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there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years

Text

Contact Comfort

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~2000

Warnings: None, really? Emotional hurt/comfort and sorta like a touch starved deal doing on, but it’s pretty thoroughly fluffy and sugary-sweet.

A/N: For the “bed sharing” square on my @cmbingo card!

Title is from the referenced psych study, because I’m a dork.

“One sec,” you call, wincing at how thick and nasal your voice sounds.

You wipe your cheeks hastily as you sit up. It’ll be obvious anyway, though; wouldn’t take a profiler to notice your tear tracks and blotchy face.

It’s Spencer. Of course it is — because he’s the last person you want to see you like this, when you’re all snotty and puffy and gross.

His eyes go wide and solemn when he sees your face, genuinely distressed. There’s that empathy again, the too-big heart that everyone seems to overlook in favor of his big brain. You love him for it.

Well, you love him for a lot of things.

“Hi,” he says quietly. “I was going to just ask if you were okay, but… I guess I don’t actually need to ask now.”

You let out a watery little chuckle. “Guess not.”

“You want some company?” He looks hopeful, almost, and then seems to catch himself, dropping his gaze with a shrug. “I understand if you just want your space, though.”

If it was anyone else, you absolutely would not want company right now. But it’s Spencer, so. You pretty much always want him around.

“I was just about to turn on some shitty TV because it felt too quiet in here, honestly. Company would be really nice.”

He gives you a quick twitch of a half-smile as he steps past you, and after you close the door, there’s a pause where you both stand there and look at each other, Spencer suddenly shy as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, in a thin unhappy voice.

“Not really. Just… one of those days. One of those cases.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

You hesitate, because it seems like such an immature thing to say out loud, but you’re too tired to be anything other than honest.

“I could use a hug.”

Spencer’s expression goes all soft and sweet, and your cheeks feel hot under the drying salt water as he steps closer. He wraps his arms around you, and you bury your face in his chest and try to inhale. Your exhale is a ragged little shudder, and you fist both hands in the back of Spencer’s cardigan as you cling to him, feeling raw and sensitive and so very young.

He lets out a quiet, shaky sigh of his own, squeezing you tighter.

How long has it been since anybody hugged you like this? It’s like the contact — the warmth of him — the pressure of his arms around your shoulders — the rise and fall of his chest under your cheek — is lifting some massive weight you never realized you were carrying. All you want in the entire world is to hold him tight, take the comfort while you can, but you know you should pull away.

He hesitates for a second before releasing you, like maybe he doesn’t want to let go either.

Then he’s stepping back, hands in his pockets, slightly pink-cheeked as he bounces on the balls of his feet and gives you one of his frog-faced not-quite-smiles.

“You said something about shitty television?” he asks. “Or maybe we could watch some television that’s not actually shitty?”

“That sounds perfect.”

Turns out Planet Earth is on, which is the rare overlap in your and Spencer’s tastes, and it’s not until you’re eagerly toeing off your shoes that you realize the bed is the only seating option.

Spencer sits cross-legged, with his elbows on his knees and his chin propped on his fists, and he stays as close to the edge of the bed as physically possible. You lean back against the headboard and hug your knees to your chest, feeling the need to hunch over, like you could physically protect your heart.

Then again, it’s much too late for that. You knew your heart was in trouble the moment you met Spencer.

Today, especially, you already feel vulnerable, like all your carefully-constructed walls cracked open the second you let yourself cry, and now you’re just ripped-open and bare. You need a good night’s sleep and a long, hot shower before you’ll be able to go about your life as a professional, fully-functional, grown-up human again. Right now you’re just kind of a mess.

“I know there’s the germ thing,” you blurt out, without looking at Spencer. “But —”

His laugh sounds crackly and nervous, but relieved, like maybe he’d been holding his breath. “Come here.”

You give him a grateful smile as you scoot closer to each other, and apparently you’d been so worried about your own swollen eyes earlier that you hadn’t noticed the fatigue evident in every drawn, wan line of his face.

Not that he isn’t still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

You duck tentatively under Spencer’s arm, and it’s not like you’re cuddling, exactly, because there’s still an inch or so of space between your hips and legs… but the bony plane of his chest, between collarbone and heart, makes a surprisingly perfect pillow. You pull the sleeves of your sweater over your hands, tucking them under your chin, curling up.

The moment feels delicate, like a soap bubble that you could burst if you simply breathe too loudly, and you hold yourself stiffly, at first, not wanting to move any closer for fear of pushing a boundary. It feels like you’re glowing at the points where your bodies are touching; the warm weight of his arm feels like bright spring sunshine across your upper back. His palm on the round of your shoulder is thawing away the last chilly bits of your self-consciousness.

When the commercial break starts, Spencer says, “Do you ever think about how little physical contact the average single adult experiences on a regular basis?” His voice is quiet and almost sheepish.

You smile. “Yeah, I’ve considered it.”

“Especially when we live away from our families,” Spencer says wistfully.

You can feel the vibration of his words in his chest. You shift, making yourself more comfortable, feeling dazed and dumb with his proximity.

“The monkeys. I feel like — you know?”

“Harlow. I know exactly what you mean.”

Trust him to get that from your ridiculously vague mumbling.

“Except they’re babies,” you add.

“The emotional benefits of physical touch don’t decrease just because we get older,” he says softly. “It’s just that the fear of judgement makes it difficult to be honest.”

There’s silence for a minute as the show starts again, and David Attenborough says something about sloths. Spencer’s thumb strokes your shoulder gently, back and forth, soothing. It’s hypnotic, and the tension drains from your muscles, leaving you more relaxed than you’ve felt in a long time.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

You swallow hard. “For what?”

“Being honest.”

There’s no reason for your eyes to be stinging like this, but they are. “I should be thanking you.”

“Nothing to thank me for. This is… really nice.”

“Yeah. It really is.”

He’s quiet again.

Spencer smells like vanilla and old books — although the latter might just be your imagination, something to do with the power of mental association — Spencer could probably explain the science behind that. Your brain has them inextricably linked, though. You’ve caught hints of that smell before, but never up close like this.

The softness of the worn knit of his cardigan makes you want to rub your cheek against it like a cat. His arm, skinny as it may be, feels like protection — like you’re safe here.

After the brutal violence of the case and the emotional turbulence of the day, this quiet, golden moment is even more breathtakingly peaceful by contrast. It doesn’t feel real.

It’s too good to last. This isn’t yours. It’s not going to last, no matter how right it feels, and your chest already aches with the idea of letting him go.

You try to appreciate it while you can, to remember every sensation, but your body is leaden, exhausted down to the bone, completely drained of whatever adrenaline-stubbornness-caffeine combination was keeping you running until now. Spencer’s thumb rubs invisible circles on your shoulder, and he breathes evenly, and you feel safe.

You’re asleep before the next commercial break.

A distant car alarm wakes you, sometime later. In the handful of seconds before it’s turned off, you come to without opening your eyes, trying to remember where you are and who you’re with. The smell of vanilla makes you relax instinctively, before you can process why.

Spencer has all but melted against you in his sleep, soft and boneless. He’s got both arms around you now, holding you close, his breath tickling your forehead. Then he stirs, and you can feel the moment he realizes where he is, because his muscles go tense as he freezes.

“Sorry,” he murmurs hoarsely. He’s barely audible over the infomercial voices coming from the TV. “I didn’t mean to — sorry. I’ll go.”

And before you can think better of it, you whisper, “Don’t.”

He’s still frozen, and silent for a second that feels like an eternity. “You mean —”

“I don’t want you to leave. Stay.”

Honesty seems to be your default setting tonight, and anyway, you can tell without looking at a clock that it’s long past midnight, well into the early-morning hours where boundaries and reservations and reality don’t seem to follow their usual laws. You can’t lie to him (or to yourself) right now.

Spencer’s voice cracks as he says, “Okay. I’ll just — let me get the light.”

You don’t open your eyes as he slips away. This all seems like a dream, and the sharp bright lamp light might make it dissolve around you. You might wake up.

The TV goes quiet, and when you tug at the hotel comforter, sliding between cool sheets fully clothed, the barely-there rasp of moving fabric sounds loud in its absence.

Spencer turns off the lamp, and you open your eyes. You can just see his shape as he navigates the dark room, negative space on a charcoal backdrop, but as your vision adjusts, you can see a faint suggestion of his features in the blue-black.

You feel it, though, when his weight makes the springs of the old mattress dip. You’d expected him to lie on his back again, but instead his face is just inches from yours when his cheek comes to rest on the pillow. You feel the way he’s breathing, quick and shallow and nervous. You feel your heart kick in your ribs, thudding so loud he must be able to hear it.

He reaches out slowly, hooking an arm around your ribs, and pauses with just the very tips of his spidery fingers touching your back, between your shoulder blades: five soft points of contact that you feel so intensely they might as well be electrode pads connecting you to a defibrillator.

This is crossing a line, and you both know it.

It’s not a sexual touch, it’s not that sort of thrill going through you, but something about this feels profoundly intimate. That intimacy is almost more shocking than lust might’ve been, and it’s much more dangerous. It’s the sort of closeness you don’t walk away from unscathed.

Spencer’s fingers flutter, butterfly-wing delicate, like one or the other of you might be trembling.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he whispers.

“Yes.”

Maybe you’re both trembling.

His palm comes to rest on your back, easing you closer, and you shift, settle, readjust. He pulls back and tilts his head just long enough to brush his lips over your temple, soft and sweet, before tucking you neatly under his chin, where you fit like you were meant to be there, with your nose nudging at the gap between his collar and the delicate skin of his throat.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, sounding just as awed as you feel.

“Sweet dreams, Spencer.”

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#cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader

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ratmonky · 3 years

Text

Cigarette Burns

Word Count: 10K

Warnings: non-con, kidnapping, blackmail, torture, urination (no piss kink lol), humiliation, dacryphilia, knife play, manipulation, violence, mild gore, mind break, captivity

AO3 Link

@m00dyb00bs as promised this one’s for you fam <3

All his life, Junpei had been an outcast. Being bullied and hated by others was nothing out of ordinary for him. He was simply used to it by now but he had hoped it would stop once he dropped out of school. When you think of it, people usually move on with their life after graduating high school. They went to college or got a job to finally live their life as an adult.

No sane person would continue bullying their victim from back in school but again, Junpei had never been lucky in his life.

Those guys were now battering him without the need to hold back. Since they were all out of school, they didn’t need to be held accountable for anything they did to him. Nobody was going to scold them or call their parents. None of them were children anymore.

Junpei wasn’t weak. He knew he wasn’t but against those guys, he could never win if he tried standing up for himself. Bigger fish ate the smaller fish, it was that easy.

“What happened to you?” his boss asked when he noticed the new bruises on his neck and face.

Unconsciously, Junpei’s hand went to his face. “Oh, it’s nothing, sir.” He calmly brushed it off as nothing but it made him feel at ease somehow that someone took notice of his well-being.

“You’ll scare the customers looking like that,” his boss said, clicking his tongue. “Go to the back, someone else will take the cash register.”

Junpei nodded languidly. He had gotten the picture.

~~~

“Get up.”

His calm voice loudly echoed in the empty alley. Junpei planted his aching and shaking arms on the concrete floor to push himself up. He wobbled as he got back up on his feet.

They were all laughing, the same guy who had told him to get up gathered all his might and punched Junpei in the face, knocking him off of his feet yet again, Junpei’s lanky body crashed on the concrete.

“He bounces off the ground like a ball!” someone laughed, “It’s so funny, I’ve never thought a human could do that.”

“It’s from the impact,” another one pointed out. “Didn’t you learn about that in school?”

“Argh, man don’t remind me of physics!” he whined. “I’ve seen videos of people jumping from the buildings and they bounce like that when they hit the ground, it’s so crazy dude!! They don’t even start bleeding until like ten seconds later!!”

Junpei groaned in pain but tried to stifle his voice. The tension would fade away soon enough and they would forget about him if they kept going on about their stupid argument. His hand went to his face, it was wet. Slowly, he lifted his hand up to look at the blood dripping from his hand. With a sharp gasp he turned over on the concrete he was laying.

He laid on his back, watching the sky.

This could have been ranked in the top five on one of the worst days of his life, it could take second place, the first one being the day his mother had died.

His vision blurred with tears, he couldn’t move a single muscle anymore.

“Woah, he’s crying!”

“Just like a damn kid, isn’t that pathetic?”

“Wait wait wait, I’ll give him something better to cry about.” Their leader who had been using him as a punching bag walked over to Junpei, he pushed down his tracksuit pants and pissed on Junpei.

They all started laughing louder as Junpei tried squirming but couldn’t even move a finger. He then relented, watching the sky and his assaulter standing on top of him while his clothes were getting soaked in urine. He had worked overtime today but he felt almost too sore. He could feel a weird rush on his body, ah, nevermind, that was probably from this guy pissing on him.

Once the guy was done, he pulled up his pants and they all left.

Junpei didn’t move or rather didn’t bother to move as his nostrils were getting invaded with the ugly stench. It was hitting up to his nose bridge, he tried ignoring it but it was too strong.

By the time he found enough strength to move, he decided to walk back to his place using the dark alleys and the empty streets. The cold night breeze felt like a blizzard thanks to him being soaked in piss, the next day he was definitely going to get sick.

A tremendous wave of rage washed over him. He started to wonder where everything went wrong. Why was he still being humiliated like this? Was it because he was weak and unable to fight back?

Unless Junpei did something to stop them, he would have to continue to live his life in misery. Then Junpei realized the anger he felt towards them wasn’t going to fade away if he only stopped them. He wanted to hurt them like they hurt him for all those years. They had to pay for what they had done.

They had to suffer like he did.

~~~

If there was a button that would kill everyone he hated, he wouldn't press it. However, if there was a button that would kill everyone who hated him, he would press it without hesitation.

Nevertheless, if there existed a button that would make everyone who hurt him and their loved ones suffer, he would choose to press that button.

Death would be too forgiving after all they had done but letting them suffer every single day until their last breath sounded like the perfect option.

~~~

Junpei hadn’t thought he would spend his day off stalking the leader of his bullies who had pissed on him that night but here he was.

That guy was more of a loser than Junpei ever could be. He spent his day walking around and smoking when he wasn’t playing pachinko or disturbing the peace in the streets.

Although it was boring to follow the guy around, Junpei needed at least some information about this guy to hurt him. Junpei could never outpower him and torture him like in his fantasies but if he could blackmail him in some way it would be more than enough. He only needed something to use it against him.

After the fifth hour, he lost hope. The guy was useless, he didn’t have a purpose in his life or something he could use against him. As he was getting ready to call it a day, something happened.

The guy stopped in front of a convenience store, talking to a girl who was sweeping the front of the shop. She said something and they laughed. They walked into the store, Junpei watched through the large store window as he made his way to the cash register and continued talking to the girl until she walked around the counter. The girl didn’t look like she was uncomfortable talking to him.

They continued chatting for a while before the girl crouched down behind the counter. When she was back in Junpei’s view, she was holding a large package. The guy looked annoyed but took the package from her, they exchanged some sort of farewell before he walked out of the store.

Junpei pulled his baseball cap further down and followed the guy to an apartment building. He kept his distance and watched him use a key to get into the building, after a long time of waiting, Junpei made his way towards the building’s entrance but didn’t go inside.

Instead, he checked the name tags next to each doorbell. Then he noticed a familiar last name next to a girl's name.

Bingo.

~~~

They caught him after work the next day.

“Hold him.”

While the two guys held Junpei against the wall, their leader inhaled from his cigarette with a sinister smile as his hand reached for Junpei’s face and cupped his cheek.

Junpei struggled but the other two guys were using their both hands to hold him in place.

The leader’s hand moved up his cheek and carded the long fringe covering Junpei’s forehead back. He took another drag of his cigarette, exhaling it in the vulnerable one’s face before pressing the still-lit cigarette between two other barely healed burns.

When Junpei opened his mouth to scream, the guy shoved the cigarette in his mouth. He forcefully closed his jaw shut and snickered two words, demanding. “Eat it.”

Having no other choice, Junpei chewed. The tobacco which wasn’t made for consumption through the mouth was bitter than anything these guys made him eat before, he wanted to gag as the small leaves covered the inside of his mouth, making it impossible to chew any more as they absorbed his saliva, leaving him with a dry mouth.

They laughed at the same time he was struggling to breathe.

In the end, Junpei so desperately wanted to be the last one to laugh.

~~~

Junpei spent two weeks preparing everything. He learned your working schedule, which route you took home, and just how much your brother treasured you. From his observations, he could confidently say that you were the only thing a guy like him cared about.

You were perfect.

~~~

Tonight was going to be the last late-night shift ever for you. Not because you hated it but because your brother insisted you stopped working at night since he believed it was dangerous for any girl your age.

Unlike any other nights, you had told him you would walk home yourself, although he refused at first, when you lied to him about promising to take a taxi home, he relented.

It had been quite a calm night, even during the rush hour after the bars closed, it was quiet.

Although you weren’t supposed to close the store any earlier than the time that was written on the entry door, you clearly weren’t going to have anyone coming here after this hour. So, you decided to wipe the floors and close the cash register. As the machine was printing out the entire day’s worth of receipt, you flipped the ‘open’ sign on the door to ‘closed’.

Once the store was clean and ready to close, you went to the dressing room to take off your work shirt. It wasn’t your turn to wash any of the shirts this week which meant that you could throw the shirt into the laundry basket that was already filled up with dirty shirts without hesitation. Your coworker was definitely going to be angry but you couldn’t care less, they often left the toilet clogged and never changed the coffee filter when they used the coffee machine in the break room. It was simply your way of getting back at them.

After counting up all the money and leaving the receipts in the small safe, you turned off the lights to exit from the back with the trash. You took out the keys from the front pocket of your pants and locked the back door.

Goosebumps prickled your skin, the cold of the night was too harsh. Strolling out of the warmth of the store into the crisp night air was like being suddenly flung into a blizzard. You shivered, throwing the trash into the large dumpster and wrapping your arms around yourself.

Your teeth were chattering when you bit your tongue out of a sudden because of something moving behind the dumpsters. Whipping your head around abruptly, you tried to see if what you saw from the corner of your eye was just your imagination.

Never the one to have quick reflexes or ever had been in a fight or flight situation, you stood there, staring at a lanky guy who was holding a handkerchief in his hand.

Where did he come from? Was he hiding behind the dumpster?

As if you still weren’t sure if what you were seeing was real or not, you blinked, completely frozen in place.

None of you moved.

“H-hello? C-can I help you?” Maybe he was one of the drunkards but you knew that wasn’t true. He was standing still, not even wavering.

It was quiet.

Seconds passed before you finally came back to your senses. You could simply walk away from him. Internally slapping yourself in the face, you took a step back to turn around.

Then he took a step, it made your breath hitch but you had made your mind. Turning around on your heels, you walked. He moved too. Your pulse went haywire in terror and before you could start running, you felt a cloth being pressed over your mouth, making you lose consciousness almost immediately.

~~~

The first thing you noticed was the smell of mold, dust, and wet concrete.

You felt shivers run down your spine. Your stomach churned and you froze as you recalled everything that had happened. Jolting up from the mold-covered mattress, you noticed two more things as soon as you started moving your body. There was a single metal anklet chaining you to a pillar and your hands were tied behind you.

When you opened your mouth to scream, you noticed another thing. Your mouth was taped.

Starting to hyperventilate, you found yourself crying in fear. Muffled sounds of your sobbing echoed in the dark until a loud creaking noise made you quiet down. You held your breath to listen carefully.

Click.

It was a door.

Someone was here with you.

It had to be your kidnapper.

Footsteps.

He was getting closer.

Okay, take a deep breath. Your brother had taught you how to fight, you had to go for a punch on the throat, kick him between the legs, and shove the inside of your palm up to his chin with everything you got. Well… although you had to be untied in those scenarios, you knew how to fight.

What else, what else?

You moved your leg and the chain made a clanking sound.

The chain, it was long enough to-

“Brought you food, I can’t stay here today but I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

You watched the guy put down a tray of food on the bed. They were all in bowls. Rice and water. By the time you looked up to him, you saw that he was wearing a facemask and gloves. He noticed your stare and kneeled on the mattress.

Suddenly, you started squirming, not wanting him to come close to you. Yet it was futile, he pressed you down by your shoulder.

“I’ll peel the tape off,” he announced and scratched the corner of the tape until he managed to lift enough of it to be able to grab. Then he peeled it off abruptly, making you scream in pain. “Ah, I’m going to be late…” He got up from the mattress while checking his phone. “Like I said, I’ll be back tomorrow-”

“Who are you?! Why are you doing this?! Where am I?!” you screamed, your voice broke thrice as if you were too dehydrated. How long had you been here?

He didn’t answer and walked out from the way he came, you heard him shut the door.

Someone could hear you now that your mouth was free. So you started screaming and finally got up to your feet. You were discalced and the wet concrete was incredibly uncomfortable to walk on, the small pebbles of things you couldn’t see prickled under your feet.

Hours passed, or it felt like hours passed but your throat was sore from screaming nonstop. The chain wasn’t that long, you couldn’t reach anywhere as you only could go around in circles.

Since you were exhausted, you relented and walked back to the mattress to sit on a spot where it didn’t have any mold.

Your stare landed on the tray of food the guy left earlier. You were starving but how were you supposed to eat when your hands were tied behind your back? You could have tried moving them front by sliding them down your back while crouching and then stepping back but the metal chain around your ankle was preventing you from doing exactly that.

Moving closer to the tray of food, you wondered why everything was in a bowl yet again.

The realization hit you at once when you saw the bone design on the bowls. He was messing with you, he expected you to eat like a damn dog. That made you lose it altogether. You kicked the tray as far as you could and continued screaming.

~~~

You had never realized how slow time moved until now. Hours were like years. You couldn’t move because your stomach was sizzling with acid, trying to basically digest itself and making you regret kicking the tray.

No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t reach the food, the chain was too short.

Was this how you were going to die?

Ugh, what are you stupid? People won’t die from starvation or thirst this early and you would be fine… he said he was coming back.

Tomorrow night?

Was it morning when he said that?

You didn’t know the answer.

