#expect some Through the Looking Glass references in a later chapter too

[threewaysdivided]

Jade could move like smoke, shape herself into whatever she needed to survive and leave people with nothing but a smile.  ‘Like a Cheshire Cat’.  Not Artemis.  Something in her refused to bend that way, refused to form a smooth mask over what she felt.  Too much like Alice - unable to believe impossible things.  She’d made herself a stone instead.

On this week's Work In Progress Wednesday Deathly Weapons excerpt: 3WD has read Lewis Carroll and is going to make it the Crock-Nguyen sisters' problem.

(Banner from @purpleyin's regency set)

[st-kitten]

707

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WARNINGS: (m.) masturbation, nicknames (baby, babygirl, good girl, princess, pretty girl) little megumi being painstakingly adorable

life as a single father trying to make ends meet was hard for toji fushiguro. his job as a security guard for some company didn't pay much. whatever he earned went into bills, rent, and groceries, leaving next to nothing for him to save or even spend. how he wished there was a simpler way to earn. he'd be exhausted by the time he came home and crashed, only to be woken up by megumi. as much as he loved the kid, getting him ready for school and out the door was harder than an mma fight.

all the babysitters he hired were useless. most of them agreed just to get into his pants so, when they found out that they were hired 'because' he couldn't be home, they left in disappointment.

toji never relied on his neighbours either. partially because they were too old or kids themselves, with parents who also hired babysitters. the closest anyone ever came to being a candidate was his next door neighbour, you.

but he vowed to never approach you. even if it meant leaving megumi to cry midday, over a glass of spilled milk. why?

[flashback]

toji had just helped megumi catch the school bus. waving him goodbye, he went back inside the building. the days got colder each passing day, which meant that he was going to have to repair the broken heater and buy some warm clothes. how ever was he going to afford it in time?

collecting the mail, he stood in the temporary warmth of the elevator, yawning. he really wanted to go back to sleep. his work began at 10 am, so he still had two hours, maybe he could take a nap. or fix that heater himself.

he stood in front of his apartment, looking through his pockets for the keys when he heard muffled noises from the apartment next door. he had only seen you once, when he accidentally took your mail instead of his and had to give it back to you. you always seemed distant and cold, so hearing you softly, yet loudly screaming a series of "yes! yes! keep doing that!" at 8 am made him wonder what the fuck was wrong with you.

he let it slide. people had lives.

but you didn't stop there. when toji came back from his work at night, holding a bag of vegetables, he heard you again.

"oh god! yes!"

and two days later when toji brought megumi home early as he got sick in school, "just like that, baby!" he had to keep babbling random trivia to his son so that he wouldn't hear you. how many times is she going to do this?

when it was toji's day off, and he was taking a nap on the couch, he heard you moaning again. it wasn't that loud, but the single wall between your apartment and his did a terrible job at muffling it. toji was glad that megumi was at school.

[back in present time]

months had passed by and he was still not used to hearing you. he'd forgotten what you looked like, so he didn't recognise you whenever you passed by him or even when you were in the elevator with him. all he knew was that he hated you for being so disturbing.

the day he was dreading finally came when he wanted someone to look after megumi for the night as he had to cover someone's shift, and not a single person was available. with an ale tankard of reluctance, he rang the doorbell, truly expecting you to open it naked, some angry fucker peeking from behind 'cause he didn't get to finish...

so when you opened the door looking the complete opposite; wearing loose sweatpants, a barbie hoodie, house slippers and your hair tied in a messy bun, half a banana dangling in your mouth... toji held back a sigh of relief.

"hey... i'm toji, i live next door," he said, trying to sound sincere.

"i mow woo yooah," you said, chewing the banana quickly, and swallowed it.

"right... listen, i gotta cover an extra shift and i need someone to look after this brat for the night."

you held back a laugh upon hearing him refer to his son like that. you'd only seen megumi from a distance. but, you had no reason to refuse.

"sure! i'd be happy to!"

toji was still unsure about this, but there was no backing out now.

"cool. i'll send him in twenty minutes." toji vanished before you could say anything else. you chuckled to yourself. for a man of his size and built, he sure was a chicken when it came to communication.

you cleaned your living room before he could come back. your place was kid-friendly enough. you made sure you prep the kitchen in case he hadn't had dinner.

your doorbell rang and you scurried to open it.

"here's a list of things you'll have to do... he's... a little tough. but he's a good kid."

you took the list and gave it a brief look and nodded.

"alright, megs, you're gonna be staying with this lady today. i'll be back soo-"

megumi began tugging his father's pants grumpily, upset at his words.

"don't be like that, kid..." toji sighed. he didn't like to exhibit his personal life in front of others.

"please? i'll get you ice cream."

megumi's ears perked upon hearing ice cream. "chocolate?" he cooed.

"yes. now go inside."

clutching a tattered dog plushie (with two heads for some reason), he stepped inside your apartment, looking down.

toji knelt down to meet his eyes. straightening megumi's sweater, he said, "i'll be back tomorrow morning. behave, okay?" megumi nodded, almost on the verge of crying. you held back the 'awwws'.

"alright... i'm trusting you. don't f- mess it up," said toji, looking at you with a glare.

"i won't..." you just smiled solemnly. you'd say the same if you were in his position.

toji wanted to tell you to not have sex for that one night, but he chose not to add fuel to the fire. who was he to tell you not to fuck? if anything, he was mildly jealous that you got to enjoy it so much.

toji left and you turned back to megumi, who was standing in your living room, anxious to move a muscle.

you sighed. "hello, megumi. i'm y/n." you crouched down and held out your hand to him. he hesitated before holding three of your fingers and shaking them. you smiled.

"sorry about this... you don't know me at all and now you're stuck with me. must be weird."

megumi stayed silent. you got up and went to the kitchen, which was open and visible from your living room easily. you opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of chocolate milk that you'd gotten free with something.

"would you like some?" you shook the carton. megumi loved chocolate in any form. not wanting to sound too excited or desperate, he gave a curt nod. you poured him a cup of milk and handed it to him.

"you can sit down wherever you want."

megumi scanned the room and spotted a bean bag. he'd never seen one. he looked at you and then back at it.

"you wanna sit there? sure!" you placed a hand on his head and led him to the corner. you held his cup for him while he tried to sit. he immediately sank into the bean bag, hearing the sound of tiny malleable balls that shifted as he sat down. megumi's eyes widened as he tried not to bolt out of there. when he was settled down, he found it pretty comfortable. he liked how he could stretch his legs and sit at the same time.

"comfy, right?" you said, handing him his cup of chocolate milk. the way he held it with both hands made you want to scream in a pillow. no way that asscrack of a man was his father.

you went over the list once more. it was simple. bedtime was 9 PM, no allergies, likes sweet food, but easily gets a sugar rush, etc. you laughed at the numerous spelling mistakes in it.

"so, what do you like to do?" you asked, sitting down on the floor in front of him.

megumi didn't like talking to babysitters. mostly because they never paid attention to him. he didn't like how they bossed him around. or how they got mad when he asked them if they could play with him. so he would stay silent. nobody ever asked him what he liked to do, so your question caught him by surprise.

he thought about it. what did he like to do?

"paint..."

"you paint?" you asked. you always liked the idea of kids drawing and painting.

megumi nodded. he was obsessed with a box of paints his father had bought him ages ago. the paints were long dried and over. but he still dipped his brush into them, watering them and painting with whatever colour came out of it.

you didn't have paints or brushes that he could use... but an idea struck you and you wondered whether he'd like it.

"wanna paint my room?" you suddenly said.

megumi's eyes lit up with curiosity. won't your walls get damaged? what if he spilled paint on the floor? or on you?

"the walls in my room are sad and empty. i have some paint cans that the painters forgot about when i was renovating. there are some colours still left. what do you say?"

megumi nodded. you got up and went into your room, searching for a shirt you give him as overalls. you pulled out the paint cans from under your bed. you took an old shirt of yours and brought it to him in the living room.

megumi had finished drinking his milk, so he thought he'd keep the cup back. hearing you call his name startled him and he dropped the cup, watching it shatter into pieces. he tensed up and felt his eyes water. you were going to scold him, punish him, maybe even hit him. he deserved it. he broke your cup.

"oh my, are you okay?" you rushed to his side, crouching and checking him for wounds.

"sorry... sorr-" megumi tried his best not to cry. he was expecting an earful at any moment now.

"why?" it was all you asked.

megumi looked at you in shock.

"cup..."

you chuckled sympathetically. "so? cups break all the time."

"i break cup..."

you stood up, unsure of how to convince him that he did nothing wrong.

"okay... you broke the cup." there it was. you were angry. megumi was going to get scolded.

instead, he watched you pick another cup from the shelf. you took the cup, and angling it far from megumi, you threw it.

"and i broke a cup too. guess we're both clumsy..." you shrugged and picked up the pieces, swiping the rest with a broom and tossing them in the garbage.

megumi didn't know what to say. had he really done nothing wrong? it was just a cup... yeah, just a cup.

"come, let's paint my room," you held out your hand to him. slowly, he grabbed it, walking behind you towards your room. your hands were soft and warm. and you didn't pull him or drag him. instead you were walking slower just for him. why were you so kind?

you brought him to your room and asked him to help you spread newspapers on the floor. then you handed him a shirt, helping him put it on since it was huge for him. he looked like a penguin.

"megumi... please, i'll give you more chocolate milk, but can i please take your picture? you're too cute," you asked, clutching your heart.

megumi blushed and nodded, looking away.

you clicked at least twenty pictures of him in your shirt, holding a thick paintbrush, standing on newspaper barefoot. you made a mental note to send these to toji.

"alright, pick your colours."

megumi carefully scanned each colour. then he looked at you. he didn't want to mess up this opportunity. it wasn't every day that he got to paint a wall instead of paper. he wanted to make sure you'd like it.

you seemed the type of person who would appear stern, but on the inside, you were really soft and caring. like a marshmallow. he wanted the room to suit you. being the observant kid, he looked around the room and learned that you liked necklaces, most of which looked like fancy saturns (iykyk). you also liked flowers as there were vases on your nightstand, windowsill and some were on your bookshelves. you also had a lot of books. what really caught megumi's attention was that you had three guitars hung on the wall. your room was totally your personality. he knew what he wanted to paint.

megumi pointed to a few colours and you handed him a few brushes of different sizes. he dipped one in red paint and began painting a few strokes on the wall (only after glancing back at you a hundred times in case you changed your mind). you sat on the bed, watching him focus. he was definitely smarter than kids his age. you admired him.

after a while, you left the room, telling him that you were going to make dinner. curry rice got an approval from him, so you occupied yourself in the kitchen, humming to yourself. you wondered what all he had painted in your absence. you didn't really care about the wall; you only hoped he'd feel safe enough to be a child.

you finished cooking and plated the food, setting on the kitchen island you used as a dining table. you pulled a chair and stacked some couch pillows on it, increasing the height of the seat. you called to megumi, but he didn't answer.

you stepped into the room to call him for dinner again, but no words came from your mouth as you stared at your wall, awestruck.

megumi had painted so many flowers and vines that ran across your wall in different colours. he'd even mixed a few colours and created new ones. he drew the saturn orbs matching your jewellery in the center of some flowers. though he could only paint a part of it and couldn't reach higher, the wall looked full of life.

"megumi..."

he looked at you, anxious to hear what you had to say.

you stood behind him, admiring the wall.

"you made my wall magical. this is so beautiful!"

megumi had a tiny smile on his face.

"you're an artist, gumi" you said, ruffling his hair, and he blushed at the nickname you gave him. nobody ever gave him a nickname apart from his father. people would often forget his name.

he felt his chest swell with pride and happiness. he did a good job.

"let's put fairy lights on the wall!" you chirped and he nodded.

you helped him out of his shirt, tossing it into the laundry basket. you sat him down on the high chair and you both sat down for dinner. megumi liked the food. but he truly loved how you let him be himself without bossing him around. it finally dawned on him that he had broken your cup, painted your wall, and was eating your food and you had absolutely no problem with it. he felt himself breathe freely.

after dinner, he helped you clean the room and stick fairy lights all across your room. you went overboard with it, but when you switched them on and lay on the bed watching them twinkle, it felt worth it.

"we did a good job, today." you gave him a high five.

megumi yawned and you took it as a sign to prep him for bed. toji forgot to give you his toothbrush, so you tore him a new one. you wouldn't dare let a child sleep in the living room, so you tucked him in your bed. you were so glad you bought that expensive comforter because seeing megumi snuggle into it turned your eyes into beating hearts.

upon his request, you tucked in his ominous dog plushie with him and bid him goodnight. megumi fell asleep easily, snoring softly. you made rounds to the room to check on him and felt your heart melt every time. he was definitely an active sleeper. his positions would get bizarre every time and you'd pull the comforter on him properly each time.

you finally slept on your couch around midnight.

toji didn't sleep a wink. the world's most boring job had him awake all night, opening gates for rich snobs who partied and returned to the semi-residential building at odd hours.

the only thing on his mind was megumi. he prayed that you weren't fucking someone with him in the house. he wondered if he'd eaten. he wondered if he was asleep right now. he hoped you gave him his demon dog to sleep with.

when dawn broke, he was out of there. he drove his dying truck straight to the parking and dashed out of the car. he decided to grab his and your mail, just so he'd have an extra excuse to knock on your door.

he didn't bother asking you for a key. he just yanked open the letterbox and it easily came into his hand. he grabbed whatever was in it.

"did you hear apartment 707? so loud.... that too in the morning"

"how could i not? but, im not surprised..."

toji heard two ladies gossip, waiting for the elevator. 707... his apartment was 706, so it had to be you. he was going to murder you.

he sped in and out of the elevator, rushing to your place. expecting to hear the sound of sex, he stopped in his tracks... you were not having sex? your door was conveniently ajar and toji spotted a few empty cans of paint outside.

he opened the door, peeking in, only to see... his adorable five year old son, jumping around and dancing with you to a christmas song, decorating a large tree in your living room. (christmas tree farm by the one and only... blondie)

if toji could explain how much he wanted to giggle at the sight, he would. but he only watched the two of you, leaning against the doorframe, hands folded, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"where every wish comes true!!!" you sang, hanging the ornaments miscellaneously. megumi poked your leg and you picked him up, helping him tie a bell around a branch.

you swayed and danced to the beat with megumi on your shoulders, who laughed loudly.

toji felt his heart melt upon hearing his son laugh. he hadn't heard that sound in a long time.

he looked around and spotted a plate of half-eaten pancakes and glasses of milk. did you drink milk with him? he held back a laugh.

as you turned around, you spotted toji and nearly threw yourself in the tree.

"dad!" megumi chirped, happy to see his father. toji took it as an invitation to come inside. seeing megumi almost as tall as him, he chuckled and looked him in the eye.

"here's your ice cream, stinky," he said, holding a bag full of ice cream cups.

megumi giggled.

toji smiled widely and you sobbed at how cute the kid was. you placed him down and he ran to his father, clinging to his knee. you took the ice cream bag from toji and placed it on the kitchen counter taking the contents out.

[next song: under the tree by sam palladio]

you handed megumi a cup of chocolate ice cream and the uselessly small wooden spoon that came with it.

"which one do you want?" you asked toji who had yawned at least a dozen times by now.

"anything is fine."

you tossed him the pinkest strawberry ice cream cup. he rolled his eyes, but began eating it anyway. you sat next to him on the couch. megumi insisted on sitting under the tree, on the tree-skirt, looking up at the lights and the ornaments from below.

"oh! look!" you said, pulling your phone out to show toji pictures of little megumi in an oversized shirt holding a paintbrush.

"what's this?" toji asked. though his kid looked cute, he still didn't know what happened when he was away.

"yeah, he painted my wall," you replied.

"HE WHAT?" toji asked, surprised. megumi never misbehaved. but i guess he finally snapped.

"yeah! it's so beautiful, i can't stop staring at it," you began mumbling.

this kid ruined your walls and you're happy about it? he thought you'd scold him.

"come, i'll show you," you signalled him to follow you and toji did, worried about the mess his son had made.

he also did not want to see your room, given that he'd heard you have sex plenty of times for it to etch in his mind like a song that just doesn't fucking leave.

he was not expecting for your room to be so... pleasant and unsuspecting. you had a queen-sized bed with fluffy pillows, plants in the room, some equipment on the desk. hell, instead of sex, it smelled like coconut.

you showed him the art megumi had blessed your wall with.

"he's great at painting!"

toji's eyes widened at the intricate designs on the wall. had megumi really painted this? was he this good at it?

"it's... good..." toji didn't know what to say. he felt really sad that his son was capable of something so great and yet toji couldn't do more for him.

you smiled, somehow understanding what he was feeling. it was the same thing you felt about yourself when you realised your love for music.

toji asked you to send him the pictures and you complied. he looked around your room in silence, not knowing what to do. but he decided to address the former elephant in the room.

"can i ask you something?"

"sure," you said, looking down at your phone.

"i don't have the right to pry in your personal life, but... next time you have someone over, keep it down? i don't want megumi to hear... that..."

"huh?"

"you know... what you and your boyfriend do..."

"i don't have one?"

"then whoever you bring home to fuck... just please, keep the volume low," said toji impatiently.

"i didn't bring any... oh, you heard that!" you said as it dawned on you.

"yeah, whatever that is..." toji wanted to hide his face. it felt like giving a child 'the talk'. and you weren't that old too...

"toji..." you called, holding back your laugh. he wondered what was so funny.

"i'm not having sex in here. what you've been hearing..." you almost held it back... "was me recording for quinn."

"huh?"

you sighed as you explained, "it's an app for people who like listening to spicy stories... i'm one of their narrators... i try to pick times when people are busy or not here... but oh my god, i'm so sorry you had to hear that..." you said with a laugh, grabbing his arm apologetically.

toji digested every word you said.

"why on earth would you do that?"

"it pays really well, you know..." you shrugged.

now you had toji's attention. "you get paid for speaking dirty?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"and narrating, reading lines, moaning, whimpering, shouting... the works."

"that's an odd job..." he commented. it truly was. he had no idea things like these existed.

"i'm a singer by profession, so this is just a side hustle. my room is soundproof so i can't hear outside noises, but sadly..."

"you're not ashamed?"

"why would i be? it's great that people like it. you should try listening to some."

"please, no," toji held his palm out to her. he heard you chuckle. "aren't you worried that people might find out about you?"

"of course i don't use my real name."

toji shook his head in disbelief.

"i know you're ancient, but try it someday. who knows, you might end up liking it," you said, showing him the app on your phone.

toji stared at you with a blank face. he wasn't that behind the times, was he? he snuck a glance at your screen, his eyes falling on your username in a corner. embarrassed, he swatted your hand away and you chucked.

"anyway, thanks for looking after my kid." toji got up and left your room as you trotted behind him.

"anytime!"

toji left with megumi, after thanking you once more and making his kid to the same. megumi had definitely enjoyed he spent with you. he wished he could do it again.

a few days passed by and megumi started to become more interactive with you, waving at you, telling about his day when you rode the elevator together, giving you some small sketches he made after you gave him a sketchbook and some colour pencils.

toji still hadn't warmed up to you, but he wasn't as dismissive as he used to be. in fact, he had gotten slightly curious about you. you lived a quiet life, or so it seemed on the outside. but he knew what you did and how unbothered you were about it.

why would people pay to listen to strangers moaning? it seemed bizarre to him. he tried to ignore it.

he was stuck on another night shift, leaving megumi with you. he was glad that his son didn't mind you. and you'd proven to be a capable babysitter. yet, all he wanted was to be near his son. home. the night couldn't get over any sooner.

toji sat in the booth provided to him, watching the streets. nights when people came and went by were just as boring as when nobody showed up. he contemplated taking a nap, but the last thing he wanted was to be fired for slacking off. especially when the night shift paid him a bit more.

he turned side to side in the swivel chair, groaning in frustration. so far, he'd watched eight mma matches on his phone, cussing at how pathetic they were. nothing entertained him enough to keep him awake.

that thing embedded in his subconscious mind suddenly resurfaced, making him gulp in guilt. he could do it. it's not like she'll know... as if he was being watched, toji switched the light off in his booth and discreetly took his phone out, lowering the brightness and pulling out a tangled pair of earphones, and plugged them in. he downloaded that app, signing in with a random email he'd created ages ago.

[mention; compromised: victoria pedretti, on quinn]

he remembered her username and typed it in. not wanting to dwell too much on it, he clicked on the first 'story' he saw. he didn't read the description. he had no idea what he was to expect. thankfully, the audio started with some context. he instantly recognised your voice. based on what he understood in the first few minutes of the introductory chapter, it was a story about an agent watching over the witness she was supposed to protect. he realised that it was a woman x woman story. not that he minded. he just enjoyed listening to your voice. you surely had a singer's voice.

the more he listened, the more engrossed he was in the plot.

"i can stay on the line, sure..." you said, as your character stood below a hotel, at a distance, watching the woman you were on the phone with, from the window, keeping an eye out.

"you're not wearing anything underneath... i might not be the only person watching, you know," you chuckled. your laugh sounded better all over, probably due to the recording quality. toji paid attention to everything he heard.

"...tell me where you're touching...does it feel good?"

"i wanna see your other hand on your breast..."

"do you want me in that room?" your voice was laced with quick breaths...

"now i'm gonna hang up...no, not to touch myself... I don't care that you're close!"

toji sighed in exasperation, truly engrossed in the story.

"wait, shit, there is a man... fuck i think he's armed..."

toji had never clicked on 'next' that fast in his life. okay, he was hooked. when he first heard about this from you, he thought it was just audio-porn. he didn't expect a full on story with a plot, internal monologue, the background noises. it was as if it was happening around him.

the next chapter had you grunt and scream as you fought some attacker. how on earth did she record this shit? was she also fighting in the apartment? he smirked, realising what a double life she was leading.

"i saw that smirk, don't get any ideas..." you said coincidentally and toji had to look around him for a moment.

"you're very, very distracting..." your voice seemed closer whenever the background music got fainter. maybe it was the mic or some technical tweaking. but it really sounded like you were speaking in his ear.

your pants were now mixed with small laughs. it sounded blissful.

"don't ever be sorry for kissing me..." toji was surprisingly okay with hearing sounds of you kissing, probably another woman.

"oh, these lips... can i? touch them? fuck..." you moaned slightly... and then laughed. "did you just bite my thumb? you're so bad... i might have to punish you."

toji had to grasp his phone tightly as heard you make out, hearing your breaths mingled with the sounds of your lips moving against someone else's. you sounded so different, so confident.

"you like that, don't you? me on my knees... touching you, licking you, tasting you..."

fuck

toji knew you were saying this to a woman, but he couldn't help picturing himself in her place. your hums, whimpers, breaths, they were all elevating his senses. he felt his pants tighten.

"yes, fuck..."

"i love your neck..." you panted. toji raised his head, gulping.

"you're so hot... fuck... me..." your moans had started to get louder, breathier.

"what if i don't wanna hurry? what if... i wanna make you beg for it?" toji instinctively let his hand wander down his body, to his pants. he loosened his belt. he slid his pants and boxers down just enough for his dick to spring out, harder than he expected it to be. your constant moans, whimpers and dirty words became music to his ears as he stroked his cock slowly.

"tell me how good it feels..."

toji groaned, quickening his speed, his eyes closed, his mind visualising your face. he imagined you doing everything he heard you do on the phone. touching him, licking him, tasting him... he fisted his cock to the sounds of your sweet voice, shamelessly.

"so good..." he hissed, as if to answer you, gliding his fist up and down his thick veiny cock, its tip glistening proudly.

"come for me, yes! yes! yes! fuuuuck..." you moan loudly, dragging the last word, breathing shakily.

"god..." toji gave up any restraint he had and let his cock burst like a dam, spoiling his pants.

he was high. high on your voice, your moans, your words. he wished he could experience it for the first time again.

a shrieking honk from the gate snapped toji back into reality. he zipped back up in a hurry, shoving his half-hard cock in his pants. he tied a jacket around his waist to hide it and scurried out of the booth to open the gate.

toji came home early in the morning, feeling floaty. he couldn't forget last night's events. not when you were right there. next door. probably recording the next one. toji didn't know how he was to face you, but he was damn sure about hearing you again.

and hear you he did. for days. he was finding the plot interesting too. but he was addicted to your voice. how were you so confident? how did you manage to record the perfect moans. did you have help? did you get off just to get a good audio? all these questions plagued toji's mind. he really wanted to ask you about it.

but how was he to do it without sounding like a creep? or worse, a pervert? but then again, you did till him about it yourself.

so, when he had to collect megumi from your house after coming back, he came up with the simplest excuse.

"see you later, gumi!" you ruffled his hair, watching him run to his father, who told him to go inside and wait for him.

before you could shut the door, he shoved his foot inside. "hey, uh... i had a question."

"come in..." you moved aside.

you were hungry, but didn't have the time to buy groceries. so, instant ramen it was...

toji followed you to the kitchen, rehearsing the imminent conversation in his head.

"what's wrong?" you asked, looking at his tensed brow.

"i'm a little starved for cash. megumi's birthday is coming and i want to give that urchin something good this time."

"awww..."

"you uh..." was he really going to ask that? would she even listen? "you were talking about that..."

you on the other hand, knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. so many of your friends had tried to do that same. the fact that toji was considering doing that made the composer in you mildly excited.

"you want to earn cash on quinn, am i right?"

toji's head shot up, looking at you, slightly horrified and ready to get his ass kicked out the door.

"alright."

"wait, what?"

"i'll help you... sell your voice."

"are you serious?"

"do i look like i'm joking?"

"would i even... be able to... you know..."

you leaned on the kitchen island, looking at toji, who had sat down in a chair across from you.

"just do it..."

"you expect me to do it just like that?" he asked.

"what, like it's hard?" you snorted.

toji just looked at you blankly. "you mean, you do it just like that?"

"women are expert at faking it, you know?" you smirked.

toji scoffed in disbelief, rolling his eyes.

wickedly, you began panting, whimpering, opening your mouth as lewd moans spilled out of you. you gripped the edge of the kitchen island, and whined, "yes! toji! just like that!"

toji felt like he'd been shot in the head... both, his heads... he felt a bulge in his pants. hearing you moan and actually seeing you moan were two different things. the way your eyes shut tight, brow creased, mouth opened and chest heaved, toji couldn't take his eyes of you.

you saw his reaction through squinted eyes and stopped, reverting to your normal self, scratching the back of your head, completely unbothered.

"so yes, toji... just like that..." you said, without the moans this time.

toji gulped.

"so, do you wanna record a demo? i can send it to my agent. if she likes it, she'll ask you to record a proper script."

toji sighed... what was he getting into? he didn't actually imagine himself doing it. would it be embarrassing? no, fuck it. he could really use the extra cash.

"no one can know," he said sternly.

"you can use a pseudonym. you can literally put an emoji as your name."

"whatever. as long as nobody can trace it back to me."

"i guarantee you they won't. let's send an anonymous demo, 'kay?"

"fine. but, i don't know how to do this shit. it's too... fucking dumb."

you chuckled. "it is. dumb and fun. but doesn't it make you feel... like a king, knowing that the world gets off to your voice?"

toji scoffed and smirked. oh, how he wished she knew that he had been getting off to her voice nearly every damn night, palming his dick, picturing you saying all those dirty things to him.

he followed you to your bedroom where you had set up your mic, your laptop, you desk, under a labyrinth of wires and cables. he was made to sit in the chair facing the mic. the fuck am i doing...

you tapped on your laptop, leaning forward on the desk. toji's hammering anxiety took a break when he realised how close you were. your tits were practically in his face. he'd only ever seen you in baggy clothing, so this was a pleasant surprise. they were big. but they'd easily fit in his hands. he was a little disgusted by the fact that he was severely attracted to you.

"okay... what would you like to say?"

"i don't know..."

"what are your go-to swear words?"

"uh... fuck?"

"and?"

"i don't swear because of my kid... so, i don't know... this is difficult, y/n..."

"what do you have to fear?"

she was right. what was he to lose? to fear? nothing. he knew how hot was. he knew ladies threw themselves at him. he knew his sex appeal was impeccable. so then why was this so difficult?

oh, he knew why. you. it was because of you. the way he'd listened to your moans all week, stealing glances at you whenever he saw you, and now that he was in your bedroom with you...

fuck that! this bitch just faked an orgasm in front of me without a problem. i can at least spit out a few sentences.

"how do you start?"

"well, i usually have a script and there's good enough build up."

"so, give me one of your scripts."

"really? you wanna say, 'touch my pussy'?"

"fuck no. ugh, this is frustrating," he groaned loudly, leaning back and running his hands through his hair.

"hey, wait, that's good!"

"huh?"

"say it again."

"this... is frustrating?"

"tojiiiii," you rolled your eyes and smacked his arm. "say it like you did before. with the groan and all."

"i can't just do it on command."

"do you want me to leave you here alone with a gravure magazine then?"

toji's narrowed his eyes at her. "you read those?"

"no, but, you get the point."

toji sighed. you thought of another way to get him riled up. if a sexy audio wasn't gonna happen, then an angry one it was... there were plenty of angsty stories in demand. you clicked on record without him knowing.

"stop acting like a virgin, toji," you said and he shot you a glare. you let your mouth run a marathon, "no, for real, you're a grown ass man with a nice, deep voice. you look like you'd be pissed off if someone so much as looks at you wrong. or worse, if someone tries to mess with your son-"

"watch your mouth," toji growled, grabbing your jaw with his fingers, pressing it tightly.

"or what?"

"or you regret ever letting me in this house. that kid fucking loves you. you keep him out of this. do not... ever use him... to use me," he snarled.

you pressed the spacebar to stop recording. toji pulled his hand back, putting two and two together.

"that... was something."

"i mean it."

"sorry... but damn, angry toji... is sexy..." you commented.

"yeah? you like that?" toji said with a smirk. you squealed, regretting not recording that.

"SAY THAT AGAIN." you began recording again.

toji let out a deep chuckle. "you want me to say that again, pretty girl?" oh, he was starting to get into it.

you nodded.

"beg for it..." toji whispered, slightly closer to the mic. he watched you hold back another squeal.

"use your words, baby."

you were almost jumping up and down at how good he sounded. you really wanted to use his voice. you figured your agent would ignore yours and focus on his.

you exhaled, "please, please say it again!"

"hmm..." toji's baritone voice reverberated in the mic. "that doesn't sound so convincing, princess..."

you banged the air above the desk, pursing your lips and grinned.

"please please please! i'll do anything!"

oh, toji was starting to see the fun in it. "anything, you say..."

"yes! whatever you say!" you too were blending well with him.

"get on your knees, then baby..." he said brusquely.

your jaw dropped, morphing into a wide smile as you silently cheered him. toji found your reactions entertaining. true, you'd been doing this longer than him, so you were probably used to hearing all that. you were genuinely enjoying him.

you gave him a thumbs up and he made his closing statement, making sure to murmur, "good girl..."

you stopped recording and grabbed toji by his shoulders, shaking him. "AAARRRRGGGH. you are a natural!!!!!"

toji smirked. that was oddly easy to do. mostly because you helped him into it.

"well, i'm not one to brag..."

"no, please brag."

"heh. do you think your agent will like it?"

"she will eat it. she will want to become it."

"how much do you make exactly?" he asked.

"i had to do a lot of small freebies until i got my big break. i made [good amount] per episode. i've done three stories, each with twelve chapters. im working on a fourth one... so it's incomplete."

that must have been the one toji had listened to the first time. he did click the first thing he saw. he'd been replaying the first three episodes over and over, coming undone to them. but now that you'd said there were more...

"that's actually very..."

"rich, right? i was surprised too."

"so, you're gonna send it to your agent now?"

"yep. she'll like it. under what name do you want it?"

toji thought about it. he couldn't have this traced back to him. not with megumi's life at risk. it had to be something entirely random. yet meaningful...

"how about... 707?"

you grinned. that was a smart pseudonym. "done."

"well... tell me how it goes. and once again... not a word about this in public. what happens in this room, stays in this room," he warned you.

"WAIT SAY THAT AGAIN!"

toji chuckled as he stood up to leave and rejoin his son. before he did, he inched closer to you and whispered in your ear, "beg for it, babygirl."

you groaned and flapped your hands, fanning yourself. "you're so good at this!"

you'd sent that clip to your agent and got a response from her a few days later. to say the least, you were surprised by her request.

so, you stood at toji's door, phone in hand. he opened it.

"'sup?"

"it's my agent."

toji shut the door behind him, not wanting megumi to hear anything.

"what'd she say?"

you simply held out your phone and the text she sent you.

'WHO IS THAT?' 'GIRL LOCK THAT MAN IN THE BASEMENT' 'he's got the job if he wants it. i just got a killer script! the only condition is'

toji raised an eyebrow at the last message.

'you both have to do it together'

[from-the-clouds]

texas sun - joel miller x f!reader - vol. 1

series masterlist | series playlist | writing masterlist |

summary: When you let your new neighbor’s daughter inside to call her father from your landline, you never expect to be dealing with the fallout twenty years later. Series will take place before and after the outbreak, and is partially inspired by this request. Slow-burn(ish), eventual smut. pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader words: 6.4k chapter warnings: mentions of/encounters with a drunk person, references to absent parents, i imply that both reader (and joel) like pineapple on pizza. a/n: i need to get my shit together and make a proper masterlist/post for this series but i'm absolute garbage with photoshop/making collages so that is a project for another day!! for now, i wanted to get this first part out to ya'll. i watched a playthrough of the game too so ill be including some references to that throughout the series. this will be some hallmark-movie ass romance so strap in!! this chapter was super fun to write and i loved writing for reader and sarah, give it a read and let me know what you think!

-March 7, 2003- 

“Excuse me? Ma’am? Excuse me?”

The voice behind you is so timid you don’t hear it right away, especially not when your phone is pressed to your ear with your shoulder as you sort through the mail, your coworker droning on and on…

“Ma’am?” 

It’s a little more forceful this time, a little closer too, and that’s when it finally gets your attention. Turning around on your heel, you find a young girl standing behind you, one hand hooked in the strap of her backpack that hangs off of one thin shoulder, the other worrying about the butterfly pendant of the necklace she’s wearing. 

You recognize her immediately as one of your neighbors, the girl from across the street whose name you didn’t know yet, because you only moved in about two months ago. You’d met the man who you assumed was her father – Joe? Or was it Joel?, you couldn’t remember – the first day you’d moved in, but there had been so much going on that you were too flustered to be engaged.

It’s a Friday, but apparently that doesn’t keep you safe from work calls after you leave the office, because you’re getting an earful of a whole lot of hot air, so much so that you’re probably unintentionally frowning at the girl in front of you while you try to follow the conversation.

“....I think you’re right, but they’re not going to budge unless we sweeten the deal somehow-”

“Can I call you back?” you blurt, ultimately thankful for the interruption. You don’t even wait for his response before you click off your blackberry, sighing, looking up. “Hi, yeah, sorry. Can I help you?”

“Uhm, I’m Sarah…..Miller….I live across the street?” her voice goes up slightly at the end of the sentence, like she’s unsure, even as she points to the home behind her, a two-story place that’s considerably bigger than your own, but maybe a little older. “I uhm…I locked myself out and I was wondering if I could use your phone…to call my dad at work? Please?” 

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “That’s fine. Just uh..follow me I guess.”

Tucking the stack of mail in your hand under your arm, you wave her after you, your kitten heels clicking on the hard pavement of your driveway. 

“Be careful here,” you warn her as you step over the middle step to your front porch that has rotted, and gives easily under any amount of weight. You’d learned about it the hard way, last week, and still had the bruise on your leg to show for it. 

Your front door is open, and Sarah pauses to take off her shoes when you do, a pair of beat-up white Converse that have been doodled on in Sharpie.

“Here, phone’s right there,” you lead her into the kitchen and point to the landline. “Can I get you anything to drink?” 

“Uhm, could I just get some water…please?” She stands rigidly in your kitchen, rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Of course,” you reach into the cabinet. Once the glass is filled and placed in front of her, you retreat to your front living area to give her some privacy while she makes the call, sitting on the couch and scrolling through unanswered emails on your blackberry. Sarah mumbles indiscreetly, until you hear her call out again. 

“Uhm…ma’am…I’m sorry, Miss…uh-what’s your last name?”

“Oh,” you sit up, giving her your first instead. 

“Okay….Uh, my dad wants to talk to you…could you-”

“Sure,” you stand, stepping back into the kitchen, and accepting the receiver from the girl. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, this is Joel Miller,” you’re greeted with a low, gruff drawl. “You’re the new neighbor, I believe introduced myself a while back”

“Joel,” you repeat. It’s Joel. Joel, Joel, Joel, you force yourself to remember. Joel and Sarah Miller. “Yes, we met very briefly.”

“And it sounds like you met Sarah.”

“Yeah.”

On the other end of the line, you hear him hesitate, let out a long sigh. “Look, I hate to put you out, but she lost her key to the house, and she tells me the Adlers aren’t home. Do you think she could stay at your place until I’m able to get off work in a couple hours? I know it’s a big ask, but-”

“Of course she can,” you cut him off, peering over your shoulder at Sarah, who’s staring up at you expectantly with wide, terrified eyes. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.”

“She’s probably got homework so I’ll make sure she stays quiet and out of your way. I’m so sorry, she should know better than this. It’s the second time this month this has happened, I keep tellin’ her-”

“Like I said, it’s not a big deal,” you cut him off, unintentionally, before wondering if it was rude you didn’t let him finish. It’s the native New Yorker in you, always in a rush and uninterested in drawn-out excuses. It’s an unfortunate instinct you’ve been trying to train yourself out of, particularly now that you’re living in the southwest. You soften your tone. “She can stay as long as she needs to, seriously. I don’t have anything planned.”

“Okay,” the voice on the other end sounds relieved. “Thank you. Thank you so much. I should be home by nine, I’ll call if anything changes. Thanks so much.”

“Of course, we’ll be fine. See you soon.” You hang up. 

Sarah is still behind you when you turn around, clutching the glass of water she’s got in both hands like a vice. “You can stay here until your dad gets home,” you tell her. 

“Did….did he sound mad?”

“Maybe a little stressed,” you’re honest. “But….not mad. I also don’t know him, so…”

“I bet he’ll be mad. This is the second time I’ve locked myself out this month because I forgot my key, and I already got lectured once that last time because he had to leave work early.”

“You made a mistake, people forget things…” you shrug. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

Her shoulders relax slightly, and she looks around like it’s the first time she’s actually registered where she’s at. “You have a nice house. It’s cozy.” 

“Thanks,” you put your hands on your hips and look around too. “I’m still settling in, so not everything’s unpacked, but I could give you a tour if you’d like?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Ma’am. That tickles you. The address is still not something you’re used to hearing, even though you’ve only been in Austin a few years. “You can just call me by my first name, you know? Ma’am makes me feel old.”

“Really?” she grins, following you down the hall. “I can’t wait to be old.”

“You’ll feel differently someday,” you answer. “But…I guess it’s not so bad.”

Compared to the house you grew up in, your new house is nothing special, but it’s yours, and you couldn’t be prouder that you’d bought it all on your own. It’s a three-bedroom ranch, and you’d converted one of the rooms into an office for yourself. There’s a kitchen, living room, and den. But your favorite part is your large, screened in back porch that overlooks your yard. Now that it’s getting closer to summer, you sit outside in the mornings with a cup of tea and read the newspaper, listen to the birds. 

“Can I do my homework at your kitchen table?” Sarah asks once you’re finished showing her around.

“Make yourself comfortable wherever,” you answer. “I could probably stand to get a little work done myself.”

Sarah sits at your dining room table, spreads out her books, and works quietly while you answer some emails and look over some contracts. You’ve got a big meeting Monday with a potential client, and a giant stack of term sheets to go through, but if you could manage to get some of it done tonight it might actually help you down the line. As much as possible, you try to avoid doing too much work outside of your office’s standard hours, but sometimes, it’s inevitable.

The subject Sarah has homework in is algebra, which renders you useless. Even when you have to do any accounting at work, you’re used to having a calculator nearby. It’d been awhile since you spent time with anyone as young as she was – in sixth grade, she told you – and it was starting to serve as a confirmation of your own dysfunctional childhood, because her carefree, sweet nature was so drastically different from anything you remembered feeling. 

After about an hour, Sarah slowly starts to close her notebooks, zipping her pencils back up in plastic pouches. You look up from making revisions on a contract, the smell of blue ink heavy in the air around you. “I’m done,” she announces. “Could I sit on your couch and read?”

“Of course,” you answer. “Give me five and I’ll join you.”

It doesn’t take long for you to find a good stopping point, and you pack up your messenger bag, and join Sarah in the living room. “So…I’m starting to get hungry,” you tell her. “Are you?”

Sarah nods sheepishly.

“I could order us something,” you said. “What do you like?”

You aren’t much of a chef, though you can generally figure your way out around any recipe. However, cooking for one is notoriously tedious. If you had multiple mouths to feed, maybe you’d be tempted to hone your skills in the kitchen a little more. Most nights you usually treated yourself to a depressing, hastily thrown together salad, scrambled eggs, or a PB&J. Tonight, you had actually been planning to take yourself out to dinner – there’s a cute little French bistro down the street and you were hoping to treat yourself to a cocktail and a nice meal while you read.

Sarah closes her book, contemplating. “Could we….get a pizza?”

You think about it. “Sure, yeah. Pepperoni…cheese?”

“Can we get….one of both?” she tests. 

“Yeah, we can do both,” You smile. “I bet your dad will be hungry, too, he can have some if he wants.”

“Maybe…he likes pineapple on his,” Sarah wrinkles her nose.

“He has good taste. I do too.”

“Gross.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep them separate,” you call over your shoulder as you retreat to the kitchen. 

Once the pizza is ordered, you return to your living room and curl up on the opposite side of the couch from Sarah, who is engrossed back in her book. “They told me about 30 minutes. What are you reading?”

“To Kill A Mockingbird,” she says, showing you the cover. 

“That was one of my favorites growing up.”

“I have to read it for school…but it’s pretty good so far.”

Your phone pings with another email, and you glance at it quickly. 

“Is that work?” she asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. It still finds you, even when you leave.”

“What do you do?” 

“I’m a lawyer.”

“No way!” Sarah perks up. “Like on the tv shows? That’s so cool.” 

You snort, shaking your head. “No, not exactly. I’m a corporate lawyer so it’s not as fun, actually, it’s just a lot of paperwork and meetings…”

“So…you don’t like it, then?”

“It’s….” you think about it. “....Fine.” Did you like your job? It wasn’t really something you thought about in that way, you’d always seen it as a means to an end. “I went to law school because my dad wanted me to…he wanted me to work for him someday. And…that didn’t pan out so…yeah. But you know…it pays well, and….”

“You get to wear cool outfits,” she gestures to you.

“Yeah, I guess I do. Although the heels do get a little uncomfortable.”

Sarah’s eyes shift behind you for a second to the hallway leading to your bedroom, then widen excitedly. “You have a cat?” 

You turn around to see what she’s looking at, the white and gray ball of fluff that you’d found underneath a dumpster one late night in college. 

“Yeah, that’s Martini.”

“Martini,” she giggles, and the cat approaches her cautiously. He’s notoriously shy and quiet, and not even particularly cuddly, but he likes to sleep at the foot of your bed and will sit next to you on the couch if you stay still for long enough.

The cat sniffs Sarah’s outstretched hand, then presses his face into Sarah’s palm so she can scratch him under his chin, his favorite spot. “He’s not usually a fan of strangers, he must like you.”

“I love animals,” she says. “My dad won’t let me get a pet because he says he’ll end up taking care of it.”

You chuckle. “Cats are pretty easy…at least, he is.”

Martini allows himself about twenty seconds worth of affection before he darts out of the room and heads to his food bowl. 

“I’m gonna go change out of my work clothes, I’ll be right back,” you push yourself off the couch and walk down the hallway. Any other night and you probably would’ve been in pajamas awhile ago but that’s probably not acceptable, so you settle for jeans and a sweater, which is much more comfortable than the dress and tights you had been in before. 

The pizza arrives and after you tip the driver, set it on your kitchen island and pull some plates out of your cupboard. You and Sarah are both long settled with full plates when you speak again. 

“Wow….I forgot how good pizza is…” you say, staring at the half eaten piece in your hand. 

“You don’t eat pizza?”

“Usually only when I’m drunk,” you say, then immediately realize you’re talking to an eleven year old. “Oops, I…probably shouldn’t be telling you that.”

She giggles. “It’s okay.”

“So, it’s just you and your dad across the street?” you ask. “Does your mom live with you?” 

The second the question registers, you immediately regret asking. Sarah shrinks before you, her face dropping, shaking her head. “No I…I don’t really have a mom.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, softly. You just assumed she existed although you’d never seen her, and you feel guilty, racking your brain for something that might help make her feel better. “I understand, my mom wasn’t really around growing up.”

“She wasn’t?” Sarah asked, looking up. 

You shake your head.  “My parents got divorced when I was young, my dad took us, and she moved across the country, so….I didn’t see much of her.”

“My mom… she left when I was a baby.”

“I’m sorry.” You say again, staring at the girl in front of you. 

For a moment, looking at her, you see yourself, and you wonder how a parent can wake up one day and choose to ignore someone that’s one half of themselves. Someone they made. If they really understood what that might do to a person’s psyche, growing up thinking that they weren’t wanted. You had always told yourself that your mother, your parents must have not understood, because if they did, and they still chose to do it…

“Are you married?” Sarah asks, and you’re snapped out of your train of thought.

Taking a bite of pizza, you shake your head no.

“So you live here alone?” 

You nod, chewing.

“Do you like it?”

You nod, swallow. “It’s better than having a roommate, or living in the city.” 

Standing up, you walk towards the fridge for a can of sparkling water. It hisses while you open it, and you lean over the counter while Sarah continues to drill you. “Do you ever get….scared? Like at night?” 

“No….not really. I have locks. And this is a safe neighborhood. And uh, I may or may not have a nightlight still.”

Sarah giggles. “Me too.”

There’s a sturdy knock on your screen door, which you’d left open to let in the cool spring breeze, and you notice Sarah’s eyes widen. “I bet that’s my dad.”

As if he heard her, and maybe he did, the guest calls out. “It’s Joel!” It’s the same voice from over the phone, but much clearer. 

“Come in,” you answer.

The screen door creaks open, the sound of boots shuffling inside. “Sarah?” It’s the same voice from the phone. Joel steps into the warm light of the kitchen.

When you first met it had been from a distance, you were carrying boxes and he was loading something into the back of his truck. It’s clear you hadn’t gotten a good enough look at him, wouldn’t have forgotten his name, because fuck, he’s kind of gorgeous…tan skin, dark wavy hair, and a sharp jawline covered in stubble. In the archway to your kitchen he looks huge, taller than you remembered.

“Hi Dad,” Sarah says. “Miss-“

You cut her off simply by saying your first name. “Nice to meet you…again.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, and thank you so much for keeping an eye on her. We’ll get out of your ha-”

“We got you pizza,” Sarah pipes up, looking at him. You can tell that she’s trying to stall. Or at least, trying to offer him something that might soften the inevitable lecture she’s going to get. It’s a smart play, and definitely not something you would’ve been above trying at her age.

Joel looks at the three pizza boxes spread across your countertop. “You didn’t have to feed her, really, like I said, she should’ve known better,” he turns to look at her pointedly.

“I had to eat anyway. Please, help yourself. There’s a ton of leftovers,” You really did not want cold pizza in your fridge, because it’d be too tempting to eat as a late night snack or even breakfast on your way out the door in the mornings.

Reluctantly, he looks at you before taking a plate. “Thank you,” he turns to his daughter while he opens one of the boxes. “Did you get your homework done?” 

Sarah nods. “And I got ahead on my reading for English.”

“That’s good.” 

Joel turns back to you, settles in a chair with the plate of food in front of him at the island. You do the same. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to come over and properly introduce myself. Sarah too.”

You shrug. “I’m the new neighbor, that’s probably my responsibility anyways. It’s been kind of hectic settling in.”

“Where’d you move from?”

“Well, I’ve been in Austin for the past few years, but originally I’m from Manhattan.”

Joel nods. “Why Texas?” 

It’s far away from my insane family, you think, and then settle on something else. “Work.”

Sarah is staring at her plate and tearing a piece of crust into tiny pieces. Joel eyes the slice of pizza he’s just taken a bite of.

“Pineapple?” he looks over at Sarah. “Are you tryin’ to bribe me so you don’t get in trouble?”

“It’s my favorite, too,” you offer, then wink at Sarah when Joel isn’t looking. She tilts her head down, her hair hiding the grin on her face from her father.

A buzzing sound cuts through the room before Joel can answer, and he digs in his pocket to fish out his cell phone. “Hold on, I gotta take this.”

When he steps out of the room, you begin to clear the empty boxes and plates off your kitchen island and bring them over to the sink. Sarah brings her plate over as well, stands next to you at the sink while you rinse them off and load them in the dishwasher. 

“Thank you for dinner,” she says. 

“Of course,” you answer.

“I just really hope he’s not disappointed with me.”

Placing your hand between her shoulder blades, you give her an encouraging pat. “I don’t think he is….” you hear Joel on the phone in the other room, his voice rising in volume. “....and honestly….it sounds like he might have bigger fish to fry…”

“Tommy…are you fucking kidding me? Again? How many times is this gonna happen? Okay…fine. fine. I’ll be there soon, but you can’t keep doing this shit.”

Sarah grimaces, and you both turn back to the sink sheepishly when you hear Joel’s footsteps returning. She bumps you with her elbow while you clear your throat. 

You’re sure there’s still a residual smile on your face when you turn around to face Joel, who has his hands on his hips. “Alright, Sarah, we gotta get going.”

“Is everything okay with Uncle Tommy?” 

“No, I’ve gotta pick him up at the police station.” 

“Did he drink too much again?”

“Sarah!” Joel exclaims. “Please, it’s gettin’ late and you’ve got a soccer game tomorrow, you need to get to bed.”

You’re biting your lower lip so hard to keep from laughing you almost taste blood. It’s not funny, definitely not funny to Joel, who you can tell is having a rough night, but it’s objectively funny as an outsider, watching all their familial drama being put on blast by his daughter who doesn’t quite have a filter yet, and is first and foremost trying to protect herself from getting into trouble.

“She’s a lawyer, I bet she could help Tommy,” Sarah looks over at you. “Couldn’t you?”

Joel frowns. “That’s not how that works-”

“What’d they bring him in for?” you ask. 

Joel runs a hand through his hair. “Public intoxication. Are you really a lawyer?”

“Well…I’m a corporate lawyer so that wouldn’t really be my specialty. But uh…I’ve definitely been able to talk my friends out of that kind of thing before.”

“But this is not the first time,” Joel says. “It’s probably useless.” 

“Didn’t you say you can’t afford to keep-”

“Sarah, enough.” Joel’s voice is as stern as you’ve heard it, and he digs into his pocket, producing a keychain. “Go home and get ready for bed. I’ll be home in a minute.”

Sarah sighs, defeated. “Okay.” 

Joel stands dead still while she shuffles to the door, cramming her feet in her shoes with her backpack slung over her shoulder. 

By this point in the evening, you’d usually be curled up on your couch by the fireplace with your latest knitting project, moderately stoned, watching bad reality television and sipping sleepytime herbal tea. But your night has already gone drastically different from your expectation. Why stop now? “If you wanted…I could try to help.”

Joel shakes his head, looks at the floor. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t ask,” you shrug. “I offered.”

He looks up, a soft smile breaks across his face, revealing a row of straight, sparkling teeth, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It’s the first sincere smile you’ve ever seen from him, and your knees feel a little weak at the sight of it. You think you might offer him anything just to see it again. “It’d be a huge favor. But….I’d appreciate it.”

“Alright well…” you look around, push yourself off the countertop. “I probably should change before we go. I don’t think I’ll be taken seriously in this.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I need to make sure Sarah gets to bed alright, how ‘bout you meet me on my porch in ten?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks again,” he raps his knuckles on the counter twice before retreating, and you stay in place until you hear the screen door close behind him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I feel like you’re meeting us all at a very chaotic time….I promise, things aren’t usually like this.” 

Joel’s not sure why he feels the need to clarify this to you on the drive to the police station. In fact, he might be saying it more to convince himself, because he thinks ever since Sarah’s mom ran off, things have never not been chaotic. 

In some ways, he’s glad it happened. It was a doomed relationship from the start, they’d both been far too young to understand the consequences of their actions, so it was probably for the better that she was no longer around. But he was caught in a constant state of feeling like he could never quite get a handle on things. 

Joel glances over at you in the passenger's seat of his truck. He decides that you look a little out of place there, dressed in a black pantsuit, a messenger bag tucked between your heel-clad feet. He can’t remember the last time there was an adult woman in his car. Three months, maybe? It had been a date, a third date, and subsequently, a last date. But right now the context is different.

Your head is tilted towards the open window, the breeze casting stray pieces of your hair around as the radio cuts in and out of an old Eagles song and then to static, and then back into music again. He needs to get his damned stereo fixed but unfortunately it hasn’t exactly been high on his priority list. His gaze travels down the slope of your neck, where your skin dips into the collar of your silky blue blouse, then back to your profile, your lips moving as you mouth the words to the song, but don’t sing. 

I get this feelin' I may know you

As a lover and a friend

You stop when his words register, turning to look at him, and he averts his eyes back to the road. “No offense or anything….” you say. “But compared to the family I grew up in….this is all pretty tame.”

Joel ponders that for a moment, notices the way your eyes are narrowed, the corners of your lips quirking. “What, you got a problematic little brother, too? A precocious eleven-year-old?”

“No kids,” you answer. He didn’t think so. “But I do have a problematic older brother. And the stress he’s caused has definitely taken years off my life.”

At least you seem like you understand. 

He’s shocked you’re in this car with him, that after entertaining his daughter all night, you’d offered to help him out with this Tommy mess. Though, he assumes you’re doing it out of guilt because Sarah made it sound like he was broke.

“You know for the record, I actually have the money to bail him out.”

“I figured.”

“Then why’d you come?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. My life has been pretty boring lately. I can’t remember the last time I did something exciting on a Friday night.” 

“This is exciting to you?”

“It’s objectively exciting,” you sound assured. “Maybe more exciting than being the person who got arrested for public intoxication.” 

Despite the stress of the evening, he can’t help but laugh. 

“And whether you’re broke or not, bailing someone out of jail is no joke. If you can at least try to talk your way out of it, you might as well.”

Joel can’t argue with your logic.

“What is it you do again?” you ask, eyeing the protective glasses he has in the cup holder of his front seat. There are nails stuck between the rubber grooves of the mat beneath the seats, a pair of thick gloves resting on the dashboard.

“I’m a carpenter.”

“Makes sense,” you answer. “So you’re handy?”

“You could say that,” Joel lifts the can of flat, warm seltzer from his lunch break to his mouth, just to take a sip. 

“That’s hot,” you say, and he nearly chokes when he hears it.  Are you….flirting? Though, you can’t be, because when he looks over at you, you’re staring at the road, face neutral. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t make the rules of what’s hot and what isn’t….it’s just a fact. Everyone knows that.” 

“Do they?” 

“Uh-huh,” you respond. “I mean, I wish I was handy. I’m pretty much a lost cause in that department.” 

“If it paid the bills, you’d figure it out.” 

“If it paid the bills, I can tell you, I would not be living in our neighborhood.”

Joel puts his blinker on, preparing to pull into the police station. “You probably still could, it’s not that nice of a neighborhood.” 

“Shut up,” you snort, rolling your eyes. “But in all seriousness, it is peaceful. It’s quiet.”

“See, but you still didn’t say nice.”

“It is nice. I like it.” 

