#ah his nose was broken when he was much younger [many many years ago] so it's got a little bump

[80s4life]

Little Dove*

Word Count: 3,949

Status: Not Requested!

A/N: Had a thought lol

Fandom: Karate Kid 1985

Relationship: John Kreese x Student!Female Reader

Summary: You had stayed around throughout all of his bullshit. Throughout the beginning of a forever-long battle with Daniel LaRusso, throughout losing all of his Cobra Kais, going through crippling debt, and now, more than ever, as he tries to put himself together. You’ve been there, the whole time. So why is it, that when a random man from his past appears, all of his problems are fixed without a glance your way? What does this Terry Silver have that you don’t (besides endless money and a history)? It’s unfair. It’s selfish. It’s Kreese.

Taglist: @intersellars-the-alien-of-human @snapessecretdiary

Warnings: smut, teasing, jealousy, age-gap paring, language, Terry being an overprotective cockblock, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slight dubcon, daddy/little girl kink, degrading kink

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist

{not my gif, credits belong to @atmostories​}

I just love how innocent he looks here lol ^

Staring into the window of his office, you make no attempt in engaging in the conversation your peers were having, the people on the other side of the glass proving to be more interesting at the moment. Besides, it’s the same conversation over and over again, “Terry’s so great,” “The money,” “The brawn,” “The elegance,” you snort. All that Terry was anyway was trouble with enough money to pay off his stupidity. 

The other man, however, was different. He did not become as fortunate as his younger companion. He went through many hardships that Terry would simply never understand. The proof: you. You had been there, through thick and thin. You can still remember the fights, injuries, and brokenness of a man like a slideshow constantly playing in your head, haunting your dreams. You should’ve left a long time ago, but you didn’t. There were points in your life that made you consider dropping him and everything he was in contact with at one point. But, yet again, you never did. All you did was forgive and forget, most of the time without apologies.

But no matter how much you’ve tried, there was always one outlier that couldn’t be erased. 

Holding onto your brothers shoulder, you congratulate him on how well he’d done. He lost the tournament, but it was his heart that shined through it. Johnny was the one who handed LaRusso his trophy even as they were beating each other senseless moments ago. Pulling him in tightly, you whisper, “You did good, Blondie. We’ll get ‘em next year.” 

He smiles broadly at this, returning the favor, “You didn’t do too bad yourself, Tiny. Hell, maybe next year, you’ll be the one to beat his ass for me... That, or you’ll be the same height as him,” he ruffles your hair.

“Shut up!” you swat his hands playfully, shouldering his side, then making your way over to the man of the hour. “Congratulations,” you outstretch your hand, “You were tough to beat! I’ll get ya one day though!” you point to him smiling as Johnny pulls you out of the arena with him.

“Thanks...Oh, and I’ll hold you to it!” he yells back, lifting his trophy high above his head. You leave with a sly smirk and playful roll of the eyes, not bad LaRusso.

Walking outside, you smile at Kreese nervously, knowing that he wasn’t going to take the loss lightly. Ignoring you completely, he snatches your brother from your grasp within moments, pinning him the the nearest car in the parking lot. With Johnny under the weight of Kreese, you try to yank him off, no longer in fear of your actions but what could happen if you don’t act fast. Shoving you out of the way with a hard jab of his elbow to your eye, Kreese goes back to harming your brother, switching positions as he goes to tighten his arm around Johnny’s neck.

Tommy, fearing for his life, stands still, on the verge of passing out. Dutch goes to help you up, pulling you away from Kreese’s proximity, but not for long. Full of anger and disappointment, you tear you body away from Dutch’s, giving him a stern look that he acknowledges and respects, stepping back. You run towards Kreese once more, putting more force into your pushes and shoves. He catches your eyes for a moment, anger glazing over his own as he gets a good look at the utter helplessness and determination within your own. He doesn’t loosen up though, tightening his hold even more so as if to test you. 

Lunging once more, he blocks you from him and counters with a hard blow to your face. You fall again at Kreese’s feet, Johnny’s purpling face looking down at yours in fear and worry. As you go to make a final attempt, your prayers are answered, a man about your height grabbing Kreese’s fist in a vice grip. In a daze, Johnny is able to slip from his hold to the ground beneath him, falling into your outstretched arms as you lunge, again, to protect his head. Kreese, now turning his fury onto the short man, goes for a punch, missing and smashing the glass beside his target.

As the fight starts to get worse, Dutch gets a hold of Johnny, taking his weight off of yours and dragging him to safety. Jimmy and Bobby, going to help Dutch, leaves Tommy to help you up. Taking his hand gratefully, you are able to see Kreese’s demise clearly, a burning crimson decorating his now busted fists, no doubt shredded and in need of medical care. You turn back just in time for him to look your way, grief washing over your figure as you feel a sense of uncertainty. 

The boys get into Johnny’s car quickly, pulling out of the car lot. Tommy, silently turning his calming body to yours, questions you with his eyes. Shaking your head lightly, you signal for him to go with them, your head hazy with the brute force of numerous blows previously clashing with your face. He nods knowingly, smiling weakly, as if questioning your motives or even why you were considering the choice you’d made up. Johnny looks back at you too, but is reassured as the short man, Mr. Miyagi, places a hand on your shoulder. As they peel out of the lot, you sigh and all the strength you’d conjured dropped instantly.

“You need checkup,” the older man states, looking you over.

“Yeah, but I need to take care of him first,” you point at the man.

“Ah. Good heart always forgives. You come by dojo sometime.”

“I’ll think about it,” you answer, kindly excusing yourself as LaRusso runs over to Miyagi, leaving just you and Kreese left in the parking lot.

Slowly, you pace yourself as to not speed too closely, too quickly to the man, walking lightly and quietly. Upon entering a close proximity, he looks up, neutral expression catching you off guard. Blinking once, he looks back down at his continuously bleeding hands, acknowledging your presence but not daring to step the line of communication. He never does.

“Do you...Do you n- ...?” you start, at a loss for words as you try to rephrase the question in a way to still make him feel superior without appearing weak to himself, “Do you want my help?”

He doesn’t say anything as an answer, just simply stares at the reddening hands.

So, following his chosen behavior, you adopt it and act the same. Slowly, you take off your fleece sweater, soft and warm to the touch, and move closer to Kreese. As you move into his personal space, you don’t dare look him in the eyes, and go to rip a piece of the sweater in half. Silently, you carefully take one of his hands in your own, them swallowing yours in turn. Wrapping the now torn cloth around his fists, you slightly tighten the material around the injury to prevent further bleeding, tying off the ends to keep the sweater where you want it. Turning to do the same for the other hand, Kreese never winces, or sucks in a breath, or even grunts in anguish.

As you finish your duty, you step back, parts of your hands and some of your pants now coated in differing amounts of blood from the constant dripping mess he’d left it in for a while. Taking in a deep breath, you look at him directly for the first time of the night, “Get in the car.”

That was the first of many nightmares that litter your mind. You grew into a tough, headstrong, and independent woman not only physically, but mentally as well. You were no longer the child looked down from the tip of Kreese’s nose, and despite your height not making much of a difference, you had filled into your body, soul, and mind. You were a woman nonetheless.

You were understood by Johnny, but to an extent. As you had continued to serve Kreese, it was only right that Johnny distanced himself from him, and with that, came you as well. You accepted this, and knew that you were not at war with him, settling for calls and texts when you missed him most. Johnny still allowed you the time to talk about your problems like you did in high school, and even let you rant about the newest situation with Kreese. Everyday, he worried for you, but he knew that this was what you wanted. 

He knew you fell for him before you even had.

After that night, you went through phases with Kreese: sometimes he was happy and nice to you, other times was full of anger, arguments, and nonstop screaming at one another. You were like an old married couple without the ring, matrimony, and age. You didn’t pay any mind to it, the mixture of feelings for him stronger than the will to leave as you’d wanted to in your youth.

But overall was the feeling of betrayal, or at least a form of it. For 4 years, after the night of the failed tournament, you were with Kreese, and finally, when things started to clear themselves out, another problem arose. Although shit out of luck, Kreese was ready to give up the dojo, give it to the owner, and move on in hopes of wiping the slate clean. You were ready to forgive him. And then, Terry Silver, unable to let the past be the past, convinced Kreese to give it a second try.

Now as you sit in a circle with Dennis, Mike, and Snake on the mat of the dojo, doing some stretches before training starts, you couldn’t help but look at the men excluding you from something you had tried to keep alive as long as they had. Longer than Terry at least. 

Snapping sounds through your frustrated haze, knocking you back into reality by Snake’s fingers. Scrunching your nose in confusion, you look at him, anger now turned towards him instead. “You keep drooling like that and we’ll all be slipping around and breaking shit. Then how would we be at the tournament?”

“Fuck you, Snake,” you get up, stomping to the office without another word. He just turns a mock-offended expression to the boys who give confused ones in return.

Storming into the small cubicle deemed an office, you turn to the men standing side-by-side. “Aw, what’s the matter sweetheart? The boys not playing fair?” Terry teases, trying to push your buttons.

Face now reddened with anger, you spit, “We don’t pay for you to sit around in your office and play with each other’s dicks. You can do that on your own time.”

“You don’t pay period as far as I’m concerned. And last time I checked, you weren’t of much use here anyways, Shortcake,” Terry rebuttals.

“And last time I checked, you're just here to tie your hair back, paint your nails, torture a kid half your age and an man even older than you.”

“Why you-!”

“Terry!” Kreese warns, a hand placed on his comrades’ chest, “It’s not worth your time, just go get the boys readied up for practice.”

“Sure...sure Johnny, I can do that,” he says eagerly, leaving the room with a side glance your way and elbow to the shoulder as he passes by.

Getting up from the back of the desk, Kreese loops around to close the office door, going back to where he was previously. “Wow, you really have that dog under wraps huh? Ready to bark when you say ‘bark’ or growl when you say ‘growl’?”

“Y/N, not now. You better cut this shit out now or I’ll kick you out,” he warns.

“Oh, so now your protecting him?! You’re going to sit here, right now, and threaten me for what? Because he served with you? Because you saved him?! What a load of shit!”

“Watch your mouth! You have no right to raise your voice to me! What I do with this dojo is none of your damn business, and will certainly never concern you. Ever.”

“Oh yeah! For sure! What did he even do, huh? What’s so great about him that is worth protecting his ass for when he’s never had to do anything in return?! I was there John! I was! I dealt with your shit for 4 years! Not 1! Not 2! Not even fucking 3!”

“I never told you to! No one was stopping you from walking out that damn door when everyone else had! I would’ve done perfectly fine without your ‘help’ when all it did was provide extra shit to take care of!”

“Really?! That’s what it was? Nothing? I dealt with your anger issues, your screaming! The god damn punches, kicks, spits, screams, hell anything you wanted to do in order to harm someone else to make you feel better! But that wasn’t me... No... Of course it wasn’t, right?”

“I’ve got no time for this. Stay in this fucking room and don’t move. You even dare come out into that dojo and you’re out. I have a winner to make and not some little girl to argue with.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, tears pooling at the bottom of your eyelids as the door hides you from view.

For hours, you sit in boredom, listening to the repetitive “hut” or “ah” as blow after blow is thrown into the dummies and punching bags. If only they could do that to me, take me out of my misery for fuck’s sake. But, despite the utter pissed state you were in, you did not move from the desk, even deciding to take a nap. It wasn’t until Dennis’ unusually loud laugh is echoed within the whole dojo do you finally wake back up. Looking through the blinds, you see the boys getting packed up. Doing the same, you walk out of the office just in time for Terry to leave with the boys a few moments later.

Speeding across the length of the mats, you take long strides in order to storm as fast as possible out of the cage that holds the biggest chains around your neck. Going for the door, you are unable to catch yourself as Kreese grabs your hand and flips you onto your back, splaying your body on the mats beneath you.

Groaning, you move to sit up, watching as he goes to lock the door to the dojo, throwing the keys somewhere and closing the blinds of the big glass panes adorning the front wall. Getting up, the harbored anger floods your being once more, “I’m done with your bullshit Kreese. Let me the fuck out so I can leave this place once and for all. You seem to be doing ‘perfectly fine’ with your boyfriend, so let me go!”

Without answering, he grabs you by the neck firmly, but not enough to choke you. The memories of Johnny instantly flood your mind, causing you to grab his hand just as tight, eyes peering straight into his. Noticing your change in demeanor, he loosens his hold a little and pushes your back up against the closest wall to your back. As your back collides with the wall, his lips clasp yours.

Whining in surprise, you go to pull back only for him to pull you closer by the neck. Realization dawns on you after a moment, and within seconds, your leaning into his touch absentmindedly. You only break apart once your lungs beg for more air. “There. Is that what you wanted?” he asks you, voice gravelly.

Ignoring his comment, you grab him by the nape of his neck, pulling him into you once again, tongue battling his own. Your tongue dances around, observing every crevice and tasting every bit of his mouth, grazing his teeth, biting his lips, and even tangling it with his. Taking control back, he shoves your body back into the wall, separating your mouth from his, a trail of saliva the only thing connecting your bodies.

His hand, long forgotten and hanging loose on your neck, tightens the grip back up firmly once again and moves his other to pin your arms above your head. Now basking in dominance, he kisses you once more, pinning his knee between your legs in the most delicious way. Taking advantage of the placement, you attempt to grind your core against his thigh to relieve some tension. 

“Ah. Ah. Ah,” he warns, pulling his knee away and moving to unbuckle his belt instead, “On your knees, Slut.”

Obeying instantly, you do as he says and place yourself on your knees. Finally undoing the tie of his gi, he pulls his pants, alongside his underwear, down just enough to let his dick spring free. Gulping in admiration, you take in the view of his girth and length, precum oozing at the tip.

“Looks like your happy to see me,” you joke, loosening your tension in your shoulders.

Stepping closer, Kreese edges closer to your mouth, and, taking the hint, you wrap one hand around the base of his shaft. Your other hand, deciding teasing is the best get-back, wraps itself closer to the tip, thumb grazing the slit. Earning a shudder of pleasure from the man, he goes to move in closer again. Pulling your head away, you squeeze the tip loosely, staring up at Kreese.

At your locked gaze, his cheeks burn bright pink, enabling you to give the man what he wants now that he’s at a loss for words and flustered for you. Taking him into your mouth little by little, you stop just before the barricade of choking. Eyes locked onto his, you place your hands on either side of his hips for support, then take him in as fully as physically possible. Instantly, you are met by struggling moans of relief.

Swirling your tongue around and lapping at his veiny member, he struggles to control himself, the undying need for more consuming him. Pulling away just enough to keep the tip in your mouth, you nod at him, giving him the okay to do as he pleases. That was all he needed to start going, pulling your mouth around his cock again, and tangling his hands in your hair for a better grip. Thrusting into your mouth now, you try your best to breathe as you feel him start twitching, knowing you will be fine in a few minutes.

The closer he gets to ecstasy, the louder he gets, hips thrusting in any possible direction as his pleasure threatens to bubble over. “Look at me,” he orders, looking you in the eyes. Slightly confused, you do as told, looking at him through your eyelashes as he continuously uses your mouth. “That’s it, Good Girl.”

Without warning, he unleashes his load into your mouth, the hot and sticky cum shooting to the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow. Licking up the remains, you make a show of swallowing the contents as well, getting back onto your feet with a help of his hand. Pulling your body into his, he kisses you deeply, tasting himself.

You whine as you are still left in uncomfortable need for him, having not gotten your share just yet, the feeling of being filled a painful reminder. “Don’t worry, Daddy’ll take care of you.” And that, he does, getting to work on untying your gi and throwing the long-sleeved shirt over you head. Doing the same to him, you match his enthusiasm, pulling his shirt off and throwing it somewhere in the room. 

Playing with your clothed breasts, Kreese slips a hand under your bra to pinch your nipples, twisting them between his middle and fore fingers. Moaning, you pull him into your chest nibbling his ear. Gliding his hands down your sides and to your waist, he slowly edges his fingers slightly underneath your pants, pushing them down with your panties. As he busies himself with your clothes, you move your hands behind your back to unclasp your bra, breasts springing free and instantly hardening at the new temperature of the room.

Fingers, teasing your entrance, catches you off-guard, moaning again at the first shocks of pleasure. “Kreese,” you start breathlessly, “Enough is enough. Mgh... Stop teasing me,” you try to order, impatient and horny.

“As you wish, Princess.”

Lifting up one of your legs and wrapping it around his hipbone, he lines himself up with your entrance, entering slowly. Together, you sigh in ease simultaneously. Nodding once, you lean your forehead underneath his chin, starting to thrust slowly. Knowing this isn’t the pace he prefers, and body adjusting to his shape, you pull him in closer, whispering in his ear, “Faster, Daddy.”

Jolting at the name, he fastens the pace, grinding in rougher strokes, rubbing every part of you body in the best way possible. No one’s ever filled you the way he is now, and it leaves you stunned in a trance of utter euphoria. Tapping your other leg, you hop up to warp both legs around Kreese. At the new angle, he thrusts upwards, the overstimulation causing you to shake in a new sensation. 

Squeezing his dick tightly, you try to hold your orgasm off for as long as possible, but the building want of release causes you to topple over the edge quickly, spilling all over the body still within your own. Without faltering, Kreese continues his assault on your body, causing you to scream out in the fury of pleasure being all too much for you. Shaking harder, you struggle to keep yourself around his body for long.

Seeing this, Kreese keeps himself sheathed in your cunt, laying you on your back against the mats of the flooring. Grabbing your legs, Kreese bends them until your thighs meet your chest. Then, thrusting at the same pace as before, Kreese is able to fuck you senseless without further issues. Moaning screams of ecstasy echo throughout the dojo, the combination of yourself and the slapping of skin being the only noises in the room.

As quickly as you’d built up the previous time, your orgasm and need of release forms again, your pussy throbbing in anticipation.  “Kreese..” is all you manage, the older man quickly teetering towards the edge with you. Thrusting the hardest he had the whole night, he manages only a few more before you both come at the same time, screaming as you pull him down by the neck and into your chest, your name falling from his tongue in multiples.

Sucking in as much air as possible, Kreese and you stay in the same position panting before he unsheathes himself and collapses next to you. Catching your breath, you cuddle into his side in a naked heap of sweat and satisfaction. “Are you still jealous of Terry now?”

“It depends, am I still as useless as before?”

“I don’t believe so,” Kreese giggles, “but if you pull another crazy stunt like that, I will really have to give you a good beating. Huh, Babydoll?”

“I like the sound of that,” you say, going to straddle his hips as he lays on his back, “How about round two and I’ll consider not ripping his throat out?”

“Deal.”

[sashi-ya]

{+18} - Law x Fem Best Friend ♥ CH. 5 – FINAL PART

♥ Daily living with the Heart pirates crew AU. ♥ Spoilers after Dressrosa Arc. Law´s backstory. Wano kuni arc.  ♥ Female reader. Little physical description. Everybody is 18+, canon ages.  ♥ TW: NSFW, violence. Drama (a lot of it), some broken bones. And fluff, a lot of it. No further warnings. If you think I should include some feel free to tell me ♥A/N: thank you so so much for reading until the end of this story. I enjoyed writing these chapters so much! I hope you enjoyed it as much as me. I’ll be pleased to accept any request or commentaries on this or other fics.

Word count: 5.0K

» List of parts: {CH1}  {CH2}  {CH3} {CH4}«

 Chapter 5

Next thing I remember was opening my eyes and seeing Law’s face. He was carrying me in his arms, my hearing went from a loud buzzing to his voice. “Y/n-ya, answer me, come back, are you with me??”, my best friend kept asking me while running. I gave him a smile, and the only thing I could say to him was, “I’m sorry”, until I passed out again. 

The night sky was deep blue, full of stars and a big moon that enlightened the whole room. I recovered my senses a few hours after, since Law has saved my life, once again. He was next to me, brushing his hand over my forehead, looking straight at the door with his katana on the other hand. I was lying on my bed. Around me, a whole disaster, everything I owned was scattered over the floor. 

Once again, the first words that came out from my mouth were “I’m sorry”. I have put my whole crew, Law, and even my life in danger just because of my stupid pride… My personal doctor smiled at me and told me to shut up. He began to cry, openly, looking directly to my face. He was not hiding under his hat, not even over my chest. He was showing me how hurt he was, and this was for sure the very first time I’ve seen him cry like this. “I am the one who should be sorry. I left you alone, I abandoned you. Everything because I was scared, because I didn't want to accept how much I love you, I was afraid of changing, of putting you in danger. Look how you’ve ended because of me, they were searching for me…” he said, hitting his chest with his hand in a fist. He continued, “That’s the reason I wouldn’t really admit that the love I felt was more than just caring for a friend… I’m sorry Y/n-ya. I’m sorry… everything I said, it was a lie… I’ve loved you since...forever. You were always my star, the only person I could look at, when I was in the dark, you shine so bright, you light up my soul…”. I tried to get up from bed, but a throbbing pain on my ribs stopped me from it. “ugh… Law…”, he told me to remain still on bed, and informed me that 5 of my left ribs were broken. I wanted to say so many things, to tell him it was alright, that I wanted to go back to the polar and resume our journey as if nothing happened, but… it wasn’t that easy, I was hurt too. I remained silent, looking through the window, searching for the best words to say, to express everything I had inside my chest. 

I finally decided to speak. Law was still crying, but he wouldn’t guard down, he was protecting me. I said, “Oi, dumbass… how did you find me?”, “I followed your vivre card, of course” he answered sobbing. “Yeah, but… how did you get here so fast? where were you?”, I asked. I guess his cheeks turned to red, he seemed as if he was blushing, and after stuttering a little, he confessed, “I.. we.. I stayed in the submarine on the other side of the island, I was scared. Everybody agreed on waiting for you…”. 

He was always here?... of course, he was, his vivre card would always point to the same place. And... that time I went exploring the whole island, I thought I saw the guys in the distance, on the shore… I... thought it was just my imagination… I began to cry and laugh at the same time, covering my eyes with my hands. “I love you, dumbass. I love you more than anything, you were always here, you didn’t abandon me”. Suddenly I was so happy, I knew he wouldn’t leave me, I knew he would always protect me... I knew it. I was full of joy...  

Law laid next to me in bed, softly because he knew how hurt I was, hugged me and kissed my forehead. He had the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. He looked so relieved. The warmth I felt on my chest when I had his vivre card over, I was now feeling it all over my body. 

We stayed like this for a few minutes until Law said, “You need to rest, and I need to be alert in case some more bastards come”. I calmed him, “they won’t come here, they think we are on the submarine, leaving this city… Do you remember your vivre card?”. He looked at me, worried. I continued, “I’m sure you think that yonkou’s subordinates have found and stolen your vivre card from here, right?”. He nodded and said, impatient, "yes, when I was beating the shit out of them, I heard that they have finally found it, how come they don't have it?". “If I have learned something from you throughout all of this years is to plan things out… Yesterday morning, before leaving home I got the feeling that I should carry your vivre card with me…” I slowly pulled the little paper from my bra and showed it to him. He widened his eyes and was about to say something, but I resumed speaking like a smart detective, “Yet, a few days ago I thought of how dangerous it was that someone could find your vivre card, my dear ex Shichibukai…so, I made a fake one, I used some fish scales that I took from a fish of the river to make it, write your name on it, and leave it on that little box you now see empty over the dresser. So, I think they might be following that fish...”. Law’s face was priceless, at first, he was dumbfounded, but a few seconds later we both burst into laughing. 

Despite how painful it was to laugh with a few broken ribs I couldn’t help it. It was too funny, and it was the first time I laughed since a long long time. I missed those days when we were younger, had no place to stay and even if the cold was getting into the bones, a few stupid phrases of Bepo or Penguin made us laugh uncontrollably. It was, after all, our "Laugh Tale".

“Oi, you should eat something, are you hungry?”, asked my doctor, to which I replied with a sexy smile “I am hungry for you, doc”. “I’d love to fuck you right here, right now, as hard as I want, but It wouldn’t be ethic, you’ll be in pain…” he said straightforwardly to my face. I gasped; I love how Law gets when he is horny… “Now, tell me where the food is, I’m going to cook something”, he said and I pointed to a few groceries that were still on the counter. 

Law gathered a few of the things that were scattered all over the floor and promised me to clean everything up tomorrow. He was acting like a husband, how cute.

I contemplated how he focused on cooking frowning. The last time I saw him cooking was when we were little, sometimes he woke me up with breakfast, sometimes he would broil some potatoes, but somehow every time he did, his eyes got sad. So, before Penguin, Shachi and Bepo arrived I normally cooked for him.  

“Here, let me help you sit on the bed”, he said, bringing two plates of some risotto he made for us. He left the plates over the floor, hugged me, put a pillow behind my back and sat me on the bed. 

“Mmmh, where did you learn to cook risotto, Law? This meal is delicious!”, I said, delighted with the taste of the food. He looked at me with one of his cheeks poofed with food and smiled with his eyes. My heart skipped a beat when I saw that smile, I’m so in love with him, damn it…

The foliage of the trees that surrounded my little room began to move every time the autumn breeze blew through them. Everything was so calm. I felt as if no more danger was around me, as if nothing that could happen from now on, could be worse than being apart from Law. 

We chatted for a little bit while eating, we were happy, no worries, Law never stopped smiling and neither did I. He helped me to lay down on bed again, and he did the same next to me. “I love you”, Law whispered to me while grabbing my face with his hands, softly caressing my cheeks with his thumbs. Our noses touching, both smiling. “I love you too…”.

Morning came and a sweet smell of honey woke me up. Law was softly kissing my forehead with a cup of tea on his hands. “Good morning darling, I made you a green tea with honey”. I covered my mouth trying not to laugh, but it was impossible. I broke out laughing. Don’t get me wrong, I thought that what he did was the most cute thing ever… but… can you imagine Trafalgar D. Water Law being all cute and romantic? “This is the first time you call me “darling”, I’m sorry”, I said and kept giggling. His face changed to a poutier one so I stopped laughing, “I’m sorry Law… I mean… babe?.” I said and took a sip of the tea. 

He gave me a little smirk, and directed his sight to the floor while saying, “I’m ok with any name you call me, I like “babe”, It makes me happy”. This was the first time I saw him in love, and it was… with me. 

After breakfast, he washed the dishes and called Bepo. “Aya aya, Captain!! how are you? is Y/n with you? is she ok?!”, screamed the polar bear on the other side of the line. “Oi Bepo, yes, she is with me, she is ok. Are you ok? did you notice something suspicious or any movements last night?”. Ah… Law, always talking like he is some sort of a secret agent of the marines…. “Captain, Penguin speaking. We saw two ships leave the coast at night, they got the Beast pirates flag. They didn’t see us; we were hiding as you told”. “Perfect, Y/n-ya has five broken ribs, I put them in place, but she will have to rest on the mainland for a few days, the pressure of the submarine could make the pain worse if she goes immediately underwater. Please, keep informing me at any suspicious movement. And don’t worry, they aren’t following my vivre card”, Law informed my nakamas and hung up the den den mushi. 

