#i have MUSIC and MULTIPLE SCREENS and i am ready to SCREAM

[oceaneyesinla]

oops i did it again i ran out of tags pls read those then read this! (this might end up longer than the last one i apologise in advance)💖

the DING of the BELL reminds her of him 🥺 i love them 🥺

'you'd be lying if you said you haven't enjoyed seeing the world in technicolour again' BANGER after BANGER after BANGER line! i know i said it before but you're getting her feelings across SO WELL

yes girl go treat yourself you deserve it

there is something special about existing in a city, even when you know it's a little rough around the edges (okay my city is NOT THIS BAD but it has a bit of a reputation ya know but i love it anyway)

i love the way you write about the city and how they feel about it - she knows its dangerous and it's shit but there's some kind of deep seated attachment nevertheless, even if it's to nothing more than the memories of what was

MITSURI MY SWEET ANGEL BABY GIRL

her voice is scratchy from lack of use 🥺 oh sweet girl

she does still have a sense of humour about the situation though, good for you girlie

oh i know who this BITCH IS STAY AWAY FROM HER BITCH BOY

run girl run he's a bitch and he sucks

omg did i SAY you could touch her bitch boy?!?!??! girl you are right to run and evade and dodge he is bad news

not wanting to cut ties completely with her parents just so SOMEONE confirms she's alive 😭

oh this girl is going THROUGH it rn

yes sanemi please acknowledge that your brother figured this out before you, he's a good boy and not a dummy like u

'given your responses to his bullshit in the past, assault and battery are very real possibilities' I LOVE THEM honestly boy she deserves to hit you with a book just a little .... gently .... as a treat

oh sanemi she won't leave you any more than you could leave her

OH NO sanemi bby he assumes the worst but her phone is just in her couch bc of him

HE WOULD TEAR THE CITY APART FOR HER!!!!! oh i feel awful for him bc he's so scared for her but also protective devoted sanemi do be looking good 👀

HIS YOU?!?!??!?! screaming, actually screaming i've read this twice now and this line IS STILL GETTING ME

he hasn't seen her in over a week (since he did a fuck and run!!!) and this is how he greets her

also i love that she's just following him around smacking him while he checks the place out they're both such idiots i adore them

this whole mini argument is so funny she just calls him a stupid 😂 the drama of them honestly

he nearly breaks down her door, takes her keys and LEAVES boy you are a chaotic mess you didn't even EXPLAIN anything indignant spluttering is the LEAST you deserve

he went to buy snacks and period stuff for her 🥺 oh he is down so bad at this point she could ask him to bark and he would 100% he would be sassy about it but he would do it

he accurately predicted shit being thrown at him 😂 he knows her so well - the visual image of this scene is SO FUNNY

i said it before and i'll say it again - being a shit is one of his love languages!

i adore this scene so much - it fits their dynamic SO MUCH - there's so many feelings at play but underneath it all they just want each other - it's absolutely MASTERFUL

the KEY oh he loves her so much THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH

he sees her for everything she is and LOVES HER ANYWAY HE CAME BACK

closing his hand around the key - 'i'm yours' !!!!!!! 😭

'it was inevitable' YES THEY ARE DESTINED TO BE TOGETHER

and of course they're right back to sassing each other

'you can't help but nuzzle into his palm' i will cry i stg 😭

cocky confident sanemi my beloved 🫶🏻

i would also be worrying about the oven, what if the pizza burns????

he was willing to let the oven set itself on fire but not willing to let her go hungry ?????? 🥺 HE LOVES HER

the CUDDLING, the AFFECTION .... YOUR sanemi !!!!!!

'you're his woman now, after all; that means it's on him to take care of business' OH MY GOD I THINK I JUST PASSED OUT hdjowodfjejjd

oh fuck the hand over the mouth, the confidence !!!!!!!

uM making her hold her shirt between her teeth?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?

he's SO FOCUSED on making sure she's comfortable 🥺

'you're drawing him in like a magnet, your body his North Star' something something magnetic north, something something COMPASS oh god the symbolism i'm in LOVE

'it's you. it has always been you' my HEART

'you ain't gotta do a thing but take it' 😳 i would say something but it is not appropriate for polite company AT ALL just know i will be thinking about this for WEEKS

the praise THE PRAISE the possessiveness i might pass out

i adore that he blurts out everything when he's balls deep does her 😺 produce truth serum or does his brain just short out ???

he's so GENTLE with her like yeah he's fucking her hard and fast but he's so focused on her and her pleasure and her comfort truly she is the centre of his universe they've always been orbiting each other they were destined to crash together like this

the WAY he talks her through it

the brand - he likes her touching it because he can pretend just for a moment that he can escape, that the only brand he has is the one she's leaving with her touch - that the only brand that matters is the one she's left on his heart

their banter is everything to me (and also sanemi being a freaky lil horndog)

'under the beast's mask lies the endless beauty that makes up Sanemi Shinazugawa' this line is beautiful and this metaphor is incredible and *incoherent squeaking*

their intimacy is everything - their love is so earnest and genuine, they're just two people and they've got so many hang ups and issues and traumas and problems but they love each other BECAUSE of all that

oh her not knowing if anyone would notice if she disappeared i have some experience with this and you have got it across SO WELL you have absolutely nailed it in every imaginable way

'home is wherever you are' i have arbitrarily decided that Where I Want To Be is compass sanemi's song in my head

oh boy here it is! i'm pretty sure this is longer than the last one and about as coherent (i.e not at all)

this chapter was INCREDIBLE and i am so excited to see what comes next for them! this world you're building is so rich and intriguing and i am so proud and happy and grateful that i get to call someone so talented my friend!

COMPASS / CHAPTER 3

bad boy! Sanemi x Reader ✦ gang AU

A/N: eat up, loves. Enjoy the filth and domestic bliss of this chapter now, because we’re right back to the seedy violence of the Corps in Chapter 4.

CW: explicit sexual content • MDNI • period sex • grinding • lots of tit play • brief cervix fucking • creampie • Sanemi is a certified yapper in bed • light angst • humor • two idiots helplessly in love • mentions of a gun • mentions of gang violence • bookshop AU • gang AU

MASTERLIST HERE

COMPASS – CHAPTER 3 

It’s hard to notice the way time stops when you aren’t paying attention to it; when you have no reason to bother. 

Life hasn’t always been this way – lonely. In fact, your upbringing had been on the cushier side of comfortable, and you’d thought you’d been surrounded by love, from both family and friends alike. High school hadn’t been any different, You’d had a social circle, you’d been involved in extracurriculars, and you had a good relationship with your parents and siblings. 

Or, so you’d believed. Because then you graduated and everyone moved on while you were left  behind. 

That was when time stopped. 

Not literally, of course. Birthdays came and went, as did Christmas. Your hair changed, and so did your living arrangements. Six weeks after you graduated, you moved out of your parents’ place into your current apartment, and enrolled in the local university. Your siblings continued growing up and apart, each making their way through school and setting out on their own. At the time, it felt natural. They each had their own lives, as you did, so you hadn’t paid it much mind. 

That’s the tricky thing about it; it wasn’t something that happened all at once. It was slow, a trickle of sand in an hourglass you didn’t know had been turned. Only when the last grain fell did you realize the clock had been running at all, and by that point, it was too late. 

It started as an exodus of sorts from the city, right after graduation. Leaving home behind in search of greener pasteurs elsewhere wasn’t uncommon, so it hadn’t seemed all that surprising that communications with those you’d once called your friends, dwindled. But then, those who left never came back, even to visit, and the few who did never lingered for long. 

Had there been signs that the cancer was spreading? It’s hard to remember. Violence and crime has always been a party of life in the City, just as it is in any metropolitan area. The adults in your life always claimed such things were contained, an epidemic confined to the Silo and its poverty. As though the destitution of the neighborhood was somehow justified, a punishment befitting of those who had the misfortune of being born on the wrong side of a junkyard. 

Growing up, you’d eavesdropped on more than your fair share of adult conversations. At least, enough so to know that income lines did not curb misdeeds; it only changed them, gave them modifiers like white collar and organized, as though somehow that softened the brutal reality. As though the covert whispers behind the hands of adults at school functions or neighborhood gatherings whenever a family came into a sudden abundance of wealth or someone sported an injury they couldn’t explain, changed anything at all. 

If the crime in the Silo was the pot, then the crime bubbling under the sruface of neat shrubs and cobbled streets in your area of town had been the kettle. And the Corps had its hand in both. 

In hindsight, you often find yourself wondering whether your former friends had simply been lucky to get out before the empire began to crumble, or whether they’d simply seen writing on a wall you hadn’t known to read. Because once the turf wars between rival gangs began to escalate and spill over from their confinement in the Silo, those visits from friends fizzled out all together, and you never heard another word. Not from any of them. 

Your family, apparently, also had sensed whatever metamorphosis lingered on the City’s horizon, even if they hadn’t bothered to warn you, too. Once your youngest sister set off for university in a distant town – the very one who’d brought Sanemi to your family’s stoop that day, years ago – your parents swiftly packed up the townhouse you’d grown up in and put it on the market. 

They only told you they were moving after the place sold. 

They didn’t offer to take you with them, and you didn’t bother to ask. You didn’t even have their mailing address until that Christmas, when a festive little card arrived in the mail, bearing only Season’s Greetings from Mom and Dad.

Sure, maybe you’d realized a hair too late that you were only a transient presence in the lives of those you’d once considered friends, but the relegation to the background of your own family’s portrait had stung. Not important enough to be remembered, but too significant to forget. 

You tried, for a while, but it hurt even more that they never bothered to check in. After the second birthday without so much as a card or a phonecall, you stopped altogether. 

Alone, with nothing but a semi-failing bookstore to keep you busy, you quickly faded into the skyline of the city you’d once loved. And even it couldn’t keep itself from rotting. You tried not to resent it; decay, at least, still meant change. You just remained stuck. Frozen. 

When monotony is your only companion, it doesn’t take long to lose the senses that risk breaking it up. After a while, your eyes learned to stop seeing. Sounds folded together and became muffled, fading to little more than a single, dull buzz humming in ears that forgot how to pick out the chirping of morning birds or the incessant honking accompanying morning rush hour. 

Some days, you wondered whether you might be a ghost; others, you had to convince yourself you weren’t. 

And then he came along. 

———

“Come again!” 

Your farewell falls well short of the customer already halfway down the street, instead smacking right into the wood of the door as it slams shut behind him.

Sighing, you slouch against the top of your counter, your fist propped underneath your cheek. Great. Of course the first customer finally to grace your store after a whole day’s worth of nothing ended up being as dull as the hours you’ve spent bored behind the cash register. From the moment he’d stepped inside, he’d barely acknowledged your existence. Your helpful inquiries into whether he was looking for anything in particular, or how his day was going as you rang him up when unanswered, save an odd chuff.

And so, out the door goes your first brush with human contact in several days. Pathetic, but even more so when you consider how long it might be until you saw another person again. The hours spent laboring at the store didn’t offer much in the way of free time, and you don’t really have a social life capable of filling in the gaps, anyways.

Well, maybe you did. You had, up until a few days ago, at least. Whether that is still true now, however, isn’t something you’re particularly interested in unpacking. 

Thus, you’re left alone. Again.

Disheartened, your head slumps against your arm. You could always go back to your novel. It’s a crime fantasy; a latest release from an author you’d gotten into a few weeks earlier, the first book snagged off the shelf right before you closed up for the night. Rolling your head to the side, you eye the book, face down on the other end of the counter.

You scrunch your nose before rolling your head back the other direction, ignoring the book. Reading is the last thing you feel like doing right now, considering it’s all you’ve been doing. Once, you would’ve been thrilled at the prospect of having an entire day to spend behind the counter, flipping through a novel or two, completely undisturbed by the ringing of the store’s bell. But that was before you’d grown accustomed to a certain impish, foul-mouthed gang member who enjoyed hanging around the bookstore almost as much as he relished being a pain in your ass.

What you wouldn’t give to hear a snarky comment or scoff from him, now. 

Without Sanemi loitering around, a disquieting stillness has settled around the store. The distant howl of police sirens almost feels welcome, if nothing more than for how it breaks up the nearly suffocating silence of the store. 

Maybe it’s time to harass your boss about store advertising again. If you have to endure another week of silence this loud, you might just shove your head through the wall.

Realistically, you only have to tough out the summer slump for another month or so. Foot-traffic tended to pick up in the last weeks of August, when grouchy parents dragged in their children to buy the listed assigned reading books conveniently forgotten until the dwindling days leading into a new school year. And even once the back to school rush finally subsisted, you only had a few weeks to catch up on all the cataloging and ordering you’d missed fielding pissy parents before the holiday season began. As though the sudden shortage of certain titles was your fault, and not the consequence of their snot-nosed kids’ procrastination. 

But August is still weeks away. June has barely settled, the summer heat only just beginning to ramp up. The days have already become unbearably warm, the only relief coming at night, but even that would soon come to an end. Before long, everything would be intolerable — the weather, the silence, the lack of anything and everything that had made life for the last year enjoyable.

You crane your neck around to squint at the old-fashioned clock hanging beside the front door. It’s only half-past four, and the store doesn’t close until eight. 

Groaning, you thud your head against the counter. Three and a half more hours to go. 

You could scroll endlessly on your phone, but that would require looking at it, and that would be pointless. You know there are no missed calls; no texts, no pictures of a recent read with a scarred hand giving a thumbs-up or thumbs-down. If you look at it, you know you’ll see nothing and you will still be disappointed. Might as well save yourself the trouble, even if you can no longer avoid acknowledging the root cause of your terrible mood.

What a stupid asshole he is. What a stupid, idiotic, moronic asshole. 

When Sanemi Shinazugawa first exploded into your store last summer, you’d known you’d have to contend with a number of possible consequences as a result of getting involved. There’d been the obvious: the potential for arrest as his co-conspirator, for example, despite having not seen him in the three years following high school graduation. You’d devoted plenty of hours at the store reading crime novels, enough to know the police weren’t particularly careful about who got caught in their crosshairs. It would be almost too easy to deem you guilty by mere proximity to the scowling criminal you’d stuffed under your counter, even if the only association you’d ever had with him had been a decade earlier, when he’d been playing hero. 

Of course, that outcome hadn’t been the only slot on your bingo card, and once you’d pulled off your little stunt of hiding him away, you’d been forced to consider other options. Perhaps he would demand free pick of your store’s inventory with the same casual arrogance he’d had striding out that day, book in his hand and not a damn dollar paid for it. Maybe he’d want your shabby bookstore to become a front for whatever nefarious dealings he did on behalf of the Corps. 

As time went on, the fallout options from your budding friendship with Sanemi began to evolve. The closer you grew to him, the more dismal the potential ending: maybe you’d end up seeing something you shouldn’t, and he’d have to cut you out to prevent any further harm. Hell, you’d even grappled with the very real possibility of getting tangled up in something you shouldn’t, only to disappear without a trace, right alongside him. 

Years spent in relative isolation meant you had an imagination that could outpace most others, so really, there was no shortage of possibilities that getting involved with Sanemi Shinazugawa might entail. It was pragmatic, on your end. Know what to expect and that way, you wouldn’t be caught off guard in the event whatever you had with him ended in a blaze of glory. Or gunfire. 

As wild as your imagination could get, not one damn time had it accounted for you falling in love with the stupid asshole. And yet, here you are, just as much an idiot as he is, but with nothing to show for it. 

Not entirely true, you think with a small snort as you start up the store’s computer, clicking through a catalogue of upcoming releases eligible for the next shipment. He’d left you that morning with a dozen knots in your hair and a soreness between your legs that lingered for a few days afterward, even when he didn’t. Now, here you are, six days out from Sanemi taking your virginity, and you haven’t heard a god damn word from him. 

Not that you’re bitter about it. 

As you scroll through the website of the store’s main distributor, one title manages to catch your eye. It’s newer, but it’s only you’d already stocked a few days earlier, having reserved a handful of copies the moment the publisher opened up preorders to smaller retailers. 

You’d created an alert on your phone for that very reason, one set to go off the second the order window opened, so you could be sure the early releases arrived as quickly as possible. All because of a certain, low-life felon and his fat mouth. 

Whaddya mean I gotta wait another four months ‘til the next one? Sanemi had whined, tossing his book onto your counter. It was the third installment in a fantasy series you’d turned him onto, and he’d rapidly devoured it with the same veracity as he’d had the other two. That’s bullshit.

That’s publishing, you’d snipped back, shoving his arms off the freshly wiped-down surface of the store counter. 

Undeterred by your roughness, Sanemi only winked and re-settled himself, a preening smirk tugging at his lips as he plopped his elbow right back where you didn’t want it. Guess you’ll have to think of somethin’ else to occupy me with, Princess. 

Oh? You leveled that insufferable smugness with a sly grin of your own. What do you suggest? 

You got brains that match all that beauty. ‘M sure you’ll come up with something. He’d replied, tapping your nose with your finger, and snorting when you jerked away. 

In retrospect, the blatant flirting made you want to crawl under your counter and never emerge again. He’d been so damn obvious, and you’d eaten every bit of it up. Perhaps that’d been his plan all along, and you’d fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. 

It’s hard not to let insecurity gnaw at you but you’re only human, and your edges are becoming more jagged. 

You exit out of the web browser, unenthused. Nothing had particularly caught your eye, but then again, not much was capable of holding your attention, lately. Nothing, save the constant replay of that night and the next morning, and you’d picked that particular bone clean. There was nothing left to dissect, not even the marrow, but that didn’t stop you from returning to it, again and again. 

You roll your shoulders. The best thing you can do for yourself is to find a distraction. 

The back stock room sits full of new releases, and it’s been a few weeks since you updated the store’s colorful display of fresh titles. A bonus of having nearly total control over the bookstore is that you get to decide how displays are arranged, and it’s something you’ve grown to take pride in. With a sigh, you grab the circlet of keys from its peg beneath the store counter and head for store room. Might as well speed along the last two hours of the store’s operation, and give yourself something else to do that isn’t this – feeling hopelessly, pathetically sorry for yourself. 

Two trips between the back room and the store’s merry front later, and you set to work. At first, the chaos in your head is smoothed blissfully over as you focus on clearing the shelf of its its previous New Releases, stacking the books up in neat piles to be shelved in their proper sections later. But your concentration is weak, at best, and a task as tedious as this makes your mind go blank, leaves behind a clean slate upon which it can map out all your insecurities. 

Logically, it isn’t hard to imagine why Sanemi’s giving you the cold shoulder.  He made it obvious that night, when he tried putting on the airs of a big, scary monster he imagined himself to be, though you’d long since learned how to see right through the facade. Even if he’d made good on his empty threat to handle you roughly, he would’ve regretted it — so much so, you doubt he would’ve been able to keep the charade up through the end. Sanemi didn’t seem like the type who got off roughing up his partners.

Given how gentle he’d been in the hours that followed, it seemed you’d been proven right. If only he could realize it, too. Maybe then, he’d figure out how to get his head out of his ass. 

Sighing, you toss the last of the previous display’s books aside, and set to work on dusting down the shelves. The venom in your thoughts has less to do with your scar-speckled best friend and more to do with the bruise to your ego you’ve spent the last five days nursing. For all the ways Sanemi’s experience between the sheets greatly outpaces yours, it’s also limited. Affection wasn’t something he’d been known to give. In fact, you’d spent a fair deal of time wracking your brain, trying to remember whether you’d ever heard of him being in a relationship – as teens or otherwise – only to come up empty-handed. 

In this respect, at least, he’s no smarter than you are. Actually, he’s probably more of an idiot for it, given how he seems to lack the tact to send a basic courtesy text. A casual, hey, talk soon. 

Casual, you snort, as you begin restocking the New Arrivals section. Sanemi Shinazugawa might be better known for his casual dalliances, but nothing about what transpired between you had been casual. Not even fucking close. 

An hour passes, and you almost feel at ease, finally left alone by the constant whizz and whir of intrusive thoughts you know better than to indulge. You’re nearly finished with a row of new romance titles, when the title of one in particular snags your attention. 

Only Casual. A resounding fuck you from the universe if you’ve ever known one. You wouldn’t have been more surprised if the letters leapt off the book’s glossy front cover to smack you square in the nose. 

The longer you stare down at the title, the more doubt threatens to creep back in, lapping at the shore of your mind with its seductive hiss. Maybe you haven’t heard from him because you never will again. Maybe it was only casual. Because that’s Sanemi’s nature, and you’d given it up for someone who would never be capable of anything more than that. 

“Stop it,” you chide yourself, taken aback by your own venomous thoughts. That’s not him; at least, you’re almost certain it isn’t. Sanemi’s no-strings attached reputation had been well-known, and that has to mean he was transparent with his past partners about his intentions. If you truly were another notch in his belt, he would’ve said something, and he’d never struck you as the dishonest type. But Sanem’s persistent silence has bred a foreign sort of doubt in you that you haven’t quite figured out how to shake. “Where’s spiraling going to get you, stupid?” 

Casual wouldn’t have been Sanemi trying desperately to scare you away when you’d asked the most of him. It wouldn’t have made him insist – quietly, resignedly – that you deserved someone better than him. And somehow, you don’t think it was very casual for him to fuck you without protection or sleep naked with you in your bed. 

I love you, Sanemi. 

That certainly hadn’t been very casual, either, nor was the torturous look in his eyes that followed. The pain could very well have been born from a place of rejection, sure. Another punch to an already throbbing bruise because you were again crossing a line you’d already asked him to blur. That, despite the sheer possession embedded in every movement of his body and lips, he could not and would not love you back.

Books fully stocked, you turn your attention to the pile of titles that need to be assigned to their proper sections. Your eyes flick to the clock on the backwall, and with joy, you see that it’s already five-past closing. Satisfied, you flip the Open sign in the front window to Closed and turn the top lock on the door. The pile will have to wait until tomorrow morning. It’s time for you to get the hell out of this asylum. 

Closing time at the bookstore is a monotony you never mind, because it always means you’re leaving. You complete your tasks with ease, cashing out the register and taking the funds to the safe in the storeroom, to be picked up by the owner at the end of the week. 

As you gather your water bottle and bag, you chew absently on your thumbnail, mind still working through the mess your isolation has created. 

It’s only been five days. In the grand scheme of your friendship, that was nothing. Sanemi said you’d hear from him, and he’d never given you a reason to doubt him. 

So, you’ll continue doing the only thing you know how to do, where he’s concerned.

You will wait. 

———

Waiting, as it turns out, is far easier said than done. Or, maybe, Sanemi is just more of an idiot than you gave him credit for. 

Either way, your phone is still silent and you are still alone. 

Perhaps your self-assurance that you need only wait for Sanemi to come slinking back had been too optimistic. Because as five days become six, seven, eight, that certainty becomes tainted by doubt. Admittedly, it’s only a little, but it’s still substantial enough to form a pit in your stomach. One that gnaws at your edges just enough to irritate you, an itch you can’t quite scratch.

At first, it’s easy to ignore; after all, gaps in Sanemi’s communication aren’t uncommon. In fact, you’re fairly used to going days or sometimes even more than a week without hearing from him. Usually, he broke his silence with some dumb meme or an abrupt you eat yet? that let you know he wasn’t dead in some ditch. 

But the more days that pass leaving you with nothing but your thoughts for company, that sourness festers. Because, beneath your irritation lingers the faintest trace of insecurity. 

Is it irrational? Maybe. And you’re not so stupid that you can’t draw the very obvious connection between his silence and your anxiety. No, you’re painfully aware that your insecurity has everything to do with how the two of you left things after that night. 

You don’t bother wondering whether you might feel differently had you not blurted out those three words that meant nothing between you would ever be the same. That particular ship sailed the moment you fell back against your sheets, naked, and begged him to make you his. The moment he agreed.

The constant reminders of him aren’t helpful, either. Every ding! of the store bell sends your heart pounding only for the bitter taste of disappointment to fill your mouth when you realize the newest patron is without the mop of silvery white hair or priggish smirk you so desperately long to see.

Does your ridiculous pining inspire you to reach for your phone? Of course not. Sanemi’s the one who owes you that; it’s his rules that have dictated whatever it is that’s blossomed between you in the last year. You can’t make his choice for him, not when he won’t so much as clue you in on the options. The why.

But god, do you wish you knew. 

—

The ninth morning arrives just like the previous eight: hot, humid, and without a goddamn word from Sanemi. 

The day passes like all the others. You rise at six, dress, and try to pretend there isn’t a headache blooming behind your right eye. You make it to the store by seven, and do your opening duties, make shitty coffee in the store’s shittier coffee pot, and settle in behind the counter. Customers trickle in throughout the day and you greet them with the same, plastered smile, carefully perfected over the two years you’ve spent shackled here.

The hours whiz by, and every tick of the clock hand becomes duller. Even the sirens that set off every so often in various directions around the store seem muted, despite their persistent wailing. The faces of shoppers blur together, and by midday, you’ve forgotten how to see them at all.  

You wonder whether you’re falling right back into that frozen stasis in which you’d lived before Sanemi exploded into your store, dragging in with him a string of felonies, his foul mouth, and the sun. It’s a frightening thought, but not frightening enough, it seems, to keep the color from leeching out of the world around you.

You shake your head. No, you won’t do that again. Whatever you’d been doing before Sanemi hadn’t been living; it was barely more than existing. As bright as your world had been since he’d become a part of it, you can’t chalk your happiness up to him. It isn’t a burden he asked for, and it would be unfair for you to dump it on him. After all, he must’ve been just as lonely, if he’d sought a friend in you.

You’ll survive without him; you know you will. After all, you’ve managed just fine, these last few years. 

But you’d be lying if you said you haven’t enjoyed seeing the world in technicolor again. And that is enough to make you hope (desperately) that Sanemi might think of his world as a little brighter with you in it, too. 

—

By the time you close up for the night, your dull headache has blossomed into a raging migraine that threatens to split your skull in two. A perfect shit cherry to top off this wonderfully shit day.��

Of course, your headache could have everything to do with the fact you’ve gone the entire day without a meal, but it’s easier to blame Sanemi and his silence, so you do. Still, the thought of cereal yet again churns your stomach. 

Twilight has settled over the city skyline when you leave the store, dark and locked up tightly.  The neon lights of the city have already switched on, bathing the sidewalks in their artificial glow. The air has thankfully cooled, but it’s still sticky, and sweat beads around your temple before you’ve made it down the block. 

There are few things in this city that make life enjoyable. The closet you loosely call home is egregiously overpriced and in the summer, damn near uninhabitable. The bookstore pays far too little to justify the amount of work you do. And, it’s not like you have ties to anything or anyone here, save a criminal who can’t be bothered to shoot you a goddamn text. 

