#he's either BLANK FACE or FEELINGS ONSLAUGHT

[megvmins]

the best kisser awards (wind breaker edition)

warnings: spicy, mention of boobs but it's not specified, making out, hickeys

a/n: i'm probably going to write kissing/intimacy headcanons for all wind breaker characters but this is a little something that's been bouncing around in my head for days now. enjoy and lemme know what you think about it! 

notable mentions: 

KAJI: aggressive kisser. kisses like he won't see you for months as if you aren't joined at the hip. usually he crowds you against a wall and the few times your teeth knock together but kaji doesn't even register it as he licks into your mouth and bites your lover lip. somewhere in the middle of this intense make-out session the realization hits him and to hide his embarrassment his lips move down to your jaw and then neck where he sucks love bites with his ears burning bright red but he can't stop because the satisfaction of stepping away to see your absolutely dazed expression and purple-red marks down your neck to your collarbone is so worth it. 

UMEMIYA: he gives the most over-the-top big smack smooches ever and you can't change my mind. like hiragi can be minding his own business on top of the rooftop and you and ume are on the other side and he can hear when ume gives into his inner demons to just smother you with kisses. he's a big silly goof and he attempted few times to pull a cool move on you like holding your head up with two fingers because he read it in a book and he couldn't hold in his giggles at all. on the other side of the spectrum – eskimo kisses when he hugs you and hoists you higher so you're forced to look down at him and he ends up nuzzling his nose into yours. 

the big three under the cut!

#3 KIRYU: look me in the eyes and tell me this guys isn't the wolf in sheep's clothing. pulls you in for some cute and sweet kisses and suddenly his hand is on your chest just squeezing a boob. his only response to your surprise is a shrug of his shoulders and teasing smirk playing on his lips before he reconnects them with yours. just a big tease disguised as a cute little angel. just like kaji he ends up giving you hickeys – in the most conspicuous places and he has the audacity to smile at you innocently when you glare at him through a mirror while you attempt to cover them up.

#2 SUO: gentleman in the streets but a beast in the sheets. i believe he can be really intense once he gets more comfortable so he doesn't have to be so in control of his feelings but can let loose a bit. i can see a scenario of him being worn out from solving a lot of issues around the town and just coming to you with “can i kiss you?” like the gentleman he is but when you would naively think sure lemme give you a peck, instead he just puts his hands either side of your face and pulls you in for a deep and messy kiss that has you holding on to his shoulders for a dear life. afterwards he leaves you with a smile and kiss on the cheek like he didn't just make your legs feel like jello from a simple kiss.

#1 TOGAME: i am biased but hear me out. togame is such a teddy bear on the inside, truly a softie and when he's whipped he gets even more so. he'll just be staring at your face and constantly be thinking about giving you a smooch on your cheeks, nose, lips and forehead honestly anywhere. a lot of the times he doesn't mean for the innocent kisses to go into a heavy breathing make-out session but your lips are tempting him to keep coming for more and his mind goes blank and you have to literally pull on his hair for him to break away so you can breath as if your lips aren't sore from the onslaught. he only looks at you with half-lidded eyes and pulls you closer with a hand on the back of your neck.

[punkshort]

somewhere to run | 2. book club

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: An incident at the diner causes you to get shaken up, and Joel is there to help.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, mutual pining, PTSD type symptoms, flirting, jealousy, attempted robbery, reader gets mildly injured

WC: 6K

Series Masterlist

"So you see why it's so important you keep on top of your oil changes, yeah?" Mr. Connor finished saying as you set down his plate of waffles and sausage. You nodded enthusiastically while you filled up his coffee.

"I was never really any good at car stuff," you admitted, but he shook his head.

"If you take care of it, that car'll last you five more years and save you boatloads of money," he told you, wagging his finger. "You come by my shop any time and I'll take a look at that beater you're drivin', won't rip you off, either."

You laughed as you heard the bells above the door ring and Maria greet the next customer.

"I'll hold you to it," you said with a wink before turning to put the coffee back on the burner.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the familiar outline of a man settle into Joel's usual seat at the counter, and you felt the butterflies stir up in your stomach. You glanced up to make sure there wasn't any food getting cold in the window before pulling out your notepad and walking over. As you approached, you mentally braced yourself for the onslaught of his cologne, but as you got closer, you couldn't smell it. In fact, all you could smell was soap and maybe a faint hint of oil from his gun.

When you paused in front of him, the realization dawning on you, he glanced up from the menu with a smirk. A slow smile spread across your face when you looked him in the eye.

"Better?" was all he said, and you couldn't stop the giggle from escaping your lips.

"You didn't have to do that for me," you said, suddenly feeling bashful and looking down at your blank notepad.

"I know, but I wanted to," he said, leaning back and closing the menu. He didn't even know why he looked at it anymore, he knew it by heart already. "Thought maybe it'd make you stick around long enough for me to get to know you better."

You definitely felt your cheeks flare at that comment, and it must have been visible because Joel just grinned, clearly very pleased with himself.

"Where are you from?" he asked, determined to try to make some more progress with you today.

"Pennsylvania," you said, finally looking back up at him with a smile as you tapped your pen on the pad.

"Northerner," he said with feigned disgust. "And what brought you all the way to Texas?"

"The incredible job opportunity, isn't it obvious?" you said, and he laughed. A real laugh, one you hadn't heard before, and it did something to you. Uh oh.

"You're funny," Joel said, almost as if he were saying it to himself. You grinned and decided to steer the conversation in a different direction: away from you.

"What about you? Have you lived here your whole life?"

"Born and raised," Joel said with a nod. "Our pop used to be the town sheriff, before he passed 'bout ten years back or so."

"So, you followed in your father's footsteps?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Suppose I did," he told you, leaning forward. "But can I tell you a secret?"

You hummed and leaned forward as well, trying to bite back your smirk.

"Kinda wishin' now I was the one who bought this place instead of my brother," he said quietly and so close to your ear that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Still leaning in, you dropped your voice to match his and said "then who would stop those teenagers from drawing phallic images on street signs?"

He laughed again, the same deep, throaty laugh as before, and you felt your stomach clench at the sound.

"You heard that, huh?" he asked, smiling and leaning back. You shrugged.

"Lee isn't as quiet as he thinks," you told him. You wanted to say you had to learn early on to eavesdrop, that listening and anticipating danger became second nature to you, but you caught yourself.

"Howdy, brother," you heard Tommy's voice boom from somewhere behind you. You took the opportunity to sneak away and check on your other customers while they talked, but you made sure to set Joel up with coffee before heading towards the other end of the counter, his eyes trailing after you and staring a moment too long on your bare legs.

"You givin' her the business?" Tommy asked, nodding in your direction, and Joel nearly choked on his coffee. Tommy raised his eyebrows.

"She's, uh... she's a nice girl," Joel finally managed to get out after wiping his mouth with a napkin.

"He's got the hots for her," Betty whispered to Tommy as she ambled by. Joel cleared his throat loudly and gave her a stern look, but she just laughed and kept walking.

"Oh, Joel, I'm beggin' you, don't screw this up for me. She's a real good waitress, I don't wanna lose her - "

"Would you keep it down?" Joel whispered, his eyes darting around to make sure you weren't within earshot. "I ain't gonna screw anythin' up for anyone, don't worry. She's just... nice."

"'Nice'," Tommy repeated, clearly not buying it. He was about to say more, but Joel straightened up in his seat and averted his gaze, trying to wordlessly warn him you were heading over.

"Sorry to interrupt. Are you ready, Joel?" you asked him, your pen and paper in hand. He looked up at you and it was hard to fight the goofy look on his face now that you didn't regard him with such disdain.

"Yeah, sure. Let's put this guy to work, huh?" Joel said, pointing to Tommy, and you giggled. Behind you, Tommy rolled his eyes. Nice.

Joel told himself he was only allowed to think about you on his walk back to the station after lunch. You had told Betty you weren't interested in dating anybody at the moment, but he could wait. He wondered if he could change your mind, if he could make you come around to the idea of being with him, or at least give him a chance. You definitely seemed much warmer towards him today. He must have been wrong yesterday, you really must be sensitive to smells if all it took was for him to stop using that obnoxious cologne Sarah got him that he felt too guilty to throw away.

"Hey boss, how was lunch?" asked Bobby, the town's deputy and Joel's right hand man.

"Good. Anythin' goin' on here?" Joel asked, shrugging off his blazer and hanging it on the coat rack outside his office.

"Not much. I was 'bout to let Ollie outta the drunk tank. His wife was callin', askin' after him," Bobby said before rising to his feet with a groan. Although the man was ten years younger than Joel, his joints seemed to be ten years older.

Joel glanced at the time on his watch with a nod.

"Yeah, go ahead. Third time this month, though. Next time it happens, I'm keepin' him longer."

"Alrighty," Bobby said over his shoulder as he pulled the keys from his pocket and headed back towards lockup.

Joel sighed and began flipping through the papers littering his desk before giving up and leaning back in his chair to stare out the front window, watching people as they walked past. Before he could stop himself, his mind had already wandered back to thoughts of you, and it took him five whole minutes and Ollie's hungover ramblings to snap him out of it.

Maybe Sarah would want to get pizza for dinner.

It was nearly seven at night as you made your way back home from work, your feet aching and your head throbbing. At the very least, it was a cool, summer night. The breeze was enjoyable and the sun was still peeking out just enough to keep your skin pleasantly warm. All you could think about was getting home and running a bath to soak your sore muscles. It had been a long time since you held a job, let alone a job that kept you as active as this one.

Patrick didn't like the idea of you working. When he first suggested you quit your job and stay at home, you thought it was sweet. You took it to mean he wanted to provide for you so you could relax and be a homemaker, maybe even a mom one day. But after a few months, you quickly realized he just didn't want you around other people, or more specifically, other men. Without even knowing it, you trapped yourself at home without a lifeline, and it was exactly what he wanted.

Even though you were sore now, you felt good. You were taking care of yourself. Providing for yourself. And you never felt more proud.

You were juggling your keys, trying to find the right one that opened the door to the sidewalk, when you heard a familiar voice exit the pizza place.

"Well, look who it is," you heard Joel say, and you let the keys dangle at your side as you turned around with a smile.

"Evening, Joel," you replied, your eyes quickly drifting down his body. It was the first time you had seen him in casual clothes. Every other time you ran into him, he was in his work uniform, which usually consisted of some type of suit. But tonight, he was wearing dark blue jeans and a beige button up shirt with short sleeves. As he strolled over to you, balancing a pizza box in his hand, your eyes were immediately drawn to the way the muscles in his arms strained against the fabric of the shirt, making your mouth go dry.

"Tommy finally let you leave, huh?" he joked, and you had to remind yourself to laugh, your mind still too fixated on the way he looked in that shirt.

"Dad?" you heard a girl's voice call behind him, and you both turned your attention towards the voice. You remembered your brief interaction at the pharmacy and realized that she must be Sarah. Her eyes flickered from you to Joel, then back to you, clearly waiting for Joel to introduce you, but he seemed frozen in place. So, you stretched out your arm and introduced yourself with a smile, which she reciprocated.

"You look familiar," she said, tilting her head to the side the same way her dad did.

"I think I saw you at the pharmacy a couple days ago," you reminded her, and she snapped her fingers.

"That's what it is," she said, giving you another smile. "Are you working for Uncle Tommy?" she asked, looking at Joel again, who was still standing there, unmoving, watching the two of you interact. She frowned slightly at him, picking up on his strange reaction as well, before giving you her attention again.

"Yeah, at the diner. He hired me earlier this week, brand new," you told her, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet. Joel's silence was deafening at this point and starting to make you uncomfortable, so you held up your keys and pointed to the door.

"I won't keep you guys. It was great to meet you, Sarah," you said with a wave, but before you could turn towards the door, she stopped you.

"Why don't you join us?" she asked, shooting Joel a mischievous look as if she finally realized the reason for his behavior.

"Oh, no, that's so nice of you, but I'm just gonna jump in the bath and go to bed, it's been a long day," you replied. Joel's body stiffened next to you when you announced your plans.

Finally, he managed to clear his throat and speak.

"We'd love to have you join us, we were just gonna grab a picnic table out back," he said, and you swore his cheeks looked a little pinker than usual.

You were struggling to find another polite way to turn down their offer when he added "c'mon, why don't you lemme serve you for a change?"

Sarah smiled as she watched the two of you. She couldn't wait to tease her dad about it in the car later.

"Alright," you said slowly, lowering your keys once again. Joel's face broke out in a huge grin before leading you and Sarah down the short alley to the small courtyard behind the building, where there were a few picnic tables and string lights draped overhead.

"Are you sure I'm not intruding?" you asked again, and they both vehemently shook their heads.

"No way," Sarah said, licking the sauce off her fingers after she picked up her piece from the box. "It's nice to have another girl around for a change."

"Sarah," Joel said warningly under his breath.

"I just mean it's nice to hear about something else other than work and football," she said to him with a grin, and he rolled his eyes, choosing to sit on your side of the table instead of hers.

"So, you live above the pizza place? That seems pretty cool. Pizza whenever you want," she said, covering her mouth as she spoke. You swallowed your food before responding.

"Yeah, it is pretty convenient. And they actually have good pizza," you said. "I think I'm finally getting used to the smell."

Joel's knee accidentally knock against yours under the table and you had to fight the urge to jump away, the contact startling you.

Sarah asked the same questions everyone in this small town inevitably asked you when you first met: where are you from and why are you here? The first question was easy, the second one always gave you pause. It wasn't until Sarah asked that Joel suddenly realized you never really answered him when he asked the same question earlier that day, so he stopped chewing to pay attention.

"Just looking for a change," you said with a shrug, taking another bite of pizza. Sarah considered your answer for a moment before following up.

"Have you ever been here before?"

"Nope."

"So you just got in your car and ... drove?"

"Kind of," you said with a nervous laugh. Joel frowned slightly.

"That's so cool," Sarah said, a smile stretching across her face. "Dad, doesn't that sound so cool?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod, finally joining the conversation. "Do you got family down south or anythin'?"

"Uh, no," you said, shaking your head. "Just always heard it was nice down here so I thought I would see for myself."

"You think you're here for good, then?" he asked, his voice a little more hopeful than he wanted to come across.

"That's the plan," you said to him with a smile.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Sarah asked out of the blue, and your eyes darted back to her in surprise.

"No," you replied slowly, heat creeping up your neck and guilt dancing in the back of your head while Joel hid his grin behind his pizza. "Do you?" you deflected, raising your eyebrows at her with a smirk, and she giggled, shaking her head.

"You better not," Joel said, and the two of you laughed.

Over the rest of the hour, you listened to Joel and Sarah crack jokes and argue over what movie they would end up watching later that night and you felt the smile slowly begin to slip from your face as you came to the sobering realization that the type of dynamic they had, one that was so obviously built on love and trust, was something you never truly experienced before. It wasn't just something you saw in the movies or read in books. People in the real world actually got to experience it, and you couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Why not you? What did you ever do to receive the type of life you got?

After parting ways and thanking them over and over for dinner, you finally headed upstairs and collapsed on your small sofa. You untucked your work shirt and unzipped your skirt, but that was as far as you got, exhaustion winning the fight.

You closed your eyes and wished you had the energy to get up and run a bath, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it yet. Instead, you let your mind wander, imagining a life where you could call out to someone who cared for you in the other room and ask them to run the water. Maybe they would surprise you and light a few candles and mix in some soothing bubble bath. You knew that would never happen. You could never let yourself be honest enough with anybody to allow them into your life, but it didn't stop you from wishing for it, anyway. And right before you drifted off to sleep, you imagined that certain somebody had dark brown eyes and soft curls on the top of his head that you were itching to run your fingers through.

As hard as you tried to keep to yourself, the town was very small, and eventually you found it was nearly impossible to keep from making connections with people. Whether it was through work at the diner or striking up a conversation with someone at the store, you were quickly becoming interwoven in the lives of the people who graciously accepted you as one of their own.

You were particularly becoming fast friends with the girl who worked the register at the pizzeria below your apartment. Her name was Hailey and she was a couple years younger than you, but you had a lot in common, one of which was a shared taste in the same movies and books, so you were excited when she invited you to join a book club she and a couple other women in town started. As much as you enjoyed talking about books, you found you also very much enjoyed listening to all the town gossip that inevitably came out after everyone had their first glass of wine.

"So, Nikki, did I hear Sam asked you out on a date?" an older woman named Martha asked. Nikki blushed when the group turned to her, some women poking her in the side and others murmuring excitedly under their breath.

"Yeah, but it's not a big deal," Nikki said, flicking her long, dark hair over her shoulder. She looked to be a little older than you were but it was hard to guess her age.

"Not back in town for two weeks and she's already got a date," Hailey said, rolling her eyes next to you playfully. "Some girls got all the luck."

"Oh, stop it," she chided with a smirk, then paused as if she were rethinking her next statement before blurting out "kind of wish someone else woulda asked me out instead."

That got the whole group's attention, even your own, and you barely had any idea who most of these people were. But you supposed any amount of gossip paired with alcohol is good gossip.

"Oh, please, you don't gotta say it, we all know who you've been chasin' after all these years," another woman chimed in with a giggle. Fortunately, you weren't the only person in the dark.

"Who?" Hailey asked, leaning forward eagerly.

"Joel, obviously," the other woman replied, and while the rest of the group groaned, everyone tossing in their two cents and offering up their favorite things about him, you remained frozen in your chair, blood running cold.

"Lord, he came into school last week to pick up Sarah, and the way his ass looked in those jeans..."

"Did I ever tell you about the time I nearly slipped on the ice and he caught me? Had to go to confession the next day..."

"... and I swear, I've considered committing a crime just so he would throw those handcuffs on me..."

"I don't know how that man has been single for so long..."

Part of you wanted to laugh at some of the things the women were saying about Joel, but the other part of you felt hot and angry. You wanted to scream shut up, don't think about him like that, don't even look at him. And through your alcoholic haze, you realized you were jealous. Jealous of all of these women, young and old, barking out comments about the town sheriff you had no business feeling jealous over.

The next day when he came into the diner for lunch, your head was still swirling with all of the comments the women in town made the day before. Distracted, you dropped your pen and pad on the ground as you made your way over to greet him, cursing under your breath.

Joel grinned when you finally approached, looking every bit as frazzled as you felt.

"Tough day?"

"Huh? Oh," you said nervously, tucking your hair behind your ear and shaking your head. "N-no, not really. Well, maybe - shit," you said when you knocked over a box of straws with your fidgeting.

Joel laughed and leaned back in his chair.

"What's got you all worked up?" he asked, and you felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Nothing," you said, shaking your head again, trying to focus. "What can I get for you?"

"Nuh uh, darlin', not so fast," he said with a tsk, and you sighed. "What's goin' on? You can tell me, y'know. I am a man of the law."

He meant it to be playful, but with your history, it had the opposite effect. You winced and swallowed the lump in your throat, and trying not to make matters worse, you caved.

"I went to a book club last night," you mumbled, and he raised his eyebrows.

"Book club, huh? Sounds like fun," he said, watching you carefully. "Maybe had a little too much fun?"

You finally dragged your gaze up to meet his and saw he was grinning at you, and you managed to force out a small laugh.

"Yeah, you could say that," you said, hoping that would be enough, but he wouldn't let it go.

"Can you get me a coffee? Then when I get back from the restroom, I wanna hear all 'bout your little book club," he said with a wink, then stood from his chair and turned around, heading towards the bathrooms while your gaze landed on his ass. It didn't look too bad in dress pants, either.

You tried to steady your breathing while you flipped over a clean mug and filled it with coffee, your mind racing and wondering what lies you could come up with to prevent telling him the reason you were so distracted.

Lost in thought with your head down, you didn't even notice when another customer took a seat at the counter until the man cleared his throat. You glanced up and apologized before bending down to grab another mug and set it down in front of the stranger.

You were pouring his coffee and telling him about the specials, your eyes glued to the counter, when he slid the barrel of a pistol across the table and into your line of sight. You froze, your hands gripping the coffee pot fiercely as you broke out into a cold sweat. You flicked your eyes back up to him. He didn't appear to be much older than you. He had his unkept hair hidden underneath his black hoodie, and you noticed his eyes looked bloodshot, his skin clammy. You knew that look. You've seen that same look one too many times.

"What do you want?" you whispered, your voice shaking.

"Open the register, gimme all the cash in this bag," he said quietly, tossing a tote bag across the counter at you. You nodded, grabbing the bag while your fingers fumbled with the buttons, desperately trying to remember how to open the drawer without a sale. You could sense he was growing frustrated with how long it was taking, and you felt the tears welling up in your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you sobbed quietly. "I-I'm new, I can't remember-"

"Hurry the fuck up," he growled, and you blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision, the tears falling down your cheeks.

"Drop the fuckin' gun, Marcus," you heard Joel's voice call out, and a wave of relief coursed through your body. But Marcus got startled, and instead of doing as he was told, reached across the counter and grabbed you by the throat, pulling you against his chest to partially shield his body, the gun pressed against your temple as your fingers clawed at his arms.

You couldn't move. You couldn't breathe. Tears just streamed down your face as you locked eyes with Joel. They no longer carried that playful glint, his lips no longer turned up into a grin. His brow was furrowed deep and his gun drawn, cradled expertly in his large palms as his eyes shifted back to Marcus.

"I'm not lookin' to hurt anyone, sheriff. Just lemme walk outta here," Marcus rumbled behind you, his sour breath invading your nostrils and making your stomach roll.

"Now, you know I can't do that," Joel said, taking a small step forward. "But put down the gun, let her go, and we'll talk."

The grip around your throat tightened and you let out a small, pained squeak. Joel's jaw clenched when he heard the noise, his patience running thin. You hadn't noticed at the time, but the entire diner had gone quiet, some patrons slinking down in their seats, others craning their necks to get a better look.

"Goddamnit, Marcus, don't test me today," Joel growled, his eyes ablaze. "I don't wanna call your mama and tell her I had to spray her only son's brains all over the floor, but I fuckin' will." The tone in Joel's voice sent a shiver down your spine as you stilled, waiting for the stand off to be over.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the grip on your throat loosened and you no longer felt the cold metal pressed against your head. Joel locked eyes with you again as you coughed and shakily fell down to the floor behind the counter, curling yourself into a ball while you heard Joel reading Marcus his rights, the jingle of his handcuffs rang like bells in your ears.

Once Marcus was restrained, you heard Tommy bolt out of the kitchen and rush over to you. He knelt down on the ground, asking if you were okay, if you needed a doctor, concern lacing his voice but when he reached out to touch you, you flung yourself backwards violently, knocking the back of your head against the counter.

"Shit," you muttered, rubbing your head as fresh tears fell down your cheeks.

"Hey, easy now," Tommy said soothingly, glancing over the counter as Joel spoke on the phone with Bobby, ordering him to bring a car to take Marcus back to the station and book him.

"I'm fine," you whimpered, still rubbing your head as you shakily forced yourself to your feet. You watched as Joel marched Marcus to the front of the diner, his knuckles white from how hard he was gripping his shoulder as he directed him through the door. A few patrons clapped weakly as the two disappeared outside, and the diner filled with excited chatter once again.

"You alright, sugar?" Betty asked, suddenly appearing beside you, face etched with worry. You flinched and brought a shaky hand to your sore neck.

"Yeah, I just need to use the restroom," you said, and before anyone could say anything further, you tore off your apron and made a beeline for the women's room.

You locked the door behind you and slid down to the grimy floor, burying your face in your hands as you sobbed, the adrenaline wreaking havoc on your nerves.

It was too much. It was all too much. The look in Marcus's eye was one you saw too many times. A junkie in desperate need for a fix. A drunk who would say or do anything for another drink. The fingers around your neck were no longer there, but you still felt them squeezing every last bit of oxygen from your lungs, every tear from your eye until you could hardly breathe.

The door handle jiggled and you jumped, wiping furiously at your face before shouting out a shaky occupied!

"Hey, it's me," you heard Joel's voice say from the other side of the door. No longer did he have that hardened edge to his tone. The warmth and softness in his drawl had returned.

"I just need a minute," you said quietly after a long silence, and you heard him shift his weight.

"I know, but I - can you let me in?" he asked, and you could hear the concern in his voice. You slid your eyes shut as fresh tears drenched your face once again. You ached for comfort. You wanted it so badly you would do just about anything for it. But every other time, you've been let down. Over and over and over again.

"I just need a minute," you repeated, just a whisper, not even sure he could hear.

"Then I'll be right here til you're ready, alright?" his voice came back, even softer this time. You nodded, even though he couldn't see you. You heard him sit down against the door with a tired sigh, and you let your head tilt so it rested against the door. There was a small bit of comfort to be had when you knew only an inch separated you from him.

"You were real brave," he said after a few minutes of silence. You scoffed and wiped your nose.

"Is that why I'm crying on the floor of a bathroom?"

"Please don't cry," he said, his voice strained. But you didn't say anything in return.

"He wasn't gonna do nothin'. He's got troubles, is all. Bad habits get the best of him, but he's harmless," he said, trying to make you feel better.

"I don't know, these bruises on my neck say differently," you replied, and you heard his breath hitch. Then you heard his shoes scuff on the tile floor.

"Lemme see," he said, his voice firmer now. He was standing, his voice above you, waiting to be let in. You hesitated, the tone of his voice putting you on edge, but you knew you couldn't hide in there forever. With a trembling hand, you reached up and unlocked the door, then scurried backwards so you were pressed up against the opposite wall as he swung the door open and stepped inside. His gaze fell on you and his eyes went soft at seeing your wrecked state before clicking the door shut behind him.

He rushed forward and you flinched. A bad habit of your own. He paused and slowed his movements, crouching down in front of you instead. He lifted a hand to pinch your chin but you turned your face away.

"Will you show me?" he asked gently. You gazed up at him with red rimmed eyes, your knees pulled tight against your chest. Finally, you lifted your chin. Again, he reached a hand out, but you stopped him.

"Please don't touch," you whispered. He looked at you and nodded slowly, dropping his hand again, examining your bruises with only his eyes.

"Maybe you should see a doctor," he said after a few minutes, but you shook your head.

"I'll be fine, it's just sore," you said, and his gaze flicked up from your throat to your eyes. His lips parted the longer he stared at you, and you felt the tremor return to your hands. You couldn't look away, his gaze too magnetic.

"Don't like seein' you cry," he murmured, still gazing deep into your eyes, trying so desperately to read you.

"I cry all the time," you said without even thinking. He blinked and frowned. He was about to say something else when a gentle knock on the door interrupted him.

"You okay in there?" Maria called out. You sighed and stretched out your legs, standing up and waving off Joel's helping hand.

"We don't gotta do it today, but I'll need you to come by and give your statement sometime soon," he said, glancing down at you with a sympathetic look.

