#but alas- she is far too busy to think about such things

[sophie-looks-at-stuff]

Hi love! I hope you are doing well ☺️

If possible could I request a Aemond X reader? Maybe something where he takes notice of a hobby reader likes and surprises them with something related to it?

Piece de Resistance

Pairing: Aemond x Wife Reader

Summary: Aemond stumbles upon your love for the arts, painting, drawing, sketching, and the like. <3

Warnings: none I don't think, Aemond being a cute and supportive husband. a good moment of domesticity :)

AN: Hello! I absolutely love this request! I hope I did it justice haha. Thank you so much for submitting it! The picture is from Pinterest! It's St Augustine by Philippe de Champaigne.

It wasn’t often you got a moment to yourself nowadays. With your husband acting as Prince Regent in his brother’s absence, you and he both were kept rather busy. Him with the Small Council and issues of the realm, you with the petty social gossipings and happenings of the Court. So rare moments of peace and quiet like this were highly coveted.

Your marital chambers echoed with emptiness as you entered and looked around. The curtains you had chosen fluttered in the breeze. Aemond had not wanted them, but ultimately he conceded, never being able to say no to you. 

He must be in a Small Council meeting, you thought. Or perhaps training with Ser Criston, letting off some steam. Your husband seemed to have an ever-constant knot of stress in his shoulders and neck. You’d tried to massage it out many a time, but it never seemed to budge, or it ended in a much different sort of activity –

Under your armoire, lay a dusty, maroon-red box. You bent down, moving to pull it out of its little hiding spot. You had snuck it under there after you had moved into Aemond’s chambers. The day after your wedding. Aemond had insisted that you move to his quarters as soon as possible. He didn’t like being separated from you more than necessary. If he could, he would have you seated on his lap in Small Council meetings or even when he sat on the Iron Throne. But alas, that was a touch too far, and people would talk. As they always do –

Your husband was kind and dotting, if not overprotective and possessive of you. You had known one another since you were children. Your house and family coming to visit the Court, your mother and the dowager Queen had been friends since their youth. They had hoped that you and Aemond would get along well, and you did, famously so. When he had lost his eye, you had come to the Red Keep, to offer him comfort and company. You had never left after that. 

Your fingertips graze over the top of the box, as you rest it on top of your bed sheets. Leaving an empty trail in their wake. The lock lay rusted and golden on the front, pulling a small key from the pocket of your skirt, you unlock it. A small, soft resounding click bounced off the walls. As you gingerly opened the lid, the stale smell of linseed oil filled your nostrils. Small metal tubes of colorful paint lay untouched in the box. Clean bristles and dirty brush handles scattered about, small rolls of blank canvas. All of which lay, unmoved, unbothered, from the last time you had used them. 

When you were little, you had complained to your mother once about the bore of your lessons. For your tenth name day, she had brought in a painter from Highgarden to tutor you. He had taught you how to mix colors and paint the prettiest flowers. As you grew older, he taught you more complicated things, like ladies in bushy skirts, and golden dragons in the sky. An odd prophecy of your future.

Taking some basic colors, red, blue, yellow, and white, some brushes, and a small roll of canvas, you set up shop at your dressing table. For the time being, altering it into a makeshift desk. Deciding to paint what you knew best, you began to sketch out a dragon among roses, with some charcoal that you had borrowed from Aemond.

He wouldn’t miss it, you thought. He had a small goblet full of charcoal and quills, hiding amongst the piles of books and scrolls on the table. Which he used to plot his war games, or occasionally take dinner with you. When you both grew tired of his family and their bickering. 

The dragon began to take form on the canvas, it looked slightly like Vhagar, large, old, and wrinkly. Her age showing in her face and eyes. Around her, you drew roses, peonies, daffodils, lavender, a great colorful bouquet. Once you had begun mixing the paints, on a makeshift pallet made of spare parchment paper. The other sounds of the world seemed to fade away, the monotony of the act being therapeutic. A much-desired mindless activity in the middle of the war you all found yourself in. You would never voice this to anyone, but it was silly to you. The hubris and hypocrisy of your husband's family was vast and great, and deadly at the worst. The blood of the dragon ran thick and hot, volatile and dangerous. 

You had become so absorbed in your work that you hadn’t heard the door open, the faint call of your name. Lost on the wind perhaps. Aemond stood, leaning a shoulder against the door frame, a small smile playing at his lips, watching you, intently. He knew and had seen you become absorbed like this in a book or some piece of writing, but he had never seen you do this before. Paint.

The colorful oils stain your fingertips and wedge themselves beneath your nails. The same stale smell of the linseed oil met his nostrils.

 An odd sort of smell, he thought. He crept a bit closer, as close as possible not yet wanting you to know he was there. He silently rested his sword on the bed, the sheets muffling any noise it may have made. You were humming softly to yourself. An old hymn your mother used to sing to you. 

As he crept closer, Aemond could make out the picture you were working on. The colors came to life before his eyes, the eyes of his dragon staring back at him. 

“Gevie (beautiful)” He muttered, under his breath.

Startled, you jumped a bit, smudging one of the petals on the peony you were working on. “Shit” you breathed out.

“Aemond, Husband, I had not heard you come in!” You stand, turning to face him, stepping in front of your work as if to hide it.

Aemond chuckled a bit, noticing the pink tinge to your cheeks, embarrassed at being caught. He lifted an eyebrow, and gestured to the painting behind you, 

“May I see it?” He asked, his gaze meeting your own. After a slight pause, you stepped aside. Aemond walked past you, placing a loving hand on your waist, holding you to him slightly. Aemond has developed a habit of always having a hand on you, as if scared you were going to be snatched away, stolen from him. 

Again, he muttered a “Gevie” under his breath. He turned to look at you, your face twisted in anticipation of what he may think. You had hidden the hobby from him not out of malice, but rather out of embarrassment. Other ladies and some lords of the court had mentioned that painting was a poor man's job and that someone of “noble blood” needn’t concern themselves with such silly things. You had been worried that he would have agreed with them, not liking it. 

“I didn’t know you painted. This is lovely,” The hand on your waist moved to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind your ear, it had fallen loose from your braids. 

“I was afraid you would disapprove –” 

“Why on earth would I disapprove my love? This is beautiful, you have a talent”. Your cheeks turned impossibly more pink at his praise and approval. 

“Actually, I would like it very much if you were to paint something on my sword. Vhagar perhaps –” He trailed off thinking, “Or maybe the seas or those flowers are quite lovely too–” You had placed a finger over his lips, laughing. Aemond stopped talking, kissing the digit instead. 

“Yes husband, I would love nothing more,” Your smile matched Aemond’s from before. 

“I would like to show it off–” He murmured against your finger, kissing it again. You moved your hand to his cheek, cupping it lovingly. This small moment of domestic bliss was needed, for the both of you. 

“Well then, go and fetch it, and I shall get to work,” With the excitement of a little boy, your husband retrieved his sword from the bed, unsheathing it, placing it on the desk in front of you. The previous painting moved to the windowsill, to dry. Aemond pulled up a chair, sitting beside you. 

He rested his elbow on the corner of the table, chin in palm. The only free spot on the table, not littered with paints and brushes. You began to work, and he watched you, with nothing but love and admiration in his eye. He could sit here, happily, forever, watching you work, with the setting sun twinkling on the ocean water outside of the windows. Your delicate hands painted the hard metal of his sword. He would let you paint the whole damn keep if it made you happy. And now, with the conqueror's crown resting upon his brow, maybe he would –

Tag List:

@helaenaluvr  @anukulee   @stuckinaf4nfiction

@darylandbethfanforever9

[nathaslosthershit]

First Impressions and Poorly Made Assumptions (FC43)

Summary: Franco fell hard and fast for a girl that is actively trying to keep her distance, but she knows she has already lost that battle.

Not many people can say they signed with Williams to join their drivers academy, a contract that would secure a future in F1, and met the love of their life in the same business meeting. But Franco was happy to tell you about it till he was blue in the face.

That is, if he was allowed to tell anyone about it, but alas, no one was to know that Franco had fallen hard and fast for the eldest daughter of Williams legend, Jenson Button. Not even the girl he had fallen for.

Miss. Button wasn’t one for the spotlight. She used to love the attention, but it never managed to be good attention she attracted. 

Her knack for being at the wrong place at the wrong time when it came to reporters and paparazzi finding her far from her best moments had also given her a public image not unlike Jenson ‘playboy’ Button had in the early stages of his career. 

The only difference is that many of those instances made him a bachelor just enjoying his youth and good looks, while they just made her a ‘whore’.

It didn’t help that enough of the bad press caused her to purposefully hide from the spotlight. They only ever saw the bad she didn’t want them to see.

But that had been when she was a teenager. At 21 years old, the public had not gotten more than a small glimpse of her in the background in a while, not since she was accused of sleeping around with the then Williams Academy driver, Logan Sargeant. 

Her and Logan had never done such things. Had there ever been feelings between them, which there had not, being her father’s unofficial mentee meant she wouldn’t have taken a risk in ruining that dynamic for any of them. Her dad loved her more than anything, but he really liked Logan and wouldn’t have been too pleased to have to pick a side. 

The bad press had ruined their friendship, unable to not let the public views of them get in the way, plus with Logan about to secure a spot in the second Williams seat, neither could afford for gossip and rumors to ruin his career so early on. 

Despite how bad Williams publicly handled situations, they did not like any bad press. 

Which is why she handles any work related relationships with care, keeping it completely professional. Unfortunately, keeping it completely professional meant she grew a reputation for being a stuck up bitch. 

She could never win.

The lack of personal relationships at work hadn’t impacted her job before, working in the academy’s media coordination meant she planned things, set them up, and made sure everyone got where they needed to be, but that's all she had to do and she was damn good at it. Even if some of her coworkers were afraid of her, it usually made them easier to work with. But a need for more led her to finding a new position, one that complicated this attitude she had towards her colleges. It would be hard to be a driver relations coordinator when not allowing yourself to develop more than an acquaintance with the drivers. But she was determined to not let it change her ways. 

So when she sat a seat away from the newest academy driver, one that was her age, she tried not to think about how she would be the person in charge of advocating for him, fighting for him, knowing what he was getting and what he needed. She tried not to think about how her job required her to care for his well being. She tried not to think about how the minute she heard him speak in that meeting, her stomach did somersaults. She tried not to think about his brown curls and what it would be like to-

“Um… Miss.Button?” James Vowles said.

“I’m sorry, yes?” she was totally not listening.

“I just thought you would like to introduce yourself to Mr.Colapinto here, as you too will be working closely together during his time at the academy.” 

Before she could begin to make her introduction, the newest academy driver spoke up, “It is very nice to meet you. I was very excited when I heard you would be a part of my team.” 

She wanted to roll her eyes at that. He probably saw what the public saw about her and thought she would be an easy lay. The realization seemed to hurt more than usual for some reason. 

“Yes, well, I would appreciate it if you didn’t make my job harder.”

The room seemed to laugh at this, but she was not joking. 

As everyone packed up after the meeting, as all her colleagues talked about their day and made plans after work, she pretended to busy herself on her computer so as to not draw attention to the fact that no one would talk to her, focusing on maintaining a cool and uncaring demeanor. 

When she finally left the room, a few minutes after the last person cleared, she was startled by a curly haired argentinian on the other side of the door. 

Unfortunately, she was unable to remain cool and uncaring when she screamed, embarrassingly loud.

“Shhh I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Franco said as he waved off the people down the hallway that all peaked out of their rooms to see who was seemingly being murdered in cold blood. “Wow, I did not think you would react like that.”

Unable to stop herself, she angrily asked, “Why the fuck would you wait behind a door to scare a girl you had just met? One, may I add, that has the power to make sure you have a terrible time at the academy.” A great first impression they were making.

“I wasn’t trying to scare you!” She didn’t buy it. “Okay, maybe a bit, but if I knew it would upset you so much, I wouldn’t have. This isn’t how I wanted the conversation to go.”

“Well it is how it's going, and I don’t care to continue it, so it was nice meeting you, Franco.” She snipped at him as she began to walk away, ignoring his calls from behind her. As she got farther, she hurt a groan in defeat and smiled realizing he had given up, quickly looking back to see that he had in fact left. 

She had calmed down from the interaction by the time she approached her office, in fact she actually felt a bit bad for yelling at him.

That was until she opened the door and the man she had thought she lost popped up from behind the door. Again.

This time, she didn’t yell. She just glared at him.

Franco, now frightened and a little turned on, wished she had just screamed. 

Silently, she walked over to her desk and sat down, turning on her computer and beginning to do work, ignoring the man in the room, or trying to.

She was actually just typing nonsense, hoping he wouldn’t notice he was distracting her too much to do work. 

After a few minutes of silence, she heard a familiar groan and saw him sit down in front of her.

Neither spoke, neither wanted to bite first.

Luckily the driver didn’t have the patience the coordinator did. “Come on, we won’t be able to work together if you don’t talk to me.”

“We can work just fine this way.” She said, not looking away from her computer.

“I don’t want to work that way, I want to get along. I want to be friends.”

“Why, Franco? You don’t know me! You are basing your entire perception of me off of what the public thinks. You are here because you think I will be someone easy to get with.”

“Huh? No, I’m not.” “Yes! There are two versions of me the motorsport world knows. Either some irresponsible teenager who was constantly getting into scandals, or some stuck up bitch who works for Williams and had an affair with our rookie F1 driver”

“What! No! That isn’t why I said I was excited to meet you. God, you know you are also making false accusations about me.”

“No, I’m not.” “Yes! You think I am some desperate man who is here to seduce you the second I meet you. When I said I was excited when I heard I was working with you, it's because I know Sargeant and he said you were a good friend of his. That I'd be lucky to work with you.”

Of course Logan said that. Even if their friendship didn’t work through the gossip, they had been close for a while and he was one of the sweetest men she had met in this god awful sport. And as she looked at Franco, she could tell he was being genuine.

Guilt and a bit of embarrassment shot through her, “Fuck, I’m sorry, Franco. I made assumptions about you and got mad when I thought you were doing the same thing.”

He smiled, and damn that smile gave her butterflies, even if she had been mad at him seconds before. “You are forgiven, if you agree to be nice to me from now on.” “I wasn’t being mean, you did start off our first impressions of each other by scaring the shit out of me.”

He groaned, “I thought I was forgiven, can’t we just jump to being friends now?” 

She would have laughed at such a request, she didn’t make friends at work, or out of work really, but something about the way he looked at her had the refusal dying in her mouth.

He smiled when he realized the same, she already couldn’t say no to his charms.

She was fucked, but she wasnt as upset about that as she should have been.

“Fine, we can work towards a friendlier relationship, but I won’t be your friend.”

“I can work with that. Don’t worry you will love me in no time!” He said as he walked out of the room. 

Lord knows he already loved her.

[gemini-sensei]

we’ve talked about perv robby, demetri and hawk but what about perv!larusso!reader?

she’s sam’s sweet younger sister who watches the boys work out and spar from behind doors, she’s way too shy to actually join the group and come face to face with her crushes. she sneaks into the rooms with everyone’s bags and steals some clothes from hawk, robby, demetri and sometimes miguel. she gets a kick out of watching the boys get confused and argue over why their clothes are missing. when reader eventually gains courage to join miyagi-do, she gets so ecstatic when getting to spar or practice with her crushes, sometimes pretending to have the wrong stance just so one of them will correct her. her squishy waist being grabbed by strong arms makes her weak and she needs to go cool off (or maybe finger herself in the bathroom)

Miguel too 💀 she takes her sister's boyfriend's clothes but at lease Miguel can think Sam took it. Meanwhile, the others begin thinking each other had something to do with it. They don't stop to think why that would be because who else would be stealing their clothes? Obviously anymore that go missing are in retaliation for the previous stolen garment. Then there's sweet LaRusso!Reader not too far away watching them, hiding her giddiness as she gets ready to leave with their clothes in her bag.

When she joins Miyagi-Do and pretends not to know what she's doing, only Robby and Hawk kind of catch on to what she's doing. Only kind of though. They'll say something like "Shouldn't you know this?" and she'll tell them "I haven't practiced in a while..." acting a little shy and embarrassed. It hooks them and they help her without asking any more questions about it.

Then she scurried away when things get a little too hot. Maybe Demetri was standing a little too close while helping her with her stance or Hawk's hands felt a little too nice on her waist. Either way, she's locking herself in the bathroom to take care of business, aka finger her fat pussy while thinking about Demetri, Hawk and Robby all sharing her at one time. What makes it hotter is she's wearing a pair of their boxers under her training pants and it's just makes her feel that much closer to them. It doesn't matter whose it is, except she totally knows they're Robby's, while she's finger fucking herself. All she cares about are the little fantasies running through her head: of Demetri kissing her harder than a regular little kiss, of Robby playing withbher fat tits and sucking on them, of Hawk fucking her wet pussy like there's no tomorrow.

She has to keep herself quiet while coming all over herself or else someone might find her. That wouldn't be such a bad thing if only one or all of her crushes found her, but alas there are too many other people around. Maybe some other time...

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Silver Lining | DP&W!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Synopsis: Logan was too familiar with depressive episodes, spending years stuck in his own. He never wanted you to feel the way he did, he wanted to take your pain away. 

Warnings: ANGST, like no joke this is just straight up angst/whump with a somewhat happy ending, not character angst but reader angst – or at least that is what I think it would classify as?, mentions of mania, mentions of mental illness, reader screams at everyone and tries hard to make people hate her because she thinks she deserves it, mentions of depression, reader has a depressive episode, crying, self-doubt, mentions of unavailing oneself, language,

Rating: M

Word Count: 3.9K

Author’s Note: You know, at times when there are things you cannot tell anyone about, you write. This happened to be that moment for me. Also I know I said this was going to be angsty but I don't think I did the angst justice enough. I'm not used to writing it so I apologize if it's not full blown whump.

Tagging(?): @battermyheart @plagued-kitty @cxrrodedcoffin @babygorewhore @strangererotica

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“I fucking hate you, leave me alone!” You scream at your apartment door, hearing Wade on the other end banging harder. You didn’t mean any of the words, you wanted to take them all back, you wanted to say you’re sorry and move on. Your hands reach out to tangle in your hair, pulling roughly at the root. Growls of agony and pain tear from your throat as you drop to your knees on the plush carpet, rocking back and forth. “Let me go, please let me go!” None of your words made sense, they felt foreign on your tongue as the pounding got louder, as the screams turned sour. The world faded to black as your head hit the carpet, your throat raw – straining against your sorrows. Footsteps echoed like snow on a winter’s night; The silence was not comforting. Bloodied fists fell beside your face, and Laura’s soft words lulled you to sleep. “We will be here when you’re ready. Please, take care of yourself.”

No one expected that a day full of laughing and bonding would take a hard left turn. No one knew what hid beneath your surface, they never realized how bad it was getting. All they saw was smiles and sunshine radiating off of you, never knowing they were caused by pain. You thought you were getting better, that you weren’t faking it this time – unfortunately your brain never got the memo. None of your words held any meaning; You knew that but you were worried your friends might not. Then again, day one you did tell Wade to not get attached – that was for his own sake when one day you were no longer here. It was an unspoken song in your head – it never rang true but certain times felt like it would, that it may.

Peter’s party was supposed to be fun, celebrating his anniversary of a year with B-15. A full day planned by Wade and Laura. Logan and you were made to keep them both busy for a while, while Al complained about the constant smell of latex balloons. A day you had been looking forward to for weeks; Spending time with Logan while also not feeling pressured into anything. Wade’s constant comments about you two shacking up held some tension between the two of you, sometimes making it awkward to even say hi to him. But this was supposed to be a turning point for the best, the manic episodes a thing of the past. You were finally healing, so you thought. Alas nothing stays the same forever; A little chaos thrown into a beautiful painting can sometimes turn the colors muddy.

Thirteen days it has been since you left your apartment, almost a full two weeks since you spoke to anyone. Text messages gone unanswered, calls gone silent. Knocks at the door becoming few and far in between as the days grew longer. The care packages dwindling down to one every other day than ever four hours. They did care, it wasn’t a bullshit excuse your mind made up, deep down you fucking knew and yet? It didn’t feel right. It was foreign of a concept; A group of people looking out for you because they care. You had been in with every wrong group possible that it ruined any singular chance of trusting their actions. Happy endings were not in your card, so you had convinced yourself. Episodes like this became your only friend, constantly reliving the worst moments over and over until you couldn’t cry anymore. The utter pain on Wade’s face as he cried for you, as Laura tried to help you, as Al reassured you, as Logan held you, were too much to constantly see. The distance was necessary. But never, never would they give up on you.

Over the last two weeks Wade has come by and sat outside your door, recounting missions and how they went to reading the newest Booktok craze in graphic detail, never spearing a moment to see if he could hear you laugh. Instead all he heard was sobs, self-hatred, and pain. It gave you the time to process your rage, to understand it cannot be pointed towards others who were only trying to help, to figure out a way to explain how sorry you are. But you never needed to, because Logan did – and they made sure they let you know. Out of everyone, Logan was rooting for you the most. Looking out for you, making sure no one came to disturb you when he heard your wails of sorrow, letting you feel rather than cause any discomfort. It killed him silently to hear you like this, not to be able to hold you through it, he wanted to do so much more.

Every text that you stomached to read from Logan was always reassuring, never condescending or jokey. Between small quotes he heard over his life of resilience to funny memes he stole from Wade, he was your cheerleader in every way. It helped you to know, even if you didn’t respond. It gave you the confidence to finally get up and take a deep breath, to understand what you were going to say. That was your plan for today and nothing was going to stop you. As soon as you realized in the early afternoon, you spent the rest of the time cleaning up your apartment, taking a shower, and getting your best comfy clothes on to have a sit down chat with everyone. It felt like everything was going to be okay – you felt like you had control over your emotions; This time it would be easy to convey what sparked your episode. Taking a deep breath you opened your apartment door as walked across the hall to Wade’s, keeping your hand steady as you knocked.

The controlled, hard thuds rang through your wrist as you heard a groan come from the other side, inaudible mumbles coming from Althea. A small smirk played across your lips as you heard her rambles, knowing how feisty the older woman is. The door to Wade’s apartment opened quickly as she stood facing you. Seeing Al after a few weeks of going MIA made your throat dry up, only hearing her words of reassurance as you had a breakdown. Instead of speaking you stared at the woman, fingers slightly trembling. Al let out a sad breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. ‘Oh honey, come on in.” How she knew that it was you wasn’t even a question in your mind, just her gentle nature of feeling you made your eyes misty. Al left a decent gap between her and the door as you crossed over the threshold, staring into the comfortable space.

You could tell that Wade and Laura weren’t around, considering how the pull-out mattress wasn’t out still and Wade’s door was wide open. But you knew he was here. As Al closed the door behind the two of you, the third door of the right opened quickly, the wood creaking against the hinges. Standing in the doorway with warm eyes and a stoic stance was Logan, staring at you like he was in disbelief. He didn’t move, he didn’t blink, instead he kept his eyes on your face. Your hair was tucked behind your ears and away from your features; Logan’s eyes trailed over each part with a soft smile on his lips, relief coursing through his veins. “How are you doing?” he asked calmly, not moving a muscle as he gauged your response. The tranquil state you were previously in started to crumble at those four words, your eyes growing tight and blurry as you stared into Logan’s hazel eyes. Your fingers began to shake as your heart raced, a sob threatening to tear from your throat without warning. All you could do was shake your head at Logan’s question, blinking your tears away. Without a thought, you moved fast into Logan as you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into his flannel. Everything you had been holding onto for two weeks was already coming out; The dame officially breaking as he held you. “I got you, sshh – you’re okay,” Logan responded as he rubbed your back, tightening his hold on you as you cried.

Logan slowly shuffled you backwards into his bedroom, letting the heavy door shut on its own as he held you the entire way. Due to how lost you were in his sweet embrace, you didn’t realize that you were now in Logan’s room or better yet, laying with him on his bed. Positioning you to face him, Logan never let you go as he pulled you close to him, letting your face press into his neck as he pulled the comforter over the two of you. Short, sweet hums left his lips as he rested his cheek against the top of your head, letting your subconsciously link his thick legs with yours. “I’m proud of you for coming over, you know that?” Those words warmed your chest as you felt your body shiver, the praise meaning everything to you. Pushing your face deeper against the crook of Logan’s neck, you belted out a wail as you gripped his shirt, just knowing it was starting to soak with the runoff of your tears. You shook your head against his chest, slightly digging your nails through his shirt.

Over the last year you watched Logan transform from gruff and rugged emotionally to happy and prideful. Though that hardened shell of his would never leave, he seemed to be a lot lighter mentally. After he became the new anchor being, new resident of Earth-10005, and the new friend of Wade, which all still was confusing to your human brain, he realized that life was so much more than reliving your past – and learning to move forward from it. It was a slow journey for him but, he found solace in the understanding and knowing. Which is why he didn’t hesitate to grab you and pull you close, knowing this only mirrored what you did for him all those months ago. Being on the receiving end of it felt bizarre for you, but it felt like home. You didn’t want to believe it, but it was true. “You shouldn’t,” a low whispered escaped through your sob as Logan trailed his fingers over your back, drawing small shapes against your hoodie.

“But I am, it’s a big first step.” It was true in a way, the first step was always the acknowledgement. Just leaving your apartment was a great first attempt, and now you were really making strides. “We love you so much, I love you, sweetheart.” Hearing Logan say that caused your heart to clench; The game of cat and mouse of feelings you two have been ping-ponging over the last year reached its peak quickly during this whole time, realizing you two were in silent cahoots – there never needed to be a talk about labels when it happened to naturally. Neither one of you would admit it but, you were together way before any of this went down. Swallowing down the smartass retort wanting to slip off your tongue, you sank your nails a bit deeper into his shirt, feeling his hiss come out. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean, Lo. Do you know how to love?”

You hated yourself for those words, knowing you didn’t mean it but let it go anyways. A typical defense tactic to push people away. Logan knew it too which is why he never responded, only snickered at your persistence. He knew exactly how you would react, knowing from your past conversations about your previous episodes. Running his beard across the side of your cheek, Logan nodded against your face as he spoke, “I love Wade. I love Laura. I love Al. And most importantly, I love you.” Hearing him say again that he loved you should’ve been one of the happiest moments, knowing you both were making great strides in your relationship, yet it left a burning hole of lies in your chest. You scoff at Logan’s declaration, a fresh wave of warm tears cascading down your cheeks as you push your face further into his burly chest. You tried so hard to mask your cry with a cough but, Logan knew better. The words holding their true meaning, the truth snaking its way through your brain. Shaking your head against his pecs, you inhale a deeply, smelling his shower gel and natural musk flooding your nose. “You don’t love me, you barely know me.”

Logan smiles softly above you, trying not to roll his eyes at your clear avoidance of the talk you were about to have. He found your stubbornness endearing, seeing a bit of himself within you. He was the same way after all, never acknowledging or wanting to accept but always question, always avoid. Hiding and not accepting the truth was easier than healing at times. Logan placed his lips to the top of your head as he kisses it gently, rubbing his large hand up and down your back. He never let his lips pull back your head as you let out his words, wanting the warmth of his breath to sink in, hoping that would help you to understand the truth over the lies your mind was telling. “Then give me a chance to.” It slipped out between his lips so naturally you had no time to adjust, hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You stop in the moment; Your breathing, your crying, your whole body. Logan’s words sank deep within your soul, causing a bloom of emotion to burst within your chest. The truth was burning your nerves one by one, every fiber alight and refusing to be put out with your self-doubt. Every stage of grief you could possibly feel ran through your with cold fingers, awakening you for what felt like centuries. Trembling hands grip tighter at his flannel tighter, pulling him close and pushing him away at the same time. Your brows furrow as you scan the darkness within, trying to find a reason why he shouldn’t. All you could find was positive after positive with Logan, remembering how he tried to do the same to you and you refused to give up on him. Now it was your turn, but stepping into the unknown scared you more than anything else. Opening yourself up to him, was terrifying. “Don’t push me away, please.” Logan whispered into your hairline, feeling his own soul hurt for you. 