But the diner on Twelfth Street? That dingy hole in the wall with the best breakfast menu in town is almost enough to make up for all of the City’s shortcomings. 

The promise of buttery pancakes and salty bacon makes your mouth water, and that alone is enough for you to change course. Home can wait; you deserve to treat yourself, for once.  

You make the turn down Market, treading the familiar path toward the diner. Sanemi once told you that the safest times to walk these streets was dawn and dusk — the transitional periods of the day, when regular nine-to-fivers went about their daily commutes. For one, blissful hour at sunrise and sunset, the City returned to the bustling metropolis of your memory. Office workers crowded the streets, stopped in at shops lining the sidewalks for last minute errands or quick dinners, as they pretended to not hear the distant sirens over the honking of impatient cars and beeps from the crosswalks. 

Though, you think as you eye a group of young adults crowded around a table outside one of restaurants, perhaps none of them are pretending. Maybe they’re painfully aware that they’re stranded on a sinking ship. Maybe they’ve decided to just enjoy what few precious moments they have, before it all goes down for good. 

Or, maybe they haven’t noticed there’s any water rising, at all. 

In fairness, it’s not like you’re any better than they are. Here you are, playing at a cozy (albeit, boring) life, working at a bookstore that has no connection to either the Corps or its rivals. No protection. 

Arguably, that means you’re worse; you know all too well of the danger life here poses, but here you are, clinging to the fraying vestiges of normalcy like it might be worth salvaging. 

Oh well. If the merry twenty-somethings gathered outside and toasting to overpriced wine haven’t caught on by now, they never will. Not until their favorite restaurant goes up in flames, or the sharp crack of gunfire shatters their pretty stemmed glasses. 

Just as it happened in the other boroughs of the City, like the Western Wing. The Kizuki, you recalled Sanemi saying, spitting the name like a curse. Don’t fuckin’ go near the Western Wing, you hear me? Off limits. Silo, too.

If he eventually came back, how long before he’d be warning you about your own small corner of the world? Where else could you go, once the bones of the City finally went up in flames?

The place Sanemi would: its ashes.

—-

The diner is teeming with rush hour patrons, and you have to force your way through a gaggle of teens to reach the pickup counter. Despite how cramped the inside is, one of the waitresses manages to spot you, calling out your name in greeting. A few seconds later; and she appears just behind the counter in a whirl of pink and green, and hands off your to-go order with a beaming smile. You pass her your money, and waive her off when she tries to give you change.

She could use it; you’re all too familiar with the strain of meager wages.

You make to depart the diner with a cheerful “thank you!” called back to your waitress, though you can’t tell whether she heard you. Your voice is hoarse, your throat, scratchy from days of non-use, and your farewell barely rises above the hum of the other patrons. The lump of self-pity sitting that’s been sitting in your gut hardens. You’d anticipated the mental toll from your utter lack of human connection, but you hadn’t expected any physical effects from it. If nothing else, let Sanemi’s absence be your very obvious sign from the universe that you need to find yourself a friend. Preferably, one who isn’t habitually involved in illegal activity that may or may not land you in jail as his unwitting accomplice. 

Takeout secured, you work to squeeze through the thick clusters of dine-in patrons, eyes fixed on the exit as you dodge an odd elbow here and there. Right as you reach for the metal bar on the door, your foot stubs into something hard. It’s enough to nearly send you flailing, your hands crinkling the brown paper bag containing your dinner before it can spill all over the sticky tile.   

You barely have time to finish sputtering your curse when a hand grabs your forearm, steadying you. The thing responsible for your collison is a man, one apparently trying to decide whether he wanted to order or chance somewhere else, given how he lingers in the doorway.

Inwardly, you know he’s in the wrong because he’s blocking the exit, but that doesn’t stop you from rushing to apologize, anyway. To his credit, he waves you off. Eager to make your escape, you ready some nicety that will allow you to slip out the front door.

The moment he meets your eyes, any platitudes you might have offered dry right up on your tongue. 

Here, in a city surrounded by skyscrapers and streets lined with buildings jam-packed together like sardines, there’s little room for space, and it’s not something you’ve ever particularly missed. But as you stare into his eyes — black and cold — you finally realize what it means for something to be empty; how it feels, to look into an abyss.

Perhaps it’s because this man has within him, a void, that his eyes reflect the neon signage cluttering the diner’s walls. That’s the only explanation you can ration, given the way they seem to blend and swirl together in those depthless pools, creating an odd blend of colors. Unnatural and unnerving. He grins and it’s sharp, wicked thing. His mouth is too wide for his face, hungry and full of teeth that gleam far too bright. A wolf ready to rip into its prey.

Some deep, primal part of you waits for him to do just that, to sink those too-sharp teeth into your skin and shred you apart. Instead, he only inclines his head toward you, a mocking sketch of civility. 

“Ladies first.” 

You fumble around your words, searching for something — anything — to say, but there is only cotton in your mouth. Worse, the longer your paralysis persists, the more you’re forced to study him, even though everything about him — from his pale hair to his unusual eyes — sets your teeth on edge. 

A too-red tongue flicks out to wet his lips, and the sweat gathering at your temple freezes. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, or maybe your nerves have you searching for shadows that may or may not exist, but you swear there’s something on his tongue. A tattoo of sorts, perhaps. 

Whatever it is – light tricks or you own over-imaginative mind – it’s nothing you need to look harder into. If anything, your friendship with Sanemi has taught you there’s no safety measure more important than minding your business. And, it’s getting late. You need to get home, before it gets dark.

Sanemi hates when you walk alone in the dark. 

“Sorry again,” you manage with a squeak. You try and push by him once more, doing everything in your power not to brush up against him, when a hand grabs at your forearm.

If your heart could somehow unstick itself from your throat, you might have been brave enough to demand to know what his problem is; but it won’t, so you aren’t.  

All you can do is stare into those soulless eyes.

“Pretty girls shouldn’t rush,” he chastises with a saccharine smile, and his fingers squeeze your arms. His skin is cold and clammy.  

At last, you find your voice and you imbue it with all the steel you can muster. “My boyfriend is waiting.”  

The lie rolls easily off your tongue and gives you enough courage to wrench your arm free. The man lets you go, easily, that too-sweet smile never once faltering as you hastily push through the diner’s exit.

The air outside opens up, yet still, you find it difficult to breathe. Every one of your senses is on high-alert, trained toward the door at your back and the unshakeable feeling of eyes watching you as you hurriedly cross the street. 

You don’t dare look back.

Iron pumps hot in your legs as you half-walk, half-jog toward home. You still feel him watching you even as you reach your street, and you won’t dare to let him see where you live in the event your paranoia proves correct. 

You walk around the block — twice — and feint down a side alley, not caring for the food steadily growing colder in your bag. Only when you confirm the man is no where in sight, only when you’re certain you can’t feel eyes bearing into your back any longer do you finally loop back around to your building.

The deadbolt on your door is a comfort you’d never thought to appreciate until now, and you hurry to slide it into place the moment you step inside your apartment. Door locked, you slump back against the lacquered wood and sink to the ground, your heart thumping uncomfortably in your chest as you work to steady your ragged breath. 

For once, Sanemi’s paranoia doesn’t feel like a burden.

—

All your life, you’ve known that anxiety is an ailment best cured by food. Twenty minutes later, you sit at your kitchen table and eat your takeout in silence, save the odd squeak of your fork scraping against the plastic bottom of the container, the encounter at the diner, forgotten.

Instead, you’re left to chew on bits of scrambled egg and your own loneliness. You’ve never had a roommate — never wanted one, for that matter. Your apartment has always been your space, a place where you could go and just be, without a thought or care in the world. Your perfect sanctuary where you could fill the emptiness of your life with books, the lovely stories so delicately crafted by those perhaps as lonely as you. 

Overpriced and temperamental as your apartment could be, it’s still home. 

And yet, somehow, home feels emptier than you remember, despite the fact you’ve always lived here alone. 

Normally, you’d turn on the TV or listen to something in order to distract from the utter stillness in your apartment, but tonight, you can’t even bring yourself to do that. Not when the repetitive cycle of commercials and the same four reruns airing seemed only to amplify the monotony of your solitude.

So, you continue to eat in silence.

Later, after you’ve shoved your empty takeout containers to the side, you sit at your kitchen table and fiddle with your phone. 

It’s been a few days since you’ve bothered to look at it. It has remained on Do Not Disturb, shoved to the bottom of your bag, with you too unwilling to look at the hateful little reminder that without Sanemi to talk to, you are utterly and completely alone. 

You have few contacts saved, so finding Sanemi’s name takes little time – but not before you scroll past the entry marked simply, “Mom.”

You don’t even want to know how long it’s been since you last talked to her – or your dad, for that matter. Somehow, you doubt your phone has kept any record of those few and far between calls. They barely ever lasted long enough to make a dent on your phone bill, anyway. 

Oh, Mama, you think bitterly. What would you make of me, now? 

Knowing her daughter had fallen helplessly in love with a season criminal might very well do her in. She’d have a conniption, at the very least, especially if she learned of Sanemi’s reputation among women. There’d be no chance to deny what you’d let him do – what you’d asked him for, and it wouldn’t matter that you loved him any more than it would that he’d rescued her other child, once upon a time. 

Though, you suppose you’re getting ahead of yourself. All of your spite rests on the presumption that she remembered to care.

She doesn’t, so it doesn’t really matter. 

You snort. Maybe you should mention it to your parents somehow, even if through a lie. Perhaps in your next Christmas card; a cheerful, Merry Christmas! I’m dating a known gang-banger – talk next year!

God, their faces when they realized you were nothing more than some felon’s whore. You’d be written off faster than the ink on the card could dry. That alone might be worth it, if only to not have to continue playing this tedious game of pretend.

But, if Sanemi never speaks to you again, you’d rather not have all your bridges burned. At least the annual check-in with them confirmed you were alive – if those ended, you’d truly have no one. 

So, you scroll on, finding the object of all your ire – and heartache – and tap on its entry.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard as the cursor in the blank text box blinks at you, Sanemi’s name just above it. 

Hey. You type before deleting it with a wince. 

That book you’ve been waiting on just arrived. I’ll leave it on the restock shelf for you. 

No, no, that won’t work either. You don’t want him to think you plan on ignoring what happened, and neither do you want to give him the out. You two will have to talk about it eventually, even if it’s to establish it can never happen again. 

The thought of losing him makes your heart crack, the fissure spreading across your chest until you’re not sure whether you can keep yourself together. 

If you’re cutting this off, I at least deserve to know. 

Your thumb hovers over the arrow to send, your cursor blinking expectantly at you. 

You don’t want to be hateful any more than you want to appear insecure. After all, Sanemi said you’d hear from him, and it’s only been a week. He’d promised you would hear from him. 

 He’d promised. 

With a frustrated grunt, you hurl your phone at your couch, anger melting into numbness as you watch it slide between the cushions and out of sight. You do not retrieve it; instead you throw your takeout into the garbage with more force than necessary and strip yourself down to your underwear. 

Summer has arrived fast and hot, and you know that the ancient air conditioning unit groaning and guttering in your window is due to short out on you any day now, as it does every year. Already the air in your apartment had become sticky and warm; it’s only a matter of time before sleeping became downright unbearable. 

Though no one is around to hear, you snort. Figures that Sanemi’s sudden disappearance from your life coincides with your yearly descent into renter’s hell. If the universe has decided to you need to be dragged through shit, it’s doing a thorough job of it.

As if on cue, a familiar pang of pain shoots through your lower stomach. You glance at the date on your phone, and groan. Great. The last row of this month’s birth control card should’ve been your warning. Your  already shitty mood is about to get even worse. 

Your new prescription is already in your drawer, and you half-contemplate skipping the half-row of sugar pills, but you hold off. You’d already suffered a stern lecture from your doctor for doing that in the past, and you know it’s not good for you. No matter how great the temptation to spare yourself from debilitating cramps, you’ll just have to suffer through it. 

Besides, this period probably isn’t the one to try and skip, anyways. Not after the events of that night. You’re better off making sure you’re getting your money’s worth out of birth control that, admittedly, costs more than you reasonably can afford. If nothing else, it’s worth it to avoid having to eat crow and admit you should’ve taken Sanemi up on his offer to get you the morning-after pill.

You tie your hair back as best you can, grateful to get it off your sweat-dampened neck and glance toward your couch. Perhaps you’ll muster up the courage to text him tomorrow, but for tonight, you’ll remain a coward. So, you leave your phone there, straddled somewhere between the cushions, and switch off your kitchen light before burying yourself in bed, the ache blooming in your lower belly matching the one in your heart.

—--

The first ray of morning light streaking through the cracks in the cardboard stuffed in his window is nearly blinding, but Sanemi is already awake. He has been for a few hours now, unable to find much peace in a night filled with distant sirens and plagued by thoughts of you. 

God, he feels like shit. It’d been after midnight by the time he’d cruised back through city limits, and it was nearly two before he returned to his apartment, Sanemi having gone out of the way to drop off Rengoku’s car so he wouldn’t have to deal with it come sunrise. 

Despite the emotional taxation of his visit with Genya, however, Sanemi had been hard-pressed to find sleep. Now that the sun’s up, though, he can’t avoid facing it any longer. His phone has been blissfully quiet all morning, and he has to take advantage of that silence while he can.

Today is the day, he decides between splashes of tepid tap water against his face once he forces himself out of bed and into his bathroom to wash up. 

Today is the day he muscles up the courage to talk to you. 

Not like he’s really got much of an excuse to put this off longer than he already has. Genya had told him as much. 

The bristles of his toothbrush flatten against his teeth under the force of Sanemi’s brushing, toothpaste foaming in the corners of his mouth. Embarrassing. So fucking embarrassing. His teenage shithead of a brother — who couldn’t even talk to girls, let alone date one — had been able to see the obvious answer to the very predicament Sanemi had spent the better part of a week running around like a headless chicken.

Then again, nothing in Sanemi’s life has even been simple, so it figures he’d try and complicate something as straightforward as this. You.

A hearty spit into the sink later and Sanemi wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand. 

He supposes it was inevitable; he can’t avoid you forever, and he owes you some sort of explanation, an in-person one, at that. No matter how new this is to him, he at least knows you deserve more than a measly text or phone call. 

The bones of the Silo give way to the rusted shipyard marking its outer limits, the landscape whizzing by in a blur of rust and decay as Sanemi speeds past. Though the wind tears and whips at his cheeks, it hardly offers much in the way of relief from the heat of the sun bearing down on him from high above. 

Sweat rolls down his back as Sanemi guns through the city’s East Wing, opting to zip down back roads instead of dealing with the traffic on the main streets. It feels strange, to be speeding towards a decision that will fundamentally alter everything in his life, when everything right now feels the same as it did a year ago. Here he is, gunning down the same path to the bookstore he’d taken then — down an alley, out of sight from laying eyes. Summer in the City carries the same, weighted heat from year to year, and this one is no exception: oppressively hot, the air soupy and thick with humidity. 

And Sanemi is still as hopelessly shackled to the Corps as he was then – as he’s always been.

The brand between his shoulders itches.

Still, he supposes he can count his lucky stars that he’s not on the run from the cops as he’d been last summer – at least, not currently. And he takes comfort in knowing that he won’t find himself being pushed and shoved under your store counter, your lip curling in disdain even as you made good on a decade-old favor.

At least, he hopes that’s the case.

In all honesty, Sanemi knows he may very well find himself on the receiving end of that cold, unforgiving stare just as he had last summer. Only this time, the daggers you shoot his way might actually shred his heart to bits.

You have to be pissed at him. You’d be stupid not to be, and while your unfathomable affection for him suggests otherwise, you are smarter than he is – infinitely so. He’s ghosted you for more than a week, and you can’t possibly think you have to accept that kind of idiocy on his part, no matter his excuses. That means this talk has to be about damage control – however much of it you’ll allow. 

He should start with an apology, that much is obvious. And he’ll follow it up with something he never deigned to give anyone who didn’t have the name of the Corps’ boss family attached to them: an explanation.

Though, he notes with a grimace, an explanation supposed you’d give him long enough to make it through his apology without lobbing a well-aimed book at his head. Given your responses to his bullshit in the past, assault and battery are very real possibilities.

The closer he draws to your bookstore, and the gnawing pit in his stomach grows wider. If you’re angry, then he’ll let you be. You can curse him all you want, throw as many book-bound projectiles at his head as you’d like, as long as you’ll hear him out.

There is another possibility, however. One that he can only label as a worst-case scenario, one that he hasn’t dared let himself consider even though he knows it’s a very real — and very understandable — outcome. The one where you have no reaction at all, only utter indifference to him and his absence. After all, you’d only asked one thing from him, and he gave it to you. Even if you’d told him you loved him, you hadn’t asked him to love you back. 

Maybe you’d said it knowing he was a lost cause, and now that you’ve gotten what you wanted — the loss of your virginity and the weight of your confession off your shoulders — you could move on from him, even if that meant taking the misshapen lump of his heart with you as you left him behind.

Deep down, as devastating as that outcome would be for him, indifference is the best option for you. You’re better off without him; he knows this. So, he’ll pick up the pieces of himself and he’ll figure out how to glue them back together on his own.

Mind spiraling, Sanemi turns onto the street leading to you, a nauseous mixture of dread and anxiety churning in his gut. 

About two doors down from the bookstore sits a coin laundromat and a repair shop. It’s here that Sanemi’s bike gutters to a stop, his eyes sweeping the streets for any out-of-place faces, anyone who might seem too interested in his movements.

All is quiet.

He stashes his bike in the gap between the two buildings. Normally, he’d pull into the alley behind the bookstore and come in through the back exit, but he doubts you’ve left the door unlocked for him. Not when he’s dropping by unannounced. He can’t imagine you’d take kindly to him pounding on the emergency exit, and the fewer opportunities he has to piss you off, the better. He’ll have to use the front door.

Kickstand in place and key tucked safely in his pocket, Sanemi shuffles along the sidewalk. Anxiety twists his stomach into knots, and it takes effort to force himself to breathe normally. But when he reaches the shop’s entryway, Sanemi stops cold. 

The store is dark; there are no lights on inside, and even the way the door sits shut seems uncharacteristically cold.

He frowns. Perhaps you’re in the back, dealing with some delivery issue. Sanemi reaches for the door’s knob, ready to call out your name —

It’s locked.

Sanemi’s heart begins thudding uncomfortably in chest. The store is never closed. In the year he has known you, you are at the bookstore seven days a week, except for Christmas. But it’s midsummer; the store should not be closed. The lights shouldn’t be off, it shouldn’t be empty.

You should not be missing from behind the clerk’s counter.

Some semblance of sanity remains and encourages him to hurry around to the back alley, where he knows you accept deliveries. But the alley is as dark and as barren as the inside of your store, and the emergency exit is locked tight.

No store. No you. No sign indicating that you might have stepped away for a moment, or detailing some issue with the store and apologizing for any inconveniences to your customers. No explanation. 

Sanemi’s hands are dialing your number before his mind can fully process the action.

“Answer your fucking phone.” His voice trembles as the phone rings and rings. “Now.”

It goes to voicemail.

He tries again. Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

Voicemail.

Voicemail.

His body breaks into a run even before his mind can fully piece together the action, his bike forgotten. Riding it would require a coordination Sanemi doesn’t have anyway, not while his thumb is busy jamming repeatedly at the call function on his phone, as Sanemi sprints for your studio. 

The line rings and rings but his desperation goes unanswered. And each time he hears the automated machine instruct him to leave a message, Sanemi grows more frantic. The burn in his legs barely registers; he is consumed only by the need to move faster, to close the distance between him and your apartment as quickly as possible.

Answer your phone. He wills you, pressing the green phone icon yet another time, and then another. Answer your phone. Answer your goddamn phone.

You never do.

He makes it to your place in record time, his fist hammering on your door. His panicked call of your name echoes around the empty halls outside your apartment.

You don’t answer.

Sanemi does not relent; one hand finds your name on his phone while the other continues pounding away at your door. He brings his phone to his ear and listens for the sound of your voice.

It does not come — but your ringtone does. Faint; muffled from its place inside your apartment, but unmistakable.

The sweat on the back of his neck turns to ice.

Sanemi’s breath comes hard out of his mouth in short, panicked gasps. Of all your eccentricities, Sanemi knows there are exactly two things you’re never without: lip balm and your phone.

His chest constricts. Your phone ringing inside means only one of two possibilities. Either you are in your apartment, hurt or captive, or you’ve been taken.

Swearing viciously, he jerks against the locked knob of your apartment door, a frustrated growl tearing deep from his throat. He spins away, a frantic hand raking through his hair, before he turns back.

Eyes wild, he considers your door.

It really is a flimsy piece of wood. Even if your deadbolt was somehow latched, Sanemi wagers he could kick it in fairly easily.

Whatever has happened to you, it’s his fault. Whether someone had figured out who and what you were to him, or whether it was because you simply lived in a shitty part of town and he hadn’t taken enough steps to ensure your safety, your blood is on his hands. That means it’s his responsibility to fix it — even if he has to tear this rotting city apart, brick by crumbling brick.

He backs away with a crazed expression. Fuck what your neighbors might think. Fuck what you might think, he thinks, getting into the stance he needs to rip your doors from its hinges. He’ll fix your door after he finds you and makes sure you’re safe. After he takes care of whoever dared to lay a hand on you, his you —

Just as Sanemi is readying his leg, he hears the distinct rattle of a chain unlatching, and then the door swings open.

Shocked eyes, blissfully familiar, blink at him, standing posed to kick in your door just as he stares back.

Sanemi doesn’t think; his hand seizes tightly around your wrist and he yanks you into the hallway, slamming your door shut with the other hand.

“What the fu —?” You start but you’re cut off with a muted oomph! as Sanemi whirls you behind him. An indignant half screech squeaks out of you as Sanemi kicks your door open, one arm keeping you at his back.

His other hand has his gun drawn and cocked.

Your eyes bulge. “Sanemi, what —?”

“Who else is here?” His voice has a deadly sort of authority you’ve never heard, and it makes a lump of cold fear lodge in your throat. “How many?”

He flashes a quick look at you over his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

“What are you talking about?” you snap, following closely behind and pounding at his back as Sanemi systematically makes his way through your apartment, gun pointed and ready. But your flailing fists do little to stop him. “What are you doing, you psychopath?”

He doesn’t answer; not until he clears your kitchen, that deadly hunk of metal still braced before him.

“The store was closed.” He says shortly, eyes scanning the shadows. “You weren’t answering your phone. I called and called and you didn’t answer —“

“I’m on my period!” You burst, hands dragging down your heated cheeks. “I’ve been here dying from cramps, you idiot!”

The hand holding the gun drops limply to his side, as Sanemi turns to blink dumbly at you.

“I told you, you imbecile, that my periods suck!” Your face feels hot and your voice has taken on a distinct squeakiness in the wake of your mortification. “I have pain meds to manage my symptoms, so I’ve been in and out of sleep all fucking day! I wasn’t answering my phone because I didn’t feel well enough to answer it, you — you —“ Your eyes screw up as you wrack your brain for something that can express the depths of his idiocy. “You — stupid!”

Your lackluster insult is enough to break Sanemi’s blank stupefaction. “I didn’t know.” He finally offers after a long moment, a hint of pink rising in his cheeks.

“So, your first instinct was to do what — act like a goddamned maniac?” You demand as Sanemi hastily puts the safety back on his gun and tucks it into the waistband of his pants. “You don’t speak to me for more than a week, but you think it’s a good idea to come beat my door down? Because I don’t answer a few texts?”

“Not a few texts,” Sanemi spits back. “I called and messaged over and over -- I was worried —“

“You were about to kick my door in!”

He squares his shoulders at that. “Yes,” he says hotly. “Yes, I was. Because I was fuckin’ terrified for a moment that something had happened to you. Because of me. Do you know what went through my mind when I heard your phone ringing, after I’ve spent the last half hour trying to get a hold of you? What the fuck else was I supposed to think?”

“That you would decide I was sick or busy or maybe dealing with something and couldn’t respond, like a normal fucking person –”

“You say we’re friends and you still haven’t figured out that there ain’t nothin’ normal about this? About me?”

Something flashes across your face, your eyes tightening at the word friends, but it’s gone before he can blink. Sanemi doesn’t let himself linger on what it means. Nor does he listen to that small voice in his head that coolly whispers that he knows damn well you two are more than friends, no matter how deeply he tries to bury his head in the sand.

You open your mouth, ready to unleash of slew of insults or perhaps give him the good verbal lashing he knows he deserves, when you double over with a wince.

“Oh, fuck me.” You groan, pressing a hand to your abdomen. You wave him off, dismissive. “I’m going back to bed. You know I’m not dead, so do whatever you want. You know where the door is.”

With that, you shuffle miserably back to your bed, hunched over in on yourself, your arms wrapped firmly around you middle. Sanemi watches, bemused, as you crumple into your mattress in a resigned heap, your knees drawn nearly to your chest.

He stares hard at your bed, nostrils flaring as he works to calm his breathing. Safe. You’re safe, nothing is wrong, you’re okay. He repeats this, again and again, a mantra that slowly eases the tension in his shoulders, soothes the violent fury in his veins. 

A groan of frustration sounds from beneath your blankets and pillows, slightly muffled. “Well? What do you want?” 

He considers you for another moment before he rocks back on his heels, clicking his tongue.

Fuck it. Fuck the Corps, fuck the rules, fuck it all.

“Where’re your keys?”

“Huh?” You lift your head just in time to see him start rooting through your bag where you’d left it looped it over the back of your kitchen chair.

Sanemi pulls out the woven keychain you used to attach a cluster of mismatched keys – ones to the store, the register, and most importantly, your front door. He tosses them in the air, triumphant, before snatching them up tight, pocketing them without so much as a look back at you.

“Later.”

Silence, and then, “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me —“

He’s out the door before you finish your indignant sputtering.

—-

If any doubts lingered as to what exactly Sanemi’s decision was when it came to you, he’s fairly sure they’re resolved here, in the pharmacy’s period care aisle. Because, really, what else can he call this – him, standing before shelves lined with an array of boxes and tampons and pads, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s supposed to get – if not a commitment to you? 

A clear choice as any, he supposes. It’s you, or it’s nothing – no one – else. Whatever it is the two of you are though, is another matter. 

Rule Three: don’t get attached. 

Admittedly, that rule went right out the fucking window the moment he decided to pursue some sort of friendship with you, all those months ago. Even if it somehow survived the fall, he’d funcationally ran it over, again and again until nothing remained, the second he put his dick in you. 

Whatever the label, he supposes he at least has to pretend to give some semblance of a shit about Corps’ rules, if nothing more than because of his title within it. Plus, that caution probably serves to protect you as much as it does the Corps. And that means he can’t outwardly call you his girlfriend anymore than he can openly date you. 

