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camomills · 4 years

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Title: Stars of Soot Relationships: Silica/Sinon Fandom: Sword Art Online Word Count: 3083 Summary: Sinon shows off GGO to Silica as a date, at Silica's request. As she experiences the different sensations of such a hardy world, Silica wonders why this world means so much to the other girl. Notes: Made for SAO Pride Week 2020 - Day 2: Stargazing. This one wasn't beta read because I was a bit pressed for time, so please forgive me for any glaring errors. It's been a while since I wrote Silica/Sinon! It was quite fun to revisit the ship. As per usual for me, this wound up as a weird mix of fluff and character study.

AO3 Link

The air in Gun Gale Online smells like gasoline and gunpowder, but Silica doesn’t mind… much. Not when she clings to Sinon’s back as they speed down the highway on a rental buggy, pigtails fluttering in the wind as her cheek finds rest in-between her girlfriend’s shoulder blades.

“I still can’t believe you want to try out this game,” Sinon says, the metallic hairpins on the sides of her face clinking lightly. She’s still not that used to driving, in the game or otherwise, so she keeps her eyes on the road instead of turning her head back as she talks. Vehicular collisions are not particularly romantic.

I just want to know what you see in it , Silica replies in her mind, raising her head.

She understands that, for all the time they spent together in ALO ’s fairy realm, that wasn’t Shino’s ‘world’, not in the way this place is. When she doesn’t bury herself in the curve of Sinon's back, the gas and soot is more apparent to all of her virtual senses, and even though it was her own proposition, she has to ask, why? Why choose colorless tiles and cracked pavement over the boundless hues of fantasy?

“I’d be lying if I said I… particularly get it,” Silica admits. “But this world is important to you, right?”

“Yeah,” Sinon replies. “ GGO might be an acquired taste, though. This game is gritty.”

She rolls her shoulders, leaning further back onto Silica.

Excluding Silica, Sinon has never been one for bubbly and cute, so GGO would always be a better fit for her. But this virtual world was made with inhospitality in mind, so not exactly the perfect dating spot. The fact that she’s here for one surprises her more than it does anyone else.

“Well,” Silica says, “good thing you’re here, then! Having a tour guide to show around should be a huge help.”

Sinon wheezes. “So I’m your tour guide, now?”

“Yes!” Silica proudly proclaims.

The sniper smirks. “Okay, then.”

Sinon twists the handlebars, and the bugey roars as it peels through the road. She can’t help but smile as Silica’s high-pitched yell reaches her ears, just barely audible over the revving of the engine.

The howling of gunfire can’t be heard as much within GGO ’s hub city, but the loud advertisements that echo from the bright signs serve as a fitting substitute, volume-wise.

Silica’s only knowledge of this game comes from watching Sinon and Kirito fight for their lives, real and virtual, through a tournament broadcast. The fact that Sinon still logs in daily to Gun Gale even after that incident would be odd to anyone other than people like the beast tamer and her friends, who are all VR addicts despite their time in Aincrad.

The two years in the floating castle, despite the pain it caused her, was where Silica grew the most. She’d never openly say that there’s a part of her that misses the days after the one year mark, when she’d settled into her reputation in those lower floors and tried to forget the outside world so much that she succeeded. None of her friends would. It’s a silent understanding and an untold promise; not to admit missing those days, so they don’t have to, either.

What does GGO, a medley of grit, greys and metal, mean to Sinon?

Their circumstances are different, but the scars they bear stain their skins in similar ways. The masks offered by virtual worlds, Silica knew, gave one the opportunity to confront themselves in ways one couldn’t anywhere else. There was something to the kind of place one chose to do so that Silica found important to know.

Sinon got to see New Aincrad, walk over the same plains wherein the beast tamer had met Pina, bask under the same electronic sunlight she experienced for two years.

It’s not fair if only one of them gets to do it, is it?

The sun sets while they stroll through the city, and Silica understands more of the acquired taste Sinon had mentioned. The approaching dusk was somewhat nice on itself, but the place was still a palette of monochrome then, all steel on sand, black on white. Once it’s officially night time in game, 6:00 PM sharp, however, everything changes. The dark of night makes the huge, floating billboards pop, neons of purple and blue scattered through the cyber landscape. The virtual city night lights become luminous streaks in her vision while they dash on the way here on the buggy, not unlike how she imagines speeding through one of Tokyo’s nightlife districts in a motorcycle would feel like. It’s movielike, but not fantastical or unreal, but maybe that’s the point; she doesn’t think she’d have the guts to go at such high speeds with her flesh-and-bone body, nor would Shino have the confidence Sinon presents.

There are things from real life that one can only do in a game like this.

***

They stop by an equipment shop at the center of the now-luminous city. Unlike the last time she was here with someone else, Sinon has no tournament sign-in to get to after shopping, so they can take their time.

Sinon is surprised when Silica picks an overall sensible combat outfit; a tactical green and black leather outfit with red accents, along with a dark, moss-colored poncho. We kind of match! Silica beams as she presents herself, pointing back and forth between her and Sinon’s outfit colors. She frames her face delicately and comically she does so, her eyes shining like a cartoon fawn’s. Sinon knows it’s on purpose, this over-the-top display of sweetness, but it makes her smile anyway.

Of course Silica found a way to make this cute.

It’s also cute, albeit in a different way, when Silica’s eyes look away from the armor section of the store and widen as she takes notice of a display of combat knives. They’re military-grade blades, absolutely indistinguishable from the real-world articles. Unlike just a moment ago, the shine in her eyes is unfeigned.

“Oh yeah, this game has these!” Silica exclaims.

Sinon turns to her with a quizzical look.

“... You’re interested in the knives?” That makes it two for two, the times she’s taken someone new here and they thoroughly ignored guns. Are all fantasy game players like this?

“Of course I do!” Silica exclaims, like it’s obvious. Her look all but says, I spent years fighting with daggers, remember?

Silica takes one of the knives from the demo display. It looks comically large in her hands, and yet it pales in comparison to the ones she’s grown used to in fantasy games. She spins the handle in-between her fingers, resting it on her knuckles. The hand flourish when she bumps the blade upwards, sending the knife spinning high, and then catches it from the air with her open palm is almost too fast to see. She gleefully changes the grip a few times before finally settling it in a simple reverse grip.

“They have such a better feel than those bulky daggers!” Silica exclaims in glee.

“ Impressive,” Sinon mutters under her breath. She can’t help but be hit with a sense of deja vu .

There’s a sensible distance one can gain when looking at someone brandishing a bright sword that looks more like a cosplay prop, or a fantasy dagger coated in filigrees. But there’s no distancing from seeing Silica, in all of her titanic five feet of height, doing knife tricks one would expect of a special forces soldier, or perhaps a movie greaser, when the blade is so realistic.

Sinon would be lying if she said she doesn’t find the display at least somewhat attractive.

Sinon heads over to a small menu in front of the knife section as she selects the same blade Silica had in hand. Soon after she goes through the proper transaction steps, holding Silica’s hand and laying it over the holographic display, one of the store robots scoots over to hand Silica her item.

Silica’s smile makes the credits Sinon spends all worth it.

… Is a knife a weird gift to give your girlfriend? Sinon thought, but that was a bridge already crossed. Then, she remembers the real reason they came here.

“I know you’re mostly here to look around, but you’ll still need some sort of main weapon if you’re to experience the game. Pick whatever gun you’d like to test out and we can go to a shooting range.”

****

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am absolutely serious!”

Instead of the shooting range, the two find themselves by a station near the edge of the city, connected to the game’s starter fields.

The vehicle’s mounted weapon protrudes from a hatch on top. Its long, steely frame glimmers as it reflects the sun’s harsh light. The heavy machine gun could be mistaken as some sort of cannon for the uninitiated in the ballistic arts, with its bulky, long barrel, but it’s a high-RPM, lightning-fast automatic weapon, nothing short of a reinforced harbinger of death.

“You said I could pick any weapon,” Silica reminded the other girl. “I’m picking this mounted gatling gun.”

Machine gun, actually, Sinon thought of correcting. Other than the regular shooting ranges in GGO, there were also training grounds for driving by the outskirts of the city, by the game’s starting area - it had been where Sinon had trained her bugey skills, in fact - but the knowledge of that, or of the existence of mounted weapons, is the sort of knowledge most newbies wouldn’t have.

Silica did her research for sure... and was probably planning this.

Sinon’s original plan was to simply show Silica around the game, so buying an expensive armored vehicle sounds unwise, especially when there’s only two people.

The sniper squints her eyes at the shorter girl. Noticing Sinon’s glare, Silica fans her eyelashes pleadingly, and Sinon’s resolve falters.

… I guess I was thinking of getting everyone else to convert and help me out, anyway?

“... Fine,” Sinon concedes. “But you better help me convince everyone else to hop on here for the PKer problem, then.”

Silica immediately jumps in excitement. The humvee’s engine purrs to life as Sinon turns the engine key, and the newbie gunner excitedly hops to the top hatch.

*****

Silica is small, but she doesn’t feel so when she holds onto the trigger in the huge weapon’s handlebars, the generated mobs in the starting fields shattering into red sparks. She loudly laughs in excitement as the high speed vehicle traverses the shifting sands.

The ride is a feeling unlike her other experiences with virtual worlds. It might be due to what Sinon earlier described as a “commitment to grittiness,” but the game still replicates hints of discomfort; her small frame vibrates from the gun’s recoil, her fingertips feel a bit too warm, and she has to ask Sinon to stop every so often because of dizziness.

It’s annoying at first, but it grows on her.

Silica wonders if this is part of what draws Sinon to this world.

******

Silica finds the pink hue that covers GGO ’s desert sands endearing.

She gets a good vantage point to admire the landscape as she’s wrapped in one of Sinon’s arms and they zip up a rocky structure. The grappling hook’s line is taut with their combined weight.

Despite the pleasure found in their proximity, as her hand holds Silica’s body close to her by the waist, Sinon does so primarily out of practicality, as Silica doesn’t possess a grappling hook of her own.

Silica, however, finds herself smitten by the situation. Being carried in the arms of a cool girl as she takes in the sights of a foreign world, the warmth of her body providing solace in the cold, simulated night, is a scene befitting a dream she’d have long ago if she’d known she liked girls sooner.

Silica sighs in disappointment as they reach the summit, going from dream to simulated reality. As she looks at Sinon, she’s glad this reality, virtual as it is, is still dreamy aplenty.

The plateau atop the rock formations, where monsters couldn’t reach, was the perfect stargazing spot. It allows them to wind down after spending an entire day driving, shooting, and in Silica’s case, shouting in excitement. Sinon is not exactly the romantic type, far from it, but even she recognizes what the beauty of GGO’s night sky can do to one’s heart. She’s glad she gets to watch it with someone else now, instead of only her sniper rifle for company.

Sinon sits herself by a boulder on the plateau that she manages to find snug. The wordless invitation she gives Silica, as the spot to her side seems like it would fit her perfectly, beckons the younger girl, who hasn’t acquired the same grit to be truly comfortable on the hard surface. Thankfully, Sinon’s shoulder is softer than the rocks.

“So, what did you think?” Sinon asks. “Was I a good tour guide?”

“Yes,” Silica answers. “I give you five stars!” She nuzzles closer onto Sinon’s side.

They stare out at the sky. The moon is hidden behind drifting clouds.

“I have a confession to make,” Silica admits, in a tone that sits between jokey and serious. “I didn’t want to try this game only to shoot guns.”

“Oh?” Sinon’s surprise is clearly feigned. Even she would be able to understand that Silica’s request to see this game was a date proposition. There was a reason she decided to cap the night off with stargazing.

“Yeah. I guess I figured… playing this game would make me feel closer to you.”

“Oh.” Sinon’s surprise this time is genuine. “Well… do you?”

“Hmm.” Silica looks at them, sitting side by side, sharing warmth, and yes seems like the obvious answer here. “I mean, yes. But I suppose I was looking for an answer.”

“An answer… did you find it?”

“I’m not sure I did. I think I found… something,” Silica says. Her grip on Sinon’s arm tightens, a mix of affection and nervousness. “I think there is something important about virtual worlds, and why we’re drawn to them. I... now that I think about it, maybe I could’ve just asked you from the beginning.”

Her heels pitter-patter on the rocky surface.

“What does this… What does GGO mean to you?”

Sinon looks at Silica, a bit puzzled.

Silica doesn’t know how fair of a question it is, really. Could she explain what drew her to virtual worlds? Why thinking of Aincrad, her former prison, makes her feel homesick? But she’s nothing if not sincere, and she wants to know. She figures Sinon, introspective as she is, thinks about those things more than she does.

“GGO is, you know.” Sinon makes a meaningless hand gesture. She thought obsessively before about this question - her objective, her growth, her path towards becoming stronger , she called it. She doesn’t know how to distill it in a sensible way, is all.

A place to face my fears?

Where I met Kirito, thus, how I met you?

“ Home?” Sinon says without registering.

Oh.

It’s under this night sky, beneath a red moon, that Sinon realizes this is the first time she got to enjoy this world with someone she truly cared for, life-or-death situations notwithstanding. This place, with its odd smells, rattling sounds, and even unpleasant sensations, has been one of the few places of respite she had from… everything. Others. The world. Herself. It’s more evident now, with someone to share it.

“I came to this world because I wanted to surpass who I was. I wanted to become stronger,” Sinon explains, unsure of whether she sounds pretentious. Sinon’s jaw clenches, and Silica gives her a reassuring squeeze. “When I first came here, there was nothing I wanted more than to erase my real self with this- this stronger version of me. This better version of me.”

The image of Hecate II, her sniper rifle, her companion, comes to mind. She’d thought before, at times, what was she without its weight on her back, other than a fragile girl who can’t help but retch at the sight of gun replicas? Without burnt fingertips and trembling shoulders from gun recoil, how could she call the strength she built here real?

This place is home because it was under this same carmine moon that she realized Asada Shino, the high-schooler, was just as much of a warrior as Sinon, the elite sniper. Under this virtual sky, nothing but code threads woven into a reality, was where she accepted who she was.

She fidgets with her fingerless gloves as she continues. “It’s hard to give a simple answer,” she concedes. “But if I had to try, I’d say… this is the place that showed me it was okay for me to be myself. To recognize my strength, to connect with others. Back then, before this game, I never thought I’d get to have... this, I guess.” Sinon nudges Silica’s shoulder with hers, playfully. “Who knows. Maybe I just wanted to be proven wrong.”

Silica’s heart tightens. She moves a hand to Sinon’s cheek.

“I’m glad you were proven wrong, then.”

In what Silica is pretty sure is the first time, Sinon is the one approaching her for a kiss.

It’s quick and sweet. Sinon’s thin lips press onto Silica’s lightly. It’s easy to forget they’re in the virtual world then, with their eyes closed the way they are, the waves of warmth radiating through their faces as the only signal their AmuSpheres send to their brains.

*******

The night goes by quietly as they stare to the sky, save for the distant sounds of underground monsters shifting the sands and Silica’s occasional comment of how she’s sure she can tell the constellations even through the thick clouds. They have little time before GGO’s short day cycle robs them of this sight.

That sky, this world, are virtual, and they know that. It’s hard to tell, though, when it shares stars with the real one, when it shares warmth with the real one, when the strength they gain, the bonds they deepen, the sights they see, carry over to the real one.

The air in Gun Gale Online smells like gasoline and gunpowder, but Silica doesn’t mind… at all, really, when it grants them the opportunity to be so frank and close, so near when they’re so far.

When it grants them the opportunity to be themselves more than anywhere else.

#SAO #Sword Art Online #saoprideweek2020 #Silinon #Silicon #Fili writes

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cruzrogue · 5 years

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Perfect Party

#Fictober19 @fictober-event

————————————————————————

for fanfiction:

Prompt number: 15 “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Fandom (AU if applicable): #arrow fanfiction #olicity

Rating:PG13

Warnings/Tags: AngstyFluff

Summary: Continuation from prompt 14 College kids: Oliver and Megan (Felicity) become a couple and this is when he finds out her real first name as he tells his kids the story.

Notes:(This became a monster… there was supposed be no angsty conversation but it happened anyway. I wrote to make another fluff piece but… Ah! Anyways here it is…)

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

Perfect Party on A03

Cracking open another book to read. Oliver just gazes at where his tutor is sitting reading her own book. She’s plopped down using a sofa as a backrest as her slender legs are over an interior designer’s weird conversational piece. Her heavy long kneed boots are off to the side. She’s reading her least favorite subject of U.S. history as he is taking side notes as he’s reading his textbook of macro-economics. They are both bored out of their minds but they’re under a timer. These minutes belong to these textbooks and they have been both honoring this kind of system of studying.

Oliver won’t argue that since he first took in seriously studying with the help of the Goth girl he met in South Boston by a sidewalk in the late evening hour his grades have steadily improved. To this day she still adheres that she saved him from that lame party. He’ll never know if it was truly lame but he deeply doesn’t care. It’s the party that brought them together thus to him he has no qualms of ever knowing.

The little ding in the background goes off and he lets out a content sigh. He can’t help but watch Megan stretch out like a cat and he inwardly groans because they’re not at that stage of their relationship. She looks so damn sexy all the time and he’s learned that cold showers don’t always work because she’s now always on his mind.

“I’m hungry!”

He’s learned that she has a very vast appetite. As long as tree nuts are not on the menu she can have it all. “What are you hungry for?”

She shrugs but says anyways, “You pick, I chose last time.”

“Greasy or no?”

“Does it matter? You have full control of the pick. Even that rabbit food you’ve successfully added to my diet.”

“Okay, okay! So, I feel like a cheeseburger and some fries.”

He can see the moment that her excitement for meat comes to the forefront as she does this cute gesture of raising her hand in a fist bump.

“That’s what I’m talking about!”

He just chuckles and it has her cozying up to him as her lips finds his. Mmm… this part of their relationship is gotta be the best. Every kiss they share is full of sizzling potential and they’ve never crossed any lines. For now, they are taking everything slow. She has this thing about slow burn and her explaining it to him was a doozy. Her words cycle around his mind as she’s making herself comfortable on his lap as the phrase refers to stories featuring characters who gradually and naturally fall in love or lust before beginning a romantic or sexual relationship. He won’t suggest to her again that their already in some sort of romantic relationship because it led to her thinking things through the first time and it landed him cursing himself as he lost out on more intimate moments. Yep, he shot his foot off with that mistake he learned not to do it again.

He holds her closer to him enjoying that her chest bumps against his and he knows she can feel how excited he is but she just doesn’t mention it ever. This is girl is becoming a staple in his world and the thought of him now graduating next year while she’ll still be working for her double major has made its presence in his psyche. She just too incredible and they’ve been together for over two semesters now.

The fact that he doesn’t even notice other females has been brought to his attention several times by his male buddies. Using his studies as an excuse he’s keeping more to himself and interacting on a down low with any college partying frat boys. Being honest with himself has been hard. It’s one of the things that has made his growth possible. It would put a lot of stress on his relationship with Megan if she were the sole reason for the changes. Because she doesn’t want to be his savior but he knows her well enough that she believes more in equality. Sharing burdens and stuff. Things he has learned about her through conversations over long noir films, studying moments, and these wonderful make out sessions.

