#he may have broken her heart but the loss is his alone

[honeysickspirit]

i love her in a way that transcends all else. i love her so much that i’ll do the impossible to be with her. i love her enough to break and rewrite fate itself, all so i may stay by her side. you cannot say the same. you wasted her time and broke her heart, but now i can be here with her without you getting in my way. i can give her my undivided love and attention without your disturbance. how lovely for me, and what a loss for you.

[silvercloverr5]

heyyy, can i request good old enemies to lovers with so much angst but ends with fluff with sirius??? maybe they used to be friends before and Sirius just suddenly turned cold? and the reader was giving the same energy and all they do is bicker and one time the reader just burst out about how siri is being a prick and then it ends with confession?? it's very long 😭😭im sorry

Hey guys!!! Sorry I’m going through requests VERRRRY slowly atm but please feel free to leave requests in my inbox for me to get round to <3 love u all so much

Also, I included reader seeing Regulus as a little brother figure and looking after him, because I can’t not :-( sorry if it puts u off the fic!!

(CW: LOTS of angst, child abuse from walburga, sad Sirius, sad Regulus, Sirius being cold and cruel to cope with loss, basically the reader being the black brother’s best friend, ends with fluff<3)

“I used to love you.” ~S.O.B

{you were from a pure blood family, best friends with Sirius Black. You comforted him through his mother’s cruelty, and fell in love along the way. Until Sirius ran away, leaving you to protect his little brother from harm out of the love you still held. Now, when you see him in school, you give him a reciprocated glare. But why does he hate you?}

“Sirius, come here!” Came the harsh, threatening voice of Walburga Black, she sounded angry, really angry, and you watched Sirius tense, looking up from the book you were reading together. His eyes were wide, face whiter than usual, holding much more terror than a little boy should ever have to endure. You put a hand on his shoulder, warming him in this cold house. “Hey, it’s fine. Whatever happens, you can come back up to me after. I’ll take care of you.” You told him. You may have been only children at the time, but the way Sirius nodded and his silver eyes softened and glittered with tears, you knew you had a certain way with him.

Alone in Sirius’s room, you played with your hands, shoulders stiff as you listened to the mother scream ruthlessly at her son, trying not to picture the broken, guilty, vacant expression you knew would be adorning Sirius’s tear-stained face. You couldn’t hear Sirius’s responses to Walburga’s yelling, you knew he froze up when he was scared, so he’d be mumbling in response. “I DONT CARE IF YOUR FRIEND IS UPSTAIRS. YOU ARE A DISGRACE ALREADY!” She yelled. You had to cover your ears when gut-wrenching cries and wails started to echo up the stairs. Walburga was using the crucio curse on her son. Again.

~~~

Soon, the screams ceased and Sirius rushed up the stairs and into his room where you still sat. He slammed the door desperately, and crumbled to the floor beneath it, shaking like a leaf and loud sobs starting to make his small back heave. You leaped off of his bed and knelt beside him. Hesitantly, you reached out to touch his back, but he flinched away from you with a sharp, choked gasp. That was when the first crack painfully sliced its way through your heart. To see your best friend weak and bawling on the floor of his bedroom, scared of even you, was an agonising feeling. Eventually, Sirius realised you wouldn’t hurt him, and wiggled into your lap, crying quieter now. His head found its way into your neck as he cried, and you could feel his wet tears snaking down your skin.

“Sirius, I’m here.” You whispered into his disheveled black curls. At that, you felt his body weaken in your lap. Before you knew it, he was asleep ontop of you, your arms wrapped around him. He stirred, turning slightly, slipping down your body so his head lay comfortably on your chest, and your face scrunched in both pity and guilt. A puddle of thick crimson blood stuck his hair to his pale forehead. You hated yourself for not being able to stop his mother from hurting him. Watching his body rise and fall with each peaceful breath he took as he slept, you spat on your sleeve and wiped the blood away, earning a harsh twitch and broken whimper from the raven-haired boy. He deserved nothing but peace.

With Sirius draped over your body like a snow-white blanket, hair splayed over you like he’d claimed you as his own bed, the door creaked open. You tensed, holding Sirius tighter, ready to give anything to protect him if Walburga showed in the door, but instead, a small frame appeared. Regulus. “Oh, Regulus.. did the shouting scare you?” You ask softly. The boy nods. He’s the spitting image of his big brother. “Is Siri okay?” He murmurs, rubbing his eye. You nod. “C’mere.”

Regulus tucks himself into the crook of your arm, head laying on the flesh of your shoulder. With big eyes mirroring Sirius’s, he peers up at his brother. “Heard mama shouting at him. He breaked something, I think.” Regulus explains shyly. “Mh. Your mother isn’t kind to Sirius. She isn’t kind to you either.” You say, more to yourself than him. He still nods in agreement. You stroke Sirius’s hair as he shifts in his sleep. “I’ll get you both out one day. And… and me and Sirius can get married. And you can be the best man-“ you describe your fantasy to the small boy, who has a wonderful smile creasing his little face, eagerly listening to each and every detail of the life he hoped to one day live.

~~~

You were now both in hogwarts. Over the years, Sirius had become rebellious, learning to fight back to his mother, but this always resulted in the crucio curse, which resulted in him collapsing in your arms. You were, admittedly, all he had. You and his little brother, who he’d noticed following the path of his parents. He hated the fact that regulus was so obedient to their inane beliefs. He hated it. It was only you who could calm his rushing mind.

It took only one night for everything to change. You weren’t over at his house, so he was alone, and he had a particularly bad row with his mother. After using the crucio curse on the boy until his thin limbs were tangled and trembling on the ground, his jet black curls tangled and his bitten-raw lip quaking like a child’s. While he was in this state, his mother mocked him. All he wanted was to be in the safety of your arms right now. He knew that although you came from a pure-blood family, you were not evil. You were good. You were like him, but braver. Kinder.

That night, Sirius knew he couldn’t live in this house anymore. He packed a bag full of clothes, essentials, and was unable to resist taking Regulus’s old teddy bear, an old shirt of yours and a necklace that was matching with you. He tied up his dark hair and slipped on his leather jacket. He’d grown out his hair because his parents didn’t approve of it: he wore the jacket simply because his parents didn’t like the 70s-rocker look. He’d do anything to escape those sleek black suits, hair styled tidily, silver and jewels everywhere he looked. In this house, he was nothing but a decoration, so he vowed to make his appearance undesirable to his parents. But, you always thought it suited him. While he crept silently down the corridor, boots hardly making a sound on the fancy patterned carpet, he heard a creak. His heart stopped. Fuck, he thought. Its mum. I’m never getting out. Oh, god, I’m never getting out.

“Siri?”

A small voice asked. It was Regulus. Sirius spun around where he stood to see an unruly mop of black curls matching his, framing a pale, soft face that didn’t at all suit the bitter yet elegant brutality of his family. “Reg.” was all Sirius could squeak.

“…you’re leaving aren’t you?”

“…yeah.”

“Oh.”

Regulus looked at his feet. He looked back up at his older brother.

“I’ll be by myself, Sirius.”

Sirius’s jaw clenched. He fought back the tears.

“I’m sorry, Reggie. I love you.”

Regulus’s daintily perfect face crumpled. “You can’t go, Siri, I don’t-.” He swallowed. “I don’t want to be alone. Not with them.” Sirius opened his arms. His little brother crashed into them like he’d disappear if he wasn’t fast. “I’m sorry, reg. I love you, but I can’t stay.” He murmured. Regulus was now sobbing into his shoulder. Sirius felt like the worst person on earth. He needed to get to James’s house before his mother woke up. “Regulus, I have to go.” He told him, petting the back of his head. Regulus suddenly pushed his brother back. Sirius recognised this; the anger that reg was displaying. When he was the same age, when he felt vulnerable, he disguised it with anger. He still did. “F-fine. Go. I don’t need you.” Regulus spat, his glistening silver eyes betraying him. “You’re… you’re really… really mean, Sirius, you know that?” He tried to hiss, but it turned out as a cracked whimper. Sirius felt his heart shatter in his chest. Stinging tears dripped down his cheeks.

“I love you, Regulus.”

“…”

Regulus walked to his room.

~~~

Sixth year.

Sirius had decided that he couldn’t hurt you anymore. With him leaving home, being a blood traitor, he knew he’d only cause you trouble. He couldn’t bare the thought of it. Little did he know he’d be doing just that.

When break had ended, you’d gone to greet your best friend. “Sirius! I’m sorry I didn’t see you much over the holiday, god, how’s regulus? Are you-“ your shoulders clashed together as he continued walking. much to your confusion, he walked straight past you with the icy glare of his father. “…Sirius?” You tried again, catching up with him and grabbing onto his shoulder. The physical contact from the person he loved most hurt like the touch of searing iron, and he flinched away. “Fuck off! Can’t you just.. just fucking go away?” He growled. His silver eyes were a stormy grey, he hated himself more as he watched your face fall. “What..?” You breathed, looking so heartbroken. He hated himself for making you hurt as well as his little brother.

He hated himself, he hated himself, he hated himself.

Trying to soothe the ache in his chest, he rushed past you. He left you standing in the ruins of what he had torn down.

From then on, everything changed.

~~~

Sirius Black was not your best friend anymore. He was cold and unresponsive, shooting you murderous glares whenever you saw him. He’d make offensive comments at you when he came close enough to communicate with you, and it confused you immensely. What happened to the boy who came to you for comfort? Who cried in your arms and begged you to keep him safe and warm? What happened to your boy? Your best friend? Only god knows.

You didn’t even know Sirius had run away until your parents informed you that you couldn’t go around to the Black’s house anymore. This had sparked a heated argument. “What? He ran away? He didn’t tell me!” You’d exclaimed. “Yes. To the Potter’s house, we hear. Walburga has burned his picture off of the tapestry, and-“

“Wait, what? I can’t go round anymore? What about Regulus?”

“No. Walburga doesn’t allow guests to see her children anymore.”

“What? No, no, no, I need to see Reg. come on, Dad, he needs me!”

Long story short, your argument was to no avail. You couldn’t see Regulus. You couldn’t protect him from his parent’s wrath like you had his brother. Alike Sirius, you spent some of your nights lying awake thinking about Regulus, alone and cold in that hellish house, and most of your night thinking about Sirius, and what you did to make him despise you so.

Soon enough, You and Regulus had fixed your relationship, and many nights you’d find yourself singing the youngest Black brother to sleep. You could comfort him from within the walls of hogwarts where his mother couldn’t hurt him. Even when Sirius hated you, you cared for his brother like he was your own.

~~~

At first, you’d tried to coax Sirius into talking to you. You’d stood with tight lips while he insulted you, and listened to his hateful, meaningless rants. You noticed how his friends, James, Peter and Remus, stopped egging him on when it came to you, and started nudging him or trying to distract him, as if he’d say something he’d regret. But you’d come to think that Sirius black was remorseless.

You weren’t sure why he’d switched up on you, become so mean. You did, however, decide that you would be just as harsh right back to him. You knew you could never bring yourself to hate him. He owned your heart, whether you liked it or not. You learned to hate that you couldn’t help that.

It had soon been a year. One torturous year of finding your spells book torn to shreds, looking at dark eyes that you once knew so well only to see an unrecognisable boy. The smirk that once brought warmth to your chest now opened a bottomless pit in your stomach. With each day, you ached more and more. So did he. Sirius loathed himself indescribably. He knew that if he told you, even after the torture he’d subjected you to, you’d kiss his forehead like old times and tell him it was okay. Tell him that he was good, and he’d never be like his parents, and that you were there for him. You were an amazing person, and he was horrible. But he couldn’t drop his facade now.

You were just trying to study when a voice you’d come to find agitating and grating permeated the silence of the library. “Ooh, little blood supremacist… what you studying? Dare I say dark magic?” Rolling your eyes, you slammed the textbook shut. “shut up, Black. You came from quite the same roots.” “Maybe: but I was brave enough to get out. I was good enough to get out.” He retorted with a grimace. Looking up to meet his cold gaze, you noted that his creased white shirt was unbuttoned, his crimson and gold tie hanging loose over his shoulders, only curls pinned up carelessly with his wand. A dangerous hairstyle, for sure.

“Would you give it a break? I was the reason you didn’t go crazy in that house.”

“I did go crazy in that house.”

“Yeah, I can fucking tell.” You said with a scoff. He pulled away your notebook. “So, have you got the dark mark yet? Godric knows you’ll be ecstatic-“ “why are you such a dick, Sirius?!” You yell hoarsely, jumping to your feet. His eyebrows furrowed at your outburst. Slightly, his eyes softened at the sight of your glassy ones, brimming with unshed tears. He said nothing, lips parted. “You’re.. you’re a fucking prick. I never did anything to you.” Turning away to hide your face which had turned pink as it did when you were about to cry, You started upstairs to your dormitory.

~~~

knock, knock, knock.

Someone rapped on your dorm’s door.

Knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock. Knock.

Someone was incredibly impatient. You used the palm of your hand to dry your eyes slightly and sniffled. “What? Who is it?” You croaked. A voice answered, “please can I come in?” You frowned. This time, it was a voice you knew. You recognised it, broken and weak, pained, yet honey-smooth all the same. That was your Sirius. Your heart hurt again knowing you’d never have him back, not fully. You fully believed this was another of his cruel pranks.

“Come in.” You mumbled.

As Sirius muttered your name, you felt you were transported back to your childhood. When you’d play and read together. Laugh and smile. “What do you want, Black.” When you said that, his lip twitched, face scrunching slightly. He looked as if the words physically pained him. With that expression painted on his face, he looked just like he did as a child. Except now, his hair was longer, his face more angular, more beautiful. “Don’t call me that. Please.” He begged, voice cracking with emotion. You looked up at him with a waning expression of anger. “Why not? You have been awful to me, I will call you what I choose.” You say. He whimpers pitifully.

He shuts the door behind him. You hear him mumble something. “What did you say, Black?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Your body is tense. Everything is silent. You have one question.

“Why were you so angry with me when you left?”

He hesitated, before answering as raw and truthful as he can. “Because I was stupid. I knew nothing but that I loved you. And I hated myself, and I couldn’t hurt you any further.”

“What? Hurt me? Hurt me how?”

“I burdened you all those years, with my weeping and pathetic pleas for comfort after my mother hurt me. When I could only feel safe shrouded in your warmth. I needed you. And I need you now. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.”

Nothing felt real. You reached a hand out, and Sirius lowered himself so that his cheek rested in your palm. It was cold.

“You’re cold.” You stated blankly.

“I’m fine.” He protested.

You pulled him into your bed. Seconds later, you stretched out your arms. With a sob of relief, Sirius fell into your embrace. He cried silently into your neck for a while, reminiscent of the time you helped him as a kid, except this time you were both much bigger. You pet his hair affectionately, a tear sliding from your eye. “I missed you so much. I’m so, so in love with you. You don’t even need to love me back. I just… need this.” He said, voice muffled as he presses his face into your shoulder.

“…I never stopped loving you.” You admit, pulling him in closer.

~~~

You both spoke through the night, smiling and laughing and talking, telling secrets and jokes and all of the inbetween. He was so beautiful in the dim light of the lamp in your dorm. He was so beautiful anywhere. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, sounding lovesick and dazed. You laughed softly. “You don’t even know how beautiful you are. But that doesn’t matter to me.” You kiss his forehead, before pulling back and looking deep into his eyes. “You are good.” He practically melts into you.

Sirius falls asleep safe in the crook of your arm, and you fall asleep with one arm under him and the other around his waist, with the peace of mind that you can protect him always, now. Your boy. Your Siri.

You looked down at him, running your fingers through the roots of his hair. He moans lowly in satisfaction, practically purring as he presses himself against you. “Now we can get married: with Reggie as the best man, just like we dreamed. With a pretty house and a four-poster bed.” You said, a sweet, hopeful smile gracing your lips.

“Mmmh.” Sirius groaned sleepily. “As long as we can christen that bed.” He added, eyes still closed, with that stupid Sirius Black smirk on his face. You scoff, hugging him closer, before falling asleep yourself.

