#but feel free to extend on the idea with credit or mention

[player-1]

Just wanted to jump in to let everyone know about the progress on Better Leave the Light On (and that I didn't leave the blog dead in the water) since I’ve been delayed on it due to medical reasons. Besides leaving ch. 2 on a cliffhanger, it’ll be more of a slower paced intermission (rightfully called Intermission) and through the Immortal Citadel before getting into the New Ignitia and Drake Isles arcs in Ch. 4: Silver.

Other than that, I just had a cute idea for a little Byeol design (somewhat following @anacharafan‘s original art prompt on different animal designs for Metta cause you know…He does count as more of a shapeshifter than his siblings, right?); mostly to help me get my motivation running back on track, since there’s going to be a lot to cover during/after Luke gets his Silver badge in chapter 4...But don't ask for any art prompts on my end, I just did my own take on Birdhism cause they're cute 😅.

Anyway I present to you: Parakeet/Budgie Byeol. Do with the meme potential as you will both appearance and personality-wise, but I’m all for Byeol being a tiny chatterbox with everyone he likes (or pesters) and loves flying around the world for adventure. Also he’s super tiny compared to the other Tyrants in-game, so why not make him a bird? Other than that, have a good morning/night and will hopefully get chapter 3 up sooner than later.

[endereies]

KAY'S NO NUT NOVEMBER!

༊*·˚ Hey angels, No Nut November has officially begun. Similarly to October, I'm going to be writing little blurbs daily. These, however, won't have any smut. I feel that sometimes smut can take over this fandom at times so I am joining in with this months event! These are likely to be small blurbs since I will be attempting to post these daily. If anyone gets inspired by these blurbs, feel free to use the ideas, with credit of course. Feel free to send in cutesy or angsty requests too! I'm open to fucking anything. If you want me to continue a certain blurb or extend it just let me know!

NOVEMBER 1ST - Book Club -➤ You and Matt waltz around a local book shop, but Matt isn't looking at the books

NOVEMBER 2ND - Miss You -➤ Even after a break-up, thoughts of you play on Chris' mind

NOVEMBER 3RD - Just Need You -➤ After a long day, Chris goes to you for comfort

NOVEMBER 4TH - Ice Bound -➤ When you treat Matt to a day of skating, he ends up teaching you the ropes

NOVEMBER 5TH - Thought you were mine -➤ When Chris was finally ready for a relationship with you, it was too late

NOVEMBER 6TH - Soaked Through -➤ Matt finds you outside, watching the rain and he decides to have fun with you

NOVEMBER 7TH - Feel Better Yet? -➤ When you are on your period, Matt is always there to look after you

NOVEMBER 8TH - Birthday Wishes -➤ You may have forgotten your birthday, but Chris didn't

NOVEMBER 9TH - Movie Night -➤ You and Chris relaxing and watching a film together

NOVEMBER 10TH - Freedom Of Speech -➤ When Matt sees you with someone else, he couldn't help but admit how he feels

NOVEMBER 11TH - nothing here...

NOVEMBER 12TH - Freedom Of Speech - Part 2 -➤ When Matt sees you with someone else, he couldn't help but admit how he feels which results in you to do the same

NOVEMBER 13TH - Nail Polish -➤ You come home to see your daughter painting Matt's nails

NOVEMBER 14TH - Patch Up -➤ Chris comes home after a bad deal and you take care of him

NOVEMBER 15TH - nothing yet...

NOVEMBER 16TH - Break Up Drug -➤ Matt has to choose between his income and 'family' or the love of his life

NOVEMBER 17TH - You're My Prize -➤ Matt brings you to the carnival and wins just for you

NOVEMBER 18TH - Decorative Love -➤ You and Matt decorate each other as cookies

NOVEMBER 19TH - Hair tie -➤ Matt learns how to braid his daughters hair

NOVEMBER 20TH - Study Session -➤ Chris helps you take your mind away from studies

NOVEMBER 21ST - Snowball Fight -➤ You and Matt mess about in the snow

NOVEMBER 22ND - Take A Sick Day -➤ Chris looks after you when you are sick

NOVEMBER 23RD - Break Up Drug - Part 2 -➤ When you stay over at the triplet's house, you confront Matt

NOVEMBER 24TH - A Touch I Can Touch -➤ A painting brings some old memories to light when you and Matt visit the museum (sexual assault mentions - tw)

NOVEMBER 25TH - nothing yet...

NOVEMBER 26TH - nothing yet...

NOVEMBER 27TH - nothing yet...

NOVEMBER 28TH - nothing yet...

NOVEMBER 29TH - nothing yet...

NOVEMBER 30TH - nothing yet...

[dckweed]

Sooo glad you posted a second part of the Jakex best friend baby story. A huuuge hug for you =) so in a matter of fact I squealed a bit as I read that you're accepting requests for this story. So I would have an idea, maybe you like it, if not I'm still going to read EVERYTHING you write =)

I'm thinking of reader is feeling off for days, like feeling dizzy and stressed out. The nausea is also taking a toll on her. One evening at the Hard Deck with the whole squad a woman is approaching Jake... Unfortunately it's his ex girlfriend. She immediately flirts with him and making the reader really uncomfortable. Jake tries to get rid of his bitchy ex by showing off reader and introducing her to his ex. She's already sporting a small bump, which his ex notices. Later reader goes to the bathroom, not feeling so hot, but Jake's ex follows her and corners her at the bathroom insulting reader for being a slut, being pregnant and stealing Jake, absolutely stressing the pregnant woman out. After her harassment she leaves the bathroom leaving reader alone. The whole situation worsens her feeling sick and she collapses in one of the stalls.

Just need some huuuge whump and Jake and the Daggers being protective. Maybe you can use some of my ideas.

P.S.: it's so brave that you share your personal story here with us. You're a strong young woman. I belive in you!

hiii thank you for sending this in! absolutely love the idea! and thank you so much, i feel like eating disorders and the struggles that come with them aren't something thats spoken of enough and i really would like to bring awareness by sharing my own story :) so, if anyone has any questions about that, feel free to send them in ! I'm here to advocate and be a voice..if you think you have one or know someone who does and dont know how or where to get help, i got you, if you're wondering how to cope with symptoms, i got you!

in the meantime however, i give you my comfort loves, jake and babygirl! please feel free to send in any requests, comments or thoughts that you may have for this particular series ! and in lieu of halloween, this is officially halloween themed.

p.s. how are we doing today? are we hydrated? have we had a snack or two? this is your reminder to go do both if you haven't already! also does someone want to possibly make a boodboard for jake and babygirl?? full credit would go to you in every post if i use it !

warnings: elusions to sex and actual soft sex mentioned and described as well as cockwarming briefly mentioned, pregnancy, fainting, hospitals, grown adults bullying essentially

the babygirl series part three, part two here

BABYGIRL, the playlist

INSECURITIES. jake 'hangman' seresin

Your breathing was even as you layed on your back, one of your legs caught between his. The NAVY tshirt you were wearing (his navy tshirt) rode up to rest just beneath your glorious breasts with your arms raised up, one tucked under the pillow next to your head, the other laid across his chest, your tummy on full display. You had been with him for just over a month now, having extended your two week vacation indefinitely. He knew you two would have to fly home sometime soon, to pack up the things in your apartment and eventually make your way over to your families ranch's to let them know what was going on, but he didn't want to think about that, not now when had what felt like all the time in the world to admire you.

Your stomach rose and fell with every breath and almost instinctively he finds his hand resting there, thumb rubbing gently back and forth over the small but slowly growing more prominent baby bump you were beginning to sport. You had been shy about him doing that, and he knew that it was because in the back of your mind, that little baby growing in you hadn't come from him, but if you asked him, that little girl in there was his, even without the Seresin blood. He hadn't ran away or called you names when you had told him, infact, it had only drawn him to you more. You were his, and so was the little miracle you were growing and he wasn't afraid to admit it either. Hell, he had gone that night to the Hard Deck, a dopey grin on his face as he walked in with your hand in his and had announced it to the entire bar, happily telling his friends and Penny about the bun in your proverbial oven. He couldn't help but smile at the memory.

You shift after another moment, a small groan coming from your throat as you turn towards him, head pressed against his chest now. He presses a content kiss to the top of your messy hair adjusting you so that his arm was under you now, holding you against him. The bedroom was still dark but sunlight was slowly starting to seep through the small slit in the curtains, lighting up a small patch of the floor and the bed. He wondered if he should get up and open the window for you, maybe brew a pot of the decaf coffee he'd immediately switched you to when he found out about the baby.

He's about to decide against the thoughts, not wanting to wake you, not when you were sleeping so soundly after having a rough week of being sick and uncomfortable, you beat him to it though, your soft whine reaching his ears. "Mornin' babygirl.." He says, southern accent more prominent in his gruff morning voice. A smile spreads across his lips, as easy as butter glides across toasts as you lift your head up slowly, sleepy eyes meeting his before planting a long and slow good morning kiss on him. "You were sleeping so good, i didn't want to wake you up.."

You hum, trying to gather your sleepy wits about you, even though it had only been a month, jake was usually the only thing you noticed in the mornings, his warmth and love completely enveloping you, the only thing your mind could register besides the nausea usually rolling in your tummy, so it took you a moment to fully wake up.

After a few minutes of snuggling into your boyfriend, his hand rubbing your belly almost soothingly, you decide that you don't feel queasy enough to run to the bathroom right away (a godsend, really) and you shift yourself so that you're sitting atop of him, legs on either side of his hips, comforter slouched around your legs.

He looks up at you with an amused smile, large hands gliding up your thighs to land on your hips, just underneath of the baggy tshirt you'd stolen from him. "Somethin' i can help you with?" He asks, sleepy southern drawl sending shockwaves through your body as the hands on your hips grind you down against him, you were still bare from the night before, the two of you having stayed up late together just making love to each other.

You were insatiable when it came to him, maybe it was years of pent up sexual tension, maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, or maybe it was just that you guys were so perfect for each other that you literally could not get enough of one another, whatever it was though, neither of you was complaining. You had never been more satisfied from just one single touch before, had never been left craving more of the person you were with until you had been with Jake.

"Have time for a proper good morning, fly boy?" You ask teasingly, already lifting the hem of your shirt to toss it onto the floor, which was where most of your clothes had been finding their home these days when it came to the bedroom.

"Keep it on for me, babygirl, want you to wear it while i watch you ride me," You hadn't even noticed that one of his hands had already been between your bodies, but he was sliding his cock out of his boxers and gliding you down onto it as he spoke, a sigh of pleasure already leaving your lips before you're even sunk down fully onto him. "Feel so good babygirl," He groans, already pussy drunk off of you.

His fingers grip tighter onto your hips as you ride him lazily, hips moving back and forth in a languid but pleasurable pace, his hips bucking up into yours softly. "Jake," You whine, hands planted on his hard chest, fingers curled into the coarse hairs that scattered there, he grunts in response as he thrusts up into you, his massive hands pulling you down to meet his cock with each one. "so full baby, feels so good jakey.." Your words only fueled his ego, his eyebrows furrowing as he pumps up into you, you were both still overly sensitive from the night before and he knew that he wasn't going to last long, and neither were you judging by the way your nails dug into the skin of his chest.

Jake furrows his brows deeper, watching your face contort with pleasure as he continues to slowly fuck up into your overly sensitive body, his own toes curling into the mattress as he tries to stave off his own orgasm, a feat proving much harder than he had originally thought with the noises that escaped you and the way your pussy felt clamping around him right then.. "..so pretty, babygirl, always so fucking pretty for me.." He grunts out, feeling the way you clench down on him, hearing the whine come from your throat as you cum, your thighs shaking on either side of him. "..that's it baby, thats it.." He says, not too far behind you. He cums as your body sags against his, his hands on your ass the only thing holding you steady as you bury your head in his neck, leaving small kisses along the top of his collar bone.

"..Do you have to go to work, baby?" You ask, lifting your head up to look at him, the pout that he had never been able to say no to adorning your lips.

You can't help but smirk a little as your boyfriend throws his head back with a groan, one of his hands snaking its way up your back. "Babygirl, i would give anything to stay home with you attached to me like this all day long," his voice is thick, that accent ever so present as he tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear. "but i gotta go to work, we're running flight trainings today.." Though they were a permanent mission squad within the TOP GUN training academy, they weren't always training for missions and today was one of those days where they got to run flights with the newer admissions who all thought they were the shit. Otherwise known as, Jake Seresin Gets To Show Off day.

You groan and drop your head to his chest, listening to him chuckle at you before he kisses the top of your head. "Fine, shower with me?" You lift your head up, a playful waggle to your eyebrows that he just can't say no to.

"I think that can be arranged." He says with a smile, his arms wrapping around your ass to hold you as he swiftly stands up with you, making you squeal in surprise as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, clinging to him in fear of falling. Your ass meets the cold counter of the bathroom sink as he sets you down on it, peppering your face with kisses as he flips the light switch, making you giggle and smile that beautiful smile he loved so much. "Don't move."

"Yes Sir!" You chuckle, watching as he opens the shower door and steps in, turning it on. "Make sure its hot baby!" You instruct, practically feeling his eyes roll into the back of his head despite doing as you said.

"I will never understand you and the volcanic level of hot water you bathe in, how do you even have skin left?" He asks, voice serious as he walks over to you, stepping between your legs as he reaches behind you to turn the faucet on with one hand while the other reaches above your head, grabbing the bottle he'd seen you use every morning since you'd been with him.

"It's relaxing!" You argue, voice raising an octave as you try not to laugh at him when he suddenly splashes your face with cold water. "Excuse me for not liking to take an ice plunge every time i step into the shower," You cackle, causing him to start laughing as he brings his hands to your cheeks, gently rubbing them with your favorite facial cleanser. You hadn't even noticed him put it on his fingers, but it felt like he was massaging your face and it felt damn good. "You spoil me, you know?" You hum, relaxing into his touch, eyes closing. He could have lulled you back to sleep like that if he wanted to.

Jake grunts in disagreement. "I don't spoil you nearly enough, babygirl." He states, completely believing it. He wouldn't tell you but he was already planning how to ask you to marry him, he didn't need to wait a year, or even until the baby was born, he knew you were the one for him and he just couldn't wait to spoil you even more once you were his wife, and spoil the hell out of the little hellions you guys would have together.

After a minute he grabs a soft wash cloth from the drawer by the sink and wets it only a little, gently wiping the cleanser off of your face for you. The action of the thing was just so freaking sweet, and so fucking Jake that you didn't have the heart to tell him that you weren't supposed to wipe away the cleanser like that. It doesn't take long before the shower has steamed up the whole bathroom and he's helping you off of the counter before leading you into the shower, letting you step under the water first after he helps you slip his navy tshirt over your head.

You hum as the water hits you, your body relaxing as you feel his thumbs kneading the skin at the base of your neck, the spot where you tend to hold all of your tension. You lean back into him and just let the water wash over you, enjoying the closeness with him.

The pleasantness of the morning only lasts for a couple of hours, not too long after Jake leaves for work (with a kiss to your cheek and a smack to your ass) the intense feeling of nausea and a pounding headache that had been plaguing you with it for the past two weeks came crawling back, you thought you had been rid of it finally when you woke up feeling perfect this morning, but of course it was too good to be true. You're hunched over the toilet for hours, the breakfast Jake had been kind enough to make you crawling its way out of your stomach.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" You ask your stomach after a nasty bout of vomiting, and as if in answer, your stomach lurches unpleasantly, though you manage not to spew everywhere this time.

You seem to be fine for the rest of the day, though your head pounds and you sit in darkness until about the time that Jake gets off work, knowing he was going to be home and excited to head straight to the hard deck with the crew for Penny's Halloween party. You had been excited too, had even planned out your costume with him but god you hadn't felt this bad before, this was the most intense day of morning sickness that you'd had the entire time you'd been pregnant. You were tempted to call it off, send him on his own, but you knew he wouldn't go. He would stay by your side and take care of you, and you didn't want that, not when he had been so excited to show you off tonight.

Despite your better judgement you start getting yourself ready around the time you know he's getting ready to leave base, you know your timing is right because you get a 'be home soon babygirl' text from him a few minutes into your endeavor. You smile at your phone for a second, wondering how you got so damn lucky to be able to be in love with your best fucking friend in the whole world..

You're in the middle of painting your small but ever present swollen baby belly with safe, brown paint, standing in the full body mirror as you do it. You're trying to make it look as much like a bun as possible, which isn't as easy as it seems when you can't physically detach your stomach and lay it flat on a table to look at and paint like you could literally anything else. You hear the front door open, and his voice carry's through it's usual greeting. "In the bedroom!" You holler back. You hear something thump onto the floor (his duffle, probably filled with his sweaty khaki uniform and underclothes) and his boots thud down the hallway.

"Hey, Babyg-" You turn to face him as soon as you peek him and his dark green flight suit in the doorway, showing off the bun you were working so hard on. Thankfully, focusing so hard on something else had pushed your nausea and headache to the back of your mind, the least of your worries as you locked eyes with your grinning boyfriend. "That looks so good Babygirl! Look at you and our little girl all dressed up for Halloween.." He steps into the room, his smile lighting his face as he brings his lips to yours, before he can even kiss you though your nose scrunches up at the smell of him, sweaty and smelling like airplane fuel and oil.

You know it's coming before your stomach even lurches and you shove him away from you so hard he lands on the bed, a shocked noise escaping him as you rush into the bathroom, sliding in front of the toilet just in the nick of time. Somewhere in the back of your mind you hear Jake rush into the bathroom behind you, crouching down with you to rub your back. You manage to wave him away as you heave and he seems to get the hint, taking a step back.

"You smell." You groan when you're sure you've finished, trying to find the strength to stand up and rinse your mouth out. Jake makes an offended noise in the back of his throat, but you shoot him a glare that tells him you're serious and it seems to shut him up.

"Right," He says, clapping his hands together as you finally stand up. "i'll shower, you finish getting ready if you feel like you're able to go..if not, we'll stay home and watch 90 day Fiancé or something.." He wouldn't admit it to you, but your reality show addiction had become one of his new favorite hobbies and he would be more than happy to spend the night in bed with you binging. Who needed a Halloween party anyway? "How many times have you done that today?"

"I'll be fine to go, that's the first time that's happened all day." You lie, sidling up next to him to rinse out your mouth, trying desperately not to breathe through your nose so you don't repeat the emptying of your already empty stomach for the tenth time today. You meet his eyes in the mirror, he's looking at you like he doesn't believe you. "Really baby," You smile, turning around to face him. You look up at the handsome man before you, trying your hardest not to breathe in his scent. "I'll be okay, just take a shower and wash all the airplane gunk off of you before it happens again."

He gives you a long look, green eyes searching your face for any sign that he shouldn't let you go tonight and just make you stay home instead, he really couldn't have cared either way about the damn halloween party, now that he had you, you were the only thing that he ever cared to spend his time with. "Okay," He concedes, ruffling your hair with his ginormous hand. You roll your eyes at the action, but your body relaxes despite feeling horrible about the lie. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

You pushed through the next hour or so, finishing your costume while Jake showered and got himself ready, eagerly talking about how the two of you were going to kick Phoenix and Bob's asses in the costume contest that Penny was hosting tonight, and how he was so excited to show you and the belly off and as you checked yourself out in the mirror, you were once again reminded of just how lucky you were to have Jake to love you and the little miracle growing inside of you.

You pushed through Jake cooking himself a quick snack, you even made it through the drive to the bar like a champ, driving his big ass truck all the way there while he lay in the back seat because he refused to take his costume off until after the contest.

You had been at the bar for a couple of hours, mingling with Bob and Phoenix for the most part, who looked adorable in their Buzz and Woody costumes, when you took a turn for the worse. You and the rest of the squad had gotten to the bar quite early to help Penny finish setting up and as it started filling up with other people from base and some of the new TOP GUN students you and Jake had somehow gotten separated and after a while of talking with Phoenix about doing a shopping trip and lunch date on her next day off you started to look around for him.

Jake was at the pool table, high fiving Bradley as he sunk a ball into one of the pockets, very obviously wining the game of pool he had been roped into with the new recruits. You cant help the smile that lights your face when he catches your eye, sending you a signature Jake Seresin smirk and a wink of his eye. You giggle to yourself, your heart feeling full of nothing but love and happiness when it came to him.

"God, you guys are so in love its honestly sickening.." Natasha mutters, rolling her eyes with a playful smile on her face as she sips her whiskey on the rocks. You cackle in laughter, pushing her shoulder gently as you leave her side and make your way over to Jake, you'd had enough of being away from his side for one night.

A couple of people move in front of you as you're walking, and you have to stop and say hello to Maverick, who had arrived stylishly late to the party. "You're glowing!" He had said, giving you a kiss on your cheek. He was honestly in complete awe of you and the affect that you had on Hangman, he had done a complete 360 since you'd gotten together and he couldn't thank you enough for it because he wasn't sure how to handle it some days.

You chat with him for a few moments before making your way to Jake, except when he comes back into your view this time there's someone else with him. A tall bottle blonde in a risqué nurses costume that was honestly probably lingerie, she had fishnet stockings on and mile high platform stripper heels.

She was the kind of girl that had always caught his attention before you.

She was the kind of girl you had always been underlyingly jealous of.

And that jealously came rearing its ugly head. Fists clenched to your sides you walked over to your boyfriend with a purpose, not even catching their conversation before you wrapped your arms around his always so toned and tight bicep that was sticking out of the arm hole of the costume he had spent time making himself.

"Hey Babygirl," He says immediately, turning his head to plant a big fat kiss on your lips, you could practically feel his body relaxing at your touch and that seemed to cause you jealousy to ease, knowing that he was being held hostage in the conversation. "Jessa, this is my Babygirl.." The woman in front of you looked at you with narrowed eyes and then looked down at your costumes, her eyes roaming from your painted pregnant belly to his oven costume and and then back again, it seemed like it took a moment for all of the wheels to turn but they finally clicked into place.

"We dated for a while, not that long ago..just wanted to come over and say hello." She says. "I had heard you were settled down but i didn't think it could possibly be true.." Her eyes never leave his as she speaks, batting her eyelashes at him as if trying to entice him.

Jake raises his beer bottle to his lips, glancing down to you as if he wasn't quite sure what to say. "Well, I hate to break it to you but..its true.." You grind out, your queasy stomach returning as you catch a whiff of her strong perfume. "I'll be right back baby.."

You barely make it to the ladies room all the way across the bar before it spews out of you. You're hunched over the toilet for a good few minutes heaving and queasing and so focused on yourself that you don't hear bathroom door squeak open again, or the stripper heels smacking against the tiled floor that Penny thankfully kept in pristine cleanliness.

You don't notice the other presence in the bathroom until you've stood up and turned around, headed to wash your hands and try to wash the small bit of vomit off of your black shirt. You stop in your tracks immediately when you spot her, arms crossed over her outrageously exposed breasts as she stands with her hip popped, as if she were looking for a fight.

"I always knew he liked easier girls, but i never thought he liked actual whores." She states, eyeing your pregnant belly with clear disdain. "I'm not stupid, i can do basic math. He stopped calling me almost two months ago, way too soon for you to be thus far pregnant with his baby."

"..excuse me?" You utter, mouth watery again as you fought of what you hoped was just nerves and not another round of throwing up..you didn't think you could go 12 rounds today and still make it through the party.

The woman cackles damn near evilly. "The way Jake always spoke about his babygirl I thought she was this pure angel. Turns out she's a fucking whore." She shakes her head, eyeing once more. "You're not his type either, he really must fucking pity you if he's fucking you like this, the poor thing.."

You can't think of anything to say, you could barely hold your head up with how suddenly dizzy you were. As she turns to leave the bathroom, the door swinging open, the vomit spews out of you like lava spewed out of Pompeii and as you sink to the floor, trying to keep your own head up, too dizzy to see straight or use your voice or even think, you couldn't help but to remember the words that she had said..that he must have pittied you..that wasn't true..right?

Natasha noticed Jessa come out of the bathroom that she had seen you go into earlier, and maybe it was just because she was slightly paranoid but she felt like she needed to poke her head in and check on you, especially after she sauntered right back up to Jake and ran her hand down his bicep after you had very clearly made it known that she needed to back off.

"Keep an eye on Jessa," She says to Bob, catching her Wizzo's attention as she slipped off of her bar stool. "I'm gonna go check on Babygirl.." Everyone had taken to calling you by Jake's nickname for you, it was practically your God given name by this point.

"On it." Bob says, taking his Shirley Temple with him as he strides from the bar top to the pool table.

Natasha pushes people out of her way, the wings of her Buzz costume doing all of the work for her as she makes her way to the restrooms, pushing the door opening and entering sideways. She hears your moan before she sees you slumped in a pool of your own throw up, your skin paler than the flourescent lighting in the small bathroom and a small sheen of sweat on your forehead. "Holy sit.." She says, crumbling down next to you, taking your head in her hands. "Babygirl? You awake?" A slight moan is the only response. "Fuck...fuck.."

She doesn't leave your side, but she thanks God for having long legs because she's able to catch the door stopper just right with her foot and open it far enough for her voice to carry. "JAKE! BOB! SOMEBODY HELP!" You moan again, your head thumping to her chest. Her voice must be loud enough because there's a drawn out silence before a scattering of feet pounding against the hardwood flooring of the Hard Deck. "Call 911!"

Jake's heart drops into his stomach as soon as he sees you, his eyes widening. "What happened?" He doesn't bother to care about the emotional crack in his voice as he drops to his knees, Bob and Rooster right behind him in the door way. "Nat, what the fuck happened?"

"I don't know, she was like this when I came in - Jessa had just come out!" She says panicking because she had never once seen Jacob Seresin look so scared and vulnerable before. "She keeps moaning and she's sweaty..Jake what if it's the baby?"

He squeezed his eyes closed, he couldn't bare to think of it, he couldn't bare to think of how sad and broken you would be..he couldn't even begin to think of how to pick up those broken pieces if that were the case, so he didn't think about it. He focused on Bob's voice behind him, on the phone with the 911 operator.

"...17 weeks pregnant, semi conscious.." Bob spoke to the person on the other end, Jake had told them all this morning how far along you were, forcefully showing everyone the pregnancy tracking app on his phone screen. Bob had remembered because of how excited Jake had been.

Jake looked at you, your head in Natasha's lap and then glanced back at Bradley who's eyes were wide with fear, an exact mimic of his own facial expression he was sure. He remembered suddenly that Natasha had said that someone had been in here before she found you..Jessa.

He was on his feet before he had even finished having the thought, shoving past Bradley who had the wherewithal to dutifully follow him as he stalked down the hallway and into the main area of the bar.

"Jessa!" He thundered, the bar going silent. She wasn't hard to find, she was one of the few girls dressed like a hooker. "What the fuck did you do? Huh?" He asks, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her.

"Jake, back off man-" Bradley's hand is on his shoulder pulling him back. Jessa scoffs at both of them and rolls her eyes turning around.

"Not my fault the skanky trash can't handle the thing growing inside of her." She says to her group of friends, causing them to start cackling.

She was lucky that Nat hadn't heard her, and that he didn't go crawling back to the bathroom to send her out here to do what he knew she would have because just then flashing lights shined through the front windows of the bar. Paramedics had arrived.

"Oh now that's just fucking dramatic!" She groans to her friends as Jake walks away, causing him to turn back around to start yelling at her once more. Bradley spins him back towards the door though and he runs outside to rush them in.

When you come to you're scared out of your mind, the last thing you remember were the words Jessa had said echoing in your mouth. Your heart starts to race and you hear a monitor start to go off, there were things attached to your stomach and your arms and all of a sudden his hands were on your shoulder, weary eyes looking into yours.

"..jake? what happened?" You ask, your heart already starting to calm down and you realize that the monitor that was going off was attached to you.

"You were dehydrated, you passed out.." Jake says, pressing a kiss to your temple as one hand goes to rest on your stomach, right next to the fetal monitors. "Your OB says that it's from throwing up so much, says that you weren't getting in as much as you were getting out.." You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the pillow, kicking yourself for letting it get that bad. "Why didn't you tell me it was that bad babygirl? You scared me shitless..you scared all of us..Nat found you laying in your own vomit..she came with me, wouldn't even go home to change..she's off hounding your doctor for more information.."

You process his words, hating yourself for putting your friend in that situation, for ruining the halloween party. You open your eyes and turn to look at him. "Is the baby okay?" Your lip quivers and tears begin to stream down your face. "Jake im so sorry baby, I thought I could tough it out, I didn't want you to worry.."

Jake sighs, kissing your forehead as he wipes the tears from your eyes, letting you know that the baby was okay, and that you would be okay too. That he was going to take care of you always, and his words washed over you completely, emptying your head of whatever doubt Jessa had temporarily placed in it.

taglist:

@bellaireland1981 @sky0401 @memoriesat30 @bat-luna-cat @memeorydotcom @mamachasesmayhem @kmc1989 @justherebecausesafarisucks @mrowphine @djs8891

[euryalex]

SOCIAL MEDIA OC PSD

Fonts used: Blender Pro Features: A header image to show off what your OC would photograph or use; Profile picture to show their beautiful face; Bio section to add a description of your OC or show off what your OC would write; Info section to show little details; Photo section to show off photos your OC might take or share; Friends section that can be extended up to 12 slots to show off their relationships with other characters; Customizable! Sections are here to guide or give you an idea, but everything is fully customizeable! Sections like Bio or Info can be moved, and Friends can even be moved up to show up to 12 slots. Posts can be edited, with the buttons underneath able to be copied and moved to create a new type of post.

