#what if I pulled all the little battery tabs all at once????

[levisjinchuriki]

truly, madly, deeply - toji fushiguro

summary: since you left him, toji has been indulging in nothing but bad habits. he makes an impulsive decision stumbling home from the bar one night

warning: post-breakup angst, mentions of heavy drinking, depression, being numb, a whole lot of angst

it’s late—too late for toji to still be out. the bar is nearly empty, quiet except for the scraping sound of chairs as the staff begins their nightly routine of wiping tables and stacking stools. the bartender shoots toji an unimpressed glance as he sets down another glass of whiskey in front of him, grumbling about closing tabs soon. toji doesn’t argue, just wraps his calloused fingers around the glass and lets the amber liquid burn as it slides down his throat. it’s painful, but the familiar sting is something he’s come to crave recently. as much as it hurts, he tries to savor the taste before throwing some cash on the table and heading out.

it’s the kind of quiet that makes the weight in his chest feel unbearable, pressing harder against ribs that have long since forgotten what it’s like to feel light. 

he stumbles out of the bar, unsteady on his feet, muttering curses under his breath as he fumbles for his phone in his coat pocket. outside, the cold bites at his skin, the damp air clinging to him as the rain had never truly stopped. 

the screen glows dimly, the battery dangerously low, but it’s enough to illuminate the list of names he hasn’t touched in weeks. his thumb hovers over the screen, scrolling sluggishly past contacts that don’t matter. then he sees your name. and time stands still. 

for a long moment, all he can do is stare. his thumb trembles, hesitating, like his drunk mind is at war with itself. there’s a part of him that knows better, that knows he should put the phone back in his pocket and walk away. but the other part—the louder, more desperate part—wins. his thumb moves, and the call begins to ring.

once. twice. three times.

toji squeezes his eyes shut, already regretting his actions. he’s not your problem anymore. he lost the right to call you, to hear your voice, to ask for comfort. and yet, here he is, a fool hoping for a miracle at a time when no one should be awake.

“toji?”

he freezes. he hasn’t heard your voice in… how long has it been? the days have blurred together into a haze of alcohol and sleepless nights since you left. he grips the phone tighter, his throat suddenly dry.

“hey” he drawls. there’s a pause on your end. he cringes when he hears a muffled yawn from you. 

“it’s late. are you okay?”. your voice is soft, groggy from the sleep he undoubtedly pulled you from. his heart breaks at the sound of it. 

“yeah. -m fine. jus’….” he slurs. 

“toji… are you drunk?” your voice, laced with concern, strikes a nerve. you sound just as worried as it always did when it came to him, a tone he doesn’t think he deserves anymore. you’ve seen these parts of him before—the ones he hides from the world but somehow always let slip in front of you. 

“nah” he lies. “just a little… tipsy”. his feet shuffle clumsily against the wet pavement as he stumbles down the block. he feels everything and nothing all at once—silly, hopeless, in love, and heartbroken. 

“toji–” your voice is soft but unmistakably disappointed. it’s a tone he’s heard before, one that digs under his ski. he knows that sound. it’s the same one you used to have when he broke promises, when he let you down, when he let himself down.

there are countless reasons why you and toji aren’t together anymore—reasons that keep replaying in his mind whenever he has too much to drink. but none of those reasons stop you from caring about him, even now. and that makes it worse somehow.

“listen…” his voice drops lower, thick with the slur of alcohol. “i know it’s late. s’probably real stupid to call, huh?”. he laughs, but it’s half-hearted, a dry, almost painful sound.

your silence is heavy and suffocating. toji knows you’re probably shaking your head right now, caught between concern and frustration. he can picture it so clearly—how you’re probably biting your lip, wanting to say something but holding back. it almost makes him smile.

as the silence stretches, the sound of heavy rainfall in the background fills the space, a constant, rhythmic sound that matches the beat of his tired, aching heart.

“where are you?” you ask, your voice barely audible above the rain.

he blinks, his mind swimming in a fog that doesn’t seem to clear. he’s disoriented for a second, now realizing that he’s walked in the wrong direction. “why?” he mumbles, a slight frown tugging at his lips.

“because i’m coming to get you” you reply, your tone gentle but firm. “you shouldn’t be out alone”. toji closes his eyes for a moment, your words sinking in, a warmth creeping through his chest despite the alcohol and the cold rain. he hears the shuffle of movement on your end of the line, and he can almost see it—the way you’re probably slipping into those ridiculous bunny slippers he always teased you about. 

a small, tired smile threatens to break through as leans back against a lamppost. “don’t bother” he mutters, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “i’m fine”. another lie, but he doesn’t expect you to believe it.

“tell me where you are” you demand. he’ll take your tone over no contact with you any day. 

“always so good. so… responsible” he mutters, the words slurring as his mind drifts. “you don’t gotta save me, y’know? i’m fine. always fine” he drags out.

“toji, tell me where you are” your voice is stern. it’s the same tone you used when he was in trouble, the same one you’d use when he messed up, the same one you used when you finally told him you were done.

he slumps against the cold, damp wall of the nearest building, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. he mutters the name of the street, barely audible, his words jumbled and ragged.

“i’m on my way” you tell him. there’s a brief pause before you add, “stay there”. for once, he listens. toji just stands there– drunk, stupid, soaked and numb to the rain as it continues to hit him. 

he doesn’t know how long it takes before your car finally pulls up. the headlights shine bright, momentarily blinding him. he blinks a few times and there you are—stepping out of the car, pulling a coat around yourself and wondering how he’s been out here this long. you look at him, and for a split second, toji sees everything he’s been trying to drown out. disappointment flickers behind your eyes, sharp and painful. but there’s something else there too—worry. 

“toji…” you sigh, a sound filled with exhaustion. he feels it in his chest like a punch. he’s happy to see you, but upset that you’re out here in the storm, chasing after him like this.

“you didn’t have to come” he mutters, but even as he says it, he stands up straighter—forcing himself to make the effort, even if it’s not convincing. his legs feel heavy, like they’re made of lead, but he tries to pull himself together. he doesn’t want you to see how much he’s been drowning.

your gaze doesn’t miss anything. he’s drenched, soaked to the bone, his clothes clinging to him, but worse than that—he’s drunk. and sad. more sad than he’s let on, even to himself. he knows it. you know it. it’s clear to you both that he hasn’t been taking care of himself—not in the way you always hoped he would.

“get in the car” you say, the command simple but firm. your voice is steady, unaffected by the storm, and it somehow cuts through the haze of his thoughts.

he doesn’t argue. not with you. not when you’re looking at him like that, not when he knows you’re right, and you’ve always been right about him.

---

the drive is quiet at first. the only sound is the soft hum of the heat, keeping toji from succumbing to hypothermia, and the rain as it taps steadily against the windshield. toji sits slouched in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes half-lidded as he stares out the window. his gaze is distant, unfocused—lost in the mess of his own thoughts.

“you shouldn’t drink like this,” you say, breaking the silence. your voice is soft but firm. “it’s dangerous.”

toji doesn’t respond immediately. you can see the way his jaw tightens, his shoulders stiffen just slightly. he’s a big guy, tough, but even toji has his limits. he might not show it, but you know how close he is to the edge. and tonight, it’s clear that he’s just a few drinks away from being completely inebriated.

“don’t start with me” he mutters, his voice rough with frustration. you’ve heard that tone before—the one he gets when he’s pushed, when he knows he’s in the wrong but doesn’t want to hear it.

you sigh quietly to yourself, knowing exactly where this conversation is going. you’d always had a habit of acting like his mother, trying to take care of him, trying to get him to listen to reason. it’s inevitable, really—toji always acted like a child in so many ways, and you, stubborn as you are, always fell into the role of the one who tried to save him.

“how many times have i—” you begin, but he cuts you off before you can finish.

“i know!” he snaps, his voice sharper than he means it to be. “i know, alright?”

the words hang in the air between you, heavy with the tension that always lingers when the two of you argue. you’re quiet for a moment, the only sound now the swish of the windshield wipers fighting against the rain.

you grip the steering wheel a little tighter, steadying yourself. the urge to push, to argue further, is strong, but you know better than to start that fight now. the last thing he needs is more words thrown at him, more of your frustration tangled up in his guilt.

right now isn’t the time to argue.

"then why?" you ask quietly, your voice barely rising above the sound of rain hitting the car.

toji presses his head back against the seat and lets out a humorless laugh. “why not?” he replies, his words slurred but sharp enough to sting.

you furrow your brows. he’s being difficult, like always—pushing you away with his deflection, his refusal to take anything seriously. “that’s not an answer” you say, glancing at him briefly before returning your eyes to the road.

toji turns his head to look at you then, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the car. the streetlights outside streak shadows across his face, highlighting the dark circles under his eyes, the weariness etched into his features. he looks tired—not just from tonight, but from everything.

“i don’t owe you an answer” he says after a moment, his voice quieter now.

it’s true. he doesn’t owe you anything, not after everything. not after the way you left, after the way you shattered him. you feel a pang of guilt in your chest, sharp and unforgiving, but you push it down.

“i’d still like to know” you admit, your voice softer now, almost hesitant.

he doesn’t respond right away. instead, he turns his gaze back to the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. the silence stretches between you again, heavy and unyielding, but you don’t press him further. you’ve learned by now that toji won’t be pushed into answers he’s not ready to give.

the road ahead blurs slightly through the rain, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ll ever be able to bridge the distance between the two of you.

he scoffs, turning his gaze back to the window. “what’s the point?”. it’s not a question meant for you—it’s one he’s been asking himself for a while now. you chew on your bottom lip, trying to think of what to say next, though you’re not sure anything will make a difference.

“you don’t always have to carry everything by yourself” you finally sigh.

toji snorts, a bitter sound that cuts through the tension. “yeah? and who’s gonna help me? you?”

the sharpness in his tone catches you off guard, and you flinch despite yourself. his words hit harder than they should, not because they’re unfair, but because they’re true. you left. you made the choice to walk away, and now you’re here, pretending you can fix something that might never be fixable.

he notices. if there’s one thing toji’s always been good at, it’s noticing things, even when he’s drunk and falling apart. he exhales heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. “sorry” he mutters, his voice quieter now. “i didn’t mean that”.

you know he didn’t. toji’s harsh words were never the ones that hurt the most—it’s the truth buried in them that stings.

“it’s fine” you reply quietly, your gaze fixed on the road ahead. but it’s not fine, and you both know it.

neither of you says anything for the rest of the drive. the rain continues to tap against the windshield as the distance between you grows wider.

---

toji doesn’t move after you park your car. he just sits there, staring blankly at the dashboard like it holds answers to questions he’ll never ask. his shoulders are slumped, his jaw tight. even with the alcohol dulling his senses, his thoughts refuse to let him rest.

“you wanna go inside?” you turn to look at him, suppressing the urge to reach over.

he blinks, the question pulling him back to the present. “yeah” he mutters, but his body remains rooted to the seat.

you don’t rush him. moments like these are rare—when toji lets you see him vulnerable. it’s heartbreaking, and it makes you ache in ways you thought you’d forgotten.

instead of pressing him, you wait. he’s always been a man who needs time to gather himself. and tonight, for whatever reason, he’s letting you stay long enough to witness it.

eventually, he exhales, a slow, shaky breath that seems to release some of the tension coiled in his chest.

finally, toji looks at you. really looks at you. his eyes are glassy, the alcohol making them more vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time.

“you’re too good for this” he says, his voice heavy with sadness. it’s not just the words that hit you—it’s the way he says them, like he’s admitting something he’s been too scared to face. for the first time, toji acknowledges there’s something wrong with him. that something is his fault.

“for what?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“for me” he says almost defeated. “i’m no good. i’m just… this” he gestures vaguely at himself, his hand falling back to his side as if the effort of even that small movement is too much.

it’s clear in the way he’s looking at you that he means it. that he’s thought about this, felt it deep in his bones. you’re not sure if he’d ever admit it sober, but tonight, it’s out there in the open.

you don’t know what to say to that. words feel inadequate, like they’ll only make things worse. 

“you should get some rest” you whisper instead. “it’s late”.

toji releases a breath, his gaze shifting to your apartment building. he’s been here countless times before. but it’s different now. where he used to feel at home, he suddenly feels like a stranger. 

“okay”. his footsteps echo softly behind you.

when he walks in, all the memories come rushing back. the faint scent of the candle you always light fills his nose. the throw blanket draped over the couch is in the same place it’s always been. even the little details—the spaces in your home where you’d made room for him—are still there. his boots still sit by the door, his favorite mug in the cabinet, the sweatshirt he thought he’d lost folded neatly.

you lead him to your room without a word, offering him a towel and setting a pair of dry clothes on the bed. they’re his– clothes he left behind when things fell apart. you didn’t have the heart to throw them out, and he didn’t have the heart to come back for them.

“you’ll get sick” you mutter, setting a black shirt and grey sweats on the bathroom sink before turning to leave. you always fussed over him like this—still do, even now. toji doesn’t know what to do with the tight ache in his chest. he wants to cry.

by the time he emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed in warm clothes, he hears the hum of the dryer from the hallway. of course, you’d snuck in while he was washing up to scoop his sopping clothes off the floor.

in your room, you’re finishing fixing the bed, smoothing the sheets and adding extra pillows—just the way he likes. it doesn’t escape him, the way you still remember these small details.

“i can take the couch” he says, his voice low and reluctant.

you shake your head, dismissing the offer as you grab a pillow and blanket for yourself. “sleep” you say firmly, leaving no room for argument.

he hesitates for a moment, but the exhaustion weighing on him makes it hard to fight back. his body aches for rest, and though a part of him wants to address the unspoken words that hang heavy between you, he knows it’s not the time. 

“we’ll talk later” you whisper as you step toward the door, your hand brushing the light switch.

toji watches you for a moment, standing there in the dim glow of the hallway. his throat tightens, and he wants to say something—anything—but no words come out. instead, he nods silently as you turn off the light and leave him alone in the room.

“thanks” he murmurs, his voice so quiet it’s almost lost in the stillness of the room. but you hear it.

toji lies awake in the bed you once shared, staring at the ceiling. the familiarity of it all threatens to undo him—the soft sheets, the faint scent of you lingering on the pillow. it’s overwhelming. 

he wonders, not for the first time, how someone like you ever loved him. the thought twists in his chest, sharp with regret. he thinks about how things ended, how he pushed you away, and yet here you are—offering him kindness he doesn’t deserve.

the bed feels empty without you beside him, but as his heavy eyelids finally close, he clings to the comfort of your lingering presence. it’s enough, for now, to ease the ache as he drifts off to sleep.

---

to be continued... thank you for reading!!!

part 2

[kichimiangra]

Just googl'in something...

[jjkilll]

-—--—-—-✫ 4ME 4ME | JJK ✫-—-——-—

— pairing | bestfriend jk x y/n | friends to lovers

— summary | jungkook involuntarily signs you up to be his wing-woman at an upcoming party, and you're saying all the wrong things.

—  warning | smut, choking, spit, cum, cum-eating? fingering kinda, unprotected sex (please for the love of god, use a rubber), drinking, ass slapping (like once), and dirty talk? really explicit (i feel idk)

— word count | 2.5K

— song | 4Me 4Me - Malcolm Todd

Jungkook never drank or smoked too much at these parties, he had to ensure you and him made it back safe every time you went out. So, this night you were especially drunk and high, the music was loud, and dancing, and drinking games had you so preoccupied you forgot truly why you were here. Which was your plan exactly.

You and Jungkook grew up together, your mothers were best friends and you two did everything together. Christmas, Halloween, New Year, Easter, you name it, you and Jungkook matched somehow. You also developed a crush on Jungkook the summer you turned 13. It was weird, you found his cute instead of gross. You always wanted him around, you made sure it was that way. You used to tell girls who thought Jungkook was all the weird shit he'd do.

"He snores... loudly."

"He chews with his mouth open."

"His farts are deadly... you wouldn't last two minutes."

It wasn't until you're mom overheard you once and asked why you say those (very true) just personal things about him. You told your mom you might have a crush on him and she warned you to prioritize your friendship and follow your heart.

Except following your heart led you into being a wing-woman for the man you were in love with. Not fun. Jungkook walked up to you as you danced. "What? Can it wait until this song is over?" You shouted over the loud Tove Lo blasting from the speakers. "No. I need to talk to you." He protested grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the crowd. "Y-you are a party pooper, what couldn't wait until a-after my song?" you stutter drunkenly. "My god, you smelled like vodka," Jungkook says handing you some water. "I don't need that shit Jungkook, I'm having fun." You pout, he rolls his eyes dragging you away and sneaking into you the library of the home.

"Holy shit it's fire in here. Wait, Whose house is this even?" You laugh at yourself nearly falling to the ground. "Can you pull it together, please? Jesus Christ. Taehyung said you were drunk but I didn't realize you were this drunk."

"Is that why you had him follow me around? Why were you keeping tabs on me?" You ask standing as your laughing fit wears off. "To make sure you don't tell any more girls that I snore." You went quiet unsure of what to say and you felt your tummy turn. "What do you mean?" you asked acting clueless, sobering yourself up.

"Don't ask stupid with me, Y/n. Stella told me you told her that I snore and I always put my batteries in upside down. The shit is just really hard to read, okay?" You swallow.

Jungkook is a handsome man, anyone could see that, he was sweet and caring and truly the only reason chicks weren't all over him was you. They never liked the closeness and when they got over your relationship with Jungkook, it felt like you were losing him. He was the most important person in your world. You've never known a good time without him. So you started being weird and telling little shit about him that would turn them off sooner than later, giving them a chance to accept it.

Truth was you loved his snoring, it was like weird white noise for you. When he put his batteries in wrong he'd always ask you. So the thought of him eventually asking someone else hurt you more than it should have.

You sit on the long L-shaped sofa that takes up the right wall.

You look up noticing the skylight "I'm sorry I just can't do this." You say. Quickly Jungkook sits beside you, "What's going on with you, Y/n? You've been asking weirdly since I asked you about the whole wing-woman thing. You could've told me no, I would've never made you do it." He says.

"No, I'm sorry for what I'm about to say. I said all those things. I did. I don't feel bad though. It's selfish I know but I want to be with you. You make me crazy, and if I hadn't listened to my mother when I was thirteen I wouldn't even have known this pain. I can't sit back while you fall for someone that's not me, because I fell for you years ago. Seeing you with other girls hurt me to no end. When they hurt you I felt a rage that I couldn't even express because all I know is I would give you every ounce of my love if it killed me." You breathed deeply realizing you had begun the cry. He hasn't looked at you, you realized that too.

"and you- you can't even look at me. You don't look at me, I can't even understand that, Jungkook. So I'm sorry I hurt you because never want to hurt you, but I'm not sorry for not wanting to lose my best friend."

For the first time in a long time, Jungkook looked at you as you sobbed in front of him. "I just wanted some of you before you choose someone whose not me." Your tears blurred your vision.

"Y/n...Why didn't you say anything to me?" He asks wiping the tears from your face. "Because what good was it going to do, you don't even see me that way. I want to do things that friends don't do." You spoke slowly sniffling through your tears. "Like this?" He says grabbing your chin and placing a soft kiss on your lips. You nod eyes wide and lips unsure of what to say next.

You kiss him desperately. Hungryily, his hands find your waist pulling you on top of him. "I used to jerk off to you." He says breathily breaking the kiss."What?" you chuckle.

"It was your 13th birthday and you had on this pink bikini and I instantly got a boner. So when I told you I needed to sleep for a bit I went upstairs and jerked off the thought of you in the bathroom." You look at him a little shocked. He scans your body.

"13-year-old me would have never ever believed this." He spoke grabbing at your waist. You kiss him lightly, "I only asked you to do the wing-woman thing, because I was hoping you'd find someone just like you." He kisses you deeply. Your lips part, still close enough he whispers, "So I could stop dreaming about you." You kiss him roughly, nibbling at his bottom lip. "You can have me... all of me." You slip the straps of your dress down revealing your tits. "No more dreaming." You whisper.

"Fuck, you're going to be the death of me." He kisses down your neck, kissing your nipple before he swirls his tongue around your erection bud. You gasp. He looks up at you and you leak. His eyes are lustful, no, hungry. He craves you.

"Please." You whimper. "Whatever you want, baby. I'll give you whatever you want." He growls hungrily. You lift his face and kiss him. "Fuck me." You whisper against his ear. He groans at your lewdness. "That mouth is gonna be the death of me." He speaks before leaving a hickey on your neck. "Wait til it's wrapped around your cock." You say breathlessly. He moans, "Fuck." He quickly hikes up your dress pulling it over your head. "You are so pretty, gonna ruin your little body." He says before slapping your left ass cheek and squeezing it. You whimper at the sting from his slap.

He slips his hand in your panties running his fingers over your slit. "You're so wet for me, baby." He says looking at his fingers covered in your slick. He puts his fingers to his lips before he sucks them. "mm taste so fucking good." He groans. "Wanna taste?" He teases. "Kook please." You grind against him whining. He kisses you deeply. "Shh, I got you baby."

You lean back undoing his belt and pants, shuffling them down. You stop before pulling down his boxers. Jungkook looks at you. "What's wrong?" He asks. "Nothing I... I just wanted this for so long." You admit. "You don't have to wait anymore, baby. I'm all yours." If your panties weren't soaked before they're drenched now. You peck his lips before stroking him through the thin fabric of his boxers. "Fuck." He huffs, watching your ever move.

He assumed Jungkook had a big dick, you heard the girls he'd bring home beg him to fuck them harder. But his dick, his dick was thick and long. You weren't sure he'd fit. You pull his boxers down watching his cock spring free. You hadn't seen a lot of dicks before but, Jungkook's dick was the prettiest you'd ever seen. His pretty pink tip leaked pre-cum.

"You're so big." You mumble. You gather spit in your mouth before letting it drip onto his cock. "My fucking god." He whispers. You stroke him slowly. You feel your pussy pulse, the thought of his cock stretching you out made you feral. Before you can even realize Jungkook flips you over so you're underneath him. He quickly pulls down your panties. Your pussy on full display. "My god, even your pussy is pretty." You whine bucking your hips up. "I'm sorry baby, I'll stop teasing."

He rubs the tip of his cock between your fold, and you moan as he rubs against your clit. He slowly sinks into you and you shiver. You moan clenching around him. "Fuck Jungkook my god," you scream. He bottoms out, filling you up nicely. You think you could come before he even moves. He pulls out before thrusting back into you at a moderate pace. He grunts fucking into you. "This is the best pussy ever. S-so fucking tight."

You claw at his back, "Choke me, Daddy." You whine. Jungkook throbs at the nickname you've given him. His hand wraps around your throat as he fucks into you harder hitting the spot that makes you see stars. You mumble out a string of unintelligible words as the knot in your tummy loosens. "Like when I fuck you like this, hm? When I choke you?" You don't respond too lost in the pleasure. You moan and whimper, "Awe, too fucked out you can't even answer me. Tightly little pussy." He spits on your clit rubbing circles on your clit.

"Fuck! Fuck! Daddy, I'm coming. Just like that, please just like that." He fucks into you at the same pace. "Cum on my cock baby, that's it." You fall apart moaning almost pornographic like. "You sound so pretty cumming for daddy." Your eyes roll back as he fucks you through your orgasm.

"Oh my god, it's too much." You say coming down from your high, still sensitive from your first orgasm. "I'm so fucking close. Where?" He asks quickly. "Inside, cum inside of me." Just like that Jungkook paints your walls with his cum. He moans emptying himself inside of you.

He pulls out slowly watching his cum drip out of you. "Jesus." He breathes out flopping beside you. You gather some of his cum on your fingers and lick them clean. "Mm, yummy." You say with a chuckle. "You are so fucking dirty, I'm jealous of all the guys you fucked before me." You laugh. "Well luckily," You start sitting up, "You get to have me forever." You say with a smile. "That's only if you want." You add, not wanting to add any pressure to your newfound relationship. "Fuck yeah, I want you!" He says looking at you as if you'd just grown three heads. "We can get married tonight, If you want an Elvis or MJ, I'm fine with whatever." He jokes as you laugh climbing on his lap. He grabs your waist pulling you in for a small kiss. "Will you um..." He looks you in the eyes.

"What?" you ask. He looks a little nervous. "I'm still me Jungkook. I'll always be your best friend." He smiles. "I know, that's why I want to do this right. I was thinking maybe... I could take you out." He breathes out. You kiss his nose, "I would love to, Where to?" You ask cutely. "I was thinking somewhere downtown?" He asked. "What!? No, Kook, that's too expensive. You don't have to-" He stops you. "No, when have we ever gone out to a nice dinner, just us?" You hum. "See. So, I'm taking my pretty girl out." You smile. "Say it again." You say.

"Say what?" He asks tucking one of your loose curls behind your ear. "I'm yours." You speak simply. "My beautiful girl. All mine."

You look up, the ceiling is glass and you can see the moon. Big and bright it shone through. "Look." He tilts his head back. "Wow, that's beautiful." He looks back at you.

"Y/n?" You hum looking back down at him. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting." You kiss him. "I love you." He admits.

"I love you more." You say with a smile. "I'll love you forever." He says. "Also I love when you call me Daddy. That shit is really hot." You hit his chest before standing up. "Let's go, Taehyung is probably on the roof looking for you." He laughs.

You fix your dress and walk over to Jungkook, brushing the wrinkles out of his shirt. "You look good in this. I meant to tell you earlier." You say looking at his outfit. "Thank you, baby." He says with a smile. You grab his hand walking to the door. "You're welcome, Daddy." He turns pulling you close to him. "Maybe we should stay in here a little longer. Round 2?" You laugh pushing him away. "Come on, Kook."

You rejoin the party and run into Taehyung in the hall. "Where were you?" He asks drunkenly. "Uhh..." Jungkook stalls looking at you. "The library. Cool ceiling, you should check it out." You say, "Oh! Where's the bathroom." Looking to Jungkook as he points to the door down the hall. You let go of his hand going into the bathroom.

Taehyung looks to Jungkook, after watching you walk away. "You two slept together." He states, already sure of the truth. "What?!" Jungkook almost screams. "The hand-holding, s-she finally doesn't look annoyed with y-you, and the fa-act that you have that stupid grin on your f-face." He slurs. "No-" Taehyung puts his hand in his face before he can continue. "Shut it. Y-you can't lie to me. Now i owe Jimin $100."

"You bet on if me and Y/n would have sex?" Jungkook asked shocked. "Duh, I said it would happen next week. Fuck Jimin and his g-good timing." He says before walking away.

You walk out of the bathroom and find Jungkook standing in awe. "What?" you ask. "They bet on if we'd have sex." You laughed throwing your head back. "Doesn't shock me. I bet that you'd sleep with Jackie next door. I got $200 that day." You reminisce. "You're terrible." He jokes. "But you love me." you say walking away.

"That I do, baby."

✫ -----------------------✫

a/n: I saw Malcolm Todd is April and I'm just missing him so this is a random song I'm sorry, not sorry. Please enjoy, liking, reposting and requests are so very greatly appreciated.

[harmonicsys]

Hotswap

A doll with changeable crotch bits shows them off to a curious girl.

CW: genital swapping, body transformation themes, unexpected penis knot, D/s themes

"Oh, that? That's the parity dick," it said.

"Wait… what do you mean, parity dick?" she asked, incredulously.

The doll smiled. "It's a standard part of a RAID5 dick array. See, this doll has several regular cocks, and then a parity one so that there are always an even number of cocks thrusting at any given time."

"But… can you use the parity dick for thrusting, too?"

The doll giggled and replied, "Of course, as long as the parity algorithm is honored while in RAID5 mode."

"Wait," she said, the look of awe continuing to grow, "There are other modes?"

"Yes," exclaimed the doll, "and it's all hot swappable, every single slot! Here, let this one demonstrate."

The doll tapped out a rhythmic pattern on each of its thighs, causing panels to slide away to reveal a battery of swappable genitalia that was stored beneath the surface. From its leg compartments, it pulled out a couple different vulvas and a big penis with a rounded area near the base.

"This one disabled RAID5 mode, so now it's safe to swap more than one slot at once. Let's see, we'll put the knotty cock in the middle, with some pussies around it---" started the doll.

"Naughty cock? What makes that naughtier than the others, besides its size?" the girl asked.

"Knotty, actually; the base swells up to prevent its removal during the last stage of intercourse. But," the doll smirked, "that does make it a little naughty, especially if someone isn't expecting it." The doll giggled again.

The girl blushed hard, seemingly at a loss for words.

Looking over her, the doll remarked, "If this is all too much for you, then---"

"N-no, it's not," she stammered, "it's okay, I just… I can't imagine the cost."

"Well," replied the doll, "this one's Owner settles the tab."

"So… if someone wanted to have hot-swappable crotch gear…"

"Then they'd need to be very rich or exchange their freedom for being owned by someone who would foot the bill."

The girl looked at her feet for a second then spoke nervously, "So your owner…"

"Already has the paperwork ready for you to start filling out."

Surprised washed over the girl's face, "But how did they---"

"No one makes a request like yours, to see exactly how this type of doll's body works, unless they already want this. This one assumes you've already put your affairs in order?"

The girl blushed again. "Yes… I mean, I was hoping, on the off chance that there was a possibility that I could start, um, undergoing…" she trailed off.

"That one has nothing to be nervous about. Whenever it is ready, it can proceed through the door at the other end of the room to meet this one's Owner and start its paperwork."

After a few deep breaths came the reply, "Okay. I am r---this one is ready."

"This one knew you would be," said the doll.

Taking the hand of the soon-to-be doll in its own, it led it to the door and on to its destiny.

[capesandshapes]

Side note if you're one of the thousands of people suffering from a hibernate/away mode problem on windows 11 and that was later introduced with a windows 10 update for god knows why

You know, where you close your laptop or it goes into sleep mode and inexplicably won't wake up no matter how much keyboard crashing and button pressing you do, forcing you to hard off and restart all programs/potentially lose files.

The bane of my existence, really.

It's a mixture of five thousand problems forced along by the bios updates. It's an absolute nightmare and despite multiple attempts to command prompt my way out of it, I had to go the slow and shitty way in the end so here's how you do THAT:

Most people fix it is by going into the power options menu and disabling hibernate/away mode in the advanced power menu

This works for a total of five minutes-- roughly the amount of time that it takes windows to push out a new shitty update and ruin everything.

So to make it last a little longer so that you can experience the joy of being able to close your computer until the next bios update rather than getting fucked over every update

Restart and boot up the BIOS, expand power management and enable USB wake support or untick, save, and then return and enable USB wake support before saving once again🙄

exit BIOS, boot normally.

Pull up device manager.

Scroll down until you see a section marked universal serial bus controllers. What you're looking for is probably going to be named USB Root Hub rather than "-insert processor name- us bullshit". Right click on that generically named motherfucker, properties. Near the end of the tabs in the property menu is the power management tab.

Unlock allow computer to turn this device off to save power.

Now if you're lucky and God is willing, it might be fixed

If the world is shit and you have one of the windows laptops that requires this, you might run into a problem where you still need to go into device manager and click your keyboard, open properties, and then select the power management tab-- not everyone is going to have this tab because fucking windows man.

From there in the little power management section of your menu, pick a box that looks roughly like "allow this device to wake computer from sleep"

Hopefully, your computer is now fixed and you can close it without it going into a shitty lower power state and refusing to wake up now.

The general belief seems to be that since windows pushed through updates to prolong battery life but doesn't really give half a shit as to what computers are running windows or how they're built, when the USB hub is sent into low power mode it pretty much turns off your mouse, key board, and all ports because of how they're connected. In most cases, the power button continues to work to some extent in this state, giving you a taunting white or green light and letting you know your work is waiting for you, but won't wake your PC and is only useful to give your computer the one finger salute and hard off it.

Windows has known about this problem since roughly the launch of windows 11 and proceeded to give absolutely no shits, even passing along a similar update to windows 10 laptops. Every now and then when you get an update related to the bios or with something that even vaguely looks like the word power it will re enable this nonsensical hell state and you will have to do this again.

I got a laptop with Windows 11 for an IT course so I can get certified, and doing the first time device set-up for it made me want to commit unspeakable violence

Windows 11 should not exist, no one should use it for any reason, it puts ads in the file explorer and has made it so file searches are also web searches and this cannot be turned off except through registry editing. Whoever is responsible for those decisions should be killed, full stop.

Switch to linux, it's free and it's good.

[casitafallz-a]

Decay AU | Birthday time!

Decay knew something suspicious was going on whenever she did her typical routine; Wake up, morning run, food, study for an upcoming assignment or just study, two hours without her prosthetics on to let them charge which was nap time… then lunch…. Then afternoon workout with both hand-to-hand and weapons training and more study of one subject or another, or in most cased get dragged into whatever bullshit her group found until dinner and bed.

Decay hadn’t seen or heard a whisper of even Wanderer or Watcher Mirabel by the time her studying was up which alone was mild suspicious because both or one of them always found an excuse to bother her. What made the warning bells go off was when Pariah and Stray seemed to be absent from their typical places and routines.  

So she went looking.

The Watcher Casita was by no means small, a fact that even Decay often had to check her map to make sure she was on the right floor, even a year in, because it’s size was so vast. It was practically a castle that stood over the districts of the Watcher AU. A lot of space to cover and unfortunately, the Casita was by no means willing to help her so it had to be a manual hunt.

Decay hadn’t gotten to Communications before Tomadas Luisa roped her into helping with her move ammunition crates at the shooting range.

“Has Pariah and Stray been sent onto assignment?” Decay asked boredly, checking through the box with the barcode reader and opened it up once it flashed green. “Like, normally they send me a message on my phone or through the comm-system when they do… I haven’t seen them all day..”

“Err…” Tomadas frowned hesitantly, “They’re….fucking?”

Decay turned and have her variant-sibling a look of disgust and the woman herself looked appalled by her own words. While the two weren’t their parents, they looked like them and anymore more than hand-holding or a soft peck, they didn’t need to see.

