#and engage when someone tries to bring up a concern

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 5 of Truth or Dare Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Things are getting complicated, truths are being revealed, and a decisions are going to have to be made regarding the future. So much hangs in the balance and emotions are high as reality makes this about no more games.

Word Count: 9.8 k

Warnings: light mentions of smut (nothing explicit), pining, mutual pining, heavy angst, forcing a decision

Captain Price bristles at the private’s words, taken aback by this impromptu revelation, but he hides it all behind his usual stone cold stare. A gruff exhale exits his lips as he runs his fingertips over the perimeter of his mustache. “Don’t care ‘bout what happens on off hours,” he says full of contempt at being dragged into this bullshit. “It’s none of my business and it’s none of yours either, so best just drop it private.”

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go; the captain is supposed to march over to the lieutenant’s quarters and break up your little lovefest right this second at hearing his confession. At least that was what the private was hoping for when he decided to make this visit. He needs something more. 

“But sir,” he says more exasperatedly, “it isn’t just after hours. The first time I caught them, the lieutenant and sergeant were going at it in the munitions depot when I walked in; you remember that day you sent me to fetch Lt. Riley. They’ve even been engaging in activities in the field as well. During our mission they neglected their watch duties to screw around like some fucking teenagers. Is that what you call acceptable, sir? Is this how you run your operations?”

Goddammit, now it is Price’s problem. Messing around when off duty or on leave is one thing that can be easily overlooked as you are both adults who are engaging in activities with consent, but risking it all when out in the field is another matter altogether. There are protocols and you are supposed to be professionals. And if this bit of information gets out it could have dire consequences for the validity of this task force. 

“Maybe I should bring my concerns up to someone higher,” the private mutters in the silence that follows as Price mulls over everything in his mind. 

“What did ya say?” the captain fires back as he rejoins the conversation, his firm glare boring holes into the private.

Immediately the young man regrets having uttered it aloud, but there’s no going back now. “I just… I-if I need to, I-I will have to go above you, sir,” he stammers out as he tries to maintain his resolve.

Fuck, this is bad.

Price sits forward in his seat, his eyes never leaving the private even though he tries to divert his gaze; each time he brings it back Price is ready to meet it head on. “You will leave this be private,” Price threatens, his voice firm. “This is not under your jurisdiction, nor is it in your ability to decide who needs discipline in these matters. I will take care of it as I see fit; I am the one in charge, not you. Do you understand?”

“Sir, I should at least get to know that you are going to do…” the private tries to argue some more, but the captain is having none of it.

“You’re dismissed,” Price barks as he points a steady hand towards the door.

“But sir…” he tries to protest again and again he is cut off. 

“I said, dismissed private, or would you rather I start my disciplining with you,” Price says unyieldingly, staring him down with a glare that means he is seriously done with this conversation and with being disrespected. 

Quickly the private gets up from his seat with a furrow-browed nod and a rushed, pointed ‘yes, sir,’ that he mutters through his gritted teeth before he turns on his heels and stalks to the door to fling it open and stomp off into the night, leaving Price alone in his office once more as he slams it behind him. 

With the immediate quiet that follows, all Price can think about is what the private has revealed to him. To have the highly trained professional that is Simon Riley abandon everything to mess around with anyone during a mission is unheard of, but it being you makes this even more complicated. This is territory he has no prior knowledge on; something big must be happening for everything to be turned on its head and he doesn’t know what the fuck he is going to do about it all.

Though he knows he cannot just let this go. At least he has the weekend to think it all over, but he knows come Monday he is going to have to act or risk too much because that private is not going to let this go, that much is clear.

The captain decides that that is enough for the night and packs it up to head out. As he leaves out and turns to get back to his own quarters, his eyes linger over to where a specific officer is housed. “What the fuck have ya done Simon?” Price questions aloud to himself as he steps off into the darkness with much weighing on his mind, pondering the next steps of what actions must now be taken.

Back in the lieutenant’s room, hours pass in the blissfully exhaustive ecstasy produced from your union. Both of you slumber on peacefully, wrapped in one another, entirely unaware of anything outside the confines of the mattress until something unfamiliar makes Simon stir awake.

Intaking a full, deep breath, he fills his lungs with a flood of air as he comes back into consciousness, his eyes fluttering open in a mild panic from movement at his side. It takes him a moment to realize that it is you rolling back over to face him that has caught him off-guard; he forgot that you would still be in his bed. Mystery solved, he calmly settles back down into his pillow and watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, admiring how tranquil you look as your dark eyelashes rest delicately against your cheeks.

It’s been a long, long time since he’s slept beside anyone; he’d almost forgotten how comforting it can be to have another laying beside you. A weak smile spreads across his lips as careful fingers reach over to the side of your head so that he can tenderly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

God, you’re beautiful just like this. How did he get so god damn lucky to have something so pure sleeping soundly next to him? You let out a whispered sigh and suddenly he is caught up in a whirlwind of feelings that have been in hibernation for years as his fingertips linger delicately against the soft flesh of your cheek a moment more. He wishes he could kick himself for not trying to get closer to you sooner, if only to have you here lying next to him as if it has always been this way.  

Those copper eyes drift to the plain black and white standard government issue clock tacked to the wall. It’s nearly five in the morning; still too early to be conscious just yet, but once he’s up there’s no going back down. He takes a few more minutes to silently appreciate your sleeping form by capturing the image of you like a polaroid in his mind and then decides to just let you sleep until the last minute before he wakes you up to send you safely on your way.

Who said you needed to rush off anyway? 

As carefully as all 6’4” of him can, he eases his way out of the bed and creeps bare-arsed to the en suite bathroom so that he can grab a quick shower, though he’d like nothing more than to keep the scent of you on him a little longer. It won’t do him any favors to go around base today with the fragrance of sex covering him like a beacon to draw people’s unwanted attention.

Cautiously he eases the bathroom door to where it is slightly ajar, not risking shutting it since he knows how bad the damned thing squeaks, and only then does he flick on the fluorescent lights to illuminate the space. Blinking to adjust his eyes to the harsh brilliance, he opens them and immediately catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror that faces the door.   

Even though he still carries the signs of sleep in his distinct features, he can already tell that he is different somehow and he walks closer to his reflection to get a better look. Everything is exactly where it should be, but his eyes seem brighter, more full of life… as if he is happier than he has been in recent memory. He stares back into them as if he is looking at a different person, a reunion with an old friend he hasn’t seen in a long time.  

And he doesn’t know what to think. It is a gift from you, after all…though you don’t even know you’ve given it to him yet.

Simon shakes his head and chuckles to himself, not fully ready to accept this drastic change to his appearance just yet, as he pulls from the mirror and walks the few steps to the shower to get it going. The pipes running to the showerhead squeak to life as run for a few seconds when without warning he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind as a warm, naked chest presses into his back. It momentarily takes him by surprise as he is still getting used to having someone around, but he eventually settles into your embrace. 

“Was tryin’ not to wake ya yet,” he mutters as he runs his hand over yours that is against his stomach.

“Heard the shower kick on,” you murmur sleepily into his shoulder as you place your lips to the smooth skin near his shoulder blade, “thought I could do with getting clean myself, so I wanted to join you.”

It isn’t a total lie, you do need to wash up after the mess from the night before, though you wish you could be honest and say that you just wanted to be close while you still can. You know you are going to have to leave soon if you want to make it back to your quarters without detection, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of disappointment that looms like a gray cloud at the back of your mind that you will have to part ways. 

Simon holds your palms pressed rigid and flat against his abdominals so you can’t let go as he leans in to check the temperature of the water with his free hand. The heated liquid rains down onto his palm perfectly warm, but not too hot, and being satisfied he pulls you both inside the cozy oasis. 

He moves you in front of him so that your back is directly under the shower head, letting the heated water run through the length of your hair and down the curves of your bare back to keep you warm. It feels like you’re still in a dream the way the steam rises around your bodies in the tight space, the condensation clinging to your skin like a warm blanket. Maybe you are still asleep in his bed, you feel barely awake as it is, and if that’s the case you hope you don’t wake up cause you don’t want to leave the fantasy just yet. 

The soothing water lulls you into a drowsy calm as Simon holds you close against him while he naturally rocks you both back and forth with slow, easy movements as he gently tries to help you wake up. He cannot help admiring the flush in your face brought on by the heat or the way the droplets trickle over your soft, delicate skin. Reaching out, his hand connects with your cheek as he strokes his coarse thumb over your jaw and up to the corner of your mouth before dragging it heavily over your bottom lip until he has them parted. 

“I swear you’re a fuckin’ dream, pretty girl,” he whispers as his hand on your face brings it in towards his so that he can gently connects your lips. 

Memories of confessions from the night before spring back to the surface, admissions of possession that he doesn’t want to take back even though that mind-numbing haze from being inside you is gone. You can hear him sigh heavily as he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours.

If only he could wake up like this every day. Could that even be a possibility for someone like him? Inside the steam-filled oasis that cloaks you both from reality, he allows himself to fantasize just a little. Maybe…maybe…

Simon lets you go only to grab the soap from its place sitting on the edge of the tub, ready to clean up the mess he made. Taking care of someone other than himself is an oddly comforting sensation to him and even though you try to protest that he doesn’t have to, he still takes the time to wash you down anyway before tending to himself. 

He leaves you inside the shower to finish up as he steps out into the bathroom, wrapping a towel securely around his hips, making sure to leave a towel for you as well before he heads to the mirror. His rigorous actions between your legs last night left a rather rough patch against your thigh that he caught sight of in the shower and checking his face in the foggy bit of glass above the sink, Simon decides it’s about time to shave.

…cause he is definitely going to get between those legs again soon. 

A bag of random toiletries lies at the edge of the sink and he rummages around in it until he locates his razor. He steps up to the counter and turns on the sink just as the creak from the shower handle rings out and the water is shut off. From the mirror he can see you step out and wrap the towel he’s set out for you around your chest. 

You ring out your hair behind you before you move to his side and turn to rest your butt against the edge of the countertop. Looking down, you spy the shaving instrument in his hand.

“Gettin’ rid of it?” you ask with a hint of disappointment as you reach up and run your fingertips over his jaw. The steam from the shower has already softened the hairs so they don’t prickle roughly against your touch as you outline his face.

Suddenly he can’t find his voice; every single time you touch him it’s like the first time all over again and it makes his head spin. Clearing his throat he looks down at you. “It’s a bit too rough, innit?” he says, tapping at your thigh with the abrasion on it. “Don’t wanna hurt ya again.”

Why did it sound more deep a sentiment than it should have been? A lump wells in your throat as you realize he is doing this for you and you alone; it’s just a shave, but to have him care about your wellbeing is very special to you. Especially after the confessions from the night before; clearly he has meant it: you belong to him now.

“Well, if you must…but, I wonder. Can I?” you ask with a smile as you reach for the blade in his hand.

Simon pauses before giving it up to you. This is a new one for him and he is a little unsure, but curious enough to see where it leads. You move your body between him and the counter so that you can hop up and sit yourself in front of him. Opening your legs, you pull him in close.

“You trust me, don’t you?” you ask barely above a whisper as you situate him in the middle of your legs. 

More than anyone, he thinks to himself as he silently stares back into your eyes. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t have to, he just drops his hands by his sides and tilts his jaw up.

Your ankles link behind the small of his back as your hand grasps his chin to keep his head steady so you can place the razorblade to his cheek. The sharp edge of the blade pushes into his skin and is dragged slowly down the line of his face until it reaches your hand where you pick it up to move on to the next section. It’s like an intimate dance, the risk of it all as the blade continues to pass over his skin, but you skill keeping him safe from cuts, making his heart race so you can feel his pulse under your fingertips.

“Just hold still,” you say as you feel the sensation of his hands moving up your bare thighs, running up towards your hips that have peeked out through the slit in the towel. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ya won’t,” he says in that gruff tone without hesitation and you can feel the warmth rise in your face. 

There is steam still lingering in the air from the shower; it is fogging the mirror and adds a filmy haze to the atmosphere. The aroma of his soap is strong between your bodies, both of you coated in his usual plain, clean scent. It’s nice just being here like this with him. 

Another pass of the blade and more of that thick stubble comes right off under your careful hand. You move the blade over to the sink to rinse it again and that’s when you feel it, a stabbing against your thigh from within the confines of his towel. His damp, hair-covered chest rubs against your forearms as he moves in even tighter to you.

“Like the way ya look, all serious like when you’re workin’ hard at somethin’,” he says in a breathy whisper as you finish another swipe of the razorblade across his jaw. “Didn’t know how good you’d be with a sharp object in your hand.”

“Well, if you keep moving I might not be so precise. I’m almost done,” you scold him, but Simon isn’t deterred just because you have something sharp in your hand. He has something just as deadly prodding into you too.

His strong fingertips jab themselves into your hips, stabbing into the meat hard through the towel as he presses himself into you and suddenly it feels like you can’t quite catch your breath. He hums deep in his chest, a low, guttural sound that makes your clit throb as those long fingers of his twirl the loose, wet strands of your hair between them.

“I’ll give ya ‘bout another minute to get it done,” he says as his gaze lingers longingly on your mouth. “That’s all I can wait.” 

Suddenly the room isn’t the only thing that is obscured in a haze; your mind is misfiring terribly now as you hurry to finish the job while also being sure you don’t miss any spots. You rinse the blade for the last time and quickly check him over, flashing him a satisfied smile at your handiwork. 

“I thought we just got clean for the day?” you ask as he takes the blade from your hand and sets it on the countertop beside you.  

He doesn’t answer the question with words, instead letting his mouth do something else to convey his thoughts. His kiss is softer now with the missing stubble, though just as passionate as it always is and it takes your breath away. 

“I like the way you kiss me,” you murmur against his lips. 

“Good, cause I don’t plan on stoppin’ anytime soon, sweetheart,” he groans as his fingers reach up to your chest to find the edge of the towel; with one small tug he has it undone. It drops down around the sink as he leans in more aggressively to capture your mouth.  

There’s still enough time for another shower, right? Fuck, at this point he’ll make time.

Dawn is just beginning to break its first soft light over the base as you step out of the shower for the second time and hurriedly get dressed. Simon meets you at the door with a knot in the pit of his stomach; time’s up whether he is ready or not and if you want to make it back undetected it has to be now.

“Got plans later tonight?” he asks as he pulls you to him one last time.

You look up into his face and shake your head. “Not that I know of. Gonna be a light day today. Why?”

Simon pins you against him with his arm around your waist as he tilts his head down to kiss your lips. “Just thinkin’ ya might want ta be in later,” he says, giving one last peck before he opens the door and you immediately take off in the direction of your personal quarters.

He keeps his eyes on you till you’re out of sight, trying to wipe away the slight upturning of the corners of his mouth. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he grumbles under his breath as he shuts the door.

The rest of the day is spent in a blur, punctuated by the few times you just happened to catch a glimpse of Simon through the days as you go about. Your mind constantly wanders back to what he meant by you might want to stay in later, so when Soap asks if you’re gonna come hang in the rec with them for a bit of Saturday fun, you decline and stay put in your room instead.   

It’s a little after 9 o’clock when there is a heavy knock on your door, loud raps that echo through the room and make you put away the book you are failing to distract yourself with under your bed. You hop off the mattress, your heart fluttering in your chest. Making it to the door and pulling it open you immediately come face to face with the person leaning against your door frame: Simon. 

“Ya gonna let me in, luv?” he asks. “Or ya just gonna fuckin’ leave me out ‘ere all night?”

You cross your arms and furrow your brow as if you are agitated, but it doesn’t last more than a few seconds before you are breaking character. “Couldn’t stay away for one night, could you?” you pick back.

There is a visible smirk beneath the thin fabric of his lightweight balaclava. “ ‘S part a my routine,” he says as you grab his hand and drag him inside. “Too used to it now.” 

“Well far be it from me to stop you,” you say with a smile as you shut the door and bolt it behind you both while Simon quickly rips off the mask and pulls you into a kiss. 

“Knew you’d cave,” he breathes against your mouth.

“Maybe I like you around,” you say back.

Maybe I like bein’ around, he thinks as he kisses you back harder as you lead him over to your bed. 

Sunday evening is spent in the same vein except with you both switching off again so that you are the one to come over to his to spend your evening together. Cause he is right, this arrangement has become routine now and your day just doesn’t feel complete without seeing him. Unfortunately though, it being Sunday you both decide to call it earlier as your duties will call you to work early in the morning.

One lingering goodbye later and Simon is once again watching you walk away, secretly making a wish that maybe you’ll get the chance soon to spend more time together when something breaks him out of his thoughts. As he shuts the door behind you, suddenly he can hear a distinct buzzing coming from somewhere near his bed. He knows that sound; it’s his cellphone. It’s late and he never gets a call at this time, so quickly he grabs it up off the nightstand near the bed and as soon as he is able to get a look at the screen, his heart sinks into the floor: Price is the one that is calling. 

He picks it up. “Yes, sir,” he answers in his usual stern tone.

There is a pause over the line before the captain speaks. “Lieutenant,” Price says, “I apologize for calling, I know it’s late, but I need to see you in my office tomorrow morning. 0800 hours. There are some things we urgently need to discuss.”

This strikes Simon as odd; never has the captain called him this late to inform him of a meeting the next day, so why would he be doing it now? Something feels off about it all and though he has no information other than that his presence is needed, there is something in Price’s tone that has his blood running cold. 

“What’s this about, sir?” Simon asks, keeping his voice metered as his heart begins to race. 

Price sighs. “I would rather wait till the mornin’ to talk further as this is something that needs to be discussed in person.”

“Yes, sir,” Simon agrees.  

“That is all lieutenant, enjoy the rest of your evening,” the captain says in a rush and with that the line goes dead, leaving Simon confused and slightly worried.

Time seems to drag on endlessly as anxiety keeps him up the entire night tossing and turning as he stares into the ceiling. He thinks about texting you just to see if you’re up, but he talks himself out of it. His needless worries shouldn’t bother you, even though he knows you’d answer him in a heartbeat. No, he just needs to get through the night and then in the morning everything will be settled; it’s going to be fine.

An hour before he is supposed to meet the captain and Simon is already up and dressed; his office is less than a ten minute walk from Simon’s, but he wants to be early. It’s better to just get this over with so he can enjoy the rest of his day and make plans to see you later. With twenty minutes still to go he heads out and makes his way across the base. 

With a knock on the door, he waits until Price looks up before entering the office. 

“Early as usual,” the captain greets him.

“Better than late,” he says, before nodding back behind him. “Ya want me to shut the door?” 

“Not yet,” Price says and Simon leaves the doorway to take his seat in one of the chairs facing the large, wooden desk.

He’s sitting for just a few minutes before Price’s eyes dart up to the door and he can feel the shadow of another person standing there. “Ah, yes, come in and shut the door. Now that you are both here, we can get started,” he hears the captain say as he turns his head to see who it is that has arrived; he had been under the impression that this was a solo meeting this whole time.

Suddenly his heart stops as the person comes into his line of sight. It’s you, the blood draining from your face as you see him sitting there. It’s clear you have been caught off-guard by this as much as he has. The atmosphere becomes tense and strained as you take a seat next to Simon. Captain Price sits tall with authority as he stares back at the pair of you, a grave look in his gaze. 

“Do you know why I’ve called you in here?” Price asks, looking first at you, then the lieutenant.

Neither of you feel keen enough to say anything, but you finally speak up first, if only to break the anxiety bubbling under your moderately calm surface. “No, sir.”

Price takes a hesitant breath. “I have been informed over the weekend about you both engaging in acts of misconduct,” he says firmly. “You’ve been seen cavorting with one another on several occasions. Now, there are things that can be overlooked and if it were up to me I woulda simply turned a blind eye and pretended to know anything, but it has been brought to light that these ‘activities’ were done while out in the field on your latest mission. Is this true?” 

The hair on Simon’s arms is standing on end and he feels like he is about to be sick, the bile violently churning in his stomach as his worst fear is realized. Instantly he feels guilty and begins to blame himself; this is all his fault. After all, he was the one to break protocol back at the safehouse. His careless actions have caught up to you both and now you will have to face the consequences.

Price turns his attention to you as there is no hiding the guilt on your face like Simon can behind his mask and though neither of you have spoken yet to confirm, there is no need. Your body language mixed with his lieutenant’s silence alone tells him that the accusations that were made are indeed true.  

“You both understand that this is out of my hands,” Price emphasizes the point. “If this reaches anywhere outside this base my authority will be brought into question and this operation cannot afford that. Not to mention that I risk the possibility of losing either one or both of you if things escalate. What the hell were you thinkin’, doin’ that while deployed?”

The lieutenant doesn’t have an answer, at least not one that will make this all go away. The problem is that he wasn’t thinking; all he knew was that for the first time in a long while he wanted something so bad that the consequences didn’t matter in that moment. Now he has to pay for them and unfortunately that means you do as well…and that is what is breaking his heart. 

He has dragged you into hell with him.

“You both have crossed a line that I can’t pull you back from,” Price continues with a defeated exhale. In all honesty, he wants nothing more than to let this go, but there are too many variables at stake. “The one who reported this is threatening to take this up the ladder as far as they need if I do nothing. My hands are tied on the matter.”

“Sir, if you’ll let me explain, perhaps we can come to an agreement…” you try to reason with your captain, but that is not how this will go.

Price can hear the tremble in your voice and he knows he’s struck a chord. The look he gives you is one full of remorse. “But in the end we’re all adults here and that means ya have a say in what happens to yourselves. If you want to request a transfer or, hell, apply for a discharge, I can’t stop you; that is a decision you have a right to make.”

The wind feels like it has been knocked from Simon’s lungs and though he can see Price talking, his mind will not allow him to fully comprehend what is being said. 

Amidst the stunned hush that has fallen over the room, Price slowly pushes his chair out from the desk and makes his way to stand. “I know I’ve sprung this on you both without so much as a warning, so I’ll give you some time alone to make your decisions. Otherwise, I will have to make them for you and that is something I want to avoid.”

With that he steps out of the office, closing the door behind him, and thrusting you both into an uncomfortably tense stillness. It lingers for far too long as Simon battles internally with what to do, struggling to accept that his happiness has imploded as it always does, but one thing he keeps coming back to is the fact that no matter what, you will be forced to separate if one or both of you decide to stay in this line of work.  

The taskforce means everything to you just as it does him and this is so much bigger than simply exploring the depths of a crush. This is your entire life, all the blood, sweat, and effort you’ve both put in to be here; it’s all you’ve worked so hard for. It is all you both have ever known. 

Can you really give that all up? It’s too soon to be having this type of life-altering conversation.

Out of the turmoil in his mind, he hears you calling his name. “Simon? Hey,” you call out to him again to get his attention; it feels like he is a million miles away even though he is still sitting right beside you. 

He can’t bear to look you in the face and keeps his eyes locked on his shoes; his gaze is so avoidant that it is painful, especially after how close you both have become. Still, you try your hardest to lighten the mood even through the ache making your chest tight. 

“Not the best way to start the morning,” you chuckle uncomfortably. 

More silence follows, more agony. He’s going to have to say something at some point and when he does it’s all going to come crashing down. As long as he is quiet he can suspend the moment for as long as possible. 

“Listen,” you say, “I know this sounds bad, but we can figure it out. I mean, I don’t have a problem with requesting the transfer if I have to.”

That’s the last thing he wants; you can’t leave. If you leave it will kill him. “Sweetheart… don’t…” Simon speaks up for the first time since you entered the office and it sounds like he’s being tortured. 

“Would a transfer really be so bad? Who knows? It could just be for a short while until everything cools off,” you remark, still hopeful, but he simply shakes his head.

Simon pauses. “No, ya can’t do that,” he says and you can feel a lump forming in the base of your throat that makes you almost gag.

“Isn’t it my decision? Don’t I get a say in what I do?” you push.

Another drawn out pause. “Ya don’t wanna do that, I know ya don’t.”

“Don’t speak for me,” you say harshly as you know where this is headed and you can’t stand even the thought of it. “I can choose to do what I want.”

“I can’t let ya do that,” he denies you again, his words firm. “I can’t let ya fuckin’ give up everythin’ for me, no matter how much I may want it. Ya forget I read your personnel file when ya arrived, I know ya worked your ass off ta get ‘ere. You made it all the way ta sergeant by the sweat of your brow. Don’t fuckin’ throw it all away jus’ for somethin’ so new.”

More pauses. Why is there so much silence present now? It hurts to have all that quiet be filled with sadness where it was only comfort before. 

“So, this is it then?” Your heart is shattering into pieces, you can physically feel it crumble as you suffocate on the sadness. When did this get so god damn complicated?

Simon bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste copper. “I don’t know what else ta fuckin’ do…” he says quietly. “This is all so sudden, I don’t ‘ave a plan. I just know ya can’t leave and I need more time.”

He’s not as quick to act on this as you are and you can’t fault him for that. In all honesty he isn’t wrong; this is all happening so fast that it’s overwhelming and nothing really feels like the right decision. So, even though it pains you to concede to his argument, you do and the heartbreak wins. Yet you cling on to the hope that maybe there is a way out of this. He did not say outright that he is completely done, only that he needs time to think. 

You can give him time, right?

“Please, Simon, just look at me.”

Those brown eyes drift up to meet yours and the agony of this whole fucked up situation is written in his gaze. This is supposed to be something wonderful, not something that has casualties, and he is being ripped apart by duty and what he wants most. He wants to scream, beat his fists, break anything, but it won’t do any good; he is like a man cursed…somehow this was always going to happen.

“ ’m sorry,” he says and a heavy bit of silence follows as you sit there just looking at one another. 

Overcome with emotion, you swallow hard. “I know,” you retort as you reach out to take his hand in yours. “I know.”

Simon slides his long fingers in between the spaces in yours and holds on so tight to your hand it’s almost painful. Irrationally he thinks that maybe if he squeezes hard enough not even fate can take you from him, but that isn’t the case. There is no stopping what has to happen and though you both can prolong the moment, you can’t stop time. 

Releasing his grasp, he lets you go and all at once you feel like you’re drowning. He leaves your side only for a moment to reopen the door as a sign that a decision has been made. Several more excruciating minutes pass, but eventually Price reenters the office and again takes his seat. There is a gloom that sits in the room now like a fog and he knows without even having to ask that a decision has been reached and it is one that clearly was not reached happily.

“It’s over, sir,” Lt. Riley confirms with the short response; any more than that and he may fall apart.

Price nods in acknowledgement. “In that case, I think it best to send ya both out on separate missions very soon. It’ll show that action has been taken in case anything else comes from the allegations. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter; I know it could not have been easy.”

You nod back firmly in agreement and Lt. Riley does the same. 

Price quickly dismisses you both and you immediately bolt up from your seat to make it to the door in a flurry of quick steps, too overwhelmed by your emotions to sit still another second more beside the one thing you can no longer have. You can’t seem to catch your breath and even though you make it outside of the stifling atmosphere inside the office, it does not lessen. 