Edit to your liking but do not claim as your own. Do not distribute as your own creation. Please credit me and link back to this post if you can! Feel free to mention me if you use this, I'd love to see your OCs! Likes/Reblogs are appreciated

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[pinchofhoney]

Request: Reader and his partner were arguing until he slaps her and she slaps him back, when Reader realizes what he did he flees to the cemetery. Everything was happening in view of Joel who goes and consoles her.

six feet in the ground

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

joel miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

warning: platonic relationship, mention of abuse, argument

summary: During a difficult time when your partner has let you down and broken your trust, it's reassuring to remember that you have other people in your life whom you can rely on no matter what.

a/n: hello there, anon!!<33 it's nice to see you on my page, i hope you like what i have prepared for you!

due to my ongoing obsession with the last of us, my inbox is wide open all the time for your story ideas with joel!! feel free to share your ideas with me, i'll be happy to make them happen<33

every like and reblog is very much appreciated!!

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

tag list: @wolfmoonmusic @alexxavicry @babypeapoddd

As the rain continued to pour down on you, you felt as though it was washing away not just the tears but also a part of your soul. The downpour was unrelenting, much like the pain that now consumed you. You had never thought that your partner would lay a hand on you, but now you had a throbbing reminder on your cheek. You couldn't believe that it had happened, that the person you loved had hurt you like this.

As you stood there in the middle of the square, you felt like everyone was watching you, judging you. You slowly raised a trembling hand to your left cheek, over which a pinching pain was spreading, looking at the people nearby who had witnessed the incident that took place just a moment ago. Your gaze stopped on the man you could call your best friend without hesitation. Joel had been your confidante, someone you had trusted enough to share your problems with, but now you weren't sure if he would still see you in the same light.

You couldn't think straight, your mind a blur of emotions. You felt a sense of emptiness, as if a part of you had been hollowed out. You had always thought that you and your partner were meant to be together forever, but now you weren't so sure. How could you be with someone who would hurt you like this? You blinked several times, lowering your hand and breaking eye contact with Joel.

You looked around the square once more, feeling lost and alone. You wanted to disappear, to run away from everything and everyone. You hugged yourself tightly, trying to find some comfort in your own embrace, but it was no use. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and embarrassed. The tears and the raindrops continued to mix together as you quickly walked away, unsure of where you were going or what you were going to do next.

But how did you even end up in this situation?

You have been waiting for some bigger smuggling job for a while now, and finally, that day had arrived. Although you were excited, you also felt a bit anxious since this was your first extended job of this kind. It was a week-long trip and so for that reason you worked closely with your best friend, who was more experienced in smuggling than you.

As you arrived at your destination, things went smoothly. The job was challenging, but you made steady progress each day without any significant issues. You and Joel would spend quality time together, discussing work and catching up on your personal lives. Although you both lived in the same Boston Quarantine Zone, you didn’t see each other daily, so you savored every moment of the trip, despite its difficulties. You felt grateful to have Joel by your side, and it was a welcome reprieve from your partner Ezekiel, with whom you'd been arguing over trivial matters more frequently lately.

After a week of being away on your smuggling assignment with Joel, you were eager to return home. However, as you arrived back in the Quarantine Zone this afternoon, you immediately sensed that something was off. The sky was ominously covered with dark clouds, and the wind was picking up speed, signaling the imminent arrival of a storm.

You were relieved that you were close to home and would be able to take shelter soon. As you made your way through the main square with Joel, you spotted Ezekiel watching you both with a scowl on his face. Ignoring his unpleasant demeanor, you continued to discuss with Joel when you would go to receive your payment. Both of you were tired and wanted to complete the formalities after a short break.

After saying good bye to the man, you eagerly approached Ezekiel, who started to walk away, with a smile on your lips, hoping for a warm welcome. However, as you got closer, you felt the tension in the air, and you knew that something was wrong. Ezekiel's attitude was cold and distant, and it was clear that he was not happy to see you.

As you began to walk together towards your home, the silence between you was deafening. You tried to engage him in conversation, but he was unresponsive, and his body language was closed off. The entire time, you couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had occurred while you were away.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tiling your head to glance at your partner.

“I’m fine,” Ezekiel shrugged and darted a quick glance at you.

“Are you upset?” you persisted, keeping your gaze fixed on him, except when you had to pass someone.

“Why would I be upset?” Ezekiel remained silent, indicating that you had hit a nerve.

“You’re acting strange, is something bothering you?” you asked, growing more confused by the second.

“You know exactly what’s bothering me,” he snapped, his anger now palpable.

You were completely bewildered. You had no clue what he was talking about. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand,” you said.

“Joel,” Ezekiel spat out stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, his tone full of disgust. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Joel's name. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. “What do you mean, Ezekiel?” you asked incredulously. “He's been helping me with the smuggling job for the past week. There's nothing between us.”

“I saw the way he was looking at you,” Ezekiel said, his voice rising with each word. “I don't trust him. He's been trying to get with you since day one.”

“That's not true,” you protested. “Joel and I are just friends. He knows we’re together and besides that, it was you who introduced me to him.”

“He's just waiting for his chance,” Ezekiel growled. “I don't want you around him anymore.”

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Ezekiel was always possessive, but you never thought he would be so jealous of your friendship with Joel. “That's not fair, Ezekiel,” you said, feeling the first drops of rain hitting your skin. “You know Joel is just a friend.”

“I don't care,” Ezekiel said, his voice cold and unyielding. “I don't want him around you.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

“That's not going to happen, Ezekiel. Joel is my best friend and I won't give that up because you're jealous.”

Ezekiel's face twisted in anger, and you could see the rain pouring down around you. “Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “But don't come running to me when he tries to make a move on you,” he significantly pointed at you with his index finger.

“Something like this will never happen and you know that.”

But Ezekiel was not convinced and continued to argue with you, loudly accusing you of being unfaithful and not caring about your relationship. You tried to reason with him, but his anger was too intense for him to listen. The argument only escalated, drawing attention from the people around you.

As you look back on the situation now, you can't help but think about what might have been if you had only listened to Ezekiel words and let go. Maybe if you had accepted his point, waited for his temper to cool down, and approached the subject of Joel with a calm demeanor, things might have turned out differently. But your prideful nature wouldn't allow you to back down. You refused to relinquish control, unwilling to be the target of Ezekiel's wrath and succumb to his demands. And now, you can't help but feel the crushing weight of remorse for your stubbornness, knowing that your refusal to concede has led to an irreversible outcome.

As the heavens opened up and raindrops battered down on you, drenching your clothes and adding to the discomfort, the argument with Ezekiel hit a fever pitch. The mere suggestion that you had been unfaithful to him wounded you deeply, and the fact that he had the audacity to try and dictate who you could and couldn't spend time with ignited a fury within you. It was in this moment of intense emotion that a searing pain shot through your cheek, and before you knew it, your body had retaliated with a hit of its own.

Both of you were left standing there, stunned into silence by the sudden escalation of the conflict. Although you had argued often in recent times, physical violence had never once come into play. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat as the rain continued to pummel down on you, its unrelenting presence blurring your vision and making it difficult to see clearly.

“Fuck it all,” Ezekiel snarled, breaking the silence. He spat near your shoes before turning and walking away with heavy steps filled with anger. You watched his figure disappear into the rain, feeling a mix of sadness and rage inside you.

You shook your head, desperate to erase the haunting memories of the moments that had just transpired. Your arms wrapped more tightly around your shivering frame as the cold penetrated your very bones, causing your body to quiver uncontrollably. You sniffled, wiping your nose with a futile attempt to rid yourself of the constant rain, which had reduced you to a sopping mess.

You had no idea where Ezekiel was headed since he had walked off in the opposite direction of your place. But even if you had, the mere thought of returning to your four walls left you feeling hollow and alone. The job had made you yearn for the warmth of your humble abode, but now it was the last place on earth you wanted to be.

Home was out of the question, and the idea of seeking solace with Tess was just as unappealing. After all, she lived with Joel, the very person who had triggered the argument with Ezekiel. So, without any other options available to you, you made your way towards the underground tunnels that you often used with other smugglers. However, you knew that you needed to be doubly careful, watching out for any FEDRA soldiers who might be patrolling the area. The sight of a person with a backpack in a downpour could be enough to attract their attention, and the last thing you wanted was to find yourself in their crosshairs.

As you approached the hatch of one of the tunnels, a sudden hand landed on your shoulder, causing your heart to leap into your throat. Panic and fear coursed through your veins as you tried to make sense of the situation. Your mind raced, calculating the odds of being discovered by FEDRA and the consequences that would inevitably follow. You couldn't afford to let them find out about the tunnels and expose your fellow smugglers to danger.

In a split second, you froze, trying to discern the identity of the person behind you and assessing the danger you were in. You couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of your stomach. Was it a soldier? Or worse, were there more of them lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce on you? You didn't have much time to think before you had to take action.

Acting purely on instinct, you grabbed the stranger's hand and twisted it sharply, catching them off guard. Their sudden yelp of pain echoed through the tunnel as you turned to face your attacker, your heart racing with adrenaline. You were relieved to see that it wasn't a FEDRA soldier, but Joel, who has had to follow you all this time. The thoughts raced through your mind, each one more frantic than the last. Why hadn't he said anything? Why didn't he try to catch up to you sooner? Perhaps he had been trying to catch up to you all along, but the chaos of the moment had clouded your senses. Your mind had been so consumed with the urgency of escaping the Zone that you hadn't even noticed. You were so determined to disappear from the sight of everyone that you had become oblivious to everything else around you.

Despite the momentary relief, you knew that danger still lurked around every corner, and you couldn't let your guard down for even a second. The stakes were high, and the consequences of being caught were severe.

Your face flushed with embarrassment as you let go of Joel's hand, “I'm so sorry!” you apologized, feeling awkward for mistaking him as someone from FEDRA. The rain continued to pour down, drumming against the ground in a steady rhythm. You scanned your surroundings, making sure that you were safe from any prying eyes.

“I thought it was someone from FEDRA,” you explained quickly, still feeling the rush of adrenaline from the encounter. Joel nodded understandingly, his eyes scanning the area as well.

Joel nodded understandingly, his eyes scanning the area as well. Without hesitation, he grabbed your arm and led you towards the entrance of the tunnel. He hastily opened the hatch and motioned for you to go in first.

Without hesitation, he took hold of your arm and led you towards the entrance of the tunnel. He swiftly opened the hatch and gestured for you to go first. “After you,” he said, his voice calm and reassuring. You stepped inside the tunnel, feeling relieved to finally be out of the rain. Joel followed closely behind, shutting the hatch behind him. The sound of the rain was muffled now, replaced by the echoing drip of water droplets from the tunnel ceiling.

As you both settled into the dimly lit tunnel, the awkward silence between you was palpable. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious about the altercation with Ezekiel and the possibility that Joel had heard everything. You scanned your surroundings, taking in the damp walls and small puddles on the ground. Despite the discomfort, you were relieved to be out of the rain.

With a heavy sigh, you removed your backpack and ran a hand through your wet hair, brushing it away from your face. You leaned against the cool wall, feeling the dampness seeping through your clothes, and slid down onto the dirt floor. The sound of water droplets echoed throughout the tunnel, creating a calming backdrop to the tense atmosphere between you and Joel.

The man leaned against the wall opposite you, his arms folded over his chest as he looked down at you. Before he could say anything, you spoke up.

“I don't want to talk about what happened,” you said quickly, hoping to end the conversation before it started.

Joel persisted, “But he hit you-”

Cutting him off, you interrupted, “And I hit him too. It's in the past now. Let's just forget about it. Pretend like you didn't see or hear anything,” you added, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your head on them, clearly indicating that you didn't want to discuss the matter any further.

You heard Joel's heavy sigh and the sound of a backpack falling to the ground. He finally got rid of his own as well. Pebbles rustled under his shoes as he crouched down. Joel's voice grew stern as he spoke again. “You can't just pretend like nothing happened. You were assaulted, and it's not something you can just brush off,” his eyes bore into you, and you could feel the weight of his concern.

You felt a surge of anger rise up in you. “I don't need your pity, Joel. I can take care of myself,” you spat out. You hated feeling vulnerable, and you didn't want anyone to see you that way, least of all Joel.

He didn't back down. “I'm not trying to pity you. I'm trying to help you,” he said, his voice softening. “You don't have to deal with this alone.”

You shook your head. “I'm fine, Joel. I've dealt with worse than this.”

“And what, you'll just go home like that? And then you'll lie down next to him in bed, pretending as if he hadn't made you a scene of jealousy in the middle of the Zone half an hour ago at all?” Joel's voice was laced with concern, his eyes wandered over your face.

“C'mon Joel, go back to Tess and stay out of this. It's none of your business…” you snapped, feeling a surge of irritation at his meddling. You shuddered, feeling the damp clothes sticking to your skin and making you even more uncomfortable. The fatigue from the last few days was starting to catch up with you, and you couldn't tell if the heat on your cheeks was a fever or just exhaustion.

“None of my business?” Joel's voice was incredulous, his head tilted to the side as he raised an eyebrow. “Funny, because I have the impression that my name was mentioned several times in your sweet conversation. Doesn't that make me part of the issue?”

You glared at him, feeling a surge of anger. “No, Joel, you're not part of the issue. This is between me and Ezekiel, and we can handle it ourselves. I don't need you getting involved.”

Joel's eyes narrowed, and he leaned in closer to you. “You sure about that? Because it looks to me like you're not doing so well right now. And I don't want to see you getting hurt anymore.”

“And what do you supposedly want to do about it?”

Joel's face hardened as he spoke, his voice low and menacing. “Find him and tell him that if he ever lays a hand on you again, I'll make sure he regrets it for the rest of his miserable life.”

You couldn't help but chuckle at Joel's overprotective attitude, shaking your head in disbelief. “Come on, Joel, you're being ridiculous. It's not like this has happened before,” you said, trying to downplay the situation.

Joel's eyes were focused on you the whole time as he continued to speak, his tone becoming more serious. “I don't care if it's never happened before. He shouldn't be laying a hand on you, ever. Besides, you seemed exceptionally happy to get a break from him this week and that's not a good sign. You shouldn't have to feel relieved to be away from your partner, especially not in the middle of a world like this.”

You felt a lump form in your throat as you listened to Joel's words. He was right, of course, but you didn't want to think about it. You didn't want to think about the fact that your relationship with Ezekiel had been deteriorating for a while now. That he had become increasingly possessive and controlling, and that his jealousy had reached a boiling point today.

You let out a deep sigh, your breath misting in the chilly air. “I know,” you said softly, “but there's nothing you can do about it. I'll deal with it on my own.”

Joel shook his head. “I can't just stand by and watch while you're being mistreated like this. It's not right.”

“Joel, please,” you said, pleading with him. “I appreciate your concern, but this is something I have to handle myself. I'll talk to Ezekiel, I'll figure something out.”

Joel didn't look convinced, but he nodded. “Okay,” he said finally. “But if you ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

You managed a small smile. “Thanks, Joel. I appreciate it.”

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound the drip-drip of water from somewhere in the tunnel. You shivered again, feeling the cold seeping into your bones. You were exhausted, emotionally and physically drained. All you wanted was to curl up and sleep for a week. But you knew you couldn't. You had to face Ezekiel, had to try and fix things between the two of you. It wouldn't be easy, but you were determined to try.

[alvie-pines]

Not sure if you still want headcanons or ideas for OpBee (and sorry about your father) but here are some stuff I guess?:

Let's assume those are like mix of continuities

•Since Bee is in special forces and well a spy I feel like he would be very good at hiding his emotions, at least more better then what people give him credit for. OP is also very good at it but he also has his tells that Bee probably noticed over the centuries. Probably like his movement of his OP dials or mini expressions around his eyes like when they widen in surprise or crease in amusement or worry.

• I feel like Bee would rather scrub the whole ark with human toothbrush rather then confess, like at all. He is good bad at hiding his emotions about Optimus and he feels comfortable he yearns to be in this limbo of not knowing. He tends to fall fast and usually it ends up in heartbreak or painful rejection and hey we speaking of Optimus prime here.

•Optimus would fall slower but harder. He is used to not showing his true feelings so maybe he mistakes the slowly growing romantic affection for something else? Depends if we wanna ANGSTY route or fun route so inma go for ambiguous one.

•The first time Bee gets injured (like extended med stay injured) under Optimus command, he thinks he made a mistake allowing Bee out in the battle BC (insert angsty reason) untill he finds out the only reason bee was injured was because his cover was blown as he rescued a comrade from certain doom.

•From that a lot of feelings started to grow, constant worry over Bee health in particular which makes Optimus feel guilty BC he has a whole army to think about, not just Bee. But there is also pride whenever Bee manages to accomplish something great like obtaining crucial information or managing to twart decepticon plans. There is also frustration whenever Bee gets Infront of unnecessary danger like taking a shot for him that he could have easily take on.

•Different love languages!!! I feel like whilst Optimus love language would be acts of service Bee would be verbal. Optimus can't just act like he blatantly favorites Bee so he finds different ways to show his love like spending his short free time with bee or even doing paperwork in the same room. Leaving small gifts that Bee offhandedly mentioned or doing what he can to make Bee happy.

Bee on the other hand would find words be just a tad more meaningful. For me it's like, he is a spy he needs to be showed he is loved through action but he feels that if he tried reciprocate it would came as less genuine. So he speaks and speaks and finds words to say Optimus about what he loves how he loves. He lets himself be himself in those moments.

If he looses his voice around this time it would be even more devastating as he lost his main way to show love. Sure he can give gifts and show his love in different ways but his main way was taken away from him. He still grieves it.

•They probably share quality time as shared loved language.

I'm not sure about character limit in asks so inma end it here and hope those helps in any way!!! I'm more then happy to send some more :D

sorry for spelling mistakes I tried to catch them but screen be blurry dbdhdh

-@);-- R anon

thank you so much!! its good to keep my mind off my family situation right now. and i loooove all these headcanons.

i love bee and optimus slowly learning to read each other better than most of their peers... slowly picking up on each others feelings.

i also think bee could really easily view himself as "not worthy" because, i mean, its a prime. he might view his crush on op as something that would be insulting or even blasphemous if optimus were to find out.

meanwhile, optimus thinks his feelings are wrong because of the power he holds as a prime--he thinks that if he confesses, bee will say yes just to please him. so he keeps those feelings very close to his spark. he also probably worries about responsibility and impartiality as a commanding officer. (irl, in the military, your commanding officer often cannot be your partner due to the bias it can cause in decision-making)

such good angst ideas in here, i am eating it up.

[hellobitchlet]

Alright, here's the 5.1 edition of the Natlan bingo! 2/9 updates done and we have exactly 1/5 of the bingo crossed off. For reference, I only did act 3 + 4, and haven't done Xilonen's quest or any more world quests. Once again, if you have anything to add, feel free to comment, especially since I haven't done a story quest tribal chronicle yet-

Here's the previous version

Explanations and other notes below the cut:

'Capitano is from Natlan, for some reason'- I debated whether or not his backstory counted, because I meant that he was born and/or raised there, but I ultimately decided that 'was here for an extended period of time as an adult' counts.

'Paimon and Traveler act really fucking racist'- this one is actually about 5.0. In the last update, I mentioned Paimon's racism in Mualani's quest, but that I haven't found Traveler being racist yet. Ashesofdawn pointed this out;

Sooo that's what this is about. Credit to ashesofdawn for pointing this out!

Other thoughts: (or, well, there's only 1 this time)

I feel like I should clarify what I mean by 'new lore' vs 'expanding on old lore' (or as I phrased it in the bingo, setting up new plot points vs answering old ones). Essentially, new lore is any lore that is either entirely new stuff never referenced before (ex. aranara + pari), is only vaguely connected to older lore (ex. melusines), or 'expansion of old lore' that just blatantly disregards what it's supposed to be expanding on (ex. the all Fontainians are oceanids bullshit).

On the other hand, expanding on old lore is, well, exactly what it sounds like. Expanding on the stuff that was set up... pretty much anything pre-Sumeru I would say? Expansion means giving new info, not just casually reminding you that it exists. For example, that moment in the Natlan act 4 cutscene that (presumably) showed what is behind the false sky expands on false sky lore, but Dottore saying 'hey Nahida do u want to know about the false sky' just reminds you about it.

And so, in the case of Natlan, this is the stuff I consider to be new lore/plot points;

- saurians, and the idea that the dragons were a human-like society that built machinery.

- ancient names.

- the general idea that Natlan has been in a huge war with the Abyss and has been extremely different from the other nations this whole time. I mean, how was this never acknowledged at any point in the first 5 nations if it was planned to be a thing? This is a MASSIVE thing!

- the situation with the pyro archon. Again, how has none of this ever been mentioned by the other archons??? Surely Venti, Zhongli, and maybe Ei would know about it? It doesn't make sense that they wouldn't.

-the stuff with Ororon's soul.

And this is the Natlan stuff that is expansion of old lore/answering old plot points;

- the stuff with the shade of death.

- confirmation that seelies are angels.

- the hint about the false sky stuff.

So, ultimately, I feel like there is more new lore than old lore, but there is still enough expanding on old lore that I kind of want to wait until the archon quest is over to say for sure that it's mostly new lore.

[mappishiina]

"Well, well... I suppose you need an explanation of how all of this works?"

"You should already know who I am, of course- your boss, the one guiding you in your job as the warden of MILGRAM? That's right, I'm the one and only Jackalope. You'll want to listen up, because I'm only going to explain this once..."

"This blog allows you to send questions to Mahiru Shiina, Prisoner 006. Think of it... like an extended interrogation. You can send them as yourself, or anonymously... whatever you'd like. Put your name on what you say or not, I don't care."

"As with how things work in MILGRAM regularly, what you say to her and how you say it will affect her just like your judgements do. This will help you to better understand the prisoner. After all, I want you to peer into their hearts and minds. It's best if you can truly understand them, in order to make the best judgement you can."

"Oh, and one last thing: this blog is best viewed on its desktop theme, if possible."

"I've also been told to mention that there's 'OOC info' under the cut, whatever that means."

Hiii. This is, as you can probably guess, an ask blog/rp account! Just real quick under the cut, here's a few basics for conduct:

I am an adult, but will not be answering any NSFW asks, and I also reserve the right to not reply to anything that makes me personally uncomfortable. This probably won't happen anyway, but I want to make my stance clear just in case. There's a lot of minors on milgramblr and running similar roleplay blogs, and I want this to be a safe and comfortable blog for everyone to interact with.

For consistency's sake, the current timeline of this blog is set in trial one. This may, and likely will, change at some point. I might jump timelines around later. But, starting out, it'll be trial one.

I try to stick close to canon in my characterization, but might indulge in a few personal headcanons here and there, especially to fill in gaps on things we don't know. If you send "magic anons" and things of that sort, I may or may not reply/go with it, depending- I'd like to stick mostly with the idea that any asks sent here are the "voices" that the prisoners mention hearing (so, not being able to physically do anything)... but I also may decide to indulge for fun. Basically, it's up to personal discretion. Just know it might not get answered.

This is probably going to be more of an ask-blog type thing than it is... a rp blog per-se, but I may dip my toes into roleplaying a bit on here as well! Other Milgram RP blogs can feel free to interact, and Mahiru will respond to any asks from RP blogs as if they were being sent by your character. I'll tag interactions with other prisoners with their number!

(I might do art for some asks as well, depending on motivation...)

Oh, and I'll edit this to put a tag index here whenever I figure out what I'm doing for those. Right now my ooc tag is simply #ooc, and any graphics I've used on the blog are reblogged under #graphics credits, as well as being credited at the bottom of this post.

Please just in general be nice and remember there's a real person running the account, and hopefully we can all have some fun with this!~ I've definitely been inspired by seeing other ask blogs/roleplay blogs pop up for MILGRAM, so I'm excited to jump in!

graphics credits: mobile icon + header by ameyumez and dividers on this post by 74n5n.

[apothecaryforwearysouls]

@callsignbaphomet has opened the door to my opinions on magic in fallout ✨️ woe be upon ye <3

Okay okay okay sooooooooooo! This goes back all the way to my original playthrough of point lookout! Not only is this where we find the Necronomicon (I know its not called that but come one.) We see the Blackhall family praying and worshipping and reading from it. We are told it has power! The swamp people are drawn to it as well. In my mind it has to be able to give magical powers of some sort. Not to mention we are asked by Marcella to help destroy the book. Now I have a personal belief that her search for religious artifacts points to the artifacts having power as well.

Now my theory is we have 4 versions of magic that can be accessed, however none of them are arcane in nature. In fallout science is the stand in for arcane magics to me. The magic we are seeing is faith based, clerics, paladins, warlocks, etc. So let's talk about them one at a time.

ATOM: we see that the children of Atom have boons and benefits like immunity to radiation. They are the the most prevalent and widespread religion that we get to see. We see that they accept all of Atoms children. Ghouls of all types are seen as deeply connected to Atoms holy light! (It's why I theorize that Atom is at war with the eldritch entities but another time for that.) I feel like the CoA are capable of more feats than we get to see in game. Bethesda gave us a bit more of their capabilities in Far Harbor. We walked the hallucinations and we're guided to the answers we needed. I'm a big fan of the idea that the children are more important than we give credit for.

2. Ug-Qualtoth: they keep giving us locations and quests for this evil thing! He'll in the ttrpg they have an entire adventure associated! The two major characters we see tied to this are the Dunwich family and Lorenzo. The Dunwich family are directly tied to rituals, artifact finding, and sacrifices to the old gods which has given them extended lives and who knows what else! And with Lorenzo we get to see the effects his blood has not to mention the psychic powers he uses!! Oh and pickman too! His paintings are definitely related.

3. The Mothman: so this is the most recent addition to this ever growing web. But we see the effects of the mothman cults, we see that the Mothman can give you buffs and visions. The former church in 76 houses tomes you cannot read without keeping your connection to Mothman. It's ability to teleport in puffs of black smoke and prophetic abilities are undeniable.

4. I'll call this the miscellaneous section: we know ghosts are real (I'm counting them the more magical aspects of the games given supernatural entities and magic go hand in hand alot.) In Nukaworld we have the Ghoul magician who was capable of things that is more than just simple slight of hand. Going back to Marcella, she was searching for religious artifacts. In my mind that makes me thing that Christian artifacts hold some level of power even if minor given how the religion has fallen from its massive pre war following.

All in all I've been a devout believer in magic within the fallout universe and think they really need to add more aspects of magic and the supernatural in the games and not just the ttrpg. I know they probably don't want to because of pushback but it's so obvious that there is a dark undertone to this setting!

I don't think it would break any kind of cannon for a character to have some type of powers/abilities through a worship of a god/entity. (My brain is struggling but please if you have ideas or questions feel free to ask!)

[mzoyagon]

I got inspired this morning and decided to make some concepts to inspire others with!

Trigger warning for the following: Body horror via mouths. Intentionally trypophobic imagery via eyes. A mention of cannibalism, though no actual portrayal of such. And finally, an ink creature. This art is intended to be a form of horror art, even if it seems mild (and please don’t complain if it’s not scary enough to you).

Yes I know you can put trigger warnings in the tags, but I also like to be upfront if not a little blatant. I’m not one to take risks when it comes to accidentally triggering someone.

With all that out of the way, I created some concept doodles for Vexed (or otherwise Uproar-afflicted) Sackpeople! I love playing around with the idea of them and they are a thing that is (very) relevant to the plot of my AU. I’ve seen a couple others' ideas for Vexed Sackfolk, but I wanted to throw in my own ideas of what they would look like visually. Feel free to save this image and use it as inspiration, reference, or even to show your friends (please don’t remove the credit at the top if you do)! As well as that, please do throw in your own ideas, designs, and additions to what I’ve already made! I would love to see what you all make of this :]

Image description: Six sketches depicting Sackpeople with unusual, uncanny, or downright scary traits. At the top of the image there is writing saying "all of these concepts CAN be combined". The first (top left) one's mouth and zip intersect, causing the zip to function as part of their mouth. It's vaguely reminiscent of a creature from Stranger Things, or an SCP. The writing at the side says "zip extends into/is part of mouth (kinda looks like an scp tbh)", then "probably the spookiest one here", "imagine this thing trying to bite you". The second (top middle) Sackperson has a second mouth between their chest and belly, inspired by the Impostor from Among Us. They have an angry or hungry (hangry?) expression and are slightly hunched over. The writing says "among us impostor (i'm serious the concept goes hard)", "would probably eat another sackling if vex wanted them to", and then "imagine the terror when they succumb to the uproar and their chest/belly opens up into a new mouth". The third (top right) Sackling is a confused looking werewolf. The writing says "uproar induced therianthropy* (the uproar turns them into an animal)" (at the bottom of the page there is "*the mythological condition, not the identity"), "looks cute but will probably rip someone to shreds", and then "doesn't necessarily have to be lycanthropy/werewolves". The fourth (bottom left) Sackperson has 12 eyes, 7 on their face and 5 on their chest. This design is intended to evoke trypophobia, which is defined as the fear of clustered holes, though in my experience it can extend to any cluster of circular shapes. The writing says "eyes.", "you cannot beat them in a staring contest", "yippie trypophobia", and then "they could be spies. the eyes of vex. think about it". The fifth (bottom middle) Sackling looks mostly normal, save for their full set of teeth which is reminiscent of Bob Velseb from Spooky Month. The writing says "teeth.", "idk about you I think sackpeople with full sets of teeth can look really uncanny (not always, but enough to include it here)", and then "I may be a little inspired by spooky month". The sixth and final (bottom right) Sackperson is covered in liquid Uproar, which resembles tar or black ink. It also leaks from their eyes and mouth. The writing says "goop/ink", "I was thinking of flight rising but you could also say bendy and the ink machine", "liquid uproar everywhere. very messy. they have an easy time spreading it though", and then "screw the stereotypes. be edgy. we are cringe but we are free", the latter of which I think sums up this entire post.

