#(to be clear we’re fine I just cried a lot today)

[syrupfog]

Being the captain means always being the one everyone turns to.

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart, Chapter 23

18+ MDNI On Ao3

Link to all chapters

It's Doug! He's the worst I love him.

You shifted in your dress as you sat on Thatch’s lap in the private dining room. The dress itself was fine, it was a nice breezy cotton that fit with the summery weather the ship was currently sailing through. But you were uncomfortable on so many levels. For one, you were still riled up from Marco’s previous attentions and could feel the stickiness on your legs. Not only that, the feeling of the plug in you was being accentuated by sitting down. You wanted it out but were too scared of the consequences to do so. Marco had been clear about what he wanted and you wanted to avoid making him disappointed again. You couldn’t prove it, but you thought Thatch was moving around more than usual. The movement made the plug move, which was making you wriggle. To top it all off, Thatch was acting like nothing happened. He was fussing over you more than usual, trying to get you to eat more. You were quiet, allowing Thatch to feed you as he wanted.

“ No te preocupes, Mami, everything is alright. Just eat a few more bites, you missed so many meals today.” You nodded and opened your mouth. There was a lot on your mind. You were nervous about the party tonight, about what would happen later with the rest of your punishment, and the general trajectory of your relationship with these men. You mechanically ate and thought about your confusing experiences with them over the past weeks. You felt like you were sinking in quicksand - the more you struggled the harder things became for you, but still sinking regardless. When you’d eaten your fill, you leaned back against Thatch still not talking. He stroked your hair and back, not setting you down on the ground like usual. It felt soothing even though you were still uncomfortable.

“It’s OK, you’re OK. We love you, you know that, we only want what’s best for you, we’ll always help you, no one loves you like we do, we’re doing this to help you….” He was telling you sweet phrases over and over. Even though he was some of the source of your discomfort, it still felt nice to have someone care for you. You couldn’t help it, you were so overwhelmed, you started crying. And you couldn’t stop. It was all too much. The emotional whiplash, the punishments, the affection, you didn’t know what to think or what to do. Soon your quiet tears had turned into full heaving sobs. You were grabbing onto Thatch’s shirt and staining it with your tears and snot while he continued to soothe you. He wound his arms around you and held you while your weeping wracked your body. Eventually, you ran out of steam and closed your eyes. You didn’t move and neither did Thatch.  

“Feel a little better pobrecita ?” You nodded, still sniffling. “Do you want to know something interesting? That’s the first time you’ve cried and made any noise. You’ve always been silent before.” You thought about his words. You’d learned to cry soundlessly early on in your captivity, showing weakness was always a bad choice. You’d be taunted or tormented further, or flat out ignored. Maybe you did trust these pirates in some ways, like Thatch had been telling you. You knew that if you cried, Thatch would help you or at least comfort you. So maybe things weren’t that bad, maybe you could adapt to these new circumstances, as different as they were.

“Thank you, Thatch,” you said in a small voice. 

“For what, Mija? For caring? Please, this is how things should be for you.” Thatch kissed your forehead. “I’m going to have to get going, I have to get things ready for the party.” He put you on the ground and smacked your sore ass lightly. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” 

After your emotional outburst, you wanted some quiet time. Walking to the top deck, you enjoyed the early evening sun as it warmed your skin. You were watching the ship break through the waves when you heard some crew yelling.

“Watch out, Doug’s here!” 

“Oh fuck, he’s gonna shit on my head again!”

“Goddammit why’d it have to be Doug?!”

You looked towards the skies and your day immediately brightened. It was Doug! He was your absolute favorite News Coo, you’d met him while you were with the Marines. He’d been injured, with a broken wing, and the Marines had left him to die on the deck. You fixed his wing and fed him from your own rations, letting him rest with you. Since then, he was a friend of yours, giving you free newspapers when he saw you. 

“Doug! Doug!” You yelled and waved at him, trying to catch his attention. You knew birds couldn’t smile, but you’d like to think he was. He squawked and flew over to you, landing at your feet. You smiled and bent down, patting the top of his head with two fingers. Some of the pirates were gawking at you.

“What? Is something wrong?,” you asked Atmos, who was closest to you. He was looking at you like you were petting a tiger.

“Never seen that bird like anyone. He’s shit on my head at least three times that I can remember. He’ll drop newspapers you’ve paid for in the sea and fly away. Doesn’t even like Marco, and all birds like that man. It’s just…weird.” 

You didn’t care, you loved the old buzzard. Doug cooed at you and offered you the latest newspaper, which you accepted. You tried to give him some Beri, but he affectionately nipped at you, showing his refusal. Doug cooed again, motioning to his satchel. You opened it for him and saw a letter addressed to Vista. You took it out and held it in your hand. 

“Would you like me to deliver this? I can find him,” Doug cooed at you, you thought in gratitude. “Do you want some fish? Or some water?” you asked. Doug nuzzled you with his beak, you thought as a polite refusal. He took off back into the sky, giving you one final call.

“Bye! Be safe out there!” you waved goodbye to Doug, watching him shrink on the horizon.

“Doug likes you yoi?” You shrieked and spun around, you hadn’t noticed Marco behind you. 

“Oh, um, yeah. I fixed his wing once and now we’re friends. If you can be friends with a news coo.” You felt awkward, not knowing how to behave in front of Marco. He seemed calm and collected but that wasn’t helping your anxiety. He put his forearms on your shoulders, relaxing on you.

“Um, I have to give this letter to Vista, Doug gave it to me.” Marco nodded.

“After you stop by my room, yoi.” Marco’s tone never offered any room for arguments and this was no different. He moved his arms off your shoulders and took your hand, leading you to the steps.

~~~

In his room, you found yourself once again over his lap while he sat on his couch. He was holding your cheeks open, inspecting the plug in your ass. You were sore and the feeling of examination was humiliating. He also took the opportunity to examine your sopping pussy, still wet from a few hours earlier, running his finger through the fluids. Marco grabbed the base of the plug with the tips of his fingers, and started removing the plug slowly. It was going out much faster than it had gone in.

“See, yoi? I told you you’d get used to it. It’s already easier, right?” 

“Yes, Marco.” Marco set it down on a towel he had laying next to him and continued to touch your clit. You tried not to squirm, you knew he didn’t want you to, but you couldn’t help it. He was stroking you lightly, almost teasing you.

“You did well taking your punishment yoi,” he said still rubbing you. You were feeling hopeful that it meant you’d get rewarded with an orgasm and arched your back trying to get closer to his hand. Marco laughed darkly, smacking your pussy gently.

“Bad little dove. You don’t get rewarded for taking what you deserve. Let’s see how the party goes yoi. You’re with me tonight, if you’re well behaved you might get to come.” You were a little put off, you’d always gotten to come after being punished before. And it wasn’t fair that Marco was teasing you. “Don’t pout,” Marco said, kissing your lips, “good things come to doves who wait.” Marco smoothed your dress down and sat you up on his couch. He got up, taking the plug with him, into the en suite. You heard the sound of running water, assuming he was washing the plug and his hands. You looked over at the mail you’d put down when you’d come into the room. You picked up the letter you’d been given.

“Marco, may I go deliver this letter to Vista? I don’t want to forget.” You turned it over but there were no other words on it beside his name.

“Go ahead yoi. I’ll see you at the banquet later,” he said from the bathroom. You left the newspaper there, you’d get to it later that night, maybe after the party. You left Marco in his room and went off to find Vista.

~~~

Handing the large man the letter, Vista was visibly confused.

“Where did this come from?” he said, flipping the letter over, seeing just as little as you had before.

“Doug gave it to me, to give to you.” You had no additional information for him.

“Did he shit on your head?” You scrunched your nose.

“No, why does everyone keep saying that? Doug’s great, he’s such a nice bird.” Vista grunted, which reminded you of his brothers. Opening the letter, Vista’s forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows raised. You didn’t want to pry, but you were curious.

“It’s a letter from my brothers. I’ve been at sea for over 35 years and they’ve never sent me anything. You were with them for 2 months and they wrote to you. I’d be insulted if it wasn’t so thoughtful. Look.” He handed you the letter in question. It was scrawled in loopy handwriting, like the person who wrote it hadn’t held a pen in years.

g I rL

HoW a Re YOU? TeLL  ViST a. 

BrOT HErs

You covered your mouth with your hand and laughed as you read the brief note. It was touching and heartwarming. “That’s so sweet!” you exclaimed, flashing Vista the letter again.

“I’m surprised any of them are literate,” he grumbled. You smacked his forearm with no real force.

“Be nice! Oldest knows how - he writes the menu,” you chided.

“Girl, the menu has two words, ‘food’ and ‘drink’.” You laughed, thinking about their bar, their mannerisms, and how kind they were under many layers of gruffness. You had missed them during your travels. You read over the letter again and again, thinking of the effort they’d put into writing it. 

“So?” Vista prompted you.

“Uh, so what?” you didn’t know what he meant. You hoped he didn’t want the letter back, you wanted to keep it.

“So how are you? I’ll write back.” You paused for a moment. How were you? You were ok in some ways - you were physically safe and in no danger of being turned in for a bounty. You didn’t think anyone was going to throw you off the ship at the next island. You had a few friends, and most people seemed to like you enough. You were gaining some weight and sleeping more, you felt more rested. All that was true. And yet…

You were tangled in some kind of relationship with Thatch, Marco, and Ace. They said they wanted to help you, and sometimes they did. But other times, you weren’t sure if they cared about how you felt. You felt like a toy to them, something they wanted to fix and play with when they wanted. It didn’t feel like any of the real relationships you’d had before. But those had been almost a decade ago, maybe you just didn’t remember what relationships were like. But other times, you felt like maybe they loved you? Thatch told you he did, and Ace had hinted at it as well. It was hard to decipher exactly what was going on, especially since they sometimes worked together. You belatedly realized Vista was waiting for your answer as you thought.

“Oh, um, I’ll write something and give it to you.” You’d take some time to think through what you wanted to say. Not that you’d tell the Brothers everything that was going on, but maybe for your own sake, to clear your mind.

“Remember, small words. Large lettering.” Vista smiled and you whacked him again with the letter, laughing. You tucked it into your pocket for safekeeping.

~~~

Shortly thereafter, it was nearly time for the banquet. You helped the Fourth Division set up everything on the deck, to Thatch’s delight. He took every opportunity to kiss, pinch, or caress you as you brought things from below deck to the enormous table set up on the top deck. You were wondering if you might be able to sit alone since this was a party but you doubted it. You’d gotten yourself into such a mess today you’d probably be eating off Thatch’s lap until you were 65. You were helping bring the hundreds of cups needed up to the top deck, carrying as many as you could. Going back down, you saw that the lower cupboards filled with mugs had been emptied by other crew members, leaving only those on the upper shelves.

When the Moby was built, it was built for men of large stature. Everything was built for people about 200 cm and up. Consequently, a lot was out of your reach, no matter where you went onboard. Trying to get the mugs you needed, you climbed up on the counter next to the cupboard. People were coming in and out, but everyone was busy with their own tasks. Reaching over, you had almost gotten your fingertips on a mug when a muscled arm reached up, grabbing three mugs at once. You simultaneously felt yourself being lifted by your middle, like a cat. Thatch set you on the floor.

“Would it have been so hard to ask for help Querida ?” He said, setting down the mugs on the counter. Your heart was racing. You’d just gotten off punishment, you didn’t want to have to start all over again. 

“Please, Thatch, please, I wasn’t thinking, I was just trying to help, please -” your eyes were already filling with tears, you couldn’t bear being punished another time today. Thatch cut you off with a kiss on the lips, cupping your cheek with one large hand.

“It can be our secret. Next time, ask for help.” He kissed you again briefly on the lips and grabbed a few more mugs for you before leaving to continue organizing for the night’s activity. You exhaled a shaky breath, holding your hand to your quick beating heart. Looking up, you locked eyes with Izou, who was leaning in the doorway, watching. Your face heated, you didn’t want him to see you begging like that. You turned and carried a mug in each hand back to the top deck. Izou didn’t stop you or say anything, to your relief.

~~~

Izou POV

The banquet was an interesting affair. The celebration was for Ace and Marco’s total destruction of a large Marine base, including the murder of all the Marines stationed there. Their attack was seemingly unprovoked, but Izou had a hunch that it had to do with the small woman perched on Marco’s lap. He’d been watching you over the past few weeks and something had changed. He thought back to the first time he’d met you on board. You were tired, weak, but had a spark in you. The same spark that had compelled you to ask about his long lost fabric, through which you’d forged a friendship with him. Looking at you now, it was hard to see the same spark present in you. When people talked to you, you’d sometimes look to Marco for confirmation before answering. He’d noted the way you’d begged Thatch not to be upset earlier, as if climbing up on the countertops was a major crime. You were hesitant, almost shy, like you were afraid to make a misstep. Marco had his arms around you as you sat on his lap, as if to protect you. Or keep you away from others. 

Marco had informed Izou about some of the rules he’d made for you - mostly around sleeping and eating. He was glad Marco was helping you physically, he was the ship’s doctor after all, but something was amiss. You no longer slept in closets and crawl spaces, but it had been replaced by sleeping with Thatch, Ace, and Marco. You seemed comfortable enough with all of them, but there was something about the arrangement that gave him pause. He’d keep monitoring you. Well, closer than he was already.

He did like you, after all. You shared his love of fashion, textiles, and design. You were humble, no one on board understood the level of celebrity you had in a certain segment of society. Your creations sold for thousands upon thousands of Beri, no matter the condition. Your pieces had been spotted from Dressrosa, to Alabasta, to Tottoland. And yet you’d spend your time with him, asking him his opinion, and adding in his design elements when they fit, always modest when he praised you. You’d had a hard life, he’d heard about the Marines and the pirates before that. But even so, you retained a positive outlook, a compassionate way of looking at the world that he thought not many would. So he wanted to make sure you were doing well. He’d ask Vista too, see what his husband thought. 

Y/N POV

This celebration was just as overwhelming as the one you’d attended before. You didn’t think you’d ever get accustomed to parties with almost a thousand people. You knew that Marco and Ace had some kind of successful mission at a Marine base, but you hadn’t heard the details. You’d asked Marco at the beginning of the celebration but he never answered. Marco had put you on his lap during the introductory toasts and you’d remained there during the dinner. Later, you’d been let off only to get picked up by Thatch and deposited in his lap. You’d had one drink, and Thatch had told you not to drink too much as you hadn’t eaten much during the day. He had a point, but between that and sitting on their laps, you felt more like a pet than a person. Maybe it was because Izou saw you acting like the pathetic person you were, or maybe it was the attention you'd gotten from sitting on Marco's lap during the dinner but you decided you’d had enough touching for now. You wiggled off Thatch's lap to stand on the deck. Thatch immediately grabbed your hand.

“ Mija, stay with me. It’s so nice to spend time together,” he said, kissing the back of your hand.

“It is, but I want to find Izou,” you pouted at him. You didn’t, you wanted to get away from everyone. But you figured that Izou was a safe choice since they let you spend time with him unsupervised. You’d just say you couldn’t find him while you slunk off for some alone time. Thatch kissed your hand again and let go. “ Bueno , have fun. Don’t forget about me.” He turned back to his conversation and you quickly wove between crew members, trying to put as much space between you, Thatch, and Marco as possible.

Which would have been doable if Ace hadn’t found you a moment later. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, like he was scruffing you. You wanted to stomp your foot and scream but you didn’t think it would help. 

“Where’ya headed, Babe?” Ace asked, a large mug in his hands. You looked at it wistfully, Whatever, you were an adult, you didn’t have to listen to Thatch. He wasn’t your keeper. 

“I wanted to get another drink. Can I have yours?” Ace was drinking ale, you could handle another beer. 

“Sure, here ya go. I’ll get myself another. Stay here.” Ace handed you the tankard of ale and went off to replenish himself. You quickly went below deck to Marco’s quarters, going inside and shutting the door behind you before anyone saw. You’d go back out in an hour or so, you just wanted a break. It was so chaotic on the deck, no one had to be the wiser, it’s not like they could find you that quickly. You could use this time to read the paper that Doug had brought you.

You sat on the couch, drinking your ale and reading the paper. You felt yourself unwind, able to relax knowing you had a few moments of solitude. You read through the world events, commentary, gossip columns, reader letters, and the rest of the paper until you got to the wanted poster section at the back. You skimmed through them, seeing some familiar names and faces. As the pages went on, the bounties got higher and you started seeing more and more Whitebeard crew members. Flipping through, you saw Thatch, Izou, Haruta, Curiel, and others. You saw Ace’s poster, he looked good as always. But something at the bottom caught your eye. You didn’t remember his bounty being that high. You read through his list of crimes to see what had caused the dramatic increase. Your hands shook as you read the descriptions of the brutal torture and cold blooded murders he’d committed at a Marine base. The same one Whitebeard had mentioned in his toast this evening. Ace had done these unspeakable acts? The same sweet Ace who’d let you nap on his shoulder in the afternoons, not moving until you woke?

You quickly flipped to find Marco’s poster to see if the information matched. Maybe it was just lies, the Marines sometimes did that to blame their mistakes on others. But Marco’s poster had the same sickening feats mentioned, occurring at the same base, along with his own large increase in bounty. You knew they had gone on a mission, but you hadn’t expected this. Your hands were shaking so much you had to put down the paper. Who were these men, really?

“Is this where you’ve been hiding, little Dove?” a low voice said, making you jump. Marco had found you. 

[momentsbeforemass]

Distraction

Why do you do what you do?

For most of us, our lived answer to that question is a muddled mess.

Mostly, we do what we do – not out of a conscious decision, much less a clear strategy. We do what we do out of an unstable mix of habit, inertia, distraction, and crisis response.

Bouncing ourselves from thing to thing, from reaction to reaction. With lots of motion.

But direction? Not so much.

If we could look down on what we’re doing from above, we would be hard-pressed to sort out a general trend. Much less any specific focus for all that motion.

So it shouldn’t surprise us that we’re easily pulled away towards whatever the next big thing is. Whether it’s a trend, or a crisis, or just something that catches our attention.

Which is why I love the scene from Peter’s life that we get in today’s Gospel. Because Peter is just like us.

Even in the face of a call from Jesus to come to Him. While Peter is responding to that call. Right in the middle of doing something that is literally miraculous (walking on water towards Jesus).

Peter still gets distracted.

Jesus is actually, physically right in front of him. And Peter still loses focus.

Let’s be clear about what’s going on here. The waves didn’t stop when Peter got out of the boat. The wind didn’t stop when Peter got out of the boat.

When Peter got out of the boat, Peter was focused on Jesus. And on doing what Jesus was calling him to do. While he was focused on Jesus, everything was fine.

Not because the waves died down. They didn’t.

Not because the wind died down. They didn’t.

But because Peter’s focus is where it needs to be. On Jesus.

Things go sideways only when Peter lets himself get distracted by the very things that Jesus is seeing him through. When Peter loses his focus on Jesus.

When we lose our focus and things go sideways in life, it can be hard to ask for help. There’s a lot of fear that whoever we ask won’t help. Not that they aren’t able to help. But that they won’t.

That they would rather judge us instead. Tell us how we did it to ourselves. Blame us for our own problems.

Not that we don’t already know this. We’re crushingly aware of it. We don’t need to have our noses rubbed in it. What we need is help.

That’s why I love how Jesus responds. When Peter cries out for help.

With actual help. Jesus pulls him into the boat. And says, “Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

Which is Jesus’ way of saying, “Don’t waste your time worrying, I’ve got this.”

The same way that Jesus always responds. Whenever you and I cry out for help.

Today’s Readings

[phoenix-downer]

I Really Could Stay Chapter 1

I Really Could Stay: ~1700 words. Sora and Kairi are starting to feel the strain of endless battles and missions on their relationship. Neither of them are sure they want to settle down and give up their life of adventuring for good, however. But a looming separation on Christmas makes them both think about what they want for the future.

Story Info: Sora/Kairi. Set Post-Canon. Alternating POVs. Established Relationship. Light Angst, Romance, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Christmas.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Sora was in one of his moods again.

Riku had known Sora his entire life, and his best friend had never been particularly good at masking his emotions. Not that he was really trying to at the moment. He was currently gripping the controls of the Gummi Ship with a scowl on his face so fierce that it would’ve been intimidating if it were directed Riku’s way.

Long gone were the days when Sora’s scowls made him look like an angry puppy. Riku was always going to be taller and bigger than his friend, but Sora had finally hit his adult height about a year ago and had the strength and fighting prowess to show for it.

Lucky bastard. He was just the right size to still move quickly while also packing quite the punch, as their sparring session earlier today had proven. Riku was stronger but not as fast, and he had a bruise on his arm from a well-aimed Keyblade blow to prove it.

“What’s wrong?” Riku asked, lounging on one of the nearby seats. He took a swig of his green tea and tried to keep reading his book. High school had to get finished somehow, and Riku was already two years past the normal graduation date. Twenty years old and still a student, how lame. At least he’d be graduating soon.

“I’m fine,” Sora ground out, though his tone made it clear he was anything but.

“It’s Kairi, isn’t it?” Riku didn’t even have to look up from his book to sense the change in Sora’s demeanor.

“It’s already been a week since I last saw her,” Sora said, his voice charged with emotion as the Gummi Ship lurched to the right, “and now I get sent on another last minute mission without any break? And right before Christmas too. What if I miss Christmas with her? How are we supposed to have a relationship like this?”

“You’ve managed this long,” Riku pointed out. A week or two weeks of separation was nothing compared to an entire year.

The Gummi Ship bounced up and down, and Riku’s tea splashed on him. He sensed more than saw the daggers Sora was glaring at him.

“Eyes on the skies,” he wryly remarked as he surveyed the damage to his clothes.