Your head started spinning again.

~~~

Something was poking your cheek.

“Hey.”

You jerked awake, startling the guy.

It was quiet as he waited for you to sit up. You didn’t have the strength to yell or scream at him anymore.

“You should eat this time, I don’t know when I’ll be back.” He put the tray down on the mattress but he didn’t leave like the last time. He stood there, waiting.

You leaned forward towards the tray, it was the same food from before and they were in the same bowls. Your eyes scanned around the large place, the bowls you had kicked weren’t anywhere to be seen, so they had to be the same bowls.

Your gaze landed on the guy, he was still wearing a face mask and gloves. There were a chair and a large bag next to the pillar far away from the one you were chained to, completely out of your reach.

“Come on, eat now, I’ll put it away or the mice will gather on this floor again.”

“I can’t eat like this,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. “Untie me.”

“That’s why they’re in a bowl, use your mouth.” Was his answer.

“I’m not going to humiliate myself like that.” For someone in captivity, you sure were asking for first-class treatment.

“If you wanna leave here you might wanna do the things I say when I say them,” he said, walking over to the chair to sit down. “It’ll speed up the process.”

“Why am I here?” you demanded, sounding a little too annoyed. “What process?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, watching you in silence.

“I have a brother,” you hissed through your teeth, “He’ll know I’m missing and once he finds you, he’ll make you regret everything-”

“He’s the reason why you’re here.” His tone was blank, devoid of anything.

“Huh?”

“Eat now, we have things to do.”

“People will notice my absence!” You raised your voice, “I have friends and a job, they will all notice.”

“They won’t.” He didn’t explain further but you weren’t dumb. He was wearing a face mask and gloves, the food was just rice and water.

“Y-you planned this…”

“You should eat, we have things to do.”

There were a thousand different thoughts going through your mind in a millisecond. “I’m not gonna eat,” you grumbled, “Let me go.”

You heard him sigh before he stood up to walk over to the mattress. He grabbed the tray and walked away with it, putting it on the chair.

“I guess it’s better if we start now and then you can eat.” He crouched next to the large back, unzipping it. You saw him take some stuff out but couldn’t make out what they were. “What kind of a guy is your brother?”

The question was weird. You couldn’t place your finger on it but it felt like a trap. As if he was testing you.

“I asked a question.”

Your shoulders tensed when he raised his voice.

“He’s protective and kind,” you blurted out.

That made him scoff, he shook his head before getting back up and turned around. Immediately upon him walking closer to the mattress, you noticed that he was holding a box cutter.

It made a repetitive clicking sound as he pushed the blade out.

Fear came rushing back as you remembered once again that you were kidnapped by a stranger who clearly had planned this out.

“I’m- I’m sorry, please, wait!” You started squirming, hurrying to get up from the bed so you could at least dodge but he already had one hand grabbing your shoulder.

You were going to die, it was that easy. He was wearing gloves and hadn’t even touched you directly in any way, you were going to get brutally murdered and he wasn’t going to leave any evidence behind. You were- You were-

“Don’t move,” he warned, holding the box cutter where you could see it. You nodded rapidly in response, tears already blurring your vision.

You felt your shirt being stretched and before you knew it, being cut.

“W-what-”

“Your clothing is in the way.”

He tore the rest of the fabric left from your shirt and moved to your pants.

You watched in panic as he hooked a finger under the front of your pants and started cutting. The blade was too sharp, slicing the fabric of your pants smoothly and quickly. You weren’t dumb enough to struggle right now when the blade was so near your flesh, he was being careful to not cut you and you didn’t want to mess up his concentration.

By the time he managed to completely cut your pants and leave you only in your underwear, you caught a glimpse of his red ear and neck.

He flipped you over to grab the remains of your shirt and pants, after grabbing them he walked back to the large bag. The rustling sound filled your ears but you were too busy drowning in your tears. That had scared you and slapped you back to reality. You were helpless in this situation, no matter what you said or did, this guy could do whatever he wanted to you.

As long as you did everything he said, you would be unharmed, right? Wasn’t that what he said before? He also told you to not move so he wouldn’t cut you. Maybe this was just a prank.

Yeah, that had to be it.

Your brother could be a jokester sometimes, he had probably paid someone to prank you. Yes, that was it.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked.

Ahh, you hadn’t realized that you were laughing. Your laughter quieted down but you didn’t answer him because you didn’t know why either.

His footsteps echoed in the warehouse, you heard them come closer before you felt the mattress sink. Instead of turning around, you listened to what he could be doing.

Rustling, plastic wrap opening, and paper being ripped. There was a momentary pause before you heard the familiar click sound of a lighter.

He inhaled and as soon as he did, he started coughing.

He was smoking… or trying to.

“How do people even smoke these?” he asked himself.

Only while he was taking another whiff you realized he probably had pulled down or taken off his mask. You needed to see his face if you wanted to identify him once you got out and-

“Don’t move,” he warned. “When you struggle, it hurts more. Trust me, I know from experience.”

You didn’t get to ask him what he was talking about as a sharp pain on your back made you scream in surprise. Your body twisted and moved away from whatever that was but a hand pressed you down onto the mattress by your head, keeping you in place. He used his knee to press you down by your back to make sure you couldn’t move at all.

“It’s not lit,” he mumbled and after his remark, you heard the lighter again. He inhaled, coughed, and then you felt the sharp pain on your shoulder this time. The pain was more vivid, you heard the sizzling coming from the cigarette and your skin felt like it was burning as the cigarette’s lit tip extinguished on your skin.

“Stop! Please! It hurts!”

He pulled it back but soon again you heard the lighter before he took another whiff of the cigarette, coughed, and pressed it on your skin.

“Why are you doing this? Please stop!”

“Your brother does this to me almost every single day,” he said, holding you in place and twisting the cigarette’s lit end on your skin. “Did you know?”

Petrified, you couldn’t say anything. You couldn’t understand what was happening. Your entire body stilled as you heard the lighter again.

“Please,” you choked out, voice breaking. “I didn’t know. This has nothing to do with me! I didn’t do anything.” You were becoming desperate as his hand moved away from your hair to start stubbing out cigarettes on the other shoulder.

“I didn’t do anything either,” he said. “But he never stopped, no matter how much I begged.”

“I’m not my brother, please, I’m innocent.”

“So was I.”

Another burn and then another and then another-

Your tears had dried by the time he was done.

“Here’s the food, you should eat now before you pass out.”

You couldn’t roll on your back, the skin on your back was burning up and you were sure it was bleeding.

He must have noticed because he picked the tray up and put it right in front of you. This time, you didn’t say anything and stuck your face into the bowl, ëating the rice without taking a breath. As you were gulping down the water, you noticed that you needed to pee.

Seeing that you were done, he took the tray away from you.

“I…”

“Hmm?” He paused to listen to what you wanted to say.

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

“If it’s pee, you can do it here.” He was being serious. “There’s no bathroom here and I forgot to bring a bucket.”

Your lips pressed together but it didn’t stop you from sobbing. “Why are you doing this? I didn’t do anything to you.”

“You should blame your brother for this.”

You knew your brother could be a douche at times but you had never thought he would hurt someone like this. He was… so caring and loving towards you. He was always so careful and protected you from any danger.

“Why isn’t he here instead of me then?” If he hurt this guy to the point of him turning into a monster, he deserved to be here, not you.

“I want him to suffer,” he said.

He was planning to get to your brother by hurting you, it was that simple but he didn’t know your brother like you did. If your brother found out about what he did to you, he would actually kill him. The last guy who broke your heart by cheating on you had gotten three broken bones, there was no way this guy would survive his wrath.

Oh…

You started to connect the dots.

Your brother had anger issues, he took them out from anyone he could overpower. He was caring and protective of you because he was scared someone would treat you the way he treated others.

He had failed miserably.

Everything he did lead up to your torment.

Learning this wouldn’t anger him. Learning this would make him suffer. It could push him into a bottomless hole where he will only blame himself for everything until he would kill himself.

This guy didn’t seem like he was enjoying this, whatever he was doing to you hurt him more than it hurt you and it was your brother who did this to him.

He wanted your brother to suffer by breaking the thing he treasured the most.

“If… I’ll go and check the place again,” he announced. “I didn’t really check if there were any bathrooms.”

You nodded languidly and continued lying down on your stomach.

He came back a while later and grabbed something from his bag anteriorly returning to your side. “There’s a bathroom but the water pipes in there must be damaged, the flush didn’t work and the water coming from the faucet was black. I have wet wipes with me though.”

Metal clinking on metal echoed, no it was a familiar sound of keys rattling. You lifted your head up from the mattress and you couldn’t believe your eyes. He was dangling a key in front of you. He was holding wet wipes and something else in his other hand.

“I will untie you but you have to behave if you don’t wanna be hurt.” He put the key back in his pants’ front pocket and leaned forward to put on a collar around your neck. “Okay?”

“What is that?” you asked, planting your knees on the mattress and using your legs to sit up.

“A shock collar, its voltage is high enough to pin you down.” His explanation was quick as he was unlocking the metal anklet. “Please don’t make me use it.”

He helped you get up but your eyes were on the small device he was holding. It definitely belonged to the collar, it was a remote control. If you could take it away from him, you would be able to run away.

“Let’s go,” he said, holding you by your arm.

Okay, you needed to find a way to distract him. He needed to drop his guard enough for you to grab the device from him.

He led you out of the large opening and down some stairs before making a sharp right turn. You were panicking because all of the windows were blocked by wooden planks and you couldn’t tell where the exit was.

“It’s here.”

You walked inside a filthy bathroom, the tile floor that was supposed to be white was a disgusting brown and the stalls were covered in graffiti. You were discalced, there was no way you were going to walk inside without something between the filthy floor and your feet.

“Can I borrow your shoes?”

“No.” He dragged you inside and led you straight to a stall without a door. “Be quick.”

You stood in front of the dirty toilet, the ceramic was smeared with brown streaks and you could only hope it was mud.

Turning back to him, you trembled in panic. “A bucket… or outside would be better. Please, it’s so filthy here-”

“I have to leave soon, you either pee now or wet the bed later.” He wasn’t looking at you, averting his gaze to anywhere but you. “You don’t have another choice.”

You looked down and remembered that you were only in your underwear, the torture from earlier had made you forget about everything.

Ugh, you pressed your thighs together. You needed to relieve yourself, urgently. Yet another problem came up. “How am I going to do it when I’m tied up? I can’t pull my underwear down.”

His ears and neck turned red immediately, when he spoke, he was stuttering. “I-I’ll pull it down for you.”

There was this urge to scream bubbling in your throat but you had to bite it as you watched him put the device in his pocket and crouched in front of you.

You stopped breathing when his gloved hands reached for your sides, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties before staggeringly pulling them down. He was breathing heavily, shoulders moving with each breath he took.

“H-here.”

He stood up, hands pulling down his shirt to cover a small problem you didn’t need to know about.

“Are you going to wait here?” The least he could do was to give you privacy. “I can’t do it when you’re staring, it’s embarrassing.”

As if he only noticed you were still tied up and wouldn’t be able to run away when you’re this vulnerable, he nodded rapidly before taking a step back. “I’ll wait outside, let me know when you’re done so I can-” His eyes were on your halfway down panties, he stopped himself from talking and grabbed the wet wipes from the sink he had placed them on. “Just… be quick.”

Once he left, you took a deep breath, holding back your tears no matter how humiliating this situation was.

Okay, okay, okay.

This is fine.

You stared at the toilet and gagged dryly. There was no way you were going to sit on that…

Wait, you had heard that there were people who could pee standing up, maybe you could too.

Ugh, you would do anything to avoid sitting on this filthy thing anyway.

Taking a hesitant step back and lowering yourself reluctantly on the toilet, you stopped midway to try and see if you could do it.

The result?

It was as expected.

You pissed yourself, not even a drop landing inside the toilet.

A sob left your lips and the shame you felt was immeasurable. The guy was going to laugh if he saw you like this and what’s worse was that he was probably going to leave you like this.

You wondered how pathetic you looked right now.

Ahh, you hoped your brother had so much fun torturing this guy! You hoped he felt so powerful whenever he humiliated this guy! You hoped it was worth it for you to be standing here right now with your piss training down your leg, panties halfway down your knees, and shaking from the pain of the cigarette burns on your shoulders.

Your sobs turned into giggling.

“Are you done?”

“I pissed myself,” you replied, laughing hysterically but as soon as the guy was in front of you, your laughter turned back into sobs.

He didn’t laugh, rather he looked at you in pity. Which made you whimper audibly before continuously apologizing.

“I’m sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” your voice got quieter. “I feel so miserable and pathetic. I can’t do this anymore. Please let me go.”

Without saying anything, he grabbed the wet wipes, opening the pack and pulling out a bunch of the wipes. “Come here.”

You took a wobbly step forward and another until you were in front of him.

He crouched, you stilled as he began pulling your piss-soaked panties down, wordlessly urging you to step out of them. Once you did, he used the wet wipes to clean your legs. He quickly wiped at the fluid running down your legs, doing his best to get it all in one go but he needed more wipes.

“Could you spread your legs wider?” He then started wiping your inner thighs after you complied, moving in a circular motion and avoiding looking at your bare pussy. By the time he was done wiping your legs he stood up, grabbing two more wet wipes from the back. “Do girls wipe from back to front or vice versa?”

The question was so out of nowhere that it made you snort.

He sighed at your reaction and pressed the wet wipes on your slit, moving it along your folds.

“Ah.” Suddenly, your thighs pressed together, shaking as you pressed your forehead against his chest. The sensation had caught you in surprise, it even made you gasp softly.

He blushed bright red, wiping the front of your pussy and pulling his hand back immediately. “D-done,” he announced.

You nodded against his chest.

Your plan to escape past forgotten, you walked back to the room and let him lock the anklet around your ankle again before taking out the shock collar. He brought a blanket he pulled out from the bag and draped it over your lap.

“I’ll… I’ll be back in the morning to bring a bucket and underwear for you.”

That was it?

He was going to leave you like this?

You were almost naked except for your bra now and you were exhausted. Having your hands tied around your back when there were so many cigarette burns on your shoulders only added to your pain.

“H-hey,” you called, “Can’t you untie my hands? It’s really uncomfortable.”

He stilled for a moment, thinking. Decidedly, his hand went back and he fished out the box cutter from his back pocket. He pushed the blade out, cutting whatever thing he had used to tie your hands off.

When the pressure disappeared, you felt your shoulders relax. You put your hands on your lap, rubbing your bleeding wrists gently.

He retrieved the thick black zip ties and walked away. “I’ll leave some more food and water then. I’ll leave the wet wipes here too, just find a corner to relieve yourself next time.”

You nodded, he left a couple of store-bought tuna mayo-filled onigiris and a bottle of water on the mattress before placing the wet wipes on the concrete ground.

“Um, uh… Goodnight. I’ll come back in the morning.”

”Yeah.”

He left.

You waited.

Waited.

When you were sure he was gone for the night, you grabbed one of the onigiris, tore the packaging open, and split the ball in half. With your shaking hands, you scooped out the filling and smeared it on your ankle.

Mayonnaise was slippery, it could help you slip the anklet out.

Nevertheless, it didn’t work.

The anklet was adjusted just right around your ankle, it didn’t budge any lower or higher, even with the help of the mayonnaise.

Screaming in anger, you wiped everything off with the wet wipes so the guy wouldn’t notice anything odd tomorrow.

You had to get out of here.

Think.

The chain clanked and you froze.

Your eyes landed on the anklet and followed the chain it was wrapped around.

An idea.

This could work.

No.

This was going to work.

~~~

Click.

You pushed yourself up from the mattress instantly.

He was back.

You could feel the blood pumping through your body, hands shaking from nervousness.

It was completely silent before he gracefully walked inside, he was holding a bucket and a plastic bag. His face was blank but his skin was pale and the face mask was barely covering his nose. He was covered in sweat, hair sticking to his forehead. “I ran here,” he panted. “Let’s be quick, I can’t be late to work again.”

He walked closer, dropping the plastic bag near the mattress and placing the bucket carefully down.

Your lips kept trying to curl down into a frown but you fought to keep your expression neutral as he kneeled next to the plastic bag and pulled out a fresh pack of cotton panties. “I’ll put the collar on you and untie you so you can dress yourself up, okay?”

Nodding, you kept your eyes on him as your breathing became ragged. As soon as he unlocked your anklet, you were going to pounce on him, wrap the chain around his neck and hopefully choke him until he passed out.

That was the plan.

Simple.

He instructed you to stand up while you had the blanket wrapped around your waist. Once you did as he told you, he put the shock collar around your neck and gave you the keys.

Dumbfounded, you stared at him.

“You can do it yourself, I’m gonna watch from a distance.”

No.

This would mean that your plan was ruined.

Yet, you took the keys from him and he took a couple of steps back, holding the device in his hands.

Your knuckles were white as you unlocked the anklet and tore the packaging of the underwear open. Putting one on, you let the blanket fall down on the mattress.

“Good, now put the anklet back on and throw me the keys.”

You hesitated but still kneeled to grab the anklet and put it around your ankle. Pausing, you pushed the key inside the lock but didn’t lock the anklet. It still made a metallic click sound but it was unlocked.

With shaky hands you threw the keys back at him, being careful to not move your leg so the anklet wouldn’t slip and fall down, ruining your scheme.

He walked over to where the keys had landed and leaned down to grab them. “I brought some more stuff, they’re in the bag. I don’t think I can torture you like your brother tortures me. I’ll… I’ll be back tonight to take you back.”

The color drained from your face and you stood there, shaking. “You’re letting me go?”

“I mean, I don’t feel enjoyment from this like I thought I would,” he breathed. “My mind was clouded with revenge so much that I wanted to torture you who had nothing to do with it.”

All of his emotions had drained away in an instant, leaving him reeling.

Hatred was a terrifying emotion.

Junpei could feel it surrounding him. He knew he didn’t hate you but his grudge for your brother hadn’t appeared out of thin air.

He knew it wasn’t fair to you to hold you accountable for what your brother had done to him but he couldn’t help but think of-

No matter how it was, Junpei had promised his mother to bear the burdens he had earned.

Your brother was a nasty bully. His crimes weren't anyone else’s but his fault.

Junpei knew that.

There was no way he could hurt you like he hurt him but… the burden was just too much.

His hands were twitching as he struggled to put away the keys. With an audible yet shuddered sigh, he walked towards you to take off the shock collar but he had moved so abruptly that it made you take a step back, the anklet opened and fell on the ground with a loud clatter.

Whether it be from shock or clumsiness, he dropped the remote control for the shock collar as well.

He froze and so did you.

None of you moved.

Your eyes were on the device, it was closer to you than him. If you were quick, you could grab it before he could. You wouldn’t be able to take off the collar right now, your only chance was the device.

He knew exactly what you were thinking.

Both of you moved at the same time.

It was as if everything was moving in slow motion, you saw him reach the device before you but your legs didn’t stop, your body crashed against him, tackling him on the ground.

The device flew from his grasp when his body hit the floor and you groaned.

He was getting ready to crawl towards the remote control when you grabbed the chain.

There was a small moment of hesitation as you wrapped the chain around his neck and pulled it with full force.

The guy’s body stilled, going completely stiff as his hands went to his neck, trying to dig under the chain to pull it away.

You only had to hold out until he passed out, you could do this. Just keep pulling. Keep pulling.

One of his hands reached forward, trying to reach the device.

You pulled harder.

His fingertip managed to touch the remote control.

You planted your feet on the floor to pull the chains, it was enough force to knock him out, or at least that was what you had thought.

Before you knew it, an indescribable pain ripped down your spine. Your grip loosened around the chain and you crashed on your knees and hands but then electricity tore around your body, leaving you spasming on the concrete floor, unable to grasp anything as the electricity zapped through each nerve you had.

It felt like minutes until it stopped.

Your body continued spasming as the guy crawled on top of you with his fist up in the air.

The moment his fist met your face, it was hard. Your whole body jolted from the pain and you bounced off from the concrete. The impact left you even more dumbfounded than the electricity that had zapped through your body.

You felt another punch and then another until finally, he stopped.

He yelled in frustration and pain. You couldn’t tell what he was saying but all of the words were being said through his teeth, he sounded very angry.

Haha, perhaps now he had changed his mind and decided to not let you go.

Maybe if you hadn’t tried to escape, you would have been free tonight.

You heard the anklet’s lock click before you lost consciousness.

~~~

Junpei got scolded by his boss for coming in a half an hour late to work. He was told to work at the back yet again but he endured everything. Just like how he was enduring the pain around his neck.

You had crushed his windpipe, that was for sure. It hurt when he spoke but fortunately it hadn’t affected his voice. If he lost his voice now, he wouldn’t be able to work at all. He needed the money to pay for his rent.

Ahh, he was worried about the wrong things.

He chuckled to himself and his brows furrowed when his throat clenched from the pain.

Tonight, he decided, he was going to finish this tonight.

“Jun! Yo man, I’m leaving now!” His coworker entered the break room suddenly, startling him.

“Oh, alright. See you next week then.”

“Yeah, I closed the cash register and mopped the floors, so you can leave once you restock the cigarette displays!” He checked his phone screen and quickly turned around. “See ya, I gotta catch the last bus!”

Junpei didn’t even get to say anything as the guy left. He finished washing the dishes and walked back into the front of the store. Behind the counter, he started stocking the empty cigarette displays.

The sooner he was done, the sooner he could leave. He already had a day off tomorrow so everything would go according to the plan.

Well, Junpei was never that lucky.

The bell over the store’s door chimed, indicating that someone walked in the store. Junpei had thought it was his coworker who had forgotten something but then he heard the familiar laughter of the same three guys.

He turned around hesitantly as his bullies were leaning towards the counter.

The leader was smirking, “Yo, Jun. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

His boss had never installed security cameras and they knew that. They dragged him out of the shop after grabbing some cigarettes.

It was easy to guess where this was going.

“I had a terrible day, Jun!” whined the leader. “I need you to stay still so it’ll end quick, okay?”

Blood splashed onto the concrete ground when his fist met Junpei’s face for the fifth time. Junpei's eyes landed on the dark red liquid pooling under his feet.

“Woah, these brass knuckles are good!” One of the guys laughed.

“The guy who sold them to me said they hurt like a bitch.” The other one stared at Junpei being battered by their leader. “I’d say he’s enduring it well, if I were in his place I’d be bawling my eyes out.”

“Being punched by that guy is the worst, I’m kinda glad we’re friends.”

“Ew, dude. You’re gonna make me puke.”

The leader glowered at Junpei and swung his fist with everything he had. He drove his knuckles into his face and put all of his weight into it until the squelch of tearing flesh and blood spattered across his knuckles.

Junpei’s body could not take it any longer, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He was out cold in seconds.

~~~

Rage.

That was all he felt as he was packing his bag.

All the thoughts he had, in the beginning, coming back.

He wanted to make that piece of shit regret his entire existence. He wanted to make sure that fucker couldn’t walk out into public without feeling ashamed and scared. He wanted to make him suffer for a lifetime.

Junpei was seeing clearly now.

His plan had been the only right way from the beginning. He couldn’t believe how he wavered from his own resolve just because some girl was playing innocent. You were the same as your brother.

You had to be.

None of it mattered anyway.

What mattered was the end result.