[bxtchy-bxtch]

The Owl House has left me feeling empty :')

I have so many thoughts and I need to put them somewhere. This is just me listing every moment in this episode that brought out an intense emotion from me. This list is also an excellent way to feel like you've watched the entire episode if you haven't watched it because I was screaming throughout so the list is essentially just a recap :D

Spoilers for the last ep!

1. The opening sequence nearly made me cry

2. Even though the fandom predicted that the Collector would turn to good because of friendship, it was still done beautifully

3. Luz's poofing into light did make me cry

4. CAMILLA CRYING AS A PUPPET EVEN THOUGH SHE HAD NO IDEA WHAT JUST HAPPENED BROKE ME

5. EDA AND KING'S RAGE HOLY SHIT THAT'S THE MOST POWERFUL THEY'VE EVER BEEN.

And them telling Collector to stay away

And them holding onto the last bit of Luz left

6. King's parent making it clear that they're a parent. I loved that. It reminded me of flowers that self pollinate :D

And you know what? I love that they chose to show this because this is a magical universe and mammal-like beings can self pollinate and lay eggs. I love it. 12/10 decision. It was a good reminder of the fact that this universe is fictional and it doesn't need to adhere to our rules.

7. King's dad in general. His attire. The pun. The parental protectiveness. The advice and simple-yet-extremely-effective approach to morality.

8. LUZ. CHOOSING. HERSELF. AFTER SEEING HER SELF ESTEEM CRASH AND BURN, HER CHOOSING HERSELF IS SUCH A BIG DEAL AND I LOVED IT SO MUCH

9. The battle. Eda being a good teacher and knowing exactly what her student was struggling with. King and Luz's amplified 'weh'. THEM FIGHTING TOGETHER. My heart cannot handle this show, I was screaming

10. THE COLLECTOR 😭

11. Amity being a fucking badass and freeing herself

12. Camilla telling everyone to take a break to deal with their burnout :D

13. CAMILLA HANDING THEM GLYPHS

14. FORGOT TO MENTION THIS EARLIER BUT RAINE BEING AN ABSOLUTE FUCKING BADASS THROUGHOUT? God I could feel my crush on them grow tenfold with every scene that they were in

15. The titan's hand reaching to the sky O_O

16. HER SPEECH 🥺💜

17. THE EXTENDED END CREDIT SCENE WAS GREAT

18. THE GLYPH AND PICTURES ON HER WALL

19. LUZ TAKING EVERY MAJOR IMAGINABLE. AND THE FACT THAT SHE ISN'T GOING TO HUMAN UNI

20. LUZ'S PIERCINGS. AND HER HAIR. AND THE FLAPJACK TATTOO THAT WILLOW HAS AS WELL. HER ENTIRE STYLE THIS EPISODE HAS BEEN IMPECCABLE. I LOVED THE GOTH WITCH TRANSFORMATION

21. Willow and Hunter being confirmed :D

22. FLAPJACK'S GRAVE

23. AMITY'S. HAIR. THE UNDERCUT. MY TWO GAY BABIES

24. Speaking of gay babies, I loved the two kisses we got this episode AND Darius×Alador bit that was implied :D

25. King Genera and Pain-yata. Yes. Precisely.

26. THE NEW GLYPH LANGUAGE IS VERY PRETTY :DDD

LUZ HAS SOMEONE TO TALK TO (IN MAGIC) AGAIN :DDDDD

27. I loved seeing my found family be happy 🥺

28. Bonus: the mention of a Lilith spinoff has me hoping for a Lilith spinoff 🥺

29. All the reunions destroyed me btw. All of them.

30. Raine and Eda's little wink at the end 🥺

31. HEADMASTER EDA. FUCK YEAH

32. Amity and Lilith's relationship. Darius and Eberwolf and Hunter. I love it when older people take younger people under their wing and care for them the way they deserve

I'm going to miss this show so much. Dana and their team did such an amazing job, and I hope they're as proud of their work as we are of them 💜

[tutuwatz]

Hello! My name is Tutuwatz. I‘m a first time writer, here to share anything from ideas and concepts to artwork and short insights.

My project, „City Of Eternity“ follows two central protagonists, Amon and Abeba, who navigate their way through the ancient world, delving into the life in Rome around 120 AD.

Additionally, I‘ve added some concept art of all three mentioned characters. Feel free to check them out.

But let‘s not linger on the details! Here, take a look at one of my passages and immerse yourself in a time and place long gone.

Author’s Note: City of Eternity shifts between the perspectives of Amon and Abeba, offering different viewpoints of the struggles they face in Rome. This passage is told from Abeba’s perspective as she deals with the aftermath of a brutal fight she witnessed in the Amphitheatre.

Disclaimer:

All content, including writing and artwork, belongs to me (Tutuwatz). Please do not repost, copy, or use any part of my work without permission. Sharing with proper credit is appreciated.

Abeba pushed through the endless ocean of people, struggling to see anything as her tears blurred her vision.

She knew it. She knew it would happen. Sooner or later, it had to. And now the time had come. And yet, she didn’t want to believe it. It couldn’t be. Her sobs were drowned out by the cheers and laughter of the people around her, all indifferent to her shattering heart.

Finally, she broke through to the exit, spilling out into the crowded street of the city plaza.

Her eyes darted back to the colosseum, searching its outer walls for the entrance to the barracks.

It couldn’t be. Amon hadn’t just died. It was too quick, too unspectacular to be real.

She found the double doors that led down to the underground section of the amphitheatre. With no hesitation, she dashed towards it, her arms extending out to push the doors open.

But as she came up to the entrance of the barracks, an arm shot towards Abeba and grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her back with a sudden force.

“I need to see him!” Abeba cried, turning to the guard clad in armor who stood beside the entrance. His gaze was indifferent, completely oblivious to what Abeba was feeling.

“Who are you, woman?” he questioned, trying to hold Abeba still as she frantically gesticulated toward the barracks.

“I’m…” she began, struggling to catch her breath as she sobbed uncontrollably. It was all too overwhelming. She had to see Amon. Why couldn’t anyone understand?

“Where’s Amon!?” she shouted louder than intended, her voice breaking slightly as the guard gave her a stunned expression.

“Femina!” he urged, struggling to stay still as Abeba flailed intensely. “Stop squirming-!”

But Abeba’s whimpers only grew more desperate the longer she stayed still, knowing that Amon was elsewhere—whether alive or not.

No injury, not a single one, had been as vile as this one. The sight of the pool of blood, Amon’s distant cries, and the ensuing silence as he went limp all pressed down on her. She felt cornered, as if she were utterly alone in this moment.

Abeba stumbled back after being shoved by the guard. She had tried to push the doors open, though she knew they were locked.

Her dread and sorrow turned into fury as her tear-streaked face shifted into one of anger.

“Open the doors!” she demanded, her voice now ringing over the crowd around her.

The guard only regarded her, his own face slowly tensing in frustration as his patience ran short.

“Clear out!” he rang back, pointing at Abeba with one hand as he held his spear firmly in the other.

Abeba stood there a moment, her tears still flowing freely as she stared at the guard, the one obstacle hindering her from seeing Amon.

She took a shaky breath and wiped her tears, trying to compose herself, though the thoughts in the back of her mind made calmness an impossibility.

“The Egyptian Crocodile…” Abeba began in a pleading voice.

“…My husband…” she lied, her eyes searching the guard’s for any sympathy.

“I must see him.”

The guard gazed at her for another moment, his cold expression flickering for just a heartbeat.

“I cannot allow anyone entry at this time. Your husband will be with you when he is ready,” he explained in a calmer voice.

“He was impaled with a spear, you fool!” Abeba retaliated, furrowing her brows deeply as her desperation boiled over once more. Her heart sank at her own words, as if they solidified what had happened.

In spite of the insult, the guard didn’t react. His eyes didn’t narrow, and his expression remained painfully indifferent.

“You have to tell me…” Abeba choked out.

“Is he dying…?”

The guard looked down at the ground for a moment, as if seeking to avoid the conversation.

“I do not know,” he replied shortly.

Abeba had to hold in a whimper with her hands, her eyes welling up with tears again.

“Please, Gods, no…” she whispered in a high pitch.

Her knees began to tremble. Just a few hours ago, she was beside Amon, giving him kisses and hugging him tightly. And now, he was in those cold barracks, injured and bleeding, if not worse.

The crowd around Abeba began to chatter even louder than before as they moved to the other end of the amphitheatre. They brushed by her, pushing Abeba along with them as she struggled to evade their wildly swinging arms. She didn’t stand a chance resisting the flow of the masses, no matter how much she fought against the stream. Before she knew it, Abeba was in the middle of a horde, left with no choice but to follow in the direction they were headed.

She heard the distant creaking of a wooden gate, though the people around her made it hard to see anything. Then, the crowd cheered loudly, clapping their hands as a familiar chant ensued:

“Mi-no-taur! Mi-no-taur! Mi-no-taur!”

After weaving through a group of looming spectators, Abeba finally broke through to the very front of the crowd.

“Jupiter, hear the Minotaur’s roar, a warrior we greatly adore. He never stops—he wants more. On the sand, the blood will pour!”

The Capuan citizens roared their song as a looming figure emerged from the dark gates.

It was the Capuan Minotaur, still clad in full armor, his metallic helmet shimmering amidst the sunset behind them. There was a bandage around his waist for the cut on his side, and his weapons were being carried by a pair of guards behind him.

He spread his arms out wide as if wanting to embrace the entire audience that jeered for him. Then, he unbuckled the straps of his helmet and slowly pulled it off, revealing the face that lurked underneath it all this time.

Abeba’s eyes widened with surprise as she took in the sight.

The Capuan Minotaur had a full, black, bushy beard and a bald head. A pair of almond-shaped, fiery green eyes gleamed with pride as they took in the people around him. His nose, broad and pressed close to his face, flared with excitement as he opened his mouth to speak.

“My heart races!” his commanding voice declared loudly above all the other people. His expression was jovial as his lips curved into a grotesque smile.

“I felt the thunder! The rush flowing through my veins!”

His voice was laced with enthusiasm, as if this was something he had long sought. There was the faint outline of an artery popping out at the side of his neck as he shouted, completely lost in the thrill of victory.

Abeba didn’t even notice how she furrowed her brows with deep resentment, balling her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Her overwhelming fear turned into deep animosity as she gazed into the eyes of this careless brute, basking in the glory without a shimmer of regret behind his expression. He had fatally injured Amon, and for what? The crowd didn’t demand it, and Abeba was sure that what he did went against the rules of combat within the colosseum.

And yet, the Minotaur stood before her with a wide grin and countless adoring fans.

The men patted his shoulders as he walked by them. The women cast amused glances right at his frame. And Abeba had just stepped into the middle of the crowd, standing merely a few paces away from the mighty figure.

“You…You disgusting brute!” she rang out from behind him.

The moment the words had left her mouth, she felt a pang of regret hit her like a punch to the face. Most of the crowd went silent as they cleared away, leaving Abeba and the Minotaur in the center.

He turned to Abeba slowly, his arms dropping to his sides as his poison-green eyes glared down at her.

He was much taller than her—taller than Amon, even. It felt like she shrank down to the size of a mouse as he stepped toward her, his expression surprised but amused.

Abeba felt her heart skip a beat, but she didn’t break eye contact. She stared back at him, her face tensed with the same disgust that she voiced in her words.

“You wanted to kill him!” she exclaimed loudly, pointing at the Minotaur with a shaky hand.

“You didn’t have to do that! You didn’t! He surrendered!” she shouted, her emotions running wild, leaving no room for rational fear or intimidation.

The Minotaur mustered Abeba from head to toe, his confident smile fading slightly as he listened to her words.

A new wave of tears rolled down her cheeks as she went on.

“You—you degenerate filth!”

A moment of silence followed, broken only by the muttering of the people around them.

Then, the Minotaur’s smile returned, and his eyes softened with a carelessness that only exacerbated Abeba’s fury.

“And you are…?” he asked, scratching his beard with a light chuckle, joined by a few others around him.

Abeba took a shaky breath, wrapping her arms around herself as she felt the gaze of everyone around them press in on her.

“You didn’t have to do it!” she cried once more.

It didn’t matter anymore. Her credibility, her reputation, it was all irrelevant now. This man, this monster, had taken the most important thing in her life away from her. And it burned in her chest like fire.

The Minotaur regarded her for another moment, his grin never wavering.

“Perhaps I did you a favor, then,” he replied.

“A gladiator’s woman!”

His call went out to the crowd around them. They chimed in with increasing laughter, each cackle reinforcing the Minotaur’s malice.

Abeba remained frozen still, her sorrow and rage just barely contained. The Minotaur stepped closer to her, throwing a shadow over her as his eyes darted between her and the amphitheater.

“Must’ve been a grand pleasure, watching your Amon come home every day with a new scar. You two must enjoy feeding off each other’s miserable lives,” he muttered so that only she could hear.

“Miserable…?” she repeated through her clenched teeth.

“What do you have? A crowd of sheep? You can’t understand the damage you’ve done. No one here cares about the man underneath the armor. You’re no one, don’t you see that?”

Her words were deadly, her voice low and overcome with a mixture of dread and rage. She was cornered, and now she had to bite back.

The Minotaur’s amused expression faltered. For just a moment, he seemed beaten, as if Abeba’s words hit something that Amon’s sword could not. Something buried very, very deep within his pride and adoration.

Abeba noticed it quickly, how his strength faded, the way his condescending demeanor died like an insect she had stomped on. And she was happy to have crushed it.

He furrowed his thick brows slightly, crumpling his nose like a snarling dog. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Then, after a few speechless breaths, he finally raised his finger, pointing right at her.

“Do you see anyone here weeping over your lover?” he questioned quietly.

“I’m a man the citizens of Rome will celebrate and remember. There’s no greater honor than that.”

Abeba was shaken. She couldn’t even think of a response as she struggled to calm her breathing. The way he talked made it sound like Amon was truly gone. But he couldn’t be.

He leaned down toward her slightly, his face darkening in the shade.

“And you’re scaring away all the citizens,” he said, turning on his heels and walking toward a carriage at the far end of the crowd.

Abeba watched with silent resentment as the Minotaur reached into the window of his private wagon, a luxurious box carried by two white horses with trimmed tails.

He retrieved a small sack of coins and tossed it at the guard standing behind Abeba, who caught it in his hands.

“Let her downstairs,” he said to the guard, as if he were in charge.

“That’ll quiet her down, make her less fussy.”

The guard glanced at the sack filled with coins shortly, weighing it in his palm before stuffing it into one of his back pockets.

“This way,” he murmured to Abeba.

She didn’t move for a moment, her eyes still fixed on the Minotaur. But then she remembered where the guard would be leading her: to Amon.

Without another word spoken, she wiped her tears and turned to swiftly follow the guard, who pressed through the mass of people around them toward the gates of the underground barracks.

[thetldrplace]

Excerpts from James Mill's Elements of Political Economy- Marx (1844)

I probably dived more into this section than any other because it covers some of the foundational arguments for Marxism. Unlike some of the other sections where I more or less reproduced the text with little commentary, this contains a LOT of my own commentary mixed in with the summary of the text. I haven't bothered trying to summarize the entire thing point by point. I really just wanted to analyze the arguments.

Summary Money, wage-labor, credit, and banking are all forms of human alienation. They transform man from a real living individual into an abstract caricature of his true self. The system of exchange transforms man from a real living individual into an abstract caricature of his true self. The system of exchange is social intercourse not between men, but between men as things of value, that is, an alienated form of social intercourse.  

Finally, Marx expounds his positive ideas on labor as the free expression of human nature, based on love and mutual affirmation.

Text Marx questions Mill's economic laws, which he says don't really capture the whole. As such, the laws Mill describes aren't really laws at all. The only true law, Marx says, is chance.

Marx says Mill correctly sums up the matter when he calls money the medium of exchange. Marx says the very fact of this medium is what estranges man from the products he makes. Money turns him into a lost, dehumanized creature. Man is no longer the mediator with other men, thus his slavery reaches a climax.

Separated from the mediator, money, objects lose their worth, because now, they only have value insofar as they represent him, whereas he used to represent them. (?)

Credit Marx mentions two situations where credit is conceivable. The first is a rich man extends credit to a poor man whom he regards as industrious. From there, Marx says "the poor man's life, his talent and his labors serve the rich man as a guarantee that the money he has lent will be returned. The totality of the poor man's social  virtues, the content of his life's activity, his very existence, represent for the rich man the repayment of his capital with interest. We should reflect on the immorality implicit in the evaluation of a man in terms of money, such as we find in the credit system."  

Except it was Marx who decided that rather than just the poor guy needing to pay back money he borrowed, it was the “totality of the poor man's social  virtues, the content of his life's activity, his very existence" that was wrapped up in this... and then we are told to reflect on the immorality in the system. This is fairly common in Marx's assertions. He defines this relationship in the worst possible terms, then declares it immoral.

In the second instance, which is credit lent to a man with means, Marx asserts that credit is the "economic judgment on the morality of a man." I find very little reason to accept that Marx's assertions about the deeper meaning of credit are true.  

The Ideal Society Marx has an ideal that he is after. People make products with their own hands, which makes them "human products" and exchange them directly with others, which is social activity and social enjoyment, and this is the true essence of man in true community. Man, in fact, is not truly man unless he is useful in his community.  

There is something to this, I agree. We are communal and we are meant to be in communion with others. But Marx feels that unless we do things the way he says would work best, it's all "estrangement" and "alienation". I don't see any justification for this.

Private Property Of private property, Marx says economics begins with the relations between men as relations between private property owners. If we assume that private property is man's personal, distinguishing, and hence essential existence- then it follows that the loss of that private property is the alienation of the man as much as the property itself.

So to follow along, the private property that men own can be any commodity that is "theirs". I own a bike, it's my property, not community property. So what justification is there for assuming that bike is my personal, distinguishing, and essential existence? Suppose we exchange modern man for prehistoric man, and the bike the modern man bought for a canoe the prehistoric man built, which, in Marx's ideal world, prehistoric man could exchange in a social setting and be his true human self.... why is the canoe that belongs to prehistoric man not be recast as his essential existence, while the modern man's bike is? Of course, neither are. But there is some mystical logic going on in Marx's mind to draw such conclusions. "If we assume..." He says... but what justification is there for assuming such a thing, which doesn't seem to follow at all from the facts on the ground.

He follows this up with a situation where the man cedes his property to another, presumably, for example, he sells his bike. Marx calls this: externalizing or alienating the man's private property.  

Well.... he sold it, so it isn't his any longer... so I guess that's one way of putting it. Marx asks, "how do I ever come to alienate my property to another?  Need. The other man has something I lack, but which I neither can, nor will, dispense with, which I need to complete my own existence and to realize my own essence."

So, in case you haven't guessed it, the thing the other has that I lack is money. Because I sold the bike.... and the guy paid for it. Clearly, I decided I'd rather have the money than the bike, so we traded. This simple transaction is recast in the most dire terms. I've alienated my private property for something that I need to complete my own existence and realize my essence. My god, that sounds monstrous, when all I did was sell my bike for a fair price.

If I were to give Marx the benefit of the doubt, maybe, in this harsh pitiless world, I was forced by hunger and need to sell my bike, in order to find my next meal. Ok. Why is that any different from prehistoric man making things and trading them to others for his subsistence? Marx, at root, seems to be taking issue with the fact that we need to provide food and shelter for ourselves by working. But when has that ever NOT been the case?

Marx sees the personally produced and traded model of society as more personal, and therefore more human. I can grant there is something to that. But none of that abolishes the need of man to work for his bread and shelter. While Marx might prefer that society be run in a more primitive way, that's only his preference, it shouldn’t be foisted on everyone else because he feels it is better.

Consumption In his comments on consumption, Marx writes: the fundamental premise of private property is that man produces only to have. Production has a useful aim and a selfish aim- he produces only to have something for himself and the gratification of his own needs. OMG!  

Later, Marx makes the statement that our mutual value is the value of our mutual objects. For us, therefore, man himself is worthless. C'mon, Marx. I sell my bike to a guy for $300. Our concern with each other, IN THE TRANSACTION, is the bike and the money, but that doesn't mean we consider each other 'worthless'.  

Wage-Labor In his paragraphs on wage-labor, one of the most important foundations of Marxism, he makes the assertion that when products are sold for an exchange medium (money), then labor is converted to wage-labor. In wage-labor, the worker has no direct relation to the product. This should perhaps be compared to what Marx sees as the ideal. We as humans make produce something with our hands. This affirms both ourselves, as well as our neighbor, because in producing something, I used my own specific character and individuality to produce it. It is an expression of my own individual life, and in making it, I can derive pleasure. And in your use of my product, I have the satisfaction that my product is meeting a fellow human's need. That would be labor that has a social benefit. Wage labor, on the other hand, provides the worker only with money. But he is divorced from the product and the humans that will use the product. It is this alienation that Marx sees as untenable in modern society.

Again, I will grant that there is something nice to Marx's ideal. In fact, there are lots of small businesses within modern society that labor to produce something more personal on that level.  

Marx has the notion that we should abolish private property, have everyone work producing something they love, and then freely exchange according to needs. But of course, the problem is knowing what should be produced with the limited resources available in any community. Communism needs a central planning committee that will decide the allocation of resources, capitalism requires a free market to do so.

[rubistella]

Regulations

Private & Selective Owing to time constraints and the demanding nature of roleplay, I'm highly selective about whom I write with, as I firmly believe in valuing quality over quantity.

This is not a self-insert/projection friendly zone The title says it all! Projection and self-inserts make me very uncomfortable, so I will terminate interactions immediately if I catch whiff of that.

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Adults Only (21+) Given the mature and dark themes my writing frequently explores, as well as Astarion's past, this roleplay blog is not suitable for minors. I personally prefer that only those 21 or older engage. Every potentially triggering content and/or interaction will be put under tw; dddne and "ask to tag" for blacklisting purposes.

Astarion & Headcanons My portrayal of Astarion will stay unfiltered. For more details, click here. Also, please don’t assume Astarion will choose your muse— there are other people in camp (NPCs) he could be feeding from, or other plot devices we could use instead.

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The Mun I'm Milky, 21+. I like cats, tea, a good book and playing video games with my friends. Even if we can't, for whatever reason, roleplay together, feel free to send Astarion IC asks or approach me OOC for a chat. :) Toodles!

Ship Exclusives I won't always extend exclusivity to ship partners, and by no means do I force anyone into that position. While not all my ship partners fall under the exclusive category, for those with whom I do ship exclusively, it’s been mutually agreed-upon beforehand. For transparency's sake, here is the list!

[lalunanymph]

↳ a very yakuza christmas

summary. injured after an ambush from a rival gang, Mikey finds himself stranded on a local farm with a girl who shows him the true meaning of this holiday season and what it means to finally let all his walls down.

pairings. bonten!mikey x farmer!reader + all of bonten makes an appearance

genre. hallmark christmas feel good romance, kinda a reversed crash landing on you 

overall warnings. fluff, angst, explicit sex, language, mentions of weapons, mild crack, injuries, mention of strippers, Bonten works on a farm, suggestive content, canon typical violence, off screen death, male objectification, romance, christmas themes 

a/n. I wanted to end this year with something fluffy and sweet as a big thanks to all of you for sticking around with my little writing blog <3 ALSO! a huge wet kith to my irl sibling @neetro for helping me give life to this idea bc mikey deserves his happily ever. merry christmas, everyone 💓 (psst feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated!)

wc. ~ 27,000+

listen to. i need you christmas- jonas brothers • luxurious - gwen stefani • here i am again - yerin baek

Bastards.

A false lead. That was what found the stoic, powerful and indomitable Sano Manjiro in the middle of a 30 men free-for-all; blows, punches and kicks delivered swiftly but not swift enough that their faces blended in a mash of jeers and leers. His limbs weighed tiredly by his side, and despite how much he tried to reign in his exhaustion, the Bonten leader was fatigued from the stream of violence that just would not stop.

They had cornered him at his weakest, and he could tell how the fight would turn out—most likely with a mortal wound on his end and these bastards going scot-free, bragging about how the mythical unstoppable Bonten leader had folded to a bunch of small town hillbillies.

“He puts up one hell of a fight, huh,” one of the country hicks chortled, swiping some blood from his broken nose where Mikey had managed to land a debilitating blow. “Let’s sweep him up, boys.”

Attacking him all at once, Mikey felt for the first time in his life a powerlessness that pervaded every pore in his body; not even being surrounded by a hundred men with only Draken at his side during his delinquent days could match to the bleakness he was currently experiencing.

The last thing he felt before white-hot pain lanced through his head was a glob of spittle hacked onto his face, dripping down his swollen eyes that slipped shut on their own as the world around him started to fade into black.

Let’s finish him.

In his mind’s eye, he saw Shinichiro smiling, arms wide open to receive him. Emma and Baji were there too, giving him understanding beams that spoke volumes of you’ve fought the good fight, Mikey.

But where was the good in what he did? He was Sano Manjiro, leader of the worst criminal organization in all of Japan, second only to the devil incarnate for all the lives he had stolen and snuffed out because of his dark impulses.

He was tired. He was ready to leave this all behind.

So, this is the end, huh?

Peering up at the clear sky, it was dipped in tones of inky blue and speckled with stars. Closing his eyes, Mikey did something he had never done since he was a boy—he made a wish on those celestial lights.

Before the darkness fully consumed him, he noticed a lone shooting star arcing across the heavens, that one small occurrence enough to reassure him that it was safe to finally surrender himself to the nothingness.

Sano Manjiro closed his eyes to the world around him and never opened them again for hours to come.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

“I’m sorry, but we can’t extend your line of credit anymore.”

Disappointment could not even cover how you truly felt. In the quiet bank where the murmurings of other employees could be heard, your heartbeat was the loudest in your ears. The words past due jumped out like a warning sign from the financial statements, bleeding into your consciousness with the precision of a fine-edged knife.

“Please,” you whispered, glancing at the man before you. He had been your father’s best friend and the person who had witnessed him sign your grandfather’s will to inherit the farm. He had seen you sign that same paper many years later and now… now, he sat across from you with a grimace, unable to even look you in the eye. “Iwata-san, I just need to hold on till Christmas.”

“Y/N, as your creditor and family friend, I would strongly advise you against an extension,” he kissed his teeth, his lined face scrawled with sorrow. “I’m sorry but have you thought of selling the farm?”

Pushing back in your chair, you twisted your fingers together and shook your head. “I can’t do that, Iwata-san.” You gave him a weak smile, “you know I could never do that.”

“Your father would understand, y’know,” he advised sagely, strongly reminiscent of how your own dad used to lecture you before his untimely passing. “He wouldn’t hold it against you if you decided to sell it.”

You were shaking your head before he was even finished with his suggestion. “That farm has been run by generations of L/N’s for so many years—I refuse to let it end with me.”

Sighing, there was nothing the older man could do but give you an apologetic smile. But, you pushed further, imploring him by wrapping your hands together in a gesture of supplication, your eyes wide and shining. “C’mon, Iwata-san—it’s Christmas for Pete’s sake! Just… until the 31st, okay? I’ll figure something out to get us back in the green.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and glanced at you; your puppy-eyed expression reminding him of your theatrics back when you were a little girl, especially whenever you desperately desired something. Eventually, he sighed and nodded. “Fine, but this is the last extension I can grant you, Y/N,” he warned and stood up, a genial smile in place when he noticed you quickly covering up your relief with a sobering nod.

“Thank you, Iwata-san,” you mumbled, bowing your head. “I owe you for this.”

“Consider it my Christmas gift,” he chortled.

After passing you the relevant paperwork, you took a few minutes to sit in your car, listening to the radio and breathing in deeply to ward off the shimmering tears in your eyes. The peace didn’t last long. There was a loud knock on your window and your blood froze when a freckled smile peered through the glass.

“Miss Y/N?”

They surrounded your car, and you had no choice but to swallow your fear; even in broad daylight, the Black Diamonds had no fear of repercussion or the law—the most notorious gang in Kawagoe were known for their brutal methods of collecting money from the residents as well as the fights they regularly got in with other gangs in the city.

Deciding that it would be easier to face it head-on rather than gunning your car and tearing away where they would just follow you back to your farm and things could get even uglier, you stepped out of your vehicle. The one with the freckles gave you a sympathetic smile that did not touch his eyes. “Were you crying earlier, lady?”