“Things are different now, Riku. We’re not kids anymore,” Sora said with just the note of petulance in his voice that made him sound like he still was one. Riku supposed his friend still had some maturing to do. They all did. It wasn’t like any of them had had normal growing up experiences. In some ways they were far beyond their peers; in others, far behind, and times like this made that very, very clear.

“Then stop moping and whining and ask Kairi to marry you already,” Riku said as he mopped up the spilled tea. His friends would have a lot more official recognition and the perks that came along with it if they would just tie the knot. They’d been dating for several years at this point. Why not just seal the deal already?

Sora groaned in frustration, running a hand through his spiky hair as he began the landing cycle. “But that would be even worse! Being separated from my wife all the time? I’d be a deadbeat husband.” He sighed and examined his hands, still tightly gripping the controls as he steered the ship. “We couldn’t bring kids into that mess either. I don’t want to be a deadbeat dad. I’m already a deadbeat boyfriend.”

Riku returned to his book. “Then you’ll have to make a choice. Do you keep traveling the worlds as the hero of the Keyblade, or do you settle down with Kairi?”

“I can’t make that choice yet!” Sora cried, his eyes flashing. Riku grabbed a spare scrap of paper to use as a substitute bookmark. This was going to take more than just a half-assed conversation to resolve. He waited patiently as Sora landed the Gummi Ship.

“If I don’t stop,” Sora continued once the ship’s engines had powered down, “it’s gonna drive Kairi and I apart! But there are still so many people out there who need my help. How can I turn my back on them?”

Riku sighed deeply. When they’d first started this adventure, things like marriage and family and long term commitments had seemed far away. Now those things loomed closer and closer. He didn’t have an answer for Sora because he didn’t have an answer for himself. And Kairi being a Keyblade wielder too made things more complicated. She was often sent out on missions as well, and even the times when Sora was on a break, there was no guarantee she would be too.

“The hero’s dilemma,” Riku told Sora at last. “We’ll never have normal lives, Sora. If you want a normal life, you’ll have to give up all of this,” he said, gesturing to their surroundings. “And no one can make that choice for you. Someday, you’ll either have to sacrifice your relationship with Kairi or your life as a Keyblade wielder. She’ll have to make that same choice if you want to make a relationship work long-term.”

Sora’s head jerked back at hearing the words “sacrifice” and “Kairi” in such close proximity to each other. But he was silent. The only noise was the faint Christmas music playing from the Gummi Ship’s speakers. It took a moment for Riku to notice the teardrops splotching onto Kairi’s lucky charm gripped in Sora’s palm.

Riku hated seeing his best friend cry. It made him uncomfortable because he couldn’t easily fix the problem.

“Listen, I’ll call Master Yen Sid tonight and ask if we can go back early if we finish the mission quickly,” Riku said. It was the best he could do under the circumstances. Maybe they could still make it home in time for Christmas.

“That sounds good,” Sora said, wiping his eyes. “I just wanted to be with her on Christmas. But I feel like Master Yen sends us out on missions on purpose when I’m more agitated and aggressive. Like he thinks I’ll fight better.”

That was entirely possible. Master Yen Sid was a good man overall, but he was also very calculating and would 100% figure out when each of them was in peak fighting condition.

“Well, do you?” Riku asked.

“When it’s between about four days and ten days of being separated from her, yeah, I do fight pretty well. After that I’m so irritable I’m worthless.” His eyes dropped to his hands. “And before that I’m too lovesick to be at my best,” he mumbled.

“With calculations like those, maybe you missed your calling as Ienzo’s research assistant,” Riku wryly replied as he opened his book again. It was surprisingly interesting and far less revolting than discussing Sora’s love life, and he really did want to know how it ended.

“What else am I supposed to do when I’m bored and frustrated?” Sora whined, flopping dramatically on the seat. “If I know when I’m in peak fighting condition, I’ll also know when I’m not. And that means I know what steps I need to take to avoid getting hurt—”

Riku scoffed. “You, be careful? You and Kairi both love to rush into danger, and then I have to fish you out of it. Imagine if you did get married and Master Yen Sid sent you on more missions together. My job would get a lot more stressful.”

“Hey, I’m trying my best here.” Sora scowled and his eyebrows did their best to express his sass, but then he sighed and rested his head against the back of the seat. “Do you think that’s why we don’t get to go on more missions together?” he asked in a small voice.

“You can’t concentrate to save your life when she’s anywhere nearby. You fight really well together, but the moment she gets so much as a cut, you panic and lose your focus.”

“So it is my fault.” Sora’s head drooped and his eyes were pained.

“I wouldn’t look at it like that. Keyblades make things more equal, sure, but you’ll always have certain advantages over her during combat. Magic can level the playing field, and she is a better mage than you—”

Sora pouted, and Riku rolled his eyes.

“—just barely, don’t look so offended. You’re never going to compete with the light in her heart and you know it. And she and you are both better mages than I am. But even with that advantage in one area of combat, the natural differences in raw physical strength between the two of you are still there. And that goes for any guy she has to fight. It’s only natural you worry about her.”

“Xemnas nearly broke her arm,” Sora whispered, resting his face in his hand. The haunted look in his eyes told Riku the memory might as well be from yesterday instead of four years ago. “Like he was just snapping a twig. And even when it’s just me and her…I’m not a big guy, but it still surprises me how much stronger I am than her sometimes.”

“But you know how to properly use and restrain that strength,” Riku pointed out, “and that’s what matters.”

Sora was silent.

“And did you just admit you’re not that big?” Riku asked, changing tactics. “Someone has finally given up on ever hitting six feet tall.”

“Hey, I made it to five ten, that’s pretty dang good for a runt!”

One look at Riku’s face made them both burst out laughing.

“Okay, okay, five eight and a half,” Sora amended.

“Who knew you had it in you.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’ll always be taller than me.” Sora was so mournful and melodramatic about it that Riku burst out laughing again. Sora grinned, and it was a welcome sight. Riku promised himself he’d complete this mission as soon as possible so his friends could be reunited in time for Christmas.

Sora was right. Riku teased him, but all those separations from Kairi couldn’t be good for their relationship. Helping his friends be reunited in time for Christmas was the least he could do.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: This story is based on some ideas Alja and I brainstormed together earlier this year about how Sora and Kairi would handle being separated from each other frequently, and this is both a very belated birthday present for her and a Christmas present all in one. Happy belated birthday and Merry Christmas, @angel-with-a-pipette ❤️

There will be five chapters total, and I'll be updating daily until it's done.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

[mycoolwritingcorner]

Sailor Moon: Reignstorm - Chapter 10: Promise

It had been an average day at the Game Center. Motoki stood at the counter, dying of boredom. Normally he tried to move around and help people who were stuck on some of the games, but he had been presented with very few opportunities to do that. So the most he could rely on to break up the monotony was waiting for some kid to redeem their tickets at the prize counter. 

That is, until he saw Mamoru enter through the doors. With any luck, maybe he could keep him company for a bit to help the time go by faster. It wasn’t until his friend got closer that he realized something was wrong. His fallen facial features were a dead give away. 

“Hey, Mamoru, what’s up? Everything okay?” Motoki asked his friend.

“Uh… no.” Mamoru said honestly, “Look, I need you to close the arcade early today.”

“Um… I could probably go on break a bit early if you need me for something, but I can’t exactly-”

“No, it’s not you, it’s… the building. I need it.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?” Motoki questioned.

“Look, I just need you to trust me, okay?” Mamoru pleaded.

“No, that’s not okay!” Motoki responded, “I put up with a lot of crap and secrets from you, but you can’t just walk in here and tell me to do something that could get me in trouble and expect me to just go with it.”

Mamoru paused for a moment, looking anxiously toward the entrance, “Alright, fine, you want the truth?” He asked, to which Motoki simply nodded in response, “Alright, here goes. I’m Tuxedo Mask.” Mamoru said in a hushed tone, “Usagi is Sailor Moon, her friends are the Sailor Guardians, and they have a supercomputer hidden in the Sailor V arcade game that they need to use to track down one of their friends. And you have about a minute and a half to get everyone out of here before Mako comes in and forces them all out.”

Motoki stood in stunned silence for a good while before he was able to finally speak again “You… you’re not joking…” He finally choked out.

“No. I’m not.” 

“It all makes sense now. You randomly disappearing for days on end and showing up with bruises and-”

“Listen, buddy, I promise I will explain everything later. But for right now…”

“Right! Right!” Motoki said, “Um, attention everyone!” He announced to the patrons of the Game Center, “I’m sorry, but we’re closing early due to an emergency! You will all have to come back tomorrow!”

Some customers were more respectful than others, but ultimately Motoki was able to get them all to clear out, before switching the sign to ‘closed’ on the front of the center.

“Alright, you’re good everyone.” Mamoru said into his communicator, and mere moments later, Usagi, Rei, Minako and Makoto along with their cats came walking through the front entrance.

“Uh… hey, everyone.” Motoki said awkwardly.

“Out of my way, Furuhata.” Makoto said darkly, pushing past Motoki and heading straight for the Sailor V arcade machine.

“Um… is she…?” Motoki began to ask Mamoru.

“Ami was taken by the enemy.” Mamoru explained, gloomily.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Motoki asked, “Is there anything I can do to-?”

“You’ve done plenty already. Just go get some rest.” Mamoru said to his friend.

…

“How do you make this damn thing work!?” Makoto cried in frustration, pushing every button on the Sailor V arcade cabinet.

“Luna’s the only one of us other than Ami who can work that thing, Mako.” Rei explained calmly, “Just leave it to her.”

Makoto backed up and allowed Luna to jump onto the machine. The feline instantly got to work.

“With any luck, I’ll be able to triangulate her position from her computer.” Luna explained, “Only issue is that it needs to be activated for that to work.”

“Is there any other way you can track her?” Makoto asked, desperately.

“Maybe. Trust me, Mako, I’ll do everything I can to find her.”

“Alright, thank you.” The Guardian of Thunder said sincerely, before turning to her friends, “In the meantime, we need to talk about what we’re up against.” 

“What do you mean?” Artemis asked.

“We can’t go easy on them again. The next time we run into them we take them down, hard and fast. And Sailor Chaos? She’s mine.” Makoto said, definitively.

“You mean Naru?” Usagi said meekly.

“What?” Makoto asked indignantly.

“Her name is Naru.” 

“Well, to be honest with you, Usagi, I don’t really care what her name is right now.” Makoto shot back, “All I care about is stopping her from doing any more harm.”

“She needs our help!” 

“She doesn’t want our help!” Makoto rebutted, “You weren’t there. She was toying with us, enjoying herself.”

“That’s not really her! It’s not any of them! It’s-!”

“I don’t care! We treated them with kid gloves, and look where it got us!” Makoto shouted, “Ami could be dead for all we know!”

“She’s not. They wouldn’t go through the trouble of capturing her just to kill her.” Rei interjected.

“Until they get what they want from her!” Makoto replied angrily.

“Mako, we can’t just-” Usagi began, before being cut off.

“You’re in no position to tell me what I can and can’t do! You weren’t there!” Makoto all but screamed, pointing directly at Usagi.

“I told you! I tried! But Haruka and the others, they-”

“They stopped you? Let me ask you something, Usagi. Can you honestly tell me you did everything you could to get through them and get to us?” Makoto asked, “Or did you hold back? Because you would rather let us keep getting hurt than do what has to be done!?”

“I… I…” Usagi stuttered, her eyes welling up with tears.

“Alright, Mako, that’s enough!” Rei said, approaching the auburn-haired guardian.

Suddenly, Makoto felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see it belonged to Minako, who was looking at her with pleading eyes.

“Can you join me outside?” The Guardian of Beauty asked, “Please?”

… 

Ami didn’t know where she was. She felt like she had been wandering forever. But when she looked around, all she could see was darkness.

“Hello?” She asked, timidly.

“Can you believe her?” Ami heard from a distance, in a voice she could’ve sworn belonged to Usagi. She began to make her way towards the source. As she got closer she was able to make out what appeared to be the visages of her friends, shrouded in darkness.

“Guys? Guys! I’m here! I’m-!”

“How stuck up can you be?”

Ami stopped dead in her tracks.

“‘Oh, poor me, I got a ninety-one because I finally took my nose out of a book for once’, gimme a break.”

“She thinks she’s so much better than us, just because she gets good grades.”

“No… no I don’t, I-”

“Yeah, even though that’s literally the only thing she’s good at.”

“Oh I know! I mean, how many times have we had to bail her out during a fight? Talk about a weak link!”

“Honestly Mako, I don’t know why you decided to date her.”

“Yeah, well, I honestly just felt sorry for her.”

“What?”

“I mean, she’s just so pathetic, how could I not? But I’ve gotta be honest, I’m really reaching the end of my rope with her.”

“Mako… no… I…” Ami choked out, grasping at her chest and collapsing onto her knees as tears began to fall from her eyes, an icy cold feeling filling her entire being.

“That’s right. You are alone. You will always be alone.” She heard Reign’s voice say from the aether.

“No… no… it’s not…” 

“You know it’s true. They could never understand you.”

“They could never…”

“No one could ever love you.”

“... ever… love me…”

“However… that doesn’t have to be so.” Reign said, appearing in front of Ami and kneeling down to her eye-level, “Join with us… help us rewrite this world… show those who shunned you the error of their ways.”

“Yes… yes…” Ami said, looking up towards Reign. Wispy shadows began to protrude from the ground and wrap themselves around her. As they did so Ami’s thoughts would continue to twist and bend. The pain that came from years of isolation all coming to the surface at once. No friends to call her own, her mother constantly gone, even her own father wanted nothing to do with her. How could she have let herself believe Usagi and the others would be any different? How could she have been so stupid?

“And it all starts with the Golden Crystal.”

“The Golden… Crystal…”

“I need the code, Ami.”

“The code… right… the code is…”

“This is Ami, she’s the really smart one.” Usagi’s voice would chime from the darkness.

“What?” Reign asked, confused.

Suddenly, the black void around the two of them morphed into the Crown Game Center, visages of Ami’s friends appearing as well, replaying a scene from years ago. 

“And the cat with the crescent bald spot is Luna!” 

“Aw, how cute!” 

“That… that’s right.” Ami said, slowly standing back up as the icy feeling in her chest would fade, “They do love me… they accept me for who I am…”

The blue-haired girl pulled out her Crystal Change Rod, “You can’t trick me Reign! I’ll stop- ah!” Ami screamed as she was electrocuted by black lightning from Reign’s hand.

“Yes, yes, that’s very cute. But let’s not forget who’s in control here.” Reign began to inspect the memory, “You recalled this upon being asked the code, so something here must be important.”

“No…” Ami cried as Reign analyzed her precious memory like they were watching a TV show, her still being stuck in place by the dark energy.

“Hmm… ah, I see.” Reign said, looking at a calendar behind the front desk, “The day when you first met her… that’s the code, isn’t it?”

“Stop it…” Ami pleaded.

“How sweet. I must thank you for your help, Miss Mizuno. Maybe when you wake up you’ll be more cooperative.” Reign remarked before blasting Ami with energy, rendering her unconscious.

…

“What do you want?” Makoto asked, having stepped out of the Crown Game Center with Minako.

“Seemed like you needed some air.” Minako replied.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re freaking out.”

“Of course I’m freaking out!” Makoto shouted.

“I get it. I do.” Minako said, “But you need to calm down before you do something you regret.”

“Oh, please, don’t you dare get on my case. We both know if this were Rei you would be the exact same way.”

Minako was stunned, “How… how do you…?”

“Does it matter?” Makoto asked, “You know I’m right.”

Minako pondered her friend's words for a moment. She was still confused as to how Makoto had come to learn about her feelings for Rei, but that was something she could deal with at another time.

“Y’know what? You’re right, Mako.” Mina said, “I would be a total wreck if something like that happened to Rei. Or any of you really. I would probably lash out the same way you are.” Mina stepped forward and locked eyes with Mako, “And I would trust you to be the one to stop me from doing something stupid.”

“You… you don’t understand… none of you could.” Makoto said, leaning back against the wall.

“Well… then help me understand.” Mina said, sincerely.

“I… I was supposed to protect her.” The taller girl began, her eyes welling up with tears, “I promised her I would protect her!”

“Mako, this is not your fault.” Mina said, reassuringly, “Risk comes with the job, Ami knows that, she-”

“She came to me last night, sobbing, because she was so scared of doing this again.” Makoto said bluntly, “And I told her that I wouldn’t let anything happen to her and I… I failed. I failed her.”

“Mako…”

“She must be so scared…” Mako said, tears rolling down her face, “... if she’s even…”

Suddenly, the green-eyed girl would find herself pulled into a hug by her friend, “Mako, listen to me. Ami’s strong… a lot stronger than I think even she realizes. She’s okay, I know she is. And I don’t think she’s scared at all. You wanna know why?”

“W-why?”

“Because she knows you would never break your promise. She knows you’re gonna save her.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

Mina would simply stand there, holding the taller girl, giving her a moment to recollect herself, before suddenly they heard the Game Center door open, and broke their hug to look at Rei, who had stepped out of the building.

“Guys, Luna’s got something!”

The three girls dashed back into the building and up to the arcade machine, “Did you find her?” Makoto asked, desperately.

“I think so.” Luna said, “I’m getting a signal from her computer, I’m triangulating the position now!” The computer pinged, indicating the final result had been delivered, “Got her! She’s… oh no…”

“Where?! Where is… oh my god.” Makoto said in shock. The group all looked at the location on the screen in stunned silence, with only some light gasps being thrown into the mix, until Usagi finally managed to choke out the name of the cursed location in question.

“D-Point.”

-------------------------------

I can only apologize for long waits between chapters so many times but... sorry. I really wanted to get to a point where I was uploading at least once a month, but I've really been in a slump since the beginning of the year. And obviously this story is really important to me, it's basically the culmination of everything I've written thus far and I really want it to be good. Which has kind of paralyzed me in a lot of ways when it comes to writing/editing it.

Not to mention it feels like the weeks just fly by (it really does not feel like it's been three months since the last update). Regardless, I know I'm making excuses, but all this is to say I really do appreciate everyone who has stuck with this story despite the long waits between chapters. And I really will try to start updating at least once a month. I know I've said that before. And if we're being real here, I'll probably say it again, but I promise to try.

Anyway, onto our normal chapter notes stuff.

Why has Reign set up shop in the Dark Kingdom's old hideout? And how will the Sailor Guardians brave the site of their own demise to save their comrade?

Come back next time for Chapter 11 to find out. But until then, thank you once again to everyone who has kept reading this story.

And please please please let me know what you think of the story thus far, Comments, reblogs, etc are very much appreciated. And until next time, take care everyone (:

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter: TBA

[aajjks]

she does 🥹 they got her

mommy issues!JK

‘dammit’ curses eunwoo. he wished he never brought moon or you up because now jungkook is desperate to see you. it all happened so fast he can barely remember what happened and maybe it’s for the best. although he wasn’t there, it was certainly horrifying and you witnessed it all: the wreck, the blood, and a limp jungkook barely hanging on to life.

“jungkook calm down, alright? look at yourself! you can barely move. i promise, y/n is okay. seol is with alina, moon is in the room with y/n and your father is with her. me, your mom and your dad have been here the moment we found out about the car wreck. you need to rest, jungkook. i’ll have alina bring seol here tomorrow but you’ve gotta calm down” eunwoo pleads as he watches his best friend attempt to lift himself up to see you.

a lot has been dumped on him just now and although his memory is foggy, you need him. despite the immense pain he’s in, he stubbornly refuses to rest until he sees you with his own eyes. “kookie, stop” says ji-yeon as she tries her best to hold her son down and tell him to relax but he still puts up a fight. he has to see you, he has to.

“jungkook quit it before the doctors sedate you! y/n is fine. moon is fine. everyone is okay. moon is healthy and y/n is weak from childbirth. it’s nothing critical, okay? don’t you want to see her? you’ve gotta stop and let your body heal instead of forcing it. just be patient alright? the moment they clear her, we’ll bring her with us. she wants to see you just as much as you do but you have to wait”

~🫧

He is too weak to fight and he understands his families concerns, but they’re not getting him at all.

You were supposed to give birth with him by your side, but you had to do it all alone. And a premature birth… you need him right now. Jungkook grunts in anger and looks away from both of them.

“D-Don’t talk to me.” He whines. he doesn’t know when he’s going to heal, but he will see you soon. Maybe not right now because you need rest.

But he is dying to see you.

He will have to be really patient, he wants to see his daughter more than anything right now. “W-Who crashed into my car?” He weakly asks.. before his friend can say anything though, Jungkooks mother stops him.

Whoever that person is, Jungkook is going to heal and find them and ruin them.

•••

Almost 2 weeks have passed and he’s still stuck at the hospital forbidden from seeing you or walking or doing anything without the nurses help.

His bones are still broken. And he has both casts over his arms.

But he’s trying his best to heal. You were discharged.. a long time ago. Maybe you will come to see him today.

Jungkook misses you more than anything right now, Eunwoo and Alina visit him daily, and they have shown him some pictures of Moon, and goodness she’s the most adorable little bunny ever.

Seol cried so much when he saw his father’s condition. It was a really emotional time for him. Jungkooks face has started to heal a little bit.

Now, Jungkook has his own moon, sun and stars.

Moon being Moon.

Sun being you

And stars being Seol.

You three are his universe.

And the good news is that his legs weren’t injured so he is able to walk and now he has been officially discharged this morning so he’s waiting for someone from his family to pick him up.

He hopes That you will come too, but he knows that you have an infant to take care of.. and you have a five year-old little toddler too. You have been staying with his parents in their house because that was the best decision that could’ve been taken at the time since you have been unable to move into your incheon home.

