#iv. NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO DON’T FALL ASLEEP » … out of character.

[littlemarie]

hola nerds it’s gemma again 🤓 on today’s episode i present 2 u miss city gworl bae sumi! she’s a phd candidate enrolled in the joint program between snu and han pharmaceuticals so on the outside u may think she’s smart n has her life tgt, but in reality she’s a lil uhm *nicki minaj vc* messy 💅 also if u’ve read her powers u’ll notice that it reads like a literal demon ( s/o 2 the nara clan and don’t starve together for the inspo ) so u best believe ya girl sumi here is od’ing on ability suppressants bc she is truly not doin this shit today! imma place all further rambling under the cut for all u keen folk but otherwise, pls hit that LIKE to plot!! thank u lov u mwah ♡

p.s. this is a sideblog so im rlly sry in advance but i can’t follow back!! ims will b thru @renegaed​!!

grew up in rural andong! needless to say the view on metahumans there is not nearly as progressive bc it’s no eden! it’s not like metahumans are hated or anyth but as a lil context i do think religion and superstition would have a much bigger role in rural areas, similarly to our world today

anw sumi is the oldest of three siblings! she’s born to a human mother n a father who’s a silent carrier of the metahuman gene, so they were a lil shocked to find out that sumi’s got that sliver of gold in her eyes 🤓 in the end they can’t be too surprised tho, since her dad’s older sister is metahuman ( she’ll come into play later )

as a child, sumi has alw had a really overactive imagination and is v fearful of ghosts n the dark! v typical of lil children her age and her mom doesn’t bat an eye when she’s runnin 2 her parents room at night n tellin em there’s a monster under her bed... bc of this she alw sleeps w a nightlight but yknow this is still p normal, nothin out of the extraordinary

until her power manifests at 5 and weird shit starts happening... like mom walks in n finds the window in her and her brother’s ( subin’s ) room wide open when both her children r too short to reach it, or subin is claiming that sumi beheaded his teddy bear n she’s crying n saying she didn’t do shit tf the ghost did it!! her mom is getting hella spooked n is like yknow what imma go see a shaman

the shaman tells sumi’s mom that sumi is haunted and her bad dreams of ghosts n shit r a bad omen, and that it is likely that her close family members will suffer bad health if they don’t ditch her ass

sounds ridic wtf but also she’s gettin rlly... scared of sumi n she’s not doin a v good job of hiding it... it gets worse when one night she hears her son crying n screaming n when she rushes to their room she sees him FLOATING n notices that sumi’s shadow seems to have stretched n merged w subin’s n she screams

sumi’s mom is rlly not doin well at this point... she has 0 idea what to do n she’s hella scared of sumi until her dad is like wait maybe sumi’s not actually haunted mayb it’s her power? regardless, both of them do not know how to raise a metahuman kid and time is ticking bc they’re afraid sumi’s gna k*ll subin n them w her shenanigans, so they decide that the best course of action is to ship sumi off to live w her metahuman aunt in eden

so now sumi’s livin w her aunt who she’s never met her entire life other than like a facetime every now n then! her aunt is a certified Cool Aunt, has divination as a power n is single n v happily childfree, so she has 0 clue how 2 raise a kid but she’s doin this bc thru her ability to see into the future, she realises that sumi has a.... bigger problem than her powers: that’s right the bitch is a pyromaniac n her parents were so concerned ab her powers that they missed all the warning signs! the stolen lighters.... the hidden ashes in the flower pot that’s actually burnt origami that sumi brought home from sch... the shaman was right sumi would’ve brought em “bad health” by accidentally burnin the whole house down!!!! 

her aunt doesn’t rlly bother telling her parents this tho bc she doesn’t wanna spook them further ( according 2 her they are rolls eyes easily scared so it’s no wonder sumi’s inherited this ) n there was no way they were goin 2 b able to overcome their fears to raise sumi not necessarily right, but like.... without death so she’s like it’s me who’s gotta do it 

to sumi’s defense she became a pyromaniac out of fear of the dark n fire brought a lot of comfort 2 her n it was to the point where whenever she felt scared ab anyth in general she would feel this intense need to light a fire bc somehow she would feel protected by it n that nth could hurt her bc the fire would protect her

anw sumi’s mom says this solution is only temporary but she keeps postponing the date she’s gna come take sumi back so ig sike sumi’s aunt is rlly j her mom now n that’s on that w abandonment issues

it’s for the better tho bc sumi’s aunt is like objectively the better parent tho she doesn’t rlly treat sumi like her kid, kinda is more like an older sis figure!!

so back 2 sumi’s upbringing, her aunt lets her run around the house for a bit n realises that bc she’s alone now n in a new place, her shadow is acting up even more as she sleeps w her nightlight n turnin it off is not an option bc sumi will start 2 cry n want to light fires!!! bit of a catch22 so the aunt decides 2 tackle the easier problem first n buy her ability suppressants so she can at least sleep w her nightlight on!!

w ability suppressants it all starts to go rlly well, sumi’s aunt j predicts when she’ll light fires w her divination n manage to put a stop to it ( she’s not alw successful ofc... sumi ends up accidentally burning the tent she bought for performing gut rituals and other shit but.. the good news is most irreversible damage has been prevented )

it’s rlly j a cat n mouse between her n her aunt n this continues well into her teenage years until she’s sorta calmed down a bit!! fires still bring her a lot of peace and she still lights em every now and then, but she mostly is able to ignore the impulse unless she’s goin thru some like... really bad shit in her life then she’ll start planning fires n it all gets a lil out of control

anw sumi has alw been rlly intelligent and one thing she’s rlly passionate ab is nvr having 2 be around ghosts ( e.g. her shadow ) so she studies metahuman biology in snu as an undergraduate then masters n now she’s doin her phd in metahuman biology!! her research project is on trying 2 make ability suppressants more efficacious ( like safely increasing duration n potency ) n she’s enrolled in a joint program between snu n han pharmaceuticals!! her goal is 2 create a cure that can make her powers disappear permanently ( ty rogue 4 the inspo )

uhh this was a lot of rambling im sry... a lil ab her personality: rn sumi is at the phase of her life where it’s like falling apart but she’s pretending everything is totes fine : ) she’s drinking on a tuesday night n turning up to lab hungover n giving talks ab her project like sis is rlly not doin well... anyone who’s known sumi outside of work will b able to tell she is messy as shit BUT SHE’S FINE!!

she’s also v impulsive n will do things on a whim,, like imagine she’s tellin u she has a deadline to meet at 12pm tmr but it’s 2am n she’s in the club n she apparently hasn’t started but it’s FINE!!! will tell u she’s completely over her ex then ask u if ur still awake n to pls pick her up from his house at 2am but yknow what it’s FINE

if anyone insists 2 know sumi will tell u she’s j a bad luck charm ( aka the jinx ability where she brings everyone around her bad luck n it can’t be turned off ) 

ok uhm if uve read this far ilu!!! i will now reward u w some plot ideas ♡

sumi may b an unpredictable messy city girl whose life is falling apart but yknow where all the unpredictable messy city girls whose lives r falling apart go?? u got that right they go to BEAT!! she is there every week without fail so uhm if ur muse is a regular... yknow where 2 find me xo

another BEAT plot: she also cries in the club n cries outside the club so like if ur muse happens 2 walk into that...... idk where this would go but i promise u she would tell u she’s fine her life is poppin but we all know it’s bad when she’s lying to her therapist

being a student at snu n han pharma, it’s likely that if ur muse frequents the place or works there, she’ll likely bump into u!! or if ur muse is a journalist who’s tryna get an inside scoop of what’s happenin at han pharma... sumi knows nth ab the human trials but imagine if one of the researchers working on it was also named sumi n u mistake her for that person 🤡

speaking of snu n han pharma imagine if u only know sumi only in a professional context n think she’s v professional and j an upright citizen,, then there’s some work occasion where ur all gathered 2 meet in a casual setting n there’s alcohol involved n now she’s drunk off her ass n she tells u to pls help sneak her out bc she’s 100% she saw her colleagues staring n judging her

sumi’s aunt used to take her to the children’s park quite a bit when she was p young so!! if ur muse is born 94-98 n also went to the children’s park a lot, maybe they could b childhood friends who met there!!

yeah so imagine sumi starts a fire somewhere n it starts gettin out of hand,,, this can be literally anywhere secluded in the city but uhm pls help she is basically a human w the amount of ability suppressants she’s on she can’t stop this fire

sumi’s also got a burn mark on her forearm from one time when she got hurt from a fire she started!! i assume she went to the hospital for it n the timeline of this is flexible, but if ur muse works at the hospital, mayb she was assigned as their patient n her aunt confessed that she was a pyromaniac that’s how this happened?? this part of her is rlly hush hush n no one knows ab it other than her aunt ( not even her parents ) n sumi is v concerned ab appearing 2 b a certified Cool Girl n this is rlly not the vibe so like... wyd imagine she threatens u

sumi lives in jeoljeong highrises w her aunt!! yall could b neighbours it would b cute!!

honestly sumi is pretty unpredictable so she could turn up at lit any location i could find an excuse for anyth so uhm yeah hmu

aight uhm messy sumi time... so she is v reckless n is also goin thru a bit of a ho phase so imagine yall had a one night stand not knowing who tf u guys are n now u bump into each other in a professional setting or smth... 🥵 wyd r u pretending udk her

alternatively yall met on a dating app n either she unmatched u or u unmatched her ( maybe the sexual chemistry was hella off too ) but now u find out u have mutual friends n they wanna hang n ur at this awkward dinner tgt 🥶 wyd

i feel like sumi is the kinda person who ghosts her ex n that’s on that w anxious-avoidant attachment 🤙 so who wanna be ghosted line up 4 the trauma

#iv. NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO DON’T FALL ASLEEP » … out of character. #ast:intro #sry this is late i was out n now it's late oop #see yall online tmr

[warrenposts]

Prompt List

1. "Everybody needs a break sometimes, I get it."

2. "Please be careful, I don't want to see you hurt yourself."

3. “I know it hurts, we’re almost done”

4.  "what can i do for you? please, i want to help."

5. "Just shut up and let me hug you."

6. “when was the last time you slept?”

7. “i didn’t know you slept like that. it’s cute.”

8. “you lay a hand on them one more time and i’ll take it clean off of you.”

9. “don’t you dare put yourself in a position like that ever again!”

10. “i just wanted to come by and check on you. yesterday was a rough one.”

11. "I won't spoil you just because you have been so careless to injure yourself."

12. "How do you always know exactly what I need?" "You're obnoxiously vocal when you're uncomfortable."

13. "You need to wash your hands." *shaky* "I couldn't save them."

14. "You don't have to worry about me." "Why would I be worried?"

15.  “i couldn’t find you and i just thought something happened, alright...” 

16. "You woke me up at 1 in the morning because you wanted to cuddle?"

17. "You're wearing my clothes"

18. "Don't touch that it's not safe."

19. "You better have a good reason for being out of bed."

20. "I know it bothered you, what they said-" "Forget it, it doesn't matter."

21. "You're trembling."

22. "It's a hobby of mine to prove you wrong."

23. "Did you mean what you said/Your opinion means more to me than anyone."

24. "When was the last time you slept?"

25. "Could you leave a light on? I'm not ready to be in the dark again."

26. "I don't think I've ever heard you laugh like that before."

27. "Don't scare me like that again."

28. "Should I stop talking?" "Don't, your voice is soothing."

29. "What're you laughing at?" "Your little snores are cute."

30. "Get behind me."

31. "I've never been good at accepting hugs." "You haven't let go of me for ten seconds." "Mmhm."

32. "Here let me just-" "No please don't let me go!"

Scenarios

1. Character B yelling Character A’s name while they’re hurt

2. Character A cooking Character B’s favorite meal after a tough day

3. Character A clinging to Character B in the aftermath of a serious event

4. B is trying to distract A when they need to get an IV because A hates needles

5. Character B runs their fingers through Character A''s hair and Character A panics because they should NOT have liked it that much

6. Character A finds out that Character B is ticklish and Character A realises life will never be the same again

7. Character A catches Character B crying and realises they love them because they never want to see them this sad again

8. Characters A and B are stuck somewhere waiting for help but B is bleeding out. A is just desperately trying to keep them awake.

9. Characters A and B huddling for warmth

10. Character A taking care of Character B when they're sick

11. Taking a bullet/punch/stab etc.

12. Character A catches Character B dancing around in the kitchen

13. Character A swapping out B's coffee for tea, driving them up the walls

14. Academic Rivals

15. Character A covers Character B with a blanket after B falls asleep on the couch

16. Frantic Love confession in the heat of an argument

17. There was only one bed

18. Delirious with pain or illness

19. Character A shields Character B from danger

The ones that are crossed out have been requested a few times (not bad about it but I am running out of ideas for them)

Requesting Guide

#lockwood & co #lockwood and co #george karim #george karim x reader #lockwood x reader #lucy carlyle #lucy carlyle x reader

[triplesilverstar]

A dream that's like a far off memory, or a nightmare

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: Body dysmorphia, Pre-Canon, Illnesses, Major Illness, Major Character Injury, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Experimentation, Medical Examination, Dreams and Nightmares, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Heavy Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Fever, Running Away, Communication Failure, Soft Vash the Stampede, Mild Smut, Not Beta Read, Heartbreaking, Imprisonment, Dark Past, Murder, Cartoon Physics, Vashs' Coat as a blanket, Needles, Nightmares

Word count: Roughly 3K

A/N: Chapter Three of Even sand can't hide all the skeletons in your closet. This one shows a lot of the past for Snipes.

Once the laboratory equipment went off, Luida went about her work prepping the culture and placing it into a needle and switching out the IV bag with the added nutrients for a new one containing the culture, injecting it into the pouch, and giving it a few shakes. 

Eyes filled with warmth as she worked, Vash had fallen asleep at some point while reading and keeping you company. Snoring away with his hand on your head, the tablet having fallen from his fingers between his thighs. 

Work done, Luida removes two sheets from other gurneys in the room, draping one over Vash before ever so gently adjusting you so your head is back against his thigh. The second sheet is placed over your own slumbering form and tucked around you. “When you next wake up you should be starting to feel better.” 

Something doesn’t feel right. Not right at all. As you wake up you hear birds chirping. Songbirds.

There aren’t any songbirds on Noman’s land. 

Opening your eyes you’re greeted by the sight of a well lit room, the sun rays beaming in through the floor to ceiling glass panes, gently warming your skin. 

This is wrong. 

Sitting up and looking around it, taking in your surroundings eats at your soul, but the tears don’t fall, no matter how much you want to cry out in anguish. You’re in your bed from when you were a teenager. And in the mirror on the other side, you stare into the reflection of a set of young eyes. Eyes that hadn’t been broken by the weight of everything you had done, everything you would do.

A blaring next to you, as your alarm clock goes off, the date flashing in the air as you slam your palm over it. You know what today is. 

Suddenly everything moves faster, and you’re sitting at your kitchen table having breakfast. You want to howl. You want to scream, you want to break everything in sight. Your body keeps moving on autopilot, spooning scrambled eggs into your mouth and listening to your parents speak. 

You see them. Yet you don’t, their bodies blurry outlines, faces nothing but swirling static, voices warbled and wrapped that you make out the words but can’t remember their voices. 

“I just don’t think they have the right to show up and tell us they’re here to run the aptitude tests.” Your mother. Right now all you can remember is how people used to say it was like she was made of steel. Unbend, unyielding. Yet, she used to sing to you, a skill you never inherited. “We aren’t one of their colonies.”

“Honey. It’s not like we can stop them, we might not be one of their colonies but they provide financial support for the terra forming core. You know. The place you work.” Your father. The voice of calm in the storm that was your mother, nothing had seemed to phase the man. He used to say it was because farmers couldn’t make the crops grow, just help them along. “Besides, Kiwi here is gonna blow them all away.”

You can’t feel the touch of his fingers on your head, ruffling your hair. God how you wish you could, they should have felt rough, covered in callus from working in the greenhouses. Swatting at his hand “whatever Dad. More like flunk like everything else.”

“You’re smart in your own way Kiwi, don’t let those teachers tell you otherwise.” For a moment you can see it. That megawatt smile your father had that could light up any space, could make everything seem brighter. The eternal optimist. “Alright finish up and we’ll get going.” 

Another jump, as the world speeds on until you’re leaving the modular home. Stopping as you look at the flowers swaying in the breeze, small cornblue petals with yellow centers. Scowling as your father wraps a toned forearm around you, laughing in your ear, wishing you could have returned that hug instead of being a haughty teenager. “Maybe I should start sending you to school with forget-me-nots” 

“Gee. You’re so funny Dad” feeling the sensation as teenage you rolls your eyes. 

Jumping forward, watching the day like it’s a movie being fast forwarded, until you’re told it’s your turn to sit in the simulator cockpit of the aptitude test. A giant machine that has monitors on the outside to see how others do. So far the max anyone has lasted from those being tested is two minutes. You're certain you’re going to flunk as badly as you did the written portion, have the questions having meant nothing to you. 

Teenage you has no idea why they’d be testing for reaction times in a fake flying simulation in a real simulator used for pilots. 

Adult you knows. All too well. 

Strapping in and watching the blurry man press a few buttons, and you remember his smile, a smile that makes a stone drop in your gut and a shiver run down your spine. It had left you feeling greasy. As the simulation begins, you’re told you just need to fly for as long as you can. As the screens change, the man with the creepy smile walks outside and closes the panel, something inside of you flares to life, hand on the center stick and engine controls. The world around you disappears and before you know it, you’ve gone far past the time any of your classmates have lasted. Time has no meaning. 

This isn’t part of the dream. 

You remember this. Remember the weight of the flight seatbelt, the headset of the simulator heavy on your small cranium. 

It was the first time you felt your heart soar, that feeling of complete control, that the world was at your fingertips. You were untouchable, sitting in that cockpit strapped in and flying through the skies. Simulation shifting to flying through sea stacks? A grin broke out across your face, jerking the controls hard enough to spin the view so you sideways. 

The noise of one of your classmates hurling while watching so distance it’s lost in the sound of roaring engines from the simulation. Another change in the simulation, flying through a narrow canyon, unaware the simulation is forcing the gravity of the chair you're strapped to to change. To make you feel the pull of the G Force as you take the turns at high speed. 

A voice in the background. “She’s almost at the end of the simulation.”

“Switch her to the second year pilot program. I want to see if this is just luck.” 

Your chest feels tight, pressure building and the obstacles are tighter, but your blood is pumping, and you start to laugh low in your chest. The exhilaration gives you a natural high and you do hear retching reach your ears as you make a far tighter turn. 

Gravity is getting harder to account for, but your fingers keep hitting controls making adjustments. A part of you seems to just know how much to cut an engine by to make tighter turns and re-engage them. 

“This will fuck her up.” Outside almost all the students are pushed aside as those performing the aptitude tests are watching. Something you had learned from another student later.

An engine stalls. Your body lurches in the capsule, stomach wanting to heave your lunch to the ground. A bellow from your lungs. You aren’t done yet. You don’t know how to restart the engine, but you’re still flying, body taking far more strain with only half the propulsion systems working. Before an obstacle arises you can’t avoid, pulling the stick back as far as you can trying to climb before smashing into the sheer cliff. 

Simulation over. 

Yet not because you crashed. Feeling the world careen as everything goes dark, pulled from the chair and emptying your stomach on the ground. Your father is there. Patting your back, why is he here? Gaze landing on the timer that you had watched for the other, even nauseous and sweating you’re grinning like a mad woman. 

One hour twenty four minutes forty three seconds. 

A voice screaming at those in charge of the simulation aptitude test breaking through the haze starting to take you. “What were you thinking? If even thinking? Max time allowed for any student ten minutes. Don’t care how well doing. Limits in place for reason!” 

The dream shifts. You’re surrounded by darkness, a voice you don’t know, but it sounds like the man from the aptitude test. 

“Listen I don’t care, she’s what they’re looking for! Tag her so in a few days we can find her, no one is going to miss some scrawny kid that even the adults of the colony are saying just had good luck.” 

You don’t remember anything like that happening, just blacking out to the sound of voices screaming before coming too. Maybe it’s because of what you know later, when you learned more about what had happened to your parents in your damning quest for revenge. 

Another shift, this time to you waking up in the colony infirmary, a strange man sitting across from you. Well he’s strange to you right now in this moment. Later in life you know him far better. You know him as the man who saved you from drowning in your quagmire of self hatred, who offered you redemption in a way you could see it, your savior. 

Sheppard. While the face isn’t quite as you remember, younger, the first meeting you’d forgotten about till you were hanging in chains in that prison cell after trying to die killing the council.

“Worried for moment. Teenagers not meant to be in simulation that long, damage to cerebral cortex possible, bone density, sense of equilibrium. Glad woke up.” The way he speaks has you reeling, unsure if this was from back then or the years you spent working with him. 

Before you can say anything the blurred form of your parents arriving, your mother pulling you against her in an embrace. “You had us worried sick!” Her fingers running through your hair, soothing away the fears that had gripped you as a teenager. Hearing her tone shift as her wraith was turned on who was a stranger to her. 

“How could you have let this happen?! She could have died. What kind of bullshit was that?!” All you do as you listen is rest your head against her chest, aware you should be able to hear her heartbeat but you can’t. Another reminder this a dream and you just want to wake up. You don’t want to relieve all of this, not when your life seems to be finally looking up.

“Overzealous monitor. Not shedding blame. Lucky she survived unharmed. Miraculous instincts though. High achieving student? Top of physics class?”

“I’m bad at physics” you mumbled the answer out against your mothers blurred form. 

“It’s her worst grade.” Your fathers garbled voice. 

“Interesting.” You never saw it in life but you can picture Sheppard tapping his finger against his lips. “Failure of academic system. Unaccounted hands on approach to problems. Academia requires proof of work, proof of understanding, simulation proof of inherent problem solving capabilities. Solved complex mathematical equations in head to adjust engine outputs to overcome obstacles.” 

“What are you talking about?” Your mother interrupting the random spewed thought process of the man. No doubt he had been lost in his ramblings while his brain worked out the problem and solution. 

“Answer simple. Daughter’s grades not reflective of ability.” The sound of shuffling “more interviews before departure. If later, want future in aeronautics, contact. Recommend for academy based on today.” You had no idea what any of that had meant as a teenager, later in life Sheppard had told you he regretted just having the final interviews after the events and leaving. Said he might have been able to have stopped what had happened. You remembered telling him neither of you could change the past. 

The dream shifts again, and you remember looking at your father, after what felt like hours and hours of interview. “How you feeling Kiwi?”

“Just wanna go home” you had been bone tired after that day, unaware of the future that a single test had put into motion. How in two days time your colony would be attacked, people killed, homes destroyed, others taken to be sold into slavery. And you. You would be trapped under the rubble of your home, on the verge of death before you were found.

Found broken, requiring years of surgery hearing whispers how you were just another failure and while you recovered you grew bitter with the world and if no one could provide you justice. Well you’d just find it yourself. 

You feel groggy, your mouth dry as you try to form some kind of noise, and the pain from pins and needles as you move ever so slightly telling you you’re awake for real this time.  Limbs feeling heavy as you slowly come back to awareness, the edge of your vision is blurry, possibly from the tears you couldn’t shed in your dream. Though all you can see is blackness. A blackness with wavy lines, wavy lines you realize are actually the threads of fabric held together, a warmth under your cheek. 

Breathing hard as you push yourself up on one arm, hand tingling, a sign you’ve been asleep for a while, the fuzz at the edge of your vision slowly fading thanks to your rapidly blinking as your eyes adjust. Swallowing thickly as every part of you is in pain, damn, how long have you been sick for? The last thing you remember is seeing Vash, and something is eating at the edge of your memory. Still torn from the dream of the past and the more recent days.

A needle. 

You’d seen a needle. 

Tilting your head, heart in your throat as your chest is burning, and that fear leaves you as suddenly as it came. The warmth that had been under your cheek was Vash, his thigh serving as a pillow, taking in the deep rise and fall of his chest, wrinkles in the fabric of his turtleneck. His head is lolled forward, the smallest hint of wetness at the corner of his pink lips, he’s been drooling. 

The hand not supporting your weight sliding along the floor, planning to reach out and gently shake your lover awake. Only for your hand to freeze, a tugging from the crook of your eyebrow. In the span of a few heartbeats, your eyes travel down from Vash’s face across his chest and look at your arm. 

A carefully inserted needle, held in place by a patch of thick tape with the clear tubing you know belongs to an IV leading away. The tightness in your chest starts to return, stomach churning as you feel ready to throw up. Your rational mind coming back, Vash is with you, he wouldn’t let someone just jab you with drugs or anything else, not unless you needed them. Taking deep breaths to try and calm your racing heart, you’re safe. Because Vash is here, a concept you would have found so foreign just a short time ago.

A thin line of light between Vash’s thighs grabs your attention, it looks like a tablet, just far sleeker than what you remember seeing from your adventures before Noman’s land. From the placement of his fingers, he must have been reading it before he fell asleep and it slipped from his grip as he drifted off. 

Your heart warming at the thought that he’s been keeping you company while whatever has been going on with your body. Just like after you passed out in the desert, even if it’s for entirely different reasons this time since you doubt you had a death grip on his hand. 

Careful of the IV you reach for the tablet, curious as to what Vash had been reading before dozing off into slumber. The device is cool to the touch, making you wonder if Vash has been asleep for a lot longer than you thought, all the other lights dim around the two of you. It surprises you a little just how light it is, or maybe it’s because outside of the sand steamers and plant engineers you haven’t seen many of them. Certainly not this close either. 

After a few moments of fiddling with the device, you figure out how to power it on, blinking as you're almost blinded by the brightness, and a low hiss leaving you from the pain throbbing inside your skull. 

Shaking your head you let your gaze travel back to the screen, only for your heart to feel as if it’s stopped beating inside of your chest. 

“No, no no no no” a sense of dread washing over you, every fiber of your being torn as a cold sweat breaks out that you know has nothing to do with whatever sickness you had been fighting. Were still fighting. Your heart is pounding away so hard within your chest that your ribs are shaking, fingers going numb as the device falls from your fingers with a clatter. 

You need to leave.

You need to leave right now. Clammy palm pushing your drenched body away from Vash realizing someone has draped sheets over both of your bodies, a sheet Vash must have shifted to cause it to fall. Toes catching on the smooth floor beneath your feet. 

