#Trunks and Rin have never tried drugs before and the first time they do no one sees them for like a day

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Can I please get a fic of the Bonten get caught cheating on the reader and their reacting to the reader leaving them?

You Should Go: Sanzu Haruchiyo/ Ran Haitani/ Rindou Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: 1k

tw: angst? angst.

masterlist

song recommendation:

Sanzu Haruchiyo

"Loyal," you shout, throwing the expensive vase at Sanzu. He ducks, his pink hair flying and blue eyes full of fear, but you don't care about how he feels. You just want him to hurt like you're hurting. "You said you'd be loyal!" The vase shatters on the wall opposite his head, spraying chunks of porcelain everywhere.

"Babe, stop!" Sanzu pleads, tears welling up in his eyes. "It was a mistake. I'm sorry! A one-time thing; it'll never happen again."

"You're right," you exhale, dropping your shoulders as you stoop down to grab the bag in your hand. "It won't happen again." Sanzu seems to calm down, his shoulders also slumping as his hands drop to his sides.

"I'll do whatever you want me to do. Just don't leave me. Not right now."

"Fuck you, Sanzu," you hiss, snatching the keys off of the counter behind you. "I want a divorce."

"Wait!" You storm out of the mansion, bag in hand as you march across the gravel to your car. "Y/n, don't do this!"

You don't even bother with replying, instead choosing to swing the car door open and throw your things in before sliding in. Sanzu briefly chases after you in the car, slamming his hand on the trunk before you peel off, driving down the driveway and out of his life.

Ran Haitani

"My mother warned me about men like you," you gripe, snatching clothes off the hangers and tossing them into your oversized suitcase. "I can't stay here with your fucking lies."

Ran tries to stop your hands from their motions, gripping your wrists feverishly.

"Stop this madness," Ran hisses, but you snatch your hands back, returning to your removal of clothing.

"Shut the fuck up, cheater."

Ran flinches at this comment but steps back, his eyes watching in slow-motion as you grab things that you owned and not a single one of his gifts to take with you.

"No, no, no, no," Ran chants, jogging down the stairs as your bag thumps on the marble. "No." His last 'no' is punctuated by him standing in front of you, eyes full of something you'd never seen before. Fear.

"Move, Haitani." Your push against his frame isn't enough, and you realize that you're sorely outmatched when his hands grab your suitcase, prying it from your fingers without harming you at all. "Move!" You shove him again, tears coming to your eyes as you push, push, push... but he doesn't budge an inch.

"No, I can't let you go." You fight him with all you have, trying your best to disarm him so you can leave and gather your thoughts, but he's not letting you. "Just... just... just stop!"

You collapse in a heap of tears and sorrow and shame at his feet, pressing a hand to your face.

"Fuck, I shouldn't be crying like this," you moan, wiping your eyes.

Ran doesn't reply, covering you with his large frame and holding you in his warmth, stroking your back as you sob pitifully in his arms.

"I'm tired of your whores calling me and reminding me I'm the worthless wife," you hiccup, pushing him away. "It's me or them, Ran. I'm done with this shit."

"It's always going to be you," he whispers, cupping your face tenderly. "I'll always choose you."

But somehow, his words never seem quite real - like a fairy tale with a happy ending.

Rindou Haitani

You had to drug him to escape. That was the only way out.

Rindou lays in the bed, his evening tea mixed with dissolvable Benadryl tablets, which we masked by the taste of cinnamon and black pepper spices.

You don't even bother leaving a note.

You slide the rings he'd given you as a vow of his commitment onto the pillow beside him and slipped out into the night, crashing at a hotel with no phone, no credit card, no way of being traced.

Rindou knew your list of "non-negotiables" contained "cheating" and he'd crossed that boundary one too many times. If his brother hadn't been in on it every single time, you'd work it out with Rin somehow. But Ran obviously wanted you out of the picture.

So you'd do just that.

The first sign that Rindou knows you've left him is the sudden appearance of men who lurked in the shadows with him.

Sanzu.

Kokonoi.

Takeomi.

They all appeared in places that you'd think would be obscure enough to inhabit. But as you caught sight of Sanzu in the hotel mirror, ducking your head and pulling the fur hood up to mask your face, you knew it was time to leave.

If the Loyal Mad Dog was on your trail, you'd have a lot more problems than just an angry ex-husband.

The second sign came after you sent the divorce papers through your lawyer.

You'd been in your new home, the mountain air chilling your bones and your heart when a black van rolled into the complex, thousands of miles away from its original departure point.

You even recognized the license plate.

The house went up for sale that evening. The divorce papers were never signed.

The final sign Rindou was desperately searching for you came when you carried the trash out to the garbage bin, eyes glued firmly to the road and your freshly-dyed hair waving in the wind.

And his car pulled up, lights blinding you as the doors opened and a couple of hands dragged you inside, tossing you in the back. You bump your head on the side door, rendering you still and a little stunned as Rindou climbs in the front seat, driving in silence.

