rentheartdragon · 2 years ago
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I posted 72 times in 2022
That's 25 more posts than 2021!
46 posts created (64%)
26 posts reblogged (36%)
I tagged 57 of my posts in 2022
Only 21% of my posts had no tags
#art - 14 posts
#amphibia - 12 posts
#drawing - 11 posts
#amphibia spoilers - 9 posts
#the owl house - 8 posts
#digital art - 7 posts
#ryders art - 7 posts
#toh - 6 posts
#personal art - 5 posts
#rens doddles - 5 posts
Longest Tag: 91 characters
#i havent named them or given any features to them i just wanted to draw something different
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
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This doddle bad but gay ass newt
25 notes - Posted May 6, 2022
#4
Finally joined the bandwagon
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31 notes - Posted August 25, 2022
#3
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Cuz your my Frankenstein And I’m your monster🎶
Still image version (better quality) (((now you can see all my mistakes/lh)
See the full post
32 notes - Posted July 2, 2022
#2
The end Is here
See you on the other side old friend
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@amphibiasupernova
59 notes - Posted May 14, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Luz drawing bc Toh is taking over my life
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60 notes - Posted September 25, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
2 notes · View notes
tobesolonely · 4 years ago
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apartment 41
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hi y’all! this is my very VERY late submission for @meetmeinfleetwood​ ‘s “To Lovers” challenge (thank u miss sadie for even still accepting this LOL) but here is some good ol fashioned strangers to lovers with the line, “will you stay the night?” . :D enjoy everyone!
warnings: mentions of alcohol, intoxication, smut :)
word count: ~5.2k
my ko-fi! thank you :)
There were many things you loved about living on your own. You loved that your apartment was always clean. You loved that at the end of a long day, you could come back and brood in peace. You loved walking around in nothing but your underwear without the fear of anyone seeing you. You did things when you wanted, how you wanted. As a self-proclaimed introvert, there was nothing you loved more than living by yourself.
However, during slightly inconvenient moments like these, you wished you had someone else in the apartment with you.
You swore you’d been trying to get your favorite jar of pasta sauce open for at least the past ten minutes. It had been a long day at work, and at the moment all you wanted to do was heat the entire jar of sauce, boil a bunch of pasta, and call it a night. You were growing beyond frustrated���– you even contemplated just breaking the jar open. Ultimately, you decided against it lest you be met with a mouthful of glass.
Feeling defeated, you pick up your phone in frustration and hurriedly punch in your father’s number. The phone rings twice before he answers. “Hello? What’s up, hun?”
“Dad, what should I do if I can’t get this jar open? Like, it’s seriously glued shut,” you set it down on the counter probably a little too hard considering it was a glass jar. “I’m so hungry.”
“Did you try running it under hot water?”
You did.
“Hm. Try getting a good grip on it with a dish towel or something?”
Of course, you did.
“Well, I’m not driving over there just to open a jar for you,” your dad pauses. “You have neighbors, don’t you? Why don’t you knock on one of their doors?”
“Isn’t that weird?”
“No weirder than asking to borrow a cup of sugar.”
You thank your dad for the suggestion and hang up with him shortly after. He was right. You just needed someone to quickly open the jar for you and then you’d be back in your apartment, secluded from society until the next morning when you went into work. Besides, you’d been in your apartment for roughly three months now and you didn’t have a relationship with any of your neighbors. You figured now was as good a time as any to at least meet the person who lived directly across from you.
You slide on your slippers and clear the few steps it takes to reach your neighbor’s door. A faded ‘41’ was on their door, and a cheeky mat that read, ‘Did you call first?’ was at your feet.
You tried racking your brain for any memory of what your neighbor may look like, but you were drawing a blank. You were more to yourself than you initially thought you were and made a silent vow to become more social from this point on. You situate the jar of pasta sauce under your arm before placing two firm knocks against the door. Moments later, the door is flung open and you’re met with the smell of something delicious cooking, and a handsome, tall man donning a dirty apron.
“Hi, is everything alright?” he has a concerned look on his face as he looks over the top of your head and into your apartment.
“I— This is a little embarrassing,” you mumble, feeling your body grow warm. “I live by myself and I’ve been trying to get this jar of pasta sauce open for at least twenty minutes and I can’t. Do you think you can?”
His mouth slowly turns upwards into a smile before finally nodding, reaching out his hand to grab the jar of pasta sauce from you. “It’s pasta night at your place too, hmm?” His tongue is poked out of the corner of his mouth as he focuses on the task at hand.
“Yeah,” you reply. “I’m just gonna heat up the entire jar of sauce, boil some spaghetti noodles, and call it a night.”
The pop! of the jar causes you to jump slightly. “That doesn’t sound like very good pasta.”
You retrieve the pasta sauce from him, quietly thanking him. “It gets the job done.”
Your neighbor hums in agreement. “‘M sure it does. If you ever wanna taste some really good pasta though, y’know where I’ll be.”
“I do,” you nod. “Well, thank you again. I’ll let you go back to making your pasta sauce that is just way better than mine.”
He lets out a loud laugh. “I appreciate it. It wasn’t any problem at all, I’m here most evenings if you ever need help opening anything else, uh…” He trails off.
“Y/N.”
“Y/N. Beautiful name. I’m Harry, by the way.”
You look down at the dirty hallway carpet, a wide smile on your face. “Thank you, Harry. It was nice to finally meet you, by the way.”
“You too. Have a good night.”
You give him one more smile before turning on your heels and walking back inside your apartment, gently shutting the door. You quickly look out the peephole and catch him just as he’s closing his door, a dimpled-grin on his face.
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It was Friday night when you finally got the chance to speak with him again. You were sitting on your kitchen stool nursing a glass of wine and waiting for your frozen pizza to heat in the oven when you heard someone coming down the hallway. As you had been doing all week since your interaction with Harry, you set your glass of wine down and shuffle over to your peephole, eyes scanning the small amount of hallway that was visible.
Harry comes into view seconds later, four overflowing bags of groceries precariously balanced along the length of his arms.
“Fuck.” You hear him mutter to himself. He attempts to reach in his pocket for his keys but once he realizes he can’t do so without setting at least one bag of groceries down, he lets out a loud huff in what you assume to be annoyance. You scuttle to your shoe rack and slip your shoes on before quickly flinging your door open.
“Hi! Need help?”
Harry jumps and you both watch as the contents of the bag he was getting ready to set down spill at his feet. “Now I do,” he’s already picking his groceries off the floor. “You scared the shit out of me. Also, were you watching me?”
Your face grows warm. “I heard someone coming down the hallway so I wanted to see who it was.”
“Oh, really?” Harry questions, pausing to look up at you. “You came out of your place so quickly, felt like I was bein’ watched or something.”
You know he’s teasing you but you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed that he caught onto what you were doing so quickly. Instead of dignifying his statement with an answer, you bend down and begin helping him pick up his spilled groceries. His hand grazes yours lightly as you both reach for a can of black beans, now slightly dented. It lingers for a moment before he retracts it to retrieve a different item. A quick, side-eyed glance reveals that his cheeks are tinged red.
“What are you making for dinner?” You ask him, standing up and dusting off the knees of your leggings.
“Uh, veggie chili. S’one of my favorites–– hey, is something burning?”
Your eyes widen and you abruptly turn away from Harry without so much as a goodbye, hurrying toward your kitchen that was starting to grow foggy from smoke produced by your oven. You were so preoccupied with helping Harry gather up his spilled groceries that you had totally forgotten you had a frozen pizza in the oven and if the smell was any indication of its current state, it was most likely inedible at this point.
Reaching for the oven mitt you kept next to the knives on the counter, you open the oven and fan the smoke out of your face, holding back a gag from the burnt smell. Your fire alarm immediately goes off once you open the oven and Harry appears a second later, a concerned look on his face. He looks around for your smoke detector and once he sees it he stands on his tiptoes to turn it off. You set your now blackened pizza on top of the oven and turn on the microwave fan. Harry’s already opening windows around your apartment, fanning the air with a throw pillow from your couch.
“Thanks,” you mumble, a wave of embarrassment washing over your body. You feared that Harry probably thought you were the most incompetent person on this planet–– first, you couldn’t get a jar open, and now here you are nearly setting your apartment on fire. “Guess I should’ve set a timer, huh?”
“Yeah, ‘spose you should’ve,” he replies. “It’s okay, though. ‘M about to get started on dinner, you can join me? If you’d like, that is. Maybe you’ll have a new recipe so you can stop eatin’ all this frozen shit.”
“Leave my frozen foods out of this,” you playfully scold him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Thank you for the invite though, that would be great, actually. I’m gonna get this cleaned up and then I’ll be right over?”
“Sounds good,” he neatly situates your pillow back on the couch. “I’ll see you in a bit, Y/N. Door will be unlocked.”
Once Harry’s gone, you move into action, quickly tossing the pizza into the trashcan before running to your bathroom. You try to remember if you brushed your teeth earlier that day but you can’t, so you brush them again just to be safe. You hastily examine yourself in the mirror before deciding you weren’t going to do anything more, not wanting to come off as trying too hard. You were almost one hundred percent certain Harry was just being neighborly–– nothing indicated that he found you attractive, so you didn’t want to make it too obvious that you found him to be the most stunning man you’ve ever seen in your life.
Locking your door, you clear the distance from your welcome mat to his in five steps flat, and take a deep breath before letting yourself in.
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It didn’t take long for you to realize that Harry had more skill in the kitchen than an everyday home-chef did. He all but floated around the room, chopping with ease and finesse. The two of you had settled into a comfortable silence as he worked and you watched. Billy Joel played softly over his Bluetooth speaker, and he’d occasionally stop what he was doing to take a sip of his wine and look over his shoulder at you, almost as if he was checking if you were still there because you were being so quiet.
Your head was starting to grow fuzzy as you finished your third glass of wine that night, so you make the (responsible) decision to cut yourself off for the night. “Can I have a glass of water?”
“Course y’can,” he replies quietly, not stopping what he was doing. “Give me just a second and I’ll get ya––”
“Oh, I can get it myself. Just tell me where the cups are.”
Harry stops chopping and turns completely to face you, an amused look on his face. “You’re plastered, aren’t ya?”
“No? Why do you think that?”
Harry laughs. “You can’t hear yourself stumblin’ over your words, but I can. Jus’ stay right there and I’ll get your water. You want ice?”
“How do you know how to cook so well?”
“Culinary school,” he responds coolly. “Ice?”
You’re not sure if you are as drunk as Harry says you are, but you were currently finding the fact that Harry went to culinary school the coolest thing ever. “A chef? No way! What kind of chef?”
“I’m a Sous Chef. Gonna give ya a bit of ice.”
“I can’t believe I live across from a chef! No wonder you were giving me shit for eating canned pasta sauce,” you take the glass of water from Harry’s outstretched hand, thanking him. “Even your water tastes better than mine!”
“I think you’re just pissed, Y/N,” Harry responds, eyes crinkled from smiling. “Do y’like cooked carrots?” Your nose wrinkles in response to Harry’s question and he mutters something about how he’ll leave them out before turning back towards the stove to check on his food.
“How old are you, Harry?”
“Just turned twenty-seven. Yourself?”
“I’m twenty-four!” You exclaim, a little too excited. “Where are you from?”
He turns to look at you, eyebrow raised. “England. What gave it away?”
“Your accent.”
He hums, a small smirk on his lips. “Where are you from?”
“I’m from here. Just moved back home from my college town but didn’t wanna move back in with my parents, so here I am.”
“No roommates, you said?”
“Nope,” you pop the ‘p’, taking a big gulp of water. “You don’t either, do you? I just realized I haven’t heard or seen anyone else since I’ve been here.”
“I do not. I had a roommate when I first moved in but he ended up gettin’ engaged and moving in with his fiancée, so it’s just me for now. I think I like livin’ on my own better, though.” You watch as Harry reaches into his cabinet and retrieves two bowls and starts spooning your dinner into them. He sets the bowl in front of you and hands you a spoon, nodding at you to try it.
You bring a spoonful up to your mouth, blowing a few times before shoving it into your mouth. Your eyes widen at the amazing flavor that fills your mouth, and your eyes diverge to his. “This is incredible!”
Harry looks down at his bowl of food, a shy grin on his face. “Thanks, Y/N. Glad you like it.” He grabs his glass of wine from behind him and moves around to the other side of the island to sit next to you.
“Are you a vegetarian?” You ask, mouth full.
“Somewhat. I’m a pescatarian,” he shovels a spoonful of the chili into his mouth. “More wine?”
“I better not,” you reply, mind still fuzzy from all you’ve drunk throughout the night. “This is seriously so good, Harry. You’re cute, you can cook, you’re nice… you’re like, a triple threat!”
“Callin’ me cute?”
“C’mon, you know you are,” you answer boldly. “I’m just stating the obvious.”
“Thank you, Y/N,” he takes a sip of wine. “You’re a pretty big looker yourself.”
“Are you flirting with me?”
“You flirted with me first.”
“So what if I did?”
Harry lets out a quiet scoff, going back to eating his food. After a moment he says, “I wouldn’t mind.” You smile to yourself and continue eating, bringing the bowl up to your lips and tipping your head back so you could get every last drop of Harry’s veggie chili. He gets up to get another helping of food as you get up to place your bowl in the sink, lifting your sleeves to wash it.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says as he brushes past you, going back to where he was previously seated. “I’ll clean up later. Do y’want some dessert?”
“I think I will take some more wine,” you grab the bottle from the center of the island along with your glass, pouring a generous amount. “This is good. Nothing like the cheap bottles I get from Target.”
“I’m glad you like it. Thought I’d pull this one out tonight, always pairs well with dishes like this…” He trails off. “Anyway, yeah. Glad y’like it.”
You and Harry finish off the bottle of wine no more than thirty minutes later, having by now situated yourselves on his couch. He turned something onto the television (you think it was Iron Chef), but neither one of you were paying any attention to it. Harry was asking about what you studied in college, how you like your current career and your favorite things to do in your free time. You were asking him about England, his family back home, and why he chose to go to culinary school.
He has a way about him that captivates you— just completely pulls you in— and you never want to stop listening to him speak. Harry leans close to you when you talk, almost as if you’re telling him a secret that he doesn’t want to miss out on.
“I think ‘m jus’ as drunk as you are now,” Harry whispers, letting out an adorable giggle. “Goin’ into work tomorrow is gonna be a proper pain.”
“No one told you to try and outdrink me!” You yell, tucking your knees under your bottom. “Now we’re both drunk, what good does that do?”
“Think it’s more fun this way, don’t you?” Harry lets out a little burp, his face flushing. “Wanna help me clean the kitchen?”
“What happened to cleaning it later?” You stand up from the couch, wobbling slightly before catching your balance.
“Well, I didn’t think we’d get drunk off our arses and sit here talkin’ til one in the mornin’, did you?” He stands up as well, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back as he scooches past you.
“There’s no way it’s that late,” you retort, checking the time on your phone. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to overextend my stay. I’ll help you clean this place up and then get going.”
Harry swats a hand in front of his face, shaking his head. “Overextend your stay? Of course y’didn’t, more than happy to have you here. Do you wanna wash or dry?”
“I’ll wash since I don’t know where anything goes.” You move to the sink and roll up your sleeves, moving the small number of dishes in the sink all to one side so you can fill the other side with water. Silence falls over you again as you clean the dishes from dinner and soon enough you’re done, drying your hands on your t-shirt.
“Thank you, Y/N. We make a good team, huh? Got that done quickly, didn’t we?” He folds the dishtowel in half neatly and hangs it over the handle of his oven.
“Yeah,” you yawn, slipping on your shoes that had been discarded earlier in the night by the door. “I’ll get out your hair and let you get to bed, then. Thank you for having me over and for cooking that delicious dinner, I enjoyed it. I owe you.”
“If it’s frozen food, don’t worry about it,” he jokes, moving to open the door for you. “If you want to cook me something, though…”
“How about I take you out for dinner? I stay out of the kitchen, and you’ll get something edible and halfway decent. A win-win?”
Harry laughs. “‘M lookin’ forward to it. Goodnight, Y/N.”
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“I couldn’t decide between Italian or sushi but since you’re a pescetarian, I figured sushi was our best bet.”
Harry looks away from the menu and at you, clearing his throat before speaking. “That was really thoughtful. Surprised you remembered considering how loaded you were.”
“For the last time, I was not that drunk,” you defend yourself, gently kicking his calf from underneath the table. “By the end of the night, you had way more than me!”
“Maybe so,” he replies nonchalantly, looking back at the menu. “Let’s not forget who can handle their alcohol better, though.”
You let out an indignant hmph, and get to scouring the menu yourself. You didn’t eat sushi very often so you figured you’d probably just get whatever Harry got.
“Let’s do sake bombs.”
Harry raises an eyebrow. “Sake bombs? Are you tryin’ to get me drunk again?”
“They’re fun! Just one?”
Harry shakes his head at you and grins before waving over the waitress, asking her politely for two sake bombs. She comes back a few minutes later with the alcohol and chopsticks balanced precariously on a tray, setting them in front of you and Harry respectively.
The waitress stands back and says, “Ichi… ni… san… sake bomb!” The two of you pound the table until your shot glasses fall into the cup and then you throw your heads back, chugging down the cocktail. When you finally finish chugging your drink and look back up at Harry, he’s staring at his watch as if he’s been waiting for you to finish for ages.
“Oh, you’re finally done? I was startin’ to grow old,” he teases, taking a sip of his water. “Do you know what you wanna order?”
“You’re annoying,” you reply, narrowing your eyes at him. “But I’m gonna get whatever you get.”
“Really? You don’t have any preferences?”
You shake your head. “I don’t eat sushi very often so I honestly don’t know what I should get. I’ll try anything, though.”
“You really did pick this place just for me, didn’t you?” He has a teasing tone to his voice, but his gaze has softened.
“I told you I owed you, didn’t I?”
At this, Harry just gives you a small smirk and signals the waitress over once again to order for the both of you. While you wait for your food to come, you fall into easy conversation with Harry again. It seems like you can talk about anything under the sun with him–– no topic was off-limits, and nothing was awkward. He had to have been one of the most interesting people you’ve ever met in your life. He was well-traveled, knew several languages, and loved to sing and write music in his spare time. Although you felt your own life was rather boring in comparison to his, he made you feel just as accomplished and interesting as he was.
“That was good,” he tells you after you’ve both finished eating, wiping his mouth with his napkin and slouching in his chair slightly. “Think ‘m gonna need to unbutton my pants here in a second.”
“Me too,” you answer with a laugh, making eye contact with the waitress. You mouth, ‘check, please’ and she nods, reappearing at your table with the check. As you’re digging in your purse to pull out your wallet, Harry reaches over and grabs the check before you can even look at it. He reaches in his pants pocket for his wallet and slides his card in before you’ve even looked back up.
“What are you doing?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Did you forget that I’m the one that owes you?” He shrugs.
“You can make it up to me another way. Don’t worry about it,” his voice is low and gravelly. The waitress comes back to collect the check from Harry and after he receives his receipt, he reaches into his wallet to place a cash tip for her on the table. “Ready to get home?”
Home. You know he only worded it that way because you live directly across from him, but you would like going “home home” with Harry, at least for tonight. There was no denying the sexual tension between the two of you was electric–– anyone who was paying attention to the two of you could probably sense it. You wordlessly nod and follow Harry out of the restaurant, intertwining your fingers with his when he holds his hand back for you to grab.
He stands on the curb and expertly hauls a cab, opening the door and gesturing your in ahead of him. Harry’s hand moves to rest on your leg as he makes small-talk with the taxi driver, asking him if he was having a busy night and how much longer he thought he’d be out for. Harry pays the cab fare and wishes the driver a good rest of his night before all but dragging you out of the taxi.
“What’s got you in such a rush?” You ask Harry, a teasing
“Oh? Did I misread the situation? I thought–– this is embarrassing, never mind…” his tight grip loosens on your hand but you pull him back into you, laughing at how adorable he was.
“Harry! I’m joking, I know what’s going on,” you rub your thumb across the top of his. “I was just messing with you.” You see him visibly let out a sigh of relief.
“Don’t mess with me like that, Y/N!” You’re still standing outside of your apartment complex in the dark, as close to one another as you can be without completely melting into each other. He releases his hand from your tight grip and places it gently on your face instead. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”
“Please,” you reply breathlessly, standing on your toes. Harry cranes his neck to meet your lips and presses them to yours softly, pulling back only when the both of you are near gasping for air.
“Was that nice?” He asks, thumb caressing your face. Your noses are pressed together and you just nod, still too breathless to speak. “Maybe we can take this inside, then?”
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Once inside Harry’s apartment, he nearly rips off the new shirt you bought specifically for your date with him, discarding it by his door.
“Careful with that,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I just got that today. Tag is still onnit.”
You feel Harry laugh into the side of your neck, walking your backward towards his couch. “I’ll cover the cost if it’s ruined then, how’s tha’?”
Harry sucks harshly on your neck, causing you to let out a low moan. “I guess that’s fine.”
“That’s fine?” Harry mocks you, guiding you onto the coach. You hum in agreement as you sink further down into the couch, letting out a sigh of bliss as he peppered kisses along your breast.
Your movements are needy— desperate. Neither one of you were trying to hide how badly you wanted to fuck the other. Harry smashing his lips onto yours once more, his breath warm and tongue salty from all the sushi he had earlier consumed. He attempts to pull his own shirt from his body while not breaking the kiss, and you let out a satisfied hum when he succeeds. Now you’re both shirtless and the only thing stopping you from fucking each other proper is being still fully clothed on your bottom halves.
“Can we get these off?” You ask, tugging at your own bottoms. Harry helps you pull down your tight jeans, struggling slightly to get them off your sweaty legs. Once your jeans are off your underwear follows immediately after, carelessly strewn around the room like the rest of your clothing.
“Y/N…” Harry hungrily takes the sight of your body in, eyes darkening with lust. “You might be the death of me, did ya know that?”
“I do now.”
He sucks on his index and middle fingers and lowers them down to your core, slipping them inside you with ease. You hadn’t realized how wet you were until Harry was knuckles deep, curling his fingers tantalizingly slow inside of you. “Do ya?”
You bite down hard on your lip, nodding at Harry’s rhetorical question. “Obviously.”
He flips the two of you over, so that you’re now straddling him and he’s laying below you. “Take what you want, then–– oh wait, condom?” You nod and move as Harry digs around in his pants, pulling out his wallet.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that keeps a condom in their wallet.”
He rips it open with his teeth in one swift motion and unbuckles his pants, giving himself a couple of quick strokes before sliding it on. “What if I am? Was quick and effective, wasn’t it?” He rests his hands on your hips and pulls you back on top of him, connecting his lips with yours again. “Now you can take what you want.”
Your hands move up to grip Harry’s shoulders as you slowly sink onto him, wincing at the stretch and burn an unfamiliar partner sometimes brings. You make eye contact with Harry as you take a moment to adjust to his size, noting how his grip on your hips gets even tighter.
“S’big,” you mutter, rolling your hips slightly. Below you, Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “So big.”
“Tell me how badly you want it.”
“You already know. Don’t feel like being teased.”
Harry juts his hips up to meet you slamming down onto him, groaning out loudly from the pleasure the added motion brings. At one point he situates himself so he’s sitting straight up, using his left hand as a support for him to rest back on while his right hand is tweaking at your nipples. He’s letting out a slew of curse words, letting you know it felt just as good for him as it did for you.
“Ridin’ m’cock so good,” he says under his breath, bringing the hand that was playing with your nipples to rest in between your legs. Whenever you slam back onto him you feel him not only deep in the pit of your stomach but also on your clit, bringing you maximum pleasure. “Don’t be so quiet, let me know when ‘m makin’ you feel good, love.”
“I’m already close,” you admit, feeling a bit embarrassed at how it took Harry doing next to nothing to work an orgasm out of you. Well, not literally–– but it felt like it. “Feel s’good inside me, you’re so big.”
Harry lets out a low moan from your words, throwing his head back in pleasure. It hits the arm of his couch with a quiet thump but his pace doesn’t falter in the slightest. “You’re gonna make me cum if ya keep strokin’ my ego like that.”
“You asked for it,” you reply, changing your move from riding to grinding as you were starting to grow fatigued. “I’m close.” You remove your hands from his shoulders and let them roam the expanse of your body, wanting nothing more than to receive maximum pleasure.
“Can feel ya squeezin’ ‘round me,” Harry says, taking his lip in between his teeth. “Know you’re about to come, pet.”
"Harry..." you warn, your movements growing more desperate and sloppy. You weren't normally a selfish lover but your head was so clouded from pleasure, all you could think about at the moment was your release. Harry leans his head back on the couch again and now uses his two free hands to bring you to orgasm–– one is rubbing circles on your clit and the other one is gripping at your breasts as you use your last bit of strength to swivel your hips on him.
You're coming undone not ten seconds later, loudly moaning out the man's name who laid under you. You don't slow your movements, knowing he was right behind you.
"Y/N, fuck, 'm gonna come-" he lets out a low, guttural moan, coming immediately after announcing it.
The sounds of you trying to steady your breathing are the only sounds that fills the room as you both come down from your respective highs. Harry runs his hands along your bare body, eyes hooded from the orgasm that just wracked his body. As you’re beginning to uncurl yourself from Harry, he grabs your hand, pulling you back down.
“Will you stay the night?”
You didn’t know what sleeping with Harry meant for your relationship going forward, but you were glad you knocked on Apartment 41. 
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yanderecandystore · 4 years ago
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How about some yandere!giant headcannons please?
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(Yes I took the lazy route when drawing this, and if you see people you don't recognize it's because I decided to put my friends in it-)
(( I also had drawn Mikudayo and Miko because I just thought it was funny to make them considering the time I had mistaken them for each other-))
TW/tags: gender neutral reader // I'm gonna make the giant male because you didn't really say giantess? So I'm assuming it's male/gender neutral pronouns // being treated like a doll/pet // kidnapping // language barrier cause I'm yearning- // very generic giant story // delusional thinking // slight stockholm syndrome
🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭
Don't even ask me, y'all read about eldritch creatures so a giant is literally no big deal- [Yandere!Giant x Reader - Headcanon]:
Oh dear, oh goodie, oh Lord-
Does anyone need a bit of context? Maybe a little storyline to start with? I could just go straight to the good stuff though??
Listen- I could pull out so many mother fucking posts under the category of Yandere Giants- Almost all Eldritch content in my blog involves the height difference of: vewy tol x vewy smol UwU
Anyway- Malos, the giant of our story. I'm going to go very generically since I didn't want to say something that could possibly not be of your taste boo-
Malos is your classic troublemaking giant, the type of which you would hear about in fairy tales created to scare the human folk all around your kingdom. All those stories talked about the world beyond the clouds, the giant's kingdom, living their lives in wealth, very far from the ground below where humans (their "favorite delicacy", allegedly) lived.
The one thing that all those stories shared in common was the violent behavior of the tyrants above, their arrogant and greedy nature mixed with the horrifying sightings of giants who would somehow find their way to get on land, specifically targeting a small town to torment. Many have said to have faced a big beast walking around in the woods, some would claim that they actually fought a giant or two, although there is no way to confirm such bold claims of being true.
Were you a common townsfolk who got themselves too far into the woods? An adventurer finding their way into a town surrounded by mystery? Or were you perhaps a noble who by terrible misfortune, had their carriage be stuck during a heavy storm in the dark of night?
It doesn't really matter which one you choose, considering that what happens next would be inevitable. You get lost at the dead of night, the townsfolk not even being able to comprehend how someone can simply disappear like this. You would wake up at a place you couldn't even begin to recognize, it was a very well decorated room yet none of it felt familiar to you.
Maybe it was because of how fancy and modern it was compared to what you were more accustomed with on land, or maybe it was the simple fact that everything in this room was awfully huge compared to you. It took you quite some time to realize that you were not only on top of a massive bed- But that you were trapped inside a bird cage.
Before you could question whether you were having a hallucination or not, your joyful captor made its way inside the bedroom. With such a blissful expression that makes a chill run down your spine- He was so big, it was obvious your captor would have been a giant considering your current location, yet it still shocked you for some reason.
Much to your dismay, your captor does not speak the same language as you, which made you scream at him to free you and put you back where he found you. You have noticed he wasn't understanding a single word coming out of your mouth the moment you started crying at the giant, begging for mercy in fear of what could be your destiny here.
Yet here you were, just- Being observed by such gentle eyes, concerned of your current state. He could talk and shush your cries all he wanted, but you couldn't understand a single thing he meant, the only certainty in this case being the fact you ain't getting out of here so soon.
Malos isn't evil, even if you can't understand what he says- You can tell he is very gentle with you, maybe because he sees how scared and panicky you are, or because he sees you as a pet- Who knows?
He did give you a lot of signs of seeing you as possibly just a "pocket companion", a pet and a doll, someone he could take care of and take wherever he wanted. You noticed how there was no one else who lived with him, maybe he was that lonely and desperate to find a friend that he took you- Without considering your actual feelings on the action.
You weren't too small compared to him, you were basically the height of his hand- A small doll to him, just for him. Whatever life you used to have could be kissed goodbye at this point, because even if you wish everything could go back to normal, that ain't happening, boo.
Malos loves dressing you up, giving you little trinkets to use, giving you small portions of his own food, hearing you make all those lovely sounds he doesn't understand one bit off yet it is still willing to try and comprehend it. He is a very skilled crafter, you know? He knows how to create small toys that will make wonderful gifts for you, at least in his own mind.
Whatever situation you were in that would have brought you to meet him, he would have thought the same thing regardless of what background you could choose for yourself- In Malos eyes, you were lost in the cold of the night, looking so lonely and in need of someone's attention, which he could relate to since he was also lonely and looking for company.
Malos is quite delusional, he has his moments where he has to face reality as a lonely toy maker who kidnapped a human to be his little companion. In these moments of lucidity, he will look at you as if he was lost, as if he was searching for an answer- A confirmation of his actions.
And looking at your cute small little self, confirms his beliefs. You were lost, he was also lost- Yet you found each other, and that's all that matters for him.
After being faced with so much love and attention, considering how weeks and months have passed since he got you here, it's not hard to imagine you feeling more comfortable in his presence.
His skin is so much warmer than yours, his rough hands hold you with such care- It's hard to not give yourself in to his gentle touches, to his incomprehensible whispers, he has such a smooth voice that is hard to not enjoy listening to it.
You didn't plan this to happen- But on each day that passes by, you start feeling like being taken care off is way better than having to fend for yourself down there with the other humans. His company has been so heartwarming, and it hurts you the times he has to go out and take long periods of time outside his house, probably selling his toys or even buying more food for you two.
It's so unfortunate to think that you, someone who was once a person, was now submitting to him and enjoying being treated like this- You would curse at yourself for being so weak, so desperate for his affection, to the point you enjoy being petted and loved as a doll.
With Malos, you could ignore the voices screaming at you to get yourself out of his house in the clouds, but whenever you were left alone locked inside a doll house he built, you would cry yourself to sleep until you could ignore your conscience telling you how much of a failure you are.
If Malos was somehow aware of this confusing thoughts inside you, he would try his best to calm you down, while also pulling you closer to the confirmation that he is here to help you, to take care of you and that there is no shame in you liking him as well. He already loves you so much, he just needs you to do the same for him.
However, Malos isn't always gentle with you- Not only is he easily excited, but he is also easily angered, very childishly. His outbursts are never on you, but rather on the things around you. You can feel the table under you shake whenever he has his temper tantrums, you can see him taking away some of your items as a form of punishment in case you have been acting up.
He would also give you an ice shoulder for some time if he felt as if you were in need of apologizing (even if he didn't understand your language, he could still see through your mannerisms if you were truly sorry or not). He wouldn't ignore you for long, considering how he is also very touch-starved, which leads into the next point:
Malos loves petting you, and touching you. You're soft and squishy and so charming to hold- How can he not love you to bits??!
He gets very confused sometimes, he isn't sure if he sees you as a small pet-like companion, or as a possible- Well, partner. His adoration towards you will start to twist into actual romantic interest, and I warn you to be careful darling-
The moment he sets his mind into something, it's nearly impossible to change it back.
🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭
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ilguna · 4 years ago
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Belamour - Chapter Nine (f.o)
summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.
warnings; swearing, murder plot
wc; 11.2k
NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.
Today marks the eighth day of the Hunger Games, you think. If you’ve been keeping track of it correctly, it’s been a week, and today is the eighth day. You’d like to say that the time has flown, but the days feel like they drag on forever. Especially with how hot it’s been during the day. It feels like you’re living through lifetimes in the span of a couple of days.
You should probably clarify that today is the eighth day of the games for you guys. Time typically moves differently inside of the arena, and it’s because the gamemakers are always trying to make something happen. Whether that be fights, or just plain death, it’s all dependent on the circumstances.
All you know is that your brothers and family friends have watched you survive in here, and come close to death three times now. The first one being Horace, the second being the mutts, and the third being the boy from Twelve. Although, you don’t think he counts much, holding you underwater was his own death wish.
Reed and Mox are probably beginning to gain hope on the situation. If you’ve survived an entire week, and managed to form a schedule of sorts, then you should be on track to go home. All you have to do is not fuck up between now and then. Don’t pick too many fights, drink plenty of water and eat more than enough food.
Keep your allies close but your enemies closer.
