#lemme tell you when i read this story and my heart sank | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ironmandeficiency · 4 years

Text

our love will (never) end

pairing: dogma / reader

word count: 3414

summary: all you wanted was for dogma to come back home but you don’t recognize the broken man that comes off the ship coming straight from umbara.the next time he sees you, he doesn’t recognize you either.

warnings: implied canon typical violence, angst af, umbara happened, lemme know if smth was missed

a/n: don’t say i didn’t warn y’all. no beta just me drinkin’ my dumb bitch juice

you’d spent more than half your life around the clones, had become used to their presence since your mother was recruited to train them in combat. had even helped with the youngest ones when they were fresh from their tubes, washing the fluids from them before wrapping them in their first set of clothes. the clones had become your brothers and friends, and they were much better company than the longnecks that occupied tipoca city.

once you were old enough, you joined them in their training. you learned their battle techniques, the subtle languages they spoke without uttering a word, you were one of them.

that’s why the losses sustained at the battle of geonosis, the first true test on the training they spent their lives surrounded by, wounded you so deeply.

days after the battle you were able to weasel your way into the records kept by the longnecks. it took you nearly hours to finish scanning the holo list of numbers, and only seconds for the grief to thrum through your veins, to settle into your bones. so many of your friends were lost that day, many that you had given names to, and your shoulders were aching under the weight of a loss that substantial.

then they were assigned to generals, jedi that probably wouldn’t care about who they were as men, as living beings with hearts and minds and souls that were far more different than the origins of their creation led people to believe. kamino had never been so empty as it had been once battalions were formed and assignments given, thousands of soldiers being sent to war.

the solemn emptiness took some getting used to, as did the togruta jedi sent to kamino to oversee the functioning of the cloning facility. she was kind though, and none of the clones appeared afraid of her so she was okay in your book. the one thing that you had yet to get used to was the fear you’d see in the eyes of a clone before their first assignment.

even though this is what they were raised to do, was what they were told by the longnecks was their only purpose (it was banthashit and you never hesitated to express as much), there was still a residual fear because they had seen brothers come back from the battlefield. they also knew that not all of them returned to their battalions once they left the front lines.

this knowledge was common, and there were many secrets told to you by long dead men about things that would have gotten them into trouble with immeasurable consequences. things they did to pass the time, things that made them happy like singing or writing poetry. it didn’t take you long after bonding with the clones as a young child that you realized that you were different than them, that you were lucky to be able to play and smile and be a child.

you lamented this discovery to your mother once. all she said was that the soldiers were dealt a shit hand by the galaxy and that they were lucky to have you to make it better for them. then she would tell you bedtime stories and fairy tales she knew good and well that you would relay to your identical brothers young and old.

but these days, you weren’t allowed to show the clones that kindness, that silliness that you were able to have with your brothers all those years ago. you were an adult now, and as such you would soon be expected to aid in the training of the republic’s soldiers despite a lack of actual outside world experience. you hadn’t left kamino since you arrived here as a child and had never used your training in a real-life situation.

what if you failed them? what if you taught something wrong and it resulted in their CT number being the next to show up on the lists of casualties? you were quaking with fear at the trust being placed in you.

which is why you were sitting outside during the kind of downpour kamino was known for, each raindrop heavier than your heart. no bother was given to your sopping wet state nor to the fact you’d get sick from this.

then you were joined in the rain by a familiar form.

“your immune system isn’t made to withstand this weather for very long.” some would have thought him to be uncaring, even callous and dickish with his words, but not you. this was the way he showed he cared about you — very seldom with those exact words, and never in a way where someone he didn’t want to know could see that he cared.

your eyes flitted up to his before returning their focus on the crashing waves around you. “my heart wasn’t made to withstand you leaving me.”

he sank to the ground beside you, the sound of his breathing being heard once he removes his helmet and lays it down beside his sitting form. an arm finds itself around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, a gentle kiss being placed against your rain-slick temple.

his touch warms you from your nose to the tips of your toes in spite of the cold rain pouring down. it was something he was able to do effortlessly and it never failed to bring a smile to your face. “i’m never truly gone, cyare. you’ll always be able to find me no matter where i am in the galaxy.”

a gloved hand found your shaking ones, his thumb smoothing over the top of your hand in an attempt to quell the shaking. you squeeze it in thanks and let yourself be pulled into his lap by it, your face quick to nuzzle into his neck.

“promise me you’ll be safe, dogma.”

“of course, my love.”

when he joined the five-oh-first comms were as frequent as possible, and when you weren’t able to talk to him, your eyes would be glued to the casualty reports that made their way to kamino. his number was never among the most of the dead, thank the stars, and that knowledge would sustain you until he would finally have the chance to talk to you again.

it was late into the night cycle when your private channel beeped, signifying an incoming call from dogma.

“that last mission… it was rough, cyare. i’m sorry i couldn’t comm you sooner.”

“never apologize, i know it’s not easy out there.”

dogma could never grow tired of the way you were so patient for him, for the things he did day in and day out. it made what he was about to say even harder for him.

“this next mission isn’t going to have any free time, we’re being sent planetside on umbara within two rotations. i don’t know how long the planetary takeover will last, but there won’t be a moment where we’re not unconscious or fighting. i won’t be able to talk for a while, my light. please understand.” he sounded almost in tears, like there was a lump in his throat trying to keep the words from escaping, to keep from hurting you.

you didn’t like to hear him like that. your strong and brave dogma crippled by emotion was never a comforting experience, especially when you couldn’t hold him and guide him out of the dark spaces his mind crawled into.

“never feel guilty for doing your duty, for keeping your brothers safe. just be sure you come home to me when your duty is done.”

“i’ll always come home to you, i swear it.”

the longnecks were in a tizzy three days later, rambling about a defect on the front lines. the sounds of a panicked kaminiise was not a sound you thought you’d ever hear again after what happened on christophsis. you eavesdropped plenty but you could never catch a CT number or a planet or a battalion name which infuriated you to no end. it was time to check the most recent records to see if you could find something there.

the morning cycle was minutes from beginning when you made your way to an unrestricted holoscreen where several reports were pulled up. your eyes scanned the writing; there was the familiar list of the dead, several more numbers sending waves of grief to crash against your soul.

information about how three members of the five-oh-first defied orders and flew umbaran ships in a successful attempt to destroy the separatist ship giving supplies to the enemy, and the death of one of the troopers involved in the unsanctioned air raid, one ct-6969 — hardcase. another wave crashed against your weary heart and was beginning to turn your insides into a hurricane that kamino’s oceans could only dream of rivaling.

there were details about the botched execution of two clones who defied the aforementioned direct orders from a general pong krell, ct-27-5555 and ct-5597 — fives and jesse.

pong krell wasn’t dogma’s general, wasn’t the general of the boys in blue. that was anakin skywalker and dogma spoke highly of his jedi general the few times he was brought up in conversations. pong krell, even though you’d never had the displeasure of meeting the besalisk in person, knew of his reputation.

he was cruel and vicious, using the lives of those under his command as rungs on his own ladder of wartime success. many of the brothers you loved perished under his commands and his name was an eyesore.

most jarring was the depiction of how a clone shot general pong krell in the back, and how the clone’s sentence was to be decided upon once they arrived on kamino.

that meant one of three things: euthanization, reconditioning, and experimentation followed by one of the former options. none of them are by any means pleasant, but you hoped for that trooper’s sake that they were allowed peace no matter their offenses.

but now one question remained: who killed the jedi general? why was his CT number not mentioned in the files? you had to talk to dogma, to make sure he was safe, that he was finding healthy ways to grieve the loss of hardcase, to cope with everything this report says occurred on the shadow planet.

“i know you said you wouldn’t be able to talk while on umbara but i just read the reports sent to the longnecks. i’m scared and i need to hear your voice for a second, just a second, please.”

“i heard about hardcase,” you sniffled and swallowed your grief for one of your dearest friends in the name of supporting your beloved. “what him and jesse and fives did… the death of the jedi. please answer me, i need to know you’re okay.”

“you know i wouldn’t ask this of you any other time, but please give me something, tell me you’re alive! tell me you survived the carnage of pong krell!”

“dogma, answer me please! you’re scaring me!”

“ner kar’ta, please don’t make me add you to my remembrances. please, dogma, don’t make me do it…”

“dogma… ni kart’ayl darasuum.”

fitful sleep came with you clutching your commlink against your heart, tears falling like rain. there was a good chance that maybe he was mangled beyond recognition, or maybe they haven’t noticed he was missing yet. there had to be a reason dogma wasn’t on the list of the lost and why he hadn’t answered you.

then your commlink crackled you life. “who is this and how do you know dogma?”

did fate exist only to torment you? that’s what it felt like in this moment.

“i’m not answering any questions until you tell me where he is and how you found that commlink.”

logic told you that the person on the other end was indeed a clone, but your mind was too jumbled for you to recognize who it was. you had to clean up the mess your love left behind you and dogma, anything to keep him from punishment.

“the name’s fives, the comm was confiscated when we… when we had to court martial him for disobedience.”

disobedience? dogma? those words may start with the same letter but they couldn’t be more juxtaposed if the words themselves put effort into it. then your mind reminds you of details from that karking report and you suddenly feel like you had been tossed into the roaring waves below you.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!”

the arc trooper grew enraged in his grief, in the horrors of what he saw on umbara and the audacity you had to accuse him of hurting his brother. “he did it to himself! he did it to protect us all from that demagolka even though no one ordered him to! when no one had the courage to do it, not even rex!”

what did your cyare do? your heart was in denial of the ideas your brain supplied because now they were leading to the same place.

“was he the one that killed krell?”

silence.

“fives! was he the one to-“

“yes! kriff, it was him! he’s the one who did it!”

dogma remembers the besalik’s traitorous admission and the way he manipulated dogma for his own benefit, to divide his brothers enough to keep them from revealing his plan. the way he and the five-oh-first fired on their own brothers, how their own brothers fired on them. naive death caused by what dogma discovered was the blind loyalty he heard others talk about when it came to following orders.

he remembers the feeling of the bracers around his wrist as he was escorted to the laat, the nods from his brothers as they give him respect he isn’t sure he earned for killing the man who caused them so much suffering.

the only thing that his mind doesn’t bring to his attention is the commlink that was stripped from him when taken into the umbaran cell, the only means of communicating with you without taking immeasurable risk.

he’s halfway to kamino by the time his mind registers that it isn’t with him and it’s the first true fear he’s felt since he was led into the cell by his own brothers and krell revealing how he manipulated every last one of them.

his thoughts drifted to what would become of him once he returned to the planet he was born on, the planet where he met the only sunshine he had to speak of on the shadow planet that sealed his fate. he hopes to see you before he’s punished for his actions but that’s uncertain. there’s no guarantee that you’re going to know he was returning, even more so under the circumstances that he’s coming back under.

there’s one certainty dogma has through all of this: he’s going to die on kamino. but if he’s able to see you in person and hold you in his arms one last time, then he’d accept death with open arms.

the last thoughts that run through his head as he’s being pulled from the ship and into longneck custody are of talking to you only days before, when things were still okay, when there wasn’t friendly fire instigated by a traitor, when dogma hadn’t killed a jedi.

his duty was in fact done, and he was coming home, but there was no guarantee that you would be part of that home, not after what he’s done.

you fail. despite the strength of your love and determination to find him, you don’t.

in all your years of finding longneck secrets and reading their reports, there was nothing on dogma. there was no record of his presence here and it was chilling. you knew the sorts of things that could be found in reports (and they were by no means pleasant), but if even these assholes weren’t going to keep digital record of it, it must be bad.

no one even saw the arrival of the ship dogma was carried in and there was no footage from any of the docks’ security cameras. your lover was a ghost, a wisp, a memory. even the cadets that dogma had known before he deployed (slightly older now, almost ready to be sent to the front lines) seemed to forget about their ori’vod.

it was as if dogma didn’t exist outside of your own head. like he was a figment of your imagination that you would conjure when the nights got lonely. you frequently drew his v tattoo in hopes of you keeping its pattern fresh in your mind because dogma deserved to be remembered. for his sacrifice, for his loyalty, for how deep his love ran not just for his brothers and the republic, but for you.

months flew by with endless searching, digging through files and scouring the base when no one was around. it was all in vain. dogma was no more; at least, not the dogma you knew.

you had found a new normal in your life on kamino. taking up the torch of training young cadets that your mother carried before you, doing your best to ensure their survival in a war built to destroy. dogma was carried with you always, but you stopped asking others about him, resigned to keeping him in your heart like a deep secret. what little hobbies one could find on the rainy planet were indulged as you tried to refill the time you allotted to talk to your cyare before he faded from the memories of his brothers.

since obtaining your new training role, many of the clones looked to you as an authority figure and not an equal. you were a superior now, and they treated you as such. there were no words in any language that you could find that could convey how uncomfortable you were with that, not when you had grown up with so many of them, had swaddled them when they emerged from their growth tanks.

although, there was one clone whom you called a friend these days that didn’t treat you with the same rigid respect his batchmates treated you with. his name was novak; he was kind and loyal and attentive, and if you squinted under the bright fluorescent lights you could see the faintest outline of a geometric v on his face.

that had to be your imagination playing tricks, you reasoned. you’re mostly sure you had seen that same shadow on the face of every clone in the days after dogma’s supposed return to kamino. then again, nowadays you only had this thought around him and no one else.

“got my assignment,” he told you one day over breakfast. “the 327th, under general secura and commander bly.”

“i hear she’s a great jedi, novak. you’ll be in good hands.”

he nods and hums in acknowledgement around a bite of food. there’s a look on his face that tells you he’s deep in thought and for a moment you think you’re looking at a ghost, but then his eyebrow ticks up and the illusion fades.

“my squad and i, we’ll be headed to felucia. and i, uh, wanted to ask you something before you left.” his demeanor changes. before he was casual, relaxed, and you had no idea what switch flipped that now had him fidgety and with the beginnings of a stutter. “could i… could i possibly comm you while i’m there? my batchmates are gone, and i don’t really have anyone else i want to talk to. but if that’s something you’re not comfortable with then you don’t have to do anything i wouldn’t want to cross any bound-”

a finger pressed to his lips ends his rambling. “novak, i would like that a lot.”

it took two weeks.

novak spent two weeks on felucia before he and most of his squad were either killed by droids or devoured by the various flora and fauna of the jungle planet.

the trooper’s last thoughts were of you.

he had been having dreams about you for months. they were of late night conversations through holo about things he had no memory of. time spent in the kamino rains holding each other tight as if letting go would be the end of life as you knew it. the love for you that seemed to have appeared overnight. you would never know these things, and novak regretted that until his last breath.

#dogma x reader #clone trooper dogma #dogma #star wars reader insert #star wars fanfic #star wars imagines #star wars the clone wars #star wars #swtcw #star wars angst #this is so sad #angst #wow this is painful #y'all thought 'homesick song' was bad #just you wait #i'm prepared to be fought

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bittykimmy13 · 3 years

Text

Playing with Fire (18+ GT Drama / Horror)

Premise: Sequel to Heart of Gold. Sherry navigates a vicious life teeming with cruel and lustful giants eager to get their hands on her. The only lifeline within reach is the person who sealed her fate.

Warning: Graphic descriptions of sexual assault, violence, and dehumanization in a GT context. This is not intended to be fetish material; commenting on it as such will result in an immediate block.

Print/Trinket Universe and characters belong to me and the lovely @marydublin5 / @little-miss-maggie, who made the sick header image <3

(( Read Heart of Gold here ))

(( More from the Print/Trinket Universe ))

"I already told you, I'm done. Delete my number."

"One last time, Sher, please. You can't turn your back on me now."

"What'd you do this time?"

"I just... I need you here. Please. I know how we left things. I understand if you never wanna see me again, but I need your help. This is the last time I'll ever bother you, I swear."

Tears drenched Sherry's face. Her attempts to drift away from her current hell led her down the most miserable memories. She wasn't sure which was worse: revisiting the moment she ruined her life, or being present enough to confront her ruined life.

A voice huffed overhead, forcing her to choose the latter. "Stop crying already. Fuck."

But Sherry couldn't stop. She didn't have a clue what was happening or why. All she knew was that she was pinned to a cold metal table while a human woman tried to fit a gold collar over her head.

Agent Taylor. That was what her badge said.

The cabinet doors had flown open at Zane's place, and the reaper's cold eyes had filled the space. Her grasping hands wrecked the makeshift shelter while she thwarted Sherry and Adam's pitiful attempts to bolt out of reach. They had been dumped into a glass cage and then separated before they reached their final destination.

Adam was nowhere to be seen. Was he being forced into a collar somewhere else? And what about Odessa? She had not been caged with them. Maybe because she had been captured by a different reaper.

"Please," Sherry whimpered, twisting her head side to side to avoid the collar. "W-what are you doing? Why am I here?"

Taylor wound Sherry's teal hair around one fingertip and tugged so sharply that Sherry screamed. The back of her head slammed against the table, making the world turn fuzzy. She squinted through the blinding fluorescent lights to see the reaper's annoyed expression hanging over her.

"Stop squirming, or I'll snap your pretty little neck, you hear me?" Taylor looked down at her with disgust. "I don't have a clue why Mitchell insisted on keeping a whiner like you, but you should be grateful. The best thing a trinket can hope to be is a snake."

"A-A... what?"

Fingertips viciously groped Sherry's neck until she held still enough for the perfect gold circle to slip over her head. The invasive hands pulled away finally. Panting, Sherry sat up and felt her collar all around, intending to yank it off. Impossibly, it retracted to a smaller size and settled snugly around her neck. There was no clasp to be found. Smart metal—the kind that was used on tracking cuffs for prints. Since when was such expensive material used on trinkets?

Feeling like she couldn't draw a full breath, Sherry whimpered and clawed at the collar. She felt the thin engraving of an inscription etched along the metal, but she was not interested in deciphering it.

"Don't bother." A hand swept Sherry into a fist, pinning her arms awkwardly against her body. "Mess with it too much, and it'll choke you out before you can even think to regret it."

Sherry trembled in the woman's grasp—not only from fear, but from the shock of being handled so roughly. She had been spoiled by Zane's consideration and careful touches, even if he had turned out to be a lying bastard in the end. Hours ago, she had felt like a real person, and already it seemed like a fever dream to ignore what she really was.

Trinket. Criminal. Doll. Prisoner.

She was whisked out of the small, blinding room and taken into what appeared to be the main hub of a police station. Sherry shivered harder than ever. The giants typing away at computers and chatting around the desks were not regular cops. These were reapers, government agents specifically tasked with the repossession of wayward prints and trinkets.

Although she fit the category of wayward trinket, she figured she would have been shipped straight to a facility to be redistributed to another bar. Maybe a brothel as punishment for her misguided attempts to be rescued by the rebellion. Why was she still here?

"New snake?" boomed an unfamiliar voice. A reaper passing by Agent Taylor eyed Sherry like a choice cut. She shrank away from his stare, which only seemed to encourage him. He stopped to reach out and brush a finger over her hair. "Where'd you nab this one?"

"Some barfly who can't get his story straight about whether he's black market or rebellion." Taylor made no move to thwart the other reaper from lifting Sherry's chin to see her tear-soaked face better. "Either way, the truth will come out. We got taped confirmation about a meet-up tomorrow at noon."

The guy whistled, finally pulling his hand away. "A confession and a follow-up location? Lemme guess. Odessa?"

"Who else?"

The mention of Odessa's name made Sherry perk up, but the conversation ended before she could make sense of what had been said. She'd been too preoccupied about being petted like a captive mouse.

Taylor took her to the center of the station. What Sherry saw made her stomach churn. A glass labyrinth of trinket-sized rooms sat atop a huge table. There were faint lines of translucent circuits within the walls that suggested it was no ordinary glass. There was no ceiling on the enclosure, as though a pet store had decided to set up shop in the middle of the government establishment.

"Welcome home," Taylor said derisively. "For however long you last. We call this the Warren."

The longer Sherry stared at the enclosure, the sicker she felt. There were over a dozen rooms. The walls offered no privacy, other than one cubicle that had sheets thrown up over the sides for some reason—but it still lacked a ceiling. There were doorways, but no doors. None of the openings provided a path onto the table. No exits. The only way a trinket could leave was if a human plucked them out.

Sherry was released into one of the cubicles, which looked like a rough draft of a bedroom. She backed up against the wall, shivering. She eyed the doorway, but with a reaper glaring down at her, there was no point in making a run for it. Her trembling legs were hard to convince.

Blessedly, Agent Taylor turned her attention to a tablet that lay beside the Warren and tapped away at it. "Name?"

Flinching, Sherry clutched her hands close to herself and stared up blankly.

"Tell me a name, or I'll pick one for you." Taylor's eyes flickered to her. "You look like a 'Diva' to me."

"Sh—" She swallowed a sob. "Sherry."

Taylor made a noise of ridicule under her breath. Perhaps like Zane, she didn't believe that was her real name and that it was really what she had been saddled with when being passed around at a bar. Whatever she thought, the reaper typed something into the tablet. Circuits along the wall flickered, and Sherry's name appeared in translucent letters on the wall by the doorway. It was then she noticed that the other rooms had names, too. The one across from hers was Raquel.

Despite her best judgment, Sherry couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"Tell me what's happening," she said, hating the pathetic note of pleading in her voice. "Please. I... I don't understand."

She had never begged as a trinket. Not at the facility. Not at the bar. Not when she was worried that Zane's impossibly gentle touch was fake. But she had been able to make some sense out of those situations. For the life of her, she could not pinpoint what she had done to end up in the Warren with Agent Taylor leering down at her.

The reaper, forthcoming as ever, gave her a barbed smirk. "Do a good job, and you'll be rewarded. Do a shitty job, and you'll be at the mercy of that new necklace of yours. Do a particularly shitty job, and you won't even get that mercy. We'll leave you to the wolves to do as they please. Simple as that."

There was nothing simple about it.

Agent Taylor tossed the tablet onto the table and strode off without telling Sherry what her job was.

For a few minutes, Sherry couldn't do more than stand in one spot while her thoughts reeled. The moment it sank in that nothing stopped her from walking through the doorway of her assigned room, she stepped out. The glass walls were so clean, she might have walked right into a few if not for the pale circuits within.

She came across three other trinkets in her tentative exploration of the Warren. None were helpful. A couple of them were sleeping in their own rooms, and one was sitting on the floor in a central hub area.

He stared up at a news channel playing on a wallscreen that was embedded into the glass. Sherry didn't even realize they made screens so miniature, let alone that there were any systems in place that allowed trinkets to use them. It felt like a twisted, sanitized version of Zane's makeshift trinket hideout.

"Hi?" Sherry said, her voice thready. She stopped a few feet from him. No, inches. Inches. "Can you tell me what's going on here? What is this place? W-what do they want with us?"

He didn't look away from the screen. Didn't say a word.

"Hello? Can you hear me? Please... I-I have no idea—"

"You'll figure it out," he grunted. "Or maybe you won't. We don't bother each other around here, I'll tell you that much." He gave her a razor-sharp glance that told her it was time to stop bothering him.

She retreated back to her room and hugged herself on the bed. That's all there was. No pillow, no sheets. She had glimpsed a few other rooms. Most were fairly simple, but others were adorned with extra accommodations. More pillows, thicker blankets, extra furniture, a box packed with clothes. A couple even had their own wallscreens.

All around the outside the Warren, the reaper station went on business as usual. Footsteps thudded back and forth past the enclosure, but despite Sherry's instinct to duck down out of sight, no one seemed to give the trinkets more than a passing glance. As if the glass cage was no more out of place than a light fixture.

Although intense confusion continued to plague her thoughts, her adrenaline waned and exhaustion crept in. She absently felt along her collar to trace the letters and numbers. C117.

Without realizing she had curled up on her side, she fell into a fitful sleep.

She couldn't be sure how long she had laid there by the time heavy footsteps rattled the floors and walls, closer than before. Sherry jolted in bed, but she kept her head down. She debated on whether it would be a better idea to sit up or pretend to be asleep. A shiver ran through her at the thought that a person was towering over the Warren, looking down at her.

A familiar voice silenced her internal debate—a voice that didn't belong to a massive reaper.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I don't know."

Odessa.

Sitting up, Sherry almost tripped over her own feet as she scrambled for the doorway. She gripped the glass edge and looked high up. The reaper who had approached was still there. A cold spike of recognition ran through Sherry as she examined his icy blue eyes and dark hair. He had raided Zane's place along with Agent Taylor. Currently, he held Odessa in a fist and glared at her.

"Well, someone must have tipped them off," he snapped. "We've gone over the recording a dozen times—there's nothing left up to interpretation. A distributor was supposed to be there at noon. Are you sure there wasn't some change of plan? Did he ever look at his phone as if he received a message? Because I'm still feeling pretty fucking suspicious about how long it took for you to boot up your tracker."

Despite being trapped in a gigantic grip, Odessa didn't cower. That was strange. She had been so skittish around Zane, and here this reaper was raising his voice at her.

"I wouldn't have gotten the confession at all if you all had busted in any earlier," Odessa spat. "It's not my fault the distributor didn't show up. Maybe some neighbor spotted Zane being arrested and passed the info along. Could be that you all weren't subtle enough. Instead of asking me, why don't you ask Zane?"

The reaper scoffed. "Haven't been able to get another word out of him. He's already on the docket for trial. Let's see if he's so quiet during his follow-up interrogation at three inches tall."

The hand holding Odessa plunged and deposited her in a nearby hall of the Warren. Overwhelmed by the appearance of a friendly face, Sherry bottled from her doorway. Seconds after the hand retreated, she flung her arms around Odessa and held on tight.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" Sherry gasped.

Odessa stiffened, but after a moment, she hugged Sherry back. "It's okay," she said softly. "Everything's going to be okay."

"I-I thought I'd be alone here. I heard what Zane said about being with the black market. I knew it. But they won't tell me what's going on here! What are they making you do? Zane just barely got you last night—how can they expect you to know anything about what he was up to?"

A laugh boomed from above, effectively reminding Sherry that they were being watched. She cowered, but Odessa seemed more annoyed than frightened as she held Sherry close. The glare she aimed upward looked like it had been bred in a blizzard.