When he parks the car, you straighten up, unbuckling the seatbelt and exiting without a word. On the opposite side of the truck, he observes how you rebutton the front of your blazer, smooth down its lapels and shift your shoulders back before turning to him. 

“You ready?” you ask. 

He nods. 

“After you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Joel spots you again, Tommy is walking a few paces behind you. You turn your head over one shoulder, smirking at whatever he’s saying. From where Joel is sitting in the lobby, he can just make out the soft curve of your hips, the tops of your thighs over the barrier that separates him from all the desks of the officers and staff at the station. You’ve got an easy, relaxed gait and you give Joel a wink when he catches you staring.

He can tell it’s just meant to be celebratory thing, since both you and Tommy seem to be in good spirits, but he likes the sight of it anyways, the idea that you’re both in on some secret that no one else is. 

Joel stands to greet you and his brother to get the download, but as he approaches, your group is intercepted by one of the cops that had been hanging around reception. 

“Miller,” he says lowly to Tommy. “This better be the last time I see you in here.” 

When Tommy doesn’t answer right away, you pipe up. 

“I assure you my client will be on his best behavior.”

The cop turns to you for a minute, turns back to Tommy, contemplating. “You’re lucky you have a good lawyer…” he says. “Although I’m still not convinced you’re really paying someone to get you out of a public intoxication charge.” 

“I-” Tommy opens his mouth but you cut him off.

“Alleged…intoxication,” you interject, stone-faced.

“He can hardly walk straight.”

You purse your lips. “But….you never did a sobriety test, so, would it hold up in court?” you grimace. “If I had to guess….probably not.”

The cop narrows his eyes at you. “Don’t push it, princess.” 

Despite the infantilizing nickname, You respond with a polite smile. “Thanks again, officer. Have a nice evening.”

“Mhm,” he murmurs before backing away. 

You turn to Joel, your smile fading, and Tommy cuts in. “We should get the fuck out of here before he changes his mind.”

“That’s it? You’re free?” Joel asks.

Tommy nods. 

“Tommy’s right, we should definitely leave.”

It’s a mad scramble, the three of you settling back into Joel’s truck, and if he was feeling a little less angsty about the way the whole evening had gone, he might’ve even peeled out of the parking lot for dramatic effect. But at this point, his patience is wearing thin.

He’s back on the main drag, en route to Tommy’s place, with you on the passenger’s side, and his brother in the back, leaning forward with his elbows resting on your seats when his brother speaks up.

“Holy….shit!” Tommy turns to you. “That was fucking awesome, are you kidding me? Joel, where the fuck did you find her?”

He’s still drunk, words slurring together, and he shakes both of your shoulders ferociously. You actually giggle — the sound of it is fucking adorable and Joel wishes that these are not the circumstances for hearing such a noise. He rather it be because of something he said, but he knows Tommy has always been more charming, even when drunk 

“She’s my neighbor, Tommy.”

“No way! How come I’ve never seen you around before?” Tommy asks, and Joel can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. 

“I’m kind of new to the area,” you answer. 

“Dammit, oh my god, Joel, I wish you coulda seen it.”

Joel looks over at you, and is thankful that he catches your eye. “What’d you say?” 

“Never underestimate your negotiating power when the cop you’re talking to’s shift ended over an hour ago, and he doesn’t want to fill out any more paperwork.” You cross your arms, look over your shoulder at Tommy, who is leaning back against the seat with his head in his hands, laughing, before looking back at Joel. “I told you, I have experience.”

“Oh my god,” Tommy pokes his head back between you. “How’d he even get you to come down here? What’d he have to do, offer to paint your house or somethin’?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Sarah got locked out again,” Joel explained. “And I was over at her place when you called. She’s a corporate lawyer.”

“Ah, that makes sense. You know, Joel’s always liked the smart ones,” Tommy starts, and Joel has to contain the urge to slam on the brakes and send his brother face first into the back of his headrest. Unfortunately, he can’t do that with you in the car. “Too bad he’s dumb as a box of rocks.”

“Okay, watch yourself!” Joel snaps, and he’s only halfway kidding. “You got off easy, but you’re on fuckin’ thin ice, and I’m still pissed that I’m spending my night bailing you out again.”

Tommy doesn’t even catch on to Joel’s irritation – or maybe he does, and has just decided that he’s going to be the Annoying Younger Sibling and see how far he can push it. “Don’t let him fool you, okay?” Tommy continues, and you’ve angled yourself towards him, amused. “It’s not always him lookin’ after me. Before he had Sarah, he was crazy.”

“Alright, alright that’s enough, Tommy.” Joel shoots daggers towards his brother in the rearview mirror, and he watches Tommy’s smile falter, finally deciding to back down. 

“Is that true, Joel, were you really crazy?” you ask after Tommy grows quiet, tilting your head. “I can’t see it.”

“Well we’ve all have our moments, right?” he says sheepishly. 

“We do,” you agree, and then it’s finally silent.

Joel is thankful to see Tommy’s driveway straight in front of him, and his car lurches up the curb. “Alright, alright, this is your last stop,” he says to his brother. “You’ll get in okay?” 

Tommy takes a deep breath, settling himself after all his bravado and sinking back against his seat. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at Sarah’s game.” He slinks out of the truck and slams the door behind him. 

Normally, Joel would’ve chewed him out after something like this, but he knows being hungover tomorrow at a middle school soccer game, sandwiched between screaming parents and the ear-splitting whistles of the referees will be punishment enough.

“I’ll see you then.” He watches his brother stumble up the steps to his home, unlock the door, and give a wave before disappearing inside. 

Joel’s left alone with you. “Should we get you home, now?”

“Yeah, we should.”

Joel puts the car in reverse, puts one of his arms over the back of the bench seat to look for cars behind him, and catches you staring. You don’t even seem embarrassed that he notices, either, you just shift your gaze away to outside the window.

He feels a little self-conscious about the first impression he’s probably made, which is a feeling he’s not used to…caring about what people think. 

“Sorry about him, he’s….a good guy but a real piece of work.”

You giggle. “Like I said, I have a brother, too.”

It’s been awhile since he’s interacted with anyone outside of Sarah, Tommy, and his coworkers, and his day was exhausting. He wants to ask more questions, see if he can hold some kind of conversation, but words fail him, so you spend the short drive on the way back home mostly in silence. You’re so quiet that by the time he pulls into your driveway, he thinks you might be asleep. If you were, he doesn’t even get the chance to wake you, because you immediately sit up straight once the truck has come to a halt.

“Thanks for everything tonight,” he says. 

“You’re welcome, it was no problem,” you get out of the car, sling your bag over your shoulders, and close the door. “Have a good night.” 

Joel’s listening to the retreating click of your heels up the driveway when he rolls down his window all the way to speak again. It’s clear you’re tired, your shoulders are slouched, and he feels incredibly guilty. You worked all day and then had to put up with his entire crazy family. 

“Hey,” he says. “How much do I owe you for the pizza?”

You turn around, still stepping backwards. “Nothing.”

“Look, you’ve done too much for me tonight to say that,” he says. “I’m startin’ to feel bad.”

You stop in your tracks then, the smirk on your face fading a little bit as you slowly step forward to where he leans out the truck window. It’s only a few feet, but you’re much closer now than you’ve been to him all night, and there must be jasmine in your perfume. It smells expensive, he thinks, as your hands lift to rest on the door next to his elbow. “You shouldn’t feel bad,” you say softly, voice low. 

God, you’re fucking beautiful, he realizes, basked in the glow of the moon, a smile creeping along the edges of your lips. Of course, he knew you were attractive, had definitely registered it at some point before –  maybe when he’d walked in on you and Sarah giggling in the kitchen. He was just too busy being worried to even notice until now. 

This isn’t a date, but you’re so close he could kiss you, kind of wants to just to see what would happen, but he doesn’t. You’re his new neighbor, and if he’s reading this wrong, he doesn’t want to be reminded of the mistake everyday, first thing in the morning when you’re picking up your newspaper at the end of your driveway and he’s leaving for work. 

“But uh…if it would make you feel better…one of the steps on my front porch is rotted. Maybe you could come over sometime and fix it? That a fair trade?” 

Joel nods, and you stick out your hand. “It’s a deal,” he says, ignoring the jolt of energy he feels when your palms press together, like you’re a kid wearing a hand buzzer, trying to shock him.

“Great,” you step away. He’s about to put the car in reverse when you speak again. 

“Oh, and Joel?” you ask, he looks back at you. Before you speak again, your eyes shift to the ground, like you’re mustering up the courage to ask him something, and when they return to his again, your expression is somber. “Go easy on Sarah….she’s a good kid.”

Joel nods, understanding.

“I know.”

-

volume ii

taglist: @yaskna @venomous-ko @lomljigg

[sunboki]

002. THE MOVING IN DIARIES — ANTHOLOGY

PAIRING. Lee Minho x gn. reader | WORD COUNT. 2.3k & 12 minute read | SERIES PLAYLIST. | WARNINGS. cursing, anxiety, metaphor referring to getting high, talk of sex & implied smut | TROPE. friends to lovers, angst, fluff, suggestive, comfort, basically moving in together au!

( ✉️ ) — although this fic turned out shorter than expected, i have to remind myself this is a “mini”series 😭😭 please leave a reblog or comment if you enjoyed it! love you guys!!

Playful banter while driving to your new home is a must, but upon opening the door to your first home together, the big moment truly sinks in — especially when he wakes up beside you the next morning. Wow.

Heaving the massive brown boxes through the door with your boyfriend right on your heels, you practically slam the box labeled “Kitchen” in neon tape down, wiping the sweat off your brow before looking up.

It’s one thing to sign the papers to a new home, but another when you actually realize the reality of it all.

Minho seems to be in the same state of awe as well.

New. Everything is new. Your new home, a new chapter in either of your lives.

Together.

. ..

People genuinely underestimate the entire process of buying a house.

In other words, the entire daydreaming phase disappears instantly once finances, planning, and packing are introduced.

And it’s a fucking nightmare.

From initially digesting the prices to agreeing on a house in general, you’re certain gray hairs are mere days from appearing atop your head. Although, your boyfriend was here too, every step of the way.

My god were you grateful for that.

He handled the stress like a pro, picking out certain flaws in layouts you’d been completely oblivious to and always leveling you out when you got overwhelmed with things. Plus, you got to witness him looking illegally attractive in his glasses more than ever over the four-month long house-buying hell.

.

.

.

“And what about option two?” You ask, referring to your boyfriend currently calling about some new places he’d scoped out.

You swear this same conversation has popped up almost every day over the past month and a half. At this point it’s instinct going through the bottomless list, crossing off place after place, neverending.

Like you said, house-buying hell.

“Pretty spacious except the kitchen takes up half of the house,” Minho grunts, and you envision his glasses-clad self hunched at his desk with Dori on his lap, likely dozing off.

Before you can reject though, he huffs a chuckle, one filled with nothing but mischief.

“Hey, kitchen sex would be great.”

Thank god you weren’t drinking something or it definitely would’ve come out of your nose.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Awe, you love me sweetheart. And you know it's true.”

As much as you’d like to deny it, he’s no fool. Because kitchen sex with Minho is heavenly, and you’d be a liar to say otherwise. Unfortunately, your lack of reply evidently stroked his ego to no end, cocky giggle rumbling through the call.

Asshole.

You love him.

Reminding him you’d send a text while on your way home, you, as per usual, clock in for your shift after his whining and many repeated goodbyes. Yet you can’t seem to let go of the thought, plaguing your mind like an infectious virus.

Doubts.

Doubts about things working out, about your relationship working out, about your love working out. Especially once you move in, if you move in, no, of course you’ll move in, right? Where it came from you’re not sure, only aware of the tightness of your chest when you step outside for a breath of fresh air.

Suffocating. You feel suffocated.

Reaching into your pocket, moments of hesitation keep your thumb lingering longer over his number, regrettably stuffing the forsaken device in your pocket.

Not now, maybe later. It’s just a thought. Nothing serious.

Except you were a hypocrite, and it was serious, because by the time you stepped from the building you practically cried in the middle of the road, barely able to contain the frothing wail that left a nasty aftertaste burning your tongue.

Fuck it. You’re calling him.

Not until he attempts at getting out a full sentence without you dissolving into sobs does an audible phrase leave your mouth, pitifully curled up atop your bed after charting the messiest walk home in history.

“But– But what if the something happens and the agent messes up and–”

“Baby.”

The voice, the subtly stern tone immediately stops your fervent ranting. Your chest feels seconds from exploding, stifling every pained sound clambering to escape.

“This is our journey, our struggles. Don’t put so much stress on your shoulders when I’m here to help you carry it, okay? I love you, and I need you to know you’re not handling this by yourself.”

He’s speaking so quietly, so kindly, and you can only hum to keep from breaking into tears again while leant against the wall, phone pressed against your ear.

He’s said those three words more than ever in these past few weeks—knowing that he needs to hear it, that you both need to hear it. “I love you”.

It never gets old.

Also, once you're officially homeowners, you won’t have to constantly call each other anymore. It brings a watery smile to the corner of your lips.

“Hey Min?”

“Yes?” He hummed, mirroring the same sound made when he ate a good bite of food. It’s the cutest thing in the world.

“Yes?”

“Can we.. stay like this? I just want to know you’re there.”

A breathless laugh utters through the line.

“I’m right here all night sweetness.”

And like he promised, he stayed, the call ending almost seven hours later. Having fallen asleep a mere two hours in, Minho spoke all the while, mumbling to both himself and you. Plans for the future, his current grocery list, and, while deep in thought, how he so badly wanted to marry you.

He wouldn’t mention the last one when you woke up.

Eventually, he too began drifting off, and it wasn’t without telling you good night that he let himself fully travel to dreamland, whispering: “Good night baby, ‘sleep well.” Before clicking the red icon, signaling the end of the call.

Call Ended: 6:43:17.

. ..

The clock hung on his wall reads 2AM and his hand ferociously maneuvers the mouse, eyes practically bloodshot. You’re behind him on his bed, immersed just as intensely on the blinding screen.

Yesterday you’d received the best kind of news, but the trial was far from over, and you couldn’t quite celebrate till the keys came in—the exact thing you were religiously looking into right now.

He’s relentlessly scrolling through emails, running a hand through dark brown hair with prominent dark circles shadowing beaneath his lower lashes.

Having met with your agent that afternoon, you were nearly finished with the entire closing process when ding! A notification buzzes.

Scrambling, you jump off his mattress, both blinking dumbly, mouths agape.

Hello, I am pleased to inform the Minho family (you laughed at the name) your keys will be available at 8am tomorrow morning. Thank you for your cooperation, I was delighted to be the agent you chose for your first home purchase!

Oh my god.

Slowly turning to face one another, huge smiles grow at your cheeks while the boy’s apartment erupts in loud, victorious screams. He pulls you into a big hug and you do the same, mimicking his bouncing excitement.

He can’t even describe how happy he is.

This is really happening.

Your boyfriend hides himself in your chest and you gently pat his head, allowing the thundering of his heartbeat to calm.

Surreal.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t seem to stop kissing you. Perhaps it was the aftermath’s effect, too intoxicated by happiness to think sensibly. Not that he didn’t constantly kiss you normally, but this time it was different.

Plus, how could he stop when after the third kiss your lips were all puffy and glossy, begging to be kissed.

Holding your wrists, he tips his head to an angle, nipping the swollen skin of your bottom lip and ushering a deep sigh from you.

So when he does let go, you effortlessly hold his face, falling back onto the bed without a second thought other than having Minho as close to you as possible.

To say the least, fucking at almost 3AM was criminally underrated.

Towel hanging around his neck after his shower (and the euphoric afterglow), he took on the job of coordinating how each item was organized, deciding to worry about packing up your flat after coming to the conclusion trying to sleep at this point was futile.

“We’re such good adults.” You satisfy, popping the cap off the Sharpie and being sure to label the box in front of you as “Cat toys'' (Minho’s instructions).

”Please don’t ever say that again.” He leans down, stealing a peck for the nth time off your pout. You don’t complain.

You groan. “What? We just bought a house all by ourselves y’know.”

He busies himself in the bathroom, fetching additional toiletries while wearing the horrifically ugly slippers Changbin gifted him last year.

“After four months,” He says, tone laced with bemusement.

“Hey! It’s about the journey, not the reward,” You point an accusing finger his way, him responding with a rather unimpressed expression.

“You’re a loser.”

“Your loser.”

He wrinkles his nose, appearing disgusted.

Typical Minho reaction.

To no one’s surprise, you spend the remainder of the night scurrying around the place, too high on anticipation. Although, even after countless nights of no sleep, you don’t feel exhausted. You feel alive, relieved.

And it’s when he rolls over to face you, smiling so faintly you can barely make out the shadow lining his usually furrowed exterior that you realize he’s just as ecstatic as you are.

. ..

“Oh please, Lee Minho, you’re already hot, and we’re gonna be late!” You holler from his complex's parking lot, shutting the trunk filled to the brim with luggage. Of course, your boyfriend takes his sweet time sauntering over, placing the keys in your open palm and sending you a sarcastic grin.

“Never knew we booked an appointment with the house,” He scoffs, and you slip your index into his belt loop, tugging him closer with a shared sneer.

“Well now you know,” You cockily tilt your head, a sudden tension overwhelming the minimal space between you two, testing each other's teetering resolve using a mere stare and your finger still wedged in his belt.

He steps closer, you hold your breath.

So it takes you a moment to realize he said “I’m driving” till the keys were snatched from your grasp, leaving you to scoot your legs away and side-eye him the entire ride. Worst part? By the look of his stupidly-handsome-no-good-please-stop-so-I-can-despise-you smile, he enjoyed every second.

Yet, opposed to the cold-shoulder attitude on the drive there, you’re giggling like idiots upon pulling in the driveway. Your poor neighbors have to be terrified at this rate, worried their new next-door acquaintances are some deranged circus clowns or something.

They’re not half wrong.

After your starstruck admiration opening the door though, you get to work arranging things. Assembling shelves, cleaning floors, washing windows, you name it, the first half of the house was spotless.

First half.

As for now, you sprawl in Minho’s lap, a fan replacing the lack of air conditioning and a mandatorily delivered magazine fanning your sweaty faces. Any other situation you would’ve been miserable, but there’s no other contentment better than this.

Because it’s not much, but it's yours.

And that’s enough.

Despite the blinds pulled tightly closed, peach rays of light strayed through the crevices, painting the room a warm glow. You stirred awake, genuinely shocked with, one, this bedroom not being your own, two, the subtle wondering of how you ended up here from the living room, and three, a presence pressed against your back, hand slipped between your legs to hold the soft skin of your inner thigh.

“Minho. Minho!” You poke, jabbing an accusing finger against his jaw. His brow twitches, slowly blinking up at you. He grumbles, squeezing the supple skin there as if you weren’t staring at him incredulously.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Glaring into his genuinely innocent eyes, he purses his lips with a very kissable pout, appearing completely confused before noticing where his hand lay.

Compromising. Quite compromising.

“It’s warm and soft, why not? Or is it that I’m turning you o—“ Words cut short from you muffling him with a pillow, he squirms, infectious laughter radiating through the silk fabric.

Clad in basketball shorts and a plain white t-shirt that rose up just enough to grant a peek of his soft tummy when he stretched, your boyfriend padded through the hallway, approaching you only to scoop you up into his arms from behind—hand slipping beneath your top.

Before you can interfere though, he mumbles beneath his breath, voice hardly audible after just waking up.

“Don’t move, ‘wanna stay like this.”

Ah.

Morning Minho. You love morning Minho, especially now that you’re living together.

Before now, the only time you’d ever get to wake up beside each other was after, well, that. So to think about tomorrow where you'd get to do this again and again and again felt like a daydream.

Relaxing into his touch, he presses his nose into your neck, eyelids fluttering shut to simply bask in the atmosphere, the quietness occupying the home, your home.

Standing there motionless for a few moments, he takes you in, the softness of your skin dappled in sunlight filtering past the window, the rise and fall of your chest. Beautiful.

“So what’re we supposed to do now?” You aimlessly ask aloud, avoiding eye-contact with the massive amount of boxes stuffed in the corner—too exhausted to continue unpacking the night earlier. Save for another time.

“Fuck?” He mutters, but it comes out more muffled, more gravelly. Ungodly attractive.

“I…” Sentence getting caught up in your throat, you move equally as fast toward the bedroom, his nimble fingers pulling the straps of your top down your shoulders, chasing after you.

“—Hate you.” You finish, simultaneously trapped between him and the door.

Nevertheless, you give in. With Minho, you always give in.

You love him.

He knows.

> SERIES TAGLIST. @phtogravi @liknws @luckieleaf @jhstayy @meloncremesoda @chans1aptop @eternitywaveshello @meanergreener @ladylexis @love-gy-u @hanjingin @idkluvutellme @dark-anxel @yubinism @rachabreathing @seung-scrittore @fylithia @skzsupremacy @alrm02 @ener-energy @koliki @anskiiz @dprkbyn @bellamuerte1987 @ylixbok @hanjisung-enjoyer @youngunknownwitch @hwangflora @starlost-andfound @taeriffic @flwerfield

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[keylovesstuff]

I give you guys this :)

AO3

FFN

Little Events Chapter 4: Proposals

"So when are we going to get married?" Bowser asked her five minutes into silence after everyone left the meeting room.

Water mixed with spit flew an impressive fifteen inches across the table hitting him directly in his face. The Koopa King blew the little water from his nostrils while the rest dripped down his face. It took a good ten seconds for Peach to finally catch her breath and another five to compose herself while repositioning her crown upon her head. 

"Excuse me, but one you never proposed, two I never said yes, and three are there not specific courting customs you have to follow?" Peach asked while listing off each statement one gloved finger at a time.

"Fine." Bowser huffed standing and making his way over to her seat. Peach turned her body to face him once he was in front of her. Taking her hand in his giant one bending down on one knee. "Peaches, from the moment we first met, I knew you were the one that I wanted to spend my entire life beside. You're already such an amazing leader and together we would be the best rulers in the world. With that accept my hand in marriage." He finished giving her his best dreamy eyes.

Peach was certain she was blushing out of embarrassment as she quickly pulled away and straightened up the papers on the table.

"I wasn't being serious and what kind of proposal was that? It wasn't even romantic." She pouted gathering up today's materials and started towards her office. The Koopa King followed behind.

"We both have a different view of what a 'romantic' proposal entails." Bowser grumbled under his breath looking at all the free space along the walls. "I've been saying you should add more portraits or at least some mirrors. How's a guy supposed to admire their own handsomeness or their leader when I'm here?" He commented for the umpteenth time.

Other than a slight chuckle, Peach carried on towards her office. Another thing both Bowser and her Advisor Toadsworth shared similar opinions on. It wasn't so much as she didn't think she was pretty- far from it actually but, that doesn't mean she wants a portrait or her own reflection 'staring' as she went about her day. Lone stone statues and having his entire face sculpted into his castle may work for him but not for her. The thought of having to sit perfectly still for almost eight hours dissuaded her from wanting any portraits done. While the glass stained portrait displayed outside was nice, she did not miss that numb feeling in her butt just for them to get the perfect reference. Peach was thinking that if any pictures were to go on the walls, landscapes of the world's natural beauty would be nice.

Peach supposed that once she starts traveling to other kingdoms she'd find some lovely sights that she'd want to look at again even if she could only visit once. She entered her office to place the papers on the desk to look over at a later time while Bowser waited outside.

"I got some other things to attend to so I'm going to be leaving here in a bit. Is there anything else in that pile I need to sign or something" Bowser asked from outside the room. 

Peach hummed and quickly skimmed through the paperwork she just placed down and hummed softly.

"No you're all good. Thanks for fitting this meeting into your schedule. I know you hate how early they are." She told him, while closing the door "I'll accompany you to the pipe if you'd like" she offered and he just nodded. 

"Least you can do after you rejected my proposal earlier." Bowser finally said after they walked in silence for a few minutes. 

Peach continued but was at a loss of words. Was he really that hurt by her rejection? Was he really that serious with his proposal? Maybe that was the most 'romantic' he could be and her expectations were either too high or unrealistic given that the most she knows about romance comes from books. Bowser was from the darklands and similar to her, didn't have anyone to look to on how being in love looked. She has her doubts that Kamek had little time for a personal life of his own with being at his lord's beck and call, much less giving him advice about it. Toadsworth himself never went into much about his romantic life only going as far as to say at one point he was involved with some ambassador in training but they broke up mutually.

To her memory Toadsworth never actually pursued anyone else in their community either. When Peach was young she did question him every now and then about wanting a partner, only for him to brush it off and sweetly tell her that he'd wish to put all his energy into raising her. Younger Peach enjoyed hearing those words then but now she wished he took time to focus on himself outside of her but, he doesn't seem all that bothered she guessed. The princess had to stifle a chuckle once she realized she hadn't responded to Bowser's comment.  Even after knowing him for all these years, Peach still viewed him as her very much self-absorbed friend that would occasionally offer some good advice when it comes to being in power. While she didn't take all his advice to heart, she couldn't argue with the fact that it worked for him when she visited his Kingdom. That didn't mean she could see herself being by his side for the rest of her life.

They made it to the pipe before she finally found something to say.

"So um, exactly when and how did you know that you loved me to the point that you were thinking about marrying me?" Peach turned red again in embarrassment after structuring the question in the best way. Bowser stared at her silent for what seemed like the longest two minutes. She found an interesting spot on the ground and was about to tell him to forget about it till he finally spoke up.

"Guess I just see you as a worthy leader to be with considering how far this place has come in just half a year into you taking power. Already better than other kingdoms that've been operating for years. That and I can never have too much territory and this place is huge and of course having you as my Queen would grant me access to that. What are you thinking about saying yes?" He finished with a wiggle of his bushy eyebrows.

Peach gave a sigh of relief inwardly. There was no sort of love confession in what he had said which would make what she had to say next a little more easier. 

"Not exactly. I feel like I still have so much to do as a leader on my own. I really do appreciate all you've done to help me get this far but, I think I want to see more of what other places have to offer before I even think about marriage I guess" she finished with a bow.

"Hmm on your own...I see" Bowser regarded her words with claws on his chin. 

The way he repeated her own words sent a sort of strange feeling down her spine but Peach shook it off. Maybe due to nerves of having to admit that out loud and not having a clue on where to start to make it happen. Again the silence lingered on for far longer than she was comfortable with as he stepped onto the pipe.

"No choice but to sit back and see what you do Princess Peach," Bowser finally concluded. "When you feel like you're in that position make sure to consider what I've said. I do trust you'll make the right decision as it's much better to have me as an ally than an enemy" he added, smiling proudly to himself as he saw her gulp.

"Of course Lord Bowser. Please take care and I look forward to our next visit, where you'll hopefully start accompanying me to other kingdoms?" Peach reminded him of his promise to hopefully end this conversation on a positive note.

"Sure. I'll write or come visit you when I can so we can set up some days. I'm pretty sure that old man and that excuse you call a council would insist on being in attendance" mouth frowned in disdain when he mentioned her people. She chose not to acknowledge it.

"I'll look forward to it," Peach said, waving him off as he disappeared down the pipe. 

As she was heading back to the castle to carry out the rest of her appointments and for the remainder of the day, Bowser's words and the idea of marriage played throughout her mind. For the first time since her coronation, she was thinking about all the other responsibilities that came with being a leader.

The sun had already set for the day and Peach found herself in her office chair reviewing notes written by both herself and council along with documents from  today. She could feel her eyelids getting heavy and brain turning into mush as she tried to process the words enough to know where to properly sort them in the drawers behind her. A long yawn filled the otherwise silent room and in that moment she looked up at the clock and it was about a half an hour till 12am. The first obligation scheduled for the day was set for seven. With a groan she contemplated on just leaving everything sprawled out on the desk and just calling it a night. A small laugh found its way out of her mouth as she could practically hear Toadsworth saying that he taught her to make sure all her areas were left spotless when she leaves. Gathering up the last little bit of her energy, Peach willed herself into finally sorting the papers and the thoughts from earlier bought her Advisor outside of her door with a knock.

At her words of 'come in' the door opened and in walked Toadsworth dressed in  lavender striped nightshirt,  matching night hat atop his cap, and white slippers instead of his usual attire with his signature bowtie. 

"Time management needs to get better my dear Princess. This is the fifth time this month I've found you in here at an unruly hour" He tsked and set to work organizing the writing materials on the desk and then her papers. 

Peach watched as with just a five to ten second glance he knew the correct place to file it for later, Truly earning his place as being her most trusted advisor. He's always been there to listen to her concerns and give her good advice whenever she found herself too much in her head.

"I guess I was just a little distracted by something today and it's taking me a while to get this stuff done" she told him, moving to help with the other stuff.

"Oh? Perhaps you'd like to discuss? It may help to ease your mind." He offered before gasping suddenly at the sight the untouched tray of food. "Before we get to that you need to eat your dinner" confirming his suspicions he lifted up the lid. 

With a quick promise of returning he grabbed the tray and left the office. Peach finished sorting the remaining papers. By the time she placed the last piece away, Toadsworth returned with the now warmed meal. She was a few bites into her grilled cheep fish sandwich before the toad seated across urged her to share what was on her mind.

"What do you think about the idea of me getting married to someone someday?" she asked him finding the right way to phrase it. 

Immediately Toadsworth eyes glanced to both her hands for an extravagant ring on her finger. He put his hand over his chest to ease slow down his heartbeat when he realized she hadn't rushed into a commitment like that without talking to him first.

"Well of course I want you to find someone that you're so infatuated with to want to spend the rest of your life with." He told her and took a sip of tea he bought up earlier. "As a matter of fact...I should probably apologize for not allowing you to interact with people more like you despite them being a pipe away" he added, setting the cup down and looking at nothing on her desk.

To an extent she understood where he was coming from but, on the other hand she couldn't remember a time growing up where she wanted to be around other humans. Then again from the time she turned nine after a normal school day she was immediately thrusted into formal leadership teachings so where did she have time to really think about it. In conclusion, Peach thought that she couldn't quite miss or be bitter about something she never had an association with in the first place.

"There's no need to apologize about that Toadsworth" she started and reached out for his hand. Toadsworth grabbed it, giving it a squeeze. "I don't think it matters how a person looks so much as their personality and how they are when it comes to ruling." Peach finished with a smile.

"If you say so my dear" Toadsworth patted her hand with his other hand and returned her smile with his own best. 

Hearing that made him feel a bit better but, he'd be lying to himself if he didn't think he could've done better as her guardian. Sure Peach has turned out to be an amazing young lady and while she still had a lot more growing to do, he was proud at just how good of a leader she is now. Toadsworth did wonder just how much if any of her mental has been affected by not being around humans and wasn't sure if he was ready to face it should the time come.

"You must be in love if you're asking questions about marriage. Am I right?" He asked to get them back to the topic at hand. Now thinking and hoping that it's not about the Koopa King after what she said earlier. Saying she fell for one of the toad guards would've been better if he was honest.

"Not exactly" she started not acknowledging the look of relief on his face. 'What was he thinking she was going to say?' It was probably better she didn't know so she just carried on. "I was looking up other reasons that people, well mostly royalty get married and it's not always about love" she shared this most recent discovery with him but if she thought about it he probably already knew that fact.

"I guess I understand that. What pushed you to look into all that Princess" he urged her to continue. Peach gathered her thoughts for some moments and took a deep breath before speaking.

"Well why I don't think I like Bowser in that way, his influence as an ally has proven to be good. Mmm I guess if there's a permanent engagement in place  especially when it comes to the safety of everyone. If that's taken care of well then I guess I could learn to love him or anyone for that matter later" Peach told him and then felt unconfident about it seconds later "I'm sorry does that make any sense? I fear it doesn't." She said turning away to focus on the wall.

"I see where you might have come to that conclusion. I do want to assure you that as you will never have to make a decision like that alone and if you feel you need to I would hope you address that with the council or me first." He told her sternly and only continued when she gave him a nod. "Furthermore, as the people who have cared for you from the time you were little, your happiness means the most to us and while other kingdoms have their own rules set in place, here you will marry who you love ok." Again she nodded to show that she was still listening to him. "Finally if it's the peoples safety that really pushes you to go forward with something like that, then we'll give us time to show you that we can adapt and find ways to be strong ourselves." He finished but felt it necessary to add the next point. "We trust you so you have to trust us."

While Toadsworth wanted to follow that up with he'd be fine with her marrying anyone that wasn't Bowser, he didn't want to sound like an immediate hypocrite should she genuinely fall for him in the future. Though he'd have to see a serious change in that reptile to even consider him someone worthy of respect other than having the obvious title.

Peach could feel a burning sting prick the corners of her eyes while processing his words. In some part of her mind she knew that but it hit so much harder hearing come out of his mouth. It probably was because it came from Toadsworth but she also knew everyone would also say the same thing. With that she gathered the strength to get up from her seat, walk around the desk, and wrap her arms around his neck. Only feeling him return with the same gesture did she speak.

"Thank you Toadsworth" she said as a happy tear streaked down her cheek.

_______

Three weeks later Peach found herself in the throne room and felt another headache coming along as one of the Toad gave the same report since the first day. Part of her alliance with Bowser included sending some of his minions to do border control once dark rolls around, while other Toads patrolled during the day. There hasn't exactly been anything seen to warrant having such a thing in place but it was better to be safe than sorry.  However as of late, Koopa Troops and Goombas haven't been showing up to their posts to alleviate them leaving the toads to pull all-nighters to ensure the safety of the citizens. After the third night, Peach ordered them to return home to rest and just return by the time night falls since that's more important. The Princess has written several letters to the Koopa King about this but hasn't heard anything back yet. She even checked her document from the last meeting with him to make sure everything was still the same and sure enough his signature was there at the end of the paper.

Rubbing the temples of her head she told the reporter Toad to once again tell the others along the borders to return home to rest and return to their post by the time the moon enters the sky. Before he left to do exactly that, the toad left her with one more thing to know about. Power-ups only exclusive to the darklands she found really helped toads with certain tasks and vice versa when it came to the mushroom kingdom. Well the toads who normally handle all the imports and exports hadn't heard from the Koopa's King's people and their scheduled date was closing in. Peach assured him that she'll take care of everything with a smile as he took his exit.  She concluded that if she couldn't get a hold of Bowser via letters, she'd just have to pay him a visit in person to see what was going on. If the darklands was dealing with problems of its own, she'd hate to selfishly make it about her own Kingdom's needs and would provide support if she could.

All she gathered from her visit was that 1. The Darklands was doing just fine as the inhabitants went about their daily happy lives, at least by the kingdom's standards. 2. All the guards that normally took the border work at night were also in good shape. That didn't mean they were these past weeks she had to tell herself but also had some doubts.  Finally 3. Bowser was doing just fine and reading her letters as well. Rather he really was there or not, Peach wasn't gonna keep bombarding Kamek with questions. The magikoopa did tell her that it was under Bowser's direct order that the citizens weren't allowed to leave the darklands under any circumstance until he said otherwise. At least she got an answer for their lack of attendance the past three weeks. She just told him to tell the Koopa King to get back at her when he could, to which the wizard assured her he'd pass the message. 

Another three weeks went by and she still hadn't heard from Bowser in any form be it letters or in person. What she was expecting to see on her daily strolls through the town was her people barely managing to get through the day. Instead what she saw was the toads going on as normal, chatting about the usual topics, and smiling. The toads on border control took it amongst themselves to get back on a similar schedule where some would take the daytime and others would take the night, switching it up every now and then. Even though she saw it with her own eyes her mind just couldn't accept that everything was just fine. One day after everything was taken care of she found herself in Toadsworth office silently sitting there as the advisor did some calculations. It was silent for just a few more minutes before she finally decided to speak.

"Am I being tricked by everyone?" She asked him. Earning a questioning look from the mustached Toad. "It's just that everyone seems okay but are they really okay? Or are they just acting like they are when I come around?" She tried to get him to see what she was getting at. He was still very much confused.

"I don't believe your people would try to deceive you in that way Princess. More or less how would they be able to hide their suffering from you with a snap of the finger." Toadsworth said, trying to get her to logically think about the first question.

"Well I have developed a routine of visiting the town. Perhaps they've caught on to it and spend those hours in good spirits when I come around?" Peach reasoned with him and even she could admit to herself that that didn't make any sense.

"Or perhaps everyone really is just doing good. My dear we've always had a knack for finding ways to manage things on our own together. So even if we don't have what we're used to, guarantee we've found a way to do it ourselves." He finished that last part with a chuckle though that didn't reach Peach.

"If you say so. I'm going to pay another visit and see how it goes. Maybe I'll get somewhere this time." Peach told him,  getting up and heading towards the door.

"Of course Princess. Be sure to return at a decent time. I'll be waiting" Toadsworth promised her, returning to his calculations. 

Who was he to stop her or be the one to say her visits would be futile. Part of being a leader meant she had to face some things head on and see people's true colors. Even after all these years.

This visit was already off to a better start than the last as she caught Bowser returning to the castle. The King insisted that he wasn't in the mood for a visit but she explained that it wouldn't take long. Much to his annoyance he agreed and she waited alone in his throne room for a good ten minutes till he came in and sat down. No more than five seconds of silence Bowser snapped.

"Well...you said this would be quick...start talking" he snarled. A brief smirk of satisfaction crossed his face when Peach flinched in place and she stuttered a few words.

"Well to start I just wanted to know if our alliance still holds any weight? As of lately I haven't seen you hold your end and I've been wondering if somethings wrong." Peach told him once she remembered how to form words.

"I don't know...Depends Princess. What have you learned about doing it all on your own?" Head in hand he looked down at her from his spot on the throne.

At that moment everything seemed to come together and to say she was angry was an understatement. She was outright furious to find out the reason for him acting like this for the past two months was because of a small thing she said. It took everything she had in that moment not to blow up on him. Instead she took a deep breath and told herself that to some degree she had to placate the King if she wanted to see some semblance of normalcy return to her kingdom.

"While for certain I don't want to get married anytime soon...I'll still keep you in mind as a potential suitor." She gauged his reaction to see him looking quite impressed. "I do know that having your help makes it easier on my people's lives. So at your earliest convenience could we get everything back in place. It would be appreciated." She finished with a bow of her head.

With how long it took him to finally speak up, she was starting to feel like he'd just dismiss on the spot. Peach wasn't sure what she would've done if that happened. Would she have begged on the spot or even say she'd marry him the next day. Luckily neither of those options happened.

"I hear you. Tell your people to expect my minion's to contact them and be at their place by tomorrow." He waved a hand. Peach looked up at him and smiled finally hearing what she wanted. Already picturing everything returning to normal. "One more thing I still have some things to take care of but in about two months at most I'll start taking you to other Kingdoms so be prepared" He added.

"I will. Thank you" with one more bow she turned to take her exit.

Bowser stayed true to his word and only for the first time in weeks did she feel more at peace seeing the toads resume their daily routines. To the best of her abilities, Peach tried to tune out the voice in her mind along with Toadsworth's verbal and knowing look saying 'Everyone was fine all along'. While ignoring her was mostly intentional on his part, he really did have other obligations that came with his title. He reached the age and maturity where it was time to produce an heir and there was responsibility that came with keeping the bloodline as pure as possible. That intrigued Peach if only for the mere fact that she would one day be able to see a baby Koopa. Nothing could ever compare to baby toads though in her own biased opinion but it could come close. There was also the bonus of seeing papa Bowser in which she could barely contain a giggle every time she thought about it much to his annoyance.

Within the next year she was introduced to a variety of rulers who were mostly older than them. Peach found that leaders whose kingdom's were closer to her own home, were easier to make connections with. The leaders whose kingdoms were more shrouded in darkness and mystery, gave her a more unsettling feeling if she was honest. From the domain full of Ghosts who's tragic stories she'd rather not know about to a literal bomb that would probably explode over anything, she thought it'd be best to prevent any problems before they present themselves. There was no amount of asking to convince Bowser to take her to the jungle kingdom. Something about reptiles not mixing well with apes and he also couldn't stand the crocodile king that resided there. She'd just have to visit herself one day to see just how advanced it was.

Sarasland was another kingdom she wanted to see if only for the chance to meet someone around her age. Name and reputation alone wasn't enough to get an audience. The leaders had to get together and send a personal invitation and the qualifications for that weren't so straightforward. Peach would keep her fingers crossed that she would one day receive a summon. Bowser ended up taking her to the neighboring flower kingdom and while he didn't have many good things to say about it or their people, she did. That was made possible by interacting with their Prince by the name Haru. The moment she first sputtered out how pretty she thought his cerulean hair was, sparked the first of their conversations.

While the council and surprisingly Toadsworth left to tour a separate part of the kingdom, Haru took her on a quiet walk in their castle garden. There was the back and forth that comes with meeting with someone for the first time but, Peach was really surprised with how comfortable and natural they fell into conversation. Together they sat on one of the benches as he handed her a flower and complimenting her appearance for the second time, whatever was going to happen next was interrupted by Bowser showing up finally finding where she disappeared off to. That caused an almost comical misunderstanding of Haru assuming the two were engaged and he was overstepping in some way. Until Peach explained that was far from the truth, much to the anger on Bowser's face. They all said their goodbyes and just as they were about to depart Haru stopped her with a piece of paper. Said paper contained his castle address and insignia.

The added comment of hoping to hear from her soon started the two months of communicating with each other via letters. There were many days after completing her daily tasks where she'd spent time writing just to make sure it was ready for the deliverer by morning. Two days ago he had invited her to the flower kingdom to show her how to drive a motorbike, as enthusiastically as possible through words she accepted the offer. Toadsworth and a few members of the council escorted her to the kingdom and while they carried on with the scheduled meeting, Haru took her to the location of his bike. Now she stood there in traditional toad clothing she hadn't worn in forever since her dress wasn't appropriate attire for this activity, while Haru did a final once over on the bike.

"Ready to go Princess? Feel free to climb on" He told her after getting on the vehicle himself. 

There's only one seat she rationalized with one look. Was she just supposed to sit behind him? Would it be more appropriate or safe if she just sat sideways on the bike and held on to him that way? Wait, could she just wrap her arms around him? In the midst of her asking those questions to herself, a hand was guiding her to sit down on the back behind him. Haru assured her that he didn't mind her holding onto him as a matter of fact he'd prefer it cause he has a habit of going fast. That didn't stop his ears from turning red and stiffening a little under her touch.

Before taking off he passed her a gray helmet with the promise of getting her a pink one for next time. It was her turn to blush as she slid it on to hide her cheeks at just the very comment of him wanting to do this again with her. They took off and through the face shield, Peach watched as the scenery sped by. Of course she enjoyed calm and slow walks but, there was something more freeing that came from riding. They made it to a more open area and that's when they both got off the bike and he started explaining how everything worked. The Prince told her to try it for herself and maybe it was due to beginners' luck, but she caught on pretty easily for it to be her first time. By herself she remained cool and collected but, as soon as he hopped back on and held onto her waist it was a different story.

Peach was braking the bike excessively, swaying side to side, or going too fast one moment and too slow the next. The most embarrassing thing had also happened when she suddenly popped a wheelie. She was certain Haru had lost his hand but not sure why but one moment he was right behind her and the next he was on the ground. Of course she stopped immediately turning off the bike, rushing to his side, and apologizing profusely while helping him up and checking for any injuries. After that he proposed that they take a break and just admire the clouds, it was a beautiful day afterall. They laid on the soft grass together shoulder to shoulder, the smallest distance together they've been today. They made small talk pointing out the shapes of the clouds first to other random stuff before they somehow got on to the topic of families.

"Does it ever bother you that you don't know where you're from? Or that you don't know who your parents are?" He asked her hoping it wasn't a touchy subject. She hummed thoughtfully.

"Not really. I mean I've lived with the toads for so long that I can't say for certain I'd feel any different from knowing anything if that makes sense." She truthfully answered.

Peach knew for as long as she lived, she would always regard the toads as her true family seeing as they've always been there. She couldn't imagine how different her life would be now if she had ended up somewhere else or even stayed with her original family.

"I'm just really happy where I am now in life where I've come across many people now and am just looking forward to what the future has in store" Peach finished sitting up. Haru followed the motion.

"That's a nice way to think about it. I guess we wouldn't be sitting here together now if you never ended up here." He said putting his arms on his knees. "I hope that I can be more a part of your future," he added, facing away to hide the blood rising to his cheeks.

"Hmm well you're an ally of ours now. Of course you're going to be a part of that future." Peach told him as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. When he snorted covering his mouth she couldn't help but think that something in what he just said went over her head. "What are you laughing about?" She pouted and it took him a minute to gather himself.

"True but, that wasn't entirely what I meant about being in your future" this time putting more emphasis on the word 'your' hoping it would come across differently this time around. Peach still had a slight look of confusion on her face. "Here um, if you would allow me..." He turned, repositioning his body to face her prompting her to do the same with her head.

As quickly as it all started it was over. One moment he had a hand on her cheek pulling her to him. Soft lips pressed against hers for several seconds. Before she had time to process returning the action, he was pulling away standing up and offering his hand. Haru apologized and told her they should probably head back as the meeting was probably done by now. Peach was speechless during the entire exchange unsure what had gotten into him. The ride back was just as quiet and slow as if he still wanted to prolong the time to the destination. He bid her farewell after taking her to the castle's meeting room, not waiting around to do the same with the others.

They went two weeks after that going about their daily routines minus writing letters. Well Peach herself didn't entirely stop writing them. After finishing them, she couldn't find the confidence to actually pass it along to the messenger. By day sixteen her drawer was almost filled to the brim of unsent papers. Toadsworth noticed the change and had asked her about it, but she convinced him that it was nothing. When deliveries came around the next day, there was a letter from Haru and just as she got her hopes up, it depleted upon seeing it was addressed to Toadsworth. Apparently Haru had matters that he could only talk to her advisor about, is all Toadsworth said.

Peach couldn't help but feel a little anger towards Haru. From kissing her, to ignoring her, and now requesting to meet with her advisor of all people, could he not talk to his own people. For once she actually envied Toadsworth's age and life experience that made people want to seek him out for advice. She had half the mind to order him to write a letter declining cause if he can't talk to her, why should he be able to talk to Toadsworth. Curiosity got the best of her though and even she said not to, Toadsworth probably wouldn't listen without a valid reason. So as planned, Haru arrived to meet with Toadsworth and had the audacity to smile and wave in her direction. Having other places to be, she said her farewells to Toadsworth and went on her way before he had a chance to lecture her about the rude behavior.

A couple hours went by and she had almost forgot he was here till she stepped outside her office to see him standing there. Part of her was happy that he decided to stick around for a while. Then she remembered why he initially visited and did an entire mood change.

"I suppose now that your business with Toadsworth is taken care of you'll be taking your leave?" Peach asked him, keeping a formal tone. 

"Well I should, but I have no other obligations and I really wanted to talk to you." He said walking up to her. "That is if you want to," he added.

"Sure I guess" she said, not bothering to fight back the smile on her own face as he gave his own. She fell in line beside him as they made their way outside the castle. 

"I want to say that while I don't apologize for kissing you, I do want to apologize for not following the procedures in order to do that in the first place." He started turning to look at her. "It's actually why I wanted to talk to Toadsworth and your council to see if I could fix things if you will." He stopped  there to allow her time to process what he was saying.

"Fix things cause you kissed me? I'm sorry but I'm a little confused." She said inviting him to elaborate.

"Well I guess what I want to do is enter a courting arrangement with you." He said finally getting to the point "I figured it'd be best if I got Toadsworth's permission and I also wanted to ensure that there weren't any other plans for you in that regard" That last part made her remember their first encounter when Bowser had shown up.

"Oh well what did he say?" She was curious now. It had been awhile since they had discussed that aspect of her life and wasn't sure if anything had changed.

"He said that he had no problems with it but, in the end the choice is up to you" he repeated her stewards words "said your happiness is what's most important...so would that be something you want to do be in with me?" and with that he stopped in place as they made it outside the town reaching his bike.

"Sounds like him" she smiled in relief before noticing how he'd become a bit fidgety as she hadn't answered the question. "Oh yes sure let's try it" Peach made a move to hold his hands in her own.

"Really? Okay then gosh, we'll then I'm going to try and see you more often if that's alright with you." Haru stammered over his own words in excitement moving in to close the distance. "Would it be alright if I kiss you now? as official partners"  He asked leaning in when she nodded yes.

"It sounds like the discussion didn't take long. I know Toadsworth can talk a lot though but still two hours? I hope I didn't keep you waiting that long outside" she said after they had pulled apart and he started to get settled on his bike.

"I want to say we talked for a good hour about the relationship thing with you. There was so much he had to say." Haru was remembering every last word from the conversation. "I wanted to come to you right away after that but, he said I should allow you to focus on work and so for the remainder of the time we spent it playing a few rounds of mahjong. In the end it was 0-5 in his favor. " He feigned annoyance at having to admit that and smiled when that got a laugh out of Peach.

"You'll get him one day I believe. If it makes you feel better, I'm 109-10 and those were pity wins because it was my birthday" she said, waving him off as he drove off.

For the next few months when either had downtime they would visit the other's kingdom. More often than not Haru, would be at the mushroom kingdom or either picking her up to take her to the flower kingdom to spend time there. They returned to writing letters to each other everyday and while it was mostly about stuff they talked about before, some of the letters took on different turns on both their parts. The content that some of the letters contained had Peach double checking the seals of letters before sending them off, doubling up the original with extra empty papers, or choosing to read them late at night in her own room. They also talked about future plans when the topic of marriage came up. Even though he hadn't asked the question yet, talking about it had her thinking it was only a matter of time. She briefly considered how all that would work being that they were from different kingdoms in all, but that could wait she concluded.

The next time Peach met up with Bowser, she updated him on everything that had happened. To say he wasn't pleased was definitely an understatement. The Koopa King went on about what Haru could possibly do for her Kingdom that he hasn't been doing for years and how she's only infatuated with him cause he's just like her. Dealing with Bowser for years, Peach knew it was best to just let him say whatever lest it lead to something bigger. It was in the middle of his tangent that Haru decided to appear having been waiting for a little longer than normal. Bowser decided at that moment it was time to leave, giving Haru the meanest glare as he walked past. Uncharacteristically Haru returned the gesture and Peach was glad Bowser's back was turned. As they were on the way to the flower kingdom Haru would ask her how she's put up with him all these years.

Peach had quickly learned not to bring either man up to the other regardless of what it was about. If it didn't have nothing to do with making sure everything remained functional in her kingdom it wasn't discussed. If it didn't have anything to do with the two of them specifically it wasn't discussed. In her excitement one day she did slip up and tell Bowser that Haru had officially proposed with a ring and everything. After the conversation it left her viewing a few of her most recent encounters and relationship as a whole a bit differently. Just as she was starting to feel a bit better about things, one night after having dinner with the King, Queen, and Haru's council left both of them in a weird mood by the time they went up to his room. Haru in particular seemed to be lost deep in his own thoughts, having not said a single word as they laid together on bed before he suddenly got up and sat down at his own desk and started writing down stuff on paper.

"So tell me again while it would be more preferable to have a boy first." Peach asked, staring up at the ceiling breaking the silence.

"It's more so about the title. See here in the flower kingdom the next in line for the crown goes to the oldest male once the current King passes. So while my dad was born after my aunt, the throne automatically went to him once my grandfather passed because of that." He explained while writing. "It was quite the conflict between everyone around that time but it's what the will stated and one of the last laws he passed. My dad's been assuming that we're going to be adapting laws from here since it's more 'set in stone' and 'proven to work' none of that making it up as it happens." Haru said only dropping his pen to do air quotes with his hands. "I'm sorry if he made you think that he or even myself would be disappointed in having a firstborn daughter. It's quite annoying since we haven't even gotten married yet and they're going on about kids now." He apologized, returning to the task at hand.

"I see. On the topic of kids I guess, how do you think I'd do as a mother? I mean I also started training a little later in life to become a princess and with this child I would have to start them earlier right" Peach asked more questions rushing to her brain than she could voice. He hummed before answering.

"Well I've seen you with both babies here and in your own Kingdom. I think you'd be a great mom. You grew up surrounded by toads so you know what it's like to be really involved so to speak. It's me you'll probably have to reign in every now and then, even up to four years ago I very rarely saw my own parents around and spent most of my days with mentors." He recounted, pen going to his cheek briefly before returning it to the paper "As far as training goes well like me we can have a few mentors if you want and you have me, I'll tell them what I experienced. We can also decide the best age to start it if that helps. But, again I just say we focus on getting through this wedding first before all that stuff" He finished.

Peach thought it'd be best to take his advice for now and worry about that topic for later and she also sensed that would be how he'd end everything else regarding the matter. She sat up covering her legs with the t-shirt and then pulling them to her chest.

"Is that why you're over there writing down some hypothetical laws of your own" Peach guessed and did a little cheer in her head when he stiffened in place.

"They're hypothetical laws for us" he corrected and faced the opposite direction in the chair. "I figured since you were thinking about things having it written down where you could see it would help and maybe for me too" he concluded and matched the frown that appeared on her face.

"How is it for us when I'm not giving any input?" She asked him.

"In a way you are by talking about your worries. I'm just adjusting and making things accordingly so you don't think about when the time comes. I was gonna show you later once it was a bit more polished." He promised.

"Would you be ok if we were to hypothetically still have an alliance in place with Bowser?" Peach asked out of the blue.

"What does he have to do with anything Princess?" He was genuinely confused at the sudden change of subject in the span of twenty minutes. She gave him a look that told him to answer the question. He groaned "If I'm honest I'm not 100% on board with it. I mean I was always taught to be wary when it comes to Koopa's. I'm willing to go along with it if that's what you want but I'm not going to be as kind as you are and allow him to do and talk as he pleases"  He told her honetime.

“I guess I understand where you're coming from but, there's a certain way you have to deal with him or he could get vindictive. " Peach advised.

"That doesn't mean anything to me, especially since I've been without his assistance for years and been ok. I would like to think that by being your husband you'd have faith that I know what's best for the people." He said feeling offended.

Peach was silent, not sure what could be said to make Haru not think that way. Making decisions alone was easy but doing it as a team seemed like it took way more work. In her own head she didn't process the bed shift under the added weight and arms wrapping around her shoulders until he spoke.

"I really do mean what I said. Look I know I haven't been there as long as Bowser and I know I'm nothing to compare to him physically but, I'd do anything I can against him for the people and you. So put some trust in me that I'll know the best choice" he begged.

Peach let the nodding of her head do the speaking instead of using her own voice not trusting it to sound sincere. Haru took it for now and hoped that one day he'd be able to prove it to her in the future. They ended up dozing off for a while before Peach woke up and asked if he could take her home. Despite the late hour, he slipped on some clothes and had her home in record time.

_____

It was three days to the wedding and aside from a few little things that could be handled on the day of, The preparations were complete. For the first time in a while she had actually finished all her work early. Not that she had much stuff with everything going on, just similar stuff for her coronation minus a speech.  Peach laid on top of covers in the dark room, engagement ring on the stand instead of her finger.  Deep down she had already admitted that she wasn't ready for this. There were just too many unknown possibilities that for some reason she could only envision poor outcomes. When she had told some of the Toads this, they had completely brushed her off saying it was just the pre-wedding jitters and once she's walking down the aisle it would fade away instantly..

At that moment she just agreed and laughed it off with them but she couldn't shake the thought that they were just telling her that because they had put so much energy into the preparations for her to change her mind. Something a couple of Toads in particular said was really sticking in her head and made her just want to suck it up and go through with it regardless of feelings. 

"If you change your mind now, you might end up regretting it later" one of them said as they were twisting her hair.

"Who knows if you'll ever find someone else that loves you the same way or even more than he does" The other one said while painting her nails.

"Oh but think of your reputation amongst the lands my dear. If you back out now any potential suitor looking your way will see you as a flake." The former one finished her hair and held a mirror up. "Do you like it?" Peach nodded.