Your feet carry you forward to where you have no clue; there is no rational thought left with you right now. All you know is that you need to put distance between everything and everyone that you can before you shatter because it hurts like you are being torn in half from the inside and if you are going to rupture you want to do it where no one can see.

But grief is a volatile and disastrous thing; it consumes and destroys and confuses. Right now, your mind is scrambling to feel something other than the pain of your loss, any other emotion it can experience that won’t murder it and it settles on the emotion that is the opposite side of grief: anger.

Halfway across the site you spot that familiar mohawked head near the mess hall and a rage builds in you. You and Simon had speculated before about Johnny’s knowledge of your situation, what if he was the one that told Price? Intentional or not, what if he is the reason all this is destroyed? There is not a shred of proof, but your brain is desperate to find someone to blame, anyone to throw all your anger on and that just happens to be him. Before you can stop yourself, you are already bounding his way. 

Johny looks up as you come within earshot, turning his back to the building. “Hey, stranger, ‘aven’t seen ye ‘round much this weekend. Wonder why that is?” he says with a knowing smirk, but it drops from his face as he sees the look on yours. 

Without warning you grab Johnny by the collar and manhandle him until you are able to haul him forward and slam into the wall behind him, knocking the wind from his lungs as you crush him up against the concrete. “Was it you?” you spat the question with fury into his face. “Tell me now or so help me God…”

“What the fuckin’ hell are ye talkin’ ‘bout?” he asks back as he struggles under your tight grip around his collar. “Have ye lost yer mind?”

Blinded by rage, you pull him back only to shove him harder into the wall. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you say, the venom in your voice full of acid. “Were you the one that ran like a bitch to tattle on me to Price? You better have a fucking good reason why.”

Johnny pauses and stops struggling against your grip, confused. “Wait, what?” he asks. “Someone’s gone te Price ‘bout somethin’? Ye gotta explain everythin’ cause I don’t get it; seriously, what’s this about?”

The tone of his voice causes you to really discern the look in his eyes: he is genuinely confused by your statement. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about?” you question.

He shakes his head. “No and I’m bein’ serious.”

In the time you’ve known him, Johnny has always been straight with you and you do genuinely trust him to tell you the truth. He may be a pain in your ass sometimes, but honesty is always something that you have shared. If he says he doesn’t know, he must really not know.

“Tell me, what’s happened?” he asks, his brows drawn together as he stares back at you with serious concern. 

You choke back the emotion gathered in your throat as your eyes sting. No sense in hiding anything; he’d probably find out eventually anyway if gossip gets around. Besides, keeping this inside makes you feel like you’re rotting. “Price knows about what me and the lieutenant have been doing in secret and what we did while we were on our last mission,” you admit as you hang your head. 

Johnny is silent for a moment. “I fuckin’ knew it,” he says with a chuckle, which he immediately regrets as you pop your head up to give him a heated glare. “No, I… look, jus’ listen ta me for a moment.”

Releasing him from your grasp you take a step back, the anger subsiding to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. Tears burn around the rims of your eyes at how lost you feel and how easily you are flying off the handle; it makes you worried. How are you meant to control this? How are you meant to survive?

Johnny straightens himself up and continues. “Yes, I knew ‘bout ye and the lieutenant…cause I was the one that orchestrated the whole setup. I seen tha way ye two kept eyein’ each other an’ I decided that ye both needed a push in tha right direction. Why the hell would I get ye together only ta get ye in trouble with Price?” 

You divert your gaze again. “Well, it’s all over now,” you can barely say aloud; just hearing yourself speak it into existence feels like being stabbed in the chest. “Whoever ratted us out is threatening to go above Price’s head if they need to. There’s nothing left for us to do, but end it or shit’s gonna get worse. It’s already done.”

Fuck, you can’t hold back for much longer and the last thing you need is to cry, but a pair of strong hands clasp around your shoulders to bring you back from the brink of your sadness. 

“Look,” Johnny tries to reassure as he is genuinely worried about your wellbeing. “I’ll figure out who it was that stuck their bloody nose in it, alright? Jus’ leave it ta me; I’ll get ye a name and hell, I’ll help ye gut the bastard if ye need. We’ll figure it out, honest.”

Somehow you don’t think anything will come of it, but at least it is something. Right now hope is a drug you have to take just to get through.

Days pass the same way with little variation in your mood. You try to stay as busy as you possibly can, filling your schedule to the brim with as much work as Price can give you. He doesn’t mention it, but everything he assigns you seems to keep you from even crossing paths with your former lover and for that you are grateful. Then a few days become a week and a week becomes two, but time does nothing to stop the ache in your chest and at the end of each day, when you return to your room and the quiet hits you, it’s impossible not to shed a few tears into your pillow as you pine for the company you once had. 

Thankfully mission assignments finally go out and you can spend your time consumed in preparation to depart to fill the void that settles in your chest. It’s a couple of days before you are meant to leave and information makes its way through the grapevine that Lt. Riley is headed out tonight with his team and god if it doesn’t kill you not even to get the chance to say goodbye.

You can’t even finish your lunch today; you are so upset by the news that you quickly toss your food into the trash and head out. You’re so wrapped in your thoughts you don’t even hear Johnny calling to you until he has caught up to you outside of the mess hall and is grabbing your elbow to drag you alongside him. Where are you going? You have no clue.   

“What are you doing?” you ask with annoyance, not up for whatever bullshit he’s trying to pull today. 

“Jus’ keep walkin’,” he says, his head constantly on a swivel as if he is looking for something. You try to protest, but it gets you nowhere as he keeps booking it across the base with you in hand until you both reach the munitions depot where he finally comes to a stop and lets you go. 

You look up at the building. “Why are we here?”

“Keep yer head and jus’ go inside,” Johnny says as he gives you a shove towards the door. “Ye only got a couple minutes, so ‘urry the hell up.”

You stare at him with a raised eyebrow. What the hell is he talking about? You really aren’t in the mood for his shit, but you also don’t have the energy in you to fight him on it; you let out a weighted huff and grab the handle, pulling it hard so that the door swings open and you head inside. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to be looking for?” you question yourself.

There is movement and you hear the sound of boot steps. “That would be me,” a gravelly voice sounds at your side, making you jump.  

You are thrown into respiratory distress as you turn around where you’re greeted with that familiar mask and its wearer is just standing within reach. “Simon,” you breathe his name like a prayer, forgetting decorum.

“Wrangled Mactavish inta helpin’ me, said he’d bring ya and guard the door,” Lt. Riley says as he stands there, unsure of what to do with his hands. “I-” he sighs, “I had ta see ya ‘fore I leave.” 

Suddenly the room is spinning and you can’t figure out which way is up. After the agonizing chasm of space that has been put between you it is disorienting to be this close again and you aren’t sure what to do. Do you run into his arms? Do you keep your distance?

It doesn’t make sense.

“I know I shouldn’t have brought ya ‘ere like this,” he says, “but I…missed ya.” He pauses and sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose through the mask. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’. I’m supposed ta follow orders no questions asked, but…” 

Standing there, waiting on bated breath, you stare back at him with those big doe eyes until you are able to speak and break the silence. “But what?”

More silence follows your question as he steps closer and closer and closer. Then he stops and there are only inches between your bodies. He reaches out his hand and the backs of his gloved fingers brush against your own with a touch so delicate it doesn’t seem humanly possible, most of all from someone like the lieutenant. 

“Priorities are changin’,” he admits as he takes your hand into his grasp hesitantly, eyes unable to look anywhere but at the connection as if he isn’t sure if he should touch you at all. “I never experienced somethin’ like this before. I don’t know what the fuck to do.” 

“Are you saying you want to go against Price?” 

His sight lingers on your conjoined hands as his jaw shifts under the mask, struggling to find the words. As he clears his throat, his gaze finally draws back to your face to meet your eyes. He doesn’t have to say anything, you can read the sentiment in his gaze: he is being tortured by being forced to choose between his duty to this task force and what he wants above all else. 

“Listen, yeah? As long as we follow orders, we get ta stay near each other. Fight it and who knows what the fuck’ll happen. I…” he pauses, the pain of confession hard to stand, “I don’t know if I can risk not bein’ able to see ya at all, sweetheart. Even just a glimpse cross the way.”

“You think that is better than one of us leaving?” you want to ask, but the question dies on your tongue and in its place is only a bitter taste in your mouth. 

You know if you say anything at all it’s only going to make it harder- for the both of you. You are just two soldiers bound by a need to do what is right and nothing is going to change that. Fuck do you want to scream, to rage at what you are being strong-armed into doing against your will, yet your exterior stays a calm mask against the storm inside. The situation puts you between a rock and a hard place and though you don’t want to admit it he is ultimately right; if all you get is to have nothing or what you had before all this mess started, then you would choose the latter.

At least you can still be around one another; at least you can still see him. Even if every time you do it is going to shatter your heart all over again.

Lt. Riley feels like he is being ripped apart as he catches the agonizing pain in your eyes. “I need ya ta know, if circumstances were different…” 

You stop him before he can say more by gently placing your hand against his covered lips; you cannot bear to hear anything else about ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’. It’s too painful right now to dream. Accepting reality is the only thing that is going to help you survive now. The lieutenant’s eyes drop to the floor as he comes to terms with the fact that some things are better left unsaid. 

Removing your hand from the fabric of his mask, you can feel that recognizable mass welling in your throat and you know you are going to have to leave soon or risk him seeing you cry. That is an image you don’t want to leave him with, not if this is what he has to see before he goes.

“I’m glad I got to see you before you leave,” you say while forcing your best smile for him. “It was hard thinking you’d leave and I wouldn’t get to say goodbye at least.”

He nods as he cups your cheek. “Ya be safe, yeah?” 

You lean into his touch and close your eyes; god, it’s hard not to enjoy his touch. “You too.” 

Time is slipping away fast like sand through a sieve and he knows that you only have a few short minutes left that you will go unnoticed so he blurts out the question that sits on the tip of his tongue and he can’t stop it from coming out. “One last kiss?” he asks, though he hates himself for doing so.

A ragged breath is pushed out of your lungs as your eyes flutter open. The question is surprising, but you already know the answer; you can’t say no because to deny him would mean denying yourself and your heart won’t let you. His hands paw at your face as his eyes beg. 

Your heartbeats mesh together as you press your body against his until they become one rhythm. He keeps his hands locked to your face as you reach up and slip the bottom of his mask up over his lips and rest it on top of his nose. It feels like you are holding your breath and time stops as you again capture his unwavering stare.   

“Make it count,” you breathe.

You can feel the shudder from his desperate inhale as he collapses into you like the burst from a dying star, crashing his fiery kiss onto your mouth with an intensity that makes your knees buckle, but he has you. His arms keep you up as he aggressively steals your lips over and over again, pinning his mouth on yours until it burns, stealing your breath, tasting your kiss, letting that gnawing ache that had been festering in his heart eat him alive.   

His intensity is matched with your own as you kiss him back with everything that you have. You need the feeling of his lips to be imprinted on yours for as long as they can and you push so hard he cannot catch air. But just as quickly as it started, it has to end.

“Eh, ye need ta ‘urry guys,” the sound of Soaps voice calls from the door, forcefully thrusting you both back into reality. Lt. Riley grips around your biceps and pries himself from you with everything he has and with that he bounds away as you fall to your knees and enfold your arms around yourself like a hug, the tears streaming down your cheeks in heavy, engorged droplets. 

He is gone.

The time away does nothing to ease the pain of your separation. Being off base makes your absence in his life even more prominent. You are in his head constantly after that last kiss, haunting him like a ghost that he cannot get rid of and though he knows he should, part of him won’t let go; he can’t. No, that’s not entirely it. Even if he could let go, he won’t.

The lieutenant’s days spent on assignment pass by agonizingly slow and he begins to realize that as much as he enjoys what he does, that it is no longer holding the same importance in his heart as it once did. That feeling has been replaced by something else and that is the way he felt with you. He had thrown everything outside of work to the wayside because never believed that he would get a chance at bits of normalcy in his life. Until you…

What if he is throwing away something that could fulfill him more than his work with the 141? Could he live with that? Whenever he finds himself with a free moment, he spends them silently contemplating that question, mulling it over incessantly in his mind even though he keeps returning to the same conclusion: he can’t live with it. 

He would rather regret leaving all this behind if it meant he could be with you than to regret letting you slip through his fingers. And he desperately wants to tell you that he finally knows what to do.

The thought eats at him until one night, as he lays awake staring at the pitch black ceiling, he can no longer take it and without thinking he is digging through his pack to grab his cell phone and just like that the small, square device is in his hand and he is turning it on. As the light pierces through the darkness, missed call after missed call pops up on the screen all from… Mactavish?  

It’s only been off for a few hours. What the fuck is going on?

Lt. Riley hurriedly moves himself into a quiet corner away from the others sleeping and quickly redials the number. The repetitive ringing continues until they instantaneously stop and the young sergeant answers with an urgency in his tone that makes the lieutenant’s heartbeat pound in his ears.

“LT, fuck, been tryin’ te get a hold a ye fer a while now,” Soap says over the receiver. “Don’t ye ever answer yer god damn phone?”

The lieutenant tries to speak quietly so that he won’t draw any prying ears into eavesdropping on this conversation. “What the hell sergeant? Ya think I just have all the fuckin’ time to chitchat?”

Soap ignores the lieutenant’s agitation; this is more important and he is risking a lot by even having this conversation at all, so it’s gotta be quick. “ ‘Ave ye spoken te Price? Laswell? Anyone back ‘ere?” he asks as if insisting on a swift answer.

“No,” Lt. Riley confirms. “Haven’t had a need. Why?”

“Fuck, so no one’s said anythin’ te ye yet?” Soap questions as if the fact is distressing him.

“ ‘Bout what? Today, Mactavish,” Lt. Riley says with a hint of unchecked panic in his voice. Nothing about how Mactavish sounds is making the lieutenant feel any better, not the way whatever it is has him flustered like this. 

“We ‘ave a situation,” he says firmly and what comes out of his mouth next makes the usually calm and collected lieutenant nearly drop his phone as his entire body goes numb. “The sergeant and her team deployed right after ye, as ye know… all was fine until a few days ago.”

Simon can’t breathe as Soap finishes his sentence. “...we’ve lost contact…they’re all currently MIA.”

Tag list: @flameohotpotatooo @shadowtfpcod @xnyx1n @igotmajordaddyissues @essentialbeats-blog @mishaglass

[calicoheartz]

please please write a smut fic inspired by that that pic of caitlin with her hair wet 🙏🙏

Wild & Wet ; Caitlin Clark ᶻz

꣑୧ — summary | cait w wet hair makes u go absolutely feral !

wc ; 891

— warnings | NSFW under the cut! read ur own risk ! ab riding , dirty talk , scissoring, etc

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : tysm for all the love on my last cc nsfw fic ! tried to make this one a little bit more interesting for yall, enjoy !

There was something about your girlfriend with wet hair that made you go absolutely feral. You didn’t know how to even explain, there was just something about it that gave you a little problem that only she could fix.

So it wasn’t surprising that when Cait came back from a victorious win , she would hop in the shower and go about her entire self care routine, one of which involved her washing her luscious locks.

This didn’t concern you, I mean you loved the way your girlfriend smelt after a shower. It was what came after that concerned you.

She kissed your forehead gently, mumbling a “im gonna go shower and then im all yours,” you nodded at this, as the brunette turned away and headed towards your shared bathroom.

Around 30 minutes later, you heard the water shut off, and a pair of familiar footsteps headed towards your bedroom, with the door creaking slightly as it was opened.

You wished you could save this moment forever, the sight of your girlfriend standing in the doorway with a towel wrapped around her neck, her hair wet and sticking to her face slightly, as she adorned her signature black sports bra and matching sweats.

You grinned at her slightly, as she plopped onto the space beside you, immediately bringing your face to hers as she began to softly pepper your face with kisses. You took this as an opportunity to crawl into her lap, facing her directly as silence followed.

Your hands planted on her chest, palms accidentally pressed against her nipples as you try to gain more leverage. You looked at her with a loving gaze, as the brunette gives you a smirk in reply. “Someone missed me.” she chirped, causing a pink haze to form on your cheeks, as her hands made their way to your sides. Moving them up and down lovingly, earning a whimper from you.

Your head drops slightly, eyes screwed shut as you rock your hips back and forth slowly. Your arousal glistening on her skin, leaking through the grooves of her abs. The prettiest sounds fall from your mouth as she gently massages your thighs that are pressed against the sides of her torso.

“Yeah. Yeah, just like that. Yeah, keep moving your hips like that. Youre so fucking pretty-ohmyfuckinggod” the brunette mumbles out, her voice low and raspy from her own wetness pooling inside her.

Your whimpers progressively getting louder and louder as you torturously overstimulated yourself on your girlfriends abs.

Cait quickly flips you over onto your back, her tall frame towering over you as she asks, “are you going to be a good girl and let me do whatever I want to you?” you not eagerly at this, desperate for any friction against your cold, anything to solve the mess happening in your panties.

She tugs at your panties, giving her a nod of approval, she slowly slips them off you and discards them somewhere in your shared bedroom.

The brunette slowly opens your legs, and situates herself on top of you, discarding her own boxers in the process.

She begins slowly rubbing her pretty clit against yours, as she watched in awe how drunk you were from it. So so so submissive for her, being such a good girl for her as she took your tongue in her mouth, engaging in a deep but fiery kiss. “Mm…cait-” you said, pornographic moans escaping your lips as you gripped her shoulders, grinding against her.

“Hm? What is it my sweet girl?” her voice traveling through your ears, making you wetter by the way she spoke. “Feels s’good ohmygoddd” – “I know, you make me feel just as good- fuck”, your exchange cut off by how horribly sloppy the situation was, you were horribly wet. Embarrassing actually. But you couldn’t help it, she looked so good. With her hair down, a few strands sticking to her forehead as her pretty lips parted to let out the cutest and muffled sounds. She looked so good, her muscular arms flexing as she holds herself up, continuing to massage her pussy against yours.

Less than two minutes later you feel your orgasm approaching, as juices bursted out of you so quickly, you could no longer tell which belonged to you.

Caitlin licks her lips as she sees your face contorting with pleasure as she helps you ride out your high, as you throw your head back and groan.

“Good job, baby.” Caitlin says between breaths as she climbed off your shared bed, walking over to the dresser to steady yourself. You laid flat on the bed, reminiscing on the best orgasm of your life, staring at your beautiful girlfriend. The brunette gathers her breath, and turns to face you, her goddess-like build flooding your line of sight. She smirks, before walking over back to the bed as she takes your hand, kisses it gently, and smiles back at you.

“Such a good girl for me, you did so well” she soothes, as you roll over closer to her. She climbs into the bed fully and holds you in her arms, as you laid there in silence, resting your head on her chest. You lean in for a kiss, as the brunette mumbles out a tired “I love you”, you giggle in between kisses,

“I love you more.”

what it finna play?? WOAHHHH !!!! probably my favorite nsfw/suggestive fic to date. Chefs kiss ! As always , tysm for reading 💌

[inawickedlittletown]

Oliver's road trip post made me think about what if after the break up Buck, instead of baking, just tells Bobby he needs some time off and he just packs up his Jeep and starts driving.

It's a little like when he left Pennsylvania except that this time he's going to come back...he just needs the time. He just can't be in LA where he's just constantly reminded of Tommy.

So he's out there camping and sleeping in his car and sometimes getting a hotel room. Along the way he finally starts to think about what it means for him to be bisexual. He stops at LGBTQ spaces and is even tempted - since he is single - to hook up with someone. He doesn't. Maybe he picks up a book to read when he stops places and maybe he meets people that give him perspective. They hear Buck's story and tell him where he went wrong with Tommy.

He winds up at some point picking up a doggie friend because a stray just started following him around and so at least he isn't alone. He names him Pilot.

He winds up extending the trip a couple of times and Bobby doesn't mind. Not like Buck ever took time off before so he has plenty of PTO accumulated. Along the way Buck does help some people out...he can't not. It's who he is.

When he talks to Eddie he doesn't ask about Tommy. Maddie tries to make him come back early by telling him that she's pregnant. Eddie tells him he might not be in LA when Buck returns, he's thinking about moving back to Texas.

Maybe Buck ends up all the way in Pennsylvania and he goes home to his parents. They think his dog is menace but they let Buck bring it inside the house anyway and Buck doesn't stay long but he also tells them about Tommy and they tell him he needs to just go home already.

He makes the drive back to LA, stopping at places and sight seeing and even visiting old friends. Maybe he even runs into Abby and so they get talking and Buck brings up Tommy and Abby finds the whole thing hilarious and then she shares a little about Tommy...stuff that he never told Buck but that he'd told Abby because they were engaged at one point so she had known him pretty well. And Abby maybe even admits that she turned a blind eye to who Tommy really was because she wanted the happy ending.

It gives Buck a lot to think about on the drive back and then when he gets to LA, he doesn't go to his apartment. He goes straight to Tommy's house.

Buck is a mess. He's been driving for hours and the last shower he took was at a run down motel. He hasn't shaved in days. His car smells like dog and dirty laundry and take-out. Actually, it's also flashing a whole bunch of lights at him and it's started to make a weird sound.

Tommy is shocked to see him, even more shocked to see the dog, and he's definitely concerned by the noise he heard the car making.

Buck tells him they need to talk and Tommy just nods and Buck tells him about the trip and about everything he discovered about himself and then he talks about his parents and then he talks about Abby and then he talks about Tommy and he talks about the two of them and he asks Tommy for a second chance.

Then, he asks Tommy if he wants a dog because technically speaking his apartment is no pets allowed.

Tommy says yes to both and then also demands Buck stay because Tommy wants to look at his car in the morning.

They eat dinner together and talk more after they give the dog a bath and Buck gets a shower. Buck feels like the whole thing has been too easy. When Buck asks Tommy what he's been up to the whole time Tommy just sighs.

"Waiting for you, apparently."

Because as it turns out, Tommy was just a little late to catch him before he left and then he figured Buck would come back. It gave him his own time to think and yeah some nights he worried about Buck out there on his own and he wondered if maybe he wasn't alone. He hated that he had no right to be mad if Buck did find someone else, but he couldn't help the jealousy that rose up and he couldn't help how angry he was at himself.

But he waited. He let himself have a tiny bit of hope because he'd realized within days of walking out of the loft that he'd made a huge mistake.

That night, they both take some time to reacquaint themselves with each other's bodies and they wake up tangled up with a dog whining for food. Neither of them would have it any other way.

[littlefireball]

Please can you do a San x Reader period sex like f**k away the pain. Pretty pretty please. But she's a squirter and doesn't know it. Nor has she ever had sex on her period so she thinks he will be disgusted etc?

~🐶~

Okay!! Here you go😎

ᴄꜱ|ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ (ᴍ)

ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ ꜱᴀɴ x ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ (ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱʜᴏᴛ)|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴏʀᴄᴇᴅ ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴀɢᴇ||ꜱᴀɴ ʜᴀꜱ ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.6ᴋ

Fk away the pain series

Masterlist

As a tool for political marriage, one cannot anticipate affection, nor should one expect genuine concern from a spouse. Were it not for the strategic interests binding the two nations, this man would be entirely irrelevant to your existence. His daily companions are hardly the epitome of refinement, and witnessing him engage in earnest labor is a rare occurrence.

More often than not, he is either indulging in drink or entangled with various women, showing little regard for the responsibilities of royalty. Externally, you are burdened with the fallout from his indiscretions, while internally, you grapple with an overwhelming array of duties.

When frustration envelops you, you often escape to the garden beneath the night sky, relishing the tranquil beauty of the deserted space. Although you initially sought solitude, you cannot seem to shake off San, your husband’s knight. His stern presence has become a point of annoyance for your spouse, prompting him to assign San to you. Initially, you were indifferent to his company, yet there are times when his unwavering attention feels a bit stifling.

"Your highness, you drink too much." San once more cautious you against excessive drinking, emphasizing its detrimental effects on your health.

"It's okay, San. I'm not drunk. See, the moon is beautiful." As you lean back, your head cradles in your hands, you admire the luminous moon, a soft breeze caressing your face as you swing. "Hey, San. Push me." "Yes, Your Highness." A resigned sigh escapes San's lips, for his only recourse is to comply with your wishes and ensure your safety.

The enchanting aroma that surrounds you captivates him, causing him to gulp nervously whenever he draws near. He's powerless to resist. You radiate beauty, courage, and intelligence, surpassing every girl he's encountered. As you lean your head against the headrest, your head brushes against San's stomach with every gentle pull of the swing. Oops, something bad pops up in his mind.

"Hey, San. Do you like someone?" Your words make him pause, hesitating for a moment before he resumes pushing the swing. "Your Highness, why do you suddenly bring this up?" As you open your eyes, you catch his anxious gaze. "It's time for you to think about marriage." "I…I'm…not ready for that." You raise an eyebrow and gently hold his face, which he tries to shy away from, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red. "Or do you prefer boys? That boy named Wooyoung?" "No, no! I like girls!" He grips your hands tightly, his nerves overwhelming him, fearful that you might have misunderstood his intentions.

"Kidding." A playful smirk crosses your face, a rare pause in your hectic schedule, and he's completely enchanted. He might not remember the exact moment he fell for you, but one thing is clear: he will do everything for you, no matter what.

"So, you have feelings for someone?" He bites his lip and nods slightly. "Oh, that girl must be lucky. Who is she?" "Your Highness, do you really think she's lucky?" "Why do you ask?" "Because… she was forced into a marriage with a man who didn't love her, burdened with all the royal responsibilities that were never meant for her." You release your hold on his face, the realization dawning that he's speaking of someone you know all too well─yourself.

"Maybe you may think she's not lucky." Lowering your head, you clench your fist, stammer. "But…I think she's lucky because she has someone who likes her." Both of you fall into silence, only the sound of breathing can be heard. His face remains hidden from view, leaving you uncertain if your words are causing him any distress.

San, your devoted knight, holds a unique place in your heart. In moments of peril, he is always the first to shield you, to rescue you, and to reassure you of your safety. Unlike others who seem preoccupied with the life of your so-called husband, San's loyalty runs deeper.

Initially, you believed his actions stemmed solely from duty, yet they often blur the lines of propriety. Who else would allow a princess to rest her head on his shoulder, shedding tears into the night? Who would clasp her hand in a moment of vulnerability? He understands he should maintain distance, yet he finds himself unable to resist the pull of closeness.

"I…I wanna go back." Silence. "S…San?" As you pivot, he unexpectedly envelops your eyes with his large hand, leaning in to press his lips against yours. His warm breath lingers on your skin, mingling with his gentle caress, catching you completely off guard. Time seems to stand still; the distant chirping of birds and the gentle breeze fade away, leaving only the soft pop of his departure from your lips.

"I… I beg your pardon…" He withdraws his hand, avoiding your gaze. Words elude you, the whirlwind of emotions overwhelming your senses. "N-nothing…" You stammer, the feelings swelling within you struggling to escape the tight confines of your throat, leaving you with only that single utterance. "Just go back." Your eyes meet his, filled with a profound disappointment, extinguishing the spark that once ignited within him.