Her perfect weight on his lap not only does things to him but feeling her beside him all the emotions he has deep inside have a way of coming out slowly and after all these long weeks together he wants to tell her that he’s in love with her. He thought about being cheesy a few times but she’d be so disappointed if he went that route. Not on the declaration of love but using time tested romcom samples that are overboard. He finds she has big tastes on technology but doesn’t fancy jewelry given by really anyone.

He landed up giving her signed poster of music groups she loves or that one actress she adores from her favorite show they watch. Buying her a convention ticket to see these people she can recite story lines was like he got down on one knee and proposed. It was amazing how excited she was.

One thing they’re both of aware of is their different social-economics and he is careful to not overwhelm her with family’s status. It would spook her away. It took a bit from him when she found he comes from a wealthy family not to lose her back then. Just lucky they share a close connection.

“Megan, you are such a nerd.”

“I am not apologizing for liking meat.”

He chuckles. “I meant the fist bump. That is such a geeky thing to do.”

She shrugs her shoulder she’s done a lot of other nerdy things she won’t apologize even if he’s just teasing. She shrugs her shoulders she’s done a lot of other nerdy things she won’t apologize even if he’s just teasing. “But you like the thought of me liking meat?” For the first time in their relationship she grinds against him and his eyes become so wide as he is flabbergasted at her forwardness.

“I… I”

“Is Mr. sexy pants mute?”

He nods still wondering what his temptress is doing. Her fingers softly messaging his scalp through the light cropped hair she seems to like. Gosh he’s even sporting scruff that has her kissing his neck since she told him to cut off the beard deep in December after he grew out his facial hair for no shave November. Keeping it trim to this day many months later. Anything that he notices or she out right tells him how much she likes or hates something has him keep to a beauty regimen. Not that he hasn’t had some little says in her own little routines. Like a certain fragrance he admiringly associates with her.

“We are on a break; I’m going to eat a juicy burger and what isn’t there to love?”

“Megan? That isn’t the reason I’m surprised.”

“Hmm… I need to confess something to you and I need you not to get upset.”

Just as quickly as he is aroused, he becomes paranoid that something is going to break this perfection that they have going on.

“As much as I love how you say Megan…”

“Baby I love your name.”

“It’s actually my middle name.” The frozen look on his face has her worried that he may think she’s lied about many other important things. “There is nothing else I’ve kept from you, I just liked using Megan and the way you’d say Meg or Maggie or any other variations just was so perfect but…”

He isn’t totally convinced. He doesn’t understand how she kept something as monumental from him. Everywhere they went he introduced her as Megan his girlfriend. She has yet to meet his parents but the name Megan has fallen from hips a million times conversing with family and friends.

“I mean in reality Megan is still my name.”

He pushes her off slightly and she moves so he can get up. “No!” He just walks to a window in his apartment. They always hang out here because she lives in a dorm. “To think some of your friends having to go along with this farce when they call you by your real name.”

“Oliver? That isn’t the case. I introduce myself to a lot of people as Megan.”

“Really? And how many of these people think about you? Truly care about you? Even dream of you? Simply as what your middle name is?”

She makes a joke of it, “My mother calls me by my whole name either when she’s really happy or annoyed with me.”

“That is supposed to make me feel better?” He is now really agitated. “You don’t get to make this into a joke. Here I am opening myself to you and I don’t even know your name.” He looks away from her. Not allowing her sorrow to change how angry he is becoming.

She knows she in deep trouble he is right and she played the whole name thing lightly not seeing it through his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“I would have continued calling you Megan if you have this horrendous name you didn’t want to share at first. Though whatever it is I would love it. Just because it’s a part of you.”

“Wow! I guess I’m a stupid fool I never put much stock into it but I should have and I am really sorry.”

He finally slowly turns to look at his girlfriend and it strikes him he doesn’t even know her name. She can see the realization in his face as he just stares at her blankly.

“It’s Felicity, Felicity Megan Smoak.”

If she thought the frozen look on his face before was concerning whatever is going through her mind is really a shocker.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

When Oliver pauses it has his kids on edge. He’s telling the story in a cleaner version of how he learned his wife’s first name. It seems telling his kids this as they wait for their mother to come home may have not been the wisest idea.

“Dad what happened?”

“Yes daddy, did you break up?”

The youngest being so innocent and not truly understanding relationships asks if they ever made up.

Oliver checks his phone and a text by Felicity telling him she’s running late. She finishing up from another conference meeting so he continues on with the story. She’ll be home soon.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

“Felicity… Fe-li-ci-ty.” He just says her name one more time, “Felicity! I don’t get it. It’s actually a very beautiful name.”

“It’s a cheesy name. It means happiness, I’m a Goth girl.”

Oliver sighs he really doesn’t get it. She has been making him happy all these months. The name is perfect. Now that he knows the truth. As much as she’s been Megan from now on, he’ll always think of her has Felicity. What is the most important matter to him is how long he will get to know Felicity? It seems that maybe he had more emotional attachment to her than she has had of him. Maybe her tutoring him and having him mastering his academia is a thrill for her. She’s one of a kind who is he to really know what goes through that mind of hers? Only that he’d be devastated because along the way he gave her his heart even if he hasn’t said so its implied.

“I know your mad, I guess I really screwed up and I’m sorry.”

“It makes me wonder if I’m just an experiment. A fixer upper that you…”

Felicity looks horrified as she cuts him off, “Oh no. No! You’ve been nothing but the perfect dream. I’m always worried I’d wake up and you’d be over me. Falling in love with you was so easy.” She catches what she just said and her hand goes to her mouth. He is about to break up with her and she’s telling him she loves him. She can be such a fool.

“I couldn’t be over you even if I wanted to.” He doesn’t mention the whole falling in love that could just be faux pas said in haste.

Felicity aches now knowing that he doesn’t even think her declaration of falling for him is seen real to him. That stings. “I should go.”

“That is probably for the best.” Yet neither move. The air is thick with unsaid words as their emotions are crumbling with angst.

Felicity is a smart girl she knows if she walks out there won’t be a them any longer. The them that has been crafted over time. She sucks in a breath; she created this mess and she needs to fix it. “I can’t apologize enough for how my careless way of thinking of things in simplest of facts.” She won’t go without at least telling him how much she loves him. “It being a name.” She sighs as she glances at him and watching that he is listening gives her some hope. “I didn’t take to account the emotional side of all this.” Taking a small pause, “You mean the world to me. Oliver, I love you so much…” She tearing up. “That love is from all of me. Felicity Megan Smoak the daughter of Donna and also a father named Noah who I haven’t seen since I was seven.”

Talking about her parents is like pulling teeth. He knows it hard for her so this acknowledgement means something. She really is trying to amend the situation. It really is just a name. It’s not like he doesn’t know how clinical she can be in her thinking process.

“Noah is a fool of a man letting go of such a bright amazing girl.” He moves up to her just like when they met.

“Maybe I just wasn’t…”

“Shh.” He’s looking down to her, “His failure isn’t your own.” He wipes a few stray tears she has let go. “You mean the world to me too.”

“I do?”

“I love you.” He cups her face and finally kisses the one who has his heart.

Still having his hands on her face, she inquires, “Does that mean you forgive me?”

With a sigh his eyes searching hers, “Of course I’d forgive you. We’ll always see some things differently and there will always be fights that are bound to happen.”

“I don’t like fighting.”

He leans in to kiss her as he tells her the same thing.

She’s a little forward in rubbing her hands just under his shirt. “I heard making up is supposed to be…”

He stops her. They haven’t crossed that line yet and he’ll be damn if their first time is happening this way. “I love you Meg…” He closes his eyes this is going to take some getting used to. “Felicity Smoak but I’m still processing this whole name thing and when we take the next step it won’t be after an argument.”

She nods in agreement.

“So, what about some burgers?”

Felicity stops him from leaving her space as she now holds him to her as she raises on her tiptoes to kiss him.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

As the door in the back where it leads to the mudroom opens and Oliver takes a pause as his kids are listening to a very clean version of when he found out Megan was indeed Felicity’s middle name. He looks to the newest addition sitting in the high chair just happily gnawing on a teeth ring. Oblivious to his siblings’ excitement until he hears his mother’s voice and all of a sudden his son a babbling genius. A pang of jealousy hit Oliver as his little munchkin doesn’t show him that kind of welcome.

“Mom’s home.”

Felicity welcomes her two youngest with open arms and gives them kisses than she hugs her eldest as she slowly walks into her husband’s embrace. It doesn’t take long for their youngest to disapprove and want his mother’s sole attention.

“Sorry, hi there handsome.” She’s kissing the baby as the other kids settle back down. She looks at the expecting faces and makes sure to look at her husband as she asks, “Did I miss something?”

“I was just telling them about when I learned Felicity was your first name.” She gives him a weary look. “Don’t worry it was the PG version.”

“Did mommy come off as a clown?” She regrets saying those words as her kids start to asking about clowns. She just meant if she came off sounding awful but now she’s denying any clowns were a part of the story their father told them. Oliver is just off to the side observing his wife having to explain herself ah yes those memories fill his mind as he has his lips puckered up. She sure can dig a hole for herself. As he recalls the true lustful events of that study session.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

“So, what about some burgers?”

“Oliver? I am hungry!” She doesn’t wait for him to truly understand as she already hopping onto him, wrapping her legs around his waist as her lips find that particular spot that has him growl and that’s the purr of his she needs. He catches on quick as he has to keep them from falling as his girl is doing things to him. He unfailingly finds the perfect spot a few steps away to allow her to continue doing this most erogenous thing to his body as she certainly rubs herself on him.

He’s losing the ability to think because just a moment ago he was against this scenario and now his body pretty much told his mind to shut up. He sinking down deeper onto the sofa she used as a backrest earlier.

There is lips and teeth and the occasion tongue and oh those moans that have both of them panting as they seem to be so lost in each other. Succulent skin that deserves the devotion as hands seem to roam and sweet nips upon each other’s skin only raises the stakes to needing more. Sweet words spilled as some gasps of warm sweet air spurs stimuli onto their hair follicles making for the most enticing shivers.

Felicity has been ready for this for a while, the thought of Oliver’s palms caressing her without barriers of any kind. Even pondering wet dreams of the friction she mostly thirsts for that only he can quench.

At first she teased him. Their relationship wasn’t formed the bonds they have now wasn’t there and it was easy to promise things like promiscuity. Fortunately for them It didn’t work like that because they found that it wasn’t just an attraction that kept them coming to each other’s orbit. They truly sought one another just to discourse what was actually happening in their lives. Until they couldn’t fathom not having the intertwined lives they were leading. Good and bad shared, memories of past conversations, voices becoming lullabies at night and waking thoughts of the other person in mundane tasks. They were falling in love.

It took a stomach rumble which neither could tell if it was theirs but they pulled away laughing. They were good. Though they pulled away from the other knowing that it really wasn’t the right time to go further. There is no hurry.

~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~sp@ce~~~~~~****~~~~~~~~

“Come to find out your mommy was very hungry.” Oliver chuckles as his wife actually accidentally demonstrates his point. She is hungry.

The kids try to follow their parents story but there are so many vague points they have no idea what actually happened. They just know that their dad found out what their mom’s name was and that was the end. There was kissing. More kissing. As they watch their dad pull their mom into another hug they know another kiss will happen.

#fictober19 #olicity #oliver queen #felicity smoak #arrow

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walkingdeadfan25 · 6 years

Text

Our Shot (Back to You)

Fandom: Hamilton

Pairings: Alexander/Oc- Lin-Manuel Miranda

Rating: Mature

**Disclaimer: This was inspired by a fanfic named 'A Winter's Ball' by @1781styles . Go check out the story it's amazing and tugs the heart strings! There are similarities inspired by it and all originality goes to them. I do not own Hamilton. Just my OC. Enjoy! Also sorry for any inaccuracy in timeline.***

Rosanna Elle Schuyler was the second eldest sister at 17. With her long light brown tresses and blue eyes, she was certainly a beautiful woman. She lived in an exciting time in an newfound country. It was a social night as she took in the joyous people around her.

The party around her was in full swing as she watched her older sister Angelica enjoying the moonlight while her younger sisters Eliza and Peggy were getting refreshments. As her eyes danced across the room, Rose spotted a handsome young man who would forever change her lives.

Alexander Hamilton.

As she took in his soulful and passionate eyes and hair pulled back into a small ponytail at his nape her heart flew and she was filled with a feeling of completion. Intrigued by this new comer, she discretely tried to catch his attention. After several failed attempts, she decided to point him out to Angelica but she had noticed him and just knew he'd be cute for her beloved sister Rosanna. "I found this handsome man who I must meet." "I think I finally found you a man." They spoke at the same time. "Which one is he?", Angelica asked.

"This one is mine.", Rosanna smiled shyly as she pointed out Hamilton who was talking with other men. Angelic could see the slight dreamy look in her face. Seeing her beloved sister finally showing interest in the opposite sex spurred her into action and Rosanna looked on in slight panic as Angelica approached him. She watched them interact and became a bit jealous with how easily she interacted with Alexander and how he seemed to enjoy her company. Suddenly, he looked over and caught her eyes and the world slowed down until it felt like they were the only two people in the room as they got helplessly lost in one another's gaze.

Angelica walked him over and introduced them to one another. "Rosanna Schuyler, pleased to meet you."

"Schuyler?", he asked.

Angelica beamed as the two took each other in and just knew they were the one for each other. "My sister."

"Thank you truly for your service in this upcoming revolution. It's about time." "Thank you Miss Schuyler. And if it takes fighting a war for us to meet then it was worth it." As the two converse, Anglica left them to go gossip to their other sisters. "Would you like to dance?", Alexander asked as he offered Rosanna his hand. She placed her hand in his and she knew she would never forget the way his work roughened skin felt against hers. As they danced the rest of the night and Alex introduced her to his other friends, their lives began to intertwine as The Fates threaded them together.

Weeks passed as the two grew close until the day that would test their budding relationship.

"You and Angelica will be going to London to get a proper education. I am not negotiating this matter further, young lady.", Rosanna's father said as she left his office dejected and heartbroken. She ran to her older sister in tears. "Angelica. He won't change his mind. I- I can't leave, especially to London of all places. What if Alexander realizes that he could do so much better?"

Angelica embraced her sister and whispered encouraging words. "He loves you and as more than a friend. I've seen the way he is around you. He looks at you like you are the sun to his moon. He will not let some time apart deter his feelings. And he can never do better Rosanna. Go to him."

Rosanna went to her and Alexander's meet up spot in the park. Her heart was beating erractically as she noticed his approaching figure. As he neared, he could see she had been crying and began to worry. "Rose, why have you been crying, is everything ok?" , he asked as he grasped her hands and kissed them enjoying how soft they felt against his lips and wished to press them to hers but did not want to move too fast and scare her.

Rosanna looked up to him and as her blue gaze met his fiery brown gaze her eyes watered. "I will be leaving for London in a day's time. My father is sending Angelica and I for a better education. I'll be gone for three years. But I don't want to go. I want to stay here with my family a-and with you, Alex."

Alexander's heart tightened as hope fluttered in his chest and it set a flight as he realized Rosanna was expressing her feelings in her own way. "Fret not my Rose. Our time apart will not change a thing. I will be leaving as well for war but I will write you every week. Our time apart will go by so fast." To seal his promise, Alexander lifted her left hand to his face. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before pressing it to his cheek. Rosanna cupped his face as he pressed a searing and intimate kiss to the inside of her wrist and they smiled.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★

My dearest Rose,

As each day goes by your face never leaves my mind. I long for the day we see each other again. As long as I live my heart shall always be yours.

As the time passed his letters grew in passion until they suddenly stopped and so close to when the two Schuyler sisters were to return home. Rosanna did not think too much of it but still read each letter he sent her, she kept them all in a wooden box Alex had gifted to her before she left. She didn't even notice how Angelica had began to distance herself from her. And that was step one in Rosanna's downfall. She was too caught up in love she didn't stop to take in the world surrounding her. Love is a good thing children but you have to mix in reality before it is your undoing.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★

"Home. It is good to be back. I can't wait to see mother, father, Peggy, Eliza and Alexander." "Yes, great to be home.", Angelica said as a knot formed in her stomach. She did not know how to tell her beloved sister the dreadful news. As they entered their childhood home everyone rejoiced as the two eldest Schuyler sisters returned. Alexander took in Rosanna. She had gotten even more beautiful, if that was even possible in Alex's mind. Her hair had grown to mid-back and fell around her in unruly curls. Her face had softened and matured as she was now a woman of twenty.

Rosanna pulled away from her mother's embrace and turned to Alexander. He gave her a smile that she noticed didn't quite meet his eyes. She was a bit worried as he did not seem as excited about their reunion as she. He gave her a quick hug and she relished the feel of being in his arms as his musky scent of fresh parchment and something woodsy that was him, filtered through her senses.

They parted much too quick for Rosanna's taste and everyone headed to the dining room for dinner. Once dinner was in full swing, Rosanna couldn't help but to notice the ring on Eliza's ring finger. "Elizabeth Schuyler I believe there is something you have not told me dear sister. Who is the lucky man?" She was happy her sister found happiness like she did with Alexander. She wanted all her sisters to be happy. "Well come on don't be shy Eliza.", she encouraged lightly.

It was silent for several heartbeats as no one wanted to speak. "Alexander."

Rosanna's brain worked to process her answer. Confusion and slight panic filled her expression as she asked, "Alexander who?" "Hamilton." Rosanna felt her heart quiver painfully and tighten in her chest as hurt, anger and betrayal filled her expression. "W-what? W-why?" "Rose-", Alexander began.

"Don't. Y-you are a Bastard! You are a good for nothing bastard and coward! What, did all of you know?" Alexander felt his heart burn in pain and shame as he watched his first love break. Her eyes began to water but the tears refused to fall, magnifying the brilliant blue of her eyes. Everyone's silence gave Rosanna her answer. "Y-you all knew and no one told me? I-I trusted you all. And no one told me. I expected nothing less from papa or Eliza but you Angelica?" Her voice cracked at the end and her bottom lip trembled. Her face fell apart as did her heart. "I hate you all. Especially you two." She ran from the room as her sobs broke free and slammed her door shut.

Alexander followed after her and reached her door as she slammed it shut. He heard her collapse to her floor as her sobs wracked through her small trembling body. Tears filled Alexander's eyes as he heard her fall apart because of him. He rested his hand on her door as he quietly slid to the floor.

That night a family was broken apart for the first time and the threads holding Alexander and Rosanna together slowly fell apart and Rosanna's began to darken and fade.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★

As the days passed, Rosanna locked herself away. Her delicate heart was broken beyond repair. In just a few shorts hours she had lost her true love and her family and it was all done by them. Rosanna began to blame herself for not seeing the changes around her. She began to second guess herself and convinced herself the reason he chose Eliza was because she was better in everything than her. It was her worst fear come to life; Alexander realized she wasn't good enough and found better.

Her family tried to talk to her, to get her from her room but Rosanna just sat in her little reading nook at her window staring blankly out of the window. She refused to leave her room not even when her body screamed at her its needs. Everyone feared for her as days passed and no one heard from her. She grew ill as her skin lost its color, her hair fell flat and lifeless and her eyes dulled to a dull lifeless grey.