"Don't say that! anyone would be lucky to take our Princess as their bride. Pay her no mind dear." The latter one held her hand up at a better angle "ooh I smudged it a little," she frowned and got to work fixing it.

Peach had tuned out for the remainder of the time she was there only replying with single words and nonverbal movements with her head. She grabbed the pillow and covered her face in a lousy attempt to drown out the words. The knock at the door caught her attention and like many times before she knew exactly who it was. Upon her approval, he walked Toadsworth and he stood right at the head of the bed. 

"I would assume you'd be in much higher spirits given that you're getting married soon. Yet you're in here alone and looking upset" he said his observations out loud. "Any reason for that?" He asked.

"Just because I'm laying down doesn't mean I'm upset." She told him. "I'm just a little exhausted with everything so I'm trying to catch up on sleep" she lied and turned to face the other direction. 

Even in the dark she could feel his gaze burning a hole in the back of her head.

"I'm not convinced that's the truth at all Princess. However, if you wish not to discuss what's bothering you now, know that I'll be here to listen to you later. You know where I'll be" he assured her, making his way to the door. 

The mustached toad didn't even make it five steps away from the bed before she sat in the bed reaching an arm out at him and in a panic told him to wait. Halting in his steps as he waited for her next instruction. The word came out of her mouth faster than her brain processed as she slowly lowered her arm thinking about the best way to talk about it.

"Could you just...you know what, wait a second'' Peach started but then decided to get up off the bed, turn the light on, and grab the chair from her work desk bringing it over to her bed. "Sit please" He did as he was asked and held her hand when she reached for it. "I, well, gosh I'm sorry" she choked then took a deep breath and then apologized, failing to find the right words.

"Peach, It's okay, take your time." He rubbed her hand once he got her attention at the sound of her name. "I'm not going anywhere" He promised, giving her hand a soft squeeze.

The Princess took his advice. Closing her eyes she took a few deep breaths and just focused on the feeling of Toadsworth rubbing her hand in gentle circular motions. It was a good five minutes of that as she collected her thoughts before she felt ready to speak. With one last deep breath, she started.

"I don't think I'm ready for all of this. I mean it's not that I don't love him" she said looking at the ring from the corner of her eye. "It's just... I guess I don't want him or anyone else to hate me for not putting the kingdom's best interest first you know?" She expressed it in the best way she could.

"I see your predicament my dear" Toadsworth said, taking time to process her concerns. "But, I want to remind you that when it comes to love, the kingdom should have nothing to do with it." 

"Toadsworth, the relationships I have with people regardless if it's romantic or not has everything to do with my Kingdom and even others" she tried to get him to understand. "I already hear some people say you could get away with anything and I'd turn a blind eye" she gave a better example and couldn't help the little smile as he chuckled no doubt having heard the same thing.

There was nothing he could really think to say to convince her otherwise. He had a good feeling that her relationship with one particular person was the main cause of all these worries. Toadsworth had decided a long time ago that Peach would have to figure that one out on her own since no amount of talking would get her to see right.

"Never matter, if you're feeling all these doubts, perhaps you should talk to the Prince about waiting longer or if you really feel that it's not a good idea, just call it off all together. I'm sure he'd be more than understanding" Toadsworth offered.

"Do you really think that would work out well with him?" She asked him. The second question of what if he does the same thing as Bowser did? Went unasked because she couldn't even think about grouping those two together in that way.

"I don't see why it wouldn't but you won't know if you don't have the conversation" he said, letting go of her hand and standing up in the chair and widening his arms. Peach did the same and they embraced each other. "You should probably have it sooner rather than later unless you've changed your mind" He combed his fingers through her blonde locks.

"Yeah you're right" she nodded "sorry just a little longer" she held onto him tighter.

"Of course," he whispered, doing the same.

In the end no matter how many times she rehearsed the conversation with an imaginary Haru, nothing felt right and time was running out. Peach decided it would just be easier to communicate with him the way they always did. At least she didn't have to see the look on his face telling him she couldn't go through with it. Better yet she didn't have to worry about him trying to convince her to otherwise change her mind. After sending the letter and the ring off she got a response 24 hours before the wedding was set to start.

"I understand. I'll always be here for you" 

That's all his letter said and she gave a sigh of relief that it was over. Later on that night, the feeling of relief turned into sadness that it was over. Peach once again laid awake in bed staring at the ceiling hoping her heart would heal quickly. There was no time to grieve she had a Kingdom to run and was more than happy to do it alone forever if she had too. All she needed was to know her toads were happy and safe. That's the mantra she kept telling herself to fall asleep. When that didn't work, she could only hope that things would be much easier should another person come along.

[77cc69]

Overthinking

Synopsis: Yoongi asks you out and reassures you about your inexperienced love life.

Pairing: Hybe!Employee!Female!Reader!Y/N X Idol!Yoongi (BTS) (Mentions of other members too)

Genre: Fluff (There’s a slightly angsty theme and suggestion/mention of smut if you squint). Borderline benign obsessive and possessive thoughts from Yoongi, I guess?

Warnings: None.

This is a fictional work. I generally prefer that minors do not interact in case I decide to write about sensitive themes at a later stage. Please read sensibly.

Word count: 3021

This is Part 1 of the Thinking AU. Part 2: Just Thinking (to be added) Part 3: Not Thinking (to be added)

If you wish to be added to (or removed from) the taglist please comment below. 

I’ve used some basic Korean words in transliteration in italics in my writing. In case you don’t know what they mean, here are the translations for all Korean words used: Annyeonghaseyo (안녕하세요) - Hello Sajangnim (사장님) - president / CEO / boss -Ssi (씨) - a term of respect similar to Ms/Mrs/Mr Ne (네) - Yes

Author’s Notes: This is mainly descriptive writing with minimal storyline, but there are other parts that link to this theme that are in the making. I edit my work every now and then, so if you see a new chapter, perhaps consider reading the previous one(s) again in case I edited something to make more sense for the next chapter. This is my very first posted piece of writing, so I’d love to know your opinions. Don’t hesitate to contact me please. Let me know if you have any suggestions too! Just specify which work you're referring to if it's not a comment on the post. If you message anonymously, please provide a reference, alias or emoji for me to differentiate you from others. Last Edited: 25/03/2024

‘Knock knock’. It was gentle, but loud enough for him to hear through his muffling headphones. Patiently, you wait in the passage while other Hybe staff members walk by, bowing their heads as they pass. You’re gripping the papers and the late morning cup of coffee tighter than you should, leaving indents in the pages you’re supposed to deliver. 

There’s a buzz, signalling that the door is now open. You slowly push the door ajar, quietly to not disturb him while he works on his masterpieces that you’re not yet privileged enough to witness. The fact that he lets you enter into his dimly lit studio is honour enough. The only two people who know the key to this room are Jeon Jungkook and Min Yoongi himself. 

There’s a window on the left side of the room, tinted to be able to see outside and into the offices, but no one could see in. That must be how he’d known your name, seeing your labelled desk through the mirrored glass. You hadn’t expected him to notice you, let alone know your name and strike up conversations with you in the company cafeteria. He was one of the world’s best musicians and one of the most desired men on the planet. You were a little nervous to enter. Needless to say, the heartthrob made your heart throb. You always remained polite, respectful and professional as best you could, regardless of the mini developing crush you had blooming inside.

You see him lift the headphones off his ears and drape them around his neck before minimizing the file that was open on his computer screen with a click and spinning around to face you lingering in the doorway. “Annyeonghaseyo.” You bow, careful not to tip the coffee cup. He just nods in response from his spot across the room. “I brought the files that you requested,” you say softly as you gingerly place them on his messy yet somewhat organized desk. He gives a low pitched tired grumble in response. “Mmm.” 

“Sajangnim said that you’ve been in here for quite some time, so I figured I’d bring you some fuel to keep you going too.” You gesture to the warm cardboard cup you’re holding and raise it slightly, steam escaping from the tiny hole in the plastic lid. Has he really been here all night? He looks at you, dumbfounded. You're so sweet. He’s thankful for your kindness.

You stand there awkwardly, holding the coffee cup and searching for a place to put it down that won’t disrupt his mountains of sheet music and chaos. He leans forward and gratefully receives it from your clammy hands. You feel slightly out of place, wondering if you should have ditched the coffee idea and remained entirely professional with him. You fight back the urge to coo at how cute he looks with his saggy eyelids and puffy cheeks. He looks utterly exhausted, like a cat that’s searching for a place to curl up and sleep for the next 20 hours straight.

He takes a sip from the coffee cup, wondering how you knew exactly how much sugar he liked. None. His stage name was Suga, but ironically he takes no sugar in his coffee. He enjoys the taste and appreciates that it’s still hot, but not hot enough to scorch his tongue. Savouring the flavour, his droopy eyes close as evidence of his sleep-deprivation begins to surface. He's not complaining though. He'd work an endless number of hours more if it meant you'd visit him with coffee more often to help with his stamina.

He senses you overthinking about your friendly gesture, but doesn’t show it, opting to lighten the mood instead. He decides to use this opportunity to talk to you alone while he has the chance. “Y/N-ssi?” You look away from his lips on the coffee cup to make eye-contact. “Ne Yoongi-ssi?” “Are you busy tonight?” he asks cordially. You slowly shake your head from side to side, wondering if you should be busy with something. Is this a trick question? Is there a project that you’ve forgotten about? 

“Would you like to go out for dinner this evening?” he asks, all traces of emotion hidden from his face, Daegu dialect pulling through. “Sure,” you accept politely, smiling slightly and internally questioning if that was the correct response or not. “Which of the other colleagues will be there?” you enquire. His face morphs into an unidentifiable expression after you ask what seemed like a perfectly reasonable question to you. 

You’re so naïve.

Your innocent mind and purity almost makes him swoon. He nearly shows it, but tries to stifle the giddiness in his chest. He pretends to be unaffected. “I meant just the two of us. Together. On a date,” he says plainly, awaiting your response.

He observes your pretty face and watches the calculations go off in your head as the final realization in your eyes set in and your lips move to form the word “Oh.” He fears that you might change your mind and waits to hear if your answer to his question changes. 

It doesn’t. 

He watches your beautiful features contort ever so slightly as you hesitate. “I’ve never been on a date before,” you say earnestly. His face relaxes, relieved that that was the only worry plaguing your brilliant mind and he lets out a breath that he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s ok. I’ll teach you. I haven’t been on many dates recently either. The K-Pop idol lifestyle isn’t really conducive to it.” He lets out a little chuckle as you huff out a small laugh of relief too. He has successfully made you feel better about your inexperience, he thinks. 

You squirm and fidget with your sleeve, “But –” Apparently not so successful he realizes, “– I don’t know what’s socially acceptable. I-I don’t know how to kiss. I don’t know how to…” you rattle off, stumbling over your own words. It is in that moment that he knows you’re just as insecure about this as he is. You’re overthinking as much as he is, maybe even a bit more, judging by the stutter that just slipped out your pretty mouth. He leans back in his chair, pale fingers clasped together around the cup in his lap, the cardboard warm. There’s a faint gummy smile tugging on his lips as he takes another sip from the coffee. Amused eyes peer in your direction from behind the cup to see the cogwheels churning in your head. You’re adorable. Your face is tinted slightly pink to match the thin ribbon bow in your hair. He’s about to reassure you again when your rambling continues.

“Yoongi-ssi, I don’t know how to… I-I’m a virgin,” you admit. There. You said it.

He immediately splutters the liquid in his mouth, covering it with his sleeve, bending over and placing the cup on his desk without caring if it spills as he gasps for air in his coughing fit. Wow. Ok. It’s Yoongi’s turn to blush now. You really are getting way ahead of yourself. Next thing he knows, you’ll be contemplating marriage and telling him that you don’t know how to be a mother. He doesn’t mind. It’s endearing. He chuckles, gummy smile now on full display as he averts his gaze. The corners of his eyes crinkle and flatten slightly as his small pearly square teeth are clearly visible in a straight line.

You wonder if he’s laughing at you. Have you gone too far? Have you put him on the spot? You cringe. You’ve said too much. 

He’s received millions of proposals before. Quite literally, millions. Yet, somehow, yours would be the only one in consideration. You’re the only person on Earth that Min Yoongi would fear rejection from. He hopes you don’t know that if you had actually asked about marriage, he would have said yes in an instant. If you’d actually verbalised your insecurity about motherhood, he would have held your hand through all of it, regardless of how hard you’d squeeze, even if you’d crush his hand in the process. 

He grips the armrests of his swivel chair, using his legs to push the chair’s wheels out from under his desk and hoists himself up to stand. He glances down at your cute closed espadrille sandals with pink straps and a slight platform. He's wearing socks, shoes kicked off haphazardly at the door, but he towers over you nonetheless. He strides toward you, socks padding against the dark carpet, and you think he’s about to escort you gracefully out of his studio. He’s so close to you now, peering down at your flushed face with a fond look and a twinkle in his feline eyes. 

He cups your cheeks with both of his hands and continues to stare into your soul while you innocently stare right back. His fingers are rough, callouses from a lifetime of guitar practice, grazing your cheek. The string tied around his wrist tickles your ear as his hands push your hair back, framing your face. 

Your eyes strain to look up at him, struggling to focus when the dim lights above you create a blinding halo over his head. Your arms dangle aimlessly and lame at your sides, not knowing what to do or how to react. You think he’s about to take back his offer to take you out for dinner. You understand. It’s ok. You know you’re awkward. 

He tilts his head closer to yours, the proximity making you question your decision to wear less perfume today. The next thing you know, you feel his eyelashes on your cheeks and his bitter coffee breath fanning over your top lip before you register what’s happening. Your eyes are wide open from shock, his doll-like lips pressing into yours while you’re frozen in place. Realization hits you and you close your eyes, soaking in the unexpected sensations flowing through you. All those thoughts swarming in your head a minute ago have come to a halt and you just enjoy this feeling of closeness. You let your natural instincts take over and slowly move your mouth to mould with his, relaxing against his touch. You’ve never experienced this before. You’re happy it’s with Yoongi. 

Yoongi holds your face still, channelling all of the energy that he’s had pent up, into his first kiss with you. He wants this intimate moment to be memorable. For both of you. He’s actually glad that he’ll be your first. Your first kiss, your first date, the first man to hold your hand with the intention of never letting go, and your first… well, your first partner. He hopes to be your last and only. You’re pure, innocent and untainted. He likes that.

You have no idea how much courage it took him to ask you out. Yoongi has the confidence to be able to perform in front of millions of ARMYs, but it was nowhere to be seen when it came to asking you this big question today. His confidence had vanished into thin air and all he was left with was his usual calm demeanour which he hopes did the trick. He hopes it sounded casual enough even though he could hear his heart pounding in his throat. 

He’s been observing you for a while now, seeing as you pass by while running your errands each day. He had been admiring you since the day you started working at the company, thanking the heavens for Bang PD placing you in the same section of the building where his studio was located. The perfect view of your desk was visible through his window where no one could see him being distracted every single day. 

He’d noticed a lot about you in the last few months that he’d known you, like how consistently hard working you are and how you always pay attention to detail. He watched you pouring coffee for Namjoon the other day, swirling a floral pattern into the foam before capping the plastic lid on the paper cup and being careful not to spill a drop. He hopes that one day, he’ll be the only man receiving coffee from your dainty hands. You're clever, beautiful and have a heart of gold. How could he not want to be selfish and keep you all to himself?

It was strange how quickly he'd warmed up to you considering how long it usually takes him to become comfortable with strangers. He's usually so introverted, but holding your face in his palms and having you close to him just felt so normal, so easy, natural and just so right.

As he slowly and reluctantly releases your face from his passionate grip, he realizes there’s something that he hasn’t admitted to you. 

Your eyes flutter open. Neither of you know how long the kiss lasted. Time itself had stopped. Nothing else in the world mattered in that moment. He’d caught you off guard, but you didn’t mind one bit. In fact, you quite liked it, even though he’d left you feeling slightly light-headed. There’s a faint coffee bitterness lingering on your lips, but you can’t bring yourself to wipe the sweet aftertaste away. He’s smirking and you wonder if you’re dreaming. Did he, Min Yoongi, really just kiss you, or are you standing there dumbfounded while he smirks at you after you’d imagined the whole thing? No, you couldn’t have imagined it. You don’t think your mind is capable of being creative enough to come up with something so vivid. Could he hear what’s going on in your head? No, that’s not possible. Right? 

He clears his throat awkwardly, removing you from your dazed state. “Don’t worry Y/N. We’ll get to the other things you mentioned at a later stage, but for now, I think you’d better get back to work.” It is an unsaid promise that there is more where that came from. You look up at him shyly, not knowing what to say, but slowly nodding in acknowledgement, his words left lingering in the coffeed air between you. His smile brightens before disappearing entirely as if it was never there, making you believe that this was, indeed, just a dream all along. “We’ll leave work at seven,” he says flatly, no traces of his adoration shining through anymore like the warm words shared before. He then walks over to his desk and plonks himself back into the swivel chair, slouching lazily once again, wishing you’d stay, but he’d never show it. 

You notice a soft smile peeping through his unphased facade, but it might just be in your imagination again, so you don’t say anything. It still warms your heart to think that maybe, just maybe, he feels the same way you do. 

You bow, flustered, unable to wipe the blush and smile off your face, and turn around to exit. Just before closing the door behind you, you peek back in to see his back facing you, headphones on with dark fluffy hair bopping to the music as before like nothing had happened. You prefer his natural hair colour. You giggle to yourself like a schoolgirl as soon as the door is closed, quick to try neutralize your face when you see someone approaching in the hallway. If this was what your first kiss was like, you couldn’t wait for your first date later this evening.

What you hadn’t seen when you looked back into his studio to see the back of his head, was that Yoongi had the brightest gummy smile plastered over his face with the rosiest doughy cheeks that no one else would ever see. You had energized him, not with the coffee that you’d brought with you, but merely with your presence. As much as he should use this new found energy to get his work done before your date together, he was not going to be able to concentrate for the rest of the day. He’d end up writing ballads instead of the hardcore rap that he’d intended. He thinks, one day, he’ll show you his lyric book, littered with scribbles and confessions all about you. You are his muse after all.

He closes his eyes to picture your reaction from earlier that he’d done his best to memorise. It’s like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. It’s both a blessing and a curse that you are so blissfully unaware of his feelings for you. You don’t notice the fondness in his gaze when he stares at you. You’ve never noticed that he can’t pry his eyes off of you no matter how hard he tries to look away. Even after he’d silently committed his life to you, blatantly asked you out on a date, and kissed you like you were his life support, you didn’t know that he wanted you to be his, forever. You probably thought of him as a guy who just hit on you and kissed you to shut you up. You don’t know that he had kissed you to shut himself up. He needed a way to stop himself from saying the most ridiculously cliched poetry and to stop him from proclaiming everything to the world. He needed a way to show you how much he cared about you without embarrassing himself. He needed a way to reassure you and to settle the insecurities that he witnessed roaming around in your head. 

He doesn’t know when his feelings for you started to develop. What he does know, is that they are diamond strong, and that everything with you just feels right. While you were frantically confessing that you didn’t know how to kiss or go on a date, there was only one thing going through his head. There was something that he didn’t know how to do either. You thought that you were getting ahead of yourself. Compared to him, you were nowhere close. The thing that he didn’t admit to you while he let you babble on, was that he, Min Yoongi, didn’t know how to say the words ‘I love you’.

[jule1122]

Malex Fic - Fuck my way through college

Written for @rnmafterdark Day 3. This is chapter 1 of 2, but it can completely stand alone. Chapter 1 is mostly casual sex and chapter 2 will be more sex but with feelings.

This is a college AU I've been trying to write since I first heard the line "Fuck my way through college" from Glass Animal's "Take a Slice." Sex and sexuality are looked at and talked about with college levels of majority. There are references to Michael and Alex with others, but the sex scenes are between the two of them.

Additional Warnings: Alex sings a lyric from Green Day's "American Idiot" that contains a homophobic slur. It's not used as a slur, but the word is there. For the dubious consent - Michael sees Alex giving someone else a blow job, he enters the room and with Alex's consent jerks Alex off. The other person is not aware Michael is there until the end, but it not upset.

Fuck my way through college Chapter 1 on A03

Summary: When Michael's roommate hooks up with the guy who gives the best blow jobs on campus, Michael never expected it to be Alex Manes.

“You know what I want right now,” Michael says as he passes Chris the joint they’ve been sharing.

Chris glances over at the empty pizza boxes piled on the desk and sighs, “Wings?”

Michael hums in agreement. “Wings would be awesome, but I really want a blow job.”  It’s not that being high makes him horny, exactly, but it does make him crave contact.  He wants to kiss someone and hold them and then have them hold his dick in his mouth until he gets hard and comes.

“Been awhile?” Chris sympathizes.

“Too long,” Michael whines.  He’d gotten all his gen ed requirements out of the way his freshman year and had breezed through with plenty of time for parties and sex.  Now faced with demands of a double engineering major, he’s been unprepared for the amount of time his midterm projects consume.

“You still bi?” Chris asks as he hands the joint back to Michael.

If anyone else asked, Michael would be offended, but Chris shrugged off Michael’s sexuality confession with a casual “cool” when they were paired as roommates last year.  Chris is easy going enough that he and Michael are still roommates and friends a year later. And in his defense, Michael isn’t sure Chris has ever seen him hook up with a guy, and his only attempt at a relationship has been an ill advised three weeks with Katie last spring.

Michael takes a long drag before answering.  “Kind of a permanent state.”

“Just checking, cause I know a guy.”

“You know a guy?” Michael asks with a laugh. Michael isn’t sure why he’s even surprised.  Chris knows a guy for everything - a guy who will write papers for you, a guy who can get you into all the good bars, a guy with keys to all the campus buildings.  And now apparently a guy for blow jobs.

“Shut up, I’m serious.  There’s this guy who is supposed to give A+ blow jobs.  And he will blow anyone - gay, straight - he doesn’t care.  If you have a dick, he’ll suck it.”

“You try it?”  

“Nah.  I know they say a mouth is a mouth, but I figured I’d have to picture tits or something to get off and that’s cheating.”

“You can’t cheat at orgasms,” Michael protests.  “Anyway, sounds like an urban legend.  The boogeyman and the blow job fairy.”

“I am not making him up,” Chris glares at Michael and snatched the joint out of his hand.  “You know Conner, Miguel’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”  He and Chris had some seminar with Miguel last year, and Michael vaguely remembers his boyfriend.  

“Swears he was straight until this guy blew him.  I heard Miguel sent him a fruit basket after they got together.”

“Now I know you’re making this up.  No blow job is that good.”  Michael holds up his hand when Chris starts to protest.  “Prove it, call him right now.”

Chris visibly deflates.  “I don’t actually have his number or know his name.”

Michael shakes his head in mock disappointment. “You owe me apology wings for getting my hopes up.”

Chris rolls his eyes, but picks up his phone.  “Fine.”

A few weeks later, Chris runs up to Michael at a party, knocking two drinks over in his haste to reach him.  “He’s here,” he says as he grabs Michael’s arm.

“Who?” Michael asks.  He looks around, but doesn’t see anyone following Chris.

“The guy, you know,” Chris makes an obscene gesture Michael immediately recognizes.  “I told you he was real!”

“He’s not fucking Santa Claus,” Michael rolls his eyes.

Chris pauses and blinks, “I mean he might, but forget that.  I hooked you up.  In ten minutes go to the upstairs bathroom, third door on the left.” “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m the idiot who is getting you laid.”  Chris holds out his hand for a fist bump.  “You are going to owe me so much beer.”

“Whatever,” Michael shoves at Chris’s shoulder, but he just dances away and joins a game of beer pong.

Michael is sure Chris is full of shit, and he intends to forget they ever had such a stupid conversation.  But nine minutes later, he finds himself climbing the stairs and trying to ignore the way Chris cheers and winks at him as he goes by.

He sees someone leaning against the wall by the third door.  They’re looking at their phone so he can’t see their face, but he likes what he can see - long legs in tight black jeans, big hands with fingers moving quickly over the screen, dark spiked hair, small gold hoop in his ear.

“Hey,” Michael says as he approaches.  Whatever hope he had of seeming cool goes up in smoke as soon as the guy looks up.  “Alex?  Alex Manes?” he sputters.

The smirk that was on Alex’s face turns into a frown, and before Michael can react, Alex moves away from the wall and pushes Michael up against the door.  “Is this some kind of joke?” he spits out.  “You want to go back to Roswell and brag about how you got the resident queer on his knees?  Well, jokes on you, I don’t care what you or anyone else says about me.  You can’t shame me, Guerin.”

“What? No!  That’s not what, I mean I wouldn’t,” Michael trips over his words as he tries to reassure Alex.  He doesn't blame him for jumping to conclusions - Roswell hadn’t been kind to Alex.  Michael doesn’t remember Alex ever saying he was gay, but everyone talked about it like it was a fact.  The football team harassed him daily about it, making it clear that anyone who dressed like that, who had multiple piercings, must be gay.  He and Alex never had any classes together, and Michael was too busy trying to fly under the radar and get the grades he needed for a scholarship, to talk to anyone outside Max and Isobel.

“So why are you here?” Alex continues to glare at Michael.

“Umm, this is kind of embarrassing,” Michael admits.  He blushes when Alex raises one brow and waits for him to continue.  “My roommate sent me up here for, you know,” Michael gestures at his dick and winces at how ridiculous he must sound.  “I didn’t even know it was you.”

Alex takes a step back and gives Michael enough room to take a deep breath.  He very obviously looks Michael over before asking, “And know that you do know it’s me?”

It takes Michael longer than it should to realize the blow job is still on the table.  He’s not really sure what kind of response Alex is looking for.  He’s tempted to tell him he’s even hotter than he was in high school.  Michael’s pretty sure he’s added a tongue piercing to the earring and nose ring, and Michael’s discovering he really likes the eyeliner.  But doesn’t think bringing up high school is a good idea so he blurts out, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Whatever,” Alex rolls his eyes and pushes Michael aside to open the bathroom door.  “Come on,” he pulls Michael inside when Michael doesn’t react, and locks the door behind him.  “Condoms are mandatory, you can touch my hair, but not my neck.  I’d prefer you keep your mouth shut, but if you have to talk, no ordering me around.”

Michael nods, he’s not sure starting off with a lecture is very sexy, but if what Chris said is true, Alex must have a routine.  Alex crowds him against the wall and runs his index finger up Michael zipper before unbuttoning his jeans.  He leans close and whispers, “I don’t have a gag reflex so don’t worry about being polite.”

Alex’s breath is warmth against his ear and while he’s slowly working Michael’s zipper open, Michael reconsiders just how sexy a lecture can be.  Alex drops to his knees and pulls Michael’s pants down past his knees.  Michael sucks in breath when he sees Alex looking up at him, gaze steady as he slides the condom on.  “Ready?” he asks.

And if Michael liked Alex’s breath on his neck, it’s nothing compared to how it feels on his dick.  Alex hasn’t really touched him, and he’s already getting hard.  “Yeah,” he finally says once he realizes Alex is waiting for an answer.

“Good,” Alex winks before taking the head of Michael’s dick into his mouth.  

Alex closes his eyes, and Michael wishes for a second he’d kept them open before Alex does something with his tongue that leaves him gasping for air.  Michael has had his fair share of blow jobs, but nothing like this.  He can’t even say exactly what Alex does that is so special.  The tongue piercing helps, and Alex clearly knows how to use it.  

But if pressed, Michael would say it’s the way Alex seems almost devoted to what he is doing.  He keeps his eyes closed, and he seems almost as blissed out as Michael feels.  No one has ever taken their time, or savored the experience, quite like Alex does.  He starts by taking Michael deeper into his mouth inch by inch, licking and sucking as he goes.  By the time he takes Michael as deep as he can, Michael is red faced and panting and ready to come.

Then he stops moving, just holds Michael’s dick in his mouth.  Michael must whine or something because Alex pulls off and laughs.  He starts with just the head of his dick again, taking him in just as slowly, but playing with his balls this time.  When he stops again, Michael groans, “Alex, please.”

“Once more, ok,” Alex tells him.

Michael is honestly shocked he doesn’t come as soon as Alex’s lips touch his dick again, but he doesn’t. Alex goes even slower this time, lavishing attention on every inch of Michael he takes into his mouth like they have all the time in the world.  He takes Michael deeper this time, so deep Michael doesn’t even know how he can breathe.  Michael watches Alex’s face and silently begs him not to stop again.

He unclenches his fists and drops them to Alex’s hair, gently holding him in place.  Alex makes a pleased sound and swallows around Michael’s dick while pressing hard against the skin behind his balls, making Michael come harder than he thinks he’s ever come before.

Alex doesn’t back off, sucks gently at Michael’s dick until he’s done and sensitive enough to push Alex back.  Once Alex takes off the condom and walks to the sink to wash his hands, Michael slides down the wall and tries to catch his breath.

“See you round, Guerin,”  Alex walks toward the door, giving Michael a judgemental look on his way out.  “I wouldn’t sit on that floor for long if I were you.”

Michael half-heartedly flips him off.  Sure, he should have pulled his pants back up before sitting down, but he still can’t feel his legs. He’ll get up in a minute, he promises himself, just as soon as he decides who gets the bigger fruit basket - Chris or Alex.

Michael doesn’t see Alex again until an end of semester party.  He’s walking down the hall when some guy stumbles out of a bathroom right into him.  The stunned look on his face and the way he can barely string the syllables together to apologize make him wonder just how high he is.  Then he sees Alex come out of the same room, a satisfied smirk on his face, and it all makes sense.

Over the last few months, Michael had convinced himself that Alex was as hot or as skilled as he remembered.  One look at him now, and Michael knew he hadn’t been exaggerating.  Alex was gorgeous, in all black again, but this time his lips were red and shiny.  It hit Michael all at once exactly why Alex looked like that and he went from pleasantly buzzed to desperately turned on in a second.

“Guerin,” Alex nods at him.

Michael knows he should respond, but all he can do is stare at Alex’s mouth and lick his own lips.

Alex watched him before laughing and jerking his head toward the open bathroom.  “You want another go at it.”

More than anything, but Michael had assumed it was a one and done kind of thing.  He didn’t even let himself imagine it happening again.  “Is that allowed?” he finally blurts out.

“Don’t be a dumbass,” Alex rolls his eyes.  He walks into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind him.

Michael follows quickly, not wanting anyone to get between them.  He has his pants down before Alex finishes locking the door.

Alex takes in his already hard cock, and drops to his knees.  “Eager aren’t we?” he teases as he rolls the condom on.

Michael doesn’t say anything, just tangles his hand in Alex’s hair and pulls him forward.  He prepares himself for slow and thorough, but Alex surprises him by taking him deep right away.  

Alex doesn’t close his eyes this time, just looks up at Michael as he sucks his cock.  It’s fast and messy, and if Michael didn’t know Alex had just done this - just done it with someone else - he’d swear Alex was as desperate for it as he is.  Alex carefully scrapes his teeth along his dick as he slides his mouth down, then takes him deep again before pressing his piercing along the underside of his dick.

He can’t stop staring at Alex’s lips stretched around his cock, and he’s trying so hard not to move he’s barely breathing.  When Alex lets his cock slip from his mouth, Michael bangs his fist against the wall.

“I told you not to be polite,” Alex reminds him.  He grabs Michael’s ass and tugs.

And, yeah, Michael can work with that.  He waits until Alex squeezes his ass again to be sure he’s ready, and he thrusts carefully into Alex’s mouth.  Alex moans around him and urges him to go faster, harder.  Alex is still watching him, but Michael has to close his eyes.  All he can hear is the sound of his dick moving in and out of Alex’s mouth.  Alex moans again, and Michael thrusts even deeper and comes.

Pride keeps him on his feet, and he manages to get his pants back up while Alex disposes of the condom and washes his hands.    “So repeats are a thing,” Michael says, wincing as soon as the words are out of his mouth.

Alex dries his hands and looks at Michael like he’s an idiot - Michael is becoming worryingly fond of that look.  “I’m not Prince Charming working my way through campus looking for the perfect dick.  I do this when I want and with whoever I want.  You have a nice dick, and you don’t use it to try and prove you’re better than me, so,” Alex shrugs and smiles.

Michael can’t decide if he should preen over the compliment or find everyone who treated Alex like shit and punch them in the face.  He blames his conflicting desires for what he says next.  “I’m heading back to Roswell on Sunday if you need a ride or anything.”

Even sex drunk, Michael knows immediately he fucked up.  Alex goes completely still, and while he’s still smiling, every bit of emotion is gone from his face.  “The only time I will ever step foot back in the hellhole is to spit on my father’s grave.”

He’s out the door before Michael can think of a response.  

Michael tries not to think about Alex - especially his fuck up with Alex - once he’s back in Roswell.  He has a room in the Evans’ basement now, and he spends the first few weeks sleeping in and catching up with Max and Isobel.  They’d hit a rough patch just before graduation when Isobel started having migraines so bad she blacked out.  Michael had stayed close to her all summer while Max went on his road trip with Liz Ortecho then Max returned just in time for Michael to leave for college.

Just to be safe, Max and Isobel had both taken the year off after graduation.  Things were better by Christmas, and they were all on solid ground by the time Michael came home for the summer.  Max had gone on another road trip with Liz before starting online classes for Creative Writing and Literature.  Isobel decided not to go to school, but was working as a waitress at the country club.  When Michael questioned her choice, she’d ticked off her reasons matter of factly.

“The tips are phenomenal, Mom and Dad have enough clout that even the creepy members keep their hands to themselves, and I am making all the right connections.”

“For what?”  Michael asked.

“You’ll see,” Isobel had replied with a gleam in her eye that had Michael thinking he’d come back one day to find Isobel was the youngest mayor in Roswell history.

Everyone is in a more  festive mood this year, even though Isobel is pretty busy before the holidays, and Max is moping because Liz decided to spend her break in LA with Rosa instead of coming home.  Mrs. Evans bribes them with extra cookies if they’ll hang the Christmas lights,and Michael knows it, he’s opening presents and stuffing himself on the enchiladas Mr. Ortecho brings to Christmas brunch.

He sees Jesse Manes a few days after Christmas.  He’s walking through town in his uniform, and Michael realizes he’s never seen him out of uniform.  Maybe that’s why Alex hates him so much.  The military is still pretty conservative, and he can see how the whole gay thing would have been an issue for someone whose whole identity seems to be about his service.

After that, Michael can’t stop thinking about Alex.  He tries to remember if they ever talked in school, and he can’t think of one time he even said hello to Alex.  Michael wants to know why he hates Roswell, he wants to know what makes Alex laugh.  He wants to know what kind of apology he’s most likely to accept, he knows Alex isn’t the type to just let things go.  Michael remembers the way he looked at Kyle Valenti after Kyle became the world’s biggest douche - Alex can hold a grudge, especially when it’s justified.

The problem is, Alex was just as much of a loner as Michael was so there is no one to ask.  He only ever saw Alex with Liz and Maria DeLuca.  Liz is out of town, and Michael doesn’t know Maria well enough to just start asking questions about Alex.  He almost asks Isobel what she remembers about Alex, but high school is still a touchy subject for her so he resigns himself to learning nothing.

The day before he heads back to school, he’s waiting for Max at the Crashdown when Mimi DeLuca stops by his table.  Max told him that there are rumors about Mimi losing her mind.  He says the cops have picked her up a few times wandering around at night, talking nonsense.  She seems fine to Michael - still young and pretty enough to be the cool mom, and kind enough to be approachable.

“Michael,” she greets him with a smile even though they barely know each other.  “Would you do me a favor and please say hi to Alex for us.”

“Umm, sure.”  Michael can’t really tell her he doesn’t think Alex will talk to him again.  And it’s not like what they were doing involved much talking in the first place.

Mimi leans down and pats him on the arm.  “Just be patient with him.  He’s never had much kindness in his life.  I know that’s something you understand.”

Normally Miche would get defensive, but he can tell she doesn’t mean it as an insult, just a way to connect him to Alex which is what he’s been looking for.  “Thanks,” he tells her with his own smile, even though he’s not sure what she means.  Alex didn’t grow up alone with at best neglectful and too often violent foster families.  But then he pictures Jesse Manes striding through town in his uniform and wonders.

Michael doesn’t understand how he went over a year without knowing Alex was at UNM because once he’s back on campus in January, he sees Alex everywhere.  Well, not really everywhere, but he catches a glimpses of him across the quad and then he’s walking into Michael’s favorite coffee shop just a few minutes after Michael leaves.  The third time he’s working the circulation desk at the library when Michael is killing time between classes, he decides to stop pretending he doesn’t want to talk to him.

“Hey,” he says when he approaches the desk.  Alex just stares him down, waiting for Michael to say something else, and God, Michael really missed the judgemental way Alex looks at him.

Michael’s about to walk away and give Alex the win in their staring contest when he thinks of something to say.  “Is this your first year here?”

“No,” Alex says slowly, his expression shifting to confused as well as judgemental.  “I’m a sophomore just like you.  We graduated together, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just how did I never see you before?”

“Big campus,” Alex shrugs.

“Big campus,” Michael repeats.  He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels.  This whole exchange is excruciating, and if it wasn’t negative a hundred outside, he’d wait out the half hour before his next class on a bench or something.

Alex sighs and takes pity on him.  “My break is in ten minutes.  There’s a gender neutral bathroom with a lock at the end of that hallway.”

Michael looks in the direction Alex is pointing at and nods before heading back to the table he was pretending to study at.  This isn’t what he expected when he approached Alex, but he’s not about to let the opportunity pass. Ten minutes drag on, and as soon as Michael sees Alex leave the desk he gets up to follow.

Alex locks the door and walks toward Michael until he’s backed up against the wall.  He takes his time undoing Michael’s belt and unzipping his jeans.  By the time he’s done, Michael’s well on his way to hard.  And even with the latex between them, the feel of Alex’s fingers sliding the condom up his dick has him shivering.

Without the background noise of a party, everything feels more intentional and intense.  When Alex takes the head of his dick in his mouth, Michael can hear the sound he makes when he starts to suck.  “Oh,” Michael says when Alex takes him deeper.  He closes his eyes and thumps his head against the wall.  Alex is getting louder, and if Michael has to hear him and look at him, this isn’t going to last, and he wants it to.

Alex shifts higher in his knees, he stops sucking for a minute, just holds Michael in his mouth.  Then Michael hears the sound of another zipper, and he knows it’s not his, which means it must be Alex, and that means Alex is touching himself while he sucks Michael off.

Michael opens his eyes, but he can’t really see what Alex is doing.  But he can hear him, can hear the sound of Alex’s hand moving while he jerks himself off.  Alex is licking Michael’s dick again, pressing the piercing against the head the way Michael likes before sucking him down.  He moans when Michael is deep in his mouth, and Michael doesn’t know if it’s from sucking Michael off or his own hand, but it doesn’t matter because as soon as he hears it, Michael snaps his hips forward - harder than he meant to - and comes.

Alex pulls off as soon as Michael is done, and Michael would be annoyed, but he can still hear Alex’s hand moving, faster and faster, until it stops and Alean moans - deeper and louder than before.

Michael knows he must look ridiculous - face red and condom hanging off his dick.  Especially since by the time Alex stands up, his pants are done up, and he looks perfectly composed - not all like he just jerked off during his break.  Michael throws the condom away and wipes up with a paper towel while Alex washes his hands.  “I didn’t know you did that,” Michael says, gesturing toward Alex’s zipper.

Alex raises one brow at him and purses his lips like he’s trying not to laugh.  “I do, just not every time.”

“You’ve never with me before,” Michael says, not sure why he’s pushing this.

“You’ve never been my first of the night before.  Is it a problem?”

Alex’s expression starts to close off, and Michael rushes to correct him before he fucks up again.  “No, I’m just glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“That’s kind of the point, Guerin,” Alex shakes his head and walks off.

Michael waits a few minutes before heading back to his table and pretending to study.  He waves at Alex on his way out, and Aex rolls his eyes, but waves too so Michael takes it as a win.

Alex doesn’t blow him every time he sees him in the library, not even weekly, and he doesn’t jerk off every time either, but it’s still the most regular sex Michael has ever gotten.  He’s not sure if people can tell he’s getting laid or if he’s just more confident, but he’s hooked up with someone at almost every party he’s been to as well.  Even Chris notices.

“What’s going on with you, man?  You’re really crushing it with the ladies right now,” he says as they stumble their way back to the dorm after some frat party.

“I’m just that sexy,” Michael slurs with a laugh. 

“If I didn’t just see you with two different girls this week, I’d swear you had a girlfriend, or boyfriend,” he adds on.  “You weren’t even this well fucked when you dated Katie.”

“Just a run of good luck and my irresistible charm,” Michael insists.  

Chris laughs so hard he falls into a bush.  Michael helps him up and somehow they make it back to their room without any injuries.

Michael thinks about it the next time he sees Alex.  He’s had more sex with Alex than anyone he’s ever dated,and he doesn’t know anything about him, except they went to high together and Alex hates Roswell.  It makes him feel guilty, like he’s using Alex, and Michael knows he is using Alex, that Alex expects it of him, but he doesn’t like thinking of it that way.

“What’s your major,” he asks Alex the next time they hook up.

Alex just looks at Michael for a minute before finally answering.  “Computer Science and Music Theory and Composition.”

“Huh,” Michael responds.  Alex looks like a music major with the whole emo thing he had going, but Michael has a hard time picturing him sitting in front of a computer for hours.

When Michael doesn’t say anything else, Alex sighs and asks, “What about you?”

“Mechanical and environmental engineering.”

Alex narrows his eyes and studies Michael before saying anything.  “Suits you.”

He’s gone before Michael can decide if that was a compliment or not.

A week later,  Michael follows Alex out of the bathroom and catches him while he’s still in the hallway. “Do you like working here, the library I mean?”

Alex turns back and leans against the wall.  “It’s easy, quiet.  I make better money and tips at The Grind.”

“You work at the Grind?  I’m there all the time, how have I never seen you there?”  Michael’s starting to feel like the universe is conspiring to keep him away from Alex.

“I work the early shift, five to nine am.  They pay more since most college students don’t like mornings, and the first few hours are pretty dead.”

Michael makes a face at the thought of working that early.  “Yeah, the only way I’m up at five is if I haven’t gone to bed.”

“I don’t sleep much so it’s not a big deal,” Alex shrugs.  “You work on campus?”  Alex asks before Michael can follow up on the comment about not sleeping.

“No, I work at an auto shop off campus a few days a week.  Pays not bad, and I get free tune ups which my poor truck desperately needs.”

Alex laughs.  “Is that why your hands?”  Alex holds up his own hands.

Michael looks down.  He’s used to the permanent grease stains around his nails, doesn’t really think about them much anymore.  He used to be embarrassed, but Alex seems more curious than critical so he doesn’t get defensive.  “Occupational hazard.  Even if I wasn’t working there, I’m always tinkering with something.”

“Life of an engineer,” Alex laughs again.  “Well, I should get back,” Alex points back toward the desk and walks away.

Michael thinks it might be their new found rapport, but the next time Alex sucks him off, he comes so hard he thinks he might have an aneurysm.  Whatever Alex did with his tongue is superhuman, and he means to ask him about it, but what he says insead is, “Why weren’t you at graduation?”

Alex doesn’t answer, just storms out of the bathroom without checking to see if Michael is decent.

“Fuck,” Michael exhales as soon as the door closes.  He really fucked it up this time.

Alex won’t even look at him for the next two weeks, and then he’s suddenly gone - never at the library the same time as Michael.  If Alex changed his shift or even quit just to avoid Michael, he must be more upset than Michael realizes.  He thinks about showing up at The Grind to apologize, but that seems a little too much like stalking especially since he told Alex he’s never up that early.

Michael still looks for Alex around campus, and when he can’t seem to find him he sulks.  He studies more than normal, and when Chris convinces him to go out, he gets drunk and fucks around with any girl he knows is only looking for a good time no strings attached.  It’s never the same girl twice - if he learned anything from Alex it’s that he gets attached way too easily.

He sulks all the way through midterms before Chris decides it’s been long enough.  “I know it sucks to get dumped, but it can’t be this bad,” he tells Michael when he finds him hiding in his bed one afternoon.

“I wasn’t dumped.  I wasn’t even dating anyone,” Michael protests.

“Then what’s with the pouting and the half hearted hook ups?  Looks like a broken heart to me.”

“There is no broken heart,” Michael insists.  “I had a thing, ok.  Like a casual acquaintances with benefits thing for a while, but it ended.”

“Did she fall in love with you?”  Chris gasps, “No, you fell in love with her.  Michael, that really sucks.”

“No one fell in love.  I just said something stupid and pissed him off.  Story of my life.”

Chris frowns.  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.  You just need to get back out there.  Fuck another guy instead of just girls and forget about him.  Hey, I could find the blow job guy for you again.”

“No!”  Michael can’t imagine anything more embarrassing.

“Are you sure?  Dane from my physics class hooked up with him last month and said he thinks he saw Jesus when he came.  And Grant said the blow jobs he got from him this semester are the best he’s ever had.  He actually has an alert on his phone so if someone spots him at a party he gets notified and can show up.”

No, seriously, no,” Michael cuts Chris off.  

“Fine, but the swim team is having a party tomorrow, and you’re coming with me.  We’ll find some hot guy to get you out of your slump.”

“There’s no slump.  And since when do we have a swim team?”

Michael learns two things about swimmers Saturday night - they like the music loud, they are very comfortable hanging out half dressed.  Two drinks in he wanders upstairs and tries to decide if he wants to hook up or just get stone drunk.

He walks past a half open door when he hears it.  Some guy yelling, “Come on, come on, just like that.  Give it to me,” between breathy moans.  Michael moves to close the door, because  no one needs to hear that.

Michael has to come closer than he’d like to reach the door handle, and that’s when he sees him.  Alex is on his knees, some red headed kid up against the wall getting his dick sucked.  He plans to shut the door, he really does, but he’s never seen Alex like this.  Never seen just how his lips look stretched around a dick from this angle, never saw the stretch of Alex’s neck or the way he can see his tongue moving.  Alex’s face is almost expressionless, and Michael can’t tell if he’s okay, but when he looks down, he sees Alex is hard.

The guy’s getting louder, and Michael remembers what Alex said about keeping his mouth shut. He’s not ordering Alex around exactly, but his tone is more demanding than begging and it’s starting to piss Michael off. Michael takes another step forward when he hears Alex make a noise.  He moans and shifts a little and that’s when Michael remembers he’s hard, Alex is hard, but he’s not touching himself because he’s using both arms to hold this douche bag still.  

Michael closes the door behind him and comes up behind Alex.  He drops to his knees,and places his hand on Alex’s shoulder.  Alex freezes.  “It’s me, Guerin,” Michael whispers.  Alex doesn’t respond but he relaxes.  

Michael drops his other hand to Alex’s hip then slides it around to rest at the top of his jeans.  He wants to touch, he’s already hard just thinking about it, but he needs Alex’s permission. “Can I,” he asks.  “Is it ok if I touch you.”

Alex moans and his hips jerk against Michael’s hand, and he takes that as a yes.  It takes both his hands and a bit of fumbling for him to get Alex’s pants undone from this angle.  Once he gets them down, he can’t wait to get Alex’s dick in his hands.  He’s hot and hard and slick already and feels perfect in Michael’s hand.

“Thank you,” he whispers against Alex’s ear.  He wants to take his time, wants to get Alex close a few times before he lets him come.  But he can tell the idiot Alex is sucking off is getting close, and he wants Alex to finish first.  Doesn’t want anyone else to see him like this.

He tightens his hand around Alex’s dick and let’s him thrust into it.  Michael uses his other hand to cup Alex’s balls, he wants to take them in his mouth and suck on them but this will have to do for now.  He strokes the skin behind them, making Alex moan again.  When he feels Alex’s hips stutter, he loosens his grip and toys with the crown until he comes.

Michael manages to get Alex’s pants back up and mostly fastened even though he’s distracted by watching the way Alex’s cheeks hollow as he finishes the guy off.  Michael’s breathing almost as heavily as he is, and he wants so badly to grind into Alex from behind, but he knows he’ll come in his pants if he does so he keeps a small distance between them.

The asshole shouts when he comes, and brings his knee up, almost catching Alex in the face.  He glares when he spots Michael.  “Wait your turn like everyone else,” he complains. 

“Maybe learn to shut a door,” Michael chastises him.

“Whatever,” he rolls his eyes at Michael.  “If watching me get off is what gets you all hot and bothered, you can blow me later.”

“Dick,” Michael grumbles as he leaves.  At least this time he remembered to shut the door..

He hears Alex laugh, feels him move away.  When he looks back over, Alex has turned to sit leaning against the wall.  He’s flushed and beautiful, and Michael wants him.  “Can I kiss you?” he blurts out.  “Do you do that?”

Alex rolls his eyes.  “This isn’t Pretty Woman, Guerin.  Come here.”

He holds out his hand, and Michael takes it, letting Alex pull him closer.  He means to sit next to him, but somehow he ends up in Alex’s lap.  Michael’s careful, tentative - first kisses are always awkward.  But Alex threads his fingers through the curls on the back of Michael’s head and tugs him forward.  He kisses like he sucks cock, intent and focused.  When he drags his tongue piercing along the roof of Michael’s mouth, Michael moans and thrusts his hips against Alex.

Alex taps his leg, “Stand up and I’ll take care of that for you.”

“No,” Michael says forcefully enough that Alex leans back and raises his brows.  “Just your hand,” he clarifies.  “That’s enough.”

“Ok,”Alex shrugs.  He pulls a small bottle of lube out of his front pocket while Michael shimmys his pants down to his knees.  

He ends up kneeling next to Alex, and the angle is a little awkward, but he can keep kissing Alex so he doesn’t care.  The first touch of Alex’s hand is cool and slick, and it takes some of the urgency away. Alex strokes him gently at first - fingers exploring, teasing.  He kisses Michael the same way- tongue dancing in and out of his mouth.  Michael whines, reaches for his dick with his own hand, but Alex pushes it away.

Thankfully, Alex takes the hint.  He tightens his grip and strokes Michael firmly,  He deepens the kiss, sucking on Michael’s tongue as Michael thrusts into his first.  Michael moves higher up on his knees, chasing every bit of contact he can get.  It all feels so good, then Alex bites at his lower lip and Michael comes with a gasp.

Alex wipes his hands on the carpet and makes a face.  “This is why I prefer bathrooms.  I could really use a sink right now.”

Michael looks around and realizes for the first time that they are in some kind of office or study room.  He sits down next to Alex and tries to catch his breath.  “You don’t have any hand sanitizer in your pocket?” He jokes.  “You have everything else you need.”

Instead of laughing, Alex looks like he’s considering the idea.  “I might have to start doing that.”

He starts to get up, but Michael stops him with a hand on his arm.  “Hey, I’m sorry about before.  It was none of my business.”

“It’s fine,” Alex brushes him off, but doesn’t get up.  “I just don’t like talking about”

“Anything personal,” Michael fills in when Alex seems lost for words.

“Pretty much,” Alex agrees with a smile.

“Still, I”m sorry, and I hope you can get your shift back.”

“What?”  Alex blinks at him, clearly confused.

“At the library.  You don’t have to avoid me,”  Michael feels really bad about that.

“You think I quit the library to avoid you?”  Alex laughs.  “I’m not fragile, Jesus.  Most of their budget is for work study and since I don’t qualify, they can only give me so many hours.  They just ran out of funding for the year.”

“That sucks.”

“Nothing I can do about it. I picked up another tutoring job, and they’ll bring me back for the summer.”

Michael has a lot of questions, but he settles on one he hopes is safe.  “You stay here over the summer?”

“No where else to go,” Alex shrugs.  He keeps talking before Michael can apologize again.  “It’s not bad.  Between the library and the coffee shop, I can work a ton of hours, and if I have enough saved I can take a few online summer classes.”

There’s a commotion outside the door - sounds like someone started some kind of drunken relay race.  Alex makes a face and stands up. “I’ve had enough of people for one day.  See you around, Guerin.”

He’s out the door before Michael can do more than wave in acknowledgment.

Michael doesn’t see Alex around, not for weeks, even though he’s looking.  He still can’t bring himself to show up at The Grind when he knows Alex is working even though he wants to.  Would Alex kiss him again, would he let Michael touch him?  It feels like something changed between them, and Alex vanishes just when Michael wants to see what it means.

The weekend before finals, Chris insists they need to go to Francesco’s for dollar beer night.  Despite the name, Francesco’s is a typical college dive bar - no one looks too hard at IDs and in return no one complains about the watered down beer.

Michael can hear the music before they even get to the door, and he remembers seeing some flyers around campus about a band night.  “If the music sucks, I’m out,” he tells Chris.

“Don’t be a snob.  No one comes here for the music.”

Chris pulls him through the door, and Michael comes to a complete stop when he sees the stage.  Alex is up there -  singing.  He’s added a black leather jacket to his normal black jeans and Tshirt.  His hair is spiked to razor points, eyeliner perfectly defined and his lips are red and shining like he just got done sucking cock.  Michael can’t breathe.

He lets Chris drag him to the bar.  But as soon as he has a beer, he’s pushing his way toward the stage, not checking or caring to see if Chris follows.  Most people are crowded around the bar, staying within easy access to cheap beer, so he finds an open table just to the right of the stage.

Michael sits down and doesn’t bother to pretend he’s doing anything other than staring at Alex.  Up close he can see the studded collar he has around his neck, the silver bracelets slipping down past the cuff of jacket, and the black polish on his nails.  

It’s hot outside, even for May, and inside the bar it’s worse.  Michael finishes his beer quickly, he’d get another but that would mean getting up and looking away from Alex.  Instead he unbuttons the top half of the buttons on his shirt, pulls the fabric from his chest to get some air circulation.  Alex keeps singing, doesn’t acknowledge Michael in any way, but Michael knows he’s watching.  It makes him want to show off, keep Alex’s attention, so when he lets his shirt settle, he makes sure it falls to the side so one of his nipples is showing.  Michael can see the amusement and desire in Alex’s eyes.

Alex’s band is good - they stick to well known emo cover songs.  But Alex’s voice is the real star.  It’s deep and sexy and, like everything else about Alex, goes straight to Michael’s dick.  He’s so hard it’s all he can do not to touch himself right there. Michael knows he would do it too if he thought Alex could see.  

Michael’s both relieved and disappointed when Alex announces their last song.  On one hand he could watch Alex sing forever, but if Alex gets off the stage, Michael might be able to do more than watch.  He can see the next band waiting on the other side of the stage as they launch into American Idiot.  Alex is mesmerizing.  Even the noise of the bar quiets some as more people stop to watch and listen.

Alex turns so he’s looking directly at Michael as he sings.  When he gets to the line “Well, maybe I’m the faggot, America,” a chorus of cheers goes up across the bar.   He winks at Michael and raises his middle finger toward the audience, smiling when some people respond in kind.

Michael can’t take any more of this. He's waiting at the edge of the stage before the song is even over.  As soon as Alex gets off the stage, Michael grabs him by the arm and pulls him into the handicapped bathroom, quickly locking the door behind them.

“I’m going to kiss you right now, ok?”  He barely gives Alex time to nod before his mouth is on his.  Michael isn’t interested in gentle or finesse, he shoves his tongues into Alex’s mouth, rubs it around his piercing.  He can't’ help thrusting against Alex, groaning when he feels Alex is hard too.

“That turn you on,” he pants, pulling his mouth away with effort.  “Singing in front of all those people make you hard?”

“You make me hard,” Alex tells him.  He slips his hand into Michael’s open shirt, rolling his nipple between his fingers, making Michael gasp.  “Showing off, staring at me like you wanted to jump me right there on the stage.”

“I did, I would have if I didn’t think someone would stop us,” Michael confesses.  He takes a breath and decides to go for it, ask Alex for what he wants.  “Can I fuck you?  Please.”