Plus, Stray and Pariah made it very clear they weren’t a thing. Stray was 35 while Pariah was still very in her 50s. If Stray ever wanted to get that far, they’d have to wait until he was at least physically older by another 10 years. He had tied his aging process to his Au than take a seal like she had.

“Wanna…run that by me again?” Decay asked, pulling out the magazines and set them into the racking. “

“Can I?” Tomadas looked relieved, “I meant to say, they’re in medical. Rana’s having her little heart checked.”

“Great. Once I’m done with this box, I’ll go right down.” Decay watched as a nervous sweat broke across Tomadas’s for head, watching as she got a little more anxious with each mag she placed.

“I think that was this morning. I don’t know if they’re still there!” Tomadas called as the last mag was placed. “No point bothering Watcher Julieta…”

“Tomadas, like my own Luisa, you’re absolutely shit at lying…which is ironic given you were raised in this AU and by officers.” Tomadas had been kidnapped after her 5th birthday and lost from Encanto until a group recovered her but it had been a rush to leave so they took her with them. Decay didn’t know the details but did find the differences of each world fascinating to have tabs on a few people.

Tomadas looked mildly offended. “Rude.”

“and you lot are hiding something from me. So, gonna spill or should I continue my investigation of why my crew are AWOL.” Decay raised an eyebrow, tilting her head towards Casita’s way.

Tomadas sniffed indignantly and began to reorganise her work which was her answer.

Decay abandoned her to it and padded back to the looming form of Casita.

She felt the familiar buzzing against her shoulder before she sighed and headed towards her room instead; Her arms needed to charge, great. The last thing she wanted was to be caught mid-way when the batteries died on her. Her prosthetics seemed so much heavier when unpowered.

Wrinkling her nose, Decay floated into her room and almost died of a heart attack.

“SURPRISE!!”

Decay screamed, fell back and was bordering almost seeing god before Wanderer’s seemed to appear and caught her by the shoulders.

The urge to clock someone in the face was never higher; sharply throned plants and cactuses spread with a wave of multi-coloured plants and it took a moment to see Pariah holding onto 16 month Rana, the toddler herself trying to get into a small wrapped gift but her baby fingers weren’t strong enough to break through. Stray was next to Watcher Mirabel and a few familiar faces of her friends and Hallow looking majestic with downing bottle of whiskey and a party-hat shamelessly

“Are you okay?” Pariah was the first to ask, her lips pressed into a concerned line.

Decay sucked in heavily before she laughed, “So this is where you lot buggered off too…”

“Yeah, had to make it a surprise.” Wanderer thumped her on the back playfully, pulling her away from her door and inwards to the group before people began to get seats, “after all, given how your 23rd birthday was last year… your 24th had to be better.”

“24th? Wait, it’s my birthday?!” Decay realised before it all clicked into place before the idol giggles and laughter echoed.  “Oh things make so much more sense now!!”

“Yep and this time, you’re under a boulder and no one’s gonna be amputating limbs this time around so that’ll be a plus.” Wanderer added, “Can’t set a bar lower than 23rd.”

“I didn’t get a 22nd birthday party.” That had been a minor debate in the family but there had been a small meal to acknowledge it at the very least. Nothing major.

“As I said, can’t set a lower bar than 23rd.” Wanderer pressed on happily.

“We got you presents” Watcher Mirabel spoke, drawing her attention to the rest of the room. “You can open them now or later…. Once you’ve recovered.”

Decay scoffed, shaking her head. “I thought I died and went to the architects….”

“Deecaay!!” Rana’s little voice and a sudden tug to her knee pulled her attention down to the toddler who held onto her shirt jacket in a tense grip with the gift in the other hand. “Got pressy! Open!”

“Ahh, for me?” Decay knelt down, balancing on the balls of her feet, smiling at her variant-sibling with warmth as the tot nodded viciously.

“Paper shiny.”

“Can you help me open it? Sticky tape isn’t easy to open with metal fingers, Niñita.”

Rana happily complied, taking a moment to get passed the tape before the gift fell out. Decay caught it before she smiled at Pariah’s handwriting. Rana cooed and sat down and began to play with the paper for her fun so Decay rose to her feet.

“It’s a few seeds from Floran-14’s AU.” Pariah spoke, her hand coming to her shoulder. “A few plant that doesn’t allow for magical growth.”

“I’ve heard of them…” Decay gasped, “They’re so rare.”

Floran-14 was a restricted AU, a world that was all but plant-life and animals; it’s AU was set close to a sentient void that radiated off magical energy from recycled debris fields; to why there was no intelligent life or an Encanto. All the plants had evolved to resist magical touch that had initially been damaging them like radiation; no plants could be grown other than naturally. It made the rarest and diverse plants that most, if not all Aus had and to get seeds…. That was touching.  

“Thank you so much!” She’d definitely do her study on them first before she set to get them into the ground.  Decay jumped up and hugged her tightly, pulling back as the sharp inhaled but Pariah smiled at her, her human hand cupping her cheek.

“You’re welcome. I look forwards to seeing that become of them.”

One by one, Decay hugged her friends after she opened her presents; a new knife holster from Wanderer (throwing knives included), Watcher had gifted her a new phone, Stray had given her a new set of clothes, with detachable sleeves, Tek had upgrades for her arms ready, Distort….considered his mere presence a gift while Hallow had arranged an trip to an AU of Delacor-2, an AU that hosts annual hunger-game style challenge but without the death.

All in all, Decay found herself enjoying the party and relaxed making flower crowns and smearing Rana in coloured pollen to spread around.

[alt-rose]

21 - colson baker

colson baker imagine

21 - Pete Davidson takes you out to celebrate your 21st birthday after SNL, and you make a new friend. 

“this week a midwestern teenager was arrested for kidnapping livestock and hiding them in their neighbor’s garages. here to comment is our resident young person, (y/n) (y/l/n).”

you took a quick breath before you were pushed toward the weekend update desk. you rolled to a stop next to your castmate Michael Che before you dove into your bit with him about cows and the midwestern community.

you made your SNL debut last season when you were only nineteen. you quickly took over Pete Davidson’s former role as the “resident young person” among the cast, and you had formed a fast friendship with him over the last year and a half. he had been eager to take you out with his friends so that you could experience the true nightlife that New York could offer, and now that you were finally turning 21, he could do just that.

after you exited the stage from your weekend update skit, Pete caught you in the hallway as you headed back to your dressing room to get ready for your last skit.

“hey, next weekend,” Pete started catching your attention. “do you want to go out and celebrate your birthday? Maybe get shitfaced?”

“I don’t know. who’s gonna be there? I don’t really want to feel obligated to entertain people while you’re getting me drunk,” you said apprehensively.

“don’t worry. it’ll be a bunch of people you don’t know so you don’t have to worry about anything other than getting drunk. I’ll keep an eye on you, of course. keep you away from the creepos.”

“how thoughtful,” you say throwing yourself into one of the hair and make-up chairs. “but sure, it sounds fun.”

“great. I’ll get the party lined up for next Saturday after the show.”

you threw him a thumbs up before your attention was directed toward the make-up artist giving you an 80s look for your next skit.

--

“this week our very own (y/n) (y/l/n) turned 21. here to comment on finally becoming an adult is our resident young person, (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“hey Colin,” you call back to him when you roll up next to Colin Jost at the weekend update desk.

SNL did a similar skit when Pete turned 21 so the writers felt it was only right to do one for you.

“hey (y/n), how does it feel to finally be 21?” he asked tapping his pen on his desk.

“it feels great Colin. you know, it’s a bit of an adjustment, but I’m having a great time.”

“right, you’re finally legal now. you can do adult things.”

“yeah, now I can buy tropical fish at Randy’s Pet Shop by my apartment building. I have a fish named Chet now. he’s pretty cool.”

“wait, you have to be 21 to buy fish from Randy’s Pet Shop?”

“yeah, Randy’s got this weird thing,” you paused to make eye contact with Colin. “anyway, besides that, I don’t really feel like much of an adult, Colin. I’m like five-foot-something and still resemble a fourth grader. like look at me, Colin. I was given a kid’s menu at TGI F.R.I.D.A.Y.’S last week. I am not an adult.”

Colin laughed before looking at you. “(y/n), you really don’t think that you’ve grown in this past year? you haven’t felt like an adult in anyway?”

“no.”

“well, I think you have. you stopped ordering chicken fingers at every restaurant we go to for cast dinners. I think that’s a big step into adulthood.”

“yeah, well, joke’s on you because I have a bag of dino nuggies hidden in the back of the breakroom fridge.”

“what?”

“yeah, I just take a few out and wrapping them in tinfoil and heat them up in the microwave for four minutes-”

“wait, hold on, hold on,” Colin laughed waving his hand to stop you. “you put the nuggets in tinfoil before you put them in the microwave?”

“yeah, you just wrap them up in the tinfoil, and they cook really well. they get all sparky and stuff. they taste a little smokey though”

“you’re the reason why the breakroom microwave is always broken?”

“what?”

“(y/n), you’re not supposed to put tinfoil in the microwave,” Michael chimes in.

“you can’t put metal in the microwave. did you not know that?” Colin asked.

“what?” you put on the confused act.

“(y/n) (y/l/n), everybody,” Colin shouts turning to the audience and ending your segment on the update.

“who let me be an adult?” you laugh shouting to audience as Colin pulls you into a side hug. the crowd cheers as you wave to them.

“for weekend update, I’m Colin Jost.”

“And I’m Michael Che. GOODNIGHT.”

you continue to smile and laugh with both of the guys as the camera panned away from the stage and the recording light turned off. when you made it off stage, you started to head back to your dressing room. you had finished your last sketch of the night, so you planned on getting ready for your night out with Pete and whoever else he invited.

--

an hour later, you were crammed in the backseat of an uber next to Pete.

“where are we going?” you asked him as you check the battery on your phone.

“this club a few minutes away. it’s pretty lowkey. everyone’s going to meet us there.”

“okay, sounds good-”

“it’s actually right here,” he interrupts stopping the driver. “thanks, man.”

Pete opened the door of the car and climbed out. his lanky form towered over the small sedan. he leaned down to help you scoot over to open door. you took his hand as you scooted over to the door before sliding out of the car as best as you could in your mini skirt.

after both of your feet successfully hit the pavement, you adjusted your black leather mini skirt from riding up before you fixed you black turtleneck to make sure that it was still tucked into your skirt.

“ready?”

“yeah, let’s go.”

--

after making it past the bouncer, Pete led you over to the bar before dropping you off at a bar stool. you watched as he made his rounds saying hi to everyone. it was almost 1 am now. you began to wonder how late you were going to be out tonight.

you suddenly felt two hands on your shoulders causing you to slightly jump.

“you ready for your birthday drink?” Pete shouted in your ear.

“yeah, let’s do it,” you laugh turning to look at him.

“can we get four shots of Fireball?” he shouted to the bartender.

“four?” you shout over your shoulder at him. “I though you weren’t drinking.”

“I’m not. you are. you’re downing all of those.”

“oh god.”

he slapped his hands on your shoulders once more. “you got this, baby.”

the bartender placed the shots in front of you as Pete opened a tab.

“we doing this?” you asked staring at the shots.

“let’s do it.”

you grab your first shot before raising it as a cheers to him. you brought it to your lips and downed it. you felt it burn as it slid down your throat. you squeezed your eyes shut as you finished it.

“that was strong,” you cough.

“next one.”

you down the second one, and then the third one shortly followed. the cinnamon flavor left a burning sensation in your throat.

“last one, last one.” Pete shook your shoulders cheering you on.

“fuck this.” you downed the last one.

--

an hour into your party, it was clear to you that you were feeling very drunk. you had spent the last hour dancing with strangers on the dance floor before slipping back to the VIP section Pete had for you and some of the people at the party. after your first couple shots, he had introduced you to a few people, but at this point, you can’t remember your own name so how could you be expected to remember theirs.

you’re currently sipping on a tequila sunrise now that Pete decided that you handled enough straight liquor. you were slightly leaning on Pete as he stood next to you while you were sitting on one of the barstools for the high tabletops.

“yoooo,” you heard someone call as they approached your table. “dude, whassup.”

Pete leaned over to bro-hug someone before that person began to lean on your table next to Pete. you could hear their muffled conversation as you played with the straw in your drink.

“so what’s this party for anyway?”

“it’s a birthday party,” Pete yelled over the music.

“who’s birthday?”

“hers,” Pete said motioning to you causing you to look up at Pete and his friend. “this is my castmate, (y/n). she just turned 21 so we’re celebrating.”

your eyes met the stranger’s, and you smiled. he was pretty with his bleached-out hair. you gave him a small wave.

“I’m Colson,” he said extending his hand to yours.

“(y/n),” you said taking his hand.

“can I buy a drink for the birthday girl?” he asked flashing you a smile.

“sure,” you said before taking the last sip of your tequila sunrise.

when he brought you back a drink, you stood over your shoulder placing the drink in front of you.

“let’s fucking party.”

“okay,” you shouted before knocking back the drink and taking his hand to lead you to the dance floor.

--

you spent the rest of the night with a set of hands planted firmly around your waist. when you had finally had enough of drinking and dancing, you made your way back over to the VIP section with your six-foot shadow following behind you with his hands still on your hips.

“I’m tired,” you say to Pete as you approach your seat the table. your shadow rested against your back as you hopped up onto the barstool.

“do you want to head home?” Pete asked leaning close to you and your shadow, Colson.

“kinda,” you said leaning your head back on Colson. your drunken state couldn’t careless that you were practically laying against a total stranger.

“do you even have a place to stay tonight?” Pete asked Colson as he looked up from you to the tall guy behind you.

“not really. I could just get a hotel,” you could hear Colson tell Pete.

“you guys can just crash at my apartment. I have a couch and a guest bedroom,” you interrupt as you stare off into space.

“are you sure?” Pete asked.

“yeah, let’s just go home.”

“cool with you?” Pete asked Colson.

“I’m cool,” Colson answered.

10 minutes later, the three of you were sitting in the backseat of a black car, which you assumed was an uber. you head rested against someone’s shoulder as you began to close your eyes.

--

you felt someone jostle you awake. you opened your eyes to find that the uber had parked in front of your building. Pete was leaning in the car once more to help you out. you blinked the sleep out of your eyes as you took his hands. he helped you out of the car just as he had when you got to the club. you felt a pair of hands gently adjust your skirt, and you whipped your head around to find Colson standing behind of you.

“your skirt was riding up, baby,” he said to you while he tapped your hip.

“thanks,” you murmur.

you slapped your keys into Pete’s hand as he went to buzz you in with your code to the building. you began to walk to the door with Colson resting his arm around your shoulder. he kept you walking upright as you both entered the building. you took the elevator up 12 floors.

when you finally stepped foot into your apartment, you stood in the doorway and ripped your heeled boots from your feet. Pete dropped your keys into the bowl by your door, and Colson closed the door behind the three of you.

you turned around to the both of them, almost tripping over your own feet.

“kitchen,” you said pointing to the kitchen, “couch,” pointing to the living room, “guest room,” pointing to the guest room, “bathroom,” you pointed to the bathroom door. “there’s extra blankets in the closet,” you said pointing to the small closet by the bathroom. “help yourself to anything. I’m going to sleep.” you gave them a salute before turning around to your bedroom.

they laughed lightly as you slammed the door behind you.

as you stumbled into your room, you plugged your phone into the charger on your nightstand. after your phone was charging, you slipped your skirt and turtleneck off before slipping on an oversized t-shirt. you quickly wiped off your makeup before falling face down in your bed.

--

the next morning, you woke up with blurry eyes and a fog in your head. you blinked a couple times before rolling over to fall back asleep. you had your eyes closed as you tried to fall back asleep.

that’s when you heard a crash in the kitchen.

you whipped yourself out of bed, and you grabbed the baseball bat from under your bed. you took a deep breath before throwing your bedroom door open. with your bat raised, you lunged out of your bedroom at the intruder.

instead of the intruders, you found Pete and some guy standing in your kitchen messing with your pots and pans.

“jesus fucking christ, Pete, what the fuck?”

“oh, sleeping beauty’s up,” the guy called waving his arms out to you with your skillet and spatula in his hands.

“who is this? and what the fuck are you doing?” you shout annoyed at Pete.

“This is Colson, my friend who you met last night, but guessing from your reaction, you don’t remember much. you let us stay over, and now we are making breakfast,” he said before going back to whatever he was doing.

you felt Colson’s gaze on you. you dropped your bat on your shoulder as you met his stare. you glared into his eyes as he intensely stared back into yours.

“nice bat,” he said still staring.

“thanks, I played softball,” you glared back. “I’m gonna go put some clothes on.”

“you don’t have to,” you heard Colson call back to you as he watched you retreat to your room. from your room, you could hear Pete yell at him in the kitchen.

you laughed lightly as you threw on a pair of sweatpants and put a bra on under your oversized shirt. you took a scrunchie and threw your hair up before heading back to the kitchen.

you plopped yourself down on one of the counter stools in your kitchen.

“what are we eating?” you ask the guys.

“I’m attempting to make pancakes with whatever you have,” Colson called back to you.

“fantastic,” you reply.

“how’s your head?” Pete asked from his spot at the counter.

“it’s not bad. I don’t feel very hungover,” you replied.

“that’s surprising seeing how much you drank last night.”

“what even happened last night?”

“you drank a lot. you danced a lot. then, Colson showed up. then, you drank and danced some more with him.”

“wow,” you mutter staring off into space before you felt Colson staring at you again. you met his eyes before speaking up, “I apologize for that and whatever I did.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said before flipping a pancake.

“it was so funny. you were like one of those velcro monkeys wrapped around him all night,” Pete laughed.

“don’t make fun of me,” you yelled before whacking Pete with a dish towel on the counter. “you’re the one who got me drunk.” they both laughed before you looked up at Colson once more. “I am definitely apologizing for that.”

“I don’t mind. I liked being your arm candy for the night,” he said plopping a pancake on a plate.

you rolled your eyes before opening your phone. “what’s the damage? was there any paparazzi last night?”

“weelllllll,” Pete drew out.

“what?” you whine dropping your head a bit.

“there’s a few from when we left the club, and they followed us back to your building so there’s a few from then too. there’s two articles running already.”

“just because we went out for drinks?” you ask motioning between you and Pete.

“no, because we,” Colson motioned between the three of you. “went out for drinks.” he dropped a plate in front of you. “apology pancakes for the tabloids.”

“how thoughtful,” you murmur. “what did the articles say?”

“nothing just speculation,” Pete said taking a drink. “it’ll go away. you just might want to keep away from Colson for a while.”

“you’re kidding,” you said opening your phone before typing your name into safari.

you scrolled through the new section before you found the pictures from last night. in the pictures, Colson had his arm wrapped around your waist as you were shielding your eyes from the flash. you assumed these pictures were from when you left the club. the other pictures were of the guys helping you out of the car. Colson was standing behind you, towering over you with his arm around you. it totally looked like the two of you were a thing with how touchy you two were. you were not a touchy person when you were sober. you could only assume that the alcohol turned you into a velcro monkey as Pete put it. you briefly skimmed the articles only to find that they were speculating that you and Machine Gun Kelly, Colson Baker, were in a relationship.

“Machine Gun Kelly. you’re Machine Gun Kelly?” you ask him, squinting your eyes at Colson.

he and Pete laughed at you.

“I was wondering if you were going to put it together,” Pete laughed. “that took you forever.”

“well, I’m sorry, but I was drunk.”

“you knew I was friends with MGK,” Pete laughed.

“I didn’t think you were going to invite him to my birthday party.”

“so I take it you’re a fan?” Colson said raising an eyebrow at you.

“I’m not actually. I haven’t even heard your stuff. I’m not really into rap,” you said to him.

“ouch. that’s rough,” he sighed.

“sorry,” you shrugged. “thanks for the pancakes though.” you give him a smile before taking a bite.

Pete’s phone buzzed before he got up from his stool.

“shit, I have to go. I have to take my mom to the airport. are you going to be okay if I leave you?” Pete asked staring at you.

“yeah, I’ll be fine. tell your mom hi for me,” you said looking up at him.

“okay, bye kid. happy birthday.” he wrapped his arms around you.

“thanks for getting me drunk. I had fun,” you said patting his arm.

“yeah, I know,” he called back as he headed to your door.

“be safe,” you shouted before he closed your front door, leaving you with Colson in your kitchen.

you and Colson took a pause as you both watched the door. he was the first to break his gaze as he turned to you. you both made eye contact as you both stared at each other.

“so,” you started.

“so,” he replied leaning down on your counter to stare at you at your eye level.

“so.”

“so, what do we do now?”

“we can watch tv, or you can tell me about last night,” you suggest before shoving another bite into your mouth.

you were not bashful when it came to eating, and you were not deterred by Colson staring into your eyes as you chewed, even if he was really pretty.

“what do you want to know?” he said. his gaze never leaving your eyes.

“we seemed very touchy in those photos,” you hummed taking another forkful of pancakes.

“can’t help that your kinda hot.”

“wow,” you scoff leaning back from the counter. “this is hot for you,” you say shoving the pancakes in your mouth.

“very,” he laughed.

you peered an eye up at him, skeptically. you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. there was no way that someone as pretty as he was would be interested in you.

he extended his hand out to you face as your eyes watched it move to your lip. he flicked a piece of pancake from your lip before smiling at you. you heart practically jumped out of its chest.

fuck. you were crushing.

--

the two of you hung out and talked for the next hour. you both flirted a bit back and forth. you felt this undeniable connection to him, and it made you feel sick. you were notorious for running from people and your feelings. you always chickened out before saying anything to them, and then when you finally got the courage to, that person had already found somebody else.

“fuck, I should go,” Colson said throwing his head back on the couch from where the two of you were sitting. “I don’t want to though.”

“I need to shower and get started with some pitches for work tomorrow,” you say lightly placing your head on the back of the couch.

“okay, I’ll go.”

“I’ll walk you down.”

he took your hand in his as he got up from the couch. he pulled you up as he grabbed his jacket from where it was placed on the arm of the couch.

you grabbed your keys before he pulled you out the door. you closed the door behind you before the two of you waited for the elevator.

you laced your fingers with his as you stepped into the elevator. here goes nothing, you breathed.

“I had a lot of fun with you,” you say staring straight at the doors of the elevator.

he turned to you with you fingers still locked with his. “I really like you.”

“cool, cool,” you say as you saw the number on the elevator tick to floor 6. you turn to him. “I should give you my number.”

he slipped you his phone, and you typed your number into his phone before handing back to him.

“cool, cool,” he started as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

1

2

3

you counted before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to your height. you stood on your tiptoes, and you placed your lips on his. he grabbed your face as he kissed you back.

the elevator dinged as the doors opened. you broke away from him as you shoved him out the doors.

“call me sometime,” you say as you stood alone in the elevator.

“aye aye captain,” he saluted you. he moved back toward the elevator before pulling you back to him. “one more for the road.” he kissed you until you couldn’t breathe.

you finally pulled away for air while he held his hands on your head.

“you’re fucking gorgeous.”

“you’re not too bad yourself. now go so I can work,” you said fully pulling away before the elevator alarm was set off. “Bye Colson,” you said hitting your floor button.

“Bye (y/n),” he waved as the doors shut.

--

as you made your way back to your apartment, your phone dinged.

unknown number: hi velcro monkey

you rolled your eyes as you entered your apartment. this man was going to be the death of you.

.

.

.

first Colson Baker imagine. feel free to send requests. - rose xx

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #15: Slow Night: Mirio Togata

In which you and Mirio aren’t having much luck on patrol together.

Characters: Mirio Togata x f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), Pro Hero Mirio, aged up characters, size kink, smaller reader, tummy bulge (? Idk what it’s called), vaginal sex, cock riding, police scanners, rooftop sex

Notes: I’m back on my Mirio bullshit today. Only this time, it’s thirsty, thirsty, thirsty. Today’s prompt was ‘size difference,’ and I... ah, what was I saying?

I’m horny for Mirio and frankly, it shows.

Kinktober Masterlist

“Okay, that’s it. I’m calling it.”

It’s a chilly night for patrol, but the air is clear as a bell. You’re squatting on the flat rooftop of some corporate skyscraper, puffing frost into the air and huddling together around the tiny police scanner. It’s been silent all night- so silent that, at one point, you had to check the batteries, just to make sure you weren’t missing out on the action.

Tonight’s the first cold one all year, and you’re starting to wish that you had thought to transition into your winter gear. At least that suit comes with gloves- your fingertips are like icicles as you rub your palms together.

“Yeah.” Mirio shifts next to you, irritatingly warm and cheerful as always. He runs like a radiator no matter what season it is. He lifts a hand to rub the back of his neck and gives a deep chuckle. “I guess it’s been pretty quiet for a while, hasn’t it?”

You deadpan. “Not a single call. Not one. We could’ve been halfway through the new season of Schitt’s Creek by now.”

You’ll never honestly resent this part of your job. Pro hero work isn’t always about flashy rescues and daring escapes. Sometimes, it just means being there, in case. But you can’t deny that a night as dead as this one puts you in a sour mood.

“Don’t worry,” he assures you, slipping a weighty arm around your shoulders and giving you a squeeze. “We got all day tomorrow, I promise. We’re taking Saturdays now, remember?”

He drops a kiss to the crown of your head, sending a pleased warmth through your entire body. The lines between partner and lover had been blurred a long time ago, but you usually try to keep them separated when you’re in the field.

Still, you suppose there’s nothing typical about tonight.

“Cold?” He nudges, and you scoot a little closer. You’re starting to shiver.

“Aww,” he continues. “C’mere, little moonbeam. Lemme warm you up.”

He tugs you into his lap and rubs your upper arms, doing his best to warm you up. Then he pulls you tightly against his chest, hanging his chin over the top of your head and curling his body around yours.

“You’re so tiny,” he laughs, drawing a hand up the column of your back. “So small. I bet I could pick you up with one hand.”

You can feel the heat beginning to rise on your cheeks and the temptation to scramble off his lap and call it a night spikes. There’s no denying the difference between you. It’s not like it’s difficult, to be smaller than Mirio.

“You can,” you remind him. “You have.”

Not your proudest moment.

He reaches over and gives the swell of your hip a little pinch, making you yelp and squirm against him. His expression is masked in the shadowy darkness, but the glint of his eyes is unmistakeable.

You’re in trouble.

“Let’s stay out here a little longer,” he murmurs. His hips tilt up against yours as he buries the tip of his flushed nose into the crook of your neck.

“Babe…” you protest, but the urge to fall in with him is quickly outgrowing the urge to resist him. His warm breath puffs over your skin and he presses his lips to the point where your neck meets your shoulder, smiling against you.

“C’mon,” he grunts. “I’ll keep you warm, princess. I promise.”

He slips a gloved hand under your chin, tilting your face up as he straightens. He leans in and captures your mouth- slowly, at first, building the urgency naturally. It’s something he’s always been good at, playing it cool with his kisses. It’s how he always gets you, too. You find yourself leaning in to match his desire before you even realize.

Your hands curl in the front of his suit. His palms slide to your hips as your knees fall to either side of his lap. He slides his fingers back, groping your ass. He gives it a little slap.

“Miri-“ you start to gasp, but he shuts you up with a bruising kiss.

“Hero names, princess,” he rasps. “I’d hate for someone to be listenin’ in on us.”

“Can it, Lemillion,” you growl back. You take his jaw in your hands and kiss all the smugness from his face, grinding your hips down against him and making him groan, making his cock stir to life down the left leg of his tight suit.

He lifts his hand to the zipper at your throat and starts tugging it down. As he gets the tab to the bottom of your sternum, he pauses, pulling back from your mouth to hook his fingers in the edges of your suit and yank it down off your shoulders, exposing your bare chest in the chill of the night.

“Thought so,” he growls, leaning in to nose at your collar bone. “Been lookin’ over at you all night, princess. You really didn’t think I’d notice that you left your bra at home?”

He’s palming one of your breasts now, his gloves cool, but not nearly as chilled as your own fingers. Your fingers dive spitefully into his perfectly styled hair, unafraid to muss.

“So perfect,” he whispers against you. “You fit right in my hand. Like a little peach.” He gives the flesh of your breast a squeeze before his mouth descends on you. He licks and sucks your nipple into his mouth, taut and tender from the chill. From his teasing.

You barely feel the cold on your back, squeezing your eyes shut and clinging to him. Your hips buck forward and you find the strain of his erection, sliding the apex of your thighs shamelessly along it as his arms slide around you. His face is buried in your chest right now, nipping across your breasts and sucking at your other nipple like a man starved.

“Let me stretch you,” he grumbles, eagerly pushing his hips into your sloppy rhythm. “Let me have you, princess, right here. Let me see you.”

You tear the zipper the rest of the way down your front and help him shrug you out of the clingy fabric. He peels it down to your thighs and gets to work on his own clothes, digging his fingers under the top portion of his suit to dislodge his pants and shove them down. His cock springs into the space between you, thick and long and flushed like the rest of him. Your mouth goes dry.

He gets you every time.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckles, reaching between your legs and swiping a gloved finger along your slit. “I’ll make it fit. Just like I always do.”

He reaches around you, pulling your hips forward. You spread your legs and slip your hand between them, spreading your folds as you settle your hips over the tip of his cock. At the apex like this, it feels like there’s no way his thick head will ever make it. But he holds himself steady, and you work yourself down. Millimetre by millimetre.

“That’s it, my little princess,” he coos, sliding his other hand in and out of the curve of your waist as he watches you struggle. “No preparation at all. Look at you. You’re gonna be so tight for me, I can feel it already.”

He slides his hand in and thumbs the swell of your clit. You yelp, hips jerking downward, and the head of his cock pops past your tight entrance. The sting rushes through your body, but you’ve learned to live for it by now.

“Oh, man,” he groans. “Look at you go. So tight around me, princess. You’re gonna wring me out good.”

With a few more heartbeats of encouraging words, you work yourself onto his cock. Mirio groans and juts his hips into you, places his hand on the flat of your belly where the tip of his cock pushes at your flesh. He’s so much, too much to take all at once, but you’re addicted to the feeling that only he can bring.

Nobody fills you as deeply as Mirio.

“Look at your little tummy,” he growls, “bulging all for me. You’re so small, I can’t believe I haven’t split you in two by now.”

He grabs your hips between his hands. His thumbs nearly touch in the middle, and he grips you tight as he starts to thrust up into you. The chill hovers in the air around you, but there’s only heat between you as you throw your head back, boneless already.

“Miri… Lem… Lemillion,” you whine as your pussy clenches around him.

“That’s it, princess,” he gasps, starting to lose himself already. “That’s it. Let me work you so good. God, you’re so tiny, I-“

His words are lost as you slip a hand between your legs and start to stroke your clit. The pleasure overwhelms you and you clench around him, milking the pleasure from his body with every stroke.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts. “Not gonna last long as all, with you touchin’ yourself like that.” You know when he starts to curse that he’s really losing control. You lick your lips and re-double your efforts. Your wrist starts to ache, but you’re too close to stop now.

“Baby,” you gasp, “Shit, I-…” You can feel that rubber band drawing tighter in your lower belly. Threatening to snap around him at any moment.

“I’m there,” he pants. “I’m there, princess, god, milk my cock with your tight little pussy.”

It doesn’t take more than that.

You come with a howl into the skyline and he follows close behind. He seizes your hips and drags you against him, slamming your body against his balls as he pumps his hips upward and grunts, coming hard. He buries his face into the crook of his neck as your pussy convulses around him, taking every pump of ecstasy that he spills into you.

Both of you take your time coming round, letting the haze dissipate slowly. By the time you open your eyes the sleepy bliss of your orgasm is starting to wear off, and the cold of the waning night sets in.

The dull hiss of static prompts your ears. Mirio looks first, realizing that it’s the police scanner. You hook your chin over his shoulder, watching.

“…jewelry shop…west 89th and Parkdale…violent Quirk…”

“Holy shit.” You jump off his lap, hurrying to zip yourself back into your suit. West 89th and Parkdale isn’t far at all. If you hurry, you could still make it in time.

“What’d I tell ya, princess?” Mirio chuckles, tucking his softening cock back into his suit and tugging the two halves of his costume together again. “Staying out here’d be worth your while.”

You’re stiff as you finish buckling up the last of your suit, but you can’t hide the way you’re smirking.

He’s right. Definitely worth it.

[officerjennie]

May I ask for some Jaskier/Your Choice for 05. online lingerie shopping together with partner? Please.

I think this prompt is so cute! Went with Geraskier because I’ve been thinking about them a lot today ^^

CW: lingerie, porn mentioned (this story ain’t horny tho)

--

Wiggling about in the pillows that he’d arranged as a back rest against the headboard, Jaskier made himself quite comfortable, tugging up one of the many blankets to get cozy. His laptop ended up propped up on a pillow in his lap, forever attached to the wall since the built-in battery had given up on life roughly two weeks after he’d gotten it. By the time the bedroom door got pushed open Jaskier had already opened up several different tabs, perusing without his husband.

“Just set it on the table, dear, it’s too hot right now.” He looked up to beam up at Geralt, who had been ever such a dear and made him some chamomile tea - just the right sort of relaxing thing to help clear his mind after work. Geralt even did as he asked, drink coaster included since he’d learned after he’d placed a glass directly onto the wooden bedside table once before - Jaskier had practically wept at the thought of his grandmum’s heirloom staining with a water ring.

With a rather wry look, Geralt had reminded him that his ‘grandmum’s heirloom’ had been bought straight off amazon, and Jaskier hadn’t talked to him the rest of that night.

So, thankfully for both of them, he’d remembered both coasters this time, and even remembered to bring Jaskier something to nibble on. It earned him a firm smooch to his cheek as he made room for himself on the bed, reaching an arm around Jaskier to tug him close and rub affectionate little circles onto his hip with his thumb.

“..what are you looking at?”