~~~

(Please don’t copy or share any of my writing anywhere else!!)

[callsign-fox]

You Can Have Me - Rafe

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader (Jj's twin sister)

** MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU ARE NOT UP TO DATE**

18+ ONLY!!

Written with the help of my darling BFF @fanficgirl429

This is my first dip into OBX and I am not disappointed in myself :P Leave some love if you like it xo

---------------------------------------

I jolted awake, the torment of my latest nightmare abruptly dissipating. The early morning sunlight caressed my skin as it filtered through the delicate white curtains. The movement beside me anchored me to the reality that I was home in North Carolina, secure, if only for the moment. 

“You good?” Kie asked beside me in a sleepy tone.

My body resisted as I cast aside the comforter and compelled myself to rise from the bed.

“I don’t think ‘good’ is the right word,” I muttered, grabbing my sports bra from the floor and moving toward the bathroom. 

She mumbled something I couldn’t quite make out before rolling away from me. 

Upon our return from Morocco, the stark reality of having lost both our home and business hit us with overwhelming force. Rafe Cameron, who seemed the most improbable of heroes, extended the hospitality of his beachfront home to us pogues. John B would say this was a gesture to Sarah and the fact Rafe would soon be an uncle. Conversely, Sarah claims it was because of me. I chose to ignore her. 

It may be difficult to comprehend, but experiencing homelessness was not the most distressing event of the past month. Upon our return home, we found ourselves one member short of our original group. My sole family member, my twin brother, is now lost to me permanently. My heart has been irreparably broken, as the only true family I ever knew was taken away by our estranged and unstable father.

I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. 

It has been more than three weeks since that happened. While I have not fully come to terms with the loss of a significant part of myself, I have become emotionally numb to it. I could not endure another expression of sympathy or inquiry about my well-being from anyone in the community. With that being said, for the past week, I have rarely stepped outside the small room that Kie and I shared.

I brushed my teeth and then swiftly threw my hair up in a loose ponytail. Once I was done, I grabbed some running shorts and paired it with a loose tee, desperate to release endorphins. 

“I’m going for a run, I’ll be back in an hour.” 

The door was already shut but I smiled at the muffled ‘be careful’ from Kie. 

My sneakers slid on effortlessly, and before anyone had the chance to engage me in conversation, I exited. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, I halted suddenly, intrigued by the sound of music coming from one of the open garages. It was a quarter past seven, and we were not particularly a lively bunch this early in the day.

As I approached the open door, Rafe came into sight. He was standing there, humming to the music, dressed in a snug white t-shirt and boxers. A wave of butterflies stirred in my stomach at the mere sight of him, evoking a mix of confusion and excitement within me. He glanced up from the bike, removing the black grease from his fingers onto his shirt.

“Y/N, hey.” 

I smiled at him as I leaned against the frame to the garage. “Hey Rafe.” 

A week prior to our departure for Morocco, I had spent hours wrapped up in this man. His skin pressed against mine, his lips caressing every inch of my body. The mere recollection of those moments left me feeling lightheaded. However, since our return, our communication had dwindled to almost nothing. I stood at the door to his bedroom one night, desperate to feel him inside of me again, but terrified of being denied. I went to bed tense and alone. 

My body yearned for him once more as he gazed at me with his deep ocean blue eyes. It was evident that he was attempting to decipher my thoughts, his eyes narrowing while I remained silent.

“Are you ok?” he asked, leaning on his bike. 

I pulled myself from the trance and stepped further into the garage. “Please don’t ask me that, I’m sick of people asking me that.” 

He cocked his head to the side before dropping a tool in his toolbox. “Fine. Am I allowed to ask if you are having a good morning?” 

“I am so far, but maybe check back later as things can change at any given moment. I’m going to go for a run.” 

Rafe nodded and reached down for something I couldn’t see. “Cool, cool. I would have thought maybe you were going to the shooting range or something.” 

I decided it was best to play dumb. “Why would I be going to a shooting range?” 

His hand resurfaced holding a black gun. 

Shit. 

I looked at the gun then back at him. I was careless, and couldn’t remember where I’d left. It must have been in the back of his truck. “I can explain.” 

“I actually have a few questions. One, where the fuck did you get this? And two, are you insane?” 

This wasn’t at all how I was hoping this morning would go. “Look, I know how to use it. I’ve been practicing.” 

“Oh, you know how to use it? That makes me feel much better,” he laughed, removing the clip and putting it back into the bag he pulled it out of. “What are you doing, Y/N? Are you planning on going and killing Groff yourself?” 

“Why not?” 

Rafe’s eyes widened as he straddled the bike. “For fuck sake, Y/N.” 

I moved closer, standing right beside him and the bike. “Why not, Rafe? I don’t want anyone else hurt, and we know he isn’t above killing his own children let alone my friends. I can do this, I have to do this!”

“And what if he kills you first?” 

As if I didn’t think about that. “That’s definitely a possibility.” 

“A possibility…” He had that crazed look we all knew so well. “Do you even know where he is?” He asked, clearly irritated as he rubbed his eyes. 

His question surprised me. “No, I don’t.” 

Rafe nodded, then reached for a wrench in his toolbox. “Alright…” 

I leaned forward trying to catch his gaze, “Alright what?” 

“Once you know where he is, you let me know.”  

This time I laughed. “Why would I do that, you’d try and stop me.”

“I won’t. When you know where he is, I’ll go with you and we’ll kill the son of a bitch.” 

I stood there silent for a moment, confused at the sharp turn the conversation just took. He continued on his bike as if no words had just been exchanged. Like neither of us were just perfectly ok with committing murder three seconds ago. 

“Rafe…I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“You didn’t ask, I volunteered.” 

He threw the wrench back into the box and reached out to me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me into him. “I’m supposed to be the crazy one, but right now you’re scaring me a little.” 

My hand instinctively reached for his abdomen, applying a gentle pressure against his muscles.

“You scare me too.” 

An unexpected rush of life filled my heart, which throbbed so vigorously that I worried it might burst from my chest. He moved in closer, our lips nearly aligned, brushing softly against one another without fully making contact.

His calloused hands traversed the bare skin of my waist, then stealthily slipped under the waistband, pulling me tightly against his thigh. He smiled at me, and I could feel the heat rising, a flush spreading between my legs.

“Y/N…” his lips brushed my cheek, before moving to my ear sending a shiver down my spine to where my body wanted him most. ”I need you, and if Groff takes you away before I even get to have you…let’s just say things won’t end well.” 

I moved my hand down to his boxers, slipping beneath the elastic. My fingers curled around his firm erection, gliding back and forth. “Rafe, you can have me whenever you want me.” 

Rafe moaned, biting softly on the nape of my neck. 

He gently pulled me closer, lifting my leg so I could straddle the bike to sit on his lap. Our lips finally reunited, but this time there was no hesitation, only an intense desire. My arm encircled his neck as I leaned back on the handlebars, arching my back into him while feeling the ignition pressing against my shoulder blades. It didn't matter though, as I was completely enthralled with this man. 

Rafe withdrew slightly, his fingers gliding up my leg until they encountered my shorts. With a delicate motion, he eased them down, removing them as if he had performed this action countless times before. As he leaned in once more, his lips met my thigh, placing rough kisses upon the exposed skin. I arched my back as his mouth connected with my pulsating center, his thumb teasing the thin, damp fabric.

“Oh, god.” I let out a soft sound as he moved the loose fabric aside, teasing my sensitive area.

His tongue swirled over my core, and my body threatened to tip over the edge. I could feel him smiling as he devoured me, the sounds escaping me only egging him on further. He momentarily withdrew, prompting me to reach out in protest.

“I like you begging, but I’m just getting these out of the way so I can ruin you.” 

My underwear fell away effortlessly, and before I could utter another word, he returned to his position between my legs, guiding me nearer to my peak. The sensation coursing through me was the most intense I had ever experienced. His tongue glided over my center, while two fingers rhythmically entered and exited, propelling me toward the precipice of pleasure.

“Fuck, I’m going to come.” 

The apparent struggle in my voice served only to urge him to quicken his movements, and I was unable to withstand it any further. A delightful tingling spread throughout my body as I reached my peak, my heart racing and my breath becoming erratic.

Rafe reclined slightly before rising to his feet, a smirk playing on his lips, fully aware of the effect his actions had on me. His blue eyes roamed over my figure as he extended his hand toward me. I placed my hand in his, and he swiftly drew me up and guided me toward the wall. His hands descended to my waist, and he pivoted me so that my back was firmly against the wall.

“Should we stop?” Rafe asked, his fingers playing with the hem of my t-shirt. 

His boxers were halfway down his thigh when I looked up at him, towering over me with a devilish grin. “You’re so fucking funny.” 

He suddenly placed his lips against my neck, leaving a series of kisses before ultimately returning to my mouth. In a swift motion, he elevated my leg and pressed his aroused tip against my core.

“You’re nice and wet, all for me.” He whispered, biting my already inflamed bottom lip.

His length entered me effortlessly, the sensation of his movements eliciting soft moans. One of his hands firmly grasped my thigh, elevating my leg, while the other hand held my backside, his fingernails creating delicate crescent impressions as they traced my skin.

Rafe's movements began with a deliberate yet pressing urgency, intensifying with each thrust. I felt myself tighten around him as the well-known pleasure surged within me. His lips met mine, our tongues intertwining amidst our shared moans.

“Damn, you feel so good.” 

My hand clung to his shirt, pulling him tighter to me.

A wave of bliss enveloped me, my head tilting back as I softly uttered his name repeatedly. Rafe was just behind me, a deep groan escaping his lips as he nestled his face into the curve of my neck.

The two of us stood there for a moment, catching our breath. Rafe reached down and pulled his boxers back up before gently placing a kiss on the corner of my mouth. 

“For that, with you,” he smiled and took a breath. “…I’d kill a hundred Groffs.” 

The expression in my face revealed my own satisfaction. He gently placed his hands on my cheeks and kissed me one final time, this time with significantly more passion.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally withdrew, his teeth grazing his lower lip as he returned to the project he had been engaged in earlier. "Are you still planning to go for that run?" he inquired, casting a glance in my direction.

I shook my head, “No, I think I’m good.”  

[egglain]

Give You What You Want (‘Cause Your Love is All I Need)

Rating: E (18+) - mdni Pairing: Choso x Yuki Content: first date & first time, switch! choso & switch! yuki, pegging, cumming in pants, vaginal & anal sex (fingering, penetration), unprotected, creampie, marking (biting), oral sex (choso receiving), soft sex turned rough, edging, breast worship/nipple play, loss of virginity (choso), dirty talk (begging, praise, "baby" and "good boy" for choso), breeding, porn with plot but canon divergent, minor gojo & yuji appearances Word Count: 6.6k

Summary: Choso had never been on a date. Especially not with a woman as beautiful as Yuki Tsukumo. Choso had never done a lot of things, which– in the wake of his upcoming meeting with the suspected love of his life– was a daunting thought.

A first love. A first date. A first time. But definitely not the last.

A/N: Thank you to the wonderful @melancholiaincarnate for beta reading this, and for putting up with my yapping about this the past week.

Hope you all enjoy, and thank you for 100 followers!

Yuki Tsukumo liked rough things.

She had always been like that, really.

“Dainty” was never her style. She grew up in the sticks– hands buried in the earth, cuts, scrapes, and bruises forging her thick second skin. She was a fighter; punched out more baby teeth than she could count, sent mean boys crying home to their mothers without regret.

As she grew, the scrapes and bruises faded, but the fire inside never waned. Yuki Tsukumo was a special-grade sorcerer. Her knuckles never forgot the feeling of bone giving way, nor did her blood forget the rush of adrenaline. In fact, the rough side of her grew stronger, even as her exterior mellowed. 

She had a soft spot for people who were the same.

Bleeding hearts seemed to summon her; she always ended up right where she needed to be. She took broken boys under her wing– rough-n-tumble kids who had lost their way in the world. They were like little brothers to her.

It was comforting. When darkness clouded her vision, it wasn’t because she was evil; no. She wasn’t alone in that. Geto Suguru, Todo Aoi– countless others– lived a rough life, wished for better, turned to violence. Turned to jujutsu. Turned to justice.

Yuki’s sense of justice may have been idiosyncratic. Her ideals, her musings, may have led some down the wrong path. But it didn’t weigh on her. She lived a self-governed life, followed her own feet in pursuit of something nameless– something she had yet to uncover.

But for now, lying on the floor of Tengen’s endless void, living was enough.

That… and Choso.

Yuki Tsukumo was not aware she saved Choso’s life in Shibuya.

Nor that she continued to do so.

Choso wasn’t much of a talker; as their days in Tengen’s tomb rolled together, Yuki didn’t uncover much about the man. 

When he did speak, it was usually about his brothers– recounting their childhoods (something which Yuki couldn’t quite wrap her head around), affirming the hatred he felt towards his father, or wondering how Yuji was doing. He worried himself sick over the last one.

He was something soft– something fledgling, discovering the cruel ways of the world. He was a protector, a feeler, sensitive and kind. In short, he was everything Yuki was not.

Where she was sharp blows, he was soft touches. They complimented each other, cancelled out each other’s worries. It kept them both sane in the white, endless chamber.

Choso Kamo was not aware he had saved Yuki’s life either.

Their time in the tomb came and passed; Gojo Satoru managed to escape the prison realm, take down the false cult leader, and avenge his old friend. Yuji kept Sukuna contained. It brought a serenity to Yuki that she hadn’t anticipated– all these years, she bore an invisible guilt, one so deeply-ingrained that she didn’t realize the hold it had on her.

Yuki got to meet Choso– properly, this time. Without the stress, the anger, the uncertainty.

They went out to a bar. It was Choso’s first time visiting one. He couldn’t take more than a sip of his drink– the sting of the alcohol had his eyes tearing up in a way that warmed the pit of Yuki’s stomach deliciously.

She met his little brother. They went out for crêpes. Yuki and Choso split some choco-strawberry monstrosity; Choso picked out all the strawberries for her. They were her favourite. Yuki learned that Yuji was a good friend of Todo’s– a fact that had Yuki’s heart bursting at the seams.

Choso was Yuji’s big brother, and her little brother was Yuji’s best friend.

So when he asked to take her on a date (to court her, as he put it), how could she say no?

***

Choso had never been on a date.

Especially not with a woman as beautiful as Yuki Tsukumo.

Choso had never done a lot of things, which– in the wake of his upcoming meeting with the suspected love of his life– was a daunting thought.

So he did what he always did when he had a problem.

Consulted Yuji Itadori.

Sitting on the floor of the boy’s dorm, playing with the stitching on the hem of his shirt, Choso couldn’t bring himself to meet his little brother’s eyes. As the elder, it was his job to teach Yuji about the ways of the world– not the other way around. Admitting defeat, asking for help, was difficult. 

Except when it was her.

“You said you had something you needed to ask me?” Yuji layed back on his bed, mashing buttons on a multicoloured controller. “What’s the problem?”

“I… asked someone on a date.”

A sad electronic melody signalled the death of Yuji’s character on the red screen.

“You asked someone on a… date?”

“Yes.”

“Like– romantically?”

His little brother was looking at him quizzically– his eyebrows were so far raised into his hairline that they disappeared, swallowed up by his pink curls.

“I hope that was clear to her... I think I like like her.”

Yuji dropped his controller on the bed, shuffling closer to punch his big brother’s shoulder. “Oh– wow, Cho. Shit, man. That’s amazing! Congratulations!”

Choso nodded, looking down at his hands. Yuki had painted his nails recently– purple, to match hers– and he couldn’t help the fuzzy feeling spreading in his chest.

“I want it to be perfect.”

“Aw… it will be. Don’t even sweat it.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never gone on one before. I don’t know where to even start.”

Yuji let out a low whistle, flopping onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “The planning is the hardest part, I think.”

“How do you do it?”

Yuji looked down at him, flushing an embarrassed pink. “Well uh… I’ve never actually… gone on one, I think. Well– Fushiguro and I do date-like stuff all the time, but we’ve never… spoken about it. So I don’t know if it counts.”

