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yuuri-nsane · 3 years

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Fandom: Yuuri On Ice

Ship: Viktuuri [Viktor Nikiforov x Katsuki Yuuri]

T/W: nothing, apart from swears, mild dirty jokes and recurring mentions of nudity? BAHAH IM SORRY I PROMISE THERES NOTHING GRAPHIC THO TOTALLY SFW

Summary: Yuuri Katsuki wanted nothing more than to spoil his lovely poodle, Vicchan, and if that meant playing a game of Truth or Dare in a broken elevator to attain the likes of a beautifully pink chew toy, he was game.

[Inspired by a little rough imagine I posted a while ago]

a/n: honestly dont even ask me how this happened, happy holidays!! i wish you all a very merry chrysler, and if you dont celebrate, a very happy december!

oh and dont forget, constructive criticism is always welcome! dont hesitate to tell me what you think of my work, and also! please please ple e a a s e tell me if you see any spelling mistake or grammatical errors! THANK YOUUU!

also please note that this will be posted to my ao3 account: @yuuri_nsane

---

This was not how he'd planned his Wednesday evening, two days before Christmas, to go. No, not at all.

He thinks back to the start of the day, wondering how exactly he'd wound up sitting in a broken elevator, positioned in between the third and fourth floor, having just ended a dastardly game of Truth or Dare with quite an attractive man.

Said attractive man was not only attractive, but also very, very naked, save for the pair of patterned purple socks still clad on his feet. He also had the entirety of the Russian National Anthem scrawled on his left leg, as well as a black eye and terribly painted nails: a bright hot pink that shrieked against impossibly pale skin. Not to mention the taunting pastel dog toy he was now cuddling with.

Yeah, no. Yuuri was stuck in a predicament - one far too mortifying yet amusing for his own comprehension.

How in the ever-loving fuck had this happened?

---

Katsuki Yuuri was a good person.

He loved his mom, fed his dog, never showed up late to work.

He was good at recycling - always remembering to separate the cardboard tube and plastic lid of the Pringles' can he'd eat out of during a late night binge.

He watered his plants religiously, and no, it didn't matter that one out of the four of them were fake. He loved all his plants equally, thank you very much.

He held the door open for people no matter how far away or close they were, and even when they did that awkward little jog, he made sure to give them a warm smile.

He cleaned after himself, not at all tolerating any bits of scrap paper or crumbs left as residue from a busy night of studying and stress eating, no matter how tired he was.

He even cleaned up after other people! Like, for example, when his roommate and best friend, Phichit Chulanont, had eaten too much takeout and could barely move - Yuuri had offered to clean up for him. Phichit, with somewhat of a moral compass thanks to Yuuri, had protested at first; Yuuri had replied with a gentle 'tsk' and a 'go get some rest, you can make it up to me by doing the dishes tomorrow and the day after that'.

And so, to conclude, Katsuki Yuuri was a good person.

So why, why exactly was he here, in the middle of a bustling mall at 2pm, so close to being trampled on in the midst of hectic shopping, staring down an unfairly good-looking stranger, both their hands having met in the middle - the middle being a cutesy dog toy, the last one in stock.

Yuuri had naively left his Christmas shopping till the very last minute, much like everyone else present in the store. He hadn’t intended to buy Vicchan another toy, Lord knows he had plenty more at home and that Yuuri’s bank account was suffering because of it. But it was Christmas, and if anything, his dog deserved the world.

One more as a little festive gift wouldn't hurt, and it certainly brought Yuuri a step closer to giving Vicchan ‘the world’.

And so, he needed this.

And he was not going to give up that easily, despite the fact that the universe decided to make his life just a little bit harder, since the opposition made Yuuri slightly more weaker in the knees than he'd like to admit.

He winced in the bright white lights of the shop, the Christmas music blaring and irritating, no longer as heart-warming as Yuuri had found it when he first entered. The excessive Christmas decorations made him cringe - it was as if one of Santa’s elves had puked all over the place.

"Why," the other man began, his voice oozing with honey, with charming remnants of an accent. His soothing verbal confrontation had caught Yuuri’s undivided attention. His hand was inching closer to the catalyst of this hassling event and Yuuri barely fought the urge to slap it away (or hold it tenderly), "I believe I saw this first."

Oh, heck no.

Yuuri scooted closer and desperately tried to ignore the blooming heat on his cheeks, "Actually, I think I did."

This did nothing to deter to the other man, who with his height, easily stood over Yuuri and glared ever so passive aggressively.

"Well, okay then! Since we can’t decide who gets the damn toy, why don't we settle this like men?"

The black haired male stared frozen in shock. He was not looking for a fight, no matter how eager he was to spoil his little poodle with all the gifts he warranted and more.

"Uh, I don't- um, I'm not looking for trouble!" Yuuri ranted swiftly, slowly pulling his hand away from the dog toy.

So close, yet so far.

It wasn't like he couldn't fend for himself, God knows he was stronger than most people with the avid workouts he did to prepare for dancing recitals.

(And let me tell you, Yuuri has never skipped leg day. Ever.)

But at the same time, he knew it would be less than ideal if the young man spent his Christmas holiday sporting a black eye or something similar.

In response to his quick exclamation, the silver haired male beside Yuuri also retracted his hand, a look of bafflement evident on his chiselled features.

"I-You..." he started, looking at Yuuri far too intensely than the other male was admittedly comfortable with.

A few seconds later, he burst out into laughter, his nose scrunching and eyes crinkling. He tilted his head back, arms grasping his middle.

He gasped for air, dramatically wiping a tear away, "You thought - you thought I wanted to fight for it! Like in some sort of - cliché romance where the two love interests fight for the main character's hand in marriage! Or something!" He babbled on, leaving Yuuri flustered and awfully ready to make a run for it.

In his fit of embarrassment, he raised voice, "Well, what the hell did you mean by 'settling this like men'! Of course I thought you wanted to get physical!"

Yuuri regretted the words almost as soon as they left his mouth.

"Physical? Well, I'll have you know I have a bit more class than that. I'd take you out on a date first, if anything."

