#but also the AO3 booth people were so fucking kick ass

[pollinatedpansy]

Not to out myself in multiple ways but I got to meet some of the kick as people at the @ao3org booth at fan expo and they had a "take a fic leave a fic l" recommendations board and I put down "A designer dress from heaven and your dirty wedding ring" by the lovely @halfmoth-halfman

#its currently my fav story #absolutely adore it #leaves me in horrible fucking suspense every time #ily btw author #hopefully more popele read it!! #designer dress is fucking amazing #but also the AO3 booth people were so fucking kick ass #told them meeting them all was better than any of the celeb guests #genuinely meant it #also met another person dressed in my little specific fandom fit and nearly cried of happiness #overall feet hurt but pain is temporary for that much joy in one day

[carry-the-sky]

Kastle + 2 for the touch writing prompts 💕

based on the prompt: a touch with relief

also on ao3

shout out to @onebatch2batch and @ninzied 💕

.

She’s late.

Frank’s eyes dart to his phone. Screen’s dark, same as it was when he glanced at it a minute ago. No missed calls, no texts. He swigs his coffee, more to swallow down the muted panic in his throat than anything else.

“Fresh cup for your friend, honey?”

Frank looks up. The waitress—Jo, her name tag reads—is nodding at the mug of coffee he ordered for Karen when he got here.

His eyes linger on it a moment before he shakes his head. “I’m good, ma’am. She’s, uh—she’s on her way.”

Frank must look as keyed-up as he feels, because Jo offers him a gentle smile. “You got it,” she says. “Just holler when she gets here, okay?”

Then she’s walking off. Probably assumes he got stood up by a date, and hell—he almost wishes that’s what this was. At least he could shrug that off, carry on with his day instead of sitting across from an empty booth, chest slowly going tight with dread.

Frank pushes back from the table, forces himself to breathe. Maybe something came up at work—a deadline got pushed up or a source backed out last-minute and Ellison’s got her holed up at the office doing damage control—

His hand twitches for his phone. They’ve been meeting for lunch pretty regularly for the past month or so, but Karen always shoots him a text the day before to confirm. He scans her last message in their thread—Tomorrow still good? Same place as last week?—and something in his chest twinges. Maybe it’s an occupational hazard, or maybe it’s just her way of making sure he won’t bail—either way, Frank can’t blame her. He’s far from atoning for the way he left things that day at the hospital. It’s a small miracle she let him back into her life at all.

Frank’s eyes flick to the time at the top of the screen. It’s going on twenty past the hour. Hell with it—maybe he’s being paranoid, but his gut says something’s off. He hits the call button next to her name.

It goes straight to voicemail.

His pulse stutters. It doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean—

He tries her again.

Hi, you’ve reached Karen Page. Please leave your name and number and I’ll get back—

Shit. Frank swipes over to his contacts, scrolls until he finds the number for the Bulletin’s front desk.

“New York Bulletin,” a cheerful voice answers on the second ring. “How may I direct your call?”

“Is Karen Page in?” he asks, straining to keep his voice steady.

He knows what the answer will be, but it still lands like a gut-punch when the receptionist tells him that Ms. Page is currently out of the office. His hand is shaking when he hangs up.

Jo is making the rounds again, and Frank doesn’t miss the sympathetic glance she shoots in his direction. He takes a deep breath through his nose, slow and steady to counter the hammer of his heart. He needs to focus, think.

Hanging around her office is a non-starter—he’s let his beard grow out, but his face has been plastered across the front page enough times that the damn receptionist would probably recognize him now. He could try Karen’s place on the off chance she ran home—

Frank’s fingers twitch against his phone. He should get up, move, do something other than sit here with this familiar tension cranking up his sternum. One thought spins on a turntable in his head—something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. He let his guard down, let himself breathe for one goddamn second, and now—if something happened to her—

The world narrows, tilts like a kaleidoscope. He needs air.

He’s dimly aware of standing, tossing a few bills on the table before he’s out the door. The street is thick with noise—people laying on their horns, distant sirens, someone shouting. He focuses on each individual sound, anchors his breath to the steady thrum of the city around him.

He’s not sure how long he stands there—a few minutes, maybe. Long enough for his vision to stop swimming, for the pounding in his ears to subside. Long enough to register his phone, buzzing in his hand.

Her number’s flashing across the screen.

Frank fumbles to answer, almost dropping his phone in the process. “Karen, hey—”

“Frank,” she replies, and relief floods his veins at the sound of her voice. “I’m so sorry—my phone decided to automatically update right as I was leaving for lunch, and then when you didn’t show—I was getting worried.”

He frowns, trying to process her words. “Where—where are you?”

“Sal’s. Why, didn’t you—” she pauses. “Wait, did you go to Cinco’s?”

Frank turns her text from last night over in his head. Same place as last week. They definitely grabbed lunch at Cinco’s—he’d ordered extra steak fries with his burger, just to let her swipe a few from his plate—but, shit, that’s right—they’d swung by a new place afterwards for dessert, some local café that had just opened.

We should try this place for lunch sometime, Karen had said in between bites of her raspberry scone. Frank remembers the dusting of sugar across her upper lip, remembers the small heart attack it gave him when she’d licked it clean.

“Think there might’ve been a misunderstanding,” he tells her now, cheeks warm. Karen just laughs in response as it all clicks together, and Frank lets the sound wash over him, the warmth of it dissolving the tension in his chest. She’s laughing. She’s okay.

“Lesson learned,” she says. “Be more specific. And make sure the phone isn’t going to update.”

“Wouldn’t be a problem if you had one like mine.”

“Not a chance. There’s old-fashioned, and then there’s prehistoric.” There’s a beat of silence, and he knows she’s smiling on the other end of the line. “Listen, I have to head back early today, but are you free for lunch tomorrow? I owe you some fries from Cinco’s, at the very least.”

“Works for me,” Frank says. “Sure you don’t wanna write that down, just to be safe? That’s C-I-N—”

“Shut up, Frank.”

It’s his turn to grin. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” she echoes.

He stays on the line until she hangs up, weightless with relief even as his blood still hums with adrenaline. It was just a miscommunication—but when his eyes squeeze shut, he’s right back in that hotel watching Lewis drag her into the elevator, praying to whoever the fuck was listening that she’d still be breathing when he got to her.

He knew, even then, what it would mean to lose her. Lose her without her ever knowing—

Make it mean something.

About damn time he did.

.

Karen’s waiting for him when he gets there the next day, sitting in the same booth he was. Her eyes snap to him as he pushes through the front door, and then she’s standing, and somehow before he’s fully aware it’s happening, he’s pulling her close, burying his face in the slope of her neck, breathing her in.

She’s warm. Her arms cinch around his shoulders, drawing him in even closer, and he smells something floral, soft and clean when her hair brushes his cheek. They stay like that a moment, holding onto each other—then she gently pulls back, and the loss of contact aches like a bruise. As he slides into the booth across from her, it’s all he can do to keep from reaching for her again.

Jo comes by with coffee, gives Frank a wink that could be seen from outer space as she slides Karen a mug. When he ducks a glance at Karen, she’s pressing her lips together like she’s trying not to smile.

“How long were you sitting here yesterday?” she asks.

Frank grips his own mug tightly to keep his fingers from shaking. “Not long. Felt like—longer than it was.”

He tries to keep his voice light, but he never did have a very good poker face. And they don’t do that. They don’t lie to each other.

When he looks again, Karen’s face has softened. She reaches across the table, rests a hand against his forearm. “Frank—”

He recognizes her tone of voice, knows she’s about to apologize for something that’s not her fault. After all his bullshit, everything he’s put her through—she’s still the one telling him she’s sorry. She’s still all heart. The ache in his chest digs its roots in, blooms until he can hardly breathe.

“Hey.” He tilts his head to catch her gaze, holds it. “I’m good. Yeah? Might chuck your phone in the Hudson first chance I get, but—”

He’s hoping the jab will pull a smile from her, and it almost does. Her mouth crinkles at the corners. “Still,” she says. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

He just looks at her—eyes bright and blue and open, and shit, he’s gonna kick himself for the rest of his life for taking his sweet time telling her exactly what she means to him. He slowly turns his arm until his hand grazes her wrist, her palm, and then he’s threading his fingers through hers.

“I’m always gonna worry, Karen. I know you can handle yourself, that’s not what—” he cuts off as she gives his hand a gentle squeeze, swallows thickly before saying— “You’re the most important person in my life. You’re everything. I’m never gonna not worry.”

Now she’s smiling, mouth curved like a moon as she looks down at his hand in hers. “You mean that, Frank?”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get off my ass about it, but—this thing, Karen, you and me—if you’re in, I’m in. I’m all in.”

He’s not sure it’s happening until it’s happening—one second Karen’s leaning across the booth, the next her lips are on his.

He barely has time to process the softness of her mouth, the warmth of her hand cupping his jaw, before she’s sitting back, looking as stunned as he feels.

“I take it back,” he says, a little hoarse. “What I said about your phone. Damn thing should update every day.”

Karen just laughs, and they both lean in again.

#kastle #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #kastle fic #my fic

[let-it-raines]

I Hope We Never See October (3/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Not gonna lie, I forget I'm writing this story, remember, and then the moment I sit down to write, I get called away. But here's part three!

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: One | Two | Three

-/-

His head is pounding. It’s been awhile since it has pounded like this. Usually, it’s from a lack of sleep from the nightmares or the stress. This morning, he knows it’s from the rum. He did everything he could to cancel it out – coffee, water, food, medicine – but his head is still pounding. He is a bloody lightweight now.

Huh.

Killian is making it sound like that’s a bad thing, when really, it’s good. A week ago he was standing with a beer bottle in his hand early in the morning tempted to drown his entire day away. Last night, he made it the entire day without wanting to get pissed and only had two small drinks to toast his friends goodbye.

That’s progress.

This hangover, though, damn. It’s a sign he’s making progress, but damn.

Or he’s simply getting old, which is something else he doesn’t want to think about.

“Fuck,” Killian moans, pressing his fingers against his temples as he opens his eyes. His neck is also killing him, probably from how he slept on this damn couch all night. He should have driven home, but he didn’t trust himself to. Besides, Ariel had offered the couch before she went to bed.

Emma had too.

He’d nearly left after she offered. She was likely only doing it because she assumed Ariel or Eric already offered. He gets the feeling the woman doesn’t like him, which usually isn’t something that happens with him, and that intrigues him. It also makes him realize how much of an asshole he is.

How has he gotten to a point in his life where he expects women to always fancy his company?

Killian sits up, his muscles aching, and slowly, he rises from the couch. The lights in the house are all off, and he knows he can leave now with no one knowing the wiser that he slept over, that he felt bad enough to not be able to drive home. Or maybe that he didn’t want to spend another night in that giant house by himself.

The floor creaks beneath him with each step he takes, but no one seems to stir. Killian finds a notepad and pen in the kitchen and quickly scribbles a note to Ariel and Eric. He said his goodbyes to them last night, and he’ll talk to them on the phone at some point today. He doesn’t need to stick around to say another goodbye this morning. It’s still early enough that the sun hasn’t risen, and they won’t be up for hours. Killian finishes his note, grabs his wallet and keys from the counter, and heads out the front door to his car. It takes him a moment to find his car, to remember what said of the road they drive on over here, but he eventually spots it across the street under a large tree when a light from the house turns on.

Killian turns to see it’s coming from an upstairs window, and Emma Swan is standing between the curtains. He nods, and he swears he sees the slightest nod in return before the curtains rustle and she turns off the light.

She didn’t get in until two this morning, and she’s up at six. How the hell is she functioning?

Then again, how is he functioning?

Killian’s phone buzzes in his pocket, and after he gets in his Jeep, he checks the message.

Elsa Jones: The girls say thank you for their new Leggo set. My bare feet do not.

Killian laughs and puts his phone back in his pocket. That’s how he’s functioning. He may have flown across an ocean, but he’d never leave Ally and Sophia. They’ve already lost enough, and Liam will have his head, someway and somehow, if he doesn’t do everything he can to make sure all his girls are happy.

To make sure Killian is happy too.

“Bloody hell,” Killian whispers to himself as he cranks the engine, “it’s too early to be thinking like this.”

He should be able to have at least a little reprieve from the voices in his head.

-/-

Killian doesn’t leave the house much over the next few days. He doesn’t have reason to. He’s got everything he could possibly need in the house, including his own private stretch of beach that he walks along a few times a day, but the repetition of nothing begins to drive him mad. He trains in almost the same way as he did when he was playing, and while that takes up a good portion of his day, it’s not enough to keep him occupied. He reads the books that the owners of the house left behind but finds it’s mostly romance novels he can’t stomach. For a day or two, he binges Netflix, leaving a permanent imprint of his ass in the couch cushions, but there’s only so much time he can spend staring at screens.

Elsa and the girls call more than once a day with them being on summer holidays, and he gets a call or two from Scarlet, who finally had the bullocks to ask Belle out to dinner. That was good to hear since Killian has been giving Will shit about doing that for years now, and it’s good to see that people are moving on with their lives.

He’s not, not really, but he’s not trying to move on so much as he’s trying to not be a total disaster every day.

Sitting in this house alone all day every day isn’t helping. Why did anyone think sending him to be alone would be a good idea in the wake of his brother’s death? He knows it’s more so the scum English tabloids would leave him alone and he could fix his public image so he doesn’t go broke before he’s forty from loss of sponsorships and possible opportunities to get involved in the league, but damn, this was a bad idea.

At least he’s not drinking himself to sleep anymore.

Or drinking himself awake. He thinks that feat is slightly more impressive.

Killian puts his bottle of water down and opens the door that leads to the deck. It’s cool out today, the sun hidden behind the clouds, and since he cannot stay here anymore, he decides he’ll go for a run. It’s been years since he ran outside and not on a pitch or a treadmill, but maybe it’ll be a good distraction. He’s noticed more people filling into the houses around him, the summer tourists showing up in large droves now, so at the very least he can pass time watching people while hoping no one watches him.

It takes him little time to get dressed, lace up his trainers, and pop headphones in his ears before he’s out the door. The roads aren’t flat around his house, so he drives the Jeep a few miles until he finds smoother, less crowded ground. Maybe it’s a way to keep him from running that little bit longer, but mostly he knows his knees need the flat surfaces right now.

He really has gotten old, hasn’t he?

Eventually, he finds what looks like a good path behind a long stretch of beach, finds a place to park, and then he starts running.

It’s horrible, which was expected, but he does it anyway. There are families lining the beaches, music playing from speakers and phones, and he watches as boats skip out on the water. Maybe he should rent a boat for a weekend and take it out. It’d be nice to be out on the water again. He hasn’t been since Liam’s death, the fear of something similar happening to him despite the unlikeliness, but maybe one day while he’s here. It’s not as if he has anything better to do.

Killian runs until the endorphins kick in and then again until his legs get tired. He’s an idiot, however, because he doesn’t think to turn around to his Jeep.

Bloody hell.

He stops and reaches his hands over his head, stretching out his shoulders, and looks to see what’s around him. It’s mostly beach, but there are several restaurants and shops a few blocks down. He notices the familiar Blue Dog Tavern sign and the long deck filled with their outside seating. That means he’s minutes away from a populated area of shops and restaurants where he could cool down and catch his breath, but he still walks toward the Blue Dog. There’s another diner around here he went to that was horrible, and he doesn’t feel like taking the chance again. He’s still over his phase of twenty-four-hour diners. He doesn’t think he can handle more sticky tables.

Killian cools down on the walk to the restaurant, taking in the people walking along the sidewalk, and he dodges them until he’s inside and the cool air is hitting against his skin. It’s past the prime of the lunch rush, so the place is mostly empty. He thinks of going to the bar again, but as he wants to stay as out of the way as possible, he asks the hostess to seat him at a booth in the corner.

“Is someone coming to meet you?” she asks, smacking her gum as she hands him a menu.

“I’m afraid not. Just me today.”

She smiles, popping her gum again, and leans forward, casually popping a button on her shirt. Killian tries not to snicker at the obvious attempt, mostly because she is attractive, but the last thing he needs is to burn more bridges at one of the few places in towns he likes. “Well, if you want company, all you have to do is come find me. I’m Marina.”

He raises his brow. “Seems like you were born to work by the ocean then.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because your name is Marina.”

She cocks her head to the side and laughs. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, love.” Killian smiles and nods toward the front. “I believe you’re needed.”

She jumps and walks away, obviously putting a little sway in her hips when she moves, and in another life, he’d ask her to join him for lunch and meet her after her shift. He nearly does it now, but the man he’s been and the man he’s trying to be war with each other in his mind.

No burning bridges, he reminds himself. He’s done enough of that in his lifetime.

He orders water and coffee and avoids eye contact with Marina as much as possible, especially when she keeps finding ways to come by his table despite there being no other customers in his section. He texts Will and Rob, sends Elsa some pictures of the beach to show the girls, responds to Ariel about him doing another video conference with a hospital back home, and then he puts his phone away and tries to focus on his meal.

Unsurprisingly, it does not take a hell of a lot of focus to eat a sandwich and chips.

The music coming over the intercoms keeps him occupied for awhile, so does the television hanging over the bar until someone changes it to ESPN, and eventually Killian starts fidgeting for headphones and something to do while he waits for his meal to settle and drinks another cup of coffee. He needs to start the trek back to his Jeep, but that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“Heather, I get that you don’t want to be here, but your uncle and your parents want you here. And you either need to take it up with them or start doing some actual work.”

Killian recognizes that voice, and he sinks in his booth. He was hoping to get away with not running into her here today, if only to save himself the headache. He doesn’t have any paper money on hand, so he can’t pay and leave, and he imagines there’s very little chance he’ll avoid her when she’s walking right toward him with Heather, his server from last week.

She’s in those bloody jean shorts again. They barely cover anything and hug her ass to show it off, and the blouse she’s wearing is fitted to her skin. Her hair is down, hitting past midway on her back, and she looks just as gorgeous as she has every other time he’s seen her…which is exactly why he needs her to not notice him.

So, of course, she does.

Right after she teaches Heather how to clean the tables, she looks up and over at Killian, raises both brows, and walks toward him with her arms crossed beneath her chest. “Anything I can help you with today?”

“The check may be nice, Swan. Lovely to see you again.”

“Uh-huh.” She looks over her shoulder, holds up a signal toward Killian’s server, and he hustles to the back, presumably to get the check. “I can recommend other restaurants in the area. This place is great, but I promise there are better ones.”

He shrugs. “I like the food and how calm it is during off hours. Are you enjoying your house with no Fishers in it?”

“I don’t mind when they come to stay.”

It’s a lie if he’s ever heard one. Killian points to his temple and taps. “I know this may surprise you, but I’m actually quite perceptive.”

Her smile is tight, and she tucks her hair behind her ears. “The Fishers are great landlords, and I can’t complain.”

“I’m not going to tell them what you’re saying, love.”

She smiles again, and he can tell she’s still faking it for him. “All I can say is I’m glad not to have strange men scaring me in my kitchen at two in the morning. Now they simply show up at my work.”

He lifts his glass. “It’s good food, and you’re right, I don’t know of many other reliable eateries around here. Some of them seem a little too…made for tourists.”

“And the Blue Dog Tavern doesn’t? I mean, come on. We have a giant blue animated dog cutout outside. We’re on all those lists of ‘Places in Martha’s Vineyard you have to visit.’ We’re made for tourists like you.”

“I am not a tourist.”

“Says the man who is renting one of the big houses out in Edgartown and staying here for the summer. I’m guessing you go to the beach and lounge around the pool and go through way too many of the bad books the owners of the house have on their shelves.”

Killian huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back in the booth. That was a little too spot on. “How do you know where I’m staying? Wait, no. Ariel, right?”

“Yeah,” Emma smiles, and God, it feels like a hell of an accomplishment to get her to smile. “She went on and on about the great Killian Jones.”

“Ah, so you know who I am then?” He leans forward and waggles his brows, flashing his brightest smile.

“Yeah, a rich British tourist who is friends with my landlords.” Someone calls her name from across the restaurant, and Emma holds one finger up. “Your check will be with you soon. I’ll ask Marina to give you some other restaurant recommendations on your way out. You’ll get sick of this place soon enough.”

“I’m perfectly happy with it, Swan.”

She shrugs and walks away, and Killian chuckles to himself. He doesn’t understand this woman at all, but she intrigues him.

He knows that’s a dangerous game to play.

Killian gets the check, pays it, and before he can escape, Marina corners him to give him more recommendations. She ends up veering into bars and clubs on the island and the surrounding towns, asking him if he wants her to show him around, but he declines and takes the list of places. Maybe he’ll check them out, but the last thing he needs is to go to a club. A bar, maybe, but not a club. He’s learned that there’s a hell of a difference.

He’s also learned that he’s bored to tears in this place, and no amount of calls to Ariel and Elsa can solve that boredom. He finds himself googling pre-season training information, checking up on mates and rivals, and while that’s a bit of a slip-up, he does manage to still stay away from looking himself up. He never used to have the urge to google himself or to read any of the tabloids, but ever since his retirement, he’s been curious. Were people sad? Happy? Did he leave any kind of lasting impact? Or did they all just see him as the drunk, washed up old man with a dirtied past?

That is a path he absolutely cannot go down, and since he’s already run a half marathon today, he decides to shower and get dressed to go to one of the places Marina recommended. If his time alone doesn’t start to get less depressing, he thinks he’s going to have to fly back to London and bother Elsa and the girls until they kick him out. He’ll pay for the remaining time on the house, but he won’t be staying there.

While the sun sets, Killian drives down new roads on the island, going to different towns and neighborhoods to see what others are doing, before ending up at a bar near his house. Marina said it was a spot for locals with good food and a quiet energy, so he doubts Marina has ever stepped foot into it. Killian pushes open the old oak door, and the lights inside are dimmed, the music quiet. There’s a guy playing guitar in the corner hidden between two pillars, and Killian finds himself sitting at the opposite end of the bar on a stool that’s cushion squeaks when he sits down.

Charming.

“You eating, drinking, or both?” The bartender asks, wiping his hands off with a cloth.

“Eating. Have any recommendations?”

“You have an objection to seafood?” the old man asks.

“Not a one.”

“Good. I’ll fix you up with the daily catch.”

Killian nods as the man makes his way through a door behind the bar, and then Killian swivels on his stool, looking around the place. He doesn’t know about the food yet, but Marina was right. It definitely has a quiet energy to it. There are people in nearly every booth and at every table, but there’s a hushed tone except for a laugh in the booth nearest him. His eyes are drawn there, and to both his surprise and horror, he finds Emma Swan with her head tilted back with laughter.

Fuck.

She’s definitely going to think he’s stalking her, and as hungry and bored as he is, he’s still tempted to leave. So of course, that’s when Emma stops laughing and looks directly at him.

Bollocks. Utter bollocks.

She blinks and stares at him a little longer, her brows raising before falling, and then she turns back to whoever is sitting in the booth with her. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see her arms moving, but he turns on the stool until he can see her no longer, wishing at the very least he had a water to nurse.

“Hiya. Come sit in our booth with us.”

Killian twists and looks at the brunette who’s now sitting next to him. “Pardon?”

She sticks out her hand, and he takes it, shaking it. “Ruby Lucas. You’re Killian Jones, the – ”

“There’s no need to – ”

“ – the guy who scared Emma half to death at her house in the middle of the night,” Ruby completes, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. “And I must say, you are much more attractive than she described.”

“So she talked about me then?”

“In her own special Emma way.” Ruby tilts her head back toward their booth. “And in my own special Ruby way, I’m inviting you to eat dinner with us. It’s me, Emma, and this super wholesome woman named Mary Margaret who will take you home and bake you cookies while asking you about your childhood because she had a good one of those.”

Killian chuckles, cheeks still flushed from him thinking Ruby knew who he was earlier – he is a pompous, entitled ass obviously – and from being invited to their table. “I couldn’t intrude.”

“I insist that you do.”

He likes her, he decides. She’s stunning and funny with no filter, but she reminds him too much of a dirtier version of Anna. It’s a rather peculiar comparison, but it’s true. It’s also half the reason he agrees to switch tables, rising from his stool and walking toward the booth. The other half a reason is the blonde woman with her face pressed into her forearms against the table top.

She looks beyond thrilled for him to be joining them.

“Oh, Emma, you were right, he is handsome!”

Emma bangs her head into the table as who he presumes is Mary Margaret smiles at him from across the booth. Killian slides onto the seat and elbows Emma’s side before patting her shoulder. “It’s alright, darling. I told all my mates you were beautiful, so we’re even.”

“Go to hell.”

He laughs, grinning at her, and slowly, she peels herself off the table. “Just so you know, I’m only here because Marina recommended it.”

“Remind me to fire her in the morning.”

“So,” Mary Margaret interrupts, tucking her short hair behind her ear, “tell us about yourself, Killian. Where are you from? What do you do for work? How long are you planning on being here?”

“Good God, Marg,” Emma sighs, slumping down, “give the man some room to breathe.”

“What? I’m curious.”

“You’re nosy is what you are,” Emma corrects.

“Aren’t we all?” Killian shuffles in his seat, hoping they move on to another subject, but when Mary Margaret turns to him, he knows she isn’t one to forget. “So, how long are you staying?”

“I have the keys to the house I’m renting until the first of October, but I imagine I’ll leave sooner.”

“And why’s that?” she asks.

Killian shrugs as the man behind the bar drops off a glass of water at the table and tells Killian his food will be ready in ten minutes. “I’m afraid no matter how nice it is here, I don’t know many people. I miss the people I’m closest to. A man can only spend so much time alone.”

“Then why’d you book a house for so long?”

“I needed to get away.”

“Yeah, but – ”

“Marg,” Emma interrupts, placing her hand over her friend’s, “please. You don’t have to know everything about him. Not everyone wants to reveal their entire life to complete strangers.”

She’s right. He doesn’t. But for some inane reason, he doesn’t think he’d mind revealing most of his life to her.

He has obviously lost his damn mind.

But it’s nice to spend a night with other people, to be included in the conversation, and while Mary Margaret and Ruby are delightful, he finds Emma captures his attention, not that this surprises him.

What does surprise him, however, is how much friendlier she is in this environment. He knows it’s her friends and not him, and maybe the glass of wine she had with dinner, but it’s nice to see her laugh freely and blush when Ruby tells stories of Emma he cannot imagine knowing otherwise. He can’t imagine Emma ever scaling a building to break into an ex’s apartment to get her favorite sweater back, but then again, that seems exactly like something she would do if she wanted it badly enough.

He fancies her.

He has no business fancying her, none at all, but when he ends up driving all three women to their homes because Ruby and Mary Margaret had too much to drink and Emma can’t drive the stick shift in Ruby’s car, he accepts Emma’s invitation inside for a cup of coffee.

He also accepts her invitation upstairs into her bed.

To hell with the consequences and burning bridges. He’ll deal with those in the morning when he isn’t so enticed by the trail of freckles running down Emma’s bare stomach.

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @qualitycoffeethings @marrtinski @klynn-stormz @scarletslippers @elizabeethan @jrob64 @snowbellewells @therealstartraveller776 @thejollyroger-writer @galadriel26 @galaxyzxstark @idristardis @karenfrommisthaven @teamhook @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @jamif @shireness-says @ultimiflos @onepunintendid @bluewildcatfanatic @superchocovian @killianswannn @carpedzem @captainkillianswanjones @mayquita @mariakov81 @jennjenn615 @onceuponaprincessworld @a-faekindagirl @scientificapricot @xellewoods @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @singersdd @tornadoamy @cluttermind @lfh1226-linda @andiirivera @itsfabianadocarmo @captain-emmajones @ilovemesomekillianjones @taylrsversion​ @dramioneswan​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @wefoundloveunderthelight

#I hope we never see october #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fanfiction #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

The Love Cruise - by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1

Or on FF

Tagging: @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

Summary:

When Emma Swan’s boss & co-workers decided they are tired of waiting for her to start dating again, they reluctantly convince her to join them on The Love Cruise, a new experience where singles go to meet and flirt their cares away in the middle of the ocean. Dragging her brother, David along for the ride, she embarked on a two-week adventure that was about to change her life.

Killian Jones, former Navy Lieutenant and widower, swore off dating for the rest of his life. Which is why when his best friend Robin convinced him to take a job as the Captain of the newest ship in the fleet, a floating dating cesspool of horny men and women, it seemed a cruel twist of fate. Little did he know, one of the guests about to board his ship, would alter his own course in life forever.

Chapter 1: The Adventure of a Lifetime

“First he runs off and gets married and then he goes and gets himself a promotion. I guess you would say the world is his oyster.”

“Or he’s having his cake and eating it to.” The man at the back of the bar shouts.

“Aye, so today as we celebrate, I want everyone to raise your glass to our newest Lieutenant, and my little brother, Killian Jones. I’m so proud of you.”

“To Killian Jones.” The crowd roared.

 5 years later

“That’s not how I remember it at all, I’m pretty sure you were the one who walked in on them.”

“I would have remembered that.”

“I doubt that, you were drunk as a skunk and before you left the room, you yelled to the poor girl, and I quote, I'm no weatherman but I know you're going to get 3 inches tonight.”

“God, I thought you said that.”

“That was all you man, I thought the Captain was gonna throw you in the brig.”

“I’m pretty sure Liam saved my ass that night.” Killian laughed, remembering how many times his brother kept him out of trouble in his years in the Navy.

“I think Liam saved your ass most nights.”

“Aye.” He nodded sadly and Robin held up his glass.

“To Liam, gone too soon.”

“To Liam.” He swallowed the warm liquid, gulping it down and putting his glass back on the table in front of him. “I can’t believe it’s been two years.” He added solemnly, memories of his brother’s urn as he was released out to sea, being presented with the flag, the sound of each pop of the as the rifles went off, staring out to sea to the sound of the bugle.

“Sometimes it feels like yesterday.” Robin responded and Killian closed his eyes, pinched his nose, before shaking off the memories and waiving the waitress over for another order. “So, what’s your next move?”

Killian sighed. “I don’t know yet, I’ve got a few interviews this week.”

Robin cut him off, “Cancel them.”

“I’m sorry, you want me to cancel all my interviews?”

“Yes, cancel them, I have a great opportunity for both of us.”

“Working together?”

“Yes, I told you that I got a job last week, right? Well, they need a Captain and I put in a good word for you.” Killian knew he had gotten some amazing opportunity the last time they spoke on the phone, but he didn’t provide many details on what exactly that opportunity was.

“What’s the catch?” Killian regarded him suspiciously.

“Why does there have to be a catch?” He smiled innocently.

“Because you would have told me about it sooner unless you’ve been trying to figure out the best way to bring it up. And you conveniently chose a night when we have been drinking heavily, so that tells me there is a catch, Rob. So, spit it out.”

“Ok, so there’s a catch, but hear me out first.” Killian groaned but put his hand to his lips with a locking motion and gestured for him to continue. “She’s the newest ship in the fleet, top of the line technology, she would be any Captain’s wet dream to sail.” Killian chuckled, sitting up on his stool. “3600 passengers, 1300 crew members, including the best purser any ship could ask for.” He grinned widely pointing to himself.

“Get to the part where you tell me this ship sails to the Underworld and has an excursion to visit Hades himself or some other ungodly reason to explain why you waited til I was piss drunk to ask me.”

“Ok, but I haven’t even told you about the size of the Captain’s quarters yet…” Robin frowned as he shifted impatiently in his seat. “Alright, it’s the maiden voyage of…” He covered his mouth, “The wurv ruse.”

“I’m sorry what?”

“Fine, it’s a Love Cruise.” He shouted louder than he meant to. “One of those singles cruises where people go to meet each other.”

He tossed a brochure down onto the table and Killian flipped through it, his groan vibrating as he read the tag line out loud. “The Love Cruise, where singles meet on the adventure of a lifetime. Don’t you deserve a little TLC.” He tossed the brochure onto the table. “Oh, bloody hell.” He cursed. “Ma’am…” He gestured for the waitress. “I’m not fucking drunk enough to listen to this man anymore, if you could please bring a few more of those shots as quick as possible and make them doubles.” He added before turning back to Robin. “Are you out of your mind? What would give you the foggiest reason to think I would be interested in this?”

“It’s not like you would be signing up to be part of the singles cruise, you would just Captain her.”

“Why are you doing this?” He asked suspiciously. “You and Marian have been divorced for years and it’s not like you’re desperate for women.” His friend glanced to the table and Killian knew there was more he wasn’t telling him. “Out with it.”

“You know that woman I met last year?”

Killian chuckled, “How long do I have to answer, mate. You’re going to have to be more specific than that?”

“You’re hilarious. No, remember that entertainer I met when we took that cruise to Mexico last year, Regina Mills.”

“The lass we met who threw her drink in your face and told you to get lost? How can I forget, she’s given me months of pleasure just thinking about that moment.”

“Anyway, they hired her as the Cruise Director for this sailing, and it’s my opportunity to actually get to know her. You know because she won’t have anywhere else to go to continue avoiding me.”

“So, your selling point is that if I Captain this ship, I might get to see this woman destroy you on a daily basis?”

“Would it convince you to say yes?”

“I don’t know.”

“Killian it’s been three years. If you want to be celibate for the rest of your life, that’s your business, but you’d be an idiot to pass up this opportunity.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket and slid it across the table. On it was a six-figure dollar amount, Killian grabbed the paper and pulled it closer to his face.

“How many years is the contract for this amount?”

“That’s per year, Killian.”

“Bloody hell.”

“It’s a lot more than the Navy paid us, and no one is going to be trying to sink our ship.”

He pushed the paper back across the table to Robin. “I just don’t know if this is a good idea, I have responsibilities here.”

“Brother, Milah wouldn’t want you hiding out on that damn houseboat, rotting away in your own depression. She’d kick you in the ass and tell you that you were being a bloody prat for walking away from this kind of opportunity.”

“Don’t invoke my dead wife, Mate.” He said angrily. Robin raised his hands in defeat and Killian knew he meant no harm. He sighed and looked over at the paper again. It was more money than he had seen in his entire life, and it was a real ship. He’d been working as Skipper on a fishing skiff for the last year, and while he enjoyed the security of being out on the water, it sure didn’t pay much.

“You know there’s no rule that says the Captain has to date the passengers, in fact, I’m pretty sure they frown on that type of behavior?”

“I get that, but I don’t particularly want to watch all the debauchery either.”

“I told you the Captain’s quarters are huge, right?”

“And they know about my hand?” He looked down at his scarred hand, he had lost the full use of it on one of the worst nights of his life, the night he lost his brother.

“They don’t care, you are a skilled Captain, trust me, they are very interested in you, Killian. All you have to do is be at the interview tomorrow, and the job is yours.”

Killian groaned, “I’ll sleep on it.” Judging by the smile his friend was displaying on the other end of the table, he already knew that Killian was going to show up to that interview.

~*~

“Have you seen that guy before?” Ruby walked over to Emma’s spot by the front door.

Emma glanced to the end of the bar. She hadn’t noticed the man until Ruby pointed him out. He wasn’t familiar to her, he was very nice looking, but also very intoxicated. “Don’t recognize him, but Will needs to cut him off.”

“That’s what you’re focused on, instead of how hot he is or the fact he’s new in town?”

“He’s ok, I guess. But honestly, I’m going to go tell Will to stop serving him. I don’t want to have to throw him out later.”

“Boo, you’re so boring, Emma.”

Emma turned and flashed her friend the middle finger before approaching the bar. “Hey, brown suede jacket.” She pointed to the man at the end of the bar. “How many has he had?”

“Oi, I was thinking of cutting him off. He’s been nursing that beer for an hour, but the three shots he drank with them seem to have accelerated his inebriation.”

“Yeah, cut him off, he’s swaying in his seat, let me know if he gives you any trouble.”

Emma walked back toward the door, surveying the tables as she walked past. She’d been working at The Wooden Nickle since moving back to Boston from New York almost seven years ago. Working nights as a bouncer wasn’t the most prestigious job in the world, but it allowed her to spend her days with her 6-year-old son, Henry.

“Everything good down here?”

Emma turned to see her boss; August Booth walking down the stairs from the above office. “Yeah, got a live one at the bar, Will’s already cut him off. I had to break up the two over at the pool table a few times.” She gestured to the man and woman currently making out against the wall. “I’m gonna head back there in a minute, before they start losing clothes.”

“I can always count on you, Emma.” August gave her a light tap on the shoulder and then headed back upstairs. “Tell everyone I want to talk to them before we shut down tonight.”

“Everything alright, boss?” He nodded with a mischievous smile and then bounded up the stairs.

She loved working for August. When she moved back to Boston, she hadn’t maintained a relationship with anyone except her brother, David, and her high school friends, Ruby and Will. Moving to a small town meant her skills as a bail bond agent wasn’t exactly needed, but August found room for her as a bouncer at his tiny but very busy bar. He’d treated her like family ever since.

She passed through the room, pausing at the couple in the back, to break up their make out session and then stopped at the bar. “Aug wants to talk to all of us after we close up.”

“Oi, did he seem upset? Shit, I bet he knows I was nipping at the whiskey last week.”

“What are we talking about?” Ruby approached and sat down her tray on the bar top. “Are we drinking whiskey?”

Emma laughed. “Aug wants to talk to all of us tonight, so I would probably say no, right?”

“That was a question, not a demand, so I say one shot can’t hurt us. If we’re all about to be canned, I want to take the news with some liquid courage.”

“You’ll use any excuse to drink whiskey.” Ruby mocked as he lined up the shots and poured. They each tossed back the glass and slammed it down on the bar.

“Ok get back to work.” She demanded with a smirk and headed back to the door to prepare for the close of shift. It was her favorite part of work, watching as the patrons exited the bar, some joyfully laughing, others grumbling with complaints of the upcoming next day, but mostly it was the time when they were alone, simply cleaning the bar and laughing together that she cherished the most. This was her family, and she loved them dearly.

“All clear.” She hollered an hour later as she finished helping the tipsy customer to a cab and reminded the overly zealous couple to remember condoms.

Ruby turned up the volume on the music and they spent the next hour cleaning the bar, Ruby dancing with her broomstick, Will singing loudly into the beer tap, and Emma watching them all with a smile as she wiped down the tables. She could hardly believe how much her life had changed in the last seven years. Ruby referred to these last few years as the years AN.

After Neal.

She had been devastated when Neal took off, draining their savings account of the money she had earned, leaving her alone and pregnant in New York City. Two months later, she came home with her tail between her legs, everything she owned in her tiny yellow beetle, and was left to explain to her brother David, that things with her and Neal had gone exactly how he had predicted they would.

She had been mortified to venture out of the home she shared with David for fear of judgement from their small town. Instead, she was embraced by old friends who came out of the woodwork to donate baby clothes, feed her, and offer emotional support.

“When did I start paying you lot to have a good time?” August boomed from across the room before breaking out into a smile and pulling Emma into his arms to dance across the room. He spun her around as they reached Ruby, switching to dance with the brunette until the song ended.

“The place looks great as usual.” He remarked to the three of them as he hopped onto one of the bar stools. “Come on, lets all chat.” Will gulped and August laughed. “This isn’t about the whiskey, Will.”

“What whiskey?” Will mimed. “I haven’t the foggiest idea…”

“I’m closing the bar.” Emma’s heart dropped. August sat solemnly looking down at his hands. He looked up peering around the room as a smile grew on his mouth. “For two weeks,” he added, “and before you all freak out on me, I’m still paying you.”

Emma breathed out a sigh of relief. Losing two weeks of pay would have killed her. She lived paycheck to paycheck trying to raise her son, missing a single day was enough to give her anxiety.

“On one condition.” He added and everyone in the group exchanged cautious glances. “We’ve all been working really hard and I wouldn’t have any of this if you all didn’t come to work every single day, even with William drinking my whiskey.” Will ducked his head. “However as much as I love you guys, I’m really tired of being alone.”

Emma was surprised to hear how sad August’s voice sounded; she knew he had been alone at home after his father Marco had passed. Emma had never heard of August going on any dates, or ever being involved with anyone romantically. But Emma wasn’t one to talk about putting yourself out there, she hadn’t dated or wanted to date anyone since Neal ran out on her.

“And let’s be honest,” August continued, “you lot don’t get out much either.”

“Hey, I’m just waiting until Ana comes around.” Will argued and she snorted to herself. Ana was Will’s ex-girlfriend. She had packed up and left town a year ago, leaving only a note stating it was over and she was moving to England with a guy she met online. Everyone knew it was over, except for Will. He still had his Facebook relationship status as “It’s complicated.”

“She’s gone man, it’s time to move on.” August said seriously. “And Ruby, I mean no offense when I say this, but you’ve practically dated everyone in town, present company excluded.”

“Speak for yourself, we went on a date once.” Will announced.

“That was a field trip you idiot, and the rest of the school was with us.”

“Ok but my point is, no one in town has been worthy of your affection.” August interrupted and then turned to her, “And Emma.”

“Don’t even go there, I have a six-year-old kid, I don’t have time for another child in my life.”

“Well, here it is, I’m going on a cruise for two weeks. And I’m willing to pay you each your two-week salary, as long as you come with me.”

“Oi, do you think you pay us enough money to afford to go on some fancy cruise ship?”

“Nope, that’s why I’m paying for that too.” He stared at Emma. “But it has to be all or nothing. Either you all come, or you all get a two-week unpaid vacation.”

“That’s hardly fair.” Emma complained. “I can’t just walk away for two weeks, Henry needs me.”

“First off, I already know that he’s about to head to summer camp for four weeks, so your excuse doesn’t exactly work.” Emma crossed her arms against her chest, she hadn’t expected him to know about that. “Ok, one excuse down, who’s next?”

“You aren’t going to get one from me. If you want to pay me to go on a cruise, I’m down.” Ruby hopped up on the bar.

“What’s the catch, Mate? Two weeks pay, a cruise vacation, something’s not adding up here.” Emma had to agree with Will, he wasn’t telling them the entire truth.

“Fine, it’s a singles cruise.”

“No way, I’m out.” Emma grunted, as she furiously wiped down the table in front of her for the second time that evening.

“Oh, come on Emma, who cares? There is nothing that says you have to hook up with anyone there.” Ruby pleaded, “I really want to try out my new bikini I bought last week. It would look so much better on a cruise ship than it would on our stupid beach.”

“I can’t go on a single’s cruise, I’m not single.” Will argued.

“She dumped you.” The three of them all shouted in unison.

“Come on you guys, we can all be there together, and just have fun.” Ruby continued to plead her case.

“Did I mention the alcohol is all paid for up front?” August announced with a wink.

“Bloody hell, I’m in.”

Suddenly all eyes were on here. “Please Emma.” Ruby whined.

“Free Alcohol, lass. We can just sit at the damn bar and drink all day. I’ll be your date.” Will flirted from the back of the bar.

“Brining a date would defeat the singles part, don’t you think?”

“Emma, you’re out of excuses.” August shrugged.

“Fine. But I have one condition.” She said angrily, coming up with a fool proof plan to get out of going. “If I’m going to be forced to go on this trip, then I’m not going without David.”

August laughed and surprisingly shook his head. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Dammit.

#TLC #The love cruise #stacy's fics #my fic #captainswan #captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fics #captain swan modern au #emma x killian #killian jones #emma x hook #emma swan

[carminecalico]

Eren x Armin “Fuck Away The Pain” Chapter 3

“A little bit of Sunshine”

*also quick note.

My story is also on Ao3 the link is below I would love it if y’all showed it some love on there too

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28809192?view_full_work=true

A family friend of Eren's makes a house call, which leads to a sad confession. But a friend of Armin's might be enough to shift the sullen mood.

Eren pinned Armin’s wrists to the bed smirking down at him. Armin panted heavily with a small blush on his face as he looked up at Eren. Leaning down next to Armin’s ear Eren whispered, "I did warn you what would happen, so do you believe me yet?" Armin nods as Eren places a gentle kiss on his temple, "I told you I could beat you in a wrestling match, you're really fragile. No offense Blondie." Eren lets go of Armin’s wrists to grab his waist and pulls him closer. Armin wraps his arms around the brunette‘s shoulders pulling him down to press their lips together causing Eren to sigh into the kiss.

Armin smiles as he pulls away while playing with Eren’s hair, "You’ve got half a foot on me in height too, I don't know why I thought I could win." Armin sighs softly before gently nudging at Eren who just groans, "Eren I have to get up." The trapped blonde struggles against his captor.

"It's Sunday love, you can be lazy once in a while.” Eren gently laid his body on Armin’s nuzzling his face into the blonde's neck. Eren had talked Armin into spending the weekend at his apartment, the Friday Eren performed, as Reiner went home to see his mom. So Armin was trapped by his beautiful green-eyed boyfriend, (it still felt weird to say that for both parties but in a good way) chuckling as he rested his head against Eren’s smiling. All either had on were a pair of sweatpants but Armin looked even smaller in them seeing how they were Eren’s. Eren had about 6 inches in height and had more muscle mass in general. When Eren first saw Armin in them his heart stuttered because he thought it was just adorable.