And Junpei knew he was going to get the result he wanted nevertheless if it meant he would lose a piece of his humanity.

~~~

With a sudden bang the door opened, it made you jolt as you were eating one of the melon bread the guy had bought for you.

Your ears were ringing as you stared at the guy walking inside with a backpack. He was shaking violently.

He was wearing the gloves as usual but his face was bare. Well, for the most part. It was covered in bandages that were bleeding through and the rest of his face was swollen.

His appearance sent a fierce shudder through your body because you knew who had done this to him.

Your lips had barely parted to say something when he was hastily walking towards you with a deranged look in his eyes.

You kicked on the mattress to get away but he took out the familiar device from his front pocket. Your hand went to your neck, the collar, it was still on.

Before you could register anything, electricity struck through your body, leaving you spasming on the mattress.

“You know, I was still planning to release you even after what you did.” He started digging through his bag. “But your brother made me change my mind. You really should thank him for that.”

He hadn’t realized how you couldn’t hear him at all from the shock coursing through your body. Once he saw you frothing at the mouth, he turned the device off to crawl on top of you with his video camera pointed at your face. “Good thing that I’m weak, your face is still recognizable.”

You stared into the camera lens and then at him.

Panic started to course through your body.

“Please,” you begged, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, you didn’t do anything. You had nothing to do with me and I had nothing to do with you. This is just about your shitty brother.”

“Please…”

“Stop crying, it’s annoying.” He squished your cheeks together with one gloved hand until your lips puckered, continuing to film everything at the same time. “But I’d say your crying face is really erotic.”

You sobbed, tears streaming down your face.

“Yeah, that’s the face.”

He let go of your face and pulled out the box cutter from his back pocket. “Don’t move,” he warned and you didn’t dare to. He sliced your bra right from the middle, this time, the tip of the blade cut your skin.

You yelped in pain and blood started oozing out from the cut. Pressing his finger where your cut was, he pulled the skin down, making more blood gush out. You watched in terror with wide eyes as he filmed the blood streaming down from your chest to your stomach.

“Okay, now tell the audience your name and age.” He returned his attention to you.

He was going to show this to others. This would count as evidence.

“My attacker has dark hair and dark eyes, he is-”

“Introduce yourself nicely or I’ll have to make it hurt.” He pressed the box cutter’s blade against your cheek. “I will edit this video and post it later for everyone to see if your brother even comes close to me.”

“I’m the one with a reputation,” you whimpered, “Please, it’s got nothing to do with me. Please.”

“That’s why you’re here,” he scoffed. “You have nothing to do with this. You’re like me! You did nothing wrong other than existing in this timeline! If only your brother wasn’t a douchebag narcissist, you wouldn’t be here!” He was yelling in your face, you were trembling in fear, completely unaware of what could happen in the next second.

You felt the cold metal of the blade moving down your body until it met the fabric of your panties. He slashed the fabric, giving you another small but deep cut on your hip.

“I feel so sorry for you,” he said but his tone didn’t match his words. “So sorry. You’re so weak and defenseless. Weaker than me. Oh, I feel so sorry for you.”

He tore the rest of the fabric off of you as he panted in excitement.

“I understand why your brother enjoys it so much now! I feel like a God. You’re at my mercy and you will take whatever comes your way because I have the power. If only you were a little stronger! Ahh, you’re so pitiful, it must be so unbearable!”

You froze, unable to do anything but watch in horror, he was so deranged that it was frightening. He had actually lost his mind.

“(name)!” he yelled, holding the camera up to your face, “Introduce yourself so we can begin! It’ll be just like a movie! First the actress’s name and the title screen!”

“I-”

“Speak up!”

With trembling lips, you introduced yourself, arms covering your chest as he was filming you.

“Be honest, (name), are you a virgin?”

A sob.

“I need an answer.”

A nod.

“Ahh, you’re going to be my first as well. How miserable!”

Your eyes widened and you started crying harder.

He put the box cutter back in his pocket and placed the video camera next to your head as he reached behind him to grab his bag. He searched through his bag until he found what he was looking for.

Smiling, he took out a cigarette from the pack and placed it between your lips. “I’ll light it for you,” he whispered. The cigarette was shaking along with your trembling lips as he lit the tip. “Inhale.”

You inhaled and the smoke filled your lungs, the nicotine calmed your senses slightly until you had to exhale.

He took the cigarette away from you once it was fully lit.

“Open your mouth.”

“Noo-”

He forced his fingers in your mouth to pry your jaw open. Holding your tongue tightly between two gloved fingers, he pulled the muscle out forcefully before pressing the lit tip down on your tongue.

You heard it sizzle and the pain was indescribable.

Your hands reached out to his arms, trying to scratch at his skin but it was futile, he was wearing a thick sweatshirt.

Letting your tongue go, he pushed the cigarette inside your mouth.

“Chew.”

Tears blurred your vision, it worked in your favor though, so you didn’t have to see the dark amusement in his eyes as the tobacco leaves exploded in your mouth, absorbing the saliva and leaving your mouth dry.

“Swallow.”

You shook your head, there was no way you could, there was no-

“It’s not that hard. Your brother made me eat it a couple of times before.”

He relented when you shook your head again. His eyes landed on the water bottle he had left for you earlier and reached for it. Opening the lid, he poured it down your face.

The liquid that managed to get inside your mouth helped you spit out most of the leaves but not all of them. While you were busy coughing, Junpei unbuckled his belt. He was staring down at you, watching you struggle with some dark amusement, and the dangerous glint in his eyes made you tense. You defensively squeezed your legs together and watched him pull his pants down just enough to let his hard cock bounce free.

You found yourself violently trembling as panic coursed through your body. There was no will to fight left in you, exhausted and so in pain, all you could do was lie still.

“Calm down,” he assured, caressing your cheek. “What we’re gonna do next won’t hurt physically.”

He reached for his bag again, taking out something you didn’t recognize. “Ahh, this?” Noticing your stare he held it up for you to see, “It’s a condom, I don’t wanna leave any evidence.”

At that moment, you wished your brother would drop dead wherever he was. You wanted him to die in such a miserable way that he would suffer even after death.

Rolling the condom down his cock, Junpei grabbed the video camera pointing the lens at your face. He was being extra careful to not film himself. “Anything you wanna say to the audience?”

“...”

You laid there motionlessly as he placed himself between your legs, moving them until he got comfortable and filming your bare pussy.

He pushed a gloved finger inside and twisted it around before pulling it out. He filmed the clear fluid coating the latex on his finger with a smile.

Junpei put a hand on your thigh, spreading your leg wider and pulling you towards his hips until his cock was looming over your crotch.

Proceeding to film you, he placed his hand on your bleeding chest. He covered his fingers with the blood and used it to smear it around his cock. The condom turned an ugly orange as the plastic rubbing on plastic made a disturbing squeaking noise.

He ran the tip of his cock across your slit and pressed it against your entrance, filming it closely as he pushed himself inside of you.

You tensed and yelped as his cock tore your hymen. It continued stretching your virgin walls until his entire length was buried in your pussy.

For a brief moment, Junpei stilled, he took a deep breath to adjust to your virgin walls squeezing him before he started to move.

“W-wait.” Your tongue felt foreign in your own mouth, it was swollen, most likely bleeding as well.

He listened or you thought he did. You thought it was over, finally, the torture was over- but you didn’t realize the wicked smile on his lips.

Junpei pulled his hips back and slammed into you abruptly. Your mouth opened in a silent scream as he set a pace for himself. His eyes were on your tits, they moved each time he moved his hips, it was almost as hypnotizing as watching his cock disappear into your body.

The pain of your hymen being torn past forgotten, your toes curled involuntarily at his cock stroking a nice spot.

“Stop, please!” Having your tongue being swollen made you sound weird like you were slurring.

“Why? Why should I?” he laughed, voice full of mischief as he lifted the camera up to your face. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Blinking past tears, you turned your face away.

He laughed louder at your reaction before asking a question, “So, how does it feel to be fucked by some loser your brother likes to bully?”

He snapped his hips forward to force a moan out of your pretty lips. Junpei mercilessly humped your pussy, forcing your walls to take the shape of his cock. “Does it feel good?”

You sobbed loudly. “No-”

He cut you off by pounding into your pussy, forcing another moan out of you. “Come ooon, say it feels good!”

“No,” you cried.

“Say it feels good!” he yelled into your face.

“It feels so good!” you croaked in fear, sobbing uncontrollably.

Junpei stilled only for a moment, he stared at you in admiration and used one hand to push your leg to your chest. He buried his cock deeper inside of you, quickening his pace and fucking you frantically, putting his entire weight behind each thrust.

Your walls clenched around his cock and almost immediately he came inside the condom, dropping the camera from the way his orgasm took over his senses, leaving him trembling.

You didn’t remember him pulling out of you nor did you remember him unlocking the anklet but there was a phone being held up to your face now.

It was… your phone.

“Hellooooo?”

A familiar voice was laughing.

At that exact moment, you felt furious, rage filled all of your senses and you wished he was right in front of you so you could stab him with a knife, rake the blade repeatedly along his neck and let him die bleeding.

What you felt wasn’t only rage and anger but murderous intent. You wanted to kill, something you never thought you would feel like you would lust after at any point of your life.

“(name)? What’s up? How are the hot springs with your friends? Ya having fun?”

Junpei was smiling as your face contorted into something vile.

You pressed your lips together and spoke through your teeth to sound clear. “You pathetic piece of shit.”

It got quiet before your brother’s tone softened. “Did something happen?”

“I wanted to believe that there was good inside of you but I guess I was wrong.” Your voice was clear and understandable but your entire body was buzzing with hot tremors of rage. “You’re a fucking disgrace, I hope you die. Die, die die! Kill yourself before I kill you myself, you hear me?!”

“(name)?” His voice wavered as if he was ashamed. How cute, he was already feeling guilty. “I don’t know what happened but you can always talk to me if your friends are causing you a problem-”

“The problem is you! Die! Die! Die! I want nothing from a pathetic excuse of a brother like you! The problem has always been you, I will never forgive you not until I watch you die miserably, not until I watch you get lowered in your grave!”

You were panting by the time you were done.

“Where are you?” he asked hesitantly. “I’ll come to get you right now, it doesn’t matter how far away you are.”

“I don’t wanna talk to him anymore, get the phone out of my face.”

“Is there someone with you?” your brother quickly changed his tone to sound more masculine. “Tell them to give me your address.”

Junpei leaned forward to speak to the phone with a sinister smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll call her a taxi in the morning.”

Silence.

A gasp.

“Jun?”

“Yeah?” Junpei couldn’t hide the smile in his voice.

“I’m going to kill you,” he hissed. “Whatever you did to her, I’ll do it to you-”

“Oh, I did everything you did to me to her. Don’t worry about that.”

“I… I am going to beat you to death.”

“Alright, I’ll post your sister’s sex tape now then. It has her face and everything. She even says her name and age, how gullible is that?”

It took your dumb brother a long moment to realize how he had been chased into a corner.

“But I bet he doesn’t care, right, (name)?” Junpei was laughing hysterically. You didn’t answer. “He’s so selfish after all!”

“What do you want?”

He had finally won.

Junpei sighed dreamily before he answered honestly with his eyes landing on you.

"I already got what I wanted."

~~~

Living a life without the fear of being constantly battered by a bunch of losers was nice. It was quiet and peaceful, as expected.

Junpei was happy. He had even gotten himself a girlfriend. Someone gullible and weak.

The revenge was sweet, being the victor of a fight for power made him more confident and less of an outcast.

#junpei x reader #junpei yoshino x reader #i know the ending sucked ass but yeahhhhh #i know this whole fic sucked but yeahhhhhhhh i was just very blinded by the NEED to write something like this idk man #pls it's 5 am rn and i think i will delete this i feel so bad now lol #anywayy my existence is cringe why am i ashamed this much lmao #ahhh right... i tag stuff now and ppl will see.#ahhh yesss my editor is asleep and couldn't tell me what to do with this fic #they usually tell me to post or not post shit not exactly edit my fics lol #i feel like they'd tell me to not post this like da rest of the fics lol #i get talkative when i'm sleepy and nervous #maybe i should stop writing plots???#idk man.#ahh btw pls don't hate me but yeah... i'm gonna sleep now so i won't answer anyone #when will i wake up again? who knows... (7 am sharp cuz i need to work)#thanks for reading if you did and pls leave a comment <3

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dclsbaby · 3 years

Text

Let You Go - Dominic Calvert-Lewin (One Shot) 🦋

Summary: You leave Dom without warning after his mum expresses her disapproval of you and he tries to get you to come home with him. (Massive thanks to @dee192 for requesting this, I changed it up a tiny bit but I hope you’ll still like it) 🤍 x

Warnings: painful pain angsty angst

Word Count: 2.1k

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“She doesn’t want to see you,” you could hear your friend say. “Please, let me just talk to her, fuck, let me just see her!” Dom begs.

“There’s not much I can do Dom, please you have to understand. Seeing you right now isn’t what she wants, or needs!” your friend replies. “What does she not want? Me? She doesn’t want me anymore?” he asks. “I—I don’t,” your friend sighs, not knowing what to say. “That’s right you can’t answer me, so let me fucking see her,” Dom pleads.

“I need answers! Let me fucking in!” his voice getting louder and louder, your friend unable to contain him for much longer.

You rested your head behind the door, trying to listen in on their conversation. Your emotions were all over the place, you so badly wanted to run up to him, tell him that of course you want him, but your relationship just wasn’t on the cards.

Words of “I’ve seen the likes of you before”, “you will never be enough for him” and “you are just another gold digger trying to rob him of all his money” said by his mother play through your mind over and over. And he doesn’t even know it.

Barely half an hour since that painful conversation, you swiftly packed all your things into two full suitcases and left your shared home to take shelter at your friend’s home.

You wiped the house clean of your things with except for a post-it that says,

I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.

You deserve someone better.

Please just trust me and let me go.

The paper wasn’t big enough to write an explanation, and you weren’t planning to give him one anyway.

Since then, it’s been two weeks of complete silence from your end.

Now, he’s standing in your friend’s driveway, arguing with her after getting a tip from a friend of his on your whereabouts.

***

You are desperate to see him, even for a split second. You needed to see him, just once more, to forever remind yourself of the contours of his face you used to trace with your fingertips, the full lips you sorely miss, and the comfort of his arms you so painfully want to be wrapped in. To remind yourself of your one true love, that no other man after him could ever live up to.

Giving into your impulses, you step behind the window to catch a glimpse of him. One peek was all it took for his head to shoot up to where you stood, as if his senses activated the second you were in sight.

You’ve been seen.

You felt your body freeze, before making a run for the stairs to hide yourself from him.

“(Y/N)...” he whispered. “(Y/N)—No, don’t run away from me!” Dom chases after you. Of course, he beats you to it and grabs your arm, making it impossible to reach the top of the stairs. Reminder to never even be bothered to run away from a professional athlete ever again. There’s no point.

“Don’t fucking run away from me for fuck’s sake!” he yells at you. Catching up to you within milliseconds.

“What the fuck do you want, Dom?” pulling your arm out his grasp, your hostility surprising Dom. You take a step, hovering above him. “What the fuck do I want? I want you to fucking come home! I want you to talk to me so we can work this out like fucking adults!”

“I don’t want to fucking talk to you, I made that very clear,” you tell him. “You left without an explanation, (Y/N)! You honestly think that I deserved that? That I deserved to come home to an empty house, to find the love of my life gone, and a stupid piece of paper telling me that you’ve left? Fuck off,” Dom shakes his head in anger.

“You just have to trust me, please, just leave,” you plead. “I am not fucking leaving until you give me answers.”

“Did you cheat on me?” Dom’s voice barely made it out. “Cheat on you? Of course I didn’t, how, how could you even think that?” taken aback at his question. “I don’t know, maybe you’ve been playing a game this whole time,” his voice gets louder with every syllable.

“A game? You think I’m enjoying this? Fine, the fucking truth is, I am split in two, Dom. I left half of my heart with you in that house that I no longer can function. You haven’t seen what I’ve been like over the past couple of weeks, so you don’t get to accuse me of playing a game,” you retaliate.

“You haven’t seen what I’ve been like!” upset at what you said. “You left for no reason! You barely gave me an explanation! I am so in over my head that I’ve been shit at training, shit at games, I’ve had the entire Goodison yell profanities at me when I got taken off, I’ve disappointed everyone because my mind, my heart, and my fucking soul is set on you!” Dom angrily lets out his thoughts.

“So it’s my fault? Great, another thing that I should take blame for,” you chuckle sarcastically, feeling overwhelmed. “Cheers Dom, nice talk, have a great night,” you proceed to walk up the stairs before Dom pulls you back down.

“I’m not fucking done with you,” he says sternly. “We are working this out now,” gesturing to the floor.

“Fine, not here, you’ll wake the entire neighbourhood up,” you continue your way up the stairs and into your friend’s guest bedroom, with Dom trailing behind you. Dom nearly shudders at the sight of the room, unhappy that you’ve made it into a home with everything so tidy, so in place, so cosy. He briefly wonders if you’ll ever come back.

***

The second the door was shut, you and Dom went back to arguing. And he wasted no time.

“You shut me out for weeks! You packed up your bags and left while I was at training, you don’t pick up my calls, you ignore my texts, you hide out at your friend’s place while we have our own home, you left me with nothing except for that stupid post-it!” he pants. “How the fuck do you think that made me feel? You’ve put our entire relationship in a small piece of fucking paper,” he looks away for a moment. “You couldn’t even say goodbye.”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye to you? Did it ever occur to you that if you ever tried to stop me I would’ve stayed and been with you even though I know it wouldn’t work?” you raise your voice.

“How would you fucking know that it wouldn’t work? You barely gave us a chance to work it out, you just left!” his arms flail in frustration. “I don’t even know what we’re meant to work out, why you even left!”

Silence fills the air before Dom shifts closer to you.

“Why did you leave me?” Dom softly asks, barely making eye contact. You let out a deep breath at his question.

“You don’t get it Dom, you just don’t,” you look onto the floor. “What is it that I don’t get? Tell me, please,” Dom begs.

You’ve been cornered and there is no escape.

“Your mother hates me, and there’s nothing I can do about it,” shaking your head. “My mother? What?” Dom pulls back and sits up straight.

“We had a conversation,” you’re finally about to speak your truth. Dom’s head shot up, confused.

“You weren’t home, she came over and sat me down,” you pause, pressing your lips together, bracing yourself for what’s about to come out of your mouth. “Your mum told me that I am a gold digger, that I’m with you for the money and the fame,” you can feel tears pooling in your eyes. “Wh—what?” Dom takes a sharp inhale in shock. “She sees her as her own daughter and I can’t live up to that,” you refer to his ex.

Dom looks up to the ceiling in disbelief. “Your mom told me she knew I couldn’t make a living for myself with the job that I have, and accused me of preying on you to be set for life,” a tear rolled down your eye to which you quickly wiped. “I—” “And she’s right, in a way,” you look up at him, cutting him off. “You bought us a house, you built us a home, you provide me with comfort, you give me security,” you pause for a moment. “You gave me everything, whilst I gave you nothing.”

Dom stays silent knowing there’s more. And he’s right. “But even if you didn’t have all of those things, even if you barely have a penny in your pocket, I’d still be in love with you. If everything we have, if everything you have would be taken away from you right this second, I’d still be in love with you,” you place a hand on his right cheek, and notice that his eyes have turned bloodshot red.

“But I also can’t handle disapproval. If your mother thinks that you’re better off without me, as much as it kills me,” you begin to cry. “I—I have to respect that,” your voice breaking. “I just want you to be happy, even if that means I’d have to let you go.

Dom pulls you into his arms, holding you, embracing you, harder than ever before.

“I don’t care what my mother thinks, I am in love with you and only you,” Dom assures you whilst trying to process what you said. “You have given me more than I could ever offer. You’ve shown me that I am a man who deserves to be loved. You’ve filled me in with so much love my heart could burst at any given time. You’ve given me more reasons to live and give my all in this world. That is more than anything I could give you.”

“You deserve someone else,” your voice breaks. “I deserve you. I have no interest in reliving my past or even have anyone from my past be a part of my life today, because you are my life,” he says, staring into your eyes hoping you believe him.

You look up to him in shock and relief at the same time, if that’s even possible.

“I love you too much,” he says, holding your face in his hands. “I would marry you right fucking now if I could, I would get eloped with you right now and run away from the world. Just the two of us,” Dom tells you. “We don’t need anyone’s blessing. I don’t care for it,” he confesses. “I just want you.”

“We can’t be together Dom, your mum—” “—I don’t care what she thinks. I am grown enough to know what’s meant for me and what isn’t. She was massively out of line and shouldn’t have made such a despicable accusation,” he says, pissed off.

“Don’t say that, she’s your mother,” you try to calm him down. “I get that, but she’s almost cost me the love of my life, and if I lost you I can’t ever forgive her for that,” he whispers. “We’ll go through this together, you have to believe me when I say that I’m not letting anyone get in the way of us,” he tries to convince you. “You should’ve known that I would do anything to protect what we have.”

“I didn’t want to put you in a position where you had to choose,” you say to him. “I understand, but that isn’t your choice to make baby,” Dom says.

“I love you, (Y/N). No one and nothing can get in the way of that, ever, you have to believe me, please,” Dom begs. “I love you,” you say it back.

Dom puts a hand behind your neck, pulling you close before planting a hard kiss on your tear-stained lips. The kiss was desperate, full of longing, desire, and rage all in one.

It was a kiss that almost went too far, but there was something else you both needed to do.

You broke off the kiss and pulled away from him.

“Come home with me? Please?” Dom asks, hoping you’d come back home and never leave again.

“Only if you help me pack,” you tease. Dom’s face brightens up, dimples on either of his cheeks, his nose scrunching in excitement.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he says, a peck on the lips after every ‘I love you’.

You both stood up, ready to make a mess out of your friend’s guest bedroom.

Dom places his hands on your hips tugging them closer to his, before leaning into your face. “Don’t ever leave me again,” he pleads.

“Never.”

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagines #football imagine #footballer imagine #football blurb #football fanfiction

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years

Text

I Carry Your Heart With Me (Prologue)

Summary: When your college roommate asks you to be a bridesmaid at her wedding, you pack your bags and jump on a flight to Montana. What was supposed to be a relaxing week on the husband-to-be’s ranch is turned upside down when an old flame decides to make an appearance. Mix in lingering feelings, a meddling bride, and the mother of all misunderstandings, and your week out west turns out to be a whole lot more than you bargained for.

series masterlist

playlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex

Word Count: 2.5k

Spencer gets the email on a Tuesday.

He’s fresh off of a quick trip to a nearby café that sells the most delectable scones, and he’s eagerly unwrapping one and lifting it to his mouth when he gets the notification. The quiet ping is enough to make him pause with the scone midway to its destination.

Because the thing is, Spencer Reid doesn’t get a lot of emails. In fact, there are approximately ten people that even know his email address, and seven of them are currently in the same room as him. Spencer peers over the top of his monitor and scans the room. No one is doing anything indicative of having sent Spencer yet another prank email (thanks a lot, Luke), so he deems it safe and clicks on the email icon.

As it boots up, Spencer takes a bite of his scone. The warm, sugary dough tastes like heaven in his mouth, once again proving to Spencer that the fifteen-minute walk there is more than worth his time. He’s mid-swallow when his inbox pops up on the screen, and when he sees the all too familiar name on the sender’s address, he inhales a sharp breath that leaves him choking on his pastry.

Mr. and Mrs. Charles Melville

Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Sewell

Joyfully request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of their children

Cassidy and Mason

Saturday, the twenty-seventh of May

Two thousand nine-teen

His choking fit garners the attention of every one of his colleagues, but Spencer can’t bring himself to care. All he can focus on is sucking in as much air as possible in between coughs. It doesn’t help that his oxygen deprived brain is currently reeling. Long suppressed memories are fighting their way to the surface, and now it’s not only his lungs that are engulfed in a searing heat, but his heart, too.

Cassidy Sewell. A fiery, opinionated redhead that Spencer hasn’t thought of in nearly fifteen years. But Cassidy isn’t the reason that he feels like a knife has been thrust into his ribcage, nor is she the reason he is currently aspirating his scone. The basis of his distress is another woman entirely.

Spencer eventually regains control of his windpipe and when he does, he rereads the email several times. It’s wonderful news - really, it is. And he’s happy for Cassidy. His memories of her are plentiful and he thinks back on them fondly. The only problem is that he knows wherever Cassidy is, you’ll be there, too.

He really should just delete the email and go on about his business - that would be the smart thing to do. But Spencer’s never really been smart when it comes to you, so he does the worst thing possible and clicks on the ‘view recipients’ button.

And sure enough, your name falls just above his on the list.

Which brings up another issue entirely; why is he receiving this email? And, more importantly, do you know that he’s been invited? Spencer can only come up with two possible answers to that question, and both are equally heartbreaking. Either you know he’s been invited and you’re indifferent to the fact, or you haven’t a clue and his showing up would be entirely inappropriate.

He briefly entertains the possibility of a third option; one in which you knew he’d received an invitation and were hopeful that he might show up. Spencer allows this possibility to live in his mind for approximately two seconds before he’s stomping it out and killing it. That’s just… unlikely.

“Ooh! Who’s getting married?”

Spencer quickly exits out of his email and spins around in his chair to find Penelope pouting her lip out at him.

“No one. Just a spam email,” Spencer lies. His efforts are in vain, however, because Penelope fixes him with an unimpressed glare.

“I’m going to save you and I both the trouble of me hacking into your computer and offer you the opportunity to try that again.”

Spencer visibly deflates and mentally curses the creators of the interconnected computer networks. He weighs his options. He could be completely honest and be subjected Penelope’s endearing, yet suffocating enthusiasm, or he could skim a little bit off the top and hope she doesn’t pump him for information.

Spencer decides on the latter.

“An old friend.”

Penelope narrows her eyes at him and he shrinks under her gaze. She might not be a profiler, but she damn sure could be.

“Then why do you look like you’re about to hurl?”

“No reason.”

They’ve reached a stalemate, and Spencer isn’t quite sure what to do with that. Usually, if this were a chest match, Spencer would already have the upper hand. He’s not used to being backed into a corner. At first, Spencer’s sure that he can outlast Penelope’s inquisition, but the longer those seemingly omniscient eyes of hers bore into his own, he can feel his resolve crumbling into nothing. All it takes is her lifting one perfectly plucked eyebrow in challenge for him to break.

“An ex-girlfriend of mine will be in attendance.”

Spencer knows he’s fucked from the way Penelope’s entire face lights up upon hearing that little tidbit of information. In a flash Penelope’s dragging over an empty chair and seating herself directly in front of Spencer, eyes shining excitedly.

“Tell me everything.”

So, he does.

And an hour later, Penelope is booking him a flight to Montana.

“I cannot believe you did this to me,” you murmur into the receiver as you stare at your computer screen. Your eyes are zeroed in on the email, but all the words are blurring together into an intelligible mess. All except two.

Spencer Reid

“Correction; I did this for you,” Cassidy replies, sounding awfully pleased with herself. If you could see her, you were certain she’d be grinning ear to ear. “You can’t tell me that you’re not the least bit excited at the possibility of seeing him again.”

“That is exactly what I’m telling you!” you groan as you throw your head against the back of your chair. “Fifteen years is a long time, Cass. I’ve moved on, and I’m sure he has, too. That door is closed.”

Cassidy snorts, “Well open that sucker back up, because I just got an RSVP from one Doctor Spencer Reid who, and I quote, ‘cannot wait to see everyone.’ This RSVP came without a plus one, might I add.”

You jolt up in your seat and instantly regret it when your stomach churns painfully as a result. Suddenly, your decision to place your waste basket on the opposite side of the room seems awfully ill advised. The only thing keeping you from lunging for it and expelling the contents of your stomach is the fact that he isn’t bringing anyone with him, which is… something.

“He’s coming?” you squeak out. “Why would he do that?”

Another laugh from Cassidy floats out through the speaker.

“Well, I’d like to think he might be going to see one of his oldest and dearest friends get married, but I think we both know that this has nothing to do with me, and a whole lot to do with you.”

You’re just about to open your mouth to protest when a head of long, blonde hair peeks through the crack of your door. You only know one man with a head of hair like that, and that man just so happens to be the only other person in your life that lives for taking the piss at your expense. You can’t help but think that you must’ve done something terrible in a past life to be subjected to all of this before noon on a Tuesday morning.

You wave Damien in, because why the hell not? He’d be hearing about it over one or several bottles of wine this evening, anyways. What was one more spectator to the worst moment of your entire adult life?

As he takes his seat in a chair in front of your desk, you flash him a tight smile and turn your attention back to Cassidy.

“You’re reading way too much into this. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“You know that boy does not forget anything,” Cassidy points out.

Yeah, you think, and that’s what makes not hearing from him for fifteen years even worse. That means the radio silence was a choice.

“Doesn’t matter. You need to uninvite him. I’m being so serious right now.”

“I absolutely will not. That’d be terribly rude of me,” Cassidy sniffs. “And you obviously have no choice but to attend, Miss Maid of Honor, so consider this your warning. I was going to keep this a secret, but Mason said that would be cruel. So.”

You want to argue that the entire thing is cruel, but Cassidy’s indifference to your plight leads you to believe that your protest would fall on deaf ears. To make matters worse, Damien looks positively delighted at the prospect of something exciting happening. He’s literally sitting on the edge of his seat, leaning forward in an attempt to hear Cassidy’s end of the conversation.

You really needed to pick more sympathetic friends.

