#although I have no idea where it is going or how it will end

[cryptic--writing]

Hiya 👋🏻

It’s not really a kinktober request, but maybe you’ll consider doing it? No pressure though))

Ajaf era James, where he was drinking a lot. He understands that that affects him and turns him into a monster. He’s afraid he’s going to hurt reader, but he can’t break up with her for her safety, he loves her too much. So he comes up with stupid plan of making her break up with him because of his behavior? So he starts to undermine her efforts, e.g. the meals she cooks “could have been better”; makes fun of her simple 9-5 job , saying that’s she lucky she can have a relaxed job cause he’s earning most of the money and covering the bills. Although she’s hurt, she is staying as she loves him and thinks it’s the alcohol talking. James, realizing his plan doesn’t work, makes the final move: after they have sex one evening, he tells her that groupies do a much better job. That’s too much for her to take so she leaves him.

Unfortunately, after break up he feels even worse. Lars is worried so he interrogates him, and drunken James confesses. So Lars finds reader and locks her in the studio with James for them to reconcile (can we have smut here)?

Few weeks later when they start recording black album, James plays her a song (which will become nothing else matters), saying that it’s his way of telling everyone how much she means to him?

I’m sorry I can’t write short asks 🥲🥲🥹🥹

You are a great writer so I really hope this will become a story 🙏🏻

hihi!

and omg its here. took me 9 days to write it lmao but yeah

i cant explain how much I loved this idea pls marry me annon

also ~~~ means POV change (yes there is James and reader pov)

this fic has legit everything so I hope y'all enjoy it bc I busted my ass on it

some parts may be confusing idk

anyways

word count: 10623

warnings: mentions of achohol/drugs, death is mentioned, toxic relationship, break up, angst, smut, fluff, I'm prob forgetting smth

OR SO I THOUGHT (1989)

It had been a rough couple months with James. I felt determined to help him with his only worsening alcoholism, though he only continued to shut me out. I could feel the guilt when he was around, but it didn't make him stop. I tried, I really did, encouraging him to talk to me, to help me help him. 

It was the same sad scene every night. James would come home, probably around midnight, and I couldn't sleep without him next to me, so I was up, all those hours, wondering as I tossed and turned as to where he might be. All I knew is I was in for a scary time when he got back, but I eventually grew tough skin to deal with this.  Understood that this wasn't safe for me, or him, and I stressed that so, so much to him, but James never understood. Well, he never told me he did. Maybe there was more going on in his heart I never knew about. But, of course, I could never discover as he would always close himself off so much.

It was another day where the cycle would repeat. I woke up at three am to the sound of James stumbling in, mumbling something under his breath before he plopped down on the bed beside me, and I knew well enough to hold my tongue, to not provoke him. I pretended I was asleep, which he believed, trying, or at least I think he was trying, to snuggly up next to me, but he had his back to me. His arms weren't around me. Maybe that's all I yearn for now, to be loved and held.

Once I could finally go back to sleep, I was awoken not much later by the sound of my blaring alarm. It was seven am, time to get ready for work. James is a heavy sleeper, he never woke up from my alarms, though I always rushed to turn them off, just in case they would wake him. Slipping out of bed with a groan, I observed his sprawled out body, his shoes still on. I'm glad he made it to the bed this night, as others he would end up on the couch, or in his car, or somewhere I had no idea of.

I pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, like a mother caring for her ill son on a school day. I slipped off his shoes, trying to get him more comfortable. I scurried towards the closet to grab my work clothes for the day before getting changed in the bathroom and rummaging through our medicine cabinet, finding some pain killers and then getting him a cold glass of water, leaving the items on our bedside table. I paused to watch over him as he slept, his slow, steady breaths that rose and fell from his chest. I loved him too much to change this lifestyle. I loved every part of him, and if this was part of him, then so be it. I'll help him get better. He loves every part of me, no matter what, right?

Or so I thought.

I slipped on my heels, walking into our messy kitchen, the sink filled with unwashed dishes James was supposed to do. But, he isn't well, so I must do them for him. After washing the dishes, I brewed coffee, poured myself a cup and left some for him and began to make breakfast. James had been off lately, different to how he already was off, but that slowly became part of our normal, so one new change did not stick out too much, but this one did. I don't know what it is. He just felt… lifeless, cold, I guess. I decided to make one of his favorite breakfast meals, a nice, warm and fluffy stack of pancakes with eggs and bacon, cooked just the way he liked it. I spent extra time trying to make it the best I had. I knew they would probably be cold by the time he woke up, but hopefully he'd appreciate my effort. I ate some eggs before scrambling for a notepad, getting a pen to write him a sweet good morning note, explaining I was at work, when I'd be home, how much I loved him, and where the other meds were if he needed them. I wrote these notes almost daily, but this one I made longer and more love filled. I figured he would want my love.

Or so I thought.

I came home around six pm, the evening traffic being worse than usual. Instead of seeing James' car out of the driveway and the house dark, he was still home. The soft sound of the TV buzzing was easy to hear as I unlocked the door, walking in to see him on the couch, leaning against the couch arm and holding his head up with his hand. He was too engrossed in whatever he was watching to nice me walk in, so I tried to have him notice my presence.

“Im back, Jamie,” I said softly to not startle him, my voice filled with love as I moved to sit next to him, he looked over at me, like a confused puppy. “How are you feeling?” I asked, gently stroking his back, though he moved from my touch.

“Oh, hi. Yeah, I'm fine. Busy right now, yeah?” He mumbled as a response as he resumed watching TV once more, brushing me off with his simple, cold words. I knew I had to respect his space and not probe at him, so I just nodded with a sigh and got up, slipping off my shoes and setting my bags down,

“Are you hungry?” I asked, digging through the fridge to get things to make dinner. He didn't answer. “James, are you hungry? I can make dinner,” I offered again, noticing the cleared plate that I had made him for breakfast, the note missing. I assumed he threw it away, just like the others. I never saw them in the trash cans, but after everything piles up, you can just assume. I heard James sigh from the couch, “Uh, yeah, sure, whatever. Breakfast was cold, so I threw most of it away anyways,” He admitted, and I felt a small ache in my heart. I thought he liked the dish since there was none left on his plate, but clearly he proved me different. Why I even put effort in these things, I don't know. THats a lie, I do. I love him, and want him to know it, to feel it. I should’ve been doing this as part of my own insecurities, but to make sure he knows I'm there for him, always.

I thought of what to make for dinner, seeing if he had eaten anything since breakfast, only finding empty beer bottles and a half eaten bag of chips. It was probably only the alcohol making him act like this. I decided to make steak with potatoes, something he normally liked and said I made pretty well. It was easy to make, and I know it was one of his favorites I made him, but normally I would wait for a bigger step in life, like celebrating something about the band, or something in my career, but I knew he deserved it still.

I finished after 45 minutes, preparing the plate to be gorgeous, something I wish I could hear from his lips for once. But, he loved me. I know he thinks I'm gorgeous, he wouldn't have to tell me. Right?

“Jamie, the food's ready, I made steak,” I said warmly with a smile, setting a dinner table for us. I didn't get a response, just a grunt as he stood from the couch and walked his near empty bottle of beer, finishing it off and grabbing another from the fridge. I sat at the table, waiting for him to come and join me. His eyes landed on the plate, pulling out the chair to sit down. I couldn't read his emotions, he didn't look too happy, but he didn't look mad. He just looked.. plain. James grabbed his fork and began to eat, the metal scraping against the porcelain plate, waiting for his nod of approval. It never came. He didn't talk, but not in a way like he was mad. He just didn't speak. But he didn't need to, he didn't need to say the things I knew already. I took a breath and began to eat, and it might've been one of the best I had cooked in awhile. Perfect tenderness, juiciness, seasoning, and cooked perfectly, something you could get at a restaurant, now in our home. 

“What do you think, baby? I think it's pretty good, no?” I inquired, seeking the validation I craved from him. He just shrugged.

“It's fine, I guess. It could've been better.”

It shouldn't have hurt. It really shouldn't. He just didn't like the dinner I cooked. The dinner I poured my time into. The dinner I made was special. Special for him. But, what did I know? I doubt he meant it. That's why it definitely shouldn't have hurt. He was drinking. ITs just the alcohol making him act like this. He would never say something like that to me. Why did tears prick at my eyes. Why did it actually hurt?

“Oh, uhm…. I'm sorry, I'll do better next time, do you want me to make you something else..?” I choked out, fighting back my tears.

“No, don't waste your time making something mediocre, yeah?” James insisted, insulting me bitterly once again.

I took a shaky breath, another sting to my heart. Hes. Drunk. This can't be what he means, right?

Or so I thought.

“Alright, uh, do you wanna cuddle on the couch..? We can watch anything you want? Or not watch anything, just sit together.” I offered again, pleading to get love from my partner.

“I was probably gonna go to bed. You mind cleaning up?” He pushed me away again, and every word stung. I want him to see me, to notice me, just to love me. But I reminded myself again and again, he's drunk, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't mean it. I'm just being sensitive and pathetic. Maybe it's just my hormones.

I nodded, forcing a smile, “Sure, yeah, go ahead and  go to bed, I'll clean up and join you in a bit, ok?” I informed him and he just nodded and got up, walking to the bedroom, still carrying his battle with him. My eyes stung, and once he was out of sight, I felt tears streak my face, but I continued to fight them away. I quickly got up to clear James’ and my own plate, then  cleaning the kitchen, washing everything with great care to keep it tidy.

I came into the bedroom, James half asleep under the sheets. His hair was astray as he slept near the edge, his limbs tight together. The now empty beer bottle sat on the nightstand, another reminder of James’ habits. I glanced around before getting changed into my sleep clothes, a nice little night dress James had gotten me for Valentines Day earlier that year. It was nice and pink with some fluffy pieces at the bottom and lace dancing across it. It flowed nicely and hugged my body in the right places, going down to a bit above my knees. It had some other pieces, like stockings and a garter. In reality, it was more so lingerie than a bed set. But, it was one of James’ favorites for me to wear. Maybe this would make him open up more, or just show me the love I'm craving. I crawled in beside him, though I doubt he noticed the weight accompanying him, trying to cuddle closer, pressing myself against his back.

“Jamie?” I asked softly, kissing the back of his head.

“Hm.” James answered in a sleepy tone, barely aware of my presence.

“You doing ok? You've been acting differently…” I kept a quiet tone, my hands gently running down his arms and back as I pondered on what may be hurting him so much.

He took a deep and large breath, sighing, “Yeah, I'm fine… why do you ask..?” James mumbled in response.

“Nothing, you just seem off, I guess,” I rushed out. I didn't want to upset him, but he just seemed so soft and sweet, something I hadn't seen from him awhile.

“Oh, well, alright then… love you..” He mumbled out, slowly succumbing to sleep after saying the words I knew were true.

Or so I thought.

The office today was exhausting. Absurdly exhausting. And infuriating. A stuck up and snotty boss whos full of himself ordering me around to do his mundane dirty work, my co workers giving me side glances of judgment for my more rushed than normal appearance, not having as much time this morning as I had to help James with yet another hangover, getting him to the bathroom in time before he painted our bed green in vomit, making him some foods to keep him comfortable and having to buy more pain killers, my 3rd trip this month, all before heading to work. All I wanted was to come home, sleep, relax, and be held by the love of my life. 

As simple as an office job 9-5 may seem, how it is not. No one else wants to do their own work, always needing some kind of assistance, and of course, I none the wiser, agree to help them.

It was another late evening with heavy traffic, not allowing me to come home until seven, again. I had stopped at the market, grabbing food and other supplies we were running low on. And more beer. 

The door to the house was locked, something that had been happening more and more as I came home, only growing worries on James' worsening habits, the idea of drugs coming to mind, but I tried to shake it from my head, just wanting a nice time at home. 

I unlocked the door, the house quiet except for the soft strum of a guitar in James’ mini studio, which was just an extra bedroom we had turned into a spot for him to store his instruments and for his practeing. We hoped one day for it to become a nursery, a room for our future child.

I followed the music, the half open door allowing me to peek at James, hunched over one of his explorers, fiddling with the strings as he danced around the fretboard with his talented fingers. I smiled at the sweet sight, slowly entering the room.

“Whatcha working on?” I asked, announcing my arrival home. James looked up at me, at first a smile on his face, but he quickly dropped it. His actions only confused me further.

“Uhm, not much, just… a couple riffs and stuff for the new album..” He answered, still picking at the strings with something unreadable in his eyes.

I nodded, smiling at him, “It sounds good, I'm excited to hear it,” I responded before speaking again, “Work was so exhausting today, I don't know how I put up with it anymore,” I said with a laughy sigh, trying to lighten the statement.

James just shrugged. “I mean, I don't really see how a nine to five can really be that tiring,” He disputed, but his tone sounded unsure, shaky like how it did when we first met. But there was a force, an anger of some kind.

I was even more lost with his shift in attitude, “Well, what do you mean? You don't work one, you wouldn't know,” I argued back with more aggression than I meant.

“Yeah, I don't work one. Your job is light and relaxing feather work compared to the shit I do. You are out doing twelve hours a day for months on end at a studio, being out for a year just to tour and shit, you don't make anything working that job, I'm the one paying the bills with my money.” James spat, cold and bitter. His words rung in my ears, repeating each syllable like a painful stab. My brain scrambled for reasons to understand his reaction and response to my complaint of work.

James' piercing blue eyes still starred up and me, my mouth agape in shock. Why would he act like this? He loved me. He just told me he did the other week before we went to bed. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. What is wrong in his life that I don't know about, that he wont tell me about.

My eyes scanned the room, searching for anything that might explain this behavior of his. Truly, anything that would help explain such a swift and sudden change in his mood, but deep down ZI knew, I was just looking for bottles, cans, cups, glasses, anything that would contain the fizzy and bitter liquid he loved. The only thing I could find was a half empty bottle, freshly opened next to the chair he sat in. That's it, that's why he's acting like this. He's just drunk. He doesn't mean it. He doesn't mean it.

Or so I thought.

Even with my new found reasoning, his words still hurt a great amount, the pain struggling to leave. A simple insult, just telling me how I don't work as hard as him, that my job isn't as crucial as his. I took a breath, trying to control and reign in my emotions before I could meltdown in front of him for such a stupid reason. Drunken words, not filled or backed by any true thoughts. Right?

But they do say drunk words are sober thoughts.

“I- well,” I tried to speak, but I couldn't come up with the words. What would I say? I didn't want to make him any more upset than he seemed to be, but I didn't want to submit to him so easily, especially after such disrespect. But I knew better. I don't lash out, I keep him happy. We will work this out together, we have to.

“I'm just gonna go to bed,” I muttered under my breath, fighting back tears that needed to spill out, James rude comments only adding fuel to the fire that had been burning in me all day. Not a fire of anger, passion or desire, but a fire of hurt. Once I shut the bedroom door behind me silently, I broke. The bottle shattered, and my tears overflowed my face, covering my mouth as I cried, trying to calm myself down as I got ready for bed at such an early hour, even forgetting to make James something for dinner.

It was my day off, a relaxing Saturday I could use to have some me time, as James was gonna be out with the band all day as the brainstormed for the new album, which was still taking its baby steps into production, nowhere near any concept for songs yet. At Least that I knew of. 

James had been really tense this week, and I had tried everything to get him to relax and cheer up. Taking him out to his favorite restaurants after I came home, making him home cooked meals, getting him gifts and all things. Though there was one thing I hadn't tried. Sex.

I spent all day dolling myself up, wanting to be as bare and beautiful as possible for James. I shaved everywhere, leaving not a single trace of hair anywhere except for my head,, of course. I scrubbed every nook and cranny of my body, putting on James’ favorite set we bought together, doing my makeup just the way he liked it, lighting the candles he got for my birthday, and dousing myself in his favorite perfume I owned. All the lights were out, except for the lowlights of the candles in the bedroom. I laid on the mattress, waiting for James to come home, hoping this would finally get him to unwind from his stress.