“That’s all I know how to do.” It wasn’t a lie persay, but it wasn’t the whole truth. You never pushed away the gang, not ever. Anytime you were mildly upset you made sure to be with them, and they stayed with you through it all. Even the times you got annoyed with them, you never gave up on that friendship. You knew deep down you’d never push them away, in fact it was funny to you how you even thought that. As Wade had one said, we are like herpes – we never leave, sweet cheeks. “Let me help you break that cycle.” You wanted to believe Logan, trust his words and actions of the man you love. But it was fear inducing to do so, because every what if made its way out of the wood works, chiming in their two cents. What if he leaves you? What if he moves on? What if he is saying this just to make you happy? What if he doesn’t mean it? What if he just feels sorry for you?

The offer to help you break the cycle was what set you off, tearing yourself away from Logan. Sitting up roughly on his bed, you bunched the comforter down at your hips, placing your head in your hands. The fresh wave of tears was threatening to spill over as you shook your head, your knees trembling with every inhale. “What if it can’t be broken, Logan?” You pan your eyes up at him, your bottom lip quivering. “What if that’s all I’m ever going to be destined for? Healing others while I hurt myself. I don’t know if I can be fixed, or changed or-“ Logan abruptly stopped your spiel as he reached for you, holding your face within his hands. The gentle flecks of golds and emeralds swimming in his irises caused your heart to flutter, his natural beauty causing your cheeks to warm. He stared at you like a man in love, needing you to know just how precious you are.

“I said the same thing about myself, for fucking years. I refused to believe I could be happy, in a better place mentally, I didn’t want to be happy. I wanted to hurt, knowing what I did to cause pain to others. I believed I deserved it. Not a day goes by where I sometimes slip into my old routine. But I remember that people do appreciate me, they do love me - even if I don’t want to believe it.” You noticed how Logan wasn’t aware he was crying with you, his tears slowly falling from the inner corner of his eyes as he spoke. The hold he had on your face growing harder, not in a painful way but in a comforting one. Every word he spoke he wanted to sink in, to show you if it wasn’t the end for him – it wasn’t for you either. “But-“ you chimed, trying to find a reasoning but coming up short. “No buts, just feel. What do you want, sweetheart?”

The question held a lot of meaning, a lot of endless possibilities that you weren’t able to explore in your lifetime. For the first time in so long, you felt like you finally had a choice over your own decisions, not your mental health. The way you stared at Logan, with admiration and hesitance caused his heart rate to speed up, his palms growing clammy at what you may say. He could smell your fear, hear your heart pumping at an abnormal rate. Placing his wide palm against your calf, he rubbed over your leggings with languid strokes, helping to coax your answer out. The feelings finally setting in, everything hitting its peak, knowing you were not going to be hitting rock bottom again. “I want to be happy.” It didn’t sound real coming from your mouth, foreign against your tongue as Logan painted his face with a slow smile, admiring your strength and truth to wanting to be happy, instead of staying in that darkened space.

“Louder, darlin.” Logan coaxed with a gentle smile, pressing his lips to your temple as he took a deep inhale. He liked to believe that was his way of ridding you of this pain, inhaling it so he could hold onto it – so you could feel at peace. A small grin made its way upon your lips as you closed your eyes, sinking into his touch deeper. His arms came to hold you against his chest, peppering kisses along the left side of your face as you exhaled. “I want to be happy, Logan.” This time it felt real, felt right coming from you. Your tears dried up quickly, the sticky residue still on your cheeks as you started to get back on your metaphorical feet. His kisses caused your stomach to burn with love and passion. Grabbing at his right hand, you pulled it to your lips as you kissed over where his claws would come out, showing him how even something so deadly deserves care.

“Give yourself permission to.” Logan smiles genuinely as he cups your cheek, running the pad of his thumb over your skin. Reveling in his touch was the only thing you could do, watching him with hearts in your eyes as you smiled. Having someone like Logan be so patient with you, caring for you like no one before has, made you feel safe. It made you feel like things were really going to get better, and now they were. He was right, you needed to give yourself over to your own happiness, and welcome it in. It was a scary thing to adjust to but, you deserved it. The torment you had been putting yourself through, dealing with crisis after crisis and believing every mean word to be true, you deserved this much needed break and acceptance. Logan pressed his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes, wanting you to take in every word deep within your soul. “I’ll be with you, every step of the way. I won’t give up on you.” 

That was all you needed for the tears to start again, this time though – they were different. They were sweet this time around, not sour and hateful like earlier. This time they were cool to the touch, not scalding hot. Hearing the love of your life say that, meant the world was healing. You were silently giving yourself over to Logan fully, letting him help you instead of shutting him out. Welcoming him in during your time of need was what the world gave you, and you were never going to take it for granted. Sighing out into his touch, you sniffed back a few tears as you cleared your throat, knowing another cry would slip out sooner. “No one’s ever told me that.”

It broke Logan’s heart to hear that, knowing people gave up on you too easily during your time of need. He couldn’t bear the thought of you alone in the world, dealing with the demons on your own; He needed you to know he would make sure you never fell down that path again. Leaning into you, Logan pressed his plush lips against yours, letting the slow hum of the central air drown out the loud voices in his mind. Just like that the world stood still, in this moment it was just you and Logan – no one else, no other thing. Time stopped to let you both take this all in, to realize two souls were converging into one, and the path ahead was twisting together for the two of you. The soft nature of the kiss felt like it could heal all of your wounds, and deep down you believed that it did. Logan was stitching together every slice in your being, healing those jagged scars, stitching your soul into one again. “Good thing I’m not no one,” Logan smiled against your lips, stealing a few sweet kisses as he nudging his nose to yours, making you look up at him. “I’m someone to you.”

[jujutsukgojo]

The Fourth Leg

chrollo lucilfer x reader

Summary: No matter how fast you ran, the Spider's leg cannot get far. No matter how long you hid, you were bound to be found, dear number four. WARNING: toxic relationships, mentions of murder and torture, bullying, murder plot, smut, idk what else? yandere? 18+ Smut scene is based on Fear (1996). I saw it and it crept up on me Chapter one

You’ll always be able spot the blond haired boy from a mile away. His blond locks are longer now, and his eyes are colder. They aren’t the same light grey they used to be when he was around. A small smile comes across your face when you look to see what your boy is wearing: his traditional Kurta attire.  

  When the massacre happened and you had run into Sheila, she informed you of everything there was to know about the Kurta. So, while he was housed by you, you made those clothes for him. And now that he’s a little older, he still wears the clothes you send him.  

  Kurapika left home to get his hunter’s license. He was determined and able. Just like you shaped him to be. Alas, there is something there that you once again failed to save. Just like before, like always.  

  That rageful bloodlust that confuses the host for justice and vengeance when it is neither one. It is darkness that lurks into them and finally settles into their souls.  

He is falling for the same trick as you and your dearest friends had. They entered a place and left every smidge of hope they had. What was supposed to be for justice, protection, and Sarasa, resulted in a numbness that is too disgusting to handle. It’s too brutal and vile. Bloody without a thought of washing their hands with repentance.

No matter, the tightness of your chest has you think of one thing: is it too late to save Kurapika?  

  You go back inside and wash the dishes that you dirtied from cooking his favorites. He had let you know he was coming. It is such a rarity to even be able to contact Kurapika. He’s just so busy lately. That, and he acts like he has never worked a phone before in his life. The little shit.  

  Thunder and lightning strike, shaking the ground beneath you. A slight rumble under your bare feet. You look out the window again and see a ghost from your past. Tall, silver haired, and just as beefy as before: Silva Zodlyck. You haven’t seen him since he killed you.  

  If he spots you, it will be a brawl. Another side of you that you have buried, not exorcised, all these years are calling out for his blood. To wreak havoc once more and see the fear in his eyes again. The bad thing about that is, is that you are a non combatant. An exorcist, a priestess of sorts. Not at all suited for the front lines. You can defend yourself and fight, but not on the level of him or the others.  

Hell, maybe not even Kurapika now, and you wiped that boy’s tears and snot.  

What you can do now is remain low. As much as you want to see that little brat and talk to him, to find out how he’s been, to fuss over him and see if he’s eaten yet, right now you can’t even consider that. Not when he is close to finding out. Besides, he can take care of himself for a bit. As it appears, Silva isn’t after him.  

  Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on me, trust in me.  

Your breath hitches. That smooth voice is in your head. One you haven’t heard of in years. With all the power inside, you tried to push it out. To wipe their faces from your memories.   

  You see the trash can and can only think of Little. Oh, how you tortured that boy. Putting him in trashcans and sitting on the lids and gave him noogies. Little would always retaliate but had to be held back when that one showed up to protect you. God, why are you thinking of this? There is a beast of a man who almost ended you and your dumbass is reminiscing of your bullying days.  

  Had you not pulled that one trick up your sleeve, you truly would have died by the hands of Zoldyck. It has been years since you’ve fought seriously. You trained Kurapika, but you never went full throttle. Nothing but rust is on your nen and hand-to-hand combat.

  Just sit back, don’t hide your presence or anything. That's what he’s looking for. Any kind of blip in the atmosphere. Hell, he may not even remember you!  

_____________

  You know what you have to do. There is no hope here. No compassion for others at all. The Kurta clan, Sarasa, you, no one. It is now or never.  

  You jump at the bolder of a man. Crosses paint themselves on your palms as a holy prayer escapes your lips. Your veins line with the brightest blue and the rubble around you lift off the ground from your aura. Directly, your hands clasp onto Silva’s. He looks confused and the most surprising of all, scared.

He lets go of his hatsu. In the back, there is a bloody scream. A roar that a lion can never compare itself to. A bloodlust from the roar that made Silva’s eyes widen. It is too late, the hatsu hit you straight on. Two balls of electricity and power collide with your fragile body.  

   When you came to, by pure nen, you could vaguely see your dearest. His eyes watery, voice hoarse, blood trinkling on his face. Silva is not in sight, not a single thing left behind. Did he kill him? 

  “No, no, no, damn it! Fuck!” He shakes you ever so slightly as you lay in his arms. “Heal yourself, please...”  

  You have to leave. He has no regard for you or anyone but himself. Chrollo, the boy who is only a few years older than you, yet you still bullied him, is gone. He didn’t care that you’re a non combatant. He was willing to sacrifice your life and his for his ego.  

  He only wants your ability, positively. Chrollo is gone. It is only the spider left. You have always hated spiders anyway.  

________________

Nah, Silva remembers you. He almost died too. How can he forget that he was sent to kill the man responsible for the annihilation of an entire clan? It's hard to forget a case like that considering the brutality of the deaths.   

  And if Kurapika finds out that you are Number Four, the lost spider, he’ll lose it. He'll demand to see the tattoo, no doubt. You can’t show him that. Especially since you lost a bet with Machi and Paku and put it on a place that he just has no business looking at.   

  As long as you remain calm and blend in, no one will notice. If Kurapika comes in with Silva, you’ll leave before. Pretend that you are out of town or something. Actually, that’s a good idea. You quickly write a note telling your boy that you had to rush out and that you’d call him later. To help himself to the food and make sure to rest.  

  There is another rumble under your feet. It feels different. The screams are louder, the air more ominous by the second. What is this? It touches you like a familiar hand. Something cold and clammy. Is that...Nobunaga?  

  Don't panic, don’t panic. It's been years since you faked your death and abandoned them. They probably don’t remember you, right?  

 Nah, you pantsed Nobunaga in the middle of a dubbing. He was wearing the ranger’s underwear. He always vowed to get revenge, but he was stopped by Chrollo, of course. You’ve known these people for years and fought with them side by side. You saved him several times and healed him. He will remember you.  

  There is a deathly silence. Your skin raises goosebumps all over. You can feel him. Your old friend knows or is at least trying to figure out what’s going on. You take a deep breath and remain calm. It has always been easy to trick him. How many times did you do such a thing and lead him to embarrassing situations?   And how many times did Chrollo get you out? Every. Single. Time.  

You sure were spoiled rotten by Chrollo in every way. It drove people nuts. When you were dropped off in Meteor City at the age of five, you were a terror due to pain and heartbreak. There was only so much a child could take and you weren’t able to express it properly.  

  The priest held onto patience as much as he could, but no one could ever hold a candle to Chrollo’s patience. It is as if he is a saint. You'd bite, kick, and talk over him. When they dubbed the tapes, you would always turn the tv off just because it wasn’t what you wanted to watch. Uvogin was so close to beating you so many times, but Chrollo intervened and explained to them what empathy was.   

  However, he went overboard and spoiled you rotten. In the Troupe you got part of Chrollo’s shares including what was actually yours. He made sure that you were the most taken care of out of them all. He always helped you up and protected you the most. You weren’t able to go on a mission by yourself and had to have at least two people with you, just like him.  

He always held a soft spot for you, you think. Even before you shared special moments. Until he stopped caring and went somewhere where you can’t follow.  

Now that you have abandoned the Spider, Lord only knows what’ll happen. Will he spare you for old time’s sake? Or will Feitan, also known as “Little”, finally get his revenge because of the trash cans?  

  Or Machi’s cut up clothes, and Paku’s shaved head, or Uvo’s wedgies and bites, Phinks’s eyebrows that never grew back, Shalnark’s broken nose and the tack in his sho-  

Oof, you’re going to die. And that was all done when you were like, six? There were plenty more years that you were just onery. Chrollo...that poor guy. The hell he went through before and after the Troupe...the patience of a saint.  

Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled, rotten.    

You were ungoverned and got away with things that the rest couldn’t. But this, rejecting the Spider, rejecting him, sheltering the last Kurta descendant...you’ll die.  

  Or be in a lot of pain.  

Suddenly, you feel a sharpness crawling up your arm. They're coming.  Another rumble occurs right when you back away from the sink. In the distance is a large body flying in the air with a trail of red following it. What?  

With a gross thud that you swear everyone heard, lands Silva. Beaten, bloody, gone.  

   Well, there goes that problem. On to the next, which is Nobunaga. You're caught in his en somehow. Or whatever the hell that's called. Anyway, never did you think he’d grow and be able to stretch it out this far. 

  You start to leave calmly so he doesn’t suspect anything. Just a calm person that his en is confusing for someone else! Finally, you hear the even more terrible commotion. You know Kurapika is okay if the rumors of the powerful chain user are true. And he seemed to have a lot of help. Once you shake the Nobunaga off, you’ll make your way to Pika.  

  He doesn’t know that in your past you were one of the Spider’s legs. The fourth one, to be exact. The one who died by the hands of Silva Zoldyck, years ago. Soon after the Kurta’s extinction and after the fight with the Spider’s leader, the devil himself.

You lock the backdoor and head to the woods where there is a safe spot that Kurapika used to train. As you pass by the branches and the shady trees, you are blinded by the harsh memories of your dear friend, Sarasa. She and the Troupe are a few years older than you. They spent more time with her than you did but the memories of her, those precious moments that you wanted to last for years to come, that innocence, was stripped from you. You hold onto the specks of what was left of your childhood, before the truth of hell appeared.  

   A trash bag, a child inside, the Troupe, and Chrollo who faced it first and has never recovered.  

You weren’t there to find her. It was broken down to you because of your youth and denial, you were staunch in the belief that it was a lie and that she was alive. The only one who had patience for you was Chrollo. The tantrums were the tipping point to the realization that she had suffered in her last moments.   

  When it hit you, he held you as you remained in shock. He catered to your every whim to fill in the shoes of the missing people in your life. And you left him.  

How could you not? He left you first, abandoned you for a darkness that you couldn’t shine a light through. Chrollo believed that he was a messiah to the city and to his friends. They follow blindly when you can’t. You are a thief, not a heartless killer. The Kurta didn’t deserve their fate.  

 You push past a couple of thick bushes to be startled. 

  “Come here, now.” His voice is as smooth as you remember, just a little deeper now and more commanding. Although you know him and his quirks, the atmosphere is off. A creepy feeling of nothing in the air. You can’t sense him of his anger at all. Only a chill and a hair-raising sensation that doesn’t match anyone you know. Perhaps, this is fear.  

   You walk to him as you spot him in a clearing. “Chrollie.”   

“A dead spider, huh.” He stands tall but casually with his hands in his pockets. His hair is slicked back and the tattoo on his forehead is more prominent. He’s shirtless and wears an odd coat. His style choice is different now than it was back then. Before, he would throw on normal Meteor City clothing, which consisted of whatever was around. Looking back, his favorite was a white shirt and plain black jeans. Now, he looks like he wears designer. 

  “Here I thought that you were squashed,” he looks you up and down, eyes narrowing. You feel vulnerable under his gaze. “All along you were here. Raising a devil that killed two of your own.”  

You know about Uvogin and Pakunoda. Kurapika felt so guilty, after the events he vented to you. He sounded as young as he did when you took him in. Of course, you were hurt and cried when Kurapika wasn't looking. You mourned them as anyone would. 

  “I know about that-”  

“And you still didn’t come back?” Chrollo is shaking, desperate to calm down. His fists are clenched so hard, you think they’ll bleed. This, you think, is the most anger he's ever shown. And it's toward you.  “Could I? You would’ve killed me!”  

“I would have accepted you with open arms, Number Four.” Would have.   

Number Four. He didn’t even call you by your real name. “No, you would react just as badly as you are now.”  

“Oh, my darling spider, you have no idea. All you had to do is trust me.” He shakes his head in disappointment. 

_____________

“I’m not joining, Chrollie. I’m not calling you Boss, either.” You were disappointed that they actually went through with this. Years ago, you came across their little meeting. Chrollie looked at you and asked if you wanted to join but you called them all stupid.  

“Why not? I'm the leader.” You roll your eyes. “No, you’re a theater nerd.”  

You jump and sit on the desk. He comes up to you, only inches apart. Chrollie gently cradles your face. “That part of me is gone, darling.”  

“Darling? Pretending to be all manly now? A gentleman? That's what 'darling' reminds me of. Those books you read.” You acknowledge that he’s grown up. He broader and stronger. His hands no longer smooth but are calloused and bigger than your own.  

He erases how gentle he was caressing your face and replaces it with a commanding and firm touch on your cheeks. “Join me.”  

  “No.” You answer as well as you can with your cheeks squished. Suddenly, his lips touch yours. It is your first kiss. It sends shocks to your special place. He parts from you. Embarrassingly, you follow in his direction.  

  Quickly, you snap out of the trance of your first kiss. You shake your head in defiance. “I want to travel! I want to get out of this city and experience the highs. I've already touched the lows. I don’t want to get deeper.”

"You think we’re lower than you?” There’s an edge in his tone. One that tells you to tread carefully. However, you’re not shy when it comes to Chrollie.  

“No. But I worry that you will be.” He tilts his head and asks, “Because you think I can’t take you to the there?”  

  He grabs your hand that is so much larger than yours. It's weird now. You are used to him leading you places but now you just realize the difference between you two. He’s...a man now. It’s all so new. You'll never admit that he makes you feel some type of way.  

“Let me show you.”  

Just like in the movies, you see a roller coaster for the first time. There are lights everywhere and smiling and laughing people. And not at you! Just the joys of life without worrying where the next meal is coming from. You spot the balloons in various animal shapes and see the fluffy candy. The pretzels are soft, and the fried dough the size of your head is to die for. You have never witnessed such freedom. The last time you have seen an inkling of joy was when you were a child and Chrollie was dubbing tapes. 

   The two of you get on the back of the ride. You cling onto his arm. “Scared?”  

“No!” In truth, you were. Never in your life did you ever see one of these in person. Only on the videos Chrollo would pick up. It showed the ride going fast and high with screaming people. There were twists and sharp turns on the tape. And now, you get to be one of those people to experience it.

The ride starts. He wraps his right arm around you. The roller coaster shoots out causing you to flinch.  

“I got you, trust me.” You curl into him as the ride takes a sharp turn. Right after it happened, you feel tracing between your legs. You look down and see Chrollie’s fingers rubbing against you.   

  It's...feeling really good. Your breaths become quicker as his fingers do figure eights through your underwear. You let out a little shriek when he pulls them down. Now, there’s nothing blocking him from you. The ride takes a sudden left. 

  You don’t know how it happened, how it led to this. What exactly did you say to him that incited him to massage your bud and insert a single finger inside you. Slowly coaxing moans that blend in with the screaming of everyone else. Never have you been so grateful for that. He places a kiss on your head. “Join me, swear to me.”  

   Another finger enters you. His palm rubs and presses against you. How are his fingers so long? Why are they bigger than yours and feel so much better?  

  You start to really moan as he goes faster. You lift up slightly to follow his motions with your hips. Chrollie bites and sucks on the spot under your ear. The ride starts to go up.   

“Holy sh-oh God...” You breathily cry. He growls in your ear at the sound. “I’ll take you there, to the highs. So high you’ll never see the ground.”  

You grab his wrist and move furiously, spreading your legs a little more to give him as much room as possible. You want more, need more. There is a feeling there that is about to pop. One that he can take.  

   “Swear to me.” You watch as the stars get closer. People make noises of excitement different than yours, but it blends. “Do you want me to stop?”  

“N-no! I trust you!” You grab onto anything in reach as you give up trying to keep up with him. He's cradling you, his dominant hand relentless and lips sinful. A goose bump raising feeling starts. It's cold and is making you shake even more. Chrollo feels it too.  

He's smiling when you gasp and your head goes back.  

  Everything is happening at once. Two different sensations, both caused by the boss, by Chrollo Lucilfer. And he knows it, he’s waited for it.  

  “Swear to me, trust me!” You grab his leg and squeeze it. “Let me take you there.” He whispers in your ear.  

As the ride reaches the peak, so do you. Loudly, you swear to him. To the spider and his name. His hands and whatever energy is rushing to you, cause your eyes to go back. The squelching sound is loud, but your euphoric moans of his name are louder.   

From what you gather in this state, the ride was supposed to stop. Supposed to stay on the rails rather than bounce a little. You didn't even notice that your aura was the cause for the ride's disruption.

When your high leaves you, you’re in a daze and glowing. He withdraws himself and sucks on his fingers. You gasp at the sight. It is pornographic, the hungry look in his eyes. The grey that you have known for years has become so dark and just by a lick. He grabs your hand gently and leads you away to finish what he started. Your legs shake along the way and for the rest of the night when the two of you are satisfied. The way he licked and sucked and swirled his tongue on the most delicate of places and thrusted himself inside had him gain the scratches on his back.   

The two of you created a memory that neither of you would ever forget.  

It wasn’t until you learn about the nodes do you hold a slight bitterness towards him. He caused yours to open wide because of this. Your aura nodes and a nen pact that binds you together. For the Spider.  

____________

You swallow at the memory and plenty more of similar situations with your former boss. For years you trusted him fully. But somewhere along the way, he had lost it. “Chrollie, please understand. I just didn’t agree with it anymore.”  

“Really?” He scoffs. He knows you are hiding the words to describe how it really was, how it is. You rub your eyes with the palms of your hands.   

“When you killed that entire clan...tortured them, mutilated them...I couldn’t do it anymore. You wouldn’t listen to me. You only thought of yourself.”  

“Excuse me?” His voice is low, and his eyebrows are raised. He's gotten so intimidating now. Before, he was someone you pushed over even when he was your boss. It has always been that way. You admit, you are spoiled. Undisciplined and rebellious to the Spider.  

To Chrollo Lucilfer.  

   If you are going to die today, you are leaving with giving him a piece of your mind. A dose of reality that he no longer has.  

“You completely lost yourself. How can you make dumb decisions like that?”  

“Their eyes gave Meteor City a profit that helped millions. I did it for our city.”   You shake your head no. “No, you did it for yourself. As some kind of sick powerplay! And everyone follows you blindly, and to do it without a thought. You guys kill for no reason. It didn’t use to be that way.”  

 Your lip wobbles at the memory of that day. You had gone up to Chrollo and went against the mission. It was stupid to you. It didn’t make any sense. They were going to kill these people because he wanted their eyes? You understand that he is greedy and increasingly vicious. But not cruel, not before the end. 

  He didn’t yell at you, but he did put you in your place with a stern yet calm voice. It was scary. Just as scary as he is now. You still couldn’t do it though. The thought of it made you cry.

So, he commanded you to keep watch and capture any stragglers. There were none. You ran away from the screams and ran into a boy with blond hair and blue clothing. A Kurta. The last one, to be exact. You begged him not to go over there. Afraid of his fate or him seeing the gruesome crime.  

  The Troupe were not there, only corpses. Eyes gouged out, bruises and bloody. Even the children. Lucilfer had become the devil himself.  

  You, without thought, took the boy in. You found a little village not too far away and raised him in a cottage. Unfortunately, you weren’t there every single day because of your “job”. One he knew nothing about.  

   Until your last day. You and Chrollo had been walking in Meteor City when Silva Zoldyck came. Someone called for him to eliminate the Troupe. Your dearest didn’t care that you aren’t really suited for fighting. Especially a Zoldyck.   

   That was your chance! So, when Silva had hit you with his Hatsu, you hid inside your energy and faked your death. It looked so real, felt like it too. It took a lot of healing and purifying to survive.  

  You had to do it. Your friends had lost their way. You couldn’t go along with it anymore.   

“You left.” You whimper. 

“Are you kidding me? I believe the one who abandoned the Spider, your friends, me, is you. My spoiled little brat .” He takes a few steps closer to your standing frame.   

“You went to a place where I couldn’t follow. It was no longer about finding Sarasa’s killers or protecting the city. The Spider turned evil. I knew it was happening but I didn’t face it until years later when you committed a pointless massacre.” He ignored you and talked over you.  

“You swore. And here I find you healthy, alive. While we are dying. We needed you and you left!” That ended with a powerful yell.   

“You didn’t care about me either. I was no match for Silva yet you were willing to sacrifice me. You went to a place I just couldn’t -can’t- follow.”  

  A tear drips down your face. His face is furious and slicked back hair is coming undone by him running his hand through it. He stops when he sees your tear. Instinct takes over and he wipes it.   

“Uvo, Paku, Shalnark, Korotopi. All gone and you could have stopped it. I was cursed by that boy to never talk to the Troupe again. We had to find an exorcist in Greed Island of all places because you decided we were trash.” His voice deceptively hushed and smooth. You shake your head no.  

“Not trash. Just bad leadership.”   

Chrollo’s eyes widen. This is the first time anyone has insulted his leadership. He immediately pulls your hair. You yelp and try to get out of his hold.  

“And yet you do not complain of the riches I gave your greedy ass.” He growls.  

“You are a profitable leader. A good provider. An excellent one. I hadn’t a need or want in the world,”  

You struggle to get out of his grip. It loosens as you speak. “But you aren’t a true leader. A true one would never endanger his people like you have. Never would view them as replaceable.”  

  He tosses you on the ground. You accidentally land on your wrist. Chrollo paces back and forth. “Replaceable? Bad leader-ha! Oh, love you are something.”  

   He grabs your arms roughly. You try to yank your arm out of his grasp. “You’ve already replaced me!”  

  Chrollo shakes his head no. “I could never.”  

“I’m sorry, Chrollie. I just-you-,” You take a deep breath. “Everything went downhill. We stopped looking for the killers like you promised. We weren’t Robin Hood anymore, either. Remember that story you read me? Take from the rich and give to the poor?”  

“I remember.”  

“It wasn’t that anymore. What was left was coldness and blood. And a boy whose life and childhood were taken from him. Just like ours. It wasn’t fair.”  

  “We support and provide for our home, not some random people.”  

Frustrated, you retort, “You like to listen to the sound of your own voice too much. That's why you don’t listen! You don’t realize actions have consequences until shit like Uvo and Paku happen.”  