“Y/n-ya... darling… I should change your bandages and treat your wounds, are you up for it?”, he asked like the good doctor he is. “Yes, honey, let’s do it. I’m sure you already know, but there are some supplies in the bathroom, but If they aren’t enough, you could go and ask Dr. Saturn, I’ve been working with him as his medical assistant”, I told him. He looked at me, and suddenly his eyes turned to fire. Law rarely loses his taciturn countenance, but that time his face transformed into pure hate. “What is it?”, I asked him without any clue of what was happening. “That bastard, that “doctor”, he sold you to the pirates”, he almost shouted. Profoundly shocked, I mumbled “What? how… how did you know?”. “I investigated while we were apart, I didn’t mean to follow you or else, but… I was worried, I wanted to protect you… even though I let these things happen to you”, he said now with a guilty tone, while unfolding the bandages. “It’s ok, it’s now over, from now on we will be together to protect us” ... I told him with a side smile that soon turned into a little wince. 

Soon I was left with no bandages on my body, my torso naked, covered in bruises and scuffs. Law softly brushed some cotton embedded on alcohol over the scuffs, he was so delicate that It felt almost as a tickle sensation. His hands always worked as stethoscopes because of the Ope Ope no mi, so he then placed a hand over my heart and checked my heartbeat. The cold breeze and the soft touch of his hands over my nipples made them turn hard, and a little gasp slipped out of my mouth. The touch of skin over mine lit a fire inside of me.

Law looked at me top to bottom, finally worshipping with his intense grey eyes, my boobs. Licking his upper lip, he slowly approached his mouth over one of my erect nipples. He licked it from bottom up, fixing his eyes on mine, smirking sexy. My body squirmed as the sensation of his wet tongue struck me with a wave of pleasure. Even if It hurt, even if I had a few broken ribs, that little action made me wish he fucked me hard, I needed to, I had a real lust for him. 

He kept on using his mouth, he would lick, softly bite, suck both of my tits, gently enough to avoid my ribs hurt. 

“Oi, let me put you some bandages, if not… we can’t continue…”, he said. And I, that I was lost in the arousal that Law was producing on me, agreed. He started folding my torso with the elastic bandages, the pressure over my skin that sometimes hurt, also contributed to the heat of the moment. “Imagine if instead of bandages, I used some ropes…” he softly whispers next to my ear from behind. 

I turned my face to the side and reached for his mouth. We kissed passionately, lustfully, erotically. 

The bandages were so tightly snuggled that I couldn’t feel any pain. Law managed to tight them perfectly so they could be holding my ribs but letting my breasts free of them. 

My lover delicately laid me down on the bed, took off his shirt and settled over me. Law ran his hand over my face, caressing my skin, while maintaining his weight with the other arm at the side of my head. I kissed his palm with the side of my mouth. This moment felt magical for us, our eyes interlocked with pure love for each other, it was more than just pleasure. He was making love to me, and I did too. 

His fingers travelled from my face to my sex, getting moistened with how wet I was. His tattooed index finger lingered over my clit tracing circles around and over it. A few moments later he put the finger on my mouth requesting me with a “taste your flavour” to lick his finger. I sucked it so lewdly, that made him groan loudly. 

He knelt in front of me and used his middle and ring finger with a “come hither” motion inside of me, spotting the G point, making me arch my back and moan loudly. And as if that pleasure wasn’t enough, he also used his tongue over my pleasure button. I cummed so hard, squirting his whole hand. 

Far from being exhausted I invited Law to release the bulge trapped into his trousers and to come near my mouth. “I want you to jack off and fuck my mouth, babe” I asked him with an inviting obscene tone. The surgeon gasped and as fast as he could took his pants off. I opened my mouth with my head over the pillow sticking my tongue out, awaiting to taste his sweet member. 

First, I licked it, then I grabbed it with my hands and placed it inside of my mouth. Law was so heated that couldn’t resist himself and hold my jaw in order to fuck my mouth, first cautiously, but then violently as he left himself go with the desire and the pleasure he was experiencing. I fixed my teary eyes on his, choking with the length and width of his hard rock pennis. He didn’t finish, but instead, went straight to fuck me. 

Again, he was settled over me, delicately penetrating me, with soft thrusts at first but increasing the pace with every pounding. He strongly held my wrists over my head while fucking me. 

Letting me go he approached his body to mine, letting the side of his abs slightly rest over my stomach in order not to put so much pressure over my ribs. He charged all of his weight over the right side of his body and his elbow on the bed and kept on fucking me. The penetration was slowly just for the both of us to feel every movement in detail. Law stroked my hair as I whined more and more with pleasure. We both came almost together, with our mouths pressed moaning “I love you”. 

Three days after, I felt better enough to take a walk, so after the guys confirmed that the city was free of dangerous enemies, we left the house for the first time. The fall had fully arrived at the island, warmth colours, chilly breeze that softly made some far away sunflower fields dance, the floor covered in dry red and brown tinted leaves, a few pumpkins that the citizen had on their porches, some shop owners already putting up Halloween decorations and a few kids playing on the street were part of the scenery of our walk. Law didn’t speak much as always, and I was enjoying how his tanned skin got bathed by the orangey tones of the afternoon sun. 

Eventually, we arrived at the city centre, where the local producers market was taking place. I told Law that I wanted to buy some flowers from Mrs. Ann stand at the fair as I always did. He smiled at me, showing he agreed, and I started almost running. I recognized that I could be a little childish and impulsive sometimes, especially for someone like Law. “Oi! don’t run babe!!” he warned me and grabbed my hand in order to stop me. I looked back at him; my hair got blown by the wind as well as my skirt. I gave him a wide grin, slid my arm so that he could now hold my hand and pulled him towards me. The very first seconds he looked so mad at me, but then he let himself go and followed my pace with a big smile. We were almost running, holding hands, making the crows and larks fly off the streets scared of us. 

“Hello Mrs. Ann, I’m here to buy you some pretty flowers, what bouquets do you suggest?” I asked the florist. “Hello, my dear! you seemed so happy today! who is this handsome young man that joins you today?!”, she said curious. My smile quickly faded, and I realized that we still haven’t talked about what we actually are, so, “Uhm… he is…”, “His boyfriend, I’m his boyfriend”, Law ended my sentence with a straight face. I blushed and giggled, I felt as if a hundred butterflies were flying inside of my stomach. Mrs Ann smiled at us, with genuine happiness, and said “So, this time we should let him pick the flowers for you, right young man?”. Law pointed to the sunflower’s bouquet and timidly said “Those, her favourite flowers are sunflowers, so I guess I’ll take those”. “Good choice boy, you know why sunflowers are so special? They usually face the sun, but whenever it is cloudy, they face each other so they get enough energy… Same goes with couples, whenever there are clouds in the sky, they should count on each other, until the sun comes back again, and both can enjoy it together”. Law smiled at her and then at me, I know for sure that we both count with each other, I know we do.  We bought some more groceries and ended up having a picnic on the fields. This life was somehow better than I thought, but soon our couple time should be over. Our journey must continue, our missions should be complete, and we were young, we would have plenty of time once we achieve our goals to grow old together. 

Two days after we returned to the submarine, and despite spending the last two days thinking of a better way to communicate with our crew that we… were dating, we couldn’t find the perfect way. Law was mortified, he hates to show emotions, and whenever our crew knows the big news, the amount of energy it's going to be too much to handle. 

We could sight the Polar Tang that was moored on the coast, everybody was on the deck waving at us, shouting our names. Law was slowly hiding under the coat collar with every scream, and I was waving at them. I have missed them so much. “Guuuuuys!! guuuuuys!!! oii!!” I screamed, Law grabbed my hand and said, “be careful, you are not fully recovered yet”. “I’m sorry doc, I’ll behave… I promise. That means also no more sex until I get fully healthy, right?” He looked at me with a “how dare you?” expression but I kept talking, “fufufu… don’t worry I was joking, I couldn’t say no to getting railed by you, babe…”. I winked at him and he smirked saying “You are a lost cause…”. 

The whole crew hugged me, expressing to me how much they have missed me, that I shouldn’t ever leave again and asked me why the hell I had left the submarine in the first place. I told them that tonight we should have a party and that Law, and I would explain everything in detail. My nakamas agreed on such a good plan and began to prepare everything to set sail. 

I saw Law carrying my stuff inside, so I followed him. He entered his room with my baggage, and I stopped at the door… “Law, why are you putting my stuff in your room?” I asked, a little confused. “We are going to sleep together from now on, this should be your room too, right?” I widened my eyes, what have I done to the cold emo boy I once knew? I was pleased but surprised for sure. “Well, I’m fluttered, are you willing to hear me snore every night from now on?”, I asked, mocking him. “I’m ok with hearing you snore, if that is the price I have to pay for fucking you every night and cuddling with you”, he said, with a calm attitude. We both laughed and he helped me to unpack everything. While putting everything in place I saw an old polaroid we took back at Dressrosa after the big fight over his nightstand, and over it there was the necklace I had returned to him last time I was in the submarine. “Oi, babe, can you put me the necklace back, please” I said, holding it in my hands and showing it to him. Law smiled, approached me, and while he passed the chain on my neck, he said “Next jewel I’d like to put on you will be a ring…”. I giggled a little and kissed his cheek. 

The night came and we were already in the middle of the sea, the sky was garnished with little stars that lit up our party, and the guys were drinking, dancing, and shouting.  I decided that I’ll never leave them again, whatever comes to us, whatever happens between Law and I, this was my family, and I would be always with them no matter what. 

I went inside looking for a blanket because the night breeze at the open sea could be quite cold. We usually keep some blankets in a little room next to the kitchen for easy access in case we emerge, and someone has to guard on the outside. Suddenly someone hugged me from behind. I instantly recognized my beloved sweet scent. He placed his chin over my shoulders, and his hands wrapped around my low stomach. We remained like this for a few moments, enjoying our company, dancing to the music that came from outside. We began to kiss gently, and Law closed the little door. We laughed while our lips were still pressed and then with our foreheads also. The joy and intimacy I experienced was so cute, as if we were just married… "stop, let me help us with something, SILENTO" I said, and snapped my fingers, creating a safe space where nobody in the submarine could listen to us with the power of my Nagi Nagi no mi. "Nobody can hear us now, we can be as naughty as we want'' I told him with a lascivious expression while grabbing him by his chin. That probably fanned the flames even more, so he pushed me against the wall and while kissing me, he started unbuttoning my trousers, and then almost ripping my panties off too. He put 2 fingers on my mouth for me to suck on them just to made them wet with my saliva. He shoved them into my pussy and moved them as he only knew how to. While he was fingering me, with the hand that until then was on my breast, he took off his pants revealing a huge erection that was about to be inside of me. 

He grabbed one of my thighs, holding it up, just to spread my legs even more so he could fuck me even deeper, right there, standing, with my back pressed against some sort of metallic wall. I wasn't able to think anything besides how I wanted him to fulfill me with his hard cock. He fucked me so hard, I almost lost full control of my limbs, thank God he was holding me as If I weighed anything less than a feather. Damn, how strong he is. We let ourselves go, and after lustfully enjoying our fleshly lusts, we decided it was time to come back to the party. We were unaware that we climbed the leather to the deck holding hands and smiling at each other, so all of a sudden, the music stopped, as well as the murmur of the crew. Shachi shouted, “I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! of course everything that happened was because of this!” I closed my eyes, waiting for Law to shout and order them to shut the fuck up, but instead he said, “Of course it was because of this, it doesn’t take too much to come up to the conclusion… you idiot”. I started laughing, followed by my nakamas. The whole night came by with us celebrating my return to the submarine and the new couple...

 A few adventures and two years after. End of the Grand Line, Laugh Tale Island…

I could still hear Mugiwara and Law laughing, we have achieved the last island, and you won't believe what the “One Piece” was, but that is  just a whole different story that maybe I’ll tell you about it other time. 

I was over the deck of the Polar Tang, admiring the beauty of the island that left the horizon back at us… I was thinking how many things we have been through to finally get here. Life hasn’t been easy to none of us, but surely, we made it happier, together. I wonder what our future has prepared us from now on. 

A strong wind blew my hair, and I could sense as if someone was behind me. I thought it was Law, but when I turned around, I saw a blond man, wearing a blue feather coat, a heart patterned shirt and a hat that I could recognize real fast. His image wasn’t clear, but I could see him though. “Hello, Mrs. Trafalgar, please don’t freak out. I’m sure you know who I am… I came here to thank you. Thank you for taking care of my little boy, how big he got…”. I knew he was “Cora-san”, I wasn’t scared, I knew he was the kindest person in the world. “Thank you, Mr. Rosinante, you saved Law’s life, I’ll always be grateful for what you’ve done for him. He is who he is for you”. The guy with a blue mark under his right eye, and some lipstick that made his smile even bigger, nodded and said, “by the way, congrats, Rosinante could be a great name, plus it goes well with the D…”. Next, I heard Law calling me “Y/N-ya, what are you doing here all by yourself?”, I turned around and he was coming my way, with a confused expression. I looked back at where Rosinante was, but he had already disappeared. 

 Law hugged me, he was happy and placed his head on my chest. “Did I tell you how much I love to hear your heart beating?”, he asked me still with his head over my chest. “You did, darling, it won’t ever stop beating for you”. Law smiled but suddenly his face turned to a more serious one. He stopped hugging me, and asked with a worried face, “Babe, how many hearts do you have?”, “You are a cardiac surgeon, I’m sure you know how many hearts I have, Law”, I said laughing. “Yeah, because I know that people normally have one, it’s not normal that I hear two hearts beating inside of… wait…” He stopped talking, looked at me and concluded everything in no time. “Babe… are you?... Am I going to be... a father?”, he said with tears on his eyes. “Congratulations, daddy”, I said, and Law hugged me so tight, holding me up in the air crying with pure joy in his heart. We remained hugged until a little bird flew past over us and a blue feather felt over us… 

The End ♥

Thanks for reading! I’m open for requests, so if want me to, just ask ♥ 

[lewis-winters]

one day, dick says; they're a lot like us. and lew, sleepy and barely coherent, lifts his head from its place on dick's belly and squints at his husband, illuminated so gently by the morning light that he looks like a deity lit from within by some holy fire. who? who is like us?

psyche and eros. dick clarifies, running fingers through lew's ink black locks, laced through by precious silver. from that book i was reading.

ah, the library recent. lew rolls until they're face to face, dick's arm under his neck and his blue eyes smiling brands into lew's own like the sun does at its most glorious. all the while, dick's fingers never part from his hair. he leans into their warmth and sighs. tell me why, then, professor.

well, they love each other, for one.

ah, yes. a must.

but i don't think eros meant to love psyche as much as he did.

lew snorts. now you're losing me, baby.

no, listen. dick laughs, gathering lew into his arms so he may press the following words into the curve of his stubbly cheek, lips like petals, soft and sweet and warm on lew's skin. the arrow got him, dug itself into his thigh by accident-- he didn't mean to. he really didn't. he was there on orders, he had expectations to meet. a higher power to please. but when he'd gotten there, he'd seen a boy so beautiful, he forgot it all and forgot himself, forgot that he's not as infallible as he likes to think he is. he's a god, but what does that mean against his own arrow, his own heart? in one swift moment, he's in love with this beautiful, impertinent boy asleep on that gentle slope of a hill behind their barracks, and what's he to do?

lew swallows around the lump in his throat. so what does he do?

he takes the boy away. it takes a few years, but he takes him away, to a farm in a land all their own. lew feels more than sees the smile dick lets loose at that. it happened swifter for them than for us-- eros had wings. i had a parachute. but as far as analogies go, that's pretty good, don't you think? lew giggles, both at the question and at the flutter of dick's eyelashes on his temple. butterfly kisses. so sweet his teeth ache. anyway, he takes him away and once there, safe and sound, eros asks him for nothing except one thing.

dick pulls away then. still close, but now distant enough to catch lew's eye, to hold his gaze and give what little emptiness that is between them the illusion of a chasm. lew's blood runs cold, so cold he's frozen in place. like psyche might have been, the night a promise had broken, the night a measly candle powered by the whispers of doubt had illuminated the face of a god.

lew knows the answer, and because he does, he doesn't bother with the question. i broke your heart.

you broke my heart, dick echoes, blue eyes so clear and sharp, like shattered glass in the moonlight, like spilled whiskey on their cerulean kitchen tiles. many times. over and over. you broke your promises and my heart and like eros, i broke yours by leaving.

the lump in lew's throat grows bigger and he turns away like he'd been struck, the stinging in his eyes matching the sting of the memory from years ago, of that one harsh night on those train tracks, watching his love fly from him, watching the man who'd never given up on anything give up on him. his worst nightmare.

dick brings him out of it, though. takes his long, elegant fingers and hooks them under lew's chin to gently guide him back to their cocoon of warmth, where he can press petal soft lips to the curve of lew's cheek, to the corner of his mouth, to his eyebrows, the tip of his nose, and his eyelids until the water trailing down his face is nothing but smears, a mere nuisance in the face of all the tenderness, all the love.

but you fought, dick reminds him, runs his fingers through lew's hair again, and smiles when lew smiles, crows feet around his eyes making him look decades younger. you fought your way back, through hell fire and against your own demons, you fought your way back to me, and when i got my head out of my own ass i fought my way back, too. back to you. back to this.

dick, lew sighs, reaching up to hold dick's face as gently as dick holds his. reverence in every brush of his fingers against freckled skin. you said a bad word.

dick kisses him, then. proper and long, sweet and powerful, just like ambrosia and nectar, the promise of something ever lasting and immortal passing through lew's lips and filling his chest with warmth, the golden light that lit dick from within just moments ago filtering through him. making him precious and loved, cherished and missed, beautiful like he had once been but more so now that he isn't a doll to be admired, a reluctant heir to a legacy he wanted no part in. dick kisses him and makes lew a god. lew kisses dick and makes him a slave to his own arrow.

when they part, they are equals. intertwined and connected. together at last.

you're getting sappy in your old age, honey. lewis tells him with a breathless chuckle.

dick doesn't reply, all he wants to say reflected in his eyes and in a story told thousands of years ago, the spoken words stuck in his throat. but it's alright. lew hears him loud and clear all the same.

he gathers dick in his arms and kisses all he can reach. i'll tell you a secret, lew says, to soothe dick's trembling, the remnants of another life where they might have lived apart. eros hit psyche with an arrow, too, did you know?

dick blinks, butterfly kisses against the crook of lew's neck. he did?

on that hill in fort benning. lew laughs. i woke up and i swear, i saw an angel. i knew then. i would let you take me away anywhere.

[anika-ann]

Attached: Hurtful Words Pt.2

Type: (mini)-series,  Modern-college-professor AU… aka the wrong attachment AU ;)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 3530

Summary:  Steve’s been hit hard with the events involving bad poetry on campus too. He thinks he knows what needs to be done; but sometimes, what people truly need is a really good friend who knocks some sense into them. 

Enter Bucky Barnes and Penny Cooper.

A/N: Attached: Hurtful Words is an addition that loosely followes the Attached series. You don’t necessarily need to read the mini-series as a whole, but you will understand much better.

Warnings: mentions of name calling and humiliation, brief violence, swearing, some angst and lots of talking

Story masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

The friendship between Bucky and Steve had begun with a beautiful chain reaction.

On a cold November day many years ago, a six-year-old Steve Rogers witnessed a pair of stupid boys stealing a girl’s hat and tossing it around and he stepped in; a seven-year-old Bucky Barnes saw two jerks hitting a younger and obviously weaker kid and decided to take it personally.

That day, Bucky Barnes met Steve Rogers and instantly became a protective older brother, for he recognized that Steve had a brave and kind heart. That day, they became easy friends, because Steve recognized the same qualities in Bucky.

Even if they grew as people, they had their ups and downs, they never grew apart completely and stayed best friends for life – and the protectiveness over each other never disappeared. Which was only one of the reasons why Bucky felt an unbearable urge to punch someone – preferably the idiots who got his OTP into this mess.

Fairly enough, he wanted to punch you a little bit as well for keeping Steve in the dark and hurting him too, but hey – you were entitled at least, you were the target of the jest that the three antichrists came up with.

Hell, Bucky even considered reaching out to you himself since you kept ignoring Steve; not necessarily to scold you, god forbid actually punch you, but just to beg you to talk to his friend.

In the end, he decided against it, because it wasn’t quite his business and you probably knew better than him when you were ready to talk. God knew that seeing you broken and in tears would hurt Steve too and it would only feed his doubts and as Bucky suspected, misplaced guilt.

No one wanted to see that right? Bucky surely didn’t.

He truly just wanted his friend happy and the thing was, you made him the happiest Bucky had ever seen him, even with the complications and ‘controversy’ surrounding your relationship.

So when after days of silence on your end Bucky entered the office and saw a sombre expression on Steve’s face, somewhat more pensive than his recent usual, and a phone in his hand, he froze in the doorway, heart stopping in his chest.

Oh. Oh no, please don’t let that be it.

His heart kicked back in when he focused on Steve’s eyes – they were downcast, but visibly not teary and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. Manly men and all that, but fuck, Steve would shed a tear or two if you two were completely definitely over. Oh, and he would probably devastate the office in a burst of frustration.

“Hey Steve,” Bucky hummed nonchalantly, closing the door behind him and making his way to his desk. “Who was that?”

He purposely didn’t look at Steve so the punk wasn’t shy about talking about whatever conversation he had. It happened on occasion, Steve keeping stuff to himself, when he was thinking he was annoying Buck – but joke was on him. Yes, Steve could be annoying as fuck, but Bucky could stand a few emotional talks when his friend was on the verge of losing what seemed to be the love of his life.

“Uhm… nobody,” Steve responded simply, putting the device away. He started going through the papers on his desk as if searching for something in attempt to look busy.

Bucky rolled his eyes. As if that would work on him.

“Right. Try again.”

The rustling stopped, a resigned sigh falling from Steve’s lips before he admitted the truth. “Penny Cooper.”

Bucky’s head snapped to Steve, eyebrows jumping for a second.

He did not expect that answer, but he couldn’t say he found it an unpleasant surprise. When Bucky had thought about contacting you, he considered getting in touch with your best friend too.

And yes, he knew Penn Cooper’s name; hell, he had met her on a sort-of friendly hang-out night where you and Steve tried and very much failed at not being a disgustingly-in-love couple when having a night out with friends. Bucky hadn’t complained nearly as much as he could have, mostly because he was delighted to see Steve so lovestruck for a girl who was evidently just as lovestruck for him.

Anyway.

“Ah, Penny. You finally decided to call her. Good. How did it go?”

Steve didn’t appear to share Bucky’s hopeful sentiment, running a hand down his face and turning his gaze to the ceiling.

Bucky narrowed his eyes; while his heart sank at what seemed to be no good news, he could tell that this was not a mourning Steve. In fact, looking closer at Steve as he approached his desk, it was dawning to him that this was Steve overthinking something he heard from Penny.

Great. That’s probably even worse.

In attempt to prevent a catastrophe in making, Bucky did the only thing that came to his mind. He probed.

“That bad, huh?” he stated more than asked, crossing his arms on his chest. “She told you to leave her bestie alone?”

Steve grimaced, his eyebrows furrowing; a clear sign that he was digging deeper into a hole he was creating for himself in his head. The pit of misery and gloom. The pit of despair.

“Not exactly… I think.”

That was the problem with Steve really – sometimes, he thought. Steve Rogers was in fact known for occasional and epical impulsiveness, but so the gods above help if he sank into a well of overthinking. Because that usually led to a stupid decision, which was practically irreversible due to Steve’s infamous determination and stubbornness. It was next to impossible to talk him out of something once he made up his mind.

“Stop that, punk,” Bucky warned him silently, uncrossing his arms and giving Steve a glare.

“Stop what?” Steve asked with a sigh, as if he didn’t know.

“Overthinking. Get out of your head. It just produces loads of bullshit right now.”

“Bucky-“ was all that Steve said, sending his friend an imploring gaze, but Bucky was not fooled. The wheels of doom were still turning in Steve’s head, inevitably leading to the aforementioned bullshit.

And as Bucky had learned the hard way, once the final stage of decision-making was reached, there was no going back. Not with Steve. Which meant he had to stop that disastrous thought before Steve’s stubborn ass grew it into an apocalypse plant.

Then, Steve’s expression shifted; a minor change, yet all too visible to a man who knew him since he was a kid.

Bucky recognized what just happened… and he panicked.

When Bucky Barnes was panicking, he did things he wasn’t necessarily proud of later, but of which he was certain would work.

Plus, the quickly set-up plan was bound to kill two birds in one stone, giving Bucky’s unbearable urge lasting for the past few days an outlet. Win-win, crisis averted, right?

“Get up off your ass,” Bucky ordered, earning a half-heartedly invested surprised and confused raise of eyebrows from his friend.

However, Steve did not stand up.

“Get up, Steven.”

Slightly annoyed but resigned, Steve rose to his feet, the movement a testimony of how exhausted he was. How much energy the past few days had stolen from him… how much of energy he had spent on navigating through the maze of confusing and self-doubting thoughts.

But that was ending now; Bucky was going to make sure of that.

“What?” Steve sighed, clearly expecting more of the pep-talk, possibly more intense since he was asked to stand upright.

He was wrong.

Sorry, Steve.

Like a lightning, Bucky’s fist shot up to Steve’s nose and connected with it with a snap.

Steve stumbled back into the chair, barely catching himself and his nose, staring on Bucky wide-eyed and hurt.

To be fair, Bucky was hurting too – fuck, he forgot how punching people without boxing gloves felt.

“The fhuck-“

“-is wrong with you?!” Bucky finished as he was wondering the same, shaking his hand in hopes to distract himself from the pain.

For a brief second, satisfaction flashed in Steve’s eyes; but Bucky could tell that his get-out-of-your-head technique worked, so he was pretty satisfied himself. Not to mention that Steve probably felt that punch in the back of his skull, having literally rocked his world.

“I wah jugh godda hask!” Steve mumbled, checking the fingers hovering around his nose for blood, frowning as they indeed stained in some crimson – but nothing terrible, Bucky thought.

Then again, he wasn’t the one with cracked nose.

“Outta your head now?” he asked, unable to hide all of his smugness.

Steve frowned at him, clenching his jaw, but didn’t try to punch him back as he probably realized which purpose the unexpected and unusual violence served.

“Bhacky, wah ta hell-?”

“Right before I punched you – you decided to give up on her, didn’t you?” Bucky questioned, being 95% sure about it. Steve’s face told him it should have been 100%. Idiot. Sad and having the right, but still an idiot. “The Steve Rogers I know wouldn’t give up.”

“How did you even-?” Steve asked incredulously, not trying to deny it, not even with his words.

As if Bucky still needed words with him. He knew him almost better than himself.

Also, it was funny how quickly Steve’s punch-induced mumble disappeared.

“You kidding? You’re acting like I didn’t know you since you were six. And during all that time, I didn’t see you give up, not fucking once!”

The slight raise in volume of Bucky’s voice stirred something in Steve – or perhaps it was the accusatory tone by which Bucky was shamelessly trying to provoke a reaction. Because really, Steve desperately needed to leave his overactive brain behind and experience some new emotion besides pure misery and guilt. Anger was okay, Bucky supposed – not great, but okay.

