#this little ball in my stomach feels like its growing larger by the hour

[ishades]

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[navegandoaciegas]

Hay(wire)

Kinktober 1/31 : quickie, face fucking, facial.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: smut, explicit language, unprotected vaginal sex, sex in a barn, oral sex, facial, set after the events of CA:TWS.

Yeah, I actually did it 💀

A/N: day 1 of @itgetsdarksometimes35 spooky challenge + Kinktober.

Bucky despises you.

He loathes how his heart rate picks up whenever he sees you, or how the pit in his stomach grows larger when he doesn't. He can’t stand the way the other farmers talk about you and look at you, but mostly he hates how you bite your lips and clench your thighs when he catches you staring, the tangy scent that floods his senses when he’s close to you, and how you never question why an American veteran would be picking hayballs in the Romanian countryside.

He hates your kindness, the way you hang onto his every word when he describes the night sky, your stained hands and the flowers you weave in your hair, your nipples showing through your white t-shirts, his blood draining from his brain and shooting straight to his cock just looking at you.

You bring out the beast, the soldat lingering inside some recess in his mind, the side of him that wants to own you, and ruin you for everyone else.

You bother him, talking and being nice. Smiling. Cracking jokes. Eating your lunch with him when the other boys are too afraid to approach him. Filling the silence with your stories while he munches on buni’s sarmalele and merely grunts in acknowledgement. Bringing him water when he sweats buckets under the sweltering sun. Shamelessly flirting like you find him attractive.

As if a pretty girl like you could ever want him, he thinks, with the stench of horse shit clinging to his skin and oozing out of his pores.

He scoffs at himself, and stacks another hayball, willing himself to forget all about you.

-

You know he hears your steps on the cobblestones before you enter the barn where he’s stacking hay in neat piles, like he always does before going to bed.

“You can continue this tomorrow, I’m sure buni won’t mind if you take a break.” you quip, closing the door and leaning on the wooden stall.

You eye his tanned skin, reddened by the scorching August sun, the strain on his sweaty long sleeved t-shirt that clings to his bulging biceps, the outline of his back muscles as his chest heaves.

There’s something animalistic about him, something that makes your stomach churn and your pussy tingle. When his t-shirt trails up, you can’t help but observe the hard planes of his abs and the coarse, black hair that trail them.

“I’m doing what she pays me for, and so should you.”

He dismisses you with a curt nod as he keeps lifting the hay and stacking it away for the winter.

By that time, you’ll both be long gone, so you might as well make the most of what you have.

“I’m done picking plums, if you must know.” you state, an unimpressed look making its way on your face. “You work twelve hours everyday, and you won’t drink her țuică or smoke the cigarettes she gives the other boys.” you say, approaching him slowly until you’re standing in front of him, so close you can see the darkness in his eyes and smell his pungent sweat, “She worries about you, you know.”

Your eyes stray from his, traveling down to his plump lips. He swallows thickly and inhales a sharp breath.

“I worry too.” you continue, stalking closer.

His manly, musky scent is intoxicating, and you feel short of breath, heat and slick pooling in your panties.

“Always working, never having any fun. Life must be very lonely for you.”

There’s static energy, or maybe magic, between you two.

“My life’s just fine.”

He’s gruff as always, but you hear his voice waver when his eyes drop to your own lips, and he finds them parted, and so inviting.

You shrug, feeling your skin crawl with anticipation, want, need. “I know, I’m just saying, I could make it less… lonely.”

You see him cave. You know he wants you, and he’s never exactly subtle about it. But when your hand reaches for his left arm, the spell shatters, the air gets sucked out of the little barn, and the growl that he lets out terrifies you and excites you at the same time.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” he snarls, snatching his arm away from you. He looms over you, rage burning behind his steel blue eyes. “Or-”

He interrupts himself, taking a step back and restraining whatever wild instinct is clouding his judgement. The veins on his neck swell up, and the smirk on your lips and your tangy smell only add to his irritation.

You know you shouldn’t prod. You know he could crack your skull in half without breaking a sweat.

But you’ve also seen him bathed in spring’s pollen, cooing at newborn chicks and patting their feathers, whispering soft words in a language you don’t speak. You’ve seen him kissed by the summer’s sunrise, leaning his head on uică Dan’s horse while petting his mane, and humming to mătușă Ana’s cow while milking her.

You’ve seen him sneak outside your room every morning for the past two months to leave wildflowers on your doorstep, and you know he’s the one who carries you to your bed when you fall asleep on the deck chairs outside, after stargazing together for hours, and pecks a lingering kiss on your forehead, whispering to you, his sweet girl, to sleep tight.

So no, you’re not afraid, and very turned on.

“Or what, big guy? What are you going to do?”

Jaw clenched, fists so tight his knuckles are white, nostrils flared. He closes his eyes, heaves a heavy sigh and mutters a ‘fuck that’ under his breath, and in a blur he’s on you.

But he’s not hitting you, no.

Just like you predicted, he goes haywire, feral, his mouth is on yours, his tongue prods your lips, his hands roam everywhere, tangling your hair and kneading the flesh of your ass.

He bites your bottom lip, and you taste metal on your tongue. A moan escapes you when one of his thick thighs comes between your own, and your core rubs against the rough material of his jeans.

“Took you long enough.” you tease him when he allows you to catch your breath.

He’s sweaty, rough, his clothes soiled by the ground he spends his days working on, and you find that you don’t care, that you want him to dirty you and ruin you in this barn, with hay poking your skin and cicadas screaming outside.

You’re staring at each other, panting, eyes swallowed by darkness.

He doesn’t answer, never speaks much anyways. He’s on you again, his hand on your throat, and it doesn’t hurt but it’s tight enough to make its threatening presence known.

Your walls flutter around nothing.

The other hand, splayed on your back, guides you as you grind yourself on his thigh. It’s been two months of sexual tension, and it’s about to explode.

You reach for his t-shirt, eager to feel his skin against yours, but he stops you, and the look in his eyes, hard yet pleading, is enough to make the protest die in your throat.

Your own shirt is discarded, maybe shred to pieces. His touch is bruising and desperate as he explores your body like it’s his last day on Earth.

He nips and sucks your skin, surely leaving dark marks behind, rolling and pinching your nipples between his fingers, swirling his tongue around them until you’re pushing him off of you.

“I need you.” you moan, shrieking when his teeth bite down on your shoulder.

Pain is a bucket of cold water on your burning skin, a contrast to the pleasure he brings you, and yet it doesn’t diminish it, but amplify it until his teeth on your flesh are all you want.

He lets himself fall on the hay, dragging you down with him. It irks you, pokes you, and quite frankly, it doesn’t smell like roses.

But it will do.

He hooks his fingers around the waistband of your leggings and hastly drags them down to your knees, not even bothering to get rid of them.

When he pulls on your hair and spins you around, it’s not romantic. When he forces you face down, ass up, it’s not pretty. When he spits on his hand and roughly shoves two fingers inside you, making you wince, it’s not soft and caring.

“I’ll take care of you later, need to be inside you now, doll. I’ve wanted you since the day I first saw you.” he murmurs.

You hear him fumble with his belt as he keeps rubbing your clit and pumping his calloused fingers in and out of you. “It’s been so long.” he adds, as an afterthought, while he strokes his cock and gets himself ready for you.

The hay scratches your cheeks, and you feel his intense presence as he kneels behind you, ready to take you like an animal in heat.

“Please.” you whine, wiggling your hips and brushing against him, “I need you to fuck me now, James.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, and lines himself up with your entrance, teasing your folds and smearing your arousal on his tip. You feel him prod your tight hole and you brace yourself for the pain, but when he breaches you, your walls stretch perfectly around him, accomodating him, and all you feel is a dull burn that soon gives way to pleasure.

Moaning at the fullness of his heavy weight inside you, you try to bounce on him, but his hands on your hips halt your movement. He's as rough as you expected him to be, and the coil in your core is unbearable.

“Fuck, you’re so damn tight.” he groans, picking up a faster pace, slamming in and out of you. “Made for me, so good.”

He pulls on your hair, and the pain shoots straight to your cunt, making your walls clench on him.

Arching your back you meet his harsh thrusts, feeling his cock hitting that spot inside you, the one that makes the pressure build impossibly fast every time he bumps against it.

It’s all too much and not enough, and when he tugs on your hair again, your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You don’t feel the hay scratching you anymore.

“Fuck me harder.” you plead with tears streaming down your face, revelling in the lewd squelching sounds of your pussy and the slapping ones of his balls hitting your folds.

He never talks, and he won’t start now, you realize. You don’t care though, because all you can think about is his other hand snaking between your legs and furiously rubbing circles around your swollen clit.

You mewl when he snaps his hips and his tip hits your cervix. “I wanna hear those sweet noises pretty girl, wanna hear you fall apart on my cock, only for me.”

He brings you high, and higher, and the pressure grows more and more, until the knot unravels.

“Cum on my cock, fuck, cum all over me sweet girl. I missed this so much.”

When the dam breaks, you feel months of sexual tension release, and the tight coil inside your belly snaps. Your limbs jerk as a hot surge of electricity assails you, and you gush all over his cock, feeling your pussy constrict him in a vice.

He rides your aftershock, pummeling inside you while icy cold claws your every nerve ending. You’re drooling out of your mouth as a man you barely know brutally fucks you like a beast, but in the hazy state you’re in, you couldn’t care any less.

“I’m close.” he gnarls, tightening the hold on your hips, “Where can I-?

“On my face.” You turn and peek over your shoulder just in time to see the shock in his eyes. “I like it that way.” And I’m not on birth control.

When his thrusts become sloppier and his breathing erratic, he pulls out of you and stands. You turn around on your knees and face his thick cock, half wondering how he could make it fit inside your cunt.

“Open those pretty lips of yours babydoll, I want to fuck your mouth too.”

You comply, parting your lips. He shoves himself inside you, clutching your hair and neck as he fucks your mouth relentlessly, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag.

You can’t breathe anymore, but he keeps going, moving your head along his length. You taste him on your mouth, heady and salty, feeling every vein and ridge of him.

You look up, and seeing him all disheveled, hair sticking out everywhere and red faced, lights the fire in your pussy again.

Your hand finds its way between your folds while he holds you down until your nose rubs against the coarse hair on his pubic bones and his balls slap against your chin.

Quickly, he slides out of you, and pumps his cock once, twice. He cums on your face with a moan, painting your lips, cheeks and the tip of your nose with his white hot spurt.

When you open your eyes again, you find him staring at you already, with the most expressive look you’ve ever seen him wear and something akin to a smile dancing on his lips.

“God, doll. I didn’t even know I could do that.” he confesses, all doe eyed. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, babygirl. I’m gonna keep fucking that tight pussy of yours all summer.”

You let out a giggle when he hoists you over his shoulder and the hay that’s stuck to your clothes flies everywhere.

“Gonna fuck you until you’re sore, until you’re sobbing and you beg me to stop. Fill you up over and over again. Make this pussy all mine. No more other farm boys, you hear me?”

He keeps his word that night, and you keep yours all August long, and you know neither of you want this summer to ever end.

—-

Day 1 of Kintober done. Join my taglist if you want to be tagged in more :) (link on my blog)

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[jamilelucato]

Popcorn Taste [F.W]

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: It’s a bit awkward spending Christmas in the Burrow after what happened between you and Fred.

Warning: there’s a drunk scene, but the characters are not underage; fluffy;

A/N: of course I’m participating in my own challenge, why not? So this is Day 7- Making A Popcorn Garland for the A Very Harry Potter Christmas with @whack-ed​

Harry Potter Masterlist ||  Musical Hogwarts Series

Generally, being invited to spend the holidays with the Weasley was all you could’ve wished. This year, however, staying in that small house locked with tons of red-heads was not your first goal.

Nevertheless, when the letter arrived, there was nothing you could do but sigh and reply with “thanks for the invite; yes, I’m coming; no, I’m not bringing someone with me.”

Mrs and Mr Weasley had a special place in your heart — for all the days they allowed you to stay with them, particularly during the dark times of war, and after it, when you were alone. You had no choice but to show up and, fair enough, it wasn’t all that bad. You liked the older couple; you always laughed around Bill; Charlie had unique stories to tell, and even Percy remained quite pleasant and able to communicate when you were around.

It was the next son in line that worried your guts and caused the butterflies in your stomach to fly around.

You took one last look at your flat before holding tight to your luggage before Apparating to the Burrow. It was one week before Christmas, but it was the exact day — and time — that Mrs Weasley had written for you to show up.

CRACK!

The loud sound (of what probably used to be) a vase breaking echoed in the house, and you involuntarily ducked, even though there was no one in the living room to see you.

“[y/n]? Is that you?” Molly’s voice found its way to where you were still scared to move and break something else.

“It’s me, Molly,”— she would never allow you to call her Mrs Weasley in front of her — “and I think I broke something.”

She found her way to the living room, carefully stepping away from the broken pieces and reaching for you with her hands, firstly cupping your face and squeezing your cheeks before pulling you in a proper hug.

“It’s okay, dear! I’m so happy you came,” she whispered in your ear, before pulling you away and reaching for your luggage, not even asking if you wanted help.

“She’s been talking about you all week.”

At first, the voice seemed familiar, and it made you shiver until Molly stepped out of your sight and revealed the real speaker, standing near the door sill — and although he looked a lot like who you thought he was, he still wasn’t him.

“Hi, George,” you smiled sympathetically, slowly moving towards the younger twin, paying attention not to step on the broken vase.

He received you with a quick but tight hug. When you pulled away, your eyes searched for the other half of that pair, but you didn’t find the other identical face.

“Fred’s coming later,” George explained the question that you didn’t ask aloud.

“I wasn’t looking for him,” you denied with some charm, more out of fear of Molly listening and having second thoughts than fear of George finding out what was going on in the dark corners of your mind.

After all, you were pretty sure that George already knew.

When you surreptitiously looked back, however, Molly and her bags were no longer in the room.

“Since Mum’s taking care of your accommodation, come help me with de-gnoming the yard,” George suggested, putting one of his long arms over your shoulders and pulling you close.

“I thought this job was Ron’s,” you said, having a vague memory of a Christmas years ago, “and Potter’s.”

George smiled. “Ronniekins and Harriekins are only coming later in the night,” he explained, guiding you out of the Burrow. “But I think you’ll like to see who’s helping me out in the yard.”

As soon as he opened the door to the back, your eyes scanned the place, soon finding red hair in the wind, too long to belong to any other Weasley but: “Bill!!” you shouted, running towards him.

Bill smiled when he turned and saw you, and greeted you with a warm hug, as he always did when you spent days at the Burrow and felt left out.

“Hi, little one,” he stroked your hair before putting you back on the ground. “I think we have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Tell me about it! You’ll never know...” Bill let you vent until you saw the platinum blond woman coming towards the three of you, and she had a hand positioned at the end of her belly as if it was too heavy to carry. “Oh, my Merlin!!!”

Bill chuckled at your reaction at his pregnant wife.

You rushed to get closer to Fleur, afraid she was too slow because of the child she carried in her womb, but you slowed down when you got close, scared you could hurt her.

“Fleur! I can’t believe it! Can I...?” you looked down at where her hands were placed.

“Sure,” she said with her French accent still very strong. She smiled at you while you delicately pressed your hands on her belly, trying to feel the life growing on her. 

“How long...?”

“Four months,” Bill answered from behind you. “We wanted to be sure before telling the family.”

“And you were right in doing so,” you said between gasps of surprise — you were still very much fascinated with it. “Hey, George, when are you and Angelina....”

“Don’t even start!” he interrupted you in a protest and soon everybody was laughing, just like old times.

--

You weren’t surprised when, after a long two hours of de-gnoming the backyard and a well-deserved hot bath, you found your suitcase in the twins’ room.

Molly had installed you there for two reasons. The first was that gradually over the day, the rest of the Weasley siblings were arriving, and so the rooms filled up.

Bill and his wife stayed in his room; Percy and his wife switched places with Ginny in search of a larger one, so Ginny and Hermione were cramped in Percy’s old small room. Ron and Harry would share Ron’s room upstairs, and Charlie had his room to himself, as it was also a tiny room.

Therefore, the only room large enough to accommodate an extra mattress was the twins’.

The second reason was that you had been used to sleeping there since you were fifteen when on the hottest summer nights you ran away from Ginny’s room and were welcomed next to Fred and George. When you were a teen, you believed you did a great job being discreet, but now at 21, you reconsidered that maybe Molly always knew, but pretended not to see.

You quickly changed, afraid the boys could come in at any moment. You had heard Fred’s voice — Merlin, you’d recognize it at any distance — when you were getting out of the bathroom, so you were extra nervous when you left the room and headed to the kitchen, where the majority of the family was. Except for Fleur who needed to rest and Percy, his wife and Charlie that were in the living room.

“Here, she is!” Fred’s voice greeted you in that heartwarming way that only he had, and with just a couple of steps he reached you and held you in a tight hug, slightly taking your feet off the ground. 

“Hi, Freddie,” you whispered in his ear with a chuckle while he put you back on the floor. You saw his cheeks turning red because of the nickname and thought it was the cutest thing ever.

“Hope you’re hungry,” said George from behind Fred, but you couldn’t see him — Fred was your only view at that moment.

“Always am, Weasley,” you replied, placing your hands in the back pockets of your jeans and walking towards the smell of warm food. You had no idea what it was — you always sucked with scents — but it looked good. Fred turned in the direction you were walking, watching you.

Like you, he was scared to death that you both would be startled the next time you saw each other, but as soon as his eyes met yours, he couldn’t contain the joy and desire to at least embrace you.

The thing was, last time you two had seen each other was on a party in the twins flat, and, after a couple of drinks, you ended up kissing Fred in a bathroom. It actually happened like this:

“What are you doing here?” Fred asked when you stepped in the small bathroom of his room. He wasn’t angry, just surprised. Besides, he wasn’t naked or something — he had already done whatever he needed to do in the bathroom, but he needed to wash his hands before leaving.

“I know you said for us to use the guest bathroom, but whoever is in there hasn’t left since,” you sighed, staring at him slowly, taking your time to appreciate the view, “and I need to pee.”

“Oh, I’ll leave.”

“Please, don’t,” you said, a bit too fast. Even drunk, you noticed that you didn’t even hesitate. “It’s just... I’ll get lost in here alone.”

Fred looked around. He was drunk too, but he still had a clear idea that his flat wasn’t at all that big.

“Okay,” he agreed slowly, unsure of what else to say. He then turned to face the door, allowing you to do whatever you needed to do with some privacy.

Deep down, he loved the idea of being in a small room with you. It’s just, he was drunk, so it wasn’t the first scenario he had in mind.

“You can turn now,” you said; your voice followed by the sound of the flush. You stepped closer to the sink — there really wasn’t much space there — and after washing your hands, you were left to confront your darkest fears.

Fred stared down at you, his head above yours just like always, only this time, he was so close that it was almost terrifying. It made you weak in the knees. And you were so drunk...

“Kiss me.”

“Huh?” Fred shocked his head. He had heard you, he just wasn’t sure you wanted to make his wildest dreams come true.

“Kiss me, Freddie,” oh, the nickname — it was his weak spot, and he was so close now. Your hands cupped his cheekbone.

“You are drunk,” he stated, noticing that at any other circumstances, you wouldn’t have the balls.

“So are you,” you smiled, leaning closer to him and finally ending the last millimetres that were in your way.

Both of you remembered the kiss, even though the approach seemed to be like it never happened. It didn’t last much — someone knocked on the door, asking for Fred, saying they needed to say good-bye, and so he left you alone in that bathroom with just your thoughts and his smell all over you.

It had been two months since the kiss, and you two ignored each other since. Some nights, you wish you could’ve forgotten it, but how could you when every time you closed your eyes your brain replayed the moment?

--

“Lost in thoughts?” asked Molly as she placed some food in your plate during dinner.

You stared at her — truly lost in thoughts. She smiled, forcing you to smile back, but the corner of your mind was still thinking about Fred and the fact that in a couple of hours you’d be sleeping in his room. With him.

Dinner went well, and even the late hours by the fire — even though Ginny and Ron left you to sit on the floor. It was easy to distract yourself from Fred when he had like, a ton of other siblings to talk to. And unfortunately, that’s what you did — avoided talking to only him the whole night.

When you finally gathered enough courage, you went to the bedroom, already in your pyjamas. You came across a snoring George (how easy it was for him to sleep, it was a mystery), but Fred’s bed was still empty.

As you entered the room trying to make as little noise as possible, you realized that there was already a body on your mattress on the floor.

“Fred?”

Red hair fluttered, and in the dim light of the only candle in the room, you saw Fred’s eyes shine when they met you.

“What are you doing on my mattress?”

“Yours?” he asked in a voice not as low as yours. Perhaps he knew the limits of his brother’s hearing better than you. “You didn’t think I was going to let you sleep on the floor, did you?”

“Fred, please, it wouldn’t be a bother...”

“[y/n], just accept my bed for today. ’M already very well settled here to leave,” he debated, gesturing with his neck towards himself, where he really looked comfortable under a thick blanket.

You sighed, knowing very well, after years of being Fred and George’s best friend that there was no point with arguing. So you jumped on his old bed, trying to find a position, but already knowing it’d take you at least a couple of hours to finally sleep.

In a quick and not calculated movement, your head ended up turned on the pillow, making your breathing more limited, thus having to breathe through it.

It was a bad idea because, without warning, Fred’s scent invaded your nostrils. It wasn’t a bad smell, quite the contrary — it was very much inviting and, knowing that Fred was only less than a meter from you and remembering the taste of his kiss, sleeping was suddenly impossible that night.

You sighed, but could not move, paralyzed in that position — it was as if your body was addicted to his scent, and you wanted more and more. When you finally fell asleep, the dream that invaded your subconscious was not much different than what you imagined before you went to sleep.

--

“Popcorn duty?” asked Fred, catching up to you with just a couple of large steps.

“Yeah,” you sighed, trying not to sound so disappointed. Of course, spending time with Fred was marvellous, but since you kissed him and he never mentioned it again, it kinda seemed fair to you not want to be alone with him.

Fred didn’t notice something off with your tone, so he kept walking next to you towards the kitchen, where Molly had told you the popcorn was.

Placing yourselves next to each other, you were left responsible for holding the fishing wire, and Fred was in charge of the popcorn. You handed the point of the wire for him, who sought advice with his eyes.

You helped him with your hands — this time, you were the one to blush with the touch. You did not expect his hands to be so warm in the middle of winter.

“Do you reckon Mum would mind if we ate one?” he asked, raising a single popcorn up. “Or two?”

You chuckled at his worries, looking down at the bowl filled with old popcorn. You had no idea why he thought that was delicious. It still smelled like good popcorn, but you knew that, for these types of garlands, it needed to be ready, like, at least, one week earlier.

“They don’t look very appetizing to me,” you commented, tilting your head towards him, holding tightly to the wire since Fred seemed reckless with the thing.

“Ah,” Fred sighed, using the popcorn that he was about to eat to place in the garland. He seemed to be getting the hang of it by now. “Well, I’m just hungry,” he shrugged innocently.

“I bet. It’s not like you just ate breakfast, right?” you chuckled, and Fred joined, looking at you with the same sparkly eyes that captured your heart when you were just a kid. He had no idea that you have been liking him for so long.

“I’ll tell you what, before we go to bed, we can watch a movie and I’ll make you new popcorn,” you offered after a moment of silence. Fred wasn’t the quiet type of guy, so when the room was filled with it, something was definitely wrong.

He smiled with the opportunity you gave him. “Asking me on a date, [y/n]?”

You elbowed him, laughing nervous first, but when you realized that he was just teasing you, your laugh became more real. It was so easy to have fun with Fred.

After a few years of romantically craving him so strongly, you had forgotten that he was also a great friend.

“You wish, Weasley,” you chuckled.

Charlie walked in the kitchen, followed by Ron, and both of the brothers stared at you two for a while before getting back to what they planned on doing.

“Having fun?” asked Charlie with the cutest British mixed with Romanian accent ever.

You exchanged looks with Fred.

“No, he’s pretty boring,” you shrugged, before dropping your act and laughing out loud. 

“[y/n] won’t let me eat the popcorn,” Fred said, getting on board with your joke.

“That’s not what I said,” you raised a brow. Ron was about to roll his eyes, very much tired of your thing with Fred. He remembered you two back in school and how annoying and oblivious you two were. He was just like that with Hermione, but you were never the one to point it out. 

“I said that this popcorn is old,” you reached for one yourself, “and disgusting.”

“Are you complaining about Mum’s food?” Fred asked, dropping the wire over the table and crossing his arms, trying to look intimidating.

“She didn’t make it for us to eat it,” you pointed out. 

Charlie was leaned in the sink counter, watching the scene with a glass of water in his hands, trying hard not to laugh at the fact that you two were acting like an old couple. It kinda reminded him of when he was younger, and Arthur and Molly couldn’t stop arguing about what to do with the too-big-to-enter-the-house Christmas Tree.

“Let’s go, Charlie,” Ron called his older brother. “The ball ornaments won’t paint themselves.”

“You guys are painting the ornaments?” you expression suddenly turned blue. Fred looked down at you, feeling worried. “Oh, I wish I was painting.”

Fred bit his lip before suggesting “Why don’t you go with them? I think I can finish this myself.”

You looked from the bowl of popcorn still full with it to Fred, who had the cutest of faces. 

“Nah, you need me,” you said and then gulped at the double meaning of your words. “I mean, need me to finish this.”

Charlie and Ron exchanged suspicious looks while Fred stared at you, smiling with his eyes.

“Should we...?” Ron whispered to Charlie, who just placed his hands in the youngest’s back and pushed it.

“Just go,” Charlie whispered back, leaving you and Fred to get back to your own rhythm with things, distracted with each other.

--

When the popcorn garlands where ready, the tree was already inside the house — job done by Arthur and Bill. They had picked a beautiful tree (and to Charlie’s relief, this one fit the house).

Ginny and Hermione were the two focusing on placing the decorations on the right places, following the orders of Molly and Fleur (although the girls seemed to be paying attention only to Molly’s suggestions).

You were about to sit in the middle of Fred and George in the couch when Ron, Charlie, Percy and his wife walked in the house, holding a big transparent box filled with painted balls.

“Ow, let me see them!” you rushed next to Charlie and deepened your hands inside. “Are they still fresh?”

“No,” Charlie replied, noticing you were scared of ruining the ornaments.

The first one your hands touched you brought up, noticing it had two different names on it. In one side, [y/n] was written, but the other had Fred on it.

“Why two names?” you really wanted to ask why it was yours and Fred’s, but there were too many people on the room.

Ron and Charlie gulped, while Percy and his wife exchanged happy side looks.

“Mum wanted two names in each because she felt like our names were too short,” said Ron, but his explanation didn’t please anyone on the room, “or something,” he added a second later.

You placed the ball in your hands back in the box, and Charlie offered you a sympathetic smile.

You headed back to the couch, watching the girls finish placing the ornaments. Molly walked in, with a lot of bags on her hand, so Bill and George got up to help, leaving you and Fred on the couch alone.

“So... our date’s still up?”

You turned your face to him, at first confused, but then giggling.

“It’s not a date.”

“Did you invite anyone else?” he asked, leaning closer to you involuntarily.

“No,” you said as if it was clear.

“Then it is a date,” he smirked. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you asked me out.”

“Oh, shove off, Weasley,” you pushed him slightly, both of you laughing. Oh, how you wanted it to be a real date.

But sure it wasn’t. It couldn’t be, right? you wondered, staring at him from the corner of your eye.

--

“Okay, they’re gone,” Fred said, calling you from the stairs. You left his room on tiptoes, scared of waking the house up and reached him at the bottom of the staircase.

You two waited for everyone to leave the living room — where the only TV in the house could be found — and pretended to go to bed as well. When Fred’s watch pointed to one in the morning, he shook your arm slightly (waking you up but you’d never confess you had slept) and you both left for your adventure.

“So what movie did you get us?”

He turned to face you, who was sitting in the couch, bringing the blanket you had taken with yourself closer to your chin.

“While You Were Sleeping,” he answered. “Seemed to be the youngest Mum had around.”

“It’s a romance,” you pointed out, tilting your head provocatively.

“It’s not a...” Fred looked up to the TV where Sandra Bullock started walking around the streets. “It’s a romance,” he sighed, defeated.

You chuckled. “I like it. But do you?”

“Ahn,” he seemed lost in thought. “It doesn’t matter.”

You had no idea what that meant, but you gave him some room to sit next to you in the couch and for him to get under the covers, while the popcorn in your lap kept you two moving your mouths.

The movie seemed quite pleasant, but it was hard to pay attention when Fred’s smell was all over you once again, the only smell your body had no problem identifying.

You gulped in the dark. “Are you enjoying it?” you asked, sure that romantic movies could not possibly be Fred’s favourite genre.

“Yep,” he answered a bit too fast. Suspicious, you thought.

“Who’s your favourite character?” you decided to test him.

“The girl.”

“Why’s that?” his answers seemed too generic so when replied this last question you made, you were surprised.

“She likes the guy, but she’s afraid to give up what she idealized. She’s scared of the new,” he said, and although the answer appeared accurate to the movie, something told you he was not talking about Sandra Bullock’s character.

You turned to face him, noticing that he was way closer to you then you thought. Perhaps all the warm did not come from only the blanket. Fred gulped when he saw you staring at him.

“I think she has a valid reason for that.”

The corners of his lips raised just a little. “What’s that?”

“The guy hasn’t been very clear about what he wants either.”

Fred gulped, feeling his cheeks burn. You were right — he wasn’t talking about the movie character.

“Kiss me.”

Oh, the sentence that has been hunting both of you down this time was voiced by Fred Weasley and that could have not left you more speechless.

So you knew what you had to do, after all, the guy was being very clear about what he wanted.

Your lips met his, this time with no rush. It was like when a hummingbird meets a flower — delicate, even though deep down very much desperate.

At this moment, you two were alone, and you had time, and you weren’t drunk. This time was going to be perfect, and Merlin, how it was! Fred had this unique way of touching you softly but fervently, and each time his hands changed position, your body twisted, wanting more, wanting him to kiss you everywhere, hoping he wouldn’t go away.

When you two finally parted, after several attempts to do so, but neither wanting to stop kissing yet, he smirked down at you, leaving your body in his embrace.

“You taste like popcorn,” he said, breaking the silence of the living room since the movie had ended and neither of you had noticed.

“I hope it’s the good one,” you smiled too, feeling surrendered to his charms.

It was good to have him around you, his body twisted with yours, and it was even best to know that he wanted you as much or even more than you craved him.

“It’s the best one,” he said, before kissing you again.

[nanodayowrites]

always

by nanodayo

Anime/Manga: Fire Force

Pairing: Sagamiya Konro x Shinmon Benimaru (M/M)

Rating: M for now but will likely shift to E for explicit sexual content as well as violence.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Smut, Violence, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Light Angst, somewhat graphic depictions of injuries, ill probably update this as the story goes on!

Chapters 1/?? (I have a few written and will post more soon)

a/n: like i know,,,,fire force is a shounen so theres gonna be a lotta self inserts and self shipping fics,,,,,but its not what im particularly interested in so ive decided to take matters into my own hands. Benimaru and Konro were made for each other you cannot change my mind!! ALSO PLS NOTE IVE ONLY WATCHED THE ANIME!! but it doesn't really change much. theres no spoilers involved just beni and konro being all cute n shit

also, this is my first time writing fanfiction ever, and its my first time creative writing in a while, but im pretty happy with how its looking so far!

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

Konro stands by the entrance to the guardhouse, the epitome of patience. At first glance at least. Hika and Hina know better, and shoot him nervous glances between bites of their dinner. They see the tense lines of his shoulders, and the way he has not touched his food. They also see the slight tremor in his hands, but are kind enough not to make fun of him for it.

Benimaru has been away since sunrise, and the moon is now shining high above them. He was supposed to be visiting the 8th and briefly coordinating with their captain for an upcoming training session with their rookies. An hour later, Konro was informed that a large group of infernals had been spotted, and that Benimaru was assisting the 8th due to the magnitude of the damage being done. All in all, it was supposed to be a routine mission. Their captain should have been home by lunch.

The fact that he has been away for so much longer means something has gone wrong. The girls know Konro is worried sick about their captain, and in truth, they are just as scared. Logically, everyone knows that there is very little in this world that is even remotely a match for the man called “the strongest fire soldier”, but his absence is unsettling regardless.

