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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Desperate Measures 1

Warnings: nonconsent and rape (miniseries); stalking, fear, intimidation.

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: At first, you think it’s a joke when you get the strange messages, but when they don’t stop, you realise too late how real it all is.

Note: This was going to be a one shot but it kept going and going and going, so it’s gonna be split in 2.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Have a piece of American dream Open up, and swallow, on your knees And say Thank you I'd like some desperate measures, please

💌

The first picture was sent on Monday. You remembered it clearly unlike most Monday mornings. It was the same boring ritual; a coffee that had long turned cold, a pen that wouldn’t write, and a computer that ran as if on dial-up.

The only bright side was that your small desk was near a window and you could look out onto the city streets, though they were hardly less miserable than your own existence. You were so high up the people were merely moving specks. You often found yourself distracted by the crowded traffic below.

You were drawn from such a distant reverie by the buzz of your phone. You kept it face down by your monitor. Despite the temptation, you limited yourself to succumbing only once an hour. You sat back and your chair creaked as it tilted beneath you. You checked the time in the corner of your screen and reached for your cell, the rubber case scuffed and scratched at the edges.

Notifications for the same emails that sat open in front of you and a few personal ones in the next bubble. Another for the game you played on the subway or when you were overly listless, several updates for your hoarded apps, and a single text.

There was no number attached to the message, only the foreboding thick font that read ‘unknown number’. You chewed on your thumb as you leaned forward on your elbow and swiped your screen up and punched in your password. The screen flashed and you hit the last notification. No words, just a file. You hit download.

You blinked as it ate your data and the image of your apartment door appeared. You glanced around and laughed to yourself. You shook your head and keyed in your response; ‘very funny, Eva.’ You hit send and set your phone back down.

Your old friend liked her jokes and you hadn’t missed her little ploy the last time she showed up at your place angry over her latest fling. You had thought she was getting a picture of the stain on the hallway carpet that looked suspiciously like blood… or feces… or a mixture of the two.

You went back to your work and switched the document you’d been picking at for most of the morning. Your job was as entertaining as watching paint dry then peel from age. When you applied for an editing position, you’d expected thrillers and melodramas. Instead, you got dry textbooks and educational guides.

You yawned and pushed through to your scheduled break. You dumped your cold coffee and headed down to the café to grab another. The coffee they kept in the office was cheap and bland. You ate your salad in the lunchroom as you watched the clock tick away. You checked your phone. No reply to that unusual text. Eva must’ve chickened out.

You scoffed and switched chats to send her usual number an ‘lol’. You tucked your phone in your pocket and punched back in before you headed back to your desk. A couple more hours and you’d be home to stew in the early week daze.

The last half of the day went quicker and your subway ride was uneventful; well, for New York. You walked home from your stop and pulled out your phone as you climbed the stairs. You slowed down and moved your feet blindly. You’d finally gotten an answer. ‘Eva?’

You opened the chat again and hit the image. It filled the screen and you squinted as you came to a stop. The stain wasn’t there. Your landlord had finally relented and had the entire hallway torn up and replaced with an even duller shade of grey. The picture had been taken since then; within the last month. The last time you’d seen Eva, you’d gone to hers.

Your chest clenched and you gulped. You hit the little icon in the corner of the conversation and hit ‘block’. You continued to your floor and neared your door. You looked down the hallway and back to your door. You tried the handle. Locked. You took a breath.

It could still be a joke. The stoner next door, Perry, had your number from when you agreed to feed his cat that one time. Maybe he was high or just trying to be funny. Still, it hadn’t come up under his name. Well, he might have changed his number since then.

You unlocked your door and scurried inside. You made sure to turn the latch and slide the chain into place. You tossed your bag beside the mat of shoes and added your flats to the pile. You dropped your phone on the coffee table and untucked your work shirt as you walked around the small living room.

Nothing was out of place, not that you truly believed whoever it was had gotten past your door. You rubbed your forehead and went to the small kitchen that looked out into the living room. You grabbed a can of sparkling lime whatever and plopped it next to your phone.

You went to your bedroom and stripped yourself of your stiff work clothes and pulled on the night shirt crumpled atop your blanket. You looked down at the thin grey cotton and reached under to unhook your bra. You flung it in the corner knowing you’d be cursing yourself when you couldn’t find it the next morning.

You flopped onto the couch and grabbed your remote. You turned on some mindless Youtube video and opened the mobile game which had taken too much of your life from you. You connected three and four and five and somewhere in between your existentialism kicked in and had you wondering at the point of it.

You closed the app before it ate all of your battery and your phone shook in your hand.

‘You didn’t tell me who Eva is.’ The message flashed over the top of the screen then disappeared. You pulled down the notification and hit it. You were certain you’d blocked the number. The other messages were gone though and ‘unknown number’ was still emblazoned across the top. You blocked the convo again and dimmed the screen.

You plugged in your phone and sprawled out across the sofa. You stared at the television, a blur and a buzz to your frantic mind.

It was dark already when you dragged yourself off the couch and heated up a microwave dinner. You ate it without tasting and your phone chimed to signal a full charge. You left it as it was on the arm of the couch and resumed your repose on the sofa. You fell asleep to the angered commentary of a gamer trying to fight a clam.

You awoke with a start. You blinked through your daze as your television showed stills of mountain and grassy fields. You sat up and grabbed your phone. You checked the time; midnight. Another message.

‘She’s the one you had coffee with last week.’ It said.

You gaped and dropped your phone. You looked around as if whoever it was would be hiding in the corner. You shook as you reached down and took the phone. You swallowed and began to type.

‘Whoever this is, this isn’t funny anymore. Cut it out.’

‘Funny?’ The response came quickly.

‘I mean it. Stop.’

‘Good night, sweetheart.’

You recoiled at the message and bit your lip to keep it from trembling. You checked your door again, the chain still in place, checked every inch of your apartment in your paranoia. Nothing. You let out a breath and took a blanket from your bed and huddled up on the couch. You turned on a playlist, not sure you’d be sleeping much that night.

💌

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep again but you rose before your alarm. You drank your coffee as the sky turned a duller shade of grey. You went through your usual morning dance and headed out the door with a bagel hanging from your mouth. You chowed down on your way to the subway. You felt your bag buzz as you stepped on the train.

You ignored it and clung to the bar as you counted the stops. You got off and stopped by the coffee shop. You ordered a black tea and headed down to your building. Your desk was as it was when you left it. The chair was tucked in and your mouse was hidden behind the keyboard. You sat and booted the laggy machine.

As you waited for it to start, you stirred around in your bag for your phone. You had another message. You dreaded opening it but the circle just kept spinning in the middle of the monitor. You hit the bubble and your phone unlocked.

You took a sharp breath as the image glared back at you. It was you, on the subway, that morning judging by the jacket, staring at the door as the photo was taken unknowingly. Your phone slipped from your grasp and you spun in your chair.

Everything was as it should be. Your co-workers looked just as dead inside as you. Your boss was boxed up in his office on a ‘conference call’. You shuddered and turned back to your desk. You burned your tongue on your tea and signed into your computer. Your phone vibrated beside your shoe and you bent to retrieve it.

‘You looked tired this morning’. The next message blipped on the screen.

You were quick to sweep the clock upward and type. ‘Who the fuck is this?’

‘Sweetheart. I don’t like that kind of language.’ The response was quick and sharp, even in text.

‘Tell me who you are? Why are you doing this?’

‘One thing at a time.’ The letters burned into your vision.

‘Who are you?’ You keyed in again. No answer.

You set the phone down and watched it. Five minutes, no buzz. You hovered your hand over your mouse and tried to focus on your monitor. Your heart was so loud in your ears, your head began to pound.

💌

When you got on the subway at the end of the day, you looked around frantically as you settled into a seat, your bag hugged to your chest. You glanced up and down the car a dozen times over as you awaited your cue. Your toe tapped anxiously and you stood so fast you were dizzy when your stop came up.

You rushed down the sidewalk, peeking over your shoulder every other step. You didn’t say anything unusual; no one following you, no one watching. You ran up to your building and unlocked the door clumsily.

You hurried up the stairs and down the hall to your apartment. The key slid in roughly and you turned it so quick, you were certain it would bend. You skirted inside and put the chain in place.

You looked down as your thin-soled boot brushed over something. A pile of flyers slipped through the slot in your absence. You picked them up and sorted through them, an envelope amidst the mess. On its face, it read ‘for my sweetheart’.

You hovered by the door, staring at the envelope. After a moment, you slung your bag down on the floor and placed the flyers on the end table by the lamp. You clicked on the light and ran your thumb along the lip. You carefully opened it and pulled out the paper inside. You unfolded it and your breath caught in your chest.

It was a sketch, quite well done, of you. You’d worn that sweater last week. You went to the park and walked around, sat by the fountain, tossed rocks into the babbling basin. They had been there, whoever it was. How long had they been watching?

And they had been at your door, close enough to slip this through the slot. You folded the drawing and shoved it back in the envelope. You stomped into the kitchen and tossed it into the bin beneath the counter. You backed up and gripped the other counter behind you. You felt a lump in your throat.

What the fuck was going on?

💌

You started going in early to work; catching the train half an hour before your usual one. You left late and changed your route between the station and your building. You entered through the back, hopping the low concrete barrier between the apartments and the backlot.

Still, it only gave you a single day of peace. No messages, no pictures; and you thought the game was over. You hoped it was. That it was just a sick joke that had finally grown tiring.

But Thursday saw another image of you just outside your work building. Friday, another of you on the subway.

The weekend was listless. You did your shopping quickly and on Sunday, you wore a loose hoodie to the laundromat. You could find nothing peculiar around you. The city was full of sketchy people but none seemed to be watching you. The hordes were still about their own lives; ignorant of those around them. You felt entirely alone, as if you were being hunted.

Monday was much the same as the last but how could it ever be dull again. You shut your phone off so you could focus on your work. When you were finally done, you dialed the toll-free number for your provider. You took a taxi home and spent two hours on the line but you got your new number and a sense of relief.

You kept your phone on, ringer on max, and nothing. You watched the screen rather than the television but it only lit up with emails and a random text from your mother. You slept in your bed that night,almost soundly.

You still kept your eye over your shoulder. Still searched out any sign of unusual interest. Perhaps you were clueless or maybe your lack of response had finally gotten through to them. Once their messages bounced back as out of service, they might have given up. They got their laughs, now you wanted peace.

It lasted until Friday.

A full week and you were certain it was over. You finished work and stopped by the liquor store for a bottle of wine on your way home. You could finally let loose. Life had gone back to its usual tedium. You browsed the reds lazily but pondered a pack of coolers instead. Your phone buzzed. You slid it from your pocket out of habit.

‘That cabernet on the top shelf is on sale. Just to your left.’ You stared at the message and backed away from the shelf. You looked around but all the other customers seemed intent on their own purchases. You gulped and blocked the unknown sender.

You left emptied-handed and ran for the train. You got home an hour later than usual. You raced up the stairs and stopped dead in front of your door. The tall gift bag looked familiar; it had been hanging in the store by the till. You neared and peered inside. The golden cap of the wine that had stood in front of you; top shelf.

You bent and flipped the little card attached to the string.

‘For you, sweetheart. Enjoy your weekend.’

You stood and grabbed the bag. You glanced up and down the halls and stormed back down the grey carpet. Your feet hammered down the stairs and you burst through the back doors. You threw the bag into the dumpster and heard the shatter. Your lip trembled as you spun and sprinted back inside.

When you reached your apartment, you called Eva. You struggled to open your dresser with one hand and started pulling out clothes and stuffing them into your neon duffle. She finally picked up.

“E-eva,” you stuttered, “can I-- Can I stay with you, please? J-just a night or two--”

“Wohoa, whoa, slow down,” she said. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t… I can’t tell you now. I’m just-- I’m freaking out and I can’t stay here.” Your voice cracked and you sniffed back tears, “I-- Please. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I… I have plans but I can cancel,” she offered.

“No, no, I… don’t--”

“You’ll have the apartment to yourself,” she said, “I’ll just let Ray know I’ll be late.”

“What time are you supposed to--”

“Seven but it’s fine,” she assured you. “You okay?”

“I… Wait, you’re fucking around with Ray again?”

“Do you want the couch or not?” She half-kidded, “you want me to meet you there or--”

“No, no,” you whisked into your washroom and grabbed your toothbrush, “I’m coming right now.” You returned to the bedroom and shoved an armful in the bag. “Eva… thank you.”

“Stay on the phone,” she said softly. “Please… you’re scaring me.”

“Okay,” you zipped up the duffle, “yeah, I’ll stay on.”

💌

You hung up as you came up to Eva’s building. She met you at the door, a thick silence between you as you sensed what she wanted to ask you. You weren’t sure how to tell you. You weren’t sure if you could.

You pushed the door closed behind you as you entered her apartment. It was cuter than yours, a spiral staircase led to a loft above and the curtains were lace and matched the dainty pillows on the couch. You placed your bag on the floor and she turned to you.

“Just give me a moment,” you said. She didn’t need to ask.

She went to the desk in the corner of the spacious room and turned on the ring light of the round mirror. She fished through her make-up box and pulled out her eyeliner. She was already done her base and highlight. You neared and hovered just beside her desk.

“I don’t even know…” you stopped yourself and went to your bag. You pulled out the paper you’d shoved in the side pocket on your way out. “Look.”

You crossed to her again and unfolded the sketch on her desk. She glanced down from drawing a wing along her eye and lowered the pencil. She blinked and shrugged.

“Look, someone dropped this through my mail slot. No address on the envelope, just this.” You felt crazy. “And I thought it was all some joke. They were sending me pictures, of me, of my building… I blocked them but they just kept on. I even changed my number.”

She scrunched her lips and looked back to her mirror. She finished her other eye and set the pencil down.

“You call the police?” She asked calmly.

“I… the drawing is all I have. I just deleted the messages when they came because… well, I didn’t think much of it at first. Not until… There was a bottle of wine waiting for me when I came home. The very same I was looking at right before I booked it for my train,” you rubbed your cheek, “Eva, I’m not crazy. I swear.”

“I believe you,” she said, “why wouldn’t I but… there’s nothing you can do but keep a log of what happens from here on out. Screencap everything.”

“You think… you think the police would help if I did?” You asked.

“Not much. Stalking isn’t really something they take seriously. I knew this girl in college-- Well, the evidence can at least get you a restraining order… if you ever figure out who’s sending you all this,” she paused and glanced down at the drawing. “Whoever it is, they got talent.”

“I’m sure they’d be happy to hear that,” you scoffed and crossed your arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay here with you?”

You pondered her offer but shook your head.

“As much as I think you should send Ray along, no. I can’t ask any more of you.” You sighed and grabbed the sketch. You dragged your feet to the couch and flopped down on the cushions, “I really do appreciate it.”

“I always told you to get out of that neighbourhood,” she said as she searched her assortment of make-up, “but you know I never mind you hanging out.”

💌

You spent the night on Eva’s couch, alone. She didn’t get home until three in the morning and you waited until noon for her to wake up. When she did, her face was smeared with eyeliner and her hair a mess.

You hadn’t touched your phone since the night before. You chewed your thumb as you waited for her to emerge from the shower, restless and unsure what to do with yourself. She slammed the lid down on her coffee machine and growled as she turned and crossed her arms.

“Are you okay?” she asked sharply.

“I’m sorry,” you said as you stopped pacing. You barely remembered getting up to walk circles around the coffee table, “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Well, how about a latte?” she yawned behind her hand, “my coffee machine is fucked… again.”

“Um, maybe that’s best, get out and… distract myself,” you twiddled your fingers as your stomach ached. You hadn’t eaten anything since the day before and that was just after noon.

“We’ll get lunch,” she rubbed her forehead, “soak up the wine.”

You shook your head and said nothing. She always drank too much around Ray but you didn’t have the energy for that argument again. So you stayed quiet and watched her disappear into her bedroom.

She emerged as you zipped up your purse. You didn’t bother with your phone as you waited by the door but felt listless without the device. It was like a shield you used when you went out in the world. It kept you from eye contact or awkward conversation.

You set off and headed down the street to the pub that seamlessly shifted from brunch to ladies’ night every Saturday. You ordered breakfast tacos as you sat just inside the large floor length windows that looked out onto the shady patio. The other guest lent a sense of normalcy as they carried on their own conversations and reminded you that you were just another ant on the hill.

As you got your latte in the stemmed glass, Eva pulled out her phone and scowled at the shaking. She was so wrapped up in her texts with Ray she hadn’t even mentioned the reason for your overnighter. You were happy for it and yet, you couldn’t think of anything else.

“Jesus, I told him we were having breakfast and he’s blowing up my phone,” she huffed, “just a second.”

“Eve,” you said as she stood and slid her thumb across the screen, “our foods gonna be here--”

“I won’t be long,” she promised and lifted the speaker to her ear and turned away, “Ray, I’ll be over later, promise. I barely slept--”

Her voice trailed away as she wove between tables and pushed out onto the patio and went to the short fence to chat beyond the ears of diners. You sipped from your drink and stared down at the splintered curve of the table. You couldn’t stay with Eva forever and she was hardly any comfort in her distraction with her on-again, off-again dirt bag. Maybe, if you moved--

“There you are, sweetheart,” the low voice startled you and you sat stalk straight as a figure smoothly slid into Eva’s empty chair, “you gave me quite a scare, up and leaving without a word…”

You stared wide-eyed at the stranger across from you. Well, you knew who he was. Everyone in the city, in the country, even the world, knew Steve Rogers. He smiled at you as his blue eyes glimmered. His posture was cool and confident and it was you who felt out of place.

And you knew, it was him. The shock was not enough to fuel your denial as that feeling deep down assured you of it. That little voice that told you this was your tormentor and that you were fucked.

“I…” you breathed and blinked. You couldn’t find the words, you hardly understood the storm of emotions flowing through you. You glanced through the window as Eva threw her hand up and continued berating her phone, “it’s you?”

“I hate that it has to be this way,” he said, “you know, my work keeps me out of town so much and I just wish we had more time.”

“Wha…” you gulped and gripped the edge of the table, “why--?”

“You haven’t been answering me,” his smile fell, “I don’t like being ignored.”

Your hand shook and you kept it in your lap to hide the rising terror along your spine. You sat paralysed as he sighed and glanced around the restaurant. He tilted his head and pushed his shoulders back.

“You threw out my gift,” he said evenly, “that wasn’t very nice.”

“Go…” you uttered, “go, please--”

“Sweetheart, we’re just talking,” he took a gulp of Eva’s Americano casually, “I missed you… I miss you every day and it hurts that we have to be apart.”

Your shoulders slumped and you clutched your hands in fists on your lap. You could scream but what good would that do. He was Captain America, the first avenger, a hero.

As if your thoughts sent a banner waving, a young kid approached the table and smiled nervously as he held one of the colouring pages supplied by the restaurant in his hands.

“Um, Captain, uh, America,” the kid stuttered, “will you sign-- Will you sign my--?”

The kid smiled through tight lips and held up the colouring page. Instead, Steve chuckled and took his cap from his head and fished around in his pocket. He pulled out a sharpie and signed the brim and placed it back on the kid’s head.

“There you go,” he said.

“Thank you, Cap!” the kid almost squealed, “oh my gosh!”

“No problem,” Steve laughed and watched the kid run back to the table where his mother sat, she waved at the man across from you and mouthed a thanks. He cleared his throat and stood as he tucked away the marker, “sorry, this is why I didn’t wanna do this in public,” he gripped his hip with one hand, “but… we’ll have our time.” He slowly backed away, “I’ll text you. You’ll answer.”

He grinned one last time and strode away. He stopped before the door as he held it open for Eva and she batted her lashes at him as she gushed. You could guess at her star struck words but couldn’t make them out. He left as she finally stopped her babbling and she almost skipped over to you.

“Oh my god, did you see him?” she trilled, “I didn’t think he’d be even better looking in-person.”

“See who?” you asked dumbly as you tried to disguise your discomfort in your latte.

“Steve Rogers,” she announced, “ugh, even without your phone, you got your head in the ground.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #miniseries #series #two parts #desperate measures #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers

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novamirmirsblog · 3 years

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Mission gone right

Hi guysss. This is 18+ ty :3

Word count: 1596

Genre: Smut, kinda dark? R is bad basically

Request: no

Warnings: Wanda sex magic, swearing, alcohol (think that's it)

A/N: we got votes for both angst and smut so I kinda combined both? I feel like this isn't angsty enough so imma write something super angsty next. Then I'll go back and do some more spidey duo xxx

"What to do, what to do, what to do..." You paced back and forth around your living room. "Ugh!" throwing your hands up in the air, you flopped down on the sofa, leaving your legs dangling over the arm. Switching on the TV, you saw that there was a new display at an art gallery. You looked around your walls and saw nothing as pretty as the painting on the TV.

"I guess one more couldn't hurt..."

The TV then changed to show that the Avengers were making a special appearance considering Tony Stark owned the gallery and it was it's opening night.

With newfound determination, you got dressed in a red dress with a neckline that dropped all the way to just above your navel and a slit that went all the way up to the middle of your left thigh. The dress gave you the freedom to move but still looked like it was just something pretty to wear. You grabbed your clutch (because god forbid a woman has pockets) and headed out.

~~~~~

Soft music played as people with more money than sense wandered around the gallery. Women wore pearls loosely and men had watches just begging to be taken. You had to focus. You were there for one reason and one reason only. The oil painting apparently cost millions. You didn't really care about that - it was a nice touch, sure - but not the reason you wanted it. You told yourself it was because it was a pretty picture but maybe it was more to do with the fact a pretty mindreader was going to be there tonight.

So far, you had done well to avoid the guards and cameras. You had stolen from this place a few times before and you knew that they rarely changed their security because you had cameras on them. You had seen a few of 'Earth's mightiest heroes' and had tried to ignore the disappointment you felt when it wasn't Wanda.

It's not like the two of you had history, but you were at HYDRA when the twins were too. You were a failed experiment. Your powers were useful, but not useful enough. They also took a little time to form. Time that Strucker didn't want to waste. You, Wanda and Pietro spent about a year together before they went to the 'good side' and you delved deeper into what your powers could do for you. You'd think that HYDRA would love the fact you could convince people of anything and erase all traces that you had ever been somewhere, but apparently they weren't looking for spies, they had enough of those.

You strolled around until you made it to the bathroom, waiting there for the rest of the evening. You had everything planned, walk up to the picture, take it from it's frame and leave out the front door. Everything was going according to plan until you heard footsteps behind you.

"Hey! What are you doing there!" You opened your mouth to speak but you were grabbed and dragged round the corner and into a storage room.

It was Wanda.

"What the hell are you doing here!" Wanda whisper shouted as guards jogged past our hiding place.

"Same as you apparently." You realised Wanda hadn't noticed how close the two of you were, cupoards were very small...

"You just fucked up my night out."

"Sorry darling, at least my night is going splendidly." You winked and leaned in closer, watching as the anger transformed to lust on her face.

You were taller than Wanda by maybe half a head so she had to look up at you as she tried to formulate a reason to get out of there. Technically, she didn't even have to be there. She could walk out right now and the guards wouldn't even bat an eye and yet something was making her stay.

You moved slightly and Wanda groaned ever so faintly. It was so quiet that you would have missed it if you hadn't been so close to her. You then realised that your leg was conveniently placed between Wanda's, and what can you say? The storage cupboard was small. It wasn't your fault.

Okay, it was maybe a little bit your fault.

"Oh darling, has no one been taking care of you?" You mocked, leaning in and whispering over the shell of her ear "Want me to take care of that?"

Wanda froze even more. Her mind was racing so fast that there was no possible way for her to read yours even though she was desperate to do so. She hadn't seen you in forever but when she glanced over when Tony was telling her a particularly boring story, she couldn't help but gasp at how beautiful you were. Wanda had hoped that you were just there to admire the art work but she knew, deep down, that that would be too good to be true.

"Cat got your tongue?" You were unaware of the turmoil you caused for Wanda. Too focused on your own fun and the way her suit hugged her in all the right places. You wanted nothing more than to fuck her there and then. You didn't want a meaningful relationship with Wanda, just something physical. The two of you were occasional fuck buddies when you were both at HYDRA - the relationship turning slightly toxic very quickly.

You both liked to see how quickly one could get the other jealous. Whether that meant flirting with other people and making sure the other one saw, or just outright sleeping with whoever was nearest. While it seemed that Wanda had grown out of that toxicity, finding love with a glorified Alexa, you never had.

"Why save me darling? I can handle myself."

"You were two seconds from being caught" It was a little disheartening to hear her accent slipping, the last little piece that reminded you of the Wanda she used to be.

"No. No I wasn't." you lifted her chin up and spoke into her neck "I don't need you to save me."

Wanda let out another groan, much louder this time as her hips bucked on your thigh.

"Shhh" You chuckled lowly "We don't want anyone to hear you, right?"

You grabbed her hips and kissed her. It was rough and fast. Wanda whimpered and began grinding harder, trying to get more friction. One hand traced lightly on Wanda's thigh and the other tugged at her waistband. Wanda got rid of them instantly with her magic and you slipped your hand into her panties.

"Shit sweetheart, your toaster not giving you the satisfaction you need?"

"I don't want to think about him" Wanda let out with a slight growl, her accent getting heavier again, like how it was when you knew her.

"Sweetheart when I'm done with you, you wont think of anything else for months."

"God you're a cocky bitch. You're all talk and no action."

"No?" You pushed two fingers into her. You weren't feeling nice enough to start off slow and she was wet enough for it anyway.

Wanda's back arched as she let out a moan and you kissed her chest, her blazer falling open to reveal an extremely unbuttoned shirt. She tried to push your hand further, desperately chasing her release but you pulled away, taking your hand and licking your fingers, watching as Wanda gulped.

"Please..."

"But darling, I think the guards are gone." You smirked as the witch basically threw a temper tantrum.

"So? I haven't felt this good in so long" Wanda shoved her own hand back to where yours was. It was strangely extremely hot to see her try and get back to her high. She suddenly opened her eyes and looked at you. You could see the red wisps surrounding you before you nearly doubled over, looking up at Wanda who wore an evil smile.

"Now you know how I feel. Are you going to get back to it?" Wanda had never done this before. When you had known her, she had little to no control over her powers, only being able to control things with her mind and read others thoughts. She had been practicing.

"Fuck you."

"Well yes, that's what I'm trying to get you to do."

You dropped to your knees and took the rest of her underwear off, slowly licking her as she swung a leg over your shoulder. "Shit y/n, just like that."

You worked your fingers in and out of her, feeling everything you were doing to her on yourself thanks to her magic. You got slightly sloppy as you both neared your climaxes. You suck and bit along her thigh and on her clit until you felt her clench around your fingers. You both saw stars as her magic continued to fuck you, drawing out your orgasms until you were both sweaty messes.