The shorter male sputtered angrily, his blush not at all dying down, but instead doing the opposite. He glared at the other man, cursing his stupid pretty face and his stupid pretty voice.

And much to his luck, the blue-eyed villain pursued his words, snickering, “Not to mention here of all places! Quite the voyeur, are we?”

Yuuri was a Good Person™ - what the hell had he done to deserve this!

The taller male must've noticed Yuuri's increasing discomfort, and his teasing came to halt. He inclined his head in the direction of the damned chew toy and reiterated, "What I really meant was we could buy the toy and decide outside who gets to take it - like civilised human beings. You rest your case, I rest mine! Sound good?"

Yuuri pondered, before slowly nodding his head. It wsn’t like he had anything better to do, and he really wanted this dog toy. If only he knew the events that would follow soon after, he might’ve have ran fast and far before giving a real answer.

Fortunately, it seemed that both of them were just about finished with their shopping, the dog toy being last in each other's spontaneous list.

The light haired man took this as inclination to pluck the dog toy off the shelf, giving Yuuri a confirming look, and leading them both to the checkout.

They squeezed their way through the crowds; meandering, lifeless beings that swayed from aisle to aisle. Once they made it there, they payed for their own items separately, before splitting the money for the toy.

Afterwards, they made way to the elevator just two shops down, both agreeing to settle their dispute in the parking lot. They were on the top floor of the shopping centre, after all. Yuuri figured that the both of them would be more comfortable if they weren't surrounded by other people, who could very fairly judge them when arguing about the baby pink dog toy. Said baby pink dog toy had somehow found its way into Yuuri's grasp. If he wasn't such a good person maybe he'd have run away by now, pastel chew toy in hand. But damn it, he was, so he swallowed down the urge.

They stepped into the elevator, the shiny silver doors sliding apart before meeting in the centre. A sickening array of tinsel was hung to the upper corners, along with a few baubles hanging from them. Yuuri noticed the red ribbon twined in with the tinsel, and wanted to grimace at its tackiness.

The young dancer then turned to his companion, now realising how dangerous this situation actually was. Without thinking he blurted, "You're not a serial killer, are you?"

The other man raised an eyebrow. "Well no, but I wouldn't put it past myself to become one for the sake of that toy." He waved nonchalantly at Yuuri's hand, the chew toy dripping from his fingers.

Yuuri instinctively took a step back.

"Oh my God, I'm kidding!" The man chuckled, turning away and watching the numbers at the top of the elevator decrease gradually.

"So, uh, what do we do now?"

To this, the male looked back at Yuuri, and replied simply, "I come up with a sob story to convince you to give me the toy!"

Yuuri pursed his lips, unimpressed. He was tired but by God, was he so not above from entertaining the notion. "Okay, then. Go ahead. After you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

He was met with a smirk, a smirk far too devious for Yuuri's liking. Before the other man could attempt to pull at Yuuri’s heart strings, however, the room jarred and the two men in the elevator were sent tumbling to the ground.

"What just happened."

It came out more like a statement than a question, a robotic string of words that spewed from Yuuri's lips involuntarily.

"I think...I think the elevator just...broke down."

They stared at each other for a moment, and the next words came flying about - who said them exactly left a mystery.

"Oh, fuck."

---

They spent the first five minutes panicking, calling for help in such an inglorious manner that Yuuri was sure they'd both lose their voices. They spent the next few moments afterwards checking their phones, and resentfully realising that somehow, there was no reception. And that, of course, since the universe seemed to love good ol' Yuuri, that his phone was at a sad two percent.

His company's was no better, where his phone was at a fifteen, to which the taller man responded with a sheepish, 'I forgot to charge it last night too.'

They realised then that they had no choice but to wait until help miraculously found its way to them, and so they indulged in the waiting game.

The next hour or so consisted of the two bantering back and forth, 'sob stories' passed around like old folk's tales. They bickered and still, their argument over the dog toy was left unsettled, and Yuuri had to admit, it was kind of fun.

Time had whizzed past, and soon enough it was already 4:37pm. The other man spoke up suddenly, sat opposite Yuuri on the cold, hard ground of the elevator. His skin was painted in the gold of the old light that flickered above them, his blue eyes sparkling impressively. Yuuri wanted to look away, yet simultaneously couldn't find it in him to.

"I just realised that I don't know your name. And you don't know mine! Chances are, we'll be spending all night together," he wiggled his eyebrows. Yuuri choked in response, the other male continuing, "so let me introduce myself! Viktor Nikiforov!" He held out his arm out, humbly awaiting.

Yuuri clasped it gently, mumbling a near silent, "Yuuri Katsuki."

Viktor reacted with an all too cheery, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Yuuri!"

They held hands for almost a second too long, until Yuuri forced himself to pull away.

The two men once again decided to engage in such chatter, bordering small talk. They joked and teased, each finding out more and more about the other.

Yuuri now knew that Viktor Nikiforov was four years older than he was, a good twenty-six, and had a lovely little poodle he called Makkachin, or Makka for short. (He guessed that she was the reason for Viktor's desperate need for the dog toy.) He was Russian, and moved to the states just a few weeks before his nineteenth birthday. His favourite food was Borscht, a beef stew mixed with all sorts of vegetables, and that he almost burnt his kitchen down once upon a time trying to make it. And, to Yuuri's surprise, Viktor was a choreographer for all sorts of dances, his specialty being ballet and contemporary.

In response to this sudden spout of information, Yuuri had offered his own age and his dog's name and breed. He also told Viktor that his parents were from Japan, but moved to Detroit to start a hot springs. He explained too, that his favourite food was Katsudon, a pork cutlet rice bowl, and that his mother made the best of them.

Yuuri even mentioned his own career in dancing, to which Viktor had reacted to with an animated widening of his eyes and a contemplative 'really?'.

He also swears that Viktor had checked him out soon afterwards, but maybe that was just his mind playing tricks on him.

Soon enough, boredom got the best of the two, having spent the last three hours doing nothing but lounge around. Their phones were now completely out of battery (no, Yuuri didn't spend the last two percent playing Candy Crush-); they were hungry and unentertained, and it didn't take long for Viktor to begin whining.