This morning was eerie. Allio didn’t say a word, mostly made grunting noises when Lennox suggested that him and Allio go out to try and hunt. It’s been three days since the storm, so the animals should be appearing back in the woods, but there’s no promises. If they come back with nothing, you’re going to be sent out to the pond.
As soon as the boys left, you and Trink had a quick conversation about how weird it was. You suggested the fact that he’s probably still mad at you three for yesterday, and she agreed. As soon as it was over, you and her started going through boxes to find any stray food.
She ended up finding one full of food. The cornucopia is normally plentiful with all sorts of stuff, so you weren’t surprised that she found it so quickly. The next thing to do was gather all the garbage and make a trash can of sorts. Already, you’ve thrown out wrappers and old bones.
It isn’t until you’re throwing out a fish’s skeleton, when you realize that it might be possible to make a soup out of these. Like chicken and beef broth, but instead with bones. Then you seem to remember that you never watched your brothers when they made it. You were always either out of the house or doing something in your room.
And the others don’t mind the fish--you could care less about eating it every night--but if you continue to make them eat it, or anything that has to do with it, they’re going to riot. It wouldn’t hurt to at least propose it, so you make note and toss the skeleton into the box.
“Hey, you know what I just thought of?” Trink is sitting in the sand, passing over trash when she finds it.
“What?” you ask, grabbing another handful and throwing it into the box. It looks like that’s the last of it. 
You shut the lid on the box, and leave it unlocked, hoping that’ll be a good enough signal to you later that it’s the trash box. If not, the placement of where it is should be good enough for your memory.
“Snares.” she says, “We make snares and set them up in the woods, just so we don’t have to be out there hunting the entire time.”
You nod distantly, thinking it over. It’s not a bad idea. You could catch things overnight and go to grab the animals in the morning, and just reset it, you think. You’ve never had to do something like that before, so it’s more or less a toss up. 
“Do you know how to make one?” you ask.
She’s shaking her head, face turning a light shade of red, “No, I was hoping you’d know.”
And your eyebrows are drawing in, “Why?”
“You and Finnick were at the snare station during the training days, remember?”
For a moment, you’re about to deny it all, not being able to recall a single moment like that. It hits you, after that. Sitting at the snare section with the incredibly impressed expert, and how you taught Finnick knots when he asked. It really does feel like years ago, when it was literally two weeks ago.
And the more it comes back to you, the more you seem to realize that you never actually learned any snares. You were more focused on trying to figure out new ways to tie knots, hoping that whatever the expert tried to teach you, you already knew and it would come back to you in that moment.
You fucked up, majorly. You spent an hour or so at that station without spending a single second of actually learning how to tie a snare. A skill that would now help to keep you all from starving. You grit your teeth, because who’s the one person that spent more time at that station after his first alliance was gone? Finnick.
You look over at Trink, shaking your head before the words form on your tongue. She seems to understand, maybe thinking that you don’t remember. Or maybe the change of expression told her that you don’t know how to tie snares at all.
“It’s no big deal.” she says, “I’m looking forward to fish for dinner, anyway. Even if it’s not the greatest, we can rely on it, hopefully.”
“Yeah.” you agree.
It’s only a few minutes later when the boys come back, absolutely nothing in their hands. Lennox tries to offer an apology, but you figured that this would happen. The gamemakers are keeping the animals from supplying the woods, what’s new? After all the shit they’ve thrown your way recently, it’s only customary.
You pack up your things, collect the empty water bottles, and leave for the pond. On the way, you hum a fisherman’s tune and try to recall the actual words to it. There’s a ton of variations to them, and you remember bits and pieces from the original and all the remakes. By the time you reach the pond, you’ve made a frankenstein version of the song.
You grab the fishing pole and then unpack your things, laying it all out. First, you get the water and purify it. You line the canteens up to make sure that they aren’t taking up a huge amount of room inside of the backpack. After that, you dig through the dirt to find a worm, making the situation beneath your nails worse.
At this point, you’re sure that it’s just stained that dark brown color. There’s really no other way to explain it. There’s a baby blue on the top, and a dark brown beneath the bottom. Picking at it has done nothing but aggravate you. So, you sit in tired silence and wait for the fish to bite.
You can imagine that your brothers are picking out everything that you’re doing wrong. Cringing when you choose to do one thing over the other, they’ve probably already found out ways to make your fishing pole better, and are just waiting for you to realize it too. You’ve already considered crackers and stuff like that, but it’ll eventually break off in the water, and you’ll just waste the food.
You wish that you were able to hear them and what they have to say. Beg them for advice on what to do. Allio is just becoming a bigger problem, the more that time goes on. The food is becoming more scarce, it’s hot here during the day and last night the weather plunged terribly, enough to make you grab out a second jacket from a box.
All you want is to survive, and it keeps getting harder the more that the days go on. You wish that the gamemakers weren’t allowed to interfere, and just had to watch from the sidelines. Of course, the games wouldn’t be nearly as interesting but manipulating the weather is unfair.
You pull out the first fish, and go right back in for a second. This one seems to bite only minutes later, faster than the first. You go to place the second fish down, only to find that the first is missing, with no sight of it around you. Your eyes barely manage to catch a quick movement in the bushes, and the knife is in and out of your hand in a flash.
“Shit!” a voice hisses, you jump to your feet, fingers fumbling for the sword to catch the thief before they have a chance to run.
You have the sword raised, prepared for the other tribute to jump at you. And you just barely peer around the bushes, about to swing and end it. But you catch yourself mid-air once you see who it is. His dark, curly hair is so familiar and it catches you off guard almost immediately.
He’s got a knife clutched in his hands, eyes wide and staring up at you. There actually seems to be some wince on his face, like he was fully prepared to accept his fate with the sword. Leave it to him not to even think of defending himself. 
“Blaire?” you ask, eyebrows drawing together as you survey the area around him.
You’re looking for Finnick and Thyme, they have to be around here somewhere, right? They’re supposed to be grouped up together, so it would only make sense for them to be traveling together. Then again, you’re with the careers and you came down here by yourself. On the other hand, you wanted it that way. 
You find no one around him. Maybe Blaire volunteered to go alone, like you? But that doesn’t make sense, Finnick typically travels with other people, no matter the weather or what they wish. You remember all the times in the rain, and how he’d walk his friends, girls and guys, home after school. Especially the ones that were looking upset.
One more look at Blaire, and you can see that his cheeks have sunken in, no longer as chubby as they were during the week in the Capitol. He’s been starving, and traveling down to look at his hands, it makes sense why he was stealing the fish. He’s hungry.
“Where’s Finnick?” you ask, looking back at him. 
A fish in one hand, and a knife in the other. The longer you stare at the knife, the more you recognize it. Again, you’re looking at his face, and the guilty expression seems to set in. There’s only one knife that looks like it, and it’s the exact design of the one that had been stolen out of your backpack.
Good news, you found the thief that took the entirety of the feast from your backpack in the shack. It explains the disappearance of the food and the knife. Bad news, you accused Allio when it had nothing to do with him, which means that there is undoubtedly a bounty placed on your head, and he’s probably explaining it to them right now. It still doesn’t explain the grapes.
A part of you is angry, because Blaire has caused this riff in the alliance whether he knows it or not. And it’ll be nearly impossible to repair without explaining to them how you know that it wasn’t Allio. It would give up Blaire’s position, and how you didn’t kill him on sight. Even worse if he doesn’t shut up in the sky.
On the other hand, you’re fairly impressed. He managed to get passed four sleeping career tributes, steal the food and leave without making a single sound. The timing and execution is amazing, and you know for a fact that you wouldn’t be able to pull off something like that.
Unfortunately, his luck has run out.
Blaire’s shaking his head, the wince from his face fading as you lower your sword. For now, you have absolutely no intention of killing him. He’s too kind, and you know that the stealing was for his own survival. Even if you’re in the Hunger Games, you can appreciate it. 
“I don’t know.” he says, you offer your hand out to him, but since his hands are full, he can’t grab it. Your arm falls back to your side.
“What do you mean you don’t know? You haven’t seen him at all? You’re supposed to be with Finnick and Thyme. Don’t you have an idea of where they are?”
He gets to his feet, you can see the damage you did to his leg, now. It’s a nick, enough to surprise him and make him think that you did some serious damage. You find your little knife a few feet away. You pick it up, and await his answer.
“I haven’t seen them at all since the first day. We all split up, I didn’t even know that Verda was going to the cornucopia.” Blaire frowns, “She died in the bloodbath, right?”
You nod quietly, bringing him over to where you had been sitting before by the pond. You throw the hook back into the water, “Yeah, it was a quick death, though. I’m pretty sure that it wasn’t any of us that had done it. Definitely wasn’t me.”
“You’re still with the careers?”
“Yeah.” you look over to him, “What have you been doing this whole time? Other than stealing from us.” 
His face flushes, and he opens his mouth and then closes it. He shakes his head, eyes closed and then he looks down to the dirt, “I was hungry.”
“You left nothing.”
“Can you blame me? You guys looked well off, I didn’t see a harm in it at all. And I didn’t leave nothing, I left the crackers and figured that would be good enough. That and the water.” Blaire’s still got a grip on the fish, you have a feeling that you won’t be getting it back.
You pull up another fish, place it on the plastic, and then go right back in again, “We’ve been sharing food. One measly rabbit for four people, it’s not exactly the best. Doesn’t sit right with them.”
He hums, “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Take the fish, and a thing of water.” you reach into the bag, pulling out the water bottle you’d used, it’s full of water, “Should be clean.”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah. Clean out the cut on your thigh to keep it from being infected.”
You can’t believe that Blaire doesn’t know where they are. So much for a second-hand alliance, none of them are together. Verda’s dead, Blaire is wandering the woods alone, starving. And who knows what’s happened to Finnick and Thyme? It could very well be Blaire’s situation but better or worse, depending on where they are.
You’re so guilty. This isn’t directly your fault, because Finnick had his own alliance so he should have been able to find all of them just fine. But had you… you’re the older tribute, you were supposed to be watching over him. Yet, he’s off somewhere, maybe alone, maybe starving and dehydrated.
Finnick might have broken the agreement on the alliance with the careers, but he’s your friend. Finnick and you have known each other for years. Had you just spent time changing his mind and reassuring him, he might be with you now. You were just so mad that he had turned his back on something so great.
There’s no way of knowing now, if you two could have survived out here. Knowing him, he would’ve wanted to stay away from the cornucopia entirely. Which just means going into the woods with absolutely nothing and banking on sponsors. You know how to do things like start fires, and hunt without all the good stuff, but it just helps.
Then again, you did warn Finnick. You told him that going about this alone or without the careers would be harder. There’s not as many people watching your back. And of course, at some point they’re going to be unreliable and dangerous. But you’ve survived this far, and you’ve only just come across problems.
As far as you know, the games are halfway over. There’s eleven dead, and it’s been a steady flow. In eight more days, the games could be over and you could be going home. 
Blaire dips his hand into the water, pulling out a handful of water as he dumps it onto his thigh. His face twists, a hiss coming from his lips. You feel sorry for him, it has to hurt and it’s going to hinder his walking. But it’s what he gets. It’s justice, in your mind.
Doesn’t mean you can’t help him out somewhat. You and Blaire might not have talked to each other for long, but you don’t feel uncomfortable around him. And he seems to be pretty relaxed, too. You wonder if he sees you as a friend directly, or a friend of a friend.
Sticking the fishing pole between your calf and your thigh, you dig through the backpack for the first-aid. You pull it out, and toss it to him, hoping that he knows what he’s doing, and won’t have to ask you for advice. For a moment, you can see him staring out of your peripheral, and then he takes it.
“I really am sorry, (Y/n).”
“It’s fine.” you mutter.
Blaire doesn’t say anything else for a while. He washes out the blood, waits for his calf to dry, and then places a bandage on top of it. When he’s done, he carefully shuts the first aid and holds it out for you. You take it, tuck it back into its spot, and pull up the next fish that comes around.
Three should be good enough. You wrap it all up in the plastic once the newest one is done squirming, and then place the package into the backpack, right next to the water. 
Blaire’s watching you closely again. Once you’ve zipped up the bag, you look at him, “Good luck.”
“Won’t you be down here tomorrow?”
“Not if we get something from the woods.”
Blaire looks down to the fish in his hands, “It’s been quiet.”
“We know.” you get up, placing the knife back into its spot on your belt, and then the sword. You throw the fishing pole into the bushes and then turn to look at Blaire, “If I have time, I’ll leave something for you.”
“Thank you.”
“Find a place to stay, Blaire.” you tell him, starting your way back to the cornucopia.
The walk is quiet, Blaire doesn’t follow. You manage to get back before sundown, and your allies have already got a fire started. You all get rid of the scales on the fish, then Lennox gets to cooking.
Allio still says nothing, not even when he’s offered food or if you guys ask if he wants more. Eventually, he gets up without a word and goes to take a walk, leaving just the three of you in the cornucopia. A part of you wants to tell them that you saw Blaire down at the pond, but figure that won’t go over well.
You obviously didn’t kill him, and explaining what happened with the food won’t be the best, either. Even if they were to get on your side, you’re sure that suspicions would start to rise. Unless you lied and said that you tried to kill Blaire and he got away. It would explain why he didn’t die immediately but then it would be a waiting game, and wishing death on him.
And coming clean to Allio, he’ll probably find a way to spin it on you. The two of you have made your distaste for each other clear, and Trink is the same way. The only semi-neutral person in this group anymore is Lennox. And you’re sure that’ll only be a matter of time before he’s turned again Allio, especially with the attitude that he has.
Allio has just come back from the woods, a dead rabbit in his hands and a victorious look on his face, when a cannon blasts. The look almost disappears, changing to confusion. But then he hands off the rabbit to Lennox, and takes a seat in his regular spot.
“Nice catch.” Trink murmurs, but it’s clear you’re all still puzzled about the cannon.
It could be anyone except you guys. Blaire, Finnick, Thyme, you think Mac is still alive and both the tributes from Eight. There’s one more, you’re sure of it, but can’t seem to think of who it is. Six tributes, the possibilities are endless.
Allio opens his mouth, another cannon cuts him off. Two tributes. Two tributes are dead.
You press your lips together. Could be Blaire, could be Finnick and Thyme. Could be Mac and Blaire, or both of the Eight tributes if they were caught off guard. Endless, really. Until you get to see the sky and their faces tonight.
You hope you didn’t call their deaths, Blaire and Finnick. You have the worst type of luck with things like that, pointing out how they could happen and then it happening. It knocks two players out of the game, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t matter. 
“Two.” Allio says, as if you all don’t know.
Trink’s pulling her hair out of her face, “Probably a fight between three people.”
You nod along, and Lennox shrugs, “Mutual kill?”
“Isn’t that rare?” Trink asks, “Like I’ve never seen that ever.”
“Probably, I thought that there was one year when it happened, though.” Lennox begins to scoop up the scraps to throw into the trash box, but you’re flying across the small space to stop him, “What?”
“I can use this as bait.” your eyes scan the surrounding area, trying to find something to put it in. The spare canteen bottles come to mind.
After finding one, you pack as much as you can inside, and tuck the can somewhere cold. It’s not going to stay good for long, which means that you’ll have to use as much as possible, and then empty it out to start over. For now, it’ll have to work.
It’s agreed between you guys that it should be an early night. You wait for the death recap in the sky with them, finger crossed for whatever reason. You don’t want it to be anyone you know, but on the other hand, it would be easier. You wouldn’t have to kill them later on, if someone did all the work for you.
The music starts, the blue emblem of the Capitol appearing in the sky. You watch and wait patiently, heart beginning to beat in your chest. It isn’t that big of a deal, you take deep breaths to calm yourself down.
The first face in the sky is the girl from Eight, which immediately knocks out Blaire and Finnick. It leaves two tributes, though. The boy from Eight, and Thyme. Both tributes from Districts Nine and Ten are dead, both of them died during the bloodbath.
“It’s Thyme.” you say, and you really do call it. She’s next to appear in the sky, her district number below her face. 
You turn towards an empty space in the sand, writing out initials. T and L for Trink and Lennox, A for Allio, B for Blaire. One for yourself, F for Finnick, M for Mac, and a number eight for the boy from Eight. And then a question mark, because you still can’t recall where the last tribute is from.
Nine tributes left in the game, four of them being you guys, and five being everyone else. It could be two girls left in the game, and it could be three. Which leaves six or seven boys. 
You suddenly begin to worry about the alliance, one more death from one of the stray tributes, will mean an even score. You’ve seen this problem happen many times before, the career tributes all turning on each other. That or they split up, and you can’t see that happening without one of you dying.
One of you has to go to keep the alliance intact. You’ve been relying on it for this long, and you’re not about to get killed because of paranoia going on in the group. You quickly rub out the sand, and then look up to the others. There’s a sadistic smile on Allio’s face, and you know immediately. He has to go.
“We’re getting closer and closer.” Allio says, and then his eyes drag over to you.
You don’t like this. You’re the youngest, they’re all older than you by one or two years. To Allio, you’re small and weak, and possibly the most useless one still in the group. But as far as you know, he’s got no kills on his head, and you’ve got four. And you’re sure that Lennox and Trink still think that he’s the one that ate all of his food.
There’s evidence.
It’s obvious. You wonder if he knows this too.
You give them a lighthearted smile, because for now, they’re not going to kill you. They’re going to keep you around, because you’re their only supplier of food right now. You have until the animals begin to show themselves in the woods again. Which could be any day now.
The anthem finalizes loudly, and the outside is dark again. Inside the cornucopia, the fire is still going, still giving off plenty of light.
“I’d say we go out and try our luck with hunting again.” Allio says.
Bad idea, you’re already shaking your head, “Just so we can come right back here in a few days? The arena is huge, you have to know that at this point. We could walk for miles and still find nothing.”
There’s a glare in his eyes, “It’s better than sitting here.”
“I don’t think so. Everyone out there is going to die one way or another, let them kill themselves.”
“And what about us?” Trink asks.
You give her a look, and shrug, “We can’t stay together forever. But we might as well make the best of it.”
They already knew that, but you wonder if they realize that you’re banking on the hope that you all stay together. Allio is upset again, Trink looks like she’s taking what you said into consideration, and Lennox is indifferent. 
Lennox keeps the fire going. He says that tomorrow will be Trink’s turn to watch over, and then it’s left to you and Allio to fight it out. Then, you’re all laying down to sleep. Except, it doesn’t come easy tonight.
Nine tributes left in the games. Eight that need to die to make sure that you win. Three of them are allies, one of them a friend from back home, two of them you consider friendly, and two nobodies that you could care less about. You’re almost there. All you have to do is not give up.
You’ve kept your strength this far, what’s a little more?
In the morning, you’re up to relieve Lennox so he can go straight to bed. By the time the sun is higher up in the sky, Allio and Trink are up. You all agree that it would be a good idea for you to go out and fish, because one measly rabbit isn’t going to do much for you four.
You take the backpack with you, and leave without waiting for Lennox to wake up. The others will fill him in, and since they’re awake, they’ll be able to watch over the cornucopia. You just hope that Allio isn’t going to fill their heads with the same thoughts you had last night.
The pond is devoid of Blaire, and it’s quiet. You fish, your thoughts being your only company. And they aren’t very pleasant.
You think that if Allio were to die and the others were to find out that it were you, they wouldn’t be angry. Obviously killing either Trink or Lennox would make the other mad, because that’s their friend from back home. It would be interesting to try and pin it on Allio and see how either of them react, but that could easily backfire. All they’d have to do is think that you’re accusing people too often, and suddenly you’re the odd one out.
And getting rid of Allio would do good, because he’s a boy. And if there are only two to three girls left in the game, it would be nice to even out the playing field a little. Give you, Trink and whoever the other person may or may not be, a good fighting chance. 
You’ve done fine against boys so far, but it’s good to have that extra step, anyway.
There’s a crackle of a leaf, which makes you look over. Blaire’s coming through the trees, still looking malnourished, but a lot more energetic today, “Good morning,” he says, and then sits by you without a word.
It would be a lot easier if he knew how to fish for himself. He’s seen where you put the fishing pole, the real thing that he’s missing is the knowledge and a water bottle to reel in the fish. But then again, you don’t want to just hand out information without getting something in return.
“Good morning.”
“Saw the sky last night, right?” he asks, and you nod. The stench of fish coming from the canteen bottle is enough for you to rethink wanting to touch it and use it as bait, “I have a feeling Thyme and Finnick were working together.”
You look over at him, “Yesterday you said you all split.”
“Finnick and Thyme vaguely ran in the same direction. I couldn’t keep up.” he says, “And I haven’t been able to find them since. The arena is huge, (Y/n).”
You nod, “Yeah, we found that out a few days ago.”
Of course Finnick would work with Thyme, it just makes sense. From one companion to another. You wonder if he’s also hurt, or if it was just Thyme that took the damage. They probably brought in the Eight girl somehow, thinking that she’d be an easy kill, but wasn’t. Hurt Thyme pretty badly, Finnick finished Eight off, and then was left to Thyme. 
In that case, she could be a mercy kill. They could have been using that tactic this entire time, which means that a handful of deaths could very well belong to them. 
“Can I use your water-purify droplets?” he asks, you dig through one of the front pockets to bring it out for him. He thanks you, and then goes right to collecting water. As soon as he’s sat back, you’re pulling out a fish and telling him to take it, “Has there been any drama between you guys yet?”
You look at Blaire, again, and study his face. It looks like genuine curiosity, an innocent question.
He explains himself; “I’m just asking, since all the other times with the games and there being this amount of careers left, drama starts.”
Maybe Blaire has a problem with silence, “Minimal drama, I’m going to take care of it.”
Right after the words leave your mouth, you freeze, fingers still trying to unravel the coil of water. That statement could mean a number of things to him, and everyone back at the Capitol. But talk about giving away an undecided plan. Killing Allio won’t be easy, at all.
Everything has to be perfect. You have until the animals appear, you need a night when you’re taking the shift, and you need to somehow make him look guilty and make sure that he won’t be missed. You know that it’ll be easier, one less mouth to feed, and he won’t be offending you guys each time he opens his mouth.
You almost think his death will be premature, and you should wait until the ‘outsider’ tributes are down a little more. That’s when the thinking stops, because it comes into conflict with your original thought. You don’t want there to be an even playing field, and you don’t want a free-for-all at the cornucopia.
Allio has to go, but you don’t have the timing down just yet. 
“Oh,” Blaire says, he probably caught on to the wording, “Right, is it a group thing or…?”
“No.” you say, “I don’t think that the other two will like the idea.” you put some more fish scraps on the end of the hook, and dip it into the water, “But it needs to happen.”
He doesn’t say anything. You fish for another hour before you’re tired, nothing has bitten since Blaire’s fish. He tries to give it up, but you assure him that it’s no big deal, and bid him goodbye, the fishing pole going straight into the bushes. Instead of taking the regular path home, you take a wide arch, hoping that’ll give you more time to find something else to take home.
Lucky for you, a rabbit darts out of the bushes, and the knife lands in the back of its neck. You’re about to say that it’s good enough, until the back of your mind is telling you that you might as well explore. It’s not anywhere near sundown just yet, and if you go back to the cornucopia now, you’ll just sit there with the rest.
And it’s easier to explore alone, you think. There aren't a ton of people trampling over the leaves, breaking sticks and such and leaving an obvious path that you had been there. It looks less daunting, and the other tributes might even consider staying around. One path isn’t a lot. It’s worrying, they might relocate, and they might not.
You use some of the rope to tie the bunny up onto your backpack. It looks funny with how it hangs down, and you’d put it inside of the backpack, wrapped in a sheet of plastic. Except, it’s still bleeding, and it would mess up everything inside. You’d rather the blood get all over the back of your jeans and shoes instead.
If you were standing and facing the mouth of the cornucopia, you’d say that right now, you’re on the right side of it. Roughly where Allio had disappeared off to last night. If you were to go left of the cornucopia, it would just be the coast, nothing good over there. 
Out here, on the right side, should be relatively nothing. Especially with how the others have described it. You’ve never actually come over here, yourself. You always figured that there wouldn’t be anything interesting. They say they can’t hear flowing water, and it’s just trees.
So, you figure it’s going to be the same, and that the trip out here is useless, and you’re really just trying to burn time, not wanting to deal with Allio’s attitude. It’s devoid of animals, which makes you think that the gamemakers are slowly giving in to the supply of wild animals again, which is good news.
They were right about the dense forest part. You’ve seen worse in other arenas, but it’s still surprising. Having this many trees on what you think is an island. It smells green out here, too. Healthy trees and plants. Honestly, if there weren’t a coast, you’d just say that this is a regular forest arena.
Those tend to be the trickiest. Having to fight in them is hard. Hiding behind trees may seem comical, but they work better than you think. At some point, if you’re not careful, the trees begin to look the same and you can wander in circles for hours, thinking that you’re going the right way but you aren’t.
It’s even more embarrassing when you finally realize what you had done for the past hour, knowing that the people back home and the entire Capitol just watched you do it like an idiot. You always used to ask, “How hard can it be?” But being out here has opened your eyes. You always knew that the arena was hard, especially with how little the Capitol gives, but it’s just making you even more aware.
The more you wander this way, the more you’re able to see the tall cliff, which is beginning to look more like a mountain with how it peaks. It’s definitely climbable, you know that. Just by judging the incline, though, it’ll be a tiring walk. And for what? A good view? Right.
At some point, you get tired of walking straight, and go diagonal instead. If you get lost, you’ll just follow the beach around until you spot the cornucopia. Easy enough plan. Plus, getting lost won’t be too bad. Unless, of course, the Capitol decides to throw in their own twist with you.
After what you said at the pond, you have a feeling you’ve got them intrigued enough to not jump to do things with you. The Capitol has likely figured out that you meant Allio, and saying that you’ve got it handled means that you’re working alone. You even confirmed it by telling Blaire that the group wouldn’t approve.
He probably caught on too. He’s smart, older than you too. Just like most of the other tributes are, except for the Twelve tributes and Finnick. You don’t know the ages of everyone, just a basic idea of where they’re at. You know for sure that Allio, Trink and Lennox are older than you. There’s no question about that.
There’s a moment, while you’re walking through the trees, you hold your breath to make sure that you don’t hear anyone following you. And then you hear it, and it’s enough for you to look over with wide eyes, and not even hesitate about going over. It’s running water, loud and crashing.
As you move through the trees, you’re careful to make sure that there isn’t anyone over here. It’s uncharted territory for you. As far as you know, this is where all the tributes could be, all hiding out around the same area. It’s out of the distance of the cornucopia, and it’s away from the path you walk everyday to the pond.
It’s smart. If someone chose to stay out here, it’s smart.
Through the trees, you’re able to see the water, sneaking up onto the dirt enough to make it mud. You don’t dare move past the treeline, and even position yourself behind a tree, looking out to the scene in front of you.
It’s a paradise. Further out, there’s a waterfall, and it looks like there’s a running stream out here after all. Around the bank are flowers, there’s lilies and lily pads alike, floating on top of the crystal blue water. With how the sun hits the water, it looks absolutely clear. Clean, cleaner than the pond water.
You think you even catch a glimpse of a fish tail, before it’s disappeared completely. How did the others miss this? You have a hard time believing that their curiosity didn’t get the better of them. Especially the mornings that the boys went to hunt. You know you’d try and take a big track around to try and get the best of what you can.
It’s beautiful over here. And as much as you want to fish, gather better water and just walk into it altogether, you know that there’s something else here. Whether it be a water mutt, or a person. In the arena, everything is too good to be true. If it’s not dirty and clearly falling apart, then it’s gamemaker engineered and there’s something wrong with it.
Even with this thought, your eyes catch a vague movement behind the waterfall. A dark color, maybe an animal? But then it happens again, and you know better. It’s not an animal, not with how upright the figure is. One more movement, and it’s registered in your mind. There’s only one person that you know that would bet on something so delicate and dangerous. And it’s not Blaire.
It has to be Finnick. There’s a cave behind the waterfall, and he found it. Smart.
You have the sudden urge to call his name and wander out, but catch yourself before you act on it. You don’t know that it’s him, it could be another tribute that figured out how to swim or don’t have an insane fear of the water. And second, you don’t know if you’re still on friendly terms with him. Not after what happened.
Yet another secret to keep to yourself. You’re careful to sneak off without making much noise, a little upset that you’ll be missing out on a perfect fishing opportunity. If you had your spear, you’d be able to take out half a dozen fish before you realize that it’s way too much.
At least you know where Finnick--or another tribute--are now. You could easily blame them for Allio’s death if something goes wrong. And then the thought of the fact that you knew that they were alive, but again didn’t kill them, pops in your head. You can’t blame any old tribute for Allio’s death without being incredibly guilty.
You make it back to the cornucopia just fine, finding that there’s already a fire going again, and Trink is taking her turn roasting it. They’re all startled at your approach, reaching for their weapons. They must be used to you approaching from the side and coming around, instead of just walking out in the open.
“No fish, got a rabbit, though.”
“None at all?” Lennox asks, “We had so many yesterday.”
“I tried for hours, found nothing so I wandered around until I spotted this guy.” You free him from your rope and hand him off to Lennox, “It’s better than nothing.”
Lennox gets to work at ripping the rabbit apart. You go ahead and hand out the water, and then take a seat near the fire to keep warm. You can already feel the temperature change, again, the gamemakers are tampering with the weather. To combat this, Trink slides in another couple of sticks, and it’s just a waiting game.
“Who’s watching tonight?” Lennox asks, and he’s looking between you and Allio, because the two of you haven’t taken an overnight shift in a while.
“I’ll take it tonight, Allio can have tomorrow.” You say.
“I’ll take the next two days, since I haven’t been doing much.” He says, and then begins playing with his sword over the fire.
It’s an hour or so before the first rabbit’s meat is thoroughly cooked. You tell Lennox and Trink to share the first one, and you and Allio will get the second. For a moment, Allio doesn’t look that thrilled that you made a decision for him like that. But then he must realize that means that he might eat more, and the expression falls.
After dinner, you all stay up for a little longer, playing stupid games and trying to burn more time. As always, the Capitol symbol appears in the sky, along with the sound of the anthem. But there were no deaths today, so it fades quickly. Only then do the others call it a night.
You position yourself up against a box, the hilt of the sword in your hand. If you haven’t had any trouble up to this point, then there shouldn’t be any tonight, either. Which means that you get to sit around in the cold, watch as the fire slowly dies out, and try to keep yourself awake.
It’s just silence during the night. The only time there’s actual noise is during the day, when the birds and insects are awake. You can faintly hear the sound of waves on the shore, and you don’t even bother trying to hear the waterfall, because it’s too far off.
If you thought staying in the cornucopia was cold, you can’t imagine what it’s like behind the water. The water is freezing, and if it’s a cave, then that means the stone will be cold too. Unless the tribute inside of there thought ahead and somehow built a blanket of leaves to keep them fairly warm.
And the mist from how hard the water is coming down? It’ll make some things wet if it’s too close. The only real solution to that, is if it’s deep in there. Honestly, you thought caves behind waterfalls was a thing for fairytales. Like those stupid books your mom used to read you before bed, back when you were in elementary school. 
You listen as the sand shifts, when you look over, it’s Trink rolling over. She’s got her back to you now. Within arm’s reach is her canteen and sword, in the case of an emergency. A few feet away lies Lennox, who sleeps on his back. His things are still by the fire, but with far back he is into the cornucopia, he could just use anything off the wall.
As for Allio, he sleeps on the other side of the fire. Compared to you and Trink, he’s by far the closest person to the mouth of the cornucopia. Easy access for anyone to come around and kill, and just run off into the woods. It’s not possible for you to do the same. It’ll be too suspicious over the fact that you were missing. Especially since you were supposed to be guarding everyone.
Tonight isn’t the night, and you’re not too sure that the next two nights are either. But time is running out, and you need to get to him before another random tribute dies. You need a plan, not something half-assed that could easily be seen through.
At this point in the games, you’re not even sure if that’s possible. Everyone has some sort of paranoia running through their heads. And it’s obvious that it’s gotten to you first. It’s for the right reason, you think. To keep an alliance intact. You could always go out and survive on your own, it’s clear that you can. Just take a backpack and don’t show up at the cornucopia again.
But you’re relying on the other's safety. And they’ll probably know where to go, down to the pond or to the shack to get to you and take you out for keeping them waiting like that. Of course, you could always go somewhere else to hide, but you’re not experienced in the woods.
Blaire might be. The only thing that he’s lacking is actual supply. If you were to team up with him, then you’d have a better chance than just going alone. But it poses the same problem that you’re working with at the moment. Eventually, tensions will rise between you and Blaire. And eventually, if you two somehow manage to be the last two alive, you’ll have to kill each other. 
You don’t want to kill Blaire. You’d much rather someone else do it, because you consider him friendly, just like how you consider Mac friendly. It’s obvious why you don’t want to kill Finnick too. So it’s automatically knocking out three of the eight tributes that need to go, to make sure you win.
At the rate you’re all going, you don’t think that Blaire, Finnick or Mac will die by chance. Blaire might not have the same will to live as the rest of you do, but he’s still fighting to stay alive. And a good example of that, is him stealing food, even though it’s dangerous.
Maybe he has a death wish, and he was partly hoping that he’d get caught and immediately killed for it. It would be one way to end his pain, but you’re not entirely sure if that’s the best way to go, leaving your life in someone else’s hands like that. Especially during the Hunger Games, where everything is supposed to be entertaining.