~~~~~

You never did get the painting that night. You didn't really get anything you wanted that night. You sat on the top of your building, one leg swinging and a bottle of something strong in your hand, just watching the city buzz at night. As you sat there watching the tiny people come home from their jobs to their loving families, you wondered if you could have had something like that with Wanda. Then you laughed as you remembered that she was probably wrapped up in the arms of Siri, taking another swig from the bottle, you got up and prepared for your next job.

#wanda x fem!reader #wanda x y/n #wanda marvel #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #gay smut #smut #dark?

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peterrparrkerr · 3 years

Text

Hit mad falls in love with target - read on ao3

*-*

Peter waved frantically at Tony when he walked into the lab, eyes glued to a computer screen.

"Tony, quick! Look!" He demanded, nearly vibrating in his chair.

Tony made his way over, hands clasped behind his back as he leaned over Peter's shoulder.

"Isn't it awesome?" The young man asked, waving his hands around.

"What am I looking at?" Tony asked.

"Its cancer," Peter said. He points to different colored lines in the graph, all jagged and fluctuating. "This is breast cancer, and this one is pancreatic, skin, lung."

Tony hums as Peter continues to list each colored line as a different form of cancer.

"I was able to isolate the individual cells from everything else, and- look, look!"

Peter snatches Tony by the shirt sleeve and tugs him from one monitor to the one on the other side of the lab. He taps his fingers on the screen, bouncing on his heels.

"These are the cells after being treated with non-radioactive therapy," Peter said, looking up at Tony. "The number of cancer cells is cut in half within a week!"

Peter then drags Tony across the lab again, babbling excitedly as he does so. "Do you know what this means? This means we can start human testing! And we can market the treatment for practically nothing!"

He shows Tony a live feed of the treatment in action from a TV monitor.

"Think about the possibilities," Peter grinned. "Anyone can get treated, no matter their financial standing. And the treatment isn't as harmful as chemo or radiation. It doesn't attack the body as a whole, it isolates the cancer cells and leaves the rest of the body alone.

"No more hair loss or side effects. And we could cut remission in half too," Peter said. "Just think, this time next year, we could start selling to hospitals all over the world."

Tony smiles down at the younger man. He had known within the first day of meeting Peter that he wouldn't be able to follow through. He's glad he hadn't.

"Have you told anybody else?" He asks casually.

"Ned knows," Peter said. "And Bruce, but they were here when it happened."

"Where are they now?"

Peter gives Tony a wry smile, still too excited about his treatment working.

"I sent them home a couple hours ago," he said. "We've all been awake for almost three days, so I'm sure they've gone to bed already."

"You should be in bed too, don't you think?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter waves him off, shaking his head as he goes to his work desk. "I'll sleep later," he said, pulling his lab coat off and draping it over the chair.

He's dressed in his usual outfit; comfortable pants and a button up.

"Plus, I knew you'd make your rounds around this time, and I wanted to tell you," Peter said with a grin, grabbing his personal items.

That was part of Tony's cover. A janitor for the building Peter worked for. Hes wearing a navy blue jump suit, though he's left the cart out in the hallway.

"I'll walk you to your car," Tony hums, leading the way out. When he'd first started this, he'd offered his company to get closer to Peter -to find his vulnerabilities.

Now though, he does it because he's protecting the young scientist.

He'd skipped out with 45 thousand dollars paid to kill the boy, but as the days had gone on, and Peter had grown comfortable with him, Tony realized he couldn't steal him from the world.

Peter was incredible. He worked tirelessly to find a cure for cancer. He's already created a new insulin for diabetes that he's made available to everyone for only $10 a month -something not many other medical professionals liked.

Peter was making enemies left and right, and Tony decided to make it his job to keep him breathing. If not for the rest of his life, then for as long as it takes for the young scientist to see an end to cancer.

The boy wasn't getting much in terms of money for his creations. In fact, from what Tony's come to learn, the boy doesn't own a car, and rents an apartment with his aunt.

He sees enough to live paycheck to paycheck and this new treatment won't do much to better his life, but he's not concerned with money. He wants to make Healthcare more effective and affordable.

Tony's got morals. Enough of them to know when a hit is a bad investment. That didn't stop him from taking his payment anyway.

The two make it to the car park. Its dark, the overhead lights buzzing annoyingly. Its empty, save for a couple cars belonging to a few of the security guards, and the car Peter shares with his aunt.

It's an older model, grey paint chipping and metal beneath rusting near the wheels. Peter talks animatedly beside him, lands flailing in front of him.

Tony glances around them, scowling as he takes in the familiar cement structure.

"Wait," Tony says, just as Peter's pulling the keys from his pocket. They're a couple feet away from the car, and the hairs on Tony's arms and neck stand on end.

"What is it?" Peter asked curiously, reaching for the door handle.

It's just as Peter grips the handle that Tony sees the wire connected to the metal lock on the other side of the glass.

Tony is quick to react, grabbing Peter by the arms and wrenching him away from the door.

Peter yelps in surprise, but its cut out by the sound of a small explosion. Tony braces for the blast of air that knocks the two off their feet, and grits his teeth at the heat that follows.

Peter's pressed against the cement, Tony weighing down on him. His ears ring, but he quickly gets to his feet, unzipping his jumpsuit and grabbing the .9 mm from the waistband of his jeans.

The car is ablaze, crackle-popping and sizzling. Its just the cab thats on fire, but Tony knows its only a matter of seconds before the flames reach the engine and the fuel line.

Tony looks around him, trying to find the culprit -though he knows from experience that the man won't be here.

He grabs Peter by the armpits and pulls him to his feet. Blood smears against his forehead and jaw. His hands and arms are scraped up and Tony can tell his knees are busted too, but it doesn't look like anything damaging.

"We gotta go," Tony urges, already half dragging the younger back towards the building.

"You-you have a gun," Peter gapes, stumbling after Tony, arm in the older's hard grip. "Why do you have a gun?"

Tony reaches the door for the stairwell.

"I'm a hired gun," Tony said, glancing up, then down, gun following his eyeline before pushing Peter towards the stairs going up.

"I thought you were a janitor," Peter gasped, climbing the stairs and swaying. Tony places his free hand on Peter's lower back.

"Thats just a front," Tony confessed. "We got to get you out of here."

"Someone blew up my car," Peter said, panting as they continue up to the first floor. "Aunt May is gonna kill me."

"Not if Buck doesn't kill you first," Tony grunted, pulling Peter out of the stairwell and into the main lobby.

Tony's car is around the side of the building, but its open to attack. Tony can't keep Peter trapped inside the building though, so he risks it.

Their feet slap loudly on the asphalt as they run for the nondescript black SUV Tony had taken to driving.

He checks around the vehicle, under and inside before issuing Peter into the back seat.

Tires screech as Tony peels out of the parking lot.

"What- whats happening? Tony, what- why do-"

"Someones trying to kill you, Peter," Tony said, blowing past the guard tower at the exit of the parking lot.

"But why?" Peter asked dumbly, voice slurring slightly as more blood turns the side of his face crimson.

"I'll answer all your questions when we're safe," Tony promised, eyes frantically shifting from the area ahead of him to the rear view mirror.

Peter must really be feeling the effects of his head slamming into the concrete, because he doesn't protest.

"Lay down," Tony orders, merging into traffic and slowing down. "Lay low until I say."

Peter does -Tony thinks mostly because of his head injury. Tony relaxes a little, knowing the scientist won't be gunned down in the back seat.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere safe," Tony answered, keeping an eye behind him.

He doesn't see a tail, but he takes a round-about way to his safe house, just outside of Queens.

When they get to the small cabin, Tony checks the building before helping Peter inside.

"I think I have a concussion," Peter mumbles, swaying on his feet as Tony guides him to the kitchen chair.

"I don't doubt it," Tony agrees, setting his gun down on the table beside Peter's elbow before grabbing the first aid kit.

He pulls another chair over in front of the young scientist and opens the red box.

"Let me see your hands," Tony orders. Peter does, palms up. Tony begins to clean them and his arms.

"Tony," Peter says, breaking the silence. Tony doesn't say anything. He reaches up to clean the blood from the side of Peter's cheek.

"Is your name actually Tony?"

Tony makes eye contact before nodding.

"And you're a hired gun?" Peter asks, slightly breathless. "Like, like a hitman?"

"Yes," Tony answers, reaching the cut on Peter's hairline. Peter winces, but doesn't pull away.

"You kill people for a living?"

"Yes."

It takes Peter a couple seconds, but it seems to hit him. Hes bolting to his feet, the chair clattering behind him.

Tony leans back into the chair, watching as Peter begins to pace.

"What- Tony, you have to tell me whats going on," Peter demands, hand on his head. Tony knows from experience that pacing tends to help the scientist expell excess energy.

"I will," Tony nods. Peter continues his pacing. Back and forth beside the kitchen counter.

"Why- why are people trying to kill me?" He demanded. "Who blew up my car?"

Tony sets the paper towels down on the table, knowing Peter won't sit still for him to properly tend to him.

"The one who blew up your car is another hitman," Tony said. "Goes by the name Winter Soldier."

"You called him Buck," Peter said, pointing an accusatory finger at Tony, eyes narrowed.

"I did," Tony nodded. "Hitmen tend to run in the same circles, though we don't always like each other. Bucky was probably hired to finish the job."

"Finish the job," Peter repeated dumbly. "I'm the job?"

Tony nods, once more letting Peter process. He knew Peter would figure it out without Tony's help. He was smart.

"Finish the job means someone already tried to- to kill me," Peter said, panting as he continued to pace. The wound at his hairline is bleeding sluggishly, dripping down his temple and towards his jaw.

Peter wipes at it without thought, smearing blood against his cheek. He pauses to look down at his hand, fingers glistening in red.

He touches his forehead again, as if remembering he's still injured, then turns to Tony, accusation and fear in his Bambi brown eyes.

"You," he said softly, in disbelief. "You were hired to kill me, weren't you."

"I was," Tony nodded.

"But you haven't," Peter said. Tony can practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. "And, and now whoever hired you hired the Winter Soldier."

Tony only nods. Peter takes a shuddering inhale and has to grip the counter with a bloody hand to stabilize himself.

"I'm- I'm- who- who would want to-to kill me?!"

"The payment was anonymous," Tony said. "Thats how it works. But whoever it is is threatened by you."

Peter looks at Tony incredulously. "Me? Why me? I'm the least threatening person -like- ever!"

"You've cost Big Pharma millions with your insulin," Tony said. "You've patented it, so they can't take it and upcharge the way they've been doing. And if your treatment for cancer is a success, you'd be costing them even more."

Peter takes a moment to process that before he nods. "Right, yeah. I knew I was going to make a lot of people mad about that, but. But I never expected anyone to actually try to kill me."

"Money is a powerful motive," Tony said, a little too much experience leaking into his tone.

Peter hears it, because he stops his pacing, shoulders dropping. Exhaustion seems to pull him towards the floor like an anvil tied to his spine.

He sways a little, and Tony's about to offer him the chair again, but he moves to it willingly. When he sits, their knees are barely touching, and he blinks dazedly at his bloody hand.

Tony grabs a clean rag and leans forward to clean up the blood from Peter's head. The younger lets him, still processing and no doubt sluggish from the concussion.

"Why didn't you?" Peter asked after Tony had taped gauze to his hairline. It was patchy and poorly done, but it would help.

"Why didn't I what," Tony hummed, using an alcoholic wet wipe to clean the remaining blood from Peter's hands. The boy winces at the burn to his scraped palms.

"Kill me," he said, swallowing thickly. "You had plenty of opportunity."

Tony sighed, setting the wipes down before leaning forward and looking Peter in the eye.

"Because I believe in the work you're doing," he said honestly. "And I'm going to make sure you finish it."

Peter blinks once, twice, before breaking eye contact and sighing, body eating to melt into the chair as the air leaves his lungs.

"Come on," Tony said, standing up and slipping the gun into the waistband of his pants. Then offering his hand. "This place is safe. Theres a bed you can sleep in."

"I shouldn't sleep with a concussion," Peter said weakly, taking Tony's offered hand anyway.

"Its mild, I'm sure you'll be fine," Tony mused, heading deeper into the cabin to the bedroom.

The bedroom isn't anything special. A twin bed in the corner, a four drawer dresser and a blackout curtain.

Peter climbs onto the bed, not bothering with the covers or taking his shoes off. Tony thinks its best he sleep with them on anyway, in case Bucky finds them.

Tony moves to leave, grabbing the handle, and Peter bolts upright again, eyes wide.

"You're okay," Tony promises. "I'll be right outside."

Peter gives the barest shake of his head. "Stay here, please," he says softly.

Tony nods, shutting the door and turning off the light before making his way to the side of the bed. Theres an old step stool there, and he sits down at the head of the bed.

Peter lays back down, body too tense to ever fall asleep. Tony keeps his ears attuned to any noise that could alert him to Bucky, or anyone else, gun sitting perfectly stop on his knee, finger off the trigger, but ready at a moments notice.

"Tony?"

"Yes, Peter."

Peter shuffles around, and Tony turns his head just in time to feel pillow soft lips connect with the corner of his mouth.

He can't help but smirk as Peter settles back down. "Thanks for not killing me."

Tony chuckles at that, leaning his head against the wall. "I may be a hitman, but I've got morals," he says into the dark room. "Besides, nobody likes cancer."

Peter laughs tiredly at that before reaching his hand out and grabbing Tony's. Their fingers interlock, and Tony doesn't really know which one of them initiated it.

"You're going to be okay," Tony continued. "I wont let anyone hurt you. You're safe with me."

"I know."

#marvel #tony stark #peter parker #ironman #starker #spiderman #my writing #ao3 #sfsummerbingo21

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blackandgoldandeverythingnice · 3 years

Text

among the fields of gold - c. mcavoy

Pairing: Charlie McAvoy x female!OC

Summary: A little sneak peek into the future of charlie and nellie from i’m so glad to know as they attend the 2026 Olympics

Word Count: 4,682

A/N: Just the most self-indulgent little fluff I could come up with because I love writing them.

Warnings: none! the smallest hint of adult content but that’s about it.

“This is so fucking cool – did you ever actually tell me how cool it was to be at the Olympics?” Charlie was bouncing along the streets of Milan and swinging Eleanora’s hand as they went, a couple of other Team USA players behind them as they used the off day to do the touristy things they hadn’t yet been able to do during the first round of games.

“You’ve done plenty of World’s before, it’s almost the same.”

“It absolutely is not.” He argued back, glancing down and smirking at the little scowl on her face. He ignored the groans of a couple from the guys at the fact they were about to start bickering. It wasn’t their fault; he didn’t invite the idiots to come with them.

“You’re just excited because you’re staying in the Village and there are a bunch of girls there too – you don’t get that at World’s.”

“Yeah, I’m there for the girls.” He rolled his eyes and squeezed her hand before leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

The team was housed on their own floor in the dedicated USA building and it was like being back on a road trip in Peewees. They’d cruised through the round-robin, winning every game in their group and were heading into the elimination games. A lot of the guys had played together for years through development camps and national teams and they felt good about their chances.

They’d been wandering the streets of Milan, seeing as much of the sites as they could since all they’d seen were the inside of rinks. While Charlie had wanted to spend it just with Eleanora, some of the guys had caught him in the lobby with her on their way back from breakfast and insisted on joining them. She had pretty much become their team mascot: at every game, made a new sign for each and chatted with all the families happily. It made something in him burst in pride at the sight of her fitting so seamlessly into his life now. It hadn’t been an easy road to get there.

“Can you two not?” one of the Hughes brothers interrupted.

“Yeah, let’s stop this before it really gets rolling.” Matthew Tkachuk cut in, sweeping past Charlie with a smirk as he hit his shoulder and made his way across the square towards the Duomo. A few of the other guys sped passed them, running around the square and changing pigeons.

“And for a former Olympian, could you walk any slower?” Auston Matthews teased as he came right up close behind them.

Annoyed, Charlie shoved his teammate away just as Eleanora pinched his side. “I’m sorry, put some respect on the only gold medalist in this little crew right now. Also, I’m six months pregnant, dick head – you try carrying a bowling ball around your middle on these cobblestone ass streets.”

“Technically, a McAvoy has a gold medal – shouldn’t have changed your last name, babe.” Auston grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulders but making sure to gently guide her as they walked around the various tourists and other athletes who had done the same thing they did.

“Can you get the fuck away from my wife?” Charlie groaned, checking Auston away so he could pull Eleanora into his side.

The rest of the guys walked ahead, leaving the two of them alone. Charlie smiled down at the way Eleanora was basking in the bright, cold air, her cheeks flushed and nose a little pink. There was a visible glow around her. He’d always thought it was bullshit when they said pregnant woman glowed but since the second she’d taken the test, there was a light happy aura around her. Walking with her tucked into him like she was slowed them down but Charlie liked making sure Eleanora was okay, to the point that she might kill him at some point if he asked her again how she was feeling.

“How are you – ”

“Don’t you dare ask how I feel right now, Charlie McAvoy.”

He pouted down at her. “It’s a valid question, they keep you scheduled so late for some of the media shit.”

“It’s called my job, babe.” She hip checked him gently. She’d stayed involved in the figure skating community and this year they’d invited her to provide commentary for the ladies’ singles. Turns out she was incredibly personable in front of the cameras and enjoyed talking to the young skaters. “I’m just happy none of your games conflict with the skating. I don’t think they’d love me ‘calling out sick’ only to have me show up on TV on the glass yelling at you to play better.”

“Excuse you, I have the most minutes played and highest rating.”

“Yes, baby – you’re very highly rated.” She snuggled into his side, and he laughed when she slid her hand into his back pocket and squeezed his ass.

The pair of them walked slowly around the square, laughing at the guys as they ran around. A few of Team Canada showed up along with a few of the Czech players. Since most of the teams were made up of NHLers, all the teams were friendly off-ice and trying to control them was like corralling kids at their first away tournament. A few fans stopped them as they went but most of them were interested in getting pictures with Eleanora rather than any of the guys, something the team loved to tease Charlie about. Joke was on them, he couldn’t be more proud to watch the way people adored her.

“How’s my boy doing?” he changed tactics as a group of young girls walked away after spending five minutes taking pictures with her and asking what it was like to win gold.

“I think he wants pizza and pasta.”

“Pizza and pasta? Not or?”

“You’re really gonna ask how I feel then judge your pregnant wife for wanting all the food?” the glare she shot him was enough to have him throwing his hands up in defense.

He leaned down to kiss her but she dodged him. “No way, bud – find me food then you can kiss me.”

“In my defense, I asked what my son wants to eat – you’re incidental to me checking up on him.”

“Do you want to die? Is that your plan? You want Team USA hockey to lose the gold because their captain was murdered by his pregnant wife?”

“Why’s Goldie threatening your life?” Jake popped up behind them, scaring the shit out of Charlie while Eleanora had seen him coming.

“He’s judging how much I want to eat.”

“Well, come on my fellow sewer rat – if Chuckie won’t love you right, I will.”

Jake offered her his hand and she took it, tossing a teasing smile behind her as the two of them started towards one of the side streets to find a suitable restaurant leaving Charlie to scurry after them.

--- ---

Eleanora chewed distractedly on her cuticle, staring at the clean sheet of ice waiting for the guys to step on for warmups. As she had for every single game, she was standing on the glass at the corner where her and his family had sat for the entirety of the tournament. The jersey of Charlie’s she had on barely fit over her belly and the maternity leggings made her feel like a sausage. Bouncing on the balls of her feet anxiously, she was as nervous as she’d been for her own gold medal skate.

“How’re you feeling?” a voice interrupted her nervous thoughts and she glanced over to see her father-in-law sliding into the seat next to her. After the first win, they’d sat in the same order they’d been in for every other game that followed. While Charlie wasn’t overly superstitious, Eleanora was and there’d been half a dozen little rituals she’d come up with for this Olympics.

“Jesus, your son ask you to ask me that?” she teased back at Charlie Sr. She rubbed her belly slightly and tried not to wince at the pain in her back. “Pretty sure this asshole is sitting right on my sciatic nerve.”

“Can you not call my first grandson an asshole?” Charlie’s mom appeared on her other side, looping her arm through hers. “But seriously, you alright?”

“No pain I haven’t dealt with before but this kid is already putting me through the wringer. I have to do this for 3 more months?”

Mrs. McAvoy frowned sympathetically and rubbed her arm softly. “Sorry, Ellie but yes. It’ll be worth it though.”

Just as she spoke, the guys stepped out and Eleanora zeroed in on Charlie leading the way, pushing the pucks off the edge of the bench and onto the ice.

“I can’t believe this – my son is going to be an Olympic medalist no matter what.” His mom said, sniffling slightly as she watched them start skating.

“We want gold, Jen – right, kid?” Senior nudged her in the side.

Eleanora smiled slightly. “I just want him to do the best he can.”

“Bullshit, you’re more competitive than he is. I saw you cursing him out last game for - and I quote - ‘a bullshit lazy turnover’.” Holly added as she joined the conversation, pushing her mom out of the seat next to Eleanora so she could keep the right lineup.

They all laughed while she just shrugged. “No one plays for second place...although I do kinda like being the only gold medalist. It’s how I get him to do things for me when I think I deserve them.”

The noise in the arena started to swell as the Canadians took the ice and Eleanora felt the familiar buzz and thrill of the pressure building. She hadn’t been able to see Charlie this morning, only getting a quick FaceTime as she’d been wrapping up interviews with some of the figure skaters who were getting ready for their final performance the following day.

“How was he this morning?”

Kayla shrugged. “Quiet. He missed you.”