He grimaces at the thought as he peruses the snack aisle, tossing a random assortment of your favorites into his basket alongside the variety box of tampons he’d settled on. Leave it to him to mull over shit like what to call you, now, when he’s got far bigger fish to fry. Never mind that for all the ways he’s decided he wants you to be his, he doesn’t yet know whether you want him. 

He did ditch you for over a week. Eleven days, to be exact. 

Oh, well. If somehow you don’t throw him out on his ass, then it doesn’t really matter what he calls you. It’s not like he’s particularly attached to labels, anyway. Not when girlfriend is far too casual a way to describe what Sanemi feels for you. 

He tries ignoring the pang of want in his heart as the word boyfriend flits through his mind. While he can’t call you his girlfriend to anyone within city limits, you don’t wear the same shackles that he does. You’re not bound by the same code. And damn, what he wouldn’t do to have you call him your boyfriend; to finally belong to something – someone – other than the Corps. It’s the sort of brand he’s gone his entire life craving even if he didn’t quite know it. One he’d wear proudly on his heart, even if no one else would ever see it. 

Finally, he reaches the front of the checkout line and tosses the contents of his basket onto the counter. Though, if you do decide you want his sorry ass, you’ll have to be careful enough to not link boyfriend to his name. While Sanemi may not give a shit about his own safety, yours is his priority. He won’t let you put his target on your back. 

Whatever labels do or do not await him, nothing changes the fact he cannot be a normal – whatever – to you. The only way you stay safe is if Sanemi lets his paranoia dictate the lines of your relationship, and even then, he can’t guarantee it’ll ever be enough. 

He pays for your stuff, gathering the bags in one hand while he rummages his pockets with the other until he finds your keys. So many uncertainties remain, far more than what makes him comfortable. Yet, in spite of it all, the bubbling, hot panic he’d felt sprinting to your apartment has given way to an unfamiliar lightness. One that makes him feel like he’s floating even as he stops at a small kiosk near the pharmacy’s exit and feeds your apartment key into the machine. 

Yeah, he’s fucking attached to you even though he knows better. But if you accept the metal the kiosk spits back out after a moment of whirring, it’ll be worth it. 

—-

Less than an hour after his dramatic exit, Sanemi slips back into your apartment. The plastic handles of his shopping bags looped unceremoniously around his wrists dig uncomfortably into his skin, and he dumps his bounty on the floor just inside your entryway. 

A soft thump against the wall to his right snaps his head up. 

Years of training to dodge fists, projectiles, bullets, enable Sanemi to duck right before one of your ridiculous little throw pillows smacks into his head.

Across the floor of your small apartment, Sanemi spies you sitting perched at the end of your bed, eyes wild and hair a mess, another pillow cocked in your hand, ready to be launched his way. 

Bewildered, Sanemi demands, “The fuck is your problem?” 

“You!” The fluffy cushion sails through the air, but Sanemi knocks it easily aside. His casual avoidance of your targeted rage only serves to infuriate you more, and he watches, with some amusement, as you whip your head from side to side, searching for something else to chuck at him. 

Finding nothing, you jab a finger toward the door. “Get out!” 

“Nah,” he folds his arms across his chest and levels your fury with a cool stare of his own. “Don’t feel like it, and I know you don’t want me to go, either.”

Your right eye twitches and Sanemi smirks. If you really wanted him gone, you would’ve fought harder when he took your keys. Probably would’ve chased him out the door, hurling all kinds of venom his way. If nothing else, you would’ve blown his phone up, calling him every name in the book, leveling every threat you could concoct.

You’ve forgotten, it seems, that he’s spent the past year learning you; being your friend. He’s far too used to your stubbornness; he knows when you’re full of shit. 

“You’re impossible.” And with a huff, you turn your back to him and throw yourself back down on your mattress, yanking your blankets up to your chin. 

He stomps over to your side of the bed and glowers down at your back, put stubbornly to him. 

Fine. You wanna play this way? Sanemi can deal in pettiness, too.

An edge of your blanket peeks out near your feet, a small sliver you hadn’t managed to tuck into place. A mistake, on your end, given that it only takes Sanemi hooking his fingers under it to rip the blanket clean off you.

He tries not to linger on the whiff of your scent that slaps him in his face. An intoxicating mixture of your perfume and shampoo that socks him in the gut. 

While the loss of the blanket’s security forces you to curl in tighter on yourself, you offer no reaction. Not even a spiteful little glare over your shoulder, or some half-hearted insult, and for some reason, that pisses him off even more.

“You’re not ignorin’ me,” he growls, balling the quilt in his hands.  “I can be a bigger pain in the ass than this.”

Still nothing. 

After a moment, Sanemi’s irritation finally boils over. “Can I just fuckin’ hold you, please?” 

You flip over to gape up at him, returning his pinched glare with outrage of your own. If Sanemi’s silence since that night was a bruise to your ego, the earnestness belying the arrogant annoyance in his eyes is a finger jabbing mercilessly at it. 

Because he actually means it.

Part of you wants to laugh at the absurdity of his request, and another part wants to launch every obscenity you can dream of right at his stupidly handsome face. 

You go for the in-between. “No!” Your voice is shrill. “No, you can’t hold me. You ghost me for almost two weeks, nearly break my door in half, steal my keys and fuck off for over an hour, and you think you get to hold me?” You throw your hands up over your head in exasperation before dragging them down your face, exasperated. “Are you stupid?”

Never mind that’s exactly what you want to happen — it’s all you’ve wanted, actually. But Sanemi’s idiocy has to cost him something, and despite the way your stomach dipped in excitement when you heard him sliding your keys into the door’s lock, he owes you an explanation. And until you get one, he can keep on sitting at the very top of your shit list, all by his lonesome.

Some of the hardness in his eyes softens as your words hit their mark. In its place emerged a shadow of disappointment, one that has you reconsidering your previous stance, your hands itching to reach for him.

Gently, Sanemi tosses your bunched up blanket to the foot of your bed. “Fine.” He gestures vaguely behind him. “But I’m still gonna put all this shit away, and then you and me are gonna talk.” 

That makes you sit up. “What shit?” 

Sanemi doesn’t bother dignifying you with an answer; doesn’t so much as spare you a glance as he stalks back toward your door. He totes the plastic shopping bags to your shabby kitchen table as you trail behind him, your curiosity outweighing your desire to remain rotting in bed. 

“Wait,” you frown, reaching for his arm. You try and still him as he unloads aspirin followed by a fresh box of tampons. “Sanemi —“

“Just shut up and let me take care of you.” He pulls a frozen pizza out of the shopping bag and glances at you. “Did you eat?”

You hesitate but then you slowly shake your head.

He snorts, depositing the box on your counter. Figures.

Bemused, you watch as he lugs the rest of his bounty into your kitchen and sets to work organizing his purchases. It’s a strange sight. Sanemi bustles around as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He navigates your cabinets with a confidence that only comes from familiarity, his movements more akin to something like muscle memory. 

His comfortability makes sense, given how much time he’s spent here over the last year. Still, you never imagined a hardened criminal could look so…domestic.

What doesn’t make sense, however, is why. From the moment he’d thundered into your apartment in a murderous rage to his abrupt exit with your keys and sudden reappearance with groceries, Sanemi’s erratic actions have you in a tailspin you can’t begin to find your way out of. Because none of it makes sense.

Too much; this is all too much. 

“Stop, stop, stop!” Your hand snatches around his forearm, stilling him. Annoyed, Sanemi huffs down at you only to be met with your own frosty glare. 

You cut your eyes to the spread of snacks and period products atop your kitchen counter. “What is all this, Sanemi? I mean,” you gesture helplessly between him and the bags. “What are you doing?” 

Sanemi grabs the frozen pizza box and turns it over, eyes skimming the instructions. “Taking care of you.” He monotones, like it’s supposed to be obvious. Like him sifting through a bag full of snacks — all your favorites, you note — was normal, part of some unspoken ritual.

You know better; because the sidelong look he casts you is one of remorse; guilt. 

He’s stalling. And it’s precisely because of his own hesitancy that you can’t be the first one to give in; to open the very obvious can of worms that sits between you. 

You will not make his decisions for him; you won’t shoulder the burden of any blame should this go tits up.

“Why are you here, Sanemi?” 

He busies himself with your oven’s settings, fiddling with the knobs until it clicks on, preheating. Wordlessly, Sanemi slides the pizza into the oven and sets the timer.

“Sanemi.” You press.

Instantly, the rest of his arrogance deflates. He turns back to you, shoulders heavy, slumped forward with something like shame. 

“‘M sorry, I just…” he trails off with a helpless shrug. He drops his head, staring hard at the cracked linoleum of your floor.

You shift, settling in against the empty doorway to your kitchen, arms folded across your chest. After another moment, he raises his head, and takes a tentative step forward.

“For months, I haven’t been able to think about a damn thing but you.” Sanemi begins, his expression uncharacteristically grave. “Can’t sleep, can’t eat, can barely fuckin’ breathe without thinking about you. Without thinking of how fucking badly I want you.”

A tired hand runs through his hair. “Haven’t even been with anyone else in months. Not when all I can think about  is you.” He snorts, though it’s without humor. “Started picturin’ you when I was with the others and everything. Nearly called out your name with one of ‘em one night, and knew I couldn’t do it anymore.”

That little revelation nearly knocks the wind right out of you. Since your friendship with him began, you’ve kept your ears steadily tuned toward any mention of Sanemi’s name. Part of you rationalized it was out of concern for his wellbeing, but in truth, you’d been nosy.

Not once had there been a whisper of the infamous Sanemi Shinazugawa settling down, of him slowing his antics. 

Then again, the moment you’d begun catching the details of his wild reputation among the women of the Silo, you’d tuned out all the noise, too embarrassed to admit your own interest.

“I was selfish, kissin’ you.” Sanemi’s hoarse voice calls you back. “Swore it was only gonna happen once, and couldn’t even keep that promise. And then, what we did that night — that only made it worse. D’you know why?” 

He chances another step toward you and the air between you thickens. Suddenly, there’s little space left between your bodies, and you’re all too aware of the heat rolling off his body, drawing you in, a moth to a flame. 

A hand reaches for you, his fingers nearly grazing your hair, but his arm drops back limply to his side. “‘Cuz I shouldn’t have been able to have you. Not like that. But I did, and —“ he swallows, hard. “I knew I wanted more before I slept with you. Knew that if I ever crossed that line, I wasn’t coming back from it. Couldn’t.”

Your lips part. “Sanemi —“

“I can’t be your friend, Y/N.” Sanemi says heavily. “I just can’t. I knew that way back when I first started comin’ around, but I wanted to try. But I sure as hell can’t be your friend, now."

A crack splinters across your chest, and by the way Sanemi’s eyes tighten, you wonder if he heard it; the sound of your heart breaking.

It was only ever going to end this way. You should’ve known — a part of you did know. But that hadn’t stopped you from trying, from loving him, anyways. 

You open your mouth, ready to voice your resigned acceptance; to cut him loose, save yourself the devastation of any further explanation, when Sanemi shifts. 

With a gulp, he shoves a hand into his pocket, rummaging. Whatever it is he searches for, he finds and holds out his closed fist before letting it drop.

A glint of light bounces off the object dangling from his fingers and from your periphery, you can tell it’s metal. Frowning, you tilt your head, inspecting.

Your heart gutters to a halt as its shape takes form.

A key. A single silver key, plain and unassuming, yet somehow, the entirety of your future rests somewhere between the neat little grooves you know perfectly match the hardware of the lock on your door.  

“I had it made while I was out.” Sanemi’s confession is breathless, and he swallows hard before adding, “If you don’t want me to have it, then take it. It’s yours.”

For a long moment, you say nothing; you only stare at the key hanging in the air. Half a heartbeat ago, you’d believed this — whatever it was — with Sanemi was over. That whatever brightness he’d brought to your dreary little life had faded, and he’d leave you behind, just like everyone else you’d dared to love. 

“If I tell you to keep it,” you start carefully, gaze trained so pointedly on the key dangling from his fingers that you don’t notice the way his eyes round. “Then what does that mean for us?” 

He needs to say it. After a week of nothing from him, he at least owes you this. A label. 

His throat bobs. A beat passes, and then, “It means I’m all yours. Only yours.” 

Not good enough. “My what?” 

Sanemi’s fingers tense in faint agitation and your eyes cut to his. 

“Yours,” he insists again, more hotly. “Your boyfriend, your partner, your whatever-the-fuck-it-is that you call someone who’s all in and wants to be with you, and only you.”

Air hardens in your throat, forms a lump you don’t know how to swallow around. 

He says it so simply, as though it’s obvious; like he hadn’t avoided you without a damn word for more than a week, leaving you to fight against insecurity you hadn’t known to have, before him. 

I love you, Sanemi.

He hadn’t said it back, then. Initially, you thought it was because he didn’t feel the same. Sure, he cared for you, that much was obvious, but perhaps that consideration didn’t rise to the level of devotion you held for him. You were okay with that; you hadn’t said it out of expectation, anyways. You’d only wanted him to know your heart, to know that as long as it was beating, it would be his. 

Now, this key is his answer to your admission that night. And while it may not be the three words part of you longs to hear, it’s just as much as a confession on his part. 

You could kick him out; tell him no, tell him that he, under no uncertain terms, could fuck right off after leaving you on silent for more than a week. You could. 

You don’t. 

Because, he came back. Maybe in a whirlwind of murderous, seething violence, but Sanemi came back. No ulterior motives, no conditions; he came back for you and you alone. 

He saw you and all your monotony, all your inexperience, and he came back anyway.

He was the only one who ever had. 

Quietly trembling fingers latch around his wrist and for a moment, Sanemi thinks you’re going to take it from him. All at once, the earth crumbles and faces beneath him, plummeting him right into the hell he knew he was venturing into the moment you looked him in the eyes and asked him to do the impossible. 

A buzz settles in his ears and Sanemi braces for the rejection he should’ve known was to come. He’d screamed it at himself that night, his head warning his stupid heart that this was precisely the only way this could go. You’d gotten your fill of him, loved him even, but this — he — is too much. He should’ve known better, he did know —

Your fingers close his fist around the key and squeeze it tight. Wide-eyed and breathless, Sanemi finds that for once, he does not resent the way the metal presses into his skin. 

“Keep it.” Your hands are warm where they embrace his. “I’m yours.”

It takes him a moment to remember how to speak; to realize the static in his head has quieted. His world comes back together just as quickly as it fell apart, its pieces realigning with you at its center.

Relief, he thinks, has never felt so fucking sweet. “Thank fuck.” 

The key clatters to the floor but no one pays it any mind; Sanemi is too busy surging forward, his hands planted firmly on your cheeks as his mouth crashes eagerly — desperately — into yours. 

The kiss is little more than a frantic clash of lips and teeth, but everything about it is so fucking right that neither of you can be bothered to care. 

You fling an arm around his neck, anchoring yourself to him as Sanemi’s enthusiasm threatens to send you stumbling back. Some small, distant voice hisses that you should’ve made him work for it a little longer, should’ve made him grovel for forgiveness. But then his hands are dragging down your front, and he’s pulling you into him by your hips with a possessive grunt and suddenly, you can’t remember why any of it matters.

Neither of you are aware that you’re moving, not until your back bumps up against the entryway of your kitchen. Even then, your small gasp of surprise serves as nothing more than the chance for Sanemi’s tongue to sweep into your mouth, branding you with his claim. 

It was always going to end this way — him, pressing you into your kitchen doorframe, his hands shoved under your t-shirt to rest on your bare waist while you pull him closer, your fingers twisting in his hair. Sanemi is a weak man; no matter how his better judgment snipped and snapped at him, all roads led right back here. It was inevitable.

Even if he hadn’t chosen your bookstore to hide in that day, somehow, the universe would’ve found another way to throw him into your life.

Sanemi breaks away with a pant. “Fuck, Y/N,” he moans against your lips. “You don’t know what the fuck you do to me.” 

“Took you long enough,” you chastise between quick pecks. “I was beginning to think your head was perma-lodged up your ass.”

A sound of exasperation accompanies the nip of his teeth at your lip. “God forbid the Princess has to wait on anything.”

You hum into his mouth. “Not anything,” you correct, breaking away from his lips in favor of brushing your nose against his. “You, asshole.”

This time, it’s Sanemi who moans. “Bullyin’ only turns me on, sweetheart. Thought you knew that already.”

“And deflecting doesn’t help your cause. You still have some making up to do.” You scoff, lowering yourself back down to your normal height. Sanemi’s hands linger, cradling your face, and you can’t help but nuzzle into his palm.

“Yeah, well,” Sanemi murmurs, his thumb stroking your cheek. “‘M here now, and I want you. And I’m a fuckin’ idiot for thinking this is a good idea, and so are you for wantin’ me, but that’s where we are. Can’t go back.”

The corner of your mouth twitches up. “You mean, you can’t unfuck me.”

“Nah,” he agrees, though his eyes darken. He takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head toward his. “Wouldn’t wanna take that back, anyways. Not in a million years.”

Not when you��re his. 

This time, when Sanemi recaptures your lips with his, it is slower; more sensual. His tongue slides seamlessly into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

Raw desire, sharp and electric, shoots between your thighs when Sanemi moans again. Despite the neediness of his lips, his touch, Sanemi quickly recovers some of his self-confidence, the excitement of his kiss giving way into something more measured, more fervent that already has you panting for more. 

Oh, he’s far too good at making you melt. 

Large, warm hands skirt down the back of your thighs, gripping you under your legs. You gasp when the floor disappears from beneath you as Sanemi easily carries you deeper into the kitchen.

The pizza baking in the oven goes forgotten as Sanemi sets you on the ledge of your counter, his hands sliding up your sides, bunching the fabric of your shirt between his fingers.

The warmth of his hands makes you gasp and arch into him, and he huffs a quiet laugh against your lips.

“Yeah? You want me to touch you?” He teases, pausing only to trace the tip of your nose with his, before he leans back in. “Tell me where.”

You’d love to, except the greedy asshole’s greedier lips are right back on yours, and you don’t have the willpower to argue. You sigh into him, and Sanemi’s tongue sweeps easily into your mouth, flicking against yours. 

Those damn hands of his manage to sneak beneath your t-shirt again. “Mmm. Here?” He teases when you arch, his thumbs brushing along a sensitive part of your waist that makes you squirm.

He kneads against your ribs. “How ‘bout here?”

Your nails scratch the nape of his neck in warning. “Sanemi —“

Those devilish fingers of his inch higher beneath your shirt until he’s cupping your bare breasts. 

“My bad. Here, right?” He smirks, catching your lower lip between his teeth. 

He palms at your chest until you’re whimpering into his mouth. The tender, swollen ache of your breasts is soothed by Sanemi’s clever touch as he teases you with alternating flicks and pinches. He breaks your kiss to whisper your name, each syllable dripping with a reverence that makes you feel damn near sacred. He murmurs it again and again as his lips trail down your cheek, your jaw, his hands pushing your t-shirt higher and higher —

The oven timer buzzes. 

Your head snaps toward the sound, hands fluttering against his chest in a reluctant effort to push him away, but he pays you no mind. Sanemi’s lips are still teasing under your jaw as he grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turns your head back toward him. 

He silences your building protest with another kiss. “Let it burn,” his teeth nip at your bottom lip. “We’re busy.”

You give into the persuasion of his lips for a moment, too greedy for his kiss. But the beep of the timer seems to grow louder by the second, and you find yourself too distracted by its noise to continue ignoring. 

“‘Nemi,” you murmur between heated kisses. There’s a low vibration in the back of Sanemi’s throat in response, something akin to a growl of approval at the way you shorten his name. His hold on your waist tightens as he pulls you harder into him. “The oven —“

His tongue licks at the roof of your mouth before his lips break away from yours. “Fuck the oven,” he moans before he claims your lips again, his kiss every bit as needy and possessive as touch. 

He can’t fathom stopping now — not when you feel so damn good in his hands, not when he’s so giddy that he gets to keep you all to himself, selfishly.

He feels like a teenager again, feels that same excited flutter in his stomach he used to get from sneaking off with girls between classes to make out, to let hands explore under shirts in the dark corners of abandoned classrooms or under the bleachers, more thrilled by the prospect of being caught than of actually succeeding in getting into one another’s pants. Only now, Sanemi’s got the girl of his dreams moaning with a few clever movements of his fingers as he explores your mouth with his tongue, your hands just as greedy as they roam the planes of his chest and tug at his hair.

He’s about to suggest moving to your bed, eager to continue because he can, you’re actually his --

A loud rumble from deep within your stomach slices between you like a knife. Sanemi’s hands freeze, right atop your bare breasts. 

A beat passes, and then he murmurs against your lips, “when did you last eat?”

Before you can feed him your bullshit, he adds, “a real meal.”

You fiddle with the ends of his hair, wincing. “…Last night?” 

Even if you could protest, could claim that you weren’t all that hungry, your traitorous stomach roars again. You snatch your hands away from him, pressing them to your middle as though you can silence the way your belly gurgles with hunger.

Busted.

“Sorry,” you mutter, too mortified to meet his eyes. “Ignore that, we can keep going –”

“I’m not competing with your stomach. If I’m gonna have you moaning, I want to hear you.” Sanemi kisses the tip of your nose and untangles himself from you, dragging his fingers teasingly along the bare skin of your thighs before he steps back entirely. “’Sides, you need to eat.” 

You rub a hand over your grumbling belly. “It’s not that bad –” 

“You’re an ass when you’re hungry.”

You can’t fight him on that, no matter how your cheeks warm. Sanemi has experienced your hungered wrath far too many times. Still part of you itches to wipe that triumphant smugness right off his face as he dons one of your frilly, thrifted oven mitts and fishes the pizza out of the oven.

—

Once he’s ensured you’ve eaten enough and washed your dishes, Sanemi sets to work on your bed, righting the mess he’d made of your covers. The moment everything is back in its place, even the obnoxious throw pillows you’d hurled at his head, he turns to you, expectant. 

“Well?” He pats your newly remade bed. “Come on. You said you don’t feel well, so get over here and rest.” 

For once, you don’t fight him, nor do you so much as attempt to snark back at him for trying to boss you around. You simply slink back to your bed and flop down without a shred of grace or care. 

Sighing, Sanemi kicks off his shoes and slides in behind you. Admittedly, when he’d played out the number of ways tonight could go in his head, he hadn’t envisioned nursing you against the debilitating side effects of your period as one of those possibilities. 

Still, Sanemi can’t imagine any place he’d rather be. 

His body fits against yours with ease, and the way his arm winds around your waist feels natural; automatic. For so long, he’d been navigating the world, unaware that something was missing; that he was incomplete. Sure, maybe he’d felt off to some extent — like there was a gap somewhere among his parts, one that he never knew quite how to fill. 

But here, in your bed, his body half-draped over yours, his face, tucked into the crook of your neck, Sanemi finally knows what it means to feel whole. It fills him with such giddiness, such joy, he almost can’t quite figure out what to do with it. There’s a lightness in his chest he’s never felt before, a weightlessness to his limbs. He is floating, and there is nothing to bring him back down to earth; no chain, no binds, no obligations. There is only his desire to be here, with you, however you want him. 

Your hands reach back and latch around his wrist, tugging his arm over you. You then slide his hand beneath your shirt, pressing it flat to your lower belly.

Sanemi smiles against the nape of your neck as you sigh in relief. “What’s that about?”

“You’re warm,” you groan, snuggling back against him. “Heat helps cramps.”

He squeezes you close and presses a kiss against your ear. “Use me as much as you need, then.”

Your soft laugh is intoxicating. Finally, some of the tension in your limbs eases and you relax into him, seemingly having found the right position to quell the throbbing ache in your stomach.  Happiness. This must be happiness. Because here, he finally gets to just be Sanemi. Your Sanemi.

——

For a long while, you lay together in comfortable silence. The fading light streaming through the great, arched windows over your heads is his only measure of time, and soon, the lighting of your apartment dims. Now, there is only the soft, yellow glow of your various lamps and strings of fairy lights that coat your studio, creating a cozy cave he never wants to leave. 

Curled behind you as he is, Sanemi can’t quite tell whether you’ve finally succumbed to sleep. Your breathing is slow, and while you haven’t spoken in a while, you could just as easily be basking in the relaxed comfort of his arms, lingering somewhere in between sleep and consciousness.

It’s how he wishes he could be; at ease, half-heartedly fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. But no; Sanemi is wide the fuck awake, his body stiffer than a board.

Despite your tentative relaxedness, you still squirm every so often, 

struggling to find a position that will allow you the most relief from the throbbing ache in your lower stomach.

He doesn’t think you’re doing it intentionally — in fact, he’s almost certain you aren’t. But if you don’t stop grinding your ass against him, Sanemi might just snap.

He’d already had to quietly fight off the pain in his groin after getting hot and heavy with you in the kitchen, before he’d realized he needed to take care of your grumbling stomach at the expense of his blue balls. But here you are now, rotating your perfect ass right into his crotch as he grows harder than a fucking diamond, with no relief from the onslaught of your wiggling in sight.

It just feels cruel.

“Knock it off,” Sanemi finally grumbles into your ear, arms squeezing once around your waist in warning. “You tryin’ to make me cream my pants?”

“It’s not my fault,” you groan miserably. “I can’t get comfortable.”

“Don’t you take meds?”

Another groan. “Already did.”

Sanemi fights the swear building on his tongue. He’s acutely aware that you’re not at fault for the way his traitorous body reacts to your movements, but he finds himself wavering dangerously close to losing mind. Each twisting movement of your ass is barely more than a whisper of the contact he craves and yet somehow, it’s just enough to make his cock throb for more.

It takes a great deal of self-restraint for Sanemi not to grab your hips and grind you back against him properly. But he manages to cling to that fraying thread, almost proud of his astounding commitment to his self-control, when you swivel your ass right against the crotch of his pants, groaning in frustration.

That’s when Sanemi snaps. 

With a disapproving click of his tongue, he flips you to your back and under him. You’re his woman now, after all; that means it’s on him to take care of business. 

“You still got cramps?” He hovers close over you, nose nearly bumping yours.

Wide-eyed and blushing at his proximity, you nod.

“You took your meds already?”

Another nod.

“And they ain’t helping?”

This time, you slowly shake your head.

A smile, a wickedly devious smile, spreads across his lips. “I know what will.”

Sanemi sits back on his knees and grabs a fistful of his shirt. In a single, smooth movement, he yanks it clean over his head. 

“What are you --?” You sit up on your elbows, cheeks heating as your eyes roam the rocky planes of his chest and abdomen. Your mouth waters. “What are you doing?”