"Okay," you replied, your voice cracking a bit. You looked at one another, both of you wanting to say more but neither of you could. So you reached out to open the door, forcing a smile for Maria.

"Sorry," you told her meekly, and she laughed.

"You're sorry? You just had a gun pointed at your head and you're sorry?"

You laughed weakly, then stopped short in pain, your fingers brushing against your throat.

"I just wanted to bring you your purse so you could sneak out the back," she said, lifting your purse up and handing it over to you.

"But my shift-"

"Oh my god, take the day off," Maria said, shaking her head and grinning. "Think you earned it."

"Okay," you agreed, then turned to walk through the kitchen where you could leave out the back so no customers would gawk at you.

"Lemme walk you home," Joel's voice said, startling you. You had just assumed he went back out front.

"Don't you have to, you know... work?" you asked, floundering for the right word.

"He ain't goin' anywhere," Joel said, shoving his hands deep in his pockets as he walked by your side down the sidewalk.

The two of you walked quietly for a few minutes.

"I've never seen you like that before," you said, breaking the silence. He turned his head towards you, raising his eyebrows.

"Like what?"

"Like, all... cop-like," you said, chuckling at your terrible choice in words.

Joel grinned and glanced down at his feet.

"Yeah, well, job's not all inappropriate graffiti and speed traps."

You hummed in agreement as you kept walking.

"Do you have to unholster your service weapon often?"

"'Service weapon'?" he repeated, surprised at the term you chose. Although it wasn't wrong, it typically was not something most people said. You just looked at him, not acknowledging it, so he let it go.

"Uh, no, not really," he said, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Oh," was all you said, taking a deep breath and continued to stare straight ahead. He watched you from the corner of his eye for a moment.

"When I came outta the bathroom and saw - " he stopped short, then rubbed his lower lip with the pad of his thumb as he collected his thoughts. "You were scared. And I... reacted."

You glanced his way again, but he kept his eyes focused straight ahead. What was he trying to say?

"Thank you," you said softly, but he was quick to shake his head.

"Not lookin' for you to thank me," he said, finally allowing his gaze to drift back to you, giving you a small smile.

When you finally reached your apartment, you took out your keys and turned to him, ready to thank him again, even though he told you not to, but he spoke first.

"Here, why don't you take this," he said, holding out a small white card between his index and middle finger. You gingerly took it and flipped it over, reading the text on the other side.

"It's my card. Call me when you wanna stop by the station," he reminded you, and you nodded.

"My cell's on there, too. If you ever, y'know," he said, half a smirk playing on his lips as he nervously shifted his weight. "You ever wanna talk 'bout anythin', really. 'Bout what happened today, or... book club," he said, and you laughed. He grinned, relieved to finally see you smile again.

"Okay," you said with a nod, and turned to put the key in the lock.

He watched as you made your way all the way up the steps, and didn't leave until he saw the second door at the top of the stairs close firmly behind you.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed@merz-8@sarap-77 @nandan11 @anoverwhelmingdin @fandomscollide @survivingandenduring

[callmelyc]

#2023JuLance

Final week: birthday

Months ago Keith had promised lance he'd be home for his birthday. He was so sure in fact that his entire family, including their former team, had planned to celebrate the following day. It was unusual sure, but it would be the first birthday celebrated in the new house.

In their new house.

The one they had moved into together almost a year ago now.

Yet here lance is with his handheld sitting blankly in his hands. No matter how many times he checked it looked the same: keiths contact set to 'away' with the last message being "I might be a little late, I'm sorry Lance."

He exhaled not realizing he'd been holding a breath before putting the device out of sight and going to bed. Tomorrow morning was his birthday, the first he'd be spending in their home and he might end up spending it alone.

-*-

When lance woke this morning it was to a onslaught of messages, emails, voice messages and social notifications. The entire universe it seemed was wishing him a happy birthday, all the way down to the one space mob they'd met in a mission two years ago- but thats another story- yet one notification was still missing.

Keith's.

Lance sighed before replying to everyone else sending 'thank you's and heart emojis to those that mattered most. Then he looked back at Keith's contact....still blank. Lance frowns sending off a quick "are you alright samurai?" and starts his day.

Throughout the entire day Lance grows antsy, Keith has never failed to say good morning to him unless something serious comes up, he's never failed to respond either. And he doesn't think Keith would forget to actually wish him a happy birthday...right?

Eventually lance convinces himself he's being ridiculous, Keith is a busy man he said he'd be a bit late so...lance will just wait for him.

Yet as the hours pass his nerves are set on edge.

Krolia has no info, kolivan has no info, keiths lesbian band of technical war criminals also lack anything of substance. If he asked shiro then everyone would know he'd been spending his day alone-

He finds himself checking the messages constantly in-between pacing and silence that only his footsteps fill. With every ping that's not Keith Lance grows worried and a bit more heartbroken. Afterall Keith had promised him he'd be here, and he does try to give the benefit of the doubt, lance really does. But when it reaches midnight with no sign nor word about him, lance feels dejected to say the least.

A lot worried to say the most, it seeps into the cracks the heartbreak of broken promises left behind and lance doesn't know how to feel anymore.

In the end he'd spent his birthday all alone in their new house they're supposed to share together.

-*-

This morning he's woken by banging on his front door and the sounds of pidge trying to lockpick his locks. Despite how yesterday went he can't help but smile at his friends antics, it's nice to know someone is excited about his birthday still.

By the time he's opening the door he's tackled by flailing limbs and demands to get ready asap. "we don't have all day lance we have a lot to do so get up!" Pidge huffs though doesn't let him move an inch.

"I can't exactly do anything with a pigeon attached to me"

Through all the rush no one comments on the lack of Keith and lance tries his best to pretend he doesn't notice the hole he's left behind. During the ride to his family home he checks his notifications multiple times hoping Keith finally got a chance to reply. His own message still sits on delivered.

Everything is momentarily forgotten when they pull up to his childhood home. He's immediately swarmed by everyone he holds dear. hugs, kisses, tackles and joyful welcome it brings lance to laughter easier than he's been able these last few days.

Once ushered inside he's face to face with the house decorated more than he's ever seen, every surface is covered with food and every face that looks his way is so loving it nearly hurts.

The entire house looks like a mishmash of the observation deck and the sea. There's holograms of photos from places they've gone and Lance loved most, there's gifts lining an entire wall, there's something glittery hanging from the ceiling- Lance is speechless taking everything in.

"Do you like it?" Rachel ask rocking back on her heels "we spent MONTHS planning every tiny detail. Even shiro and Adam helped, OH and krolia-"

"I-" his voice cracks a tiny bit looking back to everyone "you guys didn't have to do this much"

"Of course we did!" Hunk says with abother hug "you deserve it-"

Shiro gives lances shoulder a comforting squeeze "you've always made sure our birthdays were a big deal we could only hope to do the same for you too lance"

When lances tears fall after that everyone thinks it's because he's overjoyed piling in for another hug, he is, but they don't realize it's also because of hurt too.

-*-

Lance spent the entire day trying not to think of Keith again, despite all the happy faces around him not a single one mentioned his absence. If it wasn't for their lack of worry he'd probably be half way across the universe to find him right about now. So instead lance sits and watches the sun start to set.

He looks at the shades of blue and red coming together reflecting in the soft glow. He looks at the way the tides brush the sand on the shoreline. He looks back to his handheld still blank of new notifications.

He looks back at Keith's messages and finds nothing has changed.

A final click and his device is fully off this time. No more checking, lance decides and he's walking back inside to gather his things.

"Leandro what are you doing?"

Lance briefly glances to his sister and smiles softly "I'm gonna head home a little early"

"Wait what-" she says almost panicked before schooling her face "why?"

He shrugs "just feeling tired, it's been a very long two weeks."

"But you can't leave yet!" She protest causing lance to turn to her brow raised.

"Is there another part of the birthday I'm missing?"

"Y-no!" She says unconvincing "but we enjoy having you here..."

"Uh-huh...sure," he laughs while getting his keys "I'll visit again tomorrow alright? I just...need some peace, ya know how things get sometimes."

Lance knew it was a bit of a low blow but he knows it works when Veronica looks at him in worry "ok, just...let us know if you need anything, ok Leo?"

Lance gives her a tight hug "always vera" then he leaves before anyone else has the opportunity to convince him otherwise.

-*-

When arriving home lance is unsurprised to find it silent. No Keith, no kosmo, just lance. He sighs letting his back slide down the closed door until he's on the floor.

Lance sets his face in his hands "im gonna kill you when you get back you dick-"

Unsure of how long he spends on the floor lance let's himself grow cold, he let's himself stay curled against the door. It's grounding, somehow comforting to his wave of emotion. He's sure he's halfway to finally breaking down when he hears the unmistakable zing of kosmo somewhere out in the backyard.

Looking up lance notices the time is back to midnight and by the time he reaches the backdoor lance decides he's furious.

Standing there, for the first time in two weeks, is Keith. Lance doesn't move to lessen the distance and he's certain whatever emotion he's wearing on his face is the only reason Keith hasn't motioned to close that distance himself.

"Hi-" Keith provides a bit awkwardly

Lance doesn't reply just continues to stare him down hoping Keith can feel the radiating disappointment he feels.

"I'm sorry..."

"Doesn't feel like it"

"That's not fair lance you know I am-"

"No-" lance snaps "what's not fair is for me to have spent all of yesterday and today worried sick about you because you wouldn't even read my messages and not a single person could tell me if anything even went wrong...." His voice cracks a bit causing keiths face to fall "I spent my birthday alone without a happy birthday from the one person I wanted it from the most."

Lance inhales trying to calm himself "this mission wasn't even a field mission, you weren't supposed to be in danger or out of range."

"I wasn't. I was safe, I was definitely in range..." Keith says as he slowly inches forward.

"Then why?" Lance practically begs because even if it was just a birthday, even if it was something so small he wanted Keith there he needed him to be.The tears trying to escape before finally start to fall "why did you leave me alone again?"

Before he can blink the tears away Keith is swooping in wiping them away with gentle hands. He's pulling lance in close to hug him tightly with a sea of im sorry's falling from his lips.

"I was planning something and it took longer than expected, I should've called you..." Keith says softly "im so sorry, I broke my promise... I never meant to hurt you lance."

They're on the ground now lance held close in Keith's arms and kosmo cuddling into lances lap. He lifts his head to look at Keith, finally look at him, and norices the exhaustion in his face too.

Lance chuckles weakly brushing his knuckles against Keith's eye bags "we're a mess of a pair aren't we ... I can't even handle a birthday alone and you look like you've been through a second war."

Keith's lips quirk up slightly "to be fair, I did heavily promise you wouldn't be alone for it, or ever, if I could help it."

"You failed that"

"I did"

"Doesn't explain the extra wrinkles-"

Keith huffs pulling back slightly to look lance in the eyes, really look "I can show you....if you want"

Lance agrees but doesn't expect Keith to fully pull back. He doesn't expect him to pull out a small box, he doesn't expect him to show lance an engagement ring.

"I originally had an entire speech planned..." He says not deterred by lances silence "but it doesn't feel quite right anymore."

Lance watches him inhale slowly drawing those purple eyes to look intensely into his own.

"Will you marry me?"

Lance blinks, let's the words soak into his skin-

"No"

Keith drops the box in shock "what?"

"I said no" lance reiterates but reaches down to pick the rings up and places them gently into Keith's hands.

"Why...?" Keith's voice cracks a little and lance almost feels bad.

"I'm still upset with you, you've broken so many promises and couldn't even say happy birthday to me-"

"Because I was busy finding the perfect ring!"

"Ah-ahaha" lance says "no interrupting! You can try again after you manage to make it up to me. Alright?"

Keith groans accepting defeat "fine! ok..."

Lance squeezes his hands with a quick kiss to Keith's forehead "now come on samurai, we both need sleep this entire thing was stressful."

That night they both go to sleep in each other's arms with I love yours falling from each other's lips.

A year later lances birthday is spent happily without a single worry or fear. He's not alone, their home is jovial, there's no missed messages from Keith and this time, when Keith proposes, he says yes.

Bonus:

"So when Veronica was trying to get me to stay-?"

"I was supposed to be waiting at the beach with the rings but I was later than originally planned..."

"I see..."

[cataclysmet]

I remember when the guilt used to eat me up. Swallow all my limbs and gnaw its way into my lungs. I remember the surety of knowing that maybe if I suffered just a little bit more, all the wrong things in my life would turn themselves right. He wouldn’t make time for me, so I punished myself with work, I became sick and refused to heal myself. Believing my pain would somehow fix either myself or another.

Sometimes these feelings will resurface. Two characters will be arguing in a book, it’s a fight. And the main character never does what I would do. They don’t run, don’t push the other away, don’t throw up walls and barricades against the onslaught, don’t lock themselves away inside their own chest and turn a blank face to the world. These are things I would do. I couldn’t fight for what I want, there is no drive for it: I still believe myself unworthy. Because even though I’ve gone down to the battlefield to slash and hack at this monstrous guilt, its roots still exist.

There is still a part of me that believes I must suffer for the bad things that happen. Digging into my chest again and again, scourging my soul open, sighing and weeping mea culpa mea culpa.

[annihilatian]

[ SCAR ]. lumine

[ SCAR ]:          noticing a scar on the receiver’s skin, the sender tentatively stops them from covering it up, and rests a gentle, soft kiss over it. @yanwangye

here in the gold light of sunrise, eternity stretches through. they’ve lost the last day to this, lounging, revealing, reveling, leaving only for the barest necessities (and paimon's flittering insistence). all new territory, exploration, unhurried in its tenderness. time to make up for, she’d laughed earlier, but it had been a truth all the same. how many hours spent lying in the dark, carried by the thought of his hands? hands that run now over her in slow ease, stretching out over her thighs as she straddles his hips, sets her own palms on each of his bracketing forearms. a light hold, encouraging.

it isn't a display. an offering, maybe. whatever one could call it, letting him take his time tracing and charting each hitch and divot of her form. here, look, see. she feels no flinch or shy-flush about the bareness of herself, watching him watch her, his eyes falling away to thumb at an old wound. when he asks, she can't remember, sheepish and shrugging. her body's hardened since it fell, fell down into the earth. this world makes a weapon of her and demands a weapon in kind. new scars shine, stretch on her skin, others fading from the first days she stumbled through -- others old, older than buildings, near faded to nothing.

her back aches, phantom pains.

she inhales shaky, quiet, as his touch slides up further, past her legs to chart across her hips, up along her torso. his fingers slide against another, not new, but not old either. puckered, long, it curls over her left rib, shredding at the back. that one, she knows. remembers the impossibly harsh pressure, rip of violent water tearing through her skin, how she'd thought for a moment -- a long, awful moment -- splayed out on the platform as another wave took over, more fatui surrounding, water up to her knees now around her ears, catching in her lungs, that she might find her end drowning in the sky.

" that was osial. that final push. " she says baldly, face blank. there are more from that terrible stretch of hours; nicks and scratches from the onslaught of fatui, one here or there from the harbinger's own hydro - blade. she doesn't point them out. no need for it, that fight long past and more to come no doubt -- so instead she grabs his wrist, pulling his fingers away from where her skin has mended itself or been forced together by someone else's healing. hardly smooth. pottery shards put back together.

she presses a quick, punchy kiss to the jut of his knuckles; seeking assurance maybe, strange hesitation sitting in her chest. " find everything you were looking for? "

[bocje-ce-ustu]

on another note, one has to appreciate the cruel irony of ep11′s reveal scene: thua’s outburst is a time-bomb unwittingly set by ayan. ayan told thua his voice matters and thua found his voice (in a kinda twisted way, but still). and if you think about it from thua’s perspective, the worst betrayal comes when ayan, the very same person who encouraged him to speak up, is the one trying to silence him.

[foxghost]

Joyful Reunion

Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1 Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index

Wu Du · A Youthful Jaunt (Part 2 of 2)

In the middle of the night, amidst a rainstorm, brooks joined together into a river to flow through the lowlands of the army camp at the foot of the mountains. Surrounded by the pitter-patter of rain, Li Jianhong placed a sheet of paper on the table, and he picked up the brush and wrote as Wu Du looked on: You ask of my return, but that day is not yet set; Mount Ba’s rainstorms have flooded the pond in autumn. When will we two trim the wick by the west window, and speak of the night rains that fall on Mount Ba?2

“Bring me the sealing wax,” Li Jianhong ordered, and Wu Du brought the sealing wax, heating it over a flame.

“A letter for my son.” Noticing Wu Du staring at the blank envelope, Li Jianhong explained, “He’s still in Shangjing.”

Wu Du did not answer. Li Jianhong added, “Have you ever had someone who’s constantly on your mind?”

Wu Du replied, “I don’t.”

He’d been working for Li Jianhong for only a few days, but Li Jianhong never ordered Wu Du around or treated him like a subject, which suited Wu Du perfectly. Conversations between them flowed as though they were fellow students from the same martial arts school.

Li Jianhong continued, “Assassins are not allowed to care about anyone. Wuluohou Mu, for instance.”

Wu Du sealed the envelope with the secret seal.

Li Jianhong said, “But you’re not an assassin, and you cannot merely be an assassin.”

Wu Du replied, “Certainly.”

“Everyone says that only by not having distractions can one reach the apex of the martial arts, as though a martial artist can only become a martial arts sage by not having any attachments, or by ridding oneself of all emotions and desires. But in my opinion, that’s not the case at all.”

Wu Du thought about this silently for a bit. After carefully putting the letter away, he replied, “It’s not that I don’t want to care about anyone, it’s that from the time I left the mountains at fifteen, my heart has never really moved for anyone.”

Li Jianhong raised an eyebrow and turned his gaze to Wu Du.

“Rare to hear something sincere out of your mouth for once,” Li Jianhong said coolly. “Without a care, all alone in the world, how can you know what you’re trying to protect?”

Of course Wu Du knew that the one always on Li Jianhong’s mind was the crown prince, who lived in the far north.

“The person who cares would know the longing of having someone they care about, but those who do not care about anyone would be at ease as only someone without cares can feel at ease,” Wu Du said.

Li Jianhong’s face broke into one of his rare smiles, and he added, “You will establish yourself someday, and get married. Someone will call you ‘husband’ or ‘master’, and someone will call you ‘dad’. Then, you’ll possess a kind of courage that you never had before. Even if you know it’d be through hell, you would run ahead without fear.”

“I made a vow. I can never marry.” Wu Du’s eyebrows drew together slightly.

Li Jianhong said, “Go on then.”

“Not to save the empire, nor for ambition, and not for the people’s welfare, either.” Seemingly lost in his thoughts, Li Jianhong said as Wu Du turned to go, “Those reasons are no longer your reasons. Your reason will only be the one who is always on your mind.”

Wu Du didn’t understand what he meant. He thought that he may live his whole life without ever understanding what he meant.

In the centre of a swirling eddy of leaves, Li Jianhong and Wu Du, one wielding the Zhenshanhe and the other the Lieguangjian, practised swordplay beneath a waterfall. Li Jianhong made ten moves, but Wu Du only managed to strike back twice before almost collapsing under his onslaught. He cannot help but feel entirely won over by Li Jianhong’s skills.

“Your style leans too heavily on offence and too lightly on defence.” Li Jianhong stopped attacking, and said gravely, “You’re putting your life on the line with every move. That’s why you can’t win against me.”

Ever since Wu Du left the mountains, he’d never suffered such a humiliating defeat — he’d downright been beaten to the point of losing all confidence in himself. He said moodily, “It doesn’t really matter what you say. A loss is a loss.”

“Take it back,” Li Jianhong said unhurriedly.

“Can’t take it back,” Wu Du said helplessly, “I can afford to lose.”

Li Jianhong said offhandedly, “Soon enough, somebody will be behind you, watching you. Then, you’ll be able to take it back.”

There was a deep furrow between Wu Du’s brows.

Li Jianhong said, “Only when that time comes will you realise that it has nothing to do with whether you can or cannot afford to lose, but that you ‘must not lose’.”

The two of them sheathed their swords at the same time. Facing Wu Du head-on, Li Jianhong said solemnly, “Wu Du, promise me one thing.”

Wu Du got a bad feeling right away, and he replied without pause, “Your Majesty, you mean …”

Li Jianhong raised a hand to interrupt Wu Du. He reached out with his left hand as though picking something out of the air, and with that invisible something between his fingers, he made a flicking gesture at Wu Du. Wu Du, having no idea what it all meant, stared at Li Jianhong.

“I leave this string in your keeping.” With his left hand, Li Jianhong made a binding motion as though tying a knot. He said, “It is my son, my empire of Great Chen, the fate of the central plains. If something were to happen to me on this campaign, you will look after my son. When your sword leaves your sheath, he will be on your mind, just like the way he is always on my mind.”

Wu Du did not hesitate and saluted Li Jianhong.

Moonlight shone across the empires as the army got into formation, and they were to march at the first light of dawn. Wu Du stood outside the tent, and looking up at the moon, he took out his flute and began to play the Joyful Reunion.

On the night of the Seventh of Seventh, Shangjing fell.

“Where is he?!” When Wu Du finally managed to fight his way into the city, the whole place was in a state of pandemonium. He searched all over for a young man’s face that might possibly be a match, and every time he grabbed someone he would ask urgently, “Are you … are you Duan Ling?”

The street outside the Viburnum was covered in corpses. Wu Du had been shot in the shoulder, and he was dragging himself through the streets; instead of the crown prince, however, what he found was Li Jianhong’s body. He knelt before Li Jianhong’s body and let out a mournful shout, and he reached up to wipe away the rain and blood on his face. There was no time to grieve; he turned around and ran into the Viburnum.

The sound of killing seemed to fade and grow distant. Holding the Zhenshanhe, all of Wu Du’s strength was for nought; his eyes were hollow, bewildered; he had been neither to rescue Li Jianhong nor manage to fulfil the trust placed in him. Then and there, all the strength that had carried him thus far abandoned him, and along it went hope, faith … all the tenets that led him to decide to start again, to live beneath the sun.

“Ah—ah—” Wu Du began to howl almost madly, and with the Zhenshanhe in his grip, left the Viburnum again. He struck down a Mongolian soldier with the sword as soon as he saw him, and he had no idea what he should do; like a walking corpse, he’d become a killing machine moving amidst the flames of war.

Soon, corpses were piling up around Li Jianhong’s body. When the Chen army arrived, Wu Du finally tossed the Zhenshanhe aside and landed heavily on his knees next to Li Jianhong.

“I’m sorry — Your Majesty,” Wu Du said, choking on tears, “I’m sorry …”3

Xichuan, in the fragrance of late autumn.

The evening he heard that the crown prince had returned to court, Wu Du felt as though he’d been struck by a million bolts of lightning. He was being taken out of his jail cell then, and upon overhearing the servants in the palace discussing the crown prince’s return, nothing else seemed to matter, and he pushed the guards aside and ran towards the imperial study on bare feet. When he got there, the study was already surrounded by countless officials, all a hubbub with excitement. The bodyguards there blocked Wu Du’s way, and Wu Du said anxiously, “Let me inside! Get your hands off of me!”

With the guards in the way, Wu Du tried to look inside. He gasped hard for breath and howled, “Let me inside! Wu Du is here seeking an audience! Your Majesty! Wu Du is here seeking an audience!”

“Let him come in,” Li Yanqiu’s voice said calmly.

The door opened. Wu Du stood outside, dishevelled in prisoner’s garb, and locked eyes with the crown prince.

“His name is Wu Du,” Li Yanqiu said to the crown prince, “when your dad went into battle, he was the one who travelled at his side.”

The crown prince immediately started to shake, and tears were brimming over uncontrollably from his red-rimmed eyes, looking as though they were about to spill.

“It’s you,” Wu Du suddenly recalled that winter, and Cai Yan with the plum blossom cake hidden in his robes. “It was you … I remember now! I’ve seen you before!”

The mood grew tense at once. Cai Yan’s hand rolled into a tight fist, as though trying to hold onto something, and his cheeks turned red.

“Your dad left you in my care,” Wu Du pushed the guard away and got down on one knee. He looked up at Cai Yan. Under a rush of shock and nerves, he was almost beyond reason.

“I let him down, and I let you down. For the rest of my life, I shall, I shall … if Your Highness would not shun me for the criminal that I am, and pardon me, I shall spend rest of my life …”

Lang Junxia gave Wu Du a glance, then turned to Cai Yan with a complicated look in his eyes.

“Why!?” Cai Yan said between a sob, “my dad, he, how could he …”

Gasping, Wu Du said, “It’s all my fault. Your Highness, the late emperor told me that if something ever happened to him …”

As though he’d lost his mind, Cai Yan yelled at the top of his lungs, “I don’t want to see his face! Take him away! Sentence him to death! He killed my dad!”

Wu Du wasn’t finished, but these words had startled him; what little spirit that remained in his eyes ebbed away. The guards came up, grabbed him by the arms, and dragged him away again.

This time, Wu Du didn’t struggle. He let them drag him back to his cell like a corpse.

The light in his jail cell brightened, darkened, and brightened again; the skylight above turned white, and then black. Wu Du felt as though his soul had returned briefly in that one instant, and was abruptly ripped away again. For months, he repented against nightmares and blood, then suddenly a voice jumped out of the dark to forgive him without any warning, but this forgiveness wasn’t what he wanted at all.

The weight on his shoulders had always exceeded a thousand jin, but it was also proof that he was alive. Now that it’d been lifted, he felt empty and free, but it was as though they’d taken away the last shred of hope that made him cling to life.

Mu Kuangda walked into the jail cell, stood outside the iron bars, and stared at Wu Du.

“Your wish has already been fulfilled,” Mu Kuangda said.

Wu Du grinned and let out an almost mad bark of laughter as though he was mocking his own fate, mocking this pointless, meaningless joke that destiny had played on him. He still remembered how he’d felt the day he left White Tiger Hall, the day he’d come out of the mountains.

“He hasn’t gone mad, has he?” Chang Liujun said suspiciously.

Mu Kuangda said, “He hasn’t gone mad. Wu Du, what are your plans?”

“Destiny makes fools of us all.” Wu Du stopped laughing, a vacancy in his eyes. “I should have died long ago.”

“That’s not necessarily true.” Mu Kuangda opened the jail cell’s doors and said to him, “Come on out. A capable man must choose a prudent leader to follow. Why put all your eggs in one basket?”

Wu Du forced a smile. Every single time he polished the Lieguangjian in the Grand Chancellor’s estate, he would remember what Li Jianhong once told him.

Only when that time comes will you realise that it has nothing to do with whether you can or cannot afford to lose, but that you ‘must not lose’.

But now, what even is the significance of winning or losing? He once thought he’d walked into daylight, but it wasn’t even a few days before he had to stumble back into the long night.

And he remained there until that ray of light made a loud noise, shining into his world, illuminating the earth and sky to blinding white.

Without a care, all alone in the world, how can you know what you’re trying to protect?"