You could beg for a speedy death, but in the end, you’re all just puppets for the Capitol. None of you want to displease them enough to the point where they do something rash. Whether that be another event in the arena that gets you hurt, or something to your family back home.
You too, are a puppet. And it’s exactly why you’re going to make Allio’s death shocking enough to keep the Capitol on the edge of their seats, and better for you.
By the time that dawn breaks, Trink is up. She lets you sleep into the afternoon, and then wakes you up so that you can still make a trip down to the pond for water for all of them. You’re fairly groggy, and spend a good amount of time just making sure that you’re awake enough to do things.
The good news is, there isn’t an immediate need for fish. Lennox and Allio went out to the forest while you were sleeping, and managed to catch a whole pig. The bad news, the animals are reappearing. They’re still scarce, but all that really matters is the fact that they’re there.
You say that tomorrow is your limit.
Blaire is sitting in the shallow end of the pond when you get there. The bandage is gone, but the cut is still on his thigh. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, so you assume that it's feeling better today. Before he can even ask, you toss over the iodine droplets.
“Thanks. For a while I thought that you weren’t going to show up.” He says.
“Took the night shift, I got to sleep in.” You throw the hook in, and resist the urge to yawn. 
Unlike the boys, you’re pretty capable of staying up throughout the night. The only person that really gets a pass is Lennox, because he’s taking the most of them. He probably realized that the other day, and it’s why he’s pawned off the nights onto you guys. Although, to be fair, you’re pretty sure he was taking it until the difference between you and Trink and Allio was settled.
“I was thinking about what you said yesterday,” Blaire starts, but doesn’t continue past that. 
Looking at him, you’re expecting him to pick up once he realizes that he’s got your full attention, you’re wrong, “About what exactly?”
He looks up from his water bottle, tossing the iodine back your way. You catch it easily, and he begins to shake the water, “Taking care of your problem--or the problem, I should say. Don’t you think that could get you killed?”
“Everything in the arena could get me killed.” you say, there’s a tug at the wire, you reel it in, “No matter what I do, I’m always putting myself into trouble. I come down here alone, I continue to feed you, I create plans and keep secrets and try to stay off my allies’ radar. It’s the same for you. Sooner or later, we’re going to get killed or be the ones that kill.”
“Not me.” Blaire says, taking the fish from you, and then watching you pack up your things, “Shouldn’t you keep going?”
“Friends caught a pig. I’m mostly down here to plot, but you’re here.” you look at him, motioning to the fish with one hand while you block the sun with the other, “Take it, it’s yours.”
“I could leave.”
“What you do, is your own free will.” you say.
Blaire sits down right next to you, pulls his shoes off and then places his feet in the water. He starts taking the scales off the fish, you want to warn him about the dangers of the water, how deep it is and you’re not entirely sure what lies in there. But decide you’ll let him figure that out for himself.
“Tell me your plan.”
You can’t stop the laugh that sputters out of you, loud and long. Blaire was expecting this, there’s a small smile on his face, and he waits patiently for you to stop. Even a couple minutes later, you’re still giggling at the idea. Telling Blaire your plan to kill Allio? And for what? You’ll give away everything about the situation.
“Fat chance.”
“You act like I’m going to work against you.” Blaire says, and you’ve still got a funny smile on your face, “(Y/n), I’m in your debt. Plenty of times now.”
“Why? Just because I fed you? As if that’s even a reason.” you roll your eyes, “It’s charity work.”
“You could have killed me by now. Or brought your alliance down and had them do the job.” Blaire says, “Or not shown up and let me starve.”
“You’re caught up in what-if’s, none of those are real reasons.” you say, and the second that the words leave, you want to take them back. Because they are real reasons, you’ve been smuggling this boy for days.
Back home, you know some other poor family would try and repay you. It’s just how it works. You could do something nice like give one of Naida’s boys an old pair of Reed or Mox’s shoes, and she’d be insisting on making dinner for you all for at least two nights. All of it would be on her.
And there was one day, something like that actually happened. It wasn’t for one of her boys, it was actually for the youngest girl, Windy. She’s older now, six or seven, you can’t remember exactly. But it was just after your dad had died, and your brothers and you were in a deep hole.
Reed was illegally fishing, Mox was desperate with his studies, and applying for jobs at the local stores around, but no one was falling through. Naida knew that the four of you were struggling, and scrambling to sell things to stay afloat. A lot of the things that you were selling were old dresses that Alyssum wouldn’t be needing for a long time.
Windy had some important event at preschool, and Naida didn’t want her to look dirty and poor. She was completely missing clothes for Windy, because she’d sold Calandra’s baby clothes a long ass time ago. And even worse, she was scraping by on rent that month, she wouldn’t be able to afford nice clothing.
You found some old dress in the plastic bin beneath your bed. Clearly expensive, and looking almost brand new. You knew that it would go for a lot at the Square. Even the richest families sometimes go down there to get a good deal on things. And if the Square wouldn’t have worked--you doubt it wouldn’t have--you were going to head down to the seamstress.
You didn’t even ask Reed or Mox if it was okay, didn’t even consider the fact that Alyssum would need something like that in a few years. You found an old shoe box in the boys’ closet, and then some ribbon off of a doll from your room. You tied the box up nicely, with some wonky ass bow on the top. And took your ass right over to Naida’s.
The dress was easily a month’s worth of rent, maybe more. But you knocked on the door, Naida answered, and you handed off the dress, saying, “I heard Windy needs something nice for her school thing. Hope you guys have fun.” and left Naida at the house.
Later that day, when your brother’s were coming back from what they did during the day, Naida stopped them on the porch. In no time, she was crying, and absolutely crazed because she thought you’d spent a ton of money on a dress that you couldn’t even afford. But Reed recognized the dress, reassuring her that it would be a hand-me-down. Even then, Naida didn’t want to accept it.
They didn’t give her a choice either. Said basically the same thing that you did. When they came into the house, they found you doing your math homework at the dining room table. You’ve seen Reed proud many, many times, but the look on his face is one you’ll remember forever. You did a good job.
Naida’s way of paying you all back, was the free babysitting for all of you. Taking Alyssum in during the day while you and Mox went to school, allowing Reed more hours for the illegal fishing. And even after he became a legal adult, she continued on with it. She definitely knows that she’s paid it over so many times by now, but chooses to do it still.
Anyway, Blaire might be thinking the same thing. But instead of a dress, it’s his life. Something that is so temporary in the Hunger Games, and even dangerous. You’re risking your life by saving his. You’re putting trust into him not killing you by continuing to do this.
And the one way he wants to pay you back is by listening and giving advice. You don’t know if Blaire has grown up in the poor part of District Three, or if you’re just overthinking all of this. But it’s what makes the most sense to you. You said it yourself yesterday too, that Blaire is not only older, but smarter. He’s got at least two to three years on you.
“There’s nine tributes left in the arena.” you begin, making him look over, “And I’m worried that as soon as it hits eight, my alliance will break up, and I want to keep it together for as long as possible. It’s nice having people watch over my back, knowing that they’ll protect me. And they’re not all that bad, either.
“Allio, the boy from Two, has been causing trouble between all of us, except for Lennox, the boy from One. Of course, last week you took our entire sponsor gift, and I honestly thought it was Allio, and so did Trink and Lennox.” you stare at Blaire, “They still think that it’s him, as far as I know.
“I would get rid of Lennox or Trink, except they’re friends, they’ve known each other for a while. If one goes, the other’s sure to go crazy, so I figured that Allio would be my best bet, anyway. The only problem I’m having is how to get it done. It has to be tonight or tomorrow, because I don’t want someone to die before we get there. And I don’t want the animals to reappear in the trees.”
Blaire nods, thinking this over. He’s quiet for a long time, staring down at his fish. You think he’s just as stumped as you are, and then he speaks, “You can’t ask the others to help you kill him?”
“They think I’ve only killed one person, and I’m not trying to come off as aggressive. I only blew some of it when I told Allio that I hated him, just like Trink seemed to. So, I bet I’ll already be suspected.”
“Could always say that it was some random tribute.”
“That’s what I was thinking, except there isn’t anyone around the cornucopia.” you say, ignoring the waterfall tribute. They’re not as important, they're too far away. Once again, if it’s Finnick, you don’t want to give him away to the others. You wouldn’t be killing him with your own hands, but you’d lead them right to him. It’s good enough.
“You guys explored around the area?”
“More or less.”
Blaire hums, “You said something about the night shift, who’s taking the next one?”
You look over, “Allio said he’d take the next two nights.”
“Oh, then that’s easy. If he falls asleep during the night, just get him then.” Blaire says, “And then find some outlet, like sleeping or whatever.”
You hold your breath, trying to picture it. In this case, doing it tonight would be suspicious, since you’d finally get him alone for once--or ‘alone’. The others will still be there, just unconscious. You could kill him while he’s asleep, and then quickly lay back down. As for the blood knife, there’s a box that you could probably slip it under.
There’s only one problem, the one that’s nearly impossible to get around.
“What about the cannon?”
Blaire huffs out a laugh, “Guess you’ll just have to move quickly and make sure you aren’t breathing heavily. Turn your back to them or something. You can’t over sell it either, so pretending to sleep through the cannon might be cheesy. Or, it might be realistic, I don’t know.”
Allio sleeps on the other side of the cornucopia, opposite to you, closest to the mouth. Unfortunately, another obstacle is going to be the lit fire, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t control the weather, the gamemakers can. And it’s going to be impossible to get them to just make it warm tomorrow night. Unless they come to the conclusion by themselves.
You stare into the water, almost losing yourself in your thoughts, when you see it. A dark motion, bigger than any fish, “Get out of the water, now.” 
You push yourself to your feet, throwing the backpack away. When Blaire doesn’t move fast enough, you grab the back of his hood with both hands, pulling him out of the water and a couple inches away. He’s got it now, coughing because of how hard you were on the hood.
The black mass is towards the top now, just beneath the surface. You watch the bubbles appear, and pop. One of them lands on Blaire’s bare foot, and he hisses, backing up some more. You watch as his skin turns a shade of pink first, and then deeper to red.
You wonder if the water was hot, or if it’s poison. 
Does it really matter?
You grab the water bottle that’s hanging out of Blaire’s back pocket, uncapping it, and then dumping it out, still staring at the water. No matter how much iodine you put into this, it’s not going to be clean. And it doesn’t matter that he grabbed it from the shallow end, either. Whatever is in the water can contaminated it.
“Here.” you say, placing it in his hand, and then moving on to your bag.
You pull each canteen out and dump them out, watching as the water runs downhill and back into the pond.
“Do you think that the fish is bad?” he asks.
You look over, he’s holding it out for you to see. You don’t spot anything abnormal with it, but you didn’t see anything wrong with the water initially, either, or the pond.
“Toss it in.” you shove everything back into the backpack, and attach the fishing pole to your backpack, “I know another place.”
Blaire follows what you said, tossing it into the water, and pulling on his socks and shoes after. You lead him around in a wide arch, exaggerating the path you took the other day. He doesn’t question you at all.
This walk is much faster than the first one, but the moment you hear the waterfall, you get a bit hesitant. You still lead Blaire through the trees, heading right towards the crystal blue water, but watching to make sure there’s no one there just yet. You’d like to give them a chance to leave.
There is no one, and there is no movement on the other side of the waterfall. Once Blaire sees what you’ve led him to, he gasps slightly, “Wow.”
“Yeah, I know. We shouldn’t be here for too long.” you glance behind you, there’s no one. If Blaire can sneak around you guys quietly, it’s no question that others might be able to do the same, “You watch out for anyone.”
“You don’t like it over here.” he says, it’s not a question.
“We’re invading someone’s space.” is all you say, “Fill up the canteens, I’ll get you something to eat.”
Blaire sits down, unfastens your fishing pole, and offers it to you. You shake your head, pulling off your shoes, and then your socks, and you roll up your jeans as far as they’ll go. After that, you pull your sword into your hand, and carefully wade into the water, watching for anything unnatural.
That was definitely a mutt in the pond, as always, gamemaker generated. It’s a wonder if it appeared because they made the creature come out, or because the fish that you caught made them appear. Either way, you couldn’t see it coming. You knew that the water was deep, but you didn’t know what else would be in it.
There’s a great chance that the gamemakers made the mutt appear to push you away and make you think of another place to go. Whether that be deeper in the forest, or over here. You need to work quickly, get Blaire his fish and tell him to go back to where his camp is, wherever that may be.
Your eyes travel back to the waterfall, still no movement. The tenant might be out, another reason why the gamemakers pushed you this way, to purposely cause conflict. If it’s Finnick, though, you think he won’t attack. And if he does, he’ll just leave Blaire out of it, since Blaire’s supposed to be his ally, anyway.
You feel something brush by your foot, and it’s enough for you to jump out of your skin. It’s a fish, curious and bold of what’s joined it in the water. You’re still, and stare at it, waiting for it to come back around. And when it does, you slam the sword into it, staining the blood a temporary pink.
“You should go back to your camp.” you tell Blaire, moving out of the water now, “Don’t stay over here. I’ll meet you back at the pond tomorrow, and we can take the walk around back over here.”
“Sure.” Blaire says, taking the fish off the end of your sword, “Thank you, again.”
Blaire must think that he’ll never stop being in your debt, and you’re afraid of that, too. The list keeps getting longer and longer. Eventually, he’s going to try and find something to pay you back with.
“I cleaned the water.” he says, “It’s all nice in there.”
“Thanks.” you dry your feet on your jacket, pulling on your socks and shoes before you unroll your pants. You sling the backpack over your shoulder, drying the blade on your jeans.
Blaire’s ready to go, too. He assures you that he’ll know the way back, and the two of you split. The entire walk to the cornucopia, you feel awful. Almost afraid that someone is following you back. You check several times, and of course, there’s no one there.
The second you’re out of the trees, the feeling subsides.
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shnuggletea · 4 years ago
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InuKag Week 2020
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Anyone else see this gift and have “Here I Go Again” play in their heads to it??
Well, some of you are thinking the worst of Inuyasha right now lol! I really wanted the chapter to end on that last line. You guys are lucky this is for InuKag week or you'd have to wait a week for this part. Since there wasn’t a reunion in part one, here it is! It still isn't really resolved at the end of this one but you only have to wait until tomorrow. @inukag-week​ sorry, I’m bugging you twice today!
Reunion Part Two
I couldn't breathe. Everything felt like it was on fire; my heart, lungs, eyes, and throat. Inuyasha was holding back my hair as I vomited up the nothing on my stomach but I pushed him away hard. Then stumbled away even farther.
"You're married?!"
"Kagome, please. Let me explain!"
I grabbed onto something for support but I really couldn't say what it was. "You're married. What is there to explain?! Oh god is this why you hid us? Why you refused to be the father to your own children?!"
"NO! I told you. That's for your safety…"
I heard his words but I didn't at the same time. "You hid us from your wife! All this time I actually thought our lives were at risk but it was just your life!"
"You and the kids are my life and I hide you to keep you alive!"
"Oh my god," another wave of nausea hit and only half of it was morning sickness, "do you have other children? Do you have another family with her?!"
Inuyasha grabbed my arms and I only let him because I was close to hitting the ground. "I have nothing with her. It was a marriage convenient for my family and forced upon me ten years ago. We lived together for two years, had a few nights of awkward and terrible sex, and then she left. A year later I found you."
I shivered at the thought, how Inuyasha bought me off the stage. How he owned me but I had nothing to tie him to me. I was his sex slave and all this time I was fine with it. It was kinda hot. But now his wife was returning. How would me and our children living in her home look? Moroha looked just like her father, beautiful blonde hair that was pure white. And Sota had glowing golden eyes from Inuyasha. One look and they were clearly his.
"My children really are bastards…" I mumbled in my haze of fear, loss, hurt, and confusion.
Inuyasha gave me a small shake as if to wake me up. "They're not, stop it! They're mine. Just like you're mine. This is a good thing, Kagome, her coming back. It means I can finally divorce her."
Taking a deep breath and trying to settle myself, I pulled out of his hold. "I've never asked or wanted for anything from you by means of commitment, Inuyasha. I've trusted you, believed in you, and bore your children without pause or hesitation. But now? You've broken all we've had."
I was right to spend all night last night in Inuyasha's hold. Because I wasn't sure I'd ever experience it again.
oOo
"That mother fucking asshole."
"Sango!"
I sideways glanced at the children who were in earshot while Sango swore like a sailor. "Sorry."
"And I take offense to that. I was the mother he was ducking." Sango smirked but otherwise stayed somber. "That's why I asked you to bring me those things."
"Because you're cutting him off but baby number three has you needing to get off so bad you need toys?"
"Yes." I said with a defeated sigh.
"When does the wife arrive?"
"Tomorrow. All of it has me feeling more than morning sick. I don't want to see her, Sango."
"Why not?!"
I hung my head in shame. "Because she's his wife while I'm…" a sad laugh and Sango grabbed my shoulder, "I'm not even the mistress. I'm his sex slave. He bought me, brought me here, wrecked me, all while married to another woman? I'm a homewrecker."
"No, she's the homewrecker. You're the one here with a family in this house. It's your home, more than it's hers!"
"You think me and the kids could come stay with you and Miroku for a while?" I begged.
"I'd love to have you but you know Inuyasha will never let you leave."
It was true. I hadn't been outside the compound since I snuck out to OBGYN with Moroha. There was nowhere for me to go, Moroha's school didn't ask anything from the parents except for a check once a semester that Inuyasha sent. The staff handled food and shopping. Sango always came to visit me here, what else was there for me?
Well, there was one thing I would have rather gone and gotten myself, picking up the small bag Sango brought with her that contained a little 'helper'. "So how do I use this?"
oOo
Laying on my side, far away from Inuyasha in his large bed, the one I used to think of as ours, I waited until he stilled and his breathing became even. After considering going to the bathroom for this, I shrugged the idea off. Getting up and going would wake him and then Inuyasha would come check on me when I was in there too long.
Looking at the small egg shaped vibrator, I had a feeling it would take me a while to get what I needed from it.
I had turned it on earlier that day to hear how loud it was and was pleasantly surprised to find it was pretty quiet. Turning it on again, I listened to the soft buzz as it danced between my fingers. Then I slipped it under the covers and pressed it to my clit. It had me swallowing my gasp, over sensitive from my hormones, maybe I had been wrong because this didn't feel like it would take long at all.
The little egg hummed against me and I hummed as softly as I could back. Slipping it a little lower, I considered putting it inside me and using my fingers on my clit when heat pressed into my back and hands wrapped around me.
"Kagome, wake up. You're having a back dream…."
I was so preoccupied I missed the shift in the bed when he moved closer to me. Inuyasha was running his hands over me, trying to wake me up, and he followed my arm down.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing!" I said, elbowing him back a little.
He chuckled a little and returned, grabbing the wrist of the hand that held my egg of pleasure. "If you want it that badly, I'll gladly give it to you."
Now in his control, he rubbed my clit with the egg, using my own hold on it to manipulate it. "Stop it! I don't want you! I don't want you at all that's why I have this!"
"Did Sango bring this with her today? It's not used is it?"
"NO!"
I struggled against his hold but he was far stronger and soon the egg was in his hand instead of mine. He pressed it against my folds, using the tip to draw a circle in and around the skin. All while his cock pressed against my ass. "You've been avoiding me for days, Baby. I can't take much more."
Gripping the sheets before me did little to comfort as he began rubbing his dick between my ass cheeks, stopping only to pull my panties down and my sleep shirt up, out of his way. He kept the egg pressed to my clit and dipped his fingers inside me and I nearly came from the small action.
"Damn, Baby, you're soaked. Are you pregnant again?"
"What?! NO!" I panicked.
He continued to slowly pump his one finger inside me, feeling my walls as if not sure. "You always get like this when you're pregnant. You think I don't notice, but there are a bunch of things that always change when you're knocked up…"
"I'm just horny! Get off me!" I shoved him back with my elbow again. "I don't want to have sex with a married man!"
The bed shook as he worked his briefs lower and freed his cock. "Separated. I've been separated from her for almost a decade." Back against me, the egg he pressed never leaving, he panted right in my ear. "Besides, what's done is done. It's far too late to take it back and I don't regret a single, amazing, second of it." His cock pressed against my ass again and I quivered all over. "I know what you want."
Before I could ask, he reached over me to the nightstand and got out a condom. He only ever used those for one thing. "No."
He was already tearing open the foil. "You love anal when you're this horny."
"No."
Rolling the condom on with one hand and showing skills he had that I always marveled at, his covered cock rubbed at my entrance. "I just need a little lubricant."
He was using me like a bottle of lotion, rubbing between my thighs while he vibrated my clit and created more juices. "Inuyasha, stop."
I said no and stop but still pressed my ass out for him. Because not a single molecule of me actually wanted him to listen to me. I wanted him so bad, it hurt. As much as I hated myself for that, it was in the back of my mind for now, waiting until the rest of me was satisfied. There would be hell later when we finished but right now, I just wanted him to fuck me.
Thoroughly coated, Inuyasha removed his cock from my thighs and found my anus. Then slowly pushed in. Always a little tight at first, he waited for me to adjust before pulling out and sinking back in. "Oh god. You're gripping me so tight, Baby."
He cooed in my ear. I pushed my ass out a little more, silently asking him to go harder. Taking the egg, he slipped it down and pushed it up into my pussy, his fingers finding and pinching my clit before he took off behind me. With his free hand under me, he reached around and grabbed my breast, flicking my nipple in tempo with how he flicked my clit.
Any thoughts of any kind turned to mush as my entire body lit on fire. Inuyasha was bucking into my ass so hard, his balls clapped my entrance. I was gushing, the egg slipping around inside me and buzzing my g-spot. And my clit and nipple throbbed along with my walls.
I could feel Inuyasha's teeth on my skin but there was far too much other stimulus to register any more as I came so hard it hurt. Anyone that heard my screams might burst through the door any second now because it sounded like Inuyasha was killing me. And in a way, he was, my mind going numb with pleasure as I tumbled hard into ecstasy. I was still coming when he dug the vibrator out of me, putting his fingers in instead to feel me pulse around them. I felt the heat of his come as he filled the condom inside my ass. His groans sounded visceral behind me, telling me he was coming just as hard as I was.
His touch left me, Inuyasha rising to get rid of the condom and wash. The room was in and out as I blacked out a few times from the intensity of my orgasm. It was always a little scary when it happened but it was far from the first time Inuyasha had made me come so hard that I blacked out.
Now satisfied, those thoughts came roaring. I'd just had sex with a married man again. I couldn't stop it seemed.
Curling into myself, I returned to my solitary side but Inuyasha wasn't having it, curling right up around me from behind. He was kissing my neck, taking a fistful of hair and pulling it out of his way to place hot spit on my skin. "Get off of me."
His arms only wrapped around me tighter. "No."
"Inuyasha!"
"I gave you space,Kagome. But now I can't give you anymore." Proving his words, he wrapped a leg around me. "Especially with you pregnant again."
"I'm not pregnant." The lie rolled off my tongue with ease but his lies had for years.
"You should take a test. Or call see your doctor here."
"I'm not pregnant."
"Whatever you say, Kagome."
He was stroking my belly just over my womb. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not of being right or in being a father again. Not when my future with him was so uncertain. All I'd done for the past three days was think about us, about our past, looking for any clues that he was using me as the sex slave I was instead of more like I had thought for years. There were moments of such tenderness and care, longing looks my way or soft caresses without sex involved or staring deep into my eyes while he was deep inside of me, things like that had made me think we were more than slave and owner. But then there were other moments that truly made me wonder.
"The first time we had sex, you tied me up."
"You want me to tie you up again? It was really fun those other times…"
"You told me it was so I didn't mark you. Was that so your wife didn't see?"
He sighed, loud and pissed, against my back. The heat of it made it through my thin sleep shirt. "No. I told you. Over and over again I didn't hide you from her I hid you from everyone. You still have no clue who I am do you? You don't know how easy it would be for one of my enemies to break me through you or the children."
"I never cared who you were outside this house. Because that's not the man I spent my time with. But I guess I should have cared. Then I would have known just where I stood."
He lifted and turned, holding his head over me to look down at me. "And where is that?!"
"Where I've always been. What you told me I was from the start. I'm your whore. Your sex slave."
I was on my back in a heartbeat, molten and angry eyes glaring down at me. "I have never treated you like a slave or a whore."
"Yes you did. All this time you did because you were married. I'm the other woman. Not even that much."
He got dangerously close to my face and growled. "You're right, you're not the other woman. You're my woman. Mine. And I didn't tell you about Kikyo because she didn't matter. Not to me and not to who you and I are together…"
"Of course, because I'm just your slave so why would you tell me..."
Sighing again, his anger flooded out of him and he rolled off of me to lay with his back to me. "You'll see soon enough, Kagome. I'll prove your worth to me."
oOo
I wanted to hide, I really did. But with the grand fanfare and the children getting interested, I found myself standing at the top of the staircase with the two of them. Inuyasha was as cool as a cucumber, as was the rest of the staff for some reason. I was the only one sweating as the large car pulled up out front and unloaded the entourage that had my babies so intrigued.
As far as Inuyasha's side, there was little flare and no dramatics. It all came from his wife and her people as they pushed inside. For a moment, I thought it would be hard to pinpoint the wife. But once I saw her I was sure.
Long, pin straight and perfect black hair down her back and a pale yellow dress, she was easy to spot. I was a little upset at first, thinking we looked too similar to be okay with. Then she removed her large sunglasses and saw we were actually complete opposites. My hair was never so perfect, curly waves that stopped in the middle of my back. And this woman was slim, more than I had ever been even before children.
Her gray eyes flashed up to mine, another large difference. As she climbed the stairs, Inuyasha following close behind as they discussed minor things like her travels and the weather, it was clear to see this woman also came from money.
Getting to the top, Sota wrapped around my leg while Moroha stood tall next to me. The wife stopped for a second, looking us over and surely seeing the traits Inuyasha implanted in his children as I did every day. If she did, she said nothing, turning with a huff and continuing on. Inuyasha paused to pass the kids a bright smile brimming with love. His eyes went to me for a second, something inside them I couldn't read before following behind the wife.
It got late and I put the children to bed. Not sure but with nowhere else to go, I made for what was mine and Inuyasha's bedroom. Going slow with my indecision, I was passed by the wife again. This time when he passed, his fingers brushed across my spine before quickly disappearing.
"I have a room set up for you…" Inuyasha began.
"Why?" Kikyo challenged, turning to face Inuyasha and me as I stood frozen in the middle of the hall. "This is my room and my bed. I want to sleep in it."
Without another word about it, Kikyo stepped inside. Leaving me alone with Inuyasha.
He sighed loudly, scrubbing his face. "I guess you can take the guest room…"
"Why not send me to a hotel at least? Why do I have to be here to see this? You're such an asshole Inuyasha."
"I know."
Turning, my only reprieve was that the guest room was on the other end of the house. That way I wouldn't have to hear Inuyasha and his wife make love tonight.
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taylorroger-s · 5 years ago
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good company [1] // billy/four x tattooartist!reader
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a/n so this came as an invasive thought one random night. might be caused by my recent addiction to tattoo videos. also i wanted to read something like this but sadly, i had to write it. and i think it turned out pretty good! plus i wanted to draw this out since i got hit by a wave of nine million ideas and it’s pointless to smush everything together when I can write it all out. and thus, this mini series was born. hope y’all enjoy!!! (me writing this: god i wish that were me) 
summary: you are brand new to the tattooing world; young, scrappy, and eager to prove yourself, you took the first opportunity offered to you. your first client? a young man named billy, who’s character puzzles you to no end.
masterlist here!
warnings: uhhh tattoos (duh), cursing, ~tension~ and the like. clocks in at about 6.3k words
enjoy :)
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it was the seediest shop in town, and the only one to give you a chance. young, scrappy, and determined to make your passion for tattooing a reality, you took the first real offer you got. after a few months doing an apprenticeship with a veteran of your new tattoo parlor, they gave you a table and chair in the corner and told you to get to it. he was your very first client.
the day started off with tidying up the counter and turning on the open sign. your first few hours as an official tattoo artist were spent at the meager “reception” desk, furiously doodling any design that struck your fancy. occasionally you would give out forms and verify ages, but the shop was more into efficiency and artistry than sticking to professional protocol. they did hire you, after all.
several hours and one brief argument with a coworker later, you plopped down on the chair at your tattoo station for lunch. while nibbling at your cheese sandwich, you took a moment to examine the room further. five other tattoo artists were hunched over their own work, chugging along while their clients cringed and bit their lips in pain. framed photographs of tattoos and artwork lined the walls, broken up by miscellaneous wall hangings and the occasional pipe. chatter filled the room, just barely overpowering the music streaming from a clunky radio set up by the waiting area. 
then he walked in, all ropey muscles and bright eyes, no more than a year or two older than you. he wore a grey jacket with the hood pulled up, letting just a few stands of honey blond hair peek through. his eyes swept back and forth across the stations, each one occupied except for your small set up in the far corner. you glanced up from the tree you had been drawing, almost falling off your chair once you saw how strikingly attractive the boy was. 
you couldn’t help but watch as a heavily tattooed woman - stacy, one of the most experienced at the shop - walked up to the desk and greeted the boy. you unconsciously leaned towards the two, attempting to eavesdrop on their conversation. the pen wedged between your fingers fell to the floor, but you hardly noticed. 
“i’d… like a tattoo please.” he spoke confidently, almost brash in his tone, but the way his shoulders tensed with each loud laugh and how his eyes darted back and forth from stacy’s face to the floor betrayed his anxiety. his hands were shoved in his pockets, fingers visibly squirming behind the gray fabric. he was nervous, despite being a good few inches taller than stacy and twice as broad. 
“what’s the name, love?” she asked, tucking a strand of dark blue hair behind her ear. half of her head was buzzed, the rest of her hair peppered with gray strands. tattoos snaked down from behind her ear to the column of her throat, the rest disappearing beneath a “sex pistols” shirt. she wore her age proudly on her face, smile lines creasing the skin around her bright red lips. stacy was almost like the mother of the shop, and had been there longer than anybody.
“billy.” his voice was borderline too deep for such a young face, hood slipping down a little further to expose more of his wavy blond hair. you were well aware at that point that you were staring at him, mind whirling with a million possibilities as to where such a person could come from and why he wanted a tattoo. there were upwards of three different designs you mentally listed that you thought would enhance his good looks. maybe something on his arms? or neck? you stood by the belief that tattoos could make anyone more attractive, though your parents would beg to differ. 
“alright then, what are you wanting to get?” stacy pulled out a clipboard, writing down his information with a pen adorned by cracked beads and colorful string hanging from the cap. 
“some numbers and letters on my knuckles, on uh… my right hand? four of them.” you gripped your sketchbook tighter, barely resisting the urge to grab your pencil and start doodling fonts. however, it was a long shot that you were going to end up with him as a client, your first client, which marginally deflated your enthusiasm. you took a large bite from your sandwich instead of drawing, turning your attention back to him and stacy. 
“splendid, let’s see who’s open… oh um, please give me a moment.” stacy glanced around the room, searching for an empty chair. she grimaced inwardly as she realized there were none, save for the one right in front of you that was occupied by your propped up feet and a brown lunch bag. you couldn’t read further into her expression before she turned away from both him and you, walking over to the middle aged owner of the tattoo parlor. tom was a sour character, but could tattoo better than most of the more respectable artists in the city. you attempted to focus once more on the sandwich in your hand and not the boy while stacy tugged on tom’s baggy tank top. 
“tom, there’s this kid here for a tattoo and no one is free.” tom looked up for no more than three seconds, tattoo machine clutched between his surprisingly thin fingers. he must have been in his early fifties, and weighed more than you and stacy combined. he was in the process of inking a bold skull on the back of a young man, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. 
“what about our little birdie over there? she’s free, yeah?” tom huffed, clearly annoyed at being disturbed. birdie was the nickname you got after bringing mostly bird-related art to your interview, and it showed no signs of going away. stacy flicked him on the forehead, nearly making him slip and mess up a line. he glowered at her, but still turned to listen. 
“no shit, but knuckles for a first tattoo? do you really think she’s up to it?” stacy had taken you under her wing from the get go, even offering a patch of skin on her arm for you to do your first tattoo. her protection was a comfort, but also a little stifling. she knew you were a good artist, maybe even great, but there were certain tricks to tattooing hands you hadn’t quite learned. she didn’t want you to mess up on your first tattoo and leave the boy with a messy bundle of lines instead of letters. 
“why not? he doesn’t look that picky. now fuck off and leave me alone.” he spoke gruffly, the cigarette between tom’s lips moved precariously back and forth. he turned back to his client, but not before flipping stacy the bird, to which she replied with an obscene gesture of her own. 
“bastard…” she grumbled, tugging mindlessly at a strand of hair just barely covering her eye. taking a deep breath, she walked over to you, plastering a wide smile on her lips. stacy was genuinely excited for you to begin tattooing, but it was difficult for her to step back and let you do your own thing. 
“alright babe, your time to shine. ready to do some knuckle lettering?” your jaw would have fallen open if it hadn’t been for the cheese sandwich filling your mouth. your eyes grew wide and you quickly swallowed the food down, doing you very best to process what exactly stacy meant. 
