#I dunno why I had the sudden urge to collect these but here you go

[myimaginationplain]

in-universe pictures of Doctor Tenma

#I dunno why I had the sudden urge to collect these but here you go #naoki urasawa's monster #monster anime #kenzo tenma #eva heinemann #dieter

[unprofessional-bard]

Don't Push It, Pt. 2

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

First Part (2/2)

Based on this request.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Warnings: Age gap (the reader is 26 and Joel is 53), angst, sexual tension, then smut: oral sex (m&f receiving), fingering, hair pulling, biting, choking, dom/sub vibes bc the reader is A Brat, rough & unprotected vaginal sex.

Summary: It's been going on for years. They both know better than to act on their feelings, but patience starts running thin when a few boundaries are crossed.

Word Count: 7.275 hehehe

Author's Note: This turned out to be a pure self indulgent smut but oh well. I have no shame and no excuses for this.

Like before, this fic changes POV's a lot:

• ----R and below: The reader's POV.

• ----J and below: Joel's POV.

• ----B and below: Both POV's.

The fic starts off with the reader's POV.

Enjoy!

"Jesse..." You called for him, voice breaking and tears around the corners of your eyes. He was chatting with two other people, but immediately diverted his attention to you once he saw your expression.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He turned to you. You were pouting and chewing on your lower lip, refusing to speak, so he held your shoulders as he looked into your eyes: "What happened?"

You blinked away the urge to cry, trying to find comfort in the fact that he hadn't witnessed your interaction with Joel. When you shut you eyes, though, Jesse's right hand went to cup your cheek: "Come on- Hey, it's okay-"

"I'm gonna go home," You finally whined.

"Okay, let's go then," Jesse instinctively looked over to the door, but you softly grabbed his wrist.

"No, you stay..." You looked away, nausea forming at the pit of your stomach: "I wanna be alone."

"You sure?" You unintentionally leaned forward, lightly tripping on your own feet.

"Yeah, thanks," You finally let the tears go and a pair rolled down your cheeks. You don't remember being this embarrassed, ever; normally you wouldn't cry, but the alcohol fucked with you too.

"Aw, (Y/N)..." He quickly pulled you into a hug, pressing your head into his chest. "You're so not getting away with this. We'll talk about it tomorrow okay?" You just nodded and forced yourself to stop crying or, rather, stop yourself from making a noise. After he pulled away, you let Jesse wipe away the tears glistening your cheeks: "Would a kiss make you feel better-? On the cheek, of course."

You chuckled at his panic and nodded with watery eyes, then he leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your wet cheek - a kiss you wished you'd gotten from Joel, it was a comforting gesture which made you want to cry more. Instead, before you let anyone notice what was going on, you walked out with rushed steps. The sudden contact with the warm summer air made you realise how suffocating it had gotten in there, the calm and quiet of the town easing your stress on minimal levels.

You furiously wiped away your tears as you stormed to your house, trying not to trip on your feet as you did.

How could I be so stupid? You thought and sniffed. Of course he was gonna reject me.

The feeling of nausea and embarrassment started to take over your thoughts, so you found yourself leaning against a streetlight, groaning: "Fuck..."

"Shouldn't walk back alone," A deep voice spoke from behind you. "Especially when you're drunk, as you are."

You turned around, fixing your posture as best as you could before realising it was Joel. Your worried expression turned into a tired and angry one when you saw him: "What're you doing here?"

"Lookin' out for you," He replied, stopping before you, keeping a healthy distance so he wouldn't invade your personal space. "Your boyfriend clearly ain't."

"The hell are you talking about?" You groaned in a hostile manner. "I don't need you to look after me..." You gulped and turned around, walking towards your house, which was around the corner: "I don't need you."

"Like hell you don't, y'can barely stand up," Joel growled.

His words angered you because how dare he mock me? Humiliation and ridicule riled you up, therefore you turned around and shoved him away once he was close enough: "Fuck off!"

"Keep your voice down." Joel spoke calmly.

You found yourself obeying almost immediately, the exhaustion mixed with embarrassment made your voice crack when you spoke: "Go away, Joel."

Your anger was superior at that moment, but you still -god fucking dammit- wanted him.

Frustrated, you were absolutely irritated by this man whom you wanted; you wanted to kiss him, wanted him to touch you, grab the undersides of your thighs and press you against the wall as he bit your collarbone... You managed to throw that away- if there was anything to throw away in the first place. Hours ago, when he 'helped' you with your stretches- he also showed up to the dance, even though he had said he wouldn't. He clearly liked you, but didn't he want you?

Why didn't he want you?

"Stop bein' stubborn and let me walk you home-"

"I'm not being stubborn, I just don't want you to... to..."

"To what?" He took a few steps in your direction, slowly. In truth, you didn't want him to see you in your current state. You were a mess, not your usual self and it made you want to get swallowed by the ground. "What, (Y/N)?" His voice softened and quietened as he used the side of his pointing finger to gently push your chin up so he could look into your eyes. "Say it."

Your eyes- glowing, beautiful eyes stared into his own. For a moment, you almost leaned into the small touch, but instead you pushed his hand away reluctantly: "Fine. Once I'm inside, you leave."

Joel agreed and watched you lead the way to your house. You ran a hand through your hair and huffed, slowly starting to lose your nerve in the meantime.

He was right with almost everything he said and had to say: You were struggling to stand up, had a killer headache with the urge to empty the contents of your stomach. The bathroom floor seemed like the ideal place to pass out on, the cold tiles would help you with the hot night air of Jackson-

You found yourself on your doorstep, reaching for the key to your house in the pocket of your skirt. Deep in thought and not all too displeased by his existence behind you, you almost forgot Joel was there. Trying to mask the sounds of your failed attempts at fitting the key into the hole, you spoke: "I'm here, safe n' sound. You can leave now."

Instead of replying, he walked up and lightly pressed himself against you when he took your key holding hand in his, gently squeezed it and helped you push it into the hole. Your breath hitched at the touch, heat gathering at your cheeks as he slowly twisted the key for you (you had lost function when you realised just how close he was). His chest easily covered your back, his scent somewhat invaded your senses and made you lean back before he opened the door. Your gaze lowered to the floor once he pushed it open and realised you had to reach the bathroom as soon as possible.

----B

Snapping back to reality, you marched to the bathroom in a few quick steps, Joel following suit. He closed the door behind him and once he reached to the bathroom door, just in time, he saw you drop to your knees in front of the toilet. Instinct taking over, he immediately walked behind you and collected your hair from in front of your face, then gently pulled them into a ponytail in one hand.

Fuck.

The nausea suddenly disappeared and got replaced, once more, with need when you realised what he had done. Your heavy breathing started to slow down as you two stood like that for a torturous minute.

"You okay?" Joel hesitantly asked, trying to catch a glimpse of your face. You silently nodded, trembling hands gripping the toilet seat harder, then finally pushed yourself up and Joel stepped back, keeping a hand hovering by your waist in case you fell.

Without saying anything, you washed your hands and splashed some water on your face, rubbing it as a means to sober yourself. Once you were done, you spread your arms to the sides and placed them on the edges of the sink, leaning down. You felt too awkward to look him in the eye, so, while burning a hole into the sink with your stare, you asked: "What are you doing here, Joel?" He was caught off guard. Before he had a chance to reply, you added: "What- I mean, you're getting off to seeing me all... miserable and- and humiliated? Is that it?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" He crossed his arms.

"You've mocked me quite enough, sir," You hissed, faking a different accent and pushed yourself off the sink. Joel took a step back outside to the hall when you walked towards him. "First you reject me, then call me drunk and then-"

"Please, look me in the eye and tell me you aren't drunk right now."

"Well, I'm not," You dropped your hands in defeat and let them slap against the sides of your thighs. "Not enough to not see what I want."

Joel's heart started racing at your words. He gave you an indecisive look, along with shock, lust and a side of shame: "I..."

"Why don't you want me?" You whispered, leaning against the wall behind you. Your expression simply laid between fatigued and trying-not-to-cry. Joel, on the other hand, was shocked. He had no idea about what he should say or do, so he gave himself a moment to recollect.

"Aren't you- I dunno, datin' someone?" He tried.

"What do you think?" You asked, as if you couldn't have been more obvious.

"Wouldn't you..." He tried again. "Shouldn't you be with someone your age?"

"Should?" You repeated, frowning, but you weren't angry.

"You didn't seem to have a problem with kissin' Jesse in there," He took a step towards you. "You should-"

"What the fuck do you know about what I should or shouldn't do?" You groaned. "Are you jealous? Is that it?"

"Oh, for god's sake," He turned his head away in frustration before looking back at you. His expression and voice softened: "You're so young, (Y/N)..."

"So? I know what I want." You stated and crossed your arms. You're so young and beautiful with your 30s ahead of you and you shouldn't waste your time on someone old like me. He was standing an arm away from you when you spoke again: "I know what you want, too. If only you'd stop making excuses."

"Why don't we let this go, hm? What do you want from me?" He lowered his voice, now deep and husky.

You stared into his eyes for awhile, then fixed your posture and straightened up, still leaning against the wall. Determined, you spoke: "You either leave me alone- walk out of that door and I'll be out of your hair forever."

Joel hated the idea as soon as he heard it, so he impatiently grunted: "Or?"

Your eyes flickered down to his lips for a solid second, then went back up to his eyes. "Stay. And kiss me."

There it was. The moment of truth.

Joel knew you wouldn't be so insistent if you didn't know he wanted you as much as you did him. He also knew that you had him where you wanted and that you'd also keep your promise about staying out of his hair- he didn't want you to, though. He'd hate himself if he broke your heart and even more so if he walked out of that door. So, with one last hesitation, his self control slowly disappearing, he asked: "Where does Jesse stand in all this?"

Yes, your mind screamed. He's going to stay.

"He's just a friend. He kissed me on my cheek, I don't understand why you're-"

"Cheek?" He asked abruptly, brows raising and eyes widening in unison. In his defense, from the angle he was sitting, plus the whiskey he'd been drinking, he was pretty sure Jesse had kissed you on the lips. The way he'd grabbed your cheek and the look of worry after you left hadn't helped either.

You chuckled: "Just admit you were jealous."

He didn't say a word, instead he just stared into your puffy eyes for a moment too long, then closed the space between your bodies. Before he knew it, he grabbed you by the hips and, finally, pressed his lips onto yours.

It was a little embarrassing, just how quick you were to gasp and moan into his mouth. He then pulled back, placed a hand on the side of your neck gently and pushed your head up with his thumb on your chin, wrecking you with one move. He looked into your eyes, then growled: "You've been drivin' me up the wall, y'know that? This morning, then at the dance..." He sighed, looked down and when he looked back up, he said: "I won't be gentle."

Was it that obvious that you wanted to be totally ruined by him?

You never looked anywhere else other than his eyes, too afraid that if you did, he'd disappear. So when he spoke, the words sending a thrill down your spine, you whispered back: "No one's asking you to."

If your legs were keeping you up to some level, they sure as shit weren't going to do that anymore because of the roughness of the kiss. It had a side of gentleness and professionalism to it too- had he kissed or made out with someone recently? Or even for once ever since he arrived in Jackson? He must've had, he was just so attractive and must've pulled someone into his web like he did with you. It wasn't his fault, really, but he contributed.

His tongue parted your lips and you let him explore your mouth, whining and moaning as quietly as possible. God, you thought, this must be heaven. The way he easily dominated you and made you weak in the knees probably made someone as confident as you look really pathetic, but you couldn't care less. He made you a dripping mess and him only, the rest wasn't important.

While his left hand was on your waist, the hand resting on the side of your throat wasn't squeezing but you wouldn't mind if he added a little pressure. The heavy breathing, your occasional whimpers and the promise of a rough treatment made your pussy ache with excitement - you could tell, by the hardness against your core and inner thigh, he was about the same.

For someone who practically sealed a deal to fuck you until you couldn't walk for the entirety of next week, he was still holding back. As much as it warmed your heart, it was your cunt that demanded attention at that moment: You decided to bite on his bottom lip; he pulled back with a groan, surprised and his hand flexed around your neck. Bingo.

The space between your faces wasn't even a span away, but he took his time to stare at you as you grabbed his right hand and moved it onto your throat slowly. Joel's breathing faltered at the sight: You, lips swollen, eyes a little puffy and your hand on his larger one around your throat with the most devilish smile across your pretty face. If it was even possible, Joel dived back into your lips with more roughness.

You started tugging at his belt as he devoured you, pressing his whole body against yours, making you overheat and feel dizzy. The sounds you were making seemed to turn him on more, his aggressiveness and movement speed increased whenever he felt your throat twitch under his palm.

To your disappointment, he let his hands go to aid you with his belt, but his lips stayed on yours. As soon as his belt hit the floor, however, he took his shirt off. He didn't even bother with opening the buttons and threw it over his head, tossing it to the floor. You gulped at how well built his body was, a few scars here and there and a decent amount of chest hair that followed a trail down his jeans.

Before you could faint at the sight, he immediately went back to kissing you; this time he moved to your cheek briefly and settled on your neck. A gasp left your lips involuntarily when he hit jackpot, sucking a hickey on your soft spot.

"Joel!" You hissed, or moaned, didn't matter- you pulled on his hair and stopped him. "No marks."

"Why not?"

Fuckingshitfuckfuckingdammit-

His tone was so seductive, so inviting that you couldn't fight him. The only reason you didn't want marks was simply because it was summer and you couldn't wear the layers of clothes and neckwear you wore in winter - it sure as shit was going to get questioned a lot and rumours spread around Jackson quicker than wildfire.

He didn't wait for your response of course and sunk his teeth into the crook of your neck, making you let out a rather pornographic moan. His naked body was on fire under your fingers, nails embedded themselves into his upper back when he sucked and licked on the spot he bit.

You wanted to scream out, tell him to bite you again, mark you everywhere and claim you as his, but as expected, you were too overwhelmed to utter a single word.

Joel then grabbed your thighs and pushed you up when you jumped. He trapped you between his hot body and cool wall, both sensations sent your body into a frenetic struggle, his soft lips nipping at your collarbones and large hands groping the backs of your thighs. You let go of him in order to remove your t-shirt with urgency, revealing your bra to him. He was quick to attack the tops of your breasts, sucking and biting there too. The bites weren't rough like he was trying to tear into your flesh, but there was just enough pressure to paint the skin purple.

You loved every fucking second.

"Fuck," You sighed, running your hands through his gray locks as he pulled your nipple out of the cup of the bra. "Oh..." The wetness of his tongue against your nipple made your brain short-circuit. "Oh, Joel-"

He grunted when you said his name, his cock pressing against your heat: "Yeah? You like this?"

"Fuck, so good-" You choked out when he spoke, nails digging at his shoulder and the back of his neck, making you squirm in his grip. After a moment, your other nipple was seen to the same treatment. You couldn't wait to see the rounds of teeth marks and bruises on yourself when you woke up in the morning.

Before he could do anything further, you tapped his shoulder and removed yourself from his hold, stepping on the ground with unstable legs- you immediately dropped onto your knees. The sight made Joel produce a sound between a grunt and a moan, his hand going to rest along the side of your face. He wanted to tell you that you didn't have to, but the way you eagerly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants kept him quiet.

You pulled his pants down, only to reveal his rather big erection straining against his boxers. The scene made you sigh, then look up when you grabbed him through his underwear; he leaned forward, pushing your back against the wall once more. He then pulled your hair oh so slowly into a ponytail and gathered it in one hand, then tugged your head back: "Don't tease me, girl."

If it weren't for your urgency to put him in your mouth, you would continue to tease him; his voice was dangerously low, threatening even, you wanted to see the outcome, but not today. You never broke eye contact when you smirked and pulled his boxers down, but you had to when his cock stood tall and proud inches away from your face.

You stared, eyes widening and mouth falling open (and quite possibly drooling at how big he was), Joel tsked at your expression: "Look at you, so eager for me."

You simply nodded, before licking the tip of his cock experimentally. He was, unsurprisingly, warm. His right hand clenched around your hair as he leaned the other against the wall. After running your tongue over his slit you finally took him in your mouth. A rough grunt vibrated in his chest and he threw his head back when you looked up, making you moan around him.

It was a struggle to fit all of him in your mouth, you saw it coming, but you forced your throat to relax so he could finally fuck it without further ado. After pulling back for a moment and taking a deep breath while working your hand on his length to cover for the loss of your mouth, you took him back in.

He hit the back of your throat, making you gag and instinctively pull back, but the hand on the back of your head stopped you and you moaned.

"Fuck-" Joel groaned and placed his other hand through your hair. He was slowly giving himself to the pleasure. You grabbed the sides of his thighs and braced yourself, letting him know that he can do whatever he wanted to. Thus, he started thrusting his hips with a slow but harsh pace. You did your best to relax your throat more and went as far as to brush your fingertips against his balls.

"Shit, (Y/N)," He hissed and picked up pace, the roughness easing up a bit. "That mouth- Gonna fuckin' ruin me-"

It was satisfying to know how much power you held over Joel Miller, but it was only a matter of time that he found out just how much power he held over you.

He pushed your head against the wall, anchoring you in place and gave you a moment to breathe, before searching your eyes for permission to absolutely ruin, or rather, destroy you - you just wanted him to fuck your mouth until you couldn't take it anymore (you were also sure that, even if it got to the point, you'd still beg for his cock down your throat).

He firmly pressed his hands to the back of your head to keep your head from hitting the wall and began thrusting his hips again. You had nowhere to run, he literally had you trapped and it turned you on so much.

His pace became rougher overtime and he began making you gag with each hit to the back of your throat. The noises were bringing him closer to climax and you were more than ready to have him spill his seed down your throat, but he seemed to have another idea.

A growl, gruttal, erupted from his throat and he pulled back at the same time. You panted, a thin line of saliva connected his cock to your lips and tears were gathered at the corners of your eyes, not to mention your throbbing pussy.

He groaned and held your chin in his palm, looking down at you while he breathed heavily. "So pretty down on your knees for me..."

You moaned when he leaned down to kiss you, not even thinking about the usual ew you just had my dick in your mouth I'm not gonna kiss you.

You sighed - What a man.

He was no boy, oh no. Joel was a man: Older, more experienced and was about to prove how he wasn't after just his own pleasure, that he also knew how to please his partner. He was also going to show how much your pleasure mattered to him and how much it turned him on to see you lose yourself in the euphoria.

He pulled his boxers up but stepped out of his pants which were pooled around his ankles, leaving his shoes with the bunch, then helped you up as he tasted himself on your tongue. He lifted you up again, making you wrap your legs around his waist while he carried you over to the table in your room. He carefully placed you on the hard, wooden surface and proceeded to take off your bra; you kissed his neck lightly as he did, which made him sigh into your hair. You then sucked a hickey right above his collarbone, which made him, quite literally, rip your bra off. You snickered at his reaction, taken aback by how harshly he threw your bra across the room. The gesture seemed to have awoken something primal within him: "What? You want another bite, sugar?"

You nodded, pushing your legs apart instinctively, your skirt doing a sinful job at covering you. He looked down to where you were inviting him, then looked back at you. Smirking, he lowered himself onto his knees: "I'm afraid I'll have to tend to the rest of your body another time, sweetheart."

You blinked and stared at him as he gently put your legs over his shoulders: "Another time?"

"Wouldn't you wanna... do this again?" He asked a little hesitantly.

"I..." Your dumbfounded expression stretched to an excited one, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'd love nothing more."

Joel smiled back, then turned his head to place a kiss on the inside of your right thigh after grunting: "Good."

You gasped at how good the scratch of his beard felt against the sensitive skin of your thigh. His kisses were wet and accompanied by occasional sucks here and there, until he bit down at the soft flesh.

"Joel- Ah, fuck," You tugged at his hair, but this time without the intentions of stopping him from marking you. You absolutely adored the way he knew exactly what he was doing and it was perfect.

He then followed the same path on your left thigh: Kisses, sucks and a bite on the exact same spot. You bucked your hips forward with a desperate, pathetic moan.

"What's that? You want somethin'?" Joel looked up into your eyes, slowly sneaking his hands up to entwine them with yours. "Speak up, darlin'."

The pet names were an ache both in your heart and pussy, so you spoke up, barely: "I need you Joel..."

The words made him stand up, your legs still over his broad shoulders. He leaned down, made your legs drop onto the crooks of his arms. He held them as he leaned further down until your noses almost touched, your legs and arms wrapping around his body: "Yeah? Tell me what you need baby."

"I need you to-" You stumbled on your words for a moment because, as much as you wanted to experience how it was like to have your pussy eaten by Joel Miller, you also needed his cock inside you - ASAP. "Fuck, Joel, I need your- your mouth-"

He interrupted you with a deep kiss, then pulled back and sat down on his knees once more, pulling your legs over his shoulders. You didn't stop a long and loud whine from leaving your throat when he pushed your panties aside and licked all the way from the source of your juices up to your clit. His hands had a hard grip around your hips, hopefully hard enough to leave marks.

"Joel..." You threw your head back lazily as he lapped at your juices. You put one hand on the back of his head while the other supported you to stand straight on the desk, your legs squeezing around his head lightly. It was the breaking point for you when he pushed your legs apart and pulled back, his beard glistening.

"Be a good girl and keep them pretty legs open for me."

Your jaw hit the ground, hard, and you felt your soul leaving your body right before he dived back into your folds. A silent scream hung on the edge of your mouth when he sucked your clit, the sticky noises making your legs tremble uncontrollably. You had a particularly hard time keeping your legs open, so when they closed around his head again, Joel swatted your inner thigh, making you jump up with a gasp.

He looked into your eyes, pulled back and spoke once more: "What did I just say?" You immediately opened up for him, spreading your thighs as far as you could, almost at a 150° angle. That didn't seem to be enough for him, however, so he grabbed your ankles and pulled you towards him until you were sitting at the edge of the desk: "Don't push it, girl. Repeat it."

"Okay!" You cried out when he bit down on your sensitive skin, harder than before, adding another mark right next to the first one. "I'll keep them open, I'll-"

He experimentally licked at your clit and with all the power and strength you could gather, you kept them open. After a moment, he pulled back, gently kissed the place he bit and said: "Good girl."

You couldn't do this anymore, you were so fucking devestated. It was so incredulous, too overwhelming, that you dropped yourself on your back and cried out. Half of Jackson must've heard that, if not your neighbour next door.

He started to kiss your thighs again, and between the kisses he spoke: "Look at you... So wet for me, so good for me." He sucked another hickey -you'd lost count at this point- closer to your pussy and growled. "You gettin' off to this, hm? Some old man eating your pretty little pussy up?"

He wasn't just some man, though. He was Joel Miller. It was Joel fucking Miller between your thighs, talking dirty to you, setting your cheeks, neck and the rest of your body on fire: "Yes, oh god yes-!"

Joel smirked when he realised he was finally getting to you, but hissed when he shifted and his painfully hard cock protested against his thighs. It was time to speed things up a little, even though he was really enjoying having you squirming under his tongue.

He calculated his next move for a moment, then slowly, pressed a finger inside you. However, he ended up retreating the digit when your legs snapped shut around his shoulders at the feel, and you realised the mistake you made a moment too late. You immediately stood up where you sat and he got up with you, clicking his tongue disapprovingly: "Alright, if you're not gonna be good and listen to me..."

He suddenly pulled you off the desk, carried you bridal style and climbed onto the bed with you in his arms. It all happened so fast you couldn't even process how you were suddenly sitting on the bed between Joel's legs. He settled down and leaned his back against the headboard, then pulled you flush into his chest: "Open up."

You did as he asked and as soon as you parted your legs, he planted his feet next to the insides of your calves, so that you couldn't close them. Your head dropped against his right shoulder and he was quick to pepper your neck with kisses again. His right hand sneaked down to your panties while his other hand kneaded your breast. You whined, eyes closed: "Joel..."

"That feel good, baby?" He whispered against the shell of your ear, then lightly nibbled on it.

"Yes, yes-" You spoke, feverish, then interrupted yourself with a moan once he inserted a finger inside you. You tried to move, but he immediately wrapped his hand around your throat and inserted a second finger.

"Oh no," He snickered, placing a mocking kiss on your cheek. "You don't get to have whatever you want, not after that show you pulled off." You wanted to respond, but his erection digging at your lower back and the fast come hither motions inside you making your legs tremble gave you a hard time multitasking. "You don't get to be all cute to me- then go kiss other boys. Oh, no you don't..."