"Oh, that's just precious," the reaper said, bracing his hands on the table to lean down closer to them. "You sure picked a bright one, didn't you, Odessa? Poor thing hasn't even put two and two together, has she?"

Sherry looked from his looming face to Odessa's icy expression. "What's he talking about?" Sherry asked.

Odessa sighed. "Let me explain—"

"Allow me," the reaper laid in overtop. The cruel amusement in his eyes should have been reserved for a kid frying ants with a magnifying glass. "Sherry, is it? Well, Odessa is the reason you were dragged from that cute little hideaway in the cupboard. I mean, if we hadn't stepped in, you'd be up for bid on the black market. But still. You were rounded up thanks to our expert two-faced bitch here. I suggest you start thinking of her as your new role model if you want to make it through your first week."

Sherry's desperate arms went slack. She wriggled out of Odessa's protective embrace. "He's... he's lying," Sherry said. "Tell me he's lying!"

But Odessa did not attempt to deny any of it. Fury and a sense of utter loneliness exploded through Sherry so violently that she nearly collapsed. Spotting this, Odessa caught her arms and kept her standing despite Sherry's protests.

"Fuck off, Mitchell," Odessa snarled. "Why don't you go figure out the Zane situation before the captain mounts your head on the wall?"

Agent Mitchell was still chuckling as he straightened to his full, dizzying height. "Better start explaining things to her quick. She'll be out in the field before you know it."

Odessa locked her hand in Sherry's and led her away. Still in shock, Sherry allowed herself to be taken. There was a room with Odessa's name displayed on the outside. If Sherry had only explored a little further, she would have saved herself a few precious moments of humiliation. Even more mind-boggling, this was the room with sheets thrown over the walls.

As they entered, Sherry's eyes widened. Odessa had more possessions than anyone she had seen so far.

"Sit." Odessa led her to a dollhouse chair against the wall.

Sherry ripped her hand away and glared, making no move to obey. Her throat was too tight with tears and anger to say all the things racing through her mind. Odessa took her by the shoulders and made her sit.

"Listen up." Odessa's fingers stayed perched firmly on Sherry's shoulders. They were nearly nose-to-nose. "I'm going to explain my job. Our job. Are you listening? When a human is suspected of stealing prints or trinkets, the best way to find everyone they've stolen is to send in a snake. That's us."

"That's you," Sherry protested, her voice a mere croak.

"No. It's us. Whether you like it or not, you have to understand right here and now that there's no choice, Sherry. Either you comply, or they'll send you somewhere worse."

Sherry shook her head. "You said or. Sure sounds like there's a choice in there somewhere."

"Not when one of the choices is a fucking stupid one." Odessa knelt by the chair and looked up at Sherry, taking her hand. A display of vulnerability meant nothing when it came from a professional liar. "I saved you. I know it doesn't seem like it right now, but this is the best thing I could've done for you."

"My collar disagrees." Sherry yanked her hands away, glaring daggers at Odessa's imploring expression. "If we're being set out as bait to catch these people, we're still ending up in bars. How is this any better?"

"The difference is that you'll be saved if you do your job right. You'll have a bed to sleep in. Food to eat. Moments of actual rest. Those other trinkets out in the world... They have nothing. They're dead."

"Oh, this is what you call living?"

Odessa pursed her lips, patience wearing thin. "I'm not gonna sugarcoat it and say it's easy. It's the hardest job you'll ever have to do, but it's a job. You're not a doll or a sex toy or decoration anymore."

"You're right," Sherry spat. "I'm all those things at once, just depends on who the reapers plan to target, huh? Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're wrong," Odessa said simply, rising to stand in front of Sherry with her arms crossed tightly. "I'm expected to teach you what to do. So if you want to survive, I suggest you listen up."

Sherry scowled and clenched her hands on her lap, but she listened.

"Depending on the target, you need to tailor your personality to be tantalizing but believable. Some of these creeps have wizened up, or at least know that the reapers have a few tricks up their sleeves at this point. You just need to be something they want to take home with them. Whether it's for personal, black market, or rebellion reasons."

A sour look crossed Sherry's face. "So, that scared girl thing you did at Zane's place... that was just a routine to get him to nab you?"

Odessa scoffed. "Zane was hardly worth the effort. But then again, bar jobs are usually the easiest. The reapers work with the staff to make sure a snake gets served to the target. Those jobs are the most common. I'm sure that's what they'll assign you at first."

"And what about Adam?" Sherry said when he occurred to her suddenly. "Why isn't here, getting this informative seminar with me?"

"There's no way I could convince Mitchell to take you both."

"So... I'm just the lucky one you chose, then?"

"Luck had nothing to do with it." Odessa glanced away, frowning as if she was still processing her own decision. "I've never asked them to bring in a new snake before. But you were convincing when you hid your suspicions from Zane. Convincing enough that I know you'll be good at this job."

Before Sherry could help it, her eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to be good at this job."

"Sher... I'm giving you something that didn't have before tonight. I'm giving you the power to take control instead of staying a helpless victim." Odessa leaned in closer and put her hands on Sherry's shoulders again, squeezing. "Lesson one. Never cry unless it benefits you."

One last time, Sher, please. You can't turn your back on me now.

Rage flooded over the fear. Sherry sprang to her feet and shoved Odessa to the ground, catching her off guard. "You're a fucking monster! Just as bad as Zane, and these reapers, and all the other psychos out there who can't keep their disgusting hands off trinkets!"

A shadow darkened over them. Mitchell seemed to materialize out of nowhere, his voice rumbling with dangerous amusement. "Well, well, trouble in paradise?"

Sherry made a choked noise and tripped over the doll chair as his hand dove down for her. She scrambled to kick her legs free of the flimsy furniture, but in no time at all, fingers closed around her body and yanked her out of Odessa's room. He observed her panicked struggles for only a moment before raising his eyebrows at Odessa.

"Guess you forgot to mention in your little orientation that fighting isn't tolerated."

"Back off," Odessa said, brushing herself off. "You've barely given me fifteen minutes with her."

"Hm. Didn't happen to teach her about the collar yet?"

"I was getting to it," Odessa said hurriedly. Her voice jumped in a way that made Sherry's skin crawl with dread.

That was all the answer he needed. He released Sherry on the table's expansive surface outside the Warren, right beside one of Odessa's walls. Odessa tore down one of the hanging sheets, pressing her hands to the glass.

"Just relax!" she ordered Sherry, seeming caught between genuine worry and cold nonchalance in Mitchel's looming presence.

"Oh, stop babying her," he chided, doing nothing to fight a sick smile of anticipation.

Mitchell's hand crowded Sherry again. She backed up frantically, but bumped into the glass, unable to avoid his fingertip as it tapped her collar. He went on conversationally as if she wasn't cowering under his gaze.

"Now, if you're out in the field and need to communicate, put your fingertips on both sides and hold for a few seconds. When you've got a solid enough confession from the target, turn on the tracker by tapping the sides three times." His finger pulled away, but not before dragging it down her shoulder, arm, and leg. "Timing is everything. You'll find that several targets scan for trackers, so be smart about when you activate it. You wouldn't want them to know your little secret."

Once his hand no longer filled her vision, she managed to shudder out the breath she had been holding. She reached for the collar, pursing her lips. He spotted the question on her face and chuckled.

"Why would we give you the power to choose when we come for you? Because we have a neat little failsafe in the event that you try to dodge us. I think you deserve a demonstration."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. The reaper logo was stamped on the back. He set it on the table in front of Sherry, giving her full upside-down view as he moved through screen after screen until he came upon a list of codes and names. He stopped and tapped on one of the pairs.

C117 - Sherry

Before she could process how quickly her identity had been synced in the reaper station, she couldn't breathe.

A cry squeaked past her throat. She coughed and tried to pry her fingertips under her collar as it constricted against her neck. Panic seized her. She fell to her knees and writhed uselessly, certain that the metal would decapitate her in its rapid compression against her windpipe.

Odessa's voice sounded far away. "You made your point, now quit it!"

"Just showing her what happens if she gets any bright ideas," Mitchell drawled.

He tapped his device. The collar sprang back to its normal, snug fit. Bracing one hand on the table, he leaned in closer to get a better look as Sherry put herself back together. Gasping, she managed to stand shakily.

"That's for trying to rough up my favorite snake," he told her in a low, dangerous voice. "If you don't turn on your tracker while you're on a job, it starts a little slower than that. You won't even notice at first. Like a frog in boiling water. Just don't even think about activating the tracker until you've recorded some evidence or found some hoarded inventory. You got it?"

Sherry stood there and trembled, reeling to process the way he referred to smuggled people as inventory.

His hand slammed down beside her and sent a shockwave that knocked her off her feet. She looked straight up as he put his face inches from her.

"I said, you got it?" Mitchell barked.

"Y-yes!"

"Yes, what?"

"Yessir!" She nodded frantically and pressed her back against the glass that separated her from Odessa, who looked on with wide, furious eyes.

"You done?" Odessa demanded of Mitchell. "Already collected plenty of material to jack off to later, don't you think?"

He smirked. "You know me so well."

In one smooth motion, he straightened and plucked up Sherry before she could think to be startled by it. He deposited her in Odessa's room, where she fell to her hands and knees. She didn't pause for a single second—she sprang to stand. Bolting from the room, she headed for her own, empty one. Mitchell's leer followed her path effortlessly, still laughing and watching when she reached her destination.

"Expect your first assignment tomorrow, new girl," he said. "Hope you'll leave a good review about orientation."

"I can't take this anymore. Why can't you just... just stop!"

"You don't understand, Sher. If we don't keep splitting it between us, I... You know what'll happen to me. Is that what you want? It is, isn't it? Then you'd be rid of me for good. Fucking finally, right?"

"Don't say that!"

The feeling in Sherry's gut was so familiar, it hurt like a freshly reopened wound. No matter which body she existed in, the universe demanded she be dragged into something she wanted nothing to do with. No choice but to follow through.

This time there was no family. There was no love, no urge to protect. There was only the will to see another day.

What's the point of seeing another day if this what the days are like?

As she lay in her depressing, issued bed and stared at the ceiling, she sincerely thought of running over to Odessa's room to punch her squarely in the face. Maybe Mitchell would swoop in and let the collar finish her off this time. But Sherry couldn't bring herself to budge. She stayed fixated on the fluorescent lights as the hours of the day dragged on. The lights never turned out—not even at night. Busting people for hoarding prints and trinkets was a twenty-four-hour business, but reapers could go home at the end of their shifts.

In all her waiting, she found herself becoming numb. By the time Agent Mitchell came stomping back to the Warren, she felt ready for whatever horror she was expected to carry out. At least she tried to lie to herself that she was ready. Odessa, a known liar, was certain that Sherry was an excellent one. So maybe she could convince herself.

"Four assignments tonight," Mitchell announced, reading from a tablet. "Odessa, Collin, Miranda, and Sherry."

Through the glass walls, she saw the summoned trinkets making their way to the common area. She followed suit, making sure to be as far away from Odessa as possible as they stood at attention.

Mitchell's gaze settled on Sherry immediately, seeming equal measures curious and amused as he wondered how she would react to carrying out her first job. She dropped her gaze to the floor. If some creep was going to toy with her tonight, the least she could do for herself was not let Mitchell get the ball rolling.

"Don't look so sad, Sherry," he chided. "You've got a bar tonight. Easy."

"I'll take her assignment," Odessa said as if she was commenting about the weather.

Sherry's head shot up to look across at Odessa. The other trinkets were staring too, while Mitchell raised his eyebrows steeply.

"See, that's a problem. Did you miss the part where you have your own job tonight?"

Odessa shrugged. "I'll do both. One after the other. She isn't ready yet, but the jobs need to be done, so I'll do them."

He scoffed. "What's the point of her taking up space here?"

"What space? Look around. Half the rooms are empty. Just give me more time to work with her, and she'll be as much of an asset as I am. You're risking her if you send her out too soon. Think long-term, Mitchell. She'll be worth it."

The reaper thought on it for a second, resting a hand over one of the outer walls and drumming his fingers on it. Looking more amused than ever, he turned his attention back to Sherry.

"And what do you say to that?" he asked her.

More than anything, Sherry wanted to demand what Odessa was playing at. Was this her way of apologizing? Sherry was not used to anyone taking the fall for her, but she stuffed down her shock with a cool look and mimed Odessa's shrug.

"If that's what she wants, you won't hear me complaining," Sherry said.

"Fine by me." Mitchell reached for Odessa. "As long as both jobs get done tonight."

And with that Sherry was left standing alone in the common area as the other snakes were plucked up as well. Dropping the pretense of her disinterest, she drew a deep breath and made a slow path back to her room. Along the way, she saw a couple of other snakes who had not been assigned anything that night. They rolled over in their beds, eyes open. No doubt they had heard the whole thing, but none of them had offered to take on Odessa's extra job.

Sherry spent the day drifting between her room and the common area, trying to block out the sounds of the station around the Warren. It was like existing as a ghost. Feeling real while having no significant impact on the real world.

She stared at the wallscreen as it played the news, but she may as well have been watching a broadcast from Jupiter for all the effect it had on her life. Watching the news from Zane's apartment had filled her with a weak sense of hope—at least, in those times when she could force herself to ignore how suspicious she was of his motives. Here, she was filled with nothing but sorrow, watching as the distant world went on without her.

Odessa had been taken at five in the afternoon. She was returned at four in the morning, looking as exhausted as Mitchell looked pleased. It must have been the end of his shift because he didn't stick around to torment anyone as the returning trinkets staggered to their rooms.

Sherry put up no argument when Odessa leaned in her doorway and beckoned her to follow.

"So... I'm guessing it went well?" Sherry asked once they were in Odessa's room.

She refused to give Odessa the satisfaction of immediately asking why she had taken the second job.

"I was responsible for three arrests." For all the extra privacy of her room, she didn't seem shy at all as she stripped off her skimpy bar outfit. Sherry averted her eyes to the corner as Odessa went on. "The first job was a well-off couple. They had been hoarding trinkets from bars and selling them on the side. Not part of any black market networks. Those are the easiest. They rarely have a clue what they're doing, and it's very obvious. Remember that."

Catching a flash of fabric out of the corner of her eye, Sherry peeked and saw Odessa had thrown on a sunflower dress. She did a double-take. It looked a lot like the one Zane had kept in his storage of trinket clothing.

"Independent sellers are easy," Sherry recited glumly. "And the other?"

"A low ranking distributor on the black market. He was crashing parties that had trinket rentals. Keep this in mind, too—those trinket rental services are the most notorious for losing their inventory. Too many moving pieces and rarely a solid guest list to keep track of."

Sherry nodded, sinking into the dollhouse chair as she tried to process it all. "How did you pull that one off?"

"I was alone. I made myself the easiest one for him to grab. So he did." Odessa leaned against one of the sheeted walls and crossed her arms. Her eyelids looked heavy. "It was hard getting info out of him. See, distributors are usually either batshit crazy or stoic. Still, at the end of the day, what most of them love is to feel powerful. The trick was for me to be awed and skeptical. In the end, he wanted for me to know how much of a badass he was."

Something cold warmed through Sherry as she watched Odessa rub her arms up and down like she was trying to rid herself of a lingering sensation.

"And did they..." Sherry cleared her throat. "I mean, did they touch you?"

Odessa dropped the back of her head to the wall and looked up at the ceiling. "The couple caged me. They weren't interested. The distributor... Well, he was handsy. I had to lure him to get those confessions out of him. A lot of humans are like that. They start getting physical, and their walls come down while they brag. They just need to make it clear how much stronger they are."

Humans. "I'm guessing you weren't human, then?"

Odessa fixed her with a guarded look. "What's got you so curious all the sudden?"

"What's got you so selfless all the sudden, taking my job like that?"

A scoff. "You don't know me enough to be shocked by my choices." She paused, her jaw ticking for a second. "Born and raised in a print community. That's where I get my sunshiney personality."

Sherry tried not to gawk. They had been born in entirely different worlds, and now here they both were, living in a glass cage together.

"Did you try to escape?" Sherry asked.

"To go where? The wild? Nah." Odessa pursed her lips as she reminisced. "It wasn't so bad there. I worked in a local bakery, and I was taken to the city a few days out of the month to pull weeds at a botanical garden."

A little snort escaped Sherry before she could stop it. When Odessa raised her eyebrows in question, Sherry shrugged. "Sorry, I have a hard time picturing you in an apron or surrounded by flowers."

"Well, I did have a different face at the time."

That sobered Sherry up in seconds, but she in no way apologized. "So what happened?"

"This keeper started harassing me when I was old enough to have my own place."

Cocking her head, Sherry waited for more, but Odessa just stared at the ceiling. Her gaze was beginning to look distant. Sherry supposed she could understand that. She stood, walking close enough to see the individual petals on Odessa's sunflower dress.

"Did you get into trouble with him?" she asked softly, as if it mattered at all who heard. "It's the kind of thing you hear about sometimes, you know. Keepers getting handsy with prints and getting no repercussions for it. Finding ways to get them in trouble when they don't reciprocate."

Odessa's eyes snapped to hers. "I killed him."

Sherry took a step back, her blood icing over. Her wide eyes incited a smirk on Odessa's lips.

"You were human, weren't you?" Odessa said. "You may not be as freaked as every other human-turned-trinket I've met, but you've still got that look, that way you carry yourself. Like you used to be on top of the world."

"Oh, please. I was never on top of the world."

"Yes, you were. Consider this. The poorest human is living better than the most well-off print." Still, she paused to think about Sherry's statement. "I'm guessing you didn't leave much behind?"

Taking slow steps back to the doorway, Sherry didn't have the energy to protest the shift of spotlight. The mere inquiry of her old life sent her head spinning along with Odessa's casual confession.

"I left behind plenty," Sherry said, gripping the glass doorway. "I have a twin. Had, I guess. Don't quite look alike anymore. Her name's Mia."

Odessa's poker face remained intact, but Sherry swore she saw a flicker of sympathy. "Since we're sharing, what did a sweet thing like you do to deserve what you got?"

It was Sherry's turn to be amused, though she felt like a cold knife was twisting in her gut as she made her exit. "You think you're hot shit for taking out one creep? You're looking at a convicted serial killer, queen."

"Hey, I'm here. I found your backpack, but where are you?"

"I-I..."

"Hello? Mia?"

"I'm sorry, Sher. I-I'm s-so sorry, I had to, I had to—"

"Whoa, slow down! Why are you crying?"

The next night, Odessa insisted once again on taking Sherry's assignment. And the night after that. And the night after that. Mitchell was apparently determined to saddle them both with jobs every night. The other snakes were granted periodic nights off.

There was no attempt to hide it—Agent Mitchell was thoroughly entertained. On the fifth night, he clicked his tongue and looked down at Odessa with what might have been admiration. "You know, you're this close to pissing me off, but I'm kinda curious how much you'll kill yourself to protect your pet girlfriend."

Being in the clear every night did not win Sherry any friends among the snakes. Then again, none of them seemed overly fond of each other anyway. As far as Sherry knew, she and Odessa were the only ones who visited each other, even if those visits were out of pure survival on Sherry's part.

Odessa returned later and later into the morning every time, burdened with the double assignments. The dark circles under her eyes became a permanent fixture. And yet, her performance in acquiring confessions and finding hoarded trinkets did not seem to wane in the slightest.

"Why not call the reapers earlier?" Sherry asked when she noticed Odessa massaging her neck and grimacing. She was back later than ever, which meant she must have put up with the collar tightening quite a bit.

"Holding off a little bit longer pays off," Odessa explained. Even her voice sounded sore. "More damning confessions. Plus, info on others in their network. I'm sure you've noticed that we're rewarded when we do a good job."

Sherry had noticed.

Odessa's cubicle was the most decked out. The best clothes, the most pillows, the softest blankets. The reapers didn't even bother her about the extra sheets she had tossed over the glass walls, allowing her privacy that the other snakes were denied. She did her job well, and like a prized poodle, she was given treats for it.

The reward system gnawed at Sherry over the next few days, but she had little time to confront Odessa about it. She continued taking Sherry's jobs and took to sleeping the entire time she returned to the Warren. The rage that had first taken over Sherry was slowly but surely flickering down to nothing each time she saw Odessa drag her feet to her room.

Then, out of the clear blue, the snakes were taken outside. Sort of.

They were allowed one hour of outdoor time per week. It turned out to be the necessary amount to keep the majority of them from snapping and killing each other in their sleep.

The seven of them were placed in a glass box that had been fixed outside a window. Naturally, the dreariest day of the week had been chosen. Drizzling rain pattered against the glass, keeping the occupants downcast as ever.

Odessa, for all her exhaustion, seemed the least bothered by it. She sat cross-legged in front of one wall. Her hands were braced on the floor behind her, chin tilted up and eyes shut as if she could feel the sunshine through the compact clouds.

Taking a seat beside her, Sherry curled up and hugged her knees. Instead of looking up, she watched the crawling traffic below. Watching from ten stories up made her feel less small.

"Was I just another reward?" Sherry blurted. "Just something you asked for when you did a good job with Zane?"

Odessa didn't answer.

Sherry sighed sharply. "Why bring me into this? What do you want from me?"

"I dunno, Sher," Odessa murmured finally. "Maybe, for once, I wanted to be around someone who wasn't hand-picked by reapers. Maybe I'm just fucking lonely, and you had enough potential as a snake that I could use it as an excuse to keep you. Or maybe I just think you're cute."

There was no more wrath in Sherry. Only an awful, hollow feeling. "I really am your pet girlfriend, aren't I?"

"You still don't get it. You don't have to be anything to anyone. That's the gift I gave you with this job. You choose the role you want to play. You aren't the prey anymore. You're the hunter. If you don't want me to take your assignments anymore, all you have to do is tell me."

Sherry dug her fingers into her arms, holding herself closer. "Why take my jobs in the first place? You care so much about survival and rewards. You think you're getting in my good graces?"

Odessa was quiet for so long, Sherry thought she wouldn't answer. But then she sighed. "I only meant to take the first job. It would have sucked for you to die on your first assignment. Then you didn't seem ready for the second one. Or the one after. And so on. Now here we are."

"You still don't think I'm ready?"

"You could be." Odessa kept her gaze fixed on the clouds. "Maybe I'm the one who's not ready to imagine someone getting their filthy hands on you. But I gotta say... Being a good liar is one thing. You seem a bit soft for a serial killer."

Sherry swallowed hard, feeling like she was stumbling up a staircase in the dark, knowing that one step was missing.

"Makes sense," Sherry said. "I was framed."

Odessa turned to look at her, scooting closer until their arms brushed each other. It was weirdly comforting to have someone listen instead of scoff. "Huh. Ain't that a bitch. Wrong place, wrong time?"

"No. I was right on schedule. I knew I was there to be framed. It wasn't the first time."

Clenching her jaw, Sherry stared straight ahead at the skyline. The city was loud, but it was so quiet inside the glass box, she felt as though every snake was listening in. None of them gave a shit, other than the one sitting beside her.

"Mia and I would switch places all the time," Sherry said, her words feeling strangely disconnected from herself. She had kept them in for so long. "Ever since we were kids, we would share the blame. We would keep track of whose turn it was to get in trouble. As we grew up... she was the one doing most of the bad things.

"And then, once we were adults, it was legal trouble. She could never seem to get herself back on her feet without being dragged back down by something new. It happened over and over. I would let myself get arrested for her petty crimes, and then I'd be let go. She had this terrible boyfriend who kept dragging her along. She may have loved me, but she was obsessed with him. It got to be too much. Once I realized she liked that life, I was done. I moved away, cut her off. It was more like cutting off an arm or a leg. She had turned into this awful thing, but she was still my sister.

"Four years, we didn't speak. Then one day she called me up. Said she needed my help one last time. Said she'd leave me alone after that. I almost didn't go, but I missed her, and I was worried. She promised it was nothing too bad, but she had built up her record so much since I left, she just couldn't afford to get caught again.

"So I showed up where she told me to. I found her backpack in an alley. When I called her, she was a wreck. She kept apologizing, kept saying she loved me. But that she couldn't be a trinket. She just couldn't do it.

"Right on cue, I was spotted and recognized by a witness. I was arrested. The police line-up lasted for about thirty seconds before I was singled out. I was dragged in for an interrogation. That was when they told me what she did. What I did. Seven counts of first-degree murder. See, her boyfriend had been arrested for gang activity and who knows how many hits. At his trial, the jurors took less than five minutes to deliberate: guilty. He was sentenced to be a trinket. And she snapped. She blamed it all on them."

Odessa nodded, having the decency to look disturbed. "The jurors...."

"Picked them off one by one over the course of a year. On her seventh one, she was spotted, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she was found. So she called me up. Told me where to wait. I hadn't even looked inside her backpack, but buried at the bottom was the gun she had used."

"I'm guessing they didn't buy the whole 'my twin sister did it and told me to stand here'?"

"Oh, they knew something was off. But the precinct was a laughing stock because of how long it took them to find the serial killer. By then, Mia was long gone, and they had the perfect scapegoat, along with eyewitnesses to back up that they knew my face. Detectives even lifted some of her DNA from a few crime scenes. We matched."

For a long time, the two of them stayed silent.

"I was right, then," Odessa said finally, leaning her head on Sherry's shoulder. "Great liar. Terrible criminal."

As the rain began to slam harder against the glass, Sherry couldn't bring herself to shrug her off.

That evening, Sherry was fully prepared to step forward and take the job that had been assigned to her. Odessa took it before she could say a word. Mitchell was beginning to look frustrated, but apparently he was more interested in testing Odessa's limits than he was in making her play by the rules.

Odessa did not return until the next afternoon, and judging by the state she was in, Mitchell had gotten what he wanted.

He was all smirks as he dropped her into the common area. "Walk it off, little snake."

Her injuries were so brutal that even the other trinkets broke out of their disinterested fog to stare. She had a split lip and dried blood caking the lower half of her face. She clutched her side tenderly, staggering against the glass to stay upright on the path to her room. She left a smear of blood on the pristine wall along the way. Mitchell watched for only a minute before taking his leave.

Sherry rushed up beside Odessa. A couple of weeks ago, it would have been satisfying to see her this way. Now, Sherry couldn't bring herself to remember what that smugness would have felt like.