  He raises his hand. You flinch to brace for it. This is the first time he will strike you.   

  Time is frozen as you wait for the pain. You open your eyes and see what’s the hold up. Chrollo stands frozen with his hand still in the air still. His face is no longer hardened, but shocked. His mouth is slightly open and eyes have widened. He stares at his open palm as if it had a mind of its own, and he couldn't believe it. 

Then he clears up once again to return to his previous deadly expression. Rather than striking you on your face, he lands his hand on your ass. You yelp at the impact. 

  “ Ow!” You rub the cheek he hit. “Why? Of all things?” Like him hitting your ass was supposed to be better than your face? It's demeaning! 

  He grabs your face with one hand and kisses you harshly, passionately. A confession, a return. Stupidly, you get lost in him like always.  

_______

“No! You play this instead.”  

“But I want to dub Cleanup Rangers...” Chrollo rubs his arm as he looks down at the nine year old. You were dropped off at the front doorstep of the church about a couple of years ago. Ever since then you’ve been a little terror. Always picking on people, on the priest, the entire city.   

  You are a tiny bully pushing everyone around because you’re hurt. Only Sarasa could fully calm you. While everyone else just visited the church from time to time, you were a child that had to live in it because no one liked you. You never got a nanny or substitute siblings. All you had was yourself and a priest who was often at his wits end. You had to follow him around and practice his teachings and study them. You were often times bored and thus angry at everything. 

Sarasa was a God send in his eyes and yours. Chrollo was someone who tried to follow in Sarasa’s footsteps with you but lacked the ability to tell you no. He was a patient and caring boy, but one you walk over.  

  “I don’t care! This one!” You stomp your feet.  

“Don’t let her push you around like that, Chrollo.” Uvogin recently hit a growth spurt, so he towered over you two completely.   

  “No! What I say goes. This one!” You show Uvogin the tape. “Do you even know what’s on it?”  

“No. But I want to see.”  

 Chrollo hums and places the tape inside. It turns out, it was blank. You pouted as Uvogin teased you. His smile is wide and practically glows. The laugh is boisterous and bounces off the walls. Immediately, you hit him in his most sensitive spot, causing him to buckle and groan.  

You scream at the top of your lungs. “Stop laughing at me!”   

  Laughter and a smile like that remind you too much of your parent when they dropped you off in this God forsaken, dirty, and polluted place. You hate it. “It’s okay. Here, we’ll do the Clean up Rangers and you can help if you want!”  

  Chrollo took out the blank tape and put it aside. He picked you up and placed you on the desk closest to him. Uvo hisses and glares at you. You frown and stick out your tongue.  

“Listen, you can play the-”  

“No. I'm scared of that.” He knows good and damn well you don’t listen. He looks at you confused until he deduces the problem. “Stage fright?”  

Confused, you ask, “What’s that?”  

 Uvogin groans in the background with every dirty word he can muster. He curses Chrollo for being so gentle with you and a “pushover”. You quickly tell him to shut up or you’ll hurt him even worse.  

  “It’s when you get scared to talk in front of a bunch of people.” You sat in front of him and nodded. “Okay, how about you have a front row seat then! Make sure you cheer us on, alright?”  

   You're still pouting. He rubs your cheek. You want to play with the rest of them too! They never let you play normal things. He hugs you and rubs your back to console you.  

“Trust me. It'll be fun!”  

___________

You wrap your arms around his neck, gently tugging at his hair. What was a proclamation of dominance, turned into an embrace of passion. You part from him slightly. You rub his chest and ask, “Why did you lose your way? Killing all of those people?”  

“Why did you stop trusting me?”  

“You are willing to sacrifice everyone, even me.”  That day with Silva Zoldyck was proof of your accusation, of your observation.  He sucks on your neck with the intent of a mark. You give him a gasp. Slightly muffled, “Why do you doubt me? Do you honestly think I would have? You stopped trusting me.”  

He nibbles on your ear. You try to pull away before you are totally caught in him. “The Kurta-”  

 “Are responsible for Sarasa’s death and for some of the trafficking of children. Getting rid of them was necessary. Do you understand?” He continues to kiss down your neck, making sure to suck on the best places. He holds you a little closer. 

You want to believe there was a deeper reason for the extermination of the Kurta. “You barely remember it, so it can’t be true. Hell, how can I believe you when you don’t care about anyone?” He slaps your ass again. You are this close to smacking the shit out of him. You rub your bum in hopes to stop the stinging.  

 “Stop that! That’s not funny!” You pull away to see an indifferent face for a split second.  Chrollo grabs the back of your hair and pulls you in once again. His personality flips like a switch. The sweetness is gone and back is the bloodlust and anger. Honestly, it never left. It was just hidden to trick you.  He's a good actor like that.

____________

“What are you guys doing?” Phinks groans at the sight of you. Recently, he had to pull Feitan out of the trashcan again. Next to him is Feitan saying words in his native tongue that would have made a sailor blush. You blow a kiss to them both just to antagonize them. 

“Enough, she’s part of the Spider now.” Chrollo, right on his forehead, has a cross tattoo that kind of resembles a web. You don't know where he got it done at. 

“Her? What can she do?” Machi crosses her arms. You always wondered if she liked Chrollie. If she knew what the two of you did last night, she’d scream.  

You’re still a little sore and flustered. But happy and satisfied. Never have you felt so good. At first it was so sweet and dare you say, loving. Then as the night went on it became animalistic.  

Rather than sit around him, waiting to hang on to his every word, you sit next to him, chomping on some chips you found. You hear some groans and mumbles about how you are and how you’re going to get away with everything. Again.  

You stick your tongue out and say, “That’s why I ain’t sharing...bitch ass.” Phinks crosses his arms. “Damn it...”  

“Enough,” He stares down at you. “Like I said, she is a leg. And an exorcist.”   

You feel his eyes on you again. You look up to see his eyes. “The fourth leg.”  

________

“You are coming home, now.” He drags you by the back of your neck.   

“Wait, stop!”   

“Shut the ever living fuck up.” He squeezes you harder. Wasn't he just loving on you like two seconds ago? You have always wondered if he was all there. He seemed genuine when he was a kid but seeing the man he's become, you may never know. 

  “Hold on! You said the Kurta killed Sarasa. How do you know?”   

“Sheila told us.”  

  You see the rest of the legs. They look unbothered until they see you. Shock is painted on their faces so vibrantly.   

“I thought...I thought she hadn’t seen you in years?”  You have a sense of confusion and suddenly, dread. 

____

Sheila limps to a cave. You see her as you run away from the Troupe and their horrific actions. This happened right before you would spot a blond boy. “Sheila?”   

“Oh my God!” She hugs you tightly. Her leg has always been messed up since she was a child.   

  You feel like crying at the sight of her. It has been you and the Spider for so long now, you were forgetting what Sheila was like. She was the closest thing you had to Sarasa. You had your own way of loving someone, but Sarasa seemed the most natural. A big sister, a mother even. A girl who always shared stickers with you and sang you to sleep.  

  “What’s going on?” She asks as you hug return her hug. “T-they’re killing them!”  

  “Who? Who’s dying?”   

“The Kurta!” Sheila gasps. “I was just with them. Oh no, did I-”  

You sniffle and wipe your eyes. “No, no. This is on them.”  

“And the Kurta were so nice too. Harmless, peaceful.”  

____

Why did she say that if she knew they killed Sarasa? When did her and Chrollo talk? You were with Chrollo the whole time, so it couldn’t have been that day.   

  You see Sheila in the background. She is looking down at the ground, then looks up with the most wicked smile and gleam. What? You stare back with horror. Never has she had that smile. It is foreign and totally misplaced. This is Sheila, not a Troupe member. Why is she even here? She isn’t a part of it and disapproved of the group.  

Then, everything is falling together.   

  Everyone’s faces are that of monsters.   

You don’t understand. She told them of their whereabouts. She said something completely different to you. And of course, you believed her. Her and Sarasa were like sisters. They were so close it was like looking at twins. Never would you have thought she could commit such a sin. The Kurta were innocent, but...what’s going on? Everyone was desperate to capture Sarasa’s killers-oh no. You stop moving your feet, only to be dragged by Chrollo Lucilfer. He moves his hand from your neck to your arm in a tight hold, tripping you along the way.  

  “No, no, no!” You’re trying to yank free. How can he not see it? He’s the smartest person you know. How can he not see what had taken place that day? The horror, the blood and mutilation. Chrollo, you must see this!   

The Kurta and Sarasa were innocent. Kurapika...your boy.   

“Chrollo, don’t you see?” You whisper for only him to hear. He looks down at you as the rain begins to fall gracefully.   

  You can feel the tears swell.  

Does he know what happened that day? That the Troupe and Sheila are monsters. And not just because of the Kurta’s extinction. You may not have all of the puzzle pieces, but by the reactions alone, it becomes clearer.  

Out of everyone here, you struggle to read him. Always have, even when you were kids. You only catch the truth from time to time when he gives it to you. They are few in between. 

  “Have they made a fool of you?” It is rare to one up Chrollo. His power can wipe nations, his aura is powerful and vast, his commanding tone is one that cannot be ignored.   

 “Sacrifices have to be made.” He bluntly answers without a hint of remorse or second thought. His tone is final and dead. Like he has nothing else to say about it.  

_______

“I’m fucking sick of her-!” Uvogin plops down on the chair. It creaks under him. Before Uvogin can continue his ranting, another voice pipes up on the matter of a certain little girl.   

“She’d...be fun.” His voice is recognizable to anyone due to his lack of pure fluency. His hair is choppy right now because a brat got her hands on a pair of scissors. The thick, black, strands are being fixed by Pakunoda. It isn’t the best, but at least it wouldn’t look as bad as it did.   

Machi taps her foot. “She would be, huh?”   

  “It can’t be us, though. Too obvious.” Shalnark points. Collectively, the friends are beginning to plan and imagine a better Meteor City.  

“Are you guys being serious, right now? This is a child you’re talking about.” Pakunoda taps on Feitan’s shoulder, signaling that she’s done. He turns back to look at her and answers, “Deadly.”  

  Machi sighs. “You’re right, Shal. It is too obvious. And we have rehearsal with Chrollo, too.”  

  Pakunoda crosses her arms. “This isn’t sitting right. Something is going to go wrong.”  

“Remember your shaved head?” Machi asks. Pakunoda tenses up at the memory of you butchering her hair. Who keeps giving you scissors? You would be cute with that crooked smile of yours if it wasn't caused by the loss of her hair. 

  “There are a lot more bad things going on in the city. Accidents happen all the time, Paku.” Nobunaga puts his hair into a bun. Pakunoda remains silent. “We can’t let anyone else know. Only ones in this room.”  

  As said, bad things happen to kids in Meteor City all the time.  

 

Sarasa decided to go find a tape instead of you since you have a habit of picking blanks. You stomped your foot in protest. You wanted to go! You’d finally had the right directions to pick up some good tapes, anyway. Alas, Sarasa went while Chrollo soothed you.  

She skips along and sees a few men ready to welcome her in the worst way.   

“Is it her?”  Uvogin’s heart is racing. It's pounding so loud it’s in his ears. The rain is the only outside noise as Chrollo reluctantly opens the bag.  

Chrollo opens the bag and sees the face of Hell. Uvo grabs him and demands to know what is on the note since he can't read it. The wrong face is behind that letter, that much is known. The wrong directions were given to the wrong child. Everyone needs to know. To hear the mistake and pain, the truth.  

The words on that letter will never be spoken.   

_____

“The Kurta is an isolated clan with special eyes. They'd be a good cover, no?” Sheila asks. Lately, Sarasa’s murder is being brought up more and more. Chrollo is turning into the leader that Meteor City needs. And an omnipotent being. A terrifying, controlling, mastermind of a god. One that demands respect and cooperation, devotion to what he’s created: a spider. But that spider has one weakness that at a drop of a hat, can cause this god to wreak havoc on everything. 

Calm and collected he appears, but thunderous when he strikes. Loyal to what is his, but horrible in all.   

  “So, the Kurta. Agree?”  

“Aye.” They say in unison. “It’s not like anyone would miss them.”  

_____

The more you study him, the more you wonder if he knows. Was he blind or was he in on it and spun that story of him finding her? How could any of them do this?   

“Please, not you...” You whisper. Chrollo’s book is open to a page fit for an exit. A green portal opens. “No! No, no, no!”  

You struggle even more as everything, except for Chrollo’s role, becomes clear. You are not the smartest, but you are stupid. Years in that blasted city has taught you valuable lessons of reading people. Years of knowing these people have given you an advantage on top of that. Well, not everything obviously. “Chrollo, what did you do?”  

He glances down at you once more. “I am the Head, my fourth limb. But even a spider has a treasure to keep.”   

  His grey eyes are dull but with the slightest hint of possessiveness. You'd recognize it anywhere. It is the same look he gave you when you saw him today, it is the same when you first met him and he had decided to keep you under his wing, it is the same as when you finally joined the Troupe. 

  This wicked gleam has always sought you, always found you. Unfortunately, you could never read them other than that. Like you said, he only shows what he wants you to see and even then, it is blurry. God, you wish you could. If only for a moment to answer your question. Just a straight answer, the truth, about how or why Sarasa died. She was innocent and sweet. She was your friend! Everyone’s, actually.  

 So, why? What could she have possibly done to deserve such a fate? How can he not see the true culprits? What about the Kurta? Did he know and went with it anyway?  

No, that’s a bad deal. It can’t be just one question and one answer. You have too many questions. And not a single one will be answered, you bet.   

  He drags you to the portal. The Troupe starts to enter it. Phinks looks at you for a split second. For that one second his eyes look...sad? No, that’s not possible with someone like him. Like them. You are accepting that you’re in danger, but not that these beasts have a heart or a capability of remorse.  

You look around frantically. Where's Kurapika? Is he dead?   

Would he save someone like you?  

“(Y/n), who are you looking for?” Chrollo asks. He doesn’t even look at you. You want to call out for Kurapika, but that’d expose him to danger. No, if your boy hates you let that be so. At least he’ll be okay. Hopefully he has learned to make his own attire.  

  “You can’t do this, Lucilfer.”   

“But dear, I can, I have, and I will.” A few more steps to the portal. “Lucilfer, I don’t want to go.”   

You yank your arm out of his grasp. “Stop this! I don’t want to go. Do you know what they did?”  

He calmly turns around and stares at you. He expected this behavior from you. He walks to your frozen form, causing the few survivors of the village to jump. Once again, he cradles your face and places the gentlest of kisses on your lips. They're still soft, you note. Still full and masterful. 

Right as your eyes are about to close, you see that he is looking at something past you as the kiss begins to get more intense. More possessive by his hold and the movement of his lips. His grey eyes are narrowed at something that you can’t see.  

Is this a claiming? What the hell is he looking at?   Done being curious, you turn to look and see your boy Kurapika’s horrified and furious expression. You have no thoughts other than your impending fate. Your vicious crimes and relentlessly cruel past have resurfaced in the form of a wicked man. The boy you took care of and never verbally admitted you loved him as your own, is ruined even more. His heart is broken.  

 Sarasa is gone, the Spider reigns supreme, and you are stuck. There are more questions than answers at this point. Too many lies from a group that cling together in some sick and twisted loyalty. You have accepted that in the middle of that is the boy you admired and maybe even loved.

And you finally understand what Phinks meant. It wasn’t remorse, it was pity for an old and spoiled friend as they are pushed onto the spider’s web.  

[shocymer]

121U. 「 Want To Want You 」

"Accidentally crash in to the afterparty of your college football club. There's not a single thought that you end up making out with their hot quarterback."

Pairing : Baekhyun × afab! reader

Word counts : 1.5k

Contents & Warning : suggestive, university! AU, football player! Baekhyun, strangers to lovers, inspired by Day6 -121U.

× Happy late-Birthday, Baekhyun! × | masterlist | a cup of ☕

“Where? Huh? Your major’s festival? Okay okay I’ll be there, I’ll call you back later.” Hanging up the call with your bestie, you rushed up to her faculty building.

Now is 11 p.m. In fact, your best friend asked you to join her since the afternoon. But you've need to gather some reference books in the library first. Too immersed in it, you can’t believe it's almost midnight already.

Isn't it too lively at this late hour? Many tents were still set up firmly, decorated with vivid hanging lamps on each booth. There are still a lot of visitors coming in and out. Feels so different on the first time you set foot here, especially seeing the unusual views. Yeah you admit that you’re not such an update student when it’s come to campus events. Seems like what your best friend said is true, you need to have a little fun at least during your college year.

‘Ding’ a notification sound lit up your phone screen under your grasp. A simple text message showed up the second you are tapping on it.

(Bestie) bae don't call me, my phone is nearly dying. Oh I’m in the blue one! Cya xoxoxo

Ah, seriously? You thought while typing a quick reply.

(You) mkayy

Whether you’re tired or something, the first thing you do is looking for a blue tent just like what 'you assume' she said. As far as the eye could see, there’s no sign of a blue tent around. You let out a deep sigh before decided to left the festival area. Thinking that it will be easier to find those place outside rather than in there.

Once taking a few steps out of the entrance gate, you see a beam of blue light radiating in the corner of the groups of tents. You approach where the light initially came from in confidence. Hoping to find your best friend then drag her home right away. But after you are getting closer, seems like it came through from a different place, which turned out to be separated from the festival booths. However, you still give it a go. Who knows she might be there, right?

The vibe is obviously too contrast, a faint upbeat music began to be heard clearly as you slowly enter the tent. Lot of unfamiliar faces are busy talking to each other. At the time like this, you regret not to be friends with another major students long before.

Beyond your expectation, the tent is connected to a building you've never been to. The deeper you go, the blue light becomes denser. You look around, groups of supposed to be female students surrounded each of male students, having an exhilarating convo that you still unsure about. But It’s giving a party to celebrate something. A slight hint of alcohol odor is also filled the room made you so sure of it. Your curiosity is answered once you saw a pile of football helmet proudly placed at the corner along with a big trophy next to it.

Well, it looks like you got lost here. Automatically shook your head after thinking of how this party coincides with the festival outside. You intended to get out as soon as possible. Alas, the group of girls you saw earlier simultaneously ran after one of the football players, till you pushed to the side.

Hand grabbed the door handle in reflex as you tried to stand still, “crazy, how famous are these guys here?” You said irritably.

Little did you know there’s someone next to you, chuckling at your words. His long fingers covered the thin lips of his, trying to muffle the laughter. Those voice was so satisfactionaly crisp that it tickled your ears. He stopped doing so after both of your eyes met.

Breathtaking. is the first word that comes to your mind. The way those eye smile formed when he is laughing despite a few strands of damp hair subtly covered it. His tall and quite slender figures caught your eyes the most. You can’t believe with those delicate look, he is literally one of them as the game jersey still wrapped around his torso perfectly fit. You stare at him in awe, wondering how pretty his pair of orbs can be if there’s a chance to looking at it up-close.

“Are you okay?” He asked after realizing you were lost in thought for a moment.

“Y-Yeah I’m totally fine.”

Leaning closer to you, he raised his voice a little bit right next to your ear. “But you don’t seem so. Perhaps, do you need something to drink?”

You're the one who's gone crazy, the music has been this loud ever since. How can you mesmerized at this man to the point you could caught his laughter so clearly before. You tried to collect your own sanity before lean over to him,

“No thanks, there’s only booze that I see around.”

His mouth form an “A” shape for a couple of seconds, before fully suggested you something, “I have some water. If you don’t mind, c’mere.”

You nodded as following his back behind, opening the door that you held for your dear life a few minutes ago, which is the football team’s locker room. Even this room decorated with much darker blue light just to match the party vibes. At least your hearing is saved as only less loud music can be heard outside.

He handed you a black metallic water bottle, “I never see you before.”

“Uhm well, actually my faculty is 5 buildings away from here. So.. Yeah” You gulped down the water that he offer to you. “Thanks by the way.”

“Sure no problems.”

After that only silence remained, the mood’s shifting undeniably fast. Looking at how awkward both of you right now. You pay close attention to what is printed on his back. ‘Baekhyun’ and number ‘04’ are visibly written on it. Sometimes he took a glance at you only to catch you red-handed staring at him so intent. Feeling like a blood rushed up to his head, he's too shy to say anything. He decided to brush it aside by ruffling his still damped hair.

Your fingertips itching to reach his front bangs while blurting out few words under your sense, “you’ll catch a cold if you don’t dry your hair properly.”

As your hand nearly touch his hair, he grab it swift motion. “Just.. don’t touch it.”

“Ah sorry I didn’t mea-”

Before you succeed pulling your hand back, he brought it to his cheek while keeping the eye contact with you. Slowly, his lips putting a soft kisses by the end of your palm. “Can you dry it off for me?”

Without a single thought, you reach an unclaimed towel that’s neatly folded on the bench. Then stretching out your hands to dry his hair off as you positioned yourself face to face along to him. At first you actually did that heartily. But after you realized he didn't let go of his gaze towards you as if you would disappear at any moment, your rationality poofs away.

Too dangerous. Your heart beats goes up in rapid speed. If it’s not under the dim light the flushed cheeks of yours would definitely be seen by him,

“why.. you keep staring at me like that?”

“Because I want to.”

“What If.. I want you?” Fingers squeezing through the hem of slightly wet cloth that cling on top his head as you expected perhaps a rejection.

“Well, If that’s the case,” he tucked your hair behind your ear, “I will let you have me.”

His index finger lifted your chin, demanding an eye contact meanwhile his other hand busy untangled your clenched digits to be interlocked with his. Bodies lean forward, the tip of lips are nearly touching, the scent of soft linen and a hint of floral mixed into one only to tease your sense of smell. His warm breath sparked the overflowing desire,

“Please.. don’t tease me..”

He chuckled with head hanging low for a mere seconds before his deep brown orbs seeking through into yours for once again, “first I need to know your name, young lady.” While planting a quick kiss on the back of your hand.

Your lips trembled, stumbling upon the word by word of your own government name which ended up make him burst in laughter. He find you too cute to be true. “Your name is beautiful, just like you.”

He pulled you into deep yet passionate kisses. A slight of naughty smile formed on his lips, the way he felt your body shudder as soon as his fingers running from the nape of your neck down to the lower back. Moving in painfully slow motion.

Head’s going blank, eyelids are too heavy to open, you murmured between the making out session under your control. “But.. I’m not as beautiful as you Baekhyun..”

Out of everyone’s encounter him in romantic ways, you’re the one and only who’s flatter him using the word ‘beautiful’ at such timing. He couldn’t help, hiding an ear to ear smile against your shoulder. Till his soft whisper blown into your sensitive ear.

“Just wait, I will prove you wrong after this.” following by a michievous wink in the end.

a.n. I know it's a sudden baekhyun fic because I miss him lately after I rewatch exo's killing voice T.T He's my ult bias in exo and I really want to tell him that he's so beautiful, gorgeous, spectacular, amazing, breathtaking, scrumptious, immaculate + other praises following behind. Oh well, Happy Birthday Byun Baekhyun! ♡

[cravingsfromatwistedone]

Oh boy, request are open!

If this catches your interests, may I request the freshmen knowing that the five of them have a crush on the reader and they try to interfere with the other when one of the boys manage to get the reader alone for themselves and pull a move on her?

IMMOVEABLE OBJECT VERSUS UNSTOPPABLE FORCES [ FIC / FLUFF+ SLIGHT NSFW ]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I COULDN'T COME UP WITH A GOOD TITLE SO THIS IS THE ONLY THING I CAME UP WITH. I'M SORRY FOR THE MEMES... TW: SLIGHT NSFW AND SOME SWEARING

Well, this is an unexpected predicament

A transferred student from another world became the center of attention when she was enrolled in an all-male institution, especially how she manages to keep her herself afloat in a college full of talented and cunning magic wielding students. In the realm of Twisted Wonderland, magic tips the surface of survival. With no home and magic to rely on, she was placed at the bottom of the food chain; have no fear however!

With her close knitted friends she gained along the way, she pushes through every obstacle thrown into her and continues to stay alive! It's a classic trope of where the best of friends falls in love with one another after going through so much. But how does one handle five at once?

Each and every one of them vying for your attention, hoping that you would take notice of their profound love for you as it grows each time they spend time with you more and more; to the point where they'd wish that one day you'd suddenly be infatuated as they are. Alas, their wishes goes unheard by the beings above! Thus the only way to seize your heart is by pure determination and hard work! Maybe a handful of mischief to steer away the other suitors; it's in the name of love after all!

"Oi, (Y/N)!" Your name was spoken in a harsh tone by the redhead, fingers jabbing at your sides as his figure inched closer and closer to you; completely erasing any space you had with him "C'mon! You've been sticking your nose in those dumb papers for HOURS now! At this rate, I think I'm gonna grow white hairs with how slow you're writing-" You merely gave him a side glance before continuing your work which made the redhead pout. With a huff, the male enveloped his arms around your waist, your shoulder serving to be a cushion for his chin. You could only sigh and roll your eyes at his childish attitude, your hand far too busy jotting down answers from the library book you've borrowed; not once bothering to stop even as his grip on you tightened even more

"Ace, what are you- Hey!" The mischievous male had pulled away the library book before promptly slamming it shut; an audible thump resonated from the impact. Gradually, the book was held up into the air, bouncing from left to right to avoid you from ever reaching it. "C'mon and grab it already! Or you actually that slow witted, prefect?!" Grumbling under your breath, the book was so close in your reach, only for it to just be bounce away again; the notion clearly screams mockery to your entire being

"Stop playing around and give it to me!" This time, you stood up from your seat; catching the redhead off guard. You were sure that your fingers grazed the book but it seems like the male had the upper hand. Yes, he did momentarily loosened his grip but he never did released his arm around your waist. "Not so fast!" Regaining back composure, Ace was quick to pull you back down but in the process he had unintentionally forced you to sit on his lap; a bit too hard he think. Luckily you were too busy cursing him out! If only you could see how flushed his face was, he was praying that you wouldn't feel the rising tension in his pants; he'd never live it down!

"There you are, Pre-PREFECT?!" With a rough yank to the collar, Ace winced in pain before turning his head sharply to see the perpetrator; no other than Deuce Spade who's gritting his teeth in anger. "The fuck's wrong you?! My neck felt like it was about to snap into two with how hard you pulled my shirt-!" Without breaking eye contact, the blue haired male tugged your arm, effectively pulling your figure away from the scowling redhead "You!-Don't you have any respect for (Y/N)?! Just because you're one of her close friends doesn't mean you can do whatever you want!" Ace squinted his eyes to Deuce's words, brows furrowed in confusion. "What are you even on about?! We didn't do anything! I didn't do anything!"

[ddarker-dreams]

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Companion piece to Idée Fixe.

(A journal entry that will never see the light of day, for it is meant to rot in darkness. Even the amoral owner is bound to agree with this).

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, Chrollo is creepy hooooly shit (he needs a hobby), and religious imagery. Word count: 1k.

I have become hopelessly smitten with a woman who is, for lack of a better word, strange. 

She tells me she’s “probably agnostic, because that word sounds cooler than atheist”, while often exemplifying the religious doctrine she grew up in. She condemns herself for qualities she’d pardon in others. She’ll get excited over the most mundane things, such as pigeons, or when her rewards add up enough to get her favorite drink for free. I’m allowed to steal a certain amount before she stares at me, not quite comfortable enough to express her dissatisfaction verbally, yet undoubtedly pondering the perfect string of words to avoid offending me. 

The extent of her consideration for others is perplexing. There is no advantage to be gained by placating strangers, though her insistence on the matter would almost convince you otherwise. She never says “you’re welcome”, it’s always “of course”, as if the act of going so far out of her way is expected of her. If not that phrase, she’ll say “it’s no problem”, on the off chance the individual may think they burdened her. 

She’s strange, yes, but we’re alike in many ways, so I wonder what that’d make me. 