“Hika, Hina, it’s time to go to bed.” Konro does not move from his spot. Neither do the twins. If he is being honest, Konro appreciates their company, but as their guardian of sorts, he feels obligated to be responsible. But the girls say nothing, and frankly Konro does not have the energy to push the subject. He grips his wrists tighter under his kimono. His burned shoulders ache from the strain of his tension, but he cannot bring himself to mind it.

Thankfully, the object of their concern appears in their field of view, a lone streak of flames growing rapidly larger, pushing the idea of sleep out of the trio’s minds.

They stand up straight, relief letting them breathe freely at last.

That is, until they get a closer look at Benimaru.

He grips the matoi gingerly, his right arm hanging loosely at its side. His face and robe are caked in dust and ash, with red-stained patches on his chest. The face that typically wears an apathetic expression is screwed up in what they can only assume is immense physical pain. Most distressing of all is the blood streaming down his neck, painting his shoulders a deep crimson.

The girls instantly shoot towards him, and twin balls of flame appear beside the larger streak, one going to support each side. As the girl on his right attempts to approach him however, she immediately backs off upon further examining the damage. Konro grimaces. The arm must look really bad.

Despite the commotion, they soon land in front of the guardhouse, and Konro rushes forward to help them. His stomach is in knots, and he pushes back the swirl of emotions that threaten to paralyse him. Now is not the time, not when Beni needs him to be strong.

“Beni-.” Konro is interrupted by Benimaru slumping forward, legs unable to support his weight. Immediately, Konro picks him up, one arm beneath his knees, the other under his back. Mindful of the clearly broken arm as well as the array of injuries, they walk towards the house, and upstairs into Konro’s room, as it is the most supplied for such an emergency.

“Hika, Hina, please go and get Suzume immediately. Tell them it’s Waka.” Suzume is a local medic who frequently treated injured members of Company 7. She is a strict older lady who has known Beni since he was a child. The girls depart, leaving Konro to his thoughts, alongside an unconscious Benimaru.

Beni needs you. The thought gives a small thrill, but is instantly quashed by a wave of self-loathing. He does not deserve to be happy, not now.

He places the injured man on the futon that was already prepared. Fear leaves him frozen, unsure of what to do next. Beni, oh gods, Beni. What if - no. Konro refuses to go there.

Konro is not a doctor, but at this moment he wishes he is.

Konro is not strong, but at this moment he needs to be. For Waka. For Beni.

He knows he has to move, start somewhere, do something, or else it might kill him. So he faces the man lying on the futon, red staining the white sheet, and begins to strip away the clothes that are concealing the extent of his injuries. He grabs clean towels, warm water, and disinfectant, and begins cleaning the injuries on his chest and stomach. When he goes to remove the sleeve on Benimaru’s right side, the young captain’s face tightens in his unconscious state.

Konro curses at himself for causing Benimaru more pain. He removes the sleeve the rest of the way and stares at the dislocated shoulder. At the wrist that rests at an unnatural angle. At the arms covered in cuts and cruises. At the cleaned torso, bruised almost beyond recognition.

A grunt.

“You’re crying.”

Konro starts. He had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the captain waking up. Stupid. How dare he turn his attention away from Benimaru. How dare he focus on his own feelings when Beni is in pain.

Konro touches his own face and feels the wetness there. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he turns his attention back to his captain’s injuries, doing what he can before the medic arrives. He again finds himself wishing that he wasn't so weak, so useless.

He shakes his head to remove those thoughts from his mind. He has no right to self pity.

A cold hand weakly grips his wrist, and Konro pauses.

“Konro.”

Konro resumes his cleaning of the wounds on Benimaru’s arm, gentle, ever so mindful of the shoulder. He can’t bring himself to look him in the eye, not after he failed to protect his captain.

“Konro,” Benimaru croaks again, firmer this time, “ ‘m fine, don’t worry ‘bout me.”

The young man can barely form words. Here he is, barely awake but despite his pain, he is trying to comfort Konro. The lieutenant’s stomach clenches painfully at the notion. He finally turns and looks at the younger man. Completely at odds with the words he just spoke, Benimaru’s eyes contain a myriad of emotions: pain, concern, but above all, panic. And that is the worst of all. It is not a look that should be on Waka’s face. It makes Konro want to hold him close, and take him far away from here, where he would never suffer again.

Konro reaches out, pushing Benimaru’s black hair from his forehead, attempting to comfort the younger man without words. Mindful of the gash on the back of Benimaru’s head, Konro runs his fingers through the damp strands, gently combing the hair with his fingers, desperate for that fear to be quashed, desperate to protect the captain in any way he could.

“I’m here, Beni.”

The captain looks so small on the tatami mats, breath coming in painful bursts, blood still oozing from the wounds on his chest. He holds Konro’s gaze until he can’t anymore, going unconscious again from the pain. It is a startling contrast from the strong, awe-inducing man who carries the weight of Asakusa on his shoulders so naturally.

At that moment, a commotion is heard from the hall. The twins have returned, with the medic in tow. The girls pull the woman by her wrists, dragging her roughly along in their haste to return to Waka’s side.

“Hurry up, you’re too slow you hag!” The twins speak in unison. Their words are cruel, but Suzume does not fault them for it, all too accustomed to the girls’ behaviour.

Konro stands and picks the girls up so they are out of the way.

“Let us see Waka! Put us down, stupid Konro!” the girls explode angrily. But they do not leave his arms, as worried about Benimaru as Konro is. He ignores them, speaking instead to the medic.

“We will leave him in your care. If there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.” He hears how his voice breaks, but he chooses to ignore it for now.

“Of course, Kon-san. You have already done plenty, thank you for cleaning his wounds. I can take care of it from here.” She smiles and turns towards the injured man. Konro takes that as his cue to leave, carrying the girls out of the room and into theirs.

For the first time, Konro prays to any gods willing to listen.

***

“Konro, stay with us, please!” The girls have been tucked in, but it was obvious they are not going to sleep for a while, too upset.

Konro is hesitant, wrapped in thoughts of returning to Benimaru’s side. But the usage of the word ‘please’ holds his attention, largely because he has almost never heard the girls say it before. Maybe he needs to teach them better manners going forward. Maybe he is stalling.

With a gentle sigh and a kind smile, he sits down between their futons. Not that they need two separate ones, because they always end up sharing by morning. Be nice to them, they’re just as scared as you are. Furthermore, he is the lieutenant, and when Waka is gone, he must step up.

“I’ll tell you a story, will that help you relax?” His voice breaks the silence that has befallen the guardhouse.

“Yes!!! Tell us about when you hazed Waka!” Hika giggles.

“Tell us, tell us!” Hina pipes up.

Konro smiles in the way that only the young girls can bring out of him. “I’ve told you a thousand times already, haven’t I?” But he begins anyway.

***

The so-called proto-nationalist hazing that Benimaru had later inflicted on Shinra and Arthur of Company 8 was something Konro had once forced the younger man (at the time, a boy) to undergo as a punishment. The boy had recently begun to act up in training and was being a little shit, so Konro and the other hikeshi enacted a plan to teach the brat a lesson.

They had told him it was time for him to undergo a traditional hazing to signify his transition into manhood. It was a load of shit, but they figured the angsty young master was too far up his own ass to realise that they had made the whole thing up. They were right.

“Konro? Hello? What the fuck am I doing?!” Benimaru was currently tied to a spit and was suspended sideways over a fire, face up. His clothes were burning away, slowly revealing his backside. Not that Konro had noticed.

“Uh,” Konro stalled, trying to recall their made-up explanation, “It's uh, an old proto-nationalist hazing.” Yeah that sounds good. A simple punishment is all it was, really. And it was hilarious. Benimaru, the kid with a strength that easily surpasses most grown men, was tied up in the middle of Asakusa, roasting over the fire.

Surprisingly, Beni had gone along with being tied up without much fight, more annoyance and confusion as opposed to actual anger. Not quite the reaction Konro was going for, but he wasn’t going to read into it too much.

“Konro, it's hot. Can you untie me please?” The boy had whined.

“No Waka, you must learn to overcome your physical discomforts. This is an essential part of your training.” Konro had to actively fight the urge to burst out laughing. He bit his tongue and tried to look detached.

“This is ridiculous. What’s the fucking point. This is stupid.” Beni continued to complain.

“You’ll learn the point, kid.” A hikeshi spoke up. “We all went through this, suck it up.” Konro was grateful. He didn’t think he could speak more without laughing. A crowd was gathering, Asakusa’s inhabitants curious as to why the young master was tied like a roasted pig in the public space. Benimaru turned red. Trained warrior or no, being stared at by elderly women with his ass hanging out (because at this point his clothes had all but burned away) was a rather embarrassing scenario.

There are very few things that could be less mortifying for a teenage boy.

***

Hika and Hina giggle at the image. Konro cannot suppress his smile at the memory, the disgruntled look on Benimaru’s face is one he will never forget.

The girls yawn in sync. “Konro keep going.” Hina is impatient. “Yeah, hurry up!!” Like clockwork, Hika trills after her sister.

“Yes, yes. Let’s continue.” The knowledge that Benimaru is lying just down the hall is not forgotten, but Konro has to be there for the twins.

***

“Now what?” Benimaru had dropped his initial discontented expression and had settled for a scowl. He was starting to get rather irate. Konro knew this, but he was having too much fun to stop.

The young master was once again suspended above a fire, except this time he wore only a fundoshi, and his arms and feet were spread apart. The embarrassment had not gone away, he was a teenage boy after all. Konro thought it was too funny to stop, even if the furious younger man stood a chance against him in a fight.

Another hikeshi lit a fire at Benimaru’s feet, the flames instantly shooting upwards.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT OH MY FUCKING GOD YOU BASTARD IM GOING TO KILL YOU-” Beni launched a verbal tirade with increasingly creative language. Konro actually laughed, he couldn’t help it. That only served to piss off the young man more. “KONRO I SWEAR TO ANY GOD ABOVE THAT I WILL CUT OFF YOUR HANDS AND MAKE YOU EA-'' Beni was cut off by a gag appearing around his mouth. Fire of course. Konro’s quick thinking.

This continued until the older man figured it was time to move on to the next punishment.

***

The twins had fallen asleep holding each other close. Their breath is in sync. How they manage that Konro will never know. He stands slowly, careful not to wake them, but he knows he need not worry - they are exhausted. He is too, but now is not the time for sleep, not when Benimaru needs him.

Konro hesitates before opening the door to his bedroom. The dread he has been setting aside for the twins threatens to spill out and make an emotional wreck of him. That cannot happen. Not right now. He needs to push past his own weakness for the young master.

Pulling aside the door, he sees Suzume packing her bag. He cannot bring himself to look at the futon, not yet.

“He’ll live.” Her voice is quiet, calm. “The cuts are mostly superficial but there is still significant bruising on his chest and arms. None of it is life-threatening but he will be in a great deal of pain for the next two weeks at least.” The lieutenant almost has to sit down, relief flooding every fibre of his being.

“That being said,” she continues, “The wrist is broken and his shoulder has been dislocated. He is right handed, correct?” Konro nods. “Then he will require assistance until he becomes accustomed to using his left hand. He also has a mild concussion, but the cut on his head is not as deep as it looks.”

“How long until he is healed?”

She hesitates, unable to meet his eyes. The medic senses the lieutenant’s nervousness. Poor Kon-san. “The concussion should heal in about ten days, assuming he makes the effort to get better fully. At least six weeks for the wrist. More or less the same for the shoulder, but I will discuss all the details with you when he wakes, which might not be for a long time. I gave him some painkillers…” She continues, tactfully ignoring Konro’s obvious inner turmoil.

Benimaru will be unable to train for at least a month. He will not be allowed to fight for Asakusa. Beni’s necessity to the town aside, Konro is more worried about the emotional toll it would take on the captain, who lives and breathes to serve their district. The thought of Beni forced to sit aside and watch made his heart clench painfully.

“...and with that, I suggest you go to sleep, Kon-san. You’ve had a long night, and I will see you in the morning.” The medic withdraws quickly, leaving the two men alone.

Konro realises he needs to go to Benimaru’s side. Because really, that’s where he belongs. It’s where he always wants to be.

He kneels next to the sleeping captain, who is almost swallowed up by the robes Suzume had dressed him in. They are Konro’s, and they are much too large. The word ‘cute’ flashes through the lieutenant's mind at the image. He must be tired, he thinks, because he doubts anyone in their right state of mind would describe the young captain in such a way.

Reaching out his hand, Konro runs his hand through the hair sticking to Benimaru’s forehead, pushing the strands back. The hand lingers longer than Konro had intended it to.

The captain stirs, murmuring in his sleep. “K’nro…wha’s for d’ner…” before becoming silent again. Konro smiles gently, the tears he has been holding back finally free falling. He allows himself to just feel for a minute. The distress about Beni’s emotional state upon learning he has to put aside his own training for so long. The worry he had felt in the hours leading up to seeing Beni, only for it to come crashing down once he found out the damage done to his captain. But worst of all is the anguish. Because for a brief moment, he thought he was going to lose him. And that causes him more grief than anything else.

How pitiful.

After all Benimaru has been through, the worst emotions stem from Konro’s own fear. From his own weakness. Because if he was strong, he could have protected Benimaru. How pathetic.

Konro continues to let these negative feelings wash over him, until his captain stirs once again. This time, the younger man opens his eyes fully. They were glazed, but he appears to see Konro sitting beside him.

Immediately, Konro moves closer, hands hovering, wanting to touch him but not knowing how. Benimaru spares him the struggle by taking the larger hand in his, gripping it firmer than one would have expected given his condition.

“Stay?”

“Always.”

[chewiedon]

REGRET | TSUGIKUNI M.

the rq didn't go exactly how it was written, but I had no idea what they were supposed to talk about, taxes?

REQUEST: Y/N has been married to Michikatsu Tsugikuni for 5 years and has lived a happy life with her 2 children and husband. One day, her husband decides to leave all 3 of them behind to join the Demon Slayers, he deeply loved Y/N however his jealousy was far stronger, and thus 2 years pass. On a cold night Y/N sits at the top a cliff near her home, with her oldest child dead due to a monster that attacked their old home at night. She wonders how her husband is doing and amidst her thinking a demon approaches ready to attack. Michikatsu kills it and reveals that he had gone back just 2 months after to discover the house reeking of blood and both his wife and offspring missing, and that he had been searching for them. He offers Y/N his haori/kimono (??) in fear that she will grow cold and they just talk.

You and your family didn’t have much money, but you were happy nonetheless. Your husband was a hard worker that took care of his and yours child, everything was perfect. Another child was due in a few short months, and both you and your eldest were ecstatic. In your point of view, but there was a growing concern in your stomach that continued to plague you the growing days. Your husband, Michikatsu’s brows seemed more furrowed lately, and his training has been frighteningly more intense. At first you didn’t mind, you were glad he was improving on the things he was passionate about! Things only seemed to go downhill from there, to the point where he’d pass out for hours on end from exhausting himself too much.

The afternoon was surprisingly quiet, your toddler sat behind you while you folded clothes. You couldn’t help but eye your husband that laid on a futon that was in the other room. He ended up passing out again after training under the hot summer sun. Before you realized it, you were staring at his unconscious state. A gaze with increasing concern.

“Okaa-chan!” A squeaky voice interrupted your focus, “I’m hungry! Let’s have lunch soon!” The child that sat behind you tugged on the fabric of the kimono.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Yuki. I’ll get some lunch going for us then, what would you like to eat?” You smiled sweetly to the child, before quickly setting the sheet that was in your hands down onto the ground.

“Rice balls! Rice balls! Rice balls!” Yuki cheered behind you, dancing as she did so.

“Shhh, you don’t want to wake Otou-san do you? Let’s let him rest,” You reminded her with a sweet tone, your smile only grew as she put her hands over her mouth.

Soon, the afternoon had come to an end and the day had gotten darker that was accompanied by an evening chill. Yuki was munching on some leftover rice crackers that she had found, enjoying the evening before it got too cold on the engawa. Heavy but quiet footsteps were heard, turning around you were met with the intense eyes of your husband.

“Michikatsu, I’m glad you’re up now. I’ll get started on dinner soon,” You said, looking up to him with a gentle smile present on your face.

He gave you a small hum of agreement before watching you scurry off into the home, leaving him alone with Yuki. Unbeknownst to you, he had a massive burden on his shoulders that was eating at him. With a soft sigh, he took a look at his daughter who stared back at him with wide eyes.

“Yuki-chan, it’s time to come inside,” Michikatsu requested, his voice monotone and dull.

The girl let out a small hum before standing and dusting off her purple kimono, then heading inside, her father following behind the girl. You could be seen starting a fire on the clay furnace that was in the kitchen. The kitchen was hardly that though, it was a small room filled with wood and sticks and a furnace. You were spaced out while looking at the straw and wood that was burning, waiting for the water set above it to start boiling.

“(Y/N)?” A rough voice took your heads out of the clouds, turning your head to look over your shoulder meeting your husbands’ intense eyes once more. “Can I talk to you?” He added.

You let out a small hum, he squatted down to your height where you were crouched close to the floor. He grabbed your face, his fingers around your jawline which forced you to look at his face. You let out a small yelp of surprise when he yanked your face closer to his, the tips of your noses mere millimeters from touching.

“I have to talk to you, it’s important.” Michikatsu said, his voice strict and filled with reason. You couldn’t do anything but clench your jaw in anticipation.

Putting your hand around his wrist to support your weight, “What is it, is something wrong?”

“No, I’m going to leave soon. Final selection is going to start the day after tomorrow. I need to surpass my brother and join the Demon Slayer Corps.” His voice wasn’t as monotone, but took a more serious approach.

You let out a small hum, your brows furrowed in frustration. “So… You’re going to leave?” It was more of a rhetorical question, because you already knew the answer.

“Yes,” His voice and expression were unwavering as he stared deep into your eyes.

“Tomorrow?” You whispered with caution, you couldn’t deny the frustration that was bubbling inside your stomach.

He nodded, and you hummed back. His grip on your jaw loosened allowing you to move and continue with what you were doing before, your husband was leaving. You didn’t want to try and stop him, you respected his wishes to leave and the last thing you wanted to do was hold him back. But… What about you? You had Yuki to take care of and you lived about an hours’ walk away from the closest village. Not to mention you were 3 months expecting another one of Michikatsu’s children. The extra workload seemed stressful, but you should be able to adjust smoothly. Demon slayers make good money if you can do it right, but money shouldn’t come at the risk of your husband's life. Not that he was doing this for money, he was doing it so he could surpass his brother, you decided to respect his wishes. You kept quiet and served him and Yuki dinner, and Michikatsu told the petite girl while she chewed on her wooden spoon.

“Eh? Go away? Where? How long?” Her eyebrow creased, tears swelling in her eyes. Yuki then started to sniffle and rubbed her eyes before her father could answer her, “I don’t want you to leave! It’s no fair!” She claimed.

“I don’t know how long it will be, but I promise to visit when I can. This is really important to me, Yuki.” He paused and waited until Yuki looked at him, “I need you to take care of your mom for me? Can I count on you?”

“Yeah… Yeah,” She was still a sobbing mess, all you could do was smile at the two.

But, why now? Why not a week prior so he could help prepare for you and your daughter instead of just leaving you high and dry. You knew as his wife it was your duty to support him, but you couldn’t help but feel a little negative.

And you had every right to.

How long ago was that? One, maybe two years ago?

You depended on Michikatsu to protect you if something like this were to happen, even though he had no way of doing so. How would he know this would happen? It’s not his fault… So why when your life flashed before your eyes you held on to your vision of Michikatsu.

There was blood, so much blood. You woke up to the blood curdling scream of your eldest daughter, a demon had sunk its teeth into her neck. You shook, and you ran. You grabbed your youngest who cried in fear from the fresh blood of his sister that was on your face.

“Hah? You think you’re going somewhere?!” It sneered at you, dropping Yuki’s lifeless body on the floor as if she was some kind of dog toy. You had your son tucked into your chest and ran as fast as your legs could manage, this unknown adrenaline kicking into your body. It only lasted so long, tripping over a larger rock and falling on your side. You felt a searing tear of the flesh in your leg, the burning sensation of the skin being ripped open. You screamed, hoping some Godsend creature would come and rescue you. Another rush of adrenaline had kicked in as you kicked the monster away with all your might, and the chase had begun once again. You forced your legs to move, you subsided all pain and resisted the urge to limp. Tears made way to your face as you had begun to cry out of fear that this demon would end up taking you and your sons’ life away. Running through the woods, no shoes or socks, you prayed. You prayed for your husband to come back before you died, you’d do anything to see his intense eyes again.

Michikatsu, why did he have to leave? No, it’s not his fault because he didn’t want to live his life in a small shack that stunk of breastmilk. He wanted to live his life. You can respect that, but not now. Your lungs began to become sore, and every part of your body felt like it was on fire. How long have you been running? Is the demon still behind you? You knew if you slowed down or stopped running you probably wouldn’t be able to start running again, you were finally out of the woods and into a big clearing. Long grass that was up to your hips bathed your figure. Your legs went from a sprint to a walk, then crashing onto the floor. Your child’s cries rang in your ears as you tried to soothe it between heavy breaths, you laid on the ground with him in your arms trying to muffle his cries with your chest. You couldn’t hear anything but the now muffled and softer cries of the child, and your own heavy breaths. Your lungs were still on fire, and your body fell completely limp. Your eyelids were beyond heavy, the stinging in your leg pulsing with more pain by the second. Your entire being was numbed from the exhaustion.

Everything was hopeless at this point, you were going to die here from blood loss or that demon is going to come and kill you both. You couldn’t go and get help, and your son was way too young to do anything like that safely.

“(Y/N)?! (Y/N)!” At this point you refused to believe your ears, you lifted your head above the grass to see a tall figure yelling out your name.

Hope swelled in your chest, as you began to recognize that tone more and more. He came. He came back. Michikatsu came back!

“Michi-” You weren’t able to speak or move as a pulse of pain spread throughout your entire body.

“(Y/N), (Y/N)! Where are you?” You raised your hand, it shook in the air as your husband ran to your limp body.

The first thing he did was hold your face to his, touching his cheeks to yours making sure you were real. He held you tightly, but not enough to hurt you.

“Is he okay? Where’s Yuki?” He lifted his head as if to look around you for the small girl.

Grief swelled in your chest, “Gone, the demon got her… I’m so sorry.” Was all you could manage to say, warm tears made their way freely down your cheeks. You whispered bitter apologies over and over to him.

He hummed, stroking the side of your face, “It’s okay, you’re alright and that’s all we need,”

He wrapped his haori around your shoulders once he noticed your shaking. Burying the remains of your eldest daughter was hard, but the hardest part was cleaning out her room where her blood stained the wooden floors. Michikatsu stayed and soothed you the entire time you were crying as you scrubbed her liquids out of the wood. He didn’t know what to do except pat your back and tell you it was going to be okay.

And that’s all you really needed.

[blissfulalchemist]

‘ why are you bleeding? ’ for cat/santi <3

Ash oh lovely Ash. This turned out a tad longer than intended. Lo siento (derogatory). But here's these two idiots being kind of soft.

No warnings. Just a little under 3.5k

It’s not a long walk up the stairs to Santi’s place, even with the take out in hand, so it isn’t long by the time Cat knocks on his door. Her brow furrows when there’s no immediate answer like normal and she glances down at her phone, “Huh,” Did I get something messed up?. The time is correct and the message clearly states to be coming by tonight and the text announcing her arrival is sent through. She frowns knocking again louder, Maybe he just fell asleep. Whatever work John had been giving him recently took up a lot of time, leaving little time for the two of them to see one another. It had to have also been pretty important as Santi even blew off a night out just a few days ago, so she assumed bringing the fun to him would help make life a little easier.

She readies herself to knock once more when the door opens before her. Santi stands before her, hair still drenched, the steam from his shower following with the scent of his body wash, dressed in a pair of sweats that look like they’d been put on in a haste along with a plain black t-shirt. His eyes go wide briefly taking her in, but an easy demeanor she’s grown accustomed to seeing on him returning to every part of his face except his eyes. He pushes back the wet strands of hair that have fallen on his face, “Well, well. What brings you here, gatito?”

She smiles, giving a small tilt to her head, bringing the bag a little higher, “You said it was fine to come over, bring you some dinner.”

He smirks, “I thought we planned on that being tomorrow,” he leans on the door frame, a small wince comes free that he hides while talking, “Not that I’m not happy to see you.”

“Oh,” she bites her lower lip, eyes cast down, “I asked for tonight and you said yes, so I just-.”

Santi pulls out his phone, quickly scrolling through the messages, “You did. Sorry. I must have just read it wrong.” He glances back into the apartment, his breath hitching for a moment. 

Cat gives a slow nod, “Well if it's a bad time now, I can just uhm. I can just come back tomorrow.”

“No, no,” he reaches out to take her hand, “It’s never a bad time to have you around.” She can feel the heat rise in her cheeks when he takes a step closer, fingertips brushing gently along her jaw. He leans down until his lips are just brushing hers, “Especially now, seeing as you brought my favorite meal.” Santi smiles, quickly taking the bag from her hand as he spins back inside the apartment, Cat rolls her eyes following behind him.

“I swear that seems to be the only reason you keep me around,” she tosses her coat on the couch, eyeing the duffel bag filled with clothes tossed on it.

“Gatito, there are plenty of other reasons to keep you around,” he laughs, setting up the table before picking her up by her waist. She gives a small scream at the sudden movement, laughing when he places her onto the counter, foreheads pressed together. “Who else am I going to find that fits so perfectly right here,” he whispers, his arms encircling her, lips meeting hers gently, “Hm. Or someone that, much to my protest still I might add, can still find ways of making my high maintenance ways just a little more affordable?”

Cat smiles, stomach flipping as he kisses her, feeling Santi’s hands move up and down her body. She wraps her arms around his neck, pressing herself against his body, small moans escaping her as his hands move under the fabric of her dress, leaving trails of tingling heat on her bare skin. “You know I’m sure you could find someone better,” she says feeling his lips move down her neck, sending shivers throughout her body.

“Don’t think so,” he pushes the straps of her dress down revealing the edges of a lace bra. Santi’s hands find their way back under the skirt of her dress, running up her thighs, “Is it a matching set tonight?” He purrs in her ear, teeth grazing just below her jaw, Cat letting out a shaky breath. Her legs spread easily, Santi resting them on his hips to keep them that way while his fingers trace the edges of the lace hipsters. He smirks, kissing her deeply, teeth pulling on her lower lip when he finally pulls away, “Got all dressed up just for me, did you?” Cat lets out a sharp gasp the moment he makes contact with her core over the lace, “Must have missed me quite a bit.”

“I don’t think you should be skipping right to the end,” she breathes out, “It’ll diminish the thrill of anticipation.” 

“Then why are you encouraging it, gatito,” he chuckles, feeling Cat’s hands slide under his shirt. “Come on,” he urges, “We have all night and even tomorrow.”

“John finally letting you off your leash?” She asks, her hope obvious as she slides his shirt up, kissing along his chest.

“For now,” Santi pulls back, stripping himself of the shirt and tossing it away. He kisses down her jaw slowly, “So that means,” Cat’s breathing deepens as he moves down her neck, sliding the zipper of her dress, “all of my attention can be,” her arms wrap around him, keeping him close, “on you,” Santi kisses the crook of her neck, Cat releasing a breathy moan, “and me.” He starts to kiss down her chest, her fingers brushing along his skin, until they pass over the same section of something wet along his shoulder blades. 

It can’t be shower water, it wouldn’t localize itself, She frowns, inspecting her fingers, finding them stained red. A gasp catches in her throat as her panic rises, heart pounding in chest as she tries to get a better look at Santi, his movements making it impossible. “Santi,” she chokes out though he doesn’t give much pause. Her unstained hand works to garner his attention, “Santi stop! Stop!” Her eyes go wide as all she can focus on is the few small drops that travel down to her palm. She’s had nightmares like this before, but this wasn’t one, right? Couldn’t be, She’s real, he’s real. 

Finally she can feel her hand in just the right place giving one shove with all her strength. She shuts her eyes a moment, slowing her breathing down, nails digging into her thigh. Real, it’s all real. Not a dream, real. One more moment, she just needs one more moment before she can open her eyes. “Santi, why-,” her voice shakes, throat drying up, “Why are you bleeding?” 

Santi’s attempting to look over his shoulder by the time she opens her eyes, his face the same and intact. His brows knit together as his hand reaches over, the tips coming back red, cursing under his breath. Cat can see another cut glaring red on his arm with how he moves. Her mouth falls open jumping down from the counter, moving closer to inspect him. He smiles, moving to keep the cuts from her view, “It’s nothing, amante.”

“It’s not nothing,” she argues, forcing his back to her, “You’re bleeding.” Cat stands on her tiptoes, gently prodding the wound, “And it looks like it might not stop for a while.”

He moves to face her once again, “It will. Just leave it be. I’m fine.” Santi takes hold of her hands when she won’t stop moving and her eyes get larger, “Trust me. I’m fine.” He runs a hand down her cheek to hold her chin, “No need to get all fussy about it,” he assures in a low voice.

“No need-,” she pulls her hands from his grip taking a step back, “Santi, you’re hurt and bleeding. That warrants me fussing and worrying, especially since you’re trying to tell me you’re fine. When clearly,” she gestures a hand up and down her body.

Santi steps forward, hands cupping her face once more, voice softer, “Because I am, Cat.” He places a soft kiss on her forehead, Cat’s jaw setting. His eyes looked over her face before landing on the table behind them, “Maybe you’re right. We should eat first.” 

He walks away from her picking up the shirt he was wearing earlier, “No.” Cat gives a small stomp of her foot, hands balled into fists, Santi arching a brow. She crosses her arms, “I’m not going to put up with your manly I’m invincible bullshit today when it is so very clear that you are hurt. I’m not just going to put that to the side and play along with you like all the other times, especially since this is something I can actually help you with.”

“Gatito I’m-.”

“Stop that!” She pauses, taking a deep breath, holding her hand up to stop him from speaking, “Look, you and I both know that I’m going to worry about it no matter what. So the choice becomes whether you let me fuss and worry for five minutes while I help you or three hours wherein that’s the maximum amount of time that I will allow myself to be here until I give up for the night.” 

Santi smirks, “There’s a lot we can do in three hours, cariña.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” she grumbles in response. His smirk falls growing silent as he looks over the table folding his arms. Cat watches him for any sort of reaction, when none comes she rolls her lips, twisting the tips of her fingers. Eventually her shoulders fall and she lets out a sigh, running a hand through her dark waves, “Santi,” she says softly, “I- I don’t-.” Cat lets out a small groan at her fumbling, “I’m sorry. That- It all came out harsher than I intended.” She walks to him slowly, adjusting the straps of her dress to keep it on, “I just- Its just-,” she gives a shake of her head reaching out slowly, fingers hesitating in making contact, “I care about you, Santi.” She lets her hand slide down his arm, lacing their fingers together, “I care about you a lot and, well, that makes me prone to worrying. I just don’t want to see you hurt if I can help it.” She kisses his shoulder before bringing the top of his hand to her lips, searching his stoic expression for any change.

Finally Santi nods, his smile returning, “Alright, fine. Let me get the first aid kit.” He gives her hand one more squeeze pulling away towards the bathroom.

Cat blinks in disbelief, “That’s it? Just like that?”

He gives a shrug, “Sure. Maybe if you see it up close, you’ll know I’m right, cariña.”

Cat exhales, rolling her eyes, “What is with you and being right all the time?”

“Part of my charm,” he laughs, “And someone has to be in this relationship.”

Cat turns away waving off the comment once his back is turned, “I’m gonna get the couch ready okay?” There’s no response as she grabs a dark towel laying it to hang where Santi will sit on the couch in case he decides to lean on his bad arm, This is why you shouldn’t buy such light colored fancy couches if they aren’t going to be easy to clean, Santiago. She picks up the duffel bag, almost dropping it quickly from the weight of it, I deserved that. She tries once more managing to almost toss it to the chair next to the sofa, her eyes catching the gleam of something metal within it. She adjusts the straps of the dress once more glancing over her shoulder before moving some of the clothes to the side to take a closer look. 

The initial gleam had come from a handgun with a knife about as long as her forearm right next to it. There’s a hard plastic case just below them that she can’t attempt to open right this second hearing Santi making his way back towards her. She quickly shuffles the clothes back over the items, adjusting the straps of her dress, huffing when they don’t stay in place. Not like it was gonna stay on for that long anyway, She let the dress fall to the ground turning to catch Santi’s playful smile, holding up a clear plastic case with a red cross painted on the front of it and a bowl of water.