"You think you can just divorce me?" Purple eyes catch your gaze as you rub the back of your head, hissing in pain. "You just run away and then expect to not be found? Tch." You groan, laying in the seat and trying to think of an escape, which is virtually impossible now. "I thought you knew me better than that, y/n. You forgot who you married, I guess."

#rindou haitani x reader #ran haitani x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #sanzu haruchiyo #ran haitani #rindou haitani

[ziracona]

I once read a theory about white glowing eyes being a sign of a killer being brainwashed/mind controlled, which is why Wraith, Spirit and Deathlinger hunt after survivors even though they have little to no reason to do so. If it's okay, could you please write how they would react if the mind control went off one day and they realised what they were doing the whole time?

Oh yeah! I’ve always considered the Entity-touched eyes to mean the killer has their visual perception of the world intentionally altered, and since Caleb canonically is made to hallucinate and has the same effect on him, considered that more or less confirmed by his chapter. I haven’t heard brainwashed/mind controlled before, but I can give that a go. If I’m remembering correctly, Hillbilly has that as well.

 Rin would be horrified. The Entity literally turned her into the thing she hated—into something like her father, who gives in to rage and mutilates and kills innocent people. She’s done the same thing to girls her own age her father did to her, and with no ability to stop it. Realizing she’s been used to do that? It would destroy her. She would be overcome with sorrow and confusion, and terrified, because she has no idea how to stop it, or if it’ll just happen again. And she would be so sorry, but what would you even say to someone you’d done that to? It all suddenly feels so impossible and scary and lost beyond repair. She’s a corpse and a killer, and she’ll never be free, and she’s beyond heartbroken.

Max would be confused. For so long, he’s been fighting off threats and he’s been hooking them because he wants to, right? Because it’s how he warns other people not to come to his home. But suddenly, the control on him is just gone, and it doesn’t make sense anymore. Where is he? How did this happen? What took him, and what is wrong with him to make him think this was normal? The farm is all wrong, and there are barriers he can’t get through, and it hasn’t been new threats—it’s been the same people! Over and over and over again, and he knows he killed them, but they’re back? And why? Why did he hook them? What was the thing in the sky? How did it make him do this? What else has it made him do? What can it make him do? What will it? Is this clarity just for a moment? Is he going to lose it again? And he’s scared then. He’s suddenly bricked up behind the wall, and the thing keeping him chained up is using him for sport he doesn’t want to be a part of, and mocking him, and hurting him, and he can’t beat it. Can’t get free. Can’t save himself. He’s back were he was as a kid, and the PTSD all comes back and hits him like a truck, and he’s terrified, and frenzied, just bashing himself against the barrier to his little cell of a realm, trying to get free, trying to save himself, and he sees it coming to claim him again, and there’s nowhere to run, and he just has to watch it get him.

Caleb is furious. He’s been used, again, and again, and again, his whole life. Every employer of any kind he ever trusted, stabbed him in the back! And it’s happened again. Somehow worse than ever before. This bastard demon monster dragged him from his world, and got in his head, and made him think he was getting revenge. It made him see all these total strangers as men he hated, so he’d be motivated to hurt them for it. It used his rage and his personal quest for vengeance like a dangled carrot, and moved him like a puppet, and he’s furious. He doesn’t really give a damn about the strangers, but he’s mad he was manipulated into giving them the punishment he wanted to give to Bayshore. The Entity was just…going to let him think he was getting that vengeance, forever. Didn’t even give him a real offer, or force him, or break him. It just drugged him. So that he’d do what it wanted, like so many things he’s served before. And he. Is. Angry. He doesn’t know if he’ll be controlled again. He doesn’t know if there’s a way to break it. But he writes what’s going on down in two letters. Leaves one in his jacket for himself to find, in case there is some way for him to break this control and get some god damn revenge if it takes him again, and the other, he takes, ties to a bottle of alcohol, and throws into the Survivors’ campfire area. Hoping one will see it. Because he doesn’t really give a damn about them, and they sure as hell don’t give one about him, but the enemy of your enemy is your friend, and he knows, no matter how much they hate him? They hate the Entity more. And if they can find a way to break its control, he’ll try to help them find a way to make it pay, like he has every boss who betrayed him before it, and it’s a longshot, but it’s all he’s got.

Philip is shattered. He’s spent his whole life just trying to live. Just wanting to be decent. To take no harm, to do no harm. To have just some kind of simple life, where he doesn’t have to fight to be in a small house that’s warm in the winter and cool in the hot season, and where he isn’t afraid he’ll starve, or be murdered on a street corner, and maybe can sometimes afford to go see a movie or buy a new jacket in a store every now and again. And those ambitions were still far too much. Life has seen him fit to suffer since the day he turned six. He lived through the horrors of genocide in his home as a boy, lost people, watched so many die, watched so much senseless and cruel and awful and unfathomable brutality. And he hated it. He wanted, more than anything, to be able to punish the people who burned others alive for no reason at all but a little bit of hate or a little bit of money. He wanted the people who didn’t survive the genocide to have the justice they deserved. But he had no power to do it.

