#I am now home and nothing has been accomplished other than My Legs Hurt

[tmae3114]

Today I went into the city to buy a bike helmet

The first shop I went to had no bike helmets, though their website said they did (it was a chain whose physical locations' stock often differ from the website, so I was prepared for that)

The second shop I went to did have bike helmets! Unfortunately, none of them fit me. One came close but even with the straps as short as they could possibly go, I could fit my hand between my chin and the clip

The third shop I went to did not have bike helmets, though their website said they did

The fourth shop I went to did not have bike helmets. They did, however, have hats! As I had been walking around the city for several hours at this point, in 20° heat, hatless, I thought this might be a nice little treat to myself. A new hat to help me handle the heat and take the sting out of the failure of my attempts at acquiring a helmet.

All of the hats were too big.

[makayla-thoughts]

The Mental Game with Figure Skating

When I started figure skating, I would have never thought I would get to where I am now. It may have taken me a long time to get to the point I am at, but nothing can happen overnight. During my beginning years of skating I would always come out at the top of the podium. Everything was so natural for me. Stepping onto the ice is my therapy, it takes my mind off of all the stress in my life. Skating is always where I was when I was not home. I rarely missed a day of practice, and always made sure that I showed up on time to everything. But just like every other sport, the higher level you get to, the harder it gets. Pretty soon you go from the top of the podium, all the way to the bottom. And sometimes you don't know why. Every jump, spin, and step in your program is graded. If there is one little bobble or fall, you could drop down a placement. It can mean the difference between getting on the podium or falling off the podium.

There is a point in everyone's lives where they feel that they have hit the bottom. That you will never succeed. Taking my test was my moment. I had spent months training for this test, I was finally ready to move up a level and thought I was ready for it. I took the ice and began, as soon as my music started I didn't feel like I was in my own body. My legs were shaking uncontrollably and pretty soon I fell, followed by another, and another. I had never messed up this bad during a test. I got off the ice and waited for the results, although I already knew how I did. They came, and I did not pass. My mom looked at me and said "It is okay, Kayla." I looked back at her with tears in my eyes and said "I am not upset that I didn't pass, I am just disappointed with myself. I know I can do so much better than that." It hurt so much because I had been skating so well in practice. But as soon as I got on that ice to test I could not feel any muscles in my body, I couldn’t hear anything. All I could do was try to skate. Everyone gave me words of wisdom to try and make me feel better, but I knew I had to change my mindset. I can't just get on the ice and skate, there is so much more to skating than that. I have to work harder than I do in practice, I have to remind myself of everything my coach tells me. And biggest of all, if I fall once I cannot give up.

After this back slide everything seemed to get worse before it got better. I would spend hours of my days falling and not believing in myself. I did not think I could accomplish anymore of my goals. It got to the point where I didn't even want to get on the ice to skate. Skating was hard to keep as my therapy when now skating itself was my stress. But I didn't let the defeat stop me, I kept showing up. My coach trained me in new ways to prepare for testing yet again. I worked on training my mind in new ways until every time I would step on the ice, I would not fall during my program. Soon enough I soared past these goals that I had set for myself, I flew through my tests with courage instead of nerves. I started making new goals for myself to achieve.

Without skating, I don't know who I would be. It has taught me so many incredible lessons. I learned how to get past mental blacks in your mind, even though it may have been hard. It was worth it. I also know that not everyday is going to be perfect, but you need to take in those little victories because you never know how often they will come. Just because you messed up once or twice doesn't mean it is a lifelong failure. You have to learn how to overcome the mistakes and how to grow from them. I also had to learn how to trust myself, even though I have a coach there is only so much that they can do, the rest relies on yourself. You have to believe in yourself that you can do it.

[hoezhatelola]

Pretty Little Head

Yandere Deku x Fem!Reader

warnings: yandere tendencies(obviously), 18+ NSFW, gore/violence, drug usage, bondage, dubcon/noncon, praise kink, oral(female receiving), oral(male receiving), MDNI

a/n: this was actually a request i received outside of tumblr but i decided to make one here too! i’m so excited to write this one, i think that underneath deku’s innocent appearance he would make one hell of a yandere.

word count: 4.1k

deku had never anticipated someone like you would be the source of all his stress, pleasure, and love. despite being quirkless and utterly small compared to deku himself, you were always so kind. you were always there to take his hand and help him up when bakugou would push him down. you were always there to ruffle his hair and reassure him he’d do great on an exam. you were always there to offer him a snack or some extra lunch, even if you were hungry.

it left deku confused in the dust, as a child and still now, completely lost in how or why you were so nice to him. even when he took off to pursue his career of being a pro hero, which he was very successful in doing, you were still there to visit him or patch up his scratches.

in his bright green eyes and from beneath his curly green hair, this was enough for anyone to reserve the right to feel a burning hatred towards your significant other. he watched in anger as you sat on that blue-eyed idiot’s lap, tangling your fingers in his dark hair and whispering dirty nothings into his ear. he watched in jealousy as a stupid smirk spread across his lips, well aware there was something threatening to spring upwards as he palmed the fat of your thigh in response.

much to his dismay, he couldn’t watch you all hours of the day due to hero work. that didn’t mean he didn’t keep tabs on you however, which he accomplished by using his friends to update him on your whereabouts. who you were with, what you were doing, what you were wearing, what time you got home, when you fell asleep and when you wake up- he knew everything.

at the end of the day, he was still your best friend. you had invited him over one evening and you were telling him about your day, him smiling in response and just looking at you in awe, listening to you babble away.

“and then it started raining! so i had to run to my car and i ended up slipping, see?” you pointed towards your thigh where a large, and honestly, painful looking scrape was. his eyes widened in his response as he analyzed the mark. “that looks like it must’ve hurt, bunny.”

your heart repeated that same fluttering that it has been ever since you were teenagers at response to that nickname of yours. you’d think by now you’d have gotten used to it, huh?

“it did! and i was just laying there like an idiot in the rain for a good two minutes.” you laughed, emphasizing the word idiot. he chuckled in response, seemingly distracted with something else as he admired your smile and the way it lit up your entire cozy apartment.

“hey, you okay?” you asked suddenly, running a hand through his locks, the two of you seated on your sofa with the tv on in front of you. naturally as best friends, the two of you have had a few intimate moments, but they were always platonic. even though he knew this, he loved you too much for his breath not to hitch at the feeling of your soft fingertips playing with his hair.

“oh! yeah, i-i’m fine!” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck and beaming brightly. “hero work just gets me tired and all, you know?” of course you didn’t know. what was he thinking saying that? you were always insecure of being quirkless, your childhood bully, bakugou, not being any help.

you pulled your hand back and looked away, your eyelids slightly lowering themselves, giving you a less excited expression. deku felt his heart drop and his stomach turn inside out, he hated himself for getting so caught up in his own thoughts of fluffy handcuffs adorning your wrists and your bodies colliding that he had forgotten to think before speaking.

“i didn’t mean it like that, bunny!” he said quickly, reaching out to grab your hand when you dodged him. “what are you-”

“this isn’t the first time you’ve said something like that, deku.” you muttered, immediately questioning yourself afterwards. were you being too sensitive? “even if you didn’t mean it this time, i- i just hate hearing you say it…” your eyes locked into the floor, your fingers now fiddling with each other.

although deku didn’t always have the strongest memory, he never failed to remember that some things in the world were far too fragile to be left out there. that they were too sensitive and too kind and too innocent to be yelled at. but sometimes- and only sometimes, did they deserve to be punished.

he did his best to soften his voice before scooting closer and placing a much larger and scarred up hand on top of yours. “bunny, i really didn’t mean it this time. you know that there’s nothing wrong with being quirkless, right?” he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, now revealing your tear-stained side profile.

head now resting on his chest as he sat next to you, wrapping his arms around you in attempt to comfort you, his heart beating through his clothes. “i’ve always wanted to be a hero, since we were little. pathetic how i thought i actually had a chance…” you mumbled into his chest, blinking back more tears and suppressing a sniffle. “when you got into U.A., and your quirk developed late, i was s’ happy fer’ you. i looked up to you and i- i always wa-wanted to be jus’ like y-you.” your words became more jumbled as your tears welled up and you hiccuped multiple times.

deku was then reminded of the significant fact that he never told you the truth about his quirk, and he never planned to. always wanted to be like him, huh? he allowed you to cry into his chest, enveloping you in all of the possible warmth that he could, feeling his opportunity nearing closer and closer.

“looked up to me? hah… bunny, i always looked up to you.” he tilted your chin up and wiped a tear away with his calloused thumb, his strong arms still around your smaller frame. “you’ve always been so kind and intelligent, and a lot stronger than me. hell, you stood up to kacchan when i couldn’t!”

a small smile worked it’s way onto your lips in response. “that’s my bunny, there’s that smile..” deku said, and you giggled, hugging him tighter than before. “aah, thanks deku.” you sighed, “maybe i was being a little, smh- dramatic.” you sniffled, shrugging your shoulders.

“not at all… hey, how about some of your favorite tea? you know i make it the best!” he said enthusiastically as you curled up with a blanket that he had gotten you on your last birthday. “why not?” you giggled as he walked into the kitchen and prepared your drink.

//

an unfamiliar, soft sensation could be felt on your wrists, restraining you from moving. the surface you were on was particularly soft and comfortable, and you hazily opened your eyes to be met with a large room. you looked up and spotted a pair of fluffy, pink handcuffs locked tightly onto your wrists above your head, keeping you restrained to the white, wooden headboard.

the four walls were painted a baby pink, a large mirror, decorated with swirls on the edges hanging in the middle, and the entire room lined with stuffies, trinkets, pillows and everything soft. from what you could see, the door had more locks on it than you could count with your blurred vision, and surely, heavy approaching footsteps could be heard from the other side of the door.

you held your breath and closed your eyes, turning your head and pretending to be asleep. your lips parted in a gentle breath for air, your body remaining still as the unknown person entered the room and locked the door behind them. you felt the right side of the bed dip as if someone was looming over you, attempting to get a better look at something.

“i know you’re awake, bunny. i heard you tugging at the pretty little handcuffs.” your eyes snapped open at the sound of your best friend’s voice. his eyes locked with yours as he set a plate down beside the bed and pulled you to sit up straight. “hey, pretty girl.”

“d-deku?” you stuttered, eyes widening as the feeling in your legs was now returning. “yes, my love?” he replied, the plate of food now in his lap as he began to cut the piece of meat for you. “what- what the hell is going on? why am i handcuffed to this bed? where even am i?”

“shh, shh… relax, bunny. eat a little first, i made your favorite!” he shoved the piece of steak up against your lips using the fork and you shook your head now. his knuckles gripped the fork so tightly they turned white, and so you complied and chewed. “remember how i told you i was renovating my basement? welcome! i made it all pretty and comfortable for you! i have all your favorite colors and i got all these fluffy plushies and blankets!” he said with too much excitement.

“ahh!” his eyes lit up, “we’re gonna have so much fun here, for the rest of forever!” you swallowed the bite you took before he was already offering you more, obviously eager to see you full. “deku… i’m still confused here. uncuff me, now.”

“tch… you’re really ungrateful, you know.” he muttered, continuing to feed you and caress you. “how am i ungrateful, huh?” you asked furiously, a complete fool for thinking you could even remotely amount to his level. you locked your eyes with his as he set the food to the side and forced you to drink water and remain hydrated. beyond his insane thought process and maniacal grins, even an idiot could see he still cared.

“first, i wake up in some completely random room, handcuffed to a bed! and then you come in here, offer me a meal, and then when i want to be uncuffed, im ungrateful? deku, you need to ex-” he leaned in a cut you off completely, your lips attaching.

you turned your head in attempt to look away, to which he grabbed your chin and held you still. his hands trailing down to between your thighs, effortlessly spreading them apart, your fighting back doing nothing at all. his hands tightened their grips on your inner thighs as his lips continued on your neck. he found your hopeless squirming adorable, but irritating.

“gah… stay still.” his tone firmed and his eyes narrowed, again looking into yours. you’d seen him mad before, of course, and you’d seen him determined and impatient and annoyed, but he was never so intimidating towards you. deku realized this shortly after, immediately softening his tone as he dipped his head down to between your legs, nibbling at the fat of your thighs.

“what are you- aah…” you gasped suddenly, your head snapping downwards to see his tongue run a long, clean lick over your slit from on top of your cute little panties. you knew you stood no chance against the number one hero, and you’d never admit to the growing dampness between your legs. your thighs threatened to grind together as his tongue and teeth continued teasing the edges of your panties, avoiding where you genuinely needed him.

“deku, pl-please don’ do th-this.” you gulped down, a tear making it’s way down your cheek. he looked up at you and smiled brightly and pulled down your panties, throwing them to the side, much to your confusion. “but look at you, bunny..” he ran two fingers along your now naked, glistening cunt as your juices coated them. “you’re completely soaked for me. you don’t actually want me to stop, do you? hmm..”he hummed.

“i… i don’t…” you struggled desperately to find words as your cheeks flushed red at the feeling of his eyes seeing things no one else ever has before. “right…” he smugly said both at the feeling of knowing how much you were second guessing yourself, and seeing you blush so furiously, spreading your legs apart even further, holding you down once again, effortlessly. “now just be my good bunny and take it.”

his words sent you over the fucking edge, your thighs grinding together for some type of friction as he laughed with a sense of superiority, now lying completely on his stomach and lapping at your folds. he wasted no time, and the feeling of his wet tongue slide across your womanhood was a sensation you were unfamiliar with. the last ounce of your strength was used when fighting back, and so you just lied there and took it, just like deku said.

your sweet taste drove him more insane than he already was. he watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your brows knitted together, and he swore he fell in love with you all over again. his thumb was brought to your clit before he ran careful circles over it, blowing hot air against your pussy when you attempted to squirm away, causing goosebumps to rise against your skin. you could feel him smirking against you, and at this point you didn’t really care.

“de-deku… i’m- what the f-fuck..” you were at a loss for words. obviously you knew what an orgasm was, you’re not an idiot. this time was different than all of the other times you had willingly explored there on your own. it was something so much stronger, so much better. “i know, bunny. go ahead pretty girl… cum for me.” he spoke, muffled against your juices and folds.

his command was all it took for you to feel a strong coil within your stomach snap, and your mouth formed a silent ‘O,’ shape as your body shook in pleasure and you saw white spots all over your vision. your orgasm washed over you like a crashing wave, your desperate and pathetic fingers digging into the soft handcuffs you still wore.

“deku? ‘m tired now…” you mumbled in response to him unzipping his pants and undoing your handcuffs. “already?” he said playfully, but his face was nothing but serious. you nodded and hummed quietly in response as he looked down at you, noting how angelic you looked in this warm lighting that he had set up throughout the room using small lamps, cozy lights, and candles. not real candles, of course- what if you got burned when he wasn’t there?

“we’re not done yet, pretty girl. on your knees.” he looked down at you as he stood at the foot of the bed, watching you crawl over to him. you looked up at him, unsure of what to do next. “why am i here?” his eyes widened in realization that you actually didn’t know what to do this time, and it only made him more excited and honored to be your first. he pulled his pants down a little more, revealing his black boxers and a huge bulge.

“go ahead, take it out.” you hesitantly reached towards the bulge and pulled his boxers down, his large and throbbing member springing up and slapping you right in the nose. “ow…” you mumbled to yourself, and deku laughed. “fuck, you’re so cute. now take it in your hands and pump it a few times, use that pretty mouth.”

you ran your fingers across the tip, not knowing how much that stimulated him. after hearing a soft grunt when you ran your thumb across the tip, dragging his pre-cum along a large vein down the base, you assumed it was a good thing. your eyes explored the strange new thing as he took a fist of your hair. you looked up at him and winced at the sudden sting in your scalp.

“suck on it, bunny. use your mouth.” he repeated again, growing impatient. you grew determined to make him feel good too, all thoughts of fighting back leaving your mind. your hand nearly wrapped around his entire girth, but he was too thick for your smaller hands to do so. once again, hesitantly, you kitten-licked the tip a few times as his eyes shut calmly for a moment. your warm mouth wrapped around the tip as he basked in the feeling of the wetness, you released it with an unintentional pop.

“like this?” you asked innocently as he looked down to watch you suck his length, moving down slowly as you attempted to take all of him in your mouth. you could only go halfway before he hit the back of your throat, and when you gagged cutely around him, the grip on your hair tightened and a quiet whimper escaped the back of his throat. you picked up the pace in response and sucked even more furiously as best as you could, repeatedly gagging and hollowing your cheeks. “y-yeah… aauhh, jus’ like that, bunny.”

you continued your sucking and gentle pumping and tongue swirling around him as he continued to yank at your hair and admire your tear stained face and saliva covered mouth and throat. “aah.. yer’ sure you’ve n-never.. mgh, done this before?” he struggled to speak due to his many grunts and moans.

you nodded quietly as you felt him harden and pulsate in your mouth, repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. he suddenly pulled your hair, hard, and you winced loudly. he got down to your level and cleaned your face using his hand and dragged a thumb across your lip, consumed in the way tears pricked at your eyes just for him. “wh-what was that for? ‘m not done.” you muttered, reaching towards his cock when he stopped you with a chuckle and a deranged grin.

“like it that much, hm? we’re not done yet, bunny. don’t worry.” you tilted your head, your eyes then widening. “y-you mean, we’re gonna..” you trailed off as he gently pushed you down by your shoulders onto you back, crawling on top of you and hovering over your body. he cupped your cheek with one large hand and used his knee to spread your thighs apart. he clicked his tongue and trailed kisses from your jaw down your neck to between the valley of your breasts, looking up at you with his emerald green orbs.

“don’t act clueless, bunny. i know you’ve thought about getting touched down here by a real man.” he chuckled, slapping his length against your cunt two times, causing you to jump. “d-deku, please don-” your own words were caught in your throat when he slid the first few centimeters in, causing you to gasp and tug roughly on your handcuffs. “g-get off.. aauh..” you whimpered, attempting to push him off of you, clearly doing nothing. you fought the growing sting in your velvety walls as he slowly inched in. 

“its okay, pretty girl. a little bit at a time..” he whispered into your ear, causing your walls to clench around his first few inches, to which he smirked and nibbled on your jaw.  “that’s it... good girl.” he praised as he filled you up completely. deku was so overwhelmed with the pleasure of his bunny wrapped around his cock, and the reality that he was your first that he forgot to wait for you to adjust before pulling out and thrusting back in.

“deku!” you cried out in pain as his eyes widened and he immediately wrapped his arms around you, hugging you into his chest. “i’m so sorry,” he rapidly apologized over and over again, claiming he lost control and would wait now. “i-it hurts...” you muttered into his neck before nodding a minute later, signalling he could now move. he slowly pulled out and thrust back in, his tip barely brushing up against your cervix. he moved once more and a swirling pool of pleasure slowly took over any remnants of pain. 

“mmph.. faster, deku.” you mewled out his nickname that you’ve had for him since you were little, and his heart picked up the pace before looking into your eyes and drowning in your expression as he slid in and out of you, your walls pulsating tightly around him, your thighs and his balls now soaked in your juices. “fuck... aauh, you’re such a good fucking girl for me, hah.” he said in a cocky tone, now slamming into you relentlessly.

“while we’re here,” he said, his pace growing sloppier by the second. “let’s get one thing crystal clear.” he continued, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to look at his flushed face, his cock still pounding into your sloppy cunt, the lewd noises of him fucking you filling the room. “you’re mine, all fucking mine. this fucking pussy,” he said, punctuating his sentence with a light slap against your folds. “this body, that cute little expression in your eyes, and everything else about you belongs to me. not that blue-eyed shit-faced bitch.” he raised his voice causing you to flinch.

“we’re clear with that, aren’t we?” he asked as your eyes rolled into the back of your head due to him continuously hitting that spot with the tip of his member. “hey,” he growled, bringing a throat to your neck and squeezing it tightly, completely cutting off your oxygen. you clawed at his hand as best as you could despite your handcuffs, and your face grew a bright pink and almost purple. he hated slapping you or choking you or tying you up, and he hated himself for getting excited at that fearful look in your glistening eyes. he released his grip on your throat and you gasped desperately for air, glaring at him. “fucking answer me.” 

“y-yeah, mhnm...” you moaned out, still recovering from being choked. your pussy clenched around him as you felt your second, much stronger, orgasm nearing. he felt his own nearing as well, your beautiful moans not helping in holding him back. “yeah, what?” he smirked, knowing he was pushing your limits. “y-yeah, we’re ..mhgn, clear!” you yelled in frustration as he got a kick out of it, enjoying the idea of you thinking you could raise your voice at him. 

“you know what?” he pulled out rapidly, cumming all over your stomach before lying beside you, leaving you empty and unsatisfied. “wh-what?” you stuttered in shock and irritation, grinding your thighs together for some type of friction as you angrily yanked on your handcuffs. “now...” he kissed the tip of your nose and smiled at you brightly, as if all of this was amusing. “you don’t get to finish!” he exclaimed happily, giggling shortly after as you struggled and tugged at your restraints. 

“why?” you questioned the green-haired man, who said nothing. he wrapped a strong arm around your needy body and fought the urge to play with your clit using his fingertips. “why, deku? this isn’t fair!’ you whined as he chuckled dryly and tightened the soft handcuffs. “nothing is fair, my love. i have another shift now, so i’ll be gone for a few hours. need anything?” he asked in a condescending tone, knowing you would motion towards your dripping, aching cunt, which he wouldn’t help you with. he didn’t care to help your needy pussy.

he got up and grabbed the silver key he used to previously lock the basement door, glancing back at your distressed eyes one more time before leaving and slamming the door shut. 

“maybe next time you won’t get some silly idea in that pretty little head of yours that you can raise your voice with me.” 

[sukirichi]

earned it [06]

Gojo Satoru is a firm believer that if you work hard for it then you shall earn it. But on the other side, he’s not unfamiliar with his own sins. He also believes that there is punishment due for his sins as he’s earned it.

cw. attempted murder and suicide, angst ig i feel nothing at this point because NAOYA 😭

notes. i’m rolling with the earned it jokes that reader is shippable with everyone so HAH enjoy this chapter because I didn’t enjoy the last LMAO (IM SO EXCITED FOR TOJI TO APPEAR!)

series masterlist

Your muscles throbbed, the pounding of your heart felt even through your skin. You’ve spent hours in the training room, taking punch by punch, landing blow by blow – yet no matter how hard you tried, you kept falling on your ass. At this point, your backside was beyond sore, skin drenched with sweat and clothes sticking uncomfortably to the surface. Meanwhile, your ‘savior’ barely felt the need to catch his breath, instead gazing down at you with disappointment written all over his face.

“Why do you expect so much from me?” you panted, fists clenched on the mat. “Didn’t you tell me you just needed me to get your money back and that’s it? I didn’t ask for you to do anything so stop telling me I’m indebted to you all the time.”

Naoya clicked his tongue, clearly disappointed by your lack of resolve. Above you, he swept up his cane and finally balanced himself. You previously thought he didn’t struggle because he looked so calm and composed, easily overpowering you even with his injury, but his lips were strained, jaw clenched tight that perhaps he was just good at concealing his pain. It made you shut up and watch his every move; his back faced you – probably to hide whatever fleeting moment of vulnerability he had.

“I won’t always be there to save your sorry life,” he said calmly, “You need to learn how to be strong on your own no matter how tough it gets. Now if you’ll keep complaining instead of finishing your training, I could happily lock you up and force you to do my dirty work for me.”

“Then why don’t you go ahead?!”

“I don’t want to,” Naoya responded without missing a beat. He easily closed the distance with a few staggered steps, his head tilted to the side as he surveyed you.

You wondered what went through his mind. Did he see a weak woman? A woman who must be so helpless, so useless that you stayed there, legs too tired and muscles aching too much you couldn’t move? There was no telling with Naoya, and his guarded gaze didn’t help either. Satoru had always been difficult to read at most, but with Naoya – it was practically impossible.

Even as he cupped your chin and twisted it sideways, his eyes narrowed over all your features like he saw something you didn’t, he was too guarded.

“I need you in taking down Gojo Satoru. In order to accomplish that, I have to use his weakness against him. You showing up won’t be enough. No, I want to hurt him…and what better way than to take what was once his, right? Dangle right in front of his eyes what he let go of, make him regret his actions?” his smile turned dark, and for the first time since you’ve met him, you got a glance of what his heart really looked like.

It wasn’t true that Naoya was heartless – no, he just had a dark, sinister heart that didn’t beat the same tune as others. He played his own music with the bones of his enemies, drinking their lifeline from a gold cup and drowning in them, his ominous laughter the perfect antithetical melody of what could’ve been angelic hums.

“Don’t you want that?”

His question made your heart skipped a beat. This whole time, you’ve been so hell bent on achieving something, but what you wanted to reach had never been clear. You were too driven by emotions, by the pain Satoru’s absence had caused, and now that the opportunity was presented before you, you faltered.

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Well, if you ask me what I want…” he tilts your chin up with his finger “It would be to see you strong enough that even you would be capable of taking me down. So be strong, keep fighting – I’ll be there with you every step of the way. You only have one job, and that is to live. I am not allowing you to give up at the slightest of minor inconveniences.”