She frowned, cursing herself for not having been there. It was their routine for the last few years, she was always the last person to see him before he went into the locker room for a big game. It felt like a bad omen that she’d missed giving him a last kiss before the biggest game of his career.

But just then Charlie skated by them for the first time, helmet off and his hair flowing behind him. He tapped the glass as he went by but kept skating in loops. After a couple laps and drills, he returned to the corner and stopped in front of her.

She couldn’t hear him over the crowd but he was pointing at her and gesturing halfway across the rink to where there was an opening in the boards. She followed where he was pointing to see one of the arena staff standing by the entrance to the locker rooms and she got the hint, squeezing through the seats as fast she could. The belly didn’t exactly help her move quickly or the people that kept trying to stop her.

He was already waiting for her by the time she reached the space, his gloves off and resting on the side. He reached out for her and she stepped eagerly towards him. On skates he was so much taller than her that she had to stand on tip toe just to wrap her arms around his neck. She was cognizant of the eyes of those in the area on them and she was sure there were cameras zooming in too.

“I couldn’t play the biggest game of my life without getting my good luck kiss.”

The stares and camera clicks faded away as she stared up at him. Knowing how the media was obsessed with “Their Story”, this was bound to be everywhere in no time. It’s why they liked their moment to be private before a game but right now, Eleanora couldn’t quite care because all she wanted was Charlie to win.

Gently, he brushed her stomach and just as he did, the baby gave a hard kick. Charlie grinned, leaning down to press his lips firmly to hers and she smiled into the kiss. “I think someone’s telling you he wants you to win.”

“I plan on winning it for his momma, gotta impress her.” He smirked, his face still inches from hers.

“I love you, baby – so fucking much.” She pressed one final kiss to his lips. “I’m not gonna tell you just making it to the gold medal game is an achievement – even though it is. You know what you need to do. Go fucking win it.”

“I shoulda had you do the pump-up speech for the boys.” He kissed her nose quickly before pulling back and grabbing his gloves to return to warmups. “I love you, babe – see you on the ice after.”

She watched him skate away, her palm flat against her belly and she felt another strong kick. Rubbing her stomach she looked down at the USA stretched across her front, smiling softly as she whispered to herself.

“Don’t worry, little man – daddy’s gonna win it for us.”

--- ---

The second period started with the game tied at two. Charlie had an assist and had already spent almost twelve minutes on the ice. Despite most of the off-ice friendships and even teammates who were playing against each other it was getting chippy. They all clearly wanted it and weren’t holding back. Tkachuk had managed to draw three penalties while only going to the box once himself.

Eleanora felt like she was going to lose her voice the amount she’d been screaming throughout the game. It seemed like part of Team Canada’s game strategy was to go after Charlie as much as possible. They’d been hitting him hard and there’d been one particularly nasty penalty he drew when Chabot leveled him with a late hit. Charlie had been slow to get up from that one but within the first thirty seconds of the powerplay, he’d put a pass right on Auston’s tape for the tying goal.

There had always been something both exhilarating and nerve-wracking about watching Charlie play. When he was on the ice, she only watched him, not even noticing where the puck was or what action was happening unless he was involved.

It was partially how she was able to react a second before the rest of the rink when she saw Chabot coming from behind him, hitting him hard and sending Charlie headfirst into the boards. He was splayed out flat on the ice while his teammates immediately rushed to his defense, Auston and Tkachuk jumping Chabot before Auston was pulled away by Dougie Hamilton. Eleanora felt like climbing over the glass to get to him and Kayla was gripping her arm tightly.

“Get up. Get up. Get up, Junior.” His dad was begging while Eleanora just kept staring in horror.

After what felt like hours but was probably only a minute, he slowly tucked his legs up under him and managed to get to a kneeling position just as the team doctor reached him. He was clearly still dazed, holding one hand on his helmet as he slowly got up. Gaudreau had come over and was kneeling next to him, offering to help him up but Charlie waved him off.

The arena applauded as he stood up, but Eleanora couldn’t feel the relief everyone else did as she watched them lead Charlie to the locker room.

“He’s okay. He got up on his own. They just have to check him out for protocol. He’s okay.” Kayla was chanting and all Eleanora wanted to do was rush to the locker room. Instead of watching the rest of the game, she stared at the locker room entrance, praying Charlie would return to the bench.

They ended the second period down by one and only during the intermission did she let herself pull her phone out to find the replay of the hit. They all huddled around together watching intently, only slightly reassured that Charlie had gotten up on his own and made his way quickly down the tunnel without support. It felt like time was moving in slow motion as the ice was cleaned. Finally, the lights dimmed again and the players started back out on the ice.

It felt like a weight was lifted when she saw Charlie hop out last, doing quick laps to warm back up as he shook his legs out. As he went by them, he tapped the glass and Eleanora felt like she was going to cry just from the quick wink he gave her.

“Thank god.” His mom sighed a breath and Eleanora felt lightheaded as she rubbed her stomach aimlessly. The baby had been active all game, bouncing around and kicking more than usual. It’s like he could sense what was happening around them.

The third period wasn’t any less stressful, Team Canada was clearly content to play defense while Team USA threw everything at them but couldn’t seem to find the back of the net. But then in the last 27 seconds of the game, Charlie caught a pass from Quinn Hughes and buried it in the top corner of the net to tie the game. The roar of the arena felt deafening as they all jumped up and down, screaming happily while the players mobbed their captain. The crowd clearly expected overtime, neither team wanting to give one up in the remaining seconds of the game.

But then Conor McDavid of all people misplayed the puck in the neutral zone and it landed on Jack Eichel’s stick who shot down the ice on a breakaway with only 7 seconds to go, shifting to his backhand as he slid the puck between the goalie’s legs.

If it was possible, the roof would’ve blown off the top of the arena. Team USA hadn’t won since the 1980 Miracle on Ice game and the place was shaking with excitement. USA gear and equipment was strewn across the ice like confetti while Team Canada stared on in disbelief, some kneeling together watching while others had already started to make their way towards the locker room.

People were hugging her tightly and screaming in her ear. Eleanora wasn’t even sure they were all people she knew. Charlie Sr. pulled her away from whoever was holding her and into a tight hug while the rest of the family crowded around jumping as they celebrated. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she tried to spot Charlie on the ice but her vision was blurry.

Sobbing into one hand, the other pressed tight against her stomach she felt another strong kick which only made her sob harder. It was better than her own win because she hadn’t had any true family to celebrate with besides her coaches who had become replacement parents to her. This was entirely different and felt like they’d all won it.

The celebrations continued on the ice as the McAvoys all made their way towards the same opening Eleanora had talked to Charlie before the game start. Other wives and families were already there, pulling each other into hugs, most of the moms crying happily while a few of the dads tried to fight their own tears except for Jim Hughes who was openly crying as he held his wife tightly to him.

Standing on the glass so she could watch, Eleanora scanned the sea of blue jerseys to try to find Charlie, biting her lip to try to stop crying. She was still contemplating scaling the glass but knew the guys deserved to celebrate with their team first.

Finally, her impatience grew and Eleanora, just popped the door open and started to make her way onto the ice. Once the dam broke, the rest of the families followed, ignoring the staff asking for them to stay off the ice until they had carpets laid down.

It was decidedly difficult to maneuver on the ice in sneakers and a pregnant belly but she moved as quickly and carefully as she could towards her target. Their eyes locked and Charlie broke away from the guys to get to her. When he reached her, he went right for her waist, dragging her up and off the ice as he twirled her around as she held tightly to him.

Neither of them spoke at first as Eleanora pressed kisses all over his face as he laughed until he could kiss her back. It was awkward to be held up so Charlie carefully set her down on the ice, one hand tucking protectively against her back so she wouldn’t slip and the other pressed gently on her belly as he leaned down for the sweetest kiss they’d ever shared.

“I told you I’d win it for you.” He whispered, pressing his forehead against hers.

“Not before scaring the shit out of me first.” She shot back but squeezed his waist tightly, her face landing in the sweaty material. “I’m so fucking proud of you, Teddy.”

She stared up at him, and despite the fact that he had just won the biggest game of his life, he was staring at her like they were the only two people in the world.

“This is almost as good as our wedding night.”

She gave a watery chuckle in return. “Just the wedding night not the wedding itself?”

“Eh, that was okay too.” He teased just as the rest of his family joined them. Reluctantly, she released him so he could hug his family, stepping back to give them a moment.

A few of the guys paused to hug her as they went by but mostly she just stood there watching Charlie beaming at everyone around him. The camera crews were starting to show up as the staff worked to get the carpets out and set up the podiums. Eleanora knew they wouldn’t get a private moment together for hours and she tried to melt into the background but Charlie was having none of that, snagging her hand and dragging her towards him as they started to interview him.

From her position under his arm, she stared up at him as he spoke, beaming proudly as he talked about the win and how special it was for them. She was so focused on him she didn’t realized they’d asked her a question.

“Nellie.” Charlie whispered, nudging her with a nose to the top of her head and she glanced at the reporter who was beaming at her.

“I was just asking how this compares to your own gold medal win just four years ago?” they repeated the question.

Eleanora grinned and squeezed his side tighter. “There’s no comparison.” She started, enjoying some of the frowns that followed before continuing. “What Charlie and the boys did was so beyond historic and I’m so proud to have been able to watch it happen. This team worked so hard and never gave up. I’m just thrilled I was able to share in it. Although I’m pretty pissed that I can’t win arguments anymore by saying ‘well I have a gold medal so you have to do what I say’.”

Everyone laughed in response, Charlie squeezing her side lightly.

“I’m sure you guys haven’t seen yet but the video of you two right before the game has become quite popular.” Eleanora flushed slightly as they continued. “Charlie – did you get any last minute advice?”

She pinched his side, hoping he’d lie but the smirk on his face already told her differently. “She pretty much told me that just getting to the medal game wasn’t enough and that I knew what to do. Pretty sure the exact words were ‘now go fucking win it’ and honestly, I can’t really say no to my wife so I did.”

--- ---

It was nearly three hours later by the time Eleanora and Charlie were walking into her hotel room and shutting the door so they were finally alone. They were planning on changing then meeting up with everyone to celebrate. Most of the guys’ flights weren’t for another day or two so they planned to enjoy what little remained of their Olympic break before they’d have to return to their teams for the rest of the season.

Charlie face planted onto the king-size bed. “Fuck, you’ve been sleeping on this for two weeks while I’ve been on the worst twin mattress in the world?”

Eleanora giggled, pulling her jersey off leaving on her loose t-shirt, she slipped out of her sneakers and kicked them towards the door so she could sit and join him on the bed. Despite how happy she was, she was exhausted and the pain in her back went from dull to stabbing on a dime. It took a little effort for her to climb up onto the bed and get comfy as she curled up on her side.

Charlie inched up so his nose was brushing against her swollen belly. Her hand immediately fell to his hair, running her fingers through gently and scratching his scalp. He brought his arm up so he was hugging her middle and pressed his lips against her.

“Hi, Tripp.” He whispered causing Eleanora to tug his hair gently.

“Baby, no. Even if he ends up Charlie the third, we are not calling him Tripp.”

Charlie ignored her. “Ignore mommy, I’ll make sure you get a cool nickname.”

She rolled her eyes but he kept talking. “I don’t know if you heard all that noise but now you have two parents with gold medals. We’re pretty big deals.”

“Kid was bouncing all over the place for most of the game before settling directly on my sciatic nerve so I couldn’t get comfortable.”

“Be nice to mommy, sweet boy.” He mumbled and pressed a kiss to her stomach before turning up so he could stare at her. “I think I won because of you.”

“You won because you’re an amazing hockey player and leader. You did this. Next up you can win us a Cup.” She smiled softly, stroking his hair as he crawled up so their faces were level. They lay there quietly together, staring at each other and enjoying the peace. They’d both turned their phones off, telling his family they’d see them at the restaurant that USA hockey had reserved for them. For now, they just wanted to be alone.

Carefully, Eleanora brushed Charlie’s hair off his forehead. “Your head okay? I might kill that Canadian fuck.”

Charlie laughed but cringed slightly. His head hurt more than he let on but he passed concussion protocol and had a few days off before he’d have to be back on the ice for a game.

“Are you okay? I know when you’re in pain, Nellie.”

She winced despite trying to smile as he tucked his hand under her top to lay on her bare skin, soothingly running his thumb along belly.

“Just pregnancy, or so I’m told. I need to figure out how to get him off this nerve or I’m gonna spend the flight pacing the aisles because I won’t be able to sit.”

Charlie frowned. “I hate seeing you in pain. And I’m worried you won’t want the five that I want if this one is such a pain in the ass.”

She snorted, inching forward to kiss him softly. “Let’s get through meeting this little man first then we’ll talk more, kay?”

“You’re the love of my fucking life, you know that?” he gripped her neck gently.

Smiling, she leaned forward to steal another kiss. “Lucky for you, it’s mutual. Now…I bet we could find a comfy position for you to fuck me in before we have to go to the restaurant.”

A slow smirk spread across Charlie’s face as he rolled her carefully onto her back so he could lean over her.

“I can definitely do that.”

#charlie mcavoy #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl imagines #charlie mcavoy fic #boston bruins #me writing hockey fics #hockey fic #my writing #hockey imagines #hockey blurbs #annnnd we're back #because i'm just gonna keep writing these two #because it's fun for me #I hope you like it!#let me know if you have requests or feedback

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

guarded | jhs x reader | chapter one: fan mail

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you. now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 2.8K

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

***************************

You stare at the words for a moment before folding the paper in half and slipping it back into the envelope you pulled it from.

Honestly?

It’s not the first time you’ve gotten a threat. It happens from time to time in this line of work.

But this note plucks a chord of anxiety inside of you. Must be the eleven missed calls you suspect go hand-in-hand with your little love letter. Your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing for a half-hour now.

“Are you okay?”

Hyejin’s voice filters through your thoughts. She’s taken stock of the strange look that crosses your face in the split-second before you school your features back into a mask of calm.

She’s observant like that.

“Oh yeah, it’s nothing,” you say, shaking your head. “Just some fan mail.”

Your phone buzzes against the papers on your desk -- again -- and Hyejin raises an eyebrow.

Make that twelve.

“Tell you what,” she says, standing to stretch her legs. “I’m ready to go blind from reading these files and I could use an Americano. You want one?”

“Actually yes,” you exhale. “That’s exactly what I need. You’re a lifesaver.”

She gives you one last are you sure you don’t need to tell me anything? look before opening the door to your office. You reassure her with a soft smile but the second the door to your office closes, you blow out one long, heavy breath and reach for your phone.

you: what the hell? [ 3:15 PM ]

namjoon: this can’t wait [ 3:15 PM ]

you: clearly [ 3:16 PM ]

namjoon: come in ASAP [ 3:16 PM ]

You groan.

Namjoon knows you avoid that place at all costs.

It’s not a good look for you to be seen there -- and so as a rule -- you’re not. Your brother is usually understanding about your stance on the matter. But it’s not like him to push so there’s probably a damned good reason why he’s summoning you to his office like some wayward employee.

You glance back at the stack of files on your desk, riddled with notes and highlights. Even after a morning spent tag-teaming with Hyejin, there’s still a shitload of work to be done. But then you look back at that envelope sitting on your desk and pick up your phone again.

you: give me thirty minutes [ 3:19 PM ]

namjoon: okay [ 3:19 PM ]

Paperwork is going to have to wait.

*****************************

You’re not a moron.

You know what people say about your family, what they say about you.

You know what they whisper when you show up to charity galas and fundraising dinners. You know what they murmur the second their false smiles fall and you turn your back. They say that the money that paid for your prep schools and top-notch legal education is blood money; paid for by one of Seoul’s oldest and most powerful crime networks. They say that you took a job prosecuting crime to assuage for your family’s sins.

They’re not wrong.

Your father -- your cruel, unsophisticated father -- shelled out top dollar to put you in fancy schools and fancy clothes and fancy riding lessons. He threw elaborate birthday parties where he showered you with extravagant gifts in front of guests who were only there to celebrate because they feared turning down the invitation.

So others saw your material good fortune and mistook you for a pampered mafia princess. None of them had to come home every day to the stench of death and destruction. None of them had to endure the gossip and the looks and the cold shoulders.

That was a burden you shared with only one other person.

You and Namjoon huddled together during your lavish and turbulent childhood, leaning on one another for strength because no one else understood. He was the only safe harbor you had in the storm you both lived every day.

And then you left.

You walked away from your father and the Gajog and crossed the country to study law. Far from the vicious gossip and prying eyes and violent drama that always awaited you in Seoul. You walked away and decided that you weren’t going to live that life anymore.

But you also walked away from Namjoon.

Now it’s a cold comfort, seeing your brother seated so naturally at the throne of power your father vacated when he died. The old-school brute-force organization your father ran for decades is a thing of the past. In its place, a well-oiled, highly-organized machine -- making far more money and far fewer mistakes.

Namjoon single-handedly pulled the crime syndicate into a new era, dusted it off and dressed it up. He legitimized parts of the business, took up residence in one of the city’s most expensive buildings, and basically dared law enforcement to come get him.

They still haven’t.

And there isn’t a day that Namjoon doesn’t cross your mind.

There isn’t a day that you don’t pray that the menace that existed inside your father never takes root inside of your brother. You pray that he can shoulder the burden of his responsibilities without rotting from the inside out.

If anyone can, you tell yourself, it’s him.

**********************

Namjoon cuts an imposing figure behind his grandiose wooden desk.

He’s seated when his assistant first opens the door to his secure private office, but as soon as you follow her inside he makes to stand.

He looks so tall now, you think -- as though it’s been years since you’ve seen him.

In reality, it’s only been a few months since your last brief encounter, but it’s still hard sometimes to recognize the handsome, polished man in front of you as the kid you grew up with. You’re hit with a pang of regret that it’s been so long since you’ve seen one another face-to-face.

Two men stand guard on either side of Namjoon’s desk, which doesn’t surprise you. Your brother is always surrounded by guards these days.

The only one you recognize is Min Yoongi, who gives a slight bow in your direction as you cross the broad expanse of the office. You’re certain you’ve never seen the second man, who stands eerily still on your brother’s other side. You can feel the stranger’s stare from a distance and avert your eyes.

You bow to Namjoon and take a seat in the plush chair facing his desk. A fond look passes over his features but when he opens his mouth to speak his tone is businesslike, serious.

“I know you don’t like coming in here,” he begins carefully, “and so I have to apologize for asking you to make an exception. I hope you understand this can’t be helped.”

“Yes, of course,” you say softly. “Sorry it took me a while. I’m buried with a new case.”

Namjoon nods.

“That case is the reason why we’ve run into a bit of trouble in the past few days,” he admits. “Some of our friends across town are pretty upset about it. Apparently very agitated and hoping to leverage the fact that you’ve been assigned to this case to their advantage.”

“I see,” you murmur.

You knew the men you’d been assigned to build a weapons trafficking case against were part of a rival organization -- but on paper they were low-level foot soldiers, considered expendable in a business like theirs. Why the Ssijog were so worried about losing a couple of nobodies from their ranks was a bit puzzling.

“I guess that explains this,” you say, reaching into your bag for the letter delivered to your office.

You hand it to Namjoon and he reads the words with a tight expression before turning it over to the man you don’t recognize. It’s a relief when the stranger’s focus moves away from you and onto that paper. You take the opportunity to get a closer look at him.

The first word that comes to mind is sharp.

Everything about the man is sharp -- from his meticulously tailored suit to his severe jawline to the angles of his body. Intense dark eyes set in honey gold skin and black hair carefully styled off of his face. You’re caught staring when his eyes snap up from the paper and back to you.

You clear your throat, gaze darting back to your brother.

“They want you to make this go away.”

You sigh.

“I can’t do that. I don’t have that kind of authority. And besides, it would attract all the wrong kinds of attention to me and -- “ you pause, choose your next words carefully, “ -- to my ties to this organization.”

Namjoon concedes your point with a slow bob of his head.

“Right. So we have a problem,” he admits. “Because the message we’re getting is that they’re willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want. And it’s been made quite clear to me that hurting you is not off the table.”

You take in a deep breath.

“This is Jung Hoseok,” Namjoon says after a short silence, motioning to the stranger at his side. You straighten when the man acknowledges you with a barely-there bow.

“I’ve assigned him to your detail.”

“Detail,” you repeat slowly. “Like a bodyguard.”

“Exactly like that.”

“Namjoon, I -- “ you look away from the man to turn your attention back to your brother, “-- I can’t have one of your guys following me around. People are going to talk.”

“Amsaja,” he sighs, “They talk anyway.”

You bristle at his use of your childhood nickname.

You know it’s meant as an endearment but it still feels infantilizing in front of his men -- one of whom hasn’t seen you in years, one of whom knows nothing about you at all. You’re a grown woman, a successful prosecutor, and more than just Kim Namjoon’s little sister.

“Joon -- “

There is annoyance behind the way you fire off his name and one of your brother’s eyebrows lifts in warning. A silent reminder that in this room, in this building, in this realm, he is the absolute authority. You swallow back the argument on the tip of your tongue.

“Namjoon,” you start again, this time with a restrained calm. “Please. Let’s have this conversation in private.”

He drums his fingers across the surface of his wooden desk before nodding his agreement and raising a hand to motion his guards out the door. You wait until both men are gone and the heavy door to Namjoon’s office clicks shut to speak again.

“You’re putting me in a terrible position here,” you exhale. “I’ve worked so hard to -- distance myself. I can’t walk around with a reminder of my family history at my heels.”

Your brother stands from his seat and walks to an ornate sideboard, pours liquor from a heavy crystal decanter into a highball glass. He takes a slow drink before speaking.

“You are worried about your image; I’m worried about your safety. Those two concerns are not equal. Not to me.”

Your face heats at the kernel of truth in your brother’s assessment.

Certainly, it’s about how it looks, but it’s so much more than that. It’s about the life you’ve worked so hard to build away from the drama surrounding your family name. It’s about a future that depends on the burial of your past.

Namjoon leans against his heavy wooden desk, arms crossed.

“You should know me by now,” he continues. “If I thought these were empty words, I wouldn’t have bothered you with them.”

“I know that,” you admit quietly. Doesn’t make the pill any easier to swallow, though.

“Hoseok is under orders to stay with you at all times. Obviously, he won’t be physically at your side while you’re working, but he will be close by. And he will be staying at your apartment for the time being.”

You blink. “In my apartment?”

A flash of irritation crosses your brother’s face. “Yes, in your apartment. I’m privy to information you don’t have.” He takes a long drink from the highball glass. “It’s necessary until we have this situation under control.”

“I don’t know this man,” you argue, and that eyebrow lifts again at the rising heat in your tone. “Can’t you give me Yoongi or Seokjin or someone else?”

“No.”

“Thanks for considering that, Joon.”

You don’t even bother to hide your displeasure now, climbing out of the plush chair and walking over to the massive window that makes up the back wall of your brother’s office. You look down at the street. From this height, the cars below look like toys and the people look like ants.

Namjoon joins you in front of the window, drink in hand.

“I don’t want to fight with you, I want to protect you. Jung Hoseok has worked for me three years now and he spent many more years serving in the military. He is the man I want for this assignment and I need you to trust me on that, too.”

You say nothing, staring out the window and feeling suddenly exhausted. You hate everything about today -- the letter, the case, this arrangement you now have to endure. You hate that this is the first real conversation you’ve had with your brother in months and you’re locking horns.

“Okay,” you whisper after a while, reluctant to let the tension escalate. Your brother has asked so little of you since you severed ties with the Gajog -- and effectively, with him. You swallow past the taste of guilt when you turn to look him in the eye.

“I’ll play ball, Jaegyueo.”

Your brother seems to soften when you use his childhood nickname in return, shoulders relaxing as he takes another sip from the highball and looks out over the city he basically runs.

“Thank you, Amsaja.”

*************************

Hoseok

“Has she seen this?”

Hoseok stares down at the glossy photograph in his hands.

There’s little to be gleaned from the details in the picture. There are no shadows, no reflections, no personal items to give away any clues as to who took it or when.

You are asleep, one bare shoulder peeking out from underneath your plush bedding -- your hair spilling out onto your pillow. You appear blissfully unaware of the danger standing just a few feet away.