Armin held Eren close, running his fingers through the dark locks as his eyes flutter shut. "Fine you win, but you're getting us food when we do get up." The blonde teased before feeling Eren nod. The two laid there in comfortable silence, Eren who had moved his arms to wrap around Armin’s neck, started occasionally pressing light kisses to his neck and shoulder. A small shiver went down his back every time he felt Eren’s lips against his skin. The pair eventually just fell asleep holding each other.

~~~~

"Eren! Damn brat wake up!" Hannes shook Eren’s shoulder trying to get a response out of him. Eren groaned and shrugged off the hand on his shoulder before he snuggled closer to Armin. "Kid, this is cute but get up." Hannes gently smacked the boy's head. Eren rolls over, now laying next to Armin with one arm under his neck. He reaches up with his free hand and rubs his eyes before scanning the room.

"What the fuck are you doing here Hannes?" Eren grumbled before pulling Armin into his chest and wrapped an arm around his waist. Armin let out a sigh as he slowly wakes up and presses a gentle kiss to Eren’s shoulder. "I'm sorry love did I wake you? I didn't mean to." Eren rubs Armins back gently before looking back over at Hannes.

"You don't have to look at me like you hate me kid, it's 3 in the afternoon it's time to get up. I was just coming by to check on you, you haven't called in ages." Hannes leaned against the wall opposite the bed. "I don't have time to make house calls like this all the time Eren, you know your mom made me-"

"I know Hannes!" Eren sighs and looks down at Armin. He presses his lips to Armin’s head, as the blonde sleepily looked up at him smiling. Eren smiles down at Armin before pulling him closer. "Look I promised Armin I'd get us food when we woke up, do you want to join us?" Eren looks up as Hannes nods, Eren gently shakes Armin’s shoulder, "Baby, you awake?” Hannes watches Eren and smiles seeing someone was able to pull him out of the darkness that's surrounded him his whole life. "Five more minutes for you okay?" Armin nods cuddling into the pillows as Eren gets up. He walks into the kitchen and grabs a water bottle from the fridge and downs it in one go.

Hannes follows after Eren and leans on the doorway. "Eren.” Eren hums in response as he stretches his arms up. "Glad you found someone kid." Hannes smiles at him while Eren just rolls his eyes before a smile forces its way onto his face. Hannes just smirks at the kid before grabbing him and putting him in a headlock, "I can still kick your ass though." He laughs as Eren pulls at his arm, and what a sight it is for a still sleepy Armin to walk in on.

The two don't notice the blonde until a sort, "Eren." grabs Eren’s attention. He looks over at where the sound comes from and smiles. "What's going on? Who's this guy?" Eren shoves Hannes off him before walking over to Armin and wraps his arms around the smaller boy's waist. Armin melts into Eren resting his head on his shoulder before bringing his arms up and around the brunette's neck.

Eren brings a hand up to the back of Armin’s neck, “Baby, this is Hannes. He's a friend of my mother. He comes by to check on me every now and then. He's gonna join us for lunch okay Blondie?" Armin nods before he looks up at Eren. "Do you need some coffee?"

"Yes, please. Oh, and it's nice to meet you, sorry I'm not talkative right now I overslept cause someone didn't wanna get up." Armin turned to Hannes and smiled as he rubbed his eyes. Eren walks over and starts making coffee after pressing a kiss to Armin’s shoulder, "I'm gonna go get dressed Eren." Armin walks back into Eren‘s room and changes into his jeans. "I'd rather not wear the same outfit twice in a row, I doubt Eren would mind if I borrowed one of his." He looked through Eren’s closet and grabbed a black t-shirt without looking at the front, it says "fuck you you fucking fuck" on the front. Armin walked to Eren’s dresser and started gathering the top half of his hair before looking in the mirror on top. He saw the writing on the shirt he grabbed and laughed as he put the gathered hair up in a ponytail.

Eren poured coffee into 3 mugs handing one to Hannes before carrying the other two into his room, "Baby? Coffee’s ready." He walks over to Armin offering one of the mugs that the blonde took from him smiling. Eren leans in pressing his lips to Armin’s smiling as he grabs the back of his head. The blonde smiles into the kiss before pulling away to take a much-needed sip of his coffee. Eren looked down noticing the shirt Armin had on, "That’s the shirt you're wearing?" He asked chuckling lightly, "Oh man I hope you don't turn into me Blondie."

"I doubt I will babe, I don't plan on sleeping with a professor." Armin smirks at Eren from behind his mug. Eren's face drops in shock before he just stares at Armin with his mouth open.

"Wooow..... We're already picking on me for that." Eren laughs before grabbing the blonde’s waist and pulling him up against himself. "You are ruthless." Armin smiles innocently as he shrugs after putting down his mug. Eren kisses Armin briefly before pulling away and rubs small circles in the blonde's back with his thumb. "I gotta get dressed so we can head out." Eren presses his lips to the other's forehead as he lets go then makes his way to his closet. He grabs a black and white striped long sleeve and a pair of ripped black jeans, quickly throwing them on. Armin finished his coffee and got his shoes on before taking the two empty mugs to the sink. Eren threw a black band shirt on over the long sleeve and quickly put his combat boots on.

"So kid, what do you do?" Hannes asked Armin as he left his mug in the sink.

Armin hopped up on the counter and leaned against one of the cabinets. "I'm majoring in oceanography at Rose College. I just turned in my Junior thesis."

"On yeah? On what?"

"Upper Ocean and Submesoscale Processes." Armin looked over at Hannes to see his face twisted up in confusion. He started laughing, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Hannes watches the blonde smiling as one-word circles through his mind to describe him as 'Sunshine'. Armin calms down from laughing and wipes the tears off his face, "I'm sorry Hannes, I don't mean to laugh I just find it funny that it sounds like gibberish to some people." Armin takes a deep breath before looking at Hannes. "Basically it's about ocean currents interacting with other bodies of water."

“Don’t feel too bad about yourself Hannes, Armin’s just 100 times nerdier than us." Eren teased as he walked into the room. Immediately finding his place between Armin’s legs he leaned his back against him. Armin quickly wrapped his arms around Eren’s shoulders. "What do you wanna eat baby?” Eren asked leaning his head on Armin’s shoulder.

“Ramen and dumplings?” Armin suggested to which the other two shrugged in agreement. Eren tapped Armin’s thighs prompting the blonde to wrap his legs around him. Armin laughed lightly as Eren lifted him up and proceeded to carry him out of the apartment. Hannes leads them to his car and they all got in with Eren riding shotgun. Eren reaches a hand back behind his seat and motions for Armin to take his hand. Armin grabs Eren’s hand smiling while looking out the window. "You never told me what you do Hannes.”

"I'm a security officer, I'm contracted to a couple of places like sports stadiums and some smaller concert venues. It's nothing flashy but they don't notice if you indulge in a drink or two while on the clock." Hannes chuckles as he pulls up to the restaurant.

Eren gets out of the car and opens Armin’s door before offering a hand to him to help him out of the car. Armin smiles and takes his hand as he gets out of the car. The three walk in and sit down at one of the tables. Even sat on the inside of the booth next to Armin while Hannes sat across from them. They all ordered their food and made some small talk until Hannes brought up a less than pleasant event coming up. "Eren you know the memorial is next weekend right?"

"Hannes!" Eren stared at Hannes angrily. "Yea I know can we not talk about this right now?" His leg started bouncing as he cursed himself mentally for taking the inside seat. Eren rested his elbows on the table clasping one hand around his fist.

"Memorial? What for?" Armin asked looking at Hannes as he crossed his arms on the table.

Hannes awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck looking down at his lap. "Guess he hasn't told you about this." Hannes looked back up and over to Eren who avoided looking at anyone by fixing his gaze out the window resting his chin on his hands. “Eren lost his mom when he was little and we haven’t seen his dad since. I took him in until he was old enough to live on his own but I try to keep an eye on him still cause as much of a brat as he is I still care about him. I was kinda like an unrelated uncle while Carla was around. We have a memorial service for her every year just a few of us that were close to her."

Eren wanted to run like he always did when he got anxious and uncomfortable. His fight or flight response was in overdrive but he couldn't fight his way out of this and he knew that. His breathing became shallow and uneven the longer he felt trapped. Eren started fidgeting with his mothers' ring that he kept on his left middle finger, he had really slender fingers for a guy so it fits perfectly. "Thanks, Hannes this is exactly what I wanted to think about today." He snapped as he gave Hannes a cold glare.

"You're lucky you had Hannes, Eren.” Armin said quietly looking down at the table. Eren started to respond before Armin cut him off. "My parents were killed in a bank robbery when I was 7, so my grandpa took me in. 2 years later he had a heart attack while working out on the field of our farm. My family was really closed off and didn't care to make friends so I was put in a group home where I met Mikasa. She started working at 14 to save up for an apartment for us and I delve into my studies to try to get a full ride to college. We didn't let a lot of people in back then, Jean was the first to break our wall down while we were in middle school." His words came out quiet and almost empty. At some point during his story, Armin had leaned back on the back of the booth and was looking straight ahead blankly. "Jean helped break us out of our shells and found some amazing friends through him. Don't get me wrong we love them dearly, I mean they brought light back into our lives, but we still lacked any real guardians. We had to grow up pretty quickly and take care of ourselves heaven knows the group home staff wasn't going to, they just treated us like pets." Armin shook his head before looking between the two. "Sorry I didn't mean to go on such a tangent."

"Armin...." Eren looked at him almost tearing up.

"I only meant to say I was envious you still had something like a family to look after you, I didn't mean to dump all of that on you two." Armin leaned forward again resting his elbows on the table as he buried his face in his hands. "I really am sorry you guys, I guess I was just holding that in for a while."

"C’mere kid I'm told I give good dad hugs." Hannes slides out of the booth and walks over to Armin and holds his arms out. Armin lifts his head out of his hands his eyes follow Hannes before he quickly gets up and tightly wraps his arms around him burying his face in the older man's chest. Hannes wraps one arm around Armin’s waist and holds the back of his head with his other hand. "I'm gonna give you my number if you or your friend ever need something you can call me okay? No kid should have to go through life without something like a guardian. I'm far from perfect but I do what I can." Armin nodded as a single tear trailed down his face. Eren gets out of the booth before putting a hand on Armin’s shoulder awkwardly, he wasn't great at the whole comforting thing.

Armin looks up from Hannes' chest to Eren before he grabs his shirt and pulls him into the hug. Eren stumbles into the two blondes before wrapping an arm around Armin resting his head on top of the shorter blonde. Hannes chuckles letting ago of Armin so Eren can hold him and sat back down. Eren awkwardly mimicked Hannes' hug holding him close.

"SASHA! You're late you've got a table to tend to hurry up!" Someone shouted from the back. Armin looked over at the door where Sasha was.

"Sasha?!" Armin gasped seeing his high school friend.

"No way! Armin? What are you doing here?! I haven't seen you since Conny’s birthday!" Sasha ran over to her friend who lept into her arms and they held each other tightly. After a little bit, she held him at arm's length, "Are you sitting here?" She asked to which Armin nodded and her eyes lit up, “You’re in my section! Gimme like two seconds I gotta put my bag in the back and put on my apron, I'll be right back!" She rushed off to the back and Armin sat back down in the booth.

"Sasha's one of my friends from high school, I haven't seen her in seven months?" Armin looks over at Eren and presses a quick kiss to his lips. Eren grabs Armin’s hand under the table intertwining their fingers together.

Sasha comes back to the table carrying their food over on a tray. "Okay, so I know the Kagoshima is Armin’s, who got the Okinawa soba?” Hannes raised his hand as Sasha sets Armin’s down, "Awesome, so you got the Kurume?" She asked as she placed Hannes' down. Eren nodded and Sasha put his down followed by the plate of dumplings. "Mind if I sit here?" She asked Hannes and he shook his head before starting to eat. She sat down putting the tray behind her. "How've you been? It's been months." She was taking care to avoid mentioning Jean, not knowing how he was handling it.

"It’s been way too long, sorry I got so outta touch. I was in rough shape after the breakup. But I'm good now, I aced my junior thesis Friday. Mikasa and I just moved into a new apartment four months ago, you and Conny have to come over and check it out soon, it's got a beautiful view of the ocean."

"Definitely! We'd love to see Mikasa again." She smiled brightly at Armin, leaning on the table. "And I'm glad to hear you're doing well, Conny and I wanted to check-in but it seemed like you just needed some space. Oh, who's he?" She asked pointing at Eren. "Also who's this guy?" She aimed her finger at Hannes.

"Well this is Eren," Armin locks eyes with Eren before dopey grins make their way onto both faces. "My boyfriend." Sasha's jaw drops as Eren winks at Armin causing the blonde to blush faintly. "Oh and that's ‘Uncle Hannes'."

"Hold on." Sasha fumbles with her phone and scrolls through her pictures. She held it up after finding a picture of Jean. Armin turns his head to look at her phone. "You’re telling me you went from this-" She points at the picture with her free hand. "to that?" Sasha points at Eren with her eyebrow quirked up in confusion. Eren gets an offended look on his face before Armin nods smiling. "Well damn, you know he's still like a brother to me, but talk about an upgrade. What do you do Eren?"

"I'm a music major over at Sina University and about 3-4 nights a week my band and I perform at different bars in the area. That’s how I met Armin, we were playing at Mikasa’s bar. It's actually our collective favorite bar to play at, great atmosphere." Eren turns to Armin, who's holding up a dumpling to him, and opens his mouth allowing Armin to feed it to him.

Meanwhile Sasha is holding her head in disbelief, she appears to be frozen. Hannes tries gently poking her shoulder, “Uh... I think you broke her."

"Nah just give her a minute, this happens a lot." Armin waves off Hannes' concern before taking a sip of his drink.

“YOU'RE DATING A MUSICIAN?!" Sasha all but screams. "Wait since when do you go to bar shows? You never went to them. Also when is your next show? Conny and I have been dying to go to a bar show but we couldn't find any."

"See? Told you she's fine. Mikasa basically dragged me to that show, she wanted me to try a night out. Trust me I haven't changed all that much."

"Did I ever send you the video someone took of us performing that song?" Eren asked with his head slightly tilted.

Armins eyes shot open, “There’s a video....?" Eren nodded at Armin smirking.

"Bertholdt’s girlfriend, Annie, took it. She's a great videographer. Wanna see it, Sasha?" Eren pulled his phone out as Sasha nodded aggressively. Eren scrolls through his phone to find the video. “It’s not one we’re gonna post to our channel for the privacy sake of Armin but it looks great.” Eren hands Sasha his phone before wrapping an arm around Armin, whose face is as red as a tomato. “I’m kind of over the top when I’m performing, but it’s fun and everyone seems to like it.”

Armin just buried his face in Eren’s chest. “In my defense, I was pretty tipsy, Mikasa only makes strong drinks but didn’t tell me!” Armin whines softly while Eren rubs his back.

“I thought you did great baby.” Eren pressed a kiss to Armin’s head chuckling at the blonde's quiet mumbling about how 'he's never gonna drink again' and 'he just wants to go hide in some ocean cave with the fishies'. "Oh also we're actually playing Mikasa’s bar again this Friday, you and Conny should come we’ve got a killer setlist in mind."

"Armin! Who knew you were so bold? I'm impressed and Eren, you have an amazing voice, seriously." Sasha handed Eren his phone back bowing his head slightly at the compliment. "And yea we're both free Friday, we'll be there. Is Mikasa working Friday? Do you know Armin?" Sasha asked as a small blush appeared on her cheeks.

"She’s a bartender and it's a Friday, of course, she is." Armin stated without looking up from Eren’s chest, however, the blush didn't go unnoticed by the brunette. He smirked slightly as an idea pops into his head.

"You've never told Mikasa you're into her have you, Sasha?" Eren asks simply looking out the window. Armin’s head snaps up in confusion. " I'd say something before someone else steals her heart. At least one show a week I'd have to save her from some creep hitting on her."

Armin laughs lightly, "Don’t be silly Sasha's dating Nicolo right Sa-“ Armin turns to Sasha seeing her now red face. His eyes widen, " Why didn't you tell me? I could've tried to- actually I get why, I would've slipped up in excitement."

"I've been trying to work up the guts for the last 2 years. Nicolo knew we were never official." Sasha dropped her head on the table. "I don't even know how to-"

Eren cut her off handing her his phone. "Find a song that either best describes her, or your feelings for her. My band and I learn songs quickly so we'll be able to perform it Friday." Eren looks at Sasha smiling. “I don't have guts to say stuff like that either, not without music. It's my biggest form of communication. The plus side to that, music is universally understood, so it resonates and people respond to that."

“Sing this with me? I'd be too nervous alone but I should be a part of it, she deserves that." Sasha explains as she plays an acoustic song. "If you don't know guitar, I can pick a different-"

"If the first round's on you," Eren holds out his hand, "then you got a deal." Sasha smiles and shakes his hand. "Gimme two days to learn instrumental and work out my vocals, I'll have Armin give me your number schedule a studio/practice session at Sina.”

“SASHA! YOU HAVE ANOTHER TABLE NOW!”

"Gotta run it was great meeting you." Sasha rushes off to tend to the couple sat in her section.

"How long have you realized that about your relationship to music, Eren? I knew since you were young, but I thought you were totally oblivious." Hannes said making Eren jump a bit, kinda forgot he was there.

"Started realizing it in senior year? I think the summer going into my sophomore year at Sina I had it pretty much figured out." Eren explained without hostility or sarcasm, he was smiling. "Music‘s easy and beautiful."

#eren x armin #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #eren yaegar #eren jaeger #armin arlert #eremin #shingeki no kyojin #justjoccesaotfic

[silverhandsass]

Can You Feel The Sun (Pt.4)

Things are finally coming together y'all OwO

— SPOILER ALERT - this is post-game stuff, read at your own risk —

Read on Ao3

— — — — —

Johnny is not here.

He was never here.

So for the entire year that she had been focusing on getting her own shit back in order, Johnny was—

"I thought you didn't need permission, Alt! You said there would be no point in talking to the souls before you took them all away, how could you leave him—"

"I did not leave him." The urgency and strictness of her voice shot a spike of ice into Val's chest. "He remained in Mikoshi too long."

"What does that even mean? Why did he stay there?" Val asked, stepping closer to Alt—if that even helped, she didn't know.

"You should see for yourself," Alt replied, then waved her hands in a wide arc around her.

Suddenly, the pixels and blocks that formulated the cyberspace around them both began to shift and change. The blue tinge came back as she realized a familiar setting had been made. The table and booth at Tom's diner.

"Wait..."

Then, beside it, Johnny's car appeared. The doors were opened and the back of it had sunk low to the ground. There were the sounds of voices talking and laughing; no words to be heard but the voices echoed eerily like a memory. It was when they leaned against the back of his car and talked, one of their many sweet moments shared by flipping off the corpos of the world.

More of these spots began to appear nearby; the couch and bed of her apartment, the rollercoaster cart with only a fraction of the rails showing, the Pistis Sophia, the place where they bonded at the oil fields, Kerry's couch and the Seamurai, and finally...

The piers.

As Valerie approached them, she could see that on one of the docks, a faint silhouette of Johnny appeared. She kicked into a sprint to get to him, only for Alt to call out to her.

"He is not truly there." Val's approach slowed to a brisk walk and Alt continued. "These are the places he wished to see one last time before coming with me. A few minutes, he said. He stayed long enough for days to pass in the real world. Then, he was gone."

"What..." Val turned to face her. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"An outside force of Netrunners accessed Arasaka's systems. Either they were hired, or they were a separate faction. They were peering inside Mikoshi. They found me, and they found Johnny. It was easier to take him—he did not know how to defend himself within cyberspace. They tried to take me, so I left."

"You left?" V spat, "How could you fucking leave him like that?"

"I could not risk them seizing control of me or gaining access to beyond the Blackwall. Mikoshi needed to be shut down. It provided an ample distraction for me to leave. They could not find me this way," she explained.

"You didn't even fight? You could have helped him, you could have saved him," V argued.

"He would have been used as bait, and there was nothing to save. I would not blindly rush into a situation I know nothing about without first considering all its aspects. That, V, is where the human factor comes in." Alt did not need to say it, but V understood her meaning clearly. She was also talking about V's visit to the Blackwall.

"He trusted you. We both did," V spat.

"I was ready to take him. He was not ready to leave. I told him of the risks. He did not listen. Much like you," she reminded.

"So if-if he's not here," Val took a staggered breath. "Where is he?"

"I do not know," Alt replied.

"How could you not know?" Val gestured her arms wildly. "You are one of the most powerful entities in cyberspace, how could you not know?"

"They did not march into Mikoshi announcing their presence. They snuck in, shrouded by ICE. They were careful and prepared. I could not place their location or identity before I left."

This could not be happening. Valerie took a few steps back and she shook her head before running both hands through her hair. Not only was Johnny nowhere to be seen, but he was missing. Was there even anything of him left? Had he been chipped into some other gonk's head? Did that gonk die? Did he die? Was he well and truly gone? Or was he still stored away somewhere in another briefcase, left dormant and alone?

V was just starting to lose herself in those thoughts when Alt's form shifted once more, moving closer and hovering.

"You must leave, now," she demanded.

"Wh—" V looked up, "Alt you have to help me, this is... It's Johnny. It's Johnny."

"I cannot help you. You have been careless in your methods of reaching beyond the Blackwall that you did not think about your way back. You left the pathway open for anything to pass through, making it easy for anyone to reach this place—to reach me. But while I was able to shut it momentarily, shortly after your arrival, it will not hold if I do not shut it down properly. Leaving it open is dangerous and staying here will kill you. You must leave."

As she stepped backward toward the wall, Val looked around at the various locations that had been made around her, as though she was trying to commit what Johnny had done to memory. She looked for his silhouette once again but it was nowhere to be found. "Can't I stay just a bit longer?"

"You are still tethered to your body through the connection of the external rig. You must leave now before the wall is sealed for good. You are asking too much of your human body by staying here longer than you should. If you do not leave now, it will soon cease to be your choice."

V cast one last glance at her surroundings, beginning to pant as she approached the wall. She looked up at the AI once last time and gave her a small dip of her chin. "Goodbye, Alt."

"Goodbye, V."

She reached out her hand and placed it flat upon the beaming red surface of the Blackwall, feeling her surroundings fall apart. She had barely any time to register the change before she felt her existence yanked—tugged hard in such a way that all simulations of air escaped her lungs.

Her vision fell away pixel by pixel until it was all to bright, bright, bright.

Cold. Fuck. It was still too cold. She forgot about the damn ice and the water and—fuck, fuck, fuck!

Launching herself into a seated position, V gasped for air and felt her body shiver and shake. She soon felt Dakota's hands upon her as the cable was disconnected from her port. A second pair of hands joined in as both Panam and Dakota helped V out of the tub. They were both speaking rather loudly, saying things, but she could not hear them clearly just yet. Her mind was still catching up with her, not only trying to piece together what she had heard, but attempting to snap back to reality.

Then, the tears came.

—

"What the hell were you thinking? You didn't even tell me your plan, you didn't even ask me what I thought, you just went right on in there and went ahead, which—" Panam pointed at Dakota, "—we're gonna have a long discussion about, by the way!" She then brought her hands down on her thighs as she bent down a little to meet V's eyes. "What the fuck, Val?"

V had been sitting on the same cot that she'd usually commandeer whenever she got back to camp. She had a thick synth wool blanket wrapped around her to keep her warm and she made a point to avoid eye contact with anyone for the start of the whole conversation.

It wasn't even a conversation, it was a scolding.

"What if you died?" Panam argued, "What if suddenly I got the news that hey, that fucking gonk of yours walked into an ice bath and melted anyway! All under your nose! What then?"

She did have a point.

"I know, Panam, I..." V sighed heavily. "I know. And I'm sorry. It was... It had to be done."

"Why? What the fuck did you need to do that you couldn't talk to me about? You know I'm ready to help you, you just had to ask," she said as she knelt before her, shifting a bit closer.

"You wouldn't have agreed to this."

"Why?" she prodded.

"Because I had to see him."

There it was. The look of realization. Val had mentioned the man that was the very reason they had to charge into Arasaka in the first place. She had insisted before that it would have been just as much her fault as it was Johnny's, but Panam was fine with just blaming him. Particularly for the number of people they lost that day.

"And? Was it worth it?" Panam asked. "Did you find him?"

V watched the frayed ends of the blanket as she fiddled with them, picking apart loose threads. "No, I didn't."

"What?" Dakota blinked, stepping forward. "I thought you said he was beyond the Blackwall. We used your—" she paused, "—those memories."

"Apparently he never left Mikoshi and someone pulled him out," Val replied, her voice slowly beginning to crack a little as she faced that truth. "He's gone."

"But... we can find him, right?" Panam frowned.

"No, we can't," V finally looked up, and Panam's expression fell.

V had been entirely monotone the moment she began speaking after the tub. Both her mind and her body were still in shock by the events and the revelation. An entire year had passed since they parted ways, he could be anywhere by now.

"Fuck that, there's gotta be a way," Panam countered.

"Nothing short of walking right into Arasaka again to figure out what happened a year ago. Something I'll have to do alone, and it would be suicide."

"Okay, if you mention doing anything 'alone' one more time, I'm going to kick your ass," Panam warned.

"I'm never taking you back there, Panam. None of you, not after everything that happened," after all the lives that were taken. There was an uncomfortable silence between them as understanding fell into place.

Before anyone could keep talking, Panam stood up and then promptly wrapped her arms around V. She then pulled away but kept a hand on her shoulder. "We'll figure this out, we'll figure something out that works... If he's out there, then he needs you."

"Didn't think you'd want to go looking for him," V admitted, looking up.

"That's because you need him too."

Well then.

"Get some rest, V. I'll yell at you some more when you can yell back," Panam told her, a faint smile showing that it was merely a joke.

It was one that V certainly appreciated. She nodded and mumbled a thank you to both of them before they left. Slowly lowering herself onto the cot, she tried to clear her mind and get some of that rest she truly needed. Instead of wondering how she could possibly find him and hoping for the chance that he might still be out there somewhere, that he could be saved, Val shut her eyes and cried herself to sleep.

—

A few mumbles and wisps of words escaped past his lips, but beyond that, the man remained still. It was impressive that he continued to fight hard for consciousness when science itself was working against every muscle in his body. Bryce was uncertain how long they could keep this up, but it was necessary in order to keep the man sane. After all, one doesn't normally come back from the dead after around fifty years.

Still, it had been two weeks since their last conversation. He was not going to be happy about that, about being put down for such long periods at a time. After his general volatility, it was hard to predict how much time would have been enough.

They only had one shot at this.

The doors opened behind him and a set of heavy steps approached. Then, a clearing of a throat caught his attention, finally. "Had a ping in the net today regarding that friend we've been looking for. You'll never guess where."

Bryce blinked and finally looked away from Silverhand's body, turning to Tommy. He was holding out a datapad for him, one that he took without delay and began to read. The corners of his lips quirked up as he realized what that Merc had been up to. He shook his head and pressed the top of the datapad to his lips, glancing back down at Johnny.

The man was on the brink of his daze, nearing the time for his next dose. He continued to let out a few mumbles and sighs here and there, as though he was awake but not quite present.

"Go," Bryce ordered, handing the datapad back to Tommy. "Do what you can."

"How much do you want me to say?" he asked.

"As much as you need to, but nothing about him," Bryce reminded. As Tommy nodded and left the room, he turned back toward Johnny and leaned in just in time for his injection. "Your old pal's been causing some trouble again, Silverhand..." he chuckled. He could have sworn Johnny's eyes moved to him when he spoke those words, but it was hard to tell past the fluttering eyelids. Finally, Johnny drifted back into deep sleep and Bryce sighed, pushing away from the bed.

"Get ready to bring him back soon," he ordered the nearest doctor. "We're going to need him ready to talk."

—

Find the Merc.

That friend we've been looking for.

Your old pal.

What were they up to? What were they on about? Johnny had just been able to start hearing things a bit more clearly when he felt the Propofol coursing through his system, when he felt himself sink once more.

Find the Merc.

No. It couldn't be.

#y'all #im feels #angst #fluff #romance #lots of that romance #that gay ass emotional stuff #im too bi for this #johnny silverhand #valerie rose palencia #silverv #val / johnny #Val / johnny silverhand #alt cunningham #dakota smith #panam palmer #bryce mosely #believe it or not #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 spoilers #my god im dying with all these tags HELP #can you feel the sun #my fics

[cheezritsu]

Taiwa 2014

Summary: It’s been a long time since Tsukishima has traveled back to his hometown, Taiwa. The last time he was here, he was moving out. But even still, there’s this unsettling feeling that he never truly left. Everything that ever mattered to him, Karasuno, Yamaguchi, his family, they were still here, like always. So why did it feel like something was missing?

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei X Reader

Word Count: 9.7K

A/N: I’m bringing what’s probably one of my favorite fics over to tumblr. crossposted on AO3 if you prefer the format. Also pain; lots of pain.

                                      ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Sitting in Yamaguchi’s car with the windows down, messing up the left side of Tsukishima’s (too long) hair, he recalls one of the reasons he left Miyagi. 

He has resigned to not lean his arm outside, because the grey exterior has super heated to an ungodly degree, and he’s sure there’s a 1st degree burn that will be agitated the moment it slides against a volleyball court. He joked that Yamaguchi was trying to sabotage him, that maybe if they weren’t best friends he’d actually be upset. 

But it’s not like Yamaguchi can block out the sun. He didn’t remember Miyagi summers being so damn brutal, especially not in June. The sun beamed down on them as if God had a laser pointer on Yamaguchi’s Acura LX, which seemed pretty harsh even if the car was old. 

Sendai fades into the background, and the buildings get shorter and shorter like they’re descending stairs. Telephone wires criss cross the highways overhead, and incoming traffic gets a little congested. Yamaguchi leans back, exhaling slowly through his nose. 

“It’s always like this now. Everyone’s moving out of Tokyo and coming up north and for what? So they can hike up grocery store prices?”

“That’s awfully prejudiced of you, Yamaguchi. Why would they raise prices if they don’t know how to cook?”

Yamaguchi laughs. “Tokyo boys ain’t shit.”

“Careful,” Tsukishima gives a close lipped smile. “Your country accent is slipping through.”

“Yours is all gone.”

“I never had an accent.”

Yamaguchi hums when he grips the steering wheel, jerking the car left as he changes lanes. “Sure.”

Tsukishima keeps his mouth shut, as if sealing the evidence. 

The rip of motorbikes replaces the stalled car engines as his hometown becomes a highway exit. Like it’s been anything other than that. 

Tsukishima reels as they start to pass familiar landmarks. He never realized it was all so close together; it seemed like trips that used to take hours were now whizzing past at the blink of an eye. It couldn’t be Yamaguchi’s featherfoot on the gas, either. 

Suburbs isn't the right word to describe Taiwa. Hinata used to ride his bike uphill both ways to get to Karasuno, and all of his friends were spread out across the large expanse of undeveloped land. Animals likely outnumber the amount of residents in the town. When Kuroo used to call the team country bumpkin crows, he wasn’t exaggerating. 

Tsukishima narrows his eyes, and Yamaguchi’s gaze flickers over. “What’s got you so upset? You just got here.”

“It’s nothing,” he replies, then catches Yamaguchi still trying to look at him. “If I tell you, will you keep your eyes on the road?”

“As long as you don’t tell me something that’ll make me crash the car.”

“Just don’t crash the fucking car?”

“Spit it out, Tsukki!”

He grumbles at the old nickname. “I get enough of Koganegawa calling me that, thank you.” Date Tech’s school used to feel hours away; how long would it take under the wheels of this thing?

“Everything’s just. Closer than I remember.”

“Closer?”

“The places, I mean. The town feels smaller.”

A snort. “Sure is, hot shot. I see you got acclimated to Saitama real nice.” 

There’s something charming about the northern drawl of Yamaguchi’s words he knew he’d hate coming out of his own mouth. “It’s not the same.”

Yamaguchi’s chuckle tapers into a sigh. “Neither are you.”

The blocks become residential, and houses he used to know are obscured into oblivion. The people that bike by are different, the parked cars are newer, while some faces are just older in a way that settles like lead in Tsukishima’s stomach. 

And then he sees it: the house with wood paneling in the front, white everywhere else. Atop the stone pillars are the plants still taller than him, even though he’s upwards of 195cm these days. White undershirts catch the summer breeze on the clothesline, billowing like flags. Cross-hatched metal gate, a new car in the driveway. Faded pink door. 

Your house. With a for sale sign in the window. 

Tsukishima nearly breaks his neck as Yamaguchi passes it without so much as a glance. 

“Did you see that?”

“What?” Yamaguchi checks his mirrors. “Did I see what?”

The houses blend together once again. Everyone on the street carries on like Tsukishima hasn’t been shot through the chest. He slumps into his seat, listening to dogs barking and the laughter of children as everything goes accordingly. 

“It’s nothing. A kid fell off his skateboard. It looked pretty awful.”

Yamaguchi hesitates, but doesn’t question it. He minds his business, even when Tsukishima’s scowl falls into something a little more melancholy than usual. 

                                      ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tsukishima frowned from his post at the front desk, annoyed how your presence alone could stir...things in him. 

It had been a long time since he’d seen you at the museum. Perhaps that was good for his job security, but when he saw you walking up to him in a wool blazer that looks like a mirror image of the one he had on, he couldn’t help but admit he’d missed you. He didn’t know where you’d been, and he wanted to ask, but you flashed him the 460 yen entrance fee before he could speak.

“I’ll take the 4:15 personal guided tour.”

He schooled his face to keep it flat. “How many times have I told you—”

“It’s your last day, what are they going to do, fire you?”

The sarcasm was dry, and there was no twinkle in your eye. Tsukishima sighed, taking the money and putting it in the register. His replacement, a quickly scouted kid that was barely his shoulder height, tapped away on the computer next to him. “Hey, Hiroto.”

The boy was obviously younger, probably still in high school by the way his eyes widened when his senpai called for him. “Yes, Tsukishima-sama?”

You lean against the counter. “Sama?” you mouth, lips curling into that smirk he hated to love. 

“Take over the front desk for me. I have a tour to do.”

Hiroto squinted in confusion, but as soon as Tsukishima slid out of the booth the kid immediately took his place. He looked so nervous and unsure, and you, still leaning over the counter, sent him a wink. 

“Don’t worry kid, just make sure you turn this over.” Your fingers toyed with a plaque, tipping it over so it read Closed. Then, you cupped one hand over your mouth, whispering close to his ear. 

“This guy sucks at customer service anyways, and they kept him for a whole year.” Tsukishima rolled his eyes at your loud-as-all-hell whisper, pulling your arm. 

“Leave the kid alone.”

“I’m just giving him some friendly advice!”

“You’re going to give him a lot more than that if you keep with the “friendly” attitude.” Hiroto looked absolutely mortified, standing like a wooden plank at the front desk. You hummed. 

“How old is he?”

Tsukishima ignored your question. You looped your arm with his. “I feel like college students keep getting smaller and smaller these days.”

“That’s because you hung out with giants.”

You walked through an ornate archway into an octagonal room filled with glass cases of samurai memorabilia. The armour room had only a few stragglers left, all of them in silent contemplation. Against the archway, an employee Tsukishima recognized gave him a long glance as you two strolled past, but Tsukishima was more preoccupied with looking at you. He would sneak glances at your reflection in the glass, concerned by the indifferent frown you sported. Maybe it was the exhibits; samurais and swords were never your thing. But there was something he couldn’t put his finger on that made him anxious.

You either didn’t notice him staring, or you didn’t care. Waltzing through the halls like you were the guide, you two stepped into the completely secluded painting wing. Sharp angled walls jutted out to create more surfaces to hang the portraits. You tilted your chin, studying them like an art critic.   

 “Are you going to miss working here?”

Tsukishima shrugged. “It was fine. Gave me a use for my degree.”

“You regretting college now that you’re a superstar athlete?” The words are punctuated with tiny jabs to his arm, but they lack conviction. “Kinda seems like a waste, huh?”

Tsukishima frowned. The implication that the past four years spent being in your care and watching over you were suddenly useless didn’t sit right with him. “It’s not like I didn’t like it.”

“I know,” you sighed, moving onto the next painting. “It just seems like a detour now, doesn’t it? I mean, you’re a pro-athlete.”

There was a stress on how you said “athlete” that didn’t slip past him. He realized what was so off: you weren’t imitating the goofy poses of the long dead samurai anymore. Your all black outfit, once chic, seemed like you were in mourning. The heel clicks of your loafers brought his eyes back to you, where you stood with your hands grasped behind your back, pulling your fingers tightly. 

Tsukishima drew up to your side. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

You whipped your head around like you’ve been caught. “What’re you talking about?”

He snorted. “You’re a bad liar, you know. Your accent is your tell.”

“Shut,” you started to say, though it lacked a hard T and it made Tsukishima laugh. “Shut up.” 

It almost feels normal between you two. Almost. 

“It’s been weird, you know,” you started, voice barely a whisper. You looked like you were talking to Date Masamune’s portrait when you said “I’m back at home, and you’re not there anymore.” 

He didn’t know why you were saying that. He should have kicked himself in the ass and given you some kind of reassurance, but he was frozen, mouth agape with an unasked question. 

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Tsukishima always thought your profile should have been on these walls. You looked regal, even with your eyes fixed on the ground and an ashamed smile. “Who woulda thought two kids from Taiwa would be all the way out here, hm?” Your chuckle is self deprecating. “And now you’re gunna be playing for a Division One team in Saitama. Fuckin’ hot shot.”

You finally turn to him, head cocked with a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m glad you’re getting out, Tsukki. It’s what you wanted, right?”

He can’t pinpoint what’s wrong with this image. Sometimes, it appears to him in dreams, your smile warped and faded like an overexposed photograph. The right words are floating in the ether above him, elusive, mocking. But he is destined to say the wrong ones. 

“Yes, it is.”  

You looked into Masamune’s eyes once again, like you could read the brush strokes and find the answer to the universe in them. “You deserve it, you know. Miyagi never suited you.”

 The irony was lost on him, as were most things in the moment. Your presence had now soured his mood, but you hooked your arms through his like nothing was wrong. 

“C’mon, this is the last time I’ll ever step foot in the place again; tell me something cool.”

You didn’t say “probably.” Tsukishima dwells on this now more than ever, because his response never addressed that. “Did you know there’s an anime series based on the Date Clan?”

Your laugh; that’s what he was more focused on. The way it lit up your face, and how you said “seriously?” a little too loud for the dead silent museum. Tsukishima hasn’t been back to Sendai City museum either, because this memory is pristine, and it’s the last one he has of you.

                                     ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ─── 

Tsukishima’s family is still the same. 

His mother has kept her hair short for the past fifteen years of her life, and Tsukishima might have a childlike tantrum if she’d cut it otherwise. But when Yamaguchi pulls up to his childhood home, she steps out of the house with her signature bob, sans a couple more grey hairs. 

The way golden hour makes his mother look ethereal never ceases to make him smile. She gives Yamaguchi a one-armed hug as he carries Tsukishima’s luggage inside, and Yamaguchi kisses her on the cheek like a better son would. 

All Tsukishima can do is stand in front of her with his hands behind his back, head dipped with a bashful smile as his mother cocks her hands on her hips. He feels sixteen again, fidgeting with his fingers when she comes closer, giving him a smile that could coax anything out of him. 

“You never stop growing, do you?” She has to stand on her toes to brush back his fringe. “Even your hairs’ gotten longer.”

“Can you cut it for me? I only trust you.”

A smile. He’s suddenly even younger; twelve years old, standing in front of the house and holding up the award from the science fair. His mother is so brilliant that the sun goes away, shamed by her beauty. 

“Of course, Kei. Come on, your brother’s waiting.” 

Nothing’s changed in the house. Muscle memory brings him to the kitchen, where the table is set for four. Yamaguchi sheds his jacket, but Akiteru swoops behind him, snatching it from his hands. 

“I’ll take that, Tadashi.” He’s as smooth and polite as ever, grinning the megawatt smile he inherited from their mother. Akiteru may be a full head shorter than Kei now, but the slap his older brother gives him still makes him lose balance. 

“You done growin’ yet, you little jerk? Huh?” Akiteru has grown less doting in years gone by, much to Tsukishima’s own (disgusted) dismay. Akiteru stops, looking him up and down before that teasing grin distills into something prideful. In a flash, he is pulled into a tight hug, the pats on his back more tepid and loving. Tsukishima leans in for only a moment, and then Akiteru holds him at arms’ length. 

He suspects Akiteru will say something sappy, but Yamaguchi’s jacket is thrust into his arms. “Be a good friend and put away Tadashi’s coat, will you?” He gives an infuriating wink before helping his mother in the kitchen. 

Tsukishima turns, even if only to hide the sentimental smile that graces his lips. When dinner is finally ready, Tsukishima sits beside Yamaguchi, facing his mother, and suddenly he is nine years old again; Yamaguchi is over for dinner and Akiteru will no doubt embarrass him, but it’s okay because mom cooked their favorite. Time stands still and the sun doesn’t set, not for them. 

It’s almost enough to make him forget. Almost. 

“Did you know the (Surname) house is for sale?”

Yamaguchi blinks, but his mother doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, you saw?”

“It’s the one on the way here, with the pink door. It’s hard to miss.” Tsukishima keeps eating like its normal conversation--isn’t it?--but Yamaguchi’s eyes are trying to x-ray his skull. 

“It’s been up for a little while, hasn’t it Aki?”

Akiteru, who’s sixth sense is his little brother’s emotions, clears his throat. “Probably since March.” 

“They’ve been wanting to get rid of that house since (Name) left.”

Hearing your name out of another person’s mouth sends a ripple through Tsukishima, like he’s been punched in the stomach. Akiteru and Yamaguchi don’t miss the way his breath hitches, how he drops his utensils to crack his knuckles. 

“It’s probably too big for them anyways,” he says, returning to his meal, head bowed so he can’t see their prying eyes. “They’re getting kind of old.” 

“It’s been so long since it was full, hasn’t it? Their older daughter moved out over a year ago, I think.” 

His mother’s words buzz in his ears as the conversation dornes on. Akiteru steers it away from the house, asking about Tsukishima’s appointed condo in Saitama, but he only gives one word answers through the fog in his mind.

Suddenly, he is eighteen, time fast forwarding as his glasses change and his hair gets shaggier, and you, like his mother, brush it out of his vision. Yamaguchi sits on Akiteru’s left because Tsukishima scowled at the idea of you sitting next to his brother. It’s not like it even matters, because you aren’t his: everyone in the room is showering you with attention and you have to divide yourself four ways, giving them individualized smiles.

“--(Name) really broke their hearts when she left.”

“Huh?”

As it turns out, eighteen wasn’t so long ago. His mother smiles fondly at a memory. “She was a firecracker, wasn’t she? Used to walk around like she owned the place. Her older sister was always more respectful.”

“Wasn’t her older sister in a rock band?” Akiteru reminisces. 

“Yeah, but which one was constantly skipping school and getting caught with boys?”

“Younger sibling privileges. They get to do whatever they want and never get punished.”

His mother laces bridges her fingers, then leans her chin down. “But everyone still loved her, didn’t they?” His mother’s eyes are far away, like she was in the same moment as her son. “I miss her.”

Tsukishima doesn’t mean to raise his voice, but he has to force the words out of his throat. “Why’re you all talking like she’s dead? She just lives in...wherever the hell she got whisked off to. Who knows?” 

The entire table halts, staring at him. Akiteru and Yamaguchi share another secretive glance, and Tsukishima’s forehead throbs. 

“Whatever, can we just talk about something else?”

Another reason Tsukishima revered his mother: she knew how to deal with him. “Of course dear,” she says, her voice never even missing a beat. “You haven’t even told us about your last match!”

“It was televised,” he drones, but Yamaguchi gangs up on him

“It was your first time playing against the Black Jackals, though.” Despite his years of practice, Yamaguchi still has some hesitance when he changes topics. “Was it satisfying blocking Hinata’s spikes? I bet you liked shutting down Miya Atsumu.”

There’s a twitch to his lips as he gives Yamaguchi a grateful glance. The rest of dinner goes off with little conflict, and Tsukishima groans when Akiteru pulls out strawberry shortcake and the alcohol that pairs poorly with it--beer.

“I’m not drinking that.” Tsukshima means it, too, leaving his brother and Yamaguchi to their own devices. His mother cleans up easily with the extra set of hands, and while they chat over booze, he drops his things off in his old room. 

It’s the same as when he left. His old books are still on the shelves, the dinosaur figures covered in a thin, disrespectful layer of dirt. His first Karasuno jersey still hangs next to his door, swinging idly when he enters. 

It, like Taiwa, feels small. Perhaps it’s because his bed is still full sized, and his feet hang over the edge. His suitcase doesn’t really fit anywhere, and when he sits down at his desk, he can barely fit his knees under it. He feels like he’s in a dollhouse, or worse; a museum. 

The last time he was here, he was moving out. But even still, there’s this unsettling feeling that he never truly left. Everything that ever mattered to him, Karasuno, Yamaguchi, his family, they were still here, like always. 

So why did it feel like something was missing?

There’s a knock on the door he didn’t remember closing. When it opens, the light from the hallways creeps in, and Yamauchi peers inside. “Why are the lights off?”

“It wasn’t dark when I sat down.”

Yamaguchi pushes the door open with his back and when Tsukishima sees why, he lets out a snort of disbelief. “Where did you dig that up?”

The Kahlua bottle has a layer of grime on it bleach probably couldn’t cut through. It’s barely half empty, sliding across the desk into Tskishima’s waiting hands. How his friend was able to balance the bottle, a beer, and a glass of milk between his fingers was beyond him; perhaps it was the years of volleyball under his belt.

Tsukishima isn’t light handed when he pours his drink, clicking the glass with Yamaguchi’s beer and relishing it with a long sip. 

“You looked like you needed it.”

“I’m fine,” he hides his lie with another sip. Yamaguchi isn’t fooled in the slightest. 

“I didn’t know they’d bring it up.”

“You guys can stop using euphemisms, you know.” His amber eyes are dull when he looks over his glasses. “She’s not Beetlejuice.”

Yamaguchi laughs. “I suppose she won’t appear if we speak her name three times, but she’s frightening all the same.”

“Frightening isn’t the right word,” Tsukishima thinks, staring at how the liquor and milk swirl galaxies in his glass. Maybe if he looks hard enough he’ll find the right word to describe you, but the thought stays unfinished. 

Leaning on the wall, Yamaguchi turns his head to look out the window at the last vestiges of light. “Sometimes I think I see her in the convenience store; you remember the one we used to eat at after practices in third year?” Tsukishima nods at the memory. “I’ll just be standing in line, and then out of the corner of my eye, there she is. Like a hallucination.” 

Yamaguchi’s glazed eyes come back into focus, smiling sheepishly. “It’s stupid I know. It’s just,” he stares down at the floor, shifting his weight. “I know she hated Taiwa, but I thought she loved us.”

The drink has gone sour in his mouth. Tsukishima sets it down with a heavy thud, looking at Yamaguchi with a blank expression. 

“I guess she didn’t.”

Yamaguchi frowns, then tilts his head back to finish his drink. “I don’t know why I thought I’d talk to you about it,” he humorlessly scoffs. “It’s been what, five years?”

“You’re the one seeing her in grocery stores. She got what she wanted; she left this place, married her rich CEO husband, and forgot about us ‘northern folk,’” Tsukishima exaggerates the accent he fought so hard not to maintain. “I’m not going down memory lane with you. Not this one.” 

His tone drips with finality, and Yamaguchi pushes himself off the wall. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he says, leaving the Kahlua bottle on the desk. “But don’t act like you didn’t want her to stay, too.”

Yamaguchi leaves him alone in the dark. His footsteps pound down the staircase, and as they cease, Kei slouches into his chair, defeated. He tops off his drink, taking a miserable sip while his feet push the office chair side to side. 

 He spins idly, and the years unravel at the seams. 

                                          ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Not so suddenly, he is twenty years old. It’s not a milestone, not in Japan, not anywhere in the world, and yet, you wanted to celebrate. 

The day after his birthday was a lot more memorable than the actual party. Not because he was black out drunk, but because when he came back to your apartment after getting a fabulous nights rest, he was greeted with not just you, but your three overnight guests. 

“What the hell happened to them?” 

It was both luck and a curse that the MSBY Black Jackals were in town for a match. The few members that knew Tsukishima had come over for his birthday party, and the morning after they were face down at your kitchen table. Instead of their usual lively antics, they were slumped with hangovers, groaning in harmony. 

“You’re too loooud Tsukki!” Bokuto yelled, making Atsumu Miya hiccup. 

“Bokkun, please shut the fuck up,” he whispered, that melodic Kansai dialect shriveled and dry in his throat. His presence had been most shocking, but the way he called him “the snarky middle blocker” proved that he truly did remember him. 

“Language,” Hinata’s tiny voice squeaked out and you chuckled behind your hand. 

“They’ve been like this all morning. apparently they can’t head back in this condition, so,” you held up a frying pan. “I’m making breakfast.”

“Yer an angel, sweetheart,” Miya said, drawing himself up from the table. “If you had any painkillers you’d be a god.”

“You better get to worshipping then,” you pointed to the cabinet. “Bottom shelf, all the way against the wall.”

“Marry me,” he joked, and Tsukishima narrowed his eyes at your laughter. There was something about how your hair was pulled back with a headband that made him want to possessively kiss your forehead, but he held himself back. 

“What?” You said, and he realized you’d been staring at him too. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“There’s nothing picture worthy here. Except maybe those two.” He jabbed a thumb to the duo rolling on the floor. “Might keep it for blackmail.”

“You can’t blackmail people who don’t get embarrassed,” you reminded him, beginning to crack eggs into a bowl. Everything looked so effortless when you did it; even Miya was impressed by how you whisked together the eggs in a homogenous scramble. 

“Gosh, is there anything you can’t do?”

“Basic mathematics, hold her alcohol, go five seconds during a movie without crying,” Tsukishima ticked off his fingers. “Need I continue?”

“I can’t stand you, so there’s another thing,” you bit back, and Miya laughed behind you. You hummed. 

“You’ve got a pretty voice, Miya-San. Where’re you from?”

He raised an eyebrow at your compliment. “Well ain’t you sweet? I’m from Hyogo, darlin’, more specifically Kawanishi.”

The stove made that loud tick tick tick! as the flame flickers to life. It’s like that scene from Howl’s Moving Castle, and Tsukishima is enraptured at the sight of you pulling apart strips of bacon and placing them in the sizzling pan. 

“Kawanishi,” you muttered, and Tsukishima knew that longing, tired voice of yours. It always broke his heart. “Is it big?” 

“Not really; maybe ‘bout less than 200 thousand people.”

You scoffed. “Where I’m from, that's huge.”

The setter cocked his head. “Ain’t you from Sendai?”

“Nope,” you said, popping the last consonant. “I’m nobody from  the middle of goddamn nowhere.”

“It’s not like you had to bike uphill both ways to get to school!” Hinata piped up from the table. “At least you lived closer to Karasuno than I did!”

“Ah, is that how you know this guy?” Miya jutted his chin toward the taller blonde. Their gazes met momentarily, and through Miya’s whisky brown eyes, Tsukishima saw a black hole of hunger. He looked back down to you as you drained the bacon onto a paper towel. 

“Yup.” You were proud when you said it. “Tsukki and I have been together forever.”

“Oh? I didn’t know you were dating.”

Tsukishima didn’t correct him, but you did. “We’re not not dating. Hell, to be honest we don’t even go that far back. We’re both from Taiwa, which isn’t really weird because it’s a huge place, even though there’s barely thirty thousand people in it.” A fond smile played on your lips, and you fixed Tsukishima with an adoring look.

“Thirty thousand people, and I lived walking distance from you. And you never even knew I existed.”

If he wanted to kiss your head before, the urge was stronger now. He licked his lips, putting the feelings aside. “What do you want me to do, apologize?”

“Hmm, no. I think I’ve harassed you enough to make up for it.”

That little smile on your lips said it all. You busied yourself with cooking once again, and Miya looked between you two like there was something tangible. If there ever was a red string of fate tied to your pinkies, it has long since been severed. But in this memory, the two of you danced around each other in the kitchen with ease, plating breakfast for five like husband and wife. 

Actually, it was just four. You returned to cleaning the apartment, quite a monumental task with all the drunk volleyball players you’d had over last night. Tsukishima had dipped after everyone was either safe at home or tucked in on your couch, and daylight was not kind to the aftermath. 

“This is why I didn’t ask for a party,” he said, watching as you tossed beer cans into a trash bag. 

“You should be grateful she threw ya a party, string bean,” Miya said in between bites of toast. The eggs on his plate matched the blonde of his hair, and Tsukishima can never unsee this. “Even more so that it was a rager.”

“Yeah! (Name)-san has always been so nice to you.”

Tsukishima choked on his drink. “You must have gotten the memory knocked out of your head with a receive, shrimp. That woman has never been kind to me.”

“I threw you a whole party!”

“I am once again asking when I told you to do that.”

He could hear your petty insults drift away as you walked out of the living room. There was only the sounds of utensils scraping against plates until you stomped back in, holding up a box that filled your arms. It’s wrapped up perfectly, because you were always good at that; in second year of high school, every member of the volleyball team brought their Secret Santa gifts for you to wrap. You charged everyone five dollars, except for him. 

When you got closer he could see the dinosaur stickers you’d placed sporadically across the surface, and Miya snorted with laughter when you unceremoniously dropped the present in Tsukishima’s lap. 