Alex’s eyes widen, but he nods and pulls a condom and lube out of his pocket and hands it to Michael.

“Always prepared,” Michael laughs.  He sets them on the edge of the sink then freezes when he sees Alex shoving his pants down.  He braces himself against the wall, ass out toward Michael.  “God,’ he breathes.  Michael reaches out and strokes the smooth, firm skin of Alex’s ass.  He’s magnificent.  He squeezes, kneads the muscles under his hand.

Alex moans, and Michael wishes he could take his time.  He wants to touch and look,  to lick and bite before he fucks him.  But they’re in a public restroom on borrowed time.  He gets his own pants down past his knees and puts the condom on.  Once his fingers are coated with lube, he slips them between Alex’s cheeks.  Michael spreads the lube up and down the crease of Alex’s ass, getting more lube when Alex presses back against his hand.

They both groan when he pushes his first finger into Alex.  It’s been awhile since he’s done this to someone else, and he’s not sure how slow he needs to go.  Alex isn’t fighting him though, he’s moving with Michael, and Michael adds a second finger.

“Like that,” Alex encourages him.  “Deeper.”

Michael fucks Alex with his fingers, twisting and spreading them to open Alex up faster.  He rests his head against Alex’s back, the scent of leather from his jacket surrounding him.  He wants his mouth on Alex, but he remembers what Alex said about not touching his neck so instead he brings two fingers from his other hand to Alex’s mouth.

He presses his fingers to Alex's lips, moaning when Alex sucks them into his mouth.  “Your fucking mouth,” he moans.  “Your lips were so red and full, like you’d been sucking cock for hours.  Is that what you did?  Did you blow the band before you took the stage.”

Alex laughs and lets Michael fingers slip from his mouth.  “Lip plumping gloss.  But I like the way your mind works.”

“If we had more time, I’d ask you to suck me off after I fucked you,” Michael tells him just as he adds a third finger.  

“Next time,” Alex promises as he pushes back into Michael’s hand.  “Now get on with it and fuck me.”

Michael pulls his fingers out and hastily spreads some lube over the condom.  He holds Alex’s hips still and pushes in as slow as he can.  Alex is hot and tight and perfect around him.  He wants to stay there forever.

“Move,” Alex demands.

Michael can hear Alex jerking himself off and he can’t hold back anymore.  They move together, Michael fucking him hard and fast, trying to match the pace of Alex’s hand on his own dick.  He comes a minute before Alex, feels Alex clench down on him when his own orgasm hits.

They wash their hands together in the sink,and Alex kisses him one more time before leaving.  A quick, almost chaste kiss.  “Have a nice summer, Michael,” he adds as he leaves.

Michael doesn’t see him when he makes his way back to the bar.  He lets Chris buy him a few more beers before they head out and hit up another party.  Alex isn’t there either so Michael lets the crowd and the drinks distract him from the thought of a long summer without seeing Alex again.

[cutest-bunny-writings]

The Missing Paper Clause; Chapter 4: Feminine Attachment Hypothesis

Warnings: referring to people as specimens, forced wake up from a comatose state, discussion and suspicions of kidnapping, panic, mentions of PTSD, amnesia, thoughts of the development of emotional attachment through gender bias/preference, some swearing

The Missing Paper Clause Chapter Index

You watch carefully as the newest specimen is roused from his comatose state, he doesn’t seem too thrilled about it, but that’s to be expected in a case like this.

Since they won’t tell you where they got this one, you think it’s safe to assume that he has likely been stolen from a medical facility, likely far away from the compound. Which means transportation could’ve been anything from submarine travel to flight. It’s unlikely he would’ve been in the truck the whole time because that would risk the possibility of them being followed and you noticed the truck didn’t have a super great temperature control for the back.

You notice the wild expression on the guy’s face when he sits up frantically to look around. You try to remain passive in the moment to not accidentally alert anyone to your suspicions of where they might’ve gotten this guy.

You continue to watch as Jimin uses his gentle touch to get the guy to lay back down, so he can start hooking him up to all the machinery and check the vitals.

The heart rate reads as what can only be described as the result of extreme stress only seen in kidnapping victims and people with very severe PTSD. You’ll have to investigate later.

You watch as Jimin goes over to his little station in the room and scribbles something onto a paper before stuffing it in his pocket.

The screening process takes a rather decent amount of time because physical and psychological tests need to be administered, everything needs to be written down. And you’ll be damned if you don’t ever get your hands on the notes from this screening process.

You didn’t mean to do it when you saw the guy turn his head towards the glass, which the specimens can see through, but you made eye contact with him and he seemed to calm down a lot.

I’m the only woman here. Perhaps, he has stronger emotional attachments to those of the female gender or female presenting, likely a result of strong attachment to a mother figure in his life. He seemed to have calmed down a bit when he saw Minnie’s face too, and he has relatively feminine features. I wonder how he will react to Yoongi or Taehyung.

Yoongi is another resident nurse but he has a slightly higher status and thus higher access in certain areas. He’s kind of like Jimin with slightly feminine features and a pleasant face, but he has a little bit of a resting bitch face (and you’ve told him that).

Taehyung is like the absolute one-eighty compared to Jimin and Yoongi. He’s masculine and has that scary ‘I’m gonna whoop your ass if you step out of line face.’ If he and this guy meet, you figure having someone he recognizes in the room with him will at least help him calm down a little. Taehyung’s also scarier because he’s probably the creepiest surgeon you’ve ever met.

The guy doesn’t want to look away once he’s seen you and it gets you wondering if he’s in the process of developing an emotional attachment to you, which he likely is.

You’ve noticed he keeps asking things like “what happened?” and “where am I?” which is a pretty good indicator that he doesn’t know anything else. Which makes it very likely that he doesn’t know simple things like his name and his age or the deeper things like his emotional attachment to femininity.

Previous : Next

[ladyhindsight]

It tells a lot about this book when I am only in the third chapter and I’m already thinking when will this end.

Simon goes back to Jordan’s and Maia is there. Stuff is awkward.

How does he know the T-shirt is long-sleeved if Maia is wearing a jacket?

Really lovely that the first impression is Maia and Jordan starting to see each other again when Maia clearly was not over her trauma over Jordan in CoFA.

Cut to Clary in the New York Institute about to steal the faerie rings for the Seelie Queen.

→ The first time Jace had taken her...

Why is Tessa’s pendant in New York? For any plausible reason than having yet another TID reference.

Way too long interruption.

→ The case was locked, of course. Clary, biting her lip, drew and Opening rune, careful not to make it too powerful lest the glass case burst apart and bring people running. It unsnapped the lock.

→ Why would anyone come running? When the PoV changes to Clary, the very first thing written is: “The rattling gold elevator stopped at the third floor of the Institute; Clary took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway. The place was, as Alec and Isabelle had promised her it would be, deserted and quiet.“

Then dun, dun, duuun. Jace and Sebastian appear to steal some books from the library and Clary hides.

→ The ice in Clary’s veins crystallized

→ Nothing ever seems to compare to the feelings Clary has relating to Jace.

Useless adverb when it is later written than Clary’s lip is bleeding, showing that she bit her lip really hard.

→ ...a spotlight on a stage. The chips of glass and marble and bits of....

→ It is truly shocking how Sebastian and Jace appeared unexpectedly and out of nowhere to the library but not shocking enough to not make a note how much better Sebastian looks with his natural hair color.

→ This is the third time the comparison to Snow White is made. The first two were in City of Fallen Angels made by both Clary and Simon separately.

I understand that this is a stylistic choice but at the same time, get to the goddamn point without all these detours.

→ but nothing visible showed that it has ever been missing. (Sebastian’s severed hand that is)

I am fairly certain there is at least one occasion in every TMI installment where Jace is wearing something white and his Marks are visible through the shirt, and Clary always ogles at him.

→ Clary’s heart began to pound PERIOD. The context shows us it is because of she’s afraid.

→ Sebastian was murder, blood, pain, and terror. Jace had fought him and won once but had nearly died... (Get those metaphors in)

Not once has Jace initiated this kind of casual physical contact with Alec. This is manipulation of the previous narrative in order to redefine their poorly depicted relationship.

Same point as above. Also, Jace doesn’t have friends. He has family and Clary.

→ She tasted the blood in her mouth.

→ She should get up, move, runaway.

→ What do you mean she wasn’t supposed to be there?? Clary isn’t banned from the Institute nor is the library restricted from entering? They have casually been in the library before. What is this nonsense.

We cut to Alec at Magnus’ place. Alec is picking up yet another fight with Magnus, and I am done.

This is just bogus. The issue began with Alec not knowing anything about Magnus’ past. It was a frustration that build up gradually and generated distrust and feelings of triviality. Everyone wants to be someone’s first choice, and Magnus was unable to give Alec the sense of safety as to their relationship by withholding his past relationships (all kinds) and past in general.

If they recognize this as an issue, they are doing absolutely nothing to deal with it. Magnus is written wanting things to go his way, without having to truly commit to Alec by revealing all the parts of himself while Alec is expected to be content with the status quo and not deal with issues that eventually need to be dealt with. Alec’s own insecurity as to this helps nothing and makes things worse, but neither are doing nothing to solve it.

A lot of reviews on this book are happy that Magnus dumps Alec in the end because Alec is a moron in this installment, which is true, but at the same time all the responsibility as to their relationship and its troubles are pushed on Alec to mend and be better for being the absolute moron. Which isn’t how this works, and as the actual adult and the more experienced one Magnus should know if Clare knew how to write sensibly anything regarding this relationship.

All of this just underlines how terrible the basis for this relationship is, and how either of them behave doesn’t really make me wish for them to overcome these issues. Of course, as they eventually do, it’s disingenuous, dishonest, and unearned.

We cut to Maia and Jordan.

→ No. Maia owes Jordan nothing.

→ Pray tell why Maia or Jordan or any werewolf gives a fuck about Jace Herondale being gone? This is strictly Nephilim business, anything that would affect the Downworld as well has not happened. Why is Jace being gone having any effect on Maia or Jordan? They are not friends and barely know each other.

→ Why are they looking for Jace on their own accord? Why do they care so much about him?

“#¤%&/(!

Cut to Simon meeting up with Isabelle, Alec, and Clary.

Again, get to the point without all this detouring.

→ and broke off as the phone in his pocket buzzed.

Akin to “it was too late” and “she never got to finish her sentence”, stop telling when you are actively showing what is happening.

→ Scrap that whole sentence.

[the-letter-horror-lover]

The Shinobi Rules

Silirt

Chapter 44: Obstacles and Setbacks

Chapter Text

“I don’t know how to respond to that,” he lied after a few different options ran through his head. If they really had a tradition of keeping it under lock and key, he doubted that they would have just forgotten. Simultaneously, he would have known that he was looking for a locked case if they had mentioned anything about it. I should have just refused her help and looked around myself. She’ll catch me in a lie if I’m not careful.

Reminding himself that when he was in the academy, really even when he was a Genin, most of the students did not know the names of all the elders, and that he was somewhat rare in that regard, he followed the young kunoichi to the class case on the third floor, taking the stairs with unbearable anticipation. It was only a slight mercy that she probably did not expect to know who he was, though. When she asked him about the key again, because she was sure he had to have a key, he said that it was possible that whoever wrote the message for him did not know one was required.

“I’m starting to get suspicious of this message you received, sir,” the girl said. “If someone wants a restricted book, he or she should know that you would need a key to retrieve it. Someone might be forging a signature to get you to do their dirty work.”

“I don’t intend to let the book out of my sight, dear,” he said as they reached the third floor. “My duties are to the Daimyo, not to the Mizukage, so if one requests a book from the other, I know how my loyalties are meant to work.”

“I see. It is not meet for a man to serve masters two, nay, not able is he,” she said. An instant later than he would have liked, he realized she was quoting some kind of proverb. They should also be teaching the Shinobi Rules in their academy, so a request from the leader of their village or someone in his office would have to be treated seriously.

“I’m glad you know your doctrine,” he commented as they reached the glass case, built into one of the bookshelves. It was quite possibly the worst bit of hard luck he had in the last few hours. Settling on an idea, he looked around for a related book, voicing his theory. “I feel I might learn something about the requested book if I read something similar,” he said. “It’s a longstanding scholarly tradition for authors to reference other works.”

“Oh, I get it,” the kunoichi said. “I’ve read books with entire pages copied from other books. Do you know what you’re looking for?”

“I’m not authorized to say, but I’ve become somewhat uncertain about the note requesting the book in the first place.” He sighed. “I know virtually nothing about the content of the book.”

“Neither do I.”

“Well, have you thought about why there is only one copy?”

“It’s to control the information, most likely,” she said. “If there were more than one, one could be lost and end up in the hands of our enemies. I can only assume that as with Fuinjutsu, the only reason advanced techniques are even written in books rather than being passed down from parent to child is because they’re too complicated to be explained in a lecture, and careful study is required for any understanding.”

“Well, what if the reason is because it’s dangerous and experimental?” he asked. “What if we would prefer that the information ends up with an enemy, than with one of our own children? To me, that would make this a different matter. If I gain a better idea of the content of the book, then I can determine why it’s being requested. I know better than to be tricked by a sense of urgency.”

“That’s clever, sir. I had not thought of it that way.”

“Well, you’re still learning,” he said. “When I was your age, I sometimes thought I knew most everything I needed to know, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She started to go downstairs, leaving him to his boring journey through the references and allowing herself to get back to her research, when the main door to the library came open. Obito sent up a silent prayer of thanks that on the third level, he was not in direct view. Looking out briefly, he saw a man with a massive sword on his back addressing the young ninja.

“The fuinjutsu protecting the palace has been tampered with. Procedure dictates that we capture the first suspicious character. This room contains knowledge of incalculable value.” There’s that word again.

“Excuse me,” one of the young shinobi said. “When did someone tamper with it?”

“Only a matter of thirty minutes ago. There was a rock thrown through a window on an upper floor, but we figured that was a false distraction.” A false dist- aren’t all distractions false? “Someone most likely invaded one of the first two floors.”

“The first floor is where the courthouse is,” the girl obviated. “The intruder could be trying to kill someone in authority or free a prisoner.”

“That’s correct. Simultaneously, we can’t rule out the second floor.”

Hiding behind a bookshelf while the swordsman looked around, starting with the ground floor, Obito figured out most of what had happened. The old man, Hokka, deduced that Garen was going here. It must be that the seven were supposed to be having a meeting here. He must have figured I was some other guy up to no good, and so he messed around with the outer symbols right before I would’ve gone in- the point was to create an opening, and get me to take the fall for it.

“There’s an official on the third floor,” someone said from below. “You can ask him if he saw anything.” They’re trying to get out of being distracted- but then, an old man in a robe who’s a regular around here would know more about what counts as suspicious.

Without saying anything, the swordsman took the suggestion, his heavy footfalls giving away his position. Damn. There’s no way I can leave the smashed case here with a book missing. I can’t pick up the case, though. I’ll just have to stall him as long as I can with a clone.

Using the bunshin, he sent the duplicate old man to sit at a table with a bunch of open books. A shinobi swordsman won’t take long before realizing that’s a distraction, but he might think that the distraction is supposed to keep him on the third floor. Getting out a pair of needles, he picked the lock and stole the book in record time before the enemy reached his position.

Now the trick is to escape with it. He shouldn’t see anything immediately suspicious, but I can’t go out the way I went in, not with the kids thinking I’m sitting up there on some long, boring task. Waiting for the swordsman to pass by, he caught a better look at the man’s general appearance before silently copying it himself, emerging from the bookcases and going down to the second floor. I could try running for it, but those kids might actually catch me. Also, I don’t know the procedure for the fuinjutsu breaches. They might have some giant wall that comes up. I need a quiet exit.

A loud entry with a loud exit was an unfortunate, but sometimes necessary operation on missions handed out in Konoha. The preference, by all accounts, was a quiet entrance and a quiet exit. That, however, was an ideal, and frequently something that could not have been predicted forced a change of plans to quiet entry, loud exit. What was considered impossible was a quiet exit after a loud entry.

Damn. He was hidden as well as he could be hidden on the second floor without burning any more chakra. Damn. Already he could hear the marching feet come down. Must have realized it was just a clone. Thing is, I still don’t know how he responds. With seven swordsmen in the building, they probably divided up the most likely targets between themselves. This guy’s job was to check the library, and he’s going to check it thoroughly.

“Check the first floor, that’s an order from a Jonin!” he shouted as soon as he reached the second. Must’ve decided he was being tricked into being on the third floor entirely rather than a specific part of it. That’s the thing about tricks; you can never tell exactly how people are going to respond to it.

He knew he could avoid the swordsman by staying mobile, but the enemy had to be aware of that; the enemy had to be aware that just searching by himself row by row was a plan that was full of holes. He’s not a sensor type, or he’d have found me already, but he’s got to have some other plan. Silently using the clone jutsu, figuring that the swordsman would do the same, he had one get spotted while he moved around the other way, getting out ahead of the enemy’s trick to flush him out. As the swordsman moved in the direction of his oppositely moving clone, he went down the stairs, still wearing the enemy’s appearance. The kids expect him to search the second floor for at least a few minutes. Come to think of it, it doesn’t really matter how they would have responded to the trick of the third floor, because as long as they were searching the first and second, I would be trapped up there, so it could be that he saw the official clone and was not tricked into any course of action.

Surfacing on the first floor only once he was certain it was deniable, he wore an angry expression. One of the kids ran up to him and he held a finger up to his mouth. Let’s hope this works.

“We’re dealing with someone good, probably at least Chunin level,” he growled. “He might still be in here, but I have to meet with the new swordsman. Keep an eye out and raise an alarm if you see anything suspicious; that’s an order.”

The young kunoichi nodded and he left without another word, sure to storm out of the library and then turn sharply at the next window where no one was watching him. Creating a bunshin of the old shinobi, Hokka, he threw a shuriken through the window, breaking it right as the clone arrived at it, then followed the clone out, chasing it at full speed. It was harder to run than it was to perform a series of fast jumps, because he had to channel his chakra substantially more quickly, but they still learned it in the academy and practiced it as Genin because they were certain the Suna ninjas were doing just that.

Sprinting after the clone, he felt his eyes go red. Damn. They must be using a genjutsu to lock down the place. It was fortunate, obviously, that they did not have a solid barrier he could not escape whatsoever, but the fact that they were using an illusion meant that he would have to get out with his eyes closed. Running after the clone, he shouted orders on the way down and once he was among the guards not to follow him; the target was his to pursue.

Though a handful of them followed him for a few paces, he outran them quickly and sprinted down a nearby street before making the clone disappear and trying to catch a breath. Where do I go now? I can’t get back to Gatou Company’s ship before Garen gets done with… whatever he was doing. Tired, he dispelled his own transformation jutsu and went into a nearby temple.

He might have been an odd sight, with his black cloak and mask of the same color, but no one seemed to pay him any attention. Everyone in the room was sitting on the floor, in a rectangle, though there seemed to be no indicator telling them how they should. A nice-looking family motioned for him to join them and he did without a second thought. The priest in front was wrapping up a lesson about how they should not only know the truth, but act on it.

“What’s with the mask, kiddo?” the father asked after the speech was over. It seemed like some people were praying, but he guessed that was optional. “Are you just ugly or something?”

“Dear,” the mother warned.

“Haha, no, I just… well, I can’t really say what it is,” he said. “I admit I’ve never been to a temple before.”

“Oh, not even when you were under the water?”

“Uh, that sounds like something that’s never happened to me,” he said. “I’m… not from around here.”

“Are you from one of the outlying islands?”

His study of geography seemed to remind him that Kiri had a large island and was surrounded by ten smaller islands. Something I didn’t know going in was how familiar they would all be with each other. I didn’t know if they’d be able to recognize people from the outlying islands.

“Were you in the navy?” he asked, changing the subject somewhat. “You look like you’ve done some service here and there.”

“Oh, the navy is mostly shinobi at this point. The whole time I served, I loaded rockets and plugged leaks, or that’s what most people would call it. I’m much happier now.”

“Yeah, I would think so,” he said.

When they were out of the temple, the sky was getting dark. The family offered him the chance to eat with them and he took it, figuring that Garen would be doing the same thing, wherever he was. Following the nice family to their home, he learned more about them, and they learned about a fictitious person known as Tobi.

“When do you have to get going?” the mother asked after supper.

“Uh, now, actually,” he said. The ship arrives at dawn, and leaves at dusk. It can’t afford to do either a minute early or a minute late.

“We’ll see you, then,” one of the kids said. She was a few years older and working on a certification. “Good luck with your mission.”

He felt guilty as he ran out on them. It was not as if he thought that their commitment to Ninshuu, or their version of it, made them spectacular people, but they demonstrated that well enough by themselves. Could I really learn something from them? What if they’re right? What if they had a good reason for destroying Uzushiogakure?

He reached the ship quickly and quietly, running out of chakra, but that was fine. It was already dark and there were people on board who had been sleeping since before the sun had started to descend, but he guessed he could get over the fact that they brought alcohol, and apparently nothing else. Having already eaten, it would be easier for him to sleep on the way back to Namti.

His partners of opportunity, however, did not return.

The helmsman of the ship went straight to him.

“You’re supposed to be their prisoner,” he accused. “Why did you come back?” They must have seen me walking off with the other two rather than helping unload the ship.

“They took me to the court, but the court released me,” he said. “They couldn’t identify me as Uni, even without the mask. I don’t know where Garen and Hokka are, but they might have had something to do with the security breach.” He briefly explained what he had witnessed from the perspective of someone who had been sitting in a courtroom the entire time.

“You said you saw one of the other swordsmen?”

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. They seemed to imply that there was one guarding the courthouse. If someone does counter me, then I can at least say it was a shinobi carrying a sword for some reason. “I don’t know which one he was. I don’t really know much about them.”

“Did he imply that they had six or seven?” the helmsman asked.

“I think he implied that he knew of six others,” Tobi said, still trying to sleep. “I think Garen is going to be fine. If not, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“The boss isn’t going to let us leave until we have that damnable blade with us.” He looked around and then back to the masked ninja. “Well, you were his prisoner and he was looking out for you. I order you and someone else to watch out for him.”

“Okay, sure,” he said, without a reason to let him know that he was exhausted. “I can look out the portside window and-“

“That window faces the sea,” the helmsman said, sighing. “You may be confident that your little friend will return, but I’m not. I’ve seen scores of better men carrying that blade and one by one, they were all killed.”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem,” he said, looking out the window. It really did look out to the sea. “Look, if you want me to keep an eye out, I can, but I’m pretty sure he’ll be fine. No one has any reason to get rid of him. When can the ship leave?”

“If we don’t have him and the blade before sundown, then we’ll have the next morning.”

“Fine,” Tobi said after a moment. “Let’s go to sleep and hope he shows up in the middle of the night.” The helmsman seemed to accept his decision.

Sleep, however, would not come easily, even as tired as he was. There was something unsettling about sleeping even on a large ship as opposed to the small boat that they had used to get back from the land of snow. Moored out of the current, the ship only moved when something on it moved, but that was more frequent than he really would have liked. Eventually, he must have learned to move with it, because he woke with vague memories of a dream.

“There’s a situation,” the helmsman said, getting him up. “We’ve discovered that Garen is being held captive.”

“Why should I care?” he asked. He could fake frustration, but in this context it was hardly necessary. With the book in hand, he was nearly done with the mission; he only needed to return in one piece. Shingo and Hazuki were depending on him. “He was the one who dragged me here. I wasn’t even that runaway in the first place.”

“I’m willing to bet they would have taken you dead. Garen showed mercy,” the helmsman said. “Get our sword back, shinobi. We’re under orders to make the trip worthwhile.”

“Fine,” he muttered. I need another exit strategy. I can’t assume I’ll be able to get the sword or the guy holding it, and the book is what I was actually sent out here to get. If I did everything that pulled on my heartstrings every time they sent me on a mission, I’d never get back.

Given what he knew about how they secured the palace in an emergency, he could reasonably guess that the island itself was protected by a powerful genjutsu, though he had not even heard of anything on the level of what was protecting Taki. Is it easier to get out than in, though? No, the ship was waiting for dawn. Dawn’s come and passed, though, so even if I get this idiot back, I’d have to time it for dusk at the earliest.

The obvious thing to do was to get on another ship if the extraction failed. He was already looking around in the harbor for anything that might get him far enough from the shore to where he could run across the water for the rest of the way. Where would I put the book, though, if I had to float on my back to recover my chakra? There’s supposed to be an arm of our continent that extends pretty far in this direction, but we were never authorized to go there. We were never told what was there. It’d be smarter to try to get to the Cha islands, but for all I know, I’m a wanted man over there.

Going into the port city, which seemed to reach the sky with its buildings, he silently figured he could sneak onto a naval ship during an exercise and that might take him far enough. I still have no idea what Garen did to get himself caught, though. It could be something that’s worth more than the sword to get him out.

Following the rumors in the crowds of people he seemed to divide with his air of mystery, he found that the shinobi in the capital city guarded a jail for those awaiting trial. That’s probably the only place that could hold him, especially if he’s still got the sword. Finding it, he found that the cells were in a long row, giving each inmate a window to the outside. Secure, and yet it has the component of public shaming. Clever.

“Tobi?” he asked as he saw the masked ninja approach the bars. He coughed before speaking again. “What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know what happened with you. I woke up only about twenty minutes ago. Gatou wants you back.”

“He’ll probably be happy with the sword,” the teenager muttered. “Unfortunately for him, that’s under lock and key. I’m supposed to be tried by combat in a matter of hours.” He coughed again.

“Are you allowed to see a medical ninja?” he asked. “You’re clearly not in the best shape of your life.”

“What's he going to do?” he asked, coughing again. “I’ve been to medical ninjas before, and it just put me deeper in debt. They don’t know how to fix anything that kills you over a long period of time.”

“Don’t I know it,” he muttered. “What did you do, anyway?”

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Daimyo’s been killed.”

Tobi needed no further explanation. He was instantly flooded with sympathy, remembering all to easily that he had been set up by Hokka. That old man might have set me up, but they wound up with no one to arrest but Garen. There was an intruder somewhere in the building, and they didn’t fall for my trick, so they grabbed the new guy.

“What motive do you have?”

“That’s what they can’t figure out. I swore I was a regular guy from Nami, I recited a few lines from the Mind of Water doctrine- I’m not exactly a patriot, but I’ve got no reason to kill an allied lord. That’s why they’re sending me to die against one of the other swordsmen.”

“Well, if you ever needed a chance to prove you were one of them, this is it,” he muttered. “That’s probably the last thing they want, though.”

“Yeah, sure. Are you looking for my last rites in that book?” We still need to find a medic type. I was never that good at Iryo-ninjutsu, but I can find the appropriate page.

“No.” He closed the book and started to look around. “Considering that you may be on death’s door, would you agree to an experimental medical procedure?”

The Shinobi Rules

Silirt

Chapter 45: Quick Decisions

Chapter Text

It was the middle of the day when the trial by combat took place, as scheduled. Obito was waiting with the medical ninja, who was wearing a different sort of black cloak, and just from a few basic things he noticed about her, probably had no combat training. It was a legitimate question whether she was a shinobi in their regular forces, or a member of the temple in some capacity.

“I still don’t understand how you got ahold of that information,” she said as the fighters lined up, facing each other. The announcer, or whatever he was supposed to be called, read out the charges. “I wish I could have had it years ago.”

“Oh, did someone die?” he asked. That was a little too neutral. Even though the people who’ve exchanged words with me probably know I’m not from around here, but I can’t act like I don’t care about people’s lives at all. “Sorry, I may be a little inured-“

“I’ve seen people die. I thought there was a point that I might not feel anything about it again.” She sniffed. “Then I lost my older brother.”

“He wasn’t a medical type too, was he?”

“No. I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but honestly I get the feeling like you’re not supposed to be here either… he was an informant to some instigators in Konoha.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of that. It was one of our operations on a border village with Yu,” he said, trying to explain it from the enemy perspective. Even as he thought of Kiri as an enemy, though, he could not help but feel bad for the strange woman who had lost her brother, even if he barely knew anything about her. Especially since I was basically responsible for that.

The announcer was done giving everyone the background. In the last few hours, Tobi had been explaining what he knew from the book to an incredulous medical type and a dispassionate swordsman, and the experimental treatment seemed to have worked, though it would only be made evident in battle. I’m really only giving him a chance. I couldn’t do anything more than that anyway, though.

The opponent, the man who had been seeking him out in the library, wielded a blade called Kabutowari, though it seemed most observers wondered how it counted as a sword; even if it was wielded like one, it was shaped more like an ax, and its reputation was probably held up just by killing everyone who disagreed. He raced forward and swung several times in a row, and Garen seemed to surprise him by dodging.

“What are you doing?” he demanded after the eighth stroke.

“I’m not dying.”

The onslaught continued. It seemed that the entire strategy of using the strange sword was relentless attacking and leaving no openings during the attack. Despite the focus on offense, the swordsman was not making any amateur mistakes like getting his weapon stuck in anything, or even overcommitting to a stroke. Without as much reach as he probably wanted, though, it was easy enough for anyone as quick as Garen to withdraw.

“He’s moving remarkably well for… someone who was coming down with bone rot just recently,” the medical type next to him said. “Even though I never knew this guy, I always care about my patients. I can’t help but root for him to survive here.”

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked. “You don’t have to watch the whole match or anything.”

“I need to see if the treatment works,” she said. “So far, it seems promising, but the other swordsman could just be vastly superior. If these are my patient’s last moments, then…”

He thought about Rin doing the same thing. It was a wonder if she managed to avoid serious punishment for failing the mission to kill the snow lord, even if he liked to think he could be actively reducing her penalty. Not only could his former teammates effectively blame the whole thing on him, they could offer to hunt him down, given that he was a missing ninja and they knew him best. It would hurt to find out if he accomplished nothing by running, but he wondered if it would hurt more to never find out what had happened.

The swordsman with Kabutowari seemed indefatigable. Even if he was using more energy with every attack than his opponent, who was only moving out of the way, he seemed to be getting closer and closer to hitting, and there was no guarantee that Garen had enough energy to keep dodging. What are their chakra reserves like, anyway?

Fundamentally, a shinobi swordsman was somewhere in between a standard shinobi and a samurai; there was more to it than a ninja who decided to make a blade his primary weapon. The blades they were using were completely different than standard weapons; even chakra reactive weapons- they were crafted with secret techniques known only to a line of bladesmiths, hidden and under the eternal protection of the Mizukage. Unless Kiri itself fell, there was no way that anyone was replicating the process.

“He’s not the youngest swordsman,” the medical type said, perhaps trying to reassure herself.

“He isn’t? I thought he was only fifteen.” Kakashi could beat him any day of the week. I don’t need to reveal that, though.

“No, the youngest is a boy named Momochi Zabuza. He graduated from the academy by killing everyone in his class, made Chunin the following year, and then challenged the wielder of Kubikiribochi for the blade. He’s universally considered a prodigy.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s been out on a mission for over a month. No one knows what he’s doing except the Sandaime himself.”

Tobi reminded himself it was not that odd that another village happened to be on their third kage. They were all founded around the same time, though in Konoha’s case, the first two went by pretty quickly, given that they both died during the same war, and the second spent a long time as an advisor to the first. The last time I saw him, he was chewing us out. Well, maybe the other two were kind of leading the charge.

The two swordsmen were both out of breath from what it seemed like. One had been using more energy, chakra included, but the other was coming off an illness. I didn’t even think about that. What else could I have done, though?

“Is this a good sign?” the medical type asked.

“Yes, in a way. If they both have the same amount of energy left, the attacker should run out first. He can’t afford to make a mistake now, though. This is almost certainly when the other guy is going to try to trick him.”

As much as the audience was booing, the one most frustrated with Garen’s approach was his opponent. It was a rejection of his absolute offense, and if he lost, it would be a particularly humiliating defeat. Fighting still harder, the wielder of Kabutowari refused to allow his strength to be seen to flag, at least not by his opponent, perhaps in hopes of getting him to surrender or make a mistake. There’s no surrender in trial by combat, though, so that definitely narrows it down.

It was a testament to their surpassing skill that both fighters could still demonstrate technique at the limits of their strength, and yet, the less energy they had, the more crucial it was to use the remainder of it efficiently. The audience was perhaps hopeful that some blood would at last be visible, but for whatever reason, their complaints were silenced. Putting his hand on the hilt of his sword, the accused signaled that he was going to draw soon.

“What does that mean?” the woman next to him asked.

“Well, blocking takes more energy than moving out of the way, so it means that he’s going to strike. It means that the way he’s estimated the strength of his opponent, it’s right about to run out.” He sighed. “I hope it works out for him.”

Tobi realized it was somewhat strange for him to be so invested in the match, even with the reasons he had already realized, but the teenager showed a strange amount of trust for him, in a village, in a world, really, where no trust was merited. He might have been desperate for rest when he went to sleep under his new partner’s guard, but anything could have happened, and it was just the fact that he had already been beaten that he cited as his reason for thinking the masked ninja was not going to harm him. Did Garen feel guilty about the fact that his trustworthiness was rewarded with waking the next morning in chains?

The fighters seemed to be at a stalemate, each staring at the other with a death glare, until the accused rested a single sword blade on the shoulder of the avenger. Breathing heavily, straining himself to death just to stay awake, it seemed the other swordsman was trying to summon any amount of energy to resist being mocked, but nothing was working. The younger shinobi only responded by putting his other hand on the hilt of his other sword before speaking.

“There are those of you who might wonder why I’ve taken such a conservative strategy when fighting for my life. It’s because I don’t agree to a trial by combat in this context, and I wanted to leave myself the strength to speak at the end- not to gloat, but the exact opposite. I could not kill my opponent to prove myself worthy of the sword already had; all that would accomplish is that there would be two swords and one less worthy swordsman. Even when I was arrested, even before I recovered from my illness, I decided that I would defeat my opponent without killing him.”

The spectators were silent. Tobi knew that even in Konoha, where some remnant of Ninshu was practiced, people would laugh at such lofty speeches, but it could not have been delivered from a position of greater strength. He was not using, not by any stretch of the imagination, the ideals as a means of protecting himself, rather, he had entered into a deliberately dangerous strategy in a fight for his life just to preserve the life of his opponent.

Garen sheathed his swords without joining them into one again, and walked out of the arena. In a fight to the death, a competitor could always be expected to leave himself not even the strength to carry himself out with dignity, and yet, that was precisely what the swordsman had done. The masked ninja offered him a shoulder to go back to the ship.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t leave with you earlier,” he said. “I’m sorry about tricking you just to trick Waraji as well; I never realized what kind of friend you would turn out to be.” Tobi was about to cut in and apologize for having wanted to leave without him. He was about to say that he was only sent back to retrieve the sword, and he might have done that had there been any way of retrieving it after a loss. “At the same time, I don’t want to be seen leaning on anyone.”

“No problem,” he said instead. “I gathered that you wanted to win with strength to spare, to show everyone that you chose that approach. You don’t want them to realize how much it strained you.”

“I’m glad you understand. It’s… I don’t know if it’s dishonest, but I can only think that if someone did see me practically carried to the ship, someone who wanted to completely misconstrue things-“

“I don’t have a problem with it. We can’t leave until dusk anyway.”

Garen had already stated that he wanted to become one of the well-known holders of the sword, a page in history, not a footnote. It was clear enough that he cared about how he was perceived. It reminded him of his dream of becoming Hokage, and yet, even as he wanted to reveal his sympathies, he felt like it would reveal too much of his identity.

Resting outside the prison, it was explained to them by an official that the swordsman should be out of the worst of his legal problems, and was as accepted as any other; he could thank Momochi Zabuza for that. When they set off again, they went to get supper in town after a fan, they supposed, gave them a small amount of money as a thoughtful favor, given that they had both come from the land of waves.

“More is coming,” Tobi promised as they walked to a restaurant. “You’re going to be put on more missions than you ever wanted, now that they see you’ve got a reason for it.” He thought for a moment. “Don’t go back to Gatou. I know I basically came back here because they couldn’t leave without you, but if I tell them that you decided to stay, then there’s nothing they could do about that.”

“There might be nothing they could do, but they’d take their frustration out on you. You know they have a few shinobi, and if enough of them came after you at once, you wouldn’t have a chance. I’ve got a better idea.”

The thought stayed with him as they went in and ordered their food, which was ceviche, a strange dish he had never seen before. It occurred to him he was surrounded by people who would probably never see him again, and Garen had shown him his face already. Taking off his mask, he set it on the table to eat.

“Did you think I would be someone you knew?” he asked.

“No, but I thought you’d be a little older, I guess. You look like you’re twelve.”

“Nami isn’t the only place where people tend to grow up quickly and die shortly after that,” he said, taking a small bite of the raw fish. “Honestly, the thing that confused me was that you seemed to accept that. I always wanted to change things.”

“You don’t still?”

He thought for a moment as he ate. It was true that in the last few days, he had hardly thought about his dreams and ideals, though it was not as if he could have shared them. Why did the swordsman make him think he could, just because he had ideals himself? What if they conflicted.

“There’s been an obstacle,” he said after a moment. The food was different and he could not say he liked it, but he was hungry and foresaw a long journey back, one way or the other. “I don’t know what I want now.”

“Do you want something different when there’s an obstacle?”

“Sometimes, yeah. There are some things that you should let be.”

He was not sure how; maybe it was adopting some other identity, maybe it was meeting Shingo, maybe it was something else, but he felt like he closed the book on his teammates. There was no voice inside telling him that Kakashi was taking advantage of Rin or that she would change her heart one day. What was surprising, without even his having to explain it, was that Garen seemed to understand. Rather than saying anything about his having given up on something, he ate quietly until they were both done.

For the first time, it seemed like he had run into a kindred spirit; he was just surprised at where and how they found each other. Neither were they a part of the same village, nor a part of the same clan, and yet, they could understand each other, at least to some extent. They walked back to the ship after paying at the front and taking in the sights as they left. The capital city of Kiri was truly massive and the buildings were all some shade of blue or green. The Daimyo’s palace, where they were probably preparing the heir for the role, was more of a large, multipurpose government building than a castle or a manor, and it did not stand out all that much from the warren of gaslit streets around it.

“I see you brought him back,” the helmsman said when they arrived. “In a few more hours, we leave.”

“I hope you spent your time wisely,” the swordsman said.

“Of course. With the money we made from the sales, we picked up goods we would never be able to get in Nami.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.”

The two of them walked past and onto the ship without another word. As concerned as Tobi was about getting back with the book, he could not help but wonder what was going to become of Garen. He had suggested not going back to Gatou because it did not seem like one of his ideals could serve a crime boss, at least as long as he was being mostly honest to the crowd during his trial by combat. At the same time, it was not as if he could, at this point, join a village, and the secret Uchiha village was something he could not even mention. How else can he find work to serve his ideals? Does he hope that he gets promoted within the organization or something?

The trip back passed in an uneasy silence. It was not that the masked ninja had nothing to say to anyone; he was just staying in character. His mind went back to the Hiraishin, which he still needed to practice. Taking out one of his kunai, he carved the technique formula, which in the scroll was called the ‘jutsu-shiki’ into the wood of his mask while everyone else was sleeping. He knew that he cut put it onto anything, but he felt like it would at least be easier to cut it into the wood. His tools, at the moment, were all metal and he had no way of carving into them. Once he practiced the space-time ninjutsu itself, he would try to get to a point where he could apply the formula just by touching something.

Going to the upper deck around midnight, he tossed the mask in the air and used the seal of confrontation, appearing right on top of it and then trying to turn over in the air before landing on the stern with a thud. That could have gone better. He grabbed the mask again and put it on. I shouldn’t be doing this on a ship that moves under me.

When morning came, they were moored in the land of waves. He had been right to suspect that Nami was the best place for him to find a ship that could get him to the land of mist, even if it turned out to be way more complicated than he could have predicted. What came next went exactly as he thought, and it was the two of them going into the warehouse from the harbor with the still rising sun to their backs and what looked like most of Gatou Company in front of them.

“Well, I take it that your efforts to prove yourself were successful. I only just heard over the radio that you defeated another shinobi swordsman in a trial by combat.” The crime boss frowned. “Tell me, though, did you kill the water lord?”

“No,” Garen said. “That was almost certainly the man who’s been calling himself Hokka,” he said. “I don’t know if that was his real name, or what his motive was.”

“He’s not the only trash to ever get tossed out by Konoha and land on us. Did your little friend ever explain where he learned that fire technique he used in broad daylight against you?”

It occurred to Tobi that he was not wearing handcuffs, and that was a surprise that had not been explained to the boss as it had been explained to the minions. Almost certainly, he figured it out just like that assassin. He knows I’m not a prisoner now, and I most likely never was one.

“Even if I were from the fire country, that wouldn’t mean I had ever heard of Hokka,” he said after a moment of thought. “He didn’t seem to be aware I’d been misidentified as a prisoner.”

Gatou took two steps forward and the swordsman responded in kind, as if immune to the mounting tension. The employees kept their distance, content to observe the confrontation. The masked ninja started to scan the place for escape routes, and they existed, but none were close to his position. Simple. I’ll use the clone technique if I need to get out of here. I’ve got to keep my head.

“Now that you’ve been recognized as a member of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, as you so desperately desired, I should hope you’re ready for a mission worthy of your newfound status, young master.”

“I am. I’m going to slay a monster. The land of waves will profit immensely.”

“How is it that you know where to go next if I haven’t-“

In the middle of the boss’s taunt, Garen charged forward, drawing and slashing in a single motion. The older man’s head flew up and landed on the ground with a thud. Without being ordered, the minions charged forward. Perhaps they recognized Gatou as the man who got them where they were. Perhaps whoever killed his killer could keep the job. Perhaps they were just angry none of them thought of it first.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this,” the swordsman said, holding the one blade with both hands. Swinging, he killed several murderers and cheats in a single blow. Maybe calling them murderers is hypocritical. “If you’re worried about me, though, don’t be. I’ll get myself out.”

Tobi would have liked to launch into a lecture on how a mob boss was hardly any different from a Daimyo, since neither of them were chosen by the people, both levied a protection fee on businesses and individuals, neither of them obeyed the rules they imposed, and if either ever did any positive thing, it was only for their own benefit. At the same time, he was otherwise occupied. Using a transformation jutsu to disguise his identity for the moment, he threw his mask through a high warehouse window, making the seals right after he kicked someone in the head and created a clone to distract someone else.

Gabbing the mask in midair, he landed on the roof and donned it again, rolling off into a jump onto the roof of another building, a harbor fishing office, most likely, and he looked back. There was nothing he wanted to do more than keep running, but he still had some time. Perhaps the swordsman was self-righteous, but at least he cared. At least he was not content to leave Nami the way he found it. The masked ninja spent the smallest possible amount of time thinking about how he would have preferred for someone to have dealt with Gatou, and it basically always ended the same way, except the citizens would have had to have approved of the death, hedging out the chance that they saw him as an ultimately beneficial businessman.

How would he ever have done that, though? How would he ever have gone around polling people on whether or not they wanted a crime boss dead? Would they ever say they did?

“Sorry, Dramada,” he muttered as he looked back at the warehouse. “Sorry Shingo and Hazuki. I’ll be back, and I might still be back in time, but I’ve got something else to get done first.”

Creating four clones and having them each come in from a different way, he charged back in after his strange new friend, carving the jutsu-shiki on a kunai as he ran. Estimating their numbers in his head, he guessed he had somewhere between no chance and all and just enough. It’s time to test out a double substitution technique. I’ve always wanted to see if this works.

The Shinobi Rules

Silirt

Chapter 46: Long Delayed

Chapter Text

The fundamental tasks of a ninja, the individual actions that ultimately comprised every mission, in some combination, were killing, stealing, investigating, scouting, and in some cases one might serve as an escort or guard. Charging into a room full of armed men and fighting was never part of the job description, and yet, at the moment, that was precisely what Tobi was doing. He could not exactly say what it was about the swordsman that had him so convinced he was one to watch, not entirely at least.

Perhaps the thinnest thread of hope was just something he needed.

Charging into the warehouse, he threw four shuriken out of each hand, with practiced ease hitting two necks, the others either dodged or blocked. Garen was still on his feet fighting, but he was up against two shinobi by the looks of it. Already Zori, the samurai, was dead, though it looked like he had been stabbed in the back.

Several armed men fled as soon as it appeared reinforcements arrived. Perhaps all they saw was a line of black robes approaching and they thought it was a rival crime group, or the secret forces of some other country. Either way, they did not stay to find out. The average person was completely outclassed in a battle against those with chakra control. Using the substitution with a dead body as he stabbed it with a kunai, he flipped over to the side of a kunoichi going through hand signs and kicked her in the hands right as someone else used a lighting jutsu on the corpse, dispelling the illusion he put on it.

Right as the half-naked man who used the technique found out he had been tricked, he closed in on Tobi’s position with surprising speed, only for him to use the Hiraishin and be in the last place he would have expected with a flash of white light, stabbing him in the back with a senbon and retrieving the kunai. There was no time to question any of what was going on; the only thing he could do was fight.

If more people were running, he was not paying attention; there was a shinobi using a bizarre shadow jutsu that was getting past Garen’s guard and leaving no openings. Throwing a shuriken at him resulted only in a wave of blackness knocking it out of the air. It’s a sound technique disguised as something else; I just don’t know what the hell to do about it.

Oto produced some of the least predictable ninja out of any of the smaller countries. It was like they were legitimately trying to turn sound into an element and it was working. Throwing the marked kunai in one direction and his mask in another, he teleported to the first, and then the second, throwing a shuriken both times, with only one hit. The sound ninja seemed to think he was going to reappear at the place where he originally was, which was a good guess and the mark of incredible powers of observation in the heat of battle, but completely wrong. The opening allowed the swordsman to stab him straight in the heart. The kunoichi threw up her hands when he closed the distance.

“I surrender,” she said. Her painted face suggested she was not used for combat most of the time. Really, I should have picked that up from the fact that she was hanging back and trying to use an elemental transformation, from the hand signs. “Are you taking over the group or grinding it into dust?”

Tobi had not even thought about that, not in that way at least.

“Anyone who wants to come with me can come with me, but what we’re doing is founding a hidden village. We’re putting to rest this whole thing about how Nami doesn’t have shinobi; we need a Kage and I’m willing to be the first.”

“You’ve killed some of the people Gatou used as trainers.”

“They were trying to kill me,” he said. “There are people around here who’ve had some exposure to chakra control, though, so they’re going to help me build our ninja academy. We might not have everything the other countries have, but we have to start somewhere, and if the strongest shinobi on this island is standing right in front of you, then I’m the one who has to start it.”

“There are mistakes from history that you’ll have to avoid,” the masked ninja said after a moment. “Don’t force anyone to be part of the village; don’t make it a home for runaway criminals-”

“I’ll have to thank you, Tobi, but I know you’re not from around here. I know you can’t stay and help us build up the village, and for that reason I’ll have to keep to my own plans,” he said. “The hidden village of the waves can only be built by people who have felt the tides.”

“I understand,” he said after a moment. He felt like he was a great historical resource, and there really had been countless mistakes that a new village would need to know, but there was also a lot that he did not know, and as long as he was not going to take on the task of running the village, he had no right to decide its course. “At the same time, I am going to return here as soon as I can, and I would like to remain as a consultant. If there is any way in which I can help-”

“There is,” Garen said. “We don’t need weapons or physical resources like that. We need knowledge and trainers. Are you acting on behalf of any other village?”

“None of the Five.”

“That’s good enough for me. I’ll let you get back there while I take the next few necessary steps. There are children all over the country that would do anything for a chance at enrollment in a ninja academy.”

“I can see why.” He took a deep breath. “I hate to be leaving now, but I really can’t stay. Hold onto this for me. It’s important.” He held out the marked-up kunai that he retrieved from the body. “Good luck, swordsman.”

He had no need of a boat to get back, not when he was going to be running across the waves and then just crashing when he got back to the secret village. Time passed in a blur. He was off the island in a matter of minutes, and grabbed a fish out of the sea as he ran across it. As he might have expected, the raw fish did not taste nearly as good while he was running, not in reference to the expertly prepared ceviche that he had in Kiri. The chakra control required just as much focus as before, but he found that the level of focus required was easier for him.

When he reached the land, it was late afternoon and he wondered how Kakashi and Rin were progressing on their own chakra control, but he quickly realized there was an even better question. How would they build a village if they got the chance?

It seemed pretty obvious that as long as they were both still loyal to Konoha, any new village would have to swear allegiance before accepting help, but neither of them were perfectly content with the way things were back home. It went without saying that they would have some changes to recommend; he could already see the White Fang’s son formalizing the Shinobi Rules as a legal code for everyone in the village, and Rin… What did she want? Sometime she seemed to agree with Kakashi, but sometimes not so much. I don’t think she was ever completely on my side.

Night fell before he managed to return, and he tried to count up the days that he had been gone in his head, but some of them ran together unhelpfully. He would be able to get in after hours, but it was another day on the elapsed time either way. I should still be in time. This isn’t a book about emergency medical ninjutsu anyway, so we should be just fine. It really shouldn’t make a difference when I get it back.

The most likely explanation for the time constraint was because there were other missions for him to perform, though he really hoped a few would take him out in the same direction. Dramada must’ve known I’d get distracted and try to do something else at the same time. Even if I do get the mission done within eight days, I have to at least inform him at some point.

Shingo did not rise to meet him when at last he reached the small house, which seemed to have expanded and become somewhat more elaborate since he was last there. Taking off his cloak and mask, he hung up both by his bed and crashed. There was something nice about being himself again, and the relief that mission success brought with it made it easy to sleep.

“Obito?”

He heard a voice calling out to him when he woke up and found Hazuki was getting ready for the day. Getting out of bed, he exited his small room and found her in the main area.

“Good morning,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

“Shingo is out today. I woke up and saw the door open…”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I- well, in the village, my grandmother’s door closes by itself because it’s weighted and it's on an odd angle…” He thought of the old lady who raised him practically from birth. “Hey, I know we said that we would take care of her, but can we move her out here? I feel like she might be lonely.”

“We need to maintain a presence in Konohagakure,” the fuinjustu specialist said after a moment. “The short version is that many of us have spoken with our clan leader and we are going to blame our low birth rates on infertility, and there are some who have volunteered to become infertile, beyond what any medical ninja could treat.”

“I see. Most of the babies, but not all of them, will be born out here.” He thought of Fugaku and Mikoto. “What about people who’ve already started having kids and they’re still in the middle of it?”

“We do not intend to control every aspect of their lives. Each family will only take the steps for the clan that it can commit to taking.”

“Oh, okay. I don’t want to make it sound like- well, I really wasn’t thinking that-“

“I understand,” Hazuki said. He was starting to feel like she was getting used to him, and how he expressed himself, or tried to. “Did you complete your mission?”

“Oh, right!” He ran back to the room and retrieved the book, holding it out to her in a heartbeat. “I was going to let you see it first.”

Whether or not they were explicitly going along with what Dramada wanted, she thumbed through the book until she found a section about fertility and various diagnostic techniques that she could attempt. Not looking up, she requested that he report that the book was delivered and was already in use. Agreeing with her way of putting it, he set out to find the larger building at the center of the village.

“Good morning, Obito. I trust you were successful?” the middle aged man said as soon as he walked in, still somewhat surprised by the level of familiarity.

“The book has been retrieved and is in use already,” he said.

“I suppose I could not hope for any result better than that.” There was a faint smile in his eyes, but it faded quickly. “I heard some rather disturbing news from the land of mist; the Water Daimyo who resides there was apparently-“

“I didn’t kill him,” he said, probably too quickly. “I was trying to get in and out without getting noticed at all. The last thing I wanted was that much attention. I don’t have a clue why Hokka did it, but unless it was someone else, it’s too convenient.”

Dramada motioned for him to go on and give a full report, and he did so without complaint. It took a matter of hours, and he tried to leave out anything he saw as truly irrelevant, but it still felt exhaustive. It still felt like he was being interrogated, which bumped up the level of formality. Even though it was strange and uncomfortable, though, there was something reassuring about how seriously their responsibilities were being taken.

“I hope those young ninja that you met are not blamed for the disappearance of the book,” the older man said after a pause. “Kiri seems to have no regard for children.”

“Honestly, I don’t know when they’ll even notice that the book is gone, with all that’s happened over there lately. They might not think it happened on the same day, and even if they do find out when it happened, I don’t know that they’d have a log of who happened to be in there studying. The kids weren’t on guard duty or anything, I don’t think.”

“It seemed you had to involve yourself with the situation on the land of waves.”

“I know. I shouldn’t be seen by anyone, but at the time I was disguised. I couldn’t think of any way of getting through the mist without getting in a ship that was headed there, so I went to one of their allied nations; it was my best chance.” He thought for a moment. “It got kind of weird with that swordsman, and I know that’s not what I was sent out there to do, but I figured I still had the time to get back.”

“I suppose you did. I granted what I thought was a generous window of time; I had every confidence that you could complete the mission substantially sooner, but I did not want you to feel rushed. The success of the mission should propel our research forward by leaps and bounds.”

“I’m glad, sir,” he said after a moment. “I… well, I can’t help but wonder what’s gone on in Konoha since I left. You go back and forth, right?”

“I do, but most of the time I focus on clan duties.” He sighed. “At the same time, I would not want you going there yourself, even in a disguise, so I suppose it would be wisest to simply tell you where to find someone who might help you.”

“I wouldn’t take a risk like that,” he said, again, perhaps too quickly.

“I am glad you would at least certify as much. Sagara, as you may know, has demonstrated loyalty to our clan and has agreed to take the risk of moving back and forth. Officially, her research occasionally takes her to Tanzaku Gai.”

“There’s a library there?”

“She was never required to state anything so specific. As long as her absences are explained, and as long as no one looks for another explanation, no one is suspicious of anything.”

“Is she here today?”

“If not this morning, within a few hours. In the last few years she has taken on a solitary training regimen. It goes without saying that she needs someone who understands her.”

Well, you still said it.

He went out to the small training ground that the secret village had designated for the kids. Shingo was expected to teach them advanced techniques, including dojutsu, though that sounded like a challenge because he had heard that it was common for different users of the Sharingan to learn different techniques. Because he was their only Jonin at the moment, he had a position of great respect and there were other adults at the small school who would harshly discipline the kids who so much as talked out of turn, leaving the teachers to focus on instruction.

The kunoichi was sitting cross-legged in a field. Her hair had gone from the hybrid style she had as a kid to the long, unkempt mop he had seen at one point to a much shorter cut. She was wearing a practical red combat dress after the style of some of the old clans, but she carried no weapons, not even on the belts on her thighs. She opened her eyes right as he sat down in front of her, and he opened his.

“Beautiful. Your tomoe are so dark,” she said, commenting on his eyes.

“Before this last mission, it was hard to get them to activate consciously,” he admitted. “I had some time to myself, though, so I made use of it.”

“When I first realized what I was doing, I immediately stopped them,” Sagara said. “There was no need for anyone else in the village to realize that I was using the Sharingan.”

“It’s more or less a guarantee, as I understand it,” he said. “They won’t care if you keep your cards close to your chest, but I can’t see you leading anyone to believe that you just didn’t ever awaken your kekkei genkai. If you have at least one Uchiha parent, then it’s a certainty that you’ve inherited it, and then it’s just a matter of whether or not you ever put yourself in that kind of situation.”

“I suspected as much. I assume you want to know about your team?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while and I kind of left them in the middle of a stressful situation. I’ve had no information since then. I don’t expect you looked into it just for my sake, but-“

“Rin and Kakashi were both assigned to individual missions. They were not demoted, but their futures are dependent on the success of these missions that are secret to the rest of the village. The rumor is that they discovered something so valuable that it offset their failure to complete their previous mission.”

He thought for a moment about what exactly they might have discovered. It did not take all that long.