Choso deflated.

His best advisor was not going to save him this time.

Yuji didn’t miss the way Choso slumped into himself.

“Maybe ask Gojo? He’s super experienced with women. Megumi told me himself!”

***

A tall white-haired sorcerer whistled, gazing up at the beamed wooden ceiling of the Jujutsu Tech hallway. Golden late afternoon light streamed into the halls; Choso had spent the better part of the day looking for the man before him, but he never seemed to exist in the places he was supposed to be.

Looking at the bag in his hand– presumably filled with kikufuku, if the shop name was anything to go by– Gojo hadn’t even been on the premises at all.

The sorcerer tapped his glossy lips pensively. “Women? Mmmmm… never been on a date with one!” 

Purple nails dug into sweaty palms.

“Oh. Yuji said… nevermind. Sorry to interrupt you.” Choso turned to leave, embarrassment painted vermillion across his cheeks.

A black blindfold obscured his eyes, but Choso could feel the weight of Gojo Satoru’s gaze as it fell onto him.

“Choso Kamo– hold on. Yuji thinks I’m good with women?” A pearly-white grin stretched out pale, ethereal features. “Maybe I can help. Here. Come into my office.”

Which is how he ended up here.

Choso shuffled his chair imperceptibly closer. It was luxuriously upholstered– as everything else was, in the dimly-lit restaurant.

“So um… do you have a favourite Digimon?”

Yuki paused from where she cut into a very red steak. Brown eyes met his from under golden bangs, something akin to amusement glinting in her eyes.

“Digimon? Hmmm… Ordinemon.” Yuki skewered a sliver of meat, bringing it up to her prettily painted lips. Suddenly, Choso’s throat felt very dry. “I didn’t know you were a fan, Cho.”

“Oh–” Choso fiddled with the sleeve of his dress shirt, pushing it up just a little past his watch to feign looking at the time. Chicken scratch, miniscule, scrawled out key words Gojo had taught him. “I like… um… Shoutmon. X7. The superior one.”

Yuki tilted her head, hitting at him once again with that loaded gaze. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes.” Choso met her eyes, downing his water in thirsty gulps. His shirt collar was tight, and was it hot in here?

The restaurant was beautiful– all dark wood and black lacquer, low golden light and modern fixtures. Another recommendation by the strongest. The waiter had plucked a cloth napkin from in front of him, folded it, and placed it on Choso’s lap upon his arrival. A golden, fizzy drink tasting uniquely sharp filled a tall, skinny glass to the brim. Multiple utensils and several plates of varying sizes spanned the table in front of him. 

Choso felt distinctly out of place, but Yuki looked right at home. It filled his chest with an ache he couldn’t describe.

He wanted more of it.

“You’re full of surprises, Choso Kamo.”

She was a vision, smiling at him so soft over the rim of her near-empty glass. She finished it, glossy lips leaving a sinful print on the side. He slid his champagne closer to her, and she took it graciously, swapping it for her empty flute.

He wanted to press his lips to her mark.

Choso’s face flushed; he hoped Yuki didn’t notice under the low lights.

A young, too-happy waiter roused Choso from his thoughts, taking their dessert order. Choso had barely touched his pappardelle bolognese. 

Yuki whispered something to the man, neatly manicured nails covering her mouth. Her eyes never left Choso’s. Her gaze was hypnotic, drinking in Choso’s face in a way that had him squirming.

He whispered an apology, eager to excuse himself to the bathroom as the waiter left. Purple-tipped fingers wrapped around his wrist as he stood.

“Choso.”

“Yes, Miss. Tsukumo?”

“‘Yuki’ is fine, Cho.”

“Sorry.” The tips of his ears burnt. “Yes, Miss. Yuki?”

It felt good in his mouth, on his tongue, and the way Yuki smiled in response had his head spinning.

“Thank you for this… it’s real nice.”

“You deserve nice things.”

Her eyes softened, crinkling at the corners. “Aren’t you the sweetest? I just wanna eat you up.”

The coo she used to speak to him had his stomach doing aerials.

Fuck.

He needed to find a bathroom quick.

“Poor boy– so embarrassed. You can go, Cho. But hurry back soon for dessert, okay?”

He nodded as fingers loosened their grip, wrapping instead around the stem of her– Choso’s– glass.

“Good boy.”

All the heat drained from his face, flooding the pit of his stomach. His legs had never moved quicker.

In the dark zen of the bathroom, Choso splashed cold water on his face. He paced a bit, texted Yuji that it was going well, made sure he ate dinner too, and drenched his face again. After patting himself dry with a soft paper towel and giving himself a pep-talk, he made his way back to the table on shaky legs.

Before Yuki sat an elaborate mess of dark chocolate, vanilla ice cream, and strawberries. A thin silver candle crowned the middle of a stout chocolate cake at the plate’s centre, letting off small golden sparks. Choso took his seat, and Yuki handed him a tiny metal spoon with a smile.

“Let’s make a toast, Cho.” Yuki carved into the cake with her spoon, dark chocolate oozing out the centre and pooling around the white of the ice cream. “To many more dates.”

The thought filled him with butterflies– the exact ones he needed to tamp down in the bathroom.

“To many more dates,” he whispered, almost a prayer.

Choso dug into the cake himself, skirting around the strawberries as he scooped up molten chocolate with his spoon. Bringing it up to his lips, warmth pooled on Choso’s tongue as the rich cake melted away. The cocoa cut through the sweetness with a subtle bitter tang, and he couldn’t help but hum.

Yuki moaned around her spoon, shutting her eyes in bliss. Scooping up a sliver of strawberry, she popped it into her mouth in quick succession.

“Fuck, that’s good. You like it, Choso?”

“Yeah– what is it?”

“Chocolate lava cake.” She smiled as she dug in for her second scoop, dragging a little piece of cake through the ice cream lapping at the plate’s edge.

Popping it into her mouth, vanilla cream painted the edges of her pretty pink lips a foamy white.

Brown eyes locked, and Yuki’s slender tongue peeked out to clean the corner of her mouth. Choso felt something low in his navel stir.

“You like dark chocolate better than milk chocolate, right?”

Choso had never given it much thought, but now that she’d pointed it out, it was undeniably true. It wasn’t as cloyingly sweet; he could fill his belly and not feel sick. He planned to do just that. With another heaping spoonful, Choso’s cheeks puffed as he nodded.

“Fun fact about dark chocolate,” Yuki whispered, jaw resting atop a delicate fist.

Under the table, something brushed against Choso’s leg. He stiffened as a nylon-clad foot slipped under his pant leg, dragging up his shin slowly.

“It’s a natural aphrodisiac.”

***

“Yuki… please…”

Punched out of his lungs, his pleas were so beautifully broken.

“Please what, baby? Can you use your words for me?”

“Do something–”

Yuki had dragged him from the restaurant as soon as their receipt finished printing. Choso looked so pretty in the passenger seat of her sports car– cheeks flushed and eyes wide as her hand squeezed the inside of his thigh dangerously close to his tented crotch. He could only speak in stuttering breaths, fidgeting in his seat as he snapped his gaze between his boner and Yuki’s fingers.

“So needy. You can be good and wait for me, can’t you?”

A half-hearted whimper escaped his lips, and Yuki rewarded him with a little slap on his inner thigh. Choso’s spine shot rigid, thighs trembling deliciously under the soft skin of her palm as she soothed the spot in gentle circles.

As much as Yuki Tsukumo preferred life overseas, she had a lush one in Tokyo too. Much like Gojo Satoru, her status as a special grade afforded her certain privileges unthinkable to the general public. Her apartment– a swanky glass-walled penthouse in Roppongi– was straight out of a magazine. Her sleek foreign car was another luxury she flaunted, especially as she sped through the bright Shibuya streets.

She might have set a world record with the speed at which she made it home.

Tossing her keys onto a stout side table and pulling Choso inside, Yuki couldn’t help but feel a little smug. If Choso’s wide-eyed stare were anything to go by, he had never been in a girl’s apartment before, let alone one as lush as this. Yuki basked in the feeling. He really was too cute.

“Wow…”

“You like? I’m glad.” Yuki slipped off her heels, tossing them aside as she padded further into the house.

With a click of a button, her fireplace roared to life, bathing the vast darkness of her living room in low, warm light.

Choso, bless his heart, stayed put at the entrance.

“Cho?”

“Yes, Miss. Yuki?”

“What are you doing over there, baby?”

The way he fidgeted every time Yuki purred out his name had her navel heating and ovaries clenching. He looked utterly edible in his little suit and dress shirt combo– he even left his hair down this time.

“Come closer so I can look at you properly.”

He undid his dress shoes and approached the couch where Yuki sprawled. With another click, soft music hummed from her surround-sound system, something to fill the silence and warm her up.

Not that she thought she needed it.

Seeing Choso up close, flush dusted over the stripe on his nose, he was even prettier. Full cheeks, soft lips, big doe eyes– he was a vision. And here he stood between her thighs, all wrapped up just for her.

“Take your jacket off, Cho. It’s just us.”

He obeyed almost immediately. Muscle ripped just beneath the thin black fabric of his button-up, chest straining against the buttons as he slipped his arms out their sleeves.

A purple manicured hand dragged down the front panel of his shirt, palming the contour of a soft pec. The ghost of a touch, and his eyes were already glassy in the dim light.

Delicious indeed.

“Choso, baby?” Yuki’s voice was honeyed, dripping in saccharine seduction.

He was nodding before he even knew what she wanted, as eager to please as a dog.

“You know why I brought you here?”

“No, ma’am.”

The way he addressed her– so formal– drew a giggle from Yuki.

“I wanna sleep with you.”

“Oh… okay.”

“You know what that means, baby?”

Choso shifted his weight from foot to foot, pants obviously tightening around the crotch. A crotch that was mere inches from Yuki’s face as he stood before her.

The man nodded, and her hand slipped lower on his torso, dragging down the flat of his tummy. 

“Mr. Gojo taught me a lot.”

Yuki stilled.

“Gojo… Satoru?”

Choso nodded.

Yuki barked a laugh.

“Oh, you poor thing. Gojo Satoru– oh. Baby, no. Never take advice from him.”

Choso flushed, eyebrows furrowing under dark bangs. Doe eyes, once starry and lustful, now filled with worry.

“I’m sorry. I’ve never gone on a date before, and Yuji said–” it was a mile a minute. 

Yuki’s heart warmed.

“Is that why you were asking about Digimon?”

“Was that bad?”

“No– no. Of course not. But you haven’t seen it, have you?”

The shake of Choso’s hung head had Yuki cooing, pulling him into her lap by the hip.

“Aw, that’s alright, Cho. You didn’t have to go all that way to try to impress me. I like hearing about what you like.”

Choso’s eyes found the spot where they met– his thighs atop Yuki’s– and she could feel the staccato of his heartbeat against her skin.

“I’ll talk you through it. We’ll go slow, okay?”

Choso nodded, and gentle fingertips lifted his gaze back to her face. 

“We’ll start with some rules. Rule one– you need to use your words. Let’s try that again. Can I talk you through sleeping with me, Choso Kamo?”

“Yes.” It was quick, almost cutting Yuki off. “I’d like that… please, Miss Yuki.”

“Rule two: as cute as it is, no ‘Miss Yuki’ while we’re doing this. Okay? Makes a woman feel old,” she laughed.

“Okay… Yuki.”

“Good boy.”

Choso preened, chest puffing up imperceptibly. Yuki ran one hand from his hip up his torso, circling his pec with gentle fingertips slowly.

“Rule three– and the most important one– if you don’t like what I’m doing, you’re hurting, or you just want to stop, you tell me. Immediately. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.”

Yuki pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, then the tip of his nose. Choso fidgeted in her lap, hands awkwardly folded atop his clothed thighs.

Running a thumb dangerously close to the peak of his chest, the man stiffened, breathing heavily through his nose.

“You gotta relax, baby. Here. Give me your hands.”

Purple-nailed hands– bigger and veinier than hers, but painted just the same– met Yuki’s in between them. Yuki slowly brought his palms up, placing them onto her covered breasts.

Choso was transfixed, running his fingers reverently over the soft silk of her top. The firmness was unexpected. A tentative squeeze left his mind spinning; if not for the warm weight in his palms, then for the soft pretty noise that escaped Yuki’s throat.

His pants were uncomfortably tight. And warm. And wet.

Sharp purple nails raked over Choso’s areolas through his shirt. He sucked in a stuttered breath, back arching as his hands clawed into Yuki’s clothed tits.

“Sensitive, baby?” Yuki cooed, thumbing over pert nipples.

Choso bit into his lower lip to muffle the embarrassing noises that threatened to spill out. His hips rocked on their own, rutting into the valley between Yuki’s thighs.

Yuki’s hands left his chest, and Choso chased her warmth.

He opened his mouth to whine, to plead, but her fingers were undoing the front buttons on her top. Shrugging off the silk, more skin than Choso had ever seen was laid bare.

Row upon row of abdominal muscles, paired with a soft, curvaceous frame– soft, plump breasts near spilling out a purple lace bra… he had gone to heaven.

Trembling fingertips traced the frilled trim, slipping down into the dip between Yuki’s breasts. Yuki giggled, musical and light, grabbing at his wrists.

“A gentleman helps a lady with her bra, Choso.”

His mind reeled.

Yuki slid his hands towards her back, letting him feel the clasp.

“Push the two straps closer together, and they should unhook.”

Trembling hands struggled, but Yuki’s whispered encouragement spurred him to keep trying.

“That’s it… doing so good for me, Cho. It’ll feel so much better like this, I promise.”

His cock twitched with interest, leaking into his dress slacks obscenely. As purple lace fell to the floor, Choso’s heart stopped beating.

Yuki Tsukumo was a beautiful woman.

Her face was elegant– soft in all the right places, defined in the others. She always looked put-together, even mid-fight or in the void of Tengen’s tomb. She was plump; slim at the waist and round in the ass, the type of woman that graced the screen of the films Yuji made him watch.

He had known this since he first saw her.

But these… fuck.

Fat, creamy breasts obscured his vision. Large blushing areolas accentuated firm nipples, perked under the attention. Yuki brought his hands back to her tits, and this time they were soft.

He was so hard it hurt.

Yuki’s breasts spilled out from between his fingers as he squeezed. Her nipples strained against his rough palms, and Yuki leaned back into the black leather of her couch.

“Just like that, Cho– fuck. Suck my tits, baby.”

A current ran through his lower half, tension building in his groin as he brought his lips to one of her breasts. His mouth watered as a nipple slipped between his lips, warm and firm. The tip of his tongue flicked out to feel, and the groan Yuki let out in response had him bucking his hips faster. The friction did little for his aching cock, but with each suck, jolts of arousal had his dick impossibly harder.

A clawed hand fisted into his hair, sharp nails dragging against the back of his skull to pull him closer.

“Fuck. Sucking so fucking good, baby– good boy.”

Whether it was the broken, gasped way she said it, the feel of his clothed cock against her legs, or the sweet tit in his mouth, Choso was gone.

Eyes rolling back into his skull, hands fisting into the fat of her tits as he cried out, Choso’s toes curled. Tears threatened to gather, eyes stinging as his pants grew uncomfortably warmer and wetter.

His rhythm grew sloppy against her plush thighs, breathing loudly through his nose as he hollowed his cheeks around the nipple.

The fingers in his hair rubbed soothing circles on his scalp, dark brown eyes falling on him with blown pupils.

“You cumming, baby?”

He felt hot all over, tense in his abdomen as his cock filled with sparks. He whimpered– a broken little noise– as it all became too much. His dick felt hot; he was hyper-aware of the scratch of his rough boxer-briefs, of her hand in his hair.

Yuki, of course, knew exactly what he needed. With experienced fingers, she unbuttoned his top, tossing it off to the side. She moved Choso to the spot on the couch beside her, freeing her legs to slip off her skirt. Bending over to put on a show, she made quick work of discarding her purple lace panties.

Choso whined, something so sweet and needy, as she fell to her knees before him.