“Happy birthday, asshole,” you spat, but he could see how the corners of your mouth tipped up in a suppressed smile, getting wider by the second. 

“Well? Open it Tsukki!”

“Yeah, I wanna see!”

The peanut gallery beside him banged their hands on the table, and Miya groaned, clutching his forehead. “I’m begging you two to stop.”

Tsukishima let them carry on in their torture for a little while longer, liking the sight of the setter gnashing his teeth. When it became too much for even him, he opened the gift at the seams, careful not to rip the wrapping paper. It was pretty cute, and he smiled at the visual of you sitting down on your bedroom floor and strategically placing the stickers, your head bouncing to a playlist he’d shared with you. 

When he lifted up one long edge, he caught a glimpse of the gift, and his breath hitched. He gazed up at you in disbelief, peeling it all back to reveal the turntable in all its glory.

Tsukishima is a pro-athlete now; he could afford music systems that cost more than a regular citizen’s car, and yet he still proudly displays this exact one in his Saitama apartment, and he always gets compliments from the girls he brings home. Above the wall, in a frame never to be touched, is the first record you ever gave him; the one he will find out momentarily was sitting under the box. But he wanted to drink in that particular moment, the moment his heart stopped completely. 

The other three leaned over to get a better look at it, oohing and ahhing at the sight. Tsukishima was too busy memorizing your proud smile, your hand on your hips, and how the constriction of his heart resembled love a little too closely. 

“Because you’re always lamenting you don’t have one. Just so you know, the only presents you’re ever getting from me are vinyls.”

He should have hugged you. He should have told you how much it meant to him, but he just assumed you could see it on his face. Maybe he expected too much from you. 

But he did say, “Thank you, (name).” with the most sincerity he’d ever used, and you’d smiled like you knew he loved you.

                                           ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tsukishima knows he does not have enough money to buy a house, and isn’t even interested in buying one, but that doesn’t stop him from putting on his (second) best clothes and working through whatever the hell he’s going to say to the person who opens your (old) front door. 

It’s the second dumbest thing he’s ever done. The neighborhood is bustling today, and a couple people do double takes as he strolls by with his headphones up, cap tilted low. He’s aware he kinda looks like he’s undercover in a Marvel movie, but there’s only so much he can do; height is a curse, he keeps telling people, but they never listen. 

He blends in enough not to get stopped, which may be yet another curse, because then he’d have time to recollect his thoughts and ask what the fuck he thought he was doing walking to your parents house in the middle of the goddamn day like they didn’t have jobs. Had his brain finally conked out now that he was a jock for a living? 

Maybe so, because the faded pink door was finally in sight. From the street he could see it clearly: a realtor’s number under the brilliant bold FOR SALE, like it’s yelling at him to leave. But his eyes drift, catching the little details of your house.

Everything in his memories has shrunk and distorted, but not this place. It’s still as clear as day: the red brick steps up to the door, lined with potted plants your mother had a talent for growing. The iron gates have rusted with time, and they stand much shorter now that he’s 195 cm. The bushes were trimmed into weird rounded shapes, both indicative of the neighborhood, and still odd in your front yard. The second story balcony had the same sheets—the same fucking ones from high school! Tsukishima had to laugh. 

And then his laugh tapers off as he realizes they’re yours. Purple with little moons and cartoon bunnies on them. The sheets from Sailor Moon! Your whine is an echo in his ears.

He’s just standing there, hands in his pockets as the memories bombard him one by one, crowding his brain, making him lose his—

The front door opens, creaking like a horror movie sound effect. Tsukishima steps back, watching in terror as a figure comes into view, checking his pockets before lifting his head up and seeing a man—a fucking giant—standing right outside his house.

“Hello?” he greets cautiously, stepping closer.  

Tsukishima holds in a breath. Your father has gotten old; almost all the hair on top of his head has thinned and greyed, like a samurai in a black and white movie. He’s still wearing the same uniform from the manufacturing plant he was employed at back when you were in high school, his (your) surname stitched on the pocket. He holds a lunchbox in one hand, the other curled into a defensive fist by his side. Intimidating as always.

 That is until he squints, and then his eyes light up with recognition. “Tsukishima? Tsukishima Kei?”

With equal hesitation, Tsukishima walks up to the gate. Your father pushes it open, and when he walks down the steps to be on even ground with Tsukishima, he laughs at how much shorter he’s become. 

“My god,” he whispers it like he’s staring at a ghost. Tsukishima feels too aware of his long legs and arms, holding them behind his back when he bows respectfully. 

“(Surname)-san,” he says, and your father’s eyes twinkle. “It’s been a long time.”

“So it has. How have you been, boy? I hear you’re playing for Saitama now.”

The recognition has him reeling. It’s too much, he shouldn’t have come. His stunned silence makes your father laugh. 

“No need to be modest about it! We’ve been following your progress, you know.” He sounds proud, as if he was talking to his own son. “I always brag to my coworkers that a pro-athlete used to come to my house. Three of em, really! How fortunate you’ve all been.”

“Thank you,” he says stiffly. “It’s been such a long time.”

“How is your mother?”  She must be awfully lonely without you two boys in the house.”

“I’m visiting her now. She told me your house was for sale?”

Your father was never an idiot. He looks up at the for sale sign, something heavy settling on his shoulders. “Both of my daughters have moved farther away than we intended,” he sighs, although there is no particular sadness in his tone. “I’m proud of them both, really, although (Name) has less filial piety than her sister.”

“She was,” Tsukishima cannot use the word that comes to mind in front of your father. “Something.”

Your father barks out a laugh. “That’s the polite way to say she was a pain in the ass.” Tsukishima’s posture visibly relaxes. “You couldn’t tell her nothin’. Sort of a shame she’s someone’s housewife, ya know? She would have done great things.” 

This time there is a wistful quality about his voice, but it vanishes as quickly as it came. “You know, you haven’t been here in a while. (Name)’s mom would love to see you. You were her favorite of all (Name)’s friends, I think.” 

A paternal pat on the arm makes all thoughts of weaseling out of this fly out the window. Tsukishima ascends the steps, the top of his head brushing just underneath the archway. 

“They don’t make houses for your height, I’m afraid.” 

“I’m used to it.” 

He wasn’t sure why he expects the inside will be any different. There’s no new furniture, the walls are all the same color, even the books your parents kept out were arranged the same way from nearly five years ago. The only difference is you’re not running down the stairs to save him from the embarrassment of talking to your parents.  

“Honey?” your father’s voice calls out as they round a corner. “You’ll never believe this: there was a professional athlete just standing outside.” 

You mother looks over her small glasses from where she’s sitting, her brows furrowing, then raising as she places her hand over her mouth. Much like his own mother, time has been kind to her, the only signs of aging appearing in the grey that grew from her back roots. 

“Oh my-” she’s standing in front of him with an awed look, and Tsukishima remembers that you and your mom have the same face, just older. He once thought he’d get to see you this age, maybe even in a house like this. His eyes fall to the floor, because your mother looks like the future he can no longer have.

She holds his arms like she’s going to lift him, her lower lip trembling. “Look at you! So tall, still so handsome. (Name) was an idiot for never making you my son-in-law.”

It used to be embarrassment that pained him. Now it was bittersweetness filling his mouth as he thought of something to say to that. “Yeah, she was” feels a little too familiar, and not at all cognizant of his broken heart.

“Oi,’ your father warns. “Enough of that, yeah?”

“Oh,” she swats her hand in his direction, then looks back up to Tsukishima with praising eyes. “I’m kidding. Kind of.”

Tsukishima rubs his arm, giving her a strained grin. He didn’t expect your parents to reopen the wound he’s done his best to forget. Time is supposed to heal all, but you are a fever that’s never broken. 

“I came by because I saw the house was for sale.”

Your mother’s face softens. “Oh, you must have so many memories here. Gosh, you haven’t been here in a long time.”

“Years” your father pipes up. 

“Years. You should head up to (Name)’s room, you might find something in there.”

This simultaneously piques his interest and fills him with existential dread. “Is that alright?”

“You’re probably the last person in Taiwa that has attachments to this house besides us.”

The sobering reality of that statement makes him drag his feet up the stairs. He looks back down, and he feels like he’s staring backwards in time. Every step forward is another year, and suddenly he’s anxious like he’s entering a girl’s room for the first time. 

Your presence, though missing, is overwhelming. He remembers condensation from something dripping onto the hard word floors he’s standing on now, your heart patterned socks mopping it up behind him.

                                         ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun was still up over the horizon, late July prickling Tsukishima’s bare arms with the last vestiges of heat. Your white dress shirt was speckled with little dots of red like a blood splatter. 

“You look like a homicide victim.”

“You look like you swallowed blue paint.” 

Convenience store slushies were actually a terrible way to beat the heat. They condensed and made the cup soggy, meanwhile the ice in the drink melts immediately after it leaves the machine. But Tsukishima wasn’t going to say no when after ten minutes of begging, Hinata proclaimed he would buy him “his last slushie of high school.” Tsukishima had just clicked his tongue, telling the excited middle blocker, “As long as you’re paying,” so he wouldn’t see how red his ears were.

Hinata and Yamaguchi chuckled at your little back and forth, while Kageyama slurped his drink with a seriousness that didn’t suit the moment. Bathed in sunshine, you all looked like bronze statues: immortal, eternal and infallible. That couldn’t be farther from the truth, but Tsukishima still liked the analogy. 

“You would think after spending like, every waking moment together these two would be nicer to each other.” Hinata hummed.

“I thought graduation might make them sentimental,” Yamaguchi sighed. His hair was long back then, decorated with multicolored clips you had strategically placed to match their uniforms. Tsukishima has told his friend once and only once that he liked this hairstyle on him the most. He doesn’t know if it’s because he has the happiest memories associated with it or not. Not that Tsukishima would ever say that. 

Yamaguchi pulled his little ponytail taut. “And to think, I wanted them to get their happily ever after.” How a person could look so much like the tear drop emoji, Tsukishima would never know. Your disgusted grunt broke his thoughts. 

“Ugh Yama, please,” you begged, throwing away your slushie like he’d spoiled your appetite. “Will you cut it out with this fantasy of yours?”

“What? Wouldn’t it be nice if my two friends got married?”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Tsukishima deadpanned.

“I’d divorce him and steal all his money.”

“Now you’re entertaining the thought.”

Hinata jumped excitedly. “I think it’d be really cute! You guys are going to the same University right?”

Tsukishima bristled, staring at his shorter teammate with contempt. “That means nothing.”

“It means you still have time!”

Tsukishima hated the gremlins optimism, but in that moment, with the sun painting a strip of light across your already brilliant eyes, he’d had the fleeting thought that Hinata could be right. 

(He can’t kid himself. It wasn’t a passing thought; it was all consuming, like a tsunami. He couldn’t sleep, because he would dream of domesticity, and your next words cemented how unrealistic this was.)

You waved your hand at Hinata. “I’m not the marrying type, Hinata-kun.”

(A complete lie, but back in 2014, he’d believed you.)

“Besides, what’s so exciting about marriage when Kageyama’s going to be a famous athlete by next year, hm? And you’re off to fucking Brazil.”

All eyes shifted to the quiet setter, still casually drinking his slushie. When he opened his mouth to speak, his mouth was comically purple. 

“Marriage isn’t any less significant than being an athlete.” He’d said, sounding very much like the student counselor. Then he grimaced. “But you two would be an unholy couple.”

You broke into piercing laughter. The sound still rings in Tsukishima’s ears. “Kags, will you join me and Tsukki in an unholy matrimony?”

“You want me to get married to you two?”

“No, idiot, she wants you to officiate the wedding.”

“What wedding?”

“I-“ Tsukishima shook his head. “Good fucking question. I’m not marrying you.”

He wonders from time to time if you’d been serious back then. It didn’t make any sense when you were third years, but in retrospect, maybe, just maybe you were hinting something. That sun-made sparkle in your eyes glittered with dimension, and underneath the mirth was something Tsukishima never understood. He thought he would have more time to. 

“My original point still stands,” you said, exasperated. “You’re all going off to do great things, and I’m just going to Tohoku.”

“Oi,” Tsukishima chided. “Don’t make it sound so inconsequential when I’m going there too.”

“You're literally going on a full ride with your volleyball scholarship,” you rolled your eyes. “So, no, it’s not inconsequential. It’s just not the same.” 

Tsukishima will not be able to fully read you until freshman year of college, so he didn’t catch your downturned lips or how you tried to blink away welling tears. He just thought you were malfunctioning. “You’re being weird.”

“It’s not weird to miss your friends.”

“AHHH! (Name)!” Hinata jumped high enough to nearly kick you in the head. He looked at you with teary eyes and you’re astonished, even though you’ve known him for three years. “Don’t miss us! Don’t be sad!!”

“We’re not even gone yet,” Kageyama grumbles, and you grasped at your heart, confusing him. 

“Kageyama...do you care about my feelings?”

“What about his response gave you that idea?”

The black haired setter clicked his tongue. “I’m just saying, we haven’t graduated yet so you don’t have anything to be sad about right now.”

“I can’t believe the Kageyama Tobio is giving me a pep talk,” you dabbed at your eyes dramatically. Kageyama flicked water onto your face, and you giggled. 

“Hey!” He was relentless, so you hid behind Tsukishima who didn’t have a quick enough reaction time to be mad at you. Not that he would say anything about the way your hands touched his sides, sending a jolt down his body. His face is probably as red as a slushie. 

“Kageyama, when you’re rich and famous I’m going to send all the embarrassing pictures I have to the paparazzi.”

Yamaguchi laughed at the mental image. “That would take an hour long special.”

“A two part hour long special.”

“You’re a fake friend,” Kageyama said, and you prop your head on his shoulder. 

“That would imply that I don’t love you all, and that could never be true.”

You used to say such brash things so casually. Kageyama, with his congested emotions, bloomed into a furious blush. Hinata mocked him, pressing his wet hand against his heated face, much to Kageyama’s dismay. Chuckling at the freak duos antics, you shuffled into Tsukishima’s side, who simply looked on with indifference. 

“You’re such a sap, (Name),” Yamaguchi notes, and you gave him a brilliant smile, more golden and beautiful than the sunset at their backs. The only thing Tsukishkma laments is that the smile wasn’t aimed at him. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

Tsukishima walked ahead of everyone, slurping aggressively on his slushie, trying to quell the jealousy that erupted in his chest. He didn’t have the right to feel so possessive over a friendly declaration, but it still worked its way into his heart. 

Suddenly you were beside him, leaning forward to catch his expression. “What’re you hiding from?”

“Who says I’m hiding.”

“Ya know, Tsukki, you shouldn’t be jealous,” Your grin is troubling and sweet, because you’re a walking contradiction. Here and gone all at once.

“Who says I’m—“

“Because I love you most of all.”

                                          ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The door to your room is open. Tsukishima stands at the threshold, hands stuffed in his pockets so he can’t feel them tingle as he approaches. 

Already he can tell something isn’t right. The blinds are closed even though it’s the middle of the day, making slits of light like jail bars shine across the floor. The walls are completely stripped of posters and pictures, but they never stripped away the paint. The blue has faded with years gone by, and everything is a hollow shell of what it used to be. 

Tsukishima steps in. It doesn’t feel like anything special, which annoys him a little. But then again, how could it feel like anything different when the room has changed so much?

It’s a storage room now. Your bed is gone, your bedside table stuck up against the wall. Your antique dresser, the one you were so proud to steal from your sister, stands alone on the far wall, no clothes sticking out. Your closet is open with suitcases crammed inside, the hangers swinging idly and the floorboards creak under his weight. 

It feels colder in here. There’s no peach scented candles, no window open, no nothing. This isn’t yours. This isn’t right. 

It’s blasphemous what they’ve done. Tsukishima is not an irrational, angry person, and yet he has the violent urge to take a metal baseball bat and smash everything in your room. Not your room. 

Tsukishima's trembling fingertips trace over a water raised circle on your bookshelf, a scar to mark your existence. And there, on the side, where you recorded the length of your growing ivy plant, the months going down down down like a timeline until they stop. Until you’re gone with hardly a trace. 

Tsukishima balls his fists. You did leave something behind. He just can’t touch it, can’t see it anywhere else but his mind's eye and he curses because no one can see how you’ve ruined his life and continue to, even in this void you’ve created in your absence. 

He stops trying to control it. The memory swirls over him like a hurricane, pounding against his skull as tears well in his eyes. He falls to his knees to take a breath, then lays on the floor, in the exact spot where your bed used to be; in the middle of the room, parallel to the windows. He can almost feel the Sailor Moon sheets, closing his eyes. His panicked breathing splits into two, and like Athena from Zeus, you’ve sprung from his mind. 

You’re catching your breath. The drawn curtains turn afternoon sunlight into a diffused red glow. It colors Kei’s pale skin and blonde hair a dreamy pink, and you roll onto your naked stomach, legs kicking up playfully. 

Through the haze of warmth and pleasure, Kei cracks open an eye just a little bit to see you gazing at him with a sickly sweet smile. Your index finger traces his collarbone, setting fire to the skin underneath. 

“What’re you doing?” He croaks, and your chuckle sends waves of pleasure to his crotch. You drag your blunt nails across his throat, and he suppresses a hiss. 

“Can’t I touch you?”

“No.”

“Hmm. It’s a little late for that now, don’t you think?”

In all the years that came after this, Kei couldn’t figure out why this happened. It felt like—still feels like—a fluke the universe handed out to him. It never happens again and you never talk about it. 

This memory is his most prized possession: he keeps it under lock and key in the back of his mind because the way his palm tenderly connects to your cheek baffles him. His hand slides down, knuckles skimming your jaw in soft strokes, like he’s carving you out of clay. 

“You said—“

“I know what I said.” Your hand catches his wrist, bringing his long, slender digits to your lips. You inspect the cuts and bruises, how they’re bent and mangled from blocking harsh spikes and slamming down equally powerful ones. You kiss them like you could heal them, and Tsukishima wouldn’t put it past you. 

“Did I change your mind?” He has a smile that’s a little too smug. You’re ignoring his face and he feels anxious; he wants your eyes on his so you’ll melt, so he can devour you while you helplessly watch just how you’ll go down. 

That never happens. Not with you. You open your mouth and give one clean suck to his index finger, and Kei inhales through his nose to control the heat pooling to his abdomen. 

You kiss the pad of his finger. “I guess I had second thoughts.”

“Second thoughts?”

“You’re trying to get into Tohoku, right?”

“So are you.”

“Right. If we don’t get in—“

“Don’t jinx it, stupid.”

“—if I don’t get in, I don’t want to feel like I wasted my time.”

His brows furrow. Kei draws up on his side, catching himself with his elbow. His body is thoroughly wrecked from giving you everything, and he shivers upon seeing the damage on your neck. But he pushes aside all thoughts of pleasure and stares down at you. “What are you talking about?”

Your hands drag down his chest, trailing the curves and contours of the muscle he’s built up for three years. His shoulders have broadened out and his waist tapers into a trim V. He is chiseled marble, a statue come to life in your bedroom. If only he were as permanent. 

Kei follows your gaze, reaching down to intertwine your hands. The gesture is obscene, intimate, and reverent all at one. “(Name),” he pleads, and your eyes flicker up to his. 

“You really think you’re going to stay in Miyagi? You, Tsukishima Kei? With the handsome face and the brains and the brawn?” You’re joking, trying to put on a smile but your voice is thick with emotion. You can’t hide, not after what you’ve just done. “You’re going to be, I don’t know, something great, and I’ll be here, like always.” 

(Tsukishima, the one on the cold floor with his eyes closed could laugh. What he wouldn’t give to be here, with you.)

The old him didn’t share that sentiment. “So, you wanted to have sex with me because you didn’t want to miss the opportunity?” 

“You’re missing the point, Kei.”

“Hey now, just because we fucked doesn’t mean you can get familiar.”

You try to pull your hand out of his grip, but his fingers curl, locking you in. He pulls you closer so your bodies are flush, and lays his head next to yours. 

“You act like you’re not more than capable of getting out on your own.”

“It’s easier for you,” you admit, words nothing but a whisper. “You’re so bright, Kei, so talented. I think it would be cruel if you didn’t leave.”

“God you’re so,” he‘s stuttering, trying to keep the awe from your voice. He can’t hide from you, not after what you’ve just said. “You don’t get it, do you? How you’re the only good thing about Taiwa, about fucking Miyagi.”

“Kei,” you whisper, on the verge of tears. “Kei stop.”

“This is the only time I’m going to say something nice about you, so.” He tilts your chin with the hand that’s bigger than your whole head, gentle as a lamb. “I don’t want to be like all the other Karasuno grads, living and dying here.”

“We can’t do anything about it.”

“Like hell we can’t. If either of us get out, if I get out, we’re going together.”

“Ha,” you laugh dryly. It certainly knocks him down a peg to hear you reject his proposition. “Please don’t make a promise you can’t keep.”

“Well, you gotta keep up your end of the bargain. Get into Tohoku and we can take it from there. It’ll be you and me.” 

“This doesn’t sound like the Tsukishima I know,” you say coyly, lopsided smirk making him crazy. “What’s got you so sentimental all of a sudden?”

“It could be that there’s someone I don’t mind being sappy for, especially if they’re naked under me.”

“I’m not—“ the words are stolen from you as Kei bruises your lips with a kiss. His hands turn your cheek toward him, and he kisses you into the mattress, all while climbing on top of you. He pulls back with a satisfied smirk, your lips glistening with (his) saliva. 

“You were saying?” 

You shove him and he falls back against your knees. “No, you were saying.”

Kei presses his chest against yours, kissing your neck, your jaw, then your lips in a softer kiss. “We’ll get out of here together. How does that sound?”

You don’t have a hopeful face. Your eyes have closed and you sigh, like you’re looking into the future and seeing Kei’s broken promise play over and over in your head. You two were young, but even you were less optimistic than he was. 

You opened your eyes, letting your face morph into a happiness Kei now realizes is tinged with melancholy. He thinks it’s beautiful, in a tragic sense. Tragedies were timeless classics, like you. 

“It sounds like you should put your money where your mouth is.”

“Do I ever disappoint?” 

This brings out your real smile, beaming at him like the sun and the moon and every star in the galaxy. “Never. Not to me.” 

Tsukishima lays on the cold floor with his hand over his eyes, lungs threatening to pop as he tries to exhale the guilt and heartache. None of the memories of this god forsaken town and this goddamn house hold anything but guilt, nothing but a knife in his stomach; the same one he stabbed into your back the day he signed on for the Saitama Spears and left. 

He used to firmly believe that if you never try at something, it can’t break your heart. He took that attitude to volleyball and wasn’t proven wrong. Tsukishima does not know if it would hurt more if he’d tried with you. It wasn’t like he did it on purpose; he simply forgot. Somewhere in the shuffle, somewhere between keeping his promise and not, it slipped from his hands like a bad block. 

He tries wiping the tears from his eyes. It’s not like thinking about it matters anymore; there’s no differentiation between the memories and the reality, only the same crushing pain. 

And yet, Tsukishima finds himself dissociating into the ceiling. If he stops breathing, he can hear your laughter echo off the walls. Perhaps his ghost and yours can live here forever, like they do in his mind. 

It’s the only way he can keep his promise.

#writing #mine #tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima #kei tsukishima x reader #reader x tsukishima kei #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu!! fanfiction #hq!! fanfiction #haikyuu!! tsukishima #hq!! tsukishima #hq!! #haikyuu!! #reader x haikyuu!! #tsukishima kei x reader #reader x kei tsukishima #tsukishima kei angst #tsukishima fanfiction #tsukishima imagines #reader x hq!! #karasuno #yamaguchi tadashi #hinata shoyo #atsumu miya #bokuto kotaro #kageyama tobio

[lavendertwilight89]

Call you Mine

I told myself I’d do a chapter of Shelter and DDW this weekend... to be fair they each have like 12 pages but... I blame @hnnwnchstr​ and @superpixie42​ for prompting and inspiring a fake dating fic and distracting me. Maybe I’ll make those chapters longer as compensation??

But I also needed to give @willowandfog​ a birthday gift anyway!

Don’t worry I still have a full running tab of every I owe bday gifts for

**cough** @keichanz​ @mamabearcat​ @thunderpot​ @smmahamazing​

Thanks @sapphirestarxx​ for proofing as usual

Here it is posted to AO3

Allllllllsoooooooooo... SMUT

Tag Wall:

@dangerouspompadour @lemonlushff @willowandfog @cstormsinukagblog @littlestuffstohide @clearwillow @ruddcatha​ @hnnwnchstr​ @smmahamazing​ @wolverine1092​ @inuyashaloverforever​ @xfangheartx​ @umacaking​ @bluejay785​  @murdergiraffe​ @superpixie42​ @shnuggletea​ @sistasecbhere​ @nopenname22​ @mcornilliac​ @sapphirestarxx​ @fawn-eyed-girl​ @liz8080 @shinidamachu​

He wasn't really sure what came over him. Typically he was a 'mind your business' kind of guy, let other people resolve their issues on their own.

But he honestly lost his shit when this fucking flea bag wouldn't take no for an answer. She said no thank you, that she was sorry she didn't feel that way, and even lied (which unfortunately if he smelt the lie, so did the wolf) about seeing someone else. To be fair, she tried to justify it was new and they had just met and she was uncomfortable by it all. She was smart. Crafty. And fuck, taking just a look at her face she was pretty fucking cute.

Kikyo had 'bumped' into him in line at the coffee shop and maybe he could blame that. They had just broke up; after dating all through high school and some of college, she was 'bored and wanted to explore other things.’ What she meant was, she wanted to explore other dicks. After their breakup, he saw her on accident in the library and he almost lost his shit. She had made them wait until they were in college because it was such a huge step in their relationship and then after three days of being single probably fucked the whole football team?!?

Ok, he was still angry about it.  Probably wasn't a whole team, but he was still hurt.

Having her chattering his fucking ear off wasn't helping his mood either so he tuned it out only to hear the girl sitting at a two seater booth trying to keep their argument between them.  She wasn't taking it lying down but she was growing anxious. If the wolf could smell it, he clearly didn't care.

"Inuyasha are you listening to me? What do you think?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, Inuyasha! Hehehe, you're so silly; I was saying we should get back together! I mean, as long as you're not seeing anyone, right? I mean, of course you're not! We love each other-- and it was a huge mistake for us to break up!"

Inuyasha did the only thing he could do; well that was a lie, he did something he had never chosen to do before. Honestly,  he'd never really been in this situation before. Kikyo was his first real girlfriend. First love. First… everything. He thought that was it. Then reality struck like the cruel bitch she was and it fell apart. But he got over it. Kinda. He had a soft spot for Kikyo because she was his first everything. She hadn't been looking for love but found it. Then regretted it thinking she missed out on life. Or whatever.

But right there, in that moment he just couldn't roll over. Not without being cursed or something and thank God they were in public because otherwise she just might with what he had decided he was going to do.

He stepped up to the counter and ordered not one but two of his peppermint coffees and paid. He heard Kikyo’s excitement from behind him and almost laughed.

Almost.

Because shit was seriously about to hit the fan.

He grabbed his cups and Kikyo followed, still yammering on and on until he reached the table with the young woman who looked like she was about to start crying she was so pissed.

"Here you go, babe," Inuyasha said as charmingly as he could.

The girl jumped at his presence. Her big brown doe eyes locked with his and for the briefest moment there was confusion. Then understanding. Then a glint of mischief. Oh fuck. He already liked her.

"Thanks honey! You ready to go?" She asked leadingly.

"Yea," he said ignoring the gaping womon behind him to pick up the other woman's coat from her chair and help her put it on.

"Wa-wait! What the fuck?? You were just with her!" The wolf cried angrily.

"If you were paying attention to our conversation then you would know I never answered her.  I was too busy noticing you were trying to pounce on my girl," Inuyasha growled possessively as he wrapped his arm around the girl's shoulder. Fuck. This totally wasn't him.  What was wrong with him? Ugh fuck, she was probably thinking she just traded one asshole for another. Smooth. Wait-- not smooth, this wasn't a real date or anything.  

When she curled herself into his side he was shocked. If he was human,  he'd probably have a heart attack. Fuck, she smelled good. Like amazing. Shit, nope, he needed to focus! This was about getting her away from the wolf and steering off Kikyo’s advances.

"And he is seeing someone," the girl in his embrace directed her answer to Kikyo. "Me. You clearly didn't appreciate what you had and he moved on."

"Uh! Inuyasha!" Kikyo quivered in distress. "Can't we-- talk about this?? Alone?"

"Sorry Kikyo. I have a date."

"This is such a fucking farce! Who even the fuck are you?! You don't smell like her! She didn't even--"

"Firstly, the name is Inuyasha. Secondly, of course I don't. I respect her. She's young and I wouldn't try anything without her permission," he glowered leering at the wolf for even implying he'd fuck this beautiful creature in his arms without courting her properly first. Shit. No. This was a ruse. Fake.

"Koga, I told you I was seeing someone. It's new, and I'm sorry.  I really am; I just--"

"Kagome you said you weren't looking for anything right now! Why him?? He's a fucking mutt!"

Ahhhhhhhh. How he was going to love kicking this guy’s ass.

"Shut up, Koga! Inuyasha has shown me way more respect and kindness within the first five minutes of knowing me rather than the month you have!"

That was a lie. They were likely going on minute six.

"Inuyasha! You can't be serious! She's inexperienced and with the wolf demon! Come on, all we needed was a break! I know you hate waiting for anything, baby," she said leadingly.

Honestly, he wasn't aroused by her insinuations in the slightest. He wasn't a teenager anymore.  Also while Kikyo had been his first and only, the fact she dumped him to go hoe herself out only to crawl back to him was disgusting.

He understood it was likely 'just sex' and just exploration but while Inuyasha was no prize himself due to his demon heritage...still, he had some pride. Also his dog demon nature felt betrayed. Maybe if she caught him on the night of the new moon he would've taken her back. Fuck, maybe if this was done in private, but not when they were in a coffee shop with a beautiful girl being bullied into dating a mangy wolf.

"Actually, I don't mind waiting for her at all. She's rather… special," he said. And he meant it. What the fuck was wrong with his brain?

Either way, the girl called Kagome didn't flinch or change her position. If anything, and it could have just been his imagination, she sank further into his body. It took everything he had not to rumble. His inner demon wanted to fucking purr now?? He needed to talk to Miroku after this. Maybe even his asshat brother. Because maybe they knew what was wrong with him, and just maybe he wouldn’t need to check himself into an inpatient stay until he cleared his head.

“Mutt, get your hands off my woman!”

“He’s not a mutt! His name is Inuyasha!! Say it with me Koga! In-U-Ya-Sha!” She yelled, slightly stepping away from his body to glower at the wolf demon in front him. Fuck. He was officially in love. And he needed to hear her say that  in a slightly more moaning pleading voice. What?? Yea--he needed to check himself into a psych hospital after this.

“He’s a half-breed Kagome. You can do so much better than scraps--” He was cut off by the loud cracking slap across his cheek. Kagome was not standing directly in front of Koga. Totally out of Inuyasha hold. The distance didn’t help his control. Or his head.

All he could think of was pulling her back to him and ravishing her. Shit. He was screwed. He didn’t want to be in another relationship--or at least he didn’t think he did. This was simply to help the girl and to get Kikyo away from him.

Speaking of the other woman, Kikyo was deadly silent. It made him kind of nervous. What was she plotting? She could be a vengeful person  when pissed off. He slowly turned to face her and was met with her glaring at the girl who was currently putting a wolf demon in his place.

“Kikyo?” He asked worriedly.

“You really want to give up everything we have for this child?”

“Don’t be like that Kikyo--we aren’t together.”

“But Inuyasha, I told you; I made a mistake. Please, let’s just go and figure this whole thing out together.”

The two squabbling finally quieted down behind him and he felt a trembling hand on his chest. He looked back and saw Kagome--almost hurt. But why would she be hurt? Maybe she was just a good actress in this situation. Or maybe she was feeling what he was?

No wait, back track, he wasn’t feeling anything for her. He was just crazy. They just met and learned each other’s names from the other people who were fighting for their attention.

“If you want to go back to Kikyo I won’t be upset… We just met and this is all so new. I won’t make you choose if you aren’t ready--”

“You’re gonna let this animal two-time you Kagome?!”

“Koga will you just shut up!” Kagome yelled. “I’m just saying we are just seeing each other and if he wasn’t set on anything then--”

“Nah, I’m set babe. Let’s get outta here,” he smiled cockily and placed his arm back around her shoulder and led her to the door.

They exited unfollowed but he didn’t drop his arm. When they crossed the street back to campus, he then did drop his arm and walk beside her. Fuck. The silence was killing him. Shit. What does someone say in a situation like that?

“Uhm, thank you, Inuyasha. I appreciate what you did. I hope I didn’t ruin anything with your ex.”

“It’s not a problem. I wasn’t about to let the bastard keep harassing you.”

“I can handle myself, thank you.”

“Yea, looked like it,” he smirked.

She looked up at him and giggled. “So, uhm, my name is Kagome.”

“I’d say it’s nice to meet you but--” he paused. Did that shit head actually follow them?? Was he a fucking stalker?

As subtly as he could he stopped and turned her to face him. She blushed madly as he leaned down to press his forehead to hers as he whispered, “This fuckface is pretty set on you for some reason. He’s just a block behind us.”

She swallowed and exhaled slowly. Shit. His dick was twitching. He had problems. He obviously needed to get laid. How could her peppermint coffee breath smell that wonderful and magic to literally send those kind of signals to his cock?

“How--uhm--how far are you willing to take this?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Kagome.”

“Do you mind walking me to my apartment?”

“Nah, that’s fine,” he said softly as the wolf was getting closer. Inuyasha raised his head and kissed the crown of her head. Oh God. He was screwed. Would it be wrong to actually ask out this girl? She was obviously single.

No. No. No… He just got out of a relationship. It’d be dumb to jump right back in. Especially under the pretense this ‘arrangement’ started.

He did notice her sigh as she took his hand and led him towards her apartment. The sigh was… happy. Or at least that’s what he thought it was. But the area her apartment was in was oddly familiar. He’d been here before. Wait a second--

She got her keys out and opened the door then turned to say something when Miroku swung the door open fully.

“Inuyasha!!! What a lovely surprise!”

“Miroku?? You know Inuyasha?” Kagome asked curiously.

“Well of course! He’s my roommate!”

“Wait--you’re--”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Inuyasha groaned. This… this was not happening. This was the girl Miroku had been trying to set him up with. Son of a bitch. The irony of it pissed him off. Almost as much as that goddamn wolf who was still lurking about.

“Get inside,”he pushed Kagome forward past Miroku before shooting him a ‘shut-the-fuck-up’ look.

“What’s wrong??” she asked hurriedly as he closed the door.

“The fucking wolf is still--”

“Oh… he does live in the same complex as us.”

“Koga? He was still bothering you, Kagome?” Miroku's teasing face turned concerned quickly.

“Yes, I was going to get coffee and study when he just showed up at Starbucks again. He wanted to buy me coffee and I made up a lie I was meeting someone--”

“Hence the text Sango and I received, continue,” Miroku explained.

“But he wouldn’t leave well enough alone and then I saw…” she trailed off biting her lip. Oh shit. He needed to bite the lip. FUCK! NO! NO HE DIDN’T!

“A woman was behind Inuyasha--so I didn’t say anything to him at first. Just tried to explain I was busy when he surprised me and brought over a cup of coffee and helped me put my jacket on so we could leave together.” She was omitting the part where he claimed they were seeing each other. Was she embarrassed?? Did she not want to be seen by her friends with a half-demon?

“Oh shit--a woman?? Who?” Miroku smirked.

“Kikyo,” Inuyasha informed dryly.

“Oh reallllllly. And you just--blew her off?”

“I wasn’t about to let the flea bag exploit her.”

“Even if it did ruin your chances at getting back together with the woman you love?” Miroku smirked leadingly. He was going to fucking kill him if he ever returned home.

“Shut up, Miroku.”

“Miroku, I feel bad enough Inuyasha had embarrassed himself by saying he was with me--” Kagome started before Sango emerged from behind her and shoved her.

“What did we talk about Kagome?” Sango said sternly.

“I’m… pretty?”

“And?”

“Any guy would be lucky to have me…” She said it as though there was dirt in her mouth. What the fuck did he walk into?

“That’s right,” Sango nodded her approval. “Hey Yash. What’s up? What did I miss?”

Miroku filled Sango on what was going on as Kagome shrugged out of her coat and downed the rest of her coffee. Inuyasha was drawn to her. Did she put a spell on him? She did exude some reiki--not as much as Kikyo but maybe she had it under more control than his ex.

“That slimy, twisted, asshole--”

“However, it seems Inuyasha acted like they were dating,” he said as he raised his eyebrow. Oh that fucker was sooooooo dead.

“Oh!!! That's wonderful! So we will let you guys get on your date then,” she winked at Kagome who began to protest. Sango obviously didn’t care or wasn’t listening as she tugged Miroku who was smirking at him. Son of a bitch.

Once they were out the door, Kagome exhaled in defeat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for them to put you in this situation,” she said quietly.

“You’re the one stuck with a half-breed,” he spat. She flinched. And then he felt like an asshole.

“What?? Don’t call yourself that! There’s nothing wrong with who you are,” she said as she made her way to the kitchen.

“Yea yea, tell that to the rest of the world.”

“The rest of the world doesn’t matter; it only matters what you think. You have friends who seem like they care about you, too. Does it really matter what everyone else thinks?” She asked as she grabbed two bottles of water and proceeded to stroll over to the couch and sit down.

He just realized he was still awkwardly standing in her entry way when she motioned for him to join her. Taking his coat off, he hung it next to hers and then slowly approached her couch. He sat on the other side to give her some space.

Her eyes looked disappointed as she handed him a water. Why? Or was he imagining it? Or did he wish to honestly see that? Son of a bitch.

“So… did you want to watch tv?” She asked awkwardly.

“That’s fine,” he agreed, trying to break the tension.

She handed him the remote which surprised him. It was her house and he was the one who was kind of imposing. Or at least that’s how he felt. He turned on a movie. Of course it was The Proposal. Of fucking course it was a fake engagement movie.

“So… uhm…” she stammered biting her lip. Damnit she needed to stop doing that before he lost control and tasted the fucking thing himself.

He also noted to himself that he was going to find a girl. That night. Because this intense desire and crazy amount of longing for intimacy was pushing him to the brink of insanity.

“What?” He bit out harshly. Much harsher than he intended but he was fucking frustrated at this point. Her scent was covering him. Her presence was domineering. He needed to take a minute. Swallow his pride. Call his goddamn brother.

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk,” she mumbled. Andddddddd now she was crying. He was an asshole. Before he could stop himself, he reached over and grabbed her chin to make her look at him. And then he nuzzled her cheek.

What. Was. He. Doing?!?!? Why was his demon half so--so-- Yea he needed to call Sesshomaru.

“Inuyasha?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just-- do you mind if I make a call really quick? I need to check in with someone,” he said in anonymity. She didn’t need to know he was calling a jackass to ask why he was going crazy.

“Oh my gosh! Did you have to cancel plans because of me?! I’m so sorry! Please, feel free to use my bedroom, bathroom wherever!”

“Keh, no, no, it isn’t a big deal. I’ll just be a second. I’m going outside real quick. I was gonna test something with that wolf anyway,” he said, pulling his face back from her cheek which was now a dusty rose. He bet it would look even better with sweat dripping from it and her eyes half glazed over from lust---and for fuck’s sake!!!!

He leapt over the couch in an instant and opened and closed the door to the porch without further explanation. Grabbing his cellphone out of his pocket he quickly dialed Sesshomaru’s number and sat on the railing to the little deck they had outside of their apartment. He took in the scents and realized the wolf was likely inside still. He was waiting for his prey to exit the apartment. Or rather, for him to leave.

“Takahashi.”

“For fuck’s sake do you not look at the caller ID?”

“Greetings, little brother. What can I assist you with today?”

“You sound chipper.”

“It’s because you’re on speaker and he knows he needs to be nice in front of your nephew,” a feminie voice chimed in.

“Hey Rin,” Inuyasha smirked.

“Hello brother! We miss you! Don’t we, Sesshomaru?”

“What is it you need, little brother? We are a little busy.”

“With my new nephew? I’m sure the brat has you running all over the place.”

“Indeed; he is crawling and finding his way into everything in sight,” Sesshomaru admitted begrudgingly.

“Touga!!! No!!” He heard Rin yell before stammering steps along with a very mischievous giggle. Little monster was definitely giving them trouble. He reminded himself to buy him a very nice Christmas gift.

“Like that for instance…” Sesshomaru sighed.

“You obviously wanted this. You can smell when Rin is in heat,” Inuyasha added.

“Yes, yes, now again, what do you need, Inuyasha?”

“How… how did you know Rin was your mate?”

“The fact you ask that question tells me you met yours.”

“Or I’ve just gone crazy, you jackass.”

“I can assure you that is what it is like,” Sesshomaru said.

“Look, I’m not even sure how to approach this--”

“You dated that miserable woman for quite a few years and you are informing me you have no idea how to court a woman?”

“Shut up asshole. Not like that-- I mean-- We just met. She had a wolf demon trying to hit on her and I acted instinctively and pretended we were dating. And now I’m at her place.”

“Awwww, what a fun story,” Rin chimed in.

“Not really. How do you go from fake dating to actually dating?”

“Tell her she’s your--”

“Rin. I did not tell you that you were mine.”

“Well yea, but I knew. You hated everyone except me.” Inuyasha could literally hear the twinkle in her eyes. And he completely agreed. The asshole hated everyone and everything until she came along and softened up his heart. It was obvious.

“I advise you to get to know her--allow her to get to know you. Actually ask her out,” Sesshomaru replied evenly.

“That’s a good idea too,” Rin cheered.

“Sess… uhm… what about us--”

“TOUGA NO!!!!” Rin cried.

“You have a moment now brother for your sexual question.”

“You already know it, so spill. What the fuck do I do? I can’t stop thinking about her!”

“Practice your self control. Touching her will help alleviate some of your pull towards her. I advise you not to be around her during the full moon. Unless you’ve made progress in the next week that is.”

“I can literally hear your smirk,” Inuyasha groaned.

“Sesshomaru?? Are you teasing him??” Rin questioned returning to the phone.

“Yea, punish him,” Inuyasha grinned.

“Mmmmm, maybe I will,” Rin replied happily.

“Ew. Goodbye. Thanks asshat. Thank you Rin.”

“Take care Inu!” Rin responded before the phone hung up.

Inuyasha sighed. At least he got some answers. Some advice. He could use it. Now he needed to change the fake dating to… real dating. But was he really ready for that? He was doing some really weird, shit he had never done when he was with Kikyo.

He never let himself use his demonic instincts with her. It wasn't that she hadn’t realized he was a half demon like he could actually hide that tidbit. But he could tell she didn’t like his claws, she never touched his ears, and she did not like him biting her, let alone licking her. He originally thought maybe that was why she wanted to explore; the fact their sex was rather… vanilla. But he had thought that was what she wanted since she deterred anything else.

Now his instincts were all over the fucking place. One thing was clear though; he needed to be around this girl.

Returning inside he saw her biting the fucking lip again until she turned to meet him and smiled softly.

“Everything okay?”

“Yea, I was just talking to my brother, his wife, and their pup.”

“Oh that’s so nice. I’m sorry if I made you cancel those plans,” she apologized.

“Nah, they have their hands full. Pup’s learning to crawl. Amongst other things,” he smirked remembering the loud crash that played over the phone along with Sesshomaru’s exasperation.

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“So… tell me about yourself.” Smooth. Real smooth.

“Oh--uhm--... well this is my first year here. Dorms were full when I finally picked a school but luckily they were okay with me rooming with Sango in her apartment.”

“Couldn't’ decide where to go?”

“Honestly I was avoiding the guy I had been seeing in high school.”

“What’s with you and guys not taking no for an answer?”

“Hahaha, you got me,” she laughed nervously. “But he finally picked and so I picked here. Thankfully I really wanted to come here anyway since Sango was here.”

“What’s your major?”

“Education--I want to be a elementary school teacher. I love kids.”

His inner demon was probably going to explode. Swallowing he shifted on the couch so his leg lightly touched her own. That bastard was right; it did help a little bit.

“That’s uh--cool.”

“What about you?”

“Engineering. I like to use my hands and shit. Not so good with the words and stuff.”

“Hahaha, you seem to be doing okay to me,” she smiled brightly. Damn. She was fucking goregous.

“Yea, it’s not an all the time thing so don’t get used to it.”

“What?” Oh fuck. Yea, shouldn’t have said that. Point proven. Dumb dog not good with words.

“I meant if you, ya know, wanna keep this going so the wolf doesn’t keep trying shit on ya,” he explained blushing.

“O-oh, but… You don’t have to do that. I don’t want to put you out or anything. I know you just broke up with Kikyo. Miroku told me a little about everything… I’m sure you want to go sow some wild oats or whatever.” Nope just yours. Damnit.

“Nah; I’m not that type of guy. What about you? Would I be holding you back from anything?”

“Oh no. I uh--” her blush was so distracting. So beautiful. So hot. “I wasn’t sure I was ready for all that. I’ve only dated one guy and he was… uh-- gosh this sounds so mean but boring. He was so nice, and attentive and just a great guy but there was no--SPARK!”

“Huh. Sorry to hear that,” he mumbled as he actually wasn’t that sorry. It gave him the opportunity to woo her. Okay, he needed to not talk or hang out with Miroku anymore.

“Alright; sounds like we’re stuck with each other.”

“You don't need to say it like that. Honestly, I appreciate your help but--”

“Do you not want to be seen with me?”

“What?!? That’s not it at all! I figured after dating someone as gorgeous and beautiful as Kikyo you’d be bored with someone as blah as me! E-Even if we’re not actually dating. You know what I mean.”

“Trust me. You’re an upgrade. You have five times the personality as she does. Also, not to be crude, but ten times the body.”

He smirked at her hot and heavy flush and… oh fuck. The scent of her cinnamon spicy arousal was just almost too much for him to bear. He had to think. Quickly. He stretched his arm over the back of the couch and kissed her forehead.

“But this isn’t--” Fuck he couldn’t even say it wasn’t real because to him it was. “We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. But we have plenty of excuses to see each other. Sorry I’ve made you the third wheel with horny and the princess.”

“It’s fine. I understand--Miroku said Kikyo was very important to you but you’d come around,” she said as she twirled her hair nervously.

"What else he tell ya?"

"Nothing." That was far too quick an answer.

"Try again; I smell lies just as well as the flea bag downstairs."

"Just that… Oh Gods you're going to kill him."

"Already on my to do list."

"Just you're a big puppy and he'd think we'd be good friends. We’d be good for each other, ya know? Both kinda fresh out of breakups and, yea..." Yep. He was dead. D.E.A.D.

"He's not wrong but neither are you.  He is dead. The moment he walks into our apartment again."

"So… we're gonna just uhh, keep fake dating?"

"Sure. Get to know each other.  Maybe even branch into actually being friends. Who knows, where it could lead." He hadn’t meant to say that.  Damnit.

"I uh, I'd like that," she admitted.

His heart stopped. She would like that? Really? This beautiful feisty little kitten would wanna go out with him? He looked down at her and she was smiling nervously with that damn bottom lip in-between her teeth. He bet his cock would look just as good as--

Nope. Not yet.

XxxxxxxxxxxxX

It'd been a good couple of weeks. The farce was well taken by everyone.  No one batted an eye. Well, no one but Kikyo and Koga.

Inuyasha had taken to walking Kagome to and from classes. They still stopped and got coffee, usually getting it to go since the wolf was present--waiting. They often ended up watching movies after their day was done at her place. Studied at the library together. They went out to dinner here and there but usually ate at home with their friends.

Even though it looked like to others it was going fast, it was oddly perfect to them. Even if it wasn't all true.

But in the weeks they had shared together, he learned almost everything he could about her. While she was content with companionable silence, she also was not one to hide anything. He learned about her family, likes, dislikes, pet peeves, history with men in general. He still hadn’t really figured out why she was so self-conscious but she stopped that around him.

He definitely classified them as friends at that point. He also honestly considered them dating. Even though maybe she didn’t. He was too afraid to ask. Especially when things were going so well.

She never seemed bothered by the intimacy--even behind closed doors. He always had his arm around her shoulders, their legs close and brushing against each other. He often kissed her lightly on the crown of her head, temple, sometimes even got ballsy enough to kiss her cheek. She has reciprocated a couple times out in public, but there was what was confusing. Why not when they were alone? Or at least correct him? But what was odd was the fact she sank into his chest as he held her shoulders, twirled his hair in her fingers, and when he did kiss her on the cheek, she’d smiled this beautiful nervous grin. Like he had told her he loved her.

Which he hadn’t. Not yet. But fuck, he did.

And it was crazy.

Another week passed, their routine remained the same. But he knew he was forgetting something…

They were out for a stroll after their dinner at a casual restaurant. She had decided on burgers and fries. Her go-to meal before a stressful exam or presentation. He already knew she’d regret it later and curl into his side moaning about how her stomach hurt. Yea, he didn’t like she put herself through that but fuck, if he didn’t love being the one to comfort her.

The sun was just setting when he felt it. He stopped mid stride by the fountain in the park. She glanced at him, still holding his hand and looked worried.

“Inuyasha?”

“Damnit, I completely forgot…”

“What’s wrong???”

“You’ll see in a second,” he grimaced. He felt his aura drain, his ears shift down, his claws and fangs shorten, even his hair tingled as it turned midnight black while the sun disappeared. He opened his now-violet eyes and saw Kagome gape at him fearfully.

She released his hand and went right for the ears--fuck they were just as sensitive in this form as his other. “Oh my Gods!! Are you alright?!? What happened??? Did I purify you??”

“Relax Kagome, this happens every new moon. I just forgot tonight was that time in the lunar cycle. You keep me so distracted.”

“Oh Gods… I’m so sorry,” she said, tearing up.

“What?? What's wrong??”

“I-I-I messed up your schedule.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” he said brushing his hands against her eyes, catching her tears. “I love spending time with you.” Oh fuck. He forgot his mouth ran away with him while he was human. Stupid human emotions.

“Y-You do?”

“Of course, you idiot. Why on earth would I be with you night and day if I didn’t?”

“I-I mean--” she looked nervous.

“Yea?” He pressed.

“O-Our arrangement.”

“You really think--”

“I knew you were faking everything,” a voice came from behind them. Inuyasha turned and pushed Kagome behind him.

“Kikyo, what are you doing here?” He asked, less than pleased by her appearance. Not that she really altered his feelings about Kagome. No, if anything it oddly made them so much clearer. He had originally thought if he was human it would have jumbled things up, but it only made his feelings for Kagome clearer.

“I wanted to see if I could talk to you after you dropped her off this evening.”

“Have you been following us?” Kagome asked, slightly horrified.

“Of course I have you stupid girl. He’s my boyfriend. I needed to make sure he didn’t cheat on me.”

Kagome tried to distance herself from him but he wouldn’t let her. He gripped tightly onto her hip and growled slightly.

“Inuyasha,” Kikyo said warningly.

“No Kikyo. We broke up. Correction: you broke up with me. I moved on. I’m sorry you think we are still together for some odd delusional reason but even though I’m human tonight that doesn’t mean that you’ll persuade me into getting back together with you. I’m with Kagome. End of story.”

“I overheard your conversation, Inuyasha. You have an ‘arrangement’.”

“One of which we are dating. So mind your own business,” he glowered.

“Inuyasha--” Kagome started before Inuyasha turned to face her.

“Let’s go,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

“Inuyasha! Another step and we are completely through! I will forgive this act but if you leave--”

“Don’t forgive me then. Kagome’s friendship is more important than a fake relationship with you.”

They walked in silence back to Kagome’s place until they got to her door. She dug in her bag for her keys and she was trembling. What could she be upset about?

“What’s wrong Kagome?” He asked, stilling her shaking hands with his own.

“I--I never wanted you to have to choose.”

“Yea well, she did. Even then though, it was you. Your friendship has meant more to me than our relationship ever has…”

“You’re being… really honest. Open. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yea, just human,” he snorted.

“What does that mean?” She asked as she finally unlocked the door leading the way into her apartment.

“It means my emotions are freer now. That I say more shit without thinking-- actually that part is no different. It just means shit I usually hide or am reluctant to share often comes up like word vomit now.”

“Oh,” she pondered. “Would it be mean if we played twenty questions then?”

That beautiful smirk she gave lit up his heart. And cock. Wait--he was human. He could control this better now. Sort of. Maybe. Damnit. Humans were hornier than demons. But he wasn’t compelled… Damnit would he ever not be screwed?

“It would but I won’t be opposed if it’ll make you happy.”

“Do… you mean that?”

“Question 1--yes. I do.”

“Hahaha, okay,” she laughed bouncing down on the couch. “Question 2-- why do you wanna make me happy?”

“Uhm…” he blushed hotly. “Because you’re my fr-friend.”

“Why’d you stutter?”

“That counts--because you are my friend. It makes me nervous to admit that.”

“Why?”

“You would ask all the why questions… Because it means you’re important to me.”

It was her turn to flush when she pried again, “Why does that make you nervous though?”

“It means I could lose you,” he confessed.

“I’m not Kikyo though… You won’t lose me,” she said breathily. Oh fuck she was right there in front of him.

“Not now, but eventually. Demons have different life spans.”

“What do you mean?”

“We live longer, don’t get sick, all that stuff…”

“How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-six--I was born this century. My father though, he was centuries old before he died.”

“How’d he die?”

“Freak priestess accident. My mother never really talked about it. I never asked about it.”

“What about your mother?”

“She died of cancer.”

“She--she didn’t take your father’s lifespan?”

“Are you asking if they mated?”

“Uhm, if that’s what it’s called?”

“She did--that’s why she got cancer and died early. Or at least that’s what the doctors said.”

Her tears hurt him. He didn’t want her pity. “Hey, don’t cry--”

“I’m sorry, I just-- I’m so sorry. I didn’t know and--”