“what? me? but-” you shook your head, appetite suddenly lost. did she mean it was your time to actually tattoo? a paying human being? they must be mental, you thought to yourself, moving to put the rest of your lunch away. as soon as your sandwich was placed in the brown paper bag, stacy seized you by the arm and began dragging you over to where he was waiting. 
“sorry for the delay, this is y/n. she’ll be your artist today,” you suppressed a laugh, looking at stacy with your eyebrows raised. she just smiled and let go of your arm, giving you a push towards him. you barely saved yourself from stumbling, quickly straightening your spine and lifting your chin to look him in the eyes. his bright, beautiful, green eyes. dammit. 
“oh- that’s me, i’m y/n. and it looks like i’m gonna be your tattooist,” you gave him a little wave, doing your very best to smile professionally instead of grimace. he nodded in response, bringing his hands out of his pockets. he seemed to consider shaking your hand, but instead moved to rub the back of his neck. you fiddled with your fingers, not knowing what to do next. he was your first client, after all. 
“i’m billy. um, how much will this cost?” he stuttered a little, shrinking back into his gray hoodie. until that moment, you had almost entirely forgotten that you were doing this for a job, to get paid. 
“uhhh,” you were blindsided by a very common question, and looked to stacy for help. she stared at billy for a moment, tapping her index finger on the counter. he squirmed a little under her sharp gaze. his eyes flicked to you, locking onto yours. he was looking for an out, but you just shrugged, apologetic look on your face. 
“mm, about forty pounds.” she finally said after a solid couple seconds. he let out a small breath, shoulders falling. his lips fell as well, tweaking down at the corners. he reached into the pocket of his joggers, bringing out a five pound note, two 2 pound coins, and five 20 pence coins. ten pounds in all. 
“bollocks… i only have ten on me.”  you felt bad for billy, really. you remembered how you spent weeks saving up before you could get your first real tattoo; a small raven right above your hip. hurt like hell, but from that moment on, you were addicted. the ones you got before that were terribly done, with homemade equipment, and usually done by you. 
“i don’t know what to tell you then-” stacy started to apologize, but an idea began forming in your brain. bigger tattoo pieces could take upwards of twelve hours, so they were often done in multiple sessions. a knuckle tattoo wouldn’t take nearly as long, nor was it necessary to spread out appointments. but before you could stop yourself, the words fell out. 
“i can just do one. today, i mean. you can come in whenever you have the rest of the money.” you could hear stacy’s sigh, and couldn’t help but cringe as well. billy’s eyebrows shot up, and he opened his mouth to talk, but he couldn’t seem to decide on words and shut it again. a moment passed in painfully awkward silence, you looking anywhere but at billy. stacy sighed again, laying a hand on your shoulder. 
“okay birdie, i have an appointment in seven minutes and you seem to have this under control, yeah?” you turned your head so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash. being alone and in close quarters with billy after only a few minutes after meeting him freaked you out more than it should. you were theoretically a tattoo artist, and that was an unavoidable point of the job. it was basically painting on someone’s skin with a needle for multiple hours at a time. 
“i guess so…” she gave you a soft smile, rubbing your shoulder with the ink-free skin of her palm. you smiled back. you could tell she was a little worried, but so were you. 
“you’ll do great sweetheart, just don’t- maggie! so good to see you, love…” she was about to give you sage advice, but her next client came a few minutes early and in an instant, you were alone. well, except for billy of course. you psyched yourself up for a moment before turning to him with your best professional smile. 
“well then, let’s head over to my chair.” you told him, walking almost halfway there before you turned around to see he hadn’t moved a step. odd. billy was still looking around the room, eyeing the beams on the ceiling and highly decorated walls. his shoulders were tensed and he had taken his hands from his pockets, fingers twitching as his eyes scanned the shop. he looked ready to run at the slightest movement. the hell? you exhaled heavily through your nose, walking back over to him and waving a hand in front of his face.
“you in there?” you asked, taking a step back when his gaze snapped to you, “ah, it seems like you are. ready to get tattooed?” what a peculiar person, you thought to yourself. he shifted back onto his heels with impeccable balance, taking off his hood in one fluid motion. his honey blond hair was styled into a short undercut. you shook off the dazed look in your eyes, and in a surprisingly bold move, held out a hand for him to take. 
“hell yeah.” he finally said, a sharp smile creeping onto his lips. you smiled back, letting the first-day jitters roll off your shoulders. maybe spending time with him wouldn’t be as tense as you expected. he took your hand, and you started to lead him back to your little station in the corner. his palms were surprisingly calloused compared to your never-seen-a-day-of-manual-labor hands. 
“perfect,” you said after stopping at your station. you dropped his hand, gesturing for him to sit on the chair meant for clients. you snatched your sketchbook from the small square table, digging out a pen from a years old pencil pouch you had yet to part with. 
“now, you have any fonts in mind? actually, a better question would be what do you actually want on your knuckles?” you already started to doodle, sketching out a curly, cursive alphabet starting with “a”. lettering wasn’t your favorite thing to draw, but there was always flexibility when it came to art. and you loved art. 
“2-2-E-S on my right hand. just black letters would be fine.” you deflated slightly, tearing your eyes away from the whimsical “b” you were drawing. he sat with his elbows on his knees, fingers knitted together. until then, you didn’t realize how close you were. you lifted your eyes to meet his, faces no more than eight inches apart. the tension between you two drew taut, yanking the breath from your lungs. he was mesmerizing. you laughed to break the moment and leaned back in your chair, letting it roll away from his focused gaze. he shifted as well, crossing his arms over his chest. 
“no design at all? shame on you sir.” you teased, almost immediately cursing yourself for acting so casual out of nowhere. while you were scolding yourself for being unprofessional, billy watched the minute changes in your expression as you mindlessly tapped your pen against the spiral binding of your sketchbook. he noticed that you had your right pinky extended as you drew, perfectly straight as your pen swept across the page. your eyes flicked up for a moment to meet his, then immediately dropped again before you could end up blushing. 
“i’m not really the creative type anyway.” his voice felt so familiar and alien at the same time. like every single boy you had ever known - cocky, fast talking, scrambling for a laugh. yet there was something more behind his deep voice and quick movements. you shook your head, dragging yourself back into the real world. 
“somehow i don’t buy that,” you couldn’t see him smile, focused instead on making the last line of the “e” straight as possible. you held the drawing away from your face once completed, tilting it back and forth. your innate need for perfectionism only grew after you decided tattooing would be your career, and every piece of art you did since then had to be flawless in case you would have the chance to put it on someone’s body. after a moment, you nodded, turning the page around so he could see it. 
“four plain black numbers and letters, as requested. looks good?” you were quite proud of the nearly perfect lines and proportions. it cooled the nerves simmering under your skin as the tattoo machine lay waiting in a shallow drawer. 
“yeah, yeah. good.” he nodded, moving to roll up the sleeves of his jacket and put his right hand on his knee, right within your reach. you took a moment to tear off the page, making sure your letters were still nice and neat. 
“excellent, give me a moment to get this stencil-” you started to stand up, paper pinched between your index finger and thumb. you were about to go to the printer by the back wall, but billy piped up before you could take a step. 
“you don’t have to do that,” you froze, turning on your heel to watch him. he had leaned back onto the palms of his hands, still seated in your client’s chair. 
“what?” you asked, voice coming out almost as a squeak. you immediately cleared your voice and he smiled a little.
“i mean, you don’t have to use a stencil. just freehand it, i don’t mind.” he just shrugged it off like having someone draw with a goddamn needle on his skin was just another day at work. 
“you do realize i could very easily fuck up and leave you with permanent lines on your hand, right?” you were starting to wonder if he actually didn’t know tattoos were permanent, especially since getting them on a visible place like your hands would scare away most employers in a heartbeat. actually, what job did he have? the money he showed was a slim window into his life; ten pounds in various, loose forms. now that brought you back to university in a flash. 
“in fact, i do.” you raised your hands to the sky in a “why me?” gesture before dropping them back down to your sides, integrity of your sketch forgotten. he snickered at your - overly - dramatic reaction, to which you responded with a quick glare. why did i have to get such a memorable first client? 
“must be in a rush.” you shrugged, accepting that this was how the next thirty minutes of your life would play out. you were about to throw the page of your sketchbook in the trash, but changed your mind at the last minute and stuck it in one of the drawers of your small table. you then grabbed your pencil bag again, rooting around until you came up with two pens: one light green, the other black.
billy was silent as he watched you shuffle around the space, taking out your hand-me-down tattoo machine from the top drawer of your table. you gently placed it on the table top, laying out a small cap and filling it with a brand new bottle of jet black ink. you put the pens on the seat next to him, opening a second drawer that contained a disposable razor and replacement parts, sealed wipes, towels, and other things for sterilization. 
one of the most important things to remember is cleanliness, you heard the voice of stacy echo in your ear. you cast a look over your shoulder to where she was, watching for a moment as she carefully laid a stencil on her client’s leg. you watched her for a moment until she stood back up from where she was crouching and looked back at you, giving you an encouraging thumbs up. you returned the gesture with your best play on a confident smile. 
“you all alright?” billy asked, pulling you immediately back into the task before you. 
“mhm,” you responded, lips pressed close together. you pulled on a pair of latex gloves and plucked a razor and wipe from the drawer. 
“give me your hand,” you told him, taking a seat on your rolling chair. he held out his right hand and you gently took it in your left, shifting his fingers so the knuckle of his pinky finger was between your own. you scooted forward until you were almost between his knees, doing your best to wholly focus on the razor in your hand and definitely not how warm he was and how his hand felt in yours. nope, not going to think of that at all.
slowly, carefully, you cleaned his knuckle, making sure that there was no way possible for an infection to set in. you could hear billy humming to himself quietly and tuned in to listen. it was hard to make out the song, but something about it tugged at your memory. you shook it off and tossed the sanitizing supplies into a nearby rubbish bin. you turned back to billy, surprised to see him holding out the pens for you with a small smirk on his lips. slowly, you took them, tensing as your fingers brushed his. 
“just a 2 for today then,” you muttered, almost to yourself, not waiting for an answer and diving right in to recreate the perfect number “2” you had drawn just minutes earlier, on his knuckle. you were so silent that it was nearly possible to hear his heartbeat as the light green sharpie swept over his skin. it was a relatively awkward place to tattoo- right on the joint between his pinky finger and hand. since it was so close to his bone, it would be more painful than he might expect. even drawing it was tedious as you tried to make the lines connect smoothly over the joint. billy watching you draw very carefully didn’t help the anxiety that started to simmer under your skin.  
once you were satisfied with how it looked, you grabbed the black pen and repeated the drawing, tensing every muscle in your body to keep your hand from shaking. the nerves were already coming and you hadn’t even started up the tattoo machine. you leaned back into the light, holding up his hand to inspect your penmanship. billy stared at you as you held his finger up to the light, carefully scrutinizing your work without noticing his gaze. he watched the small crease between your eyebrows form as your thumb swiped at the ink. you glanced up momentarily and met his eyes, and in that moment you could have sworn he blushed. hell, you might have too.
you looked at him for a beat then dropped his hand like it was a hot rock. it was hard to ignore the tingle shooting down your spine as his lingering warmth faded from your hand. it’s just the nerves, dumbass, you said to yourself, now hush up and do your job. you cleared your throat, immediately turning around in your chair and sliding over to finish setting up your tattoo machine. you soon froze when there was nothing left for you to waste time doing. you had to get started. 
it’s fine, you’re fine, this is just a man, a boy even. a nice, attractive, fit… goddammit. you were mentally cursing yourself as you slowly turned to face him again. billy just smiled, holding out his right hand to you. you took a deep breath in and pulled on a new pair of latex gloves. 
“alright, ready freddie?” you said to him, taking his hand in yours, repeatedly chanting ‘don’t fuck up’ to yourself. 
“ready.” he responded, letting his hand relax into yours. you moved his fingers so his pinky finger was front and center, the perfect “2” you had drawn clear against his skin. with your right hand, you picked up the tattoo machine, dipping the tip of it in ink. 
“here we go.” the tattoo machine started with a buzz as you pressed on the pedal. you took a deep breath and touched the needles to his skin, right at the top of the “2”. billy’s fingers quickly tensed, holding tighter onto your hand. you tried not to smile while you slowly pulled the needle across his skin. he took a sharp breath in, holding it for a moment before slowly releasing it. his hand stayed clasped around yours as the tattoo machine hummed between your fingers. 
minutes passed with no conversation. the buzz of the tattoo machine helped you tune out the various sensations trying to distract you. hard rock from a nearby speaker, an occasional bout of laughter or pained shriek from across the room, steady humming from billy that you still vaguely recognized. eventually, about a third of the way through the tattoo, you started to get antsy from the lack of talking and had to break the silence. 
“hmm… what’s billy short for?” you asked, wiping off some excess ink from his finger. you looked up at him, slightly surprised to see him focused entirely on your face. he cleared his throat, using his free hand to comb through his short blond hair. 
“william.” you couldn’t help the small smile that flickered across your lips, dipping the needle into the ink once more. a name like william didn’t fit with his scrappy, self-assured attitude and appearance. neither did billy, for that matter. 
“was billy always your go-to nickname? ever gone by will? or liam?” you went back in with the needle, billy hissing through his teeth as it punctured his skin again and again. 
“my primary school teacher always insisted on william, which made me hate it. she was a major arsehole, mind you.” you chuckled, wiping off more excess ink. 
“now that i understand. i knew a william once, but he went by… will, i think. he also gained the unfortunate nickname of ‘willy’ somewhere around secondary school.” billy laughed loudly, drawing the attention of a few others in the room. and he moved. you drew the tattoo machine back just in time, narrowly avoiding a potential accident. you glared at him, but he couldn’t take the frown on your face seriously and continued his chuckling. 
“you done?” you asked when he finally calmed down. he nodded, still smiling like a school boy.
“sorry, i have the humor of a twelve year old.” you rolled your eyes, biting hard on your bottom lip to ward off a smile. but it didn’t work. it felt terribly natural to be around him and you were not having it. 
“i’ve noticed.” you muttered, glancing back up to billy. you raised an eyebrow at him in a silent question and he nodded, letting you return to your work. dipping the needle in ink, you once again put it to his skin, and once again, his hand tightened around your own. 
“so, how long have you been tattooing?” billy asked, after a minute or two of silence had passed. you lifted the needle for a moment, thinking about your answer. 
“like, professionally?” you had certainly tattooed under less than proper circumstances. on drunk people and often drunk yourself. your roommate in university had a horrendous bird silhouette between her shoulder blades, and your very first love had your name inked on their ankle. you had done it yourself two days after discovering they cheated on you. but you didn’t really want to divulge those… questionable stories to a client. 
“uh, i guess.” he said, voice suddenly tinged with concern. you spotted a chance to mess with him and immediately went for it.
“about,” you glanced up to the clock fixed to the wall, “twenty minutes.” you bit back another smile at the fearful look in his eyes. it didn’t stop you from snorting with laughter, though. 
“your warnings make sense now.” he was speaking slower than before, which only made the moment funnier. to you, at least. 
“i’m thrilled. you scared yet?” you teased, smirk growing by the second. he laughed nervously, rolling his eyes at you. your shoulders relaxed, and you didn’t even realize how tense you had been until that moment. the playful banter back and forth with billy swept your earlier nerves right away. 
“not even close, birdie.” you groaned, a nervous laugh slipping past your lips. it felt a little weird to have someone other than your fellow tattooists call you birdie, but you could listen to billy say it for hours with that smooth, deep voice of h- OH MY GOD, you screamed internally. stop. fantasizing. about. your. CLIENT. 
“ah, you’ve heard my nickname. what can i say? i like birds.” you laughed again, a little too high pitched to be normal. he raised his eyebrows in confusion, but went back to his tense state as you started to tattoo again. 
“i like it, much better than billy.” you bit back yet another smile. he was really starting to worm his way under your skin, and in such a short amount of time. but you had to agree with him. he looked more like a… well, you couldn’t think of any other names that fit him but billy was certainly not anywhere near a fitting name for such an interesting - to say the least - person. 
“now that i have to agree with.” you said, still chipping away at your work in progress tattoo. he chuckled, shifting in his seat. 
“you are coldhearted, woman.” he declared, and you couldn’t help but let out a short laugh. 
“oh, i aspire.”
too soon, yet also not soon enough, you finished. you wiped away the last of the ink and blood - don’t worry, it’s normal - from his finger, lifting it up to the light. the tattoo turned out rather nice. the “2” was plain black, thick, and relatively free of wobbles. it warped a little as billy flexed his fingers, but that was to be expected. he started to stand up once you let go, but you stopped him with a hand to his chest. you could feel his heartbeat under your palm, and slowly drew your hand back. a moment passed in perfect silence where the only thing you could hear was his breathing, and the only thing you could feel was the residual warmth radiating from him. 
“slow down there, i still need to bandage it.” you said after clearing your throat. he sat back down, thankfully making sure to not use his freshly tattooed hand. you took a step back. then another. and then almost ran into your table. flashing billy a quick, slightly embarrassed smile, you turned your back to him and focused on getting out the clingfilm, bandage, and ointment that was standard procedure for tattoo aftercare. 
“okay, so,” you started, turning back around with an armful of health care products. billy was still seated on your chair, right hand resting on his knee.
“what you should do is try not to use your hands for a couple days, plus, your knuckles might swell up and it’ll hurt like hell to use them. gotta keep the area nice and clean with this ointment,” you held it up for him to see, then put it down by his side, “a good thing to do is wear is some nitrile gloves to keep a barrier between your hand and the horrors of the outdoors,” you took a small container of gloves from your pile, placing it right next to the ointment.
“here’s a little pamphlet thing if you want it,” you took it from in between your arm and side, adding it to the small pile on billy’s left. he was nodding along with your instructions, but his eyes were wandering from your face to examine the rest of the tattoo shop once again. you ignored him ignoring you, and got to work bandaging his finger.
“okay billy boy, you’re all set.” you said once you made sure his bandage was airtight and clean. you rolled yourself over to the trash can, disposing of your latex gloves and other used-up items. when you came back to your station, billy was back on his feet, almost unconsciously flexing his fingers to see if his right pinky still worked. spoiler alert, it did, and he was just paranoid. probably.
he seemed a little unfocused until you spoke, then immediately turned his attention back to you. he stuck his non-tattooed hand out for you to shake. still a strange guy, you said to yourself. 
“thanks, uh…” you felt a grin growing, and this time, you didn’t try to stop it. plus, he seemed to have forgotten your name, which was objectionably hilarious. is that why he called me birdie? and how does he remember ‘birdie’ and not my name? 
“y/n,” you confirmed, shaking his hand. billy smiled at you, showing a hint of bright white teeth. 
“y/n. here,” you almost shivered hearing him say your name.  you almost didn’t notice he was holding out the money until he cocked his head to the side, giving you a confused look. it looked almost like he was pouting. you let out a nervous giggle, cringing internally the second it passed. billy didn’t seem to mind, laughing along with you. it soon devolved into a laughing fit as you finally accepted the awkwardness of the situation. many of the other people in the shop shot the two of you quizzical glances, but that didn’t stop you from nearly falling over with laughter. what were you laughing at? nothing, really. it just felt good to be so wildly happy for a brief moment. 
billy started to walk away waving goodbye. you raised your hand to do the same, but froze halfway. there was something you wanted to know before he left for an undetermined amount of time. 
“wait! i never got to ask you what it meant. the tattoo.” he was halfway to the door but turned at the last moment, in the process of pulling the hood back over his golden hair.  
“i’ll be back soon, i hope. i’ll tell you then.” you brightened at that, giving him a playful salute. billy returned the gesture, even adding a silly wink for good measure. 
“i’d like that. until next time, billy.” he gave you one last wave as he strolled out the door, and you watched as he walked past the windows and eventually disappeared from sight. for a moment, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from that spot. a high pitched laugh broke your focus, and you whirled around to see stacy giggling at you.
“what?” you asked, doing your best attempt at a glare. stacy just smiled, batting her eyelashes as innocently as possible. crossing your arms over your chest, you started to say something, but got interrupted. 
“nothing. say, tom, do you think this is how most people behave after doing a tattoo?" she called out in a sing-song voice. tom was in the middle of cleaning up after his client left, but for some reason decided this was the time to cash in one of his few conversation checks. 
"no." tom responded gruffly, and blissfully brief. stacy grinned again, turning on her heel to face you. you opened your mouth to retort, but your mind went blank and you ended up just standing there with nothing to say. what could you say? you were stressed because your first tattoo was a knuckle tattoo? that it was stuffy and looking out the window made it less so? that you had developed an immediate crush on your first client? fresh out of ideas, you blurted out the next thing that came to mind. 
"i smelled bad… uh… yeah. i-i smelled bad, and i was embarrassed. i was watching him through the window to see if he had any reaction from being away from my… smell." you wished for a second that time travel existed just so you could go back to that exact moment, after you figured out a good response, to stop yourself from looking like a fool. because oh what a fool you sounded like. stacy could tell. tom could tell. and you bet that billy would be able to tell as well. stacy shook her head, visibly trying to stop herself from laughing. even tom seemed to have a smile tugging at his lips. 
"you keep telling yourself that, love. now buck up, don’t know when the next customer is gonna come in. gotta be ready, you know, if you happen to be the only one free…” you immediately perked up, billy momentarily scrubbed from the forefront of your mind. the chance to do more tattoos, more of what you loved, had you interested in a split second. your eyes drifted to your discarded sketchbook on the other end of the room. 
“you serious?” you asked, nervous edge clinging to your word. more freedom came with more chances to fuck up, but now that you got over an initial nervous edge thanks to billy, you were rearing to go. stacy looked equally excited for you, and equally worried. but she came over and patted you on the shoulder. 
“deadly. now go, there is art to be inked.” you were bouncing on your toes, but took a moment to lean right into her, even giving her a quick side hug. 
“yes ma’am.” you mock saluted her, then almost skipped back to your chair. you sat back in your swivel chair, letting it roll you to your small side table. you started to pick up the discarded papers, but found your mind drifting back to him. to billy. 
the thought that he would be back eventually brought a small smile to your lips. it could be a few days, a week, a month, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t flake out. it was just a matter of time. plus, he was good company. 
⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱
so,,, what’s the vibe with this lads? please lmk if y’all wanna see more!
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aliceslantern · 4 years ago
Text
Give/Take, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 7
Ienzo has been too busy since the war to be overwhelmed by the past. But with little progress to be made in his work with Kairi, old nightmares start to invade.
Riku is a glorified housesitter. Lonely and faced with no choice but to wait for a way to find his friends, he eagerly accepts when Ienzo asks him to help do repairs around the castle. Before long, the two strike up an unlikely friendship, united by their dark pasts and their attempts to be better people.
But just as they begin to consider something more... Kairi wakes up.
Ienzoku (Ienzo/Riku), post-Melody of Memory, slow burn. Updates Thursdays until it's done.
Chapter summary:  Kairi wakes up, and thinks she has a clue as to where Sora might be. Riku and Ienzo are separated.
Read it on FF.net/on AO3
---
The day had made him raw, and Ienzo was jittery. He needed to sleep, and he had a feeling they both needed to think and process what had just happened. Riku walked him to his room. “Will you be around tomorrow?” Ienzo asked. The borders between them had shifted, changed, and he wasn’t really sure what to make of it.
He shook his head. “I actually have to go for a few days. Mickey and Yen Sid wanted to see me about the dreams. For once… having something to do…”
“No longer so appealing?” Ienzo smirked. “I see.”
“He wants to tell me what they’ve found so far, but I have a feeling… it’ll be nothing.” He sighed. “At least the food there is good.”
Ienzo laughed a little. “Travel safely,” he said. “I’d like to keep you all in one piece.”
“I don’t think that will be an issue.”
A pause, a beat. It was very clear Riku wanted to kiss him again.
Ienzo felt a flush in his face. “That’s your cue to kiss me goodnight,” he said.
“Right. Ah--”
He did so, lightly. It was clear that learning how to do this properly would take time, but already it was less fumbling. Ienzo wanted to pull him close, to bury his hands in that long soft hair. He settled for squeezing him chastely around the waist, and kissed his forehead when they broke apart. “This is all new, I know.”
“Very,” he agreed. “So… I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes. Goodnight.” He watched him walk away before slowly easing himself over to the bed.
Well.
He felt giddy. Dizzy. He couldn’t help the uneven smile on his face. He wanted to hold onto this happiness, to understand it better, but already doubt was creeping in, self-loathing. Rather than cave into these thoughts, Ienzo… fought them.
You’ll corrupt him.
He said in so many words he wants someone like me.
You don’t understand feelings. You’ll hurt him.
This is new for him too.
What happens when Sora and Kairi come back and he leaves you in the dust?
Does a solid year of friendship and flirting mean nothing ? Let me have this. Please just fucking let me have this.
Ienzo blinked. Did he deserve this, this unfamiliar happiness? The sudden whisper of potential ? “I think I do,” he whispered aloud, and felt a tear roll down his face.
He lay down and slept heavily for the longest time he had in weeks.
---
With the morning sun came reality. He’d hoped to see Riku off, but he’d overslept, and the hallways where they lived seemed emptier than normal. Ienzo shook his head dazedly, shed his dirty clothes, and took a shower. His body felt unusually heavy, or maybe he was just more aware of it, aware of every bit that had been touched. When was the last time someone had touched him? Ansem’s paternal squeeze of the hand did not count. When was the last time he’d been hugged? It was all so intense, and his skin felt almost itchy, almost thirsty . Despite warm water, he trembled, and he remained there until Dilan yelled at him through his bedroom door to save some hot water for the rest of them.
Ienzo got out of the shower. Slowly. For once, he actually looked at himself in the mirror instead of immediately dropping his eyes. He took a deep, shaky breath. If this continued…
He drew his fingers delicately across the scar at his throat, which was still thick, angry, and pink. He’d have to tell him that this was what the Riku replica had done. Moreover… if things went further still… there was the unfortunate reality of… He swallowed hard, forcing his eyes up from the all-too-empty space between his legs. He was getting way ahead of himself. They’d just kissed , and that did not necessarily imply more. He tried to draw his focus away from there, trying not to feel the utter blankness between his thighs.
Regardless of how far things physically went, would it be prudent to tell him about this? Ienzo didn’t have to, he knew, but just for full disclosure--
He can get over the reality of what you’ve done, but he can’t get over the fact that you have a--
Ienzo flinched inwardly, cutting the thought off. This was a silly insecurity. If, and only if, they were ready for any form of physical intimacy, he would consider the implications. That could be months--longer--away. This whole distraction might be over by then. Plenty of time to gently broach the subject of his gender. But that would mean vulnerability. Opening his tender, childish heart.
Ienzo sighed and started getting dressed. He was just slipping on his sweater vest when his phone started ringing. Even. He frowned and answered. “I know I’m late, I’m on my way--”
Even was yelling. “ Boy, get down here at once, she’s awake. ”
Oh.
Oh. “I was right,” he said dazedly, snatching his ascot and coat. He nearly forgot shoes . He finished dressing messily and started running.
“What were you right about?”
“I said she’d wake up at the year mark but that was conjecture--” God , why was this place so enormous? When had he gotten so out of shape?
“Well get down here,” Even snapped, and hung up.
Ienzo dialed a number he’d never called before. Riku picked up instantly. “She’s awake,” he said breathlessly. “She’s--”
He gasped. “I’m coming.”
Kairi was, naturally, a bit dazed. Even was checking her vitals, and Ansem had made her a cup of coffee. Still, she was able to offer Ienzo a smile when he came into the room. “Hi Ienzo,” she said.
He tried not to wheeze for breath. “How… how are…” He coughed. “How are you feeling?”
“Ironically? Sleepy,” she said. “I… I have to tell you what I saw--”
“Take your time. Adjust to being awake,” Even said.
“I told Riku,” Ienzo said. “He’s… he’s on his way.”
“Riku,” Kairi said, with a sigh. “How long have I been asleep? ...Do I want to know?”
Ansem and Even exchanged a glance. “Almost an entire year.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “...Really? I didn’t think--” She took a deep breath. “Wow, I… I’m so sorry.”
“ We are the ones who felt like we were failing you ,” Ansem said.
“Get up for me? How does your body feel?” Even helped Kairi gently to her feet.
“Fine--I’m not sore, or anything…” She kept blinking, disoriented. “So many dreams. So many memories. I’m really awake?”
“Verifiably so,” Even said. “Why don’t you just relax, and adjust for a moment?”
“What did you see?” Ienzo asked.
“Sora’s memories-- my memories--”
“You saw his memories?” Even asked.
“Yeah. It felt like I was him… but then…” She gasped a breath. “I need Riku’s help.”
“He’s coming. You need to try to stay calm,” Ienzo said.
Kairi sat back down. Her brows were tightly knit together.
Over the next hour or so they just tried to keep her calm, and answered her many questions as to what had happened over the past year. She was able to eat and keep it down, and physically seemed as though she had woken up from nothing more intense than a regular sleep. When Ienzo told her that Riku had been here regularly to check on her and be with her, this seemed to be some small comfort.
Riku, too, was breathless when he finally arrived in the lab. “Kairi,” he said. “Kai--” In three steps they had gathered each other into a hard, tight hug. Ienzo tried to swallow the small, small seed of jealousy. She’s his best friend.
They let them have their moment. When they let go at long last, Kairi was crying. “Your hair. You grew it back out.”
“Uh. Yeah.”
“Thank god . The short hair was so not you.”
Riku chuckled, and Ienzo saw him trying to suppress tears as well.
Even cleared his throat. “Can we please get back to the matter at hand?”
“Oh, Even,” Ansem said, slightly scolding.
She sighed. “Right. You aren’t going to believe this.”
She told them everything.
---
“If you arrive in a world that’s neither of light or darkness but somewhere on the other side, your task will be far from easy?” Ienzo repeated, trying to understand.
“Yes. He said that’s the answer.”
“Not of light or darkness, but on the other side?” Even said, spreading his hands, as if repeating it more times would make it make sense.
“I’ve never heard of a place like that.”
“Something else he said perplexes me. “Your voice can’t reach us. I’m certain of where your heart is.”"
“You would assume that he was referring to the realm of darkness, but that clearly isn’t the case here, wouldn’t you say?”
“Where voices can’t reach…” Ansem repeated, trying to think. “The other side of our world, of reality… Unreality? A fictional world?”
“Fictional?” You have got to be kidding me.
Ansem just sighed. “I’m afraid such mysteries are beyond our comprehension.”
“Maybe Mickey or Master Yen Sid knows,” Kairi said.
“Maybe…” Riku said. “Maybe this has something to do with…” He trailed off. “Mickey had mentioned that--”
“Your dreams?” Ienzo offered.
Dazedly, he nodded. “But… how, and why--”
He didn’t get to finish the thought. A bright flash and sparkle made them all jump back. An older woman in a purple dress was suddenly standing in the middle of the lab. “Oh, excuse me dears, I certainly didn’t mean to startle you. If you’re not expecting magic, it can be a surprise.”
Riku chuckled. “No kidding.”
“Now then. I am the Fairy Godmother. And it’s a pleasure to meet you all.”
“She came here at Yen Sid’s request. He said she’s got a clue that might help us find Sora,” Riku said.
“Yen Sid sent you?” Kairi asked.
“That’s right. To find Sora, we need three keys. First, Riku, and then of course there’s you, dear Kairi.”
“Okay.”
“With Riku’s dreams and Kairi’s memories, you two have already done your part.”
“The clue to the other world Kairi talked about,” Riku murmured. “The city…”
“A fictional world,” Ienzo said, shaking his head.
“Yes, perhaps,” Ansem said. “The three realms of our world--light, darkness, and between--these are all places we can travel to because they are on “our side.” This also includes the worlds of memories, data, and dreams. If I am correct, then this “other side” of the world from which voices cannot reach must be a place outside of our reality. Namely, it must be unreality, or fiction. But that is the extent of our knowledge.”
You have got to be kidding me, Ienzo thought a second time. Useless again.
“So, I thought we should go to Mickey and Master Yen Sid to ask about it,” Kairi said.
“I’m not quite sure they’ll be able to help you, my dear,” the Godmother said.
The frustration on Riku’s face was obvious. “Then what now?”
“Oh, you forgot; there are three people who hold the key. There’s still one more. One with a strong will and a very precious dream.”
“Who is it?” Kairi asked.
“You’ll see. I’ll introduce you.” She smiled. “But… it’s best to be prepared for anything.”
Riku and Kairi looked at each other. “We should get supplies,” he said. “Just in case.”
She nodded, then turned back to the three of them. “Thank you so much for all your hard work,” she said.
Riku looked at Ienzo especially when he said, “yeah. Thank you. I can’t say it enough.”
“At least we were finally able to provide something useful,” Even said, shaking his head.
“We should make sure Kairi is in fighting shape before we release her into this world,” Ansem said.
“I can help with that,” the Godmother added. “The place where we’re going isn’t dangerous, but it might lead into something beyond. Riku’s right. Best to be prepared.”
“Then I’ll go stock up,” he said.
Ienzo exhaled a little. Right. “I might already have a few things so you don’t have to spend your money. I’ll get them for you.” It was a lame excuse, and sounded it, but nobody seemed to notice, too distracted dealing with Kairi. Once they were out of earshot, he said, “I’m sure it’s perfectly clear I have no supplies. I wanted to check in with you. How are you feeling?”