Immediately, he shot up, forcing Yuuri into a frightened jolt.

"Sorry, sorry - I was just thinking, since I'm bored and you're bored, we should play Truth or Dare!"

Yuuri stared, "Really? Your first thought was child's play?"

"Aw, please! Yuuri, don't be like that! I'm literally dying of boredom-"

"Stop being so dramatic, Viktor."

Viktor ignored him, "-and you know what! We could settle this," he gestured rapidly to the dog toy, where it lay in between them, holy and seemingly unattainable.

Yuuri had never been more stupid to have asked, "What do you mean?"

"Well, we play Truth or Dare, and whoever forfeits first means that the other gets the toy! And bragging rights!"

He crawled over to Yuuri, too close for comfort, and drawled, "Pretty please?"

Yuuri, feeling scandalised and suddenly like a hormonal prepubescent teen, pressed himself up against the wall, looked away and squeaked a feeble, "Okay, fine!"

He felt regret seep into his soul for the umpteenth time that day.

---

He sighed.

Yuuri Katsuki was a good person.

He was a good person and he knew so much.

And so he wondered again, quite bitterly, why and how the planets had aligned in such a way to quite literally fuck him over in this elevator, where the most handsome man he'd ever seen was now lying in front of him, naked and quite the hot mess - a result of playing Truth or Dare.

Viktor, being the proud little shit he was, had chosen nothing but Dare - whether to egg Yuuri on or likewise.

Yuuri had wasted the pink nail polish he'd just bought for his sister Mari in response: his first dare being a cheap jab at the man's dignity. Though, it did little to do so, as Viktor painted his nails happily, albeit messily, and wore his paint job loud and proud.

After that, he had dared the man to write the Russian National Anthem on his leg with a black sharpie, one he’d conveniently carried around in his coat’s breast pocket. Viktor had done so entirely without complaint, going as far as to showcase his leg in a fucking split.

The dares that followed were mild, if not slightly concerning - Yuuri having dared Viktor to lick the floor, to pluck the hanging tinsel from the corners of the elevator and stuff it in his mouth, to try and do a handstand, to stand on one foot for two minutes and so on.

Watching Viktor, physical perfection on legs, trying to stuff a wad of sparking red tinsel down his throat was more amusing than Yuuri cared to say, and it came to show that the taller man was just as human as he was, despite his uncanny appearance to that of a greek god.

Although Yuri didn't even want to recall how Viktor had ended up wearing nothing but his socks, and even the nasty black eye now splotching across his fair skin.

He was more than happy to block that out from his memory.

Because of this, he’d stuck religiously to choosing Truth, not at all willing to risk whatever was left of his self-respect, in fear that Viktor would take no pity on him and get his revenge.

In fact, the worst question Viktor had asked him was,

"What's your biggest turn on?"

And Yuuri, being the sad, and easily embarrassed person that he was, had panicked and briskly declared, "Katsu...don?", his confidence soon blinking out like a candle flame halfway through saying so - it was evident in his statement all but becoming a gratifying question.

It was 6:29pm, and Yuuri's sure that help was on its way - for he could hear the bustling of what he assumed to be mall security outside the elevator. He wondered briefly, how worrying it would be for the two men to step out the elevator, one untouched, and the other looking as though they'd flushed themselves down the toilet. Repeatedly.

Yuuri kept his gaze away from Viktor and his...glory. He scowls, remembering how Viktor won the dog toy fair and square: Yuuri having refused to carry on playing after Viktor's little strip tease. Or whatever the hell it was.

He sighs another sad sigh, shaking his head and wishing for oblivion.

---

It was 7:01pm, when the elevator doors were finally opened. Yuuri and Viktor were helped up, blankets wrapped securely around the both of them - specifically Viktor, for obvious reasons.

Security were nothing short of polite but it was safe to say that when they managed to open the elevator doors, the last thing they were expecting was a 5'9" Russian man to come stumbling out, naked and, oh yes, naked.

They were ushered to a nearby bench on the fourth floor, surrounded by nearby onlookers who were whispering amongst themselves. The mall security had asked them politely to wait by, probably to offer some sort of compensation, Yuuri expected.

They sat in silence: hungry and tired - most definitely ready to go home, after a lovely evening spent stuck in the elevator for roughly five hours.

Viktor clutched at the dog toy and his blanket - his clothes and plastic shopping bag resting rumpled on his lap. Yuuri kept his head ducked down, listening pathetically to Mariah Carey and her silky singing echoing in the mall.

All I want for Christmas, Yuuri pondered spitefully: beyond mortified by the near nude man beside him and his demeaning loss when playing Truth or Dare, is to dig my own grave!

Suddenly, Viktor spoke up besides Yuuri.

"I was thinking-"

"No! Viktor, when you think, it ends badly!" Yuuri exclaimed, turning to point at Viktor's general being and the chew toy that he held loosely, "that was traumatic."

"It's nothing bad! Or at least I don't think it is..." Viktor helpfully supplied.

Wait, was as he, blushing?

"...What is it then?"

"Do you, uh...thinkthatVicchanwouldliketohaveaplaydatewithMakka?"

"Huh?"

Viktor coughed, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. His blanket fell from his shoulders and rested at his waist. Yuuri kept his gaze from trailing down, and could've sworn he was going to have a heart attack.

"I just...uhm, do you want to, maybe, uh...organise a play date for our dogs, or something?"

Yuuri straightened up immediately.

"You, you don't have to say yes! I'm sorry! I-I get that you're probably really busy, since Christmas is in like, two days, and you might have better things to do than go out with me - I mean, go out with my dog, wait, no! I mean-" Viktor rambled on, his face getting redder by the minute.

Yuuri, being the good, merciful, and apparently brave that person he is, disregarded all rational thought and leaned in to kiss Viktor on his cheek; a sweet press of his lips to soft skin that made the dark haired male tingle all over.

He pulled away, noting the relentless flush that started from Viktor's hairline, all the way down to his toned chest. And along with that, the older man's abrupt silence. He stared quizzically at Yuuri, reaching to touch the cheek that had been kissed.