Oh, right. Jaskier blinked, turning back to his laptop. “Right, yes. I had actually been thinking-”

“This is the most boring porn you’ve ever pulled up.”

“It’s not porn, Geralt, honestly! You know I talked to you about that- hey.” He pouted when he saw the hint of a smirk on Geralt’s lips. The bastard was teasing him. That earned him a light swat to one of his lovely thick thighs. “I was thinking about spicing up our love life in a different way, and wanted your opinion on it. Didn’t know what you liked. Well, if I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure what I like yet. There are so many options!”

“You don’t have the tits for that one,” Geralt drawled, nodding towards the lovely leather piece Jaskier had pulled up. It had been complete with crisscrossing leather straps (and had a lovely picture with other leathery suggestions in it, though it might be a bit too daring of them to jump that far into spiciness without testing the waters a bit first).

He pretended to be offended by that, gasping and putting one hand on his chest. “I’m wounded, Geralt, how could you?” After a second of staring at him blandly, Geralt leaned forward just long enough to peck the tip of his nose, making Jaskier scrunch it up and lose his faux offended expression. “Well...you’re not wrong. You do though.”

“No.”

“You’re no fun.” He stuck his tongue out just a little, but he knew better than to leave it out. Not if he wanted a productive conversation - Geralt was known to bite.

“But, you are right. I’m not actually too fond of the thought of a brazier; they look wonderful on some but I’m not sure they would on me. Shame most of the pieces are made for more feminine bodies...” A real shame, really, though at least there were more options for him nowadays than there used to be. Most places even let you custom order as the norm instead of paying a shit ton extra for it.

He flipped through some of the tabs, watching Geralt through his periphery as he went through a few more options. Lots with crisscrossing straps, some with a delicious amount of lace (something Jaskier loves in theory more than in practice; it itched his skin something fierce), a lovely array of colors ranging from teal to red to a blue that Geralt even pointed out reminded him of Jaskier’s eyes, to the ever safe and secure black that would look good on anyone.

Not that Jaskier wanted something black. He might look good in it, but he yearned for colors. Let his dearest husband be the one who stuck to a monochrome closet, he would be a rainbow of fashion until his dying breath.

“Oh, but what about this one?” He pulled up an image of a cute piece in the google search, grinning at the aptly named ‘homosexual lingerie queer men’ piece. “Pink ribbon! You could untie me with your teeth instead of just ripping my pants off for once.”

Geralt gave one of his unimpressed hmms but his eyes darkened a little with interest, which made Jaskier quickly mark this particular pieces as a definite ‘Maybe’. Plus it would make his butt looks very cute and fuckable, with the ribbons tying around his plump little cheeks. Oof, what a confidence boost that would be.

And the ribbons around the front were an even better bonus. The thought of wearing it under his clothes out in public, for only him and Geralt to know, made him squirm a little - better to think about that later, after they’d decided on a piece or two.

“Not getting it?”

“I want options, dear heart, have you ever known me to only get one?” Plus that one, as beautiful as it was, was also 90% lace. He needed a non-lacey option.

Geralt pushed him forward a little, helping him rearrange as he moved behind him, propping his chin on Jaskier’s shoulder to peer over it while he held him. Jaskier leaned back into him and tilted his head to let Geralt get cozy, sighing as Geralt left a few very soft, unassuming kisses to his jawline and neck.

“Oh I just love the name of some of these.” Some of them were quite...cringy, borderline uncomfortably so, with the way they were named. But it didn’t stop him from checking out some of them, and one in particular really grabbed his interests. “Geralt! The sleeves! Oh I just love them, isn’t this such a unique piece?”

This one, Jaskier was simply in love with. Red velvet, a cute tummy piece that had velvet ties attaching it to some lacy straps that wound around the upper thighs. He clicked through the pictures, even adoring the small, velvety bra piece, the cute bow in front absolutely tickling his interest. But the upper body piece is what really drew him in, the puffy shoulder pieces and the short sleeves and the tight collar, a zip up back and the open chest part - the style really was unique when weighed against all the others they’d flipped through, and really, the bow that went right above the thong like straps for the bottom sold it for him.

“Do you like it?” He wiggled his hips as he tilted his head to look at Geralt, a hopeful sort of pout on his lips. “Oh, tell me you love it, I know you love red on me.”

“Looks good on you,” Geralt agreed, squeezing him all tight just because he could, really looking at the lingerie piece, studying it with a thoughtful frown. “Not bad. Probably feels nice.”

“Much nicer than the full lace pieces for sure, though the lacy edges might still itch. Lots of things to untie, a few clasps, even a zipper - would make stripping more interesting.”

“Slower.”

“That’s why it’s called teasing, love, it’s supposed to be slow. Achingly so.”

Geralt nipped his neck, his eyes still on the laptop screen. “It...would suit you.”

“Really? You really think so?” He didn’t hide his giddy grin, not bothering saving this one for later, immediately adding it to his cart and checking out - Geralt had to rattle off their card information for him after he gave him a pitiful pout, whining over the thought of getting up and not being good enough with numbers to remember it all on his own.

With the order settled away, all Jaskier had left to do was pout over how long it would take to get there. Two to three weeks was entirely unfair and too far away. Geralt held him in his mourning, the laptop forgotten and tossed across the bed, Jaskier’s cheek squished against his husband’s glorious chest, their bed an absolute mess with the pillows crowded in their corner and the blanket almost pushed entirely off with how Jaskier was splayed across it. 

“It’s not fair,” he whined, just to feel Geralt’s fingers work their way through his hair.

“You’re a mess,” was his husband’s only response, but as Jaskier looked up at him with forced tears in his eyes he knew what Geralt had really meant: he was his mess.

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“This Isn’t Love” - Edward Cullen x Reader

Request:  Okay let’s hurt Edward feelings, we all know he was toxic and Bella fell into it which then again she’s toxic too sooo, how about a writing where Edward is doing the same thing he did to reader and they snap at him calling him out on his shit about how it’s not okay to keep her away from her friends and family and they get into argument and it comes to the point where she tells him to leave and until he changes himself to stay away from her whether or not they make up is up to you! Go crazy😤

        Reader leaves Edward and ends up with mystery character

                                    just a heads up for you all 

I laid in my bed, staring at the ceiling. Wondering how my life turned into what it was. 

The stress of Edward’s constant overprotective, and seemingly obsessive and controlling, state was growing to be too much. The infatuation and love I had for him at the beginning of our relationship was fading as things progressed.

After he left me for months, I went all the way to Italy to save him. I faced the Volturi head on, just to save his life. I still loved him, but while he was gone I was able to spend time with my best friends at La Push-- something he wouldn’t ever let me do. He said they were “dangerous” now.

Whatever that meant, I didn’t care. Edward wouldn’t let me see anyone except for him, my family, or his family. I loved and adored the way his family treated me, but it was just all too much.

While Edward was gone, taking a piece of my heart with him, I spent a lot of time in isolation. I didn’t feel real anymore, nothing did. Until my dad told me to go down to La Push and hang out with my old friends. While I missed everyone, it almost felt scary at first. I was going to see all my friends, and my childhood crush that ran well into my teens, until Edward came along. Thankfully, Edward not being able to read my mind helped greatly, he didn’t need another reason to berate them. For quite some time, I never understood what set them all so apart from each other, what caused hatred for each other to run through their veins. 

I later learned that all of the Quileute legends that Billy spoke about were real-- it was all real. After Harry Clearwater passed away, I unfortunately never got to see Leah anymore after the funeral, but something about her was off. She looked like she was about to burst at any moment and left in a worse mood than she entered with. Even Seth, the ball of sunshine himself. While I knew they were devastated at the passing of their father, I knew deep down that wasn’t it. They were going to phase. 

But right after the funeral, I had to save Edward from exposing himself in Volterra, killing himself in the process. Alice saw me die when I tried cliff jumping with Paul and Jared, not realizing that they saved me from drowning. I guess they couldn’t be seen in her visions. Alas, it was too late when Alice visited me to see if I was alive, Rosalie already told Edward that I had died, Jacob then confirming it at my house without my knowledge. 

Jacob begged me not to leave, but I couldn’t let someone I had loved so much die, especially when it was at my expense. And with that, Alice and I were off, leaving a disappointed Jacob standing in the road. 

Going to Volterra was an absolutely insane trip. I never felt so many people in one room that wanted to kill me. After having us all threatened, facing some assault on Edward’s end, things seemed to be okay. For just a little bit. 

Edward forbade me to see Jacob, never allowing me to go to La Push to hang out with my fun-loving friends. I missed wrestling with Paul, talking about cars with Jake and Embry, and most of all laughing at all the dumbasses with my best friend Leah. I haven’t seen them in months. I missed them all so much.

Jacob, my best friend since childhood. I loved hanging out with him and all of his friends while it lasted. When we were kids, life was great. Before I wasn’t allowed to see them, I had more fun than I ever thought possible. His friends even brought me a great joy, especially one I had grown my surprising crush on. 

My feelings for Edward dwindling by the moment, feeling more like an object than a girlfriend. While I did love him intensely for the beginning of our relationship, his leaving and Volturi stunt created an enormous wedge in the relationship. I was sick of feeling controlled, I was sick of what we had become. I was no longer my own person anymore, every move of mine was watched-- granted it was for my own protection. The way he looks at me is obsessive, I was no longer lustfully blinded. I needed to end my relationship with Edward, I just didn’t know how. Was I bound to be with him forever? Was I bound to become a vampire after the Volturi’s threats? I was no longer sure. One thing I knew for certain, I was no longer in love with Edward for months. Something had to give. 

I got up, looking at the clock next to my bed. Seeing it to be 10:00. I decided that I could do whatever I wanted to do. I was my own person, I could do what I wanted. 

I walk out my front door and go to start my car, only for it not to work. 

I try again, and no avail. 

I heard a thump and suddenly Edward is next to me in my car.

“Please, it isn’t safe.” He murmurs. 

“They would never hurt me. Wait, did you do this to my car?” I ask, getting louder by the second.

“I’m just trying to prot-”

“You are not trying to protect me. You’re controlling me!” I interrupt him. 

“(Y/N), I can’t handle not knowing where you are. I need to know what you’re doing, I can’t protect you there.” He says in a disheveled tone. 

“Edward, you don’t need to. They’ll protect me, none of them would ever hurt me. Ever. Matter of fact, they never up and left me when an inconvenience occurs. None of them try to control every single thing I do. They respect me as my own person. I’m not an object to them.” 

“(Y/N), I love you.” He whispers. 

“Don’t keep doing this to me. I can’t handle this anymore. This… this is too much. You took it too far. You don’t love me, this isn’t love.” I whisper. 

“Don’t say that, you know I only do this to protect you.” 

“You’re manipulating me! I haven’t been allowed to contact my friends for months. I haven’t been able to see anyone except for you and who you let me. I don’t want this. I don’t want you anymore. This isn’t love, this isn’t what I fell in love with.” I say powerfully. 

“(Y/N), I can change.” 

“No, you can’t. You won’t. You’ve said that before, you don’t mean it. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to.” I look into his eyes sternly, watching his eyes fill with rage, though his face mimicking one of despair. 

“(Y/N), I won’t leave unless you tell me to.” He begs. 

“Leave, Edward. Don’t come back.” I whisper. 

He nods his head angrily. 

“Don’t be surprised if you never see me again. I don’t even know why you ever came to Volterra to save me.” He spits, walking out of my car. 

I lay my head against the steering wheel, finally feeling free. 

Free to do what I want. I am myself once again. 

I get out of my car, shaking slightly, and walk over to the front of my car. 

I lift up the hood and see that Edward simply disconnected the battery. 

“What an asshole.” I mutter to myself. 

I connect the battery, thanking all the time I’ve spent in Jacob’s garage for teaching me more about cars than I ever thought I would care to know. 

I got back into my car and drove to Sam Uley’s, knowing that I would be guaranteed to find some of the pack there, if not all of them. 

I get out of my car and begin walking to the small house, hoping to see any of them. 

I knock on the door, seeing the light peek through the door window. 

Emily opens the door, smiling at me. 

“Long time, no see.” 

“I missed you guys.” My lip begins to quiver. 

“Oh honey, come in.” She pulls me into the house, wrapping me in a tight hug. 

I begin to sob, not realizing nor caring who else was in the room. 

“(Y/N), what happened? Is everything okay?” Seth asks, running up to me. 

I look into his warm brown eyes, nodding. 

“Now it is. I feel so free. I miss you all so much.” I sob, walking into his arms. 

After I pull away, I see Jacob and Paul sitting at the table, stunned at my appearance. 

I sit down, explaining everything. How Edward kept tabs on everything I did, forbidding me to contact or see them, watching and controlling my every action. How he tried to stop me from coming here by disconnecting my car battery, assuming I wouldn’t know better. 

“I should kill him.” Jacob seethed. 

Paul nodding angrily. 

“I think we should.” He agrees. 

Seth looks down, rubbing circles in my back. 

“Do you think he’s going to come back for you?” Seth asks me.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m more worried about the Volturi. But I don’t know if they would simply kill them instead of me, I don’t know.” 

“Well, you have us. We won’t let anything happen to you.” Paul puts a warm, comforting hand on my shoulder. 

Emily brings me over a cup of hot chocolate, sitting beside me. 

“We’ll have to tell Sam when he gets back from patrol with the rest of the pack.” She places her hand over mine at the table. 

“You should stay with us for a while.” Jacob suggests, earning a collective nod from the whole group.

“I can’t wait to see everyone else.” I give a weak smile, earning one mirroring back from the rest of the group. 

“I know, we all missed the hell out of you. We were wondering what happened, but we couldn’t check on you with them around.” Jacob says. 

“They’ll probably leave again.” Emily suggests. 

And while I would miss Emmett, Esme, and Carlisle-- I knew it was what was for the best. I felt like this was my first breath of fresh air after drowning for months on end. 

Suddenly, the door opens and all of us turn our attention to those walking in. 

I look and see Sam, Quil, Jared, and Leah walking into the house. 

I observed all of their shocked, yet excited faces… until my eyes met Leah’s.

I felt all of the air leave my lungs, the world stopped spinning around me. 

If this meant what I thought it did, then my childhood crush had just imprinted on me. 

“Hey. It’s been forever.” I breathe out, a small smile forming on my lips. 

Leah looked like she had just seen a ghost, her mouth slightly agape. 

“Hey. I missed you.” She smiles. 

Quil looks between us with wide eyes, smiling like a maniac. 

It happened, this is what was supposed to happen. Things finally made sense. 

Jacob, who always knew about my feelings for Leah, smiled to himself. Low and behold, he had also known about Leah’s feelings for me that she had been hiding for quite some time, herself. 

“I missed you, too.” 

________________________

Word Count: 1899

[roman-writing]

bring home a haunting (1/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 11,511

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

“The sweetest thing in all my life has been the longing — to reach the Mountain, to find the place where all the beauty came from — my country, the place where I ought to have been born. Do you think it all meant nothing, all the longing? The longing for home? For indeed it now feels not like going, but like going back.” - CS Lewis, Till We Have Faces

—

I: 1987

—

The sound of water sloshing through the pipes was a constant drone in the air. Dani stared at herself in the mirror. Her hand rested on the tap, holding it open. Steam crept in along the edges of the mirror as hot water continued to stream into the white porcelain bathroom sink, pale tendrils framing her face like smudged fingerprints against the glass. She was still dressed in pajamas, her hair a rumpled mess. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her face felt puffy and her stomach heavy, but above all else she just appeared tired.

There was movement behind her. The bathroom door opened and her head jerked up in surprise as the door frame squared around Eddie's tall silhouette. In the misted mirror, his glasses seemed to reflect all light, obscuring half his face in a gleam like the sun glancing across the surface of a windscreen.

His reflection smiled. "You still getting ready?" he asked. "We need to go in ten, if I'm giving you a ride to work."

Abruptly, Dani twisted the tap, cutting off the flow of water. She cleared her throat. "Sorry. No. I'll — I'll drive myself."

"You sure? I don't know if your poor little car will make it."

"No. It'll be fine," she assured him, trying to sound far more confident than she felt. Never mind that the local mechanic had given her a list of incomprehensible ills that plagued her car the last time she had taken it into the shop after it had broken down again. "Thanks, though."

"All right," he said, but still he did not turn to leave. "You know, I was thinking. We should probably sell it."

"Hmm?"

Dani had opened the mirror door to reveal a jumble of bottles and toothpaste and toothbrushes, only some of which were hers. She scouted around for what she was looking for. Even after a few weeks, everything still felt so displaced. She struggled to find the smallest item these days, be it her favorite sauce pan or a bottle of — oh, there it was.

"Your car," Eddie was saying behind her. "Don't you think we should sell it? We don't really need two. Not now that we're living together."

Dani froze with her hands cupped in the water of the sink. She could see her own reflection weaving and waving from the disturbance until her face looked disjointed. Like some sort of Picasso. An eye here. A jaw there. Scattered into separate chambers.

Without answering, she leaned down and splashed her face, rubbing at her cheeks until a foam lathered, eyes squeezed shut.

"Well?" Eddie asked.

She bought herself a moment by rinsing the suds from her face and reaching blindly for a towel that she had perched on a nearby rail for just that very purpose. When she spoke, her voice was muffled through the cloth, "I don't know. I just think —" She lowered the towel and wiped at her neck. "Wouldn't it be inconvenient? You having to drive me around everywhere?"

In the mirror, his outline shrugged. "I don't mind. More time spent with you, right?"

She offered him a weak smile, drying her hands and folding the towel neatly back on its rack. “You’re sweet,” she said. “But really. I mean — What if I need to pick up groceries on the way back from the school? Or what if I want to visit your mother? Or —?”

“All right. All right. You win,” he laughed, softly. He came up behind her, hands settling on her waist, gentle but heavy all the same. “Just think about it. Okay?”

The steam at the edges of the mirror had begun to fade, and Eddie’s features came into sharp relief. Looking at their reflection was like looking at the picture in their living room where they were posed for prom. Eddie’s hands clasped at her waist, and Dani still with that deer in the headlights smile. It was almost perfect. It was almost enough. Being a fresh-faced fiancée. Wearing rumpled pink pajamas. Living together. Watching a life unfold before her as though it belonged to someone else.

She shrank away from him in order to turn around. “I should finish getting ready,” she said. 

He let her go but leaned down for a kiss. Instead, his glasses bumped the side of her face. Laughing, she pushed the glasses up his nose as he retreated with a wince. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Her hand was still lingering on the side of his face — scratch of stubble beneath her fingertips — and Eddie pressed a brief kiss to her palm before striding from the bathroom. Dani stood there, clutching her hand back to her chest, listening to his retreating footsteps down the hall. Something curdled in her stomach, though she hadn’t eaten anything yet this morning. She passed it off as hunger instead of guilt. 

Eyes squeezing shut, hand clenching into a fist at her sternum, Dani inhaled a deep steadying breath. Then, opening her eyes once more, she turned back towards the mirror and reached for a hairbrush. 

—

The coffee in the teacher’s lounge was always dark as sin and tasted of battery acid. Dani pulled on the tap, filling up her styrofoam cup until her hand burned and she had to hold it gingerly from the top with her fingertips. Enough creamer followed so that the coffee resembled milk more than the original brew. She tested it with a sip, crinkled her nose, and added sugar until it was barely palatable. It would still strip paint in a pinch, but it would also keep her going throughout the day. 

With a resigned sigh, she carried the coffee over to the round table in the back corner of the lounge, where her piles of notes and textbooks waited. The binders sported multi-colored tongues, every section marked with a tab and her broad loopy handwriting, and there was a satchel of pens and markers in every hue under the sky. Taking a sip of her cup of paint thinner, Dani pulled out a plain black pen. She trailed her thumb down the tabs until she reached the desired section, and flipped open to the correct page. There, she began to record her meticulous notes. She would pause every so often to flip through a textbook and double-check some figure or another that she had convinced herself she had forgotten.

The lounge was mostly empty but for her. It was still an early hour, even for her colleagues. Here, she felt like she could actually work. Back home she would inevitably feel like she had gotten in the way. Not of Eddie. Not usually. Though sometimes he would wander over to the table while she was trying to arrange a lesson plan and distract her with talk of banalities that always made her hand slip, that always made her lose her place on the page. Other times he would complain about how her work sprawled and took over the whole dining room.

Mostly it was the house itself. Still so fresh and new and clean, walls pressing in like a stomach lining. Spreading all her work notes out felt like she was intruding upon the space of the napkins and cutlery. As though all of the items people had bought them for their engagement were more at home there than she was. A house of cardboard boxes. Of clothes. Of china. Stuff. Things. Their things. 

Dani’s writing had slowed. She shook her head briskly and straightened in her seat. Another sip of fortifying turpentine, and she was scribbling away again. 

“Enjoy the summer holiday?”

Dani glanced up at the sound of that familiar voice. Hannah Grose, seamlessly elegant in a wine-dark skirt suit, stood with her hand on the back of one of the chairs around the little table. 

A smile broke across Dani’s face, and she said, “Yeah! And you?” She gestured towards the chair with her pen, adding, “Please.”

“Not much to report on the western front.” Hannah sat, delicately leaning her elbow upon the table so as not to disturb the sprawl of Dani’s notes. “But I hear that’s not the case in your camp. Congratulations are in order.” 

Dani could feel her cheeks strain with the effort of keeping her smile in place. “Thanks!”

“Well?” Hannah asked, her eyes agleam with warm curiosity. “Go on then. How did he propose?” 

“Which time?” Dani joked half-heartedly. When Hannah gave a little huff of laughter, Dani said, “No, seriously. He’s been asking me to marry him since we were kids.” 

“Well, congratulations,” Hannah said. “Do you have a date planned? Or is that still in the works?”

Dani fiddled with the pen between her fingers, repeatedly removing the cap and sticking it back on with a nervous jab. The plastic clacked dully against the unfamiliar band of gold around her finger. “Oh, no. Not yet. We — uh — we’re going to wait a bit. Eddie just started his new job, and I’ve — well. You’re the one who asked me to teach sixth grade this year. And I’m excited, but also I feel so unprepared for a whole classroom of twelve year olds.” 

“Don’t be nervous, dear,” Hannah said, and though her tone was soothing her small smile was teasing. “They can smell fear.”

Dani’s laugh was slightly too breathy and too short to be heartfelt. “Oh, I know. It’s just —” She made a flighty gesture with one hand, “— getting a new batch in. It’s always a little nerve wracking. There are so many names to memorize in the first week. And sorting out the dynamics of them all, how they interact, and — well, you know.”

“No, I don’t. Not really, anyway,” Hannah said. “I came up the ranks through an administrative route. Never had any classroom time to speak of.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Dani said.

Hannah gave Dani’s notes a nudge with her elbow. “What was it you were just telling me about the trials and tribulations of homeroom?”

This time when Dani laughed, it was far more relaxed. “The kids are the best part. Really. That’s why you do it.”

Hannah gave her a knowing look. “Yes. And that’s why I hired you.”

“Have I thanked you for that, yet?”

“Only once a year for three years.”

“My next gift basket is in the mail tomorrow, then,” Dani joked.

“Hang the basket and bring me a slice from the cafe instead.”

“With coffee?” Dani asked, grinning when Hannah wrinkled her nose at the idea. “You got it, boss.”

“Tea,” said Hannah primly, “is perfectly serviceable. Thank you. It’s eight thirty, by the way.”

Dani’s eyes widened and she checked her watch to find that Hannah was, in fact, correct. “Oh, shoot!” Hastily, she scraped together the loose papers, shuffling them back into their notebook. Tucking it beneath one arm, she snatched up her styrofoam cup and made a dash for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Grose.” 

“Don’t forget to bring back a receipt for the slice!” Hannah called after her. “You must let me pay you back this time!”

“Put it on my next remuneration review!”

—

The kids were all filing into class, and Dani was hesitating at the blackboard. She held the tip of a piece of chalk against the dark grain. Her hand had frozen on the final downward stroke of the 'M' when she thought — should it still be 'Miss'? 'Ms.'? What were the rules?

The sounds of children jabbering away behind her, chairs scraping, things being thrown, urged her into action, and Dani wrote the name she had always written before turning around.

"All right, let's settle down, please." She waited until twenty-five faces were turned towards her in relative silence — as good as she could hope for given the circumstances — before smiling. Then, she set aside the chalk and picked up a clipboard full of names. "Hi, everyone. I'm Miss Clayton. Welcome to homeroom. Let's go through names. Make sure everyone's here."

It was the same, she told herself even as she meticulously took roll. How different could a bunch of twelve year olds be to her usual ten year olds? She even recognized one or two names from when she had taught a previous class. One of her former students waved at her from the back of a row of desks, and Dani smiled in return.

She skimmed right over the roll call and into the first introductions to the year. It happened so fast, that she hardly even registered a familiar looking name on the list. The boy in question merely raised his hand upon his name being called out, and Dani forged on to the next. With so many new faces to memorize, she did not even pause to mull over the presence of a Michael Taylor in her class. There were too many of them. Always too many. She never could keep track. Always remembering faces, but never names. Maybe if there were fewer of them, she thought. Maybe if they were younger. 

They never were.

—

Even after two weeks back in the classroom, the bell ringing never failed to make Dani jump slightly. She nearly dropped her chalk from where she was drawing on the blackboard. Already behind her she could hear the scrape of chairs and the excited babble at the arrival of the weekend. 

Setting down the chalk, Dani turned around and began wiping her hands against her skirt. She had to lift her voice to be heard. “All right everyone, don’t forget your permission slips for a trip to the community library! If you don’t bring back a signed form, you won’t be able to go, and you’ll have to stay here! And, Michael? Can you stay behind for a minute, please? I want to talk to you.”

Michael’s head whipped around at the sound of his name. A few other students shot him odd glances and his shoulders crept up around his ears. He shoved his books and notes into his bag — a dark blue canvas with silver stars that looked like they’d been painstakingly drawn on — then slouched at his desk until the others had all left. 

Sitting behind her own desk, Dani brushed at the chalk handprints on her skirt — she was always a mess by the end of a school week; chalk everywhere — and gestured for Michael to come closer. He hesitated before pushing himself upright and walking forward until he stood in front of her desk. His brow was furrowed but his head was bowed, looking contrite, as though waiting for some sort of reprimand.  

Dani gentled her voice. “Michael, I just wanted to -"

"Mikey."

She blinked, faltering. "I'm sorry?"

"My name," he said very firmly for someone who stood with such a stoop. "It’s Mikey. I don’t like Michael."

With a smile, Dani said, "Of course. Mikey. You’re not in trouble. I promise.” With a light tap of her palms against the surface of the desk, she pulled out a piece of paper from atop one of the stacks and slid it towards him across her desk. “This is your homework from Monday. Do you remember this problem here? Number eleven?”

Shrugging at the weight of his backpack, he nodded. 

“Well, I kind of messed up,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning forward as though revealing a secret. “And I copied this problem from the wrong section of the book. The back section of the book, I mean. Most of the others didn’t even try to answer it, and those that did got it wrong. Except —” Dani tapped a finger against the edge of the page, “— for you.” 

Mikey did not say anything. His gaze remained dropped, as though he were studying his shoes.

“Do you know what this ‘x’ is?” Dani asked, pointing to the math problem in question.

Mikey shook his head. “No. I thought it was like a question mark?” 

“Yeah.” Dani smiled. “Yeah, that’s right.”

He glanced up at her, saw her watching him, and then hastily lowered his eyes again, shuffling his feet. 

Leaning her weight on her forearms, Dani said, “I know you’re a transfer student this year, and you came from somewhere out of state. Did your other schools teach you algebra by any chance?”

Again, he shook his head. 

“Okay.” She ducked her head down in an attempt to look into his eyes. “I told you: you’re not in trouble. I just wanted to know — do you like math? Because it seems to me you’re really good at it.”

“I guess,” he mumbled. His hand tightened around the strap of his backpack. “Can I go now?”

Dani toyed with the edge of the page of homework. Then with a sigh she leaned back in her seat. “Yeah, you can go. Have a good weekend.” 

He murmured some pleasantry in response, but in the next moment he was gone from the room so fast she thought she must have imagined it. For a moment, Dani frowned after him. She pulled his homework towards herself, studying the page. Mikey’s handwriting was cramped and messy, but there was no mistaking the fact that he had written every answer only once. There were no eraser marks to be seen. He even showed the steps he took to reach his answers. 

Her thumb traced over his name at the top right hand corner. Then, with a little shake of her head, she set the page back atop the stack of other papers and began to clean up. 

Even after the kids had mostly left, there were always a few stragglers left behind. Some trotted through the halls in packs on their way to whatever extracurricular activities their parents had signed them up for. Dani kept the door to her classroom open, and the squeak of their shoes echoed down the corridor along with the sound of their fading voices. Tilting her wrist to check the time, she pulled out the latest round of homework assignments that had been handed back to her earlier that day. The set she hadn’t had a chance to mark yet. 

Best to just get it done with now. Her car was clinging to the last vestiges of life and had landed itself back in the workshop earlier that week. She would be here a while until Eddie got off work. 

She grabbed a red pen and pulled the first page towards her. The pen flicked officiously as she scanned through the questions, barely pausing until she circled the final grade at the top and set the page aside in favor of the next. And so on. And so forth. It was almost relaxing. As relaxing as a known constant could be. She could always rely upon the dependability of homework that needed grading. Just like she could rely upon the dependability of death and taxes.

She glanced up only rarely from her work whenever a flurry of movement flitted across the corners of her vision. A bird darting from a tree branch here. A janitor sweeping the floors there. Dani paused to push her seat back from the desk and make small talk, asking after the janitor's wife and kids until he shuffled along with a wave, pushing his long-handled broom, which looked more like a breed of shaggy dog than a cleaning implement. She had almost finished grading the stack of papers, when she glanced out the window towards the street. She looked back down at the papers, then did a double take.

That was a student sitting on the curb. She recognized that blue backpack with silver stars. Dani checked the time again. Nearly four in the afternoon now. With a hum and a frown, she returned to grading, but her gaze would wander after each finished page back towards the window.

Finally, she capped the pen and set it down atop the finished stack of papers. She would need to enter those grades into the system later, but that could wait. For now, Dani swept everything into her bag before slinging it over one shoulder. Her keys jangled from their lanyard as she locked up and made her way outside.

Mikey was still crouched on the sidewalk when she approached. Her shoes clacked dully against the pavement, and he turned to look over his shoulder at who was approaching him.

Dani smiled brightly. "Hi!" she said. "You’re still here?"

Mikey nodded, but gave no verbal reply. Some sort of magazine was hanging loosely from his fingers, half open and tucked between his legs as though he had been caught red-handed.

Setting her bag down on the ground, she sat beside him and craned her neck to get a look at the cover he was clearly trying to hide. "Wonder Woman, huh?"

His cheeks flushed in embarrassment, and he refused to look anywhere near her direction.

"You know," Dani said. "I used to wait up at night to catch all the episodes of the show as they were airing. The Lynda Carter ones? You ever watch it?"

His eyes were wide when he finally turned to look at her. He nodded. "Yeah. I love that show."

"I recorded them all," Dani confided in a whisper, as though the two of them were in on a secret. "Still have them on tape at home, though I haven't watched them in forever."

"My sister gets annoyed when I rewatch stuff too often," Mikey said. He had straightened his legs, and now the comic book was sprawled across his bony knees to reveal a few inked pages.

She nodded towards the thin paper booklet. "I never read the comics, though. Are they any fun?"

It was like opening flood gates. Suddenly, she found herself being regaled about the entire publication history of Wonder Woman, while Mikey gestured wildly with the comic so that the loose pages rustled with every motion of his hands. His face came alight when he spoke. Dani listened with amusement. She perched an elbow on her knees and propped her chin on her hand, nodding along, asking appropriate questions. Once she asked what was obviously a dumb question, for he made a face and explained her error in great detail.

The early autumnal sun was slanting through the trees by the time a boxy silver sedan rolled up to the other side of the street. Dani could see a familiar mop of dark hair and the gleam of glasses through the windows. The car puttered to a halt, engine idling, and Eddie pressed down on the steering wheel so that the horn blared briefly. 

Dani waved in his direction and said to Mikey, “That’s my ride. Are you going to be okay out here?” She glanced down the street for any approaching cars. “Someone’s coming to pick you up, right?”

In answer, he held up the issue of Wonder Woman. “It’s okay, Miss Clayton. My sister will be here soon.”

“Okay, then,” said Dani. Slapping her hands on her thighs, she pushed herself to her feet, bag hanging from one shoulder. She walked towards the car with a smile and a wave back at Mikey. “I’ll see you next week!”

He did not answer. He was already nose-deep in his comic book again. Shaking her head with a small chuckle, Dani continued towards where Eddie was waiting for her, tapping at the dashboard. It wasn’t until her hand was on the chromed door handle that she finally registered what Mikey had said. 

A sister. He had a sister. At first she’d thought — well, a sister who got annoyed with a brother who hogged the television set would surely be a younger sister. But a sister who drove to pick him up from school was definitely not a younger sister. 

“Danielle, are you all right? You look a little pale.”

The sound of Eddie’s voice made her jerk half out of her skin. She hadn’t even realized he had rolled down the window. 

“Yeah,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “Yeah. Can you just - Can you wait a second? I’ll be —I’ll be just a second.” 

Dani shoved her bag through the open window into her seat, then whirled around and marched back across the street. Her hands were clenched into fists at her side. She could feel the bite of her short nails into her palms. Something acidic boiled in her stomach, twisting it into knots, until she stood over Mikey, struggling to find her voice. 

“You said you had a sister?” she asked. “An older sister? And — And your last name is Taylor?” 

Looking puzzled, Mikey shrugged. “Yeah?” 

This was impossible. There was no way. For a long moment, Dani stared at him, his brown hair, his brown eyes, his narrow shoulders, the almost familiar shape of his nose and face. 

Dani cleared her throat and tried to sound nonchalant. “And what — uh — what’s her name?” 