Sanemi crawls back over you, shutting you up with another kiss. Before you can break away to repeat yourself, he presses his hips to yours and grinds. 

He’s harder than stone.

Silky lips dance down your chin before sliding to explore your jaw. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“I told you, I’m — oh — on my period!”

“So?”

“So, it’s — it’s — messy!” You stammer, your cheeks turning crimson as Sanemi’s lips continue their heated path down your neck.

He snorts against your collar bone. “You got towels, don’t you?”

The cockiness of his tone stuns you silent. Sanemi huffs in triumph and busies himself with sucking a bruise into your skin, right over your throat.

“Sanemi,” you squirm under his mouth, hands tugging at his hair, though even you don’t know whether you’re trying to command his attention or push him back.

With an annoyed grunt, Sanemi tears his mouth away from your skin to glare at you. “If you want to say no because you’re uncomfortable with it, then we can stop.” And, despite the faint, irritated twist of his mouth, his eyes are sincere. “But if you’re only complaining because you think I’ll mind —“

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you murmur, shyly looking away. “But, Sanemi —“

Your protest is smothered by a warm, firm hand closing over your mouth. Sanemi leans down until his forehead nearly touches yours. “Do you want me to stop?”

You blink up at him. After a moment of hesitation, you slowly shake your head, eyes wide.

“Then shut up.”

His hand slides away from your mouth and skirts down the length of your arm. His fingers close around your wrist and he wraps your arm around his shoulders. 

He leans in to resume attacking your neck with his mouth, descending down your body with heavy, open mouthed kisses. When he reaches your navel, he shifts his hold to your waist and in a single, swift movement, he flips you atop him. 

You gasp into his mouth as you settle against him, his hardening bulge pressing into the apex of your thighs. A deep, gravelly moan vibrates in Sanemi’s throat when you begin pushing your hips down to meet the hardness protruding into you, your movements out of your control. 

For a moment, you remain like that, your body pressed flush to his as you gasp and grind against each other, your kisses little more than a desperate clash of lips and teeth and tongue. Sanemi is the first to break away, his mouth trailing hotly down the column of your throat. 

One arm stretches up the length of your back, his broad hand curling around your shoulder as the arm locked around your waist tightens. His hold on you sufficiently sturdy, Sanemi forces you to grind harder against him, his teeth nipping across your collarbone as you whimper above him. 

The ache between your legs is sharper, more intense than usual; closer to a burning throb than a mere flicker of desire. 

The hand he’d kept on your shoulder slides down your back, his fingers dragging teasingly along your spine until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. He snaps it once, twice, savoring your little jolts each time the elastic bites at your skin, before he pushes below it to grip your bare ass.

Your fingers fly to his hair as he fondles the plush curve of you in his hand, alternating between gentle massages and rough squeezes. Each pleading little mewl that slips past your lips only drives him wilder with need, his cock throbbing where it strains against the seat of his pants. 

He sucks a bruise into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. He will not give in; not yet, not before you beg him for what he’s been itching to give you for the last week. 

With a fierce whine, you circle your own hips, unsuccessfully trying to maneuver his hand away. Your own hand drops from his hair to cup his jaw as you pant against his ear.

He hides his smirk against your collar bone. “You got somewhere you want me to be, Y/N?” He croons, bucking harshly into your clothed center. His fingers dip to the crease between your ass and the top of your thigh, playing dangerously close to where he knows you need him most.

He can feel the heat radiating from you, beckoning him to closer, a beacon meant only for him. “You just gotta ask, Princess. I’m right here, waitin’.” 

“S-Sanemi —“

Without warning, Sanemi sits up, forcing you to scramble to lock your legs around him for support. He scoots to the edge of your bed, his grip on you firm, until his legs drape over its side. With you in his lap, he throws a steadying arm behind him as you sit perched atop his thigh.

“There. Wanted to see you properly.”

He traces the tip of his finger around the tightened bud of your right breast, just over your shirt, eyes bright and crinkled in amusement as you squirm.

It’s not enough; not nearly so.

With a wicked grin, he leans in, resuming his torturously slow exploration of your neck. Your reaction to him is instant, as you grind and squirm atop him, your fingers fisting at his hair. 

But, even he grows tired of this constant teasing. Impatient, he plants one hand at the base of your spine, pressing your body flush against his, while the other slides down your front, his fingers playing with the hem of your top. 

Right now, there’s only one thing – well, two things – he wants, and your damn shirt is getting in his way. 

The moment you shudder against him as his fingers brush the skin below your nazel is the moment he yanks your t-shirt up, revealing your peaked, aching breasts right to his hungry gaze.

He presses its hem to your lips. “Hold this.” 

Your pupils blow wide at the cockiness of his demand. Slowly, you part your lips and allow Sanemi to latch the bottom of your shirt between your teeth.

He gives you only a warning look, a stern narrowing of his eyes that says, don’t even think about dropping it, before he turns his attention back to your chest, pausing to whistle appreciatively at the sight of you, bare before him. 

In addition to being stuck with murderous cramps, one of the other terrible side effects of your period is how damn sore your breasts get. Often, you can hardly stand to wear a bra, the burning ache in your chest damn near unbearable. 

And there his mouth is, so close yet so far. The memory of just how expertly he’d navigated you the last time with his mouth makes your nipples stiffen, adds gasoline to the fire burning hotly in your lower belly. 

With a whimper, you thrust your chest toward him. 

“Oh?” Sanemi raises an eyebrow in mock surprise. Idly, his index finger traces a circle around your right nipple, followed by another. “Sensitive are we?” He smirks. “Looks like you’re achin’ for some attention, sweetheart.” 

His breath fans hotly across one of your stiff nipples, and you swear it throbs as Sanemi exhales against your skin again, teasing.

You could cry. Aching, indeed.

He smirks against your breast. “I can help with that.”

His lips part and Sanemi sucks your breast right into his mouth, groaning between sloppy, wet smacks of his mouth. The ache between your legs intensifies with every suck, every graze of his teeth and flick of his tongue.

“Pretty,” he hums against your nipple, and the vibrations from his mouth make your thighs clench together. He takes the breast not occupied by his mouth into his hand, lavishing it with the same worship as he gives the other, squeezing and rolling it until you’re whimpering over the mouthful of your shirt.

He pulls back, a thin strand of saliva connecting his lips with your nipple that breaks when he speaks. “Prettiest I’ve ever fuckin’ seen, just like the rest of you.”

Sanemi’s mouth is wet and hot as it trails across your sternum, taking your other soft mound into mouth while his hand migrates to the other, his fingers swirling the saliva he’d left behind into your flesh. He pinches your nipple in time with the graze of his teeth over the one sucked between his lips.

It’s too much; the pulsing ache between your legs has grown too riotous, too incessant, and you’re desperate for relief. The muscles of his thigh notched between your legs flex like he knows; baiting you.

You fall for it, hook, line and sinker, just as he wanted, your hips beginning a tentative grind against his leg.

Drool leaks from the corner of your mouth as you find a steady pace, rocking and grinding against him. It soaks the fabric of your shirt as you fight to keep from loosening your jaw. Everything Sanemi is doing feels so fucking good, and you’ll be damned to mess that up for yourself.

There it is again — that familiar knot in your stomach, one that rapidly pulls tighter and tighter the more you circle and grind against his thigh. Through your lashes, you can see Sanemi’s gaze locked heatedly on your face, a ravenous hunger in his eyes.

“You gonna cum just from this, sweetheart?” Despite his attempt at derision, his voice is rougher than gravel. His hands latch around your hips, shifting you until you’re perched right over the rock-hard bulge that has formed beneath the seat of his pants. 

In answer, you grind even harder against him, riding him with abandon as your nails dig into his shoulders. Moaning, Sanemi wraps his lips back around your tender nipple, and soon, he’s bucking up into you with equal fervor, the two of you gasping into one another. 

The hand pressed to your ass squeezes, Sanemi pushing you harder into him. You might just come like this, grinding against his bulge, Sanemi, mouthing hotly at your swollen breasts, tugging and nipping at your skin with his teeth. Everything feels heightened, your senses overwhelmed by him and his mouth until you buzz with the need for more. The knot in your stomach tightens, tightens — 

The stiffened seam of his pants catches your clit at precisely the right angle, and you fall apart. The whine that vibrates in your throat is nothing short of pathetic; a keening little plea as you fist at his hair, pressing his face into your chest while you grind desperately into him.  Your orgasm sweeps over you, both a relief and a taunt; a hollow echo of the release you crave, the high he’d given you that night that you’d pathetically chased since without success.

Sanemi only sucks at you harder. He finally releases you when the last feeble wave washes through, when he feels the tension in your limbs, settle.

“God damn,” he says roughly, imparting a final few flicks of his tongue across your nipple. “That was fuckin’ beautiful.”

With a last, harsh suck, Sanemi’s mouth leaves your sore chest with a soft pop. You barely have time to push the dampened hemp of your shirt from your mouth before the muscles of his arms ripple and flex around you. In an instant, you’re back under him, caged against your mattress by his hulking mass.

It’s thrilling, how easily he manhandles you, his touch firm and assured. Yet, no matter how capable he is of throwing you around — no matter how easily he can overpower those ever bigger and meaner than you  — his gentleness with you never wavers.

Sanemi wastes no time guiding your shirt over your head, throwing it somewhere over his shoulder. His mouth trails after his hands, and faster than you can blink, he rips your shorts down your legs, tossing them carelessly off the side of the bed. 

His fingers slide over the front of your underwear, circling. “There,” he marvels with a satisfied click of his tongue. “You’re fuckin’ soaked.” 

You don’t bother to tell him the wetness he feels might very well be from your period – after all, you’re wearing your speciality underwear, the kind that doesnt’ require you to wear tampons or pads. But you also don’t think Sanemi would care much either way, given how he continues circling your clit, savoring the way your legs spasm and jerk beneath him. 

Moaning, your thighs widen for him and Sanemi continues the languid turn of his fingers. You think he means to make you come again, and it’s embarrassing how quickly your body commits to that effort, but he pulls his hand away. 

Your whine needles some remorse out of him. He ducks to press a sweet kiss against your knee. “Be right back.” 

His weight on your bed lifts, and Sanemi quickly vanishes around the corner of the wall that blocks your bed from the view of the small hallway containing your bathroom, one cabined by your laughably tiny linen closet.

He reappears a few seconds later, one of your towels in hand.

“Hips up,” he orders, motioning for you to lift yourself from the mattress. Wide-eyed, you obey, your heart fluttering in your throat.

“For the record, I don’t care if we use a towel,” Sanemi tells you as he spreads it beneath you, creating a barrier between your body and your blankets. “I’d wash the sheets for ya once we finished. But if you prefer to use it, that’s fine by me.”

His hands guides you back down against the bed and linger once you settle, his fingers teasing along the jut of your hip. “But a period ain’t gonna stop me from helping my girl feel good.” He bends down to seal his promise with his lips against your thigh.

Off the side of your bed, Sanemi straightens, his movements easy and self-assured in every way you aren’t. Keeping his eyes locked with yours, he unbuckles his belt, the click of metal sending an electric current right between your legs. Wordlessly, he shucks his pants and briefs down his legs.

Your mouth runs dry; his cock looks somehow bigger, more imposing than it had that first night. Ramrod straight and leaking, the thick head of him smacking up against his abdomen. 

He pauses in front of you, close enough that you can feel the heat rolling off his body, and yet he maintains the smallest distance between you, holding back just enough to drive you mad.

You want to snap at him; to demand he ease the fire he’d ignited in your blood, to touch you in that way only he knew. But your desire for him makes your mind blank, and though you know your vocabulary is better than most, you can’t remember the words necessary to form your demand.

For Sanemi’s part, his eyes are locked heatedly on your face, alight with the hint of a challenge; baiting you to see how long it will take before you crack. 

His voice is as coarse as gravel. “Come here.”

Normally, you’d balk at his attempts to order you around, and instead offer him some snappy retort or a petulant roll of your eyes. Here, however, Sanemi has the upper hand, and your need is too great to try and wrestle it back from him. 

Careful not to disturb the towel spread so carefully atop your mattress, you rise. Sanemi watches your every movement with a hunger he doubts can ever be fully sated. His fingers find yours, and slowly, he pulls you into him, your chest squishing lightly against his abdomen. 

You gaze up at him through heavy-lidded eyes as his hands slide over your hips, marveling at the silkiness of your skin. With a teasing languidness, he loops his fingers under the band of your underwear, one at a time. Slowly, he drags them down the length of your legs, lowering himself to his knees  as he slides it over your feet. All the while, his gaze remains locked with yours, pressing his lips reverently to the fleshy part above your knee while his hands run up and down your calves. 

Your scent makes his mouth water: a sweet musk, tinged with the faintest trace of iron, and utterly intoxicating. The temptation to lean in and taste the paradise between your thighs is strong, but Sanemi resists. Instead, he rises back to his full height with the same slowness as before, his nose nearly touching yours.  

His eyes drop to your mouth right as your tongue flicks out to wet your lips, and Sanemi descends upon you like a tidal wave.

“Fuck.” He growls, hand closing around the back of your neck as he jerks you forward and crashes his mouth down against yours.

Whatever remained of your self-doubt and uncertainty fizzles under the weight of his intensity.  All at once, you feel like the most alluring creature ever to grace the planet, a temptress worthy of the great epics gathering dust at the store. Sanemi’s kiss is feverish and urgent and all-consuming; he kisses you like a man parched, your lips his only salvation.

Eager hands wrap under your thighs and haul you up, up, up. Your gasp of surprise at your sudden weightlessness is swallowed up by Sanemi’s tongue sweeping into your mouth.  

Down the two of you fall, a breathless heap of tangled limbs and shared moans landing on your bed. This time, your legs part for him without his guidance, and Sanemi settles easily into the cradle of your thighs. 

Only your second time and already, your bodies are moving together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You’re drawing him in like a magnet, your body his North Star. 

What a fucking idiot he was, to not have realized it sooner.

Your kisses turn sloppy and he feels you draw your legs up, your knees braced against his sides. He hisses as his bare length grazes your wet center, the head radiating from you making him throb.  

He rubs his cock against your damp heat again and again, his nails biting into your sheets as he resists the urge to thrust forward before he’s properly lubricated for you. 

Beneath him, you tense. “N-now?” You squeak, your nails digging into his shoulders as he rubs himself against the slick heat of you.

He almost groans. “Yeah, now.” If he has to wait any longer, he might go insane.

“But — but — don’t you want a condom —?”

Sanemi scowls as he drags his tip up and down your slit before pressing against your entrance. Fuck no, he doesn’t.

“Shhh. What’d I say?” He quells your worrying with a mighty thrust of his hips. The coppery slickness of you mixed with your arousal means there’s no resistance, and so, Sanemi sheathes himself to the hilt inside you in a single, fluid movement. “Shut up and let me take care of you, yeah?”

You answer him with a high-pitched cry, one that almost borders a small scream, and he’s hard-pressed to restrain himself from joining you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Sanemi grinds out. “Holy shit, sweetheart.”

He thought he’d been close to losing his mind that first time, but the feeling of you now, tighter and hotter than before, and so fucking wet, threatens to untether him from reality all together.

In fact, he realizes as his hips begin moving on their own, he’s likely already lost control. He begins with slow, shallow thrusts, but his movements quickly melt into hard, deep rolls of his hips that are little more than base instinct. He is driven only by the need for more, to push himself as deep as he can possibly go until the two of you fuse together as one.

You’re writhing beneath him, toes curling against your mattress, too overwhelmed by the feeling of him being buried inside you. Not that Sanemi is faring much better. It’s taking him a surprising amount of self-restraint to keep himself from coming right then, too lost in the heaven of your body. 

Amazed that he’s still able to form a coherent thought, he manages to ask, “You still on that pill?”

He has no intentions of using condoms ever again, not after experiencing the euphoria that is your bare pussy. But your answer will determine where he comes.

He feels you nod as your teeth catch his bottom lip, beseeching him for a kiss he’s only happy to oblige. He grunts into you, a needy, guttural sound as he works to set his pace. “You want me to pull out?”

You pause for a moment and then with wide eyes, you slowly shake your head.

Sanemi smiles against your mouth. “Good. Me neither.”

Sure, his rule against having children while still entrenched within the Corps’ operations threatens to go up in smoke, but you’re on birth control. And, as he’s learned, he can’t follow rules for shit when it comes to you.

He nudges your head to the side, burying his face against the exposed length of your neck.

“Jesus Christ,” he inhales deeply, mouth pressed to your skin. “I fuckin’ missed you.”

For the past week, his body has been rebelling against him, too restless to sleep, to think, to do anything but roar its discontent with him. But here, buried to the hilt inside you as he is, a calmness trickles through his veins, steadying him, bringing him back into himself.

He should’ve known, he thinks as he rolls his hips with yours, working to set his pace. It’s you. It has always been you.

Beneath him, you fare no better, just as overwhelmed by your reunion with his body as he is with yours. That burning stretch is still there, just as it had been that first night, but it’s nowhere near as sharp as it had been then. Still, it takes a moment to adjust to his intrusion, despite how ready you’d been to receive him. After all, Sanemi is on the larger end of the scale; not that you have anything in particular to compare him to. But his cock is a little longer than the length of your hand, and thick. 

And god, does he know how to use it. No wonder he’s so insufferably smug all the time. He’d earned his bragging rights a hundred times over.

You’re both panting, his forehead pressed to yours as your noses bump together. Your fingers twist in his hair, desperate to find an anchor the more Sanemi threatens to to send you over the edge of your sanity.

You try, bless you, to meet his movements, your hips tentatively jerking to meet his thrusts, to help him plunge deeper.

Your effort makes him melt. “Just let me do all the work, sweetheart.” He coos, pressing you firmly into your bed, limiting your movements with his weight. “You ain’t gotta do a thing but take it.”

Truth be told, Sanemi is dreaming of the day you’ll ride him. In addition to reminiscing how fucking good your pussy tastes, Sanemi also hasn’t been able to stop thinking about how you will look perched atop him, your hips rolling and dropping frantically against his, tits bouncing. But right now, you’re the one who needs to be taken care of, and he’s more than happy (if not downright insistent) that he’s the man for the job.

You give into him easily, sinking into the mattress and letting your legs spread wider, relaxed. Sanemi smothers his throaty hum of approval into your neck, sucking and biting his claim into your skin.

The air between you grows thick with the scent of iron and sex, clouding his head and further loosening whatever hold he pretends to have over the monstrous, feral thing inside him. The one that only wants to pin you down and take you harder, rougher, until you can’t fathom being anything else but his.

He’s only able to cling onto that last bit of self-control because he’s so focused on you, all too aware of your limits. Those big, watery eyes of yours are pools he can drown in, and the wobble in your lower lip as he hits deeper nearly drives him insane. God, he can’t believe he denied himself of this for so long – of you, of the privilege of taking care of you, of making you cry out his name and beg for more.  

“God, you’re perfect.” He moans out in praise. “You’re fuckin’ perfect.” 

Though it’s only your second time, your bodies slide together like it’s the most natural thing in the world; easier than breathing. You are an extension of him as much as he is of you, and he can’t even chalk it up to his eye for detail. The observations he’d made of you last time had nothing to do with survival. It was instinctual. Sanemi hadn’t needed to work to memorize you; he’d known you the second your skin met his. 

It’s this familiarity that guides him now, Sanemi’s lips and teeth and hands finding every spot that makes you moan, gasp, bite your lip until it nearly bleeds while you scratch at him and urge him closer. 

Though he’s admittedly half-fucked out of his mind with euphoria as you clench and pulse around him, Sanemi does note that some of your uncertainty toward your own body has returned. Your hands drift from his hair to his face before dropping to clutch at his shoulders. As Sanemi’s movements gain momentum, making you bounce against the mattress, your nails lightly – hesitantly – crest into his skin.

He chuckles against the shell of your ear. “You can cling to me as much as you want, darlin’. I don’t mind.” He rolls his hips more purposefully this time, the arm around your waist tightening, forcing you to arch harder into him. “I’ll take good care of my girl.”

His knees shift forward and Sanemi pulls back to study you. It’s hard to know where to rest his eyes; you look fucking incredible under him like this, hair fanned out, framing your head like a halo; your breasts, peaked and mouthwateringly full, bouncing perfectly in time with his movements.

But it’s your face that catches his attention; the way you tug your bottom lip between your teeth, coupled with how your inner walls flex around him, as though in answer, your pupils blown wide with desire.

His free arm pushes under your knee and your pretty mouth falls open at deepening the reach of his cock. “You like it when I call you that, huh? My girl.”

Tears cling to your eyelashes. You manage only a hurried, jerky nod of your head, incapable of making any sound more intelligent than a few whimpers.

“Yeah?” And he pins you down harder into the mattress with a snarl, his arm pressing your leg nearly to your shoulders. “Good, ‘cause you are.” 

The lewd squelching of Sanemi’s cock bullying relentlessly against your swollen, aching walls grows louder. He untangles his arm from under your leg to move above your head, bracing his weight on his fist where it’s balled into the mattress. He uses his new position to increase the force of his thrusts, his legs straightening out behind him, his feet digging into the bed as he draws his cock nearly all the way out of your heat, before plunging right back in.

“And this is all mine, too, isn’t it?” A free hand wedges between your bodies, Sanemi slapping lightly at your clit. You cry out as he repeats the action again, but when he presses down at the next contact of his fingers and circles them, a howl of his name rips free.

He tucks his dark chuckle into your throat, his teeth nipping just above where your pulse flutters. “Yeah, it is. ‘Cuz you’re my girl. My good fuckin’ girl.”

Your cunt clenches around him in steady pulses, every fleck of your slick warmth fogging his brain. It’s unreal, the way you respond to the filth pouring from his mouth. It nearly drives him insane; here he is, someone who has only ever known hell, yet he’s managed to steal away his own piece of heaven. 

Rough fingers tighten around your hip, pulling you harder to meet him. Sheer desire may have clouded his head in those first moments, his delight in getting to have you making him over-eager to get you naked, but the fog is rapidly dissipating. Instead, as he moves, Sanemi’s dizzying pleasure becomes edged by solemnity. 

Sure, sex has always been an easier way to work through emotions he wasn’t allowed to feel, but that sort of self-distraction can’t fly anymore. Not with you; not when you mean everything.

He was your first and he wants to be your last. Your only.

None of this is temporary; he hadn’t told you he was all in until he got bored, or until one of the thousand reasons couples break up came along to give him the first pass to skip town. He didn’t attach any strings to that key. You need to know. You need to know how fucking serious he is about this. You. 

But in case any ambiguities remain, let him clear them up now.

“Can’t believe I wasted all that fuckin time on the others when I could’ve had you. You used to smile at me, you remember that?” Sanemi draws his hips back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside before slamming back into you. “When we were in school. Used to make me go dumb in the head when ya did.”

The wet, sticky squelching where your bodies connect only grows louder as Sanemi increases his pace. “And then I’d see you smile at others and it drove me nuts. But then I realized you were smilin’ special for me — and not just because you were bein’ polite. You meant it.”

He tucks his head into the crook of your neck, his mouth sucking a harsh bruise into your skin that he soothes with his tongue. “Should’ve made you mine back then.” He growls, and below him, you tense. “Should’ve made you my girl and taken you far away from here. Might’ve even become a better man, if I had. I would’ve, if I’d known. That you were fuckin’ made for me — fuck!” Sanemi throws his head back as you squeeze tighter around him.

He drops his gaze back down to your face. Though your eyes are glassy with pleasure, there’s recognition there, an understanding that parts your lips as the weight of his words settles.

I would’ve wanted you, then. 

Judging by the dent that appears between your eyebrows, he knows his silent confession isn’t lost on you, even as a sharp cry tears from your throat. 

Sanemi leans down and kisses you, roughly, in confirmation. “And I don’t just mean your body,” he breaks away from your lips with a pant. “You were fuckin’ made for me. Wish I’d known it back then.”

He gives a sharp twist of his hips on his next plunge in, making you bow away from the bed and into him with a cracked moan. But Sanemi lets his weight press you right back down, your bodies rolling together as one.

There’s a limberness to your body that hadn’t been there that first time; a relaxedness in your limbs now that you know what to expect, one that has you opening your thighs a little wider, an invitation for him to hit deeper that he’s only too happy to accept. 

“Oh fuck — that’s it, baby. Yes.” He can’t be bothered to feel embarrassed by the way his voice strains as he shouts, “Fuck!”

As tight as you’d been when he’d first entered you, nothing compares to the way you’re squeezing his cock, now. You’ve sharpened the arch in your spine, smushing your breasts into his chest as you offer him to take more and more. So firm is the hold of your body over his, that Sanemi finds it increasingly difficult to thrust, and he resigns himself instead to holding hard by the hips and grinding. 

A too familiar tingle at the base of his spine prickles. He going to come and soon, and that’s unacceptable. His entire sexual history has been predicated on two rules: no unprotected encounters and no cumming before his partner.

He’d thrown the first rule to the wind with enthusiastic ease; but he’ll be damned if he starts reneging on the second. Not when he’s promised to take care of you.

Sanemi’s hand unlatches from its place above your hip to push between your bodies. Your eyes roll back into your head and your jaw goes slack when his thumb finds your aching clit and swirls, coaxing you to relax into the bed and ease some of your iron-tight grip.

“S — San —“ you try, but whatever thought you’re trying to string together dies in your throat under a keening wine as Sanemi shallowly thrusts into you.

He grits his teeth. Not enough; he’s still too damn close. His balls have become painfully tight, and the electric prickle he feels has bled into his stomach, forming a know that’s becoming tauter by the second.

He won’t be able to hold off for much longer.

“C’mere, baby.” He manages with a croak. “Need ya to cum for me.” And with some remorse, he withdraws his hand. It joins the other in smoothing down the sides of your thighs, bending each leg at your knee. “Keep ‘em up. I’m gonna get real deep, okay?” 

He anchors himself against your sheets and settles. The adjustment pushes him deeper inside your warmth and a small moan escapes your mouth. Sanemi begins rocking into you, gentle at first, but gradually faster. “Might feel a bit strange, but I need ya to trust me. I’ll take care of you.” 

Knees nearly to your chest, you nod. Tentative whimpers soon melt into steady cries that pace with his movements. Before long, your hips are rolling up and away from the bed with his, your toes curling in the air.

The hand he has braced next to your head fists at your sheets. This new position means you’re even tighter than before, and the extra slickness from your period has him bumping up against all the right places in record time. 

Below, you squirm and claw at him, but your moans only grow louder as Sanemi continues to reach deeper within your swollen, tender walls, searching for the spot he knows will have you unraveling.

“S-Sanemi,” you whine, your nails digging into the corded muscles of his back

“I know you’re feelin’ sensitive, baby, but you’ll feel better if you cum. Can you do that for me?”