“Shhhh,” he said, pulling her into a full embrace. She buried her head into his sweater and just cried. She was just crying for him. There was no pity. It was like she was shedding the tears he never allowed himself to cry. Her empathy held no bounds. He was so screwed. The love he held for her only grew that night.

Especially when she fell asleep in his arms and he carried her to bed. She muttered his name so softly and whined at the loss of his contact. He leaned down to kiss her forehead just before her eyes opened tentatively. He almost missed it; but he saw those beautiful carmel eyes flutter right before they squeezed shut again. If he had his demon sense he would have been able to see it better. To hear her heart rate and breathing. To be able to just confess.

But it was the new moon and he was still a coward. He didn’t want to hear the potential no in her answer about actually dating. The fluster from her about being his mate.

Smiling, he pressed his lips to forehead like he had planned. Then he did the only thing he was brave enough to do at the moment-- he lightly pressed his lips to hers and then quickly left the room before she could reveal to him she was awake.

He was so fucked.

XxxxxxxxxxxX

It was a couple days after that he ended up meeting Kagome at the coffee shop because he had a final that ran longer than he originally thought. He immediately regretted it having smelt the wolf the moment he opened the coffee house door.

Kagome locked eyes with him from their booth and smiled brightly. She waved him over happily. He almost forgot Koga was there--sitting in his spot across from her. He was fucking livid.

“Inuyasha! How’d your final go?” She asked as if Koga was not just sitting there glaring at him.

“Fine,” he clipped. Her brown eyes blinked at him and she tilted her head in confusion from his shortness.

“Here--I got your favorite,” she proceeded pushing his cup to him as she scooted in the booth. Making room for him. He smirked. Show time.

“Thanks babe,” he said sitting next to her wrapping his arm around her. As she turned back to look at Koga he got cocky. He wanted the wolf to know his place in Kagome’s life. Just a friend. Inuyasha was her man. Even if it wasn’t completely official yet. But Koga didn’t need to know that tidbit.

He grabbed her chin and initially she looked confused. Then understanding dawned on her as he lowered his mouth to hers. He saw her eyes widen before they fell to half-mast before he closed his and kissed her. Whoa. He thought her breath was enticing but fuck. She tasted like cherry candy. It took everything not to swipe his tongue along that lip of hers… EVERYTHING.

Pulling back he heard the tiniest whimper of disappointment from her, making him grin all the more. When she opened her glazed over eyes, she stared at him like she was begging him for more. The clearing of a throat across from them broke the spell and while he growled in annoyance she flushed from embarrassment. She proceeded to press her head into his chest, which he didn’t complain about in the slightest. Though he could see the anger and jealousy rolling off Koga in waves.

The conversation was obviously shortened with his presence but Kagome in no way shape or form felt uncomfortable. If anything, it was the opposite. She was beyond comfortable. The happiness she exuded rolled off of her in waves. He could tell the wolf wasn’t exactly excited about it either. But he didn’t say anything. They merely talked about their classes. What they were doing during their winter break. So on and so forth.

On their walk back to her place, he noticed she was biting her lip. More than usual. He wasn’t really sure why. When they finally got there, she invited him like usual and then disrobed her coat and made her way to the couch. She paused and turned to face him as he turned around from taking off his jacket.

“What’s up?” He asked, finally getting slightly irritated from the aura she was exuding.

“Uh--can I ask you something?”

“Yea?”

“It’s about… us.”

“Uh huh… well, spill then.”

“Do… do you like me?”

“What kind of dumb question is that? Of course I like you. We’re friends.” That was probably an asshole answer but it answered the question in the vagueness he needed to convey. He didn’t want to freak her out--it has been maybe a month. He didn’t know he had been in love with Kikyo for a year. Yea, mates were different but shit--she was still human.

“That’s not--ugh! That’s not exactly what I meant. I meant do you like me?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

“I just don’t want to misread things,” she admitted.

“What would you be misreading?”

“Inuyasha you’ve kissed me twice now! I just--I want to know! Do. You. Like. ME?!”

“So you were awake!!”

“You knew?!?”

“Yea!! You slammed your eyes closed so quick and hard I was expecting you to have fucking whiplash!”

“And you kissed me anyway?!! Why!?!”

“Are you that fucking stupid!?” He questioned stepping towards her until they were maybe a foot apart.

“I just want to know!!! I don’t want to be heartbroken because you don’t love me like I love you!!!” Her eyes widened and she muttered, “Shit.” She turned around and tried to walk away but he grabbed her and swung her back around.

“You’re an idiot,” he smirked down at her blanched face.

“Excuse me?!”

“I thought I was being obvious--at least for me! Do you think I go around walking with my arm slung domestically on any girl? Do you think I kiss anyone on the crown of their head? Do you think I kiss anyone??? Does that sound anything like me at all? Use your fucking head.”

“Inuyasha--stop dodging the question!!!’

“Fine I fucking love you too! I was drawn to you the moment I saw you in the coffee shop and smelt your distress. Wanna know why??? Because you’re my fucking mate! But you’re a human! I didn’t want to freak you out, scare you away, and ruin my only chance with you. That’s why I went along with the fake dating, that’s why I wanted to get to know you, and fuck it’s the main reason I can’t seem to not fucking want to touch you!!! Happy now?!?!”

She grabbed his tendrils and pulled his face down to hers; she kissed the absolute fuck outta him. Holy. Shit. She actually made the move. She was kissing him. And by Gods was it the best damn kiss he ever had.

He felt her tongue press demandingly against his lips and he eagerly let her in. She roamed his mouth and it took all he had not to slam her against the wall and rut the shit outta her. Especially when she moaned when she stroked his fang. Her extra spicy scent came alive and she was clinging to him like a freakin’ spider monkey. Her hands were wrapped around his neck, woven in his hair, and her thick perfect muscular thighs were entangled in his own legs. He should slow this down right? Give her an option. Because anything further he won’t be able to stop. His cock was already pressing into her abdomen--soon to be her sex if she continued to try and climb him like a fucking tree. Not that he minded. It was hotter than the seventh hell.

He pushed her away and whimpered. WHIMPERED. What was she doing to him??

“Kagome--we don’t have to--”

“Shut up please--I’ve wanted you from day 1. But originally this was-- well I actually don’t know what it was because clearly it wasn’t fake. Even though it was. I don’t know. But for the love of God pleaseeeeeeee stop talking and being rational for---however long it takes to have sex and just--”

He interrupted her by slamming his mouth back into hers and swallowed her loud moan. Lifting her up with ease, his cock aligned with her clit. His hips were thrusting into hers. She was grinding into him. Fuck. It was like he was a goddamn virgin all over again. He thought he was going to blow his load right then.

But the last thing he needed to do was fuck her right here on the couch. No--Miroku and Sango would be back for dinner probably within the next hour. If it was gonna happen, they needed to get to her bedroom. That way, he could try to keep her quiet until dinner was fully cooked as he ravished her beautiful body for the next couple of hours.

She was a virgin. She deserved the fucking best.

He carried her to the bedroom and slowly lowered her onto the bed, following so their bodies never lost contact. His mouth devoured her in a way he had never kissed anyone before. He was nipping her, suckling her, shit. She really didn’t care that he was a half demon.

That’s when it dawned on him where her crafty little hands were headed. The moment he felt her dainty soft fingers caress his ears. That's when the rumble came. He was fucking blissed out. If he could, he’d lay here all night. Fuck dinner. Fuck sleep. Fuck anything that had literally nothing to do with them not touching.

Her giggle brought him back to consciousness.

“Too good?” She purred. Goddamn. She should be against the law. She was too much.

“Fuck--you’re never gonna leave this bed.”

“Mmmmm, good. I don’t want to if that means you’ll stay here.”

“Deal,” he said, diving back on her. He took his mouth and moved it down her jaw. Then her neck, then--oh shit they still had clothes on. That could be easily fixed. “Do you like this shirt?”

“Huh?” Oh good--at least he had the same intoxicating effect on her as she did on him.

“Shirt--do you like it?”

“I’m confused by the question,” she admitted pressing his face back into the junction between her neck and shoulder. Keh. That was all he really needed for an answer. His claws ripped through her shirt and his hands immediately began kneading and tugging on her breasts.

“Ahhhhhh, Inu---Gods,” she wailed.

“Like that Ka-Go-Me?”

“Yesssss,” she whined writhing beneath him. Her hips were stick bucking up against his. He knew what she needed. His ears stood at attention as his hand dipped between them and his fingers sunk into her moist folds.

Her breath hitched as she whined pitifully as he toyed with her clit. He pinched, circle, kneaded, and pressed hard seeing what action would push her over the edge. The mixture of the moments seemed to be doing it though--she was panting. Between her nipple being squeezed, her neck being ravished by his teeth and tongue, and her nub being stimulated she was lost to the world around her.

“Cum for me, Kagome,” he demanded softly into her ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and yanking softly.

Her cry was fucking magical. Musical. She should be a goddamn singer. Shit. They needed to get rid of some clothing. Scratch that; they needed to get rid of all their clothing. He toyed with her a little more until she fully came back and was kissing his cheek. He withdrew his hand and toyed with the button on her jeans. She helped him by taking over and unbuttoning. He finished unzipping and pushed them down with her help as she arched off the bed. If that was the sexiest thing he had ever seen.

He undid his own pants as he sat up slowly, pulling away from her wandering hands. He was shocked when he pulled his shirt over his head and saw her sitting there with him. Her hands refused to cease their movements as she traced the lines of his abs. He groaned but wanted her to explore. Trying to remain still, he realized her breasts were still encased in her bra.

“Do you like that bra?” He smirked cheekily.

“It’s a set--I’ll take it off,” she huffed, annoyed that she was going to have to stop her ministrations. He chuckled and set forth taking off his jeans and boxers by rising from the bed. Her eyes were like saucers as she stared at his twitching cock.

“Like what you see?” he asked, trying to break the tension. She didn’t answer. Was she scared? Turned off? He was pretty sure he looked normal…

She startled him when she was on the edge of her bed and slowly extended her hand to stroke him. He flinched initially which made her retract her hand. Shaking off his shock, he pulled her hand back to touch him. OH fuck. Had he ever had sex? Did he dream about losing his virginity?? Fuck her hand was amazing. He was nervous now to enter her. Maybe he should let her get round one out of the way first. Honestly he definitely should be getting round two started for her to make sure she was wet enough to enter her without totally hurting her.

Her hand continued its work until suddenly he felt it encased with wet fucking heat. Her mouth. Her mouth was on his goddamn fucking dick. Holy Gods. Shit. Fuck. Don’t stop. Wait--did he say that out loud? Likely not coherently. It probably was a gurgling sound mixed with her name. Maybe even syllables. He wasn’t sure. Nothing was actually processing that well when her fucking tongue was swirling around his tip and licking off the pre-cum that leaked out.

He needed to focus. He didn’t want her to choke on his cock. Even though her little breathy wet sounds on were literally killing him, he honestly didn’t want to hurt her or make her gag. He needed to control himself and NOT thrust. Nope. Self-control. Self--

Her teeth were scrapping him. Oh for fuck’s sake. He tapped her and muttered cuming. Or at least he thought that’s what he said. It could have been that he was a cat. That perfect little mouth, her slender tiny hands that were cupping his balls were making him forget his damn name.

She hummed and that officially did him in. He exploded in her mouth, his hands threaded through her hair, and he gently pushed himself back and forth in his mouth as she drank him in. All of him. And that was fucking hot enough to keep him hard.

But he needed to take care of her next. He officially owed her like ten orgasms. Because that was his best one he had ever fucking had.

Oh, and the little crafty little vixen looked up at him with eyes so full of mayhem then licked her lips. Yea, nope, he had to wipe that little smirk off her mouth.

He pushed her back onto her back on the bed and then took her underwear by the sides and slid them down her legs. Once they were fully down, he began kissing up her calves, licking and nipping her thighs until he laid between them and pulled them up over her shoulders.

“Please, Inuyasha,” she begged.

“Only because you said please,” he replied before licking between her folds. She cried out blissfully. Gods, she was so sensitive. He was loving it. To be fair, she made him melt like butter in heat too. Maybe that was the power of mateship.

He used his tongue to penetrate her first making her whimper and arch off the back. Barely holding in his laugh, he held her hip firmly in one hand. His other hand took his tongue’s place as he shifted to circle her jewel. He inserted one finger first, then two, then finally three until she was pulsing around him. Her whimpers, whines, groans, begging kept him almost unbearably hard. He found himself grinding himself into her mattress for some relief. Once she came he was going to fuck her. He had to. Well, after he asked her--one last time.

Speaking the action into life, she came with a scream of his name. Fucking. Music. To. His. Ears. He maintained contact with his fingers as he slunk his way back up to her mouth and kissed her back to life.

Once she was responding and humming her approval, he retracted his finger and paused in his actions.

“Are you sure about this Kagome?”

“Inuyasha please, I need you. I want you so badly it hurts,” she pleaded.

“This isn’t--”

“Oh my God why am I begging you to have sex with me???” She was actually crying. He needed to calm her down. Jesus Christ.

“Hey hey, it’s not that I don’t want to. Trust me--I want to. Fuck do I want you, Kagome. You’re perfect. I just didn’t want to rush you--this--I know how this shit started. I just didn’t wanna put you out.”

“We love each other right??”

“I mean--yes--”

“Then how are we rushing,” she breathed, kissing him gently. That kiss was all the encouragement he needed. He lined up to her entrance and slowly poked to make sure she was serious. That she wouldn’t stop him. If anything, he felt her try to edge downward to take him in making him chuckle.

He finally snapped his hips forward and destroyed her hyman. After swallowing her gasp and cry, he removed his mouth and roamed her face kissing her cheeks, temples, forehead and then laved her tears that spilled from her eyes.

She finally twisted, albeit a little awkwardly, as if she was trying to get used to the feeling of being so full of him, and then groaned. Yep. Nope. He couldn’t control the buck he sent back in reply even if he wanted to. Her moan of reply was enough to make him keep going.

Her hot little body responded to every thrust he gave her with her own. He began picking up pace and he was shocked she was able to keep up with him. But her whimpers told him it wasn’t enough. He had never tried this, but, then again, he was doing a lot of things with Kagome he had never tried before.

He moved his hands that had been cradling her face to her thighs and lifted her ass off the mattress and sat up. Her answering wail and hands clenching onto his arms were enough to keep him going. He felt her walls tightening on his hard cock that was thrusting in and out of her tight area. Watching what he was doing to her was almost too much--but she was close. Luckily, he had large enough hands where he merely had to just adjust to use one of his thumbs while keeping a tight grip on her hips to press against her swollen overly sensitive and excited nub. Two strokes was all it took until her walls were clamping down on him and her voice was being sung to the neighbors upstairs and downstairs of her apartment.

He moved one arm to swing around her back so she sitting atop him as he kept fucking her. He buried his head into her neck and groaned.

“Kagome--I’m gonna--”

“Come for me,” she panted.

“I’m gonna mark you--” he gritted out of his elongated fangs. His only response was a moan as she shifted to tilt her bare open neck towards his mouth. Fuck. Did he mention she was absolutely in every way shape and form perfect?

He clamped down on her neck and drove himself into her one final time before he came inside her. When he finally came down from his orgasm, he realized her mark had been cleaned and shown like the demonic markings he had on his cheeks.

“Kagome?”

“Hmmm?” she hummed happily stroking his cheek to bring his face to hers.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhmmmm,” she purred, kissing him. Fuck. He was perfectly screwed.

They spent the next hour strengthening their newly formed bond. He kept trying to swallow her groans, moans, wails, whatever she gave but he began failing because she brought out his own.

They finally emerged for dinner with a very brightly blushing Sango and a wickedly smirking Miroku. Kagome was bashful but Inuyasha only expelled confidence and pride. At dinner, they chatted, confirmed what they had done, and decided a celebration was in order.

What started out as a charade, ended with the most real thing Inuyasha had ever felt in his life. Kagome. The most perfect woman he could have ever had the pleasure of calling his.  

#inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha au #inuyasha x kagome #inu x kag #inukag #smut smut smut

[zmediaoutlet]

have a cigar

new fic for the Sunday Morning Porn Club; having some s2 feels and thinking about how big and wild and uncertain Sam was in those early days. But also thinking about porn.

title: have a cigar pairing: Sam/Dean rating: E length: 5500 words tags: Season/Series 02, New Relationship, slight D/s, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Post-Episode: s02e05 Simon Said            

summary: What happened with Andy and Ansem unsettles Sam. Dean doesn't seem worried.

(read on AO3)

They’re over the state border from Oklahoma into Kansas when Dean indicates that he’s getting off the highway. Sam looks up at the sound of the blinker, looks around. "What, gas?" he says. They’re not that far out from Guthrie, so unless Dean has to pee—

"Nah, we’ve still got a hundred miles left in the tank," Dean says, rolling the car smoothly onto the offramp. Wellington, Kansas: population 8,105, and exactly no reason for them to be stopping. Sam frowns across the bench and Dean glances at him, and then rolls his eyes. "Jeez. A guy can’t want a break? We were up all night, man, dealing with the psychic twins. Plus you got a head injury. Sue me, I’m taking a minute."

"It's not really a head injury," Sam says. Kansas outside the car windows—mid-morning, green. "We told Ellen we’d be right there." He rubs his hand under the edge of his cast, rolling the tendons under his thumb. "What if she’s got a case or something?"

"Then it can wait half a day," Dean says, and it’s a little louder than it needs to be. He’s got a grip at ten-and-two, his jaw square. Sam looks at him and hears his voice in a perfect echo, saying you’re all part of something that’s terrible, and he bites the inside of his cheek so hard that it throbs but he doesn’t say anything, after that.

Outskirts of towns tend to look the same. Truckstop, motel attached. A McDonald’s. Dean pilots them to a vaguely dirty Mexican place that looks like it last had its decor updated in 1987, and when they’re at the dented formica table with their plastic menus Dean lets out a sigh that sounds like it came from his feet. "You think they’d give me a margarita at, uh, 11:32 in the morning?" he says.

He does look tired. Sam sucks the sore inside of his cheek. "Probably goes great with huevos rancheros," he says, and gets Dean to smile at him, so—all right. A little break.

The food’s bland, given the cornfields all around, but comforting too. They don’t talk much. Dean looks over a copy of the Wichita Eagle that someone left behind, in some obituary-scanning reflex; Sam swirls his fork through his larded refried beans and looks out the window, thinking. Andy, and Ansem. Brothers, though Andy didn’t know it until it was too late, and Ansem went bad but Andy—

Dean knocks his boot into Sam’s ankle, and Sam flinches but when he refocuses Dean’s looking at him, kinda soft. Kinda not soft. Kinda defiant, in that weird way that he’s started to do, and Sam feels heat rush into his cheeks, seeing. Dean smiles like he won something, even if his ears go pink, too, and he wipes his mouth with the balled napkin and says, "I’m going to the can," and Sam says, "Oh, great, thanks for the update," because they are brothers, and Dean smirks and walks off with a kind-of swagger and it’s not Sam’s fault that that calls attention to the shape of his ass, but Sam’s looking, either way.

The waitress offers more iced tea, when Dean’s gone. "No, gracias," Sam says. She raises her eyebrows a little but puts down the check. Sam leans back in the booth, spinning his unused knife as best he can in his busted hand, looking again out the window. Trucks, and a cornfield, and blue skies. Plain and familiar, and if he tries to imagine a demon coming here, a darkness swarming over it, somehow it just—doesn’t compute. But there was Andy, and Ansem, just a hundred miles south of here in an easy calm town that had no idea what was coming, and they brought murder with them. Killers, and freaks, and the town and its people hadn’t done a damn thing to deserve it.

"What, you forget how to pay a tab?"

Sam jerks, brought back to earth. Dean’s standing slouched, one hip leaning on the table, rifling through his wallet.

"Swear, you’re a lousy date," Dean says, dropping a pile of cash onto the little plastic tray, but he’s got a smile threatening, tucked into the corners of his mouth, and Sam’s—god, he didn’t know it could—this is—different.

A motel. Corn-themed. "Real original, huh?" Dean says, under his breath, but he gets them a room, and when they’re inside with two queens and steady A/C and the shades pulled, leaving them in privacy, he drops his bag on the closer bed and looks at Sam sidelong and says, "I’m gonna shower first, ‘kay."

The bathroom door closes before Sam can say a thing. He blows out the breath stuck in his chest and sticks out the Privacy Please tag, and then he sits on the end of the bed he guesses is his, and looks at the bathroom where the shower’s hissed on, the pipes clanking inside the walls.

Not so—obvious, usually. They’ve only been—it’s been like this, between them, for—what, a few months. Barely. Since Dad, and the brutal weeks after it, and a weird raw conversation in pre-dawn light that led to Sam putting his hand on Dean’s face and Dean snarling and then practically shoving him onto his back, and—

It’s new. Dean seems to seesaw back and forth between pretending like it doesn't exist, in the light of day, and a raw grasping want that kind of scares Sam, even if it's maybe the hottest thing that's ever happened to him. No one he's ever been with has wanted him this much. He's never wanted it this much.

He washes his face in the sink. When he pushes the damp edges of his hair back he looks—okay. A little tired, but decent. His head does hurt, actually, where Tracy tried to brain him. Where she was forced to.

Sam closes his eyes. Jesus, he is tired. And—pissed off, too. When he thinks about it. Freaks, all of them, and Sam's got the visions and the migraines and this horrible feeling in his gut like something's gonna happen, some tidal wave of shit that's going to crest the horizon, and he's not going to be able to do a damn thing about it.

Andy, and Ansem. Speaking their wants into reality. Max Miller, moving things with his mind. Sam, and his dreams, and it wouldn't have to be bad. Except it always ends up bad. Death, somehow waiting, and he strips off his jacket and his boots and crawls onto the nearer bed, and buries his face into the pillow, and tries to listen to the steady familiar sound of the shower going and tries not to think about that dark wave. Drawing nearer, cresting.

*

A honk wakes him up. He blinks, drags in muffled air. When he turns over Dean's sitting on his bed, frowning at the curtains. "Just 'cause you can't drive," he mutters, and then looks back down at Sam. "Oh, finally."

Sam drags a hand over his face. No drool, that's something. He yawns, stretching out on the bed. "How long was I out?"

"Couple hours," Dean says. He points the remote and Sam sees the TV on, muted, a newscast—and off, just as fast. Politer than Dean usually is.

"Should've woken me up," Sam says, and Dean rolls his eyes and says, "You need all the beauty sleep you can get," and Sam smiles, can't help it, and he goes to sit up but Dean puts a hand on his shoulder and he stays put. Surprised a little. Dean, looking at him.

"Sammy," Dean says. He's tipped in toward Sam, in a t-shirt and boxers, and the look he's giving Sam is steady, considering. "You didn't have any crazy dreams, right? No big visions?"

Sam blinks. "No."

"No," Dean repeats. "So we don't have to light out of here and haul ass to, like, Weehawken or something?"

"What?" Sam says. "No. Weehawken?"

Dean shrugs. "Tried to think of somewhere that'd suck." He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, looking at Sam, and then throws a leg over Sam's and settles himself in Sam's lap, just like that. Sam grabs his hips, startled instinct, while Dean shifts and his ass sits warm and heavy against Sam's dick. "So. Want to screw?"

Jesus. "How romantic," Sam says, but his mouth's dry. Light of day, just straight-out like that. Yeah, this is new. Dean pops his eyebrows, grins in that goofy way where he's trying to be funny or sexy or something, but for Sam it just reminds him how this is—them, the two of them together like this despite all sense or reason, and his stomach flips like encountering some new nasty thing but it's just—Dean. He gets a steady look, that grin going smaller, and then Dean leans down over him and braces his hand on Sam's pec to balance and kisses him like it's his right to do it, plush and immediately wet, his mouth like something—like a dream—

Sam pushes up on an elbow, kisses back. Dean tastes like toothpaste. His stomach, warm and soft under the warm soft t-shirt, and when Sam squeezes his ass with his good hand Dean makes a little noise into his mouth, tips his hips down. Hard already, pressing into Sam's stomach, like he was waiting maybe, like maybe he'd been fooling with himself hoping Sam would wake up. Sam bites his lip because it turns out Dean likes that, even if he bitches after, and he dips and kisses Dean's throat because it turns out Dean likes that, all his vampire comments notwithstanding, and Dean cups the back of Sam's head and digs his fingers into Sam's hair and Sam flips them over, easy reversal of their weight with Dean's thighs splayed out around his hips, and Dean says fuck under his breath when Sam tugs his shirt-collar down and bites at him there, but his chest pushes up into it like a chick wanting her tits played with, so that's clearly okay. "Vampire," Dean says, predictable already, and Sam grins and then sucks there, slicking his tongue against the little dents of his teeth. Dean's hips kick up and his thighs squeeze Sam's hips, but he groans too, and says, "Moving me around. You're such a control freak."

Their hips grind together. Even through his jeans it feels incredible, his dick chubbed up to match Dean's. "Like you mind," Sam says, even if he can feel the heat rushing up into his face to say it, flat-out like that. When he picks his head up Dean's eyes are heavy, his ears that bright red they always are when he's turned on, and Sam licks his lips and watches Dean's attention drop to them. Jesus. "You want me to stop?"

"Didn't say that." He tugs at Sam's arm and Sam lifts up, kisses him open, and Dean's leg slides against his, his hands framing Sam's waist, dragging up his back. When Sam pulls back to breathe Dean's lips are puffed-wet, red as his ears, and he's—fuck, he's hot. Sam drags a thumb over his cheek, swipes the wet off his lower lip, and Dean smiles a little. Like he knows what Sam's thinking. "Just saying. You gotta be in charge, huh? Never would've guessed, Sammy." He catches Sam's wrist and fake-whispers, like a shared secret: "That was sarcasm."

Sam snorts. "Yeah, you're hilarious." He braces his cast on the bed, tugs out of Dean's grip and slides his hand down to grip Dean's dick. So close it's easy to watch Dean's eyes go a little wide, his lips parting. "You wanna shut up now?"

Dean's thigh slides against his hip. "Make me." Sam squeezes and Dean sighs out hot against his face. He blinks then, a flash of smile. "Hey, maybe you could. Use that mojo."

Sam doesn't understand for a second. He pushes up higher on his elbow, frowns.

"Get me to do whatever you want, huh?" Dean's cheeks are very red. "No control issues then. What Sammy says goes."

With his dick this hard Sam doesn't know how to react. "Dean," he says, helplessly—some mix of turned on, of pissed off. Like Sam could be like—like he could be Andy. Ansem. Some nasty magic, getting Dean to do anything. "I wouldn't."

Dean licks the point of one canine, eyes on Sam's mouth. It's not picking a fight because he's so obviously hot for it that Sam's body reacts like a strange compulsion, stretching out over his brother, pinning him down. He rocks his hips into Dean's, pins one of Dean's arms down by the wrist, and Dean groans, arches into it. "I know you wouldn't," he says, rough. Sam leans back, his stomach flipping uncertainly, and Dean grabs his neck, arches up, wild and intense and amazing like Dean always is in bed—wholly present, wholly wanting, like no one else ever has been. Everyone is always thinking about something else, always holding a little apart. Not Dean—Dean's here, pressing his dick up against Sam's dick, holding Sam close, leaning up and kissing Sam's jaw where he hasn't shaved in a day, breathing hot against his ear, saying tight and sweet, "Tell me, though—tell me, what you'd make me do—what you'd say, Sammy, tell me—"

—and Sam says, coming up from some deep place, "I'd tell you I was gonna fuck you," and Dean groans like Sam punched him in the solar plexus—a deep short breathless grunt, breaking Sam's grip to grab his hips, his ass, hauling him in like Sam's already inches deep. Jesus, jesus, Dean wants it, even here in this little dump of a motel room at three in the afternoon, the light coming in muffled through the blinds. Vivid even in the muted grey, Dean's eyes visible and his mouth wide and his face an open book, a crazy thing. No secrets, anymore, Sam's sure of it. Sam grabs his face, dips his thumb between Dean's lips. "Jesus, Dean—yeah, I'm gonna fuck you. You're gonna let me. Aren't you."

"Yeah," Dean says, deep and ready, and Sam kneels up, drags Dean's boxers down and watches his dick slap up against his stomach, and he rips his jeans open one-handed, feeling wild. Feeling powerful, and right, especially with how Dean's eyes drop immediately to see him get his dick out and his mouth works like he wishes Sam would just feed it in, like he wants it there, wants it bad, wants it—wants Sam—

"You're gonna open right up for me, aren't you?" Sam says, lightheaded almost, and Dean nods dumbly and spreads, grabs one leg up by the back of his knee so Sam can burrow fingers down into the dark place between them—soft a little, damp a little, and when he looks up into Dean's face Dean's bright fuckin red like he knows exactly what Sam's thinking, like he knew what Sam was gonna ask for. Sam spits on two fingers and feeds them in and finds Dean—open, kinda wet, and Dean says—"There was—the conditioner, in the shower—" and Sam groans wild because it's like magic, like some wished-for thing, like he's Andy and he said to Dean open yourself up for me and Dean willed himself fuckable. He feeds himself inside, inch after inch, and Dean's face flinches and his eyes squeeze tight but he's rearing up, gripping into Sam's shirt, his legs wrapping around Sam's waist, lifting off the bed practically with how he's trying to shove Sam deeper, gasping for more than Sam can give.

Sam gets his cast bolstered under the small of Dean's back, keeps his weight tipped up into the perfect place for Sam to grind into. It's not wet enough and Dean's not loose enough but it feels outrageous, and Dean's panting for it, pulling at Sam's shirt hard enough that a button pops. "Fuck, you can hold me up, huh?" Dean says, shuddery, and Sam presses up on his good arm enough that Dean really does go airborne, the strain intense but worth it for the noise Dean makes when Sam's dick jolts inside him at the new angle. Dean's face presses against Sam's, his nose bumping Sam's ear and his mouth wet at Sam's jaw, and Sam curls his hips in these short shallow pumps that wouldn't usually do it for him except that Dean's so wrapped-up close that he can feel every shaking thing it's doing, the insanity of what he can make his brother feel.

That he can make him feel—Sam groans, sits back, and Dean's clinging to him so tight he gets hauled upright and his ass shoves down on Sam's dick through sheer gravity, enough to make him tip his head back on his shoulders and groan out loud. Sam keeps him in place, holding his hips steady, and shoves up, up, watching Dean's throat go bright red, kissing there when he can't stand not to, anymore. Dean's thighs squeeze his sides and his dick's rubbing all over Sam's shirt and he gets both hands in Sam's hair, keeping him in place, and Sam's biting and fucking up and keeping both their balance and so it's a surprise, sort of, when Dean says nearly breathless against the top of his ear, "Tell me—Sammy, tell me something else, tell me what you want me to do."

Fuck. Sam bites Dean's collarbone hard enough that Dean yelps, squirms and yanks at Sam's hair to get him to pull back, and both feel so good that Sam just sucks harder before he lets go. When he tips his head up Dean's looking at him, red-faced and glassy-eyed, and Sam says without thinking much about it, "I'm gonna come in you, and then I want to eat it out. You're gonna let me." Dean's jaw drops further and Sam actually feels the spasm around the root of his dick, Dean's whole body clenching. Anticipation, he's pretty sure. Sam hasn't—they haven't done that, yet, but now it's all he wants, and he knows Dean will practically cry for it. Sam smiles at him, a weird sort of power filling up his chest, watching how his working dick makes Dean feel. "Later, too. If I want you to blow me. Tonight. Or at a rest stop—shit, parked out where someone might see, Dean. You'll do it, won't you?"

Dean groans, when Sam pushes up into him hard, keeping his hips held tight against Sam's so that he's full. The way Sam's learning he likes to be. "All right, Sammy," Dean says, soft, and Sam—fuck, he can't, he can't wait anymore, and he bears Dean back onto the mattress and lets his head bounce, and when he shoves in at just the right angle Dean shouts at the ceiling and then Sam's free to just—fuck him, to get his dick inside that hot friction where Dean's so ready for him, where he wants it because he—because he wants what Sam wants. Something Sam didn't get, when they first started this up, and it was rough and unspoken and awkward in the night. Everything he tried, something Dean just accepted and built higher, and when they kissed for the first time that wasn't like fighting it was something that—that Sam doesn't—god Dean feels good, and he's moaning against Sam's temple like he's getting some kind of dick-based religion, and Sam grips his hips and slams in without care or finesse and when he comes it's brutal, some unloading from the base of his spine, and he says—something—but his ears are roaring and his hips are flexing deep and Dean's nails are digging so hard into his back under his shirts that it hurts but even that feels good, at that second, the world aligning for a half-moment into being for fucking once in Sam's life—right.

He barely holds himself up, breathing hard into Dean's throat. Dean's still twitching, his dick like iron against Sam's stomach. He rocks against Sam, churning Sam's dick inside him where it's still hard, and they groan together, feeling it, but Dean groans louder when Sam slips out. They've fucked like this—a handful, two handfuls, of times, and they've swapped back and forth but Sam's only felt insane this way when he was on top, when he was in charge. With his body still ringing like a struck gong he licks his lips and then bites Dean's throat very deliberately, just below the amulet cord, hard enough that it'll leave a mark, and only when Dean's hissing does Sam think to ask—but. But he doesn't have to ask.

He releases his jaw, stretches it. Licks, against the hurt mark, and then crawls down the bed, kisses Dean's pec and his nipple and his soft belly and his hip, and brushes his cheek stubble and all against Dean's straining dick and feels Dean's thighs jump around his shoulders. When he looks up Dean's watching him, head off-center on a pillow and his eyes slitted, dark. "What am I going to do now?" Sam says.

Dean licks his lower lip. "You—" He swallows. "What you said."

"Yeah," Sam says, and pushes Dean's thighs up in time to watch his sore-fucked rosy asshole flex and drip, a runnel of white that Sam dips and collects with his tongue—salt, and bitter, but good enough that Sam's bones shiver in his skin. He laps across Dean's asshole and feels it so hot and soft, and Dean moans rich enough up above that Sam's own dick twitches, caught in a semi between his hip and the bed. He licks deeper, his tongue almost dipping inside, and then hooks two fingers in easy on the wet he left behind, and Dean cries out but only spreads wider, fisting himself and letting Sam do—whatever he wants, whatever he needs, because Dean is—because Sam is—

Dean comes quieter than Sam expects, every time. His whole body freezes for a second and then he makes this deep sound in his chest, in his throat, arching toward Sam like for comfort, almost. Almost. Sam licks him through it and then lifts up, holding his fingers tight up where he'd buried them, watching Dean's face while the last of it spurts from his dick, while he slowly, slowly relaxes into the bed.

It's—god. Afternoon. Why is that what Sam thinks, but it's what he thinks. Afternoon and the sound of a semi roaring to life in the parking lot, and Ellen waiting a few hours north of here, and the world resettling into something that has to be dealt with. Sam works his jaw, lets his fingers slip out when Dean spasms around them. He doesn't—he doesn't regret this, ever, not since that first time when they both had to take a minute—but he feels… He swallows, and sits back on his knees. Jesus, he's still dressed. Jeans and button-down and socks, sweat and worse griming him up. He zips up, feeling weird.

Dean rubs a hand up his stomach, smearing his own jizz over his belly and undershirt. His amulet's swung around on his neck, laying against the pillow. "Dude, that was sick," he says, but in a way that's weirdly admiring. Sam licks his lips, the remaining afterglow twisting in his belly. Dean lets his heels slip down the bed, his legs splayed around Sam, and he's red-faced still, but maybe that's just because they're both so—out there. Exposed. Even so, Dean touches his knee against Sam's hip, the corner of his mouth turned up. "Seriously. You're like a freight train when you get going, you know that?"

Sam swallows. Thick aftertaste in his mouth. "Shut up," he says, and finally goes for the buttons on his shirt. Jeez, Dean really did rip one off—Sam'll have to hunt for it on the carpet or wherever. He likes this shirt, it doesn't deserve to get ruined by—this.

"Hey, did you hear me complaining?"

Sam keeps unbuttoning, wrestles the shirt off his sweaty arms. He's gonna need a shower before they go anywhere.

"Sammy," Dean says, and Sam swings a leg over, goes to get off the bed. Shower, and clean clothes, and maybe they won't be late enough that Ellen asks questions—"Hey!"

Sam's forearm is grabbed before he can get away and Dean tugs hard enough that Sam'll have to wrench something to get away. He pauses, still on one knee on the bed, and when he looks Dean's up on one elbow, still naked from the waist down, frowning at him. "What," Sam says.

"What." Dean squints at him, and he's not blushed up anymore, not turned on. Looking at Sam like he wishes he could peel back Sam's skull and see what he's thinking, but Dean's never been good at that, really. Sam wishes he were, sometimes. All his life he'd wished for some kind of privacy, but then when he got it everything just ended up—worse. When it mattered Dean couldn't see him, see what counted, and now, with what's happening—

"Come back here," Dean says, firm, but his tug on Sam's arm is gentle as anything. Sam sits, half-on the bed with his hip tucked up against Dean's hip, and Dean's still looking at him with that intense so-thoughtful look, and it's—it's killing Sam, kind of, deep in his gut, that Dean doesn't know, that he can't know, that Sam's by himself here even when like five minutes ago they were about as close as Sam's ever been, will ever be, to anyone.

"You're wigging out," Dean says, after a few beats of silence, and Sam snorts and says, "Yeah, that’s me," and maybe it's bitter and too much and too weird but Sam doesn't know any other way to be, now, but Dean sighs and says, "Fuck, Sammy," kinda quiet. He reaches up and gets Sam by the neck and tugs him down, down, until there's no choice really but to kiss, and Dean opens up soft and wide and easy like they've been doing this for years, like he knows exactly what Sam needs. Sam gets a hand on his jaw, holds his face. His lips a little chapped, toothmarks on the inside like he was biting himself before to stay quiet, and when they stop Sam leans his forehead against Dean's, lets their noses brush together, breathes his air. Dean runs his fingers through the hair at the back of Sam's head, a slow carding pull. Sam sighs.

"I don't know if I need to give you like a signed customer satisfaction survey," Dean says, in his normal voice, "but that was good. For me."

Sam's eyelids squeeze tight without him even meaning to. Purplish sparky bursts against the darkness.

"Hey," Dean says, and pushes him back an inch. Sam doesn't open his eyes, just lets Dean move him, and feels Dean's hand on his throat, his thumb braced right over Sam's pulse. "Seriously. If it's too weird, or—or if you don't—damn, Sam, I know you want it. Talking like that. And I'm obviously good with it too, I just practically came my brains out. So don't let it be weird, okay. It's just you and me."

"Like that's not weird?" Sam says, weirdly croaky and feeling how his voice vibrates against Dean's grip. When he looks again Dean's face is striped with the light from the blinds, the sun dipping just enough. A band of shadow across his eyes, a band of greyed-out yellow across his nose, showing the freckles he pretends he doesn't mind. Sam pushes further up and Dean lets him go, frowning at him while Sam picks the amulet off the pillow, resettles it into its place over Dean's sternum. He fiddles with it, avoiding Dean's eyes. Sharp little horns pricking his thumb. How haven't they blunted, he wonders, after all this time. He presses his thumb harder into one, letting it hurt, and watches his hand rather than look at Dean's face. "I don't know, man. I'm just—that stuff last night, it's not—it's bad. I don't want that. The power. The dreams are bad enough, you know?"

Dean gets a grip in Sam's t-shirt—loose, but enough that if he held fast Sam probably couldn't get away. "If you hadn't had 'em we wouldn't have gotten there," Dean says. "Tracy probably would've died."

"Ansem might've lived," Sam says back, and Dean makes a tch sound, not very under his breath. Sam sucks the inside of his cheek, that sore spot. Still sore. Dean's better at this, Sam thinks. This calculation. Who deserves to live and who deserves to die. Who's good and who's not. Tracy for Ansem, Sam thinks, but Andy still murdered someone. Bullet to the brain, and now who's a monster.

"Sorry," Dean says, and for that Sam does look up, frowning. There's a glimpse of white teeth as Dean worries at one corner of his lip. "I guess it's not really a—I wasn't trying to make like it's not a big deal."

Sam shrugs. "Scares you, doesn't it?" Dean blinks, expression tightening. "You said. Freaks me out, too. I don't think anybody here's saying it's not a big deal." Sam lets the amulet go, rubs the pad of his thumb to feel the deep dents he's made. They look like holes in him. "It just—first it was Max and now Andy. It goes wrong every time."

Dean sits up, fast. "We don't know that," he says, more intense than he really ought to be when he's half-naked. "Sammy. We're not gonna let it go that way, okay? You and me. We can handle it."

He gets his hand on the turn of Sam's jaw, makes Sam look at him, and Sam does because it's not like looking at Dean's a hardship. He tries a smile and Dean nods, like Sam's agreeing to something. He really can't read Sam's mind. Sam wonders if that's something he'll be able to do, soon, coming down the pipe of this shitty year, but before he can tug away at that miserable thought Dean's leaned in and is kissing him, again. Soft, coaxing when Sam's stiff, and he puts one hand solid on Sam's chest, grounding and warm. Sam sighs, leans into it. It's nice, and he might as well let Dean have something.

"Better," Dean says, quiet, when they pull apart, and Sam nods even if it wasn't a question. He's let his hand fall onto Dean's bare thigh and he squeezes the muscle there, trying to say—he doesn't even know what. Dean kisses him again, quick, and then lifts his eyebrows. "You still going to make me blow you at a rest stop? That's nasty, man."

Sam huffs and Dean grins, even if it's small. "Don't need magic powers to know you're easy," Sam says, and even if it feels like an effort he manages to make it sound light.

"Damn right I am," Dean says, and Sam smiles and says, "Okay, okay, I'm taking a shower," and lets Dean pat his chest before he closes himself into the little room, fluorescents and yellow tile, bright and just a little dingy.

Andy said Tracy was scared of him. Sam believes it. He saw her face, this morning in the ambulance. That dim horror. Dean's not there. Scared of the situation, about what might happen, but he's not afraid of Sam, yet. Sam tips his head back against the door, imagining it. Taking Dean's hand and pitching his voice a certain way—that weird tone that he'd heard in Andy's voice but which hadn't affected him—and saying kiss me, and Dean going soft and easy and smiling, and doing it, no questions asked. Doing other things, just because Sam asked.

His stomach turns hard enough that for a second he really thinks he's going to puke. Hits different than it did when his dick was doing the thinking. The things he could do, with that power—he's lucky that it's just the dreams he has to worry about. Although—back with Max—there was that wardrobe, that he moved—

"Hey, get a move on," Dean says, muffled through the door. Sam opens his eyes, shocked back to the moment. "We get cleaned up and out of here, I only got to pay for a half day, and we've got to get up to the Roadhouse by tonight."

"You're the one who wanted a break," Sam says, and Dean says, quieter, yeah, yeah. Sam's breathing hard, remembering. That wardrobe. It came out of Sam like a punch, pure instinct, but—Sam's learned how to do a lot harder things than to throw a punch.

He strips out of his clothes, turns on the shower. Hot. Runs his hand under the water, waiting for it heat up, and thinks that, in the right circumstances, anyone can be pushed.

"Sam, seriously!" Dean calls out.

Sam folds his hand into a fist, hard enough that he feels the tendons strain. They're not going to let anything happen. He might have to ask Dean to swear that's true. For now, his skin's crawling, but that's okay. He gets in the shower. They have road to cover, before the day's done.

#wincest #sam/dean #my writing #ref to mind control but everything's consensual

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line: Chapter 7

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn’t really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma’s teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn’t come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, AO3

~*CS*~

On the road between Dallas and Houston, May 18th

“Alright, Scarlet, it’s come down to this.  What’s your move?”

Emma kept her face impassive as Will scrutinized her closely.  She nearly gave herself away when he leaned forward with a smug grin.

“All in, luv,” he said with confidence as he pushed his chips into the center of the table.

“Mistake,” Tink called out from the chair she was perched on towards the front of the bus.

“Shut it,” he growled, rolling his eyes.  Tapping his cards he nodded, “All in.” 

She looked at her cards before making a show of looking over the cards that were face up in front of Will’s pile of chips.  With just the right amount of hesitation she returned his nod.

“So am I.”

Pushing her chips in she became aware of someone looking over her shoulder.  Knowing it could only be Killian she ignored him, or at least tried to.  Ever since she’d half kissed him in Chicago she’d become almost jumpy whenever he was around.  She was beyond relieved that he hadn’t wanted to play poker with her and Will because there would have been no way for her to stay calm and collected with him nearby.  As it was her hands felt unsteady and she was suddenly a little too warm.

“Let’s see ‘em,” she said with the slightest shake in her voice.

Will grinned widely, turning over his cards with a flourish, “Three of a kind with my mates Jack, Jack, and would you look at that?  Jack.  I’ll be takin’ the pot now-”

“Will you though?” She hummed.

Killian snorted a laugh from behind her while Tink muttered an ‘I told you so’ from the front.

“Bloody fuck-” Will’s smile dropped to a grimace, “You’re a cheat you know.”

“Or I’m just that good,” she said smugly, flipping over her cards, “Full house and it seems a couple of your mates have dropped by for the party.  Do you think they could loan you the money you now owe me?”

“Sod off,” he growled, tossing his cards at her with a glare.  His eyes flicked over her shoulder, “Beware of this one, mate, she’ll bleed ya dry and do it with a smile.”

He pushed away from the table while Killian and Tink laughed, stalking towards the back of the bus.  Emma shook her head as she organized the mess of chips, calculating just how much of Will’s money she’d won over the course of the tour so far.  It wasn’t much, they’d agreed early on in their friendship to only play for coins, but Will was a sore loser and she was a smug winner.  Every cent would count when they got to Vancouver and she’d take what he owed her.

“He’s totally going to pay you in pennies again, you know,” Tink said, sounding slightly bored but still amused.

“I still can’t figure out where the hell he got six thousand three hundred pennies and who he paid to help him,” she said hotly.  She turned to Killian who had moved to their kitchenette, “We played the final hand only an hour before our last show and the stupid things were piled up at the side of the stage before the encore.  Even Belle doesn’t know!”

“Oh, she knows,” Tink said, peering around the back of her chair, “We all do.  We’ve just decided not to tell you.”

Killian snickered and she scowled at him, “Do you know too?”

“On my honor, I do not,” he said solemnly, his hand raised like he was swearing an oath though his eyes were glittering with amusement.

“Liar,” she scoffed, getting back to setting her chips into manageable piles, “Whatever, I still end up getting the money from him and that’s all that matters.”

“I never knew you were so competitive, love,” Killian remarked, his voice lilting with a laugh.

“Only in poker.  I’m pretty laid back when it comes to other stuff,” she said with a shrug.

“Not true-” Tink’s face popped up over the top of her chair, her eyes narrowed, “Should I tell him about the Scrabble debacle?”

“Scrabble debacle?” Killian echoed as he set a mug of hot cocoa, complete with whipped cream and cinnamon, at her elbow.  She felt herself blushing at the gesture as he slid in across from her with a cup of tea for himself, “I feel this is a tale I should know.”

Tink bounced out of her chair and over towards them, pushing her aside as she slid into the booth.  Emma rolled her eyes but scooted over to make room for her.

“So this happened on our first tour together-”

“You say tour, I say a month of hell roaming around the eastern seaboard,” Emma grumbled, taking a sip of her cocoa.

“Okay, true,” TInk conceded.  She gave Killian a shrug, “We were playing a gig almost every night and travelling around in a van that also had all our equipment-”

“Don’t forget all four of us were sharing the same shitty motel room and we’d all just met each other.”

“Do you want to tell it?” Tink asked with a raised brow.

“Nope,” she said with a grimace, “It’s bad enough I’m being forced to relive it.”

“Anyway,” Tink said pointedly, “Ruby thought it’d be a good idea to play Scrabble to get us to be friends and not just people that played music together.  Any down time we had the board came out and we played until one of us was needed somewhere.”

“We did the same with Boggle,” Killian said with a smile, “Robin had nicked the game from a pub we’d played at one night.  Liam hated how we got it but never seemed to complain when he won a round.”

“A man after Emma’s own heart,” Tink said sweetly, winking at Killian while kicking Emma under the table.  Emma scowled at her but otherwise ignored her, “See the rest of us thought we were playing for fun, getting to know each other through some nice, quality time together.  Then this one decided to keep a running tab of everyone’s scores.  When we found out the friendly games went out the window.”

“I’m not the one who started betting money on the games,” Emma huffed.

“No, but you bloody well took some of us to the cleaners regardless,” Will’s muffled yell sounded from his bunk.

“She also got the four guys we had on the road crew in on it.  Set up a tournament with a twenty five dollar buy in and two hundred dollars going to the winner-” Tink shook her head but she was grinning.

“And who, may I ask, won the tournament?” Killian asked, turning to her with a raised brow and a knowing look in his eye.

Emma squirmed in her seat, fiddling with the handle of her mug.  It had been years but she still wasn’t over the whole thing.

“Anton,” she muttered.

Killian rocked back slightly, as though her answer caught him by surprise, “Anton?  The man currently behind the wheel of this bus, Anton?”

Tink was laughing and she wheezed as she answered him, “After organizing the stupid thing she was knocked out in the first round by yours truly.  Anton surprised everyone with his win.  Turns out he’s part of some big online Scrabble league.  Said it was like shooting fish in a barrel!”

Almost as soon as the words were said Emma heard a muffled bang.  At the same moment the bus started shaking violently, scattering the poker chips she’d put into meticulous piles and spilling her and Killian’s drinks causing them both to move quickly out of the way of the hot liquids.  Over the sounds of Will’s cursing, the rattling of everything that wasn’t nailed down, and a quick, rhythmic thumping from somewhere beneath her she could barely hear Anton trying to tell them something.  Crawling over Tink, who had ducked halfway under the table, she tried to stand but couldn’t keep her balance from the way that the bus was swaying.  Then a warm hand grasped her elbow and steadied her.

“It’s a blown tire, love,” Killian half yelled over the noise, still seated, “Anton will want us to remain where we are until he pulls over.”

“Okay,” she yelled back, though the racket was lessening as the bus slowed noticeably.

She debated shoving Tink aside so she could be a little safer and sit when Killian tugged on her arm.

“C’mon, Swan, best be seated-” he pulled her down to sit next to him, tucking her into his side with his arm wrapped around her waist, “I’d move over but the seat’s covered in tea.”

“It’s alright,” she croaked, her throat suddenly dry.

All too soon the bus came to a shuddering stop.  Reluctantly she pried herself from his warm embrace and stood back up, trying not to seem too disappointed to do so.  Luckily Will came stumbling towards them swearing up a storm and hopefully distracting Kilian from her slight frown.  Tink, on the other hand, was watching her with knowing eyes.

“What in the blue fuck was that?” Will said shakily, running his hands over his head and down his face.

“We’ve had a tire blowout, folks.  Everyone okay?”

Anton was lumbering his way back towards them, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead.  He was a giant of a man who scowled at anyone he didn’t know but once Emma had cracked his shell he was the sweetest man she’d ever met.  He was also the most easy going, having no problem making an unscheduled stop so she could get junk food or do a little cheesy sight seeing at a tourist trap.  She liked him so much she’d even gone so far as to put it in her touring contracts that he would always be the one behind the wheel, driving her from city to city.  The fact that he routinely kicked her ass at Words With Friends in his downtime was her only complaint against him.

“A little shaken up-” Emma grinned at Anton while Will and Tink groaned, “but no one’s hurt.  You okay?”

“Might have soiled myself a little but that’s the extent of it for me.  The rig is another story, though,” Anton sighed. “I’ve got a replacement but I’ll need to find a shop that can handle the big girl and a way to get her there.  I can almost guarantee it’ll be a few hours before I can get her back on the road.”

Emma looked at her watch and did the math, “Okay, we have five hours until sound check.  How far away are we from Dallas?”

“I know what you’re thinking but it’ll be cutting it too close and I’d like to keep my job,” Anton said with a rueful smile. “Luckily the tire blew when we happened to be passing through a good sized town.  I’ll call it in and hopefully you’ll be set up with a rental to get you the rest of the way there.”

“Oh, Regina’s gonna love this,” Tink muttered under her breath.

“Maybe we’ll get a proper manager out of it,” Will said hopefully. “Ain’t bloody right she only shows up for half the shows and bullies us at all of them.”

“It’ll be less than half this time.  She’s only gracing us with her presence in the cities she actually likes,” Emma said distractedly, looking out the windows and smiling at what she saw, “So, how long do you think we’ll have to wait for that rental car?”

“Emma-” there was a note of warning in Anton’s voice, “Please don’t get me fired.”

“Swan?” Killian asked in the same tone.

“I won’t-” she turned back to them with an exaggerated look of innocence and held up the first three fingers of her right hand, “Scout’s honor.”

“As if you were a bloody scout,” Will snorted.

She stuck her tongue out at him before turning to Anton with a grin, “Look, you’ve got calls to make and then Regina’s gonna have calls to make and I’m sure those people will have calls to make too.  That gives us at least an hour before there’s even a chance at getting that rental, right?”

Anton shook his head with a sigh, “Right.”

“And you probably won’t run the bus to keep the air going or want us hanging around annoying you while you try and get things sorted, right?”

“You’ve made your point, so make your point,” Anton said with an exasperated smile.

“There’s a convenient little strip mall over there and that big barn looking thing across from it,” she said, pointing west out the window and across the highway. “We’ll get out of your hair and stay somewhat close at the same time.  Win-win.”

Anton pinched his nose between his fingers.  Will and Tink followed her finger, looking curiously out the window but Killian was watching her.  She narrowed her eyes at him but he just smiled.

“As if you need my permission” Anton said with a snort. “Just don’t get arrested or anything.  I only want to have to listen to Regina yelling at me once today.”

“Great-” Emma gave him a wide grin, “Want me to bring you back something?”

“The biggest goddamn coffee you can find.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard, mate, this is Texas after all,” Will joked, elbowing Anton in the side.

“Get out of here before I throw you out,” Anton growled but without heat.