With a quizzical frown up at her, Mikey turned a page of his comic book to where Wonder Woman was punching stars from one of her foes. “My sister?” he asked, as if it were the most bizarre question in the world. “Jamie. Her name’s Jamie.” 

“Right,” Dani breathed, feeling like she’d just received a blow to the space beneath her ribcage. “Right. Of course. Sorry. I’ll just — Bye.” 

Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode back towards the waiting car. She willed her breathing to even out, even as she felt something coil around her sternum and tighten with every step. Yanking open the door, Dani slipped into the car. She pushed her bag down to her feet and pulled the door shut behind her. 

“Everything good?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah,” Dani lied, her voice sounding oddly high even to her own ears. It was difficult to swallow; her throat felt too tight. A rush of blood flooded through her ears in a deafening crash. She stared fixedly at the reflection of her own clenched hands in the slanted windshield, willing them to relax even as her knuckles went whiter. “Fine. Everything’s fine.” 

And Eddie didn’t question it at all. He merely shrugged, put the car into gear, and drove away.

—

It stayed with her afterwards. Like a bruise upon her skin, blue and purple, tender to the touch. That cloying sense of the air too thick. Molasses on a hot summer day, the dark shadow that clung to her heels in sunlight, haunting her every step. She couldn’t breathe with it, couldn’t escape it.

Jamie. Jamie, here. Jamie, home.

Somehow Eddie didn’t notice. It completely passed him by, the way her eyes darted around as they stopped to pick up groceries, her clenched fists held tightly to her sides, consumed with the uneasy notion that she might turn around the corner and Jamie would appear, as if summoned by the gravity of Dani’s pounding heart. 

It should’ve been easy — like most things eventually — locking it away. Erasing it. She had managed now for years, days, months. Except now the very thought of Jamie being so near again, so tangible again, made her somehow indelible. As if she’d always been there. Waiting. As if she’d never gone. It felt altogether at once like being peeled and stripped away, down to an exposed nerve. 

Dani wished she could say she slept easy that night. Instead, after spending much of the witching hour staring at the ceiling, she finally succumbed to the sound of Eddie’s soft snores, his arm splayed across her waist, only to wake up feeling as if she'd been cracked open and hollowed out. Somehow, in between the moments of stumbling out of bed and driving up to the blue bungalow across town with Eddie in the small rental truck behind her, Dani managed to go through the motions of call and response. Her limbs moving, her mouth speaking all of their own accord, and she could only watch it happening. She pulled on the turn signal. The click of the light like an errant drip of a tap. It was only when she was cutting the engine to stare up at the house that was once hers, that something tightened in her chest, shunting her back to earth. 

Carson met them by the front steps where he sat in his studded leather jacket that he wore regardless of the weather, two takeout cups in hand. 

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled, standing and offering one of the cups to Eddie who reached him first. “Thought I was gonna have to drink these myself before they got cold.”

Eddie huffed a laugh, taking the cup. “Yeah, we wouldn’t want that,” he drawled before helping himself inside the house without a backwards glance, taking a long sip from his cup.

Carson stared after him for a moment before turning to Dani with a smirk, and said, “Someone’s in a mood.”

Managing a chuckle, Dani folded her arms around herself. “Yeah, he uh, he’s just eager to get it done, you know? Realtor wants the place empty by three today.”

“Well, in that case,” he said, holding out the last cup, his smirk softening to something kinder. 

“Oh, thank you,” she said, taking it. The brush of his fingers against hers was warm and welcome. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Sure, I did,” he responded with a shrug, and nudged her to take a drink, “Go on.”

At the first sip of what Dani had thought was coffee was instead a sweet and rich hot chocolate. Her eyes went wide. 

Carson laughed at the expression on her face. “Thought you could use a little something sweet today.”

She smiled at him over the plastic top and took another longer sip. “Thank you,” she said, “For coming. You didn’t need to, but —”

“— You needed some extra muscle, which I’ve plenty of.” His grin seemed rueful. There lingered in Carson more of the boyish youth that Dani had seen in Eddie so many years ago. He wasn’t as gangly or as broad-shouldered as his older brothers, but he was always, without fail, a comforting presence in an otherwise rowdy O’Mara household. 

“And yet none of your other brothers showed up, I see,” Dani said. 

“Yeah, well,” Carson shrugged against his leather jacket, hands stuck into the pockets. “Guess, I’m just the only responsible one.” 

“I knew there was a reason why I liked you best.” 

He winked and lowered his voice. “Don’t let Eddie hear you say that.”

With a snort, Dani reached out and ruffled his perfectly coiffed hair so that it more resembled Eddie’s unruly curls. He ducked his head and swatted her away with a whine of complaint. She laughed when he stepped away to carefully fix his hair in the reflection of her car window. 

“You leave your pomade at home again?” Dani teased. “Thought you never left without it.”

She could just make out his face in the reflection, nose scrunching up as he raked his fingers through his dark hair until it was suitably tamed. The door of the house one over opened, and a young man strode out, wearing a bathrobe and clutching a mug of coffee. Immediately Carson straightened, as though he’d been tapped with the wrong end of a cattle prod.

Dani waved. “Hi, Jason!” 

Her neighbor lifted a desultory hand while he fumbled with his letterbox. “Last day?” he asked, voice raspy with sleep.

“Taking the last of it now,” she said. 

Jason shut the letterbox and scooped up the newspaper that had been tossed onto his lawn earlier that morning. “Let me know if you need an extra hand.” 

“I should be all right. That’s what Carson’s for.” She gestured with her hot chocolate towards Carson, who had his hands jammed back into his pockets and was now leaning against her car with an odd expression on his face.

Jason glanced over and nodded, no more than a jerk of his chin up, before walking back into his house with the newspaper tucked under one arm. The muscles in Carson’s jaw were clenched, standing out like the ropes of a sailing ship. 

After the door to Jason’s house had swung shut, Dani asked, “I thought you two were friends?”

Carson grunted a wordless note. “We had a falling out a few months ago. Anyway —” He turned on his heel, grin back in place, and started making his way towards her house. “Show me the heavy stuff. Come on!”  

By the time they first made their way inside, Eddie was already hauling out boxes filled with her things. The tops and sides of each cardboard box had been painstakingly labelled in Dani’s hand, the letters neat and blocky. Carson slipped by Eddie with an exaggerated pose as if squeezing through a tight space as they passed one another in the door. Eddie paused, arms laden, and turned his face to Dani while she climbed the steps leading up to the entryway. The extra step allowed her to press a chaste kiss to his cheek and, mollified, he continued on his way towards the truck. Once inside, she found that Carson was already heaving an armchair up with his hands. She moved out of the way so he could trot after his older brother, leaving her momentarily alone.

The house was bare. Most of her things had already been carted away the week before. The transition into their new shared home had been gradual, just like everything else in their relationship. Eddie settling in first and coaxing Dani along as though she were a particularly nervous show dog that had slipped the collar. Looking around now, hands on her hips, Dani felt like an intruder. Like she was an archaeologist who had wandered into someone else's burial site with a rusty torch and hammer.

It almost looked bigger now that it was so empty. Her footsteps echoed too loud on the wooden floors, the sound traveling further and longer. The bare walls once peppered with paintings and photos now like a skeleton expanding its ribs, waiting to expel her in one long sunken breath. Her thumb gradually drifted to her mouth as she took it all in, biting hard at her nail and skin, fixedly eyeing the spot where once a small reading nook used to be. 

The sound of footsteps behind her was harsh and loud to her ears. “Hey, what did I tell you about that?” Eddie said from beside her suddenly, his hand gently pulling Dani’s away from her mouth.

She swallowed heavily and pulled her hand carefully back to hold into a fist by her side, and said, “Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just —”

“I don’t like you hurting yourself,” he said, frowning. She couldn’t help but let her shoulders slump at the concern in his eyes, and only managed to give him a tenuous smile and a nod. “Look, we’re almost done. Soon we’ll be out of here in no time and we can finally just focus on our home. Just let me and Carson do all the hard work.”

“I can help,” Dani said. “I want to help.”

He sighed. “Danielle -”

“I have my inhaler in the car. I won’t keel over and die,” Dani said.

“Hey, Ed, buddy, what happened to that deadline, huh?” Carson said, leaning heavily on the wall and pointing behind him to the kitchen, “You gonna help me with this thing or not?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, and briefly placed a hand on her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen with muttered grumbling. Dani grinned after him before catching Carson’s eyes, chuckling and shaking her head as he winked at her before following Eddie.

“Gotta give her a minute to breathe, Ed.” Carson’s voice was soft, but still Dani heard it all the same and wrapped her arms tight around herself. 

Clearing her throat, she strode off in the direction of her old bedroom. The bed had been taken away and put in their new spare bedroom for guests who might come to visit. The carpet still bore indentations from where the posts had once sat. Eddie had already been in here; the boxes were gone. Dani glanced around for any last remaining items that might have been forgotten. The closet door was slightly awry, and with a frown she pulled it fully open. There was a single wire coat hanger hooked on the bar that stretched across the closet. Her hand reached out to take it, when she froze.

There, tucked away into the corner beneath one of the built in shelves, was a small wooden box. She could hardly remember the last time she had seen it, let alone opened it. A layer of dust covered the top. Kneeling down, Dani pulled the box out and into her lap. She blew the dust off and had to wipe a bit more with the edge of her sleeve. It was made of plain wood with a bronze latch fastening the lid shut. Her thumb teased the corner of the latch. She worried her lower lip between her teeth before steeling herself and lifting the lid open on squeaky hinges.

Nestled inside were a series of photographs, faded with age. Something clenched in her chest as she touched the first one with trembling fingers.

She and Jamie looked so young, and they were. Barely fifteen. Jamie's arm flung around her shoulder, arm outstretched to snap the photo while she pressed a kiss to Dani's cheek even as Dani laughed and elbowed her ribs. Swallowing down the urge to be sick, she slipped the photo aside to see the next. Jamie was younger still. Her arms were outstretched as she balanced her weight on the narrow steel bar of the abandoned train tracks beyond the fields that surrounded the town. Dani could remember the day she took this with crystal clarity. The days of summer in those years had been longer somehow, stretching on into warm endless nights. 

She was a furtive grave robber, flicking through picture after picture, exhuming a past that she hardly recognized herself in now. And pictures weren’t all that were stored here. There was a band shirt that had been half eaten by moths over years of neglect. An old Zippo lighter with scratched edges along the chrome plating. A necklace that was actually just a worn old half dollar coin pierced through and hung from a cheap chain. A cassette tape labelled Jamie’s Mixtape (1978) in a messy slanted scrawl, long missing its protective case. And finally, an old battered copy of Valley of the Dolls, where if she were to flick it open, she would find a pressed blue morning glory hidden among the pages. 

She gently ran her hand over them, still trembling as if the living memories within the treasure trove thrummed under her skin with its own heartbeat. 

In the distance, she could hear footsteps and the back and forth between Carson and Eddie in the living room as they manoeuvred a couch through the front door. When the footsteps drew closer, approaching down the hall, Dani hurriedly stuffed everything back into the box and shut the lid. 

Carson leaned in the doorway. At some point he had shed his leather jacket, so that now he only wore a white undershirt that was two sizes too small, tucked into his jeans. “You good here? We’ve loaded the last of it into the truck.”

“Yeah,” Dani said. She pushed herself upright, clutching the box to her chest as though it were an heirloom. “Yeah, that's everything.” 

His eyebrows rose and he nodded towards the box. “What do you got there?” 

Dani’s grip tightened. She could feel the grooves of the box pressing into her skin. “Nothing important.” 

—

Dani went about her routine on edge. At the supermarket, gripping the shopping cart between her hands and turning down the different aisles. At the gas station, stepping out of her beat up old car to work the pump. At the school, peering out the window at all the parents dropping off their kids in the parking lot. At the local cafe nearest the elementary school, picking up a newspaper and a slice for Hannah. Hoping for a glimpse of Jamie and dreading any encounter with her all at once.

Except Jamie never appeared. And Mikey sat at the back of the class, doodling in his notebook, not paying attention but knowing all the answers regardless whenever Dani called on him to participate. She could always see him after school sitting on the curbside and reading a new comic issue, or thumbing through a book from the paltry school library or scratching at his homework with a pencil. Not once did Dani loiter long enough to see him get picked up, and she felt a stab of irritation that he should be left alone for so long. But it wasn’t her business, and he got along well enough with the other kids during recess. 

Dani was still stewing silently over the whole affair at dinner with her future in-laws. She sat at the dining table, chewing at the skin of her thumb, with Carson at one elbow and Eddie at the next. Mike, Judy’s soft-spoken stooping husband, sat at the head of the table, while Judy herself set the last of the platters down and invited everyone to tuck in. 

“How’re the kids this year?” Judy asked as she spooned peas onto her plate. 

Dani made a noise in the back of her throat, before lowering her hand into her lap. “Yeah, they’re great! I — uh — I actually have a transfer student.”

Judy made a sound to indicate that she was still listening even while she passed a platter across the table to Eddie. 

“He’s really smart,” Dani continued. “I don’t really know what to do with him. He — well, he always looks a bit bored, to be honest.”

“Don’t they have some sort of advanced program for kids like that?” Mike asked. He had already tucked into the food even though his plate was only half full. 

“I’d need to talk to the parent or guardian first,” Dani said, her stomach flipping at the thought. The peas had made their way around the table to her now, and she slowly scraped the last of them onto an available corner of her plate. Swallowing heavily, Dani concentrated hard on the steady movements of her hands, and said, “Judy, I don’t suppose you’ve heard of anyone new coming to town?” 

Judy’s mouth was full. She frowned thoughtfully as she chewed, and swallowed before answering. “No, I haven’t, now that you mention it. I’ll have to ask around the ladies at the book club if they’ve seen anyone.” 

Any hope Dani might have nursed of learning something new about Jamie’s presence in town flickered out like a snuffed candle. “Thanks,” she said, already feeling the conversation wander towards other topics. “Can you pass the salt, Carson?”

—

Sitting here in her Sunday best with Eddie’s warm hand in hers and a book of hymns in the other, Dani was sandwiched in the pew between her fiancé and her mother. Karen smelled sharply of cheap mall perfume, her dress pressing in tight on her ribs. The priest’s voice echoed from his place declaming near the altar, but Dani wasn’t listening. She was too preoccupied with the way her heart pounded in her chest, the clench of her stomach and the restless nerves that someone might have seen her. 

She hadn’t planned on going to the movies yesterday, not at first. Not until she had seen the ad in Saturday’s morning paper, an art house theater two towns over advertising a one-time showing of Desert Hearts. It had caused such a stir in the community a few years ago that any curiosity Dani had felt toward it had died and shriveled up inside of her. Yet her Saturday afternoon had been free, and Eddie had been mercifully busy after helping her move the last of her things. 

And now Dani sat in the same church she’d been going to her entire life, feeling like a marionette whose mouth was puppetted by invisible strings as she joined the others in song. The priest leading them through a hymn wasn’t the same man who baptized Dani as an infant. The bench she was sitting on wasn’t the same she sat in week after week. The woman on her right was virtually nonexistent. The man’s hand she was holding loosely in her left wasn’t the same man who she grew up with, he wasn’t the boy who asked her again and again to marry him. 

This Dani, this new Dani, lied to her fiancé and drove an hour out of town the day before with a whispered prayer on her tongue for her car to just hold on for once, for just one more day to see a film that left her blushing scarlet and her stomach dropping not uncomfortably, sitting alone in the dark with a carton of untouched popcorn. This Dani would return to her car, and her first thought would turn to whether this would be the kind of movie Jamie would have picked as her choice of their weekly film showing — knowing immediately that the answer would be 'yes.’ And just as abruptly as the thought appeared, she promptly squashed the idea of even contemplating such a question. 

Dani’s voice faltered, wavering over the words as a flash of guilt washed over her when the heat returned to her skin. She looked up at the cross, hanging on the back wall over the priest’s head, and glanced furtively at Eddie to see where he was in the verse, praying no one had seen her stumble. When service finally ended, and the ritualistic gossip on the front steps had been entertained, she allowed herself to be led outside. Eddie’s hand was warm and steady, completely enveloping her own, pulling her to the warm air where it finally felt like she was able to breathe again. 

She felt a heady rush of relief when her mom begged off brunch, claiming to suffer from a headache as she walked to her car with a half-hearted wave. Relieved two-fold when Eddie needed to run off to the office for preliminary work for Monday, kissing her on the cheek in a goodbye that she barely registered before rushing off to his car. Until she was only left with Judy. 

“So,” Judy asked, and for a brief terrifying moment Dani thought she might know, she might have finally seen her. In the end though all Judy said was: “How about that lunch?” 

Judy linked their arms, pulling her in close until all Dani could do was smile and say, “Lead the way.”

The bistro Judy directed them to was relatively new, Dani had passed it multiple times over the last couple weeks but had never actually gone in, always driving by with casual curiosity and a bemused but charmed smile at the name: A Batter Place. 

“You’re gonna love it,” Judy said, guiding Dani in with an arm linked in her own, “Their macaroons are to die for.”

Gamely, Dani smiled along to Judy’s enthusiasm as Judy pointed to various fixtures of the restaurant, steadily ignoring the strain building in the back of her neck. It wouldn’t be fair to say that Judy made her nervous. There were too many good intentions behind her warm eyes and her warm hugs, always with her hands full of containers of hearty food, always holding on a little longer than Dani expected, like she was afraid Dani would drift away. Judy, she knew, at least cared. 

Perhaps that was why, after settling in their seats and ordering their lunch, Dani hid her hands under the table, fingers trembling as they picked at the skin of her thumb. 

“So, how have you been, honey?” Judy asked over her cup of coffee, smiling that kind, good-intentioned smile. “I feel like I’ve barely seen you since school started up again.”

A small pressure valve released in Dani’s chest, and she finally allowed herself a real smile. “I’ve been keeping busy, and well — you know how it is with a new school year. This year especially is different.”

“Because of the higher grade?”

“Right. And I just — I want things to be perfect, you know?” Dani said, and chuckled ruefully, “Though twenty-five twelve year olds will certainly be a challenge.”

This she could manage. This she could at least be grateful for, the way Judy allowed the conversation to steer towards something that filled Dani with a sense of purpose, smiling proudly at her over the din of conversation around them with no mention of Eddie or long overdue wedding planning. 

Judy took a pointed sip of her coffee. “Well, I know you like the challenge, but you can’t forget to take care of yourself,” she said, her lips pulling into a familiar smile. One to be used when nearing a cornered animal. Dani’s stomach sank, when Judy continued, “Now, I know you and Eddie need time to get used to living together, doing all the things couples have to learn to do alone but, you don’t have to steer clear of the house forever. I know we all recently just had dinner together but —”

Dani glanced away. 

“— You could come over at any time. Like yesterday! What were you up to yesterday? I would have made lasagna for you.”

“Oh, uh —” Dani gave a nervous breathy chuckle, hoping to hide the grimace at the memory of the two women who had stared brazenly at her when she had exited the art house theater yesterday, Dani in her too bright blouse and high jeans, looking frazzled and out of place. She took a long sip of her coffee, hoping to hide the same feeling under her skin now. “You know. Busy.”

Judy waved her explanation away with that same smile. “Oh, well, never mind that. It doesn’t matter now. There’s always next weekend,” she said, and her hand reached over to clasp Dani’s before she could hide it again. “I’m just hoping I get more time to spend with my favorite future daughter-in-law before things get too crazy. Wedding planning and teaching a class of twenty-five kids is one thing, but thinking about raising a baby is another.”

A moment passed before Dani could process the words. A baby. Of course. 

“Oh,” was all Dani managed to say, a polite smile frozen on her face as Judy’s grip on her hand tightened in a way that anyone else would have found comforting. The hand that Dani so wanted to pull away, to press against her chest. A pressure building inside her ribs, pulling her skin taught and straining at the edges. A ringing in her ears that sounded more and more like the whistle of a tea kettle or the whine of an over-revved engine. 

She was only saved by the grace of their food arriving, the pressure abating to something manageable as Judy freed Dani’s hand to make room for their plates. It gave Dani the opportunity to down half of her coffee, hot enough to scald, and to clench a fist under the table, her nails pressing hard into the soft skin of her hand.

At the first bite of food, Judy hummed and sank back into her seat. “Now that is delicious,” she said, gesturing with her fork. “Go on, take a bite.”

Dani took advantage of the moment, letting the previous topic of conversation pass over them untouched as she pulled her own forkful of food in her mouth. She blinked in surprise. 

“Wow,” she said after swallowing, sharing an incredulous chuckle with Judy. “That is really good.”

“I’m telling you, this new chef knows what he’s doing,” Judy said with a grin, as if she had known exactly how Dani would have reacted. 

It should have been comforting, being so well understood. And for the most part it was. Afterall, Dani had spent much of her youth at Judy’s table, being fed day in and day out as if she were Judy’s own. Always having a safe haven. A home away from home, where she would be welcome. No questions asked. It should have been an absolute solace. Yet somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being made of glass. As if she were standing there and Judy was looking right through her at someone else that didn’t exist. 

The bell attached to the door rang as it swung open, and the sound drew her back to the table, almost startling her. She swallowed down an unexpected thickness in her throat, ignoring that steady pressure in her ribs, and shared another unassuming smile with Judy, taking a second bite. 

“We should come here again,” Dani said, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure that was building in her lungs. 

“Then it’s a date. Next Sunday.” Judy smiled wide. 

It was so easy, making Judy happy, making her smile wide and bright like she’d won the lottery. It was something Dani was good at, pleasing others. The very thought of speaking up and potentially ruining the moment was enough to cause a vein of dread to thread its way through her. Yet something in that moment caused Judy’s smile to flicker, the sound of the bell ringing again as the front door swung open with a squeak of unoiled hinges. Judy’s eyes glanced over somewhere behind Dani’s shoulder and they slowly widened to an expression Dani had only seen once before — when Eddie announced their engagement during family dinner. 

“Jamie Taylor?” 

Dani tensed and turned around, and sure enough, there she was. Jamie Taylor herself. Dark jeans, big work boots, and a brown jacket, strolling into the bistro like she’d never left town. Like the air from Dani’s lungs hadn’t been sucked out by a gut punch releasing every single pressure valve at the very sight of her. 

“Oi, Sharma! Whatever happened to you saying you could fix those hinges without my help?” Jamie’s voice rang clear across the room.

“Danielle, honey, you didn’t tell me that Jamie was back,” Judy said in a rush of breath, already out of her seat and walking toward Jamie like a woman on a mission, as if there wasn’t a hurricane forming within Dani’s chest. As if a swell of feeling wasn’t rushing through her as she sat unmoving with wide eyes attached to the lines of Jamie’s back, to the curl of her hair, unchanged, unkempt, and yet completely different. 

Whatever Dani had expected to feel upon hearing that voice again, it wasn’t to feel all of it at once. She didn’t know which feeling to land on, watching Jamie turn at the sound of Judy’s voice, catching sight of the familiar lines of Jamie’s face as they twisted in surprise and fell into a charming smile as Jamie conceded to a tight hug from Judy; the fluttering of happiness, the rush of anxiety, the desperate desire to flee, the shock that belied the anger and muted resentment. 

In the end, Dani just sat there, unable to move and unable to look away. 

The pair pulled out of the hug, with Judy briefly and affectionately framing Jamie’s face with her hands like she used to. And Jamie rolled her eyes good naturedly with a crooked smile, burying her hands in her pockets. It was like no time at all had passed. They were teenagers again, and Judy was sending them off back home from dinner with warm hugs and piling their hands with leftovers in tupperware. 

When Judy gestured over towards their table towards Dani, it was all she could do to not run and excuse herself to the washroom, to not slip out the back door. But it was too late, tension coiling in her body as Jamie’s head turned towards Dani and their eyes finally met. 

It was suddenly incredibly hard to breathe. Dani blinked, and the look on Jamie’s face at the sight of her — startled, mouth agape — was gone, and all that was left was something entirely unfamiliar. A polite placid smile as Judy talked her ear off, answering Judy’s questions and gesturing across the counter towards a handsome man with a thick moustache wearing an apron. Even so, Jamie only had eyes for Dani, her gaze occasionally roving back, her expression unreadable. 

Before Dani could do more than stare, Judy was guiding Jamie back to their table, a hand on her back. Dani’s stomach twisted itself into a knot at their approach. Her heart began crashing against her ribs until it was all she could hear. Jamie was looking at her with that crooked grin, and Dani didn’t know what else to do but stand from her seat, faintly dazed, a hand brushing against invisible lint and wrinkles along her sky blue dress. 

“Look who I found!” Judy said as they pulled up to the table, as if Dani hadn't been on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the last minute. The last decade, if she were being honest with herself. 

All Dani could do was give a trembling smile. “Jamie,” she said, almost breathless, the name feeling foreign on her tongue. “Hi.”

Jamie’s grin shifted into something like a smirk, gaze drifting over Dani so fast that she felt it on her skin like a flash fire. “Danielle,” she said, and Dani’s smile faltered. “Been a minute.”

“It has,” Dani said in between barely gritted teeth, the feeling in her stomach souring. 

“I was just telling Jamie how this is the first time I’ve brought you here,” Judy interrupted, oblivious as ever. Jamie’s smirk dropped back into something softer, an eyebrow quirked and her head tilting curiously. “How today of all days, that we all walk in the same restaurant together. It must be kismet.”

“Don’t know about that, Mrs. O’Mara. Was never much one for kismet,” Jamie said with a shrug, looking so much like she’s sixteen again that a dull pressure returned to Dani’s chest. “World’s too chaotic for that.”

“And yet here you are.” Judy shuffled back into her seat and gestured to Jamie. “Come, come sit. Just for a while until your takeout is ready.”

It was only by the grace of luck and Judy’s affection for Jamie, that she gestured toward the chair next to her instead of Dani. Jamie didn’t argue, taking the seat, and Dani following after, almost a second delayed from the shock of it all. She could feel Jamie’s eyes on her as she settled in her chair, but Dani kept her attention low and focused on her food, feeling distinctly like she was in a dream.

“Danielle, truly, I can’t believe you neglected to tell me Jamie was back,” Judy admonished with a teasing grin. 

She clenched her teeth. Dani had a hard time believing it herself. “Must’ve slipped my mind," she said.

“How long have you been back again, honey?”

“About two months now,” Jamie said. At the admission, Dani finally pulled her eyes away from the table to look up at Jamie, lounging back in her seat like she had all the time in the world, noticeably avoiding Dani’s gaze.

Two months. Two months, and not even a phone call. Not even a letter. Dani took another heady swallow of her now lukewarm coffee in an effort to ground herself. Some things just never changed, she guessed. 

“We were so worried when you left, after — after everything, especially. We all were. I thought about you for so long afterwards. Kept you in my prayers,” Judy said, and while the words were sobering with the memories of those days, Jamie’s expression remained unchanged, detached and ambiguous, the corner of her mouth quirked. 

“Then I guess I have you to thank,” Jamie said, “All that praying must’ve done something good. Mikey and I have been getting on quite nicely, if I do say so myself.”

Judy gasped, a hand clutching at her chest. “Oh, Mikey! That sweet boy, how is he? Oh, I can’t believe it’s been so long. He must be — what? Eleven now?”

“Twelve actually,” Jamie said, then chuckled. It was something new. The way her eyes turned just a bit brighter, her smile more gentle, as she reached into her pocket to dig out a beat up leather wallet, flipping it open towards Judy. Judy gasped again, holding onto the wallet with a laugh. “Twelve years old and already reaching my chin," Jamie continued. "The little gremlin’s gonna have me beat by next year at this rate, I swear.”

“He’s wonderful,” Judy said, her eyes alight with emotion, “Gosh, he looks just like you. Except for the eyes, those sweet brown eyes. He’s definitely going to be a heartbreaker.”

“Not on my bloody watch,” Jamie grumbled. 

“Have you seen him yet, Danielle?” Judy held out the wallet to Dani, who had to refrain from recoiling back, as if Judy was holding out a live snake. 

“I have,” Dani admitted quietly, “He’s one of my students, actually.”

“Oh, so that’s what all those questions were about the other day,” Judy said, and tapped Jamie playfully on her arm resting on the table with her wallet. “What did I tell you? Kismet.”

Jamie flipped the wallet shut and returned it to her pocket. “Mikey did mention the name once or twice. Miss Clayton this, Miss Clayton that, and I thought: what are the chances?”

Dani swallowed down a scoff and the bitterness brewing in the back of her throat. Her left hand ached from clutching it so tight in her lap, knuckles white, crescent-shaped grooves in her palm. She stretched her hand out and ran it through her hair, her fingers trembling as they smoothed down the gentle waves and curls she put in that morning. 

“Ah, so he’s done it then,” Jamie said, apropos of nothing. She leaned forward on the table, staring so abruptly and intently that Dani shifted away in her own seat slightly, hoping she hadn’t noticed. 

It was the first time Jamie had fully addressed her since that singular hello. Dani frowned, that ever present knot in her stomach twisting tighter. “Sorry?” 

“That nice big shiny rock on your hand.” Jamie gestured down to the aforementioned rock, and sure enough, there was her engagement ring, shining bright against the afternoon light pouring through the window. “Must’ve cost a damn fortune.”

Dani had thought the same, when Eddie had dropped to his knee, proffering up the box where the ring lay, his face flickering through a wide array of emotions — adoration, anxiety, hope. At the time all Dani could think, staring down at the large square cut diamond, was that it looked heavy.

“But isn’t it gorgeous?” Judy gushed, reaching out to grasp Dani’s hand to pull it closer for Jamie to see. Dani breathed out an awkward laugh at the sudden motion but let herself be dragged along. “I went to help him pick it out, and — gosh, well, we all know how many times he’s asked over the years. Our Danielle always liked to keep him on his toes. I just about died at the news when they officially announced the engagement a few months later.”

Jamie whistled low. “I can imagine,” she drawled.

Judy continued to ramble about the announcement. She released the hand that Dani tried to surreptitiously and swiftly return under the table, hoping to hide the desire to shrink under the table as well. Meanwhile Jamie seemed to be only half-listening, watching Dani with a tilted head and a sharp glance that left Dani feeling like a strip of overexposed film. Her eyes strayed to Jamie's old scar against her will, landing on the long stretch of a pale line that started from her lower lip and descended down towards her chin. It was usually hard to see, but today it was easy to find in the light of the room.  

Dani swallowed thickly and glanced away. 

“So, how’d he do it?”

“Mmm?” Dani looked back up, a little dazed. 

Jamie’s head tilted pointedly towards her. “Ed,” she said. “How’d he go about it this time? To be honest with you, I had my bets placed on senior prom night, like he’d always planned. Flowers in the park after the dance, and all that rubbish.”

“He told you that?” Dani frowned. 

“Wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Oh.” Dani fiddled with the ring, glancing down at it. “No, it was um — “ She smiled, a frail subdued thing, only to fold her right hand over it, covering the diamond so that it dug into her palm, “ — it was during a dinner date.”

Jamie lifted an eyebrow. “In public?”

Dani nodded. “Yeah.”

“Christ,” Jamie breathed, looking somewhat horrified. 

“Language, sweetie,” Judy piped in, seemingly instinctively. 

And like clockwork, Jamie ducked her head sheepishly. “Sorry,” she said, not looking sorry at all. 

Judy laughed, patting Jamie’s arm. “Gosh, just look at us,” she breathed, her eyes shining as they bounced between Dani and Jamie. “I still can’t believe it. Me and my girls back together again. Who’d have thought?”

Dani breathed out a chuckle, her cheeks aching from the force of holding a smile in place, not knowing what else to say. And what could she say, really? That none of this felt familiar? That it all felt so wrong? That after years of absence, to finally be just arm’s length away from Jamie, only to feel like she was meeting a stranger wearing a familiar face?

No. No, that wasn’t right. She worried her lower lip between her teeth, but Jamie had never stopped watching her. A shared look passed between them and it was there, finally, that she found something warm and tangible. The ghost of a memory of sitting across the table from each other at Judy’s during dinner, sharing a secretive knowing smile, while Judy gushed over Dani’s help in the kitchen, or admonished Jamie for yet another skinned knee. A smile pulled at the corners of Dani’s mouth, slow and real. Jamie blinked, her gaze softening as she mirrored Dani’s smile, and for the first time in a long time, Dani felt something in her chest unspool.

A bell rang. Jamie glanced away, and the moment was gone, leaving Dani chilled in its absence as if she had stepped out from a warm building and into a storm.

“That’s my cue,” Jamie said, sounding just as she had before, as if nothing had transpired between them. “Can’t let the kid starve without some lunch.”

She moved to stand but Judy’s hand held her in place. “Don’t think you can get away again this time without at least letting me give you my number,” Judy reprimanded not unkindly. "We got a new one at the house, you'll be surprised to hear."

Grinning crookedly, Jamie said, “And I imagine you’ll be wanting mine, then?”

Judy pulled out a pen from her purse and waggled it back and forth. “You know me too well.”

Grabbing a spare napkin, Judy jotted down a series of numbers. “Now don’t you forget to give me a call, all right? I want to hear all about your time away,” she said, handing over the pen and napkin for Jamie to rip out her piece, and note down her own number. Dani’s eyes strayed down to the confident, angled numbers, just barely able to decipher them from her vantage point. “And I hope you know, you and Mikey are welcome any time over for dinner. I want to meet that young man. See if he’s anything like his older sister.”

The words were fond, but Jamie snorted all the same. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. O’Mara. He’s my better half.”

Dani rose to her feet out of politeness when Judy stood to give Jamie a parting hug. For a terrifying moment, she thought Jamie might expect one from her as well, but Jamie only lifted her eyebrows and nodded before turning towards the counter to collect her order. She didn’t glance in Dani’s direction again as she left, pushing through the glass door and striding off down the street with the breeze in her hair. Dani watched her go, jaw aching from how hard she was clenching her teeth together.