Her mother called on the doctor once their cries for her to open went unanswered. The doctor came and her door forced open. What they found was heart-wrenchingly sad. The once lively and vibrant Rosanna was reduced to a lifeless empty shell of her former beautiful soul. Eliza left the room in tears as she witnessed what she had helped bring her sister to do to herself.

Rosanna was so far gone and retreated inside her mind that the doctor and Angelica were met with no resistance as they moved her to her bed. Her skin was ice cold and frail as was the rest of her. As the doctor checked her vitals, her mother, father, three sisters and Alexander gathered in the family room to await his assessment. The doctor came down his face grim. "There's nothing I can do. She's lost her will and you can't make the unwilling, willing. I am sorry. Her state has deteriorated quickly and I give her just a couple days. I'd try to make her as comfortable in her last few moments as you can. My condolences."

Alexander never left her side and was with her as she took her last breaths and watched his love leave the world.

As the family went through her things, Alexander came across the cherrywood box with a rose carved into it he gave her, under her bed. He opened it and found every letter he had written her inside some with tear drop stains smearing the ink. Some tears of his own dripped down to mix with Rosanna's as he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his mother's last earthly possession. It was a simple ring with small roses carved into it, roses was his mother's and Rosanna's favorite.

"My mother wanted me to give this to the woman I'd spend the rest of my life with and a piece of my heart will always belong to you my dear Rose.", Alexander whispered as he kissed it and placed it inside the box. He hid the box away and when he met his death, it mysteriously disappeared, but really The Fates had taken possession of it for Alexander and Rosanna's story had yet to complete itself as their faded threads were still connected. They've always said Fate works in mysterious ways.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

It was a normal day as Evelyn Rosa Carter made her way over to her friend Phillipa's. Evelyn had just returned home from an out-of-state college where she got a degree in theatre and was looking to get started in the business. Phillipa was an actress who worked in the theatre arts and was currently working on her part in the upcoming production 'Hamilton.' Phillipa always gushed to her fellow cast mates about Evelyn and convinced Lin to give her a job helping out around the theatre.

Not that it was difficult to ask, since Lin was a friendly guy and was interested in meeting The Evelyn. As the two friends met up they headed to the theatre to begin Evelyn's first day. Everyone was happy to meet her and became fast friends. The minute Evelyn and Lin met though they both felt an instant connection with each other; it felt like they were coming home, as if a part of them they had been missing was finally being returned and they were whole.

Of course they were too shy to push past the comfort of friendship. When they made skin to skin contact by accident they would quickly move away and blush as the connection became strong. It was as if some unseen force was pushing them together.

One day Phillipa and Daveed wanted to get Evelyn out of her shell and convinced her to sing some of the songs with them so she decided to let her hair down and be free.

How does a bastard, orphan son of whore and a scotsman dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot in the Caribbean by providence and impoverished, in squalor grow up to be a hero and scholar?

Every one was shocked as Evelyn's voice rang out clear and beautiful as she harmonized well with Lin's through the recording they played for her at the end of a night of rehearsal after Lin had to rush off for a meeting of sorts. "Guys we need to get her to sing with Lin! She could be Phillipa's understudy! Not to mention her voice sounds amazing with Lin's, no offense Phillipa.", Daveed said as he came up with a plan. Phillipa took no offense and said she was in as long as they could try and set the two up.

" I think I speak for everyone when I say those two definitely have feelings for each other and they would be so darn cute together." Everyone agreed and a date was set.

"Ok this is the last one we promise. You just do such funny expressions when you sing this that I needed everyone else to see it.", Phillipa said as she convinced Evelyn to sing 'You'll Be Back' in front of everyone. It was no secret Evelyn adored the music and had praised Lin on his work, telling him how catchy the music was. He would get this cute little grin on his face when he would hear her gush about the songs. She was so glad to be a apart of the production and helped anyway she could. She also never went a day without complimenting everyone on their performance that day, making sure to let everyone know they were doing great, to keep spirits high and let them know their hard work was paying off.

Eveeyone had taken a seat and looked to the stage as Evelyn began.

"You say the price of my love's not a price that you're willing pay." As she sang she acted it out, throwing a fake cup of tea as she sang the lines, 'you cry in your tea which you hurl in the sea when you see me go by', getting laughs. Her voice paired with her silly actions while singing entertained everyone especially Lin who they told of Evelyn's singing skills and told him she was too shy in front of him when he asked why he'd never seen or heard her.

They had him stand in the back and watch her to surprise her. He enjoyed her little act, impressed in her acting and singing skills. Phillipa stood beside Lin and whispered to him, "This is my favorite part when she sings this song. It sounds so beautiful."

"You say our love is draining and you can't go on." As she hit the notes beautifully Phillipa and everyone watched Lin's expression, he was sold, hook, line and sinker. "You should sing a song with her!" Before he could refuse Phillipa insisted. "Yes! Ooh you both can sing 'Helpless'. We've all wanted to hear you guys harmonize, it sounded nice with the recording but the real thing would be something special. Plus, weren't you going to have her audition for my understudy? Well here is your chance!"

Once Evelyn finished, everyone clapped and Lin walked onto the stage. "That was amazing Evelyn! I never knew you could sing like that. I've been meaning to ask you to do this but Phillipa and everyone has made the opportunity tonight so how would you like to audition for Eliza's understudy?" Evelyn bkushed as Lin complimented her singing and then told her he wanted her to audition for an understudy part.

Before Evelyn could respond, everyone began chanting 'Do it'. Lin's kind soulful eyes burned into her blues as he offered her his hand. "You have no need to be embarrassed or shy. Judge free zone remember?", Evelyn laughed as Lin perfectly read her. She excepted his hand and everyone hooted and hollered. Evelyn smiled as Lin lead her to her start point and moved away to his. When Evelyn heard Helpless,' begin to play she breathed in deep and got into character.

She made sure her voice rang out clear. As she acted out meeting 'Alexander' for the first time it's like she's transported through time as she began seeing the scene as if it were happening in real time. What she didn't know was that she was getting her memories back. The cast watched as the two created undeniable chemistry on stage and were enthralled. What they didn't know was that the two were the reincarnations of Alexander Hamilton and Rosanna Schuyler being brought back together. Historians never talked about Rosanna due to no one knowing about how her death occurred so she was left out and Eliza got part of her story.

As the two begin to make the song a more intimate setting line two people finally finding each other, everyone left to give them their moment. As the song came to an end, Evelyn and Lin came closer together till their faces were inches apart. Their memories faded around them. Lin looked at Evelyn with a love so dazziling it was almost tangible. He clapsed her face in his hands. "My dear Rose. It is you."

She put her hands over his as tears began to fill her eyes, "My Alexander. I've missed you so much." Lin placed his forehead to hers. "I am so sorry my love. I never meant to hurt you. I can't explain myself nor do I expect you to forgive me."

"Oh Alexander. I had time to forgive you. I believe we have been given a second chance and I want nothing more than to spend this life with you. You may be Lin and I Evelyn in this life but we will always be Alexander Hamilton and Rosanna Schuyler."

"I want this with you as well my Rose."

He leaned down and connected their lips in a loving kiss. After over two centuries, Alexander and Rosanna finally got their chance at their true love and it was the most beautiful thing. Lin deepened the kiss as he buried his hand in her soft hair. Evelyn moved hers to his hair as well and they pressed close together. Needing air, they pulled away but kept their foreheads pressed together. As they looked into each other's eyes a golden light shimmered around them and as soon as it appeared it was gone and at their feet was a cherrywood box with a rose carved on it at their feet.

"That's where it went. The Fates sure work in mysterious ways.", Lin said as he bent down and picked up the box. He opened the box and Evelyn gasped. "I found it under your bed when you....I kept it because a part me has always loved you and I don't know why I asked for your father's blessing for Eliza's hand. I put this in there for you. I was going to give it to you before you left for London so long ago but I couldn't get enough courage to." Lin pulled out the ring. Evelyn's heart began to beat fast. "Lin-"

"It was mother's when I was Alexander. She wanted me to give it to the woman I'd spend the rest of my life with and I couldn't give it to Eliza, it never felt right so I put it in here for you. It was always yours." Evelyn let her tears fall down her cheeks as happiness filled her being. Lin slid it on her finger and he promised that this time around he would be everything to her if she would be his.

#alexander hamilton #hamilton #lin manuel miranda #alexander hamilton x reader #alexander hamilton x oc #lin miranda #lin manuel miranda x oc #hamilton fandom #hamiltrash #hamilton family

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beautifulramblingbrains · 6 years

Text

The Dog - Chapter 12

Fandom: Vikings Characters: Ivar, Ubbe, Hvitserk, OC (However brief they appear.) UbbexOC Rating: This is Mature content with multiple trigger warnings on a range of subjects.

A/N: Thank you, @murmelinchen, :). And thank you for all your continuing support.

First Chapter // 2nd Chapter // 3rd Chapter // 4th Chapter // 5th Chapter // 6th Chapter // 7th Chapter // 8th Chapter // 9th Chapter // 10th Chapter // 11th Chapter

Tags: @pathybo@sparklemichele@singingpeople@captstefanbrandt@equalstrashflavoredtrash@whenimaunicorn@kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995@emmysrandomthoughts@ariwolf14@bcat1291@tomarisela@romanchronicles @colours-of-my-heart @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lol-haha-joke@thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @tiyetiye @titty-teetee @microsmacrosandneedles (For some reason not all the tags are working, I’m sorry.)

At the Keep the days turned to weeks as they waited for word and sent out search parties for the Earl. Indra grew well and the northmen farmed the discarded crops of late winter vegetables. It almost felt like a reverie that they would be staying in a place such as they were for long. The Keep had been kept beautifully, the flowers had sprung and the courtyard bloomed with them even if a little wild and unkempt since their arrival.

And yet, Avery grew increasingly restless. Whether it was imagination or not, Ubbe had taken to teasing her. She'd uselessly tried to initiate his affection in the evenings only to be left to suffer. Maybe he was getting her back for all the times she refused him. Whatever it was, she couldn't work it out. But it didn't mean all of her attempts were a failure, and she knew it wouldn't take him too long to crack.

She'd been down in the kitchens, practising languages with Indra who was never too far, trying to help as much as she could - though she failed terribly at being domestic - when they'd requested Ubbe's presence. Avery said she would fetch him, knew he'd said something about resting in one of the many rooms. She'd raced up the twirling staircase, panting and out of breath, opening the door to the room they were staying in to find him in a bathing tub with a drink in hand.

"Ooh bear, they are asking for you…" she started, but he had his head tilted back, eyes closed, then took a sip of his drink calmly.

"They can all wait." When he moved the water sloshed, and he took another drink before putting it down beside him. "Join me, stulka."

"There's hardly room."

"There is enough room if you take your clothes off." He chanced a look as she stepped further inside and shut the door. "You seem mighty serious?"

Avery huffed and sat down beside him. "I'm frustrated-"

"Oh?"

"-because I'm not good at anything. I can't learn languages. It goes in one ear and straight out of the other. And when I get it completely wrong, Indra taps me on the arm. She knows I'm no good." Ubbe only smiled silently. "I'm useless in a kitchen. I had one job-"

"Which was?"

Avery frowned, pouting a little. "Stirring. But Indra was distracting me..."

Ubbe breathed in sharply as not to laugh. "It will come in time. But for now, there is warm water and a lap."

Avery's eyes darted towards the brim of the tub. In all the times he'd comforted her, never once did he ask anything in return. She'd stolen glimpses of him; all of him, as much as she'd dared to. "I've bathed already."

"Why are you so full of excuses? Is it because you fit too perfectly against me?" She smiled a little, a betraying one which he caught immediately. "Or do I need to order you?" Licking his lips, his thoughts were plainly written on his face.

"I don't take orders."

"I am aware." He took another drink, draining it, this time the decanter bouncing across the floor as he discarded it. "Please take your clothes off and join me. Now."

Her hands shook when she pulled at the laces, kicking off her shoes to the side. She gently tugged the dress halfway up her body when he spoke again, "Stand a little to the right, by the candle. It glows on your hips." With the dress gone, she complied, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Turn around. Slowly."

The light from the candle wasn't the only thing burning and imprinting her skin, but his gaze too. Even if she couldn't see him while she turned, she could sense it. Every glorious moment. She broke the unsaid rule and looked over her shoulder, suddenly stirred by the ends of her hair tickling her back. She felt voluptuous, wanted, powerful. That prompted her towards him.

Watching her beneath half hooded eyes, Ubbe's chest rose and fell quicker as she quaintly stepped into the tub. Reveling in the warmth, she sunk down, resting her knees comfortably either side of him. Being cradled by his body and position, she freely scoured his body and chest, tracing every muscle and scar as she went until he could no longer wait to taste her.

At the same time their lips met, he languidly rolled his hips up, finally meeting for the first time. But yet, he did not go any further. "This was a mistake…" he said, and Avery felt the pangs of rejection begin to prickle. "I can't control myself."

"Then don't."

"Avery, you're not thinking clearly." He pushed her hair back away from her face, letting the water trickle down her cheek.

"I am. I want to do what you do to me, to you. I want you to see stars. I want to hear you, feel you. I want to."

"Just wait a little longer," he said firmly, her expression dropping to disappointment. "There are other things you can do for me." He took one of her hands underneath the water until she brushed against him.

Sheepishly, she gripped a hold, following his prompt to slowly cater up and down his length. As she worked, he reached out and touched her breasts, his other hand gripping the side of the tub. He swore provocatively in his language, keeping her eyes, their lips brushing together. The room became a mix of steam and sweat, glistening on their faces, chests. A slosh from the water every now and again as she drew out his pleasure and impending release for the first time.

Indra had left the kitchens to find out what happened to Avery, as they still asked continuously for Ubbe. Though, she had assured them Avery was searching for him.

She was as quiet as a mouse, taking extra care her shoes didn't scratch the stone, that her dress didn't catch on the walls, nor that her breath mimicked a worked dog.

She had small marks mainly around her forehead from her healing that still itched every now and again, illuminated from the keyhole on the door she bent down to spy.

There in the middle of the room was the tub, where she could see the back of Ubbe's head, and Avery so clear to see straddling him. They weren't saying much, but it was evident what they were doing. Indra stood up, now breathless and put her back to the wall. Should she interrupt? Should she walk away?

Indra had always been into voyeurism, so she lowered herself for one more peek - so she told herself - and then clarified with her inner battles that she must carry on with her duties. Her glacier blue eyes were tainted with the glow and scene carrying on in the room in front of her.

"What are you doing?"

Indra stumbled back in shock, then frowned at Hendrick. "Be quiet, will you," she hissed.

He smirked, leant up against the stone wall in a cocky way. He pushed off, still watching her as she scowled angrily until he could take a look for himself. "Maybe you should knock and ask to join?" Thankfully, he kept his voice barely a whisper. He went to steal another look when she grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away.

When he straightened, just from her touch, his whole demeanour changed. There they stood, in the darkness of a Keep, in it's narrow halls, face to face when usually Hendrick fought to gain her attention. "I think of you every night."

"Stop," she snapped, turning and making her get away. She didn't manage to get far, just to the winding staircase but far enough not to be heard. For a big guy, Hendrick could move without a sound. He stopped her midstep and kept her against the wall so she couldn't run away. "This is absolutely insane." Indra threw her hands to her head, gripping the side of her braid in frustration.

"I know I'm not good at this love shit. I'm not going to give you pretty words. I am a monster. A horrible, disgusting monster. I know that. You are everything bright, light, and clear. I dream of the way your dress fits loosely against your collarbone, the way your hair falls, your eyes, every night." He exhaled agitatedly. "I know Hvitserk can not stand a chance with a woman like you. It's all show and front with him. He won't satisfy you… But I will! I won't overrule you if you want to bed another woman, another man. But I wish you do not speak of love with them either. And that I can be the one that you choose to come and speak to… about anything." He paused, hoping it was enough, because for a long moment she stared at him unreadably. There was no expression, no process.

Her fist connected with his nose. And with a rabid energy, she pushed him until he tumbled against the wall. "You should have thought about that before you decided to rape me. You are scum. I cannot love you. Ever. So stop following me!"

Blood dripped from Hendrick's nose, and he allowed her to take the rest of the stairs. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sounded nasally as he called, "You'll be back, Indra. You always are!"

Indra accompanied Avery on a walk around the grounds. The sky was growing angry overhead. It wouldn't be long until the heavens opened. But yet, they walked slowly, and stopped for Avery to pick flowers.

Days had passed without anything seeming to change. And at the edge of Avery's thoughts, was when Ubbe was going to finally marry her. Like some lovestruck girl, it's all she began to think about. And the more she did, the more she settled on the fact that she didn't want anything lavish, just the words and the connection.

"When do you think we'll leave?" she asked, and then looked back when Indra didn't reply. She was met with Indra twisting her hands together anxiously, staring out across the messy courtyard brimming with people coming to and fro. Eventually she caught on and almost jumped to life.

"Oh, erm, I haven't heard. I hear what you do. I'm with you mostly." When her chin tucked towards her chest, Avery couldn't help herself.

"Is something wrong? You seem far away."

"No, I'm fine," she said quickly.

"Indra, it's okay. You can tell me. I have no one to tell anyway."

Indra peered around, then stepped closer. "I think my elixir failed." It was obvious by Avery's expression she didn't understand. "I have missed a bleeding."

Avery's eyes dropped to her friends stomach. "Oh."

Tears welled in Indra's eyes. "I've been given a solution from one of the women but I have not taken it yet." Where Indra had been twisting her fingers together, there were red marks and scratches. She'd been thinking this over for days already and Avery simply hadn't caught on. "I am a thrall to the people. I am to take care of you. And that is not possible with a child. But..." She was shaking, and Avery laid a hand on her arm soothingly. "But I don't know if I should because I don't know who the father is."

"The last thing you should be doing is worrying about me," Avery said softly, then smiled at her. "Tell me what you want to do and we'll do it."

"I could be wrong. There is a possibility I am wrong. Since the attack I haven't had my full strength. But I don't know how much longer to wait." Indra took a deep breath. "I want to stay with you, Avery. I do not wish for a child. But if it is Hvitserk's and I knowingly banish the child, then he has every right to punish me for it or deny me and leave me with the child uncared for. You have to understand that it is wrong to banish a prince's child. But I think it is not Hvitserk's. In fact, I know it. Deep down, I know it is not Hvitserk's. If he finds out-"

"Let's not panic…" Avery said softly, though inside she was fitful. "You said you could also be wrong."

"Either way, I'd rather not risk it. I'm sorry to encumber you. This was not my intention. I am just cowardly."

"You are anything but. Let's wait a few more days, maybe you are wrong. After, we will get this sorted out if we need to."

Indra wiped her tears. "You are a good friend."

Avery woke on a day that already felt altered. Ubbe wasn't next to her, her fingers only feeling the plush furs and coldness when she searched. The storms that seemed to drag had passed to a glorious full spring. There was a breeze filtering through the room. And most bizarrely, it was the giggles from outside her very door that withered her last morsel of a sleeping head and ignited her awake.

Flattening her hair quickly, she let her legs drop from the bed, stretching her back. In her eyeline were flowers on a grand oak cabinet, entwined together, perfect to fit in one hand. Then there were petals scattered throughout the room of the floor.

