#he’s so… idk a better word to say than heavy? like i guess as in with intention? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

m1ckeyb3rry · 10 months ago

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Synopsis: You haven’t gotten along with Tabito Karasu in a long, long time. However, when a chance encounter with a mysterious woman leads to the two of you switching places, you find out that maybe there’s more to him than you realized.

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 8.4k

Content Warnings: crack fic, reader is implied to be smaller/weaker/less athletic than karasu, miscommunication of the sort you’d expect from a k-drama, VERY unserious and stupid, crude humor, non-explicit mentions of karasu’s dick, reader explicitly does NOT have a dick, i haven’t watched the movie freaky friday in ages so don’t expect it to follow that plot or anything, random old lady’s divine intervention saves this dumbass girl failure x boy loser relationship

A/N: to be honest i have nothing to say for myself. there is 0 reason for this to be as long as it is considering how legitimately idiotic of a plot it has LMAOAO but i couldn’t help myself from writing it…i watched an edit of **** and ***** from jjk set to the song ‘freaky friday’ and i was like. inspired. idk. if this is your first time reading smth by me i promise i usually am better than this 😭

The margins of your Mathematics notebook were littered with intricate sketches, pretty birds and flowers arcing alongside the equations that you copied down from the board when you remembered to look up at it. If anyone else in the class could see how little you truly paid attention, they’d likely be furious; after all, you consistently had high marks, often even managing to be first in the class despite your constant distraction.

One person in particular would likely have a heart attack, but considering you liked him the least out of everyone in the entire school, the prospect filled you with a sort of joy and determination to continue in exactly the manner you had been. Tabito Karasu — in his honor, you drew a crow next to the swoop of an integral that you had not bothered with solving, and then, for your personal satisfaction, you crossed it out.

“Yo.” You had not noticed the bell ringing, so caught up were you with shading in the petals of a sunflower, the tip of your pencil growing dull from the heavy, repetitive strokes. “My mom told me to tell you that yours left her purse at our house, so if you could come get it after school, that would be great.”

You glanced up at Karasu, who was standing in front of your desk, his bag slung over one shoulder, his lopsided smile noticeably vanished. It always was when he spoke to you, his face never anything but solemn on those occasions.

“Again?” you said. “Sure.”

“Cool,” he said. “See you then, I guess.”

You wrinkled your nose at his receding back, gathering your own things and following him sedately out of the classroom before splitting off to head to your next period, not even affording him a farewell in return for his half-hearted attempt.

There had been a time, when you were both very young, that you and Karasu had been friends. It wasn’t really your choice, of course. Your mothers had known one another since their college days and thus had been determined to raise their children side-by-side, but neither of you had minded too much.

When your minds were innocent and plain, things came easily and simply. You would make castles in the sandbox of the playground by his house, racing one another down the slides as your mothers watched you and conversed. It had been nice. Back then, Karasu had been a person you could be fond of, and so you had been. He had been your best friend, your only friend, really, and he had even sworn to you that he would always be so, interlocking his pinky with yours and saying that it was a promise.

Anyways, promises were easily made and easily forgotten back then. Not so long after you entered grade school, he abandoned you entirely, sneering at you if you dared to approach him, turning away whenever you waved at him in the hallways. You understood quickly enough what he meant by it, and you grew to resent him as much as you had once cared for him.

It had happened long enough ago that now, there was just an awkward sort of tension between you two whenever you spoke. He must’ve known that you didn’t like him, hadn’t for a while, and he never really pressed the issue, though he never did anything to fix it, either. You doubted he cared; after all, he only ever spoke to you if he absolutely could not avoid it, and you operated by the same policy.

“Hey, Y/N, we’re all thinking of staying after school to study for the Chemistry exam,” your best friend said to you as you settled into your seats for Economics, the one class you both shared. “Wanna come? I know you don’t really need it or anything, but it’d be fun if you were around.”

“You just want me to explain everything to you so you don’t have to read the textbook,” you said.

“Guilty,” she said with a grin that suggested she did not feel very guilty at all. “Sorry, but it’s a really boring textbook.”

“It’s a drag,” you agreed. “I’d say yes, but I can’t. My mother forgot her purse at Karasu’s house when she was visiting, so I have to go with him and grab it on my way back home.”

Your best friend winced. “I’m sorry. Will you be okay? I can come, if you want.”

“There’s nothing to be done about it,” you said, shaking your head. “It’ll be alright. You need all of the studying time you can get, so don’t concern yourself with me.”

“If you say so,” she said reluctantly. “Call me if you change your mind, okay? I think my exam grade is well beyond the point of saving now, so I don’t mind giving up some studying time to help you out.”

“All the more reason for you to study longer,” you said. “Seriously, relax. It’s not like I’m planning on staying there for long. I’ll be so quick that there won’t even be any time for things to get weird.”

The day was over before you knew it, and then you were trudging out of the building, scanning the front entrance for Karasu and finding him leaning against the brick wall of the school, gesturing wildly as he laughed at something one of his teammates had said.

You waited for his teammate to leave, and only then did you approach, stopping a distance away from him and folding your hands behind your back as you waited for him to notice you. He did so almost immediately — he was keen like that, ever aware of everything happening in his general vicinity — and his back straightened, the mirth from earlier dropping into the melancholy you were more used to.

“Let’s go,” you said.

“Yes, let’s,” he said. “Come on. If we cut through town, we’ll get there faster.”

“Okay,” you said.

The two of you walked in silence after that, Karasu’s hands shoved in his pockets as he shuffled along beside you. You hugged a never-opened Economics textbook to your chest, your heart beating against the hard cardboard of the cover.

“How have you been?” Karasu said after a while, when the quiet must’ve grown to be unbearable for his typically talkative self.

“Fine,” you said.

“Same,” he said.

“I didn’t really ask,” you said.

“Right,” he said, “Sorry.”

“There’s no need for any of this,” you said. “We’re not friends, so don’t act like we are. I’m going to your house to pick up my mother’s purse, and then I’m leaving. That’s it.”

“Right,” he said again. You thought he must be relieved that you had given him leave to disregard you. Thus assured that he would leave you alone, you allowed your mind to wander, mulling over the assignments you had due the next day and figuring out a plan to complete them that would require the least amount of effort possible.

“Excuse me!”

You both were passing through a part of town that you did not frequent when the door to a storefront swung open, revealing a wizened old lady. Her thick gray hair was gathered in a knot at the nape of her neck, and her posture was stooped over but her expression was no less intense for the age she showed. You jumped at the abruptness of her exclamation, and you sensed Karasu had been equally as surprised, though he remained far more collected than you had.

“We don’t want to buy anything,” he said bluntly, without even waiting for her to explain.

“It’s not wares I sell,” the woman said. “It’s fortunes.”

“Not interested,” he said, though not without glancing at you, so briefly that you almost believed you had imagined it.

“Listen, boy, I don’t look into the future for just anyone. It’s a rare soul that attracts my attention, and here I have two in front of me! You’ll avoid a lot of misery if you agree to it,” she said.

“We’ll take the misery,” Karasu said. “Like I said, we’re good. Leave us alone, old crone.”

“Be careful who you’re rude to,” the woman said, her irises gleaming. “It’s already cost you once, hasn’t it?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched from how hard he grit his teeth at that. “You’re just saying things.”

“Ma’am,” you said, finally deciding to speak up. This entire conversation was such a waste of time, and furthermore if Karasu was irritated, then you felt as though there was a chance he’d lash out and you’d be the unfortunate victim. “Every minute we are delayed here is another minute I must spend with him, and considering I don’t like him all that much, I’d prefer if we could get on with it.”

“Is that the case?” she said, and then she beamed at you, her lips peeling back in a more sinister form of the expression than she ought to have been capable of. “But wouldn’t you give anything if you could go back to how things once were? I know that he would.”

“Shut up,” Karasu snapped, his face uncharacteristically red. “What the hell do you know about me, anyways? About either of us?”

She began to laugh, and it was a rattling, wheezing sound which made even your own chest ache. Karasu glared at her, but she ignored him completely, cackling and cackling, slapping her knee as if he were an award-winning comedian who had just made the joke of the century. Despite yourself, you inched towards him; he was far from your preferred partner, but you thought that if she were to suddenly lunge at you or something, he was probably your best bet at survival.

“I have seen many versions of you in my lifetime, and you have all said the same. What do I know about you?” the woman said. “Well, well. I’d wager I know quite a bit about you, indeed. How about this? I’ll give you a gift — on the house, of course. Then we’ll see who knows what.”

“We don’t fucking need any gifts,” Karasu said. “Y/N, let’s get out of here. She’s crazy.”

“You can’t deny a gift that’s been freely given!” she shouted gleefully after you as you strode away. “It’s yours, whether you like it or not. Enjoy yourself, baby crow — you may thank me yet!”

Whether it was a placebo borne of the woman’s odd behavior or a symptom of the atmospheric pressure dipping before an out-of-season storm, you noticed that there was a headache mounting behind your left eyebrow. You kept silent about it as you dutifully followed Karasu towards his house, but it was definitely uncomfortable, and whenever he looked away, you’d press the pads of your fingers against the source of the pain in a fruitless effort to alleviate it.

Neither of you said anything until you reached his porch; he had been jarred by the conversation with the woman, though he disguised it with a scowl — it was obvious from the tension of his shoulders, however, and as for you, you relished in the tranquility, which was what you had been seeking the entire time.

“She was full of shit,” he informed you as he unlocked his front door and motioned for you to go inside. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was you, but you had long ago come to the conclusion that the woman was just searching for a way to make a quick sale, so you were unruffled.

“I didn’t think otherwise,” you said. You hadn’t been to his house in a while, but it still looked the same as you remembered it, down to the Siamese cat curled up on the couch — although, of course, far more gray peppered her muzzle than the last time you had seen her. You scratched her under the chin as you waited for Karasu to return with the purse, and without even opening her eyes, she purred at you, rubbing her face against the back of your palm.

“Here you go,” he said, tossing the purse at you. You reached up and caught it with the hand you weren’t using to pet his cat, and then you offered her one last stroke in farewell before heading back to the front door.

“Thanks,” you said.

“Right,” he said. “Anytime. Later, Y/N.”

You glanced at him over your shoulder before nodding, figuring there was no harm in one final act of politeness. No matter the grudge you held against him or how justified it was, you supposed you could be the bigger person this singular time. “Later, Karasu.”

The walk between your houses was not so long, but for some reason, it dragged on and on — a symptom of your headache, maybe? By the time you reached your own doorstep, the world was spinning, and after returning your mother’s purse to her, you stumbled up to your room, flopping face-first on your bed.

A few minutes later, there was a knock. With a groan, you rolled over so that you were lying on your back, a hand covering your eyes so that the fading twilight did not worsen the pounding that had spread from your left eyebrow to your forehead and the back of your neck.

“Come in,” you mumbled out. Your mother poked in her head, a bowl of soup in her hands, a kind frown on her face.

“Are you alright?” she said, sitting beside you and setting up your pillows so you could lean against them.

“My head is killing me,” you said. She pressed her hand against your brow, pursing her lips.

“Doesn’t feel like a fever,” she said. “Here, have this.”

She handed you the soup, which she must’ve been making for dinner. You accepted it gratefully, the heat of the bowl against your skin helping, if only slightly. Taking a sip, you sighed and offered a smile.

“Thanks,” you said. “I’m just going to do my homework and then sleep early. Hopefully it’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

“It looks like there’s going to be a nasty storm tonight, so that could be what’s messing with you,” your mother said, confirming your earlier thoughts. “On the bright side, your father and I won’t have to water the plants.”

“That’s good,” you said as she got up, pressing a kiss to your forehead and closing your curtains so that only your dim, warm lamp lit the room.

“Text me if you want me to bring up some ibuprofen for you,” she said. “But finish that soup first. It’s not good to eat on an empty stomach.”

“I’ll keep you posted, but I think just getting to bed is going to do the most good at this point,” you said. “Thanks again, mama.”

“I miss when you used to call me that all of the time,” she said. “Now my baby’s growing up. Soon you’re going to get married and leave your father and I all alone.”

“Not for a while,” you said with a smile. She scrunched up her nose and blew you a kiss.

“I’ll leave you alone. I hope you feel better soon, honey. Try not to work too hard,,” she said, shutting the door gently, so that it did not slam.

Your homework took you a couple of hours, and it was dark by the time you finished. Only the thought of the further aggravation it would bring should you not complete it managed to push you through the maddening exercise, as your headache had not lessened any in that time. If anything, the steady process of your schoolwork only made it worse, and it was all you could do to get ready for bed before diving in between your sheets and burying your face back in your pillow, drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

You had many dreams that night, most of them unrelated, though the common thread was Karasu. He was in all of them, whether in the background or as a main focus, and indeed when you woke up gasping and in a sweat, his face was the only thing you remembered.

Based on the sun streaming through the window, you had slept for the entire night. An unfamiliar alarm was blaring from your nightstand, and you reached out to silence it before pausing.

The room you were in was not your own. It was different, the sheets a deep navy shade, the blanket a plain gray, an L-shaped desk with a PC on it in the corner. There was a shelf beside the desk, books shoved in between gold soccer trophies — soccer trophies?

“What the fuck?” you said before clapping your hands over your mouth, your jaw dropping as you scrambled out of the bed, your limbs flailing about when the drop ended up being smaller than you had anticipated. Grabbing your phone off of its charger — what the hell was with that bland case? — you raced over to the mirror propped up by the closet.

Upon seeing the reflection in it, you screamed, because for some reason, instead of your own body, it was Tabito Karasu’s staring back at you. You raised one hand and then the other, hoping and praying that it wasn’t real, that you were hallucinating or something, but the reflection followed your movements exactly. When you pinched yourself, that, too, hurt, which meant that somehow, this was happening.

If you were in Karasu’s body, then what about your own? Was he in yours, or had it just vanished or something? You turned on his phone, unlocking it using Face ID and opening the call app. You doubted he had you saved as a contact — after all, the two of you had stopped being friends long before either of you had gotten cellphones — so you went straight for typing in your number, pausing for a moment as it suggested a contact name.

Y/N <3

“What?” you said. There were so many things that needed to be unpacked there, but you decided it wasn’t even worth considering. You had more pressing issues; namely, how had this preposterous situation even developed?

Clicking on the Y/N <3 contact, you held the phone up to your ear, hoping that whoever currently had possession of you would pick up instead of ignoring the call.

“Hello? Who is this?” Hearing your own voice on the other end of a call would ordinarily have been one of the most disconcerting things to happen to you in the last twenty-four hours, but considering you were still reeling from whatever body-swapping nonsense had just transpired, it ended up being kind of underwhelming.

“Karasu?” you said. There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you prayed they would not hang up.

“Y/N?” he said after a moment.

“Yes!” you said.

“So you’re in my body? I was wondering what might’ve happened to me…” he said, trailing off thoughtfully.

“What the hell is going on? Why am I you, and why are you me?” you said. “More importantly, how do we switch back?”

“How would I know? I’m just as lost as you are. By the way, um, why don’t you have my number saved?” he said.

“That’s what you’re choosing to focus on?” you screeched. “There is a dick attached to me! I have a genuine, bona-fide dick right now, and more specifically, it’s your dick! How about we focus on that?”

“Sorry,” he said. “But also, I was trying not to think about that. This is already weird enough, why’d you have to make it worse?”

“I’m trying to impress upon you just how dire our situation is,” you said. “By the way, while we’re on the subject, don’t even think of looking down my shirt. I’ll kill you if you do.”

“I wouldn’t,” he protested.

“Uh-huh,” you said. “Whatever. What are we going to do now?”

“How did this even happen?” he said. “Maybe if we work backwards, we can figure out what we have to do to fix it. What were you up to last night?”

“I just did homework,” you said. “And then I slept. I had a really bad headache, so I didn’t do much.”

“Wait, I had one, too,” he said.

“That doesn’t really mean anything. It’s not like headaches are uncommon,” you said.

“It’s a start, okay? I’m trying here! Why can’t you be cooperative for once?” he said.

��Why can’t you be cooperative for once?” you muttered under your breath, finding that the mockingly high-pitched voice sounded much more derogatory in Karasu’s harsh tones than it ever had coming from you. “Fine. When’d your headache start?”

“While we were walking back from school,” he said. “To my house.”

“That’s about when it happened for me,” you said. “Now that you mention it, it was right after—”

“—right after we talked to that old lady,” he completed for you. “Two steps ahead of you.”

“No, you just cut me off. That doesn’t mean you were ahead of me,” you said. “It just means you’re rude.”

“Sure, sure, whatever,” he said. “Do you think this is that gift the old lady was talking about?”

“Hm,” you said. “You think she was serious about that?”

“It’s as good a guess as any. Back then, I figured she was full of bullshit, but what if she actually does have some kind of supernatural powers?” he said.

“Then this is all your fault!” you said.

“What?” he said.

“You heard me. Why’d you have to be such an asshole to her, huh? Like always. Jeez. You can’t help but be a jerk and fuck things up, can you?” you said. “Well, we’re going to be late for school if we don’t get a move on, so I guess the only option we have is getting through the day and then going to visit her after classes.”

“I don’t — do you really think so?” he said.

“Obviously? She’s the biggest suspect at the moment, but I’d really prefer if we didn’t miss school. What with board exams and all coming up…” you said.

“Never mind,” he said. “Anyways, why do you care? It’s not like you do anything but draw in class.”

“How’d you know that?” you said. “Are you some kind of stalker or something?”

“I’m not a stalker. I just…pay attention to people,” he said.

“Sure,” you said. “And you put little heart emoticons after everyone’s contact names, too. How’d you even get my number?”

“You saw that?” he said.

“How do you think I called you?” you said.

“Oh,” he said. “We were in a class group chat together in seventh grade.”

Now that he mentioned it, you did recall something along those lines, although of course, you had not saved his number in return. You hadn’t seen a need to — out of everyone in that class, you would’ve texted him for help last.

“Okay,” you said. “Bye.”

You hung up immediately, finding the entire discussion to be unproductive, and then you sighed. It seemed that, for now, you were stuck as Karasu; massaging your sore jaw, you gave up on procrastination and began to get dressed for the day.

Somehow, you were able to get through it with minimal embarrassment, and you even shaped his hair into the style he preferred, which you were particularly proud of, given how absurd it was. You could only hope he was showing your own body the same kindness you were reluctantly giving his.

“Good morning, Tabito,” his mother said absently when you strolled into the kitchen.

“Morning, Mrs. — Mom!” you said. “Mom. Good morning.”

It would be a little strange if Karasu began referring to his own mother as Mrs. Karasu. You had to keep in mind that to everyone else, you were no longer Y/N L/N, and if you didn’t want them all to treat you like you were insane, you had to play the part of Tabito Karasu in a convincing manner.

“Time for breakfast?” she said. You nodded.