It was delayed due to the accident.

He still hasn’t any idea of who was behind the accident, but he’s going to find them.

“Ahhhh kookie! WE ARE HERE TO TAKE YOU HOME MAN!” Jungkook is pulled out of his thoughts by the voice of his over enthusiastic friend, Eunwoo and he watches his mother follow behind him.

“My kookie… you’ve gotten so much better. We’re here to take you home..”

[bunnyscar]

Coming Home

written for the @comfy-vember event, day 18 prompt: Coming home

This takes place towards the end of a story idea. I don’t have the story very planned out yet, but it seemed to really fit the prompt for today. The story is an apocalyptic, sci-fi adventure where a mother goes chasing after her run-away son and ends up in harrowing adventures (includes running from zombies and using frying pans as weapons).

Ring a ling a ling! Karen picked her cell phone up and stared at the caller ID. Michael. She stood a full 30 seconds just staring at the phone, unable to breathe. Unable to answer. He only ever called if he had something really earth-shattering to tell her, and the last time he’d called it had been to tell her he was leaving.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed the talk button and said cheerily into the phone, “Hi Michael, how are you?”

“Hi…Mom.”

Once again, she was frozen. Mom. How long had it been since Michael had called her that?

Hearing no response, he continued. “Uh, how are your classes going?”

Recovering herself, Karen said, “They’re good. We’re getting close to summer break, though, so everyone’s a little antsy and there’s a lot of grading to do for us teachers. Are you doing all right? Are they feeding you enough at the center? Are you getting enough sleep?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. The people at the detention center are pretty nice.” An awkward pause. “I actually called because I needed to tell you—they’re releasing me in a couple weeks.”

“Really?” Karen cried. “Oh, that’s wonderful, wonderful! Then all your tests came back okay?”

“Yes, no sign that I got infected. I won’t be able to go outside without a chaperone for the next 3 months, but as long as I don’t try to run away from you again or go back to Sector 13, I won’t have to be confined at the detention center.”

“So you’ll be--” Karen found she couldn’t say the words. The words she’d always wanted him to say, always wanted him to believe.

There was a pause, and then she heard them, quiet but clear. “I’m coming home.”

[cenviswasteland]

Promise it to me. (Promise me the sea.)

Written for FreyVay Week 2024!

June 23rd -- Nature || Picnic || Flowers || Apple || Fantasy

Word Count: 5319

Rated: T.

Content warnings: mild fear, near-death experience (drowning).

Synopsis: Frey, pirate on the ship Lovelass, is tossed overboard during a nasty storm. Someone saves him.

[Check out the playlist for today!]

– I –

The seas and sky were clear today. Frey had found a comfortable, out of the way corner on the deck and sat down with the sailing log for the Lovelass. The Captain was usually in charge of it, but he’d been below deck for the past week recovering from something that was probably scurvy, and Frey was the only other sailor that could write decently.

20 June 1717

We are going to dock in New Providence. Standard trade and restock. It was supposed to be Port Royal. The last crew we saw got gutted by the British there. It makes for an added three days on the sea, but our crew is all wanted men. No one wants that kind of a brush. Captain is planning his next move.

Something came down on his head, hard and swift. Frey yelped, and his hand flew up to where he’d been hit.

“Show a leg, boy!”

He sighed as he looked up. “I’m awake, Cornie. I’m awake.”

Cornie pulled his hand away and crossed his arms. “Y’ain’t doin’ anything.”

Frey raised an eyebrow at that. Cornie didn’t do much of anything, either. Two ports ago, he’d “gotten his hands on” a scrap of royal purple fabric– which was now tied around his waist, stained by dirt and salt. It still made him look a lot more important than he was.

“Is there anything I can be doing?” Frey questioned, glancing around.

“Could be.”

“But,” Frey continued. “we’re on a straight path, the waves and winds are on our side, and Sawyer’s better with the wheel than I’ll ever be.”

“Aye, but–”

“When did you get pushed up the ranks?” he asked, knowing full well that he was poking a bear.

“You–” Cornie spluttered. “You and your damn sea dog book.”

Frey motioned back to his journal, tilting his head slightly. “It’s important work.”

“Maybe for the people that can read,” he shot back, obviously displeased with how little he was getting under Frey’s skin. “Ain’t nobody out here interested in your parchment shapes. Expectin’ to show off our travels to the fishes?”

“Maybe the Kra–”

Cornie waved his arms around wildly, a frustrated surrender. “Don’t you start. Can’t believe Cap filled up yer head with all his Nelson’s folly nothin’s.”

“You’re cranky today,” Frey chuckled.

“You shoulda stayed on land.”

“If only, huh?”

Someone on the other side of the ship yelled for Cornie– Frey couldn’t make out the voice– and he went scampering off with a final glare and a hiss of “Bilge rat.” 

Frey was, all things considered, a fine addition to the crew. He did as he was told when things needed to be done, and he had enough muscle on him to haul crates and bodies when necessary. It was his mouth that got him in trouble. The crew liked to joke– when they weren’t harassing him for being the Captain’s son– that God put an attorney’s soul in a tar’s body. They said if Frey had stayed on land for just a little longer, he probably would have been ordering everyone on the Lovelass to the gallows.

He turned himself back to the log.

I say again– no one is happy about more time on the sea. Rations have been tight for a while. It has only gotten worse. We live off rum and hardtack now. The Captain is trying to keep everyone in high spirits, but most barely have the ‘spirits’ to withstand him.

The wind whistled past, blowing into the sails. A few men let out cries of joy as the ship rocked forwards. Frey dug his heel between two wooden boards to keep from sliding, shutting his book and clutching it close to his chest. The waves had gotten choppy. He wouldn’t be able to keep writing until things calmed down again.

When the sea got like this, Frey always ended up thinking about the stories that the Captain told him. They were tales of the fantastic, things that he’d picked up traveling to London and Paris and Amsterdam. Apparently, those who stayed on land filled their days with the could-be monsters of the seas– the Kraken with its massive octopus body that could drag sailors to their doom, the mermaids that sang so sweetly that they could seduce any man to his demise, the half-fish half-horse that appeared on beaches and coerced a man into getting on its back to drag him into the depths… 

Frey once told the Captain that it seemed like they would fabricate just about anything to keep their men on land. He told Frey to keep his ears covered when the ship went past large rocks.

He knew that the Captain’s stories didn’t hold any weight, but he was the only one that would stay and listen when he told them. The crew thought they were useless stories to scare children away from the sea.The Captain swore his life on every tale. Frey barely believed in the Lord most days– he wasn’t about to go believing in selkies and sirens. The only things that were certain were the things that could be proven. Even so, it was nice to dream. Sometimes, he would sneak out of the barracks in the middle of the night and hope to see something in the dark waters below.

“Frey!”

The loud voice shook him out of his thoughts, and he turned his head towards the bow of the ship. Sawyer was waving for his attention. Frey scrambled to his feet and waved back.

“The winds are changing!” Sawyer called out. “I think a storm’s coming on. Get some more hands– batten it down!”

“Aye!”

It took him a few minutes to gather up enough men. He sent Cornie down to inform the Captain while Flynn and Kasper went with him to get the sails. In just that time, the skies had already started to darken, dark gray clouds rolling over the light blue skies, blanketing it all in gloom.

The Lovelass was never the perfect ship. The masts were a little too big for most to climb comfortably, and the sails couldn’t come down. They had to come fully off every time. It was Frey’s official job to tie and untie the ropes on the top masts. He was the only one with enough strength and flexibility for it– probably because he was the youngest of the crew, barely eighteen.

Kasper helped Frey get his footing on the netting up, and he started his climb as quickly as he could. The sooner he got down, the better in these conditions. Wind whistled past like a melody, rocking the ship into the waves. Frey had to steady himself before continuing.

At the half-way point of his climb, the crew below erupted into shouting and commotion. Frey glanced down to see that the Captain had emerged from his quarters, leaning against his cutlass for support while he barked orders to the crew. In a risky move, Frey waved down to him. He nodded back, and Frey continued his climb.

It took another half-minute to get up onto the masts, and the sky had gone cold and dangerously gray. Frey swung his leg around to anchor himself in a seated position, immediately working on untying the rope knots. He knew them like the back of his hand.

Flynn called up to him, his voice distant. “Alright, lad?”

“I’ll be fine! Get ready to catch!”

Frey pulled the knot loose and pushed the sail down. It fluttered in the wind for a moment before someone pulled it down onto the deck. The waves were dangerous right now. One crashed into the ship and threw Frey forward. He gasped in pain as his chest connected with the mast– but the blow didn’t do much other than knock the air out of him.

In good weather, the view from up here would be gorgeous. Now, with the seas dark and the wind battering him, Frey just wanted down. He couldn’t stand the way the wind was whistling, like a trick against him. He knocked his boot against a few points of the mast, feeling around for the netting again.

That was when he saw it. Between the seafoam and the waves, something in the water was moving. Glittering, almost, despite the darkness. Bright red, like a ruby. He stared at the shape for a moment, trying to make it out. It had to be some kind of fish, but he’d never seen anything like it. It was barely a fathom away, turning and twisting next to the ship as if it was inviting her to dance with it.

“Frey!”

He pulled himself back to reality and waved down to Kasper. “I’m alright!”

“The Hell are you doing? Get down here!”

“Aye!”

His foot slipped into the netting and he started his climb down on the makeshift ladder. Against his better judgment, he kept letting his eyes drift to the sea. The red shape had disappeared into the ocean, and he knew it was a trick of the light, but for some reason he wanted to see one more second of it.

It was his own folly, really. He thought he’d gotten his foot on another rope rung and let go without thinking. A wave crashed into the ship at the same time. The mast hit him at full force and spun. It sent him flying through the air. He stretched out his hand, trying to grasp onto something. He caught nothing.

That melody was still in the wind. In another situation, Frey would have stopped and listened.

But his ears and eyes filled with water, and it all went dark.

– II –

He was falling. He was floating. All the wind had been knocked out of him. Frey had to be dead– if not from drowning, from the cold. There was an arm around his waist. It pushed him and pulled him. He was still breathing. It didn’t make sense. Was he dreaming? It felt like the sun was shining on his face. Something cold– a hand?– was on his cheek. The same feeling was on the back of his head. Someone was singing. He couldn’t make out the language. It was a beautiful melody. It was a familiar melody.

He’d heard it on the sea.

Frey shot forward, every limb making its own spastic movement. His lungs were burning, and he coughed heavily. His fingers dug into warm sand. His clothing clung to him, still wet. He was staring out into the sea. He was on a beach. He was alive. He nearly laughed at the realization, but his head throbbed and he doubled over again. The pain spread into the rest of his body. It felt awful. Melodramatically, he considered if death would be better than whatever he was feeling.

His memories came back to him in pieces as he pulled himself to his feet. He was flung off of the ship and went into the waves. It was a miracle that he washed up on any kind of shore. He pulled in a sharp breath as he stretched, trying to make his body remember how to be human. The obvious questions swam across his mind– Where’s the ship? Where am I? Where’s the crew?– and he turned in place to survey the area.

Half of whatever beach Frey had washed up on was obscured by large rocks. The sand was clean, the tide was high, and the sun was beating down on him. He glanced right– lots of nothing– then left– more nothing broken up by the wreckage of the ship. Frey turned himself to the right and took a few steps before realizing that the ship was on the beach, at which he promptly turned on his heel and bolted towards it.

He finally arrived in front of the Lovelass properly after a few grueling minutes, clutching at his stomach to ward off the pain still rocking through his body. At first glance, he couldn’t see any of the crew. Hopefully they were all looking for each other, or below deck, or something. He kept walking closer. His foot caught on something and he stumbled, falling back against the sand. Fantastic.

Frey picked himself back up and looked down to see what he’d tripped over– a man face-down in the sand. He quickly knelt down and pushed him onto his side. It was the Captain. Frey breathed out a sigh of relief, and then shook the man to try and wake him up.

He stirred after a few seconds, opening his eyes. His expression turned baffled in an instant. “Frey?”

“Captain,” he greeted with a laugh.

“Saw you go flying into the sea,” the Captain returned with a smile, reaching his hand up to ruffle Frey’s salt-dried hair. “Thought you were dead, boy.”

“So did I. Are you alright? Is anything broken?”

“Not from what I can tell,” he replied.

Frey got to his feet, then helped the Captain up. “I suppose you don’t know where the rest of the crew is.”

“Not an inkling,” the Captain said, slowly stretching. “Where are we?”

“I wish I knew. I was trying to search for you all.”

“How ‘bout I take up the search for the crew? You venture through and see if there’s anything we can eat. Bet all our food’s rot now.”

Frey nodded. “Aye. Yell if you need help– I’ll try to stay close.”

“Atta boy.”

With that, Frey was off. He tracked how long he was searching by the sun in the sky, and within a few hours he’d been able to walk the length of the land. It was a small island, the kind of thing that sailors would talk about like a legend. The coastline circled into something that was barely a forest. Some of the trees bore fruit, and they’d be able to catch up some fish assuming any of their rods survived.

The wind continued to whistle away, making that same melody. It was going to drive him mad at some point. The setting sunlight and circumstances had to be playing tricks on him, that was all, but he swore he kept seeing something red swimming around the island. He almost considered following it a few times, just to see if it led anywhere, but decided against it. 

Something called on the breeze. It almost sounded like a name. Frey tried to ignore it, and despite his effort it continued to call. It just got louder. Eventually–

Alexander…?

–Frey heard who it was calling for.

It froze him in his tracks, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He called out: “Who’s there?”

Alexander?

“How do you know that name?”

Alexander!

It sounded further away that time, like a taunt. Frey fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Before he even realized, he was already running towards the voice, shouting questions the whole way.

His feet carried him to the other side of the island, away from the Lovelass and the crew. The coastline wrapped around the island, as it turned out, but this side was more rocks than sand. Frey caught his breath for just a moment before saying again: “Who’s there?”

“Who’s there?” the voice echoed, as if it wasn’t comfortable with its own words.

“My– my name is Frey,” he explained. “I sail on the galleon Lovelass. We got caught in the storm and crashed on the beach. I’m just looking for my crew–”

It was then that a man lifted himself up on the rock, stopping before he showed his waist. His hair was long and blonde– it was wet and it clung to his pale cheeks. He had no tunic on, and for a moment Frey wondered if he didn’t have any clothing at all. His gray eyes were wide, practically boring into Frey with how hard he was staring. He was beautiful.

Frey balked, stumbling over his thoughts. “Who… Who are you?”

He let out a noise, a single note without any word behind it. Frey must have looked surprised, because the man made the same noise and then frowned.

“Are you trapped? Do you need help?” Frey pressed.

The man tilted his head, still staring.

“Can you… not speak English?” Frey asked tentatively.

The man held out his hand as if waiting for something. His fingers were long and slender, and his nails were sharp. Carefully, Frey approached.

“Alexander?” the man asked, his voice almost sounding clumsy.

“That’s my father’s name,” Frey said. “How do you know it?”

There was a splashing sound against the water, and the man grimaced. He extended his hand again, more forcefully this time. Frey knelt down in front of him, and put out his hand in return. The man grabbed it and pulled, as if he was trying to drag Frey into the sea.

Frey yelped and wrenched his hand away. “What was that for?”

The man just kept staring, tilting his head the other way. It was like he was trying to drink in Frey’s image, or like he wasn’t quite sure how to quantify him. Frey started to match his movements, much to the other man’s delight.

After a few seconds, Frey spoke again. “Alright, we’re getting nowhere with this.”

The man frowned at that.

“Do you know what ‘yes’ and ‘no’ mean?” Frey asked, making the appropriate head motions alongside his words.

His face lit up, and he nodded. Yes. 

Frey sat properly on the rock, crossing his legs to hold the man’s stare. “Great, now we can talk.”

It started with normal questions: Do you live here? was answered with a Yes. So were Did you see our ship crash?, Do you know where the crew is?, and Are they safe?

“You can understand English,” Frey started, and that was met with a Yes. “But you can’t speak a lot of it?”

Another yes.

“Well, what do they call you in your language?”

The man made that same little noise again, looking expectantly at the sailor. Frey tried to make the same noise. The man looked disgusted for a moment, then repeated the noise. He, again, tried to repeat it. The response was an immediate shake of his head, the disgust on his face almost turning to horror.

“I guess I didn’t get it right?” Frey chuckled. “Did I say something bad?”

He nodded, then gave Frey another up-and-down glance. He put out his hand again.

“Last time I took your hand, you tried to pull me into the ocean.”

There wasn’t a yes or no answer to that, but he let out another series of vocalizations– a melody in its own right– and it would have been beautiful if not for how angry the man looked. Frey turned his head, trying to understand what was being sung to him.

Frey apologized before continuing his questions. The man wasn’t trying to hurt him or the crew– so he claimed– but there were others that might. He refused to come out of the water. Frey got him to point to where the sun was in the sky when the Lovelass crashed– crawling upwards in the East– and if it had been more than a day. It hadn’t. 

“Have you seen anything red in the water?” he eventually asked.

The man tilted his head, like he didn’t understand.

“The– the color of rubies, and blood, and apples,” Frey clarified after a moment.

His face lit up for a moment in understanding, then fell into a frown. He shook his head.

Frey sighed. “It might have been a trick, but I swear I saw something swimming next to the ship. Brilliant red, fast as an arrow. Could you keep a lookout for it, maybe?”

He tilted his head to each side like he was considering it, then nodded.

“Frey?” called a voice– he recognized it instantly as Sawyer.

The man pulled in a breath, and he hid behind the rock. 

“Wait, wait–” Frey begged. The man peeked out again.

Frey’s voice fell to a whisper. “Will you be here at dawn?”

He nodded.

“Then I’ll be back. I swear it.”

He smiled, and Frey matched it before pulling himself to his feet. He glanced back down to the water, but the man was already gone.

“I’m over here!” he called.

“Frey!”

Sawyer came tumbling out of the foliage, and they both froze for a moment.

“Sweet Jesus, you look like Hell,” Sawyer said, a smile spreading across his face.

“Well, I did get thrown out of the ship from the crow’s nest,” he laughed, stepping forwards to meet him.

Sawyer pulled him into a tight hug, then pulled back. He kept his hands on Frey’s shoulders. “I’m glad you’re alive, mate. The Captain gathered us all up– Flynn got himself a broken arm, but other than that we’ll all be fine by the morning. Come on, let’s get you back.”

“Aye.”

– III –

23 June 1717

The repairs are going well. We finally got enough wood to fix up the rudder before turning in for the night yesterday, and we should have the ship back on the sea in two days. Everyone’s finding his own way through it, as expected, but nobody is complaining about the fresh food. We plan to take some of it with us, maybe fill a barrel with it if we can. The Captain is sending Cornie and Sawyer out foraging when it gets light enough.

That meant that Frey didn’t have much time today. The repairs had been exhausting him physically and mentally, and he’d slept in later than he meant to.

He’d been taking campfire duty every night, claiming The rest of the crew needs more sleep than I do and the like, and he’d been making sure to sleep without covering his eyes, just in service of sneaking away from the group. 

He still hadn’t been able to get the man’s name. It was the worst part of the language barrier. Frey had taken to calling him songbird because of the way his native tongue sounded– the clicks and trills reminded him of a bird. Frey had been showing him the Captain’s log and helping him speak English, but it was still a mess most days. Even so, it was the most fun he’d had in ages. 

This morning, he filled his leather pack with a simple breakfast– he’d pick a few apples on the way– and set off, book in hand. The path to their spot was practically muscle memory at this point.

Frey sat down on the same rock, setting his pack and the book next to him, before knocking on the stone a few times. “Songbird?”

Like clockwork, the man peeked his head out, unsure at first. His eyes lit up for just a moment before his expression settled back into that inquisitive, neutral gaze that Frey had grown so used to.

“…Frey.”

It was his turn to light up, a giddy smile spreading across his face. “You remembered!”

He looked away, but nodded.

Frey turned back to his pack for a moment, then pulled an apple from it. “Are you hungry?”

He eyed the fruit for a moment, and when Frey held it out to him, he took it. Frey watched as he turned it in his hand, inspecting it, before biting into it. His eyes went wide for a moment, and then a slight smile spread over his face.

“Have you never had an apple before?” he teased. His question was met with a shake of the head.

It was when he opened his mouth to take another bite that Frey caught just how sharp his teeth were– each one was a point, as if he was a shark, not a human. He let the other man finish the apple before he asked the question that had been eating away at him for days.

“You’re… not human, are you?”

His eyes widened, and he stared back at Frey. He flushed red like a human, and then shook his head.

“What are you, then?”

He held out his palm again, as if that was an answer.

Frey glanced down, then chuckled. “Fine. Don’t drag me to my death, alright? I like you.”

He took the other man’s hand.

In the next moment, he was pulled back into the cold sea. Instinctively, Frey panicked, but something caught him by his wrist, and the weight stayed even as the man’s hand slipped out of his. Frey pulled in a breath.

And then he paused, floating in the ocean, and realized he’d just breathed. He took another breath as if he was trying to prove it to himself. It felt strange– awful, really– but he was breathing.

“Open your eyes,” said a voice from behind him, beautiful and sweet.

Slowly, he let his eyes flutter open, and the man was in front of him. His hair floated around his head like a halo, and his pale skin blended into scales at his hips– a tail, brilliantly red and shimmering in the water. He was smiling, marveling in the way Frey reacted.

“Can you speak?” he asked.

“I–” Frey tested, every sensation in his body foreign and impossible. “How…?”

“The sea is more fantastic than you realized, Frey of the Lovelass.”

He twisted in the water, swimming a circle around him, before taking him by the wrist. Frey looked down to see a band of shells adorning his tanned skin. He reached for it, and the other man pulled his hand away. “Don’t take that off, you’ll drown in an instant.”