“Jesus, Buck! You know this isn’t it! Look at the mess we already made!” Steve exploded, throwing his hand in the air. “What about in the future? She was planning doing her master’s here! And what about in her future job? It was on the Internet – it never goes away! It will stay with her like a fucking plague, a bomb loaded with C4 ready to be set off! They’ll do a background check and come across it and decide that it would send a bad message to people. Or they’ll humiliate her again, mock her that she’s gonna start an affair on the workplace too. She won’t get the job just because of being with me and they’ll call her a whore on top of that--she doesn’t deserve that!”

The name you had been called stood out even in the long passionate monologue – Steve spited it out with so much venom and hatred towards anyone who would dare to call you that that Bucky nearly had to take a step back from the intense crackling in the air.

He watched Steve take a deep breath in silence, frustrated and sorrowful blue orbits watching with a silent plea to understand.

And Bucky did; he really did. To a point.

“She doesn’t deserve that, Buck,” Steve echoed in a whisper.

A whisper of a broken man, torn between seeking his own happiness on expense of someone else’s and doing what was right in his mind.

Bucky reciprocated the stare, simultaneously impressed and unimpressed as his mind had already put together what Steve had been thinking before saying it out loud. Steve’s speech only confirmed his fears of how Steve would twist what was happening into something he was to be blamed for completely... and would come up with doomsday scenarios.

Except there were always two people (well, sometimes more), when it came to this sort of thing, weren’t there? Two people who were equally participating in this relationship, both very much willingly.

“…you done?”

The plea in Steve’s eyes seemed to deepen before he averted Bucky’s gaze in shame.

Like Steve should be ashamed for the crimes against human decency others committed. Crimes like writing bad poetry and putting in on walls.

“No. You know what else is there. I know you know.”

Yes, Bucky knew.

“You bet your perfect dramatic ass I do, Rogers. I figured they weren’t exactly love letters, because you have zero poker face. How many times? What did they call you? A perv? A molester?” Bucky grinded his teeth, the urge to hit someone returning instantly, hungry and thirsty for blood – and Steve’s nose wouldn’t do this time. He needed a real asshole so he could feel like he made a difference.

Bucky was aware that Steve had started receiving the hate letters almost as soon as the whispers about the relationship started. He had never said a word about them to Bucky and at first, Bucky had been thinking they might have been love letters from someone else, causing him to frown, because in which universe wanted Steve someone unhappy, let alone because of him?

But it soon dawned to him; precisely because Steve hadn’t shared them. Not with Buck and not with you, he suspected. He couldn’t decide which was worse.

“…among other things,” Steve sighed and shook his head. “It would be tiring, it is, but… you’re right. I don’t give up easily. That kind of hate letters… those I can handle. But they said I’ll ruin her future too… and they’re right, it’s already started. I can’t-- not her, Buck. I can’t watch her deal with that bullshit. This can never happen again. I—I have to let her go.”

Weren’t they just over it? That Steve’s head was in no state to make reasonable choices?

“You cannot unring a bell, Steve. It’s done. You said so, it’s on the internet. Tony’s done his best to delete the trail, so the digital print is practically non-existent, but it’s done,” Bucky remarked matter-of-factly. “The things you’re saying, they might be true to some extent, not as tragic as you paint them though. The question is – are you gonna fight for the two of you, so the good stays too… or are you gonna leave like that, on that real fucked-up note and regret it in few years’ time when you look back at this?”

Bucky could pinpoint the exact moment all fight left Steve’s body – his shoulders slumped and his expression turned resigned, almost desperate as he looked up into Bucky’s eyes, his gaze speaking thousands of words.

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve whispered, averting Bucky’s gaze then, focusing on his desk instead, staring blindly ahead. “She wouldn’t talk to me, Buck. I tried, you know that. She’s done with me.“

Bucky sighed and leaned his palms onto the desk, easing the pressure on Steve’s poor tormented soul by softening his demeanour. In the end, all he was trying to do was to help – no matter how frustrated he was getting.

“Of course she wouldn’t talk you, Steve. She’s probably just as caught up in her head as you are in yours. I just hope that Cooper is working on getting her out. What did she tell you?”

Steve gulped and bit on the inside of his cheek. Bucky would swear he saw a hint of a blush on his friend’s cheek and an unpleasant hunch crept up on him.

Oh no, he didn’t.

“…that I shouldn’t come over so I don’t push her too much. That she might not be responding, but she’s listening to all of my voicemails and reads all the texts and e-mails, so until she explicitly asks me to lose her number, I should keep trying,” Steve mumbled, traces of both hope and shame lacing his voice.

Bucky pushed off of the desk and huffed loudly, looking up to the ceiling and pleading God for strength.

A dumbass. His friend was a complete and utter dumbass.

When Bucky spared him a glare that told the blond what he was thinking, Steve sunk further into his chair.

And Bucky was honestly so so done.

Hadn’t he been delighted at the turn of events and Penny, the best friend, giving them hope, he might have punched Steve again for being a dramatic fool. And for being an idiot.

“Sometimes I think you like getting punched, Steven, I have no other explanation,” Bucky deadpanned and then closed his eyes and went to massage the bridge of his nose to ease the headache that was starting to build up in reaction to stress. He loved Steve to bits, honest to God, but he really could be an idiot sometimes. “So you talk to the friend, who probably knows her through and through, she tells you this and still you go: nah, let’s leave her alone, let’s break things off, let’s give up. Jesus, Steve.”

Steve held up his hands palms up, apparently lost and clueless.

Okay, Bucky felt for him. But still.

“I don’t know what else to do, Buck. I- I love her. She’s everything I could ever want, I cannot imagine losing her. It’s… it’s making me sick to just think-- but I don’t want to ruin her life either, Buck, I don’t want to-“

“Be happy?” Bucky interrupted, earning a deadly glare from his friend. “Don’t give me that look. I told you. Now, she’s probably still processing, just like you. Her head is probably a mess… just like yours. I know it’s hard, fuck, I know. But try and do what Cooper is telling you and stay patient. Oh, and I don’t know, maybe just-- don’t. Give. Up.”

Bucky had to gather his next thoughts, not at all happy about what he was about to say next, feeling like he was undermining the message he was trying to get through. But he believed that Steve needed to hear that too – his righteous side would love it, in fact.  

“And then, let her make the choice. It will hurt like a bitch if she decides to break up, but at least you won’t be making her choice for her. I think there’s a fair chance that she’ll come around. She likes you a lot too, you know.”

“She said anything to you?” Steve’s head snapped up automatically, his face lighting up with a hint of an eager smile.

Hadn’t he been so cute, Bucky would have rolled his eyes at him. Instead, he shared his observation that took zero effort to gain. Everyone who had at least one functioning eye would notice… which included Fury. Anyway-

“She didn’t have to. It’s written all over her face, in her body language. Shit Steve, you practically live together, how can you even doubt her feelings for you? I thought you were like… soulmates almost. Shared everything and stuff…” Which lead him to another thought, a brief surge of fear that there was one thing that might complicate this matter further if possible. “But she doesn’t know about those ‘love’ letters, does she?”

“God, of course not!”

“Good, then she can make a decision to overcome this on her own, just like you decided to deal with your problem alone,” Bucky offered and a smile slowly spread on his lips. “Just… share it with her once things are a bit calmer, will ya’? You don’t want her to find out on her own.”

Steve mirrored his expression, the tension in his body visibly easing. Bucky could kiss Penny Cooper at that moment. Hell, maybe he would the next time he saw her, just because.

“…you really think I should keep trying?” Steve asked, genuinely curious, but obviously knowing the answer already, seeing as his bashful smile widened.

Really?!

“Steven, my hand hurts, don’t make me punch you again.”

“…point taken,” Steve chuckled, turning his palms to Bucky in a show of meaning no harm. And not wanting to get hit again, probably. “I can’t believe you hit me.”

Bucky had to admit that it wasn’t his brightest moment – but hey, it worked, so guess it was sort of a genius move after all.

His eyebrows jumped suggestively, teasing. “Didn’t think I’d see the day you’ll be on the receiving end of the infamous Barnes’ super-jab.”

“Oh, quit bragging.”

“Blah blah blah, you’re just mad because my fists are like made of iron,” Bucky exclaimed, clenching them and showing them off, causing another chuckle bubble in Steve’s chest.

Bucky’s heart jumped in joy – it was like gift from heavens to see Steve like this after the days of gloom.

“Jerk.”

“Punk.”

“Thank you,” Steve retorted in the same manner, but Bucky read honest gratitude in the two simple words.

“You’re welcome,” he replied with the similar simplicity and depth they both understood. “Drinks?”

“God, yes.”

“No hard liquor tho, we need you in good shape when your girl calls you back,” Bucky pointed out, satisfied when Steve’s smile widened a fraction more.

“You got yourself a deal, Buck.”

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

The night before graduation ceremony, Steve forwarded one of the strangest texts he had ever received to Bucky: Come. Incognito. Blend with the crowd till you get a signal.

Steve apparently wasn’t sure what was your best friend trying to say – or he rather had no clue why would she ask him to do that, why come to the graduation (which made him hopeful) and why in secret (which confused the heck out of him).

He and Bucky agreed that Steve should listen to the advice though; what did he have to lose anyway?

Few minutes before midnight, Steve sent a simple answer: OK.

Several moments later, somewhere in the campus, another phone beeped on a young woman’s nightstand.

Operation: Morons is on.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Part 3 (final for Attached: Hurtful Words)

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Thank you for reading! 

It got a bit out of hand... I really had planned this to be a two-shot for the series, but my usual longwinded writing got in the way. I hope that’s okay and that you liked the Steve-Bucky bro moment at least a bit :)

[kanri-tea]

Demon Slayer! AU (Part 1 - The Beginning)

Ramuda and Jakurai are tossed into a strange new world, but at least they have each other. Things are peaceful at first, but not all happiness lasts.

~~~

“I’m heading out!”

“Be careful,” Ramuda hears Jakurai call out from the depths of the clinic, no doubt busy with another patient. The pattering of footsteps could be heard as children raced around the wooden hut, snow crunching under their feet.

“Are you going to the village today?”

“Ehh? I want to go too!”

Ramuda laughed as the Hanako and Takeo whined. It was almost New Years, so going down and selling charcoal to earn some more money so that everyone could eat to their heart’s content wasn’t a bad idea. Even though Jakurai received many donations throughout the year, even his saintly attitude and charity to every ill and injured person couldn’t keep everyone fed.

“No, none of you can walk as fast as Ramuda. He can’t pull the cart today, so you can’t rest while he gives you a ride,” Suzumi, another live-in patient at the clinic, sighs. The man was still lecturing Hanako and Takeo when Ramuda leaves, waving his goodbyes, but well, that was old man Suzumi for you.

As Ramuda walked down the snowy mountain, his mind drifted. How many years has it been? Five years? Wow, time really has flown bye, he thinks. And it’s probably been even longer for Jakurai. It’s strange, to be stuck in the past with only Jakurai.

Ramuda hummed to himself. Maybe he should buy some fresh eggs – along with mochi of course – while he was in the village! After all, Jakurai always did like having eggs over rice with natto.

They’re facing another bitter and angry person with an illegal microphone. They’re always bitter and angry though, bitter at the changes in the world, angry at their own powerlessness. They’re one of many.

Ichiro, Samatoki, Ramuda, and Jakurai are together, coincidentally, when the man attacks them. They’re not particularly concerned, not at first. They’re known as the top hypnosis mic users for a reason. The Chuuoku is invested in them for a reason.

That quickly changes though when Ichiro disintegrates. And disintegrates he does, starting from his feet and slowly moving up until he’s just… gone. None of them know what’s going on, and by the time they realize what’s happening, Samatoki is already half-gone and Ramuda and Jakurai have already begun to disappear, grain-by-grain.

The perpetrator is laughing now, manically talking about his revenge plans about the Chuuoku, but none of them are listening. They’re frozen, confused and, while they might deny it, terrified.

The last thing they think, before they’re completely gone is: I don’t want to die.

“Well, if it isn’t Ramuda-chan!”

“You really came down on such a cold day? Good work, but you’ll catch a cold, and I’m sure the doctor won’t like that.”

“Oooi! I want to buy some charcoal!”

“Ah, Ramuda! Thanks for repairing my sliding door the other time.”

Ramuda took a deep breath, taking in the scents of the villagers. They’re as busy and energetic as usual, he thinks fondly. Maybe it’s stupid of him, but after so many years in the past and out of the Chuuoku’s control and in better health than he’d ever been, Ramuda couldn’t help but love listening and smelling how people lived and moved… Nah, it was probably the old man rubbing off of him. Eew, Jakurai germs.

“Aaahhh! Ramuda, I’m glad you’re here,” Ramuda turns towards the screaming man. Oof, looks like he pissed off the missus again.

“Can you tell who broke these dishes?! Please help me!”

As the man shoved the broken ceramic towards his face, Ramuda leaned forward to take a whiff. Cat, he thinks, and says as much.

By the time he finishes selling the charcoal, it was beginning to turn dark.

Jakurai’s going to fret again, Ramuda frowns as he makes his way back up the mountain.

“Hey Ramuda! Are you returning up the mountain? At this time? You can’t, it’s dangerous.”

“Huh? I’ll be fine, my nose can smell anything.”

“I’ll let you stay the night, so come. Turn back.”

“But –“

“Enough of that! Come here.”

“Ehh? Mister, what’s got you so scared,” Ramuda sighs, heading over to the hut. Geez, if it weren’t for the fact that Jakurai asked him to play nice with the villagers, he would’ve left Saburo in the dust ages ago.

“Demons will appear,” Saburo replies, with utmost seriousness. Ramuda could practically feel his eyes roll back into the sockets of his eyes. Ugh, every time he thought he was getting used to this place, someone’s always there to remind him that this was the early1900s and people were stupid. Seriously, demons of all things?

As Ramuda settled down for the night, half-heartedly listening to the man’s ramblings about demons, he wondered if the man was lonely. Having lived alone since his family died, Saburo must be pretty lonely. Maybe, Ramuda thinks before drifting off to sleep, he should bring some of the kids to visit next time. He’s sure Hanako and Takeo especially would love the opportunity to meet new people…

Everything is dark… It’s so cold…

He’s drifting, drifting slowly in an abyss of darkness.

Where am I?

What happened?

Ramuda couldn’t remember. Something about an illegal mic, he thinks.

He’s waking up, slowly, and when he does, there’s a familiar scent. Who is it?

“Ah. Good, you’re finally awake,” he hears. The voice is deep, yet gentle and soft, and oh so familiar.

Ramuda turns his head to the side, and then he r e m e m b e r s.

“Jakurai,” he tries to snarl, but his voice is hoarse. It comes out much higher pitched than he’d ever been able to pretend. What the hell?

“Amemura-kun,” the old man greets him, but Jakurai looks much, much younger than Ramuda had ever seen. There aren’t any wrinkles or signs of exhaustion and age that had clung onto Jakurai like a parasite.

“I found you drifting down a river,” the doctor explains quietly, “and I took you back here, to my clinic.”

“Tch,” Ramuda clicks his tongue, “who’d want you of all people to rescue me. Why d’ya have a clinic? Thought you worked at a hospital, or did’ya decide that you’re too good for them?”

Jakurai stills, head tilted, eyes scrutinizing Ramuda. He hates how it feels, the way Jakurai’s gaze seems to burn into him.

“… I see. I suppose you must’ve recently woken up,” Jakurai muses, “you should go back to sleep for now. Rest and recover.”

“Oi, you can’t just say that and not tell me what the hell’s going on!”

“Are you sure you want to know now?”

Ramuda gulped. This felt… serious? He nodded. His vision was starting to darken, sleep trying to pull him into its sweet embrace, but he wanted to know what the hell was going on first, especially with the old man.

“… The illegal microphone, I fear, has tossed us into the past. The Taisho era to be exact,” Jakurai informs him, “I don’t know what happened to Ichiro and Samatoki, but before I found you, I had assumed I was the only one here.”

Ramuda’s vision goes black, sleep pulling him under.

“No. Nononono –“

It’s Suzumi’s body that he sees first, blood soaking the white snow. Underneath the man is one of the kids – Tadashi, Ramuda thinks – and their bodies are cold to the touch and lifeless.

“What – How did this –“

It doesn’t take long for him to see the bloody and broken screen doors of the clinic and the many lifeless and bloody bodies littered on the ground.

Ramuda wanted to scream. What the hell? Suppressing the urge to vomit, he searched through the clinic, hoping to find signs of life.

Hanako, Takeo, Shigeru, Yamato, Sen, Tohru, Sora… The list just went on and on, all the various patients who had come to the clinic in hopes of being healed or saved were dead. The many people that Ramuda had come to love and care about in place of his posse were d e a d.

Jakurai, Ramuda finds though, is still warm. He’s covered in blood just like everyone else, but his breathing was shallow. If… maybe if Ramuda could move fast enough, Jakurai could be saved. Sure, the doctor in the village wasn’t as good as a doctor as Jakurai, but…

Ramuda would save him. He refused to let the stupid old man die too.

He moved quickly to travel back down the mountain, the cold chilling him to the bone and Jakurai’s body acting as a dead weight on his back.

How could such a thing happen? A bear? A bear that didn’t hibernate in the winter?

Fuck, Ramuda thinks, breathing hurts. The winter air was freezing his lung, but he had to move faster. He had to continue moving forward.

I won’t let you die, he thinks furiously, I’ll definitely save you, Jakurai.

He’s… tired. It’s nothing unusual, not particularly, but there’s something about this exhaustion that feels different to Jakurai this time though.

Hunger. There’s an aching sense of hunger in stomach, but why?

The demon! Oh… oh. They were all dead, weren’t they, Jakurai mourned internally. Once again, he was too powerless to protect anyone.

“ – hold it off! I – in you!”

Someone was speaking, but Jakurai couldn’t tell who or what was being said. Why was everything so muddy?

As if the world was trying to convey a message, Jakurai felt himself being flung back, slamming into a tree. He’s being pinned down again, but by who? And why? There’s screaming too, but Jakurai couldn’t make out anything. Why... Why were his senses so dulled? Where was Ramuda? Was he safe?

Bam!

Jakurai’s vision snapped back into focus, just in time to watch as this strange man was pinning him down slam the handle of the katana (what the hell, a small part of his mind whispers, how the fuck does this kid have a katana) onto Ramuda’s back.

As Ramuda’s axe swung towards the man, Jakurai quickly spun into action, breaking free of the man’s hold, and making a grab for the fallen pink-haired boy.

Crouching in defensive position in front of Ramuda, Jakurai glared. He might not know what was happening, but he knew enough that this man could be a danger to himself, and more importantly, to Ramuda.

“I will not let you hurt him,” he tells him, voice hoarse and with a hint of growling for some odd reason.

He hears Ramuda cough, “Finally awake, you stupid old man? Took you long enough.”

Jakurai deigned not to respond, keeping the man within his vision. Ramuda had fallen unconscious, but how did he know this? Everything felt so much clearer and sharper now, his ears picking up even the smallest of footsteps of the critters in the forest to even Ramuda’s heartbeat.

“You,” Jakurai focused back on to the strange man, “Are you… protecting him?”

He doesn’t respond. Was this a trick? Of course he was protecting him. The man in front of him scrutinized them for a couple more seconds, neither party moving a muscle.

“I… I’m going to take a chance with you,” the man slowly says, “but if attack… I won’t hesitate to decapitate you.”

It took a couple seconds of silence, but as soon as Jakurai nodded back, the man turned around, facing a patch of bamboo. With movement faster than his eyes could follow, the man cut the bamboo into pieces.

“Here,” he motioned towards Jakurai. “Bite on this bamboo. It’ll be better than biting the insides of your mouth.”

At this, Jakurai finally noticed that he’d been biting hard enough to taste blood. That was not good. The gnawing hunger was starting to get stronger and stronger, but he now knew better than to fall prey to it. It was a hunger for the flesh of humans, a hunger that only demons had.

Taking the bamboo, Jakurai ripped a piece off his haori and laced it through the sides before securing it around his head and mouth. The bamboo would eventually start biting into his gums, Jakurai realized, but this would do for now. At least until Jakurai had time to meditate and get himself back under control.

“You must never bite anyone. You must never eat a human. If you do, I will cut you down. Do you understand?”

Jakurai pulled out of his thought. Reaching for the bamboo, he moved it aside to answer the man.

“Rest assured,” Jakurai quietly tells him, “My purpose is to serve humanity.”

The man looks startled at the answer, but Jakurai stays firm, light blue eyes never wavering from the man’s darker blue ones.

“My name is Tomioka Giyuu,” the newly named Tomioka tells him, “And when that boy wakes up, tell him to visit the elder named Urokodaki Sakonji living at the foot of the misty mountain. Tell him that I sent you.”

With that, Tomioka began to retreat, leaving Jakurai and the still unconscious Ramuda behind.

“Also, don’t go out in the sun,” Tomioka tells him as one last goodbye before disappearing from sight.

Jakurai let himself relax once the man was out of sight. God, what a mess. Everyone was dead now… And he was a demon? It seems that his original theory of being in the past might not be as accurate as he’d first thought…

But for now, it was time to bury the bodies. If this Urokodaki could help them, could inform them more about this strange world, then Jakurai would go. Ramuda will not be hurt, not by Jakurai, not by whatever dangers this world posed.

Jakurai refused to let another person die, not if he could save them.

Kind, Giyuu thinks to himself as he returns to report to Oyakata-sama. The purple-haired demon's eyes were kinder than any human he'd ever encounter, except for maybe Oyakata-sama. There was an air of kindness and charisma that the demon had that Giyuu had encountered only once before in his life.

It's strange, but Giyuu couldn't help but look forward to seeing what the duo would do. A demon who refused to eat people and a human who swore that he would turn the demon back into a human. Two impossibilities, yet here they were.

Sending them to his teacher was probably for the best. Urokodaki would train the boy to fight demons. The future, Giyuu thinks, might be pretty interesting.

[bluebellhairpin]

Mrs. Dameron

Poe Dameron X Wife!Reader

A/N: TROS IS ON DISNEY+ AND I’M FINALLY GOING TO GET TO WATCH IT FOR THE FIRST TIME! probably tomorrow night I’m a little excited. - Nemo 

Based on: This Post (Because I am a huge ‘Pride and Prejudice’ Nerd) 

Summary: Twelve years. Then eight, and five. Two. One. The journey to become Mrs.Dameron has been wild, reckless, death-defying. But on so very worth it. 

Masterlist  

Twelve years ago was the first time you met Poe Dameron. 

It was your first day at the Resistance, Poe was younger then. Hot headed and cocky as ever, but much less experienced. He’d been assigned to show you around, which fitted well since you were going to be his X-Wing’s assigned mechanic. His last one quit.

Back then, you didn’t have a clue why. 

Eight years ago was when you first recognised your exact feelings for Poe Dameron. 

He was an ace pilot, one of the Resistance’s best by far, and he knew it. You were still his mechanic, greeting him with a bright smile every time he came back from a mission, ready to fix whatever damage BB-8 couldn’t. 

You loved him then, you were sure.

Five years ago Poe Dameron showed you how he felt about you.

He’d almost died - again - but this time it was different. This time you could’ve died too. He didn’t like that one bit. Once he landed, he pulled off his helmet and threw it in the cockpit, jumping down from his ship, and started searching for you. Spotting each other, you beelined. You were expecting a hug, then to chew his ear off about how idiotic he was again.

But he cradled your face in his hands, and kissed you.

Two years ago Poe Dameron first asked you to marry him. 

You were stuck in an old base on Creit, seemingly with no way out, and he just asked. You figured to hell with it, and said yes. You thought you’d might as well add to the list of things you could do if you did manage to live. You did live, thankfully. 

Poe didn’t bring it up again back then.

One year ago, the First Order was destroyed, and Poe Dameron asked you to marry him again. 

Over the course of that one year, you’d turned to part-time piloting. The Resistance needed pilots, seeing as most of the pilots had been killed the year before. So up in space, surrounded by the ruins of enemy ships, Poe asked you the question over comms. 

This time he was serious. 

One week ago, you married Poe Dameron. 

And honestly, your life couldn’t be much better. There was no war, no First Order or siths, no real problems. It was idyllic. Being on this planet only helped. 

The sun was setting, the weather was just how you liked it despite the fact there was a fire crackling in front of you, and Poe was resting behind you, his head on your shoulder as your side curled into his chest. You hadn’t smelt the salt of the sea in a long time. The sea in front, and Poe behind - his distinct smell seeping forwards onto you. His smell can only be described by the feeling of warmth it spread through your chest.

Space didn’t smell like much, in fact it smelt so little of anything that you couldn’t even describe it. You always enjoyed being close to Poe. Unlike space, he smelt like something. You might even be cliche and say he smelt like home. 

Poe moved, pressing a kiss to your temple as he stood to stir up the fire again, embers reaching into the darkening sky as if they were to join the many stars above. 

You watched Poe, the fire crackling and dancing in his eyes, the flames painting his face with a glow that sent a shiver down your spine. He must’ve felt you staring, as he smiled, looking up at you with those eyes that you could now call yours.

“What’s with the eyes, darling?” he asked, moving to settle at your side, resting his weight on an arm extended behind you. 

“Nothing, really.” you shook your head, your own smile creeping onto your face, “But I don’t think I like the name ‘darling’.” 

“Oh,” he said, eyebrow raising as he let out a chuckle, “So what ‘names’ do you think you like?” 

You sat, thinking for a moment, before your smile spread wider.

“Well, I think for everyday ‘Sweetheart’.” Poe nodded, reaching out for your hand to play with your fingers as he listened. “For Sundays you should call me ‘Doll’.”

You both laughed at that.

“And ‘Goddess Divine’ on very special occasions.” He cast his eyes off your hand, his smile reaching his eyes.

“Very suitable names, I think.” he sat up fuller, giving you more attention as he folded his legs underneath him. “And when should I call you ‘Mrs. Dameron’? When I’m angry?” he asked with a chuckle.

“No! Of course not.” you shook your head, letting out a laugh of your own as you thought again. “You should only call me ‘Mrs. Dameron’... When you’re completely, perfectly, and inexplicably happy.”  You finished, beaming up at him. His smile turned soft as he nodded, placing a gentle hand on the side of your neck.

“So, what’s with the eyes, Mrs. Dameron?” he asked, making butterflies erupt in your stomach, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You were almost about to answer him when he spoke again.

“Mrs. Dameron.” He left a kiss on your cheek, lingering ever so slightly, before moving to hover over your nose.

“Mrs. Dameron.” Then he kissed your nose, catching your eyes with a breathy laugh. He was wooing you as if you were on your first date, not on your honeymoon. Not that you were complaining. You were rather enjoying it. 

“Mrs. Dameron.” he then kissed your other cheek. He sat down, pulling you to nestle between his legs. He had the biggest and most genuine smile on his face now. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this happy before. 

“Mrs. Dameron.” His lips met yours, as gentle and slow as ever - you were both savouring the moment, and by god you were gonna do whatever it took to keep life as nice as it was now. If you could kiss Poe like this - as feeling and bare as it was now - then you would. Even as his hand wandered down to run his fingertips across the skin under your shirt, you knew you wouldn’t change a thing.

“You know,” he mumbled, his mouth barely broken off of yours, “I think I might only ever call you Mrs. Dameron from now on.”

“And why’s that, Mr. Dameron?” you asked, smiling as his nose brushed yours.

“Because you make me so completely, perfectly and inexplicably happy.” he said, mimicking your phrase from before, and kissing you again with a smile. 

“Ah, everything makes sense now.” You said, and he groaned out a laugh, leaning back slightly to rock you both back for a moment.

“Just, shhhh, and let me kiss you.” he said, and pressed a hoard of kisses up your neck and all over your face. You laughed, caching his face in your hands to guide his lips to yours again.

And then again.

And again, all night long.

[whirlybirbs]

𝒜.𝑀.   ;   rattlesnake whispers.   |    a high-society drabble

summary: you’re beginning to distrust dutch van der linde.

pairing: arthur morgan/reader (turner placeholder lastname), hosea + reader friendship-centric in this drabble.

a/n: things weren’t gonna be peachy forever. part of a companion piece to simpler said aloud. this is a drabble for the collection high-society, which follows the events of that fic.

In the last handful of weeks, you can't help but feel as if someone has suddenly plucked the pair of rose-colored glasses — ones you weren't aware you were even wearing — from your nose.

...Concerning the one Dutch van der Linde, specifically so.

In the beginning, when you'd been swept from that stagecoach on that hot summer day — when you'd eventually ended up marooned by your own family, left with nothing but a trunk of old belongings and a growing sense of alienation... Well, Dutch had been nothing but kind. Fatherly, even, and you'd found yourself admiring that gang's head of household.

After all, he and his boys had dragged you — quite literally — into this mess; Dutch would see to it that his well-manicured and grandiose reputation as the good (not the bad, nor the ugly) would ring true.

He fed you, sheltered you, even let you dig your roots in when that ransom money never came, and when it felt, at times, you brought more trouble to them than good.

There were times when the sheep's clothing slipped, however; when he showed his teeth and spun silver-tongued threats veiled in well-to-do manners. There were times when Dutch van der Linde's voice was gilded with promise, yet all you heard was greed. You knew that sound well. You were practically weaned on it.

Oily and greasy and slippery.

High Society and the like.

You dared not say a word of these thoughts — though, you could sense the shift in the air when you'd all been forced to Clemens Point many weeks ago. Between him and Hosea, a canyon had been driven. The divide seemed to shake Arthur.

At the time, you didn't know any better.

Now... Well, you know the exasperated wince that flickers onto Arthur's face when Dutch raises his voice beyond the tents, down by the lake — insisting a stagecoach robbery would do the boys some good.

To get out there! Get some cash... and soon! California...

You know the gentle squeeze of his hand on your shoulder; the passing mutter of a promise he'll be back soon... All the intricacies of Arthur Morgan sewn uptight with irritation and hesitation. He rides off with Charles and Bill, blue eyes cast back your way. The errand boy once more.

You fiddle with the dog-eared page of the book in your hands.

You've read over the same paragraph a hundred and one times by now.

Hosea notices.

"You're fussing."

Your lashes flutter.

Hosea is smirking — he turns his attention back to his newspaper and if you knew any better, you'd think he was simply trying to quiet the vicious paranoia beginning to unravel itself in your brain.

"I suppose I am."

Hosea's brows furrow at the quiet admission; he looks back up at you with a mild sense of surprise.

You're a smart girl — very smart. So smart, in fact, that Hosea is continuously wondering how on Earth Arthur keeps up. You've got a sharp sort of wit that could cut a man down in two strokes. To hear you go quiet at a playful jab... Hosea decides, in that moment, he will follow up when there are not so many souls around.

"You an' our dim-witted golden boy, then?"

You note the change in subject with a sigh of appreciation.

Your book snaps closed and falls to the table; you cross your legs, sunshine colored gingham skirt swaying in the afternoon breeze. Hosea managed another wry smirk in your direction as you shake your head and laugh.

"He isn't dim-witted —"

"Says you," Hosea mumbles, "I taught the oaf how to read..."

"Last week?" you chirp, voice alight with amusement, "Late bloomer, he is."

Hosea barks out a laugh. He folds his paper up. "Is it serious, then?"

You waver. "I certainly m'not lookin' t' play his heartstrings like a harp, if that's what you're wonderin', Hosea."

A hum.

"Good," he knocks his knuckles on the wood of the table before him, "You two are a smart pair. He's... had his heart broken before, poor sod, but... He's good. Strong. Has a lot t' give to th' right person."

You fiddle with your fingers, a light smile playing upon your lips. "He's far too hard on himself."

"Always has been," Hosea sighs as he leans back in his chair, "When he was younger..."

The words die off like Hosea remembers something with an immeasurable fondness. The twinkle in his eyes finds the afternoon clouds, and you exhale softly through your nose.

"He's a good man," Hosea says finally, "Robbin' an' killin' aside. Given th' chance, I know he'd a' been more in this life. Just th' way things worked out, s'all."

"Isn't that how it is for all of us?" you earnestly, "If things were different..."

"If things were different," Hosea continues, gently and with a warm sort of fatherly care, "Would you still be here?"

"How y' mean?"

"If that daddy a' yours had paid the ransom," the seasoned con-man explains, "Would you still be here?"

Would you have left? Broken Arthur Morgan's heart once more?

You pause. The paranoia that sits on your tongue tells you to think quick but — this is Hosea. Blind faith and undying loyalty matter little to him. You know that. Hosea is not Dutch van der Linde. You wonder, bitterly, if that will be his downfall.

He cares about his son. You know those intentions sit deep in his words.

You fiddle with the hem of your linen shirt, rolling the sleeves as you weigh your answer.

"I knew I cared for Arthur back when we were camping at Horseshoe Overlook," comes the timid confession, "He... He went and bought me this beautiful gold fountain pen, and..."

Your brows furrow and you look as if you might bleat out a laugh.

Hosea smiles. "I remember."

"I acted like it was nothin'. Both of us did... but, I think we both knew we didn't nearly hate each other as much as we went on about," you sigh with a little laugh, weaving your fingers together and leaning forward onto the table, "And, Christ... You and Dutch and Miss Grimshaw and... I'd never met people so quick to take me in. Had that money ever come... I wouldn't have wanted t' leave. But, debts owed are a dangerous thing."

Hosea is quiet for a moment.

"You know," Hosea lowers his voice, "Leaving, sometimes, isn't a bad thing."

He then sees that flicker of emotion from earlier — the very one you'd been fussing over — and he knows you get his meaning. Your eyes dart to the tent of the man in question... But, before you can open your mouth to press on about it, the roar of the very one you'd come to stiffen around flashes his teeth and rounds his tent.

"My, my!" Dutch calls, "Look at you two hens, gossiping the day away."

Hosea sees the flash of anger on your face. Only for a moment. Well-timed and well-bided. Gone as quickly as it came.

You turn in your seat, smile as bright as the morning sun.

The con-man wonders how many years of practice that took.

"Hello, Dutch," you call with such sincerity, Hosea nearly wonders if he'd misread your previous worries, "How are you?"

"Just peachy, my girl," he swaggers forward, hands tucked into the pockets of his vest, "And what, may I ask, had you both so deeply engrossed in conversation?"

"Our bumbling idiot son," Hosea supplies, waving his hands as he drops the paper down, "and his good-nature."

"Ah, yes, Arthur."

You'd wished Dutch would just move on. Slither to whisper in snake-tongue to his rattlesnake brethren, Micah, across the camp.

But, no.

Down he settles into the empty seat across from you. Dark eyes try to pin you in your seat — but you don't allow it. You're quick. Wretchedly smart. You lean forward and drape your chin into your palm, attention fully rendered on the gang's leader.

How Hosea ever thought you to be some pure, little lamb... He knows better know. Better than Dutch, it seems.

He supposes that's what High Society does to women like you. Anger and hatred and all those very human emotions... You learn to disguise them beneath facades of couth manners and passive smiles.

"You say that as if y' have an amendment you'd like t' make, Dutch."

There's a beat of silence that washes over Dutch at the polite challenge to speak his mind — and at first, the dark-haired man can only muster a bark of a laugh and slip his eyes to Hosea. He hadn't expected that. You'd caught him off-beat.

Dutch then wets his lips and reaches to palm his pockets for a cigar.

The gears are turning as he reaches for a match.

"Well," he begins, striking it on the table with a flick, "I s'pose our blockheaded enforcer is a romantic, is all."

Hosea feels as if he's watching something he should stop.

"And do y' have quarrels with romantics?" you ask with a well-manicured kindness. Hosea wonders if Dutch even questions it, or if he's got his head so far up his ass he can't even hear you, "I, well... I always thought yourself a romantic, Mr. van der Linde."

"An idealist, Miss Turner," comes the puff of cigar smoke, making his gaze look hollow and lifeless, "I am an idealist — our dear boy Arthur, however, is not. He lets... fantasy cloud his better judgment."

"Does an idealist not drown himself in ideals," you tut easily with a smile sweet like honey, "As a romantic does in fantasy?"

Dutch's words falter for a moment.

You fill the silence.

"A well-spun argument, I must say, but semantics all-the-same," you wave off the idea that your words could be construed as anything less than polite as Dutch narrows his gaze, "Wouldn't you say so, Hosea?"

"I s'pose so," comes the hesitant affirmation, "When it's put like that."

Another beat of silence.

"Perhaps you misunderstand me," Dutch laughs loudly, clapping his palm on the table — and you watch as the silver tongue spins his web up and around, as he always does when caught in the mouth of the truth, "Arthur is... well, he loses himself in romance. Very different."

Very different, indeed.

Loses faith. Clears his head. Realizes you're goin' batshit, Dutch.

You hum, leaning back and tilting your head.

Hosea clears his throat.

"Speaking of," Hosea tries to redirect, "Where did they head off to?"

Your eyes never break from Dutch's stare.

It's he who looks away in the end.

"Micah heard whispers of a stagecoach passin' through the Bayou. Some real estate brokers, lookin' to reinstate foreclosed land. Could be some papers we could work on sellin'."

"Whispers."

Not a question. But it's laced with doubt. You're playing a dangerous game.

Hosea's eyes bounce to Dutch. "We dealin' in whispers, now, Dutch?"

Irritation bubbles in his voice when he speaks. He takes a long puff of his cigar. "An' just then, were you not th' one chastizing me on my semantics, Miss Turner?"

Yet, despite the tipping point of rage indicated in Dutch's voice?

You smile and laugh and shake your head. "All in good fun, Dutch. I caught your meaning."

It snuffs out the fire. Where there is no means to justify it... Dutch knows anger that's seen as undeserved will draw sides.

Smart.

"Good fun, indeed, Miss Turner," he says as he stands, "Hosea."

"Dutch."

Those rose-colored glasses are gone.

Hosea's were lost long ago.

Now, the two of you share a long look sans the hue.

[glimmerglanger]

Maybe Dal-Voe's perspective on her many dads & one mom or the time she made her big ol' scary dog friend and wanted to cuddle him forever!

Oohhhh! We haven’t heard from Dal-Voe, yet. I also had a request from over on ao3 to have her and Korkie running into each other, so I’m putting that snipped in this reply, as well. :D. She’s… mmm 10ish in the first snippet, around six in the second (the one from ao3).