I heard James’ keys jingle in the door, and I could feel myself getting more and more excited for his arrival. This would be one of the few times I would have him sober, as when they worked on material they rarely drank or did anything crazy, thankfully. His shoes thudded on the wooden floors, a sigh escaping his lips as I heard him slowly walk towards the bedroom.

“Are you home?” He called out to me before approaching the bedroom door, taking in the sight of me and the room I had spent the evening preparing for this moment.

“Hey baby,” I mused with a smirk, looking up at him with loving eyes. His eyes met mine, looking warm for the first time in awhile.

“What's all this for?” He asked,  still taking in the well decorated bedroom and my sexy form.

“Wanted to help you relax… you've been so stressed,” I replied, grabbing his hand to try and bring him closer, to get into the bed with me.

It didn't take much more conniving, and James had given in pretty quickly to my offer. He was being more loud than normal, probably because we hadn't had the chance to be intimate like this in awhile. I loved this so much. Well, I loved being close to James again. He wasn't hitting the right spots or focussing on pleasuring me much, but that's fine, he's the one who needed to relax anyways, and I have enough time on my hands if I wanted to please myself, I guess. It didn't take long for him to come, pulling out and painting himself on my abdomen and my breath labored, coming down from…. Well, not an orgasm, but being close to one. James was beat after that, and I don't blame him for that. He had been so busy recently, I was happy we just got to share a moment like this together again. 

I laid close to him under the sheets as we both recovered, James already half asleep. I had his hand in mine, kissing each knuckle of his and more, pouting all of my love into that moment. I looked up, having felt James’ eyes on me for a while. I met his blues, and there was a slight guilt in them, a gestation and regret. But, it didn't last long as he blinked it all away, taking another breath. 

“How are you feeling now? Did it make it any better?” I asked, my voice heavy with sleep as I lazily continued to press kisses to his hand.

“I mean, yeah, I guess… It wasn't like, amazing though… I've had better, normally the groupies can do a bit more than that, y’know?” James said cooly, acting as if the words he just said didn't mean anything and had no weight to them.

“What?” Was all I could muster out, the tears already filling my eyes as I tried to process all of this.

“You heard me, the groupies normally do better.” 

The words came so normally from his mouth, as if he was just telling me the date and time. But no, he was comparing me to prostitutes, previous women he has slept with. I began to cry, not just out of hurt and sadness, but this time anger. How could he say something like that to me?

And then the worst part hit.

He was sober.

Something I would've wanted more than anything else just a few days ago is now what is causing this experience to be even worse than it is with the horrible comparison and insults James had spewn at me. He meant it. Alcohol was toying with his brain, making him into the aggravated man I had grown to know quite well over the years.

“Are… are you serious? After everything? I put myself through hell to deal with this, to go to work, to do EVERYTHING for you! I have tried so hard James. And Yet you still compare me to them?! Sluts with prices on their heads?!” I cried, anger and hurt filling the fire in my eyes, and I could swear I saw Jamw\es’ cold attitude falter for just a moment. Maybe it was what I was hoping for, that it was all an act, that he truly did love me deep down, but maybe he didn't. Maybe this is the truth I had been hiding from all these months.

James didn't res;ond, just sighing with a shrug.

That's what pushed me over the edge.

“Are you fucki ng serious? You're not even gonna try and fight for this? Get out of here! We're done. Since you don't appreciate anything I do for you nowadays, I don't want you in here anymore. Pack your shit and leave.” I cursed at him as I continued to sob, processing the moments that passed, feeling as if the earth was slowing, each second hitting me hard and heavy.

I could see a slight guilt in James’ eyes, and as much I wanted to believe it was true, I couldn't give it in myself to do that anymore. I couldn't keep living this lie. He nodded, staying silent as I cried, slipping on his clothes and grabbing some things he'd need for the night.

“I loved you because you loved me, or so I thought you loved me, truly you don't give a shit!” I called out again, hearing James breath hitch at my harsh words, but he just left. No goodbye, the final words spoken to us only filled with hate and hurt, though millions went unspoken.

— —- — —> A FEW MONTHS LATER…

Not a lot has happened since I broke up with James, but a lot has changed. Maybe for the better. I miss him terribly, but a lot of weight is off of my shoulders now. I'm no longer worrying about having to make elaborate meals for him, or to do everything in my power to make him happy as [possible, watching my words at all times to make sure I wont say anything that might upset him. It was a large change. The house is still cold like how it was with him, but its a different kind of cold. There is no warmth of another body. Its quiet, no more TV static and laughter or guitar. Work had only gotten more tiring, but I had recently gotten promoted, something I had wanted for a long, long time.

I haven't spoken to James since we broke up. I know he had come by the next day, as when he left that night he only took clothes to last him the night, and when I came home from work, all of his belongings were gone, and his spare key was left on the counter, all of his music gear out of the house, leaving me a now empty room, not to house his guitars, and no longer holding the hopes and dreams of a future child.

Or so I thought all of his stuff was gone.

I came home after work, the house dark and silent, turning on the lights before going into the former music room, which had now become my office for the time being, as I needed one for the promotion, to be able to have a comfortable spot where I could do other work tasks from home. I set down my purse, sitting in my computer chair and sliding off my heels. I saw something in the corner of my eye, something that somehow had never caught my eye all these months. 

An ashtray, repurposed to hold James’ many guitar picks. It was behind a lamp that was in the corner of the room on an end table. There was more than just guitar pics, but one of his rings. Like the ones he always wore on stage, the cool reflective metal that shone brightly under the spotlight. I paused, only having gotten one heel off, so confused as to how I never noticed. I sat in this same chair, facing the same direction, taking my heels off the same each day. I quickly got the other off before walking towards the table, picking up the ashtray, having remnants of cigarette butts and ash, some of which covered the pics. There had to be at least 20 of those pics, I don't know how James could forget such a thing, along with one of his more favorite rings. He wore it when we met, but I never made the connection as to that being the reason he left it. I missed him, yes, but having these almost made it worse. Like the world was teasing me that he is gone, that I won't be able to be held by him again, because he doesnt love me anymore. How I still love him, I don't know. Part of me still wants to believe he never meant any of it, but the chances of that being true is slim now. But, I didn't have the heart to call him, to return them to him. He would have come to get them by now, right? 

I picked up the cold metal, holding it in my hand before slipping it on my ring finger. It was too large, slipping off quite easily. I tried the next, my middle finger, and it fit well enough to not fall off. It felt so wrong to wear, but it made me feel closer to him. I hated it, but I loved it. A little piece of him to be with me always. ‘God, I sound like a wife mourning her husband who died in a war.’ Was all I could think to myself, setting back down the ash tray and taking off the ring before sitting back down in my office chair, trying to shake my head of the matter so I could focus on the important task at hand, work.

I spent about two hours on the assignment before finishing it among other things, now exhausted even further. I stumbled towards the bedroom, changing into my pajama pants and a sleep shirt. Since the break up, I have refused to wear or even look at the clothes sJames had bought me. I didn't feel any desire to wear those things now that I knew he would be the one to see me in them. I never really wanted to wear clothes like that, but knowing he liked it made me like it. Now that he's gone, so is that enjoyment. I layed down on the mattress, sinking down as it swallowed me and the day whole. I had gotten used to the loneliness of sleeping alone, even after having a body next to me for the last four years. Maybe it was an easier adjustment as towards the end it was like sleeping next to no one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The last few months are hard to describe. I can't explain it, I really can't. I've never been more lonely in my life, drowning all of my sorrows in the bitter bottles that wasted away each night and day. I've tried putting my energy elsewhere, focusing more on the band than I was earlier, trying to pour my emotions into guitar and lyrics, but nothing works. Nothing matches what I once had. What I threw away. What I ruined. Though, all my life, through all my struggles, there was one thing I learned.

Mask your emotions, hide your turmoil. It's something I had quickly gotten good at from a young age.

Or so I thought.

I went out for drinks with Lars to discuss lyrics and other parts of music for the record, as we normally had for our other productions and everything. We had another few weeks before we went into the studio, where we planned to record for many months, wanting this release to be the best we ever had. 

Before I had even gone out to the bar with Lars, I had already had a few bars at home, or what I had tried to make into my home. It was a home, yeah, but it didn't feel homey. There was no warmth or touch to it to make it seem whimsical or joyful. I know I have a problem, but what is there I can do. 

When I got there, Lars’s car was already outside, and I knew I was late by thirty minutes, having to build up the motivation to leave the house for a reason other than food, so trying to get up and socialize and talk about important stuff was not on my top choices to do.

I trudged in, my eyes darting around for the Danish, who was never that hard to find. And as I expected, I found him somewhat quickly, taking a seat next to him and ordering a drink for myself.

“Hey man, where the fock have you been? Been waiting here ages for ya,” Lars commented with his laugh, sipping on his own drink.

I just shrugged, “Sorry man, there was just…” I tried to think of a reasonable excuse, but none could come to mind. “Traffic, y’know, it gets bad around five or six, all those people getting off of work,” I explained, thinking I was an expert at this facade.

“Alright, whatever you say. Let's get to work now, yeah?” Lars tried to believe me, but it was clear he knew there was something more to what I said. 

I just nodded, “Yeah,” I answered, and Lars took out his notepad where he already had some ideas for songs. The mask was as strong as stone, no way to see in.

Or so I thought.

 Lars looked back to me, a thought popping back in his mind, “Traffic? There's normally not much in this area, I mean before you moved out of that place, shit, traffic was bad, but here? No way,” Lars questioned me, no longer believing a word I had said. 

“Well, I guess it was just different today…” I muttered, “Let's just start now, leave it be,”. Lars agreed reluctantly, and soon we were sharing ideas sas I jotted down lyrics, Lars taking turns as we debated on the new project.

Of course, as we worked, we were drinking. Me more than him, and it was getting me tipsy, and then drunk. Normally we wouldn't get drunk during lyric writing, just a bit.. Wobbly, I guess. We were just reviewing the lyrics for the third song we were jotting up and I had ordered another drink.

“Jesus man, you only focused on drinking? We got shit to do!” Lars complained to me, and I just shrugged. “Sorry, got my priorities here…” I joked, and Lars only gave a pity laugh.

“Is something up? You've been acting weird as hell for the last few months. We barely see you anymore, and when we do, you're late.” He informed me firmly, clearly not wanting to put up with my demeanor much longer.

“I'm fine, didn't I already tell you that?” I responded, and at this point I just wanted to go home. “Well, you can tell me it a million fuckin’ times and that doesnyt mean Ill believe you,” He rebuttled, and I sighed. “So, what's up with you?”

I didn't want to answer, well sober me would've deflected. But drunk me? He doesn't have much of a filter. Who does when they're drunk anyways?

“Nothings up with me, just dealing with shit…” I answered, taking another sip of my drink.

“Ok, well dealing with what?” 

“The breakup, and everything,” I answered, my eyes avoiding Lars’s own.

“Ohh, yeah, I see. What happened anyways? You never went into detail, just saying she kicked you out in the middle of the night. The fuck did you do to her?” He laughed, but the sting of the memories still remained.

“I.. well, I told her she was a shit cook, lazy, didnt work as hard me, and that groupies fuck better,” I admitted. Lars' face changed from a small smile to a look of shock.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah”

“What would make you say something like that?! That's totally messed up!” I knew this would be shocking, especially coming from me to say something like that. But I didn't expect him to be this shocked.

“No, I did it for a reason, I'm not just some asshole! I didn't want to break up with her, and I didnt want her to break up with me, but I knew I had to get her to break up with me. I keep drinking, and it makes me into… I don't know, I'm a different person and I don't want to hurt her. The only option was to force her to break up with me.” I tried to explain, but Lars was quick to respond.

“Only option?! Have you heard of rehab? Getting help? Did she just let you waste away?”

“I didn't want to go to rehab either, and no, she did try to help, but I don't want help…” It was getting embarrassing at this point, showing how weak I had become.

“James, not everything is about what you want! There's things you need to do, but you don't want to. Those are just as important.” He paused, hoping my worlds would process through me as he thought of an idea. “How about this, clean up your act a bit and I'll get her back over here and you can go back to paradise, alright?” Lars offered and I perked up a bit.

“How the hell do you expect her to come back to me after all of that?”

“I never said she'd come back to you, I said I can get her over here, make you guys talk or something.” He corrected me, and I just rolled my eyes.

“Well how are you gonna get her to come here? She probably hates me at this point,” 

“I have my ways, we were closer friends than you probably remember,” Lars’ words didn't help. He could never explain his plan, and that's what always ticked me off about him.

“Fine, whatever, work your midget magic or something,” I muttered under my breath.

“What did you just say to me?” 

“Nothing, nothing, just do whatever it is, alright?” 

“Fine.”

— — — — > A WEEK LATER…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time moves slow these days. But not in a bad way, it was nice that life was hitting the breaks a bit instead of the pedal. Though, that joy wouldn't last long.

I sat in my office chair at work, working on some papers my boss had handed me a few minutes ago. He was giving me stack after stack after stack of papers today, all coming with my promotion I got a bit back. More money means more work, and more work means more money, so I guess it isn't all too bad in the long run. I glanced up from my paper, eyeing the now double repurposed ashtray, one being made for the intents of cigarette butts, then guitar pics, and now it held my keys and some other trinkets, including one singular guitar pic of James, one of his favorites. 

I was startled out of my thoughts by hearing the office phone ring, quickly reaching to grab it, assuming it was a customer call.

“Hi, this is Capital Advisors, how can I help you?” I offered in a cheery tone, but the voice I heard response was not what I had expected.

“Hey man, look, it's Lars, something happened to James, you mind heading down to the studio?”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Sure, Lars and I were close, but we haven't talked much since James and I’s break up. My words caught in my throat, processing the second half. “Something happened to James? What happened? Is he ok?” Even though he proved himself worthy of a break up, I still couldn't shake my love and worry for him.

“Uhhhh, yeah, no, sure he's fine, but you just needa come to the studio?” Lars rambled, not sure how to keep up his lie.

“Ok, yeah, of course, when do I need to be there?” My mind was racing, Lars wasn't being direct with what happened, so my mind could only think of the worst. He always poland things off to make them not seem as bad as they were. What if James fell and hurt himself? Overdosed on something? Only darker thoughts hit my mind.

“Like, now, this can't wait,” Lars demanded, and I had no choice but to agree.

“Yeah, I will be there as soon as I can, ok? Tell him I’ll be there soon, I don't want him to worry,” I gave in and then Lars thanked me and hung up. 

Now I don't know what to do. My boss wasn't the type of person to just let me leave whenever I want, and I had already promised to Lars I would be there immediately. Though, my worries got the best of me and I quickly began to gather my stuff together. I grabbed my keys and my purse, quickly heading to my boss's office. 

I always hated going in here, it was freezing since the AC was always blasted, and it reeked of musty air freshener. I gently knocked on the door before I heard his baritone voice respond, telling me to come in. I entered, seeing him sitting there, filing papers. 

“Can I help you?” He said in a monotone voice, opening and shutting cabinets.

“Yes, I need to leave, like right now. ITs an emergency, family matter,” I tried to briefly explain, but it didn't take long for him to come up with a new response.

“Emergency? Of what? Is someone dying?” His eyes looked up from his papers, meeting mine as he waited for an answer.

“I… Well, I don't know,” I muttered, and it was true, I really didn't. With Lars’ vagueness, I tru;y didn't have a reason to not assume James was already on his deathbed.

“How can you not know?” He questioned me as if I was stupid, then noticing my pale and shaky look of true worry, “Fine, yes, you can go, but you're leaving three hours early. I want you working those hours back tomorrow. Understood?” He finally made an offer, and I quickly accepted without hesitation.

“Yes, thank you, and I'm sorry,” I responded with a smile and a nod, quickly leaving the office and getting to my car as fast as possible. Lars never specified where exactly the studio was, but I had been there a few times with James to hear them practice and record. I did my best to remember the way there, speeding in some places and having to make a couple U turns to figure out the exact spot. The whole time my head was buzzing, I could not think of one normal reason as to why James would want me there. He clearly didn’t like me much towards the end, even though I still like to think he never meant it and that it was only the alcohol talking, but I was probably wrong. Why did I still care so much after being so wrongfully disrespected? Part of me still loved him. Still wanted to wake up next to him every morning, hear the faint strumming of a guitar whenever I came home from work. Now those days were gone, and never looked like they would return. I still worried for the worst for James, endless horrid possibilities arising in my brain, all trying to piece the puzzle together.