Less than five minutes later the four of them were walking under the highway overpass with Will and Tink complaining about the heat of the day and the circumstances that lead them there.  Emma, on the other hand, saw it as a blessing in disguise.  It was rare that she was able to get time to herself on the days she had a show.  Granted it would only be a little over an hour and she wasn’t exactly alone but it was better than sitting cooped up on the bus while everything got sorted out.

Will and Tink pulled ahead, their complaints spurring them on as Killian hung back.  Emma tried in vain to keep her pleased smile in check.

“What’s that smile for, Swan?” He asked, bending a little so he could catch her eye from under the brim of an Astros hat.

“How’d you know we’d blown a tire?” She shot back, not wanting him think he was the reason she was smiling even though he totally was.

“Had it happen a couple of times back in the day,” he said with a shrug, “The worst was when it happened once to the van Robin was driving.  We were lucky.  That day.”

A cloud passed over his face as his eyes focused somewhere ahead of them.  Wanting to kick herself for somehow sticking her foot in it again she kept her mouth shut instead.  After a few moments he tentatively touched the back of her hand.  When she looked up at him he gave her an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for the melancholy, love, can’t be helped sometimes.”

“Not your fault I’m an idiot that seems to bring it up constantly,” she said bitterly, kicking at a pebble on the ground, “I’m surprised you keep wanting to talk to me.”

He gave her a look of surprise but before he could say anything Will was shouting at them.

“Do I have to hang around with you lot or…?”

Emma quickened her steps to catch up to them, catching onto Killian’s hand at the last second to drag him with her.  When they came to a stop she let him go, even as he gave her a shy grin that she was helpless to return.  Tink cleared her throat and Emma snapped her gaze to her, feeling heat crawl up her neck at the knowing look she was giving her.

“You have your phone don’t you?” Emma asked Will pointedly, hoping that none of them made any kind of comment about anything.

“Perfect,” he said instead of answering, bouncing on his toes, “I’ll be expectin’ your call then.”

He tipped an imaginary hat at them and sauntered off in the direction of the large barn she’d seen from the bus.  She was not only surprised to see that it was an antiques mall but that that was where Will seemed to be headed.  Then she remembered that Belle’s birthday was coming up and he took great pride in finding unique and ridiculously romantic gifts for her.  It also reminded her that David’s birthday was only a couple of weeks away and it couldn’t hurt to take a look around the mall herself.

“Wait up, I’m coming with!” She called after him.

“And I spy a used book store over there so that’s where I’m headed,” Tink trilled.  She linked her arm through Killian’s, giving Emma an all too innocent grin, “Coming with Killian?  Since you were just complaining about finishing the last of the books you packed and refuse to read any of mine and all.”

“Oh, er-” he scratched behind his ear and gave her a searching look, “If that’s alright with you, Swan.”

“I’m not your babysitter,” she said with a forced laugh, glaring at Tink when Killian looked towards the strip mall where the used bookstore was, “I guess I’ll let you know when we need to go back to the bus.”

“Great!  See you in a bit!”

Emma watched as they crossed the four lane street, Tink’s arm still threaded through Killian’s.  As much as she knew Tink was doing it to annoy her she couldn’t help the stab of jealousy she felt.  With a huff at how ridiculous she was being she once again caught up with Will, who was tapping an imaginary watch as she approached.

“As if you’re ever anywhere on time,” she scoffed.

“I’m never late, everyone else is just early,” he said as he fell into step with her.

She gaped at him, “Did you- please tell me you didn’t just quote Princess Diaries.”

“Iconic film, luv,” he said sagely, “Queen Clarisse is a royal worth bendin’ the knee for.”

“You’re full of surprises, Scarlet,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Seems you are too-” he hip checked her and tipped his head in the direction Tink and Killian had gone, “Gettin’ cosy with the rock star and all.”

“No!  Nothing’s- I’m not getting cosy,” she spluttered, heat crawling up the back of her neck. “And even if I was it’s not any of your business.”

“He likes you too,” Will chuckled. “Didn’t get so defensive ‘bout it but turned about as red as you are right now.”

She stopped in her tracks, staring wide eyed and mouth open at his back as he kept walking.  He didn’t even pause to see why she was no longer at his side, merely turned on his heel and walked backwards, giving her a shit-eating grin.

“You two aren’t nearly as subtle as you think.”

By the time she scraped her jaw off the sidewalk and chased after him he’d disappeared inside the refurbished barn.  She had half a mind to hunt him down and make him explain what he meant.  Unfortunately the sheer size of the place and the dozens of aisles she could see from just inside the door had her second guessing that idea.  Figuring there would be plenty of opportunities to corner and torture him for information later she headed to her left and began perusing the vast sea of antiques before her. 

Nearly forty minutes and hundreds, if not thousands, of items later Emma found herself sitting on the floor of a promising booth.  Whoever had rented the spot was clearly a fan of music.  The temporary walls were covered with vintage tour posters for artists dating back to the forties and fifties, some of which were signed.  Most of the booth was taken up by a large locked display case that housed signed photos, early fan club collectables from bands that had become global phenomenons, and other highly coveted paraphernalia.  What had caught Emma’s eye, however, were the dozens of boxes of records and she had promptly sat herself down and began sifting through them.

She was adding a record to the small pile she’d set aside, some meant for David’s gift and some for herself, when a familiar pair of beat up converse stepped up beside her.  Not quite able to temper the giddiness she felt at Killian seeking her out she looked up at him with a grin.  It quickly faded when she saw that he was looking at something in the booth as though he’d seen a ghost.  When she craned her neck to see what he was staring at she gasped and immediately scrambled to her feet.

How she hadn’t noticed the Realm of Jewels’ tour poster was a mystery to her.  While it wasn’t front and center it was framed, having been signed by the entire band.  To make matters worse it was from their final, unfinished tour.

“Killian?” She said softly, reaching out for his hand but hesitating at the last second.

He remained unmoving, growing paler by the second.  Quickly looking around her she noticed there were several people that were wandering the aisle towards them.  She also noticed a door that was slightly ajar that looked like it led outside.  Slowly she stepped in front of him, reaching up and gently cupped his face in her hands.  After a long moment his eyes dropped to hers and his gaze was haunted.

“C’mon,” she whispered.

Sliding her hands down until her fingers wrapped around his, she waited patiently from some kind of indication that he’d heard her.  Finally he nodded, closing his eyes and taking a shuddering breath.  Not waiting another second she dropped one of his hands but kept a firm grip on the other as she guided him out the door.  As soon as she was certain that there was no one around to see them she pulled him into her arms and held him tight.  Almost immediately he reciprocated, his arms like steel bands across her back but even then she could feel him begin to shake.

Emma wasn’t sure how long they stood there, wrapped up in each other.  She would have been happy to help Killian hold himself together for however long he needed.  Slowly he calmed, his grip loosened until he was merely hugging her and his breathing evened out and remained steady.  Finally he pulled back but not away and even though she knew he hadn’t actually shed a tear his eyes were red rimmed and glassy.  She was pretty sure she looked about the same.

“I’m sor-”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she stressed, gripping the shirt at his sides in her hands, “Never about that.”

He let out an unsteady breath and gave her a short nod.  Releasing his shirt she slid her arms around him again, trying for comfort instead of sharing the burden of his pain.  Seeming to realize this he returned her hug with a gentle sigh, resting his cheek against her hair.

“Liam was the one driving,” he murmured after a moment, tightening his hold on her slightly before letting go and stepping away.  He tilted his head back and let out a harsh breath, “It was after our second show in LA and we’d been invited to some lavish party in the hills.  It was hosted by someone who had the money to keep the booze and drugs flowing and the influence to keep the police from showing up.  We’d gone to dozens of parties like that before without consequence, we had no reason to believe that night would be any different.

“We’d all partaken in the various substances that were offered and when it came time to leave we realized we were in a bit of a bind.  Liam insisted that he’d only been drinking and was sober enough to drive.  The ass even said the alphabet backwards and walked a straight line to prove it,” he scoffed, scowling. “I didn’t even question it, not really, merely put up a half hearted protest and then poured myself into the car without further thought.  Liam in the driver’s, Robin up front with me behind him and Milah behind Liam.”

Killian sighed and it sounded as though he was releasing a breath he’d been holding for over ten years.  Emma didn’t hesitate as she reached for him, relieved when his hand slid easily into hers.  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed deeply and closed his eyes.

“We were nearly back at the hotel, only a few blocks away really-” his voice wavered and she held his hand tighter, “I had picked a fight with Liam over one of the songs that was to be on our next album.  The last thing I remember was seeing his eyes in the rear mirror, giving me the annoyed glare I’d seen all my life.  That’s when… when...”

Emma watched helplessly as he pressed his lips together and looked up and away from her, as if he was trying to stave off the tears that hadn’t fallen before.  She didn’t need him to tell her the rest, she already knew.  Liam had run a red light and their rental sedan had been hit on the driver’s side by a truck going nearly fifty.  Milah had been killed on impact but Liam had lived long enough to make it to the hospital but not an operating room.  Robin and Killian had survived with a few broken bones and superficial cuts but it was clear to her that Killian was still healing.

“Never thought I’d see that poster again-” he said gruffly, half turning back towards the building, “let alone covered with our signatures.  Did you know that Liam spent hours working on his?  Claimed he wanted to be able to quickly do the autographs for fans but I suspect it was to practice his flourishes.  Always took up half the posters, the ponce.”

When he looked back at her he tried to give her a smile but it faded quickly.  She let her thumb caress the back of his hand, even though she wanted to pull him back into a hug and never let him go.

He looked down at their joined hands and gave a small huff, his grip tightening, “You’re the first person I’ve told the whole story to aside from my therapist.  The first person I’ve wanted to tell, really.”

She didn’t know what to say to that but she didn’t need to.  Killian’s eyes flickered to hers for a moment before he bent his head and brought their joined hands to his lips.  Goosebumps erupted down her arm despite the Texas heat and she couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped.  His gaze snapped back to hers and he straightened slowly, moving a step closer as he did.

For an impossibly long moment too many thoughts raced through her head, questioning what she hoped was about to happen.  The only thing that steadied her was somehow seeing the same hesitation, the same tempered desire, in Killian’s too blue eyes.  That more than anything had her reaching up with her free hand to caress his cheek before pressing up on her toes to press her lips to his.

There was no hesitation as Killian sighed into her.  His mouth was warm against hers but his hand was warmer as it slid from her hip to her lower back, pulling her close.  The surprised noise she made was lost to his groan as he deepened the kiss.  It was a sound she decided she would gladly work hard at getting him to repeat.

As she happily let herself get lost in the heady sensation of his touch she vaguely noted how he was able to make her feel as though she was vibrating.  It was another few moments before she realized that it was her phone and not just his considerable skill that was making her skin tingle. She pulled back, gasping, but kept the grip she had on his shoulder as she reached behind her.  He didn’t seem to realize what she was doing.  Instead he focused his ministrations on her neck, forcing a moan from her throat as she pulled her phone free and tapped it against the hand that was only inches from the back pocket it’d been in.

“Phone,” she protested breathlessly, even as she tilted her head to give him better access, “Killian, I gotta-”

He lifted his head and looked at her with hooded eyes that cleared marginally as he nodded.  She nearly tossed her phone to the ground when his gaze flickered to her lips and he licked his own.  The insistent buzzing in her hand was the only thing that stopped her.

Glancing at the screen she felt as though a bucket of cold water was dumped over her head at the sight of Regina’s name.  She stepped away from Killian as she swiped to answer, turning in the direction she thought their broken down bus was sitting.

“Uh, hi?”

“You and your band have ten minutes to get back to that bus.  The rental is in your name so you will be the only one driving it.  Go straight to the venue, no pit stops and no going to the hotel first.  You have three hours to sound check.”

Emma scowled at nothing as the call disconnected, annoyed that Regina hadn’t even acknowledged her in any way.  She checked the time on her phone and saw that Anton had tried to warn her with texts she’d been too wrapped up in Killian to notice.  Turning back to him her frown deepened at the sight of him rubbing his hand across the back of his neck, looking nervous.

He cleared his throat before gesturing between them, “That was...”

“A one time thing?” She asked, hating how uncertain she sounded.

“No!” He burst out, surprising her as he leapt forward and grabbed her hand.  His other hand cupped her cheek, “At least I hope not.  No, I was merely going to say that it wasn’t my intention for things to escalate as they did.  I don’t regret it, though, not one moment.”

“Me either,” she said with a smile.  He mirrored her but as he began to lean forward she stopped him with a hand on his chest, “Woah there, tiger, we’re gonna have to wait.  Regina says we need to get back to the bus.”

He lightly pressed his lips to her hairline and sighed, “That’s perhaps for the best, love, we might have scandalized the locals out in the open like this.”

She snorted a laugh and because she could she pressed a quick kiss to his lips before backing away.  He stared at her with a dazed look in his eye, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.  She let her own smile unfurl as she sent a quick text to Will and Tink to get them back to the bus.

“Come on-” she grabbed his hand and headed in the direction of the road, “I really don’t want to get on Regina’s bad side by being late to sound check.”

“Swan, wait-” he tugged on her hand, pulling her to a stop, “Didn’t you have things set aside for purchase in there?”

“Nothing important,” she said with a shrug.  He narrowed his eyes at her and she rolled hers back at him, “I promise.  Just some random records I thought might be interesting.  We don’t have time to go back and figure out where to pay for them anyway.  I was serious about Regina.”

“If you’re certain…”

“Yep, so let’s go.  We still have to get Anton’s giant coffee.”

Killian gave her another skeptical look but she ignored it, leading him back the way they’d come.

Later that night, when she dragged herself onto the repaired bus after their show, she was only mildly surprised to see the pile of records she’d left behind at the antique mall sitting on her bunk.  What was a surprise was the long stemmed red rose laying across the top of them.  Biting her lip against the grin that threatened to split her face in two she realized she couldn’t wait until the next time she would be able to get Killian alone again.

#captain swan #captain swan fan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fan fiction #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs fan fic #ouat ff #my writing

[transcendence-au]

r!Pacifica tricks Dipper into running a booth at a TwinCon. He comes across an r!Mabel and an r!Henry who meet at his booth. (Also, brownie points if it’s a Mizcor booth)They both talk about how much they love Alcor and want to date him, and Dipper helps them realize that the traits they’re projecting onto ‘Alcor’ are actually traits they can find in each other. SO WOODZAR HAS BLOSSOMED IN THE PLACE OF MIZCOR

Mod F got really excited about this and ended up writing a thing! (Here it is on AO3 too)

===

Dipper looked toward the entrance of the convention center, at the large banner proudly proclaiming “WELCOME TO TWINCON 2896″, and slammed his head face-first onto the table.

Damn Aubrey. Damn her to the deepest pits of the Nightmare Realm for making him run a booth at TwinCon. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself get taken in by her evil tricks and wily ways; couldn’t believe he made a bet with her and lost. That was the last time he trusted Pacifica’s soul. And he totally meant it this time! Way more than the last eight times Aubrey had tricked him. He definitely wasn’t going to immediately go back to being friends with her. This was the last straw.

A loud creak announced the opening of the main con doors, and the room was quickly filled with a flurry of excitement. Dipper picked his head off the table with a sigh and prepared himself for a long day of peddling garbage. He considered how he must look – a sad demon sitting under a sign reading “MICOR MEMORABILIA” and surrounded by perverse figurines, body pillows, and graphic novels.

And then his curiosity got the better of him. He conjured a mirror in his hand and immediately noticed his top hat was askew, so he reached up to straighten it out. Perfect. He actually looked pretty good that day if he did say so himself. His hair was fluffy, his suit was pressed, his teeth looked sharp. Nice and presentable. He was so busy making faces in the mirror that he almost forgot he was at a convention, until -

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Ack!” Dipper yelped in surprise, his hat shooting high into the air. Despite this, he didn’t take his eyes off the mirror. “What do you want?”

“I hope I didn’t frighten you! You’ve got some lovely merch here. I was just wondering how much this comic would cost.”

“Check the price tag,” he responded gruffly.

“I- I tried, but it doesn’t look like there is one.”

Groaning, Dipper flicked his eyes away from his own beautiful reflection so he could see exactly what depraved nonsense the voice wanted to purchase, and -

Mizar smiled sweetly back at him.

The mirror shattered in his hand. Oh no. Oh no no no no no. This wasn’t happening. Why was she here? What was going on?

“I’ve heard about this series before,” he suddenly realized Mizar was saying, “but I never had the chance to check it out before. It’s a coffee shop AU, right? It’s so inspiring that fans can take the framework of Twin Souls and make even more beautiful stories based off of it.”

Dipper’s head was too filled with buzzing to really make much sense of what she was saying. All he could think about was how his sister’s soul was apparently a fan of the worst book series in the universe. It didn’t even seem like she was doing it as a gag like Mabel did – the girl in front of him was radiating nothing but enthusiasm and sincerity in her aura.

“Oh, I’ve read that!” another voice piped in. “It’s dope as fuck, although the first volume’s got a bit of a Woodzar focus. But if you can power through that, it’s high key Micor there on out.”

Okay okay okay. He could do something about this. Maybe he’d take Mizar aside and have a talk with her about why being a Twin Souls fan was a sin of the highest calibre. Dipper tore his eyes away from her for a moment to tell the newcomer to go away, but no sooner did he get a good look at them than he felt all the air kicked out of his imaginary lungs.

“Don’t get me wrong, man,” Henry’s soul continued, a sly look on her face. “Woodzar is a fine ship. There’s a lot of good Woodzar fic out there and I don’t fault anyone for writing it. But if we’re gonna be honest with ourselves, it’s pretty obvious that Alcor and Mizar belong together. Their romantic chemistry is off the goddamn charts. Remember when they finally kissed in the first novel? Oh, fuckin’ heart palpitations, man.”

The blood drained from Dipper’s face. What in the world was happening? Why were Mizar and Henry both Twinners? What was the universe punishing him for this time??

“I know, right?” Mizar replied with a giggle. “My name’s Minty, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

Henry’s soul grinned back. “Halley. Nice to meet you too. I knew coming to this con would be a good idea – it’s the perfect place to find like minded people.”

“What about you?” Minty asked, and it took Dipper a minute – so embroidered was he in querying his omniscience to see exactly what traumatizing thing had happened to Minty and Halley that made them turn out this way – to realize that she was talking to him.

“I, uh, I’m… not a… Micor is bad,” he said finally.

Halley frowned. “What, don’t you love Alcor too? You’re running a booth at TwinCon and your cosplay is on-point! That suit must’ve been expensive, and the wings look almost real!”

Puffs of steam shot out from Dipper’s ears and he flared his wings. “It’s not a cosplay, I just look like this! And I’ll have you know that I would’ve never in a million years gone to a TwinCon if my friend Aubrey hadn’t pretended to be really bad at hula hooping and then made a bet with me that she could beat me in a hula hoop contest and then absolutely kicked my ass into the stratosphere with her nutty good hooping! Graggh!” He slammed his forehead into the table again.

“Awwww,” Minty cooed. “Stage fright is the worst. I know I sure was nervous the first time I went to a con in full cosplay. That was awful nice of your friend to convince you to go anyway!”

Dipper’s head shot up and he stared slack-jawed at the two of them just as Halley nodded. “You’ve got this man, you know? Like I said, your outfit kicks ass. And hey, thanks for opening up to us. That can’t have been easy.”

“B- but I- you WHAT-” Dipper stammered.

Minty squeaked and clapped her hands together. “Yeah! I feel like I’ve made some great friends at this con already.”

“I’m- n- no you’re WILDLY mistaken- this isn’t-”

Both Halley and Minty turned their backs to the increasingly flustered demon and leaned against the stall, looking off into the rest of the hall with pensive expressions. “Friends are nice,” Halley murmured, “but what I wouldn’t give to meet Alcor at this convention. He’s everything I want in a partner. And then I wouldn’t be so lonely anymore.”

Minty put her hand on Halley’s shoulder. “I know what you mean! He’s so confident and protective. Loyal to a fault. If Alcor was here, I’d ask him on a date!”

“What makes you think Alcor wants to date any of you humans?” Dipper grumbled. “Or anyone at all?”

“Don’t be such a pessimist, man!” Halley responded. She patted Dipper on the back, surprising him into coughing out a little cloud of yellow sparkles. “Alcor is real and he’s out there. As long as there’s the smallest spark of hope that he might love me back, I’ll follow him to the ends of the Earth!”

Minty slapped her forehead, startling Dipper out of the silent terror written all over his face. “Oh, duh! He’s cosplaying as Alcor because he’s here to find his Miiiizar! That’s why he’s not interested in Alcor’s love! I connected the dots!”

“No, you haven’t connected anything!” Dipper tried to cut in, terror returning in full force because the situation was spiralling rapidly out of control, but Minty kept going.

“Ah, if only I was Mizar,” she trilled as Dipper watched her soul dance traitorously in her chest. “Then it’d only be a matter of time before Alcor came to ask me out. We’d go to the coffee shop he works at and someone would cover his shift. I’d get a hot chocolate; he, an iced latte.” She sat on the table, sending a set of Mizar action figures toppling over onto Dipper’s lap. “I’d tell him all about how art school’s going and he’d confide in me some dark secrets about how the 2801 moon landing was faked because giant aliens were playing golf with the planets and accidentally knocked the moon into a black hole. And then, finally, he’d give me a dainty kiss on the cheek, and I’d make a little squeaky noise, yknow, and he’d blush and ask me if it was alright for him to do that, and then I’d say I’d rather you kiss me on the lips instead. And then -”

“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough of your fanfiction!” Dipper shouted, cheeks going completely scarlet, claws making deep gashes in the table from how tightly he was gripping it. “I didn’t- I’ve never- No one needed to hear that, it’s- I feel lightheaded.”

“I know what you mean, man,” Halley spoke up, an obvious wobble to her tone. Dipper and Minty looked up to see her staring off into the distance, eyes red and puffy, hands crossed over her heart. “I’m feeling it too. That was so beautiful, Minty, you sure as hell have got a way with words. And yknow, I- I work in a coffee shop, actually. I’d totally take Alcor there. We’d talk and laugh – damn, he’s gotta just have the most heartwarming laugh in the world – and I’d straight up offer right there on the spot to be his Mizar. I wanna protect the world, but I also wanna protect him, I know he’s got a sensitive side, I just know it. I’d chew steel for him.”

No no no no. This had to stop. Mind racing, Dipper struggled to find something they’d said to latch onto. “Hey, uh, Minty!” he interrupted. “You like coffee shops, right? Halley… works in one! You should go there with her. Instead of being here.”

“That’s a great idea!” Minty squealed. “We should all meet up for coffee after the convention!”

“No!” Dipper blurted. “I meant, you two should go. Together. Without me.” All he got in return was blank stares. He ran his hand through his bangs nervously. “Listen, Minty, Alcor doesn’t work at a coffee shop, because no one in the country will hire him. His claws make awful screeching noises on the mugs, and also he’s a demon. But Halley does work at a coffee shop. Maybe… there’s something there?”

Minty and Halley traded glances. “I don’t understand,” the former finally said.

Dipper facepalmed. “Okay. How about… Halley, you want to protect Alcor. That’s ridiculous, he doesn’t need protecting, he has so much magic. But Minty goes to art school, she probably needs someone to, I dunno, support her during tight deadlines. That’s like… mental health protection.”

Minty shrugged. “I guess that sounds nice…”

“And, uh, Minty, you want someone who’s loyal, which sounds to me like what you really need is a dog, not a romantic partner, and I’m not- Alcor is not a dog. Also, again, he’s a demon, he’s only loyal to himself. But if you’re really set on getting that kind of loyalty and trust from a sentient creature, well, Halley’s offered to chew steel for love.”

“Hey man, don’t put words in my mouth, I said I’d chew steel for Alcor,” Halley countered, putting her hands on her hips and staring Dipper down. After a moment, though, she looked back at Minty, who had a starstruck look on her face, and drew back. “I- I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like you Minty. I just don’t want to be alone anymore. How can I trust someone other than Alcor not to get tired of me?”

“Kinda toxic, but also big mood,” Dipper muttered. “Trust isn’t something you can or even should have for people you don’t know. Not just for romance – in any kind of relationship, trust is something you build up through getting to know someone. I should know; there’ve been so many times when I made the mistake of trusting someone – say, not to snuggle body pillows with half naked pictures of me on them – without even knowing them, just because of my preconceived notions about who those people are. Relationships are always a risk, but they’re worth it when they work out. You’ll miss out if you’re too afraid to take that risk.”

He beamed at them, extremely proud of his little speech he’d managed to pull together. Minty and Halley stared back, mouths agape, probably blown away by his emotional maturity.

Then they launched themselves at each other and started furiously making out.

“Oh my stars!” Dipper yelled, recoiling from the mass of flailing limbs. “You literally just met each other! Go get a coffee or something first, holy shit!”

They broke apart, faces red but grinning. “Wow,” Minty breathed.

“Yeah. Wow,” Halley echoed. “Um, would you maybe want to walk around the convention with me? And maybe go get some coffee together afterward? I do work at a coffee shop nearby.”

Minty squealed again and grabbed Halley’s hands. “That sounds wonderful!”

“Yo, dude,” Halley said to Dipper, who was clutching his chest and hyperventilating. “Thanks for the advice. You’ve got some dope emotional maturity. Your friends are lucky to know you.”

Dipper, still trying to calm down, opened his mouth to make some words and only managed to emit a weak gurgle. He settled for giving them a nod.

The two of them started to walk away, but Minty paused and turned back. “Oh wait. We never got your name.”

“I’m Alcor the Dreambender,” Dipper grunted without a second’s pause. “Go away.”

Halley laughed. “Sure you are. You’re really committed to the character, I love it! Maybe we’ll see you around.”

Dipper gave them a strangled half-smile and waved them off, to which they finally made their departure. Finally alone, he collapsed onto the table out of exhaustion. He was relieved that he’d managed to turn Mabel and Henry’s souls away from being Micor shippers, but after a few minutes of lying there the reality of what he’d just done started to sink in.

“Oh stars, I just shipped my sister and her husband,” he moaned. “What is my life. Please, universe, let me get through the rest of the day without anything else happening. Please.”

Naturally, someone immediately started talking to him. “Yo, sleeping guy, wake up.”

“Whatever it is, please just use the credit card swiper and move on,” he responded.

“Dude, what swiper. Help me out.”

With a groan, Dipper picked his head up, and then he froze, his every hair standing on end like a terrified cat.

“This body pillow rocks,” Soos’s soul said, hugging one of the models that had both Alcor and Mizar on it, half naked and blushing. “You gotta hook me up.”

“Ohhhh, I have that pillow! You won’t regret it!” came another voice, and Dipper looked over to see Melody’s soul walking up to the table. “You’ve got good taste. Micor forever, am I right? Bro, there’s some really good smutfic I could recommend you if you’re interested.”

Dipper slid out of his chair and curled up into a ball under the table. “Damn you Aubrey,” he whispered. “I’ll fucking get you back for making me do this.”

(As it turned out, giving Aubrey a dream about being stuck at a convention where everyone was attracted to her did not adequately “get back” at her, and it was a full week before she stopped laughing about it.)

#fic #dipper #mabel #henry #pacifica #soos #melody #reincarnation #twin souls #mod f #Anonymous

[tsumtsum-into-omiomi]

CHAPTER THREE: LUNCH TIME

warning(s): cursing

word count: 1.5k

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AO3

The lunch traffic in the dining hall right now is no joke. You are squeezing through hundreds of hungry students trying to look for Suna, who is supposedly saving a seat for you somewhere. Well, he better. You bought him the bento that he wanted, so the least he could do is find a place for you to eat your lunch together.

Slipping past some familiar faces with a "hi" and avoiding the rest, you manage to get to your usual table at the end of the hall only to find Suna missing. You click your tongue while turning around to see if he is nearby. Maybe he was too late to get that table and chose another one.

However, instead of Suna, you see Kita making his way towards you through the crowd.

"Miya," he greets.

"Yo, Kita-san. What's up?" you play it cool while your heart thumps loudly in your chest.

"I need to talk with you about the festival," he informs, hand reaching into his bag for a file holder.

"Oh, right! I was gonna look for you to sign up," you rummage through your backpack to look for a pen.

Kita hands you a piece of form, "the twins have signed up for you. They're just not sure what's your student ID and I need your signature too."

You roll your eyes, "when will they ever stop making decisions for me?"

"I thought you wanna go?" Kita frowns.

"I am. But, the fact that they still sign these things up for me..." you accept the form Kita offered, "I can do it on my own. I'm in my fourth year already, y'know?"

Kita smiles, "I think they just want to make sure that you come. They said something about turning it into a family trip?"

It's your turn to frown at Kita, "this is literally a school thing. What the hell are those two thinking?”

The guy shrugs, "well, you know them."

"They're embarrassing," you shake your head, filling up whatever boxes the twins have left empty.

"And you're one of them too," Kita reminds. You look at him to rebut but unable to find the right words. He's right.

With a sheepish smile, you hand the form back to him, “I'm sorry that there are three of us now in the club.”

"At least you're polite,” he takes the form back and slides it into his file holder. “Thanks.”

“Only with you,” you think, remembering Atsumu and Osamu’s advice not to cross him. And also because you want to be on his good side.

“No problem. By the way, isn't there a fee?” you ask while searching through your backpack again to find your wallet.

Kita raises a hand up, telling you it's fine, “your brothers paid for you already.”

You stop in your track, “oh.” Whatever ill feelings you had for the twins just now disappeared, replaced by some sort of comfort.

“Have you had lunch?” he questions.

“I'm actually looking for Suna. We're supposed to eat together.”

“I saw him with your brothers around here just now. I'm joining them.”

“Oh, cool. Let's go together then.”

Kita nods and starts surfing through the crowd with you behind him. You follow closely, not wanting to lose him but in the middle of all those uniformed students, Kita starts to look no different from the others.

Out of nowhere, someone bumps into you, knocking you out of your path and you are disoriented for a moment. Gathering yourself back quickly, you found your footing again in no time, but Kita has dissolved into the mass. Alarmed by the sudden lost, you look around like a nervous chick trying to find its mom, drowned in the sea of people.

“Oi.”

You feel someone nudging your arm. It's Osamu, with a tray of food in his hands. You sigh in relief to see him. He juts his mouth out towards your east, pointing at where he's sitting at. You can see a blotch of gray hair and hear Atsumu’s laugh  now.

“Can’t  believe I lost Kita-san in the crowd. We were together!” you grumble, resuming your walk with Osamu.

“You lost him or did he leave you?” he teases.

“No way he'd leave me,” you glare at him even though his words made your heart sink.

“Kidding! That's why I said, it's a lost cause. I've never seen him lay his eyes on anyone. And knowing how useless you are around your crushes... it's not gonna go anywhere."

Osamu's truthful words cause you to press your lips together in annoyance. You wanted to respond but the both of you have arrived at the six-seater table to join Atsumu, Suna and Kita.

"See if he even realises that you were separated just now," Osamu adds in a whisper.

“Shut up," you cut the conversation off, not wanting anyone to hear.

“Just sayin’,” he shrugs his shoulders and takes the seat beside Kita.

“Samu-nii!” you hiss at him, giving a hint that you want to sit there.

“What?” he frowns.

“Dumb ass," you curse under your breath before making your way round the table to occupy the vacant chair in front of Osamu instead.

He looks at you with a silent "oh", realising what you meant seconds too late. You roll your eyes at him, pulling out two meal boxes from your backpack and giving one of them to Suna, who is sitting beside you.

"Ugh, you stuffed my lunch into your bag again," he whines, taking the slightly crumpled container from you.

"Sorry," you utter.

"As if you are," Suna opens his box with a small scowl.

"Shut it, I had to queue for 15 minutes to get that," you slam a pair of disposable chopsticks in front of Suna, warning him not to complain further. You would like to focus on your food now, which is also attracting Atsumu at the end of the table. He comes to stand beside you, bending down to inspect the bento.

"What did you get?" he bothers.

"Definitely not your food," you retort, feeding a piece of karaage chicken into your mouth.

"Just a bit, pleaaaaase," Atsumu tries.

"Where's your food?" you grunt, passing your chopsticks to him anyway. Plus, you kind of feel guilty now for crashing his presentation earlier.

"I ate already," he replies, taking a big bite of your rice and chicken.

You smack his shoulder, "are you fucking kidding me?"

"That's good," Atsumu comments, eyes travelling to Osamu's plate now.

"Don't you fucking dare," Osamu pulls his tray closer to him, trying to protect his lunch from Atsumu.

"Your food looks shit, I don't want it anyway," Atsumu sticks his tongue out.

"Miya," Kita interferes and the three of you go quiet. None of you knows which Miya he's referring to but that's definitely a cue to stop bickering. "Can we have a nice lunch, please?"

"Yes, Kita-san," the twins and you answer at the same time in obedience. Atsumu returns to his seat with a sour face, deciding that Osamu's egg rolls that he wanted are not worth the risk of pissing Kita off.

"Which school is hosting the festival this year?" Osamu then prompts.

"Fukurodani, right?" you recall the school name that was printed on the form you filled up earlier.

"Yes," Kita confirms, "Fukurodani Academy."

“Fukurodani’s cool,” Suna compliments, “but I wonder if they can top Seijoh’s festival last year.”

“Oh yes, that was fun!” Atsumu seconds him. He stares into the distance for a second to think, “the only downside was how they only let fourth year students and above to join the contests. The festival's great but last year was definitely the best for me. The duels were crazy, man.”

“Nice. I can join those then!" your excitement is apparent.

"Yeah, you chose the right time to join us," Atsumu echoes.

"What's the festival like?” you gauge, wanting to get an idea since it will be your first time going this year.

“Dude, you're gonna like the festival so much,” Osamu hypes, “it's a weekend full of workshops, pentagram duels, awesome food and pop-up booths selling all sorts of stuff. They always have very rare potion ingredients! Well, it's called the Potions Festival for a reason lol.”

“You’ll meet lots of crazy powerful people too. Remember that clean freak guy who kicked your ass when you dueled him last year?" Suna elbows Atsumu, directing the question to the blonde guy.

Atsumu stays quiet. He slumps in his seat and plays mindlessly with the paper trash of Suna's disposable chopsticks cover.

"No? The one who always had a mask on all the time?" Suna continues. All eyes are on Atsumu now but his mouth remains shut.

"He had like two moles on his forehead, I think?" Suna does not give up and so does Atsumu.

"With wav--"

"I know. He had wavy hair," Atsumu finally speaks, flicking the paper in his hand away. It's subtle, but you could hear the lamentation in his voice.

And you wonder why.

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AO3

#Miya Atsumu #Miya Osamu #atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu x reader

[let-it-raines]

For catch me if you can, I'd really love to see something about them having a second kid since I know you mentioned it before. Maybe something about how Emma's pregnancy is different now that Killian's retired! Thank you for all of your wonderful words!!!!!!

I am forever and always amazed by the love and support that the Catch Me If You Can universe receives, and I love that you guys let me get these words out of my head and onto the page...or the screen. 

So here’s just a day in the life for these two that definitely alludes to some things that happen in their future!

on ao3 | here | if that’s more your jam. 

-/-

July 2025

Killian doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He’s cleaned the house. Every damn floor. That includes dusting the shutters and scrubbing the baseboards and running the vacuum twice before cleaning all of the hardwood and tile.

All of the beds are made, which is not an easy feat for how many pillows Emma likes to put on their bed, and all of Jace’s toys are in their containers. Killian knows that they’ll all be dumped out later, probably as soon as Jace wakes up from his nap, but it’s nice for once to not be worried about stepping on something and for his living room to not be a disaster.

Jace is one of the best things to ever happen to him, but Killian is still not used to how everything is beyond messy all of the time.

But not now.

Though, if it was still messy, at least he’d have something to do.

He’s cleaned the house, worked out, paid bills, set out chicken to defrost for dinner, and now, all he has to do is watch the game.

That’s not necessarily what he wants to be doing right now.

Not when he’s not the one on the mound or in the dugout and not when he still recognizes over half the faces in Yankees uniforms.

He could still be playing. He could. His arm hasn’t hurt in awhile, but that’s because he hasn’t been pitching several days a week and doing training and playing games. He has given his body the rest it needs, but damn if he doesn’t still ache.

It was his decision. He wanted it. It’s for the best.

Watching this season, though, not having any kind of regular job or connection or part of the team, is fucking weird.

But he watches because he loves the game and loves Will and Eric and Robin and all of the other guys on the team.

He watches because he likes to listen to his wife kick ass as a commentator.

She does every single time. Sighing, Killian puts the vacuum on its dock in the closet and then walks over into the living room, plopping down on the couch and turning the volume up. They’re in the bottom of the sixth, the Yankees are winning, and he hears Emma telling some story about Will that he knows is one of the age-old tales that publicists feed commentators so they have something to say to fill dead air-time.

Emma hates having to use those, but she tries not to let too much of her own personal connection with the players in.

That doesn’t really work when fifty percent of what she’s asked about has to do with him. She says it doesn’t bother her, that she’s proud to be his wife and to get to tell stories of all of her seasons with him, but there’s this small part of him that will always hate whenever anyone makes her career about him. They’re intertwined, yes, but Emma has always stood out.

His phone rings in his lap, and Killian slides his finger across the screen.

“Hey, A.”

“Hey,” Ariel says, “did you get any of my emails today?”

“I haven’t checked. Why? What’s up?”

“I sent you some stuff about interviews. Fallon and Meyers both want you on. GMA and Kelly and Ryan want you and Emma on.”

“For what? We’re not promoting anything, and you know we’re keeping Emma away from as many cameras as possible.”

“She’s literally on TV right now.”

“You know they only shoot from the shoulders up most of the time, unless it’s a rain delay or something.”

“They can do that on these shows.”

“With all of the crew that’s on those sets?” Killian clicks his tongue and stretches his arms above his head. “I don’t know. I have to talk to Emma. Why do they want us on, again?”

“It seems the two of you have become very popular on the internet because of a Buzzfeed article.”

“What the hell?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s weird, but it’s one of those where they talk about reasons to watch sports, and then they list a bunch of attractive athletes. You’re on the list, and the author attached a link or whatever to some article about you, Emma, and Jace. It’s kind of blown up into its own thing. How have you not seen it?”

“Woah, woah, woah, do these people not realize I’m retired? They can’t watch me play unless they want to watch old games.”

“You’re literally missing the entire point.”

“No, I got it, A.”

“So will you do the shows?”

“Eh,” he groans, running his hand through his hair, “that sounds a little too gimmicky to me, especially the morning show ones, and I told you I have to run it by Emma before I let you run with it.”

“Look, I get it,” Ariel sighs, and he has a feeling she’s about to do some of her famous convincing. “You’re a manager’s dream, Killian Jones, but you’re also my worst nightmare. I know you don’t like actually saying it, even though you just did, but you’re retired now. You’re going to have money coming in forever no matter what, but it wouldn’t help to grease the wheels a little bit, keep your star power alive while you stay under the radar figuring out the next big thing for you. I’m just saying that this could be good for the both of you. I’ll even make it so that the questions can’t be too invasive.”

“How are they not going to be invasive? They’re literally asking about my personal life. That’s why they want me on the shows.”

“I have my magic ways.”

Killian groans and leans back on the couch, running his hands through his hair and pinching his nose. “We’re keeping this pregnancy quiet as long as possibly can. The only way either of us would possibly agree to it is careful camera angles and no mention of the pregnancy.”

“How would they mention the pregnancy if they don’t know about it?”

“Well, someone could see. Look, I don’t know. I’ll run it by Emma tonight, okay?”

Ariel’s sigh is deep on the other end of the phone, and he knows that she gets it, even if she’s exasperated with him. It’s been happening a lot more lately with her trying to learn to manage him when he’s not always in the clubhouse or on the plane, and the adjustment period is still new.

All of this is.

“She’s going to say no.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know the two of you, I do. Is there any way I could convince you to do it, just you?”

Killian chuckles and rolls his eyes. He wouldn’t be opposed to going on a few late night shows. Those were always a good time. He’s just not going to have his life be put on a public platter without talking to his wife first. “Bye, A. Go bother your husband.”

“He’s kind of in the middle of a game right now in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I’m sure you can still find a way to bother him.”

She scoffs. “I will hear from you by the morning, you asshole. Goodbye.”

And then the line goes dead.

Bloody frustrating woman.

Emma’s voice echoes from the television, and Killian turns his attention back to the game. From all accounts, this seems like any other run of the mill game where everything has been average. It’s not a blow out, there aren’t any spectacular plays, and it’d be a good game to put on for a nap.

Maybe that’s what he should be doing with his free time.

He should have done that earlier, though, because he knows that Jace will be up soon.

“My husband won three World Series in what a lot of people consider a very short career for a pitcher. I don’t think you can say that’s normal. There’s only a handful of men born in the last few decades that can say that, actually.”

“Of course,” Isaac adds, “but with the way you say it, you act as if he won all of those on his own.”

Oh fucking hell. Isaac and James need to go to another team or another network. Killian’s never listened to them much since he used to watch games on mute, but damn, it’s like they don’t know how to talk positively about anyone. Is that what viewers want?

“I have never once said that,” Emma corrects, tense. “It’s always been a team effort. The starting pitcher doesn’t even play the entire game, but you implied that my husband was a mediocre player when he was anything but. Of course, he had help. Will Scarlet, for instance, helped Killian in every game. These teams are like puzzles, and you have to have all of the pieces to get the end goal. But, I mean, damn, can we go one game without you interrogating me on Killian’s stats? He was a damn good player, and nothing is going to change that.”

“You don’t have to get so emotional about it. I’m simply doing my job.”

Fuck you, Isaac.

“Alright,” Emma sighs, the camera now showing them in the booth. She’s smiling, and to the rest of the world, she looks like she always does, but there’s a tightness in the tug of her lips that he doesn’t like. “Let’s look at a play of the game presented by Chase.”

And then the screen cuts to a double play from earlier, and Killian mutes the television and stands up. What just happened isn’t going to go over well with the network, and he already knows Emma isn’t going to be home late.

Killian sighs and walks upstairs until he gets to Jace’s room. Jace is standing up in his crib trying to climb over it, and when he looks up and sees Killian, he plops back down and pretends that he wasn’t just trying to do some kind of Mission Impossible escape. They’ve got to think about moving the kid to a bed soon. All of the books say he needs to be a little older, but Killian thinks Jace might be ready.

He and Emma likely are not.

“What are you doing there, lad?” Killian laughs, leaning against the doorframe.

“Sleeping.”

“With your eyes open?”

Jace giggles and closes his eyes, cheesing like he does every time Emma tries to get him to pose for a picture. The blue of his eyes disappears into thin lines. “We play ball?”

“How are you going to play ball with your eyes closed?”

One eye slowly opens before the other joins in. “I play baseball.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Killian sighs, walking into the room and reaching into the crib to grab Jace, kissing his cheek before brushing his curls off his forehead. “We will go and play baseball, and then we’re going to cook some dinner for Mommy. Does that sound good? Dinner?”

“Pizza?”

“No, lad, not pizza. We can have some chicken though.”

Jace pouts.

“Yeah, I know. Pizza is better than chicken, but it’s all about balance, my boy.”

Killian and Jace go through their post naptime routine before Killian grabs the soft baseball they use with him and they walk out to their back patio. They have a little bit of green space back here, would have more if Killian would take the time to landscape and reorganize their furniture, and the thought has him making a mental checklist of that being his project for tomorrow.

Scratch that. Today is the end of the series, and Emma will be home for the next few days without having to go into the office or into the stadium. They could do it together, but he told her they’d have a day where they do absolutely nothing.

He intends to stick to that promise even if it’s nearly impossible for him to sit still.

He plays catch with Jace, which mostly consists of Jace tossing the ball up at such an angle that it immediately hits the ground and then drops dead. It’s that over and over again, but this tires the kid out and is something he genuinely enjoys. Killian will do absolutely anything in the world to make his son smile, and if that means chasing after a ball for an hour, he’ll do it.

That also means that when Jace gets exhausted while Killian is cooking dinner that he’ll deal with the meltdown and try to calmly explain to a toddler that it’s okay that the blue marker isn’t anywhere to be found because he can color with all of the others.

That doesn’t really fly when all he wants is a blue marker.

Obviously, he’s really knocking this whole dad thing out of the park.

The alert on Killian’s phone goes off, and he pulls up the camera to see Emma pulling into the garage. He opens his mouth, about to tell Jace that Emma’s home, but he decides to let it be a surprise. Maybe that way the kid will get out of his funk for a moment and be happier.

Or he’ll have a meltdown in front of Emma.

At this point it’s really a guessing game.

In a few minutes, Killian hears the sound of her footsteps on the stairs, and then she’s rounding the corner and moving into the kitchen. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, loose pieces around the front framing her face, and she’s not wearing any shoes. When she left the house today she was in heels and her hair was cascading down her back in waves, and if he couldn’t see the bags under her eyes and see the tightness in her smile, he’d know she was tired from her change in attire.

“Mommy,” Jace squeals when he looks up and sees her. Killian steps away from the salad he’s fixing and helps Jace down, and then he’s running toward Emma and waiting for her to pick him up. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby,” she sighs, kissing his cheek and brushing his curls back. “I missed you. Did you and Daddy have a good day?”

He eagerly nods his head, and Killian lets out a little sigh of relief. Maybe he’s not fucking this whole parenting thing up as much as he constantly thinks he is.

He’s not Brennan. He’s never going to be Brennan. But damn if he doesn’t still think he’s going to find other ways to screw his kids up.

Killian goes back to cutting up strawberries and Emma and Jace talk, and before he knows it, she’s walking over to him. He twists his head in anticipation, and Emma brushes her lips over the corner of his mouth before managing to plant a firmer kiss.

“Hi.”

“Hi. How was your day?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll tell you about it later. What are we having for dinner?”

“The Italian chicken and some salad. I can pop some bread in the oven if you want me to.”

“I really need the carbs.”

“Then bread it is.”

“Thank you,” she sighs before adjusting Jace on her hip and then setting him back down on the barstool. “Look at this beautiful drawing. You know, I found a blue marker in my purse today. I think it might belong to you.”

Emma Jones, always saving the day.

They eat dinner, exchanging their normal small pleasantries, talking about their days without really talking about them. It’s not unusual for Emma to still take awhile to figure out how she wants to phrase things and open up about them, but it’s been awhile since it’s been like this, especially because he knows she didn’t have a good day.

Maybe she doesn’t want them to have to talk in front of Jace.

So they don’t.

They eat and do the dishes and then settle down in front of the television. Jace will only watch the Trolls movie at the moment. It doesn’t matter what iteration, as long as it’s got brightly colored singing creatures in it, and Killian tries to pay attention. He really does. But he’s distracted by a group text with the team as they discuss dinner plans for tomorrow on their day off. He’s still included in the group, even when most of it doesn’t pertain to him anymore, and he gets caught up trying to convince them to all go for pizza since Jace mentioned it earlier and it sounds damn good. He doesn’t need to be eating that, but for all that he still works out, he might deserve it.

Emma will definitely want it.

Or maybe not. He’s not sure when food is going to repulse her or not.

“Hey, sweetheart, do you – ”

Killian looks up from his phone, and he sees that Emma’s slumped down into the couch cushions, her chest rising and falling, and she and Jace are asleep.

She’s going to kill her neck if she falls asleep like that.

“Love,” he whispers, nudging her until her eyes blink open. “Hey, let me have Jace, and I’ll put him to bed. You can go upstairs, yeah?”

She nods and helps get Jace off of her until he’s in Killian’s arms and Emma is sleepily walking upstairs. He follows, turning for Jace’s room while Emma heads to theirs, and even though it only takes him five minutes to get Jace down, Emma is already in bed when he makes it to their bedroom.

Silently, he crawls onto the mattress, raising the comforter and settling underneath it as he inches closer to Emma until her back is pressed into his chest and her feet are tucked between his calves. She’s got socks on, thankfully, so it’s not like there’s ice against is skin for once. Emma sighs back into him, reaching back and grabbing his arm to wrap it around the slight roundness of her stomach. It’s a feeling he’s not quite used to yet, but it’s something he’s searched for since the moment Emma’s test came back positive.

This time he feels much more prepared, like he knows far more than any book or class can teach him, but it doesn’t stop the ache in the pit of his stomach the contradicts the warmness of his heart.

Killian sighs and presses his lips to the side of Emma’s neck while his fingers trace against her stomach, his hand moving until he can maneuver himself under her shirt and feel the heat of her skin.

Emma places her hand over his, squeezing, and for awhile, he waits for her to speak, for her to set the pace and unfurl what’s on her mind.

As her breathing evens, he’s not sure that time will ever come.

“I am so tired,” she finally whispers. “I am tired down to my bones and keep waiting for that fucking second trimester energy to start, but it hasn’t. So I’m tired but I get up anyway because I have things to do here and a job, which I swear is sucking my soul out of me.”

“What happened, love?”

“Did you watch the game?”

“Bits and pieces, but I heard enough.”

She scoots back, more firmly pressing herself into him, and her hair tickles his nose, the scent of her shampoo surrounding him.

“Was I wrong to want to do this? Should I have stayed where I was? I had so much more control there. Yeah, I was basically just the pretty face they used for men to stare at, but I had a say in what I said and who I worked with. When people hated me, I didn’t have to hear about it because I wasn’t sitting in the booth next to them. How long am I just going to be the woman who doesn’t belong? The woman who is only there because of who her husband is? And I just know it’s going to go over fantastic when I finally tell everyone I’m pregnant. I have a feeling I’m not going to be able to hide it from anyone but Jace soon.”

Killian swallows and strokes her stomach as he kisses her neck again. He doesn’t know how to make this better. He never has.

“You got that job without me. You know that, right? You already had your foot in the door.”

“Killian, I know, but no one has ever seen me that way. I might as well be a star on the Real Housewives of New York.”

“That would technically be me in this situation.”

Emma laughs, and God, that’s a good sound to hear. “Ah, yes, I hear quite a lot about you being the one who is at home with our kid. It’s almost like you’re a dad.”

“Shocker, isn’t it? A dad spending time with his kid? Raising him? Being there?”

“It’s revolutionary,” she chuckles, turning and twisting around until she’s facing him and her nose is brushing against his. “I know I got the job on my own. I know I’m smart and capable and a damn badass, even if saying that makes me a little less of one. But sometimes I just wish that things were a little easier, that I worked with people I liked again. Babe, I think I would do horrible things to have you in that booth with me.”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, would it be so crazy?” She runs her hands up his side until she’s caressing one side of his face, nails curling back into his hair. “We’ve talked about it before. You expressed interest in it. And come on, I know you love staying home with Jace, but you can’t tell me you’re not itching to be doing something else.”

“Well, Ariel did call and ask if we’d go on several talk shows today.”

Her brows pinch together. “Why?”

“Apparently there was some list about attractive baseball players – ”

“Did that stroke your ego?”

“Eh, maybe a little,” he teases, kissing her nose. “But it’s something about the two of us now being in the spotlight again and a few people had reached out to her. I said I’d ask you, but I figured the answer would be no. Then today happened, and I knew it would.”

“Yeah, I’m not doing anything extra. You can go if you want.”

“I might like it, depending on what they ask and who the other guests are. Maybe I can go on one of the shows and see if they’re doing a cooking segment that day.”

“Oh, can you bring me back food?”

“Yeah, Swan, I can.” Her eyes flutter closed and Killian leans back a bit. “I will think about it, okay?”

“About what?”

“Seeing if the network would have any interest in me working with you. Not this year, I think. I want to be home with Jace and whoever this new little one is as much as I can. And Ariel has me doing events and still working with charities, and most weeks, I’m busy enough. I mean, today I was bored out of my mind, but I think working with you would be bloody wonderful. That way we’d be on a similar schedule and still have time for our family. And I guess it could keep me connected to the game, since I still haven’t quite figured out how I wanted to do that.”

“Whatever makes you happy,” Emma promises opening her eyes. “Don’t do it for me, yeah?”

“Emma – ”