I’ve taken on innumerable roles throughout the years. I know how to judge the weight of my every word. My motivation for doing so is self-serving in nature. People, to me, are locks that require the right combination to crack. From what I can tell, she’s come to realize this too. Instead of pursuing this advantage, she shies away from it. Originally, I thought it was nothing more than people-pleasing, but it goes beyond that. She loves humanity, the same humanity I deem worthless. It’d be easier for me to understand if there was an ulterior motive. Alas, that'd be doing her a major injustice.

My initial intrigue in her was nothing more than a passing fancy. I had time to pass, and she just happened to be in the vicinity, reading a book I’m partial to. I thought I’d give her a few minutes of my time and then be on my way. Presently, however, If I believed in fate, I’d go so far as to say our paths were destined to cross. She is every part of myself that has died a slow death. Optimism, empathy, passion… they mix together to form the essence of her being. 

I didn’t intend to give her so much of my time. She became indispensable to me before I realized what was happening. In retrospect, perhaps I knew deep down that this was the type of person I’d been looking for. Someone I’d struggle between wanting to ruin or preserve. I erred toward the former at first. If I didn’t wake her from her naïve reverie, another would inevitably come down the line and do it themselves. The mere concept was unforgivable. 

As time passed, it became clear she wasn’t living in a dreamlike state, but was perfectly aware of her surroundings and the people who inhabit them. This left me at an impasse. How do you destroy someone who has already annihilated and rebuilt themselves? There are ways, yes, yet no longer did the idea appeal to me. I wanted something new from her, though the specifics alluded me. What I did know, however, was that this strange woman would touch many lives for the better. 

This was a constant torment. I’d have to go about my business, knowing full well she’s making others smile, laugh, and otherwise brightening their day elsewhere. My chest would become impossibly tight whenever I fixated on this. She holds qualities people are inevitably drawn to. She is radiance incarnate, so easy to adore. A light like that is visible far and wide.

When I pressed back against her dearly held beliefs, instead of fading, she burned ever brighter.

I know she feels it too — this invisible rope that binds us. She’ll happily talk to me for hours, even when I forgo superficial charm and express slivers of my depravity. She sees it, acknowledges it, and seeks me out all the same. I find myself talking more than I meant to when she’s around. She challenges me, interestingly enough. Her arguments often have holes and aren’t by any means polished, but she cuts to the heart of things. 

She is my personal torment. I want every inch of her for myself. Her unique mind, heart, soul… would it be enough? Could I stop there? Or would I keep going, taking more and more, until we were essentially one flesh? 

It’s by her recommendation I’m writing any of this down. She said “I am in desperate need of intensive therapy” and sent some links to her recommendations. I’m inclined to give in to her requests since she asks for so little, but that might be the one I have to refuse. I cannot recall the last time I met someone this amusing, if ever. The inner workings of her pretty little head are a mystery I long to unravel.

Displeased as I am to admit it, a day will pass when she no longer looks at me the way she does now. My true identity can’t go unknown forever, the revelation is inevitable. Still, I won’t let her go. My grip will only grow tighter. If her ire is my penance for possessing her entirely, then I’ll accept the sentence and chip away at it over time. Emotions are transient. With the right encouragement, I can guide her back to my arms, even if she considers the embrace a scourge. 

When we first met, she said something that has taken permanent residence in my mind. 

“So long as I can say I helped one person, that’s good enough for me.” 

This was always bound to be my benediction and her condemnation. 

From that moment onward, her life was mine to do with as I please. There are many far more worthy of her than I, which is why I’ll never give them the chance. I’ll deprive the world of her vibrancy. It could become engulfed in eternal darkness, and still, I’d happily refuse to give her back. Let them lament, weep, and gnash their teeth.

In my youth, I set out to be the greatest villain. Never have I been more willing to carry out the actions befitting such a lofty title. 

This is the curse of a wicked man’s love, [First] [Last]. Revisit your religion and pray fervently. For only a god could save you from the future I’ve planned for us. 

[bridgertonbabe]

I’m popping this here in case you get the urge

But the great Cluedo incident of ‘19…

I need to know what happened!!

BSSG Group Chat

Penelope: So other than all of that

Penelope: How did you enjoy your first game night @ Phillip @ Michael?

Michael:

Phillip: ⬆⬆⬆

Michael: To say I didn't enjoy a single second of last night would be an understatement

Simon: Yeah sounds about right.

Phillip: I can't lie.

Phillip: I did google how to go about getting a restraining order.

Penelope: Honestly Phil that's fair

Simon: I did the same thing after my first game night with them

Phillip: Did you actually go through with it?

Simon: I really was on the verge of it ngl

Simon: But alas, I knew it would be far more trouble than it's worth.

Simon: And besides I should have known what I was marrying into after my first game of pall mall 💀

Penelope: And look as much as we love you guys, if the events of last night were enough to scare you off we'd completely and whole-heartedly understand if you wanted to go NC with the rest of the fam.

Phillip: Just one question

Phillip: Is it just game nights and pall mall that sets them all off like that?

Michael: Yeah we really need to know now if they're triggered like that by anything else

Michael: Because if so...

Simon: It's only anything competitive that sets them all off in that way.

Simon: You have my word on that.

Penelope: ⬆⬆⬆

Penelope: Yes and they're particularly at their worst when they're playing as a family.

Penelope: They really know how to push each others buttons but none of them know when to draw the line

Michael: Yeah no shit

Michael: I managed to pick up on that last night when I was trying to put out an actual fucking fire

Simon: I do have to say that last night was an all time low

Simon: They really were all at their absolute worst

Simon: Even I didn't think they could collectively be that bad, especially after the Pictionary incident of '16

Phillip: I mean I guess it's somewhat of a relief to hear that last night wasn't just a bog standard Bridgerton game night

Phillip: Though from the way you guys are talking about it and now with the mentioned "Pictionary incident", it seems their game nights are always a cause for concern and never fun in general

Michael: Very that

Kate: What?!

Kate: What are you talking about?

Kate: Of course game nights are fun!

Penelope:

Simon: Kate

Simon: Are you actually insane

Kate: Just because last night got a little bit crazy doesn't mean game nights on the whole aren't fun!

Phillip: A little bit crazy????

Penelope: Kate multiple people had to go to hospital last night

Kate: Yeah and?

Kate: It's not like it's the first game night we've ended up in A&E

Michael:

Michael: What do you mean this isn't the first game night that you've ended up in A+E?????

Phillip: ⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆⬆

Phillip: ???????????????

Penelope: Kate 2 casualties as a result of a Bridgerton game night is to be expected but 9 is still nine more than any of us would like

Michael: 2 casualties...

Michael: 2 CASUALTIES IS TO BE EXPECTED?!?!?!?

Phillip: I

Kate: Omg Pen it wasn't 9 casualties

Kate: The doctors were just covering their arses with keeping most of them in over night

Kate: They were fine

Simon: They had smoke inhalation Kate

Michael: Your husband had his eyebrows burnt off

Penelope: Which is what happens when you and Anthony throw a tandem strop and set the kitchen alight

Kate: Objection!

Kate:

Kate: If you want to point the finger at who caused the fire then look no further than your wife @ Simon

Simon: First of all I wasn't pointing fingers

Simon: And secondly I was too busy trying to stem Greg's bleeding to notice the fire happening or who caused

Kate: Deflect all you want but your wife was the firestarter 🔥🔥🔥

Kate: The number of casualties was only so high because of her

Penelope: God I just hope Sophie's ok

Michael: Yeah ngl she's the only one I'm concerned for

Kate: I'm sure she's perfectly fine

Kate: Seriously you guys need to chill

Kate: I don't know why you're all being so negative about last night

Phillip: HYACINTH BOUGHT A FUCKING SWITCHBLADE TO A GAME NIGHT

Michael:

Kate: Omg why are you so mad?

Kate: It's not like she attacked you

Phillip: Oh and I should be so fucking grateful should I???

Phillip: That after attacking 3 others Anthony wrestled it off of her before she could get to me????

Michael: Who tf even let her have a switchblade in the first place???

Penelope: I did tell Colin he'd live to regret getting it for her

Phillip: And he got it for her because?!?!

Penelope: It was the one thing she asked him for when he was in Japan and he thought she just wanted it for ornamental reasons even though I explicitly warned him that definitely wasn't the case

Sophie sent a photo

Sophie sent a photo

Penelope: Omg Sophie!!!!

Penelope: 😍

Sophie: Everyone, meet Alexander 💙

Simon: Oh thank god, congrats Soph! x

Michael: Aw made up for you Soph, he's a right lil beauty! 😘

Phillip: Congrats Sophie 🤗

Penelope: He's so beautiful 🥰 how did it go?

Sophie: As smoothly as it could be considering he's 3 weeks early

Michael: I have to say Ben's rocking that eye patch

Sophie: I mean it's not exactly the get up I expected our son to meet his dad wearing but c'est la vie

Simon: How's Charlie finding being a big brother?

Sophie: I think he's more delighted with his dad looking like a pirate than with his baby brother tbh

Sophie: He very excitedly went to his dress up box and put on his pirate costume so he could be just like his daddy and refused to take it off when we were taking photos of him with Alex.

Sophie sent a photo

Penelope: Oh bless him he looks pleased as punch

Sophie: He couldn't hand Alex back to me fast enough so he could have a sword fight with Ben and make him walk the plank

Phillip: Btw just wanted to say Sophie that I'm really sorry that El accused you of faking your water breaking just to get out of the game.

Penelope: I'm sorry on Colin's behalf too Soph

Sophie: It's ok guys, I appreciate it and besides you were the ones who called the ambulance for me.

Simon: Unlike someone.

Michael: @ Kate

Kate: Omg Alex is absolutely gorgeous, congrats Soph! x

Simon: ...

Simon: Anything else you'd like to say?

Penelope: Yeah any apology to extend?

Kate: Ok ok ok

Kate: Sophie I know I didn't believe you were in labour and refused to call an ambulance

Kate: But from my side of things it just seemed really convenient that your contractions started just as you were losing

Michael: This isn't an apology???

Simon: Your newborn nephew isn't evidence enough that you were clearly in the wrong???

Kate: Ok fine I'm sorry for not calling an ambulance when you needed it Sophie!

Sophie: K.

Kate: But I will add, who's to say she didn't fake contractions and then get induced once she got to the hospital?

Sophie has left the chat.

Michael: Jesus fucking Christ

Simon has removed Kate from the chat.

Simon has added Sophie to the chat.

Simon: Don't worry I removed her.

Sophie: Thanks Simon x

Phillip: One more question.

Phillip: Did the Bridgertons corrupt Kate to be like that or was she god forbid like that anyway?

Penelope: Unfortunately Kate married in being equally as deranged as them in any competitive setting 😔

Michael:

Simon: Very that.

[yesbutmakeitgay]

The Anesthetic Never Set In

GIF by femaledaily

Carol Danvers x Reader

We’ve Loved A Thousand Lives

Same beginning, different story every time.

Part 5

Angst with a happy ending, Injuries, Exes. Beta'd by @cordeliasdarling 💜

Word count: 1.6k

Masterlist | This collection | AO3

Captain Marvel walks back into her ship after another successful mission wanting for nothing more than to relax and rest until she senses someone else’s presence in her space home.

She walks slowly, pointing one of her lit up fists in a general forward direction, "I know you’re in here, who are you? Who sent you?" she warns the intruder.

She turns the lights on to find you, supporting all your weight on the kitchen counter. Her brows furrow in confusion, "You?" Her tone is displeased, but not quite angry.

"I didn't know where else to go," you mumble back, she feels a little embarrassed she felt threatened by her ex, "trust me, I would rather die than ask for help," you say through gritted teeth, trying to keep the pain from taking over you.

She remains standing by the doorway as she takes in your state, your whole body is scattered with bruises and cuts, and you are clearly bleeding out of somewhere, "So you came to me?"

"Thought I'd let you kill me instead, I know you've been waiting a long time to do that," you joke.

"That's a lot of blood." She quickly walks over to help you.

"I was thinking the same thing, but then, I wasn't sure if it's mine," you slur in your loopy state, suddenly feeling lightheaded, and letting your body fall onto Carol.

"It is definitely yours, come on," she assures as she takes you to the small medical room Fury forced her to set up if she ever wanted to have Kamala on board again.

She lays you down on the bed and begins patching you up, "What happened to you?"

"Nothing, I’m fine," you quickly bite back.

 "Wanna try that again?" she coaxes as she wraps up a deep cut in your forearm.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Later, then." The atmosphere isn't awkward or bitter, she's just trying to help you like she would any of her teammates.

She finally lifts your shirt to address the source of your heavy bleeding, after disinfecting it, she realizes you're gonna need stitches, "I don't have any anesthesia, sorry." She does the job as fast and careful as she can to minimize your discomfort, but maybe she enjoys inflicting pain on you a little, if only because it's necessary.

She finishes cleaning up the rest of your wounds and lets you rest for the night, though you find it difficult to sleep in the dismal room.

The next morning, she comes to you at 6:30, and you're already awake, "Missed me?" you snark, feeling slightly better.

Carol gives you an eye roll, it seems her kind energy was all spent the day before and she has no more left, "I need to know where to drop you off."

To be honest, you hadn't thought this far ahead, "I don't know, where are you going?"

"On my way to New Asgard."

"I'll come with," you respond without even considering it.

She crosses her arms, "Aren't you banned from entering?"

You had forgotten about that small detail, "That's none of your business." Turns out if you ghost a King, they don't like it when you try to visit their land again, you learned that the hard way.

She puts her arms up in fake surrender, "Fine, we land in 10 hours, you'd better be able to walk by then." This isn't how she imagined reuniting with you would be, but alas, she begins to leave.

"Hey," you blurt out making her turn on her feet, there's a sparkle in her eyes that you're too drowsy to notice, "do you have, like, food?"

She sighs, "Sure, I'll bring something down for you."

After a few minutes she brings your favorite, you don't know if it was on purpose, or if she even remembers, but it makes you all fuzzy inside.

Hours later you hear the ship's voice announce the prompt arrival to New Asgard, so you make your way to the entrance, groaning and limping with every step. Carol is already there, all suited up and ready to go.

She gives you a once over, you're bleeding through your bandages, and her dubious stitch work is showing under your shirt, "You don't have to come, I can take you to the Avengers compound later, I’m sure Fury will let you back in," she hesitates, feeling somewhat responsible for you now.

"I would rather die twice than go to the Avengers," you groan.

"Yeah, well, Valkyrie is not gonna let you set foot in New Asgard, and I’m not letting you die on my ship, so just wait a few hours, then you can be Fury's problem." You deflate slightly, accepting defeat, "There’s more food in the fridge if you can make it to the kitchen," she snarks.

"Thanks." It's not just about the food, she's gone out of her way to help you, to care for you, you didn't expect even a fraction of what she's doing when you first arrived.

You watch Carol exit and wait for the door to close before dropping on the couch, succumbing to the pain, eventually drifting off to sleep.

You wake up to Carol cursing from the control panel, "Keep it down," you mumble instinctively.

She comes out to stand in front of you, "The engine isn't starting, we're stranded."

"We're not stranded, this is basically your second home."

"You're right, I’m not stranded, you are," she asserts with a cocky smirk, you look up at her with exhausted eyes.

She takes some pity on you, knowing you aren't in a position to be of use. She goes back down to get help, and re enters with The King of New Asgard following her closely while you remain rotting on the couch.

Valkyrie glances at you from the corner of her eye, and her features immediately turn to disgust as she tries her best to ignore you. She tails Carol down to the engine to see what the problem is.

The next time you wake up, you're cruising somewhere in space, it looks like they fixed the ship, and you didn't have to piss Valkyrie off by existing near her any longer.

Your body feels different, so you try to figure out why. All of your bandages are a lot cleaner than you remember, seems Carol took advantage of your nap to change them.

Upon noticing you're awake, The Captain brings breakfast to the couch, she sets a tray on the coffee table as you fight for your life to sit up.

"Didn't you also date Valkyrie?" you ask, breaking the silence.

Carol chuckles, "I wouldn't call what you did 'dating,' but yes, briefly."

"Twinsiesss," you exclaim out of nowhere, making Carol scrunch up her nose.

"Don't use that word, only Kamala can speak to me like that."

"When did you become such a hard ass?"

"That's not it, I just don't like young people lingo."

"How old do you think I am?"

"I know how old you are!" The playful banter helps you both feel a lot more at ease with each other.

"What happened to us? We were so good together," you muse in a more serious tone.

"We were terrible together," she counters, still with a smile on her face.

"That is not true, we had fun!" you bargain.

"Not everything is about fun."

You take a sip of your coffee, "Come on, you never miss me?"

"Nope."

"Never ever?"

She bites her lip, "Maybe sometimes it gets lonely up here."

"Would you say you get bored?"

She scoffs, "My job is way too interesting,"

"Your job of punching bad guys?"

"My job of saving galaxies!"

You side eye her with a grin, "Is that on your resume?"

"Perhaps." She returns your cocky look.

"Right next to 'great strap game'?" you tease, she playfully elbows you right on your stitches, "Ow, what the hell!" you scream in real pain.

She covers her gasp with her hand, "I’m so sorry!"

"Are you trying to make it look like an accident?" you snark through the discomfort.

"It's your fault, don't make sex jokes."

"What a prude, it's not even a joke, I could ask Valkyrie, and we could take a vote."

"Oh, please, you'd be toast before you even set both feet on the ground," Carol changes the subject, "what did you do to her, anyway?"

"Nothing!"

"She can't even bare the sight of you because you did 'nothing'?"

Suddenly, you shrink, "She wanted things to get serious and I didn't," you clear your throat, Carol raises her eyebrows prompting you to continue, "so I stopped picking up her calls," you slur.

"Why on Earth would you do that?" she scolds you.

"Because I couldn't get over you." It comes out as a whisper.

After a moment, Carol gets up to put the dirty dishes on the sink. You slowly follow to help her, you're more than struggling, but you feel like you must give back in some way.

"I really didn't want to come to you, there's just something comforting about your ship. I mean, I'd rather not be bleeding out of multiple parts of my body, but if I have to, this is a nice place to do it."

"I’m sure your blood is scattered on every surface of this place," Carol smiles, reminiscing about all your past missions together.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." She knows it’s not your fault being human.

"I was reckless, but I’m not anymore," you assure her.

"So, what exactly happened to you?"

You suck on your teeth, avoiding eye contact, "I was reckless." She decides not to push the subject further.

"Did you?" she pries, turning around after she finishes doing the dishes, "Get over me?"

"I—no," you admit bashfully.

"I don't want to kill you, you know?" she hesitates, "I don’t blame you for what happened to us."

"That's nice to hear." You hope deep in your heart that she means it.

She gently holds your hand, "It just wasn't the right time, but maybe it is now."

[yxstxrdrxxm-a]

SYNOPSIS: Kazuha, a well-known tailor in Inazuma, had a spouse. It's only a shame that his spouse is known for their 'infidelity' in his eyes. [ songfic ]

TW/S: Yandere tendencies, stalking, minor and major character death/s, emotional manipulation in a way, gore, violence, fire/arson, sewing... questionable fabric, unreliable narrator, shifting POVs, dead dove: do not eat, dollification, delusional thinking, Kazuha progressively loses it till the end, beheading, oh God this fic and tws are long Im so sorry―

NOTE: During the fic, it is recommended to listen to "The Tailor of Enbizaka". It will make sense when you read through this fic :)

(also, I apologize if this took a while for me to write. I got busy and writer's block hit me :( anyways, second work and its the best boy! Though, I hope you all don't blame me for fucking him up. Also also!! This is very much a long, LONG fic— like 2k+ long, so 🫡 gl soldier, I'll see if I don't need to make this to a 2 part series)

(update: this fic took 6k words, good luck y'all, this one is a WILD ride)

In Inazuma, there is a tale that is shared by many about a crimson clad man and his lover.

The others never settled on what he looked during the day before his death, nor were they sure what his prior job was before he became a tailor. However, they always complimented him for his looks and his skill, knowing that whatever he used as his own special fabric would be tailored and taken care of well.

Even with one full of holes and tears, he is gifted with the ability to patch them up till it was brand new. In the village he lived in, he was regarded for having such a talent, and he had his shop open and full of visitors.

However, the only thing that made people question him was his behavior. Despite how mild-manner the tailor was, he often comments on how his beloved darling refused to come home and continues to cheat on him.

Many those that still lived during the time said the crimson-eyed tailor acted delusional, but just how far can those delusions go?

No one knows but the man himself... And the one who persecuted him, too.

It was that year since I've seen my beloved after the accident.

A year that, when I saw them, I've longed to see them and speak to them about our time together as a married couple.

To begin with, I am Kaedehara Kazuha, or― as the townsfolk here call me, the 'Crimson-Eyed Tailor'. Although I am highly regarded for my craftsmanship, many told me that I am odd for my adoration for my beloved maple.

Why is it that odd? I thought all married couples do this, even if some think that it feels off.

Besides that, however, my darling isn't quite aware of my... Endeavors. More specifically, their streak of getting out for hours, perhaps days and weeks, and not even coming around to speak to me.

I am bound to them by an oath when we were married: we both drank sake together under that faithful light of the moon, with only nature watching over us. However, it would seem as if they have forgotten that, and ended up cheating on me in broad daylight.

Like they had no such shame.

Alas, I am but their husband, and I can't simply get mad at my beloved spouse. I know they did no wrong, for they sometimes meet with others as an act of being 'friendly'.

So while I focused on fixing the kimono, I've began to hear something that had been passed around in the village.

Something related to my darling's little ventures.

"I have spoken to [Name] about the matters in their marriage recently," one of the ladies spoke, her voice not so soft enough to conceal who she was speaking about as I fixed the fabric in my hands.

"And from what they told me, they're getting their kimono fixed for when their lover returns home!"

I simply continued on sewing, but the lady's next words had me flinch.

"Ah, they've been married for years, aren't they? And it seems they even have their shiromuku ever since their marriage to sir Kamisato Ayato. How romantic!"

...

The blood continues to spill on my finger, with the needle that I used pricking it when I've lost focus and got too careless.

How uncouth.

From the tale shared by the folks of Narukami Island, they talked about the crimson-eyed tailor's marriage with his supposed 'spouse': an immigrant of sorts from Fontaine, traversing to Inazuma to meet with their lover.

Their relationship together is strange. From the accounts of those with prying eyes, they said that he was the only one putting an effort to their relationship, and they wished to take it slow.

However, there are those that disagreed, saying that it had been the other way around— and it was he who wished for them to slow down.

No one can decide what the tailor had done, for they can't even tell if his desires were to rush or to slow down. But what can be confirmed is one thing everyone kept saying.

He doesn't like his trust being broken.

It had been days after hearing what I did.

I hadn't seen my dearest beloved in those days, and the day I saw them had been when the heir of the Kamisato clan had returned.

I had been busy as ever in sewing till I realized that I'm running out of thread. I don't have any spares, and I'm well aware that there are a few shops that sell supplies for sewing.

And so, on a lazy afternoon, I've got out of my shop in the hopes that I can catch the store to buy the supplies I needed.

The soft sound of wood hitting the pavement greeted my ears, alongside hushed murmuring and discussing with the commonfolk. I greeted a few that noticed me in passing, but they were swift to return to the people they were speaking to prior.

It was a mundane thing, really. But it was the type that felt familiar.

Turning a few corners, I managed to locate the shop I was looking for. Walking up the stairs, I waved at the lady taking care of the store—

—not before my ears perked up at the soft chattering in the distance.

My eyes trailed over to the source, and then, I see them.

My beloved maple.

I saw that they were conversing with the heir of the Kamisato clan, his hand reaching over to hand them a small gift: a small box, with the ribbon being the color of purple. I spot the gleam of gold on top of the ribbon, which eludes me to think that it is the insigna of the clan crested in gold.

How tacky.

I had to hold back the urge to stop them as their conversation was hard to discern, my focus back on the woman running the shop with the supplies I require.

"Hello, madame," I greeted, making the woman smile and nod in greeting as well. "Do you need fabric again, Kaedehara?"

I chuckled, but it was only to mask the bits of instability in my voice.

"Oh, not fabric, madame. I simply desire thread. I have ran out of red and black, and I didn't want to delay the commission I had from monsieur Lyney. Do you have any right now?"

"Red and black thread, hm? I can check at the back. Please give me a moment to look."

With a bow, the seamstress turned around to leave. With that, I let go of the breath I held and turned my gaze back to the bridge, just a few ways away from where my beloved sunset was at.

Watching the two figures, I couldn't help but simply stared at the attire that the heir wore.

Montsuki Haori Hakama: that usually means black or gray. I've known that colored kimonos were not worn with this in mind, and he certainly didn't wore anything that would be too straining.

Still, that shade of black is made of high quality. I'm not surprised if he wore it so rarely, as though to preserve the detail and its intricate work from his very own seamstress.

...

I wonder if I can take it?

Watching the two descend from the bridge, my eyes wandered back to the lady as she returned with the spools of thread, all varying in degrees of color and quality.

"Here you are, Kaedehara! These are the best I can find that fit the colors you asked for."

My eyes twinkled as I took the spools to my hands, my fingers turning and nudging the thread to see just how strong it is.

Interesting. Good quality, too... Maybe I can use this to finish that outfit I've been saving for a while.

"Thank you, madame," I thanked her, making her laugh. "Oh, it's not a problem, Kaedehara! You've done so much for this little town of ours, this is but a simple thing to repay for your efforts!"

With a nod, I paid the seamstress and turned back down to descend from the bustling upper part of the town, the sight of what happened in the bridge a bit further away bothering me from within.

No matter, Kazuha, I mused, carrying the items I required as I felt myself walk back home. Even if you want to get rid of him, it will be much too complicated. You simply need to be patient and wait till the opportunity comes.

...

Although, whoever made his clothes... I wonder if I can speak to them to inquire about their techniques.

The first case that started this was a cold one.

One that is related to a person no one knew so highly about, be it by their background, appearance, and even their name. All they were known for is being the 'tailor' for one of the clans.

There had been a lack of evidence and information about this due to how many tailors had been requested all across Inazuma at the time. It was understandable that people chalked up to them being missing as nothing more than an unfortunate case, not one worthy of being dug into.

Others had suspected that it had been associated with something else, that something (or someone) had done this deliberately. There was no evidence to this, but their claims were loud as they were bold, making it difficult to ascertain its authenticity.

However, the masses have all agreed that this was a normal occurrence. It was not one worth noting, because there had been a lot more that spoke of the same tale, always eluding to their fate being that they were murdered.

It was, unfortunately, the 'norm' of the village in the legend. A norm that, if the people of Inazuma heard it today, would have turned their heads in disgust for how abhorrent it sounds.

Still, many remained curious of the biggest what if that seem to echo in their mind.

Was the tailor associated with his sins?

The Kamisato clan has had it's ups and downs, and it isn't strange to see that they were seeking out talented tailors and workers to work under them.

What was surprising (to everyone), however, was that the head of the clan hired me to work as the Kamisato Clan's personal tailor.

The reasoning behind it was quite simple, especially with what the heir spoke to me when he and I met in the morning when I was to be summoned in the estate— due to his personal tailor (a family friend, he said) going missing for days, they were unable to track down his whereabouts and presumed that he has gone missing.

I was only hired as a "replacement" for the clan's special tailor till then, and he made it extremely clear that there was nothing else to it. Nothing that would spell the fact that I will permanently stay in that position.

Of course, to many, this may sound as an odd deal. There are so many tailors such as myself that would die to be consulted on, to work as the head of the clan's seamstress and work for their outfits. And perhaps, in their naivety, they may consider it as their efforts finally paying off in some way.

However, I have been in a clan myself before. This is nothing more if not a business deal.

A deal between one rising clan, and one whose surname has lost it's widely known heritage.