~~~~~~~

Dal-Voe scrubbed the back of her arm across her face when she felt a warm, familiar presence getting closer. She’d known someone would find her, eventually. The Temple was gigantic, but there were only so many places she liked to go.

She sighed, staring out over the sprawling mass of Coruscant from her position on one of the ledges that ran around the roof. She’d managed to find a way out a few years ago and liked to retreat there; it made her feel like she could see the entire world.

“He deserved it,” she said, without even looking around. She felt Cody pause, a few steps away, not surprised that he’d risk the walk out onto the roof. He’d always been sure and steady, and, besides, she was there. She’d catch him if he slipped. 

“Rhom deserved to have his nose broken?” Cody asked, amused and chiding at the same time, and Dal-Voe winced. 

“I didn’t mean to break his nose,” she said, sighing and looking up as Cody finally reached her. He sat, easily, as though there were not so many hundreds of feet above any landing, soft or hard. “I just…” She sighed, and leaned forward into him, curling an arm around his shoulders and pressing her cheek to his.

He rumbled in his chest, a comforting little sound that chased away all the pressure in her head, and always had. She exhaled, closed her eyes, and admitted, “He said I ought not to keep scent-marking you. That it was wrong. Because you’re not… really my family.”

Cody stiffened, a little. He said, voice gruffer, “You can’t punch people just for being wrong, Dal.”

She laughed, just once, rubbing her forehead back and forth across his jaw. “He said I just do it for attention.” And the words had stung, at the time. The implication that she’d ever try to - to lie about how she cared about any of her family had felt like a barbed lash across her heart.

She knew, perfectly well, that Anakin was her father by blood, and Force knew she loved him, too, even though she didn’t see him much. But Cody had always smelled like family to her, it had always felt right for him to be there in the Force, the same way it was with Obi-Wan and Kei-Donn, and…and even the twins--

“Well, he’s an idiot,” Cody said, his arm around her, solid and strong. Comforting. “You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

“I am,” she agreed, exhaling and snuggling closer, wishing, briefly, that she was still small enough to be just picked up and held. They sat there in silence, the wind cold and sharp so far up on the Temple, until the aching in her chest eased enough for her to continue, “It’s not just what he said.”

“Oh?” Cody asked, and she nodded against his shoulder, biting at her bottom lip. 

“I’ve been… worried. About other things.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with training with a Master, would it?” 

And she wrinkled her nose, always a bit irritated when her parents proved that they knew her so well. But it was a relief, too, to be known. To be understood. She shut her eyes once more, picking at the hem of her robe. “Yes. I know it’s early, but… but, I’ve been having the dreams again.”

Cody tightened his grip, noticeably. They rarely spoke of the dreams she had, sometimes, the ones that had left her screaming her way awake when she was younger. She’d gotten a better handle on them, with Master Yoda’s help, but… 

“I can feel a darkness coming,” she whispered, quiet, into the chilly air, the back of her neck prickling. “I can feel something awful, out there. Waiting for me.”

“Well, it can go on waiting,” Cody said, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair, his emotions curling around her, a comforting wave of determined protection. “And if it tries to come for you, it’ll have to go through me, first.”

And the words should have been a comfort. They were, even. But there was a pit, in the base of Dal-Voe’s stomach, that informed her that maybe, perhaps, that was what she was most afraid of. She shuddered. She needed to convince Master Ahsoka to start training her, quickly.

AND NOW, HALF-SIBLING TIME

Korkie felt an itching on the back of his neck for no discernable reason. He’d come out to the Senate gardens for a breath of fresh air. Bo-Katan had made serving as envoy to the Republic sound like an important responsibility, when she gave him the job. He was beginning to think it was nothing but a headache.

Mandalore had not joined the Republic - Korkie doubted, privately, that they ever would - but even his aunt could see the use of keeping… lines of communication more open than they had been in the past.

Hence his placement on the planet, far from home and his parents and--

And the back of his neck would not stop itching. He sat aside the padd he was looking at, turning to look over his shoulder, expecting to find a droid or perhaps an aide from one of the Senators.

There was a girl. Staring at him, with a curious look on her face. She had an absolute mop of curls and bright eyes, a scattering of freckles over her nose. She was dressed like one of the Jedi, though she couldn’t have been more than six, perhaps seven.

Korkie cleared his throat, when the girl just went on staring at him, and said, “Ah… hello, there. Are you...lost?”

The girl frowned at him. “No,” she said, “I always know where I am.” And then she walked up, tilting her head to the side, still staring at him, her hazel eyes narrowing. “I’m Dal-Voe. Who are you?”

Korkie looked around, wondering if, perhaps, the Jedi just allowed their children to roam, free-range, across all of Coruscant. She certainly seemed to have no adult with her. He said, “I’m Korkie Kryze, are you sure you’re supposed to--”

“You feel familiar, Korkie Kryze,” she interrupted, coming to a stop before him, both hands on her hips. 

“I feel what?” Korkie asked, looking around again, and the girl reached out and put a hand on his face, turning his head back. He blurted, “I beg your pardon, miss, but--” and she frowned at him, something about the set of her mouth….abruptly very familiar.

He cut off, gaping quite unlike the professional diplomat he was supposed to be. There was something familiar, too, about the shape of her eyes and brows. Something he’d seen before, quite often. Almost every time he looked in a mirror, in fact.

And Korkie had never interrogated, much, his connection to Master Kenobi. His fathers had told him, when he was much younger and grown curious about how, exactly, two alphas had come to have a child, about his adoption. They’d told him, after her death, of the truth regarding his Aunt Satine. The rest had fallen into place when he’d come to Coruscant. 

It had been… interesting, to learn more about his background, but his parents were, he knew, still back on Mandalore, helping with the restructuring efforts, pushing back at some of the more… inappropriate policies put forward by Bo.

He cleared his throat and said, to the frowning girl before him, “I don’t suppose your last name is Kenobi?”

She grinned at him, all at once, showing a missing tooth right in the front of her mouth. “That’s right,” she said, her eyes widening as she asked, “How’d you know that, mister?”

He shook his head, wondering how to even go about explaining their… connection, but he was interrupted in that moment by Senator Amidala running into the little courtyard, her long skirts hitched up in one hand, her expression tense as she blurted, “Dal-Voe! There you are! Do you know how worried I’ve been?”

Dal-Voe looked over at her, expression abruptly abashed, and said, “No, but, look. I found someone interesting.”

[theredraccoon]

A Desperate Proposal - Ch 1

“Have you gone absolutely insane, Alec? What the fuck is this shit?”

Jace had barely even entered Alec’s office before he started yelling, waving the crumpled, fine linen paper bearing the official Seal of the Clave around wildly. 

Alec sighed and leaned back in his chair, lifting his hands to scrub at his face. Sounding absolutely exhausted, he said, “Ah. Jace. I see you got the memo.” 

Jace could feel himself going redder. “Yes, Alec, let’s start with the fact that I found out that I was getting married in a fucking memo! Are you shitting me right now? A memo? What, were you too scared to tell me in person? You had to write it on fucking Clave stationary? This is a joke, right? It’s got to be a joke. What the fuck is going on?” 

The room was quiet for a solid minute, apart from Jace’s furious panting breaths. When Alec still didn’t say anything he lowered the (goddamn) memo and finally looked at his parabatai. Alec’s head was resting on the back of the ornate chair, the very same one that six Heads of the New York Institute had sat in over the course of the last two hundred years, and he was staring blankly into space. There were deep purple bruises under his eyes and permanent frown lines had been carved into his brow and mouth that had slipped Jace’s notice until now. 

Jace’s anger suddenly cooled, and he dropped heavily into the chair in front of Alec’s monstrous desk. Which he now saw was practically buried under paperwork. He said quietly, “Alec, what the hell is going on?”

Alec still didn’t meet his eyes. “How many Shadowhunters have we lost in the last year, Jace? Do you know?”

Jace shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to be reminded of the funerals that somehow had become a normal part of their lives. “I dunno, maybe ten? Why? Demons get lucky sometimes and we die. What does that have to do with me getting married?” Although now Jace was trying to think about when that had happened, when it had become normal to have this many funerals. It hadn’t been like that when they were younger. Right? He was pulled from his thoughts when Alec spoke again. 

“Twelve. We’ve lost twelve Shadowhunters in New York alone, just last year. That’s one a month. And some of the other Institutes have been hit worse. We’re dying, Jace, at an alarming rate.” There was a depth of grief in Alec’s voice that Jace couldn’t understand, more than just the normal loss that all Shadowhunters felt when one of their own died, and he found himself pressing a hand over his parabatai rune, feeling an echo of it deep inside him. 

Alec gestured at the mess on the table in front of him. “Do you know what I’ve been doing the last few weeks? I’ve been combing the archives to see if something like this has happened in the past. I’ve asked Magnus to search his Downworld scrolls to check and the answer is no. The Shadowhunter population has stayed almost completely stable for centuries, regardless of wars or anything else. Something new is going on. Something is killing us off, bit by bit.”

Jace was dumbfounded. “And your solution is to fucking marry me off? To a vampire? In what world does that make any kind of fucking sense?”

“You’re not the only one getting married, Jace. The Clave has ordered a series of marriages to create an alliance with the more prominent groups of Downworlders— warlocks, Seelies, werewolves, and vampires. Izzy, mom, and I are all getting married to Downworlders the same day you are.”

Jace’s head was pounding. “What? The Clave wants all of us to marry Downworlders? Who are you marrying? Who is Izzy marrying? Why are any of us getting married at all?” His voice was getting slightly hysterical but Jace didn’t think he could be blamed for it. Nothing made sense. 

“We are dying, Jace. Something is going on and we need other people to help us stop it and the Downworld is our best option. At this rate, we can’t keep the demon world in check and figure out why we keep getting killed with the number of Shadowhunters we have. We need allies. We need more people on patrol. We need the knowledge the Downworld has that we’ve been ignoring for centuries because of our own stupid prejudices.

“So Izzy’s going to marry a Seelie, I’m marrying a warlock, Mom is marrying a werewolf, and you’re marrying a vampire. This is happening.” Alec’s words were hard and firm.

Jace was reeling and he couldn’t figure out what to comment on first. He fell back to repeating his earlier question. “Who are you marrying? Who is Izzy marrying?” Jace’s eyes widened as he realized that he’d missed something in Alec’s deluge of information. “Wait, who is Maryse marrying?” 

“Izzy is marrying Meliorn, he’s one of the Seelie Queen’s knights.” Jace saw Alec take a deep breath. “I’m marrying Magnus,” Jace started to puff up and Alec spoke louder, “the High Warlock of Brooklyn and the inventor of the Portal. Mom is marrying Luke, the Beta of the New York pack.” 

The knot of rage in Jace's throat was now so large he could barely speak. "So you get to marry your boyfriend and Izzy gets to marry someone she knows and likes and has been sleeping with for six months already, Mom gets to marry her ‘one that got away,’ and I get to marry a stranger. A random-ass vampire. Do I have it right, Alec? Anything I’m missing?”

He watched Alec swallow. Jace was in complete disbelief. “I am missing something, aren’t I. Holy shit, Alec, what else? Is there something I should know about this vampire? Do you even know her name? Anything about her?” Jace could hear himself shouting but didn’t care. 

Alec seemed to shrink down into himself, shoulders curling in for a long moment before he stood up and came around the desk to stand in front of Jace. He straightened into an open battle stance, centered on the balls of his feet and braced for anything. Jace stared up at him. There was an ugly sense of foreboding in his gut. 

Alec's voice was even, no inflection whatsoever, and he was looking past Jace’s head to the far wall. "There tend to be more male vampires than female. I told the Clan that you were bisexual. I don't know if you’re marrying a man or a woman." 

Jace's fist had broken Alec's nose before he had even registered that he'd moved. Alec's head snapped back and blood started to pour out immediately. He’d made no move to defend himself, just rolled with the punch, hands hanging loose at his sides. 

Jace could hear the breath sawing in and out of his lungs and his hand was throbbing in time with the heartbeat thundering in his ears. He looked at his parabatai and saw the acknowledgement of betrayal in Alec’s eyes. And regret and resignation and about five other emotions Jace couldn't identify. 

Alec stood there, unmoving, and the blood slowly dripped down his face as they stared at each other. 

Jace's voice was a croak when he finally spoke. "Is it really that bad?" 

Alec's voice was nasal and choked and he had to clear his throat several times before he could speak. "Magnus and I estimate that all the Shadowhunters in the world will be dead in three years if we don't do something. Maybe less." 

Jace staggered back, moving far away from Alec until he hit the wall of the office.  He slid down until his ass was on the floor. He buried his fingers in his hair and blindly looked at the carpet in front of him. 

He heard Alec sigh and move back around his desk, rattling drawers until he found a handkerchief. Jace watched as Alec put it over his face and set his nose with a crack and a grunt. He made a cursory wipe at the blood and then dropped the handkerchief in the trash bin.

Jace let his head fall back against the wall as Alec walked over and settled down on the floor next to him. They breathed for a few more minutes before Jace spoke. "How could this happen? How come no one has noticed that we're all fucking dying? What the hell, Alec.”

Alec sighed and Jace watched as Alec let his long legs stretch out on the floor before glancing over at him. His voice was tired. “Magnus thinks that there’s some powerful magic going on, some kind of worldwide glamour that makes us, just, look away? Just accept what’s happening and not think about it. Like you did. By the Angel, Jace, you thought that ten Shadowhunters had died last year and you said it like it was no big deal! And in reality it was twelve. One every damn month. There are only a few hundred Shadowhunters at the Institute in the first place. And it’s getting worse. Only six died two years ago.” He huffed out a breath. “Only six.” 

Jace shifted, uncomfortable with the idea that he was under some sort of glamour and didn’t know it. “So how did you notice it?”

Alec’s laugh startled them both. He cut an amused glance at Jace and said, “Magnus says it’s because I’m a workaholic with a giant hard-on for paperwork.” Jace grinned and Alec smirked back before sobering. “Although he’s not really wrong. Do you know how much funerals cost, Jace? It’s a lot. And suddenly the Institute was slowly going broke and I couldn’t figure out why. And then once I started connecting the dots, it was like a veil lifted and everything was clear. Ask Magnus; I freaked out on him pretty badly when I figured it out. He started investigating too and then we reached out to the other Institutes to see if it was just us. It wasn’t. 

“They didn’t actually believe us, at first, either. We had to ask for their funeral records. Those were harder to ignore. We got the Clave involved a few weeks ago and everything has happened pretty fast since then. Even those stubborn asses could see the problem. Magnus and I were able to convince them that with the help of the Downworld, we might have a chance to figure out what the fuck is happening and hopefully not all die before we can. This was the best solution we could come up with to make alliances quickly that couldn’t easily be broken. There will be an amendment to the Accords to include our marriages right now, and then we will rewrite them completely in the future, after this is over. That’s the deal. If this works at all.”

The room went quiet again after Alec finished. They sat there. Jace listened to the clock on Alec’s desk tick softly. Alec didn’t say anything. When Jace glanced over at him, Alec’s head was leaning against the wall and his eyes were closed. He looked almost asleep. Jace was startled to realize that he didn’t remember the last time he and Alec had trained together. Or done much of anything together in the last few weeks. Jace’d been so busy with patrols. And apparently funerals.

Jace closed his eyes. “Okay,” he whispered, “okay, I guess I’ll marry a vampire.” 

There was a touch on his arm. Jace looked down as Alec wrapped a cool, dry hand around his wrist. “Entreat me not to leave thee, or return from following after thee. For whither thou goest, I will go, And where thou lodgest, I will lodge.” Jace heard the words Alec spoke softly reverberate in his head and his parabatai rune burned. 

“Jace, I am sorry. I know you have… complicated feelings towards being bi. I hope it’s not even an issue and that you’ll end up with a woman that you can get along with. I just knew that the Clan might not go for it unless I offered them the option. You know they have weird hierarchies. I couldn’t take the chance. We’re dying and I can’t stop it.” Alec’s hand abruptly tightened on Jace’s arm, becoming a bruising vice grip. “But Jace, you are still my parabatai, your soul is in my soul, and I will be with you through this, every step of the way. And I’ll find a way out of it if we need to. I promise you.” Alec’s voice was fierce before fading away into silence again.