“Do we have any cereal?” you said. She furrowed her brow at you.

“Cereal? You made us throw it all away because it was too sugary, remember? Your energy bars are in the pantry, though, and there’s apples in the fridge if you want,” she said.

Your eye twitched. A health freak, really? His body and soccer career were impressive, but did both really take so much maintenance that he restricted himself from even cereal?

“Thanks,” you said, rifling through the pantry, picking out a random bar and an apple to snack on as you walked to school. “See you later!”

“See you,” Mrs. Karasu said, not even looking up from the laptop she was working at. You frowned, used to your own mother, who always responded with as much energy as you gave her. Brushing it off as the relationship she and her son must’ve had, you bit into your apple and vowed not to think about it further.

The energy bar was absolutely disgusting; you weren’t sure how Karasu could stand to eat them on a daily basis. It was some German brand with an umlaut in the name, and it tasted like cardboard coated in glue. You were barely able to force it down your throat, but you knew a mere apple wouldn’t last you until lunch, so you had no other choice. Still, it put you in a foul mood and set the tone for the day, which, considering what tone had already been created by your migration into Karasu’s body, was not a good thing.

“Karasu! Hey, Karasu, wait up!” You had no idea what his name was, but as soon as you walked into the school building, a boy was shouting out after you, panting as he sprinted to catch up. From your vague knowledge, he was one of Karasu’s friends and soccer teammates, though not one he was particularly close with. “You deaf or something, man? I’ve been trying to get you to slow down for ages! What’s the rush?”

“Rush?” you said.

“Why’re you walking so fast? First period doesn’t start for another ten minutes,” he said.

“Sorry,” you said. There had been no intention behind your pace, actually. It was just that you were unused to the length of Karasu’s stride and so found yourself going along at a far greater clip than you meant to. “I didn’t realize.”

“Okay, Captain,” he said. “I get it. Some of us are just average guys, you know, so let’s keep it nice and easy, alright?”

“Yup,” you said. His friend squinted at you.

“You’re being oddly nice today,” he said. “I don’t like it one bit.”

“We’ve been speaking for all of two minutes, how can you tell that already?” you said. His friend cocked his head at you before elbowing you in the side. You blinked at him. He blinked back, and then he punched you in the arm. You barely even felt it, so you didn’t react, which only caused his friend to wail.

“See? What are you plotting? You only act this nice when you’re planning to be really mean later! What did I do to you? Is it because I went and studied with L/N’s friends? I’m sorry! Just hit me, please, and let’s get it over with!” he said.

“Why would I care if you studied with my — with L/N’s friends?” you said. “And I’m not hitting you, dude, calm down.”

“You’re always calling them mediocre,” he said. “Though I guess you call everyone mediocre, so that’s not really saying much.”

“Of course,” you said dully, unconvincingly. “Mediocre. That is what I think of them. Absolutely.”

His friend shrugged. “They’re not that bad, though, in all honesty. You shouldn’t be so hard on them just because you wish L/N was friends with you instead. She doesn’t even like you, bro. You should just give up.”

Your mind went blank at this. “I wish that who was what with who now?”

“Oh, are we back in the denial stage? My bad,” his friend said.

Karasu wanting to be friends with you? It was a laughable idea. He was the one who had left first. Your dislike was only a symptom of that, of the act which he had never explained nor apologized for, and he knew that as well as you did. He was popular, too, even more popular than you were — which was saying something — so what use would he have in befriending you? This boy was delusional. Or maybe there was another Y/N L/N at the school. You doubted it, but wasn’t it technically a possibility? At any rate, it was more plausible than Karasu harboring any kind of affection for you.

When you entered your first period classroom, you almost made the mistake of walking to your normal desk. In fact, you were about halfway there when you realized that your desk partner was giving you an odd look, her face souring with every step you took. For a moment, you considering asking her what was wrong, since the two of you usually got along well, but then you remembered — you were Karasu at the moment, and though you had never told her in your own body how much you detested him or why, she had picked up on it through the course of the semester.

Turning on your heel, you made a beeline for Karasu’s normal seat. His partner was unfamiliar to you, but you couldn’t recall Karasu ever talking much to him, so it probably didn’t matter much that you had no idea who he was.

“’Sup, Karasu,” his partner said.

“’Sup,” you said, omitting his name and hoping he didn’t find it strange. Thankfully, his partner only nodded at you before returning to his homework, which he was completing in the seconds before the bell, for some reason. You rifled through Karasu’s bag and pulled out his own paper, which was perfectly done, missing all of the adornments which often littered your assignments. You believed that this week, you had drawn a little cat playing with a ball of yarn next to your answers. You were sure it would delight your teacher immensely, at least based on her reactions to the previous doodles you had included, though you also had a sense Karasu would judge you when he saw.

The class passed by even slower than it usually did. If you started drawing to while away the time, you’d make your desk partner suspicious, so you had nothing to waste your energy with, bar watching the minute hand creeping along against the clock.

After all, Karasu was an attentive person, raising his hand in class to answer every question the teacher asked, the first to know how to solve a problem and the first to explain it upon prompting. It was another one of those things that made him so well-liked; despite his brusqueness, he really was willing to help people out if they needed it, in his own insolent way.

It was unnerving. When did you learn so much about Karasu? You thought you had been ignoring him quite successfully. You could hardly even tolerate him, so why were you so knowledgeable on the kind of person he was, his routines and friends and quirks? Was it an old habit that, even now, you could not quite put out of your mind? A remnant of that former friendship? You had not understood until you took on this new role how much of him you were still familiar with, how much of him was still the same as you had remembered.

At lunch, you headed over to the table where Karasu’s friend group was waiting, giving your own friends a mournful glance as you did so. Karasu was sitting in your normal spot, listening to your best friend as she ranted about something. There was a small frown on his — your? — face, as if she was saying something that he didn’t agree with but was too scared to speak up against.

“Bro, enough with the longing stares. This shit is embarrassing.” You were shocked out of your trance by someone socking you in the abdomen. Doubling over with a cough, you glared at Karasu’s best friend, wondering why every one of his relationships was so violent.

“What was that for?” you said, shoving your shoulder into him so that he would move over. He did so willingly, albeit not without a snicker as you set your lunch down beside him.

“Just saying,” he said. “Now that we know what your deal is, you can hardly expect us not to mention it.”

“My deal?” you said.

“Told you he’s back in the denial phase! As if we didn’t just have an hour long confessional video call last night,” Karasu’s teammate from earlier said.

“Huh?” you said. Karasu hadn’t mentioned anything about an ‘hour long confessional video call’ when you had been discussing what you had done the night before the body switch. Actually, he hadn’t mentioned anything at all. You had brought up your headache before he had gotten the chance, and then the two of you had jumped topics to the old lady, so he hadn’t needed to.

“You don’t remember?” his best friend said, clearing his throat and lowering his voice in what you were sure was meant to be an impression of Karasu’s. “I miss Y/N so much. Sooooooo much. Sosososososo much.”

He burst into laughter, high-fiving their teammate. You gave them an unimpressed look, which only made the duo laugh harder. The rest of the table seemed similarly amused, though they had the dignity to not giggle about it aloud.

“It wasn’t like that, exactly,” a different one of Karasu’s teammates said, taking pity on you. “But I definitely recall you going through a crisis about how you wished you could be friends with her again, and how you secretly miss her and whatnot.”

“You mentioned some freaky lady, too,” his best friend said. “That’s what prompted you to spill your guts to us, wasn’t it? She started going on about how she knew your past, and then L/N said she didn’t like you and didn’t want to spend even a minute more with you, which made you so depressed that you yelled at the old lady and L/N.”

“Um, I don’t think I yelled at Y/N — L/N,” you said. As far as you could recall, he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary to you, though perhaps it was just that you were used to him being caustic and had brushed it off.

“What’s with you?” his best friend said. “Just yesterday, you were throwing a fit about how you’d never be able to fix things with her, and now you’re all nonchalant about it? You need to see a doctor.”

“Why would I even want to fix things with her?” you said. “We’ve not liked one another for a while.”

His friends all exchanged looks before his best friend, apparently the designated spokesperson, shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Are you feeling alright?” he said.

You could not answer this truthfully. Of course, you were, at the moment, feeling the furthest thing from alright, but how could you say that to them? Oh, actually, I feel shitty, mostly because I’m currently stuck in someone else’s body. Wait, did I forget to mention that? Well, surprise, I’m Y/N L/N! Not Tabito Karasu. By the way, am I supposed to aim when I take a piss, or is this like a freestyle thing? They would have you hauled off before you could say ‘creepy old bat with possible witch powers.’

“I’m fine,” you said.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Did you, uh, get into your dad’s liquor cabinet last night by any chance?”

“Not that I know of,” you said, which was as sincere as you could get. Whether Karasu was an underage drinker or not was none of your business, but for what it was worth, you didn’t think that you were hungover at the moment, so either he complied with the law and stayed sober, or he handled his alcohol better than he probably ought to at this age.

“Right, then,” he said. “Just let us know if anything changes and you need to skip practice or something.”

Practice? There was no way you could go to practice. Even if you were piloting Karasu’s well-conditioned body, you had nothing resembling his soccer know-how or field awareness. You’d fail miserably if you had to attend, and what then? He’d get kicked off of the team and be denounced as a fraud, maybe, and it’d be your fault. It was a worst-case scenario, but it was still a scenario, and one you didn’t want to consider further.

“You know, I do feel a bit queasy. Maybe you guys are right,” you said. “I think I’m off today.”

“For you to be admitting that aloud means the problem is worse than we realized,” one of his friends said.

“We’ll let the coach know you had to go home sick,” his best friend assured you. “Don’t worry about it. You haven’t missed a practice yet, so he won’t be mad.”

“That’s right! Rest up, Captain. We need you at your best for our game this weekend,” another teammate said.

They were kind of sweet when they weren’t pummeling one another, you thought. It wasn’t in the warm, affectionate, supportive way of your friends, but they showed their caring in whatever manner they could. You didn’t prefer it, but you could see how someone would.

It wouldn’t have seemed like a role reversal to anyone else, but you alone recognized it for what it was. Waiting in the spot that Karasu had been yesterday, you made designs in the dirt with the toe of your left sneaker, periodically glancing at his phone for the time.

“You waited for me!” he said.

“Ahh!” you said, jumping backwards, your back smacking against the wall. Being this close to your body, hearing your voice and knowing it wasn’t coming from you, was perturbing, and you narrowed your eyes, leaning forward and inspecting it. “Hey. Looks like you didn’t fuck things up too terribly. My hair is its original color, and I’m not breaking out anywhere, so it’s a success story in the end.”

“What about you? D’you go around doing dumb bullshit to make me seem like an awful person?” he said. Though it sounded like you, the words were so utterly Karasu that it was obvious he was the one speaking.

“Why would I do that?” you said.

“Dunno,” he said. “Apparently you hate me more than I realized.”

“And that came as a surprise?” you said.

“Kind of,” he said as you began walking towards the part of town where you had met the old lady. “I thought you were just indifferent to me. Didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Do you even know why?” you said. “Or do you just think I’m mediocre and unreasonable and annoying?”

He looked at the ground instead of at you. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You don’t,” you said. “You went and you made your new friends and that was that.”

“Wait, what?” he said in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“What am I talking about? What are you talking about? I’m referring to why I don’t like you, of course,” you said.

“Isn’t it because I’m not good enough?” he said. Before you could stop yourself, you were scoffing at him. His shoulders slumped.

“Are you fishing for compliments? Save it, jerk. You haven’t changed a bit,” you said.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “That’s the reason, right? You’re Y/N L/N. You draw all over your homework and are still the teacher’s favorite, you’re good at school without even trying, and you only talk to people you approve of.”

“What about you?” you snapped. “You think I’m perfect? You’re the captain of your fancy-ass soccer team, everyone at school loves you, you’re smart and talented and good-looking, and you know it! You walk around like you think you’re better than everyone — like you think you’re better than me! You told your entire group how you wished you could be friends with me, right? We were friends! Until you decided that, for some reason, we couldn’t be.”

“I didn’t decide that,” he said. “You stopped talking to me.”

“What did you expect, that I’d just keep hanging around someone so horrible?” you said. “You completely ignored me once we started school. I tried to talk to you, to acknowledge you, but you just acted like you had no idea who I was. Why would I ever, ever be friends with someone like that?”

“That’s why?” he said. “You’re mad about how I acted when I was six? That’s a little immature, don’t you think? We’re obviously not in grade school anymore. I mean, it’s a little unwarranted for you to be holding a grudge for this long.”

“You were my only friend back then,” you said. “You were my only friend, and you left me alone. I don’t want anything to do with you. You were a pain as a child and you’re a pain now.”

“A pain?” he said. “You wanna talk about being a pain? You decided you didn’t like someone when you were a kid, and you’ve refused to change your mind about them in the years since. It’s not like I haven’t tried! Do you think your mother was incapable of driving over and grabbing her purse? Do you think mine suddenly forgets the route to your house every time she leaves something there? I want to see you. I make up excuses to be with you, but you’re so damn hostile that it doesn’t matter! What am I supposed to say? Hey, Y/N, I really like you. I think you’re cool. I wish that things were as effortless for me as they are for you. And that side-eye of yours? Totally appealing.”

“Because appealing to you is my life goal,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“I don’t think appealing to anyone is in your playbook,” he said. “You just do what you want, and it works out somehow.”

“As opposed to you?” you said. “Whether it’s an innate skill or an earned talent, at least I don’t have a stick up my ass about it. I would ask you if it’s uncomfortable, but considering I’m in your body right now, I can answer that it’s not, really, which is impressive, considering how big it must be. Got some preferences you want to share?”

“Seriously?” he said. “You’re pulling out that kind of joke now?”

“Just trying to method act,” you said. “Since I’m you and all. It’s your modus operandi, isn’t it? You can’t help but criticize people, even when they’ve done nothing wrong. Even when you’re the one who's done something wrong. You’d rather blame me than apologize, but despite what you say, it doesn’t matter how long ago it happened. It hurt my feelings. The fact that you don’t recognize that is all the proof I need that you’re just as self-centered now as you were back then. Forget about trying to be friends with me. You’re right: I only talk to people I approve of, and you’re not one of them. The second we’re back in our original bodies, I want you to leave me the hell alone.”

Karasu’s body’s superior athleticism allowed you to put enough distance between you two that you could clear your mind. This was the first time that either of you had had anything resembling a proper conversation since you were kids, and it had not exactly gone the way you had wanted it to.

What had you wanted? You weren’t sure. Maybe for him to apologize. Grovel and tell you that he was sorry, that he hadn’t meant any of it, that he had an explanation for why he had treated you like a stranger instead of a friend, some magical clarification that would make everything better again.

Somehow, he caught up to you. You must’ve slowed down as you were thinking, the speed of your mind and the length of your stride not quite correlating. He was huffing, though, which did bring you some measure of gratification — which vanished when you remembered that it was your body which was struggling in comparison to his and not the other way around.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Really, I am. I didn’t want to hurt you. I know that I did, but it wasn’t — it wasn’t my intention. It just happened, and then before I knew it, it was too late for me to stop things from blowing up. And once they did, I avoided the mess I had made as best as I could, because I was too afraid of facing your distaste to do anything to remediate it. I thought it would be worse if I brought it up and you still kept avoiding me than if I never made an attempt at all.”

“Why’d you even do it in the first place?” you said.

“You want an explanation?” he said. You nodded. He shrugged. “I’m sorry. There really isn’t one. Sometimes it’s just like that. I was dumb, and when the other boys in class told me it was lame to be friends with girls, I believed them. I know it’s not right, but that’s really all there was to it.”

“Oh,” you said.

“Expecting fairness from a six year old is a little much, don’t you think?” he said, not unkindly. “I should’ve apologized earlier, I would’ve, but I didn’t realize that that was the reason you spurned me at all. I thought it was because, well, I mean…you’re so you. You’re amazing, and now that I’ve lived your life, that fact is only all the more evident to me. You’re so wonderful, Y/N, and I’m just the mediocre Tabito Karasu. It was only natural that you left me behind. I’ve spent this entire time trying to become someone you’d look at again, but no matter how much effort I put forth, it was never enough. You never did.”

You both had wanted the same thing. For all those many years you had run from one another, you and he had only ever wanted to be with each other. But you had thought Karasu had abandoned you, and he had thought you were too good for him, and so you both had denied yourselves that very thing, which had always been within your grasp, if only one of you had made a genuine effort to reach out and take it.

Stopping, you turned to face him. Squeezing your eyes shut — it was a little awkward, after all, gazing into your own eyes when you were being so vulnerable — you extended your pinky finger out to him, waiting for him to interlock his with yours, like you had when you were children.

“Let’s be together again,” you said, the moment he did so. “For good this time.”

“For good,” he agreed. A cold, slimy sensation slithered down your back, and you opened your eyes with a shiver, only to find yourself looking up at Karasu’s face, his actual face, not the one he had borrowed from you. His lashes fluttered open, and when he noticed you standing in front of him, back in possession of your own body, his eyebrows drew together in confusion before his expression cleared with understanding.

Not even bothering to detangle your pinkies, he interlaced the rest of his fingers with yours. Then, for the first time in years, he gave you one of his sweet, genuine, lopsided grins.

“What the hell? I could’ve sworn this was where she was!” Karasu said, pointing at the storefront where you had encountered the old lady. Somehow, miraculously, it had vanished, replaced with a bustling restaurant that seemed to have been there forever.

“How’d they set up a new restaurant in the span of a day?” you wondered. “That wasn’t there before, I’m sure of it.”

“I was going to give that woman a piece of my mind,” he whined.

“Watch your mouth, baby crow,” you said. “Who knows? Next time you yell at her, she might turn you into one.”

“Would you kiss me and turn me back into a prince if she did?” he said, puckering his lips at you.

“Prince, my ass. You’re still on thin ice, so don’t push it,” you said.

“Alright,” he said amenably. “You know what? Maybe it’s for the best that she’s gone. I think she’s one of those people that you’re only meant to meet once in your life.”

“Very wise,” you said. “The time you spent in my body must’ve had a positive effect on your mentality.”

“Ha, ha,” he said. “Hilarious. C’mon, you have to hang out with me today. You’re the reason I’m missing practice, so entertain me.”

“I guess I don’t have that much homework to do, so I don’t mind,” you said. “Okay. Your place or mine?”

“You pick,” he said. “Though we are over halfway to my house already. And my cat does miss you. Just saying.”

“Convincing argument,” you said. “Lead the way.”

As the two of you turned in the direction of Karasu’s house, your conversation flowing as easily as if you had never not been friends in the first place, the owner of the restaurant ducked out to flip the sign from open to closed.

“Oh, are you shutting down for the day already?” a young man said, frowning at her. The old lady only smiled at him mysteriously.