He put a hand to his head. “Overwhelmed,” he admitted. “Excited? Afraid? Relieved? I don’t--I’m not even sure I understand --fiction? What?”
“I’m not totally sure I do either,” Ienzo admitted. “I suppose we just have to trust in this Fairy Godmother woman.”
“If she’s with Yen Sid then she’s trustworthy,” Riku said. “I just had… no idea this is what those dreams meant.”
Ienzo looked around. He couldn’t see anyone or anything. He took both of Riku’s hands and squeezed them. “Wherever you go, whatever you do, be careful,” he said. “I… what I said about wanting you in one piece. That very much stands.”
Riku smiled a little. “I’ll try.”
“And if you are able to contact me at all--though I doubt you will be able to--please do.”
“Of course.”
There was a long pause. “I shouldn’t keep you anymore,” Ienzo said. “I just… wanted to say that.”
“Thank you,” Riku said. He took a breath and pulled Ienzo close, squeezing him so tightly Ienzo felt his heart racing. He pressed a kiss against Ienzo’s forehead and then, quite quickly, his mouth, and it was a bit messy and desperate, attempting to drink each other in in this brief moment before separation. “I’ll let you know as soon as I’m back.”
“ In reality. ”
He exhaled. “Yes.”
“I hope you two can find him.”
“Me too, Ienzo. Me too.”
Ienzo hugged him one last time and watched him walk until he could no longer see him.
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lightsupinthenorth · 4 years ago
Text
Read me like an open book part 2/2
Thanks a lot to the people who liked/reblogged the first part ;) I hope you’ll enjoy the second part as well :) 
*
Part 1
Read on AO3
“Are you a drug dealer?” Steve asked him out of the blue, one day, as they were eating dinner.
 Billy nearly choked on his lasagna and had to down half his glass of water to recover from it.
 “Of course not! Where the fuck did that come from?” He asked, once he was done coughing.
 Robin was laughing freely, either at Billy or at Steve (or at both).
“Well, I don’t know… The other day you told me you were working, and I went to the garage because I had some trouble with my car, but you weren’t there. And you keep going to Indianapolis, and you always come back with these big ass envelopes. And you keep buying us nice stuff… and okay, you always have an explanation for how you got the extra cash, but it’s… it’s weird, is all.” Steve summarized.
Okay, so Steve might have been more observant than most people gave him credit for. Thank God he hadn’t asked for him at the garage. Billy had asked Charlie, one of his old coworkers, to cover for him if Steve ever came by, but what if Charlie had not been there?
 Robin was now staring at Billy, her eyes shining with mirth. It was so not funny! Billy was in deep shit.
 “And the only explanation you can come up with is me being a drug dealer?” Billy asked to delay the answers he would have to give (and which he had yet to invent).
 “Well… yes.” Steve admitted, with a frown.
 Maybe Billy would have laughed too, if he hadn’t been in such a precarious position.
 “Uh… I… Yeah, it’s just that the rich client from Indianapolis keeps asking me to come check his cars… that’s probably where I was when you went to the garage. And he always puts the money in envelopes. The guy’s weird, what can I say? He pays really well, hence the nice stuff I buy, so it’s not like I’m going to complain.” Billy explained, before stuffing his face with lasagna, just so the chewing would give him some time to think if Steve called him out on his bullshit.
 Robin rolled her eyes but kept mercifully silent.
 “Oh… alright. Sorry. That was dumb.” Steve said, pushing his food around his plate with his fork.
 “That’s fine... I can see how I might have looked suspicious. I’m not a fucking drug dealer, though.” Billy grumbled once his mouth was empty.
 “It did seem a bit far-fetched.”
 If only Steve knew what Billy was really doing, the drug-dealing theory would probably not appear far-fetched anymore. Billy felt more and more guilty about lying to Steve, but he couldn’t tell him the truth. Steve would instantly know Billy was in love with him, if he did, and it would ruin everything. So, Billy kept ignoring the dilemma, hoping it would go away on its own. No such luck, so far.
 *
 A few days later, Billy came home with a book he thought Steve would like. He found him on the couch, drawing on a sketchpad Billy had never seen. Before he could catch a glimpse of the drawing Steve had been working on, Steve noticed him and snapped the sketchpad shut so hard that the noise echoed in the room.
 “Hey, Billy, how are you doing?” Steve asked in a high-pitched voice.
 Billy narrowed his eyes but chose not to question Steve on his suspicious behavior. He didn’t really have a right to, considering how he had been behaving himself.
 “Good. I brought you a book, we can read a bit if you’re done with whatever you were doing.”
 “Oh… yeah. That’d be cool. I… I am totally done with… with whatever I was doing.” Steve stammered.
 “Cool.”
 “Come here.” Steve said, patting his own lap.
 Billy got the message and laid on the couch with his head on Steve’s lap. Steve started playing with his hair before he even started reading. His gentle touches made it hard for Billy to focus on the words, and he ended up tripping over them.
 Steve didn’t stop touching him, nor did he react in any way to Billy’s stumbling. It made Billy suspicious, so he started saying something that had nothing to do with the book, using the same tone he’d use if he were still reading. Steve didn’t catch on.
 “You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” Billy asked in a conversational tone, so Steve would actually register he was being addressed.
 He gave Billy his famous ‘deer caught in the headlight’ look.
 “I… uh… I… wasn’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t get my mind off Long live the King. I don’t think I can focus on another novel right now.”
 Billy sighed. He didn’t understand why Steve had loved the book so much. “It’s fine. Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
 Steve shrugged. “I probably won’t be able to focus much on that either but knock yourself out.”
 Billy would have gladly stayed there in peaceful silence while Steve was caressing his hair, but it would probably look dubious, so he reached out for the tv remote and put something at random before going back to his initial position.
 Billy felt so safe and relaxed that he started dozing off. He tried to resist, so he could enjoy Steve’s hands on him for as long as he could, but he ended up falling asleep anyway, betrayed by his own body.
 *
 That night, Billy woke up from a wet dream and found the star of the said wet dream in the living-room. What was Steve was doing there at this late (or early, depending on how you were looking at it) hour? It had yet to be determined. Billy approached slowly, his bare feet not making a sound on the carpeted floor.
 When he was a few meters behind the couch Steve was sitting on, Billy saw that Steve was finishing up a drawing… of a woman… a woman who looked like Billy’s mother. He gasped, before he could even think about staying discreet.
 Steve jumped and whipped his head in Billy’s direction.
 Billy instantly felt bad. Steve was often jittery, especially if he hadn’t gotten a good night of sleep (which he obviously hadn’t), and Billy should have known better than to sneak up on him.
 “I’m sorry for startling you, Pretty boy.”
 “Uh… it’s fine… I guess it’s too late to hide this from you.” He said, gesturing to the drawing before he got up from the couch to face Billy.
 “’m afraid so.” Billy replied. “Is that…?”
 “Your mom? Yes…” Steve’s voice was slightly shaky.
 “But how?” Billy had no picture of his mother, and Steve had obviously never met her.
 “I… Please don’t be mad… You know how you told me about almost forgetting how your mother looked like before Eleven showed her to you when she got into your mind at Starcourt?”
 Billy nodded. He wanted to tell Steve he could probably never be mad at him, but he didn’t want to interrupt him for fear Steve would let his nerves get the better of him if he did.
 “Well… I asked Eleven to show her to me, too. I… I wanted to do something nice for you, because you keep doing nice things for me… and I thought it was a good idea… after you told me you had nothing to remember your mom by… But then I got nervous… I thought that maybe you’d find it creepy that I saw one of your memories… so I didn’t actually know how to go about telling you.” Steve was speaking faster and faster until he finally stopped, leaving Billy’s head spinning.
 Steve had asked Eleven to go into his mind just so he could draw Billy’s mother…
 “Please, Billy, say something.” Steve sounded properly panicked.
 Billy wanted to reassure him, but he still couldn’t find his voice, so he lunged himself at Steve.
 “Oh…” Steve’s air was punched out of him. “Hey there, big guy.” He hugged Billy back with one arm, still holding the drawing in his right hand.
 “Thank you” Billy whispered, as a few tears made their way down his cheeks.
 “It was my pleasure.” Steve replied.
 Billy separated from Steve and wiped his tears away with the back of his hand before he reached for the drawing.
 “So that’s what you hid from me when I caught you drawing earlier?” That was more of a rhetorical question, really.
 “Oh… uh. Yeah. Yup. Totally.” Steve answered.
 He was looking at everything in the room but Billy, who was too engrossed in the drawing to question Steve’s peculiar attitude.  
 The next morning, Billy bought a frame for the portrait and placed it on his nightstand.
 *
 When Billy went to Indianapolis a few days later, he tried very hard to avoid his agent. He knew he should have asked for his mail to be forwarded to him in Hawkins instead of leaving it at the agency, but he had wanted to avoid Steve stumbling upon anything that would clue him to what was going on. Now Billy was reduced to lurking down the corridors with his precious envelope in hand, like a thief. He was blessedly out the door without having crossed paths with anyone he knew when he bumped into his agent a few meters down the street. Fuck his life.
 Billy’s agent had been pestering him about agreeing to a book signing for weeks now. Billy liked her well enough, but she could really be a pain in the ass when she tried hard enough. He had always denied her request, not wanting to show his face to his readers, since Robin was the only person from his life who knew he had published a book. Also, everyone thought he was a woman because of the penname he had chosen. He had an inkling that some people wouldn’t react well to knowing a book written in the first person, in which the narrator was in love with a man, had in fact been written by a male novelist. The narrator was not gendered, which Billy had done on purpose. He was almost certain most readers had imagined a girl, but if they discovered the author was a man, they might question it. Billy didn’t really care about that, or at least he didn’t care nearly as much as he did about Steve potentially finding out Billy had written Long live the King, but it was a reason he had used with his agent to justify his many rebuttals.  
 “Trying to run away from me, are you?”
 “Absolutely not.” Billy replied, with more confidence than he truly had.
 “Right. So, what about that book signing?” She asked for the umpteenth time.
 She was like a broken record.
 “Like the last ten times you asked: no.”
 Billy’s tone was firm, but it didn’t deter her. Oh no.
 “But come on, your readers would be so happy to meet you. Don’t you think it’d be nice?”
 Billy had received and kept receiving heartfelt letters from some of his readers, which made him realize his book had touched a lot of people. Of course, meeting these people would be nice, but it did not change his stance on the signing. It could not.
 “Plus, you don’t have to really show yourself. Wear a cap and sunglasses, a wig, come in full drag for all I care. It doesn’t matter as long as you talk to the readers.”
 “Wouldn’t that be… you know… weird?”
 Who came disguised to their own event?
 “Sure, but you’re an author Billy, you’re entitled to being at least a bit weird.” She assured him.
 Maybe she was right…
 “Okay…” He finally agreed.
 “Okay, you’ll do the signing?” She asked for confirmation.
 “Yes, I’ll do it.”  
 Billy regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, but there was nothing he could do about it now. They were out, and his agent would never let him take them back. At least she wouldn’t pester him about it anymore. He wouldn’t relax too much, though. He knew her, by now. She’d find something else to annoy him with sooner or later.
 He waited until he was back home to open the envelope containing the letters from his readers. He was eager to read them, as he always was. And he could really use some cheering up these days, what with his longing for Steve and the fact he kept lying to him and could barely deal with the guilt. That was why Billy had gone to Indianapolis despite wanting to avoid his agent. He had really wanted, almost needed, the letters.
 He read them sitting on his bed, and when he found a drawing of the King that looked exactly like himself, Billy cursed loudly, in shock.
 A knock came on his bedroom door a few seconds later.
 “Billy?”
 “Uh… yeah?”
 Panicking, he hid the pile of letters under his bed sheet and didn’t have time to find something inconspicuous to do before Steve opened his door.
 “You sounded… bothered, just now. Are you okay?”
 “Oh, yeah. Never better.”
 Never better? Why in the world had he said that? Had his brain gone to mush?
 “Okay… that’s… good. What are you doing?”
 “Uh… Nothing. Just chilling.”
 This was a train wreck.
 “Mmh… if you say so.” Steve narrowed his eyes. “See you later, then. When you’re done… chilling.”
 “Right, see you, Pretty boy.” Billy forced a smile.
 When Steve was gone, Billy unraveled the pile of letters again and took the drawing back in hand. He turned the sheet of paper and found a written paragraph on the back.
 “I wanted to thank you for writing Long live the King. I loved it a lot, and I really related to your narrator. I have feelings for someone… someone quite like the King in your story. Sadly, I don’t think I’ll have a happy ending like your narrator did, but at least your novel showed me how it could feel if I did. I’m not very good with words (sorry about the handwriting too), so I made a drawing to better express how I feel about your amazing work.
 Thank you again,
 S. H.”
 Steve had drawn Billy as the King, crown included, and had sent it to the author of Long live the King without knowing it was Billy. He felt delighted, freaked out and guilty all at once. He needed a minute, or an hour. Oh Lord, this was such a mess. He should have listened to Robin and told Steve the truth a long time ago.
 And he couldn’t believe Steve was seeing him that way. He imagined Billy as the King! How was that possible? Steve was the King all along in Billy’s mind. Billy was nothing like that. He wasn’t brave and kind like Steve, and by extension the King in his novel, was.
 Billy stared at the drawing, in a daze. He appeared so beautiful on the paper…
 Steve had some better version of him that lived in his mind, and he thought this version was the real Billy. But Billy was a coward. He was lying to Steve because he was too weak to tell the truth, to face Steve, too afraid he would lose him.
 Instead of putting the drawing back in the pile of letters he had received, Billy carefully folded it and put in the pocket of his hoodie to carry it around with him, in a streak of masochism or a bout of sentimentalism (or a mix of both).
 That evening, when Steve had left the living-room for a bathroom break, Robin whispered:
 “You went to Indianapolis today, right?”
 “Yeah…”
 “You got the drawing?”
 “You knew?!” Billy whispered-yelled.
 “Of course, I was the one to suggest he sent it when I saw it.”
 “Right. I should have known.” Billy rolled his eyes.
 “Sure, thank me later, whatever. My question is, why aren’t you two making out like crazy right now? You’re head over heels for Steve, and now you know that he’s head over heels for you too. So, why haven’t you done anything about it?” Robin asked with a frown.
 “I just… you’ve seen the drawing, Robin. Steve sees me as far better than I actually am… and if I tell him I wrote Long live the King and lied to him all this time, he’ll realize his mistake, and I will lose him.”
 “Oh, Billy.” Robin gave him a pitying look. “I don’t know how to make you see how wrong you are.”
 Billy shushed her, as Steve came back into the room. Robin sighed but didn’t say anything else and Billy relaxed a little.
 He would keep on ignoring the problem and lying to Steve despite the guilt crushing him. At least, Steve was still his friend. As long as he had him by his side, Billy could deal with the rest.
 *
 About a month later, on Friday night, Steve insisted that Robin and Billy go with him to a stupid party.
 “Come on, I promised Dustin we’d go with him and the others!” Steve pleaded.
 “But why in the world did you do that, Pretty boy?” Billy asked, not looking away from the tv screen, even though he wasn’t paying attention to what was happening on it.
 He had a few ideas on how to spend his Friday night, and going to a high school party was not one of them. Plus, he had to go to his book signing tomorrow. He couldn’t use that as an excuse to decline, though, for obvious reasons.
 “He wants to impress the new girl, the one hosting the party, so he said he’d bring his cool older friends. I couldn’t say no!” Steve explained.
 “Pff, the kid is delusional.” Robin replied, “I’m obviously the only cool person out of the three of us.”
 “You used to be a band geek.” Steve pointed out.
 “Yet, I’m still cooler than you, dingus, I wonder what that says about you.”
 Billy rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t even argue about that.
 “Whatever you say. Does that mean you’ll come? Apparently, the girl has an older sister who’ll also be at the party with a bunch of her own friends, so it won’t even be that weird if we go. It might be fun.”
 “Sure.” Robin shrugged, flipping the pages of a magazine.
 “Billy?” Steve asked, turning to him with a hopeful smile. “If you come, you can keep an eye on Max.”
 Steve had a point. But Billy would have agreed anyway, just because Steve had been the one asking.  
 “Okay, okay. But you’ll owe me.”
 “Sure, whatever you want.” Steve beamed. And really, he shouldn’t go around saying things like that.
 Billy had to close his eyes for a second.
 At the party, Billy mostly kept to the couch, sipping on a cup of punch. He’d have made conversation with Robin, who was also on the couch, but she was having a conversation of her own with one of the older sisters’ cute friends. Billy didn’t want to cockblock her, or so to speak, so he stayed in his corner like a loser. Parties weren’t really his scene anymore. It wasn’t as fun now that he barely drank.
 Steve had been dragged God knew where by Dustin, and Billy felt lonely. He regretted whishing Steve would be back when he did actually come back, though. Indeed, Steve only came to Billy to ask him to play truth or dare so he wouldn’t have to do it alone.
 “Absolutely not, Steve. What are we? Children?”
 “Come on, please… I’ll owe you a second favor. Pretty please.” Steve joined his hands together and gave Billy his infamous puppy dog eyes. This was so not fair.
 “Ugh, I hate you.” Billy lied.
 “Thank you!!”
 Billy wished he could be impervious to Steve’s pleading, as Robin was. Steve hadn’t even tried to drag her into the dumb game, already knowing that was a lost battle. She was so lucky.
 Billy followed Steve but didn’t pretend he was happy about it.
 “Wow, Billy, nice of you to grace us with your sunny disposition.” Max said as Billy sat down next to Steve with a scowl on his face.
 “Shut up, shitbird. And no funny business.” He warned.
 “What are you insinuating?” Max gasped, faking offense like the drama-queen she was. “I would never!”
 “Shut up you guys, let’s start the game.” Henderson said. And okay, rude much? He would have never disrespected Billy that way when he was still afraid of him. At least not to his face. Good old times.
 There had already been about ten teenagers sitting in the circle before Billy and Steve had joined. The nerd squad minus Will and Mike was here, as well as the hostess of the party and a few other people Billy didn’t recognize and didn’t care to. He wanted to ask Steve why they were the only grown-ups (or well, semi grown-ups at least) in the circle, but he was pretty sure he knew the reason already. Henderson had most certainly roped Steve into playing as some kind of wingman duty or some shit (Billy would have bet his life on it). So, Steve was here because he couldn’t say no to the nerds (especially Henderson), and Billy was here because he couldn’t say no to Steve, which was rather unfortunate in situations like this one.
 The bottle mercifully didn’t fall on Billy for the first six spins. When it did, he picked dare and was asked to do a handstand by El, bless her pure soul. The others grumbled slightly, finding the dare boring, but no one protested too hard. She was very cute but could also be quite scary, and most people knew not to cross her. Thankfully, Billy’s shirt was tucked in so it didn’t slide down and reveal his scars. He was comfortable enough to display them around Steve and Robin, but it stopped there.
 Billy thought he would be safe for a while after that. However, his evil sister wouldn’t have it that way. As Sinclair spun and the bottle fell on Steve, who picked dare, Max whispered something in her boyfriend’s ear. Sinclair tried to protest, but Max glared at him and his protests instantly died. He then sheepishly dared Steve to kiss Billy. He had said “no funny business”. What was wrong with Max?
 Steve, blushing beet red, turned to Billy.
 “Is it… is this okay?”
 Billy should say no, because kissing Steve would just make everything messier, which was saying something, and also because he didn’t imagine his first kiss with Steve happening in front of a group of teenagers, among which was his very own sister. Then again, he had thought his first kiss with Steve would stay in his imagination, so maybe it wasn’t so bad.
 Who was he kidding? There was no way he was saying no, despite his better judgement. He wanted Steve too much for that.
 “Sure.” He therefore said, with a nonchalance he didn’t possess.
 Steve put both his hands in Billy’s hair and gently slotted their lips. He could have just pecked Billy’s lips awkwardly and called it a day, but no. Steve had to try to kill him with softness. Billy had to use all his restraint and then some so he wouldn’t deepen the kiss and ravish Steve’s mouth, lest he scar their audience for life. When Steve broke the kiss and let go of Billy’s head, they were both breathing a tad raggedly. They stared at each other, and Billy nearly lost himself in Steve’s big dark eyes, but he was brought back to earth by Henderson clearing his throat.
 Billy really wanted to shoot him a threatening look, but Max did it for him. It made Billy a little bit less mad at her.
 The game ended soon after that. Thank God. And Billy and Steve decided to go home. They looked for Robin. When they found her, she didn’t seem too keen on leaving.
 “You can stay the night. I’m staying too. There’s plenty of room.” The girl she’d been talking with for hours said.
 “That sounds great! You’ll be fine to go home on your own, boys?”
 Robin was only teasing, but Billy considered answering no for a second. Being alone with Steve right now would be pure torture. Billy would combust with longing.
 “Of course, see you tomorrow. Have fun.” Steve said.
 “Thanks.”
 *
 Steve was their designated driver for the night, which was stupid because Billy had barely drunk anything, and now he didn’t have anything to do with his hands and the awkwardness was killing him. They hadn’t even argued over what station to put on the radio. The radio was turned off, for God’s sake. They were not in their right mind.
 Billy ended up turning the radio on about halfway through the drive, just to have something to do. Abba was on, and Billy didn’t even switch stations. What was happening to him?
 They stayed silent until they reached the flat, where they bid each other good night before retreating to their respective rooms.
 Billy sighed with relief (and maybe with disappointment, too, if he was entirely honest). However, he shouldn’t have believed he was already out of the woods: the door of his room flew open a few seconds later, revealing Steve (of course, who else could it have been?).
 Billy opened his mouth to ask him what was wrong, but he couldn’t get a word out before Steve’s lips were on his once again.
 This time, Billy didn’t even think about resisting. He didn’t think, period. His brain was broken. Steve had broken it. His mouth still worked fine, though, and Billy kissed back eagerly.  
 They didn’t even take the time to get undressed before they tumbled onto Billy’s bed, momentarily breaking the kiss. Billy grinded his hips against Steve’s, making him moan and arch his back. Steve’s hands were back in his hair, lightly tugging on it. Steve reversed their position so he was on top and joined their lips again. He pulled harder on Billy’s hair, pulling a whine out of him in the process, and proceeded to devour his mouth.
 Fuck, he really could kiss.
 Billy didn’t last long the first time around (not that he had hoped he would). In fact, he came in his pants from the friction on his clothed hard-on, as if he were still a teenager. The thing was, Billy didn’t have much experience when it came to sex, contrary to what most people thought. He had given and received the odd hand job or blow job, but between Neil walking in on Billy and his first (and only) boyfriend, the move to Hawkins, the whole possession thing, the long recovery and falling in love with Steve, he hadn’t had many occasions to have sex. And he had wanted Steve for so long that something like this was bound to happen. It wasn’t Billy’s proudest moment, nonetheless, but he powered through the embarrassment and was quick to bring Steve to orgasm too, which reassured him a little.  
 Once the rush of desperation had passed, they slowed down considerably. Then, they were all soft touches, gentle hands and deep kisses. They fell asleep hours later, before dawn, sweaty and sated.
 Billy had never felt so right. However, such blissful peace could not last.
 *
When he woke up the following morning, Billy went through an emotional rollercoaster. First, he noticed that Steve wasn’t in bed with him anymore. Then, he found a post-it not on which Steve informed him he had left to get them breakfast. Billy smiled and instantly relaxed. It was only the first loop of the rollercoaster, though.
 Indeed, when Billy looked for his clothes to get dressed, he couldn’t find his favorite hoodie. Steve must have borrowed it. After all, he loved nicking clothes from Billy.
 Billy really didn’t mind. Seeing Steve in his clothes always warmed his heart.
 But then, Billy remembered he had been wearing the said hoodie when he had received Steve’s drawing, and he also remembered putting the folded drawing in the front pocket. Oh Lord, no. He frantically searched for the pile of letters from the other day in his nightstand drawer, and Steve’s drawing was indeed not in the pile.
 Billy all but ran out of his room. Maybe, if he found Steve quickly enough, he could prevent him from noticing the piece of paper.
 He immediately knew it was too late when he stumbled in the living room. Steve was in one of the chairs, sitting ramrod straight with his arms crossed over his chest. On the coffee table in front of him, there were two paper cups, a bag of pastries from their favorite bakery, and, more importantly, the drawing.
 Billy’s heartbeat went haywire. How was he going to make things right, now? He had been too much of a coward to talk to Steve, and now Steve had found out without him. It was a catastrophe.
 Steve’s face showed no emotion, but his eyes were full of hurt.
 “Steve…” Billy started before being immediately interrupted.
 “How could you Billy? You knew how I felt all this time and you didn’t say anything. Don’t you care about me at all? Was last night just bullshit to you? And why the fuck did you sleep with me? Was it a pity fuck? Or did you think that I’d be an easy lay because I’m in love with you? What the fuck? I can’t believe you’d do something like that.”
 Steve was asking him question after question but didn’t leave him an occasion to answer any of them. His voice was getting louder and louder, making Billy flinch. He wanted to cut in and explain himself, but his own voice failed him.
 At the world bullshit, Billy winced, but still kept silent. When Steve said he was in love with him, Billy’s heart shattered. He had yearned to hear those words for years, but not like that. Never like that. He felt like crying, but for once the tears would not come.  
 Steve had gone from thinking too much of Billy to thinking too little. Billy had been hiding the truth from Steve, yes, but he would have never slept with him knowing how he felt if he didn’t love him too. Steve should know that. Billy would never be that cruel, and even less to him. How could Steve think even for a second that last night had only been about sex to Billy? Billy knew he lacked confidence ever since Nancy had broken his heart in high school, but surely he had to have felt the love their night had been filled with.  
 Steve, faced with Billy’s silence, got up to leave. Billy held him by the wrist and finally found his voice.
 “Please, Steve, let me explain… I…”
 “Save it.” Steve snapped, shaking Billy off before walking out the door and slamming it shut.
 Billy had to sit on the floor, as his legs were on the verge of giving out. He had ruined everything.
 He stared into nothing, his head filled with regrets and fears concerning what was to come. Had he lost Steve forever. Oh God. He had, hadn’t he?
 The tears he needed to shed didn’t start flowing until Robin came home. She found him on the floor, sitting with his knees to his chest. As soon as she asked him if he was okay with concern etched upon her face, Billy started crying hard.
 “Oh Billy, what is it? Where’s Steve?”
 Billy tried to reply but he couldn’t speak through his sobs.
 “Nothing happened to him, has it?” Robin asked.
 “He… he… he hates me.” Billy managed to say in between heaving breaths.
 “Billy, come on, he could never hate you.”
 “He… he knows… I had the drawing...”
 “So, he’s mad… but he doesn’t hate you. He’ll come around.”
 Billy drowned in another wave of tears. Robin wouldn’t think that if she knew Steve and he had made love last night. Steve would never forgive him.
 “I… I can go talk to him, if you want. Would that help?”
 Billy nodded hesitantly. Maybe it would just make Robin hate him too, but she was probably his last chance to get Steve to hear him out, so he should give it a try.
 “Are you going to be okay to go to Indianapolis on your own?”
 Billy nodded again, rubbing his eyes with his fists. He wasn’t in a fit state to go to a book signing (in fact, he wasn’t in a fit state to do anything), but at least having something to do might take his mind off of his monumental fuck-up. He didn’t have much of a choice, anyway.
 *
 The book signing went as well as could be expected. Some people looked surprised to see a man, and some looked quite uncomfortable, but no one said anything outwardly rude to him, probably because Billy was a scary motherfucker without even having to try. He was intense, what could he do?
 He tried to focus on the people he got to meet, and on what they were saying, but his mind couldn’t help but drift to Steve every couple of minutes. It was exhausting.
 The event ended hours after it had been supposed to, which wasn’t surprising. It was always hard to estimate how long this kind of things lasted, considering the number of people participating could not be known beforehand. And Billy couldn’t possibly quit before everyone in the line had seen him. Some people had been waiting for several hours. He was not that much of a bastard.
 As Billy was finally getting ready to leave, someone barged into the bookstore. When he heard the bell above the door jingle, Billy looked up and froze. It was Steve.
 Had he come all this way to tell Billy he never wanted to see him again and that he should find another place to live? Wouldn’t he have waited for Billy to get back to the flat to let him know?
 As Steve got closer, Billy noticed he was carrying a book. Was it… his book?
 He stopped right in front of the table Billy was sitting at and placed the book on it.
 “Hey”
 “Hey…” Billy greeted him back tentatively.
 Steve looked sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck.
 “I… Could you sign it for me, please?”
 “Really?” Billy asked.
 He tried not to let his heart fill with hope, in case it was some kind of sick prank, but there was nothing to be done. The hope latched on too quickly to be stopped.
 Steve nodded.
 “I… I’m sorry for getting so mad this morning… Robin knocked some sense into me, and I realize I shouldn’t have yelled at you. And I should have listened to you… No matter how hurt I felt.”
 Steve was apologizing? To Billy? That didn’t sound right.
 “I… I should be the one apologizing, Steve. I should have told you the truth as soon as I got the drawing… I should have told you before that even… I just…”
 “It’s okay… you don’t have to explain now. We can talk things through once we’re back home… we have time… Just, just tell me one thing.”
 “Anything you want, Steve.” Billy assured him.
 “Well… at first, I didn’t even think about what you having my drawing meant… beside the fact that you know how I feel now… Then it finally registered that it meant you were the author of Long live the King… and Robin suggested that the book made it clear that you… that you had romantic feelings, for me. Was she… maybe… possibly… right? Is it true?” Steve asked, his voice so low that Billy had to strain to hear him.
 Billy signed the book and handed it back to Steve before saying anything.
 Steve opened the book to read what Billy had just written: “For my king, my light, my love, my everything”.
 “Yes, it is. It is true. I love you, Steve.” Billy finally replied.
 Steve beamed, making Billy’s heart flip.
 “I love you too.”
 Billy could fully rejoice in hearing these words, this time around.  
 He still had some explaining to do. But he hadn’t lost Steve. Steve still loved him. And he now knew Billy loved him too. The rest could wait.
 “Let’s go home, Pretty boy.”
*
Thanks for reading :) 
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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years ago
Text
The Rescue, Part 2: Nate’s POV
Remember how I told you there were two parts to The Rescue? I lied. There’s actually three or four, because Nate got chatty. Whoops. In any case, here’s the second part of the Rescue and how Nate got Danny away from Bram. Follows directly on The Rescue, Part One (may want to read that one first for context if you haven’t yet
Tagging @special-spicy-chicken, @spiffythespook, @bleeding-demon-teeth, @finder-of-rings, and @whumpywhumper!
CW: The dog kennel makes a reappearance. Referenced/implied noncon, serious violence, blood, mention of dissociation/trauma
“I was m-mad,” Nate said flatly.
“Mad?” The detective raised an eyebrow, tapping her pencil on the yellow notepad laid out in front of her. “That’s it?”
“I was r-r-really mad.”
“Based on the drawing you made for us of what you keep referring to, it’s… clear what happened to Mr. Michaelson during the incident you say led you to plan an escape. So, I looked at the notes from the officer you initially spoke with… it says here that it wasn’t the first time.”
Nate ground his teeth together, fighting the surge of anger and picking up his mug of coffee instead, taking a slow drink, letting the scalding liquid burning the roof of his mouth distract him. All of this was helpful, he reminded himself. All of this was one step closer to getting Bram somewhere where he couldn’t hurt Danny anymore. “No,” he said, keeping the word quick and curt. “He m-made him wear it when h-h-he was angry with him. It was the th-thing he hated most. He’s… he was sc-scared of it.“
He was tired of answering questions, and Danny was all alone back in the breakroom, sitting in that stupid fucking folding chair with a blanket around his shoulders. Alone. He didn’t do well by himself. He didn’t like being alone - Bram had taken Nate on a supply run once and left Danny chained in the living room with enough food for a few days, told him they’d be gone for a weekend - and then stayed more than twice that long.
Danny had been desperate and terrified and so fucking grateful to Bram for coming back. Certain they’d left him in the living room to die, just like when Bram threw him in the cellar, in the dark. Then dragged Nate away to a small hunting shed down the road for a week, two weeks, a whole fucking month.
Returning to a Danny thirsty and starving, out of apples and water, willing to do anything - anything - if Bram promised not to leave again.
And somehow, Nate thought, Bram always seemed to know the exact day Danny ran out of food and water.
Nate’s bad hand tried to tighten into a fist and he winced at the spike of pain, the feeling of bones badly healed grinding against each other.
“I w-want to see R-… Danny,” Nate said, taking another sip of coffee, trying to calm down. Steady. You are rescued captives, not criminals, and they’ve already said Danny’s brother will be taking you back to sleep at his place. “We sh-… should talk to you t-t-together. In the same r-room.”
“I just want a few pieces of information to round out what we know,” The woman reassured him.
“Ma’am, I uh-understand that, but h-h-he’s scared. He d-d-doesn’t like being alone, it’s b-b-better if we t, talk together-”
“Listen, this is not an interrogation and we’re really not holding you. We only have you in here because the trauma expert we brought in has said it might be better for him not to overhear it, especially the bits involving…” She tapped her pen on the drawing Nate had made for her of the thing Abraham put on Danny’s face, then tapped her own cheek.
“But I h-h-have to hear m-me say it?” Nate sighed, and it felt good to sigh in a place where no one was going to mock him for how often he did it, or hit him, or cut the words STOP FUCKING SIGHING SO MUCH into his back. 