When I finally pulled up, I saw two other cars out in front, not seeing James’ car, assuming Lars gave him a ride and KIrk giving Jason one. No cop cars or ambulances or fire trucks, so he isn't dying, or maybe they already left. Maybe I was too late? 

I quickly got out of the car, almost running to the studio door, knocking until Lars came and opened it for me.

“Hey! There you are, took ya long eno-” Lars was quickly cut off by my own anxieties.

“Where is he? Is he ok? Was I not fast enough?” I quickly voiced out, my eyes darting around the inside and searching for him.

“Yeah, relax. He's fine. He's inside-”

“If he's fine then why did you make me come here from work?! I thought he was dying or something crazy,” I cut him off, questioning his efforts.

“No, none of that, you worry too much. He just wants to talk with you,” Lars answered, and my previous worries and a new suspicion grew in me.

“Just want to talk? Last time I talked with him he was critiquing me! He hates me! He doesn't want anything to do with me!” I voiced the feelings that had been clawing at me for months, never having anyone to tell them to.

“Or so you think. Look, just talk to him, that's all this is, ok?” Lars grew tired of my attitude and clearly I would have to give in soon.

“I want to, I want to talk to him, but I doubt he wants to talk to me,” I responded, trying to further explain my hesitations.

“I just told you that he wants to talk to you! Go in there, please!” Lars pleaded with me, and I sighed, finally agreeing.

“Ok, ok, I will,” I answered, beginning to head into the studio.

“Thank you! He's just down the hall, in that room with the sound equipment and everything,” Lars informed me, and I followed him, seeing James hunched over a table, scribbling down on a piece of paper. My heart was racing now. I hadn't seen him since that night. I didn't know what I would say to him, I was worried what he would say to me.

Then he looked up at me.

His cold, piercing blue eyes, a newfound softness in them as our eyes met. I avoided his eyes, but felt his lingering on me. Lars guided me in, shutting the door behind himself, leaving us alone. I was unsure of what to say, my eyes lingering on the floor, hearing James set down his pen.

“Uh… hi…” He started, probably just as unsure as I was.

“Hi,” I responded back shyly, avoiding his gaze, though I could still feel his own on me. The sound of footsteps approached me, instantly recognizing them as James’, and then I heard a click. Lars had locked us in here, now forced to talk.

“I.. I'm sorry, I really am,” He mumbled, and I looked up at him, seeing a true guilt in his eyes, “I wish I didn't do it, that I didn't say those things, that I didn't make you hurt so much like that… I should’ve been much more, well, mature about it. I feel like shit for everything,” James explained to me, but this only caused me to have more and more questions.  

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice still a hushed whisper as a wave of various emotions crashed down on me. “I had reasons for what I did, I just wish I went about it differently. I wish I had listened to you when you had offered me help. I didn't want to hurt you with my habits, and I couldn't break up with you, I didn't want to be the one to do that, so… so I tried to make you break up with me, and you did. Everything I said, it was a lie. I never meant it. You're a great cook, you work hard, you're just… you're amazing, you're too good for me.” James confessed, and I could feel a bit of the cold melt away, though still a hurt in my heart.

“Then why make me come and tell me all of this? This would only pour salt in that wound, no?” I was still confused at why he would make such an effort, but I still found it touching.

“Because I still love you. I want things back the way they were. I swear on everything, I've changed. I miss you more than anything-” I cut him off with a sweet kiss to his lips, and he melted into me, wrapping his arms around me in a comforting and loving embrace.

After James pulled away, he looked me in my eyes, “How could you forgive me for saying all of that to you?” He began, “Id think you would just… hate me, I was a total jerk,”

“Or so you'd think. I still love you and miss you more than you could imagine,” I responded with a  small smile, and James matched mine, kissing me again. “Can… can I show you how much I've missed you?” James asked in a mumbled tone, clearly a bit embarrassed. My cheeks heated up at his offer and I giggled, nodding as our lips met a third time, a new hunger and desire now displayed. Slowly, he walked me to the table until I had backed up into it, his hands trailing up my sides until we broke away, his lips now going down my neck, eliciting a needy whine from the back of my throat, my hands pulling him closer, snaking under his shirt to trace his skin. 

James’s fingers slipped under my shirt, working to get it off of my head, leaving my neck for only a second to remove the fabric before attaching himself to my sensitive flesh, feeling him suck and nibble, definitely leaving bruises. He gave a more harsh bite, causing me to whimper, then soothing it over with his tongue before pulling away. Soon his gaze focused on my breasts, still confined with my bra. His eyes met mine again, “Can I take it off?” He asked ,already reaching around my back to work on the clasp, which had become an easy task for him. I nodded, and soon the garment was now on the floor with my shirt. The cold air caused my nipples to erect immediately, and James’ eyes were locked on them, cupping the in his hands as he squeezed them and pinched at my nipples, making me make high needy sounds, causing him to smirk, kissing around the soft flesh, teasing me with every movement he made. 

I began to claw at his shirt, trying to take it off of him, so he reluctantly pulled away from my chest, removing his own shirt, giving me a view I had missed more than I care to admit. My eyes dragged slowly over the newly exposed skin, and his lips crashed down on mine again, pushing me back so far I was now laying down on the table, the cold wood causing goosebumps to rise on my skin. I tugged at James’ pants, feeling myself grow wetter at the moment. He slipped down his pants, leaving him in only his boxers as you pulled down my skirt, leaving me in only my panties. I could see the bulge in his final layer grow at the new sight, and then he got on his knees, gripping the sides of my aunties and taking them off in a swift motion, leaving my glistening folds exposed to his hungry view.. His warm lips teased my thighs, kissing around the area I needed him most, making me writhe with desire. Eventually, his tongue found my center, giving it soft licks at first, parting my folds with his tongue. A moan escaped my throat, and James took it as his sign to keep going, burying his face between my thighs. He licked and sucked at my hole, probing at it with his tongue as his nose nudged my sensitive clit. My hand snaked into his long blonde locks, gripping his scalp tightly as I pulled him closer. I could hear him groan into my flesh, causing a vibration to coarse through me, making me moan again as I came closer to my first high. Eventually James moved further up, giving more attention to my aching clit, giving it gentle licks first to tease me before sucking it into his mouth, biting it softly, making me squeal from his ministrations.

“Jamei, fuck, Im gonna cum,” I whined out, tugging on hair harder, causing him to let out another low groan as he continued to feast on me. “Cum for me pretty girl,” He mumbled into my flesh, and like that my orgasm washed over me, a breathy moan falling my lips, feeling my core pulsate , releasing my grip on James’ head, allowing him to pull back.

James chin was drenched in my essence and his spit, some caught in his facial hair, wiping it off on the back of his hand. I dont think Ive seen anything hotter. His eyes landed on mine, and I noticed a lustful darkness in them, kissing me again as our tongues tangled in a battle for dominance, James winning in the end, and soon his boxers were on the ground, both of us bare in front of each other again.

JAmes broke the kiss, trailing his lips down my neck, leaving new hickeys and bruises in his wake as they now peppered my neck. I felt his tip at my entrance and I squirmed, his lips leaving my bruised flesh. “You ready, baby?” He asked, taking my hand in his, and I nodded, feeling him slowly push into me, the stretching sensation stinging my insides, a delicious stretch my body had missed as I tried to accommodate his size. Once he was to the hilt, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, squeezing his hand tightly.

I gave him a look of a need, and he gook note, slowly beginning to pump his hips, untwining our fingers as he positioned himself with better support, placing his arms on either side of my head. With every thrust a moan escaped my throat, tears pricking at my eyes from the pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so tight… haven't had anything since me, hmmm?” James whispered to me, and I could only whine in response, his calloused fingers sneaking down to my clit, brushing the bud lightly with the pad of thumb, and I began to squirm around his cock, feeling his thrusts increase with speed, more grunts falling from James.

The table I laid on creaked beneath from our frevorus movements of need, completely forgetting we were still in the studio. The band was still in that studio. This room wasn't for recording, very little sound blockers. Anyone in this building could hear us. The thought didn't pass my mind once throughout the whole experience, only focused and becoming closer with James once again, not just in body, but in our connection reforming with every minstration from either of us.

James' thrusts grew relentless, only increasing the pleasure for both of us as he chased his own high, helping me with mine, continuing to toy with and stroke my clit, moans and whines leaving me with any movement he made. “So pretty like this, baby, taking me so well,” He groaned, his small grunts and moans filling my ears like sweet music. I began to buck my hips, knowing that my orgasm was approaching, James not far behind, his vocal expression of pleasure growing in number and volume, mixing with my own mewls and moans, that and the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room, my nails clawing his back.

My eyes began to roll back, James’ name falling from my lips a thousand times as my legs wrapped around his waist, trying to pull him deeper to finally bring me to edge. James noticed and thrusted harder, hitting that special spot with every movement, making me have to cover my mouth with my hand, the unholy noises escaping me growing too loud for us to stay secret. James disapproved, “Mmmm, don't do that baby, let me hear you cum around my cock,” He cooed, and that was all the encouragement I needed to come over the edge, a high pitched moan coming from me, feeling my walls clamp down on James’ length, pulsating as waves of pleasure cascaded over me. James helped me ride through it, still rubbing my sensitive nub, his thrusts losing rhythm as he approached his own high.

“Fuck, sweetie, gonna cum inside you…” He grunted, his pace increasing as his movement became erratic with pleasure. “Take it, take it like a good girl, baby,” He moaned, his load shooting deep inside of me and painting my walls white with his seed. His hips sputtered, bucking into me as he collapsed on top of me, our sweaty foreheads clinging together as we both recovered from the intense orgasms, trying to catch our breath. James pressed soft, lazy kisses around my face, reminding me how much he loved me and how he'd never hurt me again if given the chance.

After a moment, we both had come down from our highs, James’ softening member sliding out of me with a pop. He looked down at the mess between my thighs, all evidence of our pleasure with each other. “Youre fuckin’ perfect,” He muttered, his eyes dragging over me.

“Are the groupies still better?” I teased him, remembering our bickering that was one real, or so I thought it was real fighting.

“Oh, hell no, they don't stand a chance to this,” He responded with a smile, and I smiled back.

We cleaned up, slipping back on our clothes so we were somewhat presentable. Only now did the realization that we were never once alone in this studio and the rest of the band was outside had hit me. A wave of embarrassment flowed over me, my cheeks flushing even more than they were before given the previous activities. Both James and I looked quite disheveled, our hair a mess and clothes wrinkled. I tried to shake off whatever nervousness I had in me as James put his arm around me. We went to reach for the door handle, only to find out it was still locked. Now it would be even more awkward. James knocked on the door from the inside, calling out to Lars, or anyone else in the studio.

“Guys? Lars? Can someone unlock the door?” And it wasn't long before footsteps approached, hearing a key click as the door swung open, Lars, more curious than ever eyed both my own and James’ appearance, noticing the hickeys, the slight wobble I gave, and any other imperfections that we might have displayed.

“I take it you two worked things out?”

— — — — > A FEW WEEKS LATER…

It had taken some time, a lot of talking, and more than just one hook up for James and I to work out any other issues that we had with each other. We met up a lot in the recent weeks after that, discussing different ways on how to help James with his drinking, and just trying to regain eachothers trust.

Soon enough though, James had moved back in with me. I kept my office space, but now the room was split in two halves. I worked in one half, while James did his guitar work in the other half. It was a fairly large room, so we both had our own spaces and rarely bothered each other. If I had a work call or anything that required silence, James would just migrate to the living room.

It was the same old schedule we had all those months ago, and I was now returning from work. It was Friday, now I would have plenty of time to relax and be with James. I pulled into the driveway, parking and getting out of my car as I walked up to the porch, the click of my heels following my steps on the cement. The lights were on, the door unlocked. I could hear a faint strumming coming from inside, meaning James was hard at work on new material for the album. It was my favorite thing to listen to while doing work assignments at home.

I walked in with a huff, setting down my purse and keys on the counter before heading to the shared office space. James wasn't playing much, just sounded like scales and chords for his warm ups. “How was work, baby?” James greeted me, still focused on his guitar. “It was a bit tiring, but it was good. I think my boss is starting to like me,” I answered, settling into my chair. He nodded in response, going back to fiddling with the strings.

It wasn't until a little later a soft, sweet and melodic tune had hit my ears. Much different than what Metallica normally plates. James hummed along to it, almost like he had lyrics already written out. But knowing him, he probably did.

“What are you playing? It sounds really nice,” I started, listening to a few more notes before continuing, “It's not what you guys normally play,” I commented, and James let out a deep hum in response. “Just something new I'm working on,” He replied, and I nodded, getting back to work.

Only this time, I couldn't focus. Normally James’s music helped me to focus, becoming a comforting background noise. This time though, I couldn't get my mind off of that melody. He kept going, and each second I kept getting more and more captivated by it. 

“That songs really pretty, I like it,” I said, scribbling down whatever notes I couldnt on a piece of paper. “Thanks, it's actually, uhm..” He trailed off, and I knew something was up. I spun around in my chair, going to face him. “It's what?” I asked, confused by his shy demeanor. 

“It's called ‘Nothing Else Matters’,” He stated, finally stopping picking at the strings. “Nothing Else Matters?” I repeated, connecting whatever the lyrics might be in my head to the melody. Normally their slower, melodic songs were dark and heavy topics, so I expected the same with this one.

“Yeah,” James answered, “I wrote the lyrics about you, actually,” He muttered softly, though I still picked it up. “About me?” I questioned, slightly shocked. “Yeah… I've thought a lot about, well, everything recently. Ever since that point a few months back I've reflected and everything… Rumors spread, and I just want everyone out there to get the right idea,” He paused, searching for the right words, “I want people out there to know that you're all I care about, you mean more than the world to me, and I want everyone to know that,” He stated, his tone true and emotional. I had never heard him say sweeter words to me, and I knew that he was speaking nothing other than the truth, I could see it in his eyes, there's a way to read people, and James wasn't easy to read, but you soon could learn the lingo.

“That means a lot to me, Jamie,” I answered, smiling at him. I got up from my chair to sit next to him on the couch, leaning against him. “Thank you,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “You don't need to thank me, sweetheart,” James responded, wrapping his arm around me.

And now, I knew my whole world was whole again. What was once hatred, or so I thought was hatred, was once again love, everything as it should be.

[httpskuzuu]

L”m so happy your back! I would like a request a yandere! Pm Dazai (18 yrs old) with a darling who’s naïve and innocent (of course he kidnaps them) how would he react to a such pure person! Thank you for taking this request.

Yandere!PM!Dazai with a naive and innocent reader

This is the first time I write for PM!Dazai (and I do headcanons), don't kill me

Yandere!PM!Dazai x Reader

Idk english, I don't like english, let me

summary: the title :D

tw: kidnapping, corruption of innocence, stalking, death (not reader or Dazai), physical and psychological abuse, maybe something else but idk

Honestly, I don't know how you got into this situation.

I can only think of two options as to how you ended up getting his attention: Dazai was looking for someone like you or you just surprised him.

With the first option, I guess he wanted to get away momentarily from everything he had known in his life, get someone who wasn't as fucked up as he was.

Or you just came unexpectedly into his life, maybe you got involved in one of his missions without having any idea.

Either way, Dazai was dazzled by your innocence.

You are the opposite of him and he wants to keep it that way, he knows what this world is capable of doing to pure souls like yours and he is not going to allow that.

First he won your trust, it was easy, you trusted everyone too fast, you didn't even doubt him in spite of his strange attitude that didn't let you see beyond him.

You never realized the danger in front of your eyes and that only made Dazai adore you more.

He would know every little part of your life, the names of all your friends and the places you go to, he always has an eye on you.

