and nodded. “S’perfect.”

“Good,” you said, walking over to a small linen closet in his attached bath. “Towels are in here, should be soap and stuff in the shower--had our housekeeper stock it.”

“Thanks,” he nodded again.

“I don’t know where you parked, but there’s a garage in the back that my dad used to keep some of his sports cars in--there’s definitely room and that way you don’t have to leave yours out if it rains.”

Were you talking too much? You just wanted him to feel at home or at least welcomed.

“Amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

A repetitive answer but it didn't stop you from rambling.

“Keurig’s on the counter--creamer in the fridge. Should be plenty of food but obviously feel free to stock what you like. Except like, weed.”

“Weed doesn’t go in the fridge...” he eyed you suspiciously, the same dimple appeared on his cheek and you rolled your eyes.

“I know--I know weed doesn’t go in the fridge.”

“Just the no drug policy,” he nodded.

“Right. Am I forgetting anything?”

He shifted his weight on his feet and shrugged his shoulders, a subtle shake of his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” you nodded, one final look around the room to make sure he had what he needed. His duffle bag was already in the corner, you’d told Jeff to put it upstairs and out of the way so CeCe and Maeve didn’t get nosy.

“I just have a question actually, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah?”

“When did you move in here?”

“Uh, beginning of August, so like, almost a month ago.”

He nodded, his eyes curious despite the fact that he didn’t ask more.

“We had to put my dad in hospice, I was looking for a place anyway after,” a quick motion over your shoulder to gesture to the girls. “My divorce, so--a lot of change, but it’s been nice to be home.”

He nodded thoughtfully, the quiet of the bedroom suddenly felt heavy. “S’a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” you looked around the room again, if only to put your eyes somewhere other than his face. “I felt shitty about redecorating it at first, but--it was a little too much of a 70s bachelor pad.”

“Leave it to Walt,” he joked.

That piqued your interest. “Did you know my dad? Like, did you spend any time with him?”

He pushed his lips out in thought but shook his head when he sat down on the bed. “Not really--met him a few times at events with Jeff, but I never spent any quality time with him.”

You nodded--he was a busy guy, popular and well respected in his industry. “He was a good person, good grandfather, too.”

Harry smiled at that. “Always heard that Irv was the balls but your dad was the heart.”

You laughed, scrunched your nose at the saying you’d heard a hundred times. The two of them were partners in crime, two peas in a pod, yet they couldn’t be more different. He spoke again before you could reply, voice soft in the sleepy house.

“I mean, if you're his daughter he obviously did something right.”

He held your gaze just long enough for you to feel something, something you pushed out of your mind so quickly that your hand was on the door knob before he could even say goodnight.

Two weeks, tops.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

tag list: @sunflowerryvol6 @trulymadlykiki @kaybee87 @thurhomish @tpwkhoney @70s-harry @la-cey @sing-me-a-song-harry @morethanamelodyy @theresnooneheretosave @ihearthemcallingforyou @sunfloweratheart @g0bl1nqueen @millennial-teenybopper @rainbowparadiseharry @justsaying20 @andwhenshesays @harryinsweatersandbandanas @harrys-cherriesss @harrys-cherrry @cronias13 @burberryharold @15christyxoxo @dayxoxodreamer @stepping-into-the-light @mvaldez7821 @barnestann @styles217 @fineelineee @ursamajor603 @tayrenea @hayyyayy @mellamolayla @lovelylemonadeaddict @harrystyle-ish @harryspirate @apples2019 @goldeng1rl8 @rainbowbutterflyboy

527 notes · View notes