The door slowly being pushed more open caught her attention, and when she clapped eyes on one of the thralls, five of them filtered in, Indra leading at the rear.

Avery was instantly suspicious. Perhaps she'd forgotten some special day and Ubbe would be annoyed with her. "What is going on?"

"Well…" Indra smiled, a ghost of her former self, and sat on the bed next to her. "... It's been hard trying to keep it from you."

Avery laughed nervously. "What?"

"We have orders. He told us yours was not an order but a request. To meet Ubbe outside the gates of the Keep, on English soil. Not a Keep or a town, just land, because…" she thought for a second. "Excuse me. He said because it was immortal?"

She remembered their conversation instantly. "So?"

"You want to be made a true woman with a husband?"

Avery jumped up from the bed. "Are you serious?! Today? But he didn't say anything..."

"Right now!" Indra giggled. "We needed time. We needed to make a special dress. Arrange the hall for the feast. You know, it's been hard to find a spare moment, for when it is safe. But we have not seen a saxon since we've been here."

In joy, Avery captured Indra's face and kissed her cheek, skipping over to the thralls busying themselves. From the trunk in the room they pulled a cream floor length dress, handmade to the best of their abilities and tools - given their circumstances. It was a mixture of materials, a floating look, parts lace, long sleeved.

"It's beautiful."

"I embroidered the butterfly," Indra said quietly, moving over to show her the smallest of details. "Because you saved me."

"And I would do it again." Avery rested her hand on Indra's.

There was only a few times Avery's stomach decided to somersault in her lifetime. Usually, it was fear or shock, a happiness on the off-chance. This… this was nerves.

She was led out with her girls who had washed and dressed her back at her room. Luckily, not all of the Vikings found Ubbe's untimely wedding interesting enough - or perhaps weren't ordered to join in. It didn't mean they couldn't stare as she passed through, heading towards the large gates and onto the open land.

But for the simplicity, she was glad. She didn't want to experience something grand, nor had any idea of what Viking weddings were like. In all fairness, she believed she didn't deserve it.

So the quieter the better. At the end of the day, Ubbe's demand on marriage had been more about her religion. Though, Avery seemed not to care for it when with him. But he must have seen the reserve afterwards, that flash of guilt. Complete intercourse was still a mystery however.

Once she had approached, no more than twenty people surrounding them, she took the final steps alone and took Ubbe's waiting hands. Her own shook, only making him grip them tighter. He looked dashing. An embellished green tunic, his leathers freshly oiled. She even noticed the fresh, clean-cut shave each side of his head, perfect braids that led down into his ever-growing ponytail.

"It is just us," he tried to make her envisage. It worked to an extent, but her cheeks still tinged with warmth and her smile was half of its usual. "I like your dress."

Avery scoffed nervously, picking at the skirt. "They tried to make it like a Christian dress. I think they did well."

"And you wear a crown of flowers… It suits you." Ubbe played with her fingers, twirled her around in his usual possessive manner as an older woman adorned in unique robing approached with a smile, dark makeup and paled lips.

The woman stood contently with a bowl of blood, but the two could not see her, for they only saw each other. Then she spoke, thickly tongued in Ubbe's language that could be anything to Avery. Ubbe answered quickly, without hesitation. Indra stepped up to translate the most simplest and easily answered questions. "She's asking if you are sure that you want to marry this man."

"Yes," Avery said as he hitched her closer to him by her hips, his forehead lowering to touch hers while they swayed. "Yes, very much."

Ubbe took a ring out from the bowl of blood offered to him, and slid it enthusiastically on her finger. A cheer went up. He cupped her face, stared into her eyes before kissing her.

The old woman called something which Avery as well as Ubbe weren't even aware of anymore. And Indra bowed her head. "Then it is done. May the Gods watch over you."

"You've come far, risked everything." Earl Edwin dipped his hands into a serving of chicken, popping the morsel in his mouth. "You're not fearful that we will try and kill you? Because that is still a possibility."

"I've heard rumours-" Sandaar began.

"So, all this way for rumours then? Tell me, how did you find me?"

Sandaar squared his shoulders and motioned to one of his men. He disappeared and came back with a young boy. "Word of mouth. Our current leader fails to retrieve such information from villagers. He is scared of a footprint they would make. Taking the work on his own back himself."

"And who is he?"

"Ubbe Ragnarsson."

The Earl smiled. "He sounds like a smart man."

"You have not bothered to reclaim your Keep…" Sandaar's voice rose aggressively. On this, the Earl put out his hand and offered him a seat at the table, much to the chagrin of the people around. Sandaar hesitated, eyeing everyone feraly, before cautiously taking a seat. "Why do you not attack?"

Edwin grunted as he sat up further, adjusting his cloak. "Ah, that is a very political question. Our new apparent King of England," he laughed, a wheezing sound, "thinks he has found a solution. Would you believe it… A compromise. Until it has been justified, we are drifting in a limbo. I could get into a lot of trouble. The King could be seen unfairly or unforgiving if word of my attack to a group of pillaging Vikings, who took my Keep from me, ferried around England on the days of rest. And we all know little birds fly and tattle tales."

"You speak in riddles," Sandaar spat, peering over his shoulder. "The only tales there are to tell would be the rescuing of a beloved neighbouring Keep's woman - a Christian girl. And how you had to defend your honour and your God."

"You know, you most certainly are right." Edwin's grey eyes twinkled, just like his fancy doublets collar peeking out from under his cloak. "What do you want from me? That is why you are here."

"Gold."

"In return you will counterfeit his defence?"

"My men won't raise a sword." Sandaar had no remorse. The red, thick scar on his face, and one on his neck, a prominent reminder. "And don't lie about your abundant treasures. You've stripped that place bare. I know because I have walked every hall."

"My earnings will not be taken by thieves to lead a life of leisure. All my hard work? I don't think so." Edwin took a sip of wine on the table, paused to trace his thoughts. "The girl. They call her the witch of Northumbria. She abandoned her people and God and aided you heathens to ransack a Keep with the rumour of another. Added with finding Benedict Biscop's rotting corpse, it's easier to believe it's true. An Earl simply doesn't just open his gates up for an attack. And that was what was most fascinating - so I hear. The heathens just strolled in without resistance. But… it begs me to question, how will I know if you will keep your word? And what benefits you?"

"You will just have to chance it and find out. For that, I will spare the details of your truly impressive camp here. I can sate my people that the attack was provoked and nothing to do with the new compromise the King is making. All it does is get an annoying dog off my back in the meantime, who shows such dishonour in even commanding an army."

"Sounds fair. But I want the girl alive so I can bring her before the people to serve true punishment." Edwin suddenly laughed, a distant tone to his voice. "Ha! Who knows! Maybe I will gain some recognition from this scandal."

"So, it is done?"

"A done deal."

Avery was seated upon Ubbe's lap as the drink flowed heavily. The tables were full with meats and various vegetables. He fed her by his own hand, kissed her lips after she'd drunk from her cup. It grew roudier as the night drew on, petals from her crown fluttering down when she moved. She felt the drink in her system, drinking more for her nerves.

Through all the background noise emitting around Avery she thought long and hard on her new duties as a wife - as a Vikings wife, while still being able to a gather a pleasing smile for the crowds and Ubbe when he would look at her. Some of her thoughts were tainted with fear of up and coming tasks. She didn't know much of what to expect, but the rules were uncommonly relaxed to which she believed it would be like to be with a man of christianity and faith towards England. But mostly she thought of how she should act now. She would be a patient and loyal wife. And she was patient, as she knew soon her virginity would be no more, and therefore her ties with her English way of life took root to her new Viking family.

She was still thinking of it when Ubbe tilted his head back to look at her, stopping her from finishing the cup she'd been nursing almost continuously. "Do you want to go to bed?"

That was the moment she had been waiting for. Maybe he could sense it - see the way her hands still shook from time to time and her inconspicuous fidgeting. Her stomach somersaulted again. But strangely, she giggled, igniting his smile. "If you want to sit here and drink all night, we can," he said. "Seems like you're enjoying yourself."

"No, no. Let's go to bed." When she stood, people glanced up from the table and a cheer cried out for the newly married couple. Ubbe waved them off, taking her hand and leading her into the halls, up the winding stairs. Before they got to their room, he picked her up and kicked open the door. He stumbled around tipsily until he reached the bed, Avery landing ungracefully, out of breath.

She didn't have time to think when he pulled her to sit up, yanking at her dress laces, pulling it over her head. "I have wanted this for weeks," his voice sounded huskily, at the same time languidly shrugging off his leather and tunic, kicking his boots off in a rabid desperation. Next was his belt that held up his pants. And when he exposed himself, his cock jumping free, Avery kneeled on the bed to level herself and kiss him.

She still wore the shedding flower crown, but nothing else, gasping with surprise as he urgently put his fingers to her, demanding her legs part wider while on her knees as he slid one, then two thick fingers inside her.

Then Ubbe slowed, looked into her eyes, lazily rocking his hand. "I won't hurt you."

"I know."

"But my intent is to lie with you tonight. Do you deny me?"

"No." She smiled shyly. "I have wanted this for so long."

He crushed his lips to hers, tasting of the ale they had drunk most of the night. Pushing her back and off balance, his weight sending a searing heat through her body as he clambered upon the bed and covered her. His mouth was frantic, needing. His fingers still inside her as he pushed her legs wider with his hips, eventually pulling away his hand as he fumbled between them.

Ubbe hesitated when the head of his cock pushed against her entrance, like he paused to check she was still comfortable. With no sign of resistance, he inched himself inside, piece by piece, sinking into her.

It was the sensation that every other encounter lacked. It caused her breath to hitch, her nails to dig sharply into his sides. To hear him groan, filtered away any other discomfort.

Many stories had been told to her that this was meant to be something a wife had to bear. That the pain had to be silenced. But she felt none but the instinct to pull him closer. Most stories came from women in the midst of betrothal to men they barely knew. This was different. Ubbe consumed her fully, everything about her life changing since she met him, finding her own person hidden beneath her lifelong fear. That thankfulness swelled in her stomach as she accepted him.

Perhaps it was love?

Perhaps it was love when he pulled back and pushed deeper. His hands clumsily pushing her hair away from her face, he shifted into a slow rhythm. She relished the stutter in his breath when he grabbed the furs beside her head into a fist.

Mumbling something in his poetic language, he easily pulled her up with him, until he was seated, her straddling him. He gazed at her appreciatively, wandering up her sides, down her back gently, encouraging as she gingerly rode him. She could move a certain way that pressed her clit just right that she lost herself, melting onto him.

It was so clear that Ubbe had tainted her through his meanderings, as now she knew what pleasing sensation she wished to seek, and she found it and chased it.

"Avery…" Ubbe gritted upon her lips in their hazy lovemaking, channeling restraint. But his voice was nothing compared to the tingle that beckoned below that she knew so well by now. That indescribable building - clashing and wanton - that urged to be broken down. Brittle but at the same time begging to be almighty powerful. It was far from consciousness but natural. Like holding a breath below water and suddenly coming up for air. A rush of relief. A place that took a person away to their own minds in complete harmony.

And this time she took Ubbe with her. Her breath hitched, delicate incomprehensible words escaping her lips, her pace slowing, and Ubbe released his seed. With his hands planted firmly on her hips he kept her down on top of him, rooting himself inside of her with his eyes closed.

Avery put her head to his shoulder, and rolled down to the side with him as they both collapsed in a bliss they could only call theirs.

#the dog #chapter 12 #Ubbe fanfiction #Vikings fanfiction #vikings #fanfiction #Ubbe fanfic #Ubbe x oc #slowburn #beautifulramblingbrains #Ubbe Vikings fanfiction

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indigo-rainn · 6 years

Text

Keep Me Close

Chapter 1 – Tidal

SUMMARY: When something goes wrong during Sasuke's two-year solo quest for redemption, Konoha launches a rescue mission to get him back. However, when things start to go south, the team struggles to make a decision: do they save their friend, or risk everything to prevent his skills from falling into the wrong hands? / SasuSaku, Team 7

A/N: Posted this originally on FFN, but I thought I’d share it here as well. I’ve been getting back into the fandom recently after many years away, and I love how quickly the SasuSaku feels came rushing back. <33 Can’t get enough of these two.

I hope you guys enjoy!

The lavender sky dipped itself into corals along its horizon, darkened just overhead to a touch below indigo. Stars winked on one by one within this shade, reflected too in the shimmering sea, joined by the stirring of an offshore breeze. The rush of waves against the sea cliffs below served as the only sound, spare the soft tapping of footsteps on the ledge above. They belonged to a passing shadow by the name of Sasuke Uchiha.

A gull cried overhead, and the raven-haired shinobi tracked its movements warily before the bird disappeared beyond the trees. His obsidian gaze fell back to the ocean – he hadn't been to the coast in years, and he had forgotten the loudness of it. The salt in his nose, the rush of the waves in his ears – it was all a distraction, a nuisance that he didn’t particularly care for. He could see the enjoyment of it, but now, at that moment he found it put him on edge.

Sasuke paused to pull a scroll from his pocket, and unfurled it on the ground. He yanked open a pen with his teeth, and scribbled his note. He scowled at the mess of it – writing was exceedingly difficult with one hand – and made an attempt at smoothing a few lines.

Kyreen ETA: midday tomorrow. Criminal org.? Q. harbor master. SU.

Sasuke whistled through his teeth as he rose to his feet, rolling the scroll as a bird circled. It landed evenly on his shoulder, ruffling its feathers and nuzzling his cheek with affection. He pushed the creature away from his face and set to tying the parchment to its leg. In a moment, Sasuke had finished, and the bird took off into the night toward Konoha.

During Sasuke's most recent visit to the village, Kakashi had been adamant about daily check-ins. He'd sat Sasuke down, given him a hard time about his "angsty aloofness," and told him to send a daily note. A spree of missing nin reports from fringe territories, coupled with a particularly grueling winter across the continent, had made the council anxious over any "key assets" still out in the field.

"I'm not particularly worried about your wellbeing, Sasuke, but we have to set an example here…" Kakashi had explained tiredly. "Plus, I want to keep track of you. I'm getting old. I'm already old. Allow me this."

Sasuke's expressions tightened as he set off along the coast once more. It was only later, after he'd overheard a conversation between Shikamaru and Naruto before leaving town, that he had realized that the village was more worried about his kekkei genkai falling into the wrong hands than they were for his safety. He smirked at the idea. As if he could be beaten in combat, let alone lose to someone who could then steal his eyes.

Not possible.

What he would do, however, was take out whoever was abducting low-level shinobi along the remote coast of the Mist. Whatever scum waited for him in the fishing village of Kyreen, he would tie them in a neat bow and deliver them to the nearest police force. Then he'd take the missing ninja from whatever cell they were being kept in, dust them off, and return them to their homes. It was a standard mission, something fit for a chuunin – or even Team 7, at their formation – but since Sasuke was already in the region, he volunteered to get it done on his own.

Sasuke settled into a brisk pace. He wanted to get a few more miles in before settling in for the night. His mind wandered.

After all this, he would return to Konoha. That was something he'd decided on, without ever really deciding. It just came to him one morning. He was bone tired, and his body felt ready to stop for a while. He needed to rest, and he needed to train – the constant walking had taken a toll on his physical strength, and that was something he disliked.

He also wanted to plan out the next phase of his mission, and for that he needed maps, intel and, perhaps, a partner. A quiet, unexpected smile lifted his face in the dark.

Sasuke continued walking through the dark for some time. When he grew tired, he shielded his chakra, walked into the forest some ways, and pulled out his sleeping pad beneath an old oak tree. In a moment, he was asleep beneath his blanket.

Sakura sat on the porch at her home, wrapped in her thick down comforter. Ino was next to her, and together they stared out over the village, sipping on mugs of herbal tea. The lights twinkled, and the bubble of people leaving their various places of work grew quieter.

"This is way less fun with tea than wine. Do you have a bottle open?" Ino blurted finally, plopping her mug down and standing up from her seat. She cracked her back to the side, and then the other, and turned to go inside.

"No, but there should be an unopened bottle on the counter. Beers in the fridge too," answered Sakura. Ino disappeared inside: "You want one?" she called out. Sakura looked back and shook her head. Ino made her way back and curled up in her seat again, overfilled glass in hand.

"What's got you so down?" she asked, taking a long sip of the red, and eyeing her strawberry-haired friend. Sakura was never one to decline wine, especially when it was just the two of them.

"I don't know," she said after some time, sipping her tea. Then, after another pregnant pause: "The holidays are hard, sometimes. The hospital has been so quiet lately, and everyone splits off with their person after. The fact that I am totally alone hits home a little harder than usual. You know? It's just me and the cat. And it's not even my cat."

As if in answer to being spoken about, an orange calico slunk out from the apartment onto the porch. It sat between them, made a sound that was a cross between a meow and a belch, and hopped up onto the railing. The cat didn't really belong to anyone – it had followed Sasuke to the house one day, and never left. Now it required feeding and constant attention.

"You're not totally alone," said Ino. "He might not be here right now, but he's yours."

"Don't be ridiculous. He's been here a grand total of twelve days over the past ten years. And five of those days were in prison…" muttered Sakura. "And besides, he is absolutely not mine. Not anyone's. Running around the globe without a care in the god damn world. He's the worst sometimes."

"But, also, the best."

"…Yeah."

Sakura ran her finger along the rim of her mug absently, the taste of ginger on her lips. Ginger tea was his favorite, bizarrely enough. A calming tea, for one of the least calm people she knew of. Fitting, in his own ironic way. She closed her eyes, biting her lip hard.

She had never really known Sasuke, for all of those years she spent on his team, and then searching for him when he left. She thought she did, but she didn't really. Maybe there wasn't much to know, apart from the all-consuming revenge complex, and now that he'd had time to grow, there was a lot to him. All of these little facets and interests and hobbies that seemed odd when connected to someone of his prowess, but formed a part of him all the same.

Like the fact that he loved to paint. She'd left her watercolors out one evening when he'd popped through town, and he had settled into them while she'd stepped out to change as if he'd been painting all along. When he left, she'd put his finished picture up on the fridge – a cherry blossom tree, in full bloom. Now it was framed in her room.

"Sakura?" Ino murmured.

"Yeah?"

"It'll be okay. He'll be home soon," she said, setting her wine down momentarily to wrap her arms around her friend's shoulders with an affectionate squeeze.

"Love you, Ino. Thanks," said Sakura. Ino nodded, and threw up her arms in a big yawn.

"Aaand now that we're finished moping, can we please watch that reality show everyone's been talking about?"

"Only if you promise not to pause it every time that one guy comes on screen." They laughed, gathered up their blankets, and retreated indoors. The cat followed in behind them as a light snow wandered down from the sky.

Sasuke watched the town of Kyreen bustling about from a safe distance, assessing the layout before making his final approach. It was mid-morning, and the village looked nearly the same as every other town he'd passed along the coast, nestled against an inlet with a single dock and a disheveled collection of dinghy's bobbing in the water. There were more buildings in Kyreen than the last town he'd passed through, however. From his vantage in a tree, he counted ten residential homes as well as several shops clustered in a circle around an open market area. A low fence circled the town, with an open gate to the main road. Someone had stuck a hand-painted "We welcome travelers!" sign next to the entrance.

Nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary. The ebb and flow here was standard – fisherman went out on their boats, came back with their catch, unloaded, and their wives exchanged the catch in the town square for grains and baked goods and whatever else there was available. The smell of smoked fish filled the air. Happy dogs lounged about in the sun, and children played along the water's edge.

Sasuke picked out the harbor master's house without too much difficult – it was the largest residential building, and had a somewhat new coat of paint. The man who Sasuke suspected to be the harbor master was just inside, his chakra signature seated at a table in the main room. A few weeks ago, this same man had sent an urgent letter to Konoha. Of the twelve shinobi that had gone missing, four had been stationed in or around this town, and one of those three was the master's own son. The town was scared, and thieves would soon circle.

Sasuke dropped from his perch to the ground, gathered his cloak around him, and made his way toward the town. Although snow had not yet fallen, the bite of winter lurked in the air, and the people he passed as he entered town were bundled in furs. Seal furs, by the look of it. Despite the cold, everyone was quite friendly and, were it not for his silence, would have happily engaged him in conversation and perhaps asked him to tea. He found it uncomfortable.

He approached one of the market stalls he'd picked out from afar, run by a very elderly woman selling assorted rice balls. She perked up when he stepped forward.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" she gushed, pulling back her curtain so that he could get a good look at what she had made for that day. Fish, crab, chicken, with various spices for each. He pointed at the fish one, and she grabbed two, wrapping them in a fabric napkin. She handed them to him delicately, and he passed her a few bills.

"I've got a chair over here, if you'd like to sit," she offered as she plopped herself into one of two Adirondack chairs beside her stand. He joined her, nibbling on one of the rice balls. It was surprisingly rich.

"Thank you," he murmured. She nodded and laced her fingers together, looking at him up and down with curiosity. She was a short woman, with dark leathered skin and long fingers. Her hair was wild and gray, pulled back in a messy bun, stuck with beads and braids and at least one feather.

"What brings you to town?" she asked finally. "We don't get many handsome young men passing through these parts."

When Sasuke blanched, she quickly continued: "Oh, wipe that expression off your face. I'm not trying to set you up with my granddaughter or anything silly like that! Just making conversation. Finish your food, child."

He did as he was told, and turned to watch the market bustle about them as he ate. He liked this old woman, as old and grizzled and off-her-rocker as she was.

"Tell me about the harbor master, if you would," he said after a time of silence, turning back toward the woman. She blinked, then leaned back in her chair.

"His name is Enko. Good man, yessir," she answered slowly. "He treats the whole town like family. Every one of us. Good man."

"Go on." The hesitation in her voice spoke volumes.

"Well, his son went missing a few weeks ago. He was a kid, just out of the academy up the coast. He was back visiting, and went into the woods to pick some herbs with his mum. They never came back – the wife was a bloodied mess, cold when they found her. The son had just vanished into thin air." As she told the story, her hand involuntarily moved to her chest, where it clasped a pendant around her neck. "Enko doesn't leave his house much anymore, really. Can you blame him? Nothing like this has happened here before. A week later, two more kids are gone. Another just a few days ago. It's all going to hell."

"Can you tell me more about the kids?" Sasuke asked after a long pause, when it appeared that the woman had caught her breath. "How old were they? Skill level?"

"Enko's son, Dan, was not quite 14. I used to watch him when his parents were busy. Scrappy kid, dark hair and dark eyes. The others were older, all teenagers. The most recent was in his 20s – he had one of those green vests that ninja wear. They were all good kids… I don't know why someone would do something like this."

Sasuke folded and refolded his napkin in his hand, a feeling of unsettledness rising in his gut. He wanted to speed this up. He asked for the woman's name.

"Gana. And yours?"

"Sasuke." He stood and offered her his hand, which she shook gratefully. Then, he turned and trudged toward the harbor master's house.

Sakura sat on her desk at the front of the class, watching her students scribbling away. Exam day was an easy day for a teacher, but a frustrating day for a doctor. Her time felt wasted watching over these kids write – she wanted to be in the ICU, helping her burn victim from the day before. She glanced out the window, the sun shining brilliantly against the newly-fallen snow.

One by one, the students handed in their papers, thanked her, and headed out to enjoy a few weeks of the class-free holiday break. She didn't blame them – her class was known for being one of the most intensive in the Konoha medical school.

Sakura locked up the classroom behind her, exams in hand, and slipped into her office. She dropped off the exams in the TA's box, grabbed her bag, and headed to the hospital wing at a fast clip. She pushed through the double doors, and the rush of beeping monitors and nurses brought her immediate ease. She changed into her scrubs mechanically, dropped her bag in a cubby, and dove into the fray. Within minutes, she was setting a child's arm, and then healing a puncture wound from an exercise-gone-awry, and then back to setting another broken arm.

"Here, I want you to hold up your good arm like this. Okay?" Sakura raised her hand, and the five-year-old she was treating mimicked. It was a way to distract. "Perfect. Hold that there, and I'll be right back with your new armor!" I.E. a splint for his wrist.

She turned, her tray of scalpels and bandages in hand, and froze midstride. At first it was just a pain in her chest. A white-hot pain that snatched her breath. Then it spread, in a blindingly wild fire, filling her with a fear and a horror that was not her own. Her body trembled violently, and she tried to open her mouth but couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. Then, the screaming. The most viscerally horrible screaming she'd ever heard – a tortured screaming, agony over and over again in her ears, more agony than she'd experienced – ringing in her ears like a violent drum. Screaming. The tray clattered to the floor, tools flying in all directions. She crumpled against the wall, covering her ears, but couldn't get away. Tears leaked from her eyes as she sunk to the floor, nurses crowding around her as she curled into a ball on the linoleum. She couldn't hear them over the screams. Screams that, as she was forced to listen, she knew she recognized.

Then, all at once, it stopped.

Enko, the harbor master, eagerly led him into the kitchen. Although his eyes were gray – the kind of deep gray one gets from prolonged grief – he smiled pleasantly, and showed Sasuke around the main level of his house as any good host would. He was a stocky man, with thick arms and a thick white beard. His clothes were simple, his demeanor equally so. A fisherman, who'd lost his wife and son, trying to make things right.

"Can I interest you in some tea?" asked Enko, after offering Sasuke a seat at the kitchen table. He nodded, and Enko busied himself at the kettle. Sasuke, meanwhile, took a moment to examine the room.

The house was simple enough – very little decorations, no paintings or photos or anything like that. Old floral wallpaper, a few trinkets on the shelves, and simple furniture. He sensed no other chakra signatures in the house, and he checked to make sure.

Enko set two mugs on the table, and took a deep sip of his own. "I hope you like green," he said quietly, glancing up at Sasuke for nervous affirmation. Sasuke thanked him, and sipped at the drink. It was warm and delightfully bitter. Although not his favorite, it would certainly do.

"Tell me everything," Sasuke said quietly, folding his hands in front of his face and leaning in.

Enko talked at length, repeating much of the information offered by the woman at the stand. He was out fishing for the day, his son visiting home after being away from some time. They went out to the forests to forage, and never came back. Enko stared into his mug, his demeanor saddening as he pressed on.

Sasuke made a sorry attempt to stifle a yawn as the man spoke. He was very tired – he had slept poorly the previous night. He took another sip of his tea and shook his head to clear himself.

"Can you tell me more about your son? How old was he?" Sasuke managed as Enko stood and moved into the kitchen. He took out a few biscuits from a cupboard, and set to arranging them on a plate.

"He was a good boy. Tall, smudge of dark hair. Bright brown eyes, like his mum. Terrible at taijutsu, but he had a knack for substitutions. Best in his class!" Enko seemed to lose his train of thought, before picking it up again. "He was eighteen."

Eighteen? Why did that seem wrong?

Sasuke sat back in his chair. His head was swimming, he couldn't think. Something was wrong. His eyes flicked up to glare at Enko, and found the man watching him closely, an odd gleam to his eye. Sasuke tried to stand up, and stumbled back. His body felt heavy and unresponsive. He squeezed his eyes shut, but found his mind unable to keep a straight thought. He gripped the edge of the table with his hand such that his knuckles turned white, mustering all he had to stay steady.

"W-what the hell did you do to me?" he growled through gritted teeth.

He could sense Enko rushing toward him, but it was at a lag. He tried to gather up his chakra, but the threads evaded him. Something heavy rammed into him, and he fell back hard onto the wood floor. He tried to activate his eyes, but couldn't. He tried again, and the familiar red swam before his vision, but slowly. At a lag. This is bad.

A feral instinct took over, and he drove his knee into the person that had attacked him. Everything was blurry, he couldn't see anything at all. He could feel the edges of his senses going black – he was passing out, that much he knew – and fury lanced through his limbs at the thought of it. He forced his chakra through, and didn't realize until after that he was screaming. At once he could see, and his Mangekyou slid easily into place –

But it was too late. He looked down, only to see that he was standing in the middle of a seal on the floor. A seal for blocking his abilities. There were seals everywhere, actually, and he was in the middle of them all. And they were glowing, in the midst of activating, seconds away from sealing his abilities away. An ambush. A fucking perfect ambush.

Rage consumed him. Screaming in fury, he lit fire to the room. The black of unconsciousness closing in on him, he sent black flames everywhere. Burn in hell, burn in hell, burn in hell–

A blinding light swallowed the room as the seals finished activating. His screams turned from fury to pain. He collapsed in a writhing heap, unable to see or feel or think apart from the pain inflicted by the seals. And then he was out, limp on the floor as the enemy scrambled to cart him away.

End of Chapter 1! What’d you think?? I will upload the rest of the chapters here soon, but if you’re dying to read more now, you can find up through Chapter 5 here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12764887/1/Keep-Me-Close

Thank you for reading!

xoxo

Indigo

#sasusaku #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #sakura #sasuke #naruto shippuden #naruto #team7 #sasusaku fanfiction #fanfiction #KeepMeCloseSS

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concussed-to-pieces · 7 years

Text

Only One

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Chris Jericho/Unnamed OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirst Party Saturday Crew, welcome aboard once again! And welcome to my first shot at writing the gift that is Jericho! Tagging our usual suspects, @tox-moxley, @oraclegazes and of course, Captain @hardcorewwetrash! Enjoy!

!TRIGGER WARNING!: This will contain a few allusions to significant (around twenty years) difference in age.

‘The List of Jericho.’

It was perfect. The lettering on the back was precise, the metal of the clipboard polished to a silver sheen. He would start off with ten sheets of the nicest lined paper he could get his hands on, and a pen that felt good to write with.

Chris Jericho was a man on a mission, accosting interns and stagehands and demanding to try their pens. Where else did you get pens these days, really? Kevin had rolled his eyes at his antics but what did he know?

Finally. After what felt like months (and was probably only three days or so) one pen scribbled across his test page and he stopped dead. Perfect. He wasn’t even sure where he’d gotten it. The interns and stage hands were apparently tired of his search and had started hiding their pens from him, or offering him inferior ballpoints. But this one. It sang on the page, the ink cobalt blue and vibrant. Jericho was hooked.

The List grew quickly, as the hunt for the perfect pen had hindered its advancement. Chris had the feeling that he would be doling out punishment for the foreseeable future. He wasn’t really paying attention to how fast he was burning through ink, until one night the pen ran dry as he was trying to write Tom Phillips in. Panic struck him. Without the pen, his List was nothing!

A hand suddenly snatched the pen from his grasp and Jericho made a despondent noise.

“So that’s where my pen went! What the heck, Mr. Jericho?” It was one of the stage hands. Chris could never remember their names, all of them blurring together into a mass of black polo shirts and coffee cups with his name on them. “And of course, you wrote it empty. Great. Now I have to get another one. Like having to borrow pens from everyone else for a week wasn’t bad enough.” She grumbled.

Jericho perked up. “Get another one? Where? How much? Can I give you like. Money and you can get me more of those pens?”

“Considering the fact that you stole this one, no. Get one of the other guys to do it.” She snapped angrily.

Oh. I have to apologize if I want anything done. Chris cringed. He wasn’t particularly fond of apologizing. The idea of him doing anything that would actually require an apology was pretty laughable. “I uh. I’m sorry. I don’t actually know where I got ahold of that pen. I promise I didn’t lift it off you. I would remember.” A little flattery never hurt anyone. “It just writes so well, and I needed the perfect pen for my List.”

She huffed, but Jericho noticed her cheeks pinking up. “…how many of them do you need?” She asked finally, crossing her arms over her chest.

Chris blinked. He hadn’t expected her to cave so quickly. Still got it, Jericho! “How big of a pack do they sell them in?”

“I think they have ten packs-”

“Get me six of those. I’ll…here hang on.” Chris dug his wallet out of his tight jeans. “How far away is the store, I’ll factor in gas.”

She looked at him, seeming bewildered. “You want sixty pens?”

“You’re right, shit. More than that. Just…if they’ll sell you a whole box, get me that. I need these pens, man.” Chris appreciated her intelligence. Obviously she understood the importance of his List. “How soon can you get them? Can you get them tonight? Or do you have to still do chairs and all that?”

“I-I should be able to run out real quick. We’re set for chairs and matting the area. I’ll definitely be back before you’re called, okay?” She replied, flinching when Jericho grabbed her hand and pressed a few crumpled fifty dollar bills into it. “Oh, this is way too much Mr. Jericho, they’re only like-”

“You’re doing me a huge favor, just hurry.” Chris said impatiently. “Unless you want me to put you on the List too!”

She cracked a smile at that and Chris felt his stomach do an odd backflip. “Oh no, oh hell no. That’s a fate worse than death. I’ll be back with your pens. And your change.”

She returned within the hour, a little out of breath when she showed up with a large box and a coffee at he and Kevin’s shared dressing room. Chris was thrilled, there were even different colors! Imagining the possibilities, the fresh new organization of his List, he balanced the box and coffee on one arm and shook her hand fervently. “Thank you.” He was half-surprised that he actually meant it.

“It wasn’t any trouble. I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier.” She apologized, her smile a little more sheepish this time. “Having a kind of tough day.”

“What happened?” Chris had no idea why the hell he asked that, what did he care?

She waved him off anyway. “I won’t bore you with that crap. Receipts and change are in the box. Enjoy your pens. Don’t steal any more of mine, okay?”

“Absolutely not. I…thank you.” Jericho didn’t understand why he felt awkward. “I uh. I hope the rest of your night goes a little better.”

“Thank you! Um, good luck. With your list.”

It wasn’t until after the show that Jericho, gathering up his personal items, realized that she’d ordered herself a coffee as well when she got him one. Huh. He studied the receipt, not sure why at first. Chris clicked his fresh pen in his hand a few times, then flipped to the last page on his clipboard and began to write.

…

The look on her face when he sought her out on the following Monday was incredibly gratifying. Chris felt warm all over as she stammered and accepted the cup of coffee. “How’d I know your order? It’s a secret. I know everything.” He grinned.

One of the other stage hands hollered at her to “stop flirting and get a move on!”, his loud voice making her jump.

“S-Sorry, I have to-” She started to apologize but Chris was already clicking a new pen. The ink in it was red as Raw and he shuffled his papers around until he found a bit of free space.

“What’s that guy’s name.”

“Mr. Jericho-”

“What’s. His. Name.” Chris was confused at his own angry reaction but figured he’d roll with it. His instincts were usually pretty decent.

“Gary, but you don’t-”

“Hey Gary!” Jericho called loudly, making the other man look up. With a wide flourish of his arm Chris gestured down at his List. “You just made the List, buddy!”

Gary shook his head, grunting something under his breath and stomping off. “He’s one of the senior stage hands, Mr. Jericho. You probably shouldn’t have upset him.” She said quietly.

“He shouldn’t have interrupted me! And neither should you, I was in the middle of doing something.” Chris attempted to sound stern as he continued writing ‘Gary’. “I told you, I’ll put you on here if you don’t watch it.”

“Oh no, don’t put me on the List. Oh gee.” Her sarcastic tone made Chris grin. When he looked up and saw her smiling too, his stomach flip-flopped oddly. She cleared her throat after a second, dropping her eyes to the coffee in her hand. “Thank you again for the coffee, Mr. Jericho. You didn’t have to.”

“I know.” Jericho tried for his usual cocky smirk, but it felt a little too soft. He turned on his heel and headed off, loosening his scarf around his neck as he left.

…

It occurred to him as he was preparing for the show that he might…just might, have an...interest.

“An interest that is not entirely platonic.” Kevin deadpanned from the couch in their dressing room. “In layman’s terms, you’re into her.”

Jericho huffed at him, straightening out his jacket. “What would you know, you’re wifed up.” He pointed out childishly. “So I get her coffee sometimes, what’s the big deal?”

“You know her order by heart and you almost ripped that guy at the Tim Hortons in half because he fucked it up. Which means you’ve tasted her order before, if only to ensure quality. You put the drink guy and that Gary guy that you said yelled at her on your List.” Kevin rattled off, looking bored.

“I put a lot of people on the List!” Jericho protested.

“Mm, but not dumb, random people.” Kevin leaned back, lacing his fingers together behind his head. “Face it, you’ve got it bad.”

“I didn’t ask you, did I?”

“Don’t have to. We’re partners. I know these things.” Owens yawned, ever the picture of insolence. “You’re also an open book. You’d think that after being in this business for so long you would have learned how to act a little better. I grew up watching you and I thought you were a badass. But now…”

“I’m sorry I don’t enjoy stifling my existence like you do, Owens.” Chris replied haughtily, focused on wrapping his scarf just right so it wouldn’t fall off.

“It’s not stifling it, I’m kinda’ private is all. Everyone doesn’t need to know my business. They’re not really here for me anyway, they’re here for an angry guy who yells a lot and gets frustrated.” Kevin shrugged. “That’s not me all the time, but that’s what they’re here for. I’m not saying it’s bad that you’re interested in someone, Chris. It’s just...out of character. You’ve got the rockstar look and personality, but none of the games behind it.”

“Tell me how you really feel Kevin, yikes.”

“Okay, I think you need to go ask her out before something happens. I don't want to deal with you hang-dogging around and cluttering up our List with boyfriends that aren't even yours.” Kevin said plainly, giving Chris's shoulder a shove. It wasn't exactly a fond gesture, but Chris knew that he meant well.

Probably.

…

Jericho realized what Owens was talking about, seconds too late. He stood in the doorway of the bar, pretty sure that his face was an unfortunate shade of purple.

He had spotted her backstage earlier in the night, and his stomach had clenched because she wasn't wearing the usual black polo. Instead, she wore a shirt he knew far too well, the black one with the red raised fist that stated RAW IS JERICHO in blocky lettering. He'd meant to say something, but Kevin needed to speak with him and then he lost sight of her. And now he was too late, too damn late. She sat at the bar, smiling and laughing with one of her male coworkers. She looked so good wearing his merch. She had no right to torment him like this, what the heck had he ever done to her?!

Oh, the pen thing. He cringed. I did kind of say I was sorry, should have put more effort into it. Chris made up his mind. He was Chris goddamn Jericho! The Lion Heart! Master Of A Thousand And Four fucking Holds! He wasn't about to be upstaged by some hipster kid half his age, probably drinking wheat tea or some shit like that. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he all but swaggered to the bar and sat down on the barstool beside her. “Come here often, gorgeous?” He asked, barely able to keep a straight face when she quickly turned around.