He would keep your friends and family away from you, he's not afraid to kill, threaten or torture others for that purpose.

Deep down, all he wants to do is to corrupt you.

He wants to be the one to destroy your innocence, to show you the cruelty of the world, even if it is contradictory to his initial purpose.

Maybe that's the reason he kidnapped you.

And oh god, that's when the real fun begins.

He doesn't care about your opinion, not in the slightest, and punishments are just around the corner.

Forced affection would be a normal thing, he sees you as a kind of safe place where he can be a bit more vulnerable, just a bit 🤏

Still, I doubt he would ever let you see his true feelings.

That would only be way down the road in your relationship, when Dazai can have complete confidence that you'll never escape.

Yandere!Dazai is not easy, least of all if he's PM Dazai, but your attitude would make it somewhat more tolerable.

Being such a naive little thing, he can trust you more easily.

Plus you're terrified of him, so you don't even think about running away.

But if you were to try… Well, remember what I said about punishments being just around the corner? Then get ready for torture.

Breaking bones, beating you unconscious, isolating you for days, starving and thirsting you, etc.

Although he usually mistreats you as well, it's all more psychological.

He wants to make you see the evil, to see you break and cry.

Makes him have a mix between sadistic joy and regret.

He really feels very guilty for everything he does, for seeing you in such a broken state.

He would never tell you, the closest you get to that would be a strangely silent Dazai cuddling like a koala bear to you.

I hope you have enough mental stamina to endure your stay with Dazai

Oh, and if he sees that he's broken you until there's nothing left of the original you or that all your innocence is gone, maybe he'll kill you because he's bored 😀

The image of your friend would not leave your head. He was immobile, cold, dead.

It was the first time you saw a corpse in real life, it made your blood run cold. Especially because you saw him die and you couldn't do anything about it.

Dazai killed him, after many hours of torture, one shot in his head and his screams stopped. You saw the blood spill on the floor along with pieces of flesh. You did not vomit because of the absence of food in your stomach, but the nausea was there.

He wouldn't let you take your eyes off him, even when he was torturing him. When his fingernails were being pulled out and his skin was burning. You had to keep watching or the torture would transfer to you.

You couldn't save him. Your throat was torn from screaming, but he was still dead. Would his corpse still be in that dark warehouse? Would that be his grave? At least you would have liked to have been able to give him a proper funeral, not abandon him.

You didn't understand how someone could be as evil as Dazai was. Your friend did nothing, he just worried about your disappearance. Now, because of you, he too would become a missing person.

The tears were still wet when an extra weight was placed on the bed. You refused to move, afraid that he would take you back to continue seeing those horrible things, things you can't even describe without breaking down in tears.

He lies behind you and wraps his arms around you, his hands that caused so many murders gently holding your body.

You never thought before that the perpetrators of these acts could be ordinary people, people you would trust and befriend. But they could be, the proof of that was Dazai, someone too young to be killing.

You are conflicted by the situation, you empathize with Dazai. You want to understand him and know what led him to be the way he is today, try to justify him, but he killed your friend. The dilemma of whether he deserved a forgiveness eats at you inside. Could his actions be justified by his past? Maybe Dazai is just a victim like you.

Be that as it may, apparently you still have time to think because he doesn't plan to let you go anytime soon.

I am sleep deprived

[rose-icosahedron]

I had an observation about this (to support it). Specifically you got the heart symbol, but I got some of the rest of the story for you.

In the tell-tale heart, the narrator feels the need to kill the old man because of his weird eye, and feels that he can only do this if that eye is open. He then hides the dead-man's heart under the floorboards but then keeps thinking he hears the heart after it's hidden. Both of these have to do with witnessing a crime relating to its effect or validity: the idea that the crime must be witnessed in order for it to work, and then a false idea of hiding something hiding the guilt.

I bring this up, not because of Annabel's habit of deception, but because of something in relation to it. In chapter 106 Leonore says she knows Annabel was lying because she has a tell, and from looking back through the story, I think Annabel's tell is that she tends to either look away or more often fully turn away from people when she lies to them. obviously she does this in both conversations with Leonore that Leonore say's she's doing the tell

she even closes her eyes in both instances, which is even further on, but that's not the only time she does this. we can see that she basically chronically cannot face Leonore when she says goodbye to her in chapter 43-44 (although, interestingly she turns to face Leonore when telling her about the genuine feelings she has about not wanting to marry some guy).

its also worth noting that in the needle work on page 43 symbolizing how Annabel is looking at a prospect future of repressing herself forever, her eyes are the part that are the most messed up.

there's another conversation where Annabel seems incapable of looking Leonore in the eyes, and that when she's discussing the reveal of only one life in the broom closet (trying to pretend she's calm), but ends up looking at her both when she gets excited talking about social currency, and when she is trying to convince Leonore she's not manipulating her. (41)

(Also, fun side note, but Leonore has a habit of grabbing Annabel and forcing her to look at her, which i think is neat from the angle that its her getting Annabel to tell the truth)

But yeah, Annabel's got more than just the heart motif going on.

Nevermore theory: Annabel Lee is tied to “The Tell-Tale Heart”

In Nevermore we already have characters who play dual roles for two different Poe works. For instance, this is seen with both Montresor and Duke. Montresor is both Montresor of “The Cask of Amontillado” and the Devil in “The Duc de L’Omelette” and Duke represents both Fortunato and the Duke in these stories

I think that Annabel Lee is one of these dual characters and is tied to both “Annabel Lee” and “The Tell-Tale Heart”. I don’t have much evidence to back this up except for one thing:

The heart is Annabel Lee’s symbol in Nevermore

It appears at her death

As part of her specter

And it’s her part of the Nevermore logo as the story’s deuteragonist (with the wings being implied to represent Lenore)

The creators of Nevermore have proven over the last season that they are VERY detailed and precise when it comes to the story’s writing. Even a small comment made by a character might have a callback/payoff later on. With that in mind, I find it highly unlikely that they chose to make Annabel Lee’s symbol the heart without considering how reminiscent it is of one of Poe’s most famous works.

I don’t have any detailed theories on how this might come into play but I just wanted to get my thoughts out lol

(Also you might see a post exactly like this in the tags. It’s my other account, I created a new one bc Tumblr for some reason isn’t letting my posts show up)

[thesamoanqueen]

Anatomy of an affair III

A/N: It's been a while, but finally here is the last chapter of this mini series. I had planned another scene, but in the end that's what matters is all here for my protagonist. I hope you will appreciate it and as always, dedicated to Aly

The ride to the campus had been an agony, a coupon for anxiety and the beginning of a heart or panic attack, the line between the two was confusing to me in that moment. Not because he was a bad driver, not because of the music we had been listening to on the half-empty streets of the city. It had been his presence and the thoughts that had suddenly started piling up in my head, partly thanks to the alcohol, partly because he was extraordinarily handsome. I had tried to look casual in his expensive car, but my act had ended with the first movement of his hand towards me… well, it hadn’t gone exactly like that, he had adjusted the heating, but my hormones had thought otherwise.

He had no comment about my flinch, making instead small talk, but he had grinned. A smug grin, satisfied with the power he had over me, imperceptible in the dim light of the car, the corner of his perfect lips barely lifting. I might be almost completely gone, but I wasn’t suffering from hallucinations, I was sure I had seen him, as I was sure of the game we had started from then on. The movements had become more frequent even if seemingly random, his voice lower and deeper as he asked me what I had done in my free time, without him… and although I had tried to keep calm, his scent so strong in the small space had made my stomach flutter. Between a glance out the window and at the clutch bag on my closed legs, I had glanced at his sculpted profile, his arms where muscles jumped out for the smallest gestures, the impeccable dark beard that left a shadow on the exposed neck on which my eyes lingered, making me wonder what it would be like… our eyes had met almost by chance during that ride and I had felt his slide over me, discreet but not innocent and inside me every certainty had begun to melt like a biscuit soaked in milk.

Tobert was the biggest piece of shit to ever walk out of a bathroom. He had hurt me like no one before, stepping on my trust, my intelligence, and years of life together for cheap affairs. Finding out it had helped me realize I had been babysitting a dead-end relationship, that I was in love with an idea instilled by our families and his insecurities, but it had also made me realize I could do without it and that I was better, yet I found myself falling for someone else.

How could I really be better than Tobert if I was thinking to spread my legs to someone I shouldn’t even be looking at? Yep, I had my needs like every woman and yes, Tobert had never had this effect to me in his most glorious and devoted five minutes, but was I justified? My friends’ answer would have been an absolute yeah. It was the same answer my body was screaming, for revenge and more, but it was such a crazy possibility! And I was really listing pros and cons as if I had to choose? Maybe Roman wasn’t even considering it, maybe we weren’t even flirting or were we?

- “Here we go”– his voice made my head snap from him to the car window, almost tearing some muscles to realize I hadn’t even noticed where we were.

Thank goodness he wasn’t a serial killer or I would have already been in pieces.

The car was stopped on the driveway in front of his apartment, I had asked to walk to mine to recover a bit and it had been the only smart idea of the night. At that hour there was no one around and plus it was the weekend, almost all the students were out. I watched him get out of the car and sighed, trying to calm down once and for all and prepare to say goodbye to him to go and bury myself in my bed with what was left of my dignity. I had let my thoughts run wild more than necessary as usual. Thoughts that jumped to attention again when I heard him open the door to let me out, a hand offering me help like a perfect gentleman. And I wanted to get angry at that umpteenth free lesson on how a man should behave, but I accepted, swallowing dryly as he rubbed his thumb over my fingers before releasing them. The air was cold against my cheeks, yet I felt everything in me burning, as I was standing between him and the car, unable to do anything but watch him stare at me as if every secret of mine was written on my face.

- “Are you sure you want to walk all the way there?” – he asked me attentive and I shrugged with a confidence that was ridiculous at that moment.

- “I didn’t drink that much” – I said and it was true, but I still ended up mumbling the last word as I saw him grinning once again, his brown eyes pinning me, studying me and…

- “Good girl”

There was something in the way he said it, in the way he spoke to me and swallowed me into his orbit, something I had never experienced and that terrified and electrified me at the same time. An attraction so strong it reduced me to a trance of silence and pushed me to take a step forward, throwing away everything I had repeated to myself, to close the distance between us and place my lips on his in a messy kiss of pure need. Roman didn’t even move and I widened my eyes, terrified after just a second, wishing an unknown illness would strike me in that moment to put an end to the shame that was suddenly destroying me.

What had I done?! What the fuck I was thinking? How could I?! How was I going to get out of this now?!

- “I-I “– and it was the only understandable sound I made because I had forgotten how to speak.

I wanted to blame it on the alcohol, on the emotional trauma, on someone, on something, but the truth is I had always been tempted and I wanted it. I wanted to try, to let go, to feel those electric shivers run through me like when he looked at me like that… exactly like he was looking at me now… Fuck.

- “Not here. Let's go inside.”

- “Huh?!” – I squeaked with wide eyes.

Did he want to let me go inside to yell at me or…

The answer was clear to me when after locking the car, his hand found me again, resting on my back, to push me forward, his dangerous grin on his lips again.

***

Entering his apartment at that hour had been a strange experience. It was a place I knew, where I felt comfortable by now and where I had therefore avoided staying longer than necessary perhaps knowing that it would be all it took to push me to give in completely. And it had really been like that, because even though he hadn't rushed anything, asking several times if I really wasn't drunk and if I was sure I wanted it, a caress was enough to make me melt between his fingers. Literally.

My mind had turned off feeling the heat of his body against mine, while he lifted me on the table where I had spent days checking notes and lessons. For the first time in my entire life I was really understanding what it was like to desire someone, the suffocating need to feel his fingertips caress my thighs, his eyes stripping me of all inhibitions, giving in to strangled moans just at the touch of his breath on my throat. I had clung to the wood with my nails, like a castaway in the middle of a storm and he had blown sweet words into my ears to relax me, before really kissing me and filling my mouth with his hypnotic flavor. And with the movement of his tongue on mine, the anxiety of finding myself in the arms of someone who wasn’t Tobert, who I hadn’t shared my whole life with, but who unlike him was reading my body like never before, had gone away.

It was something so forbidden, almost dangerous, and yet it had the flavor of all my desires.

Without haste he had let me get used to him between one kiss and another, until, gasping, unable to stay still, my hands had left the table to cling to his broad shoulders, exploring, climbing up along his neck to insinuate themselves in his dark hair that I had always wanted to touch and then on the solid muscles that jumped under his shirt. His moans of approval in my mouth had encouraged me, I had felt powerful and desired, the undisputed protagonist of his attentions and the desire in me had grown. I wasn't used to that kind of foreplay, I wasn't used to feeling my body sweat from a caress or tremble from a bite, it was a visceral and frenetic sensation. His every gesture, growl and whisper, slid along my back, on my chest and further down between my legs, where he had made space with disarming nonchalance and where his hands were finally enjoying the luxury of exploring. I would have worn the lingerie I bought before closing my market if I had known where that night would take me, but he didn’t seem to care and even in the darkness, I could see his eyes, his profile giving me shivers, as he pulled me closer and his thumb rubbed the fabric. The contact made me arch my back, pant and his smirk lit up the room, arrogant and satisfied, before rubbing again to play with the wetness I couldn’t hold back. I was a mess, like I had never been even after I was done, a puddle between his fingers that freed me of every block to sink into my honey tracing the entrance and walls, before brushing my sweet button. A few gestures and I began to tremble, trying in vain to hold back my moans as I felt him work me without squalid attempts to be more than what he was: perfect.

Right rhythm, right movement of wrist and his wet kisses, along my neck, on my lips, his teeth biting amused at my failed attempts to stay in control. I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to say my name if he had asked, I was almost on the verge of begging for mercy without having done anything yet, but when he moved away from me to sit on a chair between my legs I almost let out a sigh of relief.

I had never been a fan of oral sex when it was Tobert who did it and it rarely happened, but I would have had time to catch my breath, calm the mad rush of my heart and not seem so desperate to come only on his fingers… oh how wrong I was! My body trembled with a jolt at the first touch of his breath on my entrance and when his tongue tasted my lower lips up to the sensitive button, I really couldn’t hold back a curse.

- “Gawd damn!” – his raspy laugh echoed on my body, sending shivers down my spine, while he smugly adjusted my thighs, pulling them up to his shoulders without the slightest hesitation and not showing any signs of moving.

- “You taste better than I thought watching you work…” – the comment itself was already obscene enough, hearing it from him and when I felt like I was at a gynecological exam, made me stand up on my elbows.

He had imagined what while I was his assistant?! There? In the office? In class?!

- “Savannah calm down, breath, there is no reason to hold back here and now… don't make that face, consider it a private lesson” – he added, returning immediately to work, but if his idea to relax me was to remind me what kind of relationship we should have then it was a terrible plan.

- “It's not funny-ahn!”

His mouth on my most sensitive part devoured away everything my mind was about to complain about, as well as the rest of my protests and my dumb belief about control, extorting instead a moan from me I could not have stopped even if I wanted to. I felt his tongue trace every fold with indecent agility and then slide inside my channel, fat enough to make me tremble as he mixed my juices with his saliva, then sucked them away between his teeth with a sound that I would never forget.

- “If it’s not fun, I need to try harder then” – he murmured seriously, licking his lips and then placing a kiss on my button and I let myself fall on the table with a shiver, my body on fire.

I was perfectly aware of what he was doing, it was the how that left me breathless. The sensations I was feeling were almost unknown to me, all together, intense, powerful, unstoppable, it was pathetic to admit, but his skills proved me that in my life I had never been fucked well and what I had missed! I wanted so much to curse, I knew I should be angry for having been deprived of such a pleasure, but in that moment, legs spread wide on the table of an apartment where I shouldn’t have been, writhing between the expert movements of Roman’s lips as he ate me and the gurgles of appreciation with which he echoed my moans, I couldn’t remember who to blame. Staring at the above me, while a liquid and burning pleasure grew in my belly, I was unable to focus on anyone else but the perfect man who was sucking my button mercilessly, his hands on my body, the way he caressed me without giving me any break and his beard tickling my skin. That beard I had run my fingers over to kiss him, dark like his eyes as soon as I had agreed to stay and finally it was him who had come forward. I felt fragile and powerful like a bomb ready to explode in the silence of our secret, in my chest I felt a crack creaking with every labored breath, my body vibrating sweaty under his fingertips and that sensation of absolute oblivion sucking me mercilessly into his vortex.