“Once my work’s done, it’s done,” she said. “Why would I stay open longer than that?”

The man gave her an odd look before wandering off, perhaps aware that arguing with the eccentric old lady would be more trouble than it was worth. The old lady paid him no heed, folding up a stray menu and holding it to her heart as she watched you and Karasu disappear into the distance, chuckling self-indulgently all the while.

Welcome to Freaky Friday! Ask your server about our special — critics call it life changing!

#karasu x reader #karasu x y/n #karasu x you #karasu tabito #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #freaky friday au #freaky friday fic #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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s-4pphics · 1 year ago

Text

click!: in frame. 1 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you crave redemption more than love. [idk au]

WORD COUNT: 7.7k

WARNINGS: professionalphotographer!ellie, strugglingartist!oc who’s black, ANGST!!, loss and unhealthy grieving, papa issues, verbally abusive parent(PLEASE TREAD LIGHTLY), depictions of therapy and counseling, light discussion of anger management, brief mention of alcohol, bullying, a lil fluff, SMUT!! YIPPEE MDNI, bondage, squirting, bathroom sex, eating out no taqueria, ellie getting sloppy from a hot milf that’s it

You look like your mom.

Your father’s admiring whisper yanks you out of the hazy turbulence in your mind. You shovel a handful of caramel popcorn in your mouth. You don’t dare look at him.

Daughter things, I guess. Your dad simply hums. Silence simmers between the two of you. It’s not comforting. Not like it should be. A bomb is coming.

Honey, I… I love you. Your father sounds like he's crying and it pauses your aggressive chewing. You finally turn to face him and your fingers twitch when you see his globby tears. They’re heavy as he releases his regrets in silence, just like he always does during this time of year.

Me, too, dad.

You’re not sure if you’re lying or not. Some things are impossible to forget, you suppose.

You eat more popcorn with a permanently damaged heart.

FOUR YEARS LATER

FIRST DAY WITH DOCTOR BROWN.

“Some people believe that any form of assistance is… insulting. Whether it be to them as people or… specific traits that they hold that others may find unfamiliar or unsettling. I’m not here to judge or anything of that nature. Just here to help you figure out why specific aspects of your life affect you the way they do.”

Your arms cross over your chest. Dr. Brown realizes you’re not taking the bait, so she attempts to get you more comfortable. “I think icebreakers could help ease some of the tension. So… What’s your favorit— “

“My dad died last year.”

Your statement makes her freeze, her smile melting off her face, eyes shifting across her face. She adjusts some papers on her clipboard and clicks her pen. “Alright, hun,” Her gentle tone makes your stomach twist. “Let’s talk about it. What was the relationship with your dad like?” You simply shrug.

Dr. Brown nods and tries again. “Were you and him close? Your notes say you and your mother were inseparable, just like me and mine.”

Your nails sink into your cuticles and tears burn in your eyes, “I… I wanted to be. Close.” You whisper. “He wasn’t around like that, though.”

She scribbles and solemnly nods, “Did he work often?” Your head bobs and droplets stream down your cheeks.

“I didn’t think I’d care that he died… He was never around growing up, so… like, whatever.” You grumble lamely.

“What did losing him feel like?”

The end of your mouth curls downward, the familiar searing you’ve grown to loathe, “Like… the world was burnin’.”

“Elaborate.” She pries softly.

Another bounce from your shoulders. You readjust in your seat. “I wasn’t even sad. Just…” You trail off, fingers twitching under your arm.

“Angry. I was angry all the time.” You rush out quietly, face burning with shame. “Just like he was.” You pause when your breath shakes, “I wish I got some of my mom’s traits. My dad’n I are just alike.” You fiddle with the sleeves of your sweater.

“… You’re not like him— “

“I am— “

“You’re not. You’re trying to put in effort to be better for the future. Could he have said the same?” She’s stern when she speaks.

You’re stumped. You wipe your tears harshly. For the first time, you're at a loss for words.

WEEK TWO WITH DOCTOR BROWN.

“Think about the first time you saw your dad lash out. You can elaborate on how you felt, how you reacted, how your environment changed… Anything you feel comfortable sharing.” Your eyes stay glued to your therapist’s couch as you recall the day. Every detail and foul verbiage he directed towards your mother resurfaces and falls at your sock-covered feet.

It was the morning of your first day of second grade. Your mother spent the entire morning hot-combing your hair, bumping your ends, littering your locks that were bound to recoil in seconds in bobbles and clips. She could tell by your expression that you didn’t like it, but she completed your bright pink outfit with it’s not for you, it’s for me! Sit still! She never failed to live vicariously through you; Every childhood moment she couldn’t live out was now yours.

Your father wasn’t around much. He was a truck-driver, on a constant voyage to wherever he was instructed to go, hundreds to thousands of miles away from solace for months — sometimes years at a time. He missed birthdays, holidays, family reunions; There was always a missing space for him somewhere in your childhood home, whether it be his customized keychain that he forgot, shoes he didn’t pack, a hug he didn’t give. Proof of him was always scattered around somewhere, but he was a shadow. A blank memory.

So, why were your cartoons interrupted by his booming voice in the kitchen?

You remember turning the television down, only by a couple digits, your ears honing in on every word he screamed at your mother. You were so confused. Half of those words you’d never heard before. Why was he so mad this early in the morning?

You knew it was serious when your mother retaliated just as loudly, the cracks and shrieks from her belts sounding alarms in your brain. Your mom’s in trouble! Help her! But how could you? You were defenseless against him. It felt like the day flew by as their aggression intensified, curses nearly shattering the glass of your backyard door before everything went quiet.

But still, your feet carried you to peek behind the wall that separated the living room from the kitchen. Your attempts at being discreet were pointless, though. When you saw your mother pinned up against the counter by your father, tears streaming down her face as he spat with every whisper onto her cheek, you gasped. Your memory is washy after that, but you remember your mother wiping her tears and slapping that comforting grin on her face. You wish you didn’t remember how broken she sounded when she said alright, baby! Ready for school? Don’t wanna be late!

You suffered through social studies, language arts, and math. Your mind wasn’t where it should’ve been; You couldn’t shake the fact that your mother could be hurt and she had no one to tell. You just prayed to yourself as your teacher spoke, hoping that your mom would be on time to pick you up at the end of the day.

Your eyes travel over the teal incisions of thread on your therapist’s seat. You’re still not used to the sound of your own voice. “It’s… it’s a funny story…” You sound so weak. You retell what you can, all while following the tip of your therapist’s scribbling pen.

Why did it have to be green? Why are the clicks deafening?

“Ellie, holy fucking — shit, these look fucking incredible!” Yuki whispers, expression impressed as she snoops over the auburn-haired girl’s shoulder, inspecting the aerial shots she’d taken a few hours ago. Editing is a bitch. “I don’t know how you do it. You’re…”

“A genius, I know,” Ellie says dryly, a soft grin hidden behind the hand that holds her head up. It’s almost eleven. “M’almost done— “

“Nope! Not happening!” Another voice exclaims from the black lounge chair on the opposite side of the room. “You’re not the one that has to lock up every goddamn night! I ain’t stayin’ here ‘til two again! You got two seconds to finish up before I drag you up outta here.”

Yuki giggles at Saliyah’s scolding, and Ellie sighs. The pictures look almost perfect. Almost. They’re not there yet! All she needs is an hour… or three—

“What did I say! —“

“Alright, alright, fuck.” Ellie shakes her head before closing all her tabs, pulling her flash drive out of the PC before shutting it down. She stands from her rolling chair and snags her blazer from over the back of it, throwing it over her shoulders and grabbing her work bag, camera already securely inside. She shoves the drive in a random pocket before stretching.

The two girls already have all of their belongings in hand, more than ready to clock the fuck out. Yuki eyes her slyly, sarcasm dripping from her tone, “Oh, wooow, she’s actually taking orders, now? Listening to instructions for the first time? —“

“Can you stop.” Ellie mutters as she follows the girls descending the stairs. “No!” They both say in unison. Ellie smiles. Does she really stay out that often? There’s no way she’s that stubborn.

All three girls crack jokes as they vacant the building, ensuring all the lights and equipment are shut off and prepped for tomorrow. It’s an early day.

“Alright, bitches!” Yuki screams into the darkness, bag swinging as her heels click-clack on the pavement. “I want you bright and bushy-tailed tomorrow! Busy day! No time to fuck arou— “

Saliyah yawns, eyes droopy, “Girl… fuck you.” Ellie cackles and rubs her tired eyes. She can’t wait to get these six hours in. And see her baby. Saliyah wraps her arms around Ellie’s neck, muttering see you tomorrow, stinker into her neck. Ellie hums and holds her before watching her get into her vehicle.

Ellie does the same after both girls leave the parking lot, her head falling back onto the headrest, eyes shutting in exhaustion. Today was insane… Fuck, it was incredible. She's always accepted opportunities to take photos in nature. Landscapes are her prestige, but when she got the offer to take aerial shots of the ocean, she couldn’t say no. Just when she thought she’d never get on an aircraft out of fear…

The shots were mystical, the monsoon winds carrying the waves in all directions as the foams ripple, a scene straight out of her dreams. The second she got off the helicopter, she got to editing. Staying in late to perfect her captures has become a terrible habit, but what can she say? She loves her job. Thank God her coworkers are as sweet as cherry pie and support her bad habit. Besides tonight, apparently.

Days like this keep Ellie humbled… Most times. She deserves to boast every once in a while. She often thinks back on her college days, how out of touch chances like these seemed. The number of times she was brushed off by respected professionals because she lacked “necessary resources” was astronomical. But look at her now. She had everything she could ever want: a career she’s passionate about, healthy friendships, and the means to take care of her father.

Well… she has most things.

She sighs and starts her vehicle, the diamonds in her Rolex sparkling under the street lights beaming in from the window. The streets are calm. Not normally bustling like they would on a regular day. The clouds are coming in; Rain is due. She’s so excited.

It’s a calm drive back to her small home. She pulls into the driveway and exits with all her supplies, unlocking and entering her place of peace.

Meow! Meow!

Ellie clicks her tongue at Pickle, “Hiii, mama. I’m home.” She drops her bag on the small couch near the front door, bending down to pick her up. “You’re heavy, fuck.” The baby purrs and nuzzles into her neck as they enter the kitchen. She sets her down on the counter and opens the fridge for water. There’s soft scuffling from behind her as she sips.

Ellie turns to see Pickle playing with a pen, rolling it across granite. She swallows her last gulp before sighing, picking up the utensil, the one memory she kept of you. Your colorful fucking custom ballpoint pen. Pickle nibbles her fingers, trying to snatch it back to play with, but Ellie clicks it over and over.

“Miss her? Yeah?” She whispers. Pickle licks her index. Ellie will never admit it, but she thinks about you whenever she sees her baby. Yours, too.

She hopes you’re alright.

“You said that going to his funeral was different from your mom’s. Do you mind elaborating?”

You shrug and scoff. “Shouldn’t everybody feel sad when they parents die?” Dr. Brown mimics you, “Not at all. Every reaction to loss is different and not all reactions are symmetrical.”

“I was angry.” Your statement is blunt and abrasive.

“Expound.”

“I wanted to dig him up and spit on him my damn self.” You say, sharp as razor blades. Brown hums, unfazed by your sudden aggression; What the hell do therapists write on those clipboards? “I just… Seein’ all these fuckers I didn’t know talk about how fuckin’… great he was and how missed he’ll be was fuckin’ infuriating. They don’t know shit about that man or the shit he’s done.”

Sympathy washes over Dr. Brown’s pupils. “See, your temper is the reason you’re here. You’re not obligated to forgive anybody that wronged you, but…” She’s simultaneously stern and empathic, “You do not get to use those emotions to inflict negativity onto the people around you. You’re perpetuating the same harm you wanted to avoid in the first place.”

You instantly know what she’s referring to and guilt radiates all the way down to your toes. Amaya… Oh, you miss her. Another good person caught in your violent crossfire. Your last conversation was vile, and you hate yourself every day for the things you said to the only person who unconditionally cared about your wellbeing. Tears brew in your ducts, but you blink them away.

“I didn’t… know what to do…” You didn’t, so you screamed and shouted and told her to never call your fucking phone again. The last thing you berated was the final nail in the coffin for your relationship. You left me, you’d said over and over until the line went dead. You left me alone! I fucking needed you!

“No one has the answers for these types of situations. Why we react the way that we do to traumatic events will always be a mystery.” She adjusts in her chair, leg crossing over the other. “What I do know is that… you’re fighting grief. You’re choosing not to experience it, and it’s making you lash out on people who don’t deserve it.”

But how does one grieve the person that made their life… unlivable? Through rage. Rage in its purest form: unfiltered, erratic, sizzling. It’s unrelenting and unforgiving and holds no bounds, prepared to be released at any moment, no matter who’s present. Your father’s home has seen it all at this point: glass shattering on walls, screaming into the closet where all his clothes hang, punching the pillow he slept on every night.

Everything was exactly where your father left it, and instead of crying, you relinquished hell on the home he left in your name. You’re still surprised it wasn’t engulfed in flames after his funeral.

“I just…” Harsh sniffles from you, desperately wiping your tears with damp hoodie sleeves, “I don’t know what to do. Nothing feels… real anymore.”

“You’re real, baby.” This is the most delicate Dr. Brown has ever sounded, tone hushed. “Your feelings are real, your pain is real, but so is everyone else’s. You have to remember that.”

You’re listening so intently, “What I'd suggest…” You already know what she’s going to say, and you’re petrified. You sag into your seat.

You owe those two girls an apology.

Flashes of green race across your memory. The meadows are back, and they’re haunting.

“Three.” You whisper.

“Hm?”

“I owe…” A heavy exhale. “Three girls an apology.”

OCTOBER, 2013

Ellie’s officially fifteen. She’d give anything to be home right now.

She was so happy before she left that morning. Her dad woke her up with a heaping stack of iced chocolate chip pancakes that were the size of her head and happy birthday candles. Laughter echoed through their household, following as they cascaded down the stairs to blast music. Neighbors be damned. Everything was perfect. Up until she was dressed and ready and in the car.

Ellie’s dad held her hand the entire drive. He didn’t comment on her white knuckles as she gripped his digits when he kissed the back of her hand. It took her a second to exit the car when they arrived, so he said the usual. You got this, kiddo. The extra encouragement provided a boost, for sure. She was able to get to class on time.

Every time a wad of paper or a sharpened pencil hits the back of her head, she regrets not begging her dad to let her stay home. She’s grown used to the snickers, the shoulder chucks in the hallway, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

English concludes and she’s silently packing when her bag gets yanked out of her hand.

Missed you, stalker, A kid who Ellie doesn’t fucking remember snarks with a dark grin. Where’s that book you always have—

Tyler! The teacher’s voice booms, the class filling with oooh’s, That's enough. Give her stuff back now.

C’mooon, I can’t talk to my girlfriend? The remaining students burst into laughter and Ellie’s face burns, swallowing the lump that’s forming in her throat.

How about I call home? Tyler sucks his teeth at the threat while his friends laugh, dropping Ellie’s things on her desk with little care. She wastes no time to flee, shoving her earpods in and synching each trembling breath with the heavy percussion.

Her dad comes to pick her up an hour later.

A light tap on your shoulder tears your attention away from the lengthy equations on the board. Numbers and letters? Your fucking ass; Absolutely not!

You turn to Amaya, who’s smiling wide, shoving a folded note in your hand, rushing you to open it. Your brows crease as you face forward, unraveling the nest crevices and met with… hearts? Glitter? Pretty penmanship? No man wrote this, thank God.

Hi. You’re really pretty and nice. Would you like to sit with me during lunch?

Ceniyah

… Ceniyah? … Thee Cece? The person you’ve been obsessed with since middle school? What the fuck is going on!

You turn back to Amaya who’s giggling into her palm, catching glimpses of a shy Ceniyah, who keeps her head down, her beaded braids shielding her face. Your face burns and you jerk back forward. It’s not a fucking prank, what the fuck, what the fuck—

Class drags like a bitch, but the bell finally rings, and everyone hustles, shoving books in their bags, running to the cafeteria. You refuse to move, though. Your iron is low and the person you’re in love with asked you to crunch on celery sticks with her. Alone. You're bound to pass out the second you breathe wrong.

Hi.

You nearly fly out of your seat at her soft tone. She sounds like an angel. You’re going to die. You jump out of your chair and… take in the beauty that she is. She smells like heaven and her skin is perfect, not a blemish in sight. You hope she can’t see your acne scars… and she’s shorter than you. Are minors allowed to get married?

H-Hey, You hold up the pink piece of construction paper, I, uh, got your note… It’s beautiful. Her smile shines brighter than the sun. She shakes her head and the chains locked on her clips tinker like fairies.

Are you kiddin’ me! That mural you helped create was crazy. That was beautiful.

I love you.

Your eyes go wide. Did you say that? You don’t think you said that… Her smile turns confused and you realize you said that. You almost stab yourself with your pencil. I mean, like, I love how you appreciate art! Like, not m-many people… do that, and stuff…

She smirks and your heart squeezes with delight, And stuff? She inquires with an arched brow.

I’d appreciate it if you ladies headed to lunch so I can enjoy mine. Your teacher interrupts, And the next note that gets passed earns a detention.

A soft, floral-scented hand closes around your wrist, over your beaded bracelets and charms. You grab your bag with your last remaining strength and follow her like a puppy, her flowy skirt brushing against the bottoms of your jean-clad legs.

Best… day… ever.

PRESENT

Ellie needs to start doing finger stretches. Her hands are starting to hurt every time she clocks out.

She’s sitting at her desk, re-editing the infant photos she took earlier today. The twin girls from earlier were absolute angels, smiling and cooing up at the camera behind their matching pink pacifiers. She's never thought about having children… ever, but it might not be so bad—

Meow! Meow, meow! MeowMEOW—

… Nevermind. Kids are not for her. She can barely get this one to act right. The pictures are cute, though.

“What’s the matter, mama?” She coos down at a doe-eyed kit-kat. “Hungies?” Pickle jumps up and into her lap, staring at the bright screen that displays Ellie’s editing software. Ellie smirks down at her, “What, you wanna try?”

Pickle blinks up at her. No thoughts, just kibble.

She decides to save her progress on the photos and give her munchkin some love. The few minutes of head pats and runs are cut short when she gets a pop-up from her email. She pays it no mind at first, but she zeroes in on the subject with furrowed brows. It simply reads hi… an overdue apology. Ellie blinks a couple times before suspecting spam… But who the fuck names a spam email something that cryptic? What the fuck?