Eager to ease you into agreement, he rewards you with a trail of slow, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. The knot in his stomach tightens, but Sanemi resists; his self-control used to be a source of pride, and he’s determined to cling onto whatever thread of it remains.

Thankfully, you flutter and clench around him, a broken moan lilting out of you in answer.

Relief courses through him. “Yes, baby — that’s it. Shit.” His eyes squeeze shut and he focuses on the sharp sting of your nails raking down his back, willing the pain to ground him as he fights off his own orgasm. “You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

He hasn’t dared forget how it feels when you’re at your breaking point; sweet, slick walls pulsing and clenching wildly around him, every muscle in your body strung tight as you wait for that coil in your gut to spring.

It’s all he’s thought about for the last eleven days.

And when you confirm with a jerky, frantic nod, Sanemi leans in and presses his lips to your forehead. “Let’s make it a big one, yeah?”

Without waiting for a response, Sanemi drops his head to the pillow below. Slowly, he allows his weight to sink into you, pushing him further into your warmth. You cry out when his tip kisses a spot deep within you, a slight tinge of pain sparking through your lower abdomen that intensifies when he hits it again and again. Your nails rake down his back and tears well hot and fast in your eyes as Sanemi begins rutting hard and fast into you, no sound leaving your mouth but a series of strangled, choked gasps.

It hurts, the way he hammers away at that spot. You can’t deny it. But it also feels so fucking incredible that you can’t fathom him stopping now. Ever.

He churns harshly with every brutal snap of his hips, the coarse, rough hairs of his base scraping right against your clit, until that coil behind your navel cinches impossibly tight.

“Sanemi —“ you squeak, but nothing else follows, save a single, choked gasp.

It’s over and he knows it.

“Go on, sweetheart.” His voice husky and warm, murmuring in your ear. “Show me who you belong to.”

That’s all it takes; with a guttural gasp, you seize around him like a vice. Your limbs tense even as a warmth bursts deep from within your stomach. 

Your first orgasm with him had been powerful; this one is a cataclysm.

Climax rips through you like a hurricane; an explosion of pleasure that fractures you apart, shatters you into hundreds of fractals that all sing one name until your throat burns. 

Sanemi only fucks you harder.

Everything falls away; the industrial iron piping on your ceiling, the faint golden glow of the fairy lights woven around your headboard, even the rough fabric of the towel spread beneath you. All of it fades to white as you freefall into an endless ocean that’s precisely the color of the eyes you love most. 

Thick fingers close around your jaw, urging your face towards his. Far away, in the deep throes of your own ecstasy, you hear his soft whisper of your name, a string tugging you through the waves. You follow it all the way back to where you lie, sandwiched between your bed and his body. Through pleasure-bleary eyes, you find him watching you with a hunger that only intensifies the harder you come around him.

Somehow, despite the fact he has now seen every inch of your undressed body, the way his eyes hold yours has you feeling stripped to the bone. Beneath his ravenous, dark gaze, you are flayed open, no part of you left hidden. Truly naked. 

He has to see it, you think even as you continue to wail his praise. He has to, spread beneath him as you are. He has to know every corner of you bears his name. 

A brutal snap of his hips sends Sanemi’s cock right into that wonderfully painful place, your back arching hard off the bed as another great wave picks you up and slams you against the shore that is him. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes as you continue to sob from the force of your orgasm until finally, the tide recedes, sending you plummeting back to the mess of blankets below.

Sanemi’s arms catch you before you land. 

He lets your legs drop from his shoulders and replaces them with your arms. Though limp, you manage to summon your residual strength to tighten your hold around his neck, clinging to him.

Satisfied, no longer does Sanemi try and hold back his ragged moans and grunts as he chases his release. Not that he’d given much of a shit about it before, but Sanemi finds that he really can’t muster one now.

His hands curl around the edge of your mattress above your head, Sanemi using his grip for leverage, deepening the reach of his cock until he can’t tell where you end and he begins.

“Oh fuck — oh fuck —“ Sanemi can’t stop the filth pouring from his mouth as the familiar prickle at the base of his spine grows hotter, more electric. 

He’s going hard; the entire bed creaks and rocks with the force of his movements, the bedposts rhythmically knocking up against your wall with pronounced thumps.  “Fuck, I’m gonna come — baby, I’m gonna come —“

Beneath him, your moans have resumed though they now carry the faint cadence of a whimper. Somewhere, in the back of his pleasure-addled mind, Sanemi knows you’re probably overstimulated, but his pace only increases. He can’t stop, doesn’t want to stop, not when he’s so fucking close, not when it’s been so fucking long —

Unintentionally, you graze the raised skin of his brand, and Sanemi tosses his head back, hissing in approval. More, he wills, fucking into you harder. Do it more, carve your own claim into him. The Corp’s mark doesn’t mean shit to him, now.

Whether you understand the bruising demands of his hips or whether you’re simply reacting to their quick, hard snaps, you comply, your hands raking down his spine, Another powerful thrust throws your arm up his back, and you fumbles for purchase right in the dip between his shoulders.  

Gasping, you sink your nails right into his mark, and Sanemi loses control. 

With one last mighty push of his hips, Sanemi comes undone with a roar, his balls flush against your ass as his climax slams into him.

A strangled cry of your name is all he can manage before stars explode behind his eyelids. His jaw slackens, and his lower body moves on its own, his hips canting as his release barrels through him and into you, hot and thick. He’d sworn the first time he finished in you had been the hardest he’d ever came in his life. But then, your legs jerk around his waist, your shins locking together at the base of his spine as your thighs squeeze his hips, and his vision goes white.  

For someone who has spent most of his sexually active years doggedly refusing to consider the idea of barebacking any of his former partners, Sanemi has a bitch of a time trying to remember why that is. Because nothing, not a goddamn thing at all, will ever compare to this. 

Below him, you begin to mewl and whine, your hands clawing lightly at his chest in an effort to push him away. A voice blooms in the back of his head, a faint reminder that you’re likely overstimulated to the point of discomfort.

But it just feels too fucking good.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m still —“ Sanemi struggles against the deep groan vibrating in his throat as he continues to fuck you through his release. “Not — ngh — not done yet —“

He shifts, allowing his full weight to sink into you and still your squirming. He pushes your arms away from him, his hands wrapping around your biceps, pinning you down in place.

If you truly wanted him off, Sanemi would have obeyed, regardless of how badly he wanted to finish coming inside you. But though he has you held down, you still manage to rock your hips with his, your walls pulsing around him as his cum continues to fill you.

His cock twitches one last time, leaving Sanemi lightheaded and trembling as he finally finishes spending himself in you. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he drops his forehad against yours, panting. “You got me fuckin’ shaking.” 

He unlatches his grip from your biceps in favor of bracing his forearms against your mattress, mindful to ease his full weight off you. Your fingers sweep through his hair, your other hand resting against the side of his neck, scratching at him until his eyes flutter open to reveal you craning your head up, a silent request for his kiss.

Sanemi obliges, and once he starts, he can’t stop. He doesn’t break the connection of your lips even as he pulls out, soothing your responding wince with a flick of his tongue. He stretches out on his side next to you, no room between your bodies as his arm nestles in the valley between your breasts, his hand cupping your cheek, kissing you all the while.

He lays with you like that for several moments until wetness graces his cheeks. Sanemi pulls back to see tears sliding down your face, more clinging to your eyelashes like tiny, glittering jewels. 

Worry, hot and frantic, surges in his gut. “Hey, hey,” he kisses away the tracks staining your cheeks. “Was that okay? Was I too rough?”

You shake your head, turning it away from him to face your ceiling, your hand wiping tiredly at your eyes. “Not at all. I feel better – so much better. Less achy.” You roll your head back toward him, your eyes still watery but bright. “It’s just that – that was so fucking good. I didn’t expect it.”

That does little to assuage some of his concern. “What, it wasn’t good last time?”

You roll your eyes. “Not what I’m saying. I mean, I know I’m more sensitive than usual on my period. I’ve used toys before to help, but nothing has ever reduced me to tears from how good it felt.”

Instantly, his anxiety is washed away with a surge of pride that wells in his chest; a smugness that comes from the knowledge he’d fucked you so well you cried, but he keeps his boasts to himself.

Instead, Sanemi snorts. “Told ya I’d take care of you.”

You click your tongue, fidgeting as another gush of his cum leaks out of you. “Feels like you needed to be taken care of, too.”

“Haven’t jacked off in almost a week. Too much shit goin’ on.” He frowns before adding, “Plus, you’re all I wanted. My hand couldn’t compare to you.”

You roll your head back to face your ceiling, your eyes sliding closed and a blissful smile spreading across your lips. A smile that makes Sanemi’s own mouth part, his eyes growing wide, his cheeks, warm.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your beauty.

Sanemi settles back down next to you, his body slightly lower on the bed than yours. He remains on his side, eyes tracing every detail of your serene expression as he presses kisses along your bare shoulder.

Moments pass, or maybe hours, and still, Sanemi does not tear his eyes away from you. Eventually, your breathing slows under his adoring gaze, and Sanemi knows you’re moments away from sleep.

He whispers your name and you crack an eye open. “You feel up for a shower?”

Sleepily, you nod, but you make no effort to rise from the plush comfort of your bed.

Sanemi sighs through his nose. “Need some help?”

“My legs don’t work anymore.” You can’t hold back your giggle as you roll to watch Sanemi shake his head at you before rising, his hand rumpling his hair. The blankets fall away from his lower hips, giving you a premium view of the world-class ass of Sanemi Shinazugawa, and you can’t help but smirk at the faint, red crescent marks dotting his skin, left behind by your nails. But the remnants of your post-sex haze dissipate the moment Sanemi and turns back to you, revealing the extent of the mess you’d left behind.

You blanch; his groin and cock are both covered in a sticky redness, a residue of your period blood mixed with both your cum and his.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Your hands flail as you try and wipe away all traces of blood from his groin and his softening cock, desperate to erase the evidence before he can see, before he can be disgusted by it, by you —

“Hey, hey — watch it —“ he growls as you brush your hand against his overly-sensitive cock. Sanemi’s hand snatches your wrist away from him, halting you mid-air. “Cut it out.”

Your cheeks burn with shame. “But —“

“Will ya stop worrying about it?” His fingers loosen around your wrist, and you retract your arm. “Look — see —“

Sanemi swipes his own hand through the mess you’d left behind and holds it up, your blood smeared on his fingers. “I don’t give a fuck. Kinda hot, actually.”

There is a mess of pink between your thighs, a combination of crimson mixed with his white that leaks out of you, staining your skin and the towel beneath you. He knows he’s wanton because he can’t stop thinking about how fucking pretty your pussy is. 

Especially when it’s covered with him.

His tongue flicks out to wet his lips. “Definitely hot. And you’re gonna let me have a taste next time.”

Your thighs press together at the very obvious hunger in his stare. “Sorry my period interfered with your oral fixation.”

“Didn’t interfere with shit. When I say ‘next time’ I mean, next time you’re on it.”

You gape at him. “You’re not serious –”

“Very.”

Heat creeps up your neck. “Sanemi, it’ll be bloody –”

“I told you, I don’t give a shit. Only reason I didn’t do it tonight was ‘cuz I was worried you might stroke out.” He shoots you a naughty wink. “I’m still breakin’ you in, after all.”  

The smugness in his tone ignites a fire in your cheeks, but before you can respond, the bed and blankets disappear from beneath you.

“C‘mon,” Sanemi grunts as he gathers you up in his arms. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

—

There is a stark contrast between sleeping with Sanemi Shinazugawa and showering with him. 

Moments before, he’d been committed to fucking you senseless, seemingly not satisfied until you were reduced to a soggy, pleasure-drunk mess, only capable of gasping his name in stilted syllables. 

None of that ferocity is present here, under the warm spray of the shower. Instead, Sanemi’s touch is soft, almost hesitant, as his arms encircle you, locking you in against his chest. His hand finds your face, and then his lips, and you melt into him. His kiss is not the passionate, possessive clash of tongue and teeth that it had been only moments before; this time, it is gentle. Chaste.

Any doubts which might have lingered in you as to the status of your relationship with him are quickly washed away, sliding down your legs with the water before mixing with the bubbles that slip down the drain. This is not a speck of softness marooned among an oasis of lust; this is not a temporary moment of affection between two people desperate to know it. 

This is intimacy.

It is tenderness which warms Sanemi’s eyes as his mouth breaks from yours, that turns them into twin pools of amethyst as he brushes a wet strand of your hair away from your face. It’s adoration; a vulnerability he’d never dare show to just a hookup. This — he — is meant for you and you alone. And it is that silent understanding which passes between you that your hand moves to lay against his cheek, parrroting his gentle touch. And it is what makes you surge up boldly on your toes, your mouth slanting over his once more.

—-

By the time Sanemi wrenches your bathroom door open sometime later, allowing the steam from the shower to billow out into the open area of your studio, both of your fingers have turned wrinkly. He wagers you would’ve stayed in there longer, had your hot water supply not run out, your shower head dousing you both with water he reckons was dangerously close to freezing. 

He’s the first to step out, though only because your bathroom is laughably small. He’s lucky the two of you managed to stand comfortably in your tub, but he doesn’t think that good fortune extends to you both drying off in the narrow space between your toilet, counter, and tub. Better he peel away now, and avoid starting a fight because you can’t mind your elbows.

Sanemi pads back to the bathroom, towel looped around his waist. “Took care of the towel on the bed. Threw it in the wash.” On cue, you hear the familiar click of your washing machine as it settles into its cycle. “Nothin’ got on your sheets, but I know some people can be picky. You okay sleeping on ‘em?”

“It’s fine,” you call from the bathroom. “Can you do me a favor? Top drawer of my dresser — there’s a row of black underwear. Throw me a pair?”

He returns a moment later, smirking as you hover in your bathtub, wrapped in an overlarge towel, waiting for him to bring you your panties. Like some internal code of decency prevents you from traipsing around your apartment in your towel like he does, even though he’s seen every inch of your body.

You emerge from the bathroom a moment later, still wrapped in your towel, right as Sanemi fishes something dark from its place on your floor.

He tosses his shirt to you. “You can wear that to bed, if you want. Not that you’ll hear me complain if you decide to sleep naked.” He shoots you a wink as he towels his hair. Pride wells in his chest at the sight of you slipping his tee over your head, and it soothes that hot, possessive streak within him. “Hope you don’t mind if I do, though. I’m not big on puttin’ dirty clothes back on after I’ve showered.” 

“You’re —?” The surprise in your tone stills his hands, and he lifts his head. “Are you staying?” 

Sanemi quirks an eyebrow at you. He’d thought it obvious he was, given the shower and how you’re now wearing his shirt. He studies you for a moment, notes how your hands twist together and the anxious shift of your weight from foot to foot.

A sudden sobriety settles over him. Of course; you’ve said you’d never been in a relationship before, which means all of this — having him over, showering with you, and sleeping in your bed — is brand new. As ready and committed as he is to you, perhaps this is all too much, too fast. It’s only natural for you to want to hit the brakes; to feel out this unfamiliar road. 

“I don’t have to.” Embarrassment creeps up his neck. “We can slow this down, if that’s what you want. I’m not in any rush.”

Dumbass, he chides at himself. Granted, this is new territory for him as well. He at least thought his years of rotating partners in and out of his bed would’ve meant he had some tact, but here he is, jumping the gun. 

Your eyes widen in alarm. “N-no! That’s not what I meant. I want you to stay -- I do. I just didn’t want you to think you had to.” 

He can see how your cheeks darken as he draws near, can see the bob of your throat as you keep your eyes firmly glued to his, a concerted effort to keep from looking down, as though you haven’t seen, touched, felt every inch of his nudity. 

A small smirk settles at the corner of his mouth. 

Silently, Sanemi takes your chin between his thumb and index finger, keeping your face tilted up towards his. He leans in and feels your eyelashes flutter against his nose in anticipation of his kiss. 

Only millimeters separate your lips when he pauses. “Who else is gonna slobber all over me ‘til I fall asleep?”

Your eyes fly open. “Y-you—! I —!” 

He silences your indignant sputtering with a quick peck to your lips. “Yeah, I’m stayin’. That key wasn’t just some empty gesture, idiot.”

You smack his chest half-heartedly, but laugh as you kiss him again. “Just get back in bed. I’ll make tea.” 

Sanemi steps back with a cheeky smirk and lets his towel drop to the floor. “Yes ma’am.”

He must know your eyes are glued to his ass as he walks away, for he offers you a little wiggle as he retreats back to your bed.

“Don’t forget to pick your jaw up off the ground, sweetheart.” He calls smoothly over his shoulder, focused on meticulously peeling back the covers of your bed, layer by layer. “Can’t make tea if you’re drooling everywhere.”

Rolling your eyes, you disappear behind the half wall of your kitchenette. Maybe you should kick him out, naked ass and all. 

Out in the main area, Sanemi has settled back into bed, his arms folded behind his head.

“There’s another reason it took me so long to see you, you know,” Sanemi stares up at the black pipes striped across the high ceilings of your apartment as you busy yourself with the kettle in the kitchen. “I went to see my brother.”

“Genya?” You poke your head out from the doorway. You disappear only when the kettle beeps, mugs clinking together as you pull them from one of your cabinets.

“Yeah.”

You reemerge a moment later, two steaming cups of tea clutched delicately in each hand. “He doesn’t live with you, right? He’s someplace far from here?”

Carefully, you set the mugs on your small bedside table. You crawl back into bed beside him, Sanemi’s arms opening to allow you to settle in against him, your head coming to rest against his pectoral.

“He’s enrolled in a boys’ boarding school.” He puffs his chest out in pride. “A damn good one, too.”

Boarding school. You’d known that Genya attended school in another city, and spent most of his time there at Sanemi’s insistence, but you’d assumed he’d had his brother stay with a friend or a local family.

Now, you think of Sanemi, with his patched-up leather jacket and worn boots; of the apartment you know he keeps in the Silo that he never lets you visit, and try and square that with the Sanemi who pays for his brother’s private education. “Do I want to know how you manage to afford boarding school tuition?”

“He’s on scholarship — wasn’t hard to get, considering our family’s finances. Found the proof easily enough.” Sanemi stares off into the empty space of your apartment with a shrug. “But I also started saving as soon I started makin’ money. The minute I had enough put aside, I sent Genya away. Paid for his uniforms and school stuff. I send him cash every month now so he can do extracurriculars and shit. I want ‘im socializing. The more friends he makes, the more connections he’s got.”

Sanemi’s voice then softens. “The more chance that he’ll stay far away from here, y’know?”

You trace your index finger along one of the jagged, silvery scars that cuts across his chest. “Was this before or after your father died?”

“Tch. After.” Sanemi snorts. “The old man’s death was never reported to the cops, so there ain’t a death certificate for him. I forged his signature on the transfer paperwork.” He thinks before adding, “had someone I know get me the paperwork to become Genya’s legal guardian, once I hit eighteen. Not like it changed all that much. It’s always been me ‘n him, even before our old man bit it.”

A year ago, you hadn’t imagined Sanemi Shinazugawa was capable of anything other than brash self-service. He’d been so good at pretending to care about nothing, acting as if the only thing keeping him tethered to this world was a heart that refused to quit beating.

Time and again, Sanemi has proven that his actions are far louder than even his most obnoxious words. While he shrouds himself in arrogance, it’s a cloak that’s flimsy, at best. Once again, all it takes is a little effort, a little more initiative, to see what lies beneath it. 

Under the beast’s mask lies the endless beauty that makes up Sanemi Shinazugawa: all his selflessness, all his fierce love and devotion. So gentle, so pure, and so worthy of the love he won’t let himself believe he deserves.

Emotion prickles behind your eyes. As if anyone on earth could be more worthy than him. 

“‘Sides, I like havin’ someone to fuss after. Reminds me that some part of me is still human.” He continues, oblivious to the way your throat works to swallow around the lump lodged in your airways. “Now, I’ve got two people I get to care about.”

His hand holds up yours and he turns it over in his palm, admiring the shape of your fingers; the softness of your skin. He smiles and it’s the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. “I’m pretty fuckin’ lucky, if you ask me. All things considered.”

Your silence shakes him out of his indulgent appreciation of your hand. But when his eyes find yours again, it’s his turn to be stunned silent. 

You’re doing it again — looking at him as though he is the sun; such adoration feels nearly impossible to accept, especially by someone like him.

And yet, he wants to try; for you, he’d try anything.

For a long moment, the two of you hold each other’s gaze, neither daring to break the bubble that’s formed over your heads. What passes between you has a name, and both of you know it. It’s what slipped off your tongue that first night together, the confession whose weight you could no longer bear. 

It remains unspoken, for now, but it’s there. Both of you know it; both of you feel it.

“I think the tea has cooled.” You murmur shyly. But you make no effort to reach for it, so neither does he. Instead, Sanemi leans forward and presses his lips softly against yours.

He can’t get enough of kissing you. This small act of intimacy was one he’d always left confined to the bedroom. Something he only ever did in the heat of the moment, when clothes were being shed, or when his hand was wound in someone’s hair, wrenching their head back to tease their lips with his as he pounded into them from behind.

Not since he was a teenager has he kissed anyone for kissing’s sake.

And he’d certainly never had anyone of his own to kiss whenever he wanted; with whom he could give into his desire for physical affection. But now that he’s tasted your lips, Sanemi finds he cannot get enough.

Minutes pass, or maybe hours. Time doesn’t seem to matter here, wrapped up in each other, kissing and talking and being together. As tired as you are, you can’t fathom falling asleep now. 

Chin propped on his upper abdomen, you reach for him. Your fingers brush through his bangs, and Sanemi’s head bows into your touch. His hand smooths up and down your spine, charting your skin. 

Your head suddenly lifts up, a playful smile on your pretty lips. “What do I call you now, anyways? You never answered.”

Sanemi’s fingers pause their lazy exploration of your back. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean this. Us.”

A dent appears between his brows. “I’m your fuckin’ boyfriend. What else?”

That smirk widens into a full, teasing grin. The mirth in your eyes is beautiful, but Sanemi can’t help but feel like you’re making a joke he’s not in on. “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just — you don’t seem like the type to care about labels, that’s all. In fact, I thought you’d be against them.” 

Sanemi’s tone turns indignant. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I want a label?” 

“I don’t know.” You reply drily. “Maybe I assumed you didn’t want your bad boy image to take a hit.”

“What fuckin’ bad boy image —?”

You settle your head back down against him, your lashes tickling above his abdomen. That faint smile lingers for a second longer, but it disappears when you twist to press a kiss against his skin.  

Instantly, Sanemi’s griping quiets and his knuckle ghosts over the curve of your cheek. For a moment, he studies you. He traces over every detail of your face, as though you’re nothing more than a fleeting indulgence. Like he needs to savor you, before someone comes and plucks you away. 

“It’s weird, y’know?” His fingers play absently with the damp ends of your hair. “‘M not used to going to sleep with anyone. My bed’s always cold.”

You snort against his chest. “That’s not what the rumors said.”

“I didn’t let them spend the night,” you can hear the faint defensiveness in his tone. “Didn’t even cuddle with ‘em, either.”

“Yes, I heard you were quite the gentleman,” you reply airily. “Gave them just enough time to get dressed before you pushed them out the door.”

He chuffs. “You’re makin’ me sound like some sorta player.” 

“Name one person you’ve slept with besides me.” 

He taps his finger to the tip of your nose. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.” He tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “And besides, there’s only one who matters.” 

This time, it’s you who flushes, heat pooling in your cheeks. “You don’t have to seduce me. You’ve already talked your way into bed with me.”

“You’re the one who cornered me, Princess.” Sanemi counters. “In fact, you were pretty damn insistent about it. You haven’t seen all the ways I know how to seduce a woman — not yet, anyway.”

“Oh?” Your hand teases down the length of his torso, your fingers pausing just at the edge of the blanket, where it’s pulled over his lower half. Lightly, you drag your nail over his skin, and Sanemi bites his tongue to keep his hips from twitching under your touch. “Care to share with the class?”

“I might.” And he snatches your hand by the wrist, stilling you before you can sneak below the blanket and start something he knows you can’t finish. “But I think you’d prefer it if I showed you.”

Your giggles are intoxicating as he flips you back under him, his lips peppering your skin with kisses everywhere he can reach. 

It’s incredible; he’s never felt so at ease with another. But the weight of his choice soon settles over him once more, and his face turns serious.

“I can’t be here every night,” and there’s something like regret in his eyes as they search yours, and the thumb stroking your cheek feels repentant. “My…job won’t let me be, as much as I might want to.”

His expression darkens. “And I don’t want to risk anyone following me. No —“

“No patterns,” you finish with a small, understanding smile. “I didn’t think that part would change, even if you decided to come back.”

“It’s not fair to you,” Sanemi admits, his mouth thinning into a hard line. “Nothin’ about this is fair to you. I can’t take you out on dates. We can’t move in  together. I can’t even see you everyday. I—.”

He cuts himself off with a sign, and the hand that was playing with your hair falls to your back and stills. “I don’t blame you if you decide it’s too much. I told you, you deserve better —“

A press of your finger against his lips stifles his self-loathing. “And I told you, I don’t want anyone else.”

Sanemi’s hand closes around your wrist and he presses your hand more fully to his mouth, but he does not speak.

“I told you how I felt about you, and I meant it.” And then, you add more quietly, “I know what I signed up for.”

He winces at that. “No,” he reaches to stroke your cheek with his knuckle. 

“No, you don’t. I know you think you do — and I’m gonna do my damnedest to keep you far away from my shit — but there are risks to bein’ with me, Y/N.”

Risks he never should’ve brought to your door to begin with.

“Like what, to my safety?” The bluntness of your words is softened by the inquisitive tilt of your head. “I don’t know if that’s as bad as you might think.”

“But —“

“Do you think I was somehow safer when I was all alone? Do you think anyone would have noticed if I’d just disappeared one day?”

Your fingers trace circles in the dip between his pecs, toying with the faint smattering of pale hair that lies there. “My siblings don’t call. I haven’t seen my parents in over two years.” You give him a wan smile. “At least now if something happens to me, there’s someone in this damn city who would give a shit.“

The thought makes his gut turn, and yet, the nausea he feels at the prospect of anything happening to you pales against the sorrow he feels that you’ve been left alone for so long.

It made sense, he thought, for someone like him to have no one. Until you, he’d been a staunch observer of the Corp’s creed; he’d sent his little brother as far away as he could, and resigned himself to an existence of self-imposed isolation. He’d known his future – how little of it likely existed – would be too hostile to forge any bonds, the soil of his life too acidic, too toxic for anything real to take root. The idea that he could have anyone to love and to keep had never been his to claim and so, he’d not known to mourn its loss.