"What happened?" Sherry demanded.

"You should see the other guy," Odessa croaked, wincing a cold smile.

"Don't be cute," Sherry said, allowing Odessa to lean on her as they headed to the sheet-covered room. "Don't we have some kind of medic? They know it's a dangerous job."

"Already stopped by the clinic downstairs. This was all they could do. Or wanted to do, anyway."

Sherry looked the half-assed job up and down, gently touching the hand that Odessa kept pressed to her side. "Your ribs might be cracked. What the hell happened?"

"Reapers suspected my target was working for the rebellion. He was spotted with the same trinkets multiple times, so he wasn't selling. I got myself all set up to be 'rescued', and it turns out this guy is a high roller in a fighting ring. Once I realized what was happening, I called for the reapers to come collect. But before I knew it, I was in the pit with another trinket, and he was not interested in talking it out." She smiled crookedly. "What, you worried about me, or something?"

Making a face, Sherry nudged Odessa toward her bed. "Yeah. If you can't go back out there, then I'll have to. Now lay down, come on."

"Bossy," Odessa sing-songed. "Kinda hot."

"Did you get a concussion too, or what?"

Sherry helped her lay down, then started looking around for something to help. Water and cloth were easy enough to get, but Odessa needed far more than that. Noticing Sherry's plight, Odessa raised her head.

"Raquel's got salve." She pointed to the box of clothes in the corner. "Take her the sunflower dress. She'll trade."

Digging out the dress, Sherry hurried out the door to find Raquel. It was a surprisingly easy trade for a mini bottle of salve. Mini to humans, at least. The bottle was the length of Sherry's forearm. It seemed that pretty clothes were just as much a commodity as life-saving medication. Sherry was still wearing her standard issue institution-like set despite Odessa's offer to share.

Returning to Odessa's room, Sherry set everything down on the nightstand, pulled up a chair, and got to work. She started by cleaning away the blood, moving more gently when Odessa winced.

"How do you not have your own salve?" Sherry asked to distract her.

"Covering my walls was a big ask. Mitchell, in his infinite wisdom, says he doesn't want to spoil me. He has decided that I can only ask for one or the other."

"Salve seems a little more practical if you ask me."

"Can always trade if I need it." Odessa reached back behind her head to lovingly touch the sheet on the nearest wall. "Ever notice how everything meant to contain trinkets is made of glass? Polished, perfectly see-through glass. That's part of the punishment, even if no one says it out loud. We're always on display. Always meant to be looked at and humiliated. Sure, there's nothing I can do about the ceiling, but... it's something, at least."

Sherry had never thought hard about it, though it had been staring her in the face for three weeks now.

"Lift your shirt," Sherry instructed, helping her sit up.

"That's forward of you." Odessa smirked at Sherry's eye-roll and did as she was told, lifting her shirt enough to expose her ribs.

Tenderly as she could, Sherry spread a few fingertips of salve over the bruising area. It wasn't a cure by any means, but it would help with the pain. After prompting Odessa to lay back down, Sherry dabbed salve onto Odessa's lip. Their eyes met, and Sherry felt heat rush to her cheeks.

Odessa shut her eyes for a moment and released a heavy sigh, reaching up to squeeze Sherry's hand.

"I poisoned the keeper," Odessa said quietly.

If she had been searching for the perfect way to kill the mood, she hit the nail on the head.

Frowning, Sherry slipped her hand free. "With what?"

"I worked in a botanical garden, remember? All kinds of plants. Prints were the only ones allowed to get up close and personal with the most poisonous ones. Prints and trinkets aren't affected the same way as humans. But let's be honest, they'd send us in there even if that wasn't in the case. Anyway, I started up a little collection, harvested the oils, and mixed them."

"He... he didn't suspect anything?"

She shook her head. "I didn't do it right away. I kept thinking... if he gets worse. And he did. I tried to convince him to stop, but he wouldn't. He had firmly decided there was nothing I could do about it, so why stop? That last night, he broke my window to get to me. The timing couldn't have been more deserved."

By that point, Sherry was fixated, forgetting the salve and soaked cloth entirely. "How did you manage to get it in his food or drink? It couldn't have been easy."

"Who said anything about food or drink?" Something sinister flickered at the back of her eyes. "I rubbed the oils all over my skin."

"Oh," was all Sherry managed to breathe out.

"Yeah. Oh. He had me strip like he normally did. Then, the moment he put his disgusting mouth on me, he was doomed. He didn't even know it. He drove home and didn't show up for his next shift. They found him in his apartment three days later."

"And they traced it back to you?"

"Well, I didn't go bragging about it." Odessa touched her sore ribs absently, staring at the buzzing fluorescent lights high above. "The autopsy revealed the poison. Those types of plants weren't native to the area and were traced to the botanical garden. And who was his only connection to the garden?"

"But you didn't slip it into his food or anything! For all they knew, you just happened to have leftover poison on your skin from working in the garden. He's the one who put his mouth on you."

Odessa laughed. "Like they gave a shit. Plenty of keepers knew he had a thing for me, then he suddenly shows up dead? They even had a few of my neighbors testify about how much I hated him. I didn't stand a chance. But... the way I went about it is also the reason I'm here to begin with."

"Oh. You said that reapers usually pick snakes, right?"

"Mitchell attended my trial when he heard what I did. It didn't last long. He approached me hours before my consciousness transfer. His timing is impeccable with that sort of thing—offering a deal just when you think things are hopeless you're desperate enough to say yes to anything.

"He said I could come work for him, or I could be shipped off to whichever business called dibs on the next trinket shipment. He fed me all this bullshit about being able to stop worse people than the keeper I killed. All he needed to say was that being a snake meant I had a fighting chance. I said yes, of course. From that moment, I was his. He even picked my new face. Took me into a storage room every night the first few weeks for training."

Sherry reached for Odessa's hand and squeezed, trying to draw her out of her distant gaze despite the quiet horror Sherry felt herself. No wonder Mitchell seemed to have the greatest sense of ownership over Odessa compared to the other snakes. She was his project.

"So," Sherry said. "Ever daydream about making some poison and letting Mitchell have a taste."

Odessa smiled wanly. "I used to. Then I realized that Mitchell is our survival. He's a sadistic fuck, but we need him."

The response took Sherry off-guard. She didn't think Odessa could look or sound so complacent.

"You're not covered in poison right now, are you?" Sherry asked. Before Odessa could process the question, Sherry leaned in and pressed a featherlight kiss to her cheek. "Thanks for taking the fall for me. Since Mitchell's off-limits, can we at least daydream that the keeper is burning right now?"

"Now that one's a favorite."

Minutes ticked by, stretching into hours as Odessa rested. Sherry didn't realize she had dozed off in the chair beside the bed until the approach of a human rattled her awake.

"Odessa, you're out of commission for the weekend, lucky you," Mitchell announced, prompting her to jolt awake too. He smiled as his icy gaze moved between them. "Sherry, your assignment's already in, and I'm nice enough to give you a head's up. Velvet Delights. Be ready by 5 for pickup."

Cold fear drenched Sherry, stealing her breath.

"What!" Odessa snapped up to sit, grimacing at her sore ribs. "She can't go to a brothel! She's never even gone to a bar!"

"See, here's the thing," Mitchell said, leaning over to look straight down into the room until they had to crane their necks. "On file, she's been doing a hell of a phenomenal job at bars for the past three weeks. Even survived a fighting ring. No one can argue that she's ready as anyone for a brothel."

Odessa snarled, kicking off her blanket and standing to glare up at him. "Send someone with experience! You know she isn't ready!"

"Whose fault is that? She could have been more than ready if you didn't coddle her."

Eyes wide and frenzied, Odessa looked to Sherry, who had her hands over her mouth as she tried to keep a sob at bay. This couldn't be happening. She'd known that eventually she would have to work, but she had all but blocked out the possibility of being tossed into a brothel.

Drawing a deep breath, Odessa squared her shoulders and looked back up at Mitchell. "Send me in with her."

His eyebrows shot up. "You have three days off."

"Which means I'm free to volunteer. You know as well as me that brothels have the highest death rate. Always better to send more than one. It divides the attention, makes it easier to get evidence."

Mitchell scoffed, but he paused to consider it. "You really are something else," he finally told Odessa. His eyes slid to Sherry for a moment, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm starting to get a little jealous if I'm being honest." He straightened and walked off. "Ready for pick up at 5," he said over his shoulder.

Sherry put on a pretty good show of pretending she wasn't scared out of her mind. In the weeks of getting to know her, however, Odessa could spot her tells. The way she rolled her shoulders. The slight pinch of her brow and lips that could be mistaken for a determined frown. The deep breaths she took to steady herself.

Velvet Delights was upscale, almost heavenly in its angel theme, which could either be helpful or disastrous. The reaper team wouldn't be far, patrolling the area and waiting for one of them to send the signal on their collars. The owner was thrilled to have a couple of free laborers, along with a promise that his inventory would not be snatched by the scheduled suspect that night.

The two of them were ordered to stand close together on the tray. Since Sherry seemed to have forgotten how to move, Odessa went and sat next to her. They were imprisoned under a wine glass and carted into a silk-lavished room. A luxury bottle of wine towered beside them. Odessa had been to enough brothels to know this setup was a special request.

The hostess straightened the pillows, made sure the glass was centered on the tray, and locked the door on her way out.

"You were right about the glass thing," Sherry whimpered in a half-assed attempt to giggle.

"Just relax," Odessa said. "Don't draw attention to yourself. Trinkets have mysteriously vanished around this guy, and that most likely means he's selling. He won't want to damage his product."

"And if he's not selling?" Sherry whispered.

Odessa squeezed her hand. "Just leave everything to me."

"You're hurt."

"The salve helped. I'm fine." Breathing only hurt a little.

The lock scraped. Sherry jumped, letting out a noise of fright. Her breathing quickened, and she shivered with the beginnings of a panic attack.

"Don't," Odessa hissed.

The door swung open, revealing a man with brown hair. When his eyes landed on them, he broke out in a smile that could light up a room. He glanced behind himself dramatically to check the number on the door.

"Am I in the right room?" he said. "Didn't know I'd be getting two. Hope I don't get charged extra."

Stripping off his jacket, he tossed it on a lounger and sauntered to the cart by the bed. He leaned over for a closer look, his fingertips trailing along the glass, tapping.

"Though... I say it'd be worth it for you two stunners."

Odessa tried to keep a neutral expression while she read him. It didn't take long to surmise that he had a thing for power. According to Mitchell, he was a bartender at a fancy downtown club. Trinkets were an everyday fixture for him, and still he visited brothels.

He reached for the bottle and worked on opening it. Didn't waste time, this one. Neither trinket said a word. "Don't be shy, now. Let's break the ice with some introductions." He popped the bottle and smiled pleasantly at them. "I'm James."

"Lolli," Odessa said, purposely trying to make herself look smaller and vulnerable.

He gave a hearty laugh, eyeing her red hair. "Lucky me. Cherry is my favorite flavor. Well, tonight it is." His gaze slid over to Sherry expectantly.

"Charity," she squeaked out, huddling closer to Odessa.

"Precious. Does that mean you're giving?" He grabbed the edge of the cart and dragged it closer. "I'm pretty giving myself, but we'll see if you're grateful enough to appreciate it."

Delicately pinching the stem of the glass, he pulled it closer, forcing them to approach him. Lifting the bottle, he tilted it to pour wine over the upended glass. Pale red dribbles raced down the outside of their prison. Odessa bit back a sneer, knowing he had either done this dozens of times or had scripted this fantasy down to the last beat in his mind.

Still, she was hardly prepared when he thudded the bottle down and slipped his hand beneath the rim of the glass. They had no choice but to scramble onto his fingers, stuck in their enclosure like captured bugs. James lifted them to eye level.

"Sorry for the theatrics," he said without sounding sorry at all. "I have my way of sampling."

Hunger, lust, and amusement battled for dominance in his gaze. Odessa bumped against Sherry as they were suddenly lowered, bringing his mouth into direct view. Sherry gave a breathless shriek as he licked the dripping wine in front of them. She snagged Odessa's arm and urged her to back up to the other side of their prison—as if it would make any difference.

As he turned his hands to drag his tongue further along, his breath fogged the glass. Odessa tried to look more frightened than outright disgusted. So, he was the type who liked to scare his victims instead of winning them over. How original. At least she did not doubt the character she had to play now.

"S-stop," Odessa said, loosing a fake sob and covering her face. "P-please!"

He pulled away, a look of deep satisfaction on his face. "You're right, I shouldn't have all the fun."

Air rushed past them as the glass was lifted off, leaving them exposed in his palm. Odessa thought for sure they were about to get the same treatment with his tongue. To her surprise, he lowered them to the nightstand and let them slide off. Grabbing a cloth from the cart, he wiped off the glass and poured himself a real drink while Sherry huddled against Odessa.

"Oh?" James took a long pull from the wine as he observed his audience of two. "Are you two friends? Adorable. That always makes things more fun." His gaze settled on Odessa. "Lolli, wouldn't you say our friend looks awfully warm in that get-up?"

The two of them wore matching white babydoll lingerie meant to make them look like angels. Instead of halos, they had their collars. Sherry shivered in her outfit like she was sitting in a snowstorm.

"In case it wasn't obvious," James said, his voice taking on an edge. "I'm telling you to take it off her."

Swallowing hard, Odessa turned to face Sherry, nodding her assurance. They needed to do what he said, lure him to let his guard down. With any luck, they could get a confession before he stole them from the brothel. Her goal wasn't to be perfect tonight; it was to get Sherry the hell out of there.

With trembling fingers that were only partly theatrics, Odessa reached for the straps of Sherry's bra. She felt sick to her stomach, particularly when she felt Sherry recoil from her touch. Sherry's voice seemed to echo from weeks ago, accusing her of being a monster. She certainly felt like one right now, though not as fearsome as the one looming over them with his expectant stare.

"I'm sorry," Odessa whispered.

Sherry looked like she might burst into tears as she dropped her head. She made no move to resist as Odessa undid the straps and pulled her bra down her arms, leaving her topless. Reaching for Sherry's panties, Odessa stopped halfway and pulled her hands back. She shook her head, leaning into her guilty expression as she looked up at James pleadingly.

James scoffed and drained the last of his wine, slamming the glass onto the nightstand beside them. "If that's too hard, tonight's gonna be a rough one for you, babe. But I guess I'll let you off the hook for now."

Odessa breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'll finish the job myself." James reached for them.

Sherry cried out in protest and latched herself to Odessa's arm, weeping. James' hand faltered as he eyed them. It wasn't pity—far from it. It was intrigue. Odessa could practically see the gears turning in his head as he took in the sight of Sherry cowering against her for protection.

He grinned. "Am I crazy, or are you blushing, Lolli?" Both. "Goddamn, more than friends, huh? I'm starting to wonder if management thinks it's my birthday or something. I'll do you a favor and show your little girlfriend how it's done, from the top."

His hand closed the distance this time, claiming Odessa as its prize. As he pulled her away, Sherry tried desperately to hold onto her, crying, "No! No!" But she fell back on the polished wood when James shook her off.

"Settle down, babe," he cooed. "You'll get your turn with her. You should be taking notes."

Odessa squirmed and whimpered in his grasp, silently relieved to have the sicko's attention focused all on her. She was no stranger to being stripped bare, but there was something particularly chilling about how expertly his fingers navigated her. He managed to be delicate and possessive all at once as he slipped off the straps of her panties and tossed them aside.

"N-no!" Odessa sobbed dramatically as he lifted her toward his mouth.

He curled his thumb in, effortlessly pinning her to his palm as hot breath spilled over her. His teeth teased at her skin gently until he found one of her bra straps. He tugged until it came loose, leaving her naked in his hand. The delicate lace was still pinched between his teeth as he pulled back to observe her. His thumb rubbed her middle up and down, testing how much pressure it would take to make her squirm in terror.

He let the lingerie fall from his mouth and flutter to the floor. "You're going to be a fun one, aren't you? Thank fuck. These high-end places usually have the prissiest trinkets."

"Please s-stop!" She dug her heels into his palm, trying to pry up his thumb. "You don't have to do this!"

"That's the best part." He leaned in again, trailing his tongue up along her side and circling her breasts while she tried to wriggle out from under his thumb. He sighed as if he couldn't be happier with how she tasted.

She could feel him start to pull away, could see that he was beginning to turn his attention back to Sherry. Odessa yanked her head up and bit his lip. He gave a start and looked down at her, jaw dropping.

"Fun and feisty," he purred. "It's like you were made for me." He caught one of her flailing arms between his teeth and bit her back. Not enough to break skin, but enough for her to let out a scream that wasn't staged.

But that did the trick. He seemed to forget Sherry for the time being, keeping Odessa clenched in his fist while he undressed. Her sore ribs screamed in agony. He moved slowly, making sure she brushed up against his body when he pulled up his shirt or unbuckled his belt. When the dizzying journey was over, he was as naked as she was. He was more muscular than she would have assumed, toned chest and abs filling her vision. She made sure he caught her staring.

A fresh grin lit up his face. "It's about to be all yours, Lollipop."

When he spread himself out on the bed silks, Odessa caught a glimpse of Sherry standing helplessly on the nightstand. Her shoulders moved up and down with visible breaths of panic. Odessa felt a fierce tug at her heart, but she didn't dare look too long, lest James get new inspiration to have Sherry join the party.

As it turned out, Odessa didn't have much of an opportunity to stare, anyway. James laid back and put one arm behind his head, observing as he dangled her by an ankle. He twisted his fingers, scrutinizing her at every frightened angle. He breathed with deep contentment, trailing her up and down his chest and abs.

Only her hair tickled at him at first, but with each stroke, he claimed more of her. Arms, face, shoulders, back, breasts, until the entire length of her was skating along the heat of his skin. When she managed to catch a glimpse of his face, she realized he wasn't even looking at her. She followed his gaze overhead and nearly gagged. There was a mirror on the ceiling, and he was fixated on the sight of himself torturing her.

She put on a good show for him, whimpering and squirming and trying to pull herself up to avoid touching him. She dug her fingers into his skin and made him groan. She screamed a few profanities for good measure, followed by desperate apologies begging him to forgive her.

He loved it. Now if she could just get him to confess.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," she babbled to herself out loud, as if she had completely lost it. "Just tonight, and he'll be gone. I can do this, I c-can do this."

He paused, stopping her halfway down the slope of an ab. "Aw, you're gonna hurt my feelings. Wouldn't you want to stay with me forever?"

A sob wracked through her. "You can't have me! You'll have to give me back."

Her vision spun as he carried her in front of his face to look her over. His chuckle was sinister, but not damning. She wanted to scream in frustration. Just say you're stealing us, already! She kicked her free leg and writhed, actually feeling his fingertips get tugged from the motion.

"Fuck, you're a fiery one," he murmured low in his throat.

That was all he had to say for now. She saw the lust gathering in his eyes, the way his breaths became deeper. He sat up halfway and dragged her down the planes of his body once more, not pausing to drag her back up this time. With a sinking heart, she knew the destination he had lovingly chosen for her.

Seeming miles away, Sherry let out a shriek as she watched from the nightstand. "No! No, don't, please!"

Odessa blocked it out. She would have to deal with this before she could hope to get any info from him. It was far from her first time. As he pressed her up against his hardening cock, she shut down entirely and let it happen. His fingers guided her up and down, the motion becoming rougher by the second.

But he was more sensitive to her mood than she gave him credit for.

"Aw, what happened to all that fire?" he grunted.

Just as quickly as the pressure had started, it faded. He pulled her away from his dick, and she watched in horror as he turned his attention to Sherry's frantic form pacing on the edge of the nightstand.

"Maybe our girlfriend here will be a little more fun. It's her you want, isn't it?"

Odessa's reaction was genuine as she abandoned everything she knew about being a snake. "You keep your sick hands off her!"

But that only inspired him to move quicker. "There's the fire, Lollipop."

His other hand raced to snatch up Sherry. He laid back down, pausing to relish the violent squirms in both his fists before he placed them on his stomach. He stared down expectantly at them like they had been deposited on a stage. He raised his eyebrows viciously at Odessa.

"If you're not a fan of making me happy, I'll let you make your girl wet instead." He reached past them and started stroking himself with anticipation. "Go on."

Odessa turned to Sherry as the two of them rose and fell in tandem with their tyrant's breathing. She reached for Sherry's hand and squeezed. Biting her lip, Odessa searched desperately for some confirmation that this was okay, that they could do what they needed to continue the job. But Sherry gave her head the smallest, pleading shake as tears streamed down her face.

Not here. Not like this.

Turning murderous eyes toward James, Odessa dropped her act entirely and flipped him off. "I'm not putting my hands on her for you, you fucking psychopath."

James groaned in disappointment. "You know, it turns me on a little less every time someone calls me that."

Quick as lightning, he tore Odessa away from Sherry and dumped her in the glass on the nightstand.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Odessa pounded her fists against her damp prison as Sherry became the object of James' scrutiny.

He plucked her up under the arms, watching the panicky kick of her legs. "Oh, don't be like that. Your girlfriend didn't even want you. Don't worry, Charity, I'm here for you now."

Sighing in rapture, he leaned in and pressed kisses to her writhing body. Sherry's whimpers took on a higher octave as he nibbled at her panties. That was all the warning he gave before jerking his head back and ripping them free of her body entirely. He spat them out, eyeing her with a crooked, boyish smile.

"Doesn't that feel much better?"

He teased her with a few more deep kisses, poking his tongue between her legs long enough to elicit an involuntary moan.

"Listen to that. You love it."

He dropped her back on his chest. He nudged her to lay face down and let his hand fall over her, massaging himself with her squirms. He rubbed her down to his abs and back up again. Her muffled cries were silenced each time he fully smothered her, only to surface again when he eased up on the pressure. He couldn't seem to get enough of the rhythm.

All the while, Odessa did not stop shrieking for his attention. By the time he turned his gaze back to her, her throat felt screamed raw. He ignored Sherry's violent struggles against his chest to give Odessa a chiding look.

"No whining, now. You had your chance with her. But don't worry, I'm generous enough to include you."

James sat up halfway and lifted his hand to set Sherry loose. She slid partway down his stomach, scrambling to cling to him so wouldn't slip onto his erection.

"See?" he chuckled, giving her another rub against him. "She's crazy about me."

Reaching past Odessa, James snagged the wine and poured it over her head, filling the glass until she was swimming. Surfacing, Odessa grabbed hold of the rim and coughed. "L-leave her alone! Use me instead!"

The shadow of his hand darkened over her. "You talk too much."

His fingertip came down on her head and dunked her under the wine. He held her down for a good long time while she thrashed and tried to dodge around his finger, which only shoved her down further.

Even when he let her come back up for air, she was given only a millisecond to gather herself. He plucked up the glass and swirled his wine, making her dizzy as she struggled to keep her head up. She slammed into the side of the glass and nearly passed out from the explosive pain in her ribs.

Then he lifted the rim to his lips and took a long gulp. She was too disoriented to swim away from the current rushing into his mouth. Once he caught her arm between his teeth, she could do nothing but wait until he was satisfied with his drink.

As the wine settled back in the glass, Odessa gasped for breath and pushed her wine-soaked hair out of her eyes. She spotted Sherry crawling away on James' stomach. She made it to the sheets before he noticed, chuckling with delight.

"Oh, you like games?" The wine that held Odessa rippled at the rumble of his voice. Sherry moved faster and ducked under a fold. James gave her a head start before setting the glass down so he could poke through the sheets in search of her. "Ready or not..."

While he was distracted, Odessa frantically tapped at her collar to activate the tracker and communicator.

"He confessed," she coughed out, keeping her voice low so James wouldn't hear her. "He has other trinkets with him! He made other stops before this one. Come on, hurry!"

There was an agonizing pause in which James crowed in triumph upon finding Sherry. She screamed as she was yanked out of her hiding place.

"No shit?" Mitchell's voice crackled through the collar. "On our way."

James settled back down, holding Sherry in a fist. He kneaded her front with his thumb as he entertained himself with her weakening struggles.

"P-please," she said. The fight seemed to leave her body. She looked right at him, trying to appeal to a better nature that just wasn't there. "I don't belong h-here. I'm innocent, you have t-to understand! I was framed. Please, please believe me. S-stop this..."

He pursed his lips and nodded along as if he was listening. When she was done, he broke out in a grin so wicked that Odessa swore she felt the temperature drop. "As if I don't hear that same sob story every damn day of my life."

Sweeping his hand out, he deposited Sherry beside his swollen cock.

"Let's see what you got," he said, his voice growing huskier. "Make me happier than you did the judge, and I might be nice."

Sherry tried to run for the sheets again.

"Do I have to do everything around here?" James sighed, though he sounded pleased as could be.

His hand barreled into her and shoved her back where he wanted. He pressed her up against himself with his thumb, rubbing in tight circles. As his panting grew more frantic, he seized both her and his cock in one hand, hiding her entirely with his fingers as he began to jerk himself off. His hand pumped up and down, drowning out Sherry's sobbing screams.

"Stop!" Tears flooded Odessa's eyes, mixing with the wine. "P-please! Just stop!"

His head snapped toward her, wearing a toothy grin. "Don't think I've forgotten about my Lollipop," he panted.

He grabbed the glass and tipped it into his open mouth with reckless abandon. Wine poured in and spilled out the sides. Odessa scrambled to grab hold of something as gravity took over, but there was nothing she could do to stop herself as he tipped her over entirely. The cold glass was replaced with a warm, slick cavern.

Light vanished when he shut his mouth. The surface beneath her lurched upward. His tongue mashed her against the roof of his mouth while he swallowed the rest of the wine around her. The gulp was deafening.

Once she was the only occupant in his mouth, he began toying with her. His teeth narrowly missed crushing her limbs as he clenched his jaw and moaned from the ecstasy of Sherry's struggles. He tilted his head back, and for an awful moment, Odessa thought he was about to swallow her next. Instead, he opened his mouth and left her propped up with his tongue, allowing her a view straight up at the ceiling mirror.

In the reflection, she saw how he parted his fingers around Sherry, giving her a chance to shriek freely. Then he pressed his fingertip to the back of her head to muffle the sound again. An answering groan quaked around Odessa.