This only benefits the Kamisato Clan in the effort to save face. To save face of the potential backlash they'll deal with should any information of the missing clan's tailor be brought to light to everyone who remain blissfully ignorant of the innerworkings of the clan.

I would normally deny this kind of offer, mostly because there is no benefit for me to join and work for them. However, times have changed, and I simply reconsidered denying Kamisato Ayato's offer.

... There is a few benefits to me joining. It may be minimal, but it is better than scrounging around in the dark.

And so, I agreed to the offer.

The arrangements set for me to move was quite swift. I'm aware that that he is a man of his word, so it was quite easy for us to prepare my living arrangements and move to the estate.

With the supplies I get from the clan, it's been easy to stay put and gather information to the person I'm targeting.

... That was, until that day came.

I remember it clearly: it was the ends of fall, where the maple leaves fell more and more around the estate's grounds. This usually signified the coming of winter, so I usually savor the season by having time off to admire the scenery.

And in one of my walks, I had travelled from outside of the estate to see if things have changed.

Which, to my luck, I've encountered my darling beloved.

But just like last time, they were not alone.

In the journey of my wandering, I have seen them speak to the sibling of the older heir, Kamisato Ayaka, as they sit on the table outside of the Komore Teahouse.

From how far I am to the entrance of the teahouse, it gives me enough space to watch them interact like friends. The way that the Himegimi raised her fan to cover her face, perhaps from her eyes crinkling in amusement from what they told her...

... It was intriguing. Very intriguing.

So much so that I've felt the claws of envy grip in my chest, clutching its metal nails and making punctures on my already bleeding heart.

What a nuisance. Must you hurt me like this, darling?

I can hardly remember what happened after that. After all, my focus had been set on the two speaking to each other like they were simply companions, unknowing of what fate may bring upon them.

...

"Oh? Kazuha! I didn't notice you came to the Teahouse as well!"

My attention was swiftly pulled away from the sight of my dearest gem, and it landed on the familiar sight of olive eyes. From the appearance alone, many wouldn't think that an immigrant of Mondstadt would be a fixer.

Not even I would be able to see it happen.

However, this man had the skills to prove of his worth— after all, being Inazuma's 'fixer', he's often the go-to man to fix any and every problem that the Narukami Island and others may face.

Which makes him a glass canon— one that is volatile and unpredictable, even under the guise of a friendly face.

That is what Thoma is.

But this "glass cannon" has his weakness, and I know how to use it to my advantage.

Letting a smile slip to my lips, I chuckled, raising my hand to cover my mouth. "Well, I've been foretold by others about Komore Teahouse and it's history. I've been meaning to visit it, but I'm so busy fixing kimonos and making them to have time to spare."

A white lie, but then again, there are many of those that have been foretold in the waking of this world.

What does adding one do at this point? I'm already damned by the heavens the day I've seen the 'truth' of this fate of mine.

Just one lie wouldn't hurt, right?

"Haha, I can't blame you," the taller blonde seem to answer my query with his own, albeit he did seem to look more like he was at ease. Still, I needed to be weary; he can change sides if he so much as sensed that something is wrong.

"After all, with what the missing tailor in the clan circulating around the others in the estate, I'm even surprised that you manage to fill up in their position for months!"

... Oh? So he's noticed my talents, hm?

I shook my head.

"Oh, please. I'm just a humble tailor, Thoma," I reasoned, letting out a heavy sigh. "I have thought of asking them for advice on how they do their work, but since they're missing, all I can do is substitute for their absence."

He gave me an apologetic smile and nodded.

"That is true... I guess I'm just a bit too ecstatic to finally have someone that can fill in their role seamlessly. Lord Kamisato Ayato would've been panicking if we didn't have a replacement soon for his anniversary with his spouse."

... Spouse, huh?

"Hm... Is that so?"

I frowned in thought as I ponder over wanting to... Ask him for a favor. Sure, this one wouldn't do well on one's conscious mind if they knew, but it was simply for their sake.

It was all for them. I knew that.

It wouldn't hurt anyone if I asked Thoma to do this for me. At least, while I still have the chance to do so.

I can only hope the cannon does not think of shooting it's shot to me if I slipped up.

"Speaking of, Thoma, may I ask you for a favor?"

After the first missing case of the tailor, there had been more that were reported. The victims were all varied in their appearance, age, and even from where they used to live, be it in Narukami Island or even outside of Inazuma itself.

It was difficult to tell how many there were exactly, especially with how the legend is interpreted. Some said it was 20, while others said it was 50. This legend has been passed mouth to mouth, so details were not a key figure for a few to remember well.

However, every iteration has the same detail. The victims all had the same similarity as the tailor that simply went "missing".

All of them, in some way, were associated with certain individuals— one of them being his maple, where a few commented that they were the apple of the crimson man's eye.

From the legend and how it has been told, it is safe to assume that the motive was obvious from the first missing case.

It is akin of an open secret, if said secret was twisted to fit his ideals.

"Haven't you heard?"

"What? What is it?"

"The fixer, Thoma… He went missing just few days ago."

"What!?"

…

Ah, so he went missing like the others?

My ears had perked up at the news that we were told. Although Thoma is one many people never thought of being a 'target', the fact he went missing is... Odd.

"Perhaps he had done something," I heard one of the servants whisper amongst themselves, looking rather cautious. "After all, he's been very privy on a few things..."

"Yes, but he isn't the person I'd expect to vanish like that—"

"Shh—! People are going to hear you, you know! Keep it down!"

Hearing their footsteps echo as they take their leave, I turned back to what I have been working on. The sight of the kimono graced my vision as I raised the needle.

I began to sew the tears on it, letting out a soft hum while I fixed the black fabric from it's horrible state.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut—

"Sir Kaedehara? Someone is looking for you."

...!

I felt the needle prick my finger, but I didn't say anything. With a quiet hum, I raised my head to see someone speak to me, their face grim as they shifted on their feet.

Ah.

Despite the feeling of blood pour onto the fabric, I smiled and nodded, putting down the fabric of the kimono I was fixing.

"I'll be right there. Please tell them to wait for me."

"Really? Oh, thank Archons. I'll get going."

Watching them take their leave, my eyes flit over to my scissors.

Still as sharp as ever, I mused, pushing myself to stand up before fixing my attire. Mayhaps today won't need it to be sharpened.

For now, I had to see what the client wants from me. It would simply be a shame if I leave them alone for far, far too long.

Mayhaps they're here to inquire about the kimono I made. I made sure to add my personal touch to it.

...

As I walked to where my client sought to look for me, I see a familiar sight befell in the grounds of the Kamisato Estate.

The himegimi is currently speaking to my betrothed like they are close companions, and the magician (Lyney was his name, I recall), had been listening to their discussion at hand.

His eyes seem to lit up when he saw me, offering me a welcoming grin.

"You must be the tailor that my sister assigned, aren't you?" he asked when I was close enough to hear him, making me chuckle. Taking a seat across, I simply nodded, keeping my professional smile and demeanor in fear of offending him.

"Indeed, I am that tailor. My name is Kaedehara Kazuha, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Haha, please, the pleasure is all mine!"

The magician shook my hand with mine, and the meeting went as smoothly as one may expect. Although, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander sometimes to where my lover is.

You were speaking to Ayaka like she's a friend of yours. I shan't stop you, darling, but perhaps you aren't aware of the pain you put me through.

Still, I couldn't afford to raise my voice, nor can I think of hurting you with my actions.

How unfortunate. Mayhaps I need to teach you a lesson myself, my angel.

If there was one thing that the legend failed to elaborate, it is the state of the missing people. However, there were... Creative liberties to those that began to see if the legend was true; or, pray tell, associated with any real life events.

To the eyes of others, going missing is a serious deal. It sparks a lot of ideas for what could've happened to them, and especially if they are alive or dead.

Albeit many shrugged off the prior cases, this one was serious. After all, the one that went 'missing' is the fixer of Narukami Island— Thoma, the immigrant in the nation of lightning.

It is, after all, what sparked the eventual downfall of the crimson-eyed tailor and his beloved. Many had thought this was the turning point, but those that did were found to be wrong.

This, after all, was simply the beginning of such downfall. But it wasn't to his lover, the missing residents, or even his companions.

It was to himself, when he used the blades to commit a sin undeserving of forgiveness.

The news that brought upon the missing Himegimi greeted the Kamisato estate that day.

I remember how people were in a disarray. They were much more shaken as they tried to get any sort of lead to where she is, and for some, they were already thinking of quitting.

The estate is already shaken from when Thoma went missing, but now that the young heiress has up and disappeared— especially in winter— it was in chaos.

While I sew the kimonos handed to me, there was an obi that laid on the pile by my right. It was a bit worn, but it can still be saved.

I needed to fix it, and give it my own personal touch. That way, it wouldn't look as though it had been abandoned by it's past owner.

Alas, the noise is getting to me. I could feel the silk resting on my bandaged hand slip every once in a while, if it weren't for how tight I've been holding the fabric.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I needed to put my focus on what I'm doing. I needed to focus on the job.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I mustn't let blood nor dirt stain my creations.

That is what my mother taught me.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, se—

"I apologize if the estate is in a disarray, detective," I hear a familiar voice speak amongst the hushed and panicked whispers. "The estate hasn't been the same ever since my retainer and my younger sibling had gone missing."

"Oh, it's alright! I'm sure this matter is too serious for you and the others to keep things organized."

"Haha... You can say that it is. Now, it's just right this way..."

... A detective is in the estate. How curious.

It wasn't right to snoop, but I was curious. Curious enough to have finished the kimono I was fixing before I stood to leave my quarters.

The others paid no heed as I followed after the two to Ayato's room, too focused to do what they were assigned to even bat an eye when I got close to where they were heading.

It was only when they were inside that I've stopped and simply bid my time, my focus set on what was happening by the shoji leading to his office. And it didn't took long till I hear things from the other side.

"Ah, so you think that someone is out for you?"

"Yes. Although I am normally adept in figuring out who it could be that's causing this to happen, I can't put heads or tails with how their presence eludes me."

"Man alive... And you said that it started when they went missing?"

"... Yes, detective."

"I see... Man alive, that sounds like it wasn't just a single, one-off case, then. I can help you, but this will take a while if there's no leads."

"I see. It's fine, detective. I'll pay you enough when you figure out where my retainer and sister are. I could hardly think that someone would take them without such consequence."

"Oh, no worries. With me around, no criminal will get out unscathed— I'll make sure to bring them here when I figure out who did this."

...

I see.

Perhaps its about time I have to settle this with him.

There was a time where I have thought that things will change.

Where these cases will be laid forgotten, perhaps even unresolved with the lack of hints.

I spent weeks on end, keeping my tracks short and erasing any leads that can lead towards me again.

I spent so, so long trying so desperately to hide anything resembling my crimes.

But alas... He found me.

It was the time where I had to dispose of those bodies. Although I had no heart to bury them under nature, I was not above treating them as though they were simply people.

Even in death, I wanted to make them feel like they look peaceful. Although, perhaps simply sewing their wounds left by my scissors was not something I can treat.

In the middle of the night, I was carrying the Himegimi outside of the abandoned houses I tend to with her retainer, Thoma. I had thought of letting her rest someplace else. Her attire has been sullied, and I needed to keep the two somewhere where no one can find them.

Corpses rot over time, and if it was possible, letting them turn to nothing in the likes of Tsurumi Island will be enough for my weary heart to rest.

With how adept I am of keeping my tracks hidden, I had thought no one would be able to tail on me. But alas, due to the missing cases I've caused, perhaps I wasn't expecting this to happen.

"I knew you'd be here, Kaedehara Kazuha."

I simply paused upon hearing his voice, my head craning back to see that it was Ayato. Despite how composed he looks, I can tell that the nights he spent trying to search for his beloved sibling and retainer wore him down.

His once flawless appearance was nothing but sullied, his attire feeling like its simply hanging off of him, and the way he staggered while looking at me without a shred of restrain is new. Raw for such a heir.

"And that body..." he murmured, his eyes glaring daggers when he found out who it was.

Perhaps it's her dress that makes her recognizable. Or the hair.

"... I thought I've erased everything that can lead back to me," I spoke, sighing as I placed Ayaka's body down. "What a shame. I was quite close to erasing any traces and signs of their whereabouts. It would be nice to only have them be marked as 'missing', not dead."

"So... You admit to it, then?" the heir asked, walking over with stride. "That you have done this, Kaedehara?"

I simply said nothing.

And I knew that was enough of a confirmation for him.

"I knew something was wrong with you," I heard him speak, which caught my attention. Turning my body to finally face him, I watched as he scoffed and continued, "After all, a man as serene as you often had the worst to hide."

"Oh? How curious. Why would you say that?"

I saw his lips curl to a smile.

"Why, I had someone tail after you," he answered, his tone sounding so blunt and his demeanor became more like he's simply 'teaching' me something. "Someone that is associated with the clan. I'm sure you know who it is."

... How uncouth.

"I see... And you confronted me now? For what?"

"A duel."

He unsheathed his blade, and raised it towards my direction.

"I do not usually participate in these, but I'd like to honor your tradition. If I win, you turn yourself in to the Tenryou Commission. Confess all of your crimes, and we shall call it even."

"... Very well."

I raised my own blade, as a sign to his own.

"I needn't state my own terms if I lose, as I can't let you get out alive. Now, let us settle this matter... To each of our graves."

Usually, such details cannot be recreated from interpretation alone.

However, this one was the few exceptions to it's inevitable fate due to it's popularity.

The legend had focused on keeping the existence and ties of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor up for the listener's interpretation. This scene, however, was directly associated to a case that had been tackled many years ago.

The case went as such: each resident of a town goes missing each week. No one knows when it happens, as the day is often random. The victims of these disappearances are also random, so no one could derive from it being a 'pattern'.

No matter how young or old one is, their gender, their living conditions, and even their past... When they least expect it, they simply vanish. Erased.

The only times where the victim was found, several eye-witnesses had different iterations. Some said that the bodies were buried, while others found it floating by riverbanks and the side of the sea.

But the most common— and widely known, of course— was that each victim were made to a doll.

Their limbs were nothing if not sewn with thread, cuts of various degrees being patched with thread of similar color to 'mask' it's oddity. Their eyes were closed, but those that were unfortunate to open it were only greeted with it being turned to the back of their heads.

In some victims, several pieces of their possession were taken. However, most kept theirs on their person, and were seen to not be tampered with.

No one knows what drove someone to this degree. No one can even comprehend such a fact that it was entirely possible.

But to someone who's mind was twisted to the point of no return... It was.

This case had a name, but every resident of Inazuma refused to speak of it. Each time one does, they were told of the legend behind this case.

They were told of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, and they were warned of one thing.

"Do not look at him or his betrothed. If you do, you're as good as dead."

...

It had been a year since our fight happened.

I remember the chaos that occurred back when I finally erased that man. Although it did left his body in an undesirable state, I still fixed and sew him up so that he didn't look as such.

Even in death, I wish to give the heir some form of dignity. That, in some way, I wish to give him his final respects.

After all, he had simply misunderstood my intentions. He didn't knew that I was out for one person from the very beginning.

The downfall of the Kamisato Clan was imminent at that point. I've seen many flee, and witnessed the tragedy befall on the Narukami Island. Many of the people I've met had simply ran off to seek refuge, the terror grasping and choking them like they were unable to think.

However, I remain clear. And I simply continued to do my work diligently.

I have been working on something... Special. And with one last snip of my bloodied scissors, it was now complete.

My final and life-long work, all laid across and now in my hands. The fabric I chose was rather difficult to sew. I should have known that human skin would be too hard, depending on where I retrieved it from.

Dying it in black, I wrapped the obi that had been sewn with the use of the Himegimi's locks, and retrieved the crest of the Kamisato Clan. Adorning it on my person, I viewed myself at the mirror to see my handiwork.

"Finally," I murmured, feeling an odd sensation in my chest as I wore the fruits of my labor. "It is now complete."

With the chaos guiding me and masking my presence, I fled to head by the mountain.

I knew where you were bound to go.

I knew of your crimes long before you knew me.

I didn't paid much attention if anyone saw me. I didn't care if blood simply poured from my attire and to the ground that I'm walking on. I could hardly give a damn if some realized of my crimes in that blasted estate.

I had my scissors with me, and I only wish to fulfill my last wish before I leave this cursed world.

You murdered my family, [Name].

You were the one who caused that fire all those years ago.

I remember those burns you gave me. I remember just how much of a coward you were, fleeing from the scene you caused yourself.

How could I lose everything? And how can you keep your family?

No. No, that mustn't happen. I must set this right.

As your 'lover', I'll make sure you understand what you did wrong.

The culprit of the legend was caught, at least by the end.

All of the townsfolk had banded over to help the detective figure out who had caused such a stir, and it was only because of one eye-witness that said everything. That simply told the truth of the man behind it all.

It was the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, the one who was gripped with envy, that caused such a massacre to occur.

When they found what became of the last victim, his 'lover', they became a doll of his own. After killing them, the legend proceeded to speak of how he had simply 'sown' their skin alongside his, making them his perfect beloved doll.

One of the iterations even mentioned that his unnamed lover was in a Shiromuku outfit, eyes gouged so they may "never look at another man". At least, from what the tale has concluded.

Because of the severity of his crime, the tailor was sent to be on his death row. When the detective tried to get information out of him, they found out that he has lost his mind.

He became a shell of the brilliant man they knew, laughing and speaking that he has finally fulfilled his desire.

Even when he was dragged onto the guillotine, that day was marked as the end of the massacre, and those who were alive spoke of the man's chilling laughter up until his head was cut off.

...

And that was the end of the "Crimson-Eyed Tailor" and his legend.

Or, more accurately, the history of the known "Dead Man's Heart" case, and how Kaedehara Kazuha murdered the one he "loved" for revenge.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Eight

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: sorry about how long this took i am busy and tired and also didn't want to write all this sad shit but alas, i did it. we are officially done with season one! i will be taking a small hiatus before i get to posting the next chapters for season two, but i cannot wait to continue this for you all. mwah mwah mwah

Word count: 8.8k

Chapter Eight

As your final week at the Dogtrack began, you found yourself already getting nostalgic. You wandered the lower levels gently, strolling in and out of every room, before you ascended the steps to the upper levels. You slalomed through the concessions, waving hello to the bar workers, cleaners, and others who were getting ready for the final game of the season that Saturday. You ascended another level to reach Rebecca’s office, and when her door loomed before you, you knocked upon it. 

Rebecca shot you a look of understanding when you entered her office, almost sullenly. You tried to keep your spirits up, but she could see right through you about this– the same way everyone else could when you gently popped your head around the locker room door that morning. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rebecca said, opening her arms warmly as you clicked the door shut behind you. 

You allowed her to encase you in a hug, one where you couldn’t help but imagine her as the Virgin Mary and you as her tiny baby Jesus. Rebecca’s bosom was just that comforting that you couldn’t liken it to anything else, but you would never tell her that. Not in a million years.

“Are you okay?” she asked, as she removed her calming grip from you. 

You nodded once. “Yeah,” you said, but your voice cracked involuntarily. “Maybe,” you added, and it only made Rebecca laugh sympathetically. 

“Did you submit your final assignment?” she asked. 

“Yes, thank fuck,” you breathed out, before you flopped yourself onto the sofa. “Every last thing I needed to do has been done, so now I just… wait, I guess.”

Rebecca dropped herself beside you and crossed her legs. “Waiting isn’t so bad of a thing, I suppose. I waited to see the Spice Girls live for over a year, and it turned out brilliant.”

“I think waiting for a concert is vastly different than this, Rebecca,” you let out. You spread yourself out on her sofa, starfish style. She reached out and grabbed your knee affectionately. “I’m not waiting for a once in a lifetime performance, I’m waiting for the inevitable end of coming to this place every fucking day.” You lifted your head up quickly, and shot a wild gaze her way. “What if they all forget about me?”

“That’s not fucking possible,” she said strongly. “And if you go off the radar then you can count on Keeley and I coming to batter down your damn door, or someone else.”

“Someone else?” you questioned, and your mind immediately went to Lasso. “I don’t think Ted would do that. He’s far too soft and squishy to break down a door, don’t you think?” you rattled off. 

“I didn’t mean Ted,” Rebecca said, squeezing your knee gently. You inhaled when she looked at you knowingly, before you dropped your head back down to stare at the ceiling. She didn’t need to say a name for you to know that she meant Roy. 

Roy Kent would definitely batter down doors, you thought, but whether or not yours would come into that equation was a mystery. He hadn’t battered down your door before, only knocked and begged to come inside… 

Was that the same thing?

“They’re going to bench him,” you said plainly. 

“I know,” Rebecca said. 

“I think he knows it, too,” you said. 

“I think you’re right,” Rebecca said, before she retracted her grip from you. She stood up strongly, and peered down at you like a giant. “No more moping, come on,” she said, as you allowed her to hoist you from the sofa. 

“If I can’t mope, what the fuck am I supposed to do for the next five days?” 

Rebecca smiled. “Enjoy it,” she said. “Before it’s all over, enjoy it.” 

On Tuesday, you grabbed a coffee from the cafe in the morning like normal. You scuffed your feet on the concrete as you headed to your office afterwards, but got immediately side tracked when you heard a ruckus from the locker room. Without dropping off your belongings, you headed there first to check out what was wrong. 

You entered the uncharacteristically quiet locker room, only to discover Ted, Nate, Higgins and Rebecca. 

“Why so hostile, Nathan?” Rebecca said, as a mischievous smile graced her face. 

“Wait… you know my name?” Nate asked, as you slowed to an almost comically paced slow walk. You held your breath, not wanting to interrupt the four of them. 

“I needed to know it for when I wrote your contract,” she said, before she sent a look your way. She winked at you, and you were reminded of a text from Roy a few weeks prior– Nate was due to get promoted, but for the past month he’d been afraid he was going to get fired. 

You had to admit it, but the look on his face was fucking hilarious. 

Ted smacked a hand down on Nate’s shoulder. “You’re not getting fired, buddy, you’re getting promoted!”

All of a sudden, the closed blinds of the manager’s office revealed the screaming team of AFC Richmond behind. They yelled and cheered, and Colin let off a confetti cannon as he burst through the door and into the main locker room. Nate’s shock and fear dissipated immediately, turning into excitement and appreciation, as soon as he locked eyes with Rebecca again. 

She handed him his contract, and the word coach at the top made him want to cry. This was what he’d wanted for so long, but what he’d never dared to think about achieving. Seeing his name on this contract, however, made everything change. He’d made it. He’d really fucking made it. The guys gathered like a swarm of bugs, picking Nate easily off the floor and gently swinging him in the air triumphantly. You laughed at their joy, their excitement, as you peered up at him atop Isaac’s and Sam’s shoulders. 

Roy gently approached you from behind. He skidded his knuckles across your lower back, alerting you to his presence. You crossed your arms and leaned back into him without even thinking. Your upper back thumped against his chest gently, as the two of you kept your eyes on an overjoyed Nathan.

You twisted yourself around and looked up at the smile on Roy’s face. You jabbed him in the abdomen gently, as he peered down at you. “You’ve gone soft,” you said, just loud enough for him to hear. 

Roy sniffed, trying to puff out his chest to counteract your words. “No I fucking haven’t,” he said, but it was clear that you were right. 

Without hesitation, you raised your hand to his face and gently prodded his cheek. “I think I just felt a tear,” you joked, before you prodded again. You widened your eyes in false shock. “No, I definitely did. You’re on the brink of crying, aren’t you?” 

Roy’s attempt at staying stoic went out the window upon your second prod. He swiftly pushed your hand away and guided your shoulders around to face the rest of the room, before he playfully wrapped his arms over your shoulders and chest. You leaned further into him, bringing your hands to grab hold of his forearms strongly. He was so close to resting his chin on the top of your head, and part of him wanted to, but he didn’t. You refrained from tilting your head back from fear that he’d pull away. 

Instead, the two of you swayed from side to side gently, smiling, laughing, peering out at the joyous scene before you. Neither of you dared to question the position you were in, whether mental or physical. You simply held on for dear life, and chose not to focus on the fact this would all be over in a matter of days. 

On Wednesday, you took your laptop outside to the stands. You sat there for most of the day, tapping upon your keyboard, until the late afternoon sun shone against the blue and red plastic seats of the Dogtrack. You only went inside to piss, or eat, or drink, but even those times were sparse. Even by the time practice had been and gone, you were still outside, soaking up the sun. 

The echo of footsteps on the opposite side of the stadium hit you, and when you looked up you were surprised to see the small outline of Roy. He headed to one of the blue seats in the stands, hands in his leather jacket pockets. You gently went to close your laptop, thinking about joining him, but you stopped when you saw another figure emerge. Ted walked up the stairs of the stands, before he slotted himself beside Roy in the sea of blue. 

Innately, you knew what they were going to talk about. Pulling off the bandaid. Quickly and without fuss, you grabbed your belongings and headed back inside. The guys were packing up to head home after a long day. You bumped into Sam in the corridor, and strolled to the car park together. 

“Do you need a lift? I can drop you home,” he offered, as you approached his car. Further down the car park, you saw Roy’s Jeep. 

You shook your head gently. “Thank you, but I’m good,” you said. Sam followed your eyes to Roy’s Jeep, and when he looked back at you, there was an understanding look on his face. 

“See you tomorrow?” he questioned. 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” you replied, beaming. 

Sam drove off a moment later. When you were alone, you strolled towards Roy’s Jeep and leaned against the passenger side door gently. The Spring sun shone off the hood, casting an orange glow over the entire car park. This reminded you of before, the first time he’d ever driven you home from the stadium. The sun was the same colour, and it was so vibrant that his pitch black car had erupted with a volcanic glow. 

Secretly, you thought the colour orange suited Roy. 

You crossed your arms and looked at the ground, waiting for the inevitable moment that Roy appeared. You didn’t want him to be alone, not for this–  not ever, really– so you planted yourself on the concrete, content with waiting for him to finally leave for home. 

Roy stormed through the stadium, gym bag in one hand and his car keys in the other. He huffed through his nose painfully as he opened the doors to the car park, and was ready to scream at the top of his fucking lungs– until he saw you. You leaned against his Jeep, head down to the point where your hair covered the obviously sleepy expression on your face. Your arms were crossed over your chest, and your knees were slightly bent from tiredness. 

He slowed his pace as he approached you, and unlocked his car with his keys. You felt the car vibrate behind you, and noticed the flash of lights as it unlocked. When you looked up, Roy was no more than a metre away from you, and still fast approaching. You sucked in a gentle breath as he tugged open the passenger side door for you. 

“Jump in,” was all he said, and you didn’t have to be told twice. He shut the door behind you after you were settled and jumped into the driver’s seat. He started the engine, leaving the car park as fast as he possibly could.

The drive was silent. Roy didn’t turn on the radio, nor did you ask him to, either. When he turned down your street, he pulled onto the curb outside your building. He cut the engine, and the interior went utterly silent. Gently, you looked at him. He looked back, and his stare was enough to make you melt. 

You sucked in a deep breath. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked. 

Roy’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. His entire body tensed. “No,” he said plainly. 

“Okay,” you said gently, shooting him a small smile in understanding. “If you want to, you know where I am.”

Roy nodded, trying to keep it together. “Yeah,” he said, but it came out forcefully, like he didn’t want to show what he was truly feeling. You didn’t press him, but instead grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. 

“See you tomorrow?” you asked, as you laid your hand on the door handle. 

“Yeah,” Roy said again, hiding behind the pain in his chest.

You got out of his Jeep, and slammed the door shut behind you. You sent him a small wave from the pavement, and before you could even reach your door, he’d switched on the ignition and veered off down the road. 

On Thursday, Roy didn’t come to the stadium. His absence was felt by everyone, especially the team. Ted was quiet for most of the day, trying to keep up his commonplace enthusiasm, but it was clear that he felt guilty. No one blamed him, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like he’d done the unthinkable. 