“And if I get weak?” you questioned with an oscillating tremor, the bite of his cold skin against your heated ones spiking. “If I want to give up? Would I fail you then?”

“I don’t think you’re someone who cares about failing others, so don’t fret whether you’d please me or not,” Just like that, Naoya’s scornful tone had risen again. He let go of you until you dropped down to your palms, blinking back at the sudden change of atmosphere. “Like I said, just do what you need to do, keep going. Don’t look back or be afraid to take the next big step because I’ll always be there right beside you.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’m not asking you to, princess,” he snickered, already half way to the door that only he was allowed to go in. Even though you’ve been staying in his manor for quite some time, there were still some things Naoya didn’t trust you with, leaving you only more curious to find out the secrets within.

“Only time will tell. But once you’ve made your decision, know that my ring is always waiting beside your table,” his voice echoed through the large room, stopping in his tracks to look at you once more. This time, he had no haunting features, only the cold emptiness likened to staring back to an infinite void of nothingness.

“I expect an answer when I get home.”

You still remembered the day you decided to wear his ring. Naoya had come then, tired and aggravated from matters he didn’t bother explaining. You stood on his doorway, lips shut tight as you nervously fiddled with your ring, unsure if whether you should tell him or allow him to piece the puzzle himself.

Thankfully, Naoya was a lot more observant than you gave him credit for.

His eyes slid over your face before he followed the motion of your fingers, smirking as the jewel glinted under the bright lights of his home. Wise choice, he’d once told you, and you believed it.

Your life hadn’t been the same ever since. Your spontaneous marriage equated to hellish training of perfecting your image as his trophy wife, spending hours in his secret laboratory and discussing business plans through a glass of wine. Naoya wasn’t around much to teach you everything and it pained him to be your own trainer too so you had to ask help from his guards, refusing to give up and fall down even as your muscles screamed at you to take a break. For Naoya, with Naoya, giving up and running away felt like a myth; a buried solution in the past that should never be brought up again. But now that he was gone, you did exactly that.

You’d given up. Satoru had made you run away.

“Miss,” a deep voice cut you from your thoughts. You tore your gaze away from the  glowing night city of Milan to turn to Satoru’s right hand man, the tall figure looming rather shyly instead of imposingly. “You haven’t eaten since we got here. Would you like anything? Mr. Gojo will cover your expenses.”

“I want to go home.”

He froze at your deadpan statement. Finally meeting your gaze under his lashes, Geto pursed his lips. “You know we can’t do that, Miss. It’s unsafe back in Japan.”

“And who’s to say Toji won’t follow us here?” you snapped, pushing your weight off the Cleopatra set and uncrossing your legs. “Why can’t your stupid boss just activate the account and give it back to us? I think we’ve made it clear we’re more than capable of handling our finances, and I’m pretty sure Satoru doesn’t need any more money when he can afford all this.”

“Mr. Gojo…has his reasons for everything he does.”

You laughed bitterly. Maybe it was the fact that Satoru had left this morning for whatever business he had that you didn’t have anyone else to let your anger out to that you’d swiped your gun under your thigh holster and dashed his way.

Geto’s back slammed against the wall, the cool barrel of your gun pressed to his jaw. He swallowed nervously, eyes darting to your weapon, and you laughed heartlessly. “Oh, please, do tell because nothing makes sense,” you crooned, flipping the safety off and letting your heated gaze meet his rather docile ones. You almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“I could easily put a bullet through your head and hijack his plane. I’ll be gone before you know it and who’s to stop me from doing that? Why should I stay here any longer with you?”

“Because your husband asked you to,” Geto responded softly. You stepped back with wide eyes, yesterday’s event crashing all over you once again. He must’ve sensed you no longer held any hostility because he used his pointer finger to move the barrel away from him, gently peeling your hands off his suit. “Because you know, if you go back to Japan, there will be nothing waiting for you there.”

You balled your fists. “I will kill Fushiguro Toji myself. Then I’ll kill Satoru.”

“Even if he used to be your lover?”

“Especially because he used to be my lover.”

Okay…maybe your plan of escaping and returning to Japan hadn’t worked out that well. Exhaustion finally crept up to your senses that you passed out not long after attacking Geto – who reassured you to no end he wasn’t mad you tried to kill him – and days have passed ever since. You hated to admit it, but being stuck in an overseas hotel wasn’t so bad. Geto’s presence was a lot more comforting than his master’s that you didn’t mind having him watch your every move. Plus, he was really nice to immediately follow your every whim. You wanted hot chocolate? Extra pillows? A really expensive wine that you refused to pay for because you were petty and dramatic? He provided it all without question.

Except he probably should have, because you’d stripped off to your underwear, head tipped back to take one final swig of the nearly empty bottle as you slid deeper into the tub.

Your fiery nature of rolling your eyes at Satoru every time he came around (which was rare, for some reason) couldn’t fool anyone – not even yourself. The moment Geto retired to the living room, you would bite the pillows to muffle your cries, thinking back to when Naoya was still alive. It was an endless torment of what if you had stayed, what if you had pushed the rubble off him, what if you just saved him?

Would he still be alive? Would he have survived? Would you be back with him in the Zen’in Estate instead of holding your breath under the tub in a desperate attempt to conceal your tears?

It hurt so bad. It hurt everywhere.

Your lungs begged you to rise up and breathe, but you stayed still under the water, eyes shut tight and hands clenched around the tub’s edges so hard your knuckles turned white. Soon, you grew dizzy and your grip slipped away. Finally, fucking finally, you were falling, falling way too deep that your legs bent inside the tub. Bubbles erupted from your lips in one last breath. At the back of your mind, you let out a sincere laugh for you’d meet your husband soon. He’d be disappointed, probably scold you all the way to the afterlife – until strong arms pulled you out of the tub and into someone’s chest instead.

“Shit, what are you doing?! You could’ve drowned!”

You coughed out water and fisted Satoru’s button-up shirt that had now clung to his skin from the water. Looking around you, you were still very much alive, the uncomfortable twisting of your heart a painful reminder of that. Above you, Satoru sat you in his lap while he remained cross-legged on the floor, muttering curses under his breath as he wrapped a towel around you.

Scoffing, you pushed his hands away, though you kept the towel anyway to lessen your shivering. Why the fuck was the AC so damn strong here?

“Dying seems like a better option, don’t you think?” you snarled at him, teeth chattering from the chill that had begin to seep in.

Momentarily, you worried on how much of a hot mess you probably looked like. Smudged eyeliner, wine-stained lips, unbrushed hair and remnants of the wine mixing with the once clear bath water – you shook your head at the thought and glared at Satoru.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“I was out contacting friends to ask for help. We’re going to need a hundred pairs of eyes watching anywhere that Toji could possibly come through.”

“Is this your pathetic idea of ‘keeping me safe’? Locking me up in this stupid hotel and having your man watch me all the time?” you pushed yourself off him, the sudden motion of standing up giving you wobbly legs. Satoru reached over to steady you but you slapped his hand away, your glare warning him to not take another step.

Seeing his face, seeing him worried as if he didn’t just cause your life to turn into absolute hell, you wanted to grab the wine bottle and smash it right at his pretty face. He had no right to look at you with pity.

You hated him, utterly and terribly despised this man with your entire being.

“What are you really planning, Satoru? Why can’t we just come back home and attack Toji with all we’ve got? Why don’t you just give back our fucking money so we can end all this for once and for all and I can leave?!”

“Because I don’t have the money!”

“What?”

“The money…” Satoru’s back slid off the wall, his palm coming up to thread through his hair. He sounded weak, defeated. “I don’t have it.”

“Gojo,” you snatched him by the collar, teeth bared as you demanded, “What do you mean you don’t have it?”

Satoru paled. “When I stole the money from the Zen’ins, the figures were all fake. They’re not real, there’s no actual money hidden behind their accounts and it was too late before I realized that,” his lips trembled as he continued, “Whatever Toji placed in there, it’s not his actual account where he hides everything and it would make sense too because I stole it too easily – almost as if they wanted me to take it. A few hacks here and there and it was immediately wired to me but after meeting you…” Satoru shook his head, chin dropped down low. “I checked again and the account never existed. It’s a fake one. The digits are just there for show.”

“So then why would Toji want it? Why did my husband have to die for nothing?!”

“I don’t know, okay, I don’t know anything!” he argued back until your faces grew closer, his nose brushing with yours.

Somehow, you couldn’t pull away. His knees had drawn up, forcing you to rest on his thighs as you both breathed heavily, your grip on his collar almost havered.

“Whatever the Zen’ins are hiding, that’s beyond me. I may be in the business for far longer than they have, but they have always been notorious with their possessions that I’m not surprised even I can’t find where it really leads back to. Whatever Toji is hiding there, your husband must’ve known something about it. Why else would they fight tooth and bone over it?”

“If there was, Naoya would’ve told me about it.”

“He would if he trusted you,” Satoru suddenly grabbed your wrist and shook it until you stared at your ring. “How are you even so sure he could trust you with that information? Have you forgotten you’re just a pawn to his game and you’re nothing but a bed warmer?”

“Don’t you ever speak about us that way. You don’t know how much he cared for me.”

“If he really did, then why didn’t he tell you why his cousin is after you? He’s using you as bait, Y/N. I’m not the bad guy here. That man you’re so deeply in love with? I can’t guarantee he’s better than me. We’re all men in the mafia, love is the last thing we would care about.”

You pushed yourself off him.

His words stung too much, not because it was a lie, but because you know there was some sort of truth ringing behind it. You trudged out of the bathroom and sat on the bed, unstirred by the fact you dripped all over the carpeted floor. From behind you, Satoru’s rushed footsteps echoed, but you didn’t care. You simply threw on a robe with your back turned to him.

“And you’d know that better than everyone right? Considering how easy it was for you to leave me?” When Satoru didn’t respond, you chuckled humorlessly and sat on the bed. “What Naoya and I had…it was a friendship that healed my soul. I don’t…I don’t know what to do without him.”

“Friendship?”

You smiled sadly. “I wasn’t actually in love with him, idiot. Men like Naoya don’t know what love is, but he sure does know how to protect family.”

The notion of talking about him, of accepting that maybe he really was gone…somewhat reliving.

Satoru was the last person you wanted to talk to your late husband about, but Geto – which is the much better company – wasn’t around, and you hugged your knees to yourself, refusing to let Satoru see through your vulnerability.

“You know, I trusted him more than I did myself. He was always there for me, no matter what. His soul was dark, angry, corrupted – he’s not the man I would fall for, but despite all that, he was the friend I needed,” you buried your face in your knees, voice muffled as you cried, your heart shattering again and again and again.

The ring on your finger had never felt so heavy ever since you wore it.

“I loved him as much as I hated you.”

Satoru was silent, so much so that you wondered if he was even in the same room at all. You sat there crying, too hopeless to even try to conceal it anymore. Shivering, you close your eyes and forced the image of Naoya’s last moments away from your memories, desperately praying to whoever had mercy that you could just forget all about it.

“Geto told me you tried to kill him,” Satoru murmured after a beat, “You could’ve easily escaped and went back to Japan if you wanted to, so why didn’t you? Was it because of me?”

You remembered what you tried to do today.

Just like that, Naoya was alive once more. You were brought back to the day of your wedding when he’d clasped your sweaty, clammy hands in his, rubbing some warmth in them before pressing a kiss at the top of your knuckles. He’d asked you to promise him something then – an entire contrast from his constants orders over your well-being – and it was a promise you’d momentarily forgotten; a promise you’d broken out of mourning.

“Naoya once told me,” you reminisced through dry, cracked lips and even more shattered heart, the picture of his disappointment as clear as day. “Death was the only place he can go where he would never allow me to follow.”

It took a lot, but it somehow got better. After allowing yourself a faint moment of weakness where Naoya resurfaced in your mind to remind you of our promise and your purpose, you felt stronger, somewhat steadier with each step you took. You were still wary around Satoru, although that was a given.

His friend, Geto, was really nice, on the other hand, and you couldn’t explain why you always lowered your guard around the formal dark-haired assistant.

You and Geto were playing chess when Satoru barged in out of nowhere, a plate and a syrup condenser on his hand. “So I got you breakfast,” was his greeting, nodding at Geto once as a silent order to give you two privacy. You pouted as the latter left, but soon your attention had been diverted to the heavenly aroma filling in your senses. Seeing your approval, Satoru hid a smile behind his dark sunglasses. “Still like pancakes?”

“Trying to get into my good graces now?”

“I’m just trying to cheer you up.”

You rolled your eyes but snatched the plate from him anyway. “So I talked to my lawyer,” you begun, pouring syrup all over the fluffy bread until it was almost spilling to the sides. Beside you, Satoru’s snickers were barely muffled, to which you ignored wholeheartedly. “They’ve already processed my inheritance over Naoya’s possessions and assets. Once we return to Japan, I’ll be the next leader of the Zen’in Clan, much to the disappointment of his elders, of course, but they can’t do anything about it,” you informed him with your fork hanging in mid-air, the words falling thickly. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“That we’re back to being enemies?”

You offered him a sarcastic smile. “Naoya lied about strengthening his alliance with your family. He doesn’t actually give a fuck about you.”

“I figured that much,” he snickered to himself, shifting his weight until his elbows rested on his thighs. “Listen…a friend of mine is flying to Milan tonight to meet us. They have strong connections with banks all over the world and they brought in some information about that hidden Zen’in account. I think we’re finally getting off to somewhere and finding out what really is in there,” Satoru gauged for your reaction, but you kept eating – more like stuffing the pancakes inside your mouth for you were finally free of having to act perfect without your husband.

Satoru’s hand landed on top of yours. “I promise…I’ll give it back to right where it belongs. As soon as it’s wired back to you, I’m setting you free.”

You stared at the unwanted figure over you, and you snatched your hand back, waving a bread knife below his lashes. “You can’t set me free when I was never yours,” you sang breathily, the tip of the blade hovered right at his lips. Satoru raised a brow at you, but you quickly retrieved the knife back with widened eyes. “Now that you mention it…I think Naoya told me something about his family stashing secret weapons and even heirlooms through offshore accounts and buried under islands. He was a little sleepy during that time but I remember it,” pushing the plate away from you as you lost your appetite, you clutched your palms under your chin in thought. “He said he was looking for something he lost as a child, possibly an heirloom.”

“He’s doing all this for heirlooms?” Satoru immediately coughed his words back when you glared at him, raising his hands in surrender. “I mean, I was just saying. I didn’t think he was a sentimental type of guy.”

“The question here is what both Toji and Naoya could’ve both wanted from that account. It’s not just an heirloom, obviously there’s something there worth more than money,” You argued and slapped your knees, heading straight to your (unfortunately) shared room. “Whatever. I’ll get this over with as soon as I get the money back.”

Satoru, as always, was hot on your heels. It annoyed you how he trailed over you like some sort of puppy or shadow – Naoya had always been too classy to not give you space.

The difference between them just kept getting more and more uncannily obvious.

“Whoa there, stop. Did you really think I’d give back the money to you and that’s it? Are you forgetting the fact Toji is out there to kill you just so he can have his hands on it?”

“He can have the money for all I fucking care,” you shrugged and sat on your bed, scrolling through numerous piles of emails and records that Naoya entrusted you to keep. Surely you could find something. “I just need to find whatever Naoya’s spent his whole life killing for.”

“Why don’t you care about the money? Didn’t Naoya expect you to take over his business?”

Your thumb froze over a file. Suddenly, your throat grew dry, and you quickly flashed Satoru a stinky eye. “I-it’s not my main concern.”

“It’s not safe for you. If Toji finds out—”

Got it. You bookmarked an email Naoya had forwarded you around three years ago and resent it to an old friend, pocketing the phone back to your pyjamas before Satoru could see. “I’ll handle it. I’ve been doing well so far before you came into our lives again,” you finalized, stopping for a bit as you waited for that all-too familiar footfall matching with yours, only for the room to be coated in silence.

Satoru stood there on the other side of the room, eyes deep in thought before he sighed. “I’ll meet you at the hotel restaurant tonight. We have a lot to discuss on what our next move should be,” nodding once, Satoru left the room.

The hotel room was eerily silent.

Dinner came around faster than you expected. With Geto out to run some errands for Satoru, something about ‘establishing bases’ or whatever, you were locked in your room, using Naoya’s black card to get enough amount of clothing to last you for your stay here. Even though Satoru had promised he’d take care of everything, you didn’t want to be in his debt for any longer. You weren’t his, you were Naoya’s, and you shot down his curious looks when heaps of shopping bags had been delivered to your door.

An hour later, you left the room, struggling to zipper the back of your dress. Satoru was already in the living room buttoning up his suit jacket, just as handsome as ever (though you’d never tell him that.)

His hands froze in the last button once his eyes landed on you, and you huffed at him, too distressed to even act cute or bothered while pointing to your dress. Satoru strode to you in three long steps, his cold fingers brushing against the dip of your spine when he clutched on the zipper.

You had to bite your lip down to prevent the shivers from spilling through, his lips dangerously close to your ear as he whispered, “You look great.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

If Satoru was bothered by the lack of sincerity in your voice, he didn’t comment on it. He removed his hands from you and watched as you slipped black velvet gloves through your arms – just in case you had to end up killing someone; leaving fingerprints was a risk you couldn’t take.

“Did you really get dressed to kill?”

“I came here to negotiate,” you corrected, “I’ll do everything I can to find out whatever’s behind that offshore account. And you, sir,” Frowning at him, you pulled Satoru closer by the tie, perhaps a little too harshly since he nearly knocked his head with yours. He was quick to steady himself as you fixed his tie, flattening it down with your fingers. “You need to know where you should stick your nose in. This is more my business than yours so don’t get in my way acting all hero and shit. I assure you I can handle myself.”

“You’re really going to berate me for worrying about you?”

“You can no longer worry about me,” you disclosed, snatching your black purse from the counter before doing the come hither motion at his shock-still figure. “Now let’s go. We have a case to crack.”

“Case to crack? You sure sound like a detective.”

You snickered, but made no further comment. The elevators dinged and you arrived at the restaurant, which you really regretted not visiting soon enough because the place was grand. Red carpeted floors, golden chandeliers, soft jazz music playing in the background as the lights dimmed down low, the faint clinking of utensils against plates and light chatter of the guests so heartbreakingly nostalgic.

It seemed that even after his death, Naoya had every intention to never leave your side. The setting reminded you too much of your never-ending late night fancy dinners.

Naoya being Naoya, he didn’t blink twice in flaunting his money and renting out entire restaurants all for himself, claiming that he just ‘wanted to have an intimate moment with his wife.’ Sure, it mostly consisted of you discussing what move you should make next, but it was the most affectionate gesture you’ve received after spending years in the quiet and cold environment of the Zen’in Estate.

The outside world wasn’t any better when you and Naoya were marked as targets by the entire government, so it made sense, that only with him that you’d find comfort in.

You must be so out of it you never even noticed Satoru leading you to your seat, a warm meal that should’ve been comforting right under your nose. It was too much – too similar that you headed straight for the wine, ignoring Satoru’s questioning gaze. You noticed from the corner of his eye that he opened his mouth too many times in an attempt to make light conversation, but this dinner wasn’t for you to rekindle your old flame.

No, you were here to wait for his ‘friend’ and review important matters. You were determined to fulfill that purpose alone and only that alone that you never once made eye contact with him, even standing up to reach the salt shaker near him instead of asking him to pass it.

Just as you leaned back to your seat, the music grew louder. A foreign man walked to the stage where he was basked in the spotlight, all heads turning to him when he tapped the microphone, sending little echoes all over the hall. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s loosen up tonight with a drink and bring our lovers out here on the dance floor,” he sang while swaying side to side, snapping his fingers to the beat that had turned into calming to sensual. “It is a fine evening, isn’t it? Come on, don’t be shy, the night is still so young!”

You dropped your fork beside the plate. “Did you know about this?”

“I swear, I had no idea.”

“Those two attractive lovers in table 42, the dance floor is still much too spacious!”

“Pretty vulgar for a five star hotel,” you commented under your breath and dabbed the pasta sauce off your lips with a napkin, slapping it down the table as you stood up – much to Satoru’s surprise who’d tried to make himself invisible from the host’s eyes. Stupid him; did he really think he could blend in with his sunglasses and snow white hair?

If you were to be honest, you’d rather choke on shrimp than dance with him, but you had an image to upkeep. If you couldn’t gather with the crowd and pretend to be one with others, both your true natures would be fished out even with innocent eyes. You were left with no choice but to be comfortable in the dance floor, sighing deeply as you placed your hands down on Satoru’s wide shoulders. He furrowed his brows at you but said nothing else; strong, cautious hands sliding down from your back before they settled at the curve of your hips.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Mister. I won’t hesitate to stab a fork through your jugular right here.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know you’re not my little angel anymore.”

Angel. It was what he used to call you back then – when you were still but an innocent, naïve being who never believed in monsters until you fell for one.

He was right; you were no longer his angel. The woman he loved had been left abandoned in the street, the purity of her soul tainted with anger and heartbreak that soon bathed in blood and the need for revenge. His angel was no more – the woman he danced with was nothing but a replica of the face and body he adored the most. Now, you danced with him, not as his angel and neither as his rival’s wife, but simply as a woman whose kindness had long vanished into thin air.

Satoru danced with the devil.

And he should be disgusted just as you should be repulsed with how sickeningly smooth and graceful he was in everything he did, but the wine – yes, it was the fucking wine – messed with you that you actually enjoyed it. Your bodies moved in rhythm and syncopated with the beat, the romantic high notes of the violin and the tender embrace of deep trebles like a classical painting coming to life and you were its subjects to be expressed.

Perhaps…you were just sad. You grieved and mourned too much you’d momentarily forgot what love was, in turn making you forget what it felt like to be constantly unsafe and peeking over your shoulder in case someone tried to kill you.

Satoru just felt so warm, so safe and alive that you found your head dipping lower, your muscles relaxing around his soothing and undeniably tender touch, the space between your bodies diminishing until you surrendered to the power of your desire. You were so close, your ear about to press on his chest to listen to the blissful sound of someone’s reassuring heartbeat along with the music, and then you saw him.

A tuft of blonde hair, a chiseled face, a nude cream suit and a deep blue shirt beneath – what the fuck was he doing here?

The spell was broken in an instant.

Satoru must’ve been under the same trance for his hand trailed lower to pull you closer, your chests grazing with one another before you placed your palm flat on his body, lips thinned into a grim look that resonated with the sick, twisting feeling in your guts.

“I,” you croaked out, clearing your throat when it went dry. “I need to go to the ladies.”

You left Satoru without another word, bunching your dress up to run to where he had disappeared. He was still walking coolly and inspecting the paintings hung in the empty lobby with faux interest – although knowing him, the bastard probably did enjoy classical pieces and studied about them in his free time; which he didn’t have much to begin with.

As if sensing your presence, he stopped right in front of a replica of The Sleeping Venus, his hands dug deep in his pockets. “The shape of being is the visual demonstration of a state of being in which idealized existence is suspended in immutable slow-breathing harmony. All the sensuality has been distilled off from this sensuous presence, and all incitement; Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself,” he narrates in his baritone voice, “A little cordial, is it not?”

You took your gun out from your thigh holster and lowered it right at the back of his skull. “Don’t move another inch.”

“No need to be so hostile in a public setting, Y/N. I’m only here to look out for you and making sure you’re not forgetting who you are. Killing me isn’t part of the plan.”

“Neither was murdering my husband,” you growled, pushing the barrel harder against him, though the man didn’t budge before you. “I know that it wasn’t Toji who set off the bomb, Kento, you did.”

“We simply saw an opportunity that couldn’t be wasted. Two notorious mafia leaders in an unsuspecting supposed safe environment?” The fact he didn’t even deny it left you speechless. Kento spun around until your gun rested between his eyes, and he languidly pushed his glasses up his high nose as he looked down on you. “We could’ve killed two birds with one stone had you not been in the way.”

“You guys are out to kill me too now?”

“Don’t act too surprised. The Organization isn’t patient enough to wait for both leaders to die.”

“So you killed my husband?!” you argued, “He was my friend, I told you not to touch him!”

“Only in the exchange that you hand him to us,” Kento echoed, jogging your memory until you were kept up to date. “But it’s been five years and what has happened so far? You’re fraternizing with the enemy and even manufacturing drugs for your so-called husband. Now that he’s dead, you’re here in Italy, looking as stunning as ever as you wine and dine with a former lover,” Kento tilted his head to the side to study your appearance – smiling at how you seemed too bright and fashionable for a woman in supposed mourning.

“I hardly believe you’re actually affected by this at all.”

“How dare you! I’ve proven to no end my loyalty of the higher-ups!”

Kento didn’t bat an eye at your outburst. If anything, he stepped closer to your weapon. “Kill me if you wish, Y/N, but know the moment you put a bullet in my head, the Organization will place you on the same pedestal as Naoya’s and Gojo’s. I wouldn’t recommend such methods considering we’re already at unease on whose side you’re really on. If you do this, you will be our enemy.”

“I did everything for the Organization. What else would you want from me?”