Ellie opens it… and her body goes numb as her eyes follow each word.

hi, ellie. i’m not sure how to start this off, but i hope it’s decent enough to sit through. i apologize in advance.

you probably don’t remember me, but we had statistics and used to live together in college. it was only for two months (i think, kind of a blur) but… yeah. i hope it semi-kinda rings a bell. hi again.

this is a very random time to reach out, and i understand any confusion, but i just wanted to apologize for everything. i was terrible to you. i'd never thought i'd become a judgmental person, but i did. i mocked you, i spoke behind your back, and probably ruined your last year of school, and i carry that regret with me everywhere i go. i’m not sure if i'll ever be able to express my remorse properly.

i’m trying to do better. i want to do better, but i can’t unless i express it.

you never have to talk to me again, and i understand if you don’t, but if you ever want to have a conversation with me, i’d be more than willing to come wherever you are to do so. or we can exchange numbers if it’s less of a hassle. i see how busy you are.

thank you if you took out any time to read this jumbled mess of thoughts. i’m very nervous. i hope you continue to live beautifully.

sincerely, someone trying to start fresh.

(p.s. i swear i'm not a stalker. you’re really popping on instagram. congratulations on everything.)

Ellie wastes no time and unplugs her entire PC, the screen going black. Her heart is racing and water surfaces above her pupils. Pickle purrs in her arms as she backs her rolling chair from under the desk and scurries into her bedroom. She sets the kitty down on her bed and clutches her chest. She forgets to count, forgets to breathe as detailed images of you scatter in her head.

You… what the fuck.

Ellie feels her hands start to shake, so she squeezes them in a fist as she paces. Her gasps are choked and she’s spiraling into panic; She can’t unsee your teary, brown eyes, how you tried to mask your sadness when she stated she was leaving. She was able to convince herself that she’d never see you again, and it took her so long to be okay with that. She’s grown to be okay without your presence.

The burnt trail she left behind has reignited again. She's sinking, drowning, just like she did years ago.

WEEK FIVE WITH DR. BROWN

“How do you feel now? Be honest.”

“… Still shitty… but alright, I guess.” You’re hoarse when you speak.

“Elaborate. What does alright mean for you?”

You pick at your fingers, “I’m not… I don’t wanna, like, kill myself… if that’s what you’re asking. The ball’s in their court now, I guess. I’m… I’m just alright.” Your shoulders bounce in a shrug.

“Has anyone answered?” Your head shakes in denial. “Don’t let that jeopardize your progress. However they react to you contacting them is not on you anymore. They either accept it or they don’t, and they’re valid in both options.”

Dr. Brown pauses and eyes you skeptically, “What?” You ask.

She shrugs, “One person isn’t on your making amends list.”

Your reply is immediate, “Probably for a reason.”

“Do you remember what you told me during our first meeting?”

Irritation boils under your skin. “I see where you’re taking this conversation and I’m not messin’ wit’ it… Respectfully. Next topic, please.”

Her hands raise in surrender, “Ay’, I’m not here to make you do diddly-squat. Merely providing perspective.”

“Right.”

“You did beat that girl to a pulp, though. I will say— “

“It’s what she deserved.” You say flatly. “She… humiliated me, and when her bitch left, she tried to come back to me. Get me pregnant— “

“Chile, I’m not tryna hear all that— “

You scoff and fall back in your seat, cushions and pillows molding with the curve of your spine. Dina bringing her happy ass to your father’s home after his death was one of the most infuriating experiences of your entire goddamn life. The second you opened the door, you were met with wildfire and permanently scarred. The least you could do is give her a fucking black eye.

What you did after that… you’ll never regret. Ever. She can blast you on Twitter all she wants; She’s dead to you.

Dr. Brown sips on her black tea with a pointed stare, “Yes, ma’am?” You say sarcastically.

“Watch that tone,” That look in her eye… she meant that. You’ll be quiet. “She was wrong for what she did, but you ain’t innocent.”

“I’m sorry, but I disagree. That one… she can choke. I don’t care.” Dr. Brown is disappointed by your answer, but frankly, you don’t care. That ship sailed and sank like the goddamn Titanic.

She seems disappointed in your answer, but she lets it go. “… Alright, then.”

On the brink of a heart attack perfectly explains how Ellie’s been feeling for the past week. The number of times she’s reread your fucking email is genuinely embarrassing, but she’s weighing her options: she either blocks you or accepts your offer. She's never been so conflicted in her life. She desperately needs a fucking break.

She never takes Saliyah and Yuki up on their offers to turn up on Friday nights, but her rampant emotions backed her into a corner… and now she’s tipsy on the dancefloor of some rinky-dink club. One night of release wouldn’t hurt.

Ellie really wishes she had a grilled cheese. They’re quite delicious… Probably not the thoughts she should be having with a hot older woman pushing back on her to fucking T-Pain, but she’s hungry! Liquor gives her the appetite of a fucking rhinosaurous, what can she say!

Saliyah and Yuki are handling business for her, though, giving the lady’s ass very encouraging slaps every time their hips connect. Ellie probably looks like a fucking dumbass as she pumps her fist in the air like an old man, but she can’t remember the last time she partied. Sue her!

It’s not until the woman stands upright, her sweaty, nearly bare back pressed against Ellie’s button-up, an arm coming up to loop around her neck, slightly shifting her bow tie that Ellie freezes, her fists clenching even tighter in the air. Her core gives a sharp squeeze when she feels sticky, glossed lips imprint on her throat. Her eyes bulge as she frantically searches for guidance from her friends, but they’re no fucking help, as usual! What the hell is miming sex and eating pussy going to do for her? She can barely breathe.

Her friends shoot her finger guns in encouragement before heading back to the bar. A tongue darts out to lap up her anxiety-induced sweat, and her body tremors, her hands untwisting to land on the girl’s jean covered hips for leverage. She feels teeth beam on her neck and her entire body flushes.

“You’re adorable!” Ellie hears her scream over the blasting music. Her tongue jumbles as she searches for a reply, but nothing leaves. She just drops her head onto the woman’s shoulder… and nearly flat lines when she eyes the cleavage sitting taut in her halter top. Her heart’s pulses synch with the ones from her clit when the woman giggles. Ellie’s ninety-five-point six percent sure that her nipples are poking through her shirt.

Her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek when the woman spins to face her, chest to chest, noses almost touching. The woman’s gaze drops to her neck, cunning as a fox as she undoes the first button of her shirt before unraveling the loop of her bow tie. She leans in, wafts of cinnamon flooding Ellie’s nostrils.

“Come to the bathroom with me?” Ellie’s nodding before the lady can conclude the purr in her ear. Her hand gets snagged and she’s being dragged through the hot crowd, all the way to the back of the club and shoved into the giant restroom. She finally takes in the goddess in front of her: dark hair, plump lips, pretty lashes. The wrinkles by her eyes and laugh lines are sending dopamine alarms in her brain.

Ellie receives one gentle kiss that makes her hips

grind forward before she hears, “You ever been tied up?” The raven-haired woman mumbles against her mouth. She whines, cheeks burning, “N-No,” she whispers.

Her perfect teeth shine, “You wanna be?”

Does she? “I — yeah, I guess?”

“Put your wrists together,” she hums and Ellie does. Her own bow tie gets looped and twisted around her nimble hands. The woman drops to her knees in front of the trembling girl, massaging her thighs over her jeans, planting kisses all over them, “You gotta name, honey?”

“Ellie… M’Ellie…” The woman’s hands creep up to unbutton her jeans, the soft hiss of the zipper, “What’s yours?” She only receives a shrug. “Whatever you want it to be.” Her jeans are yanked down seconds later, her… fucking Cartoon Network boxers drenched all the way through. The woman giggles and calls Ellie a cutie pie and her clit jumps.

Her manicured nails hook under the band of Ellie’s boxers, slowly inching them down until her soft, sticky hairs are on display and her boxers are around her knees, “Gonna let me eat this pussy out, angel?”

Ellie’s vision whites out. Only for a second, “Y-Yes, ma’am…”

Ellie’s sopping lips and pulled apart, her red, throbbing clit on display for the fucking witch in front of her. “You’re so fuckin’ cute. Anybody ever play with this pretty cunt?” Reality crashes down on her like a boulder as images of you touching her, kissing her flash before her eyes. Her jaw slacks as her words flurry.

“Just — fuck, just one time.”

“Yeah?” She coos, massaging gentle circles on her clit, “I'm your lucky second?” Ellie nods frantically. Her knees buckle when a sharp slap lands on her pussy, “Ffuck—“ The strokes on her clit are punishing, fast and non-stopping, the woman’s teeth gritted when she asks, “Steppin’ out on your girl, huh?”

Ellie moans around her denial while her cheeks glow, “N— agh, s-shit, wasn’t m’girl—“

“Yeah? She touch you like me?” The woman snickers, and Ellie burns red. She’s already so close and she can’t fucking think, “Think m’cummin’—“ Ellie slurs, her tongue thick in her mouth as her walls squeeze down, desperately trying to pull something, anything in as deep as possible.

“Can feel it. Tell me when.” But Ellie couldn’t. Her orgasm crashes into her like a fucking truck and her body falls forward, legs trembling as it wracks through her in harsh waves. The thighs that try to close are forced open, sharp stings radiating off her skin from the nails that pierce them. Strong suctions attack Ellie’s clit and she sobs, practically riding the woman’s face. Vibrations from satisfied hums stimulate her further, and she swears she’s going to pass out.

The pleasure builds all over again and her eyes squeeze shut, her hips thrusting forward and into the woman’s mouth. Her optics cycle into her skull when the space right below her clit gets stimulated just right and she rides that edge all over again, but this time, it’s stronger. The woman’s groaning in her pussy like she’s starving, and Ellie can barely garble her warning of another orgasm.

She squeaks when a gentle finger slides between her walls and she wishes it felt like yours did. Ellie’s bound hands entangle in the soft locks and pull, pushing her head any which way to guide her where she needs. She doesn’t register that she’s whining your name until the woman asks, “Tha’s your girl?” Right on her pussy, and Ellie tips.

She’s so loud when she explodes all over this stranger’s face, wetness coating her inner thighs, dripping all the way down to the bottoms locked around her ankles. You take refuge in the nasty side of her brain as she envisions you between her legs, you making her feel this good. Something about the way you touch her… She thinks it's impossible to replicate till this day.

When Ellie comes down, she falls against the door, relishing in the steady kitten licks on her twitching bud. One last gentle kiss, and the woman separates from the mess between Ellie’s thighs, chest wet with her juices.

“Good, honey?”

Ellie blinks like she’s risen from the dead, short hair clinging to her forehead. She shoots the woman two thumbs up and she chuckles, untying Ellie’s hands and helping her back onto her feet. The woman helps her redress after she cleans herself up, and Ellie’s nose twitches when her own stickiness latches onto her clothes. Her arms fall back to her sides when her belt gets secured.

She’s winded when she finally speaks, “Um… thanks…” How the fuck does Ellie say goodbye to someone who sucked her soul out?

“No problem…” The woman’s warm hands are soft as they push away damp strands from Ellie’s forehead. The freckled girl nearly purrs. Call her Pickle at this point.

Ellie steps away from the door so that the fucking seductress can exit. The woman backs away and unlocks the door with a gentle smile. “You should text her.”

Ellie’s stomach churns. “… What.”

“The girl that’s not your girl.” That’s the last thing she says before stepping out. Ellie’s heart plummets when her eyes lock with Saliyah’s, then Yuki’s. Her friends gawk at her disheveled appearance, lipstick stains littered all over her button up. Ellie’s not nearly as embarrassed as she should be; All she can think about is you.

“I think I’m in trouble.” Ellie states mindlessly.

“Doesn’t look like it.” Yuki snickers and pulls Ellie out of the bathroom. She hides her face when she’s met with the long line of people desperately needing to piss.

WEEK SEVEN WITH DOCTOR BROWN.

“You look bright.”

You feel brighter. Just a little bit. You’ve finally gotten your locs retwisted.

“Amaya texted me back.” Dr. Brown seems impressed at your statement, happy for you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“Yeah? What’d Ms. Producer say?”

“She, um… She wants to have dinner.”

“Oh? And what’d you say?”

“I said of course and then sobbed until I got here.” Dr. Brown chuckles, “When’s the big meal?”

“In two days. I got a hotel near where she’s at, so… Yeah. Probably won’t see me for a little.”

“Good for you, honey.” She says proudly, “Heard from any others?” Your head shakes. It’s not surprising that Abby and Ellie haven’t reached out to you. They don’t owe you any closure, even though it took you a while to accept your karma.

“Progress is progress, nonetheless.” Her tone reverts back to stern, “Remember… when you see that girl, don’t expect anything to come from it. She’s going out of her way to speak with you, not the other way around.”

Your head bows shamefully. You're incredibly nervous to see your best friend… if you deserve to call her that anymore. Anxiety isn’t foreign to you, but you’re anticipating the worst for your meeting. You’d give anything to mend your relationship with Amaya, but how’re you going to be able to overcome the guilt of abandoning her?

You can’t remember the last time you went to the campus coffee shop.

When Amaya sent you her new address in the middle of your old college city, you sobbed for half an hour. You’re not sure why considering the entirety of your graduating class is gone (hopefully in hell); It’s a mix of emotions coming back here. The baristas that used to work here have been replaced with new bushy-tailed freshmen with under eye bags. The coffee isn’t the best, but it’s oddly nostalgic. You feel fucking old just looking at their bright customer service smiles.

Your attention gets snagged away from your steaming cup when a sharp gasp echoes from behind you, nearly spilling your drink all over your flannel when someone calls your name. Anxiety spikes in your gut when you see…

Who is that?

“Oh my goodness! Sweetheart!” An older woman with gray hair and a cardigan places her hand on your shoulder and your eyes bulge out of your skull. “It’s so good to see you!”

What the fuck is going on? “You... You, too, uh… ma’am!” You put on the most believable smile you can. Is your memory really this fucking bad?

“Students don’t usually stick around after this long! Our major was pretty small, you know how it is.” Major… Students… Graphic design… Professor! Your memory clicks but her name doesn’t. What the fuck is this woman’s name! You feel like a cunt all over again!

“I’d love to catch up if you’re sticking around!”

“Um… yeah, of course.” Her smile is bright when she enters the line. Relief floods through you when she gets to the service counter and one of the baristas says good morning, Professor Meyers!

You silently thank the Lord.

“What brings you back to town, honey!” Professor Meyers asks excitedly.

“Um… just missin’ school, I guess.” You lie. Fuck this school.

She swallows her sip of tea before pausing, “Wow. First time I heard that. I didn’t see you at graduation!”

Your chest concaves and your face burns, “I, uh. I didn’t graduate. I dropped out.” Professor Meyers' expression drops, pity written all over her face.

“Wh— Why?”

You shut down her interrogation, “I just… stuff happened. I couldn’t handle everything all at once.” Her eyes sadden and she places a comforting hand on top of yours.

“I’m so sorry, honey. Whatever it was… I hope it’s okay, now.”

“Getting through it.” You shrug, feigning nonchalance. The air is suddenly suffocating.

“Y’know… if you’re interested…” Professor Meyers’ tone is suggesting. Your brow quirks at the woman plotting in front of you.

“Some of the art profs are always looking for some extra help for the introductory courses. Your rough drafts were always pretty spectacular.”

Your body burns. “Thank you.”

She smiles and reaches into her bag in the other chair, pulling out a small card and handing it to you. “This is my contact information. I can set you an interview with Professor Ronson if you’d wanna join the little alumni support team.”

You accept her card, “But I’m not… I didn’t graduate— “

“Oh, hush now! If you go to college, you’re an alumni! These exclusive rules are outdated!” Professor Meyers stands with her bag and tea. “I gotta run, but please consider it! It could be a great marketing opportunity for you!”

You're left to simmer in your thoughts as she rushes out of the cafe. You didn’t even have the chance to tell her that you haven’t touched a canvas since your father’s funeral.

You waltz into the upscale restaurant with tied lungs. Prepping an outfit for tonight was a hassle; You were forced to rummage through your father’s closet for suitable attire. You can’t remember the last time you made a purchase for yourself.

You feel out of place standing here with the… upper class. They’re dressed to the nines and it’s incredibly intimidating. Your eyes cast downward to your wrinkly shirt and blazer; Why didn’t you bring a fucking iron?

“How can I help you, miss?”

Your eyes bulge when they lock with the host’s and gut churns with discomfort. Your legs wobble closer to the counter, “I— there’s… reservation…”

The host stares at you with utter confusion, “Oh, sure! What’s the name?”

“Um… Amaya— “

“Ms. Robinson?” The host’s eyes fill with glitter, “Oh my gosh, when I saw her walk in earlier, I was like, no way she’s actually here. This is crazy! But it was really her! I couldn’t believe— “

Another host interjects, “My apologies, ma’am! She’s a bit, uh, excited. Your table is right this way.” The host begins walking, and your feet move on autopilot, “Would you like a menu?”

“No. I’m good, thanks.” You won’t be able to keep anything down anyway.

You move through bustling walkways, ears filled with bouts of obnoxious laughter and corny jokes with each table you pass.

Your heart stutters in your chest when you see the isolated leather and rosewood booth where Amaya sits, her back to you. There’s two glasses and a bottle of… something on the table.

“Ms. Robinson! Your guest is here!”

Amaya, filled glass in hand, cranes her neck and meets your flitting gaze. Her eyes are stagnant, unmoving, and your nerves wrack. She looks fucking immaculate with the slit in her black dress, smokey makeup, heeled

shoes. She’s dressed down for a fucking funeral. Yours.

You’re actually not ready to see her. You’re not ready at all.

“You want a glass?”

Amaya’s tone is cold. Colder than the dripping neck of the bottle right in front of you. “N-No thank you.”

She scoffs laughter around the rim, “Shocking.” You scramble for a reply, anything to say to the woman oozing impatience in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper. She sets her glass down with an unsteady clink.

“You said that already.” She states, brown eyes sharp. “Why are you?”

You scratch at your ear, trying to mask the tremors in your fingertips, “Because… I — I wasn’t…”

“I don’t hear from you for months,” She spits, “And then I get a phone call from my drunk best friend screamin’ at me, tellin’ me that I fucking left her to grieve by herself… because I’m selfish and money hungry… Right?”

Angry tears sizzle in Amaya’s eyes as she continues, “And I still come and visit you… only to get a door slammed in my fuckin’ face.”

You’re completely frozen; You can barely look her in the eye. Your hands are clenched together under the table, nausea creeping up your throat. “I… there’s no excuse for what I did— “

Amaya’s eyes are void, “Why did you do it.”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” you rush out, desperate. You’re losing her, “He — I was just — I couldn’t control myself and I screamed and yelled and blamed everyone for what happened. I was just so mad and I couldn’t stop— “

“Abby called me two days ago.”

You gasp, “S-She did—?”