“I’m going to hang up now, because I physically cannot handle being a part of this conversation any longer.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cassidy trills. “Trust me, you’re going to thank me for this later. Oh, and do yourself a favor and Google search him. You will not be disappointed!”

At that, the line goes dead. You don’t even have the chance to say something embarrassing like too late, I already do that like twice a year, which is probably a good thing.

You slam down the phone and let your head fall into your hands, adding in a dramatic groan for good measure. Usually, you like to think you’re a little more level headed, but the Spencer Reid sized hole in your heart that you’d been trying to mend for the last decade and a half was just ripped wide open, so you figure you deserve a moment to panic.

Damien, however, doesn’t share that same belief.

“I get that you’re trying to have a moment, and I respect that, but you know how impatient I get and I haven’t seen you this upset since One Direction split up. Color me intrigued. What did dear Cassidy do to get your knickers in such a twist?”

You lift your head and fix him with a withering look.

“She invited Spencer.”

That wipes the smile right off of Damien’s face.

“Oh, fuck,” Damien swears. Finally, someone understands how extremely not okay this situation is. You let out another despairing groan. “What are the chances he’s actually going to show up?”

You chuckle bitterly, “Pretty fucking high, if you consider the fact that he already RSVP’d any indication.” You push away from your desk and begin to pace around the room, all while fanning your shirt out because holy hell did it get hot in here, or is it just you? “I mean, I could always back out. It’s Cassidy’s fault anyways. It’s not like she could hold that against me. She’s the one who did this, after all.”

“Oh, she most certainly would. And you’re not going to going to skip out on the wedding - quit being so dramatic.”

You snap your head to where he sits and narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, I’m not? Who’s gonna stop me?” you challenge.

You can practically see the light bulb go on inside that blonde head of his. Damien gives you a saccharine smile and claps his hands together.

“I am. Because I’m going to go with you,” he announces excitedly. You’d think he just came up with a way to end world hunger from the pride that’s practically radiating off of him in waves.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You’re going to come with me? To Montana? Have you ever even been outside of New York?”

Damien shrugs his shoulders.

“No, but that’s about to change. Plus, weddings are fun,” Damien pauses, before tacking on, “-bridesmaids are fun.”

If he weren’t such a damn good friend, you’d throw him out of your office.

His proposition was tempting. Being in close proximity with Spencer for almost an entire week was going to be harrowing as it was, but add to that the inevitable sight of Spencer in a suit and harrowing graduates to fucking excruciating. Having Damien in your corner to keep you sane was more of a necessity than a want.

But still, you hesitate, because the idea of both Cassidy and Damien conspiring against you for an entire week sounds like the undiscovered tenth circle of hell.

Damien apparently senses your apprehension. He lets out an exasperated sigh and pushes up from his seat, walking over to where you stand and placing his hands on your shoulders.

“I solemnly swear to be on my best behavior. You have my permission to fire me if I act up, Boss Lady.”

Your shoulders slump under the weight of his hands.

“You know I can’t fire you,” you grumble, pouting out your lip for dramatic effect. “If I fire you, then I’m stuck with fucking Brenda. And I doubt she’d be as agreeable a drinking partner as you.”

Damien lets out a loud laugh and pulls you into his arms. You melt into his embrace, sighing in resignation. Might as well bring him along for the ride. It’s not like the situation could get any worse than it already is, right?

“Brenda is the worst,” Damien agrees as he places a kiss to the top of your head. After basking in his warm embrace for several moments, you pull away and run a hand through your hair.

“Okay. Okay,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Damien. “I can do this. Worst comes to worst; I can just avoid him. Five days isn’t that long. I can do five days.”

Damien leans up against your desk and nods in agreeance.

“Exactly. Five days, in and out – no big deal,” he breezes. Like the absolute bastard he is, he waits until you’re taking a sip from your travel mug before continuing. “And who knows? Maybe the two of you will pick up where you left off and have some slutty wedding sex.”

Now, there’s coffee all over your white blouse and Damien’s laughing obnoxiously at your expense.

“You did not just quote One Tree Hill at me,” you choke out between ragged breaths.

Damien doesn’t waver under the weight of your death glare.

“I so did. Best show of our time, truly. Chase hit the nail on the head with that one. Weddings are always an absolute bone fest - trust me. Something about all the proclamations of love and eternal commitment gets everyone all hot and bothered.”

“There will be no slutty wedding sex,” you mutter as you dab at the coffee stain.

“There will be if I’m going,” Damien trills as he pushes off of your desk and saunters to the door. “Don’t rule it out, babe. No need to miss out on all the fun!”

You roll your eyes and toss the wadded-up paper towel at him. Damien is quick to shut the door, resulting in the paper towel hitting it with a wet plop.

Damien’s absence leaves the room uncomfortably silent, save for the sound of your heart nearly beating out of your chest. You hesitantly lift your eyes back to your computer screen, and as irrational as it is, you pray that you’ll see that something has changed in the past ten minutes. Unsurprisingly, his name is still there, just below your own.

You silently curse the tiny twinge of excitement you feel from seeing his name and exit out of the email.

Five days, in and out. No big deal.

taglist: @is-this-even-important @evelyncade @usuck @m0rce1ddd @bauhousewife @whxt-to-write @spencerwaltergubler @lovesicksofi @idgafayiowf @shadyladyperfection @mercy-burning @sapphic-prentiss

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whitehotharlots · 3 years

Text

A true story about rehab from 2007

Names and places changed, dates slightly fuzzy, yada yada

This all starts with Chris. Chris might be a good example of how things are objectively broken.

Two summers ago, Chris and his girlfriend moved from everyone's old hometown, Alton, to everyone's current home, Garden City. I had known Chris briefly when I still lived in Alton, which was up until about 8 years ago. In high school he was friends with my sister, a year behind her, I think, only he had some legal trouble and didn't graduate until two years after her. The first arrest came during his junior year, when police found some marijuana in his car while he was in class. "Apparently Alton is a utopia," he said years later. "No robberies need solving, no cars need ticketing, no fences need mending, fuckit nobody's house must've been dirty because if there was anything else even remotely worthwhile that those cocksuckers could have been doing they wouldn't have taken a drug dog through the high school parking lot."

The ironic part was that he was, honest-to-god, holding it for a friend. Hadn't touched the stuff until then, hadn't even drank more than a beer or two. Cops came in and pulled him out of class. Cuffed him right there in class, in front of everybody. From what I've been able to piece together that marked a very strong loss of innocence for young Chris. No rules were worth following, after all, if The Bastards could punish you for nothing. This was greatly exacerbated by the fact that, according to several of the best lawyers Alton had to offer, the search of Chris' car was unconstitutional as it was not actually parked in the school parking lot, or even on school grounds, at the time of the search. The juvenile court judge would hear none of it though—all the police had done was break Chris' constitutional right to privacy. He had committed the much greater crime of having an eighth ounce of marijuana in his glove compartment.

His claim of having his rights violated incensed the judge, who sentenced our poor Chris to 72 hours in county jail and 12 weeks of rehab. Were it not for his successful, stable family, he would have been sent to juvie.

It was his first offense. He was 16.

Jail, he said, wasn't that bad. He got to do it over a weekend. The guard was an old lady and even though she was kind of a bitch she let him bring in his homework. She said she was surprised to see someone his age in here, with the adults, but whatever he had done it must have been pretty bad or else he wouldn't be here, would he? They kept him away from the drunks at night and the only other people who came into the "pen" (his word, not mine) were guys who got bailed out within a couple of hours and were too pissed off about their own bad luck to give him any shit for his.

What really fucked with him was rehab. It didn’t matter that he'd never smoked a single joint (or even a cigarette) at this time: he was an addict and by gum he had to admit to being an addict before the obese, shit-smelling overseer would sign the form saying that Chris had attended his sessions. Every weekend for three months he was legally forced to lie. Yes, he said, he was an addict. Yes, even though it made no sense in any grammatical or even symbolic context, he was forced to say "my name is Chris and I'm a narcotic." His personal habits were picked apart—why was his hair so long (it wasn't that long, really)? Why did he wear the same pants on Sunday that he wore on Saturday? Who were these "Dead Milkmen" that his T-shirt spoke of? Ohh… and surely this is a good-tempered, Christian punk band, right? No? Well you see right there that's a part of the problem. Have your mother sign a note saying you've thrown out all of their CDs and any other enabling you might own. No—you can't sell them, you must throw them out.

"We had to go in a day and a half every weekend. All day Saturday and then Sunday from noon until 4. It took me five weeks, when I was starting to get comfortable, before I asked if I could come in Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday. It worked out better for me that way, since the place where I worked wasn't open Sundays. The fat guy just opened his mouth and would not close it. 'When would you go to church?' he said. By then I knew enough to laugh and say 'oh yeah what was I thinking.'"

A few of the people had actual problems. One guy got caught with meth, was beating the shit out of his wife and his two little girls, and seemed genuinely remorseful. Another guy had to drink a sixer every morning or else he'd get the shakes so bad he wouldn't be able to drive to work. But most of the people there were more or less normal and had either fucked up once or else been fucked over once—got into a bar fight while legally drunk, blew .02 over the legal limit at a roadblock, smoked pot once every few weeks and got narced on by a snitch, that kind of stuff. These people were split over how much they believed the bullshit they were being fed. Those who believed, as the official literature did, that being hungover once in your lifetime or ever drinking more than 4 beers in a sitting two or more times in a month are both signs of hardcore alcoholism, they became repentant and preachy.

One such lady was a thin, tan, well-dressed soccer mom who would snitch on the others when they didn't pay close enough attention to the instructional videos or else would appear in any way to not be taking things seriously enough. If you were bad you got demerits, credit card-sized pieces of construction paper upon which frowny faces and intimidating biblical verses were printed. The overseer would also scribble something down in his notebook, which must have had some kind of official weight because it was on his person at all times.

Most people have an innate desire, however illogical it might often be, to please authority figures, and so Chris and the rest of the doubtful "addicts" thought the embarrassment of getting their reprimand literally handed to them was punishment enough for resting their eyes or letting a stray giggle break loose when the acting in an informational film was especially bad. Chris made only one such mistake. During a lecture, the overseer kept making the point that it wasn't the drugs that people get addicted to—oh no, it's the high that keeps you coming back. Chris smiled—remember at this point he still probably hadn't ever been high, not in his whole life—because it seemed like such a stupid, nonsensical thing to say, because even though he was only 16 he could appreciate moments like this, when the moronic essence of a big, scary process could concentrate itself into a single sentence.

"It's not the drugs: it's the high," the man said. He was very clean shaven, dressed like a detective in a 70s cop show, his hair was combed so straight it was like wire, his glasses were round and cruel looking and he had this, this look on his face, this air about him like he thought he was a genius. He nodded a little bit after the repetition of his idiotic point. Proud—he was actually proud of the things he was saying, proud of his position, proud of getting to fill the heads of desperate or else unfortunate people with nonsense. And this made Chris smile—not laugh, just smile, and the soccer mom pulled on his ear really hard, so hard it made his eyes water, and then she raised her hand to snitch on him. The proud overseer was still proud, looked like a king in an old movie, and with the most serious air Chris had ever seen, the fat man called him up before the entire room. His eyes were still watery from the shock of having his ear nearly yanked up and so he looked down, towards the ground, so people wouldn't think he was crying.

"You ashamed of something," the fat overseer asked. Chris didn't say anything. "Look up," said the overseer. Chris kept looking down. His chest moved in and out heavily and his fists were clenched, and he wasn't sure but he may have been crying normal tears by this point, but they were out of rage, not sadness. Or—no…really what's the difference between those two, and it's impossible that the immense hopelessness of his situation and the utter retardation of his surroundings hadn't saddened somewhat. If it were just rage making him cry then he would have also lashed out, punched the overseer or at least called him a name. No. No, the hopelessness must have stung enough to make him sad. But his tears were out of rage primarily, and out of nothing even close to shame.

"Look up. Now."

He did. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were tightened into red little slits but he looked more defeated than mean, more helpless than threatening.

"I want you all to look at this face. Soak it up. Take it all in. Done? Give you another second. Okay, now you're done. This, people, is what failure looks like. Some of you will see it again, right here. This is what it looks like when you don't take yourself seriously, when you don't care enough about yourself to appreciate the chances that are being given to you."

He extended a demerit card towards the Chris’ face. It was accepted without a whimper.

Weeks later, it came time for Chris and the gang to "graduate" from their classes. By this point, Chris had gotten drunk several times (even puked, once) and tried to smoke pot a few times but it hadn't done anything to him. Maybe he was just too drunk to feel it or he wasn't inhaling right, who knows. Anyhow he figured a few bong hits wouldn't hurt before he had to show up to the ceremony, right, since he hadn't felt anything yet. And, man, it was a blast because he was high as a fucking kite at the graduation, must have shoved 20 inches worth of the party sub into his mouth and downed at least 7 flutes of sparkling grape juice.

His mother and stepfather—both stinking rich, by the way, disheartened by the lad's sudden fall from grace and more than a little pleased to see him making such a fast and exemplary recovery with the aid of such a caring and competent program—were dressed to the nines. His mom was making time with the addicts. This was her wont, the irresistible, flirty friendliness that drove her from the dregs of society (Chris' biological father) all the way to where she was today. While this was going on, Stepfather gracefully let loose to the riffraff around him all those little signs that showed that he was a kind man, but of great consequence. He'd talk about sports while stretching him arm just so, just far enough to let his fancy watch fall into view. He'd offer to lift heavy objects as an excuse to show off his bed-made tan, his gym-toned arms and back. All of your jokes made him smile, but only just long enough for you to get a glimpse of his perfectly straight, snow white teeth. Both of them kept making their way over to Chris, who had stationed himself near the concessions table, to whisper into his ear how proud they were of him for pulling himself around and hint bluntly at him still receiving for his birthday a new car. All the while, through this bleary, more-or-less with it haze, feeling content and calm with his surroundings and his high, Chris kept thinking about how much he had it made. Everyone was a sucker, it seemed, but him. Really, wow. Everyone is stupid but me.

The soccer mom cut quickly around the room, stopping alongside each cluster of people and telling them that something important was about to happen, it was time for everyone to walk into the little classroom where they normally met. "You're not gonna want to miss this" she said, looking right into Chris with a mean little smile on her face that she knew would scare him. Oh god, Chris though, she knew that he was high. What was she in here for—ooh shit man, you've heard her talk about it 100 times. Vicodin, right. Vicodin and wine, passing out while one of her kids started a fire. That's right. Calm down. She wouldn't have known what someone looked like when he was high on pot. Mom and Stepfather couldn't even tell and they saw Chris every day. Calm down.

Chris shoved a few more bites of party sub into his mouth. His mom laughed and said "getting better must make you work up an appetite, huh?" Stepfather laughed. Chris couldn't say anything, not even by the time they had walked all the way into the classroom and sat down on little folding chairs, because there was so much sandwich in his mouth. Things began to quiet down within a couple of minutes. The overseer, smiling, poked his head out of his office and waved to the small crowd. People clapped a little bit. Chris noticed that "AWARDS RECEPTION" had been written on the blackboard with colored chalk, the letters alternating blue to red, blue to red. A stack of certificates sat on the table up front. The overseer waddled to the table and gestured towards his office and a large, black policeman walked from office to the entrance. He looked all business. There was another one who poked his head out from the office and then the overseer was still smiling, like the soccer mom he was wearing big, mean, fake smile and Chris sunk into his chair and moaned a little bit because he knew he was about to get arrested, again. Arrested in front of his parents.

Mom asked stepfather what the policemen were hear for the stepfather said—ahh the great rational bastard, it was all Chris could do to stop himself from hugging him—that since this was an official presentation, court mandated and all that, they must have some cops come and witness it. That's all it was. Nothing to get too upset about. Still—gotta stay calm. If the cops took no notice of Chris then they wouldn't take any notice of his being so incredibly fucking high.

"Well," the overseer began. Chris was hyperobservant and noncritical and he realized for the first time how long it took the overseer to get through sentences, because of all of his fat. He'd pause every few words and take in a deep breath from his gut. When he spoke it was in these bursts that were effeminately condescending but still bulky and powerful. Like, if being told you were bad by a sharp-tongued gay man didn't hurt you then maybe being yelled at by an abusive gym coach would. Only he wasn't a gym coach and probably wasn't gay, either. Talked about his wife and kids all the time. This was an act. He had measured out this persona for himself. This was some kind of cruel professionalism.

Jesus, Chris thought to himself. Pot fucks up the way you think about things. How long had it been since they sat down? How long since he'd been scared by the cops? When was the guy going to start talking—ohh, wait he's already talking. Might want to listen:

"And this is what this program is supposed to achieve: smiling faces. Not just the smiling faces of those who are on roads to recovery—their own personal roads—but of their families and their friends. The selfishness might end here. The pain they have caused you, that they are sorry for, might end here. But it's up to everyone here to make sure that all of these faces keep smiling."

He paused—too long. Wanted people to clap for him. They did. Then they finished. He continued. His tone was different. He had sounded like he was reading off a card. Now he sounded more like he normally did, during classes.

"But it would be… hypocritical of me to let everyone who came here leave here, especially… if I knew that they would be making people start… to cry sometime soon. Two of our friends will not be graduating today."

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

"The first… Rup-ERT Donwiddle."

Ahh. Okay. That guy—white guy, lots of scars—never even showed up after the first day. He wasn't even here. Chris sunk his head into his lap, like he was stretching or about to puke, while the overseer mumbled about how Rubert had squandered his chance for recovery and blah blah blah.

"Rufus failed… due to lack of initiative. He didn't come. But every time we have this course, it seems… there is someone who does come… but who shows such disrespect that he might as well not have"

The overseer's tone changed, again, abruptly but not in a way that seemed unplanned. He was talking somewhere in between the rehearsed tone he'd used earlier and the mumbling, jumbled tone he used during regular meetings. The air shifted around Chris. It felt like strategy, men moving into position in order to accomplish some kind of task or anticipate some kind of resistance. The bigger cop stood by the door that led to the outside, blocking it. Meanwhile the guys who had missed the most class and been handed the most demerits began to shift in their seats a little bit while their wives looked at them in white fear, the sterile blank walls felt like they were closing in—that's what expression actually meant, when it actually feels like the room you are in just got smaller, more oppressive—and the big fat fuck who ran the place worse the biggest fatfuck smile Chris had ever seen and he if had dropped dead of a heart attack no one with a mind or soul would have gotten up to help him. In spite of all of this, the synchronization was such that Chris couldn't work up any fear. He was too busy admiring the evil of the whole process.

Chris took to talking to the soccer mom, a few months later, as part of some revenge scheme that never quite materialized. He had first planned on sleeping with the woman and ruining her marriage. When that didn’t work out he thought about maybe figuring out the vulnerabilities of her home and passing that knowledge on to some unseemly sorts who, god willing, would have raped, robbed, and kill her. He didn't do that, though, for the same reason he didn't speak up during the meeting when the police were blocking off the door and overseer was smiling the very worst smile the world had ever seen: because the woman's evil was so immense that he could barely process it, could do little else, in fact, aside from sitting back and admiring it. What he learned from her, after she had opened up to him and filled him on all the details, was that if you didn't pass the rehab course it counted as either a violation of your parole or else as a violation of your court sentence, so your failure was akin to skipping bail trying to escape from prison. That's to say it was a Very Serious offense, one that could put you in prison for a long, long time. And what the overseer hadn't told to anybody but the soccer mom, who was his favorite, was that his policy was that out of every class there had to be at least one addict who failed to pass in spite of showing up, one person who because of this or that reason simply did not deserve to consider his or her self cured of their addiction. That's what the demerits were for. Whoever got the most failed the course. You couldn't tell the whole class about this since then the people who got the most demerits early on would have stopped coming all together. On top of that, if you got into a situation where a few weeks in one guy had racked up 20 or 30 demerits, then that more or less lightens the stakes for everyone else. They'll start mouthing off or falling asleep since they know they'll never make up enough demerits to catch the worst guy, and then by the end of it you'd have been better off not doing any sort of demerit system at all. No—no, the trick was to keep it a surprise. That had two positives: one, you catch the guy by surprise and make sure he gets what's coming to him. Two, you put the fear of god into the others who are all sitting around watching. That's when they got taught what happens if you don't respect the things you should.

All Chris knew at the time of meeting was that the balding factory worker, Hank was his name, was getting pulled up really unnecessarily roughly by the cop, had his arms thrown behind his back, and was getting cuffed and pushed out of the room while his teenage daughter was screaming in abject terror and his wife was burying her head in her hands and then the two women sat there while the smiling overseer berated Hank, talked about how he needed to learn how to accept help and how this was for the good of him and his family and You two ladies should stop crying, it's pointless, what you need right now is strength, loyalty, and conviction. Hank had blown .02 over the legal limit at a road block. He insisted he hadn't had a drop to drink in months, not since his first DUI, that he couldn't perform the heel-to-toe sobriety test successfully because of a fully documented injury he had sustained during Desert Storm and that the alcohol on his breath—which came up on only one of the 5 breathalyzers he was given—must have been from gum or mouthwash or cologne or something. His parole was zero tolerance, though, and so he found himself at the meetings. Every week he told the overseer that something he had said was bullshit. He wouldn't say "My name is Hank and I'm a narcotic," he said, because that is just fucking stupid. He wouldn't apologize for hurting anybody because he hadn't hurt anybody. He wouldn't lie for the sake of lying because goddamn it that's not what this country is about.

And for that he went to prison.

Coming face-to-face with the reality of just how cruel and unfair the system is can, especially for a teenager, lead to a distrust so strong and all encompassing that it borders on despair. This distrust can, sometimes, be healthy and inspire you to try and change things. More often, it can grow into full-blown hatred, a maniacal desire to change things or to right wrongs that leads you to do something rash or destructive. Still more often, it leads to a sense of defeatism, a feeling that you can't win since the system is so fucked so why the hell should you even try. At least, that's what I gather from hearing Chris talk about it. That's probably what I would have done if something like that would have happened to me. I would have given up and failed.

And for the longest time Chris had given up and had failed. He drank and drugged and destroyed. This made him a blast to hang out with. This was when he still lived in Alton and I would see him once every few months, when I was at home visiting my family. My sister moved to Garden City to attend the university at which I now teach. Most of her friends soon followed suit. He was left behind. As I am self-absorbed to the point where I don't care about my friend's lives except for when their stories are particularly miserable or amusing, I don't know much about this time period except that it saw Chris turning things somewhat around. Not by much. He still drinks far too much. But he's in school now—he's at the school where I teach, actually, although I've never had him for a student.

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cellard0ors · 3 years

Text

Fic: Movement (2/?)

Still dedicated to the wonderful @peachworthy. you read part one than you know - GMM Rhink AU - College Student Link/Pornstar Rhett AU

“Got it right again, man! You’re going to ace this test!” Rhett crows as he tosses down another notecard and Link pumps his arms in triumph. The two of them are settled in the kitchen, piles of books and notecards spread around as well as few bottles of beers and some bowls of chips.

Link picks up one chip and pops it into his mouth, grinning at his roommate fondly, “Well, couldn’t’ve done it without you, pal. You are, without a doubt, the best study buddy I’ve ever had.”

“Aw shucks, gonna make me blush,” Rhett laughs even though it’s Link who feels his cheeks actually grow warm, his friend’s laughter a common cause of the occurrence.

They’ve been living together for over a month now and it’s been beyond amazing. Link would’ve never guessed a guy like Rhett and a guy like him would work so well together.

It’s like they’re the world’s weirdest, most convoluted puzzle yet all the pieces click together to form a full picture that is nothing short of a masterpiece. True, there’s a lot about Rhett Link doesn’t know yet (and gosh is there a lot he wants to know) but their friendship is running smoothly.

Well, smoothly save for the massive crush Link has on the guy, albeit he’s doing his damned best to squash it. Yes, Rhett’s attractive and yes, he’s the first guy Link’s ever met that he’s felt a real zing for, but the fact of the matter is – Link would much rather have him as a friend and roommate than lose him as a…well, Link’s not sure if he’d lose him, but the mere possibility keeps Link’s lips sealed.

Besides, it’s okay to crush on someone and never act on it. People do it all the time. Not to mention that it’s a bit…odd to crush on someone in Rhett’s line of work. Isn’t it?

Link can’t think of too many people who will admit to crushing on an adult film star. Regular, mainstream film stars, sure – but adult film stars?

Yeah…

Although, to be frank, Link’s sure there are some that do. And, hopefully, some of them are not the creepy internet troll-y kind of people, but genuine salt of the earth folks like himself. Because, okay, he is crushing on one so…

Rhett is toying with the cards, maybe looking for the next question to quiz Link on when he asks idly, “Y’know, Link – I gotta say, I admire your stamina.”

That remarks makes Link choke on the drink he’s just been consuming, a cough clearing it up some as he croaks, “I’m-I’m sorry?”

Rhett hums noncommittally, as if not noticing the gaffe, “You’ve had yet to grill me about my job. Normally, once folks hear about it, that’s all they want to talk about.”