Part of him ached with missing Bram’s presence, the hand that would have been on the back of his neck right now, telling him what to say without ever having to speak a word… but that part was too far gone, down a well of once you did this, it was too fucking late. “It’s n-n-not easier for me, you know.”
“Isn’t it? When we tried to speak to Mr. Michaelson, he shut down entirely.” The woman tapped her pen again, and Nate narrowed his eyes. That sound was getting really, really annoying. “I only want to learn a little bit more. You’re doing just fine, Mr. Vandrum.”
“I’m n-not worried about me.” Nate took a breath, gentled his voice. He tried even to gentle his expression, but it was hard by now to break the self-protective mask he wore, the one where bitterness and hostility fought for dominance, where he always looked bored and angry. It was a safer face than any other, and only with Danny did he find it easy to lose. “Even if it’s j-j-just a break,” He said quietly. “I want to s-s-see him. Soon.”
“Just a few more questions, Nate, and we’ll facilitate that. Once we’re done, we’ll take you back in. I’ve been told Mr. Michaelson’s brother has picked up a couple hotel rooms for you to stay in, and we can take this back up in the morning afterward. Is that acceptable?”
He thought about it, but they both knew it wasn’t really something he had a choice in. He at least was pretty used to not having choices. He wondered, idly, what had happened to Bram’s truck.
The body’s truck, not Bram’s.
(he’s not supposed to be back here for three months)
Not body. Victim.
(of course I’m going to kill him)
“Fine.” Nate sighed, again, and relished the sound and the way all the detective did was try to hide a small half-smile.
“Good. I just want to get through what you were thinking on Mr. Michaelson’s twenty-sixth birthday, when both of you have stated that the incident occurred that led to your escape, and then we’ll take a break. What made this different, if I might ask?”
Nate frowned. “Made w-w-what different?”
“You say this was done to him before, as… a form of punishment?” When Nate winced, her eyebrows furrowed in a moment of regret. “Ah, I’m sorry. I should have worded that differently. You say it happened more than once, at least. That it was not uncommon as a method of control. So what made this last time different, in your eyes? Prior to this, you had not been able to effect an escape. So why this time?”
Nate looked at her and thought of Daniel with the thing on his face, when the blue eyes were empty and gone, curled up in the back of the dog kennel in the cellar, whining in his throat like a kicked animal when Nate came close, looking at him and seeing Abraham Denner instead.
When those eyes stayed empty, stayed gone, for so long that until Nate had him in Bram’s truck (the body’s truck) he’d been perfectly and totally certain that it was too late, that Danny would never come back.
You’re a fucking fairy tale, Nate. Kissed the sleeping prince to wake him up. He had to fight back the bitter laughter, knowing that if he started laughing he might never stop. I didn’t exactly slay the dragon, though, did I? “He m-m-made me put it on h-him.”
“You had never done that before?”
He glared down into his coffee. “Not l-like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I said no,” Nate snapped. “Because I f-fucking h-h-h… haaaah… I hated that thing. And sometimes he l-l-listened to me.” Sometimes he loved me enough to listen. Guilt blossomed, flowered inside of him, and he fought it back down. It was his fault Bram was sitting in a hospital room right now, handcuffed to the bed, would go to prison. His fault his fault his fault.
No. It wasn’t his fault.
If he hadn’t done that to Danny, everything would still be the same. Nate had understood, he’d learned all his lessons. He’d become exactly what Bram wanted and they’d been together for seven years, more time with Danny there than without him. After seven years of every attempt to find himself, to escape - to stand up for Danny - failing, Nate had been ready to live like that forever if he had to. Danny and his books, that was enough.
It would have to be enough.
But Bram had made the choice that nearly stole Danny from him for good, and if Danny was the only thing Bram had left him…
Danny was the only thing he wanted enough to kill for.
“But not on the day in question. On the day in question, he forced you to fasten this implement onto Mr. Michaelson’s face?”
Nate shook his head.  "He wanted Red-… Danny to watch me b-be the one to d-d-do it.”
So that even I was a threat, the bad guy, someone who hurt him. That he couldn’t turn to me for help, because I was just as bad as Bram. Just like him, going to be just like him, just like them… so that he knew no one was safe, and I wanted to be safe for him.
That was all I wanted.
Bram took that away from me.
“So that was what made you start considering escape?”
“Not… n-not really. It made me th-think about it, but… what made me do something didn’t happen until September, when he b-brought him back into the cabin.”
“How long was that after going in? Two months, give or take? Okay, so what happened?”
“Two and a half. He went in on July 10th. He brought him back up right before October. If I answer, do I get to see him for a while?”
The woman went still, the slightest flare around her eyes the only thing betraying surprise. That’s right, Nate thought, I don’t always stammer. Sometimes I get pissed off instead, and the switch flips, and the words get back on the track to my mouth like they used to. She tilted her head, considered. “Yes. We’ll take a break, and you can see him, then. What happened in September?”
“He s-s-sent me down to get him,” Nate said softly. “G-Gave me the key.”
“H-Hey, Red, it’s m-m-me,” Nate had whispered, coming down the creaking wooden stairs, the cellar door thrown open to let as much light in as he could. “Where are y-y-you, Red? D-Danny?”
A low whine from the corner, behind the shelves that were empty now but would be full of pumpkins and apples in the winter, potatoes, too - all the food that they kept down here. Danny would make pumpkin pies and pumpkin pasta, black bean soup with pumpkin thrown in. Nate was fucking sick of beta carotene by spring.
He followed the sound of the whine, his heart dropping as he heard a soft metal scraping noise - rhythmic and horrifying, even when he didn’t know what it was.
He’d heard Danny trying to scream down here, when Bram went down to check on him. The whining sound like a kicked dog, ratcheted up to a horrible high pitch, followed by smacks and thumps and thuds and Bram’s laughter breaking it apart, shattering Danny’s fear and misery. Neither of them sounded human, down there, any longer.
That was when Nate had begun, piece by piece to realize that he didn’t feel quite the same when he looked Bram in the eyes as he used to.
Nate had moved around the corner of the shelf to find the large dog kennel shoved against the corner. It was nearly full-dark even with the cellar door open, this far back. Danny was curled up in the back, knees nearly to his chin, wide blue eyes staring sightlessly ahead.
Bare feet caked in dried dirt up to his ankles, streaks of old mud along his arms. The collar was cinched so tight that Danny breathed in shallow half-gasps. His red hair was dark, too dark, and Nate thought Bram must have been shoving him down into the dirt when he came down here, because Danny’s hair was clumped with mud.
Nate stared at Danny, and Danny stared back without seeing him, his whining turning to a low, frightened, inhuman whimper. He curled up even more tightly, and Nate realized what the metallic scraping was as Danny rubbed the side of the muzzle against the side of the kennel, trying to find the relieving, soothing pressure without touching the muzzle himself.
He couldn’t, after all - his hands were tied behind his back.
There was blood caked and dried on his chest, down his torso. A huge bruise he could see even in the semi-darkness on one hip.
“Oh h-h-holy fuck, no.”
Nate crouched down in front of the crate - feeling a twinge of pain in the knee Bram had damaged, once upon a time - and when he put the key into the lock to open it, Danny flinched away from him, tears leaking from his eyes, mixing with the blood on his face.
“C-C-Come on, Red, it’s t-t-time to c-come upstairs…”
Danny shook his head, whimpering again, turning his eyes away. Nate had to reach in and grab him by one arm, feeling like the lowest scum of the earth, and pull Danny whining and frightened forcibly out of the crate. Had to drag him up to his feet, which barely seemed able to hold him. Had to pull him up into sunshine he hadn’t seen in two and half months, leading him like a blind man when Danny whined and pushed his face into Nate’s shoulder at the pain of the light.
In the light, Nate could see what he’d missed in the dark.
He could see that some of what he’d thought was dirt on Danny’s arms and legs, his torso, along his spine… was blood.
And his face was still bleeding fresh, new bright red to cover over the dark dried brownish flakes on his cheeks under the grid.
And when he got him inside, Bram had looked up at them from his place sitting at the kitchen table, and smiled.
He’d taken pictures, with his phone, of the bloody wreckage where a man once had been.
And Nate had thought to himself, I’m going to kill you one day. And for the first time in seven years, he meant it.
In the present , Nate came back to himself, to the curious, patient stare of the detective. “I’m s-s-sorry, you had asked-”
“What was different about this instance?”
“Oh, um, time… He sp-spent two m-months in the… away f-f-from me, and when we g-g-got him back upstairs and c-clean-”
“How long had you gone without seeing him during the captivity prior to the event?”
“… I didn’t, n-not since Abraham took him. I s-s-saw him every single day until then, except w-w-when he took m-me on a supply run or t-two. We were… we were e-e-everything for each other.”
Still are. He’s everything, and no one’s going to take him away again.
“When he brought Mr. Michaelson back up from the cellar, you were still angry about what happened in July?”
Nate just nodded, this time, and took another drink of coffee. It was cooling rapidly in the little questioning room, and he frowned down at it. It was terrible coffee - Danny would hate it, he’d never stopped being a coffee snob even during the worst days, at the end, when he didn’t even get to drink the coffee he’d made, because…
“Bram wouldn’t take it off,” Nate said in a low voice. The anger was back, the fury that lived inside of him and flipped the switch inside his brain. The words suddenly came easily, all but fell out of his mouth, tumbled over each other in his eagerness for someone to understand what he’d done and why. “He wouldn’t take the fucking thing off of him, even after he brought him back up. Just to sh-shower, for eating. He made him… he’d worn it for…” He counted it up, the days and weeks of seeing Danny’s empty fucking eyes, and knew he’d done the right thing. “… he’d worn it for five goddamn months by the time I got him out.“
The woman sat back, watching him carefully, writing quickly on her notepad without ever taking her eyes off of his face. “Five months, Mr. Vandrum?”
"Five. Months. He didn’t get to take it off - other than to eat or for me to take care of his- his bleeding, to get his face cleaned up and bandaged-… for five months.”
“I understand,” She said, with that exaggerated but impersonal empathy that he fucking hated hearing in cop shows and definitely hated even more in real life. “Mr. Michaelson didn’t tell us it was that long.”
“He p-p-probably doesn’t r-remember. I was… I’d been m-mad before, but you kn-know, you g-g-get over being mad, in a relationship. You fight a-and you work it out, s-sometimes he hurt m-m-me until I stopped b-being angry, but…” One of the woman’s eyebrows twitched upwards, then just as quickly went back down. She said nothing. “But th-this… he knew, he knew he wouldn’t come b-back, this t-t-time, and he didn’t.”
“Come back? Can you explain-”
“D-Danny goes away in his head when it’s on h-him. He's…”
“Yes,” The detective said, thoughtfully. “The trauma expert told us he dissociates, and he does seem to struggle with understanding where he is, or when he is.”
“Wh-who he is,” Nate whispered.
My name is Red and I belong to Abraham Denner.
“Right. So you’re saying that the muzzle-” Nate flinched at the word, and the detective cleared her throat. “Apologies. You’re saying the implement is the cause of his dissociation, and he doesn’t come back until you take it off. That Mr. Denner purposefully kept it on, and kept him dissociated, for five months.”
“Y-Yes.”
“So when he chose to keep it on… this upset you further?” The woman asked, voice pitched lower and lower.
“Of c-course it did. He let me c-clean him up, and everything, but he m-m-made me p-put it back on afterwards. Over and oh-over, and… and over-” Nate’s voice broke, caught with the tears he hadn’t shed, not in a long time. The guilt might eat him alive. He’d let it go on for so long before he could pull everything off, before he could do what he had to do. This was on him, all of it. What had happened to Danny, what had been taken from him. How little was left. “He s-said it wasn’t coming off this time until he felt like he’d learned, th-that he’s not a p-person, just the f-f-fucking puppy.”
The detective swallowed. Her composure did not crack, not for a moment.
“He’s n-not. He’s not wh-what Bram always, always s-s-said he was, he’s not. He is a person!”
He’s my person.
Mine.
“I understand your frustration,” She said, carefully compassionate, still distant. Did she not like him, Nate wondered or was it just professional composure, not to crack under the weight of the story Nate was telling her? “This was the catalyst for the actions you undertook between October and December 10th?”
“Yes.”
Catalyst. Perfect word for it, wasn’t it? Nate smiled, the barest, faintest little smile. Yes, it had been the catalyst.
Daniel had come up from the cellar filthy, clinging to Nate with eyes that saw something else, that belonged to someone else. Bram had ordered Nate to get him into the shower and clean him up, and then put him back on his mat.
Every bit of dirty water down the drain, all the shaggy red hair he’d cut off when he couldn’t get the tangles to come apart no matter how long he combed at them… every new wound and scarring bit of skin and bruise he’d found… every time Danny whined at the feel of his hands, even though Nate took the thing off in the shower…
All of it was a little bit more of what tied Nate to Bram - the fear and the affection, the love and the pain, the power of his eyes - draining away.
Danny’s broken arm had healed even if more of the rest of him was hurt - Bram must have splinted it, while he was in the cellar, in the dog crate. Even with the thing off his face, Danny didn’t come back, not even for a second. He just sat there, empty, and allowed himself to be cleaned.
Once he was clean, the story of the past two months in the darkness became even more apparent. Nate could see new cuts, reddish and infected, layered over old mostly-healed ones. His body was littered with bruising, and when he took the collar off for the shower he could see that the skin was raw and blistered under there.
He fastened the collar back on, at Bram’s command, but at least he could make it looser for him, this time.
He could see the muzzle wounds dug so deeply into his face that Nate thought his jaw might never heal all the way that his nose would always look like that now dug in hard on the top. They kept leaking blood even after he bandaged them, thin blood vessels so close to the surface, so repeatedly forced into exposure with the air.
And he could see, in the empty blank blue eyes, the worst wound of all - the way Danny had retreated into his own mind to escape, and couldn’t find his way back out.
Once he was cleaned up, dried off, and dressed in a thin button-up and his cotton pajama pants, Danny sat quietly on his mat, staring at nothing, and no matter how Nate tried to get him back, he was gone.
Not even when Bram ordered him into the bed that night.
All Danny did was stare blankly at the two of them and do exactly what he was told. He fell asleep that night with his head resting on his shoulder, wavy red hair tickling at his ear, the metal grid of the muzzle pressing lightly against Nate’s neck.
Nate had held him until he fell asleep, and known he couldn’t keep going like this. The fury did not die under Bram’s eyes, this time. 
He held on to that fury for as long as it took to do what he had to do to save him.
“This was in late September. We didn’t receive the call until… December 11th, it says, that you and Mr. Michaelson reported yourselves to a police station around 2 am. What happened?”
Nate swallowed.
I stopped loving Bram.
I learned how to love Danny more.
“I came up with a plan.”
“A plan, Mr. Vandrum?”
Nate looked her right in the eyes, and dared her to question what he had had to do. Dared her to say a goddamn word about his choices that night.
“Yes, m-ma’am.”
“And your plan was…”
“A m-m-murder.”
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fallen029 · 4 years ago
Text
I’ve been trying to get a part of OpB out a month, but this month I got swamped and just didn’t have time. I’m hoping I get it finished by this weekend, but it might not happen, so for the ones of you who follow me over here, I thought I’d post the first half (or quarter, really), for you to read over. This part involves a lot coming together all at once, so it’s just been a bit of a hassle to piece together. 
I don’t usually post OpB shit over here and I’m not going to start, but if you see this and wanna follow the rest of it, it’s over on Fanfic and Archive. You don’t have to be all caught up or even read any of the rest of the Remember Me shit to understand it. It stands on it’s own, loosely in the Fairy Tail realm, focusing on the slave trade in Bosco. Nearly full OC, and kinda just me indulging my own shit a bit. It’s not for everyone, but I rather like it. 
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Operation Bosco: A Call to Arms, IV
it was always strange.
The feeling of it.
Waking up.
Since Haven had been revived following the mishap on the gauntlet, it was always a bit of a jolt, first thing, as her eyes peeked open and she was greeted to a new day. There were some difficulties in adjusting, right at the start, to the feeling. Her chest would get heavy and the breaths she drew in always seemed to burn, just a bit, as the scarring over her stomach itched.
For as bad as the nights were though, the mornings made it worth it.
She’d never really taken a break. Before. Had always been on, constantly. From the day her parents let her start snagging the fliers off the job board, she’d either spent her days completing them or training to be able to do so.  Days were meant for toiling and nights were meant for getting fucked up in her father’s guildhall. Her mind was focused on very few things and everything felt simple. Easy. Broken down.
Get stronger and reward yourself along the way.
But when she was revived, things were different. She couldn’t take jobs right off the bat, she was too weak to train in the first few weeks, and her father no longer held a guildhall for her to act out in, with not too veiled hopes of gathering his attention.
Everything was different.
Locke had to go back out, on jobs, and even once she was up to training, she had no one but her boyfriend’s father or Ajax to do it with. Navi was gone, Locke now had friends, real friends that he wanted to spend time with, if he wasn’t out, and it was jarring.
All of it.
Her family was there, but she was trying to ease back into those relationships and they were dealing with their own trauma, what with her coming back to life and her father disappearing in the middle of the night.
She’d spend days, both with or without Locke, at a bit of a loss as to how to get back to where she was. Or, honestly, how to be sure she’d never return to it. There was a call for the long stretches of solitude and peaceful atmosphere she was rewarded with, but at the same time, it felt far more like a punishment.
She was a woman of action. Strong action. Constantly falling in and out of dangerous scenarios in order to prove her worth. Those few months of either taking no jobs or taking one and needing a be recovery period was hard on her.
Very hard.
“I never want to be like this again,” she told Locke, more than once, and he only snickered, smiling even, in the beginning when he was still just amazed to see her alive and breathing, with him once more. “Don’t nothing. Sitting around. Waiting.”
“It’ll be different in Bosco,” he assured her and it was still a dream to them then, not fully realized or understood, what it would mean.
What any of it would mean.
She spent months getting stronger and him proving himself to the guild master, just to find their power and prowess useless. He’d spent the majority of their time away on guard duty, back on base or across the border, while her true powers had been suppressed and her new, fancy one she was so pleased to wield had only come into play once.
And for what?
So she could find herself folding clothes in a sweatshop, hoping to win the approval of women that saw her as little more than a kid. A fucking, stupid kid whose current placement in life did more to depress them than, perhaps, their current surroundings. Reminded them of their first time. Times. In new places, adjusting to the new regulation and lack of freedom they were presented.
There was a resignation, back in Ewings, but it wasn’t buried nearly as deeply as it was the majority of the women she was currently housed with. The majority of them were too old, had been under too long, and she was made known of this the second she tried to broach the topic with any of them.
It was a headbanging kind of realization, the ones she had every single day and night, as she tried to assimilate herself with these women. She lacked the nerves or fears she had, on Ewing’s manor, but they were instead replaced with frustrating jitters of wanting to do something, to start something, but not quite being able.
She didn’t connect well with other people. She never had. But it was now a major part of the job and, though she wished that both Locke and Shae were able to carry the heavy load in this, she knew that her position in the hoped revolution was very important.
One of the things that she’d learned recently from the short months she’d spent back home actually came during that down time she hated. And from Marin, her lame younger sister, of all fucking people. Marin possessed the potential for all the power in the world, but balked in her formative years, and instead had to build other skills.
She wasn’t great at it either, after all. Connecting to other people. And maybe that was Haven’s fault, at least somewhat, but whatever it was, Marin found ways to overcome it. Where Haven thought to prove herself physically and violently, Marin managed her natural awkward disposition in another way.
With her natural abilities repressed, she found herself accessing social skills in other ways. She learned things about people, rather easily. She served them beers and fed them filling food until they felt comfortable enough to express things to her. Whether this was intentional or not, it allowed her to easily transverse any other personal relationships she was forced to have with others. They felt naturally inclined to consider her something. Not exactly a friend and maybe not a confidant, but at least someone that, even when sober and starving, they could count on to be there for them.
The best part of this arrangement was that Marin hardly had to offer anything difficult up to others; she merely had to provide the expected level of care. This wasn’t exactly an imparted benefit on Haven through word of mouth, but rather observation. She watched her mostly quiet and reserved sister in the guildhall many times following her resurrection, and it was a very alternate experience from how Marin was once treated around the place.
By doing her work, she found an avenue that otherwise wouldn’t be easily presented to her.
Haven wanted to be like that. With her job. To do her job and make friends along the way. It used to be that way, anyways, when she was just a regular mage, running around helping others. She fell in and out of relationships in her time away from Fairy Tail, nothing serious, but her prowess had always spoken when she was unable. Helped her fall in with the people she needed in the moment who required her powers just as heavily.
But now she didn’t need them. Didn’t have them. Couldn’t use them. It felt better, honestly, than it had back at Ewings place, now able to at least use her transformation magic, but it still ached a bit, as it always would, whenever she couldn’t draw electricity through her veins at will.
It was depressing.
Just how things had felt, when last year’s long, hot summer had faded into the darkness of a new season. But now she was trapped in the dull shadows of a hotbox sweatshop, equally as shut-in and alone, but just for different reasons.
Sulking wasn’t productive though. Nor was her natural inclinations towards anger and brash attitudes. Shae and Locke were both out of their element and struggling to find ground, but she was given the easiest job of all; she couldn’t fuck it up.
She just had to gain the trust of a bunch of old women.
Marin did it with the older men in the bar, plying them full of beer and liquor and listening to their problems. Finally, for once drawing true inspiration from her sister, Haven found that getting frustrated with her position wasn’t going to get her anyways; she just had to do her job and keep her head down.
So she tried it.
Haven had always been kind of afraid of it. Silence. Left to her own devices. To think. After her ventures into the afterlife’s eternity, she found mostly that she’d never not be afraid of the concept. Silence was just too much for her to handle.
But without even Shae now, it was what her days were mostly filled with. And as she focused, tried hard to get the folding and sorting all down, box breaking and box opening, but fuck.
Fuck.
It was just hard.
But she seemed to be endearing herself more, this way. Or at least she thought. There was a woman, anyways, of the few that were on folding and packing duty, that seemed to not look on her as harshly as she once had.
She was a...hearty woman, Haven thought. Homely, maybe, was the word. She kept her messy brown hair clipped back and out of her face for the most part, but sometimes a strand would fall from its containment and she was mutter curses just loud enough for the typical blonde to catch. A dark, rough patch laid over the older woman’s eye and she cursed about it at times too, wiggling a finger beneath the fabric to deal with an itch.
She went by Bea, the woman did, and she was a glimpse into the world Haven was merely visiting.
It started just like that. Not so harsh looks and, eventually, her grumbling at Haven to take a seat, beside her and two of the other women, during lunch break, down in the grass.
There wasn’t much to talk about. They probably didn’t really have much in common, removed from their current position, but they were trapped, all of them, with the magical marker denoting them as less than, and if they only had one thing to speak on, then it made sense that they eventually would.
“You wanna ask about it,” Bea remarked one day in that gruff she had. They’d had a few conversations by this point, short and to the point. Grumbles over the food, the work, maybe on a too cool summer evening, about the pond water. But this time, as they sat together in the warm grass, sun bearing down on them as they scarfed down their lunch, it seemed different. The tone. The intention. “All the new people do.”
Haven knew what she was talking about, of course, but even for as socially inept as she typically was, even she knew that she was heading down the entirely wrong path. Quickly shaking her head, she had to swallowed the hardened sliver of bread and warm meat of some sort that they’d been served before saying, “N-No, I haven’t. I-”
“Things were different,” Bea told her simply and this, at least, hadn’t been the first time she’d heard such at hing. “Around here. Before.”
Haven paused, not wishing to ward off the potential for further conversations, but also being reverent of letting this once slip through her grasps.
“Before?” she asked softly.
“Before,” the older woman went on, “the current master. The young one. The son.” She almost sneered, maybe, shaking her head as she insisted, “He’s not nearly the...man his father was.”
“Did he...did he take your-”
“Plucked it right out.” She made a popping noise with her mouth that made a woman sitting nearby visibly appear revolted. Bea only reached up, almost absently, to sneak a finger beneath the flap, scratching with a sigh. “Punishments were stiffer. The work harder. What we were dealin’… But I was so young then. Your age, maybe younger. Things were just...different.”
“That’s fucked,” Haven remarked, but Bea only shrugged.
“I’ve seen yours.” Then she made that face again, that sneer, the finger slipping back out from beneath the patch so that she could gently tap the pad against the course fabric. “Well, as well as I can see somethin’-”
“What do you mean?”
“Your scars. On your stomach.” Bea raised an eyebrow. “Told ya mine.”
Which meant she wanted Haven to tell hers. It was probably the entire reason she’d brought up the conversation in the first place.
It was with a bit of a sigh that Haven thought about it. All of it. She had a lot of scars, of course, and wore them well, but the most important…
The fact it was even visible was her own fault, honestly. Her transformation wasn’t that draining, but she needed it to be perfectly even, refilled and never taking away too much. Leaving her scars where they were, hidden beneath her clothing, was an easy concession. And the visible ones only added to her credibility. But they all stripped together, each night, and even though the moonlight didn’t illuminate much, all light only revealed the most inconvenient. Or at least it always had for Haven.
“I got cut open,” she admitted, softly, and though it wasn’t the full truth, as she looked away and reflected, she told just enough of it that her pain was not only convincing, but real. “Died. A-Almost, I mean. I almost died. Someone was able to use magic to save me.”
“All that miracle,” Bea sighed with a click of her tongue and a shake of her head, “only to land you here.”
“Only,” Haven agreed, “to land me here.”
Things only seemed to look up from there. It was difficult, of course, to be too optimistic for the future when you were dealing in such a dank reality, but Haven did feel good about herself. Bea seemed to like her well enough, maybe, and though the other women all seemed to be distant, it was nice to have something of an in.
She felt comfortable in it, at least somewhat, and was very ready to shove it in the often doubting Locke’s face one day when she disappeared off into the shed, equally anticipating her boyfriend as she was the soda pop he’d bring.
Which was why, as he slipped in empty handed, she had a bit of a glare.
“Nothing?” she questioned. “I literally have nothing to look forward to and you still manage to disappoint-”
“Haven.” He rushed the short distance to stand before her, his goofy gaze rather harsh that day. Clouded. Concerned. Reaching out, he grasped her cheeks in his hands, forcing her to stare up at him, linking their gaze. “Something’s happened. Or is happening. I don’t-”
“Is it Shae?” She shoved him off, tossing up an arm and, originally intending it to crackle with the heat of electricity, she instead found herself merely flexing. “We’ll fuck ‘em up, Locke. We’ll-”
“No, Have, it’s…” He only frowned at her. “It’s you.”
Deflating some, Haven returned the gaze though hers was accompanied by a raised brow as she questioned, “What do you mean?”
He wasn’t quite sure, honestly.
The concern came from Shae herself.
Locke had the benefit (misfortune?) of being one of the guards sent up to the penthouse, not for their irregular defiling of select hostages, but rather to rouse Monty from where he was shirking on his duties. It had been with a bit of a huff that Wick chose him, finding the young man eating with some of the other guards in the dining room, and as he and Locke bounded up the stairs, his only offered explanation was, “You talk sense to him, Hux. He likes you.”
But he didn’t like Wick.
No one liked Wick.
He was a cold man, older than the other guards and from the old breed, Anderson had sneered to Locke once behind the man’s back. He kept to himself and mostly seemed to find his time spent trying to get Monty to do anything other than drink and hide in his arcade or penthouse.
It was a difficult task.
But recently, the Master had taken quite the liking to Hux and, while that was annoying to some of the other guards, Wick saw this as a new, unexplored advantage. Guys listened to their friends, after all, and if the new guard could, at the very least, supply an easy way to control the Master, then, well, his presence was worth it.
Up in the penthouse though, as Wick moved through the living area, unconcerned mostly with the women that hung around, and instead headed to bang on Monty’s bedroom door, Locke uneasily glanced around at the women seemed equally as uneasy to see him. He almost raised his hand to wave at their very pointed avoided glanced, but he didn’t have a chance as someone came rushing over to him.
Shae had spent the past few days sitting by the door, mostly. She avoided Monty when she could, but felt it very important that she get to Locke, as soon as possible. Being locked away in the penthouse, this felt completely impossible as the man, she knew, would avoid the place like a plague. Still, there really wasn’t anything to do, at all, other than slowly go insane in the place and though she knew she was meant to be gaining trusts of the women around her, she found herself far more worried over something else.
She’d gotten up. Right before he came in. To find what had been left for them to eat in the kitchen. There was more, here, than down in the sweatshop, but most of the women, especially those who’d been there long, seemed to survive mostly on their pills and alcohol.
But Locke came in, while she was doing that, and at first, the sight of Wick stalking through the apartment wasn’t a welcome one to the woman and she hung back. But as he was barking for Monty, Shae saw the man she was actually looking for and, not knowing exactly when she’d be given another opportunity, she ran right for him.
It was awkward, the next few motions, as she hesitated and Locke tensed, at the feeling of someone approaching him in such a manner, but then there was the awkwardness of all the women staring and one of them had to say something, but it had to be here, because she was the one who had something to say, and while he was too shocked for much more than his silence, Shae knew she need to get the information to him as subtly as possible and, well, given their implied relations by that point, she figured it wasn’t too out of the realms what she did next.
Somehow, it was even more awkward.
Locke pulled back, when he realized what he was doing and it was like pressing her lips against nothing, mostly his chin, honestly, as she leaned up, but not enough to account for how hard he was trying to evade.
Pulling away herself, just slightly, she whispered, “Haven’s in trouble.”
Locke blinked with a questioning, “What?”
“Take this.” And her hands had been wrapped around his neck, but one of her balled up fists opened then and a folded slip of paper tickled the back of his neck as it tumbled down beneath the collar of his tucked in shirt and came to rest around his hip line, right where his too tight cut off passage. Shae’s eyes were wild as she insisted to the man, “You have to do something.”
It was on instinct, almost, the way he nodded at her solemn tone, but again, the seconds in this encounter were stifled by another immediately following it.
Wick had been coming out of the bedroom then, chewing out an inebriated Monty while he was at it, but this stopped suddenly when he saw what was taking place. Shae still had an arm wrapped around Locke’s neck and he was still too dazed to do much about it. The sight, for some reason, caused Wick to shout at them, but his gaze was quickly somewhere else.
“Enough,” he’d growled, the older man had, and all the women, who hadn’t really relaxed the entire time, seemed even more uneased by the action. With a deep growl, he was stalking right back across the room then to grab Shae roughly by the arm and toss her to the side. “You will not-”
“Hey!” Locke bucked right up as Shae, fighting against all instinct she knew, forced herself to only fall away and not bite back at the man.
“Shut your fucking mouth.” And Wick turned to Locke once more, raising his hand and striking him, sharply right above his left ear. Having been raised on such things, if anything the feeling made the hardy mage almost nostalgic. If only the hit wasn’t so weak with no true iron behind it. As Locke blinked away the feeling, his direct superior only glared darkly into his red eyes. With a shake of his head, Wick insisted, “You will never do that again. Do you understand? You are on duty. And in front of her?”
“In front of who?” Locke griped as he resisted the urge to rub at his ear. “What are you talking about?”
But Wick just huffed then, turning on his heel and walking over to where some of the women were coward, wincing as he came close, but there was only one that he seemed interested in. Locke had seen her before and, though she hadn’t stood out to him before, he recognized her as one of the women that worked in the kitchen. Not marked. Hired help. She was the youngest one of them, a teenager, and Locke had mostly steered clear of the kitchen help, not quite sure how they fit into liberation.
He grabbed her though, Wick did, hissing something about how she shouldn’t be up here, right now, and she was wide eyed, the teenager was, nodding her head and being drug from the penthouse while everyone else stood stock still and eerily silent.
As the teen and Wick disappeared out the door, a beat would come to pass before Monty, the only one capable of breaking the tension laughed, drunkenly, shaking his head as he continued on then.
“C’mon, Hux,” he slurred as he came to weakly slug the man in the shoulder. Grinning, his glassy eyes found Locke’s as he remarked, “Gotta finish work, huh?”
“Yeah,” Locke agreed with a nod and, though he did glance at Shae, he turned to follow after the Master.
Monty stumbled down the stairs with Locke’s help and, with some more assistance, the mage managed to shove the guy into his office where, following, he was certain to close the door behind them.
“Wick’s just freaked,” Monty explained, going to fall into his chair. “That I don’t, uh, seem presentable to my uncle.”
“Your uncle?”
“Alwood.” He sniffled though, at the man’s name, Monty did. Raking a hand across his face, he groaned some as he said, “Man look’s out for me.”
But he couldn’t even think about that sort of thing, in that moment, Locke couldn’t. Instead, he only paced a bit, around the small office, while Monty continued to rub at his face trying to wake himself up.
“Can I ask you something?” Locke finally asked and Monty waved his hand a bit.
“Sit down and do it,” he grumbled a bit. “Giving me a headache.”
Hesitating, Locke glanced at the door before going to sink into one of the plush chairs that set before the desk. Softly, he asked, “Who was that? That girl?”
“I dunno,” Monty replied as he rubbed a palm roughly into one eye, the stinking eventually causing him to gasp and drop his hand. Then, dryly, he replied, “You’re the one fuckin’ her.”
“What? No, I meant… The one that Wick drug out of there,” he explained. “The young one. Who-”
“That’s Wick’s fuckin’ daughter.”