He went to America, following promises of a safer and better life, and he survived, and that was nothing, but nothing was enough. He sometimes bought beers with the little extra money, and he made rent, and the food wasn’t great, but he was not afraid to starve. His job was simple, and he liked it, because he got to repair things. Some cars he crushed, but others he got to fix, and send back out, and as inconsequential as it was, the world was some fraction of a percentage better at night after work he’d done, and that felt good to him. And then he saw blood leaking out of a trunk, and rescued an injured young man from being crushed, only to watch his boss slit the man’s throat and take the life he’d just saved. He was only even able to buy the man an extra ten or so seconds of life. And then found out he’d been used to kill hundreds he hadn’t known existed, hidden in the trunks of cars, and his boss was doing it, like men always had. Killing others senselessly and brutally and mercilessly, for a little bit of hate, or a little bit of money. And so he killed his boss, to avenge the people he’d used his hands to kill. And fled, because no matter if the police or the mob found him first, it was going to be death the moment anyone did. And then the Entity took him. And it’s been years. Years of this quiet, peaceful, silent haze. Buried under so much fog. Hunting shadows, fleeting images of faces he doesn’t remember. What has he been doing? Has he really been aware of it at all? The worst part is he doesn’t know. And the control over him shuts off mid-trial, and suddenly he’s just Philip, just the Philip he’s always been, and he’s standing above a little girl, with her blood on his blade and her friend’s dead body beside her, and she’s cowering, waiting for him to kill her, and he knows he’s going to—he was going to. And he remembers all of. Every moment, like memories. But like memories he wasn’t there for. Like sleep-walking, and waking up, but gaining all the memories your eyes took in while you were asleep.

And he doesn’t understand it. He can’t. He never would have done this. But god, he did—he did. He sees himself doing it. He remembers it. And it wasn’t him, it wasn’t! He doesn’t know how, but it wasn’t! It was like being drugged, no, it was worse. There was something else in him. Moving him, and he was awake, but only a little. Buried beneath it, unable to fight back. Unable to stop it. But forced to be party to all the blood it shed. It made him something he was not, so much more completely and irrevocably and unforgivably than Azarov ever did. And there’s just. There’s no coming back from that. There’s no way to make peace with it! Or get past it! Or anything like that! It’s so beyond over. It breaks his mind. It breaks him. It’s too much to hold. He’s been using the bell. The bell that used to warn there were people coming to kill family when he was a child, and he’s been using it to announce he’s coming to kill, like he was one of the men who would enact genocide for a little bit of hate or a little bit of money. How, how has been doing this? Doing any of it. He killed one seconds ago, and there’s another at his feet now, waiting to die. And he just collapses and holds his head and screams, that muffled, choked scream from vocal chords damaged a little from their complete lack of use. And he doesn’t see anything at all for a minute, except pain and the past and the present and the possible futures, as he tries to bear more pain than is physically possible, and then he’s a little aware of the world again, and the girl is moving. She’s edging towards the sickle he dropped. And he could stop her. But he just stays still and watches her take it, and she closes her fingers around the hilt and shakily shoots to her feet and levels it at him.

Says, “Don’t move!” in a trembling voice.

Of all the things. He was about to murder her, and she’s telling him not to move. Like there’s a way she might offer not to kill him, if he complies. She’s so small. Maybe the smallest in all his memories. Maybe the smallest one there’s ever been here. In another life, she could have been him. Could have been his sister. She could have been the one walking down a road, wishing to kill people like the man who killed a friend. Maybe she’s there, right now. She must be.

He stays kneeled and looks at her for a second with eyes that, for once and only once, are his own deep brown like hers, and not glowing, and then he lowers his head and closes them and says, “Kill me.”

It’s the first thing he’s said in years. It’s the first time in years he’s had a reason to speak. He doesn’t want to take the words back.

She doesn’t. She hesitates. Says, “What?” Lost and confused. He can’t understand why on earth she would hesitate. She shouldn’t.

“I don’t know how long this will last,” he says, opening his eyes and looking up at her again. It’s hard to do. There’s blood matted in her dreads and the little pink shirt she’s wearing, and some of it is fresh, still bleeding, from where he was starting to kill her. “Kill me while you have the chance. Before I become like that again.”

“Before…?” She hesitates again. Trying to figure him out. Trying to do the right thing, somehow, even here and now. “’Like that’—you mean—you don’t…control what you do, as the Wraith? You can’t?”

“I don’t know,” he says in his voice that never speaks. He doesn’t. And he has a deep, troubling feeling, that if he lives, he is not going to remain himself long enough to understand it, either. “But that is not me. Kill me. Before I become it again. … Please,” he adds. It’s harder to get out than the rest. He doesn’t have a right to ask her for anything.

“B-but,” she stutters, suddenly so unready to kill him. She lowers the blade a little and it hurts to see. “If it’s not you—if the Entity uses your body, and you’re just somebody trapped inside, you’re a victim too. I could save you! There might be a way to stop it!”

She’s so desperate to help him. That’s almost enough to kill him on its own.