“Shan’er —!”

Seventh of Seventh, before the Tongguan gate: Wu Du spurred his horse to a gallop, raised his left hand with his finger-daggers, and with the Palm of the Realm, he blocked the two-handed sword coming down at him with strength enough to crack the earth!

Then, you’ll possess a kind of courage that you never had before. Even if you know it’d be through hell, you would run ahead without fear.

“Charge with me!”

Seventh of Seventh, outside the city of Ye: a line of beacons shone like the Silver River, a road to heaven; Wu Du led an army through a rain of flaming arrows, his armour reflecting the golden light showering down at the horizon like meteors as they ford that grand river separating life from death.

“Who do you fight for?”

Not to save the empire, nor for ambition, and not for the people’s welfare, either. Those reasons are no longer your reasons. Your reason will only be the one who is always on your mind.

“All my life, I’ve never believed in the will of heaven, but now I have no choice but to believe.”

Seventh of Seventh, in the emperor’s tomb halfway up Mount Yuheng: wielding the Zhenshanhe, dressed in the emperor’s armour, Wu Du flung open the doors to the tomb. A million points of starlight illuminated the path before him, and against a tide of bolts and swords, he swam upstream.

“This is my … lord and master.” When Duan Ling smiled, there had been affection in his eyes that even he hadn’t noticed, but Wu Du understood and his heart shook with the knowledge.

In a blood-red maple forest, Duan Ling, with those eyes and that smile, began to show him the Palm of the Realm, starting and pausing. Whenever he forgot the moves he would stop, scratch his head, and make up something to get to the next part. The maple leaves kept falling, sometimes obscuring his features. Wu Du reached out with a shaky hand and searched for that invisible string of fate hovering over his wrist, trying his darndest to hold onto something.

Tonight is the very first time in his life that he’s felt so dearly fond of peach blossoms.

The music stops. The night is still, and peach blossoms drift through the air.

“Choose the place you love the most … anywhere is fine. The edge of the oceans, the ends of the earth, as long as you want to be there, I’ll be at your side …”

Duan Ling takes the bracelet from Wu Du, and turning, presses a kiss to his lips.

Spring breeze blows through the wilderness, through the peach trees, waking the silent, desolate night, waking the mountains from their deep sleep. Overnight the peach blossoms drift past Lord White Tiger, how brilliantly they bloom, how radiant and splendid; and every petal is turning into that endless string of fate in samsara that can’t be cut, that tangles all the more as one tries to untangle it. One end spells yearning for all one’s life, the other end ties them together for one lifetime —

— 'til death do us part.

This translation is by foxghost, on tumblr and kofi. I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, it was reposted without permission. Do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎

Duan Ling received this letter in this chapter. ↩︎

Things did not quite happen this way. Helan Jie’s assassins took the Zhenshanhe and its whereabouts became a minor plot point. When Wu Du fought his way back into the city, he had to fight to get Li Jianhong’s body back from the Mongolians. All Wu Du managed to bring back to Xichuan was Li Jianhong’s body and the set of black armour he had been wearing. ↩︎

[tteokdoroki]

— “SHARING IS CARING + DABI/TOUYA TODOROKI.” ft. shoto todoroki.

author’s note(s): i havent written in days bc ive been working on other things but here’s this bc i am a whore. btw reader and shoto are third years/18 in this so hold onto your wigs lol.

warning(s): mdni, 18+. smut, dark content, dub-con, manipulation, cheating, choking, breath play, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyerism kinda, corruption!kink, virginity loss, degradation. characters aged up to 18. fem!reader.

touya todoroki has always been better than his brothers, at everything. praised from a young age for his powerful abilities, handsome face and charming smile— touya is the todoroki family’s prized gem. the favourite, prodigy son. the one who always gets what he wants. of course, until precious shoto todoroki arrives.

shoto, the undeniably gorgeous boy with dual chrome eyes and hair to match— an aloofness about him that draws everyone in, especially at school where he excels and wears himself at the top of his class in U.A academy. now; he’s everyone’s favourite boy, endeavour’s, his mother’s and yours. you, the sweet and innocent little girl who lives about two blocks away. the whole neighbourhood knows who you are, the apples of your cheeks stretched into a darling smile, that’s sometimes etched with an air of shyness when someone compliments you on how pretty you are.

you have doe eyes that watch shoto with such awe because you’re so impressed by what he can do, because you love how kindly he treats you and how he protects you from hungry stares belonging to others. touya finds your innocence annoying; the first time his younger brother brings you for dinner. the way you stutter over your words when speaking with rei or enji and how hide behind shoto whenever the eldest enters the room.

but you’re nice to look at, he can see why his pest of a younger sibling keeps you around. does shoto realise how far your skirt rides up over your ass whenever you bend over? how your thighs resembling pillows spill over the tops of your school socks? and how your lips are always so bitten and cherry red— everything about you is so fuckable.

and like i said, touya todoroki always gets what he wants.

“i’m better than him, aren’t i sweetness? you like the way this cock fucks you. c’mon, tell me how good i make you feel.”

touya doesn’t really need an answer, especially when it’s unlikely that he’ll get one from you. pretty little girl, sweet ass up in the air and raw from the onslaught of spanks he’d given you earlier. your cunt shines with a slickness he so proudly knows that he’s caused and your hole puckers around nothing— so eager to be filled by the eldest todoroki’s cock. “t-touya, need you. p-please...” you babble, clawing at his black linen sheets, already stained with nectar from your leaky cunny.

oh you’re so good, so nice for him when you’re fucked dumb and on the edge of frustration— you say just what he wants to hear, so eager to please that you’d beg him for days if it meant you’d get your pussy abused and used. “that’s right little girl, you need me, right? ‘cause lil sho can’t take you the way i do. you need me to show you what it’s like to feel good.”

touya lives for the way your hips jump back from just his dirty words alone, clit pushing deliciously against the tip of his length— you’re so cute when you want it. when you wanna be fucked by an older, more experienced dick. you know that touya has what shoto doesn’t. you know you can always rely on him to make you cum when shoto can’t.

any decent older brother would feel bad for taking advantage of his sibling’s girl, but touya has a point to prove. he’ll always be the better todoroki, he knows that, especially when his burning cock sinks into your tight hole— the one that welcomes him into your velvet walls, so perfectly carved into the shape of him.

a drawn out and gargled whine bubbles in the back of your throat, the stretch making your eyes roll so far back into your head touya would have thought you’d passed out, it wouldn’t have been the first time either.

oh no, he remembers the way he’d made your fleshy thighs quiver and your meek voice turn to screams when he’d taken you in the bathroom across the hall from shoto’s bedroom the first time you stayed the night. or the time that he’d cornered you in the kitchen while you made a study snack for you and your boyfriend, carelessly flipping your skirt up and creaming in your virgin cunt until all you could say were mindlessly repeats of his name. touya. his name always sounded so pretty against jumbled words that slid across your tongue.

that one time in the kitchen, touya had sent you back to shoto’s room with your pink lace panties full of his pungent seed and had listened to shoto fuck it deeper inside of you later that night when you let the younger take you for the first time. touya wonders if his little brother truly believes he was lucky enough to take your virginity or if he knows how much of a whore you are for the eldest, white haired sibling. possession flares in his chest at the very thought, making him plunge himself into the deepest parts of you while you quiver like a little bitch below him.

his piercings drag up and down your gummy walls, friction causing you to drool amongst the pillows that you drown in. touya’s large hand pushes down on the small of your back, shaping your body into an uncomfortable arch— you whimper but don’t complain. taking his dick like you should, accepting him like you should. his balls, oh so heavy with cum, slap against your cheeks while your juices paint his tummy from how much you leak and the lewd sounds fill the air so loud, there’s no doubt poor little shoto todoroki can hear it through the walls.

“sweetness, you’re so bad— sneaking off to let your boyfriend’s big brother make you scream. you’re just a slut for the todoroki dick...aren’t ya? you’d probably let nat in on it too...” touya slurs, drooling at the way your backside bounces with every slam of his hips into you.

“n-no-! no... ‘m not a slut...not a—!” you squeal pathetically, barely able to finish your sentence as touya shoves your face into the sheets harshly— deep chuckle reverberating in his chest as he presses it to your sweaty back.

you still yourself, taking all what he gives to you even if it means you can barely breathe. the eldest todoroki lifts a hand to knock on the thin walls separating him from his little brother; words coming out as breathless as he thrusts into you deeper, harder, faster— abusing your barely prepped hole. “ya’hear that sho, yur lil angel’s not as innocent as you think; she’d let all of us fuck her if we asked nicely...” the way he speaks about you is mean; it could make you cry but all you do in response is clamp down on the man above you and suck him in deeper, selfishly just like he’d taught you. he smirks with pride at how much your cunt lives for him, at how his little brother is getting the show of his life time— probably jerking off to the sounds of his girl getting railed but someone who isn’t him.

touya’s hips stutter and he cums inside you with a shout, thick ropes of his hot seed spraying against your walls and seeping between your puffy folds. ringed fingers find your clit, drawing circles into them until you tip over the edge and tumble into your own release, clamping down so hard that you draw blanks from your boyfriend’s older brother. the way you twitch after touya’s emptied himself inside you, letting him press down on the sweet bulge at your tummy so his cum leaks out— almost makes him want to brush the hair away from your face and kiss you, but he remains objective— treating you as proof that he will always be the superior sibling.

when he’s pulled out of you and helped you to shaky legs to leave— he watched the regret wash over your innocent features like it always does when he’s made a woman out of you. “tell my little brother i said; sharing is caring, sweetness.” touya asks of you oh-so-kindly, revelling in the way your bottom trembles and a fresh set of tears well in your bambi eyes.

what? he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t mean to make you cry, but that would defeat the purpose if he was telling the truth.

[nejibaby]

Deja Vu

Pairing: Neji x Fem!Uchiha Reader

Summary: Hyuga Hiashi does not approve of your relationship with Neji.

implied established relationship. implied that neji has plans marrying.

Word Count: 2.8k

Memories - Part 1 | Deja Vu - Part 2

A/N: gotta say it started out cute but then bam angst sjdjdens i’m sorry i’m dramatic sumtyms 🤧 please let me know your thoughts 🥺

The Sharingan never forgets.

That’s among one of the few things that’s drilled into your mind as a child born in the Uchiha clan. Before you had even awakened your Sharingan, your late brother, Shishui, had already taught you this.

At a young age, you’ve always thought it was a blessing, especially to a shinobi like you. With the ability of the Sharingan to discern movements and to retain its information better than any other dojutsu, it enables you to progress faster than children your age.

Outside the shinobi life, however, it’s not really that useful, so it’s expected for you not to activate it at all. You don’t need to remember minor details of everyday life after all. But on some of your days off — on special days — although very rarely, you unconsciously activate your Sharingan when you’re with Neji.

It goes without saying that before the war, you’ve already gained quite a bit of control over the use of the Sharingan. You’re able to activate and deactivate it at will, although sometimes your emotions get the better of you and it messes your control. After the war, however, you’ve become adept at controlling both your emotions and your Sharingan, maybe even better than Sasuke.

But whenever Neji surprises you with affectionate gestures, you get so overwhelmed that you just can't control your body, and by extension, your dojutsu too.

No matter how hard you try, you’re unable to stop the blood rushing to your face. You’re unable to calm the violent thumping of your heart. You’re unable to get rid of the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You’re unable to prevent the Sharingan from activating. Especially on the rare occasions that he kisses the back of your hand tenderly after he walks you home, or when he kisses your lips before he leaves for a mission.

Neji isn’t good at romantic gestures, and so he keeps it to a bare minimum. But when he does these things, it always takes you by surprise.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he likes your cute reactions to his unpredictable acts. There’s always this short moment where your mind goes blank and your Sharingan manifests itself. This reassures him of your feelings for him because he knows he’s the only one who’ll be able to pull such a reaction from you. Not that he’s ever doubted you. You’ve always been so vocal about your feelings for him, after all.

On the flip side, while it embarrasses you that you can’t control your Sharingan when you’re with Neji, you like the way they activate themselves at those moments, as they’re able to help you remember the details of its aftermath — like the way Neji would always look down on the floor first before he meets your eyes, his cheeks tinted pink, and with the slightest upturn of his lips, almost as if he, himself, wasn’t expecting the onslaught of emotions that was brought about by his own actions. In mere seconds, you have all these memorized before he pulls away, and you play it over and over again in your mind until you’re branded with a new memory.

But the Sharingan is a curse as much as it is a blessing.

It’s a curse because it reminds you of the cruelty of the world. It doesn’t allow you to forget the scene of the Uchiha clan district after the massacre, even after knowing the true reason why it had to be done. It lets you remember the way you almost lost Neji from the Ten Tails’ attack during the war in his attempt to protect Naruto and Hinata.

And when Sasuke implanted Shisui’s eye to you, which he retrieved from Danzo before he annihilated him, the Sharingan lets you relive all his memories and experiences, and it paints you a picture of how unfair the world actually is, even more so to an Uchiha like you.

The unfair reality is further proven by an unexpected knock on your door a couple of weeks ago.

Hiashi. Hyuga Hiashi. The head of the Hyuga clan. Neji’s uncle.

He came to you with a deal, a proposition of sorts, but really it was just a threat in disguise as an offer.

“Leave Neji or else I’ll make sure he won’t be able to break free from his cage” is what he basically implied.

But to be precise, his words were, “The Hyuga clan is considering Neji to be the next heir, which would result in abolition of the main and branch family system altogether. Naturally, if he becomes the head of the clan, his curse seal will be removed, along with all the other branch family members’. However, there’s no telling if there’s going to be a change if he doesn’t get the position.

“You might have been keeping your relationship with him on the down-low, but the elders of the Hyuga clan know of it.

“To put it bluntly, we do not wish to be associated with the Uchiha in any way — so much that even disowning Neji has been put out there as an option, just in case — especially after what Sasuke pulled off after defeating the goddess.

“Moreover, if you were to bear a child together, there’s no telling what will happen to their kekkei genkai. It would be ideal to have him marry into the clan and follow tradition in order to preserve the Byakugan.

“I suppose you know where I’m going with this. It would be in his best interest if you call off whatever you have with him. Although this wouldn’t be a deal if there is nothing in it for you, right? Supposing Neji’s bright future is not enough for you, we are willing to arrange allowances of sorts.”

But before he could spout anything more, you cut him off by asking, “Does he know about this?”

“Not yet. But we’ll let him know soon enough.”

“Don’t. Keep it that way. I’ll handle this,” you told him, not caring if you didn’t sound respectful to a prominent figure such as himself. “I don’t need anything from your clan. All I want and need is for Neji to live a life that he deserves; a life that he was robbed off.”

Hiashi glared at you, offended by your words, but he didn't comment on it. Rather, he stared you down. His hardened expression morphing into suspicion the longer he looked at you; clearly he didn’t trust you. “How will you handle it?”

The only response he got from you is an intense stare with your Sharingan, and that alone was enough for him.

It’s frustrating to not have a choice, even when it comes to love, but in hindsight, you should’ve expected this. For all the troubles your ancestors caused in the past, it’s only natural for you to be this unfortunate.

Whatever blessing the Uchihas receive, it’s always paired with some type of misery. That’s just how it is, that’s how it would probably always be.

There’s no denying that in the end, it always, always hurts. But then again, you’re no stranger to pain and loss. And so is Neji. So surely, this would be for the best, at least that’s what you tell yourself over and over again in hopes that it will strengthen your resolve.

After all, Neji deserves a life where he doesn’t have to fear dying by the hands of the main branch family. He deserves a life where he can make choices of his own, without being tied down by his curse seal or his clan in general. And if leaving him means he’ll have all this and more, so be it.

As much as it is painful, it is hard, partly because of your waning resolve but especially because it’s Neji, who’s known for being an awfully perceptive shinobi. He’s almost never caught off guard, all the more when he’s with you, as he’s always keen on keeping you safe. Hence, you have to be meticulous and methodical.

The Sharingan’s ability to cast genjutsu is particularly harder to use against Hyugas due to their ability to see and sense the chakra concentrating by the eyes, enabling them to counter or avoid it entirely. Shisui’s Kotoamatsukami technique would’ve been quite useful, except you’re unable to use it yet because of the events prior to the war. Thus, you’ll have to rely on your own skills.

If timed right and casted properly, the genjutsu of the Sharingan has the ability to remove memories. To be precise, it can trick his mind into “forgetting” memories. But with years and years of memories between you and Neji, you know that you’ll have to cast it over and over again before everything will be completely wiped out.

You take advantage of the moments where Neji gives you affection, as you deem it the most subtle way to cast genjutsu on him without suspicion.

Although you have to admit, in the beginning you’ve been selfish, only removing memories of you and him that weren’t important — like the times he would accompany you in doing mundane tasks, or the times you both just lounge around after tiring missions. And because those are only minor memories, Neji is oblivious to the loss.

It gets exceptionally harder to cast the genjutsu once you’ve started erasing the major events in your relationship — the first date, the first kiss, the first time he held your hand, and the first time he introduced you as the love of his life. Until eventually, the affectionate acts dwindle down, and the only way you can use the Sharingan around him is when you ask him to train with you.

It’s only natural that the longer this goes on, the further you drift apart, and the more you lose him.

And it’s scary and painful because unlike Sasuke, Konoha has always been your home, but more specifically because of Neji. In fact, you can argue that Neji has always felt like home more than the village itself. You can walk the streets of Konoha but all it will ever scream is Neji’s name, and all it will ever show you is the memories you shared with him on every corner of the place.

The fact that you have to walk the streets without him is terrifying and foreign, and the only way you can avoid it altogether is by taking more and more missions, either the ones involving far away places or high rank missions that require every single bit of your concentration. Sometimes you even tag along to Sasuke’s expeditions to escape not only Neji’s overwhelming presence in the village, but also the thoughts of him.

It’s tiring and it’s heavy. But you’ve accepted the fact that you’re going to carry alone the memories for the two of you.

But this doesn’t go unnoticed by your friends, though they were quick to assume that things just didn’t work out between the two of you, and that you called your relationship off.

Ino is the first person to voice out her concern and her curiosity as she claimed it’s weird not seeing you hang out with Neji anymore.

“That’s just how it is, I suppose,” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant about everything despite the ache in your chest and the slight quiver of your voice.

She doesn’t comment further, thinking you probably didn’t want to talk about it.

But one day, when the whole clique — except for you and Sasuke — was hanging out, Ino can tell there was something wrong when Sakura asked if Neji remembered the time when you almost fell off a tree but he was there to catch you, and he furrowed his brows, saying he doesn’t recall that at all.

Break up or not, it’s highly unlikely for Neji to forget. Regardless of how minor something is, he always seems to remember them, especially when it involves you. And while he could’ve just been deflecting, there would’ve been no point in him denying that he remembers that occasion. Besides, Neji is blatantly honest, it’s one thing that you can count on when it comes to him, so really, how come he couldn’t remember that scenario at all?

This prompted Ino to observe Neji further out of concern and suspicion. She’d often find herself casually mentioning you and the feats you’ve both been through, but time and time again, Neji would tell her he has no recollection of those.

Ino wants to do something, anything really, just to clear her mind of suspicions, but she’s afraid she’s overstepping and interfering.

Neji takes notice of this. But even before that, he feels as though there’s something wrong, like something’s missing, but he doesn’t know what it is, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

After all, genjutsu might’ve tricked his mind, but his heart is an entirely different case.

It comes as a surprise to Ino when Neji comes to visit her in Yamanaka’s flower shop, looking at your favorite flowers without a clue why.

With Ino being the only one who seems to be willing to talk about you with him, it’s her who he seeks out. That, and he thinks the Yamanaka’s mind jutsus could be of help.

Ino doesn’t hesitate to help after Neji asks for it. When she goes to explore Neji’s consciousness, the first thing that she senses is your chakra. The further she prods, the more she realizes that it’s you who have been tampering with his memories. Then she realizes that it’s genjutsu that you’ve used on him, and she quickly breaks him out of it.

You know instantly when the jutsu breaks, feeling as if there was a string that snapped, and it immediately renders you frozen.

Fear grips you as you think about how Neji would feel after his memories come back. Will he be able to tell it was you who did it? Will he be mad at you? Will you tell him the reason why you did it? Will he even listen?

But if he’d stop talking to you altogether… then that would still be a win, right? Because that’s what Hiashi wants, that’s what his clan wants. That’s the only condition for them to give back Neji’s freedom.

But is it worth it?

Is this what you want?

Is this what Neji would want?

You’d like to believe so. And that’s the last thought you have as the rogue shinobi you’re supposed to capture stabs a kunai deep into your gut.

Of all the times the genjutsu could have broken, it just had to be when you were facing a highly skilled ninja. It’s once again a reminder that life is unfair, but this time, it’s your choices that lead you to this.

Deja vu. That’s how you feel when you wake up after escaping death’s clutches once again.

You blink once, twice, and then you look around your surroundings. You’re back in Konoha’s hospital, but this time you don’t wake up to a sleeping Neji by your bed.

You’re alone, and you feel hollow.

But then the door to your room opens abruptly and you almost jump in surprise.

Your breath hitches as you find the familiar lavender eyes staring back at you.

He calls your name to you softly, as if in a trance, and you feel your heart stutter at how perfect your name sounds on his lips.

Before you know it, he’s by your side, gently holding your hands. With an untrained eye, it would seem that his face is void of any emotion, but from your years of experience with him, you can clearly point out the sadness in his eyes.

You break the silence by saying, “I’m sorry, Neji.”

“For what exactly?”

You look away in shame. “For trying to erase your memories of us.”

“Why’d you do it then?”

“Because…” you bite your lip. “That’s what’s best for you,” your voice cracks. “I’m not… We couldn’t— no — we shouldn’t be together.”

Neji gathers his thoughts, and it takes a couple of minutes before he speaks up. “The Sharingan may not be able to forget, but the Byakugan sees everything.”

And you understand what he’s trying to say: he can see through the lies you feed yourself.

Neji sighs, and it gets your attention. You peek at him, and only then have you noticed the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders are slightly slumped.

He has always looked composed no matter the situation, but now he’s different.

“You used to tell me everything,” he says dejectedly.

The way he says it and the way he pleads with his eyes breaks something in you and you spill everything to him.

You’re crying and stuttering and you aren’t sure if you’re making sense. But Neji always, always understands you.

And by the end of your piece, you’re wrapped securely in his arms.

“You’re alright,” he comforts you. “We’re alright.”

“But Hiashi—”

“We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

here’s some really good ideas sent on anon for part 3!

<If you have ideas too, feel free to send them in because i love receiving them 🥰 I’ll be linking them here too!>

[wri0thesley]

hi nat!! i noticed requests were open and remembered “randomlyncrying during/after sex” angst being mentioned and i just👀😳🙏

ive had personal experience with that (mostly bc being vulnerable and intimate is scary yet cathartic for me, its not even necessarily sad crying or happy crying its just Strong Emotions) and i was wondering if u could do some like smut to hurt/comfort kinda with that specific scenario please🤭 maybe with risotto or abba bc i just want to be fucked AND comforted by a big strong goth man!!😩🙏

overwhelming - risotto x reader (2k)

warnings: crying during sex. afab reader. neutral pronouns. 

Everything about Risotto is overwhelming. The way he looks at you; the colours of his eyes. The low, gravel voice – the way he speaks only when he thinks he has something worth hearing. The touch of his hot, large hands on your skin – his width, his height, the knowledge of what he could do to you--

It’s even more overwhelming when you are beneath him in bed.

His body caging yours; the scarred, muscled chest and how it seems to heave in and out as he breathes. The scent of him – leather and iron and smoke – wrapping all around you, until he is everywhere. In your nose, in your mouth, his face flashing across your head as you pull him down into another kiss and he worries at your bottom lip, insistent and hot and needy.

Big hands run all over your form; taking his time to enjoy the way you feel, the curves and divots of your figure, the softness of you beneath his own calloused, work-weary hands. You feel like you fit into his grip perfectly – like you were made for him. You inhale sharply as his hands spread your legs apart, exposing the heated, slick valley of your sex to the warm air of the bedroom.

It always seems to be warm when Risotto is around. He kicks out heat merely by existing; and you cling to him in bed for it, grateful to be reminded of his presence.

“You’re so beautiful,” he dips his head to murmur, his voice deep and dark. Whenever he speaks, you feel a rush of desire go through you to pool at the apex of your thighs; there is something about the sonorous bass of his voice that makes your toes curl and that echoes through you, making you feel as though you are the only person in the world. “Look at yourself, tesoro.”

You do not see what he sees – but you do see the worship in his eyes. The hunger as he presses your legs further apart and leans into you, as you feel his hard cock press against your thigh insistently.

He is a careful man, despite his profession, and he knows that what he has between his thighs is too much for many people. He never sheaths himself inside of you straight away; even now, when you are fair pooling slick on his already messy sheets, one of his big hands is cupping your mound.

Calloused thumb rubbing over your clit, coaxing heat and sighs and little rocks of your hips. One large, lone finger – sliding inside of you, rubbing against your walls with the practise of a man who knows your body as intimately as he knows his own. Your head rolls back and you display your neck for him; vulnerable, and needy, and utterly his. He does not leave your neck unmarked – his lips are on you in moments, sucking love-bites, nipping bruises, his finger still pumping in and out of you.

Two fingers. You tangle your own grip into his silvery pale hair and pull his mouth to yours so that you may kiss him – he tastes like iron, always. You do not find it unpleasant; blood is a taste that you have grown to appreciate, because it reminds you of him. Three fingers, and you hear the wet squelch of your arousal, feel it dripping out of you with every rock of his hand. His thumb has stopped teasing your clit, but the rough heel of his hand is now continuing the onslaught of pleasure. With every thrust, it rubs against the swollen bud, and you feel your stomach begin to tie itself in knots.

He pulls them out of you with a slick gush, the hand formerly buried inside of you coming to lift your leg so he can slot his hips in between you. His fingers are dripping wet, but he has eyes for nothing but you beneath him. Rose-red irises meet your own, as if to ask you; ‘is this alright? Do you need me to stop?’

For an assassin – for a man feared around Italy, though they do not know his name – Risotto is never anything but gentlemanly with you. He asks your permission, holds you afterwards, kisses you and soothes you and murmurs your name filled with affection even when you are around the other members of your team.

“Special treatment,” some of them huff, rolling their eyes – but they shoot you sly smirks. They do not begrudge their capo his happiness – not in such a business as theirs.

“Risotto,” you breathe, looking up at him. “Please—”

The please is enough. Your other leg is lifted gently, hitched up so he can press your knees to your chest. You’ve had to experiment with positions plenty, in order to find things that are comfortable with Risotto’s height and his size and your own limitations – but this one always makes him seem to hit you deeper, further. His cock head pushes against the tight ring of your entrance, catching on you--

And his eyes meet yours as he begins to press himself inside of you. There is so much tenderness contained within them that you are almost lost for words. You would not think that eyes like that could make you feel so utterly adored – when you had first met Risotto, they had filled you with fear. Now, though, you look at them and you see all of the things that Risotto is too afraid to say out loud, contained within their multitudes.