- “R-Roman…” - gasping, my own fingers running over my throat where my breath struggled turning into strangled moans, I didn't even recognize my own voice.

But I clung to his guttural and hoarse “hum” breathed between my thighs, in the liquid folds of my center, the intensity of his adorable attacks along with the movements of my body to help him ruin me, satiating his thirst and my desire. A vortex of endorphins, dopamine and oxytocin out of control, blood replaced by the desire to have more, to feel more, a disorderly race towards that peak that flashed before my eyes on the ceiling of his apartment. I had the impression of climbing and falling at the same time, supported only by his arm under my ass, his heat so burning. I searched in the dark, my breasts, the table, until I found his hair and squeezed. Roman growled, murmuring something between my soaked folds, before sliding three fingers inside me, focusing with his tongue on my clit. He was so damn good and in the warm safety of his touch I felt my heart explode, my lungs, the crack in my chest finally open, my skin tremble in the fever of pleasure. I wanted to scream but my voice died the moment I reached my climax, leaving me gasping, my back arched, my fingers in his hair and my eyes closed now.

- “Sssh… like that… just like that…” - a whisper in the darkness of our affair, his irresistible voice still guiding me, while his fingers never stopped helping me with my burning need, riding the wave of oblivion, kisses on my thighs to encourage me.

It was what I had always deserved. What I needed and had instead buried with a sense of responsibility and the facade of being the bigger person. A life wasted in pleasing, when I should have been revered and pleased like in that moment. It was a bittersweet awareness that gave me a rush of anger, brought on by the post-coitus lucidity, but I no longer felt like wasting my time thinking about my misfortunes. I preferred to focus on the hunk of a man who had just stood up, looking straight at me as he licked my juices off his fingers.

Yeah! Thanks godness!

***

My wake up had been… more than one. The first time I had opened my eyes when it was still dark, twisted between the cozy sheets of his bed, probably after drooling on him. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure considering the multiple secretions we had happily exchanged, but there was a good chance. Remembering the many movies I had seen, I had tried to disappear into the darkness to play my part as a mature and emancipated woman, but he had put me back in my place with a firm “no” before even leaving the bed and when I tried to reply he had preferred to silence me with something else… I hadn’t complained. It had been such a good idea!

The second time he had been the one to wake me up. It was morning by now, but he had tried to be quiet anyway, telling me I could stay while he took a shower. Temptation had overcome me, I had tried, a few hours of sleep and all that physical activity were too much if you already had a shitty routine, but after turning over a couple of times I had decided it wasn’t the case. Picking up what I had there, I had gone back downstairs, remaining frozen for a moment staring at the table.

My panties were still on it. It was the kind of stuff you tell your grandchildren when you’re old.

It had been a crazy adventure and I probably would never be able to work in that apartment again now that I was really regaining awareness of the situation or maybe I wouldn’t have had the chance anyway, but it had happened. Strangely enough, however, I didn’t feel any sense of panic or guilt, no anxiety, I felt numb but that was normal considering the night’s performance. What mattered was that I felt good, as if a huge weight had slipped off my shoulders and I could finally turn the page. I felt like a different woman, more confident, ready to start over, even putting last night’s underwear in the middle of the living room didn’t seem so terrible. The same couldn’t be said for the messages on my phone, however, when I finally retrieved it almost completely dead on the couch, where I had also left my bag along with the clothes he had taken off me. Shanice and Mya had probably located my phone, because they had both bombarded me with obscene memes, happy for me I guess, but for some reason Tobert was furious.

He was all over my dms. “What happened, huh? What’s your problem?!” he wrote. My problem… audacity was on sale. He remembered having a relationship when it was convenient for him, but since I hadn’t been there waiting for his crumbs I was problematic now. He even left a voicemail accusing me of ghosting him, I was shocked, wow… one of his chicks must have played him over the weekend or he was in trouble at his job, for playing the victim. I had always been his relief valve, even though for years I had thought it was about being there for him to support him, he had always used me to cover up his own shortcomings, but I wasn’t going to let him play with me anymore.

It had never been fun with him, I wasn’t going to give him opportunities like I was a non-profit anymore.

- “Your ex?” – Roman called back, coming to me with his hair still soaking wet from the shower.

I had hoped to be ready to leave, but he had been faster than me and watching him walk to the kitchen still half naked, I didn’t mind that much. It was a nice way to start the day. I preferred to focus on the dark lines of the tattoo on his back rather than arguing with a kid.

- “Technically we’re still together, he’s not man enough to leave me” – I muttered without thinking too much, busy looking him up and down, casually and calmly making coffee for both of us.

Two cups, two plates, even breakfast? Tobert had never made me breakfast, he forgot to order for me even when we were together, that’s why I was always the one getting takeout. I had wasted so much time babysitting him that I had completely ignored how I should have been treated.

Roman gave me a puzzled look and I realized that I had been talking too much as usual. It was something I did a lot when I was with him, apparently it had nothing to do with anxiety, but in this particular circumstance maybe it wouldn’t have been the best thing to say. My no longer relationship wasn’t exactly the topic to talk about in the morning with the man I had fucked and slept with. Nope.

- “I’ll do it” – I specified, but it sounded so much like a reassurance now. Was I reassuring him? Should I have? I mean, it had been just one night, there was nothing between us, right? That was how it usually was done… right? – “Not because I expect something between us, I mean, I don’t expect anything even if it was the first time I had done it… with someone other than my ex, not yet ex, not in general, but it doesn’t matter! I’m going to break up with him” – I finally felt silence, exasperated with myself.

I glimpsed a smile curling his lips before he turned his back to finish making breakfast, but not a single comment. Silently I acknowledged my inability to hold a non-awkward conversation with him and finished gathering my things, careful not to forget anything around. It was still early and most of the students would only be back in the afternoon to start the new week the following day, but there was always the possibility of meeting someone on the way out and rumors were absolutely to be avoided for both of us. I settled in as best I could, struggling with my bangs hopelessly open in front of the mirror for a couple of minutes, before realizing that Roman had already finished cooking our breakfast and was watching me, sitting on the same chair where he had eaten me hours before.

Pushing the memory away, I sat down too, mumbling a ‘thank you’ when he offered me the plate on which he had arranged scrambled eggs and what looked just like a french toast. Was there something he didn't know how to do? I was hoping for a lack, whatever, before I left and started over with my life, but no. Of course not. It was even good, dammit!

- “Why do you keep waiting?” - he asked curiously after a while, sipping his coffee with his usual slowness, while I tried not to empty my plate.

For a moment I was confused, I didn't expect it, we had met because of the idiot, but he had never asked even when I had brought up the subject to apologize, he had always listened and pretended nothing had happened. Well, we had kept it as professional as possible before the intensive crossfit session around his apartment, maybe it was the sudden intimacy of the morning breakfast or the bullshit about the first one-night stand I had said.

It was a reasonable question though. I wasn’t happy to answer, but I had asked myself the same thing during my mental monologues lately and I knew the answer.

- “I wanted to know how long he would lie to me” – I admitted, finishing my eggs with a bitter grimace.

- “He’s used to having you, his mind will never make him choose to break up if he can leave things as they are. It can go on forever, it’s basic psychology” – Roman replied unexpectedly, swallowing a bite of his french toast and I looked at him like he had grown another head.

I knew I had wasted time, years, with an idiot incapable of taking responsibility and giving value to me, there was no need to make a case out of it like in a lab. It was a little deeper than that from how I saw it in my head.

- “I thought there was more than that between me and him” - I specified salty.

- “That's not true”

- “What do you mean?!”

Was that his lack by any chance? Emotional insensitivity?!

He gave me an amused look for my reaction, taking all the time he needed to finish chewing and stretch on the chair still half naked before speaking again, a fact that distracted me quite a bit I had to admit and didn't help to give value to the strange conversation born out of nowhere we were having.

- “You wouldn't have let me touch you like that if there was anything else”

Shit.

Twice shit because he was also right.

It wasn't the kind of consideration I wanted to hear someone else make. I didn’t want to do it either, but as terribly embarrassing as it was to talk about it again when I hadn’t had time to change my underwear and pretend our affair was something I could handle without second thoughts, he had hit the nail on the head. And he had figured it out before I did, which automatically erased the supposed lack I had tried to pin on him by putting myself on the defensive. Who was I kidding, anyway? I had admitted that I had never done it with anyone else. Doing that kind of thing wasn’t like me. I wasn’t the most romantic woman in the world, but I had always had respect for my failed relationship. But my sacrifices and efforts had led to nothing but lies and disappointments for me, so in the end I had given up. I wouldn’t have done it if I had thought it was still worth it, if in my heart I had believed I could have a chance with Tobert. Finding solutions and treatments to impossible cases was every doctor’s dream, but sometimes the cases were lost and persisting was a useless waste of energy. My relationship was already in a vegetative state, it was over.

I had had an opportunity to move on, one that doesn't come along every day, I had grabbed it and I hadn't regretted it for a second because I had finally focused on what I wanted and not what I had to. Roman was right, I felt light because I had no guilt, my conscience was clear.

But it didn’t stop me from freaking out when another notification broke the silence that had fallen inside the apartment. We both knew who it was, me for sure, Roman was probably guessing it because he was staring at me with a raised eyebrow as if waiting for my reaction… which never came.

- “You’re procrastinating” – he noted, taking another sip of his coffee.

- “That’s not true”

- “You continue to put it off”

- “I’m considering the most appropriate way”

- “Are you afraid of a scene?”

- “Please! He just has to try!” – another notification.

What the-

- “He’s trying I think”

- “He has delusions of protagonism”

- “Going along with it doesn’t help in that case” – okay, that’s enough.

- “I’m not going along with it and I’m not procrastinating” – I pointed out, hastily typing a message, then exasperatedly dropping my phone in the middle of the table as proof – “Done? See?!”

Silence fell between us and I was sincerely satisfied that I had stopped that interrogation in which he was questioning me even though he knew by his own admission that I had already made my decision, but then it hit me. Lord… Seriously?! I didi t?! I had finally broken up with Tobert, with a not too long message, without looking back, I was free. Roman was looking at me with a pleased grin, I had the impression that there was also a bit of pride on his part in seeing me take control of the situation and finally decide for myself. My eyes went from him to my phone that had suddenly stopped vibrating and another kind of silence enveloped me, the same one I had lulled myself into when I woke up. It was over. I had managed to completely cut that thread that had kept me tied by the neck to the past. It hadn't been the kindest way, but not even the one who was supposed to love me had had that kind of kindness with me. Mine hadn't been revenge, even though he would have deserved more than a punch in the face for how he had treated me, I had turned the page, I had done it for myself, now I could really move on. It felt so liberating.

Why had I waited?!

I instinctively turned to look at Roman again as he stood up with his cup, perhaps to get more coffee, that smile of someone who knows, plastered across his face.

- “Better?” - he asked and I relaxed my shoulders, resigning myself to having been tricked by another man, but for my own good this time.

- “I guess a thank you is needed” - his smile slowly turned into a smirk as he looked me over and over and my mind completely detached from the rest, to focus on him once again like the night before.

- “I’ll take it, but I would take something else too, maybe…”

A new day, a new life for a new me. It didn’t sound bad at all, not at all considering Roman’s proposal. It certainly sounded better than all the lies and dirty videos I had been replaying in my head over and over trying to find a reason. I wasn’t interested in finding out, I wasn’t interested in fixing what had been broken from the start and on which I had wasted so much energy. I’d rather spend it improving my life and what better way than another private anatomy lesson?

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @expert-texpert @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @surdelcielo @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @darqchilddaydreamz @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @joannasteez @reignsx @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @333creolelady @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @dreamsinfocus @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @smile1318 @headoftheetable @sortudademais

[thewistlingbadger]

I noticed the season 2 is AGGRESSIVELY less political than Season 1. So I'm going to examine the ideologies of three zaunites in order to explore this.

Vander: Vander was the first leader of The Undercity and he was given a special focus in season two, so let's look at his ideology. In the beginning, when Vander was a young man, he believed in the idea of The Undercity being it's own independent nation separate from Piltover. We worked alongside Silco to accomplish this goal, as they shared the exact same vision. The two men spent many years of their lives trying to make this happen. However, on one particular night, one of their demonstrations went south. Enforcers came and killed tons of Zaunites who were protesting on the bridge. One of the people lost on the bridge was Felicia, Vander's best friend. He had known her for years and had been around her children as they were growing up, those same kids who were on the bridge that night. From this point on, Vander's entire viewpoint and ideology completely changes on this night. From this point on, Vander abandons the idea of independency in its entirety. He never tries to pursue it again or even make any major changes to Zaun. He actively discourages people from trying to pursue a "better Zaun" because in his opinion, it's not worth the risk of losing people. As a leader, Vander's goal is to maintain the status quo. Nothing he does actively disrupts Piltover's view on Zaun, everything he does plays into that view. Under Vander, nothing changes in Zaun. They're still poor, they're still oppressed. Vander's biggest value is community and protecting everyone, values that are stitched into the fabric of Zaun. In the flashback we see of young Vander and Silco, we see that the last drop is more or less the exact same as it is in act 1 s1. According to Silco's dialogue in season 1 with chem barons, Zaun has always understood the importance of community. He tells them that before Zaun was anything of substance, the only thing that go them by was their loyalty to each other. So even Vander's importance of community isn't unique to him, it was just something he kept fostering that was already commonplace. Vander thinks that if things just stay the same, if they just stick together and keep their heads down, they'll be ok. That is how he leads. He's willing to do anything to keep the makeshift peace between zaun and piltover, and it's not even real peace. It's more akin to mutual tolerance. He has a deal with the enforcers to keep them away, but it's clear that in that deal, Piltover is the one in charge. And when Vander can't offer up his own people, Piltover breaks that deal and sends enforcers to the lanes.

Viktor: Although Viktor was born a zaunite, we mostly saw him in piltover in season 1. However, he's given a special focus in season 2. He spends the season in Zaun and we see how his presence is impacting The Undercity. With his new powers given by the hexcore, he "heals" the zaunites that have the worse afflictions, whether they be disabilities or addictions. He ends up forming a utopia-like community within Zaun, one where everyone is happy and they're self sufficient. This kind of community does challenge Piltover's view of Zaun. In the commune, there is no danger, no dirt, no suffering. Everyone works together, everyone is peaceful, everyone seems happy. This commune doesn't rely on Piltover for anything, they're relying entirely on Viktor on literally every front. However, this commune isn't Zaun. It's a selective place. Viktor isn't making sure all of Zaun has this community, he's only attracting the worst of the worst in a way. He doesn't care about healing zaun, he cares about healing humanity. In Viktor's mind, society would be better if there was no individuality. If everyone was the exact same, then there would be no prejudice, no reason to suffer, etc. Viktor doesn't actually care about fixing the system or even challenging it. He cares about The Glorious Evolution, a world where everyone is equal in every way. But his evolution wouldn't actually fix problems, it would just mask them.

Silco: Silco had no special focus in season two, but he was a significant character in season 1. As a young man, he dreamed of The Nation of Zaun, a world where The Undercity and its citizen are free from Piltover's influence and prejudice. He works with Vander to achieve this goal. However, on one particular night, one of their demonstrations failed. Violence sparked on bridge, and tons of Zaunies who were protesting on the bridge were killed by enforcers . One of the people that died was Felicia, Silco's best friend. Felicia was the one that encouraged Silco and Vander to pursue The Nation of Zaun. She told them that it was worth fighting tooth and nail for not only for them, but for future generations. Felicia's death was a major loss, but it was also a major inspiration. We can draw this conclusion based off some of the things he said in season 1.