“Alright, gatito-,” his words stop taking in her state of undress, “Didn’t realize Nurse Cat needed a change in clothing.”

She crosses an arm over her body, feeling her face flushing, “Can you please not?”

He bites his lip, looking her over once more before he hands off the kit and water to her with a bow, “Alright, let’s get this over with so we can go back to our night.” He flops down on the couch, Cat crossing her legs as she gets into a good position behind him. “I think you need to get closer,” he teases, leaning his head back to try and look at her.

She rolls her eyes, lightly pushing his head back into place. She’s at just the right height to be at eye level with the wound, allowing her to gently wipe the blood away gauging its depth with ease. A sigh of relief leaves her lips as she establishes that it just misses the mark of needing stitches. “At least we don’t have to ruin your back with a scar,” she mumbles searching through the kit, “Well a very noticeable one at least.”

“See I told you it was nothing,” he says smugly, once again leaning back.

She gives a small eye roll, smiling when she finds the superglue, “Well it needs a little more than just a bandaid so we’re both right.”

She pushes him back into place, “What else does it need, gatito, if not stitches?”

“Superglue.”

He grimaces letting out a low growl, “That shit stings like hell and leaves a worse mark in my experience. Would rather have the stitches.”

She gives a light laugh, “You have exposed nerves technically, so everything is gonna sting.” Cat lines up some tape on his back that will help hold it together, “But if you’re getting worse scars then someone doesn’t know what they’re doing.” He shifts beneath her, Cat pulling back the bottle, “Or the patient is moving too much.” 

She waits until he stays in place before leaning in to start closing the wound together, “I doubt that it’ll look less worse than stitches,” his eyes watch her in the reflection of the tv, “even with your gentle touch, cariña.”

“Trust me. I know all the tricks to make them near invisible,” she laughs softly, a frown crossing her features as she goes back to concentrating.

Santi cocks a brow, “Plenty of practice I assume.”

“Something like that,” she mumbles, keeping all her focus on the task at hand.

“How did you learn to do it,” Santi asks with genuine curiosity.

Cat bites her lip, eyes narrowing as she thinks for a moment, “I had to be first aid certified at my old job.”

“I don’t think they teach you how to do this in those classes.”

Cat looks beyond him before nodding her head, “True, but not everyone wanted to go straight to the doctors so they came to me on occasion. Helped them keep their occasional bad days a secret.”

“You never talk about where you used to work.”

“You never really ask,” she gives a light laugh, Santi smiling at the sound of it. “Do you want to know? Or are you trying to make small talk?”

He gives a half shrug, “¿Por qué no los dos?”

She exhales slowly, “I worked the floor of an inpatient facility. I was a counselor officially, but really I was just someone there to help make sure none of the patients bothered the other workers or management. Got more patients if they were all on good behavior.” Cat grimaces, “I didn’t like that too much, especially since their view of what was ‘good’ behavior was just short of seen not heard.  Somehow, I guess by some miracle, I managed to stay under the radar of management to do things my way a little when I worked.”

“I bet the people staying there liked that,” he says with a smile, “Having someone kind among the workers.” He meets her gaze in the reflection, “I know I would.”

She looks away with a small smile, “Maybe,” she sets the glue down pulling out a bandage, “Many just wanted someone to listen to them….empathise with them. Be treated like they weren’t quote-unquote crazy.” Her fingers slow as they push along the edges of the bandage, eyes defocusing to the world around her, “And, well, I knew exactly where a lot of them were coming from which you could say made it easier.” Cat stayed quiet a moment longer, clearing her throat as she shifted patting his back lightly, “Alright time for your arm now.” She turns it over glancing up at Santi through her lashes, “Looks almost like a defensive wound. Well at least what they show on tv.” He doesn’t say anything as she gets to work on it, “Do you want to tell me how you got injuries like this, Santi-amante?”

“Would it make you worry about me more?” Cat shrugs, Santi chuckling, “Just my usual antics, gatito. There’s a Mary May in every city it seems.”

“John makes you travel?” She asks, Santi giving a hum in response, “Is that why that duffel bag is out?” Cat points to the bag on the chair, “He had you out of state?”

“Yep,” he nods, “Though I don’t think he’d like me taking you with me if that’s what you’re thinking, cariña.”

She chuckles, “I was not. Though it’s nice to know that you dream of taking me,” she smiles, as he playfully waves away the comment. Cat’s mind wanders back to the weapons in his bag, curious as to their purpose. She shuffles through the various possible outcomes of how to ask him, opting to keep to the outskirts of what she really wants to know, “Do you-. Do you like working for him?” She keeps her voice steady, casual, “You like what you do for him?”

“I don’t really like doing work to begin with,” he laughs, “I’m sure you didn’t really like working at your old job too much either.”

She raises a brow, “I loved my old job actually.” His eyes go wide a moment as she gives a quick shrug, “I mean it was far from perfect. Management could have been better and some days the employees and residents got on my nerves, but in the grand scheme of things I was doing what I always wanted to do.”

“Which was?”

“Helping people.” Cat smiles triumphantly, “I always forget how much easier this is to do on others than on yourself,” her musing allowing the words to leave before she can stop them. She clears her throat, grabbing the wrap, eyes cast down.

“You got some past I don’t know about, gatito,” he teases, “Thought we were being honest.”

Cat gives a snort smirking, “Says the one that changed the subject from himself to me just a minute ago.”

“Thought you wouldn’t notice.” He thinks a moment, watching as she wraps his arm gently, “Guess it doesn’t matter if I like it or not, it's easy and something that comes….well, naturally. Feels almost ideal for someone like me.”

Cat finishes the wrapping, holding his hand in hers holding his gaze, “Would you ever do something different if you could?”

His smile falls as he ponders, staring down at his hand in hers. “I don’t know,” he finally answers, his thumb running over her knuckles, “I’ve never really known anything else.” Santi leans down kissing her lips with a smile, the seriousness vanishing in an instant, “Are you officially done with fussing now?” He kisses her again, “Can we go back to dinner?”

Cat smiles, rolling her eyes, “Yes. I’m officially done fussing now. Now was that so hard?”

“Very,” Santi says lowly, moving the kit onto the coffee table, cupping her cheek as he brings her in for a deep kiss that leaves Cat’s head spinning. He lies her down on the sofa placing himself between her hips, kissing up her jaw. “Now don’t you worry,” he purrs, a hand sliding up her thigh and hip, “I’ll take it nice and easy,” he assures, kissing down her body between each word, licking his lips when she arches her back to press herself closer, “Just for you, amante.”

[seijohsfairy]

𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝚃 𝙰𝙻𝙻

Being addicted to the wrong people is one thing. Being addicted to you is a whole other ballpark.

tw incest, very brief somno (? not really but just to be sure), little angsty thank you to my babies @/bakatenshii​ and @/writeiolite​ for the support ♡

+

For seven months he had fasted, starved in place of the gluttonous monotony of living life like he had been up to that point; swallowed uselessly around nothing but air. And then you had jumped into his arms at the airport like you’d missed him more than life itself and with the first breath of your familiar smell of your face buried into the crook of his neck, his addiction had been as present as ever. If not more.

He’d driven you both home in the old, banged up car that he’d given you as a parting gift, and listened to your soft voice in the darkness of the road. Not daring to turn to you fully, should the vindictive truth stuck to the roof of his mouth scare you away.

It’s not like he doesn’t know that it’s wrong. Hajime has always been good at knowing what’s wrong and what’s right, the thoughts about you falling without doubt in the former. He knows, he knows, he knows and yet; as he looks down on your face, pressed so close to his drumming heart where he carries you inside, allowing the guilt to chew him up and spit him out discarded, it doesn’t feel like it did when he was half a world away. It doesn’t feel dim, like grabby hands at his brain. More feverish than reason, ripping through his soul like a wet piece of paper.

With nails and teeth and ripping it’s ugly way to the surface like it had at every teenage pool party he had to fish your drenched, exhausted body to the side and you’d smile at him like he’d hung the moon and all of her companions high in the black abyss. Like he had when you’d fall asleep on his shoulder, mumbling in your sleep for him. Marked with streaks of warm, gushing sin like the blood that pumps through his arteries and colors his skin. You curl into a small ball when he puts you down on the unoccupied side of his bed, one that’s been abandoned and unused for months.

You let out a small whine. As much as he wishes to resist, habit comes faster than his brain can catch up and he’s already kneeling next to you, brushing your hair away from your face. You look so peaceful, undisturbed by the loud crunching of his brain where he sits. When he’s sure you’re not having a bad dream, he lets out a sigh. His face drops forward to allow it rest against your temple, nose pushed up against it in a futile attempt to calm his raging heart. He can’t look at you that long in the darkness, not when he’s so deprived it might split him in two and spill out at the seams.

But he presses a kiss to your hair, because in every way you have a hold over him. You still smell like the same shampoo, the same perfume. With your breathing calm and soft, he peels himself back enough to stare at your face again. Lashes dark, resembling flowers reaching for the sun. Lips dropped slightly open. The thoughts like a pack of wild dogs, unwilling to let go of him. Because it is written in big, bold letters as law that you are his, and he belongs to you irrevocably. Scared to chip or break you any further with his dirtied hands and worse ideas, he gets up from the floor to strip of the clothing of the long journey.

He should sleep on the couch, he knows, but desire is a terrible thing and he can’t think of being anywhere but near you now that he can finally hold you again. As much as he wishes it, he was never sober of you. In a shirt and his boxers, he slips into the free side of the bed, dipping it under his weight. Even in your sleep you seem to sense this, sense him, because you move back until the hard lines of his chest are against you. Your smaller form still fits as perfectly as it did when you much younger. With a shaky sigh, he allows himself to encase you in his arms, only this much and he convinces himself he’ll be sated. A prayer, a plea of forgiveness should any gods feel like hearing it now.

His body is slotted against you, around you. But you’re not contented with this closeness, never have been and it’s the thing Hajime always dreaded most about you when he started growing into his shape. The absolute love with which you touch him, take him, have him as yours entirely. Unknowing just how much he wants you. He feels like a disgusting, deprived creature when the touch of you makes his breathing hitch. “Niichan,” you whisper for him, and he responds by pressing his face into the exposed part of your neck. Yes, he knows it is as wrong as it is to long for you like a lovesick fool. But the darkness of what’s wrong will never take precedence over the brightness that you cary. The devotion you have for him even in your sleep.

Fuck. He shuffles his hips away from you a bit, ignoring your disgruntled twitch to place his hand on your hip and ground you in place. “Shh,” he breathes to you, scared to raise the volume any higher should you wake. “Niichan is here. I’m here.” You wouldn’t hate him if you were to wake up, that’s what’s worst of all. You’ve always been most protective over your big brother, standing up for him despite never hearing him say the words aloud. He didn’t need it, towering over your tiny, nimble shape before he even reached middle school and never differing since, but you had stuck through it nevertheless.

Your big brother first, all others vying for your attention second. He’s selfish when it comes to you. But no, this is too much for him. You wiggle in his grasp like you’re desperate to connect at every point of your bodies and even though he prays that you’ll settle down, you don’t. You’re unrelenting, and at this point he’s afraid you’ll wake yourself up. So he gives in with a noise, a sigh or a soft moan, slotting his body along the entire length of yours closer, too close. The hand on your hip releases its grip to slide a little lower, stuttering when it glides over the warm expanse of your thigh.

Feather-light touches enough to make his brain short circuit. His body feverish. He almost passed out when you’d wrapped your legs around him in the hug at the airport, skirt riding up way too high for comfort. He thinks of that now, the little noise of approvement you had made when his hands came to support your butt, trying to steady his grip. His hand freezes instantly when you whimper, turning over. “Missed you, Haji—nii,” you push your lips together into the cutest pout, rolling until your face is in his chest, and you drape your leg to rest in between his ones. Hajime stays frozen for what feels like eternity, attempting to think of anything worth distracting him from the rise of your chest as it pushes up against him, but it’s a useless endeavor.

He swallows, having to stay exactly in place not to fall off the side of the bed. Your beaming, gentle body pressed to the hard ridges of his, breath on his throat and thigh pressed in between his legs. The urge to shove you away from him, to hide far from his shame, guilt, longing trickles down his veins like hot tar. So this is what torture feels like. His body doesn’t have anywhere to escape. It’s glued to your hips, your arms reaching up to cling to his shirt. As foolish as he knows it to be, there’s no fiber in his body that wants to be away from you. So he does what Hajime does best, and deflects to draw attention elsewhere.

Your big brother rests his lips on your face, peppering all the kisses that have piled up for months onto your face, your nose, cheeks, forehead. He picks up your hand and presses kisses to your fingertips, your palm, the inside of your wrist. For a moment he wonders that if he were to listen, your heartbeat might just be failing like his is. But that thought is gone when you shuffle, wiggling closer and pressing your leg higher in the process. He stops breathing. No, this is too much. He won’t survive tonight. “Hey, wake up,” he softly shakes your hand in his larger one, putting on his best big brother voice. It can’t be very convincing, but your eyes have yet to open so it’s a forgivable offense. Hajime knows he’s pink in the face, but there’s no other way to avoid death. Not when it comes to you.

“Can’t sleep ‘cause of m’fucked up timezones,” he explains, “but if you’re clinging to me like this, I can’t go.” He’s not even sure if you understand him, eyes still fluttering, thick with sleep. He smiles, unable to help it. Ever so gently, he starts prying his shirt out of your death grip. You shift towards his body at the disturbing motion, and it takes all of his willpower to ignore your leg as it presses up more against him again. You’re not doing it on purpose. You’re not. But his head is swirling with the pressure, so scared that if you get any closer at all you’ll finally know how fucked up he is. That can’t happen, it can’t—

“Don’t leave me,” you say. It’s a hollow and fearful sound. He freezes. Hand on yours and long legs tangled with your smaller body and his face so close to yours that it’s impossible not to see how soft your lips look, how much they look like they’re made for him. He swears at himself thinking that for what feels like hours. But this isn’t about him anymore, not when you open your eyes and wetness clings to your lashes. Even in the complete darkness, you’re still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Please don’t leave me again, Hajime nii.” You’re panicked, knuckles turning white from the strain. His heart breaks a little more at the sight.

He lifts a hand to brush his knuckles over your cheek, with the complete tenderness of touching something made of sand. Like you could crumble into nothing should he be too rough, too harsh, too— him. He knows he wasn’t fair to you when he left, barely saying goodbye for longer than a second and willing himself to ignore the absolute dread in his stomach, but he didn’t expect it to be like this. Like he was the sole reason for your suffering. “I’m so s-”

“I know you had to go,” you cut him off, pouting at the ceiling, “I know you had to, and I’m really proud of you.” You’re crying now, you can’t help it. His absolute mortification of being this close to you mixes with his urge to protect you, and he sits up to tug you into his arms despite knowing better. “I just don’t want you to forget about me,” you sniffle, hiding your face into his neck. Your lips are at his collarbones, pressing a gentle kiss there. His resolve crumbles with the second.

But in this he can’t be lenient. He’ll never allow you to think you’d fade from him. “Oi,” he says, wincing at the overly familiar tone. Doesn’t matter, really. He is familiar. He is family. That’s exactly why this closeness shouldn’t drive him crazy, yet it’s exactly the reason he diagnoses himself with insanity. “I am never, ever, going to forget you. You’re my everything, I know I don’t say it enough. I will never be able to think of anyone more than I think of you, every day.” He pulls his hands through your hair softly, hating the way you’re looking at him even now. With a reverence that should be reserved to no one man.

He hates how much he longs for you to stay right here. In his lap, brushing up against him in your cute panties and your flimsy shirt that leaves little to the imagination. He looks away from you, to glance at the covered window instead. “I don’t like saying it out loud because that is like speaking it into reality,” he confesses. You’re quiet, tears dried by just the sound of his voice. He’s quiet too.

But then you move, and at once he’s struck by lightning from heaven itself. His eyes still fluttering, struggling to understand. You’re kissing him, like you used to do when you wanted to comfort him before he got to middle school and he told you off for that exact thing. It’s not long, but so much longer than he would’ve asked for, it sets him alight. His brain frenzied, he feels you pull back. Hajime presses forward though, toppling into you like the broken thing he is and he grabs your face between his two palms to kiss you, really kiss you. You make a noise, opening your mouth when he pushes his entire body into you, shaking with how hard it aches. More, more, he kisses like he’s chasing life itself. Your lips are so soft, sweet against his and building him to a high. And you moan out something he can’t make out, sounding so small and sacred and he hates having tainted you with his filth.

It sends him away from you, his mouth ripped from yours to breathe. Heaving over on top of you, hands either side on his knees like the begging monster he is, he waits. Eyes shut so tightly it burns. He can’t bring himself to see the hatred on your face too, he already has too much of it himself. So he waits, for something to save his soul before it’s eaten away entirely by guilt.

Your hands come to cup his face. Of course that something is you. He always underestimated your goodness growing up, he probably still does now. But he still shakes his head in those soft palms, too fearful and too pained. You smile, he can hear it in your voice. “I love you, Hajime nii. Even if you say nothing at all.” You move under him to wrap your arms around his body, tugging him towards the bed. He could resist if he wanted to, he knows he could. He gives in to you each time though, always. And he allows you to press kisses on his lips until he finally cracks open his eyes to linger them where your heart is. He’s doused, drenched in shame and self-doubt, glancing for a sign from you.

But you smile. You rest your hand on the back of his head and smile at him and God— he swears his heart swells with love until it chokes him. “I know you love me. You have for a long time,” you say. You’re petting at his chest, hand pressed between your two bodies as you gaze at him, star-eyed. “And I’ve loved you for even longer.” You lift your head to press your lips over his ear. “It’s going to be okay, I’m never going anywhere. I love you, oniichan. I love you so much.”

“I can’t,” he mumbles, frowning so deep it might stay. “It’s wrong.” All the strength has long left his muscles. Even before he arrived at the airport today, he’d run himself ragged trying to save you. But in the low light of the room, pressed so close, you seem happy to belong to him. “I don’t want to be the thing that ruins you,” he is able to bring out, but it’s lost when you roll your body against his, clinging, asking.

“Please, niichan. I don’t want you to run away from me anymore.” You kiss him, and the whine in your throat is a plea. “I can’t pretend again, please don’t make me do it again.” Your face hovers so near him that it makes his head spin, your warmth and the last of your perfume digging into his weakened state.

He’s begging for the world to save him as much as you’re begging for him to drag you into the abyss. And after spending his entire lifetime with you, he should have known. You’d always have a power over him that no one else did. He kisses you. Tastes you, devours you, never letting go. He shoves your shirt up and over your head, littering you in all the built up love he’s spent too long collecting. The brunet presses his lips and wet tongue to the plush of your chest, groaning at the sheen it leaves behind on your skin. But he’s back to your lips soon enough, unable to get his fill. Maybe that’s his punishment for leaving you behind, he thinks, that he’ll never be entirely saturated of you.

Not that he won’t try. Hajime licks at the inside of your mouth and sucks on your tongue, moaning into you like you’re saving him of a world of pain. And you cling to him, so close. Your legs wrap around him to keep him right in place atop you. He rolls his hips into your doughy center, mouthing at your neck, your collarbones. He hovers his lips next to your head, his chest flush with yours. You can feel his heart as it bangs viciously against the bone cage. “You’re beautiful.” He grinds his hips into you with a pant. And then he lifts himself up onto his elbows so he can look at you with the most loving gaze you’ve ever seen flicker in his bright eyes, pressing two fingers at the seam of your mouth.

You open your lips for him and encase the digits with your tongue, sucking softly as he growls your name. He remembers the night that had scared him half a world away like it was only a few hours ago. You’d had too much alcohol, and he’d had too much frustrations running through his blood to control himself when Shittykawa had dropped you off, saying something about ‘taking better care of you than your big brother did’. It had snapped the last of his strings, and he’d never been so mad at you. Because deep down he feared more than anything being left behind in your shadow.

You had forgiven him so quickly, like always. You did when he had his first kiss with a girl from his class, someone he played spin the bottle with. You did when he brushed off your concerns about his health regarding his volleyball, saying he knew himself best. You did when he kissed you after you’d first told him about your fears of going to university and that you felt alone and confused without him. You did when he left, too. Now he watches in fascination as you suckle at his fingers, dragging them out to wet your lips, your chest, down your body and into your panties. He’ll make it up to you. He will.

As a small drop of sweat rolls down his chest, you call out for the person you love most, in a million words how you express it best. Loud, vibrant, colorful. And Hajime…

He loves you, always. Even saying nothing at all.

///

//

/

Listen, big brother hajime has been living in my brain rent free for the last month and I just had to write smt gentle for him before going back to my degenerate bullshit so,, I was feeling pretty emo when i was writing this and it shows ((: but I still hope you enjoyed it!! thank you so much for reading!

[wornoutmouse]

Ojiro x Black reader

Sub/Dom dynamics.

Spanking and I don't mean like "haha you have big ass me likey oogaabooga" I'm talking "count for me"

But it's still really sweet ya'know? Ojiro best boi

I've tried so many times but "dick" never looks good on paper. But i want to find another word cause cock is giving me very much 🏈 fratboy🏈

"Oji~ you know that I love you?" A digitally inhanced sigh fills the room, "Yes"

It was a Saturday and you were currently waiting for your boyfriend to come home for your birthday. So what do you do to pass the time? Call him every hour of the day of course. 

"Y/N, can I please just do my job, I promise I will only focus on you when I get back." You pouted as you twirled your freshly finished twist outs, "I mean I could do that."

You could hear Ojiro hold his breath on the other side of the line, making your smirk widen, "But I won't cause I love you so much baby!" 

You knew you were wrong for doing this, you just found so much joy at his expense. From elsewhere in the house, the doorbell rang drawing your attention. "Fine, Mashiro I'm going to call you back later okay baby?" A wheeze came through the phone, "Yes babe, I love you bye!" 

You giggle at the thought of his relieved face as you tiptoe to the front door. "Is this for me?!" You sing out to no one in particular as you pick up an unmarked bag of plastic. Bringing it inside your mouth, you tear it open with your teeth, and begin to feel giddy once you see what's inside.

A while ago, you had ordered some yellow lingerie to match Oijiro's hair, and after helplessly scouring the internet, you finally found one in a good shade, nice design, and reasonable price. 

(Nah y'all know how hard it was to find a black girl in yellow lingeire? I don't understand it's not like i looked up a specific skin tone, I kept getting white people 😭 i barely found this one and what pissed me off was that i had given up and searched "black girl in white lingeire" to match Oijiro's hero costume and finally i got a cute yellow one like wtf?!)

Edit: THE DAMN LINGERIE NEVER LOADED HERE

You go to your room and try it on and after struggling with adjusting the thigh straps to your massive thighs, you were able to stand in front of your full length mirror to take pictures. "Oo look at me!" You dance a little in front of the mirror, shaking your hips.

You stop for a moment as a devious smile comes into your face. You grab your phone and set it up to take pictures. After a mini photo shoot that distracted you for about 30 minutes, you decided to send 2 of them to your ever so loving boyfriend.

You wait a few moments and gasp as you see the word seen pop up. You do a leap around the house giggling with anxiety from his reaction. 

When you got back to your bed you huff at his lack of reply. "He couldn't even give me the tease of a text bubble?!" 

That ruined your mood as you grabbed your house coat and stomped around the house cleaning up and watching TV. You don't call him after that, "He doesn't deserve my presence." 

In reality, you were in your feelings for honestly nothing. You knew he was working but it still would have been nice to get a reaction. 

*Thump*

You jump and damn near take the entire kitchen with your a you look around the seemingly empty house, "What the hell?!"

*Thump*

The sound was coming from your balcony. You peek around the doorway and your eyes go wide. "Oijiro what are your doing here?" You move to open the glass doors but stop as you make eye contact with your man.

His beautiful face was adorned with features of a rabid animal. He pressed his phone against the glass door and you gulped as you saw your picture, full screen. "Yeah, I think I'm going to let you simmer out there for a while.

*Thump*

That was the sound of Oijiro's heavy tail hitting the ground. You knew that movement, it was similar to a bunny temper tantrum but deadlier. "Open the door y/n." 

A shiver runs throughout your body at the sound of his voice. It was deep and unwavering as he blankly stared at you through the panels. Feeling down right terrified, you turn around on your heel and go on your merry way. 'y'all hear something cause I sure don't'

Click

You stop in your tracks as you hear  movement behind you.

 'he got in didn't he'

'why did I give him the key?'

You try to inconspicuously shuffle away before a hand finds its way around your neck and the soft pad of a thumb on your tongue. "That wasn't very nice of you, to leave me out there." You giggle uncomfortably as Ojiro places gentle kisses along the expanse of your neck. 

"I just thought, you needed some fresh air." The hand tightens and you can't help but grab onto his wrist in that moment. "I don't like it when you're a smart alec Y/N." In the distance, you heard the sound of his tail thumping again, shaking nearby decorations and furniture.

Grabbing your hands, Oijiro walls you to your shared bedroom and locks the door. You sit on the bed and twiddle your fingers as Ojiro stood in front of you glaring. "Does this mean you didn't like my photo or?"

Oijiro's steely eyes meet yours and you flinch, "Oh I loved it. I loved it so much that I popped a glorious erection during a meeting in front of all my peers." Oijiro's trail thumps against the floor, making you jump. "Do you know how hard it is to hide a boner when your hero costume is a robe, princess?"

Princess, that word meant business, and business meant no sitting down properly for a week. 'this birthday gonna be lit.' is all you thought as you lazily cross your legs. "I don't know, I'd assume it would be easier than spandex?"

Ojiro smirks as he drags your body to the head of the bed, holding down your hands securely. Getting on the bed Oijiro grips your chin in his hand before kissing your mouth gently. "Happy Birthday."

He sits back and recklessly opens your robe and down right moans at the sight of you. "When did you buy this?" You look away, embarrassed, "It was for your birthday but it didn't come in time." Oijiro nodded as he pulled on a thigh strap before releasing it with a loud snap.

"You look beautiful in it." For a while, Oijiro spends his time caressing you. Starting from your breasts which he sucked on generously, and your stomach that he peppered with kisses. All while avoiding your erogenous zones and making you needier.

"Ojiro!" You moaned as he scraped his teeth below your naval. Ojiro watched you with trained eyes as his hands follow your plush thighs, squeezing them every so often.

"Sending that picture wasn't very nice of you." Ojiro mumbled as he grazed over the one place you needed him to touch. "Please, touch me." 

Oijiro props himself up pulling you with him. His hands follow your waist and stop at your butt, squeezing at the mounds as he continues to kiss your skin. "I don't think you've learned your lesson Y/n." You nodded quickly and whined, "I did learn my lesson, promise!" You try to entice him by grinding against him, but you quickly realize that was the wrong thing to do as his face grows serious.

"This is a fine example of what I mean, you're impatient." Not liking that answer, you pout and cross your arms, "This is stupid it's my birthday." Oijiro flicks your nose, "Watch your attitude. You incoherently mumble again clearly defiant. "Lay over my lap."

Minutes before you could protest, he's already tugging you, face down, over his lap and delivering a smack. "Ow!" "I want you to count for me, lose place and we start over. Don't count and I'll make this longer. Do you remember your safe word?" You nod your head slowly and jump as your ass blazes with heat from another smack "1. Thank you sir."

You hate to admit it but it had been a while since you pushed Ojiro this far punishment wise so it wasn't surprising that you were shaking by 5, crying by 7, Ojiro was hard by 9, and you were extremely wet by 12. "You're taking your punishment so we'll." You gripped the sheets tightly into your hands and crossed your legs as you revived another slap, "T-Twenty, thank you s-sir."

You expected to revive more but was pleasantly surprised when you were coaxed off of Oijiro's lap and pulled in between his legs. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily for someone that hasn't been spanked. "Are you okay dear?" You sniff as Ojiro takes your hands and places kisses on your knuckles.

You run your legs together and look down at him with pleading eyes. "What's wrong baby? Haven't I taken care of you enough today?" Ojiro mocked, but you personally couldn't find anything funny. You drop to your knees and rub his legs before shortly trailing your fingers over his crotch.

Ojiro does nothing but watch, as you gently tug on the fabric of his hero costume. "Oji it's my birthday." Ojiro shrugged, "You're right it is your birthday. Don't you think you're old enough to make your own decisions?" You smirk at that and quickly pull his cock out of hiding.

You internally drooled at the sight of him. Oijiro's size was conservitively average with only girth going for him, but something about that turned you on more than if he was larger. He watches you, mouth parted as you give kitten licks to the tip of his cock, tasting the pre-cum that had accumulated.

Gingerly, he places his hand on the back of your head, urging you to continue. You smirk up at him and bat your eyelashes slowly as you trail your tongue from the base to the tip, where you bow your head, to swallow him whole.

"Shit." Ojiro pushes you all the way down and tosses his head back as he feels you constrict around him. You raise a hand to fondle his sensitive..balls😑. Causing him to jerk his hips making the tip hit the back of your throat.

As you busy yourself, you couldn't help but grind on his thick tail that rested below you. "S-Shit Y/N you're going to get your juices all over me!" You hum in response as you continue to buck your hips against the large mass of muscle.

Ojiro pulls your hair to stop you from sucking as he kisses your lips with a sigh. "You have to stop now or I won't last any longer." You chuckle as you stand to your full height and watch as Ojiro kisses your belly with closed eyes. "Wow, who knew a little bit of fabric would turn you into a 1 pump chump?!" 

Ojiro glares up at you as he smacks your ass, making you whine as it reignites the soreness from before. 

Pulling you onto the bed, Ojiro stands up, holding his tail to his face as he licks up your release. "You got me all messy." Pulling off the rest of his clothing, Ojiro climbs behind you, and he gently dips a finger into your warm cavern. "Are you ready?" He asks as he pushes your head down and pulls your waist closer to him.

He watches as your holes noticeably clench at his voice. "Please, Oji." 

The thickness was something you never got used to and though patient with foreplay, Ojiro always had a hard time holding back even if he puts only his tip in.  Arousal drips down your entrance slowly and he uses that to aid the rest of him inside. "So pretty for me." Ojiro takes hold of your underwear straps and uses that to push his way in.

Your mouth opens in a silent yell as you feel your insides constrict around him. "Relax baby, I can't move." You breath shakily and Ojiro gently waits for you to relax by rubbing sharp circles into your twitching clit. 

You angle your hips back and fuck yourself into his cock once you were ready. He guides you and drinks in all your whimpers as you attempt to go faster. "Does that feel good baby? Is my dick making you shake?" Your reply is a series of breathy 'yes's' as Ojiro picks up speed.

"Fuck you're so warm and soft!" Ojiro grabs your squishy hips as he pivots out of your weeping hole. You graon into the sheets as he leans over you. "You're creaming around me you know?" You bury your face in embarrassment as Ojiro intertwines his fingers with yours. 

You feel the pit in your stomach grow tighter as you get closer to your orgasm. "I'm coming, fuck I'm cumming." You were so close but Ojiro stops in his tracks and holds you down.

"Why'd you stop?" You ask turning your head around to look back at your smirking boyfriend. He raises both hands and slams them down on your thighs as he yanks your back, halfway off the bed. Your legs dangle off the side as the rest of you stays and I'm all honesty this was an awkward position due to your long legs.

Oijiro's trail thumps behind you and you can hear it hitting various objects as it swishes around the room. "Why are you so excited?" You ask trying your best to hold on to the thin trails off your orgasm as your heart rate slowed. "I'm just thinking about if you really deserve to cum."

You throw your head up immediately and stomp your fists. "It's my birthday can't you do this some other time?!" Ojiro pushes your face into the bed, knocking the wind out of you as he sets a brutal pace. "See that attitude right there is what I'm talking about." He shakes his head as he pounds your ass repeatedly.

You're quickly bright closer to your orgasm as the lack of oxygen goes to your brain. When he does let you up, you are coming with a loud groan as he pulls out, ruining your orgasm.

"Ojiro what the hell!" You yell, still twitching from the shocks. Ojiro looks at you shrugging as he jerks himself to completion. "You said make you cum." 

You groan stomping into the bathroom ignoring Oijiro's laughter from behind.