Jace was suddenly exhausted, the maelstrom of emotions coursing through him finally easing, leaving behind bone-deep weariness and a headache behind his temples. Alec’s hand rested on his arm for another minute before dropping away. He looked over and Alec’s eyes were closed again. He wondered when Alec had last slept. The leftover blood still on his face had turned dark brown and was crusted in little flakes around his nostrils. The bruising would be spectacular if it wasn’t healed soon.

“Are you going to use an iratze on your nose.” Jace’s voice was flat, more of a statement than a question.

Alec’s eyes opened a slit and peered over at him. “No,” he said, shortly. His eyes closed again.

Jace felt a small, vicious curl of satisfaction in his gut. He relaxed against the wall and closed his own eyes. “Shit, man. This sucks.”

Alec let out a breathy chuckle. “Yes, Jace. This fucking sucks.” 

[anthropwashere]

our indestructible days ch 3

ch 1 | ch 2

=

Stubborn child! Tenacious little brat!

Pride seethes as he carries his new container up through another ruined, empty floor of Father's home, teeth gnashing at stone and metal. How could one inconsequential human soul cling so stubbornly to its body? Especially after being absorbed into his Philosopher's Stone?

It's lucky the little alchemist is such a mad acrobat, otherwise Pride wouldn't have been able to climb to the surface as quickly as he has, even with his shadows to assist. There's only a floor left between him and the parade field. The light from Father's attack has faded now, but he's still wary of jumping out without having a better idea of the situation out there. The light alone hadn't been enough to damage his Stone, but it had been an altogether painful experience for his true form.

A part of him hates to let those survivors scurry off—all those long years guarding Sloth's tunnel, no doubt—but now isn't the time to hunt down vermin. His Stone has only barely stabilized thanks to those few soldiers he'd consumed. He was able to grow this container a new leg without much strain, but he doubts he'd be much good in a proper fight. He's made the mistake of underestimating humans before. It's not a mistake he's keen on repeating.

He slims his shadows to a few cautious coils, tasting the air. Even up here he can smell the living humans below, soaked in blood and snaking away from the epicenter of things. They could reappear virtually anywhere in Central but he doubts they'll go that far, not with how injured they are. Aside from them there's nothing but corpses down there, which won't do him any good. Thanks to absorbing Gluttony he finds the meat delicious, yes, but it's souls he needs. 

Aboveground is a far different story. He sniffs again and can't help but smirk. There's dozens—no, hundreds of humans gathering up there, rushing around with their hearts racing and sweat salting their warm skin. He smells too, all the silly little guns they're hauling around in some vain hope of stopping Father.

Pride licks his lips, eager now. They want a fight, do they? He may be weak, but he thinks he can at least provide Father a distraction.

He's careful to keep his container out of sight as he peers over the last crumbling edge, curling tendrils into the air and squinting in the brightening daylight. Behind him Central Command is in ruins, as if some enormous hand had come along and taken a scoop out of it. He can smell only a handful of living humans there, most of them bloody and bruised and terrified. Before him a triangular stretch of the parade field is charred black, heat to sting the razor edges of him still rising from it. Greasy smoke smothers the air, reducing visibility to a frustrating few feet. From here he can only make out the woman sacrifice, sprawled nearby and barely conscious. He can smell her pain, the new bruises and welling blood, but it's nothing serious. There's no urgent spike of adrenaline in her blood, no sour snap of broken bone nor the damp heat of exposed organs. She'll live, for now.

The wind shifts. He narrows his eyes, sniffing, and finds the shredded remains of Alphonse Elric's armor a little further off. Beside it is the troublesome Xingese girl, weeping loudly. Has the younger Elric's blood seal broken? Either way, he won't be taking part in this fight any longer, not in the shape he's in.

The woman sacrifice—Izumi, wasn't it?—wakes, coughing roughly. "H-Hohenheim," she forces out, and as if summoned by her voice Father appears before her, so quickly that neither Pride’s eyes nor nose sensed him move. A strong hand grabs Van Hohenheim out of the dust that had obscured him as well, knocking him aside like so much refuse. He lands in a heap some distance off. Pride pays his piteous groaning no mind, relieved to see that Father still has God's power within him.

"Father!" He cries, springing out into the open to present himself. Izumi twitches nearby, straining to see him over her bloodied shoulder.

"You're first," Father says, raising his hand. Red light arcs between his fingertips. Too late, Pride realizes what he means to do—

Pain riots through his container. All his thoughts collapse to panicked static. His newly acquired lungs and heart seize, his every muscle spasms and his every joint locks. He would scream if he could because to have true flesh is to be set on fire. He'd thought the leg bad before, but he'd retreated into his Stone at the first white-hot shock of hurt and here he's pinned in place, nerves flayed, choking on ash—he can't, he isn't, how is it possible to—hurt—so completely? Defense—he—he must defend against—shadows—his self—all gone, he can't think, he can't—

Father is going to kill him—

A gunshot cracks in the distance, and a wound appears in a fizzle of come-and-go alchemical light at Father's temple. Father's concentration breaks. Pride nearly falls on all fours, sucking in dirty air with a relief that unmoors him. He doesn't hesitate, falling back on the instincts of this taken flesh. His hammering heart says run, so he runs. He sprints through the thinning smoke, wanting distance, needing time to get his bearings, needing to understand why Father just tried to kill him—

He ducks behind some heap of rubble near Central Command's wall, pressing his spine against it and shutting his eyes against the acrid sting. He's—he's panicking. He is, isn't he? He's never one to panic. He is first of the homunculi, oldest and strongest and cleverest. He won't—can't—be cowed so easily as this. Even if—even if it was Father that came so close to—

He is one part of a greater whole. This is something he's always known. But it's never occurred to him that Father might one day want that part back.

No. Never mind that. Father had his reasons. He always does. Surely Father only intended to siphon Fullmetal's soul away, to tear the stubborn child out so Pride could have unfettered control over this container—

[Coward.]

Pride freezes—still panting for breath, damn this flesh—and glares with several pairs of eyes. That voice. It shouldn't be possible, and yet— "Just how many of you damned insects are clinging to sentience within my stone?!"

[Oh, it's just Fullmetal and myself in here, and he's not doing too well at the moment.] Kimblee's laughter grates for all that it's not, technically, real. [He doesn't enjoy the company as much as I do.]

In the distance Pride can hear-smell humans shouting, soldiers making a perimeter in some feeble-minded attempt at hemming Father in, barking out nonsensical orders to one another over the bustle and clatter of all their useless weaponry. A man shouts over a megaphone that Fullmetal is not to be confused with Father, which is a relief and in some small way, terribly funny. He watches the clamor with his container's eyes, peering carefully around the crumbling edge of what might have been a bit of the east wing. If he focuses he thinks he can very nearly feel the pinpoints of solidity within his Stone, Kimblee as fine and bright as a needle, Fullmetal a stolid lump fumbling his way back to consciousness at a snail's pace. "I suppose you'll be wanting to fight me for control over this body next?"

[Oh no, not at all. It'd be a poor fit, I think. And besides, I already have a front row seat to the glorious battle going on right now. Just listen to it!]

The attacks are certainly concussive, if nothing else. From his position on the field it only looks like the soldiers are wasting a great deal of ammunition for nothing; Father's glimmering shield is protecting him even from the heat and dust of the blasts. Some soldier down there belts out a command to take cover and scarcely a moment later a gout of flame rushes down the same charred path as Father's earlier attack to engulf the majority of the parade ground in an inferno. It seems that despite his newfound blindness the Flame Alchemist remains unwilling to sit idly by while there's murder and mayhem to sow. Still, it'll take more than that to slow Father down now.

"They stand no chance against him," he mutters aloud. The plan has fallen apart, perhaps disastrously so, but Father will win. It's only a matter of time.

[No chance?] Kimblee asks, pausing when another gout of flame explodes across the parade field. This one Father catches as easily as a child's toy and sends it right back. Even after that display, amusement curls Kimblee's voice. Infuriating creature. [You say there's no chance, that you homunculi are so much better than humans, but what's Greed without his human vessel? What are you?]

"I am Pride the Arro—"

[Just the two of you left now, and that only thanks to the humans you've attached yourselves to. You claim to be higher life forms, yet you're really nothing more than parasites. How disappointing.]

"I won't die here! Whatever the cost, I refuse to die today!"

[And if your Father willed it otherwise?]

He flinches, and loathes this treacherous body all the more.

[He seemed eager enough to kill you a moment ago,] Kimblee goes on cheerfully, [Yet you turned tail and ran away the second you could. You were named for your dignity as much as your arrogance, yet all you've proven today is that you're a hypocrite and a coward.]

"BE SILENT, KIMBLEE!"

[Mmph.] The Fullmetal lump shifts within his Stone, waking up properly. Pride very nearly throws his hands up in exasperation. [Ah, hell. That hurt. What happened?]

[Welcome back, Edward. I wasn't sure you'd be joining us again.]

Pride curls his mouth irritably, digs dirty nails into the stone's crumbling edge. The automail arm only twitches at his side, still stubbornly resistant to his will. "How many times must I put you in your place until you stay there?"

[Ha. At least one more. Where are we?] 

Pride has no chance to reply before his control is tugged away from him. Edward Elric wavers, bracing himself with both hands against the same stretch of scorched stone. Pride's connection to the container and all its startling sensations remains; a sour tang of nausea burns their shared throat, dizziness makes their pulse pound in their ears, a line of sweat down their spine makes them shiver. Edward directs their eyes about the parade field and back to Central Command, taking in the splendor of Father's power. Their ears ache with the ceaseless crack and boom of gunfire.

"Holy shit,” Edward breathes.

With a growl of displeasure Pride pushes back and retakes control. The boy's too stunned to put up more than a token resistance, one that's easily brushed aside. Pride smiles, licking the new configuration of his teeth. "Do you understand now? Do you see what Father is capable of, despite all your little tricks? Are you still so certain you'll win?"

Kimblee whispers, so quietly that Edward seems not to hear, [Are you?]

[Of course I am,] Edward retorts, and while he's unable to wrestle control of his body back he does manage a few of the eyes circling at their feet. Their shared vision wobbles and blurs, and Edward grumbles. [Jeez, how can you stand this? I think I'm gonna puke.]

"Then stop it."

[Nah.] Their shadow twitches, an inelegant lurch that nevertheless forces one of their eyes to loll, and in just such a way that it glimpses Edward's bare left foot. Through their mutable connection of his Stone Pride feels the stuttering evolution of Edward's reaction—dumbfounded, denying, horrified, furious. Their mouth opens against his will and Edward's snarl froths out. "My—my leg. It's—the automail—it's gone. You—you son of a bitch! You really cut it off?!"

[It was slowing me down,] Pride replies calmly, content for the moment to take refuge in his Stone. It almost feels as he did in his Selim container this way; placid, unflappable, controlled. [You're welcome, by the way. I saved you the trouble of trying to get back the original one.]

"Wh—That's not the point! Al and I made a promise! After we found out the cost of making a Philosopher's Stone we promised not to use one for ourselves! We never wanted to be so selfish as to use another life to fix our mistake! Al and I—we—I didn't...."

Edward's inhale is a shaky mess. He sways again, gritting his teeth. It seems he has a new tendency to speak through more than one mouth if he lets his anger get the better of him. How interesting. Pride certainly hadn't manifested one of the three thin mouths in their shadow. Edward bends at their waist to brush their left hand across their new knee cap, draws a line down their shin, splays their toes on the sun-warmed concrete. Pride feels each sensation like a static shock, which isn't half so bizarre as the curdled snatches of Edward's thoughts he absorbs secondhand. Nerve damage—phantom pain in the night—gone, it's gone, he shouldn't feel anything because it's gone—Granny said the cold would be harder on him—cold night spent lying awake, teeth gritted, muscles aching—no amount of massaging around the ports ever helped—Al's metallic voice, "Did you dream about Mom again—"

Pride retreats deeper into his Stone, startled by how real that felt. The ever-groaning souls inside him keep their distance from his toothsome shape—all but Kimblee, who sidles up to him with an overly familiar grin. 

Outside, Edward reins in his anger enough to ask, "Where's Alphonse?"

[In pieces,] he replies sullenly, and finds base satisfaction in the diminished jolt of panic he feels from the boy. [The Xingese girl has been using what's left of his armor as a shield—]

Red light crackles in their shared vision and a feeling not unlike a brand burns his Philosopher's Stone. He writhes within and without, as much from shock as from pain. When he can see clearly again Edward's braced against the rubble, breathing raggedly. "Shut up," he growls.

[You're so willing to be free of me you'll hurt yourself to do it?] Pride marvels. 

"Shut up," Edward repeats, a mouth splitting in their shadow to hiss the same. "You too, Kimblee."

[I didn't say anything.]

"I can feel how much you're enjoying this." He spits, wiping their mouth with the back of his automail hand, then begins a clumsy half-jog back into the thick of things. There's no telling if it's the new leg or their shadow nipping at their heels giving him more trouble.

[Where are you going?] Pride demands. [What do you intend to do?]

"I'm gonna find Al, then I'm gonna make that bastard pay."

[If you confront him, Father will take my Stone for sure!]

"Good. Let him take care of you for me!"

[He'll kill you too!]

"I don't care!" Edward picks up speed, keeping low and favoring their new leg. When Pride opens a train of eyes in their shadow Edward trips, slapping a hand over their container's eyes with a curse. Nausea tongues his Stone, altogether unpleasant. "I gotta make sure Al's okay!"

[Damn you!] For all that he tries to wrest back control Edward just hangs on to himself harder. Pride rages, scattering souls like gravel beneath the wild sweep of his awareness. Edward snarls back and picks up speed.

[Such dedication!] Kimblee exults, a white sore in his Stone. [Such drive! He really is an admirable creature, isn't? Put a fire under him and he'll burn himself gladly for the chance to keep those he cares for out of it!]

[Be quiet!]

Kimblee calms, raising one unimpressed eyebrow. [Why should I listen to you? A pitiful homunculus who couldn't keep a single human under heel?]

Pride seethes.

[seonghwahugs]

two black cadillacs

inspired by carrie underwood’s song of the same name. not proofread.

cw for murder/homicide, cheating

♟♟♟

Two black Cadillacs driving in a slow parade

Headlights shining bright in the middle of the day...

Hyunjin adjusted his tie, foot settled on the brake pedal as the procession prepared to move. Despite sitting directly behind the hearse carrying the body of his late husband inside he felt no loss, no pain, there was no need to grieve. Behind him was another car identical to his own, a 1969 black Cadillac. Who would’ve thought that the other man would own the same car. It was only four in the evening yet it felt so much later, the cloud cover darkening the world around them. 

The procession lasted about half an hour, the drive usually much longer with traffic. But, as a funeral procession, the laws of the road were bent and broken to accommodate them. To accommodate the supposedly grieving family, the hearse carrying their body. 

If only his family knew what he was hiding.

Hyunjin stepped out of the car, adjusting his long coat and veil. It was unusual for a man to wear a veil but he was always known to do things how he felt was right, not abiding by the standards set around him. It was one of the many reasons he and his husband had fallen in love, bonding over their desire to make their own path and not follow that of another person. He made his way to his mother in law, embracing her as she cried and held him close.

If only she knew what they were both hiding.

Two months ago, his wife called the number on his phone…

“I need to shower, it was a long sweaty day.” His husband had said with a playful smile, leaving a kiss upon his forehead. Hyunjin made a sound of mock disgust as he came close, waving his hand in front of his nose with an exaggerated ‘ew, you smell!’ He couldn’t contain his laugh though, pulling his husband down for a true kiss, melting into the hand that cupped his cheek. 

“I’m going now.” His husband said as he pulled away, walking up the stairs to the master bath for a much needed shower. Hyunjin took this time to grab his phone from the coffee table and typed in the passcode, opening the phone app and searching through his recent calls. There were multiple calls made to a single unsaved number, most of them when Hyunjin was already asleep or on days he was out at work. He’d been suspecting something for weeks but his stomach dropped at the thought of his suspicions being correct.

Slipping out to the front porch he hit the green call button, gnawing on the edge of his thumb as the phone rang once, twice, three times, finally being answered on the fourth ring.

“Ah, babe, I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to call this early! I was just about to make some dinner, would you-”

“Who is this?” Hyunjin cut the other man off, his voice cold yet shaky. “Who are you to call my husband babe?”

There was a beat of silence before he got a reply. 

“Husband? He..he said he was single..said the man in his photos was an ex boyfriend from high school…” The man’s voice sounded a bit fearful. “I swear to you I’m not a homewrecker, he told me he didn’t have anyone else!”

Hyunjin stayed quiet for a while, thinking over what to say. Everything was beginning to make sense, all the nights he’d wake up in a cold bed, the extended work days, the constant overtime with no extra pay (despite his company policy stating that all overtime was paid.)

“How long?”

“Have we been together?”

“Yeah, how long?”

“Seven months. He..actually just proposed to me a week and a half ago. It looks like a pretty expensive ring too-” 

Hyunjin let out a humorless laugh. “So that’s where our money went, lying bastard. He told me his friend needed to borrow some for car repairs. And I didn’t question it, his friend has two little ones and taking the bus with them is a hassle.” He took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before exhaling.

“What’s your name? We may as well know who he’s been with.”

“Lee Minho.”

“Hwang Hyunjin.”

“Hwang? But isn’t his surname Yeo?” 

“He’s not going to be my husband much longer. I’m not keeping his last name.” 

“Understandable.” There was a long pause from the other, as if he was thinking about something, processing.

They decided then, he’d never get away with doing this to them

Two black Cadillacs waiting for the right time, the right time

“What if we handle this ourselves?” He finally asked, a dark edge to his voice. Hyunjin knew that kind of tone, knew what he was insinuating. And damn, he’d never think to do something like that but he couldn’t deny that it sounded awfully tempting. 

“I’ll text you from my number. Let’s meet, you and I.”

The two made their way over to the set up chairs and Hyunjin held the woman’s hand tight, whispering a soothing ‘it’s okay mama, he’s in a better place now. No one can hurt him anymore.’ After about ten minutes of everyone seating themselves and the preacher making his way to the podium, it was time to give the eulogies. 

And the preacher said he was a good man…

“Today we are gathered to lay to rest one of the best men I’ve ever known.” 

And his brother said he was a good friend…

“My brother, you see, he was an amazing friend. Outgoing and loveable-”

But the women in the two black veils didn't bother to cry…

Everyone around Hyunjin was crying, whether it was loud and sniffly, or a silent tears-and-shoulder-shaking cry. But he wasn’t. He wouldn’t dare cry for that man, not after what he did, how he treated him. Months of lying after they’d agree honesty was the most crucial part of their marriage. When it came time for the burial Hyunjin stood, his disinterested gaze hidden by the dark veil over his face. It’s not like anyone would question his way of ‘mourning’, why would they? Who would think to question the deceased man’s husband?

They took turns laying a rose down…

Hyunjin’s eyes scanned the crowd of people, landing on an unfamiliar man standing in the back, a veil covering his face as well and an umbrella in his hand. 

Lee Minho.

Hyunjin nodded for him to come closer, the two gently plucking roses from the pile and laying them on the casket before stepping away to allow others to follow suit. 

“Funny meeting you here.” Minho remarked softly, Hyunjin’s lips twitching up at his monotone voice making such a remark. 

“Thought I wouldn’t see you after that day.” Hyunjin admitted, turning to look at him. While their eyes were hidden it wasn’t hard to see the crimson red on their lips through the fabric. 

“I know. But..I doubt we’ll see each other after this. I’m moving out of the country with my godson, he wants to attend an international high school in France but his parents can’t leave work.” Minho explained. “And, well, it was my car that did it that night, even though you were driving.” 

The two didn’t plan to meet for coffee, or a meal, or anything domestic like that. They planned to meet only to end things between them and the man they shared. Hyunjin tricked his husband into thinking they were going on a date, a surprise that the younger man had planned for him. 

It would be quite a surprise.

They chose an old bar, a wide alleyway behind it that separated it from an old, abandoned apartment complex. No cameras, no lights, nothing that could identify them. Minho waited around the corner in the passenger seat of his car, leaving it running for the other. It was his husband after all, he should be the one to step on the gas. 

Hyunjin parked his Cadillac further behind Minho’s, stepping out of the car and linking arms with his husband. They strode past Minho, the two sharing a look before Hyunjin began speaking to his husband. 

“We’re going in the back door, I know someone here and she’s going to give us a private room. I know waiting in an alley is...kinda gross but it won’t be long.” He explained as they turned into the dark alleyway, walking to the end of it.

“Darling you’ve led me into weirder situations, if we get a private room-” He slid his hands down his hips, “then it’s a-okay with me.” 

Hyunjin only winked and gave him a sickly sweet smile, toes curling in his boots since he couldn’t clench his fists. They stood there for a couple minutes, the cold biting their skin before the long haired male gasped. 

“Ah hell, I left my wallet! I’m going to go get it and I’ll be back.” 

“Don’t take too long! I don’t want to miss you too much.” His husband smiled, pulling him in for a quick kiss. 

“I won’t be long, just wait here.” And with that Hyunjin was gone, dashing out of the alleyway. He all but ran to Minho and his Cadillac, sliding into the driver’s seat and sucking in a deep breath. The two men were quiet for a minute before daring to do something they’d never thought they would, leaning in to share a deep kiss. 

“I guess this is it, isn’t it? We’re really doing this?” Hyunjin asked against Minho’s lips, holding his hand and slotting their fingers together.”

“This is it. Once we do this, there’s no going back.” Minho whispered, kissing him again before sitting back in his seat and slipping his seatbelt on. “Put your belt on, he’s the only one getting hurt tonight.”

Hyunjin clicked his belt into place, put the car in drive, and circled the corner. 

The man didn’t even have time to scream.

“That it was. But..I would like to see you at least one more time.” Hyunjin whispered before walking away.

Threw a handful of dirt into the deep ground…

Minho followed closely behind the now widowed man, the two taking turns throwing a handful of dirt on the now lowered casket. They took one last look at it and walked away, allowing others to do the same.

He’s not the only one who had a secret to hide…

They knew life wouldn’t be the same. If they were caught they’d be charged with murder, and even if they exceeded the fifteen year limit they would still live with it on their conscious. But what was done was done and that was the end. No going back. No second chance. They did have each other though, if they wanted, if they were willing.

The two shared a crimson smile and just walked away…

The two waited until they were sure no one was looking, lifting their veils for a mere second to share a kiss, letting them fall back to cover their faces once again. With a dark, thin lipped smile they walked away from each other, towards their separate Cadillacs. No one noticed when the two departed together, tailing each other. 

And left the secret at the grave.

[artificialqueens]

Until the Flavor's Gone, 18/? (Biadore) - Kitschy Pixel

A/N: Well. Hello. I realize it’s been a very long time. I’ve been busy and also? This chapter was just a pain for so many reasons. I hope it was worth the wait though! Many thanks to Veronica for looking over this and making sure it wasn’t just a garbled mess. Feel free to follow me @kitschypixel because sometimes I post stuff.

In this chapter, it’s time to face the aftermath of the night before, and everyone does a little bit of soul searching. Let’s talk about feelings, shall we?

No real warnings expect for the usual excessive swearing, references to drug use, and a reminder that everyone flirts with everyone.

Chapter 18

Shane felt good. Nope. Shane felt great. Sated, satisfied, sensuous, salacious, showered. He felt it all right now and it was nothing short of fantastic. He hummed to himself as he leisurely walked down the hallway to Danny’s hotel room, his gait turning into a skip as he rushed to catch the very person he had to thank for his wonderful evening.

Roy lifted his head and instinctively wrapped an arm around as Shane bounded into him, chin to his shoulder and nose to his neck. “You’re chipper. Feel better?”

“Fan-tas-tic…” Shane purred before he pulled away and took Roy’s face in his palms. “You’re an angel.”

“Haven’t heard that one before,” Roy quipped, fingers tapping on Shane’s wrists. “I need to get going.”

Shane rolled his eyes and offered up a cheeky little grin that made his eyes sparkle a little with mischief. “Right. Of course. Don’t let me keep you.”

“It’s tempting,” Roy mused, just short of under his breath, flicking his eyes to Shane’s face to gauge his reaction. Shane shrugged, sparing Roy his opinion, smacking his lips together instead as he leaned back against the hotel door. Roy raised an eyebrow, “That it?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, right.”

Shane lifted his hands up in surrender. “Listen. If you want to spend the rest of your life with generic underwear model number 5, you certainly don’t have to fight for my blessing. Do what you want as long as you’re happy,” he paused for a beat, pursed his lips and tilted his head. “Are you happy?”

Roy stumbled a bit on his answer, which was still wrought with sarcasm, “Sunshine and roses.”

Shane snorted back a laugh before curling his upper lip over his teeth and clamping his mouth shut tight. He mulled it all over, taking in the way Roy dawdled about and searched for ways to extend the conversation. “Okay…” he hummed. “If you’re dead set on ruining my wonderful night by needing my opinion, let’s head to the lobby.”

“Oh please, you love giving your opinion…”

Shane flicked Roy lightly on the cheek in protest but said nothing else as they both headed to the elevator. Their trip to the lobby was quiet, and the conversation didn’t pick back up until Roy checked his phone, making a show at calculating how much time he had left.

“You could just not go, you know. Just stay here. We can find space for you in one of the rooms.”

“Choose Boston over New Orleans?”

“Or choose spending time with friends who care about you instead of some petulant brat who wants to make you something you already said you aren’t,” Shane shot back, which made Roy laugh as he sat back into one of the lobby sofas that was a bit too stiff and a bit too deep to be reasonably comfortable. He chose to slouch at an odd angle to keep his feet touching the ground as Shane curled up beside him, elbow on the cushion above Roy’s head.

“Tell me how you really feel.”

“That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? My expert advice on your shit relationship?” Shane asked with a smile and a few coy bats of his eyelashes. “Remind me what you did that prompted this rather sudden trip to New Orleans that just had to happen when two of your closest friends – one you’ve had a past sexual relationship with and the other you could have had if you weren’t such a coward – ah!” He reached out and pressed his finger to Roy’s lips and shushed the protest, “Don’t argue with me when I’m making a point. Which was… oh yes! Your sudden need to leave town because we were going to be in New York and wanted to see you.” He snapped his fingers and looked heavenward. “A small vacation in your home town just seems like a very big apologetic gesture for you… and for what? Getting jerked off by some stranger in a bar bathroom?”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘cheating’,” Roy remarked as he stared blankly at the exit, suddenly reconsidering if he should have stayed for this.

“Cheating? I’m sorry, did you actually promise to be exclusive with this one? You never do that.”

“I… no. It was just… eventually assumed,” Roy closed his eyes to ignore the sharp ‘by him’ that Shane inserted before continuing, “I was hoping this would work.”

“Why? Do you actually see a future with this guy?”

Roy shrugged a shoulder, whispering a soft ‘probably not’.