Where the hell are your boots? Sitting back, largely freed from the sheet and missing the weight of Vash’s vibrant red coat as it slides to the floor. Finally taking in how you’re dressed. Grungy and covered in grime that comes from sweating all hours of the day caught in the vice of a sickness, and wearing your loose pajamas. 

The need to run, instincts screaming at you like a wild animal is making your heart still thunder, rational thought thrown to the wind. 

You can’t stay here, you can’t stay with Vash. Not now. Not ever again. He’s far too kind, far too wholesome and now he’ll have learned about the monster just under your skin that he thought he could love. 

Glancing around you finally notice more of the room. It’s a medical laboratory or something similar, heart rate beating fast enough you can feel the muscle hitting your ribs from the inside. He’s just here to keep you from running, to keep you docile. No one can care about a monster that kills for money. They just want to know what’s made you live so long, what’s allowed you to survive against the impossible. 

Humans aren’t meant to live this long, not without aging. 

Panting, hearing your breathing echo around the room and as numb as your fingers are you grab the tubing attached to your arm and pull. Watching the red as the needle is ripped from your skin, aware the wound will bleed, the tissue surrounding it starting to bruise already from the trauma you forced your own flesh to endure. 

Standing on shaky legs, you take a step. Then another. Seeing a familiar data chip sitting on a console next to your ruined locked cylinder, they just want to see for themselves how much you can survive. 

Heading for what you think is a door, watching as it opens into a brightly lit hallway, unaware of the mess you’re leaving behind. A trail of vivid red drops, painting a path of where you’ve been. Breaking into a run, pins running along your feet and legs from not being used. You ignore it. 

Fear.

Fear has you and your survival instincts are running the show that is your brain.

Back to Masterlist for the series

#vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #trigun #twink writes #Bullets Bandits Ghosts & Typhoons #tristamp

[riahlynn101]

Whumptober Day Twenty-Two: "Vehicular Accident."

Trigger Warnings: Blood, major character death, mentioned car accident (of sorts), children in distress, mentions of needles, and implied kidnapping and murder.

Summary: (Young) Mike is hit by a car.

Open/ambiguous ending :))!!

--

The sky is blue today. The same color blue as his mom’s eyes. Clear and bright. Not a single cloud in sight, which kind of annoys Mike. When Garrett was still here, they used to watch them go by, and call out what they looked like. 

Garrett’s go-to was always, “Fredbear.” No matter what the shape was. 

Not that Mike was any better. His go-to was “Springbonnie,” or “rabbit.” 

It was predictable, but it was fun. Mike misses it every single day. 

It’s cool today. It’s the middle of fall, and the leaves are all kinds of pretty colors. Reds and oranges and dark greens. 

It’ll be Halloween soon. 

This will be their first holiday without Garrett….

He wanted to be Spider-man this year. Mike’s sure it’s only because he wants to go as Spider-man, and Garrett just has to copy everything his older brother does. Mom says that just means he loves Mike, but it frustrated him to no end. Especially when it seemed like mom and dad encouraged it. 

Now…Mike would do anything to have him back. 

Anything. 

He groans, tears run down his face. 

“Mommy!” He wants to call out, but there’s something in his throat. Something warm and wet that tastes like old pennies. 

His head throbs, and his body feels strangely numb. Like all his limbs have fallen asleep all at once. 

People move around him. Mom tries to reach out for him, but a police officer holds her back. Dad holds her, as she sobs loudly. 

Mike hates that he’s the reason she’s crying. 

He tries to move his arm, so he can get her attention or call her over. He could really use one of her hugs. They’re warm and make him feel safe. Mike needs her.

“Mike…?” 

His head is shifted to the side by a person in a navy blue uniform. Another person flashes a light in his eyes. 

Just behind them, Mike sees his little brother. 

In spite of how scared he feels, Mike can’t help the wave of happiness that overtakes him. He tries to smile, but his lips don’t move. (Why can’t he move them?)

Garrett looks sad, staring down at him. “You’re hurt,” he says, pointing at Mike. 

Mike can’t summon the words to speak, but he wants so desperately to. He tries to wriggle around, but it doesn’t help. 

Garrett comes closer, kneeling down in between the two EMTs. He tilts his head. “If you go to sleep it won’t hurt anymore.”

All the alarm bells go off in Mike’s head. That’s the exact opposite of what the EMTs told him just five minutes earlier. And he has a feeling if he closes his eyes, he’ll never wake up again. 

“Nothing bad will happen,” Garrett murmurs. 

Mike coughs, chest constricting. The people hovering over him become more frantic. He’s lifted onto a stretcher.

He winces, or at least tries to. Just like everything else, his body doesn’t seem to want to listen. Tears run down his face, mixing with the blood smeared across his neck and chest. Garrett sits next to the EMTs. He watches them work, eyes sad. 

“Go to sleep, Mikey,” he whispers, voice like a lullaby. “You won’t hurt anymore if you sleep.”

Mike is poked with a needle and then another. He can’t tell if they’re IVs, tetanus shots, or if the EMTs are collecting blood, but he feels all of it. The needles poke through his bruised skin. But he can’t do anything about it, besides quietly groaning. 

His little brother frowns. “They’re making you hurt worse.”

Mike ignores him, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. He does his best to separate himself from the pain, trying to imagine that he’s home, watching TV dramas with his mom. They’ve been watching a new one, and there’s supposed to be a new episode tonight. He hopes he doesn’t miss it. Mom would be so upset if he did. 

Three months ago, it used to be something Mom, him, and Garrett used to do. Every Thursday night they would settle on the couch, Garrett on one side of their mom, and Mike on the other. A fresh bowl of popcorn on her lap.

Thursdays are the days that their dad works late, so mom lets them stay up extra late to see him. But they both end up falling asleep, heads resting in their mother’s lap. 

Mike inwardly sobs. 

Another poke. 

“It’ll hurt less if you close your eyes, and when you wake up, we can play together. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

He hates this. 

Hates how his brother sounds reassuring and right. 

Hates how he knows what’s going to happen if he shuts his eyes.

Hates that-despite how scared he is, and how much he wants his mommy and daddy-he wants even more to see and play with Garrett. 

Mike shuts his eyes. Just for a second.

But when he opens them again, he’s sitting next to Garrett. 

A machine off to their right beeps loudly, and the two EMTs look panicked. They shout out things that Mike-with all his years of watching late-night medical dramas-can’t understand. 

“That- that’s my body. Why?” He turns his head. “Garrett, what’s going on?”

His brother grabs his hand. “You’re asleep now.”

Mike shakes his head horrified. “No, this- I don’t like this. How do I wake up? I need to wake up.”

“You can’t.”

Garrett pats him on the shoulder. The world becomes blurry for a moment before returning to normal. 

They stand in a densely-wooded forest. 

Mike blinks rapidly, trying to wake up. Whatever this is, it can’t be real. He slaps himself in the face.

He feels….nothing. 

Mike digs his nails into his skin,  scratching at it. 

But again, he feels nothing. 

He feels panicked, terrified even, but his heart rate hasn’t picked up. In fact-Mike presses his hand over his heart-he can’t feel it thump against his ribcage. It’s quiet and still, like it’s not-

“I’m dead.”

Garrett grabs his hand. “But it’s okay, because I’m here.”

Pulling his hand away, Mike shakes his head frantically. “No! No! No!” He tugs at his hair.

His brother hugs him. It feels warm and safe and…and just like their mom’s. It feels like home. Mike hiccups, leaning into the hug. He closes his eyes, ignoring (for a moment) everything that has happened today. 

Being hit by a car. 

Glass shattering and people yelling.

Mom crying.

….Dying….

Mike tightens his hold. 

He’s safe. 

Of that, Mike is certain. 

Unseen, head resting on his older brother’s shoulder, Garrett smiles. 

#whumptober2023 #no.22 #vehicular accident #tw major character death #tw child death #tw blood #tw implied kidnapping #tw implied death #garrett schmidt #fnaf mike schmidt #mike and garrett #open ending #morally grey characters #ghost #cross posted on ao3

[notegodeath]

do you have any tips for boosting word count in a meaningful way? i feel kind of sad when i write a 3k that'd take a few weeks (if i'm lucky) then see someone's output on ao3 be more consistent and with more count to boot. qq

i think obviously the biggest piece of advice i should give is not to care. in an ideal world, it doesn’t matter if someone writes faster, or more words than you, everyone goes at their own pace, and does what they can, and yada yada etc etc. that doesn’t really work in practice, and i know it, so if you wanna write longer, and write faster i do have a few tips that can help. (and ofc all of these pertain to my style and my experiences, and someone else would prob have different opinions)

1 one of the best ways to bolster your word count, and one of the things i see most constantly overlooked in a lot of fics is a character’s thoughts. actions and dialogue are good for keeping the plot moving, they’re helpful, everybody loves them, but what really fascinates me is the why those actions and dialogues are happening. maybe it’s the theatre kid in me, but one of the things i always start with once i have a plot is character motivations, and how they feel, and react to everything happening internally as well as externally, and by working through those processes on paper it can both make your fics longer, and make your characters feel more three dimensional

2 on that same note, having an actual outline can really help too. a lot of the time, i just kinda wing it, i won’t lie, but even in my head there’s some sort of outline of what’s going on, and the times when ive transferred that to paper have been, in my opinion, some of my best works (and my longest, too). if you know what’s happening in a story before it happens, you can more purposefully control things like pacing, as well as include foreshadowing if you’d like, and it provides more room to think about why things are happening, rather than the fact that they just kind of are, and this depth of understanding allows you to better flesh out your works

3 this one is gonna seem really obvious in theory, but in practice it might not be, at least for me. one of the best things you can do is just read. read, and read some more, and, you guessed it, fucking read some more. read works of characters you like, to get ideas on how you want to portray them, read works on characters you don’t like, so you know what you don’t want to do, read works that have nothing at fucking all to do with what your writing because i guarantee you that you’ll find some kind of inspiration in them. also, read actual fucking books. don’t just read fanfiction, read real life, published books, by authors who do this for a living. that doesn’t mean you have to just read grimy classics that’ll make you fall asleep, there’s a lot of new books being published all the time and some of them are very good, but read something original, with substance, and that you’ll enjoy. my friends and i have a book club where we pick out a book each month, read it, and then we meet up and discuss it, this month we’re reading jurassic park, which obviously isn’t shakespeare, so just read something that isn’t fanfiction sometimes (and if you can, talk about it with someone)

4 this’ll be my last one i promise, but something i feel like mentioning is that it’s important to remember that everyone is different, be it in circumstance, motivation, free time, abilities, etc. not everyone can write like someone else, but guess what? that’s fine! chances are, that author that’s cranking out fics on ao3 either has a lot of free time, and that’s what they like to do with it, or that’s what they do to destress, and so they do it a lot. to this end, and this goes for all artistic pursuits, be it music, writing, visual arts, performance arts, etc, you don’t need to compare yourself to others. you want to, and it’s impossible not to, but at the end of the day you’re you, and they’re them, and you’re different people with different perspectives, abilities, and lives. it can be good to find motivation in other people’s works, i do that a lot, but letting it turn into a sort of negativity hinders more than it helps, i promise (also, they prob have more experience than you, whether you can see that experience or not, so just write more, it’ll come to you i promise)

#ego talks #writing tips

[manjiroscum]

la isla bonita

Character/s: All of Bonten

Warnings: f!reader, explicit sexual themes, mature language, smoking, unprotected sex, slight predator/prey play, slight dub-con, mentions of threesome, mentions of double vag, squirting, fingering, degradation, and beach sex. Minors do not interact.

Note: reposted this bc it wasn't showing up on tags :( anyway, lol hope you enjoy this chapter :) 💖

➴masterlist

Synopsis: The younger Haitani is either out to make amends or to infuriate you further.

✃WC: 5.5k

Spice level: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ out of 5

chapter iii | chapter v

CHAPTER IV - SEX ON THE BEACH

Birds of green and yellow flew off from the trees when a shrill cry of frustration broke into what was supposed to be a peaceful morning. Takeomi winced at your scream audible even from where he sat by the shore, smoking his third cigarette of the day. He wanted—needed to save up the remaining sticks he had; else he would turn crazy. Rather have black lungs than act like his younger brother. Yet, with every scream and Sanzu telling you to pipe down, the older man was tempted to just light up all his limp cigarettes and pollute his lungs and air to block out the stress-inducing noise coming from the wooden shelter.

Koko must’ve shared the same sentiment, walking out of there to seek peace and silence with hands pressed against his ears. The dark circles under his eyes are evidence of last night’s trouble falling asleep and adapting to such an environment. Never had trouble with growing out his hair, Koko wished he could cut it because boy was it fucking hot here. Used to the luxury of having a cool AC blowing in his office or in his fancy cars, the silver-haired treasurer was sweating bullets often. Catching Takeomi’s almost dead-like gaze, the silver-haired executive chuckled lightly.

“They just wouldn't shut up, huh?”

“What is it this time?” Pocketing the rest of his cigarettes, Takeomi raised a brow at Koko’s amusement and watched as he plopped down to the space beside him. The sand underneath his bum was warm, Koko smirked. It made the older Akashi laugh, bare feet pressing further into the sand and his hand scratching his stubble. “Don’t tell me… Ran jumped her? Or was it Kakucho this time? If it’s the latter, I’d be more fucking surprised.”

Koko shook his head, pointing his thumb at the wooden shelter with an exhausted sigh. It was way too early for shenanigans. “It’s Sanzu.” At the mention of his brother, the older Akashi stiffened. What happened this time? “Pointed a gun at her when she just woke up, threatened to shoot if she wouldn't shut up. I’d be fucking screaming too if I were in her place ‘cause that's just messed up”

Takeomi winced. Sure, Haruchiyo could be as eccentric as he wants to be—those who pointed it out or made fun of him don’t live to tell the tale anyway—but that was pushing it too far, especially to threaten their new secretary with a gun all because he was still suspicious of her despite it being ten days since the sinking of the yacht. Takeomi, even when he knows Bonten’s number two is rarely wrong in his inklings, did not share the same idea of the secretary having a part in the bombing. So, what was causing his brother to be quite hostile towards you?

“Yeah, very messed up.”

“Do you think he’s doin’ it out of boredom?” Koko muttered, scooping a handful of sand only to throw it towards the shore. Tiny grains fly into the air, either joining the rest or hitting the surface of the water. “He can’t be serious about tormenting her until she confesses if there is anything she has committed. Plus, Mikey has already said she’s innocent—no matter how fucking weird his method was, he did test her that night. Surely Sanzu wouldn’t go against what Mikey has declared.”

Before Takeomi could give his opinion on the matter, both of the men caught sight of you running out of the shelter. Fuming in annoyance at the rude greeting by Sanzu Haruchiyo and Haitani Ran immediately jumping into the scene, suggesting to quell your exasperation by having sex, you just about had enough. But you knew that this would happen. Haitani Ran was a man who loved to conquer and subdue—having had a taste of you, he wanted more. More to chew and spit out. You began to think the man was a well-oiled machine than a human, having the energy to go round after round despite how many hours he has railed or folded you in half during your secret rendezvous deep in the night either against a tree or in the falls. Indulging such a man was both a pleasure and a pain in the ass. And to think it has only been four days since that night when Mikey tested your loyalty. Oh, how could you forget that evening?

“F-fuck! She still keeps clenching around my cock. Gonna milk me dry, baby? Haven't got enough? Can’t believe this is the exact cunt that took both of us earlier. So fucking tight!”

Face sticky due to tears and Kakucho’s cum, you mewled into Ran’s shoulder that had teeth marks due to biting into the flesh from overstimulation. Tears of bliss ran down your cheeks as another sob was forced out of your lips at the stretch of your slick pussy that took two cocks moments ago. Kakucho, worried about you passing out, decided to stand by and stroke his leaking dick at the lewd scene of you and Ran. Slightly thrusting into his fist that he wished was your squeezing warm walls. His grunts and heavy panting unnoticed by you. Nor was the splashing of water every time Ran moved, trying to hit deeper each time. The sound of your heart pounding filled your ears.

“Play with her clit, Ran. Fucking hell, make her squirt.”

“Want her to squirt on your face, Kaku?”

The fear of your cunt tearing floated in your hazy mind for minutes now, yet often disappeared at every kiss of the cock’s tip on your cervix. Babbling your anxiety, Ran was always quick to hush and coo that it wouldn't. That you were taking him so fucking well. That there is no way a weeping hole would break.

“Such a good, good pussy. So eager to please—shit! Gonna fucking cum again!”

Never have you ever thought of achieving such a feat or even being fucked by two of your employers at once after Mikey.

Removing such images from your head was like scrubbing off wine stains on a white dress. Damn impossible. Yet, no matter how much you tried to deny it, it was a memory you wish you'd never forget even if you somehow had amnesia or Ran fucked your cunt to the point you found yourself dumb enough to remember your name.

At least Kakucho wasn’t like the older Haitani. No, Bonten’s number three was more subdued with his carnal instincts. Guarding your back or helping you with the chores, Kakucho liked to talk and seemed to have opened up more. He wasn't like Ran, who often disappears into thin air whenever you seek assistance from him. Lazing around or napping under a tree was like the Haitanis’ code, infuriating the others at times.

Kakucho was helpful, and a lot nicer. You found the stoic man to be hiding warmth under all the cold and hard exterior he has built over the years due to his difficult life. However, he did have his needs. And while he wasn’t like Ran who asked for your presence day and night, Kakucho was satisfied in having you once or twice. In secret or in your private quarters, Kakucho will have you. But such an occurrence always leaves you limping, retreating to your room to sleep away your exhaustion, or passing out because of the soreness of your muscles he often massaged afterward. Muttering soft apologies and placing kisses on your bare back.

“Where does it hurt, hmm?”

Groaning into the sheets, you buried your face further into the crook of his neck. Bones almost akin to jelly, you merely threw your arm around his waist in reply. Too tired to verbally respond, opting to sleep right away. Kakucho, on the other hand, stifled a laugh while reaching for your hip, applying pressure there.

“Do you want to go and wash up? I’m sure no one’s up at this hour. Could carry you there,” he whispered, mismatched eyes trained on your sleepy expression. Hearing your soft grunt in approval, Kakucho was quick to sit up, putting on his shorts and covering your bare form with the blankets. The evening sky greeted him and you, in his arms, accompanied by the numerous crickets singing in the tall grasses and the waves crashing against the shore. “We’ll be in and out before you know it.”

One thing they do share in common though was their bountiful energy that often left you wondering how they managed to have it in them to pound your cunt after a full day of either spearing fishes, climbing trees, or gathering wood.

Lamenting your aching back, you paused on your steps upon seeing Koko and Takeomi staring at you from where they sat. Putting on a small smile, you walked up to them. “Do you mind if I sit here, Sir?” you asked Takeomi, who shook his head and gestured to the empty spot next to him. A serene silence washed over the atmosphere, the saltwater kissing the shore quite calming.

“I’m sorry about Haruchiyo,” Takeomi whispered and sighed into the air, irises up in the sky. “I know that me apologizing wouldn't do much. That boy doesn't listen or take orders from anyone else anyway… But I do hope you won’t be scared off and quit.”

Chuckling at his words, you shook your head and shot him a reassuring smile. “Nothin’ to worry, Sir. I won’t quit anytime soon. Plus, I should probably get used to having a gun pointed at me. I’m serving Bonten after all… Violence is something I should be used to.” Lowering your head, you brought your legs close and placed your chin on top of your knees. Cheeks warm in embarrassment. “I’m sorry about my screaming earlier.”

Hearing those words from a sweet woman, Koko and Takeomi were sure their hearts felt heavier than ever at your statement. Because in no way should you be used to it. In fact, maybe if Senju were still alive, Takeomi was sure you’d be friends with her. Probably do what other women do in this day and age—not worrying about whether you’d get caught in the crossfire or have to adapt to such a dangerous line of work. A brilliant woman like you shouldn't even be working for Bonten. And yet, Takeomi would rather shoot himself in the head than drive you away. Proving yourself to be better than the other secretaries they have hired over the years. Especially one who could stand up to his brother when needed.

“Don’t worry about it. What you did is understandable.” Bonten’s advisor then smirked, meeting your gaze. “How about I make it up to you? Since my silly ass brother keeps bothering you, I bet you're super stressed out. Do you have any requests? I could take over your duty of gathering wood for today.”

Expecting you to agree or probably ask him to climb that tree of mangoes you saw the other day, the older Akashi was a bit speechless when you shook your head and pointed at his pocket. The one that contained his cigarettes.

“I’d rather have one of those please.”

Raising a brow, Takeomi was unsure whether you were bluffing or not. He didn’t know you smoked nor saw you. Hand unconsciously reaching down to touch his pocket, he laughed lightly. “You smoke? Or are you going to test it out? Just so you know, it’s bad for your lungs.” The pointed stare you gave him caused Takeomi to put on a solemn expression, gradually pulling out a stick and then, holding it in front of you. Hesitance obvious in his aura. “Don’t waste it. I’m saving these, you know. If you’re doing this out of fun, might as well don’t go through with it. Every stick counts right now.”

Taking the limp cigarette, you shot him a victorious grin. Giving you one of his sticks was definitely hard for the chain smoker, which you appreciated. Because for Takeomi, giving up his cars and money was far easier than quitting smoking.

“Thank you, Sir. I won’t waste it, I can assure you.” Placing the cigarette between your lips, you got up and started your path to the bonfire. Today’s breakfast wasn’t finished, the freshly caught fish on sticks made to be skewers laid across the banana leaf. Kakucho, tasked with the cooking, hasn’t come back yet, still searching for fruit. Squatting by the flame, you were unprepared for Takeomi sneaking up behind you and snatching the cigarette you successfully lit. Brows furrowed, you watched the advisor with narrowed eyes as he inhaled the nicotine. Cringing at the puff of smoke Takeomi blew in your direction.

Asshole. What was the point of agreeing when you’re just going to take it away?

“Sorry, sweetheart,” he mumbled, walking past you. A smirk on his lips that you were tempted to punch and hopefully have him swallowing the cancer stick whole. “Ask for anything else—just not my cigarettes.”

Are all Akashi’s like this?

“That was fucking mean,” Koko huffed, shaking his head disapprovingly at the older man’s actions. “Should've said no from the start.”

“What if she asked for that expensive ass shampoo you’ve been trying hard to hide, huh? Or those hair treatments? Surely you’d think twice. Wouldn't wanna wash your hair with toothpaste, yeah?” Takeomi secretly grinned when the other fell silent for seconds. Koko then stuck out his tongue at the man, crossing his arms on his chest.

“First off, those are mine. Second, it’s not like I’m hoarding it all to myself. I even gave Ran and Mikey some conditioner yesterday! And it’s not my fault toothpaste is what we have so much of right now.” Rolling his eyes at the retreating man, who figured it was time to head back into the shelter while the others were slowly coming out, Koko turned his attention to you. “Are you free later?”

“Yes, Sir,” you immediately answered, not curious as to what he wanted. Washing his hair has become something the two of you enjoyed when it was bath time. That and he’d bribe you with those hair treatments Takeomi was talking about. Days being on the island, the harsh sun beaming down on you during midday was making your hair dry. “The usual?”

“Yeah, let’s just make sure Takeomi isn’t around to poke fun at us.”

Now combing through silver strands of now silky smooth hair, shielding yourselves from the sun’s rays underneath palm trees, Bonten’s advisor was nowhere in sight. This pleased Koko, stifling soft groans of happiness whenever you massaged his scalp. Half of his torso was underwater, enjoying the cool temperature.

“Ah, this is the life indeed.” Koko gleefully splashed water into the air. “Imagine if that yacht never exploded. We’d be sipping margaritas by the balcony by now. Wouldn’t have to worry about bugs and sunburn. The perfect paradise!”

Expecting no interruptions, you found yourself glancing behind you to see who was approaching. The sound of grass rustling didn’t escape you despite the noise of running water and the next thing you knew, Ran stood behind you.

“Baby, got orders from the boss.”

“Can’t you see we’re busy?” Koko grumbled, glancing at the older Haitani briefly in irritation which Ran shrugged at. Washing off the lather from your hands, you spun to face the man whose violet irises were filled with mirth. No longer feeling your fingers on his scalp or threading through his hair, the silver-haired executive was mumbling under his breath as he approached the falls.

“As far as I know, I got no tasks for the day except to gather wood and to make dinner.” Standing straight, you wiped your damp hands with a towel. Hearing no response, you slightly glared at him. “This better not be another excuse to get me alone, Haitani. I know you’re supposed to be helping Sanzu around. Lazing about will get you in trouble.”

“I know that, sweetheart. Don’t be so cold. Is this how you treat your lovers?” Ran’s eyes resembled a puppy kicked to the curb, making it difficult for you to decide whether to slap his arm or shoo him away. “Besides, I’m not being lazy. I’m actually here on business, ‘ya know?” Clearing his throat, he added. “It’s Mikey. He wants you to go gather wood now.”

“Now?” you echoed, unsure at the notion. “But it’s super hot. And Kakucho is still napping.”

“I don’t know why he’s in a hurry either.” Scratching his neck, Ran hissed at the mosquito buzzing near him. “You know the rules, yeah? Whatever he says, goes. And since your bodyguard is fast asleep, why don’t you take someone else?” Eyes widening for a fraction, Ran then smiled, the person perfect for the job popping into his head. “I know, why don’t you take Rindou? I’m sure he’s free.”

At the thought of hanging out with the younger Haitani, whom you haven’t exactly forgiven for outing you and Kakucho, you bit your inner cheek in contemplation. Rindou Haitani was certainly an individual you did not want to displease or make enemies with. But what he did during that truth or dare game was such a hassle. He hasn’t even asked for forgiveness and you don’t expect him to. Because like the rest of the men here, save for Kakucho and maybe Koko, their pride was as prominent as their hanafuda tattoos.

Yet, what could a secretary do? Certainly, you couldn’t refuse your boss’ orders or go gather wood on your own. What kind of creatures could be waiting to strike in the thick bushes? You still want to live another day and make it out of this island.

But does it have to be Rindou fucking Haitani?