She gave a wordless cry and tried to grab his teeth and haul herself out of his mouth. His tongue practically wrapped around her and reeled her back in. He shut his mouth again, rolling her around and sucking on her like a piece of candy.

To her shock, he stuck his fingers in his mouth to grab her by the ankle and pull her out. Losing no rhythm with Sherry, he leaned over to the freshly-refilled wine glass and dunked Odessa headfirst inside. He swirled her around and yanked her out just as suddenly. Holding her over his open mouth, he let wine drip onto his waiting tongue.

Odessa couldn't muster the energy to plead or hurl profanities at him. The hold on her ankle vanished, and she was dropped back toward her dark prison. She managed to twist in the air, landing on the corner of his mouth with her legs halfway out. His teeth came down on her torso, gnawing with dangerous pressure. She tried to wrench her way free, but it was no use. While she was pinned, his tongue returned to greet her, and his finger nudged her the rest of the way in.

James gave another deafening moan of appreciation as he savored her wine-soaked skin.

The noises became more consistent, and his movements quickened. He was heading toward climax. Odessa couldn't help but feel a tiny measure of relief as she curled herself away from his teeth. It was almost over.

Then, to her horror, his tongue began nudging her toward his throat.

In that instant, there was no doubt in her mind that he meant to swallow her as the finale of his pleasure. She scrambled to pull herself away, but there was a shift in gravity as he tilted his head back again to thwart her pitiful struggles.

"NO!" she howled, but the sound went nowhere. The harder she tried to pull herself up, the further she seemed to fall. Her legs slipped into a steep drop.

There was a sharp knock at the door.

Suddenly, she was tilted back to the center of his tongue.

"Occupied," James snapped, teeth gnashing against Odessa's shoulder.

The door banged open. He was so startled that he bit down on her arm. A wail of pain tore out as an incisor cut her. It was a miracle that the bone wasn't crushed.

She felt him cringe at the taste of blood. He plucked her out of his mouth. She coughed herself ragged while his fingers pinched her by the diaphragm and spine. Snagging Sherry's limp body, he used the same hand to toss the sheet over his nudity.

"What the fuck is going on?" James roared, making Odessa slam her hands over her ears.

It all happened in a whirlwind.

Odessa and Sherry were confiscated by Agent Taylor while Agent Mitchell gave orders to the others. They were kind enough to let James put some clothes back on before he was dragged into a corner for rapid questioning.

The trinkets were placed back on the cart tray, but it seemed everyone forgot to give them the privilege of clothing. Sherry looked ready to faint as she stumbled over to Odessa and threw her arms around. She wasn't crying, just breathing heavily. She pressed her hand to Odessa's wound to help staunch the bleeding. Odessa sank with her and held her close, knowing that things were not about to get any easier.

As everything unfolded around them, Odessa found herself looking at Sherry's face. Her gaze was fixed on James across the room. Where there should have been fear, there was pure, unadulterated hatred. She hadn't even looked this angry when she found out the truth about Odessa's role in her capture.

She looked like she would kill if given the opportunity.

"Are you okay?" Odessa whispered.

Sherry blinked and shook her head as tears began falling. Sniffling, she surprisingly chuckled. "Sorry, I know I'm going against lesson one. No benefit to crying here."

Giving a small sob herself, Odessa tucked a lock of hair behind Sherry's ear. "Hey, don't tell anyone, but I was crying half the time. Didn't do me much good, either."

"I'm telling you, I don't know about any other trinkets!" James insisted, pulling their attention back.

Mitchell, looking like he had just won the lottery, walked over to the cart. "Where are the others?" he directed at Odessa.

When she didn't answer, his smile dropped. He leaned in closer, expression darkening dangerously.

"There are no others," Odessa said, figuring she may as well rip off the band-aid.

Mitchell went perfectly still. "But you got a recorded confession?"

"Nope."

And with that, James was released with a heartfelt apology and an assurance that he would be compensated for his night at the brothel, along with a promise that the agency would negotiate with the owner about a few free nights.

"You're lucky if I don't sue the shit out of you," James snapped, making his way to the door.

But Odessa doubted he would. He had to be a black market dealer, or a skilled independent seller at the very least. He wouldn't dare draw the attention of a lawsuit. Even if he didn't complete his fantasy that night, he was walking away with the knowledge that reapers were on his tail, and now he could act accordingly.

Odessa swore he winked in her and Sherry's direction on his way out.

Mitchell sent out the rest of the team while he remained in the room with Odessa and Sherry. He loomed over the tray, looking ready to break them both in half. His hands even flexed at his sides as he gathered himself.

"What the fuck was that?" he managed finally, each word coated in malice.

"He was going to kill us both," Odessa said calmly.

She was prepared when the weight of his hand fell on her, but nothing could help the pain of her ribs crushing against her lungs.

"Like I give a shit," Mitchell hissed. "Snakes die. That's how it goes."

"If you're willing to let your best snake die over one creep, you're a fucking moron."

He pulled out his work phone, which didn't surprise her in the slightest. She took the deepest breaths she could manage, though it wouldn't do her much good. He was going to choke her until she passed out—it wasn't the first time. But when he finished tapping at the screen and looked down at her with relish, her collar didn't tighten.

Sherry gave a shrill squeal. She fell to her knees, clawing at the collar. Odessa gasped and bucked uselessly, every one of her injuries smarting as she fought.

"Quit it!" Odessa pleaded. "It's not her fault! I made the call!"

"She's nothing but a distraction to you," he said grimly. "Maybe this will show you what happens when you let your precious little wants get in the way."

He let her up, and she rushed to Sherry. It wasn't mercy; he intended for Sherry to die in her arms.

"If I lose her, you lose me!" Odessa shouted. "I'll fuck up every job, and you can choke me to death, too! Now stop!"

Mitchell let it go on for a few more seconds, but he did stop, looking weary. "What the hell am I supposed to do, Odessa? You ruined a perfectly set-up sting because you couldn't let your girlfriend take a little punishment."

"It won't happen again. I know she can survive now. I'm going to train her until she's perfect, for real this time."

He paced in front of them while Sherry wheezed and leaned against Odessa for support.

"The station's not gonna go under just because two little snakes are gone," Mitchell said, coming to a stop in front of them. "Either she's an asset or a problem. She'll make it clear which one when she goes on her first solo job."

With that, he scooped up Sherry, leaving Odessa alone on the tray. At first, she was confused as she watched Sherry get handed off to Agent Taylor in the hallway. But as Mitchell shut the door behind him and started taking off his jacket, she knew precisely what was happening.

She wanted to collapse and sob and beg that she couldn't take anymore tonight, but she was better than that. She held her ground as he loosened his tie and gave her a deeply possessive look.

"Well, my shift's over just about over," he said. "It's been a while, hasn't it? You want to keep your cute little girlfriend? Convince me."

At dawn, Sherry padded to Odessa's room. It had been stripped bare of incentives, including the sheets on the walls. It was as empty as Sherry's now. Her clothes were standard issue. A small spot of blood seeped through the cloth bandage on her arm. She couldn't trade for salve. She had nothing.

Well, not nothing, Sherry decided. She could have been confiscated just as easily.

Sherry crawled up beside Odessa, whispering an apology when she startled her. Odessa lay with her back to the doorway, curled into herself. No blankets. No pillow. Just the two of them. Sherry wrapped her arms around her from behind.

"Hey, queen," she whispered. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Nothing that hasn't happened before."

"That doesn't mean you're okay." Sherry slipped a hand to Odessa's ribs. "Sorry," she murmured when Odessa flinched.

"No, it's alright." Odessa placed a hand over hers, using it to rub a slow circle on the sore spot. Then she guided Sherry's hand higher and left it on her breast. Sherry squeezed gently and ran her thumb up and down. As right as it felt, Sherry stopped herself.

"Aren't you tired of being touched?" Sherry murmured.

"You're not them." Odessa's voice sounded tight. "You're soft. You could never hurt me."

Moving Odessa's hair out of the way, Sherry pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, trailing up until she reached her jaw, her cheek. Her lips brushed Odessa's ear. "Tonight may have been a bust, but on a normal job, it must feel good to put away sick fucks like that bartender," she whispered.

Odessa gave a weak laugh. "You're buying into the bullshit, huh? Saving the world? You realize we're not helping anyone, right? Just sending off our 'rescues' to a different circle of hell."

"At least the sick fucks are joining them along the way."

Odessa turned in Sherry's arms to face her more fully. "Rebels join them just the same. Tell me you know that."

Sherry was quiet for a moment, feeling an odd sting of guilt for something she hadn't even done yet. "I know."

She reached for Odessa's chin and gently guided it closer. Their lips touched softly at first, then fell into deeper, more frantic kisses. The fluorescents beat down mercilessly on them. Anyone could watch, but they didn't care.

"I think I'm ready to start doing my job," Sherry said between kisses as they leaned their foreheads together.

Odessa snorted. "I can't tell if you're lying."

"Then I know I'm ready."

#gt #gt writing #giant #tiny #giant tiny #gt horror #my writing #print universe #trinket universe #heart of gold #playing with fire #odessa #sherry #agent mitchell #agent taylor #james #size difference #mywriting

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

used to be lonely (Javier x Reader) [MTMF verse]

Title: used to be lonely Rating: PG-13 (language) Length: 2,400 Warnings: Angst, sexism, pregnancy talk. Notes: Based on a prompt by @youhavereachedtheendofpie. All of maybe today, maybe forever can be read here. Summary: A month after “maybe” Javier comes to a conclusion. Tag List: @grapemama @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate(lemme know if anyone else wants to be tagged in these)

You felt like shit. The worst of the morning sickness had passed as you entered your fourth month, but that didn’t mean you magically felt good. You weren’t sleeping terribly well at night and not being able to drink coffee was torture. Work was… fine.

You’d had to tell your superiors about your ‘delicate condition’ and they hadn’t taken it well. Their first reaction had been to send you back to the states — which had been your worst fear. If you went back to your states, you knew that whatever you had with Javier would come to an abrupt end. Every day was a give and take, trying to find your place together. It wouldn’t survive distance and you wouldn’t let him leave with you if it came to that.

Luckily they came around and put you on indefinite desk duty. You could live with that, even if it meant spending less time with Javier in the office. You were like two ships passing in the night most days. You’d get into the office, just as he was heading out on assignment and he’d return as you were heading home.

Sometimes he’d ride the elevator with you, even though he was headed in the opposite direction, just so he could steal a few minutes alone with you. Four stories was never enough time. He’d rest his hand on the swell of your stomach, press a kiss to your temple before the opening doors would force him to pull away. Fleeting moments that convinced you that this could be something. Something that would linger long after the baby was born.

You pinched at the bridge of your nose as you rested your elbows on your desk. The caffeine migraines wouldn’t give you a break. Every time you caught the scent of a fresh pot brewing in the breakroom, your body craved it. And Chris seemed to make a fresh pot every hour — just to torture you.

“Hey Peña,” Chris started, tossing a crumpled up paper onto Javier’s desk to get his attention. “How’s things out in the field?”

“Fine.” He lifted his gaze and gave Chris a questioning look.

Chris shrugged, “You know I was just wondering if things might be easier for you now.”

You frowned, but kept your focus on the report you were typing.

“Why would it be easier?” Javier questioned. You glanced at him, catching the way his teeth were clenched together, his jaw set hard. You both hated Chris. Nothing good ever came from his idle wondering.

“Well, you know.” Chris threw another piece of paper towards the garbage can against the wall, missing it by a mile. “Without having a chick in tow. No offense,” He offered disingenuously when you glared at him. “You get to deal with all Colombia’s finest informants and I can’t imagine having a female partner helped you.”

You drew in a deep breath, counting to ten instead of picking up your stapler and beating him to death. Though the mere thought of it was wholly satisfying. You exhaled slowly, flexing your fingers before you continued typing. Chris’ sexism didn’t even warrant a reply from you. No one gave a shit and it wasn’t a hill you wanted to die on.

“Fuck off.” Javier bit out. “She was a damn good field agent and a competent one too.” That dig made you smirk. He’d been paired with Chris a half dozen times since you got stuck on desk duty and he always looked pissed as hell when he got back. Chris was a decent agent, but he was only there because he had a drinking buddy among the higher ups.

You glanced up again, catching Javi’s eyes on you. You could never quite tell what that look meant — sometimes it felt like he was looking into your soul and other times like he was looking straight through you. But you knew Javier better than anyone else knew him — save for Steve. You had spent the better part of your past five years in Colombia at his side, day in and day out. But sometimes you just couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Especially when it came to you.

“Don’t waste your breath on him, Peña.” You remarked, pulling the finished report out of the typewriter. “He’s just jealous that he didn’t get my job.” Javier had been insistent that they hold the spot open until after you delivered. He’d have to work with Chris and Daniel, but neither of them would be his official new partner.

“Damn straight I am,” Chris scoffed. “It’s not like you’re going to be fit to go back in the field.” He vaguely gestured to his stomach. “You’re already getting fat.”

“I’m having a baby.” You snapped as you stood up. “What’s your excuse?” You didn’t give him a chance to respond, heading out of the bullpen and down the hallway towards the bathroom. You didn’t trust yourself not to cry. Your hormones were all over the place and the prickly burning in your eyes suggested that he’d struck a nerve.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, splashing a little water on your face to soothe the flush that was starting to spread across your skin. You looked as good as you felt, which was shit. There were dark circles under your eyes, revealing just how little sleep you were getting.

Someone knocked at the door.

“Occupied!” You called back.

“It’s me.”

Your brows furrowed together as you turned back to the door, you unlocked it and pulled it open a crack. “What are you doing?” You questioned as you stared at Javier, your eyes flickering up and down the hall to make sure no one else was around.

“Just checking on you.” He murmured, his expression soft as he looked at you. “You okay?”

“Just trying to prevent a murder.” You quipped, letting out a humorless laugh.

Javier reached through the cracked door and took ahold of your hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “We could probably get away with it, if we put some effort into the planning.” He said lightly. “Can I come in?”

You nodded your head slowly, pulling the door open wider. “This is risky.” You warned him as he stepped inside and locked the door shut.

“Just a man checking on his partner,” Javier chewed on his bottom lip with his hands on his hips.

You frowned, resting your hand on your stomach. “That’s a ‘bad news’ look.”

He gave a stiff nod, his jaw rocking as he stared at you. “I’ve got to meet with an informant tonight.”

“Okay.” You said calmly, even though you felt your pulse jump in your throat.

“Okay?” Javier’s head cocked to the side, like he was expecting another answer out of you.

“Yeah.” You shrugged. “It’s your job, Javi.”

He blinked slowly, before looking away with an incredulous laugh. “You could at least tell me that you’re hurt.”

“By you doing your job?” You shot back, staring at him. “I don’t know what response you were expecting.”

“Yeah,” He shook his head, his voice cutting to the bone. “I don’t fucking know what I was expecting either.”

“I’m not in a position to be jealous, Javier.” You told him, biting down on the inside of your bottom lip. “This,” You gestured between you. “Is held together with a shoestring and the allusion of trust.

“The allusion of trust?”

“Javier,” You crossed your arms across your chest. “Can we not do this?”

“I trust you with my life.” Javier breathed out, his eyes darting over your face. “So fuck that.”

You sighed heavily, “I trust you with my life too, but I don’t trust you with my heart.” You admitted, your lashes fluttering as you looked away. “Look, I need to get back out there before Chris comes up with a conspiracy story that neither of us need right now.”

“Wait.” Javier urged and you turned back around to look at him. “Can I come over tonight? After?”

You gave a faint nod of your head, “I’d like that.”

——

Despite your best attempts at falling asleep, you were still wide awake on your sofa watching late-night reruns of a telenovela well past midnight. Javier hadn’t shown up, which you weren’t entirely surprised about. Disappointed? Maybe. But you knew how things went. You hadn’t gone into this with your eyes closed. You knew Javier, you knew what being with him meant. You didn’t let it get under your skin. Or at least, you didn’t acknowledge it when it did bother you.

Sometime near one, there was a knock at your apartment door. You hauled yourself off the sofa, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as you went to open the door. “Hey.” You smiled softly as your gaze settled on his face.

“I didn’t know if you’d still be up.” Javier stated, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket as he shifted anxiously on his feet. “Can I—?”

“Yeah, come in.” You pushed the door open wider, stepping aside to let him in. You drew in a shaky breath, taking your time as you pulled the door closed, latching the security chain back. “How’d the meeting go?”

Javier pushed his fingers through his hair as you looked back at him. He shook his head, “I didn’t get anything out of her.”

“Oh.” You pulled the blanket around you tighter as you walked back towards the sofa. “I’m sorry to hear that.” You curled up on the sofa, peering over the back of it at him. “Are you going to sit down?”

“Does it not bother you?” He questioned, staying rooted in one spot.

You sank back against the arm of the sofa, rubbing at your forehead. “I just compartmentalize it, Javier. I don’t really have the privilege to be worried about it.” Your eyes flickered towards him, “I’d rather have you most of the time, than none of the time. If that’s my two options.”

Javier’s shoulders sagged. “I see.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, before he moved around the sofa, settling down on the opposite side of it. He stared straight ahead at the T.V., but you knew he wasn’t watching it. His jaw was clenched, lips moving slightly like he was trying to formulate what to say.

The silence was smothering as it lingered between the two of you, oppressive like the thick heat of Colombia.

“I didn’t fuck her.”

Your brows shot upwards. You curled your feet beneath you as you sat up, staring down the length of the sofa at him. “Is that why you didn’t get the information?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t care.”

“Javier, it’s your job.”

“Fuck that.” He snapped, fingers curled into tight fists on his lap. “I’m done with that shit.” Javier turned to look at you, looking more wounded than you’d ever seen him before. “It’s not just work. Don’t you get that?”

You blinked slowly, before looking away from him because you couldn’t take the pain in his eyes. “I do. But I also know…” You shook your head. “It’s not a game, Javier. This is our job, our livelihood. We can’t let whatever this is get in the way.”

“Whatever this is.” He scoffed, sinking back against the sofa and staring up at the ceiling. “You can be such a bitch sometimes, baby.”

“Yeah, well you’re a jackass all the time so I think we’re even.” You bit back, throwing your blanket off as you stood up. “I’m going to bed. You can sit out here and sulk or whatever, be my guest.”

“I love you.”

You stopped dead in your tracks.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“No.” You turned to stare at him. “What did you say?”

“I love you.”

“Javier, we’ve been together for a month.”

“No shit,” He dragged his hands over his face before he stood up and stalked towards you. “We didn’t just meet last month.”

Everything felt like it was closing in on you. The telenovela sounded like white noise in the background, blending into the thrumming of your pulse in your ears, the steady flow of air through your nose. “You can’t just say that, Javier. You can’t just tell me you love me if you don’t really mean it.”

“I do.”

“How?”

“You’re all I think about.” Javier admitted, reaching out to grab your hands, holding you in front of him.

“Is that why you couldn’t?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You swallowed thickly, “Wow.”

“I tried.” He admitted.

“I figured.” You laughed a little, uncertain how to feel. “You smell like cheap perfume.”

He chuckled. “I’ll shower.”

You shook your head, “It’s fine.” You took a step closer to him, looking up at him with a quiet smile. “I swear to God, if you break my heart Javi.”

“Are you going to say it back?”

You brushed your fingers along the curve of his jaw, “No.” You said lightly. “I’m going to make you wait.” Your hands settled at his shoulders as his own hands found your hips. “You’re going to have to work for it.”

“I can live with that.” He smirked, leaning down to brush his lips against yours. His nose bumped against yours as he pulled back. “Just don’t make me wait too long”

“You won’t.” You promised him, giving his shoulders three little squeezes.

Javier inhaled sharply, looking down at you quizzically. You smiled a little more broadly nodding your head to confirm his suspicions. Your fingers found their way to the back of his neck and you drew him down to kiss him again.

You let the kiss linger, your tongue teasing over his bottom lip. “I lied. Go take a shower.” You shoved him playfully in the chest. “I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

He stole another kiss, before he headed for your bathroom, glancing back over his shoulder at you.

You were already half asleep when Javi slid beneath the covers beside you. It wasn’t the first time he’d spent the night since you’d started your relationship, but it was the first time it felt like that was where he truly belonged. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, his arm wrapped around you, his palm spread out over your stomach.

You used to be lonely too.

But now, in Javier’s arms… there was a hope in your heart that maybe neither of you would have to feel lonely again.

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader #i was supposed to finish a fluff idea but here we are

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whumping-whumpees · 4 years

Text

Recruitment -Box Boy Kenneth

AN: I hope you all enjoy the newest installment! Read the first part, here!

Warnings: Major tw for the Box Boy universe, which includes dehumanization, slavery, trafficking.Mentions of violence/torture, panic attacks, major major abuse, use of “it” as a dehumanizing pronoun.

When he was coming out of unconsciousness, the first and only thing he noticed was his splitting headache. It felt like needles being pushed into his skull, and his head throbbed. He was vaguely aware that he was sitting in a chair, leaning on a table, but all he could do was groan as he leaned foreword. Kenneth squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to breathe as the headache slowly became less and less persistent.

“I see you’re awake. Your head wouldn’t hurt as much if you didn’t make such a big fuss earlier.” Kenneth snapped up and tried to jump back, but that’s when he realized he was handcuffed to the table in front of him. The person who spoke was a woman dressed in business attire, sitting across from him with a small stack of files in front of her. He glanced around, the room was small, and sparse, with no windows.

“Wh- uh, where am I? Who are you people?” His voice rose as he spoke, panic evident despite his attempts to hide it. His memories came back in a rush. “You kidnapped me!” He was shaky, still a little disorganized.

“Mr. Dunne, please control yourself.” The woman looked unfazed. “My name is Natalie Frisch, I work for one of the leading Box Boy companies, you may have heard of us, we’re-”

“I don’t care!” Kenneth interrupted. He tugged on his handcuffs, to no avail. He was shaking, in both fear and anger. “Let me go! I don’t want to be a fucking box boy!” Frisch pursed her lips, and her eyes narrowed.

“Sir, if you don’t calm down, we’re going to have to sedate you again. You don’t want that, do you?” As if on cue, his head let out another throb. He sighed, and shook his head. “Perfect. Now, as I was saying...” She flipped through a file and pulled out a stack of papers. “You’ve been chosen to be the newest addition to our product line. All you have to do is sign here, and we’ll start your training right away.” Kenneth glanced at the papers briefly.

“No! I don’t want to do it! I won’t sign it!” From just a glance at the papers he could tell it was worse than he thought. If he signed it, he would sign away his right to his freedom, his life, even his name. Natalie Frisch shook her head in disappointment.

“You didn’t even read the contract, Mr. Dunne. Life as a Box Boy offers you a new beginning, a fresh start. It’s an opportunity you shouldn’t pass up lightly.” Kenneth shivered and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He shook his head.

“No, I’ve made my decision, Ms. Frisch. This is my choice to make. And also, you, you kidnapped me! That’s definitely illegal!” He flinched under Natalie Frisch’s glare. “But! But, um, I won’t tell anyone, if you just please let me go?” Frisch sighed. She started to rifle through some files. The little hope Kenneth has started to dwindle.

“You do have choice to make, but it’s not the one you think. You are going to sign those papers. That is already decided. We have ways of... convincing people.” Kenneth looked at her, eyes wide with fear, and he gulped. “The choice is whether you sign it now, or if we have to spend... resources... convincing you.’” Kenneth could tell there was an underlying threat.

“The problem is, Mr. Dunne, is that we don’t want to spend time trying to convince you. It would just be easier for all of us if you sign now.” Kenneth opened his mouth to speak, heart beating out of his chest, but she continued. “We would make this worth your while to sign now. We would appreciate your show of respect.” Kenneth’s mouth felt dry.

“How, um, how do you mean?” Natalie Frisch smirked, a stark difference from the professional attitude she had before. Kenneth felt his stomach drop.

“I’m glad you ask. You see,” she pulled out a few sheets of paper from her files. “All of our box boys get the same standard training, but we often get requests. People want their Box Boys to do, or act, or even look certain way.” She cleared her throat and read from the papers.

“Can you make it have a panic attack whenever it tries to go outside? I don’t want it running away.” She looked at Kenneth with a steely gaze, and the breaths he took started to be shallower. She continued, “Do you have any mute box boys? Missing a tongue, throat cut, whatever, I just don’t want it to talk.” Kenneth started to tremble. People actually asked for this kind of stuff? “I want you to make my box boy super fucking clumsy, like it gets hurt all the time, I think that’d be hilarious.” Kenneth tried to get a handle on his breathing.

“Please, stop, I don’t want to hear this!” But Natalie Fisch continued on.

“Request: Make him worship the ground I walk on, I want this box boy to love me no matter what I do to him.” He felt like he was going to throw up, he kept waiting for Fisch to be done, but she kept reading the list of requests, each worse than the last, finally ending with, “I want it to beg me to hurt it, then thank me when I do.” Fisch looked up. Kenneth knew that she wasn’t lying about these requests, he had seen the box boy horror stories on the news, and what people did the them. Kenneth’s mind was racing, and he blurted out,

“Please don’t send me to any of them! They’re sick creeps, all of them!” He stared at the stack of papers he was supposed to sign, trembling in fear. He was trapped here.

“Relax. Pull yourself together. I won’t send you to any of these people.” He looked up at her hopefully. “If you sign the papers now, and agree to be a model box-boy-in-training.” His heart sank. He stared at the papers, and Fisch talked almost soothingly. “I can make sure you go to a nice home, a loving family. Some people just want a box boy so someone can watch their kid. It’s nice and easy work. Just sign now. Your cooperation will not go unnoticed.” She made it sound so easy. It almost made him want to sign.

Almost. He held the pen in his hands, the packet slid under his handcuffs. He stared at the papers and he just... couldn’t. This was his life! He couldn’t just write it off! He grew angrier as he stared at the dotted line. This was illegal! He wouldn’t sign, and he wouldn’t become a box boy! Someone would notice him missing, and he would be freed. Yeah!

Decision made, he tossed the pen back at Natalie Fisch. He was incredibly nervous, but he stood his ground.

“No. I will not sign. I will never, ever sign!” Fisch, to his dismay, did not look angry, or even that surprised.