“No, I’m serious, don’t do it for me. I only want it to be something you want. Killian, if you want to spend the rest of your life knitting with a group of old women, you can do that. Your career has allowed us that, but if you want to stay in this world of baseball, we can find a way for that.”

Killian blinks, swallowing the lump in his throat as his hand brushes over Emma’s hip, holding her close to him. “Are you happy, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, “I am. I’m also still exhausted. I think I’ll have to conquer sexism in sports tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow is your day off.”

“Then the next day then.” She pats his cheek and dips her head down to lightly brush her mouth of his, a feeling as familiar as anything else in the world. “I love you, Jones. Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being there for me, no matter what. I have a lot of people who are like that for me now, but I haven’t always. I mean, you know. You get it.”

“Aye, I do.” Killian hugs her closer and feels her stomach press against his. It won’t be so small soon and so much will change, but for right here and right now, that’s a worry for another day. “Thank you for being that person for me, Emma. Are you ready to go to sleep? Or would you be up for some brownies I made earlier?”

“I would be up for you bringing me some brownies in bed.”

“You’re going to get crumbs on the sheets.”

“It’ll be worth it.” She kisses him again, this time slower, softer. “I’ll do the laundry.”

Killian lets out a low whistle. “You really know how to convince a man.”

-/-

-/-

@mrtinski @bluewildcatfanatic @killianswannn @sherifemma @onepunintendid @authorarsinoe @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @galadriel26 @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @carpedzem @tornadoamy @captainkillianswanjones

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan

[ninaahelvar]

Marry Me

Summary: Owen had always thought she looked beautiful in white - but he had never seen Claire look like she was an angel before. She was breathtaking in her wedding gown. And she wasn’t his.

AO3

A/N: Inspired by the song 'Marry Me' by Thomas Rhett i'm back at it again with the shitty clawen fics. I'm diving back in guys. Also, unbeta read. I was gonna get my beta on it but I'm too excited. spelling mistakes are all me and i'm so sorry

Owen had always thought she looked beautiful in white - but he had never seen Claire look like she was an angel before. She was breathtaking in her wedding gown. 

And she wasn’t his. 

*~*~*

Owen used to watch her sometimes when they were kids - she’d practice the entrance in, holding onto the arm of a teddy bear to act as her father. She wore white high heels and tripped a few times as she walked. Claire laughed, before continuing on, and Owen would always laugh when she kissed the face of another of her stuffed animals. 

Once, when he caught her reenacting the same ceremony over and over, she came outside to tell him all about it. Owen was never interested in it, barely listening to when she spoke about what her dress would look like or where it was set. When she had smacked him upside the head, he frowned at her deeply. 

“Listen! I want Magnolias! I want them all around and filling up the rows!” she beamed, the gap in her teeth where one had come loose, showing clear in her smile. 

“Huh? What are magnolias?” he had asked with a scrunched up nose.

“In your garden. Those!” Claire said, pointing dramatically to his tree in the front yard. 

“They’re pretty, I guess,” he shrugged. Claire raced over to tree, picked a flower and tucked it behind her ear. She came bounding back over, showing off the white flower perfectly positioned on her ear and defining her elegant red hair.

“See! They’re perfect,” she beamed again, and there was something in the way she smiled that made him laugh. 

Claire had been his best friend since childhood - being neighbours had its benefits at the time. She made him play dress up, but in return, she helped him play football - even getting a good throwing arm in the process. 

In the end, Owen knew one thing about Claire above everything. 

She wanted to get married. 

But she didn’t want to marry him. 

*~*~*

It was clear, even then, that Claire had the whole thing planned out. Everything about her day would be perfect. From her dress, to her hair, to the flowers she held at her side. Magnolias with a mix of complementary flowers. 

She beamed without the gap in her teeth now. 

Still, he was dazzled by her presence, and smiled back. 

And his heart broke. 

*~*~*

High school was when Owen knew he had to act. During one of his football games, he was taken off - exhaustion gripping him, and sweat pooled on his skin. He took off his helmet, shaking off his damp hair and combing it back as he looked out onto the game. He didn’t feel like the game was in his favour, something entirely wrong with his play and how he was running - it wasn’t his night. 

“Owen!” a voice yelled from the stands. When he turned, he saw Claire with a few of their mutual friends, with a navy shirt like his uniform. It had the number ten plastered on front in white, and when she turned ‘OWEN’ was written across her shoulders. 

She had spun back around with a giant smile, clapping and cheering him on as much as she could. Even though she hated the game, and took no real interest in it - Claire still went to every game and made Owen feel like he was doing it for something. 

Claire always made him feel like he would win, even when he would lose. 

After the game, only winning by a few points, Owen had showered and dressed, meeting Claire straight after. She charged at him in a bounding hug before jumping onto his back and stealing his helmet. He was too late to warn her how badly it smelled or how damp it was in there from all his sweat before she pushed it onto her head. 

She groaned and struggled to get it off before they got to his car. He laughed as he helped it off, fixing up her hair, tucking a stray part behind her ear and knowing he would need to make a move soon - his heart couldn’t take the waiting. 

The team and their friends has all organised to meet at a diner that was a regular spot for them all - it was one of the only places in town that they could all afford their shitty late night meals. Owen had picked up the mac and cheese order for Claire and the fries that they would share. Claire sat in the booth against the window - their booth - and pat the seat beside her. Owen slid in, handing her the food and starting to talk with the players and friends around. 

The night rounded out, a few friends remaining, but dispursed throughout the diner and parking lot. Claire and Owen talked about college and what they wanted from their futures. They dreamed wild and big, like children without a thought of the wider world. It was perfect. What Owen hadn’t noticed at first was that Claire had placed her hand down on the chair, finger catching his from time to time. 

Her hand edged towards his - his heart was racing harder than it had on the field. She made him so nervous. He looked over to her, the slight duck of her head as she giggled, hiding the blush running over her cheeks. For a moment, he forgot the nerves that begged him to stop, and followed what could only be instinct. He leaned into her, feeling her shoulder press up to his own - she was moving in too. 

It was so slow, almost perfect. 

Then, one of the linebackers pummeled his fists against the glass window next to them. Claire turned around shocked - watching as the asshole made a kissy face and laughed at the pair. Claire vaulted over the booth chair and went outside, kicking him the ass, but they laughed as they play-fought. 

As Claire turned to Owen once more, she shrugged, laughing a little but he could see the blush in her cheeks fading. 

*~*~*

Owen could feel the cold flask pressing tight to his chest as he buttoned up his suit jacket. 

All he wanted was to drink. 

And stop the way his heart wanted to stop beating. 

*~*~*

Owen and Claire had gone to different colleges, they got different jobs, they led different lives from what they saw from their younger years. 

Even though they still stayed in touch, things had been lost - information that was never passed on, only to be discovered from parents that got in touch. 

What shocked Owen most was the engagement he never saw coming. 

It was at her parents' house, right next door to his parents - still living in the homes their children grew up in. Even seeing it that morning, driving from the airport, he remembered the girl in a dress covered in sparkles and shoes that didn’t fit. 

Once, he thought he was going to be the one to make her happy. 

It was too late. He should have expected this. 

Owen waited. 

This Eli guy didn’t. 

Taking a deep breath, he walked into the Dearing house, greeting her mother and father, kissing her sister’s cheek and talking with Karen’s sons that Owen saw as family. 

But they weren’t. 

His heart stood smiling over at him, waving at him for come closer only for it to be squeezed tight by a man that kissed it like Owen wished he could. 

Owen found whatever alcohol was being served and drank as many glasses as he could. He refused to meet Eli, and he didn’t talk to Claire - only raising his glass to her when she looked his way. Instead, Owen talked with Karen, talking about her life and her boys. Karen sensed Owen’s mood, avoiding the topic of the event that surrounded them.

The night rounded down, afternoon closing in a beautiful cascade of colours, yet when Owen saw the flash of red pass at his side, he knew there was nothing like her. And she was like a ghost to him; close, but he could never touch her. Instead of the champagne that had been served, Claire held two beer bottles in between her fingers, handing one over to Owen. Popping to cap with the edge of the porch railing, Owen watched Claire’s classic ‘try-and-fail’ attempt before she got Owen to do the same with hers. 

“I barely saw you tonight,” she said after the silence was too much. Owen merely shrugged. 

“You’ve got people to gush over you, didn’t want to interrupt the fun,” he smirked as he sipped at his drink. Claire scoffed, knocking her hip against his. 

“Oh, screw you, making me out to be an attention seeker.” 

“I saw you in high school, I know what you’re like,” he reminded, only for Claire to throw herself at him, knocking a fist hard against his shoulder over and over again.

“Fuck you, I wasn’t like that in high school,” she snapped. They both laughed, as though everything fell right back into place even with years apart. 

“Congratulations,” he said a little more quietly, looking at his shoes. He was trying to focus on the brown dress shoes he was wearing and not the white heels to his side. Everything about her was distracting to him, evidently. 

“Thanks,” Claire gave back in the same quiet voice. It was as though neither of them wanted to actually say the words. 

“Let’s see the fucker already,” Owen sighed, looking back to Claire who brimmed with a red hue across her cheeks.  

“I think Eli went -” 

“No...not him, idiot. I mean the ring,” he chuckled, and Claire let out her own embarrassed laugh. 

“Oh,” she realised, delicately laying out her hand, “here,” she offered, the ring standing out amongst her slender fingers. Owen gripped the edges of her fingers delicately, as though touching her would break her - or him.  

“Fuck, that’s huge,” he exaggerated, though the ring was quite sizeable. Claire’s hand slipped from his, though his lingered in place, missing the warmth of her. She stared down at her hand. 

“I know. I wasn’t quite expecting it to be so big, and on my hand it looks massive. I tend to take it off,” 

“I’m sure it weighs a tonne,” he said, taking her hand again, pretending to weigh it in his palm, “holy fuck, you carry this around on your finger?! How are you not ripped!” 

“Shut up,” Claire howled out a laugh. Owen chuckled to himself as he drank some more of his beer before Claire broke the silence again. “I’m glad you came,” she said, voice small but wanting.  

“Anything for you. You know that,” Owen said, leaning into her shoulder briefly. Claire’s head fell to his shoulder as she sighed. 

“Yeah.”

*~*~*

Owen stared at the invite, looking at the curl of her name, the letters intertwining with Eli’s. She belonged to someone else, and the invite confirmed it. Looking at his reflection, his hair a complete mess, eyes resembling that of a soulless wanderer, and suit that looked odd on his frame. He wasn’t used to this. He grabbed the flask filled with whiskey off his dresser drawer and went to the car. 

It was a beautiful venue, trees that created archways, birds singing songs in the daylight shine, and flowers blooming to create a wonderful fragrance in the air. Down the aisle, Owen saw the white magnolias that Claire has once described to him. In all, the wedding was exactly how she always planned. It was perfect. 

Owen wandered around, greeting those he recognised before slinking away and trying to find a spot to grab the flask in his pocket. Then, he fixed up his tie quickly as he saw Chris and Lorraine Dearing, dressed in their best. In Owen’s hand, he clenched tight to the gift that was wrapped in an old t-shirt Claire had left at his family’s house many years back. His name was written across the back. She deserved it back, he thought. Nothing else left between them from this day on - just friends, just neighbours, just strangers that once thought they knew the other. 

“Owen! You look amazing,” Lorraine beamed, embracing Owen tightly like when he was a child. She was always family to him. 

“Thank you, Lorraine,” he said, leaving her arms to scrunch up his face in discomfort, “still feels weird to say your name,” he laughed and Lorraine lightly smacked his arm. 

“You’re a grown man, Owen. Get used to it,” she said, almost like a warning. Then, she perked, seeing someone over Owen’s shoulder. “Oh! Beth, so good to see you! Excuse me,” Lorraine said, waving to her friend then smiling to Owen.

“See you,” he said as she passed him. Then, it was just Chris and Owen together.  

“Owen,” he said, extending his hand. Owen took it, and shook it firmly. 

“Chris,” he greeted. 

“It’s going to be hard giving her away,” Chris sighed, looking down the aisle. Owen swallowed, trying not to picture her standing at the end with Eli. 

“I’m sure,” Owen said, jaw clenched as he gripped the gift again. Chris pat Owen’s shoulder, 

“I guess you know what that feels like, son?” he said, and Owen turned to the man. There was an understanding in his eyes. Owen didn’t know what to say, to be seen by the man who knew exactly what Owen was going through. He wondered if more people knew - or if it was just Chris. 

“Owen! Just the man I was looking for,” a voice called. Owen turned, seeing Karen walking over. She wore a beautiful purple silk dress, the maid of honour needed to look just as good as the bride - that was what Claire always said. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Owen faked a laugh, trying not to answer Chris. 

“Very funny,” Karen scoffed, taking his arm. “Claire wants to see you.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah, hurry up, the ceremony is about to start,” she demanded, dragging him off. Chris gave a soft wave before wandering back over to Lorraine. To the side of the entrance, he saw the pile of gifts. They were to pass it to get to the reception rooms where Claire was getting ready. Owen was quick put the gift down with the rest and followed after Karen to make sure she wouldn’t kill him. 

As they got closer to the door, Karen stopped Owen dead in his tracks. She looked at him, sighing with a sad look in her eyes. “Owen,” she started, “don’t tell her. She has to do this on her own.” Why was it so obvious? But Karen had always known, hadn’t she? Owen rubbed at the back of his head. 

“I won’t,” he said gently, “and she already made her choice,” he said, determined to not break. Not yet anyway. Owen continued forward, knocking on the door and entering the room. 

At the window, Claire stood, her hair looking like a beacon of shining red under her white veil. Her dress was a crisp white, laced with silver leaves and flowers. Her bodice was tight on her with the sleeves off the shoulder, with the skirt flowing out from her waist. In a word: she was mesmerising. 

“You called,” he cleared his throat. Claire turned, a little surprised to hear anyone come in. Owen was still finding it hard to catch his breath. Claire’s smile formed fast, hitching up her skirt as she walked towards him.

“I wanted to see my best friend,” she said, letting her skirt go as she stood in front of him. Yet, even in all her beauty, she looked like she was going to cry - that something was causing her to be so frightened that she’d escape at any moment. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Owen stepped towards her, hands on her biceps to possibly try and steady her if she fell. 

“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” she said, voice shaking. 

“I’ve heard that’s a thing. You’ll be fine. You’ve practised this before,” he smiled, and Claire’s brow furrowed. 

“Huh?” 

“Come on, Claire. You’ve wanted this since you were five years old. Had the entire thing planned out from the magnolias in the aisles. Everything is perfect. And so are you,” he said, hand unconsciously guiding itself to her cheek. It would be the only time he would ever hold her like this. 

“You remembered the magnolias?” she asked. 

“I also remember the massive gap in your teeth when you told me what they were,” he said, tucking a hair behind her ear, and finally letting his hands slip from her. He had to let go. “Don’t be nervous. You’ll be fine. Good luck.” 

“Thank you,” she muttered, almost reaching for him before she stopped fixed up her dress to look perfect. 

Owen walked out of the room, finding Karen at the edge of the door. Owen loosened his tie, almost snapping it completely off with the force. He needed to get out of there. Now. 

“Owen?” Karen asked cautiously. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice breaking as he tried to walk away.

“Hey,” Karen stopped him, staring up at him with concern, “what happened?” 

“I did what you told me to. But I can’t watch it happen, Karen. I can’t.” His voice was breaking harder than a teenager, tears welling and it was becoming harder to stop the tremble in his lip. 

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

Owen sniffed hard, trying to find strength in his words. “Tell her I’m around. Don’t tell her...don’t -” 

Karen’s hand went to Owen’s cheek, stopping him before he officially broke. She steadied him for a moment. “I won’t.” Owen leaned his forehead against hers before tearing himself away. The flask in his breast pocket slammed against his chest as he went to his car. He’d drink it soon enough. He just needed to get away from all of the happiness. 

He didn’t have a definite destination that he was driving to - but when he stopped, he definitely thought he had a cruel sense of irony. The old diner was still there, a little run down on the outside, but as Owen walked in, he saw they had redone the paint and finishings on most of their table and chairs. By the window sat the same booth from years prior. One that held hopes of teenagers possibly in love. Love lost. 

Owen ordered his coffee and sat in the booth. It came and the flask finally emerged from his pocket. He looked at the clock on the wall - the ceremony had started. And he dashed the whiskey into his coffee, drinking it down just as quickly as he had gotten it. He savoured the taste before he ordered more, thinking about how he couldn’t linger on her after this day - that it was over after all of this.

He needed to move on. 

He needed to let go. 

He needed to stop himself from being a love sick fool. 

She was happy 

That was all that mattered. 

Friends. 

Neighbours. 

Strangers. 

Nothing. 

Afternoon came in, the sky resembling something like that night of her engagement party, Owen looked at the flask, wondering if another drink would soothe the ache or if he just needed to go somewhere to drown her out completely. He drank from the bottle briefly, then he gestured for the waitress to come back around. As he waited, he glanced out the window. 

A flash of white took his attention, but as the waitress came around he looked back to his cup. It was only a second later that he had seen it before. He looked back out the window to see Claire in her wedding dress, panting as she saw Owen inside the diner. Owen shot up from the booth, putting the money under the coffee cup and rushing outside. 

“Claire?” he stared at her, her hair a little out of place and veil completely gone, “what are you doing here?”

“You weren’t there,” she stated, her hands clenched at her sides. 

Owen swallowed hard. “I just needed to get some air, I didn’t think you’d miss me,” he lied. 

“Of course I would! You weren’t there, Owen! The only person I’ve ever wanted there!” she yelled. It still broke him, seeing her like that, in that dress. He needed to be away from her to stop the ache.

He gestured towards his car, “Claire, let’s just get to the reception, and we’ll talk -” 

“There isn’t a reception!” she snapped, and Owen looked confused. 

“What?” 

“Don’t you get what I’m saying! You weren’t there. I couldn’t marry him, because he wasn’t you!” 

“Claire,” Owen said stunned. What was she saying? 

“I thought…” she paused, as though the words were hard to get out. “I thought you were always going to be there for me. And then, when you weren’t, I knew why I thought you would be. I thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives together, Owen. I want forever with you,” she said, one breath to finish it all. 

“Do you even know what you’re saying?” he muttered before he could stop himself. What was he saying? He wanted this! He was just stunned. 

Claire looked back, fear gripping her - realisation that maybe it was all just one sided. How he had always felt. “You don’t feel this? You never thought -” 

Without fear, without hesitation - for the first time, he let himself feel with everything he had - Owen stepped into her, taking her delicate cheeks into his hands hand kissing her like he had wanted to do for years. Claire let out a surprised noise, but kissed back with a wanting that he craved. She was everything he wanted; and he was the same for her. He wasn’t going to stop kissing her as long as he lived - he had decided it once his lips touched hers. 

Claire was everything. 

And she was his. 

Now. 

And however long she wanted to keep him. 

Just a moment for enough for him. 

When he finally let her go to breathe, Owen rested his forehead against her, her arms wrapping around his waist. She wasn’t letting him go. He felt so loved in just a hold, it was hard to form his words without stumbling. “Of course I did. I thought I missed my chance.” He chuckled as his thumb glided over her cheek over and over again.  

“The wedding dress did put a dampener on things,” she joked, and Owen laughed, breath shaking again. He couldn’t believe it was all real. Everything that was happening was real. She was in his arms, and she was real. Claire kissed him and he hadn’t imagined it. Everything was finally perfect. 

“Now it’s only an improvement,” he replied.

“You think courthouse weddings are still running this late?” she asked, and Owen looked at her in surprise. His heart beat fast, and he licked at his lips. 

“We can only hope,” he smiled, hand going down her arm and holding onto her hand. “There’s always Vegas,” he smirked, only for Claire to thump his chest lightly.

“Very funny,” she said, going up on her toes again to kiss him. 

In one kiss he knew. 

He was hers. 

And she was his. 

#clawen #claire x owen #owen x claire #claire dearing #owen grady #my fics

[alkhale]

Locked Here for Forever (1/6) Dark!Sabo/Oc/Dark!Ace

(quick note before y’all come at me with torches)

This was a side project I’ve been playing around with while working on updates (THE UPDATES ARE COMING I SWEAR, I SWEAR) I was kinda... possessed? to write this and when it kept coming back to me, I realized I needed to get it out of my system. Doing that made me realize how big it was going to end up being so it’s divided up into parts. 

I’ve been wanting to explore a different variety of things. We can say “darker” themes, but I really just wanted to try my hand at playing with characters with honestly manipulative and sociopathic behavior. I’m not going on a limb to say yandere because that term is loose and often made to be thought of with stabby-stabby, stalky-stalky--but I think it can encompass a lot more? Possessive behavior, controlling, but I wanted to really go into manipulative behavior. Sociopathic because it’s not psychotic, it’s functioning and cold and hmm.

(Btw, to each their own, fantasies, kinks, we don’t shame here. But if anyone is ever putting you through what Hoku is going to be put through here and manipulating you into basically mind controlling you and this and that, it is not a healthy relationship and they are scum and you deserve better, drop their ass like a hot fucking potato.)

I decided to use Hoku because this idea originally came from another AU for Memos. (I’m sorry Hoku) Loosely based on the premise from the BL comic, “Points of Three”

It’s here on AO3, if you just want to read there too.

Rating: NSFW

Pairing: Sabo/Oc/Ace (Past! Kid/Oc), Dark!Ace/Oc/Dark!Sabo

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Manipulation (Psychological and Emotional), Past Assault, Past Trauma, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Use of Aphrodisiacs, BDSM, Dubious Consent, Controlling Behavior, Stalking

Chapter One: Points of Three

“From three points, it can’t ever end. They’ll always pull at one. One is always pulled between them. One point is always trapped between the other two.”   

Hoku shoved a pancake into her mouth.

“That’s the idea at least.”

The twenty-four hour breakfast diner was only half busy. A dingy place with wallpaper peeling in places but always clean and friendly. Cozy. The booths had tears at the seams, patched together by other patches. Establishments like this weren’t too popular all throughout their town, but the diner’s all-you-can-eat pancake and breakfast option did the job for their group’s ridiculous appetites.

Crumpled papers were splayed out on their table. Luffy had spilled a bit of syrup onto one of his math packets and it was in the middle of being patted down with water and dried to be somewhat presentable.

Her best friend’s face was currently in the middle of short-circuiting. His attention was waning thin. Luffy’s lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed as he hunched over the papers in front of him, one fork in his hand with syrup dripping from a soggy slice of pancake.

Hoku continued to chew, sick of these studies herself.

“So the answer,” Luffy said slowly. He rubbed the scar beneath his eye. A dumb thing he’d gotten trying to impress a man beyond both their leagues. “Is nothing.”

Hoku snorted. “It’s infinity, dumbass. It never ends.”

“Are you sure?” Luffy said, squinting. “You’re pretty dumb too. I think there’s just no answer. Hey, hey, let’s just leave it blank and then—”

“If you don’t do your half of the group project, Nami’s gonna kick your ass and then she’s going to come after mine,” Hoku said, looking a bit pale at the idea as she slumped forward onto the messy table as well, using her mouth to grab the edge of a pancake off her plate and slowly chew through it. “Dun cwah meh duhm, duhmash.”

“Shishishi, but you are!” Luffy snickered, kicking his feet out and mimicking her position. “We’ll just pay Nami money not to kick our ass and we win!”

Hoku groaned around a pancake at the dangerous word. She made sure strands of her white hair weren’t getting caught in stray puddles of syrup, lazily tugging it back up into a bun. “We’re broke, dumbass. She might be willing to take an IOU, but she’ll collect someday and…”

Hoku whimpered, wishing she could shove her face into the stack of pancakes beside her. “I need a jooooooooob.”

Luffy chewed in front of her, shoveling more pancakes into his mouth. Unbothered. He usually got off on the occasional odd job and Luffy always just had this… way of making things work out when they shouldn’t.

The diner was cheap. So it’d been her source of nutrition the past couple of weeks—aside from Sanji’s loving meal preps and Nami’s fruits constantly being brought back to her dingy apartment. The horrible, cold truth was that her funds were low. Financial aid covered for her classes and materials fine, but existing outside of school came off her savings and odd jobs or freelance work she picked up here and there.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have taken two years off,” Hoku said, squinting at her stack of pancakes as Luffy reached over and started eating them. “Might’ve landed me a better job…”

“Nah, you needed it,” Luffy said simply. “‘Sides, you had tons of fun. You don’t regret it at all.”

Hoku whimpered once more. “Ugh, you’re right.”

Hoku only stood at twenty-one, two years older than Luffy—but after her third year of high school, she’d chosen to leave Japan after her graduation ceremony and head back to her hometown, a small place in Hawaii. She’d decided on a two-year gap, getting in touch with old family friends of her late parents who were essentially relatives and just taking some time to herself after everything and doing a little self-searching but…

Hoku had come back and managed to enter back into college without much of a hitch. She and Luffy were now on the same pace to graduating with Nami and Usopp—if he or she didn’t fail in the meantime—Zoro was going to school part-time for police academy training, Sanji doing the same for his culinary school and full-time position at his father’s restaurant and at least all her buddies were still in school aside from Robin and Franky and Brook.

To be honest, her life was going pretty well so far, aside from finances. It’d been almost a year now since her break-up and the two of them were still on amicable terms and checked in with each other regularly, her friends were healthy and in her life, Shanks and his team were out exploring some new island and there’d be an interview on it soon they could tune into…

Hoku was happy.

But school aside—she was still unemployed and poor. No new jobs had been coming her way as of late and even Law helping her land that job with designing that new program promotion his residency had needed was gone to her rent in a blink.

“Why don’t you ask Torao to help you get a job at his hospital?” Luffy said loudly. “You can be a nurse or something.”

“I’m too dumb to save people’s lives,” Hoku said flatly. “And I’m an art major. That’s like… Telling a cat to go fly.”

Luffy opened his mouth.

“Never mind, stop there,” Hoku shoved her face into the sleek table, smelling the old wood. “You also need credentials to work in a hospital, Lu. Should I find a campus job? There’s gotta be an opening somewhere… Maybe I can see if the amusement park needs caricature artists or something--”

“But you hate that kinda stuff,” Luffy complained. “It’s boring. You’re never supposed to do the boring stuff ya hate.”

“But I’m broke,” Hoku said pitifully. “Maybe my pride can suck up being poor…”

Hoku turned so her chin was flat against the table, looking thoughtful. “Maybe I can gamble my way to being rich…”

Luffy chewed with a little more thought, making a constipated expression—he was really thinking about something.

Her phone vibrated with a little jingle on the other side of the booth. Hoku turned it over, making a little happy noise. They could worry about money later. She hated thinking about this kind of stuff. “Zoro’s out of class. Let’s meet up with him and Usopp for that movie.”

“I feel like I’m forgetting somethin’,” Luffy said, making a face. “Oh, man… what was it…”

“Answer your damn homework and let’s go,” Hoku said, stuffing her leftover pancakes into her mouth and waving her hand to the owner for a check. “Cuh mown.”

“Nothing, right?” Luffy said, about to press his pen in.

“Infinity,” Hoku said flatly, grabbing his pen and scribbling the horizontal 8 in for him. “Never ends. That point is always stuck. Kinda like insanity.”

“Like how you’re crazy.”

“You’re crazy, crazy, now c’mon. Let’s beat Usopp and make him pay for snacks.”

Luffy stuffed all the pancakes into his mouth, rushing out the door with his cheeks full. Hoku slapped their money onto the table and ran out after him, shoving extra napkins into her backpack.

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Hoku stared at the last page of her canvas sketchbook with a reluctant frown, a small sigh slipping past her lips.

She’d tried to be as conservative as possible with all the negative space—but this was it. She went through sketchbooks faster than her small funds could afford, but she couldn’t help but always put aside a bit for her work—it’s what you love.

The rest of her art classmates were packing up their things for the day. Stools squeaked across the smooth floors. Easels or clipboards sliding back into place. The model at the center stood up, stretching her arms over her head as their professor instructed them on what to work on this weekend and to finish last assignments up. They’d just finished another open studio and there’d be a big project coming up soon enough… She was going to need to buy the new canvases and oil paints for that… Shit.

Her fingers twitched. Hoku couldn’t help but smile.

She loved what she did.

Even if you’re bad for my wallet.

“Looks like you finally need a new book,” Hoku’s smile dropped, fingers stopping at the edge of her book. The girl beside her leaned over, smiling, “You’ve been needing a new one, haven’t you?”

I don’t even remember your name. Hoku hadn’t bothered. She made a fair enough effort with remembering the names of her classmates, but this one in particular had made it clear where she stood. Wanted to be some high end artist—was on her way, probably, since she’d been showcased in several galas but—

The hidden hint behind her words was clear every time she spoke to Hoku. Blatant. A teasing curl of her lips.

“Don’t you think that’s sad?”

“You’re always using the front and back of each page,” she laughed. “I mean, the drawings are great, but you can afford a new one or two, right? I’ll donate one if you’re that prudent.”

A few eyes glanced over at the easy confrontation. Hoku kept her face even. After this semester, you won’t even matter.

“You can afford the tattoos right,” she continued with a light laugh, tapping the corner of her left eye where Hoku’s heart shaped tattoo was inked in around her eye, smeared at the end. “Just save a bit for a new sketchbook and some supplies while you’re at it. Got to keep up with your studies, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Hoku said, it was actually starting to bother her now. “What’s your name again?”

Someone’s pencil dropped behind them. He stooped down to pick it up, hiding his face.

Her classmate’s face flushed red. Her eyes flickered, back and forth, assessing the reaction of the people around them. Barely anyone was watching—who cared? They were all here to learn and to hone their skills. No one needed more drama.

Hoku’s lips pulled into a polite smile, revealing baby canines.

“Come on,” she said, laughing with a titter, “It’s been half a semester. It’s—”

“HOOOOOKKKKUUUUUU—” Thin but muscular arms wrapped tight around her shoulders. Hoku floundered for a second, almost tumbling back over her chair at the added weight. The smell of the sun washed around her and Luffy’s hair tickled her cheek, pressing in close as he jumped around, almost ripping her from her seat.

Warmth pressed into her back. Hoku’s shoulders relaxed, everything cleared. Her lips turned upwards into a wide grin.

Luffy was a destructive, bumbling dumbass most of the time—but he could always turn a mood into a better one.

Shanks rubs off on you too much. She thought fondly, a bit of stupid smile curling over her lips. Maybe that’s a good thing.

“Hoku! Hoku! You won’t believe this—come on! Let’s get lunch, I’m hungry. I’ve got awesome news! It’s gonna blow your mind and—”

“Calm down, dumbass!” Hoku snapped. A few of her classmates looked on in amusement. The girl from earlier had already retreated, saving face. Wiser ones started to move their things out of the way. “You’re going to break something again!”

Her professor didn’t mind friends coming in and visiting or sitting in on lectures. But Luffy’s regular presence barreling through the art department was considered a public menace and had to be dealt with accordingly. “I’ve never seen anyone launch themselves off the second floor and bounce around the way he does, so for the love of god please keep him away from the ceramics class—”

“Did you just finish class?” Hoku said, adjusting herself to account for Luffy’s added weight. She walked with a backwards slump, leaning as Luffy dragged along the floor hanging off her while she gathered her supplies.

“Yup! Nami went to go get a table!” Luffy said happily. “Come on, come on, let’s go eat! I’m starving!”

Her stomach rumbled in agreement. Hoku pressed a warning hand to her stomach, using the other to shove her backpack over her shoulder and purposefully shove into Luffy’s cheek. “I’m hurrying, but what were you saying earlier?”

She shoved her stuff into her bag as quickly as she could, flipping her sketchbook closed and turning toward the door. Luffy was starting to clamber up her back and she wasn’t sure she could support him if he decided to test if she could give him a piggyback ride.

“Oh, yeah!” Luffy said, cheek squished against her knuckles. “I think I found a job for ya! And it pays!”

“You found me a job—”

Hoku’s foot tripped over the other, sending them both toppling to the floor in a massive heap of one screech and Luffy’s monkey-like laughter. A student quickly grabbed his easel, jerking it out of the way as they smashed into the ground.

“Shishishi, you’re such a klutz.”

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.

“If it’s Luffy, it’s probably some weird job throwing yourself off a cliff for fun,” Nami said warningly, neatly filed nails digging into the tangerine in her palm as she peeled it. “You guys are always talking about that explorer—what if it’s doing something illegal or—”

“Throwing yourself off a cliff and getting paid is fine,” Zoro said. He ran a hand through his spearmint colored hair, light catching off his golden earrings. “Just make sure you’re not secretly being employed for some kind of drug smuggling. You’re both idiots, so it’d happen.”

Luffy didn’t even look the slightest bit bothered, simply grinning stupidly to himself as he shoveled food into his mouth. Hoku—a little calmer and more sensible after stuffing her face with the cafeteria’s economically wonderful meal sets—gaped at the two of them in disbelief, blatantly offended.

The four of them were gathered in one of Grand College’s many cafeterias. Usopp was cramming last minute for another exam and should be running over any second. Hoku crossed her arms over her chest, shoving another forkful of pasta into her mouth. Nami leaned forward, setting a peeled tangerine down and smacking Luffy’s grabbing hands away as she set to work on another.

“I would not get involved in something like that without knowing,” Hoku grunted. Turning to Luffy she added, “If it’s drugs, I need to know how much it’s going to pay first.”

Zoro put her in a headlock, pointedly shoving her face into his chest where his nametag from his police training could smash into her cheek. Hoku’s arms flailed around, smacking into his cheek.

“Nah, it’s way better than any of that!” Luffy said, throwing his arms out in excitement. He stopped for a second. “Hey, wait, that sounds kinda fun—”

“Get on with it,” Nami and Zoro chorused.

Luffy grinned, turning to Hoku—who popped her head out over the top of Zoro’s tightened arm—with shining eyes. “Ace and Sabo are looking for someone to help them with this project!”

“Ace and Sabo?” Hoku’s eyes went round. A little box of memories peeled itself open, idle moments, pleasant laughter, warm memories wrapped around little flashes of awkward teenage encounters.

Hoku had known Luffy since she was a kid when his grandfather, a marine, had been stationed over in Hawaii at the time. Hoku’s parents had passed away a few years before that and after moving around, she’d spent some time with Mihawk until Garp swindled her into being looked after with Luffy…

She’d met Ace and Sabo young. When she was nine and they were ten--she remembered fighting all the time with Ace and Sabo being the genial, grinning mediator and those summers and years had been a great time and then she’d left to go live with Mihawk and eventually set up her own place. Their meetings were scattered in between coming to Luffy’s house with the three of them there after school—she and Luffy had gone to the same school for as long as she could remember—it’d gone on until high school, where meetings between them happened on occasion and then Hoku had left.

The two older brothers were great people—amazing even. Funny, easy to be around, always looking after Luffy first and foremost. She and Ace still butted heads and he could flip from a dotting older brother to an absolute menace but it’d been almost three years now since she’d last seen them.

Bright, golden blonde hair. Soot black waves. Hoku huffed over Zoro’s arm, resting her chin comfortably in the crook of his elbow. I wonder if they look any different… I think Luffy posted a picture not too long ago and they seemed well… She’d just never ended up getting in touch with them with everything she’d had going on.

It might be nice to see them again.

“I haven’t seen them in ages,” Hoku said thoughtfully. Luffy nodded his head so hard it almost snapped off. “How’re they doing?”

“They’re great!” Luffy said excitedly. “Never been better, and when they heard you came back into town forever ago, they’ve been saying they wanted to get in touch or somethin’ but they’ve been busy!”

“Your brothers?” Nami said, looking curious. “Isn’t Sabo working for that big designing company right now? The one that works with revolutionary protests through some of their lines?”

“Something like that,” Luffy said. “I never remember the name.”

“You never remember anything,” Zoro corrected. “I thought Ace was working part time as a firefighter. What kind of project would those two need help with? A fire proof line of clothes?”

Hoku looked interested. “That sounds kinda cool.”

Luffy nodded. Nami smacked the back of his head, urging him to continue. “Well, Ace does all kinds of stuff, but he models for Sabo’s work sometimes too. They’ve been doing a specific kinda work for some people.”

Luffy tipped his head to the side. His brows furrowed, crossing his arms over his chest in thought, “I think Sabo said something about… se… celery taste from one of their clients!”

“Selective,” Nami provided.

“Yeah, that! Anyway, one of ‘em wants something special done and Sabo remembered how good Hoku is with drawing and art and stuff!” Luffy said brightly. “I said you’re poor and you need a job—”

“Why’d you gotta say it like that, Lu?”

“And they were super excited and hoping you could help them out!” Luffy said. “See? It’s easy!”

“I’m not going to make your brothers pay me for something like that,” Hoku said, shaking her head in between Zoro’s arm. “They’ve done a lot for me before—they treated me like family when I was always bumming around at your place… I’ll just do it for free, what do they need? An ad? A—”

“Nono, dummy, they said they wanna pay ya because it’s a big job!” Luffy said. “It’ll take a lot of work or something and—ah! I almost forgot!”

Luffy grinned, shuffling around his pants’ pocket before he pulled out a crumpled, balled up paper. He handed it to Hoku, who reached around Zoro’s still loose and comfortable grip to fold it. “Sabo and Ace gave me this last week! It’s their numbers. Said to give them a call or text them if you were down to do it!”

“A week ago,” Zoro snorted. “Nice.”

“But I said we should all get together cause it’s been so long!” Luffy said cheerfully. He grinned, swinging his legs back and forth over the bench. “We can throw a party! Oh, man, we can make it huge and—”

“No parties until after midterms,” Nami said dangerously. “And whatever you decide, don’t forget we’ve got a girls day with Robin next week, Hoku!”

“Right, right,” Hoku said absently, staring at the two differently scrawled numbers—one in neat, even print and a more slurred, harder to read script. Ace and Sabo. “Well, I’ll text them and let them know I don’t mind helping out however. It’s the least I can do since it’s been so long.”

Hoku slumped, throwing herself half over Zoro’s lap. He shot her an unimpressed look and Hoku mimicked a limp fish.

“Maybe I’ll just work in the cafeteria,” Hoku said thoughtfully. “I can sneak meals and they’ll probably feed me too.”

“Sure,” Zoro said. “Like they’d let a klutz like you become a lunch lady. It’s bad enough that eyebrow freak cooks for anyone.”

Hoku made strangling motions at his neck. Zoro just shoved her face back into his lap, folding his arms on top of her head and yawning as she let out muffled screeches.

Luffy snickered. Nami finally relented and offered him a peeled tangerine. He popped it into his mouth and grinned, teeth shining and excitement bleeding into all of them.

“Oh, man, it’s been so long—this is gonna be great!”

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.

.

“Contributing to society yet, you unemployed bum?”

Hoku’s face shot up from the second helping of curry she’d been about to shove into her mouth without further consideration. Her face twisted, grumpy and angry—but only in the kind of way that came off as entirely defensive because the words thrown at her were blatantly true and painful, damn it.

“Hey, you jerk,” Hoku snapped, waving her spoon at the asshole in front of her. “When I start making it big, you’re going to eat those words.”

The currently sitting definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Changed out of his hospital gear and classical surgeon attire—because being a heart surgeon with an emphasis in being able to do surgery on just about anything else because he was a genius called for a lot of hours—and dressed in easy jeans and a black turtleneck. The fluorescent lighting of the homey curry restaurant caught off his slender piercing. His dark tattoos peeked out from the rolled up sleeves of his cuffs, the neatly printed letters staring back at Hoku as he held his too large cup of coffee—black as sin because he still had a shift tonight.

Hoku always had to wonder what his patients thought every time they saw DEATH staring back at them on the hands of their doctor before going under on the table. She got away with the snow white hair and tattoos because she was an “artist” so no one bothered her much.

Probably shit their pants. Or just cry.

Doctor Trafalgar D. Water Law did not look impressed.

“Maybe,” he said dryly, “if you don’t eat everything else first.”

Hoku flinched back as though she’d been struck. She shoveled more curry into her mouth, glaring hard at him from across the table.

“I keep asking myself why I hang out with you,” Hoku said. “You’re always taking your time and then when I think we’re going to have a nice time, you find some way to cut me open again.”

Law took a sip of his coffee, “You do it to yourself. And I hang out with you. Not the other way around.”

“That’s bullshit,” Hoku said around her spoon. “And ya know it, Torao.”

The two were about as far from each other on the spectrum as possible when it came to a small world. As a doctor and about three years older than herself—there could’ve never been an excuse for their paths to cross. It just happened one day that her art club had been assigned to help remodel and work with the children of their local hospital and overseeing the entire thing had been Hoku the klutz from her art club and Doctor Law, resident bachelor heart surgeon.

“You can’t paint monsters in the child ward, it’ll literally scare them to death.”

“Are you even listening to the kids? They want a wall of creepy and fun stuff so they can tell stories to each other.”

“You’ll give them all nightmares and it will reflect poorly on their health.”

“I’ll give them all a reason to run and they’re going to be dancing out of this hospital from how fit they are.”

And then there’d been a celebration party for finishing the joint project and Hoku drank a little too much—or maybe she’d just eaten something bad—and then she was throwing up on Law’s shoes.

Hoku had also been the reason why one of his buddies, Penguin, had managed to graduate in their shared anatomy class. Law was also fairly good friends with Kid—fairly because they always talked shit about each other but still hung out—and there’d never been a reason not to know each other anymore.

Besides, even if she told Law he was a bastard and this and that, she genuinely enjoyed his company. He was looking out for her here and there in his twisted, clinical, at times cold-hearted way.

“But no,” Hoku admitted bitterly, slumping back into her chair. Law leaned back in his own, satisfied as he threw one arm behind the chair next to him and watched her in silence. “It’s been months now and I’m just barely getting by on any project I can… Did you know I was thinking about working at the amusement park? Or the pier? I hate water. Why would I even want to spend more time there—”

“You’re afraid of water, you don’t hate it,” Law corrected. “It’s called aquaphobia.”

Hoku mimicked him.

Law kicked her knee under the table. She jerked it back in, nearly jostling their small little booth. Hoku and Law both grabbed their drinks to steady them.

“I mean, I’m not that bad,” Hoku rubbed her chin, shaking her head. “I think I’m one hell of an artist actually… I can go back into mechanics and pick up a job engineering for a while but…”

Hoku let out a small sigh. “No, that won’t work. It’s gotta be drawing after all.”

“Eustass-ya is coming back into town,” Law said, knowing what—who—mechanics made them think of.

Hoku looked up. Her face was neutral, amiable. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mentioned it,” he said. “Don’t know when.”

Hoku hummed. She played with a carrot on her plate and shoved it to the side. Law scowled. She grudgingly scooped it back up. “I’ll give him a call when he arrives. Maybe we can grab lunch or something.”

Law watched her over the rim of his cup. Hoku waved a hand at him. “We still check up here and there. I mean, when it’s not angry texting—but that’s all in good fun.”

Law’s brows creased in a suit-yourself sort of way.

“You can shift gears a bit,” Law said. “Get a teaching degree and why don’t you apply as an art teacher? You’d still get to do what you loved while working on individual projects. Quit when you’re ready.”

Hoku lowered her arms onto the table, her face a little more sober. “That’s… That’s probably the best idea, isn’t it? But I dunno… me? Teaching?”

Hoku laughed. She rubbed the back of her neck, dragging her fingers down the side and staring hard at her warped reflection on the metal table.

“I don’t think…” she said and stopped. Hoku shook her head, “I don’t think any parent would want someone like me teaching their kids.”

Law’s eyes flickered. His expression loosened, brows a little less furrowed, face a little easier to approach.

“Hoku-ya—”

“But you know what,” Hoku started up again brightly, eyes flashing in determination as she grinned, “there was this girl in my class today—making digs about this and that and just wait. I’m going to pick up an awesome job and come in with my regular gear because I’m not an idiot who blows her cash on fancy materials!”

Hoku’s chest puffed out in pride. She grinned, proud as a peacock and tipped her chin high in the air. “Long live homemade art materials!”

“You’re the only one who can get away with that,” Law said. “Barely.”

“I’m so confident I’m going to get a job,” Hoku said. “That I’m paying for dinner tonight.”

Law looked vaguely amused. He let his chin rest on his palm, watching her.

“So if I went ahead and ordered the deluxe beef curry set—”

“I,” Hoku said, using her best bluffing face, “wouldn’t even blink.”

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Law ended up ordering the set to-go. And paying for the meal—he simply stepped over Hoku’s embarrassingly fallen form when she tripped on her way to the cashier—and handed the food to her after dropping her off in front of her apartment before he took off for his night shift.

“Eat,” Law had threatened, rolling up his window and ignoring her cursing and ranting like she were no more than a fly at his car. “Skip meals and I’ll check you into the hospital myself.”

Hoku threw up both her middle fingers, stomping all the way to her apartment door for emphasis. Law’s sleek car waited in the parking lot until her door opened pointedly wide and closed before pulling off.

“I never skip meals,” Hoku muttered, shrugging her shoes off and hobbling into the living room after setting the food down on the counter. “I love eating.”

Her apartment wasn’t a grand thing, but it was a little more spacious for the great price she was paying. Banged up. Creaky pipes and floorboards—but it held, sturdy and true.

The two bedroom apartment had been shifted so one was her actual bedroom while the other was her studio and guest room—she usually ended up sleeping there when she was working late into the night anyway. Photos were thrown up left and right. Stacks of papers and sketchbooks were scattered all over the apartment. A massive poster hung over her bed of a certain red-haired explorer’s greatest and her favorite excursion.

A small television set and coffee table. A sectioned off kitchen with an island countertop. Her sleek, comfy leather black couch which was a gift from Mihawk—

Hoku flopped down onto the couch, sinking deep into the cushions. She let out one long, low groan.

I’m such a loser. Hoku pressed herself as deep into the couch as she could, willing it to swallow her whole and never let her see the light of day again. You were supposed to come back from those two years and be different. You haven’t done anything.

Her phone vibrated against her ass and Hoku lazily tugged it out of her pocket, half-throwing it toward her face.

“LETS TRY THIS PLACE IT LOOKS GOOD!!!!!” Hoku snorted at Luffy’s text, a smiling touching her lips and scrolling down. Usopp sent a photo of Zoro asleep on their couch. Training must be rough. Nami texted her a reminder to make a reminder in her phone for her date with Robin and the three of them. A notice from her professor about the material list for class next week.

“Heard things are turning up for you. Keep me posted.” Robin.

Hoku’s hand shuffled through her jacket pocket. Her fingers closed around the crumpled piece of paper and she carefully smoothed it back out, staring at the two numbers.

Honestly… she only really had good memories of Sabo and Ace. Well, when she and Ace weren’t butting heads or strangling each other about something. Luffy loved them as much as he could love anyone, so they’d always been important people to her too.

Grade school, middle school, high school… Hoku rifled through the mess of memories. Coming over to their house. Running from their grandfather. Crowding by a television. After school runs to the best food stalls… all just classic, simple memories.

Hoku pulled up an empty message, typing in both numbers into a new group chat. Her fingers hovered over the letters, contemplating the kind of greeting that should’ve fit a gap this long… They couldn’t have changed too much, right?

Hoku typed, deleted, re-typed for several minutes before finally hitting send and dropping her phone onto the rug, rolling over and burying her face between the couch cushions. A minute, two, her shoulders went slack and she finally fell asleep.

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Another minute. A beat.

Her screen flickered to life with a response. A calm ten minutes later.

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Hey, Ace, Sabo!

It’s Hoku—haha, it’s been awhile, huh? Sorry for being so shitty at staying in touch. Hope you guys are doing well! Are you still holding the three of you guys together? Ace haven’t lost his head yet dropping dead somewhere? Lu says you guys have been busy.

He finally gave me your numbers and mentioned you had a project you needed help with. Don’t worry about paying or anything, I’d be happy to help out! You guys are like family, y’know? I don’t know how much I can do, but let me know. Let’s catch up. :)

Changed at all?

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Hoku,

It’s so nice to say your name again after so long! Took Luffy long enough. It’s been ages, hasn’t it? Ace and I are better than ever, well, trying at least. I’m so glad to finally speak with you again after all this time. I hope your trip was everything you needed and now you can enjoy a long stay back home. I could go on forever, but let’s save the rest for in person, shall we?

Yes! I’m not sure how much Luffy told you about it, but we’d love to discuss with you further. Face to face. When is the soonest you can meet? Ace is asleep right now, but I’ll let him know as soon as he wakes up. The lug.

Hope to be in contact with you soon,

Sabo.

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Two minutes passed and a second message was sent, accompanied by a warm, smiling face.

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Haven’t changed a bit. Missed you, Hoku.

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Shit. Hoku exhaled, adjusting her tote bag over her shoulder—Luffy had bought it for her on a random splurge, dotted with stars. Her head tipped to the side, as though looking at the beautiful building would change what she was seeing.

A few people walked past her, offering strange looks.

The dessert restaurant was famous. Newly opened, lovely. Two floors with nothing but booths overlooking the city and cozy cafes where people could gather to enjoy all kinds of sweets—for those not as inclined to sugar, they had an array of sandwiches and anything to all varying tastes.

Hoku had been eyeing this place for months now, enviously searching through images online or drooling into her pillow as she scrolled through food bloggers. She and Nami and Robin were supposed to finally try it next weekend when Robin came back from her latest trip…

Lucky me. Hoku whistled, shaking her head as she stepped up to the patisserie and opened the door with a gentle jingle of the golden bell on top. Now I get to go twice.

She’d woken up, creases in her face from where she’d shoved herself between the couch cushions, to several new messages. The only one that’d stood out, neatly typed in a way most people would never text like a letter, and addressed with his name since she didn’t have his number already saved—

Sabo.

Hoku had stared at the message with wide eyes, not quite believing what she was seeing, drool dried to her chin. Hoku’s eyes had brightened and she’d quickly responded, getting even a little excited because—it was Ace and Sabo—they were good friends. I missed them.

It was supposed to be nice--reconnecting with people you hadn’t seen for a long time.

Hoku’s eyes searched the crowds of people gathered together, focusing on the host stand. A host stand for a bakery, damn. Hoku seemed to be on the lesser scale of dress—high waisted shorts with her halter top tucked in—but I’ll be alright. The entire first floor could be seen from the second story where people could make reservations for secluded booths to enjoy their sweets and tea. We should be on the first floor...

Hoku stopped short. She stood there in the middle of the bakery, face calm.

I mean they… Hoku’s eyes slowly scanned over the crowd one more time, doing a thorough comb over. They can’t be… that different right? Am I crazy?

She stopped at every blonde and black haired male, craning her head, shuffling around the bakery and trying to peek around to get a look at different faces. Trying and failing to be as discreet as possible. No freckles. No scar on the left side of his face. Nothing.

Hoku shuffled through her bag, fishing out her phone.

Right time. Hoku checked the message thoroughly. Right place. Meet here… there aren’t any other instructions. Am I just first?

If she remembered right, Sabo was always so punctual… Hoku made a face, turning around on her heel. Should I just go get a table? I’ll just go get a table—

“Excuse me miss, are you looking for your party?”

Hoku’s phone slipped like butter through her fingers. Her foot shot out, trying to catch it and she almost toppled over completely, grabbing the nearest chair and steadying herself.

The host who’d approached her looked horrified, as though he’d almost witness an apocalypse occur right before his eyes.

“Hi,” Hoku said. A few people were looking. She bent down to grab her phone, shoving it into her bag. “I—what?”

“Your party,” the host repeated kindly. “With a Mr. Sabo, correct?”

Hoku stared at the host with round eyes.

He smiled, “He told us to look out for you. He’s already waiting at the table if you’d like to follow me, miss.”

“Oh,” Hoku said dumbly. She straightened out, staring at the host like an idiot. “I… I didn’t see him. Where is he?”

“This way, miss,” the host gathered up a menu and began his ascent toward the steps.

Hoku stared at the stairs. Stairs led to a second floor. The second floor was a fancy floor.

Hoku pressed her hand into her mouth, staring.

Maybe it’s the wrong Sabo?

“Would you prefer the elevator, miss?” the host said, looking worried. “Forgive me—”

“No, no, no, stairs are fine!” Hoku quickly scampered after him. The host smiled, leading the way up the winding staircase the short distance to the second floor. “I just—I thought he was on the first floor. Sorry. Thank you for your time.” Stop talking, you dumbass.

The host continued to smile, leading them past a narrow walkway of several private rooms and booths. You can see everything from here. Hoku eyed the bottom floor, wondering if anyone had watched her flailing around like a mouse. Or a fish. Or just an idiot in general.