Swallowing all your apprehensions, you found yourself strolling through the thick shrubbery. Rindou, bored, was trailing behind you. Hands tucked in the pockets of his board shorts. Awkward, it was fucking awkward, indeed. Normally, a conversation would’ve been struck up to fill the silence. Rindou did not care, preferring the tranquility and the grass crushing underneath his feet. Anxious at what may happen or what he could say, your lips were sealed most of the time. It wasn’t until you both arrived at a clearing that you spoke, pointing at the far right side.

“I’ll start from there.”

“Alright,” he mumbled, going in the other direction. Irises lingering at his back, you slowly turned your back to him and started to work. Fighting a yawn, you began gathering sticks that weren’t damp or too thin. Minutes passed, you weren’t able to collect much that could be deemed sufficient. Venturing further out, you bent down to collect more thick sticks, never looking up to watch where you were going until you lost your footing. Raging water below, the cliff was unknown to you. The abrupt revelation had you gasping, close to screaming despite no voice could escape, hand dropping the sticks you accumulated and reaching for anything—anything you could grab on to balance yourself. And that happened to be Rindou’s hand, who quickly rushed to your aid.

“Fuck!” he cursed, holding you steady before pulling you up. Feet finally kissing the ground, your throat that was constricted due to fear relaxed. Lungs burning while inhaling deep breaths to calm yourself down, you steadily sunk to the floor. Fingernails digging into your thighs. Rindou huffed, adrenaline in his veins, brows creased. “You should be fucking careful! Got too much to think that you didn’t notice that edge?”

Closing your eyes shut, you whispered with cheeks burning in shame rather than the horrible situation you were thrust into earlier, spiking your stress levels. “I-I’m sorry,” you muttered, tears pricking your vision. How could you be so careless? Didn’t you want to survive? Making such a mistake… How embarrassing. “I-I wasn’t… I’m sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again.” Bowing your head, you repeated your apologies.

“Rindou is fine,” he exhaled deeply, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to collect his frayed nerves. “And stop apologizing, just watch where you’re going next time. Fuck, I swear I was gonna get a heart attack.”

“Don’t say that.” Standing up, you averted from his questioning gaze. Dwelling on the future where he wasn’t able to catch you was pointless and just induced anxiety into your thumping heart. Rubbing your arm, you mumbled. “Ran won’t like that—no one will. We agreed to leave this island all alive.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your statement. “It’s just an expression, doll. There’s no way I’ll die here.” Purple irises that were mesmerizing to the point it was vexing to the soul remained on your face, analyzing your features that were now morphed from shock to confusion. Unable to take his inquisitive staring, you turned to the other side. This made the younger Haitani squint. “You’ve been ignoring me, [Y/N]. What’s the reason?”

“Ignoring you? What do you mean?” He could see through your bluff, especially the fake laughter and tight smile. “I’m not ignoring you. What the hell do you mean—”

“You’re not even lookin’ at me.”

“Why do I have to—okay, fuck, fine. Yes! I’ve been avoiding you, happy now?” Hiding your face into your palms, you groaned. “This is so fucking embarrassing. What’s the purpose of confessing?”

Rindou shrugged.

“I don’t know. At least my suspicions made sense now.” Coughing, the executive cleared his throat. “Ran was right. That bastard is always right somehow that it’s fucking scary. He even said I should apologize… for hurting your feelings and, uh, Kakucho’s.”

“You don’t have to.” Picking up the fallen sticks, you pay no heed to the exasperated exhales from Rindou. “Look, I don’t know what Ran told you, but if you don’t want to… you don’t have to apologize to me or to Kakucho.”

What was the use for apologies when they weren’t even genuine?

“But, I… fuck, I felt bad, okay? This isn’t easy for me, doll. You know that.” Asking for forgiveness was rare for Rindou Haitani. Living in a life where he and his older brother do was take, take, take—remorse was hardly in their systems. And when it was, they could hardly do anything to make it all right again. But whenever Rindou could, he was sure to try. He’ll certainly will. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

First, Takeomi and now Rindou? If Sanzu were to ask for forgiveness next, maybe it is safe to say the world is coming to an ending!

“No, really… it’s fine.”

“Don’t be like that. Tell me.”

“It’s really alright, Sir—”

“Rindou.”

“Si—R-Rindou, it’s okay. You don’t have to force yourself.”

“Fine,” Rindou groaned, close to pulling his hair in frustration. Because how was he supposed to make things right when you refuse to let him? Ran didn’t prepare him for this, figuring you wouldn’t deny his efforts in making amends. Seeing that you were still picking up sticks as a front to hide your face from him, Rindou sighed. Turning back to the cliff, the younger Haitani scrutinized the depth of the water, seeing it wasn’t as shallow as he initially thought it would be. He then spotted a beach a few feet located to the right, so close he could swim to it easily without tiring. The sand is a lighter color than the beach where the shelter is, the waters bluer and clearer, giving it an aesthetic appeal. He just hopes this stunt would be worth it. “Maybe if I jump from this height, you’ll perhaps listen to me.”

“Wait, what?” The second you spun to look at him, it was the exact second Rindou jumped from the edge. Heart stopping, you hurriedly tried to extend a hand to catch him, only for your hand to be met with air. A scream of fright slipped past your lips at Rindou’s body colliding with the water, sinking into its depths, and disappearing from your view. Bubbles surface but not Rindou Haitani, causing the alarm bells in your head to ring nonstop.

What a fucking idiot! Why the hell would he do that?!

Abandoning the sticks, your first act was to stop panicking and look for a way to swim to where he is. Hoping he isn’t drowning or in an immobile state. Rushing past overgrown grass and creepy bugs, you went to the nearby beach and began swimming to where Rindou dropped.

Please, please, please be okay! Oh god, what if he hit his head? What will I tell Ran? Fuck!

“Rindou? Rindou, please answer me!” you screamed, wading closer to the cliff and searching for any sign the younger Haitani survived. At this point, perhaps swallowing saltwater was better than telling the rest that Rindou died because he was stupid to jump from a cliff. “Shit. Don’t play with me, Haitani! Come out now! I’ll forgive you if you do. Just, fuck, please be safe.”

“Are you for real?”

Spinning to see Rindou next to you, hair sticking to his flesh and lips stretched in a cheeky grin, you wished he wasn’t your boss so you could punch him in the nose. Relief flooded your veins, biting back a sob, you splashed him instead. “You fucking stupid? Why the hell would you do that?!” Hearing him laugh at your distress was sure to have your anger rising through the roof, but giggles bubbled up to your throat steadily when Rindou pulled seaweed that stuck to your head. It had you both filled with laughter.

Pulling you close, Rindou patted your head. “Sorry if I scared you, [Y/N]. What you said earlier, though… Is it true? Will you really forgive me?” Scratch his chin with his index finger, his purple irises lowered to the crystal waters cooling both of your skins. “I know what I did last time wasn’t great. You might think Ran is urging me to apologize, but I’d be crazy enough to take it this far… I just really want to say… I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”

Upon seeing you smile, Rindou was sure he had it this time. Happy that you were going to accept his apology. Maybe he’ll gloat to Ran afterward how he managed to jump from a cliff to you forgiving him. However, you ruined his dreams by splashing him with more water and sticking out your tongue at him.

“I’ll forgive your ass if you catch me.”

“And what if I catch you, doll? What then?”

Shooting him a challenging stare, you smirked.

“You get to do anything, Haitani. Anything.”

“You’re on! Better not eat your words.” The younger Haitani began chasing after your swimming form, the adrenaline moments ago returning. “Start praying I don’t catch your ass ‘cause I won’t let you go unpunished.”

Reaching the shore, your squeals for him to let you go free and Rindou commanding you to stay put colored the atmosphere. Running across the sand, you stumbled and fell multiple times to dodge his grabbing hands. Words of profanity were exchanged. Ending up wrestling playfully on the sand, you were about to grab a handful of the granular substance and shove it to his face when Rindou’s lips met yours in the heat of the moment. And it was the absolute perfect distraction, causing you to fall limp. Rindou moved almost at the speed of light, ripping your shirt and bra off, earning a tiny shriek from you. Breasts now visible, his pupils darkened in hunger. His mouth was instantly wrapped around your left nipple, sucking the nub while his hand roughly squeezed your other tit.

“N-no…” Whining into the air, you keened at the touch of Rindou’s huge palms roaming every inch of your skin, leaving no corner or nook untouched. His lips still sucking on your left tit. Gasping for breath, you tried to push him away, refusing to be forced into submission easily, but the younger Haitani refused to let you go. He was bent on having you dumb. Drool started to slide down the corner of your lips, mind muddled akin to mush at the slight stinging pain of his teeth mixing into the play. “Shit, no! Rindou, it’s painful—ah!”

Lowly chuckling at your attempts of resistance, Rindou shook his head. Grinding his hips and his hard erection against your clothed pussy, the purple-haired executive groaned. The waves crashing to the shore were meeting his back and legs, the cold saltwater useless in cooling his hard-on. “Didn’t I say you might eat your own words? You fucking like that, don’t you, slut? Such a fucking whore taking Mikey and Kakucho’s cocks. Even Ran’s. Let me see if this pussy is as good as my older brother said, yeah?”

“Fuck you, Rindou.” Whine morphing into a moan, you were about to push yourself off the ground. But of course, Rindou had you pinned hard. Anyone who could see you both now would assume the worst. The difference was that your pussy is drenched in arousal, weeping to have a cock inside and split the walls, specifically Rindou’s. And like a predator impatient to swallow its prey, Rindou pulled his shorts down, the angry tip of his cock was leaking with precum when it slapped against his stomach. Doing the same to your shorts and underwear, Rindou licked his lips at the vision of your bare pussy. Throwing the wet garments somewhere above you two.

“Shit, it is even prettier up close.”

Swallowing a squeak, your nails dug into his forearms at the sudden intrusion of his dick. The sting was momentarily but holy fuck, he is huge. It would’ve surely hurt a lot if you weren’t aroused. You swore you almost saw stars and the moon orbiting when he started to speed up, railing you against the sand. The feeling of his veins and his cock throbbing had you mewling.

“Fuck, how is this cunt still so tight?” he groaned, rutting his hips into yours. The sound of skin slapping against skin was obscenely loud to be heard above the waves meeting the shore that it had you biting back a sob. Rindou’s thick and veiny cock stretched your gummy walls deliciously, the fat red tip hitting your cervix with every thrust. You choke back a whimper. “Shit, this pussy is ‘s good, I’m gonna cum… Gonna fucking cum, so good, babydoll. Let me cum in this pussy.”

“No… D-don’t cum inside—fuck!” you hissed, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Unprepared you were when Rindou flipped you over, having you straddle him instead. Crying at the loss of friction and pleasure, you started bouncing on his cock. Tits jiggling in his face. “F-fuck, so big.” The pornographic scene playing out in front of Rindou had him grunting, holding you by the hip and meeting you halfway, the corners of his lips curled up.

“You sure ‘ya don’t want me to cum in this pussy? Breed you like the whore you are?”

“N-no.” Hand over your stomach, you could feel the tip of his cock there. He was just so fucking big to the point you could almost taste him on the back of your throat. Hands gripping his shoulder, your hips slowly became lethargic. “N-no cumming inside. Can’t get pregnant—don’t wanna. Ah!”

“Fuck. Cum, baby. Squeeze me dry.” Rindou winced at your walls clamping down on him. Everything he did, all his willpower exhausted not to cum and shoot his semen into your womb. Quivering, you went limp on top of him, slightly grinding on his pelvis while he kept you from falling. The younger Haitani used this opportunity to slip out of your cunt, rubbing his shaft and shooting his load at your chest and stomach. The milky substance painting your soft flesh and tits. He wished the sight didn’t get his cock to go rock hard again. Moments after your high, you blinked at your surroundings. Collecting your thoughts and wishing the throbbing of your clit would subside, you could’ve blamed your vision for playing tricks on you due to the euphoric state you were coming down from. Could be a figment of your imagination.

And yet, you were sure someone was standing by the trees, observing you both before running off.

“Rindou?”

“Mhm?”

“D-did you see that?” Feeling your grip on his shoulder tightened, eyes straining to see the shadow that caught your eye beyond the vegetation and whatnot, Rindou followed your line of sight. However, no matter how much he tried to figure out what had you tensing, the younger Haitani couldn’t see… whatever it was. “Did you? I think someone was watching us.”

Sighing, Rindou laid back on the sand once more, wiping the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s probably Sanzu. That sick bastard must be so bored that he’s roving around the island again.” Noticing that you haven’t removed your gaze from the area, Rindou reached up to rub the back of your waist in hopes it would take your mind off of what you’ve seen. But of course, it doesn’t. “Just don’t mind him, doll. Look, I’ll make sure to talk to him, okay? Relax…”

Y-yeah, relax…

🎐taglist: @wakaslut @ranilingus @blueparadis @rizakari @cryptred @festive @iz-ana @emissaire @toobsessedsstuff @s-shinichirosgf @amerillyss @icecreamranwich @s-ugei @omi-replies @nameless-shrimp @sanzuchi @the-et-haggis @leavemealonebutinpink @zuuki @keijisprettygirl @this-harl0t-shant-be-unalive @reapersimps

#pat.series🖋️ #pat.✍️fics #tr smut #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev smut #tokyo rev x reader #ran smut #kakucho smut #rindou x reader #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou smut #bonten x reader #tw.unprotected sex #tw.degradation #tw.smoking

[thrndlngs]

three times shinsou misses the opportunity to kiss you + the one time he seized the moment.

── pairing, shinsou x fem!prohero!reader ── request: x times shinsou wants to kiss fem reader??? pLZ I NEED IT ── author’s note: this was super dope & cute to write. tysm for sending this in. i hope i did this justice and it wasn’t to out of character.  also reader has a water quirk & the two of you are in your early twenties.  ♡ 

i.

     "'toshi,” you whispered, chest against his as the two of you currently hid from the group of villains. your two agencies had partnered up in attempt to take down a new gang of villains who were transporting drugs from the city to the waters, the two of you were partnered because of how the two of you excelled in your respective agencies, shinsou was sent to aid in your patrols of the waters  ──  which is why the two of you are currently hiding in a storage closet on a ship. 

  “shut up.” you don’t take it to heart, you’re sure he means it as nicely as possible - he just lacks a few pages in the ‘vocabulary’ department. 

  “we need to do something.” you tell him, trying your best to meet his gaze in the tight space (which was nearly impossible because he’s towering over you at the moment). he doesn’t reply, not at first at least, if you looked hard enough you would probably see the gears in his head turning. 

  “──stop talking, it’s distracting me.” 

  your mouth quickly shuts, fidgety hands are now at your side, you were starting to get antsy and there was practically little to no room to move around without being heard - or seen for that matter. 

  “they switch the guards every ten minutes, in the middle of the switch, we run.” the purple haired male explained, taking a peak at the time on his cellphone. the two of you had to endure this for three more minutes. just three more minutes and you would be free.

  “three minutes,” you repeated, more to confirm this for yourself. you’re sure you wouldn’t last that long, after all, this was shinsou, the male you’ve had a crush on for quite some time now. how were you expected to last that long?

  “──think of it like seven minutes of heaven.”

  “we haven’t played that since── “

  “yeah, yeah i know, but just think of it like that. don’t think about the closet, just the game.” 

  you nodded quickly, meeting his gaze as the two of you stood there in silence. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about kissing him. it seemed like the perfect moment - it was just the two of you. if it were the last day on earth, you at least wanted to go out with a bang. you know?

  “let me get comfortable, you can do the same after.” you watched as he places either hands besides your head, slouching a bit against the wall so his back could have some sort of support. he nods to you, signaling for you to do the same. 

  it takes you a moment, the position shinsou is currently in causes your heart to skip just a few beats. were you disappointed in yourself for letting your mind drift.. elsewhere during a mission? for sure. did you care right now? absolutely not.

  you cleared your throat, widening your stance and trying to balance the weight in between your legs to help ease some of the weight  ──  but there wasn’t really much you could do.

  “two minutes.” 

   this had to be the longest three minutes of your life.

   “i think i just tasted my own sweat.” he complained. it feels like he’s sweating in places he shouldn’t produce sweat in.

  “i feel like a fish out of water,” you added.

  “──gonna start passing out if i don’t throw you in the water soon?”

  “says the one whose sweating to death.” 

  “and you’re dehydrated. guess we’re both shit out of luck aren’t we?”

  “yeah, but, i think this isn’t the worst way to die.” 

  he takes another peak at his cellphone, noting that there’s a minute left before the two of you could finally get out of this damn storage closet. “you’ve got a minute to tell me anything worse than dying like this.” 

  in hindsight ── there’s a lot that could happen in a minute, that’s the only reason you said something to begin with. “alone, i could die in this closet, alone and then you know, it would be lonely.” 

 “are you serious?” 

  “oh come on! that’s pretty serious!”

  “it ── it really isn’t,” he’s trying to laugh as quietly as possible and you playfully slapped him in his shoulder. 

 “okay, well, i wouldn’t want to die alone.”

  “mhm, scaredy cat.” his smile is infectious and for a moment, he forgets that the two of you are stuck in a storage closet. maybe now would be the perfect time to kiss you, when it’s just the two of you, waiting to make your grand escape, when the two of your are just centimeters apart. 

  “now’s our chance,” he whispered, straightening himself to get out first just in case. he doesn’t want to act off of impulses. if he kisses you, he wants to make sure it’s because you want him too.

ii.

     “good to see you when you’re not acting like a goldfish who just hopped out of it’s bowl.” the familiar voice teased from behind you, hands folded behind his head. if it were anyone else, you might have tripped them.

  “──don’t you have to go buy hair dye now or something?”

  “no that was after i made sure a fisherman didn’t take you on the way home.”

  “is this what do you do on your spare time? think of jokes that revolve around my quirk?”  

  he rolls his shoulder lazily, leaning against the apartment railing across from your front door. “they come naturally, no extra thinking required.”

  “and here i thought all the hair dye went to your brain.”

   this wasn’t out of the norm for the two of you, he would make the first jab and then you would follow suit. sometimes, the bickering could go on for hours  ──  regardless of task at hand (like the time the two of you were trying to detain a villain and shinsou had told the woman you were a water sprite), it’s an old nickname of yours, he had given it to you back at the sports festival when you were kids. you had earned it when you had almost drown mineta because he wouldn’t stop making inappropriate jokes and you had brought the entire water fountain down on him. 

  as the two of you stood there in silence, you, had your back against your door, hands folded behind you while he stood parallel, arms against his chest he wonders: is this the time he kisses you goodnight? 

  “d’ya want to come inside? i have leftovers? we could pull an all nighter like we used to do back in the dorms?” there’s a hint of hopefulness in your eyes and he would feel like absolute shit if he declined the offer.

  “only because you have food.” 

  he doesn’t kiss you goodnight then. and he doesn’t kiss you goodnight when you fall asleep on his shoulder after the second horror movie either. if you were anyone else, he would’ve left without a care in the world, but it’s you and you are different. 

  so he stays and tells himself that tomorrow will be a new day and tomorrow, he can try again.

iii.

     “i don’t dance,” shinsou tells you as you so desperately tried to bring him onto the dance floor. it’s a hero’s gala, everyone from your respective classes at U.A. were here, pro heroes from all around the world and some of your old instructors as well  ──  these aren’t his thing, you know that. you remember his attitude during the first two hours of the third year’s ‘goodbye party’ - not much had changed. he’s taller, a bit more handsomer and smiles more often. 

  “you do tonight, come on.” while you had dragged him by one hand, the other desperately tried to loosen his tie because it feels like he’s suffocating. 

  “──you’ll be the death of me woman.” he’s mumbling under his breath, one hand resting in yours as the other found its place at your waist.

  “because i asked you to dance? might i say this is on your list of horrible ways to die?” you teased, offering him that infectious smile that makes him go weak in his knees. he hates to admit the pull you have on him  ──  he might even go as far as saying you might have him wrapped around that finger of yours and you don’t even know it yet.

  “if it’s by your hands i would say it’s a merciful death.”

  “a merciful death? i’ll keep that in mind.” 

  “don’t test your luck,” you know he’s only messing with you  ──  

  you’re to busy enjoying the moment to think of some witty comeback. it’s something about the way your hand seems to fit perfectly in his. or how the two of you are able to move in sync without any words spoken in between the two of you that’s driving you insane.

  if you would’ve told your past self that you would be slow dancing with the hitoshi shinsou at a hero’s gala while the world around you disappeared you would’ve laughed at the idea. it would’ve seem silly to you  ──  stupid even. shinsou and you weren’t rivals like you and bakugou were, but, you had always found yourself trying to one up him. 

  yet here you were, swaying to the slow tune as you managed to snake your arms around his midsection and rest a head against his chest. maybe this was his chance: with the little distance in between the two of you, dim lighting and dressed to the nines. surely, this would be a good memory to relive later down the road wouldn’t it? 

  but he wanted to savor the moment. so he decides it against it  ── despite the ache in his chest.

  iv.

     "we did it.” shinsou muses, an awkward hand offered in your direction for you to shake. it’s been six months but your agencies had finally shut down the smuggling operation and you could finally take the break you had so desperately needed. you weren’t sure what to do with the outstretched hand, but, you give in anyways, resting your hand in his as he gave it a firm shake.

  “pleasure doing business with you.” you tell him, lips curving into a bittersweet smile. teasing, bickering and ‘playful’ sparring aside, you were going to miss him. you were used to patrolling and doing missions on your own but this was different. 

  “try not to end up on the other side of fishing hook, yeah?” it’s his way of telling you to be careful in shinsou’s teasing nature.

  “make sure i’m the one to grant you the merciful death.” please be careful, is what you want to say. though you couldn’t bring yourself to say it aloud - if you did, it would only confirm that you care about the purple haired pro hero more than you should. 

  he shakes his head with a laugh, “you’re the only one who gets the satisfaction.” 

  “it better stay that way ‘toshi.” 

  he doesn’t know for certain if your agencies would cross paths again. your agency was closer to the waters and he was closer in the city, the chance that you would run into one another again would be slim to none. 

 he clears his throat for a moment, retreating his hand from yours and placing them at your waist instead. he’s pictured this a thousand times but now that he’s in the moment he couldn’t manage to find the right words. it’s frustrating, really.

  “──hi.” you’re holding your breath in anticipation, was this another one of his games? was he going to kiss you? tell you a secret? use his capture weapon and tell you that he’s not letting you go until you admit something embarrassing?

  he doesn’t care anymore. doesn’t care if it makes him look like a love sick idiot when he kisses you like it’s the last thing he’s about to do before he dies, he doesn’t care if anyone’s watching or for the wrinkles you’ll cause since you’ve got a fistful of his shirt in a desperate attempt to close whatever little distance the two of you had between you. 

  you pull away first causing him to pout (which was actually cute but you’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing that) but you do laugh.

  “you know,” he muses, a hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck sheepishly, a habit you hadn’t seen in years. “──i didn’t want to let you walk away without something to remember, my little water sprite.” 

  you rolled your eyes at the choice of nickname but were flattered nonetheless, your own arms finding their way around his neck, “who said i was walking away?”

#shinsou fluff #shinsou x reader #shinsou x you #shinsou x y/n #bnha imagine #bnha drabble #mha drabble #mha imagine #shinsou tbt. #( this is so lame bc i wrote this at 1:43 am while at work JHADKJHDA ) #╰ ♡ ✧ ˖ 𝐉𝐀𝐘𝐄 ┊ WRITINGS .

[disneymiraculousefandomsblog]

Hey everyone! So i have been really wanting to write a one shot of Tadashi and Hiro having a bonding moment since we didn’t get to see much of it in the movie or series.

So i decided to write about the time Tadashi taught Hiro how to ride his first bike, just like the first scene we say in the Series. Hiro is 7 and still in school in this timeline, plus I think it would be a super wholesome scene that we really needed to see in the show, but I’ll let you all decide.

This my first time I’ve ever written a BH6 Fic so I apologize if the characters are “out of character”. Ive never written Baymax or Hiro so i do apologize if its not exactly how their characters are in the show. anyway Enjoy!

Bike Day

It was a beautiful day in San Fransocyo, Tadashi was happy that it was the weekend. He had been working hard on a special project at school, that he missed spending time with his little Brother Hiro.

“Hey Little Bro! Time to get up sleepy head.” Tadashi said waking up his little brother.

“Tadashi, it’s Saturday and it’s 7:00am, we sleep in remember.” Hiro moaned sleepingly.

“Come on, we can’t get anything done if your asleep. Plus Aunt Cass and I have a surprise for you, but we can’t give it to you if your asleep.” Tadashi said turning around to leave gazing back at Hiro.

“Wait you said a surprise!” Hiro said excited shooting up from his bed.

“Yeah, but your not ready. So i guess I’ll just have to return it, what a shame.” Tadashi said giving a sad pout.

“No, No, I’m up!” Hiro said putting his shoes on.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Hiro said walking towards his brother.

“Alright, Aunt Cass said we have to eat Breakfast first.” Tadashi said ruffling his hair.

Hiro let’s out a small laugh “Okay, but can i get my surprise after?” Hiro asked fixing his hair.

“Yes, but you know Aunt Cass requires us to eat breakfast before we start the day heh.” Tadashi said with a chuckle.

“Okay.” Hiro answered walking down the stairs.

Tadashi and Hiro walked to the dinning room of the cafe and saw Aunt Cass cooking.

“Good Morning Aunt Cass!” Hiro and Tadashi said in unison.

“Good Morning Boys!” Aunt Cass said giving them a big hug.

“Take a seat, Breakfast is ready.” Aunt Cass said putting the Pancakes, Eggs, and bacon on the plates and putting it on the table.

“Thanks Aunt Cass.” Hiro said his Aunt.

“Yes thanks Aunt Cass, It’s delicious.” Tadashi complimented.

“Aww thank you! You two are so sweet!” Cass said with a thankful smile.

“Ohh did you tell Hiro about his surprise yet?” Cass asked Tadashi.

“Not yet Aunt Cass” Tadashi answered.

“Ooh I’m so Excited! Hiro i know you’ll love it!” Aunt Cass said picking up a few plates.

Hiro began to think what this special surprise was as he continued to eat his breakfast “I wonder what it could be, it could have been anything. A new video game, or some cool machine his brother invented just for him, or it could even be something I’ve been wanting for a long time, a bike.” Hiro thought to himself.

After a few moments Hiro began to eat a bit faster, Tadashi began to notice Hiro eating faster than he usually did.

“Whoa Hiro slow down, you keep eating like that and your going to get a stomach ache.” Tadashi said finishing his breakfast.