You grabbed lunch with Keeley, but the quiet and sombre feeling from the stadium had rubbed off on you, too. You swirled your fork in your plate of pasta, and had hardly touched your glass of wine. Keeley cleared her throat opposite you, before she leaned forward gently. 

“Babe,” she started, as you met her eye. “It’ll be alright,” she said, trying to keep things light. 

“Sorry, I’m being such a fucking downer, aren’t I?” you breathed out, before attempting to perk yourself up. 

“It’s understandable. Change is scary,” she said. 

“It’s like, even though I try not to, I’m counting down the minutes until it’s all over. At five o’clock tomorrow evening, I’ll be done at Richmond.” Saying it outloud had you getting choked up. You swallowed quickly to stop your throat from closing up. 

The cogs in Keeley’s brain started whirring. “You sound just like Roy, you know? In your article, when he talked about not knowing what to do after he retired.” You listened to her intently, thankful for her kindness. “There will always be opportunities beyond the now, especially for talented fuckers like you and him,” she said, and you huffed at her bluntness. “You must have had employers in touch after the article, surely?”

You nodded at her, and thought about your inbox full of job offers. “I’ve had a few, yeah. That’s not what I’m worried about, though. I could work anywhere, I think it’s just… everything else, that’s getting me down.”

The end of the season. The threat of relegation. Saying goodbye. Every-fucking-thing. 

“You’ve got time,” Keeley reassured you. “Your lease at the flat doesn’t end until July, you’ve got job offers left right and fucking centre, and, well– you’ve got Roy.”

You furrowed your brows quizzically, but that was counteracted by the small smile that curled onto your lips. “Got Roy for what?”

Keeley sent you an amused look. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that,” she said, as she shoved another mouthful of pasta in her gob. “I see the way you two are when you’re together.”

You huffed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, here.”

Keeley dropped her fork and pointed at you abruptly. “You’re in denial, babes.”

“I am not–”

“Yes, you fucking are! You’ve been around a whole bunch of sexy footballers for months now, one of which has gone out of his way for you, your degree and your future, not to mention he showed up at your door with an apology fit for a fucking queen. All I’m saying is, if I was in your shoes, I would have had him at least three times by now–”

“Keeley,” you warned her, through a wave of amusement. 

“What? Not even a fucking kiss? What a bloody waste,” she said, before she grinned at you with her teeth mischievously. 

“The last thing Roy needs right now is me scuttling around him.” You took a sip of your wine. “He’s got enough on his plate as it is, and I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Do you hear yourself, babes?” Keeley said, her eyes wide. “You’re exactly what he fucking needs right now.”

You scoffed at that, reminded of yesterday in his car. “No, I’m not. Even at the best of times, Roy has the emotional output of a fucking teacup, but yesterday…” you trailed off, taking another sip– more like a gulp– of wine. 

“Was it bad?” Keeley asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, it was bad.” 

Keeley leant across the table and grabbed your hand quickly. Her touch had superpowers, you thought. You always felt infinitely better when she found a soft way to reassure you. “His feelings aren’t your problem to fix, babes. You’ve let him know you’re there to support him, which is all any of us can do.”

You nodded, and let out a pent up breath. “Yeah,” you said, smiling at her. “You’re right, it’ll be fine.”

“All you need to focus on is enjoying the last days of your placement, alright?”

You chuckled at her. “I can do that. For you, I can do that.” 

Keeley squeezed your hand harder, and you let her. The two of you clinked your glasses together, as you enjoyed the final lunch break meal of your placement at AFC Richmond. 

On Friday, you started clearing out your office. You shoved all your supplies, books, post-its from Sam and the like, into a cardboard box that you could walk home with at the end of the day. You sat at your desk in the morning for the last time, and opened up your laptop despite having no fucking work to do. You skimmed through your emails, and added interview dates in your calendar, but you had to stop and hold your breath when you saw a new email fly into your inbox. 

It was from Pluto Press, the publisher that you’d meant to have your original placement with. They reached out after reading your article in the Independent, and had asked to set up a meeting for a possible job opening. Just like that, cogs had started flying into place. 

If you got a job there, you’d be able to stay in Richmond. In your flat, around your friends, around the boys, and around the club. You emailed back immediately, letting them your availability for an interview, and started curating a portfolio of your work before and during your time at AFC Richmond. Keeley was right— change was scary, but it was also exciting.

You just had to let yourself believe it all.

By lunch, you’d cleared out your entire office. It looked too bare, too empty. You swiped your hands over the cinder block walls— walls that you’d become so familiar with that it seemed painful to know you’d be leaving them behind in a matter of hours. 

Behind you, Sam knocked at your door. You turned and met his eye, and sent him a saddened smile.

“All packed up?” he asked, looking at the emptiness of it all.

You nodded, letting out a huff. “It feels so weird. I feel like I haven’t been here nearly long enough, but also for years at the same time.”

He strolled further into your office. You felt calm when he was near. “This place will do that to you. Make you settled and comfortable, but that is when time passes you by without realising.” 

“Yeah,” you acknowledged him gently, before sighing. “Are you on your second workout already?” Sam nodded. You stepped forward, and could see the other guys headed to the gym together through the door. A question danced in your mind. “No Roy today?” 

Sam shook his head. “We think he switched off his mobile. We’ve tried to reach out, but—,” He shrugged. “Nothing.” 

“I tried on Wednesday,” you said, as you leaned against your empty desk. “It was the same. Like he was feeling everything and nothing at the same time.”

“That has always been Roy’s way, I think,” Sam said. “He will come back if he wants to, and he knows we will be here if he does. No one is to blame for this.” 

“I know,” you breathed out shakily. “But, that’s just it, isn’t it?” You peered up at Sam’s soft and welcoming face, and you knew then that he understood you wholeheartedly. It felt good to be known. “It’s out of our control— but that’s when I want to fix things even more. It’s gutting to know we can’t do anything.” 

“That is because you are kind,” Sam said, and stepped towards you once more. “Too kind for your own good, sometimes. You want to fix everything all of the time, and feel responsible for other people’s feelings far too much, might I add.”

You huffed, feeling vulnerable. “Come off it.” 

“See!” Sam exclaimed. “You just proved my point for me.” 

You waved him off playfully. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…” you trailed off. 

Sam settled comfortably. “I am going to miss this.” 

This. Your chats. Your moments of shared clarity. Sharing a space with one another every day of the week. 

You ignored the strain you felt when your throat closed suddenly. You swallowed away the urge to cry. “Me too.” 

He headed towards your door then, smiling knowingly as he left. “I will see you after?” he asked, lingering on the doorway.

You nodded strongly, despite the rapid way your eyes were welling up. “I’ll be here.” 

You finished up some final emails in your bare office, before you sat in the cafe with a cup of tea for the remainder of the day. When the clock hit 4:30pm, you left sullenly. You felt a strange sense of peace as you navigated the empty corridors of the lower level, and were surprised to find the gym and locker room utterly empty.

The guys were nowhere to be seen, and Ted and Beard’s office was quiet of all Americans and Brits alike, too. You sighed to yourself, as you looked up at the yellow believe poster above the manager’s doorway.

You couldn’t believe this was it. Your last day. You’d spent nine months strolling up and down these corridors and rooms, sharing smiles and commiserations with the team, a joke with Ted, a look at Roy. When you thought back to the September before, you’d been so annoyed to be in this position, but now? 

You wouldn’t trade this experience for the world. 

It didn’t feel right, though. It didn’t feel like closure, because you knew that someone was missing. Roy wasn’t here. He wasn’t here on your final day to roll his eyes, or boom profanity, or offer to drive you home just to spend a few more moments with you. He wouldn’t be starting on the pitch tomorrow, or may not even show up at all, as you sat in the stands for your last game under contract at the club. 

It was almost too much to bear. You’d started your journey here with Roy, and it seemed only right to end it with him— but that wasn’t an option anymore.

You let the last of your composure fall away as you finally let go. Your eyes welled past the point of staying dry, as tears crept down your cheeks, tracking shining lines down your face. You peered around the room as you held yourself, taking in the red and blue everywhere, the numbers and names on the cubbies, and fluorescent lights overhead. You’d never expected for it all to feel so sad. Leaving, saying goodbye, moving onto other things. 

You realised then that, if you had the option, you’d stay at Richmond in a heartbeat. Fuck publishing. Fuck your book. You wanted the comfort of the cinder block walls and the laughter trickling from every room. 

You wanted to stay.

“Is it really the end already?” Ted said from the doorway. You jumped from the surprise, and turned to him quickly.

You wiped your tears away frantically, trying to hide your face, but when his soft and knowing smile hit you, it only increased your sadness. He strolled towards you gently, hands in his pockets. 

You sucked in a shaking breath before forcing yourself

to speak. “Give or take twenty minutes, but… yeah,” you let out, sputtering out embarrassed chuckles as you did so. 

Ted peered down at you. Him and his moustache smiled at you. “Come here,” he said gently, before he encased you in a hug. 

You let him hold you, as you laid your head on his shoulder and sniffed away the last of your tears. 

“I might be joining you on the goodbye train out of here, too, y’know?” he said, as you pulled away from his embrace. “Oh! You should come and visit Kansas!” You chuckled at the ease in his change of tone. “We’ve got great barbeque, and none of that brown watered monstrosity that you call tea.” 

“I love tea,” you croaked, as your voice levelled out and away from a wobbling mess.

“I just don’t get it! Roy said the same thing last night,” Ted whittled on. Your gut lurched at the mention of Roy’s name.

“You saw Roy?” you asked.

“I sure did. He stopped me from getting hit by one of those taxis— sorry, black cabs— last night. And we had a little chat afterwards at my place.” 

“How is he?” you asked, trying to keep the desperation from your voice, if that was even possible. 

Even just a few days without Roy had you feeling fucking crazy, especially after your drive home earlier in the week.

“He’s doing alright,” Ted’s voice settled. “About tomorrow’s match though, well… we’ll see.” 

You nodded in understanding. At the end of the day, it was Roy’s decision whether he wanted to show up or not. You prayed he would, prayed he’d be there to hear you scream your lungs out in the owner’s box for the last time during your placement. 

“I’ve got something for you,” Ted said suddenly, before he pulled out something from his pocket. You hovered your hand out for him, and he placed a small, green army man in your palm. “For protection. Just a little goodbye present,” he added, and your heart swelled.

You held it in your fingers, and felt a finality surge through you. You peered up at Ted thankfully. “I’ll miss you,” you said. 

“You, too.” Ted smiled. “Now, come on! The guys have something planned for you.” 

You followed Ted out of the locker room, sniffing away the last of your tears as you did so. He zoomed ahead as you tried to keep up with him, and turned to the left towards the tunnel towards the pitch. You emerged into the late afternoon light behind Ted, and what met your gaze had your heart in your throat immediately. 

The boys stood on the pitch, holding individual signs with letters upon them that spelled out the words– write about us. 

Starting from Isaac, all the way to Sam at the other end, those twelve letters burned themselves into your retinas. Behind those boys, the rest of the team cheered. As your last day at AFC Richmond came to its end, you felt more known than you ever had before. Each of these players, and coaches, and crew, knew you so wholeheartedly that you could hardly believe it. Your impact had spread around the stadium off Nelson Road like wildfire.

It only cemented the love you felt for them all. Even if you wanted to, they wouldn’t let you remove yourself from their team after this. You were Richmond till you died, and you had never been happier about something being set in stone.

As the group dispersed, Sam, Colin and Isaac approached you quickly. You let them encase you immediately, ignoring the slight suffocation of knotted limbs and laughing bellies that surrounded all of you. You would have let them smother you to death in a heartbeat. What a wonderful way to die that would be. 

“When you go out tonight, you better have enough drinks for all of us, bruv,” Isaac said, as the four of you gently parted. 

“I’d be downing a pint with you if it weren’t for Man City tomorrow,” Colin said. “It’s best we get an early night and keep up our strength for the game instead, you know?”

You smiled in understanding. “Don’t worry about me. Whatever happens tomorrow, we’ll be drinking in the pub after the game, anyway.”

Sam placed his hand on your shoulder and squeezed. “I am already looking forward to it.”

You sent a look at each of them in turn, trying to portray just how much you appreciated them, how much you loved them, but you felt like it had to be said in words. You sucked in a deep breath. “I will,” you started, but noticed their confused faces. “Write about you, I mean. There’s already too much of you all within me that I’ll have to get it out on paper sooner or later.” 

Colin and Sam smiled like the sun. Isaac’s face scrunched up painfully, until it was clear he was holding back tears in his eyes. 

You walked home in the dwindling Spring sun. Down Nelson Road, across Richmond green, past Mae’s pub, and the like– you knew Richmond like the back of your hand now, and had no desire to leave. Lucky for you, you had a feeling you’d land a position at Pluto Press soon, which meant you wouldn’t have to uproot yourself again. You could stay in your flat, stay close to the guys, stay close to Roy–

You cleared your throat abruptly at the thought of the Richmond captain. You hadn’t heard from him in two days, and didn’t know if he was going to show at the game tomorrow. It was none of your business, either, but you still felt a craving to let him know that you were there for him; through thick or thin, despite all the shit between you in the past, and even now. Roy Kent deserved to know how much you loved him, and your time at the stadium that day had only made you all the more nostalgic and emotional. 

When you got back to your flat, you quickly opened your laptop and printed out what you had in mind. You were practically jumping by your printer as the ink cascaded over the once blank page, and were bounding out of your door before the words had even dried.

You rushed down your road towards Roy’s house, not even thinking about what you’d do or say if he was at home or opened his door. As the sun began to fully set over your small neighbourhood in Richmond, the fancy houses that you passed seemed to almost loom over you. They cast shadows upon the pavements and empty roads, but you didn’t hesitate as you approached Roy’s driveway. 

Gently, you folded up the small piece of paper you’d printed, and placed it on his welcome mat by the front door. Inside, the lights were off, but you still knocked quickly before you turned on your heels and left. You weren’t about to wait around, or call in on him out of the blue– not after his long week. So, you left as soon as your knuckles were done wrapping on his door, and rounded his driveway before he could’ve opened his door and caught you. 

Roy saw you leave. Through the windows in his porch, and the large panes of glass that showed off his living room, he saw you approach his home and leave immediately after knocking. Before he could reach his door, you’d already turned the corner of his drive, back towards your building. 

The urge was there to shout out, to run after you and acknowledge how today was your final day at the club, but he held himself back. He hadn’t seen you since he’d driven you home, since he’d been feeling everything and nothing at the same time. He didn’t want to face you while he still felt the repercussions of it all, and especially not before the game. 

It was selfish, he knew, but you would have stuck around if you’d wanted to see him, too. As he looked out at his driveway, he wondered why you’d even bothered to knock upon his door and leave straight away– until he looked down. On his welcome mat was a small, folded piece of paper. Roy bent down and grabbed it, before he retreated inside, back to the dark. 

He didn’t like turning on his lights a lot of the time. It angered him that he had to pay to put on the lights in his home, and it felt even stupider that he needed them when he mostly looked at his phone screen, or the television. They were pointless, most of the time, but as he sat at his dining table, he turned on a lamp to the side of him.

He unfurled the note you’d left him, and as his eyes traced the printed ink– alongside some of your own writing– he found himself smiling. 

It was the email from your lecturer, when he’d told you about Roy’s impromptu visit to your university, all those months ago. It felt like it’d been five years, not a little over nine months. Beneath the email, you’d written something short and heartfelt– A reminder of the time that we became friends. Thank you for everything during my time at the club. Whether you play or not tomorrow, I’ll be yelling from the owner’s box for you. 

Roy sat back and inhaled deeply. “Fuuuuck,” he whispered. It cemented his decision for tomorrow in a millisecond; he would go, even if he was on the bench. He would go for you. 

As you walked to Nelson Road the next day, nerves bubbled in your gut incessantly. This was it, the final hurrah. Richmond’s threat of relegation was imminent, and it was only a matter of time before them and all the fans would witness their downfall. You didn’t even want to think about it, it felt blasphemous, but it was almost impossible not to understand how much this game meant. 

Even more so when you thought about Jamie Tartt. This was the first time in a while that he’d been back at Man City, and against his former teammates as a consequence. You knew that Jamie wouldn’t care– he’d go out there and play like he normally did, to an annoyingly good level despite his ego, and wouldn’t think twice about dominating against his old team. 

But the guys– they would feel every sting, they would take every hit, and they would be heading outside onto the pitch for an all out battle. You knew it well. 

Against your wishes, you chose not to go to the locker room and greet the guys before this game. Instead, you headed for the owner’s box immediately, and found yourself sitting there alone for the first twenty minutes before the pre-game started. You knew that Keeley and Rebecca would be around, but you were almost glad that you got some time to yourself. Just to breathe, to soak it all in, before you got ready to yell for your life. 

As the stadium started to fill up, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You fished it out, and when your eyes traced over the message,  the butterflies in your stomach seemed to mellow out. It was from Roy.

Still in the owner’s box? 

You smiled as you typed your reply, and sent it without any hesitation. 

Of course. Still not the caretaker?

Roy smiled at his phone in the locker room, sitting quietly as everyone prepared for the game. He’d just handed off his Captain armband to Isaac McAdoo, and didn’t fully know what he was feeling. Knowing you’d be outside when he stepped upon the pitch was enough at this moment. 

Not yet. I’ve still got game in me, even if I am on the fucking bench for this. 

It’s too bad. I was hoping to see you rightfully start on Jamie, but this time you’d be on the opposing team. All the more dramatic. 

Roy huffed to himself. It was impossible not to feel the comedy in your words as you sent them his way, both over text and in person. 

Don’t tempt me. I’ll still fucking do it if I get the chance. 

Looking forward to it. 

“Alright, fellas!” Ted clapped his hands together. Roy sent one last message, before he put his phone in his bag and out of the way. The boys settled into their pre-match pep talk, and that was that. 

You read Roy’s final reply, feeling a warmth that you’d never be able to describe. 

See you out there. 

Keeley, Rebecca and Higgins joined you soon after. As the minutes whittled down before kick-off, you tried and failed to place yourself in some kind of zen mode. The air was almost too thick, and coupled with the upset you felt about leaving Richmond, you spent the majority of the time until the players emerged trying not to fucking cry. 

The atmosphere shifted as soon as the players ran out of the tunnel. You held your breath as they lined up for the anthem, and leaned over the edge of the box so you could see them all better. The unmistakable look of a Captain band was on Isaac’s arm, over Roy’s, and you felt proud of them both. It mustn’t have been an easy decision for Roy to make, but he’d still done it. Isaac must have been feeling nerves ten times what he was used to, but he wore the band with pride. 

After the anthem, the teams split up on each side of the pitch. When Roy would usually head to his starting position, he exited off to the sides and headed towards Richmond’s bench. He slipped on a long-sleeve thermal, before he took a few moments to peer around the stadium stands. Richmond’s bench and coaches were right beneath the owner’s box; you had a full view of all the second string players and Ted and Beard alike. Seeing Roy there was like an entirely different feeling– he was closer to you, which you didn’t mind in the slightest. 

As Roy peered around the entire stadium, he twisted himself around to land his gaze upon the owner’s box. His eyes found you in seconds, and yours glued onto his in response. You leaned further over the lip of the box, and rested your chin on your knuckles as you looked at him. You smiled. He smiled back. Quickly, you shuffled your hand from beneath your chin and made a simple OK sign with your fingers. Roy chuckled to himself unavoidably, before he gently sent you an OK sign back. 

You glanced quickly at the pitch, and the match was about to begin. You stood abruptly, with Roy’s eyes still on you from below. Sucking in a deep breath, you exhaled it alongside your loudest Come on, Richmond! imaginable. 

Roy had to turn away to hide his smile. It was colossal as he headed towards the bench and sat down. It didn’t go away until the whistle blew and the game began. He waa going to miss seeing you everyday, but he knew that you would still go to games at the Dogtrack. That should have given him some comfort, but it didn’t. He knew his time was up. 

The game started, and you didn’t sit down for the first half in its entirety. Dani scored halfway through the first half, and you erupted when he did. You hugged Rebecca and Keeley like there was no tomorrow, and that early had the team in great spirits for the rest of the half– until it was fucked. A sneak attack had Man City emerge into the box, and with two minutes to go until the whistle blew for halftime, they equalised. You let out a heartfelt “Fuck!” when they did so, and found yourself dropping back into your seat glumly. They’d been so close, but they simply had to hold it together now. You watched silently as the team scuttled back to the locker room for the interval.

Ted had a plan up his sleeve. He had the power of Beard and Nate on his side, and they had the advantage of knowing City’s star player through and through– Jamie Tartt. If he was still the same after he left, then there was a chance that the guys knew how to get to him and mess up his game. It was a longshot, but it was a good place to start. 

They needed speed, that was for sure. When Jamie got the ball, it instilled the fear of man into every single person on the opposing team. He was unstoppable, and almost impossible to tackle when he got going. That was the goal– keep the ball as far away from Jamie fucking Tartt as they could. 

“We’re so close, guys,” Isaac spoke up suddenly. “Another goal, and we clinch the win. We just have to hold our defence together, you get me?” 

“Keep that ball away from Jamie,” Richard said, and nods of agreement rounded the room. 

“Exactly right, boys,” Ted joined in. “If we get out there, if we believe, we can do this!” The energy shifted tenfold, and the priorly defeated guys were pumped up once more. “Roy, you’re starting in the next half. I want you back on that pitch,” Ted added finally, before players started trickling out of the locker room. 

Roy glanced over at Isaac. Isaac gave him back his Captain armband without a second glance, smacking a hand on Roy’s shoulder warmly before they headed back to the pitch. 

Your heart jolted when Roy started in the second half. You knew Ted well enough to know that he wouldn’t bench Roy for the entire game, but it was a surprise when he swapped him out after halftime. It was true that Richmond needed fast players to keep up defensively, and despite Roy being slow now, you knew that he held more in terms of power. 

Players were scared of him. He had an anger that always came out on the pitch, one that left players, referees and coaches alike with a similar mindset– do not get on Roy Kent’s bad side, because he will make you pay. 

As the second half proceeded, it was anxiety inducing how little things happened. It was a full back and forth, with hardly any opportunities for Richmond or Man City to go for a goal. Both teams had put their defences up tenfold, and neither wanted to risk that and fuck up the rest of their game. It was almost like a stalemate, like a disaster waiting to happen. 

As full time approached, you could hardly fucking breathe. You clutched Keeley’s hand tightly as the guys kept up with each other, and simply tried to get through this shit. Jamie hadn’t yet found an opportunity to break through, until there were less than five minutes in it. When he snuck through, you shot up from your seat and screamed. 

“Tartt’s going for the box!” you screeched at the top of your lungs, clutching your hand over your heart and crunkling the Richmond shirt that you donned fondly. 

The home fans in the crowd rose intensely, as they noticed a player creeping up behind Jamie. Even Arlo and Chris in the commentator box could hardly believe it– Roy was going for Tartt, running at speeds that hadn’t been seen from him for a matter of years. He was stealthy, pumping his arms in perfect harmony with his legs, until he launched himself into a perfect sliding tackle.

You raised your hands to your mouth as he did so, and the ball was knocked from Jamie’s orbit as the two of them dropped to the grass harshly. The cheers for Roy were impossible to block out, and you joined in as soon as you recognised the familiar tune. 

He’s here, he’s there, he’s every-fucking-where! Roy Kent! Roy Kent! 

You rejoiced with Keeley and Higgins in turn, pumping your arms triumphantly within the owner’s box, until the clock restarted– but that moment didn’t come. Instead, as you laid your eyes back out onto the pitch, Jamie reluctantly stood and shook himself off after that tackle, but Roy…

“He’s not getting up,” Keeley said, confused. “Why isn’t he getting up?”

Your eyes burned as you took in the image of Roy, sprawled on the ground, clutching his kneecap. Something was wrong, and that was plain to see. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. This couldn’t be it, surely. This couldn’t be the time he wasn’t able to get up and keep playing. Not now. 

Sam and Isaac approached him quickly, and huddled around him. The physio was on stand-by, and Ted and Beard were practically chewing off their fingernails in anticipation. Sam helped Roy up slowly, dragging him up from the pitch as he took in the chant that he’d become so accustomed too. It had echoed throughout the Premier League for more than a decade, almost two. He was a household name, respected by footballers, pundits, coaches– you. 

Roy limped off the pitch, waving to the crowd in good nature. He would never be wheeled off, or walked off with help, you knew that. Before he fully left for the tunnel, he quickly pulled the Captain band off his arm and passed it to Isaac. The two shared a moment that had your heart bombarding into your throat–

This was it. The moment that Roy had been talking about before. His last day of playing football. With an injury that bad, that had been settling for years and damaged further by overuse of his joints, you didn’t have to be a rheumatologist to know that he was done for. That final tackle had fully fucked his knee.

As he hobbled out of view, you couldn’t bear it any longer. You abruptly stood, and left the owner’s box without a word. Keeley and Rebecca saw you go, but said nothing to stop you. Instead, they shared a look with each other that said a thousand words– you were exactly what Roy needed. 

You fast-walked along the corridors of the Dogtrack, descending to the lower levels until you hit the familiar grey concrete floors. You passed by the full size pictures of players on the walls, and ignored the uncomfortable beat of your heart, until you stumbled around the corner to the locker room. 

You lingered by the door, and swallowed painfully, before you emerged into the doorway. Roy sat by his cubby. He’d shrugged off his shirt and thrown it on the floor unceremoniously. His right knee was red and already bruising, as he attempted to make himself comfortable. It was no use, though, not alongside the tears in his eyes that were welled so full it was a miracle they hadn’t already dropped down his face. 

You stepped into the room gently, and Roy jumped when he saw you. “No one’s allowed back here during a game,” he said bluntly, but the wobble of his words was enough to make your heart subtly crack. 

“I won’t tell,” you said gently, trying to diffuse the tension as best as you could. Roy knew you weren’t going to leave, but when goosebumps hit his skin, he flinched further away from you. 

“I told you, you have to get out,” he tried again. You only kept up your slow pace towards him. You weren’t going to back away from this, not when he needed you most. 

Roy’s aversions to being social, to being emotional, to being vulnerable, scattered all over the floor before you. You ignored them, and continued placing one foot in front of the other, until his attempts to deter you heightened even further. 

“I mean it– stay the fuck away from me!” 

You stopped when he said that, but still stayed in place. Peering down at Roy softly, you flicked your gaze over his face gently. He looked wounded, in more ways than one. You knew this day would fucking suck for him, and wanted to be there for him desperately. As much as he’d yelled at you to leave, you knew that was the opposite of what he needed. 

Slowly, you closed the gap between you. Instead of sitting beside him on the bench, you knelt to the floor before him. At this level, you were practically face to face, and Roy could easily see your intentions. Gently, you reached out and placed your hand on his cheek. Your fingers skimmed his jaw on the way, and his eyes stuttered shut at your touch. He leaned into it, and brought his hand up to cover your own softly.

You shuffled closer to him, placing yourself between his legs, as you leant upon his healthy leg. He let you, and urged you to do so, as he leant further down towards you. Roy’s breaths were shaking as he inhaled and exhaled, and a few tears fell from his closed eyes and splattered upon the concrete floor. 

“I don’t know what to fucking say,” Roy croaked painfully, as he opened his eyes and landed his stare upon you. 

You peered up at him thoughtfully, and swiped your thumb across his damp cheek, mopping up a few tears unintentionally. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Roy exhaled shakily once more, before he gently dropped his forehead onto your own. They bonked together almost clumsily, but you held each other in place for dear life. “Okay,” he said, trying to calm down. For a moment, he removed his forehead from yours and replaced it with a chaste kiss, just for a second. You shut your eyes as every hair on your body stood up on end, before he replaced his forehead back onto your own. “Thank you,” he said. 