But you hadn’t been raised the same way he had. By his own observations, you’d grown up safe and warm and loved in a nice house that sat situated on a row of other nice homes. Ones built with brick and mortar; where you never had to worry about the lights shutting off or whether you would be warm come winter.

And your parents seemed like they’d given a damn. He’d never forgotten the relief on their faces that day, when he’d returned your little sister to them; how they’d clung to her, tears of relief and gratitude shining in their eyes. That was something else Sanemi hadn’t known: the love of a parent. Not apart from his mother, but she’d died not long after Genya was born, leaving her two boys saddled with a man who couldn’t spell the word father, let alone understand the duties of one.

You’d been given everything he hadn’t, and yet, you’d ended up exactly like him: alone. 

Worse, Sanemi realizes, he’d secured more than you had in his adulthood. He’d grown a network. His position in the Corps meant he had comrades who would at least know if he turned up dead. Who might even secure justice down the business end of a steel bat or the barrel of a stolen gun.

You didn’t even have that.

You shrug. “I don’t know. I think you knowing and caring I exist makes me a little safer.”

How could he not? You’re the axis upon which his world now turns, the only stabilizing force in his life.

A lump builds thickly in his throat. His arms form a protective cage around you, tightening until you lay your head back down against his chest.

His hand cups the back of your skull. “Alright,” he says hoarsely after a moment. “As long as you’re fine with someone like me, I won’t push it.” His fingers comb gently through your hair.

“Mmm. I’m pretty content with my choices.” You hum sleepily against his skin. Sanemi glances down to see your eyes fighting a losing battle against sleep. “’Specially when you do that.”

A ghost of a smile forms on Sanemi’s lips. “You can go to sleep, y’know.”

You nestle into his chest. “Will you be here when I wake up?”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I promise. The felonies can wait.”  He settles in deeper against your pillows, his fingers still stroking along your scalp. “‘Sides, I wouldn’t leave my girl before kissin’ her goodbye.”

You snuggle happily into his skin, and before long, your breathing slows and you grow still, your fingers curled limply on his chest. He didn’t think it would take you all that long to fall asleep, and here you are, safe and sound and his. 

“Sleep, baby,” he murmurs quietly against your hairline, though he knows you can’t hear him. “I ain’t lettin’ you go, now.”

For a long while, he holds you, his fingers continuing to drag up and down your spine. It’s strange to be touched with such affection; such reverence. He hadn’t the words to quite sum up how he’d felt that night, but now, Sanemi realizes just how starved for intimacy he’d been. 

He hadn’t let himself do this with the others – quietly lay in bed, letting hands roam for something other than lust as he breathed them in. Relax. This is a side of him for your eyes only; a byproduct of him now being yours. 

Besides, why shouldn’t he relax? He’s home. Because home, as he’s come to realize, is not some dingy box in the SIlo or even some place far, far away from the Corps and everyone in it. 

Home is a woman he’d known for most of his life, yet not at all, not until the universe forced him back into your orbit. Home is your fingers twitching against his chest, still guided by the compulsion to touch him with the same gentleness he shares with you; the warmth of your body curled around his. 

Home is wherever you are. 

REBLOGS, COMMENTS, AND LIKES APPRECIATED!

[supernovae-never-burn-alone]

— "COGITO ERGO SUM," POINE; I THINK, THEREFORE I AM.

So uhm. Bet you thought we forgot about this blog!! Haha!! No!! We are reminded every day that we haven't posted anything and it is hell !!!!

BUT. Anywho. We've been practicing voicing some characters lately, and ended up taking inspiration from I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream, this in particular from the audio play. I swear we'll post refs... one day...... AENTROPUS HAS MULTIPLE SETS OF ARMS. I SWEAR. BUT I DIDNT WANNA EDIT THAT IN...

Anywho. Boy I sure wonder what Aentropus, the god of chaos, is referencing when it talks about chaos as a thing! It's sure a mystery and not at all a very thin metaphor for itself being fed up with being treated like a lesser being amongst its fellows! /s

Transcript below:

[A video featuring characters made in Gacha Life 2. In the top corner, there is a watermark crediting the author by two usernames: human-souls-buy-dopamine on tumblr and theatricallythrilling on YouTube.

A character (Aentropus) slides into view from the right of the screen, holding a hand up as if to chime in to some interaction. It doesn't have a human head, instead having a black sphere with a gradient around the edges. Its face is purely white outlines for the eyes and mouth, and it almost never seems to stop smiling a shark-tooth grin. Despite this, its frustration is evident. When it speaks, the dialog is written on screen in orange, using the stereofidelic font.

It starts off by saying "In case you've forgotten, my dearly detested," exaggerating the word 'in'. It looks strained to keep the smile up. At 'dearly detested,' it briefly moves off screen, and another character, Poine, moves in.

After Poine moves off-screen once again, and Aentropus back on-screen, it continues, saying "you cannot simply will chaos out of existence." It pauses at 'simply,' dragging on for a short moment and looking away as if considering what the right word would be. Near the end of the sentence, it crosses its arms, closing its eyes as if readying itself to continue speaking.

Aentropus continues, saying "You must either embrace it, or succumb to it." It says this as it is walking off-screen to the left, suddenly looking more serious than before. There is a brief pause between 'embrace it' and the word 'or' for dramatic effect. During this sequence, the instrumental beginning of the song Alien Blues fades in, providing music.

Two solid-color figures, Poine and Aentropus, fade in behind the subtitles around the second half of the sentence. Poine is a muted, light blue color, and Aentropus is a vivid orange. Aentropus emphasizes the previous point, saying "there is no in-between." Poine and Aentropus's sillhouettes fade out as it goes on.

It further elaborates, saying "You cannot ignore it, you cannot pretend that it does not exist, that it is not there—". The first statement is accompanied by Poine sliding into view from the bottom of the screen upwards, and the last is accompanied by Aentropus sliding in much the same, except from the top. They are glaring at eachother, Aentropus squinting heavily.

Both graphics as well as the caption fade out as there is a pause in both dialog and music. After the brief silence, Aentropus speaks once more, the captions being larger and now in the center of the screen.

It says "cogito ergo sum, Poine; I think, therefore I am." There are quotes around the latin, and the words appear as they are spoken. After the first four words, the rest appear individually (with the exception of "i am"), and the word 'therefore' is split into two syllables for dramatic effect. As it says "I think, therefore I am," Aentropus's tone becomes much more serious, and it becomes deeper and less accented. The text gradually begins to shake and become a brighter, reddish-orange.

The text fades out shortly afterward, followed by the first few lyrics of Alien Blues as the song resumes. The screen fades to black, and credits fade in before fading out again near the end. The music slowly goes to silence over time.

The credits attribute editing, voiceover, characters, and writing to The Theatrix System. The song used is credited, including the artist, Vundabar. It is noted that the video was inspired by AM's (in all caps) "cogito ergo sum" dialog in I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream, clarifying in parentheses that it is specifically the audio play.

End transcript.]

[udretlnea]

This All Feels Surreal

100 Follower Event Prize for Winner #1: @otoritoritori​

“One day, our encounter at this moment shall shine like a star of reminiscence in our hearts.”

Word count: 2.3 k

You observed the characters on your screen as you all struggled to fight the difficult enemies.  Barbara, Nilou, and Yunjin were doing their best while you were playing Xinyan at level 90 with max talents and a Wolf’s Gravestone.

You press the button for your Elemental Burst and immediately see multiple orange-colored five digits. Then, the words “Domain Cleared” appeared. 

At this point you get the rewards, leave the domain, accept the lower AR players’ gratitude, and then leave. You realize that you’ve run out of resin and log out; no point in playing any more than you needed to. You stand up, briefly stretching, before heading out. Today was a practice day: and for a young musician like yourself that meant playing the guitar for two hours with breaks in between.

You unceremoniously enter the music room filled with instruments you were familiar with; the one you regularly practiced with was already next to the chair. With a pleased sigh, you pick up your guitar. You run a hand on the strings rather slowly, appreciating how they felt, and sit down. You position your fingers and prepare to strum a song you’ve been practicing.

Suddenly, you hear something loud crash somewhere inside your house. You immediately freeze. You listen carefully, and, to your confusion, it sounds like a person-no, multiple people. 

Oh great, you think to yourself.  Just what I needed today. An attempted break-in. 

You stand up and swing your guitar over your shoulder as if it were a club; if there was one thing these intruders were going to take, it was a mean clubbing to the head!

…I give that one-liner a 7.5/10. You creep slowly towards where you thought was the source. If you were correct it was coming from your office/bedroom. You waited beside the door with your ear pushed against the door. You could just make out snippets of a conversation:

“Strange…this is not my room in the church?” A female with a light, airy voice asked.

“This isn’t Zubayr Theater…! Huh, who are you two?” says another one.

“My head is spinning…where am I? Is that you Xinyan?” says someone else with a dainty and refined voice.

“Huh? Yunjin? What’re you doin’ here?” says a fourth with what sounded like a…cowgirl accent?

Judging from the way they spoke they were most likely confused and had no idea what they were doing. It sounded like the perfect opportunity to get the jump on them.

Okay. Here goes, on the count of three.

One… You put your hand on the doorknob.

Two… You bend your knees and get ready to sprint in.

Three! In one swift motion, you open the door and scream at the top of your lungs; you dash in and prepare to wack these intruders when it happens.

Everything seems to move in slow-motion; your movements become sluggish as you feast your eyes on your intruders. One of them wore an outfit that looked vaguely church-related and had blonde hair. The second had something one would find in a theater play, at least that’s what it felt like, and had long jet-black hair. The third had dark brown hair with red streaks done in pigtails. Finally, a redhead with horns dressed in vague dancer attire.

Your eyes scanned their forms in the span of half a second and you realized something: they look exactly like those four characters from Genshin Impact, as in the ones you last saw before logging out.

You freeze mid-swing, which you realized was a good thing when you saw the blade attached to the guitar Pigtails had in her hand. 

The four of you are unmoving as you observe each other. Then, as if an unspoken command passed between you two, slowly lowered your arms. You lick your lips and open your mouth to say something.

“What the heck?”

////

“So let me get this straight,” you start pouring tea into Yun Jin’s cup. “You guys started having dreams about my world and the next thing you know all four of you appear in my room with no rational explanation?”

“That’s…about it. I know how strange that must sound, but it’s true,” said Barbara. You held a hand up disarmingly.

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you. I’m just trying to wrap my head around this.” You pour tea into Barbara’s cup next. The Deaconess gives a thankful nod.

“This all feels surreal,” Nilou chimes in. She takes a sip 

“So, what did you say your name was again? I kinda forgot it after the part where you asked us to join you for tea,” Xinyan said abashedly. You merely look into Xinyan’s eyes and smile sweetly as you pour her tea.

“Y/N.” Xinyan blinked and quickly looked away. You moved onto your cup now, completely ignorant of how the Liyue guitarist was hiding the small blush on her face.

“Thank you for your hospitality Y/N. I believe I speak for all of us here when I say you have our sincerest gratitude,” Yunjin said sincerely.

“Yes, thank you,” said Barbara.

“Thank you for the tea Y/N. Where did you get it?” asked Nilou. 

“It’s just from my uncle’s collection. Nothing fancy I’m afraid. I’m not well-versed in tea so I’m not sure if it’s to your individual tastes.”

“It’s alright. Although I’m not familiar with this flavor, the scent of berries and apples is a general favorite in Liyue,” Yunjin says conversationally.

“I can’t help but agree. Even though I haven’t tried tea before, I find this really appealing. Thank you truly Y/N.”

“It’s…you’re welcome.” You figure it was a lucky shot that you picked something vanilla. Oh well, small mercies and all that. 

“Hey Y/N, do you play guitar?” Xinyan steers the conversation away from tea. 

“Yes, I do. It gives me something to do while I wait here by myself.”

“You live here alone?” Barbara asks curiously, but not out of insensitivity.

“No, I live here with my uncle. He’s currently out at work. He’s nice, though. He mentors me when he has the time and we watch corny movies together.”

“Oh, are…your parents not around?” Nilou asks delicately.

“Mother and father are running their company overseas,” you say with a hint of bitterness in your voice. “Anyway, it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“So they just left you here with your uncle? Are you alright? Ah! I’m sorry if that offended you, I was just curious, really!” 

You put on an easy smile and shrug, trying to put on an air of nonchalance. Internally you cringed at the mention of them. “It’s alright Nilou. My parents…did not wish for me to suffer from moving around so much. At least, that’s what they told me. I’ve stopped thinking about it. They always make it back for my birthday if there's a silver lining. They try to be there, and I appreciate them for that.” 

The air isn’t as filled with as much tension from such an intimate topic. You drink your tea. 

“Hey Y/N, could I ask more about your guitar?” Xinyan leans forward and rests a hand on her cheek. 

“Hm? Oh, sure. What do you want to know?”

“Well, do you like rock & roll?” You take a moment to ponder the question. 

“It’s fun, I think. It’s not something I usually play on my guitar, but I do listen to it sometimes on the-er…I listen to it sometimes. Yeah.” You feel your gut twist up. Having to explain your “modern” devices to them would be difficult since their world hasn’t invented them. Best to avoid that conversation for as long as possible.

“Alright then. In that case, could I maybe share a song with you? If you’d like to hear one, I mean.”

“Maybe later. I need to keep up with my practice for my recital.”

“You…there are recitals for guitars? I didn’t know your music world was so inclusive for different instruments.” Yunjin puts a finger to her chin.

“Then…is there anything we can do in the meantime?” Nilou rubbed the rim of her teacup thoughtfully. “I don’t mean to intrude on your life Y/N, but I just feel so energized I can’t imagine myself sitting still.”

“I know what you mean, Miss Nilou. The idea of going out and exploring this world is exciting, to say the least,” Yunjin says.

“I’m not sure if that’s ideal. It would be safer if you all were eased into how things are. Hm, let me think.” In reality, your mind already presented a solution. You try to imagine anything else, but nothing comes to mind. Ugh. Fine. I may as well rip the figurative band-aid off. “Come to think of it, I believe that I have a solution that may satisfy the four of you.”

You felt four pairs of eyes stare at you inquisitively.

///

“You mean to tell me that there are musicians in your world that play each of our nations’ music?” Barbara asks incredulously. All of you were in the living room sitting on the couch; the three young ladies had a separate device in their hands playing their respective music genres.

“To think that opera here would be as similar to how the troupe performs is astounding! I guess there are some things that remain constant even in other worlds,” said Yunjin.

“Oh my, looking at these movements…suddenly I feel inspired to practice with these techniques! They’re like [insert simile here]”

“Looking at these idols perform is…enlightening? I could learn so much just from observing them.”

“So, er, why don’t I have one of your fancy gadgets?” Xinyan asked you. 

“Well, forgive me for being so sudden, but could I ask that you teach me what you know in playing  guitar?”

The spiky guitarist blinked. Then she let out a dry chuckle. “Su-sure!”

“I look forward to it,” you say. You turn and gesture for her to follow you. “We’ll be in the room nearby, so if any of you three need anything just holler!”

You were back inside the music room. Your guitar was resting on the chair next to it. You sling it over your head, opting to stand up. “I guess we’ll get started. Do you think you can watch me and try to point out any potential flaws?”

“Sure can.” You play a short melody. It was a basic one that even amateurs could do. You deftly switch your fingers every time you play another chord. Once you’ve finished, you look up and see Xinyan thoughtfully staring at the ground.

“Hmm, so far so good. I couldn’t help but notice that your hands are distanced an awful way from each other. Also, when you shift your fingers you kind of…well, inefficiently?”

“How so?” She scratches her head and arrives at an answer, judging by how her eyes widen in earnest. 

“Do you mind if I showed it to you?” You nod. She walks behind you. Xinyan takes your hands in hers and readjusts them, positioning them until they comfortably hug the guitar neck and body. She continued monologuing.

“Usually with my guitar I have to make sure I’m lifting it so that I won’t accidentally drop it. But with that guitar strap on you can just focus on switching chords. I noticed you’re raising the guitar neck higher than usual,” she explains as she leans in closer. “Done! What do you think, is it better?”

Your eyes couldn’t help but meet each other when they were this close. You stare into her amber eyes; she stares into yours. The moment passes one second too long. You felt your face heat up and quickly look away. 

“Yep. Better.”

Behind you, Xinyan makes a noise. You hear her mutter something, but you can only make out, ‘Boundaries Xinyan!’. She clears her throat. “Right. Shall we continue?”

You push down the embarrassment. “Yes. Let’s.”

You both continue practicing the guitar. A couple hours pass, and despite your fingers hurting like hell after it’s over, you can’t say you didn’t enjoy it. A glance at the window reveals that it was currently noon; at that moment your stomach grumbled. 

You look at Xinyan. “Huh, wanna take a break?” 

“Yeah, I’m starvin’! I guess this practice took a lot out of us huh?”

So, you two went and gathered the rest of the group; Barbara offered to help cook when you mentioned the idea of lunch.

“If we’re going to eat, then how about I pitch in and help? Consider it as my way of showing thanks for not kicking me out,” said Yunjin with a wink. 

“You’ve introduced me to this amazing new world. It feels like I’m a newly-born Anemo Slime, being carried by the wind to parts unknown. You’ve done a lot for me already, so the least I can do is make you something tasty,” Nilou said sincerely. 

I…guess when they put it like that, I have no choice but to accept right? You casually put your hands in your pockets. “So long as I get to help, then I’m alright with it.”

Soon, the kitchen was filled with various wonderful scents. Barbara and Xinyan occupied the stove while Yunjin and Nilou occupied the countertop; you helped where you could by bringing in ingredients or cooking utensils, but the four of them knew what they were doing. At last, the table was filled with delectable dishes. Food from Mondstadt, Liyue, and Sumeru made you salivate. After setting the table up you all dig in. 

While observing the people around you and listening to the four of them share experiences as performers, you feel a strange warmth envelop you. You can’t help but feel just a little more complete.

[aadagio]

Thursday was The Day!! I finally did it, I went skydiving!!

I had to wake up early to get ready and eat breakfast, and me and Craig left the house at around 10:30 am. There are no places to jump in Austin proper, since it’s a major city, so we drove about an hour out to this place called Fentress, sort of out near San Marcos. The place was called Skydive Spaceland and it was way out in the sticks, down a long gravel road with a bunch of RVs parked out front. They have a huge sign with a photo of someone jumping out of a plane where you’re supposed to turn, along with a crashed plane poised like it took a nosedive into the earth.

The drive out there was really smooth, we just took the highway and listened to music the whole time. The sky had this haze to it, though, almost like a thin smog that was slightly blurring out things in the distance. Craig wondered at one point if that would affect my ability to jump that day, but no one at SS ever mentioned anything about it once we arrived, so I guess it was considered fine jumping weather.

We parked 10 minutes before noon, and headed inside so I could check in. I had already filled out all the waivers online — it was a multi-page document that basically tells you to accept the fact that you could very much die while doing this, and that if you do die, or just sustain any injury in general, you can’t sue SS. Honestly, death has really never felt like a concern for me when it comes to this. Like I know in the back of my mind that it’s obviously possible and that skydiving is risky, but I’ve just wanted to do it for so long that the risk hasn’t ever concerned me. But filling out all the paperwork beforehand made checking in go a lot faster, which was nice.

I had ordered an add-on package where they have a videographer jump with you and you receive a flash drive with your skydive video and about 100 photos from your jump afterward. So all I had to do at check-in was show ID and then fill out a form specifying how I wanted my jump video to be edited. They have these sort of generic royalty-free music options like techno, country and R&B that you can choose from, and I chose classic rock since it seemed the least grating of all the options.

I was given a nametag with my name and group number on it to stick to my shirt. After that they told me to just chill out in the lobby while they waited for the rest of my group to check in, and they'd call my group number when it was time to go and watch the safety videos.

The lobby was basically just this large room with several booth tables lined along the walls, which were covered in multiple large posters depicting tandem and solo skydivers screaming and laughing for the camera. There were also three large flat screen TVs mounted around the room, running constant footage of skydivers. There were a lot of clips of groups jumping together and holding hands mid-air to form these huge circle formations in the sky, as well as videos of tandem jumpers making their first dives. They also had lots of board games, cards, and skydiving magazines and books scattered across every table. It was all very themed -- everywhere you turned, there was skydiving.

I woke up pretty gently on Thursday morning, which I was really grateful for, because I have a habit of jerking or startling awake most mornings and that usually results in a panicked feeling to begin my day with, which I hate. And especially after all the other stress that was building and building for a week leading up to this day, I was so glad to just be able to wake up calmly and get ready for this thing that I've been looking forward to for such a long time now. I felt really calm all during the drive out to SS, and I was maintaining that calm really well up until we watched the safety videos.

After sitting together in a booth for about 10 minutes, they called my group number and told us to head upstairs to watch the videos. I thought that would be the last time I'd see Craig until after I'd finished my jump, so I was trying to hug him goodbye, but the staff member calling us up said that it was just videos, and he could come and watch them with us if he wanted. So me, Craig, and this one other girl went upstairs and sat in this big room with one large flat screen in the center of the far wall, and about 20 or so folding chairs strewn about. The staff member clicked play on the TV, told us to just head back downstairs when we were done, and left.

The first video was one I'd already watched online, where Bill Booth, the inventor of the tandem skydiving harness, basically tells you once again that you could very much die while doing this, and that you are accepting that risk and signing all your rights away. Since I'd already seen it before, it didn't really psych me out, but the next video was different. This one was shot at Skydiving Spaceland, specifically to show to their students, and it basically talked about how SS is a skydiving school, so every jump you take with them can count toward getting certified, if that's something you want to do. Then it walked us through how we'd put on all our gear later, as well as how we'd board the plane, how we'd exit the plane, and how we'd need to position our bodies and limbs throughout the entire experience. The video finished by saying that they wanted us to take an active part in our jump that day, by pulling the cord to deploy the parachute, as well as take the reigns to steer the chute on our way back down to the ground.

Honestly, that was the part that finally got me to freak out. I read their website top to bottom while I was plotting out where and when I wanted to schedule this jump, and there was absolutely nothing on it that said we'd need to be in charge of any of that! I thought I was just there to enjoy the ride. So when the video started going into how we would be expected to be more active participants, my heart rate started speeding up rapidly, and I started feeling nervous for the first time. But I just tried to tell myself, "Ok, surely the instructors will go over this in more detail once you suit up, it'll be fine, just listen to what your instructor tells you."

After the last video wrapped up, I think I finally "woke up" a bit more and realized that it was literally just me, Craig, and this one other young girl in the room, and so I leaned over to introduce myself to her. She said her name was Hope and we both talked about how we were surprised that we were the only ones tandem jumping that day as we walked back downstairs.

Hope was there with her mom, so she went back to her booth to sit with her, and Craig and I went to another booth to wait for our names to be called so we could suit up. They had a smaller TV mounted near the front door in the lobby with a list of all the tandem jumpers and their instructor and videographer's (if they had one) names, as well as the wait time for when we'd be called. When we got downstairs, it said we had 25 minutes to wait, so I settled in with Craig to flip through skydiving books and try to keep calm.

At this point, every time I looked up and saw footage of people jumping out of planes on the TVs, I could feel my heart race and it just made me so nervous to watch. It was just all starting to feel very very real. So I had to force myself to keep my head down and focus on what was on the table in front of me, but after awhile of flipping through photos of barefoot skydivers doing crazy trickshots for the camera, I realized that looking at anything skydiving-related was just making my nerves worse. Several of the videos playing on the TVs had this macho-type copy pasted over them, with things like, "The hero and the coward both feel the same fear, but it's what they do with it that matters." and advertisements for their video packages that said stuff like, "If you don't record it, did it even happen?'

At one point, Craig pointed up to the TV that was mounted in the corner over my shoulder, and I turned around to see a compilation of fluffy baby Highland cows playing for some random reason. It was the first truly relaxing, sweet thing I'd seen all day, so I watched that for 5 minutes until the screen went back to playing skydiving clips. (After all of this, I can definitely say that I think they should stick to playing 100% fluffy cow clips in the lobby at all times -- those are sooo much more relaxing to watch before you jump than skydiving footage!)

About 15 minutes in to our wait, the name screen updated and bumped our wait time up to 40 minutes, so I had to be even more vigilant about distracting myself. Craig kept flipping through this skydiving photography book, but I focused on my phone and just kept scrolling Insta and Twitter trying to keep my mind off jumping. During the whole wait I also found myself getting up to go pee a lot. I've always been a nervous pee-er, like before any big event - graduation, concerts, flights, presentations, job interviews - I have to pee 3 times beforehand. But I guess my body was in nerve-overload or something because I think I literally got up to use the restroom like 6 times during our wait.

At another point, Craig suggested we go outside for a few minutes, and we went down the hallway past the gear room, the restrooms, and through this set of double doors out into the observation area that was set up for friends and family to watch jumpers land. The observation area was a gravel-filled stretch with a large white pop-up shade tent off to the left, and several wooden picnic tables. It was surrounded by a white fence and several signs warning not to go into the drop zone beyond, which was just a huge sprawl of grassy land where we could see several solo jumpers coming down to the ground. These people obviously had way more experience than me, because they were steering themselves into sharp turns just a couple dozen feet from the ground, and one guy even moonwalked his way to a light, standing landing on the grass. It was very impressive, but also not helping my nervousness at all, so after only a few minutes, I asked if we could go back inside.

Eventually, a tall burly man in jeans and a tan button-down shirt came out of the gear room that was off the side of the lobby and called my name. And this was when things started to go pretty quickly. I got up, hugged Craig and kissed the top of his head, told him I'd see him back on the ground, and then followed this guy into the gear room. He introduced himself as Joe, and said he was my skydiving instructor and that we'd be jumping together today.

We walked over to a rack full of brightly colored jumpsuits and after looking me up and down, he pulled a royal blue one off the hanger and handed it to me to put on. I noticed Hope being handed a hot pink one, and we both went over to these benches that lined the room to sit down, pull our shoes off, and step into our jumpsuits. The SS website had said to just wear comfortable, casual but form-fitting clothing and close-toed shoes to jump, so I showed up in bike shorts and an Iron Maiden T-shirt. The jumpsuit fit pretty tightly over me, but I zipped it up, put my shoes back on, and then walked back over to Joe in the center of the room.

There were 4 jumpers in there, myself included, and their respective instructors, and each instructor was in the process of harnessing and talking to their student. It felt very focused, like there was no group huddle or team lesson, it was just 4 pairs of people, each pair intently focused on one another. When I got up to Joe, he held up the pointer finger of his left hand and said, "Do you know why Taylor Swift never plays with this finger?" And I said, "No, why?" and he replied, "Because it's MY finger!" Which made me laugh.