“Don’t try to save me, child,” he pleads with as much voice as he has left, “Whatever it has done to me, I have done it with it. I am not a thing to be saved. Kill me while you can. Avenge your friend.” She still doesn’t want to. He can see it in her face. She’s worried now—afraid to do the wrong thing. How can something so innocent and kind be left in her after being ripped apart so often in this hell. It’s almost comforting to see it, in spite of everything. There is no longer any hope for him, but if she is still like this, there must still be hope. For them. For other people. It will not always end for people like him like it is for him himself.

“You would be doing me a favor,” he says, because he remembers he doesn’t want her to have a death on her soul, and if she cannot see this as just, she must see it as mercy, or it will scar her too. He hesitates, lost. Thinking about what will happen if she doesn’t. Thinking again about what already has. “I don’t want to be this. Please,” he whispers. He starts crying. Or maybe he was before. He wasn’t aware, but he feels it now. Silent, but his face is cold from the breeze against it in the night air.

“I could save you,” she says again, pleading now too.

And Philip feels the Entity go inside him then. While he’s looking into her eyes. And he knows he’s going to be buried again in a second, and he may never wake back up, may just be trapped forever watching himself murder innocents like he was the kind of man who loved it. And she still has a chance to kill him if she does it now, but he sees her face, and the kindness there, and the worry, and concern for someone she should feel no concern for, and he knows even if he asks her this one last time, she will not do it, and whatever he tries, he only has an instant to do it in before he is gone again, maybe gone for good, and with everything he has of himself left in the second he has remaining, he shouts at her to run.

Also! Since I did Philip’s as a narrative, I’m doing a short one for Rin too, but under the cut. : ) Hope you enjoy these the Philip one made me cry. :’-]

 It wasn’t meant to be shut off.

The plan had never been for one of the killers operating under controlled illusion and compulsion to realize what they had been living. Why would it be? That was only going to cause the Entity problems. But blight was an unpredictable biological event, even for the Entity, and this year was a little different even than most. Different, because The Blight himself was tinkering maybe a little too much. The purge this year was deep, and intense, and the killers themselves were more involved than ever, and the system broke. Not for long. More a hiccup, than anything. A burst of static. But it happened, nonetheless.

Rin wasn’t in a trial. She was in the estate, waiting, like she always did between trials. She needed to get home to kill her father. Any day, any minute now, she would get to do it and avenge her mom and be free. She was folding origami cranes. 1,000 of them, and her wish would come true. She would go home, and finish her father, and be at peace. And she was excited. Happy. A stack of paper beside her, and she had been folding for hours. This was 987. So close now, it was in her grasp. “988, 989, 990. 991, 992,” she whispered to herself as she folded cranes, trying to go faster and faster and fumbling a little in her excitement. “993. 994—” A sudden burst of wind came out of nowhere, and the crane in her hands was torn away, and the little pile she had scattered, and as she turned to look after them, vanished into the inky black sky.

She felt her eyes well up with tears. “I was so close,” she whispered to herself, heart sinking. But that’s okay, she tried to tell herself, You were so close in just a few hours. You’ll get it this time. And, consoled, she started again, back to one. Sure she’d get it this time.

She was on number 413 when the Entity’s control was suddenly lost.

Rin faltered, hands halfway to making a fold, and stared at nothing, then slowly looked down at the bird in her hands.

Oh no, she thought, unable to assign any emotion to the thoughts except a vague echo of fear, I’ve done this before. Not once before. Not twice. Not twenty. Thousands. She had done this thousands of times before. And always, always on the nine hundred and ninety-fourth one, they were blown away, and she started again.

How long have I been doing this? she thought in a panic, a deep, real fear seeping into her body.

And then it hit her for real.

Not the cranes, and the endless cycle. But the time in-between. The trials.

“No,” she whispered. She went rigid, then twitched. It was too much to bear. Memories flooded her brain and it was more pain than she was able to take. People. God, so, so many people. Some of them could have been her own age, even, and all of them she had…God. The memories were harsh and unbearable. In her head, it had been her father. She had been…been killing him. Or been—been practicing. Been getting ready. God, god, it had made so much sense to her. Like she was meditating to work her way to the real thing. But how had she thought that? It had never been him at all! It had been people, people like her! Fuck—people running, people screaming, and bleeding, and begging, and crying, and being torn to pieces at her feet.

I killed them, she thought in horror, I killed them all.

So many times. So many times. And it was the same people? How? How did she keep killing the same ones?

Where am I? thought Rin in desperation. She shot to her feet and looked around. It—it was home, but, but no, no, no, no, it wasn’t home at all! It was wrong. It was like home in a dream, where you thought you recognized the place, but the moment you woke you realized how completely wrong the structure had been, and were lost as to how it had ever felt right at all! What am I? she wondered in horror as she caught sight of the hue of her hand. Stumbling over her feet, Rin tore out to the gardens, looking for something she could see herself in, and fell to her knees by the little nearly dried up stream, and looked. And brought her hands up to her mouth in despair and fear.