“The contract was easy. We want both leaders – whether dead or alive – in our custody. If you don’t hold your side of the deal, it’s not only your life that we’ll take from you,” Kento pulled out a red coin that made your heart sink deep into your stomach for it served as a threat over the consequences of your actions.

He lowered your gun with the coin and smirked at you, his lips right beside the shell of your ear as he purred, “I suggest you be careful with what step of action you take next.”

“Oi, Nanami, you’re here!” Satoru’s voice suddenly boomed in the hallway. Nanami was as unbothered as ever from taking a step away from you, nodding to your gun which you quickly concealed right before Satoru arrived. You were frozen – rendered immobile with the flashing red metal from his palm – that you couldn’t even protest against Satoru wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I see you’ve met Mrs. Zen’in already.”

“Hmm, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Madam,” taking your hand in his, Kento’s eyes were nothing but eerie as he kissed your knuckles. “Shall we start our discussion?”

SUKI RANTS! Nanami quoted Sydney Joseph Friedberg (an art critic) in one of his dialogues. A little backstory on the painting was that the portrait was originally made by Giorgone, who had a student and also his lover (if I’m not mistaken) called Titian. Giorgone never finished the portrait because he died from the plague but Titiane finished it for him, symbolizing that Y/N still has a mission that connected her from Naoya even after his death and she has to finish something he started. The portrait is of a nude woman that symbolized oneness of nature and that the woman isn’t posed for the gaze of men, but rather they are dreaming, hence the quote: “Venus denotes not the act of love but the recollection of it. The perfect embodiment of Giorgione’s dream, she dreams his dream herself.” Nanami said the painting’s meaning resonated with Y/N’s situation too much since she wasn’t in love with Naoya, but she had a recollection of their moments that still represented their relationship, and that Naoya’s dream (goals) are also shared by Reader. I was gonna ask you guys what your theories are on that scene but I think this makes me sound cooler if I explain it so *lip bite emoji because I’m still broken over Naoya’s death*

taglist open (lmk if you want to be added/removed):

@sixeyesgojo @shingekiyofeels @q-the-rockaholic @whatthefuckisthatthing @rogueofbullshit @kat-su-ki @kellyyween @sebootyforlife @asshxcm @charlie-xo @aoi-turtle @ladywaifuuwrites @savantsoulfinder @my-reality-is-in-my-head @hannya-quinn @90s-belladonna @tinyfrogsinmybrain @kinekyuroo @evesmores @ambiguous-something @lilith412426 @kakashiharusohma @aizawap @yumeneji @dora-the-grownup @jotazinha @themrsgojo @d34r-s4t4n @marai-t @toji-bee @hai-cool @badsadbby @stesphy @peach-buns-unicorns @misslezah @gracefullyfallinglikeanime @iwaplant​ @mikiminaccch​ @riri-marley​ | bolded users cannot be tagged

[jtsfavslut]

Desperado [GD]

Description: Grayson participates in the famous November challenge, but Y/N has made it her mission to make him fail. 

Warnings: Ahh yes...smut, cinge, idk what else 

Word Count: 2.5K+

Touch starved.

The term was an understatement for your current situation. Why? Because your boyfriend decided to participate in the famous no nut fucking November. To say you hated it was another understatement.

You despised how committed he was to it. And to make matters worse, he didn't shave either.

And you being you, you were a whore for Grayson's beard. It was mid-November so it was right where you liked it, a bit past the scruff period.

Every Time you looked at him, your core did nothing but ache. Your legs clenched at the memory of how good he felt between them, his big arms wrapped around them; Holding you close to him as he made you cum for the 4th time that night with just his fingers and mouth.

"Penny for your thoughts?" His voice ranged in your head making you shake your filthy thoughts and memories away.

"Hmm?" you hummed turning to look at him, a smirk on his face disappearing when he licked his lips, coming back short after.

"Whatcha thinking about?"

"Nothing," you shrugged it off, but he knew. Grayson was fluent when it came to your body language, knowing what everything meant, even the slightest movement.

"Nothing? You've been staring at me and cleaning your legs, you're biting your lip and you're flushed. I know that look from a mile away, Angel," he taunted, making you turn your head and look away, scoffing in response.

"It's just hot in here. You have the heat all the way up," you murmured before getting up and walking away. 

"Are you serious?"

"It's just really hot in here that's all" an idea comes to mind and you strip your hoodie.

Grayson raises an eyebrow, already knowing where you're going with this "really"

"Yeah just really hot" you take your shirt off as well, leaving you in a bra and jeans, you were about to take off your pants before he verbally stopped you.

"Angel, don't you dare," his voice was stern and rough, letting you know you were working him up.

"What? I'm not doing anything bad, I'm gonna go swim," you replied before walking away, a smirk on your face, "To each their own Bailey, to each their own,"

"Keep it up, y/l/n," he whispered but you were long gone to even hear it, your feet dipped inside the cool pool water as you looked up at the clear sky.

Your attempt was a slight fail, it was good, just not good enough to crack Grayson.

Grayson Dolan was stubborn. Maybe as stubborn as they came, you blamed that on three things; his cockiness, his ego, and the fact that his top three had an influence on his personality.

But you couldn't give it. You had made it your mission throughout the entire month of November.

It was now the last day of the month, and you needed Grayson to crack. You needed him to crack hours before the month ended. You wanted to be as close as he could, yet as far as he could. Your plan was evil, perhaps it was, but it wasn't fair that you were forced to compete in a ridiculous, immature, high-school like bet.

You were sure this plan was going to work. You felt it in your bones. You were clever enough to use one of Grayson's qualities, and a few of his traits against himself.

If there's anything that Grayson was, other than stubborn, was dominant and jealous. One wrong look from a guy and he was railing you, fucking the pretty out of you, not that it worked since in his eyes, your prettiest state was when you were fucked out. Hair frazzled into all sorts of directions, a few beads of sweat dripping down your hairline onto your forehead, mouth slightly opened as deep, tired breaths fell past your lips, sore shaking legs, chest rising up as your eyes closed. A sight only he got to see, a sight he caused.

Your skimpy blood-red dress clutched onto your body in the most perfect way, a pair of matching heels covered your perfectly pedicured feet, a pair of silver snake earrings held onto your ears, and a simple matching snake necklace adorned your neck. A silver purse completed your outfit as you applied the last bit of gloss and highlighter you needed before slipping out of your vanity, grabbing your phone before leaving your room, walking towards the couch where Grayson laid on, a pair of gray sweats, with air forces, were present on his body.

"I'll be back around 2 am, don't wait up for me," you spoke, your nails suddenly becoming more interesting than a shirtless Grayson, "Peace you," you turned to walk away before his voice suddenly stopped you, a smirk making its way on and off of your face before you turned back around to face him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, placing his phone down before sitting up straight, his once hazel eyes scanning your body up and down.

"Out, where else?" you carelessly replied as he chuckled.

"Out where? With who?" he questioned, a dry chuckle falling past your lips as you shook your head, clutching on to your purse.

"The club, with Vinnie, invited me out for some drinks," you replied, only receiving a glare and a scoff.

"Since when do you go clubbing?" he asked and you shrugged.

"Since when do you care?" you scoffed, "Anyways, he's here, I need to go, have fun," and with that, you were gone.

You were out the door, as Grayson's anger increased. Sure, he did trust you. But he also knew about your history with Vincent.

He knew everything, from how you went from best friends to fuck-buddies, to best friends again, so he felt a bit uncomfortable with you going out for drinks with someone you spent countless nights with.

Vinnie however, was aware of everything. He was your last resort. You knew how jealous Grayson got whenever he was around. Of course, he agreed, knowing how sexually active you were. He knew you couldn't last a month. He was in fact surprised you had gotten this far without touching yourself, which he knew because you told, just like you did with everything else.

"Do you think this will work?" He asked, taking a shot of the tequila he had ordered, "Like was he mad?"

"He was furious, you should've seen his face," you replied after swallowing the aged liquid, the slight burn giving you nothing but satisfaction, "He should be checking my location right about now," you giggled when the tiny typing bubble popped up in your texts with Grayson. It had been a few hours since you left, meaning Grayson was probably getting ready to bring you home and punish you for being bad and bratty.

"Hey, if he doesn't give you what you want, just know, I'm always up for you," Vinnie smirked, flashing his hand on your face, rings adore his fingers, as black nail polish perfectly laid on his nails.

"In your dreams Vincent," you playfully smacked his hand, knowing he was only playing around.

"You're right, you know? I liked you more when I had you to myself," he scoffed, shaking his head, taking another shot letting out a groan at the taste.

"Oh please V, I'm sure you have plenty of entertainment around," you rolled your eyes as you stared at his hands.

Oh, how you wished Grayson would accomplish your wishes of painting his nails black, but he claimed it was simply not his style. Of course, you understood, but you still wanted him to do it, it was, after all, something you found incredibly attractive.

"Not really, no one offers what I need, you know? They all like that vanilla shit, with the aftercare and soft shit,"

"But you did that with me?" you asked confused but he just shook his head.

"Because it's you. You gave me what I needed. But anyways, your boy toy is here," he spoke as he noticed Grayson walk in. An angry look on his face as he caught a glimpse of your back and Vinnie’s face.

"Ughh, finally," you scoffed as your core throbbed, your mind suddenly imaging certain scenarios on how Grayson would take you.

"What are you doing here?" You asked as soon as you felt his presence next to you, his cologne slapping you on the face.

"I came to pick you up and take you home," he said, no emotion laced with his voice, you mentally rolled your eyes.

Your hand reached up to Vincent's, intertwining your fingers with his before letting out a whine, "But we just started to have fun,"

"I don't care. We're leaving," he spoke before leaning down close to your ear, "You're gonna get it as soon as we get in the car,"

"Ughh fine. You're so boring. You should take a shot or two sometime," you dramatically sighed before letting go of Vinnie's hands and grabbing your phone and purse, "I'll see you another time V, love you, take care," you said, sending him a smirk in an angle that Grayson couldn't see.

"Love you too, don't do anything I wouldn't do," he waved you off as Grayson carefully dragged you out of the establishment. He had parked his car in an empty and abandoned parking lot, having a plan thought out for when he arrived at where you were at.

He opened the back door of his Tesla, before throwing you inside, making sure you wouldn't get hurt, but wanting the message that he was upset to get across, "You think you're funny? Acting like a whore, wearing a slutty outfit to go out with Vinnie? Teasing me all fucking month long, acting like a fucking bitch," he spoke as his fingers came in contact with your jaw, squeezing it in the most perfect way.

Never in his life did Grayson think he would call a woman a whore. But when you came along, you brought a Pandora's box with you. He wasn't sure degrading a female would get him laid, but you introduced it to him, at first it was weird, but he took a liking to it, only with you.

"I didn't do anything," you pouted against his hand, making his other hand squeeze your hip.

"Did I tell you to speak?"

"You asked," you scoffed, eyes widening as a burning sensation spread over your thigh, followed by a moan.

"Open," he muttered, tightening his grip on your jaw, making you open your mouth before he leaned down, doing something you thought Grayson Dolan would never do, "Swallow," he muttered after spitting in your mouth. You did what he said, no questions asked, and no ounce of hesitation in your body, "good girl," he whispered before moving down to between your legs.

His hands explored your legs before you felt a couple of cold things making you look down to find a couple of rings on his fingers, yet no nail polish.

"You wanna behave like a whore, I'll treat you like one," he smirked at your facial expression, he was loving every single second of what was happening, "Mouth of fingers? Never mind, you don't get to choose, don't you dare make a sound," he muttered before pulling down your underwear.

Your body slightly jumped and the long-awaited feeling of his fingers. You bit your lip, feeling so touched that just the slightest feeling of his two fingers spreading your arousal around, "Look at you, so desperate, and wet. It's pathetic," he chuckled making you shake your head before throwing it back as he slowly slipped a finger in, just one, feeling satisfied as you spread your legs and threw your head back, he added another one, and you felt out a whine, earning a thigh smack from him, "I said no sounds,"

He dipped his head down, just feeling the presence of his mouth near you pussy was enough to make you bite your lip, and hold back a moan as he pressed soft kissed on the inside of your legs, fingers wholly moving in and out of you, until he finally placed a soft kiss on your clit, and started moving his fingers faster.

You quickly moved your hand up to your lips, muffling any sound and moan that slipped out. The feeling of euphoria and ecstasy spread quickly over your body, and a knot started forming on your lower stomach at how good Grayson was eating you out and finger fucking you.

"Gray, Grays please," you started chanting his name, not being able to hold it back any longer, the amount of pressure building up was much more than what you could handle.

"You wanna cum for me Angel, Wanna be a good girl for daddy?" He teasingly asked, his fingers moving at a pace that you thought was impossible.

"Mhm, I do please. I'll be a good girl I promise,"

"Let it go, cum for me," as soon as the words slipped out, there was no holding back, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as you let a pornographic like moan, squirting all over his face and making a mess in the back seat of his car, your vision had truly gone white, never feeling something as strong before, not that you minded, you loved every single second.

"Oh my God," was the only thing you managed to breathe out, finally opening your eyes after a few seconds, Grayson was above you, his white shirt having some wet patches, showing how good he truly made you feel.

"I don't think you should be saying his name right now," he smirked as you shook your head, "Not after this mess you made in my car, at least,"

"I know a perfect way to make up, but you know, it's still November so," you smirked, looking at your watch, the time being 11:51, he had nine more minutes.

"Really? How so?" He teased, picking you up as he sat down, placing you bare half on his black dress pants.

"To make you feel really fucking good, right here. In this car, and you can do anything you want to me," you smirked, palming him through his pants, his bulge was apparent, but you were running out of time. 11:55

"But it's only valid for today," you added, unblocking his belt before lifting yourself up to pull his pants down, You spit on your hand before moving it, just to make him harder and work him up a bit more.

"But you have to say yes,"

11:59

"Fuck just do it," he groaned before placing his hands on your hips, making sure to align himself before slamming you down on his dick.

12:00

"Look at you, couldn't even wait one more minute," you struggle to say as he bounced you up and down on his dick, loud groaning falling past his lips at how good you felt around him.

"Shut up,"

Please I am so sorry!!! This is so bad and gross, and I got carried away...I also wrote this in like an hour!! But I said I would do it so here we are!! Anyways yeah, if you made it here because you read it I love you!! And big thanks to @blazedgraysons for helping me and motivating me to write it, I love you bitch!!! 

[catxsnow]

SAME SIDE R.H.

Summary: Based on the song same side by Jessie Reyes. In which Roy Harper thinks he’s knows what’s best for you after a lifetime together

Warning: Drug abuse, withdrawals, mentions of blood, angst 

A/N: I love writing for Roy PLEASE when requests open again send some for him. 

Word Count: 4.1k

How come I can't leave ya? Talk to myself at night, wonderin' why I feel like I am tied down to someone Who's makin' me cry more than makin' me smile

Roy Harper had been apart of your life for as long as you could remember. He was there when you picked up your first bow. When you had your first night out along side him and Oliver. When you had your first victory and your first defeat. There was no one you would rather have by your side than Roy.

When he was Speedy and you were his partner, there seemed to be nothing that the two of you couldn't accomplish together. Oliver might not have loved either of you going off on your own, but side by side he couldn't have a worry in the world. He trusted the two of you to keep each other safe, and for the longest time, you did.

No matter what situation you got yourself into, Roy was always the one to give you a hand. There was never a time that you doubted his ability to save you. He saved you from broken arrows, but he never seemed to be able to save you through broken hearts. He couldn't save you from himself.

Growing up, it was impossible not to fall in love with your best friend. Roy had a charm to him that was impossible to ignore. A classic tale of friends to lovers. You became inseparable on and off the field. Late nights taking bad guys down and even later nights stuck between the sheets of your bed.

Roy was a lover - and for the longest time he was a damn good one too. He was selfless to strangers, and to you he would do anything to make you happy. With him it seemed like forever wasn't long enough. Forever was your always with him, until it wasn't. Until Roy wasn't your always.

He couldn't save you from the times that he fell into a dark hole. He couldn't save you when his life became too preoccupied with drugs and alcohol. Most importantly, you couldn't save him from himself either. No matter how hard you tried, Roy always fell back to those roots.

No matter how many nights you were left yelling and crying over him coming home do you so high he could barely walk, you couldn't leave him. Roy had been part of your life for as long as you had known, leaving him seemed harder than anything you ever had to do. You couldn't, not when he needed you. Not when you still loved him.

Night after night he came back to you crying at how you had lost him. Roy no longer thrived to save the innocents. He didn't care what happened to himself, and not in the selfless kind of way that you once admired. The Roy that you had fallen in love with was gone, and you weren't sure if you were ever going to get him back.

It broke you to see him fill you with broken promises of trying to fix himself. Pleads and cries that he would always need you more than he needed those stupid drugs. No matter how many promises he made, he never could fix himself. He never wanted to fix himself. It was easier to feel nothing that the pain of memories of the life you lived together.

The life that you had to bare just as badly as he did.

Just make it through the night Lyin' to myself, sayin' I'll be fine I don't want you, I hate you, I think But I don't wanna be alone either

"I'm tired of this Roy! I can't keep going on like this!"

He promised he'd quit for good this time. After years of ups and downs you knew not to believe his promises. For some damned reason you did this time, only to be disappointed again. It was weeks that he was clean. Even if it was hard, you started seeing tiny glimpses of the Roy you once knew.

You spent every moment with him as he tried to better himself. Early mornings of finding him heaving over the toilet. Mid-day shakes that wouldn't go away no matter how hard he focused on them to stop. Night after night of his tossing and turning, unable to sleep or stay still. Every step of the way, you were there.

Roy seemed to bet getting better. He fell asleep at night holding onto you without the hours of endless insomnia. The shaking in his hands and legs had improved so much that he could hold his bow again. He was good, he was getting there. Most importantly you were proud of him and happy to have him back.

Until you noticed that the reason he was getting better, was because he wasn't getting better at all. Roy had been in a good mood - one that had got him dragging you to your bathroom and filling the tub with water. He had been having a lot of baths lately - the hot water helping with his tensed muscles and clouded mind.

Sitting in the bath with him filled you with a happiness in your chest that you hadn't felt in years. As simple as that moment was, it meant everything to you. But Roy's everything stemmed from the piece of packaging you found forgotten behind the toilet. Packaging for needles.

His faced drained of everything as you reached for it. The happy smile on your face fell to a cold look. Roy didn't have time to explain himself before you were out of the bath and reaching for your towel. He was only strides behind you as you marched to your room. Fury ran through you. He lied.

Roy wasn't getting better, he was falling right back to his old routine after weeks - months - of torture. No matter what, you told him that you would be there right by his side as long as he stayed honest with you. Instead, he lied to your face - for god knows how long too.

"(Y/N)-" Roy tried. The towel was tightly wrapped around his waist, pathetically watching as you reached for clothes to throw on. "Please, just..."

"Just what, Roy?" You snapped. The hoodie you pulled over your head belonged to him and you couldn't have even been bothered to notice. He did. "I asked you to be straight with me this time! No lies, no deceit, just the truth. With everything that we've been through together I thought you would understand. I know this is hard bu-"

"But you don't know!" Roy suddenly blew up. It was a cycle that you were constantly thrown into. Someone lies, someone gets mad, everyone gets frustrated. Years of heartbreak with him but refusing to leave each others sides. It always seemed easier to stay, and now... now you weren't so sure. "You're not the one who has to go through all this shit! You're not the one who's so fucking dependent on this.. this toxin!"

"You did it to yourself! You did it because you hated the person you were becoming and you couldn't fucking accept my help!" You countered. The words hurt you as soon as they left your lips. Blaming Roy was never something you did because you knew how guilty he felt for getting to the place that he was in. "Fuck, Roy... You know I didn't mean it like that."

You reached for his hands, sighing as he flinched away from you. Your arms dropped back to your sides, head tilted to the ground and ashamed too look up at him. All your years together, you never accused him of putting himself in this place - truth was, he knew you were right. It only hurt him more.

"I didn't want to lie to you," He whispered. It physically hurt him to lie to your face. You deserved the truth, and he just couldn't bare to see your disappointment again. He had seen that look too many times. "I'm tired of putting you in this position. You deserve better than me. You've always deserved better than me."

"Don't say that," your gaze turned to the shake in his hand. Roy clenched his fist trying to get it to stop but with no avail. You threaded your arms around him, tucking your head into his still wet chest. He was thinner than he was when you first left Oliver to become your own team. "You've always been the one."

You're such an asshole, but I see a prince And I'm a good girl, but you see a bitch I wanna make love, you wanna burn a bridge

Roy knew better. He knew that you deserved a life outside of his. He wanted that for you. Happiness everyday, not having to worry about him or even the life of a vigilante. If anyone in this world deserve freedom from the weights dragging them down, it was you.

So, as he tried to better himself - for what felt like the hundredth time - he tried to make it easier on. Unfortunately, he did it in the only way that he knew how. Roy pushed you away, just like he pushed Oliver and the Titans away too. You never thought he would stoop low enough to get rid of you.

Late nights out on his own - sometimes as Arsenal, sometimes as Roy. When you woke up in the morning he was already gone. You never saw him during the day and unless you woke in the middle of the night, you didn't see him in the evenings either. Roy was pushing you far away from.

His disappearance led to more fights. Fights that he edged on for the sole reason that it seemed easier to let you go if you hated him. The only flaw in his plan was that no matter how hard he tried, you couldn't hate him. If you did, you would have left him years ago.

Instead, he had to leave you. Roy was gone one morning. His bow and arrows packed up, the few possessions he cared about. The chain that you had given him that he couldn't bare to wear unless he was clean. You woke up to a cold bed and a broken heart.

You knew this was coming. Roy had been hinting at it for days without having to say anything at all. Sometimes he forgot how well you knew him. Sometimes he choose to forget to make it easier on himself. Leaving you was the hardest thing that he had ever done, but in the long run he knew it to be worth it.

It was the first time in weeks that Roy had gone to bed the same time as you. He wore only his boxers to bed, arms tucked behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. Weeks of not talking to one another. Weeks of missing him, missing his touch. Roy hadn't been the same since that night you caught him lying.

Maybe that night, maybe he was ready to go back to himself and try again. Maybe he was ready. You rolled over in your bed, cuddling into his side and embracing the little amount of warmth he had. Roy didn't tense up at your touch, but he didn't make a move to accept your embrace either.

Feather-light touches dragging along his chest, over his scars and flaws. He didn't seem to mind you doing it, so you continued. You leaned into him more, kissing the places you once trailed your fingers again. Legs pulling over to straddle either side of him. You left a line of kisses up his chest, his neck until finally reaching his lips.

Before you could even brush yours against them, Roy gripped your hips. You expected him to urge the movement of them. Instead, he guided you off of him, going back to his original laying space. He couldn't look you in the eye - why did you expect him to be able to kiss you as well?

That was the night you knew

Leaving you was impossible for him. You were all he ever knew for his whole life. Leaving you meant losing a part of himself. 

"Roy you can't keep coming home like this." Barely able to stay awake, blood dripping from what seemed like every inch of skin that was visible. Bruises littered his face and you were sure his torso was the same as well. There had been several nights where he had come back to you like this.

He sat silently as you stitched him up. Silent as he had been all week. Avoiding your calls and texts of wondering when he was going to come home. Roy hung his head low, unable to speak, or to look at you. Whatever was running through his head, you would never get to know.

As soon as the last stitch was done you stood up from your chair. Roy remained where he was. You stood in front of him, placing your finger under his chin to get him to finally look up at you. Tears brimmed his eyes and you knew it wasn't from the pain of the stitches or the wounds.

You kissed his forehead, lingering against his skin for what felt like the first time in months. To your surprise, Roy wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. His head nuzzled into your torso and he suddenly couldn't bare the thought of letting you go. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders.

"Go shower baby," you instructed. Roy's arms dropped to his sides and he nodded at your request. You waited in bed for him that night. Through the sound of him standing in the shower for nearly an hour. Hearing him shuffle around - but never making his way to your bed. To you.

So I wish I was a bad guy So we could just be fightin' on the same side

Patrol had become a lot more dangerous. No one to watch you back, no one to save you if you were to fail. It pained you at the thought of going back to Oliver to ask for his help. That bridge had been long burned when you left with Roy. Now that Roy had left you... it felt natural to go back to your mentor.

As badly as you wanted to, Oliver wouldn't want to see you. He made that clear last time you saw him. Maybe he deserved to know you and Roy split ways - maybe he just didn't care at all.

It took a while getting used to being out there without Roy by your side. It seemed to get easier as time passed until stumbling upon his broken arrows every once in a while. Broken arrows, tried up blood, torn pieces of his suit. He was getting himself into more trouble than ever before and he didn't have you to pick him back up.

Years and years you were always fighting on the same side, not it felt as if he had pitted you against one another. Fighting to stay alive and stay apart. It was eating him alive having to do both.

Some days you wondered if it would be easier to be just like him. Endure the same struggles just so he wouldn't have to alone - or deal with the pain that you had because of his. Maybe if you were the same, he'd still be with you. Maybe you could have worked together to be better versions of yourself.

Maybe you would have dragged each other farther down the endless pit that never could be crawled out of.

Roy didn't have your hand to reach for anymore, he was in that pit all by himself.