“I just really want to know what my surprise is?” Hiro answered finishing the last bit of food on his plate. Tadashi let out a small chuckle as he saw his brother finish his breakfast. He began to pick up his plate when he heard Hiro “I’m done! Can i go see my surprise now?!” Hiro asked excitedly.

Hiro noticed his excitement and composed himself, “I mean, I’d like to see my surprise now if i can? Not that I’m super excited or anything” Hiro said with a grunt.

Tadashi let out a small chuckle as his brother tried to act cool “Alright Hiro, but pick up your plate and put it in the sink.” Tadashi said putting his plate in the sink.

Hiro nodded and picked up his plate, he made his way to the sink but was to short to reach it. “A-almost g-got i-it..” Hiro grunted trying to reach the sink by stepping on his tippy toes.

“Here let me help” Tadashi said picking up his brother and putting him on his shoulders.

Hiro let out a small laugh as his brother picked him up and put him on his shoulders. He gently put the plate in the sink, “Thanks Tadashi” Hiro said.

“No problem bro, now you ready to see your surprise?” Tadashi asked holding onto his brothers legs making sure he doesn’t fall.

“Yes!” Hiro said excitedly.

“Alright lets go!” Tadashi said as he began to bounce up and down and moving side to side making airplane sounds as he took Hiro outside.

Hiro laughed and wrapped his arms around his brothers neck making sure he didn’t fall as his brother took him outside. Aunt Cass smiled as she saw her two nephews having fun, she knew it was hard for them to adjust to this new life when their parents died. Aunt Cass grabbed her camera and began to follow the boys outside when she passed the hallway and stopped in her tracks and turned to the side of the wall to see a picture of her sister and her nephews together. “If only you could see how much they have grown, you would be so proud of them. Especially Tadashi, he’s always there looking out for Hiro.” Cass said with a sigh gazing at the portrait. Aunt Cass turned back looking forward and saw Tadashi and Hiro opening the door, she looked back at the portrait once more and smiled as she began to walk to the door.

Hiro and Tadashi made it outside “Alright little bro, you ready?” Tadashi asked as he gently put his brother down.

“Yes!” Hiro answered.

“Okay I’ll be right back” Tadashi said as he went to the back of the house.

Aunt Cass came outside and stood next to Hiro “I think your really going to like your gift Hiro” Aunt Cass said with a smile.

“Really? Is it something I’ve been wanting like a new video game or a bike?” Hiro asked curiously.

“Well you got one of them right, but I’ll let you see for yourself” Aunt Cass said with a smile.

Hiro smiled back and stood close to his aunt as they waited for Tadashi.

Tadashi opened the garage and saw the present Aunt Cass and he bought for Hiro covered with a tarp.

“There you are!” Tadashi said as he grabbed the bike and rolled it out with the cover still on.

After a few moments Hiro and Aunt Cass saw Tadashi coming with a weird shaped present that looked familiar to Hiro “Ta Da!” Tadashi said as he pulled the cover off revealing a white bike.

Hiro’s eyes widen with excitement as he see the bike in front if him “It’s a bike! Wow thank you Aunt Cass!” Hiro said giving his Aunt Cass a hug.

Aunt Cass smiled and returns the hug, “What do you think Hiro? Do you like it?” Aunt Cass asked gently pulling away.

“I love it!” Hiro answered excitedly.

“Come on, stand next to your brother and the bike so I can take a picture” Aunt Cass said as she ready her camera.

Hiro stood next to his brother and smiled looking at the camera, “Say Cheese you two!” Aunt Cass said as she put the camera close to her face.

“Cheese!” Hiro and Tadashi said in unison as Aunt Cass took the picture.

“Perfect!” Aunt Cass said.

Tadashi looked at Hiro “You ready to get your first bike lesson?” Tadashi asked as he ruffled his hair.

Hiro let out a small laugh and playfully moved his brothers hand and fixed his hair, “Yes I’m ready, what do we do first?” Hiro asked.

“Well the first thing you need is your helmet and knee pads, Safety first.”Tadashi said putting the helmet on Hiro’s head.

Hiro closed the chin strap and began to put on his knee pads, Tadashi helped put on the last knee pad and stretch out his hand to help Hiro stand.

“You look cool bud.” Tadashi said playfully elbow bumping Hiro’s arm.

“Heh Thanks!” Hiro said with a smile. Hiro looked back at the bike and began to feel nervous, his mind began to flood with thoughts “What if i can’t do it? What if i fall and get hurt? Will i get made made fun of if I’m the only kid that doesn’t know how to ride a bike?” Hiro said getting lost in his thoughts.

Tadashi saw Hiro dazed and quiet “Hey you okay? What’s wrong?” Tadashi asked putting a hand on his shoulder.

Hiro snapped out of his thoughts and looked at his brother “I’m not sure I can do this Tadashi?” Hiro answered nervously.

“Why would you think that?” Tadashi asked confused

“I- what if i fall and hurt myself? Or what if I’m not good at riding a bike? I’ll get laughed at in school.” Hiro said with a sigh.

Tadashi took a moment to process what his brother just told him, after a few moments Tadashi went in front of Hiro and kneeled down to his level “Hey I know you’ll do great.”  Tadashi said softly putting a hand on his little brother shoulder.

“Do you wanna know how i know?” Tadashi asked.

Hiro nodded.

“I know your going to do great because your a smart kid and no matter what problem or task comes your way, you don’t ever give up.” Tadashi said

Hiro gave a small smile at his brother, he was thankful to have a brother who loved and supported him. “You really think I can do this?” Hiro asked.

“I know you can.” Tadashi said with a soft smile.

Hiro sighed and gave his brother a hug, “Thanks Tadashi, i think I’m ready now.” Hiro said.

Tadashi retuned the hug, “Alright, will start off easy okay?” Tadashi said retuning the hug.

“Okay” Hiro said gently pulling away from the hug.

Tadashi gently picked Hiro up and put him on the bike, “Okay Hiro, all you have to do is grab the handles and put your feet on the pedals” Tadashi instructed.

Hiro followed his brothers instructions and grab the handles and put his feet on the pedals “Wait!” Hiro said hesitantly and put his foot back on the ground.

“How will the bike stay balanced if my feet aren’t on the ground?” Hiro asked.

“The gravity is what helps the bike stay stable and upright, once you grabbed the handles you have to hold it straight so the bike doesn’t tilt or lean to the side while your trying to get it moving.” Tadashi explained.

I’ll be okay Hiro, I’m going to hold onto the bike while you put you feet on the peddles so you don’t fall. Then I’m going to need you to start peddling slowly while i push you  to get wheels moving okay?” Tadashi asked with a tender tone.

“O-Okay” Hiro answered.

Tadashi held onto the bike as Hiro put both his feet on the pedals, “Alright Hiro, go ahead and start peddling slowly” Tadashi instructed.

Hiro did as his bother instructed and began to peddle as best as he could. It was hard at first, he had to put a lot of effort and strength to move the pedals. After a few seconds of peddling the bike began to move slowly “Haha! Tadashi look I’m doing it!”Hiro said excitedly as his brother held on to the bike while he peddled.

“Great Job Hiro! See told you there was nothing to be afraid of.” Tadashi said with a smile.

Tadashi helped Hiro practice riding his bike, they went around the block and rode around the cafe. After a few more tries Tadashi knew Hiro was ready to do it once his own. “Alright Hiro, I think your ready to do this ride on your own.” Tadashi said.

“You really think I’m ready? You think i can do this turn on my own?” Hiro asked.

“I know your ready, you can do this little bro!” Tadashi said encouragingly.

Hiro smiled and nodded “You’ll still be here though right? Like if i fall you’ll be here?” Hiro asked nervously.

“Hiro I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.” Tadashi said reassuringly.

“Thanks Tadashi, I think I’m ready” Hiro said with a smile.

Tadashi and Hiro did their fist bump and went back to the bike lessons. Hiro grabbed the handles and put his feet on the pedals as Tadashi held onto his brothers shoulders.

“Okay Hiro, I’m going to let you go now. You ready?” Tadashi asked

Hiro felt a little bit of fear rise up inside of him, “No, no, no, Tadashi, wait!” Hiro said fearfully as he felt Tadashi let go.

“Don’t be scared, little brother. Just pedal harder! You can do it!” Tadashi said cheering his brother on.

“Go, Hiro! Yeah! Woo-hoo!” Aunt Cass cheered as she recorded the whole thing.

“Yeah, yeah! You got it!” Tadashi said with a proud smile.

Hiro felt that fear he had disappear as he saw himself riding the bike all on his own. “Haha, yes! I’m doing it! I’m riding a bike!” Hiro laughed proudly as he went back to his brother giving him a hug.

“See, I knew you could do it! I’m so proud of you Bro!” Tadashi said proudly returning the hug.

“Aww group hug!” Aunt Cass said as she hugged both of her nephews tight.

Hiro and Tadashi laughed and smiled embracing their Aunt Cass hug.

                        ~8 years Later~

Hiro opened his eyes and sat up from his bed, He gazes at the bike that his brother had given him and hie eyes begin to glisten with tears as the memory floods his mind once more. Hiro walks over to the bike and puts a hand on one of the handles as the memory continues to play in his mind.

Baymax wakes up from his sleep mode when he hears Hiro getting up. He turns to see Hiro standing near his bike “Hiro is everything alright?” Baymax asked scanning him. My scan indicates high levels of sadness, what’s wrong?” Baymax asked walking over to him.

“Nothing Baymax, I was just.. remembering something that happened a long time ago” Hiro said wiping away a few tears from his eyes.

“Hiro, it is good to talk about your feelings, and if something is bothering you. Whether it be with a loved one or a close friend, it would help you feel better.” Baymax stated.

“Thanks Baymax, I guess i was just remembering the day Tadashi taught me to ride this bike.” Hiro said sniffing.

“I miss him Baymax, i wish he was still here with us.” Hiro sighed sadly.

“It is okay to morn and miss a loved one” Baymax said giving Hiro a hug.

Hiro felt tears fill his eyes as he returned the hug.

“Thanks Baymax” Hiro said with a sigh wiping his tears away.

“I know Tadashi would want me to keep going, I know he is still with me” Hiro said sniffing.

Hiro’s phone began to ring with a txt message, “Momakase just stole something from Krei Tech, meet us there.” ~Gogo

Hiro looked back up and looked at the bike once more, “Tadashi wanted to help people and that’s what were going to do Baymax.” Hiro said determinedly.

The End

I really hope you all enjoyed it? I know it’s probably not as best as my other stories but I really wanted to write a BH6 fic and I really wanted to see this scene in the show. Sorry If some of the txt or story is a bit rushed or random, it’s been sitting in my notes for like 5 months and I haven’t touched it till yesterday heh😅 Likes, Comments, Reblogs, and constructive criticism is most welcomed and encouraged✨ I love hearing feedback from you all, it makes my day better and makes us writers feel good that something we work hard on is appreciated by our readers✨💛

I also want to thank @whitecatindisguise for helping me with the idea of giving it a little of angst ending✨ I also want to thank @bighero6dreams for the idea of writing this fic because I love the brotherly relationship these two have and we definitely should have seen more of it✨ also big shoutout to @baymaksu because I’ve read their fics and it’s what inspired me to write my own BH6 fic☺️

#D-Angel writes #I had to rewatch some episodes to remember how Baymax talks because I’ve never written him before lol 😅 #I was going for a fluffy ending but I thank Kitty mom for giving me the idea of having a little bit of angst #I’m overall happy with how it came out but not exactly proud heh #i’d love to hear your thoughts #disney #big hero six #big hero 6 #big hero 6 the series #bh6 #bh6 the series #BH6 fanfic #bh6 fanfic #bh6 fandom #hiro hamada #tadashi hamada #disney fic #my fanfiction #baymax #aunt cass #the hamada brothers

[mustyrosewater]

their responses to the words “make me.”

as i’m sure we all know, the two words “make me.” are some of the most used in a brat’s vocabulary. greatly inspired by my good friend @the-door-matt​ (who is a self proclaimed brat.) i have decided to write how pedro’s characters respond to said sentence. good luck, and god bless the brats. 

NSFW CONTENT UNDER THE CUT, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

javier pena :

baby, are-

are you sure you don’t have a death wish? surely you do if you give a man like javier pena any from of attitude. 

all day, you’d been trying to get under your co workers skin, simple things such as taking just a little bit of extra time getting your coffee, making you late. wearing those bell bottom jeans you know hugged your ass just the right way, anything you could do to get on javier pena’s nerves, you did.

you don’t even remember what he asked you for, maybe he’d asked you to hand him a pen, or even pass him a file that was sitting beside you; all that you remember, is leaning forward slightly from where you were sitting on the desk and tilting your head before saying those cursed to words.

“make me, pena.”

admittedly, you should have known better, but for some strange reason, you’d just felt the need to push one his buttons, at least you’d been wise enough to do this when it was after hours, only the two of you left in his office to sort through reports and such. 

you should have known that from the way he turned deathly still and looked up at you slowly, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. if look’s could kill, you’d most definitely be dead. you could only watch as he slowly took the cigarette from his lips and squashed it in the ceramic ashtray on his desk. 

next thing you know, javier has gotten up from his desk and is now standing in front of you, a hand now wrapped gingerly around your lower throat, not applying any pressure, simply sitting his hand there and keeping you still. 

“is that how it’s going to be? you’ve been trying to get under my skin all day missy.” 

as he speaks, his head lowers from around your throat to begin ghosting along your covered skin, barley applying enough pressure to feel his touch, just enough to know that its there.

“this is what you want? is that why you’ve been trying to push my buttons all day hm?”

legend has it you had trouble walking the next day, bruises on your hips and thighs certainly saw to that. needless to say, javi didn’t get attitude from you except on some very special occasions. 

francisco “catfish” morales : 

you took his hat, babe, why did you take his hat?!

he’d been searching for it since he woke up, after he’d had a shower, only to find that his hat wasn’t waiting for him on the bedside table as it always was. there was also the matter of the fact that you were nowhere to be found. 

he came down the stairs slowly, only now hearing movement in the kitchen. when he finally poked his head around the corner only to find you in the kitchen, leaning on the counter and waiting for toast to pop did he spot his cap sat snugly on top of your head, turned backwards allowing him to see the logo of the oil company. 

you must have heard him, because you turned and offered him a big smile, though he could read the mischief clear on your face. 

“morning.” you practically sang as he approached, wrapping your arms around his waist and standing on your toes to kiss the end of his nose. his hands sat snugly on your hips as he stared down at you like you would stare at a puppy that had been caught chewing on its owners shoe. 

before he could reach up to take his hat back, you broke away from his hold once you’d heard the toast pop. 

wasting no time, frankie only shook his head. “give it back.” he knew you knew what he meant, but you only turned around, giving a mock clueless look.

“give what back, babe?”

“my hat, give it back.” he didn’t sound angry, not even annoyed; if anything, he sounded like he was enjoying this little game you’d started with him.

“make me, francisco.” 

you quickly realized you’d fucked up when his eyes suddenly darkened, as he moved closer to you and had you pressed up against the counter in a manner of seconds. his breathing had suddenly grown heavy and he was practically grinding against you. 

as you breathed out a few soft moans, shutting your eyes and wrapping your arms around his neck, you felt the cap being pulled off of your head, opening your eyes just in time to see him placing his cap back on his head.

your mouth hung open as he smiled down at you and turned around heading for the front door. 

“don’t even think about it francisco.” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him back into the kitchen, hearing him laughing as he spun you around and pushed you back onto the counter, continuing his trail of kisses. 

shane “dio” morissey : 

oof, well, i can tell you that you fucked up.

dio is not somebody who likes to be given attitude in any shape or form, not getting his way, whether it be through manipulation or force, is an entirely foreign concept our resident goth boy. 

literally, doesn’t even matter why you said it, or what it was about. all that matters is that the words “make me” are like flicking a switch in dio’s mind that suddenly has you pressed against the wall with his hands wrapped around your throat as well as dio practically seething the most pornographic sentences into your ear.

don’t expect to be experiencing any release though, dio is going to do whatever he wants, and that means that you won’t be cumming until you’re crying, not until you’ve learnt his lesson.

whether that means you spend hours with his head between your thighs or rather hours bent over the bed with him pounding into you relentlessly until you can’t take anymore, it’s all the same to dio. 

he’s not going to let you cum until you are in tears baby cakes, not until you’re crying out that you can’t take any more and that you’re sorry, this is never going to happen again and that he needs to stop.

well, then he will, only long enough to gruffly let out “make me.” before resuming his torture on your body.

yeah, you won’t be walking straight for quite a few days after that, sorry not sorry. 

oberyn martell :

it’s the giving an actual prince attitude for me-

no, for real, despite the fact that oberyn is a prince, we know that he doesn’t take it too close to heart when it comes to thinking he’s above certain things.

however, you? being a brat? haha yeah that shit’s not gonna fly. as soon as you say that sentence and give him that look, it’s over. oberyn doesn’t tolerate you being a brat unless he wants you to be a brat.

he will simply repeat his request, allowing you one more chance to be good for him, when you retaliate with another “make. me.” this time pausing between words, oberyn simply shrugs, he gave you a chance, can’t say he didn’t try.

he walks towards you and picks you up, dropping you down onto the bed, staring down at your as he unlaces the lather belt holding his tunic in place. he lets it fall off of his shoulders leaving him only in his loose orange pants as you stare up at him, narrowing your eyes and biting your lip. 

he’s not stupid sis, he knows that this was what you wanted all along, seven god’s forbid he actually lets you get away with it though.

overstimulation and spanking is all that you’re going to get, all while he nonchalantly tells you “i gave you a chance to be good my little dove, if you want to be bad, see what you get.” before he lets another smack come down hard on your thigh. 

much like our friend dio, oberyn isn’t going to stop until you’re on the brink of tears and apologizing profusely, just pleading, begging for him to let you come. 

however, unlike dio, oberyn will cave in and let you because he’s lying if he says that look when your eyes roll back and your mouth hangs open turn him to putty in your hands. 

din djarin : 

ok look, he tried, he really did.

when you first replied to his request to pass him a tool with a mischevous “make me.” he only stopped for a second before resuming what he was working on.

“i’m serious.” he replied as nonchalantly as always, only causing a pout to form on your face.

“so am i.” you shrugged, moving the tool box out of his reach with your foot when he let out a sigh and reached for the tool himself.

“i’m not in the mood.” he grunted, standing up to tower over you, staring you down through the vizor of his helmet. you couldn’t even see his face, but knowing that under his helmet he must have been starting to get annoyed only brought a smirk onto your own. 

the tool that was clasped tightly between your hands was the next object of his staring. he reached for it, only for you to place your hand behind your back, not once breaking eye contact with the bounty hunter. 

though his helmet you could hear the pissed off huff he gave, right before he grabbed your other wrist and spun you around to push you down onto the crate you’d been previously sitting on. unable to move, you could only wait as he pried to tool out of your hand and suddenly let you go, only turning back to what he was working.

pouting, you turned around, expecting to see him continuing his work, instead, you watched him chuck the tool back into the tool box before he looked back at you, reaching forward to grip you by your shoulders and lead you into the room that two of you shared on the crest.

only checking once to make sure the kid was asleep, he shut the door behind him and shoved you down onto the bed, beginning to unbuckle his belt, only staring at you through his vizor. 

he fucked you into the mattress that night, so hard that you had bruises on your hips when you woke up, walking out of the room only to find him working once again, missing the small chuckle that emitted from him as you limped past him.

maxwell lord :

sorry my love, maxwell lord IV doesn’t take orders from anybody, especially not you. the two of you had gotten into some petty argument, something about how you’d already responded to star labs saying he’d be attending their charity gala, and now here he was, claiming that he no longer wanted to attend purely based off of the fact that one of the sales rep’s had given him a dirty look as they were leaving. 

you were stood in front of his desk, arms crossed and tapping your foot impatiently, staring at your boss as he propped up his feet and gave you that smirk that was all to familiar and all too infuriating. 

without another word, you simply threw your hands up and grabbed your coat, turning around and walking towards the large mahogany doors you knew would take you out of his office.

“don’t walk away from me.” his voice rung out behind you, as well as the sound of him standing up from his chair. 

you didn’t reply, only continued walking; just as your hand touched the door handle his voice rung out again, though much colder, much more harsh.

“don’t you take one more step out of this office.” 

you whipped your head around to look at maxwell, your eyes suddenly wide with insult, who the hell was he to order you? well, technically he was your boss, but still. 

you took a few steps towards him, your heel’s clicking on the marble floor before you stopped and stood in silence, letting your eyes linger on his face before finally speaking. 

“make me.” 

without even waiting for a reply you turned around and continued your retreat out of the office that you were sure cost more than your own house three times over. 

but before you could leave, you felt hands on your shoulders as you were spun around harshly to meet the angry eyes of maxwell, his breathing was heavy and his perfectly gelled hair had moved slightly out of place, leaving a few strands sitting on his forehead. 

“is that what i have to do to get you to fucking listen to me once in awhile hm?” as he spoke, he turned the two of you around and continued until you were pushes against his desk feeling the hard wooden table digging into the backs of your thighs. 

all i’m gonna say is, expect to be bent over that desk and prepare to hide the bruises around your thighs from by the time our man is done with you.

you may have begun to order him around a lot more often after that occurence, who knows. 

max phillips :

okay well, for one 

why are you saying “make me” to your boss

especially when your boss is max phillips  

it was, in all honestly, because you were having a bad day, technically your shift wasn’t starting for another ten minutes, you’d only just sat down at your desk and let out a sigh as you heard your boss’ office door opening as well as those infuriatingly well polished shoes appearing in your vision.

without even saying good morning or anything, max was already on your case about those reports that were meant to be on his desk by this afternoon.

not even waiting for a reply, he patted you on the shoulder and reminded you that you needed to start working.

without even thinking, as he was walking away, you blurted out a snide “make me.” it was meant to be quieter than it came out, a little snap only meant for your ears, and yet, somehow, he seemed to have heard it loud and clear.

the second, and i mean the second, those words leave your mouth, max’s head will have spun around to look at you in disbelief, sparing little to no time before he’s placing his hands flat on the desk of your cubicle and narrowing his eyes at you, only to growl:

“my office, right now.”

hope you’re ready bby, cause max certainly is. 

all your coworkers have to pretend that they don’t know exactly whats going to happen when max asks you to close the door behind you.

max practically shuffles his desk into the wall while bending you over it and fucking you into tomorrow, in his mind, this was his way of showing you what an attitude like that would get you

they also pretend that they can’t hear the banging and muffled moans coming from his office, he’s their boss, they can’t say shit. 

by the time your waddling out of his office, sheepishly adjusting your dress and collar, all while max leans in the door frame with a confident smirk plastered on his face. 

this is then followed by him demanding that everybody stop staring and get back to work.

jack daniels a.k.a agent whiskey : 

i love our yeehaw man, you love our yeehaw man, we love our yeehaw man.

so i can’t work out why you would want to get on this mans nerves.

it starts out small, little things that you know will push his buttons, stealing his hat off of his head once, then twice and then finally a third time.

you sat on his desk beside where he was working and grabbed the hat off of his head for the third time after he’d taken it back, placing it on top of your head and flicking the brim upwards playfully.

you knew he could stop you from taking it, but he was either enjoying this more than he was letting on, or didn’t have the heart to stop your fun, either way; what had started out as fun was very noticeably beginning to annoy him.

he sighed deeply when you grinned at him, swinging your legs back and fourth from where you were sitting.

“babygirl, light of my life, will you please stop taking my hat.” 

his voice was audibly tired as he looked up at you, only to see you grinning.

“but i like it, it looks better on me.”

by the sound he made, you could tell you were right, or at the very least, he really enjoyed seeing you in his hat, but despite that, he still lifted a hand to reach for it only to have you lean away from his reach

“i’m gonna have to ask for that back sugar.” 

“make me cowboy.”

as soon as you said that, his eyes noticeably darkened as soon as you said it, leading to him standing up and stepping in front of you, standing between your legs. 

“i won’t ask again babycakes. give me the hat.”

your only response was to lean in and smile at him.

“make. me.”

that was the limit, within mere blinks of an eye you found yourself bent over whiskey’s knee as he sat down in his office chair, the hat still on your head.

“i gave you the chance babygirl, no arguing now.”

your ass is gonna be red by the time your out of that chair, and i can confirm you will indeed be walking weird tomorrow.

but hey, it was worth the hat, wasn’t it?

pero tovar : 

baby i hope you know what you’re doing..

you stole his coin purse off of his belt while walking past him in the market, you’d stolen several coin purses today, this was just the first one that caught you.

you were only a few meters away when you’d heard him yell out from behind you, resulting in you breaking into a sprint through the crowd in order to get away from the mercenary now hunting you.

it took a few minutes of running before you were able to successfully escape, hiding behind a building and leaning against the wall huffing and puffing feeling like you were going to be sick.

finally calm enough to continue on, you turned the corner only to run bang smack into said mercenarys chest, the now very angry mercenary.

“you made me chase you through three streets senorita.”

despite attempting to turn and run once more, he caught you almost instantly and had you slammed against the wall.

“you’re one of the only people that have been able to outrun me, but despite this, you stole from me. give it back.”

maybe it was the high adrenaline, or the fact that the close proximity was allowing you to feel his breath on your cheek, but for some reason, you decided to dig your own grave even deeper.

“make me.”

the growl that left that man was nothing if not animalistic, the next thing you knew, you’d been swung around and having your chest pressed against the wall as he grinded against you, dipping face down to breathe in your scent.

“if we’re going to be like that senorita...”

yeah, needles to say you had a very fun time from then on out explaining to people how you met your latin lover. 

dave york : 

death. ELECTRIC CHAIR. did u really, reeeaallly decide to give a trained assassin attitude? ur funeral babes. 

i don’t even want to know how it happened, but as soon as that man heard “make me.” leave your pretty little lips. oh mama.

you were bent over the kitchen counter, hand through your hair, pulling it back and other hand blissfully placed around your neck, gradually applying more pressure.