She wasn’t a person anymore. She was pale, almost blue, and her arm was detached. Glass in her shoulder—god, she could feel it now. Feel the agony. And her side? It was—it was in pieces—she’d almost been ripped in two! She started to wonder how she was even still alive, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t, god, and that was so terrifying to try to truly understand. Her eyes were white like a Yurei. No. No, she realized, starting to cry, No. An Onryo.

How long had she been one? How—? NO. NO! How will I ever get free? She had to kill her father! It would be the only way to ever end this? And where was he! Where was she!

Rin stumbled to her feet and ran, looking for an exit, to—to wherever was away from here. She made it to the edge of the garden, and saw trees ahead, and tore for them, and slammed against a barrier she couldn’t see and was knocked back onto the ground.

Struggling up, Rin found the barrier and slammed her hands against it, but it didn’t budge, and no matter how hard she pushed, she couldn’t make it through.

“Help!” she called as loud as she could, crying again in the impossibility of her situation, “Please! Someone! Anybody! Can anyone hear me? Is anyone out there!”

Nothing.

The whole world was empty, except for her. She kept pounding, kept calling, kept trying to get free, but there was no change. And exhausted, she fell to her knees and cried.

“Please.” Miserable, she curled up into a little ball and wept silently, trying to make sense of all the horrible murders in her head. Thinking of how awful the night with her father had been, how impossible it had been to understand a man like him would do a thing like he had done to her mother, and then her, and how she had known for completely certain she would never ever ever do such a thing herself, and now she was just like him.

“Did…did you say, uh…’help’?” came a voice Rin didn’t know.

She looked up in surprise, and through blurry dead eyes, saw a girl she recognized—a girl with three red braids in her hair, out of breath and flushed from running, looking at her warily from about ten feet back.

Rin’s English wasn’t amazing, but she was pretty sure the girl had asked her something about calling for help.

“’Tasukete’ right?” said the girl, eyeing her with a little suspicion and a lot of confusion.

I was right! I was right, she heard me!

Rin hurriedly sat up a little and nodded.

“…Why?” asked the redhead, moving a little closer.

And Rin was suddenly not seeing her. She was seeing hundreds of versions of this girl from her past. She was seeing one form last week, that she had chopped to bits with her katana the exact way her father had killed her, and she was sick, and couldn’t say anything at all. Could barely move. She wanted to hide. Wanted to curl up in a cold dark corner and never be seen again. She wanted to wake up and find none of this had ever happened.

“ごめんなさい。” whispered Rin, because ‘Sorry’ was the only word suddenly that she could even remember anymore.

The girl seemed to know that one to, and blinked at her in surprise, and took another step closer. “…Sorry?” she asked in a very different tone of voice. Less hostile. Less wary. More worried and confused. “For—what’s going on?”

Rin felt it coming while the girl was still speaking. There was a heaviness settling on her brain, and it was a terrifying heaviness. It was like finding another person with you inside your body, who had forced their way in, but they had not only joined you, but found a way to make your body more theirs than yours. She saw her vision flicker, and the girl was her father for a second, and things made less sense and more sense at once, but the things that made more sense were all wrong and murders and millions of paper cranes that would never be enough to buy a wish. And she reached out and put her hand against the barrier and tried to warn the girl, tried to say something, but suddenly there was no girl. Just her father, glaring back at her and filling her with rage and fear and hate, and she couldn’t remember the girl or why she was here, but she knew what the thing in front of her was, and she wanted to kill it.

#ask #anonymous #dead by daylight #writing #long post #dbd #Philip Ojomo #Rin Yamaoka

[lonelypond]

AU YEAH AUGUST: Single Parent

Love Live, NicoMaki, 3K, Day 3: Single Parent AU as requested by Anonymous, hope you enjoy!

mood: Halestorm

Dr. Maki Nishikino was out for an anonymous night on the town. Too many meetings, too many days being orderly and organized, too many evenings at events arranged by the staffs of charities, too many dresses, too many after midnights coming home at 2 a.m., tearing off heels and pantyhose, collapsing on her bed, then crawling out 5 hours later for a five minute shower and a ten hour shift. Too many people. So tonight, she was alone.

Rin had had told about a bar that had a Silent Disco night. You put on headphones and danced in a crowd of other, isolated people. Maki was intrigued. She’d never minded people watching...or people watching her, as long as they didn’t attempt to interact. Headphones on, world off, Halestorm howling.

“There's so much left unspoken

Between the two of us

It's so much more exciting

To look when you can't touch

You could say I'm different

Maybe I'm a freak

But I know how to twist you

To bring you to your knees”

Small bar, but the basement was huge and cool, sawdust scattered across the floor, gargoyles guarding the corner. The lighting was dim, the green, blue, and purple glow from the headphones blips against the darkness. There were a few spotlights, with dancers moving through them, and Maki kept finding her attention drawn to the woman who had claimed the central one. Tiniest person in the bar, face carved of sharp angles and youthful energy, midnight hair loose, blood red eyes bright as a record button in the dark, moves flowing with supple suggestiveness.