“What– What is it?”

“I think your kind call it magic.” He laughed, and it sounded like the waves.

Frey had to look down at his legs, just to make sure he still had them. He did.

“What’s your name?” Frey asked again.

“Valence,” was the response. “I’ve been trying to tell you for days.”

“Valence,” Frey repeated, testing the word. “It’s beautiful.”

“I know.”

Valence turned again in the water, graceful and fantastic, and appeared again in front of Frey. He took a hold of Frey’s face, turning his head to each side. 

“What are you doing?” Frey asked, almost laughing.

“Observing.”

“And what have you observed?”

“You don’t look all that different from us,” he said. “but your eyes aren’t as bright.”

“Are you the same red thing that was brushing up against the Lovelass before she crashed?” Frey asked.

“What do you think?” Valence asked back, a smile playing at his lips.

“Then why’d you lie?”

“I couldn’t explain it properly.”

Frey couldn’t argue with that.

“I was also the one to drag you out of the ocean,” Valence continued. “In case you wanted to thank me for that.”

He laughed. “Thank you very much for saving my life, songbird.”

Valence gave him a look of exasperation. “Don’t call me that. You know my name now.”

“But it fits you so well!”

He glared, and the fin of his tail flicked in a way that seemed just as angry. Frey took something close to a bow– it was hard when floating in the ocean. “Yes, your Highness.”

“Better,” he said.

“How do you know my father’s name?” Frey pushed.

“I don’t.”

“But you said it a hundred times.”

“I can’t control the songs I sing,” Valence explained. “They’re not meant for my ears.”

“You were trying to pull me to my doom!”

“Maybe, maybe not.” There was a smile playing at his lips. “Either way, you’re far too interesting to drown you now. Consider yourself lucky.”

Frey raised an eyebrow at that. Valence took another half-circle around him, then wrapped his arm around Frey’s waist, pulling him against his bare chest. His free hand went back to Frey’s face, gently turning his head towards him. His fingers traced along Frey’s jawline.

“You’re touchy,” Frey whispered, as if anyone else would be able to hear them.

“When am I going to get a chance like this again?” he asked, just as quietly. His tail bumped against the back of Frey’s knees, and lifted up his legs. Valence leaned over Frey’s shoulder, his eyes fixed on the difference in their anatomies.

“You could have a million of them if you keep following the Lovelass.”

“Are you propositioning me?”

“That’s a big word for a mermaid,” Frey deflected.

“Well, perhaps I will join your little crew,” Valence said. Frey could hear him smile.

He let his fingers drag across Frey’s cheek. Frey leaned into his palm and planted a kiss there. Valence’s skin was soft against his lips, and he let out a tiny gasp.

Frey chuckled, a little sheepish. “Sorry, that was habit.”

“Noted.” His voice was a little quieter, as if he’d gotten bashful too. His grip on Frey’s waist loosened, and he floated backwards. Frey twisted in the water to see him blushing, trying to hide his face with his hair.

“Did I embarrass you?”

“No,” Valence replied, still looking away.

Frey looked up. The sky had changed from a pale pink to a light blue. He sighed. “I bet the crew is starting to wonder where I went.”

“You won’t stay?”

“I do get a choice, right?” Frey asked, a little more seriously than he meant to.

Valence looked like he was considering for a few moments. “I suppose.”

“Then I have to go.”

“You have to promise to come back,” he said, grabbing Frey’s wrist.

Frey leaned in to press their foreheads together. “I swear it.”

Valence guided Frey’s hand up to his cheek, holding it there for a moment.

“How do you say farewell?” Valence said quietly, his gray eyes glittering.

Frey smiled, and then tilted his head to catch Valence’s lips with his. Valence leaned into it immediately, instinctively, and his tail flicked before wrapping itself around Frey’s legs to anchor him against the sailor. Frey moved his other hand up, cupping Valence’s cheeks. It tasted like salt and sea but it was perfect and it was theirs.

Valence was the one to pull away. Frey opened his eyes to see Valence staring down at him with an uncharacteristically giddy smile on his face. “You’ve given me more questions.”

“I’m sure,” Frey replied.

“What was that called?”

“A kiss.”

“Why do you close your eyes during it?”

“To focus on the feeling.”

“Do humans only do it to say farewell?”

“No. They do it for all kinds of reasons.”

“Do they do it to everyone?”

“Only to the people they like.”

“Then why did you do it to me?”

Frey chuckled. “Because I really like you, songbird.”

Valence stammered, then pulled away from Frey. His tail flicked back and forth in the water, like he wasn’t quite sure how to wrap his head around all the information he was just given.

“You will come back,” he demanded. “I’ll drag you back if I have to.”

“I couldn’t just leave you forever,” Frey laughed. “I’m interested in you too.”

He nodded in understanding. “Alright, fine.”

Frey held out his hand. Valence took it, then laced his fingers with Frey’s. “Make sure to breathe out as much as you can. It’ll be easier that way.”

The advice didn’t make returning to the air any less difficult. Frey was sputtering and coughing the moment he inhaled again, his head above the surface. His lungs were burning again, readjusting to the feel of it all. Valence helped him back to land, making those little vocalizations the whole time.

“I can’t understand you anymore,” Frey lamented once he was back on the rock, still soaking wet. “That’s hardly fair.”

Valence grimaced, said something, then motioned to Frey’s wrist. The bracelet was still there.

“Don’t worry, I promise not to take it off,” he said, turning his wrist so he could see it from all angles. “And I promise to come back.”

He nodded, smiling.

“Farewell, Valence,” Frey offered.

Valence chirped back. Farewell.

[sunnonymous]

My lips taste of salt.

(Date: January 1st 2024)

We didn’t do Christmas this year. Last year I should say, as of today. We’re going through the motions of New Years, but even Mum says she’s ‘just not feeling it this year’.

It seems to me no one enjoys anything much anymore.

We stayed up till 12:07 to ring in the new year, wowed at fireworks, counted down loudly, set off party poppers.

I span with sparklers on the lawn, and my brother waved one around at my behest. Only because I’d asked him to, only because… something about the importance of ‘tradition’. Even I’m not really sure why I insisted.

When Mum offered me a second set of sparklers after the first burned down to nothing, I almost said ‘nah, would just be a waste.’ But that thought made me uneasy.

So I took them, I lit them, and I waved them around in the dark, watching them fizzle out. Mostly I just waited for them to die.

We went to the beach today. Everyone else set out early but we preferred a lie in. It was afternoon by the time we drove out and it was right as the rest of the families were fixing to leave.

Mum and I hopped right out of the car and walked off towards the water, not wasting any time. I’d made myself come, because I always did, and the trip wouldn’t be complete without going for a dip.

The walk felt endless, sand stretching on so far the sea felt a world away. The tide had already turned. We’d been warned the water was cold and I’d thought, good. Maybe it’ll shock my senses. I hope it’s biting. I hope it’ll be so cold it hurts.

It wasn’t. I splashed my feet in the shallows the way I always did as we walked on and on and on in silence, before finally making it to the shoreline. We barely slowed our strides as we entered the water.

The cutting gemlike crests of low waves winked sunlight up at us, making it hard to see exactly where to put our feet. The sand continued to rise and fall like distant rolling planes, slowly, gradually lowering us further down into the waves.

We reached a valley that seemed to have no end, and decided to stop there, in case the ground beneath our feet never rose again.

Neither of us really wanted to dip the whole way in, but what would be the point of coming all this way if we didn’t? So we agreed we’d sink down to our necks on three. We counted down together, then sunk like stones.

Both of us gasped and cried out, I got a splash of seawater in my mouth and spat it out, tasting salt. It was truly freezing, for a minute, then it was fine.

I felt distinctly like I was supposed to be feeling something.

My eyes roamed over the flat horizon, across to the land masses either side of the beach, back to the dry dusty bank where the cars had become so small they looked like my brother’s toys.

It was clear the little doll people in the distance were going through the motions of rounding up the kids to leave. I closed my eyes and tried to feel something, before it was too late. I wasn’t sure what.

I thought about how I feel this way a lot these days.

I was buffered around casually by the waves, the outward tide tugging me off to sea, but it wasn’t that hard to resist.

I let my hands dance under the water, trying to admire the sight, the wavy reflections, the warped light across my skin. Currents pushed against me, till I got tired and stopped.

One of the cars on the beach drove off. People were starting to go home. It had been minutes at most, but Mum and I decided we should start to head back.

Facing toward land, the wind whipping out to sea was deafening. It whistled and squealed and pulled the water to flow out in its wake. Waves started splashing up in our faces, so for a time we turned around and pushed our way backwards towards the shore.

We tried to stay in up to our necks for as long as possible, now the cold was bearable. Every time a sandbank rose us up out of a watery valley became an obstacle. We had to keep turning around to make sure we were still headed on course, and eventually braving the wind became the easier option.

I overtook Mum, squatting as low as I could in a precarious balancing act between moving smoothly forward and keeping choppy waves from splashing up over me. My lips tasted of salt.

Another looming sandbank near the shallows brought me to my knees. Submerged to my chin, I spread my arms open in benediction, the tide tugged at my hands like it was trying to take hold. Dragging me back, back, back away from the world.

I stumbled forward on my knees still, wind screaming in my ears. It was so loud I could hardly make out my mother’s voice.

When the shallows rose even more, I began to crawl on my arms, spitting out the seawater that coated my chin.

I tried to stay in till the end, until my belly scraped the bottom and I was beached. Stuck there between land and sea, I rolled over and waited for my mum to catch up. Once she did, we joked about something or other, and regretfully rose to our feet, leaving the lapping depths behind.

On we walked, I pulled ahead, and as the peak of this sandbank miraculously tapered off into a deeper section I came across a spontaneously warmer patch of water.

I sat immediately, stopping right there and sinking like a stone into the turquoise waves.

I gave myself no count down this time.

There was no way of telling when the last valley would come. When I would have my last chance to sit in the chill and have the ocean wash me clean.

Mum caught up. I stood, and no chance to sit ever came again.

Dad drove the car out to meet us, to save us the walk back. I was disappointed. I’d thought maybe I would dip my feet in the shallows on the endless walk back. Maybe I’d even like it. Now I would never know.

Mum and I agree we’re glad we came, and glad we’d done it. I didn’t want to think about how this was just because the alternative was not having done it, rather than because of the experience itself.

It was ‘brisk but refreshing,’ we told anyone who asked. Which was true, I suppose, even though it didn’t altogether feel like it meant much. Things rarely do.

My brother and I head back home tomorrow, a day before everyone else leaves. We arrived a day late, too, just like we did with the beach. This whole trip has been a default dip in the water.

I’m glad I did it, but only because the alternative was not having done it.

Ready to leave just as soon as you acclimate to the frigid waters, even if it was never truly comfortable; you’d just gotten used to the discomfort.

It’s tradition, so it doesn’t have to make sense, just focus on the taste of salt on your tongue.

It’s meant to feel a certain way, but for some reason it just doesn’t anymore.

I feel like I’m dropping like a stone into this new year, with the same reluctant, apprehensive countdown. I know it’s going to be cold. I know I’m going to get used to it. I know I’m going to be meant to feel something.

[thequarries]

3

chapter 2

Flynn closed his textbook as the last period bell rang. Freedom at last. He let out a deep breath. Now he had the weekend all to himself. And the rest of the Quarries.

Winnie picked up her books, hurrying to Flynn’s desk. “Ready to go?”

Flynn nodded. “Yeah. Oliver better not want to leave early again.”

“Oh, Oliver isn’t here today.”

“Really? I thought I saw him–”

“Nope. It’s weird. He didn’t even tell Gordie.”

“He’s probably just sick.”

“I don’t think so,” Winnie thought aloud. “But you know who is sick? Worried sick? Gordie.”

Flynn sighed. “As to be expected.”

“So, we did promise him we’ll stop by Ollie’s house on the way to the Base since it’s on the way.”

“Sure,” Flynn got up from his desk, shoving his textbook into his backpack. “We should probably start going now then.”

The rest of the Quarries situated themselves. As per usual, Robbie, Winnie and Flynn did most of the talking. However, Murphy and Gordie stayed silent. Usually they would chime in, add a joking comment, or at least laugh. But Flynn knew they were anxious.

“I bet Ollie’s fine,” Flynn turned to Gordie and Murphy, walking backwards. “He probably chose to stay home today. He’s been doing that a lot.”

Flynn could see as Gordie almost visibly bit his tongue. 

“He’ll be with us in no time. We’re only two minutes from his house.”

“I understand Gordie being worried,” Winnie added. “I don’t think he can spend more than twelve hours without talking to Oliver. And even then he has to daydream about him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gordie jokingly asked.

“You know what it means.”

Flynn watched as Gordie covered his face with his hand, turning visibly red. “Oooh.”

Robbie laughed. “Gordie and Ollie, sitting in a tree, k–”

“Shut up!”

“Here’s his house,” Flynn turned to face towards the estate. “Gordie, try not to freak out, but Oliver is within range.”

Flynn could almost hear Gordie’s eyeroll. 

Everyone cleared a path across the porch for Gordie to ring the doorbell. Flynn watched as he nervously hit it. He’s shaking, Flynn noticed. Oh my god. I hope he’s okay. I didn’t realize it was like that.

Seconds later, Mrs. Mehlberg answered the door. “Ollie?”

“Yeah, is he home?” Winnie asked.

“Oh Winnie! How lovely to see you.”

Mrs. Mehlberg always has her favorites.

“I knew he was with you guys. I’ve been worried all day.”

“Oh, I mean, we haven’t seen Oliver since yesterday.”

“What?” She laughed. “He’s not…?”

Flynn’s stomach dropped.

The Quarries had never seen Gordie cry. They had seen him shed a tear at a movie or when the Quarries did something for him or when he was high, but never sobbing. Until today.

Flynn couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. Hours ago he had thought that Oliver was sick at home, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. In order to distract himself, he had to resort to full damage control mode with the rest of the Quarries.

Murphy had an arm around Gordie as he silently wept on the Mehlbergs’ couch. Mrs. Mehlberg had brought over sodas and water for everyone as she also silently cried.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be like this in front of you guys,” Mrs. Mehlberg wiped a tear. “I just. What happened last night?”

Through stifled breaths, Gordie finally began to speak. “I was the last one with him last night, he–he walked me to my house and said he’d be fine walking home. I offered to let him stay over but he said no–I should have insisted–”

“Shh,” Winnie handed Gordie a tissue. “It’s not your fault.”

“We’re the ones that should be sorry,” Robbie rubbed Gordie’s back. “We shouldn’t have been so judgy about you guys wanting to leave.”

“What time did Oliver leave to walk to his house?”

“I think… around… seven twenty?”

Mrs. Mehlberg stood up, putting out her cigarette on the ashtray. “I'm going to–I’m going to go to the police office.”

“Of course,” Winnie said sympathetically.

“Please stay put here,” she said, running to the kitchen to grab her bag. “I’ll drive you all home later. Don’t leave the house.”

The Quarries nodded.

The panicked and hurried mom hastily exited the house, driving out of the driveway as soon as she started the car.

“We can’t just sit here,” Flynn said. “I know she said to stay put, but we have to do something.”

Winnie stood up. “We should at least retrace his steps from Gordie’s house. That won't take too long, right?”

Murphy looked up from comforting Gordie, slowly letting their hand fall down their back. “Guys, I don’t think that’s the best idea–”

“We can’t just leave him out there,” Gordie said, quietly. “We need to look for him.”

Robbie looked concerned. “But–”

“I’m going to look for him.” Gordie stood up, walking to get his backpack while wiping tears on his sleeve. “You guys can come if you want.”

— — —

The group nervously walked the asphalt retracing Oliver’s steps from the previous night. They had walked almost the entire distance and nothing had showed up.

Flynn was usually known for being a little scatterbrained, but now for some inexplicable reason he was dead focused on looking for any sign of Oliver. He was lagging behind most of the other Quarries, searching the sides of the street for any traces of the nerdy boy, behind nearby trees, anywhere he thought Oliver might have gone.

Nothing. They had found fucking nothing.

Gordie remained silent. Winnie bit her lip. Robbie fiddled with his shirt. But Flynn stayed focused.

“Do you think he took a shortcut through the woods?” He suggested, remembering the couple of times Oliver had led him through the thick trees into his backyard. 

The group took a harsh left into the forest, checking the ground for foot prints.

As Flynn scanned the floor, he saw plenty of leaves, sticks, mud, and…

“Guys! I got something!”

The rest of the group ran and huddled around Flynn. “Footprints. They look like his shoes, right?”

Hope. A beacon of light.

“Yes! Yes, I’m sure of it.”

The footsteps looked jagged. Oliver was obviously in a hurry.

“Guys,” Murphy stated. “I think we should search the surrounding area. Maybe Oliver threw something, or, I don’t know. We need to keep looking.”

Flynn felt like he was in the midst of a Hardy Boys novel. Something about Oliver’s disappearance felt so cartoonish, so surreal. It was like the world was slowly becoming more childish as time passed on. Oliver’s disappearance didn’t even feel real.

He pulled out his flashlight from his backpack to help him survey the ground. Nothing was coming up. Even the footprints stopped being visible a couple feet ahead. Nothing.

Wake up, Flynn thought. This is probably all just a dream. This isn’t reality. I’m going to wake up in a few moments and everything will be normal.

Then the fear started to set in.

People were going missing. Gordie had seen something in the woods last night. A curfew had been set. Something was seriously wrong here. Something was lurking in the shadows. Something that hadn’t been present since 1983.

If Oliver was gone, who was next? He could be dead right now. Oliver probably thought he was dreaming, too. He probably thought that he would wake up in his bed after running in the woods from god knows what. But instead he had gone missing. If only he took life more seriously.

Something flickered from Flynn’s flashlight. Ollie’s glasses.

“Guys!” Flynn yelled.

The glasses were broken, one of the arms bent and the lenses were cracked. They looked exactly how they did when Troy Walsh stepped on Oliver’s old pair in his freshman year.

The other Quarries hurried around Flynn, sharply stopping their breathing when they saw the ruined glasses.

Silently, Flynn walked forward, studying the ground. Eyes catching the leaves. “Uhm…”

The group followed like a herd of sheep. Looking at the ground.

Drops of brownish-red splashes dotted the forest’s floor.

Blood.

chapter 4

[koushisun]

Frozen Promises

Kaeya Alberich x GN!Reader (Platonic), no pronouns used for reader

WC: 6180—Angst with a Happy Ending

In which Kaeya made a promise he didn't keep.

In Khaenri’ah, they worship no god.

There is no watchful gaze cast upon them. No loving deity, no wrathful and vindictive god, no indifferent yet almighty being.

The people of Khaenri’ah live in a lonely exile, their anguished cries reaching the ears of no one but each other. Most dare not dream of redemption, of salvation from their dark and dreary corner of the world.

In Khaenri’ah, they dream only of dreaming.

A few, though, let their thoughts wander to better times and places. Better circumstances for themselves and those they love.

“Where would you go,” you whisper, “if you could go anywhere?”

Kaeya hums from his spot next to you. The two of you are lying on the hard ground outside, staring up at the inky black sky. There are no stars to light up the sky—only a few shining gems embedded in the ceiling above—and though you both know that there is an end to the vast firmament above you, you cannot help but stare at it in wonder. Being underground never was enough to suffocate your dreams.

After a moment, Kaeya turns to you and gives you a big grin. “If I could go anywhere… I would take you anywhere you wanted to go!”

Your chuckle only makes him smile more. “Well,” you say, “I guess we’re just going everywhere, then! Because I want to see it all.”

-

“Where are you going?”

The Cavalry Captain is snapped out of his thoughts by the stern voice of the Acting Grand Master. Just his luck to be noticed by the one person he was trying to avoid.

He spins around, giving Jean an innocent smile. “Why, I was just going out for a bit of air. Archon only knows what would happen if I stayed locked in my office all day.”

She levels him with an unimpressed stare, but Kaeya holds his ground. She breaks first, heaving a sigh and waving him off. “Fine. As long as you get your paperwork turned in by the end of the week, I don't mind.”

“You know I always do,” he chuckles. “Would you like anything while I’m out? Perhaps a treat from Good Hunter?”

Jean smiles but shakes her head. “No, no, that’s alright. If anything, I could also use a bit of a break.”

“Well, then, why don’t you join me? I had planned on heading to the tree at Windrise.” The offer is a genuine one, concern for the Acting Grand Master shining through unintentionally.

Kaeya knows how hard Jean works—her tireless efforts are one of the few things that keep Mondstadt running like a well-oiled machine. But, she hardly ever takes a break, so he isn’t holding out too much hope that she will take up his offer. Even more so now, with Lumine being a day or two’s journey away in Liyue. Jean has had a lot on her plate, even with the various captains taking some of her workload.

He is pleasantly surprised, though, by the falter in her resolve. “I… well, I suppose I could go out for a while. Just today, though, and not for long; I wouldn’t want to get too far behind on my work.”

“Of course.”

And so they go to Windrise.

The air is clear there, crisper than in the city proper. The various shops and houses tend to muddy the air a bit, at least when it’s not particularly windy out. Kaeya appreciates the breeze's almost sweet taste in Windrise, with the gentle swish of the leaves brushing away the anxieties that perpetually haunt his mind. He can’t help but wonder how long it will last.

The two of them stand silent in front of the grand tree until Kaeya can find it in him to speak up.

“Can I ask you a question, Master Jean?”

“How many times have I told you to just call me Jean when we’re not at work?”

“Very well then, Jean,” Kaeya laughs, “may I ask you a question?”

She nods, motioning for him to continue.

Kaeya lets his gaze drift out to the mountains in the distance. “Do you have any regrets?”