"I shall summon the maid to escort Your Highness to your chamber. I deeply regret my actions." San turns away, leaving you in solitude upon the swing.

-------

Not long ago, an exquisite invitation graced your presence, beckoning you to a lavish dinner party hosted by the illustrious Kingdom of the Far West, in honor of the joyous arrival of the king and queen's precious baby girl. Should your rapport with the royal family be strong, attending this splendid affair would be a matter of course. However, the kingdom's secluded location presents a considerable journey, and while this is a minor inconvenience, the true challenge lies in the discomfort of your period pain.

"Goodness…" A sharp hiss escapes your lips as the agony in your stomach intensifies. The painkillers you've been relying on seem utterly ineffective now, as if they've lost their power over time. Perhaps your body has grown accustomed to their presence, rendering them useless in your battle against this relentless discomfort.

"Your Highness." The sound of a knock at the door draws your attention, and San's icy voice echoes in your mind. Ever since that fateful day, a chasm has formed between you, with him deliberately steering clear of you. You yearn to reach out and clarify things, but your hectic schedule keeps you from doing so. Frustration wells up inside you, and you can't help but loathe yourself for it.

True to form, he had the limousine door swung wide open, patiently waiting for you to slide into the seat. You stifled the unease bubbling inside and offered him a smile, yet he feigned ignorance, as if he hadn't noticed. Internally, you berated yourself for being so distant in your reaction. The truth was, you were at a loss for words at that moment. Despite the mutual affection between you, the differences in your identities loomed large, creating an undeniable barrier.

San sits across from you, deliberately averting his eyes or shutting them to escape your gaze. A yearning to engage him stirs within you, yet the weight of your anguish holds you captive. The constricting embrace of the seatbelt heightens your discomfort, prompting you to release it, hoping that San may not notice it.

"Kindly secure your seat belt, Your Highness." "Blast it," you mutter, prompting San to arch an eyebrow at your unexpected cursing. "It is for your protection, Your Highness." "I'm not feeling well, okay? I don't want to buckle it." Your sharp retort takes him by surprise, as it is uncommon to witness your ire, save for matters concerning your so-called husband or during your period.

"Would you care for some pain relief, Your Highness?" "It's useless." You sulk, a blend of annoyance and delight washing over you as he finally engages in conversation. "However, you insist on securing your seat belt first, despite its discomfort." "No way." You fold your arms defiantly, resembling a petulant child, prompting San to exhale deeply as he approaches you, the limousine stops.

"What are you doing?" "Assist you to fasten the seat belt, Your Highness." Just as his hands move toward the seat belt, the limousine starts up, causing his balance to falter and his entire form to lurch forward into you. His face falls into the crook of your neck with both of your chest pressing against each other, causing blushes creeping up your faces and something hard sinks between your thighs.

The moment he hits you hard makes you crave for more, wanting him to collide with you harder and deeper until you reach your limitations. You can't help but doubt if it is normal to be horny during your period.

"I apolo…" Just as he prepares to depart, you draw him into a fervent embrace, your breath a soft whisper against his ear. "Do you recall the vow you made when you pledged yourself as my knight?" "I would move mountains for you, come what may." Your fingers curl into a fist, the pressure of your nails biting into your skin, leaving crimson impressions on your palm. "Is that promise still binding today?" "The vow endures for eternity, Your Highness." "Then do me a favor."

You draw him into an ardent kiss, surrendering to the moment without hesitation. His eyes flash with astonishment, yet he swiftly gathers himself, allowing his eyelids to flutter shut. With a deft motion, he slips his hand beneath you, pivoting your form to nestle you upon his lap as he takes his place on the seat.

"I've loved you for so long." He whispers against your chest, placing a tender kiss before rising to lock eyes with you. You cradle his face, bestowing a delicate kiss upon his lips. "Me too. I'm sorry for that day." As your words resonate, tears glisten in his eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. Without hesitation, he closes the gap, capturing your lips in a kiss that is both tender and fervent, his tongue dancing with yours, leaving a trail of warmth that drips down your chin.

You both part from each other, unbuckling San's belt to free his cock, latching back on each other to a passionate kiss. Gently tucking your hair behind your ears, his lips meet yours before moving down to your neck, inhaling his favourite scent while leaving a trail of red marks on that. "Others may see." "I want to show them." Giggled, you wrap your arms around his board shoulder and slightly lift up yourself to let him slide down your pants and underwear.

"I'm on my period…" "It doesn't matter cuz I love everything about you." He sucks on your collarbone after a tender kiss. "You are exaggerating." Smile at your light patting on his chest, he takes out a condom from his pocket and tears the package by his teeth. "You have it?" "Just be prepared for the unpredictable, just like now." His strong arms move to your thighs, pushing you up to aim at his arched member. "San…" You stop him by gripping his shoulder. "It's dirty…" "I said I love everything about you. It's okay, princess." Pulling you closer to him, you slowly sink down after he is wrapped up.

It is your first time. Everything is overwhelming once his hard tip thrust into your emptiness, rub against your wall deliciously. "Gosh…" Your head falls into his neck, shutting your eyes tightly. "It's okay, just take it slow." He murmurs, leaving a broken kiss on your neck as a comfort. Thanks to your blood, adjusting his huge size is not as difficult as you imagine. He starts to thrust upward as you grip his shoulder tightly, stopping each time for a while after another push.

"You're so deep." You struggle with your breath with an open mouth even if it is not intense at all. The period pain seemed to be hard for you to enjoy. "Let me help you, babe." His arm wraps around your small frame, laying you back against the seat without pulling out. "Is it better?" You respond with a nod as he plants a soft kiss on your lips, a warm smile gracing his face. One hand steadies himself on the seat while the other rests on your waist, sliding in and out at a steady pace. You tilt your head back, and he showers your skin with kisses, leaving a trail of marks that declare to the world that you belong to him.

"He doesn't deserve you." He confesses while continuing to roll his hips into you, making your back rub against the seat from his movement. "I wanna claim you as mine if I could. I won't let you down, won't let you do all the work." Guiding your palm to his lips, he gives peck on it while locking his eyes with you.

"It's enough if you're on my side." You respond. He claims you into a deep kiss while drawing his hips, shoving your spot as he pushes in. You let out a soft whimper and wrap your legs around his waist, allowing him to slide deeper. The pain fades away and is replaced by endless pleasure. Both of your moaning become so loud but the driver can't hear anything because of the barrier between the driver and passenger.

"I'm so close." His thrusting becomes fast enough to ruin you, numbness runs throughout both of your bodies. He let out a low growl and bite on your neck, the pain and the pleasure push you over the edge. "San…san!I'm…oh my god.." You can't even form a complete sentence and his name is the only thing in your mind. Stomach tightened, something is about to burst out and you have no idea how to describe it. Only moaning and screaming can vest the overwhelming sensation.

"Oh fuck!" With a loud cursing, you squirt all and wet San's pants. "Oh my god, I am sorry." "Goodness, you squirted." He chuckles and his cock twitches from your warmth. "So close, babe." With a quick thrust, he finally cums in the condom and rests his forehead on yours, huffs. "Ride me next time." You pat his chest and giggle, slowly calm down from the excitement.

"Let's clean up." He helps you dress up and clean the seat to ensure there is no evidence left in the limousine, apart from his pants. "Hmm…maybe you can change?" "But my luggage is in another car. He caresses your head as a comfort. "It's okay, it will dry later on."

"Just…" He leans closer to rub against your chin with his thumb. "Tell me if you have to cum as I won't be gentle next time." You blink several times as if you can't believe what you heard.

"How can you say this without feeling shy?"

"Well." He grabs your chin so that you turn to face him.

"Isn't you to ask me to fuck you first?"

"I didn't say that!"

"But you said do you a favor."

"Shut up or I'll throw you out of the car." "Are you willing?" You pout as you know you never want.

"Kidding, cutie." He pecked on your lips, a dimple plays on his face as he smiles. "Even if you throw me out of the car, I'll find you and stick with you. You can't get rid of me."

"Is it a horror movie?" "No, no. It's a romantic movie." He cups your face as he leans in to kiss you. A soft moan escapes your lips, prompting him to deepen the kiss, his tongue intertwining with yours in a dance of desire.

At that moment, you just want the time to freeze.

[burquillos]

diluven misses you and so to do i miss it 😔

Will you accept this drabble I have in my notes:

"Don't you like the bard?"

"Whether I like the bard or not hardly accounts for whether I should pursue him or not."

"Actually, I think liking the bard is all the reason you need to pursue him."

Diluc let's out a tired sigh. He doesn't want to have to explain Venti's kind of secret alter ego to Kaeya of all people. He's exhausted. He wants to go home.

But things have been going well with Kaeya lately and he was happy when they started opening up to each other again on this particular night. Well, up until Kaeya opened up the conversation about his love life. Kaeya had always pestered him about it, even as a kid. Both him and his father, ever the romantics.

Though annoyed, he appreciates the sentiment because he knows it comes from a place of genuine concern. Keaya wants reassurance that he will be fine and that someone will take care of him and love him even when him and his father aren't there. Knowing Kaeya, not wanting him to be alone is deeply valuable. However...

"It's complicated" Diluc scowls.

Kaeya leans on his forearm on the counter. He looks at Diluc, unamused.

"You like him. You obviously want to be with him. And from the looks of it he likes you back. What's so complicated about that?"

Diluc doesn't respond but he can feel a slight tingling on his fingertips and his cheeks as he stands there tense and frozen.

Kaeya closes his eyes in contemplation, "Ah..I see."

"What?"

"Master Ragnvindr of the Dawn Winery must not be seen engaging in romantic affairs with a mere commoner. How tragic-"

"No."

It was out before he knew it. Said too fast and too defensively to be considered casual. Like letting a part of himself accidentally slip from his tight grasp.

Kaeya couldn't have been more wrong. Venti is far from a mere commoner. His identity as Barbatos is... holy and powerful. The kind of being who can move mountains, literally and figuratively. His whole life he tried to be worthy of only two people and that included his late father and Barbatos.

But even that pales in comparison to Venti himself; kind and compassionate, cunning when he needs to be, he brings joy and laughter to the people of Mondsatdt with his songs. He listens to his people and guides them into action, never hesitating to reach out to others, even a person like him who has built walls around himself.

Venti has a way of seeing through him but has never once used it against him. He keeps the hidden, little pieces of Diluc tucked away and keeps it safe.

He wants to believe that there is something special about that. That that kind of treatment is something Venti gives to him and him alone.

But he knows Venti's love is grand and extends far and wide over Mondsatdt and its citizens. He knows he's nothing more but a speck among countless others that recieve that kind of godly love from him.

As a protector of Mondsatdt, he cannot afford to be selfish with Venti's love, not when Mondstadt needs it more than him. He is quite well off in terms of status and wealth after all. Honestly, Diluc is quite content to love from afar.

In the end, all he could mutter was a soft "He's too good for me..."

Kaeya barks out a laugh, slamming his hand on the table and leaning back. "VENTI!?" he wipes a tear from his eye "You're saying this about Venti?! The drunkard?? The guy who regularly schemes his way for some apples and booze??"

"You know what I mean."

"No. I don't"

"Well I'm not tired enough to have this conversation."

"Fair enough."

Kaeya leaves a few coins on the counter then stands up to leave. Before he could exit the door, he turns back to Diluc. "For the record, he said the same thing about you being too good for him." Finally, he leaves.

Diluc is left staring at the door. He can't quite believe that statement. He's not looking down on himself or anything, he knows he's quite sought after, he even uses that as an advantage when negotiating sometimes.

It's just that, compared to Venti who shines brightly and whose smile literally lights up the room, he feels like such a downer in comparison.

Once upon a time in his life, he might've had the same smile too, but he's changed since then. He's not the golden child with a loving family running around Mondstadt fulfilling his dreams anymore. His fire has long ceased to be kind and burns with rage and vindication instead. He feels as if he can't have that smile back. That if Venti stands next to him and gives him a little grin he can't smile back with the warmth and kindness he deserves. That all Venti would see is a broken man.

He feels too bare with Venti and that is something he cherishes deeply and also something he dreads.

[lightningonatether]

Why c!endersmile were actually friends

ALTERNATIVELY TITLED: my crazy thesis on two bad bitches with not a single moment of screentime fueled purely by my own insanity

ALTERNATIVELY alternatively titled: to all loreheads please be nice i dont usually lorepost. feel free to engage though

So my return is courtesy of litchi, who mentioned c!endersmile like once a month ago, and got me thinking about them so hard I couldn't just walk away.

Namely, litchi reminded me of a few theories I have concerning c!endersmiles relationship, that I developed back when i was watching the SMP live. This might make my recollection of some events a little fuzzy, but everything should be canon compliant cause I was thinking about all this as I watched.

I was already watching ranboo pretty regularly at the point the prison arc started, I cant resist a really weird guy with horrible debilitating anxiety. I already thought the whole hearing dreams voice in his head was really interesting, but as the prison arc evolved it became clear that ranboos relationship with dream wasnt just some hallucination inside ranboos head and actually had some substance.

My theory really started to develop into what it is now with the explosions on the prison roof which led to the lockdown and tommys death; these were confirmed to be set by ranboo in his enderwalk state. He was one of the only people online at the time, ranboo found tnt in his inventory afterwards, and I think dream also told sam he knew ranboo did it at some point, although I can't find the exact stream.

At that point it was obvious that enderwalking ranboo held a different set of beliefs, alliances, and likely more memories than the "awake" ranboo we saw most of the time on streams, and was acting against amnesiac ranboos wishes. The explosions above the prison along with the reveal that ranboo had been regularly visiting dream in prison confirmed that dream and ender!ranboo were some sort of allies.

At the time, my assumption was that ranboo had simply made an attempted prison break. It wouldnt be a stretch to assume, if ranboo had visited regularly, that he would have noticed the poor conditions and tried to break his ally out. However, after the confirmation of the staged finale, and a better look at cdreams motivations(wanting to provide protection for punz, separating himself very publicly from his only known ally to keep them safe) the idea that enderwalk ranboo, an ally of dreams, would go against dreams explicit wishes to stay locked in that prison began making less sense.

It would only make sense if either:

enderwalk never knew about the plan or

enderwalk knew about the plan but went against it anyway

1 is a very tempting explanation. c!dream rarely lets anyone close. even punz, who knew the plan intimately, wasn't aware of dreams true motivations to bring the server back to a peaceful time before conflict. but..... it didnt sit right with me.

Two reasons for this: I know some people may have stopped watching/never watched ranboo lore, but towards the end of the prison arc, ranboo began seeing flashes of "lessons" appear on screen. These lessons all had that utilitarian and paranoid feel a lot of dreams actions/reasoning have, like "dont trust anybody"(paraphrasing, thats just what i remember the core of that message being) or "never hesitate to gain a favor from someone, you can use it to get something from them later". anyone remember technos favor to dream? It was heavily implied these lessons were meant to be from dream, directed at c!enderwalk. This would mean the two spent a significant amount of time together. not only that, dream was sharing his *life philosophy* with ender!ranboo. thats not just something dream would share with anyone, and implies a close allyship at the least. its almost like he was teaching a pupil. yeah, sure, some of his lessons were a little fucked up and weird in that dream sort of way, but he was looking out for the kid. and it seems that enderwalk wasnt hesitant to act on those lessons either. he promised to keep a shulker safe for foolish, gaining a favor, and didnt sign a single one of those prison visitation waivers, on top of sam discovering they were corrupted into enderian when he checked LMAO.

This alone would be enough to persuade me enderwalk HAD to have been let in on the plan, at least so he wouldnt cause any problems (such as trying to get his ally out of prison).

but the other reason is... ranboos stated philosophy against conflict. he doesnt like sides, he wishes they wouldn't exist. I remember watching a stream and nearly jumping out of my seat when he told chat he just wished the server could just be one big happy family! because that is nearly word for word what a bunch of loreheads were saying about dreams motivations at the time(and now obviously lmao). if we keep in mind their contact for those "lessons", ranboos visits to dream in prison, AND the fact that dreams and ranboos motivations coincide on a level even Above dream and punzs(punz seemed to have been unaware of and also not particularly motivated by dreams wish for peace) i cant really imagine dream not letting this guy in on the plan.

which leaves us with 2) ranboo tried to break dream out against dreams wishes.

Maybe ranboo was just an ally and chickened out after he saw dreams mistreatment in prison and went against the plan, but... dream missed him after sam barred him from visiting. he asked sapnap to deliver a note to ranboo(just a smiley face, likely with the hopes of triggering an enderwalk) despite fearing for his ally punz enough to lock himself in prison. it feels reminicent to how dream sounds when he comments on george not visiting him once. like he missed a friend despite trying so hard to separate himself from the ones he'd had.

Maybe ranboo tried to break in because he saw a friend being mistreated, and couldn't leave the plan stand.

And that kind of makes sense doesn't it? that dream, someone whos paranoid about how peoples connection to him puts them in danger, would choose an amnesiac who spends most of their time terrified of dream, and wouldnt remember any of his plans or their friendship to use against either of them in the first place?

[yuurivoice]

Saw a goofball post about ASMR Roleplay, romantic plots, narratives, etc. and so on.

Let me share some of my philosophy with you as someone in this game for 7 years, 150k subs on YouTube, and who turned this into a lucrative business for himself. I say all that not to flex, but to assure you that maybe I know a little bit about what I'm talking about.

Audio Roleplays, ASMR Roleplay, etc and so forth is not some sort of rigid, strict thing. If you believe that content in this niche has to adhere to strict rules, structure, and expectations, you've already entered into this with strange expectations because there is such a vast array of ways you can go about presenting this content.

Some of it is slice of life moments in time with an assumed relationships between character and listener. Before narrative audios started to pick up steam, or rather, a handful of folks (myself included) developed followings centered on original characters and stories, the vast majority of creators in this space were just doing snippets of experiences. And, in case you were unaware, that approach is wildly successful. Boyfriend Experiences, audio smut, etc. has a much wider appeal at this time because a listener can drop right in and enjoy it.

If you have somehow deluded yourself into thinking that every audio has to adhere to strict narrative rules, be defined by conflict, or things happening beyond whatever the vibe calls for, you're willfully putting yourself and the niche in a box. Which is fine, but seeing people piss and moan about it is strange.

My approach has been to blend narrative series along with one-shots. One-shots serve as super self indulgent audios that aren't tied to the narrative and allow listeners to engage with some of their favorite characters they fell in love with in the narrative without furthering the plot.

Sometimes I play the game, explore tropes and clichés that are popular for the sake of taking a crack at it. Because it brings in new listeners who then become fans of my narrative work and creates genuine supporters of my passion projects.

And ya know? It fucking works. It works really well. I can drop a very straightforward, stripped down comfort audio with Alphonse like I did today and move listeners to tears. And then we can continue on with BitterSweet when I'm good and ready. It keeps the channel running, keeps the audience engaged, and keeps me working.

The bigger point here is that creators should be able to approach their work as they see fit, without concerns about goofballs with strange expectations and standards dictating to them what is and is not valid. You wanna know what's valid? Creating shit that you like, that the people who support you like. However you achieve that is all good in my book.

Having some goofy ass superiority complex about how people play pretend with pretty voices is strange behavior. I'm proud that my community has never flung that kind of nonsense around, and I'm speaking on it to affirm that kind of stance for the folks who rock with me.

If you're a listener who has recently stumbled into this niche, I implore you to explore, listen to others, find what you like and enjoy it because you enjoy it. There are countless people making audio content these days and there's no wrong way to do it, never has been. There's something for everyone, and if someone tries to tell you otherwise, be wary.

I'm not about negative nonsense, not about tribalism or putting down one person over another. Lift up your faves and share why you appreciate them and their style. But petulant bickering and shitting on others because of something as trivial as audio content? Nahhhh. If I catch anyone spouting nonsense like that in my name, I try and snuff it out as fast as possible because that's not how my shit is built.

If you are someone who fucks with me and my work but has had some opinions like that, I implore you to chill because none of this has ever been that serious. I want people to enjoy what they want to enjoy because for the love of fuck, life is too short to try and grandstand over this silly little niche. Or please get all the way away from me and my people.

Deuces. ✌️

[sitp-recs]

i bet you've seen this one plenty of times before, but:

can you rec some drarry fics where jealousy is an important motif? it can be infidelity if they're an established couple, or just getting with someone else while the two of them are dancing around one another. would be great to see recs both where harry is jealous and where draco is jealous. i prefer a happy ending, but i'll be grateful either way.

since i'm here let me also say i admire what you do, your incredible ability to recall and sort through so many stories. this fandom is lucky to have you! <3

Hello friend! Thank you for the kind words, I really appreciate it ❤️ here are some fics centered on jealousy. I did a few other lists for this trope over the years, you can find them here, here and here.

Jealous Harry:

Hourglass Heart by @bixgirl1 (E, 5k)

It only happened once — depending on how Harry counted.

Utterly Yours by @lazywonderlvnd (E, 6.5k)

Draco gets back at Harry for his late nights as an Auror by flirting with the new Arithmancy professor. Harry's not usually the jealous type, but he has his moments.

Intention by @the-sinking-ship (E, 7k)

Harry really ought to listen to whatever Ron is saying, but it becomes impossible to focus when a familiar figure across the pub curls his fingers around another man’s tie. And when that man leans in with a wolfish smile, Harry sees red, and all he can think is mine.

on the divine agony of longing by @flimsi (E, 25k)

Speaking to Draco is like poking a beehive - and Harry is a glutton for punishment. In which Harry makes some serious blunders and then tries to fix it. Somehow.

Around You Moves by ignatiustrout (E, 29k)

Harry knew Draco was gay when he invited him to move in. He’s never had a problem with this. So why does he feel so weird about Draco bringing men home all of a sudden?

Two to Lie and One to Listen by @fluxweeed (E, 84k)

It’s weird when Hermione announces that she and Ron have broken up. It’s weirder when this is followed by the revelation that she’s already moved on—and the new object of her affections is Draco Malfoy.

this heaven of mud by @garagepaperback (E, 94k)

A love story told in two somewhat unreliable parts, over six years. Featuring secret shagging, to friends, to the 'how is it fair for someone to say your name like that' sort of friends, to, finally, someone you could call a home.

Grounds for Divorce by Tepre (E, 122k)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

Jealous Draco:

Packing the Flat by marguerite_26 (E, 6k)

Months after their explosive break-up, Draco insists Harry return to their flat to remove his belongings.

Don't Stop It Before It Begins by mischieviolet (E, 19k)

“I don’t understand how this is of any concern to you, Malfoy,” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest. Draco blinked at the use of his last name, something that Harry only used with him in jest these days. “I’m merely spending time with my Auror partner, who is from another country, and has no one here. I would do the same if it were you.” “It’s not me though, is it?” Draco all but shouted, unable to stop himself.

The Partner, The Rival and The Very Big Case by oceaxe (E, 24k)

When Harry and Nott are paired up to go undercover as fake boyfriends, Draco is disappointed not to get the assignment. It's just professional jealousy that's making him feel so upset. Obviously. He's engaged to be married to Astoria, after all.

(The Piece) I was Missing All Along by lauren3210 (E, 30k)

Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way. But when something comes along and threatens to take all that away, Draco has to decide what it is he really wants, and just how hard he's going to work to get it.

Make Me a Headline (I Want to Be That Bold) by @dictacontrion (E, 31k)

Draco never expected to see Harry doing that again. Especially with someone else, in a grainy photograph that's landed on his desk one Monday morning.

Nights With You by @the-sinking-ship (E, 58k)

Draco is mortified when moments prior to departing for the most anticipated destination wedding of the year, he is cruelly dumped. But when he learns that Harry Potter has, at long last, split with his horrible boyfriend, Draco is certain his luck has changed.

[imaginesbymonika]

Futile Devices | Part 5

Pairing: Noel Gallagher x childhood-best friend reader

Plot: There's nothing quite like realizing your feelings once it's too late. But what would life be without a speck of hope?

read previous part

(1998)

Noel who is sitting next to Nicole leans back in his chair and annoyingly crosses his arms in front of his chest. Usually, he loved the Brits, truly. It’s his favorite award show of the year (even if he’d never admit that to anyone). Nonetheless, this year even though he tries his absolute best to have a good time and enjoy himself he just couldn't do it. No matter how much alcohol he drinks.

His eyes wander the table. His brother Liam is filling his girlfriend’s champagne glass to the brim and giggles like a schoolboy when some of it spills on the white tablecloth. The blonde in his arm scolds him, but cannot conceal the smile that materializes on her red-painted lips. He sees how Nicole yawns, before her hand moves to gently caress his shoulder. Something is missing. And he just can’t put his finger on it.

He wants to say something to her when he catches a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. A familiar silhouette. Pursued by a feeling in his chest that he used to be able to put a word on. Noel turns his head and sees you.

Three tables behind their own is Blur’s. You are sitting next to Damon, wearing a gorgeous silver satin dress. Considering, how all the other people at the table are wearing somewhat more informal clothing you look like something straight out of a magazine.

His blue eyes travel down to your hand that’s intertwined with Damon’s, and when he notices a (huge fucking) diamond on your ring finger he swallows thickly. He thought you loathed wearing jewelry. His head quickly turns back to his table.

„Are you okay?“, Nicole asks, her tone concerned before his gaze drifts through the room. When it stops on you she lets out an understanding sigh:” It was all over Daily Mail.”

“What?”

“Their engagement.”, she explains, bringing the glass up to her lips:” Damon gave an interview on how she’s the love of his life or whatever. Expensive fucking ring too. I always guessed Blur didn’t sell that much, but well…”

Noel stares at his drink. He wonders if he’ll be invited to the wedding, but then again you didn’t phone him to tell him about the engagement in the first place. He wanted to be angry- at Damon, angrier than he had already been. Yet if he was being ethical about it he couldn’t be. If someone was to vilify for this whole fiasco it has to be him. He had shoved you away. Nicole wasn’t his best friend, fuck this.

“Are you having a good time?”, a voice from next to him asks and Noel simply nods. In reality, all he wanted to do was cry. Something was missing, and that something was you.

[kokoch4n3l]

DEAD GIRL'S BEACH࿐ྂ KUROKAWA IZANA x f!oc x SANO MANJIRO

TWELVE — his dead girl's beach

"Guarded and evasive, Mr. Kurokawa deflects introspection, avoiding confrontation of his inner demons. This avoidance hints at his discomfort with facing vulnerabilities and traumas, as he prioritizes projecting strength and control."—KANEKO MAYA'S ROUGH NOTES ON K.I

chapter summary: Mikey thinks about the past while Maya tries to remember what she missed. Izana helps Kisaki choose an engagement ring.

warnings: dark content 18+, self-loathing, mental health issues, mentions of scars, mentions of burns, drug addictions, drug use/misuse, withdrawal mentions, mental breakdowns, emotional manipulation, stockholm syndrome, past noncon, infantilization, possessiveness, emotional incest, mommy issues, dehumanization, oral sex(f receiving), cunnilingus, fingering, implied multiple orgasms, slight hair pulling(m receiving), praise kink, dacryphilia, dom/sub undertones, overstimulation, aftercare, slight ooc!Kisaki, draken & og toman slander, mental health issues, depression, vomiting, toxic and unhealthy relationships, implied emotional abuse, past character death, past picture taking, implied voyeurism, scars, memory loss, kissing, smut, handjob, piv, no prep, dissociation, creampie, use of guns, blood and gore, depiction of corpses, major character death

word count: 20 446

masterlist | previous | chapter 13

How do you put yourself back together? After breaking apart over and over, how do you put yourself back together? Maya has done it a bunch of times but...