More Halestorm in Maki’s  headphones

“ I'll give you one last night

So make it twisted

Give you one last shot, go on and hit it

Give you one last time to make me miss it

Baby, love me apocalyptic

Come on!”

Maki watched the dainty dynamo dominate the dance floor, ebon hair whipping dangerously around her, watched her twist and swivel and swoop and clear everyone out of her spotlight, eyelids flicking closed, sweat dripping down, tongue flicking out to taste it, then a drop and a move that surely only a professional could pull off.

The beat changed, still Halestorm, and the unreal eyes opened, and Maki found out she’d been drawn close enough to be grabbed when a hand captured her wrist. Lush lips mouthed lyrics at her,

“Better be scared, better be afraid

Now that the beast is out of her cage

And I know you wanna risk it

You know you are so addicted

Boy, you better run for your life!”

Pounding, Maki’s heart was pounding, her head was pounding, up and down with the harsh beat, hands were suddenly rough at her waist pulling her closer, lips curled in what could best be described as a wickedly knowing smirk that suggested Maki had already been undressed in a fantasy. And yet Maki’s hands fell onto the shorter woman’s shoulders, as if it were a practiced motion.

And then the music slowed and the mood didn’t.

“Let's take our clothes off

I wanna show you my hidden tattoo

That nobody ever gets to see but you do

Oh baby let me taste ya, shake ya, tie you up and break ya

'Cause I've been alone, left on my own for too long

Oh damn, too long, too long, too long, I say come on”

Slow dances for Maki meant waltzing at formal parties her parents made her go to, but this, this was nothing like this. Hips against hips, eyes closed, finding rhythms, fighting to stay upright, being so aware of someone that Maki felt every breath, being so close to someone that the sweet dripping off their nose slid tantalizingly down Maki’s lips and she couldn’t help but flick her tongue out to taste it, and then it wasn’t Maki’s tongue tasting and she wasn’t hearing the music anymore, although the beat was still there, captured between their hips and Maki was shivering in a corner, being shoved against a wall, hands under her shirt, lips on her neck, eyes impossibly bright watching  as she jerked, a stranger’s fingers probing.

Maki kept it together, long enough to drag the non conversation to her car, long enough for an exchange of names, long enough for an ask, followed by the softest, gentlest pressure of lips against hers, as she whispered yes and then, then Nico was all tongue and twist and Maki screaming.

“Cause there's a new drug, baby, that I can't resist

It's like a thousand bolts of lightning when we kiss

And can you show me now, how can I get my fix?

Is it love? Is it love? Is it love? ”

Sunrise was happening and dinner was breakfast...Maki shook her head, still muddled as Nico handed her a burger and slid next to her. Maki had let Nico drive to the nearest open fast food joint, staying in the backseat, covered by a blanket dragged out of the trunk, still breathless.

“Wow.” Maki breathed.

Nico laughed, a little smug, “Nico’s the best.”

Maki frowned but pushed her shoulder into Nico, playful, sitting up, “French fries?” Nico pulled one out of the bag, offering it to Maki, who leaned forward to bite it in half, “Cute.”

Maki shrugged, “Hungry.”

Nico dropped an arm casually around Maki, as she bit into her burger, “You don’t seem like the backseat of the car type.”

“‘M not.” Maki chewed through embarrassment, not looking at her companion.

“Tell me something about you.”

“I’m boring.”

“That’s not what Nico would say…” Nico’s laugh rolled away Maki’s hesitation and the redhead found herself grinning as they ate in silence, resting against each other. But as the sun rose, practical came back into the world, and Maki sighed at the thought of her overpacked schedule. “I like not worrying about contraception. My hours are too long to have a ‘surprise.’”

“Yeah.” Nico finished her burger and leaned her head back, “Nico prefers full grown surprises with pretty eyes like yours.”

“Do you have many?” Maki wriggled closer to Nico.

“Nope.” Nico shook her head, Maki watching a grin slowly gleam into being, “Nico’s usually a three date kind of girl.”

“So now you owe me three dates.” Maki turned in, curling up, staring at Nico. “Doesn’t this count as one.” Nico winked. Maki’s lips neared Nico’s ear and she enjoyed Nico’s twitch of anticipation before she slowly breathing out, “Nope.” Then she sat up and grabbed the bag, digging for french fries.

Nico tried to sound aggrieved, but there was too much of a hint of a giggle, “Fine, Maki, give Nico your number and I’ll text you. We go on Date One this weekend. Nico will make a picnic.”

Maki slid her hand in Nico’s back pocket, stealing the phone, punching in numbers. Nico wondered if going back for dessert could count as a date, but then Maki’s pout at being ignored pulled Nico back to other sweet thoughts and she stole another messy, slippery, salty, greasy, teasing kiss instead.