You were overheating, malfunctioning and feeling dizzy, the familiar white hot pleasure tingling around the corner. You couldn't move- you could only sink your nails into the sides of his thighs as he fucked you with his thick fingers - two buried, pumping deep inside you and five of them around your throat did indescribable things to you.

"Where'd all that confidence go, huh?" He chuckled after he suddenly pulled out and you cried out, not speaking but physically begging to have him inside you. "You pissed me off a lot, you know- Fuck, n' I'm still givin' you what you ask for. You see what you do to me, sweetie?"

You nodded, a phantom of the word yes left your lips, then suddenly you pushed yourself impossibly closer to him when he re-entered with three fingers, stretching you so fucking good: "Oh Joel, please~"

He listened to you say his name over and over like a silent prayer as his fingers produced incredible pleasure and noises from between your legs. Each thrust of his fingers equaled a high-pitched gasp- he kept at it for another moment, bringing you closer and closer to your climax, then pulled out and unexpectedly squeezed the hand around your throat: "You think you deserve this, huh? After everything you did- Think you earned it?"

"N-No," You replied hesitantly, thrusting your hips forward as you did, which earned you a smack across your oversensitive thigh. "Fuck-!"

"Tsk," He shifted his hand upwards, turning your jaw more to the left so he could pepper your jaw with ghostly kisses. "I'm spoilin' you... Don't even know your place-"

"No, I do-" You switched tactics and tried begging verbally, but it earned you another smack, this time right on your pussy, which made you jump.

He cooed, rubbing your clit: "Who does this belong to, then?"

"You- To you," You gulped, breath hitching at the sensation, your bare shoulders tensing against his chest.

He smacked your pussy again, then asked: "Couldn't hear you, darlin'." As soon as you moaned another series of yous, he kissed your neck affectionately, then whispered: "Atta girl."

He took his time while he coaxed your orgasm out of you. A soft yet effective press of the pads of his fingers against your nerves and, with a series of profanities spilling from your mouth with moans, you came undone- saw the stars when he helped you through your orgasm and overstimulated you afterwards.

Boneless was one word to describe your state, melted was another. You were practically both, you couldn't even lift a finger when he removed himself from behind you and laid you down on the bed. The both of you were covered in sweat and panting, you almost missed the adoration in Joel's eyes when he brushed some hair away from your face. Your legs were still trembling, hickeys were showing their colours on your skin and he couldn't help but place the most gentle kiss on your lips, then replaced his mouth with his sticky fingers. He stood on his knees between your legs and extended his arm to your face: "Suck." You obeyed immediately, taking at first two, then three fingers into your mouth. You sucked and licked them, making Joel hiss: "We're not done yet."

"Good," You sighed, leaving his fingers with a wet sound and smirking at him wickedly. You wanted him to unload on you, punish you for misbehaving.

"You're a naughty girl, ain't ya?" He growled, snickering down at you as he removed your panties and threw them... somewhere. You nodded, regaining your energy, that bratty smile driving him crazy. "Get up. On all fours."

"And... What if I don't?" You smiled innocently at him, dragging your foot up the insides of his thighs. Clearly, your confidence started sprouting again and that needed to be taken care of. He stared into your eyes all the while, then hissed when your foot pressed against his clothed crotch.

Without saying another word, he suddenly grabbed your ankles, yanked you towards him and turned you around in a single second, making you yelp. He pressed his body on yours, putting his forearms next to your head and leaned in to your ear: "Oh, that's not how it works, princess." He placed a kiss behind your ear and pulled you up by your hips, pressing on the back of your neck so you stayed down while he raised your ass up, arching your back. Your skirt, once more, sinfully and barely covered your ass and Joel moaned at the sight, then yanked his underwear down, a hand ghosting over your ass: "I'm gonna make sure," He grunted as he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, then traced it up and down, coating it with your juices. "That you forget your name after we're done." He started to push in, slowly as he didn't want to cause you any discomfort. "But you'll still remember who you belong to."

"Ah~" You moaned, grabbing his hips as he pushed in. The promise of having your insides rearranged sounded too good to be true, but there you were, Joel's cock inside you and making you lose your mind. He stopped when he finally had his cock completely buried in you. "You're so- So, oh- So big-"

"Hm? Does it feel good?" His voice strained as he did his best to wait for you to adjust.

"So good, Joel- Feels so fucking good," You were practically crying at that point, without tears that was. You noticed how his behaviour changed when you responded to him, when you behaved like his good girl.

"Yeah?" He began moving very slowly, eyes closed, struggling to keep his posture. "Good-" He groaned, then removed your hands from his thighs and brought them together behind your back. He took your wrists in one hand, pressed them against your waist and started fucking you. His hips snapped against your ass and the backs of your thighs, the noises that came out as a result were absolutely amazing.

His thrusts were precise: For someone who had a hard time controlling himself, he had incredible control over his body while he fucked you into the mattress, setting fire to your insides once more.

It wasn't long before he brought you to the edge again, bringing down a few smacks down your ass here and there, making you gasp and push your hips down on his cock. However, the start of your unravelling was triggered when he grabbed a fistful of your hair. He didn't yank on it, but he held your head off the pillows and made you cry out: "Fuck!"

"You like this, sweetheart?" He growled when you clenched around him. "So tight- Goddamn-"

You wish you could say you were embarrassed when you let out another high-pitched moan- a sound you didn't know you were capable of making. Suddenly he turned you around and pushed you on your back, grabbed your thighs, hooked them over his own, then sunk into you again. He didn't move, though, which made you look up with a devastated expression, only to find him snickering at you: "Look at you..."

You sighed, pushing yourself up and down, telling him to start moving, but a hand around your throat had you paralysed on spot: "So pretty with my cock in your tight little cunt." You moaned and gripped his biceps which looked delicious under the moonlight: "You want me to fuck you, huh baby?"

"Yes, yes Joel-" You nodded furiously, thighs trembling around his waist. He started rocking into you again, making you look into his eyes as he did.

"You wanna know what it feels like when a man makes you cum?" He gritted his teeth and picked up pace, going deeper.

"Yes!" Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, your juices leaking out of your pussy. "Please fuck me Joel-!"

You couldn't tell if it was a moan or a shout that came out of Joel's mouth (as well as yours), but it clearly had magical effects as you felt a second wave of orgasm wash over you. His hand around your throat joined the other on your hips, with a bruising grip that you already came to love.

He suddenly pulled out and a second later, had his seed spilling on your abdomen. He clearly waited for you to finish first, which made your heart do a few flips. He slowly lowered himself on top of you as he panted, a hand resting on the side of your head, caressing it gently. Your hand instinctively went through his hair and held him there, too shocked to actually say anything, legs trembling occasionally.

"Shit..." He finally sighed and dragged his head off your chest and looked into your eyes. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

It took you second to process what he asked. You blinked and nodded, eyes glowing and beaming at him: "I'm okay- No, you didn't hurt me, I'm fine. I really..."

"What?" He offered a small smile and moved his hand onto your cheek, noticing how you were suddenly shying away. "You liked it?"

You nodded once more, smile turning mischievous: "I did." You then slowly pushed on his chest: "Very much..." His heart started beating faster the second his back met the mattress and you straddled his hips. The short amount of time it took your insides to start coiling with desire again excited you. Joel was about the same- A simple motion such as getting on top of him, rubbing your wetness on his skin almost immediately had his softening member fully hard again. "We're not done yet, are we?"

There wasn't any indication that you were taking over as far as Joel could tell, but after what you both did, you were full of surprises in his eyes: "No, we're not sweetheart." You flashed your teeth at him before taking him in hand and pumping him a few times, feeling him grow larger in your palm. He growled and grabbed your hips, then slammed you down on his cock, making you moan loudly: "Oh, we're not done, alright."

You put your hands on his chest to get some sort of support, but didn't move, expecting him to start thrusting up into you. He didn't, though, so you gave him a quizzical look. Before you could ask what was wrong, his hands slowly began moving down your thighs.

"Go on," He groaned. "Show me what you got."

Your brain, once again, short-circuited but Joel made sure to snap you back to reality- literally. He snapped his hips up and the force made you let out a short squeal, immediately putting you to work.

The moment you started rocking your hips back and forth, the grip he had on your thighs tightened. You purposefully put your arms closer together so that your breasts pressed against one another, and the noises you made with your skirt still around your waist - the sight made him throw his head back on the pillows and had a moan escaping his throat. You started moving faster, which made him hold your waist with one hand and smack your ass with the other, making you jump forwards.

"Such a good girl," He praised. "Fucking yourself on my cock like this-"

The dirty talk shot right through to your clit and your movements faltered, your thighs squeezing around his hips. Something feral and raw poked its head out from its hiding spot, hidden amongst your fantasies, so you picked up pace but not without grabbing his wrists and slamming them above his head, keeping them there as you rode him.

Joel was, once again, surprised at the sudden move, but he allowed you to chase your pleasure for a while. He closed his eyes and focused entirely on the motion of your hips and the tightness of your cunt.

It felt so good.

To finally have you for himself- it still came with a side of guilt, but he simply couldn't bring himself to care. You wanted this, you needed him and you told him, this wasn't some stupid dream or his late night thoughts: This was quite real.

Not for too long, though. He was almost lost in the pleasure when he noticed your hand going down to your clit.

Your cries came to an abrupt halt when he suddenly wriggled his hands out of your grasp and had one wrapped around your throat, the other holding the hand on your clit behind your back. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly: "So eager to cum, are you? To fuck me over, huh?"

"Yes," You moaned, even though you weren't sure what he truly meant by fucking him over. "Only you- Only for you-"

The words made Joel's hips thrust up, touching a new spot deep within you, then set a brutal pace. You could only hold onto his forearm below your throat as he fucked you and stimulated that spot.

"Who does this belong to?" He asked, pressing a thumb right onto your clit, bringing you to the very edge.

"You, Joel," Your now free hand pressed on his thumb to move it, but he was quick to swat your hand away.

"Who do you belong to?" He growled and lowered you closer to him.

"You- I belong to you," You whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks. "Please, l-let me cum..."

"Such a good girl, ain't you?" He kissed your cheek and picked up the brutal pace as if he hadn't stopped in the first place. You couldn't take it anymore, so you let go.

No one had made you come like Joel Miller did, thrice in the same night.

With a final gruttal groan, he thrusted his cock deep inside you and spilled his seed, the exhaustion and the feeling knocking you on your face on his chest. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, thrusted a few more times and went incredibly still, save for the panting.

"That was... so fucking good..." You breathed and made Joel's chest tremble with a brief laugh.

"Oh sugar," He placed an affectionate kiss on your forehead. "You're gonna be the death of me."

#joel x reader #joel x you #joel x oc #joel x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel smut #joel miller x oc #joel miller x y/n #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us x reader #the last of us #the last of us imagine #the last of us fanfiction #tlou x reader #tlou imagine #tlou imagines #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #x reader

[smoochkooks]

—chapter two: of peonies and broken promises

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 1.4k words

summary: you are twenty-four, hopelessly in love with your best friend and the smell of peonies still makes you nauseous, just like it did eleven years ago.

previous || next 

Jungkook's apartment is an epitome of him.

Wherever you look, you spot a piece of him. A single, wooden shelf in the living room where he placed all his analog cameras, because he loves photography. The replica of Van Gogh's Starry night hanging just above the navy blue couch, because he loves art. White walls of his bedroom decorated with movie posters; among them the newest addition to the collection: French Parasite poster you remember him buying recently. He traded stupid amount of money for it and you'd scold him for doing so if you didn’t know how much he enjoys cinematography.

Staring at this back as he makes coffee, you almost forget why you came her in first place. It's trivial: the latest software update on your laptop made it work more sluggish for some unknown to you reason. Jungkook has always been good with technology (hence his degree in digital art), helping you fix things on your laptop whenever the issue isn’t too complicated for him to deal with it on his own.

You feel a little embarrassed, asking him for help again (as if he wasn’t installing a new antivirus software for you a few weeks ago) but Jungkook beat you to it, assuring you it was absolutely fine before you could recite a round of apologies upon entering his apartment.  

It’s just the way he is – the kindest, most selfless person you have ever met. Helping others seems to be etched into his brain for good.

“Here you go,” he says, placing a cup coffee in front of you. “I still haven’t quite figured out how the coffee machine works so I hope it doesn’t taste like shit.”  

You smile, wrapping your fingers around the cup. Jungkook is a tea person, something he most definitely took after his mother, who has a separate cabinet in the kitchen filled with various kinds of tea. That’s why it’s so funny to you that somehow he insisted on buying a ridiculously expensive coffee machine a few months ago when he moved into his new apartment.  

You wish you could focus on the delicate scent of his blueberry tea. You wish you could let yourself be overwhelmed by the aroma of your freshly made coffee. Anything.  

Instead, all you can process is the intense, nauseous smell of the peonies standing right before you.  

They’re definitely new, wrapped up prettily and ready to be gifted to someone special. Jungkook notices your lingering gaze, and clears his throat.  

“Soojin's coming later today. They’re her favourite.”  

He didn’t need to give any explanation to you. It’s his life, his girlfriend, his plans, her favourite flowers, her perfect boyfriend. You’re just you. Yet for some unknown to you reason, he felt and urge to mention it anyway.

“I didn’t peg you for the gentleman type.” you say to break the awkward silence. It’s anything but true, so Jungkook snorts in response.

“Aish, I always give you a single red rose for your birthday, Valentine’s Day and Women's day as well! And we know each other for eighteen years!” he reasons, somewhat defensive.  

You force yourself to grin. “I know, I know. I was just fucking with you,” He huffs and takes a sip of his tea. As soon as he does that, he regrets it, muttering “Shit, it’s hot.” under his breath. “Soojin's lucky to have you.” you add.

Despite coming off as a confident person on daily basis, Jungkook gets insecure too.  

You remember vividly the look in his eyes when he told you he didn’t deserve her. It was right at the beginning of their relationship, they were still getting to know each other and Jungkook couldn’t possibly understand why out of all the boys Soojin could date, she had chosen him. A digital art major who liked talking about cinematography and ate ramen at 2am in the morning when he couldn’t sleep.  

Back then, you wished he could see himself with your eyes. For you, he was far more attractive than any guy you saw on campus. For you, he was talented, hardworking, passionate. No doubt Soojin fell for him.  

But Jungkook was twenty-one back then. He lacked self-assurance he has now. It irritated you that he viewed Soojin as some sort of goddess who took pity on him.  Although a lot has changed since, he still could quite literally kiss the ground she walks on.  

You watch as a small tingle of blush covers the apples of his cheeks. Pink, just like the peonies standing before you. Pink, just like the flowers you hate so much.  

11 years ago

June was beautiful that year. You spent most of your time after school in Jungkook's garden, seated by the wooden table and doing your homework.  

His mother besides tea, loved planting flowers. And June was the month of peonies. There was so many of them, invading your senses with their sweet yet nauseous smell.  

Jungkook was scribbling something in his notebook. You doubted it was anything Math-related, judging by the quick and harsh strokes of his pen. ‘’Do you know Sana?” he asked out of the blue, startling you.  

“That new girl from Japan? What about her?”  

“Jimin says she has a crush on me.” he answered, his eyes still glued to the paper. You noticed he was sketching some anime character's angry face.

Your eyes involuntarily widened. “How does Jimin know that?”  

“Dunno. He told me he heard some girls talking about it in cafeteria the other day.” Finally, he dropped his pen and looked up. His brows were furrowed and he had a sour look on his face. “I don’t want her to have a crush on me.”  

At that, your heart started beating faster. You were just fourteen and yet already so stupidly in love with your best friend. “Why?” you asked before you could stop yourself.  

You knew girls were checking out Jungkook here and there. He was a top athlete, had good grades and had grown at least ten centimeters taller over the year. He also had let his mother (and you) convince him to cut his hair shorter lately, getting rid of the emo fringe he was sporting for the past six months. Of course some pretty girl like Sana would have a crush on him.  

Somehow, Jungkook had always been oblivious to that, or at least you thought so. This was the first time he decided to talk to you about it.  

He sighed, looking away from you as if he was embarrassed all of a sudden. You could swear you saw his cheeks flush. “Because I don’t even like her. You’re the only girl I can stand being with.”  

Now it was your turn to blush. As best as you could, you tried to ignore the funny, giddy feeling in your chest. “You know you'll have to marry some girl one day, right?”  

“Then I’ll ask you to marry me,” Jungkook said and for the first time since he had started this conversation, he actually looked you in the eye. When he saw your shocked expression, he mumbled, “Maybe in like… ten years or something. Once we are out of college.”  

You snorted, nudging his side. Despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, you regained your composure. “Do you think I will put up with your for that long?”  

“We know each other since we were six and you haven’t run away yet. Besides, I’m the only boy you aren’t scared to talk to.”  

“Hey! That’s–Maybe it’ll change in the future! Maybe–”

Jungkook ignored you and instead thrusted his pinky finger in your direction. You stopped speaking right away. Pinky promises held little significance yet for some reason, you felt like it was a serious situation. And if the determined look on your best friend's face was anything to go by, he thought the same.

“If we don’t find anyone worth giving our heart to by the time we are twenty-five, let’s get married. Promise?”  

You were astonished, to say the least, staring at this hand with wide eyes. You were only fourteen back then and to hear something like that from the boy you loved was like a teenage dream come true. You replied with blind devotion. Because there was only one, good answer to such question.

“Promise.”

You are twenty-four now, hopelessly in love with your best friend and the smell of peonies still makes you nauseous.  

#jungkook smut #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #my writing #an ode to a broken heart

[dathen]

Word Search

Characters:  Jonathan Sims & Sasha James Word count:  1,172 Spoilers:  None Other Tags:  Nonbinary Sasha, Nonbinary Jon, Agender Jon, Autistic Jon, Autistic Sasha Link on ao3

Summary: 

Despite the unwelcome shift his promotion brought to their interactions, rambling about linguistics with Jon was an easy pastime to fall back on. -- Featuring burgeoning Jon and Sasha friendship, mutual infodumping, and Fun with Gender (or lack thereof).  Set during early season 1; written for the @t4tma event.

Sasha fidgeted with her jewelry.  It wasn’t the usual nervous energy that she rode like an ocean wave while chasing down a lead or digging into a subject that snagged her attention.  No, today, she just felt...off.  Was it the new outfit?  It was a bit dressier than her usual trousers-and-cardigan style, with a full length skirt that she’d finally found to be long enough for her height, and a scarf that she bought for the soft texture alone.  Maybe it was the jewelry…?  But that was the same as she usually wore, and yet each time she passed the mirrors in the break room or washroom that off-balance feeling returned.  Finally, she gave in to the impulse to take off her earrings before snatching a file from her desk and marching towards Jon’s office.  A distraction would help.

“Found that statement you said was missing in the sequence, Jon,” Sasha announced as she opened the door and poked her head in.  (Oh good, he wasn’t recording.  Though she was pretty sure the others were exaggerating how grumpy Jon got when interrupted; he never seemed too bothered when she dropped by out of unannounced boredom.)  “Looks like it’s still missing a page, though—no translation with it.”

Sasha was surprised that Jon’s answering sigh didn’t send papers flying off his desk.  “If it was translated at all.  Nothing about the state of this place would surprise me,” he answered.  Jon took the offered file and peered at it with what was now a too-common scowl, but the sourness radiated exhaustion.

Oh, he was wearing earrings again today.  Small silver hoops not too different from a pair she saw Tim wear sometimes.  I wish I could look like that when I wear earrings.  She stomped on that thought with a short shake of her head.  Where on earth did that come from?    

“Looks like my staples were a good idea,” she pressed on with as much brightness as she could muster.  “At least if we get a translated copy, we can be sure it won’t get separated from the rest.”

The tired scowl melted into a tired smile. “Thank you, Sasha.  That has been a very helpful solution.”

The gratitude in his voice stifled the usual irritation she felt at being called "helpful" by someone she’d seen fidgeting before his first interview with Mr. Bouchard.  How someone who’d been hired during her fourth year here ended up with her dream job...no, she wasn’t in the mood to wallow in that on top of everything.  Instead, she flopped down into the chair across from him.  “Mandarin, looks like.  Don’t we have a sister institute in Beijing?  The Pu Songling Research Centre?  Maybe it’s from their archives.”

Jon hummed.  “We can inquire if they originally lent it to the Institute; I don’t know if they translate to other languages in their collection, but perhaps they could put us in touch with someone who can…?”

“Either that or run it through the ol’ google translate.  My Mandarin is a bit rusty.”  At that Jon laughed, a tight-lipped huff of a thing.  He used to laugh a lot more before his promotion, and she found she missed it.  Sasha grinned before she continued.  “I did try learning some once!  When I was sixteen.  I thought the writing was so nice, and wanted to impress my Gran.  Didn’t last long, though.”  

“I’ve heard it’s remarkably difficult to learn,” he said.  

“Oh, for sure.  Switching to French was easier, though I wasn’t a fan of memorizing word genders for everything.”  Her thoughts skipped ahead a step or two, and she found herself adding, “Did you know that Mandarin only has a single pronoun for all genders?”

Predictably, Jon brightened and sat up in his chair, suddenly looking like someone who’d slept sometime in the past few days.  Despite the unwelcome shift his promotion brought to their interactions, rambling about linguistics with Jon was an easy pastime to fall back on.  “Is that so?”  

“Yup!  I won’t pretend that the rest of the grammar wasn’t brutal, but that almost made me jealous, you know?” Sasha answered, toying with the edge of the cardboard folder.

Jon’s attention was like a physical weight.  “Jealous how?”

“Dunno, I kind of wish English had something similar, you know?  Instead of needing words that say right out ‘I’m a woman’ or ‘I’m a man!’”  She kept her voice light, but shifted in the stiff-backed chair.  Sasha hadn’t expected the sudden discomfort, but saying the words aloud felt suddenly vulnerable, like pressing a finger just beside an old bruise—just enough to ache.

The Encyclopedia Look immediately fell over Jon’s face (apparently, according to Tim, Sasha had one too; she wondered if it was as obvious as his).  “You know, even in English some people use singular ‘they’ for their pronouns.  It’s been used as a singular gender-neutral pronoun for hundreds of years; examples easily date back to the fourteenth century.  Did you know that ‘you’ used to be plural as well?”

“I did know that!  And formal, too—it’s funny to think how ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ were the informal means of address.”  Sasha forced down the urge to continue the thought; English shedding the formality divisions in its grammar was a subject she could talk about for hours, but she was curious where this was going.  “Still, I had my papers marked up with enough use ‘he or she,’ not ‘they’! back in secondary to know I can’t get away with it now.”

“That’s changing,” said Jon with a sudden fervor.  “And besides, people aren’t research papers.”

Sasha hesitated, that off-balance feeling suddenly returning.  It wasn’t discomfort this time, but why did it suddenly feel so personal?

Jon seemed to notice her faltering.  “O-of course, it’s not the only way to depart from the binary,” he rushed on.  “I mean, I still use 'he/him' because those are comfortable for me, and—“  He froze, eyes flicking towards the wall before he picked up the statement and held it in front of him like a shield.  “A-anyway, ah...yes.  If someone asked me, I’d have no issue using ‘they’ for someone who asked me.  Regardless of what the Chicago Manual of Style has to say about it.”

It didn’t seem to be a pointed comment (except a grudge against the style guide), but Sasha felt the sudden conviction it was meant for her, even if Jon didn’t mean it for her.  Sasha felt the familiar bite of curiosity that she knew wouldn’t let go, but for once she wasn’t sure if it was directed outwards or inwards.  But Jon looked a bit flustered, still feigning interest in the unreadable document in his hands, and it was getting near the time that she agreed to meet Tim for lunch.  “Good to know,” she answered easily, then tapped the top of the statement. “I’d best get back to work—let me know if you hear back from the Research Centre.”

She had some thinking to do.

------

Thank you to the Magnus Writers discord for answering the absurd amount of questions and fact-checking I somehow needed for a 1k word fic, to evanescentjasmine and Ixempt for the beta reads, and to TheDeafProphet for inspiring the concept! Also an extra shout-out to the Magnus Writers mod team for being my own Linguistics Mutual Infodumping Squad. 

#tma #the magnus archives #t4tma #tma fic #jonathan sims #sasha james #my writing #HEY HEY I WROTE A THING!!! #FINALLY!!!