"I'd love for our dogs to have a play date. But on one condition," Yuuri teased, a devilish grin making its way into his face, "you take me on that date, okay, Viktor Nikiforov? We can't afford to forget about class, now can we?"

He was bombarded with a humiliated shriek: a high-pitched squeal that left Viktor's lips, which stringed along like music to the younger man's ears, and a promise for a date - both for his dog and himself.

This was not how he'd planned his Wednesday evening, two days before Christmas, to go. No, not at all.

But he certainly wasn't complaining. Anymore, at least.

---

BONUS:

“I’ll see you later, Viktor! Um, merry Christmas! Oh, yeah and Monday, alright, Vicchan and I will see you then! Call me!” Yuuri all but whispered hastily, carrying his shopping and Viktor’s heart away with him to the other side of the parking lot.

Luckily, their cars were in the same district, and the Russian watched dreamily as Yuuri made his way to his car, and he himself got into his. He giggled bashfully, glad he forgot to go Christmas shopping last week.

What were the chances that he’d have ended up spending five hours with such an attractive and certainly interesting man, in the small confines of a horribly decorated elevator?

He smiled softly, making one last assessment of his things. His watch, shoes, shirt, pants - it was all here! Along with his shopping bag, Yuuri’s number and-

Wait.

Where...

Where was the dog toy?

Viktor didn’t enough time to fully wrap his head around the disappearance of the chew toy, before he heard maniacal laughter, and a dark blue Volkswagen blurring past. The car’s windows were rolled down, an insulting pastel pink lolling out slightly.

“Finders, keepers!”

A mortified gasp.

“Yuuri!”

Fin

---

Taglist:

@maximoffzinha @the-immortal-thylacine @holaboiiiiis

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voidselfshipp · 3 years

Text

The Sound Of Kindness

You know when you read a fanfic with great idea but the reader insert is always scared and its frustrated.

Well heres the opposite with me and death meeting based off that fic.

Tw:implications of child abuse

Ok to rb

Ozi has told her Many times,do not bother the dead.

Jerico was a Smart goddess, half human now, but that side of hers couldnt Keep still.

She Walked Into the old manor, the moonlight dripped from the dusty blinds.

Theres something here.

She could feel it,the Mark on her hand shined softly,reminescent of the morning sun.

She kept on waking, the energy was coming from the basement, she was a goddess, one swift move and she Will transform into a big white dragon.

She felt fear before,before she discovered her past life,but her powers gave her bravery,and knowing that the beating of her heart could impulse defeated batallions back to the fight.

Her heartbeat ran like wild horses marching into battle,the anticipation of a misadventure pumped her up, her hands,now claws, softly caressed the handrail as she went down the old stairs.

The door closes, and she jumps.

--Okay....,that was weird--she should have told her aunt at least.

Though ozi wouldnt be fine with it.

Something moved, swiftly.

--I know youre here--she said.

And he knew that.

Death, now in his reaper form hid in the shadows, the ammount of power that poured from that small human, scared Him a little.

He saw her face soften,and her ears perk up,those green eyes met his, and he felt a warm feeling in his empty ribcage.

--Hey there you are--she Walked softly to him, and he wasnt expecting the dragon like wings that came from her back,as she flied right infront of his face.

--....not.....scared??--its all he could muster in that form.

--Ive dealt with scarier things...--she then giggled.

She was tainted with the smell of death too,but not from hers, a fellow reaper...or the goddess of death.

--im jerico--she said.

Thats when his pupils caught the Mark on her right hand.

His long neck spiraled around her back,where he saw her exposed skin,and the bright sun Mark there shining brightly.

--terran.....?--he said again, turning back to meet her face.

-- hir-- she said in clear terran-- homyd geviizalaz-- he tilted his head--Yes,im terran,youre quite observant arent you

--what....are...you?--his raspy voice almost dry,Like its not been used in a while.

--Its a very long story....nor human,nor goddess,nor demigoddess,what I am,not even I know, and if you dont mind me asking, what are you?

--....horseman...

--nice to meet you--jerico said smiling--guess you wouldnt mind me asking your name

The horseman sighed, and looked away, theres no way shed be scared of his name-- d...dea....death

He looked at her, she kept her smile, and nodded, her wings flapped lazily,enough to have her float, she was getting tired.

Death Scooped her around his hands and held her close,she was strangely warm.

Warmer than any human.

Then he felt her heartbeat, it sounded like hymn with no words, but yet he could understand what the song said.

He might have said it was cheesy, but the sudden warmth made him stay quiet, the song seemed personal.

A song of love, loss, grief, and a hymn to pride, discovery, and Curiosity.

His face nuzzled against her chest, where he could hear the hymn better.

--....sing?

--sing what?

The nose of his bone poked her chest.

She seemed puzzled,then it dawned on her-- you can hear it too?

He nodded softly.

--why would you want to hear it?

--know......about...you...

She tilted her head,her hands softly placed themselves on his skull, and caressed it, he caved in and his knees Buckeld, kneeling on the ground slouched.

Whoever death is...or was...it seems like its been a while since he had felt this warmth, this closeness and this tenderness,and jerico came to the relaziation when he felt him grunt with a broken voice.

She cleared her throat,and opened her mouth.

--all I remember--she sang-- its the screams of justice, all I saw, was someone in need of help.

What I was....who I am, didnt seem to matter,as my heart, pumped with desire.

I extended my hand to the human, who had finally gotten justice for her husband.

Then a yelp, a cry of help, and thats when I felt.

The human just smiled--death seemed to calm down and wrap his wings around her--as I heed her...so did she to me...

And soon enough a human id be....--

Deaths face lifted up as she heard her gulp,and tears formed on the corner of her eyes--oh how wrong I was--her voice rised up--when I thought it was all about love, oh how wrong I was, to forget that pain could be inflicted upon Man.

How Greed and narcissim could ruin such thing,as the Bond of a mother and her offspring...

But now I am here,resting in peace, with more knowledge and love that I have ever got before...--at the end her voice cracked as tears rolled down her eyes.

He wiped her tears away with a Giant hand,and pressed her against his chest.

Jerico sniffled, and gripped his cloack.

--Sorry....