“You took me to your little crib

Guess it must have been a big deal (a big deal)

Got me starring in your wet dream

Now it's time to get real (get real)

I'm not looking for love

No not today”

Maki hated her phone. Every day, for the past 97 days, it was a reminder that Nico had never texted or called or shown up at that club at a time when Maki just happened to be hanging out there, for no reason at all. And that Maki had been too busy kissing Nico to text herself from Nico’s phone. Fortunately, when she was on her hospital rounds, her phone was locked away in her office. Tonight, she was on duty in the Emergency Room, one of her favorite shifts. Problems solved and they didn’t linger even if they weren’t. Patients were assigned to general practitioners or specialists for follow ups and Maki moved on to the next thing. Like Nico had. No regret, barely any memory, no...calls...Maki felt her fists clenching as she headed to the nurse’s station for a heads up about her first patient, a young male, 12 years old, who’d been hit by a car while riding his bike.

Maki walked into the room, noticing the slight, dark haired youth unconscious on the bed. Stabilize, send off for tests...her first thought, she didn’t have a second thought when she glanced up to see if a parent was in the room and recognized blood red eyes flooded with tears. Nico hastily sat up a little straighter, her arm quickly raised to hide and scrub the evidence of upset from her face. “Nico?” Maki had been anticipating a raging flood of anger when she saw Nico again, but instead there was a surprised squeak.

“Oh, oh I... I'm your rock n' roll joan of arc

The queen of broken hearts

I'm here to save the world, but who will save super girl?

What if I'm weak and I need you tonight?

I hate it... I hate it when you see me cry”

Cotarou had been sent off for tests, to see how bad the break in his leg was and make sure there wasn’t any internal damage. Nico was sitting in the room, too still, waiting for her brother’s return. Maki found herself walking by the doorway, unnoticed by Nico, too aware of the other woman’s body language. Nico was curled in on herself, frightened, Maki realized, texting furiously on her phone with someone. A lover? No, who would leave someone they cared for alone in an ER like this.  Maki remembered Nico demanding coffee to get through her morning, some awful concoction that was half excessive caffeine, half creamer. Maki could mix up a mess like that from what they kept stocked in the break room so she told the nearest nurse she was taking a brief break and took two cups of coffee to the room to Cotarou’s room.

“Every time I try to get a little closer

You shut down and the conversation's over

I'm right here, but you leave me in the dark

Show me your private parts”

Nico was pacing nervously. Maki stood in the door, watching, thrown by flashbacks to the dance floor, the car, as Nico mumbled to herself, arms swinging around or locked behind her head or stopping to stomp or nudge something with her foot. After realizing Nico was too absorbed in worry to notice her on this night, Maki announced herself with a nervous cough. If both hands hadn’t been full, she would have been twirling her hair.

Nico stopped, arms crossed over her chest, “Is there news?”

Maki shook her head, “Not yet. Worrying won’t hurry the tests, Nico, just wear you out.” Maki extended the right hand cup to Nico, “I remember you drink a disgusting mess of half coffee, half fake dairy.”

Nico snorted, “You only remembered so you could make fun of Nico’s tastes, like you did…” Nico stopped.

“You never texted.” Maki said, still surprised at her lack of anger. But this worried, collapsed into herself Nico was almost the exact opposite of the brash, charming Nico she’d met 3 months ago, and yet, Maki found herself drawn in again, without a spotlight, hyperaware of the other woman’s every mood, every twitch. “It’s been awhile.”

“97 days.” Nico muttered.

“Yeah.” Maki sipped, taking a chair, “What happened?”

Nico sighed, swirling her coffee instead of drinking it. Which needed to change, Maki thought Nico was looking pale and might need a quick sugar hit...maybe she should have grabbed a chocolate bar for her as well.

“It wasn’t you…” Nico grumbled, fist clenched, knee jiggling.

Still no anger, Maki thought, just a harsh roar of laughter, inappropriate for the moment, “So now that you’re here you’re dodging me with cheap, cheesy tropes…” okay, maybe there was some resentment breaking through.  “I...I...kept thinking about you…wondering...”

Uncoiling, Nico chugged the coffee, threw the cup in the garbage can like a major league fastballer, and rushed Maki, who could hear clearly how much hurt Nico was swallowing , “How could I call you? I got home, changed clothes and my mom was on my doorstep with my three siblings. She’d been deployed and was leaving in 12 hours.”

“Oh.” Maki met Nico’s glance, still fascinated by the rare color and these new wounds Nico was leaving open.

Nico pulled back, “Not one surprise, but three...even if Nico thought you could hack it, Nico’s business needed as much attention as her siblings.” Genuine sadness and a sweet smile with no trace of sugary artifice or saccharine fakery, “No time for even one date.”  Nico slumped again, turning away, Maki knowing that the red eyes she’d wanted to see again for the past three months were about to be flooded again.

Maybe a question would give Nico a chance to compose herself. “3 siblings?”

“Cotarou…” Nico stumbled, then inhaled, “Cocoro’s at college and Cocoa was at work when this happened. She waits tables at my restaurant after school.”

“You own a restaurant?” “Nico is the best celebrity chef in the business...Yazawa’s?” Nico nudged, her face recovering some of its sharpness. “Used to be my dad’s.”