They walked a short distance, coming close to where part of the second floor was sectioned off against the railing of the top floor. The other half of the floor opened up with wide glass windows, showing the entire city and the bay across the distance.

This is so nice. Hoku glanced around in disbelief. I can’t imagine the price tags up here, gotta tell Nami and Robin.

A single booth sat at the end of the walkway, pushed to the back. A perfect vantage point of the entire first floor and the breathtaking view on the side—

Golden blonde hair fell a little longer now. It still had its wavy sort of curve, kissing the sculpted, angular line of his jaw. His eyes still had that soft little light to them, curious as he surveyed the menu in front of him. His skin was fair, a burn scar over the left side of his face, around his eye. There was a larger one hidden beneath the neat, cream dress shirt he wore inside a dark, navy blue sweater.

He looked older—more mature, a redefined version of himself, as though someone had simply adjusted the resolution of a good photo, complimenting what already was. Dapper and gentle and charming all at once—

But still, maybe, the same after all.

“Sabo!” Hoku’s eyes went wide, an easy grin touched her lips and she strode forward. Hesitancy lined the back of her steps, careful. Even if we got along fine and were pretty close, it’s still been awhile and—how do you do stuff like this again?

His eyes flickered upwards immediately, finding her with perfect ease. They went a little round, brightening in an instant. His lips turned upwards into one bright, warm smile.

Some small part of Hoku quieted. His eyes were warm, almost hot. He was looking at her like finally, finally, something had fallen into place and it was all right—

Hoku balked for a second, uncertain. Her heart warmed at the sight, a flood of pleasant memories and—

And what?

“Hoku!” that’s really his voice. It’s been so long. Sabo stood from his seat, stepping around the table into the walkway. The host behind them set the menu down, backing off so they could be alone. Hoku almost reached out to grab his arm and ask him to stay, just to have another person here because—why would you do something like that, you’re so weird, it’s just a reunion with someone you haven’t seen in awhile—

Sabo’s shiny loafers stopped a few feet from her. His arms had been raised for a second, but his face quickly shifted with obvious hesitation, waiting uncertainty. His lips pursed, waiting in that dorky expression of his. Brows a little furrowed. Hoku stood there like an idiot, telling her mind to shut up and—

Hoku let all other thoughts melt away. It was Sabo. She knew Sabo. She knew him when he was missing a tooth. This is Luffy’s brother. He’s practically family. She gathered her footing beneath her, steadying.

Hoku stepped into his embrace, meeting him the rest of the way. Sabo’s entire face lit up, eyes warming.

It was a ridiculously...nice feeling, to be looked at like that.

Her arms came around his middle and Sabo’s arms instantly wrapped tight around her in a bear hug, wrapping around her shoulders and holding her snug. He almost lifted her off her feet. Hoku laughed, patting his back as Sabo held her tight for a moment, the smell of his cologne washing over her, smelling like something expensive and roguish. He laughed back into the crown of her hair, air ghosting past her ears as he moved his head to the side then, right by her ear.

“Hoku!” Sabo said. “It’s been so long! It’s so good to finally see you-—look at you! You got taller!”

“Says you,” Hoku snorted, pulling back a bit so she could crane her head up to his face. Her ear twitched. Sabo laughed, loosening his grip around her so she could shift more comfortably in his arms. “Look at ya—who said you could grow this tall, you jerk?”

“You look absolutely wonderful,” Sabo said graciously. Hoku stiffened in surprise. She shuffled a bit backwards and Sabo quickly released his hold on her, letting her back out of the hug. “You do! You let your hair grow out—it looks beautiful.”

“No, I just,” Hoku stopped, pressing a hand to her mouth in surprise. “I forgot how you were. You’re always saying stuff like that—caught me off guard, ya bastard.”

“With a compliment?” Sabo laughed, a warm, breezy kind of sound. Hoku’s lips pulled up at the corners. “You deserve dozens more with how long it’s been.”

“You look great!” Hoku punched his chest lightly with a fist. Sabo grinned boyishly, beaming down at her. “All dressed up too—couldn’t beat that royal look out of you, could you?”

“Decided to embrace a different kind of style,” Sabo chuckled. “I’m not missing any teeth this time, right?”

The image of a beaming, grinning blonde boy with scuffed up shorts, a creased hat and a gap where his tooth was missing—Hoku’s smile widened. Yeah, that’s right. This is Sabo.

Sabo took a moment to look at her, as though he were seeing her again for the very first time. Hoku’s nerves rattled for a second, a chill racing down her spine. You’re just nervous. Calm down, you dumbass. His face visibly softened. The chill disappeared. Eyes warm, he clasped his hands together in front of him.  

“I’m glad you’ve been well,” Sabo said softly, smiling. “It really is nice to see you again, Hoku.”

“I’m sorry I was so bad at staying in touch,” Hoku said, brows furrowing. “I should’ve called once or twice to check up on you guys… Luffy told stories every now and then and I guess that always seemed enough.”

“No, we should’ve made more of an effort on our part,” Sabo said. He guided her to the table and Hoku slipped into the seat in front of him. His fingers gently glided over her arm, over her skin, smoothly taking her bag and hooking it over the back of the chair. Hoku blinked, realizing she hadn’t even known that he’d been getting her bag—

For a brief moment, Hoku stilled. A force of habit. It only lasted a second, anyway.

Sabo’s frame towered over her. One hand resting on the edge of the chair where he was releasing the bag, the other steadying himself on the table but—

You’re boxed in.

And then Sabo was gone and she was free and Hoku relaxed even though she never should’ve been tense in the first place.

“I’m sorry Ace couldn’t come, he wanted to see you too,” Sabo said, pulling away with a frown. “He had an important shift today so he couldn’t get off.”

“We can definitely meet up again,” Hoku said surely. “With Lu next time too, catch up like old times. I want to see more of you guys for sure.”

Sabo smiled at her—it almost made her feel as though she were being praised for something. She’d said the right answer.

“Things just got so busy with work and you were in your third year,” Sabo said. He took a seat beside her, brows creased apologetically. “You were seeing someone at that time too, weren’t you? Relationships, school, it all gets so hectic.”

“That’s… yeah, that’s right,” Hoku blinked in realization. Sabo folded his hands together on top of the table, expression soft. Understanding. Kid and I were together and I was focused on spending time with everyone before I left and then….

Had she just forgotten about Ace and Sabo? Enough to not even give her best friend’s brothers a proper goodbye—

“That’s no excuse though,” Hoku said, brows furrowing. Had that really been what happened? Holy shit, Hoku. They’re like family—how could you do something like that? Kid had taken up a lot of her time sure, but she’d wanted to spend that time with everyone because she was going to be gone for so long. “Shit, I’m sorry Sabo—”

“Don’t even think about apologizing,” Sabo said, shaking his head sternly. Hoku’s lips pursed. “We could’ve called you just as easily as you could’ve called us. It’s a two way street. No one needs to apologize here.”

Even if you say that, I’m still going to make it up to you guys. Hoku huffed, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest in thought. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t suck.”

“Maybe,” Sabo said, a light chuckle. He looked so happy. It was hard not to keep staring at him, to feel happy herself. Infectious. A waiter came and swiftly left behind two steaming mugs and Hoku looked up in surprise. “Sorry! I took a guess at the menu—I’ve never been here before and I got what they recommended and looked the best…”

“No—you’re fine!” Hoku pulled the mug closer to her, eyes growing wide. She instantly grabbed for some sugar cubes and Sabo looked amused. “This is their apple tea, right? Ah, I’ve been wanting to try this, nice call.”

“Thank goodness,” Sabo seemed to deflate in absolute relief, melting down into his seat. Hoku snorted, staring at him in disbelief. “Sorry, I got worried for a second I ordered something awful--still like apples, huh?”

“Enough,” Hoku said. “My favorite is still—”

“Longan,” Sabo said.

Hoku blinked in surprise, looking up from the steaming cup in her hands.

Sabo smiled. He pulled his cup—coffee or an espresso by the smell of it—closer toward him. Sabo reached for the sugar jar. “I always think about you when I see them in stores—it’s such a weird fruit to choose to eat on your own, so I remember the time you had us all try it and—”

“Lu choked on the seeds,” Hoku’s lips curved fast into a grin, “I know what you mean. I always remember random things because of people too. You start to link people up with the stuff and places in your life.”

“Exactly,” Sabo said with a warm smile. He dropped a cube in, picking up the small spoon and starting to stir, slow and easy. “Come on, tell me all about it—how was everything? Luffy said it was something like a… soul searching experience?”

“Sort of,” Hoku laughed, pushing her hair back over her head and holding it there for a second. The apple tea smelled amazing. “I wanted to get in touch with some old family friends, help fix up the town I was born in… just spend some time there. It’s home, you know?”

Sabo looked openly curious, taking a sip of his coffee. “Are you thinking of settling there?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Hoku shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck. “Settling is a tentative word anyway. I love it here to much and all my friends are here, you know? I like my apartment and what I’ve got going fine.” Just minus a steady income.

“That’s true,” Sabo said, looking thoughtful. “There’s just so much here… It’d make more sense.”

“Mhm,” Hoku said. “But it was nice. I needed it. It helped me with a lot of sorting out and growing, I think.”

“The growing I can agree on,” Sabo said warmly. Hoku made a face. “You’re lovely, Hoku. You’ve always been.”

“Stop,” Hoku laughed, wrapping her hands around the cup. It warmed her palms. “I mean, I can talk about my trip and stuff, but what’s been going—”

“Wait,” Sabo said, looking surprised. “You said apartment—are you living off campus?”

“Yeah, like Lu,” Hoku said. “They’re apartment was too crowded, even though they offered a room, so I found my own place.”

“Ah,” Sabo said. He dropped another sugar cube into his coffee. “With your boyfriend?”

Hoku smiled softly. Her eyes dropped down to her tea, staring at the murky red color. Nowhere near the bright, flaming red— “Your hair’s like hot cheetos.” “Keep talking and I’m going to shove you out of my car.”—“Ah, no, nothing like that. Just me. We actually broke up about… a year ago now?”

Sabo’s face shifted instantly. His brows creased, spoon pausing in the air. Apologies flooded his eyes, mouth opening in quick understanding that he’d just asked something like that—but Hoku waved him off, shaking her head and hand in turn. “No, no, don’t even start. We parted on good terms. I was supposed to only be gone a year, but I decided to stay longer and we had a bit of a falling out and yada yada.”

Hoku smiled, earnest, “But we’re still good friends. No drama or anything.”

“Still,” Sabo said, brows creased, looking ashamed. “I’m sorry for asking so insensitively like that. You don’t just go barreling through past relationships—sorry, Hoku. I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories—”

“There aren’t any,” Hoku said.

Sabo dropped his spoon into his coffee, starting to stir again, slow, “That’s good. It seems like you both handled it well, then.”

There really weren’t. Even with all their fighting and butting heads, they always sobered up and acted out of each other’s best interests when it came down to it. He’d wanted her to come back—come with him—and she hadn’t known what she was looking for—

Don’t think about that now. Hoku shook her head. This is a different occasion.

Hoku’s mouth opened, eager to shift gears—

“Why’d you decide to stay the extra year?” Sabo questioned, stirring absently. Hoku looked up. Her tea was starting to cool enough now so that it wouldn’t burn her tongue.

“I just realized a year wasn’t enough to find what I was looking for,” Hoku said. “It got hard, making the decision cause I missed everyone so much, but it was a good one. I think it helped.”

Her gut twisted. Had it? She might’ve had a great time—gotten to see Shanks with his surprise stay, Mihawk came and they explored the island her mother had loved, her friends visited—but had it? Here she was now, still moving through life, still going about things but had it—

Changed anything?

Hoku thought about the lack of jobs. Thought about Law’s suggestion to switch gears. Am I even doing things right? Kid slipped into the back of her mind. Yeah, they hadn’t ended on bad terms, but had her decision even been a right one? Had there ever been a reason for them to—

Quiet black gloves, a soft underside of leather, touched her hand. Hoku jumped, eyes dropping down and realizing she hadn’t even noticed Sabo’d been wearing gloves. That’s new. Her eyes flickered back up and she realized his face was creased in worry, eyes watching her openly. “Hoku?”

Shit. “I’m sorry,” Hoku said, pulling her hands back. Sabo’s hand dropped onto the table and he glanced to it for a moment before looking back to her. Hoku used one hand to grab her cup, the other pushing her hair back out of her face from habit. “Got lost in thought—what’d you say?”

“I’m just glad you’re back,” Sabo said. He pulled his hand back, letting it rest in his lap as he brought his cup back to his lips. “Hopefully to stay. Have you had a chance to do everything you’ve missed since coming home?”

“Oh, plenty,” Hoku said, slumping in relief at the change in topic. Think happy. Think Sabo. Don’t worry about the other stuff. He doesn’t need that. Or deserve it. “The lot of losers has been making sure I do.”

“I can imagine with them,” Sabo said, looking amused. He let his cheek rest onto one hand, using the other to twirl his cup. “Luffy always talks about you guys when we meet up. Took him long enough to finally get us in touch again.”

“That’s right!” Hoku clapped her hands together. Sabo blinked. Smiling like a lost puppy. “The whole reason for this—Lu said you guys needed help with a project right? What is it? I don’t know how much I can do but I’ll try my best—”

“So you only came today because of that?” Sabo mused, tipping his head to the side, resting on his hand. Strands of wavy blonde fell a bit onto the side of his face. “I thought we were catching up.”

Hoku paled, her jaw went slack. “No—oh my god—no. You guys don’t have to pay me—I won’t let you pay me. I just wanted to help—”

Sabo’s laugh broke through. Breezy, curling past her ears. Hoku stumbled over her words, stopping as his gloved fingers hid only parts of his bright smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just teasing. You’re still so easy to tease.”

Hoku’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. She settled back into her seat, rubbing the top of her head. “Ah, jeez. You’re awful, Sabs.”

Sabo’s smile widened behind his fingers. His eyes were impossibly warm and Hoku stopped, staring. “What? You keep looking at me with that dumb smile—”

“I was wondering if you’d call me that again,” Sabo admitted, eyes softer now, still so, so warm.

Hoku blinked. She laughed, “You could’ve just asked. I’m sure other people call you that too. You’re so weird.”

“Maybe,” Sabo agreed, looking amused by her choice of words. “Hoku, what have you been up to aside from—”

“No, wait,” Hoku waved her hands, halting him.

Her eyes were on the table. Sabo’s eyes flickered briefly. He pulled his hand away from his mouth, adjusting his comfortable position to sit back in his seat. Hoku glanced back up to him to see a patient smile. It’d felt like the poor guy had to direct this entire conversation, Hoku didn’t even realize how much he was guiding it.

“The project,” Hoku said. “That first. I keep getting all twisted up with you. There’s too much to talk about. Let’s do that first.”

“Alright then,” Sabo said, a little laugh to his words. “It’s… Well, it’s less of a project and more of a personal request from a client of ours for a… specific piece of artwork.”

“That seems simple enough,” Hoku said, her hands curling around her tea to finally take a sip. “But last I heard, you and Ace are doing different kinds of work—is there a reason why they went to you?”

“There is,” Sabo said with a nod. He reached a gloved hand out across the table. Hoku blinked, curious, but Sabo waited patiently.

Hoku pulled her hands away from her tea. She limply poked Sabo’s gloved hand. The blonde laughed, shoulders shaking with the motion. “No, see, I’m not sure if you’re familiar or if Luffy told you, but I’ve been working with a designer company for a long time now. A close coworker and friend of mine designed these.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Hoku said, feeling a little stupid. The brand was labeled neatly, tucked away to not be too flashy on the inner seam of the glove. “Liberator, right? So the client met you two from this?”

“Catching on quick,” Sabo praised. Hoku’s cheeks flushed a bit and she rubbed the back of her neck. Sabo smiled warmly, “Sure enough, both of us are nowhere near a more… artistic sense of experience. I’ve been working and Ace models from time to time, but our client approached us from that line of work. We’ve been helping them out with their requests and they had a more specific one this time. They wanted a portrait. Or a series of them, to keep.”

Sabo sighed, leaning back in his seat. He laced his fingers together over the table. “It had us both stumped for awhile, to be honest. It seemed doable, but we didn’t know who to go to for something of this nature—but then we remembered Luffy mentioning you were back and town and he said you’ve been running into awful luck with work—”

Hoku sank lower in her seat, “How much did he say about that?”

Sabo’s face didn’t hold a hint of judgement. There was a fond sort of pity and understanding, he winced on her behalf, “You seem to be struggling quite a bit financially is what we got from it.”

Hoku grumbled to herself. Damn it, Luffy and your dumbass, big mouth. “Listen, it really isn’t that bad—”

“Don’t worry,” Sabo said, “I won’t pry. I want to. But I won’t. It’s not fair to come barging into your life after all this time and tell you whatnot just because.”

“I know you guys wouldn’t mean it like that,” Hoku said, feeling horribly touched at his words. And… relieved. He’d said exactly what she’d been hoping to hear. “You just care. You guys have always been sweet on those you care about.”

Sabo rubbed the back of his neck this time, looking sheepish. “It’s nothing like that—”

“No, no, it is,” Hoku said. “But anyway, forget about money. Keep goin’.”

“Well, it still has to do with money, actually,” Sabo said. “We both wanted you instantly because we love the way you draw—you’ve always been amazing at it, no matter what it was.”

Hoku’s chest flooded with unrestrained pride. She sank lower into her seat, covering her forehead with one hand and biting her lower lip. “I—I still have a lot to work on—”

“Hoku, look at me.”

Hoku followed the instruction, startled.

Sabo’s face was stern. His eyes held her in place, brows creased in that little way to show how earnestly he meant what he was about to say. “Hoku, you’re an amazing artist.”

Hoku grabbed her tea cup. Sabo opened his mouth, eyes flickering quickly with something—but she already brought it roughly to her lips, a bit sloshing over as she took a long, hard sip—it was delicious—and swallowed.

A bit dripped down her chin. Hoku laughed, a little too loud, flustered and embarrassed and yeah, it’s nice to hear all that but it doesn’t make it any less—I dunno. She was always shit at stuff like this. “Okay, I get it, you like the drawings—what’s the job—”

Sabo’s expression looked lost for a moment. Hoku blinked, realizing he seemed entirely zoned out. His eyes were following something on the corner of her chin and Hoku stopped, quickly rubbing at the tea that’d spilled down her chin—

“I’m sorry,” Sabo said, blinking back into focus. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face for a moment and then smiling at her. “I didn’t catch that. I lost my train of thought this time.”

“No, you’re fine,” Hoku said. “We’re even now.”

Sabo stared at her for a second before he said, a bit soft, “You’re awful at listening to directions, aren’t you?”

“A bit,” Hoku said. Sabo’s fingers curled around his cup.  “Keep going about that client. Needed an artist. What’s next?”

“Ah, yes,” Sabo folded his hands back together onto the table. “Well, we figured we were killing two birds with one stone by asking you. Help you out with your situation, and secure the piece we needed for this request. We’ll need you twice a week for an entire month, starting as soon as you can. It’ll only be in the evening, and we can work around your school schedule, but when you come in, how long it runs for may vary each time. We can supply any materials you’ll need, canvases and all, and all you’ll have to do is just draw.”

“That sounds…” Hoku said, “Really well-thought out.”

Sabo smiled, “We tried to be thorough with our planning to make sure everything went smoothly.”

“I… I don’t see any reason why not,” Hoku said, blinking. “You just need me to draw specific pieces—what is your client looking for? It sounds like there’ll be a model or a specific scene in mind. And honestly, Sabs, don’t even worry about the payment—I’d just like to help you guys out.”

“I have to insist you take the pay,” Sabo said, shaking his head. “It isn’t coming from Ace or I, honest. It’s directly paid from the client. And I have to say, they do pay rather handsomely.”

“Then you guys should keep the money,” Hoku protested. “I really can’t—”

“You’re the one doing the work,” Sabo said. “I have to insist.”

“But if they’re a friend of yours, I don’t want to make them pay,” Hoku said. “It won’t be too much trouble. I might not even be up to their standards—”

“Our business is strictly professional,” Sabo reassured. Fingers folded neatly together, sitting on top of the table. “You can take the pay, it really isn’t—”

“I’m not going to do the job if you guys are gonna pay me.”

Sabo stopped. Hoku’s face was set, stern. Sabo stared at her for a long, long minute, hands still folded so neatly in front of him and eyes quiet—

Sabo smiled, his face was playful, “Still as stubborn as ever.”

“Enough about money,” Hoku said. I’m sick of thinking about it, honestly. “What are they looking to have drawn? It doesn’t sound like it’s something off the top of my head. What’d they have in mind?”

“Ah, well,” Sabo looked a little thoughtful this time, contemplative. He seemed to be working through his words before he faced her evenly, an air of professionalism coating his friendly demeanor. “I don’t doubt your skills in the slightest, Hoku. I remember you’ve always been fond of drawing people too…”

Hoku waited, holding her cup in her hands. I’ve been taking forever to drink this thing. I keep getting distracted.

“I have to ask though,” Sabo said, “are you well acquainted with drawing anatomy?”

“Sure,” Hoku said, the cup at her lips. She’d assistant taught an anatomy drawing class. “All ranges. You’re right, people are usually my go-to for focus.”

Sabo leaned forward onto his elbows. His hands were interwoven together, placed over the lower half of his face. His expression was neutral.

“Nude models as well?”

Hoku nodded, not missing a beat. She’d dealt with the initial embarrassment of drawing nude models years ago from earlier classes. At the end of the day, it bled into a kind of intrigue to figure out how well you could draw people, at their rawest, at their most bare—it was intimate, and you wanted to make it beautiful. They all had the same body parts at the heart of it—when it came to her pencil and paper, there was nothing else to think about except the drawing. No strings attached.

I mean, Hoku felt an inch of heat creep up the back of her neck. It colored the top of her ears. It’s not like I’ve never been naked with anyone before… either…

Sabo watched her over the top of his fingers.

“I won’t scream or run out of the room if I see boobs or someone’s junk,” Hoku said flatly. Sabo’s lips turned up at the corners, holding back a laugh. “I’ve done nude shoots plenty of times, so don’t worry about that.”

“That’s good,” Sabo said, “See, our client is looking for something of a more… intimate nature.”

When you’re undressed like that in front of anyone, it’s already something intimate. Hoku nodded, following along.

“It’ll be an entirely private affair,” Sabo said evenly.  “Closed quarters. Our clients are trusted people. Strictly business. You won’t have to worry about having your name attached to anything either, unless you’re particularly proud of a piece and want to use it for anything.”

His reflection in the dark cup of coffee couldn’t be seen, less than half full. Hoku’s reflection warbled back against her tea.

“You’ll only have to draw,” he said. “The time frames will range though, forgive me on that.”

Hoku shook her head, “You really have nothing to apologize for, honestly.”

Sabo smiled over the top of his hands. “There won’t be any given cues. They’re looking for something… natural. Whatever catches your eye in the moment it all happens, you choose what you’d like to draw. Whatever stands out to the artist should be worth something, after all.”

Free reign. Hoku nodded thoughtfully. She’d done some works like this before—almost like hiring a photographer, but looking for someone to draw it instead.

Sabo let out a loud sigh. Hoku looked up, curious. His shoulders had slumped, face visibly relaxed as he offered her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. Working this out with you has lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. You have no idea how much you’re helping us out with this. We… we really needed the help.”

I’ll do my best. These guys have always been nothing but kind to me. Hoku straightened.

“When do you think is the soonest you can start?” Sabo questioned.

“Whenever!” Hoku said eagerly. “I’m in school Monday through Thursday, but classes end way before the evening. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

“Today’s Wednesday,” Sabo pulled out his phone, opening up his calendar. “Will Friday be too soon? The timing is perfect since it’s the first of the month…”

“No, that’s totally fine,” Hoku said, nodding. “I can do Friday.”

“I’ll text you the time and address then and further information,” Sabo said cheerfully. He turned his phone over face down onto the table, focusing back on her. “You can send me a list of anything you might need and we’ll have it ready.”

“I have a lot of my own supplies,” Hoku said. “Maybe just let me know if there’s specific size or style your client is looking for. Charcoal, ink, graphite—”

“Classic pencil should do,” Sabo said easily. “They’re not too picky.”

“Will the client be the model?” Hoku said.

“Ace, the client, and myself,” Sabo answered cleanly. “Poses will range. The entire thing will be a bit like… a simulation, if you will. If there was a moment where something stood out and you couldn’t capture it, we have cameras recording in the room on all sides, so just let us know after it’s done and we can send you the tapes.”

Ace and Sabo… Hoku’s brows furrowed. Her gut shifted a little. That… That might get a little weird, won’t it? Drawing them naked is kind of weird.

“We really needed the help.”

“Will any of that be a problem?” Sabo asked gently, brows furrowed in worry.

Hoku’s stomach twisted a bit more.

You’ve drawn your friends in all kinds of ways before. Hoku reminded herself. You helped your classmates with their own projects—you’ve drawn people you know really well nude and different and all kinds of different things—it’s just that. No strings attached. It’s not really intimate at all.

“None at all,” Hoku said.

It was just another job. Pencil and paper. Nothing more.

“And Hoku?”

She looked up. Sabo’s face was earnest.

“If there’s ever a moment where it’s too much, you want to quit, or you just don’t feel comfortable,” Sabo said gently. “You can leave whenever you want. We understand. If you can’t handle it, don’t worry. It’s completely up to you.”

“Can’t handle it?”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” Hoku said, ignoring the old, bitter memory. The tightness around her throat. The sound of water rushing all around her. “Don’t worry.”

Sabo smiled.

.

.

.

Hoku flopped down onto the train seat, knocking her head back on the reinforced glass. The business man beside her didn’t even look up, eyes falling heavy with sleep. Same, man, same.

She shouldn’t be tired. The rest of the meet-up went… amazingly. They stopped talking business and just caught up like old friends. Hoku laughed a lot, ate a lot, constantly being fed this and that as Sabo ordered with reckless abandon—“But it all looks so good!” and when she’d tried to run to the cashier to pay because that’d been her plan all along—she was left staring at the smiling host from earlier as he held up Sabo’s sleek black credit card.

To be honest, she’d felt completely and utterly spoiled. A feeling that always had her on edge and made her feel funny because—I don’t deserve shit like this. Sabo had kindly offered to drive her home, but she had to put her foot down there—and even then that’d been a fight until Hoku had just booked it to the station, waving over her shoulder at a laughing Sabo left behind.

“We’ll meet up before the session starts on Friday with Ace to finalize some things.” Hoku lazily tugged out her phone, scrolling through the new messages. “Give you guys plenty of time to catch up and then get right to work.”

One month. Hoku pulled up her calendar. Aside from school and the impulsive or random hang outs with everyone—ah, gotta drop off food for Law—she had nothing planned. Because you’re an unemployed loser.

She could do this. It seemed easy enough. The only thing that didn’t sit right with her was the nature of how Ace and Sabo would be, but it was possibly they wouldn’t even be nude. Maybe someone wanted a beautiful drawing with two handsome men—yeah, I can do something like that.

It gave her something to do. Keep herself busy. Even if she didn’t take the pay, at least she’d be working.

A notification popped up and Hoku paused for a second before sliding it open. The photo opened up from the art platform she used to post new works and keep herself posted with—

This month’s. Working on the next.

His work was edgy. As always. The sleek slabs of metal had been made to look a chrome silver—they caught off the light, reflecting back the opening jaws of a monster made of his own creation but—

It was awesome.

Hoku stared at the new project. The train rumbled beneath her feet, shifting occasionally.

“Stick to your cars.” Hoku typed out finally, posting the comment with a face. She looked forward, the train fairly busy with other people all heading home from long days and late shifts.

She needed to get moving too.

Her phone lit up in her hands. Hoku smiled, pulling up the message. Luffy’s eager voice through the texts bled through instantly.

“HOW DID IT GOOOOOOO????”

“GREAT.” Hoku typed back. “GONNA HELP THEM ON FRIIIIIIDAAAAAAAY.”

Incoherent, misspelled words came back. Hoku stared, waiting for something to understand until a video was sent. She glanced around, lowering her volume in case and opening up the video.

The camera was violently shaky. Luffy was obviously running—his feet the only thing in view. The phone lifted up to where Zoro and Usopp were lounging on the couch and it looked like Sanji was in the kitchen—

“GUYS!!!!” Luffy’s voice shouted. The man beside her jumped. Hoku winced. “HOKU’S GETTING A JOB! SHE’S NOT A LOSER ANYMORE!”

Hoku slapped a hand over her mouth to stop her laughter. Usopp fell off the couch, startled from his doze. Zoro tipped his head back. “Bust out the booze.”

Sanji popped out from the kitchen, looking hurt. “Hoku honey, I said you could work at our restaurant—”

The video cut out with Luffy shoving a thumb up into the camera.

Hoku smiled, staring at her screen for a long time, holding it in front of her.

She could do this.

She had to.

.

.

.

“We’ll meet an hour before the session starts.”

Hoku stepped into the sleek, polished elevator. The apartment complex was unnervingly nice. She remembered muddy hills. Dangerous forests. Creaky houses and three loud boys. This—one of the clearly nicer apartment buildings in their city—wasn’t what she was used to seeing. Ace and Sabo were clearly doing really well.

“We’ll be doing this at our apartment. This is the address and the code. We have a… studio of sorts for this type of work. Everything will be prepared beforehand so don’t worry about having to arrange anything.”

Hoku adjusted the collar of her blank white t-shirt, tucked into the waistband of her light washed jeans. She pulled her bomber jacket tighter over herself. Her bigger canvas bag was slung over her shoulder, all her supplies shoved in.

“Is there a certain way I should dress?”

“Perhaps nothing too… flashy? Just make sure you’re comfortable. No real dress code. You’ll be working for what might be several hours.”

Hoku’s fingers reached out, pausing at the button. Ninth floor.

Nine wasn’t a really lucky number by her books.

“Our client has already been informed, so don’t worry about anything. You’ll need to stay on the quieter side though, if that’s alright. Your station is positioned nicely in the room so you can move and get whatever angles you need.”

Hoku hit the button. The floor numbers lit up as the elevator lifted her to the apartment.

“We’ll start officially at nine.”

The wall gave way to glass. Hoku glanced to the city lights, flickering and shifting across the streets.

“You can have a moment to do anything you need before we begin. We won’t be able to stop once we start.”

The doors to the elevator slid open. Hoku stepped out, realizing with wide eyes that the entire floor was reserved for a single apartment. How big is this place?

Double doors waited at the end of the hallway.

Hoku shifted her bag and walked toward it, humming a bit to herself. Wonder if Ace is still annoying.

“We’ll walk you through anything else before we start. Answer any questions.”

Hoku stopped in front of the pearly white doors. She stared at it for a second, the tune dying on her lips. Something churned in her gut. A funny feeling.

It’s just another drawing session.

“Thank you again, Hoku. You don’t know what this means to us.”

Hoku knocked firmly against the door. She waited, shoving her hands into her pockets. This’ll be good for you. You need this change of pace. And besides, you get to do it with two good friends—

“You’ll be helping us, a lot.”

Hoku heard muffled footsteps on the other side of the door. A lock, two, slid out of place. The door opened inwards and Hoku looked up.

Eyes like charcoal. A little gray—almost silver in linings. A constellation of light freckles dusted over his cheeks. Sun-kissed skin. Soot black hair that framed the sharp line of his jaw and the familiar smell of something smoldering—like burning pine or with a little more bite to it—

Still a little roguish looking, wild. Still had that grumpy crease to his brows—

Portgas D. Ace.

Ace stared at her for a second and then promptly shut the door in her face.

Still a little piece of shit—

“What’s the password?” Ace said, muffled behind the door.

Hoku snorted. She kept her hands in her pockets.

“I guess I’m not wanted for the job,” Hoku answered. “Thanks for the interview anyway—”

The door swung open. Ace’s hand shot out, grabbing the back of her jacket just as she was turning. Hoku choked, arms flailing as she was roughly tugged back into the entrance of the apartment.

Ace’s bare foot shot out around her, kicking the door closed and twisting one of the locks between his toes—what the fuck you actual monkey—and then he was turning her around to face him.

Hoku spat her hair out of her mouth. Staring.

He had a shirt on for once. Tucked into a pair of black jeans.

That stupid, boyish grin split across his face, showing his always oddly sharp canines and making crinkles show up around his eyes. That dumb, happy, dorky grin—

Hoku’s heart did a funny thing, the kind of thing that reminded you just how much you missed someone and hurt you for not making an effort to see them sooner because—

“Hey, shooting star,” Ace said, voice deep and light all at once, clearly filled with mirth, “How’ve you been?”

“Hey, dumbass,” Hoku said, unable to stop the wide smile on her lips and not even trying to. “Been awhile, huh?”

Ace’s face soured at the name. He grabbed the back of her head, shoving it straight into his chest. Hoku let out a muffled squawk. Her hands shot out, smacking at his arms, but Ace promptly clamped them down firmly in a bear hug around her and lifted her off her feet. “I think you forgot who you’re talking too. Who said you could get that cheeky, huh?”

Hoku let out muffled curses against his shirt, getting a mouthful of cologne and cotton. Ace turned around, about to haul her out of the entryway until Sabo’s head peeked around the corner.

“At least let her take her shoes off,” Sabo said. Ace looked down to where Hoku was already struggling to shove her sneakers off with the other foot despite her constrained form. “You know how she is about that.”

“I have to make up for two years worth of contact,”Ace said simply, without any regret. “It starts now.”

“Make sure you let her breathe first,” Sabo said, amused. “Or you’ll lose her before that.”

Ace relinquished his hold. Hoku almost fell back, tripping over her shoes still half on her feet. Ace grinned, a deft finger sliding through one of her empty belt loops and stopping her from falling onto her ass. He tugged her back onto her feet and Hoku shot both hands out, steadying herself. Her eyes darted around, frazzled and flustered for a second before her face shifted into a deep scowl.

“I don’t miss any of that,” Hoku said darkly. “No wonder I never reached out to you.”

“No, you’re just awful,” Ace said. “Look at you. You look like you’re about to cry. Should’ve called if you were going to miss us that much, shooting star.”

“I look like this because I almost died from cotton suffocation,” Hoku snapped. Ace used one finger to dig something out of his ear, turning away from her. Nope. Didn’t miss him at all. Not one bit.

Hoku thought about tumbling down hills and climbing up trees and their stupid faces popping into classrooms and--

She sniffled. Nope. Not one bit.

“You’re still as grumpy as ever,” Ace said. He yawned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Sabo said you got nicer, guess he was wrong.”

Hoku tossed her shoe at the back of his head. Ace yelped, turning around with wide eyes and grabbing the back of his head in pain. “You hit me!”

“I’m about to kick your ass too,” Hoku said, waving her other shoe.

Ace’s lips split into a wild grin. He turned, raising his hands to tackle her. Hoku readied her shoe, taking in the healthy, lively look in his eyes and the bright teeth and—

Her shoulders couldn’t help but slump a bit. Her brows softened. “You look good.” I’m glad.

She and Ace had always butted heads the most. Fought the most. Tousled with each other the most—but Ace had also been the one she couldn’t help worrying about from time to time because he’d been such an angry brat as a kid and—

Ace looked as though she’d slapped him silly. He stared at her, jaw stupidly slack and then his cheeks flushed a dark red. He slapped a hand over his mouth, stumbling back one step and fumbling for his words as he rubbed the back of his neck furiously.

“You can’t just say stuff like that,” Ace said hotly, “Aw, jeez—you’re cheating—”

“You’re such an idiot,” Hoku laughed, dropping her shoe and stepping into their apartment.

See? Hoku let any lingering, stray doubts fade away. Easy and comfortable. You’re going to be fine.

Immediately the space opened up to a massive living room. A shining coffee table in the center, sleek and new. Windows opened up to a massive view, curtains currently pulled open to showcase the entire city. A long, comfortable looking couch and a separate recliner. A book shelf, neat and organized. Sabo. A shiny new television screen and set and the space opened up to a massive island that shifted toward a giant kitchen—

“How much are you guys making?” Hoku squawked. Sabo chuckled and Ace grinned, crossing his arms over his chest with a puff of pride. “What the hell happened to leaking ceilings and broken drywall—did you rob a bank while I was gone?”

“Being awesome pays,” Ace said with a cocky grin.

“Our work leaves us comfortable,” Sabo said. He appeared at her side, clad in a navy blue turtleneck and black pants. He set down a pair of house slippers for her and smiled up at her. “Seems like you two are already catching up like you’d never left, and I hate to interrupt…”

“Ah, shit, it’s already almost time,” Ace glanced to his watch and back to the door. “Good thing we got everything set already.”

Sabo nodded. Hoku stepped into the slippers. Nice fit. The blonde offered to take her bag, but she waved him off. He curled his fingers back to his chest, looking amused.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Sabo offered kindly. “Take a seat on the couch, we can go over last minute details before we start.”

“No, I’m fine,” Hoku said, swatting Ace’s hands away when he playfully tried to herd her toward the living room. Sabo’s eyes flickered above her head toward Ace and Hoku made her way gingerly toward their living room. “Thank you though.”

“Take your jacket off if you’d like,” Sabo said. “The room might get a bit warm.”

Her jacket was making her a bit more comfortable, if she had to be honest. Purposefully not doing it seemed a bit rude to a second kind request from Sabo though. Hoku dutifully started shrugging it off and she almost jumped when two hands came on either side of her arms, pulling her jacket away from her with a gust of warm skin and heat.

“Still as jumpy as ever,” Ace said above her, teasing.

“Think I can’t take off my own jacket?” Hoku said, pointedly shoving her arms the rest of the way past his fingers.

Ace snorted. “You trip over air.”

Hoku scowled, turning away as her fingers slipped from her jacket sleeves. Ace pulled it away, watching her back.

He handed it to Sabo, who took it with nimble fingers, folding it once and laying it over the back of one of the dining chairs.

The long, leather couch was tempting, but Hoku wisely opted for the love seat placed in front of the coffee table beside the gas powered fireplace. Ace took a seat on the couch, throwing one arm casually behind it and getting comfortable while Sabo walked over to the two of them, taking a seat beside his brother as he set two water bottles down.

“I brought my bigger sketchbook,” Hoku said. “Just in case. But Sabs said you guys had the drawing table set up so I’ll work directly onto the paper and just let me know if your client wants it finalized on a better sheet.”

Ace took one of the bottles, unscrewing the cap. His eyes turned sideways to Sabo, “You two already went over everything, right?”

Sabo nodded, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands together on top of his knee. “For the most part. You remember everything I told you, right Hoku?”

“Read it over a couple times just in case,” Hoku said. She ticked off her fingers. “Quiet as a mouse. I’m no more than just an observer after all, right? Pick a shot that stands out the most to me and draw that. There won’t be any guidance. Keep it all confidential for the client’s and your guys’ sake. Comfy clothes…”

She’d already silenced her phone. Pulled her hair back into a ponytail to maintain an air of professionalism for their client…

Sabo smiled, lids a little low, pleased. “Good job, Hoku.”

Hoku smiled idly at the praise. “Nothing to give me credit for—it’s a job. It’s the least I should do.”

Yeah. Hoku thought resolutely. You can do this. You’re helping a couple friends out.

Ace watched her over the top of his water bottle. His eyes traveled down the half-heart tattoo over her eyes, dipping to where her t-shirt showed a bit of her collarbone where a smattering of petals were tattooed over her shoulder.

“Any new tattoos?” Ace questioned curiously. Sabo glanced to him, pausing mid-way to grab his bottle.

Hoku didn’t look up from checking her materials in her bag, “Maybe one or two. You still got that gang of yours on your back—”

“Our client should be here in a few minutes,” Sabo turned to Ace. His brother’s expression shifted briefly before settling, head dipping a bit in a nod. “I know you’re a bit behind on catching up, but that is your fault for forgetting to call off.”

“It was last minute!” Ace complained.

Sabo glanced to the expensive looking watch on his wrist. He slipped a thin, flat looking box out of his pocket and casually pressed a button, watching it for a moment before he put it back into his pocket. Ace’s eyes flashed back to him briefly, but his attention swung back to Hoku, whose face had turned a bit constipated as she held up her phone.

“Sorry,” Hoku said, a bit sheepish. “Uh, blame Luffy?”

Ace grumbled without real menace, folding his arms across his chest. Sabo smiled well-naturedly, turning his focus back to Hoku.

“As I said, we already briefed our client on everything,” Sabo said. “So don’t worry. She won’t be surprised. You’ll be in your space and we’ll be in ours and you just have to do what you need to do. Don’t worry about anything that happens either—t’s all been discussed. Just focus on what you’re doing.”

Hoku felt the curiosity from earlier stir. She set her bag down on top of her lap. Ace tipped the bottle back, taking a long swig as his adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A bit of water dripped down his chin, past his throat.

“You said it was like a simulation,” Hoku said. Sabo waited, listening, “Is it… Is it going to be like acting something out? Like a play or a scene she’s looking for?”

“You want to see for yourself?” Ace questioned absently. Dark eyes watched her over the top of his bottle, clashing with his light voice—

Sabo shot Ace a chiding look, lined with a bit of bemusement. Ace shrugged.

Hoku’s eyes were on her memo book, scribbling a note to herself in. Look for a good moment. “Hired an artist, not a model.”

“Mmm,” Sabo rubbed his chin, curling his fingers beneath it as his eyes flickered in thought. “Acting something out… You could say it’s something like that. As I said before, it’ll be on a more intimate affair, so I hope you won’t be startled—”

“I won’t,” Hoku promised. She’d already braced herself by going over old sketches of different poses and angles in her nude studies and drawing sessions—she was expecting some of the ‘worst’ in a sense, and reminded herself that it was just—

Another drawing.

Even if you know these guys like brothers, she thought a little limply. Just wash it out of your brain later.

“Perfect,” Ace said simply. “Then there shouldn’t be anymore problems, right? Let’s get started.”

Sabo shot him an amused look. Ace clapped his hands together, locking them behind his head in an easy posture. Hoku nodded, gathering up her bag. “Lead the way—”

“Hoku?”

Hoku stopped. She looked back up at Sabo. “Yeah, Sabs?”

Sabo’s lip twitched. Something flickered through his eyes, concealed beneath gentle amusement and a hint of fondness. He leaned forward, making sure their gazes met.

“I just wanted to remind you again,” Sabo said, warmly, he seemed to wait a bit. Hoku turned fully to face him. He continued, “If any of this seems too much for you or gets too uncomfortable—we can stop. We don’t want to ruin anything or make things weird if this makes you uneasy—”

“I’ll be fine,” Hoku said, smiling brightly. “Don’t worry.”

“If it does get too much though,” Ace added. “Maybe hold off on saying anything till after. I dunno if Sabo told you yet, but it’s hard to stop once we get started—”

“Don’t worry,” Hoku repeated, shaking her head. “It won’t.”

“Then,” Sabo said smoothly. He stood up to his full height and Hoku adjusted her bag. Her eyes dropped to his hands, realizing he was wearing gloves indoors—for the drawing session? “Any other questions before we start?”

Hoku ran over all the instructions twice. This whole thing seemed a little more edgier than she was used to, intimately professional. But it was just another drawing session at the end of the day, right?

Sabo walked around the coffee table, even steps stopping beside her. He lowered a hand to her back, guiding her toward the hallway politely. Ace remained on the couch, watching them with half-lidded eyes as they turned toward the specific hallway—

Hoku snapped her fingers, looking up at Sabo. The brothers turned to her curiously.

“I know you said I had free reign,” Hoku said, eyes wide with realization. “But is there a specific… I dunno, look she might be going for? A moment in this whole thing I should pay attention too or keep an eye out for…”

Sabo tipped his head to the side, considering his answer. Ace tipped his head onto the back of the couch, fingers laced behind his head.

A slow, lazy smile curved over his lips. His canines peeked through. Ace’s expression was satisfied and amused all at once—as though he’d just told the greatest joke in the entire world.

“Probably,” Ace said, “the climax.”

.

.

.

The room—the studio—was massive.

The entire room fitted like a master bedroom. It seemed the entire apartment had several different rooms, using up the large amount of space granted by being the only room on the entire floor of the complex high rise.

Fitted with only two doors—the one they’d entered through and another door on the right that seemed to lead into a bathroom. The room itself was wide.The walls were wood and dark in color. Low, warm colored lights were fixed into the ceiling.  Sleek wooden floors fitted with a nice looking rug right in front of the main attraction.

A single bed.

A big bed. King sized. Plush, neatly folded duvets and silk sheets. It was a dark red in color, not too bold or flashy, prominent. It didn’t stand on a classic bed-frame, instead, raised up from the ground with a wooden step that went around it, making the bed seemed fixed into the floor. A dark, leather cushioned headboard sat behind it, tucked beneath heavy pillows.

There was a lounge chair in the opposite corner, a fancy looking recliner. Night stands were nestled on either side of the bed. One more beside the chair.

Paneled sliding doors to the left promised a closet. Hoku was still taking in the entire show of the room because—it was kind of daunting, really. She tried picking out with a more eager eye good angles, the colors contrasted darkly and richly, so she’d have fun with shading and contrasts but—

Intimate. Hoku thought about Sabo’s description. Definitely seems to be the right word.

She couldn’t help but wonder if this was the classic go-to for all their shoots. She kept calling it a room in her head because it’s what it looked like—but Sabo had said it was studio. It was possible they moved it around and changed it to whatever they needed to fit their client’s demands.

Her work station was nestled in the corner of the room. Almost it’s own little world. It was quite a good distance from the door. Sleek desks arranged for maximum workspace, though humbly recluse from everything else in the room. There were folded up light fixtures and equipment Hoku recognized for photoshoots propped up in case she wanted to change anything. Her work space was a very, very nice looking drawing table, fitted with a light and grooves for her materials, a slot for the paper and—

Hoku stood behind the desk, setting her things down. She played with the back of the chair—it was a roomy thing, arm rests. Wheels on the bottom so she could spin and move it around—

“Perfect view,” Hoku realized, staring at the bed from where she’d be sitting. Of everything.

She glanced up to the ceiling, noticing what looked like paneled boards. Light fixtures behind them? Hoku turned her head, noticing the reinforced hook fixed into the center of the bed’s ceiling. They must move things around after all for different shoots—

“Are you all set up?”

Hoku jumped, nearly knocking into the desk and falling over it. Her head snapped over her shoulder and Sabo blinked in surprise right behind her, pressing a few gloved fingers to his lips. “Oops, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you just—” Hoku shook her head, laughing a bit as she tugged a quick hand through her hair. Sabo’s eyes followed the action briefly. “You’re like a ghost. I didn’t even hear you.”

“Ah,” Sabo’s lips turned upwards in amusement, lowering his hand beneath his chin. “I know what you mean. Ace and Luffy are always so loud, it makes you seem quieter than you are.”

“You look comfy,” Hoku said, eyeing the dark navy robe Sabo had changed into. Kept the gloves on though.

“I’m used to this,” Sabo said with an easy smile.

“Seems like it,” Hoku agreed, taking a seat in the chair. She adjusted it briefly, spinning it around once. Sabo’s brows quirked, looking as though he were trying to hold back a laugh. “Neat studio you guys have set up here. You’ve got a whole thing going, huh?”

Sabo hummed, playing with the back of her chair. “When it became apparent we’d be doing this fairly often, we figured it was wise to make the investment.”

“Private modeling sessions,” Hoku mused, leaning back in the chair. Sabo crossed his arms over the back of the rest, leaning his head onto them as he watched the top of her head. “You know, considering how good looking you guys are, I bet companies would be paying big bucks to have a couple sessions.”

“How much would you pay?” Sabo questioned behind her.

Hoku pursed her lips, pretending to think deeply on the subject. “I doubt I could even afford an hour.”

Hoku laughed, smoothing out her paper and leaning forward toward the desk. She tugged out her pencil case, flipping it open. “My art teacher would kill to have you sit in for a class—”

Her chair shifted. Sabo had pushed it forward a bit. The desk came close to her, not touching, but keeping her nestled tightly between the wood and the chair behind her. Hoku’s hands instantly shot for the edge of the desk, catching herself briefly—

“For however long you’d like, whatever you’d like, a session for you,” Sabo said, his voice was light, breezy. Easy. Not a hint of anything else. There would be no reason for there to be anything else.

“Would be free.”

Sabo’s shadow was light against her desk. Hoku stared at it for a moment, feeling strangely, quietly—was that feeling even really there? Did she really feel that for a second? No, no you didn’t. Why would you feel like that when—

It’s just them.

“So then,” Hoku said, turning her head over her shoulder with a grin. “I could have you two dressed up however and in whatever ridiculous pose I wanted—”

“I do look better in colors that compliment my hair,” Sabo said cheerfully. “And I like—”

“Navy blue,” Hoku jutted a pencil at his robe.

Sabo’s smile was so bright it almost hurt to look at. Something funny twisted in her gut. “Ace will be coming in with our guest in a second, remember everything I told you?”

“Mhm,” Hoku nodded. “You won’t hear a peep out of me. Won’t even be here.”

Sabo fondly ruffled the top of her head, “Good girl.”

Hoku scowled, swatting at his hand. Sabo chuckled, pulling away from her chair while giving it a bit of a spin as he walked from her station toward the bed. Hoku couldn’t help but hope he at least had something on under that robe because—

Luffy, this might be one of the weirdest things I’ve ever done but I swear to god I’m washing it out of my brain when this is all over. Hoku turned her eyes to the paper, already starting to sketch out the design of the room since she’d be aiming for something to take place on the bed. I’m going to do everything in my power not to have to draw your brothers’ dic—

No, don’t even worry about it. Hoku shook her head. No other thoughts. They’re just bodies. You just draw. There’s nothing else involved in it.

Easy.

The door clicked open.

Sabo turned slowly, standing directly before the bed.

Hoku looked up.

She was lovely.

Long, dark hair curled into waves against her back. Her nails were neatly done, manicured and colored like wine to match the tight, form fitting cocktail dress that showed off all her curves in all the right places. Her skin was a light, healthy tan. Her body was nice. Hoku could see what angles she should draw from immediately from how well her legs moved, long and lovely beneath her dress that barely hit her mid-thigh—

Her lashes were long and curled. Her lipstick matched the color of her dress. She looked older—probably somewhere around Law’s age. Ah, but his type is far away from women like this—

She stepped further into the room. Hoku realized she was still wearing her shoes—black heels, strapped up to her ankles. Her head held high. She walked with purpose. Hoku instantly felt a clear wall erected between them—Hoku was Hoku—this lady, this woman, was exactly what girls aspired to be. Beautiful, mature, seductive.

Sabo offered her a warm, polite smile. The woman’s eyes lowered, half-lidded and dark. Hoku watched her throat quiver with a swallow. Her pretty nails tugged at the hem of her dress briefly. Sabo hadn’t even moved.

The air in the studio shifted. It felt heavy.

Hoku held her pencil loose in her grip, uncertain for a moment, waiting.

“You’re late,” Sabo said, politely, “Hotaru-san.”

Hoku only froze for a brief second. That weird flinch you did sometimes when you thought someone was about to say your own name.

Hotaru’s lips pursed. Full. She bit her lower lip, eyelids fluttering and then her gaze turned quickly to Hoku.

Hoku flinched, gripping her pencil. Should she introduce herself? Thank her? Greet her? Her eyes darted to Sabo in a moment of panic, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off Hotaru.

“You don’t have to speak to her. Or interact with the client. Just do what you need to do.”

Hotaru’s face shifted. Clearly unhappy. A pout followed on her lips and Sabo looked amused as she strode further into the room. Heels clicking against the wood. Hoku waited with her pencil ready, a little nervous until she spotted Ace stepping into the room right after her, still in his clothes from earlier.

The door closed behind him with an audible click. His fingers smoothly twisted a lock into place.

Hotaru shuddered at the sound, breathing a little heavier.

Hoku swallowed. She hovered over her paper. Ace’s dark eyes caught hers from her station and he offered her a small smile, throwing her a wink.

Her shoulders slumped in relief. Hoku forced herself to relax. That’s right. They said it was like acting—they’re just models. You’re just drawing. Don’t worry about anything else. It’s just a job.

What are you getting so nervous for?

“You didn’t say she was going to be a girl,” Hotaru said finally. Her voice was high, her lips pursed in annoyance. Hoku’s eyes went round in worry. Sabo tipped his head to the side and she strode forward toward him, hands on her hips. “I told you how I—”

“You didn’t even take your shoes off,” Sabo said. Hotaru stopped completely in her tracks. His voice was even. Calm.

It could be heard.

“She was that eager,” Ace said behind them, walking forward with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Hotaru’s face flushed dark in embarrassment, mouth opening and closing. “Came rushing right into the apartment.”

Ace stopped right behind her. He kept his hands to himself. “Why don’t you tell Sabo what you asked me to do when you came in, hmm? How I took off your jacket. Where you wanted to do it because you couldn’t wait.”

Sabo took a seat onto the edge of the bed. It’s risen level still left him lowered, but it didn’t feel that way at all—

A throne.

Hoku’s fingers twitched. This is a good shot—should I draw this? Her eyes flickered to her paper, ignoring the sweat that had gathered at the back of her neck. The nervousness that tugged at her fingers despite how steady she held her pencil.

It’s like acting. It’s a roleplay. They just need to get in character. The client must want something like this—

Hoku swallowed.

How… How far is this going to—

Sabo set his gloved hands on either side of him, leaning back onto his hands as he watched Hotaru in silence.

Hotaru bit her lower lip. Her cheeks were flushed a dark, cherry red. She turned her head to Ace and then to Sabo and she quickly spat out, “Fine—Fine, I don’t care. I just—Sabo, please—”

“Take your shoes off.”

Hotaru flinched, looking desperate. Ace didn’t move an inch, face set into an easy, uninterested look. Sabo didn’t seem interested in repeating himself a second time. Hotaru floundered for words.

Sabo smoothly slid out a thin, rectangular shaped box from the pocket of his robe. Hotaru shuddered, eyes growing round and fixed entirely on that little box.

Sabo set it calmly at his side, moving his hand from it.

Hotaru bent down. Her fingers quickly worked at her heels, tugging desperately at the straps and chucking her heels into another direction of the room. Ace looked amused behind her and Hoku’s eyes followed the heels, sketching them into the corner of the image. Giving herself something to do.

“You just have to watch.” She paused at the memory of Sabo’s words. “Closely. Pick which scene you think will be the best.”

Hoku’s brows furrowed and she hesitantly looked back up.

“There,” Hotaru said. She took a few steps and then she hit the floor on her hands and knees. Hoku stared with wide eyes. The woman crawled forward, her tight dress hiking up higher on her thighs with each movement. “I did what you asked, Sabo.”