“There was something that happened three times. I’m starting to think it wasn’t a coincidence. We ran into something that would be a huge stretch if anyone ever called it a natural phenomenon.”

At a motion for him to continue, he told the kunioichi about the incidents in chronological order, starting with what they encountered in Taki. Initially, he would not have lumped that event in with the others, since they assumed that it was a genjutsu placed there to protect the border, but the other two had been around borders as well, and it seemed no one knew about them. It was doubtful that Yuki, with barely any ninja, could have created that kind of problem, that kind of obstacle for uninvited visitors, and it was even more doubtful that Yu, where they found the third, would have imposed some kind of border deterrent without telling Konoha. The footprints on the ground were another hint to the idea that most likely, they were creatures of some sort, and that they chose to hang out around borders to avoid people. Putting out massive amounts of chakra whenever someone came by, they were most likely trying to disguise themselves as natural disasters, keeping everyone to the beaten paths.

“There’s no proof of any of this, is there?”

“No, it’s just the most likely explanation as far as I understand it.” He thought for a moment. “Do you have any idea of what it is?”

“You’ve heard about the battle between Madara and Hashirama, correct?”

“Yeah, everything that wasn’t left out of the history books.” She raised an eyebrow. “Come on, I know there had to have been a reason for developing Mokuton. He never really used wood transformations before that battle.”

“Our records detail the encounter completely. Shodai brought the greatest weapon in the world against his old friend; it was meant to be an honor, that nothing less could kill him. It failed, not that the result mattered. It was the Kyubi.”

“No one’s seen one of those in generations,” Obito said. “I wouldn’t have thought they were still alive. Then again, it would make sense that no one has heard of them in a long time if they’ve been hiding and scaring people away from their positions.”

“The Bijuu are creatures of practically inexhaustible chakra,” Sagara explained. “They never age or die, and for the first time, we learned that they could be bound to the service of a human being, but only a shinobi of incredible power and skill. Madara used the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan to control the nine tailed fox.”

Nothing the two of them had just said could have been related within Konohagakure, not where there were eyes and ears everywhere. Clan secrets, however, could be spoken freely in the secret village, and the same could be said of confidential mission details. I need to find out more.

“What happened next?” he asked. “The Kyubi must have been what Hashirama was countering with wood transformation. It wouldn’t have been enough to win, so the historical record might be accurate from that point on, but it never mentioned what happened to the Bijuu. Did it run off?”

“The Uzumaki were quite popular in what was to become Konoha around this time,” the kunoichi continued. “The leader of the Senju had a theory that their sealing techniques could restrain even a demon of that proportion, but this was a theory that he never had the opportunity to test. In any event, the fuinjutsu expert that he had married as part of the alliance, Uzumaki Mito, was capable of sealing it, but when sealed inside a wooden box, they had no use for it.”

“Where’s the box?” he asked.

“I have no idea. Madara was content to let the village keep it. As such, it is most likely hidden in some place that only the Hokage knows.”

“Could they seal up the rest of the Bijuu?” he asked. “There are eight more out in the wild, unless they already got some of them.”

“It is possible that they could, but I do not know if they ever did. The wife of your teacher, Uzumaki Kushina, was most likely brought here to counter any chance of another demon being used against the village.”

“Can anyone else control them?” he asked. “Do you need to have the Sharingan, or is that only one method?”

“Perhaps I should explain the Eternal Mangekyo first. As you know, the higher level of the kekkei genkai enables the user to employ more dojutsu, but comes with a cost of causing the eyes to bleed with use. Eventually, the evolved form of the Sharingan will burn out the eyes. The only way to keep this from happening is to replace one set of eyes with another, ideally from a sibling.”

“That’s what Madara must have done, then,” he reasoned. “His brother, Izuna, had already died at that point.” Obito thought for a moment. “What difference would that make, though? Wouldn’t you burn out the next set of eyes?”

“According to our research, no. Battlefield transplants during the Second Shinobi War, employed only out of necessity, and only within the clan, revealed that even a man with one of his own eyes, and one of his sibling’s, felt a clear difference between them. Though his eye was burning out, his late sister’s never burned out, and we realized what our leader must have allowed to be forgotten.”

“Well, I guess I can be satisfied with the fact that it happened, but I still don’t get it. That still doesn’t explain why it’s any different.”

“I happen to think that once a shinobi of the appropriate kekkei gekai learns to use a technique, the knowledge of how to perform the technique stays with him or her, even through a transplant. With the new eye, none of the damage dealt while learning the technique is there.”

It kind of made sense, but it was still only a theoretical explanation. It hardly mattered, since neither of them had even awakened the Mangekyo Sharingan in the first place. Sagara had more to say on the matter, however.

“Did you ever learn what happened to your parents’ eyes, Obito?”

The Shinobi Rules

Silirt

Chapter 47: Inheritance

Chapter Text

When night fell, Obito found himself staring up at the ceiling of the small room that had become his home. He thought about his first home, where his father and mother had lived for a short time, with his grandmother, and he thought of them, not for the first time. His only living relative had not told him everything he wanted to know, nor had she likely even told him everything that she knew, but at some point he stopped pressing her for details.

His parents, both Jonin, had been assigned to countless missions, and had each proven their abilities, which they shared with the Hokage, the better for him to delegate tasks. It was a break in tradition and the strictest interpretation of clan rules, but it hardly mattered, because Sandaime never reported to anyone else the nature of their advanced dojutsu. Sent to fight together against an Iwa incursion deep into Konoha, they both died in the effort to protect the civilians, though the details were murky even to Sagara, who was telling him things he had never heard before. The regular people they were protecting were not required to report to the village, and when they returned the bodies, Dramada never said anything about it. He led everyone to believe that the bodies were lost.

Why would he do that, though? Why not let them have graves? Was it just to keep their eyes in case someone needed them? As little as he liked it, he guessed the timing would have worked out. The reality of the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan had already been discovered.

“It was right after the second war officially ended,” the kunoichi had said. “There was a team that was most likely there wearing faked leaf hitai-ate, based on the bodies we recovered, and most likely they were originally there to conduct a false flag attack on a civilian town. They were forced to withdraw after a careful diplomatic measure during the peace talks would have permanently closed all borders between the lands of stone and fire. Isolated and without an escape route, their efforts would have ended in failure after they were hunted down and killed, and their bodies would contain kekkei genkai unique to Iwa.”

“So, because my parents were sent there to protect the village of civilians, they really just had to hold out long enough for the enemy to be informed of what was going on in the peace talks,” he surmised while he was listening to her. It was a surreal conversation, he remembered.

“Most likely, yes. The second Tsuchikage handed down a specific policy of command structure that would have guaranteed the operation leader, most likely a Jonin, would have been informed of any change to mission details within six hours. We learned about this shortly after the land of rock and the land of earth became one in the same.”

Staring up at the ceiling, he knew that Dramada must have told Sagara everything, because he would have been around for it, but it was hard to imagine why. She could have asked about any eyes they had left over. He rolled over in bed, not wanting to think about his parents having their corpses mutilated to preserve the secrets of the clan. Could any amount of power ever be worth that?

He must have fallen asleep, because the following morning, he was woken up to be summoned to the missions desk, where Uno was waiting, oddly enough. Though the eyes carried a lot of the face’s expressions, he could tell the blind boy was deeply concerned. A kunoichi, blonde and a few years older than either of them, was talking quietly with the de facto village leader.

“Who’s she?” he asked.

“There’s someone else here?”

“Uh, sorry.”

“I’m just messing with you. I can hear her voice. Her name’s Mado. Apparently, no one realizes she’s an Uchiha, so she can come and go from the village, and she’s been doing it for years now.”

“That’s probably because of the hair,” Obito said. “I thought we all had black hair. I thought it was a dominant trait.”

“Oh, well, thanks, that clears things up for me.” He chuckled. “I don’t know everything about genetics, but I’m pretty sure that sometimes the dominant trait isn’t expressed.”

“What are these two doing here?” she asked, pointing at them as though she had just noticed them. “I can handle this on my own.” Her eyes narrowed and turned red. “-or do you doubt my loyalty again?”

“Time and time again, you have proven your loyalty, Mado. The fact that you are a traitor’s daughter does not make you a traitor.”

“What did her parents do?” Obito asked.

“That’s a question for another time,” Dramada said. “Uchiha Tekka has disappeared. There is no information about whether this is a kidnapping, or whether he has died in action. Because Sagara has been selected for an official mission by the elders, I am left with two free ninja that have experience on various missions-“

“One of those is a blind idiot,” she said.

“He might be blind, but he does not have to remain that way.” The middle aged man took a deep breath. “Obito, with the book that you secured, we are now able to transplant eyes, even to those who have long since lost their own. With your permission, your father’s eyes-“

“You have them on ice somewhere?!” he demanded. “Why- I never had anything of my parents; I didn’t even have a grave to visit and you had-“

“You were too young to make an informed decision about what you inherited when we collected the eyes of your parents; you had only recently been born. I recognize that the preservation of kekkei genkai may come off as macabre, but we could potentially give this boy a chance to see again.”

He was about to shout something else, but something like guilt stopped him dead in his tracks. Uno only looked surprised. No one would have told him that something like this was in the works, not before the book was retrieved.

“Would that work?” Mado asked, interested. “They say that the ideal donor is a brother or sister.” She sighed. “I can’t help but be jealous. I inherit suspicion and this kid inherited two sets of eyes.”

“You can manipulate Obito and Uno into thinking that you were treated unfairly while on this mission. To answer your question, with the use of this new technique, there is a decent chance that it will work, and if it does not, the eyes will not be ruined.”

“I can only ask for one, sir,” the blind boy said after a moment. “If these four eyes are all he has left of his parents, then…”

“I don’t object,” the kunoichi said. “It makes sense to have as many of them on hand as possible, especially if it turns out that they can now be transplanted to non-family members. I should think I have earned at least one of my own.”

“Those are my parents’ eyes,” he said.

“These are mine,” Mado said, turning to face him. The pupil and three tomoe were replaced by a simple triangle. “I have already awakened the Mangekyo Sharingan, and unlike some people, I don’t burn straight through them. I have also kept it perfectly secret from the Hokage.”

“You’re the only one with an incentive to keep it secret from the village,” Dramada said after a moment. “Here we have three shinobi, one particularly skilled with her eyes, one in need of eyes, and the third, their rightful owner. Tell me, are your eyes yours?”

“What kind of question is that?” she asked.

“So, we can infer that the eyes we have ‘on ice’ belonged to Obito’s parents. Before they died, they asked that everything they owned, including the house, including various tools, would be passed down to their son, through his grandmother. If they owned their eyes, then those also become the property of their son. Again, I recognize that it can be seen as somewhat macabre to retrieve them and keep them preserved, and I recognize that it can be seen as deceitful to only tell young Obito of it now, but I trusted that one day, he would thank me for keeping track of these things for him.”

Everyone in the room looked at him. He knew what they had expected, but it was a lot to take in at once. Of course I could never have consented to Dramada keeping my parents’ eyes. That’s like… that’s like consenting to be born or something; it’s just a stupid talking point.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment. “If Uno is happy with one eye, then he can have one. Let’s at least see if it works.”

“I’m afraid I can’t let this go,” Mado said, facing down. “I understand that some people are attached to the memories of their parents. Simultaneously, if I were to receive a transplant, I could keep my own eyes preserved in case someone needed them.”

“Then you may hope that Obito sees the wisdom in that argument, because it is not my decision. I had hoped that sending the two of you on a mission together would give you some greater respect for each other. In any event, before removing your eyes, we should proceed with the transplant with Uno.”

All at once, everyone was in agreement, more or less, though he could tell things were not so simple under the surface. Really, anyone could tell. I don’t even know what the deal is with my own teammates.

While Dramada led one such teammate to the basement, the other turned to him and he met her eyes. You might as well tell me now.

“My father was a bastard. No one was aware that he was an Uchiha, or that he had the Sharingan. Growing up among other orphans, I suppose I can try to have sympathy for him at this stage in his life. He ended up working as an apprentice for a craftsman, my maternal grandfather. When our old friend came in asking about wood techniques that could be replicated, he saw the family resemblance to two of our clan, and the short version is that everything he learned, he wrote in a letter and sold it to some of the other families.”

“They know about the Magekyo Sharingan?”

“No, we don’t think so. Dramada was careful about what he revealed, and my father was basically the type who would hear something and assume he had the whole story, so they might have heard a few names or dates, but it’s all very surface level.” She sighed. “Anyway, he and my mother sort of gravitated to each other and started sleeping together, which prompted my grandfather to throw them both out of the house. It was a violation of the apprenticeship agreement and the rules that my mother agreed to abide while she lived under his roof as an adult.”

“Oh, so she was an adult already,” Obito said. It had seemed like they were still kids because she never mentioned how much time had passed and he could conceive of an orphan getting an apprenticeship just to get out of the orphanage.

“She was sixteen. That’s old enough to get married, but no one was really interested in her; she wasn’t attractive and didn’t come from a bloodline. When my father gave her any kind of attention, she practically threw herself at him. It was so much easier to just sleep with her rather than go on dates with girls and try to see if they were interested.”

“Why didn’t your grandfather just sort of let them move out if he didn’t want them going at it in the house? Wouldn’t he be grateful if someone married his daughter?”

“That wasn’t the whole problem. After my father betrayed the Uchiha clan, no one knew he did it- no one except Dramada, who expressed his disappointment. My grandfather was already aware that he and my mother were attracted to each other, but at this point he became convinced my father would treat his obligations to her like he treated his obligation to the clan.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course, they were already going at it behind his back. Most likely, I was conceived in that shop.”

“When did you learn all this?”

“I became aware of most of my parents’ life stories between three and four. After they were kicked out, they tried to make it on their own for a few years before they turned to petty crimes and my father was killed for it. My memories start in a prison, asking question after question of my mother. The guards didn’t let her hit me, so the only way to shut me up was to tell me. Dramada had seen my mother pregnant once, and so when he found us, he offered to put me through the ninja academy.”

Obito could figure out most of the rest. Mado was probably near the top of her class, and if she ever received anything from the Uchiha fund, she paid it back pretty quickly after that. She was probably told that the dojutsu were secret, and if possible, the clan wanted her to conceal her own membership to it, and at some point during her missions, she awakened the Sharingan and then the Mangekyo, without revealing this to her team.

“When did you get away from doing missions for the village?” he asked. “Someone of your talents wouldn’t get let go easily.” It seemed to go without saying that she had to have some way to get enough of a break to run out on an unauthorized mission.

“Tell me about it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “The short version is that my teammates were both pretty subpar. I ran ahead and did everything, from the Chunin exams onward. I let them take the credit and I assumed this sweet, dependent personality that seemed to fit the weak link on the team. Originally, I was going to quit and move out here full time, but they insisted that they would tell the Hokage that I was carrying unless I kept working with them. My condition was that they would manufacture a break for our team whenever I wanted one. Someone would have to act sick or take a sabbatical, allowing me to seek out other work.”

“Yeah, I can see why just quitting wouldn’t work,” he said after a moment. “They wouldn’t want to get found out the hard way.”

“Of course, their pride could never-“

“That’s not the hard way. The hard way is that they get assigned a mission they could never complete, and then they die.” His explanation seemed to catch Mado off guard, but she recovered quickly. Even if she had not particularly thought of it, she could easily see the reason in it and move on. She doesn’t want to look foolish, and she knows that there’s nothing dumber than keeping with some point after it’s been proven wrong.

They said nothing for a moment until the older Chunin decided she wanted to test his abilities. They started with taijutsu, fighting just outside the building, and he quickly found she was an absolute monster, but he was remotely able to keep up with her. He could only imagine that she had thrown herself into difficult fights for years in an effort to prove her loyalty. When she at last knocked him against the ground, he realized there was a hole in her story, something he had not figured out.

“When did you lose your mother?” he asked, looking up at her. “The last thing you said about her was that she was in prison.”

“She didn’t stay there for the rest of her life,” the kunoichi said, sitting down next to him to catch her breath, though her movements were restrained. She’s used to not wanting people to know when she’s winded. “At some point, she decided to start living off my earnings, but that was short-lived. There was some diplomat who was visiting from Kumo and he took an interest in her for some reason, which kept me from having to publicly cut her off.”

“Why did you hate her?” he asked, having sat up while she was talking. “Don’t tell me you were loyal to the Uchiha clan before you even…”

“Well, perhaps you’re right, in a sense. I only became loyal to the secret village after I found out about it, and it was substantially smaller at the time. I realized there was no other family that I could ever take pride in joining. Everything was different, almost immediately. Mikoto became like an older sister; she taught me everything I needed to know, though I already knew more than a child should ever know; I just nodded along like I was hearing it for the first time.”

“So, you hated your mom because she never did any of that for you,” Obito said after a moment. “Your mom didn’t shelter you like normal kids-“

“I find it hard to blame her for not keeping things from me. I would not have been sheltered in an orphanage, and so I was a little kid inside of a women’s prison. Have you ever been over there?”

“No.” He knew it existed, because that was what ended up happening to that elder who was arrested for corruption, but it was not very large and he had no one to visit there.

“It’s not a large place, and it serves basically all of Konoha. Sure, some part of the discrepancy comes from the fact that judges and elders, wherever you are, give women lower penalties, but most of it is the fact that we commit less crimes in all categories but one.”

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Child abuse.”

“They abused you?” he asked. “I thought you said the guards wouldn’t-“

“Oh, the guards wouldn’t let them hit me, but there are different kinds of abuse. They were in prison, and telling me about everything they felt like telling me, whether it was true or not, was their idea of entertainment. They completely deprived me of my childhood. When I finally went to the academy, I said things to the other girls that I thought was all common knowledge. I think the worst thing was that I never realized that women have a protective, nurturing instinct toward their children.”

Obito did not know how to respond, but it seemed Mado wanted to test his ability to stay hidden even more than she wanted a response out of him. He decided not to use the Hiraishin just to avoid being found, even though it would tell her something about his abilities. It was simply not how he was being tested. Consequently, he stuck to the basic tricks of hiding in the forest until she eventually found him, and she seemed moderately impressed with his hiding ability.

“Tell me about your missions,” she demanded as they went back to the village. He did, basically reciting the reports he had written. It made logical sense to go in chronological order, though that was apparently not how she wanted to listen to it, asking questions about things that had not happened yet.

“That’s basically all of it,” he said after a while.

“Did Kakashi ever talk that girl into teaching him the jutsu that canceled out his smell?”

“Yeah, it was pretty simple,” he said, his brow wrinkling somewhat. “I learned it at the same time.”

“Strange. I could still find you by smell.”

After he took some steps to ensure that he was ready to leave for a mission, namely leaving a kunai with the jutsu-shiki carved into it as well as donning his costume, he found that Uno’s operation had been a complete success, and he was testing out the eye, which was strange to see on him along with a glass eye. Mado asked if there were any eyes in preservation apart from the ones that belonged to Obito by inheritance.

“No,” Dramada said. “I would have told you about it after finding out about your interest.”

“Sir, if my parents achieved the Mangekyo, then didn’t they damage their own eyes?” he asked. “If he has one of my father’s eyes, then…”

“The truth is, Madara never understood this, not that he revealed. To this day, no one is certain as to why the problem can be ignored by transplant.”

It was not an answer that he wanted, but he supposed a clan leader would not necessarily be able to explain it anyway. If the information existed, he would have access to it, or he would be able to direct anyone who was curious in the right direction, but it seemed no one had looked into it. If we didn’t even look into what makes it hard for people to have kids, of course we wouldn’t worry about something like this.

“Can you use your dojutsu?” Mado asked. “You might be able to see through the eye, but if-“

“I already tried it out,” he said. “I’m a tracker type.”

“Excellent, your presence on this mission will be at least somewhat warranted. We’ve wasted enough time already; let’s get going.”

Obito went ahead and assumed that some of the details must have been explained to her as they ran off. They were going to the southwest, Aosa Town, which was near the temple of the south, as well as the border with Riwa. It’s funny; I’ve never been so close to Suna before. Come to think of it, I really haven’t even been in this direction before.

When they stopped for the night, it seemed that they all wanted to take the first watch, and Mado basically won, so they shrugged and went along with it. Why was Tekka over here in the first place? What mission did he have that took him this way?

He could not help but think about the Bijuu, and about how he was almost certainly right in his initial, fearful speculation that they had come across such creatures of legend. Are we going to run into another one? Have they been more active lately, or was it just hushed up? What’s the village’s interest in them?

When he woke up, he was next to the kunoichi, and it was time for his watch, so he got out of the tent. If there had ever been a time when he did not take it seriously, that time had long since passed. Vigilant, he looked around carefully until the sun rose, and the other two were up without having to be awakened.

“I’ve never heard of a tracker type,” he said in the morning.

“It’s kind of like a sensor type,” Uno said, yawning. “Damn, I am not used to being able to see.” He seemed to take a moment just to appreciate the morning light.

“We’ll be there today,” Mado said. “Let’s get the gear packed up and move.”

He supposed it was weird being in a tent with a girl again after all that had happened, but simultaneously it was such a standard procedure that the only difficult part was thinking about it. The one in question did not express any interest in him, and though she was reasonably attractive, he did not express any interest in her. As far back as he remembered in the academy when they were taught about survival skills, the instructors never mentioned that they might have to sleep together in ways that might be uncomfortable. Huh. I guess that never really registered next to the fact that we would be ordered to kill people.

The Shinobi Rules

Silirt

Chapter 48: Questioning Eyes

Chapter Text

The prediction about their progress turned out to be right, and they were in the small town in a short amount of time. Like many of the buildings in Riwa, at least as they understood it, the buildings in Aosa were cut out of a white stone, and seemed relatively uniform in design. We must’ve claimed this at some point.

“Where did we see him last?” Obito asked. “Do we have any other clues?”

“First, we need to find our accommodations,” Mado said. “We’re not supposed to be here, because none of us are supposed to be active shinobi accepting missions, so we have to disguise ourselves as something else.”

“We could be doing a prisoner transport,” he suggested, thinking of how he had only just pretended to be a captured fugitive himself.

“That’s not going to work,” Uno said. “They’d ask which one of us was being transported and why greater security measures- it’s always more than what we have here. We’re better off just passing as everyday servants.”

“Perhaps you are,” the blonde kunoichi said. “That happens to give us the best chance of blending in, though, so I’ll go along with it. Are you about to tell me you have a codename for whenever you’re out on missions?”

“Yeah, call me Tobi.”

“That’s such a stupid name; anyone who knows who you are would instantly-“

“Would you rather call me Madara?” he asked, thinking about how he had an even more divided idea of the first Hokage than the second. She scowled. “I didn’t think so.”

When they went about looking for accommodations in town, having used Henge to adopt a different appearance, his mind was focusing on the life story he had heard. He had taken the form of a random person he half-recognized from Konohagakure, and he was probably not carrying himself in the way of a normal tradesman, but before he knew it, he was talking to one about doing odd jobs for a place to stay. We need to blend in if we’re going to be looking for clues. The fact that Mado didn’t answer my question, at least in my mind, means that we don’t have any just yet.

It was obvious that they would cover more ground and draw less suspicion to themselves if they split up, but it also gave him the chance to think for a moment. His new teammate wanted to get out and get looking for the target as soon as possible. Was there something going on there? Did he mean something to her?

He guessed they could have been working together at some point, and it was easy to see them doing something as simple as that. If he had any deeper connection with her, though, he had to know who she really was, and that meant he knew that she put on a face depending on where she was. If he primarily lived in the village, it was likely that he knew her by her fake personality, and that, he would think, would keep him from wanting to go out with her if he knew that it was a front.

Maybe I’m just too straightforward myself. Maybe he likes that kind of girl. As he went into the tradesman’s shop, he repaired some old nets and was lost in thought once more. Does she ever think to herself that her father would not have been an orphan if his parents had taken care of him? She wouldn’t have been born, I guess, because he would have had a different life, but what if his parents were dead? Would she expect someone else in the clan to step up?

“Thanks, Tobi, you really know your way around nets,” the fisherman said when he was done. He had concealed the fact that his fingers were calloused from working with razor wire. “I wasn’t expecting to pick up someone so helpful.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said after a while. “I really only expect to have a place to sleep. I’m new in town.”

“We don’t get a lot of people who are new in town.”

“Really?” It seemed better to act like he had no idea.

“Not since Riwa has claimed the territory, no,” the fisherman said. “Everyone’s thinking that the land might just get taken. Property values, well, they’re not going up.”

“How could they ever take the territory?” he asked. “Konoha’s the strongest country in the world, far and away.”

“Well, that might be the case, but I don’t think most people think they could take every other country at once, and it’s starting to look more and more like that’s what’s going to happen. Besides, the river ninjas would have the advantage in this border skirmish.”

He thought about it. The border with Riwa was a river, which made drawing maps easy, but it probably meant taking something that was more geographically similar to the rest of the land of rivers than Konoha. If everyone from Kiri to Suna declared war on them at the same time, the last thing that was going to worry the Fire Daimyo, or the Hokage for that matter, was the status of a border town. Even for years after the war, if they won, they would be focusing on punitive actions to make sure no one got any ideas in the future.

“Well, we’ll have to… I don’t know,” he said. “I think, though, if property values around here go down enough, and people over there start buying us up, that’ll be giving the land to them without a fight.” He knew the townspeople had probably already written, most likely to the legitimate government, about their concerns. Those concerns, of course, would probably be the same as every other border town.

“Well, as long as you’re only an itinerant servant, I wouldn’t worry about it,” he said. “There’ll be some other tradesman with some other place for you to live if you have to move on from here. It’s the people who built things up here that have to concern themselves with the land.”

When he got a chance to leave for the evening, he started to look around town again, letting the transformation jutsu lapse. He walked around until he started hearing a familiar pattern of footsteps, though he could not say exactly how he identified them. Jumping to a nearby rooftop, he caught sight of Raidou walking out from an alley way. Asuma’s team is here? Or is it just one?

Somewhat surprisingly, the Chunin caught sight of him, even though he was hiding well on the roof, and it took all he had not to wave. Is he here looking for Tekka? Samdaime wouldn’t exactly know that Dramada already sent us here.

“It’s a nice early evening,” the kenjutsu specialist said. “I didn’t think I’d see any other ninja here.”

I really wish I knew what he was originally doing here. At least I’d have an excuse to be looking into it.

“You may not,” he said. “After all, you didn’t meet me.”

It was a strange, unhelpful way of talking, but it was necessary if he did not want to be recognized. Raidou was not exactly trapped in a vow of silence, or anything like that, but he was never one to initiate conversations, nor was he inclined to say things that were not strictly necessary. It was easy enough to avoid talking to him whenever.

“Fine.” He walked off in the other direction. He wasn’t going in that way- there’s no way he’s given up on figuring out why I’m here, he just wants me to think he’s done talking to me.

Slinking to another rooftop, he was vaguely aware he was being indirectly tailed, but he was better than that. Using the Hiraishin, he could go all the way back to the secret village if he felt like it, and then he would just have to return to his mask. Getting away would be all too easy. The question is: how can I use the fact that he’s tailing me?

Without an idea about what Tekka had been doing in the border town, he did not have a place to start, but he could at least see if Asuma and Kurenai were anywhere around. Moving slowly on the rooftops and jumping quickly between, he made virtually no noise as he practically crawled through the city, forcing Raidou further behind him, if he did have any intent to tail. He can’t follow too closely or he knows I’ll hear him. I was already looking in his direction when he saw me, so he probably figures my hearing is practiced and sharp.

As if to go along with that very idea, he picked up on something like an argument a few buildings away, where he found the other two Chunin on the team on a nearby rooftop. I’ll have to do this carefully. Using the transformation jutsu, he got close to them as their teammate, whispering for them to keep it down and they both looked at him like they had been caught. This isn’t a mission critical argument, then. It’s personal.

“Do either of you personally know Uchiha Tekka?” he asked. “Have you ever seen him? Do you know what he was doing here?”

It was enough questions such that if the real Raidou had ever asked them as much, he had probably not asked all of them, or not with those exact words. He also had no reason to suspect that they could answer any of them, but they would give him an idea of what they were doing there. They both looked around before answering.

“Why, did you see him?” Asuma asked. “I mean, he’s been in my dad’s office before, but I never really spoke to him.”

“Apparently, he disappeared somewhere around here.”

“That’s not… why weren’t we told about this?” Kurenai said. “Was he on a solo mission? That’s the procedure for a secret mission, and if it was secret, that would explain why we… this was supposed to be simple. We were just supposed to be tailing that weirdo from the Chunin exams.”

Damn. I can’t ask which weirdo, not if I’m supposed to know.

“Seen any sign of him?” he asked.

“No, not in the last two days. It’s like he was never here,” Asuma said after a moment. “We’ve been describing the effects of the eye technique to everyone who’d listen, and no one said anything. I’m starting to think it was a bust.”

“Well, the eighth Shinobi Rule specifically forbids failure,” he said after a moment, then going off in the other direction. I should lead the real Raidou to a different part of town. If they don’t meet up until later, they might not have any reason to mention the conversation to him.

Staying ahead of his pursuer, he allowed himself to be caught in his own appearance, though his identity was still concealed with the mask and cloak. The other Chunin lit upon the roof next to him.

“Why are you here, then?” he asked. “Do you just like dancing around on rooftops?”

“I think the question is- why are you following me?”

It was another unhelpful redirection, but as long as the other shinobi had no explicit reason to try to chase him down and beat the truth out of him, nothing would happen. Even if he did want to give me trouble, I could still instantly move away from here.

He found his own teammates after dark; both were staking out what looked like an antique store. What brought them over here? Never mind, we’ve got something more important to discuss. Closing the distance, he whispered to each of them exactly what had happened.

“Eye technique?” Mado asked.

“It couldn’t have been the Sharingan; I didn’t use it for the whole exam. Besides, they would’ve used my name.”

“You’re a slow learner; right. They know what our kekkei genkai is anyway, though, at least at a functional level,” she muttered. “It had to have been something they didn’t recognize. Was there any point where you saw a dojutsu you didn’t recognize?”

“No,” he said. “You know as well as I do, though, that it could have been something they only saw because of the angle. It could have even been in the second round, though, so…”

“That’s right,” she said. “The other Chunin from the village must have written about the secret technique that they saw from their perspective, and then that twigged something in the intelligence department.” Tobi was silent for a moment and it was as if she could read his expression through the mask. “Oh, come on, you had to realize that Konoha intelligence was going through the reports on missions and the exams, right? In desperation, especially when it’s life or death, a kid might use a technique he or she would normally keep secret.”

“That makes sense,” he said after a moment. Uno had listened without any particular commentary; he was grateful for the chance to be able bounce ideas off someone. “Not all the moves on display would have been public knowledge before that, or at least it’s not a perfect certainty. It had to have an appearance that was distinct from the Sharingan, and the village decided to send these three because they had at least seen it before.”

“Was there ever a point,” Mado started back after turning her eyes back to the antique store. A light went off on the second of two floors. “-when you saw one shinobi defeat someone else without moving?” she asked. “Did it look like it could have been an eye technique?”

“Yeah,” he said after thinking back. “In the third round, we couldn’t always hear what people were saying from the stands. There was this guy named En, who looked like he talked his way out of two whole fights- it made him really unpopular with the spectators.”

“In one of them, he could have been using an advanced dojutsu?” she asked.

“He could’ve used them in both rounds, even just as a threat, if someone knew what it was. Anko would’ve given him a fight at least and that Gotta… I still don’t even know what his kekkei genkai was, but somehow he got matched up against both of them and didn’t have to fight either of them.” He looked over at the store. “Do you want to tell me what this is?”

“Part of the reason the three of us were picked for this mission is because I had some DNA from the target, and our idiot teammate can use his Mangekyo technique to find the rest of Tekka. He’s like a hunting dog.”

“That sounds like a huge help,” he said after a moment. “If something happened to an older Chunin, though, we’d have to have all three of us to face it.” If I know anything about kekkei genkai, though, he might also be able to use my father’s techniques. His nose wrinkled beneath the mask. “Go ahead and laugh if I’m barking up the wrong tree, but part of the reason I was sent out here was to awaken my own Magekyo, wasn’t it?”

“You have to endure a deeply traumatic experience,” she said. “It’s not something you can learn intellectually, which is why you and Uno had a shot in the first place. Unless Dramada is sending you here because you might have to suffer, then he’s not trying to awaken anything except a desire to improve.”

“I don’t know,” he said, again thinking before speaking. “Tekka wasn’t my best friend, but I did look up to him. I remember thinking in the Chunin exams that if he lost against someone else, then obviously I had no shot. If something happened to him…”

“I take it you’re not terribly practiced at handling normal losses,” Mado said. At what looked like a sudden movement in the antique store, Uno closed the distance and the other two followed closely behind, going through the windows at a roll.

Surprisingly, there was no emergency in the room, just a panicking floor manager backing away from a display case. His vocalization ranged from demanding an explanation to begging them not to break anything else depending on who was closest to him as the three of them cleared the room. When there was no immediate threat to anything, they both turned to Uno.

“What the hell?” the older kunoichi asked.

“I saw something,” the one eyed ninja said, walking over to the hastily abandoned display case. It did not seem to have anything overly suspicious, just some old scrolls and books. “What’s over here? Why the sudden reaction?”

“That could mean anything,” Tobi said, rolling his eyes, though the gesture was probably not visible. “Unless there’s a secret switch that opens-“

Uno retrieved a note that had been taped to the underside of the overhanging part of the display case. He seemed confused for a moment before turning it upside down, and then he seemed to read it intently, his one eye going back and forth more times than was really plausible.

“Give me that,” Mado muttered, taking it. “It’s a purchase order. It’s clearly coded. What do you have in the second floor? There isn’t an obvious staircase.”

She was right, and it seemed to make the manager nervous. There was no one else in the building that they had seen, but he was rapidly looking around. What’s the point of that?

“If you’d like, I could just throw an explosive tag straight up and we’ll see what comes down,” the masked ninja suggested.

“What is your authority?” he demanded, seeming to find his courage. “For what reason do you think you can search this business?” All three of them flitted their eyes to red. “Oh, you’re Uchiha,” he said immediately.

“He’s involved with kekkei genkai,” Mado discerned. “None of these antiques are worth anything; the business is a front so that he can talk about what he possesses in code. Tell me, what’s this rare artifact of the Nara clan that you happen to have?”

They followed the antique dealer upstairs, or rather, up a ladder in a closet, and the second floor was loaded with a different kind of display case. Body parts were suspended in fluid, and smaller DNA samples were stored in row after row of test samples.

“It won’t take long to find if you have any Sharingan here,” Uno said.

“I don’t. Please. I know where the chips are stacked. I have a lock of hair from a member of the Nara clan, but that’s the most significant thing I have. The rest of these were just… minor families, mostly from outside Konohagakure, trying to imitate what you accomplished.”

“Do you know of any other strange eyes, other than the Byakugan?” Tobi asked. “I’m starting to think we’re looking for a man with a different sort of kekkei genkai.”

“That’s something I can’t disclose,” he said. “You may know what I am doing here, and I may have no choice but to appeal for my business to be legally approved, but my business partners have not been proven-“

“There’s someone among his business partners, then,” Mado said. “At this point I don’t think he’s clever enough to give us a false lead.”

“Well, sure, but what are we going to do here?” he asked. “Most of these body parts… I doubt they really do anything, not even if you knew what bloodline it was supposed to be.”

“In that case, he’s committing fraud,” Uno said. “If you have business partners and they’re part of this trade, they’re guilty of something as well.”

“Tell us where we can find this business partner of yours and we’ll disappear like nothing ever happened,” Tobi offered. As much as it disgusted him to see all the different organs suspended around him, he was not positive that it was illegal at all to trade cadavers, and he knew that he was not acting in a legal capacity.

“I cannot under any circumstances reveal-“

Mado stabbed him in the temple.

“We’ll go through his records. Tobi, at least you can read, so I’ll have you take care of that.”

“You basically just committed murder.”

“I know that. He saw our eyes and there’s no point to keeping him alive any longer. Laws regarding shinobi are effectively unenforceable-“

“They’ll send a team after us,” he said. “That counts as enforcing the law. Besides, that’s not the point. You clearly just killed him when he was annoying you when we could have kept trying to get the truth out of him. The trick to any interrogation is persistence.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Uno said. “The dude’s already dead. Just load him up into one of these cases and we’ll make it look like he was here the whole time.”

“Are you retarded?” Mado asked. “If he ran an antique store downstairs, probably buying old pieces of junk for more than he could ever sell them, someone is going to recognize him.”

“Not without the head,” the one-eyed ninja said, cutting it off with a razor-sharp blade from his pack over a tall display case, dropping the rest of the body in unceremoniously. Stuffing the head into his pack, he shrugged as Tobi stared at him. While there would probably be enough people who could reasonably guess whose body it was if they saw it, it was entirely possible that the authorities investigating would not have any idea, and not know the right people to ask. Without the head, he can’t be positively identified by someone who just saw him before.

“Here’s your half of the documentation,” the kunoichi said, handing him a stack of papers. “Uno, find some place to put the head, and fix the windows. I don’t care what you do, put a tarp up to make it look like they’re getting fixed or something- nothing that raises alarms for the next few days.”

“Roger.”

“I wasn’t finished yet. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“No promises.” He disappeared.

“At least he found something real,” Mado said the moment after, sighing and looking back to the stack of papers. “The trail to Tekka must have gone cold, or for some reason he wasn’t sure where to go next. It’s possible that there were traces of him all over the place.”

“I think I found something,” Tobi said after a moment. “I was looking under dojutsu and there’s something I’ve never seen before. It’s called the Ketsuryugan.”

“Blood flow,” she muttered, looking over his shoulder and scanning the document quickly. “It’s comparable to the Sharingan in terms of genjutsu.”

“According to this, it comes from the Chinoike clan,” he said. “If we knew what those guys looked like, we’d know who it was. Everyone from the Chunin exams looked at least a little different.”

“There wasn’t anyone with this clan name?”

“Not all clans work the same way,” he said after a moment. “Sometimes, people use a family name instead of a clan name. It could have also been someone whose mother married out or something.”

“It’s not a clan that’s native to Konoha,” Mado said after a moment. “I’ve never heard of them before, and I researched the clans here extensively. For them to take part in Cha’s exam, though, they had to at least be allied with us.”

“Well, it wasn’t the Oto guys; I don’t think they’d ever use a dojutsu… it wouldn’t have been the tea ninjas either; I saw their fights and… it’s En. He was from Yu, and he’s the one who seemed to be using a dojutsu.”

“Excellent. We have a description.”

As confident as his teammate was, Tobi did not think it would be so simple.

The Shinobi Rules

Silirt

Chapter 49: Hidden from the Hidden

Chapter Text

The masked ninja returned to the fisherman’s house after midnight and threw himself in bed, but he could not sleep just yet. Somehow it’s different when there’s no way to tell yourself that it was an enemy combatant. They were trained, he knew, to fight other shinobi; after all, the only enemy that could defeat one, was another. The targets at which they through shuriken as far back as the academy were always ‘armed’, which was to say they were decorated to be distinguished from the civilian targets.

“That Gatou bastard was a civilian,” he muttered to himself. “What difference did that make, though; he had shinobi and samurai at his command…”

He had, as he might have expected, no answer for himself, not as he was tired and falling asleep. Ever since he read fictional stories, he was aware that he did not live in one, even if he could still hope to improve things. After all, if everyone used the excuse that the world was full of evil, then it would always remain like that.

Rising shortly after the tradesman, he strung out a long net between two poles. To hang in the middle of a powerfully moving river, the poles had to be driven into the riverbed firmly, and the net between them had to be practically fluid. There were also regulations about how long a net could be out, as well as how large the holes in the net had to be.

“Thanks, Tobi. I thought I was going to have you sharpening knives, but it looks like you know a thing or two about fishing.”

“I come from a few days walking up the river,” he lied. “I was doing more or less the same thing over there.” There was no expectation that he would be pressed about his background. He was grateful that the fisherman was so nice, but really even if things were quiet between them, it would have been the same. The two of them ate a thin soup for breakfast and then he went up to shingle the roof; apparently there were a few that came loose recently.

I guess that’s how everyone else responds to the existence of shinobi. There’s no point in trying to figure out how it happened or who did it. As he worked, he had a thought that he was lucky to at least have moral qualms about his job, which was really a way of life, rather than just be one of the countless victims of the whole system, but strangely being as fortunate as he was did not make it any easier to sleep.

When he was done, he canceled the transformation jutsu and stared at his pack for a moment before deciding he could come back for it, even if he would not be back there to sleep again. What he could not afford was being weighed down when he had to fight, and that was starting to look like it was going to be soon. I want to see my father’s techniques.

It was a strange thought that seemed to come from nowhere as he landed on a rooftop from the ground, taking care not to land on the side of a shingle. Operating in daylight was a risk, but he had heard from the others that they were not going to wait for night to fall, not if the other team was operating nocturnally, which was a pretty standard procedure, whether the mission was official or not. Because they were going to be seen, they would have to refrain from activating the Sharingan and being picked out as Uchiha. We’re lucky Uno seems to favor a green, hooded cloak that doesn’t make him look like anyone in particular. Black, he knew, was a favorite color of the clan, and both he and Mado carried on the tradition at the moment, though for him it was actually because he was trying to disguise himself.

“You would do better with a painted mask,” the kunoichi said as soon as he found her. “It would add to your mystique.”

“I’m not trying to add to my- I’m trying to blend into the darkness. I stole this cloak from a cadre of choir boys in Kiri. I’m lucky no one recognized it as their standard uniform.”

She shrugged, the separated top she wore over a fine layer of chain mail moving with her shoulders. That has to be on purpose. It was a lesser-known fact that in addition to kunoichi specific classes, and usually at the same time, the male students were learning to recognize their tactics as well as charm the occasional mission-relevant lady.

“Most likely, it’s only a uniform because they all have to wear something that eliminates distinction from them,” she speculated. “They hide their identities as a way of teaching themselves to swallow their pride. Of course, that in itself gives them a distinction, but I suppose there’s no avoiding that.”

Uno arrived shortly after.

“I’ve finally narrowed down the most recent clues,” he said. “It’s lucky that body part salesman had a Chinoike spleen or something- he probably doesn’t even realize where the kekkei genkai are stored.”

“It’s not that simple,” Mado said, shaking her head. “Even with just a finger nail, there is a theoretical way of reconstructing the entire body. If and when that ever happens, the Uchiha are going to have to be at the front of that trend and we’ll have to quash any efforts to replicate it.”

The three of them were on the move going out of the north of town. Basically, the original target had been all over the place and it was hard to tell where he had been most recently, especially since the whole thing was going faint. With the additional information that the mission probably had something to do with Oyashiro En, and some DNA that was similar enough to his, Uno tracked the places where the two of them met and concluded that one or both of them went north out of town.

It’s deeper into Konoha, at least. There’d be other factors to consider if they went across the border. He noticed he never particularly liked it when a mission grew more complicated.

“How far ahead are they?” he asked as he briefly stopped on the same branch as the one-eyed ninja. Trying to expand his own sensory projection had proved to be a waste of chakra.

“We should be practically on top of them, though for me that could be upwards of an hour behind. It’s more important at this point-“ They jumped to another branch. “-that they don’t find out we’re following them.”

He tried to relay the message to Mado, but it seemed like she either already heard and decided she did not care, or she decided she would speed up before he could tell her not to do so. What’s her deal? I still don’t know what her deal is, at least with this mission.

When he caught up with her, they were waiting above a hole in the ground, covered almost seamlessly with a circle of earth. The only indication that there was a hole there was that there was a smell coming up from the ground. The kunoichi’s brow wrinkled slightly.

“Either someone got sloppy, or that’s what he wants us to think. Both of you are implicitly under orders to be on guard here. Tekka’s life may depend on how we handle this.”

“We know,” Tobi whispered, moving the circle of earth as he landed right next to it, detecting no fuinjutsu. Even if there were defenses, we would still have to make our approach, and it’s better to move sooner rather than later.

The only advantage they had, he figured, was that what they were doing was completely unexpected. The three of them silently dropped down the hole into a long hallway. Whoever built this had to be using earth jutsu… I just don’t believe it’s a rock ninja, though. What do they have to gain here? Do they want the Sharingan?

There were voices down the corridor, two, both male, though one was about as casual as it could be, and the other was labored. Careful to approach silently, the masked ninja almost wanted to teach the other two the technique that canceled out his smell, but he doubted either of them were interested, after Mado proved that she could overcome it.

“It’s strange.” The voice was like that of an old man. “I had not thought that I would meet another with my ambition.” The three Uchiha were stopped outside a door to an unidentifiable room.

“Is it so rare?” the other voice asked. It was much younger, and specifically, it belonged to En. If it’s just one Chunin and an old man in there, we can take control over the situation. We might be able to protect Tekka if he’s still alive.

He watched as the kunoichi activated her own Mangekyo Sharingan, though her body seemed to blink out of existence. What the hell is that? Is that a genjutsu? Moments later, she was back outside the door, her back against the wall. She was no longer using the dojutsu, but it was incredibly deceptive to say that her eyes were normal. He had never seen such a scared expression before.

Looking over at Uno, it seemed like he was even quieter, and he wanted to be further away from the door, but it was not clear why, not since he had not turned invisible and used the chance to gain more information. Well, if I’m the only one who wants to listen-

He was about to look into the room when a hand pulled him back by the neck. Mado was not permitting anyone to take any risks like that. Her expression told him that they were waiting, and that was backed up by a hand sign. Rather like the ones they used for ninjutsu, students at the academy learned signs for silent communication, and she was using one for ‘wait’. Wait until when?

“I would have thought you would stay with your clan.”

“The Chinoike have a powerful kekkei genkai, but I predict that it will not be enough in the long run. Perhaps you did not hear about this, but we used to live in Rai, and the Lightning Daimyo wanted to be rid of us, and they sent the local ninja, but in such a high concentration, our dojutsu were effectively unbeatable, or so we thought. Bearing no ill will to our overlords, we sent the shinobi back unharmed, well, beaten rather soundly, but alive and with no lasting injuries.”

“Truly.” He coughed. “How merciful.”

“We had thought that it would work, but the insult would not stand, apparently. I really have no idea why they wanted us gone in the first place. Anyway, they figured they needed something to counter our special eyes, so they contracted out the Uchiha clan to take care of it; they managed to drive us out of our homes, all the way to the land of hot water, one of their allies. I can only think that they disagreed with the lightning lord’s decision to get rid of us, so they came up with a way of sparing us, while keeping the Ketsuryugan for themselves.”

“Clever,” the older man observed. “I expect the rest of your clan did not see it that way.”

“We were mercenaries during the clan wars. You would think that we would not have a concept of loyalty, and in a sense, you would be right. The result, however, was that we thought other clans possessed genuine loyalty.” He paused, perhaps for some gesture or effect. “In an event, that was where I was born and I realized that we were not so much powerful and in relationships with powerful allies, so much as big fish in a small pond.”

“They call the Valley of Hell, where you live.”

“It’s as uninhabitable as it sounds,” he said. “Barely anything grows there, and yet, we could make it, as long as we kept our numbers down and as long as no one stole anything. It was a perfect situation for our master, the first Hokage.”

“Ah, yes. This was before the war, then. He would always have enough of you on hand if he needed you, but you would never be able to exceed certain… numbers.”

“We developed on the Ketsuryugan and nothing more. In truth, I expect it is substantially more powerful than it ever was before. My family, though, was one of the ones that wanted revenge on the Uchiha clan for our exile. Understand that in the Valley of Hell, every man must justify the food he consumes.”

Tobi was sickened, imagining it. Forced to live so close together and depend on a small pool of resources, conflicts would start easily. Each time a baby was born, he or she would have to be born to two masters of the kekkei genkai, ensuring that the next generation of every family was strong. Even that wouldn’t be enough, though.

[theforgottenmcrmy]

After All (Part 16/?)

Pairing: Riff X OC Jet Girl

Warnings: Explicit Language, Racism, Suggestions/Non-Explicit Descriptions of Violence, Reference to Minor Character Death, Mild Sexism, Angst

Summary: There was no telling what the guy was capable of, and Riff knew he had a tendency to pack heat. After all, they had already witnessed him shoot another man point blank.

Word Count: 14,000 ish.

DISCLAIMER

Please note that this is a reimagining of the film West Side Story (2021) and as a result is slightly AU.

Masterlist /// Part 1 /// Part 15 /// Part 16 /// Part 17

A/N: We interrupt the Shark drama to bring you a semi-chaotic group date, some heavy non-Shark related drama, and a major emotional realization. The plan is to get back to the scheduled programing next chapter.

One of these days, I’ll start sticking to my 8k-12k goal length per chapter, but I struggled to find a good place to cut this one in half. I hope you all can forgive me for it and aren’t too upset/annoyed.

As always, thank you all so very much for you support and kind/encouraging words. It really means the world to me to know that the fic I’m putting so much effort into is appreciated by you all. I hope you had a good weekend, and I hope you have a great week! :)

Part 16: The Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing

It was shortly after 10 PM on the following Friday when Tony finally made it to the park.

He had actually meant to arrive at the park a few minutes early to see whether Riff had brought the rest of the Jets along for some sort of guilt-trip bombardment.

But Tony couldn’t leave until he knew for certain that Valentina wouldn’t hear him. She’d been particularly chatty after Doc’s closed that evening. She’d made herself a drink and offered him one too. On any other night, Tony would’ve gladly taken her up on the offer, but his curiosity as to why Riff wanted to meet with him outweighed it.

Even though Tony had turned down her offer, it wasn’t as though he could just stroll out the front door- Valentina would question what he was up to at that time of night, and Tony couldn’t come up with any “good” reason that would be even remotely believable.

If Valentina got suspicious, there was a chance she’d mention something about it to his parole officer. Tony didn’t think she’d actually do it, but it was better to not even take the chance.

Fortunately for him, Valentina only made it through about two glasses of rum before calling it a night. Tony had been able to use some empty shelves as a makeshift ladder to hoist himself up, sneak out the metal grate door on the ceiling, and climb out onto the sidewalk outside Doc’s storefront shortly after.

When Tony finally made it to the park, he was mildly surprised to find Riff already waiting for him. He was alone, meaning there were no other Jets, but he was also alone in the park outright. Given the lateness of the hour, no other patrons were around.

Tony couldn’t not notice the dramatic change of the wall as he crossed the park and made his way over to Riff. Riff’s back was facing him, but when Tony was just a few yards away, Riff turned around to make sure it was who he’d been expecting.

For a moment, the two stood there in silence and simply stared at the mural.

“Ya want one?”

Tony looked at Riff, who was holding a box of cigarettes out to him. Tony hesitated before finally relenting, grabbing the box, and taking a cigarette. A moment later, Riff exchanged the box for his lighter. Tony lit his cigarette quickly before handing the lighter back to Riff as well.

Tony took a moment to relish the first few drags. It had been a while since he last smoked. Smoking had been allowed in prison, but the cigarettes came at a price, and most of the time, other items of commissary took precedence. Once he was released, he’d purposefully avoided buying any cigarettes in an effort to save some money. But the first few drags of the cigarette from Riff had him thinking that maybe he could indulge in the habit once again… and just limit himself instead.

“So,” Tony began as he exhaled some smoke, “Why’d ya wanna meet?”

Riff nodded his head towards the wall and took a drag of his own cigarette. “Thought you should see what they did to the wall.”

“Why the note? Ya couldn’t just tell me yourself?”

“Every time I go to talk to you at Doc’s, I get into it with the old witch. Thought I’d do us both a favor this way. I don’t start fightin’ with her, and she has no idea that you’re even here.”

Tony took the moment of silence that followed to fully take in the wall. He’d seen it from across the park, but seeing it up close was something else entirely. The gray was long gone and replaced with white. A lot of the white was covered with various blues and reds. Somewhere underneath all the new colors was the cross he’d painted in blue paint almost five years back.

It had been a little ironic to paint a cross to mark the beginning of his journey of starting up the Jets. But his ma had been particularly adamant about forcing him to go to church at the time, and wasn’t God supposed to be a forgiving guy anyways?

Looking back on it, Tony wished he would’ve paid more attention when his ma had dragged him along to church. He missed her. If he was being honest, he missed his father too.

Tony hoped it wouldn’t be too late to repair his relationship with them, or even with the man upstairs, but he was already preparing himself to accept the fact that it might have been.

“Who did it?“ Tony asked. “The Sharks?”

Riff shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah, it does.”

Riff scoffed. “No, it doesn’t.” He threw his cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. “Whoever it was is pro-PRs, whether they are one themselves or not.”

Tony had to admit that Riff made a point, but he knew telling him that would only fuel Riff’s ego father. “Alright, but it’s no reason to up and start a war-“

“War ain’t the word for it,” Riff interrupted. “At least, not yet. But, you should know that things are only gonna heat up from here. You should know what goin’ on around ya.”

Tony frowned. “I already told ya, I’m stayin’ out of it.”

“Ya know, you ‘stayin’ out of it’ and not choosing a side is choosing a side,” Riff snapped with a scowl.

Tony said nothing. He watched as Riff took a moment to calm himself and let out a shaky sigh.

“We need you, Tony,” Riff confessed, his voice much quieter than just a moment before. “I need you back. Come back, help me lead the Jets. Help me navigate all this crazy shit.”

Riff sounded sincere, and when it came to Riff, Tony had never had an easy time telling him no. Riff was his brother. His stubborn, narrow-minded brother, but his brother nonetheless.

For the briefest of moments, Tony contemplated taking Riff up on his offer. If Tony came back to the Jets, maybe he’d have a chance of keeping Riff’s head on straight. Riff rarely listened to anyone’s advice, but Tony had been mildly successful at talking him down a few metaphorical bridges in the past.

But Tony knew that if Riff made up his mind to eventually challenge the Sharks to a rumble, he wouldn’t have much luck talking him out of it. Tony had been on board with each of the rumbles previously. Tony hadn’t even bothered to try and talk Riff out of them at the time, so he wasn’t confident in his ability to be able to do it now if Riff decided it was the only solution to dealing with the Sharks. And since Riff had already decided three separate times beforehand that a rumble was the only solution to the struggle over turf, Tony knew he wouldn’t be afraid to make that decision a fourth time.

In addition to all of this, Tony had heard stories from Valentina and Roxie. The Jets didn’t always follow Riff’s orders- a lot of them had caused trouble with the Sharks without Riff even being present. They were growing bold and were much too comfortable resting on the laurels of the gang's past successes in defending their territory. They probably thought they were untouchable. Up until then, they had been.

But, at least from what Tony was able to gather from what he’d heard from Valentina and around the neighborhood, the Sharks were different. They had an emotional edge and resilience that the Bishops, the Emeralds, and the Egyptian Kings didn’t necessarily have. They weren’t encroaching on the Jets territory because they wanted to, they were moving in because they had to. Tony didn’t know much about them, but he did know that they wouldn’t go down nearly as easily as the other gangs.

“You can’t fully control the Jets, not all the time, and not even if you wanted to,” Tony informed Riff plainly. “Ya know how they are- they got minds of their own. What would me bein’ there do?”

Riff was silent.

His silence gave Tony his answer. Riff didn’t need Tony back for the Jets’ sake, but for his.

Different approach.

“What does Roxie think about all of this, huh?” Tony asked him calmly. “What does she think ‘bout you runnin’ around and fightin’ with the Sharks? She told me ya promised to try and stay outta trouble.”

“I did,” Riff admitted, “But things have gotten worse, and this wall is just part of it. Stayin’ out of trouble ain’t an option no more.” Riff shoved his hands in his jean pockets as he looked away from Tony and up at the wall once more. “She won’t like it, but she’ll come ‘round.”

“I don’t know ‘bout that,” Tony disagreed carefully.