Judy sat, and Dani followed suit as though she were simply mimicking Judy’s movements. “Jamie Taylor back from the dead after ten years. Imagine that.” Judy chuckled to herself and picked up her fork. “Feels just like old times, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dani breathed. “Just like old times.”

[the-blind-assassin-12]

The Jilted Tourist - 2

A/N: This here is the cream filling of this little oreo series. (That was a weird analogy but Imma leave it in there.) Benjamin already heard all about Joss’ terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, but how much of his is he willing to share with her? And will it make him feel any better to do so, or will it only shed light on other issues? Oh boy. Bartender? Another! 

Word Count: 4,014

Warnings: marital problems, swearing

“Misery loves company.” 

Jocelyn’s sarcasm echoed in his ears as he paced the sidewalk, pressing the home button on his phone again to refresh the screen. Is that what I am? Miserable? Are we… he sighed. Is that where we are? 

The end of his lit cigarette glowed bright orange through the ash as he took a drag and stared at his phone. There were no new messages and she hadn’t tried to call again, so Benjamin read and re-read the last few texts in the thread between himself and Julia. He released a plume of smoke with an exasperated exhale as his screen went dark, the low battery reminder notifying him that he only had 20% battery life remaining. Flicking the excess ash from his cigarette with his thumb, Benjamin swiped the warning away to read her messages one more time. 

Not going to be able to make it until tomorrow morning. Something came up with Marsha and she’s in a bad way- staying with her tonight. 

Call me when you get this. I hope you’ll understand. 

He’d called her immediately, as he was already in the train station waiting to meet her, one hand clutching the cellophane covered bundle of lilies that he’d picked up on his way, the other pressing his phone to his ear. A train rushed by as he asked “What?” but he wasn’t asking because he couldn’t hear. I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Dimming his phone he shoved it back into his coat pocket and took another puff of his cigarette as he kicked the curb, watching a piece of stone crumble from a crack in the facade.  

The weekend trip had been Julia’s idea in the first place, and while Benjamin would have been just as happy coming straight home after his final presentation to spend the weekend with her there, Julia had insisted that they go away to celebrate. He had agreed only because he knew, or at least he hoped, that the real reason that she had suggested a getaway was because she was trying to show that she was putting effort into their marriage. 

The plan had been for Julia to take a later train from Devon to meet up with him in London. While most of Benjamin’s classes had been conducted online, he occasionally had to commute into the city for exams, meetings and presentations, and the last day of his first full year of his graduate studies program was one of those times. It was Friday evening, and they were supposed to check into their hotel and order room service and champagne for dinner. The rest of the weekend was unscheduled so that they could spend it however they wanted. It wasn’t until now, after he’d listened to Jocelyn explain to him why she and Edmund would have never worked out, that he realized that this plan, this getaway, was just another way for he and Julia to hide. It’s getting harder to go forward so we’re trying to go back. 

He hadn’t seen it because he hadn’t wanted to, it was as simple as that. He wanted to believe that it could help, spending time away together. But it won’t. The thought scared him because he knew that it was true, and now that he’d been forced to see things for what they are, he knew that he and his wife would be no closer to fixing things even if she had bothered to meet him as planned. He flicked his cigarette away, wondering if there was anything that could make Julia put their marriage first on her list of priorities. Don’t. He took a deep breath in through his nose and closed his eyes. Don’t ask questions that you don’t want the answers to. He knew better. Taking another deep breath, he fought back the tightness in his chest that was threatening to take hold and the dizziness that his fear of things falling apart always brought on. Not now. 

Benjamin swallowed, the thick feeling in his throat clearing, and opened his eyes again. No sense in… just, not now. He’d been working on controlling some of his runaway thoughts, reeling them in before they had a chance to feed his anxiety. It had been a long time since he’d had a bad attack, but he knew that if he didn’t actively keep it in check, that sleeping monster would creep right back around the corner to cripple him. Blinking again as the sky darkened around him and street lights started to glow more brightly against the night, he sighed and felt the noose around his lungs loosen before heading back inside. 

He hadn’t been gone for that long, not even finishing his cigarette, but in his absence the small pub had filled noticeably, the room louder and warmer with the addition of more bodies. At first glance he thought perhaps Jocelyn changed her mind; that she’d paid her tab and left, gone back to her hotel to think things over or possibly even renege on her previous claim that she never wanted to speak to Eddie again. But before he wondered if that might be for the best, or if it might be what he should do, she leaned around a portly gentleman, eyes scanning the crowd and widening as they fell on him. With a small smile she waved, looking glad that he had returned, and he side-stepped a cluster of businessmen as they pulled at the knots in their ties, making his way over to where she sat. 

“Just in time, Benjamin, I don’t think I would have been able to save you a seat much longer.” She pulled her feet from the rungs on the bottom of the stool next to hers. Oh. He froze momentarily, staring at the empty seat. Jocelyn’s eyes flicked down to where his had landed, and she chewed her bottom lip. That’s close. Due to the increase in the number of patrons, there was no longer a spare seat to act as a buffer between himself and the young woman, and again he felt himself questioning what Julia would have to say about him sitting close enough for his knee to bump hers. Jocelyn seemed to see the thoughts crossing his mind. “Or, I mean, if you’d rather stand, it’s-” 

“No,” he shook his head and pulled the stool out, taking a seat before she could finish her sentence. “This is...it’s just more crowded than I expected. It’s fine.” 

She passed him one of two beers that she had her hands wrapped around as he sat. “The more the merrier, isn’t that how it goes?” 

“That depends on who makes up the more,” he answered, taking his glass from her and making sure not to make contact with her fingertips as he did. She hasn’t been flirting or anything and I haven’t either, but I just… I want to be…  

Her responding laugh was louder than Benjamin anticipated, which lead him to believe that Joss was exactly as drunk as he thought she was. “Oh,” she sighed dramatically as she lifted her glass, looking through the golden liquid at the bright lights above. “How true that is.” She laughed again, this one more quietly, just for herself, then took a long drink from her glass. “If Eddie walked through that door over there,” she gestured to the door Benjamin had just re-entered the pub through  with her glass, the contents sloshing but not spilling. “He would not make it merrier that’s for sure.” She laughed again but the sound was hollow, and she set her glass down as she shook her head. 

Damn, this bloke really hurt her. Benjamin took a swig of his drink as he tried and failed to come up with something comforting to say. But who am I to give advice on this? His track record with relationships was about as dodgy as the past that he was constantly trying to outrun. Not exactly at my best right now anyway. 

“So,” Jocelyn relieved him of having to say anything, turning to face him as she swept a piece of hair back behind her ear. She was at the point in her intoxication where she was wavering between emotions, sadness behind every laugh and hurt giving way to mischief in her eyes. I’ve been there. “You heard my sad sack story.” It’s not...you aren’t- “You wanna tell me about your bad day, Benjamin? How you ended up here with the loneliest tourist in London?” She pressed her hand to her chest, indicating that she was embracing the title she’d just bestowed upon herself. 

“Uh,” He paused, mouth open and one eyebrow arched. That was the point of coming back inside, right? But suddenly he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to share about his day; about Julia. Though she had no problem airing her grievances about him to anyone who would listen, Benjamin had never once said anything negative about her to anyone at all. It’s not other people’s business, just hers and mine. Running off to complain about the person that he loved felt wrong to him, even though he knew that even perfectly happy couples grumbled to their friends about little things here and there. We don’t have little things though, do we? And… He took another sip of his beer to buy himself a few more seconds to think. Eyes flicking to Jocelyn over his glass, he made his choice. And it sort of is her business now, she already knows I’m upset, and I wouldn’t have even met her if Julia hadn’t...  He swallowed and set his half-empty glass down. “Yeah, if you’re sure you wa-”

Joss’ already large eyes widened and she turned as much as she could to give him her full attention. “I’m sure. Get it off your chest, trust me, it feels…” Her eyes lost focus then and traveled over Benjamin’s shoulder, but just as he twisted to see what she was looking at, she scrunched her lips and shrugged. Oh, there’s...nothing. “Well, it feels. But it might feel good, so why not try?” 

Can’t argue with that logic. “Alright.”  He cleared his throat and sat forward in his seat, placing his forearms on the edge of the bartop. “I...well today started out good, actually. Really good.” 

He thought back to the morning, waking up before Julia, leaving a kiss on her cheek that she wouldn’t feel through her sleep, and heading into London to give his final presentation for the semester. He felt a mixture of nervous energy and accomplishment as he went over the finer points of his paper’s thesis on the train. He even let a little anticipation and excitement seep in as he nudged his overnight bag with his foot, stowing it under his seat. He may have thought that the getaway was unnecessary at first, but now that it was here, he couldn’t help but look forward to sharing this with his wife. 

“Mmm, see mine started out with a free coffee from the Krispy Kreme in Newark Airport, so I thought it was really good, too.” Joss nodded. “Never saw it comin’, then,” she smacked her hands together in a loud clap, a few heads turning to see what had caused the sound. “Bam! Good start gone.” Yeah, sort of… “But,” she tilted her chin downwards, then brought one hand up to her lips, miming the motion of turning a lock. “Go on, please.” 

Benjamin let out a short burst of air through his nose. “Yeah, well, I paid for my tea this morning so,” he shrugged. “It wasn’t all perfect I suppose.” That got a snort of laughter from Jocelyn, though she kept from interjecting again. He ran a hand over the top of his head, palm scrubbing back and forth over his hair before he dragged it down over the curve at the base of his skull, fingers gripping his shoulder before his elbow returned to its starting point. “Today I had a presentation for my graduate studies program- my final one for the year.” 

This time she couldn’t keep quiet. “Oh, alright smarty pants.” She waggled her eyebrows as she took a sip, almost draining her glass. She should slow down, she’s… worry about yourself, Benj. “And what was that smarty pants presentation on, hmm?” 

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “You don’t really want to hear about-” 

“Yes! Tell me what your paper was on!” Her volume control seemed to have vanished, but she at least realized how loudly she was speaking and lowered her voice for the rest. “You’re telling me a story, Benjamin, you can’t leave out the details, the details are important.” 

They are. After the novelty of having a husband in graduate school had apparently worn off, Julia had stopped reading his papers or asking in depth questions about his studies. “My paper was on the disintegration of the Edwardian order in Britain following World War I, and how it allowed for what we now refer to as Modern British History.”

Jocelyn laughed, forehead wrinkling. “Yeah, I… have no idea what that all…” She nodded in his direction, her lips pressed together. “Thank you for telling me. Please, continue.” 

Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t… “So I gave my presentation, and I… well I don’t know for sure, I haven’t heard back from my professor or anything, but I, I think I did really well. I mean, I know that I researched and I did all the work. ” He couldn’t help the hopeful lift in his voice as he spoke, acknowledging that he was proud of the job he’d done. “And I know, it doesn’t...I’ve still got a long way to go in my degree, but I…” He moved his left hand in a circular motion as he spoke, the overhead light glinting off the gold band he wore on his third finger and catching his eye. His heart pounded harder for a few beats as he wondered why it was so easy to spill his thoughts out to this person he didn’t know. Because she’s listening. That realization scared him more than his question, but he shook it off and kept going. “If you asked me a few years ago if I’d ever be back in graduate school I’d have laughed in your face, it was just… well I never thought I’d get this chance and to have it going well, it-” 

“It’s exciting.” Jocelyn smiled. “Good for you, you should be proud.” She hummed. “It’s like...one thing that one’a my professors said one time that really stuck with me. It was what encouraged me to take some time between undergrad and my masters, but anyway she said that no one can set your timeline for success but you, and not even you can hurry it….or...something along those lines, but,” she shrugged. No, that’s… one hundred percent true. “It’s great that you got the chance, Benjamin, and you should be happy and proud and all that about it. Don’t downplay it just because it took a while or because you still have more to do.” 

I wish I had that kind of clarity at her age. He was impressed with her wisdom and maturity, even as she sat three sheets to the wind beside him. “Yeah...thanks, that’s…” He gave her a small smile. “That’s a good outlook, good advice.” With a sigh, he returned to his story. “My wife decided that as a celebration, we should spend the weekend here in London. I’ve been,” he sniffed. “Busy with my classes, and still trying to write part-time on the side and we’ve...not really spent a lot of time together lately so…” He let his sentence trail off and though he hadn’t said that he and Julia had been drifting apart, he could see in the way that Joss nodded that she understood the unspoken. 

“That sounds like a nice idea,” she said with a positive lift to her tone. 

It is...until you see the whole picture. “Well,” he lifted his glass to his lips, the top one curling as he paused his motion to speak. “As you can see,” he took a drink and used the back of his free hand to wipe his mouth before flipping it over to reveal an empty palm. “I’m here and my wife is not.” 

“Hmm...yes, I can see that.” She moved her empty glass in a circular pattern through a puddle of condensation on the lacquered bartop. “So uh… where is-” 

“Oh, her friend called, something… some family thing that she’s,” he reached up to remove his glasses and pitched his nose before pushing them back on. This is the part where it hurts. “This friend of hers, they have a long history and they’ve recently just...well there was a year or two when they’d had a falling out, so now that they’re mending things, Julia- my wife- she,” he sighed. “She feels like she’s making up for lost time I think, so she needed to go help her friend and I can’t fault her for that, it’s just-” 

“Just that this trip was her idea and she cancelled on you last minute.” Jocelyn cut through Benjamin’s babbling to say what he was hemming and hawing around. Yes. Exactly. Something close to anger flashed in Joss’ eyes then and it took Benjamin by surprise. “It's a shitty thing, feeling pushed off.” She shook her head. “Feeling like you’re not a priority or...or not a top one, anyway.” 

Yes, it is. It feels terrible. Julia had so many priorities in her life already when they met. She had her family, her gardening, keeping up the estate, maintaining her membership with the various committees and boards she belonged to for museums and libraries. It was a wonder she’d made any room for a husband at all. But now he was starting to see a truth that was even more hurtful than if she’d simply misplaced her priorities. Now he saw that he never really was one. “Yeah,” he finally agreed. “Yeah, it…” he sighed and picked up his glass, finishing off the last dregs of his drink. “Anyway, she didn’t have much time to talk so I’m not sure how things are going but she’s supposed to meet me tomorrow morning so we can still spend Saturday and Sunday but…” But I would rather just go home. He didn’t dare bring that idea up to Julia, already sure that she would take it as him being ungrateful for her wanting to do something nice for him. It’s not worth it, I’ll just…

He wasn’t sure if it was the disappointment, the hurt, the couple of ales or the conversation, but a weight dropped into his stomach then as a thought crossed his mind. It should be worth it. She’s my...this is our marriage. It should all be worth it, even if I know how she’ll react, it should be worth it for me to tell her how I feel. He rubbed his fingertips against his palms, feeling the perspiration pooling between the crossed heart and life lines in the center, that anxious buzz in his brain that he’d banished before coming back to the bar starting up again. Talking to my wife shouldn’t make me feel… He blew out a slow breath as he looked down at his hands, that rope around his lungs tightening. His eyes clamped shut as the sounds around him started to fade, leaving only the buzzing and his thoughts. 

“Benjamin?” 

Blinking and jerking his head back up at the light touch he felt to his bicep, he took three quick breaths, eyes falling on Jocelyn’s fingers against his sleeve before flying wildly up to hers. Shit, I- She seemed concerned, but she visibly relaxed as he swallowed, and he realized that she must have said his name more than once. 

Pulling her hand back like she’d touched a hot flame, she let out a breath. “Are you okay?” She asked the question quietly, but there was no pity or judgement in her voice. He nodded and blinked a few more times, focusing on evening out his breathing as the room slowly came back into definition. “Good.” She sighed. “Look, I’m… sorry, Benjamin. I’m sorry about what happened to you today and I’m sorry about how you feel. It’s…” she sighed again and that crack of anger flashed in her irises once more. “You seem like a good man. A good husband. And you don’t deserve to feel shitty.” 

Hearing her compliment him, even though her opinion came based only on the last couple hours of interaction nearly brought tears to his eyes. I think I am. He sniffed. “Thank you for saying that. And thank you for...for listening and for,” he released a breath and felt the next one come more easily. “I think I really needed to hear what you… just thanks, right?” 

Her eyes had softened, that flash of rage all but gone. “I’d say ‘any time’ but I literally cannot wait to leave this country, Benjamin.” Her casual response helped bring him the rest of the way down, a tentative laugh even causing him to smile. “But really, I’m glad that I...glad we did this. I think we both needed it.”  

Despite the fact that he’d been nothing but annoyed every time he’d been summoned to pour an ale, the bartender appeared unsolicited and cleared his throat. “Closing out my tabs, shift change comin’ in.” It wasn’t a question, nor was he offering either of them anything else before he clocked out for the night. He passed both Jocelyn and Benjamin their cards along with their printed tabs.

“Well I guess that’s our cue, huh?” Joss ignored the bartender and directed her question at Benjamin, who passed his card back, telling the man to use it for his bill. But Joss reached behind herself for the strap of her bag, mumbling about using the cash she’d gone through the trouble of exchanging upon her arrival. But she misjudged her tug, the strap of her bag getting snagged between hers and Benjamin’s chairs, and she tumbled off her stool. 

Woah. Benjamin’s hands shot out to help the woman steady herself, though she managed to stay on her own two feet without needing his support. “Easy, are you alright?”

She rolled her eyes and groaned. “Ugh, yes, I’m fine, sorry, and thank you.” She plopped her bag on the counter and pulled out a stack of neatly folded paper money, going through and handing over the right amount before turning back to Benjamin with a sigh. “I am hammered, sir.” 

You sure are. “Yeah, looks that way. Do you...where are you staying? Do you know how to get to where you’re-” 

“I’m just around the corner,” she gestured as he stood, the two of them collecting their belongings. “Just,” she pointed towards the door and made a popping sound with her lips. “Right over that way.” She told him the name of the hotel where she was staying, and he froze. Of course. 

“Right. I’m staying there too. So I’ll walk you back. Can’t have you…” He shook his head. “London’s been rough enough on you, the least I can do is make sure you get back in one piece.” There’s no way you would get back to the hotel without catching your toe in the cobblestones, and they hurt when you hit them.  

She tilted her head, hair swinging over her shoulder as she slung her bag there as well. “See? I was right.” Using the same finger she’d pointed out the door with, she moved it in a circular motion towards Benjamin. “You’re a good man, Benjamin Greene.” With that, she turned and took a long step towards the pub’s exit, leaving him no time to agree or protest. 

Am I? Blinking, he hurried after her. 

“Joss! Slow down, would you?” 

.

.

.

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[peachyteabuck]

study buddy, part iv

series summary: after crushing on you since freshman orientation, Natasha finally gets the guts to ask you help you pass her postmodern lit midterm, to which you agree.

chapter summary: for the first time in her life, natasha romanoff freaks out about a test grade. luckily, you’re there to coach her through it. 

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 4,253

trigger warnings: talk of past drug abuse, mention of sexual assault, heavy smut, fluff, unhappy childhood mention 

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

part one, part two, part three

You’re already soaking when Nat teased the head of the toy at your entrance, your arousal evident by the sounds of the silicon as it rubbed against your slick, smooth folds. With each drag a whine escaped you, each second that passed by met with another flood of heat across your skin. “Ple-ease,” you sniffled as fat tears welled up in your eyes and your voice broke from overuse. “Please, Mommy, please”

Natasha just let out a hearty laugh, moving the strap away and replacing it with her fingers. As she spoke, she just barely dipped them inside of you. “Oh, c’mon baby girl. Was that not enough for you? Do want Mommy to give you more? Huh? Are you such a greedy little slut you can’t appreciate what your Mommy gives you?”

You nodded furiously, your “yesyesyesyesyes”s just above a low whisper as you rolled your hips. Your words slowly but surely turned to babble. “yes mommy yes please I’m your little slut I want more please give me more.”

Natasha laughed again as she leaned forward to invade your line of sight once more.

“Mm, might have to be careful and fuck you nice and slow,” she mumbled into your collarbone, the bruises still deep purple. The thin layer of sweat that had formed there made her smile. “Don’t want to break this perfect little thing I’ve been gifted.”

You shook your head violently, grabbing at the sheets so hard your fingers went cold and where each bone met the next ached. “No, no no please, please fuck me Mommy please please touch me please fuck me please.”

Natasha remained unconvinced by your whining. “You poor little thing. I just neglect you so much. Don’t I?” You struggled to speak as she moved to straddle your waist. The heavy toy moved as she did so, occasionally hitting your stomach as she sat upon you. “Hm. Maybe you should get yourself off if you don’t want to answer me, is that a fair punishment?”

You still didn’t respond with the words Natasha wanted, mind too fucked out to sob properly, let alone speak. Still, the fear of disappointing her cut through the fog, and you nodded weakly.

The woman above you smiled, the eponymous image of something wicked that wanted to make you come in whatever way she saw fit. Beside you, placed expertly by Natasha with equal distance between each toy, rested at least four different vibrators of varying strength and shape. If you were lucky enough to get off at your own hand, it’s unlikely Natasha would allow you to choose which weapon will lead to your destruction. Somehow, that thought is worse than anything else she could do to you; forced to bring yourself to the edge (or deny yourself such release) without the dignity of choice but ultimate control over choice of action seems like stories of ole, when disgraced knights caught in their desertion were forced to sacrifice themselves in front of large crowds with the weapon chosen by their ruler.

Empty promises of autonomy, spiritless last chances at reclaiming pride…that’s what they all were.

But you still can’t find it in yourself to complain when Natasha slipped the most powerful of the set into your hands – a battery powered Hitachi colored a matte black – and told you to edge yourself. Your throat burned by then, each breathy moan felt like it’d been ripped out of you with acrylic lesbian porno nails. That sure as Hell didn’t stop you, though, from moaning with each roll of your hips as the woman above you flipped it on.

It didn’t stop Natasha, either, as she cradled your tear-stained face with her pussy-wet hands and told you not to stop until she said so.

“C’mon, baby,” she cooed. Her lips grazed across your cheek as she did so. “Do what you’re told, lemme watch you. Show me how cute you are when you get yourself off.”

It’s so much so quick, every sensation making your whole body shake violently. Natasha mocked you as it became too much, sneering when she pulled the toy away from your center and you screamed in protest. “Can the little slut not take it, hm? Does Mommy not letting you cum make you sad?”

You didn’t say anything, terrified of worse punishment.

Natasha slapped your chest, leaving your breasts angry and hot. “Answer me.”

“Yes!” You cried. “Yes Mommy I want to cum, please let me cum!”

Natasha just rolled her eyes. “What you need doesn’t matter. And keep whining like that…” she paused to pinch one of your nipples and ignored your wails. “I’ll really give you something to cry about.”

This continued three, four, five more times (how many you still can’t exactly be sure), each worse than the last. You’d get there, right at the peak, right at the edge of the mountain, right before one jumped into an ocean, and then-

“Stop. Now. You’re done.”

And then you’d cry and whine high in your throat and thrash around. Somewhere between your lip starting to bleed from you biting it and your drool forming a pool on the sweat-slick pillow she started to fuck you, a horrible and terrifying slow pace that was steady and painful and holy shit you didn’t even know they made fake cocks that big.

Natasha laughed as a particularly poignant thrust almost made you lose feeling in your hands and feet, your strangled weeps sounds that only encouraged her. “There we go,” she murmured, reaching over to grab a bullet vibrator before she turned it on and slipped it under the strap on. She only got more feral, fucking you harder as the vibrations gave her more pleasure than she expected, more pleasure than she ever could’ve dreamed of.

It was almost too much, the feeling of your body under hers and the sounds of your moaning and begging mixed with the soreness in her muscles of her abdomen and the tightness just beneath that, the sweet vibrations on her clit and the sight of you – all stretched out with your knees pressed to your heated ears and jaw slack and eyes scrunched shut and hair wild against the pillow and something, something incoherent but still so beautiful falling from your swollen lips.

Some words, not most, but some, she could decipher. “Mommy, mommy, please please don’t stop I’m gonna cum please make me cum.”

And oh, did she make you cum.

It didn’t feel the same as the last time, doesn’t feel as sudden. Deeper almost, earth-shatteringly so.

Natasha’s wearing the same shit-eating grin, though her eyes are much more hazy and tears prick the corners of them as well as your own.

“You keep soaking my sheets like this, babygirl, Mommy’s gonna have to make you pick up the tab,” she chuckles as she pulls out of you.

For a moment you just laid there, twitching and gasping as the aftershocks rolled through you, as your pussy clenched around nothing and as your eyes cried without any tears. You couldn’t speak – each time you tried the words fell away from your brain before they could be said.

“You good, baby?” she cooed, rubbing her thumb over your chin and bottom lip.

All you could do is mmm as the world slowly rebuilds itself around you. Natasha chuckles at that, laughed as she pulled the strap-on off and tossed it in the bathroom to be cleaned later. At that moment, she simply grabbed what she needed for aftercare – including the special lotion she had bought for you when Sam had dragged her to Bed, Bath, and Beyond a few days prior.

She cleaned between your legs with a washcloth dampened with cool water – something that normally made you flinch and hiss, but then did nothing as you laid there and panted with your eyes firmly shut.

“You’re always so good for me, baby,” she cooed once she was done. You were too tired to do anything except give a soft smile in response. “You want to take a nap before we gotta leave?”

You were asleep before Natasha could finish her question. She chuckled nonetheless, and kissed your temple before throwing the cloth in her dirty laundry bin (one that you bought her when you had discovered – horrified beyond what you thought was possible – that she just piled all of her dirty clothes into one corner “like some sort of thirteen year old boy at summer camp,” as you had said). She curled up under the thick, heavy blankets with her legs around your waist and arms around your chest.

It was nice, the silence. Natasha welcomed the sleep that pulled at her eyelids, and soon the two of you were asleep just as the rest of the world roared to life.

The alarm – one of several you had in your phone that go off at oddly specific times – woke the both of you with some loud jingling that may or may not be the music box version of some hit emo song that was popular around the time Natasha and you would’ve been in middle school.  

It’s almost an hour after that when you finally regained control over your body, heart returning to a normal pace and legs not aching (too badly) every time you tried to walk. As you slipped on the easiest clothes possible (see: a hood of Natasha’s and some old sleep shorts of yours), you finally noticed Natasha offering you your phone.

“Let me walk you to class?” she more suggested than asked.

It was sweet, and you grinned widely at her and nodded wordlessly as you reached for your phone before you grabbed your backpack and she grabbed her own. It was an interesting juxtaposition, to see your powder blue Jansport artfully stuffed to brim with colored pens, notebooks, sticky notes, highlighters, and your laptop with exactly one (1) sticker (of a cat trying to climb an adorable small cactus) verses Nat’s beat-up backpack that only held one five-subject notebook, a pencil case with five (5) black ballpoint pens, two Mountain Dews, three Monsters, and a half-drank carton of orange juice. Maybe it was dorky to giggle as Nat’s thumb rubbed circles onto the back of your hand, but you didn’t really care. Little butterflies populated your stomach and limbs, but they aren’t nervous. They were too excited to be nervous, preoccupied with the intimidating pretty girl who had accepted you into her tight personal bubble.

The walk to campus wasn’t far, cliques of freshman with lanyards around their necks and frat boys wearing Supreme became more frequent as you neared the on-campus housing area.

When you breach the official campus it’s another ten minutes until you make your way into the hall where your class is being held. Just as the two of you sit down in your seats way in the back, the professor comes in, calmly places his light brown leather briefcase on the table at the front of the class, and then coolly announces that the class will be having a “surprise assessment.”

“You’ll get forty-five minutes once you hear the sound of the timer starting, any unfinished assessments will receive a failing grade,” the professor said with some paradoxical mix of apathy and malice. With each passing second, the lecture hall becomes more and more ablaze with increasing heart beats and sweaty palms.

Immediately, you could feel Natasha tense next to you. As the TA helped pass the quizzes out, you tried to take a moment to grasp her shaking hand. As you wrap your fingers around hers, you tried to reassure her. “It’ll be okay,” you mouthed. “I promise.”

Natasha doesn’t say anything, just sucks in a deep breath and clicks the (your) mechanical pencil to push the lead forward before writing down her name and the date onto the misleadingly thin stack of perfectly stapled paper.

The TA is a dick, even you’d admit that. But she sure does know how to perfect mundane tasks.

As you start on your own quiz, you realize that this isn’t that hard. It’s a few multiple-choice questions, a short essay about Lacan’s influence on Butler. Most of the short-answers questions focus on Baudrillard’s theory about the Gulf War – specifically the role of the media. You’d studied for this, you’ve studied with Natasha for this. Sure, the question on Zizek’s death drive might be a bit tricky, but you’re sure she can figure them out – she’s smart, you’ve explained this to her several times.

With that final thought, you began.

The finished “assessments” were dropped off on the long oak desk set in the center front of the lecture hall, the messy collection of hand-written essays balanced precariously on top of each other – not unlike a late-stage Jenga game with a $1500 an hour fee.

Your walk home with Natasha was just as tense as expected, just as silent and robotic as you’d think she would be.

“For what it’s worth,” you said as she opened the door to her homestead. “I think you probably did well.”

Natasha, in all her dismalness, said nothing.

It didn’t take long for her to rid herself of her pants and position herself on her side of the bed with her laptop opened on her stomach and bottle of alcohol opened in her hand.

She furiously refreshed her grade portal exactly once every 10.76 seconds - just long enough for the page to load, her to log back in, see the lack of grade, sigh, take a swig of dessert wine, grimace at the cheap taste of said dessert wine, and refresh the page again once more.

You were sitting next to her on her bed, trying to proofread and edit the day’s biostatistics notes. Mostly you were putting formulas in their proper formatting, redoing graphs, and color-coding headers and vocab – something you did all the time.

Though, now this relatively-easy study technique had become much harder to do than normal because you were doing it one-handed, your non-dominate one resting under the soft, white t-shirt of the anxious redhead – trapped between the heat of her skin and the fabric adorning her body. Occasionally, you’d run your thumb over the knobs of her spine as an act of comfort, but you’re not sure how helpful the gesture is.

Eventually, you tried to reason with her.

“You know the prof said he’d have them by 8:30 tonight and it’s…” you checked the small clock in the corner of her laptop screen. “Five. Fifteen. And fifteen, sixteen…why do you have the seconds showing on your clock?”

Natasha sighed before taking a particularly long drink of the overly sweet alcohol. “I just…” she shrugged. “I’m just super worried about this, okay? I don’t want to do poorly on this assessment. It’s just important to me.”

You nodded silently before you closed your designated biostatistics notebook, placed it under the nightstand, and curled up into your lover’s side. You were wearing a light pink sweater with a matching headband, black cotton panties, and fuzzy white socks. Natasha placed her face into your shoulder and inhaled the complementary, flowery scents of your deodorant and body wash, pressing her skin into the comforting fabric.

“I get it,” you told her. “You want to do well. Do you want a distraction, or…?”

Natasha sighed, shut her laptop, and pushed it to the carpeted floor. “I don’t even know. I feel like if I don’t think about it then I don’t care and then I’m gonna fail because the magical almighty karma I’ve delicately balanced will tumble on top of me like a Jenga tower.”

For a moment you didn’t speak, unable to find the precise verbal response to such a poetic string of words.

“I just meant ‘do you want some head’ but,” Natasha moved to laugh into your shoulder as you tried to finish your thought through your own giggles. “Yeah, that works, too.”

As you both barked laughter into each other’s skin, all the worries that had surrounded her halo of deep red hair seemed to have vanished, dispersed to bother some other college student with a lifetime worth of debt on their shoulders. With the corners of her lips and the thick of her cheeks sore from the sudden happiness, Natasha curled herself into your side with her chin where your arms met the rest of your body. As easy as pre-algebra, your hand found its way through her stress-mused hair and your fingers worked out some of the knots that have found themselves a home atop Natasha’s head.

It’s silent, the only sound in Natasha’s ears the lazy thump, thump, thump of your heart and the occasional rustle of covers as your legs became entangled like the complicated French braids you’d put in other girl’s hair on the rare occasions your mother let you sleep over at a friend’s house. One of the rare childhood memories you don’t need a therapist’s house to reconcile, a smile spred across your face as you remember how your thin, nimble fingers became worth more than gold to the group of long-haired twelve year-olds who couldn’t quite emulate the fanciful hairstyles they found in American Girl magazine.

“Whatcha laughin’ at?” Natasha asked as she ran her fingers over the seam of your sweater.

You shrugged – carefully, as not to displace her head. You said nothing.

Natasha prodded. Whether it was to take her mind off the impending doom of the surprise grade or because she was curious, you didn’t care. “C’mon, you know you can tell me anything, right? Just tell me what you were laughing at!”

Again, you shrugged. “I don’t know, middle school I guess.”

She grimaced, you could feel her scrunched nose even through the thick fabric. “Ugh, middle school. What’s so funny about the worst three years of your life?”

“I had worse years,” you told her honestly. “Had a few good times, is all. Was thinking about the dumb shit I liked and did.”

Natasha immediately pushed herself up, wide eyes bearing into yours. “You, the sweetest and most innocent and wonderful nerd this university has ever known did dumb shit?”

Before you could respond she was pushing into you, bouncing you against the pillows under your back with reckless abandon.

“Tell me!” She nearly screamed. “Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Tell me! Tellmetellmetellmetellme!”

You were laughing much too hard to fight her off, simply pushed at her with weak hands ad you hoped the much stronger woman would let up. “Give me as second to breathe and I’ll tell you!”

It took a minute for you to catch your breath, face hurting from such pure happiness.

“My mother was super overprotective and overbearing, but every once and awhile she’d let me go to a sleepover. And I figured out if I could do intricate braids all the girls would want to be my friend, and some of them turned out to be super nice,” you tried to calm your mouse-like heartbeat with deep breathes to no avail. “I was just thinking of those good times.”

“That was a lot more tender than I expected,” Natasha admitted with a huff before she fell onto your chest once more. “I thought you were gonna tell me you like, did drugs or something, like sneaking out at night or whatever.”