She shook her head--dont be...I just get emotional when I sing it

Death Rose her up back to meet his face.

--Lets get out of here okay?,my allergies are kicking in --She chuckled and so does he.

And in a quick dash they were on old library.

The reaper left his companion on one of the tall bookshelves, where she sat

The first morning Rays filtered through the Windows.

Death looked at them and sighed--its....almost time

--hm?

He pointed at the sunrays and then at himself, making a hand gesture of something shrinking-- I....normal again

--ah i see --She jumped off the bookshelves and landed on the floor with no harm done-- maybe we can get out of here, and get you something for that throat,would you like that?

The reaper chuckled and nodded.

Then a shriek ripped from his throat,as his wings enveloped him, and shrank Back to his size.

He was still taller than her, messy and dirty black locks fell astray on the Mask covering his face.

The pale skin,seemed rough to the touch, death dragged himself to her, and hugged her as tight as he could.

Jerico smiled--Morning to you too

He grunted a chuckle, and both Walked out of the old manor.

The streets were empty,and the morning sun made jeri look even more beautiful, her eyes reflected the light and made them seem like two emeralds,he felt his cheeks Run hot.

His hand softly ghosted over her Lower back.

She shivered and looked at him, the chuckled and pulled him closer to her.

--If you need affection dont be afraid to ask, I have much to give--her heart not only poured power,but kindness too.

They finally arrived at jericos house,or more so her aunts.

He felt that energy again,the aura of someone as powerfull, that could only belong to someone such as the goddess of death herself.

She gave him some tea with honey,always keeping a hand on his shoulder.

He then collapsed on the sofá, his whole body ached from the transformation.

She layed ontop of him, the blinds were barely letting the sun come in.

Death cupped her cheeks, and she sleepily smiled to him ,he took off his mask and his chapped lips pressed against hers--thank...you

She kissed him again and he felt her smile against his lips--Dont mention it

#death #f/o tag #self insert #self ship #my f/os #self shipping #f/o x s/i #romantic f/o #f/o #f/o community #f/o fic #tw:child abuse #tw//child abuse

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thekracken · 5 years

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okay but

where is my fic with the nate and eliot background stories? i mean they’re buddies in the pilot. reluctant (on nates end) buddies. on the kfmonkey blog they say nate “caught hardison, never caught parker. technically worked parallel to eliot several times, chased him a few” and then in the pilot we have the whole pool table scene?

“listen, i’m sorry about your kid” “you dont know anything about that” “everybody knows. a guy like you goes off the street, a lot of people notice” okay this tells us a few things. eliot knew about nates personal life before they meet up-- he had to have known to be comfortable enough to offer his condolences, unprompted and years later.

so wheres the fics where eliot and nate are NOT working together they’re just. holed up together. and theres a lot of grumbling and sassing and “i will arrest you” and “before or after i knock you unconscious” but then, they’ve settled down into companionable silence. it’s late, they’re both waiting for the dead of night to make their move and nates watch beeps, three soft little beeps and eliot glances at his own watch to check the time before he looks over at nate. “what was that” and nates reply is quick, “nothing.” eliot stays silent and nate continues after a pause, “it’s my sons birthday” “you have a son?” eliot asks, and nate hears the unspoken, why arent you home? “he’s three. four now,” nate says into the dark “there’ll be plenty of birthdays for me to be at when he’ll actually remember them”

or the time when nate’s on eliot’s tail and he’s so close to catching him red-handed, but when nate bursts into the hotel room where, according to all his sources, eliot should’ve been in, all his finds is a neatly made bed and a toy fire engine, resting on the sheets with a post-it note that says ‘for your boy’ on it. eliot never finds out if nate took it home or left it there, but that doesnt stop him the next time he’s walking past a toy store and sees a black and white soccer ball sitting in the window. he thinks of japan 2002, and he thinks of losing nate in a crowd of ecstatic brazil fans.. he grins to his reflection in the glass and buys it, leaving it behind for nate’s son with a cheeky message.

and what about when nate loses his son. and the art criminal underground sits up and takes notice. eliot, at first, assumes it was an accident. just. a horrible accident. but then details start to emerge. the ford boy was sick, they say. some say it was cancer, some say it was a birth defect. a bad lung, a bad heart. some hear he had meningitis as a baby and it all spiraled from there. but theres one thing he learns, his death wasnt an accident and it was preventable, if only someone could afford the bill. eliot wishes he’d known. wishes nate had told him his boy was sick. eliot has all this fucking money... he wouldve given it away. donated it anonymously, wouldve bought the kid another day if hed known. almost like they were paying respects, no one moved IYS merchandise until after the funeral. payments were halted, plans were paused, giving nate imagined reprieve, because despite the man, a lot of criminals were fond of him. but, debts need paid and work began as usual once the boy was in the ground. but nate didnt come back. he didnt come back and didnt come back. and the bad criminals took notice. then the Bad(tm) criminals took notice. and eliot has enough debts to cover, he has enough issues of his own to deal with. but he overhears a plan and maybe his stomach clenches in angerfeardisgust because the man just lost his son, lost his wife.... eliot thinks of all the times nate let him go. thinks of all the times they worked side by side and raced to get intel or merchandise. thinks of the one time they stumbled upon each other and eliot was bleeding sluggishly from a wound he couldnt reach to suture and nate sewed him up before leaving in the night.

eliot has enough on his plate. and it will be another two years before he even sees nathan ford again, let alone decides to work with him, but when he’s mercilessly beating the goons looking for nates address he makes his point perfectly clear. anyone looking for nate ford will be answering to him

#hi hello give me attention #lfic #nate & eliot #/////#////#///#//#/#leverage #nate ford #eliot spencer #*ficish

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sariasprincy-writes · 5 years

Text

Hollow Point 19

One // Two // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen // Fifteen // Sixteen // Seventeen // Eighteen // Nineteen (here)

Chapter Nineteen The blank edges of a map

Itachi wasn’t there when Sakura arrived. He hadn’t replied to her text two days ago, but she wasn’t too concerned. He had never disappointed her before.