“Mmm… okay.” Roy shifted a bit as Shane seemed to absent-mindedly play with his hair, the pads of his fingers brushing his ear in a way that Roy was fine with. “You wanna know what I think?” Shane grinned at Roy’s eye roll. “I think you can find better ways to spend your time than trying to keep up with some young trade that’s… what? Ten years younger? Who you’re just going to get bored with because he wants to challenge you in all the wrong ways.”

“I’ve been with younger.”

“Yeah, I know. They’re sleeping upstairs. Also? Not my point.” Shane frowned as he tilted his head. “Be honest with me. Why try to make this work? Why do you even want to? You’re not exactly the long term relationship type. Is it about sex, loneliness? What?”

Roy jerked his head away slightly to shimmy upwards so his back could be a little straighter. He pressed his lips tightly together to delay speaking for just a few more minutes and Shane began to think he just wasn’t going to answer. Then, slowly, with a voice uncharacteristically soft, he replied, “I don’t want to be that guy–” he gestured upwards before Shane got a chance to implore further. “The guy who does that to someone.”

Shane’s lips twitched into a smile as the pieces to Roy’s predicament started to click together and he shook his head. “Well look at you, growing a conscience… and you can’t even do that right.” He ignored Roy’s scoff and continued, talking over any argument that Roy had ready, “You are not the same as Danny’s ex. You didn’t make promises and you didn’t lie when you got caught breaking them. You just did what you always do. You decided to like a guy, got bored, and fessed up. You don’t need to make yourself miserable with someone who wants some different version of you to prove yourself. Some of us like you just the way you are.”

Roy wrinkled his nose a bit, pressing his tongue to the side of his cheek before he sat back up and stretched, cracking his back. “Well… that was gross and sappy.”

“You wanted my opinion!”

“Yeah. I thought you were going to be an asshole. Not pull this Mr. Rogers shit.”

Shane lightly swatted Roy on the arm, “See if I help you again then, you dusty old cunt!”

Roy caught Shane’s hand and pulled him forward into some kind of half hug, index finger to his chin as he released him. His eyes sparkled with a look that stirred up memories of flirting during fittings and the exchange of phone numbers from years ago. Shane squirmed a little and in a flash, it was gone as Roy broke away and gathered himself up to finally leave.

“Are you going to make your flight?”

Roy shook his head, a strange smile playing at the edge of his lips as he slung his carry on bag over his shoulder, “What flight?”

Shane’s eyes widened as he caught on quick, “Ahhhh,” he held up a finger and aimed it towards Roy, whose smile only turned into a wicked little smirk as if he was the most clever person in the world, “You never had to re-route a flight, did you?” Roy shook his head, “Because you two have already broken up.” A nod. Shane lifted his foot in a poorly executed kick in Roy’s direction, barely brushing his knee. “When?”

“After you called. We had a fight. I might’ve told him he wouldn’t be so insecure if he put out more. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s a bit of a blur.”

“You’re such a dick.”

“Yes, well…” Roy just made a vague hand gesture into the wind and shrugged the whole thing off. “Don’t tell him, okay?”

“What? That you’re a dick? I’m pretty sure he already knows, but I’ll pull it from the newsletter.”

Roy rolled his eyes and shook his head, “No. I mean… you know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” Shane leaned forward with his chin on his knuckles and an angelic smile on his face, “Your secret’s safe for now. Go. Be a free, single man! Even though you could easily just stay here and be free and single with us.”

“Can’t. I do have an actual ride back that I need to get to before he leaves without me.”

“Ooooh, what kind of ride? Do I know him? Is he cute?”

“None of your fucking business!”

“So you should introduce me!”

“You wish!”

Shane blew a kiss and winked from where he was still perched as Roy retreated towards the door with a cackle and a middle finger. Shane watched him disappear, blinking a few times when he realized he was biting lightly at his bottom lip and wiped the slightly goofy grin from his face. He cleared his throat and looked upwards before making his way back to Danny’s room to provide a much needed wake-up call.

––––

The first thing Danny became aware of was the smell of a very familiar coconut-based body wash that seemed to wrap around him and make him smile. He groaned and dissolved into a fit of giggles seconds later, wiping at his cheek and craning his neck to grin at his new guest. “If you’re gonna use tongue to wake me, just give me a blow job.”

There was a light laugh and a soft hum as the arms around his waist loosened a little with a playful nip at his ear. “Crude but tempting. I’ll consider it for next time.”

“Finally,” Danny replied with a dreamy sigh before another set of giggles bubbled forward. He pulled away so he could turn over, facing a rather blissful Shane laying next to him. “You look happy.”

“I’m just relieved you got some proper sleep.”

“Shut up. You got dick.”

Shane wrinkled his nose and stuck his tongue out before sitting up and leaning back against the headboard. “Lady never tells.”

“Good thing you’re a slut. Fess up! Was he hot?”

“Gorgeous. Didn’t mind the drag either, which saved a lot of time for other things. Okay kisser, nice dick, great sex – very eager – and I still had time to shower before getting back here. Ideal night.”

“I’m glad Roy could give you the night off.” Danny shot a glance to Shane’s face and watched his reaction. Shane blinked and opened his mouth to possibly deny Danny’s insinuation before simply closing it and offering a quiet apology. He curled around Shane’s lap, cheek against his thigh, “I get it, I wasn’t being fair.”

“Mmm… he didn’t scar you for life or anything, did he?”

“Who? Roy?” Danny lifted his head a little as Shane hummed again in affirmation. “No,” Danny continued, pressing his lips tightly together before rolling onto his back and staring at the hotel ceiling. “He was actually not bad given… you know… the emotions.”

“I see he got you to wash your hair, though.”

“Ugh. He helped me wash it in the empty bathtub. It was so gross and humiliating. I cried about everything.” Danny paused for a beat to cringe, lip curling up in disgust with himself as the memories from the night before washed over him in a fresh, chilled wave of shame. He closed his eyes tightly and groaned, bringing his fingers to his eyes and pressing hard against them. “Fuck… I don’t know how I’m going to face him again.”

Shane reached over to gently wrap Danny’s freshly cleaned hair around the tip of his index finger before sighing, “He’s probably been in similar or worse circumstances, you know.”

“Yeah… funny how that doesn’t make me feel any better,” Danny spat out a little before he dropped his hand to his side and tilted his head a little to catch Shane’s slight eye roll. “Fuck. And I’m still being an asshole to you.”

“A bit, yeah…”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” Danny’s eyes combed through the rather passive expression on Shane’s face – searching out an answer that the current silence wasn’t giving him before he propped himself up onto his elbows and groaned again. “Yeah, don’t answer that,” he muttered before he shimmied himself up slowly to sit upright, only to hunch forward and stare at himself in the obnoxiously large mirror that was across from them both.

The silence persisted until finally, Shane spoke up – slow and deliberate and delicate. “Question. Was it really that terrible to see him last night?”

“Yes!” Danny rolled his eyes, the light smile tempering the horror he still clutched to tightly. “I felt like such a child. You try getting a sponge bath from a guy you used to fuck, see how you feel.”

“Hot.”

“Oh fuck off. Don’t make it weird.”

“Mmm… think it’s a bit late for that.”

Danny pressed his middle finger to his temple, laughing in spite of himself before giving voice to a thought that’d laid dormant from when he first saw Roy again last night to now. “Hey… how’d you even get him here?”

“Oh, easy. I asked.”

“… so… you didn’t tell him about… was it Philly?”

“Cleveland.”

“Fuck. I knew it.”

“And no, I didn’t.” Shane sighed, reaching out to fuss with some stray strands of Danny’s hair. “I just told him I was worried. That’s all.” He tilted his head as he watched Danny visibly process the information. “You know how it is. You badger him enough and he can be reliable to a fault.”

Danny dropped the subject with a quiet, ‘yeah’, before shifting to the present with a few slow blinks and small shake to his head. “Made me realize this tour was a bad idea…” He picked up his phone and stared at it.

“You need a moment alone?”

“No..” Danny shifted so he could curl against Shane with the phone to his ear, finding an anchor as he waited for his tour manager to answer.

––––

The months after Boston, Danny had been dealing with the aftermath – clawing out of rock bottom and facing the consequences. He’d been so busy trying to do damage control so he could pick up his tour once it was rescheduled that he neglected one little loose end that he knew he had to handle at some point.

Roy.

He’d been ignoring the text messages so far, not really ready to relive the humiliation of that night in the form of an apology he knew he owed. And when he saw Roy’s status on social media turn to “single”? Well… now he just felt guilty, as if he’d somehow been at fault (even if that was irrational).

So he’d gone through his day to day, checking his phone when a message pinged, trying to get his attention, and every time thinking “I should reply”, before overthinking it and then saying nothing at all. That is, until:

Call me.

It was weird for Roy to be so blunt, and the more he looked at it, the more he began to panic a little. What if there was something serious? What if he was hurt or someone they knew was in the hospital? The number of scenarios running through Danny’s head as he stared at those two words got more and more outlandishly dire until finally…

“Hello?”

“You said ‘call me’, are you okay? Is someone dead? Do I need to fight someone? What happened?”

“No one’s dead. I just wanted to talk to you, calm down.”

Danny’s panic left him in a slow sigh as Roy started giggling through the phone, “Shut up! Everyone knows that ‘call me’ with a period means there’s like… someone’s dead and you might need an alibi level of emergency!”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone!”

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but everything is fine. Gotcha on the phone though.”

Danny sat still on his bed, squinting at nothing, just picturing the shit eating grin plastered on Roy’s face. “You fucking dick.”

There was a cackle on the other side, which helped break this weird tension in Danny’s chest as he started to recline back into his bed. Of course Roy would make it easy – for Danny to just slide past the consequences and back into the jokes and random rambling that kept them friends. No expectations of apologies or explanations. Just a reset button and a fresh start.

And Danny couldn’t do it.

He was quiet as Roy’s laughter petered out in soft little giggles, took a breath, and braced himself for ice water.

“Sorry I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Eh,” Danny could hear Roy shuffle his phone from one ear to another, “It’s fine–”

“It’s not though!” Danny shot up and started to pace. “It was a shit thing to do…”

“Dan-”

“No! No. I… gotta do this.” He took a breath and sat back down, still fidgeting as he tried to focus on what he’d been trying to script for the past few months. When that failed, he winged it. “I was embarrassed that you like… showed up and saw me like that. It’s not your job to like… take care of me or whatever the fuck – and don’t say it’s no big deal because it fucking is! It wasn’t fun, it wasn’t cute, I was a fucking nightmare and – would you stop laughing for two seconds!?”

Roy’s giggles had started up again in the midst of Danny baring his soul – be it from disbelief, nerves from the seriousness of the moment, or maybe a mixture of the two. Danny could hear him clear his throat and take a pause before urging him to continue with a very soft ‘go on’.

“Thank you, what was I saying?”

“I think you were being way too harsh on yourself.”

“Oh yeah? And how do you figure that?”

There was another long pause and Danny could picture Roy’s hesitance. But Danny stood his ground. This conversation wasn’t going to end just because Roy didn’t want to have it.

“Everyone does stupid shit in the midst of a break-up. So maybe your stupid shit involved you getting high as fuck and not bathing for longer than usual. And maybe you fucking freaked out Courtney, which I guess freaked out me because – Jesus Christ – what were you taking that was freaking out Courtney of all people? So yeah, maybe I wasn’t overly thrilled to be like… hosing you down in a hotel bathroom because you were smelling like sweat and corn chips but… it happened. Because I was worried a little bit. Okay? So like… it’s fine.”

“But it’s not fine.”

“Did I just reset this conversation? What the fuck are you looking for?”

Danny groaned, biting his lip before heaving a huge sigh to finally put words towards something that had been weighing on him for months. “That trip… you coming to see me… you said you and what’s-his-face were… not fine, but like… going to be okay. Or you were making it work. Or… something. And then after… next thing I know, you guys broke up…”

“Okay? What about it?”

“Did you break up because you came to see me? Because I know he wasn’t really thrilled about like… our past or whatever and– and you’re fucking laughing again!”

Roy sucked back his giggles and with a high pitched ‘sorry’, allowed Danny to continue. Danny huffed and then blurted out the last part of his sentence, “Anyway, if you need me to talk to him, to like, tell him that nothing happened between us aside from me making an absolute ass out of myself, I can… or whatever.”

The cackles that erupted made Danny’s cheeks burn and he pouted at his phone. “Or you can just laugh at me!”

“No! No no no… okay. I’m sorry. Alright? I’m sorry for laughing. Hold on.” Roy sucked back a breath and let his voice settle after a few exaggerated renditions of “I’m not laughing at you.” As Danny was about to call bullshit, Roy had managed to wrestle his voice back to a natural pitch. “No! I’m serious. I’m not laughing at you. It has… nothing to do with you, really. Any of it.”

“Any of it?”

“Not a bit.”

“So… you mean… you didn’t break up because he was a jealous twat?”

“Oh, no. We broke up for that exact reason and then some, but it absolutely had nothing to do with me coming to see you.”

“Oh… so… when you said that things were going to be fine?”

“I don’t actually recall you asking if things were fine between me and him. You asked if I was happy. Those are two different things.”

Danny frowned as he tried his best to shuffle through the rather muddled events from that night, and upon coming up with nothing, he conceded. “I don’t remember now…”

“Right,” Roy remarked, the smile conveyed in his voice. “Is this what you’ve been torturing yourself with these past few months?”

“I… maybe?”

“Uh huh.” The silence between the both of them had settled and stretched, past the point of awkward into familiar, before finally, Roy spoke up again. “So… are we actually good now?”

“Yeah…”

“Great. So do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Can we take a break from talking about our feelings for like… awhile? Because frankly, it’s fucking exhausting. I’m not built for this bullshit.”

That got Danny to laugh, and amidst his giggles, he managed to voice an enthusiastic “Deal!” before they said their goodbyes.

[armywriter2605]

The Words You Uttered - Chapter 1

Masterlist

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↳ Pairing: Namjoon (RM) x fem!reader, Yoongi (Suga) x fem!reader

↳ Genre(s): fluff; LOTS of angst; eventually smut, idol!BTS x reader; Swearing / cursing

↳ Rating: 18+

↳ Summary: Stress had been getting to Namjoon, yet when he explodes and says everything that had been in his mind, you’re left broken. When you come to the realization that maybe he was right, and do as he says, Namjoon starts to understand that everything he said was the exact opposite of what he truly wanted and that he needed to fix things between the both of you before it was too late. Maybe it already was, specially when there was someone else there to fix your broken heart.

↳ Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

It had been almost nine months since you had last seen your boyfriend face to face. You had missed him more than anything, and even though you had been calling, talking or face timing it just wasn’t the same.

Namjoon and you had been dating for almost 3 years now, which was the longest relationship you’d ever had, given the fact it was your first relationship in general. In the beginning everything had been perfect. The dates, the calls, the attention and affection both of you shared and showed each other. Everything had been okay until half a year ago. The ‘I love you’ that was once a spoken promise between you two, felt foreign more with each time you said it. It wasn’t because you loved him less, but the way he reacted to it was what forced you to sometimes, not open your mouth at all.

“Joonie, I love you!” You said as you stared at your phone, the face of your boyfriend filling the small screen.

“Mhm, alright. I need to leave now. Bye. Talk to you later, I guess.” He said as a forced smile took over his lips, before your phone turned dark, him ending the call as soon as it started.

You weren’t sure as to why he wouldn’t say it back. It worried you, but you had always trusted Namjoon. There could be many factors affecting him such as the stress from the tour and concerts or perhaps he was homesick and saying it only made it worse. There could be many things going on and maybe he simply didn’t want to stress you out as well. The relationship you two had been built on trust and you weren’t going to ruin that. Such thoughts filled your head every single day, yet you never managed to bring it up with Namjoon. You had talked with Hoseok, Yoongi and Jin about it and mentioned it to the younger members too, but you always made them promise not to tell him anything. And they didn’t. They noticed the change in their leader’s behavior yet tried to ignore it. They too believed it could just be small things that they shouldn’t put their own noses into. Whenever Namjoon was struggling he always opened up to them. They just had to wait until he was ready to finally open up the Pandora box that was consuming him.

Despite that, the younger boys always tried to bring the topic up. Small mentions or comments left their mouths from time to time, but Namjoon never missed them. He heard them loud and clear every single time even though he pretended not to. He knew he was acting cold to you, but he couldn’t help it. In his mind, his actions were justified. Was it the long texts you were sending him every day? Or the calls? Maybe it was the need he knew you felt. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on exactly what it was or the actions that were causing him to act this way, but in the back of his head he had the perfect two words for it. Needy and clingy. He knew those words were harsh and mean, but it wasn’t his fault. How could it be? You were the one acting that way yourself. The way you told him you couldn’t wait for him to get home. The way you called him because you wanted to talk. Every little thing that you did or said was ticking him off even more. That was why he longed to end the calls, or barely texted you back. Because he knew it was a matter of time until he exploded and your whole heart was shattered.

Namjoon couldn’t do that to you. Breaking your heart, would break his too. Despite the feelings he was feeling now, he knew that he loved you. He just wished you could be less…clingy, needy…annoying.

“Hyung, is everything okay?” Jimin asked as soon one of their concerts was done. It was almost impossible to miss how tense Namjoon had been or how agitated he seemed to be around everyone. Was everything with you really that bad and affecting him that much?

“Everything is okay, Jimin.” He simply replied as he made his way to the changing room, not giving any of the members or staff a second glance.

The last months of their tour had been like that. An enormous tension between the boys and their leader, who seemed to put on a mask whenever he entered the stage. They wanted this awful mood of their leader to just vanish, but they also knew it wouldn’t. Not until everything was fixed, and that meant you and Namjoon would have to talk urgently. Fix everything that was wrong in between you and be back to your normal lovey dovey relationship. Yet how could you fix something when you didn’t know the cause for its’ destruction?

Today was finally the day your boyfriend was coming back. You had been waiting for so long and you were more than thrilled to welcome him back. You knew he came back exhausted, so you’d of course only visit him tomorrow, which was totally okay with you. He needed and deserved his rest. On the other side of the town, all of the BTS members were making their way into their dorm, happy to be home.

“Are you going to meet up with Y/N, Namjoon-ah?” Jin asked as they all sat down on their couch. “You two should talk. It has come to our attention that things seem to be a little tense between you tw–”

“Please, don’t start Hyung. All of you need to mind your business and stay out of my relationship with Y/N.” Namjoon replied as he got up from the couch. He wasn’t going to sit there and take a scolding from any of the boys at the moment. He was exhausted and simply wanted to rest.

“Jin is still your hyung, Namjoon.” Yoongi raised his voice at the younger, who seemed to be crossing boundaries. Despite being their leader and extremely smart, Yoongi rarely let any of the younger boys disrespect their elders. After all, that was how he had been raised.

“Of course. I’m sorry. I just need to rest. I’ll speak to her and all of you tomorrow.” Namjoon gave his brothers a smile before excusing himself out of the common area and into his bedroom.

THE NEXT DAY

Namjoon had stayed in his bedroom the entire day, not bothering to leave to grab something to eat. You were filling his head and every thought. And that was annoying him extremely much. On the other side of town, you were picking up the boys’ favorite coffees and drinks before you headed to their dorm. You were excited to finally see Namjoon, but of course you wanted to meet the other boys as well. All of them were your friends after all. As you were almost at the dorm, you texted Jin informing that you were almost arriving. You had been given the key to their apartment as a present in your 2-year anniversary, so you were maybe thinking of surprising your boyfriend and fixing everything. Jimin had informed you of what had happened yesterday and honestly you didn’t think Namjoon would act that way towards his brothers. Despite that, you were sure he’d be calmer today and ready to talk like adults.

As Jin texted you back, he heard Namjoon’s door open, the make appearing after a whole day of hiding away. The other boys also looked to Namjoon, who honestly looked even worse than yesterday.

“Morning, hyung.” Taehyung said as ate his cereals.

“Hi…” Namjoon replied as he sat down, yawning. He was still tired, but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to sleep any longer. He got himself a toast and poured some orange juice.

“So, are you going to talk with Y/N today?” Yoongi asked, going straight to the point. The others held a breath, admiring how straightforward the other was.

“Talk about what? I don’t get it. I have nothing to talk to her about.” Namjoon replied in the same tone, as he held his glad tighter in his hand. Did his hyung really have to start this early in the morning? Shouldn’t he be asleep anyways?

“You know you two have to talk. Honestly, you’ve been acting as a jerk towards your girlfriend who has been waiting for you to come back for almost nine months.” Yoongi said as he sipped his coffee, eyeing the younger who sat across from him. If he had to be the one to put some sense into his younger brother, then he would.

As you tried to open the door the quietest possibly, not wanting to wake anyone up if they were still sleeping, you heard voices coming from the kitchen. One of them you identified as your boyfriend’s which made you smile almost instantly.

“A jerk? How am I the jerk? She’s the one that has been acting so damn clingy and needy! She’s like a damn kid. I honestly didn’t think she’d act like this.”

“Namjoon, watch your words. That’s still your girlfriend who you’ve been dating for almost three years.” Yoongi said as he was now clearly annoyed about how the younger talked about you. All of the seven boys knew how Yoongi felt about you. It had been him who introduced you to the boys 5 years ago, and Namjoon also knew how much his hyung cared about you. In the back of his mind, Namjoon knew there was more to his hyung’s feelings just like all the other 6 boys knew. You, on the other hand, had always been pretty oblivious to that matter. 

Being a good hyung and best friend, when Yoongi saw how close you and Namjoon got, Yoongi decided to step down and let his best friend and brother enjoy themselves. Even though it hurt him in the beginning, he was okay after a while. He knew you were in better hands, but now he was wondering his decisions.  

“It’s true though. Am I not allowed to express how I feel? As if the pressure from the tour wasn’t enough, she puts even more pressure on me. Always wanting to talk and text. She’s become a burden in my life. Is it really my fault for acting this way? If I knew she would be like this, maybe I would’ve never asked her out in the first place three years ago.” Namjoon yelled as he slammed his hand down on the counter.

“It’s just so damn much! I can’t deal with all of this, okay? I need someone mature enough to be able to be alone for a bit. She knew what she was getting into when she accepted to go out with me. All I want is room to breathe! Why the hell am I the one wrong? A relationship doesn’t start crumbling down just because of one of the people. That person needs a damn reas-”

“Noona…” Jungkook mumbled as he stared at you with widen eyes, seeing you on the doorway holding all of the cups of coffee and a picked-up flower. Your hands were shaking as you stared at the back of your boyfriend, not wanting to believe the words that had just been shouted out.

At the sound of the maknae, Namjoon turned around to meet your face, tears running down your cheeks. If the sight wasn’t enough to break his heart, only then did he come to the realization of what he had truly said. The Pandora box had now been opened.

“I… haha. I see you all have already had dinner. Stupid of me. I should go, right? I’m sorry for disturbing your morning, Namjoon.” You said with a smile on your face as the tears kept running down your cheeks. You carefully put the tray with the coffees on the coffee table and turned around to leave as fast you walked in.

“For such a high IQ, you were pretty stupid now. I honestly hope your wish of wanting space turns real. You promised me that you’d treat her with care, but you just broke that promise of yours.” Yoongi’s tone was venomous as he got up and ran after you, giving his dongsaeng a last glance of disgust.

Namjoon sat in place as your words echoed in his brain. You had called him Namjoon and not Joonie. You laughed as you cried, you apologized even though you had done nothing wrong.

“I truly hope this is what you actually wanted, Namjoon. Y/N has given up a lot to be with you, and just like you know, it hasn’t been easy for her.” Jin said as he went to pick the coffees and flower you had brought them.

“Fuck! You think I wanted this? I only said those things in the heat of the moment. I love her…I really do…” Namjoon mumbled as he slammed his glass to the floor. He got up and ran to his room to pick his coat, his car keys and face mask before rushing out of the apartment.

What had he done?

Preview Chapter 8

“She’s my girlfriend, Yoongi-hyung. Stop interfering!”

“And she is my damn best friend. Leave before I force you to you leave.”

“Yoongs...I need to hear him out.” 

[cherr-e]

— disclaimer ➛ swearing maybe? trainee life?

genre ➛ angst and fluff

— title ➛ three a.m

summary ➛ It’s the final night as a trainee within the best K-pop company in the world. Oliver prepares to leave that life behind. Yet, one young boy has one last memory to create at three a.m.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:-  [mp3] when oliyong get to the window scene, make sure to listen to rosyln by bon iver (slowed would make it even prettier) [mp3] yeah it’s kinda shit but we move

masterlist

He turned left, the street he was used to for nine months greeting him. The black plastic bag rustling as it slowly swung backwards and forwards while Oliver sluggishly walked back to the accommodation his company had provided for him. It was nearing three a.m, the people who lived in this street were most likely huddled in their quaint homey places but also some were probably wide awake and alone - singular within their homes.

Oliver entered his apartment building he shared with other trainees, he ascended the first flight of stairs - the elevator was never on his favour. He only rode it once, the creaking wires and the flickering lights enough to make him prefer the stairs. Now, he was pressing the keypads - his mother’s birthday locked the dingy place up who he only shared with a frail boy named Taeyong. A trainee who only joined a few months back, Oliver found him cute - he was absolutely clueless when he first joined and those big puppy-like eyes made his heart warm up with love. Taeyong was like a younger brother he always wished for, and when he found out they lived together, he wanted to make sure that the young naive boy would adjust well. 

He taught him basic dance moves, a few chords on the guitar and rehearsed lightly with him. Oliver also made sure that his friend would eat, sometimes he would treat him out for some food with the little money he had from the monthly allowance his parents sent him. 

The machine let out a tune, and Oliver pushed the door open slowly - not wanting to wake up the only other person in the small space he lived in. When the older one first moved in nine months ago, there were other trainees who lived with him. Sammy and Jungwon, they had been with the company for years but realised they were not going to make their debut soon - so they packed their bags and left to their new lives, away from their dreams. For months, Oliver was always alone in this place, his passion for the stage beginning to slowly tumble but a new light had joined the house. They could both relate to each other, wanting to better themselves to debut or even debut in the same group. 

Taking off his worn-out trainers, he slipped into his black fluffy slippers and placed the bag on the countertop. “You’re here?” A high-pitched voice greeted Oliver and the boy nodded as he washed his hands. “Back from the convenience store, when did you come?” He asked as he took out the junk from the bag. “A few minutes ago...” Taeyong hesitated to speak, but it was Oliver’s last night with him. “It’s going to be weird without you.” 

Oliver let out a soft chuckle, “don’t miss me too much - you’ll find better ‘mentors’” He air quoted the last word and Taeyong was now giggling. The older popped the kettle on and pulled out his tattered cigarette box, “I never knew you smoked.” Taeyong arched a brow, curious on how Oli had gotten away with it considering the strict rules. 

“I only let it out when I’m frustrated or confused.” He replied, placing the lighter against the butt of the cigarette and shielded it for a few seconds before inhaling the nicotine and a cloud of grey left his mouth and nose. Taeyong coughed, suddenly feeling awkward and scrunched up his nose at the smell. “Sorry Taeyong, I’m filled with worries for the future.” The smoker cleared his throat and took another swig. 