He’s slow as he hilts himself, letting you feel the stretch of your walls around him. He’s always slow with you – like he’s afraid you will break. People who see him out and about, you know, never imagine how careful or tender he is.

Your head tips back again, into the pillow, as you see stars. He always fills you up. It’s indescribable, how right that he feels inside of you. You feel like he was made to slot inside of you – every time this happens, you don’t feel quite right until his heavy balls slap against your sex and he has bottomed out, filled you up, and the two of you are as connected as it is possible for two human beings to be.

Your breath catches as he pulls out, as he seeks to find a rhythm that works for both of you. In this position, you cannot quite get purchase on his shoulders – but Risotto sees to that himself, his big hands entangling and entwining with your fingers to press your held hands either side of your head.

The position is intimate, his eyes staying glued to yours even as he slips into a rhythm. His face is softer than you usually see it as he looks down at you; his sculpted lips tilted at the corners in a way that makes your breath feel like it doesn’t fit properly in your lungs.

You adore him so much.

Everything about him makes you feel like you are free-falling through a summer sky. You are, you’re sure, not supposed to be so deliriously happy with anybody, when you’re in a career such as your own. You should not be allowed to love him so freely and deeply – but the world has said you are. The world has dropped Risotto Nero into your lap in all of his occasionally awkward, stoic, handsome glory.

His hips flex in and out. He slides easily, through the slick glide of your sex – stoking up hunger and need, the tight little ball of tension inside of you that signifies your release. You hear the sound of him fucking you, the slap of him bottoming out, and you lose yourself entirely in the sensation of Risotto filling you up.

The world seems to fade into nothing but the place where the two of you are joined; nothing else important, aside from Risotto inside of and above you, his breath unsteady in his chest. The heat that’s gathering low in your belly, as he chases your release along with his own--

After his earlier ministrations, it’s no wonder that yours creeps up on you faster. Your ball of tension is the first one to take too much pressure, to be unable to do anything but explode into pieces – and it does so in a great rush that has you wailing, your mouth opening, as your mind seems to blank out into nothingness at the same time as every feeling in the entire world seems to hit you all in one go.

You’re crying?

You’re sobbing.

Your shoulders are shaking, your lip wobbling, your throat so dry that you can barely gasp air as it feels as though every emotion that you have ever experienced seems to come around to visit you again, the feeling entirely overwhelming. You can’t think. You can’t breathe--

Risotto’s eyes are wide and full of concern, blood and ink gone to uneasiness that this is all his fault. Your eyes are blurry with tears, but you see him open his mouth to speak nonetheless.

“Hey, hey--” his voice is quiet, through the haze of your tears, his hips stilling inside of you. “Tesoro, amore, cara mia--”

The pet names just make your bubbling sob get worse; your breath short. You don’t know what it is! You’re not upset, you’re not angry, you’re not even so happy that you can’t help yourself.

You’re just feeling so, so, so much.

“Risotto,” you breathe out, hiccuping, and your legs are gently dropped from your chest. “Risotto, I’m--”

“Please tell me if something’s wrong,” he murmurs, low and dark. “I’ll stop, I’ll do anything--”

“N-no,” you shake your head, aware that he is still buried inside of you – that your tears are stopping him reaching his full completion. “I-it’s not that—”

He pulls out, carefully, and you miss the feel of him inside of you like a physical ache, even though he is still on top of you. He reaches down and kisses your cheeks, chasing the tears away. A half-laugh bubbles up through the heaving of your chest and the tears clogging up your throat.

“Please tell me,” he repeats, again, all concern. His hands are still entangled with yours, as he leans down and puts his face very close to yours. If you stretched forward, just a little, you could rub your noses together, and the thought makes you smile despite yourself and despite the tear-tracks still drying on your face. “Amore, I promise I won’t be angry at you--”

“It’s just-- s-so much--” You say, eventually – lost for words, because how does one explain quite why they started crying with no real reason to? It had simply felt like everything had washed over you in one go, and your heart had not been able to handle it. Something about your orgasm had pushed forth all of your feelings, whether good or bad, and they had scrambled inside of your chest until all you could do was let tears roll down your face.

“I’m here,” he says, soft and slow. He lets go of your hands. Large arms wrap around you, pulling you up so you’re pressed against the broad expanse of your chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s so warm. Your cheek rests against him; hard muscle and scar tissue. You can hear the beating of his heart, and in the end it’s that – steady, constant, true – that makes the tears finally stop leaking down your face. Your breath calms.

A big hand comes up to stroke through your hair, reassuring.

“I’m always here for you,” he says. “Forever. Through anything.”

“I love you,” you say, all in a rush. You two avoid it; it’s hard to deal with constants when you’re in a business like Passione. ‘I love you’ is not in the vernacular of an assassin – but neither is ‘forever’, and Risotto had said it to you as casually as breathing--

“I love you too,” Risotto says. His voice does not quaver. He is certain and sure; as strong as the arms around you, the chest you’re pressed to, as strong as his convictions always are. He means it.

And you are so, so very glad that he does.

[adorethedistance]

City Slicker, Cowboyfriend - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: Swearing, nerves, mentions of covid.

Words: 2163

Summary: You’re starting to have doubts about moving all the way to Norman until a shopping trip to Ikea turns into the meet-cute you’ve been waiting for.

A/n: This isn’t a request or one of my Valentines day fics, this is just something that I have had stuck in my head ever since Owen posted this on IG and bc I’m facing total writers block with my other pieces I cranked this one out in a few hours to get the ball rolling again. Hopefully. Enjoy this totally unproofed, fluffy madness!! (Because who doesn’t need more Owen content in their life?)

There are perks to moving and one of them is undoubtedly: shopping. For furniture, home decor, kitchen utensils, whatever! Granted, shopping alone can be tedious and, for some, like pulling teeth, thus, I’ve enlisted the help of my best friends Leila and Chelsea. I didn’t even have to bribe them to come because everyone loves getting lost in Ikea. It’s one of the best things about the human experience.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been in an Ikea,” Leila says to no one in particular as we walk through the onslaught of staged bedrooms.

“What?! Are you telling me you don’t get meatballs and lawn chairs on a weekly basis?” My exaggeration makes Leila laugh as she steps into one of the display kitchens. Looking between me and Chelsea she asks,

“What would you do if I turned the handle then a jet of water sprayed out?”

“Die, I guess.”

The three of us continue through the faux house displays and past the mattresses despite Leila’s urge to jump on every single one. As we walk through the section of different lighting features, I sigh with a frown as I think about college. I changed my bachelor’s to an associate’s so I could graduate in two years. Chelsea’s parents moved out here at the end of our senior year in high school, and she moved with them to study in Norman. Leila in turn went to Arizona for an athletic physical therapy gig, leaving me to face college alone in L.A.. In the two years the three of us were apart, we missed each other more and more, and after determining which of the three states we lived in was cheapest, we packed up and headed East. Covid kind of delayed our plans. But after a few months, I picked Leila up from Arizona and together we chased open job opportunities into Norman, Oklahoma. The three of us found an apartment space to live in together and thus, we ended up in Ikea on this fine Sunday afternoon.

Snapping back into reality I see Leila standing directly under a light that’s hanging very low from the ceiling. Once standing directly underneath it, she pulls down her mask and opens her mouth, rising to her toes to eat the fixture.

“Leila, don’t you dare fellate that light bulb! You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

I swear I’m practically their mom when it comes to behaving in public. Figuring they can’t hurt themselves in the college dorm section, I lead them quickly through it and into the giant furniture warehouse section. On the far wall, I see a large poster of a couple smiling brightly behind Chelsea, but I don’t bother to read the text. Leila and I spot the poster at the same time, and the imagery jogs her memory.

“Chelsea, how’s Hunter? Haven’t heard from him slash about him in like a week,” she asks about Chelsea’s boyfriend of a year.

“Oh, yeah, he tore a ligament in his wrist.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, I guess he moved it wrong or something and put too much stress on the area that it just tore. He was moving hay bales into the horse stables.”

“As opposed to the chicken stables,” Leila judges under her breath, which makes me snicker as a result.

“I still can’t believe you’re dating a literal cowboy,” I interject, “Like, I know we’re in Oklahoma, and he’s from Tennessee, but we saw Texas on the way out here and that’s cowboy country. Norman seems more...” I trail off in search of delicate phrasing.

“Just barely marry your cousin territory, but still downing chewing tobacco whilst driving a lifted truck?” Leila hits the nail squarely on the head.

“Yeah, that sounds about right-” Before I can continue giving my thoughts on Norman, I cut myself off at the sound of laughter behind me.

“Sorry. We weren’t trying to eavesdrop, that was just really funny.” When I turn around, I see a guy roughly our age dressed in all black with bleach-blonde hair, speaking through light, broken laughter.

“No worries,” I dismiss the apology as we pass by one another, and out from the dressers section. The three of us continue into the different sections, and come to a stop once I see we’re exactly where we need to be: dining room shit!

“Cowboy boyfriends aside- oh my gosh: cowboy boyfriends. Cowboyfriends,” I say getting lost in my new terminology. Both of my friends share a mix of laughter and gasps and my ingeniousness. “Anyway. Cowboyfriends aside, how is Avery?” I ask Leila who begins blushing madly.

“She’s really good. We were just making plans for our three year anniversary, which reminds me to tell y’all I’m flying back to Phoenix to surprise her.”

“Awwww,” I nearly tear up and the sweet image of Leila and her girlfriend reuniting, “Y’all are so cute. Both of you and your partners. You know, being the only single friend in this group has made life suck a lot. Y’all are so happy and in love and not dead inside. Honestly? Get fucked both of you.” Despite my harsh words, the three of us break into a lighthearted conglomerate of laughter.

“We’ll find you someone… eventually.” Leila pretends she also can’t hear the last part of her sentence despite being the one saying it.

“I know, but I don’t think it’s in the cards for me to find love in Norman. I don’t need a cowboyfriend, and we’re not gonna find a true city slicker here either.”

When I finish my statement, I see our blonde friend seems to have followed us. I observe he comes to a stop in front of another guy in a flannel with a shopping cart. The way they jump into conversation with one another parallels the animated body language Leila, Chelsey, and I share. I continue to watch their exchange as Chelsea speaks up.

“Maybe you need someone right down the middle.”

“Yeah, like a guy who drives a truck but uses it to transport Ikea furniture instead of a whole ass tree that he’ll carve into a chair.” A small laugh escapes my lips, at both Leila’s statement, and the scene ahead of Blondie pretending to strangle his friend over something. I’m snapped out of my nosy yet endeared stare as a third guy appears. He’s a sandy blonde with billowing locks tucked under a trucker hat. And he came from behind me and my two friends to place something in their cart which keeps his back toward me. When he turns back around, my mind goes blank. Any thoughts of shopping for dining room chairs has left my mind. He is wearing a face mask, but he has such nice eyes that he could have a giraffe snout under the mask for all I care. I see him look up from the shelves, directly into my eyes. We stay locked for a moment before he breaks away and turns to his friends. I slowly turn to my friends too who are both giving me the exact same look of excitement and conspiracy.

“He’s really cute,” I sigh out with a laugh, swooning much louder than I’d have preferred.

“He has a face mask on,” Leila points out, her expression dropping from excited to cynical.

“Still! I can just tell.”

“Girl, what are you doing? Talk to him!” Chelsea whisper-shrieks.

“Shhh, I cannot take you anywhere!”

Glancing back at the handsome stranger, we connect eyes once more and I feel my face heat furiously as I realize he was already looking at me. I’m the first to break; I consult my friends for the best course of action and as I’m turned 180 to face them, Chelsea starts pretending to hyperventilate excitedly. Leila looks over my shoulder for me, discreetly surveying the other trio in the dining chairs aisle.

“Don’t look now, but he’s talking to his friends and looking between them and you.” I can hear in her voice she’s trying her best not to smile despite wearing a face mask.

“Should I give him my number?”

“Yes!”

“What are you waiting for?”

“I’m nervous! What if he’s gay?”

“Will you just get over there? I promise you a gay man would not be wearing what he’s wearing right now. Maybe a lesbian,” Leila adds for good measure.

“You guys are freaking me out, I need you to leave so I know you’re not judging my flirting.” I shoo my best friends out of the aisle as inconspicuous as possible. Kinda wish blondie would’ve done the same because when I turn back around, the other trio hasn’t moved and the only one looking at me is the one in all black. He quickly averts his eyes though and I take one last deep breath before walking over to the stranger. I tilt my chin up ever so slightly to fake a sense of confidence that I unmistakably don’t have right now.

“Hey.” Really, Y/n? Hey??

“Hey,” he greets back breathily. Why is he nervous? I’m the one who gets to be nervous! Man, he’s really cute. I can’t fuck this one up. I’m not doing so stellar right now. Perhaps you should say something else, dipshit?

“Uhm,” I should’ve scripted this. “I just wanted to say that-” You’ve got this. Don’t be a bummer. “I-uh, I think you’re really cute and I was wondering if I could give you my number?” My speech is slow, each word deliberate in spite of the fact that I feel like I’m having an out of body experience right now. I’m not the one in control of the words that are coming out of my mouth.

Upon realizing why I walked over, blondie’s friends take the question as a sign to leave and less than inconspicuously back away from the two of us. Trucker hat spares them one last glance over his left shoulder and judging by the look flannel gives him, they were definitely talking about me in their team huddle.

“Uh, yeah. I was gonna ask for your instagram- if you have one, that is.”

“I’m cool with both.” The two of us reach for our phones and unlock them with anxious hands. I move to hand him my phone with instagram open, and he trades me for his which has a new contact open. I type my name and put my favorite heart emoji next to it after triple checking the number is correct. Wow, you’re just so ballsy today, Y/n!!!!! I give him back the phone, scanning the instagram account he’s just opened and followed for me. I hear him exhale a little harder as a small laugh and can only imagine it’s from the stupid heart emoji.

“Owen,” I say in a hushed, endeared voice, fully not intending to say it out loud. “You have a million followers?! Oh, you’re an actor. OH… You’re an actor.” I really don’t need to be speaking my entire thought process right now in the middle of this Ikea. Exhaling a small laugh of my own, I see we already have a small bunch of mutuals, one of which is… Chelsea??? Looking up from my phone I turn around to see Chelsea and Leila watching the interaction from around the corner of one of the industrial shelves.

In the flurry of scattered likes, I see him find my account and follow me back. I accept the request, nervous of what he thinks of me without a face mask on. What do I think of him without a face mask on? Going back to his account, seeing his entire face is even better than just his eyes. I was right, Leila: he is cute.

“You’re really pretty,” I hear him almost sigh as he combs through the grid of my account. The comment makes my heart beat all the much faster and I finally look upward to get a glimpse of Owen in the flesh. Still as beautiful as the last time I checked!

Sparing a quick glance over my shoulder, he looks back down at me and laughs,

“I think your friends got tired of waiting.”

“I think yours did, too.” The other members of our trios come back into the aisle we had kicked them from more or less two minutes ago. We connect eyes once more and stare longingly, wordlessly at one another, so lost in each other’s beauty our friends have to break up the staring contest of infatuation.

“Y/n?” I hear Leila behind me.

“Uh, well, I have to get back to chair shopping, but- text me later?”

“For sure.”

“For sure,” I mimic his voice.

“Guess I’ll see you later. Y/n.”

“Yeah.” And with that, we’re pulled apart by our respective best friends, through the vast expanse of the Norman Ikea.

“What was that?” Chelsea asks, excitedly linking arms with me.

“I don’t know I- Wait, you have some explaining to do!”

*** 

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics​ @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret​ @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner​ @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading​ @dmcfarland1@joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @lilyjoyner 

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

It’s Not About Dibs

Ron Speirs x Reader

Oh HELL yes! This is for you @teenmagazines​, hope you’re ready for a doozy! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Talbert was a smooth son of a bitch, you had to give him that much.

You knew he was a flirt, had known it from the moment you’d met him back in Georgia. Being a nurse meant you were accustomed to feeling the lingering looks of the men you helped, it came with the territory, really. It only made sense- these men saw so few women during these years of vigorous training that the first flash of skirt was bound to catch their attention. It was natural, understandable. 

But Floyd? Floyd was absolutely shameless when it came to flirting with you. Where the traumas of war had numbed any sense of charm in most of the men who had initially tried to pursue you, Tab seemed to only grow more determined, bolder in his flirtatious quips.

Normally, you laughed and brushed it off- flirting back for fun before the two of you would inevitably be called back to your positions. It hadn’t ever gone too far, the both of you having some unspoken understanding that it was all done in good fun and that nothing was probably ever going to happen. 

Tonight, however, was a different story entirely.

Part of the reason you’d never truly given Floyd a second thought was due to the fact that it was common knowledge that Talbert would flirt with anything with a vagina and a smile, but if you were being completely honest with yourself- you knew it had more to do with your complicated infatuation with a certain Captain from Dog Company.

Ron Speirs was a….problem for you, to say the least.

He was brooding and intimidating and sharp-tongued, yes- but he was also one of the most distractingly handsome men you had ever met. And the bastard knew it, too.

From the moment Meehan had asked him to further your education in hand to hand combat, Ron Speirs had made it clear that he knew exactly how distracting he could be. Between the smug smirks he’d shoot your way and the borderline lewd take-down positions he’d work the two of you into, Ron always made sure to whisper corrections to the shell of your ear in such a way that your breath would catch almost painfully in your throat.

“Can’t leave your side open like that, pretty girl.”

“You’re gonna have to use your hips to twist out of this one.”

“You gonna get yourself into a whole world of trouble if you squirm like that, darlin’.”

It pissed you off, it turned you on.

Under his tutelage, you’d excelled-  learning how to break away from an attacker and how to strike to kill and how to use someone’s momentum against them. His praise made you preen and you’d be lying if you said that pinning him underneath didn’t you gave you some sort of proud rush.

A strange, heady familiarity had formed- one that never really went anywhere but still seemed to connect you to each other like an electric current. 

After dropping into Normandy, however, his strange charm had turned into a nearly cruel protectiveness. 

More often than not you found yourself being pushed aside and dragged away from the men you were trying to treat, overlooked when it came to picking which nurses were to take rotations on the frontlines. The few times you managed to actually get out there and do your fucking job, Ron was hovering so tensely behind you that you found yourself making mistakes or tripping over yourself. And, worst of all, he didn’t even seem to acknowledge you as a woman anymore.

If anything, you were just another mouth to feed. 

Another face he had to deal with.

The only time any of that had wavered was in the forests around Foy, when he’d had no say in the fact that you were to be Dog Company's medic.

The fail of firepower and shattering trees was nothing short of spectacular- a symphony of destruction that scared you as much as if amazed you. Never before had you felt the earth around you quake and rattle with such violent power that you truly believed it could crack open and swallow you whole.

And through the entirety of it, Ron Speirs had been there- shielding you from the onslaught of falling shards of timber and shrapnel with every inch of his body, holding your helmet onto your head as he used his body to shelter you from the destruction happening just above your heads. 

Any and all of your screams were encouraged into the meat of his chest as he held you so close you wondered if the two of you might fuse together, his grip on you refusing to let you respond to the desperate cries of “medic” until he was absolutely sure that the onslaught had ceased for the time being.

He’d kissed you for the first time during one of these barrages, when you hadn’t screamed at all and simply clung to him as if you feared he’d be torn away from you if you didn’t. Ron had shouted your name through the chaos, and when you’d turned your head to look at him he’d crushed his lips against yours with the same anxious desperation you’d been holding him with- kissing you until your head swam and all you could hear and see and taste and feel was him, him him.

Your lips had been swollen by the time it all became quiet again, your body feeling warmer than it had in weeks and panting up at him like an idiot.

When the scream for a medic rang out, he’d hungrily kissed you once more before sitting back enough to allow you to leave the foxhole, his eyes wild as he nodded for you to go.

“Be careful,” he’d commanded, chest heaving as he looked at you. “Come back when you’re done.”

That had been nearly two weeks ago, and when you had come back he’d acted as if nothing had happened. The next day, when word of relief medics had reached the encampment, he’d sent you away again.

You should’ve known nothing would change, but it still stung.

Which brought you back to Floyd Talbert.

A group of you were sitting around a table while some of the other men played cards nearby, a bottle of some gold liquid being passed around to anyone who wanted some.

Tab, lubed up and feeling confident, was whispering some sweet thing into your ear that you were just tipsy enough to blush at- something about how ‘unfair it was that’ you were so ‘beautiful and smart’ and how sad it was that he hadn’t had the chance to ‘do anything about it’.

“I’m serious, Y/N, it’s goddamn heartbreaking, knowing you’re right here and no one is making you feel as good as you deserve to feel-”

You rolled your eyes, head lolling to the side so you can squint critically at him.

“And how good do I deserve to feel, Floyd? Hm?”

His smile was pure sex, and when he wet his lips with this tongue you couldn’t help but watch with heavy-lidded eyes.

His hand is warm on your thigh, and when he brings his forehead to rest against yours you can taste the alcohol on his breath.

“Oh, Babygirl- there aren’t enough words in the world to describe what I wanna do to you…”

The finger he drags along the seam of your pants between your legs had you inhaling sharply, heat rising to your cheeks as you somehow manage not to jump at the contact.

God, when was the last time anyone had touched you there…?

In your mind’s eye, you get a flash of memory, remembering the time Ron had shown you how to wrestle your thighs around a man’s neck and pin him down. 

He’d looked so proud when you’d finally managed to do it, patting your thigh with a mumble of “that’s it, good job”

Just as your lips part to reply, a hand grabs heavily at your shoulder and you’re being pulled up from your seat bodily, snapping out of your carnal daze like you’ve been splashed with a bucket of cold water.

It takes you a moment to realize that Ron is the owner of that hand, and is currently fisting Floyd’s jacket and all but throwing him to the ground.

“Ron!”

You barely hear yourself shout his name over the sound of everyone else in the room shooting to their feet and rushing over, no one stopping the Captain but no one silently watching either.

A wave of protests and cries to take it easy floods the room, and only you are close enough to hear Ron’s venomous accusations being grit out through his teeth.

“Have you lost your goddamned mind, boy? Is this how you engage with a fellow soldier? Getting them drunk and copping a feel, huh?”

Floyd, to his credit, says nothing as Ron hovers over him face blank and hands raised submissively at his sides. What he probably shouldn’t have done, however, was let a smirk curl the corners of his full lips and shoot a wink your way.

Ron all but snarls at that, roughly letting the man go before standing up straight and turning on you.

“Let’s go,” he snaps icily. “You’re done for the night.”

You protest, backing away from him about two steps before he grabs you by the arm and is hauling you through the throng that had assembled around him and Tab and marching towards the door.

“Jesus, Ron! What’s your problem?”

He ignores you, storming the both of you out of the building you had previously been in, across the street, and pulling you behind him into the house he had usurped from a family earlier in the day.

“Ron, you’re hurting my arm, stop it!”

The grip on your bicep softens instantly, his fingers wrapping around your sleeve and dragging you by the fabric instead. 

By the time you manage to shake him off, he’s already let you go, having brought the two of you into a room that must have belonged to one of the children who’d been temporarily displaced.

You stumble a few steps before catching your footing, anger flooding your veins with a rage you hadn’t felt in quite a while.

You gape at his back as he closes the door behind him, one of his hands coming up to smooth his dark hair back into place. He’s breathing hard but so are you, and when he doesn’t turn back around to look at you you decide to take matters into your own hands.

He does seem surprised when you grab his arm and yank him around to face you, his piercing eyes going wide for just a moment before becoming cold once again.

“What in the absolute fuck is your problem?!” you screech, smacking his hand when it begins to rise and reach for you. “No, NO! Don’t fucking touch me! What the fuck? What’s the matter with you?”

His glare does nothing to intimidate you, if anything it fuels your anger.

Poking his chest with a hard jab of your finger, you step into him and let him have it.

“You have no right to manhandle me like that, you hear me? You had no right to spoil everyone’s night like that—”

“I’m your commanding officer, Y/L/N,” he spat quietly, batting your hand away with all the attention he would give a pestering fly. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot do—!”

“Eugene Roe and Spina are my fucking superiors, Speirs- I’m not one of your soldiers and you don’t get to pick and chose to torment me when you feel like flexing your authority! Not with me, not with any of the medics! Only Winters can do that and you know that—!”

The look he gives you is nothing less than a blaring warning, his jaw ticking with rage.

“Get out of my face, Nurse. You forget who you’re talking to—”

You smirk. “You didn’t seem to mind my face being this close to yours a couple of weeks ago, or was that another power trip on your part?”

“Y/N, I’m warning you—”

“Why? What are you going to do? Send me away again? Get all high and mighty just because Floyd has the balls to like me and fucking do something about it and you don’t?”

His hands snap out and roughly grab your face before smashing his lips to yours so hard your teeth clink together, the kiss cruel and overpowering and so goddamn hot it nearly makes your toes curl.

Your hands shove at him, anger and lust and hurt and sadness all hitting you at once and making your head spin.

“Ron, Ron! HEY!” 

You’re able to turn your face from the kiss enough to bark at him, moving to step away only to realize he’s walked you back so you hit a wall softly. Your hands are still fisted in his shirt and his hands have moved from your face to your arms and for a few moments the two of you just stand there gasping for air and openly glaring at each other.

When you finally collect yourself enough to steady your breathing, you let your head fall back against the wall with a dull thud, wetting your lips a few times before you feel like you can actually speak.

“That’s….this isn’t fair. You don’t get to do shit like that—”

“Like what?” he interrupts, taking a step closer to you and hissing when you shove him back.

“That. you don't get to, fucking- fucking treat me like shit and then get all possessive when I’m not even, when we’re not...you don’t get to do that—!”

“He had his fucking hands all over you.” Ron’s voice is steel on stone, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes.

“I wanted his fucking hands on me.”

Ron frowns at that, and you frown right back.

“You made yourself pretty clear, sending me away like some nuisance after I saved your men when no one else would. If you hate me so much, why’d you kiss me in the first place—?”

He’s shaking his head before you finish speaking, “It had nothing to do with that, I don’t fucking hate you—”

You scoff. “No?”

“No, you stupid girl—”

“Don’t call me stupid, you fucking prick. I’m not the one who results to schoolyard antics when I get a crush on someone—!”

Ron barks a laugh at that. “I don’t have a crush on you.”

“No?”

“No.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I left right now and let Floyd Talbert absolutely destroy me tonight?”

He says your name as another warning, and you can’t stop the amused expression that crosses your face as you shake your head.

“Unbelievable. You’re such a child.”