You said all your goodbyes You said that you would be out my life If I could just let you go, let you be on your own But, love, I need ya

Roy Harper had been in your life for so long that you didn't know how to live without him. Years of relying on him with everything and through everything. He was always there to help you, no matter what. You were there for him - it was the basis of your relationship. No one left to fend for themselves.

So, why did he leave? Why did he feel the need to abandon you when he needed you the most. Always. Always you stayed by him - why did he think you wouldn't want to do that now? He was the one who pushed himself away, he was the one that decided he didn't need you anymore.

Roy had done a damn good job of making you hate him - or at least making you think you did. He burned his bridge with you long before he left. Maybe to him it seemed easier. Or maybe he was just a damn fool who thought you were better off without him. Roy was a cinderblock on your ankle in the middle of the ocean.

But he wasn't. He was far from that. Roy was your life craft. He was the one that kept you afloat and safe from the unknown depths of the water. He kept you sane, even if he drove you insane with his actions. The world that you lived together, the horrors you saw - he was the only one to understand.

Without him you had no one. What was left to fight for when your home was empty. He didn't need you anymore, but that didn't mean that you didn't need him. It was a time of bottom of liquor bottles and reckless behavior. No longer caring if you had gotten an extra hit or cut on you.

Roy watched over you. He always kept an eye out to make sure you were alright - and as time went on he only saw you get worse and worse. It pained him to see you like this, so broken and so lost of hope. Watching you made him realize just how much he had put you through.

The line of whether or not he would be helping or hindering you by coming back began to fade. He wasn't clean, he wasn't back to the man that you fell in love with. But watching you continue down this path? He couldn't bare the thought of having you fall to the same level that he was in.

"Roy..."

He couldn't let you fail like he did. No matter what he put you through, all the shit he had done to you before leaving - he knew you hated him for it. Roy didn't care how much you hated him, he couldn't let you do this to yourself. Even if it meant that you would hate him for good for coming back - he didn't care.

Roy loved you too much to see you suffering like this. Which was why he stood at your front door, months after leaving it for the last time. You both looked awful - bags under the eyes, an evident loss of muscle, ratted hair. Being away had harmed you both, something that you had known that would happen.

"You can't do this to yourself," he spoke as if you hadn't been months apart. As if he still had the right to tell you how you should take care of yourself - as if he ever had that right. He looked at the stash of bottles littering your table, counter, even scattered on the floor. "You're going down a path that you're not going to get back from."

"Fuck you," you tried to slam the door. He stopped it with the palm of his hand, pushing himself into the place he called home with you for years. "You're the last person that's allowed to come here to tell me how to live my life! Of all people-"

"Of all people I'm the one that you should listen to the most," Roy cut you off. "Of all people, you should know exactly what it means to follow this path."

"You left Roy," You turned away from him. It was harder than you ever expected to see him again. Nights of craving for him to be back with you, yearning for his touch. None of it seemed to matter now that he was really here. You were just reminded of the pain he induced to you. "You left me."

He did. And fuck was it hard. Not having you be there to remind him what life was worth living for tore him to pieces. He knew that his journey ahead of him was going to be a hard one alone, but if it meant not making you suffer anymore... it had to be worth it. He never expected you to fall like this.

You were always the strong one. Always the one to be there whenever he needed for whatever fucked reason. Maybe he was too preoccupied in his own struggles that he never noticed yours. Truth was, it was easy to ignore them when you could focus on him instead.

"I thought..." He tried to say that it would be easier. Obviously, it wasn't for either of you. "I know you deserve better than me. You weren't going to make that choice, so I did."

"You had no right to make that choice!" You spun around to face him. Hot, angry tears strolled down your cheeks. "You pushed me away and never told me why! How... how was I supposed to live with myself not knowing why the person that's been at my side through everything just picked up and left me."

"I'm sorry," Roy dropped his head. You knew his guilty look. Caving into himself, making him look smaller than he already was. Refusing to meet your eyes but so desperately needing to. Hands in his pockets because otherwise he doesn't know what to do with them. Lips in a thin line.

This was by far the worst look you had seen him give. His knees threatened to buckle beneath him. You could see the shaking in his limbs but that easily could have been from the withdrawals he was forcing himself through. It was hard before, but it was near impossible without you at his side.

"I told myself I wasn't coming back, not until I was clean for good."

"And are you?" Obviously, he wasn't. You could see that he wasn't good yet.

"I'm trying," Roy's voice cracked. He looked up at you beneath the brim of his ball cap. Tears spilled down his cheeks and he was clearly biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from sobbing. "You always tried so hard with me and I could never prove myself to you. I hoped... I hoped that if I could do it by myself that maybe you'd be proud of me for once."

He watched you cross the room to stand in front of him. Your hands reaching up to cup his cheeks and wipe away the tears. It was easy to understand the reasoning behind why he left, you just wished that he wasn't stupid enough to believe that it was true. Stupid enough to think that after a lifetime together that you could be pushed away in only a few weeks.

"I've always been proud of you, Roy," You whispered. "I've always been here for you. You didn't have to leave, or push me away, to try and better yourself to make me proud. I didn't want you to."

Roy couldn't take the separation any longer. He flung into your arms, nuzzling into the cook of your neck. The faint smell of liquor rolled off your skin, but underneath he felt back at home with you. You were his home, not this half-ass apartment or under any roof. It was you.

"I'm sorry," He repeated. You felt him relax as you wrapped your arms around him. Suddenly, all that anger that you had at him for leaving, it washed away. Roy needed you, and you would be there for him whether he wanted you to be or not. "Please..." He tried to get the words out but his voice got caught in his throat.

He was home in your arms, just as you had wanted it to be. Roy quickly realized his mistake of leaving you. Months of working back up to gain your trust again, of doing his best to finally quit for you. He was going to be the best version of himself being back with you because that was what you deserved.

It didn't matter what version you had - all you needed was him.

"I'm here, my love, I'm here."

I'm sorry, made this world in my head I'm sorry I don't wanna quit this yet I'm sorry, I swear that I tried my best I'm sorry, can you be sorry instead?

[sif-the-tsunami]

When you fall apart

But this ain’t my mama’s broken heart. 

Warnings: Yes, all of them. No smut all angst. and no promise of a happy ending. gallows humor, pregnancy loss, infidelity, self medication, spicy language. 

Summary: Sy is a cheating bastard and his wife has had enough. 

Pairing: Syverson, now a Colonel and his long suffering wife Josephine. (marriage is great guys, I promise.)

Just over 3,300 words.

This might not have been what you were expecting @oddsnendsfanfics​

My mother was a genuine Southern debutante, I grew up with pictures of her on the walls with her gorgeous smile and pretty pearl necklaces. Blonde hair and green eyed, she was the most beautiful little slice of American apple pie. Her daddy was the ‘Old Money’ type, and she was his finest accomplishment, she looked, behaved, spoke perfectly. Never once have I heard that woman raise her voice to a man. Hell, I never heard her pass gas in front of anyone for that matter. She is the picture of privilege, she went from her daddy’s house to her sorority house to her husband’s house. Some how, even though she smokes a pack a day, she still looks like she could pass for being forty instead of almost sixty. The last time we saw each other, my friends told me they didn’t know I had an older sister.

Mama married a gentleman who had the good sense to enlist in the military to help support the lifestyle she demanded he provide for her. He was never around much but he gave her a nice house with a lovely front yard, and two little perfect children. He was another one of the old Southern types, I don’t think he ever outright said “I love you, Josephine,” or “I’m proud of you, girl.” Looking back, I don’t think anyone ever did that for him either, so he probably didn’t know how to tell that to me or my brother Theodore. I’m almost sure that he and Mama loved each other once upon a time. Daddy worked hard, he broke his body serving his country, and when he couldn’t do that anymore he broke his own heart trying to please Mama. She must have been disappointed in how her life turned out. She might have had dreams once, when she was younger. I’m pretty sure the last of them were crushed when Daddy died balls deep in the woman who used to perm my Mama’s hair.

Mama played the grieving widow perfectly, not a single person knew that they had been miserable for years. She has worn black out in public ever since. I think the only thing that has really changed is that she has started day drinking now because she’s lonely. I don’t blame her really. She pushed us really hard to be as perfect outwardly as she is, so it is safe to say that she is really disappointed in your truly.

You might be wondering why this all matters, dear reader. However, I find that it is important for you to know this when I tell you I’m remembering this sitting here in the county sheriff’s office, waiting on my Mama to come pick me up because my probably soon to be ex-husband and I got into screaming match, and I may have drunkenly thrown my bottle of tequila at my probably soon to be ex-husband’s head. The details are a little fuzzy at the moment.

“Josephine Syverson, your mother is here to pick you up.” The Sheriff’s deputy starts in his slow drawl, “Now don’t you go pickin’ no fights with your husband. You’re lucky he ain’t pressing charges. Go sleep it off now, Ma’am. I’m sure you two kids will work it out.”

I wait until he can’t see my face to roll my eyes. And low and behold, there she is, my Mama drove four hours to come and pick me up. She’s in a black vintage driving coat, and her hair is covered by a dark gray satin bonnet. It doesn’t matter that it is half past midnight, she is still the beauty queen she has always been. I drank enough Jose Cuervo tonight that my head is still swimming, but I walk with the grace and dignity she taught me.

“Oh my Lord, Josie, what have you done to yourself?” She asks. “Thank you, officers, I’ll get her back on track.”

We make our way out to the car and Mama unlocks the door for me. I slide in and as soon as my butt hits the leather of her seats, I start crying all over again. She gives me the packet of tissues she keeps in her purse then hands a little make-up bag.

“So, what was is this time, Josie, I swear to Lord Jesus that if he laid a hand on you, your brother and I will bury him in the back yard.” She says turning on her Cadillac. “Get cleaned up, you are coming home with me. Maybe James will be smart enough to figure out where you went.”

“Mama?” Who was this woman? She never talks like this.

“Come on, your mama isn’t as dumb as she looks. Although he evidently is.” She lights up a cigarette and offers me one.

“I quit when we started trying… Even after… well… everything, I didn’t start back up.”

She pats my leg. I unzip the bag to find makeup wipes, mascara, face powder and some brick red lipstick. We might not get along all the time but she is a damn life saver. I have black rivers of my own eyeliner and mascara from earlier today streaking my face. I clean myself up as much as I can and then reapply some make-up. “There, now that you are looking better, tell me what happened...”

“Where do you want me to start? I swear this started after his first deployment.”

“Okay, Josie, start there.”

James Syverson is an Army Ranger, I met him after he finished officers school. Because of the nature of military special forces, they deploy more often than most jobs in the military. I understand that they are under a lot of pressure during these deployments and because he is in a position in leadership I opted to give him as much room as he needed. The other officer’s wives informed me that I needed to recalibrate my expectations of what could happen. They warned me that what happens on deployment shouldn’t be held against him when he gets home. And I didn’t, until a girl barely old enough to visit a bar came up to my door asking for my husband with a hand on her belly. She was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I just looked up Syverson in the phone book, and I didn’t know he was married.”

“Is it his?”

“Ma’am?”

“I can see that you are pregnant. Is. It. His?”

“I… I don’t know…” She said quietly.

“He is still over there. Do not come here again unless you are requesting a paternity test.” And I slammed the door shut. She did come back for the test results when he came home. Turned out that the baby wasn’t his. Small favors, right?

I never faulted the women who fell in love with him. I knew how special he could make them feel, its how I fell in love with him in the first place. After everything he’s put me through it almost doesn’t matter when it is just the two of us. All I have ever wanted was for it to be just the two of us again, but I don’t know think I can wait for him to retire.

“How many times do you think he’s done it?”

“At least once a deployment. The most recent one saw us at the movies last night. He was holding my hand like nothing had ever happened. When he was coming back from the concession stand, a little redhead stopped him and asked who he was here with. When she saw me, she looked like she saw a ghost. He came back up, handed me my pop, kissed my cheek and wrapped his arm around me. He said ‘I promise you, it is not what it looks like.’ but the bitch and her friend kept looking over their shoulders to peek at us. I saw her texting someone and then his phone vibrated, but he didn’t look at his phone until I wasn’t with him.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph.” She lit up again. “And you’ve just been sitting on this, the entire time?”

“Yeah, I learned from the best, Mama. I didn’t want to let you down. You taught me to never let them see me cry.”

“Oh, my baby girl...”

The rest of the night at the movies, I kept it to myself, I’ve had enough. The boiling, seething hatred I was feeling for both of them. I hate that they are always younger than me. I hate that it always makes me like I’m not enough. When I woke up this morning had a beer in the shower. I always save the last one for him, so taking the last one was a big “fuck you” to him. He tried to climb in with me until he saw me drinking in the shower.

“Woman, what are you doing?” He asked. Like he wasn’t the one who introduced me to the idea of a shower beer.

“I’m going to keep drinking ‘til my heart stops hurting, Sy. I don’t know what else to do. But whatever it is that we keep doing, I can’t keep it up anymore. Get out.” I have never denied him, no matter what he wanted. And up until this morning, I had been an amazing wife to him. In the fifteen years of marriage, he has only had to do his own laundry when he was away from home. And even then, he probable conned someone into doing it for him. I have lost almost every friend I have made from relocating so often. I have started and stopped working on my Master’s degree more times than I can count. And now here I am, mid-thirties with none of my own goals accomplished to show for all of the work I have done over the years. If I had opened my mouth, even once, about his indiscretions, he never would have made it to Colonel. Not once have I complained.

After I dried my body off, I walked into the kitchen, naked as the day I was born and grabbed my trusty kitchen sheers. I needed a change. He paused the game he was playing long enough to watch me walk past him with my scissors and the bottle of margaritas.

“Jo, it’s nine in the morning. Being a little dramatic, aren’t we? We going to church today?”

“Why, James? You’ve been yelling ‘Oh my god,’ between some whore’s legs fairly regularly, I’m sure he knows you are a big fan.” I walked away before he could reply, locking the door behind me to our bedroom. He pounded on the door a few times but got the hint that I was not in the mood to be talked to when I turned up Chris LeDoux as loud as I could play it. Then I went to go give myself bangs.

When the music fades, the house is silent. No video games, no football, nothing. I continue to drink from my bottle and the world becomes a little more tolerable. Now, I am not a heavy drinker. Sy teases me all the time about how cheap of a date I am.

“Josephine!” He snaps at me in his soldier voice and I drop the margaritas.

“Jesus fuck, Sy, why you gotta scare me like that.”

“Oh, you are the one getting scared, woman, I have never seen you act like this before.”

“That’s because you ain’t here every time one of your indiscretions comes knocking on the door of my house. Never once have I expected sainthood from you, James, I learned better after your first deployment,” he won’t look me in the eye, either he’s ashamed of what he’s been doing or he is going to punch a whole in the wall tonight. “You would have seen this if you had been around after my daddy died. This is your wife, Syverson, she goes a little crazy from time to time.

“You know how hard I tried to come home for that, that is not fair Josephine.”

“I’m sure you did try. I wish you would try a little harder when it comes to picking out these dumb sluts who think that you are just going to run away from home as soon as you come back from the sandbox. I have received notes on my car windshield telling me that you were going to leave me for them. How you loved them and you were just suffering with me. That I’m hateful, and spiteful, and they could treat you so much better then I ever could. What have you been telling these girls, James, for them to think I am some kind of monster? Haven’t I been a good wife to you? What did I do to you to make you hate me this much?”

“I had no idea that they were doing that. I don’t hate you, baby. You have been a better wife than I probably could have ever deserved. Is that what you want to hear? I know I’m a rotten bastard. How long have you been holding this in, Josie?” His face darkens, I can see all the rage boiling up in him too.

“Don’t you call me that name, you son of a bitch.” I spit at him.

“How long?”

“Since Cassandra came up holding her belly, waiting to tell you that she made you a daddy. Too bad it wasn’t the first time, or I actually might have been worried that you’d leave. I hadn’t even stopped bleeding yet before she tried to take you.” I snarled back at him. And he face drops. Twelve years ago, we tried. I was seven months pregnant when I lost our son. Sy’s squad was wiped out after a night of heavy combat. He barely made it out alive himself. I got a phone call about his injuries and I must have made a deal with the devil himself. I would put up with the womanizing, the long distance, the heartache, just please have him come up to me. I would give anything to save him, I had thought. An hour after I got the call that he had woken up and was safely on a ship in the Mediterranean sea, I started to go into early labor.

“Oh, fuck me. That long?” He whispers. He rubs his face, the stubble was getting long, unless he was out in the field, he kept himself within regulations. He reached out to hold me but I shrug off his touch. He walked away from me, thinking that maybe he might let me calm down and we would go back to being a picture perfect couple again. He could just do whatever he wanted and I will grin and bare it.

I cleaned up the mess I made then went back to the bedroom to put on something on me other than shame. We gave each other space until the evening came around. He came in to ask if I had any plans for dinner. Wrong question, buddy. I walked to the kitchen in my tight black yoga pants and a tank top, went to the liquor cabinet, grabbed my favorite bottle of tequila and took three long gulps.

“That’s my plan, worry about yourself.”

“You haven’t had any real food today, you need to eat something.”

“Eat my ass, Colonel.” With that he pins me to the wall, the room spins around me and I start thrashing against him. He’s got probably 100lbs on me and more combative training than I can remember, so as you can well imagine this is going super great for me. I stop long enough to see the tears forming in his eyes. “Was there ever anything special between us, did you keep any part of yourself just for me?”

“Josephine, you are the only woman I have ever loved. I never even implied that I had any feelings towards them. They knew from the beginning it was simply recreational. Jo, you know you are my best friend.”

“Then why do you keep hurting me? Why am I not enough, Sy? Why do they keep getting you at your best, and I have to put all of your broken pieces back together again when you finally do come home.” Remember every time he woke up screaming the names of his fallen friends. When we have to leave BBQ’s early on the 4th of July because the fireworks remind him of mortar shells.

“You are enough. You are more than enough. I couldn’t have made it this far without you. It has never been anything other than stress relief with them.” The first tear rolls down his cheek. “I love you, Pussycat, now please lets get some food in you. Are you going to be good?”

“Haven’t I always been good. Been good, but not good enough.” I whine and slide down the wall once his hands are off of me. Good lord, where the hell is my dignity. 

He lets me go gently and leaves to make me a peanut butter sandwich. While his back is turned, I grab the bottle one more time and take another long swig. This is where the rest of my night is very fuzzy until I came to in the back of the squad car.

He evidently tried to take the bottle from me, I threw it at him, it went wide and smashed against the wall. He took me to the ground, just tried to keep me from hurting either of us and I screamed at him every vile thing I could think of until the sheriff showed up. They tried to take him in, seeing that I was a sobbing mess on the floor. I told them I tried to hurt him, so they handcuffed me and took me in. Before they drove off, James brought a sweater and my purse out for me. I watched a couple of nosy housewives standing at the end of their drive ways. I’m pretty sure I flipped them the bird and they looked at me with disgust.

Now I’m sitting here, in Mama’s Cadillac, licking my wounds.

“Why in the name of God have you not told me about any of this?” Mama asks, this is now her sixth cigarette. I think she’s trying not to turn the car around.

“I thought you would have told me to get over myself and save face.” I say as we pull to her house.

“No, baby girl, I wouldn’t have. No one, especially not my daughter, deserves to be treated like that. Ooo I never liked the boy. Your daddy used to say that cowboy was all hat and no cattle. Let’s get some sleep, Princess. We will go get your stuff in the morning.”

I make my way to my childhood bedroom and collapse down on the bed. Before I close my eyes for the night, I finally check my phone. He had been blowing up my text messages.

I realize that I have never apologized to you about my short comings. But I swear to you, I will get out of the army if you want me to. We can move anywhere you want to, we can start over, just the two of us. I’m so sorry I hurt you, I’m sorry that you kept this all from me. I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t love you. These where from six hours ago.

I don’t know when you will get your phone back, I love you. This was from before my mom collected me.

They told me you have been released from custody but didn’t say to who. Who ever picked you up asked them not to tell me. Are you safe?

I love you. Please. Let me know where you are, I’ll come get you. I hope that you are just ignoring me because you are asleep.

I reply to him with a simple Mama picked me up. Get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.

No ‘I love you’ from me tonight although it killed me not to tell him. Tomorrow, I will figure out if what we have can be saved. But that is tomorrow Josie’s problem.

[lyraparadigm]

Never Have I Ever...One Shots S2 & Beyond

Fanfic on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32770339/chapters/81307000

(More chapters in the link)

 Chapter 1: Never Have I Ever...Done Well In School

It felt good to do well in school. Paxton missed feeling accomplished. Ever since he broke his arm and couldn’t swim, he felt like there was a void in his chest..something he couldn’t quite pin point till this very day. Seeing his classmates clap for him at the end of his extra credit presentation felt good - like a few months ago when he was still on the swim team and breaking records. To top it off, Ojichan was there and now he couldn’t stop praising Paxton at dinner with Mom, Dad and Rebecca. Paxton couldn’t help the dopey grin that overtook his face when Ojichan asked what inspired him to step out of his comfort zone. Devi. He wasn’t gonna say that though.

“I just wanted to go above and beyond in school.” He shrugged nonchalantly, his face still split in a grin. 

Shaking his head, he chuckled to himself and mumbled under his breath, “I wanted to swim to San Diego.”

“Huh?” Rebecca asked, ever observant and Paxton, try as he might, couldn’t keep that damn grin off his face.

“Well, whatever it was, i’m proud of you Paxton. Thank you for convincing me to tell my story. It was the right thing to do.” Ojichan’s admission meant everything to Paxton and as he walked back to the garage after dinner, to play Call of Duty, it struck him that this wasn’t really what he wanted to be doing. 

Without much thought, he grabbed his keys and was on his way to Devi Vishwakumar’s house. The closer her got to her home, the louder he could hear his heart beat. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins and he felt like he was about to compete at a swim meet, or maybe sit in that Facing History test for the first time again.And then the insecurity set in… what if Devi was still into Ben? But that couldn’t be, right? Ben was with Aneesa and Devi was pretty chill with that. Her crying the other day has nothing to do with Ben. It was to do with her friends and he fixed that…he made her smile… so maybe…He shook himself free of those thoughts as he parked on her street by the fire hydrant so Dr. Vishwakumar wouldn’t be able to see him. He wasn’t gonna make that mistake again. Besides, it was just going to be a quick in and out. He just needed to say thank you to Devi. No need to knock on her door and meet her mom. He was just going to…what, throw rocks at her window? That was cheesy as hell and Paxton didn’t do cheese. 

He licked his lips, frowning as he realised it was raining. How had he not realised this before?!  Well, he was outside her house now…and the longer he dithered, the more soaked he was getting. Grunting, he started climbing the tree outside Devi’s house. He had never done this before. He usually just knocked on the front door or invited the girl around. Damn Paxton, just get a grip.He was on the roof now and her bedroom light was on and she was…she was sat there in these cute pjs that somehow did a great job at outlining her figure despite completely covering her. Her window was open, so he could just climb in… he blinked sheepishly…maybe he should text her before he did that. That’d be the polite thing to do. 

He watched like a total creep as she responded to his ‘what r u doing’ text.‘U want company?’ He had barely finished hitting send before he knocked. She was so goddamn cute - no. He was just here to thank her. Right. He climbed in as she got off her bed and approached him.

“Paxton…”

He breathed out a laugh at the ridiculousness of this situation.

“You’re in my house…” she appeared utterly confused, her brows furrowing adorably.

He laughed, a little shy, a little nervous, “Yeah…I guess so”His palms felt clammy all of a sudden and he could feel every drop of rain seeping into his skin through his shirt. His hair must have been a mess but he was just going to start talking anyway.

“Look I just wanted to say thank you for all your help.” His eyes could help but stray down her form quickly, “It felt so good to finally do something well in school” and he noticed her eyes drift too, though her gaze was far more obvious than his had ever been. And it struck him suddenly. There was never any hiding with Devi. She always just did what she wanted, when she wanted - like that time she propositioned him for sex despite having never spoken to him before, or when she manipulated Mr. Shapiro into giving Paxton a second chance at that Facing history test.So maybe it was time Paxton did what he wanted too.

“So…are you here to study…or….” The anticipation in her voice did things to him. Devi always had a way of looking or talking to him like she couldn’t quite believe he was talking back or looking at her or..well, now he was about to wipe that look off her face.

“No” he shook his head, closing the distance between them, barely giving her a chance to adjust, barely giving himself a chance to change his mind. His hand was in her hair, his gaze flickered down past her nose ring to her lips while he released a slow breath. This was happening. His eyes met hers for a moment before he closed them and leaned forwards, his lips pressing against hers in the softest of kisses that somehow felt different than any other kiss he had given her before. 

And then all bets were off; one hand wedged firmly in her hair, the other rose to grasp her waist as his lips moved sensually over hers and before he realised, he was backing her towards her bed. She didn’t seem opposed to any of it, her own hands gripping his forearms to start with, then grazing his arms before settling on his chest.He crawled on top of her bed, his lips never leaving hers for long as they adjusted so they were lying on their sides, kissing each other languidly. 