[blancheludis]

@whumptober2021 Day 5: Misunderstandings

Fandom: DCU, Batman, Superman Characters: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne Tags: Misunderstandings, Unhealthy Relationship, Miscommunication, Open Ending Words: 4.404

Summary: “I bought the bank,” Bruce says, his face unreadable as ever, but he looks like he is waiting for something.

Clark stands with his parents’ farm in his back, the farm that now belongs to Bruce, and he understands, loud and clear. I bought you.

So, with his mother’s home and well-being on the line, he has little choice but to follow when Bruce beckons.

---

“I bought the bank,” Bruce says, his hands hidden in his trouser pockets, completely casual.

His face is unreadable as ever but Clark knows that face by now, knows that Bruce never does anything without reason.

So, what Clark hears, loud and unmistakeably, is, I bought you.

He swallows, his mouth dry, searching for the right thing to say but coming up empty. The distance between them stretches, growing larger with every passing, silent second.

Then Bruce frowns, causing ice to spread inside Clark’s chest. Bruce bought him. That means he is not just holding Clark’s life in his hands but also that of his mother. He understands that the farm is safe for now, the house will remain standing – now the ball is in Clark’s corner to keep it that way.

“Thank you,” Clark says, far too late, but he somehow manages to sound calm, not as brittle as he feels, blindsided by this sudden change of his fate.

The frown vanishes from Bruce’s face but that only makes the icy grip around Clark’s insides tighten. He had not thought Bruce capable of this, trying to control him and demanding him to be happy about it, too.

“You didn’t have to,” Clark adds cautiously. Bruce could have just asked if he wanted Clark, did not have to go to the trouble of holding his home and family hostage.

“Nonsense,” Bruce says, dismissing in a way that seems to come so easily to him. It has Clark gritting his teeth, even while he keeps his face friendly – a very thin façade.

Here they are, regularly saving the world together, but they are apparently still not equals. Clark pointedly does not look at the house behind him, at the fading colours and the cracks in the porch, at the corner where the roof threatens to give in during the next storm. He did not grow up with money to spare but they were never poor, not in any way that matters. There was always warmth to be found in their house, always love.

Rather uncharitably, Clark thinks that is where they differ. Not because Clark is an alien with super strength and super speed, while Bruce is human. No, Clark is rich in terms of love. He knows where he comes from and where he belongs. Bruce, on the other hand, is lost, building relentlessly to hide the fact that there is no ground to build on.

“I’d invite you in,” Clark says, although he really, really would not. Whatever game Bruce is playing, he will not do it in front of his mother. “But I should tell my mom first.”

Bruce straightens even while his brow creases again just a bit, enough to make Clark wonder what the price for disappointing Bruce will be. Whether they will lose the house immediately or if he will dismantle Clark’s life in a different way first.

“I’ll come to the Manor once I’m done,” Clark offers quickly and takes a step towards Bruce, hoping he is not placating him too obviously. Bruce likes subtlety, after all.

They have known each other for a while now, fought next to each other, and yet he has no idea how to please Bruce, what is expected of him here.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Bruce says, still as unreadable, but he looks slightly less tense.

Clark smiles. It is a real thing if borne of relief instead of happiness. He is glad to take this to the Manor. It is already such an empty place, grief permeating its shadows. Clark will not feel bad about adding his own to it.

“Give my best to your mother,” Bruce says as he is already turning away, off-handed like there is nothing to it, just a social nicety.

Clark’s smile freezes. He stares at Bruce’s back. Later, he will think that he should not have been surprised. Batman is built to be a threat, his every move and word meant to subdue and intimidate. But Bruce is subtler than that, underhanded. Hiding his threats beneath well-wishes that, under any other circumstances would have been innocuous, is right up Bruce’s alley, although it hits Clark like a sucker punch.

He hears the warning loud and clear. I bought you and I expect you to fall in line. Or else.

Clark loves his home but he loves his mother more. “I will,” he says and means it. There is no other choice anyway.

---

Clark thinks briefly about contacting Diana. Perhaps she would have some insight into what Bruce expects. Although, if he is honest with himself, Clark knows. He noticed Bruce’s stares, slowly morphing from distrust to respect to something he thought was welcoming but might have been simple want instead.

He could have asked. Ignoring their bumpy beginnings, Clark liked working with Bruce. They could have built something. But perhaps that is not what Bruce is interested in. He likes control, that much is clear, and maybe he sensed that Clark does not want to be on the receiving end of that. That could be the game and Bruce will tire of it quickly. Somehow, Clark knows that will not be the case.

He is stalling. After talking to his mother, he went to his old room, her relief leaving a bittersweet aftertaste. There is so much to do, but he guesses Bruce’s patience will run out if Clark starts retiling the roof instead of doing as he is told.

No, he decides, he cannot tell Diana. She does not do subtle and Clark cannot afford force. He will give himself half an hour and then he will do what must be done. That is what heroes do, after all, even if he has never felt less like one.

Later, Alfred opens the door for him, smiling with a warmth that Clark does not understand. “Mr. Kent, what a pleasure to see you here.”

Clark nods in greeting, tries to pull up his lips and fails miserably. “I guess Bruce is waiting for me?”

He is and he is not, looking surprised when Clark enters his office. “I didn’t expect you so soon.” Clark was not exactly given a schedule, but he prefers to be early rather than late. “Come, we need to go over some things.”

Privately, Clark expects rules on how this new life of his will run. Instead, it is business as usual, talking about the League. He barely hears a word Bruce is saying but makes sure to nod in the appropriate places.

He stays for dinner – Bruce does not say he can leave – and while he knows that Alfred is an excellent cook, everything tastes like ash.

 ---

The first time they kiss, Bruce holds him like he is afraid Clark will disintegrate in his arms. Only when Clark pushes forward, acting eager to drown out the churning of his stomach, does the tension bleed out of Bruce’s muscles. If things were different, Clark could even enjoy this. He had thought about it, even, about Bruce. But either Bruce never looked at him the same way or he just likes to make sure his lovers cannot leave on their own terms.

All the following times, Bruce kisses like a drowning man, desperate for the air in Clark’s lungs even knowing that it is poisoned. 

None of it makes sense. Clark is here to stay until he is dismissed. He will not refuse any of Bruce’s whims. And yet it feels as if it is Bruce who is waiting for the second shoe to drop, as if Clark will one day decide his mother’s home and well-being are not important for him anymore and leave.

It does not give Clark a sense of power. Instead, he just wonders when their time is finally running out, afraid of what the fallout will be.

 ---

“Where were you all our lives?” Jason asks one night when they are waiting for Bruce so they can eat dinner. “B is like a new person since you decided to give his sorry ass a chance.”

Clark did no such thing, but that is better kept between him and Bruce, so he shrugs. “Waiting for the right opportunity, I guess.” Bruce certainly did, and Clark did not have much choice but to follow.

He does not have much contact with Bruce’s family, but they treat him like he is one of them. Somehow, Clark thinks, this would be easier if they did not, if at least someone would acknowledge that he is nothing but a stranger, one of Bruce’s few indulgences, just one wrong step away from being dropped and put outside with the trash.

“Well, I wouldn’t have minded having you around when I was still living here.” Jason’s grin looks real, not even a hint of sharpness beneath it, although nobody in this family could ever be described as soft. “Much fewer shouting matches.”

You should have bought your father a whore much sooner, Clark thinks but immediately scolds himself for it. Neither the children nor Alfred seem to know the reason for this arrangement. And Bruce treats him kindly, almost as if this were real.

And Clark does not only come here to warm Bruce’s bed. If he did not know any better, he would even say that Bruce values his company.

“Although your taste is questionable,” Jason continues, apparently not bothered by Clark’s silence. “You could do much better.”

And that is the thing, because in the situation he is in, Clark cannot do anything but acquiesce. He is getting a better version of Bruce than he expected, making it not hard to play along. But this, right here, is the best Clark can do while his mother’s fate is lying in Bruce’s hands.

“He’s your father,” Clark chides quietly, because what else is there to do?

Also, if he ignores the way it happened, he has little to complain about. Bruce is polite and giving and constantly concerned with Clark’s well-being. He does not think it is a façade. Not beyond the obvious.  

But if it is not a façade and it is not real either, he has no idea what else it could be. Clark hates being lost. It makes him feel like he is in freefall and, for once, unable to fly. He is not naïve enough to think somebody would catch him either.  

 ---

Clark expects kinks and pain and being uncomfortable the entire time, but Bruce is a generous lover. He never asks Clark to stay and yet always seems to be so glad when he does, almost like Clark is doing him a favour instead of not making a fuss about his duties.

None of it makes sense. Less so with every passing day.

Even with a handful of adopted children, Bruce is still regularly crowned most eligible bachelor. People are throwing themselves at him left and right. Some of them must be in it for more than just Bruce’s looks or money. There must even be someone who already knows about Batman. Someone who does not have to be coerced.

With a bit more time, Clark thinks he could have been that. Sometimes, when he lies awake in Bruce’s arms, warm and safe and satisfied, he resents that he was not given that time.

 ---

“Why don’t you invite your friend over to dinner?” his mother asks.

The roof has finally been retiled and Clark is thinking about repainting the living room. The question rips him out of his musings like someone dunked his head in ice water.

“My friend?” he asks, although he knows exactly who she is talking about.

Bruce is many things. His colleague and co-conspirator and lover. But they have never been given the chance to become friends.

“The one who helped with the farm,” his mother says, frowning at him. She knows exactly that he is stalling, just not why. And Clark will do everything in his power to make sure she never finds out. “I know you felt like we should have managed on our own, but who knows where we’d be without him.”

Without the farm, probably, but that does not necessarily mean they would be worse off.

“Bruce,” Clark says flatly as if he only just remembered the name. As if all of his thoughts do not circle around Bruce all the time these days – as if he does not sometimes think that is not only a bad thing.

“Exactly.” She smiles, honest and grateful and all the things she would not be if he were honest with her. “You never bring him here.”

Clark is sure his world would implode if he did. “He’s busy,” he dismisses, trying for a casual tone and failing. At least his mother might think he is merely nervous about bringing a partner home to meet her. And he is, just for all the wrong reasons. He is terrified of her liking Bruce.  

“Well, you’re seeing each other all the time,” she keeps digging, knowing she always gets what she wants sooner or later. Not this time, though. “Surely it won’t be too hard to invite him sometime.”

“Mom –”

“Clark,” she says in the same tone she used when he smuggled frogs into the house as a boy. “I haven’t properly thanked him yet.”

What is there to thank Bruce for? Clark is paying their debt every day. It might not feel this way most of the time, but he is still acutely aware of the truth.

“I’ll tell him,” Clark lies. “But you shouldn’t get your hopes up. I can barely get him to sit down for dinner when he’s just a few doors down from his office.”

The very idea makes him sick, thinking about Bruce sitting at their dinner table, looking at their family pictures on the walls, sliding neatly into a spot where he does not belong. Bruce is a charmer, he would steal his mother’s affection within moments of coming into the door. And that cannot happen. Clark’s heart is not made to be broken in that way. His mother wants to see him happy, he knows, and it is too much to lie to her about that.

 ---

“Why didn’t you just ask?” Clark does not mean to say that out loud, but he has been thinking it often during quiet hours.

Because whatever this is, Bruce does not seem to want to rule him. He is content with them just being together and yet he lets that executioner’s axe hover over Clark’s neck.

“Ask what?” Bruce blinks at him, growing more awake. They are lying in bed together, worn out and sleepy and Clark has already decided not to go home tonight, which has too little to do with what Bruce is expecting of him and too much with how comfortable he is, here at Bruce’s side.

It would be easy to bow out, feed Bruce something inconsequential. But Clark is tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Why didn’t you just ask me to go out? Why did you have to buy me?” He has never said the word out loud and he stumbles over it.

Confusion burrows Bruce’s brow as he stares. He has gone very, very still. “Buy you?”

Clark clicks his tongue, remembering why they never talked about it. It is too cumbersome to hash out the details. “Me. The bank. Same difference.”

Understanding dawns on Bruce’s face, giving way to something far greater, far darker. Clark does not get a chance to interpret it properly because Bruce all but pushes him away, scrambling out of the bed and to his feet. He is naked but stands in a fighting position like it is second nature to him no matter what he wears.

“I didn’t buy you.” The offence in his tone is undermined by growing confusion. It sounds very believable.

“You went to quite some length to gain control over my life. I’d say that counts as buying.” Before him, Bruce’s expression grows brittle but Clark presses on. This has been weighing on his soul for way too long. “I didn’t expect you to threaten my mother, but I guess that’s all part of the game.” The words taste bitter on his tongue, still tinged with fear of the possible repercussions. “Only, you’re not even doing anything you couldn’t have gotten if you’d just asked.”

No underhanded humiliations. No kinks where superhuman regeneration abilities come in handy. No secret grievances to pay for. It almost felt real, a relationship like any other, if not for the way it started.

“You think I bought you.” Bruce sounds old, his voice is rougher than usual, almost pained. He is leaning away from Clark, even while his feet remain steady on the ground.

Clark frowns. “You did.” As much as he could be bought, chained not by strength but by concern for what he holds dear.

“And then -” Bruce clears his throat when his voice breaks. “You came into my bed because you thought I’d what?”

“Take the farm. Put my mother on the street.” Clark knows this and yet his voice lilts up, turning his words into a question.

Bruce closes his eyes, his face so raw and open as Clark has never seen it before. It looks like he is in pain, sudden and suffocating. A weight sits heavily in Clark’s stomach as he wonders, just maybe, if he got it all wrong.

“I bought the bank,” Bruce says, voice so low that Clark has to strain to hear him. “And then I forgave your mother’s loan the very moment I could. I have nothing in hand to harm you or your family.”

That is not true, a voice in Clark’s head says but even at that moment he knows it is uncharitable. Bruce would not – but –

“You’re not –”

He is cut off as Bruce starts laughing. It is a sharp-edged thing, clawing its way up from some terrible place, fed by self-loathing and doubt. “You thought I was blackmailing you into having a relationship with me? And you just agreed?”

Bruce does not mock him, the incredulity is clearly pointed at himself, drawing blood with a certainty that speaks of life-long practice. And yet, Clark feels offended. He might not be human, but he is not above emotions, above fear.

“What was I supposed to do?” Clark asks, watching as Bruce’s expression falls further, deep lines opening up where Bruce usually hides everything beneath a clear canvas.

“You’re Superman. You’re a reporter,” he says as if the latter somehow weighs more. “You know my identity, so even if you didn’t want to kill me you could have stopped me any time.” He puts out the idea of being killed as if there is nothing to it. “And you’d have been right to ruin my life because all I’ve apparently done is ruin yours.”

This is not how Clark imagined this conversation to go. He expected to be shut down immediately, to be pushed back into silence. But this? “You didn’t ruin –” he tries to say because, if anything, it seems they ruined each other.

“I raped you,” Bruce snaps, effectively cutting through Clark’s line of thoughts. “For months.”

For a long moment, all Clark can do is stare, the words sitting incomprehensible between them. His chest is hollow and yet something in there seems adamant to drag him down.

“No, Bruce. You didn’t,” he then says, his voice rough. “You never hurt me.” There was never any violence between them, no bruises, no humiliation. He never even had to hide a hickey. And yet, Bruce says the word rape with such certainty, such loathing, his judgement already made.

“You didn’t think you could say no. What else do you think that is but rape?” Bruce turns around abruptly, pressing one hand against his mouth. He looks small, like the tension in the air would be enough to smother him.

Clark knows he should say something, clear this up, but he does not know how. He is watching Bruce fall apart in front of him but all he can do is stare.

Then Bruce buries his face in his hands. “I can’t stop being Batman. I’ll do whatever else you want, but I can’t give up that. Gotham needs –” he cuts himself off, shrinks, impossibly, even further into himself. “If you insist, I’ll find someone to take over, but I’ll need some time.  I’ll – you won’t have to see me ever again.”

Something is happening here, way too fast for Clark to follow. Bruce bought him, only – he did not? Because being acquainted with a billionaire apparently means that banks get bought just to help each other out.

He was so sure, though. The expectation for something lingered in Bruce’s eyes that day, and he never protested when Clark gave himself over.

“Bruce.” Clark’s mind is spinning too much to make sense of what is happening, but he cannot watch this, cannot watch Bruce damage himself beyond repair. And for what – an apology? Batman has nothing to do with this. “You forgave the loan?”

That is the easiest thing to reach for. Because Bruce did not rape him, did not harm him at all. That first night, Clark might not have come to him voluntarily, but he came willingly. He knew what he was getting into – or he thought he knew – and he still went. And it never mattered that Clark thought he could not refuse because nothing bad ever happened. A few scheduling conflicts, a few fake smiles when he was not in a good mood. But – it was a misunderstanding? Bruce never set out to control him?

Bruce is still turned away, likely as unable to look at Clark as Clark is to look away. “Of course,” he says, raw and honest.

“It’s not –” Clark breathes, then clarifies, “You don’t have to do anything. I definitely don’t want you to stop being Batman. We – I just misunderstood. But nothing happened.”

Months of uncertainty happened. Months of waiting for the punchline. Months of trying to figure out Bruce’s game only to learn that there has never been one.

“Nothing happened?” Bruce whips his head around. His eyes are wide, filled with some grief that Clark cannot even begin to decipher. “If that’s what you think then I’ll definitely make sure you won’t have to see me again.”

For some reason, that last thing stings more than the realization that all of Clark’s fears have been for nothing.

“I’m not a child, Bruce. Don’t treat me like one,” he snaps, not stopping when Bruce flinches away from him. “I might have thought that I didn’t have a choice, but you never did anything I would have said no to.”

A small voice in the back of Clark’s head asks him whether that matters. He would not have said no, not for anything as long as he thought his mother’s happiness was on the line. He pushes that thought down, unable to fully comprehend it, much less deal with it right now.

“Apart from demanding your presence and presuming your consent? I trapped you in a relationship you didn’t want.” Bruce sneers at himself, then deflates. He looks old, suddenly, hollowed out. “God, you must hate me.”

Does he? Clark wonders, even while he already says, “I don’t, aren’t you listening?” It is a painful dichotomy, this sudden anger and the stubborn incomprehension warring in his mind. “If you had asked me before you bought the bank, I would have gladly gone out with you.”

“But I didn’t ask.”

Clark has no argument for that, and while he still searches for one anyway, a sudden wall builds itself up between them.

Bruce’s composure is shattered but he still visibly draws the pieces together. Neither of them has yet reached for any clothes but he still stands as if in full armour. “You have my deepest apologies, Clark,” he says, too formal, too withdrawn, even if Clark does not doubt his sincerity. He has seen the ruin lying beneath Bruce’s mask, after all. “I know that’s not enough, but I promise you will never have to deal with me again. But, whatever you need from me, now or in the future, you will have it.”

What Clark needs is - “Bruce, stop.”

But Bruce does not listen, of course not. His eyes travel over Clark’s face as if to memorize his features and then he turns around, never looking back as he storms out of the room. Out of Clark’s life.

“Bruce.” No answer.

Clark should follow him. Bruce still has to find clothes and he does not have any super speed to aid in his flight. It would be easy and this conversation is not done. And yet, Clark finds himself remaining right where he is. In Bruce’s bed, naked but for the blanket pooling around his waist.

A misunderstanding, he thinks. Relief blossoms in his stomach but it sits there heavily, not quite releasing him. He cannot let Bruce go, not forever, but his mind is not his own right now. His skin still burns where Bruce kissed him just an hour ago and his muscles ache deeply. Soon there will not be any visible traces of their time together left and – Clark needs that. He needs to be his own person for a while.

Slowly, he gets up and puts on his clothes. He will leave town and visit his mother for a while. The living room still needs to be repainted and he is desperate to do something that makes sense.

Later, once he feels at home in his own skin again, he will go to Bruce. He can imagine the maelstrom of thoughts Bruce must battle right now. Guilt and shame and self-deprecation. Knowing him, he will not get out of this on his own but just do his best to bury it, ignoring the way it eats away at the very foundation of his being. Clark cannot let that happen, not when they have both contributed to their misery. He knows Bruce is a good person, knows he never communicates clearly. And yet he assumed the worst and gave in to it.

The living room, first, Clark thinks as he steps out into the sun, feeling its warmth as he has not done in weeks, even if his legs are not quite steady. And then the rest of their lives.

[nayutai]

5 | Linked

⇢ Pairing Taehyung x OC x Namjoon

⇢ Word Count 5.303

⇢ Warnings foul language and heavy petting

⇢ Summary What is meant to be will be. Not even the strongest of evil can stop destiny.

Two and a half weeks of frantic research later and we are still no closer to finding a way to fix the partially broken bond between Tae and I. Elder Ashlyn believes that whatever Antoinette had managed to do before she’d been interrupted partially degraded the bond between us because the burning in my nerves is still intermittent even though Tae is still comatose. The existence of the second bond with Namjoon only serves to further complicate matters. Elder Ashlyn decides to call upon some of the older members of the Council for their assistance.

The group of witches and warlocks barricade themselves in the downstairs study of the French estate. Apparently, the library collection at this residence is larger than the one back at her other residence so the elder witch had opted to remain in France until she and Jimin could come up with some answers. Namjoon and I definitely aren’t complaining as we spend our days exploring the country side. I always make sure to take as many pictures as I can so I can have something to show Tae when we finally wake him up. In the meantime, I make sure to tell him about all of our adventures, clinging to the hope that somewhere in there he can hear me.

Jimin looks stressed when he emerges from the conference room ahead of everyone else. I’ve been sat on a small couch in the hallway impatiently waiting for nearly three hours and I shoot to my feet when he emerges from the room. His brightly colored hair is jutting out wildly in all directions so he’s probably been incessantly running his hands through it even more than usual.

“Jimin, what’s wrong?” I question. My heart beats wildly in my throat at the way his shoulders sag in defeat. Before he even opens his mouth, I know it won’t be good news.

“We know how to fix your bond with Tae.” His face still looks drawn with stress though. There’s got to be a catch somewhere that he’s not telling me yet.

A door clicks shut somewhere off to my right. The sound is followed closely by Namjoon joining us in the hallway. He takes one look at my face and covers my hand in his larger one. The warmth of his skin seeps into mine, keeping me calm and grounded before I get too far off kilter.

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it? That’s what we wanted.” My voice pitches higher at the end, the fear at what Jimin could say taking over my vocal chords.

He motions towards the couch that I’d been sitting on just minutes ago. His hands find their way back through his hair as he explains everything to us. Apparently, the dark faeries had written a book called the Torquem Contritum, literally meaning Broken Chain. 

“Every spell they faeries ever created to either break or repair soulmate bonds is in that book.” Jimin sounds defeated so I know that there’s something he’s not telling me. Some evil little twist that is holding us hostage at square one despite all of this new information that should catapult us to success. “Unfortunately for us, the book is missing and has been for nearly three centuries. It was stolen by a pack of werewolves centuries ago and no one has seen it since.”

This can’t be happening. Every time it seems that we’re on the verge of a breakthrough something knocks us twelve steps back. My stomach feels like it’s going to fall right out of my ass. Somewhere out there are the answers to all of our problems and we have no way of finding it. Hysterical laughter bursts forth from my lips before I can stop it. This is just perfect.

The search for answers shifts as Jimin and Elder Ashlyn focus their efforts on trying to find the ancient faerie text. The walls of the manor seem to be practically humming with power from the sheer amount of different tracking spells being cast. Even as mere mortals, Namjoon and I can feel the magic in the air. It’s when Jimin sneezes and bubbles fly out of his nostrils that he becomes completely fed up with the lack of results.

“Fuck this.” Jimin shouts as he aggressively shoves away from the kitchen table where he’d been sat eating the stack of waffles I’d made for him. As if sensing that something is wrong, Elder Ashlyn materializes directly behind him. Her eyes are glowing an even brighter blue than normal and they’re narrowed at the back of Jimin’s head.

“You better not be about to do what I think you’re about to do, Park.” To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even flinch at the Elder’s voice suddenly sounding off behind him. If anything, hearing her makes him even more determined to follow through with whatever plan he’s conjured up in his head.

“Well I sure don’t see you coming up with anything better. I don’t see you sneezing bubbles out of your damn nose because your body doesn’t know when to stop doing spells either.” He bites out. His scathing words weren’t directed at me but I flinch at the harsh tone of his voice nonetheless. Elder Ashlyn opens her mouth to respond but Jimin disappears right before our eyes. It happens so fast that I can almost see the void he’d left in the air. Elder Ashlyn pinches the bridge of her nose before she vanishes just as quickly as she’d appeared. Namjoon and I are left staring at each other in stunned silence as we try to figure out the significance of what just happened.

Nearly a week goes by without a single word from Jimin at all. I’ve tried calling, texting, and even emailing but there’s been nothing but radio silence from his end. Elder Ashlyn has stayed mum on the situation for the sake of our “plausible deniability” but that just leaves me even more confused. What would we need to deny? What is going on that could be that bad? Namjoon is just as confused as I am so he’s not exactly helpful beyond emotional consolation. Of course, Taehyung is no help either but he’s a great sounding board for my thoughts.

I’m cuddled up next to Tae’s sleeping form when the sound of the front door slamming shut reaches my ears. It has to be Jimin. It just has to be. Namjoon is asleep in the room next door and Elder Ashlyn has been locked in her study for hours. No one else would have the balls to just waltz through the front door like this other than Jimin.

Sure enough, the familiar warlock is standing in the middle of the foyer toeing off his muddy boots when I reach the entrance. A large sack rests on the floor at his feet. Judging from its shape and the ominous aura it radiates, I can only guess that it must be the infamous book that he and Elder Ashlyn have been searching for. 

“Don’t you ever disappear like that again, you ass.” I mumble into his neck after I quite literally launch myself at him. His arms wrap around me and I feel like I can finally breathe again knowing that he’s back. After everything that we’ve been through together, I consider Jimin to be just as much a part of my family as my own flesh and blood.

“How did you find it?” I ask, motioning towards the bag at Jimin’s feet. He goes on to tell me about how the missing tome was said to have been written in the blood of the dark faeries that authored it. Knowing that, all he needed to do was obtain some dark faerie blood and perform a tracking spell which was easier said than done. To make matters worse he couldn’t cast just any old tracking spell. In order to find dark magic you have to use dark magic. Now I understand why Elder Ashlyn wanted to maintain our “plausible deniability”. The council definitely won’t like this.

“I can’t believe that you really went through with this foolishness.” I startle at the sound of Elder Ashlyn’s voice slicing through the air like a blade. It’s obvious that she’s not happy in the slightest.

“You can yell at me later but I think we’ve got work to do.” Jimin grabs the bag holding the book and offers it to his superior. She hesitates for a second before grabbing it, holding it at arm’s length as though it might grow teeth and attack her. 

“Meet me in the workroom.” For once, the elder witch chooses to walk rather than teleporting herself through time and space to get where she’s going. It’s almost too weird for me to process. Jimin gives my shoulders a squeeze before following directions and heading for the workroom himself. I immediately turn and run to find Taehyung to tell my sleeping beauty that it won’t be much longer now. Our parents are just as excited when I shoot them all a quick text to update them on this latest development.

I don’t see or hear anything from Jimin and Elder Ashlyn for the rest of the day. Late in the evening while Namjoon and I are sat cross-legged next to Tae, telling him stupid jokes, Jimin makes an appearance. My heart clenches at the pinched look on his face. 

“I have good news and I have bad news, which one do you want first?” He questions softly after a minute of seemingly trying to gather his thoughts.

“Bad news.” I reply. Better to go ahead and rip the bandaid off and then placate my sadness with good news.

Jimin takes a deep, shuddering breath before he answers me. “There is a ritual for fixing broken soulmate bonds.” An excited squeal flies out of my mouth as I grip one of Tae’s large hands in mine. Then I remember that I asked for the bad news first.

“How is that bad news?” Namjoon questions with an adorably confused look on his face. We’re both looking at Jimin with hopeful expectations and the reluctant warlock before looks like he’s going to be physically ill. 

“The ritual exists and has been proven to work but both soulmates have to willingly participate and Jess has two. A technical anomaly that shouldn’t exist and because of that once we wake Tae up and totally sever the bond we won’t be able to fix it because her body will reject attempts to create a bond when one already exists.”

The world seems to stop spinning on its axis, bringing everything to a halt as my brain comprehends the news that Jimin has just delivered. This can’t be real life. Just when I thought that things were finally on the up and up it comes crashing back down around me. I feel absolutely numb. I stretch out next to Tae, burying my face in his chest as I cling to him. Jimin has yet to deliver the good news but at this point I don’t really care to hear anything else.

“So what’s the good news?” I hear Namjoon ask as he reaches over to rub my back soothingly. It helps a little but it doesn’t completely ease the ache in my chest. 

“There was a footnote that said soulmate bonds could possibly repair themselves naturally but it didn’t mention whether or not it could happen in the case of a person with two soulmates.” I peeked over Tae’s shoulder at Jimin. There’s hope swirling in the distress I see in his eyes. 

“What do you want to do?” Namjoon poses a question that I have no idea how to answer. 

The selfless thing to do would be to let Elder Ashlyn wake Taehyung up despite the depressing consequences. He is quite literally sleeping away the best part of his life the longer he remains comatose and it’s not fair to him at all. But I don’t want to be selfless. I want to keep him. I want him to always be mine. Who’s to say that the connection between us would ever naturally rebuild itself? My heart and mind are at war between what I want and what I know is right. 

I loving run my hand through Tae’s hair that’s steadily grown out over the past few months. He looks so at peace like this. Blissfully unaware of the turmoil swirling around us. I do my best to commit his every feature to memory just as he is now. My heart aches under the weight of what I know to be right. 

A single tear slides down my cheek as I bend to kiss his lips one final time. “Wake him up.”

Jimin looks at me with a questioning look on his face as he and Elder Ashlyn stand at Tae’s bedside. I know what he’s trying to say. This is your last chance. A single tear slides down my cheek but I nod my head. Knowing Taehyung, he is going to be far from happy about the decision I’ve chosen to make but I love him too much to just let him slumber in oblivion like this. He deserves to live his life to the fullest even if that means I have to give him up.

The air above my beloved shimmers and sparkles as the sleep spell is lifted. His face twists up in that cute way it always does when he’s just waking up but his features are twisted up in pain in the next second. He lets out a strangled shout. His back arches at an angle that can’t be anything but painful. I move to step out of Namjoon’s arms to put a stop to Taehyung’s suffering, but Elder Ashlyn lifts her hand and my feet freeze in place. The burning sensation in my arm that had become a constant part of my life fades and fades until it completely fizzles out at the same time that Tae calms down. Elder Ashlyn finally releases her hold on me and I’m by his side before his eyes even open completely. Tae’s jaw is taut as he looks around dazed and confused while I gently wipe at his sweaty forehead.

He coughs a few times to clear his throat, licking his lips as he looks up into my eyes. I feel sick to my stomach. “Baby, what’s going on? Did you stop her?” The worried look on his face increases tenfold when he notices the way my bottom lip starts to tremble. I open my mouth to explain everything that’s happened but the words feel like they’re choking me.

“Elder Ashlyn? Jimin, what’s happening?” Tae cranes his neck to the side to see the witches standing off to my left. Neither one of them will meet his eyes.

“Tae, baby, look at me.” I lovingly cup his face in my hand, taking in all of his features. His one monolid and one double lid. The elegant slope of his nose. His long lashes. “We couldn’t stop her. She…she broke the bond. Our bond.”

“But I thought being under the sleeping spell was supposed to stop that from happening?” His voice rises as he gets more and more hysterical. I’m trying to explain everything about how the sleeping spell only protected him and not both of us like we thought it would when Tae takes notice of Namjoon standing in a far corner of the room trying to go unnoticed. Kinda hard when he’s so tall but the effort was there.

Tae nearly loses it when I tell him exactly who Namjoon is. I’ve never seen him this angry. Ever. If looks could kill, everyone in the room would drop dead in an instant. There was a time when I didn’t think anything could rile him up like this but I see that I’ve found his one trigger point. To his credit, Namjoon takes every harsh word in stride and remains quiet while I do my best to regain control of the situation. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Jessica? You let go of me and everything we had for him? What type of bullshit is that?” I wince at his bellowed words. He’s never yelled at me. Never even raised his voice. I couldn’t have kept myself from flinching even if I’d tried but right now he’s too mad to even care. 

“Tae it’s not like that I promise. Plus, Jimin said that there’s a chance that our bond could naturally rebuild itself.” I try to pacify his anger in the only way I know how but it seems that was the exact wrong thing to say. If we were in a cartoon, he’d be blowing steam out of his ears right now with how irate he is.