“Chris! Um, I mean Mr. Jericho. H-How are you?” She twiddled her fingers, seeming flustered. “I...I didn't expect to see you here.” Her coworker, obviously understanding that he was outmatched, bid her goodnight and gave Jericho a knowing wink over her head.

Chris barely resisted the urge to snarl at the other man, hastily redirecting his attention to her. “You can call me Chris, if you want. I won't tell.”

“I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have...that was really unprofessional of me.” She apologized.

Jericho chuckled. “I think I busted through that issue when I started picking up coffee for you, princess.” He pointed out, “I'm not exactly the most professional guy on the roster. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you. I...I try not to be star-struck. I think I did pretty good, all things considered. I...” She paused when Jericho's hand landed on her knee, swallowing hard. “Sorry about the shirt. I've had it for ages.”

“Why the heck are you apologizing?” Chris asked, genuinely puzzled.

“It's like a cry for attention, Mr. Jericho. Super unprofessional! I just...” She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt for a second. “I like being noticed every once in a while, you know?”

“Who doesn't notice you? They're going on my List.” He threatened.

Her grateful smile made his throat tighten. “You're so sweet. Thank you, Mr. Jericho.”

“Just call me Chris from now on, okay? Because if you keep calling me Mr. Jericho after this beautiful talk we’ve had, I’m gonna’ put you on the List.” When the hell had his voice dropped into that lower register?

“…Alright. Chris.” She said his name slowly this time, like she was savoring it.

Chris felt a shiver traipse down his spine and he barely kept from raking a hand through his hair. He hadn’t had it long enough to do that in years, why the heck would he return to that now?

They sat at the bar for quite a while, talking about damn near everything. She gave him numerous openings to talk about himself and he was only too happy to oblige, recapping year after year spent in the professional wrestling and musician ranks.

“I’ve always wanted to do this, you know. I mean, not work backstage necessarily, but I wanted to learn from the ground up. I know a lot of people think that as long as they’re physically fit they have a shot and they just don’t get it, you know? It’s about so much more than the stunts. Nothing would happen if it wasn’t for the road crew, for the tech guys and the makeup girls. Coming in at the lowest level made me appreciate that.” She spoke with such conviction, practically rambling when he asked her why she’d gotten into the business.

Jericho was abruptly reminded of a much younger him forcing Goldberg into a front facelock for insulting his mother. He’d felt passion like that once, like traveling to the next city and the itch under his skin to compete, to learn and grow and show everyone what he could do was everything, was the only thing.

Somewhere along the way though, something had happened. Shit, now he couldn’t even buy his own pens. Coffee was a necessary struggle but that didn’t stop him from abandoning one drive-thru in search of another if the line was deemed too long. Maybe Kevin was right. Maybe he had gotten soft. Jericho wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

She seemed to notice how quiet he’d gotten, a gentle hand covering his own on the bar. “Hey, did I say something wrong? Am I being annoying?”

“No no! Sorry, shit. It’s not you.” Chris tried for his confident smirk but he was pretty sure it looked like a grimace. “I just...headache, you know how it is.”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I should probably let you get some sleep then. I didn’t mean to keep you this long, anyway. You ought to know better than let me talk.” She joked.

Chris shook his head, holding her hand in his own. “I like listening to you. I’ve had a great time tonight.” The fact that he kept meaning the shit that came out of his mouth was both confusing and relieving. He’d felt fake for so long that it seemed normal.

She went bright red, stammering something that he didn’t catch when Chris pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Jericho stood, straightened out his coat and offered her his arm. “May I walk you to your car, madame?”

…

He didn’t expect it, which should have made it hurt so much more. But as Kevin stood over his body putting on that show of rage that only he could sell, Jericho just felt numb. Zayn had warned him. He’d warned him with that sad look in his eyes, one of his shoulders dipped lower than the other.

“Kevin doesn’t have friends anymore, Jericho.”

Chris had wanted to believe he was different. He was obviously a better choice than Sami, that was why Kevin had latched onto him. It definitely wasn’t because he was stupid or easily manipulated. Nope.

Tears burned his eyes as he made his way backstage, shoving past people in a useless bid to escape Kevin’s harsh actions. All his things were in the hotel room he and Kevin shared, and of course Kevin had the damn key. Chris wanted to scream in frustration. He was hurt and tired and he just wanted to go to bed and forget this terrible fucking day, this absolutely shit day.

“Chris?”

Of course. Jericho closed his eyes for a second, one hand still on the door to the outside as he sucked in a breath. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” She was worried. That shouldn’t have made him angrier but so soon after what had happened it hit Jericho like a slap to the face.

“Fuck you! 'Are you okay?' Of course I ain’t okay! Get bent princess!” He exploded, whirling on her like a cornered animal. The door was right fucking there, he could leave. “I thought he was my best friend! I let him play me like a goddamn violin! Do you have any idea how pissed off I am right now?! Do you?!” He didn't know when he'd gotten so close to her, practically crushing her to the wall with his body. “Have you ever had something like this happen to you? Please, fucking inform me why the hell I would be okay right now!”

“Chris, I...” She wouldn't look him in the eye so he jerked her chin up.

“Fucking answer me.” Chris demanded. He knew he wasn't actually mad at her, but shit, it made him feel a little less furious if he pretended he was. He would willingly beat the shit out of Owens. He would never hurt her. It helped. Barely.

When she did finally make eye contact with him though, Chris felt like he'd been bounced off the apron again. She didn't look scared, thank God, just nervous. Concerned. “Chris?” She asked softly.

“Shit, I...I'm sorry.” He apologized, lifting his hands and moving to step away. Her arms wrapped around his waist, tugging him back in against her. One of her hands cupped the nape of his neck, the other curled up on the small of his back. She was hugging him.

“Do you have someplace to stay for the night?” She asked softly after a few minutes of silence.

Chris shook his head no. It was taking most of his strength to keep from slumping over and pinning her to the wall in the process. His temper had evaporated, leaving him bone-weary and more than a little ashamed of himself. “Kevin has the key to our room.”

“Here. Take mine. It's nothing fancy, but you can at least sleep some of this off.” She offered, fumbling for her wallet and pulling her hotel keycard out. “You're lucky. I usually have to share a room with someone.”

“N-No, I can't--” Jericho wanted to protest, wanted to drive over to that goddamn hotel and camp in the hallway next to his fucking room until Owens showed up. “Princess, I can't do that to you. I'll be alright.”

“Like hell you will, you're distraught and you're obviously not thinking clearly. I have a spare key, I'm not going to be back in for a while at the rate that this show is going.” She planted her palms on his chest and carefully pushed him towards the door. “Now go. Before some other stupid bullshit happens.”

…

Her hotel room only had one bed. Jericho felt dumb, obviously he should have gathered that. He really, really wanted to shower, but the idea of putting his dirty clothes back on made him grimace. Maybe he could wash his boxers in the sink or something, dry them with the blow dryer. It seemed almost barbaric. He hadn't had to do that in ages, usually armed with a suitcase full of clean clothes.

Chris opened the door to the bathroom and stopped dead at the sight of the bright goddamn red, lacy panties that hung over the shower curtain rod. The matching bra beside them just added to the processing time. Well, that's something to think about. He blinked, hand reaching for the panties before he could stop himself. They're fucking small. Cute. I should not be touching these.

Jericho snatched up the bra and draped both items over the towel rack hastily, feeling unnaturally worried that someone might see him. He was a grown ass man for fuck's sake! Couldn't a grown man pick up a set of underwear? An attractive set of underwear? That should be attached to an equally attractive woman, preferably so he could take it back off? Fuck, stop it! Chris scolded himself, stripping his shirt off over his head and unbuttoning his jeans.

His hot shower soothed away some of the aches and pains in his body and reminded Jericho that he was fucking exhausted. He barely had the energy to move from his comfortable position against the shower wall, stumbling out of the tub. He wrapped a towel around his waist and gave his boxers a once-over in the sink, having to shake himself awake a few times even as he did it. Usually he didn't feel his age but tonight he was painfully reminded, head and lower back pounding in tender sync. Chris stared dully at himself in the mirror for a minute, hands full of sopping-wet boxer shorts.

“Go to bed, man.” He finally said aloud, waving off his reflection and fumbling with the hair dryer. His boxers were maybe a little damp when he was done, but he just could not stay upright for any longer.

He vaguely remembered that she came in at some point well after midnight, the shaft of soft light from the hallway momentarily rousing him. He groaned, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow.

“Shh, it's just me.” Lips pressed to his bare shoulder. “I got your things. Sleep.” A warm body curled around his in a gentle embrace. “Sleep, Chris. You're safe here.”

…

Chris woke up the next morning with a numb arm, but he couldn't bring himself to move it. She looked so content with her head pillowed on his bicep, her breathing slow and quiet. Had she really said he was safe last night, like...like she really cared about him?

Jesus Christ, she was maybe half his fucking age. Little more. His morning wood didn't give a shit but his brain sure as hell did, seeming to wake the fuck up for once and reprimand him for being a goddamn creep. Jericho winced. The hum started without his intent, all too familiar words floating to the surface of his mind. Here I am, I'm in the wrong bed again...

Chris's lips twitched and then he carefully tucked an errant strand of hair back behind her ear, unable to help the rueful smile that crossed his face. She stirred, frowning in her sleep and moving even closer to him. Her shirt slid off her shoulder and Jericho swallowed hard at the sight of a red bra strap, fingers already on their way over before he realized it. Snapping bra straps hadn't been his thing for years but shit if this one didn't demand it.

“You're an asshole.” She murmured, opening one eye to glare at him.

Jericho didn't really expect the burst of laughter that came out of him, but he was in bed with a beautiful woman probably half his age and he felt pretty good despite everything. He shushed her, rubbing over the irritated skin with his thumb. “Je suis désolé, m' sorry. I had to.”

“Mm, get fucked.” She replied, grabbing the waistband of his boxers over his hip and slingshotting the elastic back at him. Chris yelped, trying to squirm away as she crooked her fingers into claws and started tickling him. “This is what you get for waking me up, you dick!”

“Mercy! Uncle, uncle!” He begged through his laughter, trying to grab her hands as she flung herself at him.

“I went over last night with Sami and we got your things.” She said quietly after he managed to get her tangled in the sheet. “Zayn was livid. I thought he was going to tear Kevin apart at the venue.” She twiddled her fingers beneath the sheet. “Sami says he hopes you're alright, and that he's sorry.”

“He warned me, y'know. Told me. Not like I hadn't seen their match, but still. I walked into that situation fully aware. I just...I thought I was smarter than Zayn.” Jericho admitted.

She 'tsk'ed, rolling to look at him. “Pride goeth before a fall and all that.” She reached over the edge of the bed, grabbing his familiar silver clipboard. “Here, I picked it up during the break so that it wouldn't get thrown away.”

Chris took the clipboard from her, feeling more than a little pitiful. “Why the heck are you being so nice to me?” He asked plainly. “I'm obviously an asshole. I just...I don't get it is all. Sorry.”

“You just had the crap kicked out of you by a guy who you thought was your best friend! I think I'm allowed to be nice, even to an asshole like you.” She pointed out.

Jericho's tightening grip on the clipboard made the metal creak weakly. He didn't know what the hell to do with himself. She just kept looking at him, radiating kindness and worry and Chris didn't mean to lean in. He really didn't. He told himself to get the fuck up, get out of the bed and leave, leaveleaveleave because this was bad, so bad. There was no way that this could end well.

Then she kissed his forehead, smiled at him, and got up.

Just like that.

Like it was easy. Simple.

“I have to get ready for the next town, answer some emails, but you're welcome to go back to sleep. I know you're probably still exhausted. I'll wake you up when it's closer to when we need to check out. I um. I guess you're riding with me? Or is your and Kevin's rental in your name?” She asked.

Oh, right. Chris had almost forgotten. “It's in my name. Check your rental back in and we'll take mine, save you some cash.” He refused to take no for an answer, silencing her with a pompous hand motion and then rolling over to snuggle back into the blankets.

…

She wouldn't let him drive and Chris was secretly grateful. He still put up a fight. He didn't really need to be coddled, damn it, he would be alright. He'd taken worse bumps than what Kevin had put him through.

It was nice though, to be able to sit in the passenger seat and listen to music, absently doodling on his List as the miles trekked by. Kevin always had something to say and it wasn't often that Jericho could just prop his chin up on his hand and think without being interrupted sixteen times.

She stopped to get lunch at some healthy place that boasted 'paleo and vegan options!' on the plate glass window out front. It was entertaining when they both realized that what that meant to the person making the menu was...salad. Lots of salad. She couldn't stop giggling as Jericho read through, no word of a lie, twenty-eight different variations on the standard rabbit food, ranch dressing-drenched fare.

Her laugh was...it was nice. He could definitely get used to hearing it. Could get used to a few other things, if he was being honest. Her knees kept bumping his beneath the table, her sneakers ending up on top of his comfortable boots and Jesus, Jesus he could definitely live with more of this. Chris had no idea how the hell he was supposed to act, she wasn't really being flirty. Not like how he was used to, anyway. She was being more...shit, like they were already a couple. Like they'd already dealt with that first date hurdle and were comfortable with one another.

Well, we did kind of share a bed. Jericho grimaced inwardly. She beckoned him close after they ordered, asking for his phone and then quickly taking a selfie of the two of them.

“Post it, let's make that asshole jealous.” She grinned mischievously at him. Chris's insides felt like someone lit them on fire, his whole body going hot at that cocky little smirk.

Oh I'm in big trouble.

She didn't seem to mind when he snagged some of the little oranges from her salad, or when he leaned in a little closer than he needed to after she pulled up a video on her phone. Chris pushed his luck and placed a kiss on her knuckles as they stood to leave, gratified when a flush rose on her cheeks and she shyly looked away.

Never let it be said that Chris Jericho was not a man of action, regardless of whether that action was going to earn him a beating or something more...entertaining.

…

Chris didn't have a match that night, thank God. He was distracted enough pacing back and forth in the arena hallway, clicking a pen nervously. He was her ride back to the hotel and yeah, he might have gotten there a little early, but it's not like it mattered.

So he was worried. Fine. It didn't matter. He was worried about Owens pulling something and it was driving him insane. Fine. It didn't matter. Besides, erring on the side of caution wasn't a bad idea.

It didn't matter.

The surge of relief he felt when he saw her making her way towards him was short-lived. “A couple of us are planning on going out for drinks, do you want to come?” She asked, sounding hopeful.

Jericho cringed, gripping the pen and his List tightly. It's a game I just can't win. “Nah, I'll pass. Do you still need a ride?”

She nodded, looking let-down. “I need to change, anyways.”

And that was how Chris found himself subjected to helping zip her into a cute, tight little black dress before she headed back down to the lobby bar. Jericho sat down on the bed after she left, heaving a sigh. He flipped to a fresh page on the List and began to write.

The bartender.

Whoever invited her out.

For being the guy hell-bent on it not mattering, it sure as shit seemed to matter quite a bit. Chris's brow furrowed angrily. He scribbled over the words, ripping the page with his efforts. Kevin was right and that pissed him off. He would fill the damn List with pointless, normal people and what the hell was the good in that? So he could feel better about being too much of a idiot to ask her out when he had the chance?

Jericho shook his head at himself, got to his feet and slipped his jacket on. He'd waited long enough on this. Shit, he should have asked her out the first time he got her coffee, never mind coming in at the eleventh fucking hour when some other guy had probably asked her on a date.

He felt like a stupid idiot as he pressed the button for the elevator and waited in the hallway, his hands in his pockets. Shit, maybe the stairs would be quicker. Was the elevator broken?

The doors finally slid open with a soft ding and Chris whipped back around from staring contemplatively at the stairwell. He was greeted by the sight of Kevin Owens, whose eyes widened when he saw Chris. Jericho snarled, lunging into the elevator and tackling the other man. Kevin's back hit the opposite side of the elevator, mashing random buttons.

Chris rained blows on the Universal Champion's head, yelling a blue streak in a mixture of half-assed French and heartfelt English as the elevator rolled down and then came to a halt at the floor below. Kevin fumbled to escape the older man's onslaught to no avail; the elevator doors slid shut again. Owens finally got free of Jericho when the doors opened to the foyer, bolting over him and sprinting to the bar. Chris picked himself up, furious that Owens might escape him in the dimly lit area.

“Owens you get your ass back out here!” He shouted as he stormed into the bar, “Get back out here and fight me like a man, you punk!”

“I don't think so Chris, I've got your little girlfriend!” Kevin replied, sounding positively triumphant as he wrangled the woman in question off her barstool. “Ta pu-”

“She'll kick your ass too, you stupid idiot!” Chris raged, cutting the other man off before he could finish. “Don't call her that, don't you dare call her that!”

“I'll call her whatever the fuck I w--!” Kevin's smirk was wiped off his face when she got a hand free and delivered a punch that looked like it rattled his teeth.

“Let me go!” She snapped, pulling back for another strike. Owens, clearly not expecting the level of resistance he was getting, all but threw her at Jericho and then sprinted past him to the stairwell. Chris barely managed to catch her, knocked off balance himself by the force Kevin had put behind his shove.

“Christ. You okay?” He panted. “You pack a mean wallop, princess, how's your wrist?”

“What the hell was that about?!” She asked, her voice pitched slightly higher than normal as she completely ignored his own question. “Chris, what the ever-loving--jeez!” Her hands rested on his chest, shaking just a little bit.

Chris didn't know whether it was the adrenaline talking, or maybe he was just sick and tired of everything crashing down on him, but he crushed her body against his own and proceeded to kiss her until he was breathless. “Are. You. Okay.” He gasped, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Yeah I...yeah.” She replied softly, looking dazed. “You just...”

“Yeah.” There was a sinking feeling clawing at his chest, but he kept her pressed tightly to him. “I was coming down here to tell you and then he was in the--”

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and kissed him back. Chris was dimly aware of a few wolf-whistles and cheers from her coworkers, but he couldn't be fucked to pay attention to them. All he could focus on was how soft her lips were against his own; her whole body molded to his like it was meant for him, fuck.

“We have to go to the room.” Chris breathed. She didn't reply and he forcibly pulled back, shaking his head to clear it. “Fuck. Fuck. C'mon, princess.” He grabbed her hand, his heart pounding loud in his ears as her fingers willingly laced with his own. “Get your ass into that elevator.”

Pinning her against one of the side walls in the elevator was a strategic move, Chris decided. It meant that if Kevin reared his ugly head, she would be protected by his body. Also she made fantastic noises as he kissed up her neck, which was a great bonus. “Fuck, Chris, p-please.” She moaned, her fingers raking down the back of his jacket.

“I've got you sweetheart, I've got you.” Jericho murmured, unable to keep from arching his back. The motion pushed their hips together and she whimpered, hands flying to his belt buckle. “Whoa whoa, easy. In the room. Owens is still around, I want you safe.” Chris caught her hands, kissing her knuckles and smiling at her. “I'm gonna' keep you safe, princess.”