“oh, you thought that was fucking funny? you want me to make you? you little fucking whore, i’ll make you then.”

trust this man will be leaving several bruises all over your body, this is literal hate fucking at a certain point, there is no other way to describe the way this man reacts to attitude of any kind.

words cannot describe the state that you are left in, but as much as it hurt, the aftercare is worth it. waking up to him laying soft kisses along your shoulder, all the bruises and bitemarks.

bringing you coffee while running you a bath so that the two of you can relax and let your body recover from the absolute torture and pleasure it has been through 

#pedro pascal #pedro #pascal #star wars #the mandalorian #oberyn martell #prince oberyn #game of thrones #Francisco 'Catfish' Morales #catfish triple frontier #triple frontier #netflix #wonder woman #wonder woman 1984 #maxwell lord #max phillips #bloodsucking bastards #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #din djarin x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #pedro pascal x reader #oberyn martell x reader #jack daniels x reader #kingsman #max phillips x reader #pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #javier pena

[littlemarie]

.

#i. WE ALL GO A LITTLE MAD SOMETIMES » … character study. #ii. THERE IS A MONSTER IN MY ROOM » … visage. #iii. EVEN THE DEAD TELL STORIES » … writing. #iv. NO MATTER WHAT YOU DO DON’T FALL ASLEEP » … out of character.

[mari-beau]

GIVE ME A REASON: PART SIX - A Rogue One Fanfiction

This is a shorter installment, and maybe pointless… maybe I’m dragging this out too long… But also, who cares, I’m doing this for fun. I just love playing with them!

Read on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Six

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Some coarse language. References to wounds. And… Cuddling?

Words: 1,720

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

The Death Star had come for them.

Again.

But Jyn couldn’t bring herself to care. It did seem a little strange to have been spared the last time only to probably be destroyed this time, barely a week later. But either way, it was the end to her life she now knew to be her fate, or whatever. It just felt right. It just was. Not the Death Star specifically, but,

Jyn Erso would die in Cassian Andor’s arms.

Whether it should’ve been on Scarif. Or it was here on Yavin 4. Or the next day. Or thousands of days in the future.

And there was a sort of peace in knowing that. One that allowed her to climb into his bed, slide her arms around him, and bury her face in his shoulder. He stirred and her heart skipped a beat. It was easier when he was unconscious, to consider how she felt about him, how she’d been attracted to men before, even had something akin to a relationship with one or two, but it had never felt like this.

“Jyn…?”

“Yes, it’s me. We’re on the base on Yavin 4. Safe. In your quarters.” It was easier to preempt any confusion or alarm Cassian experienced when he woke from his heavy, partially drugged, mostly just exhausted from his body’s healing, sleep.

“How long?” he asked, then realized there were static-laden voices broadcasting over the basewide intercom. “What’s going on?”

“You’ve been asleep for 12 hours,” Jyn said, moving closer and partially on top of him to prevent him from trying to get up in a rush and falling flat on his face. Also, she was admittedly afraid on some level, afraid to be alone and facing death. When he was near her, when they were physically entwined in some way, she felt like everything would be okay. Even if she died, if it was in Cassian’s arms, then everything would be okay. Irrational, yes. But that didn’t make it any less her truth.

“The Death Star is here,” she said, once she could tell he was awake enough to understand, not muddled by pain meds. “The Alliance is scrambling their forces to engage. They’re leaving the comms open, since you know…”

“We’re all dead if they fail.”

His arms wrapped around her and engulfed her in his warm embrace. Cassian Andor, a man who, she didn’t think she was wrong to guess, hadn’t received much at all in the way of affection in his life, somehow was so good at holding a person he made the pain of the universe go away, made the entire universe fade away except for his hands on her body, gentle and undemanding but also firm and reassuring, his breath hot on her neck, sending shivers down her spine, and his body beneath hers, so strong despite his injuries.

“Are you okay?” she asked, remembering the physical state of him.

“Mmm… Yes.” His hands tightened their grip on her side and shoulder, reflexively, a gentle squeeze as he murmured into her neck. “Feels good.”

He probably meant he felt fine, but oh, yes, it did feel good. Or maybe he was still quite medicated?

“My weight isn’t putting pressure on your injuries?” Jyn asked. “Maybe I should…”

“No.” Somehow he managed to pull her further into him, her breasts flattening against his chest, her hip practically fusing to his, her breath hitching momentarily and then joining the rhythm of his own breaths...in and out… in and out… in and out...

Cassian sighed, made a frustrated, growling sound.

“I need to use the ‘fresher,” he said, loosening his grip on her.

Jyn rolled off from him, swung her legs around to sit on the side of the cot and waited to see if Cassian could manage to stand. He slid to sit on the edge of the bed next to her and took a moment. She didn’t press him, though an instinct inside of her wanted to offer assistance, wanted to take care of him, wanted to ease the pain and struggle his recovery was.

He stood, again pausing for a moment, then walked slowly across the small room to his private refresher facilities. Apparently, it was one of very few benefits to his officer’s rank, for the small quarters were nothing more than a glorified closet. But she supposed it spared him from having to sleep in a large barracks with a bunch of others, not that it would’ve deterred Jyn in the least from crawling into his bed.

Part of her felt like she shouldn’t watch his laborious movements, out of respect, but she couldn’t look away. What if he needed her?

Force, what if he didn’t need her? Not like she needed him? Aw, fuck. She needed him.

She watched the muscles in his naked back twitch, stiff from inactivity and injury. But her eyes were inevitably drawn to the perfectly uniform lines of small circular marks running down his spine. She knew there was a matching sort of trail along his ribs. Injections of some sort of bacta cocktail meant to speed the fusing of the fractures in his vertebrae and ribs, injections straight into the bone. How painful would that have been if he’d been conscious, she couldn’t help but wonder, couldn’t help but want to wrap her smaller body around as much of Cassian as she could, run her hands gently over his scars, old and new, make sure his wounds were healing and his bruises fading, hear him sigh contentedly against her skin, hold him forever.

As he disappeared into the ‘fresher, Jyn realized she was hopeless.

Cassian Andor had taught her about hope. And had made her absolutely hopeless at the same time.

But why fret about it? What did it matter?

Jyn was used to dealing with life moment by moment, day by day. And she might not have many more moments, anyway.

The loud, static-laden voices crackling over the basewide intercom announced the launch of yet another squadron of fighters, then abruptly switched over to some ship’s communication officer announcing visual confirmation of the target. The Death Star.

Looming on the horizon like a moon, a harbinger of death, bringer of eternal night. Cold, austere, which made it somehow more terrifying, somehow worse than staring down an angry brute about to put a knife in you. It was just so inevitable, indomitable. Made her feel so small, insignificant, so alone.

“Do you mind if I turn this off?”

Jyn startled. How had she not noticed Cassian reappear in the small room? He pointed at the comm, which was broadcasting the prelims of a battle to determine all their fates.

She didn’t want to listen to it either.

“Please do,” she said, already feeling less… alone.

She watched Cassian lean over to switch the speaker off, wincing in sympathy with him as he straightened again, taking a deep breath that expanded his chest and shifted the muscles beneath his skin, mesmerizing her more than a little. His mostly naked body preoccupied far too many of her thoughts.

But what else had she been supposed to do? She’d woken up drenched in sweat that first night in his quarters, had to strip out of the heavy infirmary clothes, found Cassian tossing in his sleep, nearly feverish, removed the sweltering clothes from his body, as well. Little did she know, how enthralling she’d find his lean muscles, the shape of his body, the feel of his bare skin, his-

His hands cupped her face and Jyn looked up at Cassian Andor, his kriffing gorgeous dark eyes fixed on her. His fingers swept some stray hair from her forehead, tucked it behind her ear, returned to swipe gently over the nearly-healed scar above her eyebrow, in her hairline.

“Are you okay?” A knot formed in her throat. Cassian was a good man, despite every questionable thing he’d done and tortured himself over. Of course he would care about her wellbeing. It didn’t mean-

“Ow!”

“Your blaster wound still hurts?” His fingers feathered over her shoulder, not touching the freshly healed injury this time.

“It does when you jab your finger in it.” She grabbed his wrist and tugged his hand away, throwing him off balance so that he fell into her and she managed to catch him and ease him onto the bed, right where she wanted him.

A chuckle escaped him and he smiled, making something flutter inside of her. And then he was reaching for her, pulling her close.

His embrace was everything she’d never known she’d wanted. His hands stroked her back and he buried his face in her neck, nuzzling a sensitive spot just behind and below her ear.

She sighed, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying the fingers of her other hand in his messy, soft hair. She pressed gently as she massaged his scalp down to his nape, eliciting a hum of pleasure from him that vibrated against her bare skin and into her flesh.

If this was to be her last moment, Jyn held no regrets. It was a good moment.

“Jyn?” His voice had a lethargic but happy edge to it, thick and low and sleepy. She could sympathize.

“Yes?” She twisted her finger in a lock of hair curling about his neck.

“Please don’t let me sleep so long this time.” His whisper tickled her ear. “No more than 10 hours. Okay? Please?”

He wanted her to wake him up in 10 hours… Like there wasn’t a battle raging in space nearby… Like he didn’t believe they were quite probably going to die soon, incinerated by a weapon her own father helped design. Like he didn’t believe they were going to lose, after all. Somehow, he believed they would be there, together, ten hours from this moment.

Hope.

Such a man as Cassian… The most unexpected thing she’d discovered about him was his belief in hope. That he possessed any at all after all he had done, all he had seen. And then he’d given it to her.

And again, it warmed her, deep inside, that small seed of hope. She snuggled closer to the man, hoping for something she couldn’t even begin to conceive of. But yearned for it, with every fiber of her being.

#fic: Give Me A Reason #Rogue One #fanfiction #rebelcaptain #my fic #Cassian Andor #Jyn Erso #Cassian x Jyn

[triplesilverstar]

Touching Grass

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: Body dysmorphia, Pre-Canon, Illnesses, Major Illness, Major Character Injury, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Experimentation, Medical Examination, Dreams and Nightmares, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Heavy Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Fever, Running Away, Communication Failure, Soft Vash the Stampede, Mild Smut, Not Beta Read, Heartbreaking, Imprisonment, Dark Past, Murder, Cartoon Physics, Vashs' Coat as a blanket, Needles, Nightmares

Word count: Roughly 2.3K

A/N: Chapter four of Even sand can't hide all the skeletons in your closet. I love the title for this chapter so much it’s not even funny

Hearing the sliding of the pressurized door has Vash rousing from slumber, trying to keep his legs steady as he stretches his back, not wanting to wake you. Rubbing his eyes before looking down, only to be greeted by dimness. 

“Huh” a moment for the haze to be chased away from the recesses of his mind, there isn’t a weight on his thigh. Or any heavy breathing. “Mayfly!?” Hands scrambling as he searches for you, a sudden wetness clinging to his fingers. Like a lightbulb going off in his mind he dashes for the door to hit the light switch, flooding the area in the glow from above. 

You aren’t there. But his jacket is. 

His heart sinking lower in his chest, the bloody IV laying on the floor a puddle of stark crimson and clear fluids, and perfect small circles of red leading away. Eyes following the trail. He needs to find you and fast. “just hold on Mayfly. I”ll find you.” Fear gripping his heart, he shouldn’t have let himself fall asleep, not when he had expected you to respond so negativity when you woke up.  

All he can hope for, is you haven’t gotten far. Unsure how he’s going to react if you’ve found a way out of the ship, into the swirling sandstorm when you were so weak. “Please be ok.” Feet thundering under him as his lean legs eat up the length of the hallways, following the unintended trail you’ve left behind.

Rushing through the long hallways you don’t stop, no matter how much your legs are screaming, the logic in your body still trying to recover is being overridden by the instinct to run. 

Instincts don’t care if your legs haven’t supported your weight in several days. Don’t care that you're still dehydrated. Don’t care that you’re still fighting off your sickness. They’re just telling you to bolt.

Muscles spasming from the lack of use in the last few days.

All you want to do is get away. As fast as possible. 

Additional damage done to you be damned. 

Chest heaving as you take a turn at a corner of the hallways. “Shit!” Hissing as an older man in white walks out from a doorway, bags under his eyes. 

“Hey. Stop!” He’s moving to block your path, legs and arms spread out to give you less space. Letting your momentum carry you, you drop to your side, feet first and sliding under his legs clear to the other side of his body. Your knees are burning from the impact but you aren’t stopping, rolling from your side to your front and pushing yourself upwards with your arms. 

Adrenaline overriding the pain as your first step is a lunge to keep your speed going, knowing your body is going to be screaming at you later. Hell it’s screaming at you now but you’re too stubborn to listen. Taking another turn and seeing what looks like natural light flooding the hallway you’re racing down towards it.

Brad is watching as you bolt. “How the hell can she move like that when sick?” Dumbfounded a bit by your speed and reaction time to him, a hand on his chin knowing at his age he’d never catch you. Turning at the sound of sole clad feet pounding against the tiles of the hallway. 

“Brad! Did you see her?” Skidding to a stop so as to not take out the older man, panting hard. How much of a head start did you have on him? 

Jabbing a thumb over his shoulder where a splash is red is staining the light coloured floor. Smeared blood, making Vash swallow “she sure can move it for someone sick. You need a hand catching her?” He might not be able to chase you but he can block off hallways and paths. Or try too. 

Shaking his head at the other man’s concern. “No. If it’s more then me trying to catch her she might freak out more. Did you see which way she went?”

“It looks like she’s headed for the atrium. I’ll go find Luida, and meet you there in a bit. If you haven’t caught her by then you're gonna need the help.” Nodding at the wisdom of the older man’s words Vash is running after you again. 

“I’ll see you soon.” Yelled behind him, who’d have thought with all his years of running he’d be chasing after someone for once instead of the other way around. 

You can see it, just a few more steps. The natural light flooding the hallway almost blinding you, blinking rapidly as you bound out into the sunlight. Only to find your steps slowing as your head whips around. 

You’re still inside. 

The light flowing in from the massive glass panes of an atrium, and for the first time since you arrived on this barren planet you see greenery. 

The shock and awe overtaking your instincts to flee, still moving but it’s more like an amble instead of a full on sprint. Feeling the blades of grass as they prick up between your toes, tears coming to your eyes. Blue flowers in the center, you haven’t seen a space like this in a long time.

Lost in wonder you don’t hear Vash running after you, his own steps slowing as he watches you wander around the atrium clearly in awe at the space. And what looks like recognition.  Measured steps trying to keep out of your line sight and feeling his throat growing dry. The blood drops he had followed had been spread a decent distance apart, an indication you had been terrified of something, and felt the need to bolt. A nagging suspicion based on the last time you had tried to run from him, because how you had come back to him gasping as your body restarted itself after he thought he had lost you. 

Seeing movement in the corner of your eye, black clothes, you get ready to sprint once more, the terror clear on your face, eyes reflecting despair. 

Vash doesn’t let you get away this time, even if you hadn’t been aware he was after you, wrapping you tight in his embrace feeling you struggle as he shifts his grip to keep you confined against his body. “I’ve got you Mayfly. I swear you’re safe. Please baby please, don’t fight me. You’re still recovering.” Words rushed and cracking as he tries to contain his own anguish, the unabashed fear he had seen on your face forcing his heart to shatter. You were afraid of him. Trails of tears running freely down his face, he never wanted to see such a look on your face because of him. “Please baby.” Whispered against your hair, your struggles growing weaker as everything you had done since waking catches up to it, slumping forward exhausted in his arms hands trying to push him away. 

“Just let me go. I’m not worth the pain or the trouble.” Your blubbering, words broken as you hiccup while trying to speak. 

“Yes you are.” Three words and they’re the steadiest he’s said. 

Both of you fall to the ground, a controlled descend on his part as Vash keeps you held in his arms, letting you hide in his chest as you keep muttering you aren’t worth it. Just a monster that doesn’t deserve his kindness. That he should just let them cut you open to see what makes you tick. 

“Never. You make me whole.” Trailing his hand down your back, watching as Luida and Brad appear at the edge of the atrium. Watching the two of you while Vash lets you sob against him. He doesn’t care that they have a front row view of him pressing his lips to the crown of your head, whispering words of comfort while you keep telling him you’re not worth it.  

“Please. I can’t. You’re too kind for me.” Everything is draining you, from that stupid strange dream memory, to waking up and seeing Vash reading about your past, running around this place and now finding a hidden paradise. “Too whole.” You just want to run, well aware you don’t have the energy for it anymore. “Just let me go.”

“I can’t” his grip on you loosened so his flesh hand is tangled in your hair, fingers dragging along your skull trying to sooth you in your despair. “Mayfly, you’re still sick.” His voice growing thicker, and over the sound of your fading sobs you can hear him swallow. “You had me so worried, you weren’t getting better. I had to do something, I knew you’d panic, if I had known it was this bad I wouldn’t have brought you here. It wasn’t worth you never getting better.” More of him breaking, because the thought of losing you might not have hurt as much as seeing you afraid of him.

“You should have just left me behind.” It pulls at you, knowing you’re the cause of his pain at the moment. It’s all you’re good for, causing pain and suffering with a hint of destruction. Now you’ve inconvenienced him from getting to his next destination, because wherever this is has to have been out of the way. “I just slow you down.” 

“No baby.” A hitch in his throat, you still haven’t opened your eyes since the two of you settled in the grass. Far too afraid to open them. “I could never leave you behind when you’re that sick. You don’t slow me down, you never will. Just a few more days and you’ll be back to your old scowling self. Then we can be on our way again, together.” An attempt to alleviate some of the grimness surrounding both of you. The hand that had been in your hair is sliding across your face, tilting your chin up “come on Mayfly. Show me those pretty eyes I can’t get enough of.”     

You do open them, certain they’re red ringed and bloodshot doubting that they could ever be pretty. The vision that greets you makes you want to slam them shut once more, Vash’s sunglasses aren’t on his face and you have a perfect view of the sorrow he’s swimming in shining from his blue orbs. Trails from his shed tears standing out starkly against his red cheeks, his lips swollen and bruised from biting the tender skin between his teeth.

It’s a struggle but you release the balled up fabric from one of your hands, fingers hesitant as they land on his jaw. “You shouldn’t cry for me. I don’t deserve those tears.” They burn your throat as you speak them, but it’s a raw truth, turning your face away from his as he tries to close the distance. Feeling those soft yet broken lips as they press against the side of your face.

“Let me judge that.” You can feel the vibration of his lips against the thin skin near your ear, along your jaw, how can he say that? He should be judging you, in the worst way possible. “Just know I can’t judge the things you’ve done in your past, not when I have my own sins to bear.” What does that mean? From what you’ve seen Vash only carries the pains of others, those he thinks he failed because he wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t strong enough. Wasn’t clever enough. All things you know he’s wrong about. 

“Not to break up whatever this pity party is. But I don’t think you should be sitting out here covered in grime and dripping blood.” A voice of reason cutting across the bleak mood that you and Vash seem to refuse to want to leave. The same man as before. And he has a stare that conveys beyond a doubt he’s willing to scrap if he needs to. 

“Well. It’s nice to finally meet you when you’re awake young lady.” Turning in Vash’s hold, noticing the older woman, she’s gazing at you like you’re something more than you are. Something to cherish. A soft smile, and her weathered eyes are crinkled. “I’m Luida. I’m the leader of this ship. And this” a delicate wave of her hand towards the gruff looking older gentleman besides her. “Is Brad. I heard you met briefly in one of the ship corridors.” Met briefly. That was certainly one way to put it. 

“Hi.” It strikes you just how underwhelming that single word sounds, your voice small and weak, the tiredness in your body taking over. The levels of exhaustion starting to take hold, even if you still wanted to run now, you wouldn’t have been able to. Not even certain you trust yourself to stand upright. 

A light airy laugh leaving the older woman, eyes gentle. “Hi. Brad is right, I’m certain after the last few days you might want a chance to freshen up. Get into some clean clothes, and it won’t hurt to wrap that arm.” As if you are moving in slow motion you look down at your arm, seeing the mass of skin and tissue you took with the IV when you’d ripped it out. 

“Ow” 

“Did you really just notice that now?” Brad is sighing, slapping his palm to his face, exasperated. “Figures Vash would find someone as clueless as he is.” 

“Huh” 

“Don’t mind him.” A small dainty hand held out to you, as you meet Luida’s gaze and it makes your heart thunder inside your chest again. She’s either an excellent liar, or she really is a woman filled with compassion.

Swallowing past the cotton that has formed inside your mouth, you take the smallest leap of faith, disentangling from Vash who is slow to let you go and settling your hand in hers. Your fear is still running deep inside of you, ingrained in your bones, but if this lady wants to slice you open she’ll find a way regardless. 

Even a baby step towards trusting them, is a step forward. 

Back to Masterlist for the series

#vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #trigun #twink writes #Bullets Bandits Ghosts & Typhoons #tristamp

[codedredalert]

O’ Death [One Piece, Law] -- oneshot

Law-centric character study || 1157 words

The first time Law dies, he is ten and the world ends in fire.

(Written for the OP Tarot Project Death card.)

Death Upright: Necessary endings, illness, change, letting go, transition, rebirth. Reversed: Living unaware, resistance to change, delayed endings.

Warnings: canon-typical violence, character death, chronic terminal illness and pain

(On Ao3) 

===/\===

.

          I. Faith

The first time Law dies, he is ten and the world ends in fire.

Somewhere between the rain of explosives and artillery, the marines in uniform dragging bodies into the street, and numbing horror, some part of Law is mortally wounded. It's a small part, and it goes into shock as Law buries himself under the crushing weight of bodies being carted out of the city to be burned.

His parents' son and sister's brother dies. He is carted away with a nameless heap of his country's people. The part of Law that is light, love, and innocence goes with them to the grave.

That he still breathes is of no account.

.

===/\===

.

          II. Flesh

The second is a slow death, from when Law is nine-and-a-half to twelve-and-nine-months.

Amber Lead hurts.

It's noticeable in the lungs first, in the hacking cough, and the sensation of never getting enough air no matter how many rasping breaths he might struggle to take. It goes for the intestines next, sitting heavy and painful in his gut, making even the thought of food unrealistic. By the time it takes to his skin, hard patches which crack and ooze blood and plasma…

Everything hurts, all the time.

Law's days are numbered. He counts them, three years from his parents' last hushed argument about his dying sister and himself.

Some days are better. Some days are worse. Some days, dying is scary, but living just hurts  so much.

Hate keeps him going.

Hate straps scavenged explosives to his small chest with patchy-white hands.

"Let me join you," Hate says to Donquixote Doflamingo with Law's failing lungs. "I want to see the world burn."

.

===/\===

.

          III. Heart

Law's third death is a surprise, but that is the risk of walking around with your heart in someone else's body.

Humans are social creatures. So, despite everything, it's rejection that hurts the most.

He'd overcome the impossible, escaped the fall of Flevance, fought through overwhelming grief and weakness, scraped together enough willpower and supplies to get to Spider Miles—and the Donquixote inner circle scattered away from him, screaming.

Disgust. Avoidance. The desire to eliminate him like vermin.

Again and again it happens, at every hospital Corazón stupidly,  ignorantly, drags him to. Law is subjected to fear and rejection time and time again.

It chips away at the pale shadow that had roused itself in the ashes of his burning city. He barely has the energy to be bitter, he  wants  to be bitter, to rage and rail and protest "I lived! I lived, and this is what I got."

But he's tired and everything hurts and he's twelve and he's dying and he's dead—he just hasn't stopped bleeding yet.

"You poor boy," whispers Corazón, thinking Law sound asleep. Law isn't, not truly—he hasn't slept properly in years. The strangled breaths, the twisted gut and the cracked skin don't allow it. "You poor boy."

And Corazón wept.

With his back to the man, Law feels tears fall upon his head. The heat and salt of them were alive, deeply human, and a remedy for great wrongs. Corazón swept the hate out, replaced it with the soft mortal thought of "I'm small and I'm scared and I don't deserve to die."

The tears he'd thought long-dried well up in his eyes and Law wept too.

From that point on, Corazón is Cora-san, and Law is a boy who deserves to live.

        (I love you.)

        (You are free.)

Cora-san dies in his place to make it true.

.

===/\===

.

          IV. Fear

Law's fourth death is by his own hand.

He learns his lesson—everyone around him dies. He hadn't learned well enough from Flevance, but the lesson had been repeated in Cora-san and well. . . he didn't fancy a third time.

He sends his people far away with every provision he can make for his failure. They're holding him back, he tells himself. So he looks his oldest, dearest, closest friends in the eyes and tells them to go ahead to Zou. That he'd meet them there soon. He doesn't tell them what he's going to do—Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin corner him to ask, but he's foul-tempered from stress and fear, and stubborn enough that they let the matter drop. He refuses to risk them, so he bundles up everything worth living for and banishes it, watches the Tang sink slowly below sunset-dyed waters for maybe the last time. He stands on the shore replaying the sight to burn it into memory long after they're gone.

"It's for the best," he argues at the yawning blank landscape of the winter half of Punk Hazard. He knows exactly what—who—he is up against, and preparing for death is only prudent. His exhaustion and selfish desire to hide with them in the Tang forever just isn't realistic. It doesn't matter how he feels. This way he can't be tempted to cowardice, to run into the waiting arms of those who love him and just . . . live.

He has a debt, a  duty, and he's already made Cora-san wait for so long.

It doesn't matter how he feels.

When the marines come knocking, when Monet reveals that she has been one of Doflamingo's all along, when his careful contingencies start collapsing around him, and allying with Straw Hat constantly feels like the dream where he misses the step on a staircase and  falls—

Law goes through the whole thing half-numb, smirking or scowling to hide his racing heart and whirling panic.  

Dressrosa is the end of everything, one way or another. Law is terrified but he can't show it, not with the Straw Hats watching him for direction and the slightest indication that he'd betray them.

Despite Law's best efforts, Doflamingo cuts through Law's plans, unloads a round of lead bullets into Law's chest in a mocking parody of Cora-san's murder. Somehow, deep in his heart, Law expected this. Law has run all the possibilities and permutations, failure is very real. It's  Doflamingo, after all. And Law is only Law.

But Straw Hat—impossible, aggravating, miracle-working Straw Hat—charges straight ahead. He causes pirates and kings to argue for the privilege of killing Doflamingo. It's bizarre, to have an entire crowd believe Doflamingo so easily killed—like he isn't a beast of mythos, the closest thing to invincible, the idol god of Law's desperate youth.

In the midst of the rabble, Law finally manages a fragile belief in what he's been trying to convince himself of for thirteen years:

          He is not infallible.  

          All men must die.  

          All men must die, and Doflamingo is only mortal.  