“Hell no,” Namjoon exhales. “And I would like to keep it that way. She’d probably never sleep again if she saw that shit.”

Hoseok hands the photograph back.

“I need the two of you to figure out who got into her apartment. And then I need you to bring him here.”

Namjoon doesn’t finish that train of thought -- he doesn’t have to. Hoseok and Yoongi hear clearly everything he hasn’t said.

“We’ll find him,” Yoongi vows, and Hoseok nods his agreement. “It’s gonna be handled.”

Namjoon scrubs a hand down his jaw, eyes still glued to the picture on his desk.

He’s an uncharacteristically even-tempered boss, particularly in this line of work. Seeing him this unnerved is unnerving to Hoseok, who’s seen him handle countless shitty situations with an unnatural calm.

“She’s my sister,” Namjoon says quietly. “I don’t expect any of you to understand our dynamic, but I need you to know that her safety is my top priority.”

“Understood,” Hoseok murmurs and in that moment, the heavy door to the office opens wide. Namjoon shoves the photograph into his desk drawer.

Hoseok studies you as you trail Namjoon’s assistant across the length of this massive office.

The first word that comes to mind is small.

You’re much smaller than Hoseok imagined you’d be, basing that assumption almost entirely on Namjoon’s tall and solid frame. Physically, you are nearly the opposite of your brother, delicate features set in smooth skin, any appearance of height owed directly to the high-heeled shoes you’ve carefully matched to your business suit.

Hoseok notes that you have the same stubborn set to your jaw, though -- a defense mechanism that slips momentarily when you lock eyes with your brother. He catches the brief flash of sadness in your face before you manage it away.

In the years he’s been with the Gajog, he’s only heard your name a handful of times -- almost always followed by hushed exchanges and pained expressions. Never once has anyone breathed your name in front of Namjoon, though. That appears to be an invisible line everyone understands not to cross.

But now you’re here, in the flesh. One piece of the puzzle revealed.

Hoseok watches your exchange with Namjoon with curiosity. It’s not the easy back-and-forth one would expect to see between a pair of siblings -- but there is an underlying affection between the two of you. A quiet respect.

Amsaja, Namjoon had called you. Lioness.

Hoseok doesn’t see a lioness when he looks at you, though.

He sees a rich girl desperate to prove how much better she is than her own flesh and blood. He sees a social climber so eager to make a name for herself in this city that she walked away from her own brother to make it happen.

This is the moment that Hoseok decides that you’re not the kind of person he could ever respect.

Because unlike you, he would never put ambition above loyalty.

Never.

**********************

tag list:

@yoongbug @brilliantlybasicb @lemonjoonah @illnevertrustmyselfagain@sunkissed75 @taetaewonderland @shadowhale

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts mafia #hoseok mafia au #bts tsundere #btscreatorscorner #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #ficswithluv

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libraryofloveletters · 3 years

Note

Okay so potential fic idea? You’re PG’s best friend and she sets you up on a blind date with Derek 🥺

Dinner And A Drink

Derek Morgan x Reader

Warnings: first date awkwardness, alcohol mentions and consumption

Category: fluff

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: the convos are kinda dull cause first date awkwardness and ishi, I'm so sorry I took so long to write this omg

----

“I promise he’s a nice guy!” Penelope gave your shoulder a little nudge,

“I told you I'm not ready Penny” you ignored her pleas.

Penelope had been your best friend since you moved to Virginia for university, you worked in a little coffee shop right by her apartment building. She’d stop in every morning, or whenever she got called into work, for a coffee. She wasn’t overly picky at first but as you got to know her, more of her bubbly personality came out as well. Penelope was only a few years older than you, but it wasn’t a major difference.

She was currently trying to get you to go on a date with one of her coworkers. It had been a few months since you broke up with your ex boyfriend and she thought it was time for you to get back out there.

“I just don’t want to set myself up for disappointment again pens” you wiped off the counter. She twirled her spoon in her cup, the shop was empty and it was only the two of you in there.

“I promise he won’t be a disappointment, just this once. He’s the sweetest guy I've ever met”

“Do you have a pic-”

“A picture ? I do but I'm not going to show you” She smiled at you.

You looked at her wide-eyed and brows furrowed, “what do you mean you’re not going to show me?” you asked her. “That’s the purpose of a blind date” she replied.

“Okay fine” you sighed, “let me ask you a few questions before I officially decide”

She took a sip of her coffee, waiting for you to question her. “What’s his name ?”

“Derek”

“How old is he ?”

“That’s for you to find out”

“What does he like ?”

“You can ask him that on your date”

“Are you going to keep telling me to ask him my questions ?”

“Yup”

You sighed, “fine, just this once” Penelope smiled and pulled out her phone. “Oh good we still have time, let’s go” she grabbed her coat and your hand before pulling you towards the door.

“Time for what ?”

“To get you ready for your date sugar plum”

“Tonight ?! Penelope I have to find something to wear, I gotta do my hair, I need-”

“You're coming to my place. Let me worry about the outfit, you do your hair”

The love you had for Penelope was unmatched, hence why you’re getting ready for a date with only a 2 hour notice. She made a phone call to who you could only assume was Derek on your way back to her apartment.

The 2 hours went by rather slow. Penelope worked her magic on you, she fixed your hair, picked out your outfit and even gave you a little pep talk to calm your nerves.

Penelope drove you to the restaurant, she told the bare minimum about Derek on the way there so you weren't at a total loss and so you didn’t have time to pick apart the information she provided you with.

“Okay honey bun, just tell the girl at the door you’re here for Morgan, she’ll take you to the table”

You sat in the car for a moment, looking out the window at the restaurant. Penelope gave your hand a squeeze. “If you want to leave, just tell him. He’ll understand” she kissed your cheek leaving a little red kiss mark on your face. You got out of the car and before you could say goodbye to her, she had driven off.

No turning back now.

Taking a deep breath, you brushed off the wrinkles from your shirt and headed into the restaurant. “Hi, uh I'm meeting someone here” you told the girl, she could see you were nervous. “First date ?” she asked, you nodded.

“What’s the name ?”

“Morgan”

She led you back outside to the patio. The man had his back to you, you could already tell that he was attractive, even with the lack of hair (which Penelope seemed to leave out of her information but it didn’t matter)

“Derek ?” you asked, walking to the other side of the table so he would be able to see you. “That's me, I'm guessing you’re y/n ?” “That would be me” you smiled at him. He stood up and stretched his arms out towards you, you stepped forward and felt his arms wrap around you.

Holy shit, he gives good hugs

You sat across from him, Derek had broad shoulders and a nice smile. Penelope had good taste in men and she knew your type to a T. “Did she ambush you with this date too ?” you asked, just wanted to get past that awkward first date phase of the conversation and Derek laughed. “Not exactly. To tell you the truth, I had seen a picture of you on babygirl’s desk and I was mesmerized” he chuckled, “she then explained that you were single and she would ask you if you were up to go for dinner or maybe drinks, nothing too over the top” he handed you a glass of wine.

“Oh that’s- wait, did you say baby girl ?”

“yeah, sorry shouldn't really call someone else baby girl while I’m on a date huh?” he chuckled.

God, even his laugh was attractive

“Oh no, that’s alright but Penelope said only one person calls her that and that’s her ‘chocolate thunder’”

“That would be me”

“You’re telling me she sent me on a date with her chocolate thunder?”

“She would tell you that it’s a ‘blood in the nostrils’ type thing so I wouldn't stress it”

Well this was off to a strange start

“What do you do ?” Derek looked over at you while you told him.

“I’m in the arts project at Columbia University”

“Isn’t that in New York ?”

“Yeah, it is but I'm finishing up my last co-op program here at the art museum”

“That’s really cool, so you paint and draw or like what’s your specialty?”

“I don’t really have one but I do draw and paint. Art curator is the dream job, if not then jewellery designer is the next one”

“I’m sure that’s more fascinating then my job”

“You’re a fricking F.B.I agent, I don't think there’s anything cooler than that”

Derek laughed at your enthusiasm for his job. “You think so ?”

“Oh totally” you smiled as you took a sip of wine.

Dinner was nice, the two of you talked about Derek’s job and your plans for after you finished university. “Are you thinking of staying here or moving back to New York ?” “well, nothing’s set yet but I'd stay if I had something keeping me here ya know?”

“Dessert ?”

“Oh, no thank you, unless you want something” you told him.

“How about a drink then ?” he asked

“Sounds like a plan” you smiled at him

You could feel your phone buzzing against your leg continuously. “Excuse me for a minute, I'm just gonna run to the bathroom” “take your time” Derek smiled at you.

When you got into the bathroom, you checked your phone. It was Penelope texting you to check how your date was going.

From Penny: sorry for zooming off like that haha, I didn’t want you to change your mind :)

From Penny: sooo how’s it going ?

From Penny: do you like him ?

From Penny: god I hope he’s not being rude to you

From Penny: i’m sure he isn't

From Penny: he’s an angel on earth I promise

From Penny: okay don't answer me then :(

From Penny: I'm going to have a serious talk with Derek when I see him

From Penny: he’s stealing you from me right now

From Penny: I NEED DETAILS!!!

From Penny: NOW!!!!

You decided to text her back before she shows up to see if everything is okay.

To Penny: It's okay, it's good you left or I would have changed my mind. he’s not being rude, he's been very sweet actually. He’s super funny and I like him so far. We’re going to get a drink now, I'll text you after.

From Penny: oh good I'm glad to hear that! :))

To Penny: Satisfied now ?

From Penny: yes I am, have fun now

You chuckled before slipping your phone back into your pocket and heading back to the table. “All set ?” Derek asked as he stood up. “Yeah, what about the bill?” you went to get your card from your pocket when Derek grabbed your hand.

“Don’t worry about it sweetheart, I got it already”

“Oh, thank you”

“No worries”

His hand rested on your lower back as the two of you walked out. “Where too ?” he asked

“There's a place down the street or if you want to go somewhere else ?” you suggested

“Anything’s good with me”

“My place then ? if you don't mind of course. I have a bottle of whiskey that’s just begging to be opened” you chuckled.

He smiled, “sounds good”

The restaurant wasn’t far from your apartment so you walked back. It wasn’t cold outside but it wasn't warm either. It was a normal autumn night, there was a warm breeze. You hadn’t remembered if you had tidied up or not and you invited him over to your place.

Good job y/n

You pushed open the door and braced yourself for a mess only to be met with a clean apartment. You let out a sigh of relief before stepping inside, Derek following you inside.

“Make yourself comfortable” you slipped off your shoes before heading to the kitchen. Derek mirrored your actions, he took off his shoes and followed your steps to the kitchen.

“Wow” Derek stood by your kitchen window, “how’d you end up with such a nice view ?” your apartment overlooked downtown and it was always beautiful when the sun was setting.

“Honestly, I just got lucky” You pulled the bottle out of your cupboard.

It was one of the bottles with the cork tops that you pull off but you couldn’t seem to get it off. A grunt and a ‘ow’ from you caught Derek’s attention, he turned around to see you rubbing your palm and the bottle was on the counter beside you.

“Can I ?”

“Be my guest”

Derek grabbed the bottle and you turned away from him to get glasses. A loud pop caused you to turn, Derek stood there with the opened bottle in his hand.

“Are you kidding me ?” you groaned making him chuckle.

“You know, I almost had it, your muscles just helped” you told him before resting the glasses on the counter.

“I’m sure you did sugar” he poured some into each glass.

Derek picked a glass up and you picked up the other. “To new friends and new beginnings” he said, you clink your glass against his before taking a sip.

“Can I tell you something ?”

“Of course”

“I wasn't even going to come tonight”

“How come ? If you don't mind me asking”

“I just didn’t want to set myself up again, what if it didn't work ? what if I didn’t know what to say or do when I saw you, ya know ? but it wasn't like that. You made me feel comfortable and safe” you admitted to him, Derek smiled.

“I’m glad I did. I really liked getting to know you y/n”

“And I you, Derek”

Derek's arm rested on your shoulder, your hand coming up to meet his, your fingers interlocking.

“Maybe we can do this again?” you asked him quietly

“I’d like that” Derek pressed a small kiss to your temple.

Taglist: @haleymalaffey @aaronhotchnerr @mac99martin @aaron-hotchner187 @tclaerh @luke-alvez @iconicc @lieberhers @pumpkin-reads @ssa-holmes @katexrichardson @sluttytears @thelukealvez

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

barcelona (ii)

wordcount: 2.3k

_______

Sophie introduced him to the whole group, then separately to her roommates all sitting together at the top of the table. “This is Isobel,” she nodded, “this is Andrea,” she waved, “and this is Juliet,” she smiled.

Rafe nodded, smiling at the three of them. “Isabelle -”

“Isobel.” She corrected. “Ee-so-belle.”

“Ee-so-belle.” He repeated slowly, trying with the accent. “Sorry, I’ll remember that. And you’re Andrea, and you’re Juliet.”

“Rafe, do you always show up late to places?” Isobel asked him with a stern look, nudging Sophie under the table. She tried her best to hold back a grin as he shook his head quickly, the tips of his ears turning red. “No, um, sorry, we got held up by the - the subway -”

“The metro.” Sophie corrected calmly.

“Yes! The metro. Sorry, uh, jetlag.” Rafe tried, looking nervous.

“Uh huh.” She nodded, trying to seem unconvinced, and Andrea snorted into her mimosa, making all of them laugh. “Andrea!”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t keep it up!”

Rafe glanced between the four girls, confused. “Keep what up?”

Sophie grinned, squeezing his leg under the table. “I told them they could grill you a little. Andrea just has no poker face.”

“We’ve heard so much about you, I feel like we already know each other.” Juliet told him with a welcoming smile.

The girls all nodded in agreement and Sophie beamed at their approval, letting them go on with stories about their antics as roommates, like when Juliet had set off the fire alarm while smoking - three times - and when Andrea brought a boy over and he turned out to be a total bust, so they girls had to make up an excuse to rescue her from the awkward situation. As Isobel reached across the table for the salt, Rafe noticed a small carnation tattooed just below the inside of her elbow, still a little red. “I like that, is it new?”

“It is!” She nodded down the table. “Mateo just did some of them for us last week. Oh my god, Sophie, do you remember like a month ago -”

Sophie shook her head quickly, sending her a pointed glare. “I don’t remember. Anything. Ever.”

Andrea hid a giggle behind her napkin at the way Sophie’s cheeks went red, and Juliet smirked. “The initials R.C. don’t ring a bell?”

“Stoooop.” She whined and Rafe caught on quickly, grinning. “Was that when she tried to get the tattoo on her hip?”

“Yes!” Andrea exclaimed, laughing. “Oh my god, it was like five inches tall and looked like it’d been written by a primary schooler.”

“You were determined.” Isobel grinned, poking Sophie in the side and put on a poorly done American accent to mimic her. “Nooo, guys, I hafta get it!”

Juliet joined in, her American accent even worse. “I’ve only had four drinks, I’m fine! Like, sober!”

“That was with Sebastian’s heavy pour, too.” Andrea added, laughing. “I think we got to know a little too much about you that night.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Sophie was bright red now and nudged her elbow into Rafe’s side when he went to ask another question. “I FaceTimed him that night, he saw how bad it was.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t get it.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“Besides, she already has the ring, it’s not like she needed that to ward any guys off.” Isobel pointed out nonchalantly and Sophie bit her lip, trying to be subtle as she hid her hand under the table and switched her ring from her ring finger back to her middle, something she’d forgotten to do in her haste to pick him up from the airport.

Rafe noticed immediately, of course, but chose not to comment. “Maybe a temporary tattoo instead.” He teased, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. When their waiter came back around to take everyone’s real food order instead of just adding to their sangria, most of the table ordered in Spanish with ease, including Sophie.

She looked to him to explain his order but he straightened up a little, clearing his throat. “Uh, hola! Yo comer los huevos con chorizo, por favor.” He gave the waiter a proud smile and Isobel had to hide a snort in her napkin at his horrible pronunciation and grammar - it was as butchered as possible. The waiter furrowed his brow a little and Sophie subtly pointed at his option on the menu. The waiter laughed, clapped Rafe on the shoulder and told him - in a nearly-perfect American accent - “Welcome to Spain, buddy.”

“Since when do you speak Spanish?” Sophie held back a grin, not wanting to burst Rafe’s bubble.

He beamed, taking it as a compliment. “I did a little studying over the summer.”

“It wasn’t horrible!” Juliet chimed in with an encouraging smile, not noticing Rafe’s face drop. Sophie winced and kissed his cheek. “It’s alright, we’ll practice. The idea’s there.”

He kept his voice down, turning to her with a curious look. “You mean it? It wasn’t bad?”

“No! Not really. I mean, some things could use some work, but you have like, the basic foundation -”

“Sophie. No lying.”

“I’ve never lied to you.”

“Oh, bullshit - you’ve lied so many times -”

“Pre-relationship does not count!” She exclaimed, grinning as she swatted him with her napkin. “We agreed. No bringing that up.”

He grinned back, poking her side. “What, are you trying to hide our sordid past from your roommates?”

She fixed him with a cross look, shaking her head. “Sordid hardly describes it. Just a few arguments here and there, that was all.”

“Ah, you seem to have a selective memory.” He smirked and squeezed her knee under the table. “You hated me.”

She frowned. “I never hated you. Just, maybe, didn’t like you sometimes.”

“Understatement of the century.” He trailed his hand up her thigh and she pushed his hand away, giving him a warning look. “Rafe Cameron.”

He just gave her a smile and moved his hand back to her knee until their food arrived.

_____

Three packed days later of showing Rafe around, Sophie had to say a tearful goodbye to her roommates. It was hard for her to leave her newfound friends she’d grown so close to, but they promised they’d see her again - they’d all applied early for graduate programs scattered throughout the US, some starting as early as January.

Somehow, after a lot of persuading over the summer, Sophie had convinced Rafe to rent a car and drive to Nice in France. It was a little over six hours of a drive and along the coastline, and he couldn’t say no to her after she’d sent multiple photos of the coast and fancy cars they could rent too. After loading everything into the car and carefully adjusting the short driver’s seat, Rafe grinned over at her. “Ready to go?”

“Yes, but I have something for you.” She reached into the backseat and pulled a wrapped box out of her tote bag, practically buzzing with excitement. “I know your birthday won’t be until we’re in Rome, but I think you’d like this now. The rest of your gift is back in Ohio though.”

He took the box, fixing her with a playfully stern look. “I thought I told you no presents? Just being here with you is enough.”

“Yeah, yeah, I didn’t listen. Open it.”

He opened it curiously, then grinned when he saw the camcorder printed on the box. He’d mentioned earlier in the summer how he’d like to have something that wasn’t just his phone to document senior year, and then to be able to edit the footage together into little montages each month. Of course, she’d listened and found the perfect gift. “You remembered!”

“It’s the right kind, I think, but double check for me?” She asked, urging him to open the box. “I did a lot of research making sure it was the right one.”

He took the camera out and inspected it, nodding. “It’s perfect. I love it, Sophie, thank you.” He turned to her and smacked a kiss to her cheek, grinning when she turned her head and caught his lips with hers.

“You’re welcome. I was going to wait, but figured you could take videos of our trip and everything.” She beamed.

Rafe’s grin morphed into a smirk as he flipped the camera on, pointing it toward her. “Is the rest of the present that we’re making a sex tape?”

She immediately rolled her eyes, huffing as she reached for the camera. “Okay. You just ruined the moment, good job.”

He laughed, pushing her hand away and put it back in the box. “Thank you, for real. It’s awesome.”

She took the box and put it back in the backseat, smiling. “Welcome. Happy early birthday, old man.”

Rafe started up the car and flicked on the radio, handing Sophie his phone loaded up with their directions. “Twenty-two is hardly old.”

“Ancient.” She laughed. “Alright, this says we’ll get there by two, so just in time to check in to the hostel and we can stop to eat halfway. Feel okay about driving? Because I can trade with you -”

“Absolutely not. And, uh, about the hostel.” He kept his eyes on the road as he drove.

“I thought I sent you all the information, you said you’d book it -”

“No, no, not that, I have everything covered. Just.” He tapped his fingers on the wheel.

“Just?” She cocked her head curiously.

“I may have gone a different route for accommodation in Nice.”

“Rafe. I said I’d pay for my things.”

He didn’t need to glance over at her to feel her slow-building annoyance, but did anyways. “I know! I know. I was just thinking, we’re going to the beach and we’ll be all sandy and whatever afterward, it might be nice to have a real hotel and our own bathroom. Just for there, I booked the hostels for Italy.”

“Just for there.” She repeated, skeptical.

He nodded to confirm. “We’ve just been so busy with everyone - which I totally understand - but I thought it’d be nice to have it be just us for a few days.”

She considered it for a moment - he did make a great point. “I can transfer money from my savings to cover my half.”

“No.”

“Rafe.”

“I’m serious, Sophie, no. The hostels, fine, but not for Nice.” He declared. He’d chosen a boutique hotel instead of a big expensive chain hotel in hopes that would hide how much he spent, so she didn’t question it.

She frowned, crossing her arms. “I really don’t want to fight over this, baby, but I told you -”

“So don’t fight. I’ve got it.” He reached over and rested his hand on her knee and squeezed it reassuringly. “Ward gave me extra money.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “Ward gave you extra money to spend on your trip with me? I’m supposed to believe that? I don’t think he even knows my name still.”

“Well.” He paused, nodding. “Not exactly for the trip, he just put double in my account for my birthday month. I think he feels a little guilty, last year he forgot.” Rafe tried to force a laugh, but it came out more pained than he wanted.

She frowned and reached over to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “He forgot your birthday? Seriously?”

“Yeah. It’s no big deal, happens. Anyways, um. I’m not letting you pay for it.”

She could tell he was growing uncomfortable talking more about Ward and nodded. “Okay. Fine, but just this once.” She gave him a small smirk. “You think the walls are thin?”

“I think the building is structurally sound, baby.” He gave her a confused glance.

She laughed, shaking her head. “That is so not what I meant.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Think harder.”

He furrowed his brow for a moment, then shook his head. “I give up.”

“We only had sex once since we’ve been back together.”

“What does that have to do with thin walls - ohhhh. Right. You know, sometimes I forget how dirty you are, I appreciate the reminder.” He grinned and she tugged on the ends of his hair, rolling her eyes. “Fuck off, you are too.”

“Think we could pull over when we make it to France and have a quickie on the side of the road?”

She raised her eyebrows, skeptical. “Do you speak enough French to get us out of trouble if we get caught and arrested?”

“Minor details.” Rafe laughed, nudging his head back into her hand a little so she’d start playing with his hair again. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She responded, scratching his head lightly.

“I love you. So damn much.”

Sophie beamed and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Love you too, fool. I’m glad you’re here.”

He grinned widely. “Yeah? Me too. I really hated being away from you.”

She frowned, just a little. “At least you had your internship to distract you though, right?”

“I was too damn nervous about Brooklyn doing something to fuck us up half the time.” He confessed. “I’m really sorry she kissed me, I should have known -”

“Quit.” She cut him off firmly. “I don’t want to hear a single thing about her on this trip, and I especially don’t want to hear apologies for that. Not your fault.”

He bit this inside of his cheek, sparing a glance over at her. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it. I’m glad you’re willing to tell me, but it’s over with. Quit stressing.”

“I wasn’t stressing -”

“You’re too easy to read, baby.” She flicked the back of his neck and he yelped, laughing. “I am not.”

“You absolutely are, you wear your heart on your sleeve and I love you for that.” Sophie grinned. “No more talking about her.”

“Jealous.” He quipped, smiling over at her.

“Damn straight.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #obx #obx fanfic #college rafe #frat rafe #rafe x sophie #mine

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chojiakimichi · 3 years

Text

Take Me Back To The Start

Pairing: Nara Shikamaru x OC

Summary: Uchiha Madara was dead; a man who had always made it seem like the only reason he was still alive was because the Grim Reaper was too scared to take his soul was dead. And Uchiha Toshiko, was back to bury him. She wasn't back to remember or stroll down memory lane with the boy who broke her heart, she was there to say goodbye to the man who raised her. But if she just so happened to find herself once more walking familiar paths while doing just that, well then, Toshiko supposed it just couldn't be helped.