“It’s okay, it’s not like you have to follow rules anymore.” The joke sounded monotone, or even depressing. The silence that followed made the situation at hand even more dark and gloomy than it already was - jokes beginning to tumble. Humour no longer able to protect reality. 

A boy who was confused with his identity, and what future he wanted to choose. Something he loved - music and dance - beginning to make him lose himself, and as well as that Oliver felt so lost with who he was and what he believed in. Continuing this life, would break him and hate the things he once loved. 

“Whether you’re signed underneath a strict label or not - you’re bound to break rules in this system.” He looked into Taeyong’s eyes, the kettle beginning to hiss but the frail boy wouldn’t look away. Oliver’s eyes were dark and mysterious, the person he was getting to know in the past few months seemed different from the one who stood there with his hands on either side of the table. He looked intimidating, scarier and just cold. 

“You seem different Oli.” The shorter one voiced his thoughts aloud, making the other one break out of his state through a cheeky smile wearing itself on his face. “Got a little philosophical there.” He spoke in a cheery tone, ripping open the cup ramen open as he picked up the kettle to pour into the snack. He folded the plastic lid back into place, letting nearby chopsticks hold the lid in place as the flavouring powder weaved its way in the starchy food. The cigarette still in between his lips, he looked real and tired. 

A sly smirk wore itself on Oliver Lee’s features, the end of the cigarette lighting up as he breathed in a new batch of nicotine into his lungs. A cloud of smoke left his lips again, Taeyong’s naive eyes still focusing on the stick in between his lips. Something so small was so addictive to many, that cigarette was a relief to many - like the man in front of him. Taeyong felt like Oliver was his cigarette, something he was irrationally addicted to, he didn’t know why. Moving away would be healthy for his best friend, and he should be happy for him but he was far from happy. Taeyong was upset, lost, confused and stupid. Nothing made sense in this world, he felt like a bullet soaring through the air, trying to reach something that he could penetrate and create home within. However, the bullet kept on flying. 

“Do you want some?” The older asked, pointing towards the cup ramen that had been spinning there for a few minutes. “Not really.” He replied, Oliver, nodding in acknowledgement - “let’s go sit in front of the window.” Taeyong suggested with a cute grin adorning his face, the idea making him all fuzzy inside. If he was confused with his feelings, he’d put that aside and fall for Oliver more - underneath the bright moonlight. 

Gosh, he really was entirely whipped. 

They got up and left the kitchen, taking a seat on the wooden floor which was often cold but they paid no mind to the temperature. The view they got with this place was beautiful, it was shocking as usually, companies housed their trainees in shitty dingy places with barely functioning necessities - which was true for the duo’s apartment. But the view made them forget of the worries they had, as well as the broken shower head. 

They stayed there while Oliver ate, finished smoking what he could of that cigarette. Being in the company of who he admired was enough for Taeyong, it was his last moment with him for a long time, the possibility of them re-uniting sparse and thin so he felt like he had every right to stay silent because it was better than useless small talk. “Why are you so quiet today?” Oliver asked, rubbing the butt of the cigarette on the top of the ramen plastic lid - he was now slightly liberated away from his thoughts. 

“Appreciating the lights I guess, it’s better than talking with no meaning.” His shoulders were slumped forward, eyes focused straight forward on the city lights as they switched on and off every few 10 minutes, reassuring him that three a.m made them feel restless. Just how he felt right now, heart quickening knowing that Oliver Lee was looking at him right now. 

“Your eyes sparkle a lot y’know.” He said, a light blush growing on Taeyong’s cheeks and turned towards the person who held his heart. “Don’t lie Oli.” “But they do, and there’s nothing wrong about it. They are actually quite pretty.” 

“Don’t say that,” Taeyong mumbled, palms beginning to sweat - he was slightly angry. “Say what?” Oliver was clueless, playing with his lighter in one hand as he looked into the city ahead of him. “You don’t say that to friends.” 

Oliver stopped with the lighter. The atmosphere turning tense, Taeyong felt like the only thing he could hear was his racing heart, beating quicker as every second turned into a different number. “You’re quite again,” Oliver spoke up, beginning to pull out the box of cigarettes for the second time. “Don’t smoke again, it hasn’t even been ten minutes since your last.” He wasn’t soft-spoken anymore, it was like all those months of annoyance at everything had been pointed at Oliver even though he didn’t mean too. 

The pressure to be perfect at his sparse talents, he didn’t know where to find them, the confusion towards having feelings you were supposed to have with a girl falling onto his best friend and roommate. His roommate not taking care of himself, harming and belittling himself. Taeyong knew Oliver felt like shit, it was so fucking obvious.

“Look at me Taeyong.” Oliver begun, waiting for a few seconds before heaving a sigh and repeating himself more sternly. He placed his rough calloused hands on the side of Taeyong’s neck, and the boy turned towards his touch. That place felt hot beneath his palm, itchy and the younger felt himself get sweatier. 

“What’s up?” 

He didn’t have words to explain himself, what would he even start with? Complaining about life, complaining about the greed he had for him? So, he pursed his lips in anger and stayed quiet and turned his head to look at his frantic hands. This led to Oliver getting closer, hand still situated on Taeyong’s neck, “speak Taeyong-ah.” 

With a swift movement, Taeyong leaned in closer and puckered his lips to meet Oliver’s. He felt hot and adrenaline had sought him out before his rational side had spoken, he pulled away slightly. At least he did it, at least he shared his first kiss with the person he admired. 

“I like you, Oliver. A lot, I don’t know how much but it is quite a la-” Amidst his ramble, the older one had placed his lips on Taeyong’s pouted ones. A habit he often had when he’d speak when worried or confused, Oliver placed his hands on the sides of Taeyong’s face as he kissed him harder, he parted his lips as the kiss got deeper. Lips on the other lips. Oliver tasted of cigarettes, his lips were soft and plush like Taeyong had always dreamed of. He had slipped a tongue in, both of them warming up with love and desire for one another.

He pulled back and had that stupid smirk Taeyong had fallen for. He didn’t know if he was mocking him or revelling in what had just happened, he wished it was the latter. 

Oliver pulled him in for one small kiss, and then they lay there below the moonlight shining through. The clock had just turned into four a.m, sleep enrapturing the both of them in each other’s warm arms - beneath a blanket Taeyong had strung along with him. They both wore their clothes, Taeyong felt safe in Oliver’s arms. 

Except it was short-lived, as he had now woken with sore muscles and an empty side. He slowly got up from his position, searching for traces of his love. But he was gone, and the only thing left was a note:

❛ I am glad to have been your first kiss and I am glad you were my friend in the last few months in Seoul. Focus on yourself now.  — Oliver Lee.❜

[ichiruuu]

TITLE OF STORY: Do You Fear The Devil CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter One AUTHOR: https://ichiruuu.tumblr.com/post/190849488349/title-of-story-do-you-fear-the-devil-chapter WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki GENRE: Romance FIC SUMMARY: He is forbidden. Her heritage was stolen.Its been two years since the earth was attacked by the Chitauri. Victoria Bishop lives in New York and works for Tony Stark also known to the rest of the world as the Invincible Iron Man When Loki returns for the Tesseract, she finds herself somehow drawn to him and his bad side. Loki is the type her dad warned her about. Loki is the type of man you want to hide and lock up your daughters from. As Tony Stark once said, "We create our own demons."But what about falling for one? RATING: Explicit WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: mentions of rape and violence.  FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Hello! This is my first Loki fic. Please give some feedback! Thank you :)

Something was off that Monday morning. 

I could not place my finger on it as I made my way through downtown Philadelphia. It was raining so it had been deemed pretty stupid to worry about the day being off. The mood however…

I had forgotten why the mood was sour today. I was on the first train out of my beloved city to an unknown place. The letter had instructed me to move out and was shoved down somewhere at the bottom of my suitcase. That was a week ago. It had been about three months prior to my departure when it arrived. I was sitting in my office with my mother who loves to chide me when it came to my personal endeavors. There hadn’t been too many clients that day so I could pace myself with my work. My father, a well known doctor in Philadelphia, had been contacted by Anthony Stark. Mr. Stark was a man of many secrets but everyone knew that he was technically a superhero. His company had been associated with SHIELD, which we only knew about through the television and newspapers. The organization itself had based their beliefs on catching intergalactic criminals and stopping the world from coming to end. But after some fights with SHIELD’s director, Mr. Stark had started his own program to stop aliens (the spacial kind) from invading the planet. Stark Industries had hired my father to study how other species survive and live on our planet. One of them happened to be Thor’s younger adopted brother.

The job description required a young and vibrant person to assist Tony Stark with physical and psychological studies involving said younger brother. I had never personally met Thor’s brother but based on Mr. Stark’s description of him, he was a dick. Someone that you wouldn’t want to mess with.

When I arrived at my apartment that same day, I was not surprised in the slightest at how big it was. Bigger than my room in my parent’s house. After all, my father had hounded Mr. Stark about me having the best accommodations money could offer. Being spoiled at age twenty- two made me feel like such a child. Once the movers arrived at my new home, they unloaded all of my furniture. There weren’t many things that I owned, but the comfort of having them with me had eased my apprehensiveness of moving to a completely different place. You’d think I’d be used to a big city but Philly had nothing on New York. 

My new place had two bedrooms, a single bathroom with a high powered shower and a kitchenette with a small dining room. Picking the biggest room was pretty easy. It was closer to the street with a huge window which I was thankful for. A daily dose of Vitamin D was good for everyone. 

A loud ring coming from under the couch cushions startled me. Realizing it was my phone, I laughed out loud for being scared of something so silly. The caller ID informed me it was Mr. Stark. Gulping audibly, I cleared my throat before answering. 

“Hello?” My voice cracked. 

“Ah, Ms. Bishop. I see you’re nice and settled into your new apartment. Is everything to your liking?” I wasn’t sure but I had the distinct feeling there was sarcasm behind that question. My teeth grit involuntarily. 

“Everything is perfect, Mr. Stark. Thank you by the way,” Mumbling, I said my goodbyes to him and we hung up. So much for trying to impress the new boss. Glaring at my clock, I shoved the phone under the couch cushions again. Like my mother said: Que sera sera. 

****************************************************************************

The sun was the only thing shielding myself from my own homicidal thoughts. 

I was drowning in my sweat and I wasn't even half down the block. I loved living in a big city but I missed Philly. Especially with all the pollution constantly clogging up my lungs and a car waiting at every corner to maim me. I was happy to go to work today. Today marked the anniversary of working one year with Mr. Stark. It was an honor and a privilege. It was also a degrading job that paid fairly well, the irony of it. I was a certified physician assistant to my father. But part of my job also entailed doing daily blood draws on the one and only god of chaos and destruction, Loki Odinson. Loki was Thor’s brother who also happened to be an Avenger. And in case you didn't know, Tony Stark was the Iron Man. I had started working with Mr. Stark because his most trusted physician had been too much of a chicken to go head to head with a god. A snort came out of my nose. Yeah, right. There was the small detail of Mr. Stark’s wife, Pepper Potts, having a pair of twin boys so Mr. Stark’s blood pressure was known to skyrocket.  

        Noise polluted the quiet vastness of my mind and distracted me away from my thoughts. I walked towards the upper part of Manhattan. A loud honking noise made me stop short and I turned sharply. A taxi had just stopped in front of me and kept honking. I kept walking and ignored the driver. It was usually what happened in these parts. That was one of the reasons I hated living here. It only made me miss my tiny bedroom in the outskirts of Philadelphia.

        I was out of breath by the time I was inside the Stark Tower. Missy, the secretary, met my eyes when I entered the grandiose building. She gave me a rather nasty look. I gave her a nasty look of my own. When I turned away, I could almost feel her piercing gaze on my back. I tried walking towards the elevator as gracefully possible, but for me, I felt like I was a gazelle with its legs broken. Holding my head up high, I stopped in front of the elevator. Just as I was about to press the last button, it pinged and opened. Mr. Stark stepped out in his mighty Avenger glory. I was taken aback at his sudden entrance. He was about the same height as my father (a whole five feet and nine inches on the dot) with dark brown hair that was neatly styled and a tidy beard. He had a rueful smile on his face and I stared at him more for several seconds. He wore a pair of dark wash denim jeans and a tight black t-shirt. I wasn’t the type to stare at one’s boss, but Mr. Stark had a good figure considering his age and all. He had gotten married recently, and still acted like the playboy that he solemnly had been for years. Around me, he acted like an older brother or protector. It was because he was twenty-five years my senior. It felt comforting having him there, since I rarely saw my father at the lab. He still stayed in Philadelphia and traveled for meetings once a week. 

        “Ah, Miss Bishop. So glad you made it. What, did you stop and get your hair done before work?” he teased. I laughed.

        “No, Mr. Stark. I had just set my alarm a little late. I knew that I didn’t have to start work until eight.” I glanced down at my Rolex, making sure I was right. Yup. Fifteen minutes until my shift. I shifted and let out a sigh of relief. Mr. Stark looked me up and down. He tsk tsked at me.

               “Geez, Miss Bishop. You’re what, twenty-four now? You dress like my grandmother!” He shook his head but kept smiling. My lips thinned into a tight line, I examined what I was wearing. I thought I looked decent enough. I was wearing dark washed jeans and a violet blouse paired with knee high boots. Perhaps wearing knee high boots in the middle of March wasn't such a good idea after all. Business casual. Or more casual than business as he had once put it. At least I hadn't walked into work with Hawaiian shorts and a Mickey Mouse shirt like he did one time. We don't talk about that Christmas party incident anymore. 

        “Okay, fine. I do admit I don’t typically dress my age. And I’m twenty-three!”

“Okay okay, kid. What’s on the agenda for today?” He stopped smiling and had a grim look on his face in a split second.

I gave him a blank stare. There was a strange look on his face. Crap. That was also part of my job. He glanced at me almost as if he was gonna say something but held his tongue. 

“Is it an Avenger thing?” I recovered quickly. “Or is it a code nine one one?” Code 911 usually stood for escaping superbeings. I could only pray that it wasn’t Loki this time. 

 He nodded and turned on his heels. A highly dangerous god was on the loose. Missy stepped out from behind her post and wordlessly gave Mr. Stark a silver briefcase. It was lightweight and inconspicuous, perfect for New York. Having a briefcase was the norm here. In reality, it was his Iron Man armor. He pressed a button to open the case. Stepping into it, the armor conformed to his body and he flew out of the balcony window in the lobby. Papers flew everywhere and Missy huffed. My laughter echoed inside the elevator. 

My job was fairly simple at Stark Industries. Do a routine blood draw, stay out of the way, and do not ask the guard to leave while doing physical tests. Sometimes I was a carrier pigeon for Mr. Stark. He’d send me over to the Shield headquarters (each time the location was different) and hand over vital information to Director Nicholas Fury. Sometimes it entailed me going on trips out of the country which was a nice perk of being here. 

There was only one person I could tolerate in the entire tower and that was Dr. Bruce Banner. We were both smart and we knew about the body so we felt comfortable talking about biological warfare and whatnot. On my first paid vacation we had spent a weekend in Calcutta where he tried to meditate and control the other guy. He had invited Natasha Romanoff. I usually stayed clear of her way. She was intimidating sometimes but her sharp wit often made me laugh. Her combat skills came in handy when my usual guard had to tend to some other assignments per Mr. Stark, so she filled in for him. The protocol was that I had to have someone with me at all times. The trust in Loki was so little. There was also Clint Barton. I rarely saw him since he had a private life outside of the Avengers job. He was married and had two kids so he tried to avoid the action as much as he could. There was a rumor going around that Clint had been possessed by some kind of unearthly power due to Loki’s influence on alien technology. Clint’s PTSD had sky-rocketed the minute he spied Loki again in the tower. 

And of course, there was Steve Rogers. He and I never saw eye to eye on anything. There had been a brief time where I had actually wondered if the man in red, white, and blue had developed a crush on me. It turned out it was just his fucked up views on female doctors. Shocker. 

The elevator was lagging today so I wondered if Mr. Stark had tweaked its hardware, again. I pushed the button for the very top again just to make sure I had pushed it in the first place. There was one person I forced myself not to think of. On my first day, I had fallen head over heels for Thor. Now that I thought about it, it seemed pretty stupid. Having a crush on him was inconvenient for sure but I was thankful that he had politely declined my advances. All in all, unrequited love hurt like a bitch. 

Now, I was better after the whole crush thing. I had a few friends, I worked for a bunch of superheroes and my salary was the bomb lest the degrading part of it. Sometimes I went on dates but it was rare since I was so busy. I barely had time for myself! When the elevator opened, I walked out with my satchel over my shoulder. The air was warm up here compared to the cool elevator ventilation. The sun was shining just as brightly as it had been outside and the birds were chirping. The windows in the corridor reflected a rainbow. I straightened my clothes before I walked into Mr. Stark’s office to pick up Loki’s medical chart. Excitement was bubbling inside of me as I thought about testing his lipids and cholesterol. Loki’s metabolism should have been the envy of every athlete in the world. It was quite impressive how much food he consumed and how fast he burned away all the calories. 

I shuffled forward while people passed by me in the hallway. Several of them waved or just nodded. Somehow I still felt out of place. Being the youngest worker here certainly didn’t make it easier on me. I was different from people my age. My degree stuck out like a sore thumb. There was always that feeling of not being good enough. Mr. Stark always soothed my worries about being useful. All the data I gathered for him on the daily had helped treat several people he knew that had suffered from a strange disease after the battle of New York four years ago. 

I guess the only good thing about me was being able to stand my ground. I could easily stick up for myself in any situation. Fighting back a smile, I made my typical beeline for the fresh coffee and donuts Mr. Stark supplied for his workers. After grabbing a napkin to wipe the sugary goodness off of my fingers, I bit into my vanilla donut. I poured coffee with just a splash of cinnamon coffee creamer. A true queen’s breakfast. I walked down the hall while I munched on my goodies. It should be an easy day. I didn’t even have to start my labs until the afternoon after some interrogation and a meeting. Mr. Stark hadn’t been too specific about Loki, but I was sure it was a joke when he said Loki escaped. As far as anyone knew, Loki was locked in his room on the fiftieth floor like Rapunzel. Just as I was opening the door to Mr. Stark’s office I stopped right in my tracks. There was someone in his chair. My coffee hit the floor, sloshing the hot liquid all over my boots. It smelled like pine cleaner and...alcohol? My eyes widened when the chair turned. 

There he was in all of his Asgardian glory. 

I had seen Loki many times. I had seen him in regular human clothes. But I had never seen him in his armor. His cold piercing eyes stared right into mine. His eyes, oh his eyes, were a baby blue color that mesmerized me often. Right now they were dark like endless pools of black murky waters. His black hair was slicked back in his usual style with a few strands tucked behind his ear. The expression he had on his face was wild, animalistic. He didn’t smile. He never did. 

Fear shot through me like icy liquid causing me to shiver violently. My legs were numb while  pure adrenaline coursed through my veins. It was fight or flight at this point. I had no guard here. Basically, I was fucked. He stood up fluidly with such grace that it made me twinge with jealousy. Even like this, he was still somehow perfect. But something was not right. He staggered slowly. Then it hit me. Loki was drunk.  

Perhaps he would kill me in his drunken state. He’d be merciful and do it quickly. His temper was downright scary. I had discovered that on the first day of his blood draws. 

“What are you doing here, Loki?” I asked cautiously. He tilted his head and walked closer to me. I could smell the alcohol and it made me gag. I coughed at how strong and potent it was. It was most likely Asgardian ale. Earth alcohol had no effect on Loki or his brother.   

“How in the fuck did you escape your room?” There was silence. A look of confusion crossed his delicate features. He didn’t even understand my question. It took all of my willpower not to burst into laughter. Taking a deep breath, I tried to speak to him again and get his attention. 

“What am I doing here?” He slurred. He sounded coherent enough. Perhaps the alcohol was being sweated out of his system. It surprised me how strangely calm and collected he sounded at the moment. My thoughts began to wander as I studied Loki’s face. He was really attractive. There was something about his face that didn’t match Thor’s. Loki’s complexion was pale and his milky skin was flawless. Paired with pink thin lips and childlike expressions, overall he was angelic. He towered over every other resident in the Tower. During his first exam, I measured his height. He was an impressive six foot three and a half. 

“Where is the tesseract?” His slurring was even more pronounced as he swayed back and forth, eyeing me with a hungry stare. He was heaving instead of taking normal breaths. There was sweat on his forehead. A sickly look graced his perfect face. Even as he scrutinized me, I could feel the power radiating off of him. He truly was a god. A regal and powerful god. He could snap me in half if his heart desired. My bitchy persona was back on as I shook my head. So what if he was inebriated? I could still take him like that. 

“The what?” I asked stupidly, cocking my head to the side. I had a pretty vague idea of what he was asking about. “I said what are you-” Before I could finish my sentence, Loki did a very not Loki thing. In three quick strides, he stood in front of me, his frame completely engulfing me. He looked like he had fallen from above, like a malevolent god. The faint smell of pine and snow was coming off of him. His eyes were narrowed. I forgot how to breathe for a second and I swear my heart stopped for a few beats. Swallowing air burned my throat from how terrified I was. The odd feeling of having him so close to me was eerie. He had a thing about being touched without permission and personal space. 

“I want the tesseract!” The windows shook from his thunderous voice. “Tell me where I can acquire it!” Loki hissed at me. I was so scared at this point that I began to giggle. This was usually a side effect of pure fear. His swaying did nothing for him. My lips pursed when he leaned down closer to me. A finger lifted a curl from my face and he tucked it behind my ear. A whole second went by before Loki seized my forearm. I yelped in pain, his steely grip squeezing me tightly. My teeth gritted to prevent myself from crying. Several veins in his neck were popping out in anger. Yet, I did not care what he wanted. He was hurting me. Even my teeth began to chatter from the anger I felt at the treatment I was receiving from him. God or not, he shouldn’t treat a person with such disrespect. 

“I don’t where your stupid tesseract is, Loki,” I spat out. “And even if I did know, I would never tell someone like you. You are the scum of the universe, Loki Odinson.” And with that, I yanked my arm out of his grip, walked to the window and pulled out my phone to call Mr. Stark. A growl came behind me as Loki charged at me with an incredibly vile expression on his face. He bared his teeth, his eyes absolutely livid. It was the last thing I saw before he grabbed my arms and threw me against the glass windows. I greeted darkness peacefully.

[themarissaharrison]

Three’s Company? | Discord

                                    DISCORD THREAD #001

Who?: Marissa Harrison, Cleo Lopez @cmlopezofficial​, Nicola Slone @nicolaeisms​ When?: At the end of the night of AveRoes wedding reception Where?: Cleo’s Office

Mentions: @thealexkingsley | @allisterjacksonn | Lauren (NPC) | Delilah (NPC) Triggers: Alcohol, Abuse mentions, Violence mentions, Death mentions

MAJOR PLOT DEVELOPMENT?: Yes - Marissa will now be joining Cleo & Nicola for July 4th celebrations in Montatuk. They are now trying to figure out if a Throuple would work for all of them...

CLEO

She smiled warmly. "I don't know where I'd be without you either," she admitted. A life without Nicola... It just didn't seem possible. It wasn't something she can imagine. Kissing her back, though, there was something else. Something that was needed... Someone else. She knows what she needs to do. "There's some broken glass- let me clean that up real quick and I'll text my driver to ask if he can come pick us up. It might take him awhile, though. So please, sit here and make yourself comfortable." Kissing her lips once more, she got up and headed to her desk. She texted her driver, being told to wait twenty minutes... and then she text Marissa, relieved that she was on her way. Grabbing gloves along with a dust pan and little brush, she got to work on cleaning the little mess. Hoping that Marissa will be here soon.

NICOLA

"the broken glass....i might be the reason that there's broken glass." nicola was a little bit aware of alex's temper, and after that shouting game they had, she just know she'd do such thing. it takes her a moment to notice that the button on her blazer was ruined, she was raging mad, too, showing those scars to the younger woman. but when she showed her hers....she couldn't help but despise her father even more, he's a sick fuck, a vile being. she sat quiet there, fighting the thought of ever coming back to chicago on her own, though she didn't want to hurt marissa again, she didn't want to hurt cleo, she didn't want to break their hearts.(edited)

MARISSA

Marissa had been halfway down the street when Cleo text her, ready to head home and have tonight just be over. She was scared, terrified even, that something inside her was breaking again, that she was slipping back down that rabbit hole. Miss me? Why had she said that? She needed a fucking drink, but a quiet one away from the noise of the party. Then Cleo text her and said that one word. Chicago. Marissa knew that whenever it came to that city, Nic would need her. Nic would need them both. She turned around and headed back inside, ignoring anyone who tried to talk to her and headed straight up to Cleo’s office, jacket still on. She slipped inside and saw Nic on the couch and her heart dropped. “What happened?” She asked, furrow in her brow as she closed the door behind her and scanned the room. “What’s with the glass?”

CLEO

"Wait, really? How come, baby?" she furrowed her brows, yet she couldn't look up from her job. Had Nicola been in here when that happened? Oh gods... Did she learn about that bastard being alive in here? Her heart dropped. Did her office leave a bad taste in her mouth now? Is it just going to remind Nic of learning that little information? Maybe if she remodels her office, that could help. Change it, get rid of the stuff that could remind her of that, of him. Marissa showed up just as Cleo cleaned up the remaining bits of glass, the younger blonde standing up and looking at her with relief. "Thank the gods- you're here." Her words were genuine, her small smile warm. Nicola needs them both right now; Surely she'll understand and not be upset that she alerted the brunette. At least, she hoped so... She emptied out the glass pieces into a trash bin before putting the supplies away. "I-I'm not sure," she admitted.

NICOLA

nicola took so long before even being able to respond to the younger woman's question, recalling majority of her and alex's conversation, which she thought was going to be something civil, casual. then it quickly turned around and became a shouting game, both of them showing physical reminders of the suffering both has went through with the man. she was about to respond when the door opens, revealing the brunette who has left her and cleo moments ago. she wanted to ask her where she went, but she was too distracted by what alex has told her. "i....i was looking for you after getting some drinks," she says as she glances at cleo. "i went here and saw his daughter, she told me he's in prison. he's--he's still alive." she needed a drink right now, she's so parched, he breathing's becoming so heavy again. "then....we....i--i showed this to her," she takes her blazer off. "but when she showed me hers....i couldn't take looking at them longer. i...i left...but i heard something crashing before i closed the door. that may be it."

MARISSA

Marissa glanced between the two women, the atmosphere in the room far from what was ever in the dive bar. This was dark, really fucking dark, and Marissa was at a loss of words... That was a first. She forced a smile back at Cleo before moving slowly into the room some more and sitting down on the couch next to Nic. "I-- was headed home, I was going to text you when I got there," she admitted but then everything came to a front and she realised exactly what had happened. "His daughter?" From what Marissa had said about this guy, this gang leader, he didn't seem the type to have a real family. Then again, by the sounds of it this girl was only daughter by blood and nothing else. Marissa took a deep breath in as she leaned forward and poured some more liqor in a glass and handed it to Nic, letting silence wash through the room for a few moments. "He's in prison, Nic... Where he belongs-- it's not an eye for an eye, I know but... It's justice, babe... You're still safe, I am-- Cleo... He's behind bars.".