“Well, I’m disappointed.” Natalie stood from her seat, gathering the files. “I will say though, begging to be hurt will be a good look on you.” Kenneth realized a little too late that he made the wrong choice, as Natalie went to the door behind him, speaking to someone “It needs a little convincing. Do whatever it takes.” Kenneth turned his head to see two, muscle covered men walk in.

“Hey, wait, please!” He was cut off as one of them grabbed his head, and wrapped a chunky collar around his neck. Kenneth couldn’t move his hands to take it off, and he screamed as an electric shook reverberated throughout his body. A shock collar.

Time passed, but for the most part Kenneth was only aware of two things. Pain, and the paper that was continually pushed in front of him. In the moments when he could form thoughts, he wondered why they needed his signature so bad, why wouldn’t they just forge it? Another shock rippled through his body, and his face was slammed into the table yet again. He guessed they just really didn’t want to get sued.

Kenneth’s whole body ached. He knew he couldn’t hang on for much longer. He was just a guy, never before had he felt this much pain. Finally, he snapped when his finger did. The pain from the broken finger overpowering, he started sobbing and shaking.

“I’ll s-s-s-sign it, p-p-please, I w-w-will, let, lemme s-s-sign it!” He cried, bruises all over his body aching. They took care not to give him scars, but anything else was fair game. A pen was pushed into his fingers, and he could barely hold it. Slowly, but surely, he signed on the dotted line. Natalie Fisch’s voice rang out as he collapsed in defeat,

“Welcome, 93215!”

#kenneth oc #whump #my writing #box boy whump #dehumanization tw #slavery tw #trafficking tw #abuse tw #torture tw

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niiwa-angel · 5 years

Text

Sick day at Skylands

Spyro woke up with a fuzzy mind, not a head ache per say, but like he was thinking through a fog. He rolled over to check his clock, his curtains were drawn and his room was dark, from down the hall, he could hear Eruptor snoring. As gently as possible he tapped the top of a little copper box with a dark front, immediately the dark front displayed a time. 4:12 am. Spyro quietly groaned, /it is to early for this!/ he thought to himself as he tried to think of what in skylands had driven him awake. He knew it wasn't Eruptors snoring, he had long since grown used to that and now could barely sleep without it, it wasn't the sun, his room was to dark for that. Then he felt a sharp pain in his stomach, like a stone was resting in it, his mouth filled with saliva, he moaned in pain and disgust as some of it slipped out his jaws. He curled around himself, a childlike whimper emitting from his throat. Almost instantly, he shot bolt up right and ran from his room to the bathroom, barely shutting the door behind him. He ran to the toilet, his claws gripped the sides as his body heaved, sweat dropped down his snout and tears sprang in the backs of his eyes. Finally, having emptied itself, his stomach settled.

Spyro flushed and rinsed his mouth with cold water before slowly making his way back to his room, careful to not wake his house mates. He crawled into his now cold bed, shivering slightly as he did, he pulled the blankets tightly around himself. His whole body hurt, his head was now pounding and he was really cold, the tears fell now, slowly making their way down his face. A small part of him wished he were still young, when Eon would sit with him and tell him stories of the skylanders when he was sick. He was older now though, to old to want the man who had raised him and cared for him since he was a hatching. Besides, it was just a small cold, nothing more, he was Spyro! He was a skylander, a hero! This would pass quickly.

~~timeskip to morning~~

Eruptor woke up slowly to the sound of his alarm, he listened to the incessant beeping before turning it off. He slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes, moving his legs off the side of the bed. He stood and stretched, yawning as he did so. He worked his way to the kitchen to find Stealth Elf sitting at the island with her phone and Jet Vac leaning against it with a thick hardcover book in his hand, both skylanders looked up as he entered.

"Good morning Eruptor! I hope you had a restful sleep, ready to start the day?" Jet Vac asked in his typical fatherly way. It was no secret that JV saw the trio as his kids, often checking up on them, helping them with their studies and assignments and listening earnestly to their fears, worries and troubles without judgement. Eruptor smiled.

"No troubles to speak of JV, how was your night?" Eruptor started rooting around in the cupboards, pulling out flour, baking powder, salt, mixing bowls and spoons before taking milk and eggs out of the fridge. He smiled to himself as Jet Vac answered his question.

Stealth Elf smiled as she watched the two talk and work. She was looking forward to Eruptors pancakes as well as the traditional scuffle between her and Spyro to grab the last one. Her face fell as she noticed Spyro wasn't here.

"Hey boys, is Spyro up yet? He's normally down here by now." Stealth Elf straightened herself up to look town the hallway Eruptor had just come from, it was lit with skylights but there was no one in it. Eruptor shrugged off the question, to focused on his pancakes to anwser Elfies question. Jet Vac looked annoyed.

"Now that you mention it, no, I haven't seen Spyro today. I swear he can be so lazy sometimes. I'll go wake him, be back in a minute." Jet Vac placed a slim piece of paper that had clearly been ripped from something into the book he had been reading and closed it with a light 'thump' and started off down the hallway. Once he was out of sight he let his walk slow and his face relax. He wasn't angry or even disappointed that spyro had slept a little late, the boy had improved, he worked harder, was doing better in all of his classes and was becoming a respectable young dragon that Jet Vac was proud to teach and work with despite his young age. So, if the boy slept in a few times, Jet Vac wasn't angry, he certainly wasn't going to be like his father and yell at Spyro until he cried and then yell at him for crying, he would just gently wake him up and let him know breakfast was ready. He reached Spyros door, which was slightly ajar, he gently knocked twice and entered, taking in the room. It was tidy-ish, the round bed was in one corner with some blankets hanging off the sides, the desk had papers and textbooks covering the surface with a pencil next to the computer, the bookshelves in the opposite corner had long since been filled and some books were fit in in odd ways, spines a short bit off the shelves, cover facing forward. The curtains were drawn, casting the room in shadows that would have made the high ceiling look sinister had it not been for the hanging paper models of islands, stars and odd origami shapes. Jet Vac smirked, he remembered Stealth Elf learning to make origami and gifting it to her friends, it was sweet to see that Spyro had kept them. Looking at the corner where Spyros bed was, Jet Vac could see pictures covering the walls, as he got closer he could make out different faces, a young Spyro with Master Eon, Stealth Elf and Spyro covered in mud, the trio on Eruptors 13th birthday with the fire elemental covered in frosting with Spyros claw pushing a piece of cake into his face.

Looking on the bed itself, Jet Vac's heart sunk. Spyro contradicted his room in every way, rather than welcoming, he looked tense, his face looked pained. His eyes moved quickly behind his tightly shut eyelids and he was murdering.

"Stop it, lemme alone. I don wanna, please." Jet Vac frowned at the words his pupil was whimpering, Spyro was clearly in the throws of a nightmare. Jet Vac slowly sat on the edge of Spyros bed and placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

"Hey, hey Spyro, it's just a dream,wake up my boy. That's it, your alright." JV smiled as Spyro opened his eyes, only to frown at how pale he was. Spyro looked around slowly before settling on his mentor and friend. He blinked like he was trying to get water out of his eyes before he lifted his claws and rubbed at them.

"Oh hey JV, sorry bout that." Spyro threw on his infamous smirk, but even in the murky shadows of the room, Jet Vac could see that the normal cheerfulness that always followed Spyro was missing. Jet Vac grimaced.

"Sorry about what?"

"Falling asleep in your class." Spyro said with such earnesty that Jet Vac knew something was up.

"My boy, this is your room and it's saturday!" Spyro blinked a few times and shook his head.

"Oh yeah, I was just messin with ya. Hey let's head downstairs. I smell food." JV narrowed his eyes, his mind working fast.

"Spyro, are you feeling alright? Your look in pale?" JV would swear up and down for weeks that he could see Spyro freeze.

"Oh of um, of course I'm okay, why, why would you think I wasn't?" Spyro stuttered, avoiding eye contact.

"Spyro, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that you can tell me if your feeling ill. I want to make sure you're feeling alright. If you need to take the day to just sleep I'm sure Master-"

"I said I'm Fine!" Spyro snapped, turning away and stalking out the door. JV was at a loss, Spyro rarely spoke with such anger and disrespect. JV sighed. It was going to be a long day.

~~timeskip to Eons library~~

Eon considered himself to be very in touch with his Skylanders, he knew Jet Vac still harboured a fear that he wasn't 'man' enough, he knew Eruptor was always worried he was to hot to be around, he knew Stealth Elf was always worried about people being nervous about her pupilless eyes, and he knew Spyro needed reassurance that he was good enough to be with his team. So when the 'troublesome trio' as he had affectionately dubbed Stealth Elf, Eruptor and Spyro came in with Jet Vac trailing behind watching them closely, he knew something was up.

"Ah, Skylanders! So glad you could make it! I have a surprise for you all!" It didn't escape Eons gaze that Spyro wasn't bouncing, or flying or doing any of the typical Spyro things. His tail was dragging and his wings looked limp, as though even feasting them on his back was to much effort.

"Alright sir, we can't wait!" Stealth Elf exclaimed, following Eon out to the training arena to see a huge climbing structure, complete with ropes, Rockwalls, tight wires, and swings. Stealth Elf looked giddy.

"Holy Sheep!" She cried teleporting to the other side of the contraption and back again.

"Yes, I thought it would be good for you all to get some training with heights. And I thought thus would be a fun way for you to pass your weekend." Eon was rewarded with a quick hug from Stealth Elf, quickly followed by Eruptor. Eon braced himself for Spyros tackle but when he looked for his young ward, he saw that he was gazing off into space. Eon was more than concerned.

"Spyro, are you quite well?" Eon asked, startling the purple dragon out of his trance.

"Perfectly fine Master Eon." He replied in a flat, monotone voice, a shocking difference from his usual voice. Eon glanced at Jet Vac, who discreetly shook his head. Eon knew that if he wanted to get honest anwser from Jet Vac or Spyro, he would have to talk with them alone. It would be easier to talk to Spyro first, knowing he would get suspicious and leave, something he had done since he was small. Eon gestured to the climbing structure, that was all the encouragement Stealth Elf needed, she ran to a rock wall and was nearly halfway up before Eruptor even reached the base.

"Spyro, may I speak with you please?" Eon's heart sank at the look of panic that came over the dragon he had parented, he remembered how Spyro had always come home bursting to tell him about his day, now he looked scared to talk with him. Spyro dragged his feet the whole way over, watching them the whole time. Eon could hear the wheeze in his breaths, as though he were out of breath just from the walk.

"Spyro, are you well?" Eon wasn't sure how to continue with this, Spyro rarely got sick but when he did he was always honest about it. Spyro looked positively shocked.

"Of course I am, why, what, why wouldn't I be?" Eon cringed at his voice, it was weak and raspy. The poor young dragon looked like he was trying to hold back a cough, knowing that pushing him for anwser would only drive him further away, Eon sighed internally and nodded.

"Okay then. But you know you can talk to me about anything, right Spyro? You know I will always have your back." Spyro turned with a nod, slowly making his way across the lawn to the climbing walls. Eon waved Jet Vac over.

"So I take it you've noticed something is up with Spyro." Jet Vac said upon being close enough to quietly talk without being heard.

"Yes but he won't tell me. He's so distant and is being very secretive. I just don't understand!" Eon exclaimed.

"Well I noticed that he didn't eat much this morning, he's slightly feverish, and he's got a cough that he is try it desperately to hide. All in All, I think it's something that should pass with proper rest," Jet Vac broke off as he heard Stealth Elf hoot from the top of the structure, turning to face the trio, he saw the three of them on a tire that was swinging back and forth. "Not that he is."

Eon shuddered at how high up the sick youngster was. He couldn't have flown up there so he must have climbed.

"When did you notice he was sick?" Ron asked the professor.

"This morning, he slept in. When I went to wake him, he didn't know where he was and he was warm to the touch." Eon was happy to know he could trust that Jet Vac would always get to the point, he rarely beat around the Bush, and it was good to know that he cared for Spyro as much as Eon did. Still, the troll in the room hadn't been properly addressed.

"What should we do?" Eon asked, glancing at his boy, who looked like he was holding onto the rope of the tire swing for dear life.

Jet Vac followed Eons gaze. "I think we wait for him to come to us, he's prideful Eon. He won't forgive us if we force him to recover."

"You and I both know that he won't come to us. He'll collapse from exhaustion before he asks for help," Eon thought back on how Spyro used to be when he was young, the late night talks about his nightmares, his fears, his passions. Then he had gone to the academy for training and even though Eon still saw him everyday, Spyro had pulled away. And it pained him to see his boy go through this alone.

~~with Spyro~~

Spyro honestly had no idea how he managed to get up the damn tower. His head was pounding, made worse by his friends cheers and laughter, every part of his body hurt and he felt sick. Looking down, he could see Master Eon and JV talking together, but he was to far away yo make out what they were saying.

"Hey Spyro, you okay?" Eruptor asked, his fiery brow furrowed in concern. "You're paler than Elfie." Spyro quickly shook his head, trying to clear the fog he was thinking through.

"Oh yeah, I'm perfect. You know me, I cannot be brought down." Eruptor didn't look convinced.

"Okay, prove it then. Jump leap frog style to the end of the tires and back again!" Eruptor knew this was stupid, if his friend wasn't fine, he wouldn't be able to make all those jumps. But Spyro straightened his shoulders and look as indignant as possible.

"Ha! Not only will I cross the tires, I'll do it with my wings tied behind my back!" Spyro kicked himself mentally, he could barely cling to the rope of the tire swing! There was no way thus would end well, but Elfie had just pulled a length of rope from her pocket and gestured for him to turn around. There was no backing out now.

With his wings tied firmly behind him, Spyro and his friends made their way to the starting platform, Spyro kneeled into a runners start and waited for Elfie to give him the go ahead. His heart and head pounded in sync as she counted down.

"3, 2, 1! Go!" Spyro leaped from the platform onto the first tire, which swung with his momentum, using it, he leaped to the next one, and the one after that. All was well for the first few jumps, but soon he started to have trouble catching his breath, by the 7th jump he felt like he was trying to breath underwater. He managed to reach the end, and turned around to go back, barely catching the tips of his claws on the edge of the first tire, relying on luck and the pattern of the tires, he miraculously made it to the start again.

"See? Told you... I could... make it..." the last thing Spyro remembered was his vision going dark, Eruptors voice calling his name, and the odd feeling that he was falling.

~~with Eon and Jet Vac~~

Eon looked up from his conversation with Jet Vac just in time to see Spyro leap recklessly across the gap between a tire and a platform, pause for a moment and then fold like a house of cards. He watched in horror as the young Skylander plunged like a stone through the air and land with a cruel thud against the unforgiving ground. He could vaguely hear Stealth Elf yell his name while Jet Vac, Eruptor and himself called Spyros name. He made it to his mentees side and saw that, blessedly, he was still breathing, but his one leg was bent where there wasn't a joint, and he was bleeding from a cut on his head. Taking a breath, Eon took control of the situation.

"Stealth Elf, Eruptor. Climb down from there as quickly as you can and go tell Hugo to get a bed ready in the med bay. Also tell him to call a doctor. Jet Vac, I need you to run and grab the first aid kit from the Library. Go! Now!" Eruptor and Stealth Elf climbed down in such a hap hazardly manner that under normal circumstances, Eon would have scolded them. Elf looked at her fallen friend and choked on a sob before Eruptor grabbed her wrist and the two of them ran off, Jet Vac followed them before branching off onto a separate path to get to the Library. Eon looked down on the young boy on the grass before him, his breaths were laboured and short, and he was covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Oh you foolish, foolish child," Eon shook his head, "What in all of Skylands were you thinking?"

"Master Eon! I have the kit!" Jet Vac ran up the path toward his Master, kit in hand.

"Ah yes, thank you Jet Vac. Now I need your help. You and I need to make sure that Spyro is alright to move without hurting him more." Eon gently cradled Spyros head in his hands, Jet Vac cleaned the gash on Spyros head with the the tenderness one generally reserves for newborn infants. With the two of them working as a team, it wasntblong before Spyros head was bandaged and they had made sure his neck wasn't broken. Eon carefully gathered Spyro into his arms and lifted him gently, slowly making his way through the academy grounds to the med bay. They were greeted by an anxious Hugo and a doctor Eon had never met before who gestured to a neatly made up bed. Eon and the others were escorted from the room the minute Eon laid Spyro down on the crisp white sheets.

~~timeskip~~

After what felt like days but was probably a few hours, the doctor opened the door. Eon had long since sent Eruptor and Stealth Elf back to their dorm with Jet Vac to make sure they recovered from their shock, so it was just him waiting on the steps waiting for word about his boy.

"Master Eon." The doctor called out, Eon turned and stood towards the doctor, concern painted on his face, making him look older than he was.

"He has a badly fractured leg, a mild concussion and a bad case of the flu but I think that with a few days bed rest and proper eating should clear it up. The concussion and broken keg will take longer. He isn't to walk on the leg, wake him every four hours to make sure he hasn't slipped into a coma, and don't you dare let him fly." Eon thanked the Elements that Spyro was going to be okay.

"Is he awake? May I see him?" Eon pleaded with the doctor, who shrugged.

"He isn't awake yet but you can go sit with him if your quiet. Just remember that he might be a little slow on the uptake when he wakes up." The doctor stood to the side to let Eon through the doors. Spotting Spyro was easy, he was laying on his side, look in like he had been running, with his mouth slightly open. There was a cast around his left front leg as well as a thin line of stitches running across the area where previously there had been a gash.

"Oh Spyro, my boy. What were you thinking?" Eon pulled a chair closer to the bed and settled in to wait for his son to wake up.

~timeskip~~

Spyro groaned, his head hurt worse than before and his leg hurt. Opening his eyes, he noticed Eon sitting in a chair next to him. Eon heard the dragon wake up and looked down at him, a look Spyro could only describe as disappointment on his face.

"Your awake. Good." Spyro felt his heart sink, he was in for it. Eon must be so mad.

"When are you going to learn how to be part of a team?" Eon asked, frowning down at the young dragon. Spyro instantly jumped to defend himself.

"Master Eon, I swear, I am so sorry! I didn't mean to, I promise I will never bother you with something like this again!" Spyro said in a rush. Eon narrowed his eyes.

"Bother me with what again Spyro?" He asked, leaning closer to the bed. Spyro gulped.

"Being sick." He murmered, looking down at his paws. Eon softened.

"My dear boy, being part of a team means trusting the others on it to help you when you need it! I'm not angry your sick, I am, however, frustrated that you didn't tell anyone you were feeling ill! We could have helped you, or at the very least have known and made it slightly less miserable for you." Eon gently pulled the young dragon to his chest.

"Spyro, you are fourteen years old, I don't expect you to deal with an illness completely alone! Even I like having others around when I'm sick!" Eon felt the child shudder into his robes, his breathing hitching into sobs.

"My poor Spyro," Eon rubbed circles into Spyros back, "you and I used to be so close, why didn't you come talk to me?" Spyro cried a little harder.

"I didn't want to bother you." He choked out, pull in back to wipe the tears from his eyes. Eon moved his hand to Spyros face.

"My brilliant boy, you could never bother me. Never." Eon laid Spyro down on the bed and curled up next to him, whispering comforting words in his ear until he fell asleep.

When Jet Vac came in to check on his student and his Master, he found them both fast asleep, Spyro curled in Eons arms. He smiled and left them to sleep.

FIN

#skylanders academy #sickfic #Eon is Spyros adopted dad #everything is fluffy #jet vac is also Spyros dad #Eon and JV are not dating though #trans!JetVac #he's FTM #his family doesnt accept him for it #the Skylanders do

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kiheons · 6 years

Text

Say What You Mean, Mean What You Say

hewwo it’s me again with more craquaria. this time inspired by this post https://craquariaprompts.tumblr.com/post/173643036702/craquaria-prompt-aquaria-accidentally-sexts-miz posted by @craquariaprompts

I literally wrote this in one sitting and it was 5am by the time i finished to please excuse the bullshit ending. its been a while since i’ve written so go easy on me.

includes phone sex, sharing nudes and sexting

Brianna blinked at the TV screen as Netflix loaded up yet another episode of Parks and Rec, a show she had seen a billion times. It was 12:30 on a Friday night and there was nothing quite as pathetic as being a 20 something sitting at home, eating leftover Indian food, and watching Netflix for 3 hours straight. Yawning, Brianna checked her phone only to see a text from her landlord about rent. Katelyn hadn’t even texted her, that traitor. Opening up Snapchat instead Brianna scooped up a spoonful of curry, dropping some rice on her sweatshirt. God, she really had hit rock bottom hadn’t she? Flipping through her friends’ stories, Brianna grimaced. Of course everyone she knew was doing something fun. Monet was at some play with Yuhua and Dusty, while Katelyn’s story was filled with selfies and Aquaria making out with some rando.

Wait what? Brianna immediately sat up straight, looking at the video of Aquaria kissing a blonde sloppily while Katelyn cheered her on in the background. Tapping Aquaria’s story open immediately Brianna watched through videos of Katelyn and Aquaria dancing before selfies with the blonde started popping up. Pictures of Aquaria kissing her on the cheek, captioned “found my wife!!!!” and a video of Aquaria shamelessly grinding on the girl played and Brianna’s heart sank to the floor. Brianna had been harboring a secret crush on Aquaria for nearly a year, something she would never admit to Aquaria. They had been friends for a while before going through a brief fallout last year and their relationship was only starting to come back to what it used to be a few years ago. Brianna wasn’t going to risk ruining that with a stupid crush. Brianna hadn’t dated since she broke up with Bob 8 months ago and she’d only gotten laid twice since then. Aquaria was gorgeous with long black hair, sharp eyes and an amazing body. Of course Brianna was projecting her fantasies on one of the prettiest people on this planet.

But seeing the pictures hurt more than Brianna thought they would. She immediately closed out of the app, her mood becoming more sour than it already was. She couldn’t even enjoy Parks and Rec anymore, turning off the TV in frustration. It was like she had too much energy all of a sudden and Brianna felt jittery and irritated. There was usually only one solution for this. Years of karate had trained Brianna to keep up a fairly strict workout routine which was something Brianna used to let out her frustrations of the day. Pushing her coffee table out of the way, Brianna grabbed the yoga mat that was usually propped up against the couch and rolled it out on the floor before she started a set of pushups, determined to get Aquaria and the mystery blonde out of her mind.

2 hours and a small Youtube break later Brianna’s phone buzzed as she was halfway through her 6th set. Wiping sweat off her forehead, Brianna sat cross legged as she checked her phone. It was a text from Katelyn letting Brianna know that she was going home with a guy. Brianna texted back quickly, telling her to be safe and have fun. Katelyn responded with a thumbs up emoji and Brianna sighed. At least her best friend was getting laid, even if Brianna herself wasn’t. Setting down her phone Brianna was about to finish her set when her phone buzzed again. Rolling over on her side, Brianna opened her messages, expecting yet another message from Katelyn only to see a notification from Aquaria. Brianna frowned in confusion. It was almost three in the morning. The only reason Brianna could think of explaining Aquaria texting so late was if there was some kind of emergency. Brianna opened Aquaria’s message immediately, scared that something had happened to Aquaria, only to gape at the picture and accompanying text that Aquaria sent.

It was a picture of Aquaria topless, showing off her small, perky tits, her inky black hair cascading down over her shoulders. The picture cut off half her face but showed her biting cherry red lips, while one hand cupped her right breast. The text sent along with the picture said “I’m pretty, aren’t I?” along with a winking emoji. Brianna swallowed heavily. There is no way this picture was for her. Aquaria had never expressed any interest in Brianna that wasn’t platonic so it must have been accidently sent to her. Brianna didn’t want to make Aquaria feel embarrassed about accidently sending a nude to the wrong person but there was no way this wasn’t going to be an awkward conversation. Brianna’s fingers hovered above the screen, second guessing all her replies. “Lemme smash” was not only stupid but completely inappropriate and “You’re so beautiful” was going way too hard. Eventually, Brianna decided on what seemed like a neutral text.

Me: “You look good but I’m pretty sure you sent this to the wrong person”

That seemed like a safe enough text. At the very least it would reassure Aquaria that it was a very flattering picture of her. If the fact that Brianna was squeezing her thighs together and squirming in arousal at the picture was enough proof that Aquaria looked good. Sending the text, Brianna immediately regretted it. What if Aquaria thought her reply was weird and decided to never talk to her again? Brianna cursed, wishing she could undo the text before the little bubble that indicated Aquaria typing popped up. Brianna’s blood ran cold. This was it, their friendship was done for sure because Brianna decided to be stupid. Brianna clutched her phone, hoping she could disappear right there and then and never have to read Aquaria’s reply before her phone buzzed. Brianna looked down at her phone, expecting the worst.

Aqua: “Whoops! Sorry about that, Brooke and Brianna are right next to each other :P”

That was not the message Brianna was expecting. As least Aquaria didn’t find Brianna’s reply to be totally weird. Chewing her lip, Brianna send her message before she could even think about it.

Me: “Is Brooke the girl in your snap story?”

Brianna watched anxiously as Aquaria typed back.

Aqua: “Yep, she’s cute isn’t she? Do you think she’ll like the picture?”

Brianna grimaced. Brooke was okay at best. Not nearly as hot as Aquaria. But Brianna wasn’t about to be that friend and tell Aquaria she thought her hook-up was unattractive.

Me: “Yeah she’s cute. You look sexy in the picture so I’m sure she’ll like it.”

Aquaria’s reply was fast.

Aqua: “I’m just scared she won’t reply. I think I pissed her off.”

Raising an eyebrow, Brianna texted back.

Me: “Pissed her off? Why?”

Aqua: “She gave me her number and I told her she’s almost as pretty as my friend Brianna. I don’t think she appreciated that.”

Aqua: “In my defense I had just taken shots.”

Brianna stared at her phone. Had Aquaria really tried to flirt with this girl by comparing her to Brianna? It sounded impossible, especially since Aquaria had never even so much as hinted that she thought Brianna was pretty like that.

Me: “Oh. Yeah she’s probably pissed off then.”

Aqua: “Dammit. I was hoping to get at least an orgasm out of her.”