Soft kisses, open mouthed kisses, lingering ones, breathy ones…he could spend hours just learning her mouth and all the little hitches in her breath when he switched up the pace, or pressed his tongue against the seem of her lips. Then her leg forced its way between his and his brain short circuited a little. He didn’t think it was intentional, he didn’t really think she realised that her thigh was now pressed firmly against his… she seemed too absorbed in kissing him, her hands wading through his hair, nails scratching his scalp and making him shiver. ‘I don’t kiss guys often, Paxton!’ He remembered her admission weeks ago… for someone inexperienced, she sure was good at making him breathless. And to think he thought this would just be a quick visit. He was careful to not push. His hands stayed at her waist mostly, his thumb gently rubbing circles on her lower back. Occasionally his lips would drift to her jaw and kiss the spot below her ear. That drew a breathy sigh out of her that sent a heat wave up his spine. His lips returned to kissing hers, not wanting to get carried away, not wanting to push.

“Paxton?” she mumbled as they parted for breath, noses rubbing against each others. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she asked, “this isn’t a dream right? I’ve not just fallen asleep on my math homework? Am I drooling?”

He chuckled, cheeks blushing a little in embarrassment. There was a lot to unpack here - she dreamed of him apparently and God she was adorable.“This is real”, the words were barely out of his mouth before she lunged the already short distance between them and started kissing him once more. They must have been at it for at least an hour, he surmised, based on how uncomfortably tight his jeans were getting. He rolled onto his back to cool off, grinning dopily at the puppy dog frown on her face. She settled on her back too and they both stared at the ceiling, catching their breath.

“Did you talk to your Mom? You know.. after you saw her in the Maybach”Her brows furrowed again and her fists clenched. It always fascinated him how quickly her temper flared. The first time he took notice of her wasn’t when she asked him for sex, it was when she said something about Nazis killing Ben Gross. He had been surprised a nerd like her had the balls to say something like that in class and get sent to the Principal’s office.

“I just feel like she’s moving on so quick  - it’s not even been a year since my dad died” Devi huffed and Paxton turned to face her. 

He picked up an errant strand of hair and curled it around his finger, “Maybe you should talk to her?”

“I yelled at her already and now I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to talk about this.”

He nodded. He didn’t know what to say. Devi’s life was intense with a lot more drama than he was used to. He called her crazy once, with her ‘psycho’ drama. He cringed a little at that. It did nothing to ease his hurt when he said it then and it wasn’t doing much else but deepen his guilt now. So instead of saying anything at all, he let his fingers drift from her hair to brush against her nose ring and then against her lips. 

He felt a flutter in his stomach on seeing her anger melt off her face..like he was the only one that could do that… just like when he made her smile after her face was all puffy from crying about Eleanor. ‘Swim to San Diego’ seemed to be echoing in his mind a lot lately, especially whenever he gazed into her eyes. Her eyes. Had they always been this pretty? He grinned at his own thoughts now and it grew further when she matched his smile. He sighed against her lips, unable to keep away for long. His lips hovered against hers, never quite touching, just teasing…till she let out a grunt of frustration, much to his amusement, and reached forwards to mash their lips together. It was clumsy at first and he let out a groan as her teeth nicked his lips but his laughter died down when she snuck her leg between his again and then a different sort of groan left his mouth.

“Devi,” he breathed, pulling away from her and enjoying seeing that dazed look on her face he was so familiar with. His shirt was fully dry now and he figured it was time to stop pushing his luck. He shuddered to think what Dr. Vishwakumar would do if she caught him in her daughter’s bed.

“I’ve gotta go,” he pressed a quick kiss to Devi’s lips and she squeezed his hand in response. Walking to the window and ducking out, he found he was unable to leave without kissing her goodbye.

“I’ll call you tomorrow” he spoke gently against her lips and yep, there it was, that look on her face that made his stomach feel giddy. She looked at him like he had hung the moon and it was hella endearing.It had him grinning all the way back down to her front lawn and to the short walk to his jeep.Yeah this was definitely not a quick visit.Swim to San Diego indeed. 

[crimsonspade]

Ambushed with Apathy Year 8, Gotham City

He’d just gotten his helmet off and tossed his cape across his bed. It had been a long night, and dawn was just starting to break through Gotham’s perpetual cloud cover. He was really looking forward to a lukewarm shower and maybe four hours of sleep before he had to report into WayneChem for work.

Just as he was reaching up to undo his bow tie he heard a click behind him. Spinning around and into a defensive position, hand ready to grab one of his many knives, he saw an intruder in his apartment.

If one was so inclined, she could be described as breathtakingly beautiful. Smooth dark hair, dark skin, dark eyes that flicked over him as if he were a worm beneath her leather boot. Good thing Hood wasn’t inclined so he could just mentally describe her as looking full of herself.

“Who,” Hood started to ask, only to be interrupted by her accented voice.

“So you are the one distracting my beloved.” She did a pointedly slow appraisal of him and then around his crappy apartment. “What a joke.”

Hood straightened up in affront. Ok so maybe his place could be cleaner. And he could organize his many, many article clippings of Batman covering the walls. But he wasn’t exactly expecting company tonight...or ever. Who did this woman think she was, that she could break into his place and judge him like some queen?

“Pardon me, Your Highness, but what do you think you’re doing here?” He waved a hand to indicate his abode, slipping the knife from his sleeve into his palm at the same time, just in case.

“I am Talia Al Ghul. I came to see for myself why my beloved has declined a return into the fold of the League of Shadows. You are the Red Hood, a chain keeping him here. You are very underwhelming.” Talia flocked her hair over her shoulder, turning to browse his collection of Batman merchandise, “And tacky.”

Hood narrowed his eyes, he’d heard of the Shadows...Who was she talking about him chaining to Gotham? Wait, she couldn’t possibly mean- “Batman? Bats was in the League? I don’t believe you.”

She gave him an arrogant smirk over her shoulder, picking up the silver batarang he’d had mounted on one of his shelves. “Where did you think he learned how to utilize the darkness?”

Her attention returned to looking at his collection and Hood found that he didn’t have any evidence to contradict her. From what he knew of Bats’ training, he traveled the world and learned from multiple teachers. But he rarely went any further into it than that...

“Alright. Say I believe you. You’re trying to...what. Threaten me to try and get Batsy back? Lady, you might just belong in Gotham, because that’s insane.” Deciding to go along with this for now, Hood walked over to his dresser to continue his plans for the next few hours. Looks like it’d just be peppered with thinly veiled hostile conversation. Twirling his knife he placed it down and started undoing his cufflinks.

“I’ve looked into you, Hood. You barely exist. You are holding him back from his full potential, potential the Shadows can help him accomplish, changing the world, not just this derelict City.” Talia toyed with the batarang, flipping it between her fingers. Hood eyed her and silently wished she’d cut her hands.

“I’m his partner, and that ‘derelict City’ is our home and probably the biggest thing Bats cares about.”

“Then perhaps the City also needs to go.” Talia mused, turning on her heel to face Hood once more. Her sharp eyes followed his every movement, looking for a threat. He noted with irritation that she’d yet to put down his batarang prize.

“There’s a fast-track to getting on Batsy’s bad side. Go ahead, I’ll eat popcorn and watch as he stops you.”

“Not even Batman can stop the League of Shadows.” Talia declared with a tilt of her head. Hood raised a brow.

“If you really believe that then why are you trying so hard to get him to join you?” He asked with a smirk. The glare she shot him might’ve been threatening to any other person. Hood just barely restrained a chuckle and let out a soft huff instead.

“You don’t like me. I’m not thrilled about you either. But I’m not the one going anywhere in Bat’s life, so suck it up buttercup.” Hood said as he slid his suit jacket off his shoulders. With practiced movements he took out the various knives kept in the lining and sleeves, laying them out on his dresser.

Talia watched in growing offense as he proceeded to turn his back, leveraging one leg up onto his dresser to get at the ankle knife kept there which joined the others in the pile. Her scowl deepened as Hood took out the light chain whip from the small of his back and set it next to his pile of knives.

“You dare disarm before one who announces her intent to be your enemy?”

“Hey, before you barged in I was planning on taking a shower. Besides, you’re not going to kill me, Highness.” Hood replied without facing her, emptying his pockets of his mini smoke bombs and flash grenades. He felt the air shift behind him, as Talia closed the ten feet between them and pulled his shoulder so they were face to face with his back pressing painfully into his dresser.

The prickle of cold steel against his bare throat would’ve given him goosebumps if he hadn’t expected it. Talia stood barely inches from his face, pressing her pilfered batarang to his throat until it was just barely not cutting skin.

“What’s stopping me from slitting your throat right here and being done with you?” She hissed with a furious look in her eyes.

For the first time that evening, Hood gave a broad smile, stretching his scars until it hurt.

“You could,” He admitted, his smile not dimming in the slightest as he nodded and a line of blood appeared as he moved against the blade against his throat, “But you won’t be getting out of this apartment without my little pen knife here going three inches into your liver, causing you to bleed out in, ohhh, less than three minutes?”

Without moving a muscle, she looked down. Hood flexed his hand around the knife in question to make his point, heh, clear. He’d kept one knife up his sleeve, and now the tip was digging into her side, just one little jab and it would do exactly as he said.

“You are a vigilante, you follow my beloved’s foolish ideal of not causing death, you are bluffing.” She insisted, bringing her eyes to lock again with his.

“Oh am I, sugarplum? Well, if you think that, then maybe you should roll these dice and see just which one of us is bluffing.” Hood raised his brows, eyes wide and smiled even wider. It caused her to draw back, even just a fraction.

The glow of his green eyes this close was...unsettling.

With exaggerated slowness, and without breaking eye contact, Talia removed the batarang she held to his neck. Hood lowered the tip of his knife at the same time.

“You are less than nothing. He will grow bored of you.” Who was she trying to convince? Him or herself? Hood snorted.

“Which one of us is the entertainer here, Your Highness? I’m the co-star every opening night, while you’re barely a featured guest.”

Retreating towards the window, Talia turned to go. Hood growled, bringing his arm and knife back up, “Ah, ah, ah. Forgetting something, Your Highness?” She looked back and wordlessly Hood used his knife to indicate the batarang she still had in her hand. “Get your own.”

Suddenly slicing through the air next his head, the batarang lodged itself into the wall behind him, bisecting one of his articles of Bats fighting Penguin in Metropolis. Dang, now he’d have to ask for a reprint.

“I am still not impressed.” Talia stated with a glare. Hood doesn’t roll his eyes despite feeling the urge.

“The feelin’s mutual, cupcake. Get. Out.” He bites out, patience thoroughly used up.

Maintaining eye contact, she goes. Hood doesn’t blink until he is looking out at the rising sun and finds no trace of her. Only then does he allow his shoulders to slump and let out a tired sigh.

On second thought, he’d skip the shower. Collapsing onto his bed sounded wonderful.

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Contending the Flame IX

Author’s note: Happy New Year everyone! Let’s start it off right with positivity and no looking back on a bad 2020. Can’t wait to continue to write for such excellent fans, you guys/gals are the best!

Masterlist

Word count: 2741

Pairing: Ivar x Reader

Warnings: The usual, nothing new to add.

Since your unexpected kiss with Ivar in that dark corridor, you had avoided him. It was no simple task, as he seemed hell-bent on getting you alone if he could, and that made you feel like a mouse living with a cat. You double-checked every corner before turning, and you tried to finish your work before sundown. Audhild had been an additional ally to you, whether intentionally or by happy accident, you weren't sure. She kept you by her side even with tasks she could have accomplished without your help. You weren't certain of her relationships with the sons of Ragnar, only that she acted independently of them. That was something that still took getting used to; women operating on their own accord.

While you continued to ponder over Ivar's pursuing you, you also tried to make sense of your feelings. Men in general were something you had always been fearful of. You had seen rape and abuse from an early age on the streets of Rendlesham, and you learned quickly not to trust an innocent face. Ivar's face was fair when not screwed up and twisted in rage, and he had the shyness of a boy when he kissed you. But you could not forget he was a heathen. His affection had been severe, clutching and pulling with desperation you thought you would drown in. 

Your feelings were beginning to frighten you. You had returned the kiss without struggle, and you had been tempted to give in to more before a heightened sense of self had kicked in. This Viking had murdered your priests and his own brother, yet you were having lustful thoughts. God would be disappointed in your lack of restraint. 

You needed guidance. When you had been in the abbey, you would often go to the senior Sisters for advice. Audhild was patient, but she would not understand the inner turmoil of a Christian. There was only one other in the encampment who you could speak to, and the moment you were no longer needed by the healers, you snuck off towards the courtyard where Bishop Heahmund was being held.

Only one guard was posted now, as the Bishop had given them no more trouble since you had been brought to him. He was still fettered in chains, but he wore a serene look that would have angered the devil. His faith could not be shaken, and you envied his composure.

As you approached from the building across the way, the guard glanced at you. He did not dismiss you from coming closer to Heahmund, instead seeming to lose interest in you entirely. 

"Bishop Heahmund," You called softly, creeping nearer.

His eyes shot open, but he did not appear surprised by your intrusion. Giving you a smile, he indicated for you to sit. "Hello, Sister Mary Catharine. I wondered if I would see you again, but I had hoped. You are the bright light of York in this nest of heathens."

He couldn't seem to cease with the flattery, and you remembered the rumors about Heahmund being led into temptation by widows. Ivar wasn't wrong when he had accused you of having desirable thoughts for the man. Hearing stories of the Bishop, he had sounded larger than life, like a hero from a story. You used to envision him coming to take you away from your lonely days in the convent, this handsome and brave warrior. Those had been the daydreams of a young girl. Seeing him captured by the same heathens who had enslaved you, the glass had shattered, and what remained was just a man.

"How have you been?" You asked while tucking your dress behind you as you sat on the ground.

"My head is clear, and my resolve is set. They want me to fight for their cause, and I see no alternative to this request. If I want my freedom, I'll have to go along with whatever the Boneless one commands."

You frowned, not understanding why Ivar wanted Heahmund on his side. He was a devout Christian who wouldn't stray from his path and could turn on the heathens at the opportune moment. A part of you worried for Ivar. 

"Are you certain this is what God would want?"

"I do not see this as a defeat, rather that God has a new plan for me and this is the way I must follow," Heahmund said, and the chains rattled as he readjusted his position to look at you. "But you did not come here to discuss my fate, Sister. You are still bothered by what we spoke of the last time we met. The youngest son of Ragnar is still giving you trouble."

You ducked your head in a penitent gesture. "I feel lost, and in need of guidance. You keep calling me Sister, but shamefully I no longer think of myself as a nun."

"You have forsaken our Lord?"

You were surprised by how there was no venom behind his question, just bald-faced curiosity. "No, I still have my faith, but my station is misplaced. I would like it if you called me (Y/N)."

"(Y/N)? That was your name before you took your vows?"

"Yes, and though I haven't gone by it in years, I feel more like that abandoned little girl than I do Sister Mary Catharine."

"Their people are changing you," Heahmund said, appearing thoughtful. "Your heart is growing restless, and you are curious about their ways. The youngest son of Ragnar is trying to steal you away, but look sharp, for God would never allow one of his children to be pried from his embrace."

"Ivar he…he frightens me, but I am also excited when I am with him," You confessed, and your heart thundered at the admission. "I come alive when he's near. He sees me in a way that no one else ever has."

"(Y/N), look at me," Heahmund demanded, and you did, startled by his tone. "You cannot fall in love with this heathen. He will lead you astray, and leave when it is of most convenience for him. You must pray for forgiveness, and honor God by respecting the vows you have entered into."

His severe expression was marred by what he was preaching, and you felt your hand clench tight in anger. You surged up onto your feet, standing over him like a scarecrow in a field.

"And what of you, Bishop? Were you honoring your vows when you were between the legs of those widows?"

Heahmund turned away with a stiffness to his face, as if he couldn't believe you had spoken such a thing. You had surprised yourself as well. "That was different, and you wouldn't understand."

"You're right about that. Unless you were hoping to find God in the arms of those women, I couldn't possibly understand your reason."

"You are young, and you have yet to learn that life is often complicated."

You threw your arms up in the air, a wild gesture that probably resembled an agitated bird more than that of a rational woman. "Then let it be complicated. Hurt, and lust, and pain, and hunger; these aren't terrible things. They let us know that we are alive, and I've felt more of that here with these heathens than I ever did back home."

"You cannot possibly understand what you are saying," He argued back, and you thought he was going to lecture you further, but he took a moment to collect his breath. "My apologies. You sought my counsel, and I have only offered judgement. We should cling to each other in this desolate place if we are to survive the Northmen."

You didn't want to fight with him any longer either, but you could see that as far as Ivar and his people were concerned, you were not of one mind with Heahmund. Coming to him had erased some of your doubts, but you did not realize how much your tolerance towards the Vikings had shifted. There were bad men among them, but nothing anymore abhorrent than what you had seen from Saxons. 

"I'm sorry as well," You said, shifting back and forth on your feet. "I was quick to anger. Maybe I wasn't ready to admit in my heart how I have begun to change towards them."

"May I inquire something else about you? Seeing as I've already insulted you, I don't believe it is too bold to ask."

"You may," You said, permitting him. 

"If we were to be liberated by the King and his army this very moment, and brought back to Wessex, would you return to the Church?"

You came to your answer quickly and without trepidation. "No."

"I see." Heahmund didn't let on about how he felt about your answer, and you didn't want to know. Disappointing him seemed about the worst thing you could have done, and you didn't want to dwell on that. "(Y/N), you shouldn't have come here."

You frowned. "Why not?"

"We've been careless. Ivar knew you would come here. See there, the guard is gone."

You looked to where Heahmund's watch had been stationed to find the spot no longer occupied. The guard had taken his leave the moment you two had been engaged in your disagreement. Ivar must have known you would seek out Heahmund eventually. 

"It's fine," You said with more confidence than you felt. It was to be expected that Ivar would be waiting to speak with you again, and you knew he could have done so whenever he desired. He had held back on forcing you, but you didn't know if it was kindness or another manipulation on his part. "I think I'm ready to face him. There will be no more running for me."

"Go with the grace and strength God has given you. Even if you have turned from your path of the Church, God will never stop fighting for you."

You knelt before Heahmund. "Thank you, Bishop. I hope I am granted with clarity to see my true path."

You placed a parting kiss on his forehead and offered him a smile before standing. Taking a look around the courtyard you did not spot Ivar waiting for you. You knew he would find you though, and you began making your way back to the small room that you had been sharing with the other slaves who aided the healers. 

For such a short walk, one you had taken many times, it seemed to have grown in distance. You kept expecting Ivar or one of his guards to pop out and grab you, but nothing so substantial occurred. The faces you passed paid you no mind, and you arrived at your destination relieved and a little bit let down. You had been ready to get the confrontation over with.

You opened the door, ready to be met with the company of some of the other slaves. None of them spoke with you outside of your duties, and it bothered you. It was an act of self-preservation. They knew you held the attention of Ivar, and so that meant he spared them little mind. Better you than them was probably what many of them thought, and you couldn't fault them for that. It seemed you were fated to be alone. The only other slave who had gone out of her way to speak with you had been a spy, and you hadn't seen her since. Something about that felt deliberate.

When you entered inside of the cramped quarters, you did not find any of your bunkmates. You were alone with Ivar, and that meant his guard couldn't have been far behind. He had kept hidden, luring you into a false sense of security. 

"Hello," You greeted dumbly, not knowing what else to say. You kept tight by the door, not taking a step further in. Ivar was looking pensive, with an air of despondence clinging to him. 

"How is the Bishop fairing?"

"Resilient," You said, relaxing a bit that he didn't immediately discuss something of a more delicate nature. "He says he will fight for you."

"He doesn't have a choice. Either he fights or he dies, and I will need his strength soon enough," Ivar said, his severe tone causing you to flinch. With stiff movements, he maneuvered himself to stand, but he did not try to encroach upon your space. "The time to leave York has come, but some of my people have chosen to stay behind. Our army needs allies, but this business with the spy has made me doubtful of who I can trust."

"What will you do?" You asked, feeling out of depth to be having this conversation. You knew little of wars and alliances, and you didn't understand why Ivar was sharing this with you. 

"It's been decided that Ubbe will return home to Kattegat with a handful of warriors, under the pretense that he has abandoned our army. The woman ruling there murdered our mother, and it is likely she sent the spy."

"Where will you go then, if not home?"

Ivar hesitated, and you had never known him to look away when speaking with you. "I need to meet with Harald Finehair. He could be a potential ally to retake Kattegat...but I also suspect he sent the spy. The sons of Ragnar losing control of the Great Heathen army would benefit him in his bid to become King of Norway."

There was another man with lofty ambitions. The world must look different when you wake up as a Viking. You took a step forward, garnering Ivar's attention. 

"And where does he live?"

"In Vestfold, but you will not be going there," Ivar said, and he looked overcome with guilt. "I'm sending you with Ubbe to Kattegat. It is safer for you there."

"But I'm only a slave. What difference does it make where I go?"

"Harald and his men do not exercise restraint when it comes to Christians, and I can't have my eyes constantly on you nor can I keep a guard around one slave without arousing suspicion," He explained, but his reasoning was flawed. You had no doubt Heahmund would be going with him, and you knew Ivar didn't hold back when it came to murdering your people. "Ubbe will keep you safe, and Audhild will go with you as well."

You let out a dry chuckle, feeling any control over your life seeping through your fingers like sand. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do in Kattegat."

"I need you to stay alive," Ivar said with a fierceness that made it sound like an order. He crossed the short distance of the room before you could blink, and took your hands together to place something cold in your grasp. "Take this. It can take a life if you wield it right."

You looked down at the sheathed knife he had gifted you with. It was a heavy weight compared to the ones in the kitchen, and the hilt was carved into the shape of a wolf's head. You gave him a startled look before beginning to protest. "No, I cannot take a life Ivar."

You tried to return it to him, but he was forceful in making sure it stayed with you. "You will if someone wants to take yours. I won't let you die because of your stupid Christian beliefs about hell and perdition."

He squeezed his hand over the top of yours to secure your grip on the knife, and with the other he cupped the back of your neck, bringing you together for another kiss that you had been fearfully longing for. You didn't want to fight him, and you returned the kiss with all of the words you couldn't say. It wasn't a goodbye, you refused to believe that your time with this violent and vulnerable man was at an end. It was an 'until next we meet', and you cradled his jaw in your free hand, while you both still held onto the knife in the other. You don't know when you began to cry, only that the tears were silent as they slid down your face and transferred onto Ivar's cheeks. This caused him to hold you tighter. Even as the fire in the kiss dwindled, you clung to one another knowing this was the last moment you would share before you were to be parted.

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[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 5: Amnesia

“‘Amnesic’?” you echoed.

“Yes, amnesic,” Kim Sejin confirmed. “It’s made the situation much more complicated than it normally would have turned out. He won’t sleep and refuses to eat or take any painkillers. It was a miracle he accepted any medical treatment at all.”

“Amnesia merely affects your memory,” you said confidently. “It shouldn’t disturb his basic intelligence.”

Last year, Se-Eun had been fanatic about a manhwa or manga about a protagonist who had suffered that exact ailment, which resulted in her reading up on everything about it. And of course, she had poured all of that so very necessary - no, not really, not until now - information into your brain, so you were feeling pretty up to date about the condition. There were two main types of amnesia, but neither of them would make a person lose all of his senses.

“Well, to clarify, he mistrusts everyone.” Sejin averted his gaze, then continued quietly. “The kid doesn’t even recognize his group members. It was really… tough seeing that, though it was even tougher when I was forced to send them home with him being the way he is.” He cleared his throat, then met your gaze again. You thought you saw a glimmer of tears in his eyes before he blinked and it was gone. “He barely speaks. He won’t sleep if someone is in the room. And even though he can’t eat with his broken arm, he won’t let anyone feed him.”

“The last might have something to do with hospital food in general,” you said, trying your best to lighten up the mood. In all honesty, you felt as if someone was twirling around your intestines with a giant, hot fork. “Have you tried something else? Sweets? Fried chicken?”

“Nothing works,” Sejin said bitterly. “Not even the nurses or the doctors can win him over. He’s… a bit out of it, if you ask me.”

You undid your hair and ran a frustrated hand through it. “Why call me?” you exclaimed. “Why not his parents?”

“His parents have been contacted,” he began, “but nobody has replied. And it wasn’t exactly my intention to call you. Your number was the only unfamiliar one Taehyung found among Jungkook’s contacts. Neither of us thought it would be you, considering the ID, though I am glad it was.”

“Why?” you asked, only fleetingly wondering exactly what kind of nickname you had had the misfortune of receiving on Jungkook’s phone that had made both Sejin and someone named Taehyung so surprised. Demon fiancée? The spawn of Satan? A better question would also be how he had gotten your number in the first place. You didn't have his.

“What exactly do you think I might accomplish that none of you haven’t already thought of?” you went on. “We’re just family friends. Why not get any of his other acquaintances? Or why not his girlfriend?” A little bit of your earlier jealousy trickled into your voice, weighing it down. It broke painfully, reluctantly. You cringed at the pitiful sound.

“He’s been asking for you.”

You paled. “What?”