In that moment, Law decides, against all logic and reason, to bet everything on Straw Hat.

.

.

.

.

Impossibly, they win.

High above the rising dust of Dressrosa's ruins, Straw Hat defeats Doflamingo. Law picks Straw Hat from the sky and Doflamingo's dominion dissolves along with his birdcage.

It's over, everybody lives—

.

.

                        —and Law is  free.

.

.

===/END\===

(On Ao3)  ( patreon ) ( kofi ) ( paypal )

#trafalgar law #donquixote doflamingo #monkey d luffy #corazón #corasan #donquixote rosinante #donquixote rocinante #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #opfanfic #op fanfiction #op fanfic #op #my writing #mine #tarot

[cyhyr]

KakaIru Maze 2021: Decoding Ancient Lost Languages

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: T

WC: ~4540

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Additional Tags: Mysterious Injuries, Old Gods, Sacrifice, Poisoning, Curses, Hospitalization, Hopeful Ending, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Hair Loss

A/N: *~*Throws Confetti*~* I. DON'T. KNOW. WHAT. I'M. DOING.

I did the barest amount of research for this fic. *~*More Confetti*~*

Read on The Archive

~

Normally, Iruka would balk at the idea that he should be carried through the front gates after a mission, no matter how gruelling. He has an image to uphold, and what if one of his students were to see him broken and weak after one of his missions? He’d either never hear the end of their worry or, worse, lose their respect as a strong shinobi capable of teaching them.

So no, this situation is far from normal.

He holds on tight around Kotetsu’s shoulders and buries his face in his teammate’s hair. His back is on fire, carved wounds shifting and worsening with each step. Some kind of curse-seal, or a time-released jutsu; whatever happened, Izumo couldn’t use the mystical palm jutsu to heal it, not without causing further excruciating pain and making the wounds ooze and seem to cut themselves deeper into Iruka’s back.

They had cut their losses and abandoned the mission. Iruka’s fūinjutsu was vital to its success anyway, and he was—is—in constant agony.

Thankfully, they enter the village just after nightfall. Iruka can feel a bit relieved over that—most of his current students are home and inside at this time, so the chances of being seen by any of them are slim. He bites his lip to stifle a cry as Kotetsu pushes off a rooftop a bit harder than usual and it shifts him too much.

They’re halfway to the hospital when the ANBU team flank him and Kotetsu, escorting them the rest of the way. One of them, Cat, runs close enough to talk.

“Report.”

Iruka can’t. Kotetsu responds, “An injury that responds poorly to normal medical field ninjutsu.”

“Is he awake?”

Iruka nods, knowing Cat will see.

“Iruka-sensei, can you speak?”

He shakes his head.

Kotetsu says, “He’s been in too much pain to do much more than nod or shake his head.”

“Rokudaime-sama wants you and your other teammate to report directly to him once Iruka-sensei is admitted to the hospital.”

Kotetsu fumbles another step. Iruka grits his teeth and groans, holding back a scream. “Sorry, Ru,” he mumbles. To Cat he says, “Of course, ANBU-san. Izumo’s checking us in at the gate. I’ll collect him and report, once I drop Iruka off.”

Iruka doesn’t remember being admitted. He does remember Sakura’s startled cry as he’s placed face-down on a gurney and his wounds are finally able to be seen in harsh fluorescent lighting for the first time. Gods, he’s tired of being face-down in hospital beds.

Will something, anything, have the wherewithal to fucking strike him in the chest for once, please?

He passes out.

~

A hand is holding his own gently as he wakes, extremely disoriented and floaty on painkillers. He blinks his eyes open and turns his gaze to the man beside him. Iruka smiles faintly. “K’shi,” he slurs. Oh, they have him on the good drugs.

“You are never leaving the village again,” Kakashi whispers harshly. He bows his head and kisses Iruka’s hand in his own and continues, “Hokage’s orders.”

“I‘ll go rogue,” Iruka mutters, closing his eyes. “What’s in my IV?”

“From what Sakura tells me? Everything.”

“That explains.” Iruka stops, trying to think of the rest of his sentence, but a fresh flood of painkillers just flowed into his arm and he hums instead.

“I heard from Kotetsu and Izumo what happened,” Kakashi continues. “Are you able yet to talk about it as well?”

“Nope.” Iruka nuzzles into his pillow. He’s feeling really floaty and he’d like to go back to sleep.

Kakashi chuckles. Iruka receives a kiss to his hair and a tighter grip on his hand. “Sleep, then, my love. I’ll see if Sakura can get you on something less strong, enough that we can talk soon.”

“‘Kay. Love you.”

He falls back asleep.

~

When he wakes the second time, there’s a different kind of energy in the room—a different sort of love in the air, and Iruka knows it sounds crazy but he can just tell, even with his eyes still closed, when he’s around Kakashi or if he’s around Naruto.

Now, it’s Naruto.

Also, he can feel the carving in his back, so whatever they’d had him on before they’d lowered the dosage or put him on something else entirely.

“Hey, Naruto,” Iruka says, opening his eyes.

In the chair beside his head, the blond bundle sits, knee twitching. With his bandaged arm crossed over his other and his head bowed in thought, he almost looks like the adult he’s so close to being, instead of the teenager he still is. They argue good-naturedly about it all the time; Naruto insists that he’s an adult, but at eighteen, he’s still technically a teenager and Iruka reminds him of it as much as he can.

“Iru-nii! How are you feeling?”

“Like someone took a carving knife to my back,” Iruka scoffs. “Also, strangely drained.”

Naruto nods. “Sakura-chan said that the new pain medicine has the side-effect of making it feel like you’re chakra-exhausted. But,” he frowns, “she also said that the dose should be strong enough that you wouldn’t be in too much pain when you wake up.”

“It’s bearable, Naruto. You…” He sighs, “You didn’t see me when I came in, did you?”

He shakes his head. “I was out with Kiba and Shikamaru. Kakashi-sensei told me about you this morning, when we got back. You’ve been drifting in and out for, like, three days!”

Iruka buries his face in his pillow and groans. There goes his hope that the carvings won’t scar.

“He says he’ll be by later,” Naruto adds. He shivers comically. “I still don’t see why you’d pick him of all people, Iru-nii.”

Iruka smiles. “You have a different experience with him as his student.” The smile fades and he asks, “Has there been any progress made on fixing my back?”

Naruto sobers. “See, that’s the thing. Every time Sakura tries to get close with some kind of medical ninjutsu—or even with normal healing balms and stitches—the cuts react violently. Like there’s some bad chakra embedded inside them.”

“Has anyone had a Hyūga come and look at it?” Iruka muses. “If there’s chakra in the cuts, then a Hyūga would see it with the Byakugan.”

Naruto jumps up. “You’re a genius! I’ll go and check with Sakura-chan!”

Iruka watches him leave and sighs fondly. Kakashi did well with him, he thinks, and then closes his eyes and drifts.

~

At least he’s able to move around on his own now. Iruka washes his hands in the bathroom and then braces his palms on the sink. It’s been almost a week, and no one is any closer to figuring out how to fix his back.

Having a Hyūga look at the wounds didn’t help. It nearly blinded Hinata. Iruka still feels horribly guilty about it, but she can still see and activate her Byakugan, so he’s been told multiple times to let it go.

What she had seen made everyone uneasy though. A slimy discharge of chakra oozing from the wounds, bright and powerful enough that Hinata had to close her eyes against it.

Sakura has a small team of medi-nins on his case, researching at all hours. Two days, and they still haven’t found anything.

Iruka’s frustrated.

Kakashi visits every night and Naruto most mornings. It’s nice, but he’d rather be back in class with his kids.

He had to get a blood transfusion last night. His back hasn’t stopped bleeding, and the blood loss finally caught up to him.

Iruka turns his back to the mirror, takes off his shirt gingerly, and looks over his shoulder at the carvings. He frowns—it looks odd. This is the first time he’s gotten to see the wounds, and he can’t imagine no one's noticed…

He leaves the bathroom and hunts around in the stack of drawers by his bed. “Ha!” He finds a pad of paper and a pencil, and heads back into the bathroom.

It’s difficult, transcribing the still bleeding wounds onto paper through a mirror while looking over his shoulder. It’s even harder once the dose of painkillers he’s on fully metabolizes and he’s not yet done. Twisting his upper back, stretching and sitting on the edge of the sink so he can see his lower back—it aches.

A voice comes from the other side of the door, along with a soft knock. “Iruka-sensei? Is everything alright?”

Sakura.

He places the pad and pencil on the counter and slides the door open. “Sakura, has no one realized that the wounds are words?” he asks.

She looks startled. “Huh?”

“Could you please clean them for me again, and check that I’ve transcribed it correctly?” Iruka reaches back inside the bathroom and gives the pad of paper to Sakura. “I’m sure Rokudaime-sama will be interested in this.”

Sakura finally catches up. “Yes! Um, let me get you another dose of painkillers, and a flush kit. If you could sit back down, Sensei? I’ll be right back!”

Iruka just about collapses onto the mattress, leaning his elbows on his knees. Finally, some answers are on the horizon.

~

“It’s no language the cipher corps recognize, nor is it a code in our archives.” Kakashi has his arms crossed and a shoulder leaning against the window. “But they do agree with your assessment—it’s definitely a message of some kind.”

Iruka sighs, picking at the hospital food. “Validation is nice, but I was hoping for an end to this pain.”

“I know, love. Me too.”

“When can we expect word back from Sasuke?”

“If it is Otsutsuki, Sasuke should arrive as soon as possible, per my order. If not, he likely will only return a messenger hawk with the information.” Kakashi leaves the window and comes to sit on the mattress beside Iruka. “We’re going to figure this out.”

Iruka hums and leans against his partner, resting his head against Kakashi’s collarbone. It’s not comfortable, but it is comforting. “I miss sleeping with you,” he whispers.

Kakashi kisses the top of his head. “I miss you too, love. The house is too quiet without you.”

~

Iruka stares at the encoded characters transcribed from his back. He’s… discomfited. He’s been staring at the words for almost a half-hour, trying to make sense of it.

It doesn’t change.

Iruka knows this language.

Not… not well enough to read it outright, but enough that with the characters cleaned up and a fresh copy in his hands, one that was written down while the scribe (himself) wasn’t in immense pain, he recognizes it.

“Iru-nii!” Naruto steps in for his morning visit. “How’d you sleep?”

“As best as can be expected,” Iruka mutters. “Naruto, can you do me a favor?”

“Hmm? Sure!”

Thank the gods he still has his moments of dull-headedness. “In the office at home, I have a scroll with the Uzumaki clan seal on it. It’s the only one, middle shelf. I need you to get that scroll for me please.”

“Nii-chan, why do you have an Uzumaki scroll?”

Iruka sighs. “Go get the scroll, and I’ll explain when you get back, okay?”

Naruto leaves through the open window, his footing unsteady. But he leaves and that means that Iruka can breathe and take the time to think of a way to tell him, when he gets back, about how he found out that they are actually distantly related.

Actually, no—how is he supposed to—shit. Iruka drags a hand down his face.

Hey Naruto, oh this old scroll? Found it in the archives after Tsunade-sama left office! It was in a box marked with my parents’ names on it. Yeah, turns out that my father was a refugee from Uzushio, just like your mother! Oh, and funnily enough, Umino is also a branch family of the Uzumaki!

That’s… not going to go over well, is it.

~

Break a thing for fragments. Break the fragments for dust. Break the dust, and break what remains. Here is fire.

To forge a sword, to fight, to curse your enemies on the eve of battle. This is the story of blood and its exits.

A word that sanctifies the change that comes when the seared skin peels. Words spoken in ritual to inspire an unmerciful Change. To speak them aloud is to hear the sword hiss.

All these things share certain patterns.

“Mercy,” saith the Altar, “is found only in shadow.”

“Mercy,” saith the Altar, “is found only in shadow.”

“Mercy,” saith the Altar, “is found only in shadow.”

…

Iruka wakes gasping, not realizing that he’d fallen asleep. He pats his lap for the scroll Naruto had brought him, and startles as he realizes that it’s not there. It—It had been there just, just a little while ago, hadn’t it???

“Mercy is found only in shadow,” he mutters to himself, looking around his room. “Mercy is found… There!” The scroll, the one with the Uzumaki clan seal, is rolled up and tucked neatly away on a table on the far end of the room. Iruka gathers his strength and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

He tries to stand.

And fails.

He catches himself on hands and knees, and then feels his elbows weaken and give way. His cheek hits the tile and he hisses. He tries to push up again, but can’t…

Can’t…

…

The Altar holds a spark.

Freol is the mouth, the door, the flame, the altar, and the reward.

Knife and sword shed blood for Freol; what is spilled is hers. Fires burn for Freol; what is consumed is hers.

~

“Iruka! Iruka, please, wake up!”

“The breath of Freol brings change and endings,” Iruka slurs, barely awake and compelled. He can’t stop, can’t stop, can’t speak anything other than this ancient language. “‘Mercy,’ saith the Altar, ‘is found only in shadow.’ Let those who gather near Freol be blessed and cursed. Mercy is found only in shadow. Mercy—”

“Naruto, tell me Sasuke has gotten back to us.”

“He hasn’t! And-and Kurama has no idea what Iru-nii’s saying, either!”

Kakashi shakes him, taps his cheek. “Iruka, come back, please.”

Iruka tries to say I’m sorry Kakashi but what passes his lips is a murmured, “‘Mercy,’ saith the Altar, ‘is found only in shadow.’”

~

Sakura stands in front of him solemnly. “We gave him a high enough dose of tranquilizer that he shouldn’t even dream, Kakashi-sensei. My team—”

Kakashi holds up a hand to stop her from speaking. He knows he doesn’t look good, knows he hasn’t been home in over forty-eight hours, but he can’t… he can’t stop. Iruka… “What about the scroll that was in his room?”

“Naruto said Iruka-sensei had him collect it from his home office,” Sakura says. “But no one can read it. We have been able to determine that it’s in the same language as the carvings he transcribed from his back, though.”

Kakashi looks up. “The cavern he and his team had been in—where were they?”

Sakura turns to the map hanging up in his office, and points, “East of here, near a village on the coast. Naruto mentioned—”

“The scroll is from Uzushio,” Kakashi muses, “and it has an Uzumaki clan seal on it. I’ll bet we’ll find more information about all this in the ruins of Uzushio.”

Sakura nods. “But Kakashi-sensei, you can’t—”

“I know.” He sighs. “Take Naruto and go. Find out what’s causing this. Find out how to fix it.”

She nods again and turns to leave.

“Sakura,” he calls out, softer. She stops, but doesn’t turn back to face him. That’s good; he might not be able to say this to her face. “This part comes not from your Hokage, but from me, personally. Please. He’s… Iruka’s everything. Please, find something.”

She gives him a thumbs-up over her shoulder, and says, “We won’t let you down, sensei.”

~

Kakashi watches from the windows as the nurses check Iruka’s vitals and change out his fluids. She bows to him when she’s done and then turns to leave; Kakashi holds up a palm and says, “Wait.”

“Hokage-sama?”

“How… How is he?”

She smiles softly, gently. “We’re taking good care of him, sir.”

“That’s all Sakura told you to tell me, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Hokage-sama.”

He sighs. “Thank you. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Her smile turns just the tiniest bit mischievous. “A higher budget for the hospital in the next fiscal quarter wouldn’t be remiss, Hokage-sama.”

He waves her away, “I’ll see what I can do,” he says with as much humor as he can muster. She leaves, and he goes to sit in his chair by Iruka’s side.

They had to intubate him today. Kakashi couldn’t get away from the desk long enough to be here for him; not that it mattered, because they were keeping him sedated even before shoving a tube down his throat. But it matters to Kakashi because he can’t…

He can’t do anything.

He’s stuck here, managing the village, while his students are out looking for answers to whatever mysterious illness his partner has fallen to. And all he’s good for is holding Iruka’s hand, and maybe going and lobbying for an increase in the hospital budget.

His hair is limp and matted from long weeks in the hospital. Kakashi runs his fingers through the ends of brunet strands and hopes that, when Iruka wakes up, he’ll let Kakashi wash his hair.

“Please get better,” Kakashi murmurs into the clasp of their hands. “I need you. Please.”

~

“Sakura-chan.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m getting real sick of goddesses thinking they can ruin everything, y’know?”

“Yeah.”

Mercy is found only in shadow.

~

“He needs another blood transfusion.”

“Take mine,” Kakashi offers. “We have the same blood type.”

“Hokage-sama—”

“Just take the damn blood,” Kakashi snaps. “Whatever he needs, please, just. Just do it. Take it.”

The nurses bow. “Yes, sir.”

Footsteps in the hall, rapidly approaching, signal Kakashi to a messenger. He stands up and crosses to the door just as Shikamaru slides it open, panting from his run.

Shikamaru turns to the nurses and says, “He needs a bone marrow transplant.”

The nurse looks at him, startled, and says, “Whyever for?”

“Naruto sent ahead a messenger.” Shikamaru glances at Kakashi and finally catches his breath. “The one word Iruka-sensei had said, Freol? It’s the name of an ancient deity of the Land of Whirlpools, one whose purview is to change its followers. One of the ways it does this, as Sakura describes it, is through a kind of radiation poisoning.”

“But that doesn’t explain the,” Kakashi gestures vaguely, and then ends helplessly, “speaking in tongues.”

“The message said they’ll explain that part when they get home,” Shikamaru says. “Naruto and Sakura are on their way back, arrival is estimated at thirty-one hours.” He turns to the nurse. “Can we perform a transplant?”

She hums thoughtfully. “Normally, I’d say yes. But Iruka-sensei doesn’t have any close blood relatives, and if his own marrow is compromised as you say we can’t assume an autologous transplant will be effective.”

Kakashi’s heart stops. “But—”

“But,” the nurse continues, “we can start him on a treatment regimen which will increase his white blood cell count. We’ll start checking in with frequent blood tests. We can also start on a broad-spectrum heavy metals sequestration; we’ll cover Iodine, thallium, caesium, plutonium, and curium. They’re the most common.”

Kakashi motions to her, and says to Shikamaru, “She’s my favorite.”

“You shouldn’t have favorites, Kakashi-sama.”

He groans. The nurse smiles and says, “I’ll go order those tests and treatments,” and then ducks around Shikamaru and leaves.

~

Kakashi holds the scroll open on his desk, reading the translation Sakura and Naruto brought back. It’s a puzzle in its own right, but coupled with the Uzumaki scroll Iruka had kept in their office, Kakashi finds himself even more thoroughly confused.

“I understand how you came to the conclusion of radiation,” he says. “But I don’t understand how this is supposed to explain why Iruka began speaking the language. Because that is what happened, isn’t it?”

“That’s where a little bit of Iruka-sensei knowledge comes in handy,” Naruto says. He steps forward and points to a line near the bottom. “‘Many others can open the way. Few can place a seal where there was none before.’ And then I remembered this one, off-hand comment Iruka-sensei had made when we were kids. That the people from Uzushio were really good with fūinjutsu.”

“And that has to do with Iruka?”

“Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto groans, like he’s the genius and Kakashi is being deliberately stupid. “Umino is an Uzushio family! ‘Few can place a seal where there was none before’! I’ve seen him do that, just, poof, barrier seals.”

“Naruto, I know he’s from Uzushio. What does that have to do with his condition?”

“Freol,” Sakura says. “When he and the other chūnin got close to that cave. She recognized him as one of hers and marked him.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because the same thing happened to Naruto when we got close.”

Kakashi stands up, vaults over the desk and puts his hands on Naruto’s shoulders. “You’re alright?”

“Kurama beat her up and kept me safe,” Naruto nodded. “But I could hear her. She said something like, ‘the flames will consume, or change, or seal at my whim.’ She was angry.”

Kakashi sighs and drops his hands. “And even Kurama doesn’t recognize this goddess?”

“Actually, once they came into contact, he did recognize her,” Naruto says. “Freol was a protector of the Land of Whirlpools, he says, a creator of soldiers superior to ninja.”

“Superior?”

Sakura interjects, motioning back to the scrolls on his desk. “Right here, see. ‘Hers is the flame which hides in the flesh and the soul and twists both into something new.’ But also, this line, ‘What is left behind is Changed, and may Change others in turn.’”

“Kurama was able to tell us about Uzushio as it once was, back in the warring states,” Naruto continues. “That there would be those who would willingly sacrifice themselves to Freol, for the chance to Change into something more. Something different.”

“A superior soldier,” Kakashi muses. “And this Change. This is what’s happening to Iruka.”

Both of them nodded. “That’s what we think.”

“How do we stop it?”

“That’s the thing,” Sakura’s face falls. “I don’t think there’s a way to stop the process once it starts. Freol marks those she wishes to undergo the Change, and then… Well, all of the writings we managed to find say that the sacrifices either come out stronger, or their families seal their bodies into stasis, or—”

She stops, choking on tears she fights back with every bit of training she’d gone through.

“Or they die,” Kakashi finishes in a soft, defeated voice.

All three of them stand silent in the office for a long time.

~

Kakashi finds himself sleeping in Iruka’s hospital room most nights. The treatment is hell on his partner’s body—the windows are covered with heavy curtains now, to keep out the sunlight which could very easily burn his skin on the medication; hair which was once limp and matted is now starting to fall out every time Kakashi pulls a brush through it; his lips are chapped and broken around the tube, his skin dry and thin everywhere else. The nurses had to change his IV from his arm to the back of his hand today, because the veins in his arm are becoming too thin to support the needle.

He’s dying.

Iruka’s dying, and all Kakashi can do is hold his hand and watch.

And, gods, the last thing they said to each other… Iruka was speaking a different language and Kakashi was begging him to wake up.

Will he really have to watch Iruka die, knowing that he’ll never get to hear I love you from those lips again?

Kakashi buries his face in his arms, carefully arranged over Iruka’s thigh. He used to have such thick, muscular thighs; it’s barely skin and bone now.

Alone, with only his dying partner to hear—or not—Kakashi lets himself cry.

~

“I’m going to try something.”

“Naruto, please—”

“No. Kakashi-sensei, Iru-nii is strong. And Freol won’t pursue him if he goes through the Change, right?”

“There’s no guarantee of that.”

“He’ll be stronger, just like the other sacrifices who survived. Kakashi-sensei, all Iru-nii needs to do is survive.”

“The Change—”

“We’ll deal with it when we’re on the other side of this!”

Naruto places his hands on Iruka, and the Nine-Tail’s Cloak bubbles up around him.

The monitors, registering Iruka’s nervous system, don’t react. He’s in no further pain.

Kakashi feels the tiniest bit lighter. “I hope this works, Naruto.”

“It was Kurama’s idea,” the teen grins. “He remembered that normal healing jutsu wasn’t working before; but he was able to beat back Freol himself when she came after me. So letting Iru-nii use Kurama’s chakra as a kind of life support—it should keep Freol from making this worse at least, right? While he gets better?”

It doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t work.

But it does.

~

Almost a week later, the nurses are removing the tubes from his throat, and Kakashi is pacing the room waiting for the tranquilizers to wear off. Iruka should wake up any minute now. Naruto’s plan worked. Iruka made it through, and his most recent blood test showed no abnormalities due to radiation. They stopped the heavy metal sequestration yesterday, but the white blood cell proteins will continue for a few days still, to help prevent further infection.

They still don’t know what kind of change Iruka’s undergone. At least, other than the physical.

His hair is gone. Sakura has assured Kakashi that it will grow back. It’s so odd, though, seeing his partner without hair. They’ve put a cap on his head to keep him warm—his body temperature has been fluctuating oddly the last day and a half, and in particular today he’s running cold.

Also, his scent has changed. He hasn’t told anyone about it yet, but Iruka smells different. Less like old parchment and a swift river, and more like… like a waterfall and the deep, loamy scent of rich, black earth. It’s not a bad change. But it’s significant. He’s already taken an overnight to summon the pack and have his ninken memorize Iruka’s new scent, just in case it’s permanent.

“K’shi?”

He’s across the room in a flash, holding Iruka’s limp hand and holding back tears.

“I thought—”

“My K’shi,” Iruka slurs, turning his head to face him and closing his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

The tears fall anyway. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

Iruka hums. “L’ve you.”

He’s still on a considerable amount of pain medication, Kakashi realizes. He laughs wetly, leans forward and kisses Iruka’s forehead. “I love you, too. Rest, dear.”

“M’kay.”

And just like that, he is breathing slow and steady, his eyes close gently, and he is sleeping peacefully for the first time in months. Kakashi falls back into his chair with a huff and tips his head to the ceiling, still holding Iruka’s hand, and also, finally, finding an easy sleep.

#kakairu maze challenge 2021 #decoding ancient lost languages #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #KakaIru #my writing

[morkofday]

#10YearPromise - pingxie blabberings

bc i wasn’t able to answer these questions throughout the week (as i’ve been traveling around while being extremely busy), i decided to just collect all of my answers under one post! i never tire talking about pingxie so this was extremely enjoyable ♥ am also practicing some very shameless self promo in this so be prepared!

thank you for @laireshi​ for organizing this event (i take it’s you alone? am not sure, sorry for my laziness) and being amazing in general ^^ i won’t be able to join as i am still very busy and summer is always pure chaos for me, so i can only hope that other ppl have fun! if you are not aware of 10 Year Promise Pingxie Exchange, you can find the original announcement post here. join in if you have the time and inspiration ^^ 

and then to my answers which i will be placing under the cut bc i don’t want to flood anyone’s dash with me going bonkers over these two idiots. enjoy tho if you decide to read this :’D ♥

I. What made you ship pingxie?

Back when I got into Reboot bc of ZYL (as has happened to many ppl probably) and then saw stuff about pingxie once I started going through that drama’s tag on tumblr, my first thought about them was that they had to be a crack ship. The way Reboot portrays them as well as their actors and their huuuge age difference affected this a lot, and I was actually cackling at them bc all their moments in Reboot made me just go “oh, socialist brotherhood at its best” in my head. But then I finished watching Reboot’s 1st season (as the 2nd one wasn’t out yet) and started reading some fics. I learned more about them and the canon storyline. I learned how damn devoted they are to each other, and after that, many moments in Reboot gained new meaning in my eyes. So, I think what made me ship pingxie was a mix of Reboot (especially the hallucination moment where Xiaoge dies and Wu Xie loses it bc that’s my jam as I later on became to notice) and then the amazing fics I dug out during that time. After that the love grew stronger as I watched the other dramas, and these days I’m a lost cause. I feel like I spend most of my awake time thinking about these two and their love. They are amazing. I cry rivers for them.