“Shhh… Let me clean you up properly, Cho.”

“Please,” he gasped, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed as he looked down at her. 

Elegant hands made quick work of his belt, then of the button and zipper of his dress slacks. Choso sucked in a breath as Yuki’s hand slid down the front of his pants to palm at his rock hard cock.

Tacky warmth painted her palm, and Yuki was cooing.

“Came so much, baby– just for me?”

Choso’s little nod had her thighs squeezing and her cunt dripping.

With gentle fingers, she pulled out his softening cock. Choso’s seed painted purple nails in a pearly sheen, dripping between her fingers in warm rivulets.

Choso watched with rapt attention as Yuki brought her slicked hand between her legs, slender digits strung together by sticky ropes of his seed. A soft, gasped noise escaped from parted glossy lips as fingertips prodded between her legs. 

Choso’s heart clenched. He wanted to be the one between her thighs making her feel like that.

Long fingers disappeared into her core, pushing Choso’s semen inside. With her dry hand, Yuki tucked hair behind one ear, eyes locking with his. A lithe pink tongue flicked out to wet her bottom lip, and heat pooled in Choso’s core again. His cock stirred, jumping at Yuki’s mouth, and she pressed a soothing kiss to his aching tip.

“Aww– ready to go again?”

Her pink lips stretched into a catlike grin, frenulum pressed up to her lower lip. A bead of precum welled, and Yuki’s lips were on it before Choso could blink. The soft warmth of her lips, the gentle pressure, had him pressing his thighs together.

Yuki peppered slow, gentle kisses down his length, tongue flicking at his balls as she reached his base. Working her way back up, she was sloppier, open-mouthed. It took everything in Choso to not thrash.

Pretty pink lips wrapped around the aching head of his dick, flat of a hot tongue pressing and swirling against sensitive flesh. Yuki hollowed her cheeks, and the pressure shot electricity up his spine. Choso arched back against the couch as Yuki swallowed him down, easing him into her throat. Obscene noises– slurping, moaning, and panting– filled the room. Yuki worked herself between her legs, long fingers using Choso’s seed to lubricate their glide. 

“Yuki– gonna–” Choso’s voice was pitchy, breaking as he threw his head back. 

Yuki gently rolled his balls between her fingertips, humming as she bobbed her head along his length. The white of his cooling seed gathered at the corners of her lips as she worked, and fuck. Choso’s hips stuttered forward, lodging his cock deeper down her throat as his legs tensed up.

Pressure mounted deliciously in his core, heating his length unbearably. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding his breath.

He was going to do it.

He was going to cum in her mouth.

With desperate hands, he clutched at her hair, fucking into her throat with shallow, needy thrusts.

“Yuki!”

Pop.

The blonde pulled off his length with a cheeky smile, a string of saliva connecting those sinfully glossy lips and the pulsating head of his cock.

“Not yet, Cho.”

A needy whine bubbled out of his throat, hips rutting forward against her sheened lips.

Yuki placed a firm hand on his hip, pinning him down with a click of her tongue.

“Ah ah— be good, baby. Can you be good?”

“Yuki…“

“If you do, I’ll make you feel even better. I promise.”

Reluctantly, Choso stilled. 

“Okay.”

“Good. My room. Now.”

***

Choso wasn’t even sure what time it was anymore.

Fuck, he barely remembered his name.

Yuki had brought him so close so many times. His mouth tasted distinctly like blood, lips raw from biting into them as she toyed with his body. She had wrung moan after moan out of him— brought him to the ledge, had him teetering with his thighs trembling and his core flexed. 

But she never let him cum.

Now, heaving and trembling on the bed, Yuki parted his shaking thighs. 

“Gotta get you ready. It’s gonna feel a little weird at first, okay?”

Choso’s head lolled to the side, taking slow, shallow breaths as his painful cock leaked onto his navel.

Slender fingers pried apart his asscheeks, Yuki’s face mere inches away from his most private parts.

If he were any less horny, perhaps he would have had it in him to feel embarrassed.

Now, he just wanted to— needed to— cum.

So when Yuki licked a stripe from his hole to his shaft, Choso couldn’t help but press back into her mouth. When she spat on his entrance and slurped it back off, he moaned for more. When she got out a furiously pink bottle and poured cold liquid down his crack, he laid there and took it.

He was going to be good.

He needed to be good.

For her.

Soft fingers circled his entrance, putting gentle pressure on his rim. The sensation was new— vulnerable— but it had his back arching off the bed in anticipation.

The tip of a finger breached him, shallowly fucking that cool gel inside. He hissed, and Yuki stilled, pressing a kiss to a freckle on his left hip.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“Hurts,” he whimpered, hand snaking down from his pillow to paw at his dick.

“Choso.”

The sharp tone had his hand stilling and his eyes rolling back. Inside, that finger hooked up against a spot that had his legs clamping shut.

“No touching, baby. Let me.”

Soft hands pushed his legs back open by the knees. His own hand retracted to the pillow, fisting in the silk case as Yuki’s finger slipped out, only to push back in and prod that spot again.

His mouth fell open, drool gathering on the inside of his cheek as his eyes squeezed shut. For the nth time that night, he was getting close. He tried not to think about it, tried not to feel it; he wouldn’t be finishing anyways.

“Yu… ki…”

“Getting close again, baby?”

Choso didn’t even bother answering. She knew. She always knew. 

His cock jumped against his tummy, leaking out wasteful beads of precum— lubing up his insides for something that would never come.

Yuki’s finger slid in deeper, fucking him to the knuckle before she pressed a second fingertip to his rim. Dark brown eyes gazed up from between parted thighs, a sinful tongue lapping at her puffy lower lip.

“Have to get you real soft for the strap.”

A second finger breached his hole, the sting a slow buzz that spread up to his back. Two fingertips bullied the tender spot inside him, and his eyes rolled back into his skull. Choso pressed his hips back into the digits, and fuck.

Taking them to the hilt had his body alight.

Before he could process, he was cumming— ropes and ropes of thick white semen soiling his soft pecs and flat tummy, dripping into the divot of his belly button. 

Yuki took advantage of this pliant state to stretch him open, fucking him through his orgasm on two, then three, fingers.

When she was satisfied, she was flipping him— Choso, in his post-orgasm haze, could only moan as his sensitive, too-wet cock made contact with the cool sheets.

Yuki disappeared off behind him, rustling in drawers and boxes he couldn’t muster the energy to look back upon.

As the bed creaked under her returning weight, Yuki couldn’t help but admire the man beneath her.

From behind, Choso was so beautiful. Fit and pale, he was a painting. 

She pulled him back by his sides, dragging his ass up to present properly for her. Yuki’s purple shellacked nails dug into the fat of his hips, softly accentuated by the arch of his back. 

A long, thick purple strap glistened prettily as she smeared cherry lubricant on it, taking in the way Choso’s slicked hole was clenching around nothing.

“Open wide for me, baby…”

With a guiding hand, Yuki’s strap breached his rosy hole. Watching it stretch around her girth was intoxicating; the soft groan of the bed matched the pretty noise that escaped Choso, and just like that, Yuki Tsukumo was addicted.

She chose a forgiving pace at first— shallow fucking with just the tip, hands kneading Choso’s love handles and the plush of his ass.

He was so flushed, so pliant, moaning under her. He drooled onto her white silk-clad pillow, doe eyes glassy and distant as he took her in deeper. 

He was a doll, still and obedient, opening up so nice on her cock. Yuki leaned over, pressing a kiss to his neck, then shoulder, chaste. The angle had her slipping in a little deeper, and soon, Choso was taking her to the hilt.

“How’s that feel, baby? Sucking me in so well.”

Choso moaned wantonly, thighs parted and shaking a little. His lower lip, spit-slicked and reddened, quivered. 

“Use your words.”

Yuki pulled back, splaying a hand on the small of his back as she drove in more forcefully, determined to fuck an answer out of him. With each thrust, her hips mashed into the soft flesh of his ass; the jiggle was hypnotizing.

Choso cried out as she put pressure on his prostate once again, glassy eyes welling with need. The dark spot on Yuki’s pillow grew, a heady mix of saliva, tears, and desire.

“Need to cum… need you– need…” he was babbling. It was wet, hiccuped, gritted out from a clearly sore throat.

“Cum on me, baby. Cum on my cock.” 

Choso’s pliant hole tightened, clenching rhythmically on the base of her strap. Short-nailed hands fisted the pillow next to his face, and Choso bit down on his knuckles to muffle his whimpers.

Yuki reached a hand around his smooth chest, pinching and pulling at a rosy nipple.

He was gone.

With a cry, he was spurting; gushing out his seed onto the sheets, humping the air uselessly as he met his release.

Yuki stilled deep inside, letting him bear down on her to ride out his pleasure, eyes rolling back under dark brows.

“Good boy, Cho. Let it all out for me.”

He whined, a small broken noise, as he spurted out the last dregs of his seed. His abused cock jumped in the air as a sinful string of semen connected his purplish tip to the bed.

As the last of his strength waned, Choso collapsed into the mattress, landing on his fresh puddle of cum.

“Let’s go clean you up.” Yuki leaned over him, gently pulling out before placing a kiss on his shoulder blade.

“Not… done.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not done.”

When Choso looked back at her, Yuki Tsukumo realized her mistake.

This wasn’t a man she had brought home.

This was a curse.

One who did not leave bad sorcerers unpunished.

***

Yuki Tsukumo liked rough things.

That included her men.

Not only did she like them rough— she liked it rough as well.

But this?

Choso had her bent like a pretzel. 

Her ankles dangled by his ears, purple-nailed toes curled impossibly tight. Her thighs were red and angry under strong hands, pushing them wide against her chest. Her tits— bitten and spit-slicked— bounced with each unrelenting thrust into her core, and fuck. 

She could see the outline of his cock as he drove into her.

Choso was an animal.

Dark bangs obscured his face, sweat-sheened and dripping. Dark eyes pinned Yuki down, honed in on where he was disappearing into her, or on the tantalizing sway of her breasts. His abdomen clenched and unclenched as he held her down with his big frame, folding her right in half to fuck in as deep as he needed.

He wanted to feel her womb.

Despite the rough handling— the sharp smacks of his tight balls against her plush ass— the noises he made were beautifully soft. Little grunts and groans, soft hisses when a jolt of pleasure shot up his spine; it was symphonic. Yuki’s mind reeled as he pressed those sinful sounds against her neck and jaw.

Choso’s hands fell from her thighs to her ass, lifting Yuki’s lower half up onto his cock like a toy. Her cunt, hot and dripping, was melting his dick off. He couldn’t get enough.

“Cho… so…”

He grunted in response, nosing at the column of her throat.

“Gonna— don’t stop.”

He didn’t plan on it. Not until she was bloated. Not until she was round and heavy with his seed, until she was glowing with it.

He licked a stripe along her neck, following the trail of a stray bead of sweat. She was salty, tangy— perfect on his tongue. 

Pearly white canines latched onto Choso’s shoulder and bore down. Yuki groaned into his skin, pussy squeezing tight around his shaft as she reached her peak.

The flutter of her orgasm— the moans muffled into his flesh— had Choso seeing stars.

Fuck.

He had wanted to hold on, but the tingling in his shaft, the jolts of pleasure to his tip, were not going to let him hold on for much longer.

“Inside. Has to be inside. Yuki— please.” He growled into her neck as she cried into his collarbone, pulse fluttering against her tongue and lips.

She dropped her legs, but before Choso could protest, those pretty ankles were locking behind his back, heels digging into his ass to drag him deeper.

Yuki’s pliant pussy sucked him right in, tip meeting the gummy resistance of her cervix deep inside. Choso’s brain was working overtime, instincts raring to fuck right past her barrier and finish in her womb.

But he couldn’t hold it any longer.

As soon as those legs squeezed around him, and purple nails met his back, Choso was cumming so hard he couldn’t see.

His head clouded over as white painted the insides of Yuki’s pretty pink pussy, seed gushing out against her cervix. She was so full of cock and sperm, and each shallow thrust had Choso’s release dripping out around his shaft.

He couldn’t have that.

“Have to keep it in.“ He was babbling, mouth running before his mind could catch up.

“Choso?”

“Have to hold it in so it can— can take,“ he grunted, nails clawing into the softness of her ass.

“Baby—“

“Fuck. Gonna have to fill you up again. Not enough.”

Big hands flipped Yuki onto her side, and Choso was driving right back in.

Gone was the malleable man with the pretty tears and soft voice— this was Choso Kamo, the eldest of the death painting wombs.

From the looks of it, he was going to make sure she never forgot that.

***

Morning broke early, a stunning show of rose and violet, bathing Yuki’s sleeping form in soft golden light.

Choso had never felt so much.

Twirling tawny strands with gentle fingers, his heart was on the brink of bursting.

The woman before him slept soundly, covered in the purple marks of his love. He had cried, when he came-to, over how much he had marked her— until she did it right back to him.

They matched.

He cleaned her with his tongue– then again in the bath– with unmatched reverence as she drifted in and out of a sound sleep. Each time she stirred, it was to play with his hair or coo at him. Choso had never felt warmer.

She held him in her arms so gently as she fell asleep for good. He hadn’t felt so safe, so loved, in a long time.

He knew it then; he wanted Yuki to be there for all his firsts.

In this life, and the next.

Banners by @roseschoices!

[uraveragelonelysapphic]

welcome to my masterlist! here, you'll find everything i've ever written! enjoy!

Marvel

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Another Love- You meet Wanda at a grief group, as she’s struggling to heal after Vision’s death. Will you help her heal? Will your friendship grow into something more?

Under the Weather- You’re not feeling the greatest, but your girlfriend is there to nurse you back to health.

A Happy Ending- Wanda has to choose between you and Vision. But will she make the right choice?

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Keep You Warm- You are stuck in a freezing cold safe-house in Alaska, but luckily Nat is there to provide you with some warmth.

Not a Monster- After coming home from Wakanda, you meet a certain red head recovering from rejection and show her she’s capable of being loved.

Rocky Road- After Bruce disappears, abandoning Nat, you help put the pieces of her broken heart back together. When Bruce comes back from Ragnarok and professes his love for Nat, will she reject him? Or will she break your heart and run back into his arms?

No More Hiding- You’re a super soldier fresh out of the ice, so it’s your first pride month. And you get to spend it with your girlfriend.

Enough- After Wanda cheats on you, you’re heartbroken. Luckily Nat is there to pick up the pieces.

All I Ever Asked- Promises are hard to keep as an avenger.

Yelena Belova x Reader

Always- You have a nightmare about your days in the Red Room, but Yelena is there to comfort you.

Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff x reader

Proud- After a not so pleasant dinner with your homophobic mother, your girlfriends are there to give you the support you need.

When They Remembered- Wanda and Nat forget your birthday. But will they remember before it’s too late?

Part 2

Take Care of You- You’re sick, but luckily your girlfriends are there to help.

Deserve- Sometimes your doubts and insecurities become too much to handle. But your girlfriends will always be there to remind you how much you mean to them.

Invisible- You feel invisible, and your powers don’t help with that fact. Can two redheads and a team of superheroes change that feeling?

Wanda Maximoff x Yelena Belova x reader

Starting Anew- You lost your mom. Yelena and Wanda lost a mentor figure. But can something good come from all this loss?

Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova x Reader

Festivities- Yelena has never had a normal Christmas before. Time for her girlfriends to give her the best one yet!

Soteria- You struggle with being kept a secret by the team and the insecurities of not being good enough. After a hostage situation, your girlfriends reassure you of your worth.

Rio Vidal x Reader

Gentle Love- She may be Lady Death, but to you, she is your sweet love.

Home- She's fading away from you. Is the love you two share enough?

Part 2

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Lavender- Nature had always been your life. How fitting that it could now cause your death.

Miscellaneous

Colt Seavers x Reader

Danger- you have an issue with your boyfriend’s addiction to danger. he doesn’t see the problem. but will he see it when the shoe is on the other foot?