“Oh,” Link breathes out loosely, “Well, ah-? It-? It just…seemed rude to-to ask…”

“Been over a month living with me now. You telling me you ain’t interested?”

“I didn’t say that!” Link quips back much quicker than he would like, but Rhett just gives him the most perfect smile. All sincere and warm beneath his beard and remember, Link, you’re doing you’re best not to crush on him!

Rhett is still toying with the cards, eyelashes downcast, the very visual definition of shy as he murmurs, “Just sayin’…I don’t mind if you wanna ask some stuff.”

Link’s eyebrows rise in such a way as to damn near bump his glasses off, “Y-You sure?”

Rhett draws in a deep inhale and then sits the cards down. He crosses his arms and leans back in his seat, looking quite serious even despite the casual red flannel and jeans, as if this was more of an interview (or perhaps an interrogation?) than anything else, “Shoot.”

The a million and one questions that Link has kept at bay about Rhett’s job and more personal life threaten to cave his skull in as they crash about in his mind. However, he has to go with the obvious, “Know this’ll be predictable, but…why?”

Rhett just bobs his head in an understanding nod even as Link pushes on, “Why and how?”

Rhett sucks on his teeth before picking up his own beer and taking a fortifying sip before continuing, “The two are kinda interconnected to be honest. Had a fallin’ out with my family. Think I mentioned it in passin’ to you once. But, to clarify; they weren’t too happy with my chosen living destination nor with the fact that I’d come to terms with the notion that I’m attracted to both the ladies and the gents.”

Link’s mind immediately (and joyously) clings to ‘the gents’ remark, bookmarking it for future reference, even as Rhett continues his tale, “You grew up where we did. So you get it.”

Link does. And then, to nail the point home, Rhett adds, “Probably get it a lot more than others. If my…instincts are to be believed.”

Shit.

SHIT.

Link’s whole body immediately bursts into flame, the tips of his ears so hot he’s sure they’re glowing bright red.

Rhett knows I’m gay. He knows. I thought having a radar for that kind of thing was bullhonkey, but he knows and oh, lord, oh lord – do I give off some sorta vibe? I know that girl in my screenwriting class, Stevie, she teased me about being an A-Level twink or something, but I didn’t think-!

Rhett’s laughter carves right through Link’s insecurities, “Take a breath, brother! Look like you’re about to pop!”

Link does and Rhett just shakes his head, still grinning, “Point being – I was pretty much a babe in the woods when I came to LA. Not two nickels to my name, so I took whatever gigs I could get. Managed to snag a few commercials and things of that nature, but you know the drill. Jobs are hard to come by. And a guy of my height?”

He blows out a big breath and tosses all of those luxurious curls about with a rueful head shake, “Yeah, most people fingered me for a baller, so – again – jobs were hard to come by. But then, wouldn’t you know it? A friend of a friend of a contact told me about this part they thought I’d be perfect for.”

Another deep barrel chested chuckle emerges as he reminiscences, “Mighta been nice of ‘em to let me know it was actually a part of me they thought would be perfect.”

Do not zero in on his crotch! Do NOT zero in on his crotch! Charles Lincoln Neal the Third DO NOT-!

Link keeps his eyes so steadfastly forward he probably looks like some bug eyed zombie. If Rhett notices, he doesn't comment, “Anyway, when I found out what the role was, I had planned to politely decline but, y’know, the money they offered…”

There’s an easy shrug and this Link can look at. He looks at Rhett, who looks a bit sheepish as he scratches at one side of his beard, “I mean, again, you grew up where I did. So, you know how the whole ‘wait until marriage’ thing was drilled into your head, but I figured it wasn’t like anybody would know. My family’d cut me off, my friends were few and far in between, and the people on set…”

Now he looks a bit happier and Link can’t help but smile along with him, “The people on set were all right. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard the kind of stories people tend to spin – the exploitation, the drug abuse, other questionable stuff…place I was at wasn’t like that. I mean, maybe I just lucked out or something, but it was…”

Another shrug and he goes for his beer again. Link figures this is as good a time as any to get in another question, “So, you did that and then you…? Just kept going?”

Rhett nods as he drinks, the bottle leaving his mouth with an obscene pop that Link is going to do his best to forget all about right now and certainly not recall at any point in the future (and most certainly NOT when he’s jacking off later), “Yeah, I did the one and the director really liked me. He pull me aside and told me about this company he was trying to set up with a couple of buddies of his. They wanted to go in a classier direction – know how funny that sounds, but he was serious.”

“So, what? No, like, blockbuster porno knock offs? Like ‘Sex in The City and ON the City’ or ‘Arma-get-it-on’?”

“Think you stole that last one from an episode of CSI.”

“I did, doesn’t change the question.”

They’re both smiling like a couple of fools, but the mood is good and the atmosphere light as Rhett sighs, “Yeah, nothing like that. I’ve actually worked with a few female directors, shot some things with great budgets, nice lighting, good costumes…”

“Oooo, costumes,” Link teases in the silliest voice and Rhett swats out at him. Link avoids the hit even as Rhett rolls his eyes, “I’m serious, dude. Some of the things that department pumps out looks better than anything you’d see in Hollywood.”

“Hmm, some kinda wood,” Link snickers and this time Rhett’s swat makes impact, brushing Link’s shoulder and Link would be embarrassed by the giggle he lets out, if it weren’t for the way Rhett’s nose is all scrunched up, making him look beyond adorable, “You’re sucha brat!”

Link sticks out his tongue and Rhett just laughs. They turn their attention to the drinks and chips for awhile before Link circles around to another question, “You like it then?”

“It’s a living,” Rhett confirms, not really answering one way or another, “Like I said – make great money, work with some really nice people.”

“Uh,” Link scratches behind one ear, “Hate to ask, but, um…clean people?”

Rhett doesn’t seem offended, “You bet. Have to be. Another reason I’ve done this as long as I have. Money's great, but the safety is even better. I’m currently under contract with that same company I told you about – the one that director brought me under. On top of wanting to,” he air quotes his next words, “be classier’-”

He drops the quotes, “They wanted to provide an excellent work environment. Heck, me and the other actors and actresses probably have a cleaner bill of health than the entire state. Can’t shoot scene one until you’ve got the A-Okay.”

“Huh,” Link absorbs that with some surprise, but then, he supposes it really shouldn’t be. The adult film industry is a big lumbering beast right alongside it’s more recognized counterpart. No reason one shouldn’t be as cautious as the other. If anything, one has more right to be cautious.

Thinking on this, Link suddenly feels an odd pang. It’s a shame in one way that’s one viewed as more reckless than the other, more questionable. But, when viewed through a mostly puritan lens…

Not wanting to get too philosophical, Link switches gears, “You been in a lot of films?”

“My fair share.”

Another dodge, but Link will let him have it. However, he can practically feel devil horns rise as he asks with a naughty gleam to his eye, “Win any awards?”

Rhett’s practically preening, “Several.”

“Really?” Link asks with some surprise, but Rhett suddenly looks quite naughty himself. Naughty and…a bit too hot for Link’s liking as the heat that always seems to surround him when he’s near Rhett rises and woo boy, he’s really failing at this squashing-the-crush thing.

“If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll show you one of my trophies some time…”

Everything in Link melts into a puddle and he’s not sure what expression he’s wearing, but it’s one that makes Rhett’s whole face light up, “…or maybe, just maybe, I’ll show you a little somethin’ else…”

If it’s possible for a melted puddle to also explode, then Link’s just done it. Rhett bursts into guffaws as he reaches forward and, very smoothly, pushes Link’s jaw up because Link’s jaw? It dropped. He didn’t even feel it drop.

And then, to just add more fuel to the fire, Rhett rubs the pad of his thumb along the bottom of Link’s chin, right below his lip, “Damn, son…you’re just too much for words.”

“I…”

That’s it.

That’s all that Link can offer.

Just one sound, one vowel.

Silent and stunned and Rhett draws back, looking like the cat that ate the canary as he lets him go and rises up from his seat, “Think you need a moment. I’ll be back in a bit.”

And – just like that – Rhett saunters out of the room.

#rhink #randl #my writing #peachworthy #oh my sweet peach

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dxmmymxmmywrites · 4 years

Text

What You Do to Me

Kakashi Hatake x F!reader Smut

Warnings: oral sex, suggestive themes, lots of swearing, mention of violence/death

Cheers to the first story for the horny blog. Let’s see how this goes. Plot here follows an ANBU reader that is returning home. They are referenced as female, but could be any gender in a dress. Hope you enjoy 🖤

————————————

The leadership position was an honor— one you had fought tooth and nail for, even. You stood apart in how willing you were to climb to the top, to become the best of the best. However, it had its downsides.

You struggled making genuine friendships. You could be polite, sure, but so many people didn’t seem worth the effort anymore. It was easier to catapult all of your efforts into your training and work life.

It did make the good friends you had all the more special to you, though. You loved them dearly, and time and time again they proved their loyalty to you. Thankfully it didn’t waver whenever you were away for extended timeframes.

You had been sent away for an assassination. Somewhere nearly across the map, in a remote scavenger village where trouble had been brewing for the Hidden Leaf Village politically. It had done a number on you. You could recall the screams of the warlord’s wife when she found him in his bed with his throat cut.

As you settled into the routine of being home again, you found solace in Kurenai Yuhi. She was the friend that had been with you the longest, since the academy. You witnessed each other’s growth throughout your short lives and had been there to celebrate with and uplift the other whenever needed. That being said, she had also been quick to notice the subsequent depression that fell over you after your latest mission.

“When was the last time you went out?” She asked you flippantly.

You had come over to her home for tea the moment you had turned in the paperwork to the Hokage’s office. You shook your head.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

She flicked your shoulder. “That’s not what I meant. Honestly! For fun. Something that doesn’t keep you holed up in your apartment. You know, with people.”

You gave half a laugh. “You’re scheming.”

“And if I am?”

You sighed. “You’ll rope me into it somehow. Just nothing too wild, please.”

She says it’s for your own good, and she’s probably right. Kurenai arranges dinner at a local bar with your peers, and the other jonin accept their invitations quickly.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. These are people you really loved and appreciated. It would be good to let loose for a bit. And then Kurenai comes to your door to get ready with you as promised, and she throws black fabric in your face immediately.

“WHAt the fuck—?” Scrambling, you take it off your head and your eyes bulge.

It’s a beautiful black dress. Nothing outrageously fancy, but simple and refined without looking like you were trying too hard. You snorted, and Kurenai called out to you from the bathroom.

“Kakashi’s coming, too!”

“Goddamnit... Kuri—“

“Just try it on! I promise it’s not itchy. And you look good in black.”

And as it turns out, you did. The dress hugged you in all the right places without suffocating you, and fell loosely just above your knees.

You and Kurenai looked at your body in the mirror almost surprised.

“Okay, I really like it a lot.” You admitted with a small smile, and she gave a playful smack to your ass.

“I told you!”

...

Everything falls into place accordingly, and as you both approach the bar, you can feel a familiar fire burning in your chest.

You were happy to have time with your friends, but you were itching to see one in particular. You hadn’t seen Kakashi since weeks before you left to execute the assassination.

God, how to describe how you felt for this man and where to begin? He was within your circle of true companions, many of whom you’d known since childhood. But Kakashi— he was different.

You’d admired him from afar as children, intrigued by his protege-level talent, until you had been roped into Gai’s shenanigans along the way. In truth, you think you shocked him by not being so intimidated by his prowess.

Ultimately, you could see he was lonely. You’d had your own losses yourself, but it was hard to imagine everything he had endured. You gained an honest respect for him, and you’d protected him beyond your time together in ANBU. But nothing could deny the pull you felt to him, or how much you wanted to be the person to put a smile on his face.

...Even if you couldn’t see it.

As you wait with your posse, your eyes find him first when he is (of course) the last to show up. You can’t help but observe him greedily when no one else notices, and you can’t help but stand a little taller when you notice his brows rise when he takes in your dress.

And from there, the night is history. You all pile into a cramped booth and order several rounds of drinks and food to last the night. Everyone has something to contribute, laughing, teasing, and bickering the night away. It warms your heart; finally,

you feel like you’re back home.

Your mentality becomes stronger too as you feel the warmth from the sake hit you. With precise aim you manage to toss a piece of sushi into Gai’s mouth from across the table and your audience applauds.

Yet despite your sport, you can’t ignore the looks Kakashi has been giving you even before you laughed in triumph. He’s been particularly quiet for some time, but you can’t tell if it’s the booze or the atmosphere getting to him.

When the waitress comes to gather your third round of empty drinks you can feel your mood shift. She’s a lovely girl,

thin and with pretty doe eyes. You can’t pick it up through the noise, but she makes a comment to Kakashi and you can make out a smug smile through his mask. He holds out cash between two pointed fingers to her, and she happily takes it and bats her eyelashes at him.

Something begins to boil in your blood. It wasn’t like you to get jealous— that couldn’t be it. But you swear you see his eyes dart to follow her hips as she leaves. And it irritates the living shit out of you.

You’d yearned after this man for what? Your entire adult life? How dare he. Disregard the fact you had never had the guts to confess to him.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his pretty eyes, and his stupid soft hair, and his feathery laugh—

God, you were in so deep. Your seething turns into pouting in your head. Sitting on the sidelines sucked.

And even still... something in your resolve is building. It could be impatience, or the fear you were nowhere near drunk enough to pull this off and forget about it if it went sour. But as the waitress eyes him from the bar, you excuse yourself to the restroom while the attention is on Asuma at the other side of the table.

With Kakashi on the outer seat, it’s easy to carefully but firmly hoist his vest into your hand so you can easily whisper in his ear.

“Outside in five, Hatake.”

...

He could easily find you when he got outside to see you weren’t directly by the entrance. You had snuck into the side alley to patiently wait, like a cat waiting for a mouse to show itself from the underbrush.

Your nerves are broiling over while you idle, and the heat in your gut is burning you alive. But just as you’re ready to talk yourself out of it, he sneaks around the corner.

“This is some rendezvous, don’t you—“

He can’t even finish before you’ve swiftly backed him against the wall. You hold his wrists firmly in place by his shoulders, though you’re aware he could quickly break your hold if he tried.

“What the hell’s wrong with you Kakashi?” You pitifully laugh. “Do you think I’m not paying attention to you?”

Your words are more vicious than the defeated sound of your voice.

He playfully arches an eyebrow. “So, you have been watching me?”

“Of course I’ve been watching you, jackass! How could you even— but I know we’re not— but still—!”

Your resolve is quickly dissipating while his expression becomes more amused. Damn him.

“I think that was a confession if I’ve ever heard one,” he calmly adds. You glare at him.

He thinks he’s won, and gets ready to leave, but you press your knee between his legs. He can’t move, and there’s not enough pressure beneath his crotch to hurt, but he then has your attention.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, Hatake?” You dangerously whisper to him.

Now, you see him sweat. His eyes look away, and that won’t do. Not anymore.

“Every night I was away, all I could think about was you.” You breathe into his collarbone, kissing over his clothed neck until you reach his flushed ear.

“Y/N—“

“I’m tired of playing games. You know how much I want you. Only you.” You suck on the lobe of his ear and grin when you feel him inhale sharply.

Your hands fall down to his hips and grip them harshly to ground yourself. With closed eyes, you have to steady your breathing to calm yourself. “If you don’t want this, tell me. You don’t have to.”

He’s ripped out of his haze by the sincerity of your tone. In the dim light, you can see him pull his mask down with a finger to take you in fully. His smile is so breathtakingly, beautifully raw.

“I do want you, and all of this. Now kiss me already.“

And like that, your heads are tilted and your lips are locked. The fire in your belly explodes to the rest of your body and you feel it amplified every time you touch him.

He moans deeply when you begin to push against him, reveling in how this wasn’t a dream. One of his hands cradles the back of your head through your hair, and you grin when the other trails down to grope your ass.

You gently rub your knee into his crotch, and he keens while you run your hands up his toned stomach and over his tight chest. When you’re to his face, you lower your knee to push your hips together and pull his hair as you slip your tongue into his mouth.

He submits to you willingly, openly, and freely. And it drives you wild.

Your kisses become more desperate as your tongues interlock, and he feels up from your thigh to your ass when you wrap a leg around him for balance.

His grip tightens around the back of your legs. “Jump,” he says, breathlessly.

You smile. “No.”

The wild look in your eyes sends a shiver down his spine.

He goes to ask you why, but then you’re on your knees in front of him and he swears he double-takes. You pause when your hand is at his zipper and he swears he’ll scream.

“You can stop me at anytime.”

“I don’t want to! Please,” he rasps, fingers trying to find purchase at the top of your head.

His begging sends the heat within you straight to your core. So you indulge, and pull down his pants and underwear enough to let his cock bob out into the night air.

He hisses at the cold initially, but almost chokes when he feels the flat of your tongue press against his cockhead. Your eyes are dark with a sinister lust when you stare up at him, and it takes his breath away.

“Fuck, Y/N, please,” he whines, his voice catching.

You flick your pointer finger up and trail it from between his balls up his entire length, not removing it from his now fully erect shaft.

“Please what? Use your words baby.”

He bucks his hips forward trying to get close to your mouth again.

“Please Y/N, blow me,” he pants. “Fuck me with that pretty mouth of yours.”

Did you wickedly grin once more? Probably. But you close your eyes and take his entire cock down your throat at once and he nearly seizes.

You start at an agonizing pace, making him wanton and needy for you. But just as he’s tiring, you speedily lick your tongue around his shaft and deeply suck him, making him yelp in the process.

“AH!— Holy shit!” He gasps and tightens his grip on your hair.

You hum around his cock, happy with his response, and he gives you a low, drawn out groan to follow. It’s enough to distract him while your hands hook around the back of his thighs to hold him in place.

You run your nails down his thighs just as you begin to swirl your tongue over his sensitive head, and then you take him as far back into your throat as you can once more.

Kakashi’s eyes are rolling into the back of his head, completely at your mercy and enjoying every minute of it. His silver hair frames his pearlescent skin so well in the darkness, which must contrast well with the weeping cock in your mouth.

You come up for air, and give him fast, sticky pumps as you look up at him cheekily.

“How are you feeling handsome?”

“S-So good, holy fuck.” He tries to catch his air as well, but he shakes his head. “Please, let me fuck your mouth. You feel so fucking good, please let me.”

Who were you to refuse?

#Kakashi #Kakashi Hatake #naruto #lemon #Kakashi x reader #Kakashi lemon #x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi hatake x reader smut #kakashi hatake x reader lemon #kakashi smut #dom reader #dom female reader #smut #sub kakashi #kakashi x reader smut #kakashi x reader lemon

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akaashisupremacy · 3 years

Text

How to Find Love

Summary: Iwaizumi is on a quest to find love with an old friend. What can he do to get there?

Iwaizumi x fem!reader/Oc || Read it on A03

Genre : romance, friends to lovers

Hajime Iwaizumi ran into the cafe, eyes wide and panicky. “I’m already twenty minutes late for the date.”

As he composed himself before he entered the place, he took a deep breath. He was determined to enjoy this date because it might be their last. Hiromi had never taken lateness kindly.

“Gomen, the meeting ran longer than expected,“ he said, nodding his head into a bow, too embarrassed to meet her eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

She looked up from her books with a weary smile. Beside her was a pile of four or five books, some of which were beginning to yellow, meticulously tabbed with colorful post-its.

“You still made it,” she said, closing her book “I usually walk out if my date was a full hour late.”

It was a Thursday. She had an afternoon at the library while he had an early off (if it wasn’t for his work meeting). Neither of them worked traditional 9 to5 jobs. He began to wonder if seeing each other would be easier if they did. Iwa was leaving on a Friday for Osaka for the rest of the weekend. He was a physical trainer for a professional volleyball team, which meant that he travelled with them during their season.

They called for a menu and began to order what would be their dinner.

“How’s work?” he asked, surveying her through the menu.

“It’s a lot of reading,” she gestured towards her stack of books, “But we’re at the beginning of a new research-heavy campaign so it’s normal. How about you?"

“Mmm…it’s still the start of the season so most of the team is quite healthy. Some of them are a little excited so we’re just trying to reign them in to keep them from straining themselves.” he said, thumbing through the pages.

He had settled for a hamburg curry rice while she had gone for a bowl of tuna pasta. She looked distracted.

“What’s up?” he asked, leaning into the table now that the niceties were done with.

“I like my job. I like my team. But why do I feel like I’m just grinding day in and day out." she sighed, resting her chin on her books, “There’s got to be more in adult life than this."

“You’ve got to find the reason out on your own because your employer won’t do it for you. Not that I’m qualified to give advice or anything.” he said, looking up from his drink.

“I know,” she murmured, her head rested between her folded arms “It’s just so difficult to find the energy for it sometimes.”

Iwaizumi nodded. He knew what she meant. No one job could fulfill all his desires for accomplishment. He liked his job, but it wasn’t a perfect job. He wished that he didn’t need to spend so many weekends away from home.

Man, this date was sobering.

“You sound burnt out. Maybe take it slower at work?” he quirked his head to match the angle of hers.

“What is it that you want to do that you’re not doing for work?” he asked. Despite less than a year in the workforce, she already looked so glum.

She pulled herself up and swept her books aside, “I don’t know to be honest. Within the next two years, I just want to be published in other big publications. It doesn’t have to be necessarily on food, more like the stuff I write for fun. The stuff I’m willing to freelance while I have a day job, y’know?”

“Like what?”

Their order had arrived. She stabbed her fork into her pasta and gently twirled it around.

“The New York Times has a column called Modern Love where you write a long essay about some type of love. It doesn’t have to be romantic. It can be platonic, familial, or even failed love as long as it is set in modern day. I’ve been meaning to write about my failed relationships.” she said thoughtfully.

Iwa choked on his first spoonful.

“Well, if this doesn’t work out, I can at least write about it. Get three hundred dollars and buy you dinner to thank you for the experience.” she laughed drily.

“Are you always this pessimistic on your first dates?” he coughed, taking a sip of water “Either ways, I’m glad to be of help.”

She perked up a bit and grinned. Her whole face lit up when she smiled. A wave of warmth washed over him.

“Send me a copy when you get published.” he added, “I want to see what you write about me.”

“I’m definitely going to writet that you were late on the first date.” she said without skipping a beat. She was grateful that they had chosen this cafe. There were not too many people even if it was dinner time, yet the ambient noise that filled the air kept their pauses from being too silent.

Iwa stopped eating and squinted his eyes at her, “You are not gonna let me live this down, huh?" She winked at him with a glint in her eye. He smiled in response.

He couldn’t care less about what the New York Times was but she was evidently fascinated by it. He wasn’t going to own up to uncultured swine he was on a first date. He had already been late.

“Anyways tell me more about this Modern Love.” he settled back into his dinner.

She pulled out her phone and began typing, “The Modern Love column came out with questions to help get to know someone. This could be a fun date activity.”

“Sure, you want to give it a go?”

She shoved the phone in his face and scrolled through the questions. “There are three sets of questions. Each set more intimate than the last. You can choose from the first set.”

Iwa lightly held the phone, his fingertips grazing the back of her hand. He chose the first question that caught his eye.

“Number 4. What would constitute a ‘perfect’ day for you?” he read out loud. Hiromi took her phone back and read the question to herself.

“What’s your answer?” she asked.

“I just got back, I hadn’t figured out what a perfect day would be like here.” he shrugged sincerely.

She snorted loudly, “What a cop out answer!”

Iwa looked up and thought for a bit, “A day spent walking around in the city…maybe a day that starts with a morning jog and a hot unrushed breakfast after. Catching up with friends sounds good too.”

Hiromi nodded. She was fully absorbed as he talked. It was like she was going through the scenes of his day in his mind as he described them.

“What about you?” he asked, snapping out of her out of her reverie.

“A day at the market,” she said quietly. ”Any market day is a good day really.”

“To be honest, it doesn’t depend on the activities so much at times. The people you’re with is definitely important. A day at the market can still be terrible with the wrong company.” she added.

“I wasn’t subpar last weekend, was I?” he asked.

“No...you weren’t.” she replied a little more shyly than usual.

They moved onto the next question.

“What roles do love and affection play in your life?” she read out loud, “Doesn’t have to be romantic again.”

Iwaizumi inhaled sharply. That was such a loaded question.

“If you’ll use this for an article and it gets published, you better buy me dinner someplace nice.” he tutted.

“Then make this one good.” she smirked.

Iwaizumi stopped eating for a few minutes to think through the question. Before he answered, he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.

“It defined my entire career in volleyball. My best friend and I watched a game and we kind of chose to go into the same school team after that because we were both so obsessed with the sport. Our connection was almost telepathic. We barely used signals when it was just the two of us. We basically ran off instinct.” said he softly, his eyes reminiscing a different time.

“Although we went our separate ways after high school, I spent so much time in volleyball that it defined a huge part of who I was too. I mean, if I didn’t play volleyball, I would probably be in another sport, but I’d still think I’d be different, y’know?”

You could tell he was avoiding the word “love.” Iwa was not one to be vulnerable.