Blushing deeply, Brianna tapped out a reply with shaking hands. In the years Brianna had know Aquaria she was never overtly sexual. Yes, she wore skimpy outfits and went out often but Aquaria was always very private about her sex life. Brianna felt like she was hearing something she wasn’t mean to hear.

Me: “That’s unfortunate.”

There was no good way to respond to what Aquaria had just said. The whole situation was completely unexpected. Brianna squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shut out images of Aquaria touching herself. Pinching her own nipples as she rubbed her clit, gasping and moaning under her own touch. Those plush red lips parting as she begged for someone to touch her, for Brianna to touch her. Brianna could imagine running her hands over Aquaria’s smooth, pale skin, tracing her waist and hips. Squeezing her ass as Aquaria whined for Brianna to touch her properly, her panties soaked with wetness.

A sudden buzz broke Brianna out of her fantasy. She immediately felt ashamed for thinking about Aquaria like that. Aquaria didn’t feel that way about her, she was clearly reading into it too much.

Aquaria: “Honestly you’re so much prettier than her. She clearly wasn’t a natural blonde. I could see her roots. You have nicer lips too. They look really soft.”

Brianna felt like she was losing her mind. Aquaria had never talked to her like this, hadn’t even so much as hinted at it. There was no way this was actually happening.

Me: “Aquaria, are you drunk? This is totally out of the left field.”

Aquaria: “I’m not I promise. I had a few shots but nothing too crazy. I’m not as nervous now so I guess that’s why I can tell you all this stuff. I usually get so nervous talking to you.”

Aquaria: “Sorry, am I being weird? I’m weird aren’t I?”

Brianna was in complete shock. Aquaria was nervous about talking to her? Nothing about cool, confident Aquaria could ever indicate that she was nervous about talking to Brianna of all people. All Brianna did was act a fool and get anxious over stupid stuff.

Me: “You’re being kinda weird but not in a bad way. This is just really sudden.”

Me: “You get nervous talking to me? Really?”

Part of Brianna worried that this was all part of some huge elaborate joke. Maybe Katelyn had put Aquaria up to this or maybe Aquaria herself was messing with Brianna. But the nudes seemed too far for Aquaria if it was a joke.

Aquaria: “Yeah. Brianna, you’re so pretty. Your hair? You literally look like a barbie it’s gorgeous. And you have the best ass I’ve ever seen. You’re also funny as hell. I can barely get through a sentence without fucking up but you’re out there giving full speeches and shit. It’s hot as fuck.”

Brianna’s face was burning as she read Aquaria’s message. Aquaria thought she was pretty and had a nice ass. Never in a million years did Brianna think Aquaria secretly felt that way about her. Before Brianna could respond her phone buzzed.

Aquaria: “Brianna can I send you something? You can say no if you don’t want me to.”

Brianna’s mouth went dry. All she could think of was another risque picture like the one Aquaria had sent her accidently. Aquaria couldn’t possibly mean something like that, could she?

Me: “Yeah, go ahead.”

Holding her breath in anticipation, Brianna pressed her thighs together. She could feel herself getting wetter throughout the whole conversation, her nipples hard and straining against the bralette she was wearing under her sweatshirt. Anxiously, she watched the little bubble until Aquaria responded.

Brianna couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her when she got Aquaria’s message. It was a picture of Aquaria, taken at a high angle, on her knees with her thighs spread, in a pair of skimpy, red panties. Her lips were parted, pink tongue poking out between them. Her shoulders and neck were flushed and her hair was tossed over one shoulder. One hand was pinching her right nipple. She looked absolutely amazing and Brianna wanted to devour her.

Aquaria: “Is it too much?”

Brianna’s hands were shaking as she typed out a reply. Her stomach was doing somersaults and she could feel herself throbbing in arousal.

Me: “Fuck, you look so hot.”

As she waited for Aquaria to respond Brianna squirmed on the floor, she could feel herself dripping wetness, head swimming with nothing but thoughts of Aquaria. To her surprise, Aquaria sent another picture.

Aquaria: “Brianna, I want you.”

Aquaria was stretched out across her bed, hair spread in an pitch black halo around her head. Her nipples were hard and Brianna wanted nothing more than to play with them and see Aquaria squirm and whine. But that wasn’t the highlight of the picture. Aquaria’s legs were bent at the knee, feet planted on her bed and thighs spread. Her hand disappeared into her panties and it had Brianna gasping and bringing her own hand down between her legs.

Me: “I want you too. I wish I was touching you instead.”

Sending the message, Brianna slowly rubbed at her own pussy. Even through her shorts and panties she felt a shock of pleasure. Brianna was so turned on she could barely stand it. Aquaria was one of the sexiest things Brianna had ever seen. All she could think about was Aquaria in her own bed, hand in her panties, touching herself as she took pictures for Brianna. It was so dirty and so sensual at the same time. Aquaria moaning softly as she rubbed her wet cunt and thought about Brianna.

Aquaria: “Where are you right now?”

Me: “I’m in my apartment. I’m on the floor cause I was working out when you texted.”

Aquaria: “Go to your bed. Now.”

Scrambling to her feet Brianna practically ran to her bedroom, tossing herself on her bed. She texted back quickly, sure that Aquaria was probably waiting for her reply as she touched herself.

Me: “I’m there.”

Aquaria immediately sent another picture. Brianna sobbed, grinding against the palm of her hand at the image. It was a picture of Aquaria’s panties, clinging obscenely to the swollen lips of her pussy, completely saturated with her wetness. All Brianna could think about was how badly she wanted to touch Aquaria. Kiss her as Brianna rubbed her clit and Aquaria trembled under Brianna’s touch, bucking her hips up into Brianna’s hand. Moaning for Brianna to touch her more. Aquaria’s skin was so pale and smooth, Brianna wanted to cover her in hickies and see that pale skin of her bloom with blue and purple bruises.

Me: “You’re so wet I want to touch you so bad.”

Aquaria responded within seconds, this time without a picture.

Aquaria: “Can I see you? Please?”

Aquaria: “You don’t have to if you don’t want to but I really want to see you Brianna.”

Sucking on her bottom lip, Brianna considered the request. Aquaria look amazing, all dolled up in the makeup she wore to the club, in pretty lacy panties with that amazing body. Brianna on the other hand was in a Seahawks sweatshirt and gym shorts and mismatched underwear with dirty hair tied up in a sloppy bun and no makeup.

Me: “I’m not dressed up at all. I don’t think I’ll look good.”

Aquaria: “No, you always look amazing. Please Brianna, even if it’s a selfie. I need to see you.”

Brianna moaned softly. Aquaria was pleading with her. Never had Brianna thought that she would ever hear Aquaria beg for anything. Brianna wasn’t going to deny her this one thing, even if Brianna wasn’t particularly confident about how she looked right now. Shimming off her shorts, Brianna tossed them to one side, trying to will herself to ignore that she was wearing blue cotton panties that were not nearly as sexy as Aquaria’s. Rucking her sweatshirt up to her armpits and holding it up with one hand Brianna took a few pictures. She choose one where she was biting her lip, knees pressed together, and her nipples hard and visible through the yellow lacy bralette she was wearing. Quickly, she sent it before she could think too hard about it.

Aquaria: “Fuck you look amazing. Your tits look so good.”

Aquaria: “Brianna you’re making me so wet.”

Brianna flushed at Aquaria’s confession. She hadn’t felt particuarly sexy in the picture but Aquaria had clearly enjoyed it. She couldn’t believe that she was actually turning Aquaria on like this. Slipping her hand into her panties, Brianna groaned as she finally touched her swollen clit properly, her fingers immediately getting soaked in her wetness.

Aquaria: “This is your fault.”

Looking at her phone in confusion, Brianna was about to try and text back one handed when a picture came through. Brianna cursed out loud. This picture was by far the most obscene. Aquaria’s legs were spread wide, exposing herself to the camera. She wasn’t wearing any panties and all Brianna could focus on was Aquaria’s pink cunt, pretty and dripping wet, with two of Aquaria’s fingers in her hole. It took Brianna longer than it should have to realize that it wasn’t a picture but rather a video. With shaking hands Brianna clicked it open. Immediately her room was filled with sounds of Aquaria’s whimpers as she slowly fucked herself open with her fingers, her wetness shiny and her cunt leaking onto the sheets below her. The video was unsteady, shaking with each thrust of Aquaria’s fingers. Aquaria flexed her fingers and keened in pleasure. Brianna sobbed, moving her fingers against her own clit rapidly, completely overcome with arousal after seeing the video. Moving her fingers faster, Aquaria let out a broken moan, the sounds of her wet pussy absolutely filthy in the quiet room. Then Aquaria gasped out “Brianna, please fuck me.” before the video cut off.

Brianna felt like she was going to melt. She was soaking through her panties and knew that these would be completely ruined after this. Her hand was moving quickly against her own clit, slippery with how wet she was. Her nipples were hard and rubbing against the soft lace each time she moved. Putting her phone down, Brianna reached a hand up and squeezed her breast, groaning in pleasure before twisting a nipple and letting out a broken whine. She was getting closer and closer, quickly approaching the edge because of how turned on she was. Brianna’s phone buzzed again and she picked it up, hand trembling, all the while still touching her cunt.

Aquaria: “Can I call you? I need to hear your voice.”

Brianna didn’t bother to text back, instead opting to call Aquaria immediately. The phone only rang once before Aquaria picked it up, breathing heavily into the line. Neither of them said anything for a bit, Brianna instead relishing in Aquaria’s whimpers and unsteady breathing. Eventually Aquaria spoke up. “I want you to fuck me.” It was a pathetic whine, her voice shaky. Brianna gasped, “Oh God. You sound so needy.” Through the line she could hear Aquaria keen. “Please Brianna, I need you to touch me.”

Keeping her phone pressed to her ear with her shoulder, Brianna brought her hand up to play with her breasts as she pressed her fingers against her entrance, inhaling sharply at the pressure. “You were soaking wet in your video. Do you want me to fuck you like you were touching yourself? With my fingers?” Gathering more wetness, Brianna brought her hand back up to her clit, moaning softly as she rubbed it again.

Aquaria whined into the phone. “No, I-I need your mouth.” Brianna gasped, imagining Aquaria pulling at her hair and begging for more as Brianna ate her out. Licking her lips, Brianna murmured softly, “Do you want me to eat out your cunt?”

Aquaria made a sound like she was wounded, sobbing loudly into the phone. “Yes! Please, I need your mouth on my cunt so bad. Brianna, please, I need you.” Brianna cursed, “Fuck. Your fingers aren’t enough?” Aquaria whimpered, “No I need you. I-it feels good but it’s not you.”

Biting her lip, Brianna bucked her hips up into her hand, getting closer and closer to cumming. “I’ll fuck you next time, I promise. I’ll eat you out so well you won’t be able to walk.” Aquaria made an absolutely pathetic noise and Brianna could hear her shuffling around in the background. Her voice was high and strained, “B-Brianna I’m going to cum.” Brianna huffed, screwing her eyes shut as she rubbed quick, tight circles around her own clit, “M-me too. Aquaria I’m so close.”

Aquaria gasped like she was running out of air. “Say it again. My name.” Brianna whined, “Aquaria, Aquaria I’m going to cum,” Aquaria’s voice getting increasingly louder each time Brianna said it, “Aquaria you’re going to make me cum.” At this point Brianna was so close she could barely handle it and was teetering right on the edge. Then Aquaria’s voice was breathy and filled with need in her ear, “Brianna I want to hear you cum,” and Brianna could no longer hold it back anymore. She curled in on herself, moaning loudly as waves of pleasure washed over her, completely overwhelming her. Blood was roaring in her ears and she could distantly hear Aquaria saying something. As Brianna came down from the high of her orgasm, she could hear Aquaria’s voice, completely broken. “I’m so close, Brianna, I need to cum I-I need it.”

Sighing softly into the phone, Brianna whispered, “Cum for me, Aquaria.” Aquaria let out a choked gasp and the line was silent for a second before Brianna hear Aquaria whine, high in her throat. Brianna waited patiently as Aquaria’s breathing steadied out and there was nothing but silence and their breathing.

As Brianna was thinking of a way to break the silence Aquaria spoke up. Her voice sounded even more broken than it did before. “I’m sorry. This was a mistake.” Brianna’s heart stopped and she felt a sense of dread. “Aquaria? What do you mean?” Brianna was aware her voice was shaking but she couldn’t help it. After all they had just done, did Aquaria regret it?

Instead, Aquaria sniffled into the phone. “I shouldn’t have made you do this. You don’t even like me that way, this wasn’t fair to you. I can understand if you don’t want to be friends after this.” The sniffling got louder and Brianna was quite sure that Aquaria was crying. “Aquaria, are you crying? Please don’t cry it’s not like that at all,” The alarm in Brianna’s voice as evident. She couldn’t believe that Aquaria thought Brianna would toss away their friendship over something like this. “I don’t feel that way at all. I like you, as more than a friend. You’re so talented, smart and beautiful. The only way I’m okay with ending our friendship is if it means that we’ll be girlfriends instead of just friends.” Brianna’s voice trembled as she admitted it. She had long thought about what it would be like to date Aquaria and now there was a chance of it coming true.

Aquaria was still sniffling but her voice sounded hopeful, “Really? You feel the same?” Brianna smiled to herself. “Yeah I do. If you’re okay with it, I’d love to take you on a date.”

Aquaria giggled through the phone. “I’d like that. That sounds perfect.” Brianna hear her yawn next and looked over at her bedside clock. It was nearly 4 AM. “Aquaria it’s late. I think you should go to bed. I’m tired too.”

Yawning again, Aquaria agreed. “Mmhm. I’m sleepy but I have to take my makeup off so I should probably go do that. I’ll talk to you tomorrow then?” Brianna beamed. She couldn’t believe this was happening. The relationship she had been dreaming about for months was coming true. “Okay, goodnight Aquaria.” Aquaria laughed softly, “Night, Brianna.”

As she hung up, Brianna flopped her arm to the side, staring up at her ceiling. Within a span of a few hours it was like her entire life changed. Picking up her phone again, Brianna texted Katelyn.

Me: So I think me and Aquaria are dating now

Katelyn: OMG? Seriously? Tell me everything right now

Brianna grinned to herself. This relationship was already off to a good start.

#craquaria #let me know if the font is terrible and i'll fix it tomorrow #here you go kids #i decided to go with black hair #apparently i switched midway from aquaria being saved in brianna's phone as aqua to her being saved as aquaria #i fixed it on ao3 but i'm too lazy to fix it here #dill with it #my fic

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satorisa · 5 years

Text

Lift the Veil - Chapter 12: Easily

Rating: T

Summary: After living in Tokyo for the past six years, she decides to head back to Azumano to escape the big city. However, she now has to face everything that she tried to flee from all those years ago. How exactly will she fare when the pages of a long forgotten book start turning once more?

Alternate links for reading available in my description!

Hover over the chapter title if you’d like some easy listening to compliment this spicy update! ;)

(please take this before finals hell hits me because feelings hell already has and i am currently drowning in them while clinging onto anything to get me out of it.)

Chapter 12 – Easily

Coming and going, inside out, back to front all tangled and messy: that’s how we’ve been

The morning following our return, I received an e-mail asking me to head into the news station first thing in the morning. And so, stricken with a terrible case of jet lag, I trudged in looking as fierce as I could to mask the tiredness, greeting the ever-present security guard and coworkers I’d barely spoken to until I arrived at my superior’s office. He greeted me, all smiles, insisting that I sit down despite telling him I was fine standing up; if I sank down into that ottoman, I knew I’d pass out immediately.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Sugisaki-san’s retirement last week.”

I remembered Takeshi mentioning an old coot finally leaving a while back and skimming through an e-mail while in Vienna about someone’s many years of hard work, but I didn’t recall who exactly it was, so I just nodded. At least I had an idea.

“That old coot’s been here longer than I’ve been in charge, and it was something to see that man churn out broadcast after broadcast with those bony hands of his!” He laughed. “We’re sad to see such an integral part of our team go, but it’s better he leaves before he actually breaks like a twig!” Yet another round of laughter. “However, his departure has opened up a spot on our broadcasting team and so, with our station’s best interests in mind, we decided to have you take his role!”

This didn’t come as a surprise from all the office gossip I had heard so, with a practiced smile, I thanked him. He tried to make small talk, but I told him that I needed to delegate my work to the other editors and talk to the team to understand what my promotion entailed, so he let me go.

I headed to my cubicle and took out my phone to share the news. I called Takeshi first since he deserved (and needed) to hear the news before anyone else. He picked up not even after a full ring, asking me what was holding me up.

“Good morning to you, too,” I answered.

“Don’t give me your sass. I know you’re back; is it the jetlag? Still at your apartment?”

“Nope. I’m actually at the news station; I’ve been promoted to become a part of the broadcasting team.”

“Congratulations, Risa! I mean, I’m not surprised because of all those rumors that were floating around, but damn, I wish I could be super happy for you.”

“What? Jealous of me going places in my life?”

“Nah, I’m perfectly fine living the life of a groveling reporter. I just wish they’d given me some prior notice about your promotion; I’m gonna miss ya, Risa.”

“Aw. I appreciate your sentiment, but you really should save that for Akane.”

Takeshi groaned. “I swear, you and the Chief always have to ruin a good thing with ya’lls sarcasm. Anyhow, I should probably—Chief!”

“What the hell do you want?” I heard Hiwatari grumble softy from the receiver. Yikes.

“It’s Risa!” I could imagine Takeshi shoving his phone in front of Hiwatari’s unamused face.

“…why should I take it?’

“Dude, I know you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, clearly, but just briefly entertain me. Please. You won’t be disappointed.”

Hiwatari sighed, and I could hear him grabbing the phone from Takeshi. “Hello, Harada-san. Has jet lag pinned our one and only editor to her bed, which explains her absence this morning?”

“Haha, very funny,” I drawled. “Don’t doubt I’ll be pinned to some sort of seat soon because yeah, it’s killing me right now, but no. I’m actually at the news station right now. I just got promoted a while ago.”

“Really? Congratulations, Harada-san. I’m finally free from your extended company in my station. Takeshi, grab the salt so we can cleanse this place of her presence.”

I heard Takeshi cackling in the background while I rolled my eyes. “In all seriousness, I’m happy for you. Really. I’m sure Takeshi’s planning something for your lunch later underneath that bed head of his, but I have a prior engagement, so I won’t be able to be there. How does dinner at my apartment sound?”

“Oh my, Hiwatari-san! So forward! You’re making me blush!”

“Ha. Ha.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Glad to disappoint.”

“But yeah, that sounds good.”

“I’m glad. I’ll see you later then.” I heard him hand the phone to Takeshi.

“Yo, how the hell did you manage to cheer him up so quickly? He looked about ready to kill everyone within a meter of him when he walked in this morning slightly late.”

“Happiness is contagious?”

“Are you sure it’s happiness, or is it—”

“No.”

“Come on! Lemme have my fun here.”

“And risk having Hiwatari return to his foul mood because he overheard you spouting nonsense?”

“You right. Anyways, stay hungry because I’ve got a feast planned for you later!”

“Hopefully packed with caffeine and B-12 vitamins to help me get through this day?”

“Does tiramisu work?”

“Good enough.”

“Anyways, you should—huh?” I heard muffled mumbling. “Hey, Chief said to make sure to call your parents about it.”

“Huh.”

“Weeird. Anyways, good luck with today! You’re gonna kill it, Boss.”

With a smile on my face, we hung up. I decided to message Riku, Daisuke, and Ritsuko since I figured they’d be busy. Hiwatari’s words hung in my mind as I pulled up my mother’s number. My thumb hovered over it until I took a deep breath and decided to call her.

I expected to get her voicemail, but she picked up, greeting me with that light-hearted tone of hers. “Good morning, Risa, dear. How’re you?”

“I…um…got promoted. I’ll be working on the broadcast now instead of editing stories.”

“Congratulations! Have you told your father yet?”

“No. I was going to call him after I called you.”

“Well, we should celebrate this! Is there a day when you’re free for dinner?”

“I’ll…um…I’ll let you know later. Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re very welcome!”

We said nothing for several seconds, and I gulped. Did she have anything else to say? Did I have anything else to tell her? I—

“Well, I’ll leave you to call your father. Have a nice day, dear!”

I heard the disconnected line and sighed before calling my dad. He picked up quickly as well: right after one ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Dad. I, uh, just got promoted. I’m working on the broadcast instead of just editing stories.”

“Good.” There wasn’t much fanfare compared to when I called Mom; I didn’t expect there to be. He had expected excellence from me the moment I was born and, for most of my life, I really couldn’t offer that to him. Only when I was accepted into Todai and worked at the NHK did he acknowledge me, ever so briefly because of how hell bent I was to become estranged from anything related to Azumano, so his praises never fully reached me.

Clearly, my parents were not the only ones at fault here, but I digress.

“Congratulations. You’ve done well.”

He it said it with that gruff voice of his, tinged with subtle pride, that sparsely echoed through my childhood. I nearly choked up hearing it. Was I deprived of parental attention? Totally.

“I’ll let you go. If you come back early tonight, we should talk.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Dad. Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

Yet another disconnected line. Glad I had gotten those awkward interactions out of the way, I started getting to work, hoping that I wouldn’t burn myself out before lunch arrived.

…

At noon, I started packing up, expecting to meet Takeshi at the police station when I saw him leading Daisuke, Riku, and Ritsuko towards my cubicle. Daisuke had a vase full of flowers while Riku carried bags full of food from the restaurant she worked at. Ritsuko paraded her small balloon bouquet around, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Missing the Chief already?” Takeshi snidely asked once in my cubicle.

“No? Why would I?”

“You did spend a whole week with him in a foreign city.” Ritsuko pointed out.

“So?”

“Well—”

“Continue that sentence, Takeshi. I dare you.”

Takeshi pouted while everyone laughed before placing their gifts in my cubicle. Lunch was a nice affair, especially since Riku had brought exactly what I was craving, but it was cut short when lunch break ended since Daisuke, Riku and Ritsuko had to head back to work, leaving me with a very, very curious looking Takeshi.

Oh no.

“Now that everyone’s gone, I need the deets.”

“On what?”

“Your trip with the Chief! I knew something was up after you called earlier this morning, but he then spent the rest of the morning gushing over you like some poor, love-struck bastard.”

“Now I know you’re embellishing it.”

“Okay, maybe I am, but still! He was in a much better mood after talking to you, so explain!”

“There’s nothing to explain? We just got closer because of the circumstances of our trip.”

“Because you two shared a room?”

“Um, no?” Takeshi looked at me, expecting me to elaborate. “Even if we did have to sleep at a hotel, I’m pretty sure Kosuke-san and Hiwatari-san would’ve booked me a separate room.”

“…then where the hell’d you guys sleep if ya’ll weren’t at a hotel?”

“Did Hiwatari-san not tell you?”

“Sorry, he was a little busy gloating about you all morning to tell me about whatever juicy detail you’re hiding from me—spill!”

“Kei duped us into thinking that he died, so we stayed at his fancy apartment while we were there.”

He blinked before his face ran through a range of emotions. Eventually, he settled on some level of discomfort before leaning back in his seat.

“Ah, so he’s here. That’s explains it.”

I only looked at him in confusion, expecting him to fill me in especially since I so graciously satiated his curiosity earlier, but he didn’t. Takeshi just jumped up before stretching his arms over his head.

“Well, if anything, I’m glad you two are getting along again.” I opened my mouth to say something but Takeshi finished stretching. “Well, I’ve got a story to type up so I’m gonna go slave away in my cubicle. Happy working, Boss!”

He disappeared with a dramatic wave, and I couldn’t help but question what was going through his mind. But I had better things to worry about than the little mystery Takeshi brought up, so I went back to working, reenergized from the food and time with friends.

…

I walked out of the meeting room with a splitting headache, frustrated at my stubborn coworkers who refused to listen to my opinion. Maybe the old men were intimidated by my quick promotion. And, while the women were probably feeling the same way, I also wouldn’t put it past them if they were jealous that I worked with Hiwatari. (For whatever reason, that man was a hot commodity for all the single ladies in the office, some sort of idol figure for those who weren’t, and many of them were quite desperate to fill my old position assuming HR wanted to keep it.)

My phone rang, and I picked up without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Harada-san.” Hiwatari? What did he need? “When will you be getting off of work?”

“After the broadcast. What’s up?”

“Is it fine if I accompanied you back to my apartment?”

I laughed. “Is this what you called me for? Really?”

“Yes. After what happened in Vienna, I’m not quite sure—”

“Hey. Stop bringing it up and making this awkward for us. Please. We’ll deal with it whenever it decides to rear its ugly head at us again which, considering our track record, might happen pretty soon, but don’t you dare jinx it. Knock on wood for us if you’re able to.” He laughed. “Anyways, I’ll let you know when I’m about to head out, so don’t pass out on me or anything.”

“I might…I am—”

“Don’t try to spite me, boy. I’ve got a headache, and I know damn well you’re more than capable enough to keep yourself from keeling over on the streets.”

“Yes’m,” he replied like a dutiful child after a scolding. “I’ll see you soon. Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

We hung up before I sat down in my cubicle, leaning in my chair and looking at the speckled ceiling. Why were my coworkers being so unresponsive now? I offered friendly suggestions and recommendations that they were receptive to back as an editor, but the moment I began planning our daily broadcasts, they all decide to throw a hissy fit.

Straightening up, I looked at the monitor, staring at the schedule for the primetime broadcast. Everything looked in order, but who knew what could occur leading up to it. Taking a huge gulp of my tea, I gathered my papers and notes before heading to the broadcasting room.

I need to be ready for hell, whatever that may entail.

…

The broadcast was awful in terms of how unpolished everything felt which made me feel equally as, if not more so, awful, so I had politely declined the after-work party my coworkers were hosting to celebrate my promotion (which wasn’t improving my reputation any for sure, but I’d rather they judge me for that than a rage-induced, drunken tirade during which I would proceed to make them feel as insignificant as possible) before heading back to my cubicle to pack my things. Takeshi had long left, leaving a poorly drawn doodle of himself on a sticky note he placed on my monitor, making me feel marginally better.