Colt Seavers x Jody Moreno x Reader

Sane- You’re going crazy on a miserable set with a miserable director. Thank goodness you have two wonderful things that keep you sane.

Shelby Goodkind x Toni Shalifoe x Reader

Calm in the Storm- You are not okay. But you are also not alone.

Calliope Burns x Reader

Only You- you and Calliope had something going on that had yet to be labeled. so when your friend Juliette starts to take a liking to the girl, should you be concerned?

[freaky-deaky-cookies]

Hi can I make a request I totally understand if you don’t want to write about this. I wasn’t sure if you take angst request like this so im sorry if I’ve sent this and you dont take requests like this. My request is for bg3 companions with a tav who is kind of a shell of a person. Like a demon could take their soul and they would fine with because they see no use for it. They just sort of go through life and are just waiting for their death. This is due to their tragic backstory that I won’t go into detail about but there is themes of repeated sa involved (you don’t have to mention this if you don’t feel comfortable) this request is based off of my oc which I hold very close to my heart and really just looking for some comfort right now. Like I said tho if this isn’t something you are comfortable with I completely understand.

BG3 Companions x Tav who is an empty shell (Comfort HCs)

Gale

Gale is a lot more perceptive than he appears to be

He notices the void of sadness behind Tav’s eyes

If Gale felt a genuine concern for Tav, he would ask to speak to them in private

When he approached them, he would not demand attention. Instead, he’d sit quietly beside them, offering only the weight of his presence. He wouldn’t try to fix them, but simply be there, sharing the silent knowledge that sometimes, just being was enough.

Wyll

Wyll would approach the situation quietly and calmly

He wants to ensure Tav knows that he – and the others – are a safe place for them to feel whatever they need to 

Offers a listening ear and only comments if asked

“I know what it feels like to think you’ve lost it all,” he’d begin, his gaze gentle. “But I want you to know something. You don’t have to carry this alone. You have people here who care. And that’s worth something, even when it feels like it isn’t.”

Astarion

He understands, he really and truly does

He himself has been there hell, he is still trying to dig his own way out of the void

Astarion was not a man accustomed to offering comfort. He was far more at ease with sharp words and cynical humor than with gentle reassurances. But with Tav, it was different. When he saw the emptiness in their eyes, he felt an instinct he couldn’t ignore—a tenderness that surprised him, even though he would never admit it aloud.

“You know," he’d start, his voice unusually soft, "you’re not as invisible as you think. I see you. I know what it feels like to be hollow—nothing left but the shell of a person. But you’re still here. Still standing. And that counts for something."

Lae’zel

Comfort is not her strong suit, like at all

While she may not take the most gentle approach, she respect Tav like no other and does not with to bring them any unwanted harm

She didn’t have the words to soothe the soul, but she had something she could give: strength. Her voice would be sharp, but it was clear she was trying to reach through to them, to remind them of the warrior they had the potential to be.

She wouldn’t coddle Tav, but her presence would be one of unwavering support.

Halsin

(I believe he would be the best to go to when faced with anything troubling)

His own heart breaks at the sight of someone he holds dear in so much pain

While Tav does not show it, he knows them well enough to see through that facade

“You are not beyond healing, Tav,” he’d say, his voice like the rustle of leaves in the wind. “It may not be quick, and it may not be easy, but you can grow from this. And I’ll be here to help you, however long it takes.”

Shadowheart

Shadowheart understood loss in a way that few could. Having sacrificed so much in the name of her faith, she had learned the deep ache of feeling lost and broken, even as she clung to hope. When she saw Tav, something in her recognized the emptiness—the hollow look in their eyes that mirrored the darkness she had once lived in.

Shadowheart would not push Tav to speak, but she would stay close.

Jaheira

Jaheira wouldn’t offer empty platitudes or tell them to ‘snap out of it.’ Instead, her words would be measured, rooted in the kind of wisdom that comes only with age and experience.

Jaheira wouldn’t rush toward Tav or overwhelm them with too many words. Instead, she’d give them space but remain near enough to show she was there, a steady presence in the quiet of the camp. Her approach would be measured, as she always was, and her tone would be gentle, but there would be no hiding the firmness of her resolve.

Mithara

When she saw Tav—someone who had already resigned themselves to the idea of being worthless, someone who had already given up on their own soul—it hit Minthara harder than she would admit. It was a reminder of the darkness she had lived in and the toll it took.

“I won’t pretend I have the answers. And I won’t ask you to simply believe in something when you don’t,” Minthara would say, her voice tinged with the knowledge of her own mistakes. “But I can tell you this: You don’t have to walk through it alone. If you want me to stay, I will. If you want silence, I can give you that too. I am here.”

She would stay by their side, offering her presence more than anything. It wasn’t a grand gesture, and it wasn’t about trying to force Tav to snap out of it or seek some grand redemption.

Karlach

"Hey," she’d say, sitting down beside Tav and offering her broad, calloused hand. "You’re not in this alone, alright? I’ve been to places where I didn’t think I’d make it through. But I did. And I don’t care how long it takes. You’re going to make it too. You don’t have to be alone in this. Not while I’m around."

Her words would be warm, her fire like a shield around them. She’d hold Tav’s hand and, even if they didn’t respond, she wouldn’t leave. Her presence was a quiet promise that they didn’t need to do this by themselves.

[satubby]

•Daddy's girl Second part•

[See your face smile once again]

Here is the part before this (Maybe it doesn't even make sense but god, it was 2020, we still barely knew about Kenjaku)

♡ >>> 《☆》 <<< ♡

He hears through the gloom, the crunch of bones and the sound of the city… or maybe it was his hallucination?

Satoru feels like he is in a deep ocean, drowning... Darkness surrounds him, like deep waters that drag him out of his consciousness or perhaps drown him, he no longer knows anything and he doesn't want to keep thinking about it.

Death, the feeling of loneliness that has always accompanied him... even after Suguru Geto left him alone, you had never left him, you were his daughter and yet he ignored you until it was too late to realize. The only thing that made him feel happy, the only human that saw him as Satoru and not the strong cursed sorcerer that was the imbalance in this world of witchcraft. YOU WERE his daughter... but you couldn't be with him anymore, because you were dead and before that your relationship with him was distant.

He remembers that by the time he realized how much you had distanced yourself from him, his feelings no longer mattered to you, just as he once never cared about yours... By then you were an abandoned and alone girl, surrounded by death and a father who left her to not face his fears and blinded by the pain of losing a friendship.

So although he will try his best to repair it, you no longer wanted to know anything about him even when you lived in the same house, you didn't even give him a look or a word. Maybe that's why he tried to be a better father than when he was young and stupid.

You could call it a good thing, it's kind of cute, right? But for someone broken like you, their love was false and although Satoru could see that you really wanted to accept it, in the end the pride of both of you and your injuries prevented you from getting closer. He regrets having left you alone, when you barely knew about the world, and he left you in the hands of others, fearing that when you saw him you would ask for Suguru. That you complained to him for killing his own friend who was like your uncle.

It was stupid if he's honest, looking at current things...he shouldn't have pushed you away believing you'd be better off if he didn't confront you and instead showered you with material things. Satoru did not know how to really love and now that he was lying on the ground, smiling and trusting his students... He realizes again that despite the pride of both of them, you continued to love him as your father, moments before your death how you smiled at him by hugging him and dragging yourself towards him in your last minutes alive.

It may sound selfish on his part, but he really wishes he had said 'I love you' to you even though you were mad at him for leaving you alone, for yelling at you in his teenage and young adult days, at you, his precious little sunshine.

For once he wants to be selfish, he really does, just this once... Damn!! His heart has begun to stop beating, his half is split in two, he laughs coughing up black blood... This fight may be a loss but he smiles knowing that maybe it's karma for leaving you to your fate, saving so many lives but at the expense of yours and his, which if you think about it, wasn't worth it that much.

At this thought, something new crossed his mind: Your beautiful face had not left his memories. Your expression before being hugged by him... His beautiful baby, moments before he died.

He remembers every detail of you and when you played in the bathtub with the rubber ducks, you and Suguru smiling at him, but now those are just memories, of when you both lived and how Shoko used to hit him for heating the powdered milk too much. He misses his friends, you more than anyone...

Satoru wonders, would it have been different if he hadn't left you alone and stayed by your side? He regrets having pushed you away, that you should have made your decisions in the face of his emotional abandonment and all because he was still mourning Geto, forgetting about your existence, longing and lonely like him.

"Tired" was his only answer to that simple question. That's the obvious. Look at his current state... Time, time, Sukuna looks at him, whispers words that he honestly no longer cared about and didn't listen to... his time in this place is over.

"I'm sorry my dear students... I'm sorry my mochi" And although he became a wandering being of revenge until he ran into Sukuna in Megumi's body after having killed the elders, he finally found the peace he was looking for so much. Only the king of curses can kill him now that he himself has become the thing he most swears to purge.

Then Satoru stops breathing, being 'exorcised' and so he lets himself sink into the sea of blissful death.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

The abyss became deeper, his soul fell slowly, Satoru stopped feeling little by little and the only thing he thought while he felt currents of darkness passing through him... was that lullaby.

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please, don't take my sunshine away

The letters came and went, in the distance as if the water swallowed them, the former special sorcerer felt numb floating in nothingness, only the light of something peeking in the mist of the dark sea

The other night, dear, as I laid sleepingI dreamed I held you in my arms

When I awoke, dear, I was mistakenSo I hung my head and cried

Then he understood that that voice is his, Satoru smiles inwardly, that lullaby which he sang to you when you were distressed, to apologize for leaving you alone on dark nights.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please, don't take my sunshine away

And before the last syllable of the song, he felt hands grab his face, giving him a hug, Satoru cried in silence when he saw you there, his little sun and his beloved mochi—His abandoned baby...

"Come back, dad... Do it right this time, I'll forgive you for everything!" Your voice sounded in his mind as your soul enveloped him and you walked away, letting him fall into the abyss. And like a shock of reality, Satoru opened his eyes standing in front of the bathroom, on the other side you could hear tears and sobs, it was you, well you seemed younger.

He was surprised to see himself alive and— Younger, he looked like he was in his 20's and that meant that you were 4 years old. He was happy, but then memories ran through his mind, hitting him with headaches.

Moments before you had come home from school with your babysitter, you had shown him a drawing you made for him but he ignored you, saying he was busy and you complained to him crying because he also forgot your dance recital... Which leads to why you are locked in the bathroom.

Trembling, he approaches the lock opening the door, you were curled up with swollen eyes full of tears, uncomfortable, the albino approached you, crouching down and being clumsy when hugging you.

"Shh! Ota-chan is sorry for yelling at you earlier my little one, I was stressed and I shouldn't have said those things to you, will you forgive your fool Ota-chan?" Your eyes looked at him and despite your tears, you hugged him, of course you were still that lonely and vulnerable girl who begged for his attention.

"...Ota-chan is a fool, you left (Y/N) alone at the recital, it hurt a lot" You complained looking at him with a pout, Satoru hugged you getting up with you and kissing your cheek, this time you would have ALL of his attention.

"Ota-chan I'm sorry my baby, I promise that even if I'm busy, I'll come see you and we can go for a walk... What do you want me to do to make it up to you hmm?"

His voice softens as he speaks to you, he no longer dares to be harsh with you, after everything that will happen in the future, at least if he can't stop it, he will protect you.

"Are you seriously going to make it up to (Y/N)? W-well if you don't mind, (Y/n) wants to go to the park" You didn't even turn to look at him which he understood, after years of ignoring you and emotionally abusing you in cold ways, he understood your fear.

"Then it will be Tokyo Disneyland! But for that we must bathe you, and we will clean that beautiful face, it seems that you have a duck's mouth for eyes hahaha" Satoru mocked, playing with you and pulling on your baby cheeks.

"Ota-chan, don't make fun of (Y/N)'s beautiful eyes! You were guilty!" You sulked, grabbing his hair and pulling it, then you laughed when you saw his pained faces, but he didn't even say anything to you, you're still a girl, he must be a better dad for you.

♡ >>> 《☆》 <<< ♡

For the next few days he pampered and loved you, when before he would forget to go to your school projects with Nanami or Shoko going in his place, now he never missed even if he had to threaten the higher ups letting them know that their old asses were still alive because that's how he wanted it, if he killed them like he did before, it would bring a lot of chaos and the truth is he doesn't want to do so much paperwork and much less stay away from you.

He also made sure to spend hours playing with you, showering you or having bubble battles and even inviting Megumi over (well technically Megumi lived with you even though she spent time studying) He also bought you a polaroid camera, it seemed like you loved taking photos.

Little by little Satoru saw his relationship with you blossom and you opened up little by little, coming to love him as he loves you. He thought they would be happy until— What was supposed to happen happened, Yuta and all the events that came after he came under his tutelage.

Due to the many problems that his old friend caused him, Satoru did not want to see the scene where he had to kill him again, he did not want to and he even stood watching it. Geto smiled at him, saying that he sure looked pathetic, that he understood the path he took but that Satoru shouldn't feel guilty.

That night he came home reliving his memories and emotions, even though it has already happened twice he can't get over it, but unlike the past (future?) you were there hugging him, you were a very smart girl and you didn't ask anything, just hugging him.

"It hurts a lot right, Ota-chan? (Y/N) won't ask questions, she's there for you" Satoru smiled and cried, only you could comfort him, he clung to you and whispered a lot of 'I love you my baby', not this time he hid his pain under happiness and you simply decided to play to take care of him, but that simple game distracted him from his pain.

"Tonight, you will be a patient and (Y/N) the doctor!!" You laughed as you spent the entire night playing with him until you fell asleep. When he took you to the bed, he smiled softly, kissing your forehead and letting you sleep, little did you both know that your pure love would turn crazy and passionate.

♡ >>> 《☆》 <<< ♡

It was your 8th birthday, Satoru had made sure to give you the best party and although you had video calls with your acquaintances and his to congratulate you, something very deep inside him that had been brewing since he went back in time and killed his friend again, somewhat selfish and paranoid. Maybe that's why you didn't have many friends, only Megumi and those from the jujutsu technical school, maybe he was VERY selfish by monopolizing your time.

But Satoru loved having you close and his many past/future regrets made him act like this. For 4 years he has been isolating you, you no longer go to school and you have private tutors, he fears that you want to leave like in the past, that others will monopolize your time when you could well do it with him. What if it was excessive? He was, but he didn't care about other people's opinions and even if his coworkers and friends told him that it was bad to isolate you, Satoru only made them less worried, you were fine like that.

Not for nothing has he killed and sacrificed anyone who interfered with his plans with you, the elderly were the first and those who bothered you followed them, he has already lost count of how many he killed, many times you almost died and that is why he preferred to lock you up, and you as a malleable girl (as hateful as it may sound, he just thinks you're very sweet and innocent) You think this is normal, it's just your precious daddy taking care of you.

"Ota-chan!! I've grown up, I'm 14 cm taller than the table!" You laughed raising your arms, Satoru smiled hugging you and lifting you into his arms. Yes, you definitely don't need to leave the house with anyone other than him, your precious golden cage where no one can touch you, much less take you away from him, will no longer allow you to die at the hands of others or be used against him.

"Tsk, Tsk! My little baby is growing, do you want to catch up with your Ota-chan? First drink milk so you can reach me! My dwarfy!" His lips went to your belly and tickled you, left behind was that girl who was abandoned and resentful of him, but who waited until the end, loving him in silence.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please, don't take my sunshine away

The other night, dear, as I laid sleepingI dreamed I held you in my arms

When I awoke, dear, I was mistakenSo I hung my head and cried

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please, don't take my sunshine away

TAG LIST: @louismae, @byakuyasgirlfriendandwife, @moonymoons-blog and 831 people from the previous post

And I thank all the people for waiting for this, damn it took me 4 years hahaha ha... I'm really sorry, but I was depressed so I had no inspiration or head for this, it's just a hobby thanks for your support [UNEDITED!]