“Do you?” She asks quietly. The question is not meant to be harsh, yet Kaeya has to fight the urge to flinch at the words hanging heavy in the air.

The breeze at Windrise has never felt so suffocating.

Jean takes a few steps towards the statue of Barbatos, sitting at the base of the grand sculpture. “I don’t mean to pry,” she amends, patting the empty space next to her. “But I imagine if you’re asking me, you have a few of your own.” Her blonde hair floats in the wind, the light angling off of it in a way that makes her glow. The dark sadness in her eyes seems out of place.

“Of course, I have regrets, Kaeya. I don't believe a single person out there can truly say they are without any regrets. In fact, I think they make us… not stronger perhaps, but wiser. As long as I can keep moving and trying to be better… well, what else is there to do?”

“I see.” He avoids her burning gaze by watching a crystalfly glide on the wind, disappearing into the lush branches above. “Thank you.”

“If I may ask—” Jean presses on even as Kaeya’s expression quickly becomes guarded— “what is it that you regret?”

Kaeya’s eyes turn icy. An open book Kaeya is not, and one might think that he never will be. “Forgive my rudeness, but the details are not something that concern you.”

Jean smiles a bit and shakes her head. “Nothing to forgive. I shouldn’t have pressed.” Jean breathes deeply as she takes one last look at the tree she loves so much. “I believe I should be getting back to work. Thank you, Kaeya, for inviting me out. May Barbatos guide you.”

He can’t help but feel himself shrink a bit.

“And Kaeya,” Jean turns to look at him as she leaves, “for what it’s worth, I hope things work out for you. Really.” The words are warm, just as Jean always is. Always looking out for her friends.

He feels sick.

He doesn’t say anything.

-

“Make sure you keep us a secret, ok?”

Kaeya’s head tilts in confusion. “What do you mean?”

You wring your hands, too much nervous energy buzzing inside of you. “I mean everything. Khaenri’ah, me, all of it. I heard our parents talking and… they said people don’t like us. I don’t want you to get hurt, Kaeya.” You chew on your lip, almost like the words hurt to get out. “So don’t tell anyone, ok?”

“But… I can’t keep you a secret! You’re my best friend!” Kaeya nearly yells at you, and you hunch in on yourself a bit. His voice softens in response. “I can’t just pretend you don’t exist. I’m gonna miss you.”

“I’m gonna miss you too, Kaeya.” You whisper. His father tells the two of you it’s time to say goodbye. The coldness of his voice only makes you that much more desperate to keep Kaeya here with you, but you know that it’s a hopeless endeavor. So you settle for asking, “Will I ever see you again?” Your voice trembles, terrified of what you might hear in return.

Kaeya’s blue eyes burn with determination. “Of course you will! I’m not just leaving you here! I’ll come back for you. I promise.” His pinky interlocks with yours, and as such, your fates are sealed.

“You better.”

Tears blur the last glimpse you ever get of your best friend.

-

The last ten or so years have been quiet.

So quiet, in fact, that you can hardly recall what your best friend sounds like. His absence haunts you, as does the promise you two made all that time ago. The ghost of his smile, his laugh, his everything plagues the back of your mind, filling you with a maddening need to be anywhere but the desolate hell-hole you call home.

You think of the young boy who left you behind and wonder if he ever actually planned on coming back for you. You can’t help but wonder if maybe his promise, like the jewels embedded in the rock above your head, was nothing more than a shimmering illusion of hope.

With a shake of your head, you push those thoughts from your mind. You can’t afford to let go of him, not after all this time.

But maybe it’s time to take matters into your own hands. After all, Khaenri’ah has no god for you to call upon for answers or assistance. Which means the only person you have left to rely on is yourself.

And so you pack your things, leaving behind the only home you’ve ever known.

You don’t look back.

-

The way out of Khaenri’ah is dark and gloomy. Not at all like the cavernous space you grew up in, the walls of the tunnel creep ever closer to you, and you have to fight to make it to the soft light emanating from the end of the trail. The glow is different from the lights underground. The gems in the cave twinkle but provide no substantial light; you all rely mostly on torches to light your everyday life. Your eyes burn at the sunlight greeting your retinas for the first time, and you bring an arm up to shield your face.

“Oh wow,” you whisper. Slowly bringing your arm down, you are mesmerized by the hues that seem to color every inch of the world in front of you. The blues, the greens, it all seems so… bright. Suddenly the idea of returning home feels almost impossible.

(You wonder if maybe this is why Kaeya never came back for you.)

Shaking yourself out of your daze, you press forward in your search for your old friend.

After traveling for a few days, you stumble across what seems to be a statue of some sort of deity. An archon, if you had to guess, though you had never actually heard much about the Seven.

The elders of Khaenri’ah didn’t often talk about the Seven Archons, but what they did say was bitter and cold. They blamed the Seven for Khaenri’ah’s downfall and its current bleak state. You weren’t quite sure you agreed with that assessment, but could never find it in yourself to speak out against the popular view. Not that it mattered much now, though.

Based on the little you know of the current Seven, you’re pretty sure that this has to be a statue for the Geo Archon.

“It’s a beautiful statue, isn’t it?” A voice comes from behind you, causing you to jump with a start. You clutch your bag tightly and step away from the person, who seems to be a short blonde woman with a little… floating friend?

“Woah, hey,” she tries again, holding up her hands to placate you. “I didn’t mean to scare you! My name is Lumine, and this is Paimon.” The little fairy smiles brightly as she waves at you.

You give them your name a bit hesitantly. She looked nice enough, but you didn’t think it would be safe to let your guard down quite yet. “Um, about the statue,” you divert the topic back to the Archon looming over you, “it’s the Geo Archon, right?”

The woman’s floating companion answers for her this time, “Yup! Here in Liyue, most people call him Rex Lapis, but you might know him better as Morax!”

You nod in thanks, and Lumine returns your question with one of her own. “So, where are you from?” She raises her hands again when she sees the skeptical look on your face. “If it makes you feel better, I’m not from Liyue either. Actually, I’m not from anywhere near here at all.”

“How do you know I’m not from Liyue?” You’re sure you must seem highly suspicious but you simply can’t bring yourself to be particularly friendly at the moment.

Lumine glances at Paimon briefly before shrugging. “It’s your clothes.”

“My… clothes?”

“Your clothes are… well, they don’t look like they’re from Liyue, but also not completely out of place. Almost like, they could fit in anywhere, but also nowhere…. Sorry! That probably doesn’t make any sense,” she says, an embarrassed flush covering her face.

“No… It’s, um, fine, really.” You understand her logic, and to be honest, it’s not that far off from the truth. Your clothes were plain— understated and unassuming. But there was a unique sort of flair to them, little details that made them different from the rest of Teyvat’s fashion. You supposed that was to be expected. “So, where are you from, then? You said earlier that you’re not from Liyue either.”

Lumine shuffles awkwardly for a moment before coming to some sort of silent agreement with Paimon. “I’m a traveler; I don’t really belong to one nation or another. So far, I’ve been to Mondstadt, Liyue, and Inazuma. There’s… been a lot going on recently.”

“Oh, like what?”

Surprise grows on her face but Lumine quickly tamps it down. You instantly know you made a huge blunder, but resolve yourself nonetheless. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard,” she says, before continuing, “I’d be happy to tell you all about it! But, this might not be the best spot….”

Paimon speaks up, and you startle a bit, nearly forgetting the fairy was there. (Or did she disappear for a moment and only just now reappear? It’s hard to say.) “Why don’t we head back to Liyue Harbor! We can show you around, and you can even try some of the local food! Oh, Paimon loves Wanmin Restaurant! What do you say?”

You can't help but smile a bit at Paimon’s obvious love for food; her eagerness is contagious, and despite your reservations, you accompany the pair to Liyue Harbor.

-

Liyue Harbor is nothing like you expected. The golds and reds scream for your attention, and the smell of cooking food invades your senses. You can smell the spices a mile away, the strong aroma trying its best to lead you to the various stalls. Music floats through the air, from where exactly you can’t tell, and you nearly stop in your tracks just to hear more of it.

Everything is just so different from Khaenri’ah. You like it.

Paimon earnestly rushes you and Lumine over to Wanmin Restaurant, and the three of you quickly order your food, eager to eat the steaming dishes. The chef on duty, who you learn is named Xiangling, gladly serves you up a variety of traditional Liyuean dishes—with her signature flair, of course. Lumine leads you to a more secluded seating area near the building, not too far from the main plaza but quiet enough to chat comfortably.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you say. “I really appreciate it.”

Lumine waves off your thanks, not unkindly, and smiles. “It’s no problem! Besides, you seem pretty nice, and I’d like to get to know you better.”

The two of you eat quietly, only the sound of Paimon’s chatter filling the silence. The food is hot, both in temperature and spice. You can feel it warm you from the inside out.

“Xiangling is a master at spice, isn’t she?” Paimon says cheerfully. You nod in agreement, and you’re sure your excitement shows on your face. It wasn’t often you got to eat anything that wasn’t potatoes or some other starch or root vegetable, so you’re certainly savoring the moment.

“This is probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten!” You grin at the two companions before returning to your meal. “Though, I was a little scared to try the slime candies she offered us.” You shiver a bit at the memory of the various candies she had shoved in your hand, most of which you would guess to be inedible. You had ended up shoving them in your pocket for later. Though, you would probably end up tossing them to some birds or something. Archons bless whatever animal was brave enough to eat them.

“Don’t mind Xiangling’s… ah, experiments. She’s a great chef, but most people know to stick with her more tried-and-true dishes,” Lumine laughs.

Once the food is finished and plates returned to the restaurant, the three of you set off towards the harbor. As the sun begins to set, you marvel at the orange blaze of the sky above you. Lanterns flicker around you, and their soft glow reminds you of the torches your people used to light their homes. Fire was not as commonplace in Khaenri’ah as it seemed to be here, where the light surrounds you on all sides. It makes you feel both safe and incredibly out of place.

After living so many years in the dark, you aren’t quite sure what it means to live in the light.

“Hey, Lumine?” You catch her attention at the top of the grand staircase at Feiyun Slope. Lumine and Paimon are a few steps below you, but you still hold her gaze as you ask, “Could I ask you for a favor?” She tilts her head in a silent cue to keep talking. “I was wondering—since you’ve traveled so many places—if you might be able to help me find someone. I… I’m looking for an old friend. Someone I haven’t seen for many years at this point. And I know it’s presumptuous of me to assume that you might know him or have even heard of him during your travels, but I thought it might be worth asking.”

Something in Lumine’s face softens at the mention of your search, and the genuine distress on your face makes her response come with no hesitation.

“Of course, I’ll help you. I can’t make any promises, but I know what it’s like to look for someone you hold dear. I probably understand it better than anyone.” Her resulting chuckle sounds bitter, but you can’t blame her. “So, tell me whatever you can about him, and I’ll see what I can do!”

You thank her as you continue your journey, telling her whatever you can about Kaeya. Recognition begins to flicker in her eyes the longer you talk about him. It spurs you on in your descriptions, even slipping in a few childhood memories in your excitement.

“There was this one time we were pestering a really tall blonde guy who would come visit the village occasionally, and he was getting really annoyed with us. Pretty sure we tried to snag his mask at one point, but obviously, it didn’t work since he was like, at least a foot and a half taller than us!” Your laughter rings out, and Lumine can’t help but smile at your joyful expression. “Oh man, and then Kaeya tried to climb him, but he almost pulled the poor man’s pants down! I’ve never seen the two of them look more mortified!”

You don’t notice Lumine is no longer at your side until you go to start another story and see that you’re alone. Turning around, you see her standing there with an excited smile. You quickly calm your nerves and take a few quick steps to rejoin her.

“Did you just say your friend’s name is Kaeya?” Paimon beats Lumine to the punch, but she doesn’t look at all upset about the interruption from her friend.

“Oh,” you pause, only slightly unsettled by their eagerness. “Yes, I did. Did I not mention that before?”

“Nope!” Paimon continues. “But it’s a good thing you did! Because now we know exactly who you’re talking about!”

“You do?”

Lumine grins and slings an arm around you. “Looks like we’re going to Mondstadt next!”

-

Leaves crunch under your feet as you approach the gates of Mondstadt. The journey was faster than you expected, though, after your initial trip out of Khaenri’ah, you think most others would feel easy. Lumine and Paimon stand a bit ahead of you, having asked them for a bit of space to think. They kindly obliged, Lumine nudging the small fairy away from you and the obvious dark cloud hanging over your head.

Your bare forearms press into the gritty stone of Mondstadt’s bridge. The rough texture is the only thing keeping you grounded as your thoughts threaten to pull you back to the dark confining walls of Khaenri’ah. The morning sunlight bouncing off the water is not enough to chase away your dark thoughts, but it certainly helps.

While you’re ecstatic that you managed to find someone who knows Kaeya, you feel yourself growing nervous at the thought of meeting him again. You still don’t understand entirely why he never returned. You had never expected him to return for good, or even very soon, but you had always hoped that he would show up one day and take you away with him. Those hopes were obviously in vain.

You can’t even be sure he’ll recognize you. Will you recognize him? Or will ten years of separation render you nothing more than strangers who share a homeland?

“Hey, Lumine?” You call out.

She turns to you, responding, “Everything ok?”

“How well do you know Kaeya?”

Lumine pauses for a moment, thinking. “I’d say I know him pretty well at this point. Why do you ask?”

The cool breeze coming off the lake rustles through your clothes, and you shiver a bit. “Will he want to see me? I can’t say I know him very well anymore, and I don’t know what I even want his reaction to be when he sees me.”

“What exactly happened between you two?” The question is a simple one, yet you still feel at a loss for words. The answer lodges in your throat, burning like a lump of hot coal.

“I don't know,” you finally manage to whisper. “He made a promise. But that doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

Lumine’s eyebrows furrow in concern, Paimon looking nervous as well. “What did he promise you?” The pure grief in your eyes startles Lumine. You look… broken.

“He promised he would come back.”

Two pairs of warm arms envelope you as your tears fall and mix with the freshwater of Cider Lake below you.

-

“Hello, dear brother.” Kaeya saunters into the tavern, an unsurprising sight for Diluc at this hour.

“Kaeya.” Diluc gives his brother a short nod, sliding him a Death After Noon.

If you ask anyone in Mondstadt, Diluc and Kaeya are like cats and dogs. Never getting along, never able to work together. And they would be right. Mostly. For, despite all their misgivings about each other, they are still brothers. And even the most vicious of words would not deter them from keeping a close eye on the other.

Which is precisely why, when Lumine shows up in his tavern with a mysterious “friend,” Diluc does not immediately direct them to where his brother sits on the second floor.

“Diluc!” Lumine waves as the three of you walk into Angel’s Share, and you take in the lively atmosphere. People are drinking and singing, presumably having just gotten off of work and letting off some steam. A bard performs in the middle of the room, riling up the crowd with every strum of his lyre. The energy is almost magical. You manage to pull your attention away from the scene and introduce yourself to Diluc. At the mention of your name, his grip on your hand tightens slightly before quickly retracting back to his side.

“It’s you.”

You look at Lumine, but she has no answers. “Um, I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I know what you mean.” Your brows furrow slightly in confusion when he doesn’t immediately answer.

“Lumine,” Diluc turns to your new friend, “would it be alright if I borrowed them for a moment? Feel free to mix a drink while you wait; it’ll be on the house.”

She simply nods, and you hesitantly follow Diluc out the back door of the tavern. He pulls out a chair for you at a small table on the side of the building. You sit across from him, patiently waiting for him to say something.

“May I ask why you wanted to speak with me?”

“You’re from Khaenri’ah.” His words are not accusatory more than they are a simple statement. His face gives away nothing, but you don’t feel all that threatened by him.

“And so what if I am? Will that be an issue?”

Diluc crosses his arms, studying your face. “It’ll only be an issue if you make it one.” After a moment, his face softens. “I know you and Kaeya were friends. He talked about you often when we were kids.”

You curse your friend under your breath. “He promised me he wouldn’t. It was foolish of him to go telling people things like that.”

“You don’t need to worry about his ability to keep a secret. He seems to have a real knack for it.” He sighs. “Besides, my brother isn’t really known for his openness. I highly doubt he’s mentioned you to anyone else.”

“Wait a second,” you sit up straight in your chair, interest piqued. “What do you mean by ‘brother’? Kaeya doesn’t have any siblings, and if he did, they certainly wouldn’t look like you.”

Diluc smiles. “I don’t imagine you know much about his life in Mondstadt?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and for a moment, it reminds you of Kaeya.

“No, I don't.” You fail to keep your bitterness contained at the reminder that you no longer know your best friend. Your only friend.

“Forgive me; I don’t mean to offend,” Diluc says. “Let me catch you up to speed.”

You listen to his story quietly, unable to picture everything but intrigued nonetheless. You laugh at their childhood antics, and you weep silently at the death of their father— a kind man who seems to have treated your friend better than his birth father ever had. Anger bubbles up in your heart at the tale of Kaeya and Diluc’s falling out. You can’t help the glare that you give Diluc, though you know that you won’t be able to stay angry at him. He clearly cares for Kaeya, his brother holding space in his heart despite everything that has happened.

Diluc finishes his story with a sigh. “Kaeya should be upstairs. But if he doesn’t want to talk to you, then I ask that you leave him be.”

“Sure.”

-

It’s obvious Kaeya doesn’t recognize you. Or, if he does, he’s doing a damn good job at hiding it. His one icy blue eye is tracking you as you make your way across the upper floor of the tavern. Your old friend sits in a shadowy corner, out of view from the rowdy patrons below and away from the more sullen patrons lingering nearby.

He makes no objection when you motion to the chair opposite him, and he sends you a smile that is both unnerving and charming all at once. It feels fake. It feels so unlike the bright kid you once knew—the kid who would run around the caverns with you, playing silly pranks on the elders and sneaking a little extra food to share at night. And you know that kid is in there somewhere; the spark you remember so well is surely still present. Maybe it’s hiding behind his eyepatch, or maybe it's under the layers of leather, feathers, and fur that he adorns himself with, but you know it’s in there somewhere.

It has to be.

“First time in a place like this?” His question catches you off guard, your attention snapping away from his flashy outfit and up to his face. You situate yourself in the worn wooden chair, the creaking beneath you just a bit concerning.

You’re not sure what to say to Kaeya now that he’s right in front of you, so you settle for a half-assed, “Yes, it is. My first time in Mondstadt, actually.” The ensuing silence is uncomfortable, but you imagine Kaeya isn’t put off by it in the least.

Minutes pass. Nothing is said; you simply watch him, and he watches you in return. Your drink only does so much to help you pass the time. You would give anything to know what he’s thinking right now, but you can’t bring yourself to ask for some reason. You don’t even know where to begin.

“What do you know about Khaenri’ah?” You’re surprised when the silence is broken before realizing you were the one who spoke. You don’t know why that question, in particular, escaped you, but it’s too late to take it back now.

“Khaenri'ah, huh? Now that’s a question I don’t hear often.” Kaeya raises an eyebrow at you, his icy blue eye pinning you in place. “The legacy of Khaenri'ah is long gone; the sinners are all that's left, and they're not worth mentioning.”

Your heart drops, and you can’t help the disappointment and betrayal that shows on your face.

“I see.” Even with the confusion and sadness gnawing at the back of your mind, you feel a bitter laugh rip its way out of your throat. “I suppose I should plan on visiting the Cathedral, then.”

“Why?”

Mouth set in a tight line, you reply, “I’m a sinner; you said so yourself.”

Liquor runs over the table, dripping onto the floor. The unsealed wood turns dark under your fingers, and you quickly grasp the fallen ceramic cup, placing it gently on the now-stained table.

Kaeya sits still. His breathing is even but light; you might not even notice it were you not watching him so closely all this time. “You,” he starts, his voice a raspy whisper, “you’re not supposed to be here.”

And doesn’t that just break your heart.

“I can go if you’d like.”

“No!” He grabs your wrist as you start to stand, pulling you ungracefully back down into your chair. His hand shakes, though his grip is iron-clad. He runs colder than you remember.

Seems like a lot has changed since you last saw him.

-

Kaeya is not often at a loss for words. He’s known in Mondstadt for his sweet-talk— honey-coated words carefully picked and crafted into flattery that would lower anyone’s guard. The Cavalry Captain can talk his way out of any situation, even if he would prefer to just fight it out at times.

So it’s an unsettling feeling when everything he wants to say—everything he needs to say— feels wrong.

“I’m sorry, I just”—he reluctantly lets go of your wrist—“I didn’t mean it like that.” He stares at you, the silence growing heavy. He realizes you must be waiting for him to say something, so he grasps for words to give you, inadequate as they may be. “I’m happy to see you again,” he says.

Your brows furrow slightly, and he worries you don't believe him. “I am… happy to see you too, Kaeya.” You look away from him. “Mondstadt is a beautiful place. I can see why you would want to stay here.”

And he knows what you’re really saying. He hears the unspoken question masked by your friendly words. He knows what you’re asking him because he’s asked himself the same question a million times over the past few years.

Why didn’t he ever go back for you?

“It is.” He says lamely. “I really do love it here.” He moves, and his clothes clink quietly, the metal accessories glinting softly in the dim tavern light. Sounds of music float up from below, Venti somehow managing to keep the crowd’s attention all this time. He’s sure the bard has probably had one too many drinks tonight. Kaeya looks at his spilled drink in dismay; he could really use some liquid courage right about now.

“Do you really think of us that way, Kaeya?”

Your question catches him off guard. “What? Think of you how?”

A dry chuckle escapes your lips. “Of course, you already forgot.” He can see you gripping the sleeves of your coat, wrinkling the worn fabric. “As sinners. You said we were sinners and not even worth mentioning. Is that really how you think of us?”