Sabo remained silent, perched on the bed in front of her. Hotaru crawled up onto her knees in front of him and Hoku darted back to the paper. This isn’t a bad shot. Shows power and an attempt to overthrow. But Ace isn’t doing much in it—

“Look at you,” Hoku looked up at Sabo’s clear, resounding voice. It was directive. Her eyes dropped to Hotaru who bit her lower lip, eyes needy as she gazed at Sabo.

He kept his hands at his sides. Those blonde locks fell a bit into his eyes, framing that sculpted angle of his jaw.

He looked completely and utterly—

In control.

Hoku held her pencil tight, chanting a mantra in her head.

No one is even naked yet. She reminded herself. You’ve drawn worse before. This is some… powerplay or something. It’s an act. Calm down. Why are you—

“All worked up?” Sabo questioned lowly.

Hoku flinched for a second before she relaxed. He’s not talking to me. I don’t exist right now.

He raised a hand. Hotaru’s eyes followed every movement eagerly. Gloved fingers curved beneath her chin, raising her head up to look at him. “You normally put up such a fight. I could touch you and you’ll just roll over, won’t you?”

Hotaru’s eyes flashed. Her cheeks flushed but her hands rushed forward and Sabo’s eyes darkened. She fumbled for the bind holding Sabo’s robe together, pushing forward on her knees toward him. Her breasts pushed up against his legs.

Sabo simply watched in silence, as though he were watching a child try something in vain. A hint of amusement in his gaze. It was—

Condescending.

“Aren’t you the same though?” Hotaru said hurriedly. She tugged Sabo’s rope free and she pushed aside the folds of his robe. “You’re acting all calm and collected—but, but you want it too, don’t you? Look at you!”

Sabo’s chest opened up. Taut muscles. A defined ridge. Hoku’s eyes couldn’t help but move to the inch of his side that was exposed. His scar peeked through. Her heart clenched for a second at the memory of how he got the horrible burn—

His muscled abdomen dipped. Hotaru was almost panting at this point, eyes desperate as she fumbled around, licking her lips and the folds of his robe moved apart and—

Hoku’s eyes dropped down and she balked.

She’d drawn people nude dozens of times now. She knew what belonged where. She wasn’t—she wasn’t a virgin. She wasn’t bumbling and stuttering and a blushing idiot when she saw these things—usually when the pencil was in her hand and the paper beneath her—her mind even became almost clinical. It was another limb. Another part to draw—

Memories rushed forward. Her throat went dry. Hoku’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and her eyes instantly trained themselves hard on her paper, refusing to budge.

But this was—but he was—that—

Her gut twisted sharply, unsettled. Hoku’s throat went dry. She kept her eyes on the paper, on the paper—

“You won’t get freaked out or anything right?” Hoku flinched. But this is different. This feels—

Wrong. Weird. Private. Intimate. Imposing. Intruding.

She… She knew Ace and Sabo. She’d played with them as kids. Had funny, weird, awkward moments when they were teenagers—seen them with missing teeth and dumb grins—

But this is different.

“See?” Ace’s smooth voice, teasing, flooded the room. “She can’t even handle it.”

Hoku’s head snapped up instantly. Her cheeks hot but—No, no, that’s not it. I’m sorry, I’m not freaking out—

Hoku froze. Ace’s eyes were on Hotaru, a smirk on his lips. Sabo looked vaguely amused, leaning back on his hands as Hotaru panted on her knees in front of him, hands on his thighs and—

It’s just a drawing. Hoku said. She shut her mind down. Shut everything else out. You took this job. It’s not weird. It’s human. It’s intimate. It’s a scene. It’s like a play. Just draw the scene. Just draw. She gathered her footing back beneath her.

Hoku turned her eyes fully onto the scene unfolding in front of her.

Sabo’s length stood out from the folds of his robe. Hard. Erect. Revealing the muscled, toned top of his thighs. Hoku refused to study it in any more detail, keeping her eyes trained on Hotaru’s face. Hotaru shuffled forward, pressing herself flush between his legs. Sabo’s expression didn’t even flinch or shift. Neutral.

Professional.

There. It’s just another… Hoku’s neck felt hot. She felt a little queasy. Don’t think about whose that is. It’s just another body part.

“See?” Hotaru said breathily, lashes fluttering. “Look at you, baby. Look at how hard you are for me. This did something for you too, didn’t it? You liked this.”

Sabo watched her. Expression void. His eyes were dark and Hotaru pressed a kiss to his thigh. “Normally I have to work so… so hard to get you like this for me… I knew I did something for you. Aren’t I a good girl?”

Hoku’s gut twisted.

Sabo’s erection was hard. Swollen at the tip. Ramrod straight. Hotaru pressed another kiss to his inner thigh, as though seeking permission. Sabo didn’t even flinch despite the physical reaction, expression calm and collected. His lids were lowered, eyes dark and unreadable from where she was.

“You’re so big,” Hotaru said. Hoku’s ears went hot. Please stop. Oh my god. “So thick. You’re perfect, Sabo. I want it so bad. Please, let me make you feel good—”

Her hands inched up his thighs. Sabo watched in almost cold silence.

“What did it?” Hotaru panted. “The dress, baby? The shoes? The hair? I tried to do everything you told me to—was I too bad? What’s getting you off this time? What’s turning you on that I didn’t do before—”

Ace’s hand shot out like a snake. He fisted a handful of those thick, curly locks, tugging back sharply.

Hotaru yelped. Hoku jumped, almost hitting her knees into her desk. Her heart raced in her chest.

“Look at you,” Ace chuckled, dark, throaty. Hotaru moaned, hands flying up to where Ace held her by her hair. “Who said you could run that filthy mouth of yours? You’re so desperate, aren’t you? Crawling all over him like that—you’re dying for it.”

“Please!” Hotaru pleaded. Her cheeks were hot. She tried to turn around to Ace, hands flying to the button on his jeans. “Please! Touch me—anything—please! I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you want—”

Ace let her get far enough to unbutton them. She unzipped his pants, trying to pull him free from his confines.

Her work stationed seemed miles away and still not far enough. The room was hot—the air was heavy.

Should I be doing this?

Her eyes dropped to her paper.

“We really needed the help for this job.”

Job. It’s just a job. It’s an act. Job. Job. Job—

“Look at me.” Hoku’s pencil almost slipped against the papers. Sabo’s voice left no room for disagreement and she glanced up.

He’d thankfully readjusted the folds of his robe. Leaning forward with one elbow on his knee. His gloved hand covered the lower half of his mouth, holding it there as he watched Hotaru in heavy, shuddering silence.

Hotaru watched him, chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Are you in any place,” Sabo said softly. “To be making demands?”

Hotaru shuddered.

“We’re all here to do this for you,” Sabo said. “And you go and run your mouth like that… is that anyway to repay us?”

Hotaru shook her head desperately, eyes wet. Her cheeks were such a dark red, panting heavily.

Sabo had complete hold over her.

Absolute control.

Sabo reached over for the little box. His thumb hit a button softly.

The reaction was instant.

Hotaru tossed her head back, writhing with her hair still in Ace’s loose grip. Her legs shuddered, jerking this way and that. Hotaru moaned, back arching. She bucked into the air once, twice. Ace and Sabo watched in silence as the low hum filled the room.

Hoku pressed a hand to her mouth. Her eyes were wide at her paper. Her face flushed red in embarrassment and she folded in on herself. That’s—That wa—Earlier—

Suck it up, you wimp. It’s just a—

Sabo hit a second button.

“Oh, god!” Hotaru cried. She panted, chest rising and falling and her entire body twisted about, lashing this way and that as she tried to find some kind of purchase, any kind of relief for the pleasure coursing through her body from the little device. “Please—oh, please! Let me come, Sabo. Please, please—”

Hoku filled her head with any other thought. It’s just—this is just porn! This is literally just porn—Usopp! Usopp and—that time you walked on Usopp in the shower—

“You think she deserves it?” Sabo questioned curiously. Looking at Ace over the top of his fingers.

Hotaru’s pitiful moans filled the entire room. Ace gave her head a little pat, watching her squirm. “Why not?”

“Please!” Hotaru gasped, back arching sharply. Hoku flinched. “Sabo! Ace! Please! I’m so close—”

Sabo hit the controller. Hotaru moaned. Her feet skidded across the floor, the humming cutting out completely. She whimpered, hips bucking upwards uselessly as the convulsions ceased and Sabo leaned back onto his hands.

“Take it out.”

Hotaru’s eyes snapped open wide. Hoku choked. Isn’t that a bit harsh—

“Some people are into that.”

Hotaru’s lips trembled. She looked up at Ace pleadingly, but he merely carded his fingers through her hair, offering her a low smile. His canines peeked through. Hotaru whimpered, spreading her legs open as she lowered her hand down to her tight dress. Sabo watched her, hand resting over the lower half of his face, eyes shaded darkly.

Hotaru’s fingers disappeared beneath her dress. She tossed her head back onto Ace’s thigh with a moan, spreading her legs apart. Her eyes kept themselves on Sabo, seeming to hope it’d get him moving.

Sabo remained motionless.

Hotaru let out a little whine. Her fingers tugged and then a ribbon and a thin cord came out, followed by the egg shaped vibrator—

Hoku focused on her paper. She had the entire room sketched out in vivid detail. Shaded in and everything. She had enveloped forms but no real figures. No pose—

“Good girl,” Sabo praised. Hotaru shuddered, watching him hopefully. “Now on your feet.”

Hotaru’s lips parted in desperate protest. Sabo’s face was cold. Unrelenting. Her mouth fluttered shut and she whimpered, slowly gathering herself on wobbly knees and walking toward him like a newborn fawn.

Ace followed behind her, stopping at her back. His fingers dipped into his back pocket, pulling out a foil package. He handed it to Hotaru over her shoulder, slipping it into her hand.

The proud, confident woman that had walked into the room just moments ago was nothing like what she had been. Her knees quivered. Her hair was disheveled. Her lips wet and red from all her biting and Hoku could see the slick shine to the inside of her thighs where her dress had hiked up almost completely and revealed she wasn’t even wearing anything beneath.

She was at their mercy.

Hoku’s eyes flickered to the door and back to her drawing. The events transpiring were leading to one finale. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be seeing this—

“It’s just a simulation of sorts.”

Too raw. Too vivid—

“Sabo—”

“Alright,” Sabo said. Hotaru’s eyes brightened, a kind of desperate Hoku had never seen on anyone before. Not in a situation like this. So… pitiful? “If you want it, then you do the work.”

Hotaru’s lips quivered. She looked about to protest for a moment and Ace stepped closer, hands coming around her sides and dipping low where Hoku couldn’t see.

Hotaru jerked. She moaned, nodding her head rapidly. She struggled with the condom for a second, ripping it open and then she quickly stepped between Sabo’s legs. He shifted further onto the bed, the first move he’d made in what felt like ages. Hotaru followed after, unrolling the condom. She placed it between her lips and her head ducked down.

Hoku turned back to the paper, starting to sketch out the forms onto the bed. There. That’s it. You don’t have to watch the specifics—get the feeling of it.

Hotaru’s lips fell over Sabo’s heavy tip. She licked a long stripe up the side of his length, following a heavy vein and finally moving the condom back between her lips. She took his head into her mouth, moaning just at the fact that she was finally, finally getting closer to what she wanted. Sabo looked almost amused above her, robe pooling down around his elbows as he leaned back and let her work, not moving a finger.

Hoku’s eyes landed on the vivid scar against his left side. The way it carved up his ribcage to his shoulder. She drew that part carefully, softly, on the form that was starting to give more shape to Sabo. She thought about the scar. Focused on that.

Hotaru moaned around him. Wriggling her hips impatiently. Ace knelt on the edge of the bed. He swiftly pulled his shirt off. Muscles rippled across broad shoulders, traveling down to almost slender hips.

His hand reached down, tugging his pants down lower on his hips. He pulled his cock free from its confines, hard. Precum gathered at his tip. Heavy, hot in his hands. His finger dragged across the slit, moving around the heavy head. His slickened hand dropped down, starting from the base and slowly working his way up.

Ace’s head tipped back, barely breaking a sweat. His eyes seemed focused on something else, working almost lazily at his own. Sabo watched Hotaru continue for a second longer, the condom fully sheathed over his length as she pressed kisses to the tip and bent lower—

“That’s enough,” Sabo said. “Go on.”

Hotaru eagerly clambered forward. She panted, reaching up and struggling to unzip the top of her dress. Ace seemed to take pity on her for a second, tugging it down swiftly and she tugged it low, letting her heavy breasts free as she groped desperately at herself. Hotaru twisted one of her nipples, rolling her breast and gazing heatedly at Sabo.

“Am I doing it right?” Hotaru begged. “You like this, right, Sabo? Tell me, please.”

Sabo leaned back on his elbows, calm and collected.

Hotaru groaned in desperation. She readied herself, lining up with his tip and she shot him another heated look, lips quivering, waiting.

Sabo simply blinked, watching in silence.

Hotaru turned, cheeks flushed. Hair clung to her cheeks, to her lips as she let her back face Sabo and she faced Ace. His hooded eyes watched her, inclining his head as he worked at his cock and Hotaru whimpered.

Hoku didn’t watch. Couldn’t watch. Her ears burned.

Hotaru’s blissful, desperate moan flooded the entire room like a siren as she sank low onto Sabo’s length. She took him in entirely, taking him all the way to the hilt as she slotted her hips over his and braced herself on his thighs.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Hotaru repeated. She lifted herself up and slid back with a lewd slick. Hoku winced. “Yes. Yes. Finally—Sabo! Sabo, you feel so good. Baby, you’re so big—so big, so hard, so good. Come on, help me—ah. Sabo, help me—”

Hoku realized just how much a prude she must be after all. Even—even during sex, she’d never been able to utter anything like that-—

Sabo shut his eyes for a second. He tipped his head back, golden strands shifting around his chin. The most of a reaction Hoku had seen so far. She focused on that, ignoring what was transpiring in front of her and how—

Intimate this is—

She remembered every sensual thing she’d ever drawn. She’d drawn sex before—intimate depictions of models—it’s just that. It’s just people.

But no matter how hard she tried—isn’t this too much? She’d never done anything like this before. Panic seized her. She’d never witness something so personal like this where it was happening before her and making her feel so, so—

Uncomfortable.

Hoku froze.

“If you ever feel uncomfortable—”

“If it’s ever too much—”

“Can’t handle it?”

She swallowed. Her throat went dry. Hoku’s eyes hardened and she shoved her pencil to the paper. No. No it’s not. It’s not too much. I’m not uncomfortable. You can do this, Hoku. You have to. So what if it’s new—it’s just different. You wanted to change and try new things—

“Why don’t you put that mouth to use?” Ace said huskily.

Hotaru’s eyes fluttered open and she crawled forward eagerly. Ace was on his knees, hand slipping from his cock and sliding back behind Hotaru’s head. She lifted her hips desperately, bringing them back down onto Sabo’s over and over again, chasing the feeling each time.

The sound of skin on skin. The air heavy.

Hotaru opened her mouth obediently. Ace’s grip tightened on the back of her head and he pushed forward past her lips. His head tipped back, eyes shutting at the feeling before he rolled his hips back and thrusted forward, fucking himself with her mouth.

Hoku couldn’t help the wince. I don’t think I could ever—

Hotaru moaned. Pleasure lined every crease of her face. She worked desperately with her mouth, letting Ace fuck himself as he liked while she moved, Sabo not lifting a finger as she rode herself on him as fast as she could. It was rough, it was desperate and almost pitiful and yet she looked so pleasured—

Hoku’s fingers twitched. I could draw that. Ace was in the picture now. It was obvious the client wanted something like this depicted—it’s just like people who write harlequin novels or direct porn. Just draw it.

You’re not involved.

The single sentence seemed to free Hoku from every other thought. That’s right, you’re not involved. She wasn’t part of the picture. She was safe here behind her station. Look at it from perspective. She had no reason to feel anything else but—

Professional.

Hoku pressed her pencil to her paper, ready, at ease. The faces started to blur and sharpen. She saw bodies. Movement. A scene unfolding.

That’s all it was.

Hoku’s pencil started to move rapidly. She watched the scene less and less, glancing up and down back to it. She had her mold now. She didn’t need to think about anything else. Her mind focused on the drawing and nothing else. The sounds fell deaf around her ears, the actions—

Hoku drew.

Dark eyes watched her from beneath blonde waves. His gaze was heavy, dark. Sabo’s lips twitched and he let out a small sigh through his nose, leaning back onto his elbows as he watched Hotaru get off, riding him with reckless abandon while she took Ace in all the way to the back of her throat, moaning each time.

The perfect picture of nothing but carnal desire. Lewd. Filthy. Raw. The vivid fantasy of any man’s dreams.

Sabo’s eyes narrowed. His lids lowered. Not even watching the moving body riding him like her life depended on it. His gaze remained trained on the only figure out of his reach.

For now.

Ace’s eyes flickered up at the soft sound. His fingers were threaded through Hotaru’s hair, meeting his brother’s gaze over the top of her head.

Ace glanced to the side, watching the way Hoku worked, glancing to them with unfocused eyes and back to her work from beneath his hair. She was seeing them but not seeing them. Watching but not watching. Zoned out as she drew.

Disconnected.

His brows creased slightly. Ace’s grip on the back of Hotaru’s head tightened. He thrust forward with a little more force and she moaned. Loud. Shameless. She worked herself desperately, chasing her high as she came down over and over again on Sabo’s length, grinding her hips, twisting this way and that.

Hoku felt the drawing start to come together. She worked on the details around Hotaru’s face, shading in softer areas, trying to capture the look. Her body curved, meeting both Ace and Sabo so she didn’t worry about anything else. Hotaru was the most exposed.

Ace watched Hoku. His fingers threaded harder. Hotaru moaned desperately around him. His lids lowered. He watched her eyes flicker to and fro, watched her mouth move soundlessly, followed her lips, the way her tongue peeked out as she worked harder at something on the paper—

Ace shut his eyes. He grit his teeth. Heat pooled, fast and molten in his stomach. Hotaru worked faster, bobbing her head up and down while she sloppily lifted her hips to come crashing back down.

Hotaru popped off suddenly, lips bruised and swollen. She panted out desperately with a keen, “Come for me, Ace—”

Sabo pulled her down hard onto his length, driving himself deep into her. Hotaru’s voice cut off with a high, stuttering moan. Her eyes went wide, face flushing with pleasure and Ace grabbed the back of her head, muffling her moans as he thrusted back into her mouth.

Ace’s breathing quickened. His eyes darted back to the desk. More labored. Sabo’s eyes flickered to him. Ace bowed his head, thrusting faster and harder into Hotaru’s mouth without mercy. Tears peeked out from the corners of her eyes, moans punched out with every shift of his hips.

Hoku adjusted his expression based on the sound. Already far, far away from what was unfolding in front of her. Focused on the drawing. The room slipped back into a studio. The bed another prop. The people forms to draw.

Sabo sat up. Hotaru moaned around Ace’s cock at the shift, moving her hips erratically to chase the deeper feeling he’d done just seconds ago, trying desperately to imitate the pleasure he could give her—find it for herself—

Useless.

Sabo’s gloved fingers slid around her waist. His fingers found the swollen nub, working it fast and quickly between his fingers. Hotaru’s eyes went wide and she keened, swallowing around Ace’s thick cock as he fucked her mouth and tears and drool dripped down her chin—

Hoku barely blinked, figuring everything was starting to come down. The room would slip from its high. Her hand worked faster at the drawing. Almost there. Finish up.

You can do this.

Hotaru’s entire body shuddered. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Sabo’s textured fingers rolled a few more times expertly over her clit, stroking it as her hips jerked. She clenched hard around him, trying to tug him over the edge with her. Not knowing how far back at the starting line he still was.

Sabo’s eyes were hooded. He let her ride it out with another sloppy jerk of her hips and then gently, sweetly, patiently guided her twitching hips forward and off. His cock slipped out, still fully erect. It pulsed, heavy and hard. He felt each hot throb beneath the slickened condom and he sat up further as Hotaru fell forward toward Ace.

Hotaru choked. The muted sound muffled as Ace grabbed the back of her head and held her there. He let out a low, ragged breath, barely a groan. He shut his eyes tight, bowing his head low as he came.

Hot spurts filled her mouth and Hotaru’s throat bobbed rapidly, working to swallow it all as she shut her eyes tight. Her hips twitched. On her hands and knees as the bitter taste flooded her mouth.

Hoku erased a part of Sabo’s expression. It didn’t quite fit. She reworked at his eyes, focusing on finishing.

Ace’s fingers unthreaded her hair. He sat back on his heels with a breathy exhale.

Hotaru’s lips slid off him with a wet pop. She breathed, ragged. Her face was flushed a dark red with pleasure. Sweat rolled down her neck, past the swell of her breasts. Her hair disheveled, clinging this way and that. Dress creased. Her entire body shook with effort. A bit of thick white trailed down the corner of her mouth.

Hotaru weakly looked up, eyes wet and hazy. She started to turn over her shoulder. “Sa… Sabo… let me… help you—”

Ace’s large hand slid over her eyes. Hotaru shuddered, letting herself be pulled back into his lap and flush against him. Ace’s free hand snaked around her hip, slowly running a teasing trail right back down to her throbbing, wet heat.

Hotaru sucked in a sharp breath. She moaned loudly, tossing her head back. Eyes covered by Ace’s hand. “Ah, baby—again?”

Sabo leaned back against the cushioned headboard. His fingers nimbly tugged off the slickened condom, tossing it to the side of the bed. He pulled his glove off with his teeth. His hand tugged a small bottle off the nightstand with familiar ease, popping the cap and lathering up his fingers.

The blonde exhaled a long, heavy sound. Sabo relaxed back, slowly wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock. It pulsed beneath his slick fingers, throbbing.

Hoku glanced to his expression for a second and burrowed down into the desk, not even watching any further. It sounded about done—I’m almost done here too.

You can do this.

Ace slid two fingers with ease into Hotaru. She moaned, writhing in his lap, legs opening shamelessly despite the stimulation. Ace kept his hand over her eyes, nudging her legs open a little further as Sabo slowly started to stroke himself, watching.

“Want to help him get off?” Ace whispered by her ear. He nipped at her neck and Hotaru nodded desperately as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her, working her to a second high. “Repeat what I tell you to say like a good girl.”

Sabo’s fingers slid from the base to the head, shifting. He ran a thumb over his slit, eyes following the soft top of white hair flickering in and out of his view. Pinning her in place.

“Sabo,” Hotaru said, listening to Ace’s heatedly whispered words. She gasped, breathy. “Sabo, I missed you so much.”

Sabo let out a heavier exhale. His teeth worked at his bottom lip. His hand tightened around his cock.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so—ah—so long,” Hotaru panted. “I’m sorry—” Ace shoved his fingers harder into her, hitting home. “I’m sorry! I won’t—Ace! I won’t… I won’t leave again!”

Sabo groaned. Hoku worked faster. His most… The most reaction from him this entire time.

She blocked everything out. No other sound slipped past. Completely in her own world.

Deaf.

His cock throbbed harder. Sabo shut his eyes, letting his head roll back as he worked faster, harder, pumping himself over and over again. His lips moved. His teeth ground together.

Ace whispered into her ear, thrusting his fingers up.

“Ah! A-Ah… Please,” Hotaru repeated. “Please… I wan… I wanna feel you. Missed you. I-ah-I’ll be good… so… so… teach me!”

Sabo’s breath quickened. His hand worked faster and faster. He screwed his eyes shut tight, muscles growing taut. Sweat rolled down the side of his chin, past his neck.

“I’ll do whatever you say,” Hotaru babbled. “I won’t ever leave again—oh, god, please—”

Ace shoved his fingers, hitting Hotaru’s spot repeatedly and she cried out the heated words whispered into her ear—

“I’m yours, Sabs!”

Sabo stiffened. His back arched. He tossed his head back against the headboard and shuddered, a low, sweet groan escaping his lips.

Hot spurts of come splattered onto Hotaru’s thighs. Painting them white. She panted, chest rising and falling rapidly as she sank back into Ace’s grip. Ace casually slipped his fingers out of her, wiping them off on the bed sheets as he pulled his hand off her eyes.

Sabo struggled to catch his breath for a second. He reached up with his other hand, pushing his hair back from his face. It slicked over the top of his head, remaining there. He inhaled and exhaled slowly before his eyes fluttered open, glancing to Ace as he watched his brother set Hotaru down on her side, a panting, blissed out mess.

Their gazes met. Ace and Sabo watched each other for a moment before their gazes swung to the side of the room.

Hoku stopped. She stared at the drawing that had finally come to life in front of her. Her eyes went round in disbelief, almost in awe.

For a moment—everything else fell away.

The studio, the people—she’d done it. You did it! Hoku, you did it! You finally made something new—

You handled it.

Pride flooded her chest, desperate and unbidden. The small achievement. This strange, harrowing finish line in the midst of something she didn’t realize she’d started—but you did it. See? You just needed to tune everything else out—

You’re moving.

Ace brought one leg up, resting an arm on his knee. Sabo tipped his head to the side, his hand covering the lower half of his face, hiding his mouth and the way his lips were turning—

Hoku touched the drawing. You did your job. You did it. You’re moving again.

The circumstances wild, crazed. She couldn’t think about anything else except that it finally felt like she was moving again and out of this rut.

Two pairs of eyes, hooded and smoldering stared back at her from the drawing, mimicking the pair watching her just over the top of her desk. Across the room.

The path beneath her feet started to shift. Hoku happily ran forward, eager to be moving.

She didn’t notice the fences sliding up on either side of her.

Didn’t notice the signs pointing where to go.

Didn’t know where she was going. Just happy to be going. Happy to have a destination again and not knowing—

There was no escape.

#Memos #Hoku #Memos AU #Portgas D. Ace x oc #ace/oc #Sabo #Portgas D. Ace #Sabo/Oc #Dark!Ace #Dark!Sabo #Ace/Oc/Sabo #trafalgar law #eustass captain kid #monkey d. luffy #tumblr messed with my italics srry

[imagine-organization-xiii]

Can I get a prompt for Xigbar going on a road trip with his s/o? It can be both sweet and spicy >;) but whatevs you want. I just love me some space pirate.

It’s been 84 years……… but this is finally here! Also on AO3 here. If you like the story, make sure to go drop me a Kudos over there!

Shoutout to @nopantssaturday for her smut-skills. She’s a queen, so go give her some love.

Day 1:

When Saix originally gave you this assignment, he said that the task needed to be finished with patience, intelligence, and not a small amount of luck.  Your immediate thought, though you didn’t voice it aloud, was then why the hell did you choose us?

It was easy enough in theory.  Travel around to certain locations looking for potential recruits and potential keyblade wielders.  Look for spots that would be useful to the organization and places with lots of resources that could be used.  All you needed was a map and a car and a few supplies and you would be good to go.

But then you looked over at your companion and you immediately deflated.

Once Saix had turned away and left the room, Xigbar immediately grinned and exclaimed, “Road trip!” and, as you watched him load your bags in the back of your given vehicle, whistling to himself, you wondered for what seemed to be the fortieth time why Saix thought it would be a good idea to pair you together for this mission.  Xigbar was skilled at what he did, that much was perfectly clear, but his intelligent was sorely lacking and his patience? All but nonexistent.

The sound of the trunk slamming shut stirred you out of your thoughts and you glanced over to wear Xigbar was walking toward you. “Ready to head out?”

You sighed, tossing him the keys.  Well, at least the trip would be interesting.

Day 4:

“Listen, we’ve already fucking discussed this,” Xigbar scolded, swatting your hand away from the radio.  “Driver picks the music and whoever is in shotgun shuts the fuck up.”

“We’ve been listening to the same album for nearly two days.  If we don’t change the music, I’m literally going to jump out of the car and walk all the way back to the Castle that Never Was to tell Saix that our mission was a bust because you couldn’t stop being an idiot. Now change the music before I rip the entire radio out of the fucking car.”

“Fine, if you’re going to keep bitching about it.” He reached over and fiddled with a few buttons until the station changed to a commercial promoting a nearby restaurant.  “Happy now?”

“Thrilled.” You glanced down at the map in your hands and followed the route you were taking.  “Get into the right lane.  You need to take the next exit.”

“What? No, I don’t.  We have another ten minutes until we reach the exit.”

“No, the exit is right here.  You’re going to - and you just passed up our stop.  Fantastic.”

Thirty minutes later, after having to listen to an indignant Xigbar tell you that he knew where he was going and how he sure as hell didn’t need to ask for directions, you finally convinced him to take a U-turn to head back to your actual destination.

“Look, it’s a road trip!” he exclaimed, nudging your shoulder happily.  “It’s all about the unexpected, right?”

“I could actually kill you right now and feel no remorse.”

Day 12:

You were starving, utterly tired of bottled water and granola bars and fast food.  You needed a warm meal, or at least something halfway decent before you completely shriveled away and died in the passenger seat of the car.  Xigbar wasn’t much better.  You can tell that the cramped quarters and the continuous driving was beginning to get to him, so he didn’t even complain when you suggested that you stop in the next town to get food.

It was a small town, one of the ones you never have any business stopping in unless you were one of the locals.  There was a laundromat, a tiny, family owned grocery store, a hairdresser, a gas station, and what appeared to be a bar/restaurant that was the only place completely lit up at this time of the night.  The rest of the view was nothing more than long stretches of highway and grassy flat fields, almost as if the entire place was a ghost town.

You didn’t care.  Xigbar pulled into a parking space in front of the bar, right next to a group of shining motorcycles, impatiently waiting for you to stretch out your sore muscles before joining him.

The bar was surprisingly noisy with a group of leather clad bikers scattered around a single pool table and taking up two of the tables, and with what you assumed were locals from the area in several places along the bar. Several people watched you with suspicion as Xigbar immediately went up to the bar and you took an empty table in the corner with the entire room in your view.  Xigbar returned with two large mugs of beer that was threatening to topple over the rim of the glass, and slid one over to you.  “I ordered us burgers; yours with onion rings and mine with fries.”

“Thank god,” you muttered, taking a whiff of the alcoholic drink in front of you.  “Wow, this smells like piss.  They really scraped the bottom of the barrel for this cheap shit.” And yet you drank a huge glug anyway, eager for anything that wasn’t bottled water for the first time in over a week.

Xigbar frowned at his own glass.  “If this is the best that they have on tap then I’m wondering how they haven’t gone out of business.”

They had to have something better than this, you thought to yourself.  “I’m going to order some shots. You want anything in particular?”

He carelessly waved you away and you slid out of the booth, unaware of the various eyes that were trailing after you.  You placed an order of two shots of the best whiskey the bar had to offer – which wasn’t saying much – when someone stepped up beside you and ordered a group of shots of his own.

“Hey there,” the man said, giving you a wide and what he apparently thought was an enticing smile.  It made you cringe internally.  “What’s your name?”

“Not interested.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” the man said, but there was a horrific and dangerous flash behind his eyes that made you shift away, even though you knew you would be able to snap him like a twig before he ever laid a hand on you.  He reached out, as if to put his hand on your shoulder, when a tall presence stepped up behind you.

“Hey there, babe,” said Xigbar, wrapping his arm around your waist a little too tightly for you to be completely comfortable.  “Who’s your friend?”

“No one important,” you said.  As if he was waiting for the perfect moment to arrive, the bartender approached with four filled shot glasses that you gathered in your hands.  Intending to ignore the other man and just head back to your table, you turned away, but then the world stopped when you felt a hand slap you directly on the ass.

You stiffened, turning to stare in blatant shock at Xigbar who immediately realized what happened.  Suddenly he grinned, showing a row of straight white teeth.

“Oh, man.” He shook his head, laughing to himself.  “He has no idea what he just did.”

Wordlessly, you handed three of the shot glasses over to Xigbar, tossed the remaining one down your throat, then turned back to the man.  He was grinning and sending suggestive looks over at his laughing friends that were huddled in the corner, watching the scene unfold, and didn’t even notice you reel back your arm, clench your fist, and aim straight for his already crooked teeth.

The sound of your fist hitting his face echoed through the loud bar as he was knocked completely off of his feet, stumbling backwards into the barstools, tripping, and crashing directly onto the hardwood floors.

Silence surrounded you.  The man, who was crumpled on the floor and apparently completely unconscious, didn’t move a muscle.  His friends were in the corner, frozen with shock. A group of girls in the corner of the room suddenly started chuckling and raised their glasses to you.

“Does anyone else want to try to slap my ass?” you shouted to the room as a whole, not caring about the weird and slightly terrified looks you were getting.

The bartender raised an eyebrow, but sighed in resignation.  “Well,” he said.  “At least you didn’t make a complete mess.”

“You want me to throw him outside to get him out of the way?” you asked, reaching out to snatch another one of the shots out of XIgbar’s hand.

“Nah,” said the bartender, waving a hand carelessly in the air.  “He’ll wake up eventually.  Just leave him there.”

You shrugged and followed a grinning Xigbar back to your table.

Later, when the two of you had climbed back into the car and were ready to get back onto your journey, Xigbar turned to you and gave you a mischievous grin.  “That was so hot.”

You shoved him away, but couldn’t help the smile that reached your mouth.  “Oh, shut up.”

Day 23:

“I don’t want to be the person who says I told you so, but I fucking told you so.”

From where you sat with your legs dangling out of the passenger seat of the car, you watched as the hood of the vehicle slammed shut to reveal Xigbar’s disgruntled face. His lips formed muttered curses that you couldn’t hear as he trailed around the side of the car.  You couldn’t imagine what was going through his head at that moment, but it couldn’t have been kind in the slightest.

“Stupid piece of shit, vehicle,” he hissed, kicking the wheel as he passed it.  “I’m going to kill Saix when we get back.”

Tensions were high.  You had been stuck in a tiny car with each other for almost a month and it was getting to you.  You had been unsuccessful in your mission so far, living off of shitty fast food and gas station coffee for much too long, and now with a car that had decided to break down, you were both reaching the literal end of your patience.

“Look,” you eventually said, allowing him to pull you to your feet, “there was a little motel a few miles back and it’s starting to get late. Let’s pop over there, rent two rooms, and get a bit of rest.  Then we’ll come back and deal with this disaster in the morning.” You paused, looking up at the sky.  “Besides, it looks like it’s about to rain and I don’t know about you, but jump-starting a car in the rain sounds like a very bad idea.”

Without another word - which was a good thing because it probably wouldn’t have been anything nice - Xigbar waved his hand and opened up a portal that you knew would lead directly to the motel.

“If you think that i’m going to be a gentleman and sleep on this cum-stained floor, then you’re out of your damn mind.”

You surveyed the room with a look of distaste and rolled your eyes.  “I wouldn’t dream of you ever having a gentlemanly bone in your body.  Besides, I’ve shared a bed with worse.”

“Really?  Worse?  Where do I happen to fall on that list?” Xigbar’s eyes rove up and down your body lazily as he flops down onto the bed, arms behind his head.  He seemed completely unstressed at the idea that the motel only had one room available with only one bed, as if he had been in this situation before.  On thinking about it, you realized that his life was wild and he probably had.

“In the top five, easily.”

“Hm.” The eye that you could see from where you stood near the side of the bed fell shut.  “I’m flattered.”

“You really shouldn’t be.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence - at least, for you. Xigbar seemed to be completely at ease as he lounged on top of the beds comforter, even in his stiff organization attire. That can’t be comfortable, you thought. But you quickly decided that his comfort was not your concern. Why did you care anyway? You had more pressing matters to deal with, like getting out of your own gross clothing.

“I’m gonna go see if this shower is as dirty as the floor,” you said as you picked up your overnight bag and the cleanest looking towel you could find. Well, they all looked clean, but who could be sure?

“Is there room for two?” Xigbar called out as you frowned in distaste at the somewhat dirty bathroom and the tiny shower.

“Not really,” you said thoughtlessly.  There was a small beat of silence as your cheeks heated.  “Not that I would let you in the bathroom with me anyway, but this shower is tiny as shit.  It doesn’t even look like there’s room for one.” You looked into the shower. It was certainly tiny. A standing shower with a curtain that was too small to even hide behind.

“Well, we could always get real close together to save on water..” Something about the way that those words came out from the other room made your insides twist. It was… huskier than the way Xigbar normally spoke. After a second of processing your reaction you quickly scrambled to turn on the water of the shower to muffle out what had just happened and to definitely pretend that you hadn’t heard him speak.

“What was that? I can’t hear you over the water!” You shouted back at a needless, exaggerated volume. You shut the door that successfully separated you from Xigbar and started to shed your cloak. As you slowly unzipped, you tried to process what had just happened. What the fuck was that? You thought. I have never heard that neanderthal talk like that. And especially not to me. What is he up to? What did he do to ME?

It had been a while since anyone had come even close to talking to you like that. It must be that. You’d been in this car for almost a month and it made you desperate. Problem solved. No other explanation was needed. You shed your coat and hang it onto the back of the bathroom door. After removing the rest of your clothes, you slide into the small shower. It was cramped. Too cramped. There was no way that more than one person could have joined you in this tiny thing, even if you had wanted to have a little fun.

You quickly reeled back and mentally scolded yourself for even entertaining those sorts of thoughts, but it was too late. Suddenly your mind was jumping through random scenes like something from a trashy porn.  The sensation of two wet bodies rubbing against each other with the water pouring over them. The clashing of wet lips and water sliding down your back. Fingers pressing into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.  Your body shivered with anticipation as your mind went deeper and deeper down a rabbit hole of lust and desire. Your body ached for physical contact. Your hand reached up and grabbed your breast as your mind wandered even further into places it really had no business being. Between the feeling of your hand and the sensation of the flowing water, you can’t help but let out a quiet and contented sigh, but as soon as the quiet noise left your mouth, there was a swift knock at the door.

Xigbar’s voice was loud and sharp over the soft pounding of the water against the shower floor.  “Everything okay?  You’ve been in there a while.”

“U–Y-Yeah Everything’s fine!” You quickly stuttered out, cringing at how high-pitched your voice sounded. You need an excuse. NOW. “I was starting to fall asleep because the water was so warm.”  Nice recovery.

“Well… uh. Okay. Well. I’m gonna go to bed then.  Try not to wake me up when you get out.”  You let out a silent sigh of relief as you hear his voice fade and he moves away from the door. That was close. Too close. You really were desperate. As soon as this crappy mission was over, you vowed to yourself that you would re-download KeyGrindr on your gummiphone. Because this couldn’t keep happening.

You stepped out of the shower and dried yourself with one of the hotel towels. Out of your bag you pulled a new set of underwear and your pajamas. You secretly wished that you had packed better pajamas than your shorts and your “I went to Agrabah, and all I got was this Tshirt” T-shirt. But it would have to do.

You quietly opened the door and the light from the bathroom flooded into the now darkened motel room. Xigbar was already under the covers, probably still in that stuffy coat that he never seemed to take off, and was turned away from you toward the wall. Huh, He must have been more tired than I thought. You turned off the light to the bathroom and blindly felt your way to your side of the bed, trying not to bump into any stray pieces of furniture. You pulled back your covers in the dark of the night and climbed into the bed.

From the other side of the sheets you could hear Xigbar’s slow, even breathing. It was.. Oddly soothing. Even though the man could be a total brute sometimes, you still found yourself briefly soothed by the endless rhythm of the man’s breathing. Briefly. Once again your mind drifted back to your thoughts in the shower and the way Xigbar called to you. It made your insides feel like fire, an emotion you had never felt about the rogue before. You tried shifting into a comfortable position to help you doze, but sleep doesn’t come.

Suddenly your nose is assaulted with the smell of aftershave. Or maybe it was soap. The smell was alluring. How did you not notice this scent before? You suppose that you had never been close enough to notice. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you realize that Xigbar is no longer wearing his leather coat. Actually, he wasn’t wearing a shirt at all. Oh my God he’s in his underwear! All of a sudden you felt the heat rise in your face, thankful that the darkness was hiding your flushed skin and that he was still asleep to not hear you panicking.

Or… maybe he wasn’t still asleep.

Xigbar turned over toward you, blinking sleepily in the dark.

“Sorry,” you said softly, your voice puncturing the stillness of the room.  “Did I wake you?”

“You’re fidgeting a lot.” He said, running a hand over his tired face.  “And why are you whispering?  We’re the only two people in here.”

“I don’t know,” you replied, quickly feeling sheepish.  “It just feels like you should whisper in the dark, you know?”

He didn’t respond at first, the silence of the room taking over once again, but this time, the silence made you nervous, flustered. Why were you acting like this?

After another moment, Xigbar smirked. “Oh really?”, Even in the dark, his eyes glinted golden and your heart skipped. “And do you have… experience, with conversations in the dark?” There it was again. That purr, the husky tone of voice he used earlier. Was he just playing? He must be just joking. Yeah.

“Well…” You might as well play along. “I do have… Some… experience…” as you speak, you bring your hand up to push your stray hair behind your ear. Some might call your action flirtatious, but you were just doing it to push the hair out of your eyes.  There was definitely no other reason whatsoever.

Then, he made a noise. Something that sounded like a growl. Or a moan? You weren’t sure. “Well, Doll, do you have references? I can’t share a bed with someone that doesn’t have good references.” Oh now he was totally messing with you - Wait. Did he just call you Doll? Had he ever done that before? You didn’t remember and you were much too busy calculating your next move to figure out if he ever had.

“Well I could provide you with an entire resume,” you found yourself inching closer to him in the  center of the bed, ”but I don’t think that you would be able to handle some of the finer details.”

Xigbar matched your movement with his own and soon you were both crossing the invisible divide in the middle of the bed. His golden eye was entrancing. It was almost like it was pulling you in even closer. Even in the dark you could see the lust-glazed look.

“Try me,” he growled.  You two were close now. Insanely close. You could feel the heat of his skin as your heavy breaths mingled in the small space between you. You body was completely aflame, aching for physical contact. This suddenly wasn’t a game anymore. And in an instant, lips collided, bodies made contact and brushed against each other. You weren’t sure who made the movement first or if you both moved forward at the same time. The kiss was rough and steamy, but didn’t last more than a couple of seconds. Both of you were breathing heavily. A kiss like that could take the wind out of your lungs and make you forget your own name.

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do that.” Xigbar gruffly whispered. “All month… All damn month you were such a fucking tease. And you didn’t even realize it.” You kept trying to catch your breath and looked into his eyes. Man, that was..something. But it certainly couldn’t end there because you sure as hell wouldn’t let it. You were already in way too deep, so why not continue?

You swung a hand behind his head and pulled him into another tight embrace, digging your fingertips into his neck. As you pulled each other closer, you could feel the sharpshooters frame against your own. You took the hand that was behind is head and ran it down his chest. Under that coat, he was lean, but muscled. As your fingers ran down, you could feel the different scars that dug into his skin. The kiss ended as Xigbar looked down at your hand and smirked. “Like what you see there, Doll?”

That cocky bastard. “Eh,” you shrugged. “It’s alright, I guess. Not the worst man to share my bed, but you’ve yet to prove yourself as one of the best.” You smirked back at him. Xigbar’s grin widened as he pushes you onto your back into the bed.

“Not the worst, huh? Well I guess I’ll need to change that, you minx.” His hands pushed you down further into the bed as his lips crash into yours again. Tongues soon collided and danced together, taking in the delicious feeling. Soon, you feel his calloused hands wander down to the hem of your shirt. “Heh.. Nice shirt.. Though I think it’s going to look nicer on the hotel floor..” His fingers curled underneath the fabric of your tacky tourist tee as he gently pulls it up over your head and throws it away to somewhere on the floor.

“That was a terrible line, even for you,” you said, chuckling.

“Hmm..” He hummed in admiration. Xigbar placed a hand over your covered breast and gently kisses the exposed, soft flesh peaking from the top. He then kisses slowly up your breast to your shoulder, and then to your neck. You let out a soft gasp as he nibbles at the sensitive flesh. Sensing your reaction, you could feel the sharpshooter grinning against your skin. “Jackpot.” He whispered into your ear, the soft gruffness in his voice causing you to shudder. His lips returned to the tender spot, massaged the flesh with his lips accompanied with small love bites, which caused you to gasp and moan under each movement. You could swear you heard him chuckle to himself into your neck before he bites down. Hard.  You gasped out in shock as he sucked on your neck with a harsh nip of his teeth. After a moment, he pulled away and looked down at his handiwork. You didn’t need a mirror to check. From the way your skin tingled as he pulled away, you knew there was a big, dark hickey on your neck.

Xigbar let out another chuckle and looked down at you underneath him. As fun as this was, you couldn’t let this cockiness of his last a second longer. You mustered all of your strength and swiftly pushed the sharpshooter onto his back, straddling his waist from above. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body as his hard length pressed into you through your underclothes. You looked down at the man beneath you as you swiftly unhooked your bra and flung it across the room, never breaking eye contact. Never before had you seen his jaw drop so blatantly.

“Well damn, if that’s not the most gorgeous rack I have ever seen.” he mumbled as his hands start reaching up towards your now exposed breasts. But before they reached their destination, you smacked his hands away. He sharply inhaled at the slap, then released it with an irritated groan.

“Uh uh uh, loverboy,” you teased as you wagged your finger at him. “Not just anyone gets to enjoy these. You’ve got to prove yourself worthy first.”

“Oh?” Again, the cocky grin returns, “And how would I be able to prove myself worthy?” His hands slid upward and gripped your thighs as he spoke. This… gives you a thought. A devious thought.

“Well, I have a few ideas if you think you’re up for the challenge… “ You rose to your knees and slowly removed your panties, sliding them down your legs and off onto the floor with the rest of your clothing. You now hovered over him, bare and wanting, sliding your body up towards the top of the bed. Xigbar’s hands were still clutching your thighs as he slowly guided you until your body hovered over his head.

You place your hands on the headboard to hold yourself in place as you slowly lower yourself. You felt his lips placing long, tender kisses along the inside of your thigh. You let out a breathy moan and he slowly makes his way upward, leaving the trail of kisses behind. Slowly. Slowly, he moves, each second more and more agonizing than the last. As he reached the place you deeply desired him most, he turned direction with kisses back down your leg, causing you to let our a whining moan in the process.

The kisses stopped as he pulled away and looked up at your flushed and wanting face. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Was there something you wanted from me? Why don’t you just tell me?” He places another kiss on your inner thigh, dangerously close the your wet aching core that a whimper escapes your lips.

“You know what I want, so maybe you should get to work and stop messing around before I get bored.” With your retort, you lowered yourself just a little further, urging him to continue, and Xigbar let out a low growl that sounded much more dangerous than the one from before.

“Hnng alright, babe, but only because you asked so nicely.” You rolled your eyes with a scoff, but as you are about to let it out, his lips make contact to the one place you desire most and that scoff turned into a breathy moan. You couldn’t help yourself. The rogues tongue glides against your folds, drawing shapes and curves you didn’t even know possible but a vigor that you had never seen. He lapped at you like a man starved, cherishing every moment. You felt goosebumps form on your arms as he continues. You could feel the inner windings of your body getting tighter and tighter as his tongue quickened its place. It just felt so good that you didn’t want him to ever stop. You started moving your hips in tandem against his mouth as he worked, the spring winding tighter and tight. You felt like you could burst from his tongue alone. Who was this man? As your body’s cork wound itself tighter and tighter, you were about to burst. You were close. You were so close. You could feel your orgasm getting closer and closer. The sounds your body was making were those you had never heard before. But as your muscles started to quiver, on the verge of your release, everything stopped.

“F-Fuck…” You stuttered out, breathy and desperate.

You let out an aggravated moan as you felt his hands on your thighs push you up. You could hear the man beneath you letting out a low chuckle, clearly amused with himself. What a cocky bastard.

“What is it, Princess? I didn’t prove myself worthy?” he teased.

You looked down at the sharpshooter, a glint of mischief in his eye. “You’re not in a very good place to be teasing right about now…” you smirked, swiftly attempting to reach backwards and grab at his length.

“Oh am I?” And in one swift motion, you were flipped onto your back again.  His lips crashed back into yours and you could feel the taste of you on his tongue. It was unexpected and made a shiver go down your spine. As your lips locked, his hands reached down and shimmied himself out of his own boxers. You were in the heat of it now, lips locked as you felt the heat of your bare skin rubbing against each other. Xigbar soon parted your legs and rested himself in between them, his cock positioned at your entrance. He moved his lips from yours and looked up at you with that one gold, glistening eye.

“You ready for this, dollface? After this, there’s no turning back. You’ll never be able to fuck another man again without thinking about what I’m about to do to you..”  He was a dick, but if this was how he was gonna ask for consent, you’d take it.

“Hmmmm…” You slowly pondered, giving the man in your bed a cheeky smirk. “AM I ready?” You sat in the silence for a moment, savoring the anticipation and annoyance on your lover’s face. “Well, hmm .. yes, I Guess Ss–OH!” But before you could even finish your comeback, Xigbar had taken that ‘yes’ and ran with it, gripping your hips roughly and pushing himself inside you with a great force to the hilt. The first thrust, in your opinion, always seemed to be the best.  You both let out a moan in unison at the relief and overall ecstasy of coming together. After a second of savoring that moment, the rogue started to move himself again, slowly at first, pumping himself in and out of you.

The pace was slow and deep, but agonizing. You knew what you want, and you wanted it as soon as he could give it. You bucked your hips in to match his thrusts, but it didn’t help much. “Xigbar…” You breathed, throwing your head back into the pillow. “Please… couldn’t you go a little faster?”

He looked down on you, matching your gaze with his own. “Oh? Was that a please I heard? What has made you so… docile, my little poppet? Was it… This?” Suddenly Xigbar changed his pace, slamming into you quickly and harshly, causing you to moan out in delight. This is what you needed.  He continued to thrust into you at a maddening pace, feeling your body take his blows. He felt so good. Ridiculously so. Feeling his body slam into you like this was something you had been craving for quite some time.

All of a sudden you felt one of his hands leave your hip, pressing itself against the bundle of nerves that had yet to be touched. His fingers covered in your own heat, he massaged and played with your clit, matching the rate of his own thrusts.  That spring in your stomach was winding tighter and tighter as Xigbar quickened his pace. You moaned out his name as you reached that peak, hoping that he wouldn’t stop. Though if Xigbar stopped this time, he may not make it home to base alive. But as you feel your orgasm coming closer and closer, there is certainly no sign of him stopping.

“Doll, I’m close… Come for me….” The devilish man grunted out. His thrusts became harder and faster and you could feel your orgasm coming closer and closer/ Your orgasm comes in waves of pleasure, your muscles spasming as you gasp and your vision goes white.  And then, there was one final moan, one final thrust as you feel the sharpshooters seed pour into you. And then… time seemed to have stopped.

Xigbar looked down at you, the deep lust in his eye now replaced with exhaustion.. “Hah… hah… so…” He slowly pushed himself up, off and out of you and onto his side, leaving you feeling what was left of him drip out of you. “How was that? One of the best?”

You take a second to catch your breath before responding.. “Hmm,… well it certainly was an interesting experience…” You paused. “But… there was room for doubt. I think we might need to do further testing before I can make a formal decision.” You grinned. “Further experimentation.  Just so I can be sure.”

“I’m totally fine with further experimentation - you know, being the scientifically inclined man that I am - but you know as well as I do that that was the best damn lay you’ve ever had in your entire life.”

“Well, we’ll see about that. We’ve still got a lot of road to cover, and you never know. I might just find someone better.” You smiled as you turned onto your side, getting comfortable.

“Oh we’ll just see about that, sweetheart…” Xigbar retorted, only to turn and find that you had already fallen asleep. A tiny bit of masculine pride swelled in his chest that he pushed you to the point of falling asleep that quickly. He watched you as your chest slowly rising and falling, taken by the sweet raptures of sleep.  It was relaxing. You looked so peaceful and it even seemed to ease his weary bones.

Maybe it was the feeling of ease that you gave him, or maybe it was the post-sex atmosphere messing with his brain, but he some found himself speaking to you in a hushed voice. In nothing but a whisper he grumbled out his thoughts, low enough as to not wake you from your slumber. “When I said that I had been waiting for this, I meant it…. You always.. I dunno. You get it. You get me. I’m not good at this mushy crap but you know what I’m saying….  I’m no Prince Charming by a long shot and I’m not gonna lie and say that I am.. But I hope that you could learn to like someone like me eventually.”“He chucked lowly to himself. “Hell maybe even love me. But that’s a real longshot.”

Xigbar then rose from the bed, deciding that he should probably go shower after all of the mess you two had gotten yourself into. He looked down on your sleeping form one final time. Why was it that he couldn’t tear his eyes away? Usually once he was done, he was done. This was… different somehow. He needed to get into that shower. The water could probably clear his head. But before he turned to the small bathroom, he gently reached down and pulled the motel comforter up over your shoulders, ensuring that you stayed warm. “Ah…well.. Goodnight. I’m just glad you’re asleep to hear all of this soft crap. Can’t have you thinking any less of me, now.”

After a moment of silent steps, you heard the soft click of the bathroom door. Your body shifted under the blanket and you pop your eyes open. What… What the hell was that? You thought. You didn’t know. Hell, you didn’t know if all of that really happened. Maybe you were dreaming. That must have been it. You fell asleep and dreamt that he just said those things. All the same, you still could swear you felt a deep pang in your chest, almost where a heart used to be. It was a painful pang, as if your body was longing for something that it couldn’t have. But at the same time, it almost felt warm.

#ask #anon #imagine #xigbar imagine #organization xiii imagine #organization xiii #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts imagines #lemon