You rolled your eyes, your hand resuming its position in her hair. “Nah, I’ve been this way my whole life.”

A beat passed after Natasha released a small humpf and resigned herself to cuddling with someone she would barely hesitate to call “boring.”

You’re the one to fill the silence, hoping to bridge the space between the versions of you Natasha does and does not have the (dis)pleasure of knowing. “You know, you’ve never told me about what you were like before college.”

Natasha shrugged, as she knew what to say but not how to say it. “I don’t know. I wasn’t like, cool or anything. Just super depressed and spent a lot of time doing drugs and coding.”

In a move incredibly unexpected, you touched the pad of your first finger to her nose. Natasha, struck by the sudden intimate contact and your undeniable cuteness, did not know what to do.

“It sounds like you were as boring as me,” you giggled. “Just a lot less sober.”

Natasha let out a small laugh, pushing your hand away. “Boring is a good word,” she mumbles. She’s staring off into space now, thinking about how much that time in her life sucked. Once she skipped school for three days straight to take Adderal and snort coke and hack into a nearby tech startup, a CEO of which had groped a friend of hers at a party a few weeks prior. A few years older and she might have been a member of Anonymous, but instead she was stuck in the basement of her house wishing whatever upper she’d bought from that sketchy kid down the street would kill her.

“Babe,” you said with a low voice. It cut through the thick of her thoughts but didn’t free her from their deathly grasp. “You okay? You need anything?”

Nat visibly snapped out of it, turning back to you with a small smile. “Yeah, I’m,” she exhales deeply. “I’m fine.

She flicked your bottom lip with her thumb and stared at your face with focus you’ve only seen painting her features when she’s typing code or working out the kinks of a program or whatever the fuck it is she does. You’re normally too distracted staring at her to fully process her long-winded explanation of what she does for her internship and classes and job.

She’s too pretty, you couldn’t help it.

“You have the softest lips I’ve ever felt,” Natasha mumbled. Her eyes skipped between your glassy eyes and shallow breaths. “Somehow, every day I find myself more and more enamored by you.”

A lump – in the time Natasha had spoken those first and last words – had formed and lodged itself in your throat. Still, you attempt to find your post-verbal footing in your shared affections.

“That’s the sweetest and most sexually charged thing anyone has ever said to me.”

The pair of you immediately fall into a fit of giggles that has both of your bellies and cheeks aching with pure joy that comes from such a statement. Soon your fit of laughter dies down and a quiet settles over you, one that comforts rather than urks you. It’s a canyon’s worth of time later that Natasha moves back up so your faces are nearly touching.

The kiss she gives you is tender, much more so than any other touch she’d graced you with. It’s not so much a surprise – it’s not as if you had never kissed before – but it is…different.

Your hands are still tangled in Natasha’s shirt, and hers have found themselves on either side of your face.

“This,” she only speaks when you pull away to breathe. “Is an excellent distraction, by the way.”

Again, you release a small giggle that is soon silenced with kisses that soon turn deep and desperate as she pushes you down further into the shitty mattress with her now-displaced hands.

But, as your kisses get keeps and her hands travel South, Natasha takes a moment to come up lay small pecks on your cheeks and nose.

A few moments pass with the pair of you gazing into each other’s eyes as if there were complicated algorithms behind them.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?” she asks – whispering low as if you’re some feral cat she’s trying to trap…or maybe something less morbid. You should probably stop thinking any person trying to give you affection is doing it to ensnare you in a complicated plot for more views on their Snapchat story. Still, as Natasha pushes herself up to kiss you – you can hear the guffaws of the popular senior girls from beyond the bathroom stall you cried in.

“Baby,” Natasha’s voice cut through the memory in jagged motions, enough so that your eyes aren’t screwed shut but your hand still feel the cold of the stall door’s nearly-broken lock that keeps said door closed – the only barrier between you and your tormentors.

“Baby, are you okay?” her voice was genuinely concerned – and the lack of ulterior motive had you sobbing. “C’mon,” Natasha held you close, pressed to her and her soft shirt. “Baby, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

It’s hard to do anything but cry – loudly – as she pets your hair and peppers your face with kisses. Her smooth voice is calming, almost enough to stop the tears from soaking your cheeks – but each trauma from elementary to high school still cut into your blurry vision.

You don’t know exactly when you’re able to stop the flow of tears, but it seems to culminate with your eyelids fluttering shut and body slumping against the woman who holds you so tight.

This, Natasha thought to herself, is heaven.

The woman stayed awake for a little longer, wanting to savor the sweet moment a little longer.

Still, the darkness with your steady breathing and blissfully warm skin soon coaxed her into falling into a sleep deeper and calmer than anything she’d ever experienced before. Somehow, she didn’t even shoot awake when her laptop PINGed when her grade updated. But, then again, how could anything like that matter when she had you?

//

@stuckys-whore​

[balancingdiet]

Civilian

Characters: Kaito/Shinichi, Aoko Words: 11.2k LMAO!!! (recommended to open new browser tab before clicking “Keep Reading”) Note: 9 months ago I made this prompt, and I finally did it. Sort of, or at least closely related enough hahhaha Other reading link: AO3

Investigating a supposedly abandoned building shouldn’t be too much of an effort for Kaito, that is if he didn’t have to try hiding his identity from a certain detective as well.

//"It looks so difficult and complex," Kaito lied and heaved a sad sigh. "But I think I can try to unlock it, even though I'm obviously just a normal civilian."

"Aren't you a magician?" Shinichi drawled. "Don't you know how to unlock things?"

"Oh— Yes. A civilian who happens to be a magician." Kaito gave a thumbs up. "That's why I THINK I can do it."//

---

Kaito's life had been flipped upside down more than a hundred times, but if he had to choose the one that remained constant, it would be Aoko's inquisitive senses.

She was easily fascinated in nature. Feisty too, much to Kaito's chagrin. But to be fair, he did leverage on her curiosity plenty of times for his heists' sake, and because of that, he hadn't figured how he would explain all his wrongdoings to her after his life as Kid ended.

So taking one step at a time towards that possible path of forgiveness, he tried by agreeing to most of the things she asked him to do, like trespassing into their high school in the middle of the night, joining that stupid Kid Capture Brigade club she created…

And now this: accompanying her to investigate an abandoned building for their university's student newspaper.

If Kaito had to complain, it would be how far the building decided to abandon itself away from town; the travelling already took them a bulk of their afternoon. But comparing this to the other requests Aoko made in the past, this was no biggie for Kaito. He could already imagine how the day would play out; probably a couple of self-paranoia scares, some trips and bumps over the old floorings, and maybe having someone joining in their investigation—

Wait.

What?

Kaito's life had been flipped upside down more than a hundred times, and one of the reasons was his uncanny luck to meet the people he didn't wish to see right now.

Aoko gasped, just two seconds slower than Kaito's realisation to their new visitor.

Standing by the broken door in his iconic unbuttoned blazer and pants was Kudo freaking Shinichi.

If newspaper articles and television didn't count, it would be three years since Kaito last saw the detective (in his other smaller form). And frankly, Japan wasn't that big, so Kaito should consider that quite a miracle. But compared to those 2D prints, seeing Shinichi in real life struck a heavier chord in Kaito's memories, and there was an equal balance between the fond and not so desirable ones…

Bullets. Blood. Debt

"This isn't an illusion, right?"

Kaito snapped out of his thoughts and glanced at Aoko over his shoulder. He hadn't wished for something so bad since he checked the gem for Pandora last week, but there was no point in trying to delude himself, or Aoko, when standing right there in the flesh was definitely that detective.

But before Kaito could confirm it, Aoko was already standing in front, her lips pursed to bite back her giggly excitement (and maybe to stop herself from exposing her scrapbook filled with Shinichi's articles and whatnots).

"You're Kudo Shinichi!" Aoko clicked onto her pen rapidly. "Like the Kudo Shinichi? Right? Detective of the East!"

"Just Kudo Shinichi." The said man afforded a small smile. "I'm quite over with that alias."

Alias… hah, Kaito thought wryly. And what about the others? Like the reincarnation of Sherlock Holmes, Silver Bullet, once-upon-a-time Edogawa Conan and also the Kid Killer—

"Nice to meet you!" Aoko placed a hand over her chest. "I'm Nakamori Aoko."

Kaito inwardly groaned.

"Nakamori?" Shinichi clarified.

"Yes."

"…Is your father a Police Inspector?"

"You're right!" Aoko's face brightened as she nodded. "He's the Inspector of Kaitou Kid Task Force."

"What a coincidence."

"How did you figure it out? Nobody ever says I look like my dad." Aoko tilted her head. "Is it by my name?"

"That's half of the reason." Shinichi pointing to her belongings. "I noticed you have an interesting Anti-Kid charm, and also the pen you're using was a gift to commemorate the founding anniversary of the Metropolitan Police Department. Only people affiliated to the police will have that."

"As expected of the detective," Aoko said in awe. "I really can't help but admit I'm a big fan of your work!"

Kaito couldn't roll his eyes any further behind his head. "Oi, Ahouko…"

"Sorry." Aoko hastily gestured over at Kaito, as if remembering his existence. "Anyway this is Kuroba Ka—"

"Kuroba is fine."

Aoko snapped a disapproving look and nudged Kaito in the ribs. "Can you sound any less rude?"

"Maybe it's a symptom whenever I'm close to any detective."

Obviously hearing their conversation, Shinichi raised an eyebrow. "Symptom?"

Kaito shrugged. "Like allergies."

"I guess it's better to say he's allergic than repulsive," Aoko muttered.

Shinichi shook his head. "That's fine; it's normal for some people to be repulsive against this line of job."

"Yeah, and maybe because Kaito is also a magician—"

"OKAYYYY that's too much information given. And you also just revealed my name, Ahouko." Kaito tugged Aoko's sleeve, pulling her a step away from the door Shinichi was still standing by. "We're here to do your work, not to chit-chat. Much less with strangers."

"What work?" Shinichi asked, and at the moment Kaito felt like he had fallen into the hole he dug.

"I'm currently helping to write a column for our university paper and I asked Kaito to accompany me," Aoko replied. "There seems to be some rumours going around about this abandoned building so I thought it'd be an interesting topic."

"And those rumours might be?"

Aoko parted her lips, ready to say everything because she was so easily pulled into any conversation like that, but Kaito cleared his throat, stopping her.

"What about you?" Kaito gestured a hand to Shinichi. "What are you doing here?"

Aoko looked excited to know Shinichi's answer too.

The detective, however, shook his head, but at least he had some kind of heart to explain after witnessing Aoko's shoulders fell. "It's police matters and not something I can share with the civilians."

Kaito cheered at the thought of Shinichi regarding him as a civilian, but the first part of his sentence sent a feeling of uncertainty to his gut. Police matters?

"If it's police matters, I'm not sure if the rumours we heard are going to be helpful." Aoko laughed sheepishly. "People said they heard some kind of activities happening at night here, and they think there's… ghosts."

Shinichi finally entered the room, one arm crossed while the other hand touched his chin. "Ghost, huh..."

Aoko tilted her head. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

Mulling for a while, Shinichi spoke, "There are many things one would wish to have a choice to not believe."

Kaito blinked.

Right. Having been shrunk by ten years from ingesting a pill, even Pandora's myth would have a hard time competing for the first place of bullshits that Kaito wished he had a choice to not believe in…

The room had grown too quiet for Kaito's taste. He glanced at Aoko knowingly; she looked lost in her own thoughts too.

He wondered what she was thinking, yet at the same time, he was a little afraid to know.

Kaito cleared his throat, snapping the other two attention back to earth. "Since we have nothing to do with each other and we're about done, shall we go home?" he said to Shinichi and then to Aoko.

Aoko glanced at her pink notebook and clicked her pen absently. "But we haven't been to the remaining floors. And there's also the roof too."

"We've seen nothing new for the past three levels." Kaito waved a hand around. "I bet it's gonna be the same — old and dusty."

"I would also advise you to leave as soon as possible," Shinichi said, stopping Aoko's attempt at a retort. "And if you don't mind, I have a couple pictures of those floors and the roof for you reference. I can send them to you via email."

"Really?" Aoko beamed. "That'll be nice!"

"Why do you need Aoko's email? Can't you just send via Bluetooth now?" Kaito drawled, though Ask was already scribbling down the details on a paper from her notepad.

"My battery is dead." Shinichi fished out his phone, because it was in every detectives' blood to show the evidence no matter what.

Whatever. But at least Shinichi did something right by advising Aoko to leave as soon as possible, and Kaito couldn't help but be thankful for it.

While the two were fussing about the email exchange, Kaito slipped half of his body out of the room and stared at the growingly dark corridor that led to the stairs up the next floor.

Kaito didn't feel it earlier, but after all the things Shinichi said, he wondered if he had been missing some signs.

"Thank you!" Aoko snapped her notebook shut and kept her materials back into her bag, her handmade Anti-Kid charm dangling loudly. "Are you also leaving too, Kudo-kun?"

"Not yet. I still want to explore this room."

"Alright! Take care." After Shinichi acknowledged her words with a nod, Aoko skipped towards Kaito.

"Thought you'd never leave," Kaito said with an eye-roll.

Aoko stuck out her tongue. "Let's go. And don't call me heartless because I remember the promised ice-cream treat after this."

It was never for the ice cream, but he grinned anyway. "Good."

As Aoko walked out of the room, Kaito gave Shinichi a last glance.

To his well-kept surprise, Kaito found Shinichi to be watching his conversation with Aoko, but when their eyes met, he turned away, showing only his broad (and albeit a little lonely) back for Kaito to see.

What a reunion, Kaito thought, before he finally turned on his heels, leaving the man tied to his many forgotten memories behind.

.

.

In the next three days after that chanced meeting, Kaito poured more time researching about Kudo Shinichi than he ever did for his project assignments in his entire university life.

The detective did appear on the media sometimes when he solved murder cases that shook the nation, but other than those, he was often in the back shots or nowhere to be found in the pictures; and easily counting these numbers, he had appeared much less periodically compared to the time before the Organization he dealt with fell apart.

But there was nothing Kaito could find — not from the recent news or about Shinichi — that would make the detective turn up at that abandoned building.

Was he there for his private investigation? What if it was related to the not-so-fallen Organization? A supposedly undetected rat that then grew an army under the sewers?

An email pinged on Kaito's computer, showing a notification about the student newspaper Aoko was a part of being published. It could serve as a small distraction for now (but he knew those thoughts would always be on the back of his mind).

Kaito clicked on the link and kept scrolling till he reached Aoko's column.

"Building lies abandoned, or not?"

As expected, Aoko had mostly written about the things she shared on their train ride back home. The building was abandoned, yes. And it looked too run down to be inhibited by anyone, yes. But what Kaito didn't expect was the way she concluded the mystery with a quote:

"There are many things one would wish to have a choice to not believe."

- A renowned detective who preferred to not be named.

Kaito rolled his eyes.

He guessed the pictures wasn't the only thing Aoko asked from Shinichi, and he wondered if they talked about anything else. Like the weather? How Hakuba sucks? Or…Kaitou Kid?

Kaito sighed and resumed browsing through his 'research', scrolling through pictures of different angled Shinichi looking back at him…

"What am I even doing?" Kaito said aloud to himself and shook his head. "Why should I even care about this, him, and that stupid building? I have my own problems to worry about."

Willing himself, Kaito shut his computer and headed to bed (not while spending the next intervening hours thinking about everything more than once every ten minutes).

.

.

As a reward for completing three assignments and his heist (though it wasn't Pandora) in a night, Kaito decided to give himself a break and take a solo trip to the abandoned building.

(There was no denying he needed to find better ways to spend his free time.)

Kaito parked his bike under a tree, a short distance away from the building's front yard. He usually planned six steps ahead, but given this unfamiliarised environment, he might have to improvise his decisions and timings along the way, which meant trusting the periodical public transport wouldn't be a wise choice.

Twirling his bike keys, Kaito kept them inside his pocket. He skipped past the cracks and rocks and arrived at the front of the building. It looked exactly like how it was, but without Aoko's blabbering and presence, there was nothing to distract him from the sudden unsettling feeling in his gut, like Kid's instinct; a phantom's sense…

Or maybe it was just Kudo Shinichi's fault.

Slipping past the cracks of the door, Kaito entered.

The building had five stories, but due to its extremely high ceiling and long stairs, its true height was way taller than such. Maybe ten? Perhaps. Even at his pace, Kaito was heaving a little when he reached the fourth floor, where Aoko and him didn't explore. He decided to start from there.

Kaito didn't ask Aoko to send him what Shinichi gave her, not that he didn't want to see what it was. He was afraid of her follow-up questions to his curiosity, and if she happened to figure out his intention of revisiting, it would do no good for him or her; he couldn't afford to risk her safety for anything.

But anyway, everything seemed perfectly normal for now. Normal in a sense that Kaito hadn't whipped out his card gun and smoke bombs and started running down the corridors for his life. This was also the fifth room he had explored so far on the fourth floor. Nothing much different from the others he had investigated... except for its size.

Kaito frowned at the new discovery, wondering if he was imagining it before he checked the windowpanes. Yes, definitely smaller. The other rooms had nine windows, but this only had seven. His attention grew high on alert as he looked at every inch of the room more carefully—

Kaito squinted his eyes at the top of the wall. "Is that a switch?" he wondered aloud. The old, cracked paints and cobwebs had covered it well.

Even with the biggest jump, it was still an impossible height for Kaito to reach the switch. He glanced around the room, trying to improvise, but there were only a couple of broken chairs, glasses and debris, which Kaito couldn't make out what they were.

Nothing useful.

If Aoko was here, he could imagine her pulling out her selfie-stick and calling it her secret weapon. But Kaito came just as prepared too; he just wasn't sure if his secret weapon liked to be called in the middle of its napping time.

Adjusted his arm to a right angle, a dove popped its head out of Kaito's sleeve.

"Hello Mochi." Kaito grinned.

It cooed, and if Kaito didn't know better, he would have missed the dangerous intent in its voice. He quickly took out the secret weapon for his secret weapon — some sunflower seeds. Thankful, it worked as Mochi finally came out of its den and flew to his wrist to get its little treats.

"So easy to please..."

After it was done, Kaito pointed at the wall. "Ok, go and flip that switch for me."

It would be a joke if it only switched on the lights or something lame like that, but everything was worth a try.

Mochi fluttered its wings... before flying past Kaito's head and towards the door behind him.

"Oi!" Kaito yelled and ran after it.

Secret weapon or not, his doves could be erratic at times, especially Mochi, which was why he decided out of all his doves, he would bring it with him so they could have a better bonding time—

Kaito froze by the door.

Standing in the middle of the corridor was Kudo Shinichi, his body tensed as Mochi settled on his shoulder. He glanced up, his stunned face turned into a scowl when he noticed Kaito.

"You—" Shinichi snapped, "Is this your dove?"

What on earth... "Fancy seeing you again," Kaito managed to say without giving away the feeling of wanting to jump off the building.

"Get it off me."

Biting back a smile, Kaito pulled out another fistful of sunflower seeds. "Come back Mochi, I'm the real owner with treats here."

Knowing its bargain, Mochi flew away from Shinichi and onto Kaito's wrist, pecking its beads on the seeds.

"You greedy little pig," Kaito muttered.

Shinichi closed their distance, his face still plastered with the disapproving scowl. "What are you doing here," he asked.

"And what are you doing here too?" Kaito shot back.

At least Shinichi was mature enough to not play the I-asked-you-first game. "I'm reinvestigating the scene."

"You've been coming down since?"

"No, I was busy. I'm only free to come down today."

Oh right, Kaito suddenly remembered the news (coincidentally, and not because he was searching up Kudo Shinichi again) about a series of murders that happened all around Tokyo, though those cases were solved within a day or two. At that rate, it got to be Shinichi doing the work.

Definitely very busy for Shinichi.

And definitely very unfortunate, for Kaito, that of all the days to come, he just had to choose the one when Kudo Shinichi was free.

"Your turn."

Kaito blinked. "My turn to?"

"Answer the question."

"Oh." Kaito scratched the side of his nose. "I lost something and came back to find it."

Shinichi eyed Kaito, in a way that brought him back memories of the earlier days when there was nothing but doubt and uncertainty during the beginning of their temporary truce and partnership.

(Kaito wondered how those memories came to him when he thought he had forgotten them all.)

"And you realised it only after two weeks?" Shinichi deadpanned.

"Yes," Kaito said, totally free of the irony.

"What did you lose?"

"Something." Kaito stroked Mochi's feathers when it showed signs of agitations after finishing the seeds. "But please don't mind me. I'm sure your investigation is more important than my lost item."

Shinichi obviously didn't seem satisfied with his answer, but he said nothing else as he walked past Kaito and into the room (while glancing warily at Mochi). Or maybe the detective wasn't even feeling anything in the first place, and those furrowed brows were becoming a default expression of his.

Kaito stood by the door, hesitating. Should he just leave? Then what about his so-called lost item? And more importantly... Kaito stared at the wall where the almost-hidden switch was. He still hadn't figured what its purpose was.

Heck it.

"Anyway, what is there to investigate here?" Kaito entered the room and inconspicuously followed Shinichi around. "I thought you've been to the upper floors already."

"I haven't."

"You haven't?" Kaito raised an eyebrow. "Wait, does that mean you lied to Aoko and I that day?"

Kicking over a debris, Shinichi didn't hesitate to admit. "It was late and dangerous for two civilians to continue loitering around."

Still regarded as a civilian, huh? Kaito grinned to himself at his appointed identity. "Then those pictures you sent—"

"Were duplicates from the lower floors."

"What a liar," Kaito said, though he couldn't help but inwardly wince a little at his own hypocrisy. "I'm gonna tell Aoko and smash your reputation."

"But you didn't hesitate to ride on the lie either." Shinichi raised an eyebrow back in a form of challenge. "You wanted to leave too, no? I helped you."

I wanted to leave because you were there, Kaito thought drily.

But Mochi cooed, as if agreeing out loud for Kaito.

"Oi." He scowled at his dove. "Are you—"

Kaito's little chiding had stopped him from noticing Shinichi halting in his tracks, causing him to knock into the detective's back. Kaito jumped away quickly, hoping their accidental contact didn't change Shinichi's mind in any way about his identity... (He might be getting a little paranoid.)

But Kaito's worry was unnecessary as Shinichi looked too preoccupied with his new finding to care about the bump — he, too, had noticed the switch.

"Oh! What an interesting switch you found, detective!"

With narrowed eyes, Shinichi glanced at Kaito before staring at Mochi on his wrist. "Were you going to ask your dove to help you with the switch earlier?"

"What? Of course not. How would I, a civilian, even notice the switch in the first place? Mochi is here only as my companion."

The side-eye continued. "Then I suppose you wouldn’t know if your dove is capable of flipping the switch on command?"

"Are you asking me, a civilian and his very normal dove, to help you with your investigation?”

"My question only requires a yes or a no."

"I'll take a maybe. Because we'll never know unless we try." Kaito chuckled, turning away from Shinichi and whispered to his dove, "Please don't embarrass me."

That said, Kaito raised his hand and Mochi flew up on cue and towards the wall. It hovered over the switch for a second, head tilting curiously before giving a peck.

A hiss, like a rush of escaped air, came from behind a large cracked mirror hanging on the wall. It turned unhinged on the side and swung open, revealing a secret compartment behind.

"Damn," Kaito breathed out, and this time his surprise was real.

Done with its task, Mochi landed and settled on a debris on the floor, watching.

Shinichi took out his phone and turned on his flashlight. There were stairs leading all the way further up, but it was too dark to see where it led to. Shinichi took a step in.

Kaito followed.

The detective turned, shining his light onto Kaito's face and nearly blinding him. "Aren't you busy with finding whatever you've lost?" Shinichi asked, with a hint of contempt that Kaito couldn't blame him for, given his previous dismissal to Shinichi's concern for his missing item.

"I figured this might be a little bit more interesting." Kaito grinned in reply. "And who knows, maybe you'll need my help again?"

"If I remember correctly, it's your dove that did most of the job."

"I raised it with my blood, sweat and tears so that has to be something."

Shinichi gave a mild roll of his eyes and finally shone his phone away and towards Mochi's direction. "Is your dove not following?"

"Mochi hates confine spaces."

"Hm." Shinichi made a noise that sounded neither happy or upset and continued his way up the dark stairs.

At the last second, Kaito ducked out from the compartment and scattered more sunflower seeds on the ground. "Stay here okay, Mochi. Don't go around finding any poisonous worms."

Mochi was already busy eating to even acknowledge whatever Kaito said.

He just prayed it understood and hurried to follow the light; to where Shinichi was.

.

.

The long stairs eventually led to a room, which was pitch black at one second but lit up the moment Shinichi first stepped inside; the ceiling lights switching on one by one.

Kaito squinted his eyes, trying to get use to the sudden brightness. "Judging by the sensors, does it mean we're the only one here?" 

Shinichi didn't answer, but he stood there, as if waiting for something to happen.

Kaito was almost tempted to hum just for the sake of it.

"I can't guarantee that," the detective finally admitted when nothing seemed to be able to confirm his speculations. "But keep close to me, in case anything happens."

Kaito considered feigning scared, but he didn't want Shinichi to legitimately think he was and send him out of the secret hideout. "Ok, detective."

"And don't touch anything."

"Yes yes."

Shinichi kept his phone and surveyed the room while Kaito quietly did his own.

The room looked way more decent than any of the ones outside; there were signs of people staying here, or been here, keeping the dust and cobwebs away. In the middle were three chairs surrounding a large table, and on it were two ashtrays full of burnt out cigarettes, a couple of files and some empty water bottles.

Shinichi pulled out a pair of gloves from his pocket and put them on before picking up a file. His frown deepened every time he flipped to the next page.

Kaito strained his neck, trying to peek at the file's content. "What's that?"

"Records on some trades they made, though it's in codes so I have no idea what the trade is about, for now," Shinichi muttered. "The most recent trade happened last week. It also states another one is happening in three days."

"Maybe it's drugs?"

Shinichi stiffened.

"Or weapons." Kaito quickly added.

"Either is likely." Shinichi shut the file and placed it back where he found it. He left the table and began scrutinizing the shelves against the walls, though there was nothing but rubbish on them, as far as Kaito could tell.

Kaito looked back at the file, contemplating. Giving his civilian status, he couldn't possibly ask whether everything here was related to the Black Organization...

"Is this the police matter that you've talked about?"

Shinichi hummed. "Not what I expected."

Huh? "What do you mean?"

"...Besides the ghost rumour that Nakamori mentioned, there were others that were circulating and keeping people away."

Is he changing the topic? "Like what?"

"Witchcrafts, curses, or... experiments." Shinichi paused. "Witnesses claimed they saw the lakes that goes downstream from this building turned black or green a couple of times."

Kaito was almost tempted to believe in those rumours if he didn't know Akako was currently in England with Hakuba right now... Unless she knew some spells that could teleport herself back and do her weird things here. But given the evidences of these illegal trades and whatnots, Kaito trusted Akako enough to know she wouldn't be a part of it, despite how creepy she could be sometimes (he was still dumbfounded to this day to why Hakuba was willing to accept her like that).

"So... What were you expecting in the first place?"

Shinichi stared at Kaito over his shoulder.

Seconds passed so long it felt like minutes. Kaito cleared his throat. "Uh... Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing." Shinichi glanced away.

"You didn't answer my question."

"I don't see why I have to tell you either.

Kaito inwardly sighed. "Fine. Whatever it is, maybe there's something more we can find in there." Kaito pointed at the rounded corner of the room that led to another door.

Shinichi abandoned the crushed soda can on the shelves and followed the direction to where Kaito pointed. There was a door like Kaito mentioned, but it was passcode lock; not as easily accessible as it was to the room they were in.

"It's locked," Shinichi grumbled out the obvious and leaned an ear towards the door. "I can't hear anything from here either."

"Let me try." Kaito bent down to the glowing keypad. Ha. Easy peasy lemon squeezy. He recognised this system like the few museums he had broken into before. He just needed to disable it and it should do the trick.

The only problem was Shinichi's intense gaze on him.

"It looks so difficult and complex," Kaito lied and heaved a sad sigh. "But I think I can try to unlock it, even though I'm obviously just a normal civilian."

"Aren't you a magician?" Shinichi drawled. "Don't you know how to unlock things?"

"Oh— Yes. A civilian who happens to be a magician." Kaito gave a thumbs up. "That's why I THINK I can do it."

"Ok," was all Shinichi said (and Kaito thanked heaven for that). He pulled out another pair of gloves from his pocket. "Use this."

"Thanks." Kaito accepted it, though he had his Kid's gloves on him as well.

He made a show of trying to put the rubbery and sticky gloves on that Shinichi grew bored and went back to the shelves to inspect those soda cans again. Taking the opportunity, Kaito whipped out his tools from his sleeves and began his habitual tinkering.

Ten seconds. Three dying beeps. The glow disappeared.

"Done."

"That's fast," Shinichi commented when he returned to Kaito's side.

"Beeeeeecause luck is on our side." Kaito laughed. And not waiting for Shinichi to say anything more that could risk his identity, Kaito pushed open the door.

The sensors acted again, lighting up the next pitch-black room and revealing rows and rows of guns, grenades and boxes of bullets. And on the other side of the large room were piles and piles of blank paper, which were going to be used for creating counterfeit money with the big printing machine behind. Next to the machine were big bottles of black and green ink.

"I think this should explain everything," Kaito said.

They headed to different direction; Shinichi checking the weapons and Kaito looking at the papers. Kaito had to admit these were of good quality and the criminals would definitely reap what they harvested from their investments. But too bad their dreams were gone and they would be spending at least twice of their lifetime in jail for all these smuggling and counterfeiting crimes—

Make that thrice if Kaito count in the fake paintings and jewels too.

At the blind spot of the room, Kaito found a high stack of famous paintings, and next to them on the floor were at least three dozen of Big Jewels encased in a large transparent glass box. Being more familiar in this line, he could tell with one look they were all fakes.

"Jewels?"

Kaito jolted from his squatting position, his heart nearly leaping out of his mouth. He half turned, scowling. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Why? Are you planning to steal something?"

Kaito tried to look offended. "Of course not."

"Are they real?" Shinichi gestured his head at the gems.

"The answer is obvious, isn't it?" Kaito muttered (whilst trying not to choke on his nervousness). "If they are into the business of printing counterfeits, these stuffs got to be too."

Shinichi looked amused. "A nice deduction."

Kaito scowled at Shinichi's head after he turned away. Is he being sarcastic or what?

Whatever. Kaito whipped out his phone and took a couple of pictures. Regardless if Shinichi were to bring down these bad guys or not, he should at least keep a note on these forgeries; if a similar jewel came up on the news, he would double check its authenticity rather than holding a heist for nothing—

A sudden slam from the door.

A series of gasps.

Kaito turned.

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

Remaining in his squatting position, Kaito crawled across the room and peeked his head from behind the money printer.

Aw crap.

Two men. Two guns. Both pointing at Shinichi.

"I SAID WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!" and "RAISE YOUR HANDS!" were both screamed at the same time.

Shinichi obeyed the second command while keeping his lips sealed.

No Soccer ball this time to save your life. Kaito thought mockingly as he ditched his rubbery gloves.

One of the men turned to his partner. "You know what, let's just shoot him before the others find out that someone came—"

A flick of his wrist and with his card gun in hand, Kaito shot at the ceiling lights.

The room turned to an abyss.

"What the?!" A cocking sound from a gun.

"Oi! Don't shoot! Unless you want to accidentally set the grenades off, idiot!"

Memorising every position, Kaito rushed out from his hiding spot and grabbed what he knew was Shinichi's wrist, pulling him along as he made a dash towards the door.

Before the lights in the first room flickered back on, Kaito shot them out again; they weren't needed anyway. He continued running past the table and out of the room, the only comfort he could find amidst this havoc was the warmth of Shinichi's wrist and his mint-scented breath—

"Shit." Kaito clicked his tongue, staring at the darkness on the other end of the stairs. "The mirror door is closed."

"Look." Shinichi flashed his phone's light to their right. "There's another stairs here."

"I guess it's a risk we have to—"

Multiple gun shots rung in the air, and Kaito thought he felt a bullet flew past the top of his head.

No words were needed as they rushed up to wherever the stairs led them too. But like the other stairs in the abandoned building, it was long and seemingly endless. Kaito was two seconds away of giving up when he felt a faint wind brushing his cheeks before the pale light from the dark sky touched their skin.

They reached the roof.

Slipping his card gun up his sleeves before Shinichi noticed, Kaito panted, "Now what?"

Another gunshot rung in the quiet night and the echoes of the thunderous footsteps continued, only that they were getting louder.

It was Shinichi's turn as he pulled Kaito's wrist, dragging them to the roof's ledge; five level of floors but with the height of ten. Kaito gulped, his surprise turned wary as the tip of their feet inches away from nothing. There was no way they would go without at least a broken spine if they jump down.

Unless...

Shinichi grabbed the front of Kaito's shirt.

"Use your damn glider."

"Uh— Huh?" Kaito blinked rapidly. "My what?"

"Kaitou Kid's glider! I'm sure you have it on you now!"

Shinichi was right on the mark, but what Kaito didn't understand was how he figured about his identity? Did he notice the card gun?

But there was no more time to think or waste.

Two sounds of gunshots.

It was do or die.

Kaito knocked his left shoulder, sending his hidden cape flying out from the back of his shirt before solidifying into wings. Aoko's weight worked before, but Kaito wasn't sure if Shinichi's would. He kept the hesitation to himself and showed a smirk.

"Bridal style?"

Shinichi scowled. "Are there other options?"

"Nope."

Scooping Shinichi up, Kaito jumped off the roof and glided his way towards the forest that stretched infinitely beyond the dark horizon.

But Kaito's worry wasn't unwarranted — the glider indeed couldn't manage both of their weights. And Mother Nature hadn't been kind too. The wind's direction was going against their favour, and before they knew it, they flew down instead of straight after a distance and went crashing into the forest below.