Maki shook her head, “I don’t get out on my own much. ‘S my family’s hospital. We’re very active socially, with charity and things like that.” “‘Very active socially’…” Nico sniped, a mocking tone tingeing her retort, “Is that the rich version of ‘too busy and bored out of your mind?’”

Maki chuckled, but before she could answer her com buzzed and Nico’s attention and attitude tensed, “It’s not about your brother.” Maki said after a quick glance.

Nico nodded, but the mood had changed. Maki stood, “I’ll go see if I can find anything out.”

“Thanks, Maki.”

Maki nodded, glad to have gotten Nico speaking in a more natural voice.

“Here's to us

Here's to love

All the times

That we fucked up

Here's to you

Fill the glass

Cause the last few days

Have kicked my ass”

“It is a displaced tibia fracture but the surgery is pretty routine and tonight’s on call orthopedic surgeon is the best, we went to school together.” Maki was speaking to both Nico and Cotarou, who had thankfully escaped concussion symptoms or any internal damage, “Then there’ll be physical therapy to get the leg back to full strength, but we have the best physical therapists in the city.”

“And the surgery has to happen now?” Nico was holding Cotarou’s hand and brushing the hair out of his eyes.

“We need to stabilize his leg so more damage doesn’t occur.”

Nico glared, “If it happened to you, is this the surgeon you would use?”

Maki was taken aback by the fierceness that had taken over the smaller woman. Two orderlies came in, ready to take Cotarou off, but Nico wasn’t going to let go of her brother or the bed until she got the answer she wanted from Maki.

“Yes.” Maki’s head nod was firm, body language as confident as she could make it. “Fine, then Nico approves.” She released the clutch of her hands, kissed her brother on his forehead, “You’ll be okay, Cotorou, Maki’s friend is going to take care of you.”

Cotorou nodded, but he was mostly loopy from pain and medication.

“Nico Nico Ni” Nico did a quick dance and raised her hands to her temple as her brother giggled, “Nico will be there when you’re done, okay.”

The orderlies rolled Cotarou out of the room.

Maki decided to be tall and let herself get as close to Nico as she had all night, hands in her lab coat pocket, surprised by the flush of nervous warmth as she neared Nico and the smaller woman glanced up. Maki stopped when she felt Nico’s arm against hers. Shoulder to shoulder. A totally different dynamic than their last encounter but somehow, standing next to this subdued Nico still felt right. Maki pushed the door open, “I’ll walk you to the waiting room.” Nico stopped on her way out, and started to say something but Maki just leaned down to kiss her cheek, “He’s going to be fine, Nico.”

Nico nodded, her hand brushing Maki’s for a moment, both women wondering if the other had felt the shock too.

“I don't know how to stop

I'll give it all I've got

It's like my brakes are shot

I gotta have too much

I don't know how to stop

It's crazy, but so what?”

Maki’s shift was over. She made a quick fast food run and returned to the hospital, quietly heading for the waiting room where she’d left Nico. Nico was lying on a couch, looking tiny and cold. Maki took off her jacket, laying it over Nico, who startled, waking. Maki offered the bag, “I brought dinner for breakfast.”

Maki sat next to Nico, legs stretched out, bag between them, pulling out the burgers, “So does Yazawa’s have better burgers than this?” Nico shook her head, clucking. “Gorgeous, rich redhead keeps her figure through french fry addiction.”

Maki bit into a fry, then offered the rest to Nico, “Hey, if it works, it works.” Nico, side eye only, glanced over her dining companion, “It works.”

“I don’t mind the surprises.” Maki said slowly, through a mouthful of burger. There was no immediate response, but after a moment Nico grabbed the bag, shoving it out of the way  as she slid closer.

“Hey!” Maki complained, reaching out, “Those are my fries.”

Nico caught her hand, and pulled in the doctor for a quick embrace, “Nico missed your finding me irresistable.” Maki nabbed a fry, “It was the post coital haze.”

Nico’s face wrangled an expression out of disgust and disbelief, “It was good you didn’t try to charm Nico with conversation.”

Maki yawned and stretched, her arm dropping over Nico’s shoulders, “I can be charming,” “Nope.” Nico leaned back, relaxing, “Not your strong suit.”

“Really?” Maki raised an eyebrow. “Really.” Nico curled into Maki, “Stick with cute and warm and really into Nico. Nico likes that.”

“You owe me three dates.” Maki announced.

Nico reached into the bag, pulling out a fry, offering it to Maki with, who leaned forward to bite it in half, “Doesn’t this count as one?” Maki leaned down, her lips once again nearing Nico’s ear, to breathe out a response, but this time she would make Nico shiver as it turned into a kiss, “Maybe two.”

A/N: I wouldn't have thought Halestorm would fuel a Single Parent AU, but here were are.

For those waiting for a Casual Lunacy update, I'm reading through the whole thing to make sure I wrap up all the plot threads and closing out Merry Wives of Windsor this weekend. After that, I'm planning to post the first of the 4-6 chapter final arc at the end of next week.

There is a playlist.

Drop a comment and take care!

#au yeah august #AU August #NicoMaki #Halestorm #music #love live