This time he has no reply, but the look he gives you is answer enough.

No, I would definitely mind.

Letting your eyes squeeze shut, you take a deep breath.

“What do you want from me, Ron?”

The hands that had been gripping your forearms falter slightly, and you hear the catch of his breath at the exhaustion in your voice.

When you open your eyes again, you see a look of confusion on his face, as if he doesn’t truly know what he wants either. Like he hadn’t gotten that far in his possessive thinking.

You both stand there for a few moments in silence, your breaths slowing and your fires smoldering into a controllable flame.

You take one of your hands from his chest to tuck some of your hair behind your ear, not realizing that your bun had come loose at some point.

Ron’s eyes follow the movement, and when you go to let your arm hang loosely by your side he takes your wrist and gently brings it back up to rest against his chest. He keeps his touch light enough that you can pull your hand away if you really wanted to.

You don’t.

When you begin to turn your head away Ron says your name again, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it or known it could be. 

“Ron,” you reply, too tired to argue any more.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question catches you off guard, and when you meet his gaze you see a flash of anxiety in his eyes.

The same way he’d looked at you before he’d kissed you in the forest.

You take a deep breath. “Not if you’re going to treat me like crap and send me away afterward.”

He studies you for a moment before he nods minutely, eyes flickering down to your lips as he hesitantly takes a step into you again, the hand not holding yours coming up to hold your jaw.

When he kisses you this time it is sweet, his full mouth plush against yours and nothing like the way he’s kissed you before.

He does nothing untoward, allowing you to deepen the kiss in your own time and inhaling sharply once you do.

His hair is soft between your fingers, softer than it had any right to be for someone so rough.

As you tilt your head to the side he just holds you, hands framing your face as if you’re made of glass before he finally breaks away and takes a step back to catch your reaction.

“That was...different.”

He smiles briefly at your response, a warmth in his gaze only serving to make you flush deeper.

“Bad, or—?”

No, no. Not bad,” you rush to say, taking a deep breath before shooting him a nervous smile. “It was...nice.”

“I should’ve kissed you like that the first time.”

You shake your head at that. “No, I mean- I didn’t mind it, uh….before.”

His thumb brushes across your bottom lip you swallow nervously, unused to this sort of softness from him.

“I didn’t send you away because I don't think you’re a good medic. You should- I should have made that clear.... before.”

You nod quietly. “Okay.”

“You’re, you’re really good- one of the best nurses I’ve seen—”

“No need to lay it on so thick, Ron. I already know how good I am.”

When he smirks and looks down he looks like a nervous little boy in front of you, and when his cheeks pinken you let yourself smile.

It’s obvious this is new territory for him, and the fact that he’s even trying means the world to you. 

You’re still mad, still embarrassed by how wildly inappropriate his behavior was earlier, but you’re also aware of how difficult these little admissions of remorse must be for someone like him.

How difficult any sort of feelings other than rage and duty has become for all of you.

Although, you doubted he’d express any of these newfound values to anyone else.

“I don’t know how I’m going to break it to Floyd,” you mutter, winking at Ron when his head snaps up and he narrows his eyes. “Boy’s had it bad for me since we were stateside—”

“I’m sure he’ll get over it.” Ron interrupts, raising his eyebrow when you frown at his tone. “Besides, I outrank him. He wouldn’t disobey a direct order.”

You scoff at that. “I don’t think you can pull rank when calling ‘dibs’ on a girl, Ron. That’s not how ranks works.”

“Oh no?” he challenges. “Just you watch me.”

Before you can quip something back to him he gives you another long, slow kiss that effectively shuts you up.

“And, just for the record,” he says between kisses. “I don’t call ‘dibs'. If anything, I call finders keepers.”

When you pout he grins wickedly down at you.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re such a child. I’m not a prize,  I’m a catch”

“Damn right you are.”

And he gets right to proving it.

~ ~ ~

WOOHOO HERE IT BY MY LOVELIES I DID A THING AND IT MAY BE CRAP BUT IT’S MY CRAP AND I’M PLEASED WITH IT FOR NOW, OKAY?! 

LOVE YOU GUYS AND THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE LATELY, IT MEANS THE WORLD!!!

Taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday​ @sunsetmando​

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Quarantine: A Love Story {19}

Chris Evans x Reader Series

Warning: Flashback, TRIGGERING CONTENT, Violence, Heavy Cursing, Heavy Angst, Fluff, PLENTY OF WORDS, Plot

**Mention of PHYSICAL ABUSE {ONE HIT} 

DO NOT READ IF MENTIONS OF THIS ARE UNCOMFORTABLE

Words: 7.7k

I hope you guys enjoy this. If you enjoyed this LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG.

As always, thank you for reading!!! ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

Previous Chapters:  Q1 |  Q2 |  Q3 |  Q4 |  Q5 |  Q6 |  Q7 |  Q8 |  Q9 | Q10 | Q11 | Q12 | Q13 | Q14 | Q15 | Q16 | Q17 | Q18  | 

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Chris-

“No. No. Stop. No!”

 Those were the sounds that stirred him from his sleep. Normally he was dead to the world, but since quarantine began, he was a lite sleeper. With you beside him, he found himself somewhere in the middle. He turned his head around to face you; the sleep still fogging his vision.

 “Please, stop. Stop. No. Noo!”

 You were whining now. There was no way this was a good dream; it was a nightmare. You were lying on your back with the sheet stretched across your breasts. Suddenly you began thrashing from side to side. This was more than a nightmare. He jumped into action, springing to his knees from his laying position on his stomach. As he was about to touch you, you flailed your legs out, kicking the sheet off of your body. Your scream was gut-wrenching and piercing. So much so that he could hear the animals in the shrubbery surrounding the cabin stir and rustles through the foliage.

 “Y/N!”

Your arms flung out, and you began physically trying to fight him. He tried to grab hold of your arms to still your body, but you were surprisingly strong—stronger than he’d realized. As he dodged your nails and an onslaught of blows, he grabbed your biceps and held you to the bed.

 “Y/N!”

 That was when your whimpers began as you continued to thrash. Tears rolled down the sides of your face, and his heart sank. He hated seeing you cry.

 “Y/N, wake up!”

 Your body stilled, then your eyes flew open. You didn’t look at him, though. You stared straight up into the ceiling with them wide as if you’d seen the most terrifying thing in the world.

 “Y/N?”

 Cautiously he released your arms. You didn’t move to get up. You didn’t begin to speak either. You laid there staring at the ceiling with tears streaming down your face. Your whimpers increased, and he noticed your body move as if someone were holding you down while you were trying to get up. You shook as he’d never seen anyone shake. It was an immobilized shake.

 He was beginning to freak out and was ready to call Scott at this point. He’d never seen you like this, and he didn’t know what to do. The only logical thing to him was to try to shake you. It was evident to him now that you were not awake, you must have been in a weird in-between state of a dream and a sleepwalking episode. He didn’t even know you sleepwalked.

 “Y/N. Wake up. Come on, baby, wake up.”

 Through his soft coaxing and gentle shakes, you didn’t move. That was when your mouth opened. It looked like a scream, and it should have been loud, but it was silent. There was terror in your eyes; he recognized it. He’d seen something similar to it before.

 “Fuck. Y/N, wake up!”

 Your body lurched, and you bolted upright, and seconds later, sprang off the bed. You darted across the room to the window and nearly ran right into it. He was on his feet in seconds to wrap his arms around your bare midsection pulling you back and away before you injured yourself.

 You screamed again.

 “No, no, no! Don’t touch me. Please don’t hurt me. Please, please, please!”

 He held you still, though you tried to fight your way free. Something in him said, don’t let go.

 “Shh, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never hurt you.”

 His grip around your midsection tightened, and the two of you sank to the floor. The shake of your body was intense. You shivered like a naked woman in the forest at the height of a winter storm. You rambled and repeated the same thing. “Please don’t hurt me.” The only thing he thought to do was something his mother did for him when he was a little boy when he was inconsolable. He sang to you. he sang the only thing he could think you’d like—A Whole New World from Aladdin, one of your favorites.

 With his back pressed to the cool window, he held you to his chest. When you shook uncontrollably, he squeezed tighter. When your shaking decreased, he still held you tight. The fire of your tears that streamed on him continued for what felt like hours. He didn’t bother talking. He just held you and allowed you to continue to ramble the same phrase. When you stopped, he took it as a good sign, but a few minutes later, you began again. Still, he sang, refusing to stop. By the time your body stopped shaking, and your whimpers stopped, he was hoarse, but he didn’t care.

 As quickly as this episode began, you pulled away from him. Instead of protesting, he let you do as you wished. Without even looking back to him, you walked out of the bedroom, grabbing your robe off the floor in the process. He sat there, stunned, speechless, and completely confused as to what the hell just happened.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 -Y/N-

-Seven Years Ago-

 “I’m never going to let you go. Ever. I love you too much.”

 Theo’s voice was thick with emotion, but it was also filled with something else—possession or closer to obsession. Theo’s hand at the nape of your neck tangled in your hair was forceful and spoke of possession. You’d never been afraid of him before, but something said you should be. Over the last few weeks, his actions had gotten more and more erratic. He was late coming home, kept his phone close to him at all times. He even locked himself in the bathrooms when he used it or showered and was more controlling than usual. Every time you confronted him about things, he simply said he had a lot going on at work and was under a lot of stress. You tried to be the perfect girlfriend, you kept the apartment clean, cooked his dinner, held it down at home, and set the sheets on fire, all the while working full time and keeping your life in order.

 Theo brought his hand around to your throat, held it gently, and pulled you to him to claim your lips. The way he kissed you was almost like the way he’d kissed you at the beginning of your relationship—almost. A few hours later, you were in bed with him, plowing away, making your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your nails sink into his skin. The next morning, he was gone before you woke, leaving a simple note in his wake.

 The routine continued like this for weeks. Every time you brought up his weird behavior, he’d tell you how much he loved you, hold you possessively, and put it on you in a way that had you completely mentally fucked for the rest of the day. Then the next day, he’d bring home a gift—a sparkling gift. You knew how MO but dumb and in love and all that.

 “Are you sure this is what you want?” Theo’s kiss on your stomach paused then he looked at you.

 “What do you mean?”

 “Tomorrow is the day. That means ten or so more hours to run for the hills,” you teased.

 “Is that what you want?”

 You stretched and tucked the pillow under your head more. Theo rolled on top of you, wrapped his hands around your wrist, and pressed them to the bed.

 “I’ve already told you. You’re mine. I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

 “I didn’t say I was going; I said you could run for the hills,” you corrected.

 “Never.” His eyes bore into you in a way that made goosebumps flare up all over your skin. You bit your bottom lip.

 “You don’t have to worry, baby. I love you. You’re perfect. We’re perfect together. I want this.”

 Theo stared into your eyes then kissed you passionately. Before things got heavy, Theo pulled away. “This time tomorrow, we’re one day closer to becoming a family.”

 You smiled at the warmth you felt.

 The next day you were both seated in your doctor’s office talking about your options for starting a family. Theo was very open about the fact that he was practically shooting blanks. To some, that would have been a deal-breaker or even a reason to skip protection, but for you—it was neither. You were religious with protection and never really thought you wanted kids. When he brought up wanting them with you, you were stunned, but you couldn’t help but feel flattered and even more enamored with him.

 You listened to the doctor talk about the invitro process, what to expect, and the steps. As he spoke, Theo looked as if he was paying the utmost attention to everything the doctor said. An hour later, you’d made a plan and scheduled the appointment that would change your entire life. Four weeks.

 -Week One-

 Your entire world flipped on a Tuesday night. You’d gone away for business for the weekend on a long trip. You were away for six days making plans for your future together. You planned to come back two days early to surprise Theo. When you arrived at your apartment, the glow of light in the windows was strange to you. Theo should have been asleep; it was after midnight. You pushed it to the side but decided it was the perfect opportunity to surprise and seduce him.

 Quietly you walked inside and heard slow, sultry music. You placed your bag on the floor and quietly walked through the apartment. The music played through the entire apartment thanks to the surround sound system. Even if you took heavy steps, you wouldn’t be heard. Once you looked through the living room, dining, kitchen, and office and saw no Theo, you knew he was upstairs. As you passed the dining room again, you saw a finished bottle of wine but no glass.

 Moving up the stairs, you began taking off your jacket, preparing to take everything else off. As you approached your bedroom door, you began on the buttons to your blouse. When you swung open the door, you expected to see Theo in your bed, either asleep or watching some stupid game on tv. Instead, what you saw had your stomach falling to the floor.

 Theo’s bare ass was facing you with one leg braced on your bed and the other planted on the wooden floor. Everything was silent in your head for a few moments before the sounds of the room filled your ears. a woman’s obnoxious moans filled the room and blended with Theo’s pants and grunts. He was thrusting into her from behind with reckless abandon. You didn’t know how long you stood there watching your fiancé fuck another woman right before your eyes.

 Inside your head, a whole spiel played. You dashed across the room, grabbed your heavy-duty, old-time scissors, and approached at the same time Theo turned. From there, you did the only natural thing, snipped off his dick. Blood spurted everywhere as he screamed bloody murder. Once the woman realized what had happened, she began screaming too. Your response to that was only natural too. You swung out and slashed her face. The two of them dropped to the ground writing in agony as you watched.

 When you shook your head and came back to reality, neither of them knew you were standing there. You were sure you hadn’t made a sound, but she was the one to turn and notice you. Her shriek and panic brought Theo’s eyes to you. The terror that flashed across his face was classic. That was when you moved. Quickly you ran down the stairs, grabbed your jacket and your bag, and ran out of the apartment. You could hear Theo’s shouts behind you in the house, but you didn’t stop. Once inside your car, you sat there in complete shock. Before you could put the keys into the ignition, there was Theo dick swinging pounding on the window.

 “Open the door, baby. Let me explain. Please. It’s not what it looks like.”

 You drove off three seconds later. You fully expected to move on from there and never look back, but love was a funny thing. It often made fools of the smartest of women. You were no exception. Two weeks later, after countless attempts of apologizing, pleading, bargaining, and begging, you took him back. He was on his best behavior for a week. He sat through your arguing, the death glares you gave him, and your questioning. You could tell he hated every second of it, but you didn’t care.

 Then your life flipped again. He was late coming home from work, and you were ready to claw his eyes out. You’d tried to keep your mind off of the possibility of what he was doing. You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt that he was working late and lost track of time. You tried and, for the most part, was successful. That was until he came home. He was clearly drunk. You could smell the Gin coming off of him. He smelled like he’d bathed in it rather than water. He reeked. Maybe you wouldn’t have exploded if he’d come in with an apology, but he came in singing some stupid bar song that set you off.

 Still, you gritted your teeth and continued working in your office. When he came into your office and had the nerve to come around to kiss you, you smelled the perfume that mingled with the alcohol. You saw red. You’d had enough and didn’t bite your tongue letting him know how pissed you were. It was like oil and fire. Once you spat your venom, he was triggered and went off on you. he criticized you for how you’d been behaving the last few weeks, compared you to a prison warden, and even insinuated that you were insecure. That made you even angrier, and when he had the audacity to say you should focus your attention on fucking him better than she did to make him stay, you blew up. Your hand swung out and connected hard with his cheek. You’d never slapped someone so hard.

 The house was silent. Theo’s face was turned from you in the position your hand left him in. you didn’t predict what came next. Theo swung around and connected his own closed fist hit to your face. The force of the blow sent you falling to the floor knocking over a lap in the process. Everything was hazy, but you made out Theo climbing on top of you to slap you twice before he wrapped his hands around your throat. Everything went black then.

 When you woke up, you didn’t know what where you were or what had happened. The only thing you knew was that your head was pounding as if you were in the middle of a beat down circle, and everyone was pounding hammers on your skull rather than rattling you with punches and kicks. It took you several long minutes to open your eyes and even more time for your vision to steady. Once it did, you saw a huge bouquet on the pillow beside you. The pain was indescribable, but you managed to sit up against the headboard.

 All around you, there were flowers of every color and classification--reds, yellows, pinks, oranges, purples, and even whites. Every few seconds, your vision blurred then returned to normal. For the life of you, you couldn’t remember anything from the last few days. It was blank. Theo walked into the room, carrying two more bouquets and a sheepish look on his face. He began to ask for something, but you interrupted him, asking what happened. From there, his disposition changed. He said you were robbed, said he came home, and you were passed out on the floor beaten with everything disheveled. You couldn’t remember, so you went with it. He even took you down to the police station to file a report.

 The next two weeks passed in a haze. Your brain just didn’t want to function properly. The more you tried to remember what happened, the more the memories eluded you. It frustrated you beyond belief, but Theo never let you dwell on it too much. While he was the perfect boyfriend, you saw cracks in his demeanor. He was more controlling than usual and was even more glued to his phone. Sometimes the things he said always gave you a feeling that there was a hidden meaning. The night you found him staring at you in the dark was the night you felt the first official stirs of fear.

  -December 2013-

 It was ten o’clock when your memories came back. The lamp in the living room dropped and shattered, creating the loudest sound you’d ever heard—or so you thought. In seconds you were transported back to that night. You stood there in terror, watching it all play out like it was the first time. The more you remembered, the more your body shook. The more you saw, the more fear filled you. Once you remembered him hitting you and climbing on top of you, everything stopped.

 A boiling rage that you’d never felt before filled you and battled with the immense fear you felt. He’d hit you, and it wasn’t a tiny slap or an accident. He’d punched you, then climbed on top of you to continue to hit you. When it all came back to you, you stood there with his eyes on you. It was like he knew you remembered.

 “Y/N--,” he slowly began as he took cautions steps to you.

 You stepped back.

 “Okay, hold on. Baby.”

 You took a few more steps back, not daring to take your eyes off of him.

 “Don’t, baby—okay. It was an accident.”

 “Accident?”

 “Yes, an accident.”

 Your back bumped into the wall. “Accident? Theo, you punched me!”

 “I didn’t mean to. You just kept shouting and accusing me, and I got angry and snapped. I didn’t mean to.”

 The more he spoke, the more scared you became. The more fear you felt, the angrier you became. They were now warring powerfully within you.

 “You didn’t mean to?!”

 Your shout boomed off the walls. You saw his intention, and before he actually moved, you sprang into action, running to the kitchen for a weapon. Once you touched a knife, Theo was there turning you, yanking it from your hand to clatter on the floor. He held your throat and squeezed.

 “Jesus, Y/N. Why do you have to be like that? Now I’m angry.” His second hand joined the first, and his grip tightened.

 “It was an accident. I didn’t mean for it to happen. You can’t hold it against me. You can’t hate me for it. I don’t know what I’ll do if you hate me, dewdrop. You got me so angry. You shouldn’t make me angry like that. I can’t—I can’t control--.”

 He sounded erratic and crazy, and the way he looked at you told you just how far gone he was.

 “Don’t leave me. No, you won’t leave me. You will stay. Won’t you, Y/N? You will stay with me. Stay and have our baby. You’re mine, all mine. Do you hear me?”

 His voice became more forceful. His grip became more forceful and dangerous. Feeling your windpipes closing, you gasped for air, trying to not blackout.

 “Tell me you’re all mine. Tell me you won’t go. Tell me!”

 You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

 “Tell me!”

 Theo released your throat, but only a little. You took a slow deep raspy breath, one that hurt.

 “Tell me, or I swear I’ll kill myself and I’ll take you with me so we’ll be together forever. Tell me, or I swear I’ll use this knife.”

 “I’m yours,” you forced out.

 “What?”

 “I’m—yours.”

 “And you won’t leave.”

 Theo stared in your eyes, and from the look in there, you knew he was serious. He would kill you and then himself.

 “I won’t—leave.”

 Theo released your throat and clung to you, holding you tightly. You didn’t dare move.

 You had to go on as if it was business as usual. The rest of the night, you watched him. As you served your dinner and sat across from him, he looked normal. He looked like he hadn’t beaten the shit out of you a few weeks ago or that he hadn’t threatened to kill you and himself if you didn’t stay. You didn’t know who he was. You doubted you ever did. Theo went on telling trivial stories of work or things with his friends and even reminiscing on memories of the two of you. The entire time you couldn’t eat, you just sat there until he forced you to but not with words—only looks.

 You didn’t sleep that night, or the next, or the next. You doubted he did either. He forced you to sleep beside him as if nothing had happened. Forced you to carry on with your life as you’d planned. He expected you to go through with the embryo implantation. He expected you to fall in line. Terror made you comply. Intelligence made you pretend to comply. You played the role he wanted—the happy fiancée, the soon to be mother. You played the hell out of the role. The night before the procedure, Theo made a mistake. He brought you gifts, roses, chocolates, wine, all your favorites. You knew his endgame. He wanted sex. This was his MO. He always thought this was the way. There was no way in hell you would do that, so you did the only smart thing—drugged him.

 You watched as he drank his rum. Watched as he had one, two, and three all back to back. Unbeknownst to him, you’d roofied them all. Only you didn’t plan on using this to have your way with him. When the time came, he resisted the effects of the drug. You could see the drowsiness in his eyes and guessed his body was feeling heavy thanks to the lethargic way he moved, but still, he persisted in pursuing you. When he backed you onto the bed and proceeded to kiss along your neck, collar, and chest, you cringed in a way that usually would have shown him you were not feeling it. In his current state, you doubted he cared.

 For what felt like an eternity boiled down to a few terrifying minutes where Theo continued trying to strip you and lay his affections on you. When you felt the full weight of his body drop to yours, you paused and waited to see if he would pick back up. Five seconds passed, no movement, then ten, and twenty. When you couldn’t take it anymore, you shoved his body off of yours and sprang from the bed to bang back into the wardrobe. You looked down at him, fearing the loud clatter would have stirred him. It hadn’t.

 Thinking you were home free, you rushed out of the door and frantically tried to get down the stairs. As you took the first few steps, you felt a hand grab your hair and pull you back. There was Theo—an angry but sluggish Theo.

 “Where’re you going, dewdrop?”

 At this moment, your voice not to work. Instead, you tried to yank yourself from him. The pain at your scalp was intense. He refused to let go.

 “Where—are you—going?”

 He wobbled and lost his balance for a moment. That reprieve had his hand loosen in your hair. You turned and dashed down the stairs. Every one you took, you heard his sloppy thuds behind you. When you were halfway down, he felt him shove you down the remaining. You slid, tumbled, banged, and screamed all the way to the bottom of the stairs. The pain in your body said stay down, but you could guess what was in store for you.

 Gathering what was left of your strength. You picked yourself up, limped to the hooks beside the door, grabbed your bag, and your keys, and bolted out the door.

 “Y/N!”

 He sounded furious. As he screamed, you felt the fire of his words as if it were the flames of hell at your back. Once outside, you ignored the pain in your ankle, your leg, back, ribs, and head and pushed forward. As soon as you got to your car, you opened it and jumped inside to press the lock button in the knick of time. Theo banged and pounded on the glass.

 “Open the door, baby.” He sounded drunk.

 “Come on, let’s go inside and talk about this.”

 You didn’t. When he realized you wouldn’t, he banged the glass harder, shattering it. As he reached inside, you pressed your foot on the gas. The sudden movement of the car jolted him enough to send his body more onto the vehicle. That change of his body had the side of your car bumping into him as you sped down the street like a thief in the darkness of night.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 -Present Day-

 Taking a deep breath as if you hadn’t had one in centuries, you gasped and panted, pulling yourself from the memories. From behind the trees, you could see the faintest streaks of pink, yellow, and purple. The sun would be rising soon. You stared at the sky for a few moments and allowed the peacefulness in it to work on the tension inside of you. As you stared at the sky, you remembered what just happened, and you cringed. Looking to your left, you laid your eyes on a very still Chris who was staring right back at you.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You flinched and immediately pressed your hands to your face hoping to hide your tear-streaked, puffy-eyed state. “What the fuck, Chris!”

 You wiped your cheeks and sniffled, but you didn’t look at him right away.

 “I’m sorry. I thought you knew I was here. I didn’t want to leave you alone. It didn’t feel right. I was worried. I’m sorry,” Chris rushed out.

 You weren’t angry. You were embarrassed. No one knew about this or had ever seen you like this. No-one except your family and Scott, but he only knew the gist of things. He’d seen you at the height of your worst. You had no idea how you could face him.

 “Y/N,” Chris softly began. A few seconds after he spoke, you felt his hand touch your knee. You flinched.

 “Don’t touch me!” The second you said the words, you automatically felt like an asshole.

 “All right, I’ll stay over here. I’m sorry.”

 You groaned. Did he have to be so sweet right now? A few minutes passed in silence with your head turned to the right. You felt shame, fear, sadness, regret, and a deep yearning for the woman you used to be. You fought back the tears that wanted freedom and tried to get past this vulnerability you hadn’t felt in years. Taking another deep breath, you bit down onto your bottom lip. You didn’t want to breakdown any further. He was probably thinking you were a nutcase and wondering why he even wanted to get you into bed, you thought.

 Almost an hour passed before you slowly turned to look at him. He was staring out into the trees, sitting there as patiently as ever. He didn’t look to be in a hurry, but he looked like his thoughts were far away. You could guess what he was thinking.

 “Aren’t you going to ask?”

 With his head still facing forward, he answered. “Nope.”

 The answer stumped you for a few seconds.

 “Why?”

 “Because, if it’s something you want me to know Y/N, you’ll tell me. If it’s not, you won’t. I’m not here to make you do anything you don’t want to do. I’m not here to force you to do things, test you, lie to you, or hurt you. I don’t want to do any of those things. I’ve told you that,” Chris said with his eyes still forward. As he said the last sentence, he looked at you.

 You were able to hold his gaze for a few seconds before you scrunched your face and pressed your forehead to your knees that were bent underneath you. After another few minutes, you took another deep breath. For the last few weeks, he’d been trying to prove that. Since you became intimate, you’d gotten the vibe that he really wasn’t the asshole you’d pegged him as. He was a good guy on the surface and possibly an even better one underneath all the bullshit he projected as his true self. Ms. Lisa was right, you thought. Realizing it had your heart skipping a beat.

 “You have to come out and see the changed world if you want to move forward. You’ve been at a standstill pretending nothing had happed, and you hadn’t gone through trauma. You know the first step, babygirl.”

 Then, your father’s words were harsh though you knew he spoke them with love. When he’d spoken them, you weren’t ready to hear them, let alone face what they truly meant. Were you now?

 “The only way to know if you’re ready is to take the leap. See how it feels.”

 Your dropped your head back and stared at the sky while taking a few calming breaths.

 “My last relationship was—less than ideal,” you began while keeping your eyes glued above. You searched for the right words to follow up with, and minutes passed before you found them. It almost seemed like too much to tell him everything. It felt like if you did, then you’d be bare before him. Your walls would be gone, and he would have unadulterated access to your very core. He could then do what he chose. You’d made that mistake before.