“She told me she hated you.” Amaya says plainly. The remaining shards of your heart dissipate like dust, leaving your mouth when you whimper, “O-Okay.” Tears stream down your cheeks and neck, harsh sniffles filling the small corner of the restaurant. “She hasn’t, um… never mind.” That’s why she hasn’t reached out, you suppose. Well deserved.

“I don't… hate you, you know that, right?”

You sob, palms in your eyes, “S’okay if you do. I deserve it.”

She shrugs, “I don’t. I’m just very disappointed in you.” You nod in agreement, in understanding. You accept that this is probably the last time you’ll ever see someone you considered a sister.

“I’m so sorry, May— “

“M’gonna head out. I’m,” She wipes a tear and grabs her bag, throwing a hundred-dollar bill on the table. “I… I don’t hate you.” You cry as you watch Amaya gather herself, stand, and leave without another word. You heave and attempt to dry your face with the fresh napkin but they won’t stop flowing.

It’s difficult, accepting that you’re undeserving. That you’ve dug yourself into a hole that you can’t escape. It’s dark and cold and you’re desperate for comfort but it never comes because you chased it all away. You eye the tall bottle that sweats; Very tempting, but you leave it where it stands. The blame for your downfall is yours to take; The only reward you can receive now is from your upkeep. To dig yourself out from beneath the maggot-infested dirt. To resurface and recover what you can.

You’re unsure how long you sit here crying. Devastation sets hard in your tummy when you stand to leave the restaurant, ignoring the judgmental stares from the annoying, old fuckers that wouldn’t stop glaring at you.

The air outside is fresh and soothing as you walk, right past your parked car. Past the young people mingling and taking pictures. Past the girl doing graffiti on the old building across the street. Something beats in your chest when you eye her spray paint cans, brushes in her hand, the bright colors all over her bare arms. Her passion is evident, even from a distance, and you miss that. That feeling that takes over when you create something that no one else can replicate. Her style is unique to her just like yours is to you.

Color sparks in your soul for the first time in a year, and you know what you have to do tomorrow morning.

taggiesss yasss n slayyyy @dyk3ang3l @ellieloml @inf3ct3dd @fromminaa @womenofarcane @sawaagyapong @mina-281 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @i00rii @sakiigami @starologist @southelroys @diddiqueen @trackinglessons @ellieswhorcrux @villainousbear @p4ison1vy @tohoko @yuckyfucky @dollyfleurs @elsbunny222 @sevsbimbo @amiorca @alittlextrahoney @gato-chino @topiatwin @r3wbeef @elliesatchel @muthafuckingstargirl

#in frame ✎⋆.ೃ࿔*:･#ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie williams au #ellie williams angst #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #black!reader #black!oc #lesbian #works 𖧧࣪#photographer!ellie

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changbinsboobs · 6 months ago

Note

Who is more into commoners vs idols/celebs?

Skz limiting beliefs

Can you do these in between husband series?

Ugh those guys just can't give a straight answer🙄💀

Who in Skz is more into celebs/commoners?

Chan: not a definitive answer, rather he says when the chemistry's there its there, doesn't really matter what the person is. Although i believe thats what he would say but how it actually is, is that he prefers having someone thats equal to him in the sense that they're both are on the same mental&emotional level. So thats a pretty big indicator for me that for serious stuff he probably leans towards celebs cuz they share a similar lifestyle and understanding of that life.

Lee know: bro just said none💀😂 although when i look past that there's a heavy commoner energy. It just feels simple. Theres no better word to describe the feeling. So i guess he's someone that appreciates simplicity in relationships especially and by logic commoners are simpler than idols or celebs.

Changbin: my guy tells me he likes people who reject him🥲🤡 he likes chasing after something he can't have. I had to pull 3 cards for him cuz bro kept repeating the same thing in each one. Idk guys, i guess he doesn't have a preference or if he does his need to chase and be rejected and wallow in his own tears and despair is way higher on his priority list when looking for a partner than if the person is famous or not🙃

Hyunjin: ehm so...he has had a pretty bad experience with someone so he's shaken in his preference. Idk which one it is tho. Once ahain clarification cards aren't of any help🥲 after long, long, long shuffling i finally got a card which gives me groups & peers vibe so maybe he tried something with a person from his circles and it wasn't good at all so now he's confused as to if he should remain open to idols or not. That being said, my guess is that for now he's keeping it low and kind of in the middle. Maybe not dating complete commoners, but also not celebs, maybe he's oriented himself towards influencers or something of that sort.

Han: Def commoners. He needs to be the star, to be admired, to get lots of attention and having many hypemans. Among other celebs he would be just one among many, but among commoners he's a star. And he lives that. So his choice in partners also def reflects that.

Felix: he likes a good variety. A bit of everything. So i think he may not habe a solid preference but rather be in the mood for this today, and net week in the mood for the other. Yk. For now his new "mood" is wise people. I think he's really into that - people who see through others shit, who cant be fooled easily, who can teach him a lot and have a "godly aura".

Seungmin: he likes celebs, well mannared and pretty. Also may not necessarily be entertainment celebs like idols. Could be actors, ceos, owners of something, just affluent people with status, means, manners and just overall are a "good, valueable contribution to society".

I.N: so either he's saying he likes heartbreakers or that he's a heartbreaker. Boy what?! Ok i think a commoner may have broken his heart so now he's gotten cold towards them or something. Maybe he wants to repay now in ignoring "them" and focusing and considering only options that are more affluent.

#skz #stray kids #tarot reading #kpop #asks #bang chan #lee know #seo changbin #hyunjin #lee felix #han jisung #seungmin #i.n #skz tarot #stray kids tarot #kpop tarot #headcanons #reaction #skz imagines

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rav1377 · 17 days ago

Text

Yankee 7

Nikolai x fem!reader

tw:smutty utty! helicopter sex, big Russian man, interrupted sex, kissing, breeding kink, handjob, uh idk, etc etc etc use of davochka as “girl”had to google more terms bc I don’t speak Russian

Nikolai’s got you pinned on the floor of the helicopter. it’d been a slow day today, him tinkering on the machine, trying to make it better than it was. so when you walked over to check on him, he couldn’t resist the urge to have you beneath him. you just looked so pretty! he’d been in the cockpit, tinkering with some calibration panel when you climbed into the helicopter, leaning on the entry door to the cockpit. “everything going okay?” you asked, sweet voice cutting through the sound of his tools and grunts of frustration. he’d turned his head only to see you, standing in a sweet little white dress, spaghetti straps struggling to hold it all together. he stood and nodded, coming to press a kiss to your cheek. he sighed something heavy before his hands came to rest on your hips. you felt his tongue drag over your neck as he nipped at the skin there.

you reached up to curl your arms around his neck, and his hands tighten. “come on milaya, don’t tease me.” he murmurs playfully against your neck. you grin and pull him by his hair to catch his lips in yours. his eyes are lidded and if you don’t know what that means you don’t know the grass is green and the sky is blue. his hands drift down to creep under your skirt, feeling your bare thighs. you purposely didn’t put your knickers on this morning, knowing he’d want something like this. he’s picking you up, perfectly sitting on his waist as he drops to his knees slowly, mouth never leaving yours. you find the zipper of his flight suit, pulling it down below his crotch.

he’s already hard as you fumble for him, trying to get your dress up. he tuts and brings his hands to your shoulders before laying you on your back and moving your knees apart. when his hand creeps up to rub your clit, you’re already soaked. “you touched yourself?” he purrs into your ear. you nod and blush, trying to turn away from him. he’s rough though, pulling your head up to him so he can kiss your neck as he spreads the slick over your folds. “guess you don’t need another one from my fingers if you beat me to it.” he grins, watching your eyes widen as he pulls himself out of his boxer shorts before lining up. “no! Nik please come on…” you whine, trying to push him away, but he’s relentless. you gasp as he pushes in, the intrusion hurting you slightly. the feeling of him bottoming out, flush against your body has you groaning. “no, you must have not wanted my fingers if you used yours.” he states, moving his hips that sit on top of yours at a slow agonizing pace. “Nik.” you say, trying to keep your voice stern. “what.” he growls out, groaning as your wrapped around him so tight. he thinks he could stay here forever, your wet cunt keeping him trapped. “Nik please-i need more.” you beg, trying to move your hips under his weight. his head snaps up from your neck and he grips your hair to force you to look at him. “say it right.” he says, eyes hard. “Nikolai please give me more. need you so bad. just want you to fuck me please.” you get out, trying to get him to move. Nik smirks. “was that hard?” he asks, pinching your cheek lovingly before thrusting into you harshly. you gasp and shake your head. “no! thankyounikthankyou” your words are slurring as he pushes against your g-spot every time. a groan is heard against your ear and you close your legs around his waist to give him better leverage.

you’ve always loved just how vocal Nik is. you like knowing that you’ve pleased him, made feel good like he always does to you. he always takes care of you so well, leaving you pliant and worn-out after each release he gives you. his hips pump into you harsher now, hitting that sweet spongy spot. little grunts and whimpers leave your lips, heavy breaths in between. you feel something tighten in you, that returning feeling like you need to let go. whining, you grip Niks biceps. “Nik….” he nods into your chest, pulling away. your skin is covered with drool, panting as he kisses the hickey he just planted under your collarbone. “Nik!” you yelp after a particularly harsh thrust. “almost there?” he grunts. you’re sure you look like a bobble head, your nodding so much. noises continue to escape you, jaw slack open as you head rests on the cool metal beneath you. “come on sweet girl, come on me.” he groans, feeling you finally release. he keeps moving though, your walls spasm around the sensation. “nghh-Nik too much” you say, tugging at his hair. he nods and pulls out abruptly. you whine at that. you wanted him to slow down, not stop! then he flips you over on your stomach, forcing your body up. he’s back inside you in seconds, and you struggle to keep your hands planted with every movement. your pretty white dress has grime and oil on it from the helicopter floor but you don’t care. Nikolai shoves up the skirt, keeping it pushed over your hips so he can see his cock disappearing with each snap of his hips. at least he’s being nice, letting you come down from your high with slow movements that fill you up.

“better?” he asks, petting hair away from your shoulders and face, opting to hold it for you behind your nape. “mhm.” your knees feel shaky and hurt against the cold metal, but that doesn’t matter when your husband picks up the speed again. you cry out, feeling it’s all getting to you. the past two wore you out, and your mind starts to slip away from you. drool drips out of your mouth and onto the metal below as Nik is relentless. “making you feel good, huh?” he asks, pulling your head up by the hair before holding your neck with his hand. his motions never stop and you swear you might pass you. drool seeps down your chin and you nod. “yes-ah! shit so good Nik” you say before crying out. “watch that pretty mouth of yours devochka.” he growls. his hand drops your head and comes down to your clit, rubbing quick circles on it in an effort to get you closer. it’s works, it’s not long before your clenching on him again, release catching you off guard. your arms become weak and your front drops to rest on your forearms as he holds your hips up.

“fuck.” he groans, working you through the aftershocks. “you can give me one more, right milaya? make your papochka fill you up?” he asks, shifting again. you nod, letting him pick you up. he’s placing you on one of the seats by the door, chest resting on the harsh canvas. your hands grip the sides and you peek back at him. he stands tall, member in hand. he’s dripping with pre, tip ruddy and wet. you groan and do your best to push yourself up for him. he smirks and palms your ass before slipping in. the stretch feels good now, you’re so full. the ache in your lower stomach is already forming, anticipating what’s coming. he’s mumbling nonsense in your ear as his chest is flush with your back. “going to fill you up right, milaya. promise. ngh-gonna look so pretty with my come dripping out of you.” you whine and push your hips back into him. “that’s right, you want that, don’t you.” he groans. “want to be filled up by me. get all round with my child?” he asks, biting your shoulder softly. your breaths come out ragged and gasping. you lift your head and nod again. “yesyesyesnikplease!” his hips never lose their pace and sweat beads on his forehead. “ah! gon-gonna come Nik.” you say, mind going blank as you do, fully sucking him inside you. he groans again, pinching his base as his hips stutter. your body is limp against the chair as he continues to wreck you. “hm one more?” he asks, pinching your ass. you’re unresponsive except for twitching fingers. “milaya.” he barks out with a harsh thrust. your head jolts up at that. “yes!” you gasp out. how the hell hasn’t he come. is the only thought in your mind, and you’re unsure you can take any more.

static crackles over the helicopters intercom.

a rough British voice on the radio. “Yankee 7, Yankee 7, come in.” Nik’s eyes widen and he freezes, chest panting against yours. “Yankee 7, do you read us?” the voice cuts through again and Niks eyes screw shut. “Nik. go answer it.” you say, words slurred. he groans behind you, but stumbles away and to the cockpit. “da. this is Yankee 7. i read you.” he says, hitting the radio button. you slide off the chair, tucking your dress under your bottom before sitting on the metal ground. “Yankee 7 we need emergency exfil immediately, we’re 20 clicks north of your pos. can you get us?” the voice is yelling now, noise rings out of the intercom before going silent. Nik curses low in Russian and starts up the engine. he turns to you and you stand on wobbly legs before yanking you into the cockpit and pushing you into a chair. Nik zips up his suit and hits a button to close the side doors. the helicopter takes off into the air and he cranks the speed up towards John’s location. you sigh and look over at him. “i could’ve stayed back.” you offer. Nik shakes his hand and pulls on a pair of headphones, prompting you to do the same. his voice is clear and rumbles in your head. “wanted you to come.” he says. you nod and smooth your dress over your legs. Nikolai flips a switch and static is a background of the headphones. “this is Yankee 7, can you read us?” he asks. John’s voice cuts through. “loud and clear! sending you our pos now.” you turn to a screen to your right and see the transmission. following what Nik has taught you to do, you punch the cordinates in and they flash on the dash of the old helicopter. Nik looks over at them and nods. “we’re en route. comms are on.” Nik says before guiding the copter to the location. it’s in the city, that you know for sure. some mission must’ve just gone down, gone askew and they needed exfil. looking over at Nik, you can still see his prominent bulge through the leather flight suit.

oh you just got a bad idea.

leaning over, you run a hand over his thigh, applying pressure. Nik stiffens, but doesn’t move. your delicate hand runs up his chest to unzip the suit to where you could squeeze your hand through. his skin is so warm as you go beneath his boxers to touch him. his lips part and eyes glance down to where your hand is, before looking back up and clenching his hands on the wheel. you continue your actions, rubbing over his fat tip with your thumb before moving your hand up and down his shaft. he grits his teeth and pursues his lips, trying to stop the noises. you smile and lean over to press a soft kiss to his lips, and he struggles to keep his eyes ahead of him. you pull away and his eyes flit to yours, desperate. you nod at him and reach your other hand down to cup his balls and you squeeze. he shudders and his eyes flutter shut, but to his credit, he doesn’t let a sound leave his throat. his come paints your hand and you pull out of his suit, licking the stray liquid from your fingers as he eyes open and breaths leave his mouth is short bursts. his pupils are blown wide as you slowly zip his suit up again, patting his shoulder before sitting back in your seat.

just like you thought, the boys are in a city. John’s yelling through the mic at the boys as the helicopter hovers over a platform, waiting for them. Gaz is our first, scanning the rooftop with his weapon before Soap follows. Ghost and John are next, side by side as they sprint in. the doors are opened and a rush of wind blows in as they climb inside. Nik takes off as soon as John’s in and everyone breathes a sigh of relief. “thanks mate.” John calls, leaning into the cockpit before slapping Nikolai on the shoulder. “anytime my brother.” he replies, smirking. John peers over at you. “bringing the missus on these now?” he asks, reaching over to give you a half hug, hand over your right shoulder. you smile and pat his hand. “this is not my wife, this is my copilot. completely certified!” Nik jokes, smiling. Johnnys voice rings out. “ye brought the missus!” he yells, pawing at John to get out of the way so he can press a kiss to your cheek. “lass ye really ought to get certified, that way we have a pretty face to come to instead o’ Nik’s.” he says sarcastically before walking off. “sure she’d do better than you, Nik!” Simon’s gruff voice cuts through and you laugh. Nikolai’s eyes narrow. “i do have control of this aircraft.” he says coolly. “yea let’s not piss off the one flying the thing that could kill us!” Gaz calls. Johnny retreats to the belly of the copter while John stays up front with you and Nik, watching through the glass as you make your way back to the hanger. “yknow. you were breathing a little heavy back there Nik. wonder what that’s about.” John’s low voice cuts through and Nik looks up at John, smirking. “ah. thanks to my copilot im sure.” he says, smiling at you. Johns blue eyes focus on yours and you flush, looking at your lap. his eyes inspect your dirtied dress, the a little too loose straps, your messy hair. “well, good to know she finished the job.” he remarks, holding the nape of your neck.

“how long are you in town for?” Nik asks.

oh no. you’re screwed.

Note: had fun writing this!!! definitely was floating around in my head bc that man and his flight suit do some things to me! yall got any thoughts/requests with Nikolai please let me know!!!

-cass💕:D

#Nikolai x reader #Nikolai x you #cod Nikolai x reader #cod nikolai x you #Cod men x reader #cod men x you

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chil-aglia · 23 days ago

Text

𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 |ROTTMNT| (Male OC)

No rest for the wicked

Be sure to read the tags on my Ao3 so you guys know what you’re getting yourselves into.

Picture above done by me. But PLEASE feel free to make your own art and idk tag me in it or something—

Warnings: Implied past trauma of SA, past trauma, invasion of privacy, kidnapping, etc

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

It had been at least 3 days since the chip was removed. 3 days of recovery. 3 days of feeling safe. But of course, Giovanni couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling surging over him whenever he touched the back of his sensitive neck. He can feel the stitches, trying not to pick at it as he bites his lower lip.

He would never say this out loud right now to everyone. But he was still scared. Scared that EPF could find him. Capture him and torture him all over again. Worst of all, his family could end up hurt too. He’d never forgive himself if that ever happened.

“Hey…you doing okay?” Raph had gently spoken up, startling Giovanni who flinched slightly at the sudden voice coming up from behind him. Giovanni was sitting alone in the living room, the TV on in the background, but Giovanni had long blocked it out, too focused on other things.

“I’m okay…” He replied, trying to appear as honest as he could. But Raph could sense the lie, taking note at how his brother clenched his hands together tightly, a bead of sweat at the back of his neck rolling down, the way he avoided eye contact.

It was obvious he wasn’t doing too well.

And Raphael could only guess what was eating away at him. He never actually…talked about his time with the EPF, they never had a chance to.

Raphael eventually sat down beside him without another word, close but not too close—he knew better than to push. The silence between them hung heavy for a moment, but not uncomfortable. Just…fragile.

“You don’t have to tell me everything,” Raph finally said, voice low. “But I’m here. You know that, right?”

Giovanni nodded, barely. His eyes flicked to the muted TV, unfocused. “I know.”

There was another long pause before Giovanni spoke again, this time softer. “They made me do things…terrible things, Raph.” He starts off, voice slightly cracking as he refuses to make eye contact with his little brother.