.

.

"Thanks. I owe you one."

"My only request is don't meddle with my future heists anymore, little detective."

"...Ok." .

.

Kaito had no idea how long he passed out, or maybe he didn't and felt like he did, but no matter the case, the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Shinichi, his face dark and earnestly serious as he stared at whatever that was in front of the bushes they were currently hiding in.

It was one of the men earlier.

"So did you find anything?" the man said into the walkie talkie.

A static. "I found a bike. Maybe it belongs to Kid and his accomplice."

"Get rid of it."

"Of course. And what about you? Found anything?"

"No. The ground's all messed up and I can't tell what any of the marks are."

"...Why do you think Kid is here anyway?"

The man shrugged, as if his partner could see it. "Maybe he wants to find a new hideout? But we got it first."

A static laugh. "Anyway, should we tell this to the others?"

"No. What if they pretend to make a big fuss and use this opportunity to cut our shares in the profit?" The man lowered his voice. "It's not like that thief can report us when he's a criminal himself."

"You're right."

"Let's forget about it." The man gave his surrounding one last look. "I'm going back to the hideout right now."

"Ok. I'm coming back too."

Until the sound of the man's footsteps was completely gone, Kaito heaved out a sigh of relief.

Shinichi did too, but more discreetly. "The coast is clear." He glanced at Kaito. "And you're awake."

"So I did pass out."

Shinichi nodded. "You landed headfirst."

Kaito groaned, the thumping headaches coming as if cued. "No wonder."

Shinichi brushed the leaves away from his face and stepped out of the bush, not without checking the direction where the man left once more. He put out a hand for Kaito.

"Thanks for the offer but I can't move," Kaito admitted much to his reluctance. His entire body was aching so much that he had trouble lifting his arm.

Surprisingly, Shinichi didn't complain. He bent forward and pulled Kaito up by the arm, but now all of Kaito's aches turned to jolts of pain.

"Ow, ow." Kaito made a dying whale noise as he struggled to keep his balance. The last thing he wanted was to fall on Shinichi.

"Your leg is bleeding." Shinichi widened his eyes. "I didn't notice it when I drag you behind the bushes."

"Bleeding? It must be just a scratch— Oh damn I am bleeding." Kaito sighed. He couldn't tell from the darkness, but he could feel the dampness of his blood soaking the bottom of his pants. "This sucks.”

"Clearly."

"For your information, my landing is always perfect. This is the only exception."

"I didn't ask."

"Just thought you should know."

Ignoring him, Shinichi helped Kaito out of the bushes and set him down on the forest floor. Kaito didn't notice before, but when the sky cleared and some light miraculously managed to cast through the forest overhead, he spotted a bruise on Shinichi's right cheek.

He didn't go unscathed either.

"Are you okay though?"

"Nothing as bad as yours." Shinichi unclipped Kaito's cape.

"What are you doing? That's our only mode of transport."

"Based on the current circumstances, there is no point for the glider now." Shinichi put out a hand. "Give me a pen knife. Or whatever tool you have to cut your cape."

"Why?"

"A bandage for your injury."

Jii would be so mad, but was there really a choice? Kaito sighed and flicked his wrist, producing a penknife like what Shinichi wanted.

There was no warning or whatsoever when Shinichi began wrapping the cape around the opening of Kaito's wound. He dug his fingers into the ground and suppressed a groan. He needed a distraction from the pain, but Shinichi wasn't giving him any either so Kaito had to find it himself.

"He— Hey, how did you know that I'm Kid?"

"Why don't you guess?"

"Don't you love to show off their deductions?" Kaito mumbled. "Just enlighten me."

"I don't mind seeing your confused face."

"What you're seeing now is my super-in-pain face, not confused."

"Sorry," Shinichi suddenly said, which ironically made Kaito confused.

"For what?" Kaito asked warily.

"For this."

Shinichi finished the bandage with a tight knot and it almost sent Kaito's soul out of his body. He grabbed the remaining cloth of his cape and pressed it into his face, muffling his groan.

"Okay, I'm done."

"You— You're going to kill me first before I even bleed to death," Kaito snapped. When Shinichi ignored him and returned the penknife, Kaito continued, "Was it my card gun that gave it away?"

Wiping whatever off his forehead, Shinichi slumped onto the floor next to Kaito and heaved a sigh. "It's before that."

"So that jewel question was a taunt?"

"Yes."

Kaito gave Shinichi a withering look. "Then was it the lock? When I managed to disable it so fast that even the Detective of The East couldn't believe it."

Shinichi rolled his eyes. "Before that too."

"What?" Kaito sighed irritably. "Just tell me already."

"I can consider, if you tell me why you came back to the building in the first place."

Kaito blinked. That was an unexpected trade. "Didn't I say I lost—"

"You and I clearly know that I don't believe in the lie at all."

Kaito scoffed. "Why do you want to know anyway? I'm there for my own business."

"Did that man hit the jackpot?" Shinichi raised an eyebrow. "Are you really looking for a new hideout?"

"No."

A tug played at the corner of Shinichi's lips. "But that's the only reason I can think of for you to be there."

The question suddenly got Kaito remembering about the unspoken reason to why Shinichi was there, too. He said it was police matters, but it all didn't turn out to be what he expected...? Since Shinichi already knew his identity, Kaito supposed it was alright to be frank:

"Are those people related to the Black Organization?"

Shinichi's face turned into a blank. "What?"

"The Black Organization, or whatever that you used to call them."

Shinichi lowered his gaze. "No. But maybe they are inspired by them. Who knows?"

That didn't sound comforting. Kaito frowned. "So were you investigating if these jackasses are part of the Black Organization?"

Shinichi nodded, much to Kaito surprise — Not by his answer, but his willingness to admit it so quickly.

"I've never stopped finding any possible traces of them even after their downfall," Shinichi explained. "So when I heard the rumours, I thought it might be plausible... with the experiments and all. But seeing their operations — the sloppy hideout and the way they handle their trades — I figured it wasn't them, though that doesn't mean they aren't my concern too."

Hah. That was why. Kaito nodded. Shinichi's reason totally made sense, and now Kaito only feared for his embarrassment if he explained his. So why was he here? Because his gut senses told him there was more to the abandoned building. But why did he care? Because Kudo Shinichi was also investigating this. And how did that matter?

Kaito honestly didn't know.

But it was more important to make sure Shinichi didn't know.

"Speaking of which..." Kaito jabbed a thumb towards the direction of the building. "What are we going to do about them? Do you have your police mates to call for backup?"

"I lost my phone."

"It's okay, I have—" Kaito's grin faded as he stared at his cracked and black screen after fishing his phone out of his pocket.

Shinichi didn't bother waiting for Kaito to finish his sentence. "We might have to stay over the night and figure it out tomorrow."

"Isn't it too late?"

"Their next trade is three days later; there's still some time before anything goes out of their hideout."

"So are we gonna stare at each other until the sun rises?"

"You should sleep," Shinichi suggested after glancing at Kaito's bandaged leg, his face, and then his leg again.

"I don't need sleep," Kaito said, and shook his head. "Or more like I can't sleep with you around me."

"I'm not interested in you."

"Touché. But what I meant was because you know I'm Kid."

"I'm not going to do anything about your other identity." Shinichi crossed his arms. "I promised you, didn't I?"

"Thanks. I owe you one."

"My only request is don't meddle with my future heists anymore, little Detective."

"...Ok."

Ah. The realisation came a little late, but now Kaito remembered it and not as a dream. The blurriness of the memory and the throbbing pain in his head definitely didn't help, and maybe sleep was really what Kaito needed.

"Are you not going to tell me how you figured my identity out?" Kaito tried for the last time.

"No."

"Fine. The conversation is now boring and I'm really going to sleep." Kaito scooted his butt and laid on his back, not before gathering his cape and crumbling them into a ball to use it as a make-shift pillow.

After getting comfortable in his position, Kaito glanced at Shinichi, who was still sitting cross-legged by his side. "Anyway, it might be tempting, but don't watch me sleep."

"That's the last thing I'll ever do."

"Before you die. So it means you'll rather watch me sleep than die."

Kaito turned on his side, back facing Shinichi as he began pretentiously snoring.

It was nice to have the last word in.

.

.

"Kid."

Kaito — Kaitou Kid — glanced away from the night view, his cape flapping wildly as he made a suave turn to his new companion on the roof.

"Hello, little detective."

"It's all done," Edogawa Conan said.

With all that scuffle earlier, it was amazing to see Conan only with a bandage on his cheek. Even Kaito suffered worse when he wasn't the main star of the show; he managed to temporarily fix the large gash on his right arm after stealing some supplies from a nearby hospital, though Kid's costume covered his imperfections perfectly.

"Is that Shuichi guy alright?" Kaito asked, while keeping his tone nonchalant for the better part. "He received quite a nasty shot in the stomach."

"He's fine."

"That's good."

That Shuichi guy was one of many people Kaito disguised as per Conan's request during the final showdown with the Black Organization. But even though Kaito didn't interact or personally know him, it would still disturb him if something bad had happened to the person he copied his face from.

"So... it's really done, that Organization of yours."

Conan nodded, his face remained solemn. Even after three hours had passed since everything, he still seemed stuck in that war.

"Are you going back to your original self soon?" Kaito smirked, trying to dispel their current mood to a better one. "I'll miss staring down at you like this. And also, a pity that I can't disguise you so freely anymore."

"Funny," Conan sneered.

"Shouldn't you be thanking me instead?"

That put things back into perspective for Conan. He gave a resigned smile. "Thanks. I owe you one."

"My only request is don't meddle with my future heists anymore, little detective."

"...Ok."

"I guess this is the last time we will ever talk like this." Kaito tipped his hat up. "Don't miss me."

"On a serious note," Conan said, looking very seriously so. "If you ever need my help, I'm willing to give it to you, just as much as you did when I asked."

"Thanks, but as a Kaitou, I prefer to do things alone."

"My offer still stands."

Kaito raised two fingers to his eyebrow as a salute. "Take care, little detective."

He leaned back, falling off the roof with grace before his cape turned to wings.

It was an amazing exit.

But most important of all, his landing was perfectly done.

.

.

"...roba. Oi Kuroba. Wake up."

"Ugh, give me five more minute…"

A sigh. "The two men seem to be on the move."

Kaito flung open his eyes.

Everywhere was still dark—

Like on that roof.

"De— Detective?" Kaito blinked, staring at Shinichi's face above his. "You've grown... bigger."

Shinichi frowned, moving his face away from Kaito and stood up from his squatting position. "What are you talking about?"

"Uh, nothing." Kaito sniffed and sat up. "What happened?"

"I said the two men seem to be on the move." Shinichi gestured his head over to the building's direction. "I thought to ask you to come and... see." He suddenly looked hesitant as he glanced at Kaito's bandaged leg. "I hope your sleep rejuvenated you a little."

"Yeah, I'm feeling better now," Kaito said, which was the truth. "But I need a hand."

Shinichi stuck his arm out for Kaito to lift himself off the ground. He dusted his legs and attempted a stretch. The bleeding had stopped for now, but it still ached when he tried to move, though it was nothing that Kaito or Kaitou Kid couldn't endure.

Shinichi took the lead as they manoeuvred their way down the forest path and towards the building. The sun hadn't risen, but there were signs of activities from the birds and bugs in the forest. It made Kaito wonder how long he had slept.

"Have you been keeping a lookout the entire time?" Kaito asked.

"Yes."

"You didn't sleep?"

"No." Shinichi gave Kaito a glance. "Your snoring was too loud for me."

A second ago Kaito was feeling bad, but he wasn't anymore. "I can sue you for defamation."

"By all means—" Shinichi stopped and raised his hand (and this time Kaito was quick to realize before he knocked into Shinichi again).

They were a few steps away from the end of the forest.

Exchanging a silent signal, they crouched together before making a dash out of the forest, past a small field, and towards the row of thick bushes that surrounded the side of the building. Ignoring the pain from his leg, Kaito kneeled on one knee to elevate himself better and observed from behind their hiding spot.

True to what Shinichi said, the two men were standing in the front yard outside the building, one looking at his watch while the other was on his phone.

"Are they waiting for something?" Kaito whispered. "Do you think they changed their trading time?"

Shinichi shook his head next to Kaito. "They don't have any goods with them, but I can't say for sure."

The sun was slowly rising, taking shadows and darkness away with its light. Kaito used the opportunity and peeped at Shinichi. He looked tired but focused, but what Kaito couldn't believe was how his hair remained the same throughout the entire day and night.

Life's fair like that.

"There's a van."

"Huh— Oh, yeah. A van." Kaito regained his composure, acting as if he totally wasn't distracted and thinking about Shinichi's hair three seconds ago. He looked over just in time to watch the said van driving into the front yard of the building. After parking, three men got off; the driver twirling with the key like how Kaito did for his bike.

Aw, Kaito missed his bike.

"I think they are changing shifts," Shinichi said.

"If only there is a way we can get onto that van." Kaito pulled out his card gun from his sleeve and checked his cartridge. "Hm, I only have two shots left. Should I try?"

"No," Shinichi snapped. "You're injured. They are armed. Or at least two of them are. It's a risk we can't take."

"Is that concern I hear, detective?"

"It's dread." Shinichi sent Kaito a disdainful look. "I don't want to carry your dead body back."

Kaito kept his card gun grudgingly. "Then now what?"

Shinichi touched his chin, thinking. "We can—"

"What the hell!"

In sync, they looked at each other before raising their heads like two rabbits looking out of their burrow, trying to detect the cause for the yell.

Kaito gasped.

Mochi?!

Failing for who-knows-how-many-times, the driver's comrades tried to swat Mochi away as it flew up, out of their reach, before swooping down to peck the driver's face again and again until he finally dropped his key onto the ground. Before they could react, Mochi snatched the keys with its beak and angled its flight towards Kaito and Shinichi's direction.

It dropped the key onto Kaito's hand and flew away again.

"Wh—Who is there!" one of the men exclaimed, noticing Kaito and Shinichi's heads above the bushes.

"Shit, is it Kid?"

"Kid? Like Kaitou Kid?!"

But their conversation didn't continue, and neither did they manage to pull out their guns to start a war, because at the very next second, they were all swarmed by a flock of birds; their hands too busy trying to protect their face and eyes from being pecked on.

"Mochi!" Kaito exclaimed to the sky. "Our life saviour—"

Shinichi grabbed Kaito's wrist, pulling him up. "Let's run already!" he yelled.

Registering the chance, they jumped over the bushes, sprinting across the front yard and towards the van.

One of the men was a little smarter than the rest — he suddenly laid flat on the ground, his face briefly away from the attacking birds as he whipped out a gun from the back of his pants.

But Kaito noticed it too. Before he pulled his card gun out, he tossed the key to Shinichi and then shot, hitting the man's gun away and out of reach.

As if realizing what they missed, more birds swooped down and attacked that man.

"Get on!" Shinichi already started the van.

Kaito did.

As Shinichi reversed the vehicle to get back on the road, Kaito unrolled the window and whistled a special tune only his trained doves would recognise. A flutter of white, and in a second Mochi flew into the van and settled its wings on Kaito's headrest.

Shinichi sped off.

Kaito let the silence fully sink in before ruining it with a heartfelt sigh.

"What a fantastic morning exercise." Kaito waved his card gun in the air. Maybe he should save his last card shot as a memento.

"…How many doves do you own?" Shinichi asked.

Kaito watched the wing mirror. The birds were still attacking, but after Mochi left the group, some started to disperse, as if the fun was over for them.

"12."

"That looks nowhere close to 12," Shinichi retorted. "The number's got to be at least three times of that."

"None of them were my remaining 11 doves." Kaito laughed and patted Mochi's head. "Mochi probably made some friends in the forest and gathered them for help."

Shinichi looked like he wanted to comment on something but didn't in the end.

"Oh." Kaito snapped his fingers. "I know the answer now."

Shinichi's eyes remained on the road. "Know what?"

"It's Mochi, isn't it?" Kaito grinned. "Because clearly, only the amazing Kaitou Kid can raise a dove so smart and well. That’s how you figured my identity out."

"I won't deny that your dove is smart, but no. It has nothing to do with it."

"Can't you just tell me already?" Kaito grumbled.

Shinichi shook his head, but a small smile danced across his lips until they disappear. "Why don't you be useful and find me a phone. I need to call for backup before they take everything and escape."

"Oh, right." Kaito straightened, deciding to focus what was more crucial on hand. He leaned forward and patted around the bottom of his seat, trying to feel for a secret phone. But remembering Shinichi's opinion about these men in comparison to the BO, he opened the glove compartment, revealing a dozen of phones, probably stolen.

"Nice," Shinichi said, which was a little funny because it sounded like what Kaito would say instead.

"Lady Luck is really shining on us." Kaito picked one out and switched it on. "The day can't get any better."

Shinichi gave Kaito a side-long glance. "Your leg is bleeding on the seat."

"...Damn. I almost forgot about that."

.

.

"Abandoned building discovered to be a criminal hideout." (Click More to Read)

It had been two days since that crazy night and three hours since an official statement was released to public. And given that time gap in announcement, there were more rumours than legitimate news online, but Kaito read them all, even though the details were either repetitive and the same.

And that was good, of course. Because what he feared more was finding something new, like the possibility that one of the criminals mentioned Kid was at the scene or something.

But so far there was none; either these men had completely forgotten about his existence and blamed the birds for their downfall or Shinichi had kept everything perfectly under wraps—

"Kaito!"

"Aoko?" Kaito scooted himself to the side of the campus bench so his childhood friend could sit beside him. "What are you doing here? Don't you have lessons now?"

"It's cancelled and I'm on my way back to the dorm." Aoko tilted her head. "And what are you doing here?"

"I finished my assignments so I'm just chilling outside." (He had been in bed all day yesterday because of his leg and he needed a breather.)

"Oh— Did you change your phone?"

"Yeah." Kaito twirled his new phone around for show. "I accidentally broke my old one." Though luckily, he had everything on cloud, including the photos he took yesterday.

"I see that you're also reading the recent news too; I was actually going to text you about it." Aoko stared at Kaito's phone screen, snorting. "Finally something that isn't about Kaitou Kid."

Kaito grimaced and tilted his screen away. "I have the freedom to read whatever I want."

Aoko stuck out her tongue, but her cheeky expression didn't last when she returned her attention to the news again. "Anyway, who knew the abandoned building we explored just two weeks ago would house such dangerous people! Gosh."

"Well—"

"Luckily we heeded Kudo-kun's advice and left." Aoko rubbed the side of her arms nervously. "Although it would be a great scoop, the risk is too much."

"In case you forgot, it was I who suggested to leave first."

"Fine, fine, Bakaito. Don't be jealous." She gestured her head to his phone. "I'll leave you to your reading and we can text later. I'm going back to finish up my projects first."

Kaito still had a lot of things to say, and one of the things was that he was not jealous. But he arranged the priorities in his head and pulled Aoko's bag, stumbling her back again.

"Wait, I have a question."

"What?"

"You and that Kudo detective exchanged emails, right? Did you tell him any weird info about me?"

Aoko raised an eyebrow. "What is there for me to say?"

"I don't know. Just— Anything. Did you tell him anything?"

"I didn't. In fact, we didn't talk much. He only sent me the photos and I asked for his permission to use his quote."

"Really?" Kaito frowned. "That's it?"

The glint in Aoko's eyes made Kaito a little uncomfortable. "Is there something you want me to tell him for you?"

"No."

"Or you can tell him yourself if you want. I have his email address—"

"Bye Aoko." Kaito waved her off and pretentiously stared his phone, as if it contained the answer to the existence of the universe.

Aoko chuckled. "Bye Kaito." She waved and skipped her way towards the direction of her dorm.

Kaito glanced up, watching Aoko's back disappear behind the school building.

Besides worrying if Kid's presence at the abandoned building would be exposed, Shinichi's early discovery about his identity was also bugging him as well. He had been betting all on the chance that Aoko had mentioned something crucial to Shinichi, but if she didn't, then how on earth did he figure it out?

A chime came from Kaito's phone and he almost didn't recognise it as his ringtone since he just changed it. He looked at the caller ID.

Unknown number? Kaito frowned, alert on the rise.

He picked up the call. "Hello?"

"Is this Kuroba Kaito?"

Kaito blinked, his heart lurched. "...Detective?"

"We found your bike."

"Holy shit." Kaito flung up from his seat, earning curious stares from other students. That was two surprises in a row, the first being receiving a call from Kudo freaking Shinichi. "You serious?"

"Do I sound like I'm kidding?"

"I thought it's a goner," Kaito said. "Or even if it's not, it'll be kept as an evidence to prosecute Kid."

"I've settled the Kid problem. Don't worry."

"Oh." Kaito managed to hide his third surprise well. "Thanks for that."

"When are you free?"

The question got Kaito a little more flustered than he should be. "Why?"

"You need to come to the headquarters to fill in some forms before you can take your bike back."

"Right, of course." Kaito was tempted to slap a hand over his forehead. "I can come over now." He paused. "But are you free? Is your murder magnet not activated today?"

Kaito could perfectly imagine Shinichi's eye roll. "I'm free now."

"Okay. See you later."

Cutting the call, Kaito made his way towards the metro station (and till this day he wasn't sure if he was actually excited to reunite with his bike or at the thought of meeting Kudo Shinichi in a while.)

.

.

Even if all the other officers around them were busy shouting around and finding clues to solve their cases, there was no telling who would be watching, listening or both. So during the entire documentation process, Kaito burrowed his face deep into the papers while Shinichi silently watched across the table.

And it didn't help when their faces looked alike—

That thought gave Kaito a new guess.

So the moment when they were alone and standing at the parking lot outside the headquarters (and also after Kaito had spent three minutes cradling his bike and looking for scratches), Kaito spoke:

"I know the answer now, and this must be it."

Shinichi stuck a hand into his work pants, eyebrows raised. "You're still guessing?"

"Duh."

"Didn't you mention there are some things that are best to remain a mystery?"

It was such a long time ago since they had that conversation during one of his heists, and Kaito briefly wondered how Shinichi remembered his words so well. Kaito cleared his throat. "That doesn't count when the mystery involves my identity and my ability of hiding it."

"Fair point," Shinichi said. "So what's your guess?"

Kaito pointed at Shinichi before tapping a finger on his own cheek. "It's because we have the same face."

Shinichi blinked.

Did I get it right?

Shinichi took a step back and scrutinised Kaito from head to toe. "To be honest, I don't see how we are that similar..."

Kaito wrinkled his nose. "What are you talking about? I don't need to put on a mask to disguise you and fool everyone."

"Yes, but no. This so-called similarity of our faces wasn't what that made me figure out your identity," Shinichi said, before he muttered almost incoherently under his breath, "besides, it's not only you that have the same face as me. That Okita..."

"What?"

Shinichi sighed and run a hand through his hair. "It's not the answer," was his final verdict.

"I officially give up." Kaito stuck his hands into his pockets. "Please. Just tell me already." (He barely refrained himself from admitting how he had been thinking about this the entire time.)

Shinichi bit his lip.

A pause.

An intake of breath.

"It was the way you stood when I saw you and Nakamori that day," Shinichi said. "It screamed to me that you're Kaitou Kid."

Kaito was too dumbfounded to even speak.

"Even the way you stand now." Shinichi gestured a hand over at Kaito, continuing, "You look just like the first time I met you as Conan and the last time I met you as Conan, too. You've been Kaitou Kid for years, Kuroba. You're not just Kaitou Kid; you've become Kaitou Kid — his essence and everything."

Kaito straightened, feeling extremely conscious with all the movements he was making now. "Just.. from this?"

Shinichi nodded. "It was the first thing that ignited my suspicions. The following things that happened only continued to confirm my theory... Especially the lock. Your acting is ridiculous."

Kaito scowled, whatever tension in the air he felt vanished. "Wow, thanks."

"Are you satisfied with my answer?"

"Of course not," Kaito muttered. Raising a hand, he copied one of Kid's signature wave movements. "But I always made sure there's a difference in whatever I do as Kid." An ace of heart between his fingers and gone the next. "Kid is still him. And I'm still... me."

"So Kaito is Kaito after all!"

He recalled Aoko said that to him after that stupid Sun Halo incident a long time ago. Kaito clenched his fist and stuck it back into his pocket.

Could it be that she also...?

"You may not notice, but those differences you created have turned into a part of you now." Suddenly, Shinichi looked tired as his eyes drooped at whatever memories that flashed across his mind. "It took me a long time before I got rid of Conan's manners and routines; I understand what it feels like."

Kaito crossed his arms. "But what if I don't mind it?"

"Given that you're good friends with Nakamori, I don't see why you'll be. Unless you're planning to admit your identity to her anytime soon." Shinichi lowered his voice. "She's honestly smarter than you think."

There was nothing Kaito could say to argue back.

"To stop the change, you have to stop being Kid." Shinichi face turned solemn, almost a replica of the Edogawa Conan that Kaito met on their last encounter:

"If you ever need my help, I'm willing to give it to you, just as much as you did when I asked."

"My offer still stands, you know." Shinichi finally said.

The arms around Kaito's chest tightened, and his thoughts stretched as long as the growing silence. Even after so many years, Kaito never failed to wake up every day and wonder if he could ever bring Snake down, avenge his father or even find Pandora; he still had some trouble putting trust in himself that he didn't see a point to put it in others.

But there was something about the way Shinichi stood before him, looking so determined as if he was born to be, and it made Kaito think, crazily, that if he really had to choose one person to put his trust in, that person would be...

"Regardless, I've said what I wanted to say." The determination in Shinichi's eyes faltered and he looked... deflated? Kaito couldn't tell, or understand, why the detective would be feeling that too—

"How is your injury?" Shinichi said instead, already changing the subject.

In return, Kaito observed the fading bruise on Shinichi's cheek; he supposed he didn’t have to ask back the question.

"This is definitely concern I’m hearing, right detective?" Kaito smirked, though Shinichi remained unamused. He wiggled his leg for show. "As you can see, I'm better now."

"Good."

Kaito leaned against his bike, hoping for both physical and mental support. Every second that passed was making it harder for Kaito to return back to that moment...

He bit his lip.

A pause.

An intake of breath.

"Thanks, detective."

"...For what?"

"For that offer of yours again." Kaito nodded. "I'll think about it."

Shinichi blinked, surprised.

But just when Kaito thought it was the end, Shinichi smiled, and it was completely unexpected that Kaito almost thought he imagined it.

"You know where to find me."

Kaito needed a while to regain his composure. "…But how will I know if you're free for me to find, murder-magnet?"

"Given your lovely intel, you should know better."

This time, Kaito allowed Shinichi to have the last word in, and he only grinned back in return.

.

.

Even though Aoko knew Kaito since childhood, it was still hard for her to understand him completely at times, especially given his erratic behaviours and attitude. But at least out of everything, Aoko did know one thing consistent about him, and it would be his love for his dad, magic, and doves...

And a specific bench on their campus too?

As usual after Aoko was released from her afternoon class, she spotted Kaito sitting alone on that same campus bench again, helmet by his side and phone in his hand. It wasn't as if he didn't have a dorm to rest in or friends to find, but then again, this was just another behaviour of his that Aoko didn't understand.

(But maybe it was partially her fault, because she never found the need or courage to ask Kaito for answers too.)

Aoko slowed her pace, trying to tiptoe her way towards the bench and give Kaito a scare. But when a white figure swooped down from the sky and landed on his lap, she was the one that got a shock instead.

A dove!

"Kaito!"

Kaito glanced up, his eyes widened and mouth parting about to speak.

"Wait!" Aoko raised a hand, stopping him before pointing at his dove. "Let me guess. Is it Pocky?"

Kaito grinned. "Nope."

"Mochi?"

Mochi cooed.

"Impressive. Not bad for your second try."

Aoko showed a peace sign and sat next to Kaito after he shifted in his position. "What is Mochi doing here?"

Kaito indirectly answered her as he pulled a string and unrolled the note that was tied to Mochi's foot.

Aoko leaned over, trying to see what was written on the note. But besides catching a glimpse of the neat handwriting, she couldn't derive anything else as Kaito turned half of his back towards her and covered the note in his hand.

"Please respect my privacy, Ahouko."

"But I want to know what that is!"

"No."

"Why?"

"Not going to tell you."

Aoko snickered. "Is it a love letter?" 

Kaito rolled his eyes. "Whatever you want to think." He stood up, taking his helmet and releasing Mochi back into the sky. "Anyway I have to go. Say hi to your dad for me when you visit him over the weekends."

Given the recent announcement of Kid's upcoming heist, Aoko wasn't sure about the plan anymore when she knew her dad wouldn't be at home much, but she didn't bother telling Kaito either. "Where are you going?" she asked instead, watching him from her seat.

"Finding the sender of the love letter."

Aoko crossed her arms with a huff. "Really?"

"Really."

"Fine, if that's the case. Please help me to tell that person I said hi too."

Kaito grinned. "Sure."

With that, he sped off. /end

[always5hineee]

Profit Margin- Chapter 20: Flashing Lights

Chapter warnings: mild language, intense themes, heavy violence

Word count: 1387

-----

       Once they had gotten a hold of Kun, they frantically tried to explain the situation. He wasn't really one for such rushed interaction as a businessman, but he too understood the urgency. He notified them that Ten had already left, suspicious of Hendery and his actions. With Hendery and Y/N as the targets and Lucas out of commission, they just needed to go find Xiaojun.

       They all got into the elevator, pressing the button for the medical bay. They waited, wondering if the stairs would have been more efficient. Still, it was too late now. Stepping out of the tiny room, they entered into the medical bay. Aside from the light coming out from under the office door, the entire room was dark.

       "We should keep it down," Kun muttered under his breath. "I assume Lucas is in REM or something similar if Xiaojun took the time to turn off the lights. We should get him and get moving as quickly as possible." The other two agreed, letting him lead the way to the back. Slowly he cracked the door slightly, whispering, "Xiaojun?" He received no response.

       "Did he go back to his bedroom?" WinWin mumbled.

       "There's no way, he hasn't left Lucas's side for a second if he could help it." Kun opened the door a bit more, feeling as if it was blocked by something. Giving it a hard shove, he managed to push through so that there was enough room to enter. All three boys filed in, looking at the beds. Well, he wasn't sleeping.

       "Where could he be?" The leader wondered aloud. "This doesn't make sense." YangYang moved to check the closet to the left of the door- that is, until he found that he didn't have to. Lying on the ground, the object that had been blocking the door, had been Xiaojun.

       His eyes were half closed, clearly disoriented from blunt trauma. All four of his limbs were bent the opposite direction from which they were supposed to turn, and there was blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. As the other members heard his gasp, they saw the same sight.

       "Oh my God!" WinWin yelled, kneeling down by his side and quickly laying his head to the man's chest. After a moment, he shouted, "He's still breathing!" Even Kun seemed shaken up as both of the boys looked to him, clearly wondering what to do.

       "Y-you should get him into one of the medical beds, get him an IV. Quickly. They complied, picking him up, thankful that he wasn't awake lest they have to hear his pain.

       "Could you flip the light on?" WinWin asked, voice clearly distraught.

       "Yeah..." They moved to where they knew the bed next to Lucas to be, setting the broken man down with a heavy breath. Just as Kun turned the light on, though, they had wished he hadn't. Whoever had done this to Xiaojun had gotten to Lucas too.

       Each of Lucas's arms and legs had a long metal pole through it, clearly having been shoved through with brute force. There was blood all over the floor, and it had been tracking across the room on their shoes without them even knowing it. Upon closer inspection, Kun realized that they were bone stints- the objects that would have been used to fix Xiaojun's broken limbs. Not only that, but there was a larger one driven through the center of the left side of his chest.

       The scene was a disaster. Even worse, they were now almost certain that it was Hendery who was responsible. They had trusted him too quickly, hadn't bothered to find out what was angering. Worse, they had sent their newest, most fragile member to her death with him. Kun was the most devastated. As leader, this was his responsibility, his fault. He was staring at Lucas, eyes still closed peacefully as he had been for days on end. His blood still pooling on the floor. This had happened maybe fifteen minutes ago. That's all it would have taken- for him to notice fifteen minutes earlier.

       He was used to blood. They were all used to blood. He had killed plenty of people, seen women kidnapped, mutilated, tortured, broken, forced into submission- he had never seen his men spill each others' blood before, though. It was unthinkable in this business, for people so close to turn on each other. And yet it happened all the time. How had he not seen it coming? He was naive to assume that Y/N's presence would leave the group's dynamic untouched. But to kill people from their own group?

       "Kun." WinWin jarred him out of his thoughts as he turned and tried to compose himself.

       "Yes?"

       "We just received a notification. Our accounts have been frozen, and-" He cleared his throat. "Someone's breached security. There's someone in the building with us."

       Meanwhile, Hendery was now exactly where he intended to be. Sitting in the all-too-familiar black sedan with a completely unsuspecting Y/N. He tried his best to keep from completely bursting out into laughter, thinking of all the fun little toys he had hidden in the center console. What would he do it with? He had plenty of choices. Of course, some were more efficient than others, but he had nothing to worry about. They had no reason to go talk to Xiaojun, and certainly no point in checking up on Lucas while the medic was attending to him. They wouldn't find out about those little incidents until Y/N was already strung up on the top of the building.

       Pulling off onto a dirt road in a surrounding wooded area, Hendery brought the car to a stop. Turning off the ignition but leaving the headlights on, he stepped out, gesturing for her to do the same. He had slipped a single serrated machete into his waistband, eager to pull it out. Still, he was patient.

       "What are we doing here?" She asked, looking around with confusion. "I thought we were catching the killer?"

       "Oh, there's no need to catch him, sweetheart, he's here."

       "Here? Is that why we stopped?" He gave her a moment to realize, noting the exact moment that it occurred to her. Her whole form shrank down as the fear began to take hold. "W-wait, you mean-"

       "You so slow, beautiful. You're pretty body all cut up will make up for it, though, hm?"