“A chance?! You did Antoinette’s dirty work for her based on some bullshit chance?” He yanks his hand out of mine as if I disgust him. “I would’ve preferred to sleep until the world ends if it meant that you would still be mine.”

Jimin and Elder Ashlyn have stayed silent throughout this entire fiasco, choosing to leave the explaining up to me since I know Taehyung better than anyone in this room. Although, that may be up for debate now. 

“Kim Taehyung, you shut your ass up right now and listen. There was absolutely nothing more we could do.” Elder Ashlyn breaks her silence and halts Tae’s tirade in the process. Every pair of eyes is glued to her face. “Whether you remained under the sleeping spell or not, your bond with Jessica had been severed and because of the second soul connection no magic on Earth can fix it. Now you can either get yourself together and do what you can to provoke a natural reconnection or you can go on about your business but what you’re not going to do is berate Jessica like this. None of this is her fault.”

Tae’s head droops forward as he takes in the elder’s words. I know what this means. His anger has dissipated but that leaves nothing but sadness and despair. When his shoulders start to shake with the force of his sobs, I reach forward to comfort him. The pain I felt when Antoinette snapped our bond like a rubberband is nothing compared to the agony of Tae shrugging my hand off of his shoulder. Never has he rejected me like this. Ever. I choke back a sob. What did I do? If only I had been more selfish with my choices. If only I had let him stay asleep. 

“I want to leave.” Tae chokes out after a few minutes. “I want to leave right now.” He looks over my crying figure once more and the pain in my chest only increases with the anguished longing I see reflected in his eyes.

“As you wish.” Elder Ashlyn makes him vanish with a wave of her hand. The tears are flowing freely now as Namjoon gathers me into his arms. I vaguely register the odd sound of air collapsing as Jimin and Elder Ashlyn leave me to my misery. 

At some point, I must have cried myself to sleep because I wake up in an unfamiliar apartment to the smell of bacon frying. There’s wood features everywhere I look so I know I’m not at home nor am I at my tiny apartment near the campus. I follow the smell to a kitchen that is equally unfamiliar to see Namjoon standing over the stove.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He abandons the pan to walk over to me, kissing my forehead softly when he reaches me. “Sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. Thought I’d have time to finish breakfast first.”

“Is this your place?”

“Yeah…” He scratches at the back of his neck nervously before leading me to a stool at the breakfast bar. “I didn’t think it would be a good idea for you to be alone after what happened so I had Elder Ashlyn teleport you back here with me. I hope that was okay.” My mind drifts back to Taehyung and what he might be doing right now. It’s no surprise that tears well up in my eyes once more. I’ve lost my first love and gained another yet I still feel empty.

“It’s fine.” I absentmindedly run my thumbnail back and forth along a small scratch in the countertop while Namjoon continues to cook. 

Everything is definitely not fine. 

I excuse myself back to the bedroom after forcing down a few pieces of bacon and a piece of toast. Namjoon looks like he wants to say something but thinks better of it, choosing instead to grab one of my hands and gently kiss each of my knuckles before letting me go. My heart swells with affection for the gentle giant in front of me but the fresh wound of losing Tae still stings. There’s only one person who can help me now.

“Hey, baby girl. We haven’t heard from you in a few days. I was beginning to worry.”

“Mom.” The tears that I’d thought had finally stopped flowing come bursting forth like someone had turned on a faucet behind my eyelids the second her voice comes through the phone speaker. She immediately goes into mother bear mode as she tries to interpret my blubbering to get to the root of what’s wrong.

“Send me your location. I’m coming.” I nod though I’m aware she can’t see me and hang up the phone. 

Namjoon knocks lightly on the door, but at this point I don’t have the energy to do anything more than lay in his bed like a starfish and cry. He pokes his head in and immediately crosses the room to wipe your tears away despite the fact that more just keep falling. He whispers something about going to get tissues and water, but I latch on to his arm before he can get too far away.

“No. Please stay.” Namjoon doesn’t say a word as he crawls into bed with me. The solid warmth of his chest. Strong arms holding me close. For once, I feel like maybe everything will work out. For once, I have hope for the future.

I stare intently at the smooth skin of my left wrist. Sometimes, if I stare hard enough, I swear that I can see a faint outline of the the three little letters that used to mark my skin. Today is my twenty second birthday. A day that I thought I’d be spending with the man those three missing letters had brought to me. Namjoon breaks me out of my reverie with a lingering kiss to my shoulder as wakes up. 

Guilt used to overwhelm me with every intimate touch or brush of his lips against any part of me but over the month or so since we left Elder Ashlyn’s sprawling estate I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching. It’s still a process, but I’ve largely come to terms with the fact that my feelings for the gentle giant currently wrapped around me like a koala are nothing for me to feel guilty about. He was always destined to be mine. I’ll always wish that we could’ve met under much more favorable circumstances, but we’re here together navigating the fallout of the chaos of the past year together.

“Happy birthday, baby.” His voice is low and raspy in that beautiful way it always is when he first wakes up. I twist around in his arms until I can properly face him, lovingly tracing the outline of his full lips before covering them with my own. 

“Thanks, babe.” My eyes drift closed as Namjoon peppers kisses all across my face. His talented fingers slip beneath the t-shirt I’d worn to bed to run his fingers up and down my spine, making me shiver. A breathy moan escapes me when he pulls back to shove my shirt up below my chin and exposes my bare chest to his hungry gaze. The chilly air in the room is a pleasurable contrast to his warm hands cupping my breasts as circles his thumbs around my raised buds. 

Namjoon’s head hovers above my chest, tongue seeking my skin when the door bell echoes through my quiet apartment. Were it not for the a strong gut feeling, I would have ignored the uninvited guest in favor of allowing Namjoon to continue to have his way with me.  But I have to answer the door. It’s a pressing need at this point.

“I’ll be right back.” Surprisingly, Namjoon offers up no protest when I extricated myself from his web of lust. I blindly redo the bun I’d slept in so it looks less like I’m just rolling out of bed. 

Frantic energy accelerates my heart beat the closer I get to the front door of my apartment. When I finally fling open the door, whoever it was is gone. I look left and right down the walkway and just barely catch sight of a tall, lanky man rounding the corner to the stairwell. An oversized gift bag in tow. My heart clenches in my chest at the quick view I’d managed to catch of his side profile. I’d recognize him anywhere.

“Taehyung!” My lack of dress and proper footwear is totally forgotten. Nothing short of an act of God could’ve kept me from bolting down the walkway after him. I hadn’t expected him to hear me yelling since he’d already started down the stairs, but the man in question nearly takes me down in his haste to get to me.

He steadies me on my feet only to stagger back himself when I launch myself into his arms. My emotions are all over to the place to the point that my brain feels like it’s vibrating. Taehyung takes a deep shuddering breath as he succumbs to the tears that soak into my shirt. He’s mumbling something into the crook of my neck but he’s speaking too low to properly make out what he’s saying. 

“I missed you, Tae.” I pull back from him to wipe the tears from his cheeks. He leans his forehead against mine, seemingly content to just be in the moment.

“I missed you more than you’ll ever know, Jessica.” 

“I’m glad that we all missed each other, but it’s cold as fuck out here and one of you is barely dressed.” We both jump when Namjoon appears out of nowhere with a blanket that he doesn’t hesitate to throw around my shoulders when Taehyung finally lets me down. “Good to see you again, Taehyung.” 

Taehyung stares down at the hand that Namjoon holds out to him. My heart jumps for joy when he shakes it firmly, accepting Namjoon’s olive branch. I try to stop it, but ever since the state of the weather was brought to my attention I can practically feel the chill seeping into my bones. 

“Okay let’s get you back inside.” The two hulking men on either side of me look more like mother hens as they herd me back into the apartment. 

I find myself quickly sat on the couch as Taehyung and Namjoon continue to fuss over me. Taehyung insists on tea which is met with a swift agreement followed up by Taehyung’s fascination at the wide variety of teas that Namjoon has stocked my cabinets with. The last time Taehyung and I had been in this apartment together our world was crumbling beneath our feet. It’s odd to think about just how much time has changed in the months between then and now. The events that litter our timeline almost feel like they happened to someone else. As I look around my apartment, I spot the large gift bag that Taehyung had been carrying earlier resting on the dining table. 

“Tae, what’s in the bag?” Taehyung crosses the room to bring the bag to me.

“Happy birthday, babe.”

I tear into the bag, shrieking when I lift out a signed Ella Fitzgerald vinyl. It’s obviously an original and not a remastered vinyl which means Ella herself held this record in her hands and signed it. I hug the framed album to my chest in fear that I let go of it for even a second it might disappear. 

“I love it so much, Tae.” I hop up off of the couch, connecting my lips to his before I can stop to think about whether or not I should. Taehyung is stunned for all of two seconds, kissing me back with a ferocity I’ve never felt before. 

Fear seizes me as once again a joyous, carefree moment is interrupted by a burning in my left wrist. I can feel the panic rising up to choke off my oxygen supply at the thought of reliving the hell that we’d just escaped. History repeats itself as Taehyung grabs at my arm when he puts two and two together. Namjoon is by our sides in an instant when he senses the sudden shift in our moods. The frame in my hands nearly tumbles to the ground but I manage to keep my grip on it, tucking it under my free arm. 

“What’s wrong? Jess, baby, are you okay? Is something wrong with our bond?” Namjoon’s words trigger a lightbulb in my brain. Our bond. His initials are emblazoned in my wrist just as clear as the day that they first appeared. My right wrist that is. The weird sensation that had sent me into a mental spiral isn’t the sharp burn that I’d thought it to be. No, this is an itch. An intense and persistent itch beneath the skin of my left wrist. The same persistent itch I’d felt when the letters KNJ had first made their presence known.

Taehyung is still holding my wrist, staring at it in shocked amazement. Jimin had said that this was a possibility but I’d refused to get myself wrapped up in any expectations to ward off any unnecessary disappointments. And yet, there it is clear as day. KTH. Namjoon lets out a whoop of celebration as he pulls both me and Taehyung into a bear hug. 

“Fuck tea! This calls for wine.” He pecks my forehead, clapping Taehyung on the back as he returns to the kitchen for the rest of the bottle of sangria he’d brought with him when he came over last night. 

“You know what this means right?”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder?”

“No, it means you now have two people to yell at you for standing in chairs to reach things, shortie.” Taehyung bolts when I raise my vinyl over my head as if to strike him with it. He screams for Namjoon to come to his rescue as I chase him around the room.

“So she can hit me? I think I’m good on that.” Namjoon takes a sip from the wine he’d poured for himself as he enjoys the show before him. A smart man.

I eventually get tired of running around as I’m sure they both expected, gratefully accepting a wine glass from Namjoon. I pucker my lips up for a kiss which he gladly gives me. He tastes like sangria and pure joy. 

“To happiness and rekindled connections.” Taehyung and I clink our raised glasses against Namjoon’s excitedly. The cheap wine tastes like liquid gold when I tip it down my throat. There was a time when I thought that the love of a lifetime was going to be permanently ripped from me and now here I stand with love two fold. I don’t know how we’re going to make this work but I do know that I’ll do everything I can to make sure it does.

[myhockeyworld87]

Nervous Regrets -Tyler Seguin - Part 14

Word Count: 5259

POV: Tyler

Warning: Smut, smut and more smut. NSFW, cursing

Notes: As promised here is part 14. Currently working on 15 as well as some additional requests; so may be a bit longer for installment 15. Hope you guys enjoy! Peace, Love and Hugs!!

It had to be a dream. Your eyes were still closed, and your mind couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening; but there was definitely a hand around your cock, sliding up and down. Which is why you knew you had to still be asleep. It had been months since anyone else’s hand, besides your own had elicited such pleasure from you. Oh, you’d dreamed of the time when you and (Y/N) would finally be intimate again, it was what got you through those long months alone; but with everything that had happened in the last few weeks, sex wasn’t really an option.

 The hand was now joined by a mouth, that just sucked on the head; a tongue swirling around it. It was so realistic. It almost wanted to make you open your eyes and check to see if someone was there; but then you didn’t want the dream to be over. The mouth swallowed more of your cock, while the tongue pressed up against the underside; it was exactly how you liked it. Your hips thrust involuntarily and a moan escaped your mouth; yet still you didn’t open your eyes. This time the mouth fully engulfs your dick, and it feels delicious; until it slides all the way back up to the tip. It doesn’t take long for your dream lover to deep throat you again, this time humming as she takes you inside her warm moist cavern. The vibration feels amazing on your stiff member, but it’s the hum that has you fluttering your eyes open.

Blinking rapidly you tried to clear your sleep fog brain, as you processed what was happening. Eventually, you saw (Y/N)’s head come into focus; bobbing up and down on your cock as she gave you what could only be described as the best blow job of your life. You ran your hands through her hair, and her eyes looked up at you; yet her mouth never stopped its ministrations. She smiled around your stiff member; as you grinned at her.

 Her hand skated up and down your thigh, finally reaching up and cupping your balls; giving them a gentle squeeze. You almost exploded right then and there; unable to stop your hips as they lifted up into her mouth. She kept her lips closed and bobbed up and down your throbbing cock rapidly; you could feel it twitch and knew you were close to cumming. You pulled (Y/N) off your rod, sliding her up the length of your body. She was frowning, so you kissed her, as you reached down to her pussy. She was soaking wet. Adjusting your bodies, you had her straddle you; then pushed your cock deep inside her. She moaned into your mouth, and you swallowed her cry.

 Her body started to rock against you, as she pushed herself into an upright position. It gave you the chance to admire her full breasts. (Y/N) always had the most perfect tits, but now with the baby growing; you noticed a subtle change in them as well. Her nipples looked darker and bigger; and when you tweaked them, she moaned in ecstasy.  Cupping them in your hands, you could feel that they’d become larger and the weight of them a bit heavier. They were sheer perfection, just like the woman who was riding up and down on your cock. As your thumb ran back and forth across her peaked nipples, she tossed her head back; pleasure written all over her face.

 Her nails sank into your chest, as she rode you faster and faster; hips gyrating down on you. You knew you weren’t going to last much longer; so, gliding your hand over her newly formed bump, you found her little nub and started to rub there. She started to pant, which had you thrusting deeply into her. Applying a little more pressure to her clit, you saw her fly off the edge into orgasm. Your free hand grabbed her hip, and she grinded her quivering pussy down on your cock. With a few short thrust you followed her, your own release hitting you like a freight train; as squirts of hot cum shot inside her.

 She collapsed on top of you, her body spent from the intense orgasm she’d just experienced; yours was no better. Softly you caressed her back, running your hands through her long locks as your hand moved up and down her body. You kissed her temple, while your cock went flaccid still inside her. Her breathing started to even out; and vaguely you wondered if she’d fallen asleep; until she made an attempt to roll off you. You tightened your grip, not ready to separate your bodies just yet. Propping her hands on your chest, she leaned her head there, eyes searching your face. “I’m gonna crush you.” It was the words you said to her only hours ago.

 “I like feeling you on top of me.” Echoing the words, she said back to you at the time; stretching your lips up to kiss hers. “I just want to stay like this for hours.”

 “Ty, we’ve been in this bed for hours.”

 “Mmmm…what’s your point?”

 “We should probably let the dogs out, and well…I’m hungry.” As if to emphasize the point, her stomach growled loudly. She giggled at the sound. “Your child is hungry.”

 Playfully you smacked her bottom, “well I guess feeding my babies is more important, than this.” You thrust your hips a little, and unwillingly she moaned. “So, what do want to eat?”

 “Pancakes!”

 Turning your head, you checked the time on the clock. “You want pancakes for dinner?”

 “Well, I don’t; the baby does.”

 A burst of laughter bubbled up your chest; and you chuckled at her answer. “MmmHmm the baby huh? Alright princess, let’s go make you two some pancakes.” Gently you extracted your semi erect member from her warm pussy; both of you whimpering at the loss of contact. Getting off the bed, you searched for your boxer briefs; grabbing a t-shirt for (Y/N) to throw on in the process. She rose from the mattress, then opened the doors, practically being attacked by the dogs. “Easy guys” you bent, scratching their heads. “I know you’re hungry too, but don’t hurt your mom.”

 “Ty, they’re fine. They won’t jump on me. It’s weird I know, but I feel like they know I’m pregnant or something.” She knelt down beside Cash, nuzzling the big black pup. “This guy especially, he doesn’t leave me alone. Do you buddy?” Cash licked the side of her neck, showing his mom some love.

 You walked over to the two of them. “Hey bud, that’s my woman you’re making out with.” You then scooped (Y/N) up into your arms; she screamed as you caught her off guard, which made Cash start barking at you. His growls in turn made the other two join in; all three dogs acting as if you were hurting (Y/N). “Boys, Sit!” you commanded them, yet they paid you no mind. “What the hell?”

 “See I told you. They know something’s up. They won’t even listen to you.”

 “Well then you tell them to be quiet.” The dogs continued barking at you, Gerry even going so far as to bare his teeth at you.

 “Put me down once.” Gently, you set (Y/N) back on her feet; yet not letting her go. “Guys, it’s ok. It’s just your dad. He just scared me.” She bent at the waist petting them all, as she spoke softly to them; they all quieted down immediately.

 “Well damn! I see how it is around here. You love her more, huh?” Reaching down you scratched each one behind their ears. “Hmmm, well that’s ok. Cause I love her more too.” (Y/N) shook her head and just snickered at you. “Come on, let’s go feed all of you.” This time, instead of snatching (Y/N) up in your arms; you kept your arms around her midsection as you half waddled, half walked out to the kitchen.

 Before she could move out of your embrace, you planted a kiss on the side of her neck. “Mmmm…you feed the dogs; I’ll start the pancakes. Do you want some bacon or sausage with them?”

  “I doubt we have any of that here.” Normally you ate breakfast at the arena with the team, and (Y/N) was more the bowl of Cheerios type; so, it wasn’t as if you kept a ton of breakfast food on hand.

 “I bought both when I went to the store this weekend. So, bacon or sausage?”

 “Who took you to the store?”

 “I know it’s a novel idea, but I drove myself.” She chuckled at you. “If you’re not going to pick, I’m just making bacon.”

 “When did you get cleared to drive?”

 She popped the bacon in the air fryer. “Ummm...Friday. Same day the doctor cleared me for…sex. I thought I mentioned that.”

 “Nope, you didn’t tell me either of those things. I would’ve remembered that.” Filling the dog bowls, you set them in front of the three pups; all of them waiting patiently. “Ok, go.”

 “Sorry, it must be pregnancy brain. Anyhow, I was cleared for all normal activity, including driving; and well obviously the other.” She was whisking the ingredients for the pancakes, reaching up and grabbing for the sugar; giving you a perfect view of her bare butt. All you could think about was taking her back to bed and resuming those normal activities with her.

 Sneaking up behind her, you encircled her waist and pressed your body against her; resting your chin on her shoulder. “Maybe we should go back to the bedroom and make sure everything is…still working properly.”

 “Ty, stop. I’m hungry.”

 “Mmmm me too baby.” You started nibbling on her neck, lifting the hem of the shirt she was wearing.

 She turned in your arms, kissing you quickly on the lips; before she tapped you on the nose with her whisk, getting batter on you. “After we eat, you horn dog.”

 “You got batter on me.” You dipped your finger in the bowl and smeared some on her cheek.

 “Hey!” She protested as you dabbed the other side of her face. “You know, I would dump this whole bowl over your head right now, if I wasn’t so hungry.” Instead she grabbed an egg and smashed it on your head.

 “Why you little…” she scampered away, hiding on the opposite side of the island; laughing hysterically. “Oh, you better run.”

 Hands sprawled on the counter, you made to move right; as she countered it. She circled around, the two of you exchanging places as she deftly avoided you. You faked left, which fooled her completely; in three long strides you had her in your arms. She squealed as you lifted her in your arms, carrying her back over to where her bowl of pancake batter was. “No Ty don’t.” She was yelling and laughing at the same time. Grabbing two eggs from the container, you brought them up and cracked them over her head, returning the favor. The goo was all in her hair and started running down her eyes; yet she was laughing the whole time. She turned in your arms, a high flush on her cheeks. “God you are so beautiful right now.” Leaning down you kissed her, egg goo and all.

 She broke the kiss before it could get heated. “I can’t see a damn thing.” Laughing as she tried to wipe the egg off her.

 Grabbing a kitchen towel, you began to wipe her eyes clear. “I think we both need a shower.” Once her eyes were clear you handed the towel off to her and grabbed one for yourself.

 “Well you’re right about that, but I’m totally eating first.”

 “Babe, we’re disgusting. If we shower together, we’ll be much quicker.” You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively at her.

 “Oh yeah, like that’s going to be quicker.” Ever since you’d came home and she’d jumped in your arms; you couldn’t keep your hands off her. Was it so bad that you wanted her naked writhing underneath your body again; or in this case naked in the shower while you took her from behind? Fuck you were hard just thinking about it. “What happened to my baby weight gaining trainer?”

 “He took a small vacation; his substitute has been completely sexually deprived for months and wants to make up for lost time.” Grabbing her hips, you rocked the hard length of your cock, against her.

 “Mmmm,” she moaned and you knew she was halfway ready to walk into that shower with you; then her stomach growled. You immediately felt guilty for depriving both her and the baby of food. “If you let me eat, I promise to fuck your brains out afterward.”

 You both burst into a fit of laughter. “Alright. Only if you promise to be thorough.”

 She held out her pinky, “Pinky promise.” Locking your pinky with hers, you bent and kissed her hard on the lips. “Good thing pancakes are quick to make.” She wiped some more goo off her face, then started to heat the gridle. You collected the plates and syrup; setting everything on the counter for the breakfast/dinner you were going to have. “Ty, how may pancakes do you want?”

 “None, but I’ll eat four because you’re making me eat food; instead of what I want to really eat.”

 “You have to clean your plate up before you can have dessert you know.” (Y/N) jiggled her ass at you.

 “Oh, I’ll clean you up good baby.”

 She turned and looked at you, spatula in hand, her cheeks turning a becoming shade of pink. “I’m gonna hold you to that one Seguin.” Turning back around she finished the pancakes, plopping 4 on your plate. Throwing a couple more on for herself, she then went and got the bacon out. You were halfway done with your meal when she finally sat down beside you. So, it was easy to just slide your hand up and down her thigh; slowly working towards her pussy. She tilted her head over at you, as she finished pouring syrup on the hotcakes. She took a forkful and brought it to her mouth seductively, sucking on the fork as she slowly pulled it out of her mouth. “Mmmmm.” You were already rock hard for her, but the sound combined with her suggestive manners, had your cock jerking to attention.

 She continued to tempt you; with each tantalizing bite she took. Finally, she finished everything on her plate. She clutched the wrist that had been slowly rubbing her thigh, while she ate. Taking your finger, she slid it around the sticky syrup left on your plate; then brought it to her mouth, where she sucked it clean. She popped the digit out of her mouth and you thought you’d almost cum in your boxers. “Clean up time,” she announced; then made a move to pick up the plates.

 Catching her wrist easily, you told her; “We need cleaned up first.” Scooping her up in your arms, you carried her off to the bathroom; only setting her down to turn on the shower.

 She was looking in the mirror as the water warmed. “Oh my god, we’re a complete mess.” Her hands were trying to comb through the dried egg in her hair.

 Chuckling at her, you turned her body; “Which is why we’re showering.” Lifting the hem of her shirt you pulled it off of her; throwing it over with your boxers that you’d already discarded. Taking her hand, you drew her into the hot and steamy shower; letting the water flow over your bodies. Ripples of water cascaded over her; and you couldn’t take your eyes off her. Picking up the shampoo bottle you poured some in your hands and began cleaning her long luxurious locks; watching the bubbles slide down her shoulders, trailing your fingers after them. Her back was pressed against your chest, and you cupped her breasts; massaging them as the soap rinsed out of her hair. She sighed as you took your fingers and rolled her nipples. Taking the soap, you continued to wash her body; letting your hands roam all over her.

 After a few minutes she turned to face you, “Your turn.” She returned the favor, washing your body; then shampooing your hair. Going up on her toes, she kissed you deeply. Your tongues entwining as the kiss got more heated. (Y/N) glided her hands across your slick chest, skating down to your cock; where she started to stroke you. Reaching down you delved your fingers into her pussy folds; rubbing her clit in slow circles, causing her to moan. Crouching down, you lifted her left leg and wrapped it around your waist; as your cock entered her. Her hands went up around your neck to push you deeper inside her. Leaning her back against the shower wall, you started to thrust into her. “Harder, Ty.” The water was rushing over the two of you; as your dick slid in and out of her.

 Your hands held onto her slippery hips; the water making it difficult to hold onto her. Her legs slipped from around your waist, causing your rod to slip out of her. “Babe, turn around.” She did as you instructed, bending at the waist and bracing herself on the tiled shower seat; as you slid your cock back into her. “Damn (Y/N) you feel so good.” She pushed back against you; taking you deep inside her pussy. Reaching around her you let your fingers wander to her clit, so you could rub the little nub.

 “Yes, Tyler….yes.” She set your body on fire, and you continued pumping furiously into her. You weren’t going to last long after all the teasing you’d both done while eating dinner; yet you wanted this to be good for her. Applying more pressure to her sweet little nub, you felt your balls tense up; as your climax started. You caressed her clit between your fingers, and felt her pussy quiver around your cock. It pushed you over the edge; as you thrust into her one last time, shooting your cum into her. She was trembling as you continued to work her pussy; her legs shaking uncontrollably with the force of her orgasm. Your hand tightened around her waist as you felt her body collapse, arms and legs giving out on her.

 Setting down on the shower bench, you cradled her in your lap; both of you still panting hard, as water sprayed all around you. “You ok princess?” She nodded her head unable to speak still; her breathing still labored. “I know babe that was incredible.” Your hand stroked up and down her back, soothing her until her body started to relax. Reaching over you turned off the water, pressing kisses to (Y/N)’s head. It seemed like only yesterday you were facing a life without her; now here you were holding her in your arms after having made love to her three times today. You had to be the luckiest man on earth.

 Lifting her up, you carried her out of the shower. “I can stand Ty.” You weren’t one hundred percent sure about that, so you gently placed her on the vanity stool; then grabbed some towels for you both. Wrapping the cloth around you; you went over and started to dry (Y/N). She was still trembling slightly, as she murmured. “It was just so intense. I can’t decide if it’s because it’s been so long or being pregnant.” A strange look must have crossed your face for she kept going. “I mean…sex with you was always great; this is just…. well, more amazing.”

 “I know babe. I can’t keep my hands off of you.” She grabbed her robe off the hook in the bathroom, and wrapped it around her; still looking a little shaky. “Are you sure you’re ok babe?”

 “Yeah, I feel fantastic. I was just going to go clean the kitchen up.”

 “Leave it, we’ll get it in the morning. I just want to go cuddle in bed with you.” You tugged on her, drawing her out of the bathroom and over to the bed.

 “But it’s such a mess Ty.”

 “So, it’ll still be there when we get up in the morning. Besides the cleaning lady comes tomorrow anyhow to get stuff ready for the move. Just get in bed and I’ll be back as soon as I let the dogs out.” Walking out of the room, you hoped she would listen to you and be in bed when you came back. The dogs made quick work outside, then followed you into the bedroom; jumping up on the bed with (Y/N). She had the covers pulled around her, but nothing else on; and even though you’d just blown your load not twenty minutes ago, your cock sprang to life. She needed to rest, so you tamped down your lusty thoughts and crawled into bed with her; bring her close to your chest. “So, want to watch Game of Thrones or did you finish season three without me?”

 “No, I didn’t watch it without you; you know I wouldn’t do that. I think we only have like two episodes left though; so, yeah put that on.”

 Flipping on the popular HBO series, you snuggled up against (Y/N). She was tracing the tattoo on your left arm, the one you had done for your family; softly running her nail along each year. It made you realize you wanted to do something for her and the baby once it was born; though you weren’t ready to tell her that yet. Instead you kissed her head, inhaling her sweet scent. “I love you (Y/N).”

 She glanced away from the television to look up at you; “I love you too.” Her lips came up to meet yours in a tender kiss. You let your hands rub up and down her back, as she lay her head back down on your chest. You were almost through the first episode, when you heard her grimace in pain.

 “Babe, are you ok?” She moved over to her side of the bed, rubbing her stomach. Panic set in immediately. “(Y/N), baby talk to me.”

 “I…it just feels funny, Ty. I don’t know.”

 “Is it the baby?” you could hear the terror in your voice. She threw the covers off, you assumed checking for blood; blessedly there wasn’t any. “I think we should go to the hospital.”

 “I don’t know maybe? I just feel kind of achy. It’s not super painful or anything, but what if something is wrong. Then again what if it’s nothing at all; I’ll feel stupid going to the ER if they tell me it’s indigestion or something.” It didn’t matter to you what the hell they thought; if she or the baby were in danger, you were going to the emergency room as soon as possible. You were halfway out of bed, getting ready to throw on some clothes, when she said; “Maybe I should call my mom, or yours, or even Melissa; or didn’t you say you told Bishop? I could call Andrea and talk to her, I mean she did just go through this.”

 “I think that would just be a waste of time and we should just go to the hospital.” She obviously wasn’t thinking clearly, and you needed to do it for her.

 “Please Ty, just let me talk to one of them first. I can barely feel it now.” She was grabbing your hand, trying to keep you from getting off the bed.

 “Fine, call one of them but then we’re going to ER.” She grabbed her phone and scrolled through the numbers, debating on who to call. In the end she settled on her sister-in-law, not wanting to cause either of your moms undo stress. “Put her on speaker.”

 “Hey (Y/N)” Melissa’s cheerful voice came through the phone. “How are things going?”

“Hey Lis, it’s ok. Well not really. I have a pregnancy question.”

 “Sure (Y/NN), I’ll try to help anyway I can.”

 “Well, we were just laying here and I feel kind of achy; kind of like a cramp but I’m not completely sure. I checked and there’s no blood or anything. Do you think I should be worried and go to the hospital or could it just be gas or something?” (Y/N)’s voice tried to sound calm, yet you could hear a slight tremble in it.

 “Ok well first thing, don’t panic; cramping can happen all the time, for a bunch of different reasons. Did you eat something weird, or lift something you shouldn’t have?” Melissa’s voice was trying to be very reassuring, but at the moment it wasn’t helping you at all.

 “Well we had pancakes and bacon for dinner if you call that unusual; and I didn’t lift anything today.”

 “Have you been stressed or done anything….strenuous?”

 You could tell, with that question something dawned in (Y/N)’s mind; but for the life of you, you couldn’t think of what it was. “Well…umm…we did have sex a couple of times today.” She blushed a little at her confession. “It’s the first time since I’ve been pregnant.”

 “Oh I see.” Melissa paused letting this knowledge sink in. “Ok what I’m gonna say next might sound strange, but was your orgasm like super intense.”

 This time you blushed at her words. “Umm…well…yeah. I mean like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

 Melissa chuckled then, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Do it kind of feel like when you used to get your period?”

 “Yes, that’s exactly how I would say they felt. Actually now that we’re talking about it, I don’t feel them anymore.”

 “Yeah then it’s totally from the orgasms; I used to get them all the time when I was pregnant. Especially if I had multiple orgasms, they seemed to happen more often then. They usually don’t last long, if they do, then you should definitely go to the doctor. I mean you should probably at least call in the morning and double check; but as long as they go away and there’s no bleeding, I wouldn’t rush off to the ER. Try taking a warm bath, or changing the way your sitting; that can help a lot when they happen. Oh and drink plenty of water; I know you don’t want to hear that as you’ll be going to the bathroom every five minutes.”

 “You’re a godsend Melissa. I’m sure you’re right. Like I said I don’t even feel them anymore, but I will definitely call the doctor in the morning. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I definitely couldn’t have this conversation with my mom.” You started to relax a bit, knowing that (Y/N) wasn’t cramping anymore.

 Melissa laughed, “No, I’m sure you don’t want to talk about your sex life with your mom. You know you can call me anytime and ask me anything. I told you that when you were here.”

 “I know and thank you so much. You are a lifesaver.”

 “Anytime (Y/N), well unless there’s anything else, I better get back and save your brother. He was being conned into another bedtime story when I left. He’s such a pushover with those two.” Her words put an image in your head; a vision of you and your soon to be little one curled up at your side, as you read them a story before bed. It warmed your heart.