As roars sounded from outside, neither of you knew which direction the match had gone in. All you knew was that the other was breathing, and this was something new for both of you. After all this time, being close to Roy didn’t feel shocking, or abrupt, or anything of the sort– it felt normal. The two of you stayed close until his heart had calmed down, and the adrenaline in his body had disappeared enough for his knee to start fucking killing him. 

You found an ice pack from the training room, and rushed back to his aid as soon as you could. Then, you sat next to him on the bench silently. He dropped his head onto your shoulder, and you draped your arm around him to fiddle with the hair at the nape of his neck. Roy’s fingers traced your knuckles distractedly, and the two of you stayed like that until the unmistakable echoes of his teammates emerged from the corridor. You didn’t want to move away, neither did he. 

As the season and your placement drew to a close, you knew that new things were out there. For you, for Roy, for the rest. Roy knew it too, as he contemplated his options after this injury, and this loss. All he had the energy to rationalise in those moments after the result were you related– would you still be near, would you still give him your time, would you still hold him this close? 

As much as he felt your warmth, radiating from every pore and crevice and fingertip and the like, invigorating his flesh and bones and blood and everything that made him, him– he couldn’t help but wonder… would all of this fade alongside this change?

As you laughed alongside his teammates, after their relegation, and his fucked up knee, and Ted’s possible resignation, he found himself smiling about all the good you offered every single person in that room. But, it wasn’t entirely truthful. Roy was afraid. But, he put on a happy face. He held your hand when it felt right, and he let you lean into him during Ted’s post-match talk. He smelled your perfume in wafts and held himself back from looking you directly in the eye, from fear that he’d do something stupid and place his lips upon yours. 

Roy Kent had often held himself back, but he didn’t want to do it with you. Not now, not after all the shit that had happened over the past nine months, and the fact that he’d become so used to your presence. But as he sat there, laughing through the pain with his team, and his coach, and you– he knew that want and circumstance were different things. 

Sometimes you couldn’t help the way things turned out– and not even you, or Roy, or AFC Richmond, were immune to those sullen twists of fate. 

CHAPTER NINE

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes @20th-centu-fairy-girl @royalestrellas @weakmoony-stuff@ironmanmagnetfridge @lemonpiegurll @hellomagicalsouls @her-fandom-sanctum @gothicwidowsworld @old-enough-to-know-better73 @djarindroid @afraidofshrimp @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @queen-of-dumbasses @sogoodtoheritsvicious @lznnph1l @crav1ngc4ke @onceuponaoneshot @jamieolivia27 @dadbodfanatic-x @kelp-dreaming @harrypedro465 @lonely-escape-artist @abeeabeeabee @nicklet94 @libsybum @cha0sdreaming @toomany24s @kashee-h @infinetlyforgotten @secretnook @cluelesslilsharkie @callmecasey81 @deepdarkvelvet @twiceinabluemoon @cardeegans @golden-hoax @kingleahhh @hoalkk1 @sunderland-6 @ellouisa17 @thesestrangerslikeme @elissaa @scrumptiousroadponymoney @confessionsofatotaldramaslut @ysmmsy @seacactusplant@pedritosgirl2000 

[quinns-shadowy-arts]

Feel My Heart Beat Against Your Palm

Day 5 of @steddielovemonth‘s Steddie Love Month Event!  Rating: T CW: Recreational Use of Drugs, Detailed Description of a Panic Attack, Detailed Description of a Nightmare.  Tags: Love Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Steve Harrington loves Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Living with the Aftermath of Trauma, Panic Attacks, Nightmares, Recreational Use of Drugs, Robin is Really Trying to get Steve and Eddie Together.  WC: 2,198  Prompt:  Love is being seen and known; Submitted by @acasualcrossfade  

Eddie’s staying the night, as he does every Friday. They’ve started a tradition. Eddie, Robin, and sometimes Nancy, Johnathan, and Argyle go over to Steve’s every Friday to watch movies. They all take turns picking the movie. Tonight was sort of a group decision. Robin had spotted Labyrinth in the “New Releases” section of Family Video. The group would’ve gone to the theater to see it when it first came out, but they were all still recovering from Vecna. So they’ve only gotten to it now. 

Robin thought Labyrinth sounded weird enough to satisfy her taste, Jonathan and Argyle thought it sounded fun, Nancy didn’t really have anything to say for or against the movie, Eddie wanted to see the puppetry and fantastical world, and Steve liked that David Bowie was in it. It seems that Steve has taken a liking to David Bowie more than he usually does, if Eddie has anything to say about it. Compared to the usual argument that would’ve unfolded, it seems that Labyrinth was the perfect pick for the group. 

After the movie was over, everyone sorta hung around for a bit. After discussing what they liked about the movie and other general topics, Nancy left to drive Jonathan and Argyle home. Robin stayed to help clean up a bit; chatting with Steve and Eddie further. Then the phone rang. 

“Hello?” Robin had answered the phone after a silent stare off between the three of them.  She nodded her head, followed with a bundle of ‘yeah’s and ‘mhm’s. She hangs the phone back up and turns to the other two. 

“So… My parents want me back home.” Robin says while twisting the ring on her middle finger. 

“What, why?” Steve questions. Robin usually spent the night with Steve and Eddie after their movie nights. 

“Um, something has just… come up.” Robin says while staring into Steve’s soul. She raises her eyebrows at him, trying to telepathically convey something to him. Steve furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head. Eddie thinks he looks like a puppy dog. The thought makes something warm swirl in his belly. 

After a couple of minutes, Steve’s eyebrows shoot up in understanding. 

“Ohhhh, yeah ok. Here, let me walk you to the door.” Steve walks over to Robin. They walk to the door and hushed whispers spill after them. Eddie is nosy, always has been and probably always will be. He tries listening to them while mindlessly moving things around, trying to look like he’s busy and not eavesdropping on their conversation. But alas, they’re too far away for any words to be coherent enough for Eddie to understand. After a couple of minutes, Steve walks back into the room.  

“Robin’s riding her bike home, something came up.” Steve says, walking over to walk some of the collected trash into the kitchen. 

“Is everything ok?” Eddie asks, following after Steve. Steve stands with his back turned to Eddie,

“Yeah, her parents just need her for something” Steve responds, barely turning his head in Eddie’s direction while stuffing the empty plates and cans into the trash can.    

“Oh ok.” Eddie nods. Sure, Robin makes things fun and he loves her, but Eddie is definitely not too upset about being able to spend some alone time with Steve. 

After finishing up cleaning, Eddie turns to Steve with a mischievous smirk. He pulls a baggie with joints out of his pocket, 

“Hey, want to maybe light up with me?” Eddie raises his eyebrows at Steve, still holding his smirk. Steve smiles back, 

“Yeah, dude. Why the hell not” Steve walks over to Eddie and plucks the joint out of his hand. 

“Let’s go up to my room, yeah?” Steve asks while not looking back, knowing that Eddie is already following. 

Once they get up to Steve’s room, Steve pulls open his window and stands against the ledge. He starts patting his pockets, trying to find his lighter. He sticks the rolled paper into his mouth, using both hands to dig around in his pockets. Eddie walks over and strikes up his lighter. He cups the end of the joint while lighting the end. 

Eddie makes the stupid decision to look up, making direct eye contact with Steve. His eyes are absolutely devastating. The moon hits off of them, lighting them up. The chocolate brown of his eyes meld together with an earthy green and flecks of pure gold, creating an all encapturing sight. His eyes look like a mossy forest, deep and enchanting. 

“Thanks, man.” Steve says, breaking the moment. He pulls a deep breath in, holding the smoke in before exhaling back out, aiming the smoke through the open window. Eddie blinks away, looking back down to put his lighter back into his pocket. 

Steve passes the joint over to Eddie. Eddie grasps the joint in his fingers. Steve’s hand brushes against Eddie’s, his hand warm and solid.  An electric feeling passes through Eddie. He shivers before taking his own hit. 

They stay there for a while, sitting in a comfortable silence while passing the joint back and forth. They don’t technically need to share, Eddie has another joint in his baggie. But they share anyway, they always do. Soon enough the joint has dwindled down, they’re both high enough to hopefully have a peaceful sleep. Steve turns to Eddie, looking into his eyes before speaking up,

“I’m tired, man. Ready to go to bed?” Eddie nods his head. His eyes feel as droopy as Steve’s look. Despite staying over every week, Eddie always ‘just happens to forget’ his pajamas at home. 

“Can I borrow some clothes? I forgot mine again.” Eddie tries to feign innocence by bringing his hand up to rub at the back of his neck. He can’t be blamed that much, though. He likes to feel close to Steve by wearing his clothes. He likes to pretend that he’s wearing them for different reasons, like maybe he belongs to Steve. That maybe Steve belongs to him, too. 

“Sure” Steve says as he walks over to his dresser. He pulls out a set of sweatpants and a soft, worn T-shirt. 

“Here, Eds” He says, tossing his clothes over to Eddie. He turns back around and starts changing into his own sleep wear. Eddie turns and starts undressing. He puts on the sweatpants first. They’re slightly too big on him. The length is fine, but the fabric hangs loose around his calves and thighs. They’re a light grey in color, soft and perfect. 

Eddie pulls on the shirt. It’s a dark, navy blue. The front reads “Hawkin’s Community Pool Lifeguard”. It’s probably one of the darkest shirts Steve owns, ironic due to it supposedly being worn out in the sun all day. It’s soft and a bit on the thinner side from being worn for so long. Eddie’s seen Steve wear this shirt around the house quite a bit. Knowing that he gets to wear one of Steve’s most comfortable shirts makes Eddie’s face warm. 

He turns back around, Steve already done changing and looking at him. Eddie smiles at him, 

“Well, good night, Stevie.” Eddie says, wiggling his fingers in a flirty way as he turns to leave the room. 

“Wait-” Steve says, grabbing onto Eddie’s bicep. 

“Can you…Can you stay in here?” Steve asks. He looks at Eddie despite his hesitation.

“Yeah. I’ll stay with you, Stevie.” Steve softens at Eddie’s affirmation. He doesn't let go of Eddie, but instead pulls him towards the bed. Steve pulls back the covers and slides in first, leaving a side open for Eddie. 

Eddie crawls in, grabbing the blankets and tucking them both in. He leaves a gap in between them. He wants to close the space, to cuddle with Steve and fall asleep wrapped around him. But he doesn’t. Instead he turns onto his side, the one facing away from Steve. It kills him, not being able to look at Steve; but he knows he won’t be able to go to sleep if he looks for any longer. 

“Good night, Stevie. Have sweet dreams, don’t let the bedbugs biteee” Eddie chants, teasing Steve while meaning every word. 

“You too, you dork,” Steve says. Eddie can hear the smile in Steve’s voice. Sleep soon starts taking over Eddie’s body. His eyes droop closed, his breath evens out, and he melts into Steve’s absolutely delightful bed. 

He can’t breathe. The bats are after him. His legs sting as he peddles faster. He needs to do this. He needs to draw the bats away from Dustin. He needs to go. He needs to stand up. 

He jumps off of the bike, throwing it to the ground. He swings back around and stabs at the bats with his spear. He tries holding up his shield, but there’s too many. They’re swarming him

. He falls to the ground. They bite into him. It hurts. They’re eating him. He can’t breathe. He’s going to die. He’s going to die. He can’t breathe. 

He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t- 

“Eddie!” Steve shakes him awake. His lungs hurt. He’s sweaty and panic is still stuck in his throat. His heart is beating too fast for his body, he’s going to die if it keeps going like that. He’s going to die- 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Steve says, still holding onto Eddie’s shoulders. His eyes shoot over to Steve’s. His heart is still beating too fast, he still can’t breathe. 

“Here-” Steve says. He moves his hand down Eddie’s arm and onto his hand. Steve grips his hand and pulls it up. He presses Eddie’s hand to his chest, right above his heart. 

“Feel that? It’s my heartbeat, we’re ok. Feel my chest, Eds. Follow my breathing,” Steve’s skin is warm under Eddie’s palm. Eddie focuses on the rise and fall of Steve’s chest. He tries matching his breathing to Steve’s. 

Inandout. Inandout. In and out. In…. and out. 

“There we go. Good job, baby. You’re doing amazing for me.” Eddie flushes at the pet name. He feels better now. He can breathe. He still feels taught, like a string pulled too tight. 

“You remember where we are? We’re in my room. You’re in my bed. It’s Friday, remember? We watched Labyrinth with Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle? We’re safe, it’s ok.” 

Right, right. It’s Friday. He’s in Steve’s room, in Steve’s clothes. He’s here because Steve asked him to stay. He remembers.

“Ok….I’m ok.” Eddie says after a minute. Steve moves his free hand up from Eddie’s shoulder and onto his face. He cradles Eddie’s face in his hand. His hand is rough from calluses. His thumb swipes away the tears on Eddie’s face. When did he start crying?

“You did so amazing, Eddie. You just had a nightmare, we’re ok.” Steve reaffirms. Eddie feels shame coil in his gut. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t wake you up, did I? I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, No. None of that. You don’t need to apologize, Eds.” Steve says softly, continuing to rub his thumb across Eddie’s face. 

“No, I do. I know sleeps hard and I took that away from you-” Eddie tries to say, but Steve cuts him off again. 

“Eddie, it’s ok. I know. I know what the nightmares are like, Eds. You went through so much, Baby. It’s ok to still be scared. I’m still scared too. You don’t need to apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.” Steve looks at Eddie with something so soft. It’s not demeaning, but genuine and light. Eddie wants to fight back, to convince Steve to let him apologize. But Steve makes him feel so safe. He can’t argue back, but he still can’t agree, either. 

“Hey, I know that look. You have to believe me, Eddie. Do you know how many times you’ve helped me after a nightmare? So many times, Eddie. So many times.” Steve smiles at him,

“You always tell me it’s not a hassle. That I’m not a hassle. You make me feel seen, Eddie. I see you too. I see you, Eds.” 

Eddie’s heart swirls. Steve sees him. Steve sees him for him. All the excitement and fun and liveliness of the day. All of the bad and pain and fear of the night. He sees Steve, and Steve sees him right back. Eddie nods this time; his walls have been tumbled down, Knocked over by Steve’s assurance.  

“I love you, Eddie.” Steve presses his forehead against Eddie’s. His hand’s still holding Eddie’s to his chest. Eddie can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong. Eddie can almost feel the love pumping through Steve. 

Eddie’s face breaks into a smile. Steve sees him and loves him despite it, Because of it. A warm flourish blooms through Eddie. A tear runs down his cheek for a different reason, now. 

“I love you too, Stevie.” Eddie says. The love they share is caught between them. The small space still there is filled with love. Eddie can’t deny it, he can only embrace it.  

Steve’s skin is warm against his, their hearts beat together, and they love each other. Eddie sees Steve, and Steve sees Eddie.    

[mrs-kodzuken]

Christmas Magic ♡

Pairing: Aged up!Kenma Kozume x fem!reader

WC: 1.6k

Genre: mostly fluff, marriage, sexual tension

CW: fem!reader, lots of sexual tension at the end, long haired!reader

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

I scrolled on my phone looking through a baking app, skimming across it for new recipes to try out. I wanted to bake something for Kenma and I even though it was only one in the morning.

Currently, I was sitting on the counter in our beautiful kitchen. The bar stools were always an obvious choice to sit in but alas I loved our granite counter. I screenshotted three recipes for three different types of cookies to try out.

Gingerbread sandwich cookies, Peppermint patty-stuffed chocolate cookies, and some DIY YouTube emoticon cookies, those were for Kenma.

Speaking of my husband, he had told me about thirty minutes earlier that he was going to stream live. Which is most likely what he was doing right now.

I looked through the ingredients on the list and quietly headed upstairs to the second floor. Even though Kenma was an entire floor above, in his gaming room, of our three story house, I still tried to be as quiet as possible.

I mean, it was one am after all. Time didn't really bother Kenma and I because of our schedules.

Entering our bedroom, I grabbed a measure of clothing. Hat, scarf, winter jacket, sweatpants, and warm socks. Grabbing my snow boots from the closet floor I headed back downstairs to the door.

I looked up at the snowy sky and took a deep breath in of the sharp icy air, which felt like needles poking my lungs. Winter is here and it's my favorite time of the year.

Smiling at the decorative lights flashing on our house that we put up a couple of weeks ago. I started my walk to the closest market, I didn't want to travel too far just for some cookie ingredients.

Some of them we didn't have either. Hopefully, they'd be open because I wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. And I needed something to busy me whilst my husband was streaming.

I headed in and heard the bell ding as the warm air from the small convenience store heated me up.

Immediately, I went to the baking and ingredients section. I tried to balance the objects in my arms while walking up to the front counter because I didn't think to grab a cart.

"Hello." I spoke to the cashier and carefully set my items down.

"Hi Mrs.Kozume, do you plan on making something this late?" The old lady had asked with a light laugh. The crinkles by her eyes creased and shown her age.

"Yes ma'am, I wanted to bake for my husband. He's working right now and probably won't be sleep for a couple more hours." I laughed with her.

Since I would always come here for plenty of household things, at any time of day or night, I knew most of all the workers.

"Ah, well I hope the two of you have a good night." She placed my ingredients in two plastic bags then held them out for me.

"You too. Thank you." I waved at her and opened the door, leaving as the cold air from the chill night surrounded me once again.

Not after hearing a mumble of 'such cute youngens.' I had quietly laughed to myself and continued my short walk home. Eager to bake and be in warmth again.

Passing all the colorful decorations of houses, I stared in awe. Small snow flurries had began to fall as well. Christmas is such a wonderful time, isn't it?

Finally coming close to a familiar decor, I quickly got inside. The coldness nipping at my nose and body as I shivered from it.

"Baby? Are you back?" I heard a deep voice fill the air as I took off my winter boots and continued to strip until I was in my regular house clothes.

"Yes hon, I went out to get some things." I answered my husband while hanging my big coat on the rack and leaving my snow boots by the door.

"Did you finish your streaming?" I questioned, tilting my head as he rounded the corner from the kitchen.

"Yeah, it was a short one." He muttered, his eyes focused on the bags in my hands.

I walked into the kitchen, setting them down on the counter before heading upstairs, kenma following my every move.

"What'd you get?"

"Just a few ingredients for baking." I opened our closet and picked out my pink Christmas pj's that Kenma bought me. They had small green Christmas trees on them and were very soft.

As well as reaching for some big fuzzy socks to warm up my cold feet.

I took off my house clothes and slipped that on, not bothering to cover up my body. It's not like Kenma hasn't seen any of this glorious body before.

I watched as Kenma's eyes trailed down my body and gawked at my every move.

"My love, do you wanna your Christmas jammie's on to match me?" I asked, silently begging so we could be cute together.

He came from behind me as I reached into the drawers to pull out his set. Ken hugged me from the back, his arms wrapping around my waist and his head on my shoulder.

"Sure baby, I'll be right down." Kissing the nape of my neck, I sighed peacefully and broke our hug.

Heading down, I waltzed kitchen, pulling my hair up and started with the basics.

I could basically feel his eyes staring at me while I started getting the bowls and utensils out as well as my ingredients I had bought.

"Yes, my love?" I turned around to face him, getting ready to start whisking the batter.

"Can I help?"

I smiled softly at him, my heart bursting into flames full of love. Especially since he looked so precious in his pajamas that matched mine.

"Of course you can, here." I gave him the batter I was just about to whisk and started on a new task.

"What kind of cookies are these." He sniffed the batter, his nose twitching.

"These are gingerbread sandwich cookies. I have two others that i wanted to bake too. I'm gonna start on the peppermint patty-stuffed chocolate ones." I gave him my phone that had all the instructions on how to bake the Gingerbread cookies.

He set the bowl down and his eyes skimmed down the phone to the last one. I saw a soft smile grace his handsome features.

"Can we make the last one next?"

"Sure, let me finish with this chocolate first and you put those in oven." I directed, happy that we were bonding.

Baking with Kenma was always nice, even if we stopped a few times here and there because he wanted to make out for some unknown reason.

"Are they done?" I asked him, peering back while he opened the oven. I cleaned the last couple of dishes that we used for baking.

"Yeah, but they're hot so be careful." He warned me as some of his two toned hair fell into his face. Ken put the cookies on a platter and set them on our granite counter, waiting for them to cool.

I grabbed my step stool and set it where I could fix his hair, as per usual. I, unfortunately, had to stand on my tippy toes from how short I am.

Lightly taking his hair out of the messy back bun I had put it in earlier, and changed it to a ponytail.

"Your hair is so soft and long baby." I gently racked my hands through his hair.

"Oh please, your hair goes down to your ass baby." He retorted as if I meant it as a bad thing.

"It's not a bad thing honey, most guys don't wear it long. It looks sexy on you." My face flushed and I stepped down, putting the step stool away to where it goes.

I didn't hear an answer from him as I made my way towards the cookies. They should be cool enough by now to eat.

Gently, I touched one before picking it up just to see if it would burn my hand or not.

Seeing as I could pick it up I turned to Kenma with it.

"Say ahh." I broke the cookie in half so I could feed it to him.

He stared down at me with watchful eyes and an eyebrow raised like I was dumb. Nevertheless he did as I asked.

"Good boy, does it taste good?" I could have sworn that he almost choked when I said that. I was just proud that the cookies we made came out looking so good.

"That's new. It's usually Daddy." He smirked, his cheeks flushing bit red, watching my expression.

My face burned a bright red because I knew what he was talking about. And it was, in fact, true.

"How does it taste?" My voice high pitched because of his response, I cleared my throat to fix it.

"Eh, you taste better."

I could have died right then and there.

"You're such a horny person, Kenma." I laughed at him, feeling the sexual tension in the air.

I thought this was supposed to be wholesome and yet here my erratic husband is, trying to be sexy.

"You're one to talk.." He trailed off, analyzing my face.

"Anyway! Do you want to watch home alone? I'll bring the cookies up while they're still warm?" I said getting a glass of milk for us to dip our cookies in.

"Sure baby," He kissed my jaw in the same place of where he had set a mark he made a couple nights ago.

I rolled my eyes at him. "I can't believe I married a horny tornado." I muttered and focused on the sweets in front of me.

Knowing damn well that later I would be getting some Christmas magic.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

a/n: this is from my “Haikyuu x Reader Oneshots” on Wattpad! I hoped you enjoyed and let me know if you want more!

the header is from lena!! on Pinterest

[we-are-inevitable]

Hi, Jac!! I am really enjoying reading "and the sun still sets the same" so far, and I would love to hear more about the frack au Jacobs siblings. Do Esther, Meyer, and Les live close to where the twins go to college? If not, what do they do to keep in touch (if they do keep in touch)? Does Les plan to go to college, and if so, what does he want to major in?

YESSSSS i adore them ugh. they are so so perf!!

so first things first, davey and sarah go to school about two and a half hours away from their family- close enough to go home if needed but far enough that they’re a little more independent.

davey has an INCREDIBLE relationship with his parents; he might be jaded and kind of prickly-looking, but he has evening yap sessions with esther nearly every day! he facetimes her while he cooks dinner, which just so happens to be when she’s cooking dinner as well, so he chats with her all the time. their dinner talks are something david tries hard not to miss!

i think sarah would definitely talk to esther a lot, too— maybe not as often as davey, but multiple times a week. i feel like that early morning talks while sarah’s on her morning run or just walking around campus would be their catch up time!

they both love mayer too obviously but he’s not a super big “use the phone” guy, so davey usually sees him in the background of facetimes (and he comes over to yap for about ten minutes or so) and sarah calls him on his lunch breaks at work!

their parents didn’t go to college, so davey and sarah are both first gen students, and esther and mayer can’t really afford to help that much but they do ALL they can. they don’t want their kids to struggle anymore than they have to.

they also both talk to les all the time. the jacobs fam is perfect in general but even MORE perfect in this au

les is around 12-14 in this fic (i havent decided yet) and he doesn’t really show up but i have thoughts. he’s the only straight Jacobs sibling, not that it matters bc he’s a middle schooler but it’s important to Me that you know that

les would be such a like….. sports marketing or business major. everyone thinks hes another frat bro douchebag because hes a straight guy business major but both of his siblings are queer and his parents didn’t raise a bitch

anyway i love them. im imagining esther and mayer being the two people that can make david smile and laugh like jack can and that’s a HUUUUGE thing that sarah notices when she first meets jack

esther thinks all of davey’s tattoos are so so cool and mayer was with him when he bought his first skirt. they completely support sarah’s love of fashion design and will even model for her if she has an idea for something they’d like. they are quite literally the best most supportive family on the planet

i could talk about them allllll day but alas, i will stop

[weemsfreak]

Full Circle - Won't You Come Out to Play?

Part 2

Larissa Weems x fReaderOC

Hello all, so I got a few requests for part 2 of Full Circle! I'm sorry it took so long, but I'm so glad that you liked the first part! There will be a part 3 (smut) but i'm going to tie it in with golf.

~6.8k words.

✂ Song: Dear Prudence by Siouxsie & The Banshees (linked at bottom)

If you need a refresh, pt 1 is here.

Warnings: A bit of misogyny, harassment, alcohol

Tags: @dopenightmaretyphoon @danverssawyer @dingdongthetail @notmeellaannyy @lvinhs @kimiinou @im-a-carnivorous-plant @barbarasstar @lostmyotheraccount @readingtheentrails

☾☾☾

The next couple weeks were far too busy for your liking. Your boss was calm and kind, but lately she had been busy and stressed, which meant that you were as well. You hadn't had time to venture to the golf course, even though you were missing it dearly.

Something else you were missing dearly, was your father. The anniversary of his death was coming up next week, and you'd be lying if you said that you weren't in a rut.

Sunday, you sat on your couch, soothing your pains with a tub of chocolate ice cream. It was a gorgeous day outside, but nothing you could dream of had the ability to your ass up and moving.

As you sat and wallowed in your self pity, a text lit up your phone. You ignored it at first, until you glanced down and saw who it was from.

Larissa (from golf)

How are you, darling? I haven't seen you in awhile :(

You opened your phone and smiled down at the text. Someone else that you were missing dearly, was Larissa. Since you last golfed with her, you have been slowly coming to the realization that you adored the tall woman. The parts of her that she showed you, and the little that you did know about her, had you thinking about her often, and becoming increasingly enamoured with her.

She was truly gorgeous, inside and out. She was smart, funny, caring, soft, selfless, and just absolutely ravishing. The thought of her had you kicking your feet and blushing. You felt so safe and calm in her presence, she brightened your day whenever you saw her. She was one of a kind, truly.

You have been thinking about what Glen and Tom said, 'She likes women, and she's single.' As giddy as that made you, for some reason, you couldn’t help but question why she was single. Why was a woman, a woman like her, single? Had the gods put this glorious woman loving woman in front of you just to spite you? Just to make you crazy? Perhaps she was crazy? Unattainable? Well, she had twenty years on you, which didn't bother you, but maybe it would bother her.

Yes, that's what she was, unattainable. She was lovely, and as you said, one of a kind. There was nobody else like her, nobody else in her damn league.

You

Hi Larissa! I'm fine, how are you? I've been busy with work, but I hope that you've been at the course enjoying yourself :)

Larissa (from golf)

I've been out with Tom and Glen a few times, it has been fun. It's not as enjoyable without you there, though ;)

You held back a giddy laugh, what a flirt.

You

I miss it :(

Larissa (from golf)

Won't you come out to play next week, Prudence? :)

You

Of course! What day are you free?

Larissa (from golf) <3

Saturday at 5?

You sighed, Saturday was the anniversary of your fathers death.

Alas, what better thing to do on that day besides golf?

You

I can't wait! See you then :)

Larissa (from golf) <3

Take care, darling!

☾☾☾

4-

Saturday had been harder for you than you had anticipated, which was why you found yourself late for golf. You pulled up to the golf course, basically running to the first hole, and found Larissa waiting patiently, wiping down her clubs as she basked in the sun. You trained your eyes on her as you slowed your pace and walked up behind her.