 “His name was Theo. I moved to Connecticut for him.” You scoffed at that little fact. You couldn’t believe you’d done it and had since regretted it tenfold.

 “We um—we moved quickly looking back. At the time, it seemed normal. We got a house together, lived together, did everything together. Um—he um--.”

 You struggled to find the right words. You didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t spin you like a stupid victim. Groaning, you decided to give up.

 “Long story short, he turned out to be a liar.” You sighed out and rubbed your forehead.

 “I’m sorry.”

 You scoffed and looked away.

 “I mean it. I know a lot of people throw those words around all the time, but I mean them. You didn’t deserve that at all.”

 Deserve, you thought as you looked back to him.

 “You deserved so much better,” Chris filled in.

 You almost laughed hearing him say what you deserved. You then remembered his words in his room. It was then you made the decision to talk about it.

 “We were planning on having a family. Our wedding was coming up, and we began the process of in vitro,” you began.

 You could feel his shock, and you knew you had his undivided attention.

 “He’d been acting weird for a while, and I noticed, but I didn’t bring it up. I just pushed it to the side and ignored it. I didn’t think he would ever do anything behind my back because of everything we had going on. So, I was the perfect girlfriend, cooked, cleaned—everything. One night he came home really late after weeks and weeks of me suspecting something was going on. I was pissed, and I confronted him. we screamed and argued, and he--.” You looked back to the sky, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. “He hit me,” you finished.

 “Son of a bitch,” Chris grumbled.

 “I was dazed. I couldn’t even get up. He—he climbed on top of me and kept hitting me. I blacked out and woke up, but I didn’t remember what happened. He told me we were robbed, and I was attacked by robbers. He even went as far as to bring me to the police station to file a report.”

 You paused, trying to get over the fresh wave of emotion that washed over you.

 “For weeks, I couldn’t remember, and he went on like life was normal, and he was innocent. Day after day, night after night. When I remembered I freaked out and ran to the kitchen for a knife, he was behind me and grabbed my throat, swore he’d kill me, then kill himself, he—he made me promise I wouldn’t leave him, made me believe he would kill me.”

 The heat beside you intensified. You would have chanced a glance at him, but you were too chicken shit to do it.

 “For the next few weeks, he was controlling and terrifying. I barely slept. If he slept with me, he locked the door from the inside and kept a key on him. He kept tabs on me at all times. I felt like—a prisoner. One night I managed to drug his drinks, and he passed out. I made a run for it, but he woke up, chased me, and pushed me down the stairs when he couldn’t stop me. I barely got away that night, and I haven’t looked back since.”

 The silence was heavy. It felt like the pressure in the air was just compressing right on top of your head.

Chris didn’t speak right away. He didn’t speak for countless long minutes. When you chanced a look at him, his jaw was tightly clenched, and his eyes looked dark, almost black. That was alarming for you considering how blue they usually were.

 “I’m--,” Chris began before you cut him off.

 “—Please don’t say you’re sorry. It’ll drive me bat shit, and I don’t know if I can handle going even crazier than I am right now, and I doubt you’d be able to look at me the same ever again. Although, I already suspect we’re there,” you ranted.

Silence returned.

 “I was going to say I’m furious at what you’ve had to go through.”

 Your head snapped to him.

 “I never knew—never even fathomed, and now that I do—a lot makes sense,” Chris began. He audibly sighed, and as he did, his shoulders sank.

 “I don’t need your pity, Chris.”  You made a move to get up and walk away, but he was there to stop you before you got to the doors leading inside.

 “I don’t see anything to pity. Jesus, Y/N. I’ve always thought you were the strongest woman. When I see you, I am always in awe of you. You’re so damn smart, so funny, and unapologetically real. I’m amazed. I don’t pity you, not one bit.”

 As he spoke, his hands said a lot more. He lifted them and waved them around for emphasis but what you really paid attention to was how many times he reached out for you. Every time he did reach out, he stopped himself by balling his fists to then lowers his hands then do it all again. You took notice of how much you actually wanted him to touch you. You were a mess.

 Groaning, you turned your back to him, looked back to the trees, and wove your fingers on top of your head. On one side, you wanted to leave, go back to the guesthouse, and bury yourself under the blankets for a day or two, all the while ignoring everything that happened. There was even a side of that side that wanted to pack up and go back to Boston and forget the lines you’d crossed during this quarantine. The other side wanted you to just give in to someone comforting you, someone being there for you who seemed to not want anything from you besides intimacy and a chance.

 “I understand,” Chris began. You spun around to face him again.

 “You understand what?”

 “You being afraid to let me in.”

 “I’m not afraid,” you quickly countered.

 “Yeah, you are. You’re terrified, it shows. I’m terrified, and though I’ve been good at hiding it the last three years, I know it shows now. I understand, Y/N.”

 You sighed and sat on the bench and dropped your forehead into your hands. The silence between you stretched again. You didn’t pay attention to it, though. You were miles away in your own head.

 “Y/N,” Chris softly began.

 When you looked up, he sank to the wooden deck in front of you. His bare legs showed the strength in his limbs. While he was slim, he wasn’t puny. He was surprisingly strong.

 “I don’t want to play any games here, or pretend like I feel less than I do or want less than I do.”

 “What do you want?”

 Chris swallowed so hard you saw his Adam’s Apple bob. He didn’t speak all at once; he just stared into your eyes.

 “I want you.”

 They were pretty words; you thought as you looked away.

 “You’ve had me.”

 Chris closed the space between you. He grasped your hand with one of his and used his other hand to cup your jaw, so you were looking into his eyes.

 “This isn’t about sex. I want you.” The way he emphasized the word, dropping his tone lower, making his voice deeper had your belly doing somersaults. You lowered your eyes, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

 “You only think that because of this quarantine and sex bubble,” you whispered, your voice overcome with unexpected emotion.

 “That’s bullshit, and you know it. This has nothing to do with quarantine or this supposed sex bubble, whatever the hell that is.”

 It was your turn to give him a “yeah right” look.  Chris rolled his eyes and clenched his jaw.

 “I will admit that if it hadn’t been for quarantine, I probably wouldn’t have gotten the courage to tell you any of this or be this way with you. I would have still kept my distance because of--,” he took a breath, stroked your fingers, then continued.

 “I wanted you three years ago, two years ago, Christmas, New Year, last week, last night, tonight. I want you, Y/N.”

 You studied him for a few moments longer. The heat and intensity you found there had you entwining your fingers with his.

 “I guess the question is—do you want me?”

 You opened your mouth to speak, but Chris spoke again.

 “Really want me Y/N, not sex, not attention, not a distraction, or a pass time. Me.”

 The vulnerability you saw in him made you want to pull him closer, all the while pushing him further away. You didn’t know what you were searching for in his eyes, but you searched them all the same.  It was the moment of truth. It was time for your first real romantic decision since leaving Connecticut and Theo. With everyone else, you didn’t have to do this; you didn’t think to or want to. You wanted to now. Not only did your body want him, but you wanted him, and it wasn’t your body doing the talking right now.

 You scooted off the bench and into the welcoming space on his lap. By doing this, it made him drop to the deck as you straddled him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

 “How did you get past the ice and shards?”

 Chris’s smile started small but then spread into a full one. “I’ve always seen through the ice.”

 You couldn’t help but snort out. He was so goddamn cocky, and you loved it. You both slowly moved to each other, never breaking eye contact. When you were but centimeters apart, Chris stopped. You knew he was giving you control to decide what you do, and where you go from there. When your lips pressed to his, neither of you moved at first. After a few seconds, it was you that teased his lips to kiss him sensually. When you felt his tongue swirl around yours, you moaned. From there, it was a chain reaction, one that was inevitable when the two of you got close like this.

 Before either of you could get too carried away, you pulled away and rested your forehead on his. Both of you panted, trying to catch your breath.

 “Slow and steady,” Chris whispered.

 Your eyes met his. You nodded your agreement.

 “Slow and steady.”

 He smiled and kissed your lips once, twice, and a third time before he stood with you in his arms. It always amazed you that he was this strong. You were by no means stick and bones. You had shape, curves, and an ass. Nevertheless, he always handled you as if you weighed as much as a down pillow. Chris walked inside the cabin, passing the box you’d brought with you.

 “Wait.”

 You grabbed it and held it out to him. “What is this?”

 Chris grinned. “You haven't opened it yet?”

��“I wasn’t sure if I should,” you admitted. You’d debated it for days, and it was driving you insane.

 “It’s yours. You absolutely should have opened it.”

 “What is it?”

 Chris walked into the bedroom and laid you on top of the mattress before he dropped onto the bed beside you. You sat up, slid to the headboard, and fiddled with the box.

 “It’s not going to open itself.”

 You took a deep breath and untied the pretty yellow bow-tied ribbon that was artistically tied around the box. You glanced at him again before you flipped the top off of the box. When you did, there was a simple notecard in your favorite color—yellow.

 “You are beauty; you are grace.” As you read the words, your fingertips traced over the embossed letters. You bit your bottom lip and chanced looking at him. Chris attentively sat there patiently waiting for you to lift the notecard.

 When you did, laying on top of its cotton bed was a necklace that housed some impressive diamonds all across the chain. When your eyes got to the charm, your jaw dropped. A pair of golden wings rested on the cotton. The intricate design of the wings had you lifting the box closer to your eyes to get a better look. You were not disappointed. It was breathtaking and clearly expensive. While the chain housed smaller diamonds, the wings had much larger ones.

 “Wow.”

 You traced your fingertips across it then flipped it over. There you saw engravement. “She flies by her own wings.”

 You looked back at him but didn’t speak.

 “Do you remember that time Scott and everybody took you out to celebrate that major project you landed? You thought it was just going to be a one-time thing, but it led you to being the reoccurring talent for that Broadway production company. I remember opening night we all went and bam your poster, header, and designs were everywhere in Time’s Square. Do you remember that?”

 His smile was so wide you couldn’t help but smile and nod.

 “We were all so excited and so damn proud. I was so proud of you. I remember just thinking nothing, and no one would stand in your way from getting where you wanted to. I thought you were—incredible.” He shook his head as if snapping himself out of the memory.

 “I had this in my pocket the entire night. We were at the show, then dinner and walking around the city. I held on to it, trying to find the right time to give it to you, but—the right time never presented itself. So—I’ve held onto it this whole time.”

 “Really?”

 He nodded. “Wow, that sounds pretty pathetic now,” he said, chuckling to himself.

 “No, stop. It doesn’t sound pathetic. It sounds sweet. You’re sweet. This is so beautiful.”

 “Do you like it?”

 Nodding your head, you stared at the present some more.

 “I really, really like it. Thank you.”

 “There’s more.”

 “Oh, is there?”

 Chris nodded and nudged his head to the box. Sensing his meaning, you lifted the bed of cotton to see a beautiful diamond and gold charm bracelet.

 “So promise rings are a thing, but I also know a ring of any sort might have you run for the hills even if it was just a promise ring,” Chris began. You laughed and shook your head.

 “You’re not funny, Christopher!”

 “I am, and you know it. Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted—I thought a bracelet would be an acceptable replacement.”

 “So, it’s a promise bracelet?”

 He nodded and slid closer to you. “It’s simple. You have a cabin charm for here, the beach charm for the beach, but after our last night on the beach, it’s for that.”

 You softly smiled and bit your bottom lip. “And you have the fingers crossed charm for these promises. I will not hurt you; I will not disrespect you. I promise I can be the man you deserve.”

 “Chris, this wasn’t necessary.”

 “It was. Words are cheap, actions speak. I want this to speak. I want you to look at it and know. I’m in.”

 His words echoed in your head as you let them marinate. He was in. you stretched your wrist out to him and held out the bracelet. Chris smiled, took the jewelry, and fastened it around your wrist.

 “It looks good on you.”

 “Eh—diamonds are a girl’s best friend.”

 You smiled and leaned to him to press your lips to him. “Thank you; I love them.”

 “Let me put the necklace on.”

 You turned to him and let him clasp it. When he finished, you turned to him and felt the baby’s fist-sized pendant. “How does it look?”

 Chris looked far away while he stared at the necklace.

 “Chris.”

 “Like it’s home.”

 The man was going to be the death of you. Death by butterflies in the stomach. It was a thing; you were sure of it. You were turning into a puddle of lukewarm water, and it was an unfamiliar feeling.

 “Let’s watch the sunset,” you suggested.

 Chris slinked up the bed to you, then laid down under the covers at the same time your head found its place on his chest. Chris wrapped his arm around your shoulder, and the two of you, in perfect silence and relaxed comfort, watched one of the most beautiful sunrises that you could remember.  

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

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[shinsouskitten]

Bad dates and kisses

(I’m not good with titles, sorry)

Hitoshi Shinsou x f!reader

Summary: After a failed blind date, Y/n finds comfort (and maybe something else) with her roommate, Shinsou.

Warnings: angst, smut (all characters are 18+), fluff at the end, my writing

---

You sighed as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. 

Another waste of a date, you thought. 

You knew you never should’ve trusted your best friend when she told you she’d set you up for a blind date, but you went along with it anyway. The guy ended up a whole hour late, had the gall to complain about your appearance, and flirted non-stop with every girl near you, even your poor waitress, who accepted your sympathetic glances as your supposed date hit on her despite her obvious uninterest. 

You’d ended up storming out not long after your starter arrived, passing the waitress who gave you a small apology as you ran out of the door. Just your luck, it had started to rain, and you hadn’t brought an umbrella, so you were forced to trudge to your shared apartment with Shinsou in the freezing cold, hugging your jacket as close as you could.

When you arrived home, Shinsou didn’t appear, and you suspected he was already asleep in his room. Part of you was welcome that you didn’t have to face him in your current state, but there was also a small part of you that wanted nothing more than to crawl up in his arms and cry until your eyes were red and raw.

Instead, you rushed to your room, peeling your clothes off and draping them over your radiator as you pulled a large t-shirt from your closet, slipping it over you as you shivered. You let out an irritated groan flopping down in the chair in front of your desk. 

As you stared into your mirror, your despair only grew. Trails of mascara stained your cheeks, though you weren’t sure if it was from tears or the rain. Your hair stuck to your forehead, and droplets of rain ran down your back. You sighed, standing up to fetch a towel from outside your room, halting when you heard a knock at your door.

“Y/n?” Shinsou’s voice filtered into your ears, and you resisted the urge to throw your door open and leap into his arms. 

You bit back a sob as you cleared your throat, not willing to show your current fragile state.

“I’m fine.” You called, cursing yourself as your voice shook. “Did I wake you?”

You hoped you hadn’t. You knew Shinsou’s sleep schedule wasn’t exactly the best, and the thought that you might have robbed him of precious hours made your blood run cold.

“Nah.” He replied. “I was already awake. Heard you slam the door when you came in, so I figured your date was either amazing or terrible. And given your room is quiet...” He trailed off.

You let out a hollow chuckle. “Yeah. Not the best date.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked.

You closed your eyes with a sigh. “I don’t wanna bother you. Just go back to sleep.”

“I can’t go back to sleep if I wasn’t asleep in the first place.” He chuckled. “Besides, I was gonna make a drink. I could use the company.”

With another sigh, your eyes fluttered open, falling to the make-up remover situated at the end of your desk.

“I’ll be out in a few.” You called.

You heard a hum, then the sound of footsteps fading away, and you presumed Shinsou had relocated to the kitchen. After you had successfully removed the ruined make-up from your face, you checked your reflection, relieved to see that your previous tears weren’t too obvious.

As you made your way to the kitchen, you saw Shinsou slouched against the counter, staring blankly at two steaming mugs in front of him. He jumped as you tapped his shoulder, and you gave your best smile as you gestured towards the drinks.

“Those for us?” You asked.

Shinsou rolled his eyes. “No they’re for the ghost I room with.”

“Probably a better roommate than me.” You muttered.

A warm hand on your chin lifted your head up, and your eyes locked with Shinsou’s as you suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“You wanna talk?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft, “you’re never a bother to me.”

Your eyes widened at his words, and you tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in your stomach as you stared at him. He smiled widely, removing his hand from your chin as he grabbed the mugs, nodding his head towards the sofa.

“C’mon.”

You felt yourself move without a thought, your body simply obeying his words as you sat down on the soft cushions, taking the mug from his outstretched hand. You let out a grateful smile at the warmth, but as you turned to thank Shinsou, your mind went blank.

It was then that you became aware of what Shinsou was wearing, or rather, what he wasn’t wearing. His chest was completely bare, pale and lean muscles a stark contrast to the dark purple of his hair. A pair of grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, and your eyes were quickly drawn to the large outline of-

Nope. No no no. You told yourself. Not the time. Get your mind out of the gutter.

As hard as you tried to pull them away, your eyes kept falling back to Shinsou, and the imprint beneath the thin fabric of his trousers. He was sitting mere feet away, and here you were, wondering how it would feel to wrap your hands around-

“You good?”

Shinsou’s voice snapped you from your thoughts, and you clenched your thighs together as heat rushed to your core. 

“Fine.” You squeaked.

He hummed in response, lifting his mug to his lips to take a sip. Even though that kind of action was far from an uncommon sight, you were unable to pull your eyes from the curve of his lips, and the way his eyes fell shut in satisfaction as he drank. You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about being the cause of that satisfaction, and you felt heat rushed to your cheeks as he turned to look at you, his head cocked to the side in confusion.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked. “You’ve been acting weird.”

“Just fine.” You replied, leaning forward to place your drink on the coffee table as you pushed your hands into your lap, not trusting yourself to leap at Shinsou and make your thoughts a reality as they drove around your mind on repeat.

Shinsou sighed, placing his drink next to yours as he edged closer to you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he pressed his head into your neck. 

You froze at the contact, unsure how to react, but as his thumb trailed soothing circles across your skin you relaxed into his hold.

“They don’t deserve you.” He murmured.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh?”

“Those dates.” He replied. “I don’t know why you let yourself go on them. They never end well.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah well people aren’t exactly lining up to date me, so I take what I can get.”

Shinsou sighed against you, and you pushed away your lewd thoughts as his breath tickled your neck.

“They never make you feel good.” He muttered. 

“No one can, apparently.” You sighed.

“I can.”

You froze, unsure if you’d heard him right. 

He pulled back from your hug, placing a warm hand on your cheek as he turned your head to face him.

“Do you want that?” He asked softly.

“Want what?” You replied, still unsure as to what he was implying.

He leant forward, tilting your head to the side as he placed a soft kiss on your neck. 

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” He whispered against your skin.

Your eyes widened as he kissed you again, a shiver traveling down your spine as warmth pooled in your stomach. As he pulled away from your neck, he looked at you, purple eyes boring into yours. 

“I’m gonna need an answer, kitten.” He hummed.

You nodded feverishly, not trusting your words.

“Well then,” he smiled, “where was I?”

Both of you surged forward, lips connecting as your whole body tingled. Sure, you had kissed people before, and you’d even kissed Shinsou once while you were drunk, but nothing had ever felt like this. Nothing had ever felt so perfect.

Your hands moved to his chest as you pushed him back, lifting your leg over his hips to straddle him as you continued with your onslaught of kisses. When you eventually pulled back, you took in the sight before you with glee: Shinsou’s cheeks flushed and his lips red, his pupils blown as he stared at you.

“God kitten,” he groaned, “you’re so perfect.”

You felt your face flush at his words, and you fell forward to bury your face in his chest. You felt him shake as he chuckled.

“Now what part of that did you like?” He asked. 

You didn’t have to see him to know he was smirking.

“All of it.” You muttered. “Now please, do something.” 

He hissed as you ground your hips against his, the feeling of his hardness evident through the thin layers separating you.

“So needy.” He chuckled, pulling your face up to place a soft kiss on your lips. “But as much as I’d love to rail you on this sofa, I’m sure my room would be much more comfortable.”

Before you could reply, he stood up, and you clung to his chest in fear of falling. Miraculously, you stayed flush against him, the warmth of his arms wrapped around your waist as he held you tight.

Minutes later you felt your back hit the soft blankets of Shinsou’s bed, and you smiled as he crawled on top of you. You tried to lift your hips up to meet his, desperate for some kind of friction, but his warm hands kept you low against the bed, and you let out a whine.

“Aww, don’t worry kitten,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your neck, “I said I’d make you feel good. And I keep my promises.”

As his hands grasped the hem on your shirt, his eyes flew up to yours to look for any kind of resignation. When you nodded, he pulled the fabric over your body, smiling when he saw you bare beneath him.

You flushed as you realized you’d forgotten to put on some underwear after coming back from your date, so with the removal of your shirt, you were completely naked.

“You’re perfect.” He murmured, trailing kisses from your neck and down your body to where you needed him most.

“Shinsou I-”

You gasped as you felt his warm tongue swipe through your folds.

“You taste amazing.” He said, repeating his previous actions as you squirmed against his touch. “I want more.”

Gasps and moans continued to leave your lips as Shinsou teased you, and you whined each time he pulled away. 

“Is my little kitten needy?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes at him. “You said you’d make me feel good, so why don’t you stop talking and put your moth to a better use.”

Shinsou smirked again at your tone. “You know, I’m really tempted to gag you, but I really wanna hear those beautiful moans of yours.”

Before you could retort, he delved back between your legs, and your hands flew to grip his hair. He let out a groan as you pulled on the purple strands, and the sound sent vibrations straight to your core.

You felt your orgasm quickly approaching, and apparently so did Shinsou. Just before you hit the edge, he pulled away, smirking when you let out a loud whine.

“Sorry kitten,” he said, “I couldn’t help it. Can’t have you getting too tired before the main course, can we?”

His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and you cringed as you saw your juices strung across his chin. 

“Then again,” he continued, “I did say I’d make you feel good. And given I’m the one doing all the work, I think it’s only fair if you give me a show.”

As you opened your mouth to ask what he meant, you hissed at the feeling of a long slender finger sliding inside you. You felt yourself clench around him, desperate for any kind of stimulation, and he replied by thrusting slowly into you, listening to your moans as he reattached himself to your clit. Another finger joined the first, and you gasped as they hit the perfect spot inside you.

“Right there.” You moaned.

Shinsou obliged, curving his fingers to hit the spot each time he plunged them deep into your core, smirking as you bucked yourself back onto his fingers. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, and you felt your orgasm finally hit you, your back arching off the bed as Shinsou kept his fingers diving inside you.

As he pulled away, you whined again, but he stayed quiet, watching your core as it clenched around nothing.

“Beautiful.” He smiled, climbing up to pull you into a kiss.

Too lost in the pleasure, you were unable to even think about the taste of your  juices on his tongue. As your lips danced against each other, your hand moved to grasp Shinsou through his trousers, and he groaned against you.

“Still not satisfied?” He murmured with a smirk.

“You.” You simply replied, moving your hand across the bulge of the fabric as he hissed. “I want you.”

Shinsou pulled away, his dark eyes staring into yours. “You sure?” He asked.

With a nod from you, he smiled softly, pushing himself up to remove his sweatpants, eliciting a moan from you as you stared at him in his full glory. He leant over to the nightstand next to the bed. He reached into the top drawer, pulling out a condom, ripping open the silver to pull it out. 

“I want to do it.” You said, and he handed it to you.

“Be my guest.”

You sat up, your legs still slightly weak from your previous orgasm, and grasped his cock in your hand, swiping a finger over the tip to gather some precum, bringing it to your lips as you stared into his eyes. 

“Fuck kitten,” he groaned, “you’re killing me.”

You smirked, rolling the condom onto his length before laying back on the bed.

He crawled back over you, swiping himself over your folds to gather some of your juices before pressing the tip against you. 

“Please.” You whispered, eyes staring deep into his as he slowly edged himself into you.

The two of you moaned in unison as he bottomed out, and he placed a hand on the side of your face, leaning down to pull you into a kiss. As you rolled your hips against him, he began to thrust, his pace slow as he drew himself almost completely out before plunging back inside, drawing a whimper from you each time. 

As you moan and plead for more, he stops for just long enough to grasp your hips, thrusting even deeper and hitting your perfect sweet spot with each movement of his cock. His hand moves to rub your clit, and your eyes clamp shut as you feel your orgasm approaching. 

You can still see Shinsou pounding into you, even with your eyes closed, as if the image of him is burned into your mind. You’re not complaining though, because soon enough your orgasm slams into you, and you swear for a moment you see stars.

Shinsou groans, the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock have him thrusting into you even harder, something you wouldn’t have thought possible. 

The pressure on your clit becomes too much, and your eyes begin to water at the overstimulation. The mix of pleasure and pain rip another orgasm from your body, and you open your eyes to see Shinsou’s head lolling back as his thrusts become sloppier. You reach forward to pull his chest against yours, placing a kiss to his neck.

“I love you.” You murmur into his skin.

He lets out a loud groan as he finally cums, hot ropes painting you inside as your body spasms under his grip. He pauses to catch his breath, holding himself up with shaking arms as his eyes bore into yours.

You whine as he pulls out of you, and he presses a kiss to your lips before pushing himself off the bed to walk to the bathroom. 

He returns with a towel, and cleans the both of you while pressing sweet kisses on every inch of your skin. Once he’s satisfied you’re clean, he reaches across to his nightstand, grabbing a glass of water you hadn’t noticed before.

“Drink.” He instructs, his voice calm and soothing.

You obey him, welcoming the cold water as it trickles down your throat, and you hum in appreciation. When you stop, he places it back on the nightstand, before pulling you up to sit in front of him.

“You should pee.” He says, chuckling at the expression you give him. “Always pee after sex.”

You roll your eyes as you slide to the edge of the bed, your feet almost numb against the soft carpet of the floor. Once you’re sure you can stand (albeit not well) you hobble towards the hold room, shivering in your nakedness as you sit down.

As you wash your hands, your eyes drift to the mirror in front of you, and you wince at the dark purple marks covering your chest and neck. You’d have to use a lot of make-up to hide them, but that wasn’t important now. 

For now you make your way back to Shinsou, who’s sitting at the foot of his bed with a strangely neutral expression on his face.

“You’re staying here tonight.” He says.

You offer no complaints as you crawl onto the bed, relishing in the warmth of the blankets against your skin. As your eyes begin to drift shut, a hand wraps around your waist, and you feel a smile spread subconsciously across your face before you fall asleep, not hearing the soft words that fall from Shinsou’s lips.

“I love you too, y/n.”

[barkkletshunt]

Those Worth Fighting For Part seven

Part one          Part two

Part three        Part four

Part five           Part six

Part Seven (You’re here)       Part eight 

Taglist:

@ladybug-182 @fruit-snacc-ace @miraculous-simmer7 @lavenderjunes 

@use-flamethrower @fan-written @all-mights-asscheeks @birdie-posts

Sorry if the tags aren’t working, I tried and I’m not sure where I went wrong with it? 