His silence is more telling than anything he could’ve said.

“I see.” He reaches for your hand again, but you pull it out of reach. “No, it’s— it’s fine, Kaeya. I get it. Really, I do. You got out. You were the one who got to leave, and even with all the shit you’ve had to go through out here, it’s still better than whatever was waiting for you back home.” You shrink into yourself as you continue, “I know we weren’t enough—that I wasn’t enough—to make you want to come back, and that’s fine. I’m not—I’m not mad, Kaeya. I promise you that much. But I just need to know”—your voice breaks, and with a start, he realizes you’re crying—“if you even missed me.”

Your words sting as if he’s been slapped, and his stomach churns in a burning sickness. “Of course I missed you! How could I not?” His chest feels tight. “I can’t ever go back home. I can’t do it. Mondstadt is where I belong now. I have a life here; I have family. I couldn’t just leave all of that, and besides,” he sighs, “I had a mission. You know that. And I don’t care about it anymore; believe me, I don’t. But after a while, it just felt… wrong to go back. Do I even have a place there anymore?”

You cut him off with a slam of your fist. “Of course, you have a place there! You always did! And even if you didn’t want to stay, you know I would’ve left with you! So I just don’t understand why you broke your promise!”

“I’m sorry.”

“No.” You take a breath. “No, it’s okay. I’m just a little confused, I guess. I don’t really know how I’m feeling right now.” You grab Kaeya’s empty cup just to have something to fiddle with. “It’s been ten years, Kaeya. And I still remember you as that happy kid who used to run around with me, just being stupid and having fun. Neither of us stayed the same, and that’s not a bad thing. That’s just life. But I missed you. I still miss you.”

This time, when he reaches for your hand, you let him take it. He holds it gently as if you might shatter and disappear if he’s not careful. “I don’t have a lot of regrets.”

“Kaeya, it’s—” You try to interrupt, but he presses on.

“No, listen to me.” He holds your gaze as he continues, “I don’t have a lot of regrets, but I will always regret not going back for you. You hear me? I never once forgot about you. And even if I was too much of a coward to face you again, I am happy you found me. You did what I never had the guts to do.”

He feels your warm tears drip onto his hand. He hopes that they can wash away the mistakes of his past.

“I just missed you so much,” you cry, pulling his hand closer to you. He stands, quietly reassuring you he isn’t going anywhere. Kaeya crosses to the other side of the table and pulls you into his arms. Neither of you care about the lingering looks the other tavern goers are giving you; none of them matter in this moment.

The only thing that really matters is right in front of him. And this time, he’s not leaving you behind.

-

One Week Later

“So, you’re staying in Mondstadt?” Lumine asks. It’s a sunny day; the breeze is steady, and the clean air is refreshing.

You smile brightly, a new coat on your shoulders, courtesy of one Cavalry Captain. “I am. Kaeya and I have a lot to catch up on, after all!” You seem a little sad when you say, “Our relationship isn’t the same as it used to be. It’s been a long time, and as much as I’d like to pretend that nothing has changed, that’s simply not true.”

Paimon floats up to you. “That’s not a bad thing, though, is it?” Her eyes shine with worry, and you pat her head to comfort her.

“Don’t you worry about us. We’re both working through things, but we’re doing it together. I know it’s not going to be easy, but I’m ready.” You look around at the shops lining the street and notice Kaeya waiting for you at the top of the steps at Good Hunter. He waves to you, and you raise a hand in return. “And who knows”—you look amused—“maybe I’ll even get Kaeya to visit home with me.”

Lumine is relieved to see you so happy. She knows what it’s like to be separated from someone you love, and it gives her some hope to see you as you are now.

Because you really are happy. And Kaeya is too.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || your newest client asks you to give him a real challenge, and you’re happy to oblige.  

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 6.3k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut but no actual sex (lots of handjob stuff though and some brief oral m receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, more cnc (because of the overstimulation), bondage, edging, impact play (riding crop), brief cock torture (she just hits him with the crop a couple times), implied “kink as trauma response” (this is gonna be a theme throughout the whole fic), forced to break a rule/doomed to fail/impossible challenge (idk how to warn for this but yeah), forced voyeurism?, thigh riding (reader rides bucky’s thigh), some degradation/dumbification, brief/implied dacryphilia, a bit of angst/feelings

new parts posted on thursdays!  join the taglist here

“Can’t,” he sighed, “can’t come again.”

He looked so painfully adorable when he begged like that, his brow glistening with sweat as he jerked under your touch.  “Aw, poor baby,” you pouted, twisting your hand when it stroked over the head of his cock, “yes you can.  I know you can.  Just gimme one more.”

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, “Mistress, please— just stop, please, I can’t… can’t take any more…”

“I know you can, sweetheart— I know you can be my good boy and keep coming for me.  Tell me your color.”

“Yellow,” he whispered.

“Think you’re almost done?” you pressed, smiling when he nodded breathlessly.  “Yeah, there’s my good boy— gonna come again for your Mistress?”

“Yes,” he breathed, baring his teeth as his hips bucked wildly to try to avoid further sensation, “y-yes, one more, just one more, I’m gonna— fuck, gonna come, just don’t stop… fuck, it hurts.”

“I know, but you’re being so good for me,” you purred.  “You like it when I milk your pretty cock, don’t you?  Even though it hurts?”

He winced but nodded.  “C-coming, Mistress, fuck, I’m coming…!”

Since it was his fifth of the evening, he could only give you one thick drop of come that gathered at his slit before running down over your hand which finally slowed to a stop.

You both sighed with relief as you pulled your hand away and leaned back, admiring how beautiful he looked as he caught his breath, covered in come and sweat.

"Good job," you praised with a chuckle, "I hope I didn't go too hard on you."

"N-no, that was… that was really good," he sighed, slumping back onto the bed.  "Can I use your shower before I go?"

"Yeah, totally," you nodded.

After a long pause, you gave him a confused look.  

"I thought you were gonna shower?" you reminded him.

"Oh… I guess I have to get up for that," he sighed, making you laugh.

"Rest a bit longer.  You've had a… challenging afternoon."

He nodded a little and you got up from the bed to go wash your hands and freshen up a little, smiling at your own appearance in the mirror— sometimes you forgot how you looked when you did this, but there was an undeniable aura of power around you… especially after a session like that.

This was only your third week with James, and already the dynamic felt so natural between you— and yet, so fresh compared to your other clients.  Normally it took longer for a newbie to get comfortable with you, yet most of them had had multiple doms before and here was James, totally inexperienced and taking it all like a champ.  There was an air of innocence about him, you figured, in contrast to this undeniable strength and intensity that you caught glimpses of from time to time.

Sometimes, it felt like he was chasing an innocence he lost a long time ago.  Whatever it was that drew him to this, you were happy to help him along the way.

It was probably a little dangerous to enjoy sessions with a client so much; even though you often pretended that everything was about your pleasure and not theirs, obviously since they were the paying customer it was the complete opposite in reality.  But there was an equity to the dynamic with you and Bucky, he served you with a real dedication rather than for his own gain.  And you, meanwhile, had rediscovered the fun in this career that had originally drawn you to it in the first place.  It was less like a science now, more like an art— you let yourself go with your instincts and do whatever felt right in the moment, and both of you benefitted for it.  

“Come on, get up and clean yourself off,” you encouraged— gently, of course— as you left the bathroom and returned to find James laying sprawled out on the bed.

“I know you said falling asleep here was a one-time courtesy,” he remembered with a smile, “but I could use it now a lot more than I needed it then.”

Honestly, you didn’t see him smile that often.  It was pleasant; you hoped to see it again.  He did get up, though, and take the washcloth you handed him to wipe off the come that had gotten all over him.  “What are you thinking for next week?” you asked as you leaned against the wall.  “Any special requests?”

“We can discuss all that over the phone,” he decided.  You still didn’t understand fully why he didn’t like to discuss future scenes in person; it was like he wanted the in-person interactions to be as ‘in character’ (if you will) as possible.

“Alright, just keep me updated,” you requested with a shrug.

You got changed while he took his shower, and when he emerged to the living room he seemed surprised to see you sitting on your own couch.  After a moment, you realized it was the fact that you were in normal clothes that threw him off.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans before… or pants of any kind.”

You looked down at your outfit with a smile, glad it was at least still professional and not sweats and a t-shirt or something.  “Yeah, I guess you haven’t.  First time for everything, right?”

“Yeah, had a lot of first times with you,” he chuckled.  “Most significantly less mundane than this.”

A brief silence filled the room but it wasn’t exactly awkward, at least not for you.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” he decided as he grabbed his jacket from your chair and slipped it on.  You’d been spending most of this session trying to forget how good he looked in the leather motorcycle cut, so that was out the window now as you tried to keep from visibly biting your lip while he walked towards the door.

Damn, he was fine.  But there were more pressing matters at hand.  Like preparing yourself and your apartment for your next appointment.  This guy wanted to get slapped around until he cried… shouldn't be too difficult, but your arms would probably be sore tomorrow.

Opposite of last week, I really want you to edge me tonight, as long as possible.

Don't go easy on me, make me hold it in.  I need a challenge this week.

-J

It was odd how emails from James made your week.

He seemed to prefer to communicate his desire with you this way; maybe it was easier for him, and you couldn’t really blame him for that.  The nice part was that you didn’t have to temper your reactions, if you had any, since you were always alone when you got his messages.  You might be old hat at it now, but you could remember a time that you had to hide a grimace when a client told you to your face what he wanted.  Not that you would shame them for it or anything (unless, you know, they paid you to), but you didn’t enjoy everything you did with these men.

Did you enjoy everything you did with James?  Yes, but you were pretending not to— for your own sake.

You dressed a bit differently for today’s session, more conservatively… not that it was especially conservative by any other person’s standards.  But it left your legs and chest covered, somewhat in the spirit of ‘mean corporate businesswoman’ aesthetically.  For some reason you felt like using a riding crop required wearing pants.

James certainly didn’t seem to mind, with the way he nervously cleared his throat after you opened the door.

“Good to see you again,” you greeted formally, “please, come in.”

He stepped past you, still looking at you and not at what was in front of him, meaning he ended up slamming himself gut-first into your kitchen island.

“Oh!  Are you alright?” you smiled when you noticed. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he nodded, rubbing his stomach for a second but recovering quickly.  “I told you I can take a lot of pain,” he joked.

“Well, we’re going to put that to the test today,” you promised cryptically.  “You must’ve seen the crop on the table.”

He nodded again.  “Yeah....”

“Are you looking forward to it?”

“Yes,” he answered, a bit too quickly.

“Then let’s get you tied up, James.”

Straddling his lap, you realized the rope was a bit too tight when you saw it digging into his skin; maybe he wouldn’t mind that, but you did, so you pushed the rope back through itself to loosen it slightly.

“How long did it take you to learn all these knots?” he asked casually, watching your fingers nimbly work the ropes around his wrists.

“Not too long,” you shrugged, “I’ve only been doing this a few years… but I knew them before that.”

“Boating school?  Boy Scouts?” he suggested jokingly.

“Just a hobby,” you decided, dodging the covert question about your past.  “Were you a Boy Scout?”

“Do I look like a Boy Scout?” he countered with a scoff.

“Not anymore,” you shrugged, “but I bet you did once.  You’re sorta innocent, you know.”

He swallowed dryly, and you raised an eyebrow as you glanced from the knot you were tightening to his face, which looked a bit flustered.  “R-really?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, leaning back on your heels to look at him straight-on.  “Are you surprised to hear that?”

He nodded quickly, and you laughed.

“Aw, you thought you were so kinky, huh?  So dirty,” you purred, running your hand up his leg until he tugged slightly on the newly-tied ropes— a subtle way to get him to test them for you.  “But you’re really not.  You’re just my sweet, innocent boy.”

He whined— really, properly whined— and you dug your nails into his skin until he hissed instead.

“I don’t think you believe me,” you noticed, leaning back to reach for the crop behind you.  “You think you’re so filthy and perverted, right?  Are you a pervert, James?”

“Yes,” he breathed, shivering as you let the crop slide gently over his skin— his abs, his hips, his legs which were already quivering so adorably.  “Yes, Mistress.”

“And how’s that?”

“I think about… getting hurt,” he admitted weakly, “when I touch myself.  And I touch myself all the fucking time.”

“Yeah?  How many times a day do you stroke that pretty cock, James?”

“Twice every morning,” he blurted out, “after that it depends.”

You didn’t let yourself show your surprise at that number.  “Depends on what?”

When he hesitated, you hit him sharply on the thigh and he winced.  “Depends on what I… what I end up thinking about.  Sometimes… sometimes something reminds me, and I have to get off.”

Something told you not to press on what it was that he needed to be reminded of, and why it made him want to jerk off so bad.  Something told you he wasn’t ready to tell that story yet.  “Did you touch yourself today already?” you asked instead.

“No, no ma’am,” he shook his head, voice wavering as you brushed the crop over his chest, “it’s… it’s different with you.”

“Yeah, I bet it is,” you smirked, hitting him on the stomach quickly.  “I bet you’re finally satisfied, right?  Nothing’s ever worked for you before.”

“Yes,” he moaned, crying out slightly when you hit him on the arm (flesh— you were too afraid what sound the metal one would make) much harder than before.  “The nights I see you, I… I can sleep.”

“You sleep better?”

“No, I just… sleep.”

You tried not to react to that, moving to a new question instead.  “Do you want me to hit you again?  Or do you want me to stroke your cock for you?”

An obvious choice to some, surely, but he seemed to really struggle with it.

“Which one do you think you deserve?” you asked instead.

“Hit me more,” he decided.

Instantly, you struck him once on the face and again on the shoulder, then moved down to his legs for three in a row in spite of the way his body jerked away instinctively.  

“Fuck,” he sobbed, “don’t stop— I need more…”

You focused on his legs, on the inside of his thigh where he seemed the most sensitive.  His twisted joy turned to true fear, though, when you brushed the end of the crop over his balls.  “Do you want me to hit you here?” you challenged.

“I… I don’t know,” he stammered.

“Let’s make a deal, James,” you offered, “wherever I hit you, I’m gonna kiss it to make it better.”

“Then hit me wherever you want,” he nodded, almost smiling at you.  He cried through his teeth when you whipped his shaft with the crop— not especially hard, in fact quite delicately, though the second was harder.  And the third, though not much more aggressive, was right on the sensitive tip; his eyes shot open and his hips jerked away.

“So good, such a good boy,” you whispered proudly, putting the crop aside to lean in and kiss his cheek where you’d hit him before, his shoulder, his arm.

You worked your way down carefully as he breathed heavily beneath you, whimpering slightly when you kissed his thighs and notably ignored his flexing, leaking cock.  “Please,” he whimpered.

“Shh, be patient,” you soothed, “be my good boy.”

“Your good boy,” he repeated, trying to restrain himself but already bucking up into the air again, “fuck, wanna be your good boy, Mistress.”

“Are you already close, pet, just from getting hurt?” you asked in a faux pout.  “You’re not gonna come if I give your pretty cock some kisses, right?”

“I— I won’t come,” he promised.  “Not until I get permission.”

“Baby, it’s gonna be a long fuckin’ time before you get permission,” you promised with a toothy grin.  “Look down at me, honey, I want you to see this.”

He hesitated for a second but obeyed, looking down at you with an expression that was full of awe as you gripped his cock and gave gentle, teasing kisses up his shaft.  It bobbed in your hands with each one, and he let out the most beautiful sigh when you kissed the tip carefully.

A wide lick made him jerk beneath you.  “F-Fuck,” he stammered.

“You said you wouldn’t come,” you reminded him.  “Can I keep going?  Are you gonna be a good boy?”

“Don’t stop, please,” he breathed, “I’ll be good.”

Taking the head between your lips, you suckled gently as he shivered and moaned.  You weren’t sure you’d ever been with anybody— on or off the clock— who was so sensitive.  And you loved it, honestly; who could resist those precious noises he made?

As much as part of you wanted to go nuts and really push him to the edge, you tried to be gentle and careful so as not to make it impossible for him to hold back.  But even then, when you gently grasped his balls in one of your hands and squeezed them, he apparently couldn’t take anymore.

"S-stop," he hissed, and you pulled back, sitting up.

"You were close?" you asked, and he nodded a little.  "Oh, what a good boy."

He whimpered briefly.  "Yes, your good boy, Mistress…"

Your fingers trailed delicately up the underside of his cock, making him shiver violently.  "I know you want to come, but you want to be good even more.  You're such a sweet little pet."

It seemed like the praises did more to keep him on the edge than the touches, so you kept both going; wrapping your fingers around the ridge of his head, you gave the most gentle and subtle strokes, and leaned in to whisper against his ear.

“Is this why you wanted me to edge you today, James?  So you could show me how good you can be?” 

“I-I don’t know,” he blurted out, rocking his hips as best he could while restrained, “I just wanted to… I just wanted you to make me wait.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that,” you laughed slightly, “I can make you wait all day.  Is that what you want?”

“No, that’s— not that long, I can’t wait that long,” he shuddered.

“Mm, that sounds like your problem, not mine,” you smirked.  “Not sure why I asked what you want, honestly… cause I don’t fucking care.”

His choked-out whine was too perfect to ignore.

“Oh, what a pathetic little moan that was, poor baby,” you cooed mockingly, “are you regretting it now?  You’re probably wondering what you got yourself into, ‘cause you’re worried Mistress is never gonna let you come.”

“No, I don’t regret it,” he denied weakly, “whatever you want— do whatever you want to me, just… give me what I deserve, please.”

You stopped touching him completely and he straight-up sobbed.  “You don’t deserve anything from me, James.  You don’t deserve me at all.”

He told you before that he liked when you rapidly cycled between soft and mean.  Kept him on his toes, apparently.  Honestly, you felt a little guilty talking to him that way sometimes, but his cock leaking enough pre-cum to soak the bedsheets beneath him was a sign you were doing something right.  “I know!” he cried.  “I know, fuck, I’m sorry, but I need you.  I fucking need you, Mistress, please— you know I’ll do anything.”

“I’m feeling generous today,” you shrugged, “so I won’t ask you for much.  Just beg me a little more.”

“Please, pleasepleaseplease,” he rushed, “touch me.  Anywhere, whatever you want, I just need to feel you.  I know I… fuck, I know I don’t deserve it, but let me try to— to earn it.  Please.”

You knew if he had it his way, he wouldn’t do much talking at all.  But you couldn’t just let him have it his way, now could you?  It was better to make him just the right amount of nervous, just the slightest hair uncomfortable, by making him talk to you.  And, of course, you liked the way his deep and rough voice got all whiny and needy like this.

One finger under his chin guided him to look up at you, those pretty blue eyes watery and sparkling and wide with misplaced innocence.

“Tell me who you belong to, James,” you instructed darkly.

“You, Mistress,” he whispered, “I’m yours, I— oh fuck…”

Unshockingly, he was reduced to only moans again when you started stroking his cock, the slick precum making every movement smoother.  “All mine, huh?  My little toy?” you confirmed, but he could only nod and swallow thickly.

You sped up quickly, getting faster and faster until you were really, properly jerking him off and he was biting hard on his lip.  Just when he seemed to really fall into it, get almost comfortable, you had to stop.

"Oh, fuck—" he gasped, bucking his hips up to try to chase your hand when you pulled away, but it was no use with him tied up.  You watched his cock bob in the air and smiled.

“Did you think it was going to be that easy?” you smirked.

Shaking his head, you tilted yours to look at him, reaching up to trace your fingers over his chest.  

“Don’t lie, baby, you thought I was gonna let you come, didn’t you?  You’re so sweet, James, and so, so stupid.”

He gasped, and for a second you thought you might’ve gone too far, but it shifted to a moan quickly and you realized he was having the time of his life.

“Just my dumb, brainless little toy,” you continued with a snarl, watching him tug at the ropes as his eyes fluttered shut.  “It’s okay, James, it’s okay… you don’t need to think, I don’t want your mind.  It’s useless.  I want this pretty cock, that’s all I want from you.”

“It’s all yours, Mistress,” he promised, cheeks burning bright red and eyes forced shut.  “All of it, I swear.”

“I know,” you cooed, holding his face gently to soothe him a bit.  But then your other hand wrapped around his cock and he was anything but soothed.  “Shh, shh, don’t make any sounds, you’re just a toy and toys need to stay quiet.”

You missed his noises, actually, but he looked so cute biting his lip and struggling to suppress them.  His cock was so swollen in your hand that you honestly wondered if it was somehow getting bigger.  Was that even possible?  Your mouth was watering regardless.

“I’m gonna give you a little break,” you promised gently, “but I’ll be honest, pretty boy… I don’t think you’re gonna like it one bit.”

The look he gave you beautifully balanced fear with anticipation, and you stopped stroking him to reach over towards the bedside drawer and pull out a vibrator.

“Your Mistress is feeling a little.... self-indulgent today,” you winked.  “And since I, unlike you, don’t need to hold myself back from coming, I think I might as well get myself off if I want to.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed dryly, watching you closely as you stood up off the bed and started to carefully undress yourself.  It was a lot more fun to get naked when you were wearing something that didn’t actually show much skin— the button-up seemed to really get him going, his tongue mindlessly darting out to lick his lips as you opened one button at a time.

Once it was off your shoulders and on the floor, and he could see the almost-transparent bra you had on, you moved to opening your trousers as well.  Just to be mean, you faced the other way as you pushed them down over your ass; you heard his breath catch and you smirked to yourself, spinning to face him again in just the matching, dark red bra and panty set.

“What do you think, do you like this better than the black ones?” you asked coyly.

“I like you naked better than both,” he answered, and you grinned.