II. Which pingxie version is your favorite?

After finding pingxie, I fell in love with them properly during TLT2. There is just something about that stage of their relationship for me, the stage where both of them are still very tentative about everything but they have deep down accepted that they’re tied now. Wu Xie is figuring out so many things, coming to terms with being betrayed by his uncle and slowly realizing that something bigger is going on behind the scenes. Meanwhile, Xiaoge is learning how to trust Wu Xie and how to accept that he cannot leave this naïve boy behind. It feels very fragile, and I have so many emotions about TLT2 bc of this. Xiaoge is so soft and feels very multilayered. Wu Xie is still his naïve self but is slowly gaining some sharper edges as he comes to face the cruel world. I like how Cheng Yi and Hou Minghao have portrayed this dynamic. Also, TLT2 is just very extra with all the pingxie scenes, who would be able to resist loving them? So, I have to admit that my favorite pingxie is these two, tho Ultimate Note comes very, very close.

III. What’s your favorite pingxie headcanon?

Headcanons are a bit hard for me as I don’t know enough of the canon. I have not read the novels so most of the story I’ve just patched together from all the bits I’ve read from somewhere (here, on twt, in fics) and through the scenes the dramas have shown me. I feel like the whole world is lowkey made of headcanons for me :’D But hmm, my favorite pingxie headcanon… I’d say there are two and then one bonus bc it’s more a Wu Xie related headcanon than just pingxie. The first one is that the pingxie confession happens after the Bronze Gate. It feels like the only moment when they’re both ready for such a thing. I’d say Xiaoge comes to realize his own feelings a lot earlier and he might tell something to unconscious Wu Xie before leaving for ten years, but he will not actually leave Wu Xie with such a burden. He doesn’t want to ask anything when it sounds like he doesn’t even believe that Wu Xie will be willing to wait for him, and I’d say that for him, his feelings are going to be fine even if Wu Xie never learns about them. He might even wish that Wu Xie never learns about them bc he’s not able to promise much as an immortal and amnesiac being (he outlives Wu Xie, most likely forgets him). For Wu Xie however, I’d say he needs time. He really is way too naïve and I’d say that he needs those ten years to realize that he’s in love with his best friend. I dunno who confesses first after Xiaoge returns but I think that only after that decade their relationship is “mature” enough to hold the weight of a confession (even if I also love to play around with the thought of them getting together during the events of Ultimate Note bc that drama offered many good chances for that). Another headcanon for me is that Xiaoge will find a way to die when Wu Xie does. After learning about them more, I feel like Reboot implies this too. Xiaoge is very accepting of Wu Xie’s death but in the last moments, when he really thinks that this is going to be it for Wu Xie, he hesitates. We see a spark of desperation there, and I’ve come to think that his initial plan, the plan he came up with once he got that call from Wu Xie and knew he would join Wu Xie on his last adventure, was to see this through for Wu Xie’s sake and then leave and die alone. I don’t know how much there would be left for Zhang Qiling after Wu Xie is gone. I feel like this is also what Wu Xie fears. But would he really resent Xiaoge for joining him in death after living such a long and hard life? I’d say no and I’d say that even Pangzi accepts this as one of the most likely outcomes. The bonus one then feels very personal to me. I don’t usually talk about this bc I feel so unsure of even mentioning this but I’ve seen others with similar thoughts so am sharing! I’ve never before gotten any vibes about a character’s sexuality in a drama I’ve watched but Reboot Wu Xie looked at me once in the eye and all I could hear was my brain yelling “asexual”. So, that is just my personal headcanon for Wu Xie. He’s ace and proud of it. He can flirt etc. but sex makes him go naah. He doesn’t need it or want it. He can appreciate beauty and hot ppl without wanting to sleep with them and I think his relationship with Xiaoge fits very well into this. I don’t have any personal experiences with being ace but I feel like Wu Xie has read the name once, shrugged and gone, “guess that’s me” and continued on with his life. He’s badass like that and I love him for it. (take a very relevant meme lol from this post)

IV. What’s the ideal pingxie date?

Ah, christ. I dunno if I’ve ever thought about them going on a date? In the middle of tomb raiding, hospital trips and fighting against powers bigger than themselves, I’ve rarely seen any time for them to do something like that lol. But after Ultimate Note, I’ve thought about star gazing a lot. Just them, the infinite night sky and some lonely hilltop. They would probably take a blanket with them, huddle together and talk about things in hushed voices. Wu Xie would go on a ramble about all the constellations and their meanings and mythology behind them and Xiaoge would just nod at him and watch Wu Xie talking. Maybe he would offer some tidbits in the middle of the rambling, making Wu Xie smile brightly. It would be relaxing and comfortable and loving. They would make out a lil bit. Would maybe lie down and play with each other’s hair. All their worries would feel insignificant. Wu Xie would fall asleep for a moment and Xiaoge would wake him up with a kiss to get him moving again so that they don’t need to sleep on the cold ground. They would return home and drink something warm and then go to sleep, cuddled together and happy. relevant edit x

V. What’s your favorite pingxie getting together scenario?

I guess I already talked about this a bit but let me elaborate then! As said, I’d see it happening after the Bronze Gate. I am not sure if it would be right away (they’re both going through so much trauma at that point) or if it would happen after Reboot (maybe we would still need Wu Xie almost dying for them to get their shit together), but I’d say it happens in a rush either way. It’s one of those “I have to tell you something before it’s too late” -type of moments. Or one of those “Bc I love you, you idiot!” -type of moments. I feel like I keep thinking that maybe Wu Xie would have to confess first bc as said, Xiaoge wouldn’t like to burden Wu Xie with his feelings when there’s so little he can give in the sense of normalcy. But then again, I have written a oneshot where Xiaoge is the first one to confess and that always feels better for me. That at some point Xiaoge feels secure enough to tell Wu Xie about his own feelings. That he feels confident and comfortable enough to say it out loud while still expecting nothing in return bc he knows that Wu Xie won’t abandon him either way. But no matter how that happens, I always see it as this dam breaking. The emotions finally become too strong. Something happens that reminds them that life is too short. Something happens that makes them finally talk it out and ah, Pangzi can finally take a break, what a joy

VI. What’s your favorite pingxie moment?

Every adaptation has its own good moments so let me make a list (like I saw someone else do too):

The Lost Tomb:

Xiaoge rescues Wu Xie from the shibie

Wu Xie worrying over unconscious Xiaoge plus taking care of him in the hotel room

The Pingxie MomentTM aka Xiaoge saving Wu Xie from falling and then cradling the boy to his chest while thumb rubbing his shoulder

The Lost Tomb 2:

Xiaoge revealed to be Baldie and Wu Xie yelling at him about it

Lowkey the whole underwater tomb arc bc holy shit that’s gay

Wu Xie losing it when Xiaoge doesn’t come up from the underwater tomb, diving after him and then almost dying himself + Pangzi getting angry at him for being stupid

pingxie ft. magical skype in the bronze tree cave (and Xiaoge being emo about the 1000yo warrior guy right before that)

Xiaoge rescuing Wu Xie from drowning (they shared air, you cannot convince me otherwise) + Wu Xie giving Xiaoge his watch in the hospital (relevant edits x x)

Wu Xie’s face when he sees Zhang Buxun in the coffin bc I love pain :)

Xiaoge not shooting Wu Xie despite not remembering him in the mountain village

Wu Xie grabbing Xiaoge’s jacket after being kidnapped and the Iron Triangle reunites in that old Chen guy’s cabin, asking, “Is that you?” from Xiaoge to make sure that he remembers again while looking like the biggest puppy (relevant edit x)

also some relevant memes x

Ultimate Note:

The hand over mouth reunion in the Golmud Sanatorium

“Xiaoge will ignore anyone else but you”

Xiaoge pretending he isn’t Losing ItTM throughout the whole time Wu Xie is in the Devil’s City with A-Ning

more hand over mouth with the gigantic snake

“The goddess has ascended”

Wu Xie protecting Xiaoge after he returns from the jade meteorite 

“Do you remember me?” “Wu Xie.”

Wu Xie promising to help Xiaoge find his memories no matter what bc Xiaoge’s business is Wu Xie’s business 

“Maybe you can return home with a wife today.” Wu Xie: proceeds to stare at Xiaoge, horrified

“Take me home.”

The sword gifting scene (especially Xiaoge denying the possibility of him killing Wu Xie or them harming each other, relevant edits x x)

other relevant edits for ultimate note x x

Reboot:

Wu Xie telling Xiaoge about his sickness and then Xiaoge coming back and promising to join Wu Xie on his trip (relevant edit x)

the death hallucination bc am a masochist 

Wu Xie’s death dream where Xiaoge calls to him but then accepts his choice to move forward bc am a masochist pt. 2

pingxie reunion in the Thunder City forest where Xiaoge saves Wu Xie & co. from the poisonous gas 

the moment in Thunder City where Wu Xie sits outside at night, eating the peanuts Pangzi gave him and then notices Xiaoge, offering him the peanuts and smiling 

when Xiaoge leaves for the last time and then gets reunited with healed Wu Xie against all odds

the train scene and their softest smiles to each other  

Time Raiders:

Wu Xie being the best bean and just wanting to befriend this mysterious man while seeing right under his skin and making Xiaoge baffled and fall in love in approximately 0.5 seconds

Xiaoge, catch! *proceeds to save only Wu Xie when they fall into that shibie horror chamber*  

Xiaoge’s desperation to save Wu Xie from the crumbling ground 

their death waltz at the end of the movie plus Xiaoge’s sacrifice

+ Sand Sea: 

“Don’t you dare call him Xiaoge!” 

Wu Xie offering his friends and then himself as comfort to Li Cu when he’s scared while smiling very softly at the memory of Xiaoge 

“But isn’t his surname Wu?” Hei Xiazi: You have seen nothing yet, you sweet summer child

Wu Xie talking about Xiaoge’s past in the temple (aka the Tibetan Sea Flower story bc I just adore how pretty they’ve made those scenes) 

VII. What is the best gift Wu Xie and Xiaoge could give each other?

I haven’t really thought about this type of stuff either bc we have already seen a ton of gifts being exchanged! I love the watch Wu Xie gives to Xiaoge in TLT2 as mentioned (it’s so silly but also so sweet) and I love it that Wu Xie gifts Xiaoge with a new sword in Ultimate Note. Also, I feel like I can count the food Wu Xie leaves for Xiaoge in Ultimate Note and that one moment where Xiaoge offers his knife for Wu Xie as a “pen”. They would give anything for each other as long as the other asked (which they never do) so I dunno what type of gift would matter the most. As it’s so hard to say, let me talk about one more headcanon that I’ve been thinking about ever since the infamous Bazaar photoshoot for Ultimate Note/XYL & ZSX. So, we see them having matching rings and necklaces in that photoshoot. I think jewelry would be kind of difficult for Xiaoge to wear when he needs to fight, as jewelry could be a hindrance in that type of situation But my brain won’t shut up about “pingxie married!!!” when I ask this question from it. To be honest, I do not see pingxie getting married in the traditional sense. They don’t need something like that after everything they’ve gone through. But I like to play around with the thought of promise rings. Just them exchanging rings for fun, for their own sakes, to have something concrete that reminds them of their promise to each other and of their feelings. Maybe even Xiaoge could wear that ring under his gloves idk. But am a sucker for that thought so my answer to this is then simply: a ring. relevant edits x x

if you read this far, thank you so much! I hope this gave you something and thank you once more for organizing this and allowing everyone to share their love for pingxie ^^ ♥

#10yearpromise #pingxie #dmbj #yes i ramble without any purpose #yes i love them a normal amount :) #thank you for organizing this!! #and sorry for coming at you like this #i hope you don't mind #am wishing you luck with the event!! #and hoping everyone has fun #i hope everything in this post #works like it's supposed to #bc oh boy did i struggle

[taeescript]

IV. Script of the Angel (m)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 >> This is the story of three very different people. A successful novelist, a blossoming artist and a dedicated cop. They seem to have nothing in common. Yet, they are continually drawn to each other. It is as if their fates have been intertwined. Written. That they must meet.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> ft. jungkook and jimin primarily.

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 >> policeman!jimin, author!jungkook, painter!reader, serialkiller!XXX; a classic game of cat and mouse

𝔴/𝔠 >> 9.1k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 >> mature themes depicted. due to the explicit nature of the topic (serial killers, murders, violence, sexual content, infidelity etc.) this is rated 18+. to spare storytelling: please consider yourself warned. sexual content present. 

𝔞/𝔫 >> another long chapter. sorry! the oc is as opposite to me as day is to night, but i have always enjoyed writing characters who are different. i feel like i’m being challenged to expand my own writing skills. as always, enjoy (: feedback and comments always appreciated. (i am curious: do you prefer long or short chapters?) 

previous part || masterlist || next part 

The taxi arrives much earlier than any of you anticipate. Jungkook is halfway through telling you about the unfortunate event of being kicked out of his rented room when the annoyed-looking driver quickly shoves you both inside. He asks you where you are headed. You lean forward and give him the address of your house. The driver mutters how the drive is less than five minutes away, but he accepts the job nevertheless. “How about you, Sir?” the driver asks Jungkook. Jungkook is at a loss of words until you intercede. “Same place,” you say. Jungkook gives you a confused look. “You said you don’t have any place to stay tonight so I’m extending an offer. Also, sort of like a thank you for finding and staying with me through this storm.” Your words come out much shyer than you had anticipated. He gives you a slight smile. “Are you sure it’s wise for you to invite a stranger to your house?” You blush. “You’re not really a stranger.” “Ah, I’m not? Well I’m a suspect to a murder case.” “No, you’re not! Jimin was only talking to you as a witness.” “A witness? He seemed a little too hostile for that.” As the conversation had carried on, you didn’t notice how close he became until you turned to come face to face with him. The small smile he always has continues to linger on his lips. You pull back and turn to hide the flush on your face that you know for sure is present. Once the heat seems to have left, you glance at him again. He is still regarding you with curiosity. Extending a hand towards him you say, “$10 per night. I’ll be your landlady and you’re renting a room from me.” He laughs and you can’t help but stare with wonder at how white and straight his teeth are.

...

The Body is a miraculous item of study. Inside, we have these little chemical messengers that act on receptors to tell us: wake! At the same time, they tell us: sleep! Just what are these chemical messengers that run around us like tiny men in a sleep-wake factory? First, when we are getting ready to sleep, Melatonin is produced in the pineal gland to send us a message telling us that it is time to enter slumber. Their levels increase as the level of darkness increases. Once our body is asleep, a surge of multiple hormones play a role. You have growth hormone from the pituitary gland telling (a child in particular) to grow and repair tissue; you have antidiuretic hormone (ADH) increasing so we don’t have to get up and pee in the middle of the night; you have oxytocin that may peak at about five hours of sleep influencing the content of our dreams. You wait nervously outside the bathroom door. You had both returned to your house and you had changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and a sleeveless top. Your hair was tied in a bun on your head; your scalp itching to remind you that it had been a while since you washed your hair. However, you had more pressing matters at hand. You had told Jungkook that he was allowed to use the shower first but after drinking one too many cups of water – your throat was so dry – you now desperately needed to use the washroom. The water is still running and you can slightly feel the heat escaping the warm room through the small crack of the door. It was ajar and the smell of your shampoo wafted out to meet your nose. It made you wonder if your shampoo had always been so sweet and inviting. As you are the only resident of the house, there had never been a need for multiple bathrooms and thus your only solution is to patiently wait outside until your guest is finished.  After what felt like five minutes but in actuality five seconds, you take a small peek into the bathroom. The glass shower door has been fogged up and you can only see a very hazy silhouette of its current occupant. If you were to dash in and release everything in your bladder at a fast enough speed, perhaps Jungkook would never notice that you would be in there. Just as long as you moved fast enough. You wanted to weigh the pros and cons of this decision but your bladder would not let your mind concentrate. Before you could control your body, you rush into the bathroom. Everything but the feeling of pleasure from the release of the buildup of pressure in your pelvis is forgotten. You close your eyes and let out a satisfied sigh. When you are finished, you deftly stand and flush the toilet. You momentarily lean over the toilet, reveling in the new weightlessness of your body, when the realization of the scenario you are in hits you. You had just walked into a man showering in your house. Not only that, you had used the toilet while he was washing up (naked) less than a feet away. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now, Jungkook would definitely see you in here. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now, Jungkook would think you are a peeping tom. If you really didn’t get out of the bathroom now – It is too late, however. You hear his voice from behind you, “Well, this is a surprise.” You turn as slowly as you can. Jungkook stands with the white towel around his waist. He does not look much different than when you had seen him drenched by the rain, but this time you are able to smell the masculine scent of body wash off of him. The first time in the rain, you had been unable to help yourself and glance at his defined abdominal muscles through his soaked shirt, but this time you choose not to peel your eyes away from the sight. The gulp you takes makes its way slowly down your throat. “I needed to use the toilet really badly,” you somehow managed to squeak. He tucks the end of the towel into the side all the while looking at you with a teasing smirk. You do not need to look in the mirror behind you to know the shade your face has turned. “I’ll be going now,” you murmur and turn to leave the room. “Without washing your hands?” he teases you. As if he now is not regarding you as a full out pervert, he probably thought you as unclean as well. You can’t remember what you say in response to that as you shuffle to the sink. The water is warm when it runs out of the faucet. Your mind is unfocused on the task in front of you as you can only think of ways to escape or talk your way out of this situation. “How are you supposed to wash any the germs away if you scrub like that?” You feel his voice vibrate along your back. You immediately tense up when his arms wrap from behind around you. His hands gently take your slimmer hands into his own and together they move through the lathering actions. He pumps the hand soap and his lips become dangerously close to your cheek when he reaches in front. “Clean between each finger and the side of your palm. People often forget to wash the area around the thumb and most of their less dominant hand,” he continues to lecture you. “Just be still,” the plea to your body and mind only being silently voiced out in desperation. There is no extra cloth to wipe your hands dry and so he uses the towel around his waist instead. Each action he does only made you become ever more anxious and self-conscious. When he seemed satisfied with you, he lets you walk away. You will your legs to maintain its strength as you take the steps needed to exit the small steamy room. You are stopped again when he says, “Are you always so innocent?” There is a part of you that wants to turn to look at him, but another part warns you that if you do, a larger temptation will face you. He strolls to stand before you. His eyes slowly make their way from your toes to the top of your forehead; then his gaze holds you steadily in place. You swallow again under his scrutiny. Taking a step towards you, he slides a finger under the strap of you tank top. The simple action makes you shiver. “Tell me, how long have you been living alone?” Your mind tells you not to answer him. What are you doing anyways? Just an hour ago you were thinking about Baekhyun and now you are being consumed by Jungkook. “How long has it been since you’ve been… touched?” his question comes out barely above a whisper – that is how close he is to you now. “I shouldn’t – ” you words are suffocated by his kiss. His lips mold until they wrap around yours. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you fall into him with such speed that it scares you. You feel both dread and thrill in your stomach. He tastes warm, that is the only thing your mind is capable of detecting. Other than that, your brain can not function and you feel yourself shiver in his embrace. You wonder if he has his eyes closed as well or if he was looking at you. Perhaps if you opened your eyes you would have an answer to your question yet you felt afraid of doing so. He pulls you waist closer to him and the dew on his chest seeps through your thin top. His skin is warm, but the now-cold water causes your nipples to become erect. He can feel them straining through the top, but rather than having his hand rise up to meet it, he slides his hand deeper into your pants. Your body tenses up at the invasion. “Relax,” the single word slurs as they are passed between your lips. The suggestion comes in the form of a command and your body strangely listens. With his hand, he forcefully grips the left cheek of your behind and roughly presses you lower body into his. The simultaneous sensation of pleasure and pain runs through your body. His other free hand brushes the nape of you neck. Your hands act of their own accord, and you find them running through his hair, all the while as he tugs on your lips; all the while that you become wrapped in his embrace. Your fingers become brushed with water, and you draw a wet finger down the middle of his back. It is his moan you hear this time, and the thrill rushes through your body again. For the next few moments, the two of you are captivated with exploring each other’s body. You think that he is about to lift your shirt off when instead his hand slips through the barrier created by your underwear. You freeze again. His lips leave yours and trace a pathway until he stands behind you, and your back is pressed tightly against his torso. All the while, his hand makes a crawling rotation until they rest on you lower abdominal. You place a shaking hand on top of this. You don’t even notice that your fingers have become icy cold. “Trust me,” he whispers into your ear. His voice is so low that you mind barely registers what he has said. You heart rises in speed in proportion to his hand that moves out from beneath yours and continually slides downward.

...

You wake with a beating heart. Your eyes fly open, and they are greeted with the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars you had placed on your ceiling. It had been a dream. Your breathing fights to become regular again, but the more you think about what you had awoken from, the more it loses in its battle. You know it is all a dream, but why was it then that you still feel the pressure on you lower abdominal? With a crack, your mind finally reels out of its stupor and a new burn in your stomach causes you to flush again. The act of sex is not foreign to you. You had given that away to Baekhyun the night you realized you were truly in love with him – the night he had proposed to you. But that had happened a long time ago and since his disappearance, you had never given yourself to another man. The thought had never even passed through you. So why was it that you had these thoughts now? Towards a man that you had only just met? Also, how was it that he could make you do something like this? Your hand slides out from your underwear and the band’s near soundless snap practically hands you its embarrassing reality on a gold platter. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had touched yourself. The concept was always too taboo and awkward for you to embrace. You were also not a person that became aroused by sexual thoughts, yet a simple dream had made you lose control of your body. You wiped your hands on the bedsheets, and turn onto your side in bed so you would no longer feel the pressure of gravity on your already tense body. Jeon Jungkook. You only invited him at the spur of the moment. You had both returned home and wordlessly showered and got into bed. You had offered to make a simple meal but he had kindly rejected telling you that he was too tired. He had also jokingly told you not to worry about breakfast tomorrow as it was the least he could do in return for letting him sleep at your place. Continuing on, you told him that he was allowed to use your bedroom so he would be more comfortable but he had patted your small sofa instead. He always carried a pillow with him and told you he could fall asleep anywhere as long as he had it with him. You squeeze your eyes shut. Why? What was this? Who is this man that has barged into your safe house?

More importantly, what is he doing to you? You curl into a tighter ball and press your thighs closer together.

...

The scent of sweet in combination to savory fills your nose and sends a chill through your body. Your eyes remain closed, still infused with slumber but you bring the blanket closer to you. A small breeze sends another intoxicating spiral towards your nose. It smells like pancakes. Perhaps with a thick layer of maple syrup and a cube of butter. There is also something that reminds you of salt – bacon. Sizzling, warm, crunchy bacon. The distinct aroma of coffee is blended in there as well. Your curiosity gets the better of you and you open your eyes. You yelp. Jungkook nearly tips the coffee cup onto your drawer when the sound suddenly occurs. He looks down and sees your wide eyes staring up at him. He meets them but you quickly shift your pupils. You look… nervous. Seeing the unexpected visitor makes you remember the events of last night. Your palms start to sweat and you only draw the covers closer to your chest while sitting up. The corner of the sheet dips past your shoulder and he catches the flash of smooth skin. “Sorry to wake you,” he scratches his jaw embarrassedly, “I saw you were asleep and I promised breakfast. I thought I’d try to quietly slip in and leave it by your bedside.” You eye the said meal on your drawer and note that your nose had not lied to you. “It’s okay,” you try to say. However, your voice is groggy with sleep and so you clear it once. “It’s okay,” you say clearer this time, “But you really didn’t have to.” “It’s nothing. I’m an early riser anyways.” He makes a motion to leave. “Wait,” you call after him. He turns back to look at you. His gaze is piercing and the strange flush that never failed to make an appearance returns. “I’ll join you outside,” you tell him. Smiling, he nods. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

...

When you had left, Jimin had sat down at his desk feeling extremely dejected. He was supposed to protect you and make sure you never shed another tear. That was his promise to his best friend. Yet here he is, as the cause of your pain once again.

“Sir, the files you had requested.” Yoongi knocks on his door. As the youngest detective on the team, he is often coerced into doing the grunt work. But his tenacious and hard-working attitude gave him rise on Jimin’s list of people he respected. Jimin tilts his head to peer above the top of his cluttered desk. New files had been opened along with the scatter of older yellowing papers. His whiteboard is nearing a grey colour at the amount of times he has written things down and then erased them. Yoongi listens and is about to leave his senior alone but stops at the door. “Sir, if I may, will you allow me to make a comment?” the younger asks solemnly. Jimin turns to regard him. His eyesight blurs and he has to hold onto the corner of the desk to steady himself. Quickly masquerading the moment of weakness, he coughs and stands straight again. “You haven’t left the station in three days. You sleep at the desk and your back is in so much pain you shuffle to get coffee. It smells of Chinese take-out and stale pizza in here with another strange concoction of coffee and sweat.” Jimin raises an eyebrow at him. Yoongi clears his throat but does not waver in telling Jimin his mind. “Go home, Sir. You need some rest. The case will still be here when you return. It’ll also be of benefit when you return with refreshed eyes and mind.” Yoongi stands still all the while looking forward. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Jimin walking towards him. His mouth starts to become dry knowing the harsh words he will hear from the his senior for speaking out of place.

Jimin tiredly places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi rotates his head in surprise. Sighing, he says, “You’re right. My body is on the verge of breaking down.” He sniffs once. “And I do smell like shit.” 

Yoongi chuckles, both out of nervousness and relief. 

“I’m leaving the team in your hands then,” Jimin grabs his jacket from the coat hanger. 

“Me?” Yoongi says astonished, “What about Lieutenant Namjoon?” 

The laugh draws more strength from Jimin’s lungs than he anticipates. “I haven’t seen that guy for the past three days in the station, and both you and I know I’ve been living here. You’re young, but I like your attitude. The others like you too.” 

Yoongi cannot help but smile at the praise. He salutes as Jimin walks out the door. “I’ll do my absolute best!”

“I expect nothing less,” Jimin calls out and waves.

...

He had fully intended to walk home, but there are so many thoughts in his head he needed fresh air to wash out the stale one in his lungs and to clear out his mind. 