She waited for him just inside the mouth of the alley, between the club and an old restaurant that had closed down some time ago. She was but a shadow, dressed in all black from her boots to her jeans and leather jacket as she leaned against the wall that separated her from the club. The music reverberated against her spine.

She didn’t have to wait long. Less than ten minutes later, Sakura heard the faint tap of footsteps down the opposite end of the alley. “You look nice,” Itachi said. “Is it my birthday?”

Sakura bit back her smirk as she looked up at him. He was dressed well in a pair of dark jeans and a dark blue button up shirt. He had rolled the sleeves up to his forearms. A mix of formal and casual wear. Good. She needed him to look his best tonight.

Pushing off the wall, Sakura stepped towards him, giving him a careful onceover. She straightened his collar a little and brushed his bangs out of his face before she smiled in return. “Feels like it’s my birthday.”

Itachi’s smile briefly widened before he peered out into the street where party-goers were all funneling towards the small entrance of the large building. “What are we doing here?”

“I need to have a talk with an old friend,” she told him, following his gaze. “You might know her. Here, she’s known as Sekhmet.”

“The Goddess of Power.”

Sakura nodded, somewhat surprised he recognized the name. “If there’s any movement of anything in or out of Egypt, she knows.”

“And you want to know more about that port in New York,” Itachi concluded. When she nodded, his brow furrowed. “So why do you need me here?”

“I can’t go in alone,” she told him. When Itachi shot her a questioning look, she sighed, “I…may have killed her brother.”

In an instant, all playfulness dropped from his expression. He shot her an incredulous look, as if still trying to figure out if she was completely or only mostly out of her mind. Not that she could entirely blame him. This was almost the dumbest thing she had ever done.

“It’s complicated,” Sakura said when Itachi continued looking at her like he was waiting for an explanation.

He huffed a humorless laugh through his nose. “And what makes you think you can walk in there without her killing you?”

Looking away from the crowd, she turned to face him fully. “You.”

Itachi’s brows furrowed. “Me?” he repeated.

She nodded, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Temari only mostly hates me so I’ll at least be able to get one, maybe two words in before she goes for her gun. And she loves pretty boys.”

“So, I’m here to flirt with her,” he said, his voice flat.

“Don’t worry. She won’t do anything to you. Maybe.” When Itachi continued to just stare, she brushed a piece of invisible lint off his shirt with a small smile. “Just play along. You’re CIA. I figured you would be good as this by now.”

Itachi looked like he had more to say but she didn’t give him the chance as she finally moved forward to blend into the crowd. She didn’t have to look back to know he was following, feeling his hand wrap around the inside of her elbow so they didn’t get separated.

At the door, Sakura smiled at the bouncers and whispered the right words to get in. They eyed her skeptically but didn’t question her. Merely unhooked the red rope to let her and Itachi pass.

Inside, the club was pounding. Literally. Heavy beats rattled her bones and made the floor quake beneath her feet. Bright, flashing lights flickered overhead, enticing those standing on the sidelines to join the party.

Normally, Sakura would have loved to get lost in the deep bass and the semi-darkness where no one knew her name. Now, it only made it harder to concentrate, harder to think.

With Itachi still on her arm, Sakura weaved through the throng of girls in short dresses. Many clung to guys with wandering eyes who didn’t even know their names. She stopped just outside the main dancefloor to gaze purposefully about the club.

Beside her, Itachi’s hand tightened on her arm. She glanced at him and followed his gaze to a group of men that were eyeing her. She ignored them.

“Don’t worry about them,” she told him. “These are just civilians.” Then she nodded towards a door upstairs in a tucked away corner of the room. “Up there is who we have to worry about.”

Over the pounding music, Itachi didn’t bother trying to reply. He merely followed her up the narrow, nearly invisible stairs in the back and down the hall where four large bouncers were guarding the door. They all wore black t-shirts, their biceps nearly bursting the stitching in the arms and their tattoos out on display for all to see.

The closest one barely took one look at her before turning to Itachi. “You and your lady friend are going the wrong way. Party is downstairs.”

Unfazed, Itachi jerked his chin towards the mass of bodies swaying on the dancefloor. “That’s not the type of party we’re looking for. Our tastes are for something a little more private. Perhaps Sekhmet has enough room for two more. Two more with money to spare.”

The man’s eyes narrowed at that name. He eyed the pair of them again and seemed to think before he looked back at his companions and nodded once. His silent permission that they were granted access.

Sakura briefly glanced at Itachi as they slipped through the door. He returned her stare with a faint smirk. He was better at this than she thought.

The guard closed the door behind them as they slipped into a hall, muting the loud music below. She and Itachi followed it until they reached a shimmering, silk curtain. Beyond it led to a large room. There was a dozen or so people in the room, the clinking of their crystal glasses and murmured conversation floating up into the high ceiling. More silk hung from above in shades of the richest purples and deepest reds. The rest of the space was accentuated in sparkling golds, the colors all blending together to give a warmth to the otherwise colorless room.

Towards the middle of the room, four pillars of marble stamped a wide square onto the white tiles. Just inside that, the floor sunk down where a chaise lounge sofa sat. That was where Temari lounged.

She sat like a queen of the ages with her blonde hair tied back, exposing her long neck and accentuating the gold, stringed head piece along her forehead and atop the crown of her head. Her eyeliner was winged and sharp, drawing attention to her almond-shaped eyes. She was dressed in long flowing, harem pants and a shirt of the smoothest silk, her feet bare and decorated with intricate henna.

On either side of her, Temari kept company with a pair of young boys. Likely barely twenty. Not that that was surprising. Sakura remembered the blonde always went for the younger ones.

Temari looked up when Itachi entered. She eyed him curiously, giving him a long onceover as a playful smile formed on her lips. It fell the instant she spotted Sakura a pace behind him.

Like a candle dying in the wind, all warmth drained from Temari’s features. She didn’t spare another word to the boys beside her as she rose from her throne of plush pillows. Her face was hard as she approached, her expression carved from stone. “You have some nerve showing up here.”

Sakura and Itachi stopped a pace from where the floor dropped down. “Temari, I-“

That was all Sakura got out before Temari’s fist connected with her face. The crack of her knuckles echoed throughout the room. Sakura grimaced but made no move to defend herself or retaliate. She had expected worse. Beside her, Itachi tensed but remained still as the rest of the room fell silent.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you where you stand,” Temari demanded.