What do you do when someone's taken a few of your shattered pieces with them?

It's not just her own brokenness she has to contend with, it's the pieces of herself that others have stolen away. Mikey and Izana, each wielding their own brand of manipulation and control, have taken parts of her that she may never get back. With a heavy heart, Maya realizes that she can't simply piece herself back together as she has done in the past. Those missing fragments, those stolen pieces of her soul, leave behind a void that cannot be filled by her own efforts alone. With a heavy heart, Maya realizes that she can't simply piece herself back together as she has done in the past. Those missing fragments, those stolen pieces of her soul, leave behind a void that cannot be filled by her own efforts alone.

The love she had for Chifuyu once seemed like a beacon of light in the darkness, a source of strength and solace amidst the chaos of her life. But now, tainted by the knowledge that his feelings may not match her own, she wonders if returning to him would only deepen the wounds that already mar her fragile heart. Would his embrace bring her the comfort she so desperately craves, or would it serve as a painful reminder of all that she has lost?

And what of the invisible scars that mar her body, each one a testament to the pain and suffering she has endured? The burn on her back may have healed, but the memory of the agony she endured at Izana and Mikey's hands remains etched into her very being. Will time erase the pain, or will it linger like the scar on her shoulder, a constant reminder of the violence and betrayal that has marked her existence?

Alone in the dimly lit master bedroom, Maya sits on the edge of the bed, her mind consumed by a storm of emotions. The silence weighs heavily upon her, a suffocating blanket that smothers any semblance of peace. In the midst of her turmoil, she is unaware of the faint creak as the door swings open, admitting a sliver of light into the shadowy room. Izana steps inside, his presence felt before he even speaks. His smile, devoid of warmth, watches her like a predator observing its prey. "Hey bunny," he says softly, his voice dripping with false concern. "Are you alright?"

She looks up, startled by his sudden appearance, her heart sinking as she meets his gaze. His eyes gleam with amusement, a silent mockery of her struggles. She forces a nod, unable to muster the strength to speak in the face of his calculated indifference. Izana moves closer, his smile widening as he takes a seat beside her. His touch, though seemingly gentle, sends a shiver down her spine, a cold reminder of his true nature lurking beneath the facade of concern. "You don't have to face this alone," he says, his voice honeyed with deception. "I'm here for you, bunny. Always."

Maya doesn't pull away from his touch, nor does she say anything. "hm... looks like you need to be taken care of more than me, bunny" He says with a small laugh

Izana moves himself so he's sitting with his back against the headboard and pillows. He gestures for her to come closer. Without hesitation, Maya crawls over and sits across his lap comfortably. She nestles closer to him, her head resting against his chest. It's a moment of vulnerability, of allowing herself to be vulnerable in his presence. Izana's lips curve into a satisfied smile as he feels her relax against him. He revels in the power he holds over her, relishing in the knowledge that she has surrendered herself to him willingly. As Maya settles against him, Izana gently runs his fingers through her hair, a gesture that feels both comforting and possessive. He relishes in the feeling of her body pressed against his, the subtle rise and fall of her chest against his own. "You know, bunny," Izana murmurs, his voice soft yet tinged with a hint of smugness, "you always seem to find your way back to me, no matter how hard you try to resist."

Maya's breath catches in her throat at his words. She knows he's right, knows that despite her best efforts to break free from his grasp, she always ends up back in his arms. "Izana," she whispers, her voice barely audible, "this... this isn't how it's supposed to be."

His grip tightens ever so slightly around her, a silent reminder of the power he holds over her. "But this is how it is, bunny," he replies softly, his tone tinged with a sense of finality. "And as long as you're mine, it's how it will always be."

Maya sighs and presses her face against Izana's chest. It had been about two and a half weeks since the whole ordeal. In total, she was held in this beach house for a month and 3 weeks. Izana is running his hands through her hair, the rough pads of his fingers scratching against her scalp. Izana was doing pretty well with the withdrawal. It seemed like having a different atmosphere really did help with recovery. Mikey is in the shower and the sun is still rising. It's way too early in the morning but they all somehow woke up at the same time— or well, Maya pretended to be asleep so Mikey didn't drag her to the shower with him. "You know..." Izana starts, resting his chin on top of her head "We didn't mean to get you addicted... we just got carried away"

Maya's heart sinks as Izana's words wash over her, the weight of his confession settling like a heavy fog in the room. "You just looked so cute high... You were clingy as hell..." He sighs, fingers trailing down the back of her neck, tracing the knobs of her spine "Sounded so cute every time you said my name so I just got carried away... Manjiro too"

Maya's mind reels at the realization of how easily they succumbed to their desires, how they let themselves be swept away by the intoxicating allure of her altered state. It's a bitter truth to swallow, knowing that their actions were driven by selfish impulses rather than genuine concern for her well-being. "I... I don't remember much of it" she admits, not looking up at him

Izana sighs, sounding almost remorseful. "Of course, you don't..." his tone changes quickly though as if remembering a fond childhood memory "You were adorable though... Could barely even sit up on your own and were so fucking clingy"

Izana's gaze softens as he watches Maya, a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes before he speaks again. "But hey," he murmurs, his voice gentle, "we took care of you, okay... You didn't die, isn't that what matters?"

Maya remains silent, her eyes downcast as she absorbs his words. She doesn't dare contradict him, knowing it would only lead to more conflict. Instead, she nods slowly, a gesture of silent agreement. Izana hums and runs his fingers through her hair again, glancing sideways as he hears the shower turn off. "There are some polaroids though... In case you wanna get a few glimpses of what happened during those 2 weeks" He tells her

Maya's heart clenches at Izana's mention of the polaroids, a mixture of dread and curiosity swirling within her. She knows she shouldn't want to see them, shouldn't want to revisit those moments of vulnerability and manipulation, but there's a part of her that can't help but wonder. "Maybe later," she mumbles softly, her voice barely audible as she tries to push aside the nagging desire to see the evidence of her own(possible) degradation.

Izana nods understandingly, though there's a glint of mischief in his eyes that Maya can't quite decipher. "Whenever you're ready" he replies, his tone almost teasing as he leans in to press a kiss to the top of her head.

Maya forces a small smile, though it feels brittle and fragile on her lips. She wonders how things were during those 2 weeks. The weight of the past hangs heavy on her shoulders, burdening her with questions and doubts that seem to have no answers. She wonders how everything spiralled out of control so quickly, how she ended up trapped in this web of deceit and manipulation. Izana's steady heartbeat beneath her ear offers a semblance of solace, a reminder that amidst the chaos, there are still moments of calm. Yet, even in his embrace, Maya can't shake the gnawing feeling of despair that gnaws at the edges of her consciousness. "Hey... Bunny..." Izana says holding her tighter against him "You're shaking"

Maya's breath catches in her throat as Izana's voice cuts through the haze of her thoughts. She hadn't even realized she was shaking until he pointed it out. "Sorry..." she mumbles, her voice barely audible as she tries to steady her trembling limbs.

She feels exposed, vulnerable beneath Izana's scrutinizing gaze, as if he can see straight through the facade she's been desperately trying to maintain. Izana's arms tighten around her, his touch both comforting and suffocating all at once. "Don't apologize," he murmurs, his breath warm against her ear. "Just breathe..."

Maya feels vulnerable and sad. She can't help herself right now. Tears well up in her eyes for a reason she isn't too sure of. She doesn't feel too good. As tears blur her vision, Maya's chest tightens with an overwhelming wave of emotion. She feels like she's drowning, suffocating beneath the weight of her own despair. Each breath comes harder than the last as if the air itself has turned to lead in her lungs. "Izana..." she whispers, her voice trembling with unspoken anguish. "I can't do this anymore..."

Her words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea for release from the suffocating grip of her own mind. Izana's grip tightens around Maya, his arms enveloping her in a protective embrace. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the storm raging within her

But Maya can't shake the feeling of isolation, the sense that she's adrift in a sea of darkness with no shore in sight. "I can't..." she chokes out between sobs, her voice breaking with the weight of her despair. "I can't do this anymore, Izana... I wanna go home..."

Izana's grip tightens around Maya, his embrace becoming suffocating rather than comforting. "Bunny," he murmurs, his tone stern even while using that vile pet name, "this is your home now. You belong to me, remember? You don't get to leave whenever you please. So no more talking about that and no more asking for it either... Understand?"

Her tears wet Izana's shirt, but he doesn't seem to mind. Instead, he holds her even tighter, his touch strangely comforting despite the suffocating weight of his possessiveness. "Shh, I know... I know," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing balm against her turmoil. "Stop crying."

Maya sniffles, trying to silence her sobs, but the tears keep flowing, unstoppable as a river. "I-I'm sorry... 'm sorry..." she apologizes, her words choked with emotion. "I'm tired."

"You don't have to apologize for feeling tired," Izana reassures her, his voice calm and steady. He runs his fingers through her hair in a gentle gesture of comfort. "It's perfectly natural for you to be tired."

"Just... don't ask to go home again" he warns softly, his tone tinged with a hint of possessiveness as he squeezes her tightly in his arms.

Maya continues to apologize between trembling breaths, her grip on Izana tightening as if she fears he might slip away. Each apology feels like a plea for forgiveness for something she didn't even do, a desperate attempt to soothe the turmoil raging within her. "I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I just..." Her words dissolve into a choked sob, her entire body shaking with the force of her emotions.

Izana's arms remain wrapped around her, offering a sense of security amidst the chaos of her own mind. He doesn't respond to her apologies, instead choosing to hold her close, his touch a silent reassurance that she isn't alone. For a moment, Maya allows herself to forget the weight of her despair, to lose herself in the warmth of Izana's embrace. But even as she clings to him like a lifeline, she can't shake the nagging feeling of emptiness that gnaws at her from within. Each breath feels like a struggle as if the weight of her despair threatens to crush her from within. "I-I don't know what to do..." she whispers hoarsely, her voice barely audible amidst the turmoil.

She feels lost, adrift in a sea of uncertainty, with no beacon to guide her to shore. The walls of the beach house seem to close in around her, suffocating her with their oppressive presence. "I can't... I can't do this anymore..." she murmurs, her words a desperate plea for release from the prison of her own mind

Izana's touch is a lifeline amidst the chaos, his arms a refuge from the storm that rages within her. He holds her close, tight, his touch is warm. "It's okay, bunny," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of her turmoil. "I've got you... You don't have to do anything... Just let yourself feel... Let it all out..."

In the quiet intimacy of the moment, Maya's tears begin to subside, her sobs tapering off into soft, shuddering breaths. She rests her head against Izana's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear. "I'm sorry..." she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with exhaustion and remorse. "I didn't mean to... I just..."

Izana brushes his fingers through her hair, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Shh~, it's alright," he murmurs, his tone soft and understanding. "You don't have to apologize, bunny. You're just tired... You've been through so much..."

Maya nods weakly, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her breakdown that probably hasn't ended yet. She feels drained, emotionally and physically spent from the weight of her own despair. Maya didn't know what she was apologizing for but she kept saying it anyway and each time Izana just hushed her. "hey, hey... Look at me" He said and put a tanned finger beneath her chin, making her look up at him

She looks up at him, her blue eyes watery and sad. "Good girl" Izana murmurs, rubbing his thumb against the thin skin under her eye, fingertips brushing against her bottom lashes "I know you're tired, I know you've been through a lot but I promise... I promise everything will be okay from now on"

Izana presses a kiss to her forehead and then continues speaking. "Everything here is for you. The house is yours, the beach is yours... You'll never have to worry about anything again, hm. We'll take care of you"

As Maya gazes up at Izana, her eyes reflect a mix of weariness and vulnerability. His gentle touch beneath her eye elicits a soft sigh from her lips, a subtle reassurance amidst the turmoil of her emotions. She leans into his caress, finding solace in the warmth of his affection. "Okay..." she whispers, her voice barely audible, her words a whispered plea for comfort.

Izana's lips curve into a tender smile, his thumb continuing its soothing motion against her skin. "You're doing so well, Bunny," he murmurs, his voice a soft murmur that washes over her like a gentle breeze. "I'm proud of you. Me and Manjiro"

As the bathroom door swings open, Mikey emerges, his presence commanding attention even in the dim light of the early morning. Maya's gaze flickers towards him, momentarily distracted from the cocoon of comfort she finds in Izana's arms. Mikey's appearance is casual yet striking, his toned physique accentuated by the absence of a shirt, and his sweatpants hanging loosely on his hips. He runs a hand through his damp hair, ruffling the dark strands as he steps further into the room. "Morning" he greets, his voice low and gravelly from sleep, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he takes in the scene before him.

Izana's arms tighten around Maya. "Morning" he echoes, grinning lazily at his younger brother

Maya's heart flutters nervously in her chest. She shifts uncomfortably in Izana's embrace, torn between the conflicting desires that tug at her heartstrings. Mikey's gaze meets hers, a flicker of something unreadable passing between them before he breaks the momentary silence. "You alright, Maya?" he asks, his voice soft with genuine concern.

Maya isn't able to answer. She knows for a fact the moment she opens her mouth to speak she'll cry again. So instead, she presses her face against the crook of Izana's neck, clinging to him tighter. Izana's fingers gently stroke her hair as he speaks, his tone carrying a note of understanding. "our bunny had a little meltdown, Manjiro" he explains, his voice soft and patronizing.

Mikey nods, his expression softening with empathy. "Oh, poor thing" he murmurs, his eyes flickering with concern as he steps closer to them, laying a hand on the back of her neck "It's alright..."

Maya nods weakly, unable to find the words to express the tangled mess of emotions churning inside her. She feels like a child, overwhelmed and lost in a world she can't comprehend. But in the arms of Izana and Mikey, she finds a fleeting sense of security, a sanctuary from the storm raging within her soul. Izana's hand continues to stroke her hair in a soothing rhythm, his touch a silent reassurance that she's not alone. "Just rest now, little bunny," he murmurs, his voice laced with a strange mix of tenderness and possessiveness. "We'll take care of everything."

With a heavy heart, Maya allows herself to sink into the warmth of their embrace, seeking solace in the arms of those who claim to care for her. As Maya buries her face in Izana's neck, she feels a rush of conflicting emotions coursing through her veins. She's torn between the comfort of their embrace and the unsettling realization that she's become dependent on them for comfort. Izana's fingers continue their gentle caress through her hair, his touch both comforting and suffocating in its possessiveness. Mikey's hand on the back of her neck offers a sense of grounding amidst the turmoil raging within her. His words of reassurance are like a lifeline in the midst of the storm, anchoring her fragile sense of self amidst the chaos. But beneath the surface, Maya can't shake the gnawing feeling of unease that gnaws at her soul. She wonders how she ended up in this tangled web of manipulation and control, and whether there's any way out.

Yet for now, she pushes aside her doubts and surrenders to the warmth of their embrace, seeking refuge in the illusion of safety they offer. As she closes her eyes and drifts into the embrace of sleep, she knows that the path ahead is fraught with uncertainty, but for now, she allows herself to be carried away by the currents of their affection, hoping against hope that they will lead her to calmer shores.

As Maya drifts into a peaceful slumber, Izana carefully lays her down on the bed and tenderly tucks her in, ensuring she's comfortable. Mikey observes silently from across the room, his gaze lingering on Maya's sleeping form as he buttons up his shirt. There's a moment of quiet between them, punctuated only by the soft sounds of Maya's steady breathing. Mikey's expression is unreadable, a mixture of concern and resignation playing across his features as he watches over her. "she doesn't remember y'know... Should've seen it coming but I think it's a little disappointing" Izana says "She thinks we did something crazy to her during those two weeks"

Mikey's expression tightens slightly at Izana's words, a flicker of frustration crossing his features before he composes himself. Izana's voice carries a note of accusation as he turns to face Mikey, his gaze piercing. "It's your fault she doesn't remember," Izana continues, his tone tinged with frustration. "You kept getting carried away, giving her more pills than she needed. Now look at her."

Mikey's tone is defensive as he responds to Izana's accusation. "I only did it because I couldn't help myself," he admits, his voice tinged with remorse. "She looked so... vulnerable. I just wanted to make her feel better, even if it meant going too far."

Izana just chuckles. "You get obsessed so easily, don't you?" He says amusement evident in his tone "My poor bunny thought all this time I was the one hurting her and giving her those pills when it was you that kept giving her more"

Izana is making fun of him now. Mikey's expression tightens, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features as Izana's words hit home. "It's not like that," he retorts defensively, his voice tinged with frustration. "I was just trying to help her."

Izana's laughter rings out, a mocking sound that echoes in the quiet room. "Help her? More like suffocate her," he quips, his amusement turning sharp and cutting. "If Kakucho hadn't stopped you, you would've ended up overdosing her. And that's huge coming from someone who doesn't even take drugs that aren't prescribed to them"

Mikey's jaw clenches, a surge of resentment bubbling up inside him at Izana's taunts. "I know what I'm doing," he snaps back, his tone defensive. "You don't need to lecture me. And stop acting like such a saint. You were the one that gave that to her first"

As tension simmers between them, the air thick with unspoken frustrations and resentment, they both know that their dynamic is far from simple. With Maya caught in the middle, their conflicting desires threaten to unravel the fragile balance they've managed to maintain. "Yeah, I did and I admit that. But I made it clear to her from the start what I wanted from her. You on the other hand you lying manipulative little shit..." Izana says insulting him but also looking impressed "Got 'er wrapped around your finger by playing the long game. Fuck, I don't have the patience for that shit"

Mikey rolls his eyes and says "Is that why you told her the truth? 'Cause you were jealous I got her heart first?"

Izana's smirk widens into a sly grin, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Maybe," he quips, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Or maybe I just got tired of watching you manipulate her like a puppet on strings."

Mikey's expression darkens, his frustration boiling over as he meets Izana's gaze head-on. "You don't get to play the hero here, Izana," he snaps, his tone laced with bitterness. "You're just as twisted and messed up as I am."

The room crackles with tension, the air heavy with unspoken accusations and resentments. Maya's sleeping form serves as a stark reminder of the tangled web they've woven, each thread pulling them deeper into the darkness of their own making. Izana's laughter rings out once more, a cold sound that sends a shiver down Mikey's spine. "Maybe so," he concedes, his voice low and dangerous. "But at least I'm not the one lying to myself about it."

With that, the room falls into a tense silence, the weight of their shared secrets hanging heavy between them like a dark cloud. In the quiet stillness of the early morning, they are left to confront the truth of their own twisted desires, and the consequences that threaten to tear them apart. The silence stretches on, heavy with unresolved tension and unspoken words. Mikey's gaze flickers away from Izana's, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. He knows that Izana's words hold a grain of truth, but he can't bring himself to admit it.

Meanwhile, Izana reclines back on the bed next to Maya, a smug smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He watches Mikey closely, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and satisfaction. For Izana, this moment is a victory, a chance to assert his dominance and remind Mikey of his own shortcomings. But beneath the facade of confidence, Izana's own insecurities gnaw at him, a constant reminder of the fragile balance he's trying to maintain. Despite his bravado, he can't shake the feeling that he's losing control, that Maya's presence in their lives is a threat to the carefully constructed walls he's built around himself. In the midst of their silent standoff, Maya stirs in her sleep, a small whimper escaping her lips. The sound pierces through the tension, drawing both Izana and Mikey's attention back to her. "shh~" Izana murmurs, being uncharacteristically gentle in front of Mikey for the first time

Izana caressed her hair, leaning down till his nose was pressed to her cheek in a soft comforting manner. As Izana leans in to comfort Maya, Mikey watches with a mixture of frustration and resignation. His fists clench at his sides as he struggles to contain the storm of emotions raging within him. "You think you can just play the caring lover now?" he scoffs, his voice dripping with bitterness.

Izana doesn't respond, his attention fully focused on Maya as he brushes a stray strand of hair from her face. There's a tenderness in his touch that Mikey finds unsettling, a stark contrast to the manipulative persona he usually wears like armour. Frustration boiling over, Mikey steps forward, his eyes narrowed in defiance. "You're not fooling anyone, Izana," he says, his voice low and menacing. "We both know what you're really after."

Izana's gaze flickers up to meet Mikey's, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "And what exactly am I after, Manjiro?" he asks, his tone deceptively calm.

Mikey grits his teeth, his frustration mounting with each passing moment. "You want control," he snaps, his voice rising with anger. "You want to keep her all to yourself, like some kind of possession. Or I dunno. A fuckin' pet?!"

Izana's smirk widens, a flash of something dark glinting in his eyes. "And what about you, Mikey?" he counters, his voice dripping with malice. "What do you want?"

The question hangs heavy in the air, and the silence that follows is filled with tension and uncertainty. Mikey's jaw tightens as he struggles to find the words, torn between his own desires and the tangled web of manipulation that binds them all together. Mikey's gaze flickers between Izana and Maya, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. He wants to protect her, to keep her safe from the chaos that surrounds them, but he also knows that he's part of the problem. "I want..." he begins, his voice trailing off as he struggles to articulate his thoughts.

Izana's smirk deepens, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You want her, don't you?" he taunts, his words like a dagger aimed at Mikey's heart. "You want her just as much as I do."

Mikey's fists clench at his sides, his frustration reaching its breaking point. "It's not like that," he insists, his voice tinged with desperation. "I care about her, Izana. I don't want to see her hurt."

Izana's laughter rings out, cold and mocking. "Oh, spare me the act, Manjiro," he sneers, his tone dripping with disdain. "You're just as possessive as I am. Admit it."

Mikey's chest tightens with frustration, his jaw clenched as Izana's words hit uncomfortably close to home. He knows there's truth in what Izana says, even if he's reluctant to admit it. The weight of his conflicting emotions bears down on him, leaving him feeling trapped in a web of his own making. As Maya's soft whimper fills the air once more, Mikey's resolve wavers. He knows he needs to confront his feelings and the reality of the situation, but the thought of acknowledging his own possessiveness fills him with a sense of shame. With a heavy sigh, he looks away, unable to meet Izana's gaze as the truth hangs heavy in the air. Izana's voice breaks through the tension, his tone soft and gentle as he soothes Maya's restless slumber. With practiced ease, he reaches out to stroke her hair, his touch tender and reassuring. "Shh, little bunny," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room. "It's alright. You're safe here."

Maya's whimpering subsides, her breathing gradually steadying as Izana's comforting presence envelops her in a cocoon of warmth. Mikey watches silently, a knot of conflicting emotions churning in his chest. He can't deny the sense of relief that washes over him as Izana calms Maya, but beneath it all, there lingers a lingering sense of unease. As the tension in the room eases, a fragile truce settles between Mikey and Izana, their silent standoff momentarily forgotten in the face of Maya's vulnerability. Izana is humming a soft melody into Maya's ear, and Mikey freezes at the sound of the familiar tune. "Izana..." Mikey says lowly, realizing exactly what was going on just from that damn song he was humming—

—Realizing exactly why Izana hadn't just killed her that night. "you're messed up..." Mikey says breathlessly "Majorly fucking messed up"

Mikey's voice cuts through the soft melody, breaking the fragile calm that had settled over the room. Izana's humming falters for a moment, his gaze flickering up to meet Mikey's with a hint of annoyance in his eyes. "And you're not?" he retorts, his tone laced with bitterness. "We're all messed up here, Manjiro. Don't act like you're any different."

There's a raw honesty in Izana's words, a stark reminder of the darkness that lurks within each of them. Mikey's jaw clenches, his fists tightening at his sides as he struggles to contain the surge of anger threatening to consume him. "You're pretending she's her" Mikey argues, clenching his fists

He can't stand the thought of Izana projecting his past onto Maya, using her as a substitute for someone who can never come back. Mikey can't stand hearing Izana hum the same melody Emma would to him after Shinichiro died. Izana's eyes narrow at the accusation, a flicker of defensiveness crossing his features. "And what if I am?" he challenges, his voice low and dangerous. "What if I need Maya to be her?"

Mikey's chest tightens with a mix of anger and pity, his gaze hardening as he meets Izana's defiant stare. "Then you're not just messed up," he says quietly, his words heavy with disappointment. "You're delusional. Maya looks nothing like her—"

"Oh, and she looks so much like that little shit, Hanagaki, yeah?" Izana shoots back

Mikey's chest tightens at the mention of Hanagaki Takemichi, his jaw clenching with frustration. "That's not what I meant," he retorts, his voice sharp with irritation. "You're twisting my words."

Izana's smirk widens, a flash of malice glinting in his eyes. "Am I?" he taunts, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Seems like you're the one who can't handle the truth, Manjiro."

Mikey's gaze hardens, his frustration mounting with each word Izana utters. "Don't play games with me, Izana," he warns, his voice tinged with anger. "You know exactly what I meant. Maya is not Emma"

Izana scoffs. Izana's smirk falters for a moment, replaced by a calculating glint in his eyes. "It was all fun and fine until Emma was brought up, wasn't it?" he retorts, his voice carrying a sharp edge of accusation. "You can't handle the truth when it hits too close to home, can you, Manjiro? So what if Maya doesn't look like her? I don't care. Honestly, she shouldn't look like her— Like Emma and that stupid bitch"

Mikey frowns but before he can say anything back to his brother, Maya stirs again, whimpering a little. They both watch as one of her hands comes up and fists the satin material of Izana's red shirt, grasping at it for dear life. Mikey's frown deepens, his gaze softening as he watches Maya's restless movements. The sight of her clutching onto Izana's shirt tugs at something deep within him, a mixture of concern and affection welling up inside him. "She's just a kid" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

"She's 22" Izana interjects, pulling Maya into his arms

Mikey rolls his eyes. Okay so Izana could infantilize her as much as he wants but the moment he does it, it's wrong? Mikey's frustration bubbles to the surface, his brows furrowing at Izana's retort. "That's not the point, aniki," he counters, his tone edged with irritation. "You know what I meant."

Izana's smirk remains, but there's a flicker of annoyance in his eyes at Mikey's defiance. "Always so sensitive, Manjiro," he chides, his voice tinged with amusement. "But fine, let's focus on the present then. Maya is staying here, why I want her shouldn't be your business. Okay?"

Mikey's frustration lingers, but he relents with a heavy sigh, realizing the futility of further argument. "Fine" he mutters, his tone resigned

Izana expects Mikey to leave but he doesn't. Instead, Mikey climbs into bed with them on the other side of Maya and puts an arm around her waist, pressing his face into her hair. Maya, nestled between them, finds solace in their embrace, her breathing steady against the backdrop of their shared silence. Maya shifts slightly, instinctively seeking comfort from the warmth of their embrace, and Izana and Mikey hold her close, their arms forming a cocoon around her exhausted form. In the intimacy of their shared embrace, the tension between Izana and Mikey begins to ebb away. Izana brushes his fingers lightly over her hair, a subtle assertion of his presence in her life. Beside him, Mikey's arm around her waist speaks volumes, a silent declaration of his shielding stance. "Aniki..." Mikey murmurs

"yeah?"