Sitting at the park just a block away from the station, he takes a small bite of the cookie he picked up from the station’s café. It is sickening sweet and he wonders how he had lived on these cookies when he used to pull all-nighters for previous cases. 

“I knew I’d find you here,” a voice interrupts his quiet. 

Jimin looks up and sees Namjoon smiling at him. Namjoon’s hair is swept back and he is sporting a white polo shirt along with khaki pants. His police jacket is slung over his arm and hides his badge within. At a quick glance, Namjoon looks like any normal civilian enjoying the autumn afternoon. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Jimin lazily greets his friend. 

Namjoon takes a seat beside Jimin. In one hand, he holds a brown paper back and this is what he extends towards Jimin. 

Taking a peek inside, Jimin notes a container that has some type of potato salad along with another stacked container with mixed rice. 

“Youngji told me to pass this to you,” Namjoon answers his unasked question, “We thought you could do without any more of the crappy station café food – full of MSG and sugar.” 

The smiling face of Namjoon’s soon-to-be wife enters Jimin’s vision at the mention of her name. The two had recently moved in together and there were days when Jimin felt envious when hearing about Namjoon brag about his fiancée’s skills in the kitchen. 

“Thanks,” Jimin says. 

“I’m not slacking on the job by the way,” Namjoon says.

“You’re not? I don’t recall seeing you in the office for the past couple of days.” 

“I got called into a meeting with the board of directors. They wanted an update on this Angel Killer.” 

“Angel Killer, huh? Quite original.” 

“Not my call on what we name the perps.” 

A lull in the conversation comes to as Jimin caves into the meal set before him. 

“Not a spinach and green bean casserole, I see,” Jimin jokes. 

Namjoon laughs. Starting from a few weeks before, Youngji had gone into a fascination in preparing green foods. The entire floor soon came to understand that Namjoon would be eating the same casserole for his next few meals. 

“I convinced her out of it,” Namjoon says with a grin, “Told her that she already spoils me with all her other cooking.” 

Jimin chuckles along with Namjoon. He digs his fork into the meal before him. The taste of food that did not come from a can is such a welcome sensation to his body he can’t help but sigh.

“Youngji’s a fantastic cook.” 

“One of the best.” 

“Well, here’s to you forever gaining weight.”

Namjoon comically nods and rubs his belly. 

“Well, Y/N’s a pretty good cook too. The pasta looked delicious the other day.”

At the mention of your name, Jimin falls quiet. 

“You know, I understand you better than you think. That look you have, Jimin. I can see that the case isn’t the only reason you’ve been trying to keep yourself busy and inside the station. We all saw Y/N leaving the station the other day.” 

“I guess that also means you all saw how upset I made her.” 

Namjoon takes an inhale followed by a slow exhale. “Stop me if I’m prying too much, but what happened?” 

Jimin takes an even deeper sigh. “She found out that I’m still looking into Baekhyun’s cases after all these years.” 

“Ah,” was Namjoon’s simple response. 

“I mean, I’m not doing anything wrong, am I? The reason I’ve never given up on finding the truth is to find some closure for myself. For her… For the both of us.” 

Jimin means the words he says, but when he hears them from his own mouth, it feels strange. 

“Well… what if closure for you doesn’t have the same definition for her?” 

Namjoon’s comment make Jimin tilt his head in confusion. “What do you mean?” he asks. 

Namjoon stretches out his legs in front of him. The park has quieted down as most of its visitors have returned to work after their lunch break. Only a couple of people still remain, but they are scattered so far around the park that none of their faces could be made out. 

“Closure for Park Jimin means to discover the truth. Closure for Y/N might be simply to accept that her fiancé’s gone. She was in so much pain when he disappeared and it took her forever to even leave the house. Her first steps out were because of you. The reason she has the strength to move on today is because you’ve constantly been by her side. Maybe the reason she’s been able to accept that Baekhyun’s no longer with her is because she sees that you’ve accepted it as well.” 

“She saw the files that indicate that perhaps Baekhyun was murdered.” 

Namjoon’s next sentence becomes lodged in his throat. He closes his mouth then opens it again but only to have it return to its previous state. At last when he finally finds what he wants, he says, “That complicates things, doesn’t it?” 

Jimin closes the food container and returns it back into the bag. In the time they had been talking, he found that he had lost his appetite. His two thumbs press against the sides of his temple and gently massage it in circles. 

Everybody knows how much Jimin cares for you; some even think that the extent of it is due to Jimin’s secret crush on you. But Namjoon knows the reason why. He can’t help but look at his colleague and friend with sadness. An ancient promise that causes anguish to those in its pact. 

Placing a warm hand on Jimin’s back, Namjoon leaves it there for comfort. “Is that what you believe? That Baekhyun is gone because he was murdered?” 

Jimin shakes his head. As if the thoughts in his brain could not get any more complicated, the simple question makes things worse. “I don’t know, Namjoon. I have absolutely no idea. I’ve been working this case for years now, but everything always comes up to a dead end. A part of me wants to believe that Baekhyun simply decided to walk out of his old life to start a new one and he’s alive somewhere out there. Yet another part, the detective part, can’t ignore the knowledge that maybe something bad did happen to him that night. That’s why he never returned.” 

“Did you uncover anything new?” 

“No. Not for that case.” 

Namjoon doesn’t say a word. He can sense something else in Jimin’s tone. He is unable to tell if Jimin says what is on his mind as the conversation is redirected. 

“What did the directors say about Sara Michel’s case? I’m assuming that’s why you went to meet with them.” 

This time it is Namjoon’s turn to furrow his brows. Namjoon had never truly wanted to become Lieutenant. Jimin knew that Namjoon had been offered the position because he first had turned down the offer. Namjoon never expressed any bitterness about it; no, instead he had said he had been thankful. Namjoon had always said how he wanted to become Lieutenant before asking Youngji’s hand in marriage. When they spoke, the only frustration Namjoon ever expressed was the unexpected amount of responsibilities that came with this new position.  

“They want to know if we have any new leads. As they say, if we don’t have anything by 24 hours, the case is as good as gone. If there really isn’t anything then they want us to wrap it up. File it as another unsolved case and focus on the new big project: the whole deal we’ve been working over at with the Narcotics Team.” 

“The drug related gang suicides, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“We can send a couple of guys over.”

“That’s the thing though. The Board doesn’t want a few guys. They want the entire team on board. Agent Hoseok’s barely keeping above the waves with this one. HR is breathing down his neck as apparently, some well-known powerful figure’s gone missing because of this.” 

“Guilty?” 

“Likely, but since he’s clearly an influential guy, the Missing Person’s unit might be dragged into it as well. His lawyers have also been stalking out at the station in case anything does come up. It’s going to set the whole station into turmoil.” 

Politics. Jimin hated it all. If someone was guilty, he believed that they should see the justice they deserved. 

“So what should I say to them?” 

“Huh?” 

“The Board. You’re the one who’s worked the Sara Michel case the most. What should I tell them about our progress so far?” 

Jimin bit the inside of his cheek. Progress… Did he have that? Perhaps, but at the end: speculations. That is what they are. He couldn’t take the chance. “Tell them we may have something. Try and deter them from trashing this case. Be ambiguous.” 

Namjoon waits to see if Jimin would further elaborate but the other doesn’t speak again. 

“Alright,” Namjoon says, “But you will keep me updated on whatever you find, right?” 

Jimin nods. 

Namjoon knows that the conversation is over so he stands. Stretching, he rolls his neck once and then follows it similarly with his shoulders. “I’m going to head back to the station. Go home. Get some rest.” 

“None of you want me at the station, huh? I stink it up too much?” 

This earns him a grin from Namjoon. “You’re the brightest mind we have on the team, Jimin. But right now it’s shutting down right in front of my eyes. Recharge it and return when you’re ready.” 

Jimin nods again and lifts a head to say goodbye. Then, he is left to his own thoughts once again.

...

She runs. Fast.

He looks down at the three words. They are the only things that fill his laptop screen after he hits enter. Writer’s block: something he didn’t quite enjoy. That was why he liked to move around so much when he writes. That, plus the fact that he can see his subject clearly. 

The girl is thin and wiry but the definition of hard deltoid muscles are outlined by the afternoon sun. He enjoys a challenge and she might be one. 

Dane observes her like the hunter might to his prey. He notes down everything - from the pathway she takes to the speed of her jogging. Everything is important. 

What a contrast she would serve compared to pretty Ms. Michel. Now, where should he display her this time?

Everything must be chosen so that it meets perfection. She is a prancing antelope that dances unknowingly for the lion. Man is an animal after all. We all belong in the Wilderness.

His eyes look up from his script and watches as the girl stretches once she reaches the bench. She is bent over to catch her breath and she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. A small device is wrapped around her arm and she touches it to presumably change the song. Her black and blue leggings contrast with her lighter skin. Once she has rested enough, she jogs a couple of times in place before going forward and then turning the corner out of his sight. 

So pretty and elegant. He wants to wrap his arms around her, and feel her pulse between his fingers. He wants to make her into his next angel. 

Dane is patient. He is willing to wait until the right opportunity. He will see to it. Unwritten.

This is the third time at the park, but each day that he has arrived, she is also there. He did not need to be a rocket scientist to know that this must be her daily route. Soon, he will be able to continue on his story.

...

Jimin could not understand why, but after that day with Namjoon at the park, he found himself returning to it quite often. He would make excuses to grab a coffee, but would then find himself wandering back to the bench. He enjoyed the quietness the small area offered. It allowed him to gather his thoughts in peace before returning to the hectic environment of the station. 

After allocating time spent of sitting silently under the warmth of the sun, Jimin finally stands. The park is much quieter now as the remaining people have also left. He gathers the brown bag with leftovers from the local bistro and starts stretching his legs. From the corner of his eye, he notices that somebody is running. 

There is not enough time for him to get out of her way and she crashes into him the moment she turns the corner. The impact is not great and she merely stumbles back in shock. 

“I’m so sorry,” he bows in apology. 

She is out of breath but she shakes her head and bows as well. “No, it’s my fault! I’m sorry I didn’t see you!” 

He waves it away and they share another awkward laugh before the girl in the black and blue leggings smiles and continues on her route. 

Bending to pick up the brown bag he has dropped on impact, somebody else captures his attention. That person is someone he cannot seem to forget and even this slightest sight of him causes Jimin to scowl. 

He is able to recognize that jacket from anywhere – that grey jacket this man wore the day he walked into the police station. He is currently sitting on a bench nearly halfway across the park. Jimin shouldn’t have been able make out any facial features at his distance, but he swears that the man’s eye follow a runner down the path.  

The other man seems engrossed with something on his laptop. His eyes never seem to leave the screen and Jimin is unable to tell whether Jungkook is typing or whether he is watching some type of video. Regardless of what he is doing, Jimin has already decided that it is not good. 

About to walk up to him, Jimin suddenly stops in the midst. It is not because somebody else has bumped into him or that he is caught up in another thought. 

No. 

It is because he recognizes the second figure that appears from behind the first.

...

The previous writer’s block disappears as fast as it had appeared. His fingers are now flying across the keyboard as he continues to write the perfect plan. In fact, he is so captivated by the growing paragraphs that he does not notice when another figure appears from behind. 

“What are you doing?” your voice startles him. 

He whirls around and snaps his notebook shut. You stand behind with a slightly surprised expression on your face. He is able to tell because your large eyes are wider than usual, and your mouth makes a small “o”. 

Time had flown by so quickly that he had forgotten he was supposed to meet you at 1:00pm. Quickly checking his watch, he sees that the time is 12:50pm. 

“You’re here early,” he notes. Scooting over, he then pats the seat next to him. You timidly follow his instructions and sit down beside him. The scarf you wear loosens as the wind blows and you fix it once. 

“I was just in the area. Do you like croissants? I bypassed a popular bistro on the way here and bought us some.” You hand him the small box. “I know croissants are unexpected from a place like that, but I can promise you – they’re really good!”

Jungkook peeks in the box. Packaged in rows, there is a set of treats in chocolate, strawberry cream cheese and plain. 

“Sets of three,” Jungkook mumbles. 

You look up at him. “Sorry?” 

He gives you a small laugh, yet minute as it is, it still makes your heart tumble. “A set of three. I like working in sets of three,” he tells you. Jungkook opts for the original.

You wait until he takes a bite before a smile breaks across you face. “Good, huh?” 

He nods, crumbs falling onto his laptop. He brushes them away before they can dirty it further.

“What did you want to meet me for?” he asks you. 

From the strangely shaped bag you had brought with you, you take out a wooden stand and a large piece of rolled paper. He watches as you set up you easel and clips the paper to the side. It is blank. 

“I come here often to paint,” you explain as you take out another small bag that is filled with sketching tools, “I think it’s so beautiful here.” You don’t add that you had chosen this place because when Baekhyun first disappeared, this was the closest you could be to Jimin without actually bothering him at the station. 

“So you called me here to watch you paint?” 

“Sketch, actually. Today I’m here to sketch but in a couple of days I should be able to paint.” 

Jungkook leans back in his seat. He sees that a new light has taken over your eyes as you take everything from the park into memory. Your pencil twirls in your fingers. Another small gust of wind blows the scarf away from your neck. 

Over their time together, they had become so used to being in each other’s presence that you no longer shy away from him. There were moments when you would be reminded of the first night he stayed at your house, but believe you are not one to dwell in the past so you quickly forget it. At this moment, he is drawing the collar of your jacket up and fixing your scarf so that it would no longer loosen. 

While he is helping you, you continue to talk, “You know, ever since I saw you, a feeling has been itching at me. I kept thinking that before bumping into you at the station, I had seen you before! Now I know. You were the guy who thought I was a street artist!”

Jungkook’s fingers falter as he sets them back on his lap. He does not move. What was it you had just said?

“I was at the square near my studio that evening. It was particularly nice. I remember a small ensemble playing classical music too. You had been the one to knock over my canvas.” 

No. It was not him. 

“Wait. It wasn’t you. It was the lady you were with!” When you remember, you gasps. 

Jungkook turns when he hears you. There was not supposed to be a single person that could have remembered him with Sara that night. That was never part of the plan. When he turns his focus on you, there is a look of shock and realization. A fire begins to burn in his stomach. 

You hold your hand to your mouth. You can see that Jungkook is staring at you and the guilt eats away inside. You should have seen it coming. He was a handsome, intelligent and skilled man. He had showed up out of nowhere. He was also a stranger to the city. The two of you had met outside the station. Of course he could not be here simply because of work. 

He must have been here with his girlfriend. 

And they had bumped into you that night on their date. 

“Y/N, what is it?” Jungkook asks gently. 

You sets the pencil down on the easel. “That woman you were with… That’s your girlfriend, wasn’t it? Oh my god… if she were to know that you’re staying with me right now. She would probably think that I’m some girl who is trying to steal her boyfriend.” 

Your face only reddens more when Jungkook’s laughter echoes around the park. It lasts for quite a while and you do not know whether you are feeling humiliated or angry at him laughing at you. 

He catches his breath and smiles widely at you. “That wasn’t my girlfriend. She was someone I was meeting for the night.” 

“For a date?”

“No. For work.” 

You do not know why, but you breathe a sigh of relief. “Well, I also remember you liking my painting. Do you remember?” 

He gives you another smile. “Sorry, Y/N. I don’t.” 

Disappointment makes your chest ache. Never good at hiding your emotions, it makes him smile again when he sees the obvious frown. He places a hand over yours. “I’d still love a painting though, if that’s what you’re offering this time.” It is infectious, that is what his smile is. You take you hand away from beneath his and regard the quiet scenic park again. “Do you like this place? Should I paint something for you here?” 

He nods. “I’ll like anything you paint for me, Y/N.” 

You blush at the way he says it so matter-of-factly. Looking up, you scan the surroundings once again before a large shadow rushes towards you and grabs your wrist. 

You are hauled up to your feet roughly.

...

Seeing you so casually walking up to that man made him mad. But it wasn’t that which made him practically race across the park. No, it was the combination of him fixing your scarf, laughing with you and then taking your hand. He cannot allow such a thing to happen. 

“Jimin!” you yelp, the pain cutting through your wrist. It burns and you feel as if somebody had dug a knife into your skin to split your bones. 

Jimin has momentarily forgotten your disorder as he is blinded my rage. How dare Jungkook be sitting beside you like the two of you are friends? This man may be involved in a murder case. He may as well be the only suspect. 

“What are you doing here with him?” Jimin demands. 

You can barely get the words out – that is how tight Jimin is gripping your wrist and hurting you. 

Jungkook is still seated, but upon seeing your face turning bright red and perspiration beading your forehead, he stands. “Detective Park, I believe you are hurting Y/N.” 

His words are a cold splash of water on Jimin. He quickly releases you and you whimper while holding your wrist. He reaches towards you, but you draw back, closer to Jungkook. 

“I’m so sorry,” his apology is gushes, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

You rub your wrist. You know it is not broken, but the pain lingers still. You gingerly rotate it before shaking your head. “I’m fine. You took me by surprise though.” 

Seeing the discomfort in your eyes, Jimin instantly feels guilty. The first time he sees you after the fight and he manages to hurt you again. “What are you doing here?” he asks again. He wants to add “with him” but he did not think it was appropriate. 

“I was meeting Jungkook. I wanted to do some sketches for a painting.”

He hated your causal use of the name. He hated it with such a passion. 

“Detective Park, it’s been a while,” Jungkook extends a hand. 

Jimin clenches his jaw but grabs it and shakes it forcefully. “Mr. Jeon,” he says through his teeth. 

You can detect the hostility between the two men. You knew Jimin didn’t like Jungkook but you couldn’t see his reason why. Jungkook had only ever been nice to you. Really, Jungkook was one of the nicest people you know. 

“Why did you need to meet him to do sketches? I didn’t even know the two of you knew each other,” Jimin begins interrogating. 

You falter. You had been so caught up in the previous few days you had forgotten to tell him your new housemate. Truth be told, the whole situation is so unusual for the two of you because you would talk to each other nearly every day. 

“I’m temporarily living with her,” Jungkook says, unable to resist the temptation. He has already calculated and anticipated the change that would occur over Jimin’s face once he says those words. He knows that it would affect you more, but there is a type of satisfaction in seeing the rage that spreads over Jimin’s face.

It takes everything in his already weak power to hold his emotions in. Heat is already flowing to his face in which he could not control, but he could still stop the explosion of curses from leaving his mouth. 

Your mouth is opened ajar once again. All the worse scenarios are running through your head. 

Jungkook sheepishly rubs his neck. “Oh, this is awkward. I thought you had told him, Y/N. You two seemed so close.” 

Oh yes. It is absolutely delightful in seeing the impact of his words on Detective Park Jimin. 

“I – ” you start, “I didn’t get the chance to yet. Um, well… Jimin…. Jungkook is staying at my place for now. He has no other – ”

“We need to talk,” Jimin interrupts you. 

You open your mouth and close it again. “Okay,” you say timidly. You start to walk towards him. 

“Grab your things with you,” Jimin says sternly. 

You want to refute his words but there is a sort of silent anger you recognize. You send Jungkook an apologetic look before packing away your easel and paper. Jimin waits for you and you quickly whisper, “I’m sorry,” before going away. 

The two walk away like a father leading his disobedient daughter. Jungkook can only watch with amusement at the new turn of events.

...

“You’re living with him? You’re living with him? You’re living with him?!” You hear Jimin repeat the series of questions again. Your finger lightly taps your thigh and you note to yourself: the sixth time. That was the sixth time he asked the same question.

Jimin had thought for a long time on their walk to the station of what he could say. Countless words had been flying through his mind however he just couldn’t seem to find the correct ones to string together. That had led him to only repeat the one fact he is being faced with: You are living with Jungkook. 

You sigh. “Yes, Jimin, I’m living with him.” 

“How could you decide to do that without talking to me about it?” he explodes at last, “You barely know this guy and you invite him into your house? He’s a criminal. He’s a murderer.”

This makes you frown. Your eyebrows crease together and even your pretty face cannot hide the ugliness of your anger. “Park Jimin,” you start sternly with his name, “I don’t think it’s fair for you to make that assumption. I don’t even think you should be making that assumption.” 

“Still, the two of you are living together!”

You sigh again.

Jimin stops in the middle his pacing for a second to collect his thoughts. “Fine. But what makes you think you know him enough to decide whether or not my assumption is fair?” 

“Well, what makes you think you have enough power over me to stop who I’m living with?”

“I have a responsibility for you, Y/N! I don’t want you to get hurt. Jeon Jungkook is dangerous!”

“There you go again! Making another assumption! Why are you even saying this?”

“You know exactly why. It’s because – ”

“If you say that it’s because of your gut feeling I’m going to walk away right now.” 

He pauses. “I just know, alright? I have evidence against him.” 

“Show it to me, then.” 

Presently, the two of you are arguing inside Jimin’s office. The blinds have been drawn, but the glass door is definitely not enough to hide the increasing voices. Jimin rummages through the multitude of papers and files on his desk. His thoughts are once again jumbled. He is unable to think straight at the moment and it makes him forget where he has put the files in the first place. 

“You don’t have it, do you?” you accuse, “You just hate him. I don’t know what your reason is, but that’s mean. Jungkook is a good person. He takes care of me.” 

Your tone is filled with exasperation. You did not enjoy when things did not go your way. Neither did he. That is the reason why the two of you tend to avoid conflicts by not being involved in each other’s personal matters. This time, however, Jimin needs his stance to be known. 

“You’ve known this guy for what, two weeks? What do you mean ‘he takes care of you’? He barely even knows anything about you.” 

You do not bother to correct Jimin that it has in fact been less than that. “He’s taken care of me more than you have alright?” you stab him with the words. Your face flushes the moment they leave your mouth.

Jimin’s next words are so calm, they border on hostility. “More than I have, you say? Please, enlighten me.” 

“He… He supports me. He’s there for me when I need him. He’s… He’s…” With each stutter, you can feel yourself losing this fight. Pride and rage cloud your judgment, and nonetheless, you throw out your last attack, “He doesn’t try to convince me that my fiancée was murdered.” 

His eyes become hard. 

There are tears wavering in you eyes and you tell yourself not to blink such that they would not fall. “You tell me to try and move on after Baekhyun’s disappearance.  You tell me that it’s for my own good; all this pain and guilt and frustration at losing him… You’re just as guilty, Jimin. You’ve never put Baekhyun behind you and now you’re saying something as ludicrous as him being murdered. I won’t accept it.” 

He hates seeing you cry. He hates it so much. He hates it enough to contemplate easing up on your decision to live with this stranger.

No. 

Walking away from you, he digs through his jacket pocket and produces an extra set of keys. He had learned to carry this around with him since knowing you. He never knew when you needed to come by and borrow his house keys. 

“Take this,” he places the keys into you palm and curls your fingers around them, “When you’re done with this tantrum… or whatever this is, come home. I understand that Jeon Jungkook needs a place to live, so rent out your place to him. But I cannot have you staying alone with him. You are to live with me while he is an occupant there.” 

You scoff at him, incredulously. You grip the keys in your hand before slamming them soundly on his desk. 

“I am not a child,” you solemnly say, “You cannot control me like this. I am a free to make my own decisions, and I will do what I want.”

With that, you spin on your heels to exit the office. Your pulse is racing as you turn to face him again. You avoid looking directly at him but stare above past his forehead. You are afraid that if you see his expression, you would falter. 

“I respect your decision to not like Jungkook. But if that’s the case, and as Jungkook is living with me, you are free to never come by my place. We will not welcome a guest who only has the intent of unsound accusation.” 

You end the argument with that and stomps out the door.

...

Jungkook is waiting for you outside the station as you leave. You are so blinded by your emotions you nearly miss him until he grabs your wrist and causes you to yelp. 

Immediately, he retracts his hand. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes. 

You still want to yell at somebody, but Jimin’s injustice towards Jungkook stops you from screaming. You rub you wrist that is still sore from being grabbed previously. Adjusting the strap of your canvas on your back, you continue to walk forward.

“He’s so unfair,” you whisper.

Jungkook catches it. 

“Nobody ever asked him to look out for me. I would have been fine,” you say. 

“He cares for you,” Jungkook says gently. 

You do not want to hear the words. Still, it is not like you can ignore them once they’re heard. 

“He is worried. I am a stranger, and a man. Unfortunately, society has a stigma around single strange men who sneak up to a female to offer his phone while it is pouring rain in the middle of the night.” He tries to make a joke with you. Thankfully, it works as you lightly laugh. 

“Well, still. Jimin is being stubborn. He has prejudices against you; ones that have no basis.” 

“Let me guess. He thinks I’m dangerous. He thinks I might hurt you. With my involvement in his case, he might even think that I’m a suspect.” 

You do not want to answer. 

Jungkook stops you from walking. Your strides have been short but only increasing in speed. He is no longer sure if you even know where they are walking. With one hand still on your shoulder, he says with a soft voice, “He has every right to think so, Y/N. We have only started to get to know each other We both have secrets that we have yet to reveal to each other. Perhaps I am dangerous. Perhaps I may have the intent to hurt you.”

You look into his eyes which steadily hold you own. “But you won’t, right?” 

He smiles at you. “Of course not.” 

“Then that’s all that matters,” you say with resolution, “That’s what a relationship is built on. The slow accumulation of trust towards the other party. I don’t care if you have secrets, Jungkook. If you ever do want to share them, I will listen. But at the end, you don’t have to. I want to know you as you.”

He nods. Now with the rollercoaster of emotions within you coming to an end, you are able to see that the weather is beautiful that day. There is the soft melodious chirping of birds from all around you, and the streets are not busy as people have yet to be off work. A warm patch of heat is on your back as the sun greets you between the clouds.

Jungkook is quiet beside you for a while, until he says out of the blue, “Jimin really loves you.”

You whirl to regard him. “Jimin doesn’t love me. He is only tasked to look after me.”

His eyes soften when he looks at you again. He doesn’t follow up with anything, only turning his head back forward.

The speed of your heart’s beating rises slightly at his comment. You do not understand the purpose of him saying that. You do not understand what led to him to say such a thing.

“Jungkook,” you call out.

“Mhmm?”

“I still want to paint a picture for you. But I don’t think I can right now.”

“What do you mean?”

You had stopped walking beside him. He notices that and stops as well. When he finally turns to look at why you had stopped, he is greeted with the image of you standing with your wrist in the air. He sighs in concern and takes your wrist gently.

“Alright, let’s get you home,” he says kindly.

...

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