She looked up at him and Chris almost lost his control. Her hair was just a tiny bit mussed, her lips kiss-swollen and slightly parted. Her tight dress had moved an inch or two up, exposing a little more skin. She looked delicious and Chris wanted to devour her right then and there, unable to keep from pressing her back against the metal wall and kissing her hard. If this was the universe's way of making Kevin's treachery up to him, he could definitely live with it.

The elevator doors opened and Jericho jerked upright, but the hallway was deserted. He still didn't breathe easy until the door to their room closed behind him. Then, oh then...

She dropped to her knees without him saying a damn thing and Jericho couldn't help the approving noise he made as she undid his belt. “That's right, princess, you know what you want. You've always known, right?” He said, unable to keep from chuckling when he noticed her blushing. “Take what you want.”

“You're not fair, you know that?” She asked, her voice a little breathy.

“You don't get far in life by being fair, princess.”

“Good to know.” She unzipped his pants and fumbled with his boxers for a second before freeing his cock. Chris's fingers wound into her hair, stroking the soft strands appreciatively. Her lips pressed to the head of his cock, kitten licks teasing the head of it while Jericho hissed in a breath. It had been a while since he'd let anyone get near his dick. “Don't stick your cock in crazy,” had served him well over the years, almost as well as his pickup lines.

“Ever been put in the Walls Of Jericho?” He asked her suddenly, watching her brow furrow in confusion. “It's a memorable experience. You'll really feel it in your lower back and stomach when I'm on top of you, princess.”

She started laughing, getting to her feet. “You're ridiculous.” She said with a smile as she wiggled his jeans off his hips.

Chris hiked her skirt up a little more, his fingers digging into the waistband of her panties. Black this time, of course, to match the dress. “May I?”

“Yes.” Her voice was just barely there, her eyes half-lidded and pupils blown with arousal. “Please, Chris.”

“Fuck, that's a good look on you.” He groaned, sliding the underwear down her legs. “This dress stays on. How do you want me, princess?” Jericho's fingers slipped over her pussy, slick coating his digits. He pressed his lips to her ear, voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “I already know you want my cock in you, so tell me where you want it.” Her mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. “I asked you a question, princess.”

“Can I ride you, please please let me ride you?” She begged finally. “Please Chris, I--“

“Shh, I know, I know.” Chris soothed, pulling his jacket off. “I'll take care of you.”

“You have no idea how surreal this is.” She admitted while he unbuttoned his shirt. “I...I used to watch you on TV when I was little.”

“Not when you got older? What, too cool for wrestling?” Chris teased.

“No, I was more confused by the feeling I got in my stomach when I watched it.” She replied nonchalantly.

Chris almost choked on the breath he sucked in, laughing incredulously. “Seriously?”

“Mm, it made it tough to watch!”

“Shit, I don't know if anyone's ever told me their 'sexual awakening' story. I'm flattered, princess.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” She squeaked, putting her hands over her face.

“Ah ah, no hiding from me, princess. This is apparently a very special occasion for you.” Jericho couldn't resist teasing her a little more, sliding a single finger over the back of her shoulders as he circled her. “You've been pretty patient, I guess.”

“Patient enough to deserve a reward?” Oh no, she was on to him. Better yet, she was playing along.

Chris nodded, laying back on the bed and holding the base of his cock. “I'd say so. Come here, princess.” Without any hesitation, she climbed up on the bed beside him. Jericho smirked, feeling more than a little self-satisfied. “Think you're wet enough to take all of me?”

“Won't know until I try, right?” Shit, she was going to kill him.

Chris chuckled a little breathlessly. “Wanna' grab my wallet, princess? In the jacket.” She bent over the side of the bed and Chris bit his lip at the sight. “Good girl.” He didn't expect her to take his cock into her mouth after she tossed him his wallet, one of his hands flying to the back of her head. “Shit, princess, damn you're good at that.” He panted, loving the way she rolled her tongue.

She removed her mouth with a lewd 'pop!', looking pleased with herself. Chris was pretty sure the look she gave him was illegal. All pretty eyes and spit-slick lips, Christ.

“Get up here. Get up on my cock. Take what's yours, princess.” He ordered, fists clenching at his sides when she straddled his hips. “That's right, that's right, take what's yours.”

She leaned down to kiss him, her hand holding the base of his cock steady. Jericho groaned out when the head of his dick finally entered her, startled into opening his eyes when she twined her fingers through his own and whimpered desperately. Then, she sank slowly down onto him in one long, tender push, her eyes half-lidding again when their hips were flush. She was oddly silent through the whole thing, teeth latched onto her lower lip.

Chris rasped something along the lines of fucking Christ, clapping a hand to either side of her body and holding her still for a few seconds. “M' gonna' fucking come right off the bat if you move, if you know what's good for you don't move.” Her hips kept fucking twitching and Jericho threw his head back, staring up at the ceiling and breathing hard. “Fuck, princess, you--”

“I came, I came, I'm so sorry!” The words sobbed out as Chris felt her spasm on his cock, and that last little shred of self-control he had was hard-pressed to keep him from coming on the spot. “F-uck m' so sorry, so sorry--”

“Why the fuck are you apologizing?” He asked through clenched teeth, dragging her down so he could press their foreheads together. “We're having sex, you're supposed to come when you're having sex. Other times too, masturbation, y'know. But shit, why are you apologizing?”

“I didn't mean to, I promise.” She said softly, sounding ashamed. “I wanted to wait until you...”

“Trust me princess, I won't let you be a one and done. Now lean back and fuck those hips down onto me.” Chris ordered, sighing when she obeyed. Her hips were quivering, her thighs a little shaky as she rose up on her knees and then sank back down. She was so fucking wet after coming, her cunt still rhythmically gripping his cock with aftershocks while she braced herself back on his thighs. Chris realized she was watching his cock push in and out of her with a dazed expression, like she still couldn't believe this was happening. Jericho wondered how many times she'd gotten off on the idea of doing something like this with him. His smirk returned in full force. “Oh princess.” He called in a singsong tone, making her eyes jerk up to his. “How long have you wanted to fuck me, huh?”

She went bright red and Jericho barely kept in a moan at how fucking cute that was. “I--”

“How many nights did you spend rubbing this little pussy raw thinking about me?” Chris hadn't gotten this filthy in years, but fuck it. “Did you think something was wrong with you when you finally came for the first time, princess? When everything went white and then sound came back and you were fucking shaking with your fingers on your too-sensitive cunt, not sure if you made noise or not?” He bucked his hips up hard, gripping her thighs tightly. She whined at his words and Chris sought her clit out with his thumb, rubbing slow circles on the sensitive area. “Did you wonder what I would feel like under your hands, in your mouth?”

“So good, Chris, oh my God-!” She panted, leaning down so she could kiss him hungrily. Jericho eagerly reciprocated, his palm landing on her ass cheek with a resounding smack! She jolted, whimpering into his mouth when his tongue stroked her own.

“Sorry, got carried away. Usually I ask first.” Chris apologized, grunting in surprise when she ground down onto him harder. “Princess likes it when I give her a little tap, huh?”

“Again, again, please Chris please.” She begged, making him fucking snarl.

“Alright, alright, what Chris's princess wants she gets.” He felt her spasm at that. “Ah fuck, you like when I call you my princess? You're mine.” Chris stated firmly.

“Mr. Jericho-!” She gasped. Her whole body went still as she seemed to realize what she'd said, and she looked at Chris nervously. “S-Sorry, I, um...”

Chris was pretty sure he'd never been this hard in his life. “You want to call me Mr. Jericho that bad, huh?” He noisily licked her slick off his thumb, making her moan softly and shift her hips. “Fucking do it then, princess, call me whatever the hell you want. Just keep fucking me, please. I can't get enough of how good you look on my dick.” He pleaded. “Your little pussy takes me so fucking good, these hips are driving me fucking crazy, please--f-ah, shit, princess-” His words choked off when she started touching herself while she rode him, Chris watching hungrily and taking mental notes as she squirmed and rolled on his cock.

“Mr. Jericho, I'm so close, p-please-”

“Good fucking thing.” Jericho managed to say, making her giggle and moan at the same time in a sound that went straight to his cock. “I'm close too, princess. What do you need?” He swallowed hard when she took one of his hands and pressed it to her cheek. She was smiling down at him like he was something fucking incredible, like she...shit, he shouldn't even be thinking that. It was just how her eyes looked, that was all. He cupped her cheek, pretty sure he was grinning like some kind of stupid idiot. He didn't really give a shit though.

“Touch me, please?” Her request was so soft, almost like she was ashamed of it. Jericho wasn't having it, he was way too hard for her to let her feel as if asking for something to get her off was greedy.

“Princess you fucking tell me to touch you. I'm already touching you, where do you want me to touch you?” The hand on her cheek slid to the back of her neck and he roughly dragged her down against him, his other hand swatting her ass again.

She shuddered, fucking mewling and arching into him, chanting,“Yes Mr. Jericho, yes Mr. Jericho,” over and over. Chris was pretty sure that was his new favorite thing to be called, latching onto her hips and driving his cock up into her hard and fast. “Fuck, yes!” She cried out suddenly, “just like that, just like that, fuck! I-!”

“You gonna' come, princess? Gonna' come again on Mr. Jericho's cock?” Chris panted in her ear, groaning long and low when she started shaking. “Fuck me, yeah you are. Come all over my dick, princess.” She kissed him, seemingly to muffle her desperate whimpering. The noises she made coupled with how her cunt was gripping him like a fucking vise was enough to shatter his aforementioned last little chunk of self-control, and Chris pinned her mercilessly to his hips as he came.

Her chest was heaving for breath and Jericho was sure he didn't look much better, unable to stifle the chuckle that he panted out at the look on her face. She was all kinds of rumpled now, her hair a mess, dress slid up to her stomach. Perfect. “Christ, princess, you're amazing.” He huffed, startled when she all but collapsed on his chest and curled up. Her body kept shuddering, little aftershocks rolling through them both in a delicious cadence. “Fucking Christ.”

“I'm so tired.” She whispered, her voice sounding like it was about to give out. “Wow. Thank you.”

“Sleep, princess. You've had a full day.” Chris urged, sitting up and easily lifting her off his cock. “Just...lay down, okay? You want a glass of water or something?”

“I was scared when he grabbed me.” She admitted hoarsely, hiding her face against his side. “I didn't know what to do.”

“Shit, that's right.” Chris had totally forgotten about Kevin. “I...let me see, come here. I should have checked before we...fuck, I'm sorry.” He apologized, examining her wrist worriedly. “I'm an idiot.”

“Well if you're an idiot I must be a stupid idiot.”

Jericho snorted, kissing her hand. “You're a scrappy idiot if you are one, shit, looked like you dislocated his jaw.” He got up from the bed, stretching and yawning loudly. When he returned with the glass of water though, she was already asleep. Chris took the moment to study her, his mouth quirking up in a smile. A real one.

He put the water on the bedside table and gently rolled her over, unzipping her dress and peeling it back off. “Shh.” He hushed her when she whimpered. “Just me. It's bedtime, princess.” She allowed herself to be tucked in, hugging the pillow tightly while Chris climbed in on his side of the bed and picked up his List. He clicked his pen absently for a few minutes, reading and rereading the names in front of him without really seeing them.

Chris finally sighed and flipped all the pages over the back of the clipboard, staring contemplatively at the dull metal of the clipboard. His pen, like it had a mind of its own, started spelling her name out on the worn surface. He traced it a few times, each pass slightly deepening the little scratches in the metal. When he wiped away the ink the impression was still there. A tiny heart beside it completed the odd addition, and he felt weirdly content with himself.

He put the List on his bedside table and slid down in the blankets. She reached out to him as he got comfortable, naked body hot against his own in the bed. Chris hummed, legitimately happy for the first time in God only knew how long. He buried his face in her hair and crooned softly, “Master of A Thousand And Four Holds, right? I guess you're the thousand and fifth because let me tell you, you've got a tight fucking grip on my heart princess.” She murmured wordlessly in her sleep, her legs tangling with his own. “Sleep good, princess.”

#Chris Jericho #chris jericho/OFC #chris jericho smut #thirst party saturday #wwe #the festival of friendship made me so sad #def leppard references #terrible pick up line in here

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alteredphoenix · 4 years

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At the Valley of the End (Old WIP)(Nanoha)

A/N: This is an old fic on another USB dated August 20, 2012. It was around this time I was writing profusely in the Nanoha fandom (before Warcraft overtook it years later), and unless I have my dates wrong this was way, way before Vivid and the movies came out. I always had a fondness for StrikerS, even though it’s kind of considered the black sheep of the franchise, and I still wanted Force to continue despite the fact that by now it’s not going to (and the fandom collective has purged it from memory in a case of self-inflected amnesia in the same way the Type-Moon fandom attempts to give the Tsukihime anime damnatio memoriae). So I wrote a lot of StrikerS-centric fics - kind of crappy ones now, but I was just a kid back then.

I’m not sure how this fic came about. I think it had something to do with my discontent with Nanoha showing tough love to Subaru and Teana for being too reckless and...just not being punished for it? Because Nanoha’s a fucking monster, and with her magical power it’s a miracle she didn’t outright kill the two of them (you must forgive me, it’s been dinosaur ages since I’ve watched StrikerS let alone the entire series).

So, going over this fic (and trying to jog my memory), I believe the premise was “Teana flips off the TSAB after getting her ass beat and goes rogue in search for more power via Jail, goes off the deep end from said power and gets killed by Nanoha, who, in turn, is so wracked with guilt she becomes an alcoholic that Subaru tries but fails to put a stop to because Vivio’s an impressionable little girl who’s going to notice sooner rather than later if it keeps up.” (If Fate shows up in this, I have no recollection.)

I honestly don’t remember what comes after, other than it being a pretty melancholic and not so happy story. It’s mainly a fic that deals with the fallout of Nanoha’s actions and how they struggle to reconcile with Teana’s absence in their lives.

It began with a bang and drowned in a whisper. No one suspected her to turn away from the path they had laid out for her, but by the time they realized what she intended to do it was far too late to stop her and much more to save her.

Nanoha should’ve known better than to have hurt her. Hayate should have slapped her with a dishonorable discharge on the spot (she didn’t), but she did share Shamal’s fit of conniption over the state of their friend’s condition (because the shard was still there, and the more she abused her power, the more pressure she put into her Linker Core and damn it Nanoha you’re not invincible you’re only human so stop please stop doing pushing yourself).

Nanoha should’ve known better and she tried to make it better, but instead she made it worse and now she was going to live with that mistake for the rest of her life. Subaru couldn’t blame her because she tried too, tried in vain to pick up all the pieces and put them back together. The picture would be cracked (FOREVER) but at least it would (appear) be whole.

After all, Subaru was Teana’s friend – her best friend. Nanoha may have been their teacher and knew just about everything there was about them, but Subaru had been witness to some of the darkest moments in Tea’s life.

She understood, but not as much as Teana. Never as much as Teana.

(She wishes she could have, but wishes don’t come true. They) almost (never do.)

“Gimme another,” says Nanoha; her cheeks are rosy and her voice is colored the faintest tint of a slur. She holds out the shot glass like a beggar pleading for change.

Subaru sighs, hand still on the bottle. “No more.”

“C’mon, just one more hit. I promise I won’t drink anymore.” She reaches out, grasping dumbly for liquid gold.

Subaru pulls it away. “You’ve had enough. Pull yourself together. Rest. If Vivio sees you—“

“Please. I need this.”

She shakes her head. “Last one,” and she fills the glass to the brim.

Nanoha knocks it back as soon as the bottle’s removed. Her chest shakes with a breath that sounds too loud in the empty kitchen. “Gods Above!” she exclaims. She whips her head up and lowers it to the island’s cool metal countertop, chestnut locks shadowing her face. “I didn’t know beer could taste so good!”

“I guess,” Subaru says, screwing the cap back on the bottle. “I hope you know what else beer can do to you, ‘specially when you have too much.”

“Can’t a budding woman be allowed to forget? Just for one day?” The hand not holding the shot grabs a fistful of hair, bones drawn so taut Subaru’s afraid she’s going to pull those strands out and drip blood all over the floor. She doesn’t. Instead she curls in on herself and sniffles. “Won’t you let her disappear?”

(Like Tea did?)

No.

Subaru stomps her heart flat, dams the tide of tears pushing to overflow. She puts the bottle back in its appropriate place on the shelf and shuts the cupboard. She doesn’t dare turn around, meet that crestfallen face. “I can’t,” because if I do, “but it’s too late to be saying that, don’t you think?” I won’t be able to control myself.

The anguish.

The emptiness.

(“Cool your head, neophyte,” the Devil said tonelessly, and the day was set aflame with the subsonic screams of the spell rocketing toward the girl.)

That black rage….

“’Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.’” That was what Ginga had quoted a couple years ago. Their father had to be called away for a case and they had the house to themselves. Night was fast approaching and Subaru had an essay on the history of Ancient Belka to finish before tomorrow morning.

Sitting out on the veranda with a six-pack of lemon-lime soda and Subaru’s history textbook opened between them, they had gazed upon the first pinprick of stars twinkling into existence. The air had been cool, comfortable, and it caressed their skin like a lingering snake bite.

“The knowledge the Belkans possessed inspired them to become greater than they had believed to be. With it they unlocked the secrets of nature, of modern-day science, and built upon their primitive foundations. Their understanding of the universe grew, expanded their minds, and bolstered their strength to heights that contested with the reigning dominant worlds of the time.

#magical girl lyrical nanoha #nanoha takamachi #subaru nakajima #ginga nakajima #teana lanster #at the valley of the end #fanfiction #preview #mywriting

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splintered-dreams · 7 years

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Comeuppance

Title: Comeuppance Fandom: Original Story Published: 10-23-17 Words: 2,482 Warnings: Gratuitous gore, descriptions of sexual assault

Summary: He swallowed his heart back down from his throat and tried to hide the tears in his eyes. “I told you I’d do anything for you.”

She appeared to him as she had in the days leading up to her death, her messy blonde hair cut in a bob, pale skin unmarred by the ravages of time or man, with a small gap between her front teeth that showed when she opened her mouth. He wanted to sob. He always did, when he saw her. “Des!” she cried, rushing towards him and leaping into his arms, her form barely wavering as he held her close, tears running down his face. She pulled back slightly, placing her small palms on his filthy cheeks. “You haven’t been eating or sleeping again,” she scolded, pouting, running her fingers over his taut cheeks, taking in the dark bags under his mismatched eyes. “Ooh, mummy’s gonna getcha good when she sees you again!” All he could do was try and smile through his tears.

“It’s been a long time hasn’t it, Tetyana?” he choked out. “How’s my favourite princess doing, huh?” It felt like a sin to be holding her like this, caked in blood and sweat and grime, even though he knew she would remain untouched by his filth. The mage wiped his face, hiding the tear tracks with bloody smears. There was still a job to be done. At least he had company this time. He knelt down and she climbed onto his shoulders, fingers threaded through his tangled hair, a phantom weight as he walked through the bodies strewn about the hallway. Her eyes, he knew, saw everything but nothing at all. It would be pointless to attempt to shield her gaze. You can’t hide anything from the dead, after all.