Riff turned back around and gave him an annoyed look. “This kinda stuff ain’t new for me, and like it or not, it ain’t new for you either.” Riff pointed down ground for emphasis. “At the end of the day, this is who we are. And if Roxie wants to be with me, she’ll find a way to deal with it.”

Tony dropped his cigarette and stepped on it until it was extinguished. “I don’t wanna be like this no more,” he insisted seriously. “And as for Roxie- that ain’t fair. Ya know that ain’t fair, Riff. I think you’re ‘bout to go down a bad path, one ya may not be able to come back from, and you’re draggin’ Roxie down along with ya.”

Riff pursed his lips and glared at Tony through narrowed eyes. “Ya know, normally when a fella’s friend gets back together with his girl, that friend is happy for him.”

“If you two are happy, good. If yous can find a way to make it work, I’m happy for ya,” Tony acknowledged. “But none of us are normal. Nothin’ ‘bout our lives is normal. Roxie was tryin’ to make something of herself-“

“She still is-“

“And you’re the leader of a gang, Riff. A gang who’s about to go headfirst into a turf war over piles of rubble!”

A deafening silence followed, and Tony realized too late that he had struck a chord with Riff.

“Is that how ya see it?” Riff demanded. Though he was calm on the outside, Tony could tell he was likely seething inside. “You think it’s all about the turf?”

“You gonna tell me it ain’t?”

“No, it is. But it’s ‘bout more than that- it’s about keepin’ the Jets together,” Riff declared. “It’s about stickin’ together. If we don’t got each other, then what kinda future do any of us have?”

Tony took a moment to let Riff’s words start to sink in. “I’m still here for you, and you could still have Roxie.”

“You and I both were given crappy hand outs in life. I’ve lived with it all these years, but I’m tired of it. It’s ‘bout time to fight for what I want, to fight for everythin’ I want,” Riff asserted.

Tony merely watched Riff. He already knew that the conversation was a lost cause. There’d be no getting through to Riff, not now.

“And if you can’t understand that,” Riff continued, “then this conversation is over.”

With one last cool glare, Riff took a few strides and walked past Tony quickly.

Tony turned around and watched as Riff headed across the park. “Riff, come on!” he called after him. “We ain’t even done talkin’!”

“Well I am,” Riff replied. He stopped in his tracks and turned around to face Tony once more. “Whenever ya wanna come down off that high horse of yours to remember who you are and where you came from, ya know where to find me,” Riff said neutrally. “I’ll see ya around.”

Riff turned and started walking away again. Tony called his name a few more times, but eventually gave up.

Tony had hoped for a more productive conversation with Riff that night. Instead, he feared things had only been made worse between them.

————————————————————————————

So close, and yet so far.

Roxie sat on her bed and began to count the money for a third time.

When she was finished, she was hit with the indisputable conclusion that she would not earn enough money in time.

Tuition for the fall semester was due soon, so she’d have to send the money off within the following week or two. But unless she came across a money tree somewhere, there wouldn’t be a full tuition payment to send.

Roxie was disappointed by the realization, but a part of her always knew that it was a possibility. Besides, if she continued to save her money like she had been throughout the summer so far, re-enrolling in classes for the spring semester wasn’t too far outside the realm of possibility.

A few weeks had passed and before anyone knew it, summer was on the decline. There were still some hot days, but for the most part, the evenings had cooled down enough to make them tolerable.

Roxie had spent most of her free days at the auto shop, helping out with whatever she could. Sometimes flirting and talking with Riff took precedence over actual work on the books, but it was all about finding a good balance.

The important thing was that the books were all cleaned up, and Roxie felt confident that Riff had a handle on them. In all honesty, her assistance was most likely not even needed, but what was the point of telling Riff that? It’s not like she wouldn’t have wanted to spend the extra time with him. As long as the books were kept up with and Riff was allowed time to work, that was what mattered.

Riff actually worked, too. So did Diesel, Snowboy, and Gee-Tar. Every now and then, another Jet would help out around the shop for a few days here and there. 

Business seemed to be picking up significantly. Riff made payments on the loans and outstanding taxes and was even able to start paying the guys on a somewhat consistent basis. It was under-the-table payments for now, but once the shop was entirely out of the red, Roxie would see to it that legitimate paychecks would follow.

True to his word, Riff had been allocating some of the incoming profit to her. Roxie didn’t want to take it at all, but Riff had insisted. “Just ‘cause we’re seein’ each other don’t mean ya shouldn’t get paid for your work. Ya really ought to sell yourself more, Roxie.”

Roxie kept the money she received from work at the shop separately from the money she earned from her job at the factory. The money from work at the factory was for rent and saving up for tuition. But the money from the shop was to be held for something she wanted, not necessarily needed. Since she had more fun working the shop, it only seemed fitting that that money should be used as she saw fit.

Some of the money went towards the dates she had with Riff. At least once a week, whenever Roxie didn’t have to work in the evening, the two of them would go out.

Not all their dates had cost money. Roxie was perfectly content with the evenings when she and Riff would simply walk around the neighborhood. Time away from the shop and the rest of the Jets did them both some good.

However, some dates, such as trips to their diner, or the movie they saw the previous week, required cash. When they first started going out, Riff had insisted on paying for everything, but Roxie quickly nipped that idea. They were both strapped for cash, and it simply wasn’t fair for Riff to make his own situation worse on her behalf. Riff had protested the idea of alternating who paid for each date at first, but when Roxie explained her thoughts behind it, he finally agreed begrudgingly. Roxie wouldn’t bring it up to him, but taking turns paying for the dates made her feel good about where they stood. It made her feel like they were true partners.

The tension between them was growing rapidly. Hand-holding while walking almost everywhere they went as a pair was not unusual. In fact, the Jets often teased Riff for it. Riff never gave them the satisfaction of a response. In private, they were perfectly comfortable with one another. Typical kisses started to linger a bit longer than necessary and spontaneous make out sessions grew more and more heated, but nothing more had occurred. Whenever the moment to take things to the next level striked, Roxie was completely open to the idea and willing to embrace it.

With each day spent with Riff, her potential future became clearer and clearer. It was their future. If only she could keep Riff alive and out of trouble long enough for him to be a part of it.

Even though Roxie and Riff seemed to be getting along wonderfully and were closer than they had ever been before, there was some aspect of their relationship that left something to be desired. She basically had to force information regarding the Jets’ activities out of him. Besides Riff, the only concrete clues she had about the current state of what was going on with the Sharks was what she managed to overhear from the rest of the guys. And from what she heard, things weren’t going well at all. If anything, things between the Jets and the Sharks had only grown worse.

Roxie wasn’t sure why Riff was so reluctant to be honest with her about everything that was going on. Maybe it was a trust issue, or perhaps it was as she originally thought and that he knew she wouldn’t approve. Her feelings about that hadn’t changed. If the physical danger Riff would be putting himself in wasn’t concerning enough, there was also the likelihood that it would only be a matter of time before the cops really started to take notice of the Jets and the Sharks power struggle, with or without the nonverbal pact the gangs had made about not involving the cops. Not a day went by where Roxie didn’t have just a little bit of worry that Schrank or Krupke or some other officer would barge into the auto shop and take Riff away to god knows where.

Despite this, she bit her tongue. It was probably a shot in the dark and it most definitely was a long-game strategy, but Roxie believed that if she was patient enough with Riff, he would begin to let her in. And once he did, she could only hope that she would have enough sway over him to talk him out of the one thing that seemed imminent.

A rumble.

Tony thought her strategy was silly and that it was a lost cause. Roxie still visited him at Doc’s on the occasion, and when she did, Tony had no problems about voicing his opinion on the subject, either.

But Velma and the rest of the girls provided her with more than enough reassurance that her effort would hopefully pay off. Velma had introduced her to a few of the other girls she hadn’t met yet- namely, Maxie, Number’s girlfriend, Tat, Balkan’s girlfriend, and Dot, A-Rab’s girlfriend. It had been over the course of the past few weeks, and were primarily through casual meetups at the park or at dinners with her and her father at their apartment. Maxie’s, Tat’s, and Dot’s personalities differed greatly, but they each seemed to have traits that complimented the Jet that they were involved with. Dot had suggested that the thought of a rumble was exciting, but Maxie and Tat admitted that the idea worried them more than anything.

Roxie was curious about where Rhonda and Karen stood on the issue. However, it was likely that she wouldn’t be able to discuss the topic with them that night, since Velma had arranged for a group date and Roxie would be just introduced to them. But Roxie was hopeful that the introduction would go well and open the door for another opportunity for a chat with both or either of them away from the ears of the guys.

Roxie was a little saddened by the thought that the diner she and Riff frequented would be the setting for the group date later that evening, but when Velma asked where she and Riff had been going on dates lately, she didn’t want to lie to her.

Even though they wouldn’t be alone, at least Riff would be by her side. And she knew that she would have to break the news that she wouldn't be going back to school for the upcoming semester to him at some point, but she knew a group date would not be the best setting for that.

At least it would be an excuse to meet up with him privately at a later time.

————————————————————————————

“Dear Mr. Edward Lorton,

Our records show that multiple attempts have been made to contact you regarding the seriousness of the late payments under your contract.

While we have received incremental payments on your account over the last two months, your failure to make a full payment in its entirety constitutes a default. As a result, we have the right to demand payment from you in the amount of the entire balance of the contract.

To avoid any legal action being sought against you, we ask that you pay our settlement offer listed below immediately.

If you make this payment within 30 days, we will agree not to accelerate the balance due on your contract. Future payments can then be made according to their scheduled due dates.

Failure to make the required payment could result in legal action against you for the balance owed on the contract. In such an event, you will be responsible for any costs, including attorneys fees, for enforcing the contract.

We urge you to address this very serious matter today. Please send your payment to the address listed below in the amount of-”

Riff’s eyes widened at number. He stared at it for a few moments, trying to confirm that he was not misreading it. When he accepted that the amount requested was what it was, he sighed dejectedly and placed the final past-due notice for one of his uncle’s loans on his desk.

Even though the letter had been addressed to him, his uncle would be no help. Riff hadn’t heard from him in months, and he doubted he’d return a call any sooner if Riff left a message with his aunt regarding a potential legal action that was going to be filed against him. Maybe his uncle thought he could avoid legal troubles if the creditors were unable to locate him.

Unfortunately, Riff didn’t have such a luxury. If the creditors or some fancy suits they hired came knocking on the shop’s door and found Riff and the other guys living there without his uncle actually present, they’d be swiftly shown the door and thrown out onto the street. Where would he go then? Trying to find a new place to live was something that Riff was not looking forward to adding onto his list of current problems.

Riff opened one of the desk drawers. He pushed some various items at the front of the drawer aside in order to get access to the back of the drawer. He reached inside the drawer and withdrew the small stash of personal cash he had.

He didn’t even need to count it to know that it wasn’t even close to the amount that had been requested.

The shop had been doing better, and business was picking up. He’d even been able to start paying Gee-Tar, Snowboy, and Diesel for their work. Riff made sure Roxie got a cut too, and he was adamant about making sure she actually took the money and didn’t try to sneak her cut back into his stash when he wasn’t looking.

Riff had even paid himself a little, but only after Roxie berated him about it. All the money he had saved from his own personal cut was stashed in the drawer. He wasn’t quite sure what he was saving the money for, other than food and the dates with Roxie as it was needed. If he was smart, he’d cut back on any frivolous spending and start saving for a considerable down payment that he could use in order to convince his uncle that he could buy the shop from him.

After everyone had been paid, the rest of the profits typically went towards any of the shop’s miscellaneous expenses and towards payments on the outstanding loans and taxes. When the shop’s profit was divided up, any money to be used for those purposes never had time to make it into Riff’s drawer- it was mailed out immediately. As a caveat of Riff deciding to focus on paying back in full the past due taxes and significantly decreasing the amount owed on two of the loans, he must have neglected to submit complete payments for the third loan. Unfortunately for him, the third loan was the remaining balance on his uncle’s mortgage for the shop. Looking back on it, it was a decently big oversight. Maybe he’d have to send in his measly amount of personal cash he’d stashed in order to try and pull together a complete payment. It wasn’t exactly fair, but it was his fault for getting distracted.

And he couldn’t have helped it. Roxie had probably chided him about making sure to send payment in for that loan several times, but since she was around, her words probably went in one ear and right out the other. She was far too distracting.

Between her time at the shop, walking her home from work at night, and their weekly dates, to put it simply, Riff couldn’t seem to get enough time with Roxie. As soon as they parted ways for the night, more often than not Riff wanted to turn around and talk to her about anything in order to get just a few more minutes alone with her.

The tension growing between them was undeniable. Riff had never considered himself one who needed physical contact from anyone, but when it came to her, he would take just about every opportunity that presented itself to hold her hand. Kisses between them felt like some sort of electricity, but Riff didn’t mind feeling shocked. When she embraced him, as she usually did before they parted ways, and if privacy allowed them to do so, the places on his skin where her hands rested felt warm, too warm. Riff had a good feeling about what it was eventually leading to. If that’s where things were headed, he would be on board, but he’d follow her lead.

Previously, Riff had hardly ever bothered to think about the future. Most days he knew there wasn’t one for him. But since he got back together with Roxie, he caught a glimpse of his future every now and then. A future with her. Their future. The brief flashes were enough to warm the icy walls he’d put up inside, and as pointless as it was, he found himself wanting it. However, the glimpses he saw were quickly fading, became seldom seen, and were getting more and more clouded by the Sharks moving in on the neighborhood. Soon, Riff feared the glimpses of that future with her would be gone for good.

To say things were heating up was an understatement. Someone from one group would get jumped one day, and then there would be retaliation from the other group the day after. Back and forth, back and forth. Sprinkle some occasional run-ins at the park that ended with some exchanged blows, and the state of affairs between the Jets and Sharks was quickly heading for a breaking point.

Riff had seen such a pattern occur three times before. The first time was with the Bishops. The second time was with Emeralds. The third time was with the Egyptian Kings. All three of those occurrences had ended with the same exact conclusion.

A rumble.

Roxie had tried to pry information out of Riff regarding what all was going on between the Jets and the Sharks, but most of the time he refused to budge. What was the point? Roxie would only disapprove if she knew the details of it all. Besides, she wasn’t entirely kept in the dark- she was smart enough to figure most of it out herself, and she probably heard whispers about what was going on around the neighborhood. If anything serious would ever come up, like a rumble, Riff would tell her. But as for little skirmishes here and there? That knowledge he’d keep to himself.

Riff knew he made a promise to her to try and do better in life. He could infer that she meant no troublemaking, stealing, and absolutely no picking fights with the Sharks. But when Riff made that promise, he had severely underestimated how difficult it would be to keep. The struggle between the Jets and the Sharks had already been going on for too long before he even told her those words, and the hostile feelings the gangs held for one another now ran too deep.

He’d continue to make small concessions wherever he could, but even he knew it was likely to be a losing battle.

Maybe Tony had been right- the guys had a mind of their own. Riff wouldn’t be able to ever fully control them, even if he wanted to. Maybe not even if Tony was back by his side.

Riff hadn’t talked to Tony for several weeks, not since their meeting at the wall that one Friday night. He’d seen him in passing through Doc’s window. But Riff hadn’t gone inside. If Tony was so adamant about putting some distance between him and the rest of the guys, Riff would make it even easier for him by keeping away from him too. Tony said he’d be there for him, but Riff didn’t think it was fair for him to keep being all buddy buddy with Tony while he refused to come around and see any of the other guys.

If Riff kept some distance from Tony, and Tony was serious about being there for him and maintaining the friendship that went back many, many years, Tony would eventually cave. The Jets were family, and they came along with Riff.

Tony should’ve known that.

Besides, Riff would be lying if he hadn’t taken some offense to the concerns Tony voiced about his relationship with Roxie. Even if Riff wasn’t able to prevent a rumble, or even control the rest of the Jets, he’d find a way to keep Roxie safe from it all.

Tony really should’ve known that.

But whether it was Tony’s obligation to Riff as a friend or his worry over Roxie, Riff felt pretty confident that if the state of things with the Sharks continued as they were and if a rumble became necessary, Tony would come back. Riff would only need to ask him.

He was counting on it.

But the problems with the Sharks would have to be temporarily forgotten for an evening. The money problems could be set aside for the night, too, but Riff knew he would have to bring it to Roxie’s attention eventually. She’d probably find out on her own if he didn’t inform her beforehand, so it’d be best to be upfront with her about it. However, that evening was not likely to provide him an opportunity to have that conversation with her.

Velma had organized a group date for a handful of them. Riff’s never been a particular fan of group dates. They were almost always just an excuse for the girls to chit chat as normal, only with their fellas beside them. He was also a little sour at the thought of his date night for the week having some additional parties tag along to rob him of any additional alone time he might get with Roxie.

However, it had been Velma’s idea, and although Roxie also may have been looking forward to spending some time alone, Riff knew how important her friendship with Velma was to her. And if setting his own discomfort and annoyance aside would keep the peace between them and not create any additional problems with Diesel by him refusing to go along with Velma’s idea, Riff would shut up and go along with it in a heartbeat.

Besides, they’d have plenty of alone time some other night. He could always bring up the issue regarding the loan to Roxie then… if they didn’t find some other way to preoccupy themselves.

————————————————————————————

Rhonda and Action led the way down the sidewalk. Karen and Ice trailed behind them. They were followed by Diesel and Velma.

Velma’s arm was wrapped around Diesel’s, but that didn’t prevent her from looking over her shoulder every minute or so to look at Roxie and Riff.

Roxie noticed this very shortly after they started the trek over to the diner. Every time she caught Velma glancing at them, she’d shoot her a look, but Velma seemed insistent on ensuring that they were following the group.

But something else distracted her from Velma’s antics. Riff had been quiet, far too quiet. He had barely said more than two words to her, save when he first greeted her with a hello and a kiss outside her apartment. They’d been walking for well over fifteen minutes, and he had yet to say anything else.

Riff seemed distracted, which was becoming more and more of a common occurrence. Sometimes he’d share what was bothering him. Normally, he’d spill his guts and talk to her about it. However, it involved anything to do with the Sharks, his lips remained shut. Still, Roxie dared to wonder what it was that was occupying his mind this time.

“Everything alright?” Roxie asked him quietly.

It took Riff a second to realize she had asked him a question. “Huh? Oh, yeah… everythin’ is fine.”

Roxie wasn’t entirely comforted by the fact that he brushed over her question so easily. If something had happened with the Sharks within the past few days, she hadn’t heard about it. Not yet.

The group's arrival at the diner interrupted her thoughts.

“I’m not sure what I was expecting,” Velma admitted, “but it looks quaint. Cute.”

Before Roxie could say anything, Rhonda began to drag Action inside, and one by one the other couples followed suit. By the time Riff and Roxie had entered through the entrance, Action and Ice had spotted two tables and were already on the mission to push them together into one long table that would fit the entire group.

The diner was a little more crowded than usual, but Roxie was relieved to see that Action and Ice had found two empty tables close to each other to join up. The last thing Roxie wanted to do was make their presence a burden on whoever was serving them. Roxie could only hope their evening at the diner would go well enough that she and Riff would be able to return at a later date.

The rest of the couples readily took their seats. Roxie and Riff spared each other a brief wary look before following suit. Roxie took a seat near the end of the one table. Riff was to her right, and Velma was to her left. She realized the universe took some small pity on her when she looked across the table and realized that Ice and Karen were across from her. Roxie wasn’t sure how she would manage through the dinner if Action and Rhonda had chosen to sit near them instead. Thankfully they were further down the table and seated across from Velma and Diesel.

Their waitress, whom Roxie recognized as the same one who had waited on her and Riff several times before, gave them all a bit of an odd look, but said nothing as the group took a few minutes to look over the menus. She came over to take their orders shortly after and asked how they were going to split the check.

There was no discussion about it: each couple was going to fend for themselves.

With that thought, Roxie recalled that it was her turn to pay. Nonchalantly, she reached into her purse by side slowly. Riff looked at her curiously and quickly realized what she was trying to do. She casually withdrew a few bills from the purse before handing them over to Riff underneath the table.

Riff gave her a small appreciative smile in return. The gesture was so subtle that anyone else who had seen it wouldn’t have given it much thought at all.

Roxie wasn’t ashamed of the agreement she reached with Riff to alternate who paid for their dates. But she knew Riff still wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, even though he had agreed to it. Knowingly making him uncomfortable in front of the other Jets and their girls would have been cruel.

“Are you sure you’ve got it covered, Deez?” Velma asked him worriedly.

“Of course, Sweetheart,” Diesel assured her readily. Before Roxie could process the fact that it was one of the first times she’d personally heard Diesel be so candid with his affection for Velma, Diesel added proudly, “I got paid a few days ago.”

“Really?” Ice questioned with a raised eyebrow. Then, he looked at Riff. “The shop doin’ that good?”

Riff shrugged nonchalantly. “Business is startin’ to pick up.”

Being modest, I see. The auto shop wasn’t an oil well by any means, but compared to the state of it at the beginning of the summer, there had been significant improvement.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about what ya started to say a few weeks ago, after what happened to the wall” Ice confessed. As he talked, his eyes glanced over the rest of the group carefully. “About strikin’ gold with the shop?”

Ice’s words had garnered everyone’s attention, and they all looked at Riff and waited for his response.

Even Roxie looked at Riff; he had said he would try to bring up the subject of focusing more on the auto shop to the guys. Maybe planting the idea in Ice’s, Action’s, and Diesel’s minds in this smaller, more casual setting would be more effective than him throwing the idea out there to be digested by the entire crew of Jets.

“Well, it ain’t makin’ that much money,” Riff clarified quickly.

“But enough?” Ice pressed.

“Enough,” Riff confirmed.

Their waitress dropped off their drinks, briefly pausing the conversation on the shop. Once she was out of earshot, the conversation continued.

“If business keeps pickin’ up,” Diesel began, stopping to take a drink, “I reckon I’ll be outta your hair sooner rather than later, Boss.”

Riff smirked. “Ya know you’ve always got a place to crash, long as ya need it.”

“I know,” Diesel acknowledged. “But if the shop keeps bringin’ in cash, how long ‘til your uncle comes back? I’m startin’ to feel like I’m sleepin’ on the cot upstairs on borrowed time.”

Roxie looked at Riff pointedly, silently encouraging him. Riff noticed.

“Ya know,” Riff said, “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout tryin’ to save up some money… maybe see if I can get him to accept an offer to buy it.”

This was news, that much was evident by the surprised looks on everyone’s faces- well, everyone’s except Roxie’s.

“What?” Action gawked. “Ya tryin’ to be all business like?!”

“I kinda like the thought of that,” Ice admitted off-handedly.

“Almost guaranteed income for the foreseeable future?” Diesel added. “Count me in. I got big plans, but they’re gonna cost some dough.”

“Yeah, what plans?” Ice teased, his eyes shifting between Diesel and Velma suggestively.

There was a soft thud underneath the table and Ice hissed in pain, shifted in his seat, and shot Diesel a glare.

“Nevermind all of that,” Action interrupted, bringing the focus back to him. His narrowed eyes landed on Roxie. “Who’s idea was it, anyway?”

A challenge, huh?

“It was mine,” Roxie quipped. “I have some good ones, on occasion.”

She flinched slightly in surprise as Riff’s hand wrapped around hers under the table. The gesture was soothing, but whether he meant it as reassurance or as a warning, Roxie wasn’t entirely sure. Regardless, she didn’t fight it and forced herself to relax a bit.

“Great,” Action deadpanned. “Ya seem to be considerin’ a lot of crazy ideas these days, Boss…” Action sighed heavily before he continued in a much quieter voice. “Next thing ya know, you’ll say ya don’t actually wanna rumble with the Sharks.”

Roxie’s eyes went wide and the rest of the group visibly tensed at the mere mention of the word.

Thankfully, Rhonda spared all of them from having to form a response. She scowled, picked up the menu that had been placed in front of her, and gave Action a good slap on the arm with it. A satisfying thwack rang out as he flinched and held his arm where she had struck him, though Roxie doubted it could’ve hurt that much.

“Don’t you dare go bringing up that word!” Rhonda warmed him in a dangerously low tone.

Roxie decided at that specific moment that she already liked Rhonda.

Action’s front of bravado and toughness immediately faded upon his girlfriend’s scolding. “Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled under his breath. He immediately focused on his drink as an awkward silence fell over the table.

Velma broke the silence by quickly asking Karen about how she styled her hair.

Though Rhonda had chided him, Action had already muttered the word, and Roxie could only hope that it wouldn’t stick in any of the rest of the guys’ minds. She glanced at Riff, fearing he would have a look on his face that meant he was considering what Action had said, but once again, he looked distracted.

She squeezed his hand, which was still wrapped around hers, lightly in order to grab his attention. “Are you sure you’re alright?” she whispered.

Riff gave her an uneasy look for a moment before eventually relenting and giving her a slow nod. “I will be. I’ll tell ya about it later.”

The thought that he was willing to talk to her about whatever was on his mind gave Roxie some comfort and hope that it wasn’t anything to do with the Sharks. She lightly squeezed his hand once more, and this time the gesture was returned.

“-And I really loved the way you styled it for the Midsummer’s Dance,” Velma was saying to Karen. Diesel, Action, and Ice had temporarily checked out, but Karen and Rhonda’s attention was on Velma.

“Speaking of the dance,” Rhonda interjected, “did you know that they’re already planning to have another one?”

“Really?” Velma questioned. “Even after what happened at the last one?”

Rhonda nodded. “It’s supposed to be in a couple weeks. They’re calling it the Dog Days Dance.”

“I don’t care what they’re calling it, it’s a perfect excuse to buy a new dress,” Karen said with a smile. “Roxie,” she said then, “Would you care to come with us when we go dress shopping?”

Roxie was slightly taken aback, but after looking at Karen carefully, she decided the offer was genuine. It was nice of her to ask- the last dress shopping experience Roxie had with some of the Jet girls was certainly interesting. But Karen seemed pretty nice, and Roxie dared to wonder if she’d actually enjoy this next dress shopping experience.

Maybe she could spend the money she’d been saving from the auto shop on a new dress, if she found one that caught her fancy.

Roxie nodded in response to Karen’s question.

“Great!” Karen enthused. “I loved the dress you wore to the last one- you’ve got an eye for a striking shade of blue, I’ll give you that. We’ll be the prettiest girls at the dance without a doubt.”

“You Jet girls are always the prettiest girls at the dance,” Ice said casually before taking a sip of his drink.

The girls at the table erupted into a chorus of “awwws” while the guys offered various verbal agreements. Karen nudged Ice playfully as she blushed.

Much lighter topics dominated the conversation from that point forward, and soon Action’s mentioning of that word was long forgotten.

Roxie had gotten in a few words with Rhonda and Karen, and the more time passed, the more comfortable she felt discussing the issue of the rumble with them at a later time. 

Furthermore, the longer Roxie spent conversing with them, the more she began to realize she actually liked Rhonda and Karen. That was a happy coincidence- rumble with the Sharks or not, Action and Ice were not likely to go anywhere. They were like Riff’s brothers, and if they stuck with Rhonda and Karen respectively, Roxie would be seeing a lot of them, especially if she stayed with Riff.

And she planned on staying with him as long as he let her.

————————————————————————————

By the time the food arrived, Riff’s most recent money troubles were far removed from his mind. He even almost forgot about the Sharks, until that little hiccup Action had with mentioning a rumble.

It would be up to Riff to decide if and when a rumble would be necessary, not Action. It didn’t matter if he and Action were thinking along the same lines on the subject, Riff had to be the one to call the shot. If he let Action make the decision for him, what kind of leader would that make him?

No leader at all.

Riff could easily imagine Tony getting a kick out of it if he knew.

But, besides the food, which was a vast improvement on whatever he could normally scrounge up for a meal, Riff quickly found something else to focus on and everything else, even the Sharks, were temporarily forgotten. The object of his focus was the young woman to his left. Soon, Riff had tuned out the conversation around them almost entirely.

It was endearing, watching Roxie chat with the guys and their girls. Sure, maybe she avoided saying anything to Action directly, but Riff couldn’t blame her for that. In fact, Riff could tell how specific Roxie was about what all she was saying. Anyone who didn’t know that she and Action had problems with one another wouldn’t have a clue that trouble existed between them at all.

When Roxie listened, she tended to nod along as whoever was talking gave their spiel. Riff wasn’t sure if Roxie even knew that she did that, but he noticed.

And when Roxie was able to get a few words in, her eyes seemed to light up a bit at the chance to say her peace. Most of it was small  idle talk, but Riff didn’t mind. Roxie could read him the dictionary cover to back and he’d still probably cling on to her every word because she was the one reading it.

Roxie looked comfortable. Riff wasn’t super worried about her “fitting in” with the other girls- as far as he was concerned, he was seeing her, and that would have to be good enough for everyone else- but it made things a lot easier for both of them if everyone got along. So if Roxie actually hit it off with Rhonda and Karen, just as she had seemed to do with the other guys’ girls she had met so far, that was even better.

Riff had reluctantly dropped Roxie’s hand underneath the table when their food arrived. Though that was no longer an option, he settled for subtly scooting his chair over ever so slightly so that his arm brushed up against hers.

Roxie noticed this. She glanced at him with a small smile and leaned into his side a bit more.

“So, Roxie,” Karen said, “Velma told me you were taking some classes at that university downtown. What were you studying?”

An odd look flashed across Roxie’s face, but she recovered so quickly Riff wasn’t sure if anyone else would have caught it. Weird.

“Well, most of the girls who were in my classes, if they were pursuing a degree, usually planned on studying either nursing or teaching. I was thinking of pursuing teaching.”

It was with some small pang of guilt that Riff realized that he had never asked Roxie what she studied while she was away at that fancy school. Maybe a small part of him never brought it up because he was worried she would actually talk about it. And if she actually talked about it, the possibility of Roxie going away in less than two months would really resonate in his mind. Riff tried not to worry about it, but sometimes he just couldn’t help himself.

But if Roxie had to go back, Riff had no choice but to believe they’d find a way to make it work.

If she went back to school and got an actual teaching degree, that would be no small feat. The thought of her accomplishing something that significant in spite of her background would make anyone who knew her proud. It would certainly make Riff proud of her. And if Riff was honest, Riff was already proud of her for taking a crack at it at all.

Plus, Riff knew in his gut that she’d be a good teacher. He was far from the best pupil when she tried to tutor him in a desperate attempt to keep him from dropping out back in high school. But she never gave up on him. He had just given up on himself.

Even now, she still hadn’t given up on teaching him something- the fact that she had been able to teach him tricks with keeping the books straight was nothing short of a miracle.

… Maybe finding a way to cope with himself if Roxie had to go back to school wouldn’t be as difficult as he thought.

As the conversation continued, Riff was broken out of his thoughts by Roxie suddenly tensing up beside him. He looked down at her with a confused expression.

“Everythin’ alright, Doll?” Riff whispered to her.

Her eyes weren’t on him, they were on something over his shoulder across the restaurant. Someone, Riff realized after he followed her line of sight to a figure seated at the counter.

The man was quite broad, and his wide figure was only enhanced by the trenchcoat he donned. It was certainly an odd choice of apparel, given the time of year. But when the man turned to the side and Riff caught a glimpse of his face, Riff realized with a sick feeling in his gut that the trench coat was a bit more inconspicuous in the diner’s environment than a sharp suit and fedora.

It was the third time Riff had seen the man. The first time the man had been behind a gun in a moonlit alleyway. The second time was in that gambling house earlier in the summer, when he’d been seated in a chair by one of the tables and watching them with a stern look from across the room. The brightness of the diner erased any doubt from Riff’s mind that this was the same man he was seeing for a third time.

Same wide jaw. Same combed over, oily hair. Same beady eyes flashing over towards them.

“Do ya think he’s seen us?” Riff asked her in a hushed tone, still mindful of the fact that they were sitting at a full table with their friends and another conversation was occurring at the same exact time.

“Can’t imagine he hasn’t,” Roxie whispered back.

Riff cursed under his breath.

“What’re you two talking about over there?” Velma teased suddenly, grabbing both of their attention.

“Nothing,” Roxie replied quickly, too quickly.

Riff reached under the table once more and blindly reached for her hand. Once he found it, he squeezed it reassuringly.

Velma gave Roxie a strange look, but ultimately elected to ignore Roxie’s odd behavior and continued with her train of thought.

“What are we supposed to do?” Roxie asked him then, sounding just as scared as she had been in the gambling house where they’d last seen the man.

Riff contemplated her question as he dared to take another look at the man across the restaurant. The man was leaning on the counter and taking a sip of coffee. As if he had some sixth sense, it wasn’t but a moment after Riff decided to take another look at him that the man turned once again, and this time their eyes locked for several long moments.

Riff tore his eyes away from the man as he began to ponder his options. They could call it an early night and head out, but there was no guarantee that the man, or one of his goons, like the one that had gotten arrested, wouldn’t follow them.

Action and Ice knew what the goon looked like, but as for the guy in a trenchcoat who usually sported a fedora, he would just seem like another patron. A patron with a questionable fashion choice, but another patron, nonetheless. There was no hope for Riff to get any kind of signal to either of them without causing a scene.

And causing a scene was the last thing Riff wanted to do. Killing a single man and shooting several people in a crowded diner were two very different things, but, once a killer, always a killer. There was no telling what the guy was capable of, and Riff knew he had a tendency to pack heat. After all, they had already witnessed him shoot another man point blank.

Alright, so if walking out wasn’t an option, and tipping off Action and Ice wasn’t an option either, what did that leave him?

…

It was stupid, but Riff didn’t have any other ideas.

“Stay here,” Riff instructed Roxie quietly, shifting in his seat to stand.

“What? Where are you going?” Roxie demanded, sounding slightly frantic.

By then, Ice had noticed their exchange. “Everythin’ alright, Riff?”

Ice’s question had interrupted the rest of the group’s conversation and suddenly all eyes were upon Riff.

Without a second thought, Riff grabbed a nearby bottle of ketchup, which was all but empty, with his free hand. “Just gonna go get some more ketchup,” he explained sheepishly.

Riff moved to stand, but Roxie still held onto his left hand. Eventually, she was forced to drop it in order to avoid alarming the group.

As Riff walked away from the table, he heard the conversation continue on without him and felt Roxie’s eyes upon his back.

————————————————————————————

Roxie watched helplessly Riff as he walked further away from the table and over towards the man.

Her mind raced as he approached the counter, placed the ketchup bottle on the surface, and started conversing with the man. She watched with bated breath as their seemingly calm conversation commenced.

Roxie was more scared for Riff than angry with hin. She reserved all the anger she felt for herself.

They should’ve never, ever come back to the diner, let alone with a group of their closest friends. It was stupid, no, beyond stupid. It was far too close to the place they’d mutually agreed upon to never return to. But they’d come back to the diner anyways, and for what? A little nostalgia was likely about to cost at least two of them their lives.

Roxie tore her eyes away from Riff’s back to glance over at Ice, then at Action. Both of them were focused on Velma’s conversation, and had not noticed anything was amiss. Why should they have? They both knew about Riff and Roxie’s trips to the gambling houses, and they knew they had been tailed the very last time they went.

But as far as Roxie knew, neither of them knew about the murder Riff and Roxie had witnessed over a year and a half ago. They wouldn’t have known that the very same guy Riff was currently talking with at the diner’s counter shot a man over a monetary dispute and seemingly wanted to ensure that Riff and Roxie kept quiet about what they’d seen. Even if Action and Ice had known about all of that, they weren’t there, and they wouldn’t have known what they looked like.

What options did that leave her? She considered outright telling them, but she couldn’t know with absolute certainty that everyone would take her seriously. And if they did believe her, Roxie didn’t feel confident that no one would cause a scene and that everyone would be able to play it cool.

There was also the fact that informing everyone at the table would immediately place them in more danger than they already may have been.

Roxie looked away from the others at the table and once again looked over across the diner and at Riff. He was still talking with the man. Their conversation still seemed calm, and neither appeared to be angry or otherwise troubled. They were in a public setting, but Roxie feared if she looked away for any longer than a moment or two, the man seated at the counter would pull out a weapon of some sort and that would be that.

Something happening to Riff scared her more than the thought of something befalling her.

Roxie hated admitting defeat, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she had brought this upon herself. And apparently, she was going to take Riff down with her.

Even if by some miracle Riff had an opportunity to slip away and leave Roxie to deal with the menacing man herself, she knew he wouldn’t take it. He wouldn’t abandon her, not in this situation.

Roxie wasn’t going to abandon Riff either, no matter what that meant for them.

————————————————————————————

Riff sauntered up the counter calmly, determined not to let the guy see him sweat. The man already had them at a disadvantage- several disadvantages actually. Riff wasn’t about to give him the gratification of watching him squirm in fear.

Even if fear really was coursing through every vein in his body just thinking about all the potential outcomes of the situation.

Riff placed the empty bottle of ketchup on the countertop lightly. He didn’t even get the chance to say anything before the waitress behind the counter noticed him, grabbed the empty bottle, and wordlessly set about refilling it.

While Riff waited, he mustered up the nerve to look over at the man, who was still seated, on the stool to his right. When he did, Riff realized the man had been staring at him already. The look on the man’s face was strange, almost curious. It was off putting.

“Evening,” the man greeted with a deceptively warm smile. He had a distinct accent, but Riff couldn’t quite place it. It didn’t sound Spanish, but it was definitely foreign.

Riff nodded curtly. “Can I help ya with somethin’, Mr…?”

“I go by many names, but you can call me Mr. Barone,” the man informed him. His tone was so pleasant, anyone who overheard them might have thought that the two were old friends. “And yes, Mr. Riff Lorton, I think there is something you can help me with.”

Shit.

The man knew his name. That was not good.

What was even worse was that Riff finally placed the accent. From what he could remember, a lot of the Bishops had similar accents. And they spoke Italian.

Shit, shit, shit.

“I’d like to have a chat with you,” Mr. Barone said pointedly. “Let’s meet outside.”

Meeting the man outside was the absolute last thing Riff wanted to do, and would certainly be the stupidest thing he could do at that moment. But what choice did he have now?

Riff desperately wished he would’ve stayed seated and kept his trap shut. But he’d backed himself into a corner, and now was the time to live with the consequences… even if they were deadly.

Maybe he could at least minimize the damage.

“You look like your mind is running a million miles an hour,” Mr. Barone observed, sounding very amused. “Just do as I say, and this whole experience will be painless for the both of us, I promise you.”

Was it ‘painless’ for the poor fella whose brains you spilled out in that alley?!

Riff shook his head once firmly to regain his composure. Don’t let him see ya sweat, he reminded himself.

The waitress returned with a full bottle of ketchup. Riff nodded to her as a form of thanks, and Mr. Barone smiled at her kindly. She left a moment later, none the wiser, leaving Riff alone with the wolf in sheep’s clothing once again.

“First, you’re gonna go back over to the table and tell your crew that you’ll catch up with them later. Second, you and me are gonna go outside for our little chat,” Mr. Barone instructed. “Now, I’m running a bit late for another appointment- so you best get to it, and quickly.”

Sorry my mortality is such an inconvenience to ya.

“Well, that’s gonna be a bit of a problem,” Riff replied, making his voice as stern as he could muster. “We’ve got separate bills.” It was risky, but Riff couldn’t help but joke, “You payin’ for us?”

Wordlessly, and as quick as a flash, Mr. Barone reached into his coat pocket, withdrew his hand, and slapped a stack of bills onto the countertop. “Do you think that will cover it?” he asked. He sounded uncertain, almost as if the cost of an actual meal at a diner was unknown to him. Since he’d just put down way more money than necessary, Riff figured it probably was.

“It’ll be plenty,” Riff muttered in response. He quickly swiped up the money in one hand and the filled bottle of ketchup in the other.

As he turned to head back to the table, he was stopped when Mr. Barone said, “One more thing- ask Ms. Thomas to stay behind, too. I’d like to chat with her as well.”

Riff’s heart sank upon hearing Roxie’s name.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

“And no funny business,” Mr. Barone added. “I’ve got eyes all around this place.

Riff didn’t doubt that.

Riff said nothing in response and instead walked back over to the table. The walk only took about five seconds, but it felt like hours as his mind raced.

When he reached the table and did not immediately make a move to sit back down in his seat, all of the group's eyes were on him once again. Roxie stared up at him too, and her worried expression stood out distinctly from everyone else’s curious ones.

Riff set the bottle of ketchup down on the table calmly, painfully aware of the fact that Mr. Barone was most likely watching his every move. He glanced down at everyone’s plate, noting that almost everyone was finished with their meal. That was some sort of ironic luck- at least he wasn’t likely to be met with much protest.

“It’s startin’ to get a little late,” Riff announced. “Why don’t you all go on ahead, and Roxie and I will catch up with you later.”

Action gave him a confused look. “You haven’t finished eatin’, Riff.”

Riff glanced down at his own plate, and internally cursed when he realized he had barely touched his food. “I ain’t really that hungry,” he lied quickly.

Action didn’t seem fully convinced, and neither did Ice.

“You sure, Krazy Kat?” Ice asked with a raised brow.

Riff nodded once. “Dinner’s on me,” he announced, lifting his hand to display the money from Mr. Barone for everyone at the table to see. “I told ya the shop was doin’ well… consider it my treat.”

Maybe it'll be the last thing I can do for ya.

Diesel smiled widely. “Ya don’t have to tell me twice,” he announced. He stood up from his seat quickly, and offered Velma an arm. She gave Riff an uncertain look, but allowed Diesel to help her rise from her own seat.

Action, Rhonda, Ice, and Karen all followed suit and slowly rose from their chairs.

Roxie remained in her seat to his left.

When the rest of the group offered Riff some smiles and “thank yous”, Riff knew he had successfully convinced them that nothing was amiss. He took a good look at each of their faces and couldn’t help but wonder if it would be the last time he’d see them.

Riff wanted to believe Ice and Action could find a way to lead the Jets without him. He was just a bit remorseful he hadn’t got to say goodbye to the rest of them.

At least they’ll get outta here unscathed.

Diesel, Velma, Action, Rhonda, Ice, and Karen headed to the exit without another thought. 

Before he exited, Diesel lingered in the doorway as he called over his shoulder, “See ya back at the shop, Boss!”

Riff fought the urge to face palm before he realized that if Mr. Barone knew his full name, he was pretty likely to know about the shop as well.

“I’ll see ya later, Deez,” Riff called back, giving him a final, solemn wave.

Diesel gave him a smile before disappearing through the doors.

Their waitress came over to the table a moment later and looked at Riff expectantly.

“Sorry for the mix up,” he told her. “I’m coverin’ everyone’s bill tonight.”

The waitress looked relieved when he handed her the stack of cash, and immediately left to go ring up the bills.

When they were alone, Riff finally looked down at Roxie. The worry hadn’t left her face, if anything, it had probably been amplified by the fact that Riff had told everyone else to go ahead and leave. With a small sigh, Riff sat back down in his seat.

“What’s going on?” Roxie asked quietly.

“He just wants a chat,” Riff replied. “Said his name is Mr. Barone.”

Roxie’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “That’s it? He just wants to chat?”

Riff looked away from her and took a sip of his Coke. In the time it had taken for him to go have the lovely little talk with Mr. Barone at the counter, the ice had started to melt and his drink had become watered down. He grimaced.

“Riff!” Roxie hissed.

“He said it would be quick,” Riff said nonchalantly. “And that it would be painless.”

Riff felt Roxie’s eyes bearing into the side of his head as she glared at him.

“... Do you think this is funny?!”

Riff turned to look at her once again. The concern on Roxie’s face was still evident, but now it was joined by mild frustration. Despite all this, he thought she looked just as beautiful as ever. He had tried to memorize her face a few times before, but his mind had yet to do her justice. Maybe his memory could hold out for a few more minutes this time around. He hoped it would.

“No, it’s not funny,” Riff acknowledged. He gave her a small, sad smile. “I was just thinkin’ that if these are my last few moments with ya, I want to enjoy them.”

Roxie’s head tilted slightly as she processed his words. She returned his sad smile with one of her own. “Do you enjoy teasing me?”

Riff’s sad smile quickly turned into a smirk. “A little.”

Roxie rolled her eyes.

Riff knew she didn’t mean any harm from her gesture though, since she reached out for his hand that rested upon the table a moment later. As he watched their fingers intertwine, Riff said, “I need ya to do me a favor.”

Roxie looked at him expectantly.

“If you get the chance, you need to book it the hell out of here.”

Roxie shook her head. “No.”

“Roxie, this ain’t up for debate-”

“You’re right, it isn’t up for debate,” Roxie agreed. “We’re in this together.”

Before Riff could protest any further, their waitress returned to their table. She placed down a copy of the receipt and some bills which Riff could only assume was the change on the table. After giving them a brief smile, she turned on her heels and walked away.

Riff glanced over at the counter and watched as Mr. Barone threw a few more dollars onto the counter as payment for the coffee. Then, he rose slowly, straightened out his trench coat, and began to walk over to their table.

Roxie watched him as well. Without looking at him, she squeezed Riff’s hand tightly. “Together?”

Riff looked at Roxie tiredly. Once he saw the determination written plainly on her face, he knew that there would be no talking her out of it. “Together.”

The pair wordlessly rose from their chairs and followed Mr. Barone out the diner doors.

The sun had set during their time in the diner, and the group were met with the night sky. The stars seemed cold and distant, but Riff opted to ignore them for now.

Soon enough, he mused somberly.

They walked behind Mr. Barone and followed him down the street lamp lit sidewalk in silence. They gripped one another’s hands so tightly that Riff doubted a tornado barreling through would part them.

Riff had remained as calm as possible until Mr. Barone stopped before an alleyway. When he gestured to the two of them to enter the alley first, panic crashed over Riff like a wave.

The only thing that kept him grounded was Roxie’s hand in his. And still, it was that very fact that added ti his panic in the first place.

Why didn’t she run?!

He told her to. She said she wouldn’t. He wished she had lied. Riff would’ve preferred to feel slightly betrayed and alone in his final moments than to even contemplate what her fate would be if they entered the alley.

This couldn’t be happening. Riff didn’t care so much about what would happen to him. Throw him into a pine box, or chuck his corpse in the river, whatever would be most convenient for whoever was overseeing his send off.

Oh God, Tony.

It would probably be Tony that would have the task thrust upon him. His uncle certainly wouldn’t step up. Would Tony mourn him?

Damn it, he hadn’t even come clean to Tony about the fling he’d had with Grazi! How could he have forgotten?! Riff supposed, given their last conversation, that there was never a good moment to bring it up. But now he was gonna take that secret to the grave, and it wasn’t likely to earn him any points with the Big Guy.

Riff realized with a decent amount of horror that he was about to die with two major regrets: not setting things right with Tony, and proving Tony right by quite literally bringing Roxie down with him.

Oh God, Roxie.

If he was gone, who would bury her? Her whole family was already gone. Riff had always planned on going before Roxie anyways, whether it would be the next month or decades down the road. But even then, Riff had figured she’d have someone else to take care of her when her own time came. Surely their kids would see to it that she got a proper send off. Wait- did he even want kids? Nevermind, it wasn’t like he would get the time to think it through, anyways.

What Riff did know is that the thought of Roxie dying alone made him really, really damn sad. Tony will take care of her, right?

But it wasn’t Tony’s responsibility. It was Riff’s.

Because Riff loved her.

…

He loved her.

“Come on, let’s not make this any harder than it needs to be,” Mr. Barone half-gruffed.

The tension between them over the past couple of weeks had been building up to something, just not quite what Riff had thought.

Riff looked at Roxie with wide eyes. His sudden life-altering realization temporarily stunned him.

Not missing a beat and totally oblivious to his catharsis, Roxie lightly tugged Riff along by the hand down the alley. When they were finally a bit down the alleyway and far enough away from the sidewalk so that nothing would be overheard, Mr. Barone told them to stop.

Riff finally snapped out of his stupor. Instinctively, he took a step in front of Roxie to place himself between her and Mr. Barone. If the other man noticed, he made no comment about it. Roxie placed her hands on his back, her fingers balling into fists and gripping his shirt tightly. Riff felt reassured by the fact that even though they were both about to meet a grim fate, at least he could provide some form of comfort to her in her final moments. Even if that comfort was small, and even if it was false.

“Like I said, I’m running late for another appointment, so I’ll make this quick,” Mr. Barone announced. He looked at them both for a moment, as if taking every detail of them in.

Riff felt uncomfortable under his gaze and instinctively shifted so that Roxie was further hidden from Mr. Barone’s view.

“You know, it was by some sheer luck that my associate saw you in that diner a few weeks back,” Mr. Barone said. “But I told all my guys to keep an eye out for two kids matching your descriptions. I figured the two of you were local, since this is not the first, nor is it the second time that I have seen you.”

Riff and Roxie remained silent.

“I wondered if you were cops,” Mr. Barone admitted. “But since it’s been quite some time since the circumstance under which we first both saw each other, and since the boys in blue haven’t come knocking on my door yet, I figured that wasn’t likely.”

‘Circumstance’ was an odd word to describe witnessing a murder, but Riff wasn’t going to push his luck. “We ain’t snitches,” he swore vehemently.

“No. But, the two of you are so young. You have your whole lives ahead of you. What business did a couple of kids like you have visiting gambling houses like that?”

“What does everyone ‘round here need?” Roxie said from behind Riff. “Money.”

Mr. Barone nodded understandingly. “I figured as much. Well, that brings me to my next point. As a way of saying thanks, and in exchange for your continued silence, I’d like to give you something.”

Mr. Barone reached into one of the trench coat’s pockets, and when he did, Riff closed his eyes and braced himself.

All Riff heard was the whistling of a cool breeze flowing throughout the summer night.

“Riff,” Roxie whispered faintly, grabbing his attention.

Riff opened his eyes carefully at first, but they immediately widened at what he saw in Mr. Barone’s hand.

It wasn’t a gun.

It was probably one of the most sizable stacks of cash Riff had ever seen in his life. Way more than the amount Mr. Barone had fronted for the diner bill.

“Come on, take it,” Mr. Barone insisted patiently. “It’s not a trap. You’re smart enough not to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Riff wasn’t fully convinced. “We ain’t sntiches,” he repeated, “but how do ya know we won't eventually tell the cops about that circumstance we saw ya tangled up in?”

“Like I said, you’re smart,” Mr. Barone countered with a smug smile. “Ms. Roxanne Thomas- you live over in that apartment complex across the community park a few blocks away, correct?”

Roxie said nothing. She gripped the back of Riff’s shirt tighter.

“And you, Mr. Riff Lorton,” Mr. Barone continued, “You were a bit harder to track down. But that auto shop a couple blocks away from the park- that’s a convenient little set up you and your fellas run, isn’t it? Though the shop doesn’t belong to you, you have gone and made it your own all the same.”

Riff was forced to realize that Mr. Barone was telling the truth. That wasn’t a bluff- that was a full report.

“So, what?” Riff asked. “We take your money, and as collateral ya know where we live?”

Mr. Barone nodded. “As long as we go our separate ways and mind our own business, you have no need to worry about seeing me ever again. The only reason you two ran into me tonight is because I wanted you to. When I heard from my associate that you had made a habit of coming back to the diner repeatedly, I knew it would only be a matter of time before I would have a chance to speak with you.”

Mr. Barone held the money out to them once again. “I didn’t plan on your friends being present, so I apologize about that. But you were smart, and you did as instructed. As a result, they are safe, and far, far away from here. Keep being smart, Riff. Take the money.”

Riff wasn’t so sure the guy wouldn’t try to shoot them as soon as he reached for the money. He certainly shouldn’t have any qualms about doing just that.

But Mr. Barone was making some pretty good points. Riff would’ve turned around to gauge Roxie’s reaction to everything Mr. Barone had told them, but Riff was more determined than ever to keep Mr. Barone’s focus off her and solely on him.

Riff eyes flashed between the money, which was still waiting in Mr. Barone’s outstretched hand, and back up at Mr. Barone’s face. Mr. Barone was watching him with moderate interest.

Cautiously, Riff reached out to take the money from him. When his fingers wrapped around the stack of cash, Riff half-expected Mr. Barone to yank it out of his grasp, but he did not. Instead, he allowed Riff to take the money easily.

Riff slowly drew the money back to himself. His eyes never left Mr. Barone’s as he reached around behind him to hand off the cash to Roxie. Riff had always trusted her with their money, and he supposed this situation was no different. She took it from him quickly, but his hand lingered around hers for a moment longer than necessary.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really need to get going to that other appointment,” Mr. Barone informed them. He turned to leave.

The other man’s flippant tone surprised Riff, who had been so sure they were about to die. Frankly, he wasn’t sure whether they hadn’t already been killed and that the last few minutes of conversation were nothing but a figment of his imagination or a post-mortem daydream.

Surely it can’t be this easy…

“Wait,” Roxie said, immediately stopping Mr. Barone in his tracks.

Damn it.

Riff fought the urge to roll his eyes. He loved her. But, one way or another, he knew she was likely going to be the death of him.

“Why’d you have that associate of yours follow us a few weeks ago?” Roxie asked.

Mr. Barone looked surprised. “I’m glad you brought him up, Ms. Thomas. I almost forgot.”

Mr. Barone reached into his trench coat pocket once again, and despite himself, Riff couldn't help but flinch. This time, Mr. Barone withdrew something that wasn’t immediately visible.

“I wanted him to follow you,” Mr. Barone admitted, “just so that I could arrange a formal meeting with you to have this very same discussion. Oh, he was mad that hustled him, that’s for sure. But my needs were more important than him trying to salvage his wounded pride by teaching you a lesson.”

“But he was arrested,” Roxie noted.

“Yes.”

“And you aren’t… mad?”

Mr. Barone smiled. Unlike the previous smiles he had given Riff and Roxie previously, which seemed outwardly pleasant but which still caused Riff to suspect some malicious intent, the smile Mr. Barone wore at that moment was no facade. It was downright sinister.

“Turns out my associate was rat,” Mr. Barone informed them.

That was… not what Riff had been expecting. At all.

“Of course, the cops who arrested him were too low on the totem pole to know that,” Mr. Barone explained. “A couple of clowns, they took him off my hands and they don’t even know it. Another associate of mine on the inside tipped me off as to what happened. Because of that, I owe the two of you a favor.”

“A favor?” Riff repeated.

Mr. Barone nodded. “My associate was arrested before he learned anything of actual value to tell his higher ups. And believe me, that has saved me a great deal of a headache. So, in addition to your payment, I’d like to give you these. There’s one for the both of you.”

Riff narrowed his eyes slightly as Mr. Barone held his outstretched hand towards them once more. Riff swiped the item from his hand more quickly than he’d grabbed the cash, more determined than ever to end the conversation as soon as possible and go about their separate ways.

Riff looked down at the object he’d been handed. It was a business card. Well, two business cards. It read, “Mr. Barone”, followed by a phone number.

“You should know that that is not my direct line,” Mr. Barone clarified. “But, that will still be the best way to reach me. If either of you need anything, anything at all, feel free to call.”

“You’re kiddin’,” Riff deadpanned, feeling a mixture of shock and disbelief.

“I am quite serious, Mr. Lorton,” Mr. Barone confirmed. “Use the favor, or don’t. I just wanted to extend the offer.”

It was quiet for a few moments.

“Well, I am now very late for my appointment,” Mr. Barone said then. “And unfortunately, I do not plan on it going nearly as well as this one did.”

Riff didn’t care to dwell on what Mr. Barone was inferring.

“In case I do not hear from either of you again, allow me to give you one last bit of advice: stay away from the gambling houses.”

At any other moment, Riff would’ve let out a laugh. As if either of them had needed this completely stressful conversation to concur for that to have resonated with them.

Mr. Barone turned on his heels, walked down the alley, stepped back onto the sidewalk, and disappeared around the corner of the building and out of their view.

Riff and Roxie stood there for several long minutes in a stunned silence, each of them waiting with bated breath as they prepared for some sort of punchline to the sick joke life had played on them that evening.