[mysterytickingegos]

Ouija Board

Pairing: Ghost!Blank x Reader (Ambiguous)

Genre: Paranormal

Word Count: 1,512

Summary: Sequel to Blank’s Winter Ficlet. After months of Blank poking at your sanity out of boredom, you bring your friends home to get their help, and someone brings a Ouija board into the mix. The day ends with you being left with more questions than answers. (There will probably be another part to this later.)

Anonymous Request: 1. Blankgameplays 2. she/her 3. Platonic/ambiguous 4. Fluff (meet cute, like Blanky Boi is 'haunting' {would you call it haunting? is he even a ghost?} reader's house) Prompt: 63 - Reader: “I don’t believe in ghosts.” Blank: *about to ruin this mans whole career* Please and thank you with extra sprinkles on top ♥ ☆ﾟ.*♥･｡ﾟ♥

Authors Note: First off, to get it out of the way, I was originally using a gif from the tumblr search option, and I removed it when asked. Even though I’ve done so, I can’t remove the reply because they blocked me before I even saw the notification. The gif you should be seeing (if it matches the image description) is one I made myself. Now, onto the important stuff- Oh my god, it is about time I got this done! I’m so sorry it took this long for me to get to it! If it helps in any way I finished this fic with idea’s on continuing it later so...you’ll probably be getting more out of your request than most!

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[Image Description: A gif of Ethan (Crankgameplays) edited to be spooky with multicolored layers. He leans towards the camera and speaks ominously.]

You’d started out with nerves of steel.

Ghosts weren’t real. You knew that.

It’s an old house, and you have an overactive imagination. That’s what you told yourself, over and over again, even once it stopped making sense. But there’s only so many times you can catch things moving on their own, or you could hear that distant voice, before you started to get a little tense. So when you finally hit your limit, you turned to your friends, bringing them to the house in the hopes that they could confirm what you’d been seeing. Or not.

“Okay, before we go in, here’s the plan. We don’t talk about it.” You started, keeping Vi and Eric on the stairs. “Because I think if it knows that I told you about it, it won’t do anything. Like, try to make me look crazy.”

“You do look a little crazy right now.” Violet quipped, nudging you further up the stairs. “Come on, we get it. Act normal, pay attention, let’s get ghost hunting.”

“Ugh, please don’t call it that.” You unlocked the front door, stepping in with your friends following right behind you.

You tossed your keys onto the counter, and the sudden noise was all it took to make Eric yelp. You and Violet both turned to look at him, seeing him cover his face with his hand. “Sorry...”

You sighed, already close to giving up on this plan. You were pretty sure the so-called ghost didn’t even have to do anything. Eric was so nervous and Violet was so excited about this whole thing that they’d probably make up their own ghost story by the time you finished painting the office.

But you trudged forward, bringing them upstairs and getting to work.

You dug your speaker out of the closet, putting some decent music on and leaving it in the corner of the room. Eric pried the paint can open and Violet started lining the room with painting tape. For the first time in a long time, you were all stuck in an uncomfortable silence. waiting for something to happen.

But the day went off without a hitch. It was late in the evening when you finished painting the walls and your friends got ready to leave. “You know, if this was your way of trying to get free labor out of us, fair play to you.” Vi joked, slinging her bag over her shoulders at the door. “But honestly, I’m kind of bummed.”

You shook your head. “I swear I wasn’t, guys. I’m sorry. God, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Eric came up behind you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Hey it’s alright, you can- well I mean if you want you can stay with us for-”

Before he could finish, he was interrupted by a small thud and a clattering sound coming from the room right above you, the office. All three of you looked up at the ceiling, then at each other, before making a quick pace back upstairs. You flicked the light back on to see that the half-empty bucket of paint you’d left was now on it’s side, and the color of the floor now matched the walls.

“...Dude, this thing is an asshole.” Vi said bluntly, earning a quiet plea from Eric not to make it mad.

“I knew it! I told you! There’s no way this shit just happens, right?” Despite the fact your floor was ruined, you couldn’t help but get excited. “I mean it’s ridiculous but this happens all the time.”

“Okay, this is going to get even cooler, beeecause...” Vi grinned, pulling her bag back around and digging through it until she found what she was looking for, something wrapped in a beige cloth. “Guess what I brought.”

You watched her unwrap what turned out to be a planchette, which had been wrapped in what turned out to be a cloth Ouija board. Eric coughed nervously, taking a small step back towards the stairs, “I actually uh..I can’t stay, I sort of have a-a doctors appointment! Yeah, that. That’s what I have to get to.”

“It’s seven at night.”

“Yeah, um...it’s therapy. You know, they stay open late and...yeah.” And with that Eric excused himself from any further ‘ghost hunting,’ fleeing out the front door. Before you could also object to the idea of talking to the ghost, Vi grabbed your hand and pulled you along to the living room.

“Do you have any candles?” She asked, kneeling down on the floor and spreading out the Ouija board.

“I have a couple scented candles we could light, I guess...” You shrugged and went around collecting them. You started to say something more but stopped to rethink it. This was ridiculous. Lighting candles for a ouijia board? Acknowledging any of this ghost nonsense felt silly enough to you, just a couple months ago stuff like this was all a big joke to you. But what other explanation could there be for everything you had experienced? Maybe you should have done a bit more research, set up a camera or-

“Y/n?” Vi called out from the floor, pulling you out of your thoughts.

Swallowing your pride, you brought the candles and a matchbox over and kneeled across from her. “So since when are you interested in all this, anyway?”

“What, ghosts and stuff?” She stayed quiet for a moment as she helped you set the candles up on either side of the two of you. “I dunno, I guess I’m just starting to notice that maybe...things aren’t as they seem. Kind of like you. But I actually find it fun. So, are you ready to do this?”

You nodded. “I guess so...” Placing your fingers on the planchette, you took a deep breathe before you started. “Hello?”

“Hello? That’s all you’ve got?”

“Shush.”

“I’m just saying, maybe-” “It’s my house that’s haunted so-”

HELLO

You both fell silent again, glancing up at each other. She looked like she might explode from excitement and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. Then, you kept going. “My name is Y/n, this is my friend Violet.”

I  K N O W

“What’s your name?”

The planchette began to move again, but this time rather than settle on any letters or even move towards ‘No,’ it moved to a blank patch of the cloth.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you waited for any movement, but it didn’t come. “Do you have a name?”

D O  N O T  R E M E M B E R

‘Oh.’ You felt a pang in your heart at that.

Vi pouted a little, her head tilting to the side. She was the next to ask something. “What are you?”

G H O S T

“Alright-”

M A Y B E

“...Maybe?”

D O  N O T  R E M E M B E R

Chills ran down your spine. That was not a comforting thought. “Is there anything else in the house with us?”

NO

“You’ve really been scaring my friend, you know.” Vi said, looking cautiously around the room as she spoke.

I  K N O W

It took everything you had to keep your shaking hands on the planchette. “Do you want me to leave?”

Nothing happened. You waited, your heart pounding out of your chest. The sun had officially set, making the house pitch black aside from your little pocket of candlelight. You could almost make out a shadow over the board, it’s source seemingly coming from behind you. You didn’t dare mention it. “Do you want to be alone here again? Because I’d understand that.”

Even more dead silence.

Violet let out a sharp sigh, taking one hand off the planchette, despite your objection, to rub her temple. “Are you still there?”

YES

“I just want to understand why you’re doing this.” You said, much quieter than you meant.

S O R R Y

“You’re sorry?”

S T A Y

“But...what?”

You and Violet sat there for another thirty minutes, asking questions and waiting for answers that never came. The spirit was apparently done talking. “Alright, well...” Violet stood up, putting her bag back on.

“What? Wait, I don’t get any of this. What do I do?” You began to panic, not entirely sure if you should be leaving the board yet.

“You can have the board, keep trying tomorrow, I don’t know. Look-” Her tone was coming off uncharacteristically harsh now, as she avoided your eyes. “My head is splitting, think it’s all the candle fumes. I’m gonna breeze off, good luck though.”

You squinted at the door when it hit you what she said. "Breeze off?” Shaking it off, you turned your attention back to your unusual roommate. “Okay, I’m going to call it a night I guess. I have paint to clean up so,” You moved the planchette to ‘Goodbye,’ taking your hands off and being seconds away from blowing out the candles when it moved all on it’s own.

G O O D N I G H T

#blankgameplays x reader #blankgameplays fanfiction #blankgameplays x you #I wrote this in a burst in one day and if there are typos they are hiding from me

[puttingfingerstokeys]

why are you like this?

a wee bit of humor sprinkled with some poignant father-daughter moments. Sequel to reception (which I maintain is the WORST title).

Caged Heat, (again still “aged” heat, even though technically Johnny and Liu are the SAME age--Liu didn’t age so he looks like he’s in his 20s or whatever the fuck)

broken timeline

“Dad where WERE you?” Cassie’s voice held only a note of worry, to which Johnny responded dutifully by putting both hands up in mock surrender.

“Just checkin’ out the Fire Gardens, sweetheart; how many chances do ya get to do that in your life?” He was the picture of collected contentment, having rearranged his garb after Liu Kang rumpled it with his powerful, searching hands and aggressive lips. It was fortunate they’d stopped when they had. 

“Dad… why are you wearing sunglasses?” Her eyes were narrowed, sharp, just like her mother’s and Johnny felt a pang of guilt. This “dad” was distinctly different from the first. 

“Were you toking, Mr. Cage?” Takeda’s voice danced with amusement as he and Jacqui approached, she holding his arm and leaning heavily on him; he carried her shoes while she supported her swelling belly with her other arm. Little Hanzo was nowhere to be seen, but neither parent seemed worried.

“Is that what the kids are calling it… again?” Johnny’s eyes darted about as if searching for a solution to this sudden problem about which he had considered little when Liu Kang’s lips were on his, but in the gentle light and the dark tint of his sunglasses, no one could see.

“I think he was just trying to speak your language; now c’mon, you look stupid,” Cassie interjected, reaching out and, quick as lightning, snapping the shades off her father’s face.

There was an audible gasp from more than one mouth and the silence which followed was palpable.

“I’ll be damned,” came a grunt from near the cocktail bar where Erron Black was handing something sweet-looking to Jin, who did an almost comical double take. “Check them peepers.”

“By the Great Spirit,” Nightwolf whispered in disbelief. Even Fujin seemed more than a little surprised, but did his best to disguise it—the effort was wasted. No one was looking at him. All eyes, every single cognizant pair in the place, were affixed to Johnny Cage and his new set of “peepers”.

“Definitely toking,” Takeda concluded, bumping Cassie’s shoulder with a fistful of shoes, indicating she should probably give her father’s shades back. She did not, holding them tightly, mouth puckered in that way she had just about abandoned when she hit puberty—it came back every once in a while, when she was absolutely overcome and would not be reasoned with on any account. Johnny feared this look.

“Cass’,” Johnny began to explain, but she merely squeezed her fist, crushed his sunglasses and stalked off. One groom slid something into the other’s hand as they, too, emerged from parts unknown, Hanzo bearing his namesake upon his broad shoulders. Neither of them seemed particularly shocked—pun intended—but perhaps nuptial bliss was having an effect.

“I am not calling you Lord Johnny Cage,” said Sub-Zero firmly.

“You will be lord of very little, anyway, if you do not catch your daughter,” advised Scorpion. Johnny nodded numbly and went stumbling after her, wishing he had had just a little more to drink, or maybe a little less, so he could have retained the testicular fortitude to resist… But resist what? It was Raiden’s will that he, Johnny Cage, inherit his divinity and power. He didn’t have much of a choice. You couldn’t refuse something like that, could you? Either way, Johnny hadn’t and would have felt like he was insulting the guy if he had and he was of the opinion that it was idiotic in the extreme to go around insulting gods, especially ones like Raiden. There aren’t any gods like him…

“Cass’! Cassie, wait—Cassie… please, come on… You gotta let me explain this—it’s sudden for me, too!”

She stopped then, a little ways down a path he did not recognize. They were far enough from the gathering, once again, that the sounds were fairly muted, with trees, shrubbery, and walls dividing them. Cassie did not turn, keeping her back to her father, her shoulders rounded, body tense. She was shaking but Johnny knew better than to approach.

“So you’re just gunna leave, like that—mom’s gone and now you just can’t wait to fly the coop, huh dad?” Her voice was acid, venomous, burning and corroding both of them as she spoke. Frozen in place once more, Johnny wondered what in the world he could say that would convince her that he wasn’t simply leaving, flying the coop as she put it. Because in a way, he was.

“Cassie… I’m not—”

“You ARE.” She whirled on him, but did not approach, rage spilling off her in waves. He could almost feel it from here. Any minute, he thought, my baby girl’s gunna start glowin’ green and then I’m really in for it. The urge to laugh hysterically rose up in his guts and he stifled it, though not without effort.

“I’m not,” he said, quietly but with firm authority. He was still her father and if he had to attempt to pull that card to have this discussion, he would do it. “Cassie, I would never just…”

“Then what is this? Huh?” She gestured sharply toward his face and his glowing eyes, the arcs of electricity, now visible in the dimness, beginning to arc and dance nervously over his body, across the lines of his suit, illuminating him in an eerie blue.

“Raiden’s… gone, Cass’… Liu says he’s not dead, but he’s—we’re not gunna see him again; he’s mortal now, like, really mortal and I guess his final request was to give this shit to me. Kid, I don’t want this… I don’t want any of this, but I’m…” He trailed off helplessly, looking down at his hands which he curled into gentle fists and released, watching the sparks fly. “It’s… I have to.”

Cassie watched him, studying her father carefully, eyes blurred with tears. She was certain her carefully-applied eyeliner was running, despite the waterproof label. Furious with Johnny for this affront and at Raiden for bringing it on them, she nevertheless bore that ire in silence for the moment, considering all the thunder god had done for them, and their closeness. He had become a friend and now they would never see him again. His future self had been her mother’s downfall and for that, she could not forgive him, but the Raiden who had passed his power to Johnny was not the same man. She was fond of this one.

“It’s bad timing, I know,” Johnny continued, fumbling with his words, but wanting desperately to make Cassie understand something even he could not quite grasp. “And I’m not sure why he wanted me to have this. Liu doesn’t know either. Maybe Ol’ Sparky was goin’ senile or somethin’.” 

The humor was misplaced, he knew, and neither he nor Cassie laughed. She was at least watching him now, rather than outright fuming, regarding him carefully, studying her father. She chewed her lower lip, brows knitted at the center of her forehead. In this light, she looked just like her mother and Johnny’s heart squeezed with remorse.

“This… you need this,” Cassie said, concluding her internal thoughts aloud for her father’s benefit. “Dad, I know you… I’ve known you my whole life. Back then, when I was a kid, I used to wonder why you didn’t date anyone else when mom…” She sighed, shaking her head. “I thought that you looked so lonely and it broke my heart that I couldn’t fill that space for you. Worse… I kinda figured, y’know, I was the reason there WAS a space.”

There was a lump rising in Johnny’s throat, but he suppressed it, listening to his daughter, so much like him and yet so different, so wise for her age. Better than I was, he thought. 

“I know I wasn’t, y’know? But kids…. Anyway, you aren’t the kind of person who can be alone for very long, are you?” She did not mean the question in a cruel way. She sought truth and she, to Johnny’s chagrin, was absolutely onto something. It was, of course, not a truth he had known when he was younger, had only had inklings. Now, a man well into his fifties, he had figured it out, though it still stung to hear his baby girl say so.

“No, Cassie… I’m not.” The admission felt like a weight being lifted, but this also left him exposed, as if that weight had been a shield more than a burden. “I had to do it… when you were younger ‘cause, well you know what all the books say about a never-ending parade of people in the house when you’ve got a kid…”

“Thank you, Dad. You... “ Her whole body seemed to sag as she approached her father, arms open. “You deserve a break, but it looks like you’re getting more work, huh?”

“An eternity of it,” he admitted and wrapped his arms around his daughter. Cassie held him tight, withdrawing only when she could not take the oncoming numbness. 

“I dunno if I can get used to that,” she admitted.

“I don’t think I can turn it off,” Johnny said apologetically. 

“Yeah, Raiden couldn’t either,” she responded. Her eyes caught something and she stopped. “Hey… have you got like, a glowstick necklace on under your tux? I didn’t know they were handing out goodies like that.”

Cassie gestured toward the chest of Johnny’s tuxedo which, while still on him, in the most technical sense of the word, was askew and the fabric between the buttons had come dislodged (notably, his tie clip was nowhere to be seen). Despite his best efforts, he had evidently missed a few details. Johnny looked down and began to fumble with his tie, loosening it and tugging it aside, suddenly suspicious. Images of Liu Kang and Fujin’s beautiful, glowing marks of divinity were flashing in Johnny’s head and his fingers fumbled eagerly with the top three or four buttons of his shirt. 

“Oh my god, dad…” Cassie’s hand had found her mouth and she was grinning ear to ear. “You’ve GOT to show Liu; he’s gunna flip.”

“Show me what?” Liu Kang seemed to materialize out of the darkness… Perhaps he had merely approached and they had missed him in their excitement. 

“This,” said Johnny proudly, grinning and turning and tugging the top of his shirt open a little wider for his old friend’s perusal. In place of his “Johnny” tattoo, there was, in a very similar script (albeit glowing a soft blue-white) another word:

THUNDER

Liu Kang seemed to sigh with his entire body. “Why are you like this?”

#mortal kombat #johnny cage #cassie cage #liu kang #fire god liu kang #cc #cw #sub-zero #scorpion #caged heat #thermodynamic equilibrium #jacqueda #jacqui briggs #takeda takahashi #thunder god johnny cage #aged heat

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Fair Won Prize:  Chapter 1

It wasn’t much of a tavern, really. One room, a dozen or so tables scattered around, all of them battered and knife-scarred, and the chairs set before them not that much better. On one side a fireplace kept the room warm, or made a reasonably good attempt at such anyway. The chimney was in good enough condition that the smoke wended its way out of it instead of into the tavern itself.

Vector sniffed at the sight of it, lip curling. “There isn’t anywhere better?”

“Not around here,” Durbe replied, catching the eye of the tavern owner and gesturing him over. “And not that we could get to before that storm breaks.”

“Are you sure it’s going to be a storm?” Vector wanted to know. He wasn’t pouting by any means; this place just looked like trouble waiting to happen.

Vector had no problems with trouble. He just preferred to be the one starting it.

“Gilag is and that’s good enough for me,” Alit said, hands on his hips. “You wanna argue about that?”

Vector sniffed once again but subsided, for the most part. He followed the rest of the group over to the largest table, suitable for seven people only if they were close enough to one another.

Vector made a point to sit next to Mizael. He’d made a point of doing that everywhere they could for the last three months, since they’d formed their little band of adventurers. For one thing, Mizael was the absolutely prettiest of the seven of them, and Vector saw no reason to deny himself an attractive view.

Sitting here also provided him with the chance to remain hidden from most of the other people in the tavern, because they weren’t alone there. With Mizael in his sight and the various groups of thugs, mercenaries, and dimwits out of his sight, Vector thought spending the time of the storm here might be tolerable.

“What can I get for you fine folks?” The tavern owner asked once they’d settled in. “Gotta tell you, we probably don’t have what high-born folks like you are used to.”

Durbe offered a smile. “You might be surprised what we’re used to. But a good round of ale should do for a start.”

Mizael cleared his throat and Durbe chuckled. “I’m sorry. A round of ale for everyone else and if you have some sort of wine, my elven friend here would much prefer that.”

The tavern owner peered at Mizael, who peered right back, head held up high and with a light tilt to his head, asking without words if there were some kind of issue to his presence there.

“A genuine elf? We don’t get many of your – we haven’t seen too many elves around here in the longest time,” the tavern keeper declared. Vector did not like the sudden switch of words, nor did he like the way the keeper kept on staring. Granted, Mizael was attractive, but he was also Vector’s.

He just hadn’t gotten around yet to admitting it. But Vector had plans on that score.

Before the tavern keeper could scurry off, Gilag raised his hand for attention. “Could you bring me some water?” His hand dropped back down, petting Ponta, and the keeper’s gaze followed that way, blinking at the sight of the tanuki.

“O-of course, sir! I’ll be back right!”

He hurried out of sight, eyes still a little round in surprise. The tavern just had one room, but a curtain hung in between the majority of the room and where he presumably kept his stock of liquor. They could hear him moving around back there, pouring out ale, wine, and water.

“So you’re an elf.”

Vector turned back to see half a dozen grungy guys, who looked as if they at best had a nodding acquaintance with a toothbrush and a comb, but probably hadn’t bothered to see a tailor about mending their clothes in some time. Patches and stitched up tears were all done in a very slapdash, haphazard fashion. But to make up for that, every one of them stood a minimum of six feet tall, with muscles on top of muscles, and they all wore nearly identical sneers.

The one in the front, who’d spoken, had his eyes burning toward Mizael, who barely gave them so much as a look. Alit, however, grinned mischievously.

“You’re an elf, Mizael? Why didn’t you tell us?” He reached over to poke at the blond. “Do we really know you, then?”

Mizael rolled his eyes. “I would’ve thought the evidence would be obvious.”

The leader of the intruders glowered at them both. “I was talking to him. No one said you could interfere.”

“You were talking at him,” Ryouga said, his voice dangerously quiet. “I don’t think any of us are interested in a conversation with you.”

Mr. Muscles – as Vector mentally dubbed him, for lack of neither knowing nor caring what his actual name might be – glared at them all, rolling his tattered sleeves up to expose his arms. “I wasn’t talking to you, either!” He took a better look at Ryouga, then started to laugh. “What are you, some kind of a musician? Get out of here with that kind of junk.” He turned his gaze back toward the others. “Can any of you put up a decent fight? It gets boring around here when the weather gets bad.”

He sneered for a moment. “Well, any of you except the pretty elf and the musician.”

The looks exchanged were quicker than lightning and ended with Ryouga rising to his feet.

“Oh, no, I said not you!” Mr. Muscles laughed raucously. “I wouldn’t want to break your delicate hands!”

Ryouga sounded more annoyed than anything else. “If you want a fight, you’re going to get it with me.”

The whole bunch of toughs laughed even harder. Mr. Muscles shook his head and cracked his knuckles hard. “Well, if that’s the way you want it. Just don’t blame me when you can’t warble a tune or play an instrument anymore.”

Vector leaned forward, a gleam of mischief in his violet eyes. “Let’s make this more interesting. I’ll wager a silver that Ryouga puts you on your back in under three hits… and that you never lay so much as a finger on him.”

Mr. Muscles stared at Vector as if he’d never seen someone like him before. “You’ve gotta be joking! What, are you new?”

One of his buddies leaned forward as well. “I dunno, boss, I think we should take his money once you’re done.” A greedy smirk twisted his lips. “I say we take all of his money when you’re done.”

Vector smirked right back at him. I am going to kill you. “Let’s see how this fight comes out first.”

Mr. Muscles and Ryouga moved to the center of the room, Muscles’ minions moving the other tables and chairs out of the way to clear a space. Muscles flexed.

“Remember, all the pain you’re going to have is your own fault. Don’t blame me for it,” Muscles declared. “Got it?”

“Got it.” Ryouga looked more or less bored with the whole thing. Vector wondered where their ale was; it couldn’t take that long to pour out their drinks.

Then Muscles threw a fist at Ryouga, a hit that if it had connected would’ve probably hurt most people.

Ryouga stepped back and moved around, still looking as if this were the worst way to spend an afternoon he could think of, and not out of fear of being beaten up.

Muscles snarled at Ryouga’s near-effortless dodge, and the three or four that followed. “Stop running away! You’re not fighting!”

“All right, if you insist.” Ryouga shrugged before he powered one fist directly into Muscles’ chin, packed with every ounce of his strength behind it.

Muscles blinked. His eyes slowly rolled up to the back of his head and he fell over, not moving. One of his toughs dropped down next to him, hand to his throat. Vector approved of killing a leader while he was down. Perhaps this one showed a little sense.

Then the tough moved back. “He’s alive. He’s just out like a candle.”

Vector mentally sighed. It was so hard to find good assassins these days.

Then he smiled, looking at the rest of them. “I believe I won our wager. Hand over my money.” His eyes flicked from one to the other of them. “I think one silver from all of you will do.” And it would pay for their drinks, too, once the tavern keeper finally brought them out.

Two of the toughs dragged Mr. Muscles out of the tavern while the one who’d spoken up before now started to count out pieces of silver. Vector recounted them openly before he swept them into a neat stack.

“All right. The fun’s over, go away now.” He gave a little flick of one hand before he settled back into his dark cozy corner, quite satisfied with events so far.