“In college when I was in my first serious relationship, it was the type of love that gave me confidence and assurance. But I guess it wasn’t enough…for me to say it deeply impacted my later choices on career and other decisions, unlike volleyball.”

“I can’t help but feel that any defining…relationship I have romantically will be weighed against with my time with volleyball…my first real love…" he tried to laugh it off, but you felt the weight off his words, “And I’ve been lucky enough to have enough love in my life that I don’t need to constantly be in a relationship to feel complete.”

A moment of silence fell in between the two.

“That’s a lot to heap on a relationship.” she whispered in contemplation.

Iwa awkwardly scrambled for damage control, “…no pressure.” was all he managed to say.

“So why try to date? When it’s so tough to find someone who can match up with volleyball?” she asked.

“Companionship?” he shrugged, “It’s still nice to date around.”

“And you’re…nice. I’ve been wanting to date you since we were in college. I’ve liked you for a long time…” his entire face flushed pink.

Her eyes fluttered wide open. Since college? Is he serious?

“Our friends were right,” she said in a hush, “You did have a thing for me. I thought they were just teasing us.”

“You had a boyfriend back then and when you broke up with him, I was seeing someone else.” he exhaled, looking her earnestly in the eye, “Wasn’t it obvious to you?”

Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if Hiromi just didn’t want to speak or was too busy contemplating. She was too stunned to speak.

“It felt like fate seeing you on the plane.”

A million things were going through her mind, she slowly opened her mouth, “Now that we’ve been on two half dates, what’s it like? Is this what you’d thought it would be?”

“College is very different from now, but the short answer is yes.” he nodded, rolling his shoulders back. “Everything just clicks. I’m so comfortable with you. It’s so easy for us to talk. I like you just as much as I did in college…I just really like you. Time hasn’t changed that at all.”

Hiromi looked overwhelmed. She was unable to look him in the eye. She was barely getting to know him romantically and he had long been decided about his feelings for her.

“Do you wanna ask if they sell alcohol here? You look like you need a drink.” he joked. Hiromi didn’t look like she heard him.

"This is so intense for a first date.” she shook her head in what seemed like regret.

“We can stop,” he gently interjected, “We can talk about something else.”

She finally looked up to him and whispered, “Hajime, you’ve just dumped a lot of pressure on me.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that,” he smiled apologetically, “Anyways, I’m aware that we’re both at different…stages of attraction. Besides, I think this would be way more awkward if we both were pining.”

“Wouldn’t that be sweeter?” she asked.

“Way too sappy for me.” he waved with his hand. Hiromi let out a small chuckle. Iwa secretly sighed in relief.

——————————————————————————— After dinner, they headed to the arcade to blow off some steam. Iwaizumi offered to carry some of her books to which he somewhat regretted. Her books were like rocks. How the hell was she lugging them on her own in the city?

“I could carry them on my own if it’s too heavy.” she offered.

Iwaizumi looked at her incredulously. She was at least half a foot shorter and much smaller in build. His biceps weren’t going to buck in front of her.

They wandered around the arcade for a bit, unsure what to do first. Iwa silently prayed they didn’t have to do any dancing. Just when they were about to decide on the claw machine, Hiromi pointed towards a small karaoke booth at the corner of her eye.

“Let’s go in there.” she tugged at his jacket.

Iwaizumi flipped through the songs. None of them seemed to be in Japanese. All of them were in English.

“Did you pick up a default english karaoke song?” she asked, browsing through the catalogue. The room was clearly designed for kids. It was so small their knees touched and Iwa could barely sit up without hitting his head on the ceiling.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “I don’t really sing…in English. Any suggestions?”

Hiromi typed in the number of a song.

“I’m about to introduce you to your first usable English karaoke song.” she grinned at him mischievously. Iwa looked at her suspiciously.

The opening notes started to play—some acoustic guitar and a trumpet. The song sounded…Mexican? For the longest time there were no lyrics on the screen. Hiromi swayed to beat as her eyes were glued to the screen. When the song finally began to hit what sounded like the chorus, the music paused for a second.

“TEQUILA!” she yelled into the mic.

Iwaizumi was so startled he jumped up and hit his head on the ceiling. Hiromi was giggling uncontrollably.

“That’s it?!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah,” she laughed, pressing the mic towards him, “You try on the next chorus.”

When the trumpets began playing, Iwa readied himself. The song hits its familiar pause soon enough and he pulls the mic closer to his lips.

“Tequila?” he said tentatively.

“With more conviction, Hajime!” she urged, taking back the mic. On the third chorus, she moved closer to him so they could share the mic.

The music hits its third pause, they looked at each other and yelled, “TEQUILA!”

They both grinned and laughed, almost as if the act of singing about alcohol was like a drink in itself. He could feel her shins pressed against him as she continued to sway for the music. A glint in her eye flickered as she nudged him to dance along with her.

Iwaizumi wasn’t going to refuse. Especially not on their first date. He swayed what he could on the tiny box while the song lasted.

————————————————————————— At the end of the night, they both sat in the train waiting to get off on their respective stops. The carriage shuttled back and forth, pushing and pulling their bodies back and forth into each other.

“Hajime,” she tapped him on his shoulder, “We didn’t finish the last set. Let’s do a quick one before I get off.”

He nodded, “Pick one we can answer with just one word.”

Hiromi swiftly browsed the list, before looking up.

“Finish the sentence, ‘Right now, we are both feeling…’"

Their faces were both so close they could feel the heat of each other’s breath. The back of their hands were touching, but neither dared to reach out or pull away.

“Hopeful.” whispered Hiromi, an evident earnestness in her voice. She was fighting off her shyness just long enough to look him in the eye when she talked.

Iwa smiled, “Smitten.”

Before she could react, the train jolted as it shuffled towards her station.The train stopped at Hiromi’s station and she got up from her seat, taking the books from Iwa’s arms.

He followed her to the exit and watched her as she got off. She gave a small wave from the platform while she watched the doors closed.

Iwa was tempted to press his hands onto the window, unwilling to end their time for the evening. His last sight of her was her smile when the train plunged itself into the night.

“Did he start out his day at the market with a morning jog?” she asked herself, watching the train swiftly pull away.

Iwaizumi took a deep breath. The night had gone differently from how he thought the date would proceed. For one thing, he didn’t expect to confess so early into the relationship.

He took his phone and curiously googled the questions she mentioned.

It turns out the title of the New York Times article was not “Questions to Get to Know Your Date” as Hiromi had led him to believe. Instead, it was titled, “Thirty Six Questions That Lead to Love”.

“Huh,” he said to himself. He shut off the screen to his phone.

36 was too much. In his opinion 3 was enough.

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This is part 3 of a series on Iwa living in Tokyo after he moves back from California. Comment or message to be added to the taglist.

Also, I’ve been feeling quite down lately, so say some nice things if you feel like it in the comments 😬✌️

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Series taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan

#iwazumi fluff #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime 27 athletic trainer #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x oc #seijoh x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfic #hq x oc #haikyuu x oc #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi series #hq fluff #hq imagines #hq scenarios

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emkay512 · 3 years

Text

Once Upon A Time

Chapter 1

Summary: This starts at the beginning of TRR book 2 with the Fydelia ball but with a different series of events. This AU is based off the show Once Upon a Time with Riley and Liam mirroring Snow and Charming. Characters belong to Pixelberry.

A/N: This is my FIRST EVER post and it’s literal trash 😅 I’ve never written before I found you all, and I’ve never had so much fun reading all the stories I found. If you read this please know I’m a complete rookie and I have no idea what I’m doing haha. I welcome and encourage any thoughts and feedback!

A/N 2: my biggest thank you’s to @queenrileyrose and @bbrandy2002 for pre-reading and giving me endless boosts of confidence!!! This first ever, cherry popping post, is in honor of you ❤️

Warnings: This will contain NSFW adult language and content. By reading, you acknowledge you are 18 and over.

I’m tagging those I’ve connected with and thought would be interested. Please let me know if you do or don’t want to be tagged!

@burnsoslow @ao719 @kat-tia801 @callmeellabella @charlotteg234 @neotericthemis

The welcome ball had been exhausting. Riley finally saw them, all of them, the good and the bad. Mostly bad with Liam being the exception.. except the fact that with him came his stupid fiancée. She was forced to deal with the Penelope’s and Kiara’s of the court, and got none of the Olivia’s and Drake’s of the world, with Olivia blackmailed and Drake most likely avoiding the court. Majority of the conversations she had to deal with throughout the night consisted of her rebutting all the allegations against her, most people believing that she had jilted their king. At least she had Maxwell and Bertrand, her home away from home. With the maybe two seconds she had Liam to herself and the amount of work and effort she had to put into her first public appearance, she was completely drained and changed from a gown and into more comfortable leggings and tank after she got back to her room of the Fydelia estate. Just as she was decompressing from the stress of her night, there was a knock on the door. She opened the door to see a particular grin on the face of one Maxwell Beaumont carrying a vase of two dozen roses.

“Greetings, little blossom! One of the staff members stopped me on the way of delivering these, asking what room you were in and I insisted on catching you myself.” Maxwell invited himself into her room after handing her the arrangement. Riley pressed the roses to her nose, inhaling the beautiful scent, and she noticed a note wrapped around one of the stems. She unwrapped the note and turned to Maxwell, who had already cozied himself up on her bed, clearly excited to hear what was on the note. “I noticed the paper in the arrangement too, it’s clearly from Liam isn’t it? You did so great tonight and he had the biggest puppy dog eyes on you, I knew his Prince Charming ass would pull off something like this.. well, go on! Read it!”

Riley quickly unwrapped and read Liam’s note, she had no idea the girlish grin she had plastered on and Maxwell was beaming. He had hated these past few weeks so much, he had been watching one of his closest friends, his makeshift sister, live in desperate torment, questioning her worth after hearing nothing from those she cared most about. She put the roses down and placed the note down next to them and looked up at Maxwell, “He wants me to meet him on his balcony in 20 minutes..”

“That is charmingly romantic, but did he slip in his royal socks and tumble down Madeleine’s overly buffed stairs?? He’s clear across the estate, it’s way too dangerous for you to get out of here alone.”

Riley sighed and collapsed onto the bed with Maxwell, “I don’t know Max, his note is sweet and remorseful, but.. maybe this isn’t about getting back together.. maybe I should just focus on helping house Beaumont and getting home..”

Maxwell stretched across to Riley and smacked her across her head, “Come on, Riles! You have been unable to go a single day without asking about him.. at least twice a day! You NEED to go meet him, otherwise I think both of your little fairy tale hearts will die.”

Riley smirked and rolled her eyes, “You’re so dramatic! And please tell me what fairy tale involved a half nude photo scandal and public humiliation leading to a bullshit engagement between a king and the only ice queen that would rival both Olivia and Elsa while singing let it go? Plus, didn’t you just mention that it’d be too dangerous for me to get to him?”

“Hellooooooo?? Ok first of all, literally all fairy tales are structured that way, couple meets and falls in love, and a public enemy curses them with a dramatic, heartbreaking lie, and then they defile all enemies and live happily ever after.. you’re just living the 21st century version of that! Nudes are basically the most vanilla scandal these days anyway. And secondly, have you JUST met mr covert ops extraordinaire, Maxwell Beaumont!? I said it’d be too dangerous for you to go out alone. Let’s just simply walk out together, and if we get any questions, we can just say we’re meeting my brother for.. you know.. this and that diplomacy reason.. whatever, I’ll wing it. Plus, look at you, you’re already dressed for stealth. I just need to get you outside, and then you can scamper over to Liam’s side of the building. Whaddya say, blossom?”

Riley was exhilarated. Maxwell always knew how to say the right things. She locked eyes with him, pointed straight to his chest and said, “You son of a bitch, I’m in.” They shared a mischievous smile and giggled their way out of her room, totally giddy without even shutting the door all the way. They were completely unaware of the royal guard that had been manning her room and slipped inside.

Thanks to Maxwell, Riley had successfully snuck out of the estate and crept to below the balcony of Liam’s room. She had to think fast as to how the hell she’d get up there, and then she spotted the flower vine growing on a trellis against the building, and she let out a small victorious, “Yes!”

But as soon as she took a step in that direction, a hand grabbed her shoulder and jerked her around so she was facing one of the royal guards. “I don’t think so, lady Riley,” he put a heavy sarcastic emphasis on the term lady, as he was clearly disgusted by her newfound tarnished reputation. “You’re coming with us.”

“Us?” And then from behind her, another guard bagged her head and she felt the grip of two men on each of her arms as they forced her to their destination, practically dragging her as they went. Riley’s heart was thundering in her chest. Where were they taking her? Back to the airport? A jail cell? A dungeon? A firing squad? She wasn’t at all expecting what she got. She was sat on a decently comfortable chair. The guards removed the bag and revealed to see she was in a study. A large one. And there before her on the opposite end of a mighty desk, was the king father, Constantine.

Constantine nodded a dismal to both the guards, and they took their leave. “Well, well. If it isn’t the disgraced American.” Riley was utterly confused and could feel the former kings command in the mood of the room. He did not like her, and she could feel his dislike radiating off of him. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you, you foolish girl?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

“You had your exit, your out. You were scandled. Ostracized! I even had you as far as at the airport gates. But no, you came back. You came back and left me back at square one on how to get rid of you!”

Realization dawned to her, “It was YOU!” Riley leapt to her feet. She felt no fear, only anger coursing through her. “YOU staged those photos, YOU unleashed Tariq on me.. and you timed the release of those photos, at the most prime time allowing maximum humiliation and zero time in between Liam’s announcement. You’re despicable, I bet you’re even disappointed that Tariq’s attack on me didn’t end.. didn’t end up the way he planned.” She had deliberately slowed her speech as each new revelation came to play in her head, she had lowered her voice with disdain and disgust.

Constantine let out a scoff-laugh at what he considered to be a poor attempt of exerting dominance. “You’re right, and quite honestly I don’t care what that pompous buffoon would have done to you, but I must say, those pictures certainly did deliver.” Constantine was teasing and patronizing her, “And now you’re here, still trying to get to my son.”

Riley crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at him, “I don’t know what you’re tal-“

“Enough. I know everything.” He waved in front of her the very note that Liam had written inviting her to his balcony that he got from one of the guards. “You poisoned his heart, and now his marriage. And with that, the entire kingdom is poisoned, all because your feelings.” He spit the last word out as if he found it vile.

“I wish feelings could be helped, but they can’t.”

“Of course they can. Love is a disease, and like all diseases, it can be vanquished in one of two ways. A cure, or death.” Constantine stood and leaned both of his palms flat on the surface of the desk. “Do you know where your beloved is right now? He’s right down that hallway, he should be packing for his new life, prepared to take on his engagement tour to unify two Cordonian houses and assume the responsibilities and sacrifices it takes to be king. But no.. He’s pining for you. Awaiting your arrival.”

“And I suppose you intend to keep him that way? Waiting for me, only to be rejected, never knowing I came for him?” Riley’s voice was desperate, but still cunning in reality. She needed him to know her questionnaire was not doubtful, but challenging. That she hated his deliberate intentions.

“No. In fact, you’re gonna walk down that hallway. You’re gonna sneak in and tell him you got his note,” Constantine slid the note across the table, no longer wanting it in his possession, and Riley picked it up. “You’re gonna tell him why you answered his call.. Because you don’t love him. It’ll break his heart.. And that will cure him.”

Wide eyed, Riley could only assume the consequence if she didn’t do as he said, “Or you’ll kill me.” She stated with no question in her mind.

“Oh no. I’ll kill him. Killing you would only make him love you more. And the marriage and kingdom would ultimately crumble.”

“And what about your precious Madeleine? I know how this works this is all about mergers and business transactions. How else would you get Godfrey and his house to join with yours?”

“Please, if Liam were to die at an assassin’s hand, he would die a martyr. Godfrey would forgive, even laud, the death. And the merger would be complete.”

“You would do that to your own son?”

“I’m doing it FOR my son.” Love was once Constantine's weakness and it led to Eleanor’s death. It scarred him and he became brainwashed. Convinced love was the enemy. And now, the product of his foolish love, was Liam, who he groomed to be the perfect king. Constantine applauded himself all these years. It was clear as day that even Leo knew the job belonged to Liam, so Constantine did everything to assuage any of Liam’s hesitation into taking on his duty. He always planned on Liam being the logical one, ready to take on the duty and a loveless union. Then that damn New York trip happened. And that damn Riley came in the picture. Immediately Constantine couldn’t tell if he actually hated Riley, or if he hated the idea that Riley was basically the new version of Eleanor that he’d never have.

#the royal romance #TRR #choices #liam x riley #choices trr #liam x mc #king liam

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years

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Arkham Files: The Flash (Wally West)

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Wallace “Wally” West, also known as the Flash. Session One. So, Mr. West, how are you?

Wally: Let’s go over the situation I’m in, shall we? My wife and I visit your creepy, Gothic asylum-perfectly legally, by the way- to make sure that Bruce Wayne is okay, and you get us arrested on bogus charges of trespassing. Then you pull strings to get me stuck in Arkham Asylum while I’m awaiting trial, and now you’re trying to have me declared legally insane so that you can lock me up in here for good. How the heck do you THINK I’m feeling?

Hugo Strange: Your hostility is unnecessary, Mr. West. I am trying to help you.

Wally: If this is your definition of ‘helping’ me, I’d hate to see what you do to people you want to hurt. Seriously, did you go to the Zoom Academy of Making Things “Beeetttteerrrr”?

Hugo Strange: I am nothing like Mr. Zolomon, Mr. West.

Wally: I’ll say you’re not. Hunter...he’s sick. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. But you? What’s your excuse?

Hugo Strange: I do not need an excuse, Mr. West. You may not realize it yet, but you-and all the other costumed vigilantes-are doing more harm than good.

Wally: What do you mean, more harm than good? I’ve had my powers since I was ten years old, and since then I’ve done my best to hold to the promise that I made to Uncle Barry: to use my speed only to help those in need, to combat evil-and never for my own personal gain. I haven’t been perfect at it-I’m not as selfless as Uncle Barry, and I’ve got quite a temper-but I’ve tried. I’ve really, really tried.

Hugo Strange: Let’s talk about your Uncle Barry, shall we, Mr. West?

Wally: Why? So you can twist my words and use them to make him out to be some sort of misguided lunatic? Not gonna happen.

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I assure you I bear no ill will towards Mr. Allen. Obviously, you bear a great deal of affection for him. I simply wish to know why that is.

Wally: Because he’s a hero! He’s brave and loyal and honest and kind and good. He cares about everybody. He uses his powers to protect the weak and help the poor and defend the helpless. He became friends with Albert Desmond when nobody else would’ve given him a chance and got him his job at S.T.A.R. Labs, and he’s tried to help Mick Rory get the treatment he needs for his pyromania, too. He’s raised billions of dollars for charities, and he’s helped to save the world more times than I can count. (Pause) And he does all that while also working for justice as a police scientist!

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, the exploits of Mr. Allen are well-known. I was asking you why you, in particular, are so fond of him.

Wally: Well, he did marry my favorite aunt. (Pause) More importantly, though...as a kid, I really needed a hero, and he….he was my hero. My parents barely knew I was alive, except when I did something that inconvenienced them. When that happened, my dad would call me names or hit me, and my mom would wail and cry and guilt-trip….and then they’d go right back to obsessing over their own problems or arguing with each other. I...I felt like I was all alone, except for Aunt Iris. She was the one person in my family who really seemed interested in me, and she also had this awesome job as a reporter in a big city. She was really cool, but because I lived two hours away from her, I didn’t get to see her very much. (Pause) When Uncle Barry first became the Flash, I didn’t know who he was...but I idolized him. I was his biggest fan! I was even the President of the Blue Valley Flash Fan Club. (Pause, laughs) President and only member. The other kids thought he was cool, but they weren’t as invested in him as I was. To me, he represented freedom.

Hugo Strange: It sounds as though you were a rather lonely little boy, Mr. West.

Wally: Yeah, I guess I was. (Pause) That’s why I was so excited when my folks sent me to live with Aunt Iris in Central City during the summer when I was ten. And that’s when I first met Uncle Barry. Like I said, I didn’t know he was the Flash yet, so at first I thought he was...well, honestly? Kind of a dweeb. But then he told me that he knew the Flash and could introduce me to him. I was so excited, I probably could’ve inhaled an entire shoe. Anyway, Uncle Barry used his super speed to change into the Flash and act like he’d been waiting for me to arrive, and that’s when I met the Flash. He was everything I’d dreamed he would be. Even though I had been a little bit of a brat to him as Barry Allen, he treated me with respect; like he was happy to meet me and have me around, and it put me over the moon. Eventually, he started to explain how he’d gotten his powers, and that’s when it happened: lightning struck twice. I was doused in the same chemicals he’d gotten his super speed from, and I gained access to the speed force. It was the best day of my entire life. Besides the day I married Linda, of course. I became his sidekick, and from that point on, he was like a second father to me. He laughed at my stupid jokes, got me ice cream, took me on field trips, played games with me….all the things I dreamed of having my dad do with me. Eventually, he told me his secret identity. It was shortly before he and Aunt Iris got married, and I was ecstatic to learn that my favorite aunt was going to marry my hero. I was the ring bearer at their wedding, and from that point on, Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris basically raised me. They helped me through my parents’ divorce. Uncle Barry taught me how to balance a checkbook and apply for college scholarships; Aunt Iris helped me get my driver’s license and taught me how to really notice when other people were in need. (Pause) If it hadn’t been for them, I...I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. Maybe I’d be one of Captain Cold’s strays right now.

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, let me posit a question to you. If your uncle loved you so much, why did he put you in a costume and allow you to fight dangerous criminals? You became the so-called Kid Flash at ten years old, and by the time you were eleven, you had already faced the Weather Wizard, Captain Cold, and the first Mirror Master-to say nothing of your garden-variety gangsters and thugs. Surely, a responsible adult would have ensured that you stayed far away from such violence...and yet Mr. Allen seemed to almost thrust you towards it.

Wally: (Annoyed) Thrust me toward it? Are you kidding? If Uncle Barry hadn’t allowed me to be his sidekick, I’d have struck out and done superhero work on my own. I wanted to be just like him, remember? If anything, I thrust him into letting me fight criminals. (Pause) Besides, it wasn’t like he was just letting some random kid fight crime. I had super speed, remember? The chances of my getting shot were virtually nil. And the Rogues have a thing about not hurting kids. I wasn’t in any particular danger, especially not with Uncle Barry watching out for me.

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, you obviously are unaware of this, but your uncle is a very sick man.

Wally: Have you been listening to anything I said? Uncle Barry is the best man in the world. If that makes him crazy...well, I don’t want to be sane!

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I understand that this is difficult for you, but you must face reality. Your uncle was a very eccentric, very lonely man. He had few friends; most of his life was absorbed in his work. He always wanted to be someone special, but he knew that slow, lazy Barry Allen was no one important. Like you, he idolized a superhero-in his case, the Mystery Man known as Jay Garrick, and, like you, he wished that he, like his hero, was special. When his metahuman powers were activated by the lightning strike, his mind, already fragile from years of being mocked and looked down upon by his peers, shattered. He decided to use his powers to emulate the hero he had read about and idolized as a child, so that he could finally be special. Eventually, his antics drew the attention of other, even more damaged individuals, thereby indirectly inspiring the debut of all the costumed oddities that both you and your uncle spend so much time playing cops and robbers with. And then he met you. Another lonely little boy who wanted to be special. When you got your powers, he saw a chance to expand his fantasy world; recklessly endangering you. He may have been deluded enough to call you a sidekick, but what you really were was a child soldier. No wonder your life was sent into such a tailspin when he was temporarily lost in the speed force five years ago. Without him around to help maintain the fantasy that he had indoctrinated you into, you were lost, and the only solution you could think of was to take up the role that he had once filled. You are not a hero, Mr. West. You are a sad, deluded child; just as your uncle is a sad, deluded man. But I will see that you get the help you need.

Wally: (Furious) That’s a load of bunk, and you know it! I don’t know what your game is, Dr. Strange, but you’re not going to get away with dragging my uncle’s name through the mud!

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, your loyalty to your uncle is misguided. He is a dangerous vigilante, one who took advantage of your innocence and loneliness to turn you into yet another costumed freak. What he did to you was wrong, and it is my duty to make sure that you, and the rest of the world, realizes that fact.

Wally: (Very loudly) Don’t you talk about Uncle Barry that way, you filthy liar! (Stands up rapidly; knocks over the chair he was sitting in)

Hugo Strange: Mr. West, I would advise you to refrain from such open displays of hostility. Otherwise, I will have to recommend that your children not be allowed to visit you, for the sake of their own mental health.

Wally: And how do you think it affected their mental health to have their parents locked up on phony charges, huh?