Riff was alive. Maybe his mother’s luck had stuck with him.

Roxie was alive. And he loved her.

————————————————————————————

When the two of them finally managed to make it back to Roxie’s apartment, Roxie refused to drop Riff’s hand.

“What is it?” Riff asked, concern still evident in his tone.

It was a loaded question, but given the events of the evening, Roxie wasn’t feeling up to teasing him.

“Would you… do you think you could come upstairs with me?”

All thoughts of anything illicit had been set very, very far aside when she posed the question to him.

If Riff was with her, and Riff was in her sights, then he was safe. If she knew he was safe, she could get some rest. If she didn’t know he was safe, she knew there would be no hope of getting sleep. She probably wouldn’t get too much sleep anyways, with the adrenaline still coursing through her, but she had to try.

Riff said nothing and there was an odd look in his eyes that Roxie couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“You can leave as soon as I fall asleep,” Roxie added quickly. “I just… I don’t want to be alone right now-”

Riff spared her any further explanation and silenced her with a gentle kiss. Though he pulled back after a few moments, his face remained close to hers. “Lead the way,” he breathed out with a small smile.

Roxie smiled in relief and headed inside the building. He was right on her heels.

Instead of the fire escape, Riff was finally going to use the front door.

A/N: Thank you for reading! :) Please feel free to leave a like or any feedback if you enjoyed. If you wold like to be added to the taglist, please feel free reach out and let me know. The tentative posting date for Part 17 is Monday, 3/28. I will update this blurb if it becomes necessary.

Taglist: @whisperofsong​ @disguisedbassethound​ @lingerasthesmokeoncedid​ @westsidelegendary​ @sallymakesstuff​ @youngteenagehearts​ @wombtotombx​ @loverisi​ @wnygirl2012​ @b-bella9​ @princessmiaelicia​ @childesbbyy​ @amberash05​ @samiyamuntaha​

Part 17

Masterlist

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Hibiscus Kisses {6}

Chris Evans x OFC Ajali Rambaue AU {Ah-Jah-Lee, Ram-Bow}

Warning: Plot, Cursing, Angst, Blood, Lots Of Words, Death

Words: 8.3k

Summary: Ajali decides on a rash decision to go on a Disney cruise, not for her love of Disney, but because she needs time to figure things out after things get even more complicated in her complicated life. She only expected peace, quiet, tropical drinks, and an overabundance of Disney songs. What she got was more than she bargained for when the cruise of a lifetime on the brand new ship Enchantment turned into a nightmare. The only saving grace is that she’s not the only one living through the nightmare. Can Ajali survive the test of a lifetime and the dangers ahead of her, and better yet, will she finally be able to live a little?

Note: Please feel free to tell me what you think. I’m super excited to explore this one with you all. 🤗

As always, thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this, please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG! ❤️❤️

I appreciate each and every one of your guys’ support and love!

***VERY Loosely Edited/Proofread***

**Interactive**

Previous Chapters: {1} | {2} | {3} | {4} | {5} |

You must have stood at the back of the yacht for a while because the shore and the docks were barely visible at this point. Every minute that ticked by you weighed your options of just diving in and swimming back. Everything you came up with seemed fine to deal with. So what if your hair got wet and you had to go through your four-hour wash and treat routine. So what if you attracted a shark or two, you could swim. So what if everything in your bag got drenched, you could replace them.

 With the number of rebuttals you came up with, you should have jumped in already. The major con that was flashing in your head in neon lettering was you are an adult and not a child who ran away from difficult situations. The sound of laughter had you turning around to see Chris laughing with Harper. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world. Scoffing, you turned back around and crossed your arms.

 Almost a minute later you felt Chris standing beside you. “If you want to swim back I’m sure you could make it.”

 If looks could kill, the one you gave him should have done it. All you had to do was push him overboard to a watery grave. Chris lifted his hands to show his no threat status and that was when you walked away.

 “All right folks. It’ll be another forty minutes before we arrive at the best fishing spot in all of the islands. It’s my little secret. In the meantime, you have a choice of activities. You can go down below and marine watch, stay on deck and do some pictures and sights, or go into the bubble where you are surrounded by the ocean. It is optimal for fish watching. I’ll let you folks know when we’ve arrived.”

You nodded and walked toward the steps that would lead below deck. You fully intended to get as far away from him as possible. Ignoring the way he turned to you as if he had something to say, you carefully went down the steps and to the back of the yacht. There you found what Harper was referring to. It looked like an actual bubble with two seats. Once you sat down you saw why this was mentioned as the most sought-after experience. You really felt like you were alone under the ocean and not apart from it but one with it.

You watched a school of yellow and black striped fish swim by and a small box popped up to the right of the screen with a still photo of the fish and a few listed facts.

 “Moorish Idol fish. These fish commonly inhabit tropical to subtropical reefs and lagoons. These fish usually travel alone or in small schools. These fish mate for life and adult males show aggression to one another.”

 Your jaw dropped. You hadn’t expected it to be high-tech. In front of you, you grabbed the flipbook and flicked through it to see a variety of sea creatures. The announcement of another fish brought your attention back to the ocean before you and that is where your eyes remained. Creature after creature swam by and up to the glass. Each one was announced and described. As they came up, you took pictures of the pretty ones you liked ready to show them to your family when you returned home.

 You were so wrapped up in fish watching that you didn’t notice that you weren’t alone until it was too late. Chris slipped into the seat beside you, startling you. Your harsh glare landed on him with the force of fifty blades behind it. He wasn’t looking at you though, his eyes were glued to the water and passing reef life.

 “Oh wow, Nemo and Dory,” Chris exclaimed inching closer to the glass.

 That was all it took for your attention to go right back, and lo and behold there were Dory and Nemo lookalikes.

 “Wow.”

 Mirroring Chris’s actions you slid to the edge of the seat as well and touched the glass. They were pretty in animation but that had nothing on real life. The orange and blue were so striking up close.

 “They’re even best friends in real life,” Chris quietly said.

 For the next few minutes neither of you spoke again you were too wrapped up in looking at all the fish that passed by one after the other. When you’d reached a part of the ocean where life was scarce, you sat back and crossed your arms.

 “Can I please explain?”

 You sighed and dropped your head back to rest on the hard headrest, keeping your eyes trained in front of you.

 “I promise I’m not this asshole you have me pegged as in your head.”

 “So you don’t go around trying to charm women out of your panties and in your bed for notches on your bedpost?”

 “God no!”

 You rolled your eyes not believing one word.

 “I solemnly swear that I am up to nothing but good,” Chris replied holding up three fingers.

A smirk teased your lips at the Harry Potter line he’d just repurposed for his own use mixed with the Hunger Games salute. You shook your head unable to ignore how adorkably stupid he was.

 “You know those two have nothing to do with the other, right?”

 Chris slyly smiled and shrugged. “It’s sorta my thing. Sleeping around and I have nothing to do with each other also.”

 You snorted and shook your head. He was smooth.

 “You’re real smooth, I’ll give you that.”

 He sighed and turned his body more to you. “It’s a misunderstanding,” Chris began.

 “Let me stop you there. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time anyone starts off with that, chances are there was no misunderstanding,” you dryly informed.

 “That high? Okay, then I fall in the point one percent.”

 You glared at him again but he didn’t back down, he held your glare but behind his eyes, you saw nothing but sincerity rather than the hostility you had spearing behind yours. When you didn’t object, he opened his mouth to speak again but you looked away.

 “There’s no need.”

 “Why won’t you let me explain?”

 You knew why. If he explained and the explanation seemed plausible and he looked sincere the chances of you believing it would be eighty percent and that was high. You would then continue spending time with him because you did enjoy his company and conversation and eventually sleep with him. Maybe. Letting him explain was step one that would lead to a series of missteps. Then you’d find yourself in a situation come the end of the cruise when both of you went your separate ways. There were too many what-ifs in the air.

 “Ah, I think I know. If you let me explain then this image you have of me being a womanizer who is after fast and quick ass, who would come on a cruise to chase women for a notch would be debunked. If it is debunked, then you’d have to admit that you liked spending time with me and enjoyed yourself. Then you’d have to admit that what might have happened if my phone didn’t ring wouldn’t have been a one-off. You’d have to face the possibility that there might be something here past our physical attraction.”

 Well damn, you thought. For a moment your thoughts betrayed the steely animosity in your eyes and you knew your shock shone through. You quickly looked away from him and tapped into your inner Elsa while watching a school of white fish pass by. You could feel him beside you staring at you as if trying to crack your resolve. You fought against him and kept your breathing slow and steady.

 “You don’t have to tell me I’m right. I know I am and it’s not because I’m a cocky prick. It’s because—,” Chris paused then sighed heavily before he continued. “I liked spending time—with you. Like really liked it and this was before anything physical happened. You’re funny and fun and not phased by this thing called fame that is wrapped around me. You probably don’t understand it, but that’s something refreshing and attractive to me.”

 Unable to resist any longer, you sneakily glanced at him while wondering if any part of what he’d just said was possibly true.  

 “Before I came on this cruise to get away from my life—run away from my life.”

 Your interest piqued. Why was he running away? Didn’t he have everything?

 “My friend, the one you heard on the phone was teasing me about the reason. I didn’t want to give him the real deal so I kept quiet which led him to the conclusion that it had something to do with a woman. It didn’t but he thought it. So the phone call was him stating his opinions again, his way of life. Now I’m not condoning what he said at all but that’s his life. I didn’t come here for any of that and that night wasn’t about that for me.”

 “What was it about?”

 You blurted the question without a thought and once you’d asked, you regretted it. The answer wouldn’t do you any good.

 Sighing, you looked back out to the water. “Don’t answer that.”

 And he didn’t. The silence stretched and your thoughts did as well. You contemplated his explanation and the probability of any of it being true. He had all the reason to lie right now, but the more you thought about it the more you guessed he didn’t need to lie being who he was. He could have just shrugged and put you on the side that wasn’t a fan of his and kept it moving.

 “Look,” Chris said shoving his phone to you with the text exchange between him and someone named Austin was visible.

 “I know what it is to be distrustful of strangers or everyone really and proof means a lot to me. Since the burden of proof is on my side, here it is.”

 You read through the exchange from a little over a week ago and sure enough, his friend Austin was scum. The irrefutable proof showed those sentiments were his and even showed Chris admonishing him for those sentiments and setting him straight. The banter that continued was Austin teasing him about his good boy behaviors. From the texts, you could tell they were close, and you could also tell that Austin was the asshole between them and Chris was possibly a good guy.

 Groaning, you looked away and dropped your head back to the headrest again. You did not need this. Sighing, you closed your eyes and listened to the silence. Several minutes passed by where neither of you spoke and just when you were going to Harper’s voice came in over the ship’s intercoms.

 “We have some dolphin action up here if anyone’s interested.”

 “Dolphins!”

 Your head snapped to Chris hearing the uncharacteristically excited squeal. Did he really just turn into a Powerpuff girl? Chris leapt to his feet and began walking toward the steps leaving you there to wonder just what kind of man he was.

 A few moments later, you emerged from below and walked to the railing to see a dolphin jump out of the water in the distance.

“Oh my god!”

 At that moment you felt your smallness in the world. There were so many other creatures that were bigger and yet humans always thought themselves so superior. It was baffling.

 “It’s not always like this, they must be here to greet you folks,” Harper said as another jumped out and one swam up.

 You dropped down to your knees and peered over the railing and marveled at the aquatic beauty.

 “They’re so friendly.”

 Just then, a dolphin popped up showing its long bottlenose and black eyes and in the same breath, a stream of water came at you drenching you. In your shock, you just sat there while Chris and Harper heartily got their laugh in at your expense. To add insult to injury the dolphin even sounded like it was laughing. Who could be mad though? It was too cute. You looked across the way and saw Chris snapping pictures of you with a wide smile on his face. Being alarmed, snapping at him, or even telling him to delete the pictures would have all been acceptable reactions but you didn’t react in any of those ways. Instead, you brought your attention back to the dolphins in the water. Let him take his pictures, you thought.

 Twenty minutes later you were sitting at the side of the boat with your legs dangling over the edge enjoying the breeze, sun, and tranquility being on the ocean brought. There was something so serene about being in the middle of a giant body of water with creatures of plenty underneath its depths while there was nothing in sight for miles and miles. It was peaceful. The pictures you took of the horizon, the sky, and the water were breathtaking. You knew they’d make great printouts to add to your walls when you returned home. When you realized your battery was running low, you dug into your bag for one of your four fully charged portable chargers and slipped your phone into one of the many waterproof pouches you had your belongings secured inside.

 Your sister liked to make fun of you for how well you prepared for things. When you went out for every day, your purse contained every possible thing you would and could need for the day. You didn’t like being unprepared for whatever you came across and that included something as minor as rain all the way to the major things like abductions. You’d been the butt of many jokes but you didn’t care.

 Glancing to the other side of the yacht, you watched as Chris followed the instruction of Harper as he practiced a variety of sailor’s knots. It didn’t look like he was a novice though. You could tell he’d done it a few times before. Sooner than you could look away, Harper caught you then motioned you over. It would have been rude to ignore him, so you walked over to them and sat before them.

 “Here, try your hand at sailor’s knots,” Chris suggested holding out a length of rope to you.

 “It’s not as easy as it looks,” he followed up as you took it.

 “You look like you’ve done it before.”

 “Once or twice,” he replied.

 You studied the knots surrounding Chris for a few moments then took a stab at it. From the beginning you messed it up but didn’t quit, instead, you undid it and tried again. You didn’t quit easy. That was probably why you were in your current relationship predicament. A few minutes and several failed attempts later, you held up the finished product that looked identical to Chris’s.

 “So you have one of those brains where you can see something and replicate it?”

 You scoffed and shrugged. “Kind of. I just pick some things up quickly.”

 Chris nodded and held out another length of rope and pointed to a different pattern. “Try this one.”

 You knew it was a test. You grabbed the rope and studied the new pattern that was a lot more intricate than the first. Though it was more intricate it took you a shorter amount of time to start. When you held it up for them to see, less time had passed and you hadn’t made one mistake.

 “Wow,” Harper exclaimed before he chuckled.

 “What can I say, I’m pretty amazing,” you joked.

 Both men laughed but didn’t debate the fact.

 “We’re coming up on the cove that gives me the best fish. Of course, we’re catching and releasing, but it won’t dampen the experience,” Harper informed.

 Within a few short minutes, Harper had pulled up to one of the most beautiful coves you’d ever seen. The water was aquamarine crystal blue. It was so crystal like you could see several feet into it. The giant rocks that created a maze had moss growing off the tops of them that were lush green and created a nice contrast of colors. If you could have picked up this view and brought it home with you, you would have. It was that breathtaking.  

 You weren’t the only one thinking it, Chris was a few feet away snapping every picture he could get, only he didn’t look like a tourist. He looked like a professional travel photographer. When he dropped to one of his knees to get a different angle you just leaned against the railing and watched. The sun beaming down on him gave his hair a reddish hue which looked good on him. It even accentuated the freckles peppered along his arms. You remembered what was under that shirt of his at that second. You remembered the muscles, the hair, and the tats. It was an unexpected sight but one that you wouldn’t mind seeing again. Instantly you kissed your teeth and slapped your forehead.

 “Cut it out.”

 “Did you say something?”

 Chris was looking at you with a quizzical expression with his camera still posed up.

 “Nope, nothing.”

 He didn’t look like he believed you, but slowly he went back to snapping his pictures while you tried to create even more distance between you.

 “Get a grip, Ajali. It hasn’t been that long. You’re not affection starved either. Get—a—grip.”

 You took a few slow breathes and focused on the scene before you. You now understood why many people said this island was a top destination for vacations.

 “And we’re ready. You both said you’ve fished before, right?”

 You walked toward Harper’s voice then saw he had fishing rods, buckets, gloves, and all the other supplies lying at his feet.

 “I’ve done some fishing,” Chris offered before both sets of eyes landed on you.

 “Never.”

 “It’s not hard, I promise,” Harper assured bending for the rods. He held one out to Chris and the other to you.

 “Thank you.”

 “I’ll explain everything and its function. If either of you have any questions let me know.”

 Harper walked a few feet away leading the two of you to a shaded portion of the yacht. Once there, he explained everything in detail. He showed the parts of the rod, showed how to put things together, explained their function, and then went on to the different kinds of bait that were available. When he began demonstrating how to hold the rod and posture you paid close attention and imitated what he did. You knew though this was something that would take some getting used to.

 After twenty minutes, the three of you were in your spots ready to cast your rods. You watched Harper cast his first and it looked so fluid. You could tell he’d done this thousand of times. Then you watched Chris and though his movements weren’t as fluid, it looked like he was far from a beginner. You sighed and tried your best. The rod was heavy in your hands and affected your ability to control it and cast it perfectly. Glancing at Harper, he shrugged.

 “Good enough. You got it where it needs to go.”

 A soft chuckle escaped both you and Chris.

 “What kind of catch do you get out here?”

 Harper proceeded to explain the different kinds of fish he’d caught to Chris while you partially zoned them out. It didn’t take long for you to understand why people liked fishing. It was calming. You could leisurely do it while letting your mind drift and worries float away. Thirty minutes later it was your line that tugged first. You yelped then squeaked as you panicked.

 “What do I do?”

 “Reel it in,” Harper said.

 The resistance on the line was giving you a good arm workout. The struggle went back and forth. You doubted this was a baby.

 “This thing is strong.”

 “You got it, put your back into it like Ice Cube,” Chris teased making you narrow your eyes at him. That only made him laugh loudly.

 A few more moments of struggle persisted until you’d yanked the rod backward tucking it out of the water, over your head, and flopping the fish right on the deck.

 “Aaaah, oh my god! I caught a fish!”

 You jumped up and down excited by your success. Forgetting any prior slights you jumped closer to Chris and bumped shoulders with him.

 “I did it!”

 “You did.”

 “Good job. This here is a Barracuda,” Harper announced.

 “Ooooh Barracuda,” you and Chris said in unison like the song. The two of you giggled together before returning your attention to Harper.

 “It’s not an adult, but it’s no baby either. You want a picture?”

 “Yes!”

 You scurried to your bag and pulled out your phone then handed it to Chris before you dropped down to your knees and bent to the fish still flopping on the deck and smiled as you’d just won the lotto. Chris laughed and took the picture a few moments later. After the first few shots, you changed poses and let him take a few more. You watched as Chris’s face went from wide smiles to solemn confusion. Just as you were going to ask if your battery died, Harper spoke.

 “Do you want to do the honors of releasing it?”

 “You mean touch it?”

 Harper nodded and you ardently shook your head. “No thank you. I hear Barracudas like to bite.”

 Harper laughed at you as he effortlessly grabbed the fish by its tail then chucked it back into the ocean.

 “It was just an adolescent.”

 Chris held your phone out then walked back to his rod without a word. Slight confusion washed over you as you glanced at your screen to see one of the pictures he’d just taken, but your battery was fully charged.

 For the next few hours Chris barely spoke to you, but when you glanced over to him, his eyes were always on you before he looked away once yours met his. It was a complete turnaround from before. It shouldn’t have bothered or affect you at all considering the reality of things, but it did bother you a little bit. Once the three of you had had your fill of catch and release the sun was beginning to disappear. Harper caught a huge Mahi Mahi, scaled and fillet it right in front of you, and Chris showing off his impressive knife skills. He then took the fish to prepare what he promised would be the best open ocean fish you’d ever had. You were excited to see the finished product.

 Once Harper had disappeared down below you walked to the cooler, took out two beers, and walked over to Chris. He was sitting toward the back of the yacht watching the rocks in silence. You sat beside him, held out the beer, and waited for him to accept it. When he took it, he wasted no time twisting off the top and taking a mouthful. You sat there in silence looking over the view.

“Who knew a celebrity could fish.”

 “I’m not a celebrity all day every day. I have hobbies and free time.”

 “I take it fishing is a hobby?”

 “When I can get to it. Sometimes I can’t go off the grid to do it.”

 You nodded and tried to picture him at a lake with a rod and bucket of bait catching fish. A soft smile spread across your face before you gulped your beer.

 “What’s one of your hobbies?”

 Taking a deep breath you slowly released it. “Painting.”

 “You’re artistic?”

 “Depends what you call artistic. I can slap some paint on a canvas and call it a day.”

 Chris looked at you for a few moments. “Somehow I find it hard to believe it’s as lowkey as you’re describing. I bet you’re a modern-day Frida Kahlo.”

 You smiled and shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

 Silence spread between you again and the two of you sipped from your bottles. It was a semi-comfortable silence.

 “Are you departing tomorrow or staying on?”

 You wanted to ask why he wanted to know but decided against it. “Staying on.”

 Chris nodded. “Me too.”

 Neither of you spoke again, instead, you watched the sky as the sun slowly began its descent behind the water. When Harper returned, the air filled with such a delicious scent that your belly grumbled loudly.

 “And dinner is served. Harper placed the platter down on the table and you and Chris walked over to it. Your jaw dropped in amazement.

 “What kind of kitchen do you have down there that can produce that?”

 “I’ve had tons of practice.”

 The Mahi Mahi that was alive less than two hours ago was now cooked to perfection and decorated with papaya, and a green salad.

 “Wow, this looks mouthwatering,” Chris complimented.

 “It’s nothing fancy, just some fish with a papaya and seaweed salad.”

 “Seaweed salad? Oh wow. You utilize everything huh.”

 “Absolutely. I can tell you more about using everything you can to not only survive but make good food,” Harper said motioning you both to sit down.

 “No one is serving you here, help yourselves there’s plenty.”

 The three of you dug in taking portions of fish and salad. When you took a bite of the Mahi Mahi your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “Oh my god. This is so good.”

 “All it needed was some salt, pepper, and lemon. Sometimes keeping it simple is the best way.”

 Chris moaned and nodded in agreement with you. “Delicious.”

 As the three of you ate, Harper told you all about his travels and time living on his own on the ocean and how he’d learned to survive on little to nothing. It was so interesting to hear his story. From it, you gathered he was determined, creative, meticulous, and persevering. He didn’t let anything stop him and because of that mindset, he said he’d seen a lot of wonderful things and had a beautiful life. Listening to him speak about his loves and losses and how it was just him in the end you couldn’t help but think about your relationships.

 When he began listing off the life lessons he’d learned you made note of each and every one of them. You always thought the stories of the older generations were interesting. While most of their experiences were relatable, a lot of it wasn’t because of the difference in eras. In Harper’s era being a bachelor past twenty-two was seen as taboo, yet that was the life he lived. When he spoke of when he did get married, it was to the one woman he’d loved since he was twenty years old. The woman he’d been stupid about and missed out on two times. From the way he spoke about her, you knew she was his soul mate.

 Glancing to Chris who was sitting diagonally from you, part of you wondered how relatable Harper’s experiences were to him. You thought back to the very few tabloid and gossip stories you’d read about him but nothing jumped out to you. The tabloids didn’t focus on one woman that he was possibly seeing, they didn’t highlight any crazy behaviors with any of them or even highlight breakups. That was part of how you’d pieced him together. The lack of information left for such a wide breadth of possibilities to put together.

 “Take it from me young ones, when you’re walking down a dimly lit street of soft lights, and you happen to find that anomaly among the sea that shines a different light and makes everything else pale in comparison you do whatever it takes to hold on to that. You fight for it and don’t let anything or anyone make you miss out on it. None of us are here for a long time. One day I’ll join my Angie and we’ll be together again. I welcome that day, until then I’ll keep drifting.”

 The three of you sat there in silence, each of you lost in your thoughts and worries. Was Javii that anomaly or was he part of the sea and you’d been mistaken this whole time? When Harper returned to the helm to captain you back toward land you were secluded from the rest of them and still lost in your thoughts. It had been days since you left and you’d figured out nothing. If anything, you’d added more to your plate to think about. This was what you hadn’t wanted to do and that was the reason you chose this option rather than staying in the city.

 You began to wonder again about the person who would be that anomaly that Harper spoke of. Rather than thinking of your experiences with Javii, your irresponsible mind thought of your run-ins with Chris. When you’d seen him in passing before boarding the ship you’d noticed him in the sea of people and amidst every chaotic thing happening around you. Your brain singled him out. It did it again when you saw him in passing topside when you’d met Genevieve and in the lounge club. It was something you hadn’t focused on before but now it was all you could think of.

 “Get a freaking grip, Ajali!”

 You smacked your head and dropped it down hunching over to hug your shins. Suddenly, you felt raindrops and those drops quickly turned into a waterfall.

 “What the--,” you began holding your hands out confused how a downpour like this could just suddenly start.  

 Unexpectedly, the ship lurched hard to the left sending items on the deck toppling over including your beer bottle and the empty ones around it. Thinking quickly, you grabbed the railing to not tumble. Your grip was precarious thanks to the downpour and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold on for long. Just as you were losing your grip, that was when the ship lurched again only this time to the right. With no time to grab for the railing, you tumbled over but before you hit the deck arms wrapped around you stabilizing you.

 “I got you.”

 Glancing up, you found Chris with rainwater pouring down his face and beard. He was holding on tightly to one of the metal poles while holding you tightly in his other arm. When the rocking went from deadly to manageable, Chris slowly let you go.

 “Something must be wrong. Let’s go.”

 Both of you took off on the search to find Harper. Every few seconds the rocking of the ship made items fall and roll. Chris was the one to pull you in every which direction to help you avoid the bigger items. When the ship bucked back you both slid back.

 “Aaah, fuck!”

 A sharp slice caught you off guard making you fall to the deck. Before Chris could react the boat rocked again sending you rolling back a few feet. When you slammed into one of the walls you shouted out in pain. Seconds later Chris was bent before you.

 “Are you okay?”

 His eyes quickly scanned your body and found your bleeding foot.

 “Oh god.

 Chris quickly pulled off his tropical printed shirt, ripped it, and began wrapping your foot.

 “I’m sorry I have to do this tight to hopefully slow the bleeding,” Chris informed before he yanked the material, knotting it tightly around your injury. You tried to stifle your groan but it didn’t work. Your shout echoed across the open water and carried it competing with the downpour from the sky.

 “I’m sorry. Ready to keep going? We’re almost there.”

 You nodded and let Chris help you up. With his arm around your waist and yours draped over his shoulder the two of you hurried to the small enclosure where Harper was steering the boat. Every so often thanks to the falling and rolling items you and Chris looked like circus performers, jumping, dodging, and sliding out of harm's way. The way Chris managed to go into protector and alpha mode had you seeing a new side to him. Women did love a man who could take charge.

 When you finally made it you found Harper passed out on the floor.

 “Oh my god!”

 Chris placed you along one of the windows so you could lean against it before he dropped down to his knees to check for a pulse. The longer it took him to turn to you, the more anxious you became.

 “He has a pulse, but it’s thready. Looks like he may have hit his head,” Chris informed before he ripped the while men’s tank he wore at the hem and pressed it to Harper’s forehead.

 On impact, Harper groaned then bolted up.

 “Hey, take it easy,” Chris shouted trying to compete with the loudness of the ocean and the rain.

 “No. Storm. We’re in a storm. We call these pop-ups. They happen all the time,” Harper explained as Chris helped him to his feet.

 “If you knew it was coming--,” you began.

 “I didn’t. No one can predict these and they’re increasingly more dangerous.”

 The yacht whipped as if it were a leash sending all three of you knocking into whatever was closest. Immediately the pain that whisked through you had you screaming. That was the first time you thought you were going to die. All you could feel was pain, all you could hear was the sound of your heart beating. You slowly opened your eyes but couldn’t make anything out through the haziness. You couldn’t pinpoint where the pain in your body was coming from, it felt like it was everywhere.

 “Ajali!”

 Snapping your eyes open you saw Chris’s drenched and concerned face before you. “Open your eyes. Stay with me!”

 It was a forceful command. One that you slowly obeyed. He helped you to a sitting position then turned back to Harper who was trying to stand to look over the built-in equipment of the ship.

 “We’re way off course here. Somehow this storm has put us way off route. It makes no sense.”

 “What does that mean?!”

 “It means we’re drifting and not towards the islands. We’re drifting away.”

 “What!”

 Harper tried to turn the key for the engine but it stalled then sputtered. He tried it again and again but the result was the same.

 “This is bad,” Harper added.

 “What do we do?”

 The ship rocked again but this tilt was so drastically different. It actually went so far on its side that it felt like you were going to capsize.

 “We’re gonna tip over!”

 Chris ran from the small room fighting against gravity’s pull to yank him over. Your first thought was he was leaving you.

 “Hang on tight!”

 Your scream was so loud you doubt you’d ever gone that high before. Terror gripped your heart and your entire life flashed before your eyes. You were certain you were done for. There was no way to make it out of this. You began mumbling but you didn’t know if what you said made any sense. A few seconds later, the ship dropped back into the water allowing you to remain top side up. You felt hands on your body and you opened your eyes to Chris shoving your arms in a bright orange life vest.

 “I could only find one right now so it’s yours.”

 “What—what about you?”

 “I’ll be fine. Hold on tight.”

 He spun around looking at Harper.

 “I have to get below.”

 Harper hurried out without another word and Chris turned back to you.

 “I’m going to help him. Stay here.”

 He made a move to leave and you grabbed his hand pulling him back to you.

 “Don’t leave me.”

 “I’m not. I’m going below with Harper. I’m sure he’ll need my help. I think it’s safer for you up here.”

 You still held tight to his hand fear controlling your movements. Chris’s expression softened before he took a step close to you to hold you at the side of your neck to the base of your skull.

 “I swear to you I won’t leave you, no matter what. We’re in this together. I will be back and we’ll laugh about this one day. For that day to come though we have to get through this and I have to help him down below. You’ll be safe. Hold on tight, stay low.”

 You nodded and took a few breathes trying to psych yourself up.

 “You got this,” Chris said before he pulled away and walked from you.

 You closed your eyes and said a silent prayer hoping for him to come back and that his words weren’t bullshit.

 The seconds seemed to slowly tick by and the minutes went on for lifetimes. Every jolt of the ship leveled you to a whimpering mess. You did just as Chris has instructed—kept low and held on for dear life. You didn’t care how numb your hand became from gripping the cold metal for so long you kept holding on. You didn’t care how cold you got from not only the ocean water but the rain and the strong wind gusts, you remained in your corner shivering refusing to come out. It didn’t matter how much the pain you felt intensified the colder you got you ignored it and kept whispering your silent prayers. You didn’t want to die. Not like this.

 You heard something like a loud crack then the groaning of metal then the ship once again tilted. You screeched and tried to hold yourself to the railing but the further the boat tilted the harder it was to hold on.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

 You screamed again and braced yourself to end up in the water under the boat, but instead of it tipping it once again dropped back onto the water’s surface.

 “Oh my god!”

 “Ajali, can you hear me?”

 You whipped your head around trying to find where the voice was coming from without letting go of the railing. You were too scared.

 “Ajali. Can you hear me!”

 On the dashboard, you saw a red light flashing and guessed it was the radio. The only problem was for you to get to it, you’d have to let go and walk over to it. If the yacht tilted again you’d slid your ass out the room and off the boat. It was a risk.

 “Ajali, pick up. We’re down here trying to fix the engine but we need you to turn her on for us. Can you do that?”

 “Fuck!”

 You slowly stood, fighting against your aching joints, bones, and muscles, and stood upright with most of your weight on your uninjured foot. You assessed the distance from where you were to the dashboard and knew slow and steady was the best way but you doubted you had that time. You took a deep breath and took three hops on your good foot toward the dashboard. When there was just one hop left to take the vessel rocked sending you off balance and smack dab into the glass with your face.

 At this point, there was no part of your body that wasn’t in pain. A metallic irony taste filled your mouth and you knew you were bleeding. You had no idea from where though, your face was completely numb.

 “Ajali!?”

 Using the back of one hand, you wiped across your mouth and took another deep breath, and hopped to the dashboard throwing yourself across it and holding it for dear life. You took a few moments to calm yourself then grabbed the walkie.

 “I’m here.”

 You heard Chris exhale as if he was relieved. “Thank god, I thought something happened.”

 “I’m fine,” you lied while trying to wipe away the blood that dripped across the dashboard.

 “Try to turn the engine on.”

 You twisted the designated key all that happened was a long exaggerated sputter then hiss.

 “This time keep it turned don’t release it,” Chris suggested.

 Doing as you were told, you waited and begged the engine to cooperate. When you heard a yell over the walkie you knew it wasn’t good.

 “Damn it! There’s water in the engine. The only way to even begin to work on it is for it to dry out. That’s gonna be impossible during a storm. It’ll just keep flooding. We’re not moving. Damn it!”

 There was a full range of banging over the walkie that only made you panic more.

 “Can everyone not fall apart right now? Please. I’m terrified enough as it is,” you pleaded.

 “Listen to my voice, it’s okay. We’re coming back up. We just have to weather the storm,” Chris said. His voice sounded like he was panicking but was also trying to showcase calm. You heard both.

 Another loud crack echoed but it wasn’t on your end, it was over the walkie.

 “What was that?”

 The sound rang out again and everything went dead silent over the walkie before a loud crash of something breaking echoed out. At that moment the ship lurched again only this time the groan of metal was so loud it made you shake from fear. Garbled speech went in and out over the walkie alarming you.

 “He—hello?”

 The only response you got was the walkie dying.

 “Hello? Hello?” You pressed buttons and turned switches not knowing what any of them did but hoping one of them brought communication back.  Nothing helped though.

 “Chris! Hello? Chris! Answer me goddamn it!”

 You threw the corded walkie and dropped your head down and wailed. There was no hope at all you thought.

 “I’m gonna die.”

 You cried, finally letting out the angst and terror you were feeling. There was nothing positive about your current situation. You were in the middle of the ocean, practically alone while a storm was raging around you. people went missing like this, people died like this. You were suddenly so tired. A wave of water brushed against your feet but you didn’t think anything of it. You almost couldn’t lift your head.

 “Ajali!”

 As you lifted your head you saw Chris racing toward you.

 “We have to get off this ship.”

 “What!”

 “The glass broke. We’re taking in water and sinking—fast!”

 Hearing those words you found the energy to rise. “What do we do? Where’s Harper?”

 “He’s lowering the life raft. Let’s go.”

 Chris wrapped his arm around your waist and helped you along. When you made it down the steps to the deck you saw that it was completely filled with water.

 “Oh my god.”

 “It’s all right, I have you.”

 He must have gotten tired of your hobbling because he scooped you up and hurried along treading through the now calf-level water.

 “You’re freezing cold,” Chris mumbled.

 “What are we gonna do?”

 Chris reached Harper who looked as if he’d been through hell. From one glance you could tell he was hurt.

 “Climb down first,” Harper said to you as Chris put you down.

 You flinched as the saltwater wreaked devastation on your injured foot.

 “I’m scared.”

 “I know. it’s expected, you’re human. I need you to work through that fear though and climb down into the raft,” Chris reasoned.

 You nodded and tried to get over not only the terror but also will your muscles to move through them being near frozen. You tried to move your legs in some coordination to climb over the railing but it was taking a bit of time on your own. Chris stepped closer and helped you to take the first step down the ladder. When your injured foot joined your other one it slipped and sent you down a few of them only stopping when you were able to get a grip on the metal.

 “Are you okay?”

 “I’m okay.”

 You slowly went down the remaining steps until you got to the last one and saw you’d need to jump off the railing to land in the raft. You took a few breathes, hoped that you made it in the raft and not in the ocean, and jumped. Landing on your back you couldn’t relax. It hit you that you were now in a life raft about to drift to god knows where. From above you heard the two men arguing back and forth over who should go next. When you saw Chris was the one climbing down the ladder you knew Harper had won.

 It didn’t take him nearly as long as it took you. A few seconds later he’d jumped in next to you. The strong scent of gas immediately hit you.

 “You smell like gas.”

 Chris smelled himself then his eyes widened and pointed back to the ship. The two of you looked up just in time to see Harper bringing back up the ladder.

 “What’re you doing? Come down!”

 “No can do brother. This here is my ship and a captain always goes down with his ship.”

 Your eyes widened in horror. He couldn’t be serious.

 “That’s not funny Harper. The gas is leaking, there is no saving it. It isn’t worth your life. Come on, there’s time for you to save yourself too,” Chris rebutted.

 “I’m long past saving,” Harper said lifting his shirt to show the large shard of glass that was sticking through his abdomen. It looked like it had gone right through him. You knew that if it were removed the chances of him living were zilch.

 “Oh my god,” you mewled before clamping your hand over your mouth to stifle the wail that followed.

 “Harper--,” Chris began but never finished.

 “I always knew I’d die on this ship and that’s all right. I’m at peace with it. If I get in that raft with you I’d be doing you a disservice. Sharks would be on your tail in no time.”

 Harper flung a pack over the railing into the raft.

 “I’ve already pre-packed all the emergency packs in the raft. They’re in the side compartments as well as underneath the zipped platform of the bottom. These are things you’ll need wherever you wash up.”

 Another bag followed the first and landed on the raft. “This one is some rations. Remember to conserve the water. You can survive without food longer than water.”

 You cried louder while using your hand to muffle as much of the sound as you could.

 “Come on man,” Chris pleaded.

 Four more bags followed including your backpack. By then you’d fully lost it and had ventured into a nervous breakdown.

 “Inside the raft, there is a transponder. I am going to set off the homing beacon on my ship it’ll give search and rescue some idea of where things went wrong. They’ll be able to follow the signal and rescue you no matter where you are.”

 Harper bent forward and groaned. He must have been in so much pain you thought to yourself. On its own, your hand gripped the ripped hem of Chris’s tank and held it tightly. Chris glanced back at you and you saw the same anguish you felt.

 “I’m sorry about this folks, I really am.” He paused and shook his head before he continued. “You have each other though.”

 An explosion shook the vessel and lit up the sky behind Harper.

“That’s my cue. Get outta here. I’ll do my part. Remember live your way, it makes death a peaceful conclusion.”

 With that Harper hobbled away holding the railing.

 “Go!”

 He disappeared from view leaving the two of you sitting in the raft, in the pouring rain heartbroken and terrified. Another explosion erupted and Chris sprang into motion yanking the cord that controlled the motor startup. He yanked it once, then twice until it sparked alive on the third try. You both looked to the ship unsure what to do. The decision had been made for you, there was nothing either of you could do but go.

 Slowly the raft began to drift away from the sinking ship and neither of you could peel your eyes away. Two more explosions boomed and then Harper’s voice echoed out.

 “I’m coming, Angie!”

 “Oh my god,” you whispered dropping your head to the surface of the raft. Your cry was loud and showcased the tragic sadness before you.

 You watched on before another and final grand explosion ripped the ship apart sending parts every which way.

“Fuck!”

 Chris leapt for you throwing his body over yours using himself as a shield to protect you. The sound of flying metal around you only made you scream more and more. Still, Chris didn’t come off of you, he kept his body over yours while maneuvering the rod steering of the raft. After the sound of flying metal subsided and the warmth of fire died down Chris rolled off of you. There was nothing to be seen except the fire from the explosion that was quickly being extinguished as the rest of the ship sank to the depths of the ocean.

 “Oh my god, Harper.”

 “God,” Chris groaned out, dropping his head down. “Rest in peace.”

 There it was. Death. It was staring you right in the face and you feared it hadn’t had its fill quite yet. Your sobs returned and soon they were the only sounds traveling across the water, along with the motor. Neither of you spoke for a few minutes as you both tried to digest everything that had just happened and how everything had gone so wrong.

 “What’re we going to do?”

 It was a question asked just above a whisper. A question that held so much uncertainty, a question that also brought so much fear with it. What were you going to do?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s S2 R&S - Fireworks into the Heart

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from an R&S (烟花入心) which has not been released in EN! 🍒

Features S2 Gavin. References are made to S2 Ch 16

[ Chapter One ]

“Wang Xiao Cui, you’ve been employed by the STF’s Logistics Department. Report to the cafeteria at 8am tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

I’ve been hired to work in the STF cafeteria. 

As a nutritionist with over thirty years of experience, joining the STF isn’t a problem for me.

My old companion isn’t able to understand why I’m not using my years of retirement to enjoy life. Without giving him a response, I simply smoothen the small creases on my STF uniform carefully.

As an ordinary person, the STF always had a mysterious and prestigious impression in my eyes. Agents who are able to work here are all heroes with indomitable spirits.

Being able to take care of their meals and enable them to get more nutrition every day to strengthen their bodies and better protect Loveland City gives me a sense of honour in protecting this city too.

Based on my experience, taking care of a group of young people is a piece of cake. However, I didn’t expect to make the mistake of underestimating this place.

-

Standing in front of the cafeteria’s bleak signboard at 7.30am, I witness several agents carrying Tianjin-style deep-friend dough sticks through the doors. Someone even carries several bags of fried beef buns. While walking, he speaks in a loud voice:

"I braved the risk of running laps to bring you guys fried buns again!”

“During training later, no one’s allowed to snatch that new gun from me.”

The other agents let out a “tsk”, taking the fried buns and chilli paste from him before dividing them amongst themselves.

Fresh out of the oven, hot steam rises from the buns in the cafeteria, and nobody bats an eye. The master who steamed the buns has already grown accustomed to this. They stand in groups of twos and threes, engaging in idle chatter.

Why doesn’t anyone in the STF like eating food from the cafeteria?

Unable to figure out an answer after much thought, I happen to spot a handsome lad dressed in a white uniform. His steps are steady, and he brings along a breeze when he walks. I immediately call out to him.

“Hey! Young lad, wait.”

The handsome lad stops in his footsteps, giving me a sweeping glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Do you need help with anything?”

“No no, I'm the new nutritionist in the cafeteria. I just wanted to ask you something. Why don’t the STF agents love to eat cafeteria food? From what I can see, the Nourishing Meal has meat and vegetables, and it’s pretty rich in nutrition.”

The handsome lad is silent for a moment before responding to my question.

“The healthy meals place too much focus on health, and they don’t taste any better than the small stalls outside.”

“Captain Gavin, the materials from yesterday’s case have been tidied up.”

“Mm, I’ll have a look at them.”

The handsome lad who was addressed as “Captain Gavin” sees that I have no further questions. Giving me a nod, he takes large strides towards the office.

With a frown, I take a bite out of a celery meat bun. Aside from the taste being slightly bland, I don’t find anything wrong with it. Furthermore, adding too much salt would reduce its nutritional value, so it’s a given that less salt would be added to it.

However, since this point was brought up, it means there’s room for improvement.

In order to prepare food that better suits the palate of STF, I spend a whole week lying low and observing the favourite eateries that the STF agents enjoy eating most, and try out all of their famous dishes.

Based on their palate, I meticulously prepare a modified version of trial dishes.

On the first day of introducing the trial dishes, I brim with enthusiasm while bringing out a “New Dishes to Try” signboard, thinking that this would raise the reputation of the STF’s cafeteria. However, even after half a day, the only things that enter are mosquitoes which I swat to death.

There’s a cold breeze at the entrance. I look at the clock hanging on the wall of the cafeteria - lunchtime is almost over.

Deciding not to wait any longer, I head outside, planning to grab a few people in to try the dishes.

The moment I step outside, my eyes brighten when I see that lad from before.

His footsteps are hurried, and he has a packet of instant noodles in his hand. He probably has to deal with some urgent matters, which is why he has to make do with that for lunch.

How is that good? An STF agent eating instant noodles? Where would I, a nutritionist, hide my pride? I hurriedly stop him.

“Young lad, there are new dishes in the cafeteria. Since you’re about to eat, why don’t you try the cafeteria? It’d be a quick meal.”

He pauses in his footsteps for a slight moment, his refusal ready. However, when he sees the menu behind me, he suddenly blinks, then looks up to give me a nod.

“I’ll have to trouble you then.”

With this, he walks into the cafeteria. I look at the menu. There’s only a simple line written on it - “Today’s Special: Chicken with Chilli”.

Does he like eating chicken with chilli?

[Note] To be precise, this dish is called 辣子鸡 (là zǐ jī). It’s a a stir-fried dish consisting of marinated then deep-fried pieces of chicken, dried Sichuan chilli peppers, spicy bean paste, Sichuan peppers, garlic, and ginger.

[ Chapter Two ]

The young man eats quickly and seriously. Ignoring the fact that that he’s eating at an unhealthy pace, I feel very relieved. When he walks over to return the tray, I ask him a question.

“You’re done, young lad? How’s the taste? Do you think there’s anything to improve on?”

The young man sets the tray down. After a moment of serious contemplation, he give his response.

“The taste isn’t bad. If you’re asking for suggestions, since it’s chicken with chilli, you could add a little more chilli.”

I record his suggestions in my notebook earnestly. At the same time, I’m secretly amazed at how members of the STF are truly talented individuals. I created this chicken with chilli dish based on the spice levels in Sichuan cuisine, but he still didn’t find it spicy enough.

Look like there’s much room for improvement in future dishes.

-

The next day, I continue with my plan to introduce trial dishes. However, most of the STF agents are already used to eating out. The ones who try the dishes are few and far between. Just as lunchtime is about to end, a familiar figure once again appears at the door of the cafeteria.

He’s the young man who ate the chicken with chilli yesterday.

He walks straight in, taking a tray and getting food. Although he doesn’t say anything, I feel very moved, and wonder if this kid dropped by specially to support the canteen’s business.

I inform him that red braised pork is being served today, accompanied with bitter gourd and scrambled eggs. He seems a little hesitant when he sees the bitter gourd. But in the end, he doesn’t say anything, finding a place to sit down and eat.

-

Over the next two weeks, it seems that as long as he isn’t out on missions or doing anything else, that young man would come to the cafeteria.

It appears that he’s a Captain or something. With his impetus, more and more people gradually eat in the cafeteria, and I have a better understanding of his reticent young man.

His name is Gavin, and he’s the Captain of the Special Ops Team. I heard that the Special Ops team is the hardest squad to get into within the STF. They are one of the very best in terms of resolved cases. Everyone in the team are the cream of the crop, much less the Captain.

I heard about how this Captain usually rushes to the most forefront when faced with any danger, which is why he receives much adoration from the team. Of course, the number of injuries and stack of silk banners in the storeroom are proportional to each other.

On the days when he isn’t around, there’s a high chance that he’s out on a mission, or having his injuries treated in the infirmary.

-

“Aunt Wang, give me the same chicken with chilli as Captain Gavin!”

A red-haired agent’s voice pulls me back to reality. He carries a tray, pointing at the chicken with chilli from across the glass. I give him a huge scoop of it. He carries the tray and sits at a row of tables close to the window. There are quite a number of people donning the same uniform, and Gavin is one of them.

“Captain Gavin, why have you fled from our braised beef noodles alliance? You’ve also stopped eating cup noodles with us when we work overtime.”

“Mm, this is something you’re unaware of. Our Captain Gavin has someone who cares for him.”

"Last time, that Miss Producer was filming something and gave us handmade biscuits. You were on leave so you didn’t know about this. Captain Gavin’s biscuits were several times more exquisite than ours. They were even heart-shaped.”

The agents wink at each other and chatter on incessantly. Gavin, the main topic of the conversation, continues eating calmly. When he finally feels slightly annoyed by the clamour, he puts down his chopsticks, glancing at the red-haired agent.

“Tang Chao, it seems that your stamina is getting better with your daily laps.”

“You’ll be my partner for the next mission.”

The red-haired agent immediately pulls a long face.

“Captain Gavin, it's not that I don’t want to be your partner. But based on my fighting skills, I’ll only be a burden to you.”

“I’ll continue shining as a support personnel, and be an emotionless lie detector for the Special Ops Team!”

Gavin ignores the red-haired officer whose name is Tang Chao. But when he lowers his head to drink the soup, I can see his slightly arched brows.

Over the past two weeks, I’ve always been seeing his composed and chilly side, and even thought that was his personality. It turns that he’s still a young man. It’s just that he hides that unrestrained aura that young people have, and doesn’t display it easily.

Perhaps that’s the fetter of being a Captain.

Looking at these young people, I suddenly feel as though I’ve found the reason why my trial dishes have not been successful.

It’s probably because I’ve never tried to truly understand this group of young people.

[ Chapter Three ]

I’m no longer stubborn when it comes to the dishes. Instead, I pay more attention to observing the dietary habits of this group of young people. Gradually, many more pages on the notebook which I use to record modified recipes are written on.

Everything goes smoothly. However, I notice that Gavin hasn’t visited the cafeteria for meals in a long while.

When the red-haired officer comes to collect his food, I scoop pork ribs and winter melon soup for him, and find myself asking him a question.

“Why hasn’t your Captain been coming down to eat in the cafeteria these days?”

He scratches his head, his tone less carefree as before.

“Captain Gavin’s injuries from this mission were a little more serious, so he’s still getting treated in the hospital.”

Before coming to the STF, the word “injuries” was associated with a sliced finger from cutting vegetables, or being scratched while playing with a cat. But after coming to the STF, I realised that there are many other ways people can get hurt.

The STF has doctors who understand Evolvers most in the whole of Loveland City. Logically speaking, even if it’s a fracture or external bleeding, patients can typically be discharged in a week.

That young man called Gavin hasn’t appeared in such a long time. Is he severely injured?

Even though we haven’t exchanged many words, I can’t help but worry about that young man.

He’s still so young. If anything were to happen to him, how worried would his family members be?

Perhaps due to the fact that he was the first agent willing to try food from the cafeteria, I find myself being more concerned about him, and wanting to know more about him. However, STF agents are disciplined and strict. When they’re eating in the cafeteria, they rarely mention Gavin. When he’s occasionally brought up, they say things that I’m unable to understand.

“She went to the hospital again today.”

“That’s fine. Her presence at the hospital is much more useful than a few of us going. At least Captain Gavin would smile a little when he sees her. When we’re there, we’re like stalks of grain, and can do nothing but watch helplessly.”

“The next time the ‘Snake’ bites, we can’t let Captain Gavin hold the fort again.”

In the fog of their conversation, I’m unable to understand anything. I’m getting old, and my ears aren’t as useful. I shake my head, turning around and heading back into the kitchen.

-

Just when I think Gavin’s injuries have rendered him unable to return to the team, he appears.

While I’m writing the lunch menu on the whiteboard, I spot Gavin and his squad mates walking in together. He has become much thinner, and looks very pale. Even so, his entire frame remains as solemn as always, a sense of sharpness emanating from him.

When I hand him braised beef noodles, he gives me a nod.

“Thanks.”

He picks up the chopsticks and eats the noodles. When he sees the slices of beef in the bowl, he’s slightly stunned. However, he returns to normal in an instant, continuing to eat as usual.

When they’re halfway through eating, the communication device at Gavin’s waist suddenly beeps. He presses the communication device, his expression changing when he hears the message.

“The ‘Snake’ has left the hole. Take action.”

With his command, everyone abandon their meal and hurriedly leave the cafeteria.

When Gavin passes by me, I can see traces of blood on the side of his sleeve.

It appears that he’s leaving for a mission before his wounds have completely healed.

The cafeteria lapses into silence. I tidy the table, looking at the beef noodles which only had a few bites taken out of it, and let out a heavy sigh.

I know how difficult it is to join the STF. People who join the STF are so incredible. But I still wish to know what kind of reasons would make such a young person charge forward and risk his life to the point where he can’t even have a proper meal.

[ Chapter Four ]

It’s very late at night, but the STF remains brightly lit.

Similar to the busy agents, I haven’t left either.

After this period of research and testing dishes, I discovered that the people here aren’t picky. They simply lack the time to sit down and eat slowly.

With this in mind, I restart the dish modifications.

The television in the cafeteria is currently showing the Loveland News. The host is reporting on something about “Evol Assassination Incidents”, and is criticising how the STF hasn’t been doing anything about them.

“Things here are turning upside down from how busy they are, and the infirmary is filled with people. And you claim that they aren’t doing anything? Reporters are so irresponsible these days.”

I shake my head, switching the television off. After calling a few colleagues over, we carry supper to the infirmary.

Due to the incident the news was reporting about, the STF has been in a mess recently. I heard that there aren’t enough beds in the infirmary for use.

My heart aches from how these kids are getting criticised even after getting injured. I’ve prepared sweet soup suitable for evening consumption, bringing them to the infirmary while they get treated.

While passing by the Captain’s office, I notice that the door isn’t closed, and I see someone standing inside.

It’s Gavin.

His side is facing the door, his hair is messy, and he’s leaning against the wall. One of his legs is lifted up, and he’s currently pursing his lips as he removes his combat gloves.

He appears to have lacked sleep for several days, and quiet fatigue emanates from his entire frame.

However, he doesn’t seem to have shown this side of him to anyone outside, demanding himself to only leave this version of himself to an empty office in the depths of night.

I knock on the door. The moment he hears this, he quickly straightens up, his sharp gaze sweeping over. When he sees that it’s me, his amber eyes are stunned, and he nods.

“Please come in.”

Walking in, I place a bowl of snow fungus soup on his table.

“Everyone has been working hard in the bureau lately. We decided to make some sweet soup for all of you to relieve the fatigue. Drink this soup while it’s hot. There’s Chinese wolf berry and longan in it, so it’s pretty nourishing.”

Gavin nods. Stray hairs stick messily against the sides of his eyes and brows. I’m guessing that since he’s a kid who usually puts up a strong front, he probably doesn’t like others seeing his sorry state. I hurriedly wave my hands to signal that I’m leaving.

Before I walk out of the door, Gavin suddenly asks me a question.

“Aunt Wang, is your cafeteria recipe modification going smoothly?”

I can hardly believe that he actually remembered such a trivial matter.

Just how many things does he concern himself with?

“Very smoothly. I’ve been looking into a new fast-food style beef noodles, and plan to introduce it to the bureau.”

“Fast-food beef noodles?”

“Mm. There used to be very few people in the cafeteria because I only paid attention to maintaining the nutritional value of dishes. But if people don’t even have the time to eat, how can I talk about nutrition?”

“Right now, I’m looking into preparing beef noodles that are both nutritious and can be eaten really quickly. Such noodles are more diverse in flavour, and the nutritional value is easy to maintain.”

After saying all of this, I follow up with a question.

“But I'm still considering whether to use bean sprouts or eggs as a substitute. Which do you prefer?”

Perhaps few people have asked him something as trivial as his dietary preferences. He gives this very serious thought before providing a careful answer.

“I’d prefer eggs.”

I nod, then find myself giving him my sincere and earnest wishes.

“No matter how busy work is, you need to have proper meals. Even though rice and vegetables seem simple, they are part of life.”

“Whenever you head forward so urgently, have you ever thought of whether you might be forcing yourself too much?”

When Gavin hears this, he’s taken back. I don’t continue. With a sigh, I turn around and leave.

[ Chapter Five ]

The new fast-food beef noodles introduced in the canteen received a huge welcome amongst the agents. It became the favourite supper of agents who worked overtime on cases. Given the positive responses, I also released different flavoured fast-food products. 

With this signature dish, the STF canteen finally became lively every day.

But the strange things is, I didn’t see Gavin for a very long time. I heard that he... temporarily relieved himself of his duties.

I have no idea what happened, but I trust that he had his reasons, and I silently hope that the kid can be safe.

Afterwards, a strange fog enveloped Loveland City. I was protected by STF agents, and later heard that Gavin was the one who retrieved the fog.

-

I’m just about to prepare dinner in the cafeteria when I hear the news that Gavin’s in the hospital. News related to the STF’s retrieval of the fog is being broadcasted, and Gavin’s powerful and resounding voice can be heard.

“This round of the Hunter Game is over.”

I lift my head to see that familiar figure on the television, determined and composed.

“Thank you all for protecting the dignity of this city.”

When he had meals in the cafeteria before, I often wondered how this taciturn young man could persevere on his own, shouldering high pressure that ordinary people find difficult, and also protect tens of thousands of ordinary people.

Right now, I understand.