“I’m gonna let that backtalk slide just once because it’s not worth my time to go over there and slap you for it,” you decided.  “But don’t test me, James.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered dutifully, sounding a bit out of breath as he watched you climb back onto the bed, positioning yourself carefully.

You faced him straight-on and laid your legs over his, meaning your lace-covered pussy was in full view and only inches from his leaking cock— the damn thing looked sore by now, purple at the tip and just as desperate for attention as the rest of him.

When you pulled the fabric aside to show him your cunt, he hissed and looked away.

“Look at me, James, keep your eyes open,” you demanded, seeing how totally wrecked he looked when he turned his head back to you and stared down at your body with half-lidded eyes.  “Look at how fucking soaked my pussy is.  You remember how it feels to be inside it, don’t you?”

He swallowed, sighed, and finally (just barely) nodded.

“You remember how hot and wet and tight it is, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” he choked.

“Well, that memory’s all you’ve got to work with, sweet boy, because I don’t think I’m ever gonna let you fuck this pussy again.”

He really, properly sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks, and those arms flexed against the ropes defiantly.  “N-no, please—” 

“I’m gonna make myself come with this,” you promised, interrupting him as you grabbed the vibe, “and I want you to remember how it feels when I come around you, okay?  

Turning it on, you wasted no time pressing it to your clit, moving the end of the toy in slow circles and keeping a close eye on him as he watched you.  Your intention had always been to give him a show, but the embarrassing thing was how little of it was an act.  Ironically, even though you’d been edging him this whole time, having to touch him that way without any pleasure for yourself was almost as torturous.  You’d soaked through your panties by the time you had him tied up, to be totally honest.  So, giving into it and letting yourself feel good was a breeze.

“Think about when I was riding you, James,” you instructed, your own voice clearly affected by your pleasure now.  “Think about how good it would feel if I let you come inside me.”

“Oh, god,” he cried, leaning his head back.

“Think about my pussy milking every fucking drop of come out of you.  You know I wouldn’t let you stop until I was completely full of your come, I bet you’d like that.  I bet you’d like to eat your come out of me, you sick little pervert.”

“Fuck!” he yelped, tugging at the ropes harder now— for a second you thought he might really break them and jump you.  And for a second, you knew you’d let him.  It made your walls clench as you imagined facing the consequences of driving a man to the brink of insanity until he couldn’t help but fuck you like an animal.  It was a good thing he didn’t see you bite your lip as you imagined that.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” you taunted.  

“God, don’t tell me,” he sighed through his teeth, but obviously you ignored him.

“I’m thinking about what a good boy you are for me,” you cooed, your hips starting to rock up against where you held the end of the vibrator; you pressed it down harder onto your clit and moaned instantly.  “Yeah, I’m thinking about how pretty you look when you’re all desperate and needy and fucking pathetic—”

“Oh—” he choked.

“My dumb litlte whore, that’s all you are, James,” you groaned.  “I know you wish you could touch me, it’s all you can think about, right?  That pretty head of yours would be completely empty if it weren’t for thoughts of me and how badly you want me.  Right?”

“Yes,” he whispered huskily.

A shiver ran up your spine when the vibrator bumped into a more sensitive part of you, and you did it again and again until you thought you might lose it a bit faster than you meant to.  “This toy feels really good,” you informed him in a purr, gasping when you slipped the vibrating body of it into your pussy, “but it doesn’t feel as good inside me as you do.”

His eyes fell shut but he still winced a bit every time you made a sound; he couldn’t run from this, no matter how hard he tried.

“Oh James,” you moaned loudly, fucking yourself with the vibe for a moment before you pulled it back out to focus even harder on your clit, “I’m gonna come.  I’m so, so close… I can feel it getting stronger, I think I might make a mess on these sheets.  And the only way I’m ever gonna let you come is if you watch me do it.  So open your fucking eyes.”

He blinked quickly as he opened them, gaze scanning your whole body before settling on your cunt; you were sure he could see it pulsing as you got closer and closer, you knew he was imagining how it would feel.  You only spared a brief glimpse at his cock, bobbing between his legs, and wished you could just slip it in you now and come while it stretched you out. 

But that wasn’t what he was here for, sadly, and you were sure you were the only being truly denied of your desires, despite how it probably seemed from the outside.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, numbness starting to tingle in your legs as your orgasm built up quicker than even you expected.  “I’m coming— James, I’m coming, oh, fuck… right there— yes!”

A gush of heat warmed your cunt at the same time that shocks ran up your spine and down your limbs; you could feel your legs shaking, and you knew he could, too.  

It got so intense for a second that you had to pull the vibrator away, though you didn’t stop coming until a few moments later, eyes falling shut without you meaning for them to.

You actually laughed a bit, breathlessly, as you turned the vibe off and set it aside, although you weren’t sure exactly what was supposed to be funny about this per se.  When you opened your eyes, you saw James looking down and looking positively defeated.  But he looked tense, too, and you sat up on your wobbly legs to get closer to his face.  

“Relax, James,” you told him firmly as you examined him.

“I— I can’t,” he whispered. 

“Why not?”

“I’ll come.”

Nothing could fight your wide grin anymore, not when you heard that.  “Oh, baby… are you about to come without even being touched?  Is that how much you liked watching Mistress come?”

He nodded, ever so slightly, and you laughed.  Not quite a mocking laugh, moreso impressed.  Prideful, even.  You leaned in to give a wet kiss to his neck, licking over his pulse as he shivered violently.

“That’s my good boy,” you whispered against his skin.  He whined and you cooed soothingly right away, “oh I know, I know.  It’s so unfair, isn’t it?  Mistress gets to come and you don’t…”

“Please,” he stammered, “I’m so close, let me come, please.”

“But I don’t wanna see you come, baby— I wanna see you cry.”

You started to slide your hand down his chest and he jumped up to attention as he tried to squirm away.  “No, please, don’t— don’t touch my cock, not if I can’t come.”

“You can hold it in, can’t you?” you pouted.

“No, I can’t, I can’t,” he sobbed, watching fearfully as your hand moved down to his stomach and over his hips.  

“But I thought you were my good boy,” you frowned, suddenly wrapping your hand tight around his cock as he choked on a gasp.

“Mistress!” he sobbed.  “Please, don’t—  don’t move your hand, I’ll come.”

"Never fucking tell me what to do," you instructed firmly, just barely stroking as he cried weakly.  "I'm gonna touch you however I want and you're not gonna come because you're my good boy, right?"

"No, Mistress, I can't stop it, I'm gonna come— stop, please…"

"You'd better not fucking come," you hissed through your teeth, speeding up your movements and watching his eyes shoot wide open, "you'd better hold it in until I'm done with you."

"I'm trying— please slow down, can't take it—"

You shook your head, tutting disapprovingly.  "No, baby, I tell you what you can take."

"Oh— oh god, Mistress, please, please stop, please, I c-can't— fuck!"

You pulled your hand away the second his cock started to flex but it was too late: come was shooting from his swollen tip and painting his chest and stomach.  You didn't even wait until he was done to backhand him across the face.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled.  "I'm so sorry, I couldn't help it…"

You softened slightly when you heard his broken voice, saw the desperation and fear on his face— it was real, more real than the fake ‘no’s and the encouraging pleas for mercy.  "Baby, it's okay, you tried so hard," you soothed instantly.

Hope filled his eyes just as much as tears as he looked up at you.  "Am I still your good boy?"

"Always," you smiled, caressing his face where it was already turning red from your slap.  

You reached down and caressed his cock with the back of your fingers, watching it flex weakly.  

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

His lip twitched, almost like a wince.  “Do we… do we have to stop?”

You quickly glanced at the clock.  “Um, no,” you mumbled, “we still have time.  Just tell me what you want.”

“I wanna watch you come again…” he admitted softly.  “Is… is that okay?”

Although you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, you were still surprised.  “Yeah, sure.”

“But… but closer this time,” he added, “not so far away.”

You were literally laying on top of him, how did that count as far away? 

“I wanna see your face,” he clarified.

“Okay,” you nodded, deciding to indulge him.  It was sort of like aftercare, except that this wasn’t exactly the ‘after’ part yet.

On your knees beside where he was leaning back against the headboard, you slipped your hand down into the lace panties again, finding your clit still swollen but not too sensitive.  A little gasp fell from your lips when you touched it, rubbing it carefully with two fingers while he looked up at your face.  

You felt slightly exposed when he watched you this close, and you didn’t know where to look to avoid direct eye contact.  Looking at his lips was just a little too tempting, so that wouldn’t work.

“My hands are a little tired,” you explained, “they might cramp up.  Maybe I could use your thigh…”

“O-okay,” he nodded, and you removed your fingers from your panties to sit down on the thick muscle of his leg.  You felt him tense up under you slightly, and you carefully began to rock your hips until your clit rubbed just right against the inside of your underwear.  Surely he could feel how wet you were— actually, you both could hear it, almost a wet clicking-like noise as the soaked lace slid against your skin.

The dynamic shifted slightly, not that you minded it, as he watched you ride him carefully.  Just as he couldn’t hide much from you when he was naked and tied up and baring his soul to you in the kinkiest way possible, you couldn’t hide your pleasure from him when he was looking at your face so up-close.  You let your hands carefully roam his body, narrowly avoiding the trails of cooling come he’d left on his stomach and chest, until you found his strong shoulders and held onto them for balance.

“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, biting your lip as your sore clit throbbed against his hard, muscular thigh.  

“Will you… could you kiss me?” he requested quietly, and your heart broke a little bit.  You shook your head, and he nodded in understanding.

“I’ll kiss you here,” you offered instead, whispering against his skin before you pressed your lips to his forehead, then his cheek, then his jaw.  “Is that better, James?”

“It helps,” he agreed in a sigh.  

“I’m close,” you warned quietly, pressing your cheek to his and weaving one hand into his hair.  “I’m gonna come again, on your thigh.”

“Let me touch you,” he begged, “just a little, please…”

You nodded, about to reach forward to untie one of his hands, but he snapped the ropes and you had totally forgotten he could do that.  He quickly ran his touch all over your body, calloused hands and bound wrists in stark contrast to your soft skin.  The metal one was a little cold but it didn’t bother you; the other was almost too hot, and it was like being warmed and cooled all at once.

He ran his fingers down your spine, he gripped one of your shoulders, he rubbed your legs: he did everything he must have been wishing he could do this whole time, even gasping as he ran one hand up your chest and over a cup of your bra.  Just as you sensed that he was about to ask if he could touch you there, you nodded and felt his metal hand tug down the red lace and grab your breast— thankfully not very hard, though he did give your nipple a quick pinch which made you gasp.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he finally settled his hands on holding your hips, just tight enough to slightly guide your movements as you rocked faster and more desperately.  “Please come,” he begged weakly, “Mistress, please… use me.”

It sort of hit you all at once then, like a punch to the gut.  Except, you know, a lot more fun than getting punched in the gut.

“James,” you gasped, legs quivering where they straddled his as a new patch of slick soaked the lace (and presumably his thigh as well).  He held you tight, kept you moving through it while your fingers tangled in his hair and your mouth fell slack for another, louder moan.

The way his lips moved over your skin, laving your collarbones and pulse point and the innermost corner of your jaw, was positively worshipful; reverent.  “Mistress,” he whispered, almost sounding like praise but tinted with awe.  Your movements slowed down to a stop and the two of you breathed a sigh together, unintentionally.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“What for?” you asked, blinking quickly and looking down at him, coming back to reality (though you weren’t quite sure where else it was that you had just been).

“I dunno, everything,” he decided.

“Don’t thank me,” you smiled.  “Keep paying me, though.”

He laughed a little, glancing away.  “Yeah, and I’ll pay you back for these ropes… sorry."

"No, hey, don't be sorry," you dismissed, getting up off of his leg and standing up to go grab a towel for him.  "I'm just sorry we still haven't found anything strong enough to hold you."

"It's fine, they're strong enough to make me stop myself when I want to do something I shouldn't, that's all that really matters."

You nodded to yourself as you dampened the towel and came back to wipe him off.

"I can do that for myself," he reminded you, sounding a bit embarrassed, but you thought it was sweet. 

“You just focus on getting those ropes off of yourself,” you decided with a little smile.

[sukirichi]

Hi BUB CONGRATS ON 500! 💗 it’s okay if you don’t accept but ingredient 55 reincarnation au + sugar 7 forbidden relationship (or unrequited love?) for Sukuna 🥺 I basically just want a part 2 of Home from War 😫 A snack (drabble) is fine I’ll pick up any crumbs you leave me 🤧 Maybe Sukuna’s thought process after he finds out reader was telling the truth but it was too late, or his thought process when he sees her for the first time and she’s getting closer with Megumi. Oooorrr what happens after the ending of Home from War. If you don’t do continuations that’s alright thank you!

CHOU BUB THANKS SO MUCH 🥺💗💗 and here it is, the ending of home from war, the part two people have been asking for! it’s pretty angsty tho and i may or may not have been hurt while writing this, but i hope you like it anyway!

home from war: the ending | part one

how do you comfort your lover when he cannot find his way home back from the war?

meal order: 55 (reincarnation au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) no longer included + unrequited love + home from war inspired read here: home from war: the ending

song i listened to while writing: lay me down by sam smith (yes i was looking for PAIN)

warnings: murder, character death, angst, regrets, overall a big sad, unedited as always

The sky mourned your death; dark clouds forming overhead as Sukuna watched his servants pile dirt over your body. Your lifeless eyes stared back into nothingness, the gaping hole in your chest prominent. As his last bit of respect for his fallen comrade, he’d ordered his servants to dress you in the finest white robes to replace your bloodstained clothes.

His lover stood beside him; small hands clutched around his bicep while she weeped.

He couldn’t understand why she cried, why she grieved your death. Did his lover not care that this female curse had tried to kill her and their baby just moments ago, cruel and heartless as she was?

Of course she didn’t. His lover was kind, and he didn’t stop her as the feeble human fell down to her knees, fists bundled up around her robes until your body was completely buried underneath the underneath.

They stayed there for what seemed like an eternity until his lover had grown completely tired, body dehydrated from all the crying. She couldn’t cry anymore and her clothes were stained with dirt. Sukuna sighed, his gaze pointed away from the single lily flower that laid above your corpse, reaching over to his lover to pull her arm.

“My love,” he called out, “Come on. Let’s go home. It’s getting dark.”

“No, you don’t get it,” his lover pushed him away, eyes blurred with tears and lips terribly chapped. “She was your friend, Sukuna, you couldn’t kill her just like that!”

“You’re the one who doesn’t get it. She tried to kill you and our baby!”

“Because the child is a monster!” his lover screamed back, pounding her small fists on his chest. It barely grazed him from his looming size, but something about the desperation in his lover’s voice had the words hitting straight through his heart, her gaze piercing. “Because it’s your child and you’re a monster – she was kind to you, she loved you and fought with you, you shouldn’t have killed—”

Sukuna’s arms withdrew his sword before he could realize what he was doing. The sounds of gurgling brought him back to reality, the curse stepping backward as his lover fell down on both knees, hands wrapped around her neck.

Blood dripped from the clean slice he’d made. She choked on her own blood, the liquid black and cursed – you were right. His lover did carry the curse of Death.

Sukuna stood frozen in his spot as his lover fell limp on the ground, the tips of her fingers pointed in your burial’s direction. The dark liquid oozed and poured out of her fragile body, the blood seeping into the ground until the lily turned black.

They all died. The Curse of Death had been exorcised before it fully formed, and he watched as the flower withered, crumpling down itself before the petals fell.

“Hey, Sukuna.”

“Hmm?” he looked up from cleaning his blade, scarlet eyes narrowed at the way you bounced from the corner. It was unusual for you to be this bubbly; not that he minded, though he’d never admit it out loud. Seeing you smile only happened once in a blue moon, thus catching the King of Curses off guard when your entire face lit up, eyes crinkled into half-moons at your enthusiasm.

Your laughter painted the walls of his dark, lonely temple a thousand colours. He barely got to move, much less respond, before you placed a flower crown on his head.

“Don’t you look charming.”

“Tch,” he held back a growl, the tips of his ears flushing red because how dare you defile him like this. The only reason he hadn’t killed you right there and then was because you were the so-called Queen of Curses, adorning your own handmade flower crown, only yours were a lot more colourful and his full of plain blue ones. It was his way of accepting you as his equal, though this didn’t dissipate the irritation that bloomed in his chest. “Get this vile thing off me.”

“It’s a crown I made for us, though,” you pouted, and you looked so terrifyingly adorable for a malicious and bloodthirsty Curse that even Sukuna was stunned. “See, we even match. It’s going to wither soon so let’s just enjoy it for now – while it’s still fresh and living.”

“Death means nothing to us,” he reminded you, “We don’t really die. We were never really living in the first place. Even if our bodies did decompose or wither, we’d still manifest into something else sooner or later.”

You smiled at his words, your cheek turned to him while you looked up at the bright sky. Just like your smiles and laughter, being able to see a clear sky with the blueness calming you both down was rare up far here from your temple. Due to both of your cursed presences looming over the mountain, the skies were always dark, terrifying, and cold.

But not today – not when you were basking in this thing you called “life” and Sukuna’s heart began to beat for the first time in a thousand years.

“I know it’s stupid of me to even think this is a life when I was never really alive in the first place,” you faced him again, the smile never leaving your lips. In that moment, the sun shone down on you, the colour of the flowers like a wonderful spectrum of nature’s wonder reflected back in your eyes. “But it changed when I met you. You’re right that we’re not really living, but you gave me a second chance at life, so I’ll be loyal to you. I’ll be by your side no matter what. Until I theoretically die, I choose to ‘live this life’ with you, Sukuna. I’ll always be here.”

Sukuna blinked back wordlessly, the grip on his sword faltering. He was at a loss of words, unable to process the meaning behind your words.

Understanding him better than anyone, sometimes even better than himself, you chuckled as you stood up, patting his shoulder in the process. “No need to say anything else, King. Those are just my thoughts. But I hope that if I don’t get to be with you in this life anymore, then let’s meet in the next.”

You sounded so sure back then that Sukuna had unknowingly kept your words in his heart as a vow, blindly searching for your soul – anything to have you back by his side again – because there were still some things he needed to say, some things he had to do, and all he ever wanted was to tell you that he understood your words now.

He too, found the meaning of life with you, although he realized it too late, and the realization drowned him when you were no longer there for him.

But he’ll find you – he’ll always find you.

After all, was it not your promise? Was it not your wish to meet him in the next life? When the war is over and the skies have cleared, when he could hear the steady stream of the river and the sounds of birds chirping along with your golden laughter that brightened up the darkness of his soul and his temple – would you still be able to comfort him once he’d come home from war?

[x-reader-writer]

Hii can I request for Peter parker x male reader.

The reader is taller than him, dominant and has piercings, and peter comes out to the avengers as bi and tells them that he has a boyfriend. They're sceptical first but then they see peter sitting on readers lap and them being affectionate and sweet and laughing at jokes they make.

If this contains anything that makes you uncomfortable pls ignore this.

Thank uuu.

A/N: Hi!! Of course you can. I don't do nsfw posts, but I can make the reader seem more confident to fill that gap!

Sorry it's taken so long!! I hope this is alright!

I'm coming out

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male! Reader

~~~~~

"Baby, it's gonna be okay."

"But what if it's not! What if they yell, or they hate me, or Mr. Stark wants to never see me again, or-"

You quickly grab your boyfriend's hands to stop him from talking. "Babe, none of that will happen," you say calmly, with a gentle tone. "Do you know why? It's because they're decent people who adore you, Pete, just like I do."

"You think so?" Peter asks nervously, blushing from the compliment from his partner.

"I know so," you reply, a gentle smile gracing your face.

~~~~~

Peter was stood in the elevator, his foot anxiously tapping on the slightly metallic flooring. He lets out a long, deep breath, trying to control his anxiety.

The doors then open, on the penthouse of the Avengers Tower (formerly Stark Tower). Peter steps out and looks around the common room.

All of the Avengers were sat on the sofas and little chairs, lounging around and watching a Disney movie. Peter was amused slightly as he saw that Bucky was sat on Sam's lap as a joke (Peter could tell he just wanted to sit there-).

Peter then quietly clears his throat. It wasn't the best idea, as the movie was playing quite loudly, so nobody could hear him. He takes a deep breath and then loudly cough.

Everyone in the room jumps, even causing Tony to make his popcorn go flying. Everyone looks over at the teen, who nervously rubs his arm.

"Oh hey, Pete," Tony says, picking up a handful of his popcorn that had landed on his lap. "What're you doing here? It's not Friday yet."

"Sorry about scaring you all," Peter says quickly. He then replies to his mentor saying, "Yeah, sorry about coming earlier than expected Mr. Stark, but I wanted to talk to you. To you all."

"What is it, son?" Steve asks, smiling gently at the teen (no, Peter isn't actually his son, Steve's just old). Peter stays looking awkward and nervous, so he encourages, "It's okay, we're here for whatever it is, Peter."

"I'm bisexual," Peter blurts out. The room goes silent. He then quietly mumbles, "And I have a boyfriend."

Peter grips at his arm tightly waiting for some type of reaction, the silence dragging on.

"No," is the first thing said after minutes of silence. Unsurprisingly, it was Steve who had said this. Peter had kind of expected him and Bucky to react slightly badly towards this as they were from a different time period where they didn't accept gay people.

Peter then feels hope as he sees Tony going to say something. However it is shattered when the words 'I'm sorry Pete, but bisexuality isn't a thing' come out of his mentors mouth.

"What?" Peter whimpers, taking a step back in surprise and hurt.

"Tony, that's a bit harsh," Natasha says, glaring at the man. She then looks at Peter with a straight face and states, "However, that doesn't mean that you are Bisexual. You're just confused and need to find the right girl for you."