[haru-natsuka]

WMMAP

The fate (Anastacius x Female Reader x Claude)

Chapter 8: Protectiveness

Immense amounts of protectiveness can often blind someone, making them prioritize the well-being of others over their own. Those who care deeply for others may forget to take care of themselves, viewing the loss of someone they love as the same as their own death. They would repeat this cycle of saving others, regardless of the sacrifice to their own lives. This behavior is fueled by a deep sense of responsibility and selflessness, sometimes even border on self-destructive tendencies. A trait that he hated the most and a behavior she could not ever change...

Female reader will be named as Celestial

Just like the day before, the empress continued to feel a strange emptiness inside. Despite the newfound freedom of her confinement, she did not feel any joy or gratitude, just a mere sense of detachment. She might had just gotten use being alone in her room and not spending time outside. Worst still, if Claude could so easily release her from the restriction spell, he could just as easily re-impose it upon her.

His power and influential status rendered him virtually untouchable, leaving her feeling powerless. His powerful mana was even a stark reminder of why the late emperor had shifted his favoritism from his son with the empress to the one with a mere maid. That was how powerful the current King of Obelia.

Therefore, instead of just placing the sole blame on the former empress for her harsh treatment towards Claude, Celestial held a different perspective. She could understand and sympathize with the former empress' actions, knowing that they were likely born out of intense pain and betrayal.

Celestial recalled the rumors about how the former empress had married the king for power and status. How diverse it was from the truth as she still remembered the looks in the empress eyes. The hatred, hostility, loath and distaste, only capable to form due to amount of love for the king.

The one that should be blamed was the former king who desired someone other than his sole partner. He did not even perform his duty to both of his sons as a father figure. Due to that understanding, it was easier to be closed to the former queen and Celestial understanding even deepen as she experienced the same situation.

The empress stared into the cup of tea in her hands, her solemn eyes reflecting back at her in the liquid's surface as if mocking her miserableness. Instead of treating it as her light drink, she had darker thoughts, contemplating other purposes for the tea. She raised her head and turned her gaze to Claude, contemplating the dark thoughts that fleetingly crossed her mind.

Yet, she quickly dismissed them in favor of her beautiful child, Athy. No, she should hold herself back at least for Athy sake. It would be uncomfortable and unpleasant for a child to watch an adult fight, especially between the empress and emperor. She had also given her word to her ex-lady-in-waiting, Lilian York, to ensure the child's safety.

"My lady, I know it's already hard for you but please keep Athy safe"

"Don't you worry, Lily. Your desire is just the same as mine"

Celestial found herself reluctantly joining Claude and Athy on the boat ride, her protective instincts on high alert, ready to shield the princess from any harm that might come her way. She had assumed that Athy might be scared of her tyrant father, but instead, the child seemed delighted by Claude's invitation. Athy even called this guy papa in affection tone. Was it because she craved her father love all this time? How was her life in the Ruby Palace?

She could not help but feel her heart ache at the thought of Athy's life in the Ruby Palace. The child was likely isolated and lonely, with a deep yearning for her parent's love. Having lost her mother since she was born, all of that crave of love and attention would have been directed towards her father alone. Celestial felt her heart broken upon imagining it.

Celestial gently lifted up the petite princess and placed her on her lap, encircling her small waist with a soft and protective grasp. She could not help but wonder if all children at age 5 were this diminutive.

The little girl was initially surprised by the sudden move, but soon after, she relaxed and leaned her warm, small body against the empress's chest. The young princess seemed to find comfort in the safety and protection that Celestial's embrace brought while watching the scenery around her.

'Yes, mama's here Athy. There is no need to be afraid. I will protect you'

The minutes ticked by in silence, with none of the three uttering a word. The emperor kept his stoic gaze on both the empress and his daughter, while the empress deliberately avoided looking at her husband, choosing instead to focus on the lake. Meanwhile, the young princess, having grown bored with the inactivity, slipped off from her place in the empress's lap and began to explore the boat, particularly intrigued by the magic that enabled its movement.

"What are you thinking about?"

Claude was the first to break the silence, his gaze shifting towards his moving daughter. Celestial was about to intervene, having noticed the child's discomfort, but her attention was captured when the girl spoke up, her next words startling the empress.

"You hair is sparkly and pretty, papa! Like the lake water! I like sparkly things! Hehehe"

A smile tugged at the corner of Claude's lips, his usually stoic expression softening slightly. The young princess' compliment seemed to please him, her words causing a genuine or what seems to be smile to form on his face.

Seeing the interaction between father and daughter, Celestial's pay more attention to her surroundings, her body tensed, and her gaze sharpened, ready to intervene if bad occurrence happen. Having a slight interest from Claude would subject to his unpredictable actions.

Claude spoke again, his tone casual yet laced with something else. "That reminds me, you had a pouch of jewels with you that day. I kept your treasures safe and sound. Why don't you come and retrieve them yourself next time?"

Celestial's instincts kicked in. It was clear to her that her husband's invitation was more of a threat than a genuine offer. After all, this was the same man who had attempted to take the princess' life the moment she was born. This was also the man who had sacrifice his half blood brother for the throne.

"Stop treating Athy as your plaything, Claude," Celestial said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. "What's the point of Sir Felix? Order him to send the pouch."

Claude turned his attention to her, his features hardening at her words. He let out a scoff, his voice cold. "And why should I do that? Stop regarding Athy as my plaything? Nonsense. She's my daughter, and I have every right to regard her as I please." He clearly stated or mocked the empress true status for the said princess as if he meant his wife did not behold any power or right on the child.

Celestial responded, her tone laced with a mix of sarcasm and bitterness as she would not back off easily. "Ah, so you've finally realized you're a father? How amusing. That's the funniest thing I've heard all day, Claude."

She knew she promised herself not have a fight with the emperor in front of the child but this guy really invited it. Meanwhile, the young princess continued to distract herself staring into the lake by the side of the boat, seemingly oblivious to the tense atmosphere between the rulers of the empire. However, Celestial had already observed that the child was quite intelligent and knew when the princess just feign ignorance to her surrounding.

"Do not tell me how to treat my own child, Celestial. I will do as I please with my daughter, and you have no say in the matter. She is mine, and not yours"

Maybe because she was busy to think about a good comeback to her husband words, she was being too emotional and lost her compose self. Celestial did not manage to focus her attention on the princess who was reaching out into the lake with her tiny hand, siding too much to the side that she fell out of the boat. After hearing a splashing sound does she noticed Athy was nowhere inside the boat and there was someone struggling inside the lake and shouting for help in desperation.

Celestial, consumed by the heat of the argument, failed to pay attention to the princess. She failed to notice the young princess reaching out towards the lake, leaning too far to the side and falling over the edge. The sound of the splash and the desperate cries for help jerked her out of her focused state, and she instantly realized that Athy was missing from the boat and struggling in the water.

"H-help.... Help..!"

"Athy!" She shouted, her voice filled with a mix of panic and concern. She immediately rushed towards the edge of the boat, her eyes scanning the surface of the lake for the sign of the struggling child.

Celestial desperately strained her arm to reach out and grab ahold of the struggling princess, but she was too far away. Her heart filled with despair as she gazed down at the thrashing child, trapped in the clutches of the deadly lake.

The lake, adorned with beautiful blue lotuses, was not as innocent as it appeared. Infused with potent magic, the plants served as a formidable trap, designed to ensnare any intruder and relentlessly pull them down until they were completely lifeless. It was one of the most dangerous trap put in the palace and her own child succumb to such trap due to her carelessness.

As a product of her noble upbringing, Celestial had been shielded from learning how to swim due to societal norms. Such skills were deemed unbecoming of a lady, as it was expected for a woman to be rescued by a hero rather than be the hero herself.

Never be the lead but be one of the main character. If only that ridiculous traits not being implemented to the society, if only she knew how to swim then Athy's suffering would be alleviated.

The sight of the child's frail arms flailing helplessly in the water, desperately grasping for air, caused Celestial's heart to sink in despair. Only Claude, who used to live in a harsh environment, who she once saw the former empress push him into the lake could help.

"SHE'S YOUR DAUGHTER! CLAUDE! DO SOMETHING!"

Celestial's desperate plea fell on deaf ears as Claude sit there like a statue, his expression devoid of any emotion. His callous indifference was even more evident as he remained motionless, not even a hint of panic or concern evident in his demeanor.

'He was not normal. He was not human. How could as a father to react such way...'

Celestial's heart shattered as she witnessed her child being dragged further into the water, her hair slowly vanishing beneath the surface. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she begged for her husband's intervention.

"CLAUDEE!!!"

Finally, Claude responded to Celestial's desperate plea and moved to scoop up his daughter with one strong arm in ease. His sleeve became wet as he retrieved the child from the water.

The boat glided towards the shoreline, and soon Athy was placed gently on the ground. Lily, Felix, and several other panicked maids rushed to the princess's side, assessing her condition as she lay on the ground, panting and coughing, her wet hair sticking to her face.

Athy continued to cough violently, her body attempting to expel the lake water from her lungs. As the child suffered, Celestial refused to hesitate further. While she may not have been able to save her child in the lake, she was determined to prevent any further suffering due to today's harrowing experience.

With fierce determination, Celestial made up her mind, no longer caring about the consequences for herself. Who would care what would happen to her if she used this power after a long time?

Celestial placed her hands on Athy's chest, her palms emitting a soft white light as she absorbed the young princess' suffering into herself. However, before she could complete the healing process, Claude quickly moved to stop her, his expression panicked and concerned as he was familiar to the power side effect.

"Cease it!" he exclaimed, his words laced with panic. "I forbid you to continue! Stop! Don't waste it on that child!"

With an iron resolve, Celestial stood her ground as Claude attempted to pull her away from the princess. She determinedly increased the flow of her power, channeling all of Athy's pain and sorrow into herself. As the princess' condition improved, it was the empress who started coughing, the effects of the healing process taking a toll on her own body.

As water filled her lungs, Celestial felt a mixture of pain and relief, knowing that she had managed to save the child from further suffering. However, the strain of the healing process and her already weakened condition took their toll, leaving her unconscious. Before succumbing to darkness, she faintly heard a desperate voice calling out to her.

"Celestial! Celestial! CELESTIAL!!!"

@fluffy-koalala @happydeertraveler @sethianaa @is2sae

Chapter 7 << Previous, Next >> Chapter 9

[twentiethcenturysims]

Thank you to everyone who came to trick-or-treat!

Treats will be released publicly tomorrow, November 1st.

A little more on the Loveless family below the cut (tw: child death)

Bad luck can hang like a heavy cloud over a place, for reasons unknown, causing trouble of all sorts - from mishaps to tragedies. This was the case with the Loveless home, built in 1908 and moved into the very same year by the young family. The stern and unyielding Ernest Loveless, and his troubled wife Sybilla, along with their children: bookish Verna, fanciful Leona, energetic Boyd, and little Wendell.

Did something already haunt the halls of the new house? Something inhuman, which delighted in the misery of the human residents? Ernest went first, a sudden cardiac arrest as he smoked his pipe in the parlour. His cruelty in life made him less than fondly remembered by his children in death, but Sybilla was distraught. And in her mourning, she began to forget her duties, and the children were left to care for themselves and each other.

Little Wendell was the first young life lost - drowned, in the pond, when Verna left him for a moment to fetch a book from the library. In her despair, the eldest girl buried herself deeper in her fantasy worlds, the stacks of books growing higher around her in the library until one day her piles became structurally unstable and fell on her, trapping her and leading to her death.

Leona was next. One minute, on her swing - the next, she was gone, and only a spattering of blood on the swing to suggest what may have happened. A madman, on the lose in their town?

Sybilla was broken by the loss of her children, and forbid Boyd from setting foot outside the house. She locked the doors, closed the heavy curtains, and hid her remaining child from the outside world. But Boyd was a wild young boy, and when cooped up, he couldn't help himself - he slid down banisters, climbed on furniture, and eventually took a tumble from the top of the stairs - another young life lost.

Sybilla, left alone in the expansive house, began to feel as though death pressed in on her from all sides. She felt ill, her heart fluttered, her skin seemed to yellow and age before her eyes. She had lost her husband, her children, and now even her beauty was deserting her. Worse even than this - she began to hear the voices of her departed family, and see glimpses of them in the shadows. In time, her fear turned to comfort - if they were still here, in spirit, she could pretend they had never died. And she wouldn't be alone. As she turned her mind more and more towards the ghostly remnants of her family, her health continued to decline, until one day she awoke to find her family more real to her than they had been in months - and her own body slumped over her vanity. Dead. But she was glad. Embracing her family, she swore that they would never leave the estate, and always be together within it's grounds.

So, to the young explorer who set out to explore the Loveless house, there's the answer - HAUNTED, very haunted. Extra specially haunted!

[scarlethexelove]

Gone

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1482

Warnings: Angst, Major Character Deaths, ⚠️Suicide⚠️, No happy ending.

Part 1: Please Don't Leave Me

A/n: So I tried to write a happy ending but I really just didn't like it at all. So my sleep deprived brain said fuck it and went all out. This broke my heart writing so enjoy the pain.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

The room was mostly quiet. Nurses filed in and out as time passed. Slow tears still fell down Nat's cheeks as she waited. Xander slept soundly in her arms as she looked at his face. He looked so much like you already and her heart hurt. All she hopes is for you to pull through. It has been hours and the nurses refuse to tell her anything. She wants to make it right with you to build the family she never had, but she isn’t sure she will ever get the chance. 

A tear slips down Nat’s face onto Xander’s cheek. He scrunches his face up at the feeling but soon settles staying sound asleep. Nat is pulled out of her thoughts when the door opens. A gurney is wheeled in. Your body lying peacefully in the middle of the white sheets, but something isn’t right. You’re so pale and unmoving. She rushes over to you. Still holding Xander firmly she reaches for your hand. Words floating in the air but she can’t hear them. Her hand slips into yours and she almost recoils at the touch. You’re cold. 

Tears blur Nat’s eyes as she looks to the doctors. Their faces are full of sorrow and regret. “We tried everything we could but we couldn’t control the bleeding.” One male doctor who Nat has never seen speaks up. “W-what do you mean?” Her voice shakes. “She’s gone. I’m sorry.” He says. Nat shakes her head repeatedly saying no like her words could change the outcome. The word gone repeating in her head over and over again. You were gone and she couldn’t save you. 

The doctor slowly exits the room leaving a broken Natasha behind as she holds Xender close to her body. Her hand is now trembling holding yours. Tears falling freely down her face and down onto your pale skin. You look as though you’re sleeping, like she could shake you awake. Her heart is shattering in her chest. You are gone and you’re never coming back. Leaving her with your son. She doesn’t know how she can do this without you. You were always the best part of her. Without you all she is is a kill machine. Designed for death and destruction. That death and destruction is now taking you away from her and your son. She would do anything to trade places with you. To be the one laying in that bed cold and gone. 

The door slams open, hitting the wall harshly. A mix of fury and hurt on Wanda’s face. Her stride conveys her anger. Her eyes landing on your body as she bites the inside of her cheek trying to stay strong. Her gaze turned to the other red head in the room. Wanda points as Natasha. “You.” Wanda seethes. “You did this to her.” Her eyes turn a dangerous shade of red as she lets the anger take control. 

Natasha can’t help but lower her gaze, not able to face the other woman. “You fucking left her alone and pregnant. Now look at her.” Wanda demands. “I said look at her.” Nat’s gaze moves to your soft face. “She is fucking dead and it is all your fault.” Natasha is quiet as she speaks. “I know.” Wanda scoffs at her anger not yet dissipated. “She fucking loved you. Y/n fucking loved you more than anything but you couldn’t care less about her. All you cared about was your stupid job. You had the best possible woman at home and now you’ll never have that again. You didn’t deserve her and you sure as hell don’t deserve her son. He may be a part of you but I hope that he is all of her. That boy deserves much better than a deadbeat mother like you. You should be the one that is dead. One day I hope that this catches up to you and it fucking kills you.” The fury at Nat finally turning into sorrow at the loss of you. Her best friend will no longer be in her life and she doesn’t know how to live without you. 