She hummed. “I’m okay,” she said, before directing him to turn left, down a corridor he hadn’t seen earlier. “Mum misses you. She still worries about you, even though she knows you’ll be okay.” She was smiling, he knew, flashing that teasing grin he used to despise before everything went wrong. “My big brother, champion of the lowly ones, the voiceless ones, the broken ones; never would’ve thought you had it in ya.” It goes unsaid that he only picked up those nicknames because of his crusade to avenge her. That he would become anything to avenge her. That he cast away his humanity for her.

“I am whatever the masses decree me to be,” he said, large hands gently gripping small, phantom ankles, not because his sister’s shade needed steadying, but that it was an ingrained habit from when he was young, always holding his baby sister steady atop his shoulders so that she may reach up and try to capture the stars in her embrace. He missed those carefree days with such a sharp longing it felt like a stab to the heart with an acid-dipped blade. He forced those memories back, knowing it wouldn’t do to become distracted when he was so close to completing his current task.

The corridor the ghost directed him down led to a veritable labyrinth of dimly lit stone passages, a stark contrast from the soft velvet carpets and ornate wooden walls of the main section of the mansion. It would be easy for a normal mortal to become lost in these twisting halls, but the mage was undeterred, avoiding dead ends and decoy paths without batting an eye. While disgusted, he wasn’t surprised by the change in scenery. He knew what kind of people resided within the walls of this facsimile of a socially acceptable house, had seen the darkness that lurked in the eyes and hearts of those that entered the grounds. It was like a portal to the past, memories layered atop reality in the worst kind of way. He felt his sister’s ghost briefly lose her corporeality, a sensation like a sheet of cold water running down his back as she phased through him, before falling into step next to him, her bare feet disturbing none of the shallow puddles the duo walked through.

Up ahead he could hear muffled crying, the screaming of a child in agony, and bile rose up in his throat. His sister’s gaze burned as it lay on his stricken expression. “It never gets easier for you does it?” she asked quietly, not expecting an answer. His expression was far away, and she knew he couldn’t be reached by her voice. Not in the present, anyway. “You always hear me in their cries, see me in their mutilated bodies.” The dim lights flickered and faltered as the mage’s strides grew, increasing his speed until he broke into a run, eyes focused but unseeing. He didn’t notice he was leaving his sister’s ghost behind. As he darted ahead, consumed by both the horrors of the past and his current goal, his sister’s form changed from that of a five-year-old girl to that of an ageless being that only loosely could be classified as humanoid. Speaking to no one, it said, “That is why We chose you, Desmond Hoss,” before melting into the floor without a trace.

The mage, unaware of the being he left behind, rushed towards the sound of children in pain, reality blurring with the memories he was never able to suppress, not fully. Sigils flared to life around him, hovering and twisting around his arms and hands, flickering a sickly green light that cast strange shadows as he moved. There was an old, oak door at the end of a corridor, from behind which muffled screams were emanating. He didn’t bother with stealth, simply pouring his magic into the doorway with one intent: destroy.

The doorway exploded outwards in a shower of wooden and granite shrapnel, slicing through unprotected skin, but he barely registered the fresh cuts adorning his face. He walked through the destruction, webs of green magic crawling along the right side of his face, oozing in viscous streams from behind his glass eye, casting a menacing glow on his twisted countenance. There were dozens of children of all genders hidden away in the room, ages ranging from five to twelve, drugged to the gills and chained to beds and each other. Some of them seemed semi-conscious, while others simply sat there, unaware. Many sported hand-shaped bruises on their necks and wrists, while more still were littered with bite marks. The older ones were in worse shape than the younglings, inflamed abrasions on their wrists and ankles showing they fought against their restraints often, probably as soon as the drugs started to wear out. Their nails were blunt and bloody. Some had bloody mouths. The mage noted all of this and snarled.

There were adults in the room as well, men and women in various states of undress, masked and taking pleasure in the bodies of their captives. These children weren’t drugged, instead screaming, begging, sobbing, writhing, desperately trying to escape their restraints and the arms of their captors, crying out in fear and pain as they were violated, all to the soundtrack of their captors laughter. The scene was so familiar he nearly retched, watching helplessly in his mind’s eye as his sister was desecrated in the same manner, able to hear her crying for him to save her while he was bound and made to watch. Des snapped, his magic throwing the vile creatures posing as humans off their victims, throwing them against the far wall. His magic crackled, leaping off in arcs of sickly green light before snapping back to his body, sigils flaring in slowly spinning circles behind him.

He stalked forward, using his magic to hastily put the children into a deep sleep before vanishing them to the upper floors of the mansion. Rudimentary healing, both physical and mental, could take place later. He sealed the hole where the door had once stood, an electrical web weaving itself into place in the gaps between the stone, hissing and sparking dangerously. The scent of ozone hung heavy in the sealed room. The vermin huddled in on themselves, trembling, some even deigning to scream in horror as his form started to waver slightly, stretching and contorting before returning to normal in the blink of an eye. The only light came from Des’ magic, casting an unnatural green hue on all the objects in the room. “Now then,” he purred maliciously, eyes wild, grin full of teeth that lengthened and sharpened to unnatural points, “I think it’s time I punish the sinners, don’t you think?”

“H-How did you-?” one of the vermin tried to stammer out, but Des darted forward with inhuman speed and punched his hand straight through the man’s gut, cutting his inquiry off with a howl of pain, his viscera-covered arm protruding from his back. The mage smiled, equal parts cruel and amused, as he pulled his arm out with a thick, wet sucking noise, and let the man drop to the ground, watching him struggle to push his innards back into the hole in his gut. Watching him writhe like a maggot on the filthy stone floor, feebly fighting to stay alive, filled Des with sick pleasure.

“Haven’t you heard the stories? The myths?” he cooed, kicking his first victim over and grinding his heel into the gaping wound, the screams music to his ears. “When children are in pain, when there’s nowhere for them to turn, when the world has turned a blind eye while the innocent are crying out for salvation, don’t you know who they pray to?” He cackled as the man’s eyes shone with horrified realization, but before he could say anything, the mage crushed his neck with the heel of his boot, hearing the bone yield with satisfying cracks.

The vermin’s associates truly started to panic, the reality of their situation beginning to fully sink in. They had heard the stories, of course, everyone who shared their sickening tastes had heard that there was one who would deliver salvation to the abused while the abusers were never heard from again, but that’s what they were thought to be, just stories. Now, it seemed, they would pay the price for not heeding the warning in those tales. Most of the rats pressed themselves against the wall or backed themselves into corners, tears filling their eyes as they begged for mercy. Several tried to make a run for it, only for their doomed escape to come to an agonizing end as they ran into the barrier made by Des’ magic, electricity coursing through their bodies as they howled and writhed before falling, limp, smoking, blood and other bodily fluids leaking from various orifices.

A few brave, or perhaps just desperate, vermin tried to attack him, armed with only their fists and fueled by adrenaline and terror, but the mage ended their feeble attempts without breaking a sweat, gouging out eyes and ripping out tongues, tearing off genitalia and limbs, crushing skulls and windpipes with careless, thoughtless, yet precise movements. Screams rent the air, blood splashing on the walls and spilling onto the floor, hot and wet, streams of crimson snaking through the cracked stone floor. Once the proactive vermin were dealt with, Des turned his attention to those cowardly ones, the ones who still believed that begging and grovelling would save them. He put an end to that belief with extreme prejudice, ripping organs from the screaming fools, digging through their chest cavities to tear out their hearts just to make their helpless compatriots eat the still-beating muscle.

The sigils behind Des glowed brighter with each kill and his form began changing into something less than human. His skin blackened and his face briefly became featureless except for his grinning mouth filled with blood-stained teeth and the green webbing stretched across the right side of his face, and then hundreds of glowing green eyes opened all over his body, disappearing below his clothes. All the blood on his form, whether it belonged to him or one of his victims, was absorbed into his body. A thick, viscous liquid that glowed the colour of his magic dripped from his maw, hissing as the droplets hit the ground. Of the few victims who remained alive, only one had the energy left to stammer, horrified, “M-monster… y-you’re more of a-a monst-ter than you claim we a-are!!”

Des pushed out his magic, letting the sigils adhere themselves to the walls. “A monster, you say?” he rumbled, voice distorted. His eyes were devoid of emotion as he prepared his magic for afinal ritual. “No, I am no monster.” The mage laughed, throwing back his head to reveal rows and rows of needle-like teeth in his mouth. “My form is naught but a nightmare created by the darkness in your hearts. You created me.” Only he knew this meant more than what his victims could ever comprehend, not that it mattered. Animals didn’t need to understand the motivation of their butcher, only that they were about to die and there was nothing they could do about it. “Don’t you know who I am?” he mocked as the ritual symbol on the floor flared to life. The room echoed with the screams of the damned and he watched as skeletal hands grasped at the bodies and souls of the sinners and dragged them to the punishment realm to suffer for their crimes eternally. “I’m the chosen of the goddess, the savior of the broken ones. The only monsters here are you.”

A bright white light engulfed the room before dissipating, and once it was gone there was no trace of the slaughter that took place in it moments before. The bodies and blood were gone, vanished without a trace, and all traces of magic faded away, as though they had never been there in the first place. Des stood amongst the rubble from his initial break-in, human once more, and shook himself of the ghosts of his past. If a few tears rolled down his cheek, well, no one was there to witness it. A small hand grasped his and he looked down to see the ghost of his sister standing beside him, innocent and untouched as she always should have been. As was common after a job, he was struck with how little he believed what he told the sinners before he cast them down when he was faced with the image of what he believed goodness to be. He wanted to pull away, to prevent himself from poisoning her with his taint, even though he knew it was a ridiculous notion. However, Tetyana’s ghost simply pulled him from the room, a small smile on her face, and said, “Thank you, my Saint.”

He swallowed his heart back down from his throat and tried to hide the tears in his eyes. “I told you I’d do anything for you,” he simply replied, and the duo headed to the upper floors so that the mage could try to reverse the damage done to his goddess’ charges.

#original fic #gore #des hoss

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alitheia-writes · 7 years

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Automaton (KamiMiyo/MiyoKami) ch 6

Automaton - Alitheia Fandom/Relationships: Joker Game/KamiMiyo-MiyoKami Tags: Canon Universe. Friendship/Love. Angst. Slice of life. Non-chronological. Summary: (—but spies were not machines.) Kaminaga recounted the past and dreamed of the days to come; of a world in which Miyoshi hadn’t ceased to exist. Chapters: one | two | three | four | five | six Link: AO3

There was a bookstore a few blocks from Greater East Asia Cultural Society building that Kaminaga used to frequent—when he was yet to be a spy, when he still stacked his shelves with books of different languages and countries. Now he would only keep one or two at a time before selling them again; the kinds of books they read could give away what sort of people they actually were, and Kaminaga would avoid that at all cost. He no longer struck up conversations with the shopkeepers, and never visited the same store more than twice.

The same goes for bars and restaurants, or any other establishments that might recognize their face. After all, spies were like ghosts, and people were not supposed to see them. In the usual night outings the eight of them would try new places and enter other halls, took different routes and even went back in smaller groups. Habits and patterns were bad; making sure not to be noticed or followed had become a must.

On one night in midwinter, Miyoshi announced that he was bored and prompted them to go somewhere. Neither Hatano nor Jitsui were seen in the cafeteria, and Odagiri said he’d stay behind for a reason that Kaminaga could no longer remember. The rest of them hopped into the streetcar without any destination in mind, but it was Fukumoto who then suggested going to Teitoza. To be honest, dancing wasn’t what Kaminaga fancied the most before, but he had taken more liking to it ever since he saw Miyoshi in their social dancing class. Miyoshi was so good that he became an exemplar, arguably the instructor’s favorite student, and perhaps what Kaminaga would call his casual private mentor.

Now when Kaminaga saw him on the dance floor, wearing his signature brown waistcoat and dancing with a lady in green, skillfully tapping his feet and leading their steps, he found that his eyes were glued. His mind replayed their small sessions of dance practices, when Miyoshi’s rather slim waist would feel just right in his hold and nothing fit more than the way their hands interlocked. Kaminaga had always been a fast learner, and in no time he’d be able to follow the pace Miyoshi was setting, but sometimes he would go as far as purposefully taking wrong steps and though Miyoshi was aware, the man would humor him and ask to redo the whole dance from the start, extending the time they had to spend together.

The thought of not having Miyoshi while the man was in front of him rendered his own dancing almost insufferable, and the spy was glad when the song was over. He bowed slightly to the woman who had been his partner, flashing her what he considered as one of his most attractive smiles (the kind that turned anyone flushed and clumsy, yet never succeeded in making Miyoshi falter). Kaminaga then slowly moved closer to the corner, grabbing the closest drink he found, and gulped half of it down in one go. Although it was light, the familiar burning sensation still welled up from the base of his throat, and instantly it filled his nose with something dry and pungent. His eyes searched the dance floor afterwards, one by one eyeing each of the spies, failing to find Miyoshi.

It was only when the music had turned slow and romantic that he finally saw Miyoshi, coming to him from the direction of the lavatory. He noticed the glass Kaminaga was holding, then took the same one as he walked closer.

“Shouldn’t you be dancing to this?” Miyoshi said with a smile, lifting his glass a bit, as if he was referring to the air.

“Why would I?” Kaminaga tilted his head a bit, returning the smile, interested in what the other spy had to say.

“Well, isn’t this your kind of music.” It was not a question. “The star of the dance floor shall not run away.”

“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” He gave out a little laugh, deciding not to comment on Miyoshi’s claim about his taste of music being romantic and mellow. Miyoshi wasn’t entirely wrong though, since Kaminaga often opted for slower music in their dance practices—though it wasn’t necessarily because he preferred those kinds of song. It was for himself and his greed; after all, when else could he savor the moment of just the two of them being together?

“To music like this,” he took a sip before continuing, “I actually prefer dancing in a more… private surroundings.”

“Then perhaps I should’ve asked you to teach me more often,” Kaminaga replied, playfully.

Miyoshi said nothing in response, but he was smiling. Taking another sip of his drink, he then commented, “This one’s actually decent.”

Silently by each other’s side, they watched the dance hall attentively. The swirl of western dresses and flutters of kimono sleeves filled the space between suits and ties, spinning around the room like flowers on a water surface. Japan itself was indeed changing, yet everything still seemed static for members of the agency. Even if Kaminaga tried not to think about it too much, his mind would work automatically, calculating possibilities and counting the time they could spend gaily like this. Not much left.

“He’s good, isn’t he,” Miyoshi suddenly said, eyes kept looking at the couples dancing, “Amari.”

Kaminaga followed his gaze and found the brown-haired man, still dancing with the lady clad in a yellow western dress, his partner from the previous song. The spy had always struck him as free-minded as well as caring, and even though Kaminaga couldn’t say he knew everything, he could tell that among them, Amari belonged to those who were more genuine. Kaminaga wouldn’t know what went on inside that man’s head, but he always looked like he’s enjoying every second of life. Whether it was training or laughing or drinking, Amari would do it wholeheartedly.

“He is.” Kaminaga admitted, “If he’s smiling like that all time, they look like an actual man and wife that I’m almost ready to give them my blessing.”

“Oh, won’t you find one too?”

“What, a wife?” He sneered. “I never thought something like this would come from you, Miyoshi, but why don’t just find one for yourself, then—though, I can’t actually imagine anyone would put up with you.”

“How rude, am I that unbearable?”

“For most people.”

“You’re not most people, Kaminaga.”

The reply made him look at the other spy. Miyoshi’s eyes met his, but there was not even the slightest crack on his poker face. Neither on Kaminaga’s.

“You’re right,” he said, “I’m not most people.”

It was then like one of those times when they were discussing something, but got suddenly preoccupied with their own minds. There were only sealed lips and words that left unsaid while the music played on to the next; people kept on dancing, around the room, around their shadows, just like the world revolving. Kaminaga imagined the most likely predicament he’d be having if he hadn’t gotten into the agency. He’d probably still have the job he used to like—though it was never as challenging as being a spy—whilst soon turning thirty and his parents would kept urging him to find a bride. That father and mother too, would’ve probably been upset if they had known what kind of life their son would be living; a life that threw names away, buried his real identity, and trained him to be a heartless machine.

That’s what he thought, but he’d never know; Kaminaga hadn’t sent even a letter home for more than a year.

“But would it even be satisfying,” Kaminaga’s sentence came out a surprise, even to himself, “if our lives were just to marry, have children, then die after being good contributors to the society? I never get why people see it as the way things are supposed to be—like I never get why one must always find a spouse—but I think that if you live only for those things, then it’s not worth the trouble.”

“It’s out of the question, with the way we are now,” Miyoshi shook his head slightly, twirling the liquid inside his glass, “you said it, Yuuki-san said it; the life of a spy means only dark solitude. Social and filial obligations have nothing to do with us, and we do not conform to others’ standard in regard of what is proper or satisfying. But in turn, we’ll be alone.”

When the man turned his head to Kaminaga, his foxlike eyes glinted under the hall light. “Then could we claim that our way of life is more satisfying? You answer it, Kaminaga.”

“We’ve always been alone anyway,” and perhaps also lonely, but he would never say it outright, “so it won’t really make any difference.”

“Indeed,” Miyoshi’s eyebrow lifted a little; his gaze knowing, “if it did, you wouldn’t have volunteered to be a spy, would you?”

Kaminaga had never told anyone that he volunteered, and was convinced he was the only one who did until he grew closer to Miyoshi. Nobody, even perhaps including the other spies, would understand if he tried to explain why he did—yet this one particular man knew, and saw him as clear as water in the pond. When did Miyoshi figure it out? Was it around the same time Kaminaga realized that the other man had also volunteered? Perhaps he wasn’t being all too delusional when he thought there was just something, unnamed and unknown, between them; a feeling that was strange as well as unfamiliar, but exactly what he’d been longing for.

He knew he was falling deeper and it had to stop. But how could he? When he finally found something—someone, who put meanings into the things he’d been doing and emotions in the smiles he’d been giving. For the briefest moment, Kaminaga knew that he wasn’t merely an automaton, and a thing that people called heart was still functioning somewhere inside him, beating to the tune that only the two of them was able to hear.

“Say, Miyoshi,” weighing the glass in his hand, Kaminaga said softly, “even if the life waiting for us is only darkness and loneliness, it wouldn’t be entirely impossible—don’t you think?—that somewhere, at one point, we came to love someone and ceased wanting to live in this solitude. It’s beyond our control, if someday our hearts are to belong to somebody else.”

The question hung in the air like thin mist after a morning rain. Kaminaga waited for an answer for so long that he felt the passing time had formed a clot inside his chest, and that he was meant to wonder forever for Miyoshi would not answer. But in between the waning music and the bows of the dancers, he found the other leaned in closer to him, holding his glass as though he was asking for a toast.

Kaminaga stared at him, perplexed.

“You’re right, it’s not entirely impossible.” Miyoshi’s smile was one of those which meaning he couldn’t yet to decipher. “Then to minimize the possibility, shall we throw this thing away before it really belongs to anybody?—That’s what we are trained for, after all,” the man said, with that alluring lilt Kaminaga had come to love so much, “cheers, Kaminaga.”

Their glasses met in a pleasant clink.

#joker game #jga #kaminaga #miyoshi #kamimiyo #miyokami #fanfiction #joker game fanfiction #myfanfiction #Alitheia's works #canon universe #love/friendship #angst #slice of life #non-chronological

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