Kim Sejin wore a dead-serious expression. “As soon as the kid regained consciousness, your name was the first thing that jumped out of his mouth. And I did call Yi-Jae almost first, but when she arrived, he couldn’t recognize her either. It really broke her.”

You almost didn't hear him. Jungkook had called for you? He remembered you out of everyone?

“I'm going in,” you said and finally opened the door.

Sejin looked like he had wanted to say something else but you were already halfway inside. Sitting on the edge of one of two hospital beds with his booted feet planted firmly into the floor and back toward the doorway, was a lonely guy dressed familiarly in a large t-shirt and loose-fitting blue jeans. Layers of bandage encircled his head, his right arm rested in a basic splint and you noticed minor scratches and bruises across his body that had mostly been patched up. A few spots of maroon sullied the otherwise white of his t-shirt. Other than that, Jeon Jungkook looked completely fine.

As soon as you entered, he spun around. What had initially been an expression of suspicion across his features melted into a face of recognition - and joy.

“(Y/N)!” he exclaimed and abruptly stood and made a movement to go to you before stopping himself. His eyes darted to something behind you and his features stiffened.

Kim Sejin had walked in after you. You were quick to gather yourself and cleared your throat. “I think I should handle this on my own,” you told Sejin. “If you could just wait outside…?”

He nodded once before quickly leaving, closing the door after him. You had still caught the hurt in the man’s eyes, however.

“Took you long enough!”

Jungkook continued toward you, grimacing slightly when he had to lean on his left leg. But he was smiling again. At you.

“Sorry, I was watching paint dry,” you said automatically, your brain and tongue having gotten used to quick retorts with Jungkook. You couldn’t believe your eyes. Jeon Jungkook was happy to see you?

“Because that seems healthy to do.”

“Heard you got ran over,” you said, ignoring him as you tried to get a grip of the situation. He was amnesic, you would have to keep that in mind all the time. He had probably lost at least the last five or so years while with BTS. That would explain why he remembered you, since your relationship practically predated the dinosaurs.

But when had there been a time in your life when you two were happy to see each other?

“Yeah, accident,” Jungkook said as he halted in front of you. “Or so they tell me.”

This close, you could see some dirt still left underneath his ear, and he smelled of alcohol, the city and disinfectant. You tried not to look too concerned, adopting a casual pose with your arm crossed over your chest. But inside, your emotions and thoughts were in turmoil.

“You do look great for someone supposedly hit by a car,” you admitted after conspicuously eyeing him up and down. “Barely a scratch.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell them.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to you, almost causing you to flinch backward at the sudden lack of space between you. “I don’t trust anyone of them. I mean, I get that my arm needs bandaging and that I need rest. I can feel that, physically. But there were six or so guys crowding me just recently, people I have never seen in all of my life, that were all incredibly concerned. They were telling me everything would be alright, that they could help me get better and that they were happy I wasn’t dead. But all I could think about was: ‘How long have they just been sitting there, watching me?'”

“What’s so bad about that?” you asked and frowned. “Even if you don’t know them, didn’t it feel great waking up to people waiting for you?”

“No,” he said quietly as he averted his gaze. “Not when I don’t know them and they keep telling me how much I do.”

There it was: fear. You could read it in his mere voice.

“Then I guess it’s my turn to try and convince you,” you said carefully. “You’ve gotten amnesia, Jungkook, that’s why you can’t remember them. But for years now, you’ve spent almost every day with six guys, training, performing and living together. They are your hyungs. The seven of you are BTS, one of the biggest, most popular K-pop groups in the world. You stood on a stage in a completely filled stadium just a few hours ago. Are you sure you don’t even feel a tiny bit of recognition?”

“No. All I know is you.”

You felt your breath hitch in the back of your throat and your face flush with color. That had been an unexpected response.

Jungkook seemed as if he were waiting for you to reply but you couldn’t find your voice. With a frustrated sigh, he backed away from you and sank down on the ledge of the same hospital bed he had sat on when you entered. He leaned his torso forward, placed his elbows on his thighs and rested his head in the palms of his hands. You remained standing, as paralyzed.

“You are all I can think about,” he murmured after a long pause, then grimaced. “I think I was angry with you and that I had something really, really important to tell you. I was… I was going to see you but that’s about all I can recall. Everything else is too blurry. It hurts just trying to think about what I had for breakfast - I can’t even begin to imagine having been friends with those guys, even less performed with them a couple hours ago. I am just so confused and paranoid and--”

His voice broke, and he ceased talking. Your heart ached seeing him like that. He didn’t react when you moved closer, or even when you sat down next to him. He simply hid his face in his hands. You were tempted to reach out and touch him, comfort him, but even before you raised your arm, you recalled his eyes when he had looked at Park Yi-Jae. You recalled the ease with which he had moved to let her kiss his cheek.

This was wrong. Everything had gone so terribly wrong.

Still, you draped an arm over his shoulder blades and gently squeezed his bicep with your other hand. He tensed slightly, then relaxed as you began speaking.

“We’ll sort this through,” you told him softly. “One step after another. I don’t know how, and I doubt I’m even nearly enough qualified to help you, but I will do my very best. I refuse to see you break because of this.”

“I… I have wanted to become a singer for so very long...”

His voice was only one step above a whisper. It took all your willpower not to embrace him and hold him until he told you to stop. You knew it wouldn’t be right.

“I know,” you replied. “I won’t let you lose this opportunity. I’ll help you through this, Jeon Jungkook.”

One of his hands found yours, and clamped around it. “Even though I’ve been horrible toward you for the last ten, fifteen years or so?”

“Oh, so that you remember?” you asked while laughing. “I was starting to think you were a lost cause. Well, shoot, there goes the plan I had for using your pretty face to make money in a very illegal way.”

He chuckled, but wouldn’t show his face yet. “That’s dark, (Y/N). Cruel too. You don’t need any more money.”

You laughed again, feeling tremendously better now. “I’m just trying to lighten up the mood. We’re in a hospital, you know.”

“Thank you for telling me,” he said sarcastically. “I wasn’t aware of that until just now.”

“No problem.” You couldn’t help but smile, even as you tried to regain a serious tone. “Jungkook, even though you can be a stupid brat more often than not, I have to admit that you’re one of the most head-strong, unyielding and hard-working people I know. If you can’t make it through this, I don’t think there’s anyone out there who can.”

Finally, he lifted his head and turned to look at you. There were no tears staining his cheeks, but his cheeks and nose were rosy and his brown eyes glittered, like he were just on the brink of crying. You gave him your gentlest smile then scooted away, feeling your heartbeats hasten and your skin grow warm underneath the weight of his gaze.

“Thank you.”

His hand wouldn’t release yours. Your heart was racing and slammed against the inner side of your ribcage so hard you thought it was trying to break out and run away - at least you were in the right place to get a cardiac arrest.

But still, he had simply thanked you. Why were you getting so weird because of that?

You cleared your throat and pointedly looked at his hand. Jungkook eyes widened in surprise and he quickly let go of you.

“So,” you began as you stood up, eager to get some distance between you two. “The first thing we need to do is get you something to eat and drink. And then you need to sleep. By the way, why aren’t you in a hospital gown?”

“I’m not hungry, and I don’t want to wear one,” he replied. “It makes me look sickly and dying, which I’m not. I’ve just injured my arm, that’s it.”

“Well, I don’t think sweaty, bloody clothes are the most optimal to rest in. I will have to find some new clothes for you to wear,” you said, scrutinizing him from head to toe. He was athletic and lithe, yet tall enough that he probably had to size upwards in most brands. While spending a moment trying to figure out the most optimal clothing store, you realized that since they lived together, his group members probably knew where he had his wardrobe. You decided you would go there as soon as possible.

“You don’t need to spend money on me,” he said, his voice suddenly harsh, his face hardening to stone.

You frowned, but decided against prying. He needed to sleep as soon as possible.

“Don’t worry,” you told him, “I won’t. I’ll find something fresh you can loan by tomorrow. Are you hungry? Should I return with some fast food or something first?”

“You’re leaving?”

You nodded and checked your phone. “I have to go to school in less than six hours. I can try to come at lunch tomorrow, but most likely, I won’t be here until late afternoon. So you’ve got to tell me now if you want fried chicken or not. I’ll even buy some Pepsi if you’re sweet about it.”

You stood with your back against him as you searched for your parents’ driver in the contact list. You were waiting for him to pick up when Jungkook spoke.

“I won’t be able to sleep without you here.”

You opened your mouth to make fun of him when you saw his expression. It was that frightened expression you remembered from a long time back.

You knew you couldn’t leave him.

“Fine,” you said as you canceled the call. “But I will have to leave early in the morning. I can’t miss school.”

“As long as you wake me before you go.”

Jungkook looked at you with eyes you could not help but sympathize with. Yet you understood, he had to rest.

“I will,” you lied.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Satisfied, he began lifting one leg after the other onto his bed when you stopped him. After taking off his boots and helping him with the paper-thin blanket, you washed your hands, face and mouth in a basin that was in the room. By the time you thought you wouldn’t smell like noodles anymore and you started drying yourself with a paper towel, you heard light snoring from behind you. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Jungkook must have fought back sleep for a long time while mouthing off the doctors and nurses.

You unzipped your jacket and hung it over one of seven chairs in the room, together with your purse. You set an alarm on your phone and plugged it into a socket that until then had powered an ugly bedside lamp. And finally, you found yourself sitting next to him on the other hospital bed in the room, watching his peaceful face.

You weren’t in love with Jeon Jungkook. You truly weren’t.

But you might have just begun falling for him.

[fnf-brain-rot]

[Whitty x Boyfriend] Chapter 8 - it's not over

Whitty had the most fun he's had in a while yesterday. He also discovered a few more emotions.

He knew happiness. Sadness and anger a little too much. There was a new feeling. A fluttery feeling in his gut. After they went home from the carnival, Boyfriend was in good enough spirits to practice affection again. The snuggled on the couch for a while, and Boyfriend had tried to explain the hickey to him. He didn't understand why you would bite someone you love, or why they would ask for it. Probably because he has teeth of steel, which is a sure fire way for a chunk of flesh getting ripped out.

He's been hearing a lot  about this Pico guy, and honestly he didn't really like him. He just sounded like an asshole, no matter how many times Boyfriend reassures him that he's not.

"I'm gonna go talk to him tomorrow, and figure out where our relationship is. I kinda jumped into it really fast. Like sure I like the guy but.. I.. " Boyfriend lost his voice, and Whitty stared down at him in confusion. They were sitting on the couch, Whitty's legs crossed bed style and Boyfriend lying in his lap side ways, so his legs dangled over the taller man's knee.

"You what?" Whitty spoke up after another moment of silence, only for Boyfriend to sigh. "I dunno.. Something about it doesn't feel right." He then uttered. "Can I go with you?" Whitty asked the first thing to come to mind, and Boyfriend looked back up at him, giving a small laugh. "No, no.. We have to talk it out ourselves. That's like taking your child to a business meeting." He stated the last part more to himself. Whitty huffed. "I am not a child." He raised his voice in a whine, as if to purposefully create a counter argument for his statement.

"I can call Gigi and she can stay here with you in case you get lonely. Just know that if you end up coming with me, I'll have to introduce you to another person." Boyfriend slid off of his lap and stretched. It was about two in the afternoon, so Pico should be up and moving around. And hopefully not cranky.

Whitty shrugged, so Boyfriend decided to call her anyway. He apparently cried last time he left, so he wouldn't allow him to be alone in the house again for maybe an hour. It's been a week and Whitty was still in the same place. The blue haired male could tell he was starting to get antsy, so much so that even their cuddling wouldn't put his anxious thoughts to rest. Girlfriend should be good enough company to take her mind off of it.

"Alright, she'll be here in about ten minutes. I'm gonna head out, probably be gone for a few hours. You can handle ten minutes alone, right?" Boyfriend looked back at Whitty from the front door, said bomb remaining on the couch, squeezing his plushie. He nodded wordlessly. "Alright.. I'll be back, be uh.. be careful." Boyfriend smiled sheepishly in his direction, then headed out the door.

________________________________________________________________________________

Boyfriend made sure to take his time walking to Pico's, feeling that little knot in his gut grow ever so much larger. He honestly hated confronting his problems, even if they're one he created himself. How awkward would it be to hand Pico's own underwear back to him today? Maybe he should just keep it a little longer..

Upon stepping onto the un-welcome mat of the apartment's front door, he knocked a couple times. He kinda hoped Pico was taking a shower or something. He wanted a reason to wait longer, But Gigi already said Bee would be coming over anyway, so he couldn't really get out of it.

Boyfriend stood there for maybe a good five minutes, waiting for an answer. Just when he was about to walk off,  he heard the shuffle of about five different locks, then the creak of the wooden door. Boyfriend jumped a bit in surprised, then turned to see the ginger in all his glory. Well.. maybe not so glorious. He looked like he hadn't had sleep at all in the past couple days they even talked, which wouldn't be any world record for him. He inwardly cringed, thinking he might be the reason Pico lost sleep. At least it looked like he did change clothes though. "H-Heyyy.. Picooo.." The blue haired male started awkwardly, showing him a crooked smile.

Pico barely reacted. He blinked slowly, then grunted in acknowledgement. He turned on his heel, walking back into his little apartment. Boyfriend thought it best to follow him, since he didn't slam the door in his face like he was expecting him to. All he could smell when he walked in was coffee. Like it's the only thing that went down in there after that night. He took his shoes off at the front door, bringing his little duffle bag to the front of his body.

He made his way into the living room, setting the bag by the couch and taking in the surroundings. he didn't trash the place too bad, though some things Boyfriend had moved while he was cleaning had been moved back, obnoxiously so. "So uh.. You been okay?" He called out to Pico, who had walked into his kitchen. A grunt soon followed, the ginger returning with another mug of coffee that smelled like it didn't have any sugar in it.

Boyfriend stood stiffly next to the couch, while Pico sat down on the cushion, placing his mug on the table and leaning back lazily. It seemed like he didn't care, but Boyfriend knew he was coping. "Look, I know leaving that was pretty shitty." He started, beginning to fidget with his thumbs a bit. "And I can explain!"

"Well. I'm listening." Pico turned in his spot on the couch, resting his elbow on the headrest of the couch, and settings his head on his fist. "This guy.. He's sorta got some separation anxiety, like.. really bad separation anxiety." Boyfriend lifted his hands and pointed in a random direction. "And he doesn't have a phone, and me and Gigi are like.. the only people he can trust so far, and-"

"Separation anxiety? You barely know each other." Pico scoffed almost humorously, an unamused expression on his face. "In fact last I recall, he blew up on you. Why would he want to stay with you?" Boyfriend's face began to heat up from anger at his statement, and he turned away. "That's what I'm trying to tell you! He stays at my house now because he has no place to go!" Pico scoffed again, looking away as well. "So how long is he staying there for? He gonna be there until he can get his own apartment and leave you?" He questioned him calmly, and Boyfriend looked back at him in bewilderment.

"I...I don't know!"

"So what're you doing here, Bee."

"What..?"

Pico stood up, putting his hands on his hips and walking over to him. Boyfriend backed up a bit, subconsciously fearing he would push him, hit him, something. "You don't like me as much as you think you do." He leaned down to Boyfriend's height. He could see the hurt in the ginger's eyes. It was like history repeating itself. Boyfriend put a hand on his own chest, staring up at him for a long moment. He didn't want to admit it. It was a heat of the moment thing. he acted on weak emotions. Of course it was gonna fuck him up in the long run.

"You like him. Don't you? There's no point in lying. Especially to yourself." Pico sighed and stood back up. "S' obvious by the way you always talk about him. That look on your face.." He clenched his teeth, but he paused when he felt Boyfriend's arms wrap around his torso.

"I'm sorry, Pico.." He hid his face in his chest. Pico knew touch was the best way he could convey his emotions, yet somehow he couldn't stand him touching him right now. It hurt a little bit too much. No matter how much Pico wanted to say he didn't care and toss it under the rug, he couldn't. Boyfriend was leaving. Again. He even had the chance to have him to himself, and couldn't even do that right.

"I.. I hope we can still be friends though." The words hit  Pico directly in his chest. The taste of iron flooded his mouth as his jaw clenched, and he bit on his tongue. "Yeah.." He spoke after a moment. "That's just fine." He didn't look at Boyfriend when he let go, but he could feel his reassuring smile. "Nothing will change between us though, right?" He gently pushed his fist against Pico's chest.

He finally looked down at him. There was something so warming about how bright he was. he chuckled under his breath, then nodded.  "Yeah.. dumbass." Boyfriend cried out as Pico pushed his head away, and retaliated by punching him in the shoulder. "Well that was.. easier than expected." Boyfriend walked over to his duffle bag, pulling out the clothes he took from the man that night. "Oh uh here, your underwear. I washed it for you." He smiled nervously and held the clothing out to him, crudely folded and horribly wrinkled. As much as he cleans, the fundamentals of cleaning with him are awfully subpar.

"Thanks.." Pico took them, tucking them easily under his arm. "Well.. is it okay if I head out? We can hang again next weekend, it'll be fun." Boyfriend picked up his bag. "Sure. Don't let the door hit you on the way out." Pico teased him, and Boyfriend gasped, putting a hand on his chest. "Rude!" He exasperated, and the two laughed at their stupidity. "I'll see you later yeah?"

"Yeah.."

Boyfriend slipped his shoes back on, making his way to the front door. He felt accomplished. He just fixed them. Nice. He celebrated quietly to himself and walked out the door, closing it behind him.

He skipped his way back home, muttering to himself about how great a friend Pico was, and how understanding he was. He couldn't help it when he thought about missing that dick. The thought made him blush, and he scolded himself for even thinking that.

"I'm back!" He exclaimed once he stepped foot in his house. "Bee! Hey come look what me and Whitty did!" Girlfriend's voice piped from the kitchen, and he followed. The little table was covered in makeup supplies. Whitty and Girlfriend sat next to each other. "I just finished Whitty's look! How do you like it?" Girlfriend had on a full face, and Whitty just had some eyeliner, eye shadow, some blush. "I kinda like it.." Whitty hummed sheepishly. Boyfriend snorted at the two, putting a hand on his mouth as he sputtered with laughter.

"W-What?"

________________________________________________________________________________

Pico held the pair of underwear to his nose. Not his own of course, no. Boyfriend's underwear that he had left at his place that night. It still smelled so much like him. So much...  "I'm not losing my chance again.." He mumbled to himself, staring at his little work table diagonal to his bed. A poster from Whitty's rock star days hung on the cork board, and another, more recent photo. It wasn't taken by him, but by someone else. It was a photo of Whitty sitting in the alley, sometime right before Boyfriend found him again. He was completely oblivious. "Fuck the money.." He laughed, sitting up on his bed. Just as fast, a growl rose from his throat, and he grabbed is beloved mac10 and fired a shot at the picture, which of course hit the image of Whitty right in the head.

"I want you dead."

[me-and-your-husband]

Need Someone

Summary: Reader gets into some trouble, and doesn’t know who else to call besides her best friend’s dad, District Attorney Andy Barber.

Warnings: age gap, mentions of kidnapping and sexual assault.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: Lets say reader is 18 and in senior year. 

There’s nothing in this chapter, but the next part will definitely have some of that in it ;)

     Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I stepped out of my door, swinging it shut behind me. The chilly fall mornings where you could see your breath in front of you and just one layer wasn’t enough to keep you warm came quick. 

    Checking the time on my watch, I realized that I was already running ten minutes late to pick Jacob up. Being best friends with somebody who doesn’t have their own car has it’s downs and...well, it has it’s downs. I don’t mind picking Jake up on my way to school or dropping him off; we’ve been best friends for almost eleven years. I spent more time at his house than I did mine. The Barbers were like an extension of my family, I could always count on them.

    I turned the radio down slightly as I pulled up in front of the Barber’s house. It shocked me a little when I didn’t find Jacob on the stoop shaking his fist at me for being late. I ignored it and just scrolled through Instagram while I was waiting. 

   First it was two minutes, then five, ten, and then nearing fifteen when I finally got my ass out of my car to knock on his door. Ready to give him a good old lecture on how he is not only wasting his time, but my time too, The door swings open and I’m met with the familiar face of his father.

    Andy was a very respectable man. He was great at his job, well accomplished, polite, had a great family, and essentially had the American dream, built up from a life of nothing. Despite this, the man was also fucking beautiful, to say the least. His neatly-trimmed beard had always been adorned on his face as long as I’d known him, his deep blue eyes paired with that boyish grin felt like getting whiplash whenever it made an appearance. It annoyed me to the ends of the earth that this man was not only happily married, but also my best friend’s father. Therefore, I try my hardest to push those aches aside and focus on maintaining a healthy relationship with Mr. Barber.

     But that’s hard to do when he brings me in for a hug, like right now, and my face naturally buries into his broad shoulder, where I can smell his woodsy cologne that makes me feel things. Or when he pulls away, and fixes the tie that he wears to work everyday, and my eyes can’t help but travel to his hands around his neck, and wonder what they’d be like around mine-

    No. That’s weird, stop thinking about that. He asks me about school and the usual, comfortable small talk, until Jacob comes barreling down the stairs waving an Advanced Trigonometry text book in the air.

“Found it!” he yells, frantically attempting to get his shoes on while eating a piece of toast. What a mess. I chuckle.

“Jake, you’ve got to be more organized. Your room looks like a sweat-shop,” Andy said in an accusing tone, walking away, forcing me to look at how good his ass looked in those slacks.

“It would concern me that you know what a sweat-shop looks like, Dad, but I don’t doubt it at this point,” Jacob states, simultaneously stuffing his mouth with peanut butter toast. “By the way, my room does not look like a sweat-shop. Y/N can vouch for that,” Jacob says, finishing off his toast, and both the Barber Boys look at me. Andy crosses his arms, his biceps tightens around his shirt, and his eyebrow raises in a playful “oh really?” sort of way. 

An awkward laugh escapes my lips, and I change the subject as fast as I can. “Okay, Jake, let’s get out of here. Bye, Mr. Barber! See you after school, if we come back here to study. Tell Mrs. Barber I said hi,” I said, stumbling out the front door, not waiting for a reply. I walk to my car, and with Jacob far enough behind me to be able to hear me, I mutter to myself two words. “Fuck me.”

     Sitting at the Barbers’ kitchen table, I stuffed my textbook into my backpack. It had been a long night of studying with Jacob, and it was getting late. It didn’t even hit me until halfway through the study session that I’d have to walk home, remembering I dropped my car off at my house after school. It was only a twenty-minute walk, but in the dark was worse. I shrugged it off and tried to hide my diminished will to leave behind a yawn. 

     Normally, Mr. Barber would be here to offer me a ride home, and insist, because, “I’ve seen how dangerous the world is, Y/N. Especially for women,”. Jacob walked me to the door, as I slid my shoes on my feet. I stepped onto the porch, and his figure leaned against the door frame. He shoved his hands in his pockets, 

“See you in the morning, Jake,” I said, giving him a cursory wave and turning on my heel. I reached into my jacket pocket and felt around for my earbuds, shoving them in and pressing play on my Spotify playlist. Through the music, I could hear a faint “See ya,”, and a door being closed. 

     Walking through the streets of Newton in the dark wasn’t particularly something one looks forward to. This is when all the druggies come out to buy their next fix, and the psychopaths and stalkers victimize the innocent. I roll my eyes at myself, thinking. “Oh my God, you’ll be fine. Stop worrying about nothing,”. 

   With one earbud in my ear, I’m walking down a main road, taking cursory glances to the huge SALE signs outside of shop windows. The calm eleven o’clock traffic passes me, probably without a second thought to my character. Reaching the end of the busy street, I take a right to one of the residential avenues leading to my neighbourhood. The streetlights cast an orange glow on the sidewalk, crickets chirp in this area and keep the night alive. On the fence of one of the houses, a black cat is seen during it’s night’s rest. I exhale sharply through my nose out of amusement; a black cat, probably the oldest Old Wives Tale. Those things are overrated, anyways. 

    I’m just about at the end of the street and entering my neighbourhood when I hear a door slam to my right. Taking out my earbud with a manner as to not make a noise, I frantically spin around, looking for the sound. Only a few house lights are left on, but most are porch lights. Heavy footsteps stalk towards me; and I take off in the direction I was headed in. But the only problem, a man already stands in my path. My stomach drops. A big man, about 6′4 and beefy, mostly bald with tattoos adorning his arms and neck. My flight, fright or freeze instincts kick in, and I bolt in the other direction.

   At least if I can get back to Jacob’s house, I’ll be alright. I run, but I’m no track star. I drop my bag, in hopes to speed up, and reach into my jacket pocket and yank my phone out, while simultaneously taking short glances behind me every few seconds to see if the man has stopped running after me yet. He hasn’t. I’m starting to sweat and my heart’s racing, my breath hitching in my throat. For a short second, I wonder who to call. What a great time for my parent’s to be on a business trip. I dial Jacob, straight to voicemail. I try again, voicemail. I let out a shriek when I feel the man’s hand swipe across my back, almost grabbing me. I’m met with a crossing, and don’t even think before running across the street.