“He’s what?”
Monty snorted then, sneering some as he sat back in his chair and focused on the ceiling for a moment. “I’s a kid when it all happened. It was under my dad that it all happened. That fucker. Left me all this shit to deal with. And fuck Wick too. Asshole. Thinks he so good. So great. Knocked the woman up. Down in The Factory. Judges me. He does the same fucking thing. Did. Whatever.”
Locke shifted, a question on his tongue, but doing so caused the slip of paper down the back of his shirt to scratch against his back and, suddenly, he couldn't give a shit about Wick.
“Hey, man, are you going to be alright?” Jumping up, Locke forgot for a moment that he actually, sort of, had a job to do and straightened at the remembrance. As he looked over Monty, he added, “If I take off?”
Monty ran a hand for once through his hair, causing it to become even more disheveled. Shaking his head, he said, “Gotta, uh, sober up. Before Alwood comes around.”
Locke found it unlikely that this would be accomplished, but he had his own problems to worry about. Not only did he imagine Wick would be on his ass, should he run into the man again, but he needed to get that slip of paper and read it over as soon as possible.
His room was empty, thankfully, when he arrived at it. On occasion, the other guys would be lingering around to talk or try and goad him into going into town with him. They all got their checks every two weeks and, now with a sizable accumulation of cicles, the offer seemed like it should have been more enticing to him than he was displaying to the others.
But he didn’t want to leave the property. Not with Haven around. If he told her about it, she’d goad him into going out with the other guards, get to know them better, study them, learn something useful to the cause, but fuck that. He wasn’t leaving her alone on the property.
It was hard enough knowing she was so close and yet barred off from him the majority of the time.
His chest was pounding, as it had since what had popped off upstairs, but alone now, closed off in his tiny bedroom, his heart felt like it was trying to rip from his chest. Ripping off his shirt, he probably looked a foo as he spun around in a tight circle, trying to find where the slip of paper had fluttered off to, freed now.
It wasn’t much. As he found the white slip sticking out against his dark hardwood floor, his fingers trembled some and he was both disappointed and terrified by just how short in length Shae’s note was.
She had to be straight to the point, of course, and there wasn’t much there for him to glance over, but still, he found himself collapsing onto the edge of his bed as his eyes traced over the short writing.
Alwood’s taking Haven back with him. Stop her from going. I’ve heard bad things about him. She’s not safe.
The note didn’t tell him much. And though he tried to get what he could out of the guys he had patrol with the next morning, because of the former, he didn’t have much to offer Haven that day, as he stared with heavy concern at what, truly, was a strange woman, but exuded all the warmth (or lack there of) that his girlfriend did.
He’d spent the majority of his life trying to protect her. And others. It was in his nature, since he was a boy. He liked for all the people he cared about to be as safe as possible. This was a difficult task, growing up as a mage, but he always saw after his friends. Haven especially.
His whole point in coming to this place was for that exact reason. He dreamed of more, he wanted more, but deep down, it was the only thing that really mattered.
“Alwood is going to try and take you,” he told her simply. “But I’m not going to let him.”
Haven stood there for a moment, after his words, losing her tension and fear for Shae and, at least somewhat, gaining some for herself.
“Alwood,” she repeated his name softly then, frowning, “knows Ewing.”
“What?”
“I told you. That’s where I know him from.” Turning from the man, she could only blink in the darkness, her desire for static, not to draw, but to expel, pooling in the pit of her stomach. “What if Ewing told him about me? And he came here to get me?”
“Haven, I don’t think-”
“He knew me, Locke.” She shook her head some. “From the last time. When I was there. The first time. He knew exactly who I was. He’s connected and shit and is after me now, I bet, and-”
“If you need me to get you out of here-”
“What?”
Locke looked quite serious when she glanced over her shoulder at him. Softly, he said, “I’ll sneak you out. Whatever. That’s why I came. If you or Shae run into trouble-”
“I’m not in trouble.”
“What do you mean? You think some rich fucking sicko is out to get you.”
“Are you kidding? Fuck him. He’s after me? Ewing’s after me?” She turned quickly then, bouncing on her feet, seemingly amped. “Fuck him. He doesn’t know what he’s messing with.”
“Haven-”
“I’ll kill him. I’ll kill them all.”
“You’re not-”
“I’ll fucking kill them, Locke.” She threw up a fist again, still with no electricity behind him, but as the blow connected to Locke’s chest, he had to suck in a breath. Twisting her fist, she pressed harder into him, but didn’t stumble forwards, instead only hanging her head, arm taut and rigid as she breathed heavily down at their feet. Bravado deflated, she only whispered, “I’ll fucking kill him, Locke.”
“You won’t have to.” He balled his own fist, but it was only to crash it down on the top of her head, sighing some as he took in her new look. When she raised her eyes, they were dark and not her own, but the heaving of her chest alternated perfectly with his own as he tugged her to him. “I fucking will.”
Haven rested there for a moment, indulging maybe, if just for a moment. Shoving him off after a beat, she only whispered, “You can’t kill shit. Fucking worthless.”
“If you had killed Ewing back at his place,” Locke retorted with a frown, “then we wouldn’t even be having to deal with this shit.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“You’re,” he replied, “in trouble. You get that, right? This isn’t a joke. You can’t go back with Alwood. And if he’s intent on taking you, then it’s probably best if we start figuring a way to get you out-”
“No way.”
“Haven-”
“Give me time,” she insisted. “We can’t fuck this up. Shae upstairs, I’m down here, you’re a guard… This is too perfect to not be the plan. How it’s meant to be.”
“I’m not going to let you-”
“I’m not going with him. I won’t.”
“Then-”
“I don’t fucking know, okay?” Shaking her head, she asked instead, “How do you even know they’re taking me? Have you spoken to him? Alwood? Or did your little friend the master-”
“Shae told me.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. “She, uh, passed me a note.”
“How does she know?”
“Haven, I don’t fucking know.” It was his turn to be annoyed. “How do you not know? If she does? I thought you told me you were making friends.”
“Friend. I’m making a friend.”
“Haven-”
“I’ll ask her about it.” Haven seemed to snap out of her funk, if only for a moment, as she snapped her fingers together. “I’ll ask her to tell me everything she can about Alwood and if she knows why he’d even want me, what for and all that, right? She’ll tell me. We talked, you know? Seriously talked. About-”
“You’re not going,” Locke told her simply. “With Alwood. If I have to drag you out of here kicking and screaming-”
“Calm down. Idiot.” Haven held her head higher. “I didn’t want to go with him either. I’m not going to. Especially not if he’s tangled with Ewing. That’s not why we came. We came to get access to tunnels or some shit, right? So I’m going to fucking get us that.” Then she conceded a bit, “We’re going to fucking get those. I’m going to talk to Bea and you’re going to actually be fucking useful and we’ll figure out how to avoid Alwood all together. When does he leave?”
“I don’t know. I-”
“Useless.” She shoved him this time, but it was playfully, maybe, and Locke pushed her back, maybe too hard, but he was kind of tired of being smacked that day. Still, when she sighed, he gave one back, only nodding his head when she ordered, “Find out. Okay?”
It felt weird, when she turned her head up to press her lips to his, and Locke laughed some into the kiss, which got him shoved again, but he only shook his head.
“Doesn’t feel right,” he told her. “Here. With...this you.”
She snorted, shoving passed him then, “if you could make yourself taller-”
“I’m going to find out when he’s leaving,” he insisted. “And if we haven’t figured a way to make sure he’s not taking you with him-”
“You worry too much, Locke.” And she clipped his name the way that he liked. Poised to head right out of the shed, she only reminded, “Do what I told you and everything will be alright.”
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andtheyweredeskmates · 4 years ago
Text
Of Latte’s and Lingerie- Chapter Eleven
Thank you guys for reading. I was super productive and wrote two chapters today so enjoy. I’m not gonna keep linking every chapter like I usually do because it takes forever but I’ll start linking to the first, last and next chapters and there’s always my AO3 link if you need to read a chapter in between! Anyways, loving the feedback! Love hearing from your guys!
AO3 - Chapter 1- Chapter 10
Taglist: @catsssmeow @toodaloo-kangaroo
It was a long time before Adrien got to see Marinette again. He was sure to text her at least every night, asking about her day, getting to know her, but Marinette was working long hours to help Audrey prepare for the upcoming show, so she didn’t have time to go our for more coffee. Adrien considered a few times to offer to bring her dinner, but he felt nervous. Upon Nino’s recommendation however, he did attempt to flirt with her. Unfortunately that wasn’t really going according to plan.
When he tried his lines came out a little like this:
Coffee Buddy:
So you have a cat? I bet she’s not as cute as you
Or
You’re parent’s make sweets? I’d love to sample the goods.
And finally, his most recent disaster
The only thing that would make your lingerie line better is you wearing it
Adrien hit his head back against the headboard.
“WHY.” Smack.
“DID.” Smack.
“I.” Smack.
“SAY.” Smack.
“THAT.” Smack.
It was official. He was an idiot. He was coming on too strong and he knew it. He’d always imagined that when he finally met the girl of his dreams he’d be suave and cool and he was anything but. He’d never had issues with girls before… although he’d never really been that interested in one either. Of course, texting was making everything worse. He had no idea how she was really reacting to his comments behind the screen and it was making him crazy. It’s been nearly two weeks since he’d seen Marinette and he was starting to think she might never want to see him again.
At the sound of his phone buzzing he lunged for it.
Marinette was bright red. She stared at her phone while her brain attempted to reboot itself. She thought up a thousand ways to respond, no- a million. They ranged from “Thank you” to “Well do I have a surprise for you” but she couldn’t bring herself to type any of them. She’d been texting her hot man friend for two weeks now and she felt like a teenager. It was fun and exciting and unbelievably nerve wrecking. She wasn’t completely dumb. She could tell he was flirting. But she also wasn’t entirely convinced that he liked her as much as she liked him and that was terrifying. For god’s sakes that’s exactly why she had broken up with Luka. She just couldn’t return the same feelings that he was showing her. She was beginning to realize how awful that feeling must have been.
Her mind was going every where at once. Surely it shouldn’t take this much effort to respond to a flirty text. Do normal people have this problem?
“Marinette!” Marinette jumped and dropped her phone on the floor.
“Ah!” She yelped.
“You are so jumpy, what are you doing? You’re staring at you’re phone like its going to eat you. Can we focus please?” Audrey was standing in the corner of the conference room, leaning against the wall. She had a dry erase marker in her hand and she was writing on the window which was acting as their makeshift drawing board.
“Sorry, what were you saying?” Marinette apologized. She bent down to pick up her phone and nearly shrieked again when she saw it. It was absolutely fucking destroyed.
Adrien pouted when he saw it was just Nino texting him.
DJ Bubbler
Hey man, I think me and Alya are actually gonna go grab a bite to eat. You mind if I bail tonight.
Adrien sighed.
Adrikins
Nah its cool. I’ll probably go to bed early
That was a lie. Adrien knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he got some sort of response to his text. He was a worrier by nature and he wasn’t really sure why he thought that wouldn’t apply to women. It was Friday and he didn’t have to work tomorrow so staying up all night wasn’t really a problem, but his sanity was already starting to waver. The scenarios in his head were endless.
Maybe she’s just busy at work? She doesn’t have her read receipts on so there’s no way of knowing I’ve been left on read but if she doesn’t have time to respond I can’t be upset.
Maybe she thought it was such a cute, flirty text she literally died. Adrien wondered briefly if that was considered manslaughter.
Maybe she thinks Adrien is a total idiot and doesn’t want to talk to him anymore. That was clearly the worst-case scenario here.
Adrien couldn’t handle the stress so he hatched a plan.
Marinette couldn’t help but be antsy throughout the rest of her late night meeting. It was nine o clock and she still had no idea what to say back to “Aiden”. Not that she had a way of responding anyway. She’s definitely going to have to get a new phone.
“I don’t know what your freaking out about Mari, just buy a new one, you aren’t exactly poor,” Audrey had said rolling her eyes. “I ought to know, I’m paying you.” Marinette didn’t know how to explain that it wasn’t the purchase of a new phone that was the problem. But it wasn’t just her boy problems that was distracting Marinette. She hadn’t eaten since her lunch break at noon and she was starving.
Audrey seemed oblivious to Marinette’s lack of presence. She was currently berating Marinette’s assistant about how everything better be perfect or he would definietely be
“-Fired. Understand Fabio?” The assistant was so terrified he didn’t even bother to mention that his name was really Francis. He just nodded feverishly.
The meeting was interrupted by Audrey’s secretary.
“Um, excuse me miss, there’s someone here to see Marinette.” Audrey glanced at the secretary with a look of interest.
“Oh? Who?”
“I’m not sure ma’am he just asked that he could bring her some dinner.” Marinette was suddenly very present. Who on earth would come here to bring her food? Audrey grinned.
“Well why don’t you send him in?”
Adrien’s plan was fairly solid. He would just bring her food in and talk to her. It would be pretty obvious if she didn’t want to talk to him anymore.
The secretary came back to the front desk and eased into her chair.
“Go on in to conference room B sweetheart. It’s just down the hall.” Adrien nodded and smiled.
“Thank you.” He made his way down the hallway with determination, forcing himself to be confident.
“I am Adrien Agreste and I can talk to a woman.” He muttered to himself. He opened the door and walked in tucking the Chinese food he had under his arm.
When he looked up he saw three people gathered around a large table staring at him.
“Adrien?”
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sm-entertain-me · 6 years ago
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Remember (T)
Contains: Lee Haechan/Donghyuck x (f) reader, adult language, sexual themes, brief descriptions of sex, vanilla sex, tasteful smut, ANGST. Trigger warning: Dad walking out on child
Synopsis: It's time to take a break from your hectic life and remember who you once were, and who once loved you.
(NO PROOFREAD, my work never is tbh.)
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You remember the look on his face when you two had first met, him being absolutely dumbfounded that someone so beautiful could ever exist in the world. He knew from the start that he had to talk to you, had to be the subject of your attention. Haechan needed to have your eyes on him and only him as he sauntered over to you at the lunchroom, noticing that you had no one sitting next to you.
"Is this seat taken?" A small voice asked as you saw the shape of a person take form to the right of you, turning to see where the voice came from. Ah yes, you even remember the exact outfit he wore that day. A crisp button down shirt that had the sleeves rolled up, ripped skinny jeans that hugged his legs beautifully, and simple sneakers that shined brightly in their new condition.
"Oh, uh, n-no. This seat is free," You stammered as you worked to clear off the space next to you, frantically scraping the remnants of food from the space next to you. You remember the way he chuckled at you as he "helped" in cleaning the small mess of crumbs, swiping his arm across the hard surface and accidentally brushing your arm in the process.
"I'm Haechan," He said as he sat next to you, turning his body to face you completely to give you his full attention, showing off his pearly white teeth as he offered a wonderful smile. You could remember the feeling of butterflies storming into your stomach as it did flips and turns from seeing someone as breath taking as him. Haechan was the kind of person that could steal your breath away in the simplest ways. Even him breathing while emitting tiny sighs caused your throat to dry significantly. He was everything you could've wanted in a man and more.
You remember the first time you two went on an actual date, Haechan being so nervous that he nearly threw up before returning to his seat that night. Haechan wanted everything to go right for your first date: opening the car door, complimenting your appearance every chance he could get, pulling out your chair and pushing it in for you, genuinely listening to the conversation you two held. He worked hard to make sure he could give you the best first date experience you could ever ask for, him knowing how your previous dating experiences have gone.
"What?" You asked bashfully as you hid your face in your hand, taking note of how long Haechan had been staring at you as you ate your main course of the night. Haechan simply shook his head at you, a small smile forming in his lips as he continued to admire you, drinking in your heavenly appearance. Everything about you screamed desire, and he just couldn't get enough of it.
You remember all the other dates you went on, and you even remember the night Haechan asked you to be his girlfriend. Haechan went out of his way to bring you up to his favorite spot in town, holding your favorite ice cream in each of your hands as you two sat on the roof of his car, admiring the sunset. Once Haechan finished his ice cream, he looked at you with such love and admiration that you couldn't help but fall for him.
You remember how easy it was to scream “yes” at the top of your lungs when he asked you to officially be his, sealing the deal with a kiss. The kiss was like heaven on earth as your bodies entwined, his lips tasting faintly of vanilla. Haechan was careful not to push the kiss too far as he held your hips in place, not trying to rush into things since he absolutely adored everything about you and wanted to treasure you for all you were worth to him. Although you admired his caring demeanor, you couldn't help but to allow the sinful thoughts flood your mind as time progressed.
You most definitely remember the first time you two gave in to your desires. Haechan was having a particularly rough day at work so you decided you would make him his favorite dinner, play his favorite music, and listen to him rant all night long. But little did you know that he liked the way you looked in that blouse a little too much as the music continued to play throughout the night to muffle your screams of pleasure.
Haechan relished the feeling of you taking care of him on his horrible day, offering to give him whatever he needed to help him relax. He didn't know you would be so receptive to having sex in this way, thinking you would mush rather plan on something this important, but you felt like two months of dating was enough to finally take that step with him.
You remember how gentle Haechan was with you in the beginning, giving gentle kisses and softly caressing your body. He was definitely a giver as he would dive in between your legs to make you feel good before the painful part happens, giving slow kitten licks to the sensitive skin and looking up to meet your eyes and make sure you were okay. You would nod and reassure him from time to time, begging him to continue his ministrations in between your thighs.
But when it was time for making both of you feel good, gentle was not a word you would've used to describe Haechan. Needy, demanding, and definitely dominating. The soft caresses quickly turned to desperate grips onto your hips as Haechan pushed himself completely into you, throwing his head back in pure ecstasy upon feeling how tight you were for him, even if he had just finished tongue fucking you into a puddle.
You remember the look of hunger in Haechan's eyes as he demanded you look him in the eyes with every thrust of his body, pushing into you at depths you weren't sure were possible. Your hands tugged at the tresses of Haechan's hair as you cried out in pleasure, begging Haechan to never stop as you could feel yourself letting go soon.
"I'm never stopping, you feel so fucking good babygirl," Haechan grunted as he held your hips in place, drawing completely out and ramming back in. Haechan loved the way you felt, clenching harshly around him whenever he was balls deep inside of you, bringing out your animalistic side every time you two had sex. Once he had gotten a taste of you, he would never stop.
You remember when Haechan asked if he could cum inside of you since you were on birth control. It was a conversation that you didn't think would come so soon, but you felt as if you were finally ready to feel every part of Haechan. You never wanted to disappoint the man of your dreams, so you thought it would be okay for him to spill his seed into you after what would easily be considered the best sex you ever had, hands down.
And then you remember the dreadful look on Haechan's face when you told him you were pregnant with his child. He did love you, that part was true. But he was definitely not ready to have a child at the ripe age of 18. He was still in high school, you both were. He didn't have the funds or the time to have a child, even if it was with someone he worshiped.
"You're... You're pregnant?" Haechan asked in pure disbelief as the grip he had on your hands weakened, letting your hands fall as he leaned over and looked at the pregnancy test that mocked his very existence. The two pink lines on the test shine up at Haechan as his hands shook, blinking quickly at the test and thinking that it must be a false positive.
"I've taken three tests, Hyuck. I'm pregnant with your child," You reassured, taking the pregnancy test out of his hand and setting it aside, leaning forward to look at his face. He was completely beside himself as his face remained blank, not knowing what to do as reality was crashing down on him. He was going to be a father whether he was ready for it or not.
You remember the day Haechan walked out of your life, never to be heard from again. That day was the day a part of you died. Haechan didn't come home to you, instead you were met with a text message from Mark explaining what happened. Mark informed you that Haechan couldn't possibly be a father at this age, no matter how much he truly loved you. Haechan was not meant to be a father this young because of how much of his life he would be missing out on. Mark did, however, wish you the best of luck.
You remember how truly in love you were with Haechan, how he claimed to love you with all of his being. But now, you have nothing. The love of your life walked out on you on the premise of him not being ready for a child.
Oh how you remember the nights you spent crying into your pillow until your eyes shut together from how puffy your eyes had become. Your voice had become hoarse from multiple nights spent wailing and screaming at the top of your lungs on how unfair life was. Your stomach had reduced to nothing as you refused to eat anything for weeks on end. The feeling of dread consumed every moment of every waking day the moment Haechan left you.
As you sit on the couch looking at all of the memories of you and Haechan on your phone, you can't help but to let out a few tears. The tears can dry, but the pain will never really go away. You know this. But something else that won't go away is how proud you are of making the decision to keep the only bond you share with Haechan, carefully rubbing the surface of your enlarged stomach and feeling the faint pressure of your unborn child kicking at your stomach.
Sure, you remember all of the great memories that have now caused you a great amount of pain, but now you have am opportunity to create new memories. Memories that will replace the painful ones. Memories you can create when you meet your son for the first time, holding him close. You'll remember his first birthday, his first steps, first words, first day of school... You'll remember it all, keeping the memories close to your heart for the rest of your life. Although it is a shame that Haechan left your life when he did, you can't help but to thank him for allowing you the opportunity to grow as a person. 
And for that, you'll be forever thankful for Lee Donghyuck.
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vgilantee · 5 years ago
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Personal Ghosts || Dick Grayson x Reader (part 7)
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Description: After solving the murder of her little sister at the age of 15, Y/N moved to Bludhaven to leave her Gotham life, and memories of the murder behind. Now a detective of the Bludhaven Police Department, with Dick Grayson as her partner, Y/N thinks that she has escaped her past. But when a toddler gets murdered, Y/N finds out that the murderer has returned and is after revenge on the young cop.
Words: 2.4k
A/N: yikes okay so it has been nearly a year since the last chapter, and I don’t really have any excuses outside of procrastination. Anyway thank you to those who have bared with me. I’ve also change from present tense to past tense, and the “reader” is now a detective. I also nearly replaced the name “James” with the real name of the person I’m based James’ personality off
“I forgot how pretty some of the places in this city are.” You pulled your jacket closer to you trying to fight against some of the wind blowing through Gotham Central Park, cup of cheap coffee held close.
“I’m sure Bludhaven is better.” James nudged you with his elbow and you let out a breathy laugh.
“I mean it’s cleaner but you know what they say,” you paused and throwing your arms out in a sarcastic dramatic fashion, “there’s no place like home.” James turned around, noticing you no longer by his side, and just laughed at you. And seeing him just laughing, carefree and happy, you joined in trying to capture some of his happy bliss. You let yourself laugh and for a brief moment, you forgot why you were home and everything else that was going bad in your life, and just laughed. You were so lost in the pure joy that you don’t notice James had moved closer until he pulled you into his arms and was laughing with you into your ear. 
“I’m glad you’re home. Even if it’s just for a little bit.”
“Alright, alright,” you shoved him off with your shoulder, “enough with the sappy shit, I wanna get one of Donny’s food truck burritos before he runs out of actual burritos.”
--
A day spent laughing, talking about new and old memories, and wandering around what is considered to be the beautiful parts of Gotham, all with the backdrop of cars and the occasional gunshot. As much as you fought against it in the beginning, you were glad that James had forced you out of the house. Working as a detective was stressful enough as it was, but with your father out, stress was at an overwhelming level that you didn’t know it had reached until you were sitting on the roof of James’ apartment building, eating fries and watching the sun set. It was in that moment when you realised that as the city was settling that the weight you had pretended not to carry finally hit you.
And that weight, and realisation, was what left you crying, sobbing really, into the evening air. 
“Hey.” Just as you finished the last couple of fries, James’ voice sounded from behind you. Hastily, you tried wiping the tear tracks off your face, hoping your eyes weren’t too red. Apparently, though, you weren’t quick enough and he saw the frantic wiping as he sat beside you. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” The scratch left in your throat from the crying was clear in your voice, and you realised that even without the red eyes, he would have known. “Okay, no. But hey, a good cry never hurt anyone.” As you spoke, you leaned into him, head on his shoulder. “‘M tired now though.” The sentence ended with a breathy laugh, exhausted and broken. 
“You wanna go inside then.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, head on top of your own. You shook your head in response, wanting to stay out in the cool air, the brief moments that Gotham had before nightlife crawled back out to play. 
“I like the brief moments of peace that Gotham has.” He hummed in response. “Before the gunshots begin again of course.” As if on queue, a distant echo of a gunshot, many blocks away, reached you. 
“It’s gonna get cold soon.” His voice was soft as he reminded you that Gotham temperature drops quickly.
“I wanna wait for the Bat-signal to light up, haven’t seen it in a while.” He hummed again, squeezing your shoulder. 
Once the cloudy sky had been lit up with the bat-signal for the night, James had offered his hand to help you up before you both made it back inside his apartment, splitting ways for the night, where he promised to leave you to tracking down old files on your father for the rest of the week. 
--
Another early morning and another pile of files. Phone pressed to your ear as you called Arkham after waiting hours for the line to open, seeing if you could pick up your father’s files from the time he was there. You were getting to the point where your anger was about to bubble over. 
“The files are classified.” Was the first thing the bored woman on the other side of the phone said. “You can’t just be given files on an escaped prisoner. It’s a GCPD issue now. Ask them.” You argued with her back and forth but she wasn’t having it. On top of the anger growing, the idea of breaking in and stealing the files was becoming rather appealing.
“Fuck it.” Was the last thing you muttered before hanging up on her. “Fucking useless.”
A mug of coffee was silently passed to you by James before he said goodbye, rushing out the apartment door. 
You sipped the coffee as you dialled the number for the GCPD, hoping that they could help and you wouldn’t have to resort to B&E.
“GCDP, how can I help?” A less-bored sounding male spoke.
“Hi, I’m Detective L/N with the Bludhaven PD, I’m working the Dale L/N case. He recently broke out of Arkham and murdered multiple toddlers and their families in Bludhaven?” You tried keeping your voice authoritative, but the previous call had tired you out and gotten on your nerves. “I was wondering if I could visit the station later today and pick up some files that could help with my investigation.”
“Of course. I’ll let the Captain know and put the files aside for you.” You very nearly fist-pumped into the air, glad that it went so smoothly and that maybe, just maybe, you would start actually getting somewhere in the investigation.
“Thank you so much. I’ll be there at around 10.”
“See you then, Detective.”
Throwing back the end of your coffee, you raced to have a shower and get ready. 
--
“Excuse me? I’m Detective L/N. I spoke to someone over the phone earlier today about possibly collecting some files on an open investigation.” You held your badge out to show the young-looking officer sat behind the tall counter.
“Oh yes,” he looked at your badge then up at your face quickly, “that was me. The captain has the files on her desk. Just one minute.” He turned away from you, pressing a number as he picked up the phone. “The Detective from Bludhaven PD is here to see you.” He glanced back at you. “Okay, I’ll send her in.” Placing the phone down, he handed you a visitor pass and pen before turning back to his computer. 
Walking through GCPD again was a strange feeling. The first time you had been there, you were with your mother and were filing the official police report about your sister’s death. The last time was when you were getting reprimanded and thanked for hunting down the evidence to get your father arrested. Between then had been countless visits with your mother, sometimes crying, sometimes not.
It had been years, and despite the fact that you were now in the police force yourself, you felt like a child again. And that was the strange feeling. It was the feeling that even though you had grown up, matured, gotten a career, in the GCPD you still felt like a child.
You only had to knock on the captain’s door twice before she called out for you to enter.
The woman sitting at the desk filled the room with an air of authority that you were used to from your own captain. Her dark hair was pulled tightly back with only a couple of grey strands visible. She gestured with a single finger to sit in one of the dark leather chairs sitting on the opposite side of the desk to herself, not looking up from her computer. You did as she instructed and waited, listening to the rapid clicking of her keyboard. You glanced around her office, out the window, at your phone. Anything to pass the time and keep your eyes off the stack of files and paperwork on her desk.
“So, Detective L/N,” her voice startled you and your eyes darted back from out the window to her stern face. “You are one of the leads on the L/N case in Bludhaven?”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Silently, you hoped that she wouldn’t notice ask about you sharing the same surname. “My partner is still in Bludhaven, but I’m here to see if I can collect any information you have still on file about the case.”
“Of course.” A small smile crosser her face and you couldn’t tell if it was simply polite or if it was something else. “I just have a couple of questions.” That simple sentence told you that, no, the smile wasn’t just to be polite, it was to draw you into a sense of security.
“Anything, Ma’am.” You gave a tight smile back, knowing that she was about to ask, just as your captain did, if you were too personally involved in this case.
“Are you the same Y/N L/N that initially collected the evidence against Dale L/N for murdering his young daughter?” Despite the cold expression she kept, her tone sounded as if she was impressed.
“Yes, I am, Ma’am.” You were only given a nod in response. “Is that a problem?” Shuffling uncomfortably, you watched her sit back in her tall chair as she eyed you.
“No problem, Detective.” Although you tried not to, you eyed her slightly. “I spoke to your captain before you arrived. He doesn’t think you should be working this case, thinks it’s too personal.”
“I know, Ma’am. He told me that himself.” You knew it was bad to interrupt her, but you were still apparently ready to fight after this morning.
“I am aware, Detective. He told me.” Her eyes narrowed at you slightly, warning you. “However, I told him that you are an adult and capable of separating work from personal life. And that you had done this before when you were a child.” While making her mini-speech, she had lent back to rest her elbows on the desk.
“Thank you, Ma’am.” You were thankful that the GCPD captain had vouched for you with your own captain. 
“I was one of the detectives working that case, if you were wondering why I agreed to you taking these files and disagreeing with your captain’s want for you to be off the case.” You felt your eyes widen and your jaw drop slowly. All the captain did in response was let out a small chuckle. “Your evidence helped us close the case. And I would like you to be able to do it again. This time as a cop, not a child.”
“I- uh. Thank you, Captain.” Lifting a hand, she placed it on a 3-inch high pile of paper.
“This is all the files we could pull from the archive that we have here, and this,” she picked up a single piece of paper off the top of the pile, handing it to you “is the form you will need to take into Arkham to go through their archives and to take any files you need.” She then turned her chair slightly and picked up a plastic briefcase from behind her desk. You watched as she placed all the paperwork into the case. 
“Thank you, again, Captain.” You stood, shaking her hand as she passed over the case.
“Not a problem, Detective.” You walked towards the door, case in hand. “Good luck catching your father.” You stuttered to a halt, empty hand halfway to the door handle. You nodded before turning the handle, exiting the office. 
--
Before looking through the files or heading back to James’, you drove to Arkham. The drive led you through to the outskirts of Gotham, where the trees were dying and the buildings empty. All of Gotham was dangerous, but living within two blocks of the asylum was suicidal, signing your own death certificate.
But when you finally arrived, after five or six security checks, you made it to the front desk of Arkham.
“Excuse me?” The woman who had previously been facing away slowly turned in her chair to face you through the glass screen.
“Yes.” Even though her voice was no longer through a phone, the drawl was the same. Your fists flexed open and closed as you tried keeping the anger at this woman held down.
“I’m Detective L/N with the Bludhaven PD.” 
“Yeah, I remember you.” Her eyes rolled, which caused you to pull the folded page from your pocket and slam it onto the counter.
“Captain Carter from the GCPD gave me this form. She said that it gives me the legal permission to look through all your archives to find and take copies of  the files I need for an on-going investigation.” She didn’t bother to look at you as she took the paper off the counter, reading through it. 
“Please wait here.” Then she got up and left you standing. You stood, waiting for a few minutes, listening to the occasional crazed laughter or hazy screams that made it through the thick walls and long hallways of the asylum. This was one of the places in Gotham you had never visited. You never had reason to, and Arkham asylum was not a place visited for fun.
When she finally returned, a guard walked through the metal door to the right of the admin desk. 
“This way, please, Detective.” Not once were you asked for your badge, or to hand over your gun or your phone. The only real security was the many doors that needed unlocking from the guard. 
The hallways were laid out like a grid, and you were only taken through ones that skirted around the edges of the main building. When you finally stopped at a proper door and not a gate, you had been walking for over half an hour. The guard unlocked the door and opened it for you, handing you a walkie.
“Use this to let me know when you have found what you need. I will come to collect you and walk you out. There is a copier on the wall on the left, feel free to make copies of whatever you need. There is some new and blank USB’s in the top drawer below the computer beside the copier.” He then nodded and pulled the door shut, locking it. You turned and sighed, preparing you for the long search ahead.
--
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Text
Girls Talk Boys (part 1)
Camille and Cher meet their new neighbors
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This started as kind of a joke. That's why there are so many guys in it. I now have like eight parts to it so what the hell. First time writing anything like this. Let me know if you like it.
Warnings: there will be mentions of drinking and smoking, lots of cursing and eventually it gets dirty.
The heat slapped her in the face as she stepped out of her truck. Ok so maybe packing up your entire life and moving across country in July wasn't her best idea, but Camille desperately needed a fresh start. Landing a new job on the west coast couldn't have come at a better time.  She readjusted her hair back into a bun and took a minute to survey their new home in the gated condominium complex Jacaranda Garden Estates. Sure it sounded like a seniors golf retreat but was known for being an eccentric community full of artistic types with a little money.  A sports blog wasn't exactly considered the arts but Camille wasn't alone in this.
Her bff/”little sister” Cher was in on the adventure. Cher was a brilliant artist and had been the one to convince Camille to go for it.   Cher’s childhood bestie Cody already lived at the Jacaranda. It was Cody and his boyfriend Nick that helped get them approved by the committee.