Chapter: One — Six Feet Under

Word Count: 12.5+

Warnings: None; Angst, Modern AU

Notes: Find on ao3

Uchiha Madara was dead; the man who'd survived over just over century on nothing but spite, determination and soba noodles was dead.

He'd never wake up and huff at the sun for shining in his eyes again. Never again would Uchiha Madara hobble into the kitchen of his ancestral home and huff at whatever eldritch horror his eldest grand-nephew Obito had accidently made for breakfast that morning nor would he ever again sit on the back porch, smoking his pipe whilst glaring at any local children that rode their bikes far too close to his lawn.

Because he was dead and in three days time he'd be cremated and his ashes would be scattered into Naka river like every other passed Uchiha leaving nothing of him behind but the memories he'd help create and the decrepit sandals he had refused to replace for the past— who could even remember how many —years.

Toshiko, the youngest of Uchiha Madara's grand nieces' and nephews' rested her head against the cool glass of the trains window as she swallowed the lump in her throat.

Death wasn't a stranger to Toshiko; how could it be, she and her older brothers— Sasuke and Itachi —had all watched their parents die in a car crash as children. And yet despite the fact that Death wasn't a stranger and despite the fact she had lost her parents already and should know what it was like to lose someone— to loose a parental figure; Madara had almost been like another father to her, after all he had been the one to take her and her brothers in after their parents deaths —Uchiha Toshiko still felt her eyes mist over and her heart twist in her chest.

Because her grand uncle was dead. Because she'd never get to see the perpetually grouchy, practically ancient old man she loved like a second father ever again. Because she missed him and that feeling would never go away.

Toshiko's dog, a young, fluffy white Chow Chow she'd named Masshu— short for Masshupoteto —after being gifted him, stirred at her feet, his head popping up from atop his paws as he turned to look up at her.

Sometimes when when Toshiko looked into Masshu's eyes she'd swear she could hear nothing but Wii music going on behind them; she thought that her supposed guard dog's head was filled with nothing but the thought of chasing squirrels and the promise of future treats. This time though, as her wet eyes flickered from the thick tree-line the train was speeding past to Masshu, Toshiko could have sworn she could see concern in the canines whiskey eyes; almost as if he knew she was upset.

Toshiko flashed the Chow Chow a wobbly smile; it was the kind of smile that the more it screeched across her face the more it turned downwards. Her heels squeezed at the large dogs sides in acknowledgment— Masshu set his head back down on his paws —as she turned back to the window; Toshiko's eyes dragged across the blurred scenery.

Her stop was getting close.

The twenty-six year old female sucked in a deep breath before she grabbed her phone from her smoky colored coat pocket and untangled the headphones she'd wrapped around the device before her impromptu nap earlier during the train ride.

Toshiko punched in her phones code with the pad of her thumb. Her password was just the numbers that correlated to the first four letters of her name; eight-six-seven-four. Her brother Sasuke liked to make fun of her for it, saying how if someone wanted to seal any information from her phone they could; that it'd be easier then taking candy from a baby and while he was right, no matter how many times the older man harped about it to her, Toshiko kept her passcode the same.

Toshiko opened her Spotify app and shuffled her liked songs. Train's Drops of Jupiter was already playing by the time she put in her right earbud. Toshiko's head tilted up at the sound of the songs first few cords, her head once more resting against the windows cool glass.

Now that she's back in the atmosphere, with drops of Jupiter in her hair.

Toshiko kept her password the same not only because it was easy to remember but mostly because— as Sasuke had gone into the private sector after having dropped out of college —he'd undoubtedly still go on about security and safety even if she ever did change it, but also partly because if she just did whatever Sasuke said, when he said it he'd always expect her to and she refused to have that.

Little sisters, after all, were supposed to be difficult.

She acts like summer and walks like rain, reminds me that there's a time to change, hey.

When was the last time Toshiko and her grand uncle had talked?

When she had been in university the year before they had talked two-three times a week. Sometimes they'd only chat for a few minutes; just checking in with one another, while other times Toshiko and Madara would talk for hours. He'd gripe about whatever new annoyance plagued him for an hour or so before she'd go on about how stupid people in her classes could be and their idiotic options on social policies and how they were so wrong it was almost maddening.

But lately, ever since she had started her job at the Fukuoka prosecutors office Toshiko's life had began to revolve around work. The only time she ever seemed to go back to her tiny apartment was when she needed to feed and walk Masshu and even then, as of late, Toshiko had begun to hire the boy who lived on the floor below her to walk the Chow Chow.

So when was the last time Toshiko and Madara had spoken?

Since the return of her stay on the moon. She listens like spring and she talks like June, hey.

It hadn't been the day before he'd died. Hadn't been that week either. Two weeks? Toshiko racked her brain to remember only to come up with the last time they had spoken being sixteen days before he'd died; twenty three days ago in total.

Nearly a month.

At the time of their call Toshiko had told her grand uncle about a case she'd won while sitting first chair— it'd been a negligent homicide case; not only her first homicide case of any kind but the first case she'd sat first chair for —and though he hadn't said it in so many words, Madara had sounded so proud of her. Toshiko could remember the light feeling that'd carried her through the next two days following that call.

"Konoha station coming up next," the conductors voice rang out; snapping Toshiko out of her thoughts.

Toshiko pocketed her phone and grabbed the bookbag she'd stuffed full of clothes the night before in one hand and the loop of Masshu's leash as she stood from her seat, nudging Masshu out from under her and towards the trains doors, pausing at them as she looked around her mostly empty train car to see if anyone else would be getting off with her.

No one moved from their seats; three of seven people left in the car were asleep and the four that weren't were all too engrossed in whatever they were watching on their phones or reading from the books propped up in their laps to be getting off with her, leaving Toshiko's dark eyes to move from the sea of mostly empty seats to the window closest to her.

The train was slowing down.

Toshiko wrapped the length of Masshu's leash once around the palm of her hand, and then twice. While she didn't expect Masshu to bolt when the doors opened up— Masshu had been incredibly well trained; the whole point of Sasuke having bought Masshu for her was for him to act as her guard dog once she'd moved off campus and into her own apartment —it just was easier to hustle him off the train quickly on a tighter leash.

The song changed from Trains Drops of Jupiter to One Directions new song Drag Me Down, something that while Toshiko wasn't quite in the mood to listen to she didn't bother to skip as she still liked it.

"Approaching Konoha station now. Please remember to take all your belongings with you when you exit the train car," the conductors voice said as the train began to lull to a stop.

Toshiko could see the colorful benches that littered the Konoha train station; several of the benches had foxes painted on them. As the train continued to stop Toshiko's car passed the stairs that lead from the platform to the road and the tiny station building that sold snacks for people to eat on the train and tiny Konoha-centered knick-knacks to tourists who had wandered into the small building in search of directions.

"This is Konoha station," the conductor sounded, as the train came to a full stop. "This is Konoha station, the next and last stop will be Aomori. Please remember to take all your belongings before you exit the train. Thank you for riding Thunder Rails."

Toshiko shuffled closer to Masshu; the fingers not curled around Masshu's leash tightened as they gripped the strap of her bag. Her heel clicked against the floor once before the doors opened up with the same kind of sound Tupperware's made when being unsealed. Then as if she were in a race and the gun signaling the start had sounded, Toshiko shot off the train and into the platform, Masshu trotting behind her, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth.

Half way up the platform Toshiko felt her phone buzz; the young woman paused to pull it from her coat and saw it was a message from her brother Itachi.

Parking lot. First row.

Toshiko felt her lips press together, she could have sworn Sasuke was the one who was supposed to pick her up, not Itachi.

Not bothering to respond— not because she minded that it was Itachi picking her up and not Sasuke but because she'd see her eldest brother in less then a few minutes anyway —Toshiko paused her music before shoving both her phone and the headphones attached to it back into her pocket. She tugged at Masshu's leash, signaling that once more they were on the move. Something Masshu instantly complied with.

Toshiko and Masshu both scampered up the concrete steps that lead to the main road and the orange station building, that had been built the same time as the railway only to turn left and walk down the hill that lead to the dead end that was the Konoha train stations parking lot. There were three cars in the parking lot; Itachi's, like he said was in the first row.

Though even if it hadn't been, and even if there were more cars littering the lot, Toshiko would have easily found her brother as he was leaning against the front end of his car.

Like Toshiko he was dressed in black. His long hair was tied back into it's usual low hanging pony tail, his wiry glasses were perched at the end of his nose and though his smile didn't reach his eyes the tension in his shoulders disappeared at the sight of Toshiko, who, at the sight of her eldest brother, felt the tears she'd been holding back on the train quell up in her eyes once more.

Their grand uncle— their ōoji-san —was dead; Uchiha Madara was dead. The only parent Toshiko had known for the past twenty years was dead.

Was gone.

She loosened her hold on Masshu's leash.

"Nii-san," Toshiko croaked, her tears falling. One then two; Toshiko caught her bottom lip between her teeth only for it to trembled violently. She hadn't really cried when Obito had called her the week before and told her of their grand uncles passing; sure tears had automatically fallen at the new but it hadn't been real then.

Uchiha Madara being dead were just words; they hadn't been true, couldn't be. He had always seemed too stubborn to die, seemingly immortal; Uchiha Madara had been a hundred and two when he had died. At the time hearing that he had died had almost been like hearing pigs had learned to fly; absurd.

But then the closer she'd gotten to Konoha on the train the more the truth had began to set in until she'd been forced to acknowledge it. To swallow it; Uchiha Madara being dead wasn't just words, they were Toshiko and the others new reality.

Come three days time she and her brothers and her cousins would be cremating their grand uncle.

Itachi pushed off the square front of his car and Toshiko met the older Uchiha half way, her arms outstretched. Toshiko heard Itachi let out a soft sounding oomph when she barreled into his bony chest. Toshiko clung to Itachi the same way she had when their parents had died and Sasuke had been hospitalized following the car crash; like he was her last and only life line tethering her to the Earth.

Toshiko's shoulders shook as she cried into her eldest brothers chest; Masshu's nose pressed against the back of her thigh as one of Itachi's hand's moved from her upper arms so that it was splayed out between her shoulder blades while the other was curled around the back of her head, cradling her against him.

"It's alright Toshiko," Itachi said, his own voice raspy, the same way it would be if he were on the verge of tears; and perhaps he was.

Itachi— and Shisui —hadn't been close to Madara, not the way Toshiko and Sasuke and Obito had all been, not because of any family drama or clash of ideologies, but because unlike them, neither Itachi or Shisui had been raised by Madara.

Shisui had grown up in Tokyo with his mother following his fathers death, only ever visiting Konoha during the summer while Itachi— who'd been born a genius —had gotten out of living in Konoha year round following their parents deaths due to the fact that at thirteen— right before the deaths of Toshiko, Itachi and Sasuke's parents —Itachi had been accepted to university. Meaning that he only ever came to town during Christmas break and summer holidays with Shisui, when neither of them had classes.

But just because he hadn't been close to the their grand uncle didn't mean he didn't care. Itachi had always had the biggest heart out of everyone Toshiko knew, always caring about every little thing.

Toshiko felt herself nod and though she tried to collect herself and force the tears to stop it wasn't until several minutes later that Toshiko, puffy faced and red-eyed pulled away.

"I'm sorry," Toshiko said with a forced smile, as she wiped her face with the cuff of her sleeve, "I didn't mean to cry on you."

"You've done worse. Incase you forgot I used to help mom change your diapers," Itachi said with a smile; like Toshiko's it was obviously forced. Though unlike hers it looked far more natural, anyone who didn't know the tall thirty-four year old wouldn't suspect a thing.

Toshiko let out a breath, one that could've doubled as a quiet laugh, and stepped away from her brother. Masshu rubbed up against the outer part of her leg. "You are so gross Itachi."

"What?" He blinked innocently, the slight, sudden upturn of his lips was far more genuine then it had been a moment before, "It's true."

His left hand raised— Toshiko didn't bother to try to dodge; she'd long ago learned the effort was fruitless —and just like he'd always done to her and Sasuke when they'd all been growing up, Itachi poked her in the dead center of her forehead.

Toshiko's nose wrinkled at the touch.

"Whatever nii-san," Toshiko said; her chest was still heavy and her eyes were still wet but Toshiko nonetheless rolled her eyes at her brother. "Anyway," she said, motioning to Masshu, who'd taken a seated position next to Toshiko, "This is the dog Sasuke got me when I moved a few months ago, 'Tachi, meet Masshu. Masshu," Toshiko motioned to Itachi, "Meet my brother, Itachi. Be nice."

Itachi crouched down and held his hand out; Masshu didn't hesitate to put his paw in the palm of Itachi's hand. Itachi shook it the same way he would a persons.

"Nice to meet you Masshu." Masshu's large head rolled to the side before Itachi dropped his paw and straightened up; he looked to Toshiko, "I have my luggage in the back seats, will he be alright in the trunk?"

"Yeah," Toshiko nodded, only to frown. Just like she could have sworn it was supposed to be Sasuke picking her up she could have sworn that Itachi had been meant to arrive in Konoha two days before then to help with the last minute funeral preparations. "You haven't gone to the house yet?"

Itachi shook his head, "I only got back to the country early this morning, I got delayed at the conference and missed my original flight in."

"Oh," Toshiko said. "I'm sure Sasu loved that," she added sarcastically.

It wasn't that Sasuke hated Itachi— Toshiko wasn't sure Sasuke could ever —it was just that the middle Uchiha sibling still carried around the childhood anger and resentment he had towards Itachi, something that Toshiko— though she wished Sasuke would let go of now that they were adults —understood.

Toshiko got why Sasuke resented Itachi. He— Sasuke —had been, for the first few months following the crash that had killed their parents in a coma due to the head trauma he had sustained when their father had lost control of the family car and gone into the river. And when he had woken up their parents had already been buried, their house— the only home Sasuke had ever known —had been packed away and Itachi had been practically out the door and on his way to university, leaving them behind with Madara and Obito two family memeber who— neither Sasuke nor Toshiko had know well —at the time were virtually strangers.

"I know," Itachi nodded as he lead her and Masshu to the back of his dark red Toyota Roomy. "It's why I'm picking you up though and he's not. Sasuke got in last night and I was already on the road, I figured it'd be easier."

Itachi opened the trunk's door.

"Up," Toshiko said with a snap of her fingers and her hand in the trunk; effortlessly Masshu jumped up into the trucks back.

"That was sweet," Toshiko— as Itachi closed the trunk's door —said instead of the You know it won't stop him from giving you shit for not arriving when you said she wanted to say.

Itachi let out a hum as he moved towards the drivers side; Toshiko passed him as she moved to the other side of the car towards the passengers seat. Toshiko, before she got into the car, threw her bookbag over her seat and into the back next to Itachi's two large suitcases.

"Is that all you really brought?" Itachi asked with a raised brow and an amused glint in his eyes.

"Yeah?" Toshiko responded as she slid into the passenger seat; "I know I still have pajama's here, at least enough for the next few days and I accidently left a pair of sneakers here last time I visited Obito and Ōoji-san so I didn't bother to bring any other shoes but these," Toshiko explained, pointing downwards towards the black flats she was wearing, "So between no pajamas and no extra shoes, all my clothes fit into my bag."

"Alright," Itachi said as he began to pull out of the parking lot.

They hadn't even fully pulled out of the lot when Toshiko saw Masshu peaking over the top of Itachi back seats. She smiled at the dog only to quickly frown when Masshu rocked forward and placed his paws over the seats, his nails biting into the seats pleather.

Toshiko turned in her seat so that she could look back at her dog, her finger outstretched and wagging in Masshu's direction.

"No. Down," Toshiko ordered Masshu, "Sit normally. Sit." Obediently Masshu's paws dropped and hit the trunks carpeted flooring. "Good boy," she said in a high pitched baby-voice, "You're such a good boy."

Masshu, as if agreeing, let out a loud bark. Toshiko smiled at the white Chow Chow before turning back in her seat only to grimace when she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror; her face was splotchy and red, and her eyes were the kind if pink you only ever got after crying, the kind that made her dark eyes seem darker then they really were.

Pointedly looking away from her reflection Toshiko peered out her window and at the familiar sights of Konoha that passed her and Itachi by.

Hokage Rock, the mountain range that ran along the north of the town— the one that if you squint hard enough looked like it had faces carved into it —still seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky; the same way it had seemed when she'd been a child.

Ichiraku Ramen, a tiny ramen restaurant that was situated between two larger buildings, looked exactly same as it always had. As she and Itachi passed by Toshiko even saw the familiar flash of blonde sitting along the Ramen shops counter.

Only to frown; because for every unchanged thing Toshiko saw the twenty-six year old found something that had changed or something new that had popped up since the last time she had stepped foot in Konoha and while she didn't hate the new changes she spotted outside the car window— like the pair of officers who stood idly outside the Konoha Bank, half-heartedly guarding it because they had been needed and without a doubt over due —Toshiko could still remember what had been there before.

She could remember what had once been in the same exact spot the new, nice looking restaurant Yakiniku Q stood. It'd been a Lighting Burger that'd burnt down one New Years Eve after a few of the local high school students had too much fun with the box of fire works they had managed to get their underage hands on.

Toshiko could remember how for days the smell of sulfur had lingered in the air; she could remember how the outside of the Konoha library— which she saw was a greyish sort of pink —had for years, been a bright ugly purple because someone had messed up when placing the order only for it to be kept that way because no one on the town counsel had wanted to figure out which funds to reallocate to repaint it properly.

Nostalgia— the leaden kind that made Toshiko's bones feel waterlogged —washed over her.

Was this growing up?

Was adulthood coming home— because while perhaps Toshiko had begun to build a life for herself in Fukuoka, the place her mind always flew to when thinking of the word home wasn't her one bedroom apartment or her tiny office at work but Konoha —to find out the places you had memory after memory of had been bulldozed while away?

Was adulthood just longing for a home that no longer existed?

Or was it something else? Was it supposed to be?

Shifting in her seat, looking away from her window and along the curve of her brothers face Toshiko couldn't help but think, Ōoji-san would know.

0.0.0.0

Toshiko's breath caught in her throat when Itachi pulled up to the curb outside Uchiha families home.

When she had been growing up Madara had always said that the house before Toshiko and Itachi was their families ancestral home, the one where— back before Konoha had been a village —the first Uchiha had been born centuries before and while the the dark colored, three story home looked old it didn't look quite as old as Madara claimed their family had been living in it.

Though that was without a doubt due to the fact that the home had been fixed up numerous times over the years. The roof had needed to be replaced after a terrible storm when Toshiko had been ten, the floors had been redone right before Toshiko had last visited as a pipe had burst; the pluming had been installed in the nineteenth century and by twenty-sixteen nearly all of it had been replaced at one point or another.

Toshiko got out of the car, and grabbed her backpack from where she'd tossed it, her eyes never once leaving the home as she slung the backpack over her shoulder.

Her home.

Ivy grew along the sides of it making the house look like it was one with the trees that surrounded it, the crows Madara had feed for years— since he had been a child —littered the roof, several of them cawing loudly whilst two circled the house overhead, looking for him.

Toshiko moved to the back of her brothers truck so that she could let Masshu out of the back only to pause mid-step when the front door opened.

She knew it was stupid— that her grand uncle was dead and waiting to be cremated —but for a second, as Shisui stepped out of the house she couldn't help but think of how much he had looked like a younger Uchiha Madara; the one Toshiko saw in the albums her grand uncle kept in his room.

"Hey you two finally made it!" Shisui called out with a wave.

Itachi, who'd gone to grab his suitcase turned at the voice his and Toshiko's cousin; Itachi shot Shisui a two finger sault only to beam when two small children— a little girl, no older then six, with pigtails that flapped behind her as she ran forward and a slightly younger boy who had a frog themed bandage over his right brow —both darted out of the house from behind Shisui's legs.

"Oji-san!" The two small children called out as they raced across the Uchiha family homes lawn, "Oba-san!"

Like her brother Toshiko smiled brightly at the sight of her cousins children; Hideko and Daiki.

Daiki, a four year boy who had inherited Shisui's pointed nose and dark rounded eyes but his mothers dark brown hair, ran head first into Itachi's legs while Hideko had skipped over to Toshiko; Toshiko— though she probably should have as Hideko had grown since the last time she'd seen the her —hadn't hesitated in scooping the young up.

Hideko let out a squeak as her hands gripped at the front of Toshiko's coat.

"I missed you Oji-san!" Toshiko heard Daiki cry into Itachi's knees as he wrapped his arms around Itachi's thin legs. Toshiko leaned her head back and looked at Hideko; from the corner of her vision Toshiko saw Shisui move towards them, out from their ancestral homes doorway.

"You saw me last month Daiki," Toshiko half heard her brother telling Daiki as she gleefully gapped at the fact that Hideko's tongue was poking out from an angry looking gap in her teeth.

"Too long!" The boy said as Toshiko spoke, their voices overlapping.

"You lost a tooth!" Toshiko bounced. Itachi who— like Toshiko had done with Hideko —had gathered Daiki in his armed turned in surprise at Toshiko's excited tone, "When? How?"

"This morning!" Hideko said, "It was wiggly so papa and Obi-ji—" when Hideko had first started talking she had constantly tripped over Obito-oji and instead taken to calling him Obi-ji, "—Tied one end of a string to it and then the other to a door and then papa slammed it really hard!"

Toshiko's brows shot up, her eyes swiveled to Shisui who's cheeks had pinkened. "Mari seriously let you two do that?"

Mari, Shisui's wife, was as kind as she was no nonsense; something she had to be if she was going to be married to likes of someone as lively— as headstrong, stubborn, driven, and at times inept —as Shisui. Apparently Shisui had fallen in love with her the first time he'd seen her; he'd walked into the coffee shop she had been working at and she had been yelling at a man who'd crossed several lines when harassing her coworker.

Mari was also a dentist, having finished up medical school just before her and Shisui's wedding.

Shisui blew a breath of air out of his mouth; Hideko beamed at Toshiko, her tongue still peaking through the gap.

"Obi-ji said it was better to ask forgiveness then permission."

"Which is what we did," Shisui added pointedly in his daughters direction, he looked at Toshiko and then Itachi, "And why your mother is a saint."

"She'd have to be, to be married to you," Itachi jabbed playfully.

Just as Toshiko and Sasuke were close, Itachi and Shisui were close; though unlike Sasuke and Toshiko who grew close after their parents deaths Itachi and Shisui had always— for as long as Toshiko could remember —been close. Growing up, before Toshiko and Sasuke had come to live with Madara and Itachi had gone off to university, Toshiko, Itachi and Sasuke had all lived three blocks up from Shisui and his mother. Almost all of Toshiko's earliest memories had Shisui in them; he was practically her third bother.

Not that it was surprising; from what Toshiko could remember from her fathers stories— because she had never met Shisui's father herself as the man had died of colon cancer shortly after Shisui's birth —both her father and Shisui's father had both been a lot like Itachi and Shisui, practically joined at the hip having had grown up together in the same house, raised together like brothers.

"You are so lucky you're holding my kid Tachi," Shisui said good naturedly. Toshiko set Hideko down, though the girl took to clutching the gray fabric of her coat, set on following her around.

"Please I could still take you," Itachi fired back. Itachi was usually the cool one of the bunch; always quite and laid back. The only time he became lively was when he was around Shisui and the only time he ever got loud when when he and Sasuke's arguments turned into full on fights.

"Yeah and have Mari look out the window and see?" Shisui scoffed as Toshiko lead Hideko around to the trunk, "Do you want her to freak out and go into early labor? Cause that's what'll happen if she sees us fighting with Daiki in your arms."

"Puppy!" Hideko cried once Toshiko opened the trunk and Masshu jumped from it and onto the street, his leash hit the concrete and his tail wagged back and forth as he looked at Hideko, though he didn't move from where he stood.

"Puppy?" Daiki sounded, "Where?"

"Can I pet him, please, please, please?" Hideko asked, tugging at Toshiko's coat, her bottom lip stuck out into a pout and the grey eyes she'd gotten from her mother pleading.

"Sure," Toshiko said, "But gently." Toshiko kneeled next to Hideko only to turn when Daiki— who stopped next to the trucks tail light; his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape at the sight of Masshu —appeared behind her. "Dai, do you want to pet Masshu too?"