 “Awww, give my little munchkins a kiss from me; and I suppose my brother too. I’m sorry for bugging you, but thanks again. Lov ya Lis.”

 “Love you too (Y/NN). Talk to you soon.” With that she hung up the phone.

 “I know you said you feel better, but I still think we should go to the ER.” You were still worried about (Y/N).

 “Ty, I feel fine right now. I promise. The doctor did tell me awhile ago that sometimes cramping is normal. I’ll call in the morning and talk to the doctor, I swear.”

 You were conflicted, torn between trusting (Y/N) and needing to hear from a professional she was fine; you supposed this was what fatherhood was all about. “Ok, we won’t go; but if you start having those pains again, I don’t want to hear any arguments from you.”

 “Agreed. Now come here and cuddle me, I’m freezing.” She’d never crawled back under the covers after she originally threw them off to check for bleeding. Scooting closer to her, you enveloped her in your arms; leaning back against the pillows so that you were both comfortable. (Y/N) turned back on the show.

 About, five minutes later; you looked down at her. “How do you feel?”

 “I’m good hun, I promise.”

 “Melissa said you should drink water. I’ll go grab you one.” You moved to get out of bed, when she latched onto you.

 “Tyler, I’m fine. Please just watch the show.”

 She snuggled back into your embrace; her breathing nice and even, as she continued watching the show. You however couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything but her; you had no clue how the episode ended. Before she could turn on the next one, you were asking; “Need me to get you something?”

 “No, I’m fine.”

 “Well I need a water; I’ll grab you one too.” The fact that you weren’t even thirsty was something she didn’t need to know. You hurried out to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles; taking them back to bed. Opening one, you handed it to (Y/N) to drink. She took a few sips, before placing it on the nightstand. “Why don’t you drink a little more?”

 She eyed you, skeptically; yet grabbed the bottle and took a few healthy swigs. “Ty, I feel perfectly fine. I know it’s hard for you to know that, and I’m sorry I scared you before; but please trust me, I would never put our baby in jeopardy.” You knew she was telling you the truth, and you tried to relax.

 “I know you wouldn’t babe. I’m sorry I’m just being a little over protective. I’d like to say that it won’t happen again, but it’s probably going to happen a lot.”

 She came over and kissed you on the lips. “I love that you’re protective of us. I might not always show that, but I really do.” She took your hands and placed them over her tummy. “Hi baby, it’s your mommy. Do you know how lucky you are? You’re going to have the best dad in the whole wide world. He loves you so much.”

 You quickly chimed in, “and so does mommy. So be good in there, until it’s time to come out and daddy will buy you anything you want.”

 “Are you bribing our child already?”

 “I will do whatever I have to. Even if it means buying him or her a puppy.” The dogs picked their heads up looking over at you. “Dad is just kidding guys, there will be no p-u-p-p-y. Besides that’s not a gift for the baby, that’s a gift for you.”

 “It would be a family gift, but no d-o-g for now.” You pressed a kiss on her head, finally feeling better about everything. “Alright let’s finish this season.” Switching the show back on, though both of you fell asleep not even twenty minutes into it; where you dreamed of a house full of kids, dogs and (Y/N) by your side.

[mawsoverpaws]

As Fate Would Have It (vore)

This took me 2 months and 4 weeks to finish, n I’m proud of it. Warnings for injury, (accidental) fearplay, and cursing. 

Kestrelle’s wings felt uncomfortably heavy as she landed on the forest floor, her arm ached as she held it to her chest. Scarlet dollops of blood soaked through her dark grey hoodie, dampening the dirt beneath her feet

She wanted to cry, but held back, she wasn’t keen on risking alerting some predatory animal to her existence, she’d hardly escaped the dog that’d snapped her arm like a twig between its jaws, she wasn’t sure she could make a swift escape again. Limping, she pressed herself against the trunk of a spruce tree, the shadow cast by its many limbs seemed to encompass her

Her pulse had returned to its normal rhythm in the shelter of the tree, she exhaled softly as she stretched her wings, wincing as her arm protested painfully, she let it fall to her side limply as she shifted to furl her wings over herself, laying on her side, she absently traced shapes in the soil

She’d been half-asleep when she heard the unmistakable sound of twigs snapping beneath the feet of something, whatever it was was evidently larger than her. Her heartbeat began to thrum wildly in her chest. She silently prayed that it wasn’t the canine that’d nearly killed her hours ago, something in her hoped it’d just been a spooked deer fleeing deeper into the woods. 

Either of those hopes were dashed when she felt digits wrap themselves around her waist. It was a human, the one thing she was raised to avoid since birth, she swallowed the bile rising into her throat as she fluttered her wings in a panicked flurry, hitting at the fingers that now held her firm and gentle, the human that held her shifted their grip so that she hung by their thumb and forefinger, and she couldn’t help the whine that escaped her. She was met with an eyeful of things at once, dark curly hair that fell in wisps framed the human’s face, bespectacled grey eyes that had a look she couldn’t place, pity, almost.

Kestrelle couldn’t find it in her to speak, she was scared into silence. She yelped when the human brought her close to his face, before speaking  “Listen, I know you’re terrified as all hell. But please trust what I’m going to do is just to protect you, until I can help you with...this” he finished, gesturing to her wound with a slight tilt of his head

Her ears twitched in confusion, barely registering that the human had brought her closer to his mouth. She could hardly scream as he slipped her over his teeth and onto his tongue, panic and adrenaline surged through her as she hit and clawed at the slimy muscle beneath her

Finn winced as he felt the smaller of the two panic, gently, he pinned her to the roof of his mouth, in hopes of comforting the shaken girl,prove to her he wasn’t going to hurt her. He cringed at the metallic taste of blood, he knew he had to swallow the girl quickly, before he lost his nerve

With a tilt of his head, he could feel the tiny’s legs press into the back of his throat, A slick, resounding swallow was all he needed to push the already exhausted girl, who was hardly fighting him anymore into his throat, tracing her shape into his chest with a careful finger

Kestrelle whined as the muscles around her gently pushed her into the darkness of the human’s esophagus, the energy she’d had dissipated, leaving her with little fight in her arms and legs. Her confusion returned when she felt something press against her carefully. Was, was the human making sure she was alright? No, she was going to die anyways, so what did it matter?

Finally, the esophagus deposited her into the stomach with a low squelch, the organ met her with a loud, satisfied growl. Her blood turned to ice as she shoved at the pinkish walls around her, she’d wished she had the energy to yell at the human to spit her up, to put up a fight. Anything.

All she could do, however, was curl up in the tightest ball she could, and cry. She was going to die here. Vanish without a trace, and nobody would ever know she’d disappeared. All because she couldn’t find it in herself to run away, hide somewhere the human was incapable of finding her. But, of course, she’d fucked that up, in the end

Finn elicited a low whine deep in his throat as he felt the poor tiny girl curl up. She was afraid of him, he realized. It was evident, by the way she quivered profusely beneath his skin, paired with the way her wings twitched

Fixing his glasses, he gently pressed a hand to his belly “H--Hey, are you alright in there?” he paused, swallowing thickly “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he inquired again, biting his lip, hoping that he hadn’t terrified the poor girl out of talking

Kestrelle lifted her head, wiping the tears from her eyes with shaky hands as she propped herself up. It was then she found her voice, it was heavy with anger and fear “What do you mean, alright?! You-you ate me! And I’m gonna die in here, no thanks to you” she let out in a rush, almost a growl, her chest heaving in strain

Finn flinched at the tiny’s volume, but was almost thankful for it. He hadn’t scared her out of talking after all! He pressed against her once more “You’re not gonna die in there, I promise. I just wanted to put you somewhere safe so you—I—could get you home and fixed up, didn’t have any real intent of hurting you in the first place”

Kestrelle froze, confusion fogging her mind. Swallowing, she observed her surroundings, she let out a startled noise when she noticed that there was a lack of stomach acid, saliva merely pooled at her feet “H-How are you—?” Finn cut her off  “I’d tell you the answer to that if I could, but hell, I don’t even know,” he answered, chuckling softly

Finn could feel the small girl’s shaking practically come to a stop now, her breathing evening out. He exhaled a sigh of relief but kept his hand where it was “So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” he inquired, kneading at her to keep her calm as he spoke

Kestrelle blinked “Oh--I, uh--” she swallowed, pausing “Is trying to escape a rabid dog a valid answer?”  she joked, admittedly a little nervously. Finn ran a hand through his curls, swallowing “I don’t mean to pry, but, was that why your arm was mangled all to shit when I found you?” he asked, there was a pause before the tiny girl answered “Yeah, that’s-that’s the exact reason. I thought I was going to, like, fucking die.” Kestrelle looked over her arm as she answered the human’s inquiry, noticing that the blood had dried in the few minutes, or hours, she’d been in here

Finn hummed in acknowledgement, gasping softly as he felt the girl shift beneath his skin, her wings brushing against the stomach walls as she did so. It was ...admittedly weird to feel wings, fucking wings on his insides. Not that he was complaining, of course, but still…

Kestrelle, on the other hand, was beginning to grow drowsy. The warmth, paired with the human’s heartbeat thumping steadily above her, was incentive enough for her body to want to fall asleep, she was practically putty as the stomach walls swayed with each breath the human took. As soon as she shifted to nestle into the walls, sleep dragged her under, and she was out like a light

Finn snorted as he felt the inward pressure against the front of his belly “Damn, didn’t even to get her name…” he murmured softly under his breath,  pressing gently on his belly as he continued through the woods, exhaling a soft sigh of relief when he could see the outline of his house through the trees.

[minsyal]

Mutual Feelings Pt. 11, [Revali x Reader]

Summary: Eh

Since the incident in Gerudo, Revali along with the other Champions returned to their respective homes to continue directing the various infantries protecting the four corners of Hyrule. You had barely spoken to him since. Rather, you were focused on finding the various ingredients and materials to craft the cure-all for a certain bird. Most of the items could be bought in Castle Town or the trading posts in the southern portion of Hyrule Field. A quick trip to the East supplied the water and greenery, only taking a day’s time.

You high tailed it to Rito Village faster than you ever had before. The items concealed within your pack weighed you down considerably, putting heavy strain on your shoulders as the straps cut further and further into your joints. It didn’t matter though. You could finally do something worthwhile.

Upon arrival, you were greeted by Seoi who was stood at the last bridge before entering the village. Her hands were folded in front of her body, her eyes not quite frantic but well on their way there. She tapped her toes against the wood in a similar manner to that of her daughter, but the joy and happy beats were painfully absent. 

“I’m so glad you’re here. Keumi’s been sick since you left, she never got better, and I’ve been trying to take her to the hot spring, but you know. I can’t…”

“Seoi.” You reached out, taking her shaking hand in yours. Her touch was chilled, and ghostly. Her fingers tapped lightly at your hand as she struggled to get the words out. She visibly calmed as you pressed your thumb into her palm, a breathy sigh escaped her lips. “I got what I needed. I just need some time to put it all together.”

She relaxed a bit more, covering your hand with hers.

A shadow passed over the village as the Divine Beast flew high overhead. You sat on the splintering wood of the landing, legs outstretched toward the edge, but not quite hanging over. Your toes threatened the edge, just a few inches from certain death. Scribbling furiously, you jot down the sharp lines and smooth curves of Medoh while it was still in view. There wasn’t a lot of information recorded on how the Divine Beasts worked yet. Though it wasn’t your job to collect it, you took it upon yourself to. Nobody would complain because nobody would particularly care.

“Whatcha drawing?” The annoying squealy voice said loudly into your ear, jostling your insides. The echo vibrated down your spine into your toes, casting an uncomfortable sensation through your core.

“Research.” You replied, not bothering to look at the perpetrator. You knew who it was. That bird had been following you around since the moment you stepped foot in Rito Village. After meeting Revali, you met Keumi. Unlike Revali, Keumi was obsessed with you. She wanted to be at your side every waking moment of the day and while it was rather bothersome, it was beginning to grow on you.

“Again?” She groaned, throwing her wings into the air as the spun on her heel. After three spins, she plopped down next to you and laid her head against your arm. “You always do research!”

“It’s my job.”

“Your job sucks!” She hopped up. “Want to play?”

“I’ve got work to do.”

“Fine.” She huffed, crossing her wings over her chest. A moment passed as she held her grim attitude, then as if the fuses connected within her mind, she jumped up and took off running down the steps.

Returning a few minutes later, she had an older Rito woman in tow. The woman heavily resembled Keumi, except for the expression on her face. Keumi’s was full of joy, excitement, and her beak hung open happily as she skipped toward you. The woman wore a look of embarrassment.

“This is the Champion!” Keumi wrapped her wings around you and rocked back and forth on her toes.

“Keumi, I don’t think you should,” The woman started. “I’m so sorry, she’s just not the best with her social skills yet.”

The woman attempted to pry the child from your body, tugging on hers, but to no avail. The child stayed.

“I’m Seoi.” She finally introduced herself. “Keumi’s mother.”

___

The sound of Keumi’s shaky breath hit your ears before the low chatter of those in the room. A bundle of blankets lined the floor with an even larger stack of pillows upon it. Keumi’s small hammock was hung from the balcony beams but proved to be useless as it rested against the fluffy bed that swallowed her whole. If it weren’t for the severe contrast of color, you would have assumed she wasn’t there.

“She’s been like this all night…” Seoi approached from behind, taking a shawl from a hook and wrapping it around herself. “We tried the hot spring, and she got better, but only for an hour or so.”

The heat that radiated from her forehead was like no other. Her fingers were cold, frozen even. Her entire body seemed as if it couldn’t decide whether to burn up or turn to ice. Raspy breaths came with each gasp of air and a deep rattling sound vibrated in her lungs.

“I need to get this all started.” You ruffled her feathers through your fingers. “It’s going to take a little while.”

“Seoi.” Having foregone noticing the inhabitants of the room, you were surprised to find Revali speaking up from behind. He and Junil stood against the doorway. You must have passed them when you entered. “We’ll keep watch of her.”

Footsteps echoed through the Castle halls, hurrying here and there as the maids began setting the day up for more Champion meetings. The kitchens were working at full speed. Sweet smells rose from the open windows, wafting straight to your room where your stomach growled angrily. You hadn’t eaten since yesterday when Link arrived with a basket of fresh bread and fruits. The remains lay on your desk, slowly getting stale.

Outside, citizens were bustling toward the castle gates attempting to catch a glimpse of the Champions as they arrived. You spotted a familiar group of people. One individual stuck out from the crowd like a sore thumb. Standing at least a foot taller than the group, her head spun around looking in all directions. It was Seoi, and Keumi was at her feet.

You hurried out to the castle gates, easily slipping past the guards as you pushed through the crowd in the direction you saw the girls. Keumi was the first to spot you, breaking free from her mother’s grasp, eliciting a gasp from her as she scrambled to grab her child.

Hopping up in your arms, Keumi wrapped her wings around your neck and locked herself in place. Seoi was soon to follow, giving you a polite hug.

“We tried to come see you, but it doesn’t seem like they’re letting anyone in right now.”

“Big ‘ol Champions are in town today. It’s hard for anyone to get in.”

“But you can get us in!” Keumi chirped.

“I can.” You laughed. “Do you want a tour?”

“If it’s too much trouble, you don’t have to.” Seoi smiled, raising her voice so you could hear her over the crowd.

“It’s no big deal.”

The girls thoroughly enjoyed the tour, and the maids loved Keumi who was a ball of sunshine as she bounced between them. Keumi insisted on seeing your room, and much to your dismay they ended up there. It was a mess, but a good mess. Everything had its own place and you knew where things were when you needed them.

Keumi jumped up and down on your bed, ruffling the covers further. Seoi stood at your wall, looking over the notes and sketches that were pasted up.

“It’s all completely over my head.” She said, trying to decipher what the information about the guardians meant. “I don’t even know what these things are.”

The kitchen wasn’t far from their home, just a floor down. The fire crackled as it slowly burnt off whatever had been cooked in the pot last, a not quite rancid stench licking the smoke as it rose upward. It sizzled like a firecracker when you poured water into the base, and it hissed loudly when you began scrubbing.

Seoi kept to herself. The franticness that grew with each passing moment was apparent with the way her gaze never tore from above as she eyed the open air where Keumi lay nestled beneath her blankets. Black char rubbed from the pot to your skin, scraping down your forearms to your wrists that had already gone black from being submerged in dirty water.

“Can nobody clean this around here?” You joked, hoping to lighten the mood. She nodded along in agreement but didn’t dare speak another word. “I mean, I get that you guys don’t want to dirty your feathers, but this thing is unbelievable!” You croaked, plastering a fake smile across your face as you brightly looked up to her.

Seoi’s expression hadn’t changed. Her mouth formed a single line, pulled taught against her feathers that lay flatter than usual. There was a light behind her eyes that wasn’t typically there – it was fearful.

“Seoi.” You sighed, picking up the pot and moving past her as you headed for an area to dump it. “Keumi will be okay. We’ve got the materials we need and we’re going to fix her. But you,” you pointed accusingly at her with a free finger, “you need to relax. Take a breather. I don’t like seeing you like this.”

A titter came from Seoi that accompanied her heavy footsteps. “Isn’t that ironic?” Her gaze softened.

“What?”

“You’re the one telling me to relax and that you don’t like seeing me like this.” She uncrossed her arms and straightened her back a bit, easing herself slowly to a more comfortable open position. “You’ve been happier lately.”

“I’ve been busier lately.”

“Is it Revali?”

“It’s supposed to do what, exactly?” Seoi said, hugging her arms close to her body as the two of you strolled past the stable where a salesman hollered to one of the stable hands as he approached from the path.

“It should cure her.” You explained, slowing your pace with her as she stopped near a fallen tree. Its bark was stale, tearing slightly away from what was once its home attached to the trunk.

“How?”

“It’s hard to explain. A lot of faith goes into this. I’m not even sure that one of the ingredients is obtainable. It comes from some historical record that a medicine man in the Domain gave me.” You pulled the book and handed it to her. She cracked it open to a random page.

“Anyway,” you continued, “it comes from a genetic mutation of the Silent Princess flower. I’m not 100% sure it will work, but I thought it may be worth a try. This guy is really respected in the Domain, and he was the one to bring it up to me. I just figured,” She cut you off.

“I want you to try it.” Her expression had grown serious. She snapped the book shut and handed it back to you. “Even if it doesn’t work, I trust you. I know you can work miracles, and I trust that you’ll help her.”

You glanced once more at Seoi, trying to discern the expression on her face. She hugged close to Junil, who was focused on Keumi as her chest rose and fell in sporadic beats. She was struggling to breathe. The medicine swirled around in the cup, taking on a mysterious purple color with small black speckling throughout.

Kneeling to her side, you continued to watch her. A warm hand rested on your shoulder, squeezing hard for a moment before rubbing it. Revali rested his arm around you, giving you a nod as you inched forward.

The small cup was brought up to her open mouth. You used your other hand to gently stroke at her throat, prompting her to swallow the medicine without difficulty. She accepted it, taking a deep breath as the last bit dripped from the glass. Revali leant down, resting his beak against your head. The group watched quietly as Keumi adjusted to the medicine. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled, but they soon closed as she fell unconscious. Seoi rushed to her daughter’s side, taking her hand to support her head.

You tousled from Revali’s hold, lunging back to her side as you pressed your fingers beneath her neck. She was still warm, a good sign. Seoi moved out of your way, enough to allow you to lay your head against her chest. A steady beat resounded, another good sign.

“She needs to rest.” You said, moving back to Revali who assumed the same position. “But I think it worked.”

“You’re amazing.” Seoi whispered, brushing her hand across Keumi’s forehead. “You need to go get some rest. You’ve been working on this all day.” She pointed in your direction, tearing her eyes away from her child. “She’ll be fine.”

“Junil,” his brow rose quizzically as you addressed him, “make sure Seoi gets some rest too.”

“You’ve got my word.” He assured you. “And you,” Junil spoke directly to Revali, “we’ll be okay here. You should go with.”

Revali nodded.

[jamesbucksiclebarnes]

Rating: Mature: Language.

Chapter List: [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [7] | [8] | [9] | [10] | [11] | [12] | [13] | [14] | [15] | [16] | [17] | [18] | [19]

[AO3 Link] | [Fic Page]

Tag List: @crossbowking, @khaleesislytherin

SERIES SUMMARY:

"Not human. She was not human. They all knew it. Could almost feel it, but couldn't make sense of it. That was why they were afraid. Not because of what she used to be Before. But because of what she was now."

Having found herself serving as the right-hand to the Governor for too long, Synnove le Jacques does her best to make things right with the people of the Prison. Stuck beside her partner in crime, her irritatingly obnoxious and hideously problematic best friend, Merle, she does her best to fight back against the monster she has let the Governor become.

CHAPTER TITLE: The Sin and the Sinner.

The incident at the farm became the stuff of legend.

A week later, at the next council meeting, no one – not even Claire – had the balls to snap back at me after I had walked back into the prison gates covered head to toe in biter guts. It had been a welcomed reprieve, really. Instead of being feared for violent tendencies, I was beheld almost in awe by the majority of the prison folk. No longer would I get withering stares or hissed remarks at my expense. Now, people looked at me with respect. The kind of respect that still came with the phrase “that crazy bitch” but… in a more, complementary manner.

Who knew grinding up a bunch of biters with a rotary tractor was all it took to go from Social OutcastTM to Most Popular Girl in SchoolTM? Or, should I say prison?

What an odd world we lived in.

It was almost worth the literal two hours and metal dish scrub it had taken me in the shower to actually get clean. Well, mostly. My hair was tinged red for days afterwards.

As for the supply situation for which we had gone to the farm in the first place to fix? Well, thanks to my antics, a larger group returned the next day to a near biter free farm. They had rummaged through the land and found a decent amount of fresh seeds still packaged up in the garden shed. Oh, and three baby pigs! The mother had been there, too, but was too wild and heavy for the group to take back. And let’s not mention the seven metres of copper wiring Malcom had taken upon himself to sneak back into the prison.

Carl and Rick took responsibility for the pigs the moment the crew had brought them back. He had contracted out the help of Tyrese and a handful of others to build a pen in the field.

Daryl and I had remained on the same basic schedule for the past week and a half; hunting, going on watch, going on small runs (which were really just an excuse to look for the Governor). He’d remained somewhat petulantly silent lately. I knew he wasn’t exactly a big talker, but he and I had had many lengthy conversations during watch and during our free time, so when he grew suddenly sullen it was almost as easy for me to spot as the moon in the sky.

While we were on watch, the night before our next council meeting, I remarked on it.

“Why are you so pouty lately?”

He turned partially in his camper chair to look at me with a raised brow. “I ain’t pouty.”

I crossed my lengthy legs over one another and gave him a pointed look from the corner of my eye. “Excuse me, sir. I’m looking for my friend, Daryl. He’s about yay-high, wears a leather vest, has this expression on his face most of the time.” I mocked an overdramatic grouchy frown before breaking out into a grin.

Daryl let out a soft sigh through his nose that could be mistaken for a chuckle before he looked away, out toward the darkened tree line with his lips pressed in a hard line.

My own expression fell and I grabbed the edges of my own camper chair that had been pressed up against the outside of the watchtower wall, and spin it in place until I was fully facing him. “Spill, Little Dixon. What ails ye?”  

He continued to stare blankly out toward the forest whilst I leant forward, resting my forearms against my knees to get a closer look at him. Though his hair had grown a tad longer, now partially obscuring the lines of his face, I could see the tightness of his jaw and the way his eyes were more narrowed than usual. He ground his teeth in thought for a moment before taking in a long breath, blowing it out through his nose, and turning his head slightly to glance toward me.

“It ain’t nothin’,” he said.

I snorted. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Daryl. I know something’s wrong.”

After a brief moment of silence, Daryl leant back in his camp chair and tossed a hand out toward the shadows of the forest before us. “He’s out there. I know he is.”

My expression hardened almost instantly, as it so often did whenever anyone mentioned Phil these days. That flame that burnt in the pit of stomach, the one whose light I always kept hidden from the world, began to peak through the cracks in my armour. Anger contorted my face into a scowl.

“You’re right,” I said, turning to follow his line of sight. “He is. Somewhere.”

The fact we had struggled this long to find any trace of the man only served to stoke that flame inside me. I was a creature of the forests, a being of magic, how the ever-loving fuck had one single goddamn human escaped me?

I’ll admit, there had been moments where I’d let distractions get the better of me. And my need to hide the truth of what I was continued to come before the need for vengeance. But, even knowing that, I felt as if I’d failed. I should have been able to find him. To get revenge for what he had done – not just to Merle, but in general.

It didn’t take much of a stretch of the imagination to believe Daryl likely felt something similar.

As that thought solidified inside my mind, I felt myself take a deep breath. For a moment, I held it, forcing myself to calm that ranging inferno inside me before blowing out the air in a long sigh. There was no point getting mad now.

I reached out and put a hand on Daryl’s thigh, lowering my head to catch his gaze with a sad smile. “Your brother was proud of who you became. He would never admit it, but I knew he was.”

Daryl swallowed, sniffled, and looked down at my hand with a deep frown before glancing my way. When his gaze met mine, he searched my face for a brief moment before nodding, returning my sad smile with one of his own.

I kept my hand on his leg, kept my gaze on his. “He wouldn’t think less of you for not hunting that fucker down. So, you shouldn’t think less of you, either.”

He averted his gaze down to my hand again, shaking his head as he cleared his throat. Though he didn’t speak, I could almost read his entire body like words from the pages of a book.

“I mean it, Daryl,” I pushed, squeezing my fingers around his thigh to draw his attention once again. “Stop thinking you’re worthless. You’re not.”

“The hell’d you know?” he snapped, though his expression was devoid of the anger present in his voice. Still, the sound of it bid me to remove my hand, leaning back in my seat to look at him with a thinly veiled look of hurt. “You don’t know me.”

“I know you better than you think,” I responded in a hushed voice. “Do you know how often he talked about you? Shared stories about how the two of you grew up? Daryl, I could give you a detailed play-by-play of what you did on your nineteenth birthday. And even that doesn’t compare to the fact that you and I haven’t had so much as a couple of hours apart since we met. So, don’t give me that shit about not knowing who you are. Don’t tell me I don’t know you, because I do, and whether you can believe it not, I think you’re a good man – and so did your brother.”

Daryl’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he stared down toward the grassy field beneath us, his brows deeply furrowed, and his hands squeezed into tight fists by his knees. Breathing heavily through his nose, he closed his eyes and pushed himself out of the camper chair. Silently, he walked over to the corner of the watchtower balcony, gripping tightly onto the railing as he peered out over the prison.

I watched him quietly, swallowing back against my own emotion. The things I knew of his childhood weren’t all pretty and it wouldn’t have surprised me to know that he didn’t often hear songs of his praise or testaments to his kind heart. I knew what it was like to come from an abusive home and into a realm of respect and love. It was a strange feeling and sometimes it was difficult to process exactly how one felt about it. That was why I stayed in my seat, waiting patiently for Daryl to sort through his thoughts without a word.

It took him a few minutes. The soothing sound of crickets filled the otherwise silent night air.

When he returned to his seat, I said nothing more on the subject, and neither did he.

“Did I tell you how I think Hershel has the hots for me?” I asked, breaking through the quiet night air suddenly enough that Daryl jerked slightly in his seat.

He turned to look at me with a cocked brow, eyes widening for a moment before the slightest ghosts of a smile stretched across his lips. “Bullshit.”

“Are you saying we wouldn’t make a hot couple?” I retorted with mock offence.

His small, stuttering smile stretched fully into a grin. “At least you’d have matchin’ hair.”

I snorted a chuckle, reaching out and slapping his shoulder, which made him laugh.

And, just like that, everything settled back into its normal place.

Until morning, of course.

#

The next morning, the council met.

My third meeting, the one that was supposed to be “the charm”. It went relatively smoothly, if you discounted all of the attempts made to derail my comments on what I had come to dub Operation Child In-Dangerment.

The current topic of conversation was the degeneration of the fence. It was rapidly growing unstable with the constant abuse the dead threw at it on a daily basis. The metal posts were long past their expiration date, having bent and warped almost completely into a “J” shape. We had to do something to strengthen it or we’d all risk getting overrun.

The timber posts we’d scavenged together had helped, but they, too, were growing weaker beneath the ceaseless onslaught of the undead. Hershel theorised metal would be the best option, though we hardly had the supplies necessary to build a forge. However, according to Hayden, there was a small town a couple dozen miles from here that had a rather impressive industrial area. He’d apparently once been contracted by the mayor to assist with a building development some years back and keenly remembered the metalwork factory that sat near the end of the industrial road.

It was a good day-worth of driving just to get there, especially considering we’d need to take the truck, which was notoriously unreliable, but Daryl and I agreed to it, nonetheless. Those fences were the only thing keeping the undead from eating everyone I had come to care about. If I had a chance to fix them, you bet your ass I would do everything I could to do so.

“Now, you’re gonna need to take a couple days’ worth of provisions,” Hershel was saying, looking at us with a mixture of concern and a kind of stern, almost fatherly look that made me feel all nice and warm inside. “Extra weaponry. And you’ll need to be careful. We have no way of knowing what you’ll be walking into.”

I waved a dismissive hand with a grin. “It’ll be fine as wine, Doc.”

He gave me a pointed look as, from across the table, Claire snorted.

“Your arrogance never ceases to amaze me,” she breathed, shaking her head.

“And your endless attempts to derail council business for your petty vendetta against me never ceases to – actually, no, never mind. That never surprises me.” I straightened in my seat and grinned at her. “Besides, there’s a difference between arrogance and just plain confidence.”

“Well, I’m quite confident in my assumption that your arrogance will get you and Daryl killed.” She pursed her lips in a pouted frown, cocking a challenging brow at me.

Instead of rising up at her, I turned to look at Daryl with a calm smile. “What do you think, Little Dixon? Reckon we can handle it?”

He nodded, smiling slightly back at me.

I turned my head and looked at Claire with a bright, somewhat smug grin. “See?”

“Oh, please,” Claire scoffed. “He’d agree with anything you say.”

“Not true.”

She gave me another one of those pointed, doubtful looks.

I lifted my chin and struck my fist against the table with mock intensity. “The Jets are superior to the Falcons in every way!” I declared.

“Like hell they are,” Daryl snorted.

I gestured toward Daryl with my smug grin fixed on Claire. “Boom. Disagreement.”

She just shook her head again.

Hershel, in his wisdom, spoke up before she could make another remark, tearing out a piece of his notebook and handing it to Daryl. “Here’s a list of what we’ll need. You should gather your supplies and hit the road tomorrow morning. I’ll assign someone to cover your watch tonight so you can rest up for the drive.”

“How kind of you,” I said with a thankful smile, batting my eyelids at the man.

Hershel smiled politely back before continuing with the council’s other businesses.

#

Daryl and I met up by the front of the truck early that next morning.

The sun had barely even begun to rise, which made me want to punch something, but I smiled genuinely at the man as I came to a stop in front of him. He was carrying an M16 rifle and offered it to me with a nod.

“For me?” I asked with a wide grin, taking the rifle gleefully. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daryl grunted with a small smile, shaking his head before gesturing toward the truck. “Want me to drive?”

“How gentlemanly of you to offer,” I answered, smirking as I slid the backpack from my shoulder and tossed it into the open passenger’s side window with my free hand. Without another word, I pulled the door open and climbed in, resting the rifle across my lap (barrel facing outward, of course).

Daryl did the same, placing his crossbow in the little gap between the front seat and the enclosed truck bed. Michonne had taken our watch last night and was standing by the courtyard gate, ready to open it for us as we drove through.

I gave her a wave as we passed, which she returned, and then the two of us were off.

#

“We need code names,” I remarked, lifting my feet to rest the heels of my boots on the dashboard.

“A codename?” Daryl echoed questioningly, giving me a bemused side-eye.

“Yeah. Road trip code names.” I leant back in the seat, turning my head to face him and grinning. “Like truckers.”

Daryl snorted. “I take it you got some ideas.”

“Bow and Arrow,” I said without any hesitation whatsoever. “You’re bow, obviously. I’m arrow.”

“Why do you get to be arrow?”

“Because I’m slim, fast, and pointy.”

Daryl barked out a laugh. “A’ight. Next?”

“Sheila and Yankee.”

“What?” He glanced over at me with furrowed brows, a smile still pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Sheila and Yankee. Because I’m a sheila and you’re a yank.”

“The hell is a sheila?” he asked. The way he pronounced it, all Southern-like, made me laugh.