Hugo Strange: Neither of you were fit guardians for them, Mr. West. I understand that having them separated from you was upsetting, but it is for their own good. You and your wife obviously love them, but you are too ill to properly care for them, and your wife was only enabling your behavior. It was simply not a safe environment for the children, so they have been removed from your home until such time as you have been cured and can properly care for them. Two generations of costumed vigilantes is quite….(Hugo Strange is frozen solid)

Capt. Cold: And he’s got the nerve to call us crazy. Really, accusin’ you an’ your missus of being bad parents? I seen how you dote on those kids, West. Only a nutjob could think you were unsafe for ‘em.

Wally: Captain Cold?

Capt. Cold: The one and only. You ready to bust outta this joint, kid?

Wally: Are you seriously asking me to help you escape prison?

Capt. Cold: Sam got Lisa and all the guys out already, and I’ve pretty much already escaped, kid. Just figured I’d be nice and get you outta here, too-before the Doc decides to give you a lobotomy. (Freezes and breaks Wally’s metahuman power dampener) Besides, Central City is furious over what happened to you and your missus. They ain’t exactly gonna expedite you back here.

Wally: All right...but as soon as Iron Heights gets rebuilt, I’m taking all of you Rogues straight back there.

Capt. Cold: I wouldn’t have it any other way. (Pause) C’mon, kid. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.

#the flash #dr. hugo strange #wally west #captain cold #flash comics #dc comics #fanfic

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 24

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2004

“We lay to rest a beloved member of the community. A mother. A friend. A daughter. A wife. Claudia Stilinski...” We stood on the lawn of Beacon Hills Memorial Cemetery, watching Aunt Claudia’s casket being lowered into the ground. She had been sick for so long and it was starting to turn ugly... But she was in a better place now, that’s what Uncle Noah said. When he spoke at least. I looked past the grieving people, like Ms. McCall, Scott, the entire police department, and looked at Stiles. He looked so tired. His cheeks were tear stained and his eyes were red from crying.

Once people started to disperse, my parents and I made our way over to Uncle Noah and Stiles. While the adults talked, Stiles and I just continued to stare at the grave. The grounds keepers were starting to cover her body with dirt.

“Do you want me to spend the night tonight?” I whispered, reaching over and holding his hand.

Stiles shook his head, chewing on the inside of his cheek, “I want to be alone tonight.” He gave my hand a squeeze.

“Wouldn’t tonight be the worst time to be alone?”

“I just want to be at home with my dad. I need some time for myself.”

“(Y/N).” We both turned at my father’s voice, “Let’s go, sweetie.” We both looked back at the grave.

“Okay. Well, call if you change your mind.” I gave his hand a squeeze before letting it slip away.

We got into the car, making our way back home.

“How you holding up, sweetie?” Mom turned back and looked at me over the sink.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.” I said, looking out the window.

“Well, you don’t have to.” Dad said, “We’ll get into our pjs and watch Disney movies. You know how much Aunt Claudia loved Disney movies.”

I swallowed thickly, “Actually... I was hoping that I could go to see the Hales. If that’s okay.” Dad sighed loudly and mom smacked him subtly.

“Sure, baby.” Mom said, a sad smile on her face, “I’ll call Talia when we get home.”

When I was dropped off at the Hales’, Talia welcomed me with open arms, a blanket, and a hot chocolate. I guess what I needed was away from the whole situation. We played games, Laura braided my hair, we made friendship bracelets. At the end of the night, Laura and Cora had fallen asleep to the movie we had been watching and Derek had snuck us both onto the roof of the Hale house. We were on our back, looking up at all the stars in the sky and the moon shining down on us. We had been in silence for a while until Derek cleared his throat awkwardly.

“So, uh, are you excited for high school next year?”

I sighed and shook my head, “After today? I don’t think I’ll be ready for anything.”

“Yeah...” He turned on his side to face me, “I’m sorry about your aunt. I know she was important to you.”

“Thanks...” I turned, “I guess I’m just kinda worried about everything. I don’t know what life is going to be like without her. And I’m worried about Stiles too.”

“I bet. I don’t know what I would do if I lost my mom.” He said. Then, he reached out and grabbed my hand, “Whenever you feel like this again, let me know. You can come over and we can do this again. Whatever you need, I’ll be there.”

I smiled, a slight blush to my cheeks that I really hoped was hidden in the dark, “Thanks, Derek.”

“Of course.” He smiled, “It’s what friends do.”

The communication with Beacon Hills was slim to none. And, ya know, that didn’t feel great. I understood that everyone was busy living their lives whether it was being a high school student or fighting supernatural beings or being a supernatural being or the sheriff in a town full of both. But unanswered texts and calls were starting to get to me.

The ones I got weren’t great either though. Stiles occasionally sent me a long email about the events that had happened since long distance calls weren’t in the phone plan.

I had learned more about the alpha pack - a blind one, a woman who could definitely use a manicure, a strong man, and twins who could morph into each other. I was almost a little happy I didn’t have to deal with that.

All the betas were missing except Isaac who had stayed behind. Even if he did get in trouble every now and then.

And then missing turned into dead. Hearing that Erica was dead really hit me hard. I barely knew the girl, a few moments and quick chats usually didn’t mean that much. But they found her locked in a closet, rotting. It was horrifying. She was a child. She was finally enjoying her life - a new life without seizures and bullying, her parents had taken her to get pictures taken; happy to see that their little girl loved herself for the first time. Now she was gone.

They found Boyd alive, thankfully. And surprisingly, they had found Derek’s sister: Cora.

Not forgetting that there were flocks of animals committing mass suicide and kids turning up murdered. It seems home is getting more and more dangerous. Not only was there an alpha pack but there was a creature called a Darach, a dark druid.

The leader of the alpha pack, Deucalion, was trying to get Derek to join his pack. He also wanted me to join as well, apparently he had been asking where I was. To join, he would have to kill the betas. Derek, who I’m sure was done being manipulated, refused. To keep him safe, Derek kicked Isaac out of the depot to live with Scott.

Speaking of dead...

Even thousands of miles away, the vision of falling three stories still hurt as much as if I was actually there. A battle between the alphas, Derek and Scott. And honestly, I wasn’t sure if Derek was alive or dead. Every little message I thought to him just echoed in my head. I had cried, tried forcing myself to work through it. But nothing really worked. I still woke up in the middle of the night, naked on the castle grounds having shifted my feelings or else I was instinctually trying to search for him. First it was anger, next it was denial, then more anger. And that was all just last night.

Hell, not even forgetting to mention the fact that the test Lachlan ran on me was a little more than just a blood panel. They checked for human chorionic gonadotropin hormone aka the pregnancy hormone. And things were just getting better and better. Because it was positive. I am pregnant. And the father may be dead.

Sending a preemptive long distance fee to Stiles’ PayPal account, I called the house phone. It didn’t have caller ID but it was something. Michael didn’t think it was a good idea, however, it was gonna be a cold day in Hell before I listened to his double agent ass. Lachlan thought I deserved closure. And I trusted him more.

“Stilinski residence.” Stiles’ voice was a little scratchy, but still loud and clear.

“Stiles, if you hang up on me I swear you will live to regret it. I still have access to your secret YouTube channel.” There was a pause on the other end, then a sigh.

“Hey (Y/N). I was wondering why I got an email from my PayPal."

"Is there a reason I've been on everyone's pay no mind list? Because it's starting to piss me off."

"Well... Derek said that we shouldn't worry about or get you stressed out."

"So not talking to me for months is supposed to help?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Uh... Ya got me there."

I groaned and started tapping my foot, "I just...." My mind seemed to go blank, my heart rate going up. That's not right. I wasn't doing anything to make it spike like this.

"I know, I know. And I'm sorry, I wish I could contact you more. But there's a lot going on here with the alpha pack and Lydia and-and Derek-"

"Shit." I wheezed, sitting down on the bed. My body felt so warm and not in the way it normally would.

"Yeah I know, it's a lot right now-" His voice was drowned out by my senses taking over. It was the familiar warmth of intimacy. But not from me. It was Derek! He was alive. But he was with someone. And that someone-

He was kissing her. Touching her. His heart racing. Her touch set his skin ablaze and nothing else mattered. Not even the wounds on his body that nearly killed him. But all that mattered was her intoxicating touch. The touch of a woman he didn’t know. But her whole being enveloped him.

I screamed loudly in anger, but behind that anger was so much pain. My chest ached and felt like it was being pulled across the world. I dropped the phone, holding my chest.

"(Y/N)? (Y/N)! What's wrong?!" My breathing was erratic and my thoughts were going wild between what had just happened and what I was thinking and what I had to do from here. I felt so helpless and alone. What could I do?

Then... There was an answer. Maybe it was the stress? Maybe it was my raging hormones? But I had my answer.

I picked the phone back up.

"(Y/N)! Talk to me, what's going on?"

I inhaled and exhaled deeply, "Derek’s alive."

"He is?"

"But not for long." I hung up.

How dare he? HOW COULD HE? AFTER EVERYTHING WE HAVE BEEN THROUGH OUR ENTIRE LIVES AND HE JUST- JUST THROWS IT ALL OUT? And for what? Who could have been more important than me? I'm his stupid mate for Christ's sake.

But if he wants to sleep around?

Fine.

He could for the next thirteen hours. Because I'm going back to Beacon Hills for the soul purpose of ripping his heart out like he did mine. And if this emotional trauma affected my child? Well, there were repercussions for that too.

Michael and Lachlan were in my room, watching me as I threw together a bag to take on the plane. Remarkably, as a member of the Lunar Circle I would get free airfare courtesy of Lachlan mostly because the guy was insanely rich and he agreed with my revenge plot, for the most part.

"Okay, let's think rationally here." Michael said, taking things out of my bag as I was putting them in, "He's a total douche bag for doing this. We all agree. But in your state, I don't think you should fly. I mean anything could happen."

"I can fly until I'm thirty-six weeks along." I said curtly, grabbing my things out of his hands and putting them back in the bag.

"Come on, think about what you're doing-"

"I have thought about it. And I'm going to kill him."

Michael looked back at Lachlan who had his arms crossed over my chest, only observing.

"A little help here, Praetor McLeod?"

Lachlan shrugged, "Seems justified to me."

"Murder? Murder seems justified to you." He asked incredulously.

"It's the werewolf way." Lachlan said simply.

"Thank you, Lachlan." I smiled.

"Anytime."

"Okay, what about this?" Michael stood in front of my path to my bag, "Murdering him seems like a great idea right now, I totally get it. But-but if you do that, it will weigh heavily on your conscience."

"The Lunar Circle has excellent insurance, including therapy." Lachlan chimed in.

I moved Michael out of the way, "Duly noted."

Michael sputtered, "And-and your baby? What about your baby? That's their dad."

"Their dad who decided to stick his penis in another woman." I raised my eyebrows at him, "That one? Yeah, what a stand up guy."

“But you love him. Don’t you think killing him-”

“Michael!” I slammed my suitcase shut, “Shut up.” I turned and faced both of them, “You’re right, okay? I do love him, which is the worst part. I hate him so much but I still love him. I dedicated my life to him and I thought he had dedicated himself to me. I was wrong.” I zipped the bag and made my way out the door, “I’ll be back at the end of the week.”

Getting on the plane didn’t take long. Relatively short lines, quick ticket, fast boarding. Like someone was looking out for me as I went to kick Derek's ass. Becoming alpha to Derek's pack was starting to sound better and better as the pain continued to radiate through my body. Eventually, I just felt numb.

The people on the plane were nice. I sat next to an older gentleman who slept for the most part so I could whisper profanities under my breath. The stewardess had been kind, making sure I had enough to drink. It seems someone had tipped them off I was pregnant, probably Michael. The guy had been a nervous wreck since he found out I was pregnant. He wouldn’t even let me train, not like he had much of a choice in what I did. But he sure knew how to annoy me out of a room. Lachlan had been supportive, talking about adding an additional room onto mine for a nursery. I told that it wasn’t necessary since I wouldn’t be staying in Scotland that long.

After the plane landed, I was met by a very tired looking Stiles. We didn’t speak much, just began the drive back home.

"So...." He swallowed, his eyes darted from me to the road ahead, "Pregnant," He chuckled nervously, "That-that's great! I'm so happy for you.” He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. He was hesitating, he wanted to say something else, “Uh...Speaking of-” I groaned loudly, another lecture.

He ignored my dramatics, “Maybe you shouldn't kill him. That's not good for the baby..."

“It wasn’t good for the baby when he decided to take our bond, step on it and rub it in the dirt.” He was silent, but not for long.

"Yeah-but you see we kinda need Derek to help with some big bads. Like Deucalion and the Darach and ya know, other stuff."

"I remember you telling me about it. I tried to do some research but Lachlan said that we didn’t have too much information on them.”

“Well that’s not too helpful.”

We made it back to the house at sunset, which was perfect timing. The cover of night would be great to conceal me in the dark. Sure, he would smell my scent but he would have no idea where I was coming from. I pulled on the handle on the door but stared at it when it didn’t budge. Still locked. I looked back at Stiles. He looked tired, a wreck.

“Would you just... See dad before you cover yourself in blood? He was really excited to hear you were coming home.” Like he always seemed to be, Stiles’ was right. I should see Uncle Noah.

“I will. I need to rest anyway. Besides, I can’t kill him on an empty stomach.” I winked.

“You terrify me.” He unlocked the doors. We got out just in time for Uncle Noah to jog down the driveway.

“There she is!” He grinned, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me tight.

“I missed you so much.” I said into his shirt, giving him a soft squeeze. He pulled away and looked over me, “Look at you.” He motioned to my stomach that looked more like I was bloated than a fetus growing inside of me, “This-this is... Mhm. Exciting!”

I chuckled, “Thanks. Very mhm.”

“Uh, you hungry?”

“Starving.”

Dinner had been extremely awkward, the conversation mostly coming back to the child growing inside of me. Lots of questions from both of them. Mostly how I hadn't called. In actuality I had called approximately twenty times a day with no answer from anyone per Derek's request. Unfortunately for him, his requests were now being put on the back burner. I excused myself to my room.

My room was kept the same, I'm certain no one had been inside besides Uncle Noah. And from the ruffled blankets, maybe Stiles. Back when we were kids, we used to sneak scary movies and had to sleep in a huddled pile because we were too scared to sleep by ourselves.

I grabbed a jacket and opened up my window, I was half way out of it when my door opened. Stiles stood in the doorway. We stared at each other for a minute.

“I may regret saying this one day because I don’t care for Derek, but don’t kill him.” He said, “Kick the living shit out of him, sure. Get in a few punches for me. But don’t kill him. We need him.” Of course, all it took was Stiles to talk me off the murder-ledge.

“I won’t kill him.” I smiled, “I’ll be home soon.”

Odds are, with the alpha pack threat Derek will have the depot protected. What he failed to remember was that the most dangerous being in the world had a key to every place in the depot. I simply walked in the front door. Almost like he was expecting me.

His scent was so strong, like the forest after it rained. It made this ball of emotion well up in my chest bringing me back to all the love and memories we had shared together. Not all the memories were life and death. They weren't all fights. Some days, Derek and I would curl up and bed and never leave, only grabbing food here and there. His smile would light up his whole face, sometimes it would even reach his green eyes and make them sparkle. When he would nap, he would lay his head on my chest and sleep, like he was finally at peace with himself and the world. That was the person I loved.

I walked through the main room at the depot, getting to the stairs. The worst part here was the pictures, us together, the pack. I want to make the depot less abandoned and more homey for the betas to have a place to go and relax. Some of the pictures had turned heads at the photo developing counter (but I had managed to convince them that it was for a theater class). The worst part was that on my way here Boyd had been killed. If only I had been here soon, if only I had been here at all. Only two of the pack remained, Isaac and Jackson who was no longer a killer lizard thanks to Lydia. Say what you will about Peter Hale but sometimes he knew what he was talking about.

If Derek knew I was here, he hadn’t tried to make a move. Smart.

After wandering a bit, I finally decided to face the music. I found him hunched over his desk in the main office room. Rain was dancing against the fluorescent lights from the street lamps down below. He hadn’t looked up at me the whole time that I walked up to him. He felt defeat and alone. He had lost everything. He was looking down at his desk, his hands laced together. He looked up slightly, more looking at my shirt than my face.

“I...” His voice was soft and quiet, something unlike the loud, booming man I was used to, “I messed up.”

“Yeah, you did.” It was silent for a moment, then he spoke again.

“Who’s with you?” He asked, his eyes scanning the room.

I narrowed my eyes at him, “No one.”

“Then why do I hear another heart-” His eyes widened. He stared directly at my stomach. I thought I almost saw his ears perk up.

“Are you...”

“I am. I’m having a baby. Emphasis on the ‘I’m’.” I really hadn’t wanted to do much talking, I really hadn’t planned on saying anything besides obscenities and screaming at him. He stood up from the desk and quickly came around, he reached his hand out towards my stomach but I smacked it away.

“You have no right to touch me. Especially when I can still smell her stench on you.” I scrunched up my nose and sneered.

“Look,” He licked his lips, “I can’t give you a good answer or an excuse-”

“Good, because I don’t want one.” I glared.

He looked at me a moment then continued, “I don’t know why I did what I did. Something just came over me. Please tell me you believe me.” He put his hand on my shoulder.

He really should have taken a lesson out of his own book. With amazing speed, I grabbed him by the throat and threw him across the room. When he landed, my features shifted and my eyes glowed red. He groaned, holding at his waist. That’s where he had been injured in the alpha fight, it had healed but it was still sore.

“I don’t want your apologies.” I growled, walking towards him, “I want you to feel what I felt. The pain and the suffering. The violation...” I chuckled darkly, “You know that I felt her hands on you? Touching the most private parts of your body that only I was supposed to feel. Do you know how disgusting I felt afterwards? I felt used and dirty and it wasn’t even my body.” I stepped on his chest with my boot to keep him down on the ground. He still wasn’t looking at me. I snarled, grabbing him by his shirt and shoving him against the concrete pillar he landed on.

“Look at me!” I roared, “You broke me into a million little pieces. You didn’t answer my calls.” I punched him.

“You kept me hidden in the dark about Erica’s death.” I hit him again.

“You wouldn’t let my family communicate with me and when they did they couldn’t even tell me everything that was going on. I was begging to hear from someone, anyone, I was all alone!” I threw him across the room.

“You blocked my number two months ago.” I stalked over to him, ignoring the tears running down my face, “I couldn’t even hear your voice on your goddamn voicemail!” I got down on my knees and grabbed his chin so that his eyes met mine.

“LOOK AT ME!” I screamed, “Look what you did to me! For months you’ve been using our bond for your own strength, strength that used used to heal and have sex with another woman!” My voice was starting to crack as all the things I had thought about were coming out, “See how much my heart broke when I felt how happy you were with someone other than me.” He was finally looking at me. The worst thing though was that his eyes were full of so much love for me, that special twinkle that Peter said only happened when he looked at me. I wasn’t angry anymore, I was devastated.

“I came here to kill you.” I sniffled, my features shifting back to normal, “I wanted to tear your heart out. But I can’t... I can’t because I love you and I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I shouldn’t have hurt you, but I want to because of what you did.” As the anger fogged cleared, I realized that I was just as bad as he was.

“You had every right to hurt me-”

“No, I didn’t. I shouldn’t have hurt you. I’m sorry.” I looked down at my hands, “I felt so out of control. I thought I was getting better at it.”

“You were.” Derek sat up slowly, “It’s the baby. All of your emotions are going to be heightened. More than usual.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I made my way towards the exit, not caring that he was calling after me, running to catch up to me. I just left him there. Even when I got home and he tried to get into my window, I just ignored his pleading. What I did wasn’t right, I shouldn’t have hit him or punched him. I was just so angry and that anger clouded my vision.

Weren’t we a pair - one cheats and the other goes into a blind rage. Perfect.

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

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cakesunflower · 5 years

Text

Two’s A Party [C.H. One Shot]

A/N: So basically I read this sentence prompt that went “If you don’t get turned on by having your neck kissed, something’s wrong with you” and instantly thought of Calum and viola this was born. Funny how I was legit talking to @5sosnsfw last night about how writing smut is so bleh and then I wrote this about 24 hours later. Calum just does it to me, man.

This is written in 2nd person which I rarely ever do in a proper one shot so enjoy it while it lasts LMAO. This is all just smut/situations leading up to it.

It’s only about 4k words so...... Happy reading!

The party had died down around two-thirty in the morning, your apartment engulfed in a pleasant, calm lul as opposed to the enjoyable rowdiness your friends brought with them. Besides, it wasn’t even a party, per se. More so a get together with your closest friends where you watched movies, ate lots of food, played board games, and drank even more alcohol. It was a fun way of winding down from the week and getting ready for the weekend, jobs and other adulting commitments making it difficult for you to see your friends as often as you’d like.

Especially those who didn’t stick around for too long, given their lifestyle, vastly different from your own, had them constantly traveling.

“Are you still going?”

Your eyes flickered away from the TV, which was playing an episode of Vampire Diaries—you weren’t sure why; you vaguely remembered one of your friends wanting to watch an episode just for Ian Somerhalder—and you looked up at Calum emerging from the hallway. He was eyeing the glass of wine you were sipping from, his own eyes a bit glassy from the hits he’d taken, curls ruffled a top his head as he slowly made his way over to you.

He was the last one still at your place, the rest of your friends having climbed into their Ubers after bidding goodnight, and you didn’t mind at all. You loved Calum’s company, sober or otherwise, and you didn’t have to tell him he was welcome to stay over for him to know.

You lowered the glass after swallowing the bittersweet sip, a lazy, tipsied smile gracing your lips. It was your second glass of wine—thought that was after a round of ill advised shots Luke wanted to take and a couple of hits from one of your other friend’s pen. You weren’t drunk, but a pleasant, enjoyable buzz hummed through your veins and tickled your skin. Your head kind of felt heavy on your shoulders, nothing you weren’t used to, but it was a welcome feeling.

“Don’t judge me in my own home,” you responded, watching as Calum snorted as he stepped over you. You were sitting on the ground, on a floor cushion that was softer than your couch, back against it as you absently watched the show with a throw blanket on your lap.

You felt the couch subtly move behind you, hearing Calum grunt gently as he laid down, legs dangling over one side of the arm rest as his head rested on the couch near where yours was as you remained seated. “Why’re you sitting on the floor?” Calum asked, voice raspy and just a little bit muffled due to his cheek pressed against the couch.

You licked your lips, tasting the wine, wondering if you should pour some more as you drawled, “Why are you asking so many questions?”

You knew why, of course. He wasn’t entirely sober, and whether he was drunk or high—especially high—it was when every question that ran through Calum’s mind was voiced. His need to know things always took over, asking, asking, asking. And you were always patient with him, always answering, wanting to do your best to feed his hunger of knowing. That’s how it also worked when you told him about the classes you were currently taking in grad school, and he asked you about the lectures and readings. He couldn’t go back to school like he wanted, not yet anyway, so you let him live vicariously through you. Calum always did the same when you asked about his life on the road, the wanderess in you never silenced.. Give and take, always.

Calum was silent for a few moments, the only sound in your apartment coming from the TV as the show continued on. You watched with slightly hooded eyes, unable to truly focus. At this point, you may be more tired than high. But you wanted to enjoy Calum’s company for as long as you could.

“Can I ask you another question?” he finally spoke up, the lazy drawl in his deep voice enticing. When you hummed in response, Calum asked, “What the fuck is sexual abandonment?”

You let out a groan, throwing your head back, just barely grazing Calum’s side where he lay as you felt and heard him chuckle at your reaction. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as thoughts of your ex flashed through your mind, more annoyed than pained. There was no love lost, but Calum was really blowing her shit right now. “Listen, shut up. I can’t believe I dated someone who used that as a reason to break up,” you huffed, straightening your head with a shake of it. Calum’s chuckles were deep behind you, all too amused, as your face scrunched up at the mere thought of your ex-boyfriend. He really had said he was dumping you because of sexual abandonment. You figured that’s why you’d never date a law student again. Or someone named Greg. You snorted as you raised your glass of wine. “I’m surprised he didn’t sue me.”

That only had Calum laughing harder, your smile growing as you swallowed your wine and looked over your shoulder. He was pressing his face on the couch cushion, shoulders shaking from his raspy laughter, and you could see the crinkles by his eyes as he did so. He was fucking adorable.

You bit your smiling lower lip, forcing yourself to look away from him and back at the TV screen, face scrunching up once again in distaste as you sounded disapprovingly, “Ugh.”

“What?” Calum questioned through a somewhat squeaky and endearing voice as his laughter dissolved into chuckles, taking a breath to calm himself down.

“That,” you answered, pouting at the TV as you watched one of the characters kiss the other’s neck, the recipient of it looking far too much like she was enjoying it. You couldn’t relate. “Not fun. Does absolutely nothing.”

From behind you, you heard Calum let out a disbelieving scoff, and without even looking at him you could hear the frown he wore as he said, “If you don’t get turned on by having your neck kissed, something’s wrong with you, doll.”

You finished off your wine with a roll of your eyes, putting the glass on the coffee table and blinking back some focus as you realized you put it a bit too close to the edge and pushed it further to the center of the table. Settling back against the couch, you informed your Australian friend, “No one I’ve ever been with has turned me on by kissing my neck. Either they just suck at it, or something really is wrong with me.”