The tavern keeper hurried over, carrying their drinks on a tray, and settled it down on the table in front of them. “Sorry for taking so long,” he apologized. “But I heard what was going on and I didn’t want to get in the middle of it and mess your drinks up.”

Ryouga shrugged, reaching for one of the mugs – which at leas looked clean – and tossing it back so fast Vector doubted that he even tasted it. “Sorry for any damages.”

The tavern keeper only shrugged. “Bejt and his group do that kind of thing whenever there’s new people in town. I’m used to it. Your drinks are on me tonight, and just tell me when you want to stop.” He turned toward Gilag, mouth open to ask something else, and froze.

Gilag set the bowl of water he’d been drinking from on their table, while Ponta peered up from where he held the mug of ale in his own paws. The tavern keeper blinked, rubbed his eyes, and then hurried out of sight, leaving them to their drinks.

“I don’t care how much money he could bring in if he’s a real bard,” Bejt growled, staring into the spotted mirror and trying to decide how much of what he saw was because of the low quality of the glass and how much was from that one hit that ridiculous musician landed on him. “I’m going to kill him and I’m going to have fun doing it.”

One of his assistants reached as if to pat him on the shoulder and got a death-glare sharp enough to cut paper from his efforts. He pulled his hand back and managed a quick smile. “Of course you will, boss. Doesn’t matter how good they are, once they finish drinking the good stuff, they’re not gonna be going anywhere we don’t want them to.”

Bejt grinned, showing a mouth that wasn’t nearly as full of teeth as someone without his lifetime of brawling would have. “That elf’s not going anywhere, not until I’m done with him. I’m going to have some fun and then when he’s nice and obedient, I know a goodplace to sell him. He’ll make us enough of a fortune to last for the next twenty years!”

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” One of his other assistants spoke up, a nervous twitch to one eye. This wasn’t surprising; Olan twitched about everything. “I mean, they’ve got horses. And one of them is a winged horse. And all that armor. And weapons.” He shuddered, ducking his head. “They look like they know how to use them.”

Bejt shrugged. “They wouldn’t be the first traveling mercs we’ve taken down. Won’t be the last, either.”

“I don’t think they’re just mercs. I mean, winged horse?” Olan shuddered again, staring up at his boss. “I think they’re heroes.”

“Yeah, right.” Bejt snorted. “The whole bunch of them don’t look like they’re together enough to kill a slug, let alone a dragon.” Heroes did things like that. At least they had in all the stories Bejt had ever heard. Killed dragons, rescued princesses from ravening monsters – or monsters from ravening princesses. He’d heard a lot of weird stories.

But that bunch? A musician, a pretty elf, what looked like a priestess, some short kid with maybe half of Bejt’s own muscles and too much of a sense of humor for Bejt’s tastes, someone in armor who might’ve been a down on his luck knight, some guy who had even more muscles than Bejt did but spent his time talking to some sort of fuzzy raccoon thing, and that idiot in the back who never let anyone get a good look at him.

That wasn’t what heroes were made out of it. Heroes had lots of good armor and didn’t stop in places like this, no matter what the weather looked like.

They might’ve thought pretending to be heroes would keep people off of them, but Bejt wasn’t most people. Once they had two or three rounds of the house special, they wouldn’t be awake enough to do anything at all.

That brought his thoughts right around to the pretty blond elf. Elves lived a very long time, he knew, and he couldn’t help but wonder what that elf had done in his life and how much he could be taught. Bejt looked forward to keeping him for at least a few years. He’d need to get properly trained before he could get sold, in order to make the most money, didn’t he? Bejt hadn’t ever trained someone before, but it couldn’t be that difficult. Smack ‘em when they did what Bejt didn’t want them to do until they learned better, that was it

It would definitely be a lot of fun. He looked forward to finding out just how much fun it was. He’d always had an eye for pretty faces of every kind, and there weren’t too many people prettier than an elf. He’d never had the chance to have one like this before, and he looked forward to finding out what it would be like.

All he needed was another hour or so, and then he and the others would be set for life.

Vector sniffed at the mug, then set it back down after taking a tiny taste of the ale. He’d never been much of one for drinking in the first place, at least not drinks that came from places like this. He wondered if it would be too much to ask if one of their mage-types could do something about the storm so they didn’t have to stay here at all.

We could get some decent food and drinks somewhere else. Maybe even a good bed. He knew that being on the road didn’t entitle him to the comforts of home, but they could at least have some comfort of some kind.

He leaned his head back against the wall and winced at the shock of thunder that rolled on by a heartbeat later. No one else looked bothered by the rain at all. Gilag sat on the outside of the table, closest to the door, and from the way he kept looking out there, it wouldn’t have been too surprising if he got up to wander out there. Druids did things like that, soaking up the rain. Vector had no idea of why druids couldn’t invest in some kind of weather protection. Maybe it was a religious thing.

He’d never wasted his time on religion and until he’d come to join this group, he hadn’t associated with religious types of any sort. But traveling with a druid and a priestess meant that he got more than he’d ever wanted of the whole concept.

He let his gaze drift back to Mizael. He could think of one or two gods he’d like to thank for the creation of the elven race and for Mizael in particular. Along with one or two he’d consider offering up a tribute to in order to get the elf compliantly in his bed, without risking Jinlong having him for dinner or the rest of the group getting furious at him.

Which meant he would have to keep on courting Mizael so that it was all willing on his side.

He wasn’t used to having to ask for what he wanted. Or who he wanted. He’d commented once at breakfast that he’d seen an attractive person the day before in the marketplace and that evening, that same person awaited him in his bed, courtesy of his father.

That had been an enjoyable few months, all things considered. If it had been possible, or workable with his father’s plans, he didn’t doubt that he would’ve already enjoyed time with Mizael.

I think this might be more interesting, though. Frustrating, but enjoyable in the end, once he’d achieved his goal. There was something to be said for getting something desired by hard work instead of being given it.

Vector glanced to the others again, the sound of the rain battering against the side of the building, making it plain they weren’t going anywhere right now. He suspected Rio and Gilag would both insist that they shouldn’t try to mess around with the weather, something about natural causes and not interfering. That made no sense to him at all. What good was magic if you couldn’t use it to twist the world around to the way you wanted it to be?

His eyes narrowed suddenly as he took in what was going on with his companions. He wasn’t surprised to see Gilag’s eyes drooping, let alone Ponta’s, not with that rain. If it didn’t call a druid out to dance in the rain or whatever, it would probably put them to sleep.

But Ponta spent so little time being visible when they were in civilized territory that Vector almost forgot he even existed. There he was, having finished his ale – you’d think a magical creature would have better taste than that! - and now curled up on Gilag’s lap, sound asleep.

Vector checked on Alit: already asleep. Durbe was as well, eyes closed and chest rising and falling evenly. Ryouga still had his eyes half-open, and Rio looked as if she were fighting off the urge to sleep herself.

He looked at Mizael then, and knew something was wrong.

Elves don’t sleep. Not like that, anyway. Mizael had explained it once, but Vector had been too wrapped up in admiring the way the sunlight glinted off the elf’s golden hair to pay attention. He sort of wished that weren’t true now.

But Mizael’s eyes were as tightly closed as the others, even as Ryouga’s slid all the way shut, and Rio followed him into slumber in another few moments.

This wasn’t right in the slightest. Vector’s thoughts raced before he chose his path, closed his eyes, and let himself sag a little more, as if he’d succumbed as well. There wasn’t any use in trying to wake them up. They’d be too sluggish to do anything for too long. Not to mention, Vector had a feeling he knew who was involved in this, and he swore he’d paint the walls with their blood.

He couldn’t see what was going on, but after what felt like forever, he could hear footsteps entering, and a sense of shadow fell over him. He kept himself from moving, no matter how much he wanted to, and listened.

To Be Continued

Note: And now we return to the world of the Order of the Outcasts. This is that little interlude piece to explain something. A larger piece revolving around Yuuma, Kaito, Haruto, and Astral will come at a later point, on SilvorMoon's profile. But until then, I hope you enjoy this.

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #YGO ZEXAL #mizael #vector #Vector x Mizael #mizael x vector #chapters: fair won prize #series: order of the outcasts #au: fantasy

[crimsonrae]

Across the Road, At the Brothel

Chapter One

Summary: Jaskier fell in love any day that the sun rose in the East. It was a trifling, pleasurable experience for him. Even when he was jumping out a window to avoid cuckolded husbands. So what happens when his trifles start to become more significant? Jaskier/OC. Some Yennefer/Geralt

A/N: Jaskier is just too adorable not to write about. This is a relationship development story with an OC. There will be smut in later chapters and plenty of angst.

Rating: Mature

The Rose and Pine

O' Valley of Plenty

Valley of Plenty...

The crowd of the Rose and Pine belted loudly as the Bard's lyrical strumming underscored the lighthearted air of the tavern. Lyrra shook her head and bit back a smile as she set down steins of ale and cups of wine before a few new arrivals. It was the largest crowd she had seen in weeks and she knew that it was in no small part due to the man currently entertaining Glynedol's lower masses and his conspicuously missing travel companion.

Glynedol was no stranger to road-weary travelers. The small town laid on the northern rim of Toussaint and generally acted as a respite for those heading into or out of the city proper. Most had barely batted an eye at the sight of the bard, it was the Witcher he traveled with that was the anomaly. There wasn't much call for his type in wine country. Especially not in the late summer months when the sky was clear and towns bustled with traders for the harvest season. Lately, those travelers and traders had been few and far between despite the late summer harvests Toussaint was undergoing for the last wines of the year. The Rose and Pine should have been raucous and crowded long before the bard and Witcher had arrived.

Biting back a frown, Lyrra flipped her tray from under her arm and gathered empty dishes left on the tables. She didn't have time to ponder the strangeness of late – work beckoned. Quite literally. She sighed quietly as she spied a hand raised for her attention. Turning, she slipped seamlessly between bodies and carried on the same routine she had been conducting for over two years. She took orders, served food and drink, bussed tables, and collected coin while returning flirtatious smiles with a polite quirk of her mouth or an offhand comment to those with whom she was more familiar. The routine settled her and it wasn't long before she managed to drown out the offkey singing or her customers.

It was perhaps because she had made herself selectively deaf that she didn't notice the boisterous choir return to a low roaring murmur. Or it could have been the hand latched tightly to her wrist that had distracted her from the general atmosphere.

"How much?"

Putrid breath made her eyes water as Lyrra took in the greasy man holding her captive. His leer left no vagueness to his question, still, she raised a brow and resisted the urge to yank her arm back, "For what?"

"You."

When his gripped tightened to pull her down onto his lap, she stiffened her legs and leaned back. Her foot rested on the leg of his stool and the sudden pressure downward made his seat wobble. He quickly lost his grip as he fought to keep his seat. To anyone looking it would merely seem as if a drunk too far into his cups lost his balance for a moment.

Lyrra took that moment to step away from his reach and smiled benignly at his scowl, "The brothel is across the road."

She stepped between tables before the letch had a chance to respond, intent on reaching the bar. Hillard was already placing her next order on a new tray.

"Now, that was clever." A dimly amused voice caught her ear.

Lyrra glanced over her shoulder to see the bard watching her with a curious smile. A faint flush painted his cheeks from his earlier performance, but it was the way his blue eyes seemed to twinkle that had her stomach suddenly twisting in knots. Oh no...

Lyrra blinked, "Sorry?"

"Your dismissal of the gentleman back there. Well, if one were to call him a gentleman, bit of a stretch if I may say so." The bard carried on as he leaned his lute against his thigh.

" ' Suppose..." Lyrra murmured quietly as she kept her gaze indifferent. She found her polite smile again as she asked, "Somethin' you need, dove?"

The bard's smile seemed to flicker as he tilted his head confusedly, "Uh ah, yes. A cup of wine when you have a moment."

"Course." She nodded already turning to gather her loaded tray.

"... And perhaps another for yourself. I'd appreciate the company." He smiled hopefully as she turned back to him abruptly, "Just conversation, I assure you."

Lyrra's found her mouth moving, but no sound emitting as she stared awkwardly at him. It wasn't often she was caught by surprise and even less often that she received such a civil offer from a man. He seemed to delight in her floundering as his smile quirked into a grin. It was the grin that kicked her brain back into gear even as she felt a blush crawling up her neck, "I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding companionship tonight. You have a room full of admirers after your performance."

She firmly clenched her drink laden tray and moved to go about him, but the bard had other ideas as he quickly stepped into her path, "And were you one of them?... My admirer, that is?"

She eyed him cautiously as she tried to quell the vivacious butterflies his attention was giving her. He didn't seem dangerous...but still, "Look, sir."

"Jaskier." the Bard blurted with what she supposed was a roguish grin, though it appeared almost nervous, "My name is Jaskier...or dove. I didn't mind when you called me that."

A smile unwilling twitched at the corners of her lips, "Jaskier -"

"And your name?" He cut her off, attempting to look innocent for the crime.

She licked her lip and shook her head amused despite herself, "Lyrra."

"Lyrra." Jaskier uttered softly, his eyes dancing merrily, "Lovely...when you get a break Lyrra, please come sit with me."

She was so very tempted to say yes to him, if only to find out why he was doggedly interested in her, but still, she hesitated, "You've drawn quite a crowd tonight, sir bard. I'll be busy for a while yet. Should I have a spare moment... I may say hello."

"You will." A grin lit his features in triumph, he sounded so certain.

Lyrra sighed exasperated, "I might."

"Oh see, you're playing hard to get, but you can't fool me. You will."

She shouldn't find his smugness as attractive as she did. Lyrra huffed a quiet laugh and passed him a wine goblet from her tray, "I won't if I don't get back to work now."

Jaskier gracefully accepted the cup, his fingers lightly brushing hers as he stepped out of her way, "I'll wait for you with bated breath."

Lyrra merely shook her head at him again as she moved back to her customers. From time to time she could feel his eyes watching her as she worked, but she refused to let herself look back. He was rather attractive, but it was easy to become bewitched by pretty smiles and even prettier words and she was sure he knew them all...bards were supposed to. Still, she wasn't looking for a mere dalliance with a man who could sing about it from here to the Dragon Mountains. Unbidden, she glanced thoughtfully over to Jaskier and found him chatting amiably with a few of the town's folk. Her regulars actually... As if sensing her gaze, he turned in time to catch her eyes. A puckish smirk pulled at his lips at having caught her in observation and she blushed heavily as she quickly returned to work.

She did not flirt well.

Willing the color in her cheeks down, she glided back to the bar to drop off the last of the dishes she had collected. Hillard was waiting for her, an appraising gleam in his chocolate eyes, "You've the minstrel unda' yer spell, Lyrra."

Again, the blush rose to her cheeks, "Stop it."

"He speaks fancy...like you." Hillard smiled slyly as he watched her squirm and glared balefully at him, "Chased the kipper out that was a botherin' ya too."

Lyrra's brow arched incredulously, "Wha..?"

The bartender snorted, "Kept knockin' into and spillin' drinks on the sod till he left in a huff. Was a laugh. For a singa, he's crafty in 'is antics, but I saw 'im."

"Does he have your seal of approval, then?" Lyrra asked somewhat sarcastically as she snuck a glance at the bard from her periphery.

"Ehh, I dunno about tha...He does travel wit a witcha." Hillard replied with a shrug, "He doesn't seem ta bad though."

Lyrra rolled her eyes and handed over the coin she had collected. She was surprised when Hillard took the coin and her tray. He smirked at her before handing her a goblet of wine, "Go on. Go sit wit yer bard."

"Hillard!" Lyrra whispered in a scolding manner, feeling her cheeks burning again. "I still have tables."

Hillard waved her off, "Mirel can do 'em. She's been sittin' on her bum most o' ta night anyway. Go, his cup 'as already been topped off."

It didn't feel right to socialize with a customer when there was work to be done. Hesitantly, she wrapped her fingers around the metal goblet and willed herself to move. Panic momentarily fluttered in her chest at the thought of approaching Jaskier like this...even if he was waiting for her to do so. Instead, she slipped onto a stool not even a foot from the bar to sip at the wine. She'd freely admit she was a coward at that moment, but there was no force on earth that would get her to move. Hillard shook his head at her before taking the dishes back to the washer and she breathed a sigh of relief at having his silent judgment disappear.

"You know," Jaskier drawled lowly behind her, making her tense, "This looks suspiciously like a break, but that can't be right." He moved around to stand before her, a goblet dangling from his hand as his eyes danced with muted amusement, "I'm rather sure we agreed that you'd be sitting, and hopefully conversing with me on your break. So, tell me, lovely Lyrra, are you blatantly standing me up?"

There was a brief silence as Lyrra fought to find her voice again, "I don't recall actually agreeing to anything. I said I might say hello... Hello."

"Oh, come on!" Jaskier goaded lightly as he slid into the stool across from her, "Am I really so horrid that you won't have a simple conversation with me? Do I have horns growing out of my head? Or oh, worse is there a smell I'm emitting?" He cringed to her bemusement as he pulled the collar of his doublet towards his nose, "I knew I shouldn't have trusted that laundress not to put my clothes in the same tub as Geralt's. The stuff he comes cover back in is truly appalling."

An amused smile twitched at her lips as she watched his antics, "You don't smell...or if you do, I can't smell it from here."

Jaskier dropped his collar and tilted his head curiously at her, "Then why won't you sit with me?"

"We're sitting now." Lyrra pointed out, "Besides why do you want my company so badly?"

"The company of a beautiful lady? What kind of man would I be not to want that?" Jaskier murmured charmingly with a soft smile.

It was a very practiced line to Lyrra's ears, however. She smiled ruefully at him, "You know, you can easily find that company - "

"Across the road, at the brothel." Jaskier said with her.

Lyrra blinked and he grinned, "How'd I know you were going to say that? There's more than one way for a man to enjoy a woman's company, you know?"

She shook her head at him, "You're very strange."

"And you're intriguing." He shot back with a sip of his wine, only to sit up in alarm as she moved to stand, "Wha - wait, where are you going?"

Lyrra turned her goblet upside down to show him an empty glass. Her stomach was in butterflies again as his suddenly indecipherable gaze fell heavy on her, "Wine's gone. Which means my break is over. Goodnight, Jaskier."

"You don't play fair, Lyrra." Jaskier intoned sulkily and she bit back a smile as she realized he was pouting.

"I have no reason to play fair." Lyrra murmured back, "No, woman does."

An impish spark lit his azure orbs, "That's true. Can I walk you home? Once you're done that is."

She shook her head in answer and stepped away to find her tray again, his eyes burned into her back as she did so. Almost unwillingly she caught his gaze over her shoulder and sent him an impish smile of her own. Somehow, she didn't think the bard would be giving up on his conversation so easily

Next Chapter

#the witcher #jaskier #jaskier fanfiction #witcher fanfiction #Geralt #yennefer #jaskier x oc #joey batey #henry cavill #fanfiction #fanfic

[hopeaterart]

I’m gonna be there Chapter 17

Do not be fooled by the fact that this is a breather chapter between two major events: there’s a lot going on here. (If someone correctly guesses who Kakyoin is talking about when he mentions someone nice working for Dio, I will make them a drawing of their choice.)

“WAKEY WAKEY, COWBOY MAN!” SPLASH!

Hol Horse woke up with a yell, his wrist restrained behind him and his ankles tied to the front legs of a chair. He slowly looked around. Miss Holly and Polnareff were there, the blond woman standing up in front of him and the frenchman leaning on a wall, a tall girl with goggles on her head standing next to him. There was also a short man standing behind Holly, a bucket in his hands.

“So, Hol Horse, is it?” The short man asked, tilting his head to the side as he came closer. “I want you to give me one good reason why I shouldn’t slit your throat here and now.”

The cowboy laughed nervously. “You’re bluffin-”

“He’s not.”

“He’s not.”

“He’s not.”

“I’m not.”

“So now that we’ve established that my husband would not hesitate to get rid of you,” Holly started, narrowing her eyes. “Maybe you’ll be willing to answer a few questions-”

“SIS! I’M BACK! AND I BROUGHT DONUTS!” A cheerful voice sounded out in the house, making Holly flinch in surprise.

“I- Alright, Joey!” Holly yelled back. “I’m busy with something right now! If Joriko needs help with her homework, can you help her?”

“Sure thing!” Holly nodded to herself, turning back toward the cow-boy.

“As I was saying, I have a few questions for you. They’re about Dio.”

““L- look, I dunno where Dio came from, or what he has against you people, aight?” Hol Horse started, brows furrowed. “All I know is that he’s payin’ me a huge amount of money to kill ya and yer son.”

“That doesn’t explain why you were working with the scumbag that killed my little sister!” Polnareff snapped.

Hol Horse looked confused for a moment, but all it took was the girl next to him cracking her knuckles to get him to spill. “I- I didn’ wanna work with him at first. I have standards, for Christ’ sake!” He momentarily snapped, Holly narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

“Then why were you working with him?”

“Because my Emperor isn’t really good on it’s own.” He started, shrugging. “But works almost perfectly in conjunction with Hanged Man. If we had both been inside, the fight would’ve gone differently, and we would already be collecting our reward.”

“Wrong: if you had won that fight, I would’ve killed the both of you with a kitchen knife upon coming back home, especially if I had found my wife dishonored.” The short man hissed.

“... Okay, who are you?”

“Kujo Sadao.”

“As in the jazz musician!?”

“I am the jazz musician.” He deadpanned. “And I’d like you to focus on the ‘married to Holly and father of Jotaro’ part.”

Holly was about to add something, when suddenly: “MOM! WE’RE BACK! ” Another voice sounded out this one much deeper, Holly sighing this time.

“I- I’m a little busy right now, Jotaro. Your uncle brought back donuts, if you’re hungry.” She yelled back.

“Can we order pizza for dinner? Noriaki-kun wants pizza.”

“I do want pizza!” Kakyoin added from the other end of the house.

“I want pizza too.” Polnareff admitted, both Sadao and the tall girl nodding.

“Alright, order pizza then!”

“Remember, no mushrooms! I can’t eat that shit.” Sadao yelled, Jotaro answering affirmatively.

“So...” Hol Horse started, gesturing with his head to the younger woman in the room. “Who are you?”

“Kujo Jojimi, Jotaro’s cousin.” She answered blankly, Hol Horse nodding.

“Alright... family’s way bigger than I thought.” He muttered under his breath. “If I had known, I would’ve asked for something bigger...”

Holly suddenly raised her head, turning toward Hol Horse. “How much is Dio paying you for our heads?”

“Uh? I... about fifty grand each. American dollars”

“What do you think of five hundred thousand to leave us alone, then? American dollars, of course.” The woman proposed, baffling the cowboy.

“Uh, Holly?” Sadao hesitantly started. “You do know that five hundred thousand dollars is roughly five million yens, right?”

“And we can pay for it.” Holly reassured him. “At worst, I’ll convince papa we need some money.”

“Lady.” Hol Horse finally spoke up. “If you give me 5 hundred thousand, I’ll help you kill the fuckin’ vampire.”

“... Well, that’s settled!” Holly cheerfully declared, clapping her hands together and turning toward Sadao. “Dear, could you untie him?”

Sadao nodded, untying the cowboy and helping him stand up. “Alright, thanks, but...” Hol Horse started awkwardly just as he rubbed his wrist. “Where am I gonna be sleepin’?”

And just like that, Sadao’s urge to run the cowboy over with his car was back.

-

“Alright, so...” Sadao started, visibly tired. “Jojimi and Joriko will go back to their house with Hol Horse.” He started. “They’re going to call Daisuke to stay with them to make sure he” the musician pointed at the cowboy “doesn’t try anything. As for here, Polnareff-san will stay in the living room, and Joey can stay in the first guest room. As for Kakyoin-kun, he will go back in the second guest room. Any question?”

“Yeah- how come I have to stay in the living room?” Polnareff asked, frowning. “I mean, when your nieces were living there, you set up your office to let Kakyoin have some private space. Why can’t I have that!?”

“You can leave whenever you want. I can’t.” Kakyoin told him, shrugging.

“Also, I’m pretty sure my sister considers you to be her second child at this point...” Joey muttered under his breath.

“Well, I’m not leaving anytime soon!” Polnareff declared. “The Kujos have freed me from my brainwashing and Holly helped me take revenge for Sherry! The least I can do is help them defend themselves against Dio!”

Holly smiled. “Thank you, Jean-Pierre.”

“Uh... we’re gonna go pack our things.” Jojimi told the rest of the family, who all nodded as she and Joriko started to exit the room. “Hol Horse-san? Please go wait by the door.”