“It’s an Aussie slang term for woman,” I answered. “Like “chick” or “broad”, but in Outback-Speak.”

Daryl shook his head with a silent laugh, taking one hand off the wheel and somewhat relaxing in his seat.

It had only been half an hour since we’d left the prison. We had a long way to go yet. I wondered how long it would take for Daryl to get sick of me and my incessant talking. There hadn’t been an issue between us regarding it yet, of course, but we also hadn’t been trapped in an enclosed space together before. There had always been the option to leave. He just never had.

“Hell. What you got next?”

“Hmm,” I hummed in thought, lifting my hand to tap a forefinger against my chin. “Archer and Dagger. Ranger and Rogue. The Redneck and the Rich Bitch.”

He snorted at that one.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, pulling my feet from the dash and turning in my seat to look at him. “Saint and Sin. Boom.”

“I ain’t no saint,” Daryl retorted, though it was clear my excitement at the name had amused him.

“Who said you were saint? Why couldn’t I be saint?” I asked in mock offence.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

“It was implied.”

He gave me a side-long glance. “Your name is Syn.”

“Yeah, but I mean sin. Like, s-i-n. Not s-y-n.” I looked at him for a moment with a straight face before crumbling into giggles. “Okay, okay. I obviously meant you were Saint. But if you don’t like that… We could be Sin and Sinner. Like Dumb and Dumber, but sexier.”

He just shook his head at that, looking out the front window with a faint smile.

The scenery past by us in a blur. Our speed only increased once we hit the interstate, enabling us to reach almost sixty miles until Daryl decided it was probably safer to slow down, given there were biters and abandoned cars beginning to mill about on the road in front of us. At one point, early on, I had turned to look out the window, resting the side of my head against the back of the seat as I watched field after field go past, I somehow blinked and suddenly, we were surrounded by forest.

I jerked upright, heartbeat thundering inside my chest as the fading remnants of what must have been a nightmare faded from my conscious mind.

Daryl turned to look at me, brows furrowed in concern. “You a’ight?”

“Did I fall asleep?”

“Yeah. Been ‘bout an hour.” He turned back to the road for a moment before looking back at me. “You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded, not voicing my confirmation (because I couldn’t), and readjusted myself in my seat until I was sitting straight against the backing, hands resting against my thighs. “How long we got left?”

“Another six or so,” he answered.

I grimaced. “Think we could pull over for a second?”

Daryl began press on the brake, wordlessly pulling the vehicle over to the roadside and bringing it to a squeaky halt. Once we’d come to a complete stop, he turned to look at me, watching as I pushed open the passenger side door and leapt out.

The fresh air bit at the skin of my face, cooling the burn that had begun to set in across my flesh without my knowledge. I didn’t know if my magic had been awakened by whatever nightmare had apparently taken root during that one unaccounted hour, but it sure felt as if something had set it free inside me. A typical side-effect of being a creature of instinct and magic meant, sometimes, emotions spiralled out of my control. When that happened, sometimes, those emotions manifested in the world around me through magic. Anger lit a fire beneath my skin that often burned hot enough to increase my body temperature higher than humanly possible. Usually, I could manage it. Keeping a tight grip on my emotions came with the territory of being an assassin, though I couldn’t completely supress them like many of my co-workers could. My anger had always gotten the best of me. It was the one thing I could barely hold back, which was dangerous, considering my fire magic was quite… potent. Even with the magical bind that restricted my magic use, I was liable to start forest fires if I got angry enough.

It didn’t always happen, of course. It was barely any more predictable than a heart attack was.

I was just thankful I’d woken up before I had hurt Daryl.  

“Hey.”

Standing beside the truck, bracing my hands against my thighs, I hadn’t even noticed Daryl’s approach. He’d gotten out likely the same time I had and had walked around the front of the vehicle whilst I had zoned out. I felt his hand come to rest on my shoulder. When he didn’t pull it back, yelling in pain at the heat, I let out a soft sigh and straightened.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at me worriedly, his hand still tightly gripping the leather of the jacket over my shoulder.

“It’s – I just – Don’t worry about it, alright?” I stuttered in response. Honestly, what was I going to tell him? That I’d had a bad dream? I didn’t even know if I had. I’d just woken up angry and frightened and couldn’t for the life of me figure out why.

“I am worryin’,” he breathed, shuffling slightly closer to me. When he got a good look at my expression, he nodded and stepped back, allowing his hand to fall to his side. “Need a minute?”

I gave him a thankful nod. He walked back around to the driver’s side and climbed into the truck, patiently sitting whilst I took in large lungsful of air.

Honestly, had it been a nightmare, there were so many different things it could have been about that I didn’t have a hope in hell of figuring it out.

I took in a few more deep breaths before shaking my head to clear the fog from it, reaching out for the doorframe and climbing back up into the truck.

Daryl watched me the whole time whilst I got myself comfortable and slammed the door closed, a frown on his lips. When I caught his gaze, he lifted a questioning brow.

I nodded, gesturing toward the open road ahead of us. “Ready when you are, Sinner.”

He paused a moment, looking as if he wanted to ask something, but thought better of it. With a shake of his head, he put the truck back in gear and we continued on our way.

#

The rest of the drive passed smoothly.

We acted as if nothing at all had transpired, chatting away in that nonsense way we somehow excelled at. Once we reached a dilapidated gas station that marked the rough halfway point, we swapped seats. Midway through my turn driving, Daryl fell asleep, curled up against the door with his elbow resting against the window.

The silence was broken only by the sound of the wheels against the road and the soft, near hypnotic sounds of his steady breathing. Every now and then, I stole a glance over to him, smiling to myself at the serene look of peace on his face.

It was in moments like that where I found myself often imagining what would happen if I truly opened up to the man sleeping beside me. If I told him the truth of what I had been before the world had gone to shit, what kind of blood truly rain through my veins. Every time I found myself wondering, the cold hand of fear would pull the thought away in a violent, swift motion that left me shuddering. I had always been the kind of person that preferred to shoulder the weight of my own demons to stop them from crushing the ones I cared for. Even when the effort came at the cost of the relationships I had been trying to protect.

The truth was, I had chosen to throw myself into the darkness to keep the one I loved the most in the light. But my darkness had come back to snuff out that brightness in one vile moment that haunted me to this day.

I had brought that onto Her. Just for being who I was, who I had become to keep her safe. And I would never forgive myself for it.

Perhaps that was why I shuddered at the thought of allowing anyone else the chance to fall into the same fate. Why I refused to open up, even with the knowledge that one day the truth would inevitably come to light, and likely not in a very pleasant way.

“What’s that look for?”

The sound of his voice startled me so much that I actually jerked the wheel a little, causing the tires to screech as I realigned them.

“Jesus fuck, man,” I breathed, turning to look at him once I was comfortable I had the truck under control again. He was partially sitting up now, his arm having slid down to rest against the inner windowsill, looking across at me with a worried frown. “Warn a girl, would you?”

“The hell you want me to do, whistle?” he asked, the concerned look softening slightly in a small smirk of amusement.

I grimaced. “For some reason, I feel like that would be worse.”

Daryl straightened fully back into his seat, looking out the front window and shielding his eyes with his hand. “How far we got?”

“’Bout an hour,” I answered. “Turn off is coming up, I think.”

Once we had made our way off the interstate, the series of factories Hayden had described were pretty easy to find. They were set up in a sort of C shape, with an expansive, barren carpark set up inside the curve of buildings. A wide alley lead between two of the factories, cutting right through the centre of the C and leading to the carpark.

I backed the truck to the opening of the alley, putting it in park before turning to look at Daryl.

“Best scope it out before we bring the truck in,” I stated.

He nodded his agreement, fetched his crossbow from behind the seat, shouldering my backpack as he slid out of the truck. I followed shortly behind, leaving my M16 in the back without even thinking.

[akitokihojo]

In Between: Chapter 5

Previous chapters can be found in my fic masterlist, as well as on AO3 and ff.net

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

Inuyasha ticked his claws along the wood of his desk, trying his damndest to focus solely on the contents of the folder in front of him and not what Sango and Hojo were trifling over at the other end of the department, their perplexity practically blasting through a megaphone. What the hell were they even looking at that had them so derailed? He knew they were exclusively working on his case, but what in Bruce Almighty was causing them to sound so pathetically flabbergasted? It was driving him insane.

Fed up, he slammed the manilla file shut, inhaling deeply to maintain whatever discipline he had, sitting up straight and noticing his partner seated at the desk directly across from him, staring at him bewilderingly. 

"You deserve an award." Koga spoke, his expression never changing. Inuyasha grimaced. What the fuck was up with everyone today? "In all the years we've worked together, I've never seen you demonstrate so much self control. I mean, even I want to tear into Thing One and Thing Two over there."

"How long until you think they'll bring it over?" Inuyasha could feel his irritation spiking. He wasn't allowed to butt in without invitation, he wasn't allowed to have any input, he wasn't even allowed to so much as glance at their work without getting the scolding of a lifetime from their ruthless A.D.A.- a person he was almost willing to admit he feared. He'd witnessed scenarios before where cops had a significant involvement with another person in an investigation, and therefore had to watch from the sidelines. They were allowed to actually watch, though. No matter how stressed or angry, they were never completely isolated from the damn thing until otherwise called upon, but of course that wasn't the case here. No. Kagura and Totosai were too damn concerned over Inuyasha's temper. They thought the second they got any sort of hint as to who was behind this, he would sprint off to square up. Which was, of course, a crazy notion all on its own.

Inuyasha was far from impulsive.

"Fifteen seconds. Act surprised." Koga smiled, pretending to be busy as Sango dropped a crinkled envelope in front of Inuyasha. 

The half demon looked up at the hovering detectives, noting the obvious aggravation wrinkling Sango's brow line. Hojo wasn't looking much better, clearly stumped and ready for some sort of answer. About fucking time.

"What's this?" Inuyasha asked, pretending like he hadn't heard the two detectives arguing just seconds ago.

"Remember how we told you Kagome stopped by?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, that guy didn't just pop into The Coffee Shop to chat. There was more to it. He brought pictures. Could you take a look and-"

"What?"

"Chill. We've been staring at them for days, Inuyasha. We've tried fitting them to your old cases going back about seven years now, and nothing. Totosai was no help, Miroku could only suggest this has something to do with his M.O., and Koga doesn't recognize a single person photographed."

Inuyasha shot Koga an incredulous glare, causing the wolf demon to jolt from his seat.

"Would ya look at that. I'm out of coffee. Be right back."

"Inuyasha, we had no choice but to lie to you. You know the pressure we're all under right now, so would you just look at the damn pictures and help us out?" Sango grabbed the envelope and tipped it over, dumping the polaroids in front of Inuyasha and spreading them out with her fingers. 

His response faded away, a woman's photo in the center immediately silencing his initial instinct to sass, half-surprised that he wasn't staring at a glossy photo of Kagome or himself, and riddled with a triggered memory. It was vague, fuzzy, almost nonexistent but still just enough to wrench at the half demon's core. As he studied each picture, each woman, each child, everything started becoming more and more familiar. Inuyasha noticed a polaroid sticking to the back of another and carefully peeled them apart, a spiked rush jerking through him and slamming his stomach to the bed of his pelvis as he stared at the little girl he'd seen before, her long, silver hair and empty eyes haunting him as they once had so many years ago.

"What? What is it?" Hojo asked, alerted by Inuyasha's clear change in body language. The half demon rose to stand, cursing incoherently under his breath, his voice growing louder and rougher with each profane word.

The kick from the back of Inuyasha's legs sent his chair tipping over as he jumped up, storming to the large display of monitors at the opposite end of the room. He jostled the mouse, making the three screens come to life as he clicked on the database, the bar on the screen slowly filling to show its loading progression.

"Inuyasha!" Sango followed, carrying the rest of the pictures over and spreading them along the glass table Inuyasha stood in front of.

"I know this girl, Sango. We never found her body."

"What case was this?"

"It was like nine years ago. I remember the face of the perp better than any other fucker I've been up against. His name's Naraku-something. Fuck!" He kept typing the information in wrong, his fingers more impatient than his brain. "I went through hell and back trying to get enough proof against this guy to convict him, and he got off with an insanity plead. He was sent to a mental health institute indefinitely."

"Indefinitely? Then wouldn't that mean he's in there for the long haul?"

"Unless he got out. Sango, this guy was a literal psychopath. He stalked women and children, took thousands of pictures of his victims, hung them up like art, and murdered at least a dozen people without a single sign of remorse. Look at this," Inuyasha redirected her line of sight to the screen, finally opening the caseload he'd been looking for, an image of a young boy popping up on the screen to the left, the middle screen filled with scanned images of the paperwork, and the right screen holding the image of his pale remains on the metal table in the morgue.

Sango looked back and forth from the images, noticing the strangulation marks along the neck of his lifeless body, his lips as purple as the bruises around his face. His skin was almost as white as his hair, washed clear of all blood and dirt. He was so young. The photo provided by who she could only assume were his parents showed him standing in front of a plastic, colorful basketball hoop, a black and orange ball held in his tiny hands, making it look so much larger than it would had an adult been holding it. He was smiling, enjoying himself, his light hair long and tangled from running around and being the kid he was only allowed to be for so long.

"His name's Hakudoshi. He was kidnapped and murdered by Naraku when he was eight. When we got the warrant to search through his shit, we found a picture of this little girl." Inuyasha brought up a photo of the same girl, replacing the image of Hakudoshi's corpse. Her hair was long, thick, and straight, a large flower clip decorating the side of her head. Her eyes were dark, holding about as much depth as the sea, light unable to penetrate and brighten what was held within.

"Who was she?" Hojo asked.

"A missing child's report told us her name was Kanna. She'd gone missing seven years prior and was never found."

-----

"So, what? He just... left?" Koga asked about an hour later, leaning back in his chair, balancing on the two back legs as he propped his feet up on his desk.

"We won't know that until we get down to the psychiatric facility and confirm." Sango said.

"We don't even know if it's him. It could be a copy cat.” Hojo stated, from the opposite end of the table the group sat around.

"No, this is him." Inuyasha insisted, his eyes glued to the photo of Naraku on the screen, the menacing smile plastered on his face during his mug shot bringing him back to their long, tedious interrogation. 

"You can't be so sure, Inuyasha. We have no proof."

"Don't you think it'd be a little too coincidental, brown-noser?"

"That nickname again?" Hojo rolled his eyes.

"Hah! I've missed that!" Koga laughed.

"Now, now." Totosai sighed, standing at the high end, looking unamused.

"I'm only saying, lets not have all our ducks in a row for something we aren't positive of. We need an I.D. of some sort."

"Yes. We do." Totosai agreed.

"You got a little something on your face, buddy." Koga murmured, dropping his feet to the floor and sitting up straight as Sango shot him a dangerous glare.

"Sango. Hojo. Stop by Kagome's apartment tonight. Show her a photoset of similarly looking men to our perp here and see if she can identify Naraku." Totosai ordered.

Kagome's Residence

"It'll be quick, Kagome. All they're gonna do is ask if you recognize anyone." Inuyasha gently explained.

"And if I do?"

"You tell them."

"And then what happens?"

"We take it from there."

"They take it from there." Kagome corrected, reminding Inuyasha that he wasn’t the lead investigator on the case anymore. As an officer on the victim side of things, he seemed to have some leeway, but it still wasn’t clear where his authorities drew the line.

"They take it from there, and I come over with dinner since I know you haven't eaten." He maintained the softness in his tone. 

"No, you don't have to do that."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"This... morning?" She asked more than stated.

"Then it sounds like I do."

“And why can't you be here when they show me the photos, again?"

"Because, Kagome, they don't want me influencing your answer."

"But you wouldn't."

"Yeah. I know that, and you know that, but they have to go by protocol. I'm not even supposed to be on the phone with you right now. I'll come up as soon as they're done, okay? I'll be waiting downstairs."

”Kay.” So, apparently, that was where the line was drawn.

The call ended. With the way Inuyasha was talking, she expected the detectives to be here any minute, and if he was giving her a courtesy call so she wouldn't be taken by surprise, which was appreciated because she was pretty done with surprises at this point, she wasn't about to throw him under the bus by tipping them off. Which meant, as much as she wanted to tidy up her apartment a bit, she was going to have to leave it as is for the time being. The smallest details made a difference, especially to police officers, even she knew that much.

It didn't take long for her to catch the echoing march of feet coming up her stairs, courtesy of the cavernous halls, the sound of their shoes outdoing the intro music to the show playing on Kagome's T.V.. She waited for the knock before she got up, peaking through the peephole just to be safe, and then set to undo the lock on the knob, deadbolt, and the newly-installed chain Inuyasha had graciously installed just the night before. The smile on Hojo's face was delightful and warm. Almost as if he were the one welcoming her in. Sango's smile was soft, her brown eyes holding a gentleness as she spoke.

"Hey, Kagome. How are you?"

"I'm... okay." She gave a wane shrug. "What's up?"

"May we come in?" Hojo asked, briefly looking around the hall, gesturing that he didn't want any prying eyes or ears. Kagome nodded, stepping aside so they could enter her apartment and closing the door behind her, not bothering to lock anything. Inuyasha said it wouldn't take long.

"Would you like something to drink?" She offered, feeling her heart begin to beat faster in her chest. She already knew what they were going to say, but yet she still couldn't help but feel anxious. She’s been a total basket case lately.

“No, thank you. Look, Kagome, we've made a little progress on your case," Sango said, presenting it as well as she could to come off as good news. Which it was. Kagome just felt like she wouldn't be able to see the bright side of things until this creep was arrested. "We have a few pictures with us, and we were wondering if you could take a look?"

Kagome crossed the room, joining the two detectives at the couch as Hojo pulled out a small board of eight mug shots aligned neatly in two rows, gently setting it on the coffee table in front of them. Almost every man looked menacing. Terrifying. A few seemed like they regretted their actions, their eyes large and swollen, holding up their placard with their identification number. The others seemed to completely lack empathy, staring straight through the camera lens like they were looking at their previous victims, almost seeming proud to be holding up their boards. There was one guy, though, that seemed to belong more than others, looking so frightening, so completely apathetic, the smile on his face saying he'd gotten away with what he'd done for too long. She knew him. She knew that smile. In fact, she'd seen that very same smile just this morning, only it was shined at her kindly. Could it have been a smile of manipulation all along? This couldn't be right. Maybe they just looked alike, but they weren't the same guy. That had to be it. The man in the mug shot had long, messy, unwashed, almost dreaded, black hair, and the one she knew wore a short, neat style. He was groomed and always dressed in a suit, ready for a day at the office. This man... he didn't look capable of speaking to someone without threatening their lives. That's right. She was mistaken. She had to be.

"What's wrong, Miss Higurashi?" Hojo asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She'd been staring at the board for a few minutes, her brows pinched together in tribulation. They'd told her to take her time, but it almost seemed like she'd stopped breathing as the seconds passed. Kagome looked up at him, her lips parted as she worried the bottom with her teeth. 

“This man…” She pointed to the menacing shot of Naraku, tapping her fingernail against the tab.

“Is this who gave you that last envelope?” Sango asked.

“No, that’s not him.”

“But you know who this is?”

“I’m not really sure. I know someone that looks similar, but... this can’t be him.”

"What do you mean?"

"The guy I know seems more... well-put together and nice. He doesn't look like he could hurt a fly. This guy looks like he'd snap your neck if you looked at him wrong... but, the resemblance…”

"Do you know his name?" Hojo implored, giving her shoulder a supporting squeeze.

“Yeah, it's Onigumo. He mostly goes by Oni; says he hates his full name. Everyone at The Coffee Shop knows him."

"This man," Sango picked up the photo board, looking from the con to Kagome, making sure the girl’s eyes were fixed on their criminal. "His name is Naraku. We can't confirm anything just yet, but if he's our suspect, he's very dangerous."

"Miss Higurashi, do you have any other contact with Onigumo?"

"No." She shook her head. "I only ever see him when I go by the cafe. Do you think this is really the guy we're after?"

"We cant be certain yet, but just in case-"

"Tread lightly. Yeah." She was starting to feel sick. If things were actually looking as grim as they seemed, if Onigumo was really Naraku, she'd been in the same room as her stalker at least three times a week for months now and hadn’t even known it. It meant Onigumo had broken into her apartment multiple times, destroyed her home, and took pictures of her sleeping. It meant Onigumo didn't actually need to take the time to ask how she was doing, even though she always gave the cliche "I'm okay" answer, because he knew exactly what she was going through.

"You've done great, Kagome. You've really helped us out." Hojo stood, adjusting his coat as Sango joined him. Kagome rose to walk them to the door, almost feeling as if she was going to vomit. All she had to do was hold it together for sixty more seconds.

"That's all you need from me?" She asked, trying to appear as casual as possible.

"At the moment, yes. We'll be in touch, okay?" Sango smiled, giving her arm a reassuring rub. Kagome nodded, thanking them for stopping by and shutting the door as they exited, only bothering to lock the knob for the time being. She knew her stalker all along. Of course, she did.

Did Inuyasha?

"You can go up now." Sango hummed, pushing her hands as far as they would go into her pockets as they exited the small lobby and came out onto the sidewalk. Inuyasha was leaning against the wall, almost in the exact spot she pictured him standing in when they'd first arrived, a brown, paper bag held in one of his hands. His silver hair had taken on a slightly colorful contrast, shaded by the orange hues of the sunset, his tinted bangs falling over his ember eyes, helping them glow a little brighter. Sango held out her hand in front of a groaning Hojo, palm up, fingers wagging until he fished a ten dollar bill out of his pocket.

"You knew I'd be here?"

"You bet!" Sango winked, pun intended. "You're as predictable as ever, Inuyasha."

"Shut up." He rolled his eyes. "Did she know any of 'em?"

"Yeah. She recognized your guy but thinks it’s someone else.” Hojo stated. "But we can't be sure yet since we haven't confirmed if he's broken out."

"What do you mean? She identified him!"

“You know that’s not enough, and even so, he may be going by a different alias now. Onigumo. Koga and I will stop by the psychiatric facility first thing tomorrow morning to see what's going on with Naraku, because according to their system, he's still there. We'll get the visual."

"I'll stop by The Coffee Shop and ask the employees about this Onigumo; see how long he's been a customer and what, exactly, they know about him." Sango declared. "And you will be?"

"Get the fuck out of here." Inuyasha scoffed, pushing past his two coworkers and through the door, heading straight for the stairs without looking back at them. He knew perfectly well he needed to stay out of their way, and he was doing a pretty damn good job so fucking far, so what point did it serve to remind him? He wasn't willing to compromise this case. Not for anything. Not when Kagome's safety was on the line. Sure, if it were only him involved, it'd be a different story, but it's not. Naraku's set his sights on Kagome in order to get back at Inuyasha, and just the sight of her stressed, exhausted, concerned eyes was enough to tell him it was fucking working. Naraku was getting what he wanted.

"Kagome, open the door." Inuyasha said, gently rapping his knuckle against the wood. The sound of a bolt clicking at the end of the hall caught his attention and he glanced over, seeing Kagome's elderly neighbor step out into view, the handle of a black, metal bat grasped within her wrinkled fingers. He cocked his head, grimacing at the old lady.

"Oh, it's just you again. Well, you're alright." Kaede shrugged, turning back and closing the door behind her just as Kagome opened her own. Jesus Christ, what the hell was the old lady thinking?

"Hi." Kagome smiled as he stepped in, locking the chain so he wouldn't give her grief.

"Did you know Kaede had a fucking bat?"

"Oh, yeah. She's had it for years. I think she’s excited that she actually has a reason to use it now.” Kagome said, heading back over to the couch. Inuyasha pushed the thought of the crazy, old woman with a weapon aside, focusing on what was important once more.

"I brought you a sub."

“You didn’t have to do that, Inuyasha.” She said, pulling the small throw blanket over her legs and turning down the volume of the television with the remote.

"You need to eat, Kagome." He sat on the small loveseat, unloading the contents of the paper bag on the coffee table. "I know you're about to say you aren't hungry, but I don't care. You've hardly eaten lately."

"At this point, I might throw it up."

"Just a couple bites. Come on."

"Who's Naraku?" Kagome asked, pushing the dark strands of hair from her face as she settled against a throw pillow.

"No. Food first." He demanded. Knowing he wasn't going to let up, she gave in, grabbing the rectangular styrofoam container from the table and opening it. As she took a bite of the turkey sandwich, Inuyasha got up from his spot, fetching two water bottles from the refrigerator and handing one over as he sat back down.

"How do you know him?" She tried again after swallowing another bite, already feeling full.

Inuyasha sighed raggedly, leaning back against the couch cushions, allowing his weight to sink in. He knew she deserved the truth, but he wasn't even okay with the possibility that this man was what they were up against. Again. This wasn't your run-of-the-mill convict. He was a professionally diagnosed psychopathic serial killer that preferred torture over a quick death. 

"I had him prosecuted almost exactly nine years ago."

"So, this is all for revenge?"

"If it is him, then yes. Most likely. I was the lead investigator against him. He plead guilty by reason of insanity, and was sentenced to life in a psychiatric facility."

"What did he do?" Kagome scooted a little closer, pressing firmly against the pillow and the arm of the couch now, trying desperately to read Inuyasha's expression. She could tell he was apprehensive about telling her. Inuyasha was never one to open up about his work, what he’d seen, what he’d done. His job wasn’t glamorous or easy. It was a shit show most of the time. People got hurt. Men, women, and too often, children were violated, assaulted, and-or killed, and it was something Inuyasha knew he had to handle on his own. If someone wasn’t in his line of work, there was no reason they had to know the reason for the dullness behind any detectives’ eyes. Inuyasha had explained that to her before. To protect her.

"Kagome, maybe we shouldn't-"

"I want to know. I understand that nothing's clear at the moment, but don't you think I should get at least some understanding of what kind of criminal may be involved in this?"

"What did Sango and Hojo tell you?"

"Just that he's dangerous."

"Okay, look..." Inuyasha sighed again, leaning forward to brace his weight on his thighs, his elbows digging in slightly. “I’ll tell you, Kagome, but I want to know how you met him first."

Kagome shifted her gaze, her lips parting to say something before pressing them into a tight line, leaning back uncomfortably.

"You can tell me." He groaned, rolling his eyes. "I ran into Sango and Hojo downstairs, and they already mentioned who you identified and that coffee shop you go to too often. Just tell me the rest, already.”

"I don't want you getting in trouble."

"I won't. Now talk.” Inuyasha ordered.

“Well, I don't know that I've met Naraku, that's the thing. The guy I met is named Onigumo. He’s there almost every morning, and as far as I know, no one's ever had a problem with him. A part of me doesn’t want to believe they could be the same person. The guy Sango and Hojo showed me looked evil and like he was too busy being a criminal to even take care of himself. Oni seems like the exact opposite. I mean, he could just be a doppelganger, don’t you think?”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit too coincidental? Think about it, Kagome. Nothing about him has ever seemed off or remotely suspicious?” He asked skeptically.

“Not really.”

"Has he ever said or done anything that made you feel uncomfortable, or maybe asked any questions that were a little too personal?”

“Not to me. He talks to the baristas more than anyone. The most he’s ever said to me was your average small talk questions. There was a couple times that he bought me a coffee, and while it was surprising, it didn’t make me uncomfortable. Do you really think he’s a suspect, Inuyasha?”

“If you ask Hojo, he’ll tell you it doesn’t matter what I think. At this point in time, whether anyone likes it or not, we have to treat him like one. He could be just as innocent as you say, or he could be exactly who we’re looking for.”

Looks like she’d be making coffee at home more often from now on.

Kagome took a deep breath, pushing all discomforting thoughts to the back of her mind. He was right. Things were beginning to add up a little too well, but jumping to conclusions without proof would only make things worse. Until they could prove they were one and the same, Onigumo would stay his own person, and Kagome would keep her head on straight.

She could handle this.

“So,” She began, placing her hardly-eaten sandwich back on the coffee table. “Tell me about Naraku.”

Inuyasha’s jaw stiffened, ember eyes hardening, showing her the deep struggle he dealt with at just the mention of the name. His entire body seemed solid and tense, gaze aimed down at his hands. “His case was one of the toughest I’ve ever worked on. I interrogated him for eight hours straight before he gave us enough for a warrant to search his property, and then another six hours before he confessed and led us to the boy.”

“Boy?”

He hesitated. Not for her. For himself. He didn’t think that even nine years later he’d still be able to see Hakudoshi’s small, lifeless, battered body as clearly as he did the day they’d found him. They were too late. Several days too late. That boy went through hell, and there was nothing Inuyasha could have done to stop it.

“He’s a serial killer, Kagome. His final victim was an eight year old boy. At the end of that investigation, we uncovered twelve corpses of women and children. Polaroid pictures of these victims decorated his walls like fucking trophies. There was one picture, though… She was a little girl that had been missing for seven years. When I brought it up to question him, he fucking smiled and said "It’s about time."" Inuyasha paused, remembering the way Naraku’s repugnant stench burnt his nose, his horrifying smile, emotionless eyes, and careless shrugs. He’d had nightmares for months after the case was closed, his face burned into the backs of the half demon’s eyelids. “We… never recovered her body. Her parent’s had to relive losing their daughter with no closure all over again. And this bastard was able to get out of prison time because he was diagnosed a psychopath."

Kagome couldn't find the right words to say. Nothing seemed suitable for the emotion she could see vividly on Inuyasha's face right now. She couldn't fix it. Only making sure this man was still detained would put his mind to rest. Hopefully. She could see something more trying behind it all. Something that would probably never go away.

She reached out, resting her hand on top of his, his palm always shockingly warm, and without hesitation, he closed his fingers to keep her there. The look in his eyes was fierce. Warning. Protective.

"Kagome, when we say he's dangerous, we mean it. If he's out, if he's who we're up against, I need you to do everything I say, do you understand? I'm going to keep you safe, I swear, but I need your full cooperation.”

"You've got it," She gave his hand a squeeze. "I trust you."

His cellphone rang, a low vibration rumbling in his side pocket, the ringtone damn near close to silent, but loud enough for his ears to pick up perfectly.  He let go of Kagome, standing and walking behind the couches as he fished the device out.

"Yeah?" He answered, pinching the bridge of his nose as he listened to his partner give him the run down and the place to meet. "Again? Fine, I'll be there in ten."

He hung up the phone, shoving it back into his pocket as he went about his nightly routine, pushing the dark curtains and sheets aside to make sure every single window in Kagome's apartment was closed and locked. 

"I have to go. Call me if anything happens, alright?" Inuyasha said, coming out from her bedroom after giving the single window in there a thorough check.

"Is everything okay?" Kagome asked, standing to walk him out, meeting him at the edge of the couch by the entrance.

"Just a domestic call." He ran his fingers through her bangs before he could stop himself, tensing, retracting, and then opening up the door. "Keep it locked. I have my phone on me.”

She did as he said, standing in the entrance to gather whatever bearings she could. Her apartment was silent, minus the small hum from the T.V., the new arrangement of her furniture somehow making the place seem bigger. Emptier. She wanted it to seem like a new start when she’d finished, like no one had come in and touched everything, but it didn’t. Kagome couldn’t forget how her apartment looked that day, and she couldn’t stop thinking about what may have happened had she been home when he’d broken in. It still wasn’t disclosed how he'd done it in the first place. Did he have a key to her front door, or did he magically unlock it? No one could figure it out, and that was one of the main reasons Inuyasha had installed the chain. It would stall the culprit for a moment, hopefully long enough for Kagome to open a window and climb down the fire escape.

None of it was securing, though. As long as their stalker was out there, Kagome couldn’t even manage to feel comfortable in her own skin. She always felt watched. Followed. She never knew when more pictures would appear, if another bouquet of flowers would show up at her home, or if the incoming phone call would end up having his thick, deep, haunting voice on the other line. It was all in her head, but how could it not be? He’d been in her head.

Kagome went into her room, turning on the light on her way in, briefly stopping to look at her mattress. The comforter was pulled down at an angle, none of the ends tucked into the bed frame, the sheets wrinkled slightly, and her pillows were squished and crooked. Just as she’d planted them. She didn’t need questions. She just needed some sleep. Tearing her gaze away, Kagome opened her closet door, picking the balled-up bundle of blankets from the floor and taking them out into the living room, a tail of grey fleece dragging along the floor next to her feet, dropping them on the large couch before she stretched them out to cover the cushions. All lights were turned off in her apartment, the flickering hues from the television illuminating the area she’d been sleeping in since the night of the break in as she crawled underneath the blankets, resting her head on the small throw pillow and turning up the volume.