Daiki nodded and Toshiko beckoned the boy over until, like his sister, he was standing next to her.

"Masshu," Toshiko said sternly, "Sit." He did, she then put a hand out and held it up to Masshu's nose for him to smell. "I want you two to do this alright? Let him smell you first."

Both Hideko and Daiki did; Daiki giggled as Masshu's wet nose swept over his palm. Masshu was large for a Chow Chow, bigger then Daiki but still smaller then Hideko, not that that made him any less intimidating when he was snarling; the whole reason Chow Chows had somewhat of an iffy reputation was because— or so Sasuke had said when he'd given her Masshu —of the fact they were great guard dogs.

According to Toshiko's brother— and Goggle —Chow Chows had once been used to guard many great palaces back when Daimyō's and Shōgun's ruled the country.

"He's so cute!" Hideko cooed, gently petting Masshu as she took a step closer to him. Her brother followed in her wake, scratching behind the dogs ears while Hideko got under his chin.

Masshu's eyes closed, his tail thumped a steady beat against the street.

"This is dog our little Sasu got you for protection?" Shisui laughed; Toshiko, with her arms crossed over her chest and her brows raised looked at her cousin.

"What's wrong with my dog?"

"Nothing," Shisui said, "He just looks like a total marshmallow. Literally. You'd think if our little Sasu-kun was going to get you a guard dog he'd get you-I dunno, one what doesn't look like it'd roll over for a bugler."

Toshiko could have defended Masshu and pulled Hideko and Daiki away so that she could show off how well trained he was, instead though, she looked at her cousin and said, "I'll give you twenty yen if you call Sasu that to his face."

"And what? Have him break me in half?" Shisui asked rhetorically, "In case you forgot your big brother's a scary mercenary now."

Toshiko swung her head from side to side, "Sasu, Tachi, Masshu, everyone else. Is there anyone in this house who can't break you in half?"

"Oh so that's how it is Toad?" Shisui asked; Toshiko felt her shoulders drop at the childhood nickname. Where her brothers and Obito— and friends —had called her Toshi, Shisui had always— for as long as she could remember —called her Toad after the Nintendo character her mother had dressed her up as for her first Halloween.

Shisui had been Bowser, Itachi had been Luigi, Sasuke had been Mario and she, because the store had been out of infant sized Princess Peach costumes, had been Toad.

"I hate you," Toshiko said without any real heart and with a snort as his children giggled under the weight of Masshu's kisses, Shisui slung an arm around Toshiko's shoulders. He pressed a brotherly kiss— because Shisui was as much her brother as he was her cousin; always right there with Itachi when she needed them —to the side of her head.

"How you holding up?" He murmured.

"Fine," Toshiko shrugged, she peered around Shisui to see Itachi was nowhere to be found having disappeared into the house, "Totally balled when I got off the train. I just-it doesn't seem real you know?"

"Tell me about it, when Obi called I thought he was joking. I mean when I heard him tell me that ōoji-san was dead, I thought no way." He scoffed with the shake of his dead. Toshiko took in a deep breath at his words— Ōoji-san was dead; Uchiha Madara was dead —and Shisui just tucked her under his arm more firmly then she had been.

"Come on we should get inside," he said to her a moment later, "Everyone been waiting for you and Tachi to show up-Kakashi even made dorayaki just for you."

Toshiko smiled at the mention of her eldest cousins husband and his cooking; up until her and Sasuke had learned to cook for themselves the only reason she and her brother had eaten anything other then soba noodles had been because of Kakashi, as Obito couldn't cook to save his life and soba noodles seemed to be the only thing Uchiha Madara ever ate when left to his own devices.

Hatake Kakashi— not Uchiha, because while he and Obito considered each other husband and husband, and had held a wedding ceremony when Toshiko had been eight, they weren't legally married —was a great guy who Toshiko was happy her cousin had chosen to spend his life with.

Sure he was also a total loser who read badly written cheesy romance novels and liked to dress his dogs up in silly costumes for fun but he was a nice, kind-hearted loser who loved her cousin wholeheartedly.

"Alright," Toshiko murmured, "Masshu!" She said loudly, moving out from under her cousins arm. Masshu got to his paws, his attention no longer on Hideko or Daiki but solely on Toshiko, "Follow."

Masshu listened and moved so that he was next to Toshiko as she and Shisui began to walk towards the house; Hideko and Daiki rushed over to Masshu's side.

"Oba-san?" Daiki asked in his adorable high pitched voice, "Can onee-chan and I please play with Masshu in the backyard?"

"Sure," Toshiko said, Hideko and Daiki both cheered as he went to pick Masshu's leash that been trailing behind him up off the ground.

"Come on Masshu," Daiki tugged, pulling the dog towards the side of the house so that neither he, Hideko or Masshu would have to cut through the house to get to the backyard. Masshu looked to Toshiko— who nodded at the dog —before following after Daiki and Hideko, disappearing around the bend of the house and towards the backyard moments later.

"You know they're going to want a dog after this, right?" Toshiko joked.

"Then they can take it up with the landlord," Shisui rolled his eyes.

"How's work been?" Toshiko asked her cousin, he shrugged.

"Same as always." Shisui was a software engineer, "My boss is looking to promote, I might get it."

"That's great Shisui," Toshiko said brightly knocking her elbow against her cousins, again he shrugged.

"It's not definite as of yet, everything's up in the air at the moment but hey-fingers crossed am I right?"

"Please you've been at that company since you graduated university, you're going to get it," Toshiko said confidently.

"Thanks" Shisui replied, the palm of his hand swept through his already tousled hair as he stopped to let Toshiko up the stairs that lead into the Uchiha family house first. The two of them, once through the door and in the titled well took off their shoes at the door before stepping further into the house.

Toshiko paused after having stepped up onto the wooden landing. Her throat suddenly tight; Madara wouldn't be on the back porch smoking from his pipe while he watched the kids play with Masshu and the coy circle around and around the pond he'd along ago put in.

He wouldn't be shuffling around the house, muttering to himself about things that needed to get fixed up either, nor would he be in the living room reading the paper or even in the kitchen eating a bowl of soba noodles.

Because he was dead.

Suddenly Toshiko was six again and the house felt far too large; strange and uncharted. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest. Growing up Madara was what made the house a home, for a grouchy and unpleasant as he could be— as he had been most days —him no longer skulking through the halls was disbarring.

Was wrong.

"Toshi!"

"Obi!" Toshiko threw her arms out and open in front of her at the sight of her cousin. He hadn't changed much truth be told, except for a few small details— like the several gray strands that had seemed to have accumulated in his hair since the last time Toshiko had seen Obito, and the dark bags that had developed under his eyes —Obito still looked exactly the same since Toshiko had last seen him.

The same— at least for Obito —being covered in scars, one armed, slightly blind and somewhat deaf.

Uchiha Obito had been in a terrible rockslide when he'd been fourteen; he'd lost his left eye and was missing his right arm. The entire right half of his face had been terribly scarred from the rocks nearly caving in that side of his skull and though he could still somewhat hear out of his right ear at nearly fifty Obito had started wearing a bright green hearing aid.

Obito's left arm wrapped around Toshiko's waist while hers wrapped around his shoulders. Shisui with a clap to Obito back passed the two and walked down the long hall that lead to the kitchen.

"I'm glad you're here," Obito said lowly, before pulling away, his palm against her hip.

"Like I wouldn't come," Toshiko responded, squeezing his shoulder before once more pulling him into a tight death grip of a hug.

A moment later after they had untangled themselves from each other and Obito had ushered her towards the kitchen Toshiko was met with Kakashi, Mari, Shisui and her brothers all gathered around the kitchen island, all quietly talking to one another, the dorayaki Shisui had mentioned was laid out in a dish on the island.

Sasuke had positioned himself next to Kakashi furthest from Itachi; Mari, who's hands rested atop her swollen stomach was leaning against Shisui front as he had wrapped his arms around her from behind, his lips pressed firmly against her shoulder.

"Yo," Kakashi waved, smiling from under his mask. Toshiko could remember all the times she and Sasuke and their friends— all of Toshiko's friends had been older then her; Sasuke's age and usually in his homeroom class —had tried to catch Kakashi without his mask on.

When he and Obito had held their wedding ceremony Obito's Maid of Honor, his and Kakashi's friend Rin, had handed the married pair a wreath size bouquet in order to hide Kakashi's face during their first kiss.

"Kakashi," Toshiko waved back, her head jerking upwards. Sasuke smiled faintly at Toshiko as Mari had moved out from Shisui's hold and hobbled herself over to Toshiko who— as best she could —hugged the woman. Mari rocked Toshiko from side to side.

"You've grown!" Mari said, still rocking Toshiko from foot to foot. Though Mari and Shishu had only married several years ago Toshiko had known the woman since she and Shisui had first started dating, back when she'd been eleven and in despite need of a womanly figure in her life.

"No I haven't Mari," Toshiko said, "I'm pretty sure I stopped growing in the tenth grade. You on the other hand—" Toshiko leaned back and rested one of her hands on the side of Mari's swollen stomach. She looked up at the older woman through her lashes, "—Do we know if it's a boy or a girl yet?"

The last time she had called Mari and Shisui the fetus hadn't been turned in the right direction for the obstetrician to determine the gender; just that the baby was healthy, which at the end of the day was all that was important.

"We do actually," Mari said, she looked to Shisui who straightened under his wife's gaze. He nodded, "It's a boy."

"That's great," Toshiko said; Itachi clapped Shisui on the back as Kakashi raised his cup of whatever up into the air.

"We actually-I mean, I only seems right, we did only find out the day before," Mari sputtered, looking between Toshiko and her brothers and cousins, "As long as it's okay with the rest of you, of course."

"As long as what is?" Sasuke asked.

"We want to name the baby Madara, in honor of ōoji-san," Shisui said. Toshiko's head jerked back, Sasuke frowned and Obito blinked owlishly between Mari and Shisui.

"Why?" Sasuke asked, "You didn't even like ōoji-san."

"Sasuke," Itachi said in very reprimanding voice, one that made the muscles in the back of Toshiko's neck jump. It hadn't even been ten minutes; her throat tightened with the need to suddenly scream.

"What?" Sasuke sniped at Itachi, "It's true."

Toshiko saw Itachi's eyes narrow and the youngest of the five Uchiha stepped up to the kitchen island, one hand behind her and wrapped around Mari's wrist. Her blood hot; their grand uncle was dead— the man who had raised three out of the five of them —he hadn't even been buried yet and they were fighting.

"It's fine," Toshiko told Shisui, though her focus was on Sasuke; her voice air and fair lighter then normal, "I mean you remember when Daiki was born right?" She looked at Shisui, "Ōoji-san almost had an aneurism when he found out you didn't name him after your dad."

Madara had gone on and on about how reusing family names was important, how it showed respect towards their ancestors and how— apparently —young people seemed to have none of that anymore.

"Yeah," Obito nodded, his tongue flicking out over his lips, "Honestly if you didn't name the baby after him the old man would probably come back from the grave so he could throttle you."

Sasuke shifted his weight, his lips pressed down into a frown. The combative look in his eyes was gone and had instead been replaced by a dull burning light, "Like he wouldn't come back to throttle us for any other reason."

Toshiko couldn't help but snort at her brothers words; he was right.

If anyone would reanimate themselves from death just to complain and lecture their still-living family members because they couldn't wait another fifty years until said family memeber died and joined them in the afterlife, it would be their grand uncle.

Toshiko pushed off the island.

"I'm going to put my stuff away-Sasu?" She looked at her brother, "Want to come help me?" It wasn't so much as request as it was an order; Toshiko jerked her head towards the kitchen archway. Sasuke's shoulders fell and though Toshiko knew he could have, he didn't argue with her when she took another step back, signaling that she was going to head to her childhood bedroom.

"Coming," her brother said before following her out of the kitchen. Sasuke, didn't bother to say anything before he slide Toshiko's backpack down her arm and over his; silently the pair clomped the houses two narrow flights of stairs until they were standing outside of Toshiko's old bedroom.

Sasuke's bedroom had been across the hall from hers.

At first Madara had tried to keep Itachi and Sasuke close together and Toshiko on the floor below, with him and Obito only to give up and swap Itachi and Toshiko's rooms after three months of Toshiko to sneaking out bed every other night and worming her way into Sasuke's; back then Toshiko used to have terrible nightmare's about the crash and the only person who could ever seem to comfort after them her was Sasuke.

Growing up Sasuke had always been the brother she'd run to when scared or hurt; Itachi was who she went to when she needed advice about life. Shisui was who she had went to when she was in trouble and needed to get out of it— preferably without her grand uncle or brothers finding out —while Obito was the person Toshiko had always went to when she needed to be cheered up.

Toshiko threw open her bedroom door and stepped into the room; the paint on the walls had faded over the years, dulling the champagne pink color Toshiko— and her best friend; a boy she still carried around in the back of her heart, but never wanted to think about —had painted them in middle school. Dozens of photos she hadn't taken with her to university or her new apartment in Fukuako were still hanging up on the wall.

The stuffed dinosaur her father had gotten her when she'd been born— the one she'd long ago named Mamarou; Protector —was on her bed; for the two years following the crash and the move she'd carried the yellow Tyrannosaurus-Rex everywhere with her.

School, play dates, the doctors; it hadn't mattered where she was, for years Mamarou had been with her.

"You don't have to play peace keeper all the time you know," Sasuke said, sitting on Toshiko's bed. Her bag next to him. "Itachi and I are big boys now, we don't need our little sister stepping in every time we have a disagreement."

Disagreement her ass, Toshiko could remember the arguments Itachi and Sasuke used to have, the ones that would quickly turn into screaming matches if no one— if she hadn't —intervened; more then once those fight's had nearly caused the two to come to blows.

"Yeah and if I don't who will? Shisui? Obi?" Toshiko rolled her eyes as she opened her backpack. She shot her brother a look from the corner of her eyes as she began to take her clothes out of her bag, "Did you really have to start though?"

"Come on," Sasuke scoffed, his voice bitter, "I didn't start anything-Shisui was never close to ōoji-san, not like we were."

"Maybe not," Toshiko conceded, "But he was still Shisui's ōoji too and besides, it's not like the rest of us are having kids any time soon so really, where's the harm?"

Sasuke shrugged, "It's wrong, ōoji-he, he was ours. Even when he was here Shisui was never interested in getting to know him, all he and Itachi ever wanted to do was chase after Obito and Kakashi and study. Him naming his kid Madara, it'd be like naming it after dad. Our dad."

Toshiko pushed her bag and clothes to the side and sat next to Sasuke, her head resting against his upper arm.

"Want to say that again and hear how you sound? Our ōoji?" Sasuke let out an indignant huff, "Sasu, if ōoji-san was here you'd know what he'd say right?"

The hum Sasuke let out sounded like an irked growl; "Stop being a piece of shit and be nice to your brother and cousins. Uchiha's are supposed to stick together. He'd say how we're stronger together." United we stand and divided we fall; and all that.

"Exactly," Toshiko nodded.

Over the years since they'd come into his care Madara had told Toshiko— and the boys —about him and his brothers. About how in the beginning there'd been five of them; Uchiha's Akihiko, Keiji, Isao, Madara and Inzuna and how the oldest four of them had all fought like cats and dogs growing up for a myriad of different reasons and how the minute he had turned fifteen Madara had left Konoha and his brothers behind without so much as a second thought.

Madara had told them all about how he had taken off to travel the world— all about his travels —and how one by one his brothers had followed until the last to leave nearly thirty years later was the youngest brother of the bunch— Toshiko and Sasuke and Itachi's own grandfather —Inzuna.

Madara had said how he hadn't thought much of his brothers while he'd been traveling. That until he'd come back to Konoha at nearly fifty years old with expectations, Madara hadn't really allowed himself to think of his brothers and what had become of them, partially because he had been too angry to think of them— even years after having left Konoha —and partially because he had expected them to do fine so to him, there hadn't been a reason to think— worry —about them.

He'd expected them to all have large families, homes of their own that they'd built near enough to their ancestral land only to come back and find grave after grave; his father was dead, as were all of his brothers except for one.

His second eldest brother Kenji had died first, shortly after leaving Konoha. He'd taken a job as a fisher and gone overboard, drowning before his crewmates could pull him back aboard.

Next had been Akihiko who'd passed from some kind of illness; his widow and son— Obito's father —were still in town. That was how Madara had met them, at the foot of his eldest brothers grave. After Akihiko, Isao and his wife, a sister-in-law Madara hadn't even known he'd had, had both died in a house fire. At the time they'd left behind a young son— Shisui's father —who Madara's last living brother Inzuna had taken in.

Inzuna had been in his late thirties when Madara— who was nearly thirteen years older then him —had found him. He was no longer the same little boy who had once followed Madara around like some kind of lost duckling; he had buried his father by himself, survived the war and married the nurse who had swept him off his feet and save his life all in one breath. He'd had a son and a nephew he adored like his own.

He had changed; grown up, and to Inzuna growing up meant he no longer wanted anything to do with Madara.

Madara always said that if it weren't for the fact that he had moved back to Konoha after Inzuna had turned him away— back into their families ancestral home with Obito's grandmother and father —Madara would have never known his younger brother had died shortly after Shisui's birth.

Nor would had Toshiko's grand uncle ever gotten the letter Inzuna had written him; the one Fugaku— Toshiko's father —had given him upon her grandfathers death.

The only part of the story Madara had never told them what was in the letter; all he ever said about the letter his brother had left him was that it was a letter full of regrets, ones they— Toshiko and her brothers and cousins —had to be careful not to repeat.

"It almost doesn't feel real," Sasuke said a moment later so quietly Toshiko had nearly missed it. Like what he was saying was some kind of secrete, and perhaps to Sasuke— who always looked like he rather have his teeth pulled then actually talk about the emotions raging inside of him —it was. "I miss him."

"Yeah," she said thickly. "I do too."

0.0.0.0

Hours after arriving and settling in Toshiko was in her room; Masshu was curled up at her side, tired after having played with Daiki and Hideko. She was supposed to be sleeping— napping —before dinner but she couldn't, not when she had a hundred and one thoughts racing through her mind, weighing her down.

Masshu's head rested on her stomach, his golden eyes met Toshiko's dark ones and the human girl let out a heavy sounding sigh.

There was a box of pictures in her closet pushed all the way to back of the shelf Kakashi had put up year ago for her. They weren't of Madara or her brothers or cousins but rather of someone else Toshiko missed.

Someone who she shouldn't miss, who was no longer hers to miss.

Toshiko threaded her fingers through Masshu's white fur and scratched between her dogs shoulder blades as she willed herself to stay on the bed. She was already sad; already mourning one loss. She tried to tell herself that there was no room in her heart for another but Toshiko knew that was a lie.

There was always room in her heart for him; it was as if her heart had been made for him. Molded into his shape and left with the imprint of his fingers so that it would never forget him.

"I am such a loser," Toshiko said to Masshu. She knew if Sasuke or Shisui came in and found her thinking of the box they'd burn it. Say it was doing more harm then good collecting dust up there; that it had been years.

Ten years, to be exact. A decade.

Obito would say she needed to move on and not in the half hearted way she'd been doing since university but truly. Really.

Madara wouldn't though, he never had when the topic of dating— of her moving on —came up. He'd always given her a measured look and told her how he understood; Uchiha's felt differently then others. They felt more deeply, and while perhaps sometimes they kept their feelings bottled up that didn't mean those feelings weren't there.

Weren't consuming them.

Toshiko curled herself around Masshu and let herself feel; in two hours time she'd be at her grand uncles favorite restaurant trying to swallow her feelings with a side of soba noodles. At least until she was back inside her room and could cry into her pillow.

0.0.0.0

Yashuda was a izakaya style restaurant that had opened when Konoha had first been founded; Toshiko's grand uncle had been going to the restaurant since he'd been a child, back before they had ever even thought of buying the building next-door and expanded. Yashuda had been where Madara had taken Toshiko and her brothers and cousins to celebrate everything— birthday's, achievements, it hadn't mattered what the reason for celebration was for —so it had only made sense to have their first dinner back in town there.

The restaurant lights were low and the new song radio stations loved to over play— Here by Alessia Cara —was set low over the speakers in the background; the bar on the other side of the restaurant was littered with people in loose ties and ties and long skirts, all celebrating the end of the work week.

Toshiko had squeezed herself between Itachi and Hideko, who had, before they all left for the restaurant, had made sure to let everyone know that she wanted to sit next to her mother and Toshiko.

Shisui had Daiki on his lap as they waited for the entrees— their appetizers littered the table, some of the plates with nothing one them and others with pieces of edamame and shumai still left —and though their hands were out of sight Toshiko knew her eldest cousin and his husband's fingers were interlocked together under the table.

Sasuke was across from tell telling a story about how he and the rest of Taka— his team; Toshiko had met them once in passing when she'd been visiting Sasuke —had snuck into a country Sasuke refused to name and rescued the daughter of a Swiss diplomat. His lips had twisted upwards as he recounted how Jugo, the tall, orange haired man he worked along side had nearly shot himself in the foot when a large— nearly hare sized —rat had run over his foot.

"But did he scream?" Kakashi asked, his eyes alight with mischief as he leaned across Obito and towards Sasuke.

"You know it. Jugo can talk all the shi—" Mari coughed loudly in Sasuke's direction, her eyes flickered pointedly to Hideko, "—Uff, stuff," Sasuke covered, "He want's but when you get down to it he's a complete cry baby."

"Tall, bright hair, over emotional. Just your type, right?" Shisui snickered as Daiki scribbled on the placemat he'd been given when they'd all been seated.

Toshiko took a sip of her plum wine in favor of laughing. Obito, who like her, only liked sweet drinks, had ordered them the Awamori Umeshu, a plum wine, and truth be told Toshiko couldn't find herself disappointed in her cousins choice of drink.

Sasuke's face went pink, "Shut up."

"Ooh," Hideko sung, "Sasu-oji has a crush!"

"I do not," Sasuke said. He picked one half of the chopsticks he'd sat down when he'd finished picking at the appetizers and flipped it so that he was holding the end that picked up the food; Sasuke leaned across the table and bopped Hideko lightly in the nose, "Twerp."

Hideko's mouth dropped open indignantly. She moved to kneel on her seat— so that like Sasuke she could lean across the table —only for Mari to grab hold of Hideko's shoulder.

"But mama!" Hideko tried as she attempted to wiggle out from under her mothers hold only to pause when she caught sight of the sobering look Mari was shooting her. The young girl's eyes widened as she allowed her mother to push her back down into her seat.

When Mari turned to speak to Itachi Hideko leaned against the table and poked her tongue out at Sasuke who pretended not to see it in favor of answering Obito's question; whether or not this was the kidnapping that had made international news when it'd first happened.

"What do you think?" Sasuke replied.

"That's why I'm asking you!"

"Since when dose he tell us though," Shisui said with a smile, "Hell I bet if Sasuke here saved the world he wouldn't tell us whether it was him or not, just that he and his team went on a cool mission."

"They're jobs not missions," Sasuke rolled his eyes, "And I can't. I know you can't read and all but there are these things called non-disclosure agreements I have to sign every time I renew my contract."

"I can read thank you," Shisui snarked back, his usual easy-going smirk stretching across his face, "Besides what's a little fine between family?"

"Little?" Sasuke scoffed, "Try eleven million, fourteen thousand and five hundred yen."

Toshiko let out a squeak at the number, Itachi nearly choked on his drink— showing he'd been at least half listening to Sasuke and Shisui's conversation—while Kakashi let out a low sounding whistle and Shisui's head bobbed back.

"Jesus," he said, "Never mind, keep your secretes."

"Sweet, foods here." And like that the table of Uchiha's— and Kakashi —stopped talking and turned on command in the direction of their waitress and the other members of the Yashuda wait staff that had been roped into bringing them their food.

One by one the wait staff dropped plates of various cooked mountain vegetables, ika kara age and maguro tatuta age— deep fried squid with sweet chili sauce and flash fried tuna —samurai steak, chicken curry before they placed a large bowl of what had been Madara's favorite, the yakisoba combination platter in the middle of the table.

Once the wait staff had once again spirited off to the back of the restaurant and to the other tables and the patrons sitting at them, the eight Uchiha's and Hatake Kakashi paused; Obito raised his glass. The rest of them followed; Hideko raised her glass of juice along side her mothers and Toshikos'.