"do you miss her?"

"Emma?"

"Yeah"

"Sometimes..."

After a moment of silence, Mikey speaks up again "Do you regret it?"

Izana's jaw tightens, a flicker of conflict crossing his features as he wrestles with his answer. His gaze drifts to Maya once more, her innocent slumber a stark contrast to the complexities of their shared history. "I don't know," he confesses, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Maybe... Do you think Emma's cursing at me?"

"100%" Manjiro answers, sliding a hand under Maya's shirt to feel her skin beneath his palm and the tips of his fingers

Mikey's response is immediate, his touch gentle yet possessive as he seeks solace in the warmth of Maya's skin. Izana watches in silence, his own thoughts swirling amidst the tangled web of their emotions. The intimacy of the moment is both comforting and suffocating, a reminder of the complexities that bind them together. "You really think so?" Izana murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he traces a finger along Maya's cheek, his touch feather-light yet tinged with a sense of longing.

Mikey's gaze remains fixed on Maya, his fingers trailing over her soft skin with a tenderness that belies the turmoil within him. "Yeah," he replies, his voice soft yet resolute "Maya probably hates us"

Izana chuckles. "no she doesn't."

Mikey's brows furrow at Izana's certainty, a mixture of confusion and disbelief crossing his features. "How can you be so sure?" he asks, his tone tinged with skepticism.

Izana brushes Maya's messily cut fringes away from her forehead. "she loves like a dog"

Mikey's eyes widen slightly at Izana's comparison, a hint of surprise mingling with the confusion in his expression. "Like a dog?" he echoes, his tone laced with uncertainty.

Izana nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watches Maya sleep peacefully between them. "Yeah," he explains, his voice gentle yet matter-of-fact. "She's loyal, forgiving, and loves unconditionally, no matter what we do."

The weight of Izana's words hangs heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the quiet intimacy of the moment. Mikey's gaze softens as he watches Maya sleep, her features relaxed in the innocence of slumber. "she's like... hm... Like a stray dog on the street but... instead of begging for food she begs for love even in places she shouldn't..." Izana continues, looking at Maya fondly despite what he's saying

Mikey's brow furrows deeper, his mind grappling with the analogy Izana presents. "A stray dog?" he murmurs, his voice reflecting both contemplation and a touch of sadness. The comparison paints a vivid picture in his mind, one that he can't quite shake off.

—after all, abusive relationships come easy when loving like a stray dog.

"Hey, how're you feeling now?" Mikey's voice is gentle as he takes Maya's hand and guides her onto his lap as he sits on the single-seat couch

It's early in the afternoon now. Maya had showered and was surprised to find that the door of the master bedroom connecting to the rest of the house was unlocked. Taking a chance she went out and found Kakucho in the kitchen cooking with Izana and Mikey sitting in front of the tv watching reruns of some anime. Despite having slept for a lot longer, Maya felt tired. But even then she forced herself to get out of bed and shower. She's wearing shorts and a random shirt that she's pretty sure belongs to Mikey. Maya settles onto Mikey's lap, his arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace. She leans into him, feeling strangely comforted by his possessive hold. "I'm okay," she murmurs softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she(almost reluctantly) nuzzles against his chest, relishing in the warmth of his presence.

Mikey's grip tightens around her, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he strokes her hair gently. "You're such a delicate little thing, aren't you?" he coos "You slept at night then had another nap in the morning 'n you're still tired. Kinda like a little baby"

Maya nods slightly, feeling a pang of guilt at Mikey's words for some reason, barely noticing how patronizing he was being. "I'm sorry," she murmurs softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "I didn't mean to sleep so much."

Mikey's smirk widens, his tone taking on a hint of amusement. "Don't worry about it, baby," he says, his fingers tracing idle circles on her back. "You need your rest. We'll take care of you."

There's something in the way Mikey speaks, a subtle insistence that leaves Maya feeling simultaneously comforted and uneasy. She knows she should assert her independence once again, but the warmth of Mikey's embrace is too tempting to resist. Mikey continues to stroke Maya's hair, his touch gentle yet possessive, as if he's claiming her as his own. "You know, Maya," he murmurs, his voice low and coaxing as he repeats "you don't have to worry about anything when you're with us. We'll take care of you, make sure you're safe and happy."

Maya's heart flutters at his words, a mixture of gratitude and apprehension swirling within her. She appreciates Mikey's concern, but there's an underlying sense of unease nagging at the back of her mind. Still, she finds herself nodding in agreement, unable to resist the allure of his soothing words. "Good," Mikey says, his tone tinged with satisfaction

With that, he pulls her closer, enveloping her in his embrace as if shielding her from the uncertainties of the outside world. But then again, the only uncertainty here was him. But still, Maya nodded, finding comfort in his words despite the unease that gnawed at her. "Okay" she relented, allowing herself to relax into his embrace.

"That's my girl," Mikey said, his voice filled with satisfaction then repeated, "Now, just relax and let us take care of you."

That's my girl

Maya hates herself for being so weak for simple words. A sense of warmth washed over Maya, but beneath it, a nagging doubt lingered. "I know," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I still feel guilty for sleeping so much."

Mikey's smile widened, his fingers tracing gentle circles on her back. "You have nothing to feel guilty about," he assured her

Just before Maya could say anything else, Kakucho came over with two cups of coffee on a tray. She suddenly feels very conscious of the position she's currently in— sitting on Mikey's lap, wearing his shirt, nestled into his chest with his arms around her. Sure Kakucho has seen her in relatively... worse positions but, right now as she's still mad at him, Maya doesn't like it. Kakucho however, doesn't bat an eye because he in fact has seen much worse. He simply set the tray down on the coffee table, his gaze lingering on Maya and Mikey for a moment before he spoke. "Coffee's ready" he said, his voice calm and collected.

Maya nodded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she awkwardly shifted on Mikey's lap, attempting to create some distance between them. "Th-thanks, Kakucho," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mikey chuckled softly, tightening his grip around her waist so she doesn't try to slide off. "Don't be shy, babe," he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Kakucho doesn't mind."

Maya's cheeks grew even hotter at his words, a mixture of embarrassment and frustration swirling within her. She shot Mikey a pointed glare before turning her attention to Kakucho, forcing a polite smile onto her lips. "Thanks for the coffee," she mumbled, reaching for one of the cups with trembling hands.

Kakucho nodded in response, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He must think she wasn't mad at him anymore since she wasn't glaring at him. "Anytime," he replied, his tone gentle. "Let me know if you need anything else."

With that, he turned and walked away. Maya watched Kakucho's retreating figure, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions. She couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort that lingered in the air, a silent reminder of the tension between them. Despite her attempts to appear calm and composed, Maya knew that her anger towards Kakucho had not dissipated. Mikey's arms around her provided a sense of security, but Maya couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her insides. She shifted uncomfortably on his lap, her thoughts racing as she struggled to make sense of the situation.

"Are you okay, Maya?" Mikey's voice interrupted her thoughts, his concern evident in his tone.

Maya forced a small smile, hoping to conceal the turmoil raging within her. "Yeah, I'm fine," she lied, her voice betraying her true feelings.

Mikey studied her for a moment, his gaze penetrating yet oddly comforting. "You don't seem fine" he remarked, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on her back.

Maya sighed, feeling the weight of her emotions pressing down on her. "I'm just really tired" she mumbles, fingers wrapping around the hot ceramic cup

She doesn't think telling Mikey that she was mad at Kakucho was a good idea. She vaguely remembers Kakucho often getting in trouble and beaten by Izana because of her. Maybe she was really mad at him but Maya doesn't want Kakucho to be punished. Mikey's expression softened, his concern deepening as he studied Maya's tired features. "You should rest then," he suggested gently, his thumb brushing against her cheek in a tender gesture. "We can talk about it later if you want, but for now, just focus on taking care of yourself."

Maya nodded gratefully, appreciating Mikey's understanding of what she wanted him to think. She took a sip of the steaming coffee, relishing in its warmth as it spread through her body. Despite her exhaustion, Maya couldn't shake the lingering unease that tugged at her thoughts. As she leaned back against Mikey's chest, she couldn't help but wonder about the complexities of her relationship with Kakucho. Despite his past actions, Maya couldn't bring herself to harbour genuine resentment toward him. She knew that his intentions were often misguided, but somehow she felt he was almost in a similar situation as her.  Deep down, Maya knew that her anger towards Kakucho was born out of frustration and fear rather than genuine animosity. She feared the repercussions of her actions, knowing that any misstep could result in punishment for Kakucho.

Lost in her thoughts, Maya found herself clinging to Mikey's comforting presence, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace. As Maya nestled into Mikey's embrace, she caught sight of Izana entering the room, a cup of coffee in hand. His presence sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her of the tension that simmered beneath the surface of their interactions. Izana settled onto the sofa across from them with his own cup, his gaze flickering over to Maya with a calculating expression. "Feeling better, I see," he remarked casually, his tone devoid of warmth.

Maya forced a smile, trying to mask the unease that churned within her. "Yeah, just needed some... rest..." she replied, her voice sounding small in the vastness of the room filled with natural sunlight.

It's a beautiful fucking day outside. It seems like nature is mocking her. Mikey's grip around her tightened subtly. Izana took a sip of his coffee, his eyes lingering on Maya with an intensity that made her squirm uncomfortably. "Good," he said finally, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "You should take care of yourself, Maya. After all, you're the most valuable asset we have right now."

"I don't see how I am..." Maya replies, feeling kind of uncomfortable now

Izana chuckled softly, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. "Oh, but you are," he insisted, his tone laced with thinly veiled menace. "You have a... unique skill set that could prove quite beneficial to our operations."

"Aniki stop fucking with her" Mikey says rolling his eyes, guiding Maya's hand up and taking a sip out of her cup rather than getting his own that was sitting idly on the coffee table "he's just being stupid"

Maya felt a surge of gratitude towards Mikey for intervening, his protective gesture providing a fleeting sense of relief amidst the oppressive atmosphere. Izana's smirk widened, his gaze flickering between Mikey and Maya with a knowing glint. "Ah, but she's such fun to tease," he remarked casually, though there was a dangerous edge to his tone. "Aren't you having fun, bunny?"

"no not really" Maya says as Mikey continues drinking from her cup

Mikey's lips twitched into a faint smile as he took another sip from Maya's cup, his eyes never leaving Izana's. "See, Maya's not amused," he quipped, his voice laced with subtle defiance.

Izana's smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of annoyance before he regained his composure. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" he replied, his tone taking on a mockingly pleasant quality. "After all, what's the point of having you here if you're not going to entertain us?"

Maya's stomach churned at Izana's words, a cold shiver running down her spine. She could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as the power dynamics between Mikey and Izana played out before her. "Have you ever considered not being an asshole?" Mikey asks his brother

"No actually but I'll consider it someday, Manjiro" Izana says teasingly, taking another sip out of his cup

Maya thinks this guy just enjoys being an asshole which isn't surprising. She would psychoanalyze him but her head is still a complete mess and she hasn't completely recovered from withdrawals to even want to think. "Anyway, I'm going back to Tokyo with Kakucho tonight. We're finalizing the deals with the Korean mafia, I'll be back in 2-3 days" Izana tells Manjiro

"Hm? Oh, do you need me too?" Mikey asks

"Nah, just stay here," Izana says "Kisaki said the fewer people involved in the deal, the better"

Maya's heart sank at the mention of Izana leaving, a mixture of relief and apprehension flooding her senses. She couldn't deny that a part of her was glad to have a temporary reprieve from his unsettling presence, but she also couldn't shake the nagging feeling that his absence would only bring more uncertainty and chaos. As Izana's words hung in the air, Maya found herself bracing for whatever came next, knowing all too well that the calm before the storm was often the most deceptive.

"w-wait" Maya slurs weakly as Mikey sucks lazily at her clit

She just feels the vibration of his lips when he hums against her, his fingers thrusting in and out at a slow pace. Her fingers tighten their grip on Mikey's hair, torn between pushing his head away and pulling him even closer. He's pulling the nth orgasm out of her of that night. Izana and Kakucho had left hours ago and how she ended up like this was really beyond her at this point. Her thighs are squeezing Mikey's head as she breathes heavily, letting out a mixture of moans and whimpers of his name. "M-Mikey... 's too much" Maya slurs weakly, pulling more on his hair

He groans against her cunt and she whimpers at the vibrations that go through her. It feels good. Everything feels good. Mikey learned what her body likes and what it doesn't. Mikey knew how to make her feel good and it's both a blessing and a curse. When she seemed even a little bit angry or her mood seemed off, Mikey would slide right between her legs and work his magic to make her feel better even if it wasn't him that was the cause of her negative emotions/attitude. "you can do a few more f'me, baby" Mikey coos sweetly after releasing her clit

Just how can she say no when he's asking so nicely? His thumb makes slow figure 8s on her clit and her legs wrap tighter around his head as her eyes roll back. Maya's fingers grip desperately at the sheets, her body so torn between keeping him close and pushing him away. "hey baby, ya' gotta ease up" Mikey says as he uses his free hands to pry her legs apart "I know it feels good and as much as I love you squeezing my head like that, ya' gotta ease up"

Maya's whimper sounds more like a sob this time as his fingers speed up after he slides up her body, pressing his forehead against hers. His hand stays nestled between her thighs with a knee keeping her legs spread for him. "A-Ah Mikey!" She whines, her eyes filling with tears and immediately spilling like an overflowing sink, her hands desperately grabbing at his clothed shoulders

Mikey is looking at her with dark eyes filled with both adoration and lust. "you're such a pretty crier" He coos sweetly, his lips brushing against hers

His fingers are working expertly on her cunt in a way he knows feels good. It almost wasn't fair how good this felt, how good he was making her feel. "M-Mikey... I... I can't" she whines, her nails digging into his clothed shoulder

Mikey simply hushes her, looking down at Maya with a look that makes her stomach twist. "You can take it" he murmurs, voice laced with encouragement as his free hand brushes her messily cut fringes away from her sweaty forehead "You've done so well for me so far, baby. 'm so proud of you... Don't you want to make me even prouder?"

That wasn't fair. Mikey knew how weak praises like that made her. How could she not want to make him proud? How could she not want to make him happy? How could she not give in when he was looking at her so softly and talking to her in such a gentle tone? "'kay... o-okay... c-can do it..." Maya's words come out slurred as another orgasm approaches when Mikey's fingers start moving faster

Maya squeezes her eyes shut but Mikey suddenly slows the pace of his thumb on her clit. "hey. eyes on me. keep them open" He demands, the tone of his voice slightly changing from soft and sweet to authoritative and stern

She's gasping out for air at this point. Her body is overly spent and her mind is exhausted but she listens to him anyway, glazed blue eyes meeting endless black ones. "good girl. good girl. Now keep them open for me. I want to see your eyes when you come"

It feels like there isn't enough air but also too much at the same time. Maya has lost count of the amount of times Mikey has made her come. It feels like her brain is melting into a pile of mush and her nerves are on fire. But still, nothing hurts yet. She just feels so overwhelmed by pleasure it's simply too much. Maybe it's the combination of how he's touching her, how he's talking to her and how he's looking at her that makes everything just too much all at once. "Mikey... M-Mikey... 'm gonna..." She can't even finish her sentence

Usually, if Mikey was in the mood of being a little bit mean, he'd make her say it. But right now he's not feeling that way and instead encourages her. "shh, go ahead sweetheart. come for me"

So she does. Maya is trembling as she comes around Mikey's fingers, her nails digging into his clothed shoulders and tears running down her cheeks like an endless stream. Her thighs tense up and not once does she close her eyes because Mikey asked her not to. How could she deny him when he asked so nicely? Mikey's fingers keep expertly working on her cunt in just the way he knows feels good for her, helping her ride out her orgasm and simultaneously using his knee to keep her thighs spread. Her orgasm ends and Mikey's eyes are wide, looking at her with eyes full of awe. "M-Mikey, I... I can't" she whimpers weakly, trying to push his hand away from her cunt

Mikey just hushes her. "hm, but you looked so pretty... Your eyes look so pretty when you come"

It sounds like he's crooning at her. Or well, Maya thinks he is. She can hear her own heartbeat in her ears at this point. Everything feels like too much and she thinks if she comes again she'll really pass out. "Mikey—"

"C'mon baby, one more for me. I wanna see your eyes look like that again"

And just how can she say no when he's asking so nicely?

Maybe she does pass out or something because Maya doesn't remember how she ended up in the shower with Mikey. He's washing her hair and has a small smile on his face. She struggled to piece together the events that led her to this moment, the sensation of warm water cascading over her body and Mikey's gentle hands massaging shampoo into her hair. She turned her head slightly, her gaze meeting Mikey's as he stood behind her, gently massaging shampoo into her hair. His expression was serene, a small smile gracing his lips as he worked, his fingers moving with practiced care. "Mikey?" Maya's voice was barely a whisper, hoarse from disuse as she tried to piece together how she had ended up in the shower with him.

Mikey's smile widened at the sound of her voice, his touch gentle as he continued to wash her hair. "Hey there, baby," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "You passed out, so I thought I'd help you freshen up a bit."

Maya's cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the realization that she had lost consciousness, her memory hazy and disjointed. He's practically holding her up or well somehow holding her up because her knees are weak. "close your eyes" he murmurs, hand on the knob of the shower to turn on the rain head shower above them

Maya obeys without a word and closes her eyes as he turns it on, warm water raining down on them both. Mikey runs his fingers through her hair as the shampoo is washed out of her hair. This entire thing feels oddly domestic and... She likes it. Maybe, just maybe, she can get used to this. It was horrible to be thinking that way. Giving in so easily. It was wrong but maybe after fighting for so long, after going through so much, she could. She should be allowed to right? It wasn't like she gave in after the first day. Maya fought for a month and 3 weeks. Sure she didn't remember two weeks out of that time but, she still fought for herself. Was it wrong to give in and give up? No, there was no one here to blame her for it when all they wanted from the beginning was for her to stop running.

Izana wanted her to stop, Mikey wanted her to stop and eventually, Kakucho did as well.

No one was going to miss her anyway. She was an orphan and had no friends. Chifuyu would move on from her death, the world would keep spinning and the sun would still shine.

No one will miss her and it would be okay because even if Izana is a sociopathic fucking asshole, Kakucho is a recanting bastard and, Mikey a liar— at least they're still here and at least they want her.

They want her and to Maya that's all that matters.

"and where are you going?" Izana asks Kisaki who is being uncharacteristically fidgety

"Just... Need to pick something up" Kisaki says pushing his glasses up his nose "You can go on ahead, no need to wait for me"

The city of Tokyo is bustling in the early afternoon. Their meeting with the Koreans was later in the evening and everything for that was already taken care of. They could do whatever they wanted for now but it seemed Kisaki had something to do and whatever that was is making him jumpy and nervous. Kisaki Tetta, Tokyo Manji Gang's number 2, nervous? Oh, Izana needed to know why. Izana narrows his eyes, observing Kisaki's unusual behaviour with keen interest. He's never seen Kisaki like this before—usually so composed and calculated, it's unsettling to witness him so agitated. "Is there something on your mind, Kisaki?" Izana inquires, his voice deceptively calm as he studies his second-in-command. He can sense that there's more to Kisaki's sudden restlessness than meets the eye.

Kisaki shifts uncomfortably under Izana's gaze, his usual facade of confidence wavering slightly. "It's nothing, Izana," he replies, attempting to brush off Izana's concern with a dismissive wave of his hand. But Izana isn't fooled by the nonchalant demeanour.

"Nothing?" Izana repeats, his tone laced with skepticism. "You seem rather preoccupied with 'nothing.' Don't make me repeat myself, Kisaki. What's going on?"

Kisaki hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering away before meeting Izana's once more. "It's just a personal matter," he mumbles evasively, a hint of unease creeping into his voice. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

Izana's lips curl into a knowing smirk as he watches Kisaki's feeble attempt to deflect his inquiries. He may not have all the answers just yet, but one thing's for certain—whatever Kisaki is hiding, it's bound to be interesting. "Nope, I'm coming too"

"You're gonna get bored"

"I don't care"

To Izana's surprise, they end up at a high-end jewelry shop. Oh. Oh. Oh my god. "shut up you're proposing?" Izana has to resist the urge to laugh in Kisaki's face as the jeweller sets out designs of different engagement rings in front of them

Due to an unfortunate drunken confession some years back, the top members of the Tokyo Manji Gang knew about Kisaki Tetta's pining toward Tachibana Hinata. They laughed at him obviously because how in the world was Kisaki losing against Hanagaki-fucking-Takemichi who is an absolute loser and a literal moron with no fashion sense. Izana never let him live it down nor did Sanzu and Hanma. But now, it seemed that Kisaki was going to propose. It seemed like a stupid fucking idea in Izana's opinion but he won't voice that out loud because he wanted to see things crash and burn just for fun. Kisaki shoots Izana a glare, his embarrassment is evident in the crimson hue that tinges on his cheeks. "Shut up, Izana," he grumbles, though there's a hint of fondness underlying his exasperated tone.

The jeweller, sensing the tension between the two men, wisely decides to give them some space as they peruse through the selection of engagement rings. Izana leans back against the counter, folding his arms across his chest as he watches Kisaki with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. He never thought he'd see the day when Kisaki would be considering marriage, let alone to someone like Tachibana Hinata. "So, Tachibana Hinata, huh?" Izana remarks casually, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. "Never took you for the romantic type, Kisaki."

Kisaki's expression softens at the mention of Hinata's name, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "She's different," he admits quietly, his gaze distant as he recalls memories of their time together. "She's... she's everything, Izana. I can't imagine my life without her."

Izana observes Kisaki's genuine affection with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. Despite his outwardly cold and calculating demeanour, it's evident that Kisaki harbours deep feelings for Hinata, feelings that Izana never expected to witness firsthand. It's a side of Kisaki that few have ever seen, and honestly, it's really fucking weird considering the supervillain type of shit Kisaki does. This was the first time they were even talking about girls in a way that wasn't vulgar and just plain wrong. This was odd and Izana isn't sure he wants to continue this conversation because he'll actually have a stroke if he hears any more of that cheesy-cringy bullshit. "Well, then," Izana says with a smirk, pushing himself off the counter in hopes Kisaki takes the hint and drops it "Let's find the perfect ring for your perfect girl, shall we?"

Kisaki's eyes light up at the suggestion, his earlier nervousness replaced by a newfound determination. Together, they sift through the array of rings, each one more exquisite than the last. "What about your uh..." Kisaki pauses trying to look for the right word to describe whatever Kaneko Maya was for Kurokawa Izana

Kisaki's question about Maya prompts Izana to pause, his fingers hesitating over the delicate jewelry. "My bunny?" he repeats, the term rolling off his tongue with a mixture of macabre fondness and possessiveness. "She's... special."

Kisaki watches Izana closely, sensing the underlying complexity in his tone. Kisaki doesn't even know why the fuck he's asking. It seems that no matter how smart he is, he still can't avoid or stop himself from asking these weird and awkward questions. "Special how?"

Izana's gaze flickers with a myriad of emotions—affection, frustration, and a hint of vulnerability. "She's... like a wounded animal," he murmurs, his voice tinged with morbid fascination. "Broken and fragile, yet resilient in her own way. It's quite amusing to see"

Kisaki nods in understanding, recognizing the depth of Izana's feelings for Maya beneath the veneer of detachment. "And what are your intentions toward her?" he asks, his curiosity piqued now because the only person Kisaki himself would describe that way is Hanagaki Takemichi

Izana's lips quirked into a rueful smile, his eyes distant as he struggled to articulate the complexities of his emotions. "I don't know" he admits easily

Kisaki listens in silence, his expression is contemplative as he absorbs Izana's confession. He understands all too well the struggle between love and control, the desire to both nurture and possess. It's a delicate balance, one that Izana seems to grapple with on a daily basis. Kisaki also feels really bad for this girl. From what he'd heard from Sanzu and Shion, this girl was going to literal hell. Oh well. It's not his problem. As long as she doesn't become an obstacle in his plans, he could care less what happens to Kaneko Maya. "You think Tachibana will say yes?" Izana asks him all of a sudden

Kisaki's thoughts momentarily shift from the enigmatic nature of Izana's relationship with Maya to the more straightforward matter of Kisaki's own impending proposal. He blinks, taken aback by the sudden change in topic, but quickly recovers. "Tachibana?" Kisaki repeats, his mind refocusing on the matter at hand. "I... I hope so." There's a flicker of uncertainty in his voice, a rare display of vulnerability from the usually composed second-in-command of the Tokyo Manji Gang.

This was a weird conversation to have, especially after everything but, Izana had insisted on coming along, they were having an extremely uncomfortable conversation. Not extremely but it was just fucking weird to have with Kurokawa Izana of all people. "Well, then," Izana says, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "Let's make sure she can't say no, shall we?"

Kisaki's lips twitch into a small smile, a glimmer of hope igniting within him at Izana's words. "Yeah," he agrees quietly

Part of Mikey feels bad for Maya particularly when he sees her zoned out. But it is late in the afternoon, the sun is low and lighting up the master bedroom of the beach house in orange and yellow through the glass double doors leading out to the beach and he's lying on top of her, ear pressed to her sternum right where he can hear her heartbeat the loudest. It's perfect. Absolutely perfect. Maya isn't crying about going home anymore, neither is she under the influence of drugs to achieve that. Maya looks rather calm about being here which was a first. She'd been like that last night since after they showered together. Mikey was happy. He was so happy. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore provides a soothing backdrop to their shared intimacy, a reminder of the tranquillity that exists just beyond the confines of their secluded sanctuary. Mikey's fingers trace idle patterns on Maya's skin, his touch gentle yet possessive. He can't help but marvel at the sight of her lying beneath him, her features softened in the warm light. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, she seems at peace—no longer plagued by the torment of her past or the uncertainty of her future.

His heart swelled with a mixture of tenderness and guilt. He knows he shouldn't feel this way, shouldn't revel in the calm that comes from holding her captive against her will. But at this moment, with the world outside their little sanctuary fading into obscurity, it's easy to forget the consequences of their actions. Maya stirs slightly beneath him, her fingers tracing idle patterns against his back. Her eyes flutter open, meeting his with a gaze that's both questioning and vulnerable. "Mikey" she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

Mikey brushes a strand of hair away from her face, his touch gentle yet possessive. "Shh, it's okay," he whispers, his lips pressing against her forehead in a silent promise. "You're safe with me."