“…I killed innocent yokais. Especially in the battle nexus.” Giovanni grimaced at the blurry memories, sighing as he placed his hands over his ears, closing his eyes.

“They used some kind of…mystic power on me. Made me see the Krang.”

Raph felt his jaw tighten. He hated this—hated that someone had gotten that deep inside his brother’s mind. “Giovanni…” Raph’s voice cracked.

“I’m scared, Raph.” The words tumbled out like a secret finally breaking free. “Even with it gone, it’s like I can still feel them watching. Like they left something in me. Something I can’t shake.”

“You’re not alone in this.” Raph said, finally placing a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Whatever they did, whatever they tried to do—you’re still you. And we’re going to make sure they never touch you again.”

Giovanni met his brother’s eyes. There was fear there, yes—but also a flicker of something else. Trust. The kind that only came from surviving hell and still holding on to the people who mattered.

“Thank you…” He gave a strained, tired smile.

Leo didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but he did. Face scrunching up lightly before shaking his head and limping his way to Donnie’s lab, the soft shell had been cooped up inside for days now, and Leo and the others remained unsure as to what he was doing in there.

Leo sneakily opens the door, peeking his head through, tilting his head as he sees his twin’s fingers flying across the keyboard on his large computer screen, eyes narrowed behind his purple mask.

Leo curiously looks over, eyes wide when he sees it was security cameras of the very place that put Giovanni through hell.

Leo strides over, shutting the door behind him for privacy as he makes his way up to Donnie. “What are you doing?” He spoke up, causing Donnie to yelp briefly before he sighs to calm down.

“How’d you get in?”

“You left the door unlocked.”

“Seriously?”

Donnie groaned, rubbing his temple as he leaned back against his chair. “Well, I’m sure your eyes are working. As you can see, I hacked into the EPF base.”

Leo hums in acknowledgement. “How though? You had trouble last time doing that.” He inquired, making Donnie scoff, “When we went to rescue Gio, I threw some of my tech around, letting them scan and download any and all of their technology that they had into their system.” He explains, smiling proudly at himself as Leo lowly whistles in impressiveness.

“The downloads have just been completed. I’m…I’m going to watch the videos. See what the hell they did to our brother.”

Leo goes quiet at this, taking in a breath, “In that case, I’ll watch too.” He walks away for a moment, grabbing a stool and putting it beside Donnie who deadpans.

“You sure?”

“As a leader, I want to know. Need to know. Plus…he’s my brother. Our brother. I can’t sit by, he’s back to being jumpy.”

Donnie didn’t need much convincing, nodding before clicking on some files and clicking on the first file. He pulled the footage into full screen. Both brothers stared.

Giovanni on the first day of his kidnap. Scared, lost, confused. Pacing around like an animal as he was looking for any way out. Stripped of his mask and gear.

Both brothers collectively narrowed their eyelids. Staying focused on what they were going to watch.

-----

“No! Get off me!”

The cries of Giovanni echoed, followed by his desperate chirps as he fought against the manhandling.

-----

The choking sobs as Giovanni is strapped down to a metal table, head slumped. Needles. Cold lights. A scientist in a lab coat whispering into a recorder. Giovanni jerking against restraints, silent screams echoing from the feed.

-----

The battle against the yokai wolf, its white fur stained with red as it lags limply on the floor. Giovanni staring down at it blankly.

Then the shock collar.

-----

Giovanni pounced on Dr. Avery, punching him as he had been starved for days by now. That was a bit satisfying to see.

But then he would get shocked again by the collar.

-----

The starvation period. The way Giovanni would curl in a corner, crying to himself. Mumbling to himself. The way he’d jump at the slightest of noise.

Dr. Brookes coerced him to become calm, building trust with him. The time Bishop gave Giovanni a toy bear that seemed to have made Giovanni become practically nonverbal, just chirps and clicking and other turtle noises.

-----

The day Giovanni saw Sister Krang. That was hard to watch. Had Donnie look away and gag, shaking slightly as he could only imagine the trauma.

-----

The invasion of his privacy. Mentally and physically draining him. The way he looked so exhausted…so troubled.

He’s been through hell…and they were going to continue all these torture on him.

-----

There was other footage—invasive examinations, invasive scans, moments where Giovanni recoiled like a cornered wild, feral animal.

There was even video of him at the Battle Nexus. In the room with that Dr. Brookes lady…what they saw her do to him as he is battered and bruised, too weak to fight against her disgusting touches.

Leo’s fists clenched at his sides, eyes dangerously glaring at the screen. “They did that to him?” He hisses under his breath, pupils slit and jaw clenched.

Donnie nodded once, slowly. “We’re not just watching anymore.”

They exchanged a look. No words needed. The kind of look only brothers who’d seen too much, and lost too much, could share.

“I’ll tell Raph and Mikey we’re heading out.” Leo said, turning. “No.” Donnie stood, making Leo halt and look back at him in puzzlement, but Donnie had already gathered some gear. “We tell them we’re getting pizza. That’s it.”

Leo smirked faintly, bitterness clear in his expression. “Right. Pizza.” He agrees, clearing his throat as he takes in a breath and puts on his best fake smile. It had been hours as the twins were watching the videos.

He saw Mikey, Raph, their father and Giovanni in the living room, chatting and watching TV together. Leo’s eyes focused on Giovanni instinctively, fighting his urge to run over and embrace his brother.

Donnie clears his throat loudly, gaining their attention. “Boys! What have you been doing all this time?” Splinter inquired, surprised to see them after the hours they’ve been cooped up inside the lab.

“Sorry, dad. Just playing a game with Don. Say, we’re actually kind of hungry, Donnie and I were going to grab some pizzas for us.” Leo explains smoothly, lazily smiling as Raph’s stomach growls.

“Pizza huh. I can work with that. Oh! Can you get the chicken wings too?”

“Sure thing, bro.”

Leo and Donnie quickly usher out the lair, bidding everyone their brief goodbyes, but once they got up the ladder and lifted the manhole cover off, climbing through and up to the surface.

They were on a mission.

Reaching the surface was easy, it always had been, Leo turned to Donnie who took out a familiar sphere shaped object.

“I can’t believe you kept that.” Leo mumbles, eyeing the teleportation device as Donnie huffs, “Neither can I…are we sure we want to do this?” He inquired, furrowing his brows in second guessing the plan. Leo rolled his eyes and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“If we want to stop EPF for good, we gotta go after them. Do you really want them to continue on, even after what they put Giovanni through?”

His voice was stern, angry and determined. All mixed together. Donnie silently watched, thinking it over in his head. Leo was right…it wouldn't be good if EPF remained operational.

“….okay. For Gio.”

“For Gio.”

With simple precision, Donnie places down the sphere, the twins watching it levitate into the air and summon a portal to their destination.

With a final nod of encouragement towards each other, they both step inside.

-----

Hours passed, too long for a simple pizza run. Raph had begun pacing around the lair, arms folded, brows drawn tight. “They should be back by now. Where the hell are they?” He grumbled to himself, careful to not be too loud. Giovanni had finally managed to fall asleep, resting on the couch comfortably with Mikey sitting beside him.

Mikey glanced at his phone again, then at the lair’s entrance. “Should we be worried? Maybe they actually did get lost on the way to Hueso’s?”

But they both knew better.

Raph glanced over to his sleeping older brother, frowning in sympathy. While Giovanni didn’t go into full detail of what exactly happened, he shared enough for Raph.

“Come on…we gotta go find them.” Raph softly informs, beckoning for Mikey to follow as the youngest turtle was a little hesitant on doing so, but he figured with Splinter here, plus April and CJ who had arrived a few minutes after Leo and Donnie left, claiming that they wanted to hang out, check in on everyone, it should be fine to leave Giovanni in their care.

Without another word, they grabbed their gear and headed out into the night. Climbing the escape ladder and opening the manhole cover, quiet and stuck to the shadows of the alleyway.

But there was a bright light, making the two gasp once they saw what it was.

The portaling device, the one they used to get into the EPF base to rescue Giovanni. Raph’s heart tightened and eyes blown wide.

“Those idiots…” He hisses to himself, understanding that the two twins lied, that they went after EPF. “We gotta go after them, right?” Mikey spoke up, standing beside his older brother who nodded.

“Let’s go!”

The two ran into the portal.

-----

More time passed. The quiet but somehow loud ticking of a clock in Splinter’s room echoed, each second dragging suspiciously longer. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but he felt off. He knew his sons were out, but it had been far too long now for a simple pizza run.

Splinter sighs, getting up and exiting his room, looking around in hopes to see someone. He did, April and CJ who had been sitting in comfortable silence in the living room, sprawled on the couch was Giovanni, snoring softly away with a blanket over his body and head tucked under a pillow.

Oh his son…Splinter could tell he was exhausted, could tell he was still in pain, mental pain. He wished he could’ve done something sooner, wished he could go back in time, grab Giovanni in that lab explosion and take him away to raise alongside his brothers.

He would’ve potentially ended up somehow far different than what he is like now. Hopefully he would’ve been happier.

“Splints…did the guys say what time they’ll be back?” April quietly whispered, making her way over as CJ turned his head towards them in curiosity.

The rat hums, placing a hand under his chin in deep thought.

Splinter could sense it now—that something had shifted. He, Casey, and April had waited long enough, his sons were possibly in danger, and he was not going to let that happen again. Not this time.

“Come. Let’s go find them.”

“Okay, I’ll wake up Gio—“

Splinter quickly snapped his head towards CJ who had inched closer to Giovanni’s sleeping form. “No!” He shouts, before he stiffens, biting his lower lip as Giovanni briefly stirs before his breathing evened out.

“No…let him rest. We will be back.”

CJ frowns but nods in understanding. With grim determination, they left the lair in search of the four missing turtles.

And much like the others, after climbing out and reaching the alleyway, they found the portal. Open and wide.

-----

“Wake up…”

K…Karai? Gram-Gram’s voice…

“You must awaken my child. Your family is in great danger!”

Giovanni whimpers, the voice growing louder as he tossed and turns. Just a nightmare he figured.

“No nightmare my dear child. Now quickly, open your eyes…Giovanni!”

He gasps awake, cold sweat on his skin as he sits up, eyes wide and breathing sharp. He looks around, examining with his eyelids on where he was.

The lair.

But it was quiet. Too quiet. Almost empty.

He gulps, throwing off the blanket and carefully standing up. Wrapping his arms around himself with anxiousness.

“H-hello? Dad…? Leo? M-Mikey?”

….

“Anyone…?”

Silence. Tense, eerie silence.

Oh no…did…did they leave him? No, no, no!

Giovanni felt his throat closing up, briefly forgetting how to breathe as he ran around the lair, going into every room he could find.

Leo’s room. He’s not there.

Donnie’s lab. Not there.

Raph in the gym? Nope.

Mikey in the gaming room? No!

Dad’s room? Nothing!

Where…where is everyone?!

He whimpers, legs shaking and clasping his hands over his head, eyes closed and lips trembling. He was alone. Just like he had been in the hands of the EPF.

He was down right terrified. Shaking violently as he felt tears reach the corner of his eyes. Why is it always him? Being left behind like this…

“My child…”

A warm hand pressed against his shoulder, causing the yellow bellied slider to gasp and look up.

He recognised the figure in front of him. Karai.

Transparent and glowing yes. But it was Karai. Her spirit.

“W-what—“

“I understand you’re fragile right now. But please, you are the only one who can help them.”

Them…?

“Your family…they need your help.”

Giovanni perks up. His family was in danger? Is that what she was getting at? “Where are they…?” He asked in utter confusion, as Karai frowned before pointing up.

“Go to the surface. You’ll see.”

She soon vanishes, making Giovanni blink as he takes in deep breaths to control his emotions. He looked down at himself briefly, he was still in gear, never had been bothering to change out of them earlier.

He runs to the med bay, grabbing his sword that leaned against the wall as he clenched the hilt tightly.

He left the med bay afterwards, gulping once more. He didn’t want to feel abandoned. He knew they didn’t mean to leave him. But still, the silence of the lair grew heavier by the minute. His chest felt tight. Every shadow is too long. Every creak is too loud.

His fingers found the back of his neck again, brushing against the healing stitches. A memory flashed—bright lights, metal restraints, voices in his head.

He needed air.

His fingers grasped the escape ladder once he left the comfort of the lair, slowly climbing up. He noticed the manhole uncovered, which was odd.

Nervously he peeked his head out, looking left and right. He climbs out fully, his non-existent brows furrowing as took a moment to breathe in the much needed oxygen and look around the alleyway.

What was he supposed to see—

Oh.

He widens his eyes at the sight of the portal ahead of him. Cautiously walking over before stopping in front of it.

What was it? He could’ve sworn it looked quite familiar. Like he’s seen it somewhere before—

He gasps, flinching back when it comes to him. This had been the device his family used to rescue him from that hellhole.

“Don’t tell me…” He quietly mumbled under his breath, sword tight in his hand as he held it to the side.

They…they went to the EPF?

He gulps, looking around for…for well anything that could give him peace of mind. Maybe it was a dream. He was hallucinating.

It can’t be real.

He pants, growing panic rising as his eyes shifted over to the brick wall.

And that’s when he saw it.

A bloodied piece of fabric pinned to the wall with a blade of a knife.

And beneath it… a note.

The paper was torn, the handwriting jagged and rushed. But it was enough.

We have your family. Come alone. You know where.

His breath caught in his throat.

There was something else smeared on the bricks beneath the note—four familiar markings in some kind of marker.

A blue streak. A purple print. Red scratches. Orange splatter.

Their colors.

And with Splinter not in the lair, along with CJ and April not present either. He had to conclude that they were…

Giovanni staggered back, hand raised to his mouth, feeling sick. His heart pounding, sweat forming on his green skin, he felt as though his world was tilting under him.

They took them.

They took them all.

….

…….

……….

And he’s getting them back. No matter what.

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

Can’t believe this story is ending soon—

I APOLOGISE FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES THAT WERE MADE, I TYPE PRETTY FAST AND OFTEN DON’T SEE THEM UNTIL I ACTUALLY PUBLISH THE CHAPTER. THEN I’D TRY AND FIX ANY MISTAKES WHEN I SEE ONE.

Tumblr - 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 |ROTTMNT| (Male OC)

Ao3 - 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 |ROTTMNT| (Male OC)

First chapter here

Next chapter here

Taglist:

@fluffyyyfrog9000

@turtl3sk3tch3s

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hkevisvlsvso · 5 months ago

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Guys I think I just wrote a really short part of some Deon fanfic...

It's like in s2 e12 the scene when Leon comes to the landfill(I have no idea what is it called really in the english dub version so..) and... u know.

Because i just realised that Deniz looks so sad when Leon comes while everyone else looked just angry 😭

The way how Deniz stares at that book like he knows Leon is going to leave him and the whole team but thinks that if he doesn't see it and just focuses on the book, mabye it won't really happen....

BUT, here it is. I'm really bad at english so i hope you understand it😅😅

[(Almost) all the lines were from the finnish dub, idk if it's the same in other languages but mabye it's okay....]

------------------------☆☆☆------------------------

I look up from the book when I hear footsteps approaching. Leon walks to the landfill looking far too casual. Traitor. A little hope flutters inside me. However, it slows down as soon as Vanessa says:

- Well, who's that? Came to tell us about your big ad campaign?

If Leon was going to apologize, he wouldn't do it after that. I press my gaze to the book and try to focus on the ancient Greek numerical codes. I want to shut out everything around me. I just want to squeeze my eyes shut, and when I open them, Leon comes beside me on the rusty roof of the car and wraps his arms around my neck and gives me something else to think about and figures out a way to get Teufelstopf back and all is well again.

No.

When I open my eyes, I'm still staring at the much too small and monotonous text of the book. Leon snorts.

- actually, I came to apologize for being so busy these days, but if you're like that, I guess it's better that I don't come at all anymore. Ever.

He doesn't know how much his cold voice breaks my heart. But I can be cold too. And I have that right. He is leaving the bunch. I stand up on the roof of the car. Leon has already turned to leave when I say:

- That's what I said too. We can do without a captain like that.

My words feel like a heavy lump on my chest, and a few more pounds are added to that lump when I realize I'm right. Leon was always the one who insisted that no one should ever leave the team. He loved football and the team more than anything in this world, as did I, and that was probably part of the reason I fell for him. But now he is leaving Teufelstopf, the Wild Soccer Bunch, us, me, for fame. I didn't think that he would be the one who leaves the team.

When Leon hears my words, something disappears in his eyes, something inexplicable. At least I think I see it. Or I hope. Or at least I want to.

He doesn't even say anything. Anger and disappointment bubble up inside me. I jumped down from the car. The thump of my feet againstthe ground makes Leon quickly turn towards me. I look at him. At the moment, I would like to just hug him on the one hand, and hit him on the other hand. I clench my hands into fists.

- I fucking koved you, I say way more toxic than i meant to. Though mabye it's just a good thing. I don't know.

I let all the pent-up sadness and frustration come out of my voice because I want him to know I'm serious. I say it so quietly that no one else can hear it, even though I want to scream it into his ear. On the other hand, I probably couldn't make a louder sound than this, almost a whisper, from the stranglehold of grief. Leon looks me in the eyes and for a few moments I may notice sadness in his eyes. Almost as crushing as my grief. Then he just closes his eyes, turns around and leaves. Up until now, I have felt that everything will be alright. But now I know that I don't have Leon anymore, everything is lost.

------------------------☆☆☆------------------------

It was kinda google translator english but hope you liked it.. I'm not sure if i do?

#dwk animated series #dwk #die wilden kerle #die wilden kerle animated series #the wild soccer bunch #deniz x leon #dwk deniz x leon #leon x deniz #dwk leon #dwk deniz #deon #dwk deon #fanfic

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foshia3 · 3 months ago

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so ...um i wrote this fanfic to lighten the brain rot.

I'm honestly not sure if I'm going to complete it depends i guess? Shadow is like my all time favourite but not more then Maria and i have soft spot for amy i can see the appeal with shadamy. In fact i can see the appeal in every ship that is with shadow idk man he just clicks with everyone and makes almost every ship with him really interesting.

So here is the fanfic.

The air in the cabin was thick with tension, heavy enough to suffocate. Shadow’s voice cracked like a whip, sharp and unrelenting, each word laced with a frustration and pain so raw it seemed to fracture the very space between them. His fists clenched at his sides, trembling as if holding back a storm.

“No, Amy. You don’t… you don’t understand.” His voice was low, almost a growl, but it wavered, betraying the fragility beneath. “Loving Maria… loving her was like chasing the light of a star. It’s still there, shining in the sky, but the star itself is gone. All that’s left is the cold, empty void it left behind. And I—” His voice broke, and for a moment, he looked as though he might shatter. “I’ll never feel her warmth again. Never hear her voice. Never… never see her smile. And every time I close my eyes, she’s there, haunting me. Like a ghost I can’t escape.”