Calum clicked his tongue in disapproval, and you felt his right arm wind around you, settling across your collarbones as he remained behind you. You enjoyed his warmth, the closeness not unfamiliar, until he shifted and you felt his lips brush along the shell of your ear as he murmured lowly, “They didn’t know what they were doin’. You need someone who does.”

Either you were drunker than you initially thought, or this was starting to take a turn you hadn’t been prepared for. Still, the sound of his husky voice sent a shiver down your spine, stomach flipping excitedly as you played with him for a brief moment, perhaps as a way of testing to see if you were right about the direction this was headed in. “Let me know if you find anyone willing.”

The hand that was wrapped around you was settled near the nape of your neck, throat working when Calum dragged a finger along the side of it in a featherlight touch. “Already have.”

Yeah. This was definitely going where you realized you desperately wanted it to go.

You inhaled deeply, the anticipation suddenly buzzing your veins more than any of the drinks had, biting the inside of your lower lip as Calum hummed, “Come up here, yeah?”

You moved without much thought, getting up from the floor to scoot up to the couch as Calum had moved, the blanket falling to the floor. Without having you face him, he had you settled between his legs, relaxed, hands settling at the juncture of your thighs where the heat of his touch seeped through the thin material of your leggings. Your heart was thundering your chest, in overdrive as you breathed in the scent of his familiar cologne deliciously mixed with the faint scent of weed, feeling Calum sit up behind you as his chest pressed against your back.

“Relax, doll,” he murmured, voice all too enticing, “just watch your show.”

It had been challenging to focus on the damn show before; did he really think you’d be able to now?

Still, you did as he said, ridding of any tension built from anticipation as you leaned into his sturdy chest, gaze on the show playing on the TV as you felt the first soft pressure of Calum’s lips. He started on your left side, where your neck met your shoulder, and you reveled in the coincidence of your decision to wear a tank top tonight.

Calum’s movements were slow, purposeful, as he pressed close mouthed kisses, starting a trail leading up the side of your neck, and each touch of his soft lips against your skin had you lightly biting your bottom lip. It was embarrassing how the sensation of his lips already had you realizing that, yeah, this was better than anyone else who’d ever tried this on you.

His hands were on your hips, teasingly sliding to the juncture of your thighs, the brush of his fingers flipping your stomach desirably. You weren’t oblivious to the way your heart was picking up its pace, already starting to find it difficult to focus on a bunch of vampires on the TV screen as Calum’s lips reached the spot where your jaw and neck met. The added sensation of his stubble scratching gently against the previous kissed spots, along with the tickling brush of his curls, had you biting your tongue as you tried to keep your breaths steady.

The wine that buzzed in your veins only heightened everything you were feeling, taking in a soft breath when Calum teased your skin with a nibble. Your eyes fluttered as his kisses trailing down started slowly becoming more intense, more playing with your skin with the use of his teeth and tongue, heart leaping in your throat when he chuckled against you. You felt his deep, quiet laughter in his chest against your back. With a squeeze of your hips, Calum murmured, “I can tell you’re already enjoying this.”

You didn’t want to give in too easily—give into what, you weren’t sure—despite leaning your head back just a little against his shoulder, hooded eyes still on the TV as you breathed, “Only a little.”

Calum, of course, took that as a challenge.

He scoffed lightly, bringing his left hand up to cup your right jaw, turning your face towards his as he lifted his head to look at you. The distance between you two was practically nonexistent, and you wondered if his dark, blown out pupils were because of whatever high he may be riding or because of what he was doing to you. You knew yours damn well had to do with him.

There was a boyish, wicked smirk growing on his lips, his hand warm against your cheek, thumb brushing along your lower lip as he leaned in close. You tried to ignore the way your heart jumped when Calum’s lips brushed against yours, just barely, so close but not entirely, as he whispered arrogantly, “You’re a shit liar.”

And then his head was ducking once more, and this time as his lips trailed to your collarbone, you felt the newfound passion behind his kisses—one that you welcomed wholeheartedly.

The enticing burn of his stubble was soothed by the warm press of his lips, only to be teased unforgivingly with his teeth and tongue as he bit and sucked at your skin, determined to leave marks you both knew you’d wear proudly. Your breath caught in your throat, eyes still on the TV but not at all in focus, head leaned back to willingly give Calum access. Your right hand gripped the edge of the couch, digging into the soft material, while the other had a mind of its own and reached up to bury your fingers in the back of Calum’s head, lost in the strands of his curls.

He took his time with the kisses, never dialing back on the fervor, knowing just how much he was picking up your heart rate as he felt your body react to him. It drove him crazy, hearing the small gasps and sharp inhales you sounded every time he added a new mark to paint your skin with, wondering if you could feel just what you were doing to him, too. You could.

Calum’s hand that was gripping your jaw shifted, just a fraction, enough to allow for his thumb to slip past your lips, grip on your thigh tightened when you, without hesitation, wrapped your lips around the thumb and sucked. “Fuck,” Calum groaned breathily, lips dragging on your skin as you didn’t even try to hide the smirk that threatened to grow.

He kissed another mark he left on you before lifting his head, lips no longer on your skin and thumb no longer in your mouth. Your eyes met his dark ones, his no longer glazed from the weed but solely because of you, barely giving you a chance to let out a breath as Calum used the hand that held your jaw to turn you towards him more, closing the gap as his lips that had been teasing your neck for God knows how long finally met yours in a searing, toe curling kiss.

The two of you moved, lips never leaving one anothers as you turned to straddle Calum where he sat, the TV in the background drowned out by the sounds of your sharp breathing as you kissed, suddenly feeling a bit too constrained by the clothes that you both wore. You felt yourself easily getting lost in the feel of Calum’s lips against yours, working perfectly as the kiss deepened and the tongue that had been teasing your neck effortlessly slid against yours. Your fingers gripped the hem of Calum’s shirt, and he easily got the message as he reached behind to grip the material off his back and lift it off of himself completely, the kiss breaking for a brief moment that you used to take off your own tank top.

You grinned lazily at the sight of his unruly curls, messed up by your own fingers and the act of taking off his shirt, biting down on your lower lip as you noticed Calum watching you watch him. The incredulity of this whole situation wasn’t lost on either of you, but it wasn’t something you wanted to think about. That would come later.

So for now, Calum wrapped his arms around your waist before getting up effortlessly with your legs around him, smirking at the startled exclaim that fell past your lips as Calum lowered you onto your back on the couch, getting on his knees above you. Reaching your hand forward, you gripped the pendant of the necklace he wore, tugging him down to connect your lips once more, mouth craving to slant against his as Calum eagerly returned the kiss. He used one hand to plant by your head to keep himself above you, the fingers of the other digging under the band of your leggings and panties and giving them a quick tug downwards.

You couldn’t help the giggle that fell past your lips as you helped him in taking off the offending materials, the kiss breaking as he sat up to rid himself of his own pants. Both of your movements weren’t as frenzy as the pace of your heats, taking your time in ridding the clothes despite the pressing urge to once again close the gap between the two of you.

You looked up at Calum, your breathing heavy, as he sat on his knees between your legs, gaze never leaving yours as he rolled on the condom he’d taken out from his wallet. You wondered if his lips once again craved yours, wondered if his felt electric from the kisses shared while yearning for more, admiring the pinkness of his mouth from treating you so well.

There was a heat firing up your body as Calum openly admired you as well, laying bare all for him. Did he also find this turn of events unexpected? Was he also grateful things had taken this path, just like you were? Because fuck it if you never imagined getting to be with him like this, savoring every piece of him for as long as you could.

He leaned down to kiss you again, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his chest press against yours, gasping into his mouth when his finger teased your slick folds. Calum’s lips curled into a smirk, the rasp of his voice chilling as he groaned at your wetness and mused, “No one could’ve turned you on like this except for me, doll.” Your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails sensually dragging across his skin as he added another finger into you. “Always remember that.”

As if you could ever forget.

You were lucky that Calum took mercy on you, hearing the whimper you released and he swallowed amidst your kiss, pumping his fingers a few times, dragging them against your walls, admiring your tightness before pulling them out and teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock. Being verbal wasn’t something you found yourself capable of, all of the sensations starting from the second Calum had pressed his lips to your neck to now overwhelming you, but you knew Calum and you knew he would wait until you gave him the go ahead.

So you kissed him, tugging at his lower lip with your teeth, the press of his chest against yours syncing your heartbeats, as you begged, “Please, Cal.”

He reveled in the moan you let out as he buried himself inside of you, the kiss breaking as your eyes shut and head tilted back at the sensation of him filling you. Calum dropped his lips to your throat, curls and eyelashes brushing against your skin as he squeezed his own eyes shut at the feel of you around him, snug and right. He cursed under his breath, guttural and blissed, feeling the confirming squeeze you gave his bicep a moment later that allowed him to create a pace that effortlessly drove you both crazy.

One leg on the couch while the foot of the other planted itself on the ground, Calum so easily hit that spot that had your heart jumping and head dizzying. You were overwhelmed by him; by him filling you up so well, by his lips on your throat, by the hand that wasn’t holding him up reaching between the two of you so his thumb could toy with your clit.

Calum lifted his head, taking in the flush of your cheeks and blissed out look in your eyes as you looked up at him through a hooded gaze, and he couldn’t be more entranced if he tried. He smirked breathlessly, nipping at your lower lip, grunts falling past his throat as he praised, “Take me so well, baby. How’s it feel knowin’ only I can get you like this?”

You let out a sharp breath, the urge to feel his lips against you strong as you confirmed breathlessly, “So good,” before kissing him like your life depended on it because, honestly, it felt as though it did.

The familiar coil in the pit of your stomach tightened as Calum kept his pace, thumb still circling your clit, and you knew that Calum knew you well enough at this point. You didn’t realize how well until he urged, “Let go, baby.”

Stars exploded behind your eyelids as you felt yourself do just that, the satisfied, blissed out sounds you let out music to Calum’s ears as his own release soon followed, burying his head in the crook of your neck so you could feel the press of his lips and scratch of his stubble. Even the pendant of his necklace dragging across your skin sent shivers down your spine, the mix of all these heavenly sensations taking over in the best way possible.

Your breathing was labored, as was Calum’s, whimpering softly as he pulled out of you and rid of the condom in the makeshift garbage bag made from one of the empty takeout bags. Calum then picked up the blanket and you lazily shifted over as much as you could towards the back of the couch, letting Calum settle next to you—though you ended up a bit on top of him. Neither of you minded.

You stared up at the ceiling, willing your heart to calm down as you reveled in the warmth of Calum’s bare body against yours in the minimal space your couch offered. The blanket reached up far enough to cover your chest, Calum’s toes just barely peeking out from the other end. He’d propped his head on the armrest, your own laying against his chest as his fingers lightly trailed up and down your arm as his own stayed wrapped around your shoulders. The TV was still on, as was that damned show, though neither of you paid it any attention. How could you, when you’d just done what you did?

Your stomach was still fluttering, lips electric, biting them before breaking the silence between you two. “So I guess nothing was wrong with me. Everyone else just sucked.”

Calum let out a deep chuckle at that as his fingers that had been dancing on your arm trailed over to your neck, brushing against the sensitive spots that were blooming into the bruises he’d intentionally left. Voice a low murmur, the smirk ever present, he responded smugly, “I know.”

You scoffed, lightly smacking his chest with the back of your hand, earning another laugh from him. Reaching your hand up, you took Calum’s that was trailing along your neck and played with his fingers, a thought popping in your head as you bit the inside of your cheek. Watching your fingers play with his, you dared yourself to hum, “Know what I’ve been wondering?”

He allowed you to pull off one of his silver rings before taking it between his fingers and sliding it over your thumb, the only place it’d fit. “What’s that?”

You took a silent breath, preparing yourself as the anticipation started building up without much doing. Tilting your head, you looked up to meet Calum’s curious gaze, his eyebrows quirking at the not-so-innocent smirk tilting at your lips. “If the rumors about your head game are true.”

His eyes darkened and you knew you had his attention—not that you’d ever lost it. And when your smirk widened, biting your lip, Calum’s own wicked one came out to play, already pulling off the blanket to make his way towards your sensitive heat. Your heart jumped, gasping as he got to his knees on the floor and gripped your hips to turn your body towards him, smirking up at you from between your legs as he taunted, “Only one way to find out.”

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @loveroflrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @tea4sykes @wildflowergrae

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crispyjenkins · 4 years

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I dare you to write an Ani5 fix-it fic. I will not be taking criticism and will die on the hill that this is the most powerful ship and could’ve saved the entire clone wars. Bonus points if it features the ship Mace Windu/headaches (bc anakin is a walking mess of shatterpoints and lives to annoy Mace). Codywan to help knock some sense into anakin would also be top tier. I LOVE YOU ZEPH’BUIR

(of course i can’t do a whole fix-it in a quick prompt answer, but i think i’ve set it up for a far happier ending than in canon! support communication and education in relationships (ღ˘⌣˘ღ) and also adhd clones.

fives might be the most i’ve ever struggled with a character (‘cept maybe ahsoka....) so it took a little while to figure out how to write this scene in a way i liked. also, had to go and watch fives clips to try and get my autism brain working, and BOY HOWDY do i actually hate dbb’s take on the clones, especially the accent but everything else too. their character designs make me want to cry. so i’m begging, for me, to imagine this fives like this especially because then we get Tol Anakin and a Smol Clone BF and i think that is a seriously underutilised dynamic.

thank you for the prompt, ad, and for cursing me with this ship in the first place. someday i’ll get around to actually writing them as the battle husbands they are 🧡)

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Echo's always been good with programming, but Fives is better with the actual building. He's not any good with inventing, maybe, but putting things together? Opening them up and knowing immediately what's wrong? Fives would even say he enjoys it — and being able to talk shop with Skywalker like they're nobody mechanics from the Outer Rim instead of General and Soldier makes the long hyperjumps between missions actually bearable.

How that led to him sitting in a rarely used hallway on the Resolute with Skywalker ("Anakin," he keeps insisting with a smile), both leant over a mouse droid in pieces on a drop cloth, Fives isn't really sure. It probably had something to do with Skywalker's excited bounce when he'd come to ask if Fives wanted to help him, the sparkle in his eye reminding Fives just how young the both of them are. How, technically, he's older than Anakin.

Because, yeah, he is Anakin, not Skywalker, when they're like this. With his growing knight cut a curly untamed cloud around his ears, grease smeared on the underside of his jaw, with Fives stripped down to his blacks from the waist up, with even his blasters set on the floor next to them.

With it quickly becoming clear that Anakin doesn't actually need help to rewire the mouse droid, but had asked for Fives to join him anyways.

They've been at it for a few hours now, their jokes winding down to companionable quiet as they both work on separate parts of the droid. It honestly might have been easier to start from a scrap droid than try to rewire this one correctly, but it's easy work Fives could do blindfolded, and sharing the mutually-focused silence is actually quite nice.

Anakin is elbow-deep in the outer casing when he finally asks, "Do the clones feel love?"

And Fives almost gets up and walks away. He knows not every battalion ended up with a good Jedi, that the 212th and the 501st had been so kriffing lucky to end up with "The Team", but sometimes he forgets. Maybe that's the worst part of it: slow, personal moments like this, Fives forgets he's not natborn and bearer of a face shared with millions. Being around his general makes him forget, and maybe he had taken that for granted until now.

Or maybe it's for that reason that he hesitates from storming off, because Anakin had been the one to name Alpha, to insist on giving them proper leave, to defend them from anyone who talks down at them even if they're a planetary leader. And Rex had said something, once, about Anakin’s brain working in either/ors, being hardwired in some way to only see in black and white and believing that if you're one thing, you can't be another. That what Anakin says isn't always what he means.

So instead, he asks, "What kind of love are we talkin'?"

Anakin refuses to raise his head, and Fives can almost see him stressing about how to phrase this. "Y'know, grand romance and stuff. One-and-onlys and holodrama romcom propaganda and imagining growing old together."

"'Not quite sure what you're asking, sir." He takes a deep breath. "The short answer is yes, we can and do feel that, but the long answer is I can't speak for every brother, and I would not want to. Some of us don't feel that." Shrugging, he passes Anakin a socket wrench before he can ask for it. "But it's not because we can't, not because of the longnecks. We're bred to be obedient, sir, not emotionless."

Quiet settles over them again while Anakin processes this, his mouth twisted rather horribly. Fives starts to think he would do a whole awful lot to turn that frown back into a haughty smile.

"What do you really want to ask, General?"

"I'm married to Senator Amidala."

Now, everyone with eyes knows that. Maybe Torrent knows even better, when they've been covering for their general for over a year now, and clearly the Jedi just aren't doing anything about it — but Fives also knows Anakin has never actually told anyone about this, not even General Kenobi. Rex says Anakin still thinks they've been discreet.

"If I may be blunt, sir, this is not news."

And Anakin actually laughs at that, shaking his head as he tosses down his tools to stare at the opposite wall instead. Fives watches his gaze go distant, somewhere far away from the Resolute lost in the middle of space. “I’ve loved her since I was nine years old, Fives. I loved her through not seeing her for a decade, through her assassination attempts and the First Battle of Geonosis and becoming a knight, and I...”

Fives sighs once. “No one said you had to stay in love, sir.”

“But that’s just it,” he groans. “I’ve never known how to do anything else, how to be anything else. I don’t... know who I am without it.”

He has to look away from Anakin, then, because he’s seen brothers go stupid for people they meet on campaigns, or for their Jedi, and Fives isn’t nearly as young as some of the shinies out there, but he knows what it looks like, when they leap in without thinking. He lets out a long, slow breath, his eyes falling on the ‘saber at Anakin’s hip. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Anakin blinks at him, and nods.

“That’s too young to decide what you want to do for the rest of your life.” Fives raises a brow at his general’s startled expression, which is maybe more amusing (endearing) than it has any business being. “General, you’re barely an adult, just the same as the vode. If my mental timeline is right, you weren’t even twenty standard when you married Amidala, which, frankly, was reckless and unfair on her part.”

“Padmé would never–”

“I don’t mean intentionally, sir. The fact of the matter is, no wonder you don’t know who you are without her, because you’ve always had her.” That decade of no contact notwithstanding, considering Anakin didn’t not have her, either. “Senator Amidala knew who and what she was before you, and she’ll know who and what she is without you.”

“That’s not quite fair,” Anakin grumbles, but his throat is flushed in what Fives hopes is entirely appropriate guilt, or at the very least embarrassment. “It was my idea to get married after Geonosis.”

Fives snorts. “The idea of a child thrown into war, afraid to lose anything.”

“You’re being uncharacteristically candid, Fives.”

“Respectfully, sir, the last thing you need is to be coddled.” His general laughs again, this time good and bright in a way he hasn’t heard before; and then Fives can’t help what he admits next. “We weren’t allowed toys, or anything.”

Laughter cutting off abruptly, Anakin’s eyes grow haunted instead. There might not be anyone else in the galaxy with quite the same experience as the clones, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t those that understand.

“Hevy made me and Echo– Well, he said they were mythosaurs like Kal taught us about, but they looked more like sad loth cats. He cut up his own bedsheet to make ‘em, and couldn’t tell the longnecks what he’d done with it, so he just slept on the bare mattress.”

“Fives...”

But it’s clear Anakin doesn’t actually know what to say, so Fives pushes on. “Some of Fett’s instructors tried to teach us Mando’a, you know? I think Spar is the only brother that ever got fluent, the rest of us have been making up words and combining them with Basic and Kaminoan and whatever else the Cuy’val Dar spoke that sometimes we don’t even remember what language they are anymore.”

“I didn’t learn Basic until I was five.” Anakin thunks his head onto the wall behind him with a sigh, the mouse droid forgotten at his feet. “Other padawans always told me I was lucky Master Obi-Wan knew Huttese.” Ahh, kark, his general had been a Hutt salve; at least the spice runners made sure their slaves could communicate with their customers. “I couldn’t read a word of Aurebesh when I first came to the Temple, though to be fair, I couldn’t read anything else, either.”

“You grow up around other kids?”

“Yeah, my mom and I lived in the biggest slave slum on Tatooine.”

Fives doesn’t need to tell him how lucky he was just to have had their own quarters. “I think, sir, that the vode know better than you think, what it’s like always standing on the edge of losing everything.”

Squeezing his eyes closed, Anakin inhales sharply and clenches his fists over his knees. “What happened? To your mythosaur toys?”

“One of the longnecks found them while we were in training, ‘threw them out before we got back. I think Hevy was even more upset than we were.”

The leather glove over his prosthesis creaks as he tightens his grip on his own palms. “Was it easy? To just... forget about them?”

“Of course not,” Fives snorts and crosses his arms, “we were the equivalent of eight standard at the time, but we honestly didn’t have a choice. As we got a little older, we stopped trying to put meaning in things, because we weren’t allowed things. Our names are our only real possession, even our armor can be taken from us, but we will not, cannot, let anyone take our names.”

Groaning, Anakin scrubs his hands over his face before pushing himself up to finally look at Fives properly. He still doesn’t speak for a moment, just watching him, then teases flatly, “You’ve been spending too much time with Cody and Obi-Wan, you’re starting to speak in riddles.”

“They are riddles only to you, sir.” He offers a small smile, and is only slightly disappointed when Anakin doesn’t return it.

Instead, he lets out a winded breath. “So. You’re saying that it’s not easy to let go of even small things, but we must. And then there are things that we shouldn’t let go of?”

“Some things aren’t ours to keep.”

Anakin swallows. “Like Padmé,”

“Like any person, no matter what sort of love we have for them.”

Groaning, Anakin pulls his knees back up close and drops his face into his arms. “But I still love her.”

Knowing that this is not a new problem, that General Kenobi has been trying to teach his general this for as long as they’ve known each other, Fives takes a moment to consider. “You don’t really have to stop loving her.”

“But you said–”

“You think I stop loving my brothers when they die?”

Whether or not it’s healthy to hold onto affections for someone after a romantic relationship is a conversation for another time, Fives decides, and leans over to pick up where Anakin had left off with the droid.

“General, it sounds to me like you already know all this,” he says, twisting a wire into the grip of his glove to yank it from the motor. “And that you’re digging your feet in — which is the crux of the problem, isn’t it?”

“You sound like Obi-Wan,” he groans, but doesn’t deny it.

“Hmm, well, at least we’re still just kids.”

Anakin very slowly looks up from his arms, just enough for Fives to see his wide eyes. “What do you...?”

“Well, we’ve still got time to learn, don’t we?” Fives raises his eyebrow as he fits the new wire into the motor and starts to close all the panels back up. “I still think about Hevy and Droidbait and Cutup, and honestly, I still think about Echo’s and my mythosaurs. That’s not a bad thing, I don’t think, not even the Jedi would think that’s bad. I’m still angry when my vode don’t get funerals and I honestly hold that against the Chancellor and the Jedi both. But I don’t get to go back to Kamino and take my anger out on the longneck that took our toys, and I’m... working on it, not being so angry with the generals. I’m still angry. But I know the Jedi have about as much say in all of this as we do, and I know burying my brothers won’t bring them back. So I’m working on it.”

“I... don’t have to be good at it all at once.”

“Great Maker, General, just because you’re the Chosen One doesn’t mean you have to actually be good at absolutely everything from the start. You just have to try, and you still have time to.”

He looks up and finds Anakin already smiling back. “Fives, I could kiss you.”

“Considering it sounds like Senator Amidala just divorced you, I think that’s a very bad idea, sir.”

“Bah, you’re no fun.”

Fives feigns offense, “This mouse droid we’ve rigged to follow Captain Rex around and scream says differently.”

The night the 501st returns to the Resolute after finally (kriffing finally) leaving Umbara, Fives finds a hand-sewn stuffed mythosaur on his bunk, with a string collar and a dogtag etched with CT-782.

Mando’a: Cuy’val Dar — “Those who no longer exist”, group of 75 Mando’ade and 25 others put together by Jango to train the clones vod/e — “brother/s, comrade/s, sibling/s”, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brother/s” (*in this context, fives is using brothers as gender neutral as well, because you won’t take trans and nb clones even from my cold dead hands*)

#prompt fill #crispy writes #ani5 #anakin/fives #no really what's their ship name #prequel trilogy #clone wars #pre-relationship #but they're getting there lads #cw slavery #clone culture #domino squad #past anidala #very recently past lmao #anakin skywalker #trooper fives #mando'a #is it really childhood if you've never been allowed to be a child #but seriously dbb is sort of fucking awful as the clones #like i love the man he's been in almost every cartoon i've ever cared about #but good lord it's like he wasn't even trying to act #anyways #theclonewarsbrokeme #rare pair #like.... never seen anything for this kind of rare pair...#wanna write more about them adhd stimming together #and being worried babs on the battlefield #cause unlike ships like codywan or rexwalker or skysolo #ani5 would have NO problem being obvious as fuck about their worry and affection #they wouldn't even try to hide it

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