“Of course, little lady.” The cowboy stated, starting to get up before having his wrist grabbed. He turned, toward the person, who turned out to be Sadao. “What?”

“I just want to make things clear.” Sadao started, raising up and dragging Hol Horse to his eye level. “If so much as a whisper of a hair out of place on either of niece’s head reaches my ears? I will fucking ruin your life, and make sure you regret ever stepping foot in Japan, and you will forever fear the name Kujo Sadao. Understood?”

“... So bein’ terrifying runs in the family, eh?”

“Yes, and I’m serious. Hurt my nieces, and I’ll do to you what I did to the rests of my agents.” Sadao bluntly told the cowboy, letting him go and then sitting back down.

“What... happened to the rest of his agents?” Hol Horse asked, turning toward Jotaro as the delinquent got up.

“Google it up, shitlord. I’m going outside for a smoke.” Jotaro told his parents as he left the room, shrugging his school coat off. He normally kept it on as log as possible for comfort, but the temperature was getting too high for him.

He groaned as he came into the backyard, the temperature somehow higher outside. Why the hell was it so hot!? They were in the middle of December! He groaned, sitting down and lighting himself a cigarette, trying to process everything that had happened in the last few weeks. He didn’t notice Kakyoin he came to sit down next to him, the redhead sighing. “God, it feels like an oven in here.”

Jotaro nodded. “Yeah.” He turned toward the sun, covering his eyes. “Is it normal for the temperature to rise when the sun looks bright?”

“The sun is supposed to be... bright...” The redhead trailed off, looking at the courtyard with a frown. Something seemed... off.

Kakyoin gasped in realization, tapping Jotaro on the shoulder. The delinquent turned toward him, frowning. “What?”

“That spot over there...” He pointed at a tree in the garden. “Is it me or are the shadows wrong?”

Jotaro squinted, before his eyes widened in realization. He groaned. “Yeah, no shit, that tree wasn’t even there before-” He picked up a rock on the ground, standing up as he did so. “I can see you, bitch!” He then threw the rock, and the very air shattered like glass.

Kakyoin sighed in relief when the sun lessened in brightness, the sudden heatwave going away with it. “Looks like the user of the Sun Stand was out and about. Oh well, third Stand user to be taken out in a day. Should take a while for others to show up, so I’m not going to complain.”

“How many?”

“... uh?”

“How many are there left? Of Dio’s henchmen.” Jotaro asked, sitting back down and looking at Kakyoin.

The redhead sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t remember seeing most of these people. I- I think he’s just hiring bounty hunters, right now. No point in sending his best underlings when we haven’t done anything to hinder him, after all.”

“Yeah, but it’s starting.” Jotaro stated with slight panic in his tone. “You... you said it yourself: the mother of the guy Polnareff killed today is really close to Dio.” He buried his face in his hands. “I... I’m scared.”

Kakyoin blinked, before gently taking one of Jotaro’s hand away from his face, the taller boy turning to look at him. “It’ll be okay. Don’t ask me how I know, it’s just- I just know, you guys make me feel safe. As for Dio’s henchmen...” The redhead seemed deep in thought for a moment “I think the rest of the Tarot might show up, and I think I remember... nine plus one. There’s ten people that work close to Dio. Maybe a few more people that are with him for the same reason Polnareff and I were. There’s also someone else who lives with him, but I’m not sure. The few times I’ve interacted with him stand out in my memory, but it’s because he’s... nice.”

“Wait. Dio attracts kind people?” Jotaro frowned in confusion. “I thought only, like, evil and fucked up people would work for him.”

Kakyoin shrugged. “I mean, something was definitely fucked up about that guy. I thought he was faking it, first time he helped me.”

“Was he?”

“Well, I ended up walking on him having sex with Dio, so take a guess.” Kakyoin deadpanned. Jotaro hummed, looking at his hand still in the redhead’s before sighing.

“What... what did Dio do to you for you to want to kill him?” The redhead froze, an expression of pure terror on his face. “You- you don’t have to tell me, it’s just-”

“I... he hurt me.” Kakyoin choked out. “He abducted me from my life, my parents, stripped me of all power over myself, made me feel powerless, used me for his own twisted amusement.” The redhead’s laughed at that, but it sounded more like sobbing. “I want him to suffer- I need him to suffer. I want to hold his less than worthless life in my hands and twist until it breaks!” He snapped.

Kakyoin then gasped, and sent an hesitant look at Jotaro, as if he was afraid of his reaction. But the taller teenager just nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. You should be the one who gets to kill him.”

“... what?”

“I don’t want to kill anyone, mom doesn’t like violence- she doesn’t hate it either, she’s just... neutral toward it- and I’m pretty sure that if my life wasn’t in danger, dad wouldn’t give a fuck.” Jotaro explained, shrugging. “If anyone should get the satisfaction of killing that bastard it’s you, Noriaki-kun.”

Kakyoin sighed, a small smile on his lips as he put his head on Jotaro’s shoulder. “Thank you, Jotaro-kun.”

-

Dio took his hand off the crystal ball, the Stand that was supposed to belong to Jonathan retracting back inside of wherever Stands lived. “And there you have it. Your son was killed by Jean-Pierre Polnareff, and Holly Joestar. As for Hol Horse, he has betrayed us.”

The bloody old woman growled. “How dare they... my perfect son... and with dirty tricks like that... I must avenge him!” She snapped. Dio raised a consterned eyebrow.

“You want to go after the Joestar now? After they took out every member of the Tarot order you sent after them?” Well, almost all of them. Gray Fly got taken out before he could make it to Japan in a plane crash, ironically enough.

“It doesn’t matter! I, Enya, SHALL KILL THEM ALL!” The old woman exclaimed as she ran off, the vampire calculating her chances in his head. She might have easily been able to take them down before, but now? As it now was, Enya stood no chance. Dio sighed. What a shame, she had been quite useful to him...

“Lord Dio?” The blond vampire turned toward the voice, smiling as Jude came into view, wrapped in a blanket. The purple-haired boy was good with technology (those times were so advanced, technologically speaking, that Dio had to admit to himself there was no way he could catch up alone), had info on a... infuriating organization that seemed to be after him, and was a good lay.

“Come here, dollface.” The slender man approached Dio, settling down next to him and cuddling up at his arm, the vampire carding his claws through the choppy hair. “I need you to call one of my bounty hunters...”

-

“You’re still watching them?”

“Well, someone has to keep an eye on them, and since Joseph is kept out of that particular loop...”

“... Okay? Say, Viola? Wouldn’t it be easier to just... help them in person, instead of spying on them?”

“I know, Ros. I just... it’s been so long, I don’t know if I can. I suppose I could get Hills or Nicole to go check on them in person, since they’re already in the country...”

“Aren’t they busy tracking down the Arrow that bloodsucking joto hid over there?”

“Urgh, you’re right... do you have any ideas?”

“Uh... yeah: we go to the Kujo house, you drop me there, you give them a lie, and promptly fuck off while I help them fend off bicho’s bounty hunters. Thoughts?”

“No. Out of everyone, you’re the one I want to put in danger the least-”

Riing~ Riing~ Rii-

“Yes hello?”

“... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...”

“Really? Which one?”

“... ...”

“... Oh. I see. Thank you.” click. “It seems there’s been a change of plan, and you’re coming with me.”

“Wait- we’re actually going to help-”

“Yes. Start packing your baggage, Rosaura: we’re going to Japan!”

#writing #My writing #Holly Kujo #Kujo Holly #sadao kujo #kujo sadao #Hol Horse #Polnareff #Jean-Pierre Polnareff #Jotaro Kujo #Kujo Jotaro #Kakyoin #Noriaki Kakyoin #Kakyoin Noriaki #jotaro x kakyoin #Dio Brando #oc #jojo oc #JJBA #jojo #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken

[juju-on-that-yeet]

There Are Worse Things I Could Do, Chapter 9/10

Summary: Dark comes to collect Yancy from jail and let him know of his punishment. Yancy is equal parts scared of Dark and eager to finally, finally go home. Warnings: None Characters: Yancy, Darkiplier

Read on AO3

Enjoy!

~

It’s late the next morning when Yancy senses that something’s off.

For one thing, the lights start to flicker slightly. For another, the security cameras in the corners of the walls spark and die. Most tellingly, though, a tendril of inky smoke winds down the hallway, slips between the bars of Yancy’s cell, and coils around his arm.

“Dark,” he gasps.

Sure enough, a moment later, the man himself appears before Yancy, hands clasped behind his back, sharp gaze staring Yancy down through his cell.

He does not look happy.

“C’mon, say something! Make it good, you haven’t seen him in days! Some sort of justification, or apology, or anything, just don’t leave him hanging!”

“U-Um,” Yancy stammers, “Uh…good morning, sir?”

“Really?”

“Don’t be like that! I’ve been through a lot lately, what did you expect me to say??”

The cell door slams open with a metallic screech as Dark’s aura tears it open. Yancy yelps at the volume, but Dark doesn’t react. He only jerks his head towards the station’s exit.

“Come.” His voice is deep, echoing, colder than ice. His form shivers with suppressed rage.

Yancy scrambles to his feet and scuttles after Dark.

He wonders briefly why Dark isn’t just teleporting them. He broke the cameras, didn’t he? Walking through the station, Yancy sees unconscious officers and sparking computers. The place is utterly silent aside from the electrical pops and Dark and Yancy’s footsteps. Maybe Dark’s making them walk to intimidate Yancy. It’s certainly working: It’s a walk of shame on par with the road to solitary Yancy remembers from Happy Trails. It’s a similar dread, a similar fear of saying the wrong thing or making the wrong move. He’s still reeling from the night before, still exhausted yet too hyped up to think about sleep.

And he suspects his very long day is far from over.

This is confirmed when Dark opens the door to exit the station, and instead of seeing the street outside, the open door leads to nothing but blackness, thick like a wall.

Oh, fuck.

Yancy has no choice but to follow Dark into the void, head down, trudging sadly, nervously.

They don’t walk very long, but it’s long enough for Yancy to get uncomfortable in the darkness. His own footsteps don’t make any noise, but he can hear whispers around him, unintelligible and barely there. He knows he’s sweating, skin chilled. He strains to see Dark ahead of him in the blackness. When he hazards a glance over his shoulder, he can’t see the station’s lobby anymore. He shudders, tries his best to keep his cool, but he’s being reminded more and more of solitary every second: The darkness in that windowless room, the cold permeating every corner, the way sounds echo and just barely filter in from outside, not enough to listen to, but enough to remind Yancy of what’s he’s missing. This place, this void, is far too familiar. Dark’s back ahead of him is too similar to Warden Murderslaughter, he has the same confidence that Yancy will not dawdle or run away. But Murderslaughter at least pretended to care about Yancy most of the time. Dark has no such reservations. Yancy almost whimpers, but keeps himself quiet.

Finally, Dark stops. Yancy stops just after, too focused on Dark and on behaving well to accidentally keep walking (a mistake he’s made before). Dark turns to him and glares down at him. Yancy wonders how he looks to him; red-rimmed and purple-smudged eyes, rumpled and stained clothes that don’t belong to him, a bandaged gash up his arm, shaking with fear and hurt. It’s not enough to move Dark, though; his gaze is still sharp, still cold, unyielding and unwavering.

“Do you understand,” Dark begins slowly, form already cracking with rage, “Exactly how much trouble you’re in?”

“U-um,” Yancy stammers. He knows that what he thinks the answer is doesn’t matter; it’s only what he’s expected to say. “No, s-sir.”

“I thought not.” Dark steps forward, closer. Yancy resists the urge to step back, away. “You left Ego Inc. without informing anyone, with the intent to stay away forever, or as long as you could manage.” His form snaps. “You got yourself arrested, put into the system, putting every single one of us at risk. Do you understand why we are meant to live in Ego Inc.? Do you understand what could happen to us, to Mark and his channel, if we were exposed? If your recklessness brought trouble to the rest of us?” There’s three Darks now, transparent technicolor shadows of himself on either side.

“Y-Yes, sir,” Yancy whispers, unable to be louder.

“You understand, I’m sure, that you have to be punished,” Dark continues. He’s never reminded Yancy so much of Warden Murderslaughter before.

“Yes, sir,” Yancy mumbles, trying to meet Dark’s eyes but finding it very difficult. They’re flashing pure black every few moments.

A pause. Dark lets Yancy absorb the situation.

“Do you know,” he asks, “How long you’ve been away from Ego Inc.?”

It’s another question that Dark doesn’t expect a good answer from. Yancy tries to give him the correct response.

“A while, sir.” He nervously shifts his feet. “Dunno how long exactly.”

“Eighteen days, Yancy,” Dark growls, shell cracking around him with anger. Yancy winces; he must’ve responded wrong, and now he’ll pay for it. “Eighteen days, you’ve had us running ragged through the city searching for you. At any time you could have and should have returned, but you did not. You actively evaded us, didn’t you? We would have found you otherwise.”

“I did, sir,” Yancy admits, bowing his head.

“I’ve not had to punish an ego for running away in a very long time,” Dark muses, “The others, old and new, know better than to break the rule of living in Ego Inc. If I had my way, your punishment would suit that crime.”

Yancy shivers, forces himself to look at Dark again. The talk of punishing Yancy has calmed Dark’s aura, and his form does not waver when he next speaks.

“You vanished for eighteen days, and my plan, my desire was to keep you here in the void for eighteen days as well.”

Yancy’s eyes go huge. His breath catches in his throat. Only for the gravest offenses would he be thrown in solitary for longer than two weeks, and even that was horrible enough. Two weeks in a small room with no windows was a horrible but effective way to go mad, and the place Yancy’s in now, this awful dark void, seems much the same. Hell, maybe it’s worse. At least solitary had a wall to count cracks in, at least solitary didn’t have demonic whispers filtering in from everywhere. And after so long of being away from Ego Inc., being away from his friends, being away from Lio, as sad as the thought of him makes him, to finding out that instead of going home, he’s only halfway done with his separation?

This is hell. This is hell.

“Please,” Yancy gasps. He falls to his knees, groveling. “Please, please, don’t keep me here, d-don’t lock me away, I’ll do b-better, I w-won’t mess up again, I p-promise, I promise, please d-don’t keep me here, please, p-please–!”

But Dark is not Warden Murderslaughter. Even from the ground, Yancy can hear Dark’s snarl, vastly different from the smug, approving hum Murderslaughter would be making at Yancy’s display.

“Get up,” Dark growls, form snapping in pieces and recombining. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

Yancy scrambles to his feet. His vision is blurry with tears, but he doesn’t dare wipe them away.

“As I said, my desire was to keep you here for eighteen days,” Dark sighs, “But that is not what I’ll be doing.” His lip curls as he looks at Yancy. “You are very fortunate that you are so close to Yandere. He implored for me to change your punishment on your behalf, so I have come up with something different.” His aura calms. “The Googles are in the process of designing a tracking chip, able to transmit a single out to a thirty-mile radius. While the chip is being developed, you are forbidden from leaving the building for any reason, no matter who offers to accompany you. When it’s finished, it will be implanted into your arm. Google, and by extension I, will always know where you are. If you attempt to run again, we will know.” Dark leans toward Yancy, composed but stony, quietly angry. “Make no mistake, you will not get away so easily next time. The only reason you are not staying in the void is because of Yandere. I can promise you that if this happens again, nothing he says will stop me from punishing you far, far worse than what I originally planned. Understood?”

Yancy is stunned for a moment. A tracker in his skin? Projecting his location at all times? It’s a daunting thought, but…not as daunting as spending two and a half weeks in Dark’s void. After the disastrous time he had, Yancy can’t imagine running again. In a way, it’s a lot like Happy Trails, to have such a restriction on himself. Yancy can’t help but find it a little comforting. All of that aside, it’s not like Dark is giving him a choice in the matter.

“Yes, sir,” Yancy says, voice hardly a breath.

Dark scrutinizes him for a long moment, and then nods, seemingly satisfied.

“Good.” He straightens. “Now, we’re going home. The others are waiting.”

“The others?”

“Yandere must’ve told everyone you called.”

Oh, to see Yandere again, to see Mags, to see Chrome and Bim and Bop and Wilford and even Lio after so long! Yancy’s heart is fit to burst. The tears from his earlier panic have dried, but they’re being replaced anew at the thought of seeing his friends again.

Dark doesn’t give much time to think about it; in only a moment, the pair appear in front of Ego Inc., with no trace of the void around. Yancy jumps at the sudden transportation. Dark, though, is unfazed, and merely opens the doors and walks inside. Before following, Yancy can’t help but look back, back at the streets he lived among for the past eighteen days. He won’t miss them much.

Most of the egos are gathered in the lobby. The moment Dark enters, a voice speaks up.

“Yami, did you find–”

Yandere’s voice cuts off as he spots Yancy, and Yancy looks back at him, back at everyone there. It’s obvious they’ve all been worried, all been searching, and they’re all wearing expressions of shock quickly warming into joy.

Magnum is the first to act. He approaches Yancy as fast as his giant wood legs will let him, laughing heartily. He scoops Yancy up in a huge, warm hug, squeezing a burst of laughter from Yancy’s chest.

“Yancy, I missed ye!” Magnum explains, “We all did, of course, but I sure was hurtin’ without ya, lad.”

“I missed youse, too, ya big lug,” Yancy replies, unable to help smiling, teary-eyed.

That seems to break the spell the others are under, and they gather around Yancy as Magnum puts him down. Yandere pushes up close, so happy to see him he almost picks him up, too. The others surround him as close as they’re able, full of questions, full of concern, yet full of exuberant joy. Yancy can hardly keep up with them all. Dark remains apart, watching from the door, but Yancy barely registers. He does, however, notice one other conspicuous absence. He looks up, over the shoulders of everyone around him, and sees Lio hanging back, leaning against the wall, deliberately casual in a way that betrays how un-casual he feels. Lio feels Yancy’s gaze on him, and lifts his head to look at him.

And oh, Yancy had hoped that Lio wouldn’t look so good when he came back, that his memory had inflated Lio’s importance, that he wouldn’t look the same in the flesh. But he’s still so beautiful, even with uneven stubble that used to be cleanshaven, even with tired, red-rimmed eyes that used to be clear. But they’re still so bright, still that same brown like dark leather, and his pretty face breaks into a smile like he’s been blind his whole life before now, and Yancy is the sun, so perfect and incredible that Lio might cry at the sight. Lio doesn’t approach, seems too nervous to, but he mouths something to Yancy from across the way.

I’m glad you’re back.

Yancy feels the tears in his eyes start to spill over. After everything, he still isn’t ready for Lio to see him cry. So he buries his face in Yandere’s shoulder to hide his tears from the man he still loves.

#yancy #markiplier fanfiction #darkiplier #markiplier #fanfic #my writing #kristin says stuff #worse things #;;;w;;;

[redvoid-40]

Some of you may have noticed I’ve been posting little fanfic snippets here. Lately I’ve been re-watching Naruto because nostalgia. And despite having to finish my HxH fic or my novel I couldn’t help but start a new work. I dunno, it was just super nostalgic to see all the characters that I used to love (not you Sasuke) and I was left with a desire to write I hadn’t felt in a long time now.

I’ll be honest, I’m not quite sure where I’m going with this, but I do know it’ll be friendship and adventure-focused, with a side of GaaraxOC in later chapters (please bear in mind that by later chapters I mean LATER chapters; I won’t really touch the stuff while the character are kids). Also, I’m all for healthy friendships so there’ll be a lot of that too, specially with the girls in the show (I really feel Kishimoto could have invested more on his female characters).

Still, I think maybe someone out there might get some enjoyment out of this, so I’ll start posting my fic here in an ordered fashion. Hope you guys enjoy it! :D

Fandom: Naruto

Fanfic title: ???

Chapter 1: The New Girl

Genre: Friendship, Adventure, Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 2205

Warnings: OC is a crybaby none 

---

“Class, from today onward we’ll welcome a new student at the Academy.”

There was a wave of whispers among the children as they wondered about the new kid. Excited, confused and just a little bit anxious, the young Genin-to-be asked one another if anyone knew anything about it, heard any rumours before this sudden announcement. 

Iruka gave his students a few moments to collect themselves before clearing his throat to get their attention. It took a few moments but at last, silence came over the class.

“Please come in and introduce yourself.” Iruka called out, reaching out his hand to the side, towards the open classroom door.

The sound of soft steps came first, breaching the door’s threshold languidly. Then came the image of a little girl with light brown, wavy short hair, that framed her face with messy curls. She wore a black long-sleeved shirt and pants.

At last came the sound of her voice, and just like her eyes, it felt dead.

“My name is Osasu Shin.” The little girl said, bowing at the waist. “Please take care of me.”

The murmurs came again, this time less excited and more anxious. Iruka noticed the tension and smiled brightly at his students as he laid a comforting hand on the girl’s head.

“Why don’t you guys introduce yourselves? I’m sure Shin-kun is just as curious about you as you are about her."

The whispers died at once as the children stared at each other, wondering who'd go first - hoping someone would.

And so someone did. 

A blonde boy stood up and slammed an open palm over his desk, as a huge grin stretched on his whiskered face. The new girl flinched at the sudden noise, but Iruka and the rest of the class just sighed, seemingly used to it. 

"My name is Uzumaki Naruto! And I'm going to become Hokage, believe it!"

There was an uncomfortable silence afterwards as Shin stared at the loud boy. She didn't know what to say.

"Thanks Naruto. Next time try not to shout it though. Also don't just hit your desk like that!" Iruka said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Anyone else would like to introduce themselves?"

Again silence. 

And then-

"I'm Akimichi Chouji! Welcome! Shikamaru, say hi as well."

"This is such a bother… Hey, I'm Nara Shikamaru."

"Nice to meet you! I'm Yamanaka Ino!"

"And I'm Haruno Sakura!"

One by one, the children spoke their names and at every excited syllable that reached her ears, Shin's eyes became a bit less dull.

Iruka smiled.

---

When lunchtime came the children split in smaller groups and ran out of the classroom in a matter of seconds, all eager to wolf down their food and use the rest of their free time to play.

Shin remained in her place, staring unseeingly at her desk. As soon as the door closed behind the last of her classmates, she felt the all-too-familiar sting in her eyes that announced the coming of another bout of crying.

It had been easier to hold back with everyone around her but now that she had been left alone the task was proving to be much harder.

The little girl swallowed as her vision blurred. She rubbed at her eyes insistently, but once the tears came there was no stopping them. They streaked down the back of her hands and down her forearms. Some escaped and fell directly on her desk, leaving little dark spots all over the wood.

"Why are you crying?"

The voice startled her, as did the pair of bright blue eyes that suddenly appeared so close to her face.

Vision still blurred, Shin could only gap at the boy "I-I…"

"I know what will cheer you up!" The boy, Naruto, announced with a bright smile. "Let's go!"

Not waiting for a response, he grabbed her hand and dragged her away from her own misery.

---

"Oji-san! Two Ichiraku specials!"

"Right away!"

Shin was no longer crying, but her eyes were still a bit red and puffed. However, the owner of this little restaurant and his daughter were kind enough not to mention it as they moved around behind the bar, preparing Naruto’s order.

“This place has the best lamen in the world, believe it!” Naruto exclaimed excitedly, pulling her to sit with him at the bar. Much quieter he added: “Iruka-sensei always brings me here when I’m feeling sad.”

Shin raised her eyes to the blonde by her side and felt a lump form in the back of her throat; those baby blue eyes weren’t the bright shade she saw during the class. They had a shadow over them that spoke of a special sort of sadness that was not unlike her own - the kind which was so personal and so heartfelt it almost became part of one’s self. 

The burn in her eyes was threatening to come back.

“H-Hey! Don’t cry! I brought you here to make you feel better!"

Shin swallowed her lump and nodded her head, pressing the heels of her hands firmly against her eyes.

I can stop crying. I will stop crying.

A few moments later - once Shin had taken a hold of herself - the owner came back with two large bowls of steaming, delicious-smelling lamen.

He smiled at the children as he put the bowls in front of them and Naruto didn't waste a second before digging in with a loud 'Itadakimasu'.

Shin felt her mouth water at the smell and looked up at the man standing across the bar.

He said his name was Teuchi-san. He has such kind eyes;

"Go on." He urged with a warm smile.

Shin nodded again and reached for a pair of chopsticks.

"Itadakimasu."