Maya doesn't say anything but her gaze doesn't shift from his eyes. She's just, looking at him. It feels nice. Mikey likes the way she's looking at him. He feels warm all over. It had been so long since someone made him feel like that. Her thumb brushes against his cheekbone and Mikey resists the urge to nuzzle into her palm even though he knows he can. "are you hungry? I can make you dinner" Maya says gently, her tone quiet

Mikey's stomach growls loudly in response to Maya's question, betraying his hunger despite the tranquillity of the moment. He chuckles softly, his lips quirking into a sheepish grin as he meets Maya's gaze. "Yeah, I could eat," he admits, his voice tinged with amusement. "But only if you let me help."

Maya smiles warmly, her eyes softening as she nods in agreement. "I'll think about"

Mikey's grin widens at the playful designation, his heart swelling with warmth at the prospect of spending more time with Maya in the kitchen. It's a simple gesture, but one that holds a deeper significance—a reminder of the ordinary moments that make life worth living, even in the midst of chaos and uncertainty. Together, they make their way to the kitchen, their laughter mingling with the sound of sizzling pans and clinking utensils. And as they prepare their meal side by side, Mikey can't help but marvel at the simple joy of domesticity. "You're really forgetful, aren't you?" Maya asks him as he's stirring the pot since it was the only thing he was good at

"hm, how?"

"Izana and Sanzu are always reminding you to eat" Maya says as she's washing something in the sink

Mikey thinks for a moment. "yeah. They are"

"That's nice of them. Izana's an asshole didn't think he had it in him to be a caring older brother"

Mikey's expectations were shattered when Maya didn't react the way he anticipated. He had braced himself for her to hurl accusations of laziness or belittle him like others had done in the past, particularly Draken. But instead, Maya's response was one of understanding and compassion.

He had been prepared for judgment, for being seen as weak or incompetent. After all, getting out of bed had become an insurmountable task after Emma's funeral 12 years ago. Draken's absence during this time, despite his own grief over Emma's passing, had left Mikey feeling abandoned and forgotten. Yes, Draken was grieving too but, Emma wasn't just anyone to Mikey; she was his sister, his anchor in a world of chaos and the reason he hadn't gone completely crazy. And when she was gone, Mikey found himself adrift, lost in a sea of grief and despair.

Mikey's downward spiral had been rapid and relentless. He couldn't muster the strength to get out of bed, shower, eat, or attend gang meetings—even with Sanzu's persistent attempts to rouse him. It wasn't until Izana intervened that Mikey began to see a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to consume him.

Izana's arrival at the Sano household marked a turning point in Mikey's despair. With unwavering determination, Izana pulled him from the confines of his bed, coaxing him into the shower and gently tending to his neglected appearance. Mikey's hair was matted and unkempt after spending months in bed. Izana tried untangling his matted locks while Sanzu fed him. Izana salvaged what he could without shaving it all off and he ended up with short hair. Mikey threw up his food when he looked in the mirror and saw Shinichiro staring back at him.

Instead of admonishing Mikey for his self-neglect and vomiting, Izana offered comfort and reassurance in the simplest of gestures. Handing him a toothbrush with toothpaste.

Izana took care of him. When no one was there, Izana was the one that was still there. Izana took care of him alongside Sanzu. Had it not been for both of them, Mikey probably would have rotted and died in his room and no one would have noticed.

After months of radio silence when Mikey announced a gang meeting to get things back in order, no one was happy about merging Tenjiku with Toman. His so-called friends began to leave him one by one. They never let him explain himself, they didn't let him see Takemichi and they berated him for being around Izana who clearly had other intentions.

Sure Izana was manipulative, cruel and mean but Mikey was okay with that. Draken wasn't there for him when he needed him the most, nor was anyone else so why was everyone mad at him? Why did everyone else leave him while telling him he was the one to blame for Emma's death? Why was it his fault? It's not his fault. She died in his arms so why was everyone comforting Draken and not him? Why did everyone leave him? The memory of Emma's death weighs heavily on Mikey's heart, a constant reminder of the pain and loss that he carries with him every day. He can still feel her life slipping away beneath his fingertips, and hear the echo of her final breaths as they fade into the darkness.

And yet, amidst the turmoil and despair, there is one constant source of solace—the unwavering presence of Izana by his side. Despite Izana's harsh words and cruel demeanour, Mikey finds a strange sense of comfort in his older brother's presence, a reminder that he is not alone in his pain. "Yeah... Would probably die without him" Mikey says with a small smile

In return, Maya smiles. Maybe she knows. Maya looks like she knows Mikey isn't doing well and she just reaches over and brushes a stray black lock behind his ear tenderly. "do you psychiatrists have a 6th sense or something?" he asks playfully "At your graduation do they give you the power of telepathy?"

Maya laughs and shakes her head no. "I just know"

It was nice. Having someone around who understood. It was nice having Maya around and he hopes that her acceptance of the situation isn't temporary. Mikey leans over and presses a light kiss to her lips. She's smiling, he's smiling. Maya is looking at him with those pretty eyes of hers and he likes this so much. Mikey hopes things stay like this and Maya doesn't fall out of the illusion she's put herself into.

If Maya were to ever turn away from him, to reject the love he so desperately craves, Mikey knows that he would do whatever it takes to keep her by his side. Even if it means resorting to drastic measures—to drugging her and starting all over again. Mikey would do it all again without batting an eye. He'd drug her, bring her back through the whole cycle of addiction and withdrawals and be right there for her as a saviour. "Does it taste good?" she asks as he eats

Mikey just smiles and nods and asks her to feed him which she does without question. Mikey is happy. He's been feeling that way since she got here and nothing, nothing in the world will take this away from him. Not again. He'll cling to Izana, he'll keep Maya. Mikey could care less about the voice in his head telling him they'll leave. He doesn't care. Mikey doesn't want to feel sad anymore. He refuses it. Mikey wants to stay happy and be selfish for once.

If his happiness is at the cost of Maya's freedom, so be it.

It's late. About 11 pm. Maya stirs from her slumber, her senses gradually awakening to the hushed stillness of the night. The soft rhythm of Mikey's breathing beside her lulls her back to consciousness, his presence a comforting anchor in the darkness. As she lies there, enveloped in the warmth of their shared bed, memories of the past few weeks flicker through her mind like fragments of a half-remembered dream. Since arriving at the beach house, her days have blurred together in a haze of sleep and solitude, punctuated only by the occasional interaction with Mikey or Izana. And yet, despite the tranquillity of their surroundings, Maya can't shake the lingering sense of unease that gnaws at her insides. Izana's presence looms like a shadow over her thoughts, a constant reminder of the darkness that lurks beneath the surface of their seemingly idyllic existence. But for now, in the quiet stillness of the night, Maya finds herself grateful for the reprieve from Izana's torment. Sure, he's been mean and cruel in the past, but at least he hasn't hurt her recently. At least he hasn't forced pills down her throat or subjected her to his twisted games. In the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, Maya watches Mikey's sleeping form beside her, his features softened by the gentle embrace of sleep. "so... pretty..." she murmured quietly, brushing a stray black strand of Mikey's hair away from his forehead

He's snoring and kind of drooling into the pillow but it's still cute. Mikey looks pretty. Maya's fingers linger on Mikey's forehead, tracing the gentle contours of his face with a tenderness that belies the tumult of her thoughts. In the soft glow of the moonlight, his features are softened by the embrace of sleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. She doesn't understand how someone this gorgeous could be on Japan's most wanted list. For all his faults and flaws, Mikey is a paradox—a complex tapestry of light and darkness, kindness and cruelty, love and loss. And yet, in the quiet stillness of the night, he is simply Mikey—vulnerable and imperfect, yet undeniably beautiful in his own way. As Maya sits up, her gaze drifts away from Mikey's sleeping form, a flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks at the realization of how long she's been watching him sleep. She chides herself inwardly for indulging in such a seemingly intrusive habit, feeling like an unwelcome voyeur in the sanctity of Mikey's rest.

Shaking off the unease, Maya reaches for the glass of water on the bedside table, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat as she takes a sip. The silence of the night surrounds her like a heavy blanket, punctuated only by the soft rustle of the bedsheets and the distant murmur of the ocean beyond.

Despite her best efforts to quell her racing thoughts, Maya finds herself unable to drift back into the embrace of sleep. She puts the glass back down and her hand knocks against the bedside table. "ow" she mutters, rubbing the back of her hand and turning on the small lamp

She looks over at Mikey hoping he didn't wake up from the sound. Relieved that Mikey remains undisturbed by the sound, Maya exhales a soft sigh and turns her attention back to the bedside table. The dim light of the lamp casts a warm glow across the room as she opens the drawer, curious to see what lies within. Inside, nestled amidst a jumble of miscellaneous items, Maya finds a small black box. She picks it up without thinking and opens it. Inside are... Polaroid pictures?

Oh.

Oh.

Maya knows what these are without even looking at them. These were the Polaroid pictures Izana was talking about. The pictures taken in those 2 weeks she has no memory of. Maya's heart skips a beat as she gazes down at the box of Polaroid pictures, her fingers trembling slightly as she contemplates what lies within. A sense of curiosity washes over her, tinged with a hint of apprehension, as she lifts the lid and peers inside. As she sifts through the photographs, a sense of wonder washes over Maya. The images are surprisingly tender and intimate, a testament to the unexpected romance that unfolded during those lost weeks.

Was this...

No way. Maya expected something crazy to have happened during those two weeks. She expected to see pictures where she was crying or something absolutely disgusting happening to her but no. None of that is in any of the polariods. Rather... Something else.

Maya's fingers tremble slightly as she gingerly lifts the first Polaroid out of the box, her heart fluttering in her chest at the anticipation of what she might find. But as her eyes land on the image before her, her breath catches in her throat, her cheeks flushing crimson at the sight of the intimate photograph. In the picture, she and Mikey are locked in a passionate embrace, their lips pressed together in a tender kiss. The angle of the shot obscures their faces, leaving only their silhouettes illuminated by the soft glow of the room. Mikey's bare chest is visible, the contours of his muscles highlighted in the dim light, while Maya's own form is shrouded in shadow, leaving her uncertain of her own state of dress. A wave of embarrassment washes over Maya as she realizes the implications of the photograph—that someone else must have been present to capture this intimate moment between her and Mikey. She puts the photo down back in the box and looks at the next. 

Maya's breath catches in her throat as she lifts the next Polaroid from the box, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected sight before her. In the photograph, she finds herself straddling Kakucho's lap, their bodies pressed close together in an intimate embrace. Despite the darkness obscuring her face, Maya can feel the heat rising in her cheeks at the sheer intimacy of the scene. Unlike the previous picture with Mikey, both she and Kakucho are fully clothed, a small relief amidst the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her. Kakucho's face is illuminated by a soft glow, his lips curved into a gentle smile that sends a flutter of warmth through Maya's chest. She can't help but notice the split in his bottom lip Her face remains hidden from view, shrouded in shadow, but Kakucho's expression is clear for all to see. She doesn't remember this moment, doesn't recall ever being in such close proximity to Kakucho in such a seemingly intimate manner. And yet, there they are, captured in a snapshot of time. She doesn't at all remember this and kind of hates that she lost this memory. Maya's heart skips a beat as she notices her index finger tracing the scar that mars Kakucho's face and his arms wrapped around her.

That was enough for her to look at. She puts it back into the box and picks up another which is of her and Mikey. Unlike the previous picture of them, this looks a lot more... Softer? No, cute would be the right word. Her face is visible for once and her pupils are blown out, eyes red-rimmed. She's clearly high in the picture. She's smiling— laughing— her lips smudged with lipstick and Mikey's face is littered with lipstick kisses. Maya puts that picture down after long minutes of just staring at it and picks up another.

It seems that this was of the same day. This next picture was just of Kakucho. It's his side profile. He's lying down somewhere with a cigarette between his lips, lipstick kisses littering his face as well and what looks like her hand tangled in his black locks. Maya turns as red as the lipstick and puts it back in the box.

The next picture makes her almost choke on her own spit. Her face isn't visible. Actually, there isn't anyone's face. It's just Maya's body and Izana's hand. She's fully clothed in it. Izana is barely in the picture, the only thing there is his hand that rests possessively on her chest, tanned fingers curled around her breast in a brazen display of ownership. She feels so shy looking at it. It's odd, she thinks, that Izana hadn't shown her this picture earlier, hadn't used it to mock her or make some crude comment. In fact, as she studies the photograph, a sense of curiosity overtakes her, a desire to understand the intentions behind Izana's actions.

Polaroids couldn't be copied, she realizes, which means this was the only copy there was. She could destroy it, erase it from existence, and yet, a part of her hesitates. Despite the discomfort and embarrassment she feels, there's a strange sense of intimacy in the image, a connection that defies logic and reason. Closing her eyes, Maya takes a deep breath, willing herself to calm the tumultuous storm raging within her. She knows she should feel outraged, should feel violated by Izana's brazen display of dominance. And yet, there's a part of her that can't help but be drawn to the raw intensity of his touch even through the photograph. Even with this picture, just like the rest, it's obvious someone else had taken it. 

She puts the picture back and picks up another. It was another one of her and Izana, this one in the living room and a lot softer compared to the last. Izana is lying on his back on the couch and Maya is on top of him. Her head is on his chest and his arms are wrapped around her. In this photograph, Izana and Maya are captured in a moment of rare vulnerability, their bodies entwined on the couch in the living room. Unlike the previous pictures, there's a palpable sense of intimacy in this one—a tenderness that belies the tumultuous nature of their relationship. It's as if time itself has stood still, freezing this fleeting moment of connection in amber for eternity.

As Maya continues to sift through the Polaroids, she discovers a series of images that range from intimate to erotic, each one revealing a different facet of her relationship with Mikey and Izana. Some depict tender moments of affection, while others capture more passionate encounters, their bodies entwined in a dance of desire and longing. But amidst the array of photographs, there's a common thread that runs through them all—the undeniable bond that exists between them, forged in the fires of adversity and strengthened by the trials they have faced together. As Maya gazes at each image in turn, she can't help but feel a sense of awe and disbelief at the depth of emotion captured within each frame.

The problem, however, lies not in the content of the photographs, but in the absence of memory that accompanies them. Maya struggles to reconcile the images before her with the blank canvas of her own recollection, unable to recall a single moment of the intimacy they portray. It's a disconcerting realization, to say the least. Here she was, expecting to uncover evidence of unspeakable acts, only to be confronted with a series of tender moments that she can't even remember experiencing. Mikey and Izana had indeed taken care of her, as they claimed, but the extent of their efforts had been shrouded in a fog of oblivion. Closing her eyes, Maya takes a deep breath, attempting to make sense of the conflicting emotions swirling within her. On one hand, there's a sense of relief that the truth isn't as sinister as she had feared. On the other hand, there's a profound sense of loss at the realization that she had been robbed of the memories of those two weeks. "Baby?" She hears Mikey say, his voice groggy from sleep "Whatcha' lookin' at?"

Mikey's arm goes around her waist and his chin hooks over her shoulder. "Ah," he murmurs, his fingers tightening slightly around her waist. "You found them, huh? Izana must've left them there."

Maya turns to look at him, a furrow forming between her brows. "Why would he leave them there?" she asks, confusion evident in her voice.

Mikey shrugs, his lips quirking into a small smile. "Probably forgot about them," he replies nonchalantly, though there's a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Or maybe he wanted you to find them."

Maya's gaze flickers back to the photographs, her mind racing with questions and uncertainties. What was Izana's motive behind leaving them there? Was it a gesture of remorse, or something more sinister? As she searches for answers in the images before her, Maya can't help but feel a sense of unease settle over her. The Polaroids offer glimpses into a world she can't remember, a world filled with intimacy and connection that she struggles to reconcile with her own fragmented memories. "I... I didn't expect to find... this. I'm... Trying to... make sense of everything." she mumbles, her voice tinged with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

Mikey's grip tightens around her waist, his touch offering silent reassurance in the midst of her turmoil. "You don't have to make sense of everything, pretty," he whispers, his lips brushing against her ear. "Just take it one day at a time."

Maya is silent, trying to think— to remember but— "Don't think so hard, baby" Mikey says, pulling the box easily out of her hands and reaching over her to set it on the bedside table "Everything's fine. Let's just get to sleep"

Maya nods wordlessly, grateful for Mikey's reassurance. She watches as he sets the box back on the bedside table, her mind still swirling with unanswered questions and unresolved emotions. But as Mikey pulls her close, his warmth enveloping her like a comforting blanket, Maya feels a sense of calm wash over her. "Yeah, you're right," she murmurs, turning off the lamp before she snuggles closer to him, seeking solace in his embrace. "Let's just get some sleep."

Mikey presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his arms tightening around her as they settle back into the soft embrace of the bed. In the quiet darkness of the room, Maya allows herself to relax, the weight of the Polaroids and their implications fading into the background as she drifts off into a peaceful slumber.

As the first rays of dawn filter through the curtains, painting the room in a soft, golden hue, Maya stirs from her slumber, feeling more rested than she has in weeks. The weight of exhaustion that had plagued her for so long seems to have lifted, replaced by a sense of tranquillity and contentment. Beside her, Mikey is still asleep, his features softened by the gentle light of morning. Maya watches him for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she recalls their conversation from the night before. After their first night together weeks ago, Mikey had confessed, in a sleepy murmur, that he hadn't slept that well in ages without the aid of sleeping pills. It had been a vulnerable admission, one that had touched Maya in ways she couldn't quite explain. Now, as she watches him sleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, Maya can't help but feel a surge of affection for the man lying beside her. Despite the tumultuous circumstances that had brought them together, there's a sense of peace and belonging that settles over her like a warm embrace. With a gentle sigh, Maya reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair away from Mikey's forehead, her touch light and tender. As her finger is about to trail down the side of his face, he suddenly grabs her hand and Maya gasps in surprise. Mikey's grip on Maya's hand is firm yet gentle, his touch sending a shiver down her spine. Startled by his sudden movement, Maya meets his gaze, finding a mix of emotions swirling in the depths of his dark sleepy eyes. "s-sorry did I wake you?" she whispers

Mikey's grip on Maya's hand tightens slightly, his thumb tracing circles over the back of her hand as he shakes his head slowly. "No, you didn't wake me," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. "I was already awake."

Maya's heart skips a beat at the intensity of his gaze, the raw vulnerability that flickers in the depths of his dark eyes. There's something in the way he looks at her, something unspoken yet undeniable, that sends a rush of warmth flooding through her veins. For a moment, they simply gaze at each other, the air between them heavy with unspoken words and unspoken emotions. It's as if time has slowed to a standstill, allowing them to exist in this moment of quiet intimacy, where nothing else matters except the connection they share. Feeling emboldened by the silent exchange, Maya leans in closer, her breath mingling with Mikey's as she closes the distance between them. Their lips meet in a gentle kiss, soft and tentative yet filled with a depth of emotion that words could never convey. As they pull away, Maya finds herself lost in the warmth of Mikey's embrace, his arms wrapped around her in a silent promise of love and protection. In this moment, surrounded by the soft light of dawn and the gentle rhythm of their breath, Maya knows that she is exactly where she belongs—wrapped in the arms of the man she loves.

Or well, the man she thinks she loves. This is love, right? It has to be. Mikey makes her heart flutter, he makes her feel warm. So, it has to be love right? Right? Is it too soon to call this love? Too soon to surrender herself to the intoxicating allure of Mikey's embrace? Or is she merely fooling herself, grasping at the illusion of love in a desperate bid to fill the void within her heart? It has to be love. This is what books described love to be. So that's what it has to be. She has to be in love with Mikey. "So," he says, his voice lightening with amusement, snapping her out of her thoughts "what's on the agenda for today?"

Maya chuckles softly, the tension of the moment dissipating as she meets Mikey's gaze with a playful glint in her eyes. "Well," she begins, a mischievous smile playing on her lips, "I was thinking we could start with breakfast. And then, who knows? The day is full of possibilities."

Mikey's eyes light up and then go dark. She's pushed onto her back, Mikey's knee slotting between her thighs as he gets on top of her, pinning her to the mattress. "how about a little snack before breakfast?" He murmurs, the tip of his nose knocking against hers

Maya's breath catches in her throat as Mikey's sudden change in demeanour catches her off guard. Her heart races in her chest as she feels the weight of his body pressing down on her, his proximity sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins. His knee between her thighs sends a jolt of electricity through her, igniting a fire that smoulders in the depths of her being. For a moment, time seems to stand still as they gaze into each other's eyes, a silent exchange of desire passing between them. The playful banter of moments ago is replaced by an electric tension, thick with unspoken longing and primal need. As Mikey's breath ghosts across her skin, Maya's pulse quickens, her senses heightened by the intoxicating proximity of the man she yearns for. She can feel the heat of his body seeping into her skin, his scent enveloping her like a warm embrace. With a soft gasp, Maya surrenders to the magnetic pull between them, her fingers tangling in the soft black strands of Mikey's hair as she pulls him closer. In this moment, there are no doubts, no uncertainties—only the raw, unbridled passion that courses through their veins, binding them together in a dance as old as time itself.

As their lips meet in a fevered kiss, the world falls away, leaving only the two of them lost in the throes of desire. And as they lose themselves in each other, Maya knows with a certainty that transcends words—this is love, in all its messy, beautiful glory.

Mikey pushes his shorts and boxers down just enough to pull out his cock. Mikey's lips never leave her's as his hand pumps up and down his length to bring himself to full hardness. Maya brings her hand down and she does it for him. As soon as her hand wraps around his length, Mikey whimpers into her mouth and Maya thinks her head exploded. 

He sounds so pretty.

Sure she had heard him whimper before— many times actually— but right now he sounded so pretty. Maya feels a surge of warmth floods her body, igniting a firestorm of desire that consumes her from within. His vulnerability, his raw need, it's all laid bare in that single sound, and Maya finds herself utterly captivated by the beauty of it. Oh god, she wanted to hear it again. So when Maya tightens her hand around his cock, Mikey makes the same pretty sound. Her hand moves her and down his length, thumb brushing over the sensitive tip. She can feel Mikey's thighs twitch and the hand that is resting next to her head to keep himself over her grip the pillow tight. They're not even kissing anymore. Mikey is just panting against her lips, inhaling and exhaling her air. 

She has never done anything like this for him before. It was usually just him pleasuring her. She's never done this before but it's clear she's doing the right thing with all the pretty noises Mikey is letting out and all the precum dribbling out of his tip. Each of his sighs, each halting, excited breath, sent pleasant shivers through her body, pooling in her center. Oh her cunt was throbbing just by listening to the noises Mikey makes. Her eyes open as Mikey finally pulls away from her mouth, pressing his face into her neck instead, letting out small broken moans and breathy whimpers she just couldn't get enough of. "Maya~" he chokes out, voice all shaky

Just from the sound of him whimpering out her name had her head spinning. Oh, he just sounded so pretty. Mikey's thighs twitched and she could tell he was about to come. She speeds up the pace of her hand on his cock but he suddenly stops her, grabbing her wrist. "F-Fuck wait" he mumbles, pulling her hand off him "Wanna come inside you"

Her shorts are loose and thin and easy to push aside. Mikey does the same with her panties and hastily flicks at her clit making Maya choke out a whine. She was soaking without him even having to do much— just by listening to him her cunt is soaking. Mikey presses his tip to her hole and just when she thinks he's about to push in, he doesn't. Instead, he looks at her, eyes heavy with lust and desire but also a different kind of emotion. "Hey. I don't want you spacing out after we're done" He murmurs, tone stern "I want you awake"

She did that a lot—space out after sex. But she couldn't really help it. It just happened. Maya knows thinking of the psychological aspect of her issue will only bring her more unhappiness and pain so she doesn't. "Okay... Okay I w-will— ahh~" she choked out, a moaning slipping from her lips when Mikey used his cock to slap against her clit

He pushes in, inch by inch, sighing with his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Maya trembles at the feeling of Mikey sliding in with no prep at all. The stretch burns so good but it barely hurts which is always surprising considering how fucking huge he is. Mikey hooks her knees up over his hips and doesn't even wait for her to adjust to his length as he starts thrusting right away. Maya whimpers out his name shakily, eyes rolling back and legs wrapping around his waist. Mikey makes her feel good. Every fucking time he makes her feel fucking amazing because he knows her body and what feels good to her. "fuck fuck s'good baby" Mikey groans, rutting into her hard

The breath is knocked out of her legs and her head is up in the clouds. It feels so good. The slight sting of pain and the pleasure of him hitting each sensitive little spot inside her cunt each time. "Mikey, Mikey, Mikey—" she moans out his name like a desperate prayer

Both of them feel like they're falling apart. Everything feels so damn good. "f-fuck 'm gon' come" Mikey whimpers and Maya mumbles the same

He starts thrusting faster and Maya's hand comes down to rub shaky figure 8s on her clit. It feels so good she doesn't know what to do with herself. Mikey and Maya come with little cries and whimpers, trembling and twitching from the earth-shattering orgasms. Her head is spinning and fogging up as she barely even feels Mikey pull out or fix her panties and shorts back over her cunt. She didn't realize it until Mikey suddenly grabbed her face harshly, fingers digging into her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. Maya barely can look at him as she feels an odd fog wash over her mind after she recovers from her climax. His eyes bore into hers, intense and searching as if trying to anchor her to the present moment. "Hey," he says, his voice soft yet urgent, "stay with me, okay? Don't drift off."

Maya blinks, trying to shake off the disorienting fog that clouds her thoughts. She feels a sense of detachment creeping in, like she's floating away from herself, from the world around her. It's a familiar sensation, one she's experienced countless times before—after sex with either him or Izana. "Stay with me," Mikey's voice is urgent, his eyes searching hers with a mixture of sternness and desperation. "Don't go away, Maya. Stay here with me."

It's hard though. Maya feels like she's floating but Mikey doesn't seem like he'll let up. He had told her he wanted her awake before they even started. She should try for him, shouldn't she? Her hands come up, weakly holding his wrists. "that's it. that's it" Mikey encourages "Stay awake"

So Maya tries to focus on something. Something that will keep her awake like Mikey wants. Focusing on the dull ache in her thighs wasn't enough so she thought about Izana instead and how he was coming back later that evening. Somehow, that works. Not as well, but she's still somewhat conscious. "good girl. good girl. You're doing well. Just stay awake"

As she focuses on his voice, his touch, Maya finds a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness, a flicker of strength that fuels her determination to stay awake, to stay with Mikey, if only for a little while longer.

Mikey often thinks about his past. From losing his mother— to permanently scarring Haruchiyo— to losing Shinichiro and then Baji— to losing Emma and then the rest of his friends. Mikey thinks he's been through a lot. It wasn't really fair. Perhaps tragedy was just in his blood. Genetic probably? His cheating father met his end in a car crash and his mother died of terminal illness still loving her unfaithful husband. Maybe this was genetic or a generational curse.

All Sano's face a terrible end and an even more miserable life. 