    I hear an innuendo screeching noise, and freeze as I’m caught in the headlights of the car that came to a dead stop. I continue my sprint, the man basically on my heels. Just my luck, I didn’t tie my shoelaces up when I slipped my shoe’s on at Jacob’s. I trip over my own feet, sending me flying forward into the pavement. I hear an amused grunt, and am yanked up by the hair. I let out a yelp, which was hard to get out. My eyes traveled down, to see that the man’s other hand was on my throat. I reached up to claw it off, but the lack of airflow was making everything fuzzy. Things got blurrier and darker, until it just stopped. 

     My head throbs as my eyes flutter open. I immediately groan as I move my hands to rub my temples. When my hands don’t move, I feel the thick ropes bounding them to the headboard. I’m on a bed, in a strange room, with my hands tied. The screams for help die in my throat, as I can’t speak. I try to loll my head to the side to take in more of my surroundings, but all I can see is the scary-looking syringe laid on the bedside table. I try to kick my legs, but they won’t budge. 

    Hot tears stream down my face as I realize I can’t do anything about my current predicament. I don’t know how long has passed when I start getting a little movement in my feet and face. Even longer passes and I can move my whole body, just not adequately. This strength is spent trying to get out of the ties, which just rubs against my wrists and makes it hurt more. 

     After a while of struggling against the ropes, I hear the hinges of a squeaky door swing open. A low rumble of a laugh bounces off of the walls and makes my stomach drop lower. I halt all movement, and don’t dare to make a noise.

 The man appears at the foot of the bed, and slowly hovers above me. 

“We’re gonna have some fun, little one. Will you be good? If you’re good, I’ll take the ropes off,” he says in a menacing tone, to which I frantically nod my head.

“Okay, good little one,” Playing it cooperative is the best way to play it until I can find some way to get out of this. I hope I can before he does anything. 

[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 21

Description: The Hanging Gardens of Babel

Notes: there is an innate human need to be remembered for both accomplishments and person; for those thousands of years from now to look back and know that people have always been human. WC: 6.9k

+

He'd trained before, but this was different.

For one, he didn't usually have an audience, and second, he didn't usually have to respect his teacher, either. Tall buildings and their shadows that once surrounded them were now turned to dead gardens outside the manor of his employment, acting as a 'private' circle of study surrounded by the half-wall around the property.

He panted as he lifted himself to his feet, taking up his staff once more. The trainer was the head guard, Urtak, a man who Ahk was pretty sure did not like him, and who did nothing to try and negate that belief. Sometimes Ahk would complain about this to you and you'd try to comfort him, but now you just laughed whenever the guard knocked him to his back.

"Come now, Aganu," Urtak said, pacing and slamming the end of his staff against the hard ground, crackling into the dry earth. "Can't expect to protect Ukani's home and guests with this technique."

"I do not speak Akkadian," Ahk repeated for the fourth time that day, grunting as he jumped up again.

"He is saying you are a pussy!!" You yelled in Egyptian from the servant's quarters' roof.

"Thank you, Yogi," Ahk called sarcastically, a bitter smile on his face.

Ahk cast one annoyed glance in your direction before Urtak's staff was hooking behind his knee again, forcing him to the ground, again. His hands were scratched, red, and dry, irritated further by the rough ground and spiky plants below him. He took a deep breath––or as deep a breath as he could in the dust cloud––and took up his spear once more, facing Urtak with a malice lacing his parted lips. Years spent training would aid him now, but he drew a blank on how to approach his opponent.

Urtak's staff came whizzing down from above, aiming directly for his skull. Instinctively, Ahk whipped his own spear up, dislocating the staff's projectory. The guard tried a couple more times, coming down upon his midsection or legs in hopes of knocking Ahkmen back down to the ground. This time he blocked––though, it did take him a few more moves before he realized he could now parry in return.

Before attempting to strike at his side in any way, or to knock his balance off kilter, he stabbed the blunt end of his staff into Urtak's stomach, punching the breath out of him.

A distant 'WHOOO!' came from behind him and he laughed, glancing to you in time to see your grin and a lute swinging about in your hand. It gave ample distraction that led to Urtak taking revenge in an unconventional manner when it came to staff fights; he punched him in the face.

Ahkmen groaned loudly as he stumbled back, still on his feet but with his hands covering his nose and mouth. Something warm was dripping from his nose, and as he pulled his hands away he found blood, coating his skin in thick drops.

"Aaaaaand," your lute began to play a joyous little tune as you sang, "he get fuck in the face!"

"Those aren't even words!" Ahk yelled back through his laughter.

"Pay attention," Urtak said stiffly, bringing his staff to backslap Ahk's head.

Of course training had to come just when his bruises and aches were healing from falling over a tarp fence taller than his whole body. Now everything was back tenfold, aching from old pain and biting from new. The only good part was that now you were both being paid, meaning you could afford a couple luxuries, such as a lavender healing ointment you found on your way home from the brewery that day.

Ahkmen spent a good deal more of his freetime sleeping than you did, napping beneath the warm, mud roof, but safe from the burning rays of the sun. Birds tweeted about outside, their songs muffled through the thick walls. Flies managed to get inside. To his fortune, no one else was in the servant's quarters, and he could splay out on the biggest bed. He continued to doze in the warmth, resting his creaking joints until footsteps sounded through the dry underbrush, crunching beneath small feet.

"Aganu?" Came your soft voice, your knuckles knocking against the cool, clay doorway.

He let out a muffled moan, regretfully moving himself to sit up straight.

"How've you been, my dear?" He asked, sniffing to clear his still-bloody nose.

"Better than you," you said as you knelt beside him.

You carried several different things in your hands, including a damp cloth, a bandage, a small bottle of honey, and the ointment you bought without him.

"What's that?" He asked.

"For the scraping," you said, taking his hand and resting it in your lap palm up.

The cork popped out of the jar, tossed onto the bed as you poured some of the ointment onto your hands. Ahk watched in interest as you took his hand, washing his skin with the cool mixture, and partially burning the more sensitive cuts. He hissed as you passed over the largest.

"Do you think that this is good for you?" You asked as you looked up.

"What, the ointment or –"

"The fighting," you chuckled.

"Ah. Well, it has been good to rehearse some of my moves," he said with a shrug.

You nodded, continuing to massage the red marks.

"Then I can protect you better," he said.

"My little boy," you grinned, pinching his cheek with your lotion-clad fingers. He scrunched up his face, wiping the treatment away.

"I'm not a little boy," he said flatly.

"But you are my – or, mine," you said.

"A little." He nodded vaguely.

Your affections had been switching unpredictably the last few days, since around when he snuck into the King's garden, so he never knew how to react to certain things you said. Sometimes you would snap at him for things he hadn't ever considered, but other times, like this, you tied him to you, caring for wounded muscles and mind.

Once you were done with both his hands, you moved on to his scuffed knees, and gently rubbed the ointment in there. Again he flinched back, but you held him tight in place.

"What are you going to be doing for the party?" He asked after a few minutes of silence, spent convincing himself it'd be odd to reach forward and tangle his fingers in your unkempt hair.

"I am with the beer, and the food," you said, glancing up sparingly. "I am one of the people who does not talk the whole time."

"Oh, don't worry," he sighed, sitting back. "So am I."

It'd be the first event Ahk ever attended where he wasn't expected to look like a God, or to perform some heavenly speech that assured the listening people of his nation.

Later that same day it would be announced to the staff at large that a member of the royal family would be attending as an honored guest of the estate owner's––whose name was Ukani––three, triplet daughters. It was the first time Ahk had seen the identical girls, though you had clearly met them before judging by your glazed over expression. It was also announced that because of this, all the servants and guards would have to be wearing proper attire––something that fit a nobleman's party better than plain skirts and dirtied dresses.

Every servant in line let out a long groan, though most were subdued in the face of the stewardess. She glared down each of you thoroughly.

"I'm sure you'll be glad to learn these will be supplied for you. You won't need to get anything on your own," she said, and everyone seemed to fare much better with that.

She drilled into the eleven of you standing in that line––including yourselves and the other four new recruits–-that respect of the family and their friends was vital, and that employment would not last should that respect be breached. Ahkmen wondered as he watched her steely eyes if guards and servants were treated like this in his own home by the overseers; his personal servant, Naguib, hadn't said anything about it. Then again, Ahk never asked.

You were soon dismissed, and you and Ahk immediately went to each other.

"I do not like this," you said, crossing your arms. Clearly the dress code bothered you, even if it was financially stable.

"Don't worry," he chuckled, "I'm sure you'll look fine."

"I am not a doll."

"Really? You're small enough to be one –"

Before he could laugh at his own joke you punched him in the gut, laughing when he clutched his stomach. Of course, it didn't hurt all that much, but it did take him greatly by surprise.

Steaming buns filled with mashed dates smelled more heavenly than he ever could've imagined. The shop was only across the plaza from the brewery, as well––it gave him an ample opportunity to dash over, purchase a couple, and run back before you finished preparing the same batch throughout the ten you were starting today. Experiments never ended with you––continuous tests and studies had to be conducted.

He jogged down the steps, ducking beneath the tarp doorway with a cloth sack in hand; within it, the buns. The scent of broiling beer wafted thick in the small stirring room, the many fires of different bubbling pots warmed the area as well, and the heat remained trapped beneath the tarp ceiling. Sunlight poured in through gaps between the ceiling and the wall, illuminating wisps of smoke rising from a small plate of incense burning opposite the entrance. A few of the brewers discussed things quietly among themselves as he passed. Familiarity became this room; humid, almost unpleasantly warm, and smelling of nothing more than sweet, honeyed beer. And you.

"How's it coming?" Ahk asked, stopping in front of your stand, the warm desert in his hand clutched to his chest.

"Good, I am with the, uh..." you paused as you pumped the stir stick up and down through the thick malt, "the saffron."

"Smells nice," he said, earning a smile from you.

"Thanks many," you said.

He chuckled, shifting his weight as he looked bashfully down.

"Oh, I got you something," Ahk said after seeing the pouch again. He released the drawstring, pulling out one of the buns.

"Oooh," you said as you took it. "What is it?"

"Some sort of date dessert, I don't think I've ever tried one of these before."

Within the date paste were chewy nuts which, after a moment, tasted distinctly like pistachios. You hummed pleasurably with your first bite, your cheeks puffing out with how massive of a bite you'd taken.

Conversation continued throughout the couple rows of stirring pots, must of the words muffled beneath the churning of beer. Ahkmen finished his bun quicker than you did, and spun slowly round to scan the room before his attention fell back to you, watching as you finished.

"Good?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Very," you assured him.

More murmurs and whispers had him turning around again, trying to look for who was speaking in such noticeable whispers.

"What do you talk about all day with these people?" Ahk asked as he spun back round to you, his hands on his hips.

"I do not talk much," you admitted. "I do not talk good in Akkadian, but I do hear what they say."

"So... what do they talk about?"

"Oh, they have parents, and children, and lovers... and they have the beer, also. They, uh.. they do talk about you," you added hesitantly.

"Me?" He asked incredulously.

He turned around and, sure enough, two women's eyes darted from the back of his head down to their work.

"Wait, why?" He asked, suddenly horrified by the products of his imagination. So much so that he didn't notice his hands gripping the lip of your pot, soon to be burned by the heat. Once he noticed, he ripped his hands away, scanning the red marks on his palms

"Aganu, do not do that," you said in a tired sigh, clunking the spoon down in the bowl.

You stepped down from your stool, taking him by his wrist and leading him over to a corner of the brewery stocked with shelves. The class and clay bottle clinked together brightly as you shuffled through them, expertly finding a small, black bottle with an equally adorable cork. A pop came from it as you pulled it out, placing your finger over the mouth and shaking it upside down.

"What is that?" He asked quietly as he looked over your shoulder.

"It is an oil, for burns," you said, concentrating greatly as you organized the cork, the bottle, and your oil-covered finger onto one hand.

"Oh. Does it happen a lot?"

"Yes," you said with an irate groan that had Ahk chuckling. "Harmu come in here and make love words with the women, and – and take them off the beer, and that makes the batch fail. That is a lot of barley, gone."

"Ah," he breathed out.

While you talked you took his hand, displaying the burnt palm and coating it with the oil on your finger. Since there was only a little bottle of it, you used very little with each dip into the oil, and thus had to flip the bottle much more frequently over your finger.

"It is still okay to eat, but it is not good at all," you said, shaking your head.

"You've tried it then?"

"I have smelled it," you said.

He belted out a laugh.

"Am I one of the... what did you call them? Harmu?"

"Yes, uh... fuck, what is it in Egyptian?" You closed your eyes, your face screwed up in a frown. "I can only remember the Akkadian and the Harappan."

"But am I one of them?

You looked up, almost surprised by his question.

"Oh, no, you do not make love with women here," you said.

Ahkmen sighed very, very deeply, just barely staunching the circus of laughter in his chest.

"Please don't say that again."

The whole of the incident was forgotten by the time you were walking home, bathed in the shadow of the tall city walls. Most of the stores you passed were now closed, making way for warm nights and a hot meal, the latter of which you looked forward to. It took a little getting used to, but eventually the porridge-type beer served at the estate rubbed off on you.

Until then, you wandered through the streets of Babylon, absorbing the colors bursting around you, before sinking into the quiet of night once more.

By the time the stone walls of the estate came into view, life around you had dimmed into such quiet moments resigned to the windows of nearby houses. Crickets chirped in the absence of thundering footsteps.

Neither of you spoke much––sometimes commentating on stray cats or dogs, or the bugs that jumped in and out of view, but little more than that. Part of it was Ahkmen's doing, as he was usually the first to say something, and as of right now he was far too absorbed in his own thoughts to make any such conversation. But, like usual, he was still engrossed in you, dreaming of something that came to his sleepy mind a few hours ago.

"Husband!" You suddenly exclaimed, your eyes widening as recognition washed over you.

"What??"

"That is the word I did not know, harmu, it is husband," you said with a grin.

"Ohh," he said. "You scared me."

"Sorry," you said, and leant into him, holding his arm to your chest.

Ah, right. That's what a heart palpitation felt like, beating wildly in his chest at the feeling of your heat. Even in the warm evening he revelled in the touch. So maybe it was alright, he reasoned––maybe you really had forgiven him, and done readily so, leaving Ahk himself to build this discomfort in your presence that fed off his uncertainty.

Perhaps he should live more in the moment––that is what he thought, and he debated it greatly during your small dinner atop the servant's quarters roof.

The two of you chewed in silence for a little while, enjoying the warmth of the porridge as quiet murmurs below you broke the creaking of crickets. Someone down in the quarters was plucking at a lute, but made no particular melody, and Ahk imagined them leant back on their bed, their head pressed against the wall and their eyes closed as they played. It'd been a while since he'd heard you play, and he'd never heard you actually sing before for purposes other than making fun of him.

While he listened he stared ahead at the city's silhouette, from the dips marking streets to the towers reaching the Milky Way. He squinted to see the steps of a pyramid––not entirely unlike the step pyramid of Djoser––and frowned when he couldn't identify its' use. Temples were built in the form of ziggurats in Babylon, not pyramids.

It hit him after a few more seconds of staring, and before he could think it through he blurted something out that he couldn't quite hear.

"I think we should go see one of the gardens here," he said, recogniing the vines and flora that draped from the steps of the tower. "They've been taunting me lately with their grandeur."

You chuckled, leaning back and saying, "okay... but I have garden work, here, tomorrow."

"Of course. Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, always," you said with a nod.

"You said the women talk about me. What do they say?" He asked.

"Oh," a smile spread across your face as you looked away, "oh, not any words too bad. It is... you do not speak Akkadian, that is not right for them, you know? And you do have clothes a little... um, not Karanduniash. You speak only to me and all you say to them is I do not know Akkadian in Akkadian. That is also a little..."

"Strange?" He offered.

"A little," you nodded, shrugging in hopes of lessening the blow.

"I've never been strange before," he said quietly.

"What?" You looked up from the floor to meet his eye.

"Well, my father was rich so a lot of people treated me with great respect. If I wanted to I could have had hordes of friends and followers, so it was definitely my own choice to stay to myself," he said, gesturing vaguely with his hands as he spoke and you nodded along with him.

"I had thought people did not like you," you admitted.

"What, why??" He said, suddenly horrified. His reaction had you belting out a laugh.

"You had one, mean friend, and Panya did not like you, too," you said with another apologetic shrug.

"Well when you put it like that," he said, and the both of you devolved into giggles.

When you calmed down there was less space between you, your dishes set to the side as you inched closer.

"Did Panya ever talk about me?" He asked, inquisitive eyes scanning you thoroughly.

"A little," you nodded. "She says... you did mean things when you were.. young. Piye did, too."

"Piye said I was a bad person?"

"No, only that you had things when you were young," you assured him. "But good things, also. You are... kind, in heart."

Your attention glazed over, and Ahk watched with uncertainty as you reached forward, setting your hand over his trembling heart. He could feel your hand moving with how hard his heart beat, trying desperately to calm himself as skin met flushed skin.

Fingers trailed down his bare chest until you withdrew your hand entirely, finally looking back up at him with gleaming eyes.

"I think you are good, still if you say the words wrong, you are good at heart," you said in a sudden need to assure him of his own humanity.

It acted as an apology in your eyes, but to him he saw nothing but love, and his heartbeat increased tenfold. What summer nights brought about amidst the bugs and acquaintances murmuring below.

Coins jingled in his pocket as he made his way through the streets, weaving through thick crowds to reach the center marketplace. He bid good-bye to you several minutes earlier, leaving you to work on the estate's garden, while Ahkmen enjoyed his freetime away from the masters. His clothes, perfectly suited to blend in with the locals, also hid away his various bags of grain and coins that he would use as payment, and the dagger strapped to his hip.

There was no particular aim he had in mind as he walked, eyes darting from the indecipherable shop signs to the various people spending their morning out on the streets. He would, at times, come across small trios or couplets of musicians who filled up the space between loud conversations, bringing to the chaos a sort of art. High flutes played in tune with deep lyres, the instruments made of a cheaper wood more easily afforded by the lower classes. But the bustle of traders and merchants could still be heard clearly throughout the noise, calling out prices and wares, and advertising the many products sold within the streets of Babylon.

Babylon had, like Egypt, somehow retained much of its' prosperity despite the trying times. Rapiqum and the cities of Canaan––Jericho and Jerusalem––suffered much worse; a lack of water befalling the people who resided in the starved cities. But the river Euphrates never strayed from Babylon, and had continued to run through the city in plentiful waves.

The water of the Euphrates was said to be tears. Tears from the primorial Goddess, whose name Ahk couldn't recall. He frowned as he looked over the edge of the terrace, leaning on a white stone railing that separated him from a ten foot drop into the swirling waters below, lined with the blue tile of the city's gates. From the even decorations on either side, Ahk correctly assumed that it marked the water level of a typical year; the water currently ran an arm's length below the mark. He let out a long sigh, his fingers digging into the railing.

At the sight of this Ahk couldn't help but imagine the Nile falling to such depths. Each year brought forth a differing inundation, making it hard to truly worry about the water level. But years of this would dry the farmlands, polluting the cities with dry, infertile dirt, and ridding of the already scant shade along the Nile's shores. Birds would leave in droves, and antelope would follow the scent of water to more fruitful lands.

He didn't notice how tight his grip on the rail grew until the plaster cracked, the pop drawing his attention back to his intense glare and gritted jaw. A couple of the people stopping at the riverside gave him odd looks, some of them scooting away from him, at which point he released all the tension in his body and stepped quickly away, heading back into the western city.

He once again found himself in one of the city's many center circles, allowing shopfronts to spread out in multitudes to present their wares. Nearly all the shops were open at this time, since it was around noon, and Ahk could hardly hear his own thoughts with the rampant conversation and shouts surrounding him. A headache sprouted in his knotted brow from the confused––or irritated––expression on him.

"Lost, are you?"

"Who the f–"

Ahk whipped around to see who had spoken, mostly because it was in Egyptian, only to find a dissapointingly familiar face.

"Oh. You," Ahk said stiffly, crossing his arms as he stopped dead in the center of the moving crowd, the Kassite Prince standing across from him with a smile.

"I thought you looked a little lonely out here," he said, taking several, leisurely steps forward. "All by yourself."

"Listen, you and I do not know each other," Ahk said, taking his movement as a challenge and stepping forward till he truly faced the shorter prince. "Stop talking to me in public."

"You should feel honored I ever speak to you at all," he retorted.

Ahkmen internally groaned. Did others feel this way when they spoke to him during his childhood? The Kassite Prince did seem to be a little younger than Ahk, though not by much.

"Don't you have Kings in Egypt?" the Prince continued.

"Pharaohs. And I'm fully aware they do, I just never liked them," Ahk lied sourly, his lips pursed tight together.

"That gold on your arm says otherwise," he said, gesturing with his chin to the gold band wrapped round his bicep.

"Who even are you?"

"The Prince, you –"

"I know that," Ahk interrupted him. "I meant your name."

The Kassite Prince hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the question.

"You know what? I don't care," Ahk said after another second of silence, throwing his hands up in the in defeat, and turning round and walking away.

"Hey!" The prince called out in a whine, but the crowd already welled up in the space between them. "My name's Rimush!"

"And my name's Fuck You," Ahk muttered beneath his breath.

Incense from Elam. Considering your interest in other cultures, and the magic ongoings of said cultures, Ahk took the guess that you would enjoy a hint of the travel yet to come. You still had beer batches you had to finish, and Ahk was enjoying his time returning to combat training, eagerly memorizing each move and doing it thoroughly as he imagined besting any creature that dared to hurt you. There was no need to hurry yourselves to Elam, but there still lingered a curiosity in you and Ahkmen. Priest teachers in Egypt never spoke much about Elam considering the distances between the two countries. Imports reached further than power, however, so Ahk actually had used Elamite incense before, and recalled it as being pleasant. You'd like it, he thought.

Incense progressed into talismans and tools, till his poor money-managing skills led him to carrying three bags worth of things, some for you, and some for himself. Most for you, though. He burned a bright red as he walked back to the estate, already knowing how you'd laugh, rocking back in your seat as he revealed your effect on him even without your presence. But it would be worth it to see the hidden delight in your twinkling eyes.

"Aganu, do you know how many necklaces you have give me?" You asked, about ten minutes after you asked what the thing in your hand was, and he answered 'necklace'.

"No, I wasn't really counting," he said, lifting himself out of his own bag to look over your shoulder.

You sat on his bed, you at the head and him on the side, his legs still planted on the ground. Two of the bags were now empty, their contents scattered in piles around the sheets, all of which belonged to you. Ahk kept his own belongings in a separate bag on the floor.

"This is ten and six necklaces," you said as you held up the mass of necklaces, looking more like tiny, black and brown worms rather than jewelry, the sight of which had giggles bubbling up in both of you.

"Sorry?" He said through his chuckling.

"No, no, I love," you said, setting to untangling them.

It took nearly ten minutes but eventually the two of you untangled all of them, only for you to put every last one of them around your neck, tangling them back around on your chest. You flashed a dizzying grin once you wore all his gifts.

"It's still early," he stuttered out, his face slowly warming with blood as he found himself unable to look away from you, or the sunlight streaming through the door that illuminated your soft skin. "Do you think today'll work for the garden?"

"Oh, yes," you said, straightening your back. "Yes, that is good!"

He chuckled, averting his eyes to his fidgeting fingers.

Tamarisk trees flanked the entrance of the tower, still scraping the sky with the tallest terrace overflowing with leaves of green. The throes of a dying sun painted the white pillars red and orange, burning like flames that would surely overtake the city, but still cooled by the high-up winds that brushed against the hanging trees and flowers.

A wide arch greeted you, acting as a massive entrance leading into a tall room overflowing with grasses, reeds, and bushes. Most of them you recognized instantly––herbs of special sorts, both from Mesopotamia and from far away. You picked those you recognized, stuffing the leaves and roots into one of your many pockets. Ahkmen chuckled at your behavior, but still stopped at your side to allow your collecting, which continued to the stairs carved in a polished, white stone, massive lamassu statutes towering above you. They popped right out of the stone, empty eyes staring straight down into Ahk.

"Wow," he said, earning a hum from you.

"It is like Egypt," you said.

He turned to you with a frown.

"How so?"

"Big, stone cat, with a man head," you said, pointing up at the human fae.

"Oh," he turned back to the statue, "I suppose you're right."

A couple came down the stairs, pressed tightly together when they noticed you. The two of you also drew closer, and began to head up the stairs, watching for the new flora that bloomed out of seemingly nothing.

Lines of arches whose pillars were carved in intricate patterns led to the wind of open air rustling through the trees, willows and their long tendrils dancing and entangling themselves with the flowers of nearby vines. Water clung to the air around you, kept humid and warm in the strange, and surely intentional, dome of a ceiling. Yet more stairs sat behind you, meaning the next floor must've been built higher than the ceiling of the second floor.

Fruits––though most of them small––grew on the low bushes and on high trees, their blooming colors matching the many petals of white, red, gold, and deep purple. You soon discovered the reason for the small fruits was that the other people roaming throughout the terraces picked the larger, more ripened ones, eating them as they wandered about. You soon did the same, picking a small plum and offering part of it to Ahk. He took a couple bites before handing it back to you.