"We came from a world were there was never enough to go around, that is why we fight." "You're too young to remember what the undercity was like before it became an 'enterprise'. We had nothing. You know what bore us through those times? Loyalty. Brothers and sisters back to back against whatever the world threw at us. Now I'm forced to share the air with people like you, who leech off their legacies."

Silco was not deterred by the bridge's failure, and he never gave up on the idea of an independent undercity. Even after Vander brayed him and refused to fight, even when he was cast out by Zaunite society. He kept working on his dream. He spent years of planning to make it a reality, until his opportunity came. Everything Silco does directly contradicts Piltover's view of The Undercity. Under Silco, Zaun managed to gain a bit of wealth, industries were established. We can see that overall, Zaun society advanced while Silco was in charge. Silco doesn't operate like a protector like Vander did, or like a messiah like Viktor does. He operates like a politician, because his goal is a free Zaun. Silco is the worst person out of the three men, but he's also the most political and he's the one that combats Piltover's idea of Zaun the most. He was also the most successful out of the three. When Vander died, his community fell apart. Their loyalty was gone and they all suffered. Viktor ends up being defeated in season 2. Silco managed to actually get an offer of independence while he was alive, and when he died, the council voted YES to Zaun independence.

Things do fall apart once Silco dies, but that's because everything was designed around one man and one goal. Silco was the one holding everything together, which is why everything falls apart in the undercity once he's gone. The most devastating thing about his loss, is that his ideas died with him. We don't see a single person speak of Zaunite independence in season 2. The zaunites in season 2 are just fighting against piltover, they're not fighting for independence, The people of zaun have NO IDEA that Silco actually did manage to get them independence. The fact that Sevika gets a council seat at the end of season two means that Zaun is STILL not it's own nation. It's STILL a state of Piltover.

The Nation of Zaun died with Silco.

I'm not sure why season 2 stays away from politics when season 1 was ALL politics- whether it was from Silco or the council. Maybe they got told to stay away from the subject, or they thought it didn't fit with the direction of season two. I don't know. But personally, I think it's a major loss that the show that centered pollical strife no longer cares for politics.

[skzhocomments]

1437 - “I need your help; I have money to pay you.” - Lee Know (Stray Kids) - Hitman AU

General Masterlist

Request me a story

Thank you for your request ♥

---

1437 - “I need your help; I have money to pay you.” - Lee Know (Stray Kids) - Hitman AU

Word count: 4k words

Wattpad | AO3

~

Writing Prompt 1437: “I need your help; I have money to pay you.” - Lee Know

~

This sucks. Minho thinks, letting out a large sigh and picking up some painkillers.

He hasn’t eaten much today, or the past few days, really, so it probably isn’t a good idea to take another ibuprofen on an empty stomach. He’s surely going to regret it, already feeling an impending stomach ache, but his head just hurts so badly. It won’t stop pounding.

He’s already tried drinking water, but oh, God, the white light coming from the ceiling is making everything worse. He really needs to take this pill.

The one thing he hasn’t tried is sleeping, but how could he sleep when there’s so much work to do?

A new file came in just today.

~

Kim Soo-ah, 25 years old. Picture attached.

Waitress: Mon-Fri 8:00-14:00 Endstreet 34, Cornerstone Diner

Maid: Mon-Sat 16:00-12:00 Client’s residence

Requirements: Eliminate target during Diner shift. Target wears a silver ring, has a small brown mole underneath. Send finger and ring as proof once you finish the job.

~

What did this girl do? Minho wonders. It’s the second request to finish off a maid he’s received from this client, but he was too busy for the first one, so he passed it over to one of his associates.

Although he dislikes working for this particular client, he always pays generously, so this time, he decides to accept it.

He’s a bit curious to know why his client keeps wanting to get rid of his maids. In case they heard something they shouldn’t have, it’d be much easier to silence them through other ways rather than killing them. Less of a hassle for Minho, at least. However, he can’t ask. That’s not his job.

His job is to simply follow these instructions to the best of his abilities and get paid. Nothing more, nothing less. Curiosity has no place in his line of business, and he’s better off not knowing any other details.

Before having enough time to flip the page and look at her photo, though, his door opens, making him raise his eyes from the papers.

“Boss, someone’s here to see you.” His assistant enters the room with haste, making Minho raise an eyebrow.

No one should know of this location, so he is taken aback for a few short moments, before clearing his throat and deciding that he must know who found him, and why.

“Show them in.” Minho instructs, and his assistant rushes outside.

Damn, this fucking white light. He groans again and decides to end his suffering and simply turn on the lamp on his desk, even though he forgot his glasses God knows where and he can barely see the papers in front of him.

Moments later, his assistant comes back with a woman small in stature. She has blonde, wavy hair reaching her shoulders, and her eyes are a deep shade of emerald green.

She is intimidated, Minho observes, as he sees the way this woman is trembling in front of him, anxiously playing with her fingers and looking left and right just to not look him in the eyes.

“Take a seat.” He orders, and the girl is quick to sit down in the chair he offered on the other side of his desk.

“Thank you…” She says, her voice so small, it almost comes out in a whisper.

“Now, who might you be?” Minho asks confidently, his tone slightly bored, although he’s actually brimming with curiosity.

“Uhm… my name is Soo-ah. Kim Soo-ah.” She replies hesitantly, and Minho immediately looks at the papers on his desk and grabs her picture, and oh, what a pleasant surprise.

It’s not every day that the prey comes directly to your doorstep.

“Are you perhaps… Lee Know? And if not… could you please take me to him?” She asks, and Minho raises his eyebrow again.

He notices her clutching her bag tightly. She is quite literally trembling with fear, which makes him want to laugh. She is so painfully afraid of being in the same room as him, he can’t help but want to play with her.

“That would be me.” He replies with a cocky smirk. “Why did you want to see me, pretty?”

“I… uhm… if I understood your… profession… correctly, that must mean you are a… hitman of some sort?” She tries to thread carefully, and Minho can’t help himself anymore. He lets out a chuckle at this girl’s innocence.

“You are correct, doll. So, what brings you here?”

“I need your help. There’s someone I’d like you to… uhm… to k- to kill. I-I have money to pay you. Uhm…” She stutters and starts rummaging through her bag, pulling out a few stacks of rolled hundreds. “I’m not sure how much your services cost, but…”

“How much is in there?” He asks, his eyes sparkling with excitement. The rolls are far too small, and too few. It can’t be more than a couple thousands, if that.

“Around $3000. It’s not much, but… it’s all I’ve managed to save up so far. If it costs more, I could get a loan, or-”

“$3000?” Minho cuts her off with a laugh. “You can’t be serious!”

The woman’s expression falls, her eyebrows furrowing in a frown.

“Pretty, that much isn’t enough for me to even cut off someone’s finger, let alone kill a whole person.”

“Oh… how much would it be, then?”

“That depends. Who’s the target?”

“My boss…” She clutches the bag tighter, telling him his name and address. Of course, he expected it to be his client, so this doesn’t really surprise him.

“Oh, love.” Minho chuckles again. “That man is one of the most powerful in the country, you must know since you’re working for him. Taking him out would cost millions. You wouldn’t afford it in this lifetime.”

Soo-ah looks away.

“Why don’t you tell me why you want this man dead?”

“I think he’s planning to get rid of me… Actually, I’m sure of it.”

“Why?” Minho inquires further.

“I… I saw something I shouldn’t have.” She replies, clenching her fists.

“Be more explicit, doll.” He says, and Soo-ah shifts in her seat uncomfortably. By her mannerisms, Minho can tell she finds this hard to talk about, or she doesn’t know if she should tell him at all.

She hesitates for a few more moments until she eventually starts speaking again.

“I am a live-in maid… I woke up to go to the bathroom and his room is on the way… the door was opened, and there were some very influential people and a large stack of cash on top of his desk. They saw me, so I ran away and hid. There was this other maid that told me about something she’s seen, and one day, she simply disappeared, so I was scared… I think that's what's going to happen to me too.”

“I see.” Minho nods. “Wrong place wrong time, huh?”

“Yeah…”

“So, how did you find me?”

“Much like last night, I went to the bathroom a few months ago and overheard a conversation-

“Damn, you should really stop going to the bathroom at night.” Minho jokes, cutting her off. She doesn’t seem too amused and resumes immediately.

“I overheard a conversation about hitmen, and my boss told someone a couple of names and addresses.”

“My name? What exactly did he say?”

“Yes. Your name and many others. Lee Know, Hwang, Yongbok…”

“Alright. And this address?”

“Yes. This is the only one I could remember… Considering this… topic… I didn’t really want to hear much else or risk him catching me overhear anything I shouldn’t, so I ran back to my room.” Soo-ah nods, and Minho leans back in his chair.

They found out where he is, which is bad news. Of course, he has many other secret hideouts throughout the city in case something like this would happen, but still. The fact that he didn’t know about it is dangerous. And apparently, this man also has some sort of information about his associates.

This is bad news.

The most relevant thing in his profession is secrecy. If anyone would know where to find him, he would’ve been dead long ago.

“Thank you, Soo-ah. That’s great information you offered me right there. However, just for future reference, information is not free. You just missed out on your chance to negotiate with me.” He chuckles menacingly, and her expression only falls more.

She doesn’t know what to say, but noticing Minho’s piercing gaze on hers, she decides to look him right in the eyes and do something she never thought she would.

She stands up and walks slowly around the desk, his eyes fixed on her, and she kneels in front of him, beginning to tear up.

“Please. I’m begging you. Please help me. I’ll do anything. I… I don’t want to die… I’m so scared, Mister Lee Know. Please.”

Minho is taken aback, and something in his heart stirs at the sight.

Memories he’s long-ago repressed start surfacing back, and instead of seeing her kneeling in front of him, he sees a young boy with bruises all over his body begging for his life.

~

“Mister, please. I’ll do anything. Please help me! I’m begging you, please! I want to live!” Minho was barely able to get out between his tears, his forehead pressing against the cold, bloodied tiles.

“And why would I help you, kid?” The man in front of him laughed. “You’re young and stupid. You’re good for nothing. What can you give me?”

“Anything! I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” The man laughed one more. “Will you kill someone for me, then?”

“K-kill? Mister…”

“If you’re not ready to lead such a life, you have no use to me, kid. You’re better off dead.”

“N-no! I will! I will kill! Please teach me what to do, Mister! I will do it!”

“What an obedient child.” The man cackled. “You know what, kiddo? I admire your fighting spirit. Even though life dealt you shitty hands, you still want to live?”

“I do! I want to live, so please…”

“Get up. From now on, your name will be Lee Know. And Lee Know, your first lesson is to never kneel in front of anyone, no matter the reason. That’s how we do things around here. Got it?”

~

“What can you give me, Soo-ah?” He asks, but this time, his voice doesn’t come off amused or menacing. It’s soft and filled with slight concern, and more than anything, with curiosity.

“Anything. I will do anything…” She cries.

“Anything?” Minho asks, and it’s such a contrast to how his former boss treated him. He is not being unnecessarily mean about it, and he is not forcing an answer out of her, although their circumstances are much the same.

He stands up and walks towards her, noticing how bad she’s still shaking.

He knows she’s desperate. However… how desperate is she, really? She’s been trembling ever since she came through the door. It’s clear to him that she doesn’t have it in her to ever be a killer. But still, would she give up her principles to stay alive, or will she stick to them?

He didn’t have the power to stick to his principles on that cursed day way too many years ago, and his whole life changed afterwards. He could never back down.

Would she do the same?

“Anything.” She replies determined, still looking at the floor.

“Will you kill someone for me, then?” Minho asks closing his eyes, his former boss’ words ringing in his head.

“K-kill?” Soo-ah shakes. It’s so difficult to see his past self in this trembling woman.

“If you’re not ready to lead such a life, you have no use to me, Soo-ah. You’re better off dead.”

The words are burning his tongue as he notices all the air disappear from the woman’s lungs.

She begins crying even louder, her hands moving on top of his shoes, holding tightly. Still, she is still not looking up at him.

“I… I can’t. I can’t… I can’t kill anyone. Please understand. I can’t…” She keeps repeating like a broken record, and Minho’s eyes widen.

She decided to stick to her principles, after all. She is better than him.

“Then-” He starts, but she immediately cuts him off.

“He will kill me. I’m so scared… I’m so scared of him, Mister. What can I do if you won’t help me? What if he’ll torture me to find out exactly how much I heard and if I told anyone else? Fuck, what do I do now? My life must be worth at least $3000. Please… please help me…” She speaks weakly, clutching his shoes tighter.

“Soo-ah, look at me.” He requests, but she just keeps shaking and crying.

Minho grabs her arms and helps her stand up, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

“Do you really want to live?” He asks, and she nods her head rapidly.

“I do. I want to live.” She cries.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully. I can’t let Kim Soo-ah live.”

“What?” She blinks, confused for a short moment, until it clicks. “Did… did my boss ask you to kill me?”

“He did. I received your file just this morning.” Minho smiles softly, his eyes filled with sadness.

“Then… I guess this is it for me. I was… I was a fool to come here. I thought… I thought I still had a chance…” She replies dejected. “Months ago, when I heard those names, I didn’t think much of it. However, today… I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I ended up coming here and hoped that maybe, just maybe… if I were to randomly pick one of those names...” She stops speaking, wiping away her tears from her cheeks.

“How did you remember my name and address, though? If it was months ago…”

“My memory is pretty good. Not that it matters anymore.” She smiles sadly and averts her gaze. “I came to the wrong person. It’s alright. It’s… If there’s no other way, will you at least make it quick, Mister? I don’t want it to hurt…”

“Soo-ah.” He places his hands on her shoulders, making her look at him again. “I said, I can’t let Kim Soo-ah live. We’re going to kill her tonight, do you understand?”

“I’m… not sure I do.” She tilts her head.

“From this moment forwards, Kim Soo-ah is dead. You will have to change your hair and your eye colour, and I will give you a new name… What about… Lee Saera?” He suggests after thinking for a few moments, his eyes rolling up.

“Lee… Saera?”

“Mhm. Isn’t it pretty?”

“I like it… but… why? Why are you helping me?” She asks, confusion lacing her tone. “Why are you helping me when you’ve been ordered to kill me?”

“Pretty, no one can order me to do anything.” He chuckles. “I was hired to kill you. But let’s just say… there’s something of me I found in you. Something long forgotten…” Minho replies, separating himself from her and putting his hands in his pockets. “I can’t kill your boss, but I can make sure he believes you’re dead, and in return… you will tell me everything you know about him, and everything he knows about us. You will stay here and help me.”

“Mister Lee Know, I can’t… I can’t kill people.” She whispers with a frown.

“And you won’t. You won’t walk down this path. I will do the killing, and you will do everything else I ask you to, in exchange for your life. How does that sound?”

He extends a hand towards her, and she doesn’t hesitate to grab it with both her hands and shake it.

“Thank you, Mister Lee Know. Thank you. Truly.” She looks him in the eyes, and Minho can tell she’s genuinely grateful. A small thought passed through his head that she could be a spy, but her feelings seem so genuine, he doesn’t doubt her one bit. She is just an unfortunate, young woman, who happened to work for the wrong people and heard and saw too much.

“Minho… Call me Minho, Soo-ah.”

“Minho?”

“Mhm. That’s my real name. Lee Minho. Use it only when we’re alone, and I will call you Kim Soo-ah. When anyone else is present, though, you are Saera and I am Lee Know, got it?”

“Yes, sir.” She nods.

“Good girl.” He smiles and pats her head two times. “Now, the first lesson you must learn if you are to join me, is… never kneel in front of anyone, no matter the reason. Not even me. Got it?”

“Okay... But Minho… how will you make my boss think I died?”

“Oh, right.” He sighs, grabbing her hand and dragging his fingers on top of her silver ring, taking it off and looking at the small mole underneath. “Soo-ah, your boss asked me to give him your finger as proof of killing you.”

“My… my finger?” She immediately snatches her hand back and looks at how closely Minho is examining her ring.