She was alone. She could see her surroundings if anything were to happen. She could hear constant talking to soothe her from thinking every creek was another attempt at him coming for her. This was the only way she’d been able to get any amount of sleep lately.

Psych Ward

Koga walked behind the guard, and Hojo behind him, their footsteps echoing in the long, narrow chamber they headed down, walls and floors an unnatural shade of white. The doctors, nurses, and guards all swore Naraku had been restrained for the past few weeks. For the first several years, he was a quiet patient. Didn’t ask questions. Took his medication without grief. Only ever talked to a couple other patients in the ward, and those occasions were few and far between. It wasn’t until a couple years ago that he started getting easily agitated. He often talked of getting revenge, bringing his doctor to up his dosage of medication. That didn’t stop Naraku, though. Soon, his eyes started to grow darker, more menacing. He wore a dangerous smile, even at meal time. He wasn’t able to talk to another person without screaming profanities and threatening their lives. A year ago, he almost slashed a guard’s throat with a makeshift, plastic shiv, bringing him to his first of many rounds of restrained isolation. He would be left in a room, his only contact coming to him in doses of medication and food- which he had to be hand fed because he couldn’t always be trusted. After a week, he’d calmed down. He seemed complacent and responsive. He communicated properly, moved slowly, and after months, hadn’t thrown a single tantrum.

Then, he killed a man. An unsuspecting patient. Even licked the blood from his fingers. From then on, he was restrained. Naraku would shout and scream, the leather restraints needing to be replaced several times over due to his consistent and powerful struggle. They’d up his meds, shoot him with sedatives, and enjoy the minimal peace it brought until he came to and started screaming all over again. It was inhumane to constantly keep him locked up, though, so the ward would let him occasionally roam with the necessary supervision. Sometimes he faired nicely. Other times, he ran amuck, kicked and swung, and bellowed that he didn’t belong there over and over until stuck with more sedatives.

“As crazy as this sounds, we have reason to think he may have escaped.” Hojo spoke, speaking loud enough to be heard from the back.

“You’re right, that does sound crazy. He’s watched like a hawk, detective. How the hell would he get out?” The guard said, turning down a hall, the corridor remaining just as narrow.

“Just show us and we’ll be on our way.” Koga ordered. As they turned down another corridor, two guards came into view, sitting in silence on a bench outside of a bulging, metal door. The guard that led them stopped, gripping the small knob to the sliding peephole and sliding the rectangular slab open.

“There.”

Koga looked in, noting the medium-length dark hair, and head that slowly, heavily rolled from one side to the other. He was strapped to a thin hospital bed, mouth parted while saliva dripped from the corners of his lips. The wolf demon looked back at the guard, eyeing him speculatively.

“Open the door, numb nuts. You know this isn’t a qualified visual.”

The guard did as he was told, shaking his head in a manner that said they didn’t know what they were in for. If his meds had worn off, screaming would ensue in a matter of seconds. Still, with the help of one of the other guards, the steel door was opened, and Koga and Hojo proceeded inward with caution.

Things were quiet. Naraku stilled, facing the ceiling with an empty stare. It was almost like his brain had dulled and his body was just hanging out, not quite noticing anything else happening around them. Koga moved closer, harsh scents radiating off of the man, two significantly standing out and, unfortunately, pulling him in. He didn’t know which one to concentrate on, both stenches burning his nostrils and causing his eyes to water. One was sulfuric and slightly musky, but the worst of the two smelled like something had rotted three times over. The baffling part was, it was painfully familiar. How could anything about this man be recognizable? He was restrained to a bed with minimal contact with other beings. It was a scent that was hard to forget, though, and it took him back to walking into Kagome’s ruined apartment.

But, how?

Koga analyzed the lifeless features of Naraku’s face, his deep blue eyes blinking so slowly you’d think time had lagged. He had a mole beneath his left eye, and his lips were chapped and pale. His hair was dark and unwashed, the oil causing it to lay in heavy clumps around his shoulders. Something wasn’t right here. Koga’s gut was screaming that something was so horribly and dangerously wrong.

“Hojo, hand me that picture of Naraku.” Koga said, holding his hand out behind him, not taking his eyes away from the motionless man. A ruffling sound was heard as Hojo revealed a eight-by-ten mugshot from the inner pocket of his coat, slipping the photo into Koga’s hand without a word of question. 

He placed the photo by Naraku’s head, comparing the two faces. The photographed Naraku had red, narrow eyes and no facial blemishes whatsoever. His hair was disgustingly long, matted, and pitch black. Koga dropped the picture to the floor, leaning a couple inches closer to take in the smell of the hospital gown the man was dressed in. It was the source of the pungent stench in Kagome’s home. The smell of his grease-slicked skin radiated the other vile scent.

They'd switched places.

"This isn't him." 

"What?"

Koga turned around, irate, launching at the guard, slamming and pinning him to the painted cinderblock wall, a look of fury blazing through his blue eyes. “This isn’t Naraku!”

“What!?” The guard choked, his neck pressed straight by the wolf demon’s forearm. Hojo stopped the other guards that tried to step in to help, blocking their way and hovering his hand over the gun strapped to his hip as a warning.

“How the hell did he escape while he’s under this vigilant watch you bragged about!?”

“I don’t… I don’t know!”

“You’re a fucking demon, aren’t you!?”

“Y-yes!”

Koga released the guard’s neck, grabbing him by the collar of his uniform and pushing him forcefully toward the restrained man. “Tell me what you smell!”

“He smells… rancid.” The guard was undeniably confused, not knowing what sort of answer the detective was looking for.

“He smells like two different people, you incompetent jackass! They swapped robes! Is that all it takes to get passed you lazy shits!?"

"I don't understand!"

"Well you should understand how much fucking trouble you’re all in!”

"No, this isn't possible!"

"They don't even look all that similar!" Hojo added, stepping inward to take his first thorough look at their unnamed patient. For even him, a human, to be able to tell the difference within a matter of moments, it spoke levels on how insanely blind everyone assigned to watch him must have been. There was no excuse for this level of audacity. 

“Look, I get it! He’s dangerous, but how the hell were we supposed to know!? Most of the time, it’s impossible to get close to the guy, he hides his face whenever someone comes near, our main objective when he's loose is to restrain him, and everyone smells disgusting here so our senses end up dulling for the sake of our own sanity!” One of the officers defended.

“Don’t give me that shit! None of that is a valid excuse for losing a criminal! You’ve had a stand-in taking his place for who knows how long and no one fucking noticed someone was missing? How the fuck does this even happen? Kiss your shields and the credentials of this hellhole goodbye!”

"How 'bout you stop yelling at us so we can call a code-"

“What for? We came because he was a pending suspect in our ongoing investigation. Naraku's been out for, at the very least, four months, so what purpose would it serve? What you need to do is get your captain down here. Now.” Hojo demanded.

Koga shouted some profanities off to the side as he pulled out his phone, dialing out and waiting impatiently until the call was answered.

"Inuyasha. You were right. He escaped."

[serpentupemotions-blog]

I’m With You | Sweet Pea x OC | Part Two 

Cora Chase doesn’t really know what to expect when she moves back to Riverdale, only that it’s been thirteen years since she’s been gone and she wants to rebuild her relationship with her father. She definitely doesn’t expect to be thrown into a friendship with Sweet Pea, the boy looking for a job at her father’s auto shop. 

A/N: Toni and Cheryl are in this. Please imagine that they are still the characters from early season 3, events that occurred during season 3 episode 9 and after just don’t exist in this universe. 

Warnings: Swearing and injury (accidental, not violent)

Word Count: 5k+

Thank you to @steve-harringtonnn for helping plan and edit this!

“Ready to go?” Joe asks, walking into the front office at 5:10. Ten minutes after everyone was scheduled to leave, enough time for him to wait for all the employees to clock out and say goodbye to each of them before leaving himself. Riverdale Auto Shop was the only auto shop in town and Joe could have made a pretty good living with his steady customer base. But he had always insisted that as the shop brought in more profit it would go to paying his employees higher wages over having more profit for himself. At the end of the day, when Joe was there to see everyone off, it was clear that he cared more about his employees and the shop than making money.

Cora looks up from the stacks of papers scattered on the desk. She hadn’t made any plans for the summer when she made the choice to move back to Riverdale. She figured she may not even stick around long enough to warrant making any plans. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that her dad was in over his head with the office duties of Riverdale Auto Shop. His filing system was tossing papers into stacks on the desk in hopes that he would never actually have to find them again. Cora had offered to help out, not realizing she would immediately land on the payroll. She was on day three of trying to sort it all out, each time she felt like she had made progress it seemed like the stacks were only growing. “I’m on a roll, I think I’m going to stay for a bit. I’ll see you at home though.”

“Well don’t stay too late, it’s not going to go anywhere overnight,” Joe says, heading towards the door.

“That’s what I fear,” Cora says, looking up at her dad with a smile when he laughs, heading out the office door.

A couple hours pass by quickly as Cora grows increasingly frustrated with the serious lack of organization. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to get louder the longer she sat there. The sun was beginning to set outside. A warm yellow glow cast through the front windows of the office, illuminating the fine dust particles hanging in air.

Finally, the ticking clock wears her down and Cora pushes the office chair away from the desk, standing up and walking to the wall it was hanging on with determination. Reaching up she leans on her tiptoes, teetering around before placing her hand against the wall to steady herself. Cora is barely able to grasp the bottom of the clock at its height. The weight of the clock is unexpected and the loose grasp that she has on the bottom of it sends it toppling to the ground. A slight shriek of panic escapes her lips as she jumps backwards, out of the way of the clock which lands on the ground with a loud thud and a shattering of glass. Cora’s heart races as she takes a deep breath. At least the ticking had stopped.

“Are you alright?”

Jumping again Cora turns towards the voice, seeing Sweet Pea standing in the doorway between the shop and the office, his hand holding the door open. Her hand flies to her chest to try to calm the hammering of her heart. “Yeah, I’m okay…it was just ticking so loud-,”

“So, you needed to destroy it?” Sweet Pea teases, stepping out of the doorway and letting the door between the office and shop swing shut. Walking over he crouches down, picking up the pieces of glass scattered across the floor.

“I can clean it up,” Cora says quickly, leaning down across from him to help pick up the pieces of the broken clock. She reaches out for a large shard of glass at the same time as Sweet Pea, fingers brushing against his. The unexpected contact makes her muscles tense, the fingers of her left-hand clenching slightly before quickly releasing again. Cora’s pain receptors work to drop the glass from her hand before her brain even registers what happened. Moments later the blood and searing pain draw Cora’s attention to the cuts on her palm and fingers. “Shit,” she hisses in pain, standing up quickly, all the glass falling back to the ground as her right hand instinctively cradles her left.

Sweet Pea places the pieces of glass into the nearby garbage can as he stands up with Cora. “Come on,” he says gently, placing his hand on her upper arm. His gentle touch guides her through the front office and into the bathroom at the back of the hallway between the office and shop. He quickly turns on the tap and wraps his hand around Cora’s wrist, guiding her hand under the running water. Cora avoids looking in the direction of the sink, not wanting to see the damage she had done. Her stomach churning slightly as a dizzy sensation washes over her body. “Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” she hums, lips pressed firmly together as she nods quickly. She wasn’t convincing herself that she was okay, and she was pretty sure she hadn’t convinced Sweet Pea either.  

“Grab some paper towels,” Sweet Pea tells her a minute later, nodding to the paper towel dispenser behind her. Reaching over Cora does as he says, glad to have something to do, even if just momentarily. Sweet Pea’s hand loosens around her wrist, turning the water off after she brings the paper towel to her hand, pressing it against her skin without looking at it. Sweet Pea washes his hands as Cora keep pressure on the cut, drying his hands and pulling a first aid kit from under the sink in the bathroom. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Cora whispers, watching Sweet Pea as he easily takes control of the situation, not hesitating as he reaches over and wraps his hand around her wrist, guiding Cora’s hand in front of him. Her eyes focus on the wall on the other side of the bathroom, not wanting to watch what was happening. Feeling it was enough.

“There,” Sweet Pea says and when she looks back, his hand is still wrapped around hers, cradling it gently. Cora swallows hard, heart hammering in her chest. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she says, nodding reassuringly. Taking a deep breath, Cora steadies herself a little. Maybe it was the cut on her hand that was making her heart pound and her legs feel shaky. But she knew that wasn’t the only thing to blame. “What are you even still doing here?” she asks, desperate to talk about something, anything, that could get her mind off the path it was headed in.

“I’m working on a friend’s truck, your dad said I could use the shop as long as I locked up on my way out.”  He was completely steady, his hand still wrapped around Cora’s hand, although he seemed to not even notice that. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

“I’m working on stuff in the office,” she says, realizing seconds after the words leave her mouth how stupid that sentence was. Of course that’s what she was doing, that’s the only reason she would be still be at the shop. This wasn’t like her. Flustered was not a state Cora was used to. She never had the option to let herself get flustered. She had to be bubbly, outgoing. She had to know all the right things to say, to have a plan and a plan B of what she was going to say if plan A didn’t go over well.

“Oh.” Sweet Pea laughs. “I thought you were just here doing some aggressive redecorating.”

Rolling her eyes Cora finally build up the courage to move her hand away from his, “I should go finish cleaning that up,” she comments, turning towards the bathroom door.

Sweet Pea shakes his head, using the fact that he was closer to the door to his advantage and stepping out before her. “You’re not going anywhere near that glass,” he chuckles, walking down the hallway and back to the office. “Just sit down and don’t touch anything sharp.”

Following him Cora sits down on the chair behind the desk, watching as he resumes picking up the larger shards of glass along with the broken clock face. “I’m not a child, I could have handled that.”

“I’m sure you could have,” Sweet Pea says, entertaining the thought as if she really was a child. “Next time you can try again,” he adds, looking over at Cora with a smirk that elicits an eye roll from her. Cora picks up a foam stress ball she had found on the desk while organizing, playfully tossing it in Sweet Pea’s direction.

Sweet Pea catches the ball smoothly, chuckling as he tosses is back in Cora’s direction. “Don’t be mad at me, you’re the one who couldn’t handle touching me.”

Cora can feel the warmth creeping up into her cheeks, accompanied by a feeling of embarrassment and stupidity. She was too old to be blushing at such a stupid comment. Even if there was some truth behind the stupid comment. “Shut up, asshole,” Cora grumbles through an undeniable smile as she watches Sweet Pea sweep up the glass shards.

Cora gets to her feet quickly when the office door is pushed open, a figure in a leather jacket stepping through it. “I’m sorry, we’re closed,” Cora states nervously, immediately regretting not having locked the door earlier.

“Relax,” Sweet Pea chuckles at Cora’s tense body language, “this is my friend, the one whose truck I’m working on.”

“Did my dad say you could invite people over? I’m going to have to write you up for this.”

Sweet Pea’s friend shifts nervously, stepping back towards the door. “Uh, no, he didn’t invite me. I invited myself in…I’ll go. Don’t write him up.”

Cora snorts, a smile spreading on her face. “I was joking,” she assures Sweet Pea’s friend. “Although he actually is going to get in trouble for breaking that clock...possibly fired,” Cora says with a playful smirk, nodding towards the garbage can sitting beside Sweet Pea that held the broken clock.

Sweet Pea shakes his head with a smile, leaning the broom against the wall. “That’s not the thank you I was expecting for saving you from yourself.”

“You’re Cora, right?” Sweet Pea’s friend asks, drawing Cora’s attention away from Sweet Pea.

Cora’s eyebrows furrow as she looks at him, glancing back to Sweet Pea out of the corner of her eyes. “Yeah…how did you know that?”

Sweet Pea suddenly clears his throat, reaching over and lightly hitting his friend’s arm. “Come on, man. I need your help if we’re getting your truck back on the road for tomorrow.”

“I’m Fangs, by the way,” Sweet Pea’s friend says, walking through the office towards the shop, a couple paces behind Sweet Pea. Fangs stops in the doorway, turning back to face Cora once Sweet Pea had put some distance between himself and Fangs. “Hey, tomorrow is three-dollar pint night at the Wyrm. Sweet Pea and I usually go with a few of our other friends. You should come,” he says before turning back around and walking into the shop.  

“Fangs seems nice,” Cora says, sitting beside Sweet Pea in the shade behind the shop during coffee break. Cora clutches her mug of coffee between both her hands, adjusting on the uncomfortable truck bench they were sitting on. At one point in time the old bench had been ripped from the truck it belonged to, fastened into makeshift outdoor seating. Joe was not the type to let things go to waste.

Sweet Pea nods, flicking the ash on the end of his cigarette to the ground. “Yeah, he is. He’s like a brother to me.”

“He invited me to the Wyrm tonight,” Cora says, unsure whether it was a piece of information that Sweet Pea already knew.

The hesitation that follows is enough to answer the question. Sweet Pea turns his head to the side to look at Cora. “Oh…like, uh,” Sweet Pea coughs uncomfortably, straightening his back as he sits up, “as a date?”

Cora laughs and shakes her head quickly. “No, not as a date,” she says, looking into Sweet Pea’s eyes. “Is he single though?” she jokes, smiling teasingly at Sweet Pea. “Why? Do you not want me dating your friends?”

“Date whoever you want,” Sweet Pea mutters dismissively, bringing his cigarette back to his lips.

Cora raises her eyebrows, giggling nervously. “I won’t go, it’s fine if you don’t want me to hang out with your friends.”

Sweet Pea turns back to Cora, a look of regret in his eyes. “No, that’s not…I didn’t mean that. Come, it’ll be fun…I want you to come.”

Cora waits a minute before breaking the slight tension with a smile. “Okay…but I don’t actually know what the Wyrm is.”

Sweet Pea chuckles, leaning over and pressing his cigarette into the coffee can half-full of sand. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Thank you,” Cora says as Sweet Pea hands her a pint of beer before gesturing for her to follow him through the bar. The Whyte Wyrm was not crowded, though for a Thursday night they had pulled a respectable crowd. Most likely the turnout a direct result of three-dollar drinks.

“Hey guys, this is Cora,” Sweet Pea says as he gets to a table tucked away in the back corner, gaining the attention of the people sitting around it.

“In the flesh,” a guy with an empty glass of beer in front of him mutters, muffled laughter ensuing as if nobody was aware the joke hadn’t been discreet.

“What-,” Cora begins to whisper a question about the comment to Sweet Pea before he proceeds with introductions. It wasn’t that loud in the bar for him not to have heard her. Cora shakes it off, focusing her attention instead on the introductions.

“Cora, this is Fangs, as you know, and Toni, Cheryl, Axel, and Finley, but they go by Fin.”

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Cora says, taking a seat at the table with Sweet Pea, placing her glass of beer in front of her.

“I’m glad you could come,” Fangs comments, but his eyes only remain on Cora’s for a split-second before he’s looking at Sweet Pea with a knowing smile.

“So,” Fin says, drawing Cora’s attention away from the silent interaction between Fangs and Sweet Pea. “You just moved back to Riverdale, right?”

“Fin,” Toni hisses under her breath, shooting a glare across the table in the direction of Fin.

“What?” Fin exclaims, hands flying up in defense, “are we supposed to pretend Sweet Pea hasn’t told us about her?”

Cora turns her head to the side, looking up at Sweet Pea as he avoids looking in her direction. She laughs softly, using her elbow to nudge his arm gently, his body tense as he looks in her direction with an uncertain smile.  

“Why?” Axel suddenly asks, lifting away the silent tension that had settled around the table. “Why would you want to move to Riverdale?”

“I just want to get to know my dad better, it’s been thirteen years since I’ve spent more than a few weeks a year with him,” Cora says with a shrug, fingers slowly turning the beer in front of her in circles.

“Where did you grow up?” Fin asks.

Cora shifts nervously in her chair under the full attention of the table. She didn’t mind being center stage, she did however grow anxious when the topic was her childhood. “I didn’t really grow up anywhere,” she says, trying to keep her tone casual. “My mom was a bit, uh…flighty, I guess you could say. We were almost always moving around, it was a miracle if I spent a full school year at one school,” Cora explains, laughing softly despite the fact that she had long ago realized how her mother’s lifestyle had seriously impacted her life in more ways than one.

“How’s the first week of your internship been, Fin?” Sweet Pea asks and Cora feels the tension in her body dissipate at the change in subject. She was grateful for the redirection of the conversation, though she wasn’t entirely sure if Sweet Pea was aware of what he was doing.

Fin shrugs, leaning back against their chair with a sigh. “Well I found out I’m really good at doing the coffee run and photocopying. Not changing lives yet.”

“You will one day,” Axel states. “You already have an internship and you haven’t even started your first year of university…I still think you should go into entertainment law though, forget criminal law.”

“No fucking way,” Fin laughs. “If anything, you make me not want to go into entertainment law, so I won’t ever have to work for you.”

“Hey! …. I would let you say you work with me.” Axel chuckles and pushes his chair back from the table, scanning everyone’s glasses before realizing he was the only one who had already finished their beer. “Lightweights,” he mutters before walking away from the table.

“Pool?” Fangs asks Sweet Pea, nodding in the direction of the pool tables.

Sweet Pea looks at Cora, hesitating to answer Fangs. “Are you asking my permission to go play pool?” Cora asks, laughing quietly.

“I, uh,” Sweet Pea chuckles, shaking his head as he pushes his chair back, getting to his feet. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Right,” Cora replies sarcastically, a teasing smile on her face as she watches him walk away, glancing over his shoulder, chuckling to himself when he hears her comment.

Cora’s attention is brought back to the table, listening to the conversation between Toni, Cheryl, and Fin for a moment before joining in. By the time Sweet Pea and Fangs have returned Cora had finished her beer, lost in the conversation at the table. Getting to know people was no longer a challenge for Cora. It had always felt like Cora was constantly in a state of having to make new friends with the way her childhood had been spent bouncing around from place to place.

“Do you want another?” Sweet Pea asks Cora, standing next to her at the table and pointing to her empty glass.

Cora shakes her head, looking up at him. “No, thanks. I need to be sober to beat you at pool. I’ve been told you’re good, but I think I can take you.”

Sweet Pea raises his eyebrows, the corners of his lips pulling into a smirk. “Willing to put some money behind that?”

“Oh, I’ve seen the payroll at work, I know how much you make, and I just wouldn’t feel right taking money from you,” Cora teases.

Sweet Pea chuckles, shaking his head as he stares down at Cora. He extends his hand to her with a smirk. “Come on then, show me why you’re so confident.”

Cora pushes her chair back, reaching out and taking the hand that Sweet Pea was offering. His hand was much warmer than hers, skin rough against her soft skin. The touch didn’t leave her feeling as flustered as the day before, the expectedness of it when she reached out for him taking away much of the power that it had over her the last time. Cora follows him a few feet to the pool table, their hands falling apart as soon as they get there, before either of them have to acknowledge it.

“Fuck, you’re good,” Sweet Pea comments after the game, taking the pool cue from Cora to put into the cue rack. “I really didn’t expect that.”

Cora laughs softly, watching Sweet Pea put the pool cues away before walking back in the direction of the table. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Pea.”

“So?” Axel calls when Cora gets a couple feet from the table. Sweet Pea hangs back a couple paces, watching her with intrigue. As Cora gets back to the table Sweet Pea changes directions, heading for the bar.

“It was close,” Cora tells him.

“Don’t care. Did you beat him?” Axel presses.

Cora nods, a smile on her face. Axel practically launches himself across the table, narrowly escaping knocking over many glasses, giving her an excited high five. “Finally, giving Sweet Pea some competition.”

Sweet Pea returns to the table, dropping into the chair beside Cora and setting another pint of beer on the table in front of her. His arm slings over the back of her chair, hand resting against the wooden frame. “Your prize.” Sweet Pea chuckles.

“My prize wasn’t just bragging rights?” Cora reaches over, picking up the glass and taking a sip, her eyes remaining on Sweet Pea.

“That beer is poor man’s hush money…he doesn’t want you to tell anyone you beat him, it’d ruin his reputation,” Fin chimes in.

Cora laughs softly, setting the beer back onto the table and reaching over, patting Sweet Pea’s thigh gently. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she tells him with a playful wink.

“I’ll play you if you’ll buy me a beer when I win,” Axel says, arms crossed in front of him on the table as he leans forward with a mischievous smile.

“It’s three-dollars, Axel,” Toni comments, shaking her head as Axel shrugs carelessly.

“And you’ve never beat me before,” Sweet Pea tells him, reaching into his wallet and pulling out a five-dollar bill. “I’ll add it to your tab, asshole.”

“I’ll buy you all the drinks you ever want once I get my first record deal,” Axel chimes, standing up from the table and turning towards the bar. “I swear,” he adds, calling it over his shoulder as he walks away.

Cora looks around the table, at the group of friends in front of her. Friends who had known each other for so long. Had grown up in the same town, the same one town. Saw each other go through awkward phases, embarrassing moments. Had supported each other in the worst times and celebrated the best. Cora smiles through the bittersweet feelings, lost in her thoughts for a few minutes before Sweet Pea’s laughter at something Fangs had said draws her back to reality, back to enjoying the night with these new people.

“Thanks for letting me crash your night with your friends,” Cora comments, sitting in Sweet Pea’s truck in the driveway of her house.

“They’re your friends now too.”

Cora is silent for a moment, trying to determine exactly how she felt about that, about all of this. About the strange feeling she had in her stomach, all of this was too good, too easy. “Well thank you, anyway. I had fun. See you at work tomorrow.”

“Cora,” Joe says, walking into the front office from the shop on Friday morning. Cora looks up from the papers on the desk she had been staring at for far too long, not actually doing anything with them. “I buy the guys lunch from Pop’s every Friday. Usually we rotate who takes care of getting orders and picking it up. I was thinking now that you’re here maybe you can deal with that?”

Cora nods, her head aching slightly. Maybe the fourth beer had been a mistake. “Yeah, I can do that,” she tells Joe with a forced smile. No way was she about to fess up to the fact that she was hungover and that the idea of going into the loud shop to collect food orders made her want to crawl into a hole. Picking up a sheet of paper and a pen she follows Joe back into the shop, instantly wincing at the sound of a drill echoing through the shop.

“Pea,” Cora wines as she gets to him, drawing his attention from his where his was standing over the open hood of a black minivan. “What do you want for lunch?”

Sweet Pea turns around, not hiding the smirk on his face as he looks over at her. “Feeling a little rough?”

“Just tell me what you want for lunch…actually, just write it down for me,” Cora says, reaching over and handing Sweet Pea the sheet of paper with orders scribbled all over it. “How are you fine?”

“I only had one drink. You had, what was it…five? Don’t worry, you’ll figure out how to do weekday nights out now that you’re hanging out with our friends,” Sweet Pea says, handing the paper back to Cora.

“Four,” Cora corrects, taking the paper back from him. “I only had four drinks, not five.”

Sweet Pea chuckles, shaking his head and turning back to the van. “Oh, right, you just can’t handle your liquor.”

Cora groans, rolling her eyes. “I’ll see you when I bring lunch back. Though I might just accidentally forget your order,” she says jokingly before turning around and walking out of the shop.

The bell above the door of Pop’s jingles as Cora walks through it, the diner almost completely empty. Cora walks to the counter Fangs was standing behind, wiping absentmindedly at the countertop. “You don’t look great,” Fangs comments when Cora gets closer, sitting down on one of the stools at the counter.

“I know,” Cora huffs, placing her arms on the counter and resting her head against them. “I don’t usually drink much, especially not when I have to work the day after.”

Fangs laughs, his hands on the counter as he leans against it. “Your order is almost ready.”

“No,” Cora whines, not lifting her head away from her arms. “I can’t go back already,” she jokes, slowly sitting up straighter. “They’re torturing me with the constant drilling and hammering and banging and crashing.”

Fangs walks around the other side of the counter, sitting down in the stool beside her. “Tell everyone I’m really sorry their order was late, it was just so busy here, we could barely keep up.”

Cora places her elbow on the counter, resting her head against it as she looks over at Fangs with a smile. “Thanks,” she whispers.

Fangs reaches over, straightening out a napkin dispenser sitting on the counter. “Well I doubt anyone will believe that Pop’s was swamped on a weekday afternoon, but don’t mention it.”

Cora laughs softly, her eyes falling shut for a few minutes as she relishes in the quietness of the diner. “How long have you and Sweet Pea been friends?” Cora asks, her eyes opening again to look over at Fangs.

Fangs shrugs, taking a moment to think before answering. “Eight years, or something. Why?”

Cora sighs, sitting up straighter and glancing at the clock on the wall. “No real reason,” she admits. “You two just seem so close.”

Fangs follows Cora’s glance and stands up, heading back around to the other side of the counter to get the order. “We are,” Fangs comments before disappearing into the kitchen and returning with two large paper bags of food. “Axel and I were talking about having a bonfire out at a quarry not too far from town this weekend. I’ll text you if we decide we’re going to, in case you want to come.”

Cora takes out the credit card her dad had given her, one of the business cards. “Sounds fun, I’d love to come,” she tells Fangs while paying for the order. “Talk to you later,” she says with a smile, taking the bags and heading back to her car.

“Took you long enough,” Sweet Pea teases, walking into the break room with a few of the other guys as Cora sets the bags of food down onto the table.

“They were just so busy,” Cora laughs, ducking out of the way of everyone making their way towards the food. “Outside?” she calls back to Sweet Pea who simply nods in response, not needing more of an elaboration on her question.

A few minutes later Cora is sitting out behind the shop, on the old truck bench. The day was especially hot, and she was trying her best to ward off the nausea that the drinks from the night before had bestowed upon her. Sliding towards the edge of the seat Cora shuts her eyes, resting her head against the back of the bench.

“Maybe you should go home early,” Sweet Pea suggests, sitting down beside her. The bench squeaking and shifting under his weight.

Cora opens her eyes slightly, rotating her head to look over at him. “No, my dad will know I’m just going home because I’m hungover. He knows I didn’t get home till two last night.”

“Well are you trying to make it seem like you’re not hungover? Because you’re doing a shitty job.”

“You know, you bought all my drinks for me last night,” Cora points out, sitting up straighter and opening her eyes fully. “Thanks for that, by the way. Actually, I’m not being sarcastic, even if that’s why I feel like garbage today.”

Sweet Pea snorts and shakes his head. “What was it? Twelve dollars?”

“Whatever, it was still nice of you. Just take my appreciation.”

“Fine, you’re welcome.” Sweet Pea chuckles. “I would love to spend twelve dollars on you again next week if you want to come.”

Cora giggles and shakes her head. “Three dollars, maybe. Or perhaps zero, I’ll just drink water next week.”

“You’re a cheap date, Cora,” Sweet Pea jokes. The smile on Cora’s lips fades as she looks over at Sweet Pea, whose demeanour also tenses. He clears his throat nervously. “I didn’t mean…a date, like, uh, my date. It’s just, you know…a saying.”

“Yeah,” Cora nods, “yeah, of course. I know,” she adds quickly. “Fangs said something about maybe going to a quarry this weekend, or something,” Cora says, swiftly changing the course of the conversation.

“The quarry,” Sweet Pea says, making Cora laugh.

“Sorry, the quarry.”

Sweet Pea looks at her, relief clearly written across his face that the conversation had been rerouted away from his stumbling explanation that he wasn’t suggesting they had been on a date. “Yeah, he texted me earlier about it. You going?”

“Are you?”

Sweet Pea nods, shrugging with one shoulder. “Don’t have anything better to do.”

“You’re really making it sound like it’s going to be a great time. But yeah, I’ll go. I broke the clock, so that ruined my plans of sitting around all weekend staring at it,” Cora jokes, remembering Sweet Pea’s comments from the first day they met.

Sweet Pea chuckles before sitting in silence for a second, nervously adjusting a couple times on the bench. “There’s a meeting with the Serpents on Sunday afternoon that I have to go to, but do you want to go see a movie at the Bijou with me after that?”

“Yeah, sure,” Cora says casually, shrugging as she pulls her vibrating cell phone from her pocket.

Sweet Pea nods slowly. “Great,” he mutters, watching her stand up as she stares at her cell phone screen.

“I have to take this, talk to you later,” Cora says, hitting the answer button on her phone screen. Pushing the back door to the shop open she heads inside, towards the front office.  

Sweet Pea watches Cora walk back inside longingly, as if he were watching any chance that he may have had to clarify that he had been asking her on a date disappear for good.

Thank-you for reading! Part three will be out next week. Hope you enjoyed!

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