"I propose a toast," Obito said in an almost dignified sort of voice and familiar playful kind of smirk, that only meant one thing, "To Uchiha Madara. He was spiteful and rude and maybe he wasn't the kindest but once you peeled back his layers he was good. So, to ōoji-san, may he be happy where he is and may he rest pleasantly until the rest of kick the bucket and annoy him once more. Here!"

"Here here!" Toshiko and the others called before bringing the rims of their cups to their mouths and drinking.

"Time to dig in," Shisui grinned, setting Daiki back in his own chair next to him. "Itadakimasu."

Toshiko, after following her older cousins example and expressing thanks for her meal, reached for the cooked mountain vegetables and ika kara age, pausing over the samurai steak before she decided to grab herself a piece of that as well.

If Itachi liked it Sasuke would— like a petulant child —eat most of it so that Itachi wouldn't be able to while if if Kakashi decided that he he liked it, Obito would pile almost all of the steak up onto his own plate to save it so that Kakashi would be able to eat it at home, where no one would be gawking at him, trying to see what the rest of his face looked like.

"Obi-ji!" Hideko said with a frown, Toshiko, mid bite looked at the girl from the corner of her eyes and then to Obito who had the bowl of yakisoba noodles in hand, "You can't eat sōsofu's soba noodles! You know that's all he eats, if you eat that what will he eat when he comes back?"

Toshiko felt the bite of fuki and other mountain vegetables turn to ash in her mouth.

Obito's smile fell and Sasuke, who'd been chewing on his bite of curry grabbed his still somewhat full glass of sake and brought it up to his lips.

"Sweetheart," Mari said gently, "Hideko-chan, papa and I told you about Sōsofu-san."

"Yeah, you and papa said he went away," Hideko blinked, "But Obi-ji even said we'd see him later and sōsofu-san's going to be hungry when he comes back." Hideko's voice was filled with such innocence only a child— untouched by any true horrors the world beheld —could have.

Mari's face softened as it fell.

"No, sweetheart. Sōsofu-san isn't coming back." Hideko's brows creased as her face twisted in confusion.

It was the same look Sasuke had worn when he'd woken up in the hospital after the crash and Itachi had told him about their parents. Like he hadn't understood what the words coming out of Itachi's mouth— "Mom and dad are dead, Sasuke." —had meant.

"What do you mean he's not coming back, he couldn't have moved we were at his house before, so he has to come back."

"Hideko-chan," Itachi said gently, moving to the edge of his chair, "You know what death is right? When characters on television and in movies die, you know what the means, right?" Hideko nodded, the crease between her brows got deeper.

Her brother looked at his sister and then at their mother and father and the rest of their family, unlike Hideko who was viably connecting the dots in her head, he still looked lost.

"It means that they're gone," Hideko said softly. She shook her head, "But Sōsofu-san can't be dead though. He's not."

Toshiko blinked her eyes rapidly, she was in a restaurant. She was twenty-six— a fully grown adult woman with a job and an apartment and a dog all of her own —she couldn't break down crying next to her cousins daughter in public, no matter how sad she was.

She took another sip of her wine; the once sweet flavor suddenly bitter on her tongue.

Hideko's bottom lip trembled as her eyes glossed over.

"Hey Hideko-chan!" Shisui said in a falsetto tone, the smile that was on his face was obviously fake, "How about you and I go outside for some air okay?"

"Okay," Hideko croaked, her small voice cracking. Shisui didn't hesitate in picking her up once he'd wiggled out from between Daiki and Sasuke; when neither of them were could any longer been seen Toshiko set her chopsticks down on her plate, her eyes flickering to the others.

"I'm-I need to use the restroom, I'll be right back." Sasuke nodded and with that Toshiko— with her eyes turned downwards towards the floor in hopes no one would see the tears in them —all but hit the ground running which was why she wasn't all that surprised to have hit someone as she went to turn the corner that lead to the restaurants bathrooms.

Hand's grabbed at Toshiko's waist as she teetered backward, her right hand had shot out and fisted itself into the white button-down of whomever she'd nearly run down.

"Sorry about—" Toshiko cut herself off with a blink. Her mouth had dropped open slightly at the sight of the man before her; her breath caught in her throat. Her heart both stopped and sped up. The tears that had been welling up in her eyes only second before were no longer anywhere to be found.

"Shika?" She breathed out, though she still seemed unable to take a breath. Not that she was really focused on breathing, but rather the man in front of her, "Maru?" she added on choppily after another blink; he really was there in front of her.

She swallowed the leaden lump that had appeared with Nara Shikamaru's arrival.

"Shikamaru-san," she said again, this time all together and with a slight tremor.

"Toshi," he said in the same kind of shaky, breathy voice she'd used; he didn't however, add on the rest of her name or any honorific but instead smiled at her. Warmly and brightly in a way that made Toshiko feel like she had been both submerged into an ice bath and thrown onto hot coals; like she was cold and burning at the same time.

"I didn't realize you were back," Shikamaru said, his smile dimmed and he looked sorry. Not the pitiful kind of sorry most people wore after someone's death— like they were sorry for you —but rather, Shikamaru's smiled dimmed and the sorry look that overtook his face was the kind that read apologetic; like if he could somehow fit it— bring Uchiha Madara back to life —he would.

"I mean," he corrected, "I heard about your ōoji-everyone has. I'm sorry for your loss. Madara, he was a good guy. I just, didn't realize you back already." The point of his tongue darted out and swept along his bottom lip.

"Yeah," Toshiko said, "I got in this morning."

"You drove?" Shikamaru's brows darted up in astonishment. Toshiko snorted at the question, and for a moment her nerves melted away.

"Are you kidding me? I took the train in." While she was fine in the passenger seats of cars— sort of; that was more a recent development that had only just happened and only with people she trusted —just the thought of even driving one made the twenty-six year old break out into an anxious sweat.

"That makes sense," Shikamaru nodded, his shoulders dropped and he sucked in a deep breath of air; something Toshiko felt she might have forgotten how to do. "How have you been though? Besides your ōoji, I mean."

He cares, a tiny voice in the back of Toshiko's mind crowed happily. Snuffing that voice out Toshiko shrugged, only to be reminded that not only was her hand was still wrapped up in the front of Shikamaru's shirt, twisted around the forest green tie he had loosed around his neck but his were still planted on her waist.

With a burning face Toshiko dropped her hand and took two half-steps backwards; Shikamaru twitched where he stood.

"Fine," she said. "You?"

"Good," he replied, his shoulders once more tense. His hands shoved deep into his pockets. "I work in the mayors office now," he said with a proud half-smile.

"That's great," Toshiko congratulated, "Really."

"And you?" Shikamaru wondered, "You graduated last year, right?"

Ten months ago but really, who was counting? Toshiko nodded, "Yeah, I got a job in Fukuoka at the prosecutors office about six months ago. I just sat second chair to my first homicide trial last month."

"That's great!" Shikamaru said, his hands moved from his pockets to her arms only to pause, hovering over them like he wasn't quite sure if he should go in for the hug he'd about to give. A metal band on his right hand gleamed under the restaurants lights.

Toshiko's heart dropped into the pit of her twisting stomach.

"You're married," she gasped, unable to tear her eyes away from the silver band on his finger. Shikamaru's fingers curled inwards and he moved his hand so that it was resting against his chest. Toshiko finally looked away from the ring and to him; to his burning face.

"I-no," he shook his head, "Sure I have a ring but me? Married?" He let out a wheeze Toshiko supposed was meant to me an airy laugh; she hadn't ever heard him make that sound before. "I'm not," he said, his voice firm as he slipped the ring off his ring finger and between his thumb and index ones. "It's complicated. Long story, really, sort of troublesome to explain, you know?"

No. Toshiko wanted to say; because how could she know any sort of story in conation to marriage when she had only ever loved one man before. The man before her. It felt as if ice had been poured down shirt and was sliding down her back. No I don't.

"Yeah," she said instead.

"I could though," Shikamaru said in a half rushed but overall breathless sort of voice; it was the sort of voice Toshiko rarely heard growing up, the kind Shikamaru used when his plans fell apart and he was winging it. "Explain it, over lunch or something. Maybe? How long are you back for?"

If Toshiko hadn't known better— hadn't remembered the last ten years —she would have thought Shikamaru sounded nervous when he asked to explain his long ring-centered story.

"Not long," Toshiko said, "Just until after the funeral. I leave the day after that." So four days in total.

Toshiko tried not to think about the twitch in Shikamaru's shoulder or the way his knuckles had gone white and just how off kilter the man in front of her looked as he nodded but rather— as Shikamaru grimaced —Toshiko focused on the curve of his nose and how much she hoped he couldn't hear her hemorrhaging heart pounding in her chest.

"Then maybe we could meet up then. Grab breakfast together or something before you leave?" Shikamaru proposed.

"Are you sure, I mean, working for the mayor must have you pretty busy? I'd hate to be troublesome and for you to have to go out of your way." Troublesome; a word Toshiko hadn't used in a decade rolled off her tongue like it was nothing. Like it had always been there, like she always used it.

"You wouldn't be," Shikamaru said, "Saying that I'm going out of my way makes it seem like a favor or something, and it wouldn't be Toshi. I want to catch up."

Oh, Toshiko thought. She smiled though, through the pain. It was a small doll-like smile.

Why couldn't he have gotten meaner in the past ten years? Or uglier? Why did he have to look as beautiful has he'd always been; why did he have to have ring around his finger?

"Maybe," she said, which just meant not at all, "I'll have to see. Everyone is really broken up about ōoji-san's death."

"Right," Shikamaru swallowed, he nodded, "Right, of course."

His head tipped downwards and his eyes connected to Toshiko's. They were as dark as she could remember; they reminded Toshiko of Tahitian Pearls. Toshiko moved to step around him only for Shikamaru to step with her.

"I'm here if you-any of you—," he said, earnestly, "—Need something. Anything, it doesn't matter what, or when. I'm here."

And there was the kindness Toshiko had fallen in love with years ago; no matter how lazy Shikamaru could be, no matter how unmotivated he was at any given moment, if she had needed him— his help —he had always been right there next to her, willing to do whatever need be.

Toshiko couldn't help but think that maybe he had gotten meaner over the past ten years. That it would have been nicer— hurt less —if he had reached through Toshiko's chest and twisted her hear manually.

"Thank you Shikamaru," Toshiko said softly before moving around him. She tried not to look like she was running towards the women's bathroom, where Toshiko— for the first time since she had last found herself in Konoha; since she had last seen Shikamaru —broke down in stall.

As she cried in the restaurant stall Toshiko couldn't help but wish she could go back twenty years. Back to the start.

#shikamaru nara #shikamaru nara x reader #shikamaru nara x oc #oc: toshiko #my writing #naruto fanfiction #shikamaru nara fanfiction

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crystalstar8 · 3 years

Text

Knights of the Night (ch 15)

Chapter 15

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14, ch 15

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 2,459

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j @daechwitad-2 @zobadak @fallenstar-7

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing…

Catalina was nervous. She had changed her outfit almost ten times and was already pulling a sweater out of her closet for an eleventh. She eyed her suitcase in the corner of her room. No, don’t open it, you’ll have to repack, she told herself. Her phone buzzed from her bed. It was a text from Jungkook.

JK: I’m on my way

“Shit,” Catalina mumbled. She looked between the sweater in her hand and the one laying on the floor. The one in her hand was a bit nicer so she pulled that one on. She tucked it into her skirt, then slipped into her ankle boot heels. As she was checking her hair and makeup in the bathroom mirror for the last time, she heard her front door open. Rounding the corner, she saw Jungkook standing in the hallway, tapping the snow off his boots on the rug. Catalina grabbed her coat.

“You look so cute!” he said as she came over for a hug.

“I always look cute, what are you talking about?” she said. He grinned, his nose scrunching up and his eyes turning to crescents. He looked good too, in a turtleneck under his peacoat. It was amusing to her, knowing that he still had a few lingering marks on his neck. They had both dealt with enough teasing from their friends over the past few days, they definitely didn’t need Jungkook’s family on that train as well.

“Ready to go?” he asked. Catalina nodded and followed him out the door, locking up behind her.

The car ride was short, only a minute or two since they lived a block away from each other. There were two other cars in the driveway, which Jungkook parked behind. As they got out of the car, Jungkook said, “So, my brother is kind of annoying. Just warning you. He’s in law school and he’s a bit of an asshole about it.”

“Be an asshole about your film major right back to him,” said Catalina, making him laugh.

“Easy,” he said. “I’ll just start talking about my favorite directors and artsy films.”

His house was warm and inviting, as it always was, but today, it was cleaner than Catalina’s seen it in a long time. Maybe ever. A small Christmas tree stood in the corner, decorated with mismatched bulbs and ornaments.

Jungkook’s mom came out of the kitchen, pulling oven mitts off her hands. She saw Catalina and her eyes lit up.

“Catalina! It’s so good to see you!” she said, pulling her into a hug. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Yeah, me too!” Catalina said. “I never get to see you guys, so I’m glad to be able to spend some time with you all.”

“Of course, you’re always welcome,” she said. “My husband and I are always so busy with work, I feel bad. Anyway, come into the kitchen. The food’s almost ready. Jungkook, go help set the table.”

Dinner was beautiful, and Catalina had fun listening to Jungkook’s family try to embarrass him by sharing childhood stories. He wasn’t embarrassed though, always laughing with the table and sharing his own details about the experiences. It sounded like the family hiked and camped a lot while the boys were growing up, so there were plenty of adventure stories to go along with that. Catalina asked about his parent’s jobs and they told her about what they do at the hospital during their overnight shifts. They were both nurses, but they also did volunteer work every chance they got. Jungkook’s brother was indeed a bit of an asshole about being a law student, but Jungkook cracked everyone up by talking about his favorite film, “Persepolis”, pronouncing it “Pear-say-po-li”.

Catalina had a great time, but she didn’t stay too late since her and Jungkook had a flight to catch in the morning. Jungkook dropped her off at home that night, kissing her softly in the car before she got out.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

“I can’t wait,” she said, pecking his lips once more before getting out of the car. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said.

It feels so good to say that, Catalina thought as she took the stairs to her apartment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The airport was crowded with people rushing to travel for the holidays. Catalina was thrumming with excitement. She hadn’t seen her mom since before her first semester. She had never lived away from her home before, never away from her mom for so long. She couldn’t wait to see her, and to introduce Jungkook to her. They found their flight easily enough in the giant building, and soon enough, they were in the air, en route to Detroit.

Catalina’s mom was waiting for them at the airport when they landed. As soon as Catalina exited the gates, she ran, giving her mom a long hug.

“Oooh, dios mio, how I’ve missed you!” her mom said, holding her tight.

“I missed you too, mom,” said Catalina. She pulled away and looked over at Jungkook. “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Jungkook.”

“What a cutie you are!” her mother said as she gave Jungkook a hug as well. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Diaz,” said Jungkook.

“Ms. Diaz. Or you can just call me Lucía. Come, lets go home,” she said. “This place is too crowded.”

Catalina sat in the passenger seat of her mom’s car on the way home. It wasn’t a long drive, their house was just outside of the city. During the drive, she wondered if she should reach out to her old friends. They had never once texted or checked up on her while she was away, so maybe it was best to leave them behind.

The house looked exactly the same as when she last saw it and it gave her a sense of comfort to come back to the familiarity. After Catalina and Jungkook got settled into her old room, her mom called them downstairs to help bake cookies. While baking, Catalina and Jungkook told her all about their classes and professors. After the cookies came out, they had fun decorating them in weird and interesting ways. Jungkook decorated a gingerbread man with red eyes and fangs, which Catalina took a picture of to send to their friends.

Later in the evening, Lucía took them all out to dinner at a nice place in downtown Detroit. The restaurant was beautiful; bistro lights dripped from the ceiling, branching out from the twisting paper tree in the center of the dining room. Over dinner, Catalina told her mother about her friends in California, and about their trip to the lodge. Her and Jungkook left out the parts about their friends being vampires.

“I want to know how the two of you got together,” said Lucía. “She didn’t date much in high school, so this is so exciting to me.”

“I had a girlfriend in my senior year,” Catalina mumbled. Lucia waved a hand.

“That doesn’t count,” she said. Catalina glanced at Jungkook, who was frowning after hearing this exchange. Catalina put a hand on his knee under the table and decided not to argue.

“Well, we met in our French class,” Catalina started. “We became friends and we hung out a lot for the first few months of the semester. I mean, I never really knew I had a crush on him at first, I knew he was attractive, but I only saw him as a friend. Then one day, he kissed me, and we’ve been an item ever since.”

Lucía had a hand over her heart as she listened.

“That’s so sweet,” she said. “You two are a beautiful couple and I can see you’re so happy with each other. I’m just…so relieved that you found a nice boy and-“

“Mom,” Catalina interrupted.

“I just didn’t want you to fall back into those high school phases you were in,” she said. “I was so worried I would lose you to the wrong kind of people. There’s so many influences online these days and I just wanted you to be successful in life. That kind of lifestyle comes with drugs and-“

“I’m gonna go to the restroom,” Jungkook said, standing up and giving her shoulder a squeeze.

“Mom, stop it,” Catalina said. As soon as Jungkook was out of sight, she said, “My boyfriend is bisexual too. And so are some of my other friends at school. They’re all amazing people and I would do anything for them. I don’t like when you say things like this.”

“Catalina, you know I love you no matter what,” her mother said. “I just want the best for you.”

“It’s not something anyone can control,” Catalina said. “Whether I fall in love with a man or a woman, I’ve always hoped you could be happy for me no matter what.”

“I am happy for you,” Lucía said, reaching over to take Catalina’s hand. “You’re following your dream and you seem so happy with your life right now. I think I need to get used to the idea of my daughter being bisexual, there’s just so many bad connotations that come with that community. At least from when I was growing up.”

“Things are different now,” Catalina said.

“I know, I know,” Lucía said. “I think I just need to get used to this. At the end of the day, I just want you to be safe and happy. I think a man would be able to provide for you better later in life.”

“You of all people should know that’s not true,” Catalina said. “You raised me alone, and we were always pretty well off.”

Lucía raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “You got me there.”

Catalina giggled and squeezed her mom’s hand.

“I love you, cariña,” Lucía said. “Just remember that.”

“I love you too, mom,” said Catalina.

Jungkook came back and Catalina took his hand as soon as he sat down.

“I’m sorry if what I said earlier was offensive,” Lucía said to him.

“It’s okay,” Jungkook said, flashing a smile.

“I’m trying, it was just so different when I was young,” she said.

“It’s really okay,” Jungkook said with a chuckle. “This sounds exactly like the conversation I had with my own mom when I was sixteen.”

Lucía laughed and the conversation turned to the topic of Jungkook’s family. Dinner went on peacefully. Catalina was glad she got this conversation off her chest. She had been struggling with that topic ever since she came out in high school. It really sounded like her mother was trying to understand, and Catalina couldn’t be more grateful.

The next day was Christmas Eve. Catalina and Jungkook took a day trip to Frankenmuth, which, as soon as they arrived, they realized was a bad idea. Frankenmuth was packed with people, but the pair still managed to have a good time. They ate dinner at the Bavarian Inn and took a carriage ride around the town. They walked the underground mall and the outdoor shops, but only bought gifts for Lucía, since everything was terribly overpriced. They didn’t even shop for each other, since they both confessed they had already bought each other Christmas gifts a long time ago. Snow covered the ground and everything was wrapped in Christmas lights in the little town. Just walking through the beautiful scenery hand in hand with Jungkook was wonderful.

They returned home late that evening, wrapping their gifts in Catalina’s room and going to bed afterwards.

Christmas morning was pleasant; Lucía cooked them a big breakfast, then they opened gifts in the living room. Catalina had two gifts from her mom. The first one was a Visa gift card and a heartfelt letter. The second gift was a quilt. Each patch depicted a different cat from t-shirts, towels and linens.

“You’re grandmother started making this before she passed away,” Lucía said. “You remember her nickname for you?”

“Gatita,” Catalina said, tears prickling her eyes.

“I found it just recently and I decided to finish it for you,” Lucía said. “Just something to remember her by, something your children can use.”

Catalina felt a tear run down her cheek. She wiped it away and got up to hug her mom.

“This is wonderful,” said Catalina. “I love it so much.”

“I’m glad you like it, cariña,” her mom said, hugging her back tight. “I know I don’t have a lot for you, like when you were a kid, but I didn’t want you to have to lug a bunch of stuff back to California with you.”

“No mom, it’s perfect,” she said. “This is perfect.”

Lucía then opened Catalina’s gift, which was a silver bracelet from Frankenmuth. Jungkook had gotten her a handmade scarf and hat set, and she had given him another Visa gift card.

At some point during the day, Catalina made sure to find time for herself and Jungkook. Lucía went to pick up groceries in the afternoon, which was when Catalina took the opportunity to give Jungkook his gift.

They were pressed together on the couch, both holding a little gift bag in their hands.

“You first,” Jungkook said, handing her his bag. She took it and opened it, finding a little box in the bottom. Her heart beat fast as she opened it, revealing a ring with the moon in a glass bubble. She gasped and handed his gift over frantically.

“Open this right now!” she said, pulling the ring out and putting on her middle finger. He did, his eyes getting wide as he opened the slightly bigger box.

“No way,” he said, looking up at her.

“How the hell did this happen?” Catalina asked, holding in giddy laughter. Jungkook pulled the necklace out of the box and put it on. The charm on the chain held the moon in a little glass bubble. The same moon as the one in her ring.

“We bought each other the same thing,” he said, laughing.

It was the waxing half-moon from the night they shared their first kiss in the vampire den.

When Lucía came back home, they immediately showed her their unplanned gifts for each other. She laughed for about ten minutes. She then recruited them to help cook dinner, which was an exciting ordeal. Catalina was happy to learn how to cook all of her favorite dishes.

The three of them ended up having a beautiful dinner together, bright with laughter and conversation.

The next few days passed in a blur. They went out, cooked together, played games, and watched movies. Before they knew it, the week was over and it was time for Catalina and Jungkook to travel again for the next leg of their trip. Catalina was reluctant to leave her mom, but she was absolutely filled with anticipation for her stay in the cabin.

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halo-jpeg · 3 years

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Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 1

"Bill, why? Why would you say yes to that party? We don't know him! What if he's some serial killer? What if he tries to get us to do drugs? What if he kills us or lives in a dumpster or something?" Eddie is erratic, his drink still in his hand. They were hardly off the block of the little cafe known as Portland Authentic. Eddie hadn't been too fond of the guy behind the counter, mostly because he had written 'Eds' on his coffee cup. "I mean- we only just got to Portland and you're already going to get us killed or something!"

"Eddie, it'll be fine," Stan is the one to cut in with reassurance, taking a sip from his own cup and somehow not flinching at the taste of the straight caffeine, "Yeah, he was a little energetic but he didn't seem malicious. I think it'll be a good opportunity to get to know some new people." Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but Bill beat him to it, and no one had the disrespect to talk over Bill. That was just... off limits, so Eddie shut his mouth again and tried not to grimace.

"Buh-buh-besides," He started, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other soaking up the warmth of his cinnamon cappuccino, "It'll be guh-good to get out and see what kind of people Portland has to offer." With that, the discussion was closed, and Eddie let it drop with just a sigh, trying to shake away the lingering annoyance clinging to his mind. There were too many good things about Portland to worry about the bad things- in just a few days he would be working towards his dream as a doctor- he had always wanted to be a doctor. When he was younger, he had wanted his career to be within the health arena for the sake of reassuring his mother that he could take care of himself without being stuck behind a desk- now, though, he wanted to become a doctor to prove his mother wrong, to learn all sorts of things that would help him confirm that he wasn't sick, and had never been sick like Sonia Kaspbrak had said he was.

The rest of the walk back home was near silent, consisting of craned necks and obvious gawking- Portland really was gorgeous, and so different from Derry. Rather than the tiny, modest homes Eddie and his friends grew up knowing, almost everything in the downtown area was some form of 19th century architecture or something alike- each building consisted of warm tones, arched windows, grand streetlamps with pots of colourful flowers. Eddie can't even imagine what it must look like in the daylight.