It’s because he has a heart of justice that’s gentler and more unwavering than anyone else - 

And this heart has guided him onto a path destined to be rugged, where he will pursue justice with no second thoughts.

But I’m still a little puzzled. Doesn’t he find it lonely when walking down this path?

With the assistance of the red-haired agent, I carry chicken wonton soup to Gavin’s hospital ward.

The door is closed, and I can hear an indistinct voice of a girl drifting from the inside.

From across the glass, I see a girl sitting at the bedside, a pink bento box on the table.

The girl is resting a hand against her cheek while supervising Gavin as he eats the bento. Meanwhile, the young man sitting on the bed is eating it one mouthful at a time, earnestly and tenderly.

For some reason, I find myself grinning.

On this path filled with ups and downs, someone is willing to accompany him, wait for him, sit down together with him, and have a serious, proper meal with him.

I leave the hospital with the thermos box.

Being here for so many days, I’ve grown used to this place, grown used to the whistle at 6.30am in the morning, grown used to the agents finishing their meals within ten minutes and rushing off, and grown used to the lights in STF illuminating my path like starlight when I’m heading home at night.

My old companion often asks why an oldie like me continues going to the STF. 

It’s because I can see a broader world here. I can see souls with determined spirits. I’ve never felt more alive and fulfilled in my entire lifetime.

This is the meaning that STF gives me.

I hope that the young man called Gavin, as well as the countless young people who are like Gavin, will always lead a fulfilling life.

...and that they may always be safe.

May he, along with the girl he watches silently, return to life through every meal while embracing justice.

��� More S2 content: here

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[nanaminokanojo]

BLOOM | Sukuna X You | Part 2/3

CHARACTERS: Sukuna X You | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Maki | Fushiguro Toji | Baby Megumi | Megumi's Mom (OC) CHAPTER COUNT: 2/3 WORD COUNT: 8600+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | (eventual) smut | ooc sukuna | female reader | modern au CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity/strong language | alcohol use | age gap | some mentions of death | mild sexual content SPOILERS: N/A

collection masterlist

one two three | Bloom Masterlist

You got up really early despite staying up late and only getting five hours of sleep max, but once you woke up, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to bed so you prepared for the day, waiting for Sukuna’s call. You went to the patio which faced the backyard, carried a small blanket and brought your battered copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s prose collection with you.

A few hour later, you heard stirring in the house and it wasn’t long before Satoru found you. He sat on the lounge chair opposite yours and just stared at you through sleepy eyes. He looked all disheveled, eyes bloodshot and yawning several times. He really couldn’t handle his alcohol and when he wakes up after drinking more than he could take, he always ends up befuddled and unable to make sense of his surroundings, not to mention irritable.

When he just sat there without saying anything and staring at you, you snapped your book close. “What is it?”

He snapped out of a seeming trance. “Oh. You have a guest.”

“Huh?”

“Ieiri said it’s Howard.” He yawned again, stretching his arms.

“Sukuna?”

“Yes, him.”

You scrambled off the lounge chair, nearly knocking it to the side with your weight as you half crawled, half-ran towards the door, suddenly remembering your agreement the previous night. You were mentally slapping yourself as you made your way into the hallway, planning to go up to your room to have a change of clothes. You weren’t sure what he wanted to do because he did not exactly specify that bit.

However, your plans did not come into fruition when you passed by the lattice wood and glass partition between the kitchen and the hallway and saw him.

“Y/N!” Ieiri pretty much yelled your name out, calling your attention and making you jump, startled. “Howard’s here.”

Sukuna glanced at her momentarily, probably catching the name she referred to him with.

The protest died in your throat when you saw Sukuna standing by the counter, looking so out of place in such a domestic setting although he was dressed casually in a black tee with a wide collar that exposed his collarbones for the world to see and faded jeans, similar to the one he wore that time he came to your school.

You grimaced at the realization that you were just standing there like an oaf, checking him out. It was evident in the way his smile morphed into a shy one as he bit his lower lip while Ieiri and Suguru grinned evilly at you. Feigning ignorance to their reactions, you entered the kitchen, brows knit together, shooting Ieiri an inquisitorial look after nodding at Sukuna’s direction. It was a dumb way of greeting people, but that was about what you could manage with the way your brain was being fried at the mere sight of him.

“I didn’t know we received guests in the kitchen now,” you commented, noticing the number of grocery bags on the counter. “You did the shopping?”

“I did,” Sukuna answered you. “I told you I was going to do something for you.”

“'You' being the technical term,” you said with a smirk when you realized what he was planning. “So you’re gonna cook for me?”

“Yes.”

You eyed your two friends who were eyeing Sukuna in anticipation. “Just me?”

“Stingy,” Ieiri commented, pouting.

Woman, you thought, eyeing her sternly in case she had plans to say something embarrassing. You spoke before she could say more, approaching Sukuna who was suddenly just looking at you, your eyes in particular. Out of a sudden, he reached out and touched the spot just under your left eye, making you step back at the sudden contact. He was touchy, you knew that, but you weren’t expecting him to be so candid in front of your friends on such a setting.

“Your eyes are swollen. Is something the matter?”

You smiled at him then, shaking your head. “I didn’t sleep enough last night.” You busied yourself by checking the things he bought. “So…” You looked at his pretty hands then at him. “The Spring God can cook?”

He gave you a funny look at the nickname you gave him. “Watch the Kitchen God work!” He chuckled then turned his attention to Ieiri. “I was just asking Ieiri if I could borrow the kitchen.”

“It’s more Suguru’s kitchen than hers,” you sniped at her who was now sitting on the counter, chin on the heel of her palm as she looked at the pair of you as if she was watching a really cheesy romance drama.

“Then it’s settled. I have to cook for them, too.” He ruffled your hair then. “Mind helping me?”

“I’ll leave you kids then,” she said sounding like a mom, leaving the kitchen and blocking Satoru’s progress when he was about to enter, leading him out into the living room much to the latter’s annoyance.

You shook your head, snickering. You really couldn’t wrap yourself around the fact that Sukuna could cook. “Should I get you an apron, chef?” you asked, meaning to taunt him, but then he took out a rolled-out piece of black cloth from a black case he brought along with the groceries and said, “I brought my own.”

Knowing that you can’t say anything else to annoy him about cooking, you started sorting out the things he brought, taking them out of the bags and fixing them in an organized way on the counter while he proceeded to take the foodstuff to the sink. All the while, you were watching him as he cleaned everything, his dexterous hands moving with precision and unmistakable expertise.

After fixing everything and putting away the bags, you stood beside him on the sink. “You do this a lot?”

“Pretty much.”

It was fascinating to watch him work so you didn’t say anything else until he took the case again and produced a professional-looking set of knives with customized handles. “Okay, now I’m scared.” You arched a brow at him. “Why the hell do you have a knife set?”

“I love to cook,” he answered, laughing slightly without taking his eyes from what he was doing.

“I figured, but I thought, you know just cooking at home, following online recipes and stuff like that.”

At that, he laughed. “Those recipes don’t work half the time.”

“Oh, okay,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes at his sentiment but then you saw how he was cutting the ingredients on the chopping board like a pro. “I’ll be damned.”

“What?”

“Now I mind assisting you. I refuse.” You felt a bit miffed about his mad skills in the kitchen, and you knew it would be foolish to even question how his dish, or dishes rather, was going to turn out. It got you thinking about every other thing he can possibly do, and you found yourself falling deeper. “I’m shit in the kitchen. You can have Suguru to help you.”

“But I already asked him for help yesterday to plan all this.”

“Did you now?” Your eyes flicked over to the counter that divided the kitchen and the living room and glared at your friend, remembering your conversation with him. He threw you a rueful smile.

Sukuna pouted. “You can’t take it back. Surely, you can chop onions.”

“I guess.” You took out a knife from the rack and grabbed an onion. “How do you like it?”

“Minced.”

“Okay.” You started chopping the thing rather slowly, trying to be precise, but since you were taking too long, your eyes started watering before you could even get it halfway done. “Ah, shit!” you grumbled, putting the knife down rather harshly.

Sukuna laughed, turning you around so you were facing him. “Are you okay?” he asked in between laughter, wiping your tears away with some paper towels. “You were too slow.”

You screwed your eyes shut, still feeling the sting behind your eyelids. “Well, I don’t cook.” When you opened your eyes, you almost stopped breathing when you saw those dark orbs of his directly in front of you.

“Oh no, sweetheart, you’re crying,” he cooed.

“Onion…” You took the paper towel from him and started wiping your eyes yourself, turning away from him when you saw the teasing beam on his face. “Shut up.”

“You’re cute.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “You’re so annoying.”

“I’m cooking for you, and I’m annoying? Let’s see how that opinion changes once you taste this masterpiece.”

You did not say anything about the matter anymore and instead watched him work, handing him this and that and doing as he tells you. Sukuna was kinda scary to work with since he obviously had a fixed process about how things should be done, but at the same time, you found yourself mesmerized by his fluidity as he moved around as if he had been in the kitchen his whole life.

“What are you making anyway?” you asked as you were putting away the things he didn’t need anymore.

He looked over his shoulder as he stirred whatever he was making. “That’s a secret.”

You shrugged, looking into the pot. “Just tell me already.”

He placed his free arm around your waist, pulling you to his side, seemingly oblivious to the three pairs of eyes which looked towards the direction of the kitchen every so often, spying on the two of you. “Patience, sweetheart. You’re gonna spoil the surprise.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you whined.

He planted a quick kiss on your forehead. “You’ll see.”

By the time Sukuna was done, your dining room looked more like a five-star restaurant than that of one owned by four university students. Well, the table did. You weren’t really familiar with the dishes he prepared since he won’t tell you what they were. You only recognized the lobster thermidor, but all the others were a mystery.

Your friends were thrilled when they saw the table and you were just stunned. You pretty much just watched Sukuna, but he didn’t let you see what he was doing in the dining room, making you promise to sit down in the pantry while he prepared. He went overboard, but you loved it, too.

“I feel like I’m going to pay with all the contents of my bank account after this meal,” Suguru said as he sat down at the edge of the table, making Sukuna laugh.

You sat to his left while the chef sat beside you, explaining the dishes to you and the three other people with you with such technical terms, half of which you didn’t really understand. Suguru did though. Sukuna plated the first dish and offered it to them.

“I hope you would find them to your liking,” he said.

“Y/N’s grandpa would be super impressed if he was here to see this,” Ieiri asked.

You snorted. “Oh my god, Ieri, what are you being such a pain for?” You turned to Sukuna then who looked at you questioningly, but you pretended not to notice. “And you, chill and eat. They can get their own food.” He grinned at you but instead of serving food for himself, he started putting food on your plate. You watched him pointedly. “I can do that myself. Eat!”

“In a bit.” He finished by placing sauce on the lobster then smiled your way before getting food for himself.

“This is phenomenal cooking, man,” Satoru commented delightedly at the first bite, seemingly forgetting about his headache, and Suguru made a sound of approval, eating with gusto. “Will you cook for us every day?”

“Suguru!” you protested.

Sukuna laughed at that. “Maybe not every day.”

You shot him an annoyed look but ate as well. They were right. His cooking was beyond good. “On second thoughts, I don’t mind you cooking for us every day, too. This is totally great!”

“Told you.”

The meal was rather pleasant with your pals engaging Sukuna, obviously taken by him. The deal was sealed where he was concerned. You knew it had nothing to do with the food. They just liked him. He mostly conversed with them while you just pitched in once in a while, too busy eating. Besides, you wanted them to get to know him, too, and you were more than glad that Sukuna was making the effort to be acquainted to them.

After lunch, Suguru and Satoru volunteered to do the dishes, in a very good mood after the magical meal while Ieiri tidied up, leaving you and Sukuna alone. You decided to tour him around the house although there was nothing much to see, leading him into the upstairs hallways. Your house was quite big for only the four of you, but not stately or anything. It was just a normal house with too few inhabitants and too many rooms.

You walked towards the west hall. “Those are all guest rooms and those at the end of the hallway are Satoru and Suguru’s rooms.”

“Where’s yours?” he asked.

You cocked your head towards the east hallway, beckoning him to follow you as you led the way to said room, pointing out the other rooms you passed by, just three of them until you reached the last door. You pushed the door open and gestured for him to enter.

“Huge space,” he commented as he looked appraisingly around, his feet leading him to the large, framed posters of your favorite book-based films and games. “You are a nerd.”

You just watched him, leaning against one of your bookshelves as he ran a finger over your "Harry Potter" movie poster. “Guilty.”

Sukuna then went look at your book collection. “It’s not bad.”

“I’m a literature major. I think it makes sense.”

“Books and more books. How many of these have you actually read?” he asked, taking your volume of "Twelfth Night."

“All of them.”

He eyed you, evidently impressed. “Shakespeare?”

“Yeah. That’s basic in my field.”

“You’re amazing, Y/N.” He reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Beautiful, cultured and smart. I like it.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Shut up.”

“It’s true.” He returned the book on its place. “So, apart from literature, what else are you interested in?” He glanced at the glass case at the opposite end of the room where your scale-model figures and rows upon rows of console games were. “Well, apart from action figures and video games.”

“Hmm.” You pretended to be brooding over it. “Well, recently, I’ve just been interested in one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“You.”

He chuckled, pulling you towards him, the warmth of his hands burning through the fabric of your shirt, making you all giddy. “Alright, sweetheart. Your brutal frankness is really scaring me.”

“Door’s wide open. You can run.”

“You won’t chase after me?” he asked.

“You’re gonna wanna see me after anyway, so no.”

“Hey, that’s mean!” But then, he seemed to have thought of something. “Why does Ieiri call me ‘Howard’?”

You retreated from him and slumped down one of the beanbags while he sat on your swivel chair, turning it a hundred and eighty degrees repeatedly. “You caught that, huh?” You couldn’t suppress the laughter that bubbled from your throat at his question. “I didn’t know your name the night we met but Satoru told them about you and I kinda just used the name to refer to you. You know, from the book I was reading at Maki’s.”

“The architect.”

“That one.”

“I see. I don’t mind then since you told me you’re in love with the character.” He winked at you. “But yeah, I was wondering if you enjoyed the meal at all. You haven’t said anything.”

“That speaks volumes of how much I enjoyed it.”

“I’m not really good at this whole impressing anybody thing, but I wanted to make the effort for you and your friends.” Sukuna sighed in relief. “I’ve only ever had one girlfriend after all, and I didn’t really do much in the relationship. And I never really went out with other women after that either save for some casual dates.” He smiled sheepishly at you, but he was confused at your reaction.

You just stared at him quizzically and in disbelief. There was no way you will ever believe that he only dated steadily once and didn’t go out that much to paint the town red. It was inconceivable for the obvious fact that he was so beautiful it was inhuman along with that great personality he has. Women will be lining up for him for sure.

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true.”

You shook your head, looking dubiously at him. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“Nope.” He shook his head as if to punctuate his statement.

“Everywhere we go, girls look at you and you expect me to believe that crap?” Hell, you wanted to pounce on him more often than not.

His expressions turned smug. “You care enough to notice, I see.”

It was unbelievable but you had to take his word for it. “You don’t sleep around either?”

“No. It just isn’t my thing.”

You just stared at him, your lower lip jutting out, not in disbelief anymore but in wonder. He’s a sensitive soul, you’ve figured that out, but you didn’t know it ran deeper than what you’ve seen so far.

“Don’t look so sad there.”

“I’m not. I really just don’t see it happening.”

“Should I be flattered?” he asked, but before you could answer, he said, “How about you?”

You swallowed hard, suddenly thinking hard about what you’re going to say to him. You didn’t really have a good track record where dating seriously was concerned. It was just not your cup of tea. “I’ve never had an exclusive relationship...” you began, eyeing him cautiously, “…ever.”

“Never?” He seemed to be having difficulty processing that.

You shook your head, your gaze guarded as you tried to gauge his reaction to your revelation. Somehow, you did not expect him to ask about the matter, and when he did, you didn’t really have a clue as to how you would address it. You realized just how different you were from him on that department. He seemed to value the emotions that come with engaging in physical intimacy while you just didn’t care enough for anyone to notice it.

“Now you’re shitting me.”

“I’m telling you the truth.” You frowned. “I think I mentioned this to you in passing the second time we met. I don’t date, at least not steadily.”

Sukuna obviously couldn’t wrap his head around the thought. “So you haven’t had a steady commitment with anyone?”

Again with the negative response. “Uh-uh.”

“Is it a matter of choice or is it a matter incapability, this I-don’t-date thing?”

“Both?” You shrugged, trying to think of a way to explain it to him. “I don’t for the reason that I don’t want to make a steady commitment. I just don’t see myself being invested with such intensity in anyone in a romantic way.”

“And why can’t you?”

“I get sick of people I’m involved with. In that manner, at least.” You chuckled humorlessly. “So…yeah.”

“But you’ve dated, right?”

You nodded. “Openly, yes, but I don’t stay long enough to really get into the whole relationship thing.” Talking about it was excruciating. It wasn’t something you discussed even with your friends. Suguru thought of it as you playing the field, but really, you had issues with the prospect of staying in an established bond with one person for a long period of time. You didn’t really know what to do with the information although you understood the mechanics.

He frowned then, looking deeply troubled. “So, you don’t date?”

“I did not date.” You made sure to emphasize on the past tense, knowing well what he would be assuming. “'Did not' being the operative term.”

“And now?” he asked, standing up when you did, too.

You stepped towards him. “What do you want it to be? It doesn’t just depend on me.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said patiently, coming to meet you halfway and cupping your face as he tilted his head down to look at you squarely in the eyes. “But I do want you for the long run.”

“For now, it’s just that you’re slowly changing my views about it,” you returned. “But I like you, Sukuna. And I care about you. A hell lot. Does that answer your question?”

He nodded.

You reached up, touching his face, running your finger over his jawline. “Can we work with that?”

He pressed his lips onto your forehead, wrapping his arms around you. “Count on it.”

***

"How do I look?" you asked as you walked into the living room in the black, long-sleeved, backless, lace mini cocktail dress that Ieiri chose for you, your pencil heels of the same color clacking on the tiled flooring. You found your three friends lined up on the couch like expectant parents who were sending off their daughter to her first dance, making you laugh.

"Stunning!" Satoru complimented without hesitation, jumping up the couch to make his way to you. "Our daughter's grown up, Suguru."

"Last time I checked, I'm the only one who was raising her," the other male replied.

"You did a good job."

"I did a good job," Ieiri chimed in.

You shook your head, checking the contents of your clutch. It was hopeless trying to get a proper answer from them, but you needed their output since you were new to the whole dressing-up for dinner thing because you never really allowed anyone to wine-and-dine you; never wasted time and resources on anybody you knew you weren’t exactly interested in for the long run. Still, you were more than happy to say yes to Sukuna when he said he'll be taking you to dinner after your exams.

He's been hanging around you almost every day since he cooked lunch at your place, making good on his words to you where the status of your relationship was involved. He would either come see you in the morning before he went to work or meet you at night for a quick drink at Maki's pub. At times, he'd be dropping by at your school during his breaks. And on the previous weekend, he came over, satisfying himself by sitting quietly on the couch with you leaning against his chest while you studied, even going through lengths of helping you out. At some point, you gave up cause he was distracting you, telling you about his plans while playing with your hair.

"You're gonna cook for me," you assumed.

"No. I'm taking you to that fancy restaurant in town."

You agreed without protests even when he refused after you suggested to split the bill knowing how expensive the place could be. You didn’t want him to think you were mooching off him just because he was older and you’re a broke university student. He seemed excited about the whole thing, so you didn't argue further.

Just then, you heard the sound of a car stopping in front of the house, and you made your way to the door despite Ieiri's tirade about you supposedly making the man walk to your door and ringing the bell, probably make him wait, too. Knowing Sukuna, he'll do just that but you didn't want them to pull their antics while that cliché scene by the doorstep unfolded. But she beat you to it, running a lot faster than you to open the door when you were halfway through the short hallway. Just as you were afraid of, Satoru and Suguru were also standing at the other end of the hallway.

"Guys!" you growled.

"We just wanna see you off," Suguru whined just as Ieiri said, "Hi, Howard."

"Hi," Sukuna returned the greeting, even waving at the boys behind you, looking debonair in a smart-casual charcoal grey ensemble over black, collarless button-downs.

Your annoyance died down at the sight of him and you felt yourself melting when your eyes finally met and he beamed brightly as he took in your appearance, looking like he was seeing color for the first time.

"Ready?" he asked and you nodded, stepping around Ieiri. "We're going" you told your friends, shooting them all warning looks before breaking into a nervous smile anyway as Sukuna led you away.

He opened the door to the passenger side of his... "Where's your Jeep?" you asked him, noticing the matte black sports car for the first time.

"At home," he told you. "I thought I'd switch it up for the occasion."

You shook your head as you climbed in, not really expecting him to go to that extent. You appreciated it but you weren't really high maintenance nor did you want the finer things. "So you just happened to have a Porsche 911 lying around?" you asked him when he finally made it to the driver's seat.

He nodded innocently. "I got it on a whim last year, but I decided it's too flashy so I had it stored at an exclusive garage and only took it out whenever I felt like it. I think this is a good time to take it for a spin."

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to." He reached out to caress your cheek. "You're a vision, by the way."

You felt heat suffuse your cheeks at his gentle touch, but you held his hand in place as you faced him. "I could say the same for you."

"I always wear suits though," he said.

"Well, you're much too impatient with your blazers and you get rid of them when we meet," you began, "And you don't wear those for me."

He flashed you a cheeky grin. "Oh, so you want your men to dress for you?"

"Man, Sukuna. Singular."

It was his turn to blush. "I'm the only one, huh?"

You tilted your head to the side, smirking. "You wanna add someone else into the mix? I didn’t know you were into that."

He was flustered. "No?"

"If you have an exact replica, I wouldn't mind."

Sukuna burst out laughing. "You're crazy."

"It's your fault for hijacking my brain all the time."

Dinner had been great with the both of you pretty much making fun of the numerous silverware before you and making up stories of the haughty guests who came into the same fancy restaurant, some of whom were looking towards your direction.

"That one's a trophy wife," you told him, furtively glancing at the couple that entered. "She's all iced up but look at how her husband is interacting with the waitress."

"You can tell just by that?" he asked.

"I'm guessing they're regulars here and the waitress is one of those he is having an extramarital affair with just judging by the way she looked at him and how she's being all cozy with him." You chuckled. "Ah, now Mrs. X is unhappy. Pretty and bejeweled but very unhappy."

"What about that man there?" He mimicked the way you looked at the couple earlier, this time referring to that one by the glass walls at the corner.

"Oh that one? He's that demanding type who only wants to sit on his usual spot. He's hypochondriac. He's been wiping all the silverware."

Sukuna was obviously amused. "You observe people like this all the time?"

"I aspire to be a novelist if not a literature professor. I watch people to come up with stories, so it doesn't always mean what I'm saying about them is true. I just make it up as I go." You laughed. "But Suguru is a better writer than I am."

"Is he now?"

You nodded, eyes scanning the area. "That old lady is a rich widow who is keeping tradition alive."

He followed your line of vision. "Because she's wearing traditional garb?"

You shook your head. "Because she is alone with that sorrowful look on her face, and she has an extra serving of a meal across her which had been untouched since she ordered in. She's on a date with her dead husband. The empty seat is for him. It's their anniversary." You cocked your head towards the empty chair. "She placed that blazer on the backrest which is obviously not hers, and she just opened a wrapped-up present and made a show of presenting it to whoever should be seated there. Looked like men’s watch to me."

That same old woman stood by your table later in the evening to say, "You are a lovely couple. Cherish each other." And she also paid for a bottle of expensive wine which Sukuna asked to be wrapped for the two of you to take home.

"Looks like you're right about that one," he said as he drove you back to his place.

You nodded, smiling to yourself. "She was right, too," you murmured.

He blinked then looked at you. "Did you say something?"

"Nope."

If you were impressed with the Porsche, his place was even more amazing. The whole place was in scales of black, white and gray but nothing was monotonous about the space. He toured you around the house and it looked uninhabited if it weren't for the signs of life around. But what caught your eye was the shelf full of music, all in vinyl with his gramophone plugged in to a modern sound system. He liked old stuff, his collection ranging from 1903s music to more modern ones here and there.

His living room was strategically placed by the glass walls, providing a view of the cityscape where you found yourself standing, in awe of the sights before you. Just then, the familiar bars of Ben E. King's "Stand by Me" started playing in the background.

You were about to whirl around, but you felt him behind you, wrapping his arm around you as he made you face him. He extended a hand towards you then. You took it without hesitation although you didn't know what he was up to, surprised when he placed your arms on his shoulder while he held onto your waist.

"Dance with me," he said in a low tone as he pulled you closer.

You giggled at that, letting him slowly sway you to the beat while you just looked up at him, drowning in his eyes, his warmth and everything that was him. "I love this song."

He arched a brow at you. "You know Ben E. King?"

"I grew up listening to old music," you told him, nodding as you smiled fondly. "The perks of being a grandpa's girl. You get exposed to great music."

"The movie is my favorite, too."

Your eyes widened. "Really?"

He threw his head back in mock annoyance. "Let me guess. It's your favorite, too?"

"Yes!" you squealed excitedly.

Sukuna clucked his tongue. "You make it hard for me to resist you when you have great music and movie tastes, too."

You looked away, swearing you were beet red now. You playfully smacked him on the chest. "Don't say things like that with a straight face."

His laughter reverberated on his chest when you leaned your forehead against it, hiding your face from him. "Now, you're getting all shy around me?" he teased.

"Shut up," you mumbled, pouting at him but having a hard time as you fought the smile that played at the corners of your mouth.

"Seriously though, Y/N, you don't run out of surprises for me." He leaned his forehead against yours. "Every time, you put something new on the list of things I like about you."

"You have a list?"

He nodded. "It's getting hard to keep up with how long it has become."

"Where does it begin?" you asked out of curiosity.

He raised a hand, his finger tracing the point between your eyebrows. "Your brows furrow just around here when you're concentrating. Just like that time I met you at Maki's."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "It's impressive how you're caught in a world of your own even in such a busy, crowded place."

"I’m just good at ignoring people. But stopped reading the moment you sat beside me." You snickered. "You make it hard to focus, it's an insult to the author when her characters are all beyond just interesting."

"How was I even distracting you? You weren’t even looking at me."

"That's what you thought." You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It's your hair at first, but then you also smelled too good to be true. That did it for me. And before I knew it, every word on the page I was reading became Cyrillic or something."

You didn't even realize that you've both come to a standstill, chuckling as you met his gaze again, only to feel his hand sliding behind your head, his fingers tangling with your hair as he dipped down and seized your lips, tilting his head slightly. It was a gentle kiss, his skilled lips light on yours, introducing his rhythm and flavor of mint mixed with the faint flavor of the wine you've both been drinking as you moved in sync with him.

It drove you crazy how his scent and taste filled every crevice of your being, desensitizing you while also pushing your senses on overdrive at the same time. The feel of his large hands as they secured you to him while his mouth did all the magic made your blood grow hot, the rush you felt inside consuming you. You visibly wobbled when he let go of you, making him look at you in amusement.

"Stay the night?" he asked, breaking into a grin. "I have a copy of our favorite movie. We can finish the wine that kind old lady gave us, and I'll make you pizza."

"You had me at our favorite movie," you said, still a bit dazed and drunk from the taste of him. "I'll stay."

**

Sukuna stood at the foot of his bed as he neatly placed everything you might need on it, running out of his unit to get stuff for you at the nearby convenience store. He glanced over at the door of the adjoining shower, smiling when he heard you humming. Well, he couldn't stop smiling all night seeing how beautiful you were in that black dress. He marveled at how you managed to be even more gorgeous when you were already driving him insane even when you wore sweats to school.

He found beauty in every little thing you did, feeling himself being overwhelmed with amazement even when you were just sitting there reading to how you spoke eloquently about things you were passionate about, the way you told the stories you made up despite how they leaned towards sad things. He found it attractive how you lacked complications and always gave him your honest opinions, how you tell him what was going on inside your mind without bars held.

He loved how kind and loving you are to your friends. It wasn't outward affection but he did notice the small things you did. How one word – "breathe" – would calm Satoru down, how one reassuring squeeze of the hand would pacify Ieiri and how a single look would convey your thoughts to Suguru. He would be jealous of it given any other circumstances, but you did so much more for him by just smiling and cheering him up when you sensed how tired he was from work which was often.

You were sensitive like that, appeared stronger and more resilient than you looked, but he and your friends couldn't help it but dote on you. It was kinda funny how they all referred to you as their daughter at first but when he found out they were doing that because they're the only family you had, he understood why. He understood why you tended to look at things the way you did. It only strengthened his urge to take care of you and protect you at all costs.

“Don’t give me that look,” you’ve told him then when he found out your grandfather, your only guardian and family, passed away three years ago, and you’ve only been living on the small fortune he bequeathed to you upon his death. Your parents were long dead, too, and you were basically alone in life.

He found it amazing that you could talk about the matter without being uncomfortable when he couldn’t even imagine how his life would be if he lost his mother at his age. He understood your independent nature, how you would give him funny looks whenever he volunteered to do something for you and why you were always so insistent on splitting the bill when you went out.

Still, when you said you didn't date steadily, it got him worried. Apart from the possibility that you might not stay with him for as long as he imagined – which made him afraid to breathe at times – he thought you might have issues from being alone too much; that maybe, the reason why you didn’t want to commit was because you didn’t want to open up only to be left alone again when things don’t work out. The way you spoke about the old woman at the restaurant and the way sadness crossed your features as you told him the story you’ve just made up sort of solidified his notions.

That’s exactly the reason why he was happy you weren’t pushing him away or refusing to stay with him. When you said you’ll stay the night, although he found joy in all the times you’ve been around him, he still felt unbelievably happy. Perhaps you were giving him a chance, giving whatever it is that’s between you the opportunity to blossom and just going with wherever and whatever it brings you. He liked that thought.

You came out of his room just as he was taking out the pizza he made, dressed in that oversized, white shirt he brought out for you, the collar askew on your shoulders. You walked into the kitchen running a towel on your hair, leaning on the counter. He almost dropped the pizza when he saw that you’ve forgone the sweats he’d given you, your legs bare from halfway down your thighs.

“I gave you pants, you know.”

You laughed at his words. “They’re too big for me. I returned them in your closet.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Go wait in the living room. I’ll be finished here in a bit.”

You did as you were told, much to his relief but still went to the extent of getting you a blanket in case you wanted to cover up, not that he minded looking at your legs. Nevertheless, he preferred not to with all the thoughts running amok in his head. He wanted to take things slow with you even if you were proving to be his kryptonite. You thanked him for it, happily munching on the pizza he made as the movie started.

“I can’t believe that woman gave us this expensive wine,” you said as you took a sip from your glass.

“I can’t believe we’re having pizza with it,” he said as he sat at the other end of the couch. The two of you laughed at that, but then he stopped when you did, noticing how you were looking at him with a confused look on your face. “What is it?”

“Why are sitting so far away from me?” you demanded, but instead of him moving towards you, you crawled on the sofa closer to him.

Sukuna reveled in how naturally you took his arm and placed it on your shoulder, leaning against him before adjusting your position and covering the two of you with the blanket. He was glad your guard was down where he was concerned, the fact that you smelled like his shampoo and were wearing his clothes making him all warm and fuzzy inside. He pulled you closer to him, eyes trained on his massive flat screen.

“Sukuna…” you said a few moments later.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You’re too stiff.” You looked up at him, snickering. “I won’t steal your virtue if that’s what you’re scared of.”

He just laughed but it was taking everything he had in him not to do anything when you were tempting him in the most sinful ways, but he forgot all about that when your head lolled against his chest and found you sound asleep. You looked so serene that instead of taking you to bed, he sat there, cradling your form until the movie finished, his fingers playing with your hair.

Sukuna looked down at you, feeling like his chest was about to explode as he breathed in, realizing the depth of how much he felt for you, and although you couldn’t hear it, he said, “I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

***

The crisp morning air blew past the open balcony doors, into the bedroom, rustling the white sheets on his bed that momentarily served as the sanctuary of a tangle of limbs and blankets, cradled by the softness of the mattress and feather-filled pillows. Even breaths rose and fell in sync, filling the wide room. Languid fingers twined with the silkiness of long locks of hair and smooth, bare skin. The bed creaks and Sukuna’s eyes open to the brightness of daylight.

He took in his surroundings, and the first thing he noticed was the pressure on his leg, his left arm just by his shoulder and his chest along with the warmth that was coming from his side. His eyes wandered down to his body to the sheets barely reaching his waist, until finally he found the source of it all.

On his left side was none other than you, pressed to his side with no quantifiable distance separating your bodies but the measly fabric of the shirt you wore. Your hair fell on the pillows and his shoulder which was cushioning your head, your leg crooked across his thighs while your hand lay on his chest in a stagnant caress that suddenly made his whole body burn from the inside. Peering down, he noticed how your brows knit together in an unconscious frown while your thick lashes cast shadows below your closed eyes. Your long, lean legs were exposed to him up to your milky thighs as his shirt which you were wearing rode up, and he could only pray that you won’t move that limb any further or else…

Cursing at himself, he diverted his gaze and realized how his left hand had been running up and down your back. The feel of your warmth against the pads of his fingers sent him to the edge while your scent intoxicated him until he felt sweat beading on his forehead. He knew he was being shallow, but he couldn’t help it either. He was still human. Still, a smile made its way across his mouth. He was only able to think of the moment and how he wished to wake up to it every single morning of his existence. He decided to stay still and hold onto it while it lasted.

“Why are you so pretty?” he whispered, then pulled you closer while he closed his eyes, meaning to go back to sleep, but it wasn’t long before he felt you stir against him, your leg moving upwards. In the process, said limb swept higher, touching that particular spot between his legs. The weight of your leg didn’t help with the carnal thoughts that were already running amok in his mind.

You suddenly moved, groaning as you shifted, the drawn-out sound doing things to him.

Sukuna’s eyes remained shut, fearing what might come next after you discover the compromising position you were in, but it didn’t come. Instead, you just very slightly distanced yourself from him, remaining within reach, but he was startled when he suddenly felt cold fingers brush across the skin just below his lower lip.

“If I were an artists, I would have painted you,” you said quietly while your fingers travelled lower. “Just look at that jaw line.”

Sukuna felt himself shiver when your other hand began working its way from his collarbones, going all the way down to where his chiseled stomach was. The titillating sensation filled his brain and before he knew it, his eyes were half open while his hand had already grabbed you by the wrist. His other arm worked to topple you over, back to the comfort of the pillows, while he rolled on top of you, staying still while completely rendering you motionless by pinning your arm down.

The reverberation of your chest against his whilst you chuckled albeit his weight sent him to the edge, almost falling off, but he held still and stopped himself from doing anything.

“Ryomen Sukuna,” you whispered, tapping his back slightly.

He wondered whether you liked being there with him, too, or what. “L/N Y/N…What’s with the formality?” What, indeed? The two of you were in a very intimate position and yet he addressed you that way, sounding agonized even to himself. “Don’t do that.”

You scoffed good-naturedly. “Am I giving you strange feelings?” you questioned, ridiculing him early in the morning. “I knew you were pretending to be asleep. Men just can’t say no to a woman’s touch, huh?”

He supported his weight with his arm and drew himself up, the rest of his weight pushing down lower against you. He smirked then. “So you were also awake.”

“Yeah.”

“And you let me hold you anyway?” he murmured, his face almost closing in on yours.

You ignored the tone in which he spoke and its implications. “I was just too lazy to move. Besides, I thought you were a pillow. You’re so warm.”

“That sounds fishy, Y/N.”

“And what’s fishy about that?”

He broke into that crooked grin, feeling his evil streak resurfacing. “Hmm. The fact that you’re liking this as much as I am.”

You removed your hand from his grip and lightly slid it down his inked rib, going lower as you traced the patterns of his tattoo, your eyes remaining on him, a sultry smile swathed across your lips.

A moan nearly escaped his parted mouth, but he wasn’t able to hold back the sudden closing of his eyes and slight parting of his mouth as your hand reached halfway down. “S-stop…”

Your hand stopped where his pelvis was, but your fingers continued to draw circles on his skin. “Are you sure you want me to stop?”

Sukuna panted and nodded at you feeling his hot blood rushing southward.

“Yeah?” You laughed softly, your eyes widening a bit in amusement while your leg kicked faintly underneath him, feeling something stiffen against your thigh. “Something else tells me you don’t,” you purred into his ear.

Sukuna bit his lower lip, peeking at you through half-lidded eyes. He knew you felt that and he was getting embarrassed with every second he stayed there. He knew your effect on him and you were more than just aware of it. You were even going to the extent of toying with him, making him feel like a goddamn teenager with raging hormones.

“You’re baiting me,” he played along, brushing your hair off of your neck and twirling the strands with his finger.

You smirked. “Am I?” you said slowly, hand sliding on the garter of his sweats. You withdrew your hand and rolled the two of you over despite his weight, turning tables on him. You touched the tip of his nose, taking in the disappointed look on his face all to your amusement before getting off.

“You’re funny, Sukuna.”

Your leg wasn’t even halfway off of him from where you were sitting astride his torso when Sukuna decided he was going to take his chances with making you succumb to him somehow and he finalized that by stopping you. Grabbing your waist, he rolled you over once more and without second thoughts, dipped his mouth against your, just pecking you on the mouth at first to see what you would do.

Too stunned to react, you were only able to stare at him, but Sukuna didn’t just stop there. He pressed his mouth against your sensuous lips in numerous fleeting touches until he felt you respond to it in the same gentle manner. Those small gestures, along with the closing of your eyes, ignited the fire that had been coursing through him until he thought he would explode if he didn’t comfort himself with the feel of you against him.

Unable to hold back anymore, he crashed your lips together in an urgent, scorching and passionate kiss, nibbling on your lower lip. You responded in kind, possessively holding onto his taut shoulders as he lifted you both in a sitting position so you were kneeling astride his lap. Sukuna pushed his fingers into your hair, holding you against him while his mouth moved downwards to your neck, seductively biting on your collarbone, marking his trail of fire up the columns of your throat before returning to your mouth.

Opposite to his aim to escalate the heat and passion, you placed both of your hands on either side of his head, cupping his cheeks with gentle hands and pulled away slightly, still with your foreheads against each other, hands intact on his shoulders and your waist, both panting for air.

You flashed him an apologetic smile, swallowing hard as you pulled back and sat down on the bed, looking down at your hands which you were wringing. Silence fell over the room and when you came to your senses again, you met his gaze.

His eyes rounded at the realization of what he just did. “I’m sorry, I don’t what came over me.”

“It’s fine. Don’t apologize.” You shook your head. “Sukuna, I…I shouldn’t have…”

He smiled at you then and pulled you close, giving you a soft peck on the forehead, eventually taking you into his arms, soothing your back as he embraced you. “That’s not it, sweetheart. I can’t keep my hands to myself even when you’re not doing anything.”

“I’m sorry…”

He looked at you at arm’s length. “Don’t be.” You diverted your gaze, but Sukuna lifted your head with a finger, making you look at him, holding you in his gaze “I’m willing to take it slow if that’s what makes you comfortable.”

“Look, I just want to be sure about how I feel. I don’t want to be doing this half-baked because I don’t want to hurt you –”

He placed a finger against your lips, still raw from his kisses. He didn’t want to hear what you had to say just yet but he smiled slowly at you. “I’m willing to give you time, and for now, I just want us to stay like this. Is that okay?”

You nodded, swallowing hard.

You found yourselves lying in bed until the sun was high in the sky and it was just too warm to stay there. Endless talks led to teasing which eventually led to laughter. He was glad that you were back to your carefree self again, even happier that you were considering his feelings.

“Should we get something to eat?” you suggested to him.

“Are you hungry?” Sukuna asked.

“Yeah. Aren’t you?”

Sukuna chuckled. “Starving.” He stood up first and pulled you with him, leading you out of the room with a happy grin on his face. “Let’s make breakfast together?”

“Sure…” You beamed at him. “I’d like that.”

-end of part 2-

Additional notes are available in the masterlist, particularly on the reasons why I wrote some things the way I did.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210623]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES FULLY CREDITED TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[spices-and-cherries]

Rampage (Chapter 1)

JAMES BOND X READER

This is the first chapter of my first series! I’m really super excited! This was a request made by the lovely @iamcavainna, but I did make some minor changes (like making it into a series lol)... Also, except for a few paragraphs in this chapter, the whole series will be from Bond’s point of view. 

I did not reference race, gender, sexuality, or physical appearance. If I missed something, please let me know so I can change it!

Summary:  May i request a James Bond x reader where the reader is James’s wife/fiancé and M’s niece. She gets kidnapped by a group who want to get back at them for whatever reason and James, as expected, freaks out and is about to go on a rampage looking for her but when M gets wind of it, everyone expects her to stop him but she doesn’t. James is prepared to burn the world to get the reader back

Warnings: abduction, angst, wall punching, destruction of property, stalking, breaking and entering

Chapter 1: Cologne

As soon as he had gotten off of the elevator, he knew that something was off. The hallway to his partner's flat seemed longer and more quiet than usual. The floor creaked one too many times. The air was thicker.

The door was open.

Not all the way open, but just a crack. 

He gently kicked the door so he could see inside. No one was there and not a sound was made. He gripped the gun in his pocket. 

"(Y/N)?" 

Slowly, he entered the flat and took in all the demolition. Pillows, books, china - among so much else - was strewn across the floor. The bookshelf had been pushed to the floor and there was a large crack running down one side. The potted plants that had rested by the windows had been dumped out in the middle of the carpet. Several of your favorite paintings had big rips in them and the others had holes cut out.

"Darling?"

In the kitchen there was glass covering every inch of the tiled floor making it impossible to cross, but he didn't need to move to see the mess. The kitchen table was overturned with one of its legs broken - splinters sticking out in all directions. It looked like someone had snapped your plates in half then dumped them in the sink, save for a few that had been thrown against the wall. Appliances were smashed apart and rendered completely useless. 

The bedroom was no better. Clothes were shredded and tossed about. The bedside lamps had been smashed to bits. Every drawer had been overturned - two of them reduced to pieces. The mattress had been taken out the bed and springs were coming out of it. Feathers from your pillows covered almost every surface. 

From what he could tell, nothing of value had been taken except for one thing.

You.

-----

You had been staying with a friend. It was a rather impromptu sleepover. The two of you had gone drinking to celebrate your recent engagement and ended up having a little too much. As the responsible adults you were at least trying to be, you decided to crash at her place instead of making your way home. 

The next morning, with a noticeable headache, you left early in the morning. Your fiancé was going to be coming home later in the day, and you had some cleaning to do. Nothing too serious, but it's always nice to come home to clean sheets and no dirty dishes.

However, it seemed that the day had something entirely else planned for you...

You're sitting in a seat by the door trying not to doze off when someone sits two seats away from you. Normally, you'd think nothing of it, but his strong cologne was aggravating your hangover. Trying to distract yourself, you try to read the train map across from you for the umpteenth time, however you can't help but see the man's reflection in the glass. His head is turned towards you. 

Now your hangover wasn't the only thing making you feel uncomfortable. 

Thankfully the next stop is yours and it only takes you seconds to get on the platform. Not looking back, you start to weave through the crowd, determined to get to the exit. The uncomfortable feeling follows you and it takes you a moment to realize why: the cologne smell was lingering. 

Before you reached the elevators to another platform, a strong grip takes hold of your arm.

-----

"Haven't I told you to never break into my house again?" 

"Ma'am."

"It's becoming a habit of yours."

"Sorry."

"One more time and you're off."

"I know."

"...I can't give you information that I don't have."

"Don't have or don't have authority to?"

"...Don't have authority to." M takes her coat off, but doesn't bother putting it away, opting to sit down instead.

"That's new."

"I do have my ways, you know." Out of her pant pocket, she pulls out a photograph of a man. "Don't look at me like that, Bond. Are you going to take it or not?" James reaches a hand out and she gives it to him. "He was seen with (Y/N) this morning in the tube." James looks up at that, his blue eyes more piercing than usual. "His name is Reid Slane and he's a freelancer of sorts."

"Where can I find him?"

"The address is written on the other side." James flips the photo over, glances over the writing, and slips in into the inside pocket of his coat. He goes to stand up but M stops him. "I hope you fully realize what's at stake here. If anything happens, I won't be able to cover for you - for either one of us."

"I know." He stands up and starts for the door.

"And Bond," He turns to see her looking directly at him.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Raise hell."

I really hope that you all liked it! The next chapter should come out sometime this weekend? I’m not sure because my schedule is all over the place. Anyway, as usual, please send me any requests or constructive criticism. I love hearing any kind of feedback!

- Simpy

[reidingandwriting]

Chapter Two- “no body, no crime”

“No body, no crime. I wasn’t letting go until the day he died.”

Word Count: ~2300 words

Warnings: Drinking (legal), missing person, references to death & murder, mentions of an affair, mentions of guns and blood

Characters Mentioned: Neutral!Reader

Minor Original Characters Featured: Este, Lennox, Mark, Bella, Detective Hooper

A/N: I am soooo sorry for how long this chapter took to come out! Between college starting back up and spraining my wrist in a fall, it’s been impossible to write. But here is chapter two!! This chapter is where things really start to happen, and next chapter we’ll see some familiar faces again 😉 Anyways, I hope y’all enjoy the chapter!

Previous chapter

Next chapter

A few days later…

“I hope you don’t mind, but I might be pre-gaming for our dinner tomorrow.” You had said while on the phone with your friend Este the night before. “The last few days have been.. brutal.” You knew she could hear the shakiness in your voice, the remnants of the tears unshed as you tried to keep them at bay. But she didn’t say anything, and that’s why you loved her so much. 

“Be safe and I’ll see you tomorrow. Drink one for me.” You let out a teary laugh and hummed in agreement as you took another sip from your wine glass. “Love you, Y/N.”

“Love you, too. Goodnight.” “Goodnight.”

You rushed into Olive Garden the next day, a jacket over your head in an attempt to shelter yourself from the rain that started the second you parked at the restaurant. The cherry on top of your day. You fixed your hair haphazardly before you looked around the dining room, and you smiled when your eyes landed on your friend, at your usual booth.

“Y/N, welcome back. You know your way to your spot now, I’ll be right there with your usual.” Lennox, a familiar waiter, said as they passed you, a bright smile on their lips.

“What would we do without you, Lennox?” You offered a smile as you walked over to Este.

“I’m a big fan of the rained-on look, Y/N. Not many can rock that like you.” You rolled your eyes as you sat down across from her, and you took in your friend’s appearance. Her eyes were tired, the concealer applied a little heavier under her eyes than usual. Her outfit looked flawless, but her nail polish on her thumb was chipped. Her hair held their curls beautifully, except for the one curl that had been messed with until it was nearly straight- her nervous habit. 

“Oh, you know, nothing like a little rainstorm to spice up my outfit. Who needs to accessorize when you can get rained on?” You paused as your waiter came over with a glass of your favorite wine, and you thanked them before looking at Este. “You look tired.” You swirled your glass of wine before taking a sip, giving her a chance to speak. 

“I hate profilers, you know that?” She sighed but confessed. “It’s Mark. He’s been… off lately. I think he’s cheating on me.” You raised a brow at Este, setting your glass down to speak.

“Why do you think that?”

“He comes home from work late with the taste of cheap merlot on his mouth, and I got the latest bank statement. I don’t know what he got at the jewelers, but it isn’t mine.” She took a sip of her wine before looking at you, her eyes filled with determination. “I think I’m gonna call him out.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have any solid evidence yet, and I don’t want you rushing into something you might regret.” 

“Evidence? You’re making it sound like he committed a crime, Y/N. He may be a cheater, but he isn’t, like, a murderer.” Este drummed her fingers against the table. “And you’re right. I can’t prove it yet.” She paused as our food was set up at our table and didn’t speak again until the waiter walked off. “But I’ll catch him, and that’s a promise.” 

-

You sat at your usual booth, and you took small sips from your glass of water as you scrolled through your phone. You were distracted though, and it was obvious. Your eyes flickered from your phone, back to the dining room, back to your phone. It had been nearly half an hour since you arrived at Olive Garden, and you hadn’t heard from Este. Este had an occasional habit of running late, but she’d always text or call you saying she was on her way. You checked your messages and voicemail once more and frowned when you saw you hadn’t missed anything. You took another sip of your water as you settled back into the booth. I’ll wait another half hour, you decided.

-

Straight to voicemail. “Este. Call me back when you can, please. It’s been an hour, and I haven’t heard from you.”

Straight to voicemail. You dialed another number, panic beginning to rise in you. “Hi, Eleanor. Did Este come into work today? No? Okay, thank you. Bye.”

Straight to voicemail. “I hope you’re okay, but I’m so mad at you for scaring me like this. Let me know you’re okay, please? I’m calling Mark now. Love you.”

#

“The Fairfax City Police are asking for help regarding the disappearance of Este Williams. Mrs. Williams was reported to be seen last by her husband, Mark Williams, when she left due to an emergency call at work Monday evening. A friend of Mrs. Williams was supposed to meet with her on Tuesday evening, but Mrs. Williams never showed, leading to her husband reporting her missing that night. On screen is the most recent picture of Mrs. Williams and if anyone has any leads on her disappearance, please call the number listed below. An investigation has been opened and a local search and rescue will be organized.”

-

You couldn’t remember how long you had been in your car. You didn’t have a destination in mind when you left this morning, but you found yourself driving around Fairfax, around all of Este’s favorite spots. Sal’s Diner, the botanical garden, Wendy’s Coffee Shop. Everywhere you two frequented you had driven past that day, but there was no sign of Este anywhere. A week had passed since she was reported missing, and the local police department’s presence slowly faded into the usual patrols. Two weeks later, the search party had been called in and seemed to grow smaller and smaller with each passing day. Their discouragement was obvious due to the lack of findings regarding Este, whispers spreading through the streets that she had just left for bigger things. But you refused to believe your best friend had uprooted and disappeared without even a text. She had just been accepted into her doctorate program at Georgetown, she was supposed to attend her sister’s wedding. Something was off about this situation, and you spent your free time looking for anything that could result in finding your friend. 

By the end of the night, you found yourself in her neighborhood. You drove past her house, slowing to a stop when you noticed an unfamiliar car in the driveway. You then noticed Mark’s truck beside the car, the usually dirty vehicle now cleaned to where it almost sparkled in the moonlight. You parked off to the side, and you strained to look into the windows of the home. You could see the brief silhouette of Mark standing, and a woman on the couch. The unanswered call and texts flashed through your mind, and you gripped the steering wheel, your knuckles turning white from the harshness of your grip. Deep breath, Y/N, relax. You took a deep breath and relaxed your fingers, turned your car off, and leaned back in your seat. Not your first stakeout, and it won’t be your last. You knew Mark was involved but you just couldn’t prove it. Yet. And when you can prove it, Mark better pray to every god above.

-

Days had passed since you first started watching Mark. Your days started to blend into a cycle: your new glamorous job cleaning houses, a quick trip home to change, then driving to Este and Mark’s house. There were moving trucks the other day, Mark’s mistress moving in. Into Este’s home, where she slept. The garden she grew was torn out and covered up, every sign of Este ever existing was disappearing day by day. Deep down, you knew you couldn’t do anything to Mark. You weren’t in the FBI anymore, you couldn’t touch him. But all rationality had flown out the window when your friend’s disappearance had reached a month. You had spent hours in your car, waiting for the perfect time to find any evidence that would prove what Mark had done. And finally, an opportunity jumped out at you. 

You had a day off work and you found yourself on the front porch of Este and Mark’s house. There was Mark’s truck in the driveway, and as you knocked on the front door, you had to control your emotions. Feelings of rage coursed through your veins, and you shoved your hands into your pockets. Inhale, one two three, exhale. You are calm, cool, and collected. The door swung open and you plastered on a smile when you were greeted by Mark’s face. 

“Mark, hi. How are you? May I come in?” Mark’s confused expression morphed into a nervous expression, but he nodded and stepped aside.

“Please, come in.” Mark smiled at you, but you quickly recognized the fake smile. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting company. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just want to talk.” You walked through the doorway, the weight of your gun tucked into its spot in your waistband, concealed by your jacket. “About Este.” You closed the door and locked it behind you.

-

“Bella?” You asked as Este’s sister answered the phone. “I need a massive favor.”

“Of course, anything. What is it?”

“If anyone asks, I was with you today. We spent the afternoon together. Boating.” A pause.

“Is everything okay, Y/N?”

“I promise I’m okay. Speaking of boating, the Potomac River is gorgeous this time of year. We should go soon. This weekend?” 

“Sounds perfect. I’ll bring drinks, you sound like you could use a few.”

“Trust me, B. This is the best I’ve felt in a long time.”

-

A knock on the door interrupted you from your reading, and you walked to the door. You opened the door to reveal a police officer standing on your front step. 

“May I help you, Officer?”

“Detective Hooper. May I come in?” Detective Hooper flashed his badge and you nodded, letting him in.

“Please, come in. Help yourself to a seat, can I offer you a drink?” You asked as you led him to the living room, where you sat on the couch. The detective took a seat on the opposite end, and you sat up straight, attentive.

“That won’t be necessary. Y/N Y/L/N, I was the detective assigned to the case of your friend, Este Williams. As you are likely aware, there’s been no new developments in her disappearance case. Until today.” Look shocked,  you don’t know this. You looked at Detective Hooper with furrowed brows. “What was a disappearance case has now evolved into a murder case, and I believe Mrs. Williams was the first victim, Mr. Williams being the second.”

“What?” You let your head fall back against the couch and screwed your eyes shut. “She’s really- they’re really? They’re dead?”

“We still have yet to find Mrs. Williams, but we received a call that led to us recovering Mark Williams’s body in the Potomac River.” Detective Hooper looked at you with what you believed to be sympathy. The best he could show it with his job, at least. Okay, a little more sad. Your bottom lip trembled as you rubbed your eyes, taking a shaky breath. 

“What are you going to do? To find my friend? And to get justice for her husband?”

“That’s what I’m here for. We have no leads in this case, and you’re the closest person to the Williams, except for Mrs. Williams’s sister. I have a couple of questions if that’s okay?”

“It’s okay.” You sat up. “Anything to help.” You answered a few questions about how you knew the Williams, emphasis on your background with Este, and questions that delved deep into the relationship of Mark and Este. Did they have any problems? Who were their friends? Their enemies? Then the questions turned to you. What had you done the day Mr. Williams was murdered?

“Well, I’d usually have work. Cleaning houses.” You thought back to earlier, where you washed the blood splatter off your face, then cleaned your car to perfection. “But I had a day off. So I went to the docks and got my boat, it was a beautiful day on the Potomac.”

“You have a boating license?”

“My dad made me get one when I was fifteen.” You smiled. “Birthday present.”

“Were you alone?” He asked and leveled you with a look, in an attempt to see if you’d crack. 

“Este’s sister was with me.” You didn’t hesitate. “Ever since Este’s disappearance, I’ve been spending more time with her than I did before.” You admitted. Detective Hooper studied your face for a minute before he sighed.

“Thank you for answering all my questions. If you can think of anything else that could help us solve this case, please give me a call.” He handed you his card and you took it, and you tucked it into your pocket. “I’ll get out of your hair now. Thank you again for your time.” You and the detective stood and you walked with him to the door. As he let himself out, you paused to speak. 

“Detective?” He turned around to face you again. “I don’t know if this is any help, but I’d check into Mark’s mistress.”

-

“An arrest has been made in the disappearance of Este Williams and the murder of Mark Williams of Fairfax, Virginia. Mrs. Williams has yet to be found, but Mr. Williams was found to be murdered. Investigations are still underway and if there are any clues on the location of Mrs. Williams, please call the number below to be directed to our hotline.”

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