Amy stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She had never seen Shadow like this—never heard him speak so much, let alone with such raw, unfiltered emotion. The usually stoic, distant hedgehog was unraveling before her eyes, and it was terrifying. His crimson eyes, usually so sharp and guarded, were now glistening with unshed tears, the weight of his grief laid bare.

“Everyone says I’ll get over her,” he continued, his voice rising, trembling with anger and despair. “God knows I’ve tried. But I can’t. I’ll never get over her. So don’t—don’t you dare tell me it’ll be okay. I don’t want to hear it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Amy’s breath caught in her throat, her mind racing. She had always known Shadow carried pain, but she had never imagined the depth of it. The way he spoke of Maria—it wasn’t just grief. It was longing. It was love. A love so profound it had become a part of him, etched into his very soul.

Shadow turned away abruptly, his shoulders tense, his entire body radiating a desperate need to escape. He couldn’t stay here. Not when he felt so exposed, so vulnerable. He hated it. Hated the way his chest ached, hated the way his vision blurred, hated the way Amy’s pitying gaze made him feel even smaller.

Without a word, he stormed out of the cabin, the door slamming shut behind him. The cold night air hit him like a slap, but he welcomed it. The sharp sting was better than the suffocating weight of his emotions. He walked—no, stumbled—into the darkness, his steps erratic, his mind a whirlwind of memories and regrets.

Maria. Her laughter. Her kindness. The way she had made the cold, sterile halls of the ARK feel like home. She had been his light, his anchor. And now? Now there was nothing but emptiness. A void that no amount of time or distance could fill.

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. She had dreamed of a life on Earth, of feeling the sun on her face, of seeing the oceans and forests. And she had been robbed of it. Robbed of everything. And he? He was left to carry on, to live in a world that felt so alien without her.

Every new experience, every moment of beauty or joy, was tainted by her absence. He would see something—a sunset, a field of flowers, a child’s smile—and his first thought would be, Maria would have loved this. And then the pain would come, sharp and unrelenting, a reminder of what he had lost.

Amy’s words had opened a floodgate, and now he was drowning. Drowning in memories, in grief, in the unbearable weight of his love for a girl who was gone.

Amy stood in the center of the cabin, her heart pounding, her mind reeling. She had never seen Shadow like this. The quiet, brooding hedgehog who always kept his distance, who never let anyone in—he had just shattered before her eyes. And it left her feeling… guilty. She had pushed him, desperate for answers, but she hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected the depth of his pain.

She took a step forward, her hand reaching out instinctively, but she stopped herself. Shadow wasn’t the type to accept comfort. Not from her. Not from anyone. And the way he had looked at her—like he hated her for seeing him so broken—made her chest ache.

She watched as he disappeared into the night, his form swallowed by the shadows of the forest. The guilt in her chest tightened, a heavy weight she couldn’t shake. She had gotten her answers, but at what cost?

Scarlett’s voice broke through her thoughts, calling her back inside. The night was growing colder, the woods darker, and the thought of being out here alone sent a shiver down her spine. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes still fixed on the spot where Shadow had vanished, before finally turning and stepping back into the cabin.

But even as she sat by the fire, the warmth did little to ease the chill in her heart. Where had Shadow gone? Would he come back? Had she ruined everything?

Later That Night amy was in her own room at the cabin she shared with shadow and Scarlett and Jess. Trying to catch some sleep but found herself thinking instead.

Three months. It had been three months since they had been stranded in this strange, unfamiliar world. Three months of working together, of slowly peeling back the layers of Shadow’s guarded exterior. She had learned so much about him in that time. He wasn’t as cold as she had once thought. He cared, more than he would ever admit.

But tonight… tonight had been different. Tonight, she had seen a side of him she wasn’t sure she was meant to see. And it left her feeling unsettled, her mind racing as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

He had always been so distant, so closed off. And yet, he had let her see a glimpse of the pain he carried. The pain of losing Maria. The pain of loving someone who was gone. Amy’s chest tightened at the thought. She had always known Shadow was different—more guarded, more intense—but she had never imagined the depth of his grief. It made her feel… small. Insignificant. Like her own struggles were trivial in comparison.

Sleep wouldn’t come. How could it, when her thoughts were consumed by Shadow’s broken words, by the raw pain in his voice? She tossed and turned, the weight of the night pressing down on her.

Panicking she started to question her actions..Had she messed up? Had she pushed him too far? The questions swirled in her mind, a relentless storm she couldn’t escape. All she could do was hope—hope that Shadow would come back, that he wouldn’t leave her alone in this strange, terrifying world.

Amy slipped out of bed, the thin blanket falling away as her feet touched the cold wooden floor. The cabin was silent, save for the soft, rhythmic breathing of Scarlett and Jess in the next room. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting faint silver streaks across the floor. She padded quietly to the kitchen, her mind still restless, her thoughts tangled like a knotted thread.

Maybe some warm milk will help, she thought, though she doubted anything could quiet the storm in her head. She moved carefully, avoiding the creaky floorboards, and set to work heating the milk on the stove. The soft clink of the pot and the gentle hiss of the flame were the only sounds in the stillness of the night.

As she sat at the small wooden table, cradling the warm mug in her hands, the silence felt almost oppressive. The steam rose in delicate swirls, carrying the faint, comforting scent of vanilla and honey. She took a slow sip, the warmth spreading through her chest, but it did little to ease the tightness in her heart.

Then, the door creaked open.

Amy froze, her breath catching in her throat. She turned her head slowly, her heart pounding as her eyes landed on the figure standing in the doorway. Shadow. His silhouette was sharp against the dim light of the moon, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the darkness. He looked… menacing, yet there was something in his expression—something softer, almost weary.

“Shadow?” she whispered, her voice barely audible. She felt a flush of embarrassment and a flicker of fear. Why was he here? Had he been out there all this time?

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His movements were deliberate, almost mechanical, as if he were holding himself together by sheer willpower. He walked past her and sank onto the sofa, not too close but not too far either. The distance felt intentional, as though he were keeping her at arm’s length even now.

“Why didn��t you sleep?” he asked, his voice low and neutral, almost detached. But there was a faint edge to it.

Amy fidgeted with the handle of her mug, her fingers tracing the curve nervously. “I was… um… waiting for you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a murmur. She glanced at him quickly, trying to gauge his reaction, but his expression was unreadable.

Shadow exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “I’m not leaving you, Amy,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. It was as if he had plucked the thought straight from her mind, and the certainty in his voice made her chest tighten.

She blinked, surprised. “I… I didn’t think you would,” she lied, her voice trembling slightly. She took another sip of her milk, mostly to avoid his gaze.

He leaned back against the sofa, his eyes drifting to the window, his crimson eyes glinting like shards of glass in the dark. For a moment, he looked at her, his expression unreadable.

“I found something in the forest,” he said finally, his tone matter-of-fact, but there was a weight to his words that made Amy’s breath hitch. “It might be of help. But it’s too dark now. We’ll go explore it tomorrow.” He paused, his gaze flicking to her briefly before he added, “You need to sleep. We’ll leave early.”

Amy blinked, her fingers tightening around the warm mug in her hands. She hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to come back at all, let alone with news that could change everything. Her heart raced, a mix of hope and anxiety swirling in her chest. But before she could respond, Shadow was already moving.

He turned on his heel, his movements sharp and deliberate, and walked toward his room without another word. The door clicked shut behind him, the sound echoing in the stillness of the cabin.

Amy sat there for a moment, frozen, her mind racing. She hadn’t realized how tightly she’d been holding her breath until she finally exhaled, the air leaving her lungs in a shaky rush. Her shoulders slumped, the tension she’d been carrying all night slowly unraveling.

A strange warmth spread through her chest, a tingling sensation that started in her heart and radiated outward. It wasn’t just relief—it was something deeper, something she couldn’t quite name. Shadow’s words played over in her mind: “I’m not leaving you, Amy.” They had been so simple, so direct, but they had carried a weight that left her feeling… seen. Understood.

She glanced at the closed door to his room, her thoughts a tangled mess. Shadow was an enigma, a storm she could never quite predict. But tonight, for the first time, she felt like she’d caught a glimpse of the person beneath the armor. And it left her with a strange, aching hope.

The warmth of the milk in her hands had faded, but the comfort it had brought lingered. She stood slowly, her movements quiet so as not to disturb Scarlett and Jess, and placed the mug in the sink. The cabin was silent now, the only sound the soft creak of the floorboards beneath her feet as she made her way back to her room.

As she lay down, pulling the blanket up to her chin, she felt the weight of the day finally begin to lift. The worries that had kept her awake—the fear of being left behind, the guilt of pushing Shadow too far—seemed smaller now, quieter. She closed her eyes, the image of Shadow’s face lingering in her mind. He had looked so… human. So vulnerable. And for the first time in a long time, she felt like maybe, just maybe, they were in this together.

Sleep came easier than she expected, the darkness of the room wrapping around her like a soft embrace. And as she drifted off, the last thing she thought of was the faint, almost imperceptible sound of Shadow’s movements in the other room.

In his room, Shadow sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. The weight of the night pressed down on him, heavier than ever. He had let too much slip. Too much of himself. And he hated it.

But he couldn’t leave her. Not after what he had seen in her eyes when he walked in—the fear, the uncertainty. It had mirrored his own, and that had shaken him more than he cared to admit.

He sighed, running a hand through his quills. Maria’s face flashed in his mind, her smile as bright as the stars they used to watch together. The memory was both a comfort and a torment. She had been his light, his anchor. And now? Now he was adrift, lost in a world that felt too big, too loud, too alive without her.

But Amy… Amy was different. She was stubborn, relentless, and far too perceptive for her own good. She had a way of seeing through him, of peeling back the layers he worked so hard to keep in place. And it terrified him.

He lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep wouldn’t come—it never did—but he closed his eyes anyway, willing the memories to fade, if only for a moment.

The first light of dawn crept through the curtains, painting the cabin in soft hues of gold and pink. Amy woke to the sound of birds chirping outside, their songs bright and cheerful. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and glanced at the clock. It was early, just as Shadow had said.

She dressed quickly, her movements quiet so as not to wake Scarlett and Jess. When she stepped into the kitchen, she found Shadow already there, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee in his hands. He looked up as she entered, his expression unreadable.

“Morning,” she said softly, unsure of how to break the silence.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he looked away. “We leave in ten minutes,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Amy nodded, grabbing a piece of fruit from the counter. She wanted to say something—to thank him, to apologize, to something—but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she busied herself with preparing a small breakfast, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable.

When they stepped outside, the forest was bathed in the soft light of morning, the air crisp and fresh. Shadow led the way, his movements sure and deliberate, and Amy followed, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and unease.

As they walked, the tension between them began to ease, replaced by a quiet understanding. They didn’t speak, but the silence felt different now—less strained, more companionable. And for the first time in a long time, Amy felt a flicker of hope.

Here you can read the rest :

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62938177

#shadaria #shadamy

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paleoleigh · 1 year ago

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Thinking about Stede building the Revenge for him and his family. How he knew he was unhappy and so was Mary and probably so were the kids, but his first thought/plan A was for them all to go live at sea together instead of running away himself. A stupid plan based on a self-centered idea of what might make things better? Absolutely, he clearly had a monkey playing symbols in his brain listening to Mary talk about her hatred of the ocean. But he built the Revenge as a home for his family, with a room for the kids (Jim and Olu's room?) and a library which contained children's stories and secret passageways for fun, for playing games.

Having listened to a lot of true crime podcasts with shitty-father villains, it strikes me how the idea that Stede could have just taken the kids is literally never touched on. Yeah, he probably knew he couldn't take care of them on his own, maybe didn't want to (we only really see him interacting with them by playing pirates), but Alma and Louis remain the only people Stede has canonically said the words "I love you" to (yes yes he loves Ed he was about to say it to him in s2e4 and switched tactics, but putting them in a similar category with Ed is pretty telling imo). Like...it probably never once occurred to Stede that another man might have taken the kids with him to spite his ex or to live their happy life of playing pirates on the high seas. Mary said I don't want a boat, I don't hate our lives, and Stede went welp, guess I'm on my own then.

There's a lot that can be said about Stede as a distant father who abandoned his family. I'm not saying he's the bastion of perfect fatherhood. But he's so clearly torn up about leaving them because he knows, morally, that was wrong, and even after he sets things right, he still talks about them ("two messed up kids probably/ didn't fit in with Mary and the kids") which tbh, I thought we were never gonna mention the Bonnet family again after s1e10.

Idk. I think Stede loves his kids as best he can for someone who probably never wanted them, and ultimately helped them out in the long run by not having them have to grow up in a miserable household with unhappy parents and an emotionally distant father who simply couldn't do better than playing games with them.

Also, thinking about how a lot of OFMD is thematic rather than verbally explicit...I think it's incredibly telling how upset Alma was when Stede came back, and that she wanted split the orange so they would still be connected no matter how far apart they were. That in a show with pretty heavy-handed symbolism of physically/emotionally abusive fathers and cycles, the kids are never, ever shown to be afraid of Stede, that when they play together they're all happy, that Stede says he loves them even though they were asleep and didn't hear it, and that the one time they physically touch, it's Alma reaching out to tug Stede's hair in a playful way, and he responds in kind. That Stede breaks the cycle of emotionally distant and abusive fathers by A. Not belittling them ever and B. Leaving when he realized his presence was making things worse.

Tl;dr Stede Bonnet is objectively a bad dad, but he still loves his kids.

#idk im having feelings #and im very willing to be wrong on this and hear other opinions #but yeah stede as a dad gets to me #ofmd #stede bonnet #alma bonnet #louis bonnet

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hadesisonlyalad · 1 year ago

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yk i dont post a lot on tumblr but we all saw that red flags post so im gonna take a moment of ur time to say something on each merc and the red flags listed for them. im doing a read more incase u havent seen the “mercs red flags” headcanon post and it does not flood ur page

both the medic and engie things with “not wanting to spend time with you/wont make time for you” is SUCH bullshit if that was the case they wouldnt even date you. and then ur telling me engie tf2, DELL CONAGHER, would NEVER want to take you on a date? like ever??? u are INSANE. And then sorry to tackle medic and engie in the same paragraph but they had a lot of common “””””red flags””””” that were listed. why would he yell at you. he hardly even yells in general (based off comics and voice lines) if anything hes just kinda a loud person 💀 AND YOU BRINGING UP ONE THING WONT MAKE HIM SUDDENLY IGNORE YOU FOR DAYS LIKE?? he KNOWS hes committing medical malpractice btw. he would not leave you for bringing that up he is WELL AWARE of what hes doing. and we see him CANONICALLY DISCIPLINE ARCHIMEDES IN MEET THE MEDIC, WHY WOULD HE TOLERATE HIS BIRDS ATTACKING YOU????

also why are we listing an addiction as a “red flag” what the fuck is wrong with you. i get not wanting to date someone with an addiction, its a valid concern, but thats SO much more serious than a “red flag” or “ick”??? LIKE ARE YOU OKAYYYY???????

AND THEN HEAVY’S RED FLAG IS “he has trauma” FUCKING. PACK IT UP GUYS IG IF YOU HAVE TRAUMA YOU CAN NEVER BE IN A RELATIONSHIP. (/s) WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.

i’m fine with the miss pauling ones, at least two of them, because yeah, it’s canon that she doesn’t have the most time and i imagine if ur not a merc or work in that area a relationship might be a bit hard? but shes an honest person, i don’t think she’s gonna lie to you. idk im very neutral about the pauling ones, if anything theyre the most in character of this shithole list.

all i have to say for pyro is like. yk those people who hc pyro as aroace except theyre super weird about it? like theyre either infantilizing them or have weird ableist feelings about pyro? yeah thats the vibes im getting. actually wait where did u pull codependent pyro from actually wtf

i think the “tryna live like hes 20” thing for spy is really fucking funny 💀 like go girl go live through that middle age crisis!!/j no but seriously. hes dating you hes gonna think you’re a 10, and even then YOU’RE SAYING IF YOU AGE AT ALL HE’LL LEAVE YOU??? CANON MILF LOVER SPY. “OFF TO VISIT YOUR MOTHER!” SPY TF2. WILL LEAVE YOU IF YOU GET OLD AND AGE AT ALL…? HE LIKES HIS WOMEN LIKE HE LIKES HIS WINE MOTHERFUCKER: AGED. sorry bad joke lets keep going uh- i think the other hcs are garbage too i just really hate specifically this spy hc. just this one specifically.

im not a sniper connoisseur, my friend will is way better versed in sniper’s characterization, but even i know this isnt sniper. “thinks if he argues long enough he’ll win”…? “cannot support you in anything”?!!?! “IF YOU’RE HIS FRIEND AND YOU TWO GET INTO A BAD ARGUMENT PREPARE TO NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN” IM GENUINELY AT A LOSS FOR WORDS. I JUST. I DONT..? WHAT DO I EVEN SAY. I DONT K N O W WHAT TO SAY. BUT IF I DID KNOW WHAT TO SAY I’D BE SAYING VERY BAD THINGS.

i dont think scout is misogynistic- i see why people think that but me personally i just think he has no game and people mistake it as violent misogyny for some reason. but. listen we know scout is a dick we do okay but he loves women. why would he cheat on you.? bro he’d be glad u picked him 😭 AND THEN THE PERIOD THING?? he was raised by a SINGLE MOM do you REALLY think shes gonna raise him and let him think that way about a natural body function. im speaking entirely from the single mom experience and the answer is NO!!!! also how is loving your mother a red flag. being the youngest child is also a red flag, i guess. and having issues with his dad. (/s) also, second verse same as the first: IF HES DATING YOU HE THINKS YOU’RE A 10 WHAT IS SO HARD TO FUCKING GET ABOUT THISHXWHBVWBWBXvqvsbs?1?2!2’wndjwke

uhhh soldier wasnt. here for some reason. so nothing to say about him.

anyway leave ur opinions below. i rly dont wanna get into any tumblr drama or internet drama at all bc it scares me dearly and im always self conscious about leaving a bad digital footprint especially over something as petty as tf2 drama but i cannot stand for this slander I CANNOT‼️‼️‼️‼️ sorry if u also think im mischaracterizing anyone here i only put hours of studying into my fav mercs and thats. abt it,, listen im silly okay

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #heavy tf2 #engineer tf2 #scout tf2 #spy tf2 #soldier tf2 #pyro tf2 #demo tf2 #tf2 demoman #ms pauling #sniper tf2 #medic tf2 #guys im going insane #i hate this fucking red flags post im so sorry i had to let it be known #reblog or comment ur opinions ig im also curious

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satocidal · 2 years ago

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𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ Unfortunately, Yours

↳ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Episode 2:-

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Synopsis: It is when the birth right is snatched from your hands that your eyes truly ever open—especially when it’s always been there, right in your grasp. The Throne was yours, that was the truth promised and yet- yet your fate lay sealed with a certain Gojo. With an arranged marriage set in plan, alongs sets the plan of murder—within a wife who wants the throne and a husband who wants nothing but power, but suffers with them the present and the future of other two—especially when the lies of the past start surfacing.