Even though the both of them know that truely Nat had nothing to do with your death they both blame her. She blames herself, maybe you would be alive if she was around. Things could have been so different. You’re supposed to be a happy family and now you're gone. She tries to hold it together for as long as she can. Her legs are shaking as she tries to stay standing. Your loss cut her deeper than any wound she has ever had. 

Wanda is stroking your hair as she cries. She never expected to lose you. To lose another important person in her life but you're gone now and she can’t fix it. She can’t bring the dead back to life. 

Wanda can’t stand to see you like this anymore. She begins to move towards the door. As she does Nat’s legs give out under her as a sob racks her body. Xander cries at the sudden movement and as much as it pains Wanda to hear his cries she also knows she can’t do anything because Nat is still his mother. Wanda looks at Nat and shakes her head as the redhead cries on the floor clutching your son. “Pathetic.” Wanda murmurs as she exits the room. 

Nat knows that she has deserved everything that has come her way since your death. The Avengers are only helping her because of Alexander. But every single one of them is giving her the cold shoulder, even Clint. Their only focus has been to help Xander. She has become a shell of her former self as she refuses to eat or train. She spends whatever time she isn’t sleeping with Xander. It hurts her to see him. He is just a reminder of you and what she has lost. 

Today has been hard. No one is here to help her with Xander. Her mind racing with all the cold looks and hurtful words spewed her way. All of them ringing true in her mind she deserves all of it. All the hate and all the hurt. She looks at Xander sleeping peacefully in his crib. Her heart hurts as everything plays back. Wanda was right, she doesn’t deserve to be here. She knows what she has to do to make things right. 

Knocks on the door echo through the home. Wanda stops chopping her vegetables and placing the knife down on the counter. “Just a minute.” She calls out as she wipes her hands on the apron adorning her hips. She makes her way to the front door, not hearing the tell tell signs of an important news flash. Her hand on the handle twisting it open and pulling the door towards herself. To her surprise no one is there. Her brows furrow thinking maybe she just imagined it. She is about to close the door when she hears a cry. Wanda is caught off guard when she looks down and sees Alexander placed in a basket in front of her door.  

Wanda picks Xander up in her arms gently rocking him as she enters the house. “Vision!” She calls out as her mind begins to race. Where the hell is Natasha? Why was Xander left in a basket on her doorstep? Did Natasha leave him here? What the hell is going on?

A loud warning on the tv sounds and Wanda’s attention is drawn to the tv. A breaking news cast flashes on the screen. “Avenger Natasha Romanoff AKA Black Widow has been found dead in her home. At this time Police do not believe there has been any foul play involved. Some reports indicate a self inflicted wound. We will bring you more on this store as information is available.” The news caster disappears from the screen as it begins to play its regular programming. 

All Wanda can hear is the sound of blood rushing through her ears. Her head reeling from the information. This can’t be real can it. How can any of this be real? You are gone and now so is Natasha. Leaving Alexander with no parents. Breaking her heart as the reality that he is becoming just like her an orphan. 

Vision calls out to Wanda as she stares off into space. “Wanda?” Vision is able to finally break through to Wanda. She blinks her eyes not even noticing how they now shine with unshed tears. Her gaze met his confused one. He looks at Xander in her arms and back up to Wanda. 

Are Her words the cause of all of this? Did her words ring true? Wanda’s tearful gaze looking down at the bundled sleeping baby in her arms. Before looking back up to Vision. The only words that Wanda can manage to muster. “I killed her.”

Only time tag list: @fxckmiup @esposadejoyhuerta @megluv1 @leenasayeed @sgm616 @midastouch013 @ordelixx @simp4nat @dvrkhcld

[kokoch4n3l]

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

TWELVE — his dead girl's beach

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

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

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

word count: 20 446

masterlist | previous | chapter 13

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"yeah?"

"do you miss her?"

"Emma?"

"Yeah"

"Sometimes..."

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

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

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

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

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

Izana chuckles. "no she doesn't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That's my girl

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're gonna get bored"

"I don't care"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"hm, how?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Oh.

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

Was this...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sounds so pretty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh Chifuyu.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mikey shot her and she was going to die. 

Oh, what a fitting end. 

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

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

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

She won. 

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

"Inside with Sanzu" Kakucho answers

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

Mikey shot her in the heart. 

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

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

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

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

His dead girl's beach.

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

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

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

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

also vote on this poll for my next series

likes, asks and reblogs greatly appreciated

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

[brewed-pangolin]

Salvation at the Shelter

This is my first entry into the Soap It Up Challenge by @glitterypirateduck, and apparently I'm feeling angsty. I don't write angst well, but that doesn't mean I won't try. I only used one prompt for this, and I'll let y'all find it. Sorry for the feels on for this Super Soap Sunday.

cw: mentions of loss. also a few callbacks to mwiii if you look closely

Johnny. Your beloved Johnny.

Gone.

Taken away too soon. Leaving an emptiness in your heart and a hole within your soul.

You grieve for what feels like years, yet only turns out to be days. Time standing still as you continually waist away into a fetal crouched mess alone on your tile floor.

Friends, family, and colleagues all tell you to move on. You have to.

But you can't.

For how can one heal from the pain of losing the other half of your soul?

-

It takes you a solid six months to even begin to feel anything again. Feeling everything and nothing all at once. Overwhelming. And not enough.

The emptiness both devours you entirely while continually spitting you back out like a relentless living turbine.

You try to hide the pain behind a smile. It's futile, but it works with most nonetheless. Most.

A few take notice. Those with their own scared hearts and broken stitched souls underneath a practiced expression.

And that's when a coworker confides in you what she did when she lost her husband many years ago.

-

"Go to the shelter," she says plainly over the rim of her glass.

"The shelter?" You question, raising a brow while fumbling with your lunchbox.

"Like, the homeless shelter?"

"No, silly. The animal shelter. Lots of lost souls needing a home. Maybe one there will help fill that hole inside you."

"I'm fine." You bite back. Swallowing your emotions with a gulp of Orange Fanta as you briskly rise from your chair.

"Mhm. Just give it a shot. Might help." She says before turning to walk down the carpeted hall to return to the solitude of her cubicle.

And you're suddenly left alone again with your thoughts, staring aimlessly at the brightly colored face of the vending machine. The color of the Fanta bottle in your hand so reminiscent to the Irn Bru that was consistently stocked in your apartment, you thought you'd break down right then and there. In the middle of your office hallway.

Subtle reminders of him strewn about all through your day you'd nearly become numb to the constant memory of him.

You choked on your emotions once more. Walking as casually as possible back to the devoid walls of your cubicle. Busying yourself in a desperate attempt to rid the tight entanglement of Johnny's echo buried deep within your mind.

You'd take the advice. Go to the shelter. Fill the emotionless void within your soul with at least something. Anything. Hell, even a goldfish would do.

-

The sound was defeaning.

It made your ears ring and your bones tremble. The constant barrage of barks, howls and wails nearly made you spin on your heals and exit before even entering the double doors.

Yet you stood fast. Pushing forward. Perhaps somewhere in this cacophony of canine chaos, you could find solace from your unrelenting heartache.

"I'm just here to look," you tell the attendent with a stern brow. It's a lie, of course. But you muster the strength of poise and composure as your heart and spine wither to dust with every passing moment.

"That's what they all say," the keeper, Jared by the nameplate and probably no more than 18 replies. A wisdom in his voice as he's seen the world come through those doors a thousand times.

"C'mon. And don't get too close to the cages."

You follow close behind. Eyes scanning back and forth between metal bars, taking in the mirage of fur covered lost souls while somehow searching for one that may pull at your broken heart.

German shepherds. Pit bulls. Weimaraners. Jack Russels. Dachshunds. Every breed you could name and so many others you barely could identify.

And they all seemed to mirror your expression perfectly.

Searching. Waiting.

Waiting for an absolution that would never come.

You felt their pain. Their loneliness. Their betrayal.

Still though, non called to you. Marked you.

You were told not to look into their eyes, but how could you not. It had become so second nature to get lost in his eyes you nearly forgot what it felt like to be without them.

You were rounding the corner to the main exit, only a few cages remaining, and a sickening feeling began to boil within your gut. Choking on the bile in your throat with a fruitless attempt at speech.

"That it?"

It was a total loss. Heart sinking to your knees as Jared, the wayward keeper, opened the doors to escort you out of the wing and down an adjacent hall.

"I can show you one more. He's scheduled to be euthanized tonight. He's young. But he's very high energy. And a stubborn little shit. Which is why no one wants him."

He knitted his brow, opening the door to let you in as the overwhelming sound of aggressive barking and growling filled your ears.

Reluctantly, you stepped into the confined room. The solitude had made the poor animal more ruthless and hostile to anyone who stepped through those heavy doors.

Yet something pulled you in. A feeling. A tug at your heart that swiftly moved to wrap around your spine and move you forward.

And as you shut the door, the barking steadily began to settle. The blur of furr and teeth slowed and gradually transformed into a more discernable figure.

And as you stepped up to the cage, you cautiously crouched down to meet the animal at its level and finally met the eyes of a soul you had thought was lost to you long ago.

Blue. A blue so pure yet somehow so misunderstood. An icy cerulean wrapped around tan fur and sharpened teeth topped with blacked edged ears and darkened socks on his feet.

His, because it was obvious. He hadn't been fixed yet.

"Yeah, he's got a thing with doors. He's fine while they're closed but goes ballistic at the slightest movement."

You take note of the dogs calming demeanor. Keeping a close eye on him, scanning across his back and hindquarters, inspecting his conformation for any obvious or detrimental abnormalities.

"Poor thing seems pretty docile once he's settled down," you remark. "Why'd the last family give him up?"

You slid slowly along your feet, edging closer as the canine's demeanor shifts to become more open and submissive. Ears perked with a gradual pull of its paw to expose its tender underbelly.

"They lived next to a railroad or something. Apparently, he hates trains, too."

"What's his name?" You inquire, unable to break the stare as you gently move your hand between the bars in an attempt to gain a physical connection.

"He doesn't have one. And I wouldn't do that, ma'am. He's got-"

He chokes on his words as the fearful pup inches forward to bring the top of his nose your fingertips. You remain calm, quiet. And so does Jared. More out of sheer terror of the inevitable bite that was surely to come.

With a few curious sniffs of your scent, the dog pulls himself forward and against your hand in a desperate attempt to feel your touch.

He curls his back into your palm, rolling his spine underneath the tips of our fingers while moving to lay on the concrete floor.

It's in that moment you know you've been marked. Two lost souls finding one another in the cold and metal walls of a heartache and rekindling the vigor of life within your devoid souls.

"Damn. Never seen him do that before."

You acknowledge his voice, but the only sound reverberating in your ears is the constant strum of your beating heart. Alive once more as the ancient connection between man's best friend heals the scars of an unending loss.

"How old is he?" You ask, turning to face the man standing next to you. Comfortable enough to trust the newly found bond forged as a feeling of warmth and rejuvenation bellows from within your abdomen.

"About six months, I think. Give or taken a few weeks."

Six months. It's purely coincidence.

"I'll take him."

"Alright then. I'll get the paperwork."

You retract your hand just as Jared opens the door, and the frightened pup bolts to cowar in the safety of the corner once more.

But he remains silent. A searching stare locking into your gaze to gauge how to move forward with this unknown terrain.

Slowly, you extend your hand once more into the cage to coax him back to your touch. Rebuild the bond of trust once more as you wait for the inevitable to blow through the door.

With a solemn yet comforted look in the pups eyes, he gradually crawls over and rests his chin within the palm of your hand. Soul blazing eyes staring up within the confines of furr, having a certain familiarity you hadn't seen since so painfully losing that love so long ago.

"That's it. I'll take care of you," you whsiper in a voice akin to haunting within the walls. Rubbing your thumb along his bristled jaw line, not to dissimilar to the affection you showed once before to another blue eyed angel.

The heavy door swung open once more, yet you both remained entwined within an enamored bond as the attendant gently turned the metal knob.

"Think you've found yourself a dog there, ma'am," he muttered with a smile, extending the pen and paperwork for your newly attained ownership.

"You think of a name yet?"

You remained silent for a moment. Knowing full well his name was bestowed upon him the moment you walked through that door.

With one quick glance into his eyes once more, you fell in love with him all over again. And uttered the name you'd thought was destined to become nothing more than a distant memory.

"Johnny. Gonna call him Johnny."

This is hit me just before going to bed and I had to get it out. Love them furbabies. Boop all the snoots.

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @writeforfandoms @punishmepunisher @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @jynxmirage @obligatoryghoststare @shotmrmiller @astraluminaaa @ghosts-goldendoodle @kkaaaagt @mykneeshurt @simpingoverquestionablemen @queen-ilmaree @thetrashpossum @designateddeadend @luismickydees @foxface013

[arctophyllax]

*clears throat* why I think Larian should let us recruit Zevlor:

More people are desperate for Zevlor than I thought at first. We all want to see him happy. We all want him to get all that he deserves and more. He just has SO much potential, he’s such a well written character just for his story to get cut off so suddenly? Thinking about how badly his story was neglected by Larian after they made us so attached breaks my heart. Of all side characters we met along the acts he is undeniably one of the most important and memorable ones; we fought for him, we saved him, we helped him, hells we even get the option to reject his payment for us for helping him and his people.

We practically got nothing out of helping him, especially the ones who reject his payments and i find myself rejecting the payment every single playthrough because i can’t find it in my heart to take something away from people who have nothing left already. If you betray the tieflings you get Minthara- and yes that may cost you certain companions too, but wouldn’t it be fair to be able to have Zevlor at camp if we save his people? At least after we save him in act 2? That way it would still be optional but god I need him so badly, I need to see him happy, I need Larian to let me look after him and take care of him and make sure that he doesn’t drown in sorrow and I know everyone who reads this feels exactly the same.

He went through so much, and every time his hope returned it got shattered to bits again. And it just feels like we’re forced to “give up” on him after we let him wander away in act 2. It doesn’t feel right. It will never feel right. We saw how miserable he was in that pod, how distressed and in pain he was. Common sense would have told us to take him with us. Make sure he fucking survives the night without doing anything stupid. Clean him off the blood and clean him off his worries, all that self hatred.

God, do I so hate to see him in such distress. And while a tiny part of me believes that death might have actually been a small mercy for him I was and will never be ready to give up on him.

Every time I see him on that damned screen, every time he speaks and every time I witness him interact with someone I DON’T see an oathbreaker who failed his people and had to be saved from being consumed by the Absolute. All I see is a competent leader who carries a burden not meant to be carried by one person alone.

This has nothing to do with him being weak. This has nothing to to with him being incompetent or not careful enough. This has nothing to do with any lost faith or broken oath. This has to do with the fact that he is so selfless that he wouldn’t allow himself to share this burden with anyone.

Yes he has (had?) his fellow tieflings, he has Tilses right beside him all of the time. But did he ever open up to her? Does he ever accept any help from his own people while he knows that they are already suffering? Would he EVER allow ANY of these people to carry even a SLIVER of his burden?

No. He would not. He would NEVER let them bear any of those duties, he has seen them in way too much pain already, seen them suffer far too often.

He is the type who gives and gives and gives and he never takes. He doesn’t know how to take, take anything positive.

His past, his comrades, his Hellriders- yes he had them. They gave him as much as he gave them. But they got torn away from him, cruelly and mercilessly.

His people, the refugees, family- he had them. And they gave him the respect and admiration he deserved. But they got torn away from him. Cruelly. Mercilessly.

His saviour, us, Tav- he had us. But we left him. Because we had no choice. We watched him walk of as though it was nothing. Cruelly. Because we could do nothing else.

And yes, I will always see red at that. Because we SHOULD be able to do better. We shouldn’t be just another loss for him.

And I will personally fistfight Larian if it meant hope for just a single chance at giving Zevlor what he never allowed himself to have: stability, encouragement. Someone he can rely on and share his burden with. A rest. Peace.

(Larian do you hear me I am under your bed we are going to fight)

(Scratch would like him to stay at camp, too)

(And what Scratch wants, Scratch gets. Right?)