I lounged in my chair, mentally decompressing until I felt my phone vibrate to see a text from Hiwatari saying he just arrived at the news station. I quickly packed my stuff before heading down, waving good-bye to the security guard—one of the only friendly faces left in this building—before stepping out into the evening air.

“How was the first day of your promotion?” he asked.

“Terrible. The moment you’re put in charge of something, people’s attitudes change. Isn’t it ridiculous that something so simple can change someone’s perception of you?”

“Indeed. Titles can change everything.”

I pouted, hating how true it was. Did Hiwatari ever have to deal with that working at the police station at such a young age? Or was it something he’d dealt with for his whole life?

Hiwatari joked around the whole walk back to his apartment, spouting some crap about how he was the life of the party and, had he been present at lunch, would’ve livened the whole place up. He was being stupid, needlessly so that it was equal parts concerning yet entertaining, but he got my mind off of my train wreck of a day. If that was his sole purpose, then I applaud him for nobly sacrificing his dignity.

And, without him knowing, thank him for his kindness.

When we arrived at his apartment, I saw a man, nearly the spitting image of Kei, sitting on the sofa. He stood up and smiled at me, but I hid behind Hiwatari, trying to compose myself from seeing this doppelganger.

“Satoshi said to expect company over, but I didn’t think it’d be the one and only Harada Risa!”

Ick. He even sounded like Kei with that saccharine tone of his, veiling the jab his words carried. To anyone else, it would’ve been a wonderful compliment, but considering the context of my relationship with Hiwatari, those words were loaded. “One and only” meant that I was a very, very special girl to Hiwatari. And no, that special wasn’t meant to praise me at all.

Wait—

“Are you Hiwatari-san, biker extraordinaire?” I asked.

Kazama laughed. “Yes, indeed! I am Uncle Kazama, biker and lawyer extraordinaire. Pleasure to finally meet you!”

“It’s, uh nice to meet you, too…”

Well, that explained his overbearing presence. The cheerfulness exuding from someone who looked almost like Kei only made it worse, so I forced an uncomfortable smile. He headed to the kitchen, checking on whatever was cooking while Hiwatari dismissed himself to his room.

“So, Harada-san, tell me: what spurred my nephew to invite a fine woman such as yourself over for dinner?” Kazama asked with an insinuating tone.

“Um…Hiwatari-san invited me over to make up for his absence during lunch.”

“Sorry about that; he had to go pick me up from the station.” Kazama tasted his food and nodded approvingly. With how wonderful it smelled, I was nodding approvingly inside my head, too. “So, is lunch together with him a regular thing then?”

“Oh no. My friends held a lunch celebration earlier to celebrate my promotion today.”

“And his absence from that so happened to give him an opportunity to celebrate alone with you? Spicy!”

I cleared my throat. “Anyways, what brings you here?”

“Just checking up on my nephew and catching up with old pals.” Takeshi’s reaction to Kazama being in town earlier told me there was more to his words than he let on, but I understood why he was so guarded. I’m the “one and only” Risa Harada. From his point of view, I was probably just a tick that just needed to explode and die from being too greedy.

Hiwatari decided at that time to walk into the living room wearing a ratty t-shirt and faded plaid pajama pants. I couldn’t hold back my laughter at seeing him so…so…

“Now I know Emiko taught you better!” Kazama called.

“I can dress myself perfectly fine when I choose to, but there’s no one I need to impress here, and I want to be comfortable in my own—goddammit, Harada-san. Stop laughing!”

If he didn’t need to impress me, then Hiwatari probably didn’t see me as anything more than a good friend. And anything that reassured me about the platonic nature of…whatever the hell this was, comforted me. Even though our interactions hadn’t changed much from high school, they didn’t carry any extra meanings.

Consciously, anyway.

Eventually, I calmed down, and the three of us had dinner. Kazama’s cooking was delicious: much better than anything Hiwatari and I could make even if we cooked together. And when we finished eating, queued by the end of a hilarious story about Hiwatari as a child, Kazama said he had plans and left the apartment, leaving me and Hiwatari in charge of the dishes. And it gave me space to breathe from Kei’s look-a-like.

“God,” I gasped as I stacked the dirty plates. “He’s, um, something.”

“It’s a shock, isn’t it?”

“Yes!”

Hiwatari laughed as he stood at the sink, ready and waiting for the dishes. “You’re not the only one; it took everyone a while to finally get used to him when he started visiting Azumano.”

“I can imagine. That’s not a personality we’ve come to associate with that face, but he’s on par with Kei with that presence of his.”

He laughed again as I handed him the first set of dirty dishes. Thankfully, nothing occurred while we cleaned up, and we eventually migrated to the sofa once we finished. Hiwatari placed two of cups of scotch on the low table in front of us, and I cautiously eyed him as he took his first sip.

“Is there something wrong, Harada-san?”

“…I’m not going to see that side of you tonight, am I?”

“I guarantee you won’t. It takes more than this to get me to that point, so don’t worry.” He took another sip and sighed with content, like an old, successful business man. I almost expected him to surprise me and pull out a pack of cigars to finish off the image, but he pulled out his cigarettes and lit one.

“Are you stressed?”

“I love Kazama, but his ‘damage control’ visits tend to be very…stressful. For everyone. He’s quite good at it, I suppose, but he takes those words far too seriously.” Before I could ask what he meant by that, he stood up and opened a window. “Enough about Kazama though. Sorry if I overstep a boundary, but you don’t seem too enthusiastic about your promotion. You’re one step closer to achieving your dream of becoming a news anchor and, knowing you, you’d be more excited about it; your coworkers’ attitude wouldn’t even bother you.”

I frowned at him bringing that up before taking a sip of my drink. Yikes. That was strong and disgusting. Hiwatari shot me a look, probably offended by my instinctive reaction. “Okay, wow. That was something. And um, yeah. I appreciate your bluntness but, uh, you bringing that up is kind of stressing me out more than your uncle right now. Are you sure you’re not the one on damage control right now?”

“Sorry. Um…” Hiwatari Satoshi, reduced to a bumbling mess. What a sight to behold. “I was just concerned. And, if I were on damage control, you and I both know we wouldn’t be talking about your job.”

I groaned. “Can you guys just let me leave it in the past? Please?”

“I’m just warning you about Kazama should you ever find yourself alone with him. Trust me. He’s going to find a way to bring it up one way or another.”

I gulped down the scotch, coughing as it burned down my throat: the epitome of the taste of regret. No one told me that an innocuous invitation for dinner could possible lead to me getting burned and grilled by Hiwatari’s uncle as the coup de grace to this awful day. Granted I couldn’t have possibly known when I had accepted it, but still!

Shit!

“Harada-san, I’m offended that you’ve disrespected my drink twice already. But must you treat it like a shot? It’s meant to—”

…

Growing up, I knew I wanted a job that would make me famous. I had this huge obsession with becoming noticed in the world that I set my sights on stardom.

The attempts I had in child modeling and acting, despite my talent for it, fell short when many of the gigs that would propel me to the public’s eye required long stays in Tokyo that neither of my parents had the time to allot for. (And, frankly speaking, my father thought was nonsense.) I wasn’t limber enough to get anywhere in dancing, and my singing voice with its normal timbre and average range would only land me a semi-regular gig at a café or bar at best. Whatever attempts I had with playing instruments or creating art failed because I didn’t believe in practice, only perfection at first try, and I hated sitting down for such long periods of time. And so, after turning on the TV and watching the news that one fateful day, I set my sights on becoming a news anchor.

It was a dream that carried me through middle and high school, eventually landing me at the prestigious University of Tokyo. However, after deciding to double major for both the extra experience and added job security, I found myself enjoying Japanese Literature more than Journalism.

So much so that I wondered why I decided to intern at new stations instead of publishing companies. Maybe I was so transfixed on carrying out my childhood dream to its end that I became oblivious to how much I had changed.

This certainly wasn’t the first time my attachment to the past had sent me down a path I didn’t think was the right one to take. And if I only continued to stay in the past, it was no wonder that I kept losing sight of my present, hindering the future full of opportunities I couldn’t see.

…

When Kazama returned, Hiwatari had just finished drinking the scotch he poured for me. Honestly, I preferred having a beer or a fruity cocktail whenever I drink, so Hiwatari procured a can of beer for me before graciously indulging in my portion. By this point, he had gotten somewhat talkative and disturbingly smiley, and his intermittent giggles started to terrify me, so I was glad for Kazama’s arrival.

“It’s about time for me to head out,” I said as I started to stand up. “Thanks for having me over.”

“You’re welcome.” Hiwatari placed the crystal glass on the table and stood up, stretching his arms. “Let me—”

“I’ll walk her back, big boy.” Kazama offered. “You go sober up and get some rest. You’ve got work tomorrow!”

Hiwatari hesitated, probably worried to leave me alone with Kazama. But he complied, maybe realizing that there was no way he could help me weasel out of this, bidding us goodnight (and offering me an apologetic smile) before disappearing into his room.

Me and Kazama? What could possibly go wrong as I leave the boiling pot, only to find myself in the frying pan?

Kazama offered me a polite smile, probably out of courtesy before tears me apart. “Well then, shall we?”

Nodding, we left the apartment for the cool, evening air that only got colder with Kazama next to me. He started the conversation easily, making small talk that obviously skirted around his true intention. Only when we reached a stoplight did he shoot me yet another polite smile, so eerily close to Kei’s, that it sent shivers down my spine. And, from my experience with Kei, I knew that this was a precursor of great doom for me.

“Would you like to grab coffee with me?” he asked. “There’s a café called Mizuame de Noisette that I wanted to try.”

“I, um, don’t like coffee all that much.” I cautiously replied. Why the hell did he want to invite me to that specific place? Did he know?

I scanned his expression, but I couldn’t discern anything from that stupid smile on his face. He was waiting to strike, and I knew exactly what he would do from Hiwatari’s well-meant warning earlier, but I didn’t know how badly this viper’s bite was. Nor did I want to find out that day. Or ever, to be honest, but this was inevitably going to happen because old men liked to dig their nose into my business with Hiwatari.

What a fate.

“Then perhaps tea?”

“I’m trying not to spend too much this month.”

“My treat.”

“Honestly, I just want to go home right now.” The light turned, and we started walking. “Stop trying to invite me somewhere, and just come out with it.”

He let out a hearty guffaw. “I like your spunk! So, I’m assuming you know why I’m here then?”

“I have a vague idea, so what’s your deal with me?”

“Oh, I’m sure you know all too well. I actually don’t like you all that much, Harada Risa-san. You’ve done enough to Satoshi, and you decide to crawl back to Azumano for no particularly compelling reason and literally break my perfectly functional nephew with just the sight of you. And please don’t give me that victim bullshit; you’re not the only one who suffered from the consequences of your fever-induced kiss.”

I shot Kazama a look. God, he was even more like Kei than I thought. Scratch that. Kei was an angel compared to this fire spewing demon. I didn’t realize that this was what that bubbly personality was hiding.

“Don’t you dare scold me right now,” I growled. “Just get to the damn point because I barely know you, and you’re meddling far more than I’m comfortable with you doing.”

“You and Satoshi are like Cesium and water: contact with each other not only causes an explosion but also breaks everything surrounding the two of you. There was no need for you to come back; you literally ruined the equilibrium that everyone you left had finally reached. You deserve whatever loneliness you feel when you’re here because you no longer have a place here.”

“Fuck. You,” I snarled. “I left my family and friends here to try to move on with my life! Did you think I wanted to do that?! Todai be damned; if it meant that I could finally feel at home here, if it meant that I didn’t ever have to leave so that no one would find out and be torn between two sides, then I would happily trade my degree in for that peace of mind. I was so, so miserable in Tokyo, and I wanted come back home despite Hiwatari-san’s presence because I deserve to be happy, even if that meant having to finally face the consequences of my past decisions. And if I’m going to have to put work into these relationships, then so be it, but I don’t need some hotshot lawyer who knows jack shit about me saying that I have no place in the town I grew up in!”

Kazama laughed again, but that only made the anger festering inside me grow. “Feisty! Kei warned me about that but—”

“You didn’t think I’d be a total bitch? I’ve had an awful day and you, smarmy bastard who has no fucking right to smear me like that, decide that the best thing to do is to provoke me about this. I understand your belligerence, but this is just a prime example of why I never wanted people to find out. And for god’s sake, grow up and act like an adult instead of throwing this hissy fit and solely blaming me for something your ‘oh-so-perfect’ nephew has equal fault in!”

He went silent, hopefully reflecting on what I’d just said. I expected an apology or some snide comment about respecting one’s elders, especially after I had just blown up at someone older than me, but he wouldn’t relent on this damn topic. Was he just hell bent on pissing me off to the point where I might act on that niggling thought to push him onto the road, timed perfectly so that a passing truck would squish him into oblivion?

“You know you’re going to have to tell everyone about your not-so-secret secret if you’re going to open up to them.”

“I’m aware, and that is a bridge I will cross when I get there.”

“This is probably one of the worst decisions both of you have made to date.”

“You’re preaching to the choir here.”

“You two are bound to make the same mistakes again.”

“Maybe so, but people learn from their mistakes.”

We had finally turned onto my street, and I had never been so happy to finally see my house looming by the cliff since I had arrived. I quickened my pace to get away from this man who, honestly, was worse than Kei. Genuine or not, at least Kei was nicer and meant well.

“You two finally learned the important art of communication!”

“Oh, shut your—what is that?”

In front of my house, so close to escaping the company of this rancid man, Kazama pulled out a necklace from his pocket. An intricately decorated pendant depicting a blue bird in a cage hung from a delicate chain, but I shot him a look of both confusion and disgust instead of enjoying the jewelry’s craftsmanship.

“Hikari artwork.”

“Should you really—”

“It’ll do you better than the one Kei gave you. I was originally supposed to give this Satoshi, but you clearly need it more than he ever could right now.”

“Thank you,” I bitterly said.

He stuffed it into my purse before walking away. “Have a good night, Harada-san.”

“I hope you get run over by a truck.”

…

The rest of that week, after my terrible conversation with Kazama, was pretty uneventful and light-hearted outside of work. Takeshi visited me during lunch every day, bringing along Daisuke, Riku or Ritsuko if they were able to drop by. “To make up for the Chief’s absence,” Takeshi explained as if me, him, and Hiwatari had become some important lunch trio. The lunches were lovely though, minus that one time Takeshi only brought Ritsuko and they fought the whole time.

To make up for Hiwatari’s absence during lunch (which other furthered my question as to how the three of us having lunch together became a thing), he would invite me over for dinner. I tried turning him down whenever he said Kazama would be in, but Hiwatari promised that he’d made sure his uncle was on his best behavior, so I somehow endured relatively normal and tame evenings at Hiwatari’s apartment either alone with him or with Kazama’s added company. How that man effortlessly hid his nastiness behind that stupid, laid-back demeanor of his was beyond me.

And work? I didn’t realize that each and every day would amount to the same amount of stress caused by completely different things. One day it was the people. Another day it was the broadcast itself. No matter how much I tried to get everything under control, whether it be kissing up to my team or asserting myself to prevent the mayhem from getting out of hand, something would slip through my fingers and proceed to wreak havoc.

The night before Riku and Daisuke were going to fly out to Zurich, (also conveniently the night before Kazama would finally return to Tokyo) my parents decided to hold my celebratory dinner for my promotion. Takeshi, Akane, and Ritsuko all had plans that evening, and Kazama thankfully had a fun-filled night at the Niwas in store for him, so it would just be me, Hiwatari, and the couple along with my parents.

This was totally an ideal set up. Not.

While running errands that afternoon, I conveniently bumped into both Daisuke and Hiwatari, both equally frazzled in the midst of their own errand runs. (Ms. Emiko strove for absolute perfection as a host whenever guests came over, and Hiwatari only had the time and energy to perform these stupidly trivial tasks during the weekends.) We embarked on a grand adventure across Azumano, knocking off item after item on our own respective to-do lists until we arrived at the Harada mansion: our final destination.

I opened the door, greeted by the sound of clinking dinnerware and the lovely smell emanating from the kitchen. Hiwatari and Daisuke parked themselves in the living room while I headed to the kitchen to tell my family that I was back. It was empty but impeccably clean, the way my mother always wanted it, so I headed over to the dining area to see Mom and Riku plating the table. Dad stood in front of the wine cabinet, perusing our selection before deciding on several different white wines. He turned around to see me, offering me a kind smile, while Riku and Mom talked amongst themselves, grumbling about placement as they kept moving things around.

“Risa…”

Mom and Riku looked up, frazzled, before they shot me smiles as well. My mom returned to busying herself while Riku came over to me and pulled me into a hug. “Congrats, sis.” She let go of me before holding my shoulders. “Sure, your job may not be as snazzy as the one you had back in Tokyo, but it’s still reason to celebrate!”

I pouted, but Riku laughed before urging my mom to come over to me while she fixed the table, nearly undoing everything my mother had done.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, smile gentle and eyes shining before pulling me into a hug. It felt awkward at first, but I relished in it shortly after. And when my father returned from calling our guests over, he joined in as well, and I saw Daisuke, Riku, and Hiwatari behind us with knowing smiles as if sensing how much this meant to me.

Daisuke and Hiwatari sat next to each other, the former also next to Riku and the latter next to my dad, while I chose a seat between my sister and my mom. Dinner felt like a scene from those American holiday movies, feeling simultaneously homey yet foreign at the same time. I still felt slightly out of place amongst the conversation, hearing anecdotes of events I never knew occurred, of topics that required background knowledge, gained from first-hand accounts or lofty rumors, that I didn’t possess, and the familial setting imposed upon me had made it exceedingly clear that I had been displaced, and I couldn’t help but have Kazama’s words echo inside my mind every time I had to force a laugh.

Once we finished dinner, Riku and my mom dismissed themselves from the table only to return to with gifts. Daisuke and Riku gave me a matching journal and pen set while my parents gifted me a large, fashionable designer purse that I could use for work. Hiwatari didn’t have anything for me, but all the free meals he’d been treating me to that week were more than enough.

My parents left shortly after the gift exchange since they had made plans to see Kazama at the Niwa’s, leaving the four of us left to clean up. Daisuke and Hiwatari tided up the table while Riku and I washed the dishes. I could hear Hiwatari shooting terrible joke after terrible joke at Daisuke, embarrassing the poor man who didn’t need his good friend to make fun of his plans to propose to Riku soon.

“They’re ridiculous,” my sister muttered as she scrubbed the dishes.

“Leave them be. Unless you’re jealous, of course.”

“Me? Jealous of Satoshi? Risa, you must be out of your mind.”

I laughed as I dried the dishes, sorting them out so that it’d be easier to put them back. There was something soothing about this monotonous activity, and I was glad that it had gotten my mind off of dinner.

“So, how was the food?” she asked.

“Absolutely delicious. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome!” She handed me a plate. “You know, Mom and Dad are trying. They just don’t know how to approach you, especially considering how you were when you left.”

“I know. And I’m grateful for it, really.” I forced a laugh before placing the dry dish in its respective stack. “Doesn’t feel like we’ve gotten anywhere though.”

“Well, it can’t be a one-sided thing, you know. You have to try, too.” She handed me yet another plate. “It wasn’t easy for me either when they decided to barge back into my life after being practically non-existent for our childhood. ‘Family’ was contained in our Sunday brunches, formal and habitual just like mass: present and relevant for an hour only to be forgotten for the rest of the week until Sunday came around again. They nagged at me to do this and not do that, to strive to be exactly like the prodigal daughter who went off to Tokyo despite being an emotional wreck instead of dutifully playing the role of a smitten girlfriend.”

“No…”

“Yup,” she chirped. “We fought a lot in the beginning, going around in circles and arguing about the same things over and over again, but it helped to clear out the air, and we started to get better. Granted, I have a six year head start, but you’ll get there eventually. And you’re starting out on a civil note with them, so it can only be smooth sailing from here! I’m sure it’ll be a breeze compared to you and Satoshi!”

Riku, how could you bring him up in the midst of talking about our parents? I’d rather talk about them than him on any day!

“Honestly, I was so worried about you two going off to Vienna, but I’m glad it worked out for you!”

If you meant having him confess he was in love with me, us vigorously avoiding that he brought it up by coping with humor, and getting grilled at Kazama for even bothering to fix things with Hiwatari as working out for me, then sure! I was perfectly peachy.

“The two of you looked so pained that month before our high school graduation, but you two were bickering over the silliest topics over dinner that it felt like nothing changed. And if you could patch up whatever happened between you and Hiwatari, I feel like anything’s possible!”

I appreciated Riku’s vote of confidence, but I wished she’d used something else to reassure me. Anything was possible because everything had changed. My relationship between Hiwatari, while fundamentally identical on the surface, was inherently different. My parents were making an active attempt to make up for their lack of presence in my life growing up; Daisuke was planning on proposing to Riku in the coming week; I actually enjoyed Takeshi’s company: everything was different. Years had passed and, sure, some things haven’t changed, but the past was out of reach. And no matter how much we worshipped those nostalgic, rose-colored days, they were gone. I could never go back to them, thankfully, and nor did I wish to.

I wanted to be free from them, and yet it had become some arbitrary gauge to determine how “stable” Risa was. And I knew Riku meant well, but the intersection of my past with my present terrified me more than anyone could understand, more than I even wanted to admit to myself.

“…but everything has changed,” I mumbled, kind of hoping that Riku wouldn’t hear and kind of hoping she would.

“Well, yeah, but isn’t it nice to see things that have lasted the test of time and distance? It makes us think that there’s such a thing as a forever, huh?” Riku laughed. “Look at me getting all mushy! I probably had too much wine to drink.”

She went back to talking about our parents, laughing about something hilarious they had done on a Christmas morning during my absence, while I listened and laughed along, forcing myself to solely focus on the task at hand.

Forever, huh?

…

Riku and Daisuke had already retreated to her room for some alone time, leaving me and Hiwatari downstairs, drinking beer and watching dramas. While Hiwatari winced at every romantic cliché that popped up, I relished in each and every single one of them, breaking Hiwatari down until, he too, shed his repulsed demeanor and turned into the helpless sap he had admitted, on several occasions, that he was.

Once the credits rolled, playing a super catchy theme song, I let out the laugh I had been repressing. Hiwatari shot me a frown.

“Had I known you would laugh at me, I would not have let you see me like this.”

“No, thank you.” I tried to control my giggles, but they wouldn’t stop. “The great—ha—Commissioner Hiwatari—ha ha—turning into emotional putty at an excessive shot of the main couple l-lovingly staring into each other’s eyes!” I let loose, curling up into a ball to ease the pain of laughing too hard while Hiwatari just looked on with judgment.

I apologized once I had calmed down, still in awe at the karma returned to Hiwatari from needlessly heckling me about my romantic daydreams, but he still had that expression of disgust on his face. He quickly eased into an entertained smile, and I wondered just how hard it was for him to feign being upset with me.

“I’ll be driving Daisuke and Riku to the airport tomorrow morning and Uncle Kazama to the train station if you’d like to come with,” he started before turning off the TV.

“How early are you taking them to the airport?”

“Extremely.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t want to accidentally spill Daisuke’s plan in a 4AM stupor.” Hiwatari nodded. “But I’ll accompany you to drop Kazama off. I’ve got some choice words for your uncle.”

“Sorry. I should’ve stopped him.”

“Don’t worry about it. He would’ve done it sooner or later, I’m assuming, so it would’ve been pointless to delay the inevitable.”

He nodded before smirking. “So, how awful as he when he walked you back?”

“Worse than Kei who is actually a sweetheart compared to that nasty devil. He tried to lure me to my favorite café to go off on me! I eventually forced him to grill me on the streets so that he wouldn’t taint my favorite place in Azumano with his rude-ass self, but still! I get it! You love our nephew and, second to Krad and everything pertaining to the Hikari curse, I was the Worst Thing to have ever happened to him, but I’m human, too! Damn!”

It was Hiwatari’s turn to laugh now. How dare he have the audacity to laugh at my pain! “More damaging and controlling than actual damage control?”

“Yes! Could the hotshot, biker of a lawyer keep that behavior contained inside of the courtroom, please? Yeesh.”

“I warned you that he was overbearing.”

“That’s an understatement. Riku is overbearing. But Kazama is—I have no words to adequately describe him. No wonder he stresses you out.”

“You have no idea. He literally screamed at me until I told him about you. And when I finished, he continued screaming at me because I had hurt you so much.”

We both laughed at the image of Commissioner Hiwatari, a genius, fledgling adult in charge of a whole precinct, being screamed at like a child who had just shit their pants or something. I couldn’t fault Hiwatari for having a smoke when I visited the day Kazama arrived; that crazy man was too much for a single person to house for a week.

“So…Kosuke and Kei found out about us through their deductive abilities. As did Grandpa Daiki, I’m assuming, if my last interaction with him is anything to go by, and Kazama forced it out of you. Hiwatari, I was under the impression that this was top secret considering that I’ve never told a soul about it.” I looked at him, cutting the levity in the room with the serious tone of my voice. “Who else knows? And please be truthful here. I promise I won’t get mad. I just don’t want to keep having the rug pulled out from under my feet.”

He bit his lip, averting his gaze away from me. “Do you want to know the reason why I’ve been banned from excessively drinking around other people?” Oh no. “After Daisuke had turned twenty, I had invited him out for drinks and gotten so drunk that I talked about everything that happened between you and me.”

Goddammit, Hiwatari! I didn’t need to know that you were the type of drunk to spill your dirty secrets! Nor did I want to find out that it was Daisuke on the other end of it. I mean, I wasn’t surprised, but that was hitting way too close to home. One wrong move on Daisuke’s part and Riku would find out, eventually telling my parents and—nope. I did not want to entertain that thought.

“I made him promise not to acknowledge it ever again, so please don’t worry. Or try not to worry,” Hiwatari explained. “Takeshi also knows a little bit, but not enough to be a huge problem. Harada-san, please, you look like you’re about to faint.”

“I’m trying not to,” I said. “But thank you for telling me.”

We heard footsteps and turned to see Riku and Daisuke heading down the stairs. The former caught Hiwatari’s attention to confirm tomorrow morning while my eyes met Daisuke’s briefly.

“What’s up, Risa?”

“One wrong move, and you’re dead to me.”