---

Time, Shin found, didn't pass nearly as slowly as she thought it would today. Between Naruto's excited ramblings and Teuchi's fatherly inputs, late afternoon creeped upon her with ease, involving the streets with warm shades of orange and red.

And with it came a very angry-looking Iruka.

"Naruto! I can't believe you! Not only it's the third time you skip class this month but you also dragged Shin-kun along! On her very first day!"

Shin had the decency to blush and look down in shame. Meanwhile Naruto grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head.

"Hehe… you found us, Iruka-sensei."

There was a huge vein pulsing on the teacher's forehead. Shin feared it might actually burst.

"I'm sorry, Iruka-sensei. It's my fault really. I was-" the words caught in her throat. She didn't want anyone else to know she had been crying. "- I was down. Naruto was just cheering me up."

Iruka's eyes softened as he took in both children, as if seeing them for the first time today.

Naruto was sitting on the stool closest to him, grinning that foolish and innocent grin of his. Shin was sitting on the next stool, staring up at him with brown eyes that were nothing like the haunted gaze he had witnessed early that morning, when the Hokage had brought her to him.

These kids… They are stronger than most Shinobi could ever hope to be.

"Hmph! I'll let this one slide, but don't you try to pull this stunt again, you hear me Naruto? And don't you let this little brat get in the way of your studies, Shin-kun."

Shin nodded, but it was hard to take Iruka’s scolding to heart when he was ruffling Naruto's hair so affectionately.

"Anyway, it's going to get dark soon. Let me walk you two home." Iruka spoke before turning to the owner. "Teuchi-san how much do I owe you for these two?"

"You know that new customers get to eat on the house, Iruka." Teuchi said with a smile. "And since Naruto here is helping me expand my business, I'll treat him this time as well." 

“Ah! Thank you Oji-san!” Naruto said, jumping from his bench. “I’ll be back soon! Believe it!”

Shin bowed her head. “Thank you, Teuchi-san.”

“I hope to see you again soon, Shin-chan! Meanwhile, you be good, okay?”

The little girl was about to jump down from her bench as well, but froze at those words. With wide eyes she looked up at Teuchi, smiling down at her so kindly, so warmly, so like…

“Papa and Mama are leaving now. You be good while we’re out, okay?”

Shin’s eyes burned again, but this time the back of her hands were enough to keep the tears from streaking down her face. She sniffed and, for the first time in weeks, allowed her lips to curl up in the resemblance of a smile.

“I will!”

---

“You should smile more, Shin-chan!” Naruto spoke suddenly as they walked through the streets of Konoha.

“Hm?”

“You have a really cute smile, believe it.” The blonde explained, grinning. 

Iruka sputtered and Shin blinked at the boy, as if his words didn’t make any sense.  

“Naruto! You shouldn’t behave so familiar with a girl you just met!”

The boy’s eyes widened, as a blush crept up his neck. “I-I didn’t mean it like that! Not that you’re not cute, Shin-chan! Honestly you’re almost as cute as Sakura-chan! Ah! I’m not trying to say anything by it though! I think you’re real nice, but I- what I’m trying to say is… Ahhh! You’re my friend! And I like you better when you’re smiling. Believe it!”

An awkward silence befell the trio as the last of daylight disappeared and the street lamps lit up around them. Iruka sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hoped Shin wouldn’t take it to heart Naruto’s blabbermouth.

Shin lowered her face and turned slightly away from Naruto and Iruka as her shoulders slowly started to shake softly.

“S-Shin-chan! Are you crying? I’m sorry, I didn-”

Shin cut Naruto off, shaking one of her hands in front of herself in a dismissive gesture. It was then that Naruto and Iruka realized she wasn’t crying. 

She was laughing.

When Shin faced both again, she was smiling. But it wasn’t the little thing she had showed them back at Ichiraku; it was a full-blown grin.

“I like you too, Naruto-chan.”

And just like that, Naruto steamed into a glitch.

“Ah! I-I’m sorry!” Shin said, reaching out to support the boy’s shoulders to keep him from falling face-first to the ground. “Naruto-chan? Naruto-chan! Iruka-sensei, what did I do? Naruto-chan!”

Iruka didn’t quite believe in what he was seeing.

They are both completely clueless.

---

“So here we are!” Iruka announced with a grand gesture when they arrived at their destination.

Naruto stared at the door to his apartment, confusion clear on his face. “Ehhh? Iruka-sensei, this is my home! I thought we were going to take Shin-chan to her place first.”

Iruka smiled and pointed to the door just a few meters to the right.

Naruto didn’t quite understand the meaning.

“So, are we going to her place or not? I’m starting to get hungry again, believe it.”

Iruka sighed and shook his head.

“Naruto... Shin-kun will live next door to you as of today. Make sure to help her out whenever she needs, alright?”

“Eh?! Is that true, Shin-chan?”

Shin nodded. “Although I’m new here, if there’s anything I can help you with please let me know.”

“But isn’t this apartment a bit too small? What about your parents?”

“...”

Naruto realized his mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. The warm atmosphere from before was quickly smothered by a silence so sad it made Naruto’s ears ring with it. Shin was too kind to say anything, but the shadows that fell over her eyes and the way her lower lip trembled with the strain of holding back tears was enough condemnation to him.

Of course… A new girl who just moved in to Konoha and transferred to the Academy with no warning or explanation. Those sad eyes… She’s like me. She doesn’t have any family.

“Ah, Shin-chan....” Naruto began, staring down at his feet in shame. “I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot, believe it.”

“Shin-kun-” Iruka tried, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. “-I’m sorry. I’m sure Naruto didn’t mean it.”

Shin shook her head as she pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, trying so hard to barricade her tears.

“I’m sorry, Naruto-chan, Iruka-sensei. I know a Shinobi shouldn’t cry. I’m so pathetic…”

Despite her words, there was no hiding the sobs that caught in Shin’s throat or the shaking of her shoulders as sadness suddenly overtook her. She had been so good during the day - even felt something so close to happiness bumbling inside her again - she had almost believed she was getting better. But a few words that reminded her of her parents were enough to reduce her to a sobbing mess again. She was truly path-

“!”

Shin startled at the sudden feeling of warmth around her and raised her face from its hiding place behind her hands. She felt Naruto’s hair tickle her cheek as his hands pressed around her shoulders.

“I know it hurts. Being alone is really painful, isn’t it?” The boy whispered in her ear with a sad voice that Shin felt didn’t belong to him. “It’s okay to cry, but we’re here for you now. Believe it.”

“My poor baby. That thunderstorm was really scary wasn’t it? It’s okay now. Mama is here.”

“Hey, don’t forget about Papa! I’m here too!”

Shin swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded as her hands grabbed on the back of Naruto’s shirt. 

“Thank you, Naruto-chan.”

Iruka watched the scene with a heavy heart. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he walked to them and laid a comforting hand over each of their heads.

It was a cruel world indeed, this one that allowed children to fend for themselves.

#fanfic #fanfiction #chapter 1 #the new girl #naruto #uzumaki naruto #shin #osasu shin #oc #iruka #Umino Iruka #konoha #choji akimichi #shikamaru #nara shikamaru #ino #ino yamanaka #sakura #haruno sakura #friendship #slice of life #hurt #comfort #adventure

[pb1138]

Fictober Day 1: Ring, feat Genevieve and Isabela

Day 1 of Fictober and my prompt is 12 minutes late. Fuck me. Fluff story, Genevieve Hawke and Isabela. 

It’s busy in the marketplace. Sounds surround them, a cacophony of sources to interpret. Market vendors hawk their wares, people barter, couples talk of plans, parents yell after children, livestock cluck and moo and honk, coin purses jingle. Frankly, it’s a lot. That’s to say nothing of the smells—the smells of body odor, of powdered spices disturbed and entering the air, of fruits and meats and breads, of the livestock, of the smells that accompany city life. People bump against her nearly constantly, and more than once they open their mouths to scold her and cut themselves short, presumably when they realize their folly.

It’s difficult to maneuver, this new city. Fenris had given her very clear and precise instructions how to make her way into the town, had told her of important landmarks she would be able to recognize—the tavern that smells of refuse and is always roaring with drunks and gamblers, the rug vendor whose shrill voice shrieks higher than the others around them, the wobbly stairs that lead down into the alley that smells of chickens.

It had taken her all of half an hour to get lost. And that had been an hour ago.

With a heavy, defeated sigh, she stops and rubs her face. To her near right, she can hear a woman’s voice, pleasant and warm, a fabric merchant advertising her wares. Nev carefully makes her way towards the voice, only managing to jostle two people despite the crowds.

“Pardon me,” she calls above the din.

“—finest silks in—Oh! Hello there. How can I help you?” Nev can hear the smile in the woman’s voice.

Pulling her gauntlets off and tucking them under her arms, Nev puts a smile on her own face. “I’m afraid I need some assistance. I’m dreadfully lost.”

The woman is quiet for a short moment, and when she speaks again, it’s with that familiar tone of realization. “Of course.”

“I’m trying to get to the Siren’s Call. Could you give me directions?”

“Oh… That um. I’m afraid the Siren’s Call is on the far side of town.”

Nev sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I was afraid of that.” Isabela will be furious. “Well. No matter. Did you say you sell silks?”

“Oh! Yes! I’ve got a fine collection here. I’ve got fabrics of all types, but my silks are especially lovely.”

Nev smiles and gently reaches down to where the table should be, and her fingers meet fabrics. She runs her hand across the various bolts and feels the way the fabrics glide against her skin. She finds one that’s particularly smooth and cool to the touch. “This one. What color is it?”

The woman coos. “Oohh, an excellent choice, milady. This is one of my favorites. It’s a lovely warm, soft rosy color and sheer. If you’re interested, I have a shawl made from the same material.”

Nev nods. “Might I hold it?”

“Of course, milady.” The merchant shuffles for a moment before a lightweight, smooth fabric is placed in her hands.

Nev runs her hands along the edges of it, feeling the intricate embroidery along the edges, inspects the gentle knotting in the corners. “This feels lovely.”

“The color looks good on you.”

“Oh, it’s not for me.” The feel of Isabela’s hand in hers comes to mind, fills her with warmth. “It’s for my girlfriend. How much?”

The woman coos again. “Girlfriend, huh? A lucky woman. 20 copper.”

Nev nods and reaches into her inner pocket for her purse. “I’m the lucky one.” She chuckles and shakes her head, counting the coins out. “Could you direct me to the nearest tavern, please?”

“Oh, course. It’s a straight shot to your left, about a 10 minutes’ walk. If you reach the guy with the parrots, you’ve gone too far.”

Nev smiles and passes the coin over, tucking the scarf into her coat. “Thank you.” She and Isabela know each other well enough to know that taverns are the best place to reunite. Isabela will find her eventually.

She manages to make it a good 10 steps without attracting anybody’s attention. When she does, they’re a little too insistent for her liking. “You there, scary buff lady! Yes, you, with the white hair, you look like a woman who enjoys fine things in life!”

Nev snorts but meanders over to the sound of his voice. “And what fine things might you have?”

“Ah, even without sight, milady can surely appreciate my fine baubles!” He doesn’t even sound ashamed. “Many things, I’ve got. I’ve got many fine jewels, necklaces that would make any noblewoman the envy of you!”

Nev snorts, memories of her own stint as a noblewoman coming back to mind. “I strike you as the gaudy type, then?”

“Maker, no! My deepest apologies, milady, I mean not to offend!”

His discomfort is funny enough that she waves him off. “I’m not interested in jewelry.” She turns to leave, but his hand catches hers. Resisting the urge to pummel him, she tilts her chin up defensively. “Unhand me.”

“Apologies once more, milady, but… Did I not overhear that you’ve got a… lady love?”

Of course. Merchants, always sticking their noses into everyone else’s business. “What of it?”

“Perhaps this special lady deserves a special bauble? Many fine jewels, I have, many. I’ve got a necklace here with a jewel big as your eye and blue as the sea, or I’ve got a pair of earrings shiny as starlight.” He pauses and leans in, his voice lowered. “Or perhaps… a ring?”

“A ring?” Nev raises a brow at him.

“I’ve got quite a few, milady. This one here—” a ring is pressed into her hand, and she brings it into herself to feel the band. “Seven diamonds across the band. You feel there? Middle one is a heart, raised above the others. Band is gold.”

Nev shakes her head, moves to hand it back. “No, thank you.”

“Or this one!” Another ring in her hand. “Antivan silver! A lovely inset emerald!”

“Maker’s hairy balls, there you are!” An arm snakes about her waist, making her jump, and she passes the ring back to the merchant. Isabela sighs, hugging her close. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, pet.”

Nev chuckles, her face warming. “Sorry, love. I got turned around.”

“Ah, this is the lady love?”

Nev sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. Isabela’s hand tightens around her waist. “What of it?”

“A pair of lovely rings for two lovely ladies, perhaps with marriage on the mind?”

Nev bristles a little and frowns. “No, marriage is not on the mind.” Turning into Isabela’s warmth, she gestures over her shoulder. “Come on, Bela, let’s leave.”

“But—but—”

Nev shoots a scowl in the man’s general direction and puts her arm around Isabela’s shoulders. Isabela seems unperturbed by the interaction, already launching into a full-blown story about her day, but Nev’s mind wanders. ‘With marriage on the mind.’ Genevieve would be a liar if she said she’d never thought about asking Isabela to marry her, but she knows her hard stance against it, and though it is more difficult than she’d expected, she respects it. Isabela is a free spirit. Like the sea, she has no master, no owner, no claim to her. But still, the thought lingers. No. Stop that. Nev scolds herself her selfishness. Marriage makes no difference.

“Genevieve.” Isabela’s voice cuts through her thoughts, pulls her attention to her. “Are you listening?”

“Oh… Sorry, love, no. I was miles away. What were you saying?”

She can feel Isabela’s eyes trailing across her face. “…It’s not important. What were you thinking about?”

Ah, shit. Genevieve is good at many things, but lying is not one of them. She scrambles, reaching for something, anything she can say. With a sudden grin, she squeezes the arm around Isabela’s shoulders. “Just thinking about how to give you your present.”

“Ooh, a present? Let’s have it then.”

Nev chuckles and reaches into her coat. She had planned to wait, give it to her later that night, but oh well. Isabela coos when Nev presents the scarf to her. “The lady said it was a rosy color? I dunno. It just feels so nice, I thought you might like it.”

Isabela practically purrs, and there’s a shuffling as she steps away. When she comes back to Nev’s side, she moves Nev’s hand to her waist where the scarf has been tied. “I do indeed, my love. Thank you.”

They make their way back to the ship, carrying carefree and comfortable conversation, their hands on one another’s hips. The rest of the evening passes in easy companionship—drinking, dinner, more drinking, a night spent holding one another, with hands drifting listlessly across bodies and stolen kisses.

Nev wakes late in the day, the cabin filled with warmth. When she reaches across to pull Isabela to her, she finds the bed empty which draws a frown upon her face. Isabela never rises before her. They take it as personal challenges to see who can sleep in the longest.

“Bela?” Nev mumbles. When there is no response, she sighs and sits up. Her hair sticks out at strange angles, but she can’t be bothered to try to flatten it back down. Instead, she reaches for one of Isabela’s scarves kept tied to the headboard and wraps it deftly about her hair.

“Well, don’t you look lovely this morning.”

Nev chuckles, face warming. “Do I? I feel as though a raven has nested in my hair.”

The bed dips under Isabela’s weight as she crawls over towards Nev, and without warning, she straddles her hips. “You always look lovely, my sweet.”

“Flatterer.”

“It’s the truth. And that’s partly why I…” Isabela sighs, bringing a concerned frown to Nev’s face. “Oh, no, don’t do that. This isn’t… Piss. I hoped this would go better.”

Nev puts a hand on Isabela’s hip, the other going to her cheek, the movement easy from years of practice. “What is it?”

“I got you something.”

Her brow quirks and she tilts her head. “Oh?”

“It um… Oh. Damn it all.” Isabela takes Nev’s hand and slips something onto her finger. A ring. “Now—don’t get carried away. This isn’t—we’re not—Shit.” She sighs and starts again. “I’m not saying I’m marrying you, Hawke, but… I don’t know. Think of it as a promise? This is me. Telling you I’m always going to be here by your side. I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

Tears prick at Nev’s eyes and her heart swells in her chest. “I…” Why does her face hurt? Oh… She’s grinning. With an elated giggle, she buries her face in Isabela’s neck, her arms snaking around Isabela’s waist tightly. Isabela squeaks against it but doesn’t resist, her own hands going to Nev’s back. “Thank you,” Nev whispers.

Isabela chuckles softly, placing a kiss to Nev’s bare shoulder. “For better or worse, I love your stupid face.”

“You’re so eloquent, my love.”

They both laugh. After a moment, Isabela pulls Nev’s face from her neck and places a warm, languid kiss against her lips. Once they part, foreheads touching, Nev reaches up to brush her knuckles against Isabela’s chin. “I love you, too.”

#hawke #genevieve hawke #genevieve #nev #nev hawke #hawkeabela #hawkabela #isabela #captain isabela #isabela x hawke #isabela x fem!hawke #fem!hawke #f!hawke #blind!hawke #blind!oc #fluff #fictober #fictober day 1 #cute #becca writes

[beckzorz]

we are here ⟪nine⟫

Pairing: Bucky Barnes & OFC (platonic), Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers Warnings: Language, angst, references to sex Summary: In the age of mail-in genetic testing, Bucky Barnes discovers his family has grown bigger in the years he was absent than he thought.

9. Thanks for Nothing

⟪⟪⟪ Nov 2018 ⟫⟫⟫

“That was the best turkey I’ve ever had,” Alyssa said. Her hand was splayed across her stomach. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Proctor.”

Bucky watched her from under his eyelashes. He was sitting next to her, close enough that he could feel her radiating body heat, but he still liked to have eyes on her. Steve was on his other side, his large hand resting just above Bucky’s knee. It was grounding, a reminder that Alyssa wasn’t the only one at the table. He’d seen so little of her that he couldn’t help wanting to drink her in with every second.

And there was the nagging worry of all the things she’d told him about her future. About her forthcoming death. He didn’t believe her, not really—she was young, she was healthy… If she really was getting sick, losing her mind, he’d catch it in time to fix it. Then he could relax.

“How many times have I told you to call me Aunt Rebecca?” Rebecca chided.

“Oh, sorry.” Alyssa’s fingers twitched against her shirt. “Thank you, Aunt Rebecca.”

The words felt strange in her mouth, that much was clear. Kimberly, on Alyssa’s other side, stood with a wince and started to collect the plates along with her brother Scott. Alyssa made to get up too, but Rebecca waved her away.

“You’re our guest, Alyssa,” Rebecca said. “Jimmy, why don’t you show Alyssa my family albums? We’ve got some very cute childhood photos. Stevie doesn’t mind helping with the dishes, do you?”

“Course not, Rebecca.”

Steve winked down at Bucky as he started gathering plates.

“C’mon,” Bucky told Alyssa. He led her into the living room and browsed the bookshelves for the albums he liked.

When he turned back around, Alyssa was busy staring at the family portrait on the wall. It was from a few years back, before Bucky had returned. Rebecca in the middle, flanked by her son and daughter and their spouses, with Kimberly and Scott standing behind. Stripes the cat had been wrangled into Scott’s arms, though it was obvious the cat wasn’t thrilled.

Bucky settled against the wall and looked at Alyssa as she studied the photograph. There was something closed off in her face, a distance that made his heart twist. A distance that he well understood.

“Cute,” Alyssa remarked.

“Yeah.”

It occurred to him that he hadn’t seen much in the way of pictures of Alyssa’s family. When he’d visited in September, Alyssa had given him copies of formal portraits of his son and grandson, but she hadn’t had anything hanging in her apartment. Not like Rebecca did, that was for sure.

Then again, Alyssa wasn’t a grandmother, a matriarch. She didn’t have siblings, or children, or cousins… From what little she’d said, backed up by some very light digging on Bucky’s part, she didn’t even have any cousins, except on her mother’s side. And none of them wanted anything to do with Alyssa, not after she’d—

Well.

Still, she’d been a child once. What had she looked like then?

“Do you have pictures from when you were a kid?” he asked.

Alyssa started. “Not really. Well, maybe. I dunno. I never went through all of my gram’s boxes.” She settled on the couch, one leg tucked under her. “Show me yours,” she said.

Bucky sat beside her, their legs not quite touching even when he spread the first album across their knees. He thumbed through it quickly. “Recognize these punks?”

“Oh my god… Is that you and Steve?!” Alyssa covered her toothy grin with her hand. “Oh my god, you two were so cute!”

He chuckled. “We were somethin’, that’s for sure. I think we were about ten.”

“Sounds about right.”

Steve appeared in the kitchen doorway, large enough to block out the bright light from over the sink. “Dishes are do—is that what I think it is, Buck?” He lumbered over, delight on his chiseled face. Bucky looked between the picture and the real thing, both beautiful in their own way.

“Yeah, Rebecca’s family albums.”

“Sure, but—I remember that.” Steve crouched on Bucky’s other side and smiled up at him.

Bucky glanced over at Alyssa. She was looking between the two men with a sudden clarity. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat, but all she did was ask, “What was happening with this photo?”

“Oh, it was right after Rebecca’s eighth birthday party,” Steve said. “One of her friends tried to kiss Bucky and he was having none of it. It was hilarious.”

“Oh, come on,” Bucky snapped, but he was grinning.

“I seem to recall you kissed her a few years later, though,” Steve continued.

“Really, Steve?”

Steve squeezed Bucky’s knee and stretched to his full height. His shirt pulled tight against his chest; Bucky swallowed.

“Relax, Buck,” Steve said, eyes twinkling. He headed back to the kitchen. “I’ve steered clear of your real scandals,” he said over his shoulder.

Bucky huffed and slammed the album shut. Alyssa was quivering with suppressed laughter beside him.

“Sorry,” she gasped. “I just—I haven’t seen you like that before.”

“Like what?” he asked.

Alyssa sobered at his genuine confusion. “Teased, I guess.” She sank back into the cushions, pushing the album back at him as she moved away. “I think sometimes our story is too depressing for the real world.”

“Don’t people usually say the real world is the depressing one?”

She snorted. “Puh-lease. The real world has a lot going for it. What happened to you? That’s not the real world. That’s the stuff of nightmares.”

“You’re not a nightmare.” Bucky’s gut twisted unpleasantly. He turned to face her head-on and put a hand on her shoulder. “I know this is really fuckin’ weird, but I’m really glad you took that test.”

“Oh, I know.” Alyssa sighed and twisted a chunk of her hair in her fingers. “And I’m glad the family mystery’s been solved. But… still. The only reason I’m here, talking to you like this, is because someone did something awful to you.”

Bucky took his hand away. “I survived.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Even if I hadn’t been tortured, there still woulda been a war,” he added. “And it’s not like things are all bad. I’ve got… Steve. New friends. New family.”

“Yeah, well.” Alyssa ducked her chin and didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m glad you’re doing well.”

Before Bucky could respond, Kimberly appeared. “Time for dessert!” she said cheerfully.

Alyssa popped to her feet. “Great!” she said, but Bucky could hear the pain under her false cheer. He stood slower, giving Alyssa plenty of time to flee.

“What’s up with her?” Kimberly whispered.

“How should I know?” he shot back.

“Uh, she’s your grandkid.”

“Great-grandkid,” he corrected. “And it’s not like we’re best friends, Kimberly, we’ve barely known each other five months!” He brushed past her and back to the dining room. Everyone else but Kimberly was seated. Steve was giving him a reproving look and Alyssa was very much not looking.

Shit—she’d probably heard every damn word.

Bucky slid into his seat, stomach clenched. “Hey, listen—”

“Alyssa, would you like some pumpkin pie?” Rebecca asked.

“Sure, thank you,” Alyssa said, clear and plenty loud to cut Bucky off.

Bucky sat stiffly. He could feel Alyssa’s discomfort as clearly as his own, but he had no idea what had upset her. It was… unsettling. He tried to focus on Rebecca’s hand cutting the pie, the bone handle of the pie cutter only somewhat paler than her gnarled hands. Rebecca passed the plate to Steve, who passed it to Bucky, who held it out to Alyssa. She reached for the plate, but as her finger brushed against Bucky’s, her hand trembled.

The room trembled with it.

Scott was on his feet in an instant. The china plate slipped from Alyssa’s hold, clattered against the table, and fell clean on the floor, shattering along with the pie.

Bucky was frozen.

Steve’s hand was a vise on his arm, but Bucky could hardly feel it. He could only stare at Alyssa.