Had it not been for Izana, Mikey probably would have died. Mikey wonders if Izana is exempt from this curse as he did not take the Sano name nor was he Sano by blood. Izana was simply his brother because Mikey, Shinichiro and Emma said so. But did that exempt Izana from the curse? Mikey hopes it does. His big brother, his only family, didn't deserve to live miserably like he does— like they all did. But maybe that's what Maya was here for. She was like a dark in the light, someone who made the gross things in his head shut up for once. Oh did he adore her. "do you want to go out?" Mikey asks as they're watching tv

It's late in the afternoon. They've had their lunch and were just lounging around and Izana should be arriving around sunset. "hm?"

Maya is looking at him surprised. "outside?" She says the word as if she had never heard it before

Mikey nods and smiles. "uh huh. Outside. I remember you telling me you've never been on a motorcycle before. I wanna take you on mine"

Of course, she probably doesn't remember saying that but it doesn't matter. Maya's eyes widen with anticipation, her lips curving into a hesitant smile. "I... I'd like that," she murmurs, her voice tinged with uncertainty

Mikey grins and stands up, pulling her off the sofa with ease. He isn't concerned about her trying to run. After all, the double doors in the master bedroom has been unlocked for days now. "Alright, let's get dressed then"

Maya seemed to be a lot more excited about getting ready than actually go out and in Mikey's opinion, it was quite cute. It wasn't like he'd be taking her near non-Toman members. He couldn't have that. She wouldn't be safe. But it was cute seeing her pick out an outfit from her untouched clothes. She wears black jeans and a white crop top with this corset style lacing at the front and a black cropped cardigan. It was pretty new to Mikey considering he's only ever seen her in pyjamas or wearing his or Izana's clothes. She looks cute. Mikey himself gets ready too, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he puts on his leather jacket and gloves. He can't shake the feeling of protectiveness that washes over him, a primal instinct to shield her from harm, to keep her safe from the dangers that lurk beyond their doorstep.

In that moment, Mikey grapples with conflicting emotions. He isn't sure why he's thinking of this now but watching her clip her gold necklaces into place made him remember his conversation a few days with Izana where he had told him that Maya was just a kid and Izana replied that she was in fact not a kid but a 22 year old with a university degree. Mikey will admit that Izana was right with the implication that he was infantilizing her. 

Mikey may have been infantilizing her but at least he wasn't dehumanizing her like Izana.

At least he still treated her like another human being with feelings rather than a pet like Izana.

When Izana wasn't torturing her mentally, physically, spiritually— and any other way a person could possibly be tortured— he treated her like a wounded and sad animal from a shelter.

When Mikey wasn't emotionally manipulating her, he treated her like an abused baby he adopted from an orphanage.

He isn't sure which one is worse and which one is better.

"Okay, when I'm going too fast, tap me twice" Mikey instructs as he fixes the buckle of the helmet underneath Maya's chin as she stands before him on the driveway

The visor is flipped up letting him see her pretty blue eyes. Maya nods in understanding, her gaze meeting Mikey's with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "Got it," she confirms, her voice muffled slightly by the helmet.

Mikey smiles, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary as he adjusts the helmet strap. Despite the protective gear concealing her features, he can still see the glimmer of anticipation in her eyes, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She's beautiful, he realizes, in a way that transcends mere physical appearance. With a final pat on her shoulder, Mikey steps back, admiring the sight before him. Maya stands before him, her eyes alight with excitement. It's moments like these that remind Mikey why he's drawn to her—her resilience, her courage, her unwavering spirit that reminds him too much of— oh. No. Mikey shouldn't think of him right now.  "Ready?" he asks, a hint of excitement in his voice as he gestures towards his motorcycle, the engine humming softly in anticipation.

Maya nods eagerly, a sense of adventure flickering in her eyes. "Absolutely," she replies, her voice brimming with anticipation.

With a grin, Mikey swings a leg over the motorcycle, settling into the driver's seat with practiced ease. Maya follows suit, straddling the seat behind him, her arms wrapped snugly around his waist. As he starts the engine, the roar of the motorcycle fills the air, drowning out the sounds of the world around them. With a flick of his wrist, Mikey guides the motorcycle onto the open road, the wind whipping past them as they speed towards the horizon. For a moment, time stands still, and all that exists is the two of them, bound together by the promise of adventure and the thrill of the open, empty road.

As they ride along, the world seems to blur around them, the scenery passing by in a kaleidoscope of colours and shapes. Maya holds on tight, her heart racing with a heady mix of excitement and exhilaration. The wind rushes past them, tousling her hair and filling her senses with the scent of freedom. For Mikey, there's a sense of liberation that comes with the open road, a feeling of escape from the weight of his past and the burdens of his responsibilities. With Maya's arms wrapped around him, he feels a sense of connection and belonging that he hasn't felt in a long time.

They ride for miles, the landscape unfolding before them in an ever-changing tapestry of fields, forests, and winding roads. With each twist and turn, Maya's grip tightens, her trust in Mikey evident in the way she clings to him.

There's not a house in sight. Nothing near the beach house for miles. Maybe that's why Izana brought her here in the first place. So she would be completely helpless and nowhere to run to even if she somehow did manage to escape the beach house. No, he shouldn't think of that right now. He should think happy thoughts and hope Maya's fingers don't brush against the pistol concealed under his leather jacket. It was just in case after all. 

Despite the remote surroundings, Mikey focuses on the present moment, determined to make this ride a memorable one for Maya. He steers the motorcycle with practiced ease, navigating the winding roads with confidence as they continue on their journey.

As they ride, Mikey steals glances at Maya through the rear view mirror. He can't see her face due to the helmet but he knows she's smiling. He can feel the vibrations from her chest against his back with each giggle she lets out.  With each passing mile, the tension in his shoulders begins to ease, replaced by a growing sense of contentment. He knows that he should be vigilant, that danger could lurk around any corner, but for now, he allows himself to simply enjoy the freedom of the open road. As they round a bend in the road, the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape. The beauty of the moment is not lost on Mikey, and he finds himself smiling despite the weight of his worries.

For now, all that matters is the road ahead and the woman beside him, her trust in him evident in the way she clings to him.

They make it back to the beach house. The sun is about to set and Mikey drags her to the beach behind the house to watch it. As they step onto the soft sand, the vibrant hues of the setting sun paint the sky in shades of pink, orange, and gold. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore fills the air, creating a serene backdrop for the breathtaking spectacle unfolding before them. Mikey leads Maya to a secluded spot on the beach, away from the prying eyes of the outside world. They settle down on the sand, side by side, their shoulders brushing as they watch the sun sink lower on the horizon. For a while, they sit in silence, lost in the beauty of the moment. The weight of their worries fades away, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquillity. In this moment, it's just the two of them, sharing a rare moment of intimacy amidst the chaos of their lives. Mikey turns to Maya, his gaze soft and affectionate. "Thank you for coming with me," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

Maya smiles softly, her eyes reflecting the light of the sunset. "Thank you for bringing me," she replies, her voice filled with warmth and gratitude.

Maybe this was love, Maya thinks. It had to be. What she felt for Mikey(and maybe even Izana) was love. Mikey's presence beside her is both comforting and exhilarating. His warmth seeps into her, thawing the icy tendrils of doubt and uncertainty that have gripped her heart for so long. However, that doesn't last. "I..." Mikey says something then pauses for a moment "I'm sorry..."

Mikey's sudden apology catches Maya off guard, and she turns to him, her brow furrowing in concern. "What for?" she asks softly, her voice laced with confusion.

Mikey shifts beside her, his gaze fixed on the sand as if searching for the right words. "For everything," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "For lying to you, for drugging you, almost making you overdose, for forcing myself on you weeks ago, for..." He trails off, his words fading into the gentle sound of the waves.

Immediately, it was like those rose-coloured glasses Maya had been wearing all this time had been ripped off her face. A sick realization overcomes her as she remembers where she was and why and how. The weight of Mikey's words hangs heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the serene scene before them. Maya's heart clenches as she listens to his confession, each word landing like a blow to her chest. She feels as though the ground has shifted beneath her feet, leaving her adrift in a sea of uncertainty and doubt. For weeks, Maya had been living in a haze of false comfort, clinging to the illusion of love and safety that Mikey had provided. But now, faced with the harsh truth of his actions, she can no longer ignore the reality of her situation. The memories come flooding back— the drugs, the manipulation, the violation— and Maya's stomach churns with nausea. Her mind races, grappling with the enormity of what Mikey has just admitted. How could she have been so blind, so naive, to trust him so completely? The realization hits her like a punch to the gut, leaving her reeling and disoriented.

Mikey's apology is feeble, his excuses flimsy and hollow. He tries to justify his actions with half-hearted explanations, blaming his behaviour on everything from his troubled past to his misguided intentions. But Maya knows better than to believe his lies. She sees through his facade, recognizing the manipulative tactics he's using to deflect responsibility and avoid facing the truth. "Maya, I didn't mean to hurt you," he says, staring at the horizon "I was just trying to protect you, to keep you safe."

Maya feels disgusted so quickly. Not in Mikey but herself. How had she let it get this far? How could she have let him, Izana and Kakucho stop her from running? How could she stop fighting? Had she really believed her own toxic mind when it told her there was no one waiting? Mikey told her Chifuyu was looking. He implied people missed her. Even if she was declared dead by the police shouldn't they welcome her back and help her? There was a reason Chifuyu left Tokyo Manji Gang after all. 

Oh Chifuyu.

How could she forget him? Even if he didn't love her back it didn't mean he didn't love her. Her feelings of romance may have been unrequited but her feelings of friendship weren't. Chifuyu missed her and she knew it. Kazutora too. He had to. They both had to. "I just loved you so much. I didn't know what to do and I didn't want you to leave me like everyone else did so I did all of that" Mikey confesses, unaware of what is going on in her head 

She gets up, slow and steady as Mikey's eyes are still on the horizon. She wouldn't stay here. Maya wouldn't let this illusion take over her life. She was only 22. Maya won't let her life be wasted by being a plaything for some crazy psycho brothers. Her life was her own and she'll decide when it ends. Slow and steady she starts making slow steps back. She doesn't know where she'll run but she will. Maya will run and she won't come back. They won't catch her this time. "Maya...?" He noticed she wasn't sitting next to him anymore

She starts taking quicker backward steps, her sneakers crunching against the sand. Maya is fast. She knows she's fast. She can outrun him. In theory, that is. But Sano "Mikey" Manjiro was no Olympic speed runner. He was a fucking gang leader. She can outrun him. "Maya" his voice quickly turns more stern as he snaps his head around to see she is already so far from him

Mikey gets up fast. "What do you think you're doing?" There's a look of both anger and betrayal in his eyes

Maya doesn't let her resolve waver. She will get away. "Maya I swear to fucking god, come back here right now" he realizes she's trying to run

Maya's heart pounds in her chest as she continues to back away from Mikey, her mind racing with fear and determination. She can feel his eyes burning into her back, his voice ringing out across the empty beach, but she refuses to falter. Every step she takes is a step closer to freedom, a step away from the suffocating grip of Mikey and Izana's manipulation. She knows she can't stay here any longer, trapped in this toxic cycle of abuse and control. She'll get out of here even if it means dying in the process. "Maya, stop!" Mikey's voice echoes behind her, filled with desperation and anger as she turns her back to him and starts to run

She can hear the sound of his footsteps pounding against the sand, getting closer with each passing second. But Maya doesn't slow down. She pushes herself to run faster, to outrun the demons of her past and the chains that bind her to this place. It's faint but she can hear Mikey start to come after her. "I SWEAR TO GOD MAYA! STOP"

He's yelling and the sound is chilling. Her footing is unsteady on the long stretch of sand, making her a little slower. It reminds her of when she first got to this beach house. When Izana ran after her. But she was under the influence of some shitty drugs back then. Right now, she's completely sober. Maybe Izana was right. She was a bunny or a rabbit after all. A rabbit like her surrounded by wolves either learns to hop fast or grow its own claws. Maybe at one point she did grow claws. But Kakucho probably shaved them down. "I'LL TEAR OUT YOUR FUCKING HEART MAYA!" Mikey yells

She hears a clicking sound far behind her but it's muted by the sound of her own heart pounding loudly in her ears. Her legs ache with exertion, the sand dragging at her feet with each step. She can feel her breath coming in ragged gasps, her lungs burning with the effort of her escape. But still, she pushes on, driven by the primal instinct to survive, to break free from the chains that bind her. Mikey is far behind her. She can hear his footsteps getting faint. She thinks she's done it. She has right?

Her body hits the ground after she hears a loud bang. After Maya hits the ground, she feels the pain. It's not the same way they show in movies. Getting shot didn't make her scream but rather everything felt too hot and her heartbeat was all she could hear now. She's lying face down on the sand, trembling, twitching from the sharp pain. She gasps anguished, and breathes heavily as her chest feels too hot. Her mind reels with shock and disbelief, struggling to comprehend what has just happened. The world around her blurs into a hazy blur, her vision swimming with darkness and light. She can feel the warmth of blood seeping from the wound, staining the sand beneath her in dark, crimson hues. With each ragged breath, Maya's chest burns with intensity, her heartbeat thundering in her ears like a drumbeat of doom. She tries to move, to push herself up from the ground, but her limbs refuse to obey, weighed down by the heaviness of her injury.

Mikey shot her and she was going to die. 

Oh, what a fitting end. 

Deep down as she was running, Maya knew Mikey would catch her. She knew Izana wouldn't rest till he got her back either. Maybe this death was necessary. Her death was necessary because living wasn't an option anymore. With her death, Mikey and Izana don't get to have her.

Maya had grieved her own death the moment she got to this shitty beach house. So it was okay that she was dying.

Izana and Mikey wouldn't be able to catch her and that was all that mattered.

She won. 

"where is he?" Izana asks Kakucho as they stand over the unmoving body on the sand

"Inside with Sanzu" Kakucho answers

The beach is silent minus the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. The sun will completely set soon and it will be dark. Izana is crouched over Maya's quickly growing cold body, staring at her face, making out a slight smile on her cold lips. He scoffs. Around him stand Ran, Rindo, Kisaki and Kakucho. All of them are silent. Izana's gaze shifts down to Maya. Even in death, she was gorgeous. Eyes shut, skin paler than usual, white top soaked red. 

Mikey shot her in the heart. 

Izana reaches over and brushes her hair off her neck. He notices she's missing one necklace. Mikey's name comes to mind but he doesn't say a word and instead pulls her gold butterfly pendant necklace off her. Maybe he shouldn't have been gone for so long.  "bury her and... plant daffodils on top" Izana orders, his tone casual despite the severity of the situation

Kaneko Maya was already declared dead. Getting rid of her body would be a easy task for Tokyo Manji Gang. Kisaki pushes his glasses up his nose and says "They'll die after a while. Daffodils aren't meant for this soil or this environment"

Everything here is for you. It's yours bunny he said to her earlier. His bunny's beach. His girl's beach.

Izana only smiles, flicking a curly strand away from her cold forehead. "That's alright. She wasn't meant for this environment either"

His dead girl's beach.

"Why would a wolf look for love in the worn-down bones of a rabbit if not to eat her after gaining her trust?" —unknown 

notes: um haha. this is technically the last chapter. after this is the epilogue which transitions into the canon storyline. I am also really sorry if this went too fast or isn't satisfactory. I tried my absolute best on this chapter. Also for the last quote, can someone plz tell me where it's from so I can credit it properly. I hope you enjoyed the chapter :)

visuals of what I imagined the polaroids to look like(Pinterest links below) in order of mention(WARNING some nsfw pictures below):

polaroid 1, polaroid 2, polaroid 3, polaroid 4, polaroid 5, polaroid 6

also vote on this poll for my next series

likes, asks and reblogs greatly appreciated

special thanks to: @highpri3stess @mysouleaten @yaya4thawin @piroporopo @reiners-milkbiddies @bontensbabygirl @tenjikusstuff4 @fairey555 @haikyuusboringassmanager @firstdivisiongirl @bakuhoethotski @xoxowhateverxoxo @maraya-007 @dolfiins-art @short-cxke @maraya-007 @milky-aeons @asirensrage

[compassionatereminders]

mostly the thing that made me fall out with the system of psychiatry is just. how rigid it is and how unwilling to bend to the patient's individual needs, that if a treatment doesnt work its implied the patient didnt try hard enough to engage as opposed to....every single person is different and just because one treatment works for the majority of patients with that illness, the illness does not make all those people the same.

as well as that i also have issues with how people in the psych system trust their colleagues. i was psychologically abused by my psychiatrist for two years which consisted of him removing any medications, lying to me and discharging me for punishments. i tried to kill myself twice under him and his treatment of me caused that. he still works at the outpatients i attend bc who is going to believe a psychotic patient over a psychiatrist (which is another thing about the system that psychotic patients raising any concern is seen as delusion). and not only that but all his coworkers think hes a great guy. so how am i meant to get treatment for the damage he did to me when all of his colleagues are more inclined to try to protect their coworker than face the fact he is Abusive and Negligent to patients with personality disorders. How am I meant to get treatment for that trauma when all the system wants to do is protect itself first?

And that's not even bringing up how hard it is to be any kind of minority in psychiatric care. I've known Deaf people left on units without access to interpreters, essentially themselves from family, friends and anyone who speaks their fucking language, unable to defend themselves or even understand what doctors are telling them. As a trans person I have to go through my transition history every appointment. For what? and when transphobic legislation gets passed and I start thinking abt how i dont want to live in this world it is exhausting to phone a hotline knowing i will have to explain this whole thing to someone who doesnt know/care. and that black people are restrained, sectioned, diagnosed with schizophrenia and labelled aggressive at exceedingly high rates compared to white people. AND THEN the fact that Being a minority at all has negative effects on your mental health but psychiatry often seems to fucking treat mental illness like its exactly the same in everyone and will not sit down with minorities and hear them out on their struggles.

my like tldr is psychiatry is a system now and it refuses to engage with patients on an individual level it doesnt ask patients what they want and instead bases things off "reccommended treatments" which involve invasive interventions for certain diagnoses that patients dont get a choice in. and people are content to just have psych patients sectioned and isolated and they dont wanna think about the fact their human rights get taken away for indefinite amounts of time for WHAT?

it frustrates me endlessly. i dont want to be this ill but the system wont help.

Well said. I really hate how psych professionals will so often see a recommended treatment not working or making things worse and treat this as proof that the patient isn't trying hard enough instead of going "hey maybe this approach just isn't right for this person"

[arcanahangedman]

it fascinates me how the only hate i see for jundori is entirely projection and bad faith interpretation

chidori can be her own three-dimensional character, a homeless orphan abducted by evil corporate overlords for human experimentation, who grows up too fast and has to learn to fend for herself alongside other victims of this abuse, whose love of art and nature contrasts with her apathy to life and suicidal ideation

While. also. being a child who never got the chance for wider socialisation, bewildered by this weird guy’s interest in her art and his insistence on keeping an eye on her (bc she literally fucking c*ts herself in public and is then hospitalised) but his sheer compassion grows on her. someone called their relationship stockholm syndrome and ooooh my goooood Do u even know what that means.

junpei is a 17 year old kid. as a member of sees, he (like the rest of the group) has no idea what’s going on with the kirijo group or their operations, nor does he hold any power over their choice to hospitalise chidori. also she is there bc SHE LITERALLY SELF H*RMS LIKE ARE U DUMB

to act as if junpei is some sort of scheming villain that supports and is responsible for chidori being held hostage instead of being a scared kid, apart of an organisation he is kept entirely in the dark about, concerned about the safety of this other person his age who goes around assassinating ppl and c*tting herself…genuinely u could not think of a more disingenous interpretation of his character if u tried

i saw someone say that chidori is portrayed by fandom as junpei’s “no-panties mommy housewife” (almost that exact wording) and it’s like. What Are You Talking About No She Isn’t. She Is 16 Why The Fuck Would You Even Suggest That Or Word It That Way You Freak

it’s extremely bizarre to write off a ship bc u choose to engage with the cishet male incel side of the persona fanbase and view it through their perspective. like what does that have to do with their actual depiction in the game or ur average tumblr jundori enjoyer.

if u have issues with the power imbalance between the two of them, sure, it’s understandable. junpei is not the one being held against his will and chidori repeatedly protests staying in the hospital (i must stress that i, for one, do not think it wise to leave a minor who consistently self-h*rms without supervision :p) but the presence of a power imbalance does not automatically equal an abusive misuse of that imbalance

last note: ppl like to bring up junpei’s weirdo behaviour towards the other female cast members. i’m not going to treat this as insignificant but it’s also not particularly relevant unless ur arguing that junpei is seeking to control, perv on, or abuse chidori. Which he isn’t lol like he literally just wants to talk to her, stop her from c*tting herself, and show her that she can have a life outside of living on the streets and assassinating ppl with her merry band of men. the worst u could call him is naive (again. he’s 17.) but yeah he’s soooo controlling and abusive, guys !!

i’m not over here saying everyone has to like or support jundori, or either character. everyone has their preferences and idgaf about urs. but it would be sooooo great if we didn’t act as if one of these two children, both mistreated and left in the dark by evil corporate overlords, is actually a subservient overlord pawn who manipulates chidori so he can ?? keep her company when she’s alone and ask her about her feelings ????

anyway this isn’t supposed to be some epic final anti-jundori takedown so if u wanna discuss further, dm me. i don’t want no smoke just bc i think u ppl are genuinely weird 🩷

conclusion: i’m thinking about how that one persona ships poll had a 90% positive response to jundori so like Boom jundori sweep

[marvelslut16]

Plus One

Prompt number: 11 "Well that worked out great

Fandom: Stranger Things

Pairing: Robin Buckley x reader (modern au)

Rating: T(een)

Word count: 2.1k+

Warnings: Swearing probably. Homophobia. Hints of internalized homophobia. My bad writing. A rushed ending, I fear.

A/N: heh like pretty much everything I write this is loosely based off an experience I had. I came out to my cousin when I was 14 and was dating my ex girlfriend. She repeatedly asked me if I was sure I wanted to be with a girl and told me that I was just confused. She got engaged right before I started working on this, so it was cathartic to write, and it's been sitting in my wip's ever since so I figured I would finish it.

The invitation you received in the mail came as a surprise to you, and you’ve been livid in the moments since opening it. Your cousin Leslie, who is a few years older than you, is getting married, and you’d be happier for her if she wasn’t marrying her long time friend Adriana. Rereading the invitation for what feels like the one hundredth time, you’re hit with a painful flashback to highschool when you actually trusted Leslie. Trusted her so much that you came out to her. 

“Les, can I tell you something?” you fiddle with the strap of your purse as you await her response.  

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” her eyes widen and flick down to your stomach. 

“No, but now I’m getting rid of this shirt,” you sigh, flicking the hem of your brand new top. “It’s nothing like that, I just want to talk to someone about my crush. I’m too nervous to tell Robin or Steve about it, I’m not sure if they’ll support it.”

“Well who is he then?” Leslie perks up, excited that you’re actually getting out there. 

“She,” you whisper. You trust your cousin Leslie more than pretty much anyone else in your life, you’ve always felt comfortable opening up to her, the only person in your family you trust enough. “She’s drop dead gorgeous, she’s a little weird, and she-”

“It’s a girl?’ Leslie cuts you off, and that’s when you notice her expression. It’s somewhere between confusion and...disgust? “I thought you used to like Steve.”

“Yeah, in like third grade,” you laugh awkwardly, wanting nothing more than to rewind time to before you ever started this conversation. “Every girl did, and I only said I liked him to fit in.”

“(Y/N/N), let’s not be rash, you don’t really like this girl,” she puts her hand up to stop you when you open your mouth to defend yourself and your feelings. “I know you (Y/N), you love guys, you’re just confused.”

No matter how hard you tried to convince Leslie that night that you’re interested in girls, she wouldn’t accept it. From that day on you no longer trusted her, nor did you voluntarily talk to her nor her boyfriend of over five years, and he was practically your cousin at that point too. But what you do do, is push down your feelings for girls for years, and you date Eddie up until graduation even though you don’t have any interest in him, just to be normal.

“What’s wrong honey?” Robin’s voice drips of concern when she notices that you’re near tears staring down at a letter. All the hurt and anger you felt for and from Leslie for years comes rushing to the surface in the form of tears. 

You don’t know how to respond, your brain can’t seem to formulate any words at the moment, so you thrust the invitation into Robin’s hand. The confusion is so clearly written on her face, she can’t figure out why a simple wedding invitation can bring you, someone who hasn’t really shown vulnerable emotions in years, close to tears. 

“Your cousin, right?” Robin met her once years ago at a birthday party you had, back when you were young and you thought it was normal to want to marry your female best friend one day. “Do you not like her girlfriend or something?” 

“Yeah, I don’t like that she’s a girl,” your brain is going a mile a minute, and the look of hurt that crosses Robin’s face is proof that your mouth is working faster than your brain. “Wait, that didn’t come out right.”

“Yeah,” the brunette crosses her arms and takes a step back. “It came out homophobic.”

“She’s the reason I’m still in the closet,” you blurt out while tears start to cascade down your cheeks. “And now she’s marrying her best friend like it’s nothing, that what she said to me was nothing.”

“Wait, you’re-”

“I’m a lesbian, Robin, the only other person I’ve told was Leslie. She belittled me, she acted like I didn’t know what I was feeling, she made me feel like something was wrong with me. She spent hours telling me I was confused, and that I was really into boys. She pushed me back into the closet. She’s the reason I ever dated Eddie!”

“You like girls?” Robin asks again like she’s short circuiting at the information. 

“Yes! I don’t see why this is such a big deal to you, you’re the one that went out with two different women this month,” your angry tears are really starting to bubble up and you’re scared that you’re going to start sobbing if Robin doesn’t just drop it. 

“It’s just a lot to process,” she defends herself. She’s probably right, it probably is a lot for her to handle, finding out that her best friend is a lesbian just like her, when you had endless opportunities to tell her knowing that she would support you. “I can’t believe you never told me.”

“I’m going to my room,” you huff, spinning on your heels and stomping down the hall towards the bedrooms. Robin tries to catch your arm and keep you in place, but you dodge her hand at the last second and book it to your room. 

Flopping face first on your bed the tears start streaming down your face, you’re confused and that just upsets you more. Obviously, you want to be happy for your cousin and support her in her relationship; but at the same time you’re angry that the entire time she belittled you and made you feel worthless, she liked women too. 

“Honey,” Robin pops her head in your room a few minutes later. “Please talk to me.” She lays down on your bed next to you. 

“And say what?” you turn your head to peek out at her. 

“Let’s start with something simple, when did you know?” She rubs your back soothingly, trying to calm your tears. 

“When I was a kid; I went to a wedding when I was around ten and I started to imagine my wedding one day, and in this fantasy I was marrying a woman.”

“Why did you decide to tell your cousin?” Robin continues her line of questioning. 

“Because I trusted her then,” you shift onto your side and hide your face in Robin’s shoulder. “And I was pretty much in love with someone back then and I wanted to talk about it and I had no one to talk to, because you were still in the closet then and I was scared that you would judge me, or be disgusted by me, or hate me. I just wanted to get it all off my chest and ask for advice, but all I got was judgment from my cousin that was supposed to love me. We were close back then, and she ruined it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Robin wraps her arm around your waist and pulls you close when you start to pull away at the question. 