(No because when you talk to Scratch the second time at camp during the tiefling party he actually says that he wouldn’t mind if you kept the tieflings at camp… trust me, Scratch, i wouldn’t mind either)

…I’d honestly die for him who’s with me

[cer-rata]

I did it, I finished the fic.

Cover by the amazing @nicodrawings

It's 109k and fully complete, welcome to my oc's first cursed, sappy adventure.

"Heart of Gotham"

Fandom: Detective Comics

Rating: T M

Summary:

Conrad Bishop thinks he knows who he is: A nerd, a goof, a coward. But heartbreak comes along to destroy that version of him. As he shatters, an alien ring decides that the depth of his pain has the potential to forge him into a potent Star Sapphire. While grief may be a devastatingly powerful form of love, can he survive on it alone? Maybe not. But it’s what he thinks deserves.

Everyone thinks they know who Damian Wayne is: A prince, a pariah, a hero. The truth is worse. No one thinks he’s easy to love, and he agrees. It’s fine. He doesn’t need it, he’s got duty and a body to spend in service of it until there’s nothing left to hate. But sometimes? Sometimes he wonders if that’s all he can be.

By chance they share the same science class, and--for better or worse--that's all it takes to send them on a path that neither of them would have ever dared to consider.

Love conquers all.

...Maybe

Excerpt:

Damian started changing out of his uniform and Conrad awkwardly looked away. He cleared his throat. “Hey, so, I’ve been thinking…”

“Hmm?” Damian grunted as he unclasped and slid his tunic off.

“Well, you used the ring to save me, right? But you know...the whole bit is that if you want to heal someone you have to…uh. You'd…you'd have to love--"

“Philia.” Damian cut in quickly.

“Did…did you--was that a slur?”

“…No! Philia is the Greek concept of love between friends. That’s what the ring was pulling from.” It was mostly true. It was mostly philia. Mostly.

Conrad considered that for a moment, then beamed. “Oh. Oh! So you admit it? You think we’re friends?”

Damian finished pulling a hoodie on and turned to squint at him. “How are you this stupid.”

“Oh my god you do!”

“If you’re like this for the entire ride back, there is a high likelihood that I will change my--oh come on!” Damian complained fruitlessly as he had to endure yet another hug. “I should have let you bleed out.” He hissed, and Conrad just laughed.

“I love you too, buddy.”

A tip of the hat:

Before I get into anything else, again the cover and reference sheet were done by the amazing @nicodrawings. She's terrific, professional, easy to work with (and I am ANNOYING), and I think the quality speaks for itself. Her art is tremendous and her covers are maybe the highest quality I've seen from an indie artist.

And those colors.

Her commissions are open right now and she's making a fan comic that looks so cool, and she does all this other cool stuff. Check her out, okay?

Concepts, Themes, and Character Focus

The core questions I wanted to ask were:

"Can two broken people ever be good for each other?"

"Can you actually move past the pain of loss?"

"How do you love someone?"

I love Lantern lore, and Star Sapphires specifically. Maybe too much

I was fascinated by a Corps that represented love but was usually fueled by despair and anguish instead, and wielded one of the harder to control colors of the Emotional Spectrum. So I decided to create one from scratch and place them in Earth's most notorious tragedy factory: Gotham City.

Conrad is shamelessly emotional and ruled by his affections, and was like that even before the ring. The only son of a pair of Haitian immigrants, Conrad grew up feeling very loved, and even his parents terrible handling of his attempt to come out wasn't enough to shake that. But his parents never really pushed him, and his easy-going nature meant he didn't develop a lot of self determination. Then he suffers an incredibly traumatizing loss, and suddenly his carefully laid carpet of normalcy and avoidance is torn up to reveal some structural problems underneath.

Damian is emotional and ruled by his affections, and is a little ashamed of it. He also felt loved when he was growing up, but unlike Conrad, much of the love he received was in the form of praise for his success, which had the unfortunate effect of making him seek approval in ways that were often unhelpful, most often to himself. He's tried so hard, and done so much work to be a better person, and he's even accumulated a group of peers who adore him. But he's still lonely, has trouble accepting his own progress, and the guilt he carries making new connections difficult.

Everyone is a couple of years older than they are in canon, which I did to make the content more appropriate, and also so I could play with the ambiguity of those three undocumented years, and hand wave away some of the more...uncharitable parts of canon without having to rewrite everything. This is Damian still on his early Rebirth character track, before the many resets to his character development. He's still harsh and somewhat antisocial, but he's also older, more mellow, and has worked through a couple of things. He's settled enough to allow for some honest introspection.

I didn't initially plan for this to be a love story, but their internal conflicts were complimentary and their deepest wishes slotted together so neatly that the direction felt natural. They cover many of each other's weaknesses and blind spots, while making some of their other hangups worse.

The romance isn't even the critical part really, it's just the way they end up expressing emotional intimacy. They are friends first, and that's what holds everything together. It's all about them showing up for each other in ways that are sometimes difficult, and the fact that they always will, regardless of whether they're in a relationship or not.

It's an awkward, intense, teen relationship, and it's not always a good thing for either of them--even before factoring in cosmic super weapons and secret identities.

Also, there are... a lot of cameos and odd side characters.

[rainintheevening]

Part I - Part II ... Part XVIII - Part XIX

It hurts to see Peter hurting.

More than the state of their city (still theirs), more than the shattered buildings (he imagines the inferno of Christmas with a little shiver), even more than the dark smudges under their mother's eyes (he and Susan make all the meals during the holidays), it's Peter who wrenches at his heart, ache welling behind Ed's sternum.

He sees how Peter yearns for a sword, an enemy, a way to make all the brokenness around them right. More than sees, though, Edmund knows.

Knows the hunger that eats at the back of the throat, the way a single page in the newspaper swamps security like a tidal wave, the helplessness that weighs shoulders and hands till falling to fury or despair seem the only choices available. Hunger and helplessness had been his old play-fellows, back Before, and now he finds their heads reared again, but he also finds himself too taken up with watching over his brother to pay much attention to them. He forgets himself in his concern for Peter.

Peter does not cry again, not that Edmund sees or hears at least. He sleeps little, laughs less.

The girls too are shaken by the alterations to what had once been their world, but Lucy laughs more than she cries, and Susan steps easily into the motherly role.

Peter does all the shopping. In the span of their three weeks holidays, he also fixes all the bicycles in the garden shed, digs up the whole bed of the Victory garden, mends two broken chairs and a chest of drawers, takes a broken clock to pieces (Ed is the one who finds the problem), and fights four different boys, two of them more than once.

Many of the children who had stayed through the whole of the bombing are quick to sneer at those who did not.

“As if we chose to go!” Edmund complains.

“Cowards,” hisses Daisy Moore as she passes them in the churchyard, and her brother laughs.

“Got scared by a few rockets, and left your poor mother all alone in her shelter, listening to us all burn?”

Ed does not relax his grip on Peter's arm until Daisy and Danny have disappeared, until the tremble of taught muscles under his hand has melted away, until the growl has died in Peter's throat.

“Look,” Ed says with forced lightness, guiding Peter toward the street where Lucy leans against a small tree, singing to herself. “I know it was terrible, but there's no call for talking like that. It might make you feel better for a moment, but it makes someone else feel horrid for awhile, so it's definitely a sum-total loss.”

Peter does not answer.

The next day he and Susan come home from a walk, and his sleeve is torn and there is blood on his knuckles.

“They insulted Susan,” is all he says to Edmund in the mirror, bent over, washing wounded hands.

Edmund is glad when they go back to school.

At St. Maurice’s, Peter's responsibilities are clear, he's respected, he has the wide open sky and the wild moors to ride over.

They step off the train at the village station, and Ed sees him breathing deep, smiling at Colin's enthusiastic greeting, leaping to catch a stolen cap and prolong a wild chase along the platform.

Ed joins Peter very early for a ride the next morning, slapped awake by the cold wet May air, but he sees the light in Peter's eyes, the way he greets each horse in turn, and Ed strokes Rose's neck, tickles under her chin as he smiles himself.

“Perhaps he'll be alright.”

But then this term Wollers is gone, graduated, good, steady old boy off to the war, and the new Head Boy ticks Peter off twice in the first week for ‘interfering’, slaps Alexander Morrow in Ed's form with a hundred lines (in French!) for cheeking him in the hall, and generally does his best to let everyone know he's in charge, while also making everyone hate him for it.

Ed hates it, especially for Peter's sake, when Peter's only a year younger and also named head of the Sixth Form. A few weeks in, Peter joins Ed on the way in to lunch, and his brow is drawn low over still-smouldering eyes, jaw set in a hard line.

“Beaumont”, he says, without preamble. “Trying to tell me what to do about Gilly when it's a Sixth Form matter. Now who’s interfering?”

“Not you,” Ed says mildly, watches Peter's shoulders drop, watches him exhale. “Just don't give him the satisfaction of marking you up for anything,” he adds.

“I know, I know,” Peter sighs. “Jolly well wish I could box him, but I can't unless he starts it. I don't know why they chose him.”

At least Pete has rugger to shine at, Ed thinks. Peter had sat his Junior Cert at the end of last term (and passed with Credit or Distinction in all subjects, which Ed is very proud of him for) so he's more relaxed with his own studies, making time for more tutoring of the young ones, and making the rugby team.

Edmund tries out for the Junior team, gets named a spare. He knows he's not strong, but he is fast, and slippery.

A letter from Dad comes, forwarded from Mum, and it is cheerful, telling them things they already know about the successes in North Africa, expounding on his work learning Arabic, giving a brief written sketch of the desert sunset that strikes up vividly at them like heat from the sand till Edmund can see it as clearly as the view west from Tashbaan.

Peter is quiet though, broody for days after. Ed watches, wonders, worries.

Three months and Peter will be 17, a year off of signing up. Sometimes Edmund is certain Peter would have already gone, fudged his age and signed his name; he doesn't doubt they would take a strapping youth like Peter with very few questions. But he'd promised Mum, and Peter Pevensie is not a promise-breaker.

He's also not the only one hurting, not the only one missing Dad, missing Narnia, but Ed doesn't like to worry his brother, doesn't want to add to the concerns Peter carries.

There are questions sitting somewhere in his stomach, and he tries to ignore them, but they've grown heavier over the days, weeks, months. Time ticking by, another spring, and something about the sunrises, the green flush racing across the quad, rising in the victory garden, the apple trees by the stables bursting into bloom, it makes the longing flare bright in him.

As always the memories stay hazy, sometimes fearfully so, only brought back in sharp relief, a cleared streak in fogged up glass, in odd moments. Ed thinks there's a pattern in it—when a lie hovers on the tip of his tongue, he hears Oreius's voice; when Peter turns with an angry word, he remembers tense council rooms; when an apology fails to melt Edmund's own shame, he sees Tumnus's face. But there are smaller, less specific flashes too, and one day, hard at work with the violin in one of the practice rooms, he gets lost in the music, notes dancing under his fingers, spinning, swooping, diving, soaring, and he plays and plays and plays until he coasts to a halt, stands breathless and a little dizzy, feeling exactly as he had after his first real flight on the back of a gryphon, and his hand on the bow grips involuntarily tighter, as if feathers and fur are slipping through his fingers.

“Oh, don't stop.”

A hoarse whisper making Ed spin round, but it is only Peter leaning in the doorway, yearning writ large across his face, until their eyes meet and it twists into sorrow.

Only then does Edmund realise his cheeks are wet, and he pivots quickly back, lays the violin down gentle, deliberate.

Peter says nothing, but he comes across the room, stands close behind, close enough that Ed decides he doesn't care, and turns, falls into Peter's chest.

Arms wrap strong around him, smile bunches the cheek that presses against his head, but still Peter says nothing, and Edmund is glad. Just for a minute he hides his face in his big brother's shoulder, and lets himself cry. Peter holds him, safe and tight, and he stays, sniffling into Peter’s vest, until Peter says, “It sounded like Narnia. What was it?”

Ed sighs, pulls away to scrub a sleeve across his nose. “I don't know. It just sort of… came over me. Or out of me. Or to me– I don't know.”

Slow grinning pride breaks across Peter's face. “So you're a composer now too!”

And Ed must needs shove him away, rolling his eyes. “I didn't exactly write it down, so I'll probably never be able to play it again.”

“That doesn't change how beautiful it was,” Peter says, hopeful and true like Edmund needs him to be.

He fingers the violin strings, plucking them gently, tick tock tick tock tick, and he says it quiet.

“It's been about ten years. In Narnia. Without us. If the time difference between the professor's visit and ours is consistent.”

“Corin will be a man,” Peter murmurs in the surprised tone of grown-ups talking about nieces or nephews they haven't seen in ages. “And what would you bet Aravis and Cor are married?”

“Peridan and Anna must have several children by now.” Ed’s voice catches in his throat at the thought of his friend, who had sworn he would make Edmund godfather of all his sons, as well as letting him teach them all how to fight. And oh, Ed had stood up at his wedding as best man, hadn't he? While Peter had given Anna away, in lieu of long-lost father or brothers.

“Erah and Pearl–” Peter starts, but can't finish.

“We weren't trying to leave,” Edmund says. “I wish they knew that.”

“We were only following Lucy into another adventure.” Peter has a little half-smile on his lips, and then his arm around Ed’s shoulders is warm.

“The professor said it wouldn't all be easy.” Edmund rests his head on Peter's shoulder.

“Do you ever wish-?” Peter starts, but cuts himself off with a decided “No, I don't.”

Edmund knows, he's wondered himself, once or twice on difficult days, but he always answers the same as Peter. He'll always be grateful they had been brought to Narnia.

But there's one question he does hesitate over, as the seasons change, and the clock ticks on, and he voices it now, barely above a whisper: “Are you so sure we'll go back?”

“Of course,” Peter says at once. “Aslan said we would always be kings and queens of Narnia. We'll get back somehow.”

“You're sure?” Edmund pulls away enough to look hard up into Peter's eyes, searching for a hint of doubt.

“Quite. We have to.” Peter swallows hard, looks away out the window where the rain falls steady in the quad. “We have to,” softer now.

Ed sees the longing in his brother's eyes, and he wishes suddenly that just being here with Edmund and the music and the rain was enough for Peter. But he loves his brother anyway.

“Alright, your majesty,” he says lightly. “Now come on, the supper bell will ring any minute.”

He snaps the clasps on the violin case closed, leads the way out of the room, humming the whisper of wings in a blue sky.

Behind him, Peter is silent.

Next

[jmnxjmnx]

For the last two days, this is all I could think about.

The videos, the songs, the moments, the concerts seen online. The cartoons, the movies, the posters I collected, now resting in my closet, far from home. The drawings I lost, the photos once printed, the covered notebooks, the pins, the rubber bracelets, the t-shirts that no longer fit as I grew. The sting of separation, the weight of farewells, broken promises, and a complicated adulthood. I often say the past doesn't exist in the present, but it’s all I cling to today. Because I'm blind. Part of me hurts, wishing it was just a bad joke, that he's still there, laughing off such bleak news.

The memories I hold onto are the ones that keep him alive in my heart. My experience with One Direction is sacred to me, a gift life gave me at a time when I needed it most. They were, are, and will always be a part of a band that saved me emotionally, that strengthened, helped, and supported me. I don't know how to thank him or the band enough. I hope life lets me meet him, so I can express what his music meant to me, how his lyrics resonated in my life.

I was nine when I first discovered One Direction, not knowing they would become my emotional support by the time I was eleven. They have been, and still are, the biggest part of my heart and soul. They were there through my best and worst days. Losing one of them feels like losing a piece of my soul. We grew up together, and though adulthood brought its complexities, it will never change the love I have for them. This man kept them together for as long as he could.

My adult self is mourning, but the little girl and teenager inside me, she’s crawling on a floor of knives, her eyes red, her body wounded. She only wishes to wake up from this nightmare. She never got to see them live, let alone see him alive. She’s shattered, and because of that, I’m devastated. My condolences go out to his family. May he rest in peace.

🤍🕊

[and i'll still see it, until i die, you're the loss of my life]

[where do broken hearts go?]