A full second passed before his gaze dropped from her ashen face to her trembling hands, and then to the broken plate on the floor.

“I—” Alyssa swallowed and swiveled her face to Rebecca. “I’m sorry—” She jumped to her feet and fled. Bucky could hear the sounds of coats rustling in the front hall, then the door opening, slamming shut.

Bucky pried Steve’s hand away and stood up so fast his chair almost hit the floor. Thank god—Steve caught it before it broke, too.

“James, what on earth?” Rebecca said, voice weak.

“She’s sick,” Bucky said, his voice as even as he could make it. “She’s sick, and I’m going to make it better.”

“Go,” Steve urged. “We’ll be fine.” He squeezed Bucky’s hand and pushed him away just as the front door shut.

In less than a breath and a half, Bucky was out the door. Alyssa spun back to face him from a few paces on, her eyes bloodshot and her hands still shaking. Bucky’s mouth set. He marched over to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Come on,” he said. “I’m taking you to get this fixed.”

“What? No!”

Alyssa shoved him away. Her strength was enough to send Bucky back a few paces; his eyes widened as he stared at her. Her face was still ashen; her hands were balled into fists at her sides. There was a sharp line between her drawn brows.

“No?” he echoed.

“You don’t fix this,” she said angrily. She hit her temple with the heel of her hand.

Bucky lurched forward—no, don’t, you’ll hurt yourself—but she bared her teeth and scampered back, stopping him in his tracks.

“Don’t—stay back,” she growled.

He stood there, helpless, his hands empty at his sides and his gut twisting. “W-why?” he croaked. He cleared his throat, tried again. “Alyssa, why won’t you let me help you? I gotta… I have to help you.”

“Haven’t you done enough?” She clutched her head. “All this is—”

She went silent, still, mouth open, eyes unfocused, and then she started to shake.

“No,” she mouthed. Her eyes snapped back to Bucky’s, and for one horrible moment he felt the sidewalk lurch beneath his feet. Then Alyssa slammed her fist against her skull and crumpled to the ground.

“Alyssa!”

Bucky dashed forward. He fell to his knees—never mind the concrete biting through his jeans—and drew her head into his lap. Her eyes were closed, lips parted. Was she breathing? He ducked his head, held his metal hand over her nose and mouth, waited.

A little cloud formed on his hand, and he choked out a sob of relief. He pulled her against him, rocking her unconscious body as he fought back tears.

He knew what she’d meant to say. He knew what had so upset her.

All this is your fault.

“Buck?” Steve leapt down Rebecca’s front stoop, one arm held out to keep Kimberly and her brother back. “What—” He cut himself off when he saw Bucky.

“What the hell?” Scott breathed. He gripped Kimberly’s arm, his eyes wide.

Steve rushed over, ordering the others to stay put. Some other doors cracked open, some curtains pulled aside, but Bucky only spared the rest of the world a glance before he hefted his great-granddaughter into his arms and clambered to his feet.

“I’m taking her upstate,” Bucky told Steve. “I can’t—” He swallowed. “I can’t just leave her like this.”

“No,” Steve agreed. He studied Bucky closely, his blue eyes bright with sad determination. “If we don’t take her now, SHIELD’s gonna come calling. And god knows what they’ll make of her.”

Bucky’s blood ran cold. He hadn’t even considered that. SHIELD had come for her before, hadn’t they? With the—what had they said? What had she said they’d said? A hyperlocal earthquake? He looked down. Beneath his feet, where Alyssa had been standing, fresh dust was settling from new cracks in the concrete.

Hyperlocal earthquake?

Sounded about right.

Bucky shifted Alyssa in his arms until her head was cushioned against his shoulder—the right shoulder, the softer one. She couldn’t feel it, but it mattered. It mattered. Steve touched his hand and led the way to the car.

All this is your fault, Bucky Barnes.

So what are you going to do about it?

#bucky barnes family fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #winter soldier fic #mcu fic #becca writes #james buchanan barnes #angst #we are here

[ua-hc7]

TRANSCRIPT: August 29, 2:12 AM

[Note: The following contains implications/references of and to a variety of abuses. Drug use and sexual content is explicitly mentioned and described.]

[Note: Official recording started midway conversation. The above is paraphrased.]

[Note: Uncensored transcript requires further authoritzation.]

.. ... @ua-hawks​ ...

[Incoming call. Hawks is still putting himself back together at home. The rustle of a jacket being thrown over something and his clumsy, erratic footsteps can be faintly heard.]

[Shichirou picks up. It's quiet on his end asides from the soft rustling of wings.]

SHICHIROU: ... ▇▇▇▇▇? Sweetheart, what's happening...

[He stifles a yawn, his voice slow and heavy with sleep.]

HAWKS: Hi,

[Hawks' voice is drained of energy, yet he's still rushing. He hasn't been able to get out of his work headspace.]

HAWKS: Sorry. Did I wake you up?

[The way his words slur becomes more obvious.]

SHICHIROU: No, no...

[More rustling, the soft sound of fabrics moving together this time. There's a soft creak of a mattress as Shichirou sits up in bed.]

SHICHIROU: Have you been drinking? You haven't answered my question...

[A door shuts. Hard.]

HAWKS: Yeah.

[He's pacing. Restless. Exhausted.]

HAWKS: What'd you say?

SHICHIROU: What is going on?

[His voice is suddenly stern, though only slightly so. Still, it's a clear change of tone, all the drowsiness in his voice suddenly gone.]

SHICHIROU: Tell me what has you so upset.

HAWKS: I don't know. I just. I had to like-I had t'arrest or-no-I had to bring a kid in, to like a hospital...

[As he explains the distress rises. He's talking before he can even find the words to say what he needs to say.]

HAWKS: I was on my way to my meeting with Dabi and he was there and I don't know why-he's a-a fuckin ua kid, you have to have heard about it,

[It's completely silent as he listens. He only interrupts by the end, his voice quiet, firm and calm.]

SHICHIROU: Hawks. You are our main source on the League at this moment. Everything we hear, we hear through you.

[He waits a moment for his words to (hopefully) cut through his panic before continuing.]

SHICHIROU: Please clarify. You've brought in a UA student? Name? And which hospital is he in, are you there now?

HAWKS: Monoma.. [A sharp, shaky breath interrupts him.] Neito. Monoma Neito...

[He does pause. Let himself calm down as much as he can. The pacing stops.]

HAWKS: Sorry... 'm sorry I just... He was so fucked up, Chirou, I can't even.. I shouldn't be doing this right now I just need to write the fucking report and-and I need to get back to my interns and..

[He barely catches a gasp as he starts crying. It's sudden, even to himself, suppressing it best he can. He doesn't want Shichirou to know how weak he's gotten.]

SHICHIROU: ...

[He waits a few moment, listening to his stifled tears. Quietly, he writes down the boy's name. Then, he presses a program to start on his phone to record the rest of the conversation, cursing himself quietly for not doing that right at the start.]

SHICHIROU: You don't need to be doing anything right now, Hawks...

[He sighs, urging patience back into himself. He wants more information on the case but it'd have to wait...]

SHICHIROU: What have I told you about taking care of yourself? That's what's most important. Just concentrate on letting it all out, please, you'll feel better... I want you to be okay.

... Do you need to come over?

HAWKS: Yeah, well-

[Unintentionally, Hawks snaps, catching himself for a second.]

HAWKS: I can't exactly do that when I'm at everyone's fucking beck and call, can I? Dabi could hit me up at like 5 am and be like ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ and I'd probably do it just cuz it's the mission.

[He let's go again.]

HAWKS: And he has! And he has. And I do it. And I feel disgusting and-fucking Monoma-▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ I...

SHICHIROU: ...

[He sighs again, a slow, careful breath.]

SHICHIROU: Was he...? Hawks, can you explain what you saw? Please?

[A pause as he frowns to himself.]

SHICHIROU: You're doing good work, love... You really are. It's all going to be so worth it when we're done, I promise you.

HAWKS: I...

[He lets out an aggravated sigh.]

HAWKS: I saw ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇. That's it. I went to where our meeting was gonna be and Monoma was ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ He was all sortsa fucked up and I pulled him aside and he-I don't know, maybe he thought I was someone else but ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ and I.. I don't know...

[Another shuddering breath, more tears.]

HAWKS: ▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇... [He forces a sad chuckle.]

SHICHIROU: ... ▇▇▇▇▇ ...

[He'll have to cut that out from the recording. The commission was well aware of Hawks' true name but he still tries to respect the boy's privacy nonetheless.]

SHICHIROU: It's okay. It's okay...

[So much to unpack and try and soothe away. Shichirou rises from the bed, starting to snap the lights of his house on.]

SHICHIROU: Please, come over. I'd like to see you. About the boy, unless he ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇-

[He pauses, shakes his head.]

SHICHIROU: Remember, Dabi is a violent criminal, Monoma's probably been abused into a mindset that makes him ▇▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇, it doesn't mean he does. It's a good thing you caught them before this could get even worse, because now we can help him, and now we can press more charges against Dabi when we finally arrest him. Does that make sense, dear?

HAWKS: ...

HAWKS: One second..

[Hawks drops his phone, wiping his face and letting another few sobs shake his body before he collects himself again and picks up again.]

HAWKS: ...

It does.

...

But I don't think I wanna move.

[Already, Shichirou is throwing open his closet so he can retrieve a jacket.]

SHICHIROU: I can come to you. Tell me where you are, please.

[He shakes his head again, muttering to himself, floorboards creaking under his feet as he strides.]

SHICHIROU: You're drunk, you shouldn't be moving much anyway... Are you on any other drugs right now?

HAWKS: I'm at my place...

[Hawks is on the floor, sitting against his bed. He feels ready to pass out. He probably will by the time Shichirou gets to him.]

HAWKS: Yeah. Dunno what. Dabi likes to give me shit... Think it wore off though.. 'm getting sober too..

[A pause and he lifts himself again, wandering to his kitchen, mumbling to himself as he opens cabinets until he finds what he wants.]

HAWKS: Fuck..

SHICHIROU: I'll bring a drug test kit.

[There's a jingle as he snatches his keys from his desk.]

SHICHIROU: Depending on what it is in your system, that's possession. That's another charge, Hawks, you're doing so well. Are you drinking water? You should be laying down...

HAWKS: Yeah, well.

[A pause-he drinks. Its just a shot of vodka.]

HAWKS: I know he's got ecstasy and opiates and shit. Dunno where he gets it. Coke. Other shit, probably. Dunno.

[Another shot.]

HAWKS: I'm fine.

SHICHIROU: Hm.

[Silence as he considers that. He slips his shoes on and throws the door open, steps loud against the pavement outside.]

SHICHIROU: Try and find out his sources. Drug crime has been on the rise again.

...

Go lie down. I'm not telling you again.

HAWKS: Mmm...

[The phones microphone is covered momentarily, uncovered once Hawks has set down the shot glass again.]

HAWKS: Fine.

[He finds his way to the couch, sinking down into it and almost relaxing.]

SHICHIROU: Thank you.

[A variety of sounds as Shichirou unlocks his car and gets inside, the usual shuffle of trying to adjust his wings comfortably continuing for a few long moments.]

SHICHIROU: I'll be there in 20 minutes. Can you keep me on the line, please? You don't have to keep talking much if you don't feel up to it anymore.

HAWKS: What, you worried I'll die between now and then..

[Hawks huffs out like he's trying to laugh, listening to the faint sound of his wings. It'd be better if he was there.]

HAWKS: I'll be fine...

[Hands pat against his pants and shirt, trying to find his cigarettes and a lighter, unsuccessful with both.]

SHICHIROU: Yes. I am worried.

[Shichirou falls quiet. He starts the car, pulling out into the road. For a long moment, the only sound from his end is the hum of the engine.]

SHICHIROU: ▇▇▇▇▇, you're allowed to take breaks sometimes. I hope you know that.

HAWKS: ...

[Silence falls on his end. He listens to Shichirou's car, his soothing voice.]

HAWKS: Not really.

[Shichirou chuckles. It's a sad sound.]

SHICHIROU: ...

SHICHIROU: I care about you. You know that at least, yes?

HAWKS: I do.

[More silence.]

HAWKS: I hate this.

HAWKS: ...

HAWKS: I hate... it.

SHICHIROU: I know. ... I'm sorry.

HAWKS: I can't take a break... And I don't even know when I'll be able to. IF I'll be able to. Fuck, I might DIE before this ends, I...

[A sharp gasp and he's crying again, swearing to himself.]

HAWKS: I'm sorry...

SHICHIROU: ...

[Silence as he listens to him start to cry again.]

SHICHIROU: ... Do I need to take you off this case?

[He says it as gently as he can manage.]

[That sobers Hawks' thoughts for a moment, somewhat.]

HAWKS: No...

[He breathes the word out, wiping his face and forcing himself back together.]

HAWKS: No. No, I'm the best fit for it and we're already this far and... No.

HAWKS: ...

HAWKS: 'm just drunk and high and shit don't... Just. Just ignore me, alright...

SHICHIROU: I have no intentions of ever ignoring you, love.

[Another soft sigh.]

SHICHIROU: I'll keep that in mind, however. No need for any rash actions, I'll keep quiet... I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me, ▇▇▇▇▇.

[He makes a pained sound, but nods.]

HAWKS: Still don't love that you call me that...

SHICHIROU: Sorry, sorry... Habit.

[A few seconds of silence, then:]

SHICHIROU: Do you have food at home? I can pick something up for you if you'd like. You should eat something small at least, it'll help absorb the drugs in your system.

HAWKS: It's fine. 's whatever....

Nah, I don't have much here... nothin I want, at least... Just.. pick up whatever, I'll eat it...

...

▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇.

[Shichirou chuckles a little, fond.]

SHICHIROU:  ▇ ▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇, too.

HAWKS: Are you gonna be here soon...

SHICHIROU: Few more minutes...

HAWKS: Good... okay.. thank you.

SHICHIROU: Of course.

HAWKS: ▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ ...

SHICHIROU: ▇ ▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇, too.

I'm almost at the door.

[A few more seconds of silence and Hawks hangs up.]

#shichirou.log #administration.arc #nurturance.arc

[gwenbrightly]

Long Nights, Long Roads Ahead

Cross posted from ffnet. Jumping on the angst bandwagon here with the aftermath of Episode 97 for some of our dear ninja. Enjoy.

The kitchen of the Bounty was dark, empty, as the figure who'd been wandering the decks aimlessly for over half an hour slipped quietly inside. Jay was having one of those nights. The nights where he couldn't shake the horrific memories of past events from his head, no matter how hard he tried. Where his usually endless optimism wasn't enough. Thus, trying to sleep was pointless. Today had been one of the roughest days they'd faced in months. Not that he was keeping track. Though, he might as well have been. And it probably wasn't going to get better anytime soon; what with the Oni being so dedicated to ruining everything they held dear. Seeing family ripped away… fall away… like that had been… Devastating to say the least. And he hadn't been able to do a thing… Only watched as… Which was why he was currently refusing to even think about going to bed. Why? Why could they never seem to catch a break? When would it be someone else's turn to suffer? The ninja of lightning fumbled for the light switch, feeling the desperate urge to do something to keep the shadows at bay. A slight flicker brought some small amount of warmth to the desolate room. There hadn't been much time to admire the workmanship of whoever had been responsible for rebuilding their beloved flying ship, but a flood of nostalgia struck Jay as he glanced around. They'd made so many memories here. Shared so much. Become family. Unbreakable. Well, almost. He wasn't so sure anymore. It was going to take a long time for any of them to feel even remotely okay again. A really, really long time… Tomorrow,there would be plenty to keep him busy; Surely he could convince Kai to let him help in the forge, once they'd arrived back at the monastery… But for now, maybe… Food might help? If anyone had bothered to stock their supplies sufficiently (everything had happened so fast; they hadn't even been able to dine together before everything went south. Just one simple meal – that's all he'd have asked for). He wasn't really hungry, but he needed a distraction, so, with a sigh, he began exploring the various cupboards that framed the wall. Plenty of rice, canned goods, miscellaneous spices, and a few unidentifiable jars. Nothing appetizing. The fridge, then? It seemed as good a place to check as any. Jay pulled it open, shivering as a blast of cold air hit him. And immediately regretted it. Because someone had very well-meaningly left them a present – a ginormous, oozing with thick layers of chocolatey frosting, cake. Cole's… Cole's favorite. It was too much for him. Suddenly, his face was damp, tears flowed freely. Heck, he'd thought he was done crying… apparently his tear ducts were still functioning after all… Quickly forcing the refrigerator shut again, the ninja of lightning sank onto the nearest of the benches surrounding the table. The blue ninja buried his face in his hands, overwhelmed by the wrongness of it all. He missed Cole. Wanted him back more than anything… But he knew no amount of wishing could fix things now. Not that he'd even want to wish for real. He'd already learned his lesson about such things. It never worked out the way they say it will in all those fairytales with the happy endings… He stayed like that for what felt like hours, no longer having the energy to fight through the pain. It wasn't like anyone was going to see him like this, anyway… Except for whoever had just sat down next to him…

"Hey…" His girlfriend breathed. Jay removed his face from his hands. She hit her lip, seeing his tear stained face.

"H-hey… So… You too?" She looked like a disaster – ponytail even messier than usual, and very, very obviously puffy eyes. Nya nodded.

"I… Yeah." They regarded each other, silently, as if wondering how many sleepless nights there'd be to come. But they had each other, at least. Neither was alone in their sorrow this time.

"C'mere, you…" He said, finally. The former samurai gratefully scooted closer. Wrapping his arms around her, the master of lightning brushed a strand of dark hair from her face and kissed her cheek.

"Gosh, this… this is gonna be rough, isn't it...?"

"Dunno how…" Nya's voice cracked. Jay's grip tightened.

"Me neither… Look… I-I wish… If I could… I'd totally build a blanket fort with you right now, if it'd make you feel better…"

"N-no… S'okay… Gayle and her crew need the extra blankets more than we do…" She replied shakily.

"You're probably right…" He admitted sadly. Which was a shame, really, because he knew how much it helped her when she was feeling down. And he could've used the comfort, too.

"I-I wanted to tell you – I rewired the thruster mechanism…" The girl told him awkwardly, "There shouldn't anymore… Problems with…"

"I… What happened? It's not your fault…" He reminded her, cupping her cheek with one hand. She sighed wearily.

"That's what everyone keeps saying… And believe me, I'm trying to listen. But… I-I couldn't take any more chances… Not after… I could've stopped it…. He was your best friend and now-" Now there were tears running down her face, too. Jay did his best to brush them away.

"Oh, Nya, sweetheart… I know… I just… I-I hate seeing you like this… So… So broken…" She choked on a sob, burying her face in his shoulder, but he could still make out her words.

"I'm so tired of losing people…" The master of lightning rubbed her back, trying not to start crying again himself.

"Me too… It really, truly sucks… And I miss him, so, so much… There's a part of me that can't help but feel like I should've been..." His voice cracked and he shuddered, "But we gotta… we gotta stay strong… it's what he'd want… I'm here with you. For as long as you need… I promised we'd get through times like this together. A long time ago, 'member?"

"It's so hard…" A nearby floorboard creaked.

"Oh… Uh… I-I didn't realize the kitchen was such a popular place right now…" Lloyd whispered, looking every but as distraught as they did.

"I'll just…" He turned to leave, but Nya stopped him.

"No. No… Please stay… You don't hafta…"

"A-are you sure? I don't wanna interrupt…" The blond protested.

"Lloyd, it's your home too… And honestly, right now, you can just join the insomniacs club… Probably better if none of us are in our own right now…" Jay told him.

"O-okay… I was gonna start some tea… You guys want any?" The green ninja asked, edging towards the table.

"Tea would be good…" The master of water mumbled into her boyfriend's shirt. Setting a pot on the stove, Lloyd joined them at the table.

"Have you two even tried to sleep tonight?" He inquired worriedly. Nya snorted wetly.

"Like you fared any better…"

"Touché…"

"H-how are you holding up? You know, if you don't mind me asking?" Jay commented, still clinging to Nya, but debating whether or not to forcibly drag his brother into a hug.

"Not… Not great… Finding out about… It was like…"

"Like that night on the boat… after the colossus…" The master of water finished for him, knowing exactly what the green ninja was feeling.

"Pretty much… It was completely awful…" She reached out a hand and pulled him closer. Family. Family was important now more than ever.

"We're a mess, aren't we?"

"Everyone is… Well. Maybe not my father…" Lloyd stated bitterly. Jay put a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, your father's a jerk, so he doesn't count… Did you see how mad Zane got? I don't think I've ever seen him that furious…" Nya frowned at him through drying tears. The green ninja shrugged it off.

"He's not lying… Zane nearly lost it… And so did I… I-I thought maybe… But the way he was acting earlier? I dunno anymore…"

"I'm sorry... I know how hard it is for you. To have him here…to…" She informed him. The blond leaned against his companions, silent until the faint sound of boiling water caught his attention. He poured them each a steaming cup of tea.

"At least I have you guys to keep me company while I drown my sorrows…"

"Hey, we're all in this together, green bean…" His sister assured him, looking a little perkier thanks to the beverage.

"In that case… What are the chances that you guys'll help me build a fort, or something? I know we've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow, with forging the new weapons and all, but I'd kinda… rather not risk anymore nightmares…" The green ninja begged, looking far too young all of a sudden. Nya and Jay glanced at each other.

"We-ell… We thought about it… But we didn't want to deprive our guests of…" The master of lightning said after a moment.

"Oh. Well. That's not really a problem, see? Cause someone must've found out about those super fuzzy blankets I collect and gifted some to us… there's a whole stash of them in the storage room…" Lloyd assured them. The raven haired girl raised an eyebrow.

"And you didn't think maybe you should've mentioned this earlier?"

"C'mon guys… please? I could really use a distraction right now… and I know you could, too…"

"Okay. Yeah, we're doing this." Nya decided. Jay gave a weak smile in agreement. Off they went, in search of materials. The living room was off limits, of course, as that was where the rescued civilians were currently being holed up. So, they decided they might as well just officially claim the kitchen for now. The tent like structure they manufactured took up at least half of the room, blankets hanging loosely from the table and counters. Lloyd also managed to find a few extra cushions they'd somehow missed in the scramble to locate extra bedding earlier in the day.

As it turned out, the rest if their makeshift family wasn't having any better luck with sleeping than they were; it wasn't long before two exhausted nindroids and a fire ninja with serious bedhead (wrapped so tightly in a blanket that he was barely recognizable as human) showed up.

"Figured we'd find you here…" Kai commented drowsily.

"Mind if we join you?" Pixal asked quietly.

"Not at all… Please, just… Stay… All of us… Together…" Nya answered for the others.

"Thank you." Zane told them, relief written on his face. They weren't going to get much rest, but with each other to lean on, they could cope. And that was what they really needed, because tomorrow would be filled with its own problems and obstacles to overcome, but their bond would hold, not matter how many times it was tested.

#ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #fanfiction writing #moto #ns10 #march of the oni #ninjago season 10 #the fall #jay #nya #lloyd #jaya #blanket forts #myfics #these poor cinnamon roles are suffering and they really need to catch a break #don't tell me otherwise #anyone wanna sue ninjago for emotional damages?

[libraryscarf]

Payback

“Come on. There has to be one person here you wouldn’t mind hanging out with.” Hiyori found herself scanning the milling people for someone tall, with unkempt dark hair, or for anyone in gym clothes, but no one stood out. She told herself the vicious knot in her gut was from excitement, or nerves, or even the quick-acting alcohol in the punch. But it was definitely not disappointment. Definitely, definitely not.

(content warnings for this chapter: sexual harassment; attempted sexual assault)

Chapter 5: The Party ( ao3 / ff.net )

Hiyori, lured from her studies into the living room by the sound of precariously clinking glassware, found Ami removing her collection of comically undersized, decorative vases from the mantelpiece. She was gently folding them in bubble wrap and storing them in boxes filled to the brim with packing peanuts.

“Are you moving out?” was Hiyori’s immediate, panicked question. Ami gave her a look of gentle disappointment.

“Of course not, moron. I’m just protecting my valuables from—” she waved in the general direction of the kitchen, where Yama’s voice wafted to them as she talked rapidly on the phone. “—That.”

Hiyori listened, apprehensive. After a few seconds of eavesdropping, she realized Yama was on the phone with her boyfriend, Abe. She was delivering a volley of instructions to him:

“—so make sure to bring all your frat bros or homies or whatever you call yourselves, because this has to get wild—”

Hiyori looked back at Ami, her eyes round with fear.