Wandering through the downstairs through the kitchen stepping off the back patio Camille could see several of her new neighbors enjoying the summer day. The pool area was teeming with guys with tattoos, muscles and low slung shorts and impossibly tall slim beautiful women. Several people were glancing her way making Camille wish she'd put some effort into her appearance today. Cher took that moment to appear at her side in a literal puff of smoke finishing off the last of a joint.
“ FINALLY Took you bitches long enough” Cody, as loud and dramatic as he was tall ran over to wrapping them both up in a hug. “Codyeeeeeee” Cher squealed giving him a giant smacking kiss on the cheek. Releasing them Cody lifted Camille’s hand to his lips “Greetings your grace” he murmured with a cheeky grin.  Cody hadn’t seen them in ages. The two of them made an interesting combo. Cher being the more relaxed and cheerful but at the same time a bit dreamy and ditzy. Her long dark hair, habit of favouring sundresses and going barefoot she looked much more innocent than she actually was. Also being the taller and younger Cher both looked up to and down at Camille. Camille was barbed wire wrapped in cotton candy with her signature pink hair, pink clothes and cats eye glasses she looked like a harmless ball of fluff, but in reality nothing escaped her eyes or her sharp toungue.  She could be sarcastic, funny, silly and mean. Most people adored Cher right off while Camille took some getting used to.
”“So where is this famous boyfriend we've been hearing so much about with his sexy  bod” Camille teased. Cody booped her on the nose “play nice Duchess.” Camille grinned “I always play nice, but I CAN play can't I” she questioned glancing at the pool area where now most people were watching their small group. Cody followed her line of sight and saw several guys starting to head their way. He was not surprised to see Ashton leading the pack. He’d been pestering Cody for weeks about the new girls. Luke and Calum, Ashton’s bandmates were close behind.
“You must be Cody’s friends. Would you ladies like some help?” Camille was surprised at the accent that accompanied the question. Turning she found herself face to face with a hazel eyed devilishly handsome male. “We probably could get it but if you guys would like to help that would be awesome thank you” Cher answered beaming at the sandy haired stranger.  Camille just looked at him and asked “where are you from? Australia?” He nodded “I'm Ashton, this is Calum and Luke” pointing behind him at his two taller yet equally ridiculously good looking friends
, one blonde and angelic the other dark and exotic.  “I’m Camille and this is Cher.” By this time two more very attractive guys had shown up. Harry who was lanky and covered in tattoos. Tom who was shorter and younger looking than the others but stronger than he looked.
Camille was more than happy to let the guys do most of the heavy lifting. With the guys help it took no time to unload the truck. They managed to get the living room set up and afterwards the three friends insisted on treating the guys to dinner afterwards   Camille took care of the food. Cody and Cher set up beer and shots of fireball. Once the booze started flowing so did the questions. The Aussies were in a band together. Tom was an actor/dancer/stuntman filming a top secret project hoping. Harry had turned success with a British boy band into a lucrative U.S. TV career as a judge on a top rated talent show. Both girls were a bit star struck but Camille was better at hiding it. From the kitchen she could see Cher rummaging through a bag and retrieving her sketchbook. Opening it the guys were completely taken aback as the sweet hippie girl revealed she makes a living drawing monsters  
Cher always got a kick out of showing people her creations for the first time. What began as childhood therapy had earned her a decent living. Three years ago she'd created Vexxed for a graphic novel. That got developed into a video game that had been a major success. Camille had helped her work out a contract for Vexxed related merchandise so Cher had a decent source of regular income. This allowed her to focus on her art and her hobby of being a foot model. “A foot model? Like for shoes? How does that work?” Harry spoke up and Cher melted a little at his British accent. She immediately blushed knowing this was about to get personal. “Um well not for shoes more like taking pictures for people who really like feet” she could feel her cheeks burning but she held her head up to show she was feeling nervous not ashamed.
Camille came back into the living room bringing fresh beers for Ashton, Calum and Tom with the bottle of whiskey in the other hand. She was paying attention to Cher who now had Harry and Ashton looking at her feet and peppering her with questions. She didn't see the extension cord and tripped. Just as she was about to go flying there was a sudden movement at her side. One strong arm wrapped around her waist steadying her while his free hand grabbed the beers out of her grasp. “Careful now hate to waste alcohol” he chuckled in her ear. She looked up to find Calum smiling down at her. “That would've been tragic. Thank you” she replied cursing the universe that the sexiest man she'd ever seen was the one guy in the room with a long time girlfriend. His dark eyes, his strong biceps decorated with tattoos, his lips, those HANDS, Camille tried not to stare certain he could hear the sploosh. She glanced over and saw Cody flash her an evil grin. Suddenly she realized everyone was looking at her. Ashton was asking her a question. “I'm sorry what was that” Camille came back to reality. Ashton grinned at her “So what do you do for a living are you as interesting as your friend here? Tell me you're a dominatrix….Mistress Pink Hair” Cher and Camille locked eyes and burst out laughing. “Call me Pinkstress Cammy” Camille jokes. Luke suddenly sat up straight his eyes wide as he asked “You're not really are you?”  Camille was still laughing “No definitely not but we do know one, and no Ashton I'm not nearly as interesting. I'm a freelance writer but I have a full time gig as a feature on profantasysports.com”
It took everything Cher had not to start laughing again as she watched the boys react. Tom was the first to speak “wait hold on you write for profantasysports?” He looked puzzled for a second. “About fantasy football? Hold on you're...are you Smashmouth Cam?” Camille nodded and Tom looked impressed. Luke spoke up “so you must know a lot about sports for a girl”
Calum was sitting on the arm of the chair and Cher couldn't help but noticed he rolled his eyes at Luke at the same time Camille narrowed hers. Cher knew how much Camille hated that “for a girl” nonsense, and was impressed at how light her response came out. “No sweetie” she breezed back “I know a lot about sports.”
“Maybe you could help me win some money” Harry said with a cheeky grin “is it just American football?” Camille just nodded “no premier league yet sorry.”
Ashton grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table in front of her. “We're gonna play a game” he announced looking back at Cher before staring down at the girl in pink. Camille glanced around the room. A fourth Aussie, Michael had shown up with his lovely girlfriend.  Cody’s boyfriend Nick had arrived with a nice fat bag and the two of them were rolling two massive blunts. She was a little nervous about potentially getting wasted in front of her handsome neighbors, but she and Cher could drink with the best of them. Besides Cody and Nick wouldn't let anything bad happen. Finally she met the pair of hazel eyes challenging her. “Fine by me” Camille heard herself say “but I'm not drinking that kids stuff, I've got a bottle of Goldschlager in one of these boxes.” “It's in the freezer” Cher told her “and shot glasses are in the box with the blue tape marked emergency drinking supplies.” Camille got up and Calum did as well offering to help. The girls locked eyes for a second. “Are you sure?” Cher’s eyes seemed to ask. Camille wasn't sure at all. This could get messy.  Ripping open the box she found Cher’s Pisces shot glass and her House Targaryen one before selecting some for the guys. Handing Calum the bottle she caught his smile and thought “Fuck it I'm damned if I do, bored if I don't.”
Chapter 2 Heart To Break
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elizaviento · 6 years ago
Text
Assimilation (part 15/23)
SFW -- 2400 words
(FYI: Additional chapters of Assimilation can be found in the Rick Fic Masterpost link in my blog description.  Or, you can click the #assimilation tag in this post, within my blog, to access all additional chapters.)
*****
Waking up in Rick’s room for the second time was just as disorientating as the first; especially considering that it contained no windows or a clock.  Rick was gone again, which wasn’t a shock.  I had wondered many times if the man ever actually slept at all.  The thought occurred to me that I could just lay here dozing until he returned, although it could be awkward if he expected me to be long gone when he did.  Honestly, I had no way of knowing how he would react.  He was the most unpredictable person I’d ever met or ever would meet.  
I’d always had a saying  “You never truly know someone until you hear how they moan during sex.”  So far, Rick Sanchez was the only exception I had encountered. Everything about his exterior was gruff and unyielding.  Every now and then, there would be a glimmer of something a bit softer, but only in specific situations and only with specific people.  I had been lucky enough to be one of those specific people, mostly due to my association with Beth.  I was so young when I first met him that he probably lumped me in the ‘daughter’ category of his head space and treated me as such – until recently.  But, the way Rick behaved with intimate partners, at least in my short personal experience, was much different.  His gruff exterior was still absolute but the tenderness he hid underneath was surprising.  And, his penchant for praise was something I never could have expected in a million years.
My cheeks began to burn at the memories of said praise; whispers of ‘good girl’ making me feel swollen and needy.  I had to admit that one of the main reasons I found myself so hot for Rick was due to his perceived position as an authority figure in my life.  My school girl crush on him was definitely fueled by such; along with the small aspect of taboo associated with him being the father of my best friend.  
God, I was so fucked up.  What on earth would Beth do if she found out?  What would Jerry do?  How would the kids react?  
Nope.  I couldn’t think about that now.
Since I was completely unaware of what time it was, I tentatively poked my head outside his bedroom door.  It was still daylight, so that was good.  I didn’t hear anyone else in the house either and that was very good.  So, I made my way to my room to fetch my laptop.  I really needed to buckle down and get this project rolling again, especially since I hadn’t even checked my email since Friday.  
Finally reading through my email was painful.  An old friend of mine had contracted me to draw up the architectural plans for a new house he intended to build in the country.  The last time we’d spoken was over a week ago and I now had several emails from him.  He wasn’t used to radio silence from me so his last email simply read, “Are you okay?”  The last thing I wanted was to lose this contract (and a good friend in the process) so I decided the best course of action was to call him and explain that I’d been sick with the flu.  Luckily, I was able to get in touch with him right away and he agreed to meet with me that evening to go over what I had completed thus far.  So, I made a few finishing touches and sent the draft to the local printer.
As I was getting ready, excitement began to bubble up within me.  I hadn’t seen Trevor since Chris died and it would be wonderful to catch up with him again.  He and I had always existed on the same wave length and we both had a very bizarre sense of humor.  I’d asked him to meet me at one of the classier bar/restaurants in town so I had to look somewhat presentable.  I also hadn’t had the opportunity to ‘dress up’ since moving back, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to put in a little effort, if only to feel like a human female for a few hours.  I had the perfect dress in mind; something professional but also classically cute – sleeveless and black with a flowing skirt that hit just above the knee.  I finally found the dress after looking through nearly every trash bag I had hurriedly stuffed full of clothes when I moved, but I also had to dig out my flat iron and most of my make up – making me realize how unconcerned I had been about my appearance for the last month.  On one hand, it was incredibly freeing.  On the other, it was a bit depressing.  I’d also forgotten the effort involved with styling my hair and applying perfect wingtip eyeliner.  In the end, however, I was rewarded with a semi attractive, confident looking woman.
Checking the clock, I noticed I had just enough time to swing by the printer to pick up my drafts before heading to the restaurant.  No one was home yet, so I scribbled a quick note and tacked it to the fridge explaining that I’d be back later and rushed out the door.  Walking down the driveway to get to my car parked on the street, I noticed that the garage door was open.  Taking a closer look, I saw Rick standing at the metal shelves, digging through one of the many boxes.  I hadn’t even realized he was here, so I made my way to the garage, if only to show off my polished look.  I was sidetracked, though, when my phone chirped with a message from Trevor.  He was on his way to the restaurant and he couldn’t wait to see me.  Now feeling rushed, I glanced up to see Rick staring at me with slack jawed expression that made me grin ear to ear.  Giving him a quick wave, I made sure to put a little swing in my hips as I strolled to my car.
----------
Trevor didn’t burden me with small talk and pleasantries.  He and I were like peas in a pod, so he knew to get down to business right off and then smoothly transition into our comfortable banter afterward.  He told me how good I looked and asked how I was, but it was genuine.  I thanked him and confessed that things had been hard for a while but were finally getting better.  We drank cocktails and ate way too much food and were generally having a wonderful time when my phone chirped.  I ignored it at first, figuring it was Jerry or Beth asking if I’d be home for dinner.  Then it chirped again.  And, again.  Finally plucking it from my purse with a sigh, I took a quick glance at the screen just to make sure it wasn’t something important.  The message previews I saw on the lock screen were confusing, so I unlocked it to read them in their entirety.
 Rick:  So how’s your boyfriend?
Rick:  He looks like a doofus.
Rick:  He can’t be THAT funny.
 I quickly scanned the dimly lit restaurant and didn’t spot him.  Then, I glanced toward the bar and there he sat, at the furthest end from our table with a glass of something brown.  I was completely taken aback.  Had he really followed me here?  Looking at the messages again, I was convinced that I’d somehow misread them.  
“Something wrong?” Trevor asked, pulling my eyes from my phone.
“Oh, sorry.  No, I just got a text from my brother.  What were you saying?“
I tried to pay attention.  Sincerely, I did.  But, Rick was relentless.  I flipped the ringer off on my phone but I could feel it vibrate on my lap in steady intervals.
 Rick:  He thinks he’s getting his dick sucked.
Rick:  I bet his nuts smell like cottage cheese.
Rick:  Does he know you like ‘em swaggly?
 And on and on and on…
I couldn’t stop myself from snickering at some them which only upset me.  What the fuck was going on here?  Suddenly, I knew the response that would shut him down –
 Me:  Jealous?
 When I glanced his way and caught him scowling into his glass, I knew I was right.  I didn’t receive another text from him, but he didn’t leave the bar either, which made me nervous.  Trevor continued to talk and I’d insert the appropriate audio cues and giggle every now and then to give the impression I was listening.  When the check finally arrived, I sighed in relief and snatch it up before Trevor could even blink.
“No!” he attempted to protest.
“I can write this off as a business expense,” I explained, throwing down my debit card and glancing back at the bar once more.  Rick was gone and I felt my heart begin to race with anxiety.  I checked my phone again – nothing new – and froze when I felt a weight settle on the booth next to me.
“Heyyy, babe.  Who – who’s your little friend?”
I gawked at Trevor from across the table, my eyes wide with shock, as an arm slithered around my shoulders.  I actually couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Hi, I’m Trevor,” he said, extending a hand toward Rick from across the table.
“Rick Sanchez,” he replied, not taking Trevor’s offered hand but, instead, pulling me closer.
Trevor shot me a ‘what the fuck?’ expression and all I could do was shrug in response.  I was absolutely speechless.  Nothing could have ever prepared me for this moment.  But, when Rick placed his hand on my knee and began gliding it up my thigh, I found my voice.
“Trevor and I were just going over the architectural plans I drew for his house,” I offered, lifting my portfolio from the booth on the opposite side of me and placing it on the table.  I turned to look Rick straight in the eye and resisted the urge to flinch back when I saw that his face was mere inches from my own.
“So, are you two… um…” Trevor began.
“Fuckin’?  Yeah, man.  Oh, yeah – all the way.  She – uh – she’s wild, too.”
Trevor’s expression was priceless and I fought the urge to scream with laughter.  I was going to kill Rick.  He was going to die tonight.
“I-I-I mean, not like you’d know.  Or – or anything.  Nah – she’s wayyy too hot – too fine.”
This time I did laugh.  This was fucking unbelievable.
Trevor, now obviously fed up, began to gather his things to leave.  Rick had me cornered in the booth, so I reached across the table to grab his arm.  
“Don’t forget the drawings,” I said, taking them from my portfolio.  “Please, look them over again and get back to me with the changes, okay?”
I really need to salvage this contract.  Chris’s survivor benefits and pension and my savings would only get me so far.  I needed a steady stream of income and this contract was the first step to establishing a client base large enough that I wouldn’t need to return to my old firm.  Trevor was a well respected doctor and knew plenty of other people with disposable cash who wanted to build high priced homes.
“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, taking the drawings.  “I’ll email you.”
“Don’t l-let the door hit ya on the way out,” Rick said, giving him a salute.  
As soon as Trevor was out of sight, I groaned and covered my face as Rick’s arm retreated from my shoulder.
“Why?” I asked, my voice muffled behind my hands.
He didn’t reply.  He did, however, order us both a scotch on the rocks as the waitress came by to pick up the check.  When the drinks were delivered, I downed mine in one shot and then took his and did the same.  From the corner of my eye, I saw him pull his flask from his lab coat.
I didn’t know what to do; didn’t know how to feel.  Should I be angry?  Humiliated? Flattered?  The truth is, I was all three.
Turing toward Rick again, I noticed he was hunched with his elbows on the table and a slight pink tinge to cheeks.  He appeared just as flabbergasted as I, no doubt, did and I suddenly felt bad for him.  He had completely misinterpreted the situation and acted like a jealous teenager.
Rick Sanchez.  Jealous.
I started giggling, as I always did when feeling awkward.
“What – w-what‘s so fuckin’ funny?” he asked, sounding like a sourpuss.  I giggled harder.
“You really think I’m fine?” I asked, shifting my upper body to fully face him in the booth.
“Shut up.”
“Seriously, though.  What the hell was that?”
Again, no response.  He knew that I knew.  The waitress dropped off my debit card and receipt at the far end of the table.
“By the way –” I said, reaching across him to fetch my card while making sure to press my tits against his arm in the process, “– Trevor is totally gay.”
 To be continued…
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thedreaminus · 6 years ago
Text
Rebels
ff.net | A03
Summary: When the Union gets problems in its own ranks. A Noblesse AU about the Trio.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
“I'm sorry! Whispered Tao near him in a feverish tone. M-21 grunted in response, clenching his fist even tighter, trying desperately to distract himself from the hundreds of fine cables Tao had sent to examine his arm. It was certainly not the most painful thing that ever happened to him in life, but also not the most pleasant. The current situation was very similar to the moment when M-21 had hid the children and Tao had manipulated all the data on the chip. At that time, however, it had been only his arm and not nearly the entire side of the body. Back then his recovery was also not so fucking good that the skin closed over the cables before they were actually where Tao wanted them to be.
On the other side, Takeo had settled cross-legged. He held up a lamp so Tao could better assess where he was at the moment and intervene in case of emergency if M-21 moved too violently. Neither looked happier than M-21 felt. The gray-haired man suppressed a groan as Tao drilled the fine strand deeper and deeper into his flesh. He did not want the hacker to hesitate, they had already gone too far. Behind them were weeks of hard work, days when they had not exchanged a word or even saw each other. Hours at which they could only exchange a quick glance between cables and sheet metal, and then again hours when they were just sitting together in their room, brooding over plans.
His position within the Union could prove to be their key to the greatest damage they could inflict upon their hated creators. All baits of the Union primarily served as a distraction and as an infantry on simple orders. Their secondary purpose was to gather as much data about opponents as possible, including their attack strength, the choice of weapons, combat power, numbers, movements and patrol patterns. In addition to the usual infected people, modified cyborgs and discarded experimental material were also put to this role.
Infected people were the most popular. They could be created quickly, without much effort, and always obeyed. Cyborgs were often more costly in their creation and far stronger. They were gladly used when it came to tackling stronger than ordinary opponents and enemies who were to be killed or taken prisoner. Experimental material, like M-21 and his comrades, were actually considered useless. Weak and usually unable to survive long without medication, being a bait was one of the quickest ways to get rid of and gain some benefit out of them at the same time.
And from this, they now wanted to draw benefit themselves. Like all baits, M-21 was equipped with various microchips that collected and transmitted data. This included a special device, designed to quickly dispose of unpopular baits when problems arise. Tao was trying to find exactly this device. Apparently most of the baits died out of nowhere and that had to have happened with a remote control, which may even be linked to each other via a network. If anything could hurt the Union, it would be the loss of their army, all at once.
If Tao managed to find something... M-21 suppressed the reflexive twitch of his muscles. He was getting tired and they could tell he increasingly controlled himself not to move. They had begun in the morning, after days of discussion. Tao and Takeo did not like the idea of exploring the possibility of a chip in his body, in order to switch off maybe all baits at once. If M-21's theory proved correct and they found a way to make it happen, M-21 would die too. The gray-haired man had found the discussion quite unnecessary and quickly made it clear to the other two that they would all die soon anyway, in what way was probably of secondary importance.
"Ok ... ok," Tao murmured, "I think I'm almost done."
M-21 briefly opened one of his eyes to wink at him and then closed it again. He did not dare to talk while the right half of his torso was completely pierced by his cables, that turned his muscles, tendons, bones and sat directly on his marrow. It did not feel very comfortable and Tao had told him not to talk or even move. The danger that something will be damaged was too big.
He heard Tao make a relieved sound as he put everything where he wanted it. The hacker would have much preferred to read out the needed information about all implants from their collected Union data. But some data, including that of Crombel, was yet to be found. In addition, it quickly turned out that it was not as safe to access the data as they had thought. The head of the Union himself spied on its members and they had to be careful not to be caught by other users while rummaging through the database.
"Here we go." The click of keyboard and mouse filled the room. Tao sent small amounts of power through the cables to detect hidden chips. The electric shock was weak and yet painful enough that M-21 had to clench his teeth. Hopefully, Tao would find something soon. He did not feel like doing it on the other side and who could say if they would even be able to stay undisturbed for so much time. Takeo held him precautionarily by the shoulders as his silent comrade worked, searching and gradually removing strands that turned out to be useless. Finally, there were two points left, one for the chip in the arm and another right in the neck.
"I have it - I think." Tao made some strange noises. "Takeo hold his head tight," M-21 sighed deeply as Takeo did as he was told. Tao let Takeo lift his head and turn it carefully back and forth so he could better hit the chip that was sitting right in his neck.
"Well, actually, that's very logical," Tao explained as he analyzed the chip. "The chip sits directly against your backbone and is strong enough to roast your entire nervous system or trigger a shock or brain hemorrhage."
"An explosive charge?" Takeo asked.
"Hm, so to speak. The chip sits between the third and fourth cervical vertebrae, directly at the nerve node. The explosive charge on it is not even as big as my fingernail and would still kill you because it blows up so concentrated." Tao clicked his tongue, "Or maybe you would survive that? Baits within the Union do not actually have your regeneration."
"Lucky me," M-21 pressed out and then closed his mouth again.
Attempting to diminish his further mutation through food deprivation had been more or less successful. Until Takeo had finally knocked him one over with his gun barrel and made it clear that none of them would benefit if he was too weak. That and another punch coupled with the words, "I know you're rolling your eyes now," had also ended this discussion quickly.
Tao only needed a few minutes to fully analyze the chip. As they had suspected, the explosive charge could actually be controlled remotely via satellite reception. The permissions were another thing. For one, they were spread across the various labs. On the other hand, the head of the Union had far-reaching rights.
"That only benefits us," Tao gave thoughtfully, "I can introduce myself into the authorization and give me far-reaching user rights. When the time comes, I will start a countdown and tada!" The hacker jerked his arms up to demonstrate the explosion. The shock and the resulting pain caused M-21 to moan.
“Sorry M!“
"Just finish this," the gray-haired man gasped. After all, the worst was still ahead of him. Tao looked at him worriedly and moved a little closer.
"You still do not want anesthesia?"
"We’ve talked about this before Tao," Takeo intervened and took advantage of the brief pause to dribble some water into M-21‘s mouth and wipe away the blood. "We do not have an anesthetic that is strong enough and it's too dangerous to experiment with the means available to us."
"Yeah," Tao gnawed on his lower lip "Only ... I," he sighed, "I'll hurry."
"Please do." Growled M-21 sarcastically, whereupon Tao returned nothing. The hacker focused on his work again, struggling to finish it as quickly as possible without damaging too much. M-21's pain level doubled again. The gray-haired man gritted his teeth and clenched his fists to endure the pain.
The final piece yet.
After him, the other two were on the line.
-.-.-.-
"Test, One, Two, Three. Do you hear me Takeo?"
"Roger."
"M-21."
"Ro ..."
"Peter Piper picked a pack of pepper. Where's the pack of pepper Peter Piper... ah damn!"
"..."
"..."
"Could you understand me, M-21?"
"..."
"M?"
M-21 sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, determined not to respond to Tao's stupid shuddering rhyme, to continue concentrating on his task and watching the deep black night. Ignoring Tao's whimpering in his ear. With his improved recovery, his senses had generally improved. Or at least M-21 felt that way. Of course, every little change that befell him or one of the other two, was recorded. They kept a journal. It gave them the feeling of a little bit control, without them really having control.
Control, though deceptive, gave them confidence that the plan could work. In the last few days they had buried themselves deep in the borrowed Union data. Thanks to the used, designed by Tao, microchip it was easy to communicate with each other without the Union getting wind of it. The chip, no bigger than a fingernail, had some other useful features. But for them it was important to be able to talk. To talk freely to each other, without fear and only with little effort and caution. Whenever one of them had time and was left unattended, he let the others know about the data. This is how they got to know the world outside the Union.
They got to know the reality.
Nobles. They were called Nobles, not Noblesse. This race, which existed from time immemorial, was so much more complex than what the Union had represented. They did not have much in common with vampires, but they were not perfect either. After all, some of them were inside the Union, even at the highest level. An almost human weakness of such an old race, made the Nobles in their eyes … less different. Nobles were not gods, were not perfect, but a folk with mistakes like humans.
However, why the Union pounded on the term >> Noblesse << remained a mystery to them. Tao rummaged for days through the data without a specific hint. With more time they would probably find out. But time was a rare commodity of which they had too little.
Every passing day the Union was not stopped was a further opportunity for those bastards to beat their claws into the world. Civil wars, abductions, murder, corruption, experiments and so much more. It made M-21 sick just thinking about it. Laughing that the Union once called itself the protector of humanity. Did the people who worked for these bastards really help people with their actions? How did these people justify what they were doing? How did they justify what had been done to his comrades?
"Earth to M!"
He awoke from his reflections and reflexively put his hand on his ear only to take it away again. The implant was under his skin and could not be removed. In some ways a disadvantage. "What?"
"You'll be there soon, stop," Tao said lightly, ignoring the irritation in M-21's voice.
The man stopped. In a few minutes he would reach the remnants of the abandoned lab. The ruin he had already visited twice. He could not see his destination yet, but that did not mean anything. As a modified human, a few miles were nothing.
"Takeo," Tao gave the instruction with the still loose tone.
"I'm in position," the sniper answers calmly. "I see a person. A child. White hair."
"This will be the baby," muttered M-21 and started to move again.
"Wait. I just saw something," Takeo took a long break. "Two more people. Grown up. Blond. About the same distance as M, west of the target."
Blond? M-21 frowned and took cover as a precautionary measure. None of them could say how far the perception of a Nobles was, if the Nobles even had to see to know where you were, M-21 considered annoyed. Also …. Blond? It was dangerous enough to meet a single Noble who was still a child whose life he had practically saved. But with two adults? Were they really Noble? He passed the question on to Takeo.
The sniper took his time to answer, M-21 heard him adjust his weapon to get a better look. "The distance is too big," finally came the answer "I can not confirm it."
"Hm, an ambush?" Tao mused. "Is the child looking in his direction?"
"Negative."
"There is a possibility that the boy will be covered as we cover M-21 or spied on. The point is too close to the outer sphere of influence of the Union that I would tap on second."
"Hmph, there is no point in speculating." M-21 shifted his weight and narrowed his lower lip, trying to find the best possible solution.
"Takeo, do you see a way to the target that is covered?" Tao asked his comrade.
"Yes, but that only gives him privacy screen," Takeo muttered.
"I can go."
"That's ..."
"We do not know when the half pint will re-emerge," M-21 said irritably. "Takeo should cover me and keep me informed about the two unknown individuals."
"You will turn back immediately if we tell you to," Tao demanded of him.
M-21 gave his consent and got moving again. He did not need to reach the ruins, although he kept using Takeo help to chose a cover way. Shortly before the end he had to cross an open area, whereupon Takeo told him, tensed, that they had probably seen him.
"You have two minutes," Tao stated. "It does not matter if the boy understood you or not. Give him the USB and go."
"Oi, brat!" M-21 snapped unnecessarily, the boy had already noticed him. Nevertheless, his groomed mind contorted to an angry frown and with one leap the Noble was close to him. Through the view of the half collapsed wall, M-21 allowed himself a brief smirk, which obviously made his counterpart even more upset.
"How dare you? I'm older by a hundred years ... "
"Cut the bullshit," M-21 interrupted him indignantly. He had listened to the self-righteous speeches of the dwarf at the last meeting. Sure, Takeo was right about what he said. The Nobles had to hate the Union. This boy had every reason to hate him, but that did not change the words that burned into his mind, and he would hate to hear them again and again mentally.
Modified human. Traitors to your own race. Killer. Hypocrite. Liar.
M-21 told himself that this child could not have known and had no idea. Nevertheless, there was always a remainder of doubt. These words sparked a small voice in his head. How innocent was he? He had murdered, often and without hesitation. Had gotten used to it and dulled off. He had no choice if he had wanted his comrades to survive and he had stopped questioning his actions. M-21 did not know who he was before the Union and the sheer possibility that he might have volunteered once ...
"Shut. The. Fuck. Up," crunched the gray-haired man and clenched his fist unconsciously. "Just shut up and listen. Even you should manage this. I have information about another lab, which is run by the 9th and 13th," here M-21 took a short break. "The name of the 13th Elder is Ignes Kravei." He heard the noble gasping for breath and saw his eyes widen. So he knew the name.
"Ignes Kravei experiments with Nobles," he explained, watching as the boy's facial features began to derail more and more. "Maybe you will find what you are looking for in here." M-21 threw the USB to the half pint and watched him catch it despite his confusion. "See that you don‘t act like a big idiot and take someone along. If it is really embarrassing for you, remember a human scum could save your dwarf ass again." He could not resist the last remark.
"They have started moving." Takeo's warning tore M-21 out of his little treat.
"M!"
The gray-haired man backed away, turned on his heel and hastened to create distance between himself and the Noble. He could still hear the boy gasping for breath, in the equally surprised and shamed tone of voice saying, "Sir Ragar!" That sounded like someone he knew, so no Union agends. M-21 slowed his pace, listened intently for signs of any pursuer. Halfway through, Takeo emerged from the shadows and joined him. Together they sprinted through the forest, with all the senses straining for pursuers until they were close to the base.
“Takeo?“
"They are not following us." The man turned his head once in each direction. M-21 was silent. They had delivered their message. Whether the Nobles will believe them or not, they could only guess.
-.-.-.-
"Well, that was not all that bad," laughed Tao as they all met again in their retreat. The hacker clapped his hands and bobbed his chair in excitement as soon as they entered the room. "The 13th Elder's lab is one of the biggest! Mainly involved in the creation of new anti-noble weapons! It will really, really hurt!" The hacker folded his hands in a melodramatic gesture.
Takeo shook his head with a mild smile and went to clean his gun. M-21 sat down on a bed - he always stole one of the two - leaned back and watched as Tao continued to bounce up and down in front of Takeo. The hacker had dark circles under his eyes, more clearly visible through the pale neon light. To be fair, M-21 had to confess that he and Takeo did not look much better.
He absently touched his neck with his hand and traced the thin cables that moved from there to his ear with his fingers. It had not been pleasant, but it had paid off. The chip, the communication system developed by Tao. They had pushed their plan so far ...
"M-21?"
The gray eyes flicked aside. Tao and Takeo looked at him expectantly, almost inviting. Each step that brought them closer to their goal was a success and at the same time their end. Because the end of the Union would be theirs too. There was no prospect he was afraid of. M-21 took his hand away from the barely perceptible ridge under his skin and carefully sorted his thoughts.
"It's nothing," he mumbled, leaning back and closing his eyes, "Nothing at all." M-24 took his will to survive along with him to his death. He was not afraid of it and did not see any point in clinging to a life other than looking for the name of his comrades, at least to keep that promise. Perhaps his pride played a minor role, but the conversation with half pint alone had shown him what kind of life a modified human could expect outside of the Union.
In comparison, Tao clung to his life and M-21 envied him, his ability to leave the past behind and to move forward. All exploration and understanding everything. Even under the aspect that the Union modified him, his thirst for knowledge was enormous. As for Takeo, he was far too kindhearted for M-21's taste to survive within the Union. Maybe also the reason why Teira existed.
Tomorrow he would leave for the lab that they had just revealed. Officially, to deliver hardware and software that Tao had developed on behalf of that lab. He would deliver the package, install it and accidently would infect the entire system with a virus.
Their specially designed separate server system was ready, regularly fed, maintained with data, and well hidden enough that the Union would (hopefully) never find. They had installed technical traps, such as the extinction of all baits, but also the manipulation of funds for experiments. As soon as the right time came, all this, together with the Union's communication system, would break up. As large as their data access had been, they still did not have everything, but they could not wait any longer. The Union was preparing for a final strike. The lab hummed to develop new weapons. They did not have the time to wait for the rest of the data.
They always lacked time.
Therefore, they decided to divulge the location of another laboratory. A larger one where experiments could no longer be delayed by manipulating deliveries and remittances. The 13th Elder was too dangerous and what worked was even more dangerous.
They had to act. So they would gradually give away locations, while still trying to gather as much information and get involved in the server system. To the point where the Union would understand what was going on.
Of course, these bastards were no fools.
Yeah, I know what you all thinking through. But I am not a zombie! Honestly. Why I did not report so long? Let's say lots of stress + a broken hard drive = a lot of demotivation. But I did not give up and just rewrote everything … T.T. Hope you like it.
PS: Thank you @pandora-twists for your patience, help and ... cuteness
(づ ̄ ³ ̄)づ
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