“What do you want?” You dashed the remaining tears from your eyes and fixed them with a glare; trying to look tougher than you were.

They were undeterred, some of them even amused at your paltry attempt at showing no fear. For a gang that terrorized the neighborhood, they sure did not seem like locals; heavy chains looped around their necks, cigarettes dangled from bloody fingers and identical manic grins spread across their faces.

“You’re late on this month’s payment.”

Not only did you have to pay the bank back the backlog of finances your family farm’s owned, but you had to also deal with the debt he incurred from the local loan sharks to keep his farm afloat. These men may be gangsters, but they wouldn’t dare hurt someone in broad daylight.

Right?

Glancing around, your heart sank when you realized you were resolutely alone. The parking lot was empty and whoever was hanging around did not want to get in between the crossfire of pissing off the Black Diamonds. You were frozen to the spot, facing them with nothing but your dwindling courage as a friend.

“I don’t have the money.”

Before you were even done speaking, the leader shook his head. “Not a good enough reason.”

“It’s winter and tourists are rare; please,” you were begging now for them to understand your financial situation. You could barely afford to feed yourself, so how could you even pay them back for the month? It had been weeks since you last had meat for dinner and you were literally hanging by a thread.

But, these men did not care. They did not care if you cried yourself to sleep every night from the sheer hopelessness of running a farm all on your own. They did not care if you scrambled to save every penny and couldn’t even buy yourself new clothes this year for Christmas. All they cared about was the interests that kept on piling up no matter how many envelopes of cash you plied them with to keep them off your back.

Interests that racked up day by day to form an amount you could not even fathom.

Nine million yen. That was how much your father had owed the men before his passing where he placed you as a co-sign for the loan. Now that he was gone, where else could these men find their misplaced funds besides harassing you?

Swallowing hard, you tried not to break down in tears, adopting a hard glare. “I just paid off last month’s interests last week. I don’t have enough.”

One of them scoffed and shoved your shoulder. They kept on pushing you and you stumbled back, nearly tripping on your shoelaces when your back met the car hood. Suddenly finding yourself in a compromising position, you snapped your legs shut and bit down hard on your cheek to keep from crying.

“If you can’t afford to pay us, maybe you can use your body instead,” one of them suggested lewdly, raking his gaze up and down your figure. “You have a fantastic rack, lady. Shame that it would be put to waste in overalls.”

Apparently having their fill of tormenting you, they dispersed as soon as they arrived, the freckled leader waving his hand in the air with a loud, “One more week, and then we’ll come and find you again, yeah? I’m being generous here.”

It was close to evening time and the stars were already out. You settled back into your car, straightening your jacket that had almost slipped off your shoulders during the mild altercation. Sorrow and panic threatening to swallow you deeply, you peeled your eyes to the sparkling heavens that only the countryside could provide, turning the radio down to drink in the sight of the constellations.

“I really need your help, papa,” you sniffed, lachrymose eyes swelling and dripping tears. All those months of holding everything together for the sake of your sole inheritance were gnawing at you and you let your walls fall; allowing yourself to truly let the future that awaited your family’s farm sink in. “I’m going to lose our farm if I don’t get a miracle a-and I’m going to die if I don’t pay back those loan sharks.”

The tears slipped down faster. “W-why did you do this to me, papa? Did you not love me?” Heaving sobs were wracking through your frame.  “Why did you do this to me?!” You were screaming and sobbing now, hanging your head down to cry your eyes out. “I did nothing to deserve this! I…” Lifting your head, you stared back at the stars, snot running down your face and your voice hoarse from the harsh cries you had expelled. “Help me. Please. Send me a sign that I am not alone. It’s the least you can do after all the hell you’ve put me through.”

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Your breath caught when you noticed a single shooting star blazing through the skies, putting the other constellations to shame. Unbidden, a manic giggle burst forth from your lips, and somehow, this uncanny occurrence lessened the loneliness inside of your chest.

“Okay,” you sniffed and nodded, despite there not being anyone to witness your childish desperation at attempting to find a solution to this problem. “I trust you; I’ll hold on.”

Wiping the last of your tears away, you drove back home slowly, lost in your thoughts. The roads were darkening, dusk falling swiftly into the night, you almost did not see the body of a silver-haired young man on the side of the road.

Breath caught in your lungs, you swiftly stopped the car and ran out. There was no rhyme or reason why you were compelled to help this unknown man, falling to your knees beside him. “Sir? Sir? Hello—are you alright?!”

Pressing your fingers into his neck, you were relieved to feel a pulse point; it was weak, but he was still alive. The man was heavy, but you were so used to lugging around sacks of feed that it was a short struggle to bring him into the back of your car. He was pale, with alabaster smooth skin and dark circles, his silver hair almost ethereal in the half-light.

You would’ve thought he was an angel fallen from heaven if it weren’t for the blood soaking his black shirt and running down his forehead. There was no time to think; you had to save him. The hospital was too far away and your farm with its medicine and first aid kit was the closest.

“Hold on, sir,” you told his lifeless body through the rearview as a wave of worry drowned all sense of rationalism at picking up random, bloodied men from the side of the road. “Just hold on for me, okay? I’ll save you.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Prying open his eyes, Mikey ignored the splitting headache that pounded in the back of his lids.

For a second, he could neither feel, smell nor hear anything around him beyond his ragged breath. There was somebody breathing down hard on him and he turned his face away, only to feel a rough strip of what seemed like sandpaper brushing up his cheek. It was when the scent of manure hit him—potent and ripe—that it knocked him back into consciousness. He pried his eyes wide open as far as they could go, pupils dilating to the sight of a pair of pink nostrils dominating his vision.

Mikey liked to pretend that he was impenetrable; that he did not have much of a reaction to fear, unlike many other men. But when faced with the slanted eyes of a goat bearing down on him, he released a shriek loud enough to pierce his own ears and scrambled back up, scaring the animal who huffed in surprise. The blanket around his chest tangled with his limbs and in his haste, he did not notice a small pot on the floor and kicked it, sending it careening to the other end of the room where it shattered into tiny clay constellations on the concrete floor.

What the fuck—!

“Jiji!”

Utterly befuddled, Mikey whipped his head to the door to find a young woman in a pair of denim overalls over a colorful striped shirt, standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at the white knobhead who had woken him up with just its scent alone. Her lips were downturned in a frown and she tapped her foot impatiently. “Didn’t I tell you to leave our guest alone to rest?”

Guest?

As if the goat actually understood her, it maa-ed and trotted over to her side; if an animal could look reticent, this one did, hanging its shaggy head down and bumping her thigh in silent apology.

“I am so sorry, sir. Jiji does not have any boundaries when it comes to people,” was the sweet melodious voice that filled his ears and apparently, made him even more confused than he already was.

Which begged the question…

“Where am I?” Mikey’s voice was quiet, and though he sounded calm to an untrained ear, there was a veneer of unease that was apparent in his tone. The woman before him was young—probably younger than him—and she startled, blinking once, twice before tilting her head to the side.

“Oh—um, you’re in my home,” you informed and widened your eyes at the sight of the broken pot. “Wait, did you do that?”

Mikey winced but did not answer, preferring to take stock of his surroundings. The walls were painted a neutral eggshell white and bare, decorated only with a small window that overlooked a sea of greenery; he had absolutely no idea where he was. Fumbling for the Glock he kept tucked in his waistband, he found that it was gone. Frowning, he snapped his eyes towards you and bared his teeth.

“Did you touch my gun?” Patting his chest, his cheeks warmed at the fact that he was shirtless.  

“Oh.” Rather than seeming embarrassed at his sudden lapse of silence, you offered an explanation. “Your shirt was covered with blood so I gave it a little wash.”

Regarding him like one would regard a bug through a magnifying glass, curiosity was scrawled all over your pretty face. “What happened, by the way? I thought you were roadkill when I drove by and found you.”

Mikey eyed you warily, and if it wasn’t for the tender throbbing in his head, he would have pushed you against the wall to demand an answer. As if sensing his dark intentions, you pursed your lips and shoo-ed Jiji out of the room, closing the door behind you. Sitting down next to him on the futon, he would have quickly scooted away if it wasn’t for the concern furrowing in the dip of your brow.

“You were beaten up by the Black Diamonds, weren’t you?” was your hushed question. You didn’t wait for his answer and his onyx eyes studied how you walked over to the single dresser—polished a light walnut brown—and removed a bottle of ointment from the drawer.

Mikey didn’t brush your hand away when you touched his forehead with your medicine-stained fingers. Warmth spread from your touch gently grazing his wounds and traversed all the way down his spine to relax him against his will. “What’s your name?” you inquired of him, flashing those wide eyes that were filled with such innocent curiosity, Mikey was halfway wondering if it would be wise to let you know who he truly was.

But, he decided to test his luck and utter, “Sano Manjiro. You can call me Mikey.”

There was no spark of recognition to his name; no outward apprehension at the reality of Japan’s most wanted man under your roof. Instead, you smiled softly and nodded. “It is nice to meet you, Mikey-san. My name is L/N Y/N.”

“Y/N,” your name rolled off his tongue with ease. In a softer voice he muttered, “Thanks, by the way.”

“I would’ve taken you to the hospital but—“

Before you could finish your sentence, he shook his head, platinum blonde hair that was close to a frosty white falling across his sunken eyes. “No hospitals.”

If you were perturbed at his vehemence towards that notion, you did not show it. You stood, dusting your hands and studying his wound. “Well, in any case, the Black Diamonds won’t find you here, so you’re safe.” In your mind, you saw him as a lost young man who had found himself down a dangerous path. You had no idea who he was, but he must’ve done something horrendous to incur the wrath of the strongest gang in Kawagoe.

A part of you recognized the risk, but when you found him face down on the ground, almost thrown into a ditch with blood seeping in a puddle around him, you could not just abandon someone who needed help. You were already an oddity in this small town, so why not live up to your reputation and take in a random man who apparently crossed a horde of dangerous men?

Masking your worries, you flashed him a brilliant smile. “You’re still not well enough to walk so please rest, Mikey-san. I’ll bring you dinner and a change of clothes soon.”

“Wait—“

He had no idea what pushed him to grab your wrist, but he immediately let go when he felt you tensing. “How long was I out?”

“About three days.”

Three days…

Mikey’s gaze wavered. Holy shit. His men must’ve been wondering what happened. Brief flashes of the chase flitted through his mind; Sanzu yelling at him to not gun after that freckled asshole who led him off-trail down the highways of Kawagoe where he eventually found himself cornered into an unfair fight that brought him here… to what appeared like a random farmhouse, if he had to judge it based on the stench.

“Is it alright if I make a call?”

You studied him for a bit, how his nonchalance made you doubt his intentions. Mikey did not repeat his request, merely staring at you expectantly. It was his steady manner of staying still that finally unnerved you to agree and you nodded.

Handing him your phone, you paused, fixing him with a hard stare before he could reach out and take the device from you. “No funny business, okay?”

Adopting an air of boredom, he nodded. “Your house, your rules.”

The phone was warm in his hand when he dialed Sanzu’s number. You had closed the door and left the room to give him some privacy for this call. The dial tone clicked, he exhaled in relief to hear his second’s voice from the other end.

“Hello?”

“Haruchiyo?”

“Mikey?! Mikey—shut up, Haitani!” He heard a grunt from the other end after a loud thump and imagined Sanzu bonking Ran on the head to get him to quiet down. “Boss, where are you? We completely lost your signal and—worried—Koko—Mikey?”

“I’m in a farmhouse in Kawagoe.”

“A—what? Mikey—repeat—“

The line was sketchy at best, and Mikey pulled the phone away to find a sight that made his heart sink. One bar; where the fuck was he—on the moon? Why wasn’t there even cell reception here?

“Sanzu—can you hear me? Hello?”

“Mikey—address—hello?”

Before he could speak, the line went dead and all he could hear was his loud breathing. Setting the phone down, Mikey swallowed his disappointment at the sight of a cross on the reception bar; he was well and truly stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere in a house that smelled like the back of a cow’s ass.

A goat, he amended in his mind. There were no cows here as far as he could tell though he wasn’t looking forward to discovering if that deduction was correct. The space itself wasn’t so bad, and he roved his lazy gaze around; it was shabby but it had a certain charm of a simple village home. Shakily getting onto his feet, Mikey winced at the rush of blood flooding his ears, walking towards the window to take a gander of this new space.

As far as he could see, snow-capped mountains dotted and almost touched the sky, taking over his full attention. Rows upon rows of what looked like strawberry greenhouses stretched out towards the horizon, and there was a goat pen where more of those shaggy bastards were grazing; chickens roamed around freely, pecking the ground. There was a faucet in the far right of the farm where he found you pumping water into a wooden bucket, your back turned from him.

There was no one else with you here despite how he had the knowledge that a farm this vast needed a ton of help. So far, you were the only living soul he had encountered and he wondered where you had hidden his gun; Mikey had grievously overstayed his welcome and he needed to leave—stat.

Gathering himself, he twisted the doorknob and pushed it open, slowly creeping out of the room. The floorboards under his feet creaked with every step and he made sure to keep his footing light. There was not a single sound coming from the house beside the padding of his feet, and he felt like he was standing at the bottom of a well, listening to the faint echoes all around him.

Sneaking down the stairs, he found himself in a modest living room with one single futon and a lopsided coffee table. The house opened up to a kitchen where he caught the gleam of his gun on the wooden dining table. He quickly advanced towards it, taking the weapon and immediately feeling safer with its weight in his grasp. Tightening his hold on it, he prepared himself to face you, and should he need to—threaten you to release him.

Just as he was about to step out and seek you out, the door behind him opened and he whirled around, pressing the gun to his back and switching the safety off. But, it was just you, face flushed from the cold and sweating lightly, flashing him a grin.

“Ah, you’re a tough one, eh? Already walking around.” In your arms, you held a wicker basket full of strawberries, the vivid red and fragrant scent of the fruit tickling his nostrils; looking like rare rubies in the orange tone of evening light. Unbidden, his stomach rumbled and Mikey winced at the sound. Catching him eyeing the basket with unbridled hunger in his gaze, you chuckled and set it down on the table, too tired to notice how he shuffled backward, keeping his front to you constantly.

Humming under your breath, you picked up the chopping board and ran it under the bronze sink head, taking a knife and chopping the leafy parts off from a handful of strawberries. Setting it in a bowl, you pushed it towards him with what he was coming to discover was your signature gentle smile. “Here, try some. They’re just in season and I need a second opinion if they're good to be made into jam.”

Mikey was caught in a catch-22; half of him was screaming to leave this house while the other half was whining at him to satiate his hunger. He chose to listen to his ravenous side and plucked one juicy berry, biting into it. A burst of tangy sweetness coated his taste buds and he had to stop himself from moaning out loud like a freak. Chomping on it quickly, he reached for another one and then another and another until eventually, the bowl was empty.

He sucked on his fingers and eyed you expectantly, the sight beyond amusing to you. Your quiet chuckle made something in his chest twinge and you took the bowl from him with a teasing smile. “I suppose that means it’s sweet enough, huh?”

Mikey hummed under his breath and when you left the room for a second, he clicked the safety of his gun back on and set it back down on the table before you could even notice. Upon your return into the kitchen, you found him seated, hands folded and waiting for you with a gleam of impatience in his dark gaze.

“Dinner will be ready in just a pinch, ‘kay? Lemme start the fire.”

Mikey did not say much, watching you flit around the space with an air of utter concentration and skill; beating some eggs, pouring water into the rice cooker, making a batter to dip some shishamos in, the scent of fried fish almost heavenly and making his stomach rumble in abject hunger.

You prepared the table all while his dark, impassive gaze was on you. Despite how he had tried to hide it from you, you were very aware that the gun you had placed on the dining table was missing and that he had been debating if he should threaten you with it. You had kept your guard up, but in the end, it was for naught; the gun had returned back to its original position. Mikey was not a talker; that much you could glean from him. All he did was watch you as you ate, ignoring how a stout hen suddenly made its way into your home and you fed it a bit of your rice, cooing under your breath; you were an odd person, that was what he was sure of.

He ate quickly after a soft utterance of thank you for this meal, left his empty bowl and plate by the sink and trudged back upstairs to his room. You wrinkled your nose at his lack of manners, affronted that he was treating you like some maid.

Stomping up the stairs, you decided to give him a piece of your mind, slamming the door open only to find him lying on the futon, half-sleepy eyes regarding you.

“Huh?”

His tone combined with his lackadaisical manner made you see red and you huffed, crossing your arms together. “You know—you could start showing more respect to someone who just saved your life.” Mikey blinked and it didn’t take a genius to notice that he had already managed to upset you. Your shoulders were shaking, cheeks flushed, fists clenching and unclenching. Chewing on your lower lip, your furrowed brow was a tell-tale sign that you were close to exploding, and a part of his brain switched off. He staggered up from the bed to stalk towards you; the thunderclouds hanging around his head making you falter until your back met the wall.

Bearing down upon you, you had not noticed how much taller he was compared to your frame; how he could easily manhandle and hurt you. The flash of fear in your eyes was enough to give him pause and Mikey frowned.

“Fine,” he muttered curtly as if concluding an inner argument only he had knowledge of. “I’m sorry for the way I acted. Can you forgive me?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you placed your palms flat on his bare chest and pushed him off, stalking towards the door. Before leaving, you cleared your throat, your side profile the only visible part of your visage he had access to. “Tomorrow. 6AM. You’re in charge of collecting eggs from the chicken coops. This farm is falling on bad times and nothing is free.”

Mikey didn't even have time to argue against your words, the door slamming shut once more and leaving him alone with his churning thoughts. For the first time since he woke up in this strange place, he allowed the weight of everything that happened to slam into him; he was far from the city, injured, and alone with a strange woman who apparently could talk to goats.

This was not how he envisioned spending Christmas. Rubbing his forehead, he supposes that this was something serendipitous—a word Draken had taught him when they first met each other as little boys and he had showcased his fighting prowess to his best friend. Mikey had no idea what fate had in store for him when he first found himself on this little farm in such a far-flung place, but a part of him wanted to find out.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Apparently, collecting eggs was not that hard.

With your guidance and some few choice words to the chickens, he discovered that these birds had vastly different personalities much like how women did. Momo—your favorite hen—loved to be preened with compliments and he would find himself cooing hello sweet girl, you look pretty today while stroking her neck which instantly made the chicken warm-up and allowed him to pluck those cream-white eggs from her straw nest. There were testier hens as well—those that pecked his fingers when he was taking too long to collect their offerings, but you were always there in the wings, ready to swoop in and help him.

He found that he liked having your presence around.

You didn’t berate him, nor did you look down on his ineptitude like how he perceived a woman of your skill would. Instead, you advised him how best to soothe chickens, how to fix the hydraulic pump, and which strawberries were the prime choice for plucking. In turn, he started to open up more to you; telling you the truth of who he really was. You barely blinked when he revealed that he was Japan’s most dangerous man, a leader of a crime syndicate that would put many gangs to shame.

Soon, you discovered that you liked his mild manners once the thornier sides of him were shaved and that he had an insatiable sweet tooth that luckily, your strawberry pastries could satiate. Days passed with him watching you bake up a storm in your kitchen, the jams cooling and ready to be jarred with his help; packed and prepared to be sold in the morning markets during those times you would leave early at the break of dawn. You had asked him if he wanted to follow, but with his reputation, he reasoned it would be safer for you if he stayed behind.

All the while, Mikey did not wonder how his own empire was faring; his phone long dead and unused. During those quiet mornings when you were gone, he would make himself a cup of coffee and sit by the porch, enjoying the crisp air and the sight of goats grazing the field. Jiji would often accompany him, the goat more of a dog with the way it would maa in greeting and trot along by his side as he quietly helped fix the hinges of the pen and find more spots around the farm to nap.

A part of him wondered if this was paradise; it sure felt a lot like it.

But, Mikey would be a fool to think his real world would not catch up to him.

His stained reality came in the form of two McLarens and one matte black Aston Martin pulling up at the farm along with six familiar men.

Mikey pried his eyes open to hear the boisterous yells of Sanzu who had pulled a gun on Momo. “Get back!” the pink-haired man screeched, the hen at his heels and pecking at the sliver of skin between his pants cuff and loafers. “Hey—the fuck!—this chicken is insane!”

Bakkk! Momo squawked, angrily flapping her wings as if trying to chase Sanzu away.

Instead of helping his colleague, Ran was doubled over in snorts of laughter, not noticing a curious Jiji who approached him and chewed the ends of his coat tail. Sobering up, he yelped, stepping back and tugging the ends of his jacket from her. “Hey, watch it—“

Sanzu, who had managed to shove Momo away, was the next victim to Jiji’s wandering teeth, the goat chomping on the end of his pink Armani suit. Waving his Glock, he aimed it right in between Jiji’s eyes, but before Mikey could yell out for him to stop, a smaller figure shot towards him, pitchfork in hand.

“Get away from her!” your loud screech echoed, scaring a flock of crows in the trees who scattered away. Landing one swift blow to the back of his head, you barely deterred Sanzu who merely grunted, turning around and cracking his neck, Glock resolutely aimed at your chest.

But you were unafraid, staring down his gun with a ferocious glare, tines of your pitchfork at his neck. “Touch my Momo again and you’re dead y’hear me?” Spitting out your next question, you were an amusing sight surrounded by battle-hardened men who were probably armed to the teeth in nothing but a floral dress and a thick winter coat with a rusted gardening tool as your defense. “Who the fuck are you men? Did the Black Diamonds send you?”

His subordinates shared a confused look. Mikey had to step in before it was too late. He approached the group who froze at the sight of him and no one expected what you did next.

“Mikey-san!” you cried and ran towards him, standing in between him and the rest of Bonten, your weapon at the ready. “Get back inside; these assholes are here to collect hush money—you’re still hurt.”

If he had the capacity to, Mikey would have smiled fondly at your misplaced overprotectiveness. His men, to their credit, did not even react to your accusation, quickly folding into low bows at the sight of him. It all clicked in for you, and the pitchfork went lax in your grip. “Mikey-san—"

“Took you all long enough,” he said genially, nodding at them. “Was the rival gang handled?”

Sanzu snorted, the picture of ease as if you did not just bash in his head with your weapon. A small bead of blood trickled down his face, but he paid it no mind. “Got a lead on them here; we’re close to destroying those asses.” Mikey glanced at your wide-eyed shock and the muted surprise on his men’s face, internally sighing at the fact that this was not how he planned to introduce you to his life. A part of him wondered when he started having the intention to bring you into his world in the first place; never mind that, he would compartmentalize it and go over it later.

“Y/N, meet my inner circle of men—Sanzu Haruchiyo, Haitani Ran, Haitani Rindou, Akashi Takeomi, Hitto Kakucho, and Kokonoi Hajime. Boys, this is Y/N. She saved me and nursed me back to health when I was attacked by those assholes.”

One by one, his men nodded in acknowledgment when their names were called out and you bobbed your head in reciprocation. There was a beat of awkward silence before your big mouth got the better of you and you blurted out the first thought that came into your mind. “Why do you all look like rejected characters from Cowboy Bebop?”

The one with the pristine blowout—Kokonoi, you believed—widened his eyes, his jaw falling open with an audible pop at your audacity in insulting the fashion choices of Japan’s most dangerous criminals.

Rather than feeling affronted, the other Haitani brother—the cuter one—nodded empathically. “It’s the whole pinstripe suit getup, isn’t it?”

“Rindou, she’s insulting us,” Ran pointed out with a harsh scowl at you.

“And she’s absolutely correct,” he rebuked his brother testily, tugging the cuff links around his wrists irritably. “I don’t even know why we have to abide by this stupid dress code when Kakucho walks in with a bathrobe any chance that he can get—if he even remembers to put on a shirt, that is.”

“Hey,” the handsome man with a huge scar down his face frowned. “Do not be rude—it’s Bottega and they’re well-known for their trench coats.”

“Which you always seem to forget.”

“Haitani, I am your superior—watch your tone… and it was one time. I was running on half an hour of sleep.”

Bickering. His men were starting to bicker like the clucking chickens that were now surrounding their expensive shoes, pecking at the pristine leather while they fought over what was deemed as a good dress code. If Mikey had his gun with him, he would’ve fired a warning shot, but he didn’t, and so he settled for a deep scowl until Sanzu noticed and told them to knock it off.

“You’re squabbling like teenage girls,” his number two snapped. “Quit it.”

Kakucho and Rindou fell silent, the latter glaring daggers at the former.

It was Ran who cleared his throat and reminded the group of why they were here in the first place. “While it’s nice to breathe in the mountain air once in a while, we really should be going.” Nodding at Mikey, he said, “Get your things, boss. We have a meeting tomorrow with Yamaguchi and his men to discuss our next move. What with Christmas near, we have to start collecting debts that those stupid businesses owe us—”

“No.”

Every man turned their attention to Mikey’s serene expression. As if forgetting that you were there, they each made their displeasure known in short bursts of confusion.

“… No?”

“Mikey-san—”

“Boss, we really have to—”

“I said—no.”

They fell silent at his resolution. Eventually, it was Takeomi who breached the tense silence, his advisor trying to coax him to see reason. “Mikey, we’re so close to sealing the deal with Yamaguchi and this time of the year is our busiest. If we don’t start collecting the hush money, we’ll lose our hold over these businesses; they’ll look at us like we’re a bunch of pussies. We have to go back—”

“I like it here.”

For the second time, his men were stunned and could not speak.

Kakucho was the one who sent him a pleading look, which Mikey took to mean an inquiry for an explanation. To counter his muted request, the leader of Bonten, the ever-fearsome Sano Manjiro whose name could invoke a rush of fear in the toughest gang member’s heart, broke into a soft smile and gestured at his surroundings.

“Let’s take the next few days off, yeah? You boys should really explore Kawagoe; there’s an amazing sweet shop just a few miles away and Y/N makes the best strawberry pastries.”

To you, he raised a brow. “Y/N, is it alright if my men bunk with us for the time being? We’ll be out of your hair after Christmas.”

You pursed your lips and look between him and his team. Though having a bunch of yakuzas under your roof could potentially spell disaster, Mikey was offering you repayment for your kindness in the form of free labor… and you would be short-sighted to not take him up on his offer. It was truly amazing how a few short days spent with the leader of the most hardened criminal organization could make you privy to his true intentions which made you believe that perhaps, Sano Manjiro did have a heart after all.

Exhaling, you came to your decision. Like a monk granting them sanctuary—despite how these men were probably rich enough to live in mansions and luxurious penthouses—you laid down the ground rules if they wanted to live under your roof.

“No fighting,” you threw the pitchfork down to the ground and was quietly smug at how Sanzu seemed to flinch a little. “No blood, no arguing, and definitely, no weapons are allowed.” Eyeing them with a hard set to your mouth, you said, “All of you will need to earn your keep—which means you’ll have to help around the farm if you want to stay. This isn’t a holiday and you boys might find yourself needing to… dirty your hands a bit.” More than you already do, you added in your mind.

“But, boss, we haven’t even packed,” Kokonoi whined. “We came here with the clothes on our backs and—”

“Hajime, take this as a team-building session,” Mikey simply said and tucked his hands into the pockets of his overalls.

Ever observant and trained to be one step ahead, he sensed his men’s eyes taking in his countenance; the baggy white shirt and denim overalls which you had bought for him, the ease of his shoulders, and how his dark undereye circles were nothing but faded bruises. Sano Manjiro was the picture of peace, the mountain air benefitting him—he didn’t even look like the regular Mikey—one who was always tense and seemingly clenching down on his bridling anger.

He looked… lighter. And happier; none of them had the guts to ruin this new Mikey’s calmer mien.

Reluctantly, his men agreed, Kokonoi muttering under his breath about how the latest keratin treatment he had gotten done was all for naught, Ran glancing distastefully around the shabby farm and Rindou bending down to study one persistent hen who would not stop nipping at his shoelaces. Takeomi, the one who had the second final say to Bonten’s next move, merely shrugged.

“I’m cool with it.” He removed the unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth and chucked it into his pants pocket. “But, can we at least go into town and get a change of clothes?” And some cigarettes. He didn’t have to say it for Mikey to understand his implicit request. Turning his dark eyes to you, Mikey broached his next topic. “Y/N, do you happen to know a store nearby?”

“Yeah,” you uttered with a shrug. “We have a mall… of some sort… nearby.”

At the mention of civilization, his men perked up. A mall… that was Koko and Ran’s second favorite word besides money. He could already see his two executives priming a list in their head of what they needed from their favorite brands. Mikey snickered inwardly—oh, he knew what “mall” you were talking about—and they were both about to be sorely disappointed.

His men quickly agreed and you ushered them inside where they had to remove their weapons and place them in a wicker basket you prepared at their feet. Knives, guns, switchblades, and even a small nunchuck were collected, and the men appeared contrite when your gaze touched each of them.

All of them except for Sanzu.

“I said—every single weapon,” you enunciated clearly, a menace of a woman dressed in floral prints that Sanzu wondered if you secretly moonlighted as an Interpol agent with how sharply you were eyeing the bulk of his figure. He sighed and removed his coat, turning it upside down and shaking it—three blades falling to the hard floor. You still kept your eyes on him, pointedly staring at his slacks.

“Oh, come on,” he growled and glanced at Mikey, hoping for a respite from the humiliation of being parted from his favorite firearms and munitions. When his King’s expression did not budge, Bonten’s second man had to submit himself into the imposed rules of a mere farmer girl and fished in his pockets, removing three switchblades, two smaller Hummingbird guns, and his trusty silver knife that replaced his usual katana when he was out in public.

Satisfied at his cooperation, you paid him back in kind by directing him to the dining table where you took a dampened cloth to wipe the blood from his forehead. Mikey tried not to get jealous at the whole 180-degrees change Sanzu pulled on you; charmingly disarming instead of threatening when he cooed at how pretty your kitchen decorations were.

“Stay still,” you instructed him tersely.

As you worked on the wounds you had inflicted upon Sanzu, he barely flinched, preferring to slip his eyes close.

“You have a heavy touch.”

Snorting, you were close enough to catch sight of the strange diamond-shaped scars marring the corner of his lips. Not wanting to pry, you settled on murmuring, “I’ll show you what a heavy touch is if you threaten my goat and chicken again.”

Apparently used to having someone intimidating him, he merely chortled. “What are you—a Farmville version of Pocahontas?”

“Just admit that you don’t have a special touch for animals, Sanzu—unlike me,” Ran drawled from his perch on the kitchen chair, tilting it far back, tempting Rindou who hovered behind him, waiting for the right moment. With one sharp tug on the back of his chair from his supposedly loyal brother, Ran went sprawling onto the floor in a flurry of long limbs and indignant yelling, the impact heavy enough to rattle the shot glasses you kept in your display cabinet; his perfectly coiffed hair falling in purpled cowlicks in his face when he straightened up with his teeth bared.

“RINDOU HAITANI!”

“I was saving you from the embarrassment of everyone thinking you like to fuck chickens,” was Rindou’s defense as he leaped out of the kitchen to avoid his brother swiping at him.

Before you could stop them from tearing through your small farm, the two brothers were already falling over sacks of feed, inadvertently spilling trails of multi-grains that got your chickens excited enough to run after them; it surely was a sight—two grown men sprinting with six hens nipping at their heels to get a fill of their second breakfast, wild clucks mingling with their distorted yells.

“Ran, Rindou!” you bellowed after them, standing up with dismay scrawled all over your features. “Stop!”

They did not heed you, and only when Mikey’s stern, “Stop,” punctured the air, did the two brothers finally halt and take stock of the mess they had caused. The rest of the executives had their mouths agape at how much damage two grown-ass adults could cause in a span of not even fifteen minutes since the ground rules had been laid down.

Stalking over to them, Ran and Rindou were frozen, until Mikey grasped them both by the collar and knocked their heads together.

“Ouch—!”

“Boss—!”

“Say ‘sorry’ to Y/N.” There was no room for the both of them to budge and cornered by their leader’s deep frown, they bowed their heads to you.

“We’re sorry, Y/N,” Rindou was the first to apologize. “Yes, really sorry,” Ran quipped and you sighed, rubbing the heel of your palm on your forehead.

“That will be another month of not eating meat to restock the feed,” you muttered under your breath, but unbeknownst to you, Mikey had heard your quiet sorrow and the corner of his mouth tilted downward.

But, you brushed it off and grimaced lightly. “Both of you are on the earliest chicken feeding duty starting tomorrow.” Their bewildered gazes prompted you to add, “6AM.” Reticent could not even begin to describe how both of them felt, their lilac gazes stuck on the ground, mumbling curses that you were too tired to chastise them on.

“C’mon,” it was Kakucho who reminded them of their mission for today. “Let’s go to the mall and stock up.” Tail tucked between their legs, the Haitani brothers followed after their superior closely, avoiding the glint of disappointment in your eyes.

“Boss, you following?” Kokonoi prompted and Mikey shook his head.

“Y/N needs my help with fixing some shingles; you boys go ahead.”

Never in Bonten’s line of work and life had they ever heard Mikey utter the words ‘fix’ and ‘help’ in one sentence. Their astonishment would’ve amused him if he wasn’t eager to get them out of his hair so he could spend more time with you. Even if it was just to tighten the roof slats of the chicken pen, he would do it under the chilling sun as long as he had you by his side.

Takeomi was the one who ushered them away, understanding that Mikey had his own reasons and it had everything to do with the pretty farmer who was bending down to chide a scruffy goat for her naughtiness. The Bonten advisor was intimate with his boss’ way of thinking and for now, nothing was on Mikey’s mind beyond you.

This is interesting, he mused and clicked his tongue. “C’mon. Let’s go before the shops close.”

You had jotted down the address and passed it to Kakucho who drove them all in his Vanquish down to the store. Once they were out of your modest home, Mikey cleared his throat and glanced at you. “Sorry about that; they can be a bit rowdy.”

But you did not hold it against him and shot him a warm smile that went straight to his chest. “It’s fine, Mikey-san.”

He clicked his tongue. “Weren’t we passed formalities, Y/N? ‘Sides, we’re already burdening you for this holiday, I’m sure we can be casual around each other.”

Rewarded with a light pink dusting on your cheeks, you ducked your head down to avoid his gaze. “If that is what you want, Mikey-sa—Mikey,” you corrected and raised your head to shyly touch your gaze with his.

Forgetting what he had stayed back for, Mikey found his feet taking him close to you—close enough to smell the strawberries in your hair, feel your gentle puff of surprise touching his cheek when he leaned forward.

“Y/N…”

His touch on your cheek seemed to burn and you found yourself sinking your head closer into his palm. “C-can I… can I…”

Tongue-tied. The ruthless, calculating, indomitable force that was Sano Manjiro found himself unable to even ask a girl for a simple kiss when he had no problem letting strippers dance all over him in grimy clubs. But, this was different—as fucking cliché as it was—you were different.

There was a glow in your eyes that warmed the long empty chambers of his heart, re-lighting a spark once more within the chasms of his chest, and he allowed the momentum to pull him forward, your lips his final destination which he found himself lost in; the rigid lines he set upon his life all but blurring when he finally tasted your sweet mouth.

Like the strawberry pastries that you were famed for, your kiss was as delectable as those delicacies and he drowned himself in your taste. Your soft squeak of surprise was swallowed by his insistent lips and your body instinctively curved closer to him, yearning for the warm press of his shape on yours.

Head spinning, you reasoned that this was all too fast, but your heart silenced you—this was perfect.

The days of shy glances and light grazes when he reached out to grab tools from your hand or the subtle brushes of your bodies against each other when he was following your instructions to prepare goat feed came crashing back, and you allowed all the pent up energy to flow from your mouth to his; allowed him to push you against the small island, lifting you up and setting you down on the cool surface so you could trap him in your embrace. With your ankles hooked around his narrow waist, you felt his sleepy smile grow against your lips.

There were no sounds in your little kitchen beyond the whisper of your lips meeting his, the sound of the clock ticking overhead; bliss was being here with you, in your arms, and Mikey switched off that side of his brain that compelled him to ruin it all, giving himself this sliver of contentment he had held off for so long.

Tis’ was the most magical season after all.

The cool draft slipping in your kitchen did not even deter you when he removed your coat, chucking it down to the ground where it landed with a low thud—his overalls following suit, leaving him in just his loose white shirt and grey briefs. The straps of your dress were the next victim to his wandering hands, sliding it off your shoulders where it eventually met its fate on the floor.

Mikey glanced down at you—at the beauty with kiss-swollen lips and a bit of straw in your hair. The simple cotton panties and bra you wore was probably the sexiest thing he had seen on a woman and he took a moment to devour you with his dark eyes. There was a glimmer in them you had never seen before, a spark of life igniting and pushing you to press your forehead to his and spread your palms across his chest, feeling the erratic bump of his heart greeting your touch like a long-lost friend.

Familiar. Mikey felt familiar despite your short meeting. It was in how he hitched your thighs around him, and removed his shirt, letting your eyes scrawl up and down his frame and trace his white scars with the tips of your shaking fingers. He dipped his head down to suck on the skin of your neck, painting the pristine, blank canvas with the shape of his mouth.

Your sweet keens filled his chest with something that felt like flickering embers and Mikey could not wait any longer—he was never a patient man, to begin with. Your teeth digging into his shoulder, his hands on the expanse of your back, and your panties gently slid to the side was how his cock found itself buried in your body. Both of you moaned at the contact, kisses left on your bare shoulder and your cervix from his length slowly picking up pace.

“S’tight,” Mikey groaned, and you mewled out his name. It had been eons since you last had sex, and the stretch burned, but you bore it all to feel him deeper in you. Unlike the men before who plowed their way into your body, taking what they wanted without consideration for your pleasure, Mikey was the exact opposite of that.

His lips were tangled with yours, inhales and exhales colliding in confusing collusion—who breathed in and out was unknown to the both of you. Mikey’s lazy thrusts were a sharp contrast to his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, getting you closer to your frenzied high. The sounds that emitted from the both of you were somehow carnal and sweet at the same time; his breathy grunts, your smothered mewls, and the wet slap of skin on skin were the only harmonies lacing through this quiet kitchen.

Everything else long forgotten, he was only cognizant of the clench of your pussy, signaling that you were approaching your end.

“Give it to me, sweet girl,” Mikey rasped, locks of his silver hair tangled between your fingers as your desperate gaze pinned him to one spot. “Wanna feel you cum all over me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echoed, rubbing your nose on his. “Wanna cum for you, M-Mikey—”

“Manjiro—call me that, please,” he murmured, touching his dark eyes to yours to find them glimmering with a light sheen of tears.

Was he hurting you? Mikey was about to stop, but when you whimpered and clenched your thighs tighter around him, he found that you were crying because of how he was making you feel.

“M-Manjiro,” you tested his name on your tongue, shaking your head gently from side to side. “Baby, please—can’t—” your choked moans cut off, and your body gave one strong shudder. A rush of wetness flooded his cock and his eyes widened infinitesimally, his arousal responding to your ardor and he cursed internally, managing to piece his sanity long enough to tug his cock out from your wet depths to pour his seed all over your lower belly.

A giggle burst free from your swollen lips and he couldn’t help but smile softly at that sound. Fuck—Mikey was too into it now—he was too into you. Gathering you into his arms, he ignored the chill and brought you to the couch where he laid you on top of him, your body folding perfectly into the odd crooks of his own—a missing piece made just for him.

As you leaned up to trace your fingers down his cheek, eventually replacing those careless touches with your lips, he found himself unable to pull back. His first instinct was to make sure that this was a one-off thing—that it would never repeat again. But, when you sighed his name softly, stirring the loose strands of his hair with your exhaled devotion in the form of a quiet Manjiro, he knew then and there that it was a doomed effort, to begin with.

If anyone could see the infamous Bonten leader growing tender for a simple country girl, they would howl with deranged laughter. Finally, he could hear their jeers, the great Sano Manjiro brought down a notch.

Mikey never believed in Christmas miracles, but right now at this very moment, he started to see that anything was possible—even the defrosting of his once callous and frozen heart.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Kokonoi was not one for random outbursts but in this instance, he had lent his voice to the dismay his other colleagues were feeling. In front of them, instead of a traditional multi-story building that made up the conception of a mall… was a small shop lot. Even Kakucho could not find the silver lining, staring up at the dilapidated walls—and he was the one who usually tried to cajole the others that Mikey’s decisions were sound.

Sanzu wore a look of twitchy disgust, as evident from his dwindling supply of drugs; the Haitani brothers were impassive and Takeomi looked even more bored than usual.

“Are you sure this is the only spot to get our shit?” the older Akashi uttered in a low growl.

It was a sight indeed; six towering men draped in designer suits, coats, and cologne, obviously coming from money—taking in the paltry offerings of flannel, polos, ripped denim jeans, and wife beaters.

Kakucho frowned and whipped out his phone, but the lack of cell reception made him cuss in a low tone.

“Looks like we’re stuck here,” he muttered helplessly. The six men stood in a semi-circle, deciding if they should enter; before they could make a group choice to walk away, the elderly woman who must’ve been the owner of the store waved at them.

“Can I help you boys?” she called out in her reedy voice. Caught and with no other option besides this store to get their necessities, the executives reluctantly entered the tiny shop. There were mountains of clothes on sale, and the whole shop reeked of herbs. Wrinkling his nose, Ran scoffed at the selection which prompted Rindou to exhale a loud sigh.

“Tell me again why we’re here,” he said sourly.

“My, my, what a handsome young man you are!” came a voice by his elbow. Startling slightly, he turned his lilac orbs to find the owner of the store inching closer to him; unprompted, she reached out to grip his bicep, squeezing it good-naturedly. Her rheumy eyes touched each of them with a friendly glint, and she gestured around her modest shop. “Take it all in—Kawagoe’s finest and highest-end brands. So, what can I get for you boys?”

Like a cartoon character coming to life, she was dressed in a paisley dress with overly-permed hair that was dyed the color of piss; her gummy smile earnest despite their palpable hesitance.

Kakucho—the only one with his manners still intact, bowed his head. “Could you help us pick out some clothes, ma’am?”

“And cigarettes,” Takeomi grunted from somewhere at the back.

“Ah, it will be my pleasure!” she enthused and set out to pick a bunch of polos, trousers, and wife beaters for them to wear. “It’s slightly chilly out now, but I’m sure these thick things will keep you warm.” She reached out to Rindou again and patted his shoulder, emphasizing on the suit pads that accentuated his muscular build; the younger Haitani was so stunned at her touchy-feely tendencies to even push her away; his older brother had to swallow a snicker at his expression.

Surprisingly, it was Takeomi who took it all in stride, accepting the older woman’s suggestion and coming out of the dressing room in a pair of beige slacks and a baggy sleeveless shirt that showed off the scars on his shoulder. The store owner gasped and clapped.

“Oh, handsome!” she exclaimed with a toothless grin.

Sanzu, who was obviously taking cruel pleasure in his brother’s sudden discomfort at being complimented unprompted by a woman who was so obviously trying to flirt with them, found himself with a face-full of a pink shirt courtesy of the auntie who wanted to dress him next.

“This color will suit you—you’ll look so expensive in this brand,” she claimed and pushed him into the dressing room next. Kakucho peered at Takeomi’s shirt tag.

“The hell is Gukki?” he muttered under his breath. Sanzu’s appearance from the dressing room prompted a round of raucous laughter from Ran and Rindou; he looked like a disappointed flamingo in his pink flannel shirt and a pair of distressed black jeans.

“Superb!” the auntie cheered, hyping him up and oblivious to the scarred man’s growing blush.

“Can it, Haitanis,” he grumbled, rolling up his suit and smacking them with it. Turning to the store owner, he plastered on his sweetest, sickliest grin. “Auntie—could you get something… extremely flamboyant for the both of them?”

Happy to be of service despite Ran and Rindou’s rushed vehemence that they could choose their own outfits, she pushed two purple sleeveless shirts to them and a godawful flannel that clashed with their lavender-hued hair the color of puke pink.

“Where are you boys from?” she made conversation, twisting the hem of her dress as she batted her eyelashes at Rindou.

“Tokyo,” Kakucho mused, accepting her offer of black flannel and jeans and entering for his turn.  

“Do people actually beat their wives in these things?” Sanzu asked, ribbing his older brother by snapping the sleeves of his wife-beater. “You sure do look like a domestic violence perpetrator, bro.” Undeterred, Takeomi scoffed and flipped him off discreetly.

Apparently, Rindou had competition; the older lady’s eyes practically sparkled when Kakucho exited the cramped dressing room which could barely be called one with its singular shoddy curtain as an offer of modesty.

“What a looker,” she cooed and reached out to help him adjust his collar, much to Kakucho’s blushing stutter of thanks. “Are you single? My granddaughter is about your age and you look strong enough to help around the store.”

“I-I—”

“He’s totally single,” Ran supplied, much to Kakucho’s quiet consternation and expression of betrayal.

“Delightful!” the older lady grinned. “Where are you boys staying? I’ll bring my granddaughter along and we can have some tea.”

“We’re staying on Y/N’s farm,” Takeomi offered, pocketing his cigarette, the picture of ease. At your name, her lips twisted into a frown.

“Oh, poor Y/N,” she clicked her tongue, launching into her story without their consent. “Such a darling—too bad her farm is on the verge of closing.” Hearing your story, the men paused.

“Why?” Rindou inquired bluntly, echoing the group’s silent curiosity.  

“Her father racked up a huge debt and she’s always being harassed by those god awful gangsters,” she tutted. “Last I heard, she had to let go of her farm help because she couldn’t pay them for weeks. Such a nice, young woman too—and very pretty—surely one of you would’ve noticed.”

When neither of them retorted, she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “Look at me, rambling about other people’s business.” Kissing her teeth, she said, “But it’s fine—we townsfolk look out for each other. I’m sure someone will bail her out in the spirit of Christmas for this month’s interest payment.”

Kakucho cleared his throat and meekly asked if she could help ring up their purchases just so she could give them some breathing room; one thing all the men were certain—none of the store helpers in Armani were this invasive with their customers.

“Wait, where’s Kokonoi?” Takeomi voiced out, and the whole group paused, realizing the missing member from this excursion.

“Koko?” Rindou called out and Ran turned his gaze around the shop to find the aforementioned lost man still hanging outside the store. He wore a look of pinched bewilderment as if he had just walked into a whole new dimension and found himself underwhelmed by the totality of it.

Sanzu charted Ran’s sight and scoffed. “What’s wrong with you, pretty boy? Scared of a sale?” His scars stretched wide across his sardonic grin, he waved his hands wildly. “Boo! It’s all 50% off.”

Glaring at the other man’s insinuation, Kokonoi folded his arms. “I am not stepping foot in here—it’s… demeaning.”

“News flash,” Kakucho warned, “We’re gonna be working on Y/N’s farm. You need practical clothes—”

At number 3’s loudmouth, the store lady gasped and all attention was turned to her, mercifully taken off Koko and his prissy ways. “You’re all new farm helps?” Doubting their pristine suits and—in Koko and Ran’s case, their fashionable blowout, and coiffed hair—she wore a look of pure doubt and open curiosity. “Y/N never told me that she managed to get assistance—and from men so strong and handsome as all of you!”

Under the harsh and cheap fluorescent lights, all of them had a light blush on their cheeks from her exuberant praise. Before Kakucho could open his mouth and Koko could have a diva meltdown, the group quickly paid for their purchase and carried their cheap plastic bags full of even cheaper clothes back to the Vanquish.

“Come back soon,” she called after them, and to Rindou, she winked. “Especially you, handsome. If you want, I can arrange a photoshoot—you definitely have the shoulders to model our clothes.”

In a low voice that only his colleagues could hear, Ran muttered, “We could give him a chicken, a garden hoe, and put a strand of straw in his mouth for props.” Rindou trailed his glare to his brother before giving the older woman a lopsided grin of despair.

“U-uh, thank you, ma’am, b-but—”

Grateful for Sanzu pulling him into the car before he could agree to marry the store owner’s daughter in his stupefied haze, Rindou exhaled a low groan. “What kinda town is this?” he muttered churlishly, crossing his arms. Kokonoi snorted.

“A real hick metropolitan, this is.”

Unbeknownst to the men, a group of women who had been hiding around the store gathered close to the owner, peeking past the folded doors, and giggling at the group of men were squabbling, trying to fit their purchases in the boot of Kaku’s car, already smitten by the sight of those six fine specimens.

“They’re staying at Y/N’s home,” the old lady known as Mrs. Aki broke the news in a hushed whisper. Her neighbor gave a scandalous gasp.

“Are they farm help?”

“I doubt it,” Mrs. Aki snorted, flicking one stray loose curl from her forehead with two wrinkly fingers, recalling the expensive fabric of their clothes and the general air of confusion; all of them stuck out like a sore thumb. “But, it’s nothing that we can’t get to the bottom of, right, girls?”

The group of older women agreed, their minds already claiming which man would be good for their still-single daughters and granddaughters. But, Mrs. Aki staked her claim before the rest could get their talons into the one she had already set her sights on.

“The one with the purple mullet—he’s for my dear Suzy,” she sniffed and leveled them with a glare. “So don’t even think of getting your harlot hands on him.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

With the fire crackling and its warmth spilling around the living room, you sighed into Mikey’s chest. He had lent you his shirt while you had passed him a blanket to wrap around his broad shoulders, the both of you laying in contentment and enjoying every bit of warmth you could glean from the other’s embrace.

“What’s taking them so long?” he grumbled and you glanced at the wall clock. His friends had been gone for almost 2 hours and you wondered if they had gotten lost.

Your well-meaning offering of an explanation was drowned by the gentle purr of a car and the sound of tires on the gravel. Shooting up from the couch, the both of you quickly got decent, an Olympian effort to rid the smell of sex and any incriminating evidence of your escapade from his men’s attention.

The door burst open, bringing in the chill and a few more chickens who were straggling by the entrance. Loud voices of argument filtered past the thin walls and the group walked into the sight of Mikey reclining on the couch and you reading on the armchair, both of you looking up in tandem at the sight of Takeomi, Ran, Rindou, Kakucho, and Sanzu in a new change of clothes. The only exception was Kokonoi who was in his now wrinkled red suit, and who muttered under his breath that he needed a shower before trudging to the closest bathroom.

There was a beat of awkward silence before Takeomi broke it. “Um, do you need any help with dinner, Y/N?”

At his reminder, you snapped the book shut and shot up to your feet with a too-bright smile. “Sure—here, let me show you, boys, what to do.” Another second of understanding that yawned between all the men. Rindou glanced at Ran, and Kakucho flitted his gaze to the dark mark on your neck that was a mirror of the stain on Mikey’s alabaster skin. While their leader was nonchalant, you tried and failed to hide your flustered countenance, shooting off instructions for them to ready the table and the ingredients so you could start cooking.

They fucked, Rindou’s minute glance told Ran, and the older brother quirked one side of his mouth up in a half-smile. Yeah, they totally did.

Neither of the men had the guts to point it out; whatever Mikey did behind closed doors was definitely none of their business. Dinner went by without a hitch, minus Koko who had entered the room with a surly glare at how there was no hot water, much to your scoff that it costs extra to have heating.

The simple meal of corn soup and rice left the boys hungrier than they cared to admit. They gathered in your small living room, shoulder to shoulder due to the fact that there were not enough futons—much to your sheepish explanation that you hadn’t been prepared to host seven people under your roof. In the end, after an almost violent game of rock, paper, and scissors where Rindou nearly broke Kakucho’s pointer finger, Sanzu was the unlucky one to spend the rest of their nights on the cold hard floor.

No one disputed the fact that Mikey got the couch, their leader lying with his back to them.

“I’m fucking starving,” Sanzu complained from somewhere below. “Why can’t we just kill one of those damn chickens—I’m sure Y/N wouldn’t even notice.”

It was Mikey’s drowsy voice that put a stop to that thought. “If you hurt any of them, Y/N would gouge your eyes out.”

From the furthest corner of the room, Kokonoi whimpered.

“The fuck was that?” Ran snapped, practically squished next to his brother who was absolutely not happy that he had to be between the older Haitani’s larger build and the cold wall.

A loud sigh from the platinum-haired treasurer. “I miss my goose-down comforter.”

“Rough it out,” Mikey snapped. The group fell silent at their boss’ vehemence to stay in this paltry space and equally downtrodden town. There was a grating snore that became louder and louder till even the windows shook and none of the other executives could doze off without being awoken by the stuttering and choking gasps of Takeomi who sounded like he was fighting for his life rather than resting peacefully in the realm of sleep.

“Fuck, this loud ass fucker,” Sanzu groaned. “Boss—you won’t mind if I smother him, right?”

But to everyone’s surprise, Mikey was fast asleep, low whistles emitting from his parted mouth, his whole body curled into a fetal position.

“He’s out,” Rindou muttered.

“Miraculously,” Ran mused. It was well-known in their small circle that insomnia bedeviled their withdrawn leader; to hear Mikey out cold lessened their ire at being stuck in a farm before one of the most important seasons in their organization.

“Do you think Mochi is having a search party for us?” Kakucho brought up the very real possibility that their other comrade was frantically wondering where they were, his whole team seemingly disappearing into thin air.

Sanzu’s graceless snort punctuated the air, carried by Takeomi’s wheezing snore. “Imagine him trying to close that deal with Yamaguchi all by himself—poor bastard.”

Despite the misery of their situation, the other executives snickered, Mochi’s incompetence the preferred butt of their jokes rather than their lack of space, sleep, and luxuries. Eventually, they each nodded off to sleep, Rindou being the last one, unwilling to admit how Ran’s arm slung around him was the only comfort he had in this cruel, cold new reality he had to live in until Christmas was over.

It was exactly a week before the last celebration of the year and as many of the Bonten executives were discovering… life at a farm was not all cutesy animals and fresh air. Manual work was hard, judging from your scarred and calloused hands; your firm countenance whenever one of them made a mistake.

The first of them to earn your ire was—to nobody’s surprise—Kokonoi. The stubborn treasurer had resolutely not changed out his red suit which had been marred with mud the first time he attempted to make chicken feed. Then, he had spent half the day bemoaning his blowout which now resembled limp and greasy platinum noodles, a sight that even made Sanzu curl his lip in disgust.

“Coldwater is bad for the roots,” he had muttered and Ran was the one who backed him up by nodding emphatically—his own hair looking worst for wear since arriving at Kawagoe. Like high-class paintings that were exposed to time and light, they were fraying around the edges, becoming more rugged, more human-looking. Gone were the clean-shaven men that first graced your doorstep and in its place, were men who looked like they could double as farmers if they wanted a change of occupations from the life of corruption and sin.

To absolutely no one’s shock, Takeomi and Kakucho were the ones who were better at hard work—earning their keep in the form of bigger portions and your warmer smile. Especially Bonten’s number 3 who had a penchant for strawberry-picking and could cover two greenhouses in a matter of hours, putting even the best farmer to shame. For his competence and help, you had rewarded him with a double serving of rolled eggs and ham, never mind that your budget for the holiday was already stretched as thin as it could get.

Completely exhausted from the hard manual labor that they were forced to endure all for Mikey’s new fascination with you, everyone’s sleeping patterns had improved—even Kokonoi’s who had once claimed that he could not be parted from his thousand thread count Egyptian cotton sheets. The one person who found it hard to adjust, however, was Sanzu. Unlike his older brother’s vices for cigarettes, drugs could not be easily found in a small town like this—especially one that was as religious as yours.

It would be more effortless to find himself landing in jail over a miscalculated whisper to the wrong person than to find a drug peddler who could be trusted. His irritation and being forced to go clean manifested in his temper tantrums whenever he slammed the chicken feed down a little too hard or grouchily glared at you across the table. As a way to help him, you put him in charge of the gardening during the mornings when it was warmer and often brought a cup of ginseng tea to him once Kakcuho reluctantly informed you the reason for Sanzu’s constant irritation.

Slowly, the urges to get high and abuse substances lessened day by day from the rigorous exercise and change of scenery—Sanzu felt himself growing lighter and more clear-headed the more time he spent on the farm. Perhaps Mikey was on to something when he mumbled that the mountain air was good for everybody. That and he had finally found a friend in Jiji the goat who had stopped biting the edges of his shirt and now headbutted him affectionately whenever he greeted her in the morning for a feeding.

If their enemies could take a look at Bonten now, they would be laughing—or worse, their black market stock would suffer a huge hit.

Comportment like working men who had to fight for an honest living, they were no longer tense, their shoulders free from the heavy and greasy weight of the underground world which they belonged to; this farm a magical respite away from the horrors of their reality. While Mikey and his men were content to spend the last few days of the year together with you, the red lines of your financial statements grew much too pressing to ignore.

That was how your lover found you, head bent over soft candlelight in the dining room when his men were asleep, pouring over the documents as quietly as you could. You had found out that Koko was good with numbers, and while you would have taken his help, it was your pride that would be affected once he saw the unbalanced debt and income ratio; no doubt judging you for your poor financial decision in inheriting the farm when every sensible soul told you to stay away from taking on a place that was close to ruin.

But, you had been young and stubborn—the memory of your parents spurring you on to take this load upon your impressionable shoulders at the tender age of 22. Now, at 25, you were no closer to a monetary breakthrough, and if it wasn’t for your additional skills of baking using only the freshest strawberry and eggs, you would not have even been able to meet Mikey and treat him back to health in a safe place.

The picture of your father on the wall seemed to call to you like a beacon and your eyes touched his smiling face. “How can you grin like that, papa?” you sighed, unbeknownst to the audience of one stoic, silver-haired man who was studying the downward curve of your lips. “You left me all alone here to deal with your shit—I hate you.”

Cricking your neck and settling back in the hard chair, you exhaled softly. “It’s not as if I was held at gunpoint to accept this farm… but I did it because I wanted to honor your memory—” flicking the pages of the reports where the red lines shone like bloody wounds in the soft light for anyone to see, you sighed even deeper. “—and look where that stupid sentimentality got me.”

“Y/N.”

Your heart lurched in your chest and you forced a smile on your lips when Mikey padded over to you, scrambling to turn the reports over so he could not catch sight of the reason for your lamentations. Since his men were all out cold from yet another arduous day, you opened your arms to him and he sank into them, pulling you onto his lap when he sat in the opposite chair, pressing his face into your hair.

“You okay?”

Fixing a grin so he would not see the glimmer of sadness coruscating in your gaze, you nodded. “Of course, I am. I’m fine, Manjiro.”

The sweet scent of lavender softener and the natural musk that emanated from his skin calmed you down, and you reasoned that even if the farm was facing hard times, at least you had the comfort of his arms around you. Outside, a light snowfall was starting and you mentally made a note to tell Kakucho to switch on the water heater tomorrow before the rest of them used the water pump.

Mikey inhaled and you felt his heart stutter under your cheek. “Like holding you like this,” he muttered, rubbing the expanse of your back with his larger palm. “You’re so warm.”

“I’m even warmer now,” you whispered teasingly. It was true; in his arms, you were close to combusting, your cheeks hot, and he poked fun at you by literally poking your cheeks, eliciting a soft scoff from you. “Real mature, Manjiro.”

He hummed. “At least it made you smile.”

“You know what—it did,” you said in appreciation for his minute efforts in comforting you even when you did not want to burden him with the truth. That was partly why Mikey found you so alluring; you were like him in the sense that you always wanted to portray the light in you to others to not give them an indication of the darkness gnawing away at your consciousness—to always give people hope even when you were in such a hopeless situation. He supposes that he sees a bit of himself in you, and despite you not taking drastic measures like he did, he could still use what little bit of light that existed in him to keep you from straying.

His fingers skittered down your sides and you yelped softly, evading his touches. “Manjiro,” you whined, “I’m not some five-year-old girl—you don’t have to do that to get me to laugh.” He arched his brow.

“Oh? So, my baby wants to be treated like a big girl now, huh?”

You blushed at his nickname for you. “’M-my baby’?”

He realized his slip-up a second too late, but by then, it was redundant to remedy it. Rather, he scoffed softly and flicked your forehead. “Smile. I hate seeing you frown.”

Turning your lachrymose eyes to him, you attempted a grin that looked more like a grimace. “S-sorry.” Mikey clicked his tongue and buried his face in your neck.

“It’s fine. I heard ya, you know—about what your dad did. M’sorry for what you’re going through.”

You sank your fingers in his silver locks, shaking your head. “Don’t feel bad for me. I’ll find a way to survive.” Shooting him a smile that was sturdier than what you felt inward, Mikey quietly admired your strength even in the face of your pressing sadness. “I’ve always been able to.”

“I know you will.” You hummed, appreciating his vote of confidence. “Manji, can I ask you something?” Your voice as soft as a cloud, using a nickname, not just anyone could call him, made something in his chest squeeze.

Another hum and you took a deep breath, going straight in for the kill. “What am I to you?”

There was no reason why Mikey froze, something akin to fear taking over him—not when he’s had numerous barrels of guns in his face before, and even once been dangled off a roof by an enemy gang leader. But just from the soft prompting in your candied tones, he suddenly found he could not unloosen his tongue.

“Manjiro?”

He didn’t have to look at you to sense the palpable confusion that lined your pretty face, the question trembling between the both of you similar to the pervading heat of striking sunlight atop a pavement. Like a mirage, he found himself unable to focus on the true feelings that he held for you, all of it alluding to him and his traitorous, unmoving mouth.

To save himself and you this heartache of something unattainable—for there was no way he, Sano Manjiro of Bonten, could fall in love with someone as pure and good as you—he buried the words he wanted to say and turned his face away. Like letting go of the last slice of light down the tunnel by putting it out, he released you and stood up.

All he said in the resounding quiet of your disbelief was, “I’m not good for you—don’t ask me this question again.”

You did not chase after him when he strode out of the door, losing himself in the throes of his innermost thoughts to drown out the glimmer of heartbreak in your eyes. Nor did you wish him good morning when the sun rose and the other men gathered in the kitchen, your swollen eyes and tight lips along with his stony mien enough of a deterrence to stop them from prying any deeper.

Mikey’s men were not dumb; tension was as familiar to them as the air in their lungs. Between their leader and this farm girl, there was so much swirling anger that they could feel it in like a heavy film of oil in the air. You did not speak to Mikey for the whole day, merely thanking the rest of them for their help and telling them that you would be heading into town for some errands, leaving Takeomi in charge for the day.

Once you had driven away in your beaten-up Toyota did the other men have the courage to glance at their leader. It was Takeomi who had the balls to breach the subject first, clearing his throat. “Mikey—“

“Y/N told you to run the operations,” he cut in before his advisor could speak. “You should listen to her. I’ll be in the goat pen if you need me.” A.K.A moping around with Jiji while the rest of them wondered just what the fuck happened to get their usual aloof and stoic boss acting like this. But rather than risk Mikey’s vacillating moods, they set to work. Kokonoi had finally been persuaded by Kakucho to ditch his red tailor-made suit and settle for a black tank top and thick denim jacket, muttering under his breath when he noticed flecks of mud on his expensive Bottega boots.

If there was one Christmas miracle all the men could agree on, it would be to finally get Koko and Ran to shut up about their hair; their constant bemoaning was annoying enough that they would risk your anger to break the cupboard lock and threaten the both of them with their guns and knives. While working, neither of them noticed an old Ford Escort carrying four elderly women and another weather-bound truck that was driven by a group of younger women approaching the narrow gravel road of the farm.

They only heard the excited chatter, the heavy thuds of the doors closing a second too late before the woman from the clothing store spotted them and waved.

“Yoohoo—boys!”

Rindou groaned lowly and hid behind Ran, who pushed back his limp bangs to find a dreaded piss perm job bobbing towards them. She was dressed in a black dress that was two sizes too big this time, a sour-faced teen sulking behind her which, to Rindou’s horror, was her granddaughter. This was the girl that the old lady wanted to match him with? The girl was barely even out of high school, for god’s sake.

Hiding his thoughts with a neutral smile, every man shifted uneasily from foot to foot; Jiji bumped her head on Sanzu’s hand and no one batted an eye when the scarred man took the goat in his arms.

Kakucho, who was appointed as the group’s unofficial diplomatic officer, forced a small smile and a bow of his head. “It’s so nice to see you again, Mrs…?”

“Oh, Mrs. Aki—how rude, I did not introduce myself last time.” Peering around the farm with a glint in her beady eyes, she asked, “Is our dear Y/N in?”

“She’s out in town for errands,” Takeomi uttered, taking the unlit cigarette from his mouth and tucking it safely in his pants pocket. A gaggle of girls, each of them shyly glancing at the men, approached them and every Bonten executive recognized exactly what this ambush was a second too late, much to their dismay.

“Please don’t tell me this is what I think it is,” Sanzu uttered under his breath. His older brother had heard him and grunted.

“A goddamn fucking matchmaking session,” the older Akashi glowered at the ground, refusing to meet a blonde woman’s piercing smile who had found interest in his tattoos and scars. Kakucho—who was internally panicking at what he needed to say—found himself unable to voice out the group’s polite vehemence when he noticed the trays of food the ladies carried. Apparently, the rest of the men caught sight of the aluminum foil, the obvious sign of home-cooked dishes the target for each starving executive’s attention.

Now, Kakucho was a loyal man to your cooking, but in the face of hunger and days of mild malnutrition, who was he to deny this serendipitous occurrence?

Mrs. Aki didn’t have to let herself in—she was ushered into your kitchen by Ran himself who insisted that he and his friends take the tray of food from the girls so they could relieve themselves of the cold.

Mikey, who had heard snippets of conversation and doors opening and closing, was assuaged by the curious gazes of eight women sitting in your rickety kitchen, plates of food being passed around and devoured by his executives who were eating as if they had been stuck on a deserted island for years. Even Kakucho who was usually tightly reined with his reactions gave him a sheepish smile and gestured to the last empty seat.

“C’mon, boss—there’s enough for all of us.”

“You boys seem thinner,” Mrs. Aki said after she had introduced the rest of her entourage—a Mrs. Fujita with her daughter, Fumiko; Mrs. Tamiko with the blonde who had eyes for Takeomi, Miki; a Mrs. Izanami and her daughter, Kuse, and finally, Mrs. Aki with her granddaughter Suzy who was silently mortified at having forced to be seated next to an oblivious Rindou.

“Did Y/N give explicit permission for all of you to allow strangers into her home?”

Something about Mikey’s phlegmatic tone and stance made the rest of the men stop chewing, staring at their boss with muted looks of uneasiness that they covered well—at least, well enough for Mrs. Aki to open her big mouth and utter, “Oh, Y/N is a sweetheart. She allows anyone on her farm.”

For the first time in his life, Mikey’s displeasure had no proper outlet and he churlishly nodded towards the stairs. “I’ll be taking a shower.” He left the group as swiftly as he came, and the other woman who was as bold as Mrs. Aki—Mrs. Tamiko—tittered into her handkerchief. “A moody young man, is he not?”

Ran shrugged and flashed her a smile, one that had the older woman’s cheeks dusting a light pink. “He’s in a bad mood because he and Y/N got into a fight.” Coming to his senses when Takeomi groaned next to him for easily giving up information he had no right to know in the first place, lilac eyes widened at his impudence. “U-Uh, I mean—”

“No, it makes sense,” it was Mrs. Izanami who spoke up this time, adjusting her red-rimmed glasses that were starting to slip down her nose. Her daughter, who was the exact carbon copy of her, was not at all affected by the presence of the six men, preferring to spoon vegetable stew onto her plate and chew listlessly as her mother droned on. “He reminds me a lot of Mr. L/N—Y/N’s dad. He was as grumpy as a sleep-deprived child during Sunday school, that one.”

None of the men knew what to say to follow up to her good-natured, but an obtuse observation.

“So, is the grumpy one single?” Mrs. Aki asked cheerfully, and this time, not even Ran’s loose lips would let the truth slip out.

“He’s really private,” Kokonoi interjected, reaching for his second plate of stewed broccoli and carrots. “Mikey prefers to be that way.”

“Ah. The strong, silent, mysterious type,” Mrs. Izanami quipped, earning the other women’s laughter. “Seems about the right kind of man for Y/N.”

As if you were summoned, the backdoor to your kitchen opened and you stepped in, stamping your boots off the light snowfall, the tip of your nose reddened from the weather. The smell of food was the first thing that alerted you towards something amiss, and you glanced up to find fourteen pairs of eyes studying you. Jolting, you involuntarily took a step back, recognizing the blonde perm of your closest church friend.

“Auntie,” you exhaled and a grin wormed itself on your lips. “I didn’t know you were visiting.”

“Just popping by,” Mrs. Aki said breezily and you smothered a smirk. It didn’t take a genius to understand the presence of four unattached women in a room full of six handsome men. Inwardly, you were shaking your head from the quiet exasperation; your auntie and her meddlesome match-making ways. But, you decided to let the older woman have her fun—not wanting to burst her bubble towards the true nature of the men she was trying to set up her granddaughter and her friend’s daughters with.

You left them to their ways and trudged back to your bedroom. Reaching the landing, you were stunned to find a shirtless Mikey exiting your room, a quick flicker of guilt lighting up his features when he saw you. It would’ve been too obvious if he turned around and walked away; apparently, you were having the same thoughts because you frowned and peered at your feet, unable to speak.

“I was searching for some shampoo,” he offered in clarification.

You were quick to respond. “Oh. Okay, let me get it for you.” Darting in and out of the room, you passed him a small bottle of Dove, unable to meet his gaze without fully blushing. Mikey hesitated at the doorway and you paused as well, before coming to your senses that this would’ve been a waste of your time. He had already told you to never question what you meant to him, so why should you stick around for him to break you like a promise for the second time?

Turning on your heel, you marched back downstairs, completely missing his soft exhale of, “Y/N, wait—“

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

“So, did any of you get engaged after yesterday’s match-making event?”

Your teasing lilt drew Sanzu’s snort and the pink-haired man shot a smirk at his older brother. “Don’t know about the rest of them, but Takeomi was getting awfully close to whats-her-name—Miki?—yesterday.”

Spreading strawberry jam on his toast, the older Akashi ignored his sibling’s jab. “You mean sitting awfully close to her. Her mother practically forced her onto me.”

“Miki is into DILFs?”

It was your mindless question that stopped the rest of the men from their various activities to get ready for the day; motions of spreading butter on bread paused, cups of tea halfway lifted to lax mouths. Mikey’s dark eyes flashed with something incomprehensible, but you were clueless to it, as were you innocent to the quick darting gazes they directed towards their sullenly quiet leader.

Takeomi chuckled in a strained manner, treading lightly through this sudden tight tension. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Um. Who knows?”

“Pretty sure she’s into older men,” you said, and in an oblivious manner, completed his death sentence by grinning at him. “I suppose I can see the appeal.”

You hummed under your breath and returned to your work of shelling peas for the stew tonight. The cold permeated through the cracks of your windows, but none as icy as the frosty glare Mikey sent in his advisor’s direction. Takeomi responded with a shake of his head, the scar running down his eye crinkling in vehemence towards his boss’s sudden accusatory glare.

It’s not what you think.

Before Mikey could lunge across the table and strangle the older Akashi, your quick hum broke the tension. “I need you, boys, to run into town for some groceries—is that alright?” You gestured absentmindedly towards the window. “The farm is all taken care of now and since Christmas Eve is tomorrow, we best start preparing before everything is sold out.”

No one responded to your suggestion and you glanced back to find everyone avoiding looking at Mikey and Takeomi; one glaring and the other concentrating hard on his toast to avoid eye contact. “Is everything alright?”

In a show of utmost restraint the executives had never seen Mikey perform, he broke off his staring competition (or in Takeomi’s case, removing the burden of his hot glare from the other man) to give you a curt nod. Like a balloon deflating, everyone at the table seemed to ease, leaving you confused as to their antics.

Mikey did not give you another chance to ruminate, leading the other men out by swiftly standing up from his seat and sulking towards the cars. Kakucho was the last one who took your grocery list and you bid them all goodbye; Mikey barely looked at you as he took the shotgun seat in Kaku’s Vanquish.

The engine of the expensive sports car roared before silence fell like waves around you. It was strange how you never noticed just how still and stifling your life was before meeting Mikey and the rest of Bonten. A part of you already missed Ran and Rindou’s boisterous arguments, Sanzu’s grating laughter—heck, you wondered if you were even ready to bid goodbye to Takeomi’s chainsaw snoring once Christmas passed and they had to take their leave.

Ignoring the aching pit of loneliness in your chest, you chose to focus your efforts on making dinner tonight a special one. Sanzu’s futon would be arriving later in the evening, and you couldn’t wait to surprise him with it, aware of how uncomfortable it could be for him to be sleeping on the floor for close to a week and a half.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the rev of motorcycles approaching your gravel road, knocked out of your daydreams when a loud rap on the door brought you back to reality. You flinched when another booming knock sounded, keeping your ears peeled; perhaps the boys had returned or they had left something behind before the grocery run. But when you opened the door, it was neither any of the seven men that you were acquainted with; a jeering grin on freckled cheeks and three men with slicked-back hair bore down on you.

“Hello, Miss Y/N. Enjoying Christmas?” the leader of Black Diamonds inquired, his nasty grin carving its presence into the slab of fear that sank heavily in your chest.

“I hope we’re not intruding,” another one jeered.

You barely had time to slam the door shut, their broader builds pushing past you and bullying their way into your modest home. Taking in the sight of Rindou’s silver McLaren outside your home—the only car left after Mikey and the rest had driven away—the one with a huge snake tattoo around his neck whistled. “Pretty ride you got there. Your boyfriend’s?”

You didn’t reply, your fingers clawing the front of your apron, frozen to the spot.

One of them—the one with the awful, greasy hair—grabbed your arm and shook you. “Oi, lady. Yori asked a question.”

“N-no,” you shook your head, cheeks leeched of color. “It belongs to a friend.”

“A friend, huh?” the leader named Yori hummed. “Y’think your little friend can finally pay us back what you and your shit-family owe us? Oops—” he paused, grinning. “I forgot. Your dear old dad is dead.”

Biting back on a few choice curse words, you swallowed and stared at the ground.

Yori, who was apparently done with niceties, reached out to tug on your other arm roughly, shaking you hard enough that your teeth clacked together. “Where’s my money, bitch?”

“I-I don’t have it,” you muttered, frustration forcing you to glare at him and shake your head. “I don’t—”

“You think you’re so slick, huh? Borrowing money from us and not even having the decency to pay us back.”

“I won’t!” All the nerves you had mustered spewed forth from your lips in utter rebellion. You had no idea what got into you; you were always meek and subservient to their ways but this time, you would be different. You had to be different. There was no way in hell or high water that you would spend the rest of your life paying out your nose to keep these loan sharks away.

You were sick of being under fate’s thumb and you wanted to lash out at the unfairness of it all.

“I will not pay you back! This is absurd—do you want me to keep on paying until I’m dead?! I won’t do it!”

A fist landed in your stomach before you could inhale after your tirade. Someone kicked you in the shin and you went tumbling backward into your display cabinet, rattling the cheap shot glasses from their precarious position. Glass shattered and you shrieked when Yori bellowed, “Destroy everything!”

His order was instantaneous. The men flipped your furniture, throwing your chairs and plates into the walls all while you were screaming at them to stop. “Please—I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You grabbed Yori’s arm, but all he did was shake you off and you fell to the floor, cutting your palms on the glass shards when you threw your hands out to soften your fall.

They took your prized shot glasses and slammed them to the ground, your pots and ingredients joining the mess and you were helpless to stop them; a slave to the fear and cacophonous destruction of everything around you.

“Oi, dickheads!”

The flurry of wreckage paused and you glanced up with tear-filled eyes to find Mikey, Ran, Rindou, Sanzu, Kaku, Kokonoi, and Takeomi at the doorway, glaring at the other men.

“And just who the fuck are you bastards?” Yori drawled, flickering his gaze to you, grinning salaciously at a singular possibility why there were suddenly seven men at your front doorstep. “Selling your body already, doll? Who are these assholes anyway? They look like city scum—”

His words were cut short when a foot collided into his chin, sending him flying into the opposite wall. More glasses shattered and you yelped, hands moving forward to protect your face from the shards. A strong grip pulled you back to your feet and you were hidden behind Kakucho’s build, Kokonoi at his side, the two men shielding you with their bodies.

Your eyes widened at the sight before you; Mikey with his silver hair falling into his face, advancing towards the leader of Kawagoe’s most notorious gang.

“I remember you.” Under the half-light, the dark stain of his tattoo on the back of his neck seemed to stretch like a distorted grin. “You were the one who told your men to finish me.”

“Yo, what the fuck—!” One second, Yori was shakily getting to his feet, and the next, he was slamming into the opposite wall, being kicked around as if he were nothing but a football. There was no mercy in Manjiro’s bloodless gaze, no emotion beyond darkness encroaching his already bottomless eyes.

The other men charged at Mikey, but they were swiftly deterred by Ran and Sanzu who grappled them, pinning them to the floor with the ease of squishing a ripened strawberry between too tight fingers and pummelling them until spit mingled with blood dripped down their slack mouth. One of them lurched at you but Kakucho jabbed him right in the face, a fountain of red exploding from his mouth. You gasped when another greasy gang member unsheathed a knife, aimed right for Kokonoi’s unprotected back. He rushed forward with a snarl on his oily features.

“Hajime!”

Hearing your cry, the platinum-haired Bonten treasurer landed one roundhouse kick into the perpetrator’s side, paralyzing his arm and causing him to crumple forward, grappling the other man and slamming him down onto the floor. Koko’s tongue was sticking out and a mischievous grin was scrawled across his face as he effortlessly landed one burning strike after another into the other man’s face.

With their numbers falling to Bonten, the remaining Black Diamonds scattered with screams, defeat tasted in the form of their motorcycles revving and kicking snow and dirt up in the air as they sped away. Their leader was still out cold and Mikey lifted him up by the root of his hair. To you, he muttered, “Is this the asshole that has been upping the interest every month?”

“Y-yes,” you could barely speak without trembling. Your house was in a disarray, shards of glasses glinting like fallen tears on the floor, mimicking the ones trickling down your cheeks. Kokonoi had a cut on his forehead, Kakucho’s knuckles were bleeding, Takeomi was helping Mikey to tie Yori up while Rindou had gone out to check on the farm in case they committed any destruction to it. Sanzu and Ran surveyed the area with muted dismay on their faces which morphed into a panic when they saw what you were doing.

“Y/N—”

You picked up a shard of your father’s favorite shot glass, holding it in your palms, not even caring that the jagged edges were pressing into your skin to leave ruby red drops on the floor. Despite how tacky and uncouth it was, these shot glasses were the last thing your father left to you, a collection he had accumulated whenever he traveled around Japan and bought one glass for every state he was in.

And it was all gone.

Well, not all of it. There were still four glasses that were intact from his travels up north to Hokkaido and you carefully wrapped those in your grasp, standing up. Yori was stirring awake and when he came to the realization he was tied, he exhaled out a terrified squeak. Sensing your presence, Mikey nodded towards you, an implicit command, and Kakucho grabbed your arm, half-dragging, half-coaxing you to get out of the room. A few seconds later, the loud pop of a gunshot ricocheted, and you screamed, almost dropping the glasses in your hands.

But, Kakucho held you to his side, only releasing you once Ran poked his head past the door and nodded, eyes bright from the quick violence. They worked swiftly to cover the body and wrap it up, Rindou’s McLaren put to good use and was driven by Ran and Sanzu who were heading to god knows where with their fresh kill. Mikey stayed back to help you sweep up the glasses, Takeomi was outside taking a smoke while Kaku and Koko were bandaging each other up.

“H-here, let me help,” your voice was hoarse from the screams and shed tears. Before Kokonoi could even flinch back from your touch, you sat next to him, taking a wad of cotton and dipping it in antiseptic to clean the wound.

“You okay?” Kaku’s deep voice from your side. You could only nod because if you opened your mouth to speak, there was no telling if you would be able to stop yourself from sobbing. Teeth caught on your lower lip, cheeks drained of blood and hands shaking, every man was cognizant that you were one second away from dissolving into a breakdown. Koko grasped your wrist gently and shook his head, sharp eyes lowered in exhaustion. “I’ll handle this.”

You made to protest but Mikey’s voice pierced through your thoughts. “I think you should lie down, Y/N.”

Lie down? A man had just died in your living room, your whole house was upended and Mikey was telling you to rest? If anything, you were too keyed up and had to take it out in a safe avenue; for you, that was fixing people and things up.

Apparently, Bonten’s leader was serious, and in a show of impulsivity that neither man had ever witnessed, he stalked over and threw you across his shoulder like you were nothing but a  bag of potatoes.

“Mikey!” you bellowed and he merely grunted, ignoring the wide-eyed stares of his men as you squirmed in his hold. Your fists raining down on his back might’ve been careless caresses for all of his stoic lack of reaction. He reached your bedroom and set you down onto the bed, where you glanced at his expression for the first time in days. His dark eyes were twin moons that were eclipsed in worry, and there was a tightness in his jaw that traversed to his shoulders.

“Manji—”

“Did they hurt you?” His voice was quiet, but the steel behind it was unmistakable.

You glanced down at your torn palms and his dark gaze followed suit.

“Shit,” he cursed softly and you watched as he walked into your small adjacent bathroom, coming back with a damp cloth. Mikey was tense when he sat next to you, gingerly taking your hands in his and setting them on his lap. There were no words shared between you two when he cleaned your wounds, pausing to inspect if any glass had lodged itself into your calloused skin.

The tips of his fingers were hot stamps on the back of your hand and you bit your lower lip, avoiding his gaze, your chest tight with a whole different emotion that was not anger for the first time in three days. If his men could see him now, they would wonder what possessed the usual aloof and uncaring Bonten leader. But here with you, he allowed his walls to fall for a split second, tending to your wounds the same way you once did for him, his touch gentle for the first time in years.

How long has it been since he held another person’s hand this way?

Not to break their fingers but to admire the tiny divots and imperfections that littered their skin to make them even more perfect in his eyes. He had held hands before with faceless women that he took to his bed and whose names he forgot the next day; shook hands with the world’s most dangerous people… but, never did he cradle someone’s palm in the way he did with yours.

Without thinking, he brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles with a tenderness that took both of your breaths away. Your eyes glossed over and you turned your face to bury the lapse of emotion you were sure was scrawled on your features like a neon sign.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. You did not know what he was apologizing for until he followed it up with, “I’m sorry you had to see all that. I never wanted to introduce you to my life that way.”

A hard swallow. “It’s fine, Mikey.”

The fact that you had refused to call him by his given name hurt him more than he cared to admit. A pout wormed its way onto his lips and he almost let out a whine at your lack of attention.

“Are you still angry with me?”

You didn’t look at him when you replied, “There is nothing for me to be mad with. You’ve made it clear that you don’t like me.”

“That I don’t… like you?”

The confusion in his voice was palpable and you heaved a sigh, gently flicking his hands from yours. “I’m fine, Mikey. I need to go back downstairs to handle dinner—”

“I never did say I didn’t like you.”

That gave you enough pause and you froze mid-step towards the door. Setting your foot down, both literally and physically, you sighed. “So, you like me now?”

He didn’t give you a chance to turn around, his arms vining around you and drawing you into his chest. “Yeah. Couldn’t have made it any more obvious.”

The tightness in your chest was back and you inhaled in a shuddering breath. “But you told me to not ask you—”

“I was afraid,” he exhaled in a quick rush. “I… Y/N, I didn’t know how to react because I’ve never—” Mikey broke off, unable to finish his sentence, the words lodged in the back of his throat. How could he tell this wonderful woman what she truly meant to him without sounding like an idiot? What measure was words when his whole heart felt like it had been given wings and was waiting to burst from his chest at the sight of your smile or whenever he heard your laugh?

Words were never enough where once they were all he had to push himself forward first as the leader of Toman and then Bonten. Men would flock to him because of the words he spouted, how he could inflame their loyalty with a few choice syllables and consonants. But mere words would be an insult to the true depth of emotion he felt for you.

There was nothing he could say that would change your mind, but he could show it. Peeling your hand from your lap, he placed it on his chest, right over his beating heart.

“All this—” his breath stuttered under your palm, his heartbeat like a broken metronome bleeding through your fingers. “—Belongs to you. Everything. It’s all yours, Y/N.” The look in his dark eyes was breathtaking and you had to force your lower lip to stop trembling. “I don’t want to hurt you but I cannot deny this any longer. I cannot deny you any longer.”

His lips, as soft as the snow that was falling over your window ledge, brushed yours—once, twice—testing the waters. Like a winter flower, you bloomed for him even in the midst of the most frigid season of your life, inhaling his life while he drank in your acceptance and devotion.

The bed dipped under your combined weight. His hands were hot on your stomach, the tufts of his silver hair tickling your forehead, his breath a warm constant on your cheek. Mikey was kissing you as if you were the only woman in the world who held his heart when you sensed it was the furthest from the truth; he was the leader of Bonten, the most wanted man in Japan, and the ultimate figurehead of a bad boy that many women were attracted to. You had tried to deny that smoldering allure since the very first day you met him, but like a moth to a dangerous flame, you could not stay away.

He had slipped under your skin as much as you did for his, settling somewhere close to the same heart that was beating erratically against your flushed chest. Clothes were shed to reveal the other person down to their vulnerability, no more barriers left between the both of you; no more lies and deception. The cut on your palms were mirror lacerations of the wounds on his shoulders, seeming to slot perfectly with one another as if you were the missing part of him that finally returned to his body—finally returned home.

Mikey’s mouth was made to mold over yours, the crook of his chin and cheeks lovingly stitched by fate itself to slot perfectly into your neck as he muffled the sounds of his release there. You were more vocal, thighs gripped around his waist, exhales and stuttered moans of his name and more, please more, wanna cum for you, Manji leaving your lips like endless streams of benedictions.

“Give yourself to me, baby,” he grunted into your ear, voice a delicious, low timber. “Wanna feel you, my love.”

Love.

Love.

Love.

That word drenched you in shades of honey gold and the ecstasy of his admittance was second only to the feeling of your release slamming into you like the force of a thousand soaked feathers; covering you in white, dispersing around your frame like a halo, ethereal in its nature when his eyes touched yours and you seemed to disappear in them.

“Manji,” you grazed his cheek and he titled his face closer, chasing your touch. “Manji, I… I—”

“I know.” Words were never enough and they weren’t needed, not when he could hear every whispered line of your heart speaking to his. “I feel the same way, too.”

The tears welling in your eyes made you seem more beautiful than any wonder of nature he had encountered in his life. “You do?”

Taking your hand and placing it on his chest once more, he smiled down at you, the gesture as wild as it was uncommon on his ordinarily sordid mien.

“I told you, baby,” he said, gripping your hand tighter in his. “All of me. Forever.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

There were many instances in his life that Kakucho has heard Mikey’s unfaltering composure give way.

Once, when an unlucky bozo had bad-mouthed his older brother and he had gone into a killing frenzy so fierce that they were scrubbing blood off the meeting walls for days. Another time when he broke off in deep thought at the mention of his sister’s name; and finally, at the sight of a twisting dragon design graffitied onto a wall opposite a seedy sake place they had encountered after a hard night of money laundering.

Mikey was not as indomitable as many thought him to be; he was still very much human and where others would openly express their emotions in heaps, he preferred to let it trickle in condensing drops around the people he truly felt comfortable with.

A muted grin curved across his scarred face at Takeomi’s sudden scowl of realization.

The floorboards above them—directly in your bedroom—were creaking, quick and soft eek eek ekks that should’ve been written off as salacious in nature, but to the others, the implications were immense.

Mikey never fucked a woman near his men; never claimed her in the face of his organization so openly and brazenly. To do so would be a signed death deal for any poor lover the most wanted man in Japan took to his bed. All the women in his life were shadows; flitting disparities between the realm of innocence and sin. They never lasted more than a month—meaningless flings that ultimately kept Mikey free from the strings of the life he led controlling his every gesture.

Witnessing the unraveling of his control, the confidence of his claim… why, even the most jaded member of Bonten had to smile.

The quiet eek eeks eventually petered out after a frenzied finale, and peace exhaled itself into every pore of this shabby but heavenly space.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧────���─❅•

“The pipe is frozen.”

That early morning before Christmas found yourself standing by a pot full of oil with a fresh batch of strawberry taiyakis, bringing it out of the warm depths and setting it down on the counter to cool. Your furrowed brow attracted Mikey’s attention away from the steaming hot snacks, charting your gaze towards Sanzu who was fidgeting at the doorway. His pink hair settled like a messy halo around him, apologetic expression exacerbated when he walked in on your lover hovering close to you, bending his head forward to murmur how nice those delicacies looked.

“Oh,” you murmured and pursed your lips, already mentally calculating how much it would take to unclog it especially when it was close to Christmas and fixing rates would definitely be through the roof. “Do any of you men know how to fix a pipe?”

“I could force my brother’s hand through the pipe if you want to get it unstuck,” Sanzu retorted with a gleefully sadistic glint in his Artic blue eyes.

Mikey’s frown made him stop short and clamp his mouth shut on the numerous methods he could annoy and potentially hurt his older sibling. “Get Rindou on it. He did reroute an entire plumbing system back when he was in Tenjiku.”

“Right,” Sanzu drawled, the recollection coming back to him. “Tch, I remember—when he spilled shit water all over those goon’s apartment floors. Sure, I’ll tell him that—oi, Rin!”

Leaving you both alone once more, Mikey sighed and knocked his head into your shoulder. “Don’t wanna go,” he muttered childishly and your heart squeezed at the reminder. In less than 48 hours, he would leave and go back to his life of corruption and violence in the city while you would be left all alone in the countryside. Neither of you had even made plans for the future; you didn’t know if this would be the last time you would see Manjiro again.

Twisting your fingers, you murmured, “Will you visit me?”

Mikey’s quiet confirmation was done with a hmm. “I’ll try, baby.” A soft kiss was planted on the back of your neck. “You saved me, remember? Would be a damn fool not to see my angel again.”

You couldn’t help the bright grin worming its way onto your lips. Turning around to smile at him, you wrapped him in your embrace, those dark eyes swimming in mirth at how such simple praise could get you beaming at him as if he hung the moon in the sky.

Before he could bring you closer, plant his lips on yours to taste the sweet strawberry flavor of your lip balm, a loud shriek pierced through the silence. You jarred away from his touch to peek worriedly past the blinds. A mop of purple locks poked through, followed by Ran’s sheepish smile.

“Uh, don’t worry about that—Rin just stepped on some goat shit, s’all.” Giving the both of you a thumbs up, he ducked back out into the cold. “Sorry for interrupting!”

Growing irritated at how his men were determined to cockblock him, Mikey swooped you back into his arms and tucked you under his chin. “So, whatcha planning to make for Christmas?”

“Some turkey and stuffing, fried—” you glanced around to make sure Momo was not in the vicinity; not wanting your dearest pet to overhear of your audacity at serving her own kind for the season’s feast. “C-H-I-C-K-E-N from KFC and a salad.”

He grinned at your antics, resisting the urge to pinch your cheeks and pepper kisses onto them. Though he was not one for public displays of affection, there was literally something so endearing about you that he wanted to discard his icy façade and give in to his urges to shower you with his devotion. “Sounds heavenly, babe.”

“You’re gonna help, right?” you mockingly put on a stern tone and felt his chest rumble with laughter. “Y’know, if you’re gonna be with me, you gotta do some heavy lifting, right?”

“I’ll convince you not to,” he said, all confidence and unshakeable faith.

“Oh, yeah?” you challenged and bit down on a grin. “How’re you gonna change my mind?”

“Easy.” His hands slid up to cup your breasts, ignoring your squeak of surprise when his thumb and forefinger pinched and rubbed your sensitive nipples through your thin cotton shirt and bra. “I am well-versed in psychological tactics to get whatever I want.”

You squirmed in his touch, tone drenched in a light warning. “Manjiro—”

“Y/N,” he countered and you could hear that infuriating smirk even without looking at him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against his chest, looking up at him with a soft smile.

“You’re horrible.”

“And you like me for it.” He kissed the top of your head, a complete mushy mess for you. It was just luck that his men were not here to see how soft he was for you; the antithesis of the invincible Mikey. Here with you, he was just Manjiro, your lover and special person.

His yawn touched the shell of your ear and you fought back a teasing remark at how he could sleep anywhere and anytime; the dark circles that weighed his eyes down had lessened since his stay here and there was a vitality that was a stark difference from the young man that first found himself awake in your farm.

“I do,” you said softly, twining your fingers with his. “I really do.”

A beat of silence. “Those men that are after you won’t ever touch you again.” You could sense his reassurance flowing out and aching to soothe any lingering worry you may have.

That was a relief to hear. “I owe you for that, Manji.”

“Nah,” he muttered, leaning against the counter and enjoying the soft scent of your hair drifting into his senses. “No more debts. It’s all cleared out.”

Tears sprung into your eyes and you swallowed down a sob; a heavy burden had been removed from your shoulders, all because of this young man who had appeared into your life like a gift.

“I never thought I would find myself feeling the safest in the arms of a yakuza boss,” you mused and he snorted softly.

“And I never thought I’d find myself in love with a girl who talks to chickens.”

That monumental yet subtle slip-up had you tensing in his arms. But, in an immensely Mikey-like fashion, he did not even seem perturbed at how easily he let his true emotions show. The ticking of the wall clock was loud in your hollow ears.

“You… love me?”

He hummed again. “Was it not obvious?”

Shyly, you turned to face him, pink dusting your cheeks. His dark gaze—always so unfathomable and detached—was filled with the sheerest of pleasure at the sight of your flustered countenance. “I… I love you, too, Manjiro.”

He leaned forward, rubbing his nose to yours. “I know.”

Before his lips could meet yours in a quiet explosion of reciprocated longing and desire, a loud bang made the both of you jump back from each other.

“RINDOU!”

“—s’faulty! Not my fucking—it just hit the wrong bend!”

Wishing he had his gun so he could put a bullet into both Ran and Rindou’s throat for ruining this moment with you, Mikey murmured I’ll go see what happened and stalked out of your kitchen, closing the rickety door firmly behind him.

Snatches of voices pierced through the thin wooden frame of your home.

“—what—”

“—dunno… shit—will I die?”

“I’ll kill you first—”

You tuned out the men’s bickering, content to swipe a strawberry-infused glaze onto the already cooled fish-shaped snacks, humming under your breath. Outside, it had gone awfully quiet and that occurrence was more alarming to you than the yells of threats and disagreements. Carefully picking up seven of the nicer pieces to offer them for their help, you opened the door to encounter a sight that came out straight from your wet dreams.

There was a geyser where your rusted faucet once was, spewing water in the air where it fell like rain, drenching all seven men. Mikey was glaring daggers at each of them, Kakucho was working hard to staunch the flow with his bare hands, bending next to Rindou who held two halves of a pipe in his hand, completely soaked and beyond panicked.

Ran was groaning, carding his fingers through his hair, “Just so you know, this fucking fade cost me 34,000 to maintain—”

“Shut up, my keratin treatment costs double than that and it’s fucking ruined,” Kokonoi whined, trying his best to avoid the spray but it had caught him full-on in the face, his silver hair hanging like limp tendrils around his sharp scowl.

“Can you two pussies stop bitching about your hair for one fucking second and help?” Takeomi growled and lifted a spanner, going back into the fray to staunch the leak. Rindou, purple mullet slicked down and dripping, cursed under his breath, the color leached from his cheeks.

“That was our only water source,” Mikey grumbled, not doing anything but standing there, glowering like a soaked puppy who was denied playtime.

Spurred on by their boss’ displeasure, Sanzu hurried to his brother’s side and removed his shirt, trying to wrap it around the broken joint. All that did was cause the material to soak through and the water to completely dampen it; one shirtless, pink-haired gangster shivering in the cold.

“Do we have plumbing tape?” Rindou bellowed, looking around frantically. You hid behind the pillar so they wouldn’t see you—this was one experience you wanted to stick around for a little while.

Ran rolled his eyes, and at his brother’s dismissal, Rindou ripped Sanzu’s paltry attempt at fixing the leak, the water erupting straight into the older Haitani’s face.

“Hey—”

Not one to be deterred at this sudden pettiness, Ran scooped up a mixture of mud and snow from the ground and hurled it at his brother, the glob landing smack into Rindou’s chest.

“RAN!”

Where there was once the tenacious bond of civility, it was ruined once the two brothers started having a mud fight; poor Kakucho was caught in the crossfire and in an attempt to not ruin the limited clothing they had, they all had the same brilliant idea to remove their shirts. Your eyes widened and your cheeks reddened at the sight.

Sensual beats over a playful rhythm could’ve played in the background and it would not seem so out of place; Gwen Stefani’s sultry vocals on Luxurious seemed extremely fitting for how your heartbeat was rising at a drastic rate at the glorious sight that unfurled before you.

Droplets of water ran down scarred torsos, licking between divots of abs and ropes of muscles adorning sculpted arms. Every man had a physique like he was lovingly crafted from a deity above; faded bruises and white lacerations from old wounds exacerbating their attractiveness. Cupping your hand over your mouth to keep from squealing, you watched as seven grown men abandoned all rationale and hurled balls of mud and snow at each other—even Mikey was not exempted from this impromptu fight.

Kokonoi’s silver hair had gone loose from its messy bun and whipped around his handsome features, his tongue sticking out playfully when he slammed a literal mud pie into Ran’s chest. In retaliation, the older Haitani bared his teeth in a manic grin, gathering large ammunition and lobbing it straight for Koko’s incredibly defined stomach. You touched your forehead; despite the chill, you were burning up.

All the while, water continued to rain down, kissing rippling skin and muscles in slow motion; your mind overdosing on sensory overload.

Mikey’s abdomen muscles seemed to move like a perfectly crafted wave when he avoided Sanzu’s target, slipping down on the muddied ground to tackle the pink-haired man and pie him in the face with his own rendition of a nuclear slap—with mud, of course. Rindou was calling for them to stop, but in a twist, it was Kakucho who slapped a muddied hand on his chest, covering half of his tattoos, much to his chagrin.

You held your breath. It was no secret that amongst a sea of Gods, Kakucho was given extra attention in his physique, his broad chest undulating with deep chortles when Rindou gathered a globe of mud and snow to launch it smack dab in between his pecs. Even Takeomi who was leaner than the rest had his biceps defined with the slush, giving him a feral look, especially when he grinned and returned the favor, ganging up with Mikey to take his younger brother down.

Were there cameras around you? One swift look and you realized that this was truly happening; seven incredibly hot and physically perfect men were dancing in between falling water and mud, getting dirtied right in your fields amongst your clucking chickens and excited goats.

“You slapped shit on me!” Sanzu squawked and Takeomi chuckled evilly, reveling in his payback for all the stupid things his brother had done to him.

“My bad; it suits you, though.”

Before the fight could escalate, Mikey called for a truce; Sanzu was poised to hurl a handful of that sludge right into his face.

“What would Y/N say if we messed up her fields?” their boss intoned quietly, but his men heard him clearly.

All too soon, the magnificent wet dream was over and the men grumbled, falling back into their reticent countenance. You set the taiyakis down on the small table on your porch and scuttled back into the kitchen.

Get it together, Y/N. Get it together. Your cheeks were mercifully starting to cool down.

Rummaging in your storeroom, you returned outside with a roll of plumbing tape, handing it to one sheepish Kakucho who worked with Rindou to fix the leak. Staring at the mess they had made and the mess that was slipping down their bodies, you pitied all of them and walked back to the back of the farm, attaching your hose to the now-fixed faucet and letting them know that they could wash themselves down.

Once the last bit of mud was out from their clothes, skin, and hair, you threw half of your firewood into your fireplace to create a roaring flame, black smoke expelling from your chimney while all seven of them got warm in your living room. Hot tea was brewed and poured into chipped cups to be given to each man; your quiet chastisement that they would fall sick if they did not take care of themselves echoing loudly in this newfound comradeship.

That night, to reward them for their work (and the little show they put on for you), you cooked beef stew, miso soup, and fried seaweed for dinner—huge portions that could feed an entire army completely emptied after three rounds from each man. After dinner, the doorbell rang and you rushed to get it while the others soaked and hung up their clothes to dry by the fire.

Walking back into the room, you called out for Sanzu and handed him a rather large box. His ice-blue eyes widened and almost glimmered with tears at your gift.

“T-thank you, Y/N,” he choked out and you had to bite down a laugh at his expression. He looked like a man who was given respite from the cruelest cold; gratitude so strong that his lower lip wobbled.

The futon you had bought for him slotted in perfectly between the Haitanis’ sleeping place and Mikey’s couch. For the first time that night, Sanzu did not have to sleep on the cold, hard floor. For the others, you passed them razor blades and shaving cream, their appreciation second to the sudden warm glint in Mikey’s eye when he observed how easily his men took to you; the level of respect you commanded amongst Japan’s most dangerous criminals was amusing as it was awe-inspiring.

You didn’t have to house them, you didn’t have to feed them or spare what was left of your dwindling budget to ensure their comfort, but you did. And you did it all without a word of complaint leaving your lips and without even a second thought.

Mikey had made a number of horrendous choices in his life, but allowing his men to stay here on your farm, to genuinely see what he saw in you, would definitely not be one of those decisions.  

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Cold air pinched his cheeks, the farm aglow with Christmas lights that flickered softly in his periphery.

The string of lights fringing your porch—courtesy of Ran and Kakucho’s help since they were the two tallest members—seemed like specks of fireflies in his half-mast gaze. The farm was lulled into a comfort; chickens cooing softly in the background, the goats all sated from a good meal and rest in their pens; the end of the year rush slowing down for everyone to take a breath.

Including you.

Mikey had never seen you look this calm and stress-free. Your cheeks were radiant, smile bright, and movements fluidly easy when you maneuvered around the kitchen, fixing dinner for later. The smells coming from the tiny space were heavenly; his men were getting antsy for tonight’s fare.

The farm was cleaned up, the last of the feed stored away and when evening came, everyone was practically vibrating with excitement. You had asked the men to get cleaned up and dressed well for tonight, and it was a sight to find the seven men groomed to the shadow of themselves, back in their suits and dress shirts.

“Give me a second!” you called from upstairs.

“I’m so fucking hungry,” Rindou muttered, shifting his lilac gaze across the room, waiting for your arrival so they could all start feasting. A creak from the stairs and everyone turned around at the same time.

Mikey felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

There you were, hair down in loose curtains and held back by a pearl clip, a wrap dress in the purest shade of white adorning your frame to show off every single curve and dip of your body in the most tasteful fashion. A gold necklace with a pendant glinted from your neck and your blush rose lips were lifted into a soft smile that touched your eyes. His men could not seem to reconcile the simple farmer girl usually in floral dresses with this demure goddess before them, as evident from their shifting gazes and pink cheeks.

Their silence caught your attention and you glanced at each of them quizzically. “Is everything all right?”

Mikey gripped your waist and pulled you closer to his side. “Everything’s fine. Let’s start?”

Not registering his possessive claim in front of his men, you nodded and set the table, much to their consternation at having been caught ogling at their boss’ woman. Dinner went by without a hitch, laughter filling the air and his men diving into food after a quick thank you for the meal. Later, with bellies full and hearts light, Takeomi brought out a huge bottle of sake that he had managed to swipe during his excursion to town and used the remaining shot glasses for a drinking game.

Never have you encountered a game of rock, paper, and scissors as intense as the one that Bonten played. Each man was determined to undermine the other and get him drunk enough to vomit blood, it seemed. The most competitive were Sanzu and Rindou, their dynamics as the younger Akashi and Haitani respectively, causing them to wage war against their brothers and anyone around them who was brave enough to go against their drinking prowess.

A game of truth or dare where Kakucho admitted to having a crush on Mikey’s secretary and Ran had to give Jiji a kiss on her cheek when the goat wandered into your living room saturated the night in peals of laughter. All the while, Mikey never let his arm around your waist fall, always keeping you either by his side or on his lap. You were too drunk to care that your cheeks turned pink whenever he peppered soft kisses down your throat, reveling in your last night together with your newfound friends.

The Christmas cheer went on past midnight and at some point, Sanzu had fallen asleep on top of Rindou, their older brothers having to shift them onto their sides in case they choked on their own puke. Takeomi and Kakucho helped to wash up, the numbers dwindling as the men nodded off after a hearty meal and drinks, leaving you alone with Mikey in the kitchen.

A sudden wave of sadness at the thought of tonight being your last one sprang into your mind, the cheer from the holiday receding into a growing sadness at the reality of your home growing empty and quiet once more—the men’s absence echoing off the walls. You would worry for them; there was no doubt about it. Though you may not know everything about the life of a yakuza, you could hazard a guess that it was filled with bloodshed, sadness, and loss.

It was that thought that spurred you to reach out to Mikey, burying your face in his chest. What would happen when he finally left your side? What if those thugs that caught him had another group and came after him? Sure, he was Bonten’s leader, but he was still a man. He was your Mikey; if anything were to happen to him, you were sure that your heart would not make it. His name was written like a prayer through every heartbeat. He had come to you like a wayward seed on the back of a strong wind, planting himself in your life that you could not imagine these walls without his presence—could not imagine waking up every day without him by your side.

Sensing your sadness, he sighed and cupped your head closer to his chest. “Y/N?”

“I don’t want you to go.”

That exhaled admittance was enough to get his heart squeezing in absolute sadness. “I have to, my love.”

You sniffed and shook your head, tears falling like diamonds down your cheeks that he could not resist kissing them away, every press of his lips on your skin was a cherished wish that he did not have to return back to his life. “Don’t leave me, Manji. Stay with me. Be by my side. I want you to t-tell me all about your day; I want to wake up next to you; I want to spend every day with you.” Another errant sniff and the hot tears would not cease their reckless descent. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Those words hit him like the force of a thousand bricks and for the first time in his life, Sano Manjiro wished he wasn’t himself. He wished he was a regular man with a 9-to-5, someone who could leave the dark shadows of his world for the woman he loved and give her everything she wanted. And he would’ve given you everything you wanted. All you had to do was bat your pretty eyes and he would stick himself to your side, build you a home, put a ring on your finger, fill your belly with his children to quench that deep loneliness inside both of your souls…

But, he could not do that.

He was not an ordinary man as much as he wanted to be.

Exhaustion lined the cracks of his soul and he made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Even if the circle of his arms was small and his heart was far too shallow to hold onto the depth of your love, he would dig deeper, fortify its walls to fill it with the presence of your sweet smile.

“Y/N, have I ever told you that you saved my life?”

You hesitated, the reminder of his blood-soaked body coming to mind. “Y-yes. When I found you at that roadside, right?”

He was shaking his head even before you were done. “If you could… if you could know more about my life…” A stuttering breath and the words he desperately wished he could hold back could no longer be fought off.

“Y/N, you have done more than just save my life. You know… sometimes the wrong train takes you to the right station. It was like that for me, too. Throughout my whole damn life, I’ve always felt like I was on the wrong train. There were so many times I wanted to give up. I didn’t want to go anywhere and thought of jumping off that train. When I met you… look where I am now. I took the wrong train again—a very wrong one, at that, because it brought me to a destination I cannot stay in for long. Still, I want to think about that future with you because no matter how much life has fucked me over, in the end, I arrived at the right station at the right time.

“Even if I have to worry about throwing you into my fucked-up world and losing you every day, I want to have you in my life. Even if it breaks my heart because it’s a dream that can’t come true, I’d like to sincerely dream about our future.”

His words struck you deep and you sobbed quietly, looking up into his lachrymose dark eyes. Manjiro was laying his heart for you bare, the tracks of tears on his cheeks faint but still ever-present. He was scared—he was so fucking scared of bringing into his life because all it reeked off was death and loss. You were like the unattainable flower that he had fallen in love with; he could only stare at you with admiration, but if he plucked you from your roots and preserved you in the currents of his fake world, you would wilt.

“M-Manji, you came into my life like a gift and I’m so grateful for that. I’ll still be here waiting for you; I don’t want you to forget me.” Mimicking his movements, you picked his hand and placed it on your chest, your lower lip trembling. “But even if I disappear from your eyes, I will always remember your smile, your love, and how you made me feel s-so safe. My heart is so full of you and I will always look for you. I’m always on your side, Manji.”

Your admittance shook him to the core and Mikey exhaled a stuttering breath, your shared tears streaking down both your cheeks rapidly, the moment trembling between the both of you like a shattered sob.

That night, you brought him into your bed for what felt like the last time, skin on skin, breaths unraveling and tangling in between shaky lips. The pleasure was second only to feel the other as deeply at the moment; to imprint the memory of his touches and kisses deep in the recesses of your brain and the layers under your skin so that when morning came, every fiber of your body and soul was wrapped in the sweet sound of his name.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

Some days, you wondered when the taste of loss would stop stinging your tongue.

Even from your perch by the doorway, merely feet away from the fancy cars and silhouettes of the men you had come to appreciate and trust to have in your life, everything seemed all too far away for you. The futons were rolled up, the house cleaned and the farm underwent one last surveillance from the seven men who had changed your life in such a big way, you could not resist wrapping your arms around each of them in a quick embrace.

Kakucho patted your shoulder, Rindou and Ran stood stock still with mirth in their gazes, Takeomi smirked fondly at you, Sanzu nudged you away in favor of bringing Jiji into his arms for one last time and Kokonoi had a look of consternation on his face, but nonetheless embraced you back lightly.

“You take care, okay, Y/N?” Takeomi’s low voice from somewhere in the back.

“If anyone causes problems for you, let us know—we’ll kill ‘em for you,” was Ran’s solemn promise, a stark difference from the mischievous man with perfectly coiffed hair when you first saw him.

“I have no doubt that you all will,” you fondly retorted and touched your gaze with a pair of dark onyxes.

For Mikey, you let your arms linger around him, feeling the press of his body curved against yours, his forehead pressed to yours.

“I’ll come back for you,” was his exhaled promise. “I don’t know exactly when, but I will.”

Uncaring of the six other eyes and witnesses, he sealed his assurance with a soft kiss, drinking in your growing smile against his lips despite it being tinged with sadness.

The shawl around your shoulder was the only thing that provided you with warmth when you watched all seven of them pile into their expensive cars. Mikey gave you one more lingering smile and your heart clenched, Momo in your arms as you stroked the hen’s head. You waved goodbye, smiling fondly when Sanzu sniffed loudly and patted Jiji’s head. “I’m gonna miss you, girl,” he said shakily and the goat echoed his sentiment, maa-ing sadly and bumping her head against his hip.

Even Kokonoi gave the farm one last sweeping gaze before getting in the shotgun of Kaku’s Vanquish with a loud sigh that his comrade noticed. “Hajime?”

Frowning at his roughened hands, Kokonoi reasoned that he should’ve been happy to go back; should’ve been happy to return to his Egyptian sheets and expensive keratin treatments. But, why did it feel like he was saying goodbye to one of the best holidays of his life?

“Santorini can’t compare,” was all he muttered under his breath and Kakucho gave him a questioning look once Mikey and Takeomi slipped into the backseat. The purr of the engines was like the start of a heart-breaking melody as the cars pulled away from the small gravel road, your silhouette growing smaller and smaller in the distance until they rounded the corner and you had completely disappeared from view.

A sad smile etched on your lips and tears in your eyes; you swung the gate closed with a dulled thud, silence falling over the farm in such pressing waves, it suffocated the sobs out of your chest.

In the back of the Vanquish, Mikey’s chest squeezed in a similar manner and he exhaled a loud sigh; twisting his body back to catch the rise of the farm’s thatch roof before it was engulfed by foliage.

Takeomi noticed his sorrow but did not comment on it, letting his boss work through his emotions; studying how he touched the newly formed calluses on his hands from days of working on the fields. Before he left, you had given him a packet of strawberries and a huge jar of jam that Mikey was sure to savor till the last dollop and piece.

“Wipe out all the debts we accumulated from people who can’t pay.”

Kakucho nearly swerved into an errant tree and Koko actually gasped, turning around to face him with an incredulous look.

“Sir—”

“I want all the debts that family members owe from the loans that their dead loved ones took out completely erased.”

Thinking about the mountain of paperwork that waited for him back in his office, all Kokonoi could do was sigh. “As you wish, boss.”

His third and advisor who had the right to question him on his decision were more delicate in this matter. Takeomi caught Kakucho’s eye through the rearview mirror and shrugged.

“If that is what you want, Mikey.”

A firm nod of his head. “No more hush money from small businesses, too, Hajime. Tell the attack division to not threaten them anymore. We need to find a new source of income before the first quarter. I trust you have a few ideas.”

Oh, the Bonten treasurer did, but he was so stunned at Mikey’s callous forgiveness that he had to huff a soft laugh. Look what you did to him, Y/N.

Outside, a light snowfall picked up. Mikey perched his chin in his hand, charting the white drops building up by the ledge of this bullet-proof window, his mind a million miles away from his body and definitely not in the same car as his other executives.

Idly, he wondered if the check he left amounting to nine million yen in the dining room where his gun used to lay would be well-received by you.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

One year later

“Your payment is early,” Iwata-san said with a short laugh, taking in your bright cheeks and happier smiles. “The farm must be booming, yes?”

His words were an understatement.

With the money that Manjiro had left for you, the farm had managed to stay afloat long for you to form a plan and pay off your primary debt; the plan being opening a strawberry taiyaki shop using the recipe you perfected together with him as the main attraction during those hot summer days when the tourists were after a lighter snack.

Manjiro had sent you an invoice for at least twenty packs of his favorite snack in a strawberry-glazed edition, sharing pictures of his men fighting over the last piece much to your wry delight. You missed him with every fiber of your being but remembered the promise he gave you before he left your tiny farm almost 12 months ago. In the world where you could still reach him, you counted each blessing, as well as every passing day that brought you closer to his arrival back into your life.

“What are your plans for Christmas, Y/N?” Iwata-san’s innocent question brought you out of your reverie and you fixed the man with a small smile.

“An old friend is coming to visit,” you told him and did not elaborate, even when he prodded you on it.

“Is it your boyfriend, Y/N-chan?” he teased you, unlike how you imagined your father would if he was still alive, incited by your blushing cheeks.

“Have a good Christmas, Iwata-san,” was all you said and waved goodbye, the box of strawberry taiyakis you left with him on the countertop the subject of his slightly confused stare before it lingered on your smiling face.

There was mail for you back home and you perused through stacks of advertisements for end-of-year sales, new shop lots opening around you, and a single white envelope with just your name written on it. Prying open the flap, a glossy card slipped out, with a picture of the Tokyo bridge on it, and three words written behind it that made your soul soar:

I’ll be coming home for Christmas. Wait for me, my love.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

“… and the latest territory our team has secured is— Mikey-san?”

The grating voice of Yamaguchi rang in his mind, bringing him back down to earth. He turned his listless eyes to the large balding man beside him. It had been one year of working side by side with this mercenary agent to obtain a foothold in Seoul for their export of Glass—a new strain of molly strong enough to leave a person high for twice as long and could not be detected in a human’s system after five hours.

Many trials, negotiations, and arguments later, and Mikey was about done with this project. His mind was not in this meeting room—in fact, it wasn’t even in Tokyo—rather it was somewhere beyond the city skyline in a small farm that he was supposed to be traveling to an hour ago if it wasn’t for his secretary accidentally double-booking him.

Takeomi stepped in to bring his boss back up to speed. “Yamaguchi and his team were just listing down the confirmed entrance points of Glass and—”

Swiftly standing up, Mikey’s impulsive movement caused a pressing hush to blanket amongst all the men who eyed him with thinly veiled terror at what he would do next. But, the Bonten leader merely stretched his neck and zeroed his bored gaze onto Takeomi and Sanzu who were both waiting for his next command.

“You know my stance on this—make sure it’s wrapped up. I have to be somewhere.”

No one dared to impede him on his way out of the meeting room. Calling for his secretary to prepare his car, Mikey packed a bag full of his essentials along with a very important velvet square box that was currently in his pants pocket; driving himself down the highways he had dreamed of traveling on ever since that very day he left you alone outside by that gravel road.

The thick and choking fog of the city eventually made way for paddy fields as far as the eye could see, yawning ahead and all around him like a green embrace; welcoming him back like an old friend.

Driving way past the speed limit, Mikey could barely keep his excitement in, despite how he kept on fidgeting with the square box in his pocket, turning it this way and that in between his slim fingers. In what seemed like the longest two hours of non-stop driving in his life, he finally sighted the small sign that said welcome to Kawagoe; a few more minutes of settling his anxiety and he soon approached the tiny gravel road—the brown picket fences of your farm which he had once helped painted a landmark for the quick rush of felicity that flooded his heart at a sight he had dreamed of every night before he tried and failed to fall asleep.

At the sound of a familiar engine purr, your front door flew wide open.

Like the violet sunset that always appeared and lined his sights every evening, there you were—hair flowing in the wind, the hem of your floral dress whipping up as your eyes widened with recognition and filled with happy tears. You ran over to him, a piercing cry of his name leaving your lips.

“Manjiro!”

Mikey had never heard his name uttered so sweetly in his life.

Fumbling for the door handle, he nearly tore it off in his haste to reach to you and the moment you slammed into his embrace, the both of you released simultaneous sobs of relief. With his heart in his throat, he could barely keep himself upright. For you, he had appeared just like a dream, the snowfall barely fazing you as you glanced up at him, snowflakes beading the tips of your eyelashes as it hit you that you both were no longer under different skies.

He was here. He was right in front of you. Manjiro was back in your arms.

Burying your face in his shoulder, you expelled a stuttering sob that had him pressing soft kisses into your strawberry-scented hair; a scent that was more important to him than oxygen right now.

“I’m here, my love. I won’t lose you again, I’m here. I’m here.”

His reassurances were met by your shaky sobs and equally trembling nods. “You’re still exactly as I remember you; I was so afraid of time and that I would not be able to see you again. I missed you, Manjiro.”

Your choked rendition of his name broke the last strand of his patience to be gentle with you. Falling into the black hole of your touch, he welcomed how it tore him apart, his lips crash landing into yours.

A quick gasp from you and he ignored Momo screeching at his heels, picking you up and bringing you back into the sacred warmth of your home. Legs locked around his waist, mouth molded on his was how your back met the wall, his touch healing the ache you felt for him for the past one year; the cracks sealing over. Like a mountain of yearning that was blown into dust, its weight disappeared from your shoulders.

Clawing at his shirt, he swiftly removed it, your dress all but flung to the floor in his haste to feel more of you. The fire was roaring and its warmth spilled over your two twined figures on the couch, his lips now on the juncture of your neck.

“Y/N,” he breathed and you missed how your name sounded from his mouth. Picking your hand and placing it on his chest in a heart-achingly familiar manner, the tears smarted in your eyes once more. “You’re in front of me, you’re here. I won’t ever let you go again.”

“Please, Manji,” you choked out, close to tears from the immense pressure of missing him. “N-need you. I’ve waited too long for you.”

He fulfilled all your desires and more, leaving you holding onto him like he was your anchor in the middle of a stormy sea when you were his fate that he had dreamed of making his own since that day he left half of his heart on this little farm.

Your throat hoarse from crying out his name and his body pulsing in satisfaction, the both of you allowed the delight of this long-awaited reunion to fracture all around you like the most tender afterglow. You brushed back his silver hair, touching his dark circles, drinking in his features with a fervor that he returned. Heart finally full of him, you leaned forward and touched your forehead with his.

“Manji,” you exhaled his name. “I love you.”

But, he did not reply to you, thinking this was a good enough time for what he had planned to do next. Leaning over you to rummage in his pants pocket, his closed fist hovered in your periphery and when you turned your face, a diamond nestled in folds of velvet waited to greet you.

Eyes growing wide, you scrambled to sit up, the woolen couch cover around your figure almost slipping off as the ring he held in his palm carved itself into your recognition.

“Manjiro,” you breathed and touched your eyes to his dark ones. In them, an unnamed emotion was roiling and you almost could not believe what he was about to do.

“I know a year of just texting and calling is not enough, but I want to do you right, my love,” he said in a soft voice, brushing back your hair and tucking a stray strand behind your ear. “So will you finally ease my suffering and stay with me… forever?”

Turning lachrymose wide eyes to him, you touched your chest, too overwhelmed to speak. “Manjiro, a-are you sure?”

“I’m so sure, baby,” the young man replied, taking your hand in his free one, the other one holding the promise of a lifetime together shaking slightly. “I will protect you; I will do everything in my power to make sure we’re both safe. You leave all the worrying to me, okay? All you have to do is just say yes, my love.”

The answer slipped from your tongue the moment he quietened.

“Yes. A hundred, million times—yes.”

Both of your hands trembled­—his when he wrapped the engagement band around your finger, and yours when you held it up to the fire to catch its glint. The ring was modest yet beautiful, a simple band and small diamond not too ostentatious but undeniable in its implications. A lifetime with Manjiro—what a heavenly thought.

His lips met yours and you leaned into the kiss, his reciprocated emotions loud enough in the silence for you to sense its unraveling. I am so fucking happy.

The sounds of twin engines had been completely missed by the both of you. Before you could deepen the kiss or playfully nip his bottom lip, a loud, “Jiji—my girl! I missed you!” caught you both off-guard; the front door fell wide open to reveal six towering figures.

In the blink of an eye, a warning shot ricocheted past their heads, the gun in Mikey’s hand smoking. You yelped and buried your face in his neck, your mind immediately shifting to how the hell he was fast enough to whip out his weapon even without you realizing it.

Shielding you with his figure, Mikey glared at all of his other executives. “Just what the hell are you all doing here?”

Kakucho, to his credit, did not drop the turkey he was holding due to his boss’ shot or even the sight of both your near-naked forms. Sanzu, who was carrying a maa-ing Jiji that was nipping the ends of his pink hair affectionately, snickered at the sight before him.

“Were we interrupting something?”

In a flash, Mikey threw his shirt at his second, wiping away his smart retorts and lewd smile with a face-full of cotton. Ran laughed at his superior’s pout while the rest of them pointedly looked away, mortified at having caught their boss with his pants literally down. One quick terse command from Mikey and they all left you alone to get changed. Despite the moment that was interrupted, your heart swelled to twice its size and like an image that came into your mind, you could picture a laden table filled with seven familiar figures, their laughter lighting up the air.

“You didn’t tell me they were coming,” you teased.

“Neither did they,” Mikey replied back testily, but you could tell he was happy at having his close friends around, especially when they caught sight of the ring on your finger. Raucous cheers and claps resounded in your small home, their congratulations bouncing and reflecting in Mikey’s rare smiles at the sight of his two worlds seamlessly blending together.

As for you…

After praying for an eternity with him, you had gotten your wish. Mikey was here. Forever, in your heart, and by your side.

Forever.

Though the start of your love story was less than ideal, it was all because of fate that brought him to you—perhaps fate and your father’s meddling, if you so recalled your tearful pleas to him for a sign.

And look where it has gotten you.

Despite the dark winter and the coming cold nights, you were still able to smile. Because of him, you could fully live today and because of you, he would never be lonely again.

Tis’ was the most precious season to live in each other’s eyes and hearts for the rest of your lives.

THE END

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy and repost

[maximoffcarter]

Only love can hurt like this.

Pairings: Wanda x reader

Summary: What started as a normal day in y/n's favorite coffee shop, turned out to be the start of her new life.

A/n: It's been a while guys. I gotta give credit to this game called 'a new life' (I actually spent $3 to buy this to only make me cry). But I gotta say it's a beautiful story even with the alternative endings. This is angst, had to come back with angst of course, cause why not. I hope you guys enjoy. If this goes well...there might be a second part...

Warnings: covid mentioned, angst.

Moving to New York was definitely a new beginning for y/n; away from her family, studying arts, living in the dream city, everything was perfect or…everything should be perfect. But it wasn’t…why? She didn’t know, she was confused. How was it possible? If her mother knew she didn’t feel 100%, she would ask her to go back and tell her again how it wasn’t a good idea. But she was willing to accomplish her dreams, she was willing to find that happiness she was lacking. She could do it.

She was on her break from class, she felt she was about to pass out since she hadn’t eaten anything at all. She was used to it, but the longer she went without eating, the worst she felt. She finally found a table away from people, it was her favorite place to be, a small coffee place where she found the best coffee and best sandwiches, it was the reward she waited all day to have.

She was focused on her sandwich and her drawing, the people around her completely ignored, she was in her own world, just like every day. She was focused on getting the last details of her drawing that she didn’t notice a brunette standing right behind her until she heard the angelical voice.

“Is this seat taken?”

Y/n looked up and her whole world once again stopped. She probably stared at her for a little longer than intended, nodding as she smiled. “Yes. I mean- no. It’s not.”

The brunette chuckled as she sat down and looked at y/n. “I’m sorry, all tables and seats are taken.”

“No worries, I could always use some company.” Y/n chuckled. She then tilted her head as she stared at the girl. “Aren’t you…I know you from somewhere…”

“Wanda Maximoff.” Wanda smiled.

“Witchy powers?” Y/n smiled.

Wanda raised her brow. “Thought only Stark say that.”

Y/n chuckled. “I’m sorry.” She shrugged. “I actually think your powers are pretty cool. The most powerful of them.” She said almost quietly as she looked back down.

Wanda blushed as she looked away. “I wouldn’t say that but…thank you.” She then looked up again. “You draw?”

Y/n nodded. “I study arts. I kinda have to.” She grinned as she looked back at Wanda.

“Can I see?” Y/n smiled as she handed the iPad. Wanda gasped softly as she smiled. “This is beautiful…uh…” she looked back at y/n as she chuckled. “I don’t think I caught your name.”

“Y/n…y/n y/l/n.” She smiled as she extended her hand for Wanda to take.

“Nice to meet you.” Wanda smiled.

_______________

There was not a single minute where y/n didn’t think about Wanda. Hours and hours talking, completely ignoring the fact that she had missed her two last classes of the day just because she wanted to stay with that beautiful green eyed. After exchanging numbers, Wanda had left, and y/n noticed Wanda had left her wallet just beside y/n’s coffee. She didn’t know if she was happy or worried that it had happened, but the moment she got a text from Wanda the next day, she knew for sure she was happy.

Witchy: please tell me u have my wallet and I didn’t give anyone free pass of it…

y/n: oh, why? U got a thousand dollars there?

Witchy: more like $5, is it enough for something?

y/n: could def buy myself a coffee ;)

Witchy: go ahead then, all yours :)

y/n: is there a place I can meet u, so I give it back? Without the $5 of course

Witchy: ahaha what if I take with me another $5 and we meet at that coffee again? Need to try that sandwich u had

y/n: sounds just perfect. 2 pm tomorrow?

Witchy: see you then!!

And suddenly, the sandwich became Wanda’s favorite food, or maybe the girl became her favorite person ever.

The following days, Wanda would wait y/n in the same table, at the same hour. It was now a routine for both of them. It wasn’t long after everyone at the compound heard about the new mysterious girl, and they had invited her over for a party. Pietro was happy that after all, Wanda was finally able to have a genuine smile on her face.

_______________

It wasn’t Wanda’s first time in y/n’s dorm, but after weeks of knowing each other, this time it felt so much different. Her eyes couldn’t leave y/n, she kept trying to concentrate on the guitar, but it was almost impossible, but she didn’t feel too guilty about it because time to time, she noticed y/n staring at her too. Wanda smiled as she played the guitar and y/n looked up from her drawing.

“I’m bored.” Y/n sighed.

“Hello bored, I’m Wanda.” Wanda grinned.

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes. “Thanks, Wanda.” She looked at the TV that was forgotten for a moment. She had entirely forgotten what they had been watching, but now the news plays on the screen, and y/n’s heart stopped for a moment as the details of a new virus were now all over the world. She looked back at Wanda then.

“You know…there’s a rumor going around that at the end of this semester, we are going to be studying from home…” y/n looked down at her hands. “They won’t let us stay in our dorms.”

Wanda looked up. “Is it because of the virus?”

Y/n nodded. “It’s spreading fast. The scholarship helps me with school, and I’m running out of savings.”

Wanda nodded. “We will find a way for you to stay here.”

Y/n shrugged. “Maybe…” she chuckled as she looked back at her iPad.

“How’s the drawing going?”

Y/n looked up and smiled. “It’s going great.”

“Can I see?” Wanda smiled.

“I uh…um…” she cleared her throat. “I just-“

“It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“When it’s done.” Y/n looked at Wanda and smiled.

Wanda nodded. “Sounds perfect.” She then continued with the guitar.

Y/n stared at her for a while, putting her iPad away and sat on her bed, tilting her head. “You play beautifully.”

“It’s nothing…just…some chords I remember from YouTube. And it comes included with having powers.” Wanda chuckled.

Y/n chuckled. “Right.” She sighed happily as she stared at her. “Wanda…”

“Yeah?” Wanda looked at her.

Y/n chewed on her lip nervously. “Can I kiss you?”

Wanda smiled widely, putting down the guitar carefully. “Yes.”

Y/n smiled as she stood up and walked to Wanda. She sat down beside her on the couch, she placed her hands carefully on Wanda’s neck and brought her closer to her, finally connecting their lips together. Both girls smiled softly, chuckling as the smile stopped them from kissing, but they weren’t even mad about it, not being able to help it. Wanda pulled her closer until y/n was on her lap, Wanda wrapping her arms around her waist and hugging her tightly as she kissed her.

“Is this even real?” Y/n asked against Wanda’s lips, her hands running through Wanda’s hair.

Wanda nodded. “I believe so.” She chuckled. “Is it…too soon to ask you to move in…with me? To the compound?”

Y/n furrowed her brows. “You mean-“

“I-I just…like…not to my room of c-course. I can…ask Stark to give you a room and then you can just-“

“I like the sound of that.” Y/n smiled. “Room or not, I think I’d still go to you every night if it means I’ll have you close to me.”

Wanda giggled. “Yes. I want that.” She pecked her lips softly. “I’ll talk to them today.”

Y/n smiled. “Thank you.”

_______________

Two whole months went by since the pandemic had started officially, it seemed like the whole world, the whole universe had stopped. Everything had been calm inside the compound, the whole routine had changed for them, but they had to admit it was good to not have to fight aliens, or crazy people every single day. Everyone seemed to be safe for now.

Wanda and y/n became much closer, making their relationship official, being together every single moment of the day -yes, even when y/n was in class, Wanda was right beside her.-. Y/n’s favorite thing to do, was watching Wanda train every day. Little by little, Wanda became more in control of her powers, and she loved watching that smile of proudness in Wanda.

But things were still happening in the outside world. She was even more stressed than she was before, she knew no one was immortal here, she had come to care about everyone who had decided to stay here. But mostly, she was scared to lose Wanda; she had come to find that her lack of happiness, was that she was alone in the big city, and the moment she met Wanda, she finally felt complete.

Wanda stretched as she finished her routine, turning her head to find y/n staring at her and then putting her focus back on her notebook. Wanda smiled as she found it cute, how she was always around Wanda and her journal went everywhere with her. She had found it funny how she had met her with an iPad, and she was now carrying a notebook around. Wanda slowly made her way to her, not even making the effort to be quiet as she noticed y/n had all her attention on the notebook.

“Detka…can I ask why you always have that around you?” Wanda grinned as she knelt in front of y/n.

Y/n looked up at Wanda and blushed. “Well…it’s my journal.” She laughed nervously. “I just…feel better having it with me.”

Wanda nodded. “That’s cute.” She smiled as she leaned in to kiss her forehead. “C’mon. I need to take a shower.” She stood up and proceeded to help y/n.

“Yes, you need it.” Y/n laughed as she wrapped her arm around Wanda’s waist.

“Mean.” Wanda chuckled as they started walking to the door. “Why you always sit on the floor?”

“It’s cold and comfy.” Y/n looked at Wanda as she smiled.

_______________

Y/n had been laying in the same position for the last few hours. She looked at Wanda and smiled, she looked so in peace and her breathing was the only thing that helped y/n stay calm and not panic. Her mind was filled with many thoughts, she had been trying to sleep but an impossible headache had taken over her, and it was impossible to even move.

She felt Wanda moving, which made her look up at Wanda again, smile forming on her lips. “Are you awake?” Y/n whispered softly.

“Yeah…I can feel someone staring at me and her thoughts are a little louder.” Wanda smiled as she opened her eyes and looked down at y/n. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

Y/n looked away as she laid her head on Wanda’s chest again. “I think the whole pandemic caused me anxiety.”

“It’s understandable. It’s a scary world.” Wanda played with y/n’s hair as she kissed her forehead. “But I’m here to protect you.”

Y/n smiled. “I know…but I’m still afraid.”

“I know.” Wanda sighed. “How long have you been getting these headaches?”

Y/n looked up at Wanda. “I- not for long. I think it’s the anxiety.”

“Are you sure? I can call Bruce.”

“I’m okay.” Y/n smiled. “I just want all of this to be over.”

“It will. At some point.” Wanda smiled. “We can travel then.”

“Travel?” Y/n chuckled. “You want to travel with me?”

“Of course. We can go anywhere…we can…make more memories for your journal. Not only the boring adventures we have here.” Wanda laughed.

Y/n laughed as she shrugged. “Meeting you was a new adventure.” She smiled. “I’m just glad the world is calm and…you get to stay with me.”

Wanda nodded. “You said it yourself. I’m powerful, I can take care of myself.”

Y/n nodded. “Yes. But I want to be selfish and keep you to myself.” Y/n leaned in and kissed Wanda softly.

“You have me.” Wanda kissed her lips again. “C’mon. Let’s get some sleep.” She hugged y/n tighter as she kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

_______________

Wanda moved from her current position as she tried to find the right spot to go back asleep, but the moment she didn’t feel y/n, she opened her eyes and looked around the bed and then around the room. She sighed as she noticed a small light on their desk, and her lover sitting right there.

Wanda sat down on the bed and rubbed her eyes, she was too sleepy to walk all the way to the desk, so she stared at her for a moment trying to find the right words to say; she didn’t want an argument or anything.

“Love? What time is it?”

Y/n turned to looked at the clock as she heard Wanda’s voice. “Fuck.” She whispered softly. “4:30 am.”

“Why are you up?”

Y/n sighed as she placed her hands on her head. “I uh…have to turn in a project. For work.”

Wanda sighed as she stood up and walked to y/n. “Detka…you’ve been working with them for 3 months…is it necessary? all this stress? You need to sleep.”

“I need to finish it before tomorrow.” She then looked at the clock. “Well…in 6 hours.”

Wanda massaged y/n’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “You’re already ahead. And you need sleep. You haven’t been feeling well.”

“And you think I’m sick?”

“I’m not sure if sick but…it’s definitely not common. Your headaches, the breathing-“

“Anxiety attacks. Nothing to worry about.”

Wanda turned the chair so y/n could look at her as she raised her brow. “I worry, because I love you.”

Y/n looked up at Wanda and nodded. “I’m fine I just…I guess it is stress.”

Wanda tilted her head. “Really?”

“Well…the breathing…”

“I know. I will call Bruce.”

“Wan, I-“

“I don’t want a no for an answer. If you won’t take care of yourself, I will.”

Y/n smiled softly. “Okay.”

Wanda smiled as she kissed her forehead. “Good girl.”

_______________

“Are you saying-“

“She’s positive. We don’t have to take her to a hospital but…she needs to be in quarantine. You should get tested too.” Bruce took off his glasses and looked at Wanda. “She’s not okay. Not…delicate but…we should’ve started treatment days ago.”

“I know I just…she kept saying it was stress and anxiety, and-“ Wanda sighed as she felt tears in her eyes. “She’ll be okay, right?”

Bruce nodded. “We’ll take care of her. I’ll stay.”

Wanda nodded. “Thanks.”

Wanda closed her door and got her phone out as she walked to the bed. The room didn’t feel the same anymore, some of y/n’s things were gone now, since they had moved her to a new room. Natasha joked and said it was the lonely room starting from now, since none of the had gotten the virus. Steve was the one who went in and helped Bruce check on y/n, since they both had said they didn’t want anyone else to get it.

Wanda felt lonely and devastated, she didn’t think y/n would be able to get the virus. She was sure she had gotten it in that stupid meeting that they made obligatory, where else could she get it from? But that didn’t matter anymore, she was sick, and they were apart…

Wanda waited for y/n to answer the videocall, trying to contain her tears just by the thought of her being alone and sick. She smiled the moment y/n appeared on the screen, feeling her heart beating fast.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

“Hey witchy.” Y/n smiled softly. “How are you?”

Wanda chuckled as she tried to hold back her tears. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine. Full of meds.” Y/n chuckled but was interrupted with coughing. “Sorry…I’ve had this cough since I was locked here.”

Wanda nodded. “I know. Bruce told me he had you with oxygen too.”

Y/n nodded. “Kinda low. I needed it. But no intubation until now. And…” she coughed. “…only a few more days.”

Wanda sniffled as she nodded. “I can’t wait.”

Y/n smiled sadly. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

“None of that. Forget it. You’ll be okay.” Wanda let some of her tears roll down her cheeks. She licked her lips slowly as she tried to stop the sobs. “We’ll get over this. We’ll be able to go out. Travel. So you can continue your journal.” Wanda smiled sadly.

“Yes.” Y/n smiled. “We will.”

“Have you been able to draw?”

Y/n nodded. “From my memories…yes.” She smiled. “I love you.”

Wanda furrowed her brows but smiled. “I love you more.”

“You know…” y/n stared at the screen for a moment and re-thought her words, not wanting to make Wanda sadder. “I miss your cuddles.”

Wanda giggled. “I miss hugging you and kissing you.” She smiled. “I can’t wait to do that.”

“I assume you tested negative.”

“I did. I’ll still get tested again after you finish quarantine.”

“I’m glad you didn’t get it. With that steamy contact we had a few days ago.” Y/n smirked.

Wanda laughed. “You’re an idiot.” She stared at the screen as she smiled. “My idiot.”

Y/n smiled. “Your idiot.”

_______________

“Are you sure?”

Bruce nodded. “Apparently. The doctor said after 10 days the virus was gone. Her cough is not entirely gone, but she’s no longer contagious.”

Wanda smiled. “Thank you, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded. “She’s getting a shower, but after that…all yours.” He chuckled as he walked out the room.

Wanda couldn’t help but smile even bigger at the news. She was finally going to be able to see her lover, not on a screen anymore; touch her, kiss her, hug her. She knew y/n still needed to rest, but she couldn’t be any happier. Wanda waited patiently on their room, looking at the door as her leg bounced.

The moment the door opened, Wanda jumped from the bed and into y/n’s arms, hugging her tightly. Y/n laughed as she wrapped her arms around the brunette, burying her face on Wanda’s neck. Wanda cried out of happiness as she held y/n, kissing her head, and feeling relieved.

“I missed you.” Wanda cried out.

“I missed you too.” Y/n smiled as she pulled away, gasping as she felt Wanda’s lips on hers. “Baby, I-“

“He said you’re not contagious. I just wanted to kiss you.” Wanda chuckled.

For the rest of the day, both girls stayed in their room cuddling and enjoying each other’s company, something they had been wanting for the last few days. It has been almost 2 whole years of both of them being together, and 15 days had been the longest time they had been apart from each other.

Every single night, Wanda stared at y/n and made sure she was okay. She kept checking for headaches, fever, anything. She knew she still had medicine, but she was still worried that y/n’s coughing was not gone. But she trusted Bruce…she was okay.

_______________

Another month went by, time going faster than they ever expected. Wanda had been working on a bucket list for both of them to accomplish as soon as the pandemic was over. She didn’t mean to keep y/n locked but she was truly afraid for her to go out, so she had said that if she needed to control her bosses’ minds, she would definitely do it.

It was around 3 am when Wanda felt a lot of moving on the bed. She thought she was dreaming until she felt y/n hitting the bed, she rapidly turned around and noticed y/n had a hard time breathing. Panic washed over her as she wasn’t sure what to do, she didn’t know when she had started screaming or how badly she was calling for help, but not even 10 seconds later, Steve, Bruce, Pietro, and Natasha were at the door.

Wanda tried to grab y/n but Natasha and Pietro kept pulling her back so Bruce could work on her. Wanda’s whole world stopped, she swore she could hear voices, but she didn’t understand what they were saying. She again started screaming when Steve carried y/n out of the room. She was unconscious…she was…

“Wanda…”

Wanda opened her eyes and looked around the room. It had been a nightmare? She turned to her side and found it empty, making her heart shutter. She then looked back at Pietro, and she felt her eyes getting teary.

“Where is…what happened?”

Pietro sat down beside Wanda, and he sighed. “Apparently covid affected her lungs badly. They found clots on her lungs and…they were spreading.”

“Were?” Wanda asked scared.

“There’s nothing they can do.” Pietro looked down at his hands. “She has a machine that helps her breath. Her heart can stop any moment.”

Wanda felt her soul leave her body at the words, shocking her head rapidly. “This can’t…no. Pietro-“

“Go to her, Wanda.” Pietro looked at her.

Wanda didn’t waste another second and ran out of her room. She didn’t even need him to tell her where she was…she could feel her…barely. As soon as she arrived to the room, her whole world stopped as she stared at her. Wanda sobbed softly, shocking her head. Y/n turned to the door slowly, offering a sad smile.

“Witchy…”

Wanda walked to her and sat on the chair beside her bed. “Y/n…”

“I’m so sorry. I-“ Y/n coughed. “I c-couldn’t…stay…l-longer.”

Wanda shook her head. “No…don’t apologize. We didn’t know…”

Y/n nodded. “I w-wanted to…s-stay.”

“You’re here. And I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Wanda sobbed as she held y/n’s hand. “I love you. Oh, y/n. I love you so much.” She kissed her hand repeatedly.

Y/n smiled through her tears. “I love…you m-more. Please…forgi-forgive me.”

Wanda nodded. “I do. I forgive you, you did nothing wrong. You were nothing but sweet to me, you gave me love…you were always here. I’ll always love you.”

Y/n smiled. “Me too…” She turned her head slowly and pointed to the small table. “Would…would y-you…keep it s-safe?”

Wanda turned to the small table and smiled as she saw the journal. “I promise.”

Y/n smiled. “Thank you…f-for…everything.”

Wanda laid beside y/n, carefully moving closer to her, and wrapping their hands together. She kissed her over and over, all around her face as she cried.

7 hours. It lasted 7 hours. 7 hours until her heart had stopped entirely. Wanda had stayed with her and never left her side. She didn’t want to let go. She tried to read her mind, but it was blank…she was gone. She couldn’t feel her anymore. Her lover…had left.

She seemed neutral the next day, they had prepared a small ceremony just between them, in the back of the compound. She had tried to stay calm, not saying a word, not letting anyone come close to her. When she finally had the moment to be on her own, she finally had the courage to look at y/n’s journal. She carefully and slowly opened it, smiling at the beautiful drawings. She had only seen y/n using her iPad until she found out about this journal.

She remembered she had once joked about how she had gone back to the old ways and had gotten rid of the technology; y/n had only laughed. Her heart stopped as the next pages were drawings of her; sitting, smiling, laughing, training, sleeping. But then…she got to the most beautiful part; drawings of many of their times together. Memories they had made together in all this time. They were perfect.

Wanda sobbed as she kept looking at them, finally getting to the last part, which was them on a videocall, and then them cuddling, but…it was an unfished drawing. Her heart shutter as she noticed, and then her eyes laid on a small note.

Beautiful witchy,

I wasn’t able to say this when I was with you, and I know I’ll regret it, but in case I’m not able to ever do it, I am writing this note. I love you, more than words can explain. You were that part of me that I needed to feel complete; the moment I met you, I knew you would be the reason of my smile, of my laugh, of my happiness…I knew you would be my whole world.

I am so sorry I didn’t listen to you. I am so sorry that we never got to do all the thing we said we would do. I hate the thought of leaving you, and if that’s the case, I hope you can forgive me.

I’ll be with you everywhere you go. I know you like to write, not always, but you have a pretty handwriting…so continue this journal for me. Live. Love. Don’t stop yourself from growing. The world will soon need their heroes again, and you are the most powerful, so please. Keep. Going.

You are the love of my life, and I will always be grateful for the memories, the love, and the time you gave me. It was the best part of my life. You were the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me. I love you to the moon and back.

Forever yours, your idiot.

Wanda breathed heavily as she read over and over the note. She didn’t know where or how she started running, she could hear people calling for her, but she ignored everyone. She ran through the woods, away from everyone. The journal had been the only thing she had taken with her, the only thing that mattered.

She kept running until she tripped and fall on her knees, breathing heavily. She sobbed loudly as she hugged the journal, feeling a pressure on her chest that grew each moment she cried. She finally let herself scream, a red blast surrounding her, making a big hole around her where there were once trees.

Her eyes were now red, that pressure was still inside her, but she felt tired, she was exhausted. Did she do this? Most likely, but she didn’t care. She hugged the journal tighter, sobbing.

“Crying won’t bring her back.”

Wanda slowly looked behind her, her eyes turning red the moment she saw a figure behind her. “Who are you?”

“The name’s Agatha Harkness. Nice to meet you, dear. I finally found you.” Agatha smirked as she walked to her.

“Found me?”

“There’s a lot we need to discuss, but first…” Agatha knelt in front of her. “Crying won’t do anything, hun. I have a better solution for you.” Wanda furrowed her brows. “I can teach you…and tell you all you need to know.”

Wanda tilted her head as she stared at Agatha. “I-“

“Do you want her back?” Agatha raised her brow.

Wanda nodded. “I do.”

“Then come with me. Let’s have a chat.” Agatha stood up and extended her hand to help Wanda.

Wanda looked at the journal for a moment and took a deep breathe. She looked back at Agatha and grabbed her hand, standing up slowly. She would keep going. She swore she would. Anything for her lover.