— Word count: 3.5k

— A/n: First things first, I’m so glad you guys like the first one because ajahkahaka the comments? So lovely. Second, this chapter is ig has…more depth? Idk lmao and and I’m kind of confused to as how you guys would like the fic—Royal and 18th century based? Or Royal and 21st century based?

— Warnings: Gojo shames reader for being virgin; mentions of cameras; illegal filming; reader is naked and gojo is partially naked; just gojo being a jerk here tbh<3

The ride back home was quiet- slow, heavy.

Two ends of the car, the two doors you two sat by- separated in between with all that was to be offered. Fingers played with the hem of your gown- you hadn’t shed a single tear, all spent already—while your sister let out a few, your mother none and your maids all too many.

The music your driver played was slow, a decent hum you supposed- he seemed a talkative man at that too-“I must say, M’lady, if allowed,” he paused and you eyed him, “It’s a blessing to have you as our bride,”

Our.

The word somehow found its way around you all the time—‘our daughter’, your family had said- ‘and now ours’, the Gojos had responded.

A gift passed hand to hand.

You smiled, “The pleasure’s all mine sir,” you smiled kindly—hands grip tightening on the bouquet beside you.

The rest of the ride was no more a blur than your wedding, it was late—exhausting.

Your eyes zoomed past the many trees, the road- a hefty conversation about taxes the driver initiated with Satoru—you couldn’t care less.

But you did care about him.

A certain charm he’d carried, a certain flair to it—just something and a lot of it too. You very wary, yes, Father had taught you better than this- he wasn’t honest. And you guessed, never would be, not for the longest time at least.

But you couldn’t help it- a moth to a flame and yet you watched as the wax that tipped away.

You were however sure of one thing, your plan- the perfect little plan crafted along the counts of the gazillion stars- he wouldn’t let it be that simple.

But enough we’re the thoughts of a man that wasn’t to be yours, enough thoughts of a man you weren’t supposed to know much of—enough to let your eyes wander back at the white haired man—your husband.

The car halted just then- you were there, the Gojo Mansion—your home- no, your house.

Shy glances spared, a lick of the lips- you could taste your sister’s lip gloss still, strawberry —you weren’t sure what it was called- you never cared enough.

Satoru stepped out himself—you paused, not sure if he’d open the door for you—Father always did.

You waited and waited, his silhouette never moved so the Driver did—a kind man, you presumed him to be. With the gown a heavy set and shoes that bled your ankles anyways you stepped into the chilly night—the mansion, a dream, a ghost.

It was dark, the mansion built secluded- garden, large; a fountain resided in it too- unnecessary, you mused—a fence and a couple 100 guards— white, marble, orthodox. Your eyes narrowed- the moon was bright that night- the mansion reflected it beautifully. You despised it.

Yours was the last to arrive, the other cars parked outside- of course, formalities and lies, smiles and frowns- weddings.

Your mother-in-law, she rode the blue—The Gojo colour the tabloids had called it- now yours too.

Suguru rode in black- it was his, always. Up until your wedding, Satoru rode it too but as traditions went, Satoru’s new colour was White.

Yours and his.

Reflective, pensive, beautiful and pure.

“Come,” he ushered you inside finally- but you were already there, no? In there house- a month ago itself.

He was never around when you dropped by, calculated of course- shy smiles and elegant touches, you’d never gotten so close as to see his room- you were grateful but mothers, his and yours, they were persuasive enough.

You walked quietly beside him, equals, the law had defined you now. Equal footing.

Satoru Gojo didn’t bother much, or at all and you realised the first night of your wedding, none of the Gojos did. The first step inside was hollow, quiet, empty. The living room a dark hall and the pictures- a display of what these people could be in front of cameras.

His footsteps were heavy, your gown heavier, and your heart.

A thud you heard behind you- Suguru came to your vision, his smile first.

“Suguru,” you murmured, eyes seeking after Satoru instantly, you felt lost.

“M’lady,” he grinned, chills danced along your spine—“Satoru,” he nodded towards his best friend—“Glad to see you’ve reached safely- I’d be worried had something happened to either of you,” only the faint light in the corner lit up the room- cynical- your eyes narrowed.

“I’d have hoped it would,” exhausted was he? Perhaps, you supposed for he didn’t even care enough to hide his desperation, his frustration of the wedding- your eyes narrowed further.

“Why Suguru,” you reciprocated his gaunt smile, “We have your blessings on us, and the family’s right? Nothing could ever…” you let your words trail away, you stood vulnerable—not a single weapon in hand, you’d felt naked all night.

“Nothing of course,” he nodded, reassuringly- reassuring himself.

A cough- sudden, Satoru’s—“Come,” he repeated, leading the way this time, finally to his room—and just something in you hardened; nervous, you followed him.

You stood there, quiet in his room—unsure.

A month had gone in the preparation—the wedding, your stances, your elegance, your beauty. A month to perfect your youth and yet not a single person crept in to tell you of what was, perhaps, the most important part, at least it seemed to be.

Your husband was gone a decent 15 minutes, you stood there blankly—would he do it? Your heart raced.

Has he done it before? Why, of course he must have. But pity befell you all together, a life time spent in living after your father’s potential, all that was yours was gone. Privacy and curiosity of self—gone.

The bathroom door snapped open, sudden, your eyes rushed on to it—hands clammy and beats, faster—his brows raised.

“What are you doing?”

You didn’t know.

Silence you offered him—a hand raking through his wet hair he responded with—a bathe, you realised he’d taken.

But evident it was, with his black sweatpants and dark blue shirt, oversized even for him—the one Suguru had gifted him years ago draped over his body, a towel resting upon his shoulders.

“Sorry,” you muttered quietly, “the luggage confused me,” you lied through your teeth—embarrassing was the fact you’d stood all straight, unmoving in his thoughts and yours.

He hummed—“Strip,” his voice a command, your eyes watched him slowly.

“What,” you mumbled—not believing him—not wanting to believe him.

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t act like you’ve never…” he paused, a brow raising, “Have you ever?”

You found yourself shaking your head—face warming up and embarrassment flooding you.

You weren’t truly sure what you’d have expected of him—not compassion, no—but then… a chuckle was not quite it.

“You’ve never had sex?” And all too suddenly, his voice sounded ten times louder—and an immeasurable times cockier—“A prude, aren’t ya? Bet you are,” he grinned- your heart sank.

You bit your lip, the gown and it’s accessories digging into your plush skin—uncomfortable you stood your ground.

“Kissed? You must’ve kissed someone?” You felt your voice get shaky even when you hadn’t spoken a word- your silence, he presumed to be denial.

Another chuckle—your eyes were moist.

“Oh bless my heart,” he chuckled, “I scored myself a virgin Hm?” Amused- he found you amusing, a toy.

You wanted to fight back- you wanted to shout, scream but when tears streaked your face, because you knew they would, you were unsure to how serious he’d deem you.

A silence enveloped the two of you as he let himself get comfortable on his bed- his- “Tell me darling,” he purred, “Ever touch yourself? Or waited your Daddy to teach you that too?”

Your face downturned- it didn’t show him your baffled expression- you were hurt, raged, saddened, a mess.

“Shut it,” you whispered- he laughed.

“You really were daddy’s princess Hm?” He’d gotten up now, so did his impeding pace- “So, gonna strip for me now darlin’?”

Only your disgusted eyes met him- “you’re pathetic,” you rasped- feet worked fast to move away- your night suit grabbed, the new one, the one your mother packed forcefully and how wished she’d have helped you through this too—your door locked.

The light in the dressing was low—it could’ve been better, you made a mental note to have it changed too, your hefty hands craft fully took off your gown- heart aching, mind a mess and gasping for space.

Your fingers slowly took off everything, everything but the ring remained — vouched at least to not be throw away on the night of your union; a steady rhythm of “don’t cry” repeating in your mind.

You sighed- eyes not daring to look at yourself once in the mirror—ashamed you continued, exhausted limbs slowly carried upon your form the silk suit. Your eyes landed upon your makeup, your hair—you weren’t very sure on the process of getting it off, you tried your best.

The hair was left as is, too afraid you were to tangle it and the make up drained by the clog as you washed your face twice, any and every sign of your tears gone—you finally stepped out—Satoru was awake, hands that typed fast on his phone came to a halt.

The smirk, the boyish kind adorned him again—“Thought I told ya’ to strip princess,”

You didn’t reply, you didn’t want to- mayhaps you couldn’t.

You frowned shortly—“Wouldn’t want a manwhore like you to touch me,”

Voice all the more cocky, “You should feel blessed darlin’”

His grin—his empty attempt of saving his reputation at your words was nothing short of unnerving- your jaw clenched.

You moved slowly towards his bed—about to climb in when—“What are you doing?”

You didn’t know. Was it some tradition you didn’t know- your mind ran fast—“wouldn’t wanna sleep with a man-whore either right?”

Silence—you licked your lips.

“But I’m generous sweety,” he chuckled, “the floor must be as comfortable as ever,” with that he nodded, lights switched off all too soon—indication of the end of the conversation.

And when all was said and done, your body found itself pressed on the hard ground — back aching, mind more so —heart broken already. Never expected your marriage to be great, you hadn’t but this certainly was not it.

A tear fell down your eye, this time a loud sob too- you weren’t ashamed anymore, not in the presence of man you didn’t care about you whatsoever. Eyes red and pillow wet by them too—you slowly drifted to slumber unwanted.

In moments such for you guessed there were more to come, you hated him.

The morning was bleak, the morning was shy.

“Morning,” a voice chirped- your fingers moved to grab your blade- none to be found, in fact now that your consciousness lay awake , you realised you weren’t laying on the ground you slept on.

A duvet wound around you and a pillow under your head—tears dry and measly.

“Morning,” you rasped—mind instantly drifting onto him—your plan—the mansion—“Sato’s practicing out there with Master Gojo,”

Eyes narrowed at her words—Sato?

Presumed to be her personal assistant, you looked up—mid 50s you assumed her age to be, short, rounded and pretty.

Humming to her words, you slowly got up—all too aware of her wandering eyes to your white bed sheets—meant to be painted red last night.

“How was the night?” Voice sweet, she chuckled quick—“Fine,” you replied and perhaps it was just fine in some sense of it.

She grinned at your words—brows you raised with an element of surprise when she handed you warm water, “For your throat baby,”

You nodded.

Your eyes followed her quietly as she shuffled around the room, working quick to gather Satoru’s daily attire—“He’s a good kid,” she said softly, “A little rough on the edge but you’ll be soon a part of him,” her smile was nice—you didn’t favour much, that which was considered nice.

You walked slowly around the bed—“You’ll go to meet him right?” An internal groan let out—you didn’t want to meet anyone, let alone him of all—mind too preoccupied with other thoughts as is.

“I’m not…” you paused, the excuse on the tip of your tongue, “uh- not freshened up,” a wholesome chuckle left her- you couldn’t help smile at her smile too.

“It’s not the fifties sweety,” she grinned, “I’m sure your husband can handle you in the morning after a decent night,” your face felt hot—your husband—his wife.

You nodded, a lick of the lips—“I’ll be there soon,”

She nodded now—“you know the way sweetcheeks?” Your heart warmed at her constant nicknames, “Yes…” your voice faltered, embarrassed slightly to not know the kind woman—“Kanao,” she smiled.

You smiled back.

Footsteps were oh so light as you walked, hair matted- shame left in that room as you walked- the simple art of walking, Father called it.

Walk along the hundred servants you did- half didn’t acknowledge you, half didn’t know you—and so you walked. The kitchen and then the garden—little cameras you’d planted everywhere, you smiled.

Intact.

A month since you’d begun your little charade—harmless really, in a way for you’d never release these videos—not unless it was necessary of course—it was self defence really.

5 in the kitchen and you had full knowledge of every cabinet and the rat poison’s the Gojos stored, the sharpness of each knife memorised; 3 in Kana Gojo’s bedroom—blackmail after all was taught to you hefty—your heart jumped at the letters she’d bring in the room, intel of yours knew the contents of all.

But only you did—not your father here nor your sister; this was your fight.

You’d checked every room you’d planted those cameras in—grateful to every lesson your Father implanted in your head—two room remained.

The dining and Your Father-in-law, Ginji’s—hand grasped onto the handle, you turned it—“M’lady?” You’d have jumped if not for a childhood spent in training your nerves—you smiled politely, confusion masking your expressions.

“Suguru,” you exclaimed—“This is the recreation room, yes?” Lies fell from your tongue sharp, easy.

His brows furrowed, “No?”

“No?” You mirrored his expressions—Father used to call you the perfect mime.

His brows raised—“That’s…Master Gojo’s Room?” Your pretence would’ve caught most, not him, but he smiled all the more—“Satoru’s down, here, let me take you,”

You knew he knew and you smiled just the same—“Yes please,”

Hands held behind his back, he walked swift—eyes downcast, whispers in his shadows—loud.

Suguru Geto, the assassin, some called him, the generous one—the others.

Neither shared a word until he finally halted, “Here it is,” door opened ajar—a slight scent of musk prevalent.

You peeked in—men and women alike—practicing all the same—no classes held, no power.

Sheer strength and agility.

Your eyes were quick to find him, towering most he stood—your eyes widened still, bare chested.

You’d seen men such all the time- Father trained you well after all, but those men weren’t supposed to be your husband- those men were different. Suguru seemed to have caught that still, a smirk plastered on his lips- “Most his girls have that reaction,”

Words mistaken, he realised quick, “My apologies M’lady,” eyes not daring to meet your amused expression- you chuckled, “I’m sure you have the same effect Suguru.” With that, you left him standing back, a smile on his face too.

Seduction lay at your finger tips—ironic was the fact; mastered weaponry in your other hand—result of nights and days spent crying in pain.

“Y/n,” a voice boomed loud—your father-in-law, you grinned, “Father,” you called him—as you had been for a month now.

“Here to watch the loser?” He laughed- always the chummy kind he was, “kind of here for the star of the show,” you wink at him, “Which is you of course,”

It was light hearted banter- a here and there which never mattered, he was different, far too different from your father.

“Why of course, but pray tell- is it today I get to set my eyes on your skills? I’ve heard much too praise to believe it,”

No.

Your smiled pursed—“If the King so orders My Lord,” you bowed your head slightly—words charming enough, “I’ve seen your mind Y/n,” he mused, “It’s beautiful,” no, it was dangerous- it was brilliant, you knew that.

“But the old heart craves to see the spin of your hand, the control on your swords—vicious, don’t they call you?”

A flick of the dagger embedded into your slip on gown—the one you’d hid quick from Suguru, the one you’d had crafted just for yourself, the one which was yours—a single swish and the King would be dead.

“My lord,” you bit your lips, “Are you sure the word was for your sweet daughter-in-law?” His laugh boomed again—“Humble Hm?”

You scoffed—“Dad,” face whipped to come to contact with Satoru, you looked away instantly, “You’ve got her blushing already kid?”

Lips bit you turned away slightly, fingers curled hard—“Wouldn’t want her showing you nothing today dad,” Satoru grinned as he sat down, a short breath exhaled as he sipped water, “Too sore after last night,” your face heated up at his comments- widening eyes stared at his hair.

Ginji merely chuckled away, leaving you two behind—“Loser,” Suguru mumbled, smacking his head—“Have some shame,” Suguru didn’t meet your eyes.

Interesting a man, you deemed him.

“My wife, my rules yeah?” Satoru stared at your feet—your eyes trained on his sweat lined shirt—riveting an action, he tickled your mind just a certain way.

You sat in his bed, it was tall- long- meant to suit his size, you felt small. Hands clasped onto your bath gown you waited for Satoru to get back, “Stay in the room,” his words seemed a warning then.

Satoru didn’t bother being nice anymore, he hadn’t at all even in the beginning but the facade was dropped all too soon as he pushed you into the room.

“Are you out of your damn mind?” His voice a whisper, sharp—“Why did you go out there?”

No issues traced your mind to your stepping outside—his tone enraging you all the more—never one to take unnecessary issues at hand, your forehead ticked, “I don’t see the issue dear husband,”

“Blinded by your own stupidity?” A smirk rested on his face quick- peculiar was the sudden change, “Alright whatever,” he scoffed, “Breakfat is a certain time,” —8:35 a.m., you had the time memorised—“they’ll expect you at the table by then,”

Eyes drifted to the clock, both of yours—it was 8:05 a.m.

“Let me go first,” not a request, more so a command.

He snorted—“Alright, here’s rule no. 1: never tell me what to do because I do not listen to the likes of you,”

Your jaw clenched— before you could add your own insult, he grinned—“Should’ve never stepped out of the room, should you baby? Tried at being a good little bride and actually done your job—prodding little bitch aren’t ya?”

Blood boiled inside you, hands curled into fists, tempted all too much to land a punch—“get out off my way,” through gritted teeth your words fell—never so patient with your own family.

A shake off his head had you regretting your own patience—“Two options,” he mused and turned around- entering the bathroom, ushering you outside still.

“Either you wait, have your privacy and ruin your first breakfast here or,” he eyed you softly, “bathe beside me. I won’t join you but you’ll have to do it within my presence,” all too sure if the fact that you’d never choose the later, he cackled.

The door almost locked at your face when you dropped your gown—naked you stood, his brows raised.

Fighting all urges to be embarrassed you stepped into the shower- eyes down cast, not a single attempt to hide your form—we are married now, you reminded yourself, we are one.

Satoru watched you amused for a second too long- eyes lingering and then swept away as if you didn’t matter, as if he didn’t care—your heart ached at the ignorance.

Shy hands lathered your own body, eyes drifting to his torso—your scars complimented his, you hated yours but his seemed so gorgeous.

Everything but his torso covered, yours naked—your eyes danced along his form, his never at you. The power play was simple.

Swift hands pulled the razor—he shaved quick, you washed your body faster, biting your lips when he didn’t spare a single glance back. You didn’t crave validation from most, Father was enough but these were matters beyond that- not a little girl you remained, someone’s wife. Heart raced at the thought of your naked form in front of him—in front of anyone for that matter.

A first for you, nth for him—you didn’t matter, your heart had presumed—never be pretty enough for him, you consoled. A heart begged for some recognition and you got none, a towel wrapped around you as you stepped outside—glad you were that hiding tears in the shower was easy a feat enough.

Satoru stood in—finally allowing himself to shower, the room scented of your perfume, your maids worked quick on your make up- your eyes laying bare, a new topic for their idle gossip.

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