At the brush of your fingers, his heart did not speed––not like before, and he melted into the familiarity, into the warmth he memorized in your touch. Without much thought he took your hand, entwining your fingers sticky with fruit sugar together. When you didn't try to pull away, he pushed down the excitement that was quick to fill his chest, but allowed himself a small smile.

A woman picked fruit from a tree in front of your path, but when he accidentally caught her eye, she hurried off with her basket in hand. Ahk looked up to where she'd been tending, and found large, red pomegranates hanging abundantly from the flimsy tree.

Moving up to his toes, he picked one of the fruits and handed it to you.

"Ever had a pomegranate before?" He asked when you just held it, staring at it in your hands.

"That is this?" You said as you raised it.

"Indeed so. My brother and I used to split it."

"You had a brother??" You asked incredulously.

"Did I never tell you?"

"No," you said. Obviously.

"Alright, well, before he started really hating me, we'd sometimes sneak out into the market and split food, since we couldn't find enough money to pay for an overzealous amount," Ahk explained.

At the very end of his sentence you took a massive bite into the raw peel, instantly frowning when you bit into something fleshy and bitter. Ahkmen, who took a second to notice this, quickly took the fruit from you with a gasp. A large bitemark was already in the fruit.

"That – that's not how you eat pomegranates," he stammered, digging his thumbs into the new-revealed fruit, and splitting it open to reveal the seeds within.

"It is bad," you said, your expression still contorted uncomfortably.

"Spit it out!"

You spit your bite into the nearby bushes, earning cold stares from the couple of people who saw. Their gazes had you shrinking in on yourself.

"Don't worry about it," Ahk said quietly, setting a hand on your back. "I would definitely have done the same thing."

The two of you split the pomegranate, and Ahkmen showed you that it was the fruit-covered seeds that were the truly consumable part. You ended up enjoying them quite a bit, and the one pomegranate lasted you throughout the whole of the marble and limestone garden terrace, following you up the stairs till nothing remained but the shell. Ahk tossed the remains away, and the two of you continued onwards.

Eventually the air began to cool with the ascending floors, and Ahk's Egyptian clothes––which he'd worn that day because he had no work––ceased to fit the temperature, landing Ahk with a soured look and goosebumps coming up constantly on his arms that were crossed tight over his chest.

"Awwwh, you are cold?" You asked in a saccharine voice, after Ahk spent ten minutes wondering if you noticed his shivering.

Your attention did feel better, but not enough.

"A little," he said.

"You do want my coat?" You offered, already setting to undoing the buttons set high on the stiff, red and gold fabric neck.

"No, no, don't trouble yourself," Ahk said quickly, unwrapping his arms from himself to shake his hands no.

"That is okay," you said after a moment. "I do not think it would go in your big arms."

"You think my arms are big?" He squeaked out, looking down at his bicep, which had grown slightly more toned after several training sessions.

"Well, you..." you poked his left bicep, "are big."

"How kind of you, Yogasundari," he said with a massive grin, looking down at you like you lit up the sky.

"Shut up," you said as you pushed him away, earning a loud laugh from him.

"What a show you put on," came a voice from behind you. "I'm almost embarrassed to be seen talking to you."

Ahk groaned––externally this time––and turned slowly around, his dull eyes meeting the Prince Rimush's plotting expression.

"Then stop talking to us," Ahk said, setting his left arm around your shoulder and directing the both of you back forward.

"You've got me there," Rimush said and, to Ahk's great dismay, ran to catch up with you and Ahk, standing at Ahkmen's right. "I just can't dismiss how wonderful of a whore you would make."

Ahk shot you an odd look, but you just shrugged.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asked with a glare.

"Well, you've got the body for it, and you clearly don't care about showing a little skin," he said, a smirk creeping across his face.

"You know, I don't complain that you're a little brat and that I wish I could subjugate you. Maybe you could do the same," Ahkmen said.

Rimush just laughed, throwing his head of curly, black hair back.

"Who is this man?" You whispered to Ahk while the other was distracted.

"Some idiot I've seen a couple times. He's just a dick."

"I am a Prince, thank you," Rimush interrupted with a cocked brow.

"Okay, Prince Dick," Ahk said, rolling his eyes.

Rimush's mouth fell open as he stared at Ahk, stopping dead in his step. You and Ahk spared him no mercy, and continued forward, leaving the Kassite Prince behind, but only for a moment. He soon ran back up to join you, drawing a heavier-yet groan from Ahkmen.

"Oh come on, don't be like that," he said, hitting Ahk's chest.

"Would you please leave? I'm trying to spend an evening alone with my – my..." Ahk trailed off, his eyes darting to you and back to Rimush.

"Tunae," you suggested, and despite not knowing what the hell you were talking about, he agreed.

"Alright, very well," Rimush said with a long sigh, his shoulders sagging. "But I'd still like to invite you to an event within a few weeks, if you're not too busy... staring at each other."

"Clever," Ahk said flatly.

"It's at Ukani's estate. One of our high priests, a good friend of my father's," the Prince continued.

It took a moment, but the words oh fuck rolled over Ahk's already irritated mind.

"We'll already be there," Ahk said. "We work for the man."

"Oh, wonderful. I hope you're doing some of the dancing, then," Rimush said, and his eyes raked over Ahk again. "I've heard the dancers are dressed in only the finest and thinnest of silks."

"I guess you'll find out," Ahk replied in the same, flat tone.

The two of you, now pressed tightly together, didn't move or speak till Rimush's unkempt locks disappeared down the stairway. At that point Ahk let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, and returned his attention chiefly to you.

"He is a prince?" You asked as you picked up your stroll once more.

"Yes, somehow."

"We must be good to him," you said.

"Uh... why?" Ahk asked, wanting to do the exact opposite.

"You said, in Egypt, to go with what the power says, the Kings and that," you said, and his eyes drifted shut.

"I did say that, didn't I," he mumbled.

Now that those conventions weren't upholding his status and were there instead to crush him, well––things seemed a little different on the earth than it did in the clouds, and his thought process worked just the same.

Both of you fell quiet after that, wandering in silence throughout the climbing terraces. Trees of figs, dates, melons, plums, and pears lined the walkway, beside softly running streams pouring their lifeforce into the plants. After several minutes, and a couple floors later, Ahk finally gathered up enough gall to take your hand again. Instantly your fingers tangled into his, and he noted with great pride the smile tugging at the corners of your blushing lips.

The very top of the tower overlooked the whole of the city, from the ziggurats to the outer walls, and to the town-like structures stretching onwards from Karanduniash. The Euphrates continued on endlessly, splitting the land before you in two as wind blew with the force to disrobe you.

People who walked down below were no larger than the ochre dot on your forehead, and moved about as slow as an ant crawling to get to its' hive. Ahk was the only one that could truly watch them, as you were uneasy whenever you leant over the garden's edge, and saw the ground below at a height tall enough to kill you. Instead you crossed you arms, whining whenever Ahk got too close and appeared to be close to falling off.

"Do not be dumb," you said with a frown, your folded arms helping keep your clothes tight to your body.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," he said, leaning just enough over the sheer cliff to see the terraces built beneath you, and those who stood on the edge just as he did.

"I would like to worry about that, thank you," you said matter-of-factly.

Ahkmen chuckled but relented, returning to your side in the center of the highest floor. Despite the plant's water coming from far below you, the creek still ran through the last terrace, feeding the scant trees and brush that could survive the overbearing winds. The bells of rushing water accompanied him as he took your hands, holding them gentle in his own.

"You know I adore you, don't you?" He said, scanning your expectant eyes.

"What does a door do with this?"

"No, not -" he giggled with warming cheeks, "not a door. Adore. It means to care for something deeply, to admire it in a way."

"Ohhh, yes, I did hear this, I only forgot. Sorry," you said with your own sheepish chuckle.

"No need to apologize. I just want you to remember that."

"What adore is saying?"

"No, that I adore you," he said, and despite his screw-ups rushing blood to his face, he knelt before you to more easily meet your eye.

Looking up to you was a special sort of reverence. His bare knee dug into the fertile earth, his other kept up near his chest as he craned his neck to hold your gaze. You appeared, for a moment, to be entirely quiet, wide eyes staring wordlessly down at him. Even the breath in your chest ceased to move.

In the past, you had bowed before many people––passing Kings and High Priests, masters, and your own family in celebrations for the new year. The view from above was quite different from the one below, and you were allowed movement.

You gently pulled one of your hands out of his hold. His empty hand fell like muslin to his lap, a feeling replicated in warm, tingling sensations when your thumb stroked over his jawline. Eyes fluttered shut once more as he leant into your touch, melting when the whole of your palm rested on his flushed cheek.

"Look at me," you said softly, and Ahk raised his head, opening his eyes. "Know my face."

"I've already memorized it," he replied in a murmur.

[amethystpath-writes]

This might have been done before but could you do a story of a princess in a tower and a dragon. But the princess is the dragon. Maybe she stays at the tower cause she has no where else to go. Knights hurt her trying to get to the supposed princess inside.

It’s been a while, but I finally got to sit down and finish this one after starting it forever ago!

******

It began as a wish- a wish for the patience required to withstand the life of a royal. Witches were just as rotten as genies, and perhaps the princess should have known that, but in several days’ worth of desperateness, she hadn’t thought of it.

See, the princess, Killah, had only wanted a reprieve- a break from all her royal duties. She was tired of lessons, tired of practicing posture, tired of identifying which spoon to put in her tea versus her soup. It was stupid, all of it. More than stupid, it was meaningless. So, Killah sought a solution.

Everyone in her kingdom, and those bordering, knew that the witch lived in the marshlands. It was a disgusting region, and the princess almost regretted going, but then Killah spotted a wooden structure and felt a beam of hope.

Not long after she spotted the structure, the princess was walking into it. The hut was small at first and Killah had to duck in order to avoid hitting her head. As she continued to walk in, though, it opened up- ceiling reaching up as far as the sky, walls further than the ends of any ocean. It was magic.

The ordeal went by quickly. The princess saw found the hunchbacked witch, said hello, and, nearly immediately, the witch asked what Killah wanted.

“I need patience,” the princess said, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit her absence of such a trait. It was a fact that she didn’t have it. Having worked on it before only to make zero progress, this witch was her only option. Would her father be disappointed? Of course. But he’d be even more disappointed if the princess ran away from her duties altogether- something she considered doing many times.

The witch was willing to help under one condition. She didn’t want Killah’s money or her voice. She wanted the girl’s appearance.

“But my kingdom won’t recognize me.”

“You will have the royal seal, my dear. You will have your voice. You will have a personality- even if it’s a bettered one; it is only one small change. You will be recognized,” the witch assured Killah.

It took no more than that for the princess to come to an agreement.

The witch got to work, swirling her hands, casting light here and there, walking around the room in odd shapes. Killah almost wanted to snap, “Can we speed this up any? I’m tired of standing here,” but she stopped herself. Maybe that meant the spell- or whatever witches dealt in- was working. Maybe she was becoming more patient. Or, maybe she was still impatient, but knew not the offend the witch- as if it would have mattered.

So, she waited, watching as the witch took her own appearance. It was like looking into a three-dimensional mirror- if there could ever be such a thing. Killah asked, “What do I look like, then?”

In the next moment, the princess felt her skin being pulled, like someone was pinching and tugging at her- mostly in her arms and legs. They itched, and as Killah went to scratch one of her arms, she squealed, seeing the way her nails were…they were different. They weren’t her own. They were blackened, like she dipped her fingers in tar and it got beneath her nails. But it wasn’t just below the tips; it was the whole of the nails.

“What’s happening!” The tar was spreading beyond Killah’s nails into her actual fingers. The black was fading to a grey as it travelled up her arms. She looked to the witch- or to herself as it seemed. “Stop it! Stop…stop this! Whatever this is. Oh my gods. Oh my gods.” Not only was she itching and scratching an absurd amount, but her nails were sharpening, too. Sharpening and sharpening and they wouldn’t stop, just like she wouldn’t stop itching. “Stop!”

“It’s nothing outside of the deal we made. You wanted patience, and I wanted your looks. We are both getting what we want- and a little extra. I think I hear the prince.”

While she spoke, the black-grey was becoming worse. It was growing, staining every inch of Killah’s skin. Looking at her hands now, it was horrific. They were developing bumps- scales, ones that were almost…glossy.

“The horse is getting closer. I can hear it.”

Killah ran to the nearest window- one she hadn’t even seen before now, and looked outside to see the prince, her brother, was indeed riding on horseback towards the witch hut. The itching was decreasing as the prince neared. She’d look down at herself- to inspect her nails, her hands, her skin, but her focus was on her brother. He was so close, and she could feel herself ready to sprint out of the witch’s hut, but then…

A heavy weight filled Killah’s chest, and she sat. A bit awkwardly, but she sat right on the floor, waiting for her brother to arrive. The urge to run to him disappeared. Patience, she said- or tried to say. What came out instead was far from human.

The princess felt foreign to herself, arms feeling weightier than usual- legs and head the same. She thought to bring a hand to her head, at the split of her lips where strange sounds emerged, but as she lifted her hand, it was wrong. It was so, so wrong, and a whine was released from her throat. With the whine came a spew of…of spit. A long string of saliva was spread across the floor and window.

Panicking, Killah hit one hand- one reptilian hand- against the other, beating it, trying to beat away whatever curse this was the witch gave her.

“I am not sure what you think that is accomplishing, but I can tell you for certain that it is nothing.”

Killah opened her mouth- if she could even call it that now. It was more of a snout than anything, and it was growing, lengthening before her very eyes.

Having sensed the question the princess was going to ask, the witch answered, “A dragon. Well, almost.”

In the next moment, the princess’ back ached and she cried out with yet another unwilling transformation. Wings- she knew. Killah laid down, waiting for the pain to eb down. Her brother would be here any minute and when he arrived, she could show him how her ring was still- she gasped, in whatever way a dragon could do as such. It was a guttural noise, one Killah would have curled a lip at if she could.

There was no ring on her finger. Of course there wouldn’t be. It would have broken with the great stretch of her body as it changed from human to reptile. As she looked for it, though, there was no gold ring to be seen. Killah looked to the witch.

“Now, that’s a shame.” The witch pouted.

Is that what I look like when I do that? Killah thought to herself. She was a prudish thing, wasn’t she? No wonder her mother scorned her features so often. Albeit beautiful, the princess’ human form expressed a constant state of annoyance and want.

“I looked so forward to wearing this. No matter”- a knock sounded at the hut’s door. It seemed so long ago that Killah ventured through it. She wished she could venture out, but it was too narrow now. The princess would never be able to leave this hut being in the wild form she was now.

“Killah!”

The princess roared- on accident- meanwhile the witch screamed for the prince.

In a matter of seconds, Killah’s brother was running into the forever expansive room. He drew his sword with a holler, causing Killah to raise her hands- claws- in defence. Without a word, the prince was swinging, slicing metal into scaled skin.

The witch screamed all the while, pretending she was the one being sliced to bits while the real princess cried in pain, backing further, and further, and further away. Where was the wall? Where was the wall? Killah didn’t think it’d ever end. Still, she tried with every piece of her dragon being to convince the prince it was her. It was his sister he was attempting to kill.

“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” the witch screamed as she scurried passed the two locked in a match of Hurt & Avoid-Being-Hurt. She grasped the prince by the shoulder and yelled at him as he continued flashing his sword, “It’ll kill you! It’s already killed so many. We have to run!”

Killah looked in horror at the rest of the room as it warped into a stingy cave, one littered with human skeletons and crunched armour. “No! That wasn’t me!” the princess tried to tell, but with no use. She only roared and shot out more disgusting saliva. She tried sitting, tried staying as still as possible to prove she wasn’t a threat, but before her brother would even consider her vulnerable state, he ran away with the witch.

Chasing after them perhaps wasn’t the most brilliant idea, but what else was Killah to do? The witch was the only one who could change her back, but here she was, running away with a false image and taking the princess’ only alternative hope of escape with her. What would the witch do to her kingdom?

***

Years followed and the princess dragon waited, and waited, and waited, surprisingly- though maybe not so surprising at all- without irritation. Someone will come, Killah thought, someone that will see passed this spell. And they’ll reverse it somehow. They’ll take me home. It was these thoughts that kept the unfortunate princess going.

Patience was hope, and hope was patience. They relied on the other in order to co-exist.

[smoochi-dazai]

✿ “ The Colour Of Honey ” ✿

—> Bungo Stray Dogs, Dazai Osamu | reader / @i-am-a-bastard​

—> Sweet | Gift

—> Description | Actions proven to be sweeter than honey. Just softness smh

✿ ( 1.7k words )

✿ Due to my dear friend taking my idea for a gift, I decided to rewrite this for her. *cough* *cough* Instead of taking place during the early morning, I’ll make mine at night.  Honestly reading your gift for me was heart touching, I wish I could write as beautifully as you. Either way it comes from the heart, so here we go !!

As a member of the armed detective agency, life wasn’t the purest. You had a ‘luxury’ to see the earth at its true form, full of people who enjoy tainting its soil through means of violence. Day after day people were working hard for justice, but what is justice? What is good and what is bad? The idea of each varies from person to person and how far their level of morality goes. Often, justice will be seen as a tool for good, yet villains too, use this method to create their world.

Hands in each pocket of his trench coat, Dazai made his way home. The pace of his slow strut quickened as the sun began to set. Beautiful displays of colour painted throughout the sky became hard to resist, thankfully the bandaged little devil himself wouldn't allow this to halt his journey forward any longer. It was long past curfew for Dazai to return home.

The detective knew there was no avoiding a worried belladonna waiting for him at this point. Who could blame her? His job was dangerous, especially for him. Each day he’d come late opening the door, his beautiful girlfriend would pounce on him only to start spewing out apologies back to back full of embarrassment. Even if he didn’t admit it, moments like those were cute.

Finally reaching his destination, Dazai let out a long exhale, preparing for a body to come crashing into his. Unlocking the door, Dazai pressed a hand against its surface, gently pushing it forward cautiously. Something felt off, however. Shutting the door behind him, Dazai looked around their small home from his current position. His belladonna was nowhere in sight.

By now, the girl would’ve tripped over her own feet in an attempt to greet him.

“I’m home!~ ” Dazai said enthusiastically, clearing his throat before stepping forward into the partial mess of a living room. “Belladonna?” he called out once more, only to be followed with silence.

Nothing in the house looked out of the ordinary, leaving Dazai to walk through the home in search of his lover. Door after door the man couldn’t help the negative thoughts invading his mind, if something happened to her all because of his late arrival he would not be capable of forgiving himself.

Dazai was stuck in an endless silence, his footsteps echo in the hall until his ears pick up on a familiar sound. The faint sound of falling water, this faint sound floods his heart in sweet relief. He was such a fool, she was just in the shower. Scratching his cheek, Dazai allowed an embarrassed chuckle to escape his lips. Speaking out loud to himself.

“ I guess it wouldn’t hurt to still check in on her “ The mischief in his tone was evident, shrugging off his coat and kicking his shoes to the side. Dazai made his way towards the faint sound coming from their washroom. At this point, he could hear the individual droplet of water splash onto the tiles. Gentle hums met his ears as he cautiously pushed open the door, just a smidge to peak in. By the time it opened enough to reveal anything, a voice could be heard.

“ I swear if you move that door an extra inch, you’ll regret it. “ (Y/N) threatens.

That all too familiar voice echoed throughout the washroom, a heavenly sound which triggered Dazai’s heart to flutter. He knew what she said was an empty threat, but respected her privacy anyways.

Dazai smirked before it changed to a more genuine smile, chuckling lowly before shutting the door behind him. So much for getting a quick peek, he thought to himself, waiting outside for her.

It had only been around ten minutes before the door opened, revealing his Belladonna with a towel wrapped around her figure. Meeting her eyes with his own, he invites her with a welcoming smile. She only pouts in return, holding up her towel.

“ For someone who claims to be a gentleman, you aren't fazed by invading my privacy in the slightest, Osa. “

Gasping dramatically while placing a hand over his heart, Dazai acted as if he found that offensive, “ I was only checking to make sure my dear belladonna was safe! “

“ Uh-huh. “

Walking past the now moping Dazai, (Y/N) kept a hand grasping her towel in order to secure it around her curves. Smiling sheepishly, the girl made her way to the bedroom she shared with Dazai. His footsteps follow suit behind hers.

Reaching her bedroom, (Y/N) heads towards their closet. Ripping clothes off the hangers, she could still feel Dazais intense stare. Observing her every move. Feeling her towel slip, (Y/N) quickly caught it before revealing anything. It is not the first time she'd be entirely exposed to Dazai, but it still felt incredibly embarrassing. Being vulnerable wasn't easy, yet a single touch from Dazais handy work then she'd melt.

Like a candle, she would light up his world. Failing to accomplish her mission was uncommon, (Y/N) never once regretted falling for Dazai. That warm smile whenever they had been alone, made the flame in her heart flicker.

A mysterious boy wrapped up in not only bandages but himself- was always hidden behind a façade, something she broke within a mere year.

" Can you please refrain from watching me change, Osa? It's embarrassing. " (Y/N) mutters, slowly stripping the towel off while changing into a more light and comfortable fit for bed. Two arms slither their way around her waist, feeling a warm chest against her back. Dazai began to whisper in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

" I can't seem to ever take these eyes off you, Belladonna. Can you really blame me? " Dazai was dangerously close to a flame, her cheeks grow warmer as the flame within her heart fails to compute. 

Dazai’s hands roam her bare body, the towel held up between her and his bodies, the slightest movement could make it fall. Subconsciously (Y/N) sinks back into his chest, sealing her eyes shut. The girl found herself to accept the warmth of his delicate touch.

" Please? I need to change Dazai. " (Y/N) comes back to her senses, carefully prying Dazai’s hands from her frame, " It won't take long, promise. "

Pouting in defeat, Dazai turns around and heads for their bed. It was difficult to convince Dazai regularly, except when it came to his Belladonna he couldn't evade complying.

Hearing the sound of her towel drop to the floor, Dazai huffed and kept his gaze to the other side of their room. Hopping out of their bed, Dazai slipped off his previous pants and wore some Pajama pants in replacement. Stripping his shirt off carefully and throwing it aside, Dazai threw himself back entirely on the bed. His bandaged up torso left exposed.

Normally there would be food waiting for him around this time, but neither of them really cared for that at the moment. He ate lunch at the Agency, which was enough to satisfy him for the day. Dazai just wanted to make up the time he missed with his (Y/N).

" You can turn around now, I'm changed. " (Y/N) announced, flicking a switch she shut off their bedroom light. Walking to their bed, (Y/N) sat herself down. There was a moment of silence, moonlight trickled through their window. Pale white light sunk into their forms, a gentle gesture both of them could appreciate.

Pulling a blanket over themselves, (Y/N) was the first to wrap her arms around Dazai. Being the big spoon was her go-to position between them, often pulling Dazai into her chest. A hand finding itself in his soft chocolate locks. Sighing in content, Dazai rested his head on (Y/N)s chest. Feeling her breasts to be some sort of pillow in his mind. Sighing in content, Dazai smiles. He was so incredibly exhausted from work.

" Big day at work? " (Y/N) whispered, inquiring how his day has been. It was apparent as too how fatigued he was. The frequent sighs, and the way he weakly threw an arm over her form.

Dazai nods his head, melting beneath the feeling of (Y/N)s fingernails against his scalp. Messing up his coffee-coloured hair.   " Port mafia doing their usual, there's been a bounty placed on Atsushis head. "

" Oh dear, that does sound rather tedious huh? I'm sure Atsushi is plenty safe with you around. Try not to stress so much, Dear. " (Y/N)s comfort reached Dazais ears like a serene melody, thanking her below his breath while leaning up to leave a gentle kiss on her neck. Finding a new home within the crook of her neck, Dazai remains right there.

The couple rested there happily within the comfort of lovers' warmth. Dazais bandaged chest had some blood stains and dirt, too lazy to change those bandages anytime soon.

Legs tangled, pairs of arms wrapped around each other. Lazily sprawled out across the bed mattress. By now their blanket was thrown off of them, dangling off the bed while the couple solely embraces one other.

Eyes closed on either party, Dazai felt (Y/N) stop combing his hair with her fingers. Pouting, Dazai opens his eyes and checks on her. The even breaths that escape her mouth already told him she fell asleep, deciding to leave her be. Dazai changes their position slowly in order to not wake his love.

Fast asleep, (Y/N) began to curl up in the boyfriend's embrace. Facing each other, now she was in his shoes. Head resting against his chest, Dazai nestles his nose into her hair. The fresh smell of shampoo gave a pleasant scent, entering his nose. Strands of hair tickle his face, forcing him to brush it behind her ear. Muttering to her, even though he was aware it had been pointless.

" I love you, Belladonna. More then you could ever understand. " His grasp around her form became more firm, afraid if he were to let go then she'd be taken away from him soon too.

"Everything I've ever cared for seems to be taken away from me, I swear I won't let anything happen to you too. Not ever again..." Dazai weakly smiles, memories of old friends of the past flash. Deciding to brush those memories to the side,

" I don't know what I'd do without you Belladonna, You've done the impossible. " Dazai kissed the girl in his arms on the top of the head. Smiling genuinely before resting his head on top of hers. Finding the lull of sleep envelope him.