Trying to hide how much her jaw ached, Sakura looked up at the blonde. It didn’t escape her notice the guards in the corners of the room had reached into the inside pockets of their tailored suits. Hands likely around concealed weapons.

“You and I both know I did everyone a favor by killing Gaara,” Sakura said unapologetically. “He was a terrorist. In every sense of the word.”

When Temari’s eyes narrowed, Sakura took a step forward before she could cock her fist again, closing the space between them until she could whisper just loud enough for Temari to hear. “Don’t forget that I was the one who stopped him from strangling you that night.”

The blonde didn’t immediately move, the both of them remembering that cold, winter night. Her wheezing, hollow gasps while Sakura pleaded with Gaara to release his only sister.

This time when Sakura met Temari’s gaze, the anger and hate was replaced with something painful, something she was unable to describe. “He was my brother,” Temari murmured so quietly Sakura nearly missed the hurt in her voice.

Sakura swallowed thickly, trying to push down the sudden knot of sympathy that had balled in her chest. “I know.”

The next time Temari blinked her vulnerability was gone and in its place was her usual, cool frostiness. “So, what are you doing here? It’s not like you to apologize for anything so you must want something from me.”

With the thick tension broken, the soft conversation on the outskirts of the room resumed. Sakura tried to hide her smile at Temari’s perception, tried to hide how much her jaw ached. If there was one thing she learned from Gaara, it was how to throw a punch.

“We need some information,” Itachi stepped forward, speaking for the first time.

Temari pulled her gaze from Sakura to study him. She said nothing for a long moment before she extended her hand to him. And just as Sakura had hoped, Itachi accepted it.

“Information on what exactly?” Temari asked.

She led him towards the lounge chair she had been resting on when they arrived, wordlessly waving the pair of boys away. They made themselves scarce without a word. With them gone, Temari made herself comfortable upon the cushions, ensuring Itachi seated himself close by.

“Shipments out of Cairo and into the States,” Itachi said, turning to face Temari completely. “Specifically, into New York City.”

It didn’t escape Sakura’s notice Temari had purposely left no room for her to join. She resisted the urge to sigh at her antics as she stopped beside them. Still standing.

Temari arched her brow at Itachi. “Shipments of what?”

“Guns, drugs, the usual,” he listed.

When the blonde hummed thoughtfully, Sakura added, “It looks like Akatsuki, but a reliable source doesn’t think so.”

Temari peered up at her, the gold in her hair sparkling. “I’ve heard of the port. A shipment left here a few weeks ago to head into New York. I had assumed it was you so I didn’t look at it too hard,” she said. Then her gaze returned to Itachi. “If you want more information, I can look into it and let you know what I find.”

Itachi smiled. “We would appreciate it.”

Temari returned his smile for one of her own before it fell with a glance at Sakura. “You know I require payment first.”

“If you can find out who is using the port in New York, I’ll pay you one hundred million pounds,” Sakura told her.

The blonde arched her brow in surprise at the high price, the question obvious on the tip of her tongue. In never came. Instead, she pretended to think. Her gaze studying Sakura before turning back to Itachi. The start of a cunning smile on her lips. “One hundred million pounds. And I get to keep pretty boy.”

Itachi turned to look at Sakura at that. She couldn’t help but smile as she read the look in his eyes. “Pretty boy is mine,” she said, redirecting her attention to Temari. “Take the money or leave it.”

The older woman eyed Itachi for a moment longer before she sighed. “Fine,” she waved him away. “Wire the money to me by tomorrow or there’s no deal.”

With their business concluded, Sakura left with Itachi in tow, much to the pout of Temari. They headed back out the way they came, weaving their way through the party-goers still dancing and drinking downstairs.

The fresh air outside was a welcomed relief from the sticky heat of the crowded club. Although heavy. Like rain was threatening to fall.

Sakura inhaled deeply, wincing when her jaw ached. She rubbed the sore spot briefly, her fingers pressing along the skin just enough to determine that she would in fact have a bruise. At least Temari had played nice. Mostly.

Itachi was already watching her when Sakura looked at him. She dropped her hand, realizing she was still massaging her abused face.

“I’m hungry,” Itachi said before she could speak. “We should get something to eat.”

And that was how Sakura found herself at some American diner on the corner. It was a few streets back from the more touristy areas and a little tucked away. At this hour, they were the only customers. The older crowd already retired to bed and the younger ones still drinking in the clubs.

They ordered nachos before the waitress collected their menus and disappeared into the back. Even alone, they didn’t speak. Itachi watched Sakura over his coffee mug. Her phone sat on the table between them. Face up but silent. Only the screen lighting up every so often to indicate she had a new message.

Each time, Itachi glanced at her. She didn't touch it. Instead her gaze lingered elsewhere. The streamers hanging from the ceiling of the restaurant as they spun slowly, the steam rising from his coffee mug, the fall of the rain outside as it dripped down the window. She stared at all these things with rapt attention. As if she saw some deeper meaning in the little things.

Itachi just watched her, her earlier words playing over in his head. ‘Pretty boy is mine.’ He knew she had meant it as a power play against Temari, but that single statement had stirred something deep in his chest.

It stirred again now as he observed her. Eyeing the way she ran the back of her fingers against her jaw. It had to ache from the force behind Temari’s blow, but Sakura didn’t show any signs of discomfort. She had acted like it hadn’t even hurt at the time.

It was some minutes before Sakura noticed his stare. She cocked her brow. The same look she always gave when she caught him staring.

“You haven't spoken since we left Temari's,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

She said nothing for a minute more as a frown settled over her features. She sank back against the back of the booth heavily. “Some dots are beginning to connect that worry me,” Sakura said quietly.

Itachi’s brow furrowed. “With Akatsuki?”

She nodded, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. “Our meeting with Kisame is making me think Akatsuki is growing faster than we think.”