       "Hendery, y-you don't want to do this-" He pulled the knife out of his pants, tilting his head.

       "Why shouldn't I? You show up here, you take my attention, you put my reputation at stake, you challenge my decisions?" Laughing, he continued, "You're quite the bitch, I will say, but you're too much effort. If you had been just a bit easier, I would have had my fun, gotten bored, and let you off scot free. But no, you have to be stubborn, don't you Y/N." She was backed up against the vehicle now. If she turned to run, he would definitely catch her- as much as she hated to admit it, he was undoubtedly more agile.

       "Which is why I killed Lucas," He whispered, leaning in as his arms trapped her against the metal from either side. "It's why I killed Xiaojun," he smiled as her face fell with every word. "And it's why I'm going to kill you." She shut her eyes as she was blinded by a white light. She didn't feel any pain. Was this death? It didn't hurt as much as she expected. If it was indeed death, though, why did she still feel Hendery's frame above her?

       "Wong Kunhang, you are under arrest under allegations of harassment, assault, battery, kidnapping, rape, murder, and human trafficking. You're colleagues have already been taken into custody, including the runaway Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul. We implore that you do not attempt to resist arrest. Your rights will be read to you." Opening her eyes, she saw that the blinding white light was not death, or heaven. It was a police headlight.

       There had to have been at least four cruisers surrounding them, barely leaving an inch for escape. Hendery's face was coated in a calm, intensely scary rage as he begrudgingly stepped back, hands in the air. She was in shock as some faceless uniform grabbed her, pulling her away and saying,

       "Don't worry, you're safe now."

[This is the end of the story. There will be a sequel in the future. I’ll link it once it’s been started, or look for the tab on my page. Thanks for reading!]

Go to the Sequel!

[the-headbop-wraith]

3_42 Carbon Dating

When the shutters went up, work began none stop until closing.  For a full twelve hours customers came and went, leaving overworked and troublesome vehicles, whilst others departed with their serviced transportation fresh from the garage.  The bell in the lobby chimed, announcing the imminent arrival of their next client from the open lot outside.  

A large window was set in one wall, and allowed those within the office to see a portion of the garage itself as the crewmen toiled.  The backdoor that led out of the office and into the work zone of the shop always remained open, vivid reverberations from within the garage seeped through on the low hanging perfume of the mechanics lair.  Always the office smelled of fresh oil and plastic, crisp smoke curled from embers, mingled with the ozone dripping from scalded hydrogen of the pressurized pipes.  Pumps wheezed, wrenches cranked, drills squealed with vivid passion; a symphony of metal, an unchallenged configuration that flowed throughout the blazing intensity of the shop lamps from dawn till dusk.  

“Would someone get that hamster OUT OF HERE!” Somewhere a tool clattered on the floor, the unmistakable rhythm of feet hitting cement faded in the back room.

Lance heaved a sigh and sank down a little more in his shoes.  “Look,” he grumbled, into the phone at his ear.  “I’m sayin it.  Not payin’. Not one cent.  I’m not gunna argue this over like a broken record, get your facts straight on that customer report.  Bottom line, you sent us the wrong parts.”  He stepped a little past the corner of the doorway and checked the customers lined up at the counter.  “Uh-huh.  No. No, don’t go there.  I promise, I can break you.  Let‘s be civil about this.”  Behind him, one of the crewmen raced by, bent far forward with his arms outstretched.  Whatever he was chasing, it wasn’t close to getting caught.

The door parted by a fraction and two more customers entered behind a woman and child.  “You can always tell what’s going on inside, by the way the different angles the cars are parked outside.”  Mystery shuffled through the thin gap in the door, while casting dubious glances up at Arthur.  “Uncle Lance! Yellow!” Arthur waved his arm, but turned away from the line of customers as he began another fit of hacking. “Is this a bad time?”  Mystery barked twice, and looked to the lady that was staring at him.  Them. The dog frowned behind his smart spectacles.

“I know you can’t close the transaction, and to be honest that ain’t my problem, is it?”  Lance covered the mouth piece of the phone and stepped into the lobby.  “I was wonderin’ when you’d be getting back ’round.  Your trip go well?”  The worker that had been racing around in the back now moved into the window, he began waving his arms high over his head and making wide sweeping gestures toward Arthur.

“About that,” Arthur hiccupped, eyes fixed on the dancing figure.  He moved by the customer line and met Lance at the gap in the counter.  “We made such good time—” He was cut off when Lance shoved the phone into his hand.

“Here.  Talk to this guy, you’re good with the phone stuff.”  That said, Lance turned and motioned the clerk at the counter assisting their next client.  “When you’re done here, can you go check inventory for those new fangel fuel lines?”

Arthur put the phone to his ear.  “Er, hello?  Parts?” The worker that had been motioning to Arthur earlier, now came over with a clipboard and a thin page tethered to the front.  The crewmate pulled the first page up as Arthur read the transcript over, the guy pointed to the distinctly varied numbers in orders and deliveries.  Arthur pinned the phone under his chin and motioned to the guy with his fingers.  The crewman gestured back and smirked.

Oh dear, they’re doing this again?  Mystery rolled his eyes and sat.

“I’m good fixing phones, not talking people,” Arthur mouthed.  The crewmate pantomimed talking with his hand.  

“I’ll give you a bonus if you can save us a buck,” Lance grumbled.  Once the clerk had finished with the customer, they darted back into the garage through the doorway.  Lance moved over to a stepstool built against the counter, and made a rather graceful leap – for someone of his stature – onto the sturdy stoop.  He pulled the keyboard over for the computer and began typing.  “I’m sorry about the wait, Miss.  Name?”

“Yes?  Hello?” Arthur chirped.  “You‘re the manager?  Good-good.”  He adjusted the phone at his ear, and leaned over the counter as he read over the provided page on the clipboard.  “I’m looking at the order form right here.  Yes.  You don’t need to be snooty.  The invoice says we ordered five cases of the model G, but we only use the model T. The serial number’s off.”  

The crewmate made a series of gestures to Arthur, to which Arthur gave a sideways shrug.  The crewmate plopped his hand back to his side when Mystery darted by, toward the back door the clerk left by.  

“I’m just sayin,” Arthur went on.  He paused and rubbed his palm to his brow.  “Yes, totally.  We can keep the parts, and we can sell them to another shop, and loose some money – that’d be about equivalent to the money we’re gonna lose in the shipping expenses.  Hmm? Is that so?”  Arthur pinned the phone to his ear with his shoulder, his hand reached up over his brow and began straightening up his darker hair tufts. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. Now listen, you’re about to lose a loyal, paying customer over a serial number typo, that’s in your invoice copy. I’m sure Ratchet N’ Clanks would— Whas’that?  You will?” Arthur began nodding.  “That is super-duper, you are such a wizard with bizz to bizz relations.  Uh-huh, yeah, you have a good day too.”  

Arthur groaned under his breath.  He handed the phone back to the mechanic and smacked his forehead to the countertop.  The crewmate gave Arthur’s back a light pat before returning to the garage.  It took a little too long for Arthur to get his bearings together, he didn’t feel inclined to move too fast.

Lance finished assisting a figure in a maroon hoody. “I suppose you’ll want that bonus?”  He snatched a piece of paper that slid out of the printer and handed it to the figure. “If you’ll step outside, someone will get you set up.”  Lance pulled a small handheld communicator from his belt and spoke a brief message into it.

“Put it on my tab,” Arthur mumbled.  “I need to commission some work on the van.” Without meaning to, Arthur dragged out the word ‘some’.

Lance nodded, his hand already directing the mouse on the screen to his nephew’s active account.  The lobby was currently empty, the door slipped shut on their most recent customer.  “The usual oil change?  Check up?”

“Um,” Arthur grimaced. He shuffled a little closer to the computer Lance worked on and leaned on his bent arm.  “I managed to get that done already.  Er, what I was thinking….”

“Yes?”  Lance narrowed his eyes minutely.

Arthur kneaded the edge of his vest with his fingers and took a breath.  “Some inner restoration, new batteries, tires changed, and I need to schedule to get the side repainted.”  The sentence was spoken in a hasty blur.  When he finished, Arthur pressed his lips together tightly and leaned far-far back from the counter.

A slow blink was Lance’s response.  “What?”

“I thought you were kidding!” Lance grated.  “I thought!… you were…”  Lance’s voice ceased and he shut his eyes.  He took a deep breath and reevaluated the notary details of the van presented to him.  Was this really the same vehicle?  It was unfathomable that Arthur, of all people, would let - THE Van - come to be in this condition.  “You know what?  Never mind.”

“Hey Uncle Lance,” Vivi hailed from the back.  The van was parked beside the furthest shutter of the garage, currently empty of customer automobiles, the passenger side and back doors left wide open.  “I’d go over the details, but it looks like we’ll be sticking around for a while. So, no rush on work.”  Vivi held up her hands and motioned Lance to keep it calm.  Though no outer countenance gave away Lance’s inner turmoil, his face was beat red and his fists were clutched tightly at the sides of his belt.  “And you can do whatever you need inside to get it ship shape, we’re gonna unpack everything, and I mean everything.”  Vivi tucked her hands behind her back.

Lance hadn’t looked Vivi’s way, he was still staring at the once pristine yellow clad box of the Mystery Skull’s transport.  “Do I want to know?” he grumbled, at last. “No!  I don’t.  But this’ll keep me up all night… No!  I’ll regret’t if I ask.”  Vivi stared as Lance pulled a hand up and tugged at his beard, he turned away continuing with his gruff mutterings.  “I’m sure there is a safe, uneventful, tale attached to this happenin’?  Isn’t there?”  Vivi’s frown deepened, lips screwed tight.  “Your usually both such careful drivers though.”  He sighed.  

“Uncle Lance?”  Vivi ventured.  “It was just an accident with the equipment.  You know how the laptop always overheats?”  Vivi stepped off the bumper and leaned on the inner side of one door, hands crossed behind her back.  She moved a little more out of the way as Lance trudged forward.

“An accident.  Right,” Lance mumbled.  He heaved himself up onto the floorboard and stood.  “This is the ceiling.”  He stabbed at the flanking headliner with a finger, and looked back at Vivi. “The.  Ceiling.  Its ruined.”

Arthur leaned around the door opposite of Vivi, the corner of his mouth tugged back in a grim smirk.  “It was an interesting experience.”

“Are these scorch marks on the seats!”

Vivi turned to Arthur wide eyed, and brought a hand to her mouth.  “We… I don’t know if you’d understand.”  To Arthur she mouthed, ‘When did that?’

Arthur sniffed and shrugged.  He sipped at the cup of coffee he carried.  In the garage slot they parked near, Mystery’s barks rang out as he dashed after the squeaking wheels of a certain orange fluff.  The little ball zipped around basement boarders and across the yellow/black striped caution tape adhered to the floor, while Mystery kept in hot pursuit.  

“Hey,” Arthur called.  “Are you forgetting who your favorite person is?”

The orange fluff zigzagged out of Mystery’s path. Mystery kept running, even as Galahad made a beeline out of the garage.  Arthur set his cup on the floor and held his hand down for the plump little rodent plush.

“Aw, look’t you,” Arthur cooed.  “I swear you get bigger everyday.  What’re you eating?  Uncle Lance?  What’re feeding Galy?”  Arthur stood and ran his thumb over Galahad’s hair tufts.  He ignored Vivi’s sly grin.

“Oh, y’know,” Lance grumbled, as he pulled some of the ruined ceiling away.  “Crickets, pizza, fish crackers, eggs an’ bacon.  The usual.”

Arthur and Vivi exchanged horrorstruck faces. “That’s not what I told you to do!” Arthur yelped.

The van creaked under Lance’s weight as he tromped out, and hopped onto the pavement.  “Doesn’t seem to be hurtin’ the little fella.”  Lance gave Galahad a pat on his head, then straightened out his belt and walked off.  “We’ll need to get some pictures.  For the website… What d’you feed him, anyway?”

“What?  I feed him hamster pellets, like a normal, responsible pet owner!”  Arthur bent his thumb under Galahad’s chin and scratched. Galahad didn’t care, he was a hamster getting scratchies.

Lance scoffed.  “Yuk.  No wonder he wouldn’t eat.  I fixed that for you.”

Arthur groaned and turned to Vivi.  “A little help?”

Vivi sniggered.  “I’m the last person you should ask.  Mystery won’t even look at dog food.”

Arthur swung his stump in the hound’s direction. Mystery walked by, nose upturned. He wasn’t getting involved.  “He’s different!”  Arthur winced back when Vivi began fixing his vest collar.  He glanced at the flashlight Vivi carried, as she moved it behind her back.

“How do you know Galahad isn’t?” Vivi murmured. “We’ll start getting everything together.  You have the keys?”

Arthur nodded, only partially getting what Vivi had said.  He spun about and looked through the garage, the trucks and cars with hoods raised, the cough of a torch, the sparkle of embers and the buzz of electricity.  His element.  “It’ll be good goin’ back to what I know,” he spoke, softly.  “People think our work is easy?”  He chuckled.  “This is what I know.”  He looked down on his hand.  Galahad was curling down into a relaxed puff, little by little the hamster’s eyes slipped shut.

“Really, Art?” Vivi posed.  “Is that all?”  She frowned at the flashlight when she tried the switch, but it wouldn’t turn on.

“Well, that’s hardly it,”  Arthur admitted.  “A change of pace, I’m looking forward to it.  Huh Galy, you missed me?  Tell her.” Galahad was fast asleep.

Off a ways inside the repair shop, Lance hoots back, “Did you remember to plug your arm in?”

Arthur groans, and realizes he’s unable to face palm effectively.  “It’s not that kind of prosthetic!”

Some of the equipment needed retooling and inspection, following up the assortment and extended use they had taken throughout the course of the trip. They didn’t have the boxes or time at the hour to get the work done today, but Arthur did sift out some of the gear that got the heaviest wear, and took that on up along with a few personal bags. By a small marvel, Vivi managed to convince Arthur to cart up these items in smaller units, rather than the ‘superman’ trips Arthur was initially dedicated to.

One trip down, Lance managed to catch Arthur as he was bouncing down the steps from the top level.  Lance stood by the doorway that opened into the main work room, as Arthur was slinking by, and said, “If you need a few off, to get your bearings. I’ll understand.”  Lance raised his eyebrows when Arthur paused.  “We’re busy, but what’s new?”

“No, no,” Arthur chocked out.  “Vi and,” Arthur caught himself, and shook his train of thought off into a series of coughs.  “Mystery and Viv-vi.  They’ll unpack and stuff at her place, everything‘s cool.  Trust me, I kinda, um…need some distraction.”  Arthur reached a hand behind his neck and rubbed at the edge of his shirt collar.

Lance tugged his gloves a little tighter over his hands. It was no secret between uncle and nephew that Lance was deliberately avoiding the One question.  “Rough case?”

Arthur moved his hand up to a rub at his hairline, and nodded.  “Well, it was mostly— I mean, we did some other stuff along the way.”  Galahad was suddenly on his shoulder.  How he got there, Arthur was clueless to that rational. He scooped the Hamster off his shoulder and debated on whether Galahad could still fit in his pocket.  “Vivi drove most the way back, but she’s not expected back at the Tome Tomb for another two days.”

Lance nodded, without dropping his eyes from Arthur’s face.  “Don’t overwork yourself, lad.  If you need, ask one of the crew to take over.  But whatever you do,” and here, Lance’s voice got low.  “Don’t make me drag you away from your work. Understood?”

Arthur made a little sound as he nodded.  He clutched Galahad to his chest as Lance stepped forward and gave him a firm pat on his good shoulder.

“Now go do your thing.”  With that, Lance spun on heel and returned to the garage.  Arthur stood there for a moment, struggling to take that all in.

__

A question began to bubble within Vivi as she navigated the van, carefully, among the traffic of their hometown.  She wasn’t wondering about the final verdict of their case, didn’t mull over the reasoning of the College’s quick decision; she didn’t even fret over the prospect of Lewis assisting in unpacking what gear remained in the van, though she did ponder a multitude of small, unrelated, aspects.

“You’ve been to my apartment?  A couple times?”

Lewis, in the passenger seat, had looked from the window and stared at Vivi for a full minute.  It didn’t bode well with her.  “I think you… moved,” Lewis petered.  He peered up through the windshield at the complex of building clusters, all set about the acreage of land that was undoubtedly property to the same host.  “I don’t think, you never lived here.  From what I remember.”  Lewis didn’t want to say anymore.  “It’s nice though.”

“Thank you,” Vivi mumbled.  She guided the van through the entrance gate and rolled along the open asphalt parking lot.  There are a lot of cars parked in their respective spaces at the building entrance doors, open yard plots and brush filled up the areas that weren’t road. “I… y’know, I think I moved in the first place.”  She had a hard time putting it into words.  The implications, the sorrow budding in her soul; the yearning and sensation of forgetfulness – she forgot something.  The radio was sometimes left on, she always double checked the oven before she went out anywhere, nothing in her apartment had ever been misplaced, far as she knew – she had a bad habit of leaving small curious in inappropriate places, but never lost anything important.  It was this nagging in the back of her head, but now she knew the source of it. “—Felt like I had to get some space,” she settled on saying.  “This feels kind of open, and Mystery could get out and run like a normal dog.”

A subdued ‘oof’ bounced from the vans back.

The van was parked two spaces down from the entrance doors of the apartment cluster.  A cool breeze ran between the neighboring building clusters, tumbling down through the bare branches of the trees and ruffling Vivi’s cushy scarf.  The air around her was soaked in yellow with tinges of amber, or it could’ve just been the van she was standing beside.  It took a bit more time than estimated to let Arthur get himself unpacked, and the sun was already winding its way downward with every tick of the minute.  Soon it would be dark, but it would be dark in her own home.

Vivi shuddered and fixed up her scarf around her neck.  She rounded the side of the van and popped open the back doors.  Mystery was within, moving around the smaller bags that he could manage and some of the leftover groceries.

“Ugh, we should have left the ice chest with Arthur,” Vivi chided, aloud.  Mystery pinned his paws to the top of the cooler and shoved the sloshing box out of the way. “It’s his anyway.”  She looked up when the anticipated reassurance failed to drift her way.  The purplish pompadour was still hovering by the headrest, the door remained shut. “You okay, Lewlew?”

Lewis raised his shaded eyes over the bench seat. “You sure no one’s gonna care? Seeing me around?” Lewis’ voice took on a soft warble, the echoing tone that had drenched his shaded self.  “They might start asking around, getting nosy.” He had the door opened already and slid out, nearly slipped through the door itself.

“You’re kind of hard to miss,” Vivi muttered, as Lewis joined her.  She reached out and patted Lewis on his vest’s front. “Really, nobodies’ gonna ask about you. Most the tenants are so clueless about what’s going on around them – I actually thought there was an unnatural reason for that.  But! Trust me, it’ll be fine.”  She returned to the vans interior and began heaping up what bags she could manage; she didn’t want Lewis to catch the little hint of a scowl she felt tugging at her lips.  “Daylights awasting, better get a move on!”  On second thought, she shoved the accumulated bags up into Lewis arms.  “Got that?  Never mind, dumb question.”

Mystery lead the way.  He carried quite a bit for a dog, some of the backpacks and a sleeping bag were tied together and looped over his backside, an extra bag of groceries was clenched in his jaws.  He had some difficulty elevating himself in such a way, that didn’t force the bags to topple off his shoulders and onto the floor.  It took some coordination to get his paw up high enough to hit the elevators call button.

“I’m on the third floor,” Vivi mentioned.  The buzzer chimed as the doors opened to the lift. As the three boarded, Vivi hits the number panel with her elbow and backs up to make room for Lewis in the tiny box.  The doors grated shut and following a short intermission, a faint chime signaled the lifts begrudging ascent.

As the numbers morphed on the digital panel at the upper corner, Vivi bit at her lip in the stifling silence.  “But we… the group,” she began.  The elevator dinged, the number read two.  “I don’t know why I moved in the first place.”

Lewis glanced her way.  “Did Arthur help you?”

Vivi shook her head.  Not all the time Arthur spent in the hospital was for recovering from his amputation.  “Where would you stay?  Normally?” she inquired.  The lift chimed as the doors part, and Mystery led the way out.  Vivi didn’t move.  “You don’t have any place to hang out, is what I’m trying to say.  But I don’t remember if you were once crashing at my place, if that’s how we did it, and it felt really awkward to ask.”  She tilted her head sideways, a slight shrug. “You need someplace to… wait, how should I put this?  A place… where you’re known about, and don’t have to hide all the time?”

Lewis kicked his foot into the sliding door when it began to close.  He mulled over what Vivi was saying, though his thoughts had gone to another place. “Whoa, hold the phone!” he crowed. “Is that all that’s bothering you?”

Vivi squinted her eyes behind her glasses and nodded.  “Sort of. Last time, we didn’t really do anything about it?  You hung around the van, and even if it didn’t need to hit the shop, that wasn’t right.”

Lewis kicked the door again.  The elevator didn’t like him.  “That was fine?  Best for me,” he admitted.  “The van, it was a good place to start.  I told you this.”  Vivi marched by and Lewis followed, the elevator doors snapped at his rear. Lewis kicked a foot out backwards, the sound of his ‘heel’ hitting the door reverberated throughout the narrow corridor like a dish crashing on a tile floor.

Vivi whirled back.  “You WANT me to get evicted?”

“It started it!” Lewis defended.  He adjusted the bags in his arms and followed.  The hall wasn’t very long, and at the furthest door Mystery stood unable to sit or anything.  “De todos modos, como usted recordará?  I wasn’t really presentable during that time.”

Vivi scoffed a little.  “You hardly are now, but we manage.”  She swayed over to Lewis and nudged his side with her elbow.  “Mystery?  Which bag had the keys?”

When the door of the apartment opened a crack, Mystery zipped inside and hurried to a couch situated near the kitchens bar and doorway.  It was in the open living area, the sparse furniture there… felt empty.  A few petite lamps camped at the corners of the room, and the end tables of the couch sported Vivi’s customary candles.  There were pictures on the wall.

Mystery sprang onto the couch cushions and shrugged off the multitude of bags, then plopped down onto the carpeted floor and rolled on his back.  His fur was a mess!

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Vivi chided.  She dumped her keys into a shallow basin on the kitchen counter, and added her collection of bags to those that Mystery had dumped. “I swear sometimes.”  She sighed, and looked through some of the grocery bags. “If you want to,” she spoke, as she looked to Lewis shutting the door.  “Wait, no, go back.  Lemme try again.”  Lewis stood and stared at her, baffled.  “You should stay here.  Would you?”

Lewis nodded.  He placed the bags he had – equipment, sacks, a pillow – onto the largest countertop inside the kitchen doorway.  The layout of the apartment was nice; it was sizable for the estimated square footage he reasoned the individual cells were spared on each floor. “If you don’t mind a… haunted apartment, I guess.”  He couldn’t resist saying it, and the clear delight that bloomed on Vivi’s face made it all worth it.

“Oh my gods, that’s right!” she cheered.  Vivi nearly bit into her knuckles when she clutched her fists against her chin.  “But wait, what if stuff starts to act up with you hanging around?  Should I be worried about that?”  And a little under her breath, “Guess I could do some freelance documentation.”

Lewis grinned, and took his sunglasses off. “Take it easy, my blue.  I’ll try and keep my influence to a minimum, if that eases your tension.”

“What tension?  This is gonna be cool!”  Vivi picked up two of her bags from the couch, and motioned over her shoulder. “Go ahead and make yourself comfy. I just gotta check the water closet right quick.  Unless, you wanna start puttin’ things away?  On second thought, I shouldn’t be asking that.  Just relax for now.  Settle in.”

Lewis moved over to the couch.  “Unless you really don’t want me to, I can start organizing the gear.  But it’s no problem.”  He looked through the grocery bags; no doubt the kitchen is where he should start. Mystery poked his head up and began nosing at the bag closest to him.

“I’ll leave it up to you, then,” Viv replied, as she walked into a connecting hall.  “Be out in a jiff.”

“Tome su tiempo,” Lewis responded.  Most of Vivi’s cabinets were tucked tight with instant meals and Ramen packets.  Lewis was in the process of putting away some of the chip bags he had picked up, when he picked up on the door click.  This was as good time as any.  “Mystery? Hey.”

Mystery had opened a package of pastry bear claws on an end table, and was lapping up the gooey icing stuck all over the wrapping. He glanced up when Lewis came over with a walkie-talkie from one of the bags.  What?  You can’t eat it.  The dog turned his snout down to examine the communicator, a piece of twine wrapped around the speak toggle.  Do you remember what happened last time we did that?  Mystery crossed one paw over the other and gave Lewis a reproaching stare.

“Just let me know if she gets out, before I get back. Don’t roll your eyes at me,” Lewis hissed.  “I have to… get something.”  Mystery took a deep breath and sighed.  “Do this for me, and I’ll cook you up a whole chicken.”  At that, Mystery’s eyes popped open.  “Rotisserie style, with bacon, butter, slow cooked.  You’re not willing to forfeit a chicken, are you?”

Mystery tapped his claws on the table’s surface. Lewis set the communicator down and left with another walkie-talkie in hand.

The shower was going when Lewis returned.  Pipes whistled within the walls, muffled by the depth of plaster and wood, the resonance’s depth lurched as Lewis seeped through the door.  Mystery still wrestled with his gooey desert, and was working to get his paws clean in the kitchen sink.  The dog glimpsed towards the kitchens entrance, upon hearing the apartment door shut delicately.  At current, Mystery was scrambling to heft his body up by his elbows the last few inches, in order to shut the sinks faucet off.

“Okay, so,” Lewis began, as he edged around the corner. He watched Mystery sit and begin drying his paws on the dishrag tucked around the handle of the fridge door. “Will you help me hide this?  She doesn’t know about it, right?  I guess I could’ve left it with Arthur, is he the one that hid this stuff?”

Mystery scrubbed his fur until most of the moisture was gone (it was such a chore), he barely gave Lewis his focus until he realized what it was Lewis had brought up.  Why do you have that!  The fur on Mystery’s shoulders stood on end, his glasses nearly fell from his snout.

“I’m not risking someone poking around and finding it,” Lewis hissed, face dimming and skull winking through momentarily.  “And you don’t have any better ideas.”

True.  Mystery released the rag and lowered one paw to the linoleum floor, the other he curled under his chin in his ponder.  His sharp ears twitched as he listened to the shower run, there were numerous areas in the apartment that Vivi flat out shut up and never revisited; any one might do, but it wouldn’t do to be rash about this.

Mystery made a decision.  He padded to the entrance of the kitchen, his steps slowing as he approached Lewis.  The hound turned his snout up and followed Lewis line of sight as he passed.  Lewis broke his gaze and took a large step out of the dog’s general perimeter.  Mystery gave his coat a hard shake, his dog tag rattled at his collar, but he kept walking. Lewis followed.

Parallel to the bathroom in the narrow hall was a door, and as Lewis suspected it opened up into a closet.  Lewis held the dust brushed container in one arm, as he held the door open with the other.  He listened to the shower running at his back and gauged how much time he ‘might’ have to work with.  If he knew Vivi like he thought, she didn’t savor a shower unless it wasn’t optional. Unless, celebratory returning home shower?  Well, Lewis didn’t need to get caught hanging around outside the door like this…. Ahem.

“She won’t look in here?” Lewis pressed.

For emphasis, Mystery sneezed.  The shelves within were filled with old books and an Encyclopedia collection of tattered used notebooks – the notebooks retirement home and graveyard.  Other shelves were stuffed with a few extra blankets, most in shades of blues and reds. The hound tilted his head far back on his shoulders and directed his snout to the topmost corner.  He used the lowest shelf before him to balance, and stood up on his back legs.  Mystery ambled sideways, nose and ears aimed at that shelf, he yapped, and clicked his jaws.

“I’m trustin’ you, then,” Lewis answered. Mystery shrugged his shoulders and dropped down to his four legs.  He sauntered off to the living area, leaving Lewis to his personal business.

The highest shelf wasn’t too high for Lewis’ stature, but he did raise himself an extra foot to allow for some careful organization. He shuffled around some overburdened boxes filled with knickknacks and curios, some he recognized from a far ago time, from another adventure.  Lewis concealed the box in the out of the way space, and packed in the other cartons that had been misplaced by its introduction.  A blanket, a wall of notebooks, and more boxes – but Vivi was sharp when it came to ‘organization.’  Lewis kept going, and began reorganizing some of the souvenir containers.  Actually, he recognized a lot of these things, but there were artifacts Lewis couldn’t bring himself to hardly look at.  He couldn’t decide if it was for some vague reason he disassociated with, or if it was the item itself.  Most of them were not typical charms, they were authentic but Lewis had never considered what that would mean until now.  It couldn’t be good for Vivi to be hoarding all this stuff.

Lewis must’ve been caught up in the fleeting touch with nostalgia for some of time. ��He lost himself flipping through old journals, while looking at a large black cylinder of some sort of rock that might’ve been granite, but probably wasn’t.  The door beside him swung open, and Vivi very nearly stepped and into him.  

Freshly clothed, a towel tied around her head, Vivi brought her raised hands down to her face when she saw Lewis, but only for a splint second.  A collection of papers scattered through a flash of embers, the black stone hit the carpet with a Thump!  Vivi winced and shielded her eyes, more from the light than the wash of heat.

“Oh gosh, Lewis!” she gasped.  Vivi looked around, squinting.  The so named ghost was absent.  “Lew.  How’s it possible for a big guy like you, to get startled by someone like me?”  She tried to stifle a giggle as she knelt and gathered up the torn pages.  “Are you here, or did you vanish to Timbuctoo?”  There was no answer, and Vivi worried.  She postponed book retrieval and sat on her knees, staring about the thin slit of the hall.  It felt smaller now, confined.  “Lew?”

“I’m here,” the disembodied voice rang out, softly. From the hall, there was little of the living area itself that was visible, but that’s where the voice resonated from.  “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Vivi felt a little of the weight lift.  “I was getting nervous.  Do what you need.”  She dithered, as she flipped a page less notebook open.  “A-are you… okay?”

“Peachy,” Lewis answered.  It tried to sound chipper, his speech, but remained a little off. “Yeah, I was a little startled. Even big guys like me get spooked if you, y’know, sneak up on them.  You have a habit of doing that.”

Vivi sniggered, and resumed pulling the torn papers together – some of the edges were tinged yellow and black flacked off. As she tucked the pages together, she reviewed some of the presented files.  “I don’t know why I keep all this old stuff.  We put it all on the computer, eventually….”  This was partially a lie, it was hard to sit down and do more writing than was absolutely necessary.  “I should probably be more concerned with why you were poking around in my stuff.”

Lewis poked his head out around the halls end. “Mystery!  He said it was fine!”

A bark of indignation shot from the living room.

“This is your stuff too, though.”  Vivi rolled the weighty granite ball into the closet, beside a pair of red dog shoes.  “But that doesn’t excuse you for being nosey.”

Lewis stepped over to Vivi and crouched down. He had not managed to slip out of his death suit, but a vibrant purple ascot was wrapped about his collar.  “Lo siento, mi Estrella.  I…” Lewis reframed from uttering a noise of mangled, broken static.  Arthur had asked him about those ‘off noises’ he made occasionally, and Lewis was horrified to learn that the debative hums he thought he was making came across as the pop-crackle that faulty radio speakers were so eager to share.  “I think I’ll be sleeping on the couch.  Can I borrow some blankets?”

Vivi stuffed the pages into one of the stripped empty notebook, and gave Lewis a curious look.  She was without her glasses and the corridor was dark, but the locket on Lewis’ suit front was very bright.  Her eyes moved from it, to Lewis’ face.  “It’s not no where near time for bed,” she said.  “Besides, if you want a bed we’re bringing up the blankets too.  These are,” she reached over and patted one blanket on the shelf, and coughed.  “Not very hospitable, don’t you think?”

Lewis helped Vivi up when she began to rise; she stuffed the books back between their cousins and distant relations on the shelves. For a minute Vivi stood and stared at the cluttered shelves, possibly evaluating where she could stick the next new series of fresh documentations.  

“I’ll just head on down and unload some more stuff, then,” Lewis offered.  Vivi shut the door and walked with him to the living room.  A tall shelf by the window held the stereo, its radio was on and the volume low while Mystery listened.  Mystery let his head slump over the couches armrest, ears slanted comfortable as the dog dozed.  “You should rest for a bit,” Lewis went on.  He turned from the sight of Mystery, and indicated Vivi with a finger, lightly accusing. “And I know you didn’t let your guard down once, at all, on our way back.”  He froze when Vivi threw her arms around his sides and hugged.  “¿Qué, cariño?  I’m comin’ right back.”

Vivi mumbled into his chest.  “I know.  I wanted… I need to try and appreciate you more.”  She removed her hands from around Lewis and stepped back from him.  “I sometimes wonder….”  She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes with the end of her scarf.  “No, it’ll be fine.  Don’t get yourself lost, or I’ll come find you.”  A wide grin alit on Lewis face, and he leaned down to give Vivi a little peck on her forehead.  Vivi shivered, and Mystery gave one of his over-the-top dog sighs.

“You won’t even miss me.”  Lewis left her by the couch and went straight to the door.  He gave a small wave, before he pulled the door shut at his back.

Vivi had a hand to her face and was trying not to grin. She turned to Mystery when he grumbled noisily.  The hound was facing her now and had his arms crossed over the armrest of the couch, head tilted and a curious smirk on his snout.  Vivi was concerned for a moment, as Mystery’s bright eyes moved from her and over towards the door Lewis left by.  Mystery’s grin only grew wider.

Then it hit Vivi like a tsunami.  Vivi raced to the door, backpedaled and grabbed the sunglasses left on the countertop, then burst out the door screaming (as softly) as she could muster without alerting Kingsman Mechanics.  “Lew!  Wait! You’re not descent!”