…

Hiwatari and I followed Kazama to the tracks. The older man had his leather jacket precariously hanging off on shoulder. His suitcase stood next to his slim legs decked in a nice pair of skinny jeans, and he had a smirk plastered on his face: the perfect image of a douche bag.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Harada-san.”

“I just wanted to wish misfortune upon you back in Tokyo, however that would manifest itself for you.”

Kazama laughed before patting Hiwatari on the shoulder. “Just let me know if you need me.”

“I will.”

Kazama then returned to me, and I snarled at him. If he had anything rude to say to me, I’d push him onto the tracks.

“Harada-san, take care of him, will you? If I find out that either one of you hurt the other, you’re both getting it.” He flashed a smile. “Accountability’s important, yanno!”

“At least Hiwatari-san’s going down with me?”

Kazama only laughed before patting me on the head. “Sorry about our talk that night, Harada-san. I have a bad habit of overstepping boundaries in the moment, so I know everything I said was uncalled for.” I pushed his hand off, glaring at him for being overly familiar with me. “But you know? Both of you are trying, and that’s all that matters at the end of the day. Not many people can do what you two are doing, and that’s something to applaud. Really. It’s hard for people stick to their decision when they know the whole world will be against them for taking the road less traveled.”

The train had pulled into the station, and Kazama boarded, waving goodbye before disappearing into the cabin. Hiwatari and I stood there until the train pulled out of the station, leaving us to feel the sea breeze blow by.

“Maybe this was a mistake?” I innocently asked before looking at Hiwatari.

He just returned my gaze and shrugged. “Mistake or not, this is the path we’ve chosen. We can only move forward from here.”

“Do you think it’s a mistake?”

Hiwatari raised his eyebrow. “How I feel isn’t pertinent.”

“I’m not asking that. I want your honest opinion.”

“Then yes. I do. It’s illogical, and I feel like I’m setting myself up for an unfathomable disaster. You feel the same way, I’m assuming?”

“Yeah.” I let out a breathy laugh. “We’re such idiots.”

“I only have you to blame for dragging me down to your level.”

“Hey!”

#satorisa #dnangel #satoshi hiwatari #risa harada #My writing #fanfiction #lift the veil

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deanssweetheart23 · 7 years

Text

Always

Title: Always (MOC!Dean. Part 1)

Summary: Dean didn’t really know what being in love felt like until he met her; the girl with the soulful eyes and the brilliant smile that waltzed into his life when he was twenty-four and ended up being his entire world. So, he stood by her through thick and thin, until one day, he realized that the only way to keep her safe was to keep her away from him. But would he really be able to let her go?

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: MOC!Dean x reader, Castiel (briefly), Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, Metatron (all briefly mentioned)

Word count: 4849

Warnings: Fluff. Angst. Very light smut (trust me guys, it’s very light). Language. Mentions of death, loss of parents, grief, mentions of tortures and blood (nothing graphic).

Author’s Notes: This is my sumbission for @thevioletthourr Fif’s Milestone Challenge. Fif, thank you so much for letting me participate and for granting me the extension I needed, I fell in love with this story and wanted to do it justice.

Special thank you to @ravengirl94 for reading parts of it over for me and being such an amazing friend. If it weren’t for her support, I wouldn’t have finished this story..

My prompt for this fic was Save Yourself by Kaleo (which is the most beautiful song ever and has Dean’s name all over it). The story is set during S10 (right after ep.10, “The Hunter Games”). Original flashbacks and some Metatron lines from the show are included in italics. (Oh, and part 2 wil be posted in late September).

Again, thank you all for bearing with me. Enjoy <3

Dean had always loved moments like this.

He loved holding Y/N close, loved the way their heartbeats vibrated in each other’s bones, the way he could trace veins and scars and freckles with his fingertips or his mouth or his tongue, the way her skin felt against his, solid muscles blending with softness.

He loved the quietness of the room, how it was painted in even breaths and dusty promises, the dim-light of the star-freckled sky sneaking through the open windows and skating down Y/N’s form, just smudges of glow on bare skin.

“So,” Y/N’s voice interrupted his train of thoughts as Dean kept her tucked against him, all fingers and thumbs and lips, “are you going to tell me why you’re looking at me like that?”

“Like what exactly, sweetheart?”

Turning to look at him, she perched herself on one elbow, big, wide eyes sweeping over every feature of his face gingerly.

“Like I’m…” Deep breath. “Like I’m going to vanish into thin air.”

And Dean wanted nothing more than to tell her the truth, to kiss her lips and let all the things that were hurting him come tumbling out of his mouth, to wrap himself around her all over again and never let go but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t because he knew what the right thing was, and he loved her too much to get her killed and it was too goddamn late.

So, instead, he pressed his lips on her forehead in a sweet kiss, then pulled away and smiled at her, looking for love and redemption into her Y/E/C orbs.

“No reason…” he whispered, rumbling into her hair. “I just…”

I need you.

I’m going to miss you.

I’m sorry.

I’ll never be the same without you.

“I love you. You know that, right?” he said at last, wrecked and scraped and just a bit shadowy.

She smiled.

It twisted the knife deeper into his already shattered heart.

“I love you too.” She told him, lacing her fingers with his. “Always.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “yeah, I know, kid.”

She grinned at him then, warm and pleased and relieved, stretching up to kiss him, and he sank into it and kissed her like he’d never kissed her before, praying for the moment to last.

It didn’t.

When they broke off, breathless and sated, she looked at him once more, brows furrowed into a deep frown and forehead puckered.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she implored and he swore he could hear the concern bleeding into her voice.

And he should have said no, should have stopped himself from lying to her again, but he had no other choice.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” He replied, kissing her brow. “Now stop worrying so much and just lemme hold you.”

Chuckling a bit at his words, she let out a content sigh and buried her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in until she couldn’t keep her eyelids open anymore, not knowing that Dean laid awake next to her, her vow echoing soundlessly in his mind.

I love you too.

Always.

And it was nothing but a small utterance, seven letters set in arbitrary order, but the sound of it falling from her lips made Dean’s soul ache and he knew.

That word was going to haunt him forever.

“Are these fuzzy shocks?” Dean cackled with a gapped mouth stare, pointing towards Y/N’s feet, clad in a pink pair of punch socks.

“Yup.”

“You wear fuzzy socks to bed?”

“Do you want me to put the freezing feet on you again?” Y/N asked, head titled and fingers spread.

“Nope.”

“Then, yes, I’m wearing fuzzy socks to bed.” She told him, lifting her chin. “Now scoot over.”

The eldest Winchester chuckled at her words, mumbling a breathless yes, ma’am under his breath, and watched as she climbed into the covers and laid on her side to face him, bright orbs peering at him through long eyelashes while she clutched at the blanket they were supposed to share.

God, she was beautiful.

“This is okay, right?”

It was soft and sweet, a genuine concern that sunk into his skin and made him feel lightheaded and he realized, maybe for the first time, that he wasn’t the only one who felt that pull between them, that flooring and fascinating spark.

She felt it too and he wasn’t ready to give that up.

So, he let his fingers skim across her hipbone, and pulled her just a little closer, half-smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“More than, sweetheart. I’m just…” he sighed and ran a hand over his face, trying to collect his seemingly scattered thoughts, “I still don’t know how to thank you for tagging along.”

“Don’t. I’m here because I want to, D.”

“I know but-”

“No buts. You’re… We’re gonna figure this out together.” She promised and he beamed at her, actually beamed, awe and wonder floating across his face.

“Kid, I don’t know what I’ do without you.”

“Well,” she started, lips twitching in delight, “you’d get laid, for one thing.”

He laughed at that, rich and loose, eyes sparkling with golds and greens in the dim light of the room.

“Hey, I’m serious. That chick at the bar just wouldn’t stop staring.”

“Yeah, I kinda like you better.” He whispered softly, playfulness and honesty blending in his tongue as he raked his fingers through her hair. “Must be the socks.”

She smiled at him then, that lively smile Dean couldn’t stop thinking about, and he drank in the breathy whispers and the tousled limbs and the way her soulful Y/E/C eyes shined brighter than anything he’d ever seen before, and he thought that, yeah, he could definitely get used to this.

She was beautiful when she was asleep.

Granted, she was always beautiful, but the way she looked when youth and serenity took over, innocent smiles and steady heartbeats clothing her, made Dean’s heart swell with nothing but love and tenderness, because she trusted him enough to be vulnerable around him, trusted him enough to feel content and safe in his arms.

The thought wrapped around his heart like a poisonous vine and drained all its blood, leaving cells hollow and atoms weathered and, for a moment, he let himself wonder what would happen if he changed his mind, if he woke her up and told her the truth.

She’d be pissed at him, he was sure. She’d yell and curse and call him names for thinking that he could just walk away like that, but she wouldn’t stay mad at him for too long.

She’d understand.

She always did.

When he sold his soul for his brother, she understood. When he laid awake at nights after Sam jumped into the pit to save the world, staring at the ceiling in silence, she understood. When he was angry and mad and thirsty for revenge after Dick Roman killed Bobby, she understood. When he brought Benny back with him from Purgatory, when he agreed to take the Mark of Cain to kill Abaddon, when he faced Metatron on his own, she understood, no matter how hard and painful it was.

So, she would understand now too. She’d wrap her arms around him, and kiss the corner of his mouth and tell him that they’d figured it out together like they had done so many times in the past and then she’d whisper to him that she loved him and had chosen him and would do it all over again if she had to.

He wouldn’t have to go.

He wouldn’t have to leave her.

She wouldn’t have to have her heart broken.

But real life didn’t work that way.

His life didn’t work that way.

Not with all the blood in his hands, all the people he’d lost through the years, family and friends that were careless enough to believe in him.

Metatron was right; the Mark was changing him.

He could feel it.

He could feel its darkness seeping into his skin, its evilness rushing through his veins, turning him into a monster he didn’t want to be.

It was always there in alarmed glances Sam threw his way when things got a bit out of hand, in the silent stares of Castiel, in the blood-soaked memories of the massacre in Randy’s house, in the images of Y/N cradling his stained body in the shower like she was his only thing keeping him human, breathless reassurances and we’re going to be okays dancing in the air between them.

It was always there and Dean knew it wouldn’t go away no matter how much Y/N or Sam or Cas wanted it to.

And so he’d do the one thing he still trusted himself enough to do.

Keep Y/N safe.

At all costs.

Warm lips brushed against Dean’s clothed shoulder-blade as Y/N wrapped her arms around him from behind and pressed her face into the fabric, breathing in the scent of whiskey and cinnamon soap and Dean.

“I thought I’d find you here.” She sighed, squeezing his middle.

“Hmmm,” Dean craned his neck to peck her temple softly, “smell good, sweetheart.”

“You always say that, D.”

“You always smell good.” He retorted and turned around to face her, arm wounding around her waist while he latched his lips onto her neck and nibbled at the sensitive skin there, humming in satisfaction. “And taste even better.”

“Jeez, Dean, you’re such a perv.”

“And yet, you keep me around.” He smirked, threading his fingers into her hair.

“Yeah, cause I need someone to open all the jar lids for me.”

“Smartass.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “What are you doing up anyway?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She replied, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt and Dean’s heart sank into his chest because he knew what that meant.

“Woke you up again, didn’t I?” he implored, low and gruff at the back of his throat.

“It sounded really bad this time, D.”

Shaking his head, he let his hand slid down her arm gently and gripped at her fingers.

“’M fine, kid.”

She hummed in response, something sarcastic.

“What? I am. The nightmares are just,” he breathed out through his nose, muscle flaring along his jaw, “they sound worse than they are.”

“Do they? Because you’ve been…” she let out a deep breath, gnawing on her bottom lip. “You barely sleep anymore, Dean. And I know you keep saying you’re alright and that you don’t remember Hell but I-”

“Kid,” he pleaded, every emotion he’d managed to keep under wraps for the past month threatening to spill into his voice, “don’t… Don’t go there.”

“Okay.” She told him, and he nodded and breathed in a whose, kissing their joined hands. “But, just…” she clasped the side of his face, gentleness and desperation burning beneath her fingertips, “nothing can scare me away.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t know the things I… I can’t-”

“I don’t care.” She insisted, running her thumb over his bottom lip. “D., I love you. Always.”

He smiled.

It was bitter-sweet, brittle with unshed tears and unspoken confessions that bled into his mind at night, strapped with gratitude and selflessness and awe for the girl that took in scars and wounds and bruises and only gave back love.

It was hers.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, pulling her tight against him, heartbeat trapped within hers. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that.” She protested, silky words caressing his clothed skin. “You do deserve happiness, Dean, maybe more than anyone else I’ve ever known. I just wish you could see that.”

“Yeah. Me too, kid.” He said, rumbling into your hair. Then. “C’mon. We should get you back to bed.”

“Actually. I got a better idea.” She stated and looked up, jamming her hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “When was the last time the two of us took a ride together?”

“A ride?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, mischief coating her features. “No direction. No plans. Just you, me, Baby and the open road.” A pause. “Okay. Maybe even Ben King with because we both know how much you love Stand By Me.”

“You love that song.”

“We both love that song.” She retorted, smiling her most wonderful smile. “So. What do you think?”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.” He agreed and ducked in to kiss her lips sweetly.

And when she kissed him back and breathed in against it all, lips moving against his like that was what they were always meant to do, hand sliding up the muscles of his back to hold him, feel him next to her, solid and safe and real, he realized that, no matter what life chose to throw their way, the two of them would be just fine.

Dean was going to miss her.

He’d miss the breathy laughs and the brilliant smiles, the lazy morning kisses and those arms that wrapped around him and gripped like they were trying to put all of his broken pieces back together.

He’d miss her warmth, and the way she bit on her bottom lip when she was trying to concentrate, the nights he’d spend watching her read her favorite book, the way she argued with him about westerns, or how her face would light up every time he brought home sunflowers to surprise her.

He’d miss her acceptance and her love and the way she tucked herself against him at nights, a quiet reassurance that he’d never be alone in the world again.

But most of all, he’d miss his home, the home he never thought he’d have, the home that was etched around her smile and her eyes and her.

“Dean,” a deep voice called, prompting the hunter to turn around and look for the incoming sound only to find Castiel standing a few feet away from him, arms slack at his sides.

“It’s time.”

Dean’s heart sank within his chest.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, hands squeezing into fists, white-knuckled, “yeah. Just give me a minute.”

“You know,” Cas started, taking a few tentative steps towards his friends, “you can still stop this.”

Dean blinked and swallowed, hard.

“I can’t. She’s...” he sighed and glanced at the girl that was sleeping soundly on the bed, the girl he loved with everything he had. “She’s my entire life, man. I can’t just… I’ll get her killed.”

“Y/N doesn’t believe that.”

“Cas-”

“She’d never forgive you.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean cackled, brittle and sad as he rubbed his forehead, “that’s not really going to matter in a few minutes, is it?”

“No. It isn’t.” The angel agreed stoically.

A pause and then-

“Are you sure?”

And Dean wanted to tell him that he wasn’t, wanted to scream and break things and call the entire plan off, wanted to put Y/N in Baby with him and just drive, away from Kansas and from Metatron and everything that had ever hurt them but then he saw the Mark that burned across his skin and he remembered.

That greater good thing just went away, didn’t it? Now, people die just because you want them to.

He remembered how dark and red it turned every time he couldn’t control his bloodlust, remembered the throbbing pain of it pumping through his veins.

Kevin’s death? All on you. You put him in harm’s way and kept him there.

He remembered Claire’s terrified look, remembered how she’d stared at him like he was a monster before breaking into sobs in front of Randy’s lifeless body.

Gadreel possessing Sam? Who was it that tricked Sam into letting him in?

He remembered the desperation that had stained Sam’s voice while he called his name, remembered the defeat and the denial and the pure heartache in it.

Dean Winchester, whose entire existence is defined by a war on the dark and monstrous, bromancing his way around the country with the king of Hell.

He remembered thinking that he’d lost a part of him in that house that night, that things would never go back to the way they used to be.

I love you too.

Always.

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw until it hurt.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m sure.”

Froth-laced waves rolled up the shoreline and mingled with the white sand beneath Dean’s feet, enveloping him in a scent of seafoam and washed-out kelp.

The water was cold, even though it was a warm day painted in endless blue, sky pristine and the sea speckled with golden rays of light, and yet, all Dean could see was the girl walking next to him, dressed in a black swimsuit that unveiled smoothness he’d spent years of his life memorizing, eyes glistening under the morning sun.

“So,” she said, brushing her palms together, soft smile gracing her lips, “pasta or seafood?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m trying to figure out where we’re going to eat for dinner.” She explained, matter-of-fact, as she gnawed on her bottom lip. “So. Pasta or seafood?”

“Hmmm…” He scratched the back of his neck in thought. “Burgers.”

“Seriously? We have burgers all the time.”

“And?”

“And this trip is all about discovering new things.”

A hum.

Eyebrows raised in suspicion.

“Right. You want to go to that Italian place in the middle of nowhere, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She smiled, looking up at him through her lashes. “Please?”

“Sweetheart-”

“Dean, please. Pleasepleasepleaseplease.” She whined sweetly, hands clasped in that way she knew he found adorable, puppy dogs on and, dammit, she was cute.

So, he let out a low groan and reached out for her hand, rolling his eyes so hard that he was afraid he’d never be able to blink again.

“Fine.” He gritted, running a hand over his jaw. “But I’m not wearing a suit.”

“Don’t worry, D., I’m not gonna make you dress like a fed to go out for dinner.” She kissed the corner of his mouth warmly, triumph and mischief coating her features as she mumbled a thank you under her breath.

“You got me on a string, you know that?” he groaned, arm wounding around her waist to pull her closer to him.

“Yes.” She beamed. “But you love it.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, heart swelling with affection and tenderness.

“Yeah,” he agreed, lips brushing up against the softness of her wrist, “yeah, I really do.”

Her face broke into that breathless smile he loved so much then, the one that reminded him of aged whiskey and freshly baked cherry pie, and of home and he leaned in and pecked her lips swiftly, all sweetness and warmth.

“So,” he cleared his throat, nuzzling the crook of her neck “just out of curiosity. You’re not afraid of the ocean anymore, are you?”

“Nope, not anymore. Why would you –Dean, don’t you dare.”

But it was too late.

Dean had already thrown her over his shoulder and was now waist-deep into the water, crazy laughter spilling from his lips as she let empty threats and colorful insults smack his skin.

And then-

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you dick.” Y/N bellowed after she’d been tossed inside, treading saltiness until her feet reached the bottom of the sea again.

“Always such a smart mouth, sweetheart.” Dean smirked, swimming up to her.

“Shut up.”

More laughter.

“I hate you.”

“C’mere.” He whispered, fingers wrapping around her wrist as he pulled her sun-kissed body to his.

His large hand clasped the side of her face.

“You’re cute when you roll your eyes like that.”

“Am not.”

Dean hummed at that, gaze flickering over her features swiftly, then pressed his salty lips to hers, thumb smoothing over her jaw as he worked her tongue into her, smirking a bit when he felt her whimpering into his mouth.

“Beautiful, sweetheart.” He rasped out against her neck, titling her head back so he could have better access. “So beautiful.”

Letting out a small whimper, Y/N tugged at his hair but he only chuckled a little under his breath and let his lips suck and lick at her throat, while his calloused fingers slid down her back and hooked under her top, expertly pulling at its strings until the fabric was all gone and he could see, could feel all of her, pressing up against his bare chest.

“D., what are you-”

“Just,” he breathed, eyes darting up and down her body, all amazement and want. “Shit, kid, just lemme…”

And then he was cupping her butt and had her hoisted into his arms, refusing to put her down until they’d reached a raft he’d seen earlier in a secluded section of the beach.

“You know,” she gasped when he pressed his forehead to her temple, blanketing over her, “this is how people actually go to jail.”

“No, it’s not. No one ever comes here.” Dean breathed into her ear, fingers hooking under the waistband of her swimsuit.

“Yeah, but what if-”

“Stop,” kiss, “worrying,” kiss, “so,” kiss, “much.”

“’M just saying,” she chuckled, palming the back of his neck, “we do have a car.”

“Don’t care.” He whispered, mouth up her jaw. “Want you.” He whispered and kissed her again slow and desperate and full, until she breathed her consent into his mouth.

And so, he let his hands smooth down her skin, let his fingers explore curves and edges and strands of hair like it was the first time, and while he had her whimpering underneath him, panting and giving and taking, he realized that, despite the nightmares and Purgatory and the tablets, despite everything, he was the luckiest man on Earth.

Dean didn’t kiss her goodbye.

He told himself that it was because he didn’t want to risk waking her up, but, really, he knew that he was afraid that if he allowed himself to have her like that one more time, he’d never be able to let go.

So, instead, he stole one last glance, a moment of absolute serenity that would stand still in his memory forever, and left, wondering, vaguely, whether that heart-shattering pain that had plugged itself deep into his chest would ever go away.

He didn’t think so.

Kneading his shoulders, he pondered calling his brother to see how he was holding up when-

“It’s done.” Castiel said, suddenly in front of him, all gruffness and resentment. “Y/N no longer remembers you.”

His stomach plummeted, his heart broken mosaic he’d never be able to repair.

He nodded.

“Good.” He rasped out, lungs clenching.

“Dean,-”

“I need a moment.”

“Dean, I-”

“I said I need a moment.” Dean growled, harsher than he intended to.

He tried to ignore the lone tear that slid down his face.

There was no reason for him to cry anymore.

It was over.

Soft, feather-light kisses landed on Y/N’s naked body, while she laid on her stomach, sprawled over across the bed, crisp white sheets hanging low on her hips.

Dean was pressed up against her, body perfectly tucked against her own, and he was landing kisses everywhere, from the column of her neck, to her shoulder-blades, down her spine and on the deepest arch of her lower back.

“That tickles.” She pouted after a few minutes, rolling over to face him.

“Well, good morning to you too, sleepyhead.” He chuckled, hands smoothing down her sides as he ducked in to kiss her, soft and fragile like spur sugar, a quick morning kiss that was over as soon as it started.

“Hmmm,” she hummed, nose nudging up against his, “I missed this.”

And he knew that she didn’t mean to, but her words sliced deeper into already open wounds, and he sighed and had to look away for a second, shame and guilt hot in the air between them.

“I know. And I –look, I know we’ve already talked about this but I-”

“Dean, I swear to God if you apologize one more time, I’m actually going to punch you.” She warned, brandishing a finger at him.

He chuckled then, bitter and wrecked, and rolled over his side to sit up against the headboard, watching as she did the same thing.

“Last night, when you knocked on my door, I thought… I thought you were going to leave me.” He stated, jaw clenched painfully.

“I…Leave you?”

“Yeah. And quite frankly, I wouldn’t have blamed you, Y/N.”

“Dean-”

“No. Kid, the things I put you through… I almost killed you, for fuck’s sake.”

“But that wasn’t you.” Y/N retorted, running her fingers through her messed up hair in frustration. “I knew that. And I’m not saying that it was always easy to remember it or that it didn’t hurt to see you acting like a complete douchewad but I knew.”

He nodded and stayed silent for one, two, three long bits but then-

“I didn’t,” he croaked, shoulders sagging, “I hope you know that I never slept… I couldn’t-”

“I know. And you’re not… You’re not going to lose me.” She stated and crawled on top of him, knowing that he wanted, needed to feel her close to him, legs straddling his hips. “I’m not leaving, D. I love you.”

He drew in a sharp breath at that and pressed his forehead against hers, hands coming to cup her face.

“God, I’m so…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I love you, sweetheart. I love you so damn much.” He whispered and pressed his mouth against hers, all urgency and need, tongue and lips and breaths working together to cherish everything she had to give until he couldn’t take it anymore and let himself relish in warmth and softness and love.

And despite his evident heartache and desperation, he took it slow as he slipped into her that time, took it slow as he cradled her into his chest and whispered nothing but words of love into her ear, because he wanted to feel everything, and when she rocked her hips into his and let her head fall onto his shoulder, he realized, God, there in her arms, with her fingers combed into his hair and her eyes locked on his, he realized that he’d never felt more alive.

Dean stopped by her room again.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do it, promised himself he’d just drive off but it was almost impossible to ignore that the woman he’d spent most of his life with, the one he loved with every single beat in his heart, was only a few rooms away.

So, he sneaked in, soul scarred and heart heavy with the realization that it was the last time he’d ever see her and he almost broke, right there in the middle of the room.

And that was when it really hit him.

Τhe naked woman sleeping on the bed was no longer his Y/N.

She didn’t remember him.

She didn’t remember the first time they met, how she waltzed into the warehouse and saved Dean’s life, all confidence and skills.

She didn’t remember the nights they spent curled up in the same bed, whiskey-laced breaths and whispered childhood stories their only company.

She didn’t remember their first kiss, how their lips danced together, slow and soul searing, how she’d stolen Dean’s breath away because she was everything he had imagined and so much more.

She didn’t remember the first time they made love and their first I-love-yous and their late night drives and the heated arguments and the bone-crushing hugs and the plans they made for the future.

She didn’t remember the Christmas night they’d spent dancing barefoot in the dark, because she was tipsy and he’d sold his soul and they were both terrified their end was near.

She didn’t remember she loved him.

She didn’t remember he loved her more than he’d ever loved anything in his god-forsaken life.

They’d fought for each other over and over again, they tried and they bled and they cried and vowed they’d always be together, and now, now they were at the end of the line and he was nothing but a stranger to her, a meaningless name, just another face in the crowd.

His bottom lip trembled, hot tears brimming within his eyes.

He walked past her, past the room, past people that looked at him like he was the four-year-old child that’d lost his mother all over again, all curiosity and pity, and got into his car.

Her scent still lingered in the air, on his skin, on the leather seat.

He took a deep breath and turned on the radio.

If the sky that we look upon

Should tumble and fall

Or the mountains should crumble to the sea.

Another tear slid down his face but he didn’t wipe it off as he let the familiar melody cut him, an autumn night filled with breathless praises and soft moans in the backseat of his car ringing clear into memory.

I won’t cry, I won’t cry,

No, I won’t shed a tear

Just as long as you stand, stand by me.

His foot pressed down the accelerator and he drove off.

This time he didn’t look back.

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