“Because he didn’t know about the port in New York?” he asked. When she said nothing, Itachi frowned. “Are you certain that shipment was even Akatsuki’s and not another group? There’s more illegal product moving in and out of America than there has been in years. It’s possible someone else-”

“I saw the port myself,” Sakura interrupted, her tone not unkind but unyielding. “It’s Akatsuki. And the fact Kisame doesn’t know might mean he’s been compromised or Pein has another arms supplier.”

Itachi was quiet for a long moment as he considered her words, a deep frown etched into the corners of his mouth. It was a minute before he spoke again, “Let’s wait to see what Temari says before we jump to any conclusions.”

Over the table, Sakura met Itachi’s gaze. He seemed to be pleading with her, as if trying to convince her to give Kisame the benefit of the doubt. She supposed she didn’t have any proof of her claims yet. Only a churning in her stomach that made her uneasy.

Eventually she nodded. A small smile caressed the corner of Itachi’s mouth before it disappeared behind his coffee mug. Sakura studied him, finding that she liked watching him. Noticing the little things. Like the way his shoulders filled his shirt, how he held his coffee mug from the side and not the handle. How his expression changed minutely when he looked up again and caught her stare.

“What is it?” he asked.

She didn’t understand his question until she realized her smile had dwindled into a frown. “There’s something else,” she began slowly. “Do you remember the payments Shisui found? The ones Hashirama was providing Madara.”

“You found out what the payments are for.”

Sakura inclined her head. “Hashirama is paying Madara to watch me.”

Itachi stilled, his gaze briefly flickering out the window as if he expected to find some shadow staring back at them across the street. “You don’t think he knows about us?”

“No. If he did, he would have taken me out by now,” she told him, unfazed by the thought. “I think Hashirama is expecting me to turn against him though.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Probably because I came to work for him as a favor from my adopted mother. And she loathes him.”

A look of confusion passed Itachi’s face as Sakura rested her chin on her palm. She could still recall the arguments they used to get into. At least she assumed they were. She could only hear Tsunade’s side of the conversation, but the hushed, angry whispers and abrupt ends led her to believe that things between her mother and Hashirama had slowly deteriorated over time.

“She never told me much about their relationship,” Sakura continued. “But I think Hashirama started shorting her on payments. I think that’s why Tsunade finally cut ties with him and left me in charge so she could move on.”

“So that’s where you got the name Tsunade from,” Itachi murmured. When Sakura shot him a puzzled look, he explained, “There’s not a lot known about you, even with Mossad and the CIA after you. We know that you were born in the States and raised in Israel, but other than that your file is pretty much full of guessed information. For a while, many of us believed you were multiple people. I guess we were half-right in that regard.”

Sakura drank from her water glass as she considered Itachi. Caught with the sudden urge to tell him more but not wanting to give too much away. She thought about her next words carefully. “I was born in the States, but I was moved to Russia before I turned one,” she told him. “I stayed there until I was six when Hashirama found me and brought me to his niece, Tsunade.”

“Your adopted mother,” Itachi said, connecting the dots. “So, she took you and raised you.”

“More like trained me,” Sakura corrected. “She was less nurturing and more interested in teaching me her trade. How to conceal a weapon, how to steal. How to lie.”

Itachi frowned, like he was pitying her. She half expected him to apologize for her poor childhood. To her relief, he didn’t, “You have the widest range of connections of any criminal I’ve ever tracked. You must have moved around a lot.”

Warmth flushed through Sakura at his compliment. She tried to push it away as she drank from her water glass. Instead recalling all the homes, all the cities they had jumped around. Never staying in one place for too long. Just long enough to establish contacts or create connections before moving on.

Itachi sipped his coffee as he considered what she had just told him. When he lowered it, he eyed her again. “Is Sakura even your real name?”

Sakura didn’t immediately reply. Not because she didn’t want to tell him, but because she didn’t know for certain herself. She had never known her birth name – or if she had even been given one. She knew they had called her something else in that cold orphanage, but that name had long since faded from her memory.

In the end, Sakura merely shrugged. “It’s the one I like.”

Their food arrived after that. They talked about insignificant things as they picked through the large pile of nachos for the perfect chip. She couldn’t help her smile when Itachi peeled off his jalapenos and nearly horded the little cups of sour cream and guacamole their waitress had provided. Sakura let him, not too picky with what she ate.

By the time they finished, the little diner was closing for the night. The waitress locked the door behind them and turned the outside light off, casting them into semi-darkness. She and Itachi paused under the front awning, observing the rain that fell just beyond.

It was a few blocks to her hotel. Sakura would undoubtedly be soaked by the time she got there. Perhaps she should have checked the weather before she left, but Temari had been her only thought when she had slipped out earlier that evening.

When Sakura turned back to Itachi, she saw he was already watching her. That same look in his eyes she recognized but still couldn’t quite place. She frowned. “Why do you look at me like that?”

He was quiet a moment. Then said, “Because I like the way you look at the world.”

“As a tool to be used?” she asked sarcastically, trying to distract from the way her heart was suddenly thumping in her chest.

Itachi merely shook his head, the start of a smile tugged on the corner of his lips. “As something to be looked at.”

Sakura held his gaze for a moment before she looked away, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment. She fidgeted with her jacket, pulling her collar tighter around her neck and drawing the zipper higher. When her face cooled, she looked back at Itachi only to find he was still smiling.

She frowned in defense. “Are you flirting with me, Agent Uchiha?”

“Would you be so opposed to it?” he asked in return.

For some reason that made her pause. For she could recall saying the very same thing to him those months ago. The only difference now was she got the feeling he wasn’t completely teasing.

She swallowed, suddenly unsure how to respond.

Itachi saved her from her own embarrassment by taking a single step back, a knowing look entering his gaze. “I’ll be in touch. Have a good night, Sakura,” he murmured, her name rolling off his tongue like it had a million times before.

Then he stepped out into the rain and walked away.

Sakura watched him without moving, feeling hot and cold all over. It wasn’t until he was disappeared around the corner that a glare fell over her features.

Damn, Uchiha. He certainly was better at this game than she thought.

to be continued…

#itasaku #itachi #sakura #hollow point #chapter 19 #crime au #arms dealer au #edited dec 3 2018

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