"Oh, here's my work," Stan said, seeming not to have realized what street they were wandering down. The three halted outside of a small flower shop, Roses on Deane, and approached the large, open windows in the front. The lights were out inside, obviously, but it was still possible to make out the shapes of many many bouquets. Stan had managed to score a job a few months back thanks to a cousin who had a friend who owned the place, and though Stan never considered himself a huge fan of flowers, Eddie could see how the place would fit him. At least one of them had a job- Eddie shudders to think that there is yet another huge thing he needs to get done this weekend. If he doesn't have a job by next weekend then he won't be able to pitch in to help with rent. Bill, who had been working at the library back home, had been transferred here too, so he was also getting payed bi-weekly. Eddie was alone in his unemployment, but that was okay. He was smart, and efficient, and he would get a job sooner or later somewhere.

"When do you start?" He asked, finally bringing his rapidly-cooling drink up to his lips. He braced himself for a horrid taste, taking a slow, tentative sip, and almost letting a sound of approval slip past his lips. It didn't... It didn't taste horrible. Peppermint was okay, in his opinion, and it balanced out the bitterness of the coffee just right.

"Tuesday at 5:00," Stan took one last glance through the window, smiling serenely and turning to continue on to their new apartment. Again, the three fell into silence, calm and comfortable. They walked another three blocks before spotting their building, and Bill was the one to pull out an access card to scan at the door. Their bags were already up in their house, and Eddie had even made a few comments on how he appreciated the security. Electronic locks were unheard of to Eddie until today, and he was pleased. Now, he was too exhausted to be pleased. His coffee had him buzzing, and he would force himself to stay awake until his suitcase was unpacked, but he couldn't wait to curl up in his new bed, away from his hometown for the first time in years.

"We'll have to go grocery shopping tuh-tomorrow," Bill hummed half to himself as he stepped into the elevator, clicking the button labeled with a '2'. "We won't have any fuh-fuh-food. I'll buy us breakfast in the morning."

"Thanks, Bill," Stan smiles, "We can make a meal plan, budget things out. Just to make sure we can always make rent." Eddie nodded along, and took another long sip of the minty-bitter drink in his hand.

"We should go look at the campus. I want to find out where my classes are, maybe." Eddie found himself rocking back and forth on his heels, watching the little glowing number above the elevator buttons blink from 'G' to '1' to, at last, '2'. With a ding, the doors slid open, and a dim hallway was presented to them, the lights on low now that it was just about 10:00 pm.

"I want to go see Back Cove Park at some point. The bird watching is great. They have egrets sometimes, and other birds I haven't seen yet. I always go there when I visit- it's like tradition." Stifling a yawn (not because of the bird talk- Eddie was just tired) Eddie nodded his head. In all honesty, a nature walk sounded nice. Already, he was missing the Barrens, the poor dam he remembers building with Bill ages and ages ago. "It's right on the water, so we can go fishing too, or swimming if you guys wanted to. It isn't always as warm as it is tonight, and it's only getting colder, but..." Stan shrugs. They arrive at their apartment door, number 29, and yet again Bill is the one to pull out his key and stick it into the lock, giving it a twist and pushing the door wide open. Eddie steps inside first, flicking on the light and taking in the sight of his new apartment.

The door opened up into a short hallway. To his direct right there was a door leading to a small closet. A little ways ahead, the hallway broke both left and right, the left way leading to the kitchen and living room along with the doors to the balcony and Bill's room- in turn, the right way led to the main bathroom and the two other bedrooms reserved for Eddie and Stan.

"Wuh-well, I guess this is goodnight," Bill says, shutting the door behind him and kicking off his shoes, "We all have a l-lot of unpacking to do, I'm sh-sure." Both Stan and Eddie nod in near-perfect unison.

"Goodnight, you guys. Enjoy your first sleep in our new house." Stan speaks with a grin, staring at both Eddie and Bill with that intense hazel gaze that seems to communicate the intense reality of the situation. The three men had made it out of their childhood town, and now they were living on their own. They really weren't children anymore. Along with that look in Stan's eyes came a heavy feeling of bittersweetness- Derry was gone, now, and with it, Eddie's childhood. He smiled at his two best friends, and then turned down the hallway to greet his room.

-----

"Alright, that's everything," Ben says as the doors to the cafe swing shut and he locks them tight.

"Another job well done, boy! Another fantastic job, I'd say!" Richie throws one arm over Ben's shoulders, and then the other pulls in Bev by the arm. Crushing his two buddies in a double side-hug, he speaks in his almost-perfected MovieTone Newsreel Announcer Voice, disturbing the silence of the dark Portland streets, "You're both quite the caffeine-mixin' maestros, eh? You'll do great things for this world, great things!"

"Beep-beep, Richie. I'm exhausted." Beverly was smiling, sure, but Richie really could tell that she was done with today. He let both she and Ben go, toning down his behavior and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to each along with his lighter. Ben declined as politely as possible, so Richie and Bev were left to smoke without him.

"You'll get those beers for me, won't you?" Richie asks, taking a drag and relishing in the way the smoke filled his lungs. He should probably quit sooner or later, huh? Maybe one day. "I've got the cash back home. I'll give it to you and you can just go buy whatever you want. Party booze of your choice." Ben let out a chuckle, waving a hand in front of his face to show his dislike of the cigarette smoke. Richie mumbled something akin to an apology.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get it. And don't worry about paying me back, I'll be drinking it too." Richie beamed. With a light punch to the shoulder, he turned his attention to Bev, ready to play a little bit of Cupid.

"You're coming too, right Bevvie?" He asked the question as if it were nothing, oh-so subtly bumping Ben with his elbow. Beverly shrugged.

"Probably. It's basically a sin to miss out on an infamous Tozier party, isn't it?" She placed the cigarette against her lips, and puffed out smoke right after. "What else is happening other than drinking too much and getting the Police called on us for being too loud?" Richie couldn't help but snicker at that. The Police had, on numerous occasions, been called on him for playing his music at ungodly levels, but, I mean, come on, he has fantastic taste and the world needs to know it.

"Who knows, maybe some pin the tail on the donkey? Musical chairs?" Ben and Beverly both let out a snort, the redhead spinning to face Richie with suddenly bright eyes.

"Please," She said with a wide, bright smile, "I would pay to see you get annihilated by Ben."

"Excuse me, Miss Marsh, but I pride myself on being a musical chairs master! I was unbeatable in my fifth grade class!" Placing a feign-offended hand on his chest, Richie guffawed, upturning his nose in mock disgust. Beverly was laughing now, a light and cheery sound almost like the jingling of the bell in the cafe but a little less annoying. The bell also didn't make Ben's face light up, and he didn't want to hear the bell forever.

"Probably because you were built like string cheese, Richie- No offense, of course." Beverly only laughed harder at Ben's quip, and yeah, Richie admits that it was pretty good and about 99% true.

"The best damn string cheese you've ever tasted, Haystack," Richie shot his friend a wink, lifting one foot and crushing his cigarette out on the sole of his shoe, "Now, my dearests, I must depart- nice work we did today, you two!" Richie flicked the butt away, speaking over his shoulder as he set off in the direction of home. "I'll see you both at my party!" He spins on his heel, waving Ben and Bev off with one last peace sign before continuing on into the darkness. Richie hummed a little tune to himself, a pep in his step despite his light tiredness. Oh, how he wanted to get home- the idea of cracking open a soda and sitting in front of the TV sounded pretty damn great right about now. For a Friday night the world was surprisingly quiet- the same wouldn't be said about tomorrow. Toziers were born to party. Richie's dad had thrown some ragers in his teenage days, and so had his mom- now, it was his turn to take on the family name and keep that legacy going. Other than beer he probably needed some snacks, chips or cookies or as Ben had so wonderfully suggested string cheese because who doesn't like string cheese? He made a mental note to go grocery shopping tomorrow and hoped that he didn't forget it.

Richie's apartment came into view, a pretty little six floor building made of a nice red brick. He lived on the top floor and his neighbors probably hated him for reasons that should be obvious enough but he'd yet to be kicked out which meant he still had some boundaries to push. He'd been brewing up a new party playlist for a few days now and he made yet another mental note to throw on 'Dancing Queen'. Richie's humming transformed into whistling as he pulled open the door to his building, waving to the late-night receptionist, a kind young lady who hated his guts and probably thought he was flirting with her all the time when he really didn't even swing that way.

"Good evening, m'lady," He said with a goofy, lopsided grin, earning a scowl over the top of a home-deco magazine, "Quite the swell night it is," He didn't linger long, pressing the call button for the elevator and stepping inside. He tapped '6' and waited, his spirits high, excited for tomorrow. He liked getting ready for parties. He liked the decorations he always put up, the arrangement of the snacks that he put too much thought into, and the anticipation of being the host because that always meant most eyes were on him. Up up up the elevator went, and let out a happy little ding as the doors peeled back open and he went right to his door. Richie pulled out his keys, jamming them into the doorknob and pushing the door open to reveal the space inside. "Honey, I'm home!" He called out the words, arms out at his side in a motion of grandeur. Of course, there was no response, and he kicked the door shut with his heel. Richie tossed his keys onto the little table by the door, toeing off each shoe in turn and leaving them discarded in the middle of the entryway.

"Hey there, babes," His first stop was the fish tank on the kitchen counter, packed with swimming little neon tetra and angelfish and Richie's prized bala shark he named Bella- creative, he knows- to sprinkle in some food. The little jar was just beside the aquarium, and he popped off the lid, shaking it above the open water and watching his little pals swim forth for their dinner. With his lasting grin, Richie let out a chuckle, his heart swelling at the sight of his aquatic children as he set the food back on the counter and took a step away. His own stomach let out a growl, and he realized for the first time that he hasn't eaten since after his last class, way back at 3:00. Popping open his fridge, Richie scanned it's contents- yep, he really needed to go get food tomorrow. There was next to nothing. He settled half-reluctantly on some month-old instant ramen and cooked it up with ease. Richie hadn't had instant ramen in ages, but there was a good amount of nostalgia contained within the simple dish. It had carried him through high school one plastic cup at a time, helping him fight through long nights of studying and even a nasty breakup.

The microwave let out three beeps, calling out 'Hey! I'm done, come eat me!' with each and every one. Richie ate it as he hastily cleaned up the kitchen, throwing dishes in the dishwasher and even taking the time to watch a casserole dish by hand, putting on his playlist but keeping the speakers on a low volume for the sake of his neighbors. No more than 15 minutes passed and then he was done, finally allowing himself to do what he's been anticipating all day. With a Pepsi in hand, he made the couch his home, curling up in a knitted blanket and tuning into 'Friends'. As he watched, one eye always on the TV, he snatched the black nail polish from it's spot on the coffee table and began to paint it over the chipped remnants of what was already there. At some point, after they'd dried, he ended up falling asleep on the sofa.

#Richie Tozier #Eddie Kaspbrak #reddie #it movie #it #it 2017 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it 2019 #gay clown movie #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #stan uris #stanley uris #stenbrough #benverly #reddie fanfiction

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watchtower-feed · 4 years

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Death Do We Part (Part 15)

SSA Spin-off ✧ Jason Todd ✧ Physical Link ✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧ 3 ✧ 4 ✧ 5 ✧ 6 ✧ 7 ✧ 8 ✧ 9 ✧ 10 ✧ 11 ✧ 12 ✧ 13 ✧ 14 ✧ 15 ✧ Words: 2,700+

You rest your head on your knees as you look at Tim. Your lips tremble as you watch him struggle with his thoughts.

He stares at his hands with narrowed eyes before you hear his broken voice.

“... I don’t know if I want to be Robin anymore.”

The morning dragged on agonizingly slow with Tim hiding in your room, Bruce nursing a drink in the kitchen, and Alfred sitting beside him. But when Bruce’s phone rang and the hospital told him that his son, Richard Grayson, was just admitted into Gotham General, everything sped past like a blur.

The city traffic buzzing through the car’s window. The loud reporters hounding you at the entrance. The doctor’s mouth moving in silence as he reads from a chart, explaining Dick’s condition. You were only picking up words like critical and surgery.

The first thing you became conscious of was Alfred’s hand on your shoulder. “Y/N. He’s going to be okay.” You didn’t even notice your tears until he was wiping them away.

It’s past midnight in the hospital room. Tim is sleeping on the couch. Alfred is in an extra bed. Bruce had just stepped out for coffee. And you’re still awake, curling up in the armchair closest to Dick. You’re holding his hand and looking at the fringes of his hair lying on his forehead. Slowly you loosen your grip to brush them back, but Dick’s fingers curl around yours.

You’re too busy staring at his hand when he opens his eyes.

“Hi…”

You cover your mouth to trap the sob that’s lodged in your throat. “Dick--”

He smiles. “H-hey hey. I’m okay.” He sounds exhausted but he still tries to laugh. “It’s just-- what? Like broken ribs again?”

You frown at him, “One punctured your spleen, Dick. They had to stitch it up during surgery.”

Dick chuckles, “Another one? Man. I swear I get one every other month. I probably passed out on Jason.”

“You were with Jason?” your voice hitched a little but you lower it right away and check on Alfred and Tim.

“Oh yeah… we had a nice little chat…” Dick’s looking at you now while frowning. “So… you’re leaving.”

You pause and then look down when you answer, “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from Jason since yesterday morning.”

Dick raises one eyebrow and teases you, “The morning after?”

“Shut up,” you snap at him in a whisper, making him snicker quietly. You blush but you can’t help give a small laugh as well.

Dick smiles at you.

“He told me you were leaving and I was hoping to charm the two of you into staying.” He gives you a look, one that’s both sad and disappointed. “But I don’t really think that’s an option, huh.”

Dick squeezes your hand and your voice is a lot softer when you answer, “He killed the Joker, Dick. In front of Bruce.”

“Yeah. He told me.”

“And you almost died, too.”

Dick laughs, “Ye of little faith in me, Y/N. I had those guys--”

“But the bomb. That one was real--”

Dick shushes you. “Jason’s friends got me off the bridge before it went off. Guess you guys were too busy watching Jay and Bruce’s fight.”

Dick slumps back against the pillows and stares at the point where the ceiling and the wall meet. “I hate to say it but Jason thought of everything.”

Tim grumbles in his sleep and you both turn to him. Once the rise and fall of his chest becomes even, Dick speaks again.

“This must be hard on Tim, huh?”

Tim has been tossing and turning in his sleep. When he was in your room, he checked on his wound and was surprised to find that Jason had changed his bandages when he was unconscious.

You watched Tim’s surprised look slowly morph into one of anguish. He didn’t know how to believe that Jason and the Red Hood were one and the same. Or is he just a persona Jason created to do what he can’t do. To protect the hard truths he wanted Bruce to realize.

You close your eyes and slowly climb into the bed next to Dick. He makes room for you and you carefully curl up next to him.

“He told me he didn’t want to be Robin anymore,” you whisper.

Dick pats your head and hums to himself.

“If I was Jason and Tim-- I was them. I was Robin and I always thought… I always saw Bruce as more than just Batman. He was my dad and my friend. He was my protector.”

When Dick’s hand stops moving, you wrap your arms across his chest and hug him tightly. You can feel the even breaths he’s trying to maintain but failing.

“But after what Jason did--” you can hear him clenching his teeth as he speaks, “After realizing that Bruce will always be Batman--to everyone-- more than anything else in the world… it shatters something in you, like you’re not special...”

Before your life turned into this living tragedy, you always thought Batman was just a myth. You’ve seen him sure, leaping and gliding over rooftops from your window and from the streets, but you always knew he was just a man playing pretend. Maybe a police officer finally fed up with the red tapes and the joke that is the Gotham justice system.

You always thought Batman was just another Gothamite who just got sick of being battered and bruised.

“It doesn’t mean I agree with Jason, though.” Dick’s voice is a little lower. He’s giving you a long look with the same sad and disappointed expression. “His heart’s in the right place but Y/N, he’s the one who doesn’t understand.

“When Bruce first brought me in, my parents were murdered by this guy-- Tony Zucco-- just a typical low life mobster in Gotham you know-- no one like the Joker. But when I became Robin, Bruce’s greatest concern was whether I would seek vengeance against that guy.”

Dick’s gaze strays away from you. He’s looking somewhere past his feet, seeing something that’s not there.

“I had him, Y/N. I tied him up and suspended him over a ten-story building, half hoping he would die, or break every bone in his body from that height and live out the rest of his days as a vegetable.

“Then Batman came out of the shadows. He didn’t stop me. He didn’t talk to me-- he just put his hand on my shoulder the whole time, while I stood there and held this man’s lifeline in my hands.”

Dick closes his eyes and takes a deep breath but he doesn’t open them again. The skin at the corner of his eyes crease and there are folds in his brows. When he speaks again, it’s rushed and he sounds exhausted.

“In the end, I couldn’t do it. I dropped him from the third floor. He broke a few bones and that was it. It didn’t make me feel better. Killing him wouldn’t have brought my parents back-- it also wouldn’t prevent another family from ever being murdered…

“Jason thinks he can get rid of evil in the world by killing criminals but he can’t. Because everyone is nursing evil inside of them-- I have something evil inside me.”

Dick’s lips are quivering when he opens his eyes again.

“Batman is the only one that doesn’t because all he wants to do is protect... everyone.”

Bruce has heard enough. He’s been standing outside the hospital room with his hand on the handle when Dick started talking about avenging his parents. Desperately, he wants to go in there and join you and Dick. But the writing on your arm pushes him to visit the rooftop instead.

He steps out to meet Gotham’s foggy air and reaches the end of the ledge when he calls out, “Worried about Dick?” He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t hear Jason’s footsteps approaching him from the shadows, but he knows he’s there. “You should be. He’s here because of you.”

Jason stops abruptly and clenches his fist. “Wrong. He’s hurt because of your self-righteous courtesy toward the psychotic filth of Gotham.”

Bruce turns around. Jason doesn’t have his helmet or his mask. He’s wearing a black trench coat but Bruce can still see the Red Hood symbol peeking from his chest. Bruce lifts one corner of his lips. “How does it feel?”

To Jason it looks like a smirk on its ways to becoming a snarl. Any semblance of a smile on Bruce is unsettling.

Bruce faces him fully with his hands in his pants pockets. “Now that you’ve killed half of the inmates in Arkham, how does it make you feel?” He watches Jason and lowers his brows and his mouth turns into a straight line. “Like it’s not enough. Right? Like there’s still a few more loose ends-- and you just have to be sure.

“I know you went after Penguin and Dent after the club last night. I also know you’re still after Harley.” Bruce eyes his clothes.

Jason tips his head to the side and replies to Bruce with a small smile.

Bruce tries to control the urge to arrest Jason then and there. He tries to stop being Batman for just one second before he loses his son for good. He takes in a breath and releases it like a sigh. He takes out his hands to gesture to Jason.

“If I could give you one last piece of advice. As a father. As a friend. Ask yourself if this is the type of person you want Y/N’s soulmate to be. Do you want her to be with a murderer?”

Jason didn’t expect that. He was ready to have another go at Bruce, maybe their last showdown before he leaves town, but now he just feels insulted.

“Fuck you, Bruce. I just want her safe-- To do a better job than you did for me. Be better than you.”

Bruce shakes his head. “You can do that without taking another person’s life, Jason. Killing people will only put your lives in more danger.” He points to Jason’s chest. “And you-- the Red Hood-- are a testament to that.”

Jason looks down, the crimson symbol on his chest peeking at him from his loose coat. The Red Hood is supposed to be just a means to an end. A myth strong enough to withstand the Bat’s. A new player to hook in the Arkham villains. Not someone who’ll join their ranks.

Jason looks back to glare at Bruce.

“I didn’t come here for a lecture.”

The pause Jason gave didn’t go unnoticed to Bruce.

“I assume you’re here to see Y/N,” Bruce replies. “She’s talking to Dick. She hasn’t noticed your message yet.”

Bruce walks up to Jason and sizes him up. Jason watches as his demeanor changes. Bruce stands taller, his shoulders seem to go wider. Jason doesn’t need to see the cape to know who’s standing in front of him now.

“Leave Gotham before sunrise.”

Jason can see himself reflected in Batman’s eyes. He suddenly looks like a child. The kid sleeping on the streets of Gotham. Scavenging in the garbage just to get by. Stealing to survive.

Bruce sees his own reflection in Jason’s and it terrifies him. He relaxes his shoulders and leaves his eyes half-lidded. Slowly, he lifts his hand and places it on Jason’s shoulder.

“Take care of each other, son.”

Bruce takes back his hand and starts walking to the door but Jason slaps something against his chest. Bruce looks down and sees that it’s an envelope. He looks back at Jason but he’s looking away from him.

“Give it to Alfred… please.”

Bruce smiles. He gives Jason a small nod before he takes the letter and leaves the hospital rooftop.

When Jason hears the doors close shut behind him, he lets the panic settle in. He first feels its claws scratching at his throat on its way up to his mouth, prying it open, making him gasp for air. Jason jumps when the door slams open.

You see your soulmate standing on the rooftop.

“Jason?”

You run to him and wrap your arms around his shoulder, as far as you can reach. He bends down and you hold him tighter. “You’re okay!” you exclaim against his coat. “I passed Bruce on the way here and I thought--”

“Y/N.”

Jason’s voice is shaky. You pull away to take a look at him but he holds you tight against him. You feel it now, the way his lungs are expanding rapidly and his heart is beating hard against his chest. He’s gripping your clothes as he pulls your body closer to him, afraid to let go. Afraid you’ll let go.

“I want to stay…”

The Joker had killed him and it killed you. The League had planned on using you against Jason. Scarecrow poisoned you. But now they’re gone. Dead. The Joker. Scarecrow. Black Mask. Bane. Croc. Clayface. Penguin and Dent.

Jason killed them all.

“You told me to find a better life. Away from all of this, remember? And I wanted that.” Jason hides his face on your shoulder and you can feel his tears seeping through your shirt. “I wanted that for both of us. But how could I do that if we have so many enemies? How could I do that if they can come after us at any second?”

Battered and bruised.

Dick’s wrong. Jason doesn’t have evil inside of him. None of them do. Everyone is just broken. Cracked under the pressure of the city’s heavy fog and manipulated into playing a never ending game of survival.

You glare at the horizon of the drab cityscape. Yellow lights left on all night. Sirens blaring at every corner. Sewer stench wafting toward the roofs. If Gotham hasn’t broken you yet, it will tomorrow.

You hold on to Jason tightly.

“It’s okay, Jason. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not, Y/N. We can’t stay-- I can’t stay.”

“I know…”

You rub Jason’s back to soothe him.

“It’s not just the Joker,” you whisper. “Gotham did this to us. It’s taken something beautiful from us-- our link-- and used it to abuse us. It tore us apart and made us forget who we are.

“We can’t stay here. We need to leave Gotham not because we’re not welcome. But because we need to heal, Jason.”

Slowly, you pull away from Jason to take off his coat. He watches as you unzip his kevlar vest and lets you take it off of him.

You stare at the symbol in your hands and silently thank it. Then you drop it on the floor. Jason is too stunned to stop you when you reach for one of his guns inside his coat. You fire two shots into the vest.

This is something you feel you need to do. Jason got to kill the Joker, the phantom menace that has haunted your dreams and waking moments. You only get this. The barrel is still smoking when you return it to him.

You pick up the vest and walk to the ledge of the roof. You pull back to gather as much momentum as you can and throw the vest out and down into the busy streets. You watch the Red Hood fall to its death until you can’t see it anymore.

Jason holds your hand and you turn to face him. He watches the look on your face, determined and unmoving. As if you hold all the cards and you know exactly where to go. He’s never seen such an expression on you.

He squeezes your hand

“I’ll go anywhere with you, Y/N.”

Just before the sun rises over, you’re already on a bus heading West, far enough away that even Wayne tower’s shadow can’t reach you. You pat the bag on your lap that has some clothes and your new identities.

As the bus crosses the bridge, Jason is watching the subtle pink and orange light peeking over the ocean that meets Gotham harbor. It’s a rare sight and one you’ll both miss. He turns to you.

“Hey,” Jason calls. “Look at your arm.” He takes out a pen. You watch as Jason writes on his arm and finally finishes his last words to you.

I love you.

END.

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