CLEO

Cleo headed to the couch, taking the seat next to Nicola. Her hand was on her lower back, softly rubbing it as she explained herself. Ah... That explains a lot, she thought to herself. Kissing her shoulder, she looked at the brunette with worry in her eyes. She was still shaken up over Nicola wanting to go back to Chicago, still fearful of turning her back just to look back and realize the older blonde left. Having Marissa here... it helped. It really helped. She had someone who could help her comfort Nic, of making sure that she knew she was safe and that they got her. "It's going to be okay, Nic," she whispered, her other hand resting on her knee. "I promise that nothing is going to happen to you, to us. We're going to be okay. And we got you. I'm sorry that you ran into his daughter..." Hearing about the girl... She couldn't imagine what horrors she faced growing up with a man like that for a father. He was truly no man at all, but a monster. Thriving off of spreading terror and pain to anyone and everyone. And it enraged Cleo. But, she couldn't allow that to show. It would do no good right now. "It's going to be okay, baby. In two days, the three of us are going to take Cordelia to Montauk... we'll celebrate the holiday there with her, together... and we're going to forget the world and everything else for awhile. Nothing else exist except for us, okay?" Kissing her cheek, she nuzzled her face against her hair. "We got you, Nickie... I promise we got you."

NICOLA

the eldest blonde takes the glass from marissa and downs it swiftly, hoping that it would calm down her nerves a little bit. marissa had a point, he's in jail, they're all safe, but it just wasn't enough to silence the worries she's having. "he's in jail," she repeats, "and he gets out in two years, max, according to his daughter. he should've--he should've gotten more than just that." nicola suppresses a hiss that was about to slip from her lips, talking about him brings the worst memories, it makes her recall the misery she’s been through, that it gets to her physically at times, cleo witnessed it a lot for the past four years, marissa….she recently witnessed it when they were in chicago. they’re the only people in her life who has witnessed her most vulnerable, helpless side, and she hated it, she hated to see the hurt on their faces whenever she’s in that state. she doesn’t want to make them worry even more, maybe their time in montauk would help her and the need to come back to chicago. perhaps a time away with the most important women in her life would at least make her forget. “if anything happens to you two and cordelia, i won’t know what i’ll fucking do.”

MARISSA

Marissa leaned forward, her elbows on her knees as she looked up at Nic and tried to get some kind of read as to what was really going on in there. Was she thinking about going back? Killing him? "Leave the past where he belongs, Nic, baby..." Oh, if only those two knew how hypocritical that was coming from her after what she'd just been through. She pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed her tired eyes as she sighed gently. Marissa had never been a great comforter, she was very much the type of person someone would come to when they wanted the truth. "If anything happens to anyone, then we'll deal with it... But, honey, two years is a long time. He's in a prison, in Chicago too. That corrections department has the highest prisoner murder rate in the country, so even if he makes it out of there alive... I think he's going to be having more problems up there, rather than coming down here and looking for people he's-- never even heard of before..." She furrowed her brow a little as she glanced to Cleo, glad at least one of them seemed to know how to comfort someone. "Don't-- don't go back, Nicola... It's not going to change anything... It's not going to bring her back..."

CLEO

"I know you're scared, baby," she mused softly. She brought her hand from her back to caress her head. After four years of their friendship, four years of many nights together fighting of her nightmares and memories, she's learned a thing or two on how to help calm down the owner of Blue. "Marissa is right- there's always the chance that he's made some enemies in there and the next time he does leave, it's in a body bag." She didn't want to think of the possibility of him knowing about them, about Cordelia. If his daughter was in Kingsboro, there could be a chance any of men being here as well. She was not about to speak aloud about that- that would cause more harm than good. "I know... I know that it hurts. That what happened to Lauren... If she was here, she would ask you not to go back. So please... Please stay with us." She moved her hand from Nicola's knee, holding it out in offer to Marissa while she kept her eyes on the older blonde. "Stay with us and we'll go to Montauk together soon. Nothing's going to happen to us and Cordelia- the four of us are going to be okay and together." Glancing at the brunette, she smiled softly. "Maybe even start a little sooner. Maybe... Marissa, would you like to stay with us before we head off to Montauk? We'll be together... You can meet Dela... We'll be safe, the four of us. What do you say?" Please... Please say yes. Please come home.

NICOLA

she wanted to, she has been trying to leave the past, but it’s always there to haunt her back when she’s at her most defenseless state. but nicola couldn’t just tell them that. she takes a deep, tired sigh, scooting close to marissa’s side as she rested her forehead against her shoulder. he was in maximum security prison, and even though he’s a notorious gang leader, there’s a chance that he would survive that place is most likely not high. she’s almost brought to a similar prison so many years ago, just when she met lauren. “i don’t think he’ll forget the woman who almost ended his life.” she whispers in reply. it’s a battle of her mind versus the women she loves the most, though both of them has a point. it wouldn’t bring lauren back to life, it won’t bring things back to how it was before, that lauren…..she’s isn’t going to be happy about this if she were to know it. hell, the blonde was sure she’s disappointed in her for what she did back then. she takes marissa’s other hand to hold and intertwines their finger and glances her with pleading evident in her eyes. she wanted her them with them, besides the fact that it’ll be great for them to be away from kingsboro for a while, she wanted both women to get to know each other more.

MARISSA

Marissa knew that there was not really anything that could be said to truly calm the older blonde. She wondered for a moment, as she glanced at the younger one whether Cleo had experienced that kind of loss before... Was she as broken as her and Nic? Did she understand? Riss was finding it hard to stay in the moment and not retract into her own head, there was so much going on in there she almost wanted to scream for it to stop. She didn't let it show though, not on her features, although the older blonde probably knew her eyes enough to know something was going on. When Cleo asked her to come and stay before the trip, she wasn't sure what her best option was... But, then Nicola grabbed her hand and gave her that look. She swallowed and nodded with a gentle sigh. The last thing Marissa wanted was for Nic to be so on edge and worried about her that she couldn't relax which was clearly what would happen if how she was in Chicago earlier in the week was anything to go by. "Okay..." She breathed out, glancing between Nic and Cleo. "I'll-- message Aaron, get him to look after the gallery and our clubs for a week... He owes me one, anyway," she forced a smile. "I'll probably need to go to my Manhattan office tomorrow and reschedule some things but-- I'll.. I'll take one of your security detail, if that will make you feel-- safer... Better.." She looked at Nic.

CLEO

She had never lost someone she loved more than life to death before. While the breakup with Allister had crushed her, changed her in a way, and felt like a loss, he was still alive and well. But those first few years in Los Angeles certainly hadn't been kind. She'd done some horrible things to survive while living there- but essentially, no. The closest she got was with Nic and learning everything. Learning about the man that took everything from her. Hearing about it all so many times, witnessing the aftermath of the pain and torture Nicola went through, doing everything she can to comfort her while occasionally having nightmares of her experiences herself: it had given Cleo a taste of what she'd been through. Watching Marissa, she was worried for a moment there she was going to say no. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until she agreed, letting it out softly and giving her a warm smile. "That sounds like a plan," she said. "My driver will be here in... ten to fifteen minutes and then, we'll be home. Cordelia's at a sleepover tonight, she should be back at the penthouse at around noon. It's going to be okay. We're... We're going to be okay."

NICOLA

"merci, ma chère," she whispers, taking marissa hand to her lips and kisses the back of her palm. after what's happened in chicago, the brunette witnessing her lose it, it was a relief that she agreed on cleo's proposal. nicola needed her around, too. considering that she promised...she'd never disappear again unlike what she did so many years ago. what has her still clinging on the need to stay is that she promised that she'll keep herself safe, that....she'd never waste this chance of having marissa back again in her life. she looks down, running her finger along her bracelet that she gave the other before glancing back up to give her a soft kiss, turning to the younger blonde, "thank you...for being here," she whispers, kissing her too before taking her hand to hold. "i....i'll call one of my security detail to accompany you, riss. and my chauffeur, he can be of your service while i stay at cleo's. i'll call someone at blue and cherry pop to take over while i'm away." knowing that she'll now have both women wand cordelia with her at montauk, it somehow brings peace to her mind.

MARISSA

Marissa nodded a little as she leaned forward and poured herself herself a glass of whisky, the thoughts of what happened last time running through her mind as if they happened yesterday. Waking up, no note, no phone call, no-one being able to tell her where she'd gone, even the workers at Blue... If she had to go through that again, that would be it, every chance at finding what they had lost that morning would disappear and she knew that Nicola knew that. She just... Didn't quite know whether that would be enough to keep her away from the windy city. "Just a-- security detail will be alright Nic, you know how I like to drive," she smirked a little before taking a sip of the liquor. "It's gonna be alright, you know?" Marissa glanced at Nic before returning her gaze into the murky brown drink. "He's alive, but then he's been alive for what-- four years? Nothing has happened since you got back here... No-one has been attacked, no-one's being followed..." That we know of... Probably not best to mention that... "It'll be okay..." Was she convincing Nicola, or herself?

CLEO

She watched them, eyes trailing to the bracelet on the younger girl's wrist then back to their faces. And for the first time that evening, she felt like an intruder. That she was an audience member watching a play, witnessing an intimate moment between two lovers while she had no business being there. It wasn't a great feeling. She smiled softly as she kissed her back, squeezing her hand for a moment before letting go. "I need to work on a few things real quick." Her voice came out soft, as if worried that if she spoke up a little more that it would ruin the moment between the two women. She got up from the couch and headed to her desk, keeping her back to the two lovers so they wouldn't catch the pursing of her lips and the awkwardness on her face. The conversation felt like it should be shared between those two, not including her. She worked out a list of commands to share with her PA and the higher ups at the restaurant. She was already planning on the restaurant being closed for the next week so that the restaurant could get a deep cleaning and sanitation after tonight. She also included to make sure to write that the staff were to have the week off while still being paid while making sure that the fish and aquariums will be taken off- and for the islands in the kitchens to all be replaced and to start remodeling her office. Checking her phone, she groaned softly. "Car's being delayed; There was an accident and now, my driver's stuck in traffic. He's not sure if he'll be here in fifteen minutes or longer." If she's going to have to spend the next fifteen minutes or longer feeling like a third wheel, she was honestly worried slightly for the next ten days already.

NICOLA

"alright, just a security detail, i guess i need to call my chauffeur too so he could take a week off." nicola tucks a loose hair behind marissa's ear. she feels a little bit peaceful now compared to moments ago, having the two women to calm her down and stop thinking about the worst things that could happen to the three of them. maybe she was overthinking this, maybe marissa and cleo are right. "it's going to be alright. i apologize for....worrying too much." she looks down at their hands, taking a deep sigh once more. "it just frightens me that he might be planning something big, i....i really did cause a big damage on his crew." she couldn't find the right way on how to elaborate this to marissa, how.....she's taken lives of people who were part of lauren's death. "i hope so, riss. i really do hope so." she glances at the younger blonde who stood by the desk, noticing her groan. "i could call my chauffeur, if that's okay?" before cleo could even respond, she takes her phone out of her purse, slowly getting back to the quiet, calmer nicola the everyone knew. she talks to her driver and tells him they need to be picked up as soon as possible. she could sense that there's this tension in the room that she couldn't quite put her finger on. she plants a soft kiss on top of marissa's head before walking up to cleo. "is everything alright?"

MARISSA

Marissa glanced up as Cleo stood up and walked over to her desk, her eyes lingering on the other blonde for a moment before coming back to Nicola. It was clear that Marissa wasn't exactly complete in the room, or the moment. "You don't need to apologize," she forced a smile as she squeezed Nicola's hand in an attempt to reassure her somewhat. "Keep his daughter close though," she said, a strange and ominous seriousness in her tone. "If anyone is going to know what's going on with him, what-- where he is... It's going to be his daughter, right?" She rose her eyebrow a little before letting go of Nic's hand as the older blonde also stood up. Marissa watched as she walked across to Cleo, but then took her eyes off the pair and poured herself another drink, picking it up and staring up into the aquarium on the wall to her left.

CLEO

"Uh- sure, yeah. I'll let my guy know." And to pay him double for this week, oops. She'd been writing her text, not expecting Nicola to join her. She was startled slightly before giving her a soft smile. "Of course," she mused, returning her eyes to her screen. She'd caught sight of Marissa, feeling her heart drop. Sending the text, she looked back at the older blonde and nodded her head over to the brunette. "Go back to her. Talk with her, drink with her, whatever. I need to take care of a few things- go be with her." Her voice was soft and she had a small smile on her face. But it was honestly a bit difficult. Kissing her cheek, she then sat behind her desk in her chair before pulling her emails up and started typing up her list to send to her PA and restaurant higher ups, needing to do something so that she wouldn't think about being the (unwanted?) third wheel in the room. She couldn't keep watching them as if she was an audience member nor could she try to share a moment with Nicola and potentially exclude Marissa. She couldn't do that, nor did she want to.

NICOLA

"i'll try to keep contact with her, though....i don't know how to even approach her after what happened. but you do have a point. let's just hope that if ever something comes up," which she certainly hopes not, "she'll tell me." nicola had this feeling from both women, which is now stronger with cleo this time. she doesn't quite understand why she was being pushed away. she knew the younger blonde too well beneath that smile. though, she complied to her request to join marissa back there. this may sound selfish of her, but she wanted to have the two of them close, not like this. she returns to her previous place, and takes the gallery owner's hand in hers, as she took a look at what she was staring. "where did you just go, riss?," she glances at the other with concern in her eyes while she took her hand back in hers. "you can tell me anything, alright?"

MARISSA

Marissa hadn't even noticed that Nicola had come back across the room until the older blonde took one of her hands from around the glass and placed it in hers. She had never been the type of person to deal with her own emotions particularly openly. Marissa was the suffer alone in silence with a bottle of Jack Daniels in the dark until the emotions pass the point of being able to supress them down type. It wasn't healthy but... It was all she'd ever known. It worked... Briefly. She comes back to the room with a sigh, shaking her head a little bit as she glanced to Nicola. "I thought I-- I saw someone that I knew earlier," she muttered. "It's just been on my mind since..." Marissa swallowed before smiling at Nic as best she could. "I'm okay though... Just-- worried about you too..."

CLEO

She shouldn't. She really shouldn't keep glancing up at them, watching them. She really shouldn't torture herself like this. But she couldn't stop herself, glancing up and feeling her heart ache before trying to return to her task. Even after she finished the email and sent it, she just opened up her documents to a blank page and just type random words and letters. Just anything to make it seem that she was busy. But at this moment, she doubted that they noticed. A part of her bet that she could leave the room and neither of them would notice. She just... didn't get it. Earlier in the bar, there had been something there. A sort of connection, as if the three of them being together felt... right. But afterwards when Marissa left them to get a drink, there'd been a sudden change. Then just a few moments before as she and the brunette worked together to help calm down Nicola, it'd been there again. That connection. Then it just disappeared all over again. She sat back in her seat, staring down at the phone in her hands. But there was nothing. Just a black screen. She could hear their muffled talking but couldn't make it out. She didn't like this. She didn't like feeling like this, as if she shouldn't be here in her own fucking office with the woman she lo-... with her best friend and her lover. Yet it felt exactly like that. Pressing her lips together, she finally opened her phone up to read one of her e-books and rested her head against her hand with her elbow on the arm rest. If she was going to third wheel these two, she needs to at least keep herself busy. She wasn't going to ruin their romantic moment, even though it felt as if she was suffocating.June 30, 2020

NICOLA

nicola lets go of her hand and instead, wraps an arm around marissa's shoulder, having her rest her head on the older woman's shoulder. she felt something was going on with the other, even though it's been years since they last been this close, if seems like she could still sense it whenever something's up. "i'm going to be alright, i'm going to try," she gives her shoulder a soft squeeze. "i'm not pressuring you or forcing you, but you can tell me anything. i...i'm here now. i just....i felt you slipping away from us for a bit," she lets out a deep sigh, kissing the side of her head. "i apologize for making you worry. i...i still can't believe that he survived that." she couldn't bring herself to elaborate how it all went down with alex's father back in chicago, though she knew that the way marissa reacted seeing those scars that night, the gunshot wound, she knew the other could just tell. she held her close, glancing back at cleo who seemed to be focusing too hard on what she might be doing, or pretending that she's doing something. four years is enough for her to know whenever something is bothering her, from the way she presses her lips together, or musters up a smile, she could see right through it. "cleo, can you just....not do whatever you're doing for a second and sit with us?," she says, letting the other know that this is not just a request. "my chauffeur is almost here, and i'd like to spend the rest of my time here with you two." she couldn't explain to the other why, but they both bring such distinct kinds of tranquil that doesn't clash with one another. she could just sense it, though she knew both hasn't yet, assuming from the situation that the two doesn't know each other that well yet.

MARISSA

Marissa had no idea what this was. The whole dynamic of the three of them felt foreign in so many ways and yet, in certain moments, it felt right too. Riss ran her tongue over her bottom lip as she nodded lightly, leaning in slightly to Nicola's arm. You can tell me anything. There was a time where that was true, but now? It was different talking about what had happened. It was different talking about the past... Talking about how far away from okay she was right now? That wasn't going to help anyone, not even herself. Especially not Cleo who seemed to radiate awkwardness out into the room. This wasn't the place to have a conversation about 'where'd she gone'... They were here for Nic. "I'm okay," she nodded with a forced smile, glancing to Nic and then to Cleo. Marissa could tell when someone was pretending to work. "You don't need to give us space, honey," she added to Nicola's demand. "Come have a drink..."

CLEO

Honestly? She thought she'd become invisible to them at this point. Nicola seemed so much better now than earlier, and with Marissa she seemed... she seemed happier. But whether Cleo was a part of that equation or not, it felt up to date. It felt more so like the latter. So hearing them both call out to her... It was unexpected. She glanced up from her phone to look at them, lips pressing together softly. "I... I still have some things I need to do." Getting up from her seat, she gathered the folded costume pieces and grabbed the dirty glass. She headed their way and smiled forcefully softly. "I should probably get this to the laundry room and put the glass in the kitchen. Plus, I need to check on a few other things... But I'll have my phone on me, in case you need to reach me. Please, stay here, have a few drinks, talk with each other; I'll be back in a bit." Cleo started to make her way to the door. Nicola wanting her to stay? She believes that. But Marissa hardly knows her still. And she's not going to stay where she doesn't feel like she's completely wanted. And it's true- she does need to put these things away. So an excuse, but not completely wrong.

NICOLA

she knew there's something else behind those two words, 'i'm okay', but nicola isn't going to push it. "alright, if you say so," she kisses the side of her head and squeezes her shoulder gently once more, before she starts mindlessly playing with her hair. she raised an eyebrow at cleo's words, surprised at how she's turned the both of them down at wanting to spend some time with her before her chauffeur arrives. she knew this very well, and she's not going to let the other leave the room. "cleo." she called out her name in a tone she only uses on rare occasions, in hopes of the other to snap out of whatever she's thinking. "put down those clothes. i know someone will take care of them." the younger blonde being this distant all of a sudden doesn't sit very well with her. "come back and sit with us. i'm not saying it again."

MARISSA

Marissa knocked back the rest of her drink and placed the empty glass on the side before sighing gently and falling back into the couch some more, crossing one leg over the other. As Cleo stood up from behind the desk and began to pick things up, trying to create and excuse to leave, Marissa felt her heart drop a little and a wave of guilt wash through her. She had been the one to invade their moment, not the other way around. If anyone needed to leave, it was her. But, Marissa was also fucking stubborn so, she stayed sat down. "We have two whole days before we leave for the cabin, Cleo... That stuff can sort itself," she said gently but firmly. Then, when Nicola said 'im not saying it again', Marissa couldn't help but laugh. "Careful, sounds like she's about to get the whip out.".

CLEO

Well, fuck. She stopped halfway there, closing her eyes for a moment to take a deep breath before letting it out. She didn't want to stay in a place where she felt as if her presence wasn't wanted or needed. She didn't want to keep being a gnat that's annoying the other two. Gods, she hated feeling this way. She has never felt this way before and it was the complete opposite of who she usually was. But with that tone in Nicola's voice, she knew that she'd be in some kind of trouble. Setting the costumes and dirty glass down on a counter near the door, she grabbed one of her bottles of rum before turning around and taking a seat. Yet, she kept some distance as she leaned back into her couch, uncapping her rum and taking a huge swig of it. Fine, maybe she can deal with being the third wheel with a drink.

NICOLA

nicola couldn't help but glance at marissa's words, shaking her head. "babe....," she sighs, not really liking the awkwardness between the three of them right now. where was this atmosphere that they shared moments ago at the dive bar and when the brunette got here? it saddens her at how cleo just suddenly got distant. she moves a little bit closer to the younger blonde, concern evident on her face. "cleo, come on....," she takes another deep sigh. "i just....i want us to be okay. and we're about to spend the next couple of days with dela. i....if you changed your mind about it, you can just tell me." she takes her glass from the table and takes a long sip of her drink, hoping the heavy pang in her chest just goes away with it. not a minute longer her phone buzzed, signaling that her driver is there. "i can just head home. i'll sort this out. i apologize for....barging in here and--" she straightens her blazer up and stands up from the couch. "maybe i'll think about montauk."

MARISSA

Marissa honestly had no idea what she was doing here anymore, what was even supposed to be happening? Cleo came back, silently grabbing a bottle and drinking from it. There was clearly something going on between Cleo and Nic, that was evident from what she had walked into in the dive bar... And once again, it had been Marissa walking in again... Marissa had been the one on both occasions to walk in on these two women, and on both occasions been the one to make things awkward. Perhaps she should have just gone home, perhaps agreeing to go on this vacation was only going to make things worse. It was much easier to feel lonely when you were alone. Feeling lonely when you were surrounded by people... That was a raw pain, one that was seeping through into her right now. "You know what?" She said as she stood up and brushed her coat down. "I don't know what you were expecting from-- from all of this," Riss spoke to Nic as she gestured to the three of them. "But you two were here first, and in the dive bar... Clearly-- y'all have something you need to talk about, discuss, whatever," she shrugged her shoulders a little and shook her head. "I'm walking home... I doubt I'd make good company tonight anyway," Riss flicked her hair back a little. "Stay." She told Nicola before looking down to Cleo. "I didn't mean to interrupt," Riss softly smiled before glancing back at Nicola and then turning to walk out.

CLEO

What the fuck. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuuuuuuuuuuuck? Cleo had no idea what was going on now, what kind of mess she felt she created. But seeing the both of them upset now... Gods, she felt guilty. They were both standing... Marissa was leaving... Was Nicola going to leave her, too? Was she not going to be at Cleo's penthouse later? Fuck, were they both not going to go to Montauk with her and Cordelia? No. No, she was not going to allow this. She created this mess and gods dammit, she's going to clean it. "No," she finally said, setting her bottle down on the table and quickly getting up. She quickly made her way to Marissa, taking her by the hand and intertwining her fingers. "You are not going to leave," she told her, looking back at Nicola. "Neither are you. The both of you are not going to be leaving unless the three of us are all leaving together." Looking at the brunette again, she tried to calm herself. "I am not going to sit around and be a third wheel for you two. Nor am I going to allow you to feel like that either. I don't... I don't know how to go about this. And we don't know each other still. There's so much that we need to talk and work on- but dammit, we need to work on that together. The three of us." Looking back at Nic, she held her hand out to her. "I'm sorry," she mused softly, those words... Those words being something she didn't take lightly. She never apologized unless she fully and truly meant it. And she knows that the older blonde knows that. "I'm sorry for making things awkward. I don't... I don't know how to act in this sort of situation. But I really, really don't want either of you to leave. I want you both to come home with me tonight. I want the both of you to come to Montauk with me and my daughter. I don't want to watch either of you leave. If there's any leaving involve, I want it to be us three together and back home. And I don't... I don't want to risk losing out on something that could be great. So... Please. Please don't leave, the both of you. I want to make things right and I'm sorry for acting like that. I'm sorry for creating an awkward space between us. Please... Let's go home, the three of us together, and let me make things right. A chance. That's all I ask of you two."

NICOLA

nicola just stood there and watched things progress in front of her. her phone started buzzing again, and she picks it up. "give me five minutes." she hangs it up quickly, putting it back in her purse. she doesn't know how to deal with this either, but huge part of her wants this to work, she wants things to work between her, marissa and cleo. both women are important to her life and she just couldn't risk one of them. she figured, maybe it's a shock for both, or maybe they're unaware of what to do, or how to deal with this, them three being together. and hearing cleo say 'i'm sorry'....that was something that only happens once in a blue moon, and her saying it now.....this must be really important to her too. she takes marissa's hand this time and looks at her in the eyes, pleading for her to stay. it wasn't just because she wanted to make sure she's always safe, that she wants to looks after her and cleo, but she needs them both, she needs them and cordelia, to be away from the world and its prying eyes for a while. "the chauffeur is waiting outside," she looks at the two. "i just want to be able to be out of this place for a while, to have you two with me. that's all i'm asking."

MARISSA

As Cleo took hold of her hand, Marissa closed her eyes for a moment and took in a long breath. "The three of us?" She asked, finally turning back around and looking between the two women. "What--" she paused, not wanting to talk out of pure emotion... Not wanting to cause anymore pain tonight. "What exactly is-- this?" Marissa was not the type of person to half-step into things, she was all in or all out. Full feelings, or none at all. Flirting around the idea of love with Nicola had been scary enough and now... Cleo? Both of them seemed to be on the same page, they both seemed to know what they wanted out of this, but Marissa? She was scared. Letting two people in meant giving two people the power to leave... Because, everyone does in the end, don't they? "You-- you have nothing to be sorry for Cleo," she breathed out with a small sigh, looking at the younger blonde. God, it felt like she hadn't even had a drink, a wicked sobriety filling her up. "Fine-- fine..." She succeeded to the other two women's pleas but took her own hands back and ran one down her face. "It's been a long night... Let's just go..."

CLEO

Once again, she was holding her breath. But this time, the release was... hopeful. Them both hearing her pleas and deciding to stay... that was huge. And she smiled up at them warmly, eyes flitting from one woman to the other. "We can figure that out? We can at least try. Because... back in the bar... and when you got here... there was something there. And I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who felt that. I want to give it, this, a chance. Find out exactly what this is." If she was right... Then she was pretty sure she had an idea of what this was. Or at least, what this could be. And she wanted to give it a try. Cleo smiled softly at her words, gently reaching up to tuck some of Riss's hair behind her ear. "I don't... I don't use those words a lot. Not unless I mean it," she promised. Promises and apologies were huge for her. She doesn't take them so lightly. The younger blonde nodded, smiling at both women. "Let's head home."

NICOLA

this is a big deal for nicola, she isn't sure what it is that she shares with marissa and cleo, yet something tell her to take a dive in it. there could be a reason why she and marissa are back in each other's lives again, and cleo has been there through the hard times. she used to not believe in fate or destiny, this is something lauren strongly believes in when she was still alive, perhaps she's got a point. maybe.....this is her telling nicola something, why she's put in the lives of these two incredible women. 'i trust you with this, lo,' she thought to herself. she looks at the two women in front of her before leading them out of cleo's office. this is going to be an interesting next couple of days.