“Because I was scared, I didn’t know how to let someone in like I tried with Leslie. She was so disgusted that I felt disgusted with who I am. But, God, Robin, I’ve been keeping it in for so long. It hurt so much.”

“Oh honey,” she runs her hand over your hair, and you lay in her arms crying for what feels like hours. 

“Your invitation says you get a plus one,” Robin breaks the silence an hour and a half later. You lift your head from its place on her chest to make squinty confused eye contact. 

“Yeeeessss?” you’re trying to figure out what she’s getting at.

“I’ll go as your plus one,” she says like it’s the most obvious answer. “We can pretend that we’re dating and happy and stick it to her. Once she sees you happily with a woman I think you’ll probably feel better and be able to get over how she made you feel. You’ll be able to be authentically you once you do this.”

“You might be right,” you cuddle into Robin’s side again, clinging onto her. You may not be fake dating her yet, but you’ll enjoy any close proximity that you can until the wedding is over.

The next few months come and go with you and Robin coming up with things to say and little touches that you can do at the wedding to get Leslie to notice that you’re more than just friends. And you’ll admit to yourself, and only yourself, that you like all of the practicing of the touches. 

“Is that Robin?” Leslie asks at her reception, shocked that the little lanky brunette that followed you around when you were a kid is all grown up.

“Yeah it is,” you smile at Robin, casually entwining your fingers with hers. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your brain knows this was part of the plan, but your heart isn’t on the same page. 

“You guys are together?” Leslie asks slowly, like it’s the hardest thing for her to fathom. 

“We are,” Robin speaks up, lifting your entwined hands to her lips and delicately places a kiss on yours. Gone is the anxious timid girl, and in her place is this confident woman who's smirking at you. 

“Sharing an apartment made us realize that there was more here than just our friendship.” you give Robin a sly once over, once again appreciating how she looks in her pantsuit. 

You can see Leslie’s face twist, you aren’t close enough to her anymore to understand what the look means. But you do know that it doesn’t seem positive. Luckily, you’re saved by Leslie’s new wife calling her over to see her new in-laws.

Four hours and just as many drinks later, you're going back up to the bar to grab your fifth when Leslie corners you.

“Why are you with Robin?” Leslie asks, pulling you into a literal corner. 

“Why not?” you glare back at her, not understanding why she keeps this fucking going. 

“Why are you dating a woman?” she asks again, ironically sounding more and more homophobic with every interaction, at her own lesbian wedding.

“Why am I dating a woman? Because I’m a lesbian. Why am I with Robin? Because I’ve been in love with her since we were kids, Leslie!” You whisper shout, not wanting to draw attention from your family. “I tried telling you that years ago, and you shamed me. This is your wedding, you’re supposed to be celebrating your love, not trying to argue with me about my sexuality again.”

“Are you okay?” Robin asks, coming up next to you and wrapping her arm around your waist, glaring at Leslie.  

“We’re fine,” you turn in her hold, and wrap your arms around her neck. “I was just about to come find you and see if you wanted to dance.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” with one last glare at Leslie, Robin yanks you to the center of the busy dance floor. 

You’re holding each other close and swaying to the music, it feels like a dream. If only you had just become Mrs. Buckley, then it would be just like the dream you had when you were ten. 

“So you’ve been in love with me for years?” she finally whispers, you had hoped that she hadn’t heard that. 

“Maybe,” you whisper, not daring to pull away from her and look at her face. So long as you don’t look at her, you can imagine that she’s happy about this revelation. 

“Well I hope you have been, and still are, because I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.” This time you do pull away, you want to see the sincerity on her face, want to know in your heart and soul that she really means it. “Living with you has been torture! You’re always running around in those oversized tees and those skimpy little shorts that are practically just underwear. It’s been next to impossible not to do anything.”  

“Maybe I wanted you to take notice and do something,” You giggle. 

And do something she does, she pulls you in for a heated kiss. Your teeth clack with how fast she pulls you in, but you can’t be bothered to care. In fact, you realize it’s a perfect first kiss, so much pent up emotion and feelings that you can’t be apart for one second longer. Pain and consequences be damned, you’ve finally got your girl. 

“Well, that worked out great, I should have fake dated you sooner,” a breathless Robin mutters, and you can’t help but giggle at her reaction to your first kiss. She starts laughing too, and you can’t wait anymore and pull her into another kiss. 

[ropebuny]

have you even ever been raped before? it's just disgusting, because being raped is one of the most awful things in the entire world. i wish i could remove my pain and give it to someone who "wants" it.

I have been raped and sexually assaulted / abused multiple times throughout my childhood, both as a toddler and as well as a young teen, by strangers as well as friends (who I thought were my close friends at the time, who I could trust) & by my high school boyfriend at the time, as well as by a family member. I am fully aware how disgusting it is and what a horrible experience it is, and I have been diagnosed with ptsd because of how these experiences have negatively impacted me going forward in my life. I have panic attacks when walking anywhere alone, I literally cannot be left alone with an older stranger or I will have a panic attack, I have constant flashbacks and nightmares and intrusive thoughts bringing me back to my assaults every single day, my main reason for self harm have always been these experiences, and I never received any justice for what had happened and I had also never received any support from my parents or friends at the time. I could never talk about these experiences with anyone because it was too taboo to bring up, no one wants to hear that and people would get visibly uncomfortable when I tried to speak on it. I completely understand what a sick act rape and sexual assault are, and how badly it can fuck you up because my experiences have definitely completely rewired my brain to the point that I never feel truly safe when left alone with someone, close friend or not. I have also been sexually assaulted multiple times since turning 18 and becoming legally an adult, though the cnc fantasy is mostly based around my childhood trauma. it’s where my fantasy to be taken against my will stems from mostly. I want to be able to turn these past experiences into enjoyable ones with my lover, and I want to feel safe knowing that it’s not real. feeling the security in knowing that I can say a safeword whenever and they will immediately stop. that makes me feel like I am now the one in charge. that I am the one who has the ability to choose whether it continues or not, because when I was being assaulted in real life, I always froze. I always froze and did nothing to help myself or stand up for myself, I just let it happen out of freezing terror that overcame me. when playing around with a partner, I have that security that it’s not real, that I’m not actually in danger. that I am the one in charge finally.

I feel really fucked about having these desires too, and me and my psychiatrist have been trying to work out what might be beneficial for me and he seems to be accepting of me exploring cnc with someone I trust and reshaping my traumatic experiences into something new, into feeling desired on an unhealthy level by my partner. I’m not too sure how to explain it. I apologise for any discomfort my posts have caused you and I am sorry for what you went through. my posts were never meant as me wishing genuine and non-consensual trauma upon myself, it was all meant to be understood as consensual play between me and a trusted, loving partner. my posts were never meant to be condoning these acts in the real world, outside of consensual play between adults who love each other. I know that I am safe when indulging in this play with my trusted partner, and it turns that previously negative experience into a now positive one that brings me closer to my partner due to the intense trust that we have been able to form in order for me to even want to engage in such play. it’s not something I engage in with random people, I need to know and trust the person who is roleplaying as an abuser. but that’s just how I personally experience cnc, I know others don’t mind engaging in this kind of play with strangers as well.

I understand your concerns, and I really hope you are healing from your experiences, but I also don’t feel too good having to write out my defense on here on why I should be ‘allowed’ to have certain fantasies. I don’t like talking about the real rape / sexual abuse that were forced on me throughout my childhood, many people on here get off on actual trauma stories and I never felt comfortable bringing up my real experiences because of that very reason. that’s why I never went into detail regarding what trauma I personally have and have not experienced on this blog because I wanted to keep it strictly sexual and consensual on my page, and I never felt that me bringing up my real experiences, especially the ones from my childhood, would benefit me in any way at all - and might actually, and very likely, put me in uncomfortable situations with weird people (who are into getting off on real trauma stories) then engaging with me.

I remember seeing a girl on here being asked by an anon if she’s ever been raped and she replied with something like “nooo, I wish I was >_<“ and I remember how horrible it made me feel regarding my experiences as well. so I entirely understand where you’re coming from and I am truly sorry for the trauma that you have experienced and I apologise that my blog has affected you in a negative way, it was never my intention. although people who have been abused throughout their life, like you and I, are very likely to develop sexual desires and kinks that explore their trauma. but sometimes, people who have no experience with that whatsoever, like that girl I mentioned a few sentences ago, will also develop them. and they aren’t necessarily automatically bad people for it either. it all depends on how you act outside of kink. although within kink respect of course still always matters, e.g. if you ignore a safeword you are a bad person, end of. I meant it more like the goodness of your heart is shown more when it comes to real situations, outside of kink; like the respect you have towards victims and towards your traumatised partner with whom you are indulging in this sensitive fantasy play with, how you treat these people outside of the kink world, in the real world where it’s different & it’s not just strictly fantasy and pretend. and that you are able to differentiate the two worlds, and are able to understand how certain kinks should not align with your real, genuine values or morals (e.g. being into cnc as a kink shouldn’t mean that you support or condone real rape and sexual assault, being into ageplay shouldn’t mean that you support or condone child exploitation, being into superiority & inferiority powerplay shouldn’t mean that you support or condone the patriarchy, being into petplay and enjoying seeing your partner act animalistic or wear animal ears & tails shouldn’t mean that you support or condone people having sex with real animals, etc). it’s all a play pretend fantasy, and the way people act within the kink world can drastically differ from how they act in the real world. your real life values & morals, and the way how you treat real people in real everyday situations, matters. and what you do consensually with a trusted and loved partner (and what is considered solely fantasy and play) consensual and appropriate environment, shouldn’t influence how you see the real world, the world outside of kink.

EDIT: I literally proved my point about how bad people on here will immediately jump at the opportunity to message you as soon as they find out that you have real genuine trauma, by receiving this dm not even 20 minutes after posting this ask answer:

[elizabethemerald]

Gala Daze DPxDC

AO3

“What a great idea Vladdie!” 

“I don’t know Jack…” 

“Oh I assure you, my dear Maddie that Daniel will be perfectly safe with me. I won’t let him out of my sight for a moment.” 

“Come on Maddie, it would be a perfect opportunity for our Danno to bump elbows with some rich bigwigs!” 

“Well maybe he can talk to them about getting some funding for ghost extermination. Very well Vlad. You can take Danny to Gotham.”

Danny was disassociating. While not entirely a new state of being, a dissociative episode had never lasted this long for him. He had been fully checked out from his body ever since the flight from Amity Park to Gotham. He had been thinking about turning intangible and just letting the plane fly through him so he could go home, when Vlad had leaned over to him to whisper in his ear. Vlad said if Danny stepped even one toe out of line, or did anything to embarrass him, Vlad would overshadow as many people as it took to ensure that Jazz was turned down by every college she applied to. He would ruin her entire future if Danny did even one thing wrong. 

Danny had started disassociating after that. 

His parents had done a lot to hurt him and Jazz. Usually the harm the elder Fentons did to their children was either accidental or unknowing. Like when Jazz was sick for days after the Thanksgiving dinner where Dad tried to fry the turkey in ectoplasm or like when they shot Danny when he was out as Phantom. 

However this time there was no excuse for them hurting their kids. If they ever listened to their children they would know that Danny hated Vlad and Jazz didn’t trust him. The kids had said over and over again for years that they didn’t like Vlad, but no! Uncle Vladdie could do no wrong! Danny and Jazz were just making things up for attention. 

Ancients, Danny hoped that he could keep his nose clean for the trip, he didn’t want to be responsible for Jazz having to give up her dreams of getting into an Ivy League school. He had lost huge swaths of time. He barely remembered leaving the airport and the next time he was cognizant they were heading to the gala in the tailored suits Vlad had ordered. 

Fortunately Vlad loved nothing more than the sound of his own voice, not even Danny or his mom. So he was more than happy to talk to the people around them about Danny and any time someone asked Danny a question he would be the one to answer instead. Vlad kept his hand either on Danny’s shoulder or on the back of his neck at all times so he couldn’t even slip away. 

Now he was talking to some rich fruitloop who kept trying to engage Danny in conversation. Brucie? Wait? Bruce Wayne? Yeah the guy was rich but why would Vlad go out of his way to introduce Danny to this airhead? 

“Well, yes, my son Damian does have many interests, but I can’t say that any of them have to do with NASA's latest satellite.” Mr. Wayne was saying in response to something Vlad had said. Ah. That made sense. Vlad wanted to brag, shove his superiority into Mr. Wayne’s face. Brucie turned to address Danny. “Tell me Daniel, what do you know about NASA's deep space satellite?”

“Uh, I prefer Danny actually, Mr. Wayne.” Danny said. Mr. Wayne’s eyebrows rose marginally considering those were his first words during this conversation. “And I-”

“Yes, Daniel really is attached to that childish nickname, isn’t he?” Vlad spoke up again. “Really Brucie, you would think children would grow up at some point. We should discuss this more over a game of golf next week…”

Danny let Vlad’s words wash over him again. The worst thing about Vlad was he really knew how to push Danny’s buttons. Of course he would bring up the new satellite only to show off to his rich rival, then not even let Danny talk about it. And then insulting him for his name! Prick!

He tried to avoid looking at Brucie’s concerned face. Obviously he was a socialite and knew all about the proper behavior for galas, and Vlad probably wasn’t meeting those social rules. There was a small part of Danny’s chaos-gremlin brain that wanted to say something seemingly innocuous but super sus if you thought about it. Nothing would make Danny happier than getting Vlad investigated for something stupid like tax fraud, but he couldn’t risk Jazz’s career just for spite. Or gremlin urges. 

Vlad moved his hand from Danny’s shoulder down to his lower back. Danny did everything he could to keep the snarl he wanted to make at that action from coming out. He still couldn’t help the full body shudder that shook his frame for a fraction of a second. Vlad shot him a look filled with malice and promised pain so Danny reigned himself back in and put his attention firmly on the floor in front of him. 

Danny clenched his fists, driving his nails into his own palms. He was sure he was bleeding, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t do anything. He hated feeling powerless. You would think that after the portal accident and him gaining actual real powers the feeling would be far more rare, except it happens far too often and he hated it. His hands were shaking with rage and suppressed desire to punch Vlad right in his smug, manipulative, fruit-loop face. 

He chanced a glance up just in time to see a girl melt out of the shadows near the wall. If he didn’t know better he would say she was a ghost with how easily she was able to appear. But she definitely wasn’t a ghost. Perhaps a touch liminal, but not a ghost. And she was watching him. 

Danny tilted his head slightly to get a better look at her and she tilted her head to match. Her eyes flicked to the two adults for only a fraction of a second to confirm they were still engaged in whatever conversation they were having, then her hand came up and she signed for letters in what Danny recognized as ASL. 

“R U O K.” 

She merely looked the question at him. He risked a peak at Vlad, but he was focused on trying to strong arm Brucie into meeting for a golf match and some private drinks. Other than his thumb rubbing circles into the small of Danny’s back he wasn’t paying any attention to him. Danny looked back at the girl who was watching him intently. He gave the smallest shake of his head he could, hoping that Vlad wouldn’t notice. The girl nodded and slipped effortlessly back into the shadows, all but disappearing from view. 

Several more minutes went by of mindless conversation with Mr. Wayne seemingly had given up on trying to get Danny to answer questions. He let his mind drift again to his beloved stars as he began naming the stars in biggest constellations visible in the night sky. 

For a while Danny thought that nothing would come of the mystery girl who had checked on him, until a crash echoed across the hall from the entrance of the gala hall. Vlad finally released Danny’s shoulder to whirl to face the noise. Then to his surprise, Mr. Wayne turned as well to put himself in between Danny and the crash, effectively hiding him from Vlad. At first he thought that was just serial adopter Brucie Wayne’s first gut instinct in a crisis, putting his body between a threat and the nearest black haired kid. 

However, immediately after Mr. Wayne stepped in front of him, two kids appeared out of the crowd, grabbed Danny’s shoulders and started to drag him away. He recognized the asian girl who had signed to him, and the other was, even more surprisingly, Damian Freaking Wayne! That meant that the other girl must be Cassandra Wayne! Sam had made sure Danny knew all the Waynes before the topic of the gala had even come up. Apparently the Waynes were the only people who made the events her parents dragged her to worth it. 

Damian and Cassandra maneuvered through the crowd so effortlessly Danny had to take a moment to check if they were using intangibility. The trio weaved through as the noise behind them got even louder until they pulled him into a back room of the hall where a very tired looking Timothy Drake-Wayne was already there on his laptop. He looked up at Danny in confusion for a second before returning his attention to the computer in front of him. 

“Don’t worry, that noise was just the chandelier in the entrance hall falling. Apparently it couldn’t take Dick’s weight.” Timothy, actual real CEO of Wayne enterprises said. Tucker would be losing his mind right now. 

Cassandra settled Danny into a chair while Damian marched up to Timothy. Danny could finally take a moment to look properly at the Waynes. All three of them wore elegant, likely name brand suits. Timothy was wearing a plain white shirt under his suit jacket while Cassandra and Damian wore black on black suits, though Damian’s did have some green highlights at the lapels and pockets. Timothy looked like his eye bags had eye bags, which Danny could relate to. 

“Father ordered you not to work for the night of the Gala.” Damian snapped. When Timothy didn’t dignify that with a response the youngest Wayne turned back to face Danny. “Vladimir Masters escorted you to the gala tonight.” 

Danny couldn’t help but snort. 

“What a polite way of phrasing that.” He said with a dark chuckle. 

“Would it be more accurate to call you his hostage?” Timothy asked from his chair, where he was still focusing on his computer screen and whatever it was he was working on. 

That brought Danny up short. He tried to stutter out a denial, but Damian quickly spoke over him. 

“Has he hurt you? Threatened you or someone you care about?” Damian demanded. 

“N-no!  He would never lay a finger on me!” Danny was quick to say, trying to project as much confidence as possible. Cassandra moved her flat hand in line across her face. Damian glanced at her and his eyes narrowed at Danny. 

“You don’t have to lie to protect him. We can protect you, our family has resources.” 

Danny shook his head over and over again. 

“I can’t talk about it. I can’t talk about it. I can’t talk about it.” He had to repeat himself, the phrase trapping themselves in his mind as he kept saying it over and over again. 

If he told them what Vlad had done to him, Vlad would ruin Jazz’s entire life. He already regularly tried to kill his father, but there was no telling what he would do to Jazz. Danny couldn’t tell them about being thrown into walls during his fights with Plasimus, or the clones Danny had watched melt in his arms under Vlad’s uncaring eye. He almost jumped out of his skin when a hand came to rest on his shoulder. 

While he was panicking, Damian had withdrawn, visibly uncertain about how best to approach him. Cassandra and Timothy had come closer, Cassandra had her hand on his shoulder providing a calm, steadying presence. Timothy had closed his laptop and scooted forward his attention now fully on Danny. He made some motion to the others that seemed to symbolize that he was going to be taking point. 

“You’re not from Gotham originally, is that right?” When Danny nodded he continued. “We have some heroes here in Gotham. Believe it or not, we Waynes get kidnapped a lot, get rescued a lot. We know some of the Bats, they could help you.” 

Danny was already shaking his head again. 

“No, no no! That’s even worse. The worst thing that can happen if you Waynes help me is Brucie gives Vlad WE for pennies on the dollar and Vlad gets even richer. But if you get Batman involved, then he could have a man inside the JL. He could turn them against the people, use them as a tool to take over whatever he wants. He could overthrow the Ghost King…”

Now Danny was really panicking. He had muttered the last bit, terror carving its way through him. It would be like the absolute worst of the fight with Pariah Dark and Dan all over again. Danny would have to fight, and maybe kill the Justice League to stop him. If he won, he would have to eradicate Earth’s heroes, and if he lost Vlad would become King of the Infinite Realms. 

“You are talking about mind control.” Damian said, his eyes wide.

“No! Not mind control. Overshadowing. Humans call it possession.” Danny was rambling now. Desperately trying to convince these silly rich people not to get involved. Danny was a lost cause, he couldn’t be helped. All he could do was keep his head down long enough for Jazz to get into her college of choice. The Waynes glanced at each other nervously for a moment and Damian pulled his phone from his pocket. 

“I think I need to make a call.” 

Danny snapped his head up, his attention on the far wall as his breath came out in a foggy puff, like he had just walked into a freezer. He didn't know it but his eyes were blazing green at that moment. 

“It’s too late now.” 

The Waynes all step back or slouch against their chairs. Only a second later the door to their room snaps open, Vlad furious, his once spotless suit now covered in red wine and assorted finger foods. His eyes burned red with rage as he locked onto Danny. Timothy immediately stood to his feet. 

“Ah, Mr. Masters.” Vlad pulled himself back from his rage with difficulty to acknowledge the young CEO. “We were just coming out to look for you. Your ward was grabbed by our security team. Small case of mistaken identity. It's standard procedure during these sorts of events to get my brothers and sister to safety in the event of another terrorist attack. Or worse a Joker attack. Thankfully it seems everything is under control. You may take your charge now.” 

Timothy brushed past Vlad without another comment. Damian glared at him, but he glared at everyone, while Cassandra just stared at Vlad, unblinking, like some kind of demonic cat. Her complete lack of reaction obviously weirded Vlad out even more than Damian’s aggression. 

“Oh I’ll do that.” He grabbed Danny’s arm hard enough to bruise. “Come Daniel. We’re leaving.” 

Danny turned away from the Waynes as he was dragged out the door. He didn’t want to face their pity. At least he did a good enough job convincing them that they can’t help him. Now he just had to last long enough to get back home again. He let himself checkout, ignoring Vlad’s crushing grip on his arm as he dragged from the gala and back to the hotel. 

When Danny next checked in with his body it was to Vlad screaming in his face and burning pain in his body. In Vlad’s furious race out of the Gala after his humiliation he had pulled Danny’s arm out of his socket. And to emphasize his points Vlad would hit him with ecto fire, each hit destroying more of his once nice suit and leaving burns on his body. 

“You think you can just toy with me in front of these richest elite? I will make your life hell! I will make your sister’s life hell! She’ll be lucky to make a living on the street corners of a shit hole like this!” He gestured out to the window, which Danny belatedly realized was open. “I just don’t understand why you make me do this to you, Daniel. Little Badger, you are forcing my hand and I-”

He shrieked as a batarang whipped from the open window. The lights in the hotel room flickered for a second and Batman, Robin and Orphan were standing in the room when the lights returned. Vlad turned to them, furious that they would interrupt. 

“Vladimir Masters. We have some questions for you.” Batman growled. 

“No! I think you’ll find Batman, that I have some questions for you!” Vlad’s eyes flared red. Danny tried to stop him but he was backhanded away

Vlad floated into the air as his ghost transformation rolled over his body. He reached out to grab Batman but before he could several things happened at once. First and most shockingly, Robin drew a katana and cut off Plasmius’ hand at the wrist. Then several voices shouted out at once.

“Azarath Metrion Zinthos!”

“Dnib siht tirips ot sti ydob!” 

“Puer iste spiritus maxime!”

Chains of gold, purple and blazing fire wrapped around Plasmius again and again. The chains dragged him down to the ground even as he snarled and swore at them. A man in a trench coat, a woman in a long black cloak and an actual stage magician appeared in the room, magic sparking at their fingertips. Cassandra had bypassed the battle completely to come to Danny's side, though she did still have her weapons in her hands. Batman turned to address him, ignoring Vlad’s continued vitriol in the middle of the arcane trap. 

“You’re safe now Danny. You don’t have to worry about him hurting you ever again. This I swear.” Batman said, his voice just as serious as it ever was, and for the first time in his life, Danny felt like he could actually believe it when someone told him he was safe. He collapsed to his knees, shuddering sobs shaking his body. He was safe, Jazz was safe from Vlad’s machinations. Maybe this nightmare could finally be over. 

[katerinaaqu]

👉👈 saw the posts about the ages in the odyssey/iliad

And was wondering do we know how much time (roughly) passed between the suitors of helen made the oath and the start of the trojan war?

Aka how old was Odysseus when he suggested the idea with the Oath and got at the very least engaged with Penelope

Hello Hello! Thank you so much for the question and I am sorry if it is long!

As you know I estimated Odysseus's age in my analysis to be around his mid-30s at the beginning of the war, mid to final 40s at the events of the Iliad till the end of the war and in his mid to final 50s when he returns home to Ithaca. That being said he is one of the oldest kings around probably (although the others of the same age group are most likely close enough)

Time line is not cut clean of course given the many different sources that exist. Apollodorous has a very extended timeline. I believe he got inspired by local traditions but also the phrase that Helen uses at Iliad that she has been "20 years there" which most likely is a euphemism to say "I've been here too long". He has a very extensive timeline that makes the heroes have two gatherings that are a decade apart but I think that is way too outstretched of a timeline so I go with the more simple one at least as far as Homer is concerned with one gathering at Aulis (or even if there was anoter gathering not it being like 10 years apart, that makes the timeline too extensive). I believe there is a general agreement though in the sources that roughly a decade passes from the Oath of Tyndareus till Paris's arrival to Sparta and Helen going with him to Troy. There are some sources that say they spent around a year roaming about in a sort of honeymoon where they consumate their marriage. So I should say around a decade passes from the Oath of Tyndareus till the moment the war breaks out. Maybe with one or two years of difference for the preparation.

Now that second part is interesting. There isn't much to suggest on the maritable ages of the Mycenaean times but during classical Athens the ideal age for marriage for men was considered 30 and for women around 16. I am using this as a guideline but I believe that the ages of mid-20s was a reasonable age for someone at the bronze age to consider marriage. By some accounts Odysseus wasn't even entirely bothered to bring gifts to Helen because he wasn't convinced he had chances with her. That being said that must have been beyond his appearance or his wealth. My estimation would be his age too if let's say he had to compete against Menelaus or Aias/Ajax who were both quite younger than what he was (particularly Ajax)

My estimation is that he was in his mid-final 20s (somewhere between 26 and 28 or 29). Penelope, by my logic, should have been at least a decade younger in order for her 20 years later to still be considered for marriage and having children so obviously she wasn't his age otherwise she would be in her 50s in the Odyssey and even by modern day standards women are not particularly fertile if at all in their 50s. So my estimation is that she must be tops in her mid-40s in the Odyssey making her anywhere between the ages of 16 to 19 when she meets Odysseus. That is even further backed up by the fact that Agamemnon says that he left Penelope a "young bride' (νύμφην και νέην) which is translated both as "newlyweds" or "young wife" implying that Penelope was considered a young woman when she married.

Now I am not sure how much we can assume on engagements in Bronze Age unless it was two kids from families promised to each other. In fact sources like Pausanias speak on how Icarius tries to stop Penelope and Odysseus returning to Ithaca because he wanted Odysseus to remain to Laconia. Odysseus gives Penelope the choice to continue their marriage or stay with her father, implying they were already married by that time he traveled to Sparta.

So yup I believe he was in his mid or final 20s so that around 10 years later he is forced to join the Trojan War in his 30s, finishes by his 40s and finally returns home in his 50s I hope this helps or makes sense to you ^_^