“Mhm. However…” Since she is now one of his people, he doesn’t want to hurt her. Not even a scratch. He doesn’t tell her that, though, because he doesn’t think he’ll have a choice.

How should he navigate this? Should he try and find a body with a matching mole? But what if they were to run any DNA tests?

“My ring… is a family heirloom. It’s extremely precious to me.” She speaks, interrupting his train of thoughts. “What if we would burn something and put the ring in the ashes as proof?”

“Oh?” Minho raises an eyebrow. “But what would we tell him to be convincing enough?”

“You found me hiding somewhere, and… I don’t know. You killed me, took my body to be incinerated to remove evidence, but almost got caught, so you burned it and brought back the ashes as proof?”

“I’m not sure that’ll fly with this guy, Soo-ah…”

“Then…” She raises her hand hesitantly in the air, and Minho sees how much she’s trembling. “Cut it… cut it off. It’s okay. It’ll hurt, but I’ll be alive, so…”

He shakes his head. He truly doesn’t want to hurt this woman for some reason. She doesn’t deserve to be hurt like this, not by him, not by anyone.

Still, there’s nothing he can do. Her former boss is a ruthless man, and he won’t believe him one bit if he were to just bring him her ring. He needs more proof than that.

“Soo-ah, will you forgive me if I hurt you deliberately?” He asks after a little while.

“Yes.” She answers without missing a beat. “You spared my life. You can cut it off, Minho. I will survive this.”

Despite her determined words, Minho knows she is just putting on a façade. She is scared, she is shaking, and he feels so bad. He’s never felt like this before, no matter who he had to kill. However, the prospect of causing this woman any sort of physical pain makes him feel terrible. He doesn’t want to do it, but if he is to prove he’s killed her, he must hurt her.

Minho grabs his phone from the desk and calls his assistant to bring in the doctor, and after ending the call, he grabs her hand and holds onto it tightly for a moment.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” He speaks softly as he pulls out a knife from his pocket.

Her whole body is shaking, and she shuts her eyes tight.

“I won’t cut off your whole finger. I’ll only cut off enough skin to use as proof, and I’ll take your ring. Alright?”

“... Yes.” She whispers, anticipating the impending pain.

Minho takes in a deep breath as he presses the blade into her skin, listening closely to Soo-ah’s sounds. She places her other hand on top of her mouth and tries to be as quiet as possible as the blade rips through her skin.

She fights the urge to jerk her hand back, not that it would be possible with Minho’s strong hold of her wrist and finger.

“There. We’re done.” He speaks hurriedly as he grabs a clean cloth and covers her hand, pressing tightly on the wound. “The doctor will be here soon. Are you alright?”

“It hurts so bad.” She cries out in pain and Minho pulls her closer, hugging her tightly.

“It hurts, I know. But you are alive, and that’s all that matters. You are alive.”

“I am alive.” She repeats and hugs him back, and she can’t believe that so much could happen to her in a span of a day.

She wishes she would’ve never applied to that job. She wishes she would’ve never worked for that terrible man, but she got blinded by the large sum of money he offered, and she took the offer without any further thoughts on the matter, and she truly regrets it now. She always seems to only make bad choices.

The doctor comes in and cleans the wound, informing both of them that thankfully, it’s not large enough to require a skin graft. He is able to stitch it shut, although he informs Soo-ah that it will inevitably scar.

A scar is a small price to pay for her life, she thinks.

Left alone once more with Minho, she doesn’t know what to do. She stays silent and tries her hardest to stop crying and observes as he begins clearing off his desk.

“Soo-ah, you can sit down until I’m done.” He informs her, so she nods and heads back to the chair she sat in previously.

“What are you doing?” She asks after a little while.

“We need to go. This place is no longer safe, since your boss knows about it. I will also need to call my associates and let them know they should relocate.”

“And then… what?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“What will happen to me?”

“I told you, haven’t I? We’ll get you a fake ID, change your appearance completely, and then… we’ll see. I still need to think about which tasks to give you, since you’re so…” Minho looks at her and stops, making her raise her eyebrows in surprise.

“I’m so… what?” She tilts her head to the side.

“So… righteous and innocent. I don’t even know what to do with you. You seem like you’d tremble and cry at the slightest mention of a murder.” He replies, and as if on cue, a shiver runs down her spine at the thought of potentially seeing a dead body, and she shakes.

“I’m sorry, I…”

“Don’t apologise for being this way, Soo-ah. There’s nothing wrong with you.” He sighs. There really isn’t. Not everyone is made for this life, and he knows it. But unfortunately, some good people are forced into living like this, and she is one of them.

“I’ll do my best to not inconvenience you…”

“You can do some housework or… I don’t know. We’ll see.”

“Or… as I told you, my memory is pretty good. If you’re stumped with work and have too many documents to check, or information about anyone… I can read all of them for you and just summarize. I will certainly remember everything.” She suggests, and Minho smiles softly.

“That's good to know. But for now, let’s just get out of here, hm? We’ll see what tomorrow brings.”

“Alright.” She nods and smiles back. "Once we go to the new hideout... you should get some rest, Minho."

"Hm?"

"You seem tired... like you haven't slept in a while." She says, and Minho can't help but smile. She is observant.

"Alright. I'll make sure to sleep once we leave this place." He replies, and she smiles satisfied.

Soo-ah is glad that coming to him ended up being the good choice – the only good choice she’s ever made, she believes. She wonders how she could trust him so much in such a short amount of time.

Still, she trusts him, and he seems to trust her too, and she is alive. That’s all that matters.

~The End~

[edennill]

🔥+ Bilbo Baggins? Or, if you'd rather have a Silmarillion character, 🔥+ Turgon?

Hmmm... indeed, I don't think I have anything about Bilbo, although there probably are a few non-Silm characters I'd manage (the closest I could come up for him is that I seem to be an outlier in that, without hating them, I prefer Men and Elves to Hobbits, even in Lotr, but I doubt anyone specifically asking for Bilbo is actually looking for that take). So, Turgon it is.

I... dearly hope most of my answers here will not end up being basically "nuance!", but I will say that I think he and Maeglin can have a complicated relationship before the Fall of Gondolin without it really being the fault of either — this fandom is doing a very good job with showing the awful circumstances Maeglin was thrust in, but from Thingol's point of view, this isn't an easy situation to handle either (if the whole of it is nowhere near as hard, Maeglin's life has just so far been so messed-up, it's useless to make comparisons). Imagine, if you will: your darling, strong-headed, wild, sister disappeared decades ago, and now she returns, as if from the dead, with a son. You ready yourself to welcome them with open arms and then suddenly an intruder arrives (he says he's her husband and she confirms it) and he kills your sister just when you've recovered her, and now you're left arranging a funeral with a nephew you've never met, a nephew you want to love so badly, for your (dead!) sister and for his own sake, who is damaged and who doesn't understand your attempts to show it, and you don't understand his overtures to you, and he doesn't get along with your daughter and vice versa for some reason. All I'm saying is — it would, I think, take incredible luck, understanding or psychological training, not make blunders at this point.

On the other hand, he did kill Ëol, and I like him, but I don't think he should have killed Ëol — I am hard pressed to come up with an idea for how he was supposed to have handled it, but not thus. I am honestly slightly amiss how to interpret the whole situation, became it seems like one of the cases where Jirt straight up forgot he was mashing up narrative and historical/ahistorical paradigms — in most pre-modern monarchies, killing the King's sister is definitely going to end badly for you, and that's a standard consequence, but elves aren't supposed to deal out death so lightly, and I don't feel Tolkien was supportive of executions outside that semi-norse/whichever paradigm either.

That said, I don't think it's entirely certain that Maeglin took Ëol's death nearly as hard as some fans make it out to be — in so far as we're explicitly told, it was concerning to some how stoic he seemed, and I don't know if he would have been afraid of Turgon after — though I can see how his father might have managed to land one last hit on him with his curse.

***

Send me 🔥 + a character or theme or place or whatever, and I'll reply with a hot take about them.

[cherryfinolahobbes]

Ooc

I need to gush here because I just started Sanctuary I. Netflix’s I’m like on season two so no spoilers please.

But I have to say that I am INVESTED in Oze. I generally dislike when characters are asshole or “too cool for school” and it isn’t until like halfway through we get the tragic backstory because by that time I just hate them.

Fuck, I love that right away we get the backstory, we get the struggle, we see him trying so hard not care and then see how deeply he cares. The relationship with his father, the young woman, I rarely have shows give me this many feels right off the bat.

It’s really given me ideas on how to portray that grumpy, bad boy, sulky type. While I’m sad this is only 8 episodes long, I can’t believe how much has been packed into what I’ve seen.

[ccbatman]

actually so evil how much of hal's internal world gets obliterated with the rewriting of his relationships with jessica and martin.

[monster-noises]

Hmm Had a Zine idea last night that would involve only curatorial work from me (with... maybe some minimal illustration) where I go through all my old art and files and compile like.. a Tome of Lost Stories that describes and summarizes all the comics and story ideas and characters I've had over the years cause there's a Lot, and it would feel nice, I think, to give them more of a proper send off than the sort of weird decent into obscurity they all kinda Got. Depending on the scope of the project and the available material I have in my Files I would write out a brief description of the plot and list the characters and maybe some of my thoughts Now on the project along side the original sketches and illustrations, and maybe for the bigger projects that I Feel Some Kinda Feeling About I'd draw something new, like a cover or a poster type thing... I don't know if anyone but me would be interested in seeing that compiled at All, but i think it would make me feel Good and would be Largely Achievable, as a Concept....

[townslore]

discovery of the day

[imflyingfish]

.

[softquietsteadylove]

The Mermaid AU!!! Damn, it's wonderful! So Thena haven't tried walking with human feet, so how about she's trying it and Gil helping her? She's stumbling and let's give them their first kiss your honor🫡

I would also like to see Thena being so curious with human things like how things work and maybe her being jealous? I can really imagine her hissing with her fangs on someone hitting on Gil🤣 and ladies be like, uhh Mister is your wife normal? Does she often do that?

"No, that's it, you got it!" Gil encouraged Thena's every step, leaping forward to catch her when she stumbled. "Whoa!"

Thena grumbled into his chest, allowing him to help her stand straight again. "You do this all the time?--it seems exhausting."

Gil chuckled, letting her lock her knees again and resume walking practice. "That's how we feel about swimming."

Thena's jaw dropped, giving him a truly aghast expression.

He nodded though, taking one step back for every step she took forward. "It's hard work to swim with legs. You have to be strong to be any good at it."

"Poor creatures," she murmured as she watched her feet move through the sand of his little beach. He had insisted that sand was a little harder to walk on than most terrain, but at least it would be soft if she did end up falling without him there to catch her.

He needn't have worried; he had been there for her every step since the first.

She had been coming to see him more and more regularly. And with regular time spent in his presence, came her observation of his human traits--including his legs. Until one morning he came out to greet her and found her wobbling around in the shallow water, two pale legs under her.

"I know, we're a sad bunch," Gil laughed. His feet hit the pebbly beginnings of the forest floor closer to his cabin. He looked down, "hey, we made it all the way up the beach!"

Thena beamed, all but throwing herself up the last stretch and into his waiting embrace. She had been working on being able to walk without his assistance for a few weeks, by this point.

"You did it!" Gil swung Thena around in his arms a few times. He kept his arms around her waist, wrinkling the shirt of his she was wearing.

Thena swung her feet faintly within his embrace, tilting her head at him for still holding her aloft.

"Uh, why don't you let me carry you to the house?" he suggested, shifting her in his arms so he could hold her more properly around the shoulders and knees. "Sand is nice and soft, but the bottoms of feet are pretty sensitive. I wouldn't want you to get hurt walking on the rocks and roots and stuff. Plus it's dirty."

Thena had no real protests, even if she wasn't entirely sure what he was talking about. She let him carry her from the top of the beach into his cabin, which she had seen once or twice already by now. It was a lovely home, and she had come to enjoy noticing the little details about it, like where he stored the things he used often, and how the wood of places he touched looked different from others.

"Well, now that you've walked a whole beach, maybe we should get you some shoes," Gil smiled at her as he got them inside. "That will help to keep your feet safe."

"Would I be able to walk more places then?" Thena asked as he set her down at a kitchen chair.

"Uh," he paused, turning and reaching to put a pot of water on his boiler (a stove, rather). "Maybe, yeah...just not anywhere too crowded."

Thena tilted her head a few times at him, "do I not seem human enough?"

He let the flame sit low and sat in the chair at an angle to hers. His legs were longer, and his knees bent more sharply than hers. And his pants - jeans, rather - looked rough to the touch. "You seem very human, Thena. But I just...would worry about it."

"Worry about me?" she asked a little more directly, deciding she had no need for him to hide his words from her.

"Not really," he sighed. "About the humans around, more so."

"What would worry you about them?" Thena tilted her head in the other direction.

Gil considered what to say, scratching his facial hair as he did. Thena watched him do it; she wondered what it felt like to touch. "Humans are...can be...nice."

"Like you."

He paused in his explanation to give her one of his very warm, very inviting smiles. She had never seen a human smile quite like Gilgamesh. "I guess so. But they can be less nice, too, Thena. And if anyone figured out what you are, or even thought too much into it, I wouldn't know how to protect you."

Thena nodded, looking down at her legs (lap, rather). Just because she could walk around like a human didn't mean she was one, and all it would take would be one human to ensure she never saw water again.

"I'm not saying we'll never explore more places, okay?" Gil said gently, reaching over to take her hand in his. She stared at it, wondering what the point of the gesture was. She wasn't complaining, though. "Just give it a little longer?--for me?"

"For you?" she asked.

Gil blushed, which she had learned from a few of his anatomy books was something that happened when humans felt flustered. "Well, I'm hoping you'll do this especially because I'm asking you to, I guess. It can be a way to ask something of someone you're close with."

Close: that was a good word for it. Thena looked down at his hand around hers. He was so warm, and even with her blood running a little warmer than normal with her legs and using just her lungs, he was still much warmer than she was. It was nice, though.

But she knew how warm he was from when he would lift her out of the water and up into his embrace.

Gil's head whipped to the door as someone knocked.

Thena tilted her head. "How did they get here?"

Gil stood from the chair, pulling Thena up to her feet. "I think it's a friend. I called her for some stuff. But just wait until I make sure it's safe, okay?"

It wasn't as if she really got a choice about it. Thena let him guide her to sit on the stairs just on the other side of the kitchen wall, out of the light of the large windows above his sink.

"Just for a minute, Angelfish," he promised, giving her hands a squeeze between his before going to the door.

Thena watched the shadows stretching over the floor.

"Sersi, hey--thanks for coming."

"Of course."

Thena tilted her head at the soft, silken voice floating to her ears. She watched the shadows move closer and then collide, melding into one. She slid down a step, leaning to peek around the corner.

Gil released the woman from a loose embrace, patting her shoulder. "I know it's not easy to get out here, but it's just not safe to go to land considering-"

"Of course," the woman shook her head, pushing a springy lock of black hair away from her delicately featured face. She was quite pretty. "I understand. Can I...?"

Gil glanced over his shoulder, hands on his hips, his fingers tapping against his belt. "I-I don't know, Sersi."

"Oh, please, Gil?" she looked at him with wide, doe-brown eyes. They were warm, just like Gil's. "If what you told me is true-"

"It is," he huffed at her, crossing his massive arms in her direction.

Thena peeked out a little further.

"Then this could be the discovery of a lifetime!--a generation!" the woman bounced in her excitement. She was effervescent and personable, also like Gilgamesh. Who was this person?

"Exactly why I can't trust anyone to keep her secret," he lowered his voice.

Thena watched as he lowered his head closer to this mystery woman's, saying something so soft that Thena struggled to pick out the words. She leaned further, trying to see if she could read his lips at least.

Sersi gasped as Thena toppled over, stumbling out from the staircase just outside the kitchen. "Oh my-"

"Thena!" Gil rushed to her, already bending to pull her into his arms.

Thena squirmed in his embrace as he muttered something about 'patience' against her hair. She kept the woman in her sights, though, determined to learn more about her. "Hello."