If I have time the next part will come out with some art! Don’t expect the art to be any good though lol

“So then, I go to the window and there is Adrien on Kagami’s front lawn with a big sign that says prom on it, and by the way neither of us knew he was going to be in France at all. It was a total surprise. So I’m so shocked my mind completely blanks out and I shout down to him that yes, I’ll go to prom with him. He yells back ‘tall Kagami’ and I turn around and just ‘your boyfriend just asked to go to prom with me.’ Without skipping a beat she leans out of the window and tells him he’s too late, she already asked me.” Marinette laughed, wiping a stray tear from her eye that began to form from how hard she was trying to not burst into a fit of giggles until the story ended. “In the end the three of us went to prom together.”

The four around the table shook their heads. “Mari, dude, if you can’t get through that story without laughing how are you supposed to do your toast?”

“I’ll just practice it a lot until it’s no longer funny to me, simple. I’m not even going to worry about it anymore.” The blue haired girl shrugged. When she was younger she would have worried about that, but she was long since past that. At least, she hoped she was. She had done enough interviews with Alya in her teen years, and then enough speeches as Ladybug to fill her with a confidence she lacked as a teen. She was nervous, but instead of the all consuming nervousness that would make her fumble and trip over her words it was now an excited nervousness. She was excited about it. 

“I think you’ll do fine,” Felix winked at her, his face never changing from the impartial look he had on since he came into the restaurant.

They all had made their way back to the same place after the amok, even if Felix was late once again. The blond had made his excuses of needing to take care of some errands that he had forgotten, but it hadn’t mattered much to any of them. Marinette had saved a seat next to her for him and he was more than happy to take it.

“Why not talk about the moment you realized those two were perfect for each other?” Nathaniel asked, playing with the straw in his drink. “I know you have a million stories about that.”

“Something like Adrien saving Kagami from a bully, or a dance of just the two of them where they lock eyes and suddenly the whole room disappears?” Marc hummed, their author brain going into overdrive at the thought of romance. “Maybe you saw him protect her against an akuma or amok?”

Marinette thought for a moment. What was it that made her realize that they belonged together? After all those years fawning over Adrien, it was Kagami’s love for him that made her step down, but what was the exact moment? 

“It was at Chloe’s fifteenth birthday party.” Marinette started, recalling the time before Hawkmoth had lost and her world began to fall apart and fix itself simultaneously. “Adrien’s dad thought it would be a good idea for Kagami to go with him and keep an eye on his son, and they started the evening miserable because the paparazzi outside the hotel told them that they always looked so perfect that it made sense that they would be perfect together. I only got to spend a few minutes with them before being pulled away by Chloe, but when I went to find them and bring them some hot chocolate they were on the roof ruffling each other's hair and talking about anime, and goofing around like I hadn’t seen either of them do before.” 

“They saw that the other understood their background and chose to help break out of that image with each other and just be kids.” Felix’s words surprised her, but he understood exactly what had happened. 

“They were so embarrassed when they saw me that I challenged them both to hot chocolate drinking contests to ease the awkwardness. They didn’t even realize I didn’t have one for myself before chugging theirs and burning their mouths at the same time.” Her two messy friends meant the world to her, and she knew no one would understand them like they understood each other. Both of them had strict parents that would only let them escape and be kids when they were with the other, and they took those opportunities and made every moment count. They were what each other needed, and then when they got their freedoms they were still the ones they chose. “I think that’s also when they stopped acting perfect in front of me. Adrien really started to bug me to watch anime so he could talk about it with someone other than his girlfriend, and Kagami soon demanded to be my dress up doll because she never got to do that growing up. They became my best friends and honestly, I think I’m better for it too.”

“How romantic.” Marc swooned, leaning against Nathaniel who caught his significant other with a laugh. “Childhood friends, to rivals, to lovers. 50K slowburn.”

“Once there was an akuma trying to hurt Adrien and Kagami picked up the nearest weapon she could find and just went at ‘em and I have never seen Adrien’s face light up like that. The boy just wants to be loved and protected.” Nino joined in. “Alya and I were shocked, we both had our money on Adrien ending up with someone else, but we’re both happy about it. Speaking of which, I gotta update her on what’s going on here. She’ll flip.”

Felix shifted in his seat, catching Marinette’s eye as Nathaniel and Marc continued talking about Kagami and Adrien’s relationship. He wasn’t there for all those moments, he wasn’t a long term friend of everyone so he didn’t know Alya or Chloe and she wouldn’t doubt it if he had felt out of place in the conversation. 

“Pst,” she scooted herself over, getting closer to him and leaning over to whisper at him. “You look nice today.”

Felix blinked in surprise. Within seconds his face was growing warm and he used his hand to cover the lower half of his face as inconspicuously as possible. “Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to say that, Miss. Dupain-Cheng?”

“I’m afraid I beat you to it, Mr. Graham De Vanily.” She whispered back. “But it’s okay, you might get me next time.”

How long had it been since she was able to flirt with someone without losing herself in the what-if’s and teenaged anxiety that had plagued her? How had one battle fighting side by side with Ryuko, Alley Cat, and the others given her so much confidence that she hadn’t had even during the fight itself? Was it that damned cat’s words? He had unknowingly complimented her to her face and she was still beaming with pride over being called brilliant. Being complimented on her looks was nice, but the way he had complimented her on her mind was something else. She supposed that was what did it, after all. Being told that she was great because of who she was and not because of how she looked filled her with a pride she didn’t even want to describe lest it dampened the feeling inside her chest. 

“Well then, until next time, you look wonderful. You’re outfit choice is on point, as always.” His comment hit straight to her heart. There it was again. A comment on something she chose being good. “And although you are trying to start a fire with my face, I am enjoying this time with you away from colour pallets and order forms. I like seeing this other side of you, Marinette.”

“I’d like to say the same thing, but it has come to my attention that you seem to only wear suits, Felix. This is the same side of you I always see.” She couldn’t help her grin. There was a strange formal banter between them that she found exhilarating. In it’s own way it made her feel like part of the aristocratic world that he and Adrian and Kagami belonged to, without having to deal with the fakeness that the latter two often complained about. “Dare I say, I don’t believe you own anything that isn’t a suit.”

“I’d hate to inform you of this, but you’re incorrect on that front.” Felix moved the hand that was covering his face to let himself rest his chin upon it. “I do, and I’d prefer it if you don’t go to the press with this, own a few sets of pajamas.”

“And are they silk and made to look like a suit?” She asked, now leaning against him to softly poke at his arm. “I bet you had them custom made so that you would never appear unprofessional.” 

“Well, well, aren’t you curious to see my pajamas? Shame you won’t get to see them until our fourth date.” Felix leaned his head against hers, and her heart began to race. 

“So, are you two actually a thing?” Nino’s voice broke them out of their moment. Marinette and Felix realized how it must have looked to the others and immediately sat straight in their seats. 

Nathaniel elbowed Nino in the ribs. “Dude!”

“What? I’m just trying to clear things up for my daily Alya report.” Nino tried to defend himself from the onslaught of hands trying to hit him from Marc and Nathaniel. “It gets complicated sometimes and you know my girl won’t let anything rest until she has all the info!”

“If Miss. Dupain-Cheng would like to, as you put it, actually be a thing, then I would be honoured to.” He said it so simply that Marinette wasn’t sure why she had hesitated before. He did like her. 

“Only if you wear your pajamas to our next late night planning session.” Marinette wasn’t willing to let the pajamas slide. “I have to see you out of a suit before we get all lovey dovey. It’s a rule.”

“Did you make that rule just for me?”

“Of course.”

“Well, don’t I feel special.” Felix thought to himself, making a bit of a show of it as he tossed his head side to hide. His braid that previously rested on his shoulder now swinging back and forth behind him, looking like a cat's tail as it got ready to play. “I think I have room to negotiate here, so if I may I am going to put the added condition that you must also wear your pajamas.”

“I don’t think this is supposed to be a business transaction, dude,” Nino tried, but Marinette held her hand up. She could negotiate. 

“I’ll accept those terms on the condition that you buy coffee, and we get to watch a movie together with some popcorn.” Marinette raised her brow, daring Felix to try to get a better deal out of her. 

“If I am purchasing coffee, popcorn, and a movie, then I will push for some baked goods from your parents bakery.” Felix held out his hand. “Well?”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Graham De Vanily, but I accept your terms.” Marinette took his hand and shook it. That was the most fun she had ever had while figuring out plans for a date, and she knew she’d have more fun watching the movie with Felix than she just did. “A movie date in our pajamas with snacks it is.”

“I’ll pick you up friday night at eight?” 

“I can’t wait to see your suit pajamas.”

“I bet you have frills on yours.”

“And you don’t?”

[mimiplaysgames]

Terraqua Week Day 4 (Legends/Tales)

Summary: Someone calls for help from the deepest depths of darkness. Terra and Aqua trace the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. || Word Count: 8,983

Read on AO3

A/N: @terraquaweek hooooo if you thought yesterday’s was angsty dkfjdkfjdk So everyone and their mom compares Terraqua to Orpheus and Eurydice (Orphydice?) and I totally agree. It was time to officially jump that wagon. This one was difficult though - originally, I was going to have them sitting near a fireplace and talking about fairy tales over drinks, but I think I did the sit down apology fic way too many times and needed something different. This one was a huge challenge in such a tiny frame of time though. It took me the longest to write (a whole week, when I normally take months), so I couldn’t clean it as much as I would like to. I hope you like it anyway! <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Long Way Down ~ no further debts to be paid

Aqua has been dragging him all over town, following a call—this gut-wrenching feeling that something is wrong and someone is crying but she doesn’t know who or where. Except here, wandering around Thebes, though Terra doesn’t mind at all. Keyblade wielders are supposed to follow their hearts. Terra will follow hers anywhere.

What he does mind, though, are these screaming fangirls. 

He collides head first into a neglected booth of rugs, scampering away from a group of young women who were trying to rip his left arm out of his socket, seeking pieces of his armor. They squeal, they cry, they sigh with all the fever of delusion. Champion! Terra! You’ve come back! You’re more beautiful than the gods! 

Aqua strides by him, hiding an amused smirk behind her elegant fingers. “You picked a good hiding place.” She straightens a bent rug and rolls it tighter, letting it lean on its side by the wall. 

Terra knocks a rug off of his head. “I did nothing to deserve this.”

“I nearly forgot,” Aqua says in a way that means she didn’t. “You won a championship.”

“Years ago. Once.” He kicks the pile on his back and crawls out. Zack and Hercules would never let it down if they hear about him hiding from harmless girls like he’s a mouse. “I’m no celebrity.”

“I beg to differ.” She unfolds a tapestry. Weaved into the fabric is a figure of a man armored in golds and burgundies, tall with dark hair and wielding a giant key. “You’re a story they share. Be grateful for your adoring fans.”

The only thing he’d be grateful for is the attention of the person standing right next to him. He never thought about the Olympus Coliseum championship while he was possessed and trapped in Darkness, not once. He thought of her every day and night. 

“I think you’re jealous they’re chasing me and not you, Master Aqua.”

“Well, I would handle it with more grace.” She beats dust out of the corner of a rug with her hand.

The way she jokes with him is instinctual, natural, but the way her eyes wander is not, like she’s not paying attention. They’ve searched Thebes for hours, and while the city-state’s stairs for hills and elaborate gardens are impressive, they’ve found no lead as to who Aqua is looking for. She unrolls another tapestry like she’s reading a scroll. She doesn’t even have a name, just a dream that spoke to her one night: Find me, please. 

“There’s nothing here, either,” she mumbles. 

Terra doesn’t know how to lift her spirits. “Maybe the answer is not in Thebes.”

“We haven’t searched everywhere.” She pulls out another tapestry that he’s sure she’s already deciphered.

How many times are they going to circle the marketplace? Terra sighs and risks peeking at the main street from the alleyway. If he stays close enough to Aqua, the fangirls stay farther away, as though she’s a repellant. Who knew Aqua makes for a good shield. 

The marketplace swarms with chatter and dust pickup from sandals and wheels. They’ve been through every store on this block. They’ve been through museums, they’ve listened to storytellers on the streets, met with sages and fortune tellers. There’s not much to deduce out of a whisper from a dream. 

A high-pitched scream breaks through the loud talk of shopgoers, and Terra summons his Keyblade, watching for Heartless.

It comes from a girl, pointing a finger at him. Everyone else gawks. She shivers from head to toe. “Terra!” 

At the sound of his name, like mockingbirds for sheep, they call out. “Terra!” 

“Damn the stars,” he mutters and sprints back into the alleyway, a stampede behind him. “Aqua?” She’s not by the rugs. “Aqua!” He turns the corner of the empty alleyway, stuck between choosing a direction in a crossover. There’s no sign of her, no sign of his star in the darkness or his shield.

A hand waves at him through a window. 

“Terra!” the girls squeal. 

He dashes, throwing himself through the window. He lands on his back, on hard concrete. Aqua cradles his head on her lap and keeps low beneath the windowsill, a finger to her lips as the wave of giggles and cries ride past them and fade away. 

“You were gone,” he whispers. 

Aqua brushes her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry,” she says, but she offers no explanation.

They’re in what looks like the back room of a pottery shop, half of them unpainted with the clay still slick, and the rest completed but possibly not inventoried yet. 

“We’re breaking into people’s homes now?” Terra asks, grunting.

“You needed a hiding place,” Aqua says. She sounds unlike herself. Too tone-deaf, too distracted, her heart in the right place to help him like she always does, but she’s disregarding the consequences she’d normally consider before making such rash decisions. 

“Why are we here?”

Aqua looks at him with a blank expression. “I don’t know.”

“You just waltzed in here?” He sighs. The shopkeeper is lucky Terra hasn’t destroyed anything when he crashed. He sits up and holds her chin, checking for vital signs of injury. “Are you feeling alright?”

Aqua grimaces. “Maybe we’re in here for a reason.” 

Or maybe she’s lost her mind. 

“Is it too early for me to say that I’m worried about you?”

“I’d say so.”

Terra scoffs and stands up, his knee hitting a table next to him. The vase on the surface rattles and spins. Aqua catches it. 

When she glances at the artwork, she glares. “This one.”

“Huh?”

The vase is stamped with an image in black. Two figures, a man and a woman, reach out for each other, but there’s a wall between them. 

“You recognize this?” Terra asks.

Aqua waits before she answers. On the man’s side is a lyre. On the woman’s, wisps of smoke. “Not really. But something about it is so unpleasant.”

It’s not much, but her reaction is the closest they have ever gotten so far. 

She takes the vase with her and heads out the window, the door to the rest of the shop locked. “I’m borrowing it.”

“Aqua—” 

“I’ll bring it back.”

Out in the alleyway, Aqua cradles the vase gently in her arms, desperately looking around for someone to talk to. 

As much as he doesn’t want to, he says, “We can head back to the marketplace.” 

The shuffle of feet approach them from behind the building next door. A lost girl blinks at them, her makeup smudged and running as though she’s been crying, her lip color smeared on her teeth. She recognizes Terra—

—Terra casts Silence on her and pulls her aside, up against a wall. “Shhh. Please don’t yell, please don’t yell.”

Without her voice, her squeals are replaced with gasps. She throws her arms around him. 

“Hey!”

Aqua runs up to them without acknowledging how Terra is peeling this girl off himself. She points to the vase. “Do you know who this is?” The girl stares back. “Can you tell me? Please?”

As much as he really doesn’t want to, there are miles he’s willing to trek just for Aqua. “If I remove my spell,” Terra tells the girl, “and you answer Aqua, very gently, who this picture is supposed to be of, I’ll let you hug me again.”

The girl’s eyes go wide and she nods. 

He recants his spell, and the girl suppresses her squeaks. 

“Oh gods, it’s really Terra.” She hops, pinning her hands in between her legs. “You smell so good. I love you, Terra. I mean, um…” Instead of speaking to Aqua, the girl just locks her eyes at him. “That’s Orpheus. Everyone knows who that is.”

The look on Aqua’s face tells Terra that her heart is stirring. 

“What’s his story?” Terra asks.

The girl is happy to oblige. “He sings the saddest ballads, all about the death of his most beloved wife.” She twirls a lock of hair. “Lost her to a snakebite. They say he went to the Underworld to find her, but he lost her along the way. He wasn’t a strong person.” She stands on her toes. “Not like you, Terra. You wouldn’t leave the one you love in the darkness, would you? You’d save them?”

Terra steps back. The onslaught of such specific questions makes him sick to his stomach. 

The girl leans forward. “Can I touch your hair?”

“No.” He slaps her hand out of the way.

“Where can I find him?” Aqua asks, completely serious. 

The girl rolls her eyes this time, as though it’s such a rude interruption. “If you trek up Mount Olympus, you’ll eventually cross a forest. You can find his head there.”

“His head?” Terra says. 

The girl steps up to meet him face to face. “They say he still sings—that’s how Death came to meet him. Anyone who hears his songs will be instantly enamored. Man and beast alike. Even the leaves and the stones will move just to be near him. That reminds me of you, Terra.”

Aqua—already sprinting back toward his direction from the pottery shop after leaving her borrowed vase at its windowsill—cuts between Terra and the fangirl, pulling him away from her by the hand. The hug he promised this girl is cancelled, and Terra is grateful for it

“Thank you!” Aqua says, not breaking her speed. The girl is left behind, dejected.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thebes is now a miniature, a toy town of red roofs and sandstone streets, that disappears from view as soon as they cross over a cliff, where the face of a forest is tucked away. The quiet greets them, a chirp of a bird here and there. 

Terra follows Aqua, not knowing where she’s going.

“So we’re looking for a severed head?” he asks. 

“According to the girl, yes.”

“Isn’t that a bit gruesome?”

“I think what she was hoping to do to you may be worse.”

Aqua skids to a stop. She looks over to her left, and runs in that direction. The treeline gets thicker, casting a dim filter over the ground. Aqua stops at a short, stone monument—a statue of a head on a pillar. The man’s face is carved with an open mouth, like he’s singing an opera. The trees sway in the wind. 

“That’s Orpheus?” Terra asks quietly. 

Aqua frowns. “I don’t hear a song.”

“I don’t, either.”

“But I feel so sad.” She holds a fist over her heart, her eyes watery.

Terra places a hand on her bare shoulder. She feels cold, and he has a sickly feeling that she’s getting worse. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know, yet. There’s not much I can do here. There’s no text, no clues.” Aqua walks, scanning the ground for a hint.

For a mural, there are no words or poems honored to Orpheus, no maps or glyphs that lend to any guidance. Terra touches the head of the pillar. He feels nothing. Keyblade wielders can be invulnerable to certain spells, but this is supposed to represent grief, and grief is Darkness. How he isn’t affected is an enigma to him—how he is spared and Aqua is not, is worrisome. 

“You know what I think?” he asks. 

She’s no longer there. Terra steps away from the statue. 

“Aqua?” 

No answer.

He jolts into a sprint, passing tree after tree with no sign of blue, none of her sashes flowing in the air. How did she get so far away?

Terra shouldn’t be so worried. The Heartless population here after the Keyblade War is minimal, and Aqua is more than capable of taking care of herself—but how she’s coming in and out of reality is more than Terra can bear. He can’t lose her. Not ever again.

“Aqua!”

Terra cries out in relief. She’s standing in a field of red flowers. Lilies, by the shape of them, speckled in the color of raspberries. Their stems curve over, swaying like bells. They’re not stretched towards the sun but hang towards the ground, as if they’re watching for fingers to climb out through the grass.

“I thought I lost you,” he says when he approaches her.

Aqua crosses her arms. “There’s something here.” When she inhales, she turns around like she just realized he was there. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Terra fights the urge to hug her. He loses, taking her in his arms. “I think I’m going crazy... I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says, though there’s so much more he needs to tell her. 

“What a little, perfect, crispy portrait of a love story,” a heedy voice says, pronouncing every syllable with sweet spite, exaggerated by hand movements. First is the creep of black smoke over the grass. A shadow emerges from behind a tree, bald head with blue fire for hair, a long black cloak wrapped around his body. “Really, it’s a photo op, an exhibition, a grand spectacle.” He frames them with his fingers. “Bluebird and the Waste of Space, classic. All the children will hear about it.”

“Of course you’re involved in this,” Terra spits, letting Aqua go. He keeps his Keyblade near, in case he needs to summon it.

“On the contrary, I’m the victim in this case.”

“Hades,” Aqua says, an icy chill to her voice. “These flowers...”

“You like them?” Hades flashes a grin, teeth sharp as needles. “A specialty from- you could say a good friend. They’re called eurydice, funnily enough.”

Aqua freezes.

“What’s so funny about that?” Terra asks, stepping in front of Aqua so he’s a barrier.

“I forgot you’re not the sharpest rock in the canyon,” Hades mumbles, before animating his hands, presenting his words like they’re a marketing technique. “Eurydice, the pride of the forest. A muse, a sprite, a dryad.” He motions quotation marks with his fingers. “‘She’s not like other girls,’ whatever you want to call her. A gold prize.”

It comes to Terra like the dawn. Orpheus’s wife.

“What is she to you?” Aqua asks, defensive. 

“Well…” Hades casually places a hand on his hip and relies on the other to tell his story. “The Underworld is a vibrant culture of flora. There’s still some Heartless mucking about in the crevices, little maggots, doing Zeus knows what, but…” He pinches the air with his fingers. “There was a teeny tiny leak, a blemish in the system.” He shrugs. “And she slipped. You want to save her, and I want her back in my perfectly packaged Paradise. We work together and we both win.”

Terra scoffs. “You lost a ghost in the Underworld?”

Hades bites a breathy laugh, flicking lint off his robe, a gross smile stretching across his face like he knows a dirty secret. “My Underworld is a tight machine. No. She went somewhere darker.”

Aqua is the first to speak after the silence. “I see.”

“You see what?” Terra says.

Aqua casts her eyes downward. She usually never breaks eye contact in the presence of an enemy. “She’s in the Realm of Darkness. That’s why I’m connected to her.” 

Aqua has often said that she thinks a piece of the Darkness will stay with her until her final day, a single thorn growing out of her heart. 

“It’s not a place for the sensitive.” Hades scoffs with false modesty.

This is something no one has the right to ask of her. “We’re not bringing Eurydice back to you,” Terra says.

Hades disappears in a blink, reappearing by Terra’s shoulder, his hand a warm pot on the stovetop. “You, my friend, are the last person to bargain.” He disappears again and bursts into flames by Aqua’s side. “Aren’t Keyblade wielders supposed to keep a world’s balance at the tip of their fingers? There’s only one place everyone ends up in this world. Who says you can take the dead away from me? Where else would they go?” 

Aqua won’t give him the merit of a look. She swats his smoke away like it’s a fly.

Hades continues, “You see, the living owe a debt. You borrow life to breathe here for a few short happy years, and when you’re done, you return back to where you came from. And if you borrow, then you owe.” He flashes the teeth. “Therefore, she’s mine.” Hades flicks a finger on Terra’s chest. “You—both of you—have cheated. You’re thieves, you reek of it. Talk about privilege.”

Terra stammers.

“We’ll do it,” Aqua says.

Hades taps all his fingers together. “I’m glad we came to an agreement.” 

“We didn’t agree to anything,” Terra says, his eyes begging Aqua for an alternative way to do this.

“Down boy. Your bite is just as intimidating as your bark.” Hades turns over his shoulder. “Oh, and one other thing.” He raises a finger, and addresses Terra directly. “Have you ever worked with ghosts before? Miserable company. They’re mopey, they babble too much about nonsense. Not the guest you want to invite over for dinner. They’re confused, it’s part of their nature. Being connected to one isn’t the most sane habit. If you’re not careful, they’ll infect you with their pain.” Hades winks, and nods toward Aqua. “You might want to keep an eye on her.”

Terra’s heart strikes his chest like a hammer to the blood vessel, and he swallows bile. Aqua doesn’t seem fazed. 

“Well,” Hades says, “it’s a long walk down. Stay healthy, drink water, don’t go crazy.” With that, he vanishes for good this time, leaving the wind gliding through the flowers, all looking for someone below.

“She’s nearby,” Aqua says, her voice breaking a silence that doesn’t want to be heard. Like poison to be drunk, denial to be told the truth, there’s no ignoring this. “I can open a door here.”

“You’re really going back?”

“I can’t let her continue to suffer,” she says. “But I won’t put you in danger, either.”

“Wait,” Terra says, getting in her way. “I’m coming with you.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I don’t expect it to be anything else. Danger doesn’t scare me.” Terra takes her face in his hand. “After everything you’ve been through, you can’t ask me to let you do this alone.”

Aqua opens her mouth as if to refuse but she grimaces. “I admit I would like the company this time.”

Terra’s heart thumps, stroking her cheek. “I’ll never turn my back on you again.”

“A shame. You look taller from behind,” she says, and he snorts. 

When she moves away, he feels hollow, a sudden need to hold her again invading his body. He shrugs the feeling off. “I’m texting Ven.” He pulls out his Gummiphone. “He’ll need to open a Door to Light for our return.”

“Yes.”

“Any tips for how to survive?”

Aqua summons her Keyblade and points to the ground. “The Realm of Darkness wants you to feel hopeless and scared. It feeds from your mind.” She looks at him. “You can’t trust what you think or feel. You won’t be able to tell the difference between you or the Darkness.”

“Then how are we supposed to find her and come back if we can’t even think?”

Aqua lifts an elegant shoulder. “You keep your head up. That’s your best defense. The Realm will do many things to make you want to give up, to make you doubt yourself. You have to choose your battles. Even if you feel like you’re being followed, don’t look back. Don’t give in to its tricks.”

It sounds like hell. It feels like a knife to the liver—Aqua has suffered so much. His biggest regret is not having the strength to break out of his prison and do something about it.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Aqua asks.

“Not at all.”

The way she smiles this time makes her look like herself. “You know, I feel better now. Much clearer.”

Terra hopes that’s a sign of sweeter things to come. The smile he gives is weak when she summons a Door to Darkness. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Realm of Darkness is a dirt path in a forest that sprawls under patches of stars, as though someone has taken photos of different skies and pasted them together in a collage. Few lanterns light the way, smokey as if caked in fog. It would be similar to a romantic walk on the mountain in the spring if not for what it really is.

Terra trails close behind Aqua, the cape of her armor bouncing in the air. She jogs with such confidence despite that they have no map and have never been here before—well, Aqua has, but not here. According to her, the Realm of Darkness never stays the same. There’s no path back the way they came. 

So far, it’s lacked excitement, a still silence as though this world’s heart has stopped beating. 

“How do we find her?” Terra asks, his voice loud enough to make him worry if something hidden behind the trees has heard him.

“We keep going.” 

A sudden clank, metal on metal. Terra sprints to her. “What’s going on?”

Aqua has stepped onto a metal surface, a sudden cutoff from the forest like mismatched puzzle pieces forced together, spreading beyond what they can see. When Terra steps on it, the boot of his armor reverberates from his weight. 