He then started strapping a digital altimeter to my left hand, which is a device that tells you your altitude while you're in the sky. It sort of fits over your hand, held in place by a wrist strap and a loop that goes over your pointer finger. He also had a tandem harness ready to go for me, laid on the floor, and told me to step into the thigh loops and he'd take care of the rest. So I did, and then he pulled the whole thing up and started strapping me in and adjusting things. I had the thigh straps, a stomach strap, a chest strap, and a pair of straps for my arms to go into. The whole thing came together at the back, and there were 4 clips back there for me to be attached to Joe with later before we jumped together.

As he was strapping me in, he started to tell me about exactly how we'd be jumping together. He said, "Now when we exit the plane, you're going to put your butt on the floor and slide your legs out, and then I'll have you arch your back, put your head back against my right shoulder, and when you're arched enough, we'll jump out." And all of that was pretty much entirely different from the way that the safety video had told us we'd be positioned to get out of the plane. So I immediately asked, "So NOT like how the video said?" And he was like, "Yeah, not like how the video said." And so I pretty quickly realized that Joe had his own method that he wanted to follow to do this thing, and that the video, while informational, was not going to be the one strapped to me in freefall later on. I started to hit me that it would literally just be me and him, so I felt like I should just listen to whatever instructions he gave me and follow exactly those.

So he went over how we'd exit again, and then he asked if the harness was comfortable once he'd finished strapping me in. And I was like, ""Is it supposed to be comfortable?" because I was perfectly willing to be in discomfort if it meant I'd be safe, but he said it should be about as comfortable as a harness can be, which I suppose it was. Then he asked me if I wanted to pull the parachute cord later or not, and I kinda paused and eventually just spit out, "Uh ... not really!" And he was very nice about it. He just said, "It's your first jump, that's totally fine, you just let me do everything, sister, and you enjoy the ride." Which was 100% perfectly fine with me!!

At one point he asked me if there was a special reason I was jumping that day, and I said that I was turning 30 on Sunday, and he said, "I turned 30 once ... in 2008!" And I wasn't in a headspace to do the math at the time, but I did later and realized that Joe was probably 45, which he did not look. Like yes, he had his head shaved bald, but he just looked so much younger than that. I also didn't fully notice this at the time, but Craig pointed it out to me later -- all of the other instructors and skydivers at SS all had this "look" about them. It was like they'd all very much bought into the sport and the lifestyle, and they were all wearing brightly colored camo-print microfiber shirts, cargo pants, chrome wraparound sunglasses, rubber sport bracelets, bandanas on their heads, ect. And Joe literally just looked like he could be going to a BBQ or something after our jump, which, in hindsight is pretty funny.

But after I was completely suited up and ready to go, another man walked into the room - he was shorter than me, had chin-length black hair with a little grey in it, and was wearing a black jumpsuit. He introduced himself as Yoshi, and said he would be my videographer for the day. He led me out of the gear room and outside the same double doors that me and Craig had gone through earlier, and took me left past the perimeter of the observation area, over to a smaller shade tent right outside the plane hangar. I noticed on our walk over that moving with the jumpsuit and the harness on was not easy. It felt a little like what I imagine walking around in a space suit on Earth would feel like - just very heavy, a lot of resistance, and hard to raise my legs very much.

Yoshi had a GoPro for recording video, and he was holding a helmet that had a much larger camera attached to the top that I guessed would be for taking photos in the sky. He had me walk out into the field beside the hangar and started shooting the intro of my skydiving video. He asked me some pretty generic questions -- what I was there for (my birthday), how many feet high we would be going into the sky (14,000), how fast we would be falling through the air (120 mph), at what altitude we'd pull our parachutes (6,000 ft), and if I had anything else I wanted to add (not really, I was so focused on not psyching myself out, and remembering all of Joe's instructions that I couldn't think of much to say!). Then he took a few photos of me on the ground, and said that all there was to do now was wait for the rest of the group to gather and then we'd board the plane.

He told me I could sit under the shade tent, or I could follow him into the hangar and sit in front of this giant drum fan that was positioned on the floor near some chairs. Since it was about 100 degrees and humid as hell outside, I opted to sit with him in front of the fan. He told me that we'd be going up with a full load for our jump, and he estimated we'd have about 30-33 people in the plane altogether. A few of the other jumpers came over to where we were sitting, just milling about and talking to each other, completely paying me and Yoshi no mind. They all had that "look" I mentioned earlier, and seemed very focused on whatever they were doing, not having any interest in talking to tandem jumpers. I noticed that several of them were wearing beaded friendship bracelets with letter beads on them, and I wanted to ask them if they were Swifties or what that was about, but like I said they all seemed so in their own zone that I felt too intimidated to bother any of them. At one point, a guy in a electric yellow, neon green and hot pink camo wingsuit walked up to the group to sit in front of the fan, and I was so impressed by the design of his suit but once again felt way too intimidated to say anything.

Luckily, Yoshi was chatty, and he asked me where I was from and we got to talking. I found out that he was from Japan originally, but moved to California when he was 20 and that's when he started skydiving, and now he lived in Austin and worked at Skydive Spaceland. Through what he said, I was later able to figure out that he was probably 55 or so, which again, seemed a little wild to me, because he really did not seem that old. I've developed a theory after this whole experience that regular skydiving must keep you young or something.

But anyway, we talked to each other for awhile, and he told me that he would hold his hand out for me to take while we were in the sky for a photo, but that I needed to make sure to let go of it so he could keep doing his job up there. I also brought up to him how I'd read online that some people get addicted to the feeling of skydiving and get certified so they can keep doing it all the time. And he said yeah, that's what happened to him, but some people wind up trying it and don't like it at all. I kept this next part to myself, but I didn't think I would be one of the people who didn't like it, but I'd also told myself after booking my jump that I would NOT allow myself to get sold on further jumps even if I wound up completely loving it, because just doing this one was already expensive enough.

After some time had passed, the solo jumpers who had been milling about near the fan got up and headed outside, so me and Yoshi stood up as well and went back out to the shade tent where there was quite a big group gathered at that point. I saw Hope again, and her instructor and videographer, as well as the two other tandem jumpers who had been in the gear room with us and their instructors. Everyone else was going solo, and I realized at this point that Hope and I were the only women in the entire group.

I went over to Hope and asked her if she was there for her birthday, since Yoshi had made it seem like that was why a lot of people came through, and she said yeah, that her birthday was that day. She didn't say which one it was, but she looked maybe 18-21? Couldn't have been older than that. I told her happy birthday and that I was there for my 30th, and then she told me that I did not look 30, which I'll admit was nice to hear.

At that point, Joe found me again and told me that we were about to board the plane and that I'd need to duck my head a lot as we got in, since the clearance was low. The propeller was already going, so it was really loud and windy as I followed him up the stairs into the plane, with Yoshi filming the whole thing. I really don't know anything about planes, but this one was very small, at least to me - definitely the smallest aircraft I've ever been in. I was shocked once we got inside, because all that was in there were two very thin benches covered in a thin black foam padding. Joe immediately turned back to face me, sat down straddling the bench, and then started scooting back toward the back of the plane where several people were already sitting. I followed suit, straddling the bench and backing up until my back was to Joe's front, and then watched as Yoshi and everyone else in the group proceeded to do the same. I was worried about squishing Joe, but as more people got onto the plane, we kept having to scoot back as much as we could, which wasn't much to begin with.

Once everyone was on, a guy at the front of the plane closed the door, which was less of a regular plane door and more of a garage door the slid up and down. And almost immediately after it was closed, the plane started moving. It jerked forward, and I quickly realized that there was absolutely nothing to hold onto in there. There were no grab handles overhead like in a car, no arm rests, you couldn't even use your thighs to brace yourself on the bench under you because we were packed in so tightly. I didn't want to grab onto Yoshi in front of me because I didn't think that was polite, I didn't want to startle him, and also it was really loud in there and hard to hear, so I knew I wouldn't be able to communicate well. We left the ground very quickly, and then began the longest part of the entire journey - the 15 minute ride up to 14,000 feet.

I spent all of that ride using my left hand to brace myself by just holding it against the side of the plane next to me, and then holding my right hand in a tight fist. I alternated at several points, sometimes clenching both fists, sometimes clasping my hands together, sometimes opening and closing one or both of my hands. Through it all I just kept trying my best to take deep breaths and stay calm. I kept thinking to myself, "This is it, this is the thing you've wanted for so long, and now you're finally doing it!"

At a few points, I turned to look around at everyone else in the plane -Hope was to my right, a few people back, and we'd smile at each other every so often, and then everyone else was mostly just preoccupied with adjusting their suits or fiddling with their neck gaiter or the helmet. I think every single one of the solo jumpers had helmets, and a lot of them were covered in stickers and had GoPros attached to the top of them. Yoshi took his camera and held it out in front of him at one point to snap some pictures of me and Joe inside the plane, and I noticed Hope's videographer do the same. I really wasn't looking out the window much ... I don't know, I just didn't feel like that was something I wanted to do a lot of since I guess I figured I'd be seeing the view from a much more unique vantage point soon enough, but I noticed Yoshi putting his GoPro to the window a few times to get some footage.

Pretty early into the flight up, I turned to Joe and started going over all his instructions, trying to confirm that I had everything right, and he just told me, "Don't overthink it." But as we got higher and higher, he leaned closer and started repeating his directions and reiterating what we'd do to exit the plane. Toward the end of the journey, he told me he'd be clipping us together and pulling the harness tighter, and he was not kidding about tighter. He scooted me closer back against him and I could feel when he attached the clips at my shoulders to his harness. One leg at a time, he pulled my thigh straps really tight, and then he put a pair of goggles over my eyes and had me turn my head left and right to adjust them.

It was so very hot inside the plane the entire ride, and I could feel sweat pooling on my face, and my bangs sticking to my forehead as we ascended. But eventually, when we finally reached 14,000 feet, one of the guys at the front of the plane moved position and hoisted up the door, and suddenly this very cold, never-ending gust of wind came rushing into the plane. Shortly after that, guys started jumping out of the plane one by one. I'm honestly not sure how to describe what was going through my head at this point. Like, I was using my eyes and I was aware that people were jumping out of the plane. I could see clouds through the doorway. I could feel the wind on my face. I could feel myself putting my hands into the loops at the front of my shoulder straps, where Joe had told me to put them. Things were happening. But I really could not tell you what I was thinking. It was so weird. I wasn't thinking words, I wasn't thinking about fear or anything, I wasn't scared, exactly. It was more like, "Okay, this is happening. It's going to happen, get ready. You're going to do The Thing." But it wasn't even processing as words, just as a feeling.

And then all of a sudden, Yoshi was getting up and positioning himself at the door of the plane, and Joe was using his legs to crab walk us forward on the bench. With how securely I was harnessed to him at that point, I really couldn't do much, but I just moved my legs as best I could so he could manage to get us to the end of the bench and the onto the plane floor. I'm really not sure how I made it happen, looking back, but I sat myself on the floor and I think Joe was really the one who got us scooted toward the doorway so my legs were hanging out of the lip of the plane. And then I could feel him guide my head back onto his right shoulder, and he kind of rocked us a few times to get some momentum to jump out, and then HE JUMPED.

Now, everything I read online leading up to this experience said that the scariest part of skydiving is that last second before you jump out of the plane. The internet said that if you can overcome that fear and jump out, then you're gonna be golden. But that was not the case for me at all. For me, the absolute scariest part of the whole thing was that first single second after we had left the plane. I could see the hazy blue cloudy sky, and then I could see the ground, so far away from us that it just looked like a green patchwork quilt, dotted with tiny little trees and houses. And in that moment, we had no parachutes above us, no safety net below us, nothing slowing us down or blocking our fall -- we were literally just free falling through the sky.

In that first second, I felt this reaction from my body that I've never felt before. It felt like my whole body was trying to tense up because it realized, "Oh my god, we are NOT!!! supposed to be doing this!!!!" But then I just WAS, and extremely quickly my concerns shifted. I took one slow, involuntary blink, and then things started happening. After that first second, my overwhelming feeling was realizing that my ears fucking hurt. Immediately after we left the plane, I was hit with this severe ear pain unlike anything else I've ever felt. I looked it up after I got home, and apparently the tubes inside of our ears that regulate pressure and help us balance, can't really calibrate fast enough anymore once you throw yourself into 120 mph freefall, and that leads to sharp, intense, pressurized ear pain during your jump. So that was the first major feeling that hit me right away - pain.

And then very quickly after I realized how much my ears hurt, I also realized that I couldn't fucking breathe. Now Joe had told me while we were suiting up that if I felt like I couldn't breathe once we jumped, I just needed to scream, because I was holding my breath. After we jumped out, we went from kinda falling on our sides to being sprawled flat, back to the sun, parallel to the ground. And I could feel myself take about half a breath when we first entered that position, and then I couldn't breathe anymore. So, I tried to scream. And that did not help in the slightest. I still wasn't able to draw breath in through my nose. And all of this was happening so, so quickly, and I was watching Yoshi come into view with his camera helmet, and I was feeling Joe take my hands off of the loops in my harness and stretch them out beside me, and I was looking directly down at the green patchwork quilt beneath us, instead of up and out at the sky like I was supposed to be doing, and I was also realizing that I couldn't fucking breathe. And I just sort of told myself, in the span of another second or two, "If you can't breathe for the rest of this, then that's fine. It's not going to last forever. If you can't breathe, then you can't breathe. It's fine."

And then Yoshi was in front of me in the air. He was motioning with his hands, like kind of paddling them in the air, and I think now that he was trying to signal to me to move my hands around and emote so that he could snap pictures, but I was genuinely so overwhelmed by everything that was happening that I could barely function, so at first I just took my hands and kind of doggie paddled them in front of myself. But then I got it together, realized I needed to smile for the camera, and managed to position my hands into half-way decent thumbs ups, and then into solid rock horns, and forced myself to smile as wide as I could. It was actually more difficult than I thought it would be to smile -- I could literally feel my cheeks flapping in the wind since we were going so fast, which made control over my face really difficult. Then Yoshi held out his hand to me, and once again I was still so incredibly overwhelmed, that Joe literally had to grab my wrist and take my hand and put it into Yoshi's hand and then take it away, and to be honest, I wasn't even completely aware of him doing that until I saw the photos and videos of it afterward.

Really, the entire freefall aspect of it was just so overwhelming that I'm not fully sure of anything else that happened during it. I asked Joe while we were suiting up how much attention I would need to pay to my altimeter and he told me not to worry about it, and I don't remember looking at it once during the entire jump. But there are pictures I saw later of us where he is grabbing my wrist again and holding the altimeter in front of my face, and it looks like I'm looking at it -- but I literally don't remember doing that at all! Honestly, once we were out of that plane, I feel like every intention and thought I had going into the jump about what I wanted to do and how I wanted it to be just FLEW out of my brain completely and I was just doing the best I could with the circumstances!

And then before I knew it, Joe was pulling the parachute cord and we suddenly went from parallel to the ground to sitting upright, and I immediately could breathe properly and the pressure and pain in my ears lessened a little bit. I am SO freaking glad that I had someone else taking the reigns on that because I'm telling you, after everything I just described going through, there was no way in hell I would have been able to pull that cord at the right time.

But then there we were, sitting upright, falling significantly slower, gliding down really. I had put my hands back into my harness loops at that point, I think kind of involuntarily. And then I was able to actually look out and around at the sky and properly enjoy the sights, which was so nice. I remember having the thought in my head of, "Oh, this is what it looks like when you look out the window on a plane ride!" and then quickly following that up with, "BUT YOU'RE NOT IN A PLANE!!! YOU'RE JUST HANGING OUT IN THE SKY!!!!" So that was a trip.

I turned my head to the side to ask Joe if I could put my arms out, and he told me to hang on a minute, and I have to assume he was doing some steering or something with the parachute, and then he gave me permission to stick my arms out and THAT was the actual best part of the whole thing. I don't know if I can adequately describe the joy. I was thousands of feet up in the sky, my arms spread wide, wiggling my fingers in the breeze, looking all around me at the fluffy clouds and the horizon line in the distance, and just giggling and laughing and whooping and smiling so much, trying to open my eyes as wide as I could to take everything in. It was so fun and amazing. And, ironically, it was the one part of the entire journey that was not captured on film! I assume Yoshi was preoccupied with pulling his own chute and landing safely, so there are no photos or videos after a few quick shots of Joe pulling our parachute. The footage doesn't pick up again until we're just about to land. So all that amazingness and pure joy is only recorded in my head, just for me.

At a certain point as we were descending, Joe told me that he was going to loosen my thigh straps and get me situated in a different position -- this was information that he did not brief me on while we were on the ground, but at this point he had carried us safely through everything else, so I was just along for whatever he could have told me. He instructed me to pull my legs up and then wiggle my butt back, so that basically I would come into a more seated position, with the thigh straps holding my mid-thigh area up, instead of hanging out almost completely straight with the straps near my hips as we had been. I also had to put my hands back in my harness loops from this point on. But I did all that, and then Joe steered us into a spin in the air! That was really fun. He did another couple of turns, and I could finally see the drop zone come into clearer view. There was actually a giant orange arrow that they had built in one corner of the field, I guess to help jumpers know where to go.

Landing was actually extremely smooth -- Joe told me to pull my legs up as high as I could and point my feet toward the sky, and that we'd slide in on our butts. When you tandem jump, you want your instructors feet to hit the ground before yours do, and that's exactly what we did. It was so light, literally like sliding on a playground slide, but even slower. And then we were on the ground and there were two SS employees who had run up to us as we were coming down, and they moved to help Joe with the parachute as soon as we finished landing. I felt Joe unclip my harness from his, and then I turned and asked, "Was that a good landing? Did I do it right?" And he was just like, "Yeah, you're fine!" And then I was just kind of sitting there, feeling a bit dazed by it all.

I realized then that my legs felt very funny. And my ears still hurt so much. And I felt this sort of headrush feeling that I had never felt before, almost like the wind was still whooshing past my temples even though it wasn't anymore. Like a phantom wind, maybe. And then all of a sudden Yoshi was there with his camera, extending his hand out to help me stand up. And I was so grateful for it too, because I would not have been able to stand up on my own at that point. I think the first words out of my mouth to him were, "My legs feel weirdddd!" and he laughed. Then he asked me how I liked it and I said it was awesome, and he asked, "Would you do it again?" and I said, "I don't know" because I was worried if I said yes that he would try to sell me on a second jump and that would forever be memorialized on my skydiving video lol.

But then Joe was behind me again, this time standing up, and Yoshi was directing me to stand next to him for a photo, and my legs still felt so funny that I could barely function. But we took some photos together, giving a thumbs up and everything, and then Joe told me to walk back inside to the gear room and take my harness and jumpsuit off and he'd meet me in there. So I started walking toward the main building again, and that's when I finally saw Craig! He'd been watching from the observation area and waiting for me. And the first thing I did as soon as I got past the fence line was reach for him and give him the biggest hug. It felt so, so, so nice. Like seriously, I cannot recommend enough -- just hugging the person you love most in the world super tightly immediately after jumping out of a plane for the first time! Best feeling ever.

Craig had his phone out and he took some selfies of us after that, and that was when I realized just how windswept I looked -- my bangs had been completely blown back and my hair, which had been in a very tight, high ponytail before we jumped, had been blown halfway out of the pony due to the force of the wind on us.

I managed to walk myself back to the gear room on tingly, shaky legs, and I was so relieved to be able to sit down again on a bench to take everything off. That's when I met up with Hope again, and I was further relieved to realize that I wasn't the only one with sore ears. All the things I'd been feeling - tingly legs, sore ears, unable to breathe in freefall - she'd felt them all too! I was just glad to know I wasn't alone. Another one of the tandem jumpers came in while we were talking too and complained about his legs feeling funny as well, and that's when Joe came back in the room and I asked him if his legs also felt funny or if this was nothing to him and he said, "Yeah, I don't feel anything."

I looked it up online later, but apparently to become certified to be a tandem skydiving instructor, you have to complete at least 500 jumps. And it sounded like both he and Yoshi had been doing this for at least a couple of decades at this point, so I have to imagine the number of jumps he's done is in the thousands. And I guess after jumping out of a plane several thousand times, your body acclimates to all the overwhelming feelings! And at the end of the day, what I wanted out of this experience was to be strapped to someone who this was going to be a walk in the park for, so that worked out.

After I'd taken all my gear off and got my shoes back on and gone to the bathroom once again, I came back to the lobby area where I'd been instructed to wait. Joe eventually came out with a logbook for me, which SS gives to everyone so they can log their jumps if they decide they want to do more or go for a certification or something. It tracks things like the wind speed, equipment used, the aircraft flown, the maneuvers executed, the smoothness of your landing and the date of the jump. Joe filled the whole thing out for me and said I did a good job and wrote A+, which I feel pretty awesome about. Privately, I do not know if I really earned the A+, since he was literally doing all the work, but I'll take it.

After we'd filled that out, he told me I could book my second jump for $99 today only, and then said that a staff member would come out with my jump video and photos on a flash drive in about 10-15 minutes and that I could watch my video on one of the TVs in the lobby. And then I honestly don't know where he went after that, maybe to get ready for the next student or something, but Craig came and sat next to me and I just sort of tried to come down and recover from everything.

Seriously, I just felt so odd afterward. Like, when we landed and I was trying to stand up and everything, my body felt this strange sensation like, "Why are we standing? Why are we walking?? Shouldn't we just be flying everywhere now??" I guess it's sort of like how after you go roller skating, even after you take your skates off, your legs still feel this weird urge to skate instead of walking normally. It's so funny.

After waiting around for a little bit longer, a girl from the front desk came over and handed me my flash drive and said my video was about to play. So me and Craig, plus Hope and her mom, and a couple of other people who were sitting in the waiting area, all gathered around the TV to watch it. It's very weird to watch back something you just experienced right after experiencing it, but it was cool too because I was able to see more of what Joe and Yoshi were doing while I was freaking the fuck out in freefall. It was funny to see Craig's reactions to the footage as well, as I was describing what I was feeling during certain moments to him.

After that was done, it was almost 3 pm, and we headed back out to the car. My legs were still feeling so so weird and my ears were still hurting and my head still felt that strange whooshing sensation, but it wasn't as bad as it had been immediately after landing. Craig drove us to a BBQ place nearby and we had a very late lunch that I completely devoured. Turns out, skydiving makes you very very hungry. I also noticed myself developing a headache around this point too, which sucked, so I took 2 Advil with our food and that helped a lot. Getting food in my stomach and just being able to sit and rest for awhile really helped bring my body back down to Earth again, which was nice. I hadn't felt up to driving at all when we left SS, but after we ate I was able to get behind the wheel and drive us back to Austin. I will say though, driving feels sooo much more dangerous than skydiving, and statistically, it is, but I guess going skydiving really put that into perspective for me.

It's interesting, because I think a lot of people believe that skydiving is about facing your fears or overcoming something, and for me it wasn't really about that. I did feel scared when we jumped, but then I felt so many other things too! The whole experience wasn't just any one singular thing -- it was terrifying, it was exhilarating, it was painful, it was fun! It was a completely unique experience. I've never felt anything else like it. But at the same time, it didn't lead to any revelations or anything for me. I didn't find God up there. I didn't suddenly feel like all my other problems in life were so tiny. I didn't even feel proud of myself for doing it, to be honest. I just felt like, I'd had this goal and this wish for so long, and I finally did it! And that was awesome, but I was still just me.

I think one of the funniest things about all of this is just seeing other people’s reactions to it. Like they seem to think I’m so badass or fearless or something and I don’t see myself as any of those things at all. It’s just something I’ve always wanted to do, and I did it! I had tons of fears before I jumped, and I still have all of them after I came back to Earth. I just feel like I always have about myself — I’m just a person.

Several people have asked me if I'd jump again, which I was completely not expecting. In a way it sort of feels like how I've watched friends have one baby, and then immediately be bombarded with questions like, "When are you going to have another??" and, "Are you going to give them a sibling soon??" Except in my case I took a completely different path -- I fucking jumped out of a plane, and people still want to know if I'll jump out of a plane a second time!! I guess it goes to show that no matter what you do with your life, it won't ever be enough for some.

But honestly, I've been thinking about it more over the past several days, and I think I could be convinced to go again, but very conditionally. I'm proud of myself for going it alone after my friend who had initially wanted to join me was told not to by her doctor. I'm glad I did it by myself, for myself. And so I think the only way I'd want to do it again would be if a friend wanted to go with me. That just seems like it would be a really fun experience.

But otherwise, I think I'm fine if I never jump again. I feel like I got everything I could have hoped for out of the experience, and I feel very fulfilled about the whole thing. I can put a firm checkmark next to "skydiving" on my bucket list. It finally happened! Maybe I'll check in again in 5 years or something, maybe I'll get the itch again. I wouldn't ignore it if I did. But right now I'm happy to say that I feel perfectly satisfied and content with my jump.

On Thursday, after me and Craig had eaten, we drove back into Austin and met up with our friends Bryan and Amy for dinner and drinks at this bar we found. We haven't seen either of them in awhile, so it was nice to catch up, and it was fun to regale them with the tale of my epic skydive. We hung out there for several hours, just catching up. Bryan told me about a guy we went to high school with who had a crush on me. I never knew!

Eventually we wrapped it up and headed back home. I drove, since Craig had been drinking. It wasn't even that late, maybe 9:30 pm, but I already felt so tired on the drive home. I took a shower when we got back and then got into bed, but falling asleep proved to be more difficult than I thought it would be. I imagined that after such a crazy thrill-ride adventure like that, I'd just immediately fall into sleep, but instead, every time I closed my eyes, I would just see the sky as we jumped out of the airplane, and feel this rush in my stomach like I was about to free fall again. It wasn't scary, per se, just interesting, and it made it hard to relax and fall asleep.

You know how sometimes when you're about to fall asleep, you suddenly feel like you're falling, and your muscles tense and your body jerks? I experienced that on Thursday night, too, except this time was so much more intense than usual, because I literally did feel like I was about to fall out of a plane thousands of feet in the air. It was a very harsh, full-body jerk. Eventually, I finally did get to sleep, but as the morning came, I noticed myself tossing and turning more and more because my back and neck had begun to ache in the night. I had started to feel an ache in my inner thighs from the harness on Thursday night while we were at the bar, but when I woke up on Friday, it was so much more intense, and so was the newfound ache in my shoulders and underarms. I didn't have any pain around my middle (I guess I have too much padding lol), and the back and neck pain I felt was significantly less than what I've felt after going to concerts in the past, but it was still deep and present. My ears also still had a small soreness to them. All of the aches and pains lasted for about the next 48 hours, but at this point I'm fine and back to normal.