Peter shakes his head and turns back around to leave the penthouse, ignoring the calls from the avengers, especially the shouts and demands to come back and to stop being stupid.

~~~~~

Peter was sat in your lap, crying into your shoulder. You were gently shushing him and smoothing his hair, whispering in his ear it was okay.

"I'm really sorry, Petey, I pushed you into this-"

"It's not your fault," Peter replies, sniffling as he wiped his nose.

"And it's not yours either," you reply, gently poking his chest to prove your point. "They were wrong to say that and do that to you, I'm glad I was here waiting for you so you could come to me. Otherwise, I don't know what would have happened."

Peter nods and sniffles, wiping his nose with his hand. You chuckle softly and grab a tissue from your pocket (what? Peter cried a lot, you liked to be prepared!) and hand it to him with a smile. He smiles back at you and blows his nose.

"Better, Dumbo?" You ask, teasing him with the name.

Peter giggles and says, "Better, n/n."

You grin and then say, "uh oh, I see someone coming.." Peter looks at you confused, but you simply raise your hands slowly. Peter pales slightly before squealing and trying to get away from you as you start tickling his sides. He laughs and giggles, kicking and squirming on your lap. "Tickle monster!"

After a few minutes, Peter's sad tears had turned into tears of laughter. So you stopped and smirked at him as he was still laughing and blushing from the tickle 'fight'.

You lean down and kiss his nose, which makes him blush gently. then you start kissing all over his face, making him a blushing mess.

"Ksh, mission complete boys, ksh," you state, pretending you had a Walkie talkie, making Peter giggle at you and move up to cuddle up to you. You grin and gently smooth his back.

"And who are you?" A male voice says, interrupting the peaceful atmosphere between the two.

You look up and glare at the group who had approached you. The Avengers. The ones who hurt your boyfriend.

"What do you want?"

"We heard from security there was a random guy sat here, so we came to see who you were, and then we saw you touching up Peter," Clint says, glaring at you.

"Excuse me?" You state, shocked at what he had said, as you had hardly even touched your boyfriend, only holding his head and hugging him.

"Who. Are. You?" Bucky says, getting angry.

"I'm Y/n L/n, aka, Peter's boyfriend," you growl. You then hold Peter gently as you pull him closer, feeling extra protective over him as everyone starts yelling their complaints and how much they disagreed.

"What on Midgard is going on here?" You hear a booming voice call out.

Both you and Peter look over first. You see that the owner of the voice was Thor Odinson, next to him was stood a very pissed looking Loki.

"I think we both know what is happening here, brother," Loki replies, a muscle in their forehead spasming, almost comically. You would have found it amusing if not for the situation at hand.

Tony replies to Thor's question, ignoring Loki had said anything, "Peter is apparently 'Bisexual' and this random guy is his 'boyfriend'. I'm thinking he's a hydra agents and has brainwashed-"

"Enough!" Thor yells, glaring at Tony and the group. "How dare you make rude comments about these poor boys! Bisexuality is a common thing among Asgardians, Loki himself is one! Bisexuality is common amongst many things, even the animals on your own planet are bisexual, gay or any of the other LGBTQ community! You should not slander such a group, especially as they are such a huge quantity of the population, and not only of this planet or your species!"

The room was silent, even you included.

Loki walks over to Peter and gently pat's his head, their face soft and a gentle smile was placed upon their lips. "You are the Peter child, yes?" The brunette nods at the god, who smiles more in return. "Here is a little secret of my own that I've been keeping from everyone, that I shall share. It will mean that I'm joining you in, as Midgardians say, 'coming out'."

Loki then turns to the group and says, "I have something to say too. I, myself, am genderfluid. And I identify as a female today."

The room is silent again.

"I have a sister!" Thor says excitedly, picking Loki up and twirling her around. Loki smiles, happy Thor had accepted her.

"Woah, that's so cool, Ms. Loki!" Peter squeals, smiling brightly. "Oh wait, do you still want to be called that?"

"Yes, Loki is perfectly fine, child" she replies, smiling back.

[golbrocklovely]

never needed // colby brock

A/N: so fun fact about this fic is that i came up with it last year back in november. it was around the time me and my ex best friend stopped being friends. i was really in such a rough headspace, and i think the concept shows it. i just finished writing it today and wow... i still feel this way to some extent, but not fully (thank god). also i literally cried while writing it today so there’s that. hope yall enjoy this one. i'm trying to post a bunch of fics since this coming week is my bday (the 14th). no guarantees, but i'm trying my best to put out at least six things. let me know what you think of this one. see yall later :)

prompt: colby has been ghosting you for a while, just when things were starting to get good between you two. after a week of ignoring you, he’s finally ready to talk. || fem!reader x colby brock

trigger warning: angst, cursing, heartache, crying, honestly this one is really sad so sorry about that, happy ending tho

word count: 2331

~~~~~~~

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I groaned to myself, staring at my phone.

Colby was still ignoring me, something I had grown accustomed to this week. He had ghosted my calls and my texts. He turned his read notifications off too, so I had no clue whether or not he had even seen my messages at all.

Everything had been going great between us. We had met a couple years back and hit it off as friends right away. I always thought he was attractive, and our friendship was always really flirty; so much so that fans thought we were together. And then finally, something clicked a couple months back. I wasn't sure if it was the accidental drunken kiss we shared, or just a built up of feelings, but we finally decided that maybe we should test out an actual relationship.

We promised each other we would take it slow, both of us still heartbroken from our previous relationships and our general trust issues. But these past two months, we went into overdrive, actually taking the time to feel each other out as boyfriend and girlfriend.

And for the first time, I felt happy. Genuinely happy.

A week ago, we had even gone on a cute little date, something we had started doing regularly. We were in the middle of our conversation; I remember I laughed hard at something he said. It was loud enough that some of the patrons in the restaurant stared at us. And when he tried to shush me jokingly, a silence had fallen over us.

His face dropped suddenly, he became super serious and quiet, and then he asked if we could go home.

He told me the next day that he thought he got food poisoning and it just hit him in the restaurant. I didn't think anything of it and was fine with going home early.

But now, I wonder if he was lying.

I looked back down at my phone, reading over my messages from the past week to him.

Was I taking this too far? He could have just been busy. I don't wanna come across as clingy.

"Ugh, fuck that." I muttered out loud to myself, rolling out of my bed to get a drink.

I didn't care if I came across as clingy. I had a right to know why he was ignoring me. If it was work related, he would have told me. He had done that in the past before.

This was different, I just knew it.

Tomorrow, I planned to go over and see him. I would have done it tonight, but I knew he wasn't home. He was out with some friends at Saddle Ranch. Like a fan, I had to watch his stories on Insta, since that was the only way I knew where he was.

"Don't expect too much from him." Sam said.

I shook my head at that memory. When we got together, everyone was happy for us. But I could feel a certain tension in the room, a certain caveat that wasn't being mentioned. Later that night, Sam and I were by ourselves, and he asked me if Colby and I had really made our relationship official. I told him we hadn't gone all the way, but that we were taking it one step at a time.

"I'm happy for you guys, really. I just wonder..." His voice trailed off.

I cocked my head. "Wonder what?"

"Look, I love you both, but I don't know if Colby is really ready for a relationship. There's a lot of things he still needs to work through." He stated.

"We're not that serious." I laughed.

"Yeah, yet. If you plan to be, I just don't want you to get your heart broken because he wasn't ready." Sam admitted.

I patted his shoulder lightly, smiling. "Relax, Samuel. Everything will be fine."

"Alright. Just... don't expect too much from him, okay?" He mentioned, his eyes narrowing on mine.

That had been two months ago and... I think I should have heeded his warning.

A loud knock at my front door brought me out of my thoughts, scaring me. I grabbed a knife from my kitchen, striding over to the door. I glance through the peephole to see who was there.

Colby's face stared back.

"Y/N, it's me. Can you open the door?" He called.

I scowled at him through the peephole. "Sorry she's not home right now. Maybe you should try responding to her texts.”

“Look I'm sorry, but that's why I came over. I wanted to talk in person.” He replied.

“Damn, that’s a shame. Too bad she’s not home!” I exclaimed angrily.

“C’mon now, don’t be childish.” He remarked.

I swung the door open, holding back from yelling into my hallway. “Childish?!”

He smirked at me. “I knew that would get you to open the door.”

“You’re not funny.” I deadpanned, glaring at him.

“Can you please let me in? I seriously want to talk.” Colby responded, his eyes landing on mine.

“No, Colby. It’s one o’clock in the morning, I don’t feel like talking, and you’re drunk.” I jeered, resting my hands on my hips.

He scrunched up his face dramatically. “No, I’m not. I only had like two drinks.”

“Oh my mistake. I figured a person that randomly comes over to talk at the ass-crack of night is usually drunk,” I quipped. “Don’t you have better things to do, like be at Saddle Ranch?”

He stepped back, raising an eyebrow. “How’d you know I was at Saddle Ranch?”

I could feel my cheeks heat up. “Because… I watched your stories.”

“Nice to know you pay attention to me,” he uttered under his breath. “Please let me in.”

“No. Fuck off, Colby.” I hissed.

He rolled his eyes at my comment. “If you don’t let me in, I’m just gonna make noise out here in the hallway until you do.”

“Bet.” I huffed.

“What was your favorite movie again… ‘10 Things I Hate About You’?” He questioned, stepping back further into the hallway.

I blinked. “Yeah, so what?”

He looked up at me, giving me a devilish smile. “…You’re just too good to be true.”

My face dropped at his voice. “Colby.”

“Can’t take my eyes off of you.” He sang, pointing at me.

“Are you really-” I started.

He cut me off, running his hands down his body. “You’d be like heaven to touch.”

I hushed. “Seriously stop-”

“I wanna hold you so much.” He closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around himself.

I grunted, smacking my hand towards him. “Colby, it’s one in the morn-”

“At long last, love has arrived.” He opened his arms wide.

“Shut the fuck up!” I whisper-shouted.

“And I thank God I'm alive.” Colby praised up towards the ceiling.

I retorted. “You’re fucking embarrass-”

He spun in a circle slowly. “You're just too good to be true.”

“I knew giving you the code to my apartment was a bad idea.” I grumbled.

“Can't take my eyes off of you.” He winked, pointing at me again.

Colby took a big inhale, ready to start singing the music, but I grabbed his arm and pulled him into my apartment.

I slammed my door shut, locking it quickly. “Next time you do something like that, I’m gonna kill you.”

“That’s not very- why do you have a knife?” He motioned toward the knife sitting on my side table.

“What-? Oh, I thought you were an intruder.” I explained.

He lightly smiled, his dimples appearing. “You think an intruder would knock?”

I snapped, annoyed. “Aren’t you here to apologize?”

“Right, right,” he cleared his throat, his demeanor changing. “Y/N, I’m deeply sorry.”

“Sure.” I narrowed my eyes, walking towards my kitchen.

He followed me. “I know what I did was fucked up. I should have responded to you.”

“You completely ignored me for over a week.” I informed him, resting my back against the counter.

He nodded. “I know. I shouldn’t have done that.”

I crossed my arms uncomfortably. “…were you busy?”

“No, not really.” He divulged, dropping his head.

“So, you purposefully ignored my calls and text…” I could feel my hands shake against my arms.

“You make it sound bad-” He mumbled.

“It is that bad.” I emphasized, stopping him. “Colby, you wanna talk about being childish? That shit was childish.”

He agreed. “I know it was.”

“Obviously not since you keep joking about it.” I argued.

“I’m not trying to joke,” he protested, running his hands through his hair. “Do you wanna know the honest to God truth?”

“Of course I do.” I answered, furrowing my eyebrows.

He exhaled, glancing at me. “When we first got together, even though we were taking it slow, I was terrified to date you.”

“Terrified?” I puzzled.

He swallowed hard. “Yes. Scared shitless.”

“Why?” I questioned.

“I thought it was because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. But then… at dinner,” his voice lowered, his shoulders dropping. “I realized it was more than that.”

I shook my head, confused. “What are you ta-”

“I’m falling in love with you, Y/N.” He confessed.

His words made me step back, my breath hitching in my throat.

I choked. “What?”

“When you laughed really hard, and did that cute snort thing you do, I remember we looked at each other… and all I saw was you,” his eyes bore into mine, causing goosebumps to rise all over my skin. “No one else in that restaurant existed. And in that moment, I wanted to tell you I love you.”

I stammered out words, unable to think clearly. “S-so… you-”

“When I felt it, I knew I had to go home. Because I was just so shocked at the feeling. I haven’t felt that way for anyone in a long time.” He sighed exhaustingly, “and… I apologize that I ignored you. Every time I saw your messages, I knew I should have responded. But my body, my mind, wouldn’t let me.”

I frowned. “Because you love me?”

“Because… I’m scared to love you.” He admitted.

A heavy silence fell over the apartment. I shuddered out an exhale, not even noticing I had been holding my breath in for so long. Colby closed his eyes, twisting up his face, and turned his back to me.

“Why are you scared to love me?” I gulped, scared of his answer.

His shoulders tensed as he gripped the counter. “The last time you felt heartbroken… did it leave you feeling empty? Because that’s how I felt… for so long. It’s not even the empty feeling that bothered me. It was the fact that I knew something used to be there… and now it’s gone. I miss who I was before.”

I opened my mouth, but no words escaped.

“I have this deep, guttural feeling that you’re gonna realize I’m not worth loving, and that there is someone else out there that is, and you’re gonna leave me.” His voice trembled as he spoke, “everyone… always leaves me.”

I gasped quietly. “Colby-”

He turned back to me, his face becoming red. “I just feel like no one ever needs me, you know? Like some people only keep me around because they don’t have the heart to just tell me they don’t care anymore. Even Sam has someone else.

I consoled. “That’s not-”

“And I know it’s selfish to want everyone around me to only want me. I don’t really feel that way. I just… don’t feel like anyone really needs me as much as I need them,” his chest quaked as his breathing began to speed up. “And when you realize it too… I don’t think I can live through that fall out again. I don’t think I’m gonna survive it.”

“Wait, Col-” I murmured.

“At that dinner, I had this gut-wrenching anxiety come over me; a voice in my head that said ‘she’s gonna leave you too’ and… I’m just so sorry.” He panted, his eyes welling up.

I wrapped my arms around him tightly, pressing his body into mine as hard as I could. He buried his face into my neck, his body almost going limp against mine.

I couldn’t help my own tears spill as they landed on his shirt. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way before?”

“I was ashamed. I should be stronger than this.” He fumed through his tears.

I rubbed his face lovingly. “Who said that? You are strong. Expressing your emotions is strong.”

He nodded, croaking. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course. How about tonight you stay over, and then in the morning, we’ll talk about this more? Okay?” I suggested, resting my hands on his forearms.

“Yeah.” He whimpered.

I smiled brokenly. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

I lightly grasped Colby’s hand, pulling him slowly into my bedroom. He stumbled along, his head remaining down.

I sat him down on the bed and slid off his jacket, placing it on my dresser. I cupped his face, tracing his jaw with my fingers. His eyes finally landed on mine as I tilted his head up.

I leaned down and kissed his lips, resting my forehead against his.

“I’m not gonna leave you, Colby.” I stated, gazing into his eyes.

He begged in a hushed tone. “Please don’t.”

“I won’t. I promise.” I reassured, kissing his forehead.

I walked over to the other side of my bed and laid down. Colby kicked off his shoes, taking his belt off and pulling his jeans down. After getting undressed, he slid into bed with me, laying his head down softly on my chest. Wrapping his arms around me, he buried his head into my neck again, sighing against my skin. I ran my fingers through his hair, a light hum falling from his lips. I ran my other hand up and down his spine, feeling him shiver under my touch.

“We’ll be okay, Colby.” I whispered.

[midnight-on-pluto]

You Cry in Front of Them masterlist

Midoriya // Bakugo // Kirishima

Genre: fluff, comfort, slight angst and hurt in Bakugo’s

Warnings: swearing, self deprecating thoughts, a pre established relationship in Bakugo’s, light fighting in Bakugo’s, lots of touching in Kirishima’s

Izuku Midoriya

It had been a long day. First I’d woken up late, then someone spilt water all over me at lunch. I honestly didn’t understand anything any of the teachers said today and I was so behind on homework.

I just needed to breakdown. I needed someplace quiet and subtle that I could go and cry. I could use the janitors closet, but the risk of getting caught there was high since so many students used it to make out.

It was the last period of the day. Maybe I could wait it out and cry in my dorm, someplace no one was bound to walk in.

If I do that I’ll just end up crying in class. I needed to cry now. The need had been strong all day but now I could feel tears forming.

I was walking beside Midoriya, and that didn’t help things. He was talking about heroes, something he talked about constantly. Right now it was something about some hero defeating some villain, but I was really only focused on crying.

“Sorry, I gotta go,” I managed out before I walked away swiftly, head down. He stopped talking, watching as I left but he just stood there.

The library would be quiet and no one really went. It wasn’t perfect but it would do the trick.

I pushed open the door and headed to one of the empty rooms available for studying. Shutting the door behind me I immediately collapsed and started sobbing.

The day wasn’t going well, and I felt like shit for leaving Midoriya like that. God I was so stupid, such a bad friend too. I can’t get anything right.

A knock. I stopped, wiping my face before moving away from the door. I was such an idiot just running into the room like that, you had to sign them out.

Sighing, I opened the door. Expecting to see a librarian or fellow student, but I suddenly become confused when I locked eyes with Midoriya’s green ones.

“H-Hey,” I said, sniffling. He studied my face, then his eyes went wide and his mouth opened slightly.

“Have you been crying?” He asked softly. I wiped my tears more and shook my head, holding back the tears of both sadness and embarrassment now.

“No, sorry, I just needed to study someplace.” I said. It was clear in my voice that I had been crying, it was raspy and tears had stained my cheeks already. My nose was blocked and stuffy, I couldn’t breathe from it.

He just looked at me, his eyes filled with empathy and a hint of sadness. He hugged me, walking in the room and shutting the door behind me.

“It’s okay to cry,” he told me. His arms stayed tightly around me and i pulled my arms around his neck.

Burying my face in his neck I let out a small sob. His grip tightened and my knees buckled. He caught me and we went down to the ground, slowly and softly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, arms still tight around me while I cried on his shoulder.

“I didn’t wanna bother you,” I said. “You were talking and it’s just been such a bad day, Izuku.”

“Tell me about it?”

I nodded.

Bakugo Katsuki

Something in me had snapped. I was alone, in my dorm luckily. I curled up on my bed, letting the feelings of today come out is tears.

What Bakugo had said was hurtful. Sure, he was an aggressive guy and he could be mean, but this one hit home.

His words rattled in my brain. I can’t help that you have problems, if you don’t like this relationship then fine, we’re done.

Did we just break up? Did I no longer have him? Or anybody? My head hurt from how hard I was crying, eyes watering quirked then I could blink and my eyes were blurry.

My nails were digging into my skin, I felt cold, no amount of blankets could warm me now. Something was wrong, something was missing.

I wasn’t crying loudly, but I never heard the door open, or his steps towards me. I just felt his hand, resting on my shoulder.

I looked up through blurry eyes, his figure barely able to be made out but I could tell it was him.

“Bakugo?” I asked him lightly, sobbing once I knew. He looked down, his face wasn’t in its usual snarl, but a frown. His eyes weren’t fiery, they were sad. His touch was gentle, light on my shoulder.

He hadn’t been crying, but he was close to it. I could see small tears in his eyes that he was blinking away.

“Hug me?” I asked him. For the first time since he walked in he looked at me, nodding and sitting next to me in bed.

I felt his arms around me. They weren’t tight, almost like a feather. I leaned onto his shoulder and cried, he let me, even let out a few of his own sobs before remembering what he came to do.

“Y/N?” He asked. A voice that was usually loud and rough was now soft and angelic, like water in a dry desert. His voice was all I needed to hear.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” He continued. “I should’ve listened I’m so sorry.” Sobs now came from him on my shoulder.

“Bakugo?” I hugged him tighter.

“I should’ve listened and now I’ve lost you.” He was crying harder now. “I had planned my whole life with you and one sentence ruined it.”

I can’t help that you have problems, if you don’t like this relationship then fine, we’re done.

“I’m not gone,” I told him. “I promise.”

“I pinky promise, Bakugo. I’ll never be gone.”

Ejiro Kirishima

There’s a feeling I get when I need to cry. Nothing bad has to happen, there isn’t a known trigger, yet for some reason I just needed to cry.

That feeling was happening now. I sat in my dorm, wondering, what could’ve made me feel this way?

Everything in my life was perfect. I was in the course I wanted, my grades were higher than ever. Not only that but I had friends, real friends for the first time in so long.

But something was making me sad, something made me unable to choke back the sob that I’d felt coming up my throat.

Once the first one was out, the rest only followed and I knew there was no stopping it. Tears streamed down my face and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I wasn’t being loud, soft sobs as tears flowed and music played in the background.

I heard my door open and looked up to whoever was there through tears. Red spiky hair fell into my view and I held my arms out to him.

“Kiri...” I trailed off. Not long after he shut my door, running up to me and pulling me in for the hug I’d asked for.

His arms hugged tightly, face buried in my neck, close to my ear as he whispered soft words to me. My tears wet his shirt, but he didn’t care.

“What’s wrong,” his whispers came. “Why’re you crying?”

His voice was genuine, laced with worry and hurt. I felt him lift me up off the ground and I wrapped my legs around his body, hands holding my thighs in place.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m here, it’s okay I promise.”

“I don’t know,” I choked out. “Why I’m crying.”

“It’s okay,” he whispered again. “It’s okay, Y/N, I’m not leaving.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”