“I don’t like this,” Aqua says. 

The river is black and made of torn iron, shards that jut out like shredded waves frozen in time. Lanterns from broken boats wedge into the collisions, a ship graveyard where they all crashed into each other in a hurricane.

“What now?” Terra asks, hushed.

She turns to face him, her helmet obscuring her expression. “We keep going.”

Their only direction is forward. There’s no compass, no horizon to see where they’re going. They curve around mountains of broken war and cruise ships and melted steel, like hills to climb and descend. Whether they’ve trailed a huge arch and are going backwards, Terra can’t tell.

Then again, Aqua has said there is no backwards in the Realm of Darkness. But what if this river doesn’t have a shore?

“Those aren’t lights,” Aqua warns. 

Some of the lanterns bob up and down, blinking.

“Stars,” Terra curses, summoning his Keyblade. Aqua has already conjured hers and is throwing a blast against a group of eyes hiding inside half of a ship, its inner scaffolding exposed like bent needles. The impact combusts.

Heartless swarm up and rain on him. They’re stronger here, these small Shadows more resistant, withstanding his powerful swings when they’d normally be thrown far back. 

A huge crash rumbles behind them, and Terra is knocked onto his knees. A ship sinks as its bow breaks off. It sounds like a building caving in. 

Aqua grabs his elbow. “Forget it,” she yells over the clamor. They run past hordes of Heartless materializing from the metal as if they’re being born, more and more and more until the sea behind them is a mass of yellow eyes. Terra relies on nothing but his two legs, pushing and pushing them despite the strain to catch up to her. Ships and boats disintegrate, about to swallow them if they can’t find solid ground.

They step onto dirt, a slab of earth suspended in space. They’re blocked by a huge stone gate without walls. 

Aqua turns and slices her Keyblade across, light thrusting forward to cut through the first wave of Shadows. 

Terra grunts when he jabs his Keyblade, a beam striking the gate in the middle. He summons a keyhole, a plea to enter. 

The gate opens.

“Come on!” He grabs her elbow and bolts inside. Terra immediately pushes his weight against the gate, Aqua mimicking the same—a desperate slog at first, his breath hitched and pulsating at his temple, until they build momentum and shut it. At the slam of the door, dust drops from the ceiling and lands on their shoulders.

Behind them is a dim hallway of two choices: left and right. The little light they have here comes from nowhere.

Terra sighs, breathing heavily. The air inside his helmet doesn’t smell fresh. “Well, your heart, your pick.”

Aqua chuckles, her voice muffled. He wishes he could see her smile. “Enjoying your stay?”

“You’re sick.”

“Remember not to get too affected by what you see, Terra.” She holds his shoulder, her glove clunking onto his pauldron. “The Realm will probe your mind until it finds what it can use.”

She leads the way right, her steps kicking up clouds of dust. The entire floor is sand, sinking the sound of their steps. The hall turns left. It turns left again. 

Terra can’t shake the feeling that they’re being watched. He eyes the ceiling where the crevices that meet the wall are at their darkest, where he anticipates small, yellow eyes blinking at him. 

He thinks he hears something, but shrugs it off.

No, he has heard something. Growling.

It thrums louder and Terra is walking slower, growing a distance between him and Aqua who hasn’t noticed yet. 

The growling is coming from behind.

He turns.

There’s nothing.

“Aqua.”

“What is it?”

“I’m hearing an aggressive dog.”

“There are no dogs in the Realm of Darkness.”

“But it’s following us.”

“Trust me, there isn’t anything behind you.” She waves with her hand. “Come on. The Realm wants you to worry. The moment you start to believe it is when your heart begins to falter.”

At another two-way junction, Aqua chooses left—they’ve just gone in a circle. Terra expects to come back to the stone gate—but as though the Realm has heard him and is laughing at his assumptions, the hallway opens up into a path of eight directions. One of them a stairway up, one a stairway down. The opening next door is blocked from a staircase turned upside down, and the one next to that leads to a staircase that twists and leans on its side. 

Aqua chooses the way straight ahead, a long uncomplicated hallway.

The hallway turns right. She’s no longer there.

“Aqua!” Terra dashes forward and the hallway turns dark, like the twist of the knob on a lantern, a flame fading.

He turns over and heads back. “Aqua!” 

They went left, left, left, straight. All he has to do is trek that backwards. 

When Terra arrives at the large expanse of eight directions, Aqua comes in from behind him. “Terra!”

She runs into him when he halts and spreads his arms, their breastplates colliding. “Where did you go?” he asks.

“Down the hall, that’s it.” Her voice trembles. He’ll have to do better to be braver, for her. Aqua pulls away to look up at him. He wishes he could see her eyes. “What did I say about giving in?”

He licks his lips. “Don’t go back.”

Aqua swallows as if to stop a sob. “There’s no going back in this place, Terra. You could have gotten lost. The Realm wants you to doubt yourself.” She nods as if to make a point, her voice thick as if to mask how terrified she is. “Do you understand now?”

No. “We keep going.”

“I’ll stay close to you this time.” 

“Please.”

“I-I can’t lose you. Not again.”

“You won’t, I promise.”

She points to a hallway different from the one she chose earlier, and walks by his side this time, step by step. Down this way is brighter, the stone newer, the sand thinning until they step on cobble. The walls shrink into a tight foyer framed by fully lit torches, parchment and paper scattered all over as though a storm blew through a library. 

Terra bends to pick some up. They’re all blank.

“Love letters and songs,” Aqua says, reading through empty pages, “that Orpheus wrote to her.” She shakes her head. “The stories I grew up with were so stupid.”

“Which ones are we talking about?”

“Those books I used to read when I was a teenager.”

Terra grimaces. “About true love.”

“I believed them until the end.” She sighs. “They seem so silly now. That you could be in love at first sight, without ever bonding with them—without ever knowing the ties you create with them and how much it pains to have those cut. It’s improbable. How does anyone expect them to be willing to pluck their hearts out of their chests and sew them together like that? How is that supposed to be ‘true,’ or ‘pure?’ The trials they’ve gone through to prove themselves in the name of that love—so small in comparison to some.”

“You mean in comparison to what Orpheus tried to do.”

Aqua swipes her hand over a page to flatten the bends. “I can’t imagine how brave he had to prepare himself to be, and how little he cared for his personal safety. That he would descend so deep into darkness for her. After everything I’ve been through, I could say—that is love. The fairy tales I’ve read don’t come close.”

Terra watches her stack parchment together, tapping the edges so that they align, her movements stiff due to the armor. There are no written words to be read on the pages, but there’s not a single word that could describe the epiphany he’s having. That she is sitting next to him, that there are things neither of them uttered a sound for, that she is the same person who fell to the depths just to save him, that she is not the same child who used to sneer at his essays. That day, he only had a feeling that he was being hugged until he went to sleep, then he woke up twelve years later.

“You love me,” he says, part question, part certainty.

Aqua pauses. Her visor reflects his. “I do. I have for a long time.” She scoffs softly at herself. “You know, the Realm has brought you to me in lucid dreams. Five times. The first three, I told you how I felt. And you smiled. Then you were gone. I got fooled each time.” She hangs her head. “It was the fifth time that it was really you.”

“I remember,” Terra whispers. 

“I couldn’t say how I felt, but you took those precious few seconds we had to tell me not to give up. I realized later that I needed that more than saying anything.” She sighs, her breath parched from the helmet. “I never expected to say it again, here, of all places, but now… Now you’re here. And I love you.”

Terra leans forward, bracing her arm, the cusp between her shoulder and neck. He feels the inner padding of his gloves. They can’t take their helmets off, not here, but a swelling of solace fills him. For a moment, he forgets where he is, his imagination only seeing her face, his heart asking to break the metal and touch her.

“Do you have any idea how important you are to me?” he asks. 

She breathes like she’s laughing. “I have an inkling.”

He leans his helmet against hers. “With all my heart,” he says. 

“I thought so.” She squeezes his gauntlet. 

When they get out, the first thing he’ll do is take her in arms. 

“I think we’re close,” Aqua says, talking about Eurydice. 

They have to see the light of day first. When they get out, the first thing he’ll see is her smile.

“Let’s do it and get out here.”

Beyond the next archway is a new place: a cavern maze, the walls roughed up by raw mineral, crystals glowing pastel colors in the dark. It’s beautiful in its own expression, a small memory of whatever the Realm took and couldn’t digest. The single paths here are disorienting, the walls littered with natural dips and holes to take shortcuts.

The cave opens up to a jagged, rocky clearing, its natural structure much like a coliseum. He and Aqua stand at the top. The boulders cut off a clear sight of the path below, a single star in the sky and a single fig tree at the bottom, its exposed roots dug into a pond. Terra and Aqua descend, the rocks down here taller.

“Prepare yourself,” Aqua says, taking the lead.

Terra summons his Keyblade too, bracing himself for Heartless. A shadow moves near the tree, hiding behind one of the roots.

A surprised shriek comes from the tree, like it’s been woken up, and it shifts. The roots straighten out, the branches curl over and sharpen like claws. Cut through the trunk is the shape of a heart, empty and black inside. No yellow eyes. 

“What is that thing?” Terra yells before dodging. The tree slams its branches between him and Aqua. 

Terra trips. A tree root chokes his ankle, pulling him from under the dirt. 

Aqua doesn’t see it happening. She scrambles and ducks behind a boulder before the earth behind her collapses into a sinkhole. She climbs the boulder and jumps onto the canopy.

The tree rocks viciously to knock her off but she stabs the bark with her Keyblade to hold on. It digs its vines and branches into the ground. A flash of purple lighting cracks the boulders into halves. 

Terra cuts himself free. The root shrivels, and the ground it touched caves into nothingness. He dashes, taking fast cover behind boulders. It’s hard to tell if he’s effective since he doesn’t know whether the tree has blind spots. 

When roots shoot up to throttle him and fail, they punish the earth instead, ripping away respites and hiding spots. If enough of the dirt sinks, the boulders fall with it.

Terra can only keep running.

The only signs that Aqua is okay are the flashes of light from her Keyblade, spellcasting and waves of reflective blues crushing the tree. Stuck on the canopy, Aqua doesn’t have much room  to escape when the ground is collapsing at random. 

Terra yells and charges towards the tree, calling upon his Keyblade to transform into his glider. He slams into the roots, all of his offense and magic building up and combusting against the bark.

The tree tumbles and Aqua lets go. 

Terra catches her and flies up. He hovers a rock that is still holding on at the edge of a newly formed cliff.

A dark lightning bolt strikes from above and Aqua summons a barrier to protect them.

“It’s her,” Aqua says, straining to keep the barrier intact.

“That can’t be possible.”

“We don’t know what the Darkness can do to the dead. We don’t know anything.” Aqua chokes on her words. “But that’s Eurydice, I know it.”

The tree scratches at nothing and wails, its roots crumbling hard onto the ground with every step it makes. Eurydice sounds like anger, a need to make sure everyone else suffers with her. 

“The hole in her trunk, where her heart would be if she wasn’t dead.”

“Terra—”

“Say no more.”

He revs his glider and charges towards the clearing, now a gaping hole sunk down the middle with no bottom. Terra sticks to the cliff sides. Aqua jumps off from the back, high into the sky, waiting for his next move.

Terra lets go and holds on to his Keyblade’s grip. It stretches and transforms into a whip. He slaps one of the branches where it hooks, and slams his fist onto the ground. The tree careens. He keeps pulling, forcing the tree flat against the ground.

From the sky, Aqua points her Keyblade towards the trunk and calls. A beam of light strikes through the heart void, glowing. 

The tree shrieks and thrashes. Terra is thrown off and the tree slaps Aqua out of its way. Aqua lands on the side of a cliff, climbing up. The tree stampedes towards her with the motion to crush her. 

Aqua yells and yanks herself over, rolling onto her back, pointing her Keyblade up again. Her light blinds this time, a force that shocks the air and pushes everything with swept pressure. As though Aqua has summoned water, Terra is thrown, the currents taking him away. 

He lands and rolls. It’s quiet. 

His muscles ache and sting. He’ll have bruises but those don’t matter. Terra stumbles when he stands, leaning on a boulder near him. He peers over, praying for the image of Aqua climbing over the hole, but what he sees is a picture from before the nightmare: the clearing back in its original state, as though he has hallucinated everything. The rocky exterior makes it hard for him to notice anyone. If she’s crouching due to pain, if she’s stranded somewhere, knocked out…

His knees give out when he runs, and he tumbles down the hill. Summoning his glider, Terra asks it to carry his slacked weight. There is no puddle at the bottom anymore. He keeps himself up high where he has a vantage point, calling her name. There’s no sight of her. 

“I won’t be fooled. You’ll take me to her,” he tells the Realm. He scans. No sign of her. What if she’s buried beneath the earth...

A pale glow flickers between rocks.

He drops.

Aqua isn’t here. In her place is a green, ghostly apparition of a woman in a simple, flowy dress that allows for dancing, her long hair swaying to zephyr. Terra doesn’t need to ask for her name. His voice croaks. “Where is she?”

“Of whom do you speak?” Eurydice says. The ghost has no voice but a loud breath, as though she is whispering right into his ear. 

“Aqua!” he calls but he gets no answer. No sound of the pebbles crumpled by her bootsteps, nor the clank of armor. 

“Ah,” Eurydice sighs. “The one who looks like a naiad. A water nymph.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“In the labyrinth.”

Terra turns over his shoulder and starts up the hill. Where is the entrance they used to get here? 

“If you enter the labyrinth, you will lock her inside, Keybearer.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” His helmet feels tight. “How do you know about Keyblades?”

“The body is an entrapment, a vessel designed to define concepts that we can’t understand. What we call prayers, offerings, angels, the Light, the fountain of the gods, Keyblades, Kingdom Hearts, Paradise, Mount Olympus—all bear the same resemblance depending on the language we use. Without a body, I am not burdened by any of those barriers.” She holds her hands together with reverence. “Your armor glimmers like a star.”

“Can you feel her then? Is she hurt?”

“She is with you.”

That’s the same thing people say to him about Eraqus. Your Master will always be with you, no matter where you are. You just need the faith to know he’s there. 

I’m sure he’s proud of you.

I’m sure he knows how much you love him. He’s with you.

“Aqua!” Terra bolts into a run, picking whatever direction because this clearing is a circle and there is no exit. He’ll have to break one open. His helmet presses on the pulse in his neck. He’s losing oxygen. He’s gasping. He’s removing his helmet, collapsing to his knees, yelling at the most his lungs could give him, now that his voice is no longer muffled by metal. “Aqua!”

His throat throbs.

“No panic, no haven for panic, Keybearer.”

Terra stares at the dirt under him—cracked from drought, a single pebble and a patch of grass. “You should have taken me,” he wheezes. 

The ground rumbles and he snaps up, dying to see if it’s her. A giant hand pounds towards him, attached to a giant body with beedy yellow eyes and tentacles for a face. A Darkside, towering over him, watching him like it’s going to grant a wish. 

“Keybearer,” Eurydice warns.

The Darkside digs its fingers into the dirt like the roots of a tree. A black puddle opens up a pathway for the sprawl of eyes to crawl out. 

Terra would summon his Keyblade but he’s slow and tired. Numb. His skin is exposed to the Realm, and it seeps into him. It lulls him, it quiets him. There’s no sanity better than the world the mind makes up.

The Darkside grabs him. 

Terra is tired, watching for a hint of blue when he sees black. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Terra.

“Aqua.” 

Terra wakes submerged in an ocean. He reaches for her but grabs air. 

He’s gently sinking. 

So he’s lost her. He’s failed at his duty of protecting someone who needs his help. This is why Aqua is stronger than him. Terra could never survive in a place like this, he could never withstand twelve years of this torture. 

“Aqua, I’m so sorry.” He wants to cry but he can’t. The Realm won’t let him, anesthetizing the fall of tears. 

What is in the ocean with him? A monster he can’t see? Will it have teeth? Will it swallow him? Or will it watch him float here, waiting for him to turn so he could become one with it? Terra could let go here—

—but a faint glow hovers near, like breath to a limp body, like a light at the exit. There’s still time and a chance. If he can open his eyes, then Aqua could, wherever she is.

Eurydice watches the amoebas in the water, floating by herself. 

Terra swims to her. 

“‘Twasn’t a long wait,” she whispers when he approaches.

“I’m sorry for turning my back on you,” he tells her. “I’m glad you’re alright.”

Eurydice smiles at him. She looks sickly, hollowed cheeks down to the lines of her skull. But if she was healthy, she would be the beauty that captivated people in the forest. 

Terra takes her wrist and gravity takes them. They gently land on solid ground, in the black, in the middle of nothing. Endless dark, endless shadow, endless lack of everything.

“We can’t go anywhere without Aqua. We have to find her first.” Though Terra doesn’t know where he is or which direction he should take.

“We are everywhere, she is nowhere.”

“What does that mean, though? She isn’t here? Then where is she?”

“Below. Nowhere and the end. At the beginning, where you can’t see.”

Terra jerks forward to beg, but a ghost is the last person to ask for answers. He trembles. 

“You have a kind face,” Eurydice says. “The bards would have sung in honor of you.”

That’s no consolation. Terra sobs but it’s dry. 

“Beware, Keybearer.”

He hears the sloshing of water. His ankles are sunk under. 

If he despairs, the Darkness will take him. If he stays calm, he’s betraying her. 

“Aqua, what do I do?”

“I called to Lady Aqua because I saw her Light,” Eurydice says, nodding slowly. “The only star in the dark. I would trust her choice, always. I believe in the Fates.” She brings her hand to her chest. “I believe she brought me you.”

The truth stings, a slap to the face, the swallow of a knife, the burn of the tongue with a lighted match. He can’t bear it, but he has to. Aqua would trust him with anything. 

“I…” He is such a horrible person, looking at the face of the needy and the hurt but thinking about someone else. He can’t do it. He has to. “I was supposed to hold her when we got out.”

“We were to be married.”

Terra feels as though a pail of water was dumped on him. He takes a hard look at Eurydice, at how she’s trying to warn him with bulging eyes, distorting. Ghosts are emotional. “What happened to you?”

“I died. Vipers are the most unpleasant.”

Terra doesn’t want to ask, afraid of where this conversation will go. “And Orpheus?”

She brightens up, washed over by nostalgia. “He came for me. With his gift of song, he moved Hades enough to agree to be charitable. Hades granted me freedom so long as Orpheus accepted the terms.” 

Of course, Hades and his contracts. 

Eurydice’s face ashens more than it possibly can. “I was to follow. Orpheus was to lead me to the sunlit earth, so long as he did not look back at me while I was in the dark.” She pauses, as though her lips are sewn together. Talking about this hurts her. “So Orpheus led with much enthusiasm. So much at peace. I was to finally be with my beloved again, to smell the pomegranates and taste the olives.

“Love is powerful but Death more so. Every step was a moment to rethink. He could not hear me behind him, for I was a mere shade. Orpheus could not trust Hades. I could feel his anticipation, his desperate need to hold me dearly, his doubt that he was being played.”

“I can’t blame him.”

“At the end, right as the light was about to touch us, Orpheus lost his faith. He looked back to see my face.” Eurydice hugs herself. “I gave him my farewell and kind regards, then I was whisked away, back into the Underworld.”

“I’m so sorry.” Terra swallows, not liking what this is supposed to mean for him. “Aqua would have chosen to help you.”

“Will you set me free?”

“Yes, of course but—” He inhales. “How could I leave her?”

The look on Eurydice’s face stops him. “I did what was asked of me. I followed him. I kept close. I was loyal. I spoke to him though he could not hear me. And yet he turned and tore us apart. I have yet to understand what I did wrong to let him doubt me.”

“He didn’t doubt you.”

“Then why hesitate to trust Lady Aqua?”

Like a knife to the throat, Terra falls to his knees and grips at his chest, the guilt inside so heavy and thick that he wants to rip his armor off and cut it open, dig it all out so he could finally breathe. 

If she were here, Aqua would have told him to save Eurydice. There’s no denying that.

“I’m sorry,” he says, hoping Aqua could hear him. “I’d give you my whole heart if it meant you were here.” He swallows. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be back, just wait for me.” He doesn’t want to stand up, for that would mean that he’d have to walk. But he tells himself that there must be ways around this. There must be an exception, a line in the fine print. “Wait for me, I’ll come to you. I swear with every will I have to live.”

Terra stands. He summons his helmet. When he wears it, he finally cries, soft tears that feel warm then cool, muted because they’re delayed.

“Okay,” he tells Eurydice. “Let’s go.” 

He wades across the water, ripples that fan out and reflecting light that isn’t there. 

Eurydice floats by his side. “I’m grateful. The vipers are the most unpleasant.”

Terra stops a chuckle. “Yeah, you told me.” Repetition is a symptom for the eldritch, an obsession with what life was. Eurydice deserves so much better. “Do you have to go back to Hades?”

“Orpheus is with him. Once we reunite, we will walk the Underworld together.”

“But it’s a prison.”

Eurydice glances at him. “Man and god are the same. They associate death with misery and see the Underworld as nothing else. But we don’t see what you see.”

“The thought of Hades hating his job is satisfying.”

“He makes for an upsetting neighbor.” 

Terra scoffs. 

“But I shall be content. Death is powerful but Love more so.”

Terra doesn’t know how to respond, but it spells for him a kind of peace. The Realm numbs everything it touches. As long as they play by the rules, it’s not so bad. Aqua is the only balm he’d need.

“How shall we escape?”

“Ven—my best friend—is waiting on the other side. You see that light?” Ahead of them, far in the distance, is a star. “He has a door open for us.”

“But we’ve been walking for so long and yet it does not come closer. Are you not looking forward to seeing him?”

“Of course I am.” Terra slows to a stop. The water has reached to his waist.

Eurydice studies him with sadness. “You mean to stay here.”

Terra doesn’t answer Eurydice’s remark. “I mean to see you free and happy.” He holds out his hand and she takes it. 

Nothing is truly ever following Terra here, for the Darkness wants him to think so. So he will stay, walk forward and walk far without a map or a compass. Eventually, he’ll have to cross paths with her. There is no other place he’d want to go, and any world without her is a world behind him. With that vow to himself, the star finally comes close, the black fading into gray.

“Ven?” Terra calls.

“I have always wondered what it would be like to cross over,” Eurydice says.

Heavy, loud footsteps approach them. Ven appears in the light, in a box colored in white, his armor worn. “Terra? Finally, I’ve been—” He jerks his head towards Eurydice’s direction, the sharp rabbit ears of his helmet tilting. He leans forward as if to peer inside. He does not have a reflection in the water. “Where is Aqua?”

“We are everywhere, she is nowhere,” Eurydice says.

“You don’t see her?” Terra asks, his voice brittle. A tiny part of his heart was hoping he was wrong.

“Dude,” Ven says, “I can barely see you. You’re like an outline.” 

“That’s proof enough.”

“Such lies,” Eurydice says. 

“What is the ghost talking about?” Ven asks.

“It’s okay, Ven,” Terra says. “I’m going to find Aqua.” 

“I’ll come with you.”

“She’ll never forgive me if you follow.” Terra hangs his head. “Please don’t ask me to leave her.”

“That’s not—”

“I’m not afraid of the Realm of Darkness.”

Eurydice turns to Terra. “Such bravery yet you are frightened to cross the threshold for her. Is it natural that faith betrays you? Don’t do this to her. Don’t punish her.” 

Ven looks at her, looks at Terra, looks at her. 

Terra says, “Once I find her, I’ll be okay.” He moves to turn. 

Eurydice holds his shoulder. “Many don’t know how to love. They only know the fall, and they fall, waiting for peace to replace the ecstasy and despair. But it will not come if you do not beckon it. May you listen to your heart?”

His heart aches. 

Ven grabs his forearm. “I’m going to listen to the freaky lady. She knows more than you.”

“Ven—”

“I can’t lose both of you. We’ll figure out an action plan, and”—Ven uses all his weight and both of his hands to try to pull Terra over—“you’re coming with me.”

“I can’t leave her here.”

“We’re not! Come on, man, she’s strong.”

“Step forward with me. The vipers are most unpleasant,” Eurydice says.

Terra holds onto the doorframe. The sun hits his gloved fingers, baking them. Aqua, what do I do?

Terra, please. 

That’s Aqua’s voice, far away. For the Darkness wants him to think nothing is following him.

“You promise me we’ll come back?” Terra asks Ven.

“Of course. Anything for her.”

Terra doesn’t sob when he wants to. He doesn’t make a decision—he leaps, stepping forward into the light. Eurydice follows.

But a heavy ton, the Darkness, drags him back. Hands from the water grab his cape into bunches and pull on his neck. They hold onto his legs and bend his knees, desperate, like beggars that need his help, need the stars that glimmer in his armor.

One hand grabs his forearm, metal on metal, like it’s telling him not to forget something. 

Terra gasps. 

He grabs that hand and throws himself forward with a yell, ripping away from the Darkness begging him to stay, knocking Ven out of his balance, and pulling her out. 

Terra lands on his back and hears her gasp and whimper out of shock, relieved. He throws his helmet off.

“Aqua.”

Aqua’s blue armor stares at the grass while she takes in the scene, her sobs controlled and hushed. 

Terra pulls her helmet off to look at her face, stained with tears and tired smiles. “Aqua.”

“You didn’t hear me?” she asks, crying quietly. “No one heard or saw me, I was there the entire time.”

“I’m an idiot.” Terra weeps with her. He dispels his armor and touches her pauldron to dismiss hers. He holds her tightly. She’s warm and sweaty, small in comparison to him, folded into his chest like she fits perfectly. “Call me an idiot, I deserve it.”

Aqua’s cries tremble into laughter as she buries her face in his neck, twisting his suspenders in her fists. Terra lets her weight pull him onto the grass. “That girl was right. You smell good.”

“What are we talking about now?” Ven removes his helmet and brushes through his hair. Terra is so happy to see that chubby face. “Everything’s so confusing.”

“These girls have been chasing Terra. They’re harpies.” She looks up at him and smirks. “I don’t think they’d be pleased if they saw us like this.”

Terra chuckles into her hair. “I don’t care.”

“Wait,” Ven says, scoffing. “Now we’re going to be murdered by rabid fangirls? Ugh, Terra, why are you always inviting trouble? We don’t need it.” He slams his helmet back on. “Stay here, I’ll scout to see if it’s safe. I’m kicking your ass when we get back home.”

That’s fine. Terra will hold onto Aqua here, stroke his thumb on her cheek, wipe her hair off of her face, massage his hand over her exposed back, under the straps. It’s overcast, the clouds a respite. 

Flowers named eurydice watch over them, their anthers hanging close. 

“She’s okay,” Aqua whispers, sighing. Her body relaxes. “Thank you.”

Terra kisses her forehead and brings her waist closer. His star in the darkness. She blinks from behind blotted clouds.