"H-Hi," she replied in such a soft, fluttery tone. She gulped, her lashes fluttering as she dared to walk a little closer to her. "I'm Sersi. A-And you must be Thena."

She looked at Gil. "I thought you said no one could know about me."

Gil blinked, maybe having not expected her to be so annoyed about the current situation. He tightened his arms around her, "w-well, no. But Sersi is a marine biologist. I had questions--a-and she brought stuff for you!"

"It's true!" Sersi leapt to join the argument in Gil's favour. She adjusted the bag on her shoulder. "He asked for some clothes and things that might, um, fit you."

Thena looked down at the shirt of his she was wearing, "what's wrong with this?"

"It's-"

"Thena," Sersi stepped forward again, holding out a hand.

Thena hissed at her.

"Thena, hey, it's okay," Gil whispered, trying keep her contained in his arms. "I promise, I trust Sersi. She's here to help us."

"It's okay," Sersi said gently, setting the bag down and tilting her head at Thena. "I don't blame you for being cautious of me. I can't imagine how much you've had to adjust to."

Thena tilted her head right back at her, although Sersi matched each of her movements. Thena blinked at her. "Who are you?"

"I'm Gil's sister."

Oh. Thena halted, her breath getting caught in her throat. She was...that explained some of her observations rather conveniently. She felt heat build in her cheeks; this was what blushing felt like. "I see."

"I am a marine biologist, as he said," Sersi continued, maybe oblivious to Thena's discomfort, or at least the reasons behind it. "He asked me some questions about a 'discovery' he'd made a few months back. As time went on, I had to ask more things about this secret of his in order to research and answer him. Eventually we determined that I could know a little more about--well, you."

Thena just nodded, still feeling a little stunned at the presence of the second human she had ever met properly. Gil was still holding her tightly, and she realised part of it was how stiff and coiled she was. She let out a breath, unwinding her muscles and relaxing.

Gil loosened his hold on her, although he didn't step away from her at all.

Thena met Sersi's eyes, trying to push down the twisting feeling that had consumed her just a moment ago. "I have a brother as well."

"Really?" both humans asked with equal surprise.

"Yes," Thena looked at both of them before landing on Sersi. "Although he's not nearly as nice as Gil is."

Sersi laughed, and Thena had to admit that even their laughs were similar. Sersi's was much lighter and gentler, but it had the same from-the-heart warmth to it. "I can't even argue with that. Gil has been quite a nice brother to me."

"Yeah, I'd hope you can't argue," he huffed at her, putting his hands on his hips again.

"No one's perfect, though," Sersi finished, turning her nose up at him. She looked at Thena again. "Can your brother split his tail as well?"

She had taken care to learn the words for things, too. Thena couldn't fault her on anything. "No, he's never come anywhere near humans. He doesn't trust them."

"I can't blame him for that either," Sersi offered a remorseful smile and a shrug of her shoulders. "You just got lucky and found a good one, I think."

"Yes," Thena smiled at Gil, who was back to blushing shyly at the open praise of his character. "I suppose I did."

[unproduciblesmackdown]

as "let's see if will roland's birthday prompts any billions production clues from posts castmates may make about it" continues to yield "no one's posting about it, while some castmates post about other people's birthdays," already having more thoughts abt [i'm sure he'll show up in at least one episode even if only to be written out] type things like:

a) would be insulting if winston is fired to serve a subplot about philip and taylor having some difficulty in finding their footing re: working together as coheads, like, we're good at anticassandraing things and have gone "lol what if philip & taylor disagreed abt quants in that philip preferred winston. which he feasibly could," so what if instead it's philip arguing that winston should be fired to streamline things or because everyone who's not taylor will want him gone b/c they dislike him, and in learning how to successfully work together, taylor's like well alright. like, don't pit these elements against each other the insult is instead just Anyone, higher ups or lower downs, wanting winston gone b/c they dislike him, so he's fired

b) winston getting bullied by anyone or everyone is seen as him distracting them &/or provoking it with his presence, so he's fired winston being friends w/tuk is seen as a bad influence of loserdom on the latter (or distraction, or annoying, or w/e) so he's fired some Problem that needs solving or otherwise some need to fire Some people that really doesn't have much to do with him gets him fired anyways. like 5x05 all over again, isn't it always. or even if he's particularly involved in some problem you know it'd be something other people could get away with just fine. see:

c) what's even "a problem" like that despite everyone being in a hostile workplace, winston is especially, and we're so graced with dollar bill back on the premises who has already harassed and threatened and assaulted him (not only limiting the lattermost to something like "did he hit you, and like, closed fist, and i mean pretty hard. well that's just what he's like, you're fine." or the way like sabotaging a toilet is just epic pranks and only a problem if something looks bad to theoretical investors and we should talk about what tmc people might be doing to deserve it) while rian has been holding down the fort bullying and using winston. perfectly in line with everything if this kind of thing prompting any hostility in turn is like, nobody blinks at the other stuff, wherein if anything everyone keeps trying to fix dollar bill's feelings for him and talk about how who he's being awful to needs to appease him asap, and rian simply Wanting to use winston as a chew toy is just taken in stride while separately people have already been motivated by theoretically looking out for her / supporting her in various ways as well. whereas if winston Acts like he regards her as a hostile party, which she is, rather than seeming to operate in good faith that they can have regular constructive basic respect interactions, which he does while those decent interactions seem to come through rarely and unreliably, then i'm sure he'd be seen as mean / starting shit / out of line / etc, especially when it seems him Disrespecting the Rules & Social Hierarchy that should disallow him from like, speaking unless it's to self-flagellate, means people see him as aggressive or whatever. basically the classic scenario like, kid's bullied at school, they're supposed to just ignore it or it's otherwise "not that bad" / stuff gotten away with, even if supposedly it's like well just tell an authority figure here, that won't/doesn't work, any resulting obvious tension/dislike between the kid and whoever is like "uh oh, a Both Sides problem" at best, same if there's a physical fight or something or else it's like well That was unacceptable and if it was initiated by Your reaction to all other kinds of terrible treatment for however long, you're the problem. not that i expect winston to throw a punch about it, but, figuratively / parallel to this scenario

d) winston is sick of his deluxe hostile environment, doesn't actually like whatever coheading changes, sick of rian and/or dollar bill specifically, and/or doesn't appreciate some other goings-on, like one that results in him even being threatened with firing, and gets to just quit as has regularly seemed like something he might want to do anyways since 4x11 and intermittently on

e) not really another Way to imagine they kick him out but was thinking how like, Is a reason we're shown that taylor and rian hugging in the middle of an office was seen by i guess winston alone gonna be further relevant at all and about him making anything of it, which, he really couldn't possibly be wrong about any inferences. but going :/ at the taylor and rian dynamic just as a spontaneous, contained event would be self-explanatory too. but had the thought of like, maybe it's all "well taylor's been here 5 seasons and is in a more prominent position than last season, throw a PR problem at them for the first time for real, just as a shakeup / something that throws them off" wherein like winston wouldn't even have to be there to be cited in something like yeah i was fired or quit or whatever else and my former boss is dating an employee i think. or seems to have a real personal preference for them if not personal somethingship. which is true lmfao like? even if winston ""wrongly"" assumes they're dating like "oh sorry these claims are ridiculous, i only proposed as much to this employee who i already was informally mentoring and do favor such that she was promoted offscreen after like half a season to be able to make trades and this only came up when her using that capacity to do some shit she could've been fired for had me like 'but i'll take the heat for it' b/c any feeling that i'd wanna fire you is worth working through as a personal problem, and that employee turned me down not only just b/c apparently dating through work is too much (but not hooking up through work) but because she's afraid of how much she could love me, and now we're further personal somethings or who even knows what's ever been going on and so who can say if we were supposed to have fully closed the door on dating or not, even." wherein like....someone then doing further research consulting with every named tmc employee, in this hypothetical (and ignoring any hypothetical new, named/dialogued hires) scenario all now Former employees except rian who clearly won't have been firedor quit at the start of season 7, b/c yknow god forbid lmao....like, oh i'm taylor's best friend so no comment except that when i'm mad at them i'll apparently say that i always thought they inhumanly don't have feelings and all, very helpful. then there's like, oh yeah i was taylor's employee and dated them until business misalignments lead to a less than ideal breakup, and then kind of an aftershock of that for fun i guess. and then yeah i was also taylor's employee and knew they were dating another employee and i disapproved if only b/c i told them it could look bad but then also one of the reasons leading up to my quitting was having difficulty getting in touch with them while the other employee lived with them at least part of the time and i didn't seem to be a fan of that bonus access re: discussing business getting in the way of the formal structure / chain of command or whatever at work as well which is part of what i was already there to file a complaint over, so....even just the "it does look bad / people do think you leverage status for access to sex through employees" like no but that's My boss though. but also just that yeah taylor has at least tried to date employees twice, and their personal preference does affect professional matters, though that's also just like, pick any place of work and any slice of it, may not be a meritocracy after all versus how much it matters that some people are popular and/or liked by the right people while others can be recognized as Good Employees on paper but be left where they are or antagonized by peers or higher ups b/c of "failing" at the popularity contest aspect. and this could just be some new Kind of problem for taylor, and/or their just having to question themself more. or else go "ugh leave it to winston" and shrug it off once whatever's smoothed over.

f) winston isn't fully written off but rather it's something zany like, the twist is dollar bill coming back (god forbid he didn't either) while mafee, who evidently sees taylor outside work despite it all, is like eh we'll get dinners sometimes too, and does not likewise return despite saying he's the one who'd consider it. winston, being fired, or having quit, or just being unhappy w/things enough to consider it, is like well you're kind of regular at me sometimes and can't yell at me abt loyalty to taylor if neither of us work for them and you have weird confusing ideas about how they should be loyal to you if anything, and i can do the work of 50 phds, and i know you don't know shit abt the math and quanting but if you just leave it up to me entirely, that's pretty much been my work experience thus far anyways. then he'd be filming on different sets, possibly more rarely, and also dan soder has been likewise elusive but is also on site on the two even vaguely or implicitly [s7 production] related pics will's turned up in.

g) idk billions feel free to prank us where once again between seasons we worry winston could be written off but then he isn't, but elusivity paired with suddenly now castmates w/no mention of him for [march 5th] and [we are doing any bday acknowledgments] overlaps that otherwise get posts, especially. weird even if he Was written out in ep one but okay then

[minglana]

my dad completely seriously proposed me going to back to the US when i finish uni...... oh my god😭

[churipu]

YOU SLEEPING ON A COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader

note. i hv so many ideas right now apart from what i'm actually supposed to be focusing on, so...pls excuse me.

GOJO SATORU. arguments with gojo are a pain in the ass, he's petty and everything will be a mess. he's so stubborn that it actually baffles you sometimes — and he calls you rock head?

being a sorcerer is never an easy job. gojo wakes up every day, not knowing whether he'd die in a mission or get to live another day. so when you brought up your concerns about it to him, the male didn't take it lightly. things have been tight for him, and you're walking on eggshells for the past few days.

the slightest thing angered him, like how his sleeve got stuck on the door handle, or the way he curses out loudly when he stubs his toe on the coffee table. it puts him in a shitty mood, so when that happens, and you try to talk to him about his job.

gojo gets very pissy about it.

frankly, you understood where his anger comes from. and it was part of your fault to bother him the moment he came back from work exhausted, it was bound to happen so you weren't really blaming him at all from the projecting of his anger to you the night before — he didn't say hurtful things, gojo knew better than that. all he did was tell you to leave him alone and get out of his sight for the night.

and you did. sleeping alone on the couch, all sprawled out, an arm dangling on the edge; while a string of drool dribbled down the corner of your lips.

you seemed to not mind having to sleep on the couch (under your own want). but your boyfriend did, the moment he knew your bed time strikes — he came out of the room and eyed your sleeping form. guilt washing over him when all you did was care about his being and how dangerous the jujutsu world is.

gojo approaches you and gently carried you in his arms, an arm right under your bottom and his other arm around your waist. hoisting you up like a baby as your cheek leaned onto his shoulder, letting the drool blotch his shirt. he doesn't care at all.

the male tucks you in the bed, pulling the covers over you before slipping next to you, chest pressed to your back and an arm resting on your hip. gojo will never let you sleep a whole night on the couch, he will bring you to sleep with him and apologize the very next day for being such an ass.

he also, tried to make it up to you by cooking a classic english breakfast. which ended up in chaos — and you both decided to order take out instead.

GETO SUGURU. geto is usually calm and collected; he doesn't really get angry at anything. even if he does, he mostly keeps it to himself unless it really bothers him. but since humans have certain capacities to their own emotion — geto is not spared from being angry, no matter how calm he is.

after the death of amanai, you could feel him change. your geto. it was traumatizing for him, and you understood. always being there for him, never leaving him alone. the dark circles under his eyes were apparent, and it looked like he hasn't had a good night sleep for what seemed like . . . weeks, or months, if that's even possible.

geto appreciated your company, really. but sometimes, he also wanted to be left alone to dwell on his feelings. he didn't want to end up saying hurtful things to you because he was so angry at himself. but he did, and god was it horrible.

he was already feeling like shit before the argument— which if you see, wasn't really an argument at all. it was one-sided, geto was telling you off and you didn't say anything back. because you knew he didn't mean it. he almost desperately begged for you to leave him alone because your presence was "annoying" him and he couldn't stand it.

although geto said it in a heap of moment. he didn't mean it, and before he could say anything else, you tell him that you were going to be sleeping on the couch, so if he needed anything he was free to come to you.

geto didn't stop you. he was busy hating on himself for telling you that — and believe me when i say that he, right there, almost cried out of frustration.

he tossed and turned on his bed. where you were usually on too, beside him, holding his hand whilst he sleep. your hushed voice lulling him into a peaceful slumber; but you weren't there today, all because he told you to leave him alone. geto sat up, his eyelids heavy, but no matter how long he shut is, they always open back up.

with slow and heavy steps, he approaches you on the couch. and geto had always knew that you were a light sleeper, so his footsteps awoken you. seeing your eyes flutter open, geto slid on the couch, laying himself on top of you — head on your chest, arms clutching onto your shirt like he's desperate for your presence, and his legs intertwining with yours.

getos' hushed apologies were heard as he leaned into your warmth, and you told him that you were never angry. brushing his hair, massaging his scalp using your fingertips before lulling him to sleep, and geto did. almost immediately. and so did you.

he could never sleep without you. whether it being on the bed, the couch, or anywhere else — as long has you were with him, he will find the ability to drift off.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. is an ass. let's face it — he wouldn't give a fuck if you decided to sleep on the couch after an argument, at least for the first couple of hours. toji is a blunt man, and he's a sole believer that nobody could bear sleeping on the couch when there's a bed in the house.

but you were there to prove him wrong.

after an argument going south, he finds you grabbing your pillow and then seeking shelter on the couch. and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, knowing you'd come crawling back on the mattress after a few hours — because who'd choose the couch over the bed?

you. apparently.

he slept without a single care, thinking of words to say when you finally decided to come back on the bed. but when he woke up at three am, his arm searching to find your body, but realizing all he was catching was air — he finally realized that you weren't coming back onto the bed.

and it annoyed him. he was angry that you weren't there. and at three am? he was already wide awake, walking out of the room angrily. but his gaze softened when he saw you asleep, the constant flashing light from the television panning on your body; toji walks over, snatches the remote and turns the device off.

letting out a soft sigh, toji squats down, flicking your forehead. and the action was enough to make you grimace lightly in your sleep — although not enough to wake you up completely. the male chuckled and prepped an arm under the hollow under your knees, and an arm across your shoulder.

with ease he brought you into your shared room and he laid you down on the bed, covering your body with the blanket before he slips into his own portion of the bed. scooting closer to you as you instinctively nuzzled into his chest, seeking for comfort.

toji wouldn't admit that he was the one who brought you into the bed and would end up saying how you came crawling back at three am. you always find out the truth though, and toji tells you to forget about whatever he did because he won't be doing it again (he will).

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE