#gears turning turning turning in my mind about this

[narnian-neverlander]

One Night Stands Only [Jason Todd x GN!Reader]

Summary: It’s obvious Jason only has one night stands - right?

Genre: fluff, tiny bit of hurt/comfort

Word Count: 4,6k

Warnings: none

A/N: Came across the DC Valentine’s special again and… yeah. Decided to do sth about it 💁

If you use any of my works for AI I will hunt you down for sport 😬

“You were right, it’s a nice place.” Bernard nods appraisingly, glancing around the newly opened bookstore, little café situated right in the middle. It’s not a new concept by any means, but the high ceilings and big windows allow the little natural light Gotham has to brighten the entire place and the cozy couches and booths scattered between shelves make for a nice and different respite from what the city usually has to offer. Tim hums in approval as he glances over the menu again. “Yeah; quiet, comfy, good coffee selection. I should thank the person who recommended it.”

“And who was that?” Bernard asks over his shoulder before greeting the girl working the counter and placing their order. Tim’s brows immediately furrow. “It was… I heard about it from… Uhm…” The blonde chuckles as he steers his boyfriend towards a nearby table, eyes flicking towards a corner sofa. “You think it might’ve been your brother?” Tim snorts. “Which one?” He receives a gesture at something behind him as an answer and finds Jason sitting on one of the couches a little further back, book propped open in his lap and a few more stacked on the small, round table in front of him and Tim nods. “Okay, sure, that tracks.” Bernard watches over Tim’s shoulder a few moments longer, then a small smile forms on his face. “I mean, yeah, it is a nice place for a date.”

Tim’s head snaps back around so fast it’s comical, a disbelieving, almost scandalized ‘Date?!’ out of his mouth before he can stop it. Sure enough, someone else has joined his brother, just in the process of placing two cups on the table - or trying to anyways; an almost impossible task with the amount of books already occupying the small space. And while he might not be able to hear either of you, he wouldn’t be part of a family of world class detectives if he couldn’t read lips.

‘Okay, should I just get like, a whole teapot now? How long do you plan on being here?’

‘Eh, not long.’

‘Jay, even you can’t read five books at once.’

‘Watch me.’

A cocky grin and an eyebrow waggle, which earns him an eye roll from the mystery person, albeit attached to a fond smile, followed by a shooing motion to scoot further down the sofa and make space, to which he obliges immediately. Tucked into Jason’s side, his arm coming around your shoulders entirely too naturally as both of you go back to your books, seemingly all settled and content to simply be in the other’s presence like this.

Tim turns back to his boyfriend with brows drawn together, lips pressed into a thin line and fingers tapping his chin in thought - and Bernard knows exactly what that look means. “Tim, switch outta detective mode. Your brother has a date, so what?” But the gears are clearly already turning and not stopping anytime soon. “It’s just… Jason only has one night stands.” It’s a look somewhere between surprise, disbelief and even offense before the blonde speaks up again. “Isn’t that a bit presumptuous? You don’t know if—“ Tim vehemently shakes his head to interrupt him. “No, no, I mean that’s literally what he told me; what he tells anyone from the family who asks, as far as I’m aware.”

Bernard’s eyes move over to the couch again, simply observing for a few seconds before he shrugs. “Well, one night stands don’t exclude a date. Or maybe he’s changed his mind. People are allowed to do that, you know.” he says with an easy grin right as the little round sensor on their table starts vibrating, indicating their order is ready. He snatches the device up and stands, placing a hand on Tim’s shoulder, effectively gaining his attention. “Either way, I don’t think it’s anything for you to lose sleep over. Or any of your business, to be honest. If he is in a relationship and you don’t know, I’m sure he has his reasons.” He grabs the hand Tim has been busy biting the cuticles off of and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Just let it go, detective.”

With that he’s gone to pick up their drinks, meanwhile Tim almost turns his head to look at the couple again, but ultimately decides against it, instead racking his brain for wether or not any of his other siblings ever mentioned Jason having a partner, but nothing comes to mind. Fingers drumming against the table, he’s one spiraling thought away from getting up and going over there to satisfy the annoying itch of curiosity, but then he watches Bernard walk back towards him, a coffee cup in each hand and a happy smile on his face, his own heart skipping a beat at the sight, and he realizes that his boyfriend’s right. It doesn’t matter right now, nor is it any of his business; if this is someone, important to Jason, he would tell them - in his own time.

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

“Okay I had my doubts, but that was pretty good.” Stephanie states as she stretches her arms over her head, following the crowds out of the theater into the big entrance hall. Cass grins and nods enthusiastically in agreement, while Babs only shrugs and hums in thought. “I mean, sure, it was good; solid storytelling, breathtaking visuals, but—“

“I still think the book’s better, though.”

They all know it’s exactly what the redhead was gonna say, but it doesn’t come from her. Even so, the voice is familiar and all three of their heads snap up almost in unison to look for the source.

A joyful laugh, from around the pillar a little ways in front of them, followed by, “That’s the most Jason thing you could’ve said, ya know.”

Now that voice isn’t familiar to any of them, neither is the person who appears in their field of view a second later, hands linked with someone still hidden by the pillar - not that it’s still much of a secret who it is.

“So? It’s still true.”

The soft grin on the stranger’s face morphs into something more mischievous. “Riiight. I’m sure you hated every second of this. That’s why I saw some tears during a scene or two.”

A squeak as the person gets yanked forward, disappearing from sight again; then laughs can be heard accompanied with, “It was dark, you didn’t see shit.”

The three girls exchange glances, all wide eyes and raised brows. Then they watch the couple walk out into the open of the entrance hall, towards the exit, one of Jason’s arm’s wrapped tightly around your shoulders as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Cassandra is the first to shake off the stupor, a soft smile spreading across her face. “They’re cute together.” she signs. “Yeeeaaahhh…” Steph starts, staring at the doors the two had just left through. “Too cute. And definitely too familiar to just be a one night stand.” The wicked grin is a telltale sign of trouble and Barbara pinches the bridge of her nose because it doesn’t bode well for anybody.

“Just leave it alone, Steph.”

“Oh come on!” the blonde complains. “He’s the one who’s been telling us for ages that he doesn’t do relationships and now he’s out here all sweet and cozy and lovey dovey with someone? And you’re not the least bit curious? I say we investigate!”

Barbara levels her with a blank stare. “And you don’t think that might be the exact reason he doesn’t tell us anything?” Stephanie narrows her eyes at the redhead in suspicion. It’s unlike her, unlike Oracle, not to want all the details of a situation. “Did you already know?”

“Whatever gives you that idea?”

“Because you know everything. And wouldn’t you—“

Barbara doesn’t let her finish. “Would you want a date to be interrupted by your siblings just cause they feel like annoying you? Pestering you about your partner? Jason isn’t the most open, conversational person at the best of times; what do you think is gonna happen if he catches onto your little investigation?”

Steph is about to argue back that sure, while there’s some personal entertainment value involved, she just doesn’t like the idea of someone she cares about being with someone she doesn’t know. What if they’re not a good person? What if they end up hurting him? What if—

Her thoughts are interrupted by a hand on her shoulder and she turns to find herself looking straight into Cass’ dark eyes, her expression serious.

“They really like him, don’t meddle.” she signs.

That takes some of the wind out of Stephanie’s sails and she visibly deflates a bit. “You, uh… you could tell, huh?” The black haired girl nods eagerly and Steph runs a hand through her hair in contemplation. People are an open book to Cassandra, without her ever having to have exchanged a single word with them. If she says you’re fine, that you truly like Jason and have no bad intentions, then… then Steph could leave it alone with an easy conscience. For now, anyways.

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

“Thank you for the assist, Master Richard, but I assure you, while welcome, it was not necessary.”

“It’s fine, Alfred.” Dick reassures while loading the last of the groceries into the back of the car. “I know you can handle the regular grocery shopping just fine, but it’s rare to have that many people at once at the manor; I’m glad to help out.”

The older man gives him a grateful smile in return, then plucks a piece of paper from inside his coat pocket and checks it over. “Oh dear, I do believe I’ve missed something.” he mumbles and hands the list over to Dick. “Master Richard, would you mind looking our current purchase over again, just in case? I’ll be right back.”

He watches Alfred hurry back towards the store, someone else exiting when he’s a few feet away from the entrance. A short exchange, quick thanks presumably, as the person holds the door open for him. Then you steer left, in his general direction and—

Hold on. He wasn’t here when him and Alfred got outta the store a few minutes ago.

The parking lot is situated lower than the actual store, some stairs to his right leading up to the higher level, so Dick takes a few steps backwards and cranes his neck back slightly, a leafless hedge partly blocking his view, but the tall, broad stature clad in a leather jacket and the black and white hair are a dead give away. He’s about to call out, surely his brother just didn’t spot him yet, but someone beats him to it.

“Okay, let’s go home.”

The person who’d just left the store. Most definitely talking to Jason. And you seem more than a little annoyed and exasperated.

Meanwhile his brother looks like he’s trying not to burst out laughing.

“What?” the mystery person barks, eyes narrowed at the tall man suspiciously.

“I know I did not just watch you whack an old lady over the head with a magazine cause she tried to take the steak from you.”

“It was the last one!” you complain and the tension bleeds from Dick’s shoulders as he realizes that this is in no way a serious altercation. “Besides, Constance had it coming, not the first time she tried to pull a stunt like that; she’s a fucking menace to everybody.”

Silence for a few long seconds. Then, “If you laugh right now, I swear to God I’m leaving you out on the street tonight, Todd.”

Jason snorts. “And then who’s gonna make the food you fought so hard to get? Sure as shit not you; last time I left you alone with the stove, I thought Firefly had broken into the apartment.”

Dick watches his brother’s conversation partner huff, arms crossed over your chest in defiance as you stare Jason down - until your shoulders sag in defeat and you break eye contact, because apparently, he’s right. “You’re lucky you’ve got other talents besides just being pretty, you know that?”

Jason takes the bags from you, met with only mild complaints, as he grins. “You think I’m pretty? Aw, thanks, babe.” You roll your eyes at that, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of your lips either way. “Leave the corny flirting to Nightwing, it doesn’t suit you.” And Jason actually has the audacity to scrunch up his face in distaste. “Hey now. I was only teasing you; comparing me to him is a straight up insult, take it back.”

“Make me~” you taunt with a sing-song voice and a mirthful smirk, then take off full speed in the opposite direction, past the store, with Jason hot on your heels not a second later.

And Dick hasn’t seen his little brother wear a smile that big in such a long time, he almost forgets to be offended.

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

Damian isn’t sure why he’s even here. It’s not like this has any actual academic value for him.

That’s Chrysaora fuscescens.

Over there, Hippocampus hippocampus.

And that one’s Anguilla dieffenbachii.

He’s studied all these creatures and more before and even if he wouldn’t learn anything new about aquatic dwellers, his father had insisted on him going on this field trip. Something about a chance to ‘improve his social skills’.

Tt.

If that’s the mission he’d been given, he’d succeed. Even if he thought it utterly unnecessary. At least he could do it in the presence of one of the most beautiful creatures on the planet, the mighty—

“Shark! Jason, look, there it is!”

With the level of excitement, one would think it’s coming from a child, but no, it’s very much an adult, standing in front of the big glass tank, in the company of Todd of all people. Damian slows his steps to a halt, coming from one of the smaller side entrances that lead to the huge room, and simply observes from a safe distance.

“Uh huh, I see it. And I feel like now would be a good time to remind you that you have plenty of shark memorabilia and that we’ll simply be walking past the gift shop later.”

An inelegant snort, as the person side eyes him with amusement. “Would now be a good time to remind you that we both know that’s not happening?”

Jason pinches the bridge of his nose as he heaves a sigh, but Damian detects no true malice in it. He’s seen him truly irritated, angry - this is nothing of the sort. Fond exasperation, if anything.

“I know they’re nowhere near as dangerous as the media likes to make them out to be,” Jason starts, “but I’m still not sure how you can look at something decidedly dangerous, built for killing, and think it’s… cute.”

The look he receives in return is one Damian can’t quite identify and apparently neither can his brother.

“What?”

“Really? You can’t figure that out?” You cross your arms over your chest and cock your head to the side in thought. “Well, I think you should meet my boyfriend, then. Cause ya know, he’s pretty dangerous and rough around the edges, too, and I still think he’s cute.”

Jason mimics your stance as he responds. “Oh, do you now?”

You nod eagerly, grinning ear to ear. “Of course. When he gets up all groggy with a bed head cause he works late? Cute. When he pretends to get annoyed at his best friend cause he called him a silly nickname? Cute. When—“ That’s as far you get, interrupted by your own squeal, as Jason brings one arm around your shoulders to pull you in and smoosh your face against his chest, the other around your waist so you can’t escape. “Yeah, yeah, got it; I think I’ve heard enough about that guy now.”

Meanwhile you’ve managed to gain enough wiggle room to loop your arms around his neck and pull back to look up at him, lopsided, lovesick smile plastered all over your face. “Sorry, I can’t help it sometimes; I love him very much.” And it’s embarrassing, Damian thinks, how fast Jason breaks, all affectionate grin and soft eyes, just because someone is batting their lashes at him. “Well, he’d be a fool not to love you back.”

Damian turns away in disgust right as the couple is about to share a kiss and retreats down the hallway he came from. He’d never taken Todd for a particularly… honorable man, but courting someone he knows to be in a relationship with someone else? That’s a vile breach of trust that he won’t stand for. And, if he bothered to be honest with himself, not something he could actually see Todd engaging in. Despite his many flaws, he’s proven himself a loyal man often enough. But Damian can’t ignore what he heard with his own ears, that would be disregarding incriminating evidence, so he’ll need to have a talk with his father as soon as he gets home.

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

You’re curled up on the couch book in hand when the front door all but flies open, your boyfriend hurrying inside and immediately locking the door behind him again. Before you even get a chance to greet him, he’s speeding through the rest of the apartment, making sure all the windows are shut tight and locked, too. You’ve put the book away, instead staring at him over the back of the couch with raised, quizzical brows when he comes back down the hallway into the living room, finally kicking off his boots at the entrance and hanging up his jacket. Then he beelines for the sofa, lifting up your legs to make room and plop himself down, settling your legs in his lap before he tips his head back and scrubs his hands over his face with a groan.

“Okay, Jay? I need you to talk to me; what kind of apocalypse should I be preparing for here?”

He doesn’t answer for a few long seconds, simply drops his hands from his face, his fingers coming to draw anxious patterns into your thighs instead. “Yeah, we’re totally busted. They know about you now.” And as miserable as he looks, as much as you know that spending time with his family is often draining and challenging for him, you can’t help the relieved laugh that bubbles up out of your throat, because with they way he’d just put your apartment on complete lockdown, you’d been expecting something - or someone - way worse.

Still chuckling, you grab one of his hands and squeeze. “Sweetheart, your family literally consists of detectives. In my opinion, we’re damn lucky to have even made it this long without them knowing.” He sighs, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “I’m not convinced Babs didn’t know before tonight. That woman knows everything.” While you’ve only heard stories and seen some pictures of the redhead, you have absolutely no trouble believing that. “So what happened, anyways?”

He mulls it over for a moment. “Well, I think it started when Damian tried to have me disowned.” You almost choke on nothing but air, a sound somewhere between a snort, a cough and a laugh leaving you. “Okay, you’ve completely lost me, babe.”

“Honestly, I was mostly just surprised I’m even still in the will.” A not so gentle nudge of your foot, an annoyed whine of his name because sure, you’d play along for now. Let him get the jokes and sass out of his system and pretend that you don’t see that the lazy grin he gives you is forced. That you don’t feel one his feet tapping the floor anxiously. That you don’t notice the way his eyes keep flicking towards the window and the door, like he’s expecting them to be kicked down any second now. “Apparently Damian saw us at the aquarium together and somehow assumed I’m your, uh, your mistress? And thought it dishonorable enough to bring up disowning me because of it.” Admittedly, picturing that elicits a real laugh, one you try to hide, but the next part still comes out as more of a wheeze than anything else. “And he just… what? Brought that up casually over dinner?” Jason shrugs. “Basically. Tried to talk my way outta it, but turns out some of the others saw us together, too, and things just spiraled from there.” It’s quiet for only a moment, then you, very much still intent on helping him distract himself from whatever it is that’s truly eating at him, but mixed with just a tad of entertained curiosity now, hit him with, “Well, yeah, makes sense; you have been getting sloppy.” His head shoots up from the back of the couch so fast you’re afraid his neck might snap and he actually looks offended. “How exactly is this my fault?”

“Come on, Jay. First couple of months of this relationship you wouldn’t even leave the house with me. Now? Grocery shopping, the movies, café dates, the aquarium - we’re barely apart, so it really was only a matter of time till they figured it out.” Rolling his eyes, he slides further down his seat and pouts, fully aware that technically you are correct - doesn’t mean he has to like it. “Great, helpful as ever, darling. And what do you, in your infinite wisdom, suggest we do about this now?” You regard him in silence for a moment: how he fiddles with your fingers, the set of his jaw, the furrow in his brows, the way every muscle in his body seems tense.

“Hey…” you murmur gently, interlacing your fingers. “Why do we have to do anything about this? What are you so worried about? I promise not to bite them when I meet them. Unless you want me to.” Careful prodding, still interlaced with humor - to let him know he can talk to you about it, but only if he wants to. He huffs out a quiet laugh, giving your intertwined hands a squeeze. “You can be such a gremlin sometimes, do you know that?” Bringing a hand to your chest in mock offense, you grin at him. “Oh, you do not get to call me a gremlin when you’re the one who consistently feeds me after midnight and gets me plenty wet.” The following eye brow waggle from your side is what breaks him; a full blown, joyful laugh as he shifts, picking you up and depositing you on his lap sideways, his arms encircling your middle, some of the previous tension visibly leaving his face. “See, that’s the exact kinda shit I don’t need you saying around them, cause I’ll never live that down.” Humming in thought, you get comfortable in your new position, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “Sounds like a you problem, though.” It earns you a playful pinch to your sides that has you batting at his arms and hands to try and get him to stop; a fruitless effort of course, but he eventually settles his hands back on your hips. In turn, you place a hand on his chest, feeling for his heartbeat; most definitely too fast for simply fooling around with and teasing you. He’s not just worried, he’s scared, so you decide the time for games is over. “I’m being serious, though, what’s the matter? This isn’t anything you actually need to be concerned over, is it? It’s really not that big of a deal. So what if they know about me? So what if I eventually meet them now; not like it’s gonna change anything between us.” It’s small and if you didn’t know him as well you did, you probably would’ve missed it or written it off as irrelevant: the way he ever so slightly flinches at the last part.

Bingo.

But you don’t push, you know better. You let him get his thoughts in order, shifting restlessly beneath you while he does and let him answer in his own time.

“It’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.”

A sigh, then you feel him rest his cheek on the top of your head.

“I dunno. Being around you is always so… easy. Comforting. Being with them isn’t. It’s complicated and it’s messy and overall just exhausting, most of the time. It’s not all bad, just…” He shakes his head slightly, like he’s trying to get rid of an onslaught of memories; good or bad, you’re not entirely sure. “I guess I just don’t want them rubbing off on you, is all.” Pulling back to look at him, you find his eyes elsewhere, anywhere but you, desperate to avoid your scrutiny. “In other words, you’re worried your relationship with them, their opinions of you, are gonna affect mine, right?” He still can’t bring himself to look at you when he mumbles, “Basically…”

You shuffle about until you get your legs back under you, straddling him and cupping his face in your palms, running your thumbs along his cheek bones until he willingly brings his unnaturally green eyes back to yours and you feel like your heart might crack at the uncertainty you find there. “You’re forgetting that, aside from you, I’m probably the most stubborn person in this city; once I’ve made up my mind, it’s hard to change it. If anything, you should be worried about me not shutting the fuck up about how amazing and wonderful you are around them.” He scoffs and tries to turn his head out of your hold, but you refuse to let go and press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose instead, effectively stunning him into obedience. “Uh uh, you’re not going anywhere, I’m not finished yet. I’m on your side, okay? Even if it feels like nobody else is. I’m judging you based on my experiences with you, not theirs. And sure, not everything’s been great; you’re not perfect and neither am I, but that’s human. We live and we learn and we fuck up and then we try again. And I know you try, Jason. Every day, I know you’re trying. Trying to navigate a second life you never asked for. Trying to live in a body that never feels right, no matter how much time passes. Trying to mend the bonds with a family that more often than not still sees the ghost of a boy looking back at them, instead of the man you’ve become. Trying to make things better in this city, so that no one has to go through the same things you did. And nothing your family could say or do or show me is ever gonna change what I see with my own eyes.” He’s been silent this entire time, letting you speak, but you watched his shoulders slump, the tension that’s kept him wound up like a spring finally dissipating, and his own hands are now gently holding onto your wrists.

“And what do you see?”

It’s barely above a whisper, so quiet, you almost miss it despite how close you are.

You don’t have all the answers. You don’t actually know what meeting his family is gonna be like, how it might affect your relationship, but this? Oh, this you can answer just fine.

“A man who’s scarred and deeply flawed, but is still trying to do better, to be better. A man who wants to make up for the mistakes he did make, but sometimes nobody cares to listen. A man who, for all his efforts to appear ruthless, is still the most caring person I know. I see a man who, despite life never having been kind to him, retained a kind soul.”

And with the way he’s looking at you right now? Nothing but wonder and admiration and affection written all over his face? How could you not be sure about what you’re gonna say next? Sure that no one, absolutely no one, would ever be able to change your mind about him.

“I see the love of my life.”

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ a gift from japan ✦ nishimura riki

he's not getting boring is he? he's not being too different from what you were before right? even if you say things to reassure him, it'll just bug his mind over and over … maybe he needs some ideas to spice it up? hmmm … i mean googling about it shouldn't hurt …

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — nishimura riki x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — fluff, lil cracky, will be suggestive, implied male!reader, implied long time relationship with riki, childhood friends (?), something's definitely going to happen and I will be SEATED

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — UHHH just know that ni-ki did this to himself, this is his FAULT for being so fuckin cute AFAGFRGFHRGHHGHHH!!!! dissapears from the face of the earth

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.3k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ looking for my main masterlist? — here's the legacy one!

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

You sighed, rolling your stiff shoulders as you pushed open the front door, toeing off your shoes with a tired groan. Work had been a beast—endless meetings, last-minute revisions, and a client who seemed allergic to the word "deadline." All you wanted was to collapse onto the couch with your boyfriend and forget the world existed for a few hours.

But the moment you stepped inside, the air shifted.

The usual clutter of Ni-ki’s dance gear and half-empty water bottles was gone. The living room was dim, lit only by the warm glow of candles—real ones, not the battery-operated ones you usually kept around because someone had nearly set the curtains on fire last time. The scent of something—was that garlic?—drifted from the kitchen, mingling with something floral. Roses?

Your eyebrows shot up.

"Riki?"

No answer.

A quick sweep of the apartment revealed the dining table—set with your good plates, the ones you only pulled out for special occasions. A single red rose lay across your napkin. The pasta in the center looked… charred at the edges, but the effort was unmistakable.

Your chest warmed. Anniversary. You’d completely forgotten.

A rustling sound came from the bedroom. And then, a thud.

Oh have you already figured it out.

"Riki?" you called again, voice laced with amusement. "If you’re hiding in there, I swear—"

The door creaked open.

And then—

Holy shit.

There he stood, bathed in the golden light of the bedside lamp, completely naked—save for the disaster of red ribbons haphazardly wrapped around his body.

As the door creaked, he turned towards you, face struck with disaster seeing you seeing him still not ready.

A stash of ribbon looped around his waist like a belt, others tangled around his biceps in a way that looked more accidental than artistic.

A single bow sat crookedly on his hip, barely clinging on. His face was flushed, his usually confident smirk wobbling into something painfully unsure.

"Shi- I mean ... Surprise?" He said, voice cracking.

You blinked. And then, you lost it.

A loud, unfiltered laugh burst out of you, doubling you over as you clutched your stomach. *"Oh my god—*what—what is happening right now?!"

Ni-ki’s expression flickered between mortification and defiance. "I—I researched this!" he insisted, gesturing wildly—which only made the ribbon around his wrist slip further. "It was supposed to be romantic!"

"Romantic?" you wheezed. "You look like a craft store exploded on you!"

"I panicked!" he whined, trying—and failing—to adjust the mess of fabric. *"The tutorial made it look easy, but then I couldn’t—why is this so complicated?!"

"Tuto- they have this on Youtube?!" You wheezed.

"Tumblr, okay? Tumblr!" Ni-ki whined, his art piece moving around as his frame did.

You wiped tears from your eyes, stepping closer. "Okay, okay—let me help." You gently tugged at a loose ribbon near his collarbone. "This one’s just… hanging here. Were you trying to tie it like a scarf?"

Ni-ki groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "I give up. This is the worst anniversary surprise ever."

You bit back another laugh, cupping his cheeks. *"No, no—it’s perfect."

He peeked, slowly, through his slender fingers. "...Really?"

"Really," you grinned. "I mean, yeah, it’s ridiculous—but that’s you. My ridiculous, over-the-top, adorable boyfriend who—" You paused, eyes trailing down. "—somehow thought ribbons were the key to seduction."

Ni-ki pouted. "It worked, though."

You snorted. "Did it?"

"You’re looking," he pointed out smugly.

"Hard not to when you’re basically a present with a bow on your—" You gestured vaguely. "—well, everything."

He laughed then, bright and unrestrained, the sound melting into the apartment's quiet. For a moment, the absurdity of it all faded—the ribbons, the burnt pasta, the fact that you’d forgotten today was special. None of it mattered.

Because he was here. Yours.

You brushed a thumb over his cheek, voice softening. "You didn’t have to do all this, you know."

Ni-ki leaned into your touch, his earlier bravado fading into something quieter. "I wanted to. You’ve been working so hard… I just—" He hesitated. "I didn’t want you to think that ..."

'That?" You looked at him, with his eyes reciprocating a yearning gaze.

"That I was ... getting boring."

Your heart clenched.

"Hey," you murmured, pressing your forehead to his. "You could never be boring. You’re the guy who came up to me first when I was a new kid and showed me around Shibuya even though we hadn't told our parents about it."

Ni-ki laughed. "The same day too—"

"The same day too!" You chuckled. "That was my first day, and I went with the popular kid on a trip downtown!"

Both of you laughed at the memory, Ni-ki beating your arms as his body couldn't contain his laughter.

"Also, who proposed to me with a pack of those golden Haribo gummies he so hardly earned after a week and cried when I said yes. Who still tries to make me carry him to bed even though he's taller than me now—"

"You can still do it!" he protested.

"You're past 6 foot!"

"And I'm light as a feather—"

You kissed him.

Slow, sweet, lingering—until the tension in his shoulders melted away, until your hands found his waist, pulling him a bit closer.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were warm, his smile small but real.

"I love you," you whispered. "Ribbons or no ribbons."

Ni-ki exhaled, resting his head against your shoulder. "...Even if the pasta’s burnt?"

"Even then."

A beat of silence. Then—

"...So," he drawled, fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip. "Since you do like the ribbons…"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh my god."

"Wanna unwrap your gift?" His voice dropped, lips brushing your ear. "I hear it’s one of a kind."

You groaned, half-exasperated, half-aroused. "You’re impossible."

Ni-ki grinned, all teeth. "But you love me."

And as the candles flickered, as the pasta sat forgotten, as his hands slid under your shirt with far too much confidence for someone literally tangled in ribbons—

You couldn’t argue.

"Yeah," you breathed, tugging him back toward the bed. "I really do."

Right there, you could feel his warmth once again, bathing your lips in such sweet harmony.

The kiss deepened, slow and syrupy, his mouth against yours. The ridiculousness of the ribbons faded into the background—now all you could focus on was the way his hands slid up your back, the way his breath hitched when you bit his lower lip.

You pulled back just enough to murmur against his mouth, "So. These ribbons."

Ni-ki grinned, all mischief. "What about them?"

"They're everywhere," you laughed, plucking at the one draped over his shoulder. "How did you even manage to find the time and prepare all this?"

He huffed, but his cheeks flushed darker. "I just had time, you know? Also, it's harder than it looks." His fingers twitched against your waist. "Maybe you should... help me out."

"Oh?" You arched a brow, dragging a fingertip along the ribbon circling his wrist. "You want me to fix this mess?"

Ni-ki’s breath stuttered. "I want you to take it all off."

Your stomach flipped.

Slowly, teasingly, you tugged at the loose end of the ribbon around his wrist. It unraveled with a whisper of silk, pooling at his feet. Your fingers trailed up his arm, following the path of another ribbon—this one looped haphazardly around his bicep. You tugged, and it slipped free, revealing the smooth, sun-kissed skin beneath.

Ni-ki watched you with half-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling just a little faster now.

"Like what you see?" he murmured, voice rough.

You smirked. "I might."

Another ribbon, this one slung low around his waist, barely holding on. You tugged it free with a slow pull, letting your knuckles graze his hipbone. His breath caught.

"Tease," he accused, but he didn’t stop you.

You hummed, stepping closer, your chest nearly brushing his. "You wrapped yourself up like a present," you murmured, fingers skimming the last ribbon—the one pretending to cover him, tied in a loose bow at his hip. "What did you think was gonna happen?"

Ni-ki’s throat bobbed. "This," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Your fingers curled around the final ribbon.

"Happy anniversary," you whispered back—

And pulled.

 EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — okay i just had too THAT RECENT CLIP OF HIM RINGIN THE BELL AND PRESENTING HIMSELF?!?! HEAD TO TOE AS A GIFT?!?1 YES PLEASE?!?! so here is a fic based on that, you are SO welcome sahjfahfjas

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

[miiyoshi]

intro

iwaizumi x reader -- cw: nothing much but mention of mold wc: 543 // an: roomate!iwa series is happening !!

iwaizumi doesn't need a roommate, hell he didn't even want one until quite literally 5 seconds ago, when he had heard about how your apartment has become inhabitable.

"a mold infection?" he questions you over the phone,

"i know, it's crazy. that's probably why i've had that dry cough for weeks now," you respond as you start packing up your belongings in a box. "i'm going to have to move back home with my parents iwa, it sucks but i don't have anywhere else to go right now."

the line goes completely silent as the gears in iwaizumis brain start crunching together and an idea comes to his mind, but as confident as he is, the words don't seem to come out of his body at this instant. you'd think he hung up by how silent he is, but you don't hear the end call beeping either.

"iwa?" you snap him out of his daze.

"yeah, sorry.." he finally responds, he figures out the best way to propose his new idea to you. he doesn't want to sound too pushy or too available (as if he would ever not be available for you). "isn't your parents' place like a good two hour commute to work?"

he hears you sigh and he can imagine the pinch in your brows forming that comes out whenever your stressed, "yes," you responded, "but there's nowhere to-"

"come live with me then." his voice cuts through yours.

the line goes completely silent once again, this time because you are trying to wrap your head around what he just blurred out, "what was that?" you ask him to clarify.

"i said you can come live with me instead then."

"iwa, i don't know if i can-"

"my place is way more convenient for work than your parents'. i have a guest bedroom anyways, and there are two washrooms so it won't feel like we're some kids in college."

you sigh quietly but he hears you anyways, then a cute giggle that he's learned to love over the time he's known you. "okay then," you smile, "i'll move in with you iwa."

---

"this is the last box," iwaizumi grunts as he walks in his your shared apartment holding the box.

just offering you a place to stay was enough for him to do, so it was much to your surprise when iwaizumi also insisted that he can help you move. "you don't need to pay a fortune for a moving service if i'm here", he would tell you, giving you no choice but to accept his kind offers.

"thanks again for helping me, with everything," your bright eyes beamed at him and he almost stutters on his words, "it's nothing."

"dinner's on me today iwa, you've already done so much for me"

iwazumi mutters your name followed by a "you know you don't have-"

"but i want to," you take a step closer to him, "i'll even let you pick the place," you tease.

iwaizumi's been raised to always be giving and never ask for too much from others, but how can he turn down your offer with the way you smile up at him and pearly eyes locked with his?

"if you insist," he smiles back at you, "roomie."

[wigglesdtuff]

do you have any favorite one piece panels? or robin panels? from the manga :)

Sorry I took so long, I just have SO much I want to talk about. Since I have another ask about Robin panels, this one will focus on my favorite panels in general and I'll focus on Robin ones on that ask! These also aren't all just panels, some of them are pages/spreads. Some are emotional, some are aesthetic, and some are just funny. These are ones that impacted me specifically, and not all of them are like. Super iconic moments or ones I see a lot maybe? Some of them are. I'm rambling, this is a really long post. Sorry. I just love One Piece...

This is one of the first panels that hooked me in when I saw spoilers for Gear 5. It stuck with me SO much when I finally started the journey. There's so much joy and light in it, and intrigue with why Robin is sitting to the side. This panel will live in my heart forever.

I don't need to explain the emotional impact of the Summit War Saga, but I cannot applaud Oda enough for having the end of it being our hero weeping that he has his crew that he loves and that they're a light to the darkness he just went through.

I have a lot of attachment to characters who are young and have to grow up early, and Momo is like an insanely good example of this. But ALSO the way Luffy encourages his autonomy and his choice and hypes him up to fight for his own freedom alongside him. I just love these brothers.

It's a similar story with Bonney for me. The way he encourages her to fight for herself and what she's lost for her freedom - something SO important for her and Kuma - makes me cry. The faith she has in the future because of Luffy is just. So. Good. The things this manga has to say about joy in laughter, freedom, and creativity means SO MUCH TO ME. There's also something so special about the way she says she's been looking for him, and he responds that he's been with her the whole time. It's so.

I just think this is one of the best pages in the manga. Genuinely.

More Kuma, but I find this panel from the chapter that's technically "unfinished" to be so fucking gutwrenching. I know a lot of it was due to time constraints and Oda's a busy guy, but the way he couldn't finish THIS particular chapter honestly? Added to the emotional impact for me? I could totally be wrong, but to me it felt like he got too emotional working on it and combining that with the time constraints he had to turn it in as it was, and I personally love seeing an artist's hand in their work.

The whole Roger flashback shook me to my fucking core. This part and when he finds the poneglyph on Skypiea specifically.... Ugh. Ough. I can't wait to see this story come to an end, but I don't want it to end.

I can't not talk about Brook, but his encounter with Big Mom is so incredible for him as a character. We once again see how unshakable his loyalty is, and calling an emperor "young lady?" Oh my God the balls on this skeleton. Also, I adore Big Mom, she's my favorite villain. I'll have to gush about her sometime too.

I have a very special connection with Toko and Hiyori specifically. I also lost my dad (though I have a complicated relationship with him, he ultimately did what he could for me and I will always love and miss him deeply in a way that it's hard to express) a few years ago. The horror of losing a loved one and only being able to laugh is. So powerful, Oda was insane for SMILE. However, there's also something I'm attached to 'cause I remember very distinctly the day he passed, I went to lunch with some friends to have company, and I remember my friend telling me later that she knew I would be okay because I was laughing. It didn't really stick with her the same way it did with me, but for some reason that thought stuck in the back of my mind. IDK I'm rambling, but I find the message of laughter in One Piece being tied to freedom very very important to me.

Speaking of Hiyori, I gotta say, 1044 is what got me into One Piece, but I didn't see ANYONE talking about Hiyori's role in that chapter when I saw the spoilers, so I didn't even think about it until I read it myself. When I tell you her entire scene with Orochi gave me goosebumps I am being so fucking serious. She did not, and I repeat, she did NOT "interrupt" Gear 5. She fucking HERALDED IT.

(Here's two that I just find so incredibly funny with or without context) I feel like I'm missing some and I'll come back and edit them if I think of them, but these are the non Robin centric ones that have really stuck with me. I know there's some in Arlong Park and all that that I'm missing, but yeah. It feels wrong to cut it off here but if you made it this far, thank you for reading!!

There's also the Mural, but that one is like. Fucking crazy and we don't know the FULL significance yet so I'll leave my thoughts on that until later.

[mercaque]

The “hung up on his ex” complaint has such gross vibes… like if you willingly slept with someone in a super gross position of power over you and it’s taking time to come to terms with that, haha, fuck you, no pity for damaged goods.

People really will extol BG3’s portrayal of trauma and then turn around and shit on characters whose trauma is slightly inconvenient or (in their mind) not “sexy” enough. People will read autistic fans seeing themselves in Gale and then not connect the dots when they gleefully cackle that “Gale is just so BULLYABLE for some reason!” People will talk about the nuanced portrayal of sexual abuse in Astarion’s story and then laugh about Gale’s reaction to being coerced into a sexual scenario in the brothel.

People can like and dislike whoever they want, there are certainly characters who grind my gears for no real reason, but just like, admit that. I’m so tired of the hypocritical moralizing bullshit people engage in when it comes to Gale. Y’all are telling on yourselves more than you realize.

Year of our lord 2025 and people still record themselves on stream and in comments about how creepy and annoying Gale is.

‘Omg he never stops talking about his ex’

‘I cut off his hand lololol I’m so funny’

‘Nice guy energy he’s so gross’

Meanwhile any of the tiniest critiques about Astarion are met with vitriol. At best, ignored. While the I Hate Gale Fanclub continues to jerk themselves off about how happy they get when they press Netherese Orb.

You’re not cute. You don’t have to like him, that’s fine. You can dislike the unconditional love vibe of his romance. I know that’s not for everybody, that’s chill by me.

But the aggressive need to talk about how much you love killing him 2 years after the game has come out:

[paxaz535]

Northwood Ends

pazzi x oc

chapter 2

——-

note: idk why it took me so long but here it is.. i guess i was starting to loose hope?

——-

Carmen mentally prepared herself for the run ahead. Emma’s words echoed in her mind. What if one of them dies? What if she dies? It was a terrifying thought, the whole situation. It was enough to make her feel stressed, but there was no turning back.

“Car, you good?” Paige’s voice broke her thoughts, and Carmen looked up to see everyone geared up, weapons in hand. She glanced down, realizing she had only one shoe on. “Yeah, I am. My bad,” she muttered, putting on the other shoe and grabbing her knife. The house key was quickly tucked into her bra.

“Y’all ready?” Carmen asked, trying to steady her nerves. Everyone nodded, a small comfort, but it didn’t ease the tightness in her chest. She gave a curt nod before heading toward the door, opening it for the others to exit. As she locked the door behind her, she tucked the key securely away. “Okay. Since the outbreak is so fresh, there should be some essentials. But it’s a hit or miss. We need to stay on our toes.”

Kk raised her hand, a skeptical look on her face. Carmen raised an eyebrow, gesturing for her to speak.

“What if we run into people?” Kk’s voice was uncertain.

Carmen didn’t even have to think about it. “Defend yourself. By any means necessary. People will do anything for survival, so don’t hesitate to fight back.”

Kk didn’t look convinced but nodded. “Are we splitting up?” Emma asked, her tone neutral but with a hint of apprehension.

“No,” Carmen replied firmly. “Not yet, at least.”

Nika, looking confused, muttered, “What does that even mean?” She rolled her eyes but didn’t push it. The girls continued walking, tension hanging in the air.

As they neared the block, Carmen’s eyes caught sight of the mall sign, the red letters standing out against the fading sky.

“You guys see that?” Carmen asked, pointing.

“Yeah, hard to miss,” Paige muttered, eyeing Carmen’s tense posture.

Carmen didn’t respond, only nodded and pushed forward. But before they could take another step, a noise echoed from the woods. Carmen froze, her body instinctively going alert. The girls bumped into her, surprised by her sudden stop.

“The fuck?” Kk whispered.

Carmen shushed them, her eyes scanning the woods. “Did you hear that?” she asked.

Silence fell over the group as they all listened. The sound grew closer, causing Mia to flinch and step closer to Nika. Nika glanced at her, but the unease was mutual as their attention turned back to the woods. Carmen’s grip tightened around her knife as she moved to get a better look.

Then the noise stopped. Carmen peered into the trees, realizing it was just a rabbit. Her breath released in relief.

“False alarm,” Carmen said, her voice low, and a few girls sighed, grateful it wasn’t something more dangerous. “Let’s go.”

⸻

The mall was eerily quiet, with only a handful of cars scattered across the lot. The group moved cautiously, each one holding a weapon at the ready. When they reached the entrance, Carmen froze. There, just inside, was a body—still, unmoving.

“Was that a person?” Azzi asked, her voice shaky.

Carmen peered out from behind the car they were hiding behind. The body didn’t look human, and it took only a moment for her to realize it wasn’t a person at all. It was one of the infected.

She crouched down, motioning for the others to stay low. “It’s an infected. Blocking the door.”

Emani’s breath hitched. “If there’s one blocking the door, there have to be more inside, right?”

“I doubt it,” Carmen replied, her voice steady despite the weight of the situation. “The door’s still closed.”

But as Carmen prepared to move, two hands gripped her arm. Paige and Azzi were there, their faces filled with concern.

“What are you doing?” Paige asked.

Carmen met their gaze with resolve. “I’m going to take it out. We don’t have a choice.”

“Are you sure?” Azzi asked, her voice filled with doubt. Carmen nodded.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, her voice quiet but firm. Without another word, she moved toward the infected, her steps deliberate.

The group watched as Carmen silently approached the creature. With quick, practiced movements, she slipped behind it, wrapping her arm around its neck in a headlock. The infected struggled, but Carmen’s knife plunged deep into its throat, silencing it. The creature dropped to the ground, lifeless.

Carmen checked herself quickly, then turned back to the others. “Let’s go.”

Emma was the first to move, rushing toward Carmen. The rest followed, and Carmen pushed on the door. It took a few tries, but it finally creaked open. The inside of the mall felt cold and too quiet, sending a shiver through her.

Finger pressed to her lips, Carmen motioned for everyone to stay quiet. They entered the building cautiously, the soft click of their shoes echoing through the hall. Carmen’s gaze swept the area, settling on a store nearby. “In here,” she whispered.

Once inside, they took a collective breath, the weight of their actions settling in. Mia was the first to speak up, concern clear on her face. “Are you okay, Carmen? After… you know… killing it?”

Carmen gave her a tight smile, her eyes scanning the shelves. “I’m fine. Just stay sharp.”

“Look around for supplies,” she added, her voice steady. The others scattered, moving quietly between aisles. Carmen lingered by a rack of socks, scanning the shelves.

“Where are we gonna put all our stuff?” Kk asked, glancing around.

Carmen looked outside the window, her eyes catching the Marshall’s sign across the way. “There’s a Marshall’s. I’ll go check if they have bags.”

“No way,” Paige interjected, her voice firm. “You’re not going alone.”

Azzi nodded in agreement. Carmen felt a flicker of warmth at their concern, but she didn’t let it show. “You’re coming with?”

Without waiting for a reply, Carmen walked toward the door, her two companions trailing behind her.

As they entered Marshall’s, Carmen’s senses went on high alert. The flickering lights added to the eerie atmosphere. They moved quickly, weapons drawn, and soon found the aisle marked “Bags.”

“Why did you guys decide to come with me?” Carmen asked as they sifted through the shelves.

Paige shot her a quick glance, then focused on a bag. “Anything could happen. It’s not safe, and we’re staying at your place. We’ve got your back.”

Azzi spoke up then, her tone soft but genuine. “We’re in this together, right? We’re looking out for each other.”

Carmen didn’t respond immediately, a strange warmth filling her chest. It was odd, hearing that from them. She nodded, though, and grabbed three large bags. “Let’s load up and get back.”

When they returned to the group, Mia was holding up a cassette tape, her brow furrowed. “Found this by a pile of old electronics. Don’t know what it is, but it looks like it could still work.”

Carmen took the tape, her curiosity piqued. “I’ll upload it back at the house,” she said, tucking it into her bag.

“Let’s hit a few more stores and then head out,” Carmen said, though the unease in her stomach was growing. “I don’t like the vibe here.”

The group quickly gathered their things, and Carmen led the way toward the exit. As they checked a few more stores, the silence weighed heavily on them. It felt wrong, too quiet, as though the mall was waiting for something.

“Should we go upstairs?” Emani asked, glancing at the escalator.

Carmen looked up, eyeing the darkened upper level. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They made their way up, the escalator eerily still. Once upstairs, they noticed more stores and less of the cramped, empty feeling from below. “Let’s check out Bath & Body Works,” Kk suggested, pointing to the store.

“Yeah, good idea.” Carmen nodded, leading the group inside. But as they entered, a voice stopped them cold.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The sound of a gun being cocked echoed through the air, and instinctively, all of the girls raised their hands.

“Turn around,” the voice demanded.

They did, slowly, until they were facing a woman with brunette hair, a gun in her hand. She looked clean, her clothes neat and purposeful, but there was no mistaking the threat in her stance.

“I told you to give me a gun, Car,” Nyla said, her voice low, almost pleading.

“Shut up!” The voice was sharp, and the tension in the room exploded as the stranger leveled the gun at Nyla, who quickly went silent, backing off.

The stranger’s eyes narrowed as she scanned the group. “Who are you people?”

Carmen stared at her, her jaw tightening. “Why should we tell you when you’ve got a gun in our faces?”

The brunette’s glare deepened. “Because I don’t trust you.”

Behind Carmen, Nika smacked her lips. The atmosphere crackled with uncertainty, and it was clear things were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

Here’s the cleaned-up and slightly polished version of your scene, keeping your style and emotional vibe strong, especially focusing on Carmen’s heartbreak, the group’s urgency, and the apocalypse atmosphere:

⸻

“Do you really think we’d do something? You’re the one with a gun,” Paige said, eyeing the weapon cautiously. The girl holding it glanced around and, realizing no one else had a gun — only blades — slowly lowered her weapon and tucked it into her waistband.

The basketball players relaxed, putting their weapons away.

“The name’s Jamie,” the brunette introduced herself, keeping her distance from the group. “Found this mall around midnight.”

Carmen nodded, adjusting the strap on her bag. “Carmen.”

One by one, the rest of the group gave their names. Jamie nodded at each, still standing outside the store, hesitant to get too close.

“Wait…aren’t you guys t—” she started, but a sharp gasp cut her off.

They all turned just in time to see an arrow lodged in Jamie’s chest. She staggered back, gasping for breath.

“H-help me,” she choked out, falling to the floor, desperately trying to pull the arrow out but moving too slowly.

The girls stood frozen in shock, the scene unfolding too fast to fully register.

Carmen snapped out of it first, her eyes darting to where the arrow had come from — two figures stood in the distance, bows raised.

“GET DOWN!” Carmen yelled.

Everyone ducked as another arrow whizzed by, smashing a bottle of soap off the shelf nearby.

“We gotta get out of here!” Nyla cried, glancing at Carmen, who nodded quickly, scanning the area for a way out.

Emani, meanwhile, was frantically grabbing bottles of soap, lotion, and anything else they might need.

Another arrow flew, narrowly missing them. “Like NOW!”

They all bolted out of the store, sprinting towards the escalator. Carmen’s heart pounded in her chest, sure that the attackers were following close behind.

A sudden scream ripped through the air.

Carmen whipped around to see Emma, an arrow sticking out of her side.

“EMMA!” The Michigan girls screamed together.

They finally burst through the mall doors, slamming them shut and jamming them with a broken piece of metal. Carmen knew it wouldn’t hold for long.

Emma tried to limp toward Carmen but collapsed onto the concrete.

“Carmie…” she whimpered.

Carmen ran to her, immediately kneeling at her side. Blood was everywhere.

“Emma, stay with me,” Carmen begged, blinking back tears that blurred her vision.

“It hurts so much,” Emma sobbed, her glasses crooked on her face, her skin paling fast.

“We have to pull it out,” Paige said, grimacing at the sight.

Emma shook her head frantically. “I can’t, pl—”

“We have to,” Carmen cut her off, voice cracking. “If we don’t, you’ll die.”

Blood poured out faster, some of the girls looking away in horror, Nika pacing in circles with her hands gripping her head.

Carmen grabbed the arrow, bracing herself. She started pulling —

Emma screamed — a raw, heart-wrenching sound — and Carmen immediately let go, her own hands shaking.

“Em…”

The blood didn’t stop. It just kept coming.

Emma’s breathing slowed. Her body sagged.

“Emma?” Carmen whispered.

No response.

“Emma, wake up.” Carmen shook her gently.

Still nothing.

“Ems, don’t do this,” Emani whispered, crouched on the other side.

Emma’s eyes fluttered open briefly, finding Carmen’s. A small, weak smile touched her lips. Carmen’s heart shattered.

“Remember what I said?” Emma breathed out. Carmen’s tears fell freely now.

“Stop…” she pleaded, but Emma shook her head.

“I had a feeling…” Emma’s voice trailed into a whisper. “It’s—” Silence.

Her eyes flickered open again for a second, and she looked at all of them.

“Be safe…please,” she muttered.

Her eyes closed for the last time. Her body went limp.

“Emma?”

“Emma!” Carmen screamed, sobbing as she cradled her best friend’s lifeless body in her arms.

Emani knelt beside her, rubbing her back, tears streaming down her own face.

Suddenly, banging echoed from the doors.

“Fuck…that’s not gonna hold,” Nika said, stepping back as the door shuddered.

Carmen didn’t move, holding Emma tighter.

Paige crouched next to her. “Hey…” she said softly.

Carmen looked at her, barely seeing her through the tears.

“I know you’re hurting, but we have to go.”

Carmen shook her head. “We can’t leave her here.”

The banging grew louder. A screw popped out, hitting the ground with a metallic clink near Kk.

“She’s right, Car,” Mia said, pulling out her knife. “We have to move. Now.”

“I don’t wanna just leave her,” Carmen cried, clutching Emma’s body desperately.

Emani glanced around, desperate for an idea. She spotted a car nearby with a door hanging open.

“There!” she shouted. “We’ll put her in the car.”

It wasn’t perfect — hell, it wasn’t even right — but it was all they had.

With Emani and Paige’s help, Carmen lifted Emma’s body and rushed toward the car.

Behind them, the door rattled violently.

They gently placed Emma’s body across the backseat. Carmen hesitated, her hand lingering on Emma’s.

“We gotta go!” Ice yelled, already moving fast.

The others took off, but Carmen stayed frozen by the car.

“Come on, Car.” Emani grabbed her wrist and pulled her away.

Carmen’s eyes stayed glued to the black car, her heart breaking all over again.

The girls fled the scene just before the door crashed open behind them.

⸻

The walk back to the house was dead silent.

Paige, Emani, and Azzi kept glancing at Carmen, their hearts breaking at how quiet and spaced-out she looked.

No words. No jokes. No nothing.

Just Carmen, eyes locked on the road ahead, empty.

The Michigan team mourned their teammate. The 5 Stars mourned the friend they never truly got to know.

Carmen mourned her person.

Emma — sweet, funny, beautiful Emma — was gone. And nothing would ever be the same.

-

When everyone made it back to the house, the vibe was still off. No one spoke much as they silently moved around, putting things where they were needed.

Paige found a pack of Gatorade and tossed it into the fridge. Carmen stayed quiet, kicking off her shoes and setting her bag down by the kitchen. The others watched as she pulled out the cassette tape and made her way toward the back office. They all followed without a word.

Carmen sat in the office chair while the others formed a huddle around her. She hooked the tape player up to the computer and turned the volume up.

At first, only static filled the room.

Then, a voice crackled through the speakers — rushed and slightly panicked.

“Is this thing on? I’m not sure… but I’ll still say it. Something is coming. And it won’t be good for any of us.”

Even with Emma weighing heavy on her heart, Carmen leaned in, forcing herself to focus. She rolled her shoulders back and took a deep breath.

“The world is ending, and no one even knows. No one but me.”

The room was silent. Everyone listened, hanging on every word.

“These monsters… these abnormal creatures… it’s not safe. Not for anyone.”

Carmen remembered the paper she had found at the mall. She quickly pulled it from her bag and unfolded it just as the voice continued:

“Whoever finds this, consider yourself lucky. I’m already dead, but this will help you from becoming like me.”

Nika, standing closest to Carmen, noticed the paper in her hand. She tapped Carmen’s shoulder and nodded at it. Carmen understood immediately and handed it over.

“First and foremost — if you ever encounter spores, leave immediately. If you breathe them in, you’re infected. Instantly. You’ll need a gas mask to survive.”

The paper was passed around the circle before making its way back to Carmen.

“Now — the stages of infection.”

Everyone tensed.

“Stage One: Runners. They’re the easiest to kill. You’ll see them the most. Just don’t let them swarm you.”

Azzi looked over at Carmen. “Was that what attacked us at the mall?”

Carmen nodded.

“Stage Two: Stalkers. They’re exactly what they sound like. They crawl. They hide. They wait. And when you least expect it, they attack.”

Carmen’s mind raced.

Who was this person?

How did they know so much?

When was this even recorded?

Everything was confusing her — and terrifying her.

“Stage Three: Clickers. Easily the worst yet. They’re blind but have echolocation. They can hear everything. Do not — I repeat — do not move when they’re clicking. Stay out of their path and use stealth to kill them.”

The room chilled over. Goosebumps rose on their arms.

“Lastly, Stage Four: Bloaters and Shamblers. Both massive. Both deadly. They throw acid bombs. You’ll need more than a gun to take one down.”

Carmen scanned the faces around her — some girls looked terrified, others frozen in thought. This was real. And there was no stopping it.

She looked back at the computer as the recording sputtered out:

“That’s it… for now. I don’t know what else is coming… but just be prepared for th—”

The tape cut off abruptly.

Carmen blinked, heart pounding at the sudden silence.

“I don’t like this,” Nyla said, her voice low.

Everyone looked at Carmen, waiting.

Carmen’s chest tightened, but she forced herself to stay calm.

“We stay here,” she said firmly. “We don’t leave unless we have no other choice. It’s getting worse out there. I’m just glad we got what we needed when we did.”

The group nodded. There wasn’t much else they could do.

“What if something happens?” Mia asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” Carmen said.

Mia bit her lip. “What if… something breaks in? Or a group of infected shows up?”

Carmen exhaled. “Nothing’s gonna break in. I’m sure of it. But if it does… we evacuate. Find somewhere else.”

Ice looked around the house, hugging her knees. “I’ve actually grown to like it here.”

Carmen smiled faintly.

“You should teach us how to kill,” Kk said softly.

Carmen nodded. “Of course, Kk. I’ll teach you.”

⸻

Hours Later

The girls stuck to the house all day. Carmen found some old board games tucked away in a closet and pulled them out. Anything to keep their minds busy.

Right now, they were all in the living room, playing Charades.

Carmen was up, trying to guess what Mia was acting out.

Mia started jumping.

“Jumping!” Carmen yelled.

Mia shook her head, then made a circular motion with her arms.

Carmen’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What the—oh! Jump rope!” she cried out.

Mia grinned and flopped onto the couch, satisfied.

Now it was Carmen’s turn to pick who would guess next. She scanned the room, her eyes landing on Azzi.

“Hm… Azzi.”

Azzi playfully rolled her eyes and scooted up. “I suck at this, so go easy on me.”

The room laughed.

Carmen thought for a second, then sat in front of the coffee table. She scrunched her face into an angry expression and mimed typing furiously.

Azzi squinted, watching her. “Mad person?”

Carmen shook her head, still “typing” furiously.

“Angry?” Azzi tried.

Carmen nodded, encouraging.

“But what am I doing?”

Azzi studied her — the typing, the furrowed brow — while the others giggled quietly.

“Typing… an angry email?” Azzi guessed finally.

Carmen popped up, laughing. “And you said you sucked!”

Azzi shrugged with a grin.

“Yeah, that guess was a little too specific,” Kk teased, rolling her eyes.

Azzi waved her off, the whole room erupting in laughter.

Carmen hadn’t expected to feel even a little bit happy after everything that had happened — after losing Emma — but here she was, laughing with a group she once thought she hated.

The UConn girls… they were actually cool.

Carmen found herself wondering why they ever started hating each other in the first place.

She tried not to think about Emma too much — even though she knew Emma would’ve loved being here, in this moment.

Still, Carmen allowed herself to enjoy the people who were still with her.

“Okay, I’m gonna go shower!” Azzi announced, seeing that Nika was finally out of the bathroom.

The girls all nodded, the game winding down, the house — for now — feeling like a safe place again.

“You two might as well shower together — save me some hot water, please,” Kk teased, pointing at Azzi and Paige.

Carmen’s heart skipped at the words.

Why?

She glanced over at the couple. They exchanged a look.

“She’s right,” Paige said, smiling at her girlfriend.

Azzi sighed but stood up, Paige following right after.

“I’m gonna shower too,” Carmen said quickly, standing and grabbing her bag. She didn’t want to be around them right now. She didn’t know why — it wasn’t jealousy, was it? No, that would be weird.

But… was it?

She hurried downstairs and ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

In the mirror, she caught a glimpse of herself — and froze.

Blood stained her shirt.

Emma’s blood.

Carmen yanked the shirt off and threw it into the corner, not wanting to even look at it. Her throat tightened. She missed Emma. So much.

She needed her. Especially now.

She finished undressing and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash over her.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to stay strong.

She was so, so tired.

⸻

Later

Carmen wandered back into the living room, now in fresh clothes — sleep shorts, a Hello Kitty top, bonnet tied snugly. Most of the girls had changed too.

“You guys hungry?” she called from the kitchen.

“Yesss!” Kk groaned dramatically, making Carmen chuckle.

“Any suggestions?”

“I’m feeling a fat burger right now,” Ice said, rubbing her stomach.

Carmen nodded. “Sounds good. It’s settled!”

The others cheered halfheartedly, lounging around as Carmen pulled out everything she needed.

“Need some help?”

She looked up — and immediately regretted it.

Paige and Azzi stood by the fridge, towering over her, both dressed in black joggers and tanks that clung to their muscles. Paige’s hair was still damp, Azzi’s curls wild and free.

Carmen’s breath hitched.

“Carmen?” Paige’s voice snapped her out of it.

She blinked and looked down at her hands. “Uh… it’s okay. You don’t have to help.”

The couple didn’t move.

“You sure?” Azzi asked, stepping a little closer.

Carmen nodded quickly, molding the ground beef into patties. Her fingers shook slightly.

“Positive.”

Paige smirked, exchanging a look with Azzi before sitting down at the counter, directly in front of her.

“We’ll just keep you company then,” Paige said sweetly.

Carmen froze. She could feel their eyes on her. She tried to focus on the food, but her skin burned under their gaze.

“You really don’t have t—”

“We want to,” Paige cut her off.

Do they? Carmen wondered. Her heart raced. She was losing her tough shell — and she hated it.

She nodded stiffly, shaping the patties.

“So… how long you been cooking?” Azzi asked, her voice casual.

“Since I was thirteen,” Carmen answered, eyes flicking to her briefly. “You?”

Azzi laughed. “Only thing I can cook is eggs. Haven’t been cooking that long.”

Carmen cracked a smile.

“Paige?” she asked.

The blonde grinned. “I stay far away from the kitchen. I’ve only mastered breakfast food.”

Carmen chuckled. “Well, breakfast is the easiest thing to cook anyway.”

Their laughter blended, soft and easy, breaking the awkward tension.

Across the room, Nika and Mia glanced over at the commotion.

“I wonder what’s so funny,” Mia said, watching them.

“Your face is,” Nika deadpanned.

Mia whipped her head toward her, offended. Nika fought to hold in her laugh but lost, bursting out just as Mia flipped her off.

The whole house felt a little lighter for the first time all day.

The kitchen filled with the smell of sizzling beef, and Carmen flipped the patties expertly while still chatting with Paige and Azzi.

Mia wandered over, drawn by the smell. “Damn, Carmen, you tryna get adopted or something?” she joked, elbowing her lightly.

“Nah, just making sure y’all don’t starve and start eating each other,” Carmen shot back with a smirk.

The group laughed, the tension from earlier melting away.

“Imagine if Ice was the first one to go full zombie on us,” Kk said from the couch, grinning. “She’d be the fastest one too. We wouldn’t even stand a chance.”

“First of all,” Ice said, sitting up, “I would never eat y’all ugly asses. Second, if I did, Mia’s getting bit first.”

Mia gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “I’m the nicest one here!”

“Exactly. Easiest target,” Ice teased.

Even Carmen found herself cracking up, almost burning one of the burgers in the process. Paige reached over and gently nudged her hand back to the spatula.

“Focus, chef,” she teased.

Carmen rolled her eyes but smiled, secretly grateful for the attention.

They set up plates and Carmen started dishing out the burgers, tossing a bag of chips on the counter for everyone to grab from. The girls dug in immediately, chatting with their mouths half-full, passing water bottles around, and arguing over who was going to win the next round of Charades.

For a little while, it was easy to forget everything else.

The infected.

The ruined world outside.

Emma.

It felt like… normal.

Maybe not safe. But normal.

⸻

Later, after the food

Kk was sprawled out on the couch, groaning. “I ate too much. If we get attacked right now, just leave me. Save yourselves.”

“You say that like we’d actually come back for you,” Nika teased, tossing a pillow at her.

Carmen sat at the counter, legs swinging under her stool, sipping from a water bottle. Her body felt warm, full, sleepy. She looked over at Paige and Azzi, who were leaning against each other on the loveseat, both laughing quietly at something Kk said.

Carmen smiled to herself.

Maybe they could do this.

Maybe surviving wasn’t going to be so bad, after all.

⸻

Then—

A sharp, distant bang rattled the windows.

Everyone froze.

The girls looked at each other — silent, wide-eyed.

“What the hell was that?” Ice whispered.

Another bang. Closer.

Followed by something much worse — a shrill, blood-curdling scream.

Carmen’s heart slammed into her ribs. She shot off the stool, eyes scanning the windows, the doors, the darkened backyard through the cracked blinds.

“Everyone get away from the windows,” she said, her voice sharp, low.

The girls scrambled up, grabbing whatever they could — kitchen knives, baseball bats from the corner, even the lamp off the side table.

Carmen’s hands shook slightly as she locked the back door. Her mind raced.

Stay calm. Think.

“We turn off all the lights,” she said, breathing hard. “We stay quiet. And if anything gets in… we fight.”

Azzi stood next to her, gripping a crowbar. Paige was already scanning the front of the house, checking the windows.

Carmen met Azzi’s eyes — and for the first time, saw real fear in hers too.

It was happening.

And this time, it wasn’t just a tape warning them.

It was real.

The house had gone eerily still.

You could hear the faintest creaks of the floorboards as everyone shifted into defensive positions.

Then—

THUMPTHUMPTHUMPTHUMP

Heavy, frantic footsteps pounded down the street outside.

“Someone’s running,” Kk whispered.

“No,” Carmen said grimly, peeking out the window just enough to see.

“It’s not someone. It’s one of them.”

The Runner was fast — too fast — sprinting full speed toward the house. Its movements were jerky, unnatural, its mouth twisted open in a scream they could hear even with the windows closed.

It wasn’t even a question anymore. It was coming here.

“Get back!” Carmen shouted just as the Runner barreled into the front door, rattling it violently on its hinges.

The girls screamed, scattering.

“Hold it closed!” Carmen yelled, rushing forward. Azzi and Ice immediately followed, all three of them slamming their weight against the door.

The Runner on the other side shrieked and pounded harder, fists thudding against the wood with horrifying strength.

“How the hell did it find us?!” Mia cried out, clutching a kitchen knife like her life depended on it — because it did.

“We must’ve been too loud,” Paige said between gritted teeth, shoving against the door alongside Carmen.

“Kitchen!” Carmen barked. “There’s a sliding door in the kitchen! One of you check it—make sure it’s locked!”

Nika took off running, almost slipping on the wood floors. A moment later: “It’s locked!”

The door cracked slightly, a hairline fracture splitting down the middle.

“It’s gonna break it!” Ice shouted.

Carmen’s mind raced. If they let it inside, it could kill someone. But if they stayed like this, they’d all wear out and the door would break anyway.

They needed a plan. Fast.

Her eyes darted to the coat rack standing by the door — a heavy, solid piece of wood.

She pointed. “Ice, grab that. We’ll bash it when it gets through. Everyone else, weapons ready!”

There was no time to argue.

A final crash — the door burst open, slamming into the wall.

The Runner stumbled in, shrieking, arms flailing. Its eyes were wild, blood vessels bursting in its face, skin peeling at the mouth. It smelled of rot and dirt and death.

Carmen didn’t hesitate.

“Now!”

Ice swung the coat rack like a bat, connecting with a sickening CRACK against the Runner’s head. It reeled, but didn’t fall.

Paige lunged next, stabbing her kitchen knife deep into its side — it screamed, staggering toward her.

Azzi grabbed it by the back of its torn shirt and yanked, sending it stumbling backwards toward Carmen—

—who finished it with one brutal, clean stab to the temple with her own knife.

The Runner convulsed once — and collapsed, dead.

For a second, nobody moved.

Their heavy breathing filled the silence.

Then the realization hit.

They’d survived.

This time.

Carmen stood there, knife still buried in the infected’s skull, chest heaving. She looked up at the girls — some wide-eyed, some trembling, some stone-faced — and wiped her face with the back of her arm.

“First kill,” Ice muttered, staring down at the corpse.

“First of many,” Carmen said darkly.

Outside, somewhere distant but not distant enough, another faint scream echoed.

And just like that — the night wasn’t over yet.

“We need to block that door. Now,” Carmen said, snapping into leader mode before anyone could even process the kill.

The front door was barely hanging on its hinges — cracked and useless. They couldn’t count on it to hold anything back now.

“What do we use?!” Kk asked, her voice pitching slightly.

“Furniture,” Carmen answered immediately. “Big stuff. Tables, couches, anything heavy.”

Everyone scattered.

Mia and Nika pulled the coffee table across the floor with a screech. Ice and Paige grabbed the heavy armchair from the living room corner.

Carmen ripped down the curtain rods from the windows nearby, tossing them aside — anything that could be a weapon later, she’d save. She was already thinking three steps ahead: defend, reinforce, stockpile.

“Azzi,” she called, “check the back! If anything else is coming, we need to know now.”

Azzi nodded, sprinting to the kitchen and peeking through the blinds.

“Nothing yet!” she yelled back. “But we should still lock it up tighter!”

They piled the furniture against the busted door until it looked like a barricade in some post-apocalyptic movie. Heavy, messy, but sturdy enough to slow something down.

“Windows too,” Carmen said, pointing. “We can’t leave them like that.”

“How are we supposed to block windows?” Mia asked, already exhausted.

Carmen bit her lip. She didn’t want to say it — but they might have to break furniture apart.

“We’ll use the kitchen table,” she said grimly. “Break the legs off. Nail the wood over the lower windows.”

Nika paled. “We’re really doing this, huh?”

“We have to,” Carmen said firmly. “Unless you wanna wake up with one of those things breathing down your neck.”

That got everyone moving again.

The noise of them tearing the house apart was loud, messy, and desperate.

They pried legs off tables, grabbed tools from the garage (thank God your grandparents left behind a hammer and nails), and started boarding up the bottom half of all the windows. It wasn’t perfect, but it would buy them time if something else came.

“Top windows?” Kk asked, wiping sweat from her forehead.

Carmen shook her head. “Don’t waste energy. They’re too high. They’d have to climb up to reach those — and Runners don’t climb.”

(Yet, she thought darkly.)

The smell of blood still lingered from the dead Runner lying by the door. Nika and Ice dragged the body out and dumped it as far from the house as they could, gagging the whole time.

By the time they were done, night was pressing in around them, dark and heavy.

They gathered in the center of the house, surrounded by barricades, boarded windows, and scattered weapons.

For a moment, no one said anything.

Just the sound of crickets outside.

Just the sound of them breathing, alive.

Finally, Carmen spoke, voice low but steady:

“This is our base now. We fight for it. We survive.”

Everyone nodded.

Even if the cracks were already starting to show in their courage — they were still standing.

For now.

“We stay in the basement from now on. We might’ve barricaded this floor, but I don’t trust it. So everyone, gather everything and head downstairs,” Carmen said, her voice steady despite the nerves she was trying to push away.

Mia’s brows furrowed as she looked up. “Is there enough room for everyone down there? I mean, when it was just the five of us, we were cramped.” She gestured to the group, emphasizing the change in their numbers.

Carmen nodded, the weight of the decision settling on her shoulders. “It should be. Emma’s not here anymore, and I’ll sleep on the stairs if I have to.”

There was something about the way Carmen spoke that made Paige and Azzi pause. Both of them, without even realizing it, exchanged a glance. The selflessness in Carmen’s words wasn’t lost on either of them. They admired her bravery, her ability to keep pushing forward no matter the circumstances.

Azzi spoke first, voice softer than usual. “Okay.”

⸻

The stairs creaked underfoot as everyone made their way down, the air in the basement thick with tension and uncertainty. The space, already a little messy from earlier, seemed even smaller now that they were all crammed in. Mia was right — there wasn’t much room, but there was no other option.

The old couch was still pulled out like a bed, and two bean bags sat on the side, occupying whatever space was left.

“I’ll sleep on the bean bag,” Ice said, tossing her bag next to it as she settled in.

“Me too,” Kk added, plopping down onto the other one with a grin.

The rest of the girls looked around, trying to figure out how they would manage the rest of the space. Carmen gave a resigned sigh, scanning the area. “The rest of us should be able to fit on the couch. If not, I��ll sleep on the ground.”

Emani rolled her eyes, a small but playful smile tugging at her lips. “You’re not sleeping on the ground, Carmie.”

The others snickered at that, a brief moment of levity breaking through the tension. Emani was right — they couldn’t let Carmen sleep on the cold, hard floor after everything they’d been through.

“Alright, everyone get on the couch to see if we can fit,” Emani ordered with a mock-serious tone, and the group obeyed.

It was a tight squeeze, but somehow, they made it work. Azzi, Paige, and Carmen ended up laying beside each other on the couch, a tangle of limbs and warmth. It was cramped, but in a way, it was comforting. They could feel each other’s presence — the rhythm of their breathing syncing together in the silence of the basement.

Paige shifted slightly, her body pressed up against Carmen’s, and she looked over at Azzi, who was curled up next to her. They locked eyes for a moment, and despite the heaviness of the world outside, the three of them felt a little safer, a little more at peace, in that small, shared space.

“You know,” Azzi muttered softly from where she was nestled against Carmen’s side, “I thought this would feel worse, but it’s not so bad. Not with everyone here.”

Carmen let out a soft sigh, the exhaustion of the day starting to settle in her bones. “Yeah. We’re together. That’s all that matters right now.”

Paige nodded, closing her eyes for a moment. The weight of everything was still there, but with Azzi and Carmen beside her, she felt a little less burdened by it. A quiet sense of solidarity wrapped around them all.

They were tired, yes. But they had each other.

[karespocketboyfriends]

𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍

Chapter Eight

A Love and Deepspace Fanfiction (Sylus X OC)

Warnings -> None needed I so do believe

<- Chapter Seven

An original fan-fiction for Love and Deepspace. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.

I can't remember the last time the five of us spent time outside of the apartment together. Between me working overnight, Drew and Mateo working during the day, Simon and Troy going to school, there hasn't been much of a chance for us to all do something outside of meals or watch TV together. Though, to be fair, I don't think any of us were complaining about television time. It's a luxury we've only just been able to afford.

"I feel like the safest person in the world right now." I chip, practically skipping along the dark, damp streets, avoiding shattered glass and what suspiciously looks like blood splatter. "How many young women can say they can confidently walk down these streets with her four scary guard dogs?"

"Oh, so that's what we are to you? Nice." Mateo huffs, but there's no harshness to his voice. "Are we at least rottweilers?"

"You so are!" I snicker and bounce over to him, reaching up to pinch his cheek. "Rottweilers are actually big sucky babies."

He swats my hand away and shots me a glare.

"Can you watch where you're going?" Drew snaps, exasperated as he grabs my arm and pulls to the side, saving me from stepping on a scrap of metal. "The last thing anyone needs if for you to impale your foot on something."

"Let her." Troy, who's walking behind us with Simon in tow, says with a shrug. "If she gets hurt, then she has to stay home."

I spin around to face him, even though it means walking backwards. Dramatically, I slap my hand over my heart. "Is my sweet baby brother saying he's going to miss me? You do still love me!"

His eye twitches. "When have I ever said I didn't?"

Simon sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I should have stayed home."

I gasp and let myself fall backwards. Drew curses under his breath as he rushes to catch me. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Oh, the pain!" I wail into the shadowy sky. "Our dear Simon regrets this time he's spent with me! How will I ever heal this wound?"

"You're drawing attention. Stop it." Mateo snaps, snatching me from Drew so he can drag me along. "Aren't you flying out tonight? The sooner we get your prescription refilled, the sooner we can finish your other errands before you leave."

Mention of the flight turns my stomach into knots for multiple reasons. I've never been on a plane before, have never left the N109 Zone, even before the catastrophe. I'm excited to see a little chunk of the world, to see the sun and grass and trees that await our destination, but I'll be hundreds of miles away from my brothers, and I'll be gone for a few days. Our new home is monitored by security, but if something goes wrong, I won't be here.

The cruddy little pharmacy I know well comes into view, cutting off my worries before they can fester further. The bell above the barred door rings as it opens, the five of us shuffling inside. It's a cramped space, posters and advertisements that are yellowed with age plastered to the tile walls. I bypass the short, narrow aisles filled with medicine and head right to the long counter at the back, where a woman dressed in black is filling out some kind of log.

She looks up as I approach, her dark braids falling in front of her face. "What do you need?"

The look in her eyes is cold and assessing, much like every citizen in this city. She's on guard, her gaze shifting to my brothers who are browsing before returning to me. I can see the gears in her head turning, calculating the odds of a robbery.

I smile and pull out the empty pill bottle from my cross-body purse. "I just need this refilled, please."

She takes the bottle and reads the label. Her shoulders relax a smidge as she nods. "Give me a few."

Then she disappears into the back. This pharmacy, as run down and easy to miss as it is, has been the source of my refills since Dad up and left. Other than not being able to afford the prices at the higher-end places, the people here have never asked for proof of the prescription or follow up with my doctor. It's always a risk, but a necessary one. I don't even have a doctor to begin with. The catastrophe destroyed everything, the gang wars that followed destroyed even more. Doctors are for the rich, which until now, was out of my budget.

I should probably look into finding one soon. I'm stupid lucky that my protocore syndrome hasn't gotten out of hand all these years.

The woman returns with with the bottle fully filled. I pay her what's owed and drag my brothers back out into the dark.

"I really don't like this, Evie." Troy mutters as we move onto the next errand: buying more groceries so my brother's don't starve while I'm gone.

It's been a couple of weeks since we moved into the new apartment, and though we can afford to stock the fridge full, we haven't. An old habit that stops today. Even though none of us voice it, I think we're all holding our breaths and sparing our pennies, just in case this doesn't last.

"Guys," I sigh, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. "Look, I know I've been very secretive with work. I know that's not fair, especially to you two, Drew, Mateo. I ripped you guys a new one over your secret. I wouldn't be so quiet about it if it wasn't necessary."

Drew shoves his hands in his pockets. "No, we deserved the ripping. Mateo and I let our... habit, get in the way of our financial stability."

Mateo grunted in response.

Simon scrunches his nose. "I just don't understand why a babysitting gig has to be so classified. Who exactly are you working for?"

I swallow the lump in my throat. In truth, Sylus hasn't said that I couldn't tell them what I really do, but is talking openly about it safe for anyone? For my brothers, who could be targeted by enemies on the chance that they might know something? For Onychinus, who could suffer a breach in security if information were to get around? For Sylus, who hired me because he trusts me not to stick a knife in his back?

It's not that I don't trust my brothers to keep it to themselves. Honestly, with the meetings I've been accompanying Sylus on, they could already be on someone's radar.

The guilt is getting unbearable. I'm surprised I've managed to keep it in check for almost five months.

"Evie?" Simon calls my name, snapping me out of my trance.

I have to tell them something. Even if it's just a fragment of the truth, they deserve to know.

I roll my shoulders to release the tension building in them. "When I get back, I'll explain what I can. Just let me show you that my boss is a good man, and that I'm as safe as I can be, okay?"

As soon as I return, I'll be as honest with them as I safely can. No more lying.

Stepping inside the private jet, I whistle as I look around. "So this is what the inside of a private jet looks like. Those billionaire romances weren't far off."

The jet is nice. Very nice. The exterior is a sleek black, a perfect camouflage in the N109 Zone's sky. Both sides are lined with grey leather seats in a single row, each one a window seat. One of the sides is even missing a few seats in favor of a couch with black throw pillows, and mounted on the wall of the across from it looks to be a table that folds down. Grey carpet covers the floor, the cockpit sectioned off by a wall made of black marble. The bathroom appears to be on the opposite end of the jet.

I drop my carry-on bag on one end of the couch and place my book next to it. Then I turn to Sylus, who follows me in. "Are there on-flight snacks?"

He raises a brow, but snickers all the same. "Instead of picking the best seat, your first concern is food? You really are a chipmunk."

"You snooze, you lose!"

I jump as Luke and Kieran barge onto the plane, wrestling each other to get to their preferred seats. It's a mystery how they're not smacking limbs off every surface in their fight for the seats a few rows down.

Realizing our merry band is missing a member, I look around. "No Mephisto?"

"Not this time." Sylus says as he sinks onto the unoccupied side of the couch. "He'll keep an eye on things while we're away."

For some reason, my brain gets stuck on 'we'. There's likely no meaning behind it, a word said without much thought, but my heart doesn't play along. It skips a beat, because the possibility that Sylus now fully accepts me as part of his team rather than just an ordinary assistant...

...Well, it feels like family.

It isn't long before the pilot's voice comes through the intercom to warn us of take-off. I practically throw myself onto the nearest seat, which just so happens to be next to Sylus on the couch, and hold on for dear life. The take off sends my heart into my throat, the turbulence bumpy like a car going over a speedbump.

Is this what it's like to ride a roller-coaster?

"Nervous?" Sylus' voice is quiet. Not hushed, but private.

I look up at him, notice the steady calm in his pretty eyes. Something about seeing him so confident, so sure, chases what little fear I'm actually feeling away.

"A little first-time flyer jitters, yeah." I smile at him, and it's genuine. "But I don't dislike it. It feels like an adrenaline rush."

One corner of his lips curls up. "I thought fast moving things made you sick, kitten."

I shrug one shoulder. "Cars, yes, but I don't feel sick now."

The jet smooths out once it reaches its altitude, and a comfortable silence befalls us. The twins are playing a card game, Sylus relaxing while sipping on a glass of wine. That leaves me to snack on cheese cubes, crackers and mild kielbasa slices while reading more of the book I brought.

Galao's eyes darken as he looks at me, as he drinks in the blood coating my hands, my side, the floor. He takes one slow step towards me. Then another. Step after step until he's so close, that his slacks almost brush against my chest. Then slowly, oh so slowly, he sinks to one knee. His hands, marred with scars and burns from the long battles he's endured to hold onto his empire, reach for me. Cup my cheeks, tilts my head at different angles. I'm so exhausted I can't do anything to stop him. His slow exhale is loud in the silence, the rage in his dark eyes burning hotter than the fires of hell as he makes his demand. "Who?"

I can't help it. I cackle like a madwoman, the deliciousness of the scene so good I can no longer remain where I am. There's no controlling my body as I slide off the couch, my ass hitting the floor only for me to twist and rest my arms on the cushion I was just sitting on.

There's no need to look at Sylus to know he's pinching the bridge of his nose. "Evie, why are you sitting on the floor?"

"I'm guessing something big just happened in her book." Kieran says from where he and Luke are sitting. "Let me guess... only one bed trope?"

"No." I replay, eyes remaining glued to the page.

"Did they kiss yet?" Luke follows up.

I shake my head. "Nope."

"Soulmates?" Kieran tries again.

Luke gives it another shot. "He burned the world for her?"

"Wrong, and close."

"Ah!" Luke exclaims, sounding all smug. "Is it a 'who did this to you' moment?"

"Yes!" I squeak, body bouncing in anticipation. "Now he's confronting the guy who- OH MY GOD HE JUST BROKE THE HAND THAT TOUCHED HER!"

The sound that escapes me is something between a screech and a squeal. It's so loud that one of the pilot's uses the intercom to check in.

"Everything's fine." Sylus says, sounding mildly annoyed. "My assistant is just losing her mind over men that don't exist."

"Hot men that don't exist!" I correct him with a pointed glare.

I catch Kieran shaking his head in the corner of my eye. "And that, Boss, is why we chose to sit over here."

After six long hours, the jet finally lands. The good news is, I managed to finish the book on the flight and had enough time to yap Luke and Kieran's ears off about the entire plot from beginning to end. The bad news is, I finished the book and didn't have enough room in my luggage to bring a second one.

But... if there's time to drop by a bookstore while we're here...

The air in this city is different, cleaner, than the N109 Zone. It's refreshing but is also going to take time to get used to. Just breathing it in from the landing strip to the car and then to the hotel is enough to give me a mild headache. The event we've come for isn't until later tonight, so as long as I catch up on some sleep, I should be okay.

Stepping into the massive, several room suit Miss. Natalia reserved for us, I cover my mouth and yawn. This entire trip is her way of showing Sylus gratitude after his men successfully delivered the artifact from the dig site to the museum in this city. Tonight is the reveal, and she invited us to attend. When she first sent the invitations, I was so sure Sylus would refuse it.

Instead, he flashed me a smirk and asked, "Would you like to go?"

Luke and Kieran wave without a word and disappear into one of the bedrooms. I barely register Sylus at my side until he speaks. "Tired?"

"Getting there." I say, digging out my phone to check the time. "It's almost six in the morning."

Six in the morning. Outside the N109 Zone.

The rise of hope, of realization, almost makes my heart stop. It shocks the drowsiness out of my system, ignites an innocent wish I've held onto for so long. Reminds me of my little glass dragon waiting at home.

I drop my bag, forget about the suitcase that Sylus carried up for me, and run to the balcony. The different air makes my nose sting but I ignore it, my focus homed in on the horizon hiding behind the glass skyscrapers of the city. It's been pitch black outside since we got off the jet, got into the out of the car. But now-

Now, the faintest hue of pink kisses the inky blue in the far distance. I choke on a breath, too afraid to get my hopes up but knowing that nothing can stop the sun from doing what it was made to do: rise.

I hear footsteps behind me, but I don't turn away from the view. I can't afford to not burn this into my memory. So, I don't say anything, and neither does Sylus. He just stands there, at my side, a pillar of familiarity and steady calm.

The pink hue rises higher and higher. The starlight starts to fade, taking the crescent moon with it. That's another sight I'll have to fully appreciate later, since we don't have those back home either. Orange and yellow start to share the sky, and then comes the light. It's small at first, tiny, but with time it peeks more and more over the horizon until-

I choke on a sob, fat tears rolling down my cheeks as the sun comes into view. It's nearly blinding, so bright my eyes go blotchy, but I don't care. The higher the sun rises, the more light it casts, the more beautiful things I see. Trees, small flower gardens lining the streets below, birds chirping and flying, basic things my home once had and have long lost. Things I could only dream of but never fully hope to see again, even if I told myself otherwise.

I only snap out of it when something light and gentle touches my cheek. My head snaps towards Sylus, or rather his hand, as he catches one of my tears.

"Sorry." I sniffle, wiping my cheeks with the sleeves of my sweater. "I just.. I never thought I'd see the sun again."

"If you find something so beautiful that you want to cry about it, then cry." He says kindly. "Watching you be so open with how you feel is... refreshing."

I manage an awkward smile. "Even when I'm crying?"

"In my world, only those who aren't afraid to show weakness cry." Switching to my other cheek, he catches another tear. "Enjoy this, Evie. This is your vacation."

I tilt my head. "This is a business trip to keep good relations with Miss. Natalia, not a vacation."

Just like he did in my apartment all those weeks ago, Sylus smiles. "Is that why we're here?"

His hand falls, leaving my damp cheek feeling especially cold. He turns to head inside, but not before making a comment about me being careful as to not go over the railing.

Smiling, I face the sunset once more and use my phone's camera to take several pictures.

I'm so going to brag about this to my brothers later.

Once upon a time, many months ago, I looked in the mirror and saw a siren. A woman done up beautifully, but not even the makeup and the gown could hide the crack in her spirit.

It's not a siren I see now, but a phoenix. A woman who has risen from the ashes and is starting to find her way. She's wrapped in a black gown, one that only has a single sleeve for the right arm and starts below her shoulder, ending at her wrist. It hugs her chest, waist and hips, but offers free movement of her legs as it's not a true mermaid style, though it does still reach the floor. The sleeve and the right hip are adorned in black rhinestones, the pattern on the hip closely resembling a crow's wing. A slit starts just below it, the skin of her leg teased by a 'veil' of more rhinestones. Her hair, loose and wavy, has easygoing braids running across the sides of her head. Where they meet in the middle sits a hairpin in the design of a crow, the stick running through it's expanded, curved wings.

This time, there isn't a doubt that the woman in the mirror is me.

Deja vu washes over me as someone knocks on the door of my room. "Come in."

It's Sylus. I turn to face him fully as he steps inside, find myself holding my breath as he looks me over. Or, maybe I'm holding my breath because of how good he looks. At the gemstone auction, he was dressed in his typical 'boss-man' attire. This time, he's in a suit. His blazer is a nice shade of maroon, while everything else, his tie, the shirt beneath, his slacks and shoes, are all black.

"Wow." I say, folding my hands behind my back. "So the boss of Onychinus does own a suit."

"Disappointed that you haven't seen it sooner?" He asks with a smirk. Just when I think he's going to continue to banter, he reaches behind me and takes my hand, lifting it above my head.

My cheeks heat as I spin, uncertainty suddenly infesting my head. "So? Does it look the way you were hoping it would?"

The last time I went to such a fancy event, the dress I wore was loaned to me. When I found out the dress code for this one was similar, I called Sylus in a panic, not knowing that would be appropriate. He asked for my measurements, I sent them over, and he took care of the rest.

I'm all for woman empowerment and getting to wear what we choose, but I'm still so far out of my league with these types of things. Besides, I can't deny that Sylus has incredible taste. The dress is beautiful.

I am dreading the bill, though.

Luke and Kieran waltz in before Sylus can give his answer. Their heads turn towards me, and their conversation falls short.

"Whoaaaaa." Luke says, whistling beneath his mask. "Our Little V has become Queen V."

Kieran drops to one knee and bows his head. "We are at your service, my lady."

"Guys," I giggle, fanning my heated cheeks. "Can you not? I'd rather not walk out there looking like a tomato."

Sylus grunts at the twins. "Go make sure the car is out front."

They salute and vanish as quickly as they appeared. I take a deep breath and shake my shoulders. "Alright, it's show time."

Sylus offers me his arm, and I slip mine through his. He leans down and speaks against my ear, catching me off guard. "You look beautiful."

I squeak and jump away from him. "Great, now I need a minute to let my cheeks cool."

It ends up taking three, but we make it downstairs and into the limousine on time. Surprising, as Sylus is more the type to show up whenever he wants.

The ride is short and sweet, the museum not terribly far from the hotel. Though Luke and Kieran won't be joining us inside, they're on standby in case something goes wrong. In our line of work, that's always a possibility.

Even though Sylus takes the lead, even though I feel as safe as I can be at his side, anxiety still finds a way to creep in. I can't help but picture that grey tower with the ballroom dome, can still feel the prick of that cold night on my skin. Can still picture the face of the man I accompanied, his subordinates who trapped me in a secret lower level not listed on the elevator, who tried-

My sharp inhale doesn't go unnoticed. "What is it?"

I shake my head to be rid of the stinging sensation in my eyes. "Nothing. I just remembered the last time I did something like this, is all."

My heels click against the stone steps as we ascend to the grand doors of the museum.

"If you want to turn back, I'll have Luke and Kieran escort you."

"No." I shake my head stubbornly. "Thank you, but no. I want to do this. Besides," I turn my head and smile up at him. "I know you'll look after me."

Sylus takes a second to regard me, then nods. "Don't leave my side."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

The museum is beautifully built. It's old architecture, made of stone and brick and marble, but the love and care put into the maintenance makes it feel brand new. The staff at the door verify our invitations and offer glasses of champagne, which neither Sylus or I accept. They tell us that we're welcome to browse the exhibits until it's time for the unveiling.

We've made it halfway through the painting hall when Natalia makes an appearance. She's dressed in a gorgeous emerald gown, one that makes her blonde locks shine like gold. Every step she takes commands the room, her confidence inspiring me just as it did when we first met.

"Mr. Sylus. Miss Evie." She greets formally with a nod of her head. "Thank you for coming."

My lips pull into a smile, earlier nerves forgotten. "Miss. Natalia, you look gorgeous. Thank you for the invitations. This place is beautiful; I can tell your parents put a lot of love and care into it."

She didn't smile at all during the meeting, but she does now. "Thank you. They'd be happy to hear that." Her gaze turns to Sylus. "I must thank you again for the manpower during transport. I don't think a relic has ever been moved so securely."

"So long as you hold up your end of the bargain, we can do business again in the future."

A muscle in her jaw ticks at the mention of their deal, but she quickly smooths it over. "Yes, well, I have other guests to greet this evening. Enjoy your night, and I will see you both at the reveal."

Natalia spins on her heel and disappears around the corner.

I come to a decision then. "I like her."

Sylus scoffs and playfully shakes his head. "Sweetie, if that's all it takes for you to like somebody-"

Something over my head catches his attention enough to halt him mid-sentence. His eyes go cold, expression hard, dangerous. Murderous, even.

I blink. "Sylus?"

"Don't leave my side."

He just repeated himself. Sylus hates repeating himself, and I don't think he's ever spoken to me with such a tone. That wasn't a reminder, it was a command.

Time starts to drag, the world around me becoming white noise. Unable to stop myself, I turn my head and follow his gaze until-

My inhale comes in so sharp, it stings. At the entrance of the painting hall, the same one we had come in through, stands a man who appears to be somewhere in his early thirties. His dark hair is styled but still looks like a mess, the tattoos on his hands difficult to identify with the scars marking them. His dark brown eyes burn with vengeance, his piercing glare shifting back and forth between Sylus...

...and me.

Vincent is here.

Masterlist

Chapter Nine ->

Tag List:

@xxfaithlynxx @angelafinstone @mysticcollectionvoid

[troutfur]

But what if Firestar did end up dying to the fox trap for good?

[bl4ckdevl]

@waruins | sparring thread. cont'd.

the soldiers here had the wisdom from the deepest wounds of their scars. they'd risen from the nation's mold of perfect human ruination, with nothing left but ashes of fallen comrades and the ever-nagging question: were they still socially desirable—or obsolete machines discarded by an amnesiac, violence-enabling society?

but that burden wasn't what weighed heavy on their minds now. the real weight was each other. their aggression may have been condemnable, but the battle between them retained a dark delicacy that neither party would deny themselves.

the sequence of their spar—each blow, block, twist—had none of the clean spectacles of fiction. this wasn't choreography. it was communion. the black dog in our hound's head hadn't yet surrendered his pride to the bloodletting that threatened to drown out the art beneath their violence.

what hurt billy the most wasn't the pain—it was the months of stagnation. no challenge. no worthy opponent to wett his rust. until now.

gloria's fluency in violence tuned him to her rhythm. beneath him, they weren't just fighting. they were speaking. violence as dialect. lethality as fluency. and in that shared tongue, they became actualized flesh—human in the way people like them were never permitted to be.

so maybe fluency isn't quite the word. there was an affinity pulsing—like recognizing a carnal tune he couldn't hum but could play note for note with bare knuckles, enough to make the ground beneath her quake.

her palm—delicate, but fatal under the right motivations—pressed to his throat. her legs twisted around his calf like offended serpents. pain surged up his hip, nerve-deep and electric, slicing through arousal like a hot wire. it didn't dull him. it sharpened him as though he was a whetted blade. the pain is real—god, it's real. the pang of pressure refined him to that old, hideous edge no one wanted to admit still gleamed.

his weight atop her is a form of pressure. not dominance. a mutual burden. not unlike the kind that coils within trauma's skin—a secret sickness in different bodies, same source.

the devil dog watches her then. it could've been mistaken for hunger. maybe even shock. but it was neither. there was only recognition. that quiet, sacred thing: one human looking at another and selling all of them. scars. sins. shadows. and something good buried underneath somewhere.

when gloria asks him that question—what's got you hard, billy? is it the pain or the echo of control?—he surprisingly doesn't blink. but nor does he smirk, despite how funny it sounded aloud.

what he gives her is quieter than all that.

    ❝ pain, gloria, ❞ he murmurs, the word nearly lost in the shallow hush between their mouths. ❝ was the first teacher i ever had. you never forget your first. ❞ his voice lowers, calm as his heart gradually slows, like someone taking their sweet pauses to detail a long-remembered recipe.

    ❝ it taught me how to stay. how to shut up. taught me that everything civilians call love is just leverage you haven't seen yet. ❞ he pauses, momentarily to catch his breath. ❝ and this? i love this. ❞

his andric fingers curl in the soft cotton of her shirt—not in ownership, but in anchoring. our black was not claiming her. only to ground himself. the layers, war-affected flesh slickens with heat, and undeniable tension, it was all-consuming.

he doesn't flinch under her pressure, in fact, he happily leans into it—surrenders his neck the way a domestic or wild beast might offer their vulnerable underbelly. not in submission. invitation.

he'd like her to press harder. he wants her to. he wants his blood to rise. he wants the pressure to threaten veins and choke breath from his lungs, the way those hags in carolina folktales did—crushing chest, dragging victims down under and wearing their skin like a new coat.

if she turns into a ruin, he wants it to mean something.

    ❝ but control? ❞ his head tilts, not dislodging her hold on his throat, only shifting within its grasp. allowing her to feel the delicate cords in his neck flex.

    ❝ don't we all need that? seems like a basic human function to me. a right we were created to have. ❞

she twists tighter. he lets her. he doesn't wince, because there's no break in him. the truth blooms across his porcelain doll-esque features like an oil spill—humanely ugly, honest, inevitable. 

his grin turns knife-edged.

then his hand ghosts up along her arm, trails over her bicep—like he's reading old hieroglyphics from his trips in egypt. wondering what rage her flesh has deified. what bruises and teachings shaped her into this perfect collision of softness and hurt.

    ❝ you're a smart woman, gloria. i think you know that already, ❞ no pride in it. no apparent smugness, just forthrightness and honest.

and in the sweltering heat between their bodies—both burned by wars that had no flags and became echos of old politicians wills—he doesn't need to ask her to stay. he knows she will. because she's not scared of him.

why would she be? from what he's gathered, she's scared of what parts of herself only billy seems to speak fluently. and while may not know love, he's fluent in the unspeakable.

[imminent-danger-came]

You know I think my lmk ships are: skeletalspider (SQ x LBD), ivorylotus (Ne Zha x Yellowtusk), shadowpeach (you already know), and the samadhi dumpster fire (dragonfruit)

[netscapenavigator-official]

Sometimes I have these vivid moments where my brain likes to come up with conspiracy theories that I can't disprove and are kinda reality rattling, but I just kinda gotta be like "meh," and move on.

The latest is what if religious people are right about life on Earth being a test for the afterlife... but what if the test isn't existence, but religion, itself.

As in, what if the "God" that created humanity specifically made religion on Earth as toxic and dehumanizing as they could possible think, and only those who can stare their maker in the face and say "I disagree with your rules" and not follow religion, are the ones who make it into the "good" afterlife. Like, what if our "God" specifically wanted to make themselves sound like an extremely evil, snobbish being, where the one and only rule in "religion" is to trust them blindly. That way, after death, they can filter humans between those who were strong-willed enough to maintain morality, even when told it's against their entire life's purpose; and those who blindly followed immorality because they were told it was what the creator wanted. In essence, religion is the pre-afterlife test that aims to sort humans into those who will show compassion, even if it damns them; and those who will internalize fear and become nothing but a yes-man to "God."

.

.

.

Anyway, enough of that. I'm making mozzarella sticks for lunch.

[purgemarchlockdown]

I dunno if this would of helped her but it would of done Something.

[termagax]

anyways. i feel like ive said this before but i think that wouldve been a bigger concern of his when he was younger and was trying to think abt how he was gonna like. live in the world. well and then the world exploded and he decided he could do whatever he wants forever and started larping as his fursona and i think hes chill about it now. like i think hes okay.

[thedragonagelesbian]

the raven circle IS a baldur's gate faction the info about making swords of ppl's souls is FROM minsc and boo's journal of villainy it would not be that hard to write an act 3 encounter.......................................

[gratisdiamanten]

contemplating whether i need to go on anon for this or into witness protection. but i reject and actively pray for the downfall of all daniel girl delusions about him getting the rbr seat.... idc that you have a conspiracy board of explanation and that checo is "flopping" in a car that doesn't suit him as well as his teammate....

🤨 the f1blr hypocrisy of 'my fave is flopping in the car but his teammate is doing great so obviously its NOT HIS FAULT' vs 'my fave deserves this seat bc the current racer is flopping but his teammate is doing great and this is obviously HIS FAULT'

now if yuki gets the red bull seat? im listening. i can dream about promotion.

Now see I cook up plots and schemes to get Daniel back in that seat so Max can finish him off for good measure

[tonycries]

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.