 She truly looked angelic, her light blonde hair becoming gold in the sun, and her figure outlined in a soft glow. You stopped and let yourself breathe for a moment, taking in the sight before you and committing it to memory.

Damn, Glen was right, you did have a crush. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that you were downplaying it.

"There you are, love" Larissa smiled, turning around when she felt a presence behind her. She was wearing a light yellow striped polo and a white golf skirt. You had to stop yourself from gasping when your brain registered the image before you.

"Sorry I'm late Larissa. I really have no excuse" you chuckled.

Larissa shook her head and batted her lashes at you, "No worries Prudence, I was just enjoying the sun."

 When you got to hole 5, you were setting up to drive, gauging your swing. It had been a peaceful day so far, you and Larissa had been chatting and taking your time.

You heard a golf cart pull up on the path next to you, and you stopped what you were doing. To your total annoyance, the younger man who had served you the other day, and also made rude comments about Larissa, got out of his cart and walked your way. You heard Larissa mutter 'fuck' under her breath.

"Larissa, you're looking fine, as always" he said with a cocky smile.

"Jake, why are you here?" Larissa's eyebrows quirked up in question, an unamused frown on her face.

Jake gestured to another young man behind him, "Why, Brad and I just wanted some playing time with you ladies." He then gazed past Larissa, and set his eyes on you, looking you up and down.

"I haven't seen this one around before, she any good?" he asked Larissa.

"She is, very good. But I would appreciate it if you would leave us to play by ourselves" Larissa basically spat.

"You want her all to yourself huh?" Brad chimed in.

"I can see why, she's hot" Jake said, chucking and nodding to Brad.

You took a deep breath as you looked to the grass. You didn’t want to do this, ever, but definitely not today.

"I'll make you a deal woman" Jake said, gesturing to you. "Let’s play together. If you beat me on this hole, I'll leave you both alone today; but if I beat you, you have to go on a date with Brad."

Your face fell to one of disgust at his words. And why would you want to go on a date with this pretentious, ugly, lowlife man? Was there a reason anyone would want that?

Larissa was shocked at his bet, and she turned your way to gauge your vibe. You were standing there, leaning against your driver, face scrunched up, repulsed. It brought a little relief to Larissa, knowing that you were in fact, not interested in this cocky man, and that you'd rather stay with her.

She turned back to the boys, her fists tightened beside her body in anger.

"She will be doing no such thing." You let a small smile form on your lips.

"Fine, then I bet you, Larissa. And when I win, you have to go on a date with me."

You let out a loud scoff as Jake's lips curled up into a smirk. You then stepped away from the tee and stood closer to Larissa. You watched as her eyes widened, she would be doing no such thing, no such childish thing.

"I will not be-" "I accept your bet, Jake" you said, interrupting Larissa. Larissa looked down at you, eyebrows set in confusion as she took you in.

"Except when I win, you leave Larissa alone, for good" you stated, indefinitely. Jake chuckled and shook his head, "Fine, deal."

"Ladies before gentlemen" you said, gesturing for him to step up to the tee first. He frowned at you, but pulled his driver and made his way up. You heard Larissa giggle behind you, then you felt butterflies in your stomach over the sound. You didn't want to do this, but if you were going to, you were going to do it right.

As Jake set his tee in the ground as you took the time to plan your hits. It just so happened that you were exceptionally good at this hole. You paid no mind when Jake drove the ball, as it didn't matter anyway. You then set up and drove your pro v1, sending it the same place that Jake's ball had landed.

"Well, let's go" Jake said, hurrying Brad into the cart. You looked up at Larissa and ushered her into the cart, following close behind them. It wouldn't be easy to cheat at golf, but you didn't trust these boys, not for a second.

As you drove down the fairway, Jake stopped at his ball. You didn't know exactly where yours had gone, but it was around this area.

"Here!" Larissa said, pointing to the pro v1 in the grass. You let out a menacing laugh, it had traveled further than Jake's.

You watched as Jake pulled a wedge, and shot his ball to the green. You did the same, sending your pro v1 to the green, and hiding your smirk as you did. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves, you really wanted to impress the older woman. But you were lucky, this was going surprisingly well.

As you played, Jake and Brad murmured comments to each other, some of which you caught.  Sometimes Jake would say sexist things to your face, and every time you would tell him to shut up, or Larissa would spit back at him, but it honestly fueled you to do better.

As you ventured back to the cart to grab your putter, you felt Larissa's hands at your shoulders. She leaned down to your ear from behind, whispering in a way that made you hold back a shiver. "You're doing exceptional darling, show them who's boss."

Her praise was enough for you to end up with a birdie and amusedly watch Jake struggle to sink his ball on par. You watched as Jake threw his club to the ground and cursed, to which you threw your hands in the air and ran over to Larissa.

"Hell yea!" you hollered, jumping up and high fiving her with both hands.

"Great job darling! I knew you could do it, I'm so proud" Larissa said, wrapping her fingers around yours. You blushed as you held her hands, "Well, at least he'll leave you alone now."

You heard Jake and Brad talking loudly behind you, and didn't hesitate to turn and walk up to them. Larissa couldn't hear your conversation from where she was, but she watched as you pressed a finger to Jakes chest, your jaw clenched in anger. Your gaze bore into Jake's eyes, relentlessly speaking.

"If I ever see you talk to Larissa or glance at her inappropriately again, I swear to god I will haunt you forever." And that was that.

You sighed as you finished the last hole on the course and sat in the golf cart. Larissa could see plain as day that you were tired, worn out perhaps, and she placed a hand on the small of your back.

"What's got you down, darling? Tired?" she asked sincerely. You nodded your head, averting her gaze, until you felt a tear trickle down your cheek. Larissa leaned over and wiped it away gently, you turned as your gaze met hers. She looked down at you with worry, her blues silently asking if you were okay.

"It's the anniversary of my fathers death" you murmured.

Her shoulders dropped, "Oh Prudence I'm sorry darling, I didn't know."

You shook your head and looked down at your hands, "No it's okay. I figured there was nothing better for me to do today than golf."

You took a deep breath and looked back up at her, your lower lip wobbling.

"Being with you makes me feel better" you whispered.

Larissa pouted, her arms wrapping around you and pulling you close. You laid your head on her shoulder, the warmth of her body bringing you a sense of peace.

"You did so well today, showing up those immature boys. I know what we should do" Larissa whispered.

You pulled back and tilted your head in question, "What?"

The woman smiled as she stepped on the gas, "We should buy you a new driver!"

Larissa took you to the shop, and you slowly made your way around. There were a few drivers that caught your eye, but there was one in particular that would match your set perfectly. You walked up and checked the price, letting out a hum in thought.

Well, that was an issue. It was very pricey, even though it was on sale.

Larissa watched you ponder over it, then walked to you with a toothy smile.

"This one is nice Prudence, it matches your set perfectly."

You nodded, setting it back on the rack. "It is, it's just a bit pricey."

You walked around some more, pondering the other drivers before settling against the wall and checking your phone. You watched Larissa as she looked through the irons, and you took the time to stealthily check your bank account.

After a couple minutes, you decided that you could afford it, barely. You sighed, walking over to the driver and picking it up.

Larissa had watched you check your phone out of the corner of her eye, she knew what you were doing. She decided in that moment that she wanted to make you feel better, to give you a little joy on this rather depressing day.

"Are you happy with this one?" she asked, taking it from you to look it over.

"Yeah, I guess I'll get it. I really need a new one."

Larissa nodded, handing it back to you. You took it to the counter and gave it to the man, digging for your card.

"$600" the man said, and you almost threw up.

"One sec, I'm just looking for my card" you replied, digging through your bag in a rush.

Larissa took this opportunity and walked up to the counter, then you heard a beep. You stopped your rummaging and turned to her, wide eyed.

"Do you want your receipt?" the man asked. "Yes, please" Larissa replied.

She then took your driver from the man and held it out to you.

"L-Larissa?" you stuttered, not believing for a second what you had just witnessed. Larissa smiled and grabbed your hand as she drug you outside, basically shoving the driver into your hands so that you would take it.

"Why, what, why did you pay for this? I-I can't take this!" you said loudly, beginning to panic. Larissa placed her hands on your shoulders and bent down to your level.

"Shh darling, it's alright. I wanted to do something for you. I want you to know that you deserve to be treated well Prudence, and I want to see you happy."

You took deep breaths, getting lost in her deep blues as you listened to her soft gentle voice. "That's-it's so much money though. I don't want you to spend that on me" you whispered, lip quivering. Larissa smiled and pulled you to her.

She mumbled into your hair, "You're worth it darling. Don't worry about the money, because I'm not worried about it."

You almost laughed, you couldn't help but think that only a rich person would say something like that. Your breathing settled as you focused on her heartbeat against yours. Tears gathered in your eyes over this rather emotional day, and you buried your head into her chest and held her tighter. "Thank you, Larissa."

☾☾☾

You were practicing your putting skills with a friend after work. Mark was very good at his job, and he had helped you out with many things since you started. He had just gotten into golf, so in turn you offered to teach him a few things.

Larissa made her way to the entrance of the clubhouse, doing a double take when she spotted you. Her heartbeat picked up, you weren't hard to notice, your distinct look and beauty made you easy for her to spot. She tilted her head in question as she watched you converse with a man, helping him out by adjusting his arms and putter.

Larissa obviously knew how to putt, but in that moment she wished that she didn't. She wished that she needed help with something just like that.

She watched as the man took his try at putting, then he leaned in close to you and whispered in your ear. Larissa's eyebrows furrowed as she took in the scene before her, and she felt herself become a bit defensive. She didn't really know why, but she felt a little, bothered? She wanted to march over to you and interrupt, push herself in between the two of you.

Perhaps she was jealous?

"Do you have the things?" Mark whispered to you, hoping nobody would hear. You tried your best not to let out a laugh, he was being so secretive about something so normal. You reached into your jacket pocket and handed him a brown paper bag that contained condoms. Mark was a sweet and quiet man, and he and his girlfriend were not very outgoing souls. He asked you recently if you'd get him some condoms, as he was too nervous to buy them in public. You were glad that he felt comfortable with you, and you understood where he was coming from, you didn't mind helping a friend out.

Larissa headed towards the washroom, her legs taking her there without question. That man didn't seem like a threat, well, why would he be anyway? It was alright if you liked men, it was alright if you were with someone. She wasn't with you, she really didn't even know you that well. Yet, she couldn't help but be bothered by it.

She quickly shifted into the form of a middle aged man in light golf attire and exited the washroom, making her way to the putting green. When she got to the green she pulled out her putter and eyed you as you were practicing your technique.

The man was gone, hopefully, and you were rather focused on your ball. Larissa's eyes raked over your form, from your determined expression, to your outfit, to your shoes, to your club, to... she looked down at the green and caught something gold on the ground. Was that…a condom?

'Alright, a little more to the left, don’t hit it so hard' you thought to yourself.

"Hi there" a tall man greeted, smiling down at you. You tilted your head in surprise as you looked up at him. He spoke with a British accent, had very light hair, wore pristine attire, and looked rather...well you'd say it, prude.

"Hi" you replied, offering a light smile. As you took him in, you noticed his blue eyes and pale skin, and you couldn't help but think that he'd be perfect for Larissa, if she were into men. You quickly clenched your fist at the thought. Thinking of Larissa with someone else, a man especially, made you bothered, outraged.

Perhaps you were jealous?

"Drop something there, darling?" the man asked, gesturing to the ground. You gazed down as you followed his line of sight, and your eyes landed on a gold wrapper. You pursed your lips in embarrassment as you realized that you had dropped a condom.

"Oh, uh, that's not mine" you lied. The man walked closer to you, bending down and picking it up almost right under your feet.

"Not yours?" he asked, holding it in his hand. You stared at it for a second, feeling embarrassed by the situation. It just felt weird, dropping this, of all things, at a golf course and a man, of all people, finding it.

You shook your head, "Nope" you said, popping the p when you did. The man shrugged and shoved it into his pocket, nodding and bidding you a good day.

Larissa knew that was a weird encounter, and that it would leave you confused. She couldn't help it, though, why did you have a condom? It had to be yours, it was under your feet, and you were the only one on the putting green. You looked really, really embarrassed, even guilty when she had asked about it. There was nothing wrong with having condoms, obviously, but she couldn't help but wonder why you had them. You were far too sweet, to pure to be in the hands of a man. She could take care of you better than any man could, in many ways.

There were hints that she had gotten from you that made her think you may fancy her, but she has been fooled before. She hoped that you were not messing around with men, and she really hoped that you were into women, into her.

☾☾☾

5-

Today you were out with Tom, Glen, and Larissa, and you had no bad feelings about a certain slimy dude slithering around. On top of that, you were really excited to use your new driver. Larissa warned the elder men that she may be late, so Tom and Glen decided to start without her.

"Nice driver you got there" Tom said, admiring the driver in your hands.

"You save up fast, huh?" he added with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at him, you knew by the look on his face that he was messing with you, these old men seemed to know everything.

At the second hole, you watched Glen tee off. You always took note of his technique, as his drives were the best you've seen. Well, besides Larissa's, of course. You suddenly felt long fingers lay themselves gently over your eyes from behind, and you let out a yelp in surprise. You got a whiff of rose and frankincense as a smooth accent filled your ears. "Who is it?" Larissa asked, murmuring against your hair.

You couldn't help but smile wide as instant happiness flowed through you.

"Larissa!" you beamed, turning around and gazing lovingly at the tall woman. Your smile got bigger, if that was even possible, when you saw her toothy grin looking down at you with joy.

She adorned a white sleeveless dress, and her light aesthetic, including her creamy skin, made you feel a bit insignificant, insecure. She was the sun, her smile and warm personality lighting up your day with ease. She was the embodiment of life, she was vital to get you through the day, everyday.

And you were, well, perhaps the darkness, perhaps death. Your aesthetic was dark, your thoughts were even darker, and you did not shine in the way that she did.

You thought for a moment that maybe you two needed each other, like the sun and the moon, to balance out. That thought quickly faded though, as you were not the moon. The moon was far too bright, far too intelligent, and absolutely nothing would, or should, change her in anyway, dull her light in the slightest.

Tom chuckled, "Oh, so now Rudy smiles." Larissa's brows furrowed as she turned her attention to Tom, "What? Who?" she asked confused.

"You wouldn't have anything to do with Rudy's new driver there, would you Riss?" Glen asked, changing the topic.

"I don't know what you're talking about" Larissa replied, pulling out her 3 wood. Glen looked to Tom and laughed amusedly, making his way over to you. He leaned in and winked, "Good going girl, got her spending money on ya already."

As the day progressed, you came to realize that your old driver was in fact, holding you back. You were an excellent player, and you knew that, but this driver gave you that extra push you needed to travel yards further.

"I'm surprised Jake isn't up Rissa's ass. I haven't seen him around lately, have you?" Tom asked Glen. "No, I haven't seen him" Glen answered, a smile pulling at his lips. Larissa chuckled and looked at the old men in wonder, "What are you two up to?"

Tom raised a brow, "I was just wondering what happened to him, he seemed to be all over you." You furrowed your brows at the men, the way they were talking was obviously sarcastic, and you couldn't help but think that they were hiding something.

"Last I heard little miss here challenged him for Larissa" Glen said, smirking your way. You blushed. "Last I heard he got fired" Tom added. Your eyes went wide, fired? Had you gotten him fired? No, no, he had've gotten himself fired.

"What?" Larissa asked, her mouth opening in surprise. The old men laughed. She narrowed her eyes at them, "Did you two have anything to do with it?!"

The old men looked at each other, "No, no. Wasn't us" Tom said, putting his hands up in surrender. "We would never" Glen added, winking at the woman.

You stepped on the gas of the golf cart, driving Larissa to her car after 14 holes. She had meetings with the board today, which was her reason for being late, and why she had to leave early. You were thankful that she came out today at all, considering how busy her day seemed to be. Yet, you couldn't help but be disappointed at her leaving.

You drove down the path to the parking lot, going full speed. You didn't speak, as your dark thoughts were, for some reason, taking over. You felt suddenly tired and frustrated, like you didn't have the energy to finish the game, not without her.

A rabbit caught you off guard as it fled the line of trees on the right side of the road and ran in front of your cart. You swerved in an attempt to not hurt the animal, almost falling off of the path as you did. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Larissa squealed and gripped the handle of the cart, as your quick turn almost sent her flying out.

"Shit Riss!" you screamed, reaching out and grabbing her by the arm to pull her back in. You set the cart straight once more, and finally reached the parking lot. When you stopped, your heart beat fast, you realized that you were holding onto Larissa like she was your lifeline.

Larissa looked at you with a shocked expression before she burst into laughter. You watched as she threw her head back as a loud laugh racked through her body, her hand coming to squeeze yours.

Her laughter was contagious, despite your depressing and frightened mood, you laughed with her. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes as you were feeling a myriad of emotions. You could never live with yourself if you had hurt this gift of a woman.

"Darling, that was almost the end of me" she giggled, eyes closed as she tried to compose herself. Tears fell slowly from your eyes as you thought about it. You knew that she was joking, but the possibility of hurting this precious woman wrapped your insides in thick rope and forced them out of your throat. You felt like you may throw up.

"Prudence, what's wrong?" she asked, leaning closer to you with a new found serious expression. You wiped at your eyes and chuckled, "Nothing Riss, I'm really sorry" you murmured. Larissa caught your lousy attempt to hide your tears, and she pulled you tight against her.

"That was fun darling, let’s do it again."

You looked up at her, your eyes glimmering with tears and apologies. "Really?" you whispered.

"Of course, love. Would you be up for night golf? On Friday?"

You smiled, night golf sounded fun, you haven't done that in a long while. "Yes, please."

You drove back to meet Tom and Glen at hole 15, digging out your hybrid. You were quiet for awhile, and Glen and Tom took note of that.

"She likes you, you know" Glen said, walking your way with Tom following behind. You shook your head in disbelief. "No, she doesn't" you chuckled sadly.

"She does Rudy, she told us" Tom admitted. You gazed up at the older men in surprise, but said nothing.

"Did she invite you to night golf?" Glen asked.

"Yeah, she did" you nodded.

Tom smiled, "She wants to get to know you better. She said something about you making her feel younger, making her feel special. I suppose she likes playing with you for the same reason that we like playing with her, but different."

You sniffled as you thought about it, maybe they were right, maybe they weren't always pests.

"I like her, a lot" you mumbled. The older men smiled at each other before Glen placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Okay, here's what you're going to do."

☾☾☾

On Thursday, you found yourself at the mall. You wanted, no needed, a wardrobe update. You often wore pants to golf, but Larissa had inspired you to branch out. You tried on a few golf dresses and skirts, finding enough confidence to buy a black sleeveless dress and a red skirt. You always thought that Larissa looked delectable in her outfits, and you wanted to keep up with her.

Glen and Tom actually gave you some good advice, planning something that you thought would be rather successful, if you could stick to it.

Some days, you were not confident in yourself. You have always been this way, but you worked through it.

Larissa however, was always perfect. Her non judgemental and caring personality made you feel safe under her gaze, but you couldn't help but think that she was too beautiful for someone such as yourself.

When you got home, you couldn't help but feel giddy as you downed some red wine, excited to see Larissa tomorrow night. You tried on your white polo with your red skirt, and decided that it was as close as you'd get to Larissa.

As close as you'd get to being the light, the goddess, the life that she embodied.

For she was the sun, and you revolved around her.

☾☾☾

6-

As the night began to fall dark, you scanned the outside of the clubhouse. You needed a drink (or two) for courage, as you went over Glen and Tom's plan in your head.

It was simple, make a bet with Larissa, win. Make a bet with Larissa, win. Make a bet with Larissa, wi- "Good evening, love."

You whipped your head around to find Larissa marvelling down at you. She was wearing a sage green golf dress, and she looked absolutely exquisite.

"Hi Riss!" you beamed, your heart beat picking up rapidly.

"Are you ready to play, Pru?" She looked down at your drink and side smirked, "Or do you want to have a drink first?"

You nodded as you scootched over a seat and gestured for her to sit. The waiter brought her a glass of red and she held it out to you as her other hand landed softly on your thigh.

"To the end of the summer" Larissa smiled.

You clicked your glass to hers, "To the end of the summer."

The night was beautiful. Many stars were out, shining in the vastness of space and displaying their infinite beauty. The course felt different in the dark, but you liked different. The artificial lights lit up the night peacefully, and you were excited. Nervous, giddy, scared, and excited. There weren't a lot of people playing tonight, and for that you were grateful.

As you and Larissa started hole three, you put the plan into action. You knew that if you waited any longer, you would wait until the game was over. Yes, you were a master of procrastination.

"Hey Riss?" you asked, fidgeting with your hands as you stared from behind. She was setting up to tee off, but the timidness in your voice made her turn around. She walked closer, not stopping until she was directly in front of you.

"Yes, darling?" You tried so hard to hide your smile, your enamour, your nervousness, your feelings, but as you looked up at her, you were almost positive that the truth was written in your eyes.

"Do you want to make a bet?"

You watched as Larissa's eyebrows raised, but her smile never faltered.

"What kind of bet?"

You instantly blushed, looking down at the grass and composing yourself. You looked back up at her, some confidence finding you as you replayed Glen and Tom's words in your head. 'She likes you, you know.' 'She does Rudy, she told us.'

"We will keep score from now until the last hole. If you beat me, well, you can choose whatever you want, but if I beat you.." You took a breath, "If I beat you, I get to kiss you."

Larissa's eyes widened, as did her smile, before she put on a façade, tilting her head to show that she was pondering accepting or denying.

"I suppose I'm down with that, but I'm not telling you what I want until I win" she winked.

You smirked and nodded as relief washed over you, "Fair."

You put your everything into the game. You truly did your best, praying and even manifesting, which you had never tried before, that you'd get to kiss this absolute goddess.

Larissa however, also played her best, which was slightly better than yours. She found it adorable that you had thought of this bet and had the confidence to carry it out, all because you wanted to kiss her. She was proud of you, she was happy, actually she wanted to scream with joy.

You, a beautiful and kind young woman that she admired, that she adored, that she was infatuated with, wanted to kiss her, an old and fragile woman.

Yet, she had a plan of her own, and it didn't involve you winning.

As the game went on, your instincts told you every now and then that someone was watching you. Larissa felt the same, she knew that you were staring her down as well. She blushed and shook her head discreetly, hoping you wouldn't catch her infatuation. She knew that you couldn't take your eyes off of her, just as she couldn't take hers off of you.

When you got to hole 6, you took a washroom break. Larissa was nowhere to be seen when you returned. You looked around as you pulled your driver, and found that you were all alone.

"Riss?" The dark frightened you. You always felt like something, or someone, was going to come out of the woods for you. You placed your tee in the ground while searching nervously for Larissa, perhaps she also went to the washroom. You realized that her clubs were set close to yours, so she couldn't be far.

You shrugged as you lined up your driver, ready to send this bad boy flying and win the bet. Just as you took a practice swing, you heard rustling in the woods. You froze, staring wide eyed into the darkness. Where was this woman? Being alone was starting to creep you out. You shook away your freight, and slowly walked closer to the line of trees.

You stared into nothingness for a moment, finding nothing and hearing the same. You hummed questioningly and turned away, planning on ignoring whatever you had heard, but as you turned and took a step, you felt arms wrap around you and pull you into the bushes.

You screamed as you fell onto your ass, grunting when you landed. You then heard laughter, menacing laughter. No, it wasn't menacing, it was charming.

"Darling, are you quite alright?" she asked through giggles. You turned quickly, meeting Larissa's entertained gaze. "Larissa!" you squealed, swatting at her as you threw yourself into the woman. You pushed her playfully onto her back, hovering over her as she chuckled.

You giggled at her antics, "What the fuck!"

Larissa cupped your face in her hands as she looked up at you. She winked, "I got you."

You were pulled away from your putting when Larissa cooed "You look absolutely ravishing in that outfit, darling." Your jaw dropped as you stared down at the green, a harsh blush appearing on your face. You chuckled nervously, "Uh, thank you Riss. I thought I would expand my wardrobe."

Larissa crept closer to you, close enough to brush her fingers across your waist.

"Very good choice" she whispered. You quickly turned around to face the tall woman, she was closer than you had expected.

You narrowed your eyes at her, "Are you trying to throw me off?"

Larissa smirked and leaned in closer, "I don't have to throw you off in order to win, love."

You swallowed hard, your breathing becoming ragged. This woman knew how to flirt, and damn did she get you going.

At hole 9, you were almost shaking with anticipation. Oh god, why did you think this was a good idea?! You wanted to win, but you also didn't. Alas, you had no choice in the matter as Larissa was a few strokes ahead of you, and you knew that there was slim chance you could win now.

You focused on the game, not saying a word as you acted unbothered by Larissa's soon to be victory. You watched in disappointment as she sunk the ball, and you followed. At this later hour, the night was black, only artificial light allowing you vision.

Defeated, you sighed as you placed your clubs into your bag and sat in the passenger seat of the cart. Larissa didn't allow you to sit for long, however, as she pulled you gently up and placed her hands on your waist.

"This was so fun Prudence, it's always delightful playing with you."

Larissa spoke quietly, and with a sincere expression that made you weak in the knees. You had hugged this woman a few times before, but the feeling of her warm hands on your waist and her face so close to yours made you quiver. She was a vision, half of her lit up in an orange yellow glow, and the rest, darkness.

You smiled, placing your hands on her arms, "It's always a pleasure, Larissa."

You were never the best at picking up on vibes. Yet, the way that Larissa was holding you and gazing down at you, along with the elder men's confirmation, gave you enough confidence to take a chance. You wanted to take it back as soon as you whispered it, but it felt like a reflex, it felt right.

"I like you a lot, Larissa." Larissa's eyes widened as she gazed down at you. She wasn't surprised at what you had admitted, but she was surprised that you actually admitted it.

Actually scratch that, she was surprised. She had hoped and prayed that you had feelings for her, but she never let herself believe that you could, until she heard the words come out of your mouth.

You held your breath as she smiled wide, scrunching her nose up as her eyes crinkled. You swear you'd never get tired of seeing her smile like that.

Larissa quickly pulled you closer to her, your face ending up in the crook of her neck. You breathed in deeply, your heart settling at the smell of her skin.

"I like you a lot too, Prudence."

Your face lit up with joy immediately. You were elated, surprised that she would admit it. Or perhaps you didn't believe that she could like you back, not until you heard it from her velvet voice.

Happy tears slowly gathered in your eyes as you spoke. "I-I really like you Riss. You're absolutely gorgeous, you're funny, you're a joy to be around, your smile lights up my day." You pulled back slightly, cupping her cheek. "I just want to squeeze your cute face every time I see you" you chuckled.

You then frowned as tears threatened to spill. "I can't help but think that you're too good for me, though, too good for anyone. I mean, I don't have a great job, I don't know what I want, some days I can't get out of bed, I'm anxious, I'm insecure, I'm-" Larissa cut you off before you could say anything further with a soft kiss. You shivered as your nose brushed against hers, and then you felt her warm lips on your own. You hummed as you revelled in the feeling, hands wrapping around her neck to pull her closer.

Larissa pulled away slowly, her lips now just unreachable.

"Don't put yourself down, darling. I'm not too good for you. I won the bet, and that's what I wanted. This is what I want" she whispered.

You blushed profusely, hiding your face in the woman's neck as you smiled.

"Thank you Rissa" you murmured, kissing her neck lightly.

Larissa took in a shuddering breath at the contact, she didn't want to let you go.

"Would you like to come back to my place, darling?"

As you two walked off of the course hand in hand, you couldn't help but admire her. You felt so nervous that you could pass out, but her presence brought you all the peace. As you marvelled up at the woman in the dark, you realized something.

She was the sun, you were the moon, and you couldn't help but think that the she belonged with the darkness.

☾☾☾