“What…what is she talking about?”

Ami shrugged, returning to her vases. “A party, sounds like.”

“When?”

“Dunno. Soon.”

“But why?”

Ami gave her another slightly motherly look of disapproval, and Hiyori immediately experienced the horrifying sensation of having digested her own lungs.

“Me?!”

Ami turned back to the vases and packing peanuts. “You can’t have a birthday and not expect Yama to do something expensive and ridiculous.”

Hiyori groaned, pressing both index fingers against her temples. “But my mom already did something expensive and ridiculous for my birthday. I don’t need this. I don’t want this. I hate this.”

Ami placed the last vase in the box and sealed it shut with an efficient flick of the tape dispenser.

“It might not be so bad,” she said demurely.

“It’s a party,” Hiyori hissed. “A Yama party.”

At that moment, Yama bounced into the room, radiant with energy and the prospect of dozens of overboozed, sweaty coeds descending on their living space within forty-eight hours.

“I heard my name?”

“Hiyori was just telling me how excited she is about the party you’re planning.”

Ami’s betrayal cut deep, but she seemed oblivious to the pained glance Hiyori gave her.

Yama barreled full steam ahead. “One of Abe’s friends is trying to make it as a DJ, so he’s bringing everything he needs to set up tomorrow morning—”

“Tomorrow?!” Hiyori screeched.

“Relax, girl, you don’t have to worry about a thing. Just…maybe lock your bedroom door before things get started. You don’t want to find anything—anyone—uh…unexpected, in there.”

Ami grimaced in distaste. Hiyori didn’t know whether to sit down on the floor and curl up in the fetal position, or run to her bedroom and dive under the covers to hide, shivering, until this ordeal passed.

“How many people?” she whispered, frightened to hear what the answer might be.

Yama began ticking off on her fingers: “It depends on how many of the frat guys actually show up…plus the volleyball team…plus the track team…and Abe said some guys from UOT were interested…”

At this point Hiyori did, in fact, sink to the floor. Her bangs stuck to her clammy forehead. She felt slightly sick. Yama stopped talking and crouched beside her, eyebrows knitting in concern.

“You okay?”

Hiyori peered at her accusingly from under her sweaty hair.

“You invited four hundred people over for my birthday.”

Yama shook her head quickly, her ponytail snapping against her cheeks.

“No, no. Seventy-five, max. Not everyone’s gonna show up, you know.”

Hiyori dragged both hands down her face, pulling her cheeks tight against the bones underneath.

“But whyyy?” she whined. “You know my family throws a fancy dinner for my birthday every year. And you know how much I hate those. Why would you add another layer to what is already a hellish experience for me?”

Yama poked Hiyori’s gaunt cheeks playfully.

“Because a fancy dinner party is nothing like a college party. You need to cut loose, Hiyo. Have fun. Stick your tongue down a stranger’s throat. Dance on a table. Barf on someone’s shoes.”

Hiyori gave a shudder, slapping Yama’s hands away from her face. “No. No thank you.”

Yama straightened up and fixed her ponytail. Just like that, she was all business.

“Well, too late now. The plan is in motion. So prepare yourself for some serious fun, whether you like it or not.”

Hiyori, desperate for an out, looked to her other friend for support. But instead of providing assistance, Ami said:

“Hey, you should invite that guy you’ve been seeing. What’s-his-pizza-name.”

Hiyori’s neck gave a sharp, fatal-sounding snap as she jerked upright.

“Yato,” she said in quiet terror.

Yama inhaled quickly. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “I knew I was forgetting someone! Hiyori, do you want to invite him yourself, or should I leave a note on their mailbox or…?”

She trailed off. Hiyori had scrambled to her feet and was already fleeing to the front door. “I’ll handle it!” she shouted.

The door slammed behind her, and the house shivered. After a beat of silence, her two friends exchanged a lengthy, meaningful glance.

Ami held her hand out, palm-up. Yama, with a sigh of regret, fished twenty dollars out of her pocket and slapped it into Ami’s outstretched palm.

: : :

“You’re going, right?”

Yato upended an almost-empty bag of Doritos into his open mouth, pouring the residual crumbs straight down his throat. He wiped the flecks of chip dust off his lips before answering Yukine.

“Of course I’m going. It’s free food.”

Yukine’s lip curled. “Yeah. I should have figured.”

“You should come,” Yato suggested, tossing the bag aside and falling backwards onto the couch, hands propped behind his head. Yukine sat down next to the coffee table and swept a few escaped Dorito crumbs into his palm.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit irresponsible of you to take your underage roommate to a college party?”

Yato shrugged. “I just thought it might be nice for you to have a life outside of school, studying, and eating my food.”

Yukine bristled at this implication, especially considering the circumstances under which it was uttered. He flung the Dorito crumbs at Yato’s face, which were received with impenetrable nonchalance.

“For your information, asshole, I have plans tomorrow night, which don’t involve your stupid frat party or your stupid fake relationship.”

Yato sat up, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Plans? With whom?”

Yukine colored. “Nobody important.”

“…A girl?”

“No.”

“A boy?”

The blush ripened on Yukine’s cheeks, spreading nearly up to the tips of his ears.

“It’s none of your business,” he grumbled.

Yato smirked at him for one more second, then collapsed backwards on the couch again.

“Well, have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Yukine hauled himself up from the floor, conspicuously brushing his hands off as he left the room. He didn’t bother with a response. The list of things Yato wouldn’t do, especially when money was involved, was alarmingly short.

Once his roommate left, Yato closed his eyes.

The first image his mind brought to him was, unshockingly, Hiyori.

Yato should have been used to it by now—how her face occupied the inside of his eyelids now more than ever. Whenever she was near him he was distracted by something subtle about her, like the way her hands played with the collar of her shirt when she was talking, or the ribbon-silk strands of hair that escaped from her ponytail and clung to her neck, or the little hiccup that escaped every time she tried to stop herself from laughing. The more time he spent with her: talking to her, thinking about her, feeling her slowly, like perfume, creep into the silences around him, the more he came to understand that this job was—mentally, emotionally, and physically—against his best interests.

Because he was more in love with Hiyori Iki than ever. And it was worse now, because she had become his friend.

“There’s going to be a lot of people there,” she said, her brow furrowing in apprehension.

She had of course visited to ask if he could come to the party, because now that they were fully inhabiting the fiction of their relationship, there was no way he couldn’t come.

“That’s okay.” He flashed her a grin. “I’m good with people.”

Hiyori gave him a doubtful look, and he held up a finger.

“Let’s not forget, I talked about calligraphy with your mom for almost twenty minutes.”

She nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Yeah…I guess you’ll be okay.”

She straightened her spine, then reached up to rub the back of her neck. She blew a long breath out of her nose. Yato was nearly overcome with the intense and completely unacceptable urge to offer her a shoulder massage.

“Everyone’s going to be drunk and dancing anyway, so it’s not like we’ll be under close examination,” she reasoned, oblivious to his internal conflict. “At least, we shouldn’t be.”

“Who’s coming?” he asked, desperate to shift the topic and draw his attention away from the brush of her shoulder against his as they sat on the couch.

“Whoever Yama’s invited. I try not to ask questions.”

“But isn’t this your party?”

Hiyori snorted. “She’s using my birthday as an excuse to throw a rager. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

“Well…if it’s for your birthday, shouldn’t you get to at least invite a few of the people you want to be there?”

She opened her mouth, closed it again, and turned very red. Yato, who still couldn’t allow himself to look at her, didn’t notice her sudden color change.

“I mean—in theory—” she stuttered out. Taking a moment to gather her composure, she continued: “I know I give her a hard time about it, but Yama wouldn’t invite anyone I couldn’t stand. I do trust her judgment on that.”

Hiyori paused. “If…well, if you wanted to invite anyone, I’m sure it would be fine,” she said. “Of course, Yukine and Kazuma are welcome to come.”

Yukine, who had been blatantly and unashamedly eavesdropping on the entire conversation from the hallway, dropped a pencil at the sound of his own name. The clatter as it fell to the floor sent him scurrying back to his room like a startled cat. From the kitchen, Yato and Hiyori both heard Kazuma humming along to “Toxic” as he microwaved Cup Noodles to fortify himself for his sixteenth straight hour of online chess.

“Yes,” Yato said lifelessly. “They are both party animals.”

: : :

Someone was hammering on Hiyori’s door.

“Are you comin’?” Yama demanded through the keyhole. “Or are you jus’ gonna stay in there and suck?!”

Hiyori grimaced. She had been procrastinating for twenty minutes already, and there was a very real chance Yama might bash down her bedroom door and yank her downstairs by force. After mentally double-checking that all the valuables in her room were safely pushed under the bed or into drawers, she pulled her fingers against her ponytail, loosening the tie and letting hair fall around her shoulders. It was the only effort she made to appear more festive. There was little, after all, that this party held for her.

Yama pounded on the door again, but the sound was almost drowned out by the music thumping through the floorboards, pulsing against the soles of Hiyori’s feet. Abe’s friend had brought his own massive speakers, and she felt every throb of the powerful bass in her stomach.

“Coming!” Hiyori called back. There was no response. Apparently, Yama had already abandoned her efforts.

As soon as Hiyori opened the door, the noise hit her like a wall of concrete. The bass pumped wildly, layered under a jumpy electropop remix of some radio hit. Almost as soon as she set foot outside her bedroom door, Hiyori had to edge her way past a couple violently making out against the wall.

“‘Scuse me,” she muttered, squeezing around them to head for the stairs.

As she slipped by, Hiyori saw that Yama was one-half of the embracing couple. Well, that certainly explained her silence. It was too dim to see much in the hallway, so Hiyori could only hope that the other participant was her boyfriend.

She made her way to the top of the stairs, hoping desperately that Ami was somewhere nearby to provide a safe haven. However, as Hiyori peered down onto the first floor, she had a hard time seeing much of anything. The lights were low, and it was hard to read anyone’s features from that distance and angle. There was a hum of voices and laughter beneath the music.

Then, something shone among the moving bodies. A long, bright swish of gold moved up the dark stairs toward her. “Hiyori!” said a girl’s voice, and suddenly Hiyori was looking at a familiar—and extremely beautiful—face.

Even though she stood two steps below her on the stairs, Viina still came exactly to Hiyori’s height. She held two plastic cups in front of her, and before she could think to respond, Hiyori found herself accepting one of them.

“Hi,” she said in bewilderment.

“I didn’t know it was your birthday! I felt so bad that I didn’t say anything in lab yesterday. I would have at least done the worksheet for you.”

Viina’s wide, genuine smile sent a rush of warmth through Hiyori’s chest. She answered with a grin of her own.

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t really want to mention it to anyone, but…well…you see how well that worked out.” She made a wide, circular gesture with the hand holding the drink. Viina gave a throaty laugh.

“I did have a feeling this probably wasn’t something you planned.”

Hiyori grimaced, and took a sip of the drink in her hand. It was some sort of punchy cocktail: heavy on the pineapple and light on the liquor. It was really good.

“Is it…safe, down there?” she asked hesitantly. Viina’s eyes darted across her face, then softened in understanding.

“Yes,” she said frankly, and Hiyori sighed in relief.

Viina’s lips twitched. “It’s mostly just loud. I think your DJ is really excited to use that equipment.”

Hiyori squinted toward the corner of the room—the area from which the punishing noise emanated. Through the crowd and the low light, she was just able to make out a tiny figure next to the sound equipment, bobbing excitedly along to the raucous beat.

“Well, at least someone’s having fun,” she said. Viina snorted, then took Hiyori by the elbow, drawing her down the stairs. To Hiyori’s look of questioning surprise, she said playfully:

“Come on. There has to be one person here you wouldn’t mind hanging out with.”

At that, Hiyori found herself scanning the milling people for someone tall, with unkempt dark hair, or for anyone in gym clothes, but no one stood out.

She told herself the vicious knot in her gut was from excitement, or nerves, or even the quick-acting alcohol in the punch. But it was definitely not disappointment. Definitely, definitely not.

She allowed Viina to pull her down the stairs and into the crowd of people, some of whom were no longer faceless. Hiyori caught a glimpse of Ami, who had sequestered herself in the middle of a group of bespectacled undergraduates passionately discussing particle physics over the punch bowl. They passed through the center of the living room, which functioned as a dance floor, where she was shocked to see Ebisu—the star student from last quarter’s economics class—apparently having a dance-off with Takemikazuchi, whom she had only seen a few times in passing, and who always gave the impression of having just gotten away with first-degree murder.

Hiyori was being steered by her lab partner toward a small circle of other girls, none of whom she recognized. They were all similar to Viina in appearance, though none of them were quite so tall, slender, or unbearably gorgeous. Hiyori felt herself shrinking and becoming more average-looking by comparison.

“These are some teammates of mine,” Viina said as the girls turned to look at them. “Kinuha, Tsuyu, and Mayu.”

Hiyori nodded and smiled at each of them, desperately trying to remember what team Viina had said she was on, and whether she would be able to fake her way through a conversation about any sport on the planet.

“H-hi,” she said, her voice lost beneath the wallops of the bass.

The four took stock of her discomfort, and a look of mutual agreement passed between them. With preternatural speed, Hiyori found herself tucked into a safe corner of the room with a fresh drink in her hand and chatting happily with Mayu, who possessed a cornucopia of side-splitting anecdotes. A few minutes into her story about a summer babysitting job, a wandering herd of wild goats, several modest bribes, and a gallon of antifreeze, laughter had driven the anxiety straight from Hiyori’s mind.

She stayed there for a long while, protected from the rest of the party, and only occasionally sinking into brief thoughts of who had not yet arrived.

: : :

Yato was hours late to the party because of only one reason, and that reason was currently pressing his forehead against the window of Hiyori’s house, cupping his hands around his eyes in order to see better.

“Do you think she’s here?” he whispered.

Yato yanked Kazuma back by the collar before someone inside the house could witness his behavior.

“If we go in, maybe you can find her,” he said, trying to mask his rising irritation.

Kazuma looked so stricken at the thought of actually meeting Viina in a casual environment that Yato took pity on him. He took his roommate by the shoulders, giving him a vigorous shake.

“Listen, man. It’ll be fine. Just pretend you’re talking about chemistry or something.”

At the word “chemistry,” Kazuma’s nostrils flared. The look on his face suggested that he was a hair’s breadth from darting into oncoming traffic.

“I don’t know if I can talk to her about…normal things,” he confessed, his voice weak with terror.

Yato let go of his shoulders after a final encouraging shake. “Just ask her to dance. Then you don’t have to talk.”

And he walked inside, leaving Kazuma standing on the welcome mat, looking like a stake had been driven through his heart.

As soon as he was inside, Yato felt the bass pounding in his teeth. The house was full of people he didn’t know, talking to each other, drinking out of plastic cups, laughing with loud, liquor-soaked voices. A claustrophobic crush of people in the next room over suggested that was where dancing might be happening. He scanned the room, hoping to find Hiyori somewhere close. At the very least, he could say hi, put in an obligatory appearance as her partner, and leave before things got hairy.

Yato scooted along the wall, making progress toward the room with the loudest music and the most people. As soon as he eased himself through the door, his eyes fell on the tiny figure bouncing between the enormous speakers in the corner of the room. It was only when he saw the shock of pink curls that his eyes widened with recognition.

As though sensing his presence, Kofuku caught Yato’s gaze. She shrieked, flinging herself through the crowd to crash into his arms.

“Yato!?” she wailed. “I missed yoooouuuu!”

Yato squeezed her back for the barest of seconds, then pushed her off him, holding her at arm’s length. A few people had looked up at the outburst, but their attention was quickly diverted.

Yato took hold of Kofuku’s elbow, pulling her toward the edge of the room and out of the speakers’ blast zone.

“What is this?” With a broad sweep of his arm he encompassed the speakers, mixer, and the party in general. His incredulous question had no dampening effect on Kofuku’s manic enthusiasm.

“I got a job! I got paid $6.50 to be the DJ for this party!”

Yato stared at her, unable to process any part of that statement.

“Do you even know how?”

Kofuku nodded vigorously. “Yep. The guy who paid me showed me the ‘ON’ button and the volume.”

“And he paid you $6.50?”

“Yep!”

Yato didn’t have it in his heart to tell Kofuku that a stranger had given her his pocket change, planted her behind the mixer, and turned on a playlist.

“Hey! Daikoku’s here too!” Kofuku wheeled around, reached into the crowd, and hauled her boyfriend out of nowhere. “Daikoku, look who showed up!” she crowed.

Daikoku, who stood head and shoulders above the rest of the people around them and looked, as usual, more like a hitman than a small business owner, gave Yato a curt nod.

“Hey man,” he grunted.

Yato returned the nod and the grunt, praying to whoever was listening that Daikoku would refrain from mentioning their encounter at the shop. Kofuku would pounce on that like a tiger kitten on a freshly killed gazelle. He cast around for something to talk about.

“Is there food anywhere here?” he asked. Kofuku shrugged. Daikoku pointed toward an open door on their right. Two girls walked through, carrying plastic cups in each hand.

“Not sure about food, but it looks like the drinks are in there.”

The three of them made their way to the door, which opened into a kitchen/dining area that was slightly quieter and better lit than the room they had just left. Even with the crowd, the noise, and the mess, the interior of the house managed to appear luxurious and wealthy. Yato couldn’t help mentally tallying the differences between Hiyori’s living situation and his own, and felt his insides sink.

“Chips!” Kofuku cried, and stuffed half the contents of the bag into her face. She was already vacuuming up the crumbs hiding in the crinkles of the bag by the time Yato and Daikoku had poured themselves drinks.

“You are like a little baby,” Yato said. “Watch this.”

He opened a second bag without looking at the label, tipped back his head, and poured two thirds of it down his throat. After a few seconds of crunching, he gagged, water leaking out of his eyes. He choked again, and a little puff of red powder escaped his mouth. Tears streamed down his face as he swiped at his lips in agony. Kofuku erupted in insane giggles and pointed at the “LAVA HOT GHOST CHILI™” flavor brand stamped broadly across the front of the chip bag.

Daikoku patted Yato on the back as his throat exploded in flames, and a shower of half-chewed Lava Hot Ghost Chili™ chips sprayed onto the floor.

“Gross, dude,” Daikoku said sympathetically.

: : :

The pineapple punch drink was stronger than it tasted. A lovely, bubbling contentment had spread through Hiyori’s limbs as she downed the rest of her cup. She was having such a nice time that she almost managed to forget the one person she invited hadn’t yet arrived.

Almost.

As though she had telepathic access to Hiyori’s thoughts, Yama demanded: “Isn’t your boyyyfrieeend coming?”

She dragged the vowels out for several miles, slinging a strangulating arm around Hiyori’s neck and collapsing against her shoulder. Hiyori swatted at her drunk friend’s face harder than was necessary, her comment having struck a nerve.

“Shut up,” she said. “He’s probably here. Somewhere.”

“Aren’t you gonna go fiiiiind him?”

“No.” Hiyori settled onto the arm of the chair where she was perched, on the outskirts of a conversation between Tsuyu and Viina. “I’m comfy here.”

Yama shrugged. Despite the haze of alcohol, her eyes were narrow and glinting with mischief. “Suit yourself,” she crooned.

Hiyori, irked, suddenly stood up. The floor under her dipped like the deck of a ship, but she caught herself before pitching forward.

“I want another drink,” she announced to the room at large, refusing to look at Yama, who sank, giggling, into her abandoned seat.

Hiyori marched crookedly over to the table with the enormous punch bowl, which was near the door to the kitchen. As she pushed blindly through the crowd, she knocked into someone, hard. The empty plastic cup flew out of her grip, but a hand shot from nowhere to catch it.

“This yours?” said a voice from somewhere slightly above her head. Hiyori blinked wildly as she looked up, wishing the floor would stop rocking.

Standing in front of her and holding her cup, she saw the very last person she wanted to run into at this party.

“Oh god,” she groaned. “Why are you here?”

Fujisaki frowned. “That’s…not exactly the hospitable reception I hoped for. I received an invitation, of course.”

“I doubt that,” Hiyori snapped. She took a step away, trying to strategize a safe exit.

“I really don’t feel like socializing at the moment, so if you’ll just excuse me—”

She snatched her cup away from him, and began to push toward the punch bowl, but Fujisaki took hold of her elbow before she could move very far. She shot him a filthy glare when his hand didn’t immediately retract.

“Here,” he said. He released her elbow, holding his hand up in a placating gesture. “I got this for myself, but you can have it. I’ll get another one.”

His other hand held a plastic cup, identical to her empty one. This one was full of punch. Hiyori hesitated for a second, then grabbed it from him, slopping some of it onto her hand.

“Thanks,” she muttered. She stalked back to the couch, leaving Fujisaki behind in the crowd. She didn’t see the smile that slipped across his mouth like poison.

When she got back to her seat, Yama had vanished. Viina had also left, so Hiyori took her place on the couch next to Tsuyu.

“Someone asked her to dance,” Tsuyu said in explanation. Then she rolled her eyes. “For the twelfth time.”

Hiyori peered into the press of dancing figures in the next room, and saw a flash of bright hair. Shaken from her encounter with Fujisaki, she took a large, fortifying gulp of her drink.

This batch was stronger. A lot stronger. Hiyori winced as a bitter streak of cold fire raced down her throat.

She wasn’t sure if it was annoyance with Fujisaki or the vague cloud of disappointment that had been hanging over her for most of the evening, but she relished the dizzy, insane euphoria that hit her system minutes after the punch did.

“I wan’ dance,” she informed Tsuyu—or thought she did, before turning her head to see that Tsuyu had been lured away. She saw her nearby, talking animatedly to a man who looked far, far too old for the party. Hiyori slowly came to recognize him as her literature professor, Dr. Tenjin.

“Why is he here?” she asked aloud. Her words came out slurred and incomprehensible.

“I think the real question is, why aren’t you dancing?”

The voice above her cut through the fog in Hiyori’s ears. She couldn’t place it at first, but as someone took her hand and pulled her up from the couch, she couldn’t locate her feet and ended up crashing against a tall, solid body.

“Looks like someone’s a lightweight,” said Fujisaki’s voice playfully, still from somewhere above her. Hiyori didn’t immediately associate the voice with the person holding her up.

“Hmm-mm.” She tried to shake her head “no,” but her neck was slow and her head was heavy. The delightful bubbles in her veins had turned to sludge, coursing through her like mud through a drowned river. Through the chest of the person holding her, she felt the vibration of a low chuckle against her cheek.

Her limbs dragged. She was so slow, so sleepy…so heavy, unbearably heavy.

Fujisaki’s voice spoke again, right against her face, so close she could smell his sour breath:

“Why don’t we take you someplace quiet?”

: : :

“Who’re you looking for?”

Kofuku’s quick eyes intercepted Yato’s wandering gaze as he scanned the crowd. He looked back at her with a start, and brought his cup to his lips to hide the guilty twitch of his mouth, which still burned from the Lava Hot Ghost Chili™ dust.

“No one,” he said guiltily.

Kofuku pursed her lips and crinkled her eyebrows. Her expression, which always lent itself so readily to mischief, became positively alarming as she stared him down and waited for the truth. Yato broke.

“I was invited by someone,” he admitted. “I’m looking for her.”

Kofuku squealed. She wrapped herself around his arm, starving for more details. “Oooooohhh, who?!?”

“You don’t know her.”

“I might!”

“You definitely don—”

Yato broke off suddenly, because he had seen something.

What he saw was this: Kouto Fujisaki standing on the other side of the room, his wolfish gaze trained on Yato. He had one arm wrapped around the waist of a girl who slumped against him, her head lolling on his shoulder. Yato’s eyes passed over Fujisaki to the girl, who looked half-asleep. Even from where Yato stood, across the loud, pulsing room, her posture and attitude radiated terrifying vulnerability.

The blood drained from Yato’s face so quickly that he felt dizzy.

The girl was Hiyori.

He looked at Fujisaki. As soon as their eyes met, Fujisaki’s hand dropped low on Hiyori’s hip and he licked his thin lips, winking at Yato in lewd victory. His hand crept lower. Yato looked back at Hiyori: at her vacant eyes, her drooping head. For a second, it looked like she was trying to push against Fujisaki, trying to dislodge the arm snaking around her.

The noise of the party dropped away, replaced by a dull, aching buzz that originated somewhere in his sinuses.

Then, the room went red.

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