I think that's pretty much everything from the experience. I'm so glad I finally pulled the trigger and just went and did it -- I think my teenage self would be so happy for me. As my 30th birthday has come and gone, I've been reflecting a lot on how I never imagined myself making it this far in life. Living this long. I am literally now double the oldest age I ever thought I'd make it to at one point. That's so crazy to me. And it's been hard, it's been so fucking hard, but it's experiences like this that make me so glad I've stuck around. I'm just really pleased that I went skydiving to ring in my 30s. I don't really know what other wild or crazy things I'm still hoping to check off in life, but I guess now I get to figure that out!

[estranhossonhos]

(sorry, but I had to highlight this sentence. It's such a mood hahaha) Yes, major respect for EVERYTHING he has done and accomplished so far. He is the reason I started exploring other kinds of media, became aware of how politics and society worked, started expressing myself - but I'm not gonna lie, I do miss this Trent Reznor. I miss Nine Inch Nails.

He needs to reconnect with his inner-cunty-unhinged-self FAST. We (old millennial here - hi!) have been deprived of it for FAR TOO LONG. And I can't wait to see how their new fans will react when experiencing ALL OF THIS, for the first time.

Jokes aside, I know it will not be "like before" - but I have no doubts that it will be another masterpiece to add on to the collection. Do you guys remember/know HOW impactful, "blushing inducing giggling kicking our feet punching the air screaming ripping our hair off*" it was when «Closer» come out? IT WAS ALREADY 30 YEARS AGO! (*sorry, I couldn't help it)

And how thought provoking, mentally insane, sensible and smart 99.999% of his/their work is? With those insanely fast-paced intrumentals, or slow and chill inducing noise, that would perfectly accompany the lyrics? Those same lyrics that would always be overflowing with so much raw emotion, making it impossible for anyone to ignore. You could and you would feel all of it! All the love. All the hate. The rejection, dreams, doubts, criticism and political-social awareness. He would touch on issues such as mental health and finding your purpose; Talk about the never-ending wars endorsed by the USA's presidency and show us how easily manipulated society can be; How we're not aware, nor educated enough (himself included) on how those in power work; How the media and marketing could and would, strategically, release scandals or some good news, to the public - depending on the objective of the 1%; And how history forever repeats itself...

(Speaking of Year Zero - Let us all join hands for one of MANY epic «fuck the system» instants that Mr. Reznor provided)

I'll shut up, I promise, but NIN/Trent Reznor is my roman empire. It's hard for me to shut up. And it brings back many emotions, and lots of memories (good and bad), ever since the first moment they came into my life. POV: you wait for everyone to be asleep, so you could sneak into the living room and turn on the TV. With a very unhealthy distance to the screen (sometimes I could feel/hear the static in my hair) you would watch Headbangers Ball or one those rock/metal mv segments that VH1 would broadcast, late into the night. I was a pre-teen, going through it all, and then some - to spice things up. Because the usual it that happens with the usual explosion of hormones, was not enough - not on my family. And during those very intense years, I found solace in them. Because Nine Inch Nails were equally - or even more - intense. And (thankfully) Trent Reznor still is.

I followed their work, up close, for 14 years. But it was not in that closed-minded way nor fanatical at all. In fact, they already performed in my country multiple times but I was never able to check them live - for some kind of reason, at the time. Moreover, it was impossible to appreciate their art without being open other genres. I discovered a lot of new music, movies, artistic movements, etc., thanks to the incessant member's rotation and their musical influences. It was thanks to them I started paying more attention to the legendary David Bowie (my second refugee, only by chronological order, but number one in my life - sorry Trent haha) I mean, when I first saw «I am Afraid of Americans», I was speechless, blown away, DEAD. Again: the timing of this release, the meaning behind it... everything was done perfectly.

Two amazing artists together, two chameleons, two musical geniuses that ALWAYS delivered!

And every time you would get new material from NIN, it would either make you feel 1) like «the system is fucked up» and you should to start a revolution 2) cry yourself to sleep or 3) have sex. (I laughed writing this last sentence - BUT IT'S TRUE!). Of course there is a multitude of ways to react to his art, but these 3 were the main ones - not gonna lie.

So even if you know him, the band or not, let me - a former NIN forum admin, back in 00s (oh shit, I just realised something * footnote) present to you: Trent Reznor, a musical monster, with (gratefully) a long as fuck career, that never stopped experimenting, from 1988 until now. With many awards under his belt - GRAMMY's, Academy Awards (Oscars), Emmy Awards, BAFTAs, Golden Globes Awards, and (finally!) Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induced. And even though these awards mean nothing, since they are now so easily credited to anyone, I doubt it was that an easy road, for this dude and his endless list of talented band members.

I'll leave now you, but not before sharing 2 of my favourite OST .done by them (since the original post is related to the amazing TRON + NIN news), and mentioning the Year Zero game [an alternate reality game (ARG)] that came out before the world was ready for it:

You can (and should) also check this link if you want to know more about the RPG Year Zero: Nine Inch Nails - Year Zero | nin.wiki

And finally, that promised personal footnote:

I've just realised that even though I was no longer following them as thoroughly as before, it was thanks to that forum I start my current social media manager career. Now excuse me, while I chose that option number 2, as mentioned above, and cry a little.

nine inch nails and not just trenticus doing the soundtrack for the new TRON movie is actually so exciting. i need trent to get his ass back in that vocal booth and start singing like he’s rubbing his nipples like consider my ass SEATED in the theatres

…and then i remembered jared leto is in it 😔

[skinnyducky]

you’re a winner, baby // v.h.

I got bored doing homework and I got this idea while watching the VMAs so, yeah...here you go! Part four of Party at Y/n’s is coming sometime on Tuesday. Hope you enjoy this one! I’m thinking of doing more with a singer!reader.

vinnie hacker x singer!fem!reader

Word Count: 1115, edited

WARNING: language and mainly fluff

---------

Nerves filled your body as you got closer to the VMAs. This was your first time going and you were nominated for not only “song of the year” but also “artist of the year” and many others. It was crazy to think that within the span of five months you blew up into one of the biggest artists in the world. You went from being known as a TikTok dancer to being seen as a force within the music industry. It was insane, and thankfully, you didn’t have to live through it alone. Your muse, your boyfriend, Vinnie, was right there beside you.

“Are you freaking out?” he asked, placing a hand on your leg.

“No, no…why? Do I look like it?” You gulped. “I’m not sweating, am I? No, I’m not sweating. You’re sweating. What are we talking about?”

He laughed, “Calm down, Y/n. You’re gonna win tonight.”

“You don’t know that. Have you seen the people I’m going up against for my awards? Doja Cat, Billie Eilish, fucking Taylor Swift!” Leaning back in your seat, you pouted. “I have no chance.”

“Babe, you’re probably the biggest artist in the country right now. If you don’t walk away with something, I can guarantee you there’s going to be riots. You need to stop freaking out and think positively.���

He was right, you needed to stop being so pessimistic about this. You had the number one song in the country, a number one album, and you were expected to win big at the upcoming Grammys. You were fucking awesome, and you had Vinnie there to remind you of that.

“Okay, kid. We’re here.” Your manager, Jen, announced from the passenger seat. “You ready for people to see that pretty face of yours?”

You nodded confidently. Vinnie took your hand and gave you a soft smile. “Just do what you do, babe.”

You returned the gesture and waited to be let out. The minute the door opened, you were met with screams and cheers from people. You got of the car with Vinnie following and Jen not to far from the both of you. You waved and blew kisses to your fans and made your way down the red carpet where you were to have you pictures taken. You had some taken of yourself, but you couldn’t take any without your date. The pictures of you and Vinnie cracking jokes and making fun of what others were wearing were sure to be all over Twitter tonight.

Once that was done, Jen took you to the interviewers, where you met with Riley Venders from Entertainment Tonight.

“Oh my goodness, I am here with the beautiful and successful, Y/n! After being the number one artist for majority of the year, how are you!?” Riley exclaimed, pointing the mic to you.

“I’m so good,” you laughed. “I’m very nervous tonight, but that’s to be expected I guess. It’s just a total honor to be here.”

Riley squealed in excitement, “That’s so amazing! Now, you’re nominated for multiple VMAs tonight. How does that feel?”

“It feels *bleep*ing incredible, y’know? I wrote an album based off of my relationship and to have it be cherished by so many people, it’s amazing.”

“Speaking of your relationship, is the boyfriend here now?”

Pointing over at Vinnie, you nodded with a smile. “He is! He’s my date tonight and I’m literally the luckiest girl on the face of the planet. He’s the coolest and most perfect boyfriend any girl could ask for.”

“That is so wonderful, Y/n! I am so happy for you, I wish you nothing but luck tonight, you look amazing, and I can’t wait to see what you do in the future!”

“Thank you so much!”

You and Riley bid your goodbyes before you had to move onto your next interview. After about three more, you finally were able to go to your seats. Even though you were pretty famous yourself, the fact that you were seated in between Billie Eilish and Alicia Keys was jaw dropping. The show started and you and Vinnie were having the time of your lives, dancing around and lip syncing to Olivia Rodrigo. Then before you know it, the nominees for “song of the year” were being announced.

You sat in silence and fear, watching as your name popped up and your hit single echoed throughout the arena. Screams and wails dwindled down as JLO proceeded to announce the winner.

“And the winner for ‘song of the year’ is…drumroll please.” She opened the envelope and with a smile, she said, “Y/f/n Y/l/n!”

The crowd went wild as your name flashed on the screen. You turned to Vinnie with wide eyes only to be met with his excitement. “I won?” you mouthed. “What the hell?”

“Jesus, Y/n, go!” he laughed, pushing you on stage but not before planting a kiss on your cheek. You stumbled up to the mic, waving to your fans, and giving JLO a hug.

“Holy *bleep*.” You breathed into the mic, picking up your award. “This is so *bleeping*ing incredible. I want to thank my family, my friends, my manager, Jen. I wanna thank the fans for your support and for loving the music. I for sure want to thank my boyfriend, Vinnie.”

Everyone awed and you laughed, moving your attention to the boy. “Without you, I wouldn’t be standing up here. You inspired me so much to make this music and I absolutely can’t thank you enough, babe. You’re the sickest, most coolest person and I’m so lucky to call you mine. So, thank you, and thank you to the VMAs.”

With that, you blew a kiss to the crowd and followed JLO backstage. When you got back to your seat, Vinnie gripped your face and began peppering you with kisses. As much as you loved him, you could’ve gone without that.

“You’re a winner, baby!” He yelled, earning a chuckled from Billie and Finneas beside you. “Also, you’re welcome.”

“For what?”

“For getting you a number one song and a number one album.”

You scoffed, “Please. Just because I thanked you in my speech doesn’t mean you’re allowed to get a big head.”

That night, you went on to win majority of your awards and in all your speeches, you made sure to mention Vinnie’s impact. And as expected, that gassed him up. You spent the entire night in your hotel room listening to him going on and on about how he made you a musical god. While he made sure to praise himself for his part in your success, he couldn’t forget to also praise you for your hard work. He was proud to declare his baby a winner.

[bruhstories]

Dazed and Confused

Summary: You and Connie have been friends for ten years, crushing on each other like a bunch of idiots who can't confess their feelings for one another. Until you go on a trip with your friends. Pairing: Connie Springer x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: 18+, language, oral sex (female & male receiving), unprotected sex, weed smoking, alcohol consumption, f l u f f Word Count: 4.2 k

A/N: I got so pissed at that last anon that I finished this oneshot quicker lol. @fiaficsxo here it is!

You loved parties. Not the loud music and thick smoke, not the booze and smell of vomit, but your friends. Every time they gathered at someone's place, your heart fluttered, filled with happiness and content and long-lasting memories.

Connie had the brilliant idea of spending a week in the mountains during your spring break, and you wasted an entire night searching for the perfect cottage to rent. Luckily everyone was down with his suggestion, the only problem was how you'd sleep. Historia obviously wanted to share a room with Ymir. Mikasa and Eren were an item now, so they'd have to sleep together. Armin wanted to try his luck with Annie, so no one objected to that. Jean declared that he wanted to bunk with Connie, like the two eligible bachelors they were, and that left you and Sasha to share a room together. You didn't mind it, in all honesty you loved Sasha with all your heart — but you secretly hoped someone would pick up on your feelings for Connie and let you sleep with him. You weren't that lucky.

You packed your bag the night before the trip, obsessively ticking everything on your list and double checking every item and pocket. It was ready, with one item missing — the white lace babydoll smoothed on your dorm bed. You chewed the pen cap, debating whether to bring it with you or not. You bought it for special occasions, but you haven't had a dick appointment in a long time, and you doubted you'd have one this week. With a shrug, you decided to bring it — you never know what might happen. Nighttime passed quickly and you soon found yourself all dolled up, albeit still sleepy from all the tossing and turning, excited to make more memories with your friends.

The train station was packed with people, especially students who went back to their hometowns for the break, and you were relieved to find Armin and Mikasa there. You three were always punctual, followed by Jean and Annie. Eren, Sasha and Connie were always late, which is why you told them the train leaves at 7 am instead of 7:30. It was a dirty strategy, but no one wanted to miss such a fun opportunity because of those lazy fuckers. And lo and behold, they decided to appear at 7:15.

"That was some good thinking." Jean shook his head, hand sympathetically placed on your shoulder.

"I'm only glad you guys rolled with it." You laughed without noticing the way Connie stared at you, and even he didn't understand exactly what he felt. Was he grumpy because he hated morning, or was it Jean's hand on you that irked him?

"It's not polite to stare." Sasha pulled Connie out of his thoughts.

"I wasn't staring, I was looking." Connie rolled his eyes, gripping the handle of his suitcase a bit too tightly.

"I just don't get it why you don't tell her you like her." The girl popped a bubblegum baloon, proceeding to chew it very loudly.

"Are you kidding me? She obviously likes Jean. Look how she's laughing!"

Sasha placed an arm on his shoulder, a sheepish smile on her face. "You, my friend, are a dumbass."

"Takes one to know one."

To say that your friends were loud during the train ride was an understatement. They didn't really care about the nasty glares other passengers shot at them, opting to talk, sing, eat and practically embarrass themselves. But two hours later you arrived, and the fresh, crisp air of the mountains was a blessing. You didn't regret coming, all of you deserved a break after all the exams, studying and all-nighters you guys pulled.

"We could visit the military museum!" Armin suggested, but Connie scrunched his nose.

"We came here to get high, drink and spend time together, why the fuck would we visit some old ass building?"

"I'd like to go to the museum." You awkwardly smiled, earning a 'see?' from the blond. Mikasa, Eren and Annie backed you up, and since it was a democracy, you ended up leaving your bags at the cottage and touring the small town to find the military museum. The building wasn't massive, and inside it was dark, with crimson carpets and dim lights. It was actually quite a romantic atmosphere, had it not been for the weapons and armours displayed in glass cases. Connie watched you intently, taking in every movement, every flinch, every hair tucking, every scrunch of your cute nose. You absorbed the information, hungry for knowledge. This was something you and Connie didn't share — yes, you were down to drinking and smoking, but you were also eager to learn and study, while he always preached how 'you can always retake an exam but you can't relive a party.' He wasn't stupid by any means, but unlike you, Jean, Armin and Mikasa — who alwaysstudied and never skipped lectures — Connie would wing it and somehow end up getting better grades. His strategy didn't always work, and sometimes, when you were in college, he'd ask you to tutor him. Now you were second year undergraduates, and while you were studying different subjects, you still made time for each other.

"That's a nice, uhh..." Connie squinted, "...shotgun."

"It's a musket." You chuckled, your fingers accidentally brushing his as you turned around to face him.

"Shotgun, musket, same thing."

"Actually, muskets are muzzle-loaded and fire a single bullet, but shotguns pack multiple pellets in one shell." You explained. "I'm sorry, you're probably not interested in my ramblings."

"No, no, it's... interesting. I just wasn't expecting you to know so much about guns." He rubbed his nape and smiled at you.

"Well, I do study history, in case you forgot."

"How could I forget that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You awkwardly elbowed Connie. Why was it so hard for you to just tell him your feelings? Oh, right, because you've been friends for ten years and if he didn't like you back, it would only ruin a great friendship.

"It means you brag about it so much it's kind of hard to forget." He told you, quickly realising just how insulting that sounded.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that's how you felt..." You sighed, eyes darting back to the weapons.

"No, I didn't- forget it." Connie shook his head. Well played.

Back at the cottage, with enough food and booze to last the group a month, you decided to stay in your room for the rest of the day. It wasn't the first time you had embarrassing moments with Connie, but this particular one made you anxious to be around him. Did he really dislike you that much, or was it just friendly banter? If you were to ask him, you could find out, but every scenario in your head had a bad outcome, so avoiding him for now was the smartest choice. Sasha pleaded with you to spend the evening in the living room with everyone else, but you brushed her off, telling her you weren't feeling quite well.

"Text me if you need anything." She told you before leaving. It was immature to act this way, you knew that all too well, but it wasn't like Connie cared, right? You eventually decided to go downstairs after finishing a long episode of your favourite tv show, your stomach begging for nourishment. As silently as possible, you tiptoed behind the couch. The hallway was dim, the sun had already set, and the only lights were the ones from the wide TV screen in the living room where your friends were watching some corny horror movie. You could cut the suspense and tension with a knife, and when you dropped a teaspoon, everyone jumped.

"Sorry, sorry! It's just me!"

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, you almost gave me a heart attack." Jean got up from the floor and walked behind the couch. "How are you feeling? Sasha said you're ill."

"I'm fine, don't worry." You picked the spoon up and threw it in the sink. "It's just a headache, I'll sleep it off."

"Good, we need you here." The man wrapped an arm around you. "You're missing how Connie's crapping his pants at this shitty movie."

From the outside it would seem like you and Jean were a couple, but the truth was far from it. You two grew up together, his family was friends with your family, and what you had was nothing more than a brother-sister relationship. Jean's little remark earned a disgruntled look from Connie, you quickly picked up on that, and so you playfully jabbed him in the stomach.

"Connie's crapping his pants? You're the one who almost had a heart attack." You grinned.

"Oi, that was only because you dropped your stupid spoon. I was invested in the movie."

"Mhm, sure you were."

"Hey, you sure you don't want to join us?" Mikasa waved at you from the living room. You pondered over her question. Perhaps it wouldn't be too awkward to sit with them.

"Alright, sure, why not?"

"Come, sit next to me." Sasha shuffled to the side, but what she really meant by that was 'sit next to Connie', because she shuffled to the otherside.

The following two nights were surprisingly quiet, all you did was play board games, watch movies and walk around the town taking pictures. The tension between Connie and you seemed to dissipate, and you both forgot the unpleasant interaction you had on the first day. But on the fourth night, that's when shit hit the fan. Annie and Armin left for a date, and Eren and Mikasa wanted to spend the night alone in their room, leaving you, Sasha, Jean and Connie unsupervised, bored and tipsy. There was absolutely nothing good to watch on the TV, and you almost wanted to scream when your friends wanted to play truth or dare. It was one of those games you despised, because the whole point of it was to put the players in uncomfortable situations. And you didn't like being uncomfortable, unlike your friends.

"Jean, truth or dare?" Sasha beamed.

"Dare, duh."

"Alright, I dare you to switch roommates for the rest of the week." She sipped her blackberry cider.

"Okay? So, I'll stay with Y/N, then."

Good lord, if looks could kill, Connie's would annihilate Jean and Sasha off the face of the Earth.

"No, no, you'll stay with me. Y/N will stay with Connie."

"Eh? Why does your dare involve us?" You asked, confused and curious of your friend's proposal.

"Because." She shrugged. "Don't pussy out."

"I'm not pussying out. A dare's a dare." Jean scoffed. "I'm gonna go take my shit in your room and shower."

"Y-yeah, I'll go bring mine, too." You got up, using this time to hyperventilate alone. What the fuck was Sasha even thinking? Was this some stupid joke? But your friends wouldn't harm you, so why would she suggest such a stupid thing?

You took a quick shower before curling up in the bed, blankets covering you from neck to toe. Connie wasn't back yet, and you didn't want to go after him, that would just be odd. You were hoping you'd fall asleep before he returned, to avoid any unnecessary fuss, but just as you closed your eyes, the door opened. Maybe you could pretend you were asleep? He struggled to find his pyjamas in the dark, stumbling over furniture and knocking things down, and you turned the bedside lamp on to ease his search.

"Did I wake you up?" Connie bit his lower lip, and through the dim light you watched the way his grey eyes glistened, the way his short brown hair was ruffled, and how the sage green t-shirt hugged his toned abdomen.

"No, no, 's alright. I wasn't sleeping. I can't exactly fall asleep." You clutched the blanket at your chest as you shook the intrusive thoughts away. Connie was your friend, damn it, there was no room for romance between you.

"I can sleep on the floor if you want."

"Oh, God, no, it's... stiff."

"Um, yeah, it kinda is. Alright then, I'll jump in the shower real quick before going to bed." He stumbled into the bathroom and you really wanted to fall asleep now.

But you couldn't. Every time you closed your eyes, Connie's face popped in your head. So much for resting. You tossed and turned on the mattress, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, but nothing helped. It didn't take long for him to finish his shower, and you mentally chastised yourself for not falling asleep when you felt him shuffle under the same blanket that was covering you. For a minute, you didn't utter a word, you barely breathed, afraid to disturb the silence in the room.

"Are you asleep?"

"Nope." You heard the click of Connie's phone and turned around. You couldn't see him, but you could hear him.

"Do you wanna talk about something? Until we fall asleep, I mean." You suggested.

"Hmm, sure." He turned on his side and you felt his breath fanning over your cheeks. You were too close to him. "Actually, d'you wanna smoke?"

"Aren't the others gonna be mad if we smoke without them?"

"They don't have to know. Besides, you and I never smoked together." Connie was already up, rummaging through his backpack with the flashlight of his phone. "And then we can talk as much as you want."

"Alright, I'm down."

You laid on the floor, your head next to Connie's as you looked at the ceiling, smoke leaving your lips. He took the joint from you, fingers touching yours and you blushed, the haze of the weed melting your worries away.

"Do you want me to skip the song?" Connie asked, and for a moment you forgot there was a song playing.

"No, I like it." You confessed. "I didn't know you liked Led Zeppelin."

"There's lots of things you don't know about me, Y/N." He passed you the joint.

"Okay, tell me something else I don't know."

"I like it when you randomly say historical or scientific facts."

"Didn't you say I brag too much about it?" You took one final drag before you stubbed the joint out in a makeshift ashtray filled with a bit of water. By this point you were high as a kite, every trace of rationality gone.

"That doesn't mean I don't like it." Connie smiled and you could feel it in his voice. "Now you tell me something I don't know about you."

"I can't sleep with open doors. It freaks me out." You sat up, a breeze blowing through the window sending shivers down your spine. "It's a bit cold, do you mind if I close the window?"

"Go ahead."

You got up and picked the ashtray up but before you could close the window, you stumbled over a chest of drawers, the ashes mixed with water spilling over your t-shirt.

"You okay?" He quickly crawled to you, concern written all over his face.

"Yeah, I'm just clumsy." You laughed it off and waved your free hand. "I'll go get changed, I should have a spare shirt."

But you didn't have a spare shirt. All you had was that stupid white babydoll, and anxiety seeped through your veins. You couldn't exactly show up in that in front of your crush. And you didn't want to ask him for a shirt either. Fuck it, what else could you do?

You peeked out the bathroom door and saw Connie back in bed, lazily scrolling through his phone. God, this was embarrassing.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He laughed, but when your facial expression didn't change, he frowned. "Y/N?"

"Um, so, I didn't have a spare shirt and- Jesus, this is awkward." You opened the door and his eyes widened. "Is it alright if I sleep in this?"

"Oh, I get it now." Connie scoffed.

"Get what?"

"You were hoping you'd share a room with Jean, right?" He sounded almost disgusted.

"Excuse you? Where did you even get that idea?" You slammed the bathroom door shut, arms folded across your chest.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N. I've seen the way you two act. Do yourselves a favour and just fuck already."

You were speechless. Completely reactionless. The weed amplified your anger, but his words brought tears to your eyes.

"You... you fucking asshole! You think I brought this for Jean? I brought it for you!"

"Eh? M-me?" Connie was confused, and you were pissed.

"Yes, you. Jean's like a brother to me, oh my God! Ew!"

"Wait, so you and Jean are not in love with each other?"

"In love?? Connie, how high are you exactly?" You walked closer to the bed, arms still crossed.

"But- Fuck, I am stupid." He shook his head, the memories of you flirting with him flashing before his eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"A bit..." Your muscles relaxed and you sat on the mattress. "Really, Connie, I... I like you. A lot. But you're always giving me mixed signals."

"That's because I always thought you liked Jean!" He threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

"No, you're the only one."

"Huh, guess I've really been dazed and confused."

Calloused fingertips ran across your hips leaving goosebumps in their trail. Your hands roamed his back and the way Connie kissed you was better than any high you've ever experienced. He was touch-starved, and you were just as needy. His knee found its place between your thighs and you moaned when it barely brushed your cunt.

"I've been dreaming for this moment for as long as I can remember." Connie breathed into your neck, the hot breath tickling your skin.

"Me too, you blind bat." You laughed and he turned you over, hovering over you.

"'M sorry I didn't notice quicker." He kissed you again. One hand travelled lower, pushing your underwear to the side before he pushed two fingers between your folds. "Fuck, you're so wet."

"Well, at least now I don't have to finger myself thinking about you." You whimpered with a grin.

"Oh?" Connie arched a brow. "Is that what you've been doing?" He curled up his fingers and you threw your head back with a moan. "I thought you were a prude."

"T-there's lots of things you d-don't know about m-me!" You replied back between oh’sand ah’s, imitating his words from an hour ago. That only earned a sneer from Connie, his head dipping between your thighs. "Wait, what are you do- ooh fuck!"

His tongue lapped at your cunt, fingers pumping in and out of you, and you completely sunk into the mattress, moaning his name over and over again. You gripped the sheets, flexing the muscles in your legs as you squirmed and thrashed. Connie stopped and you almost crushed his skull with your thighs at the empty feeling. He pulled your underwear down and shoved the cotton panties in your mouth.

"Don't wake everyone up, Y/N. You don't want them knowing what a little slut you are, do you?"

You shook your head and Connie went back to circling your clit with his tongue, adrenaline rushing through your entire body with each lick, each suck. Tears of pleasure pooled at your eyes, nose and cheeks red from the thrill of your incoming orgasm. The way he was sloppily eating your pussy and moaning while doing it drove you insane, and within seconds you came undone, thighs trembling with delight. In fact, you were so sore you had to push his head back, begging him to stop so you could return the favour.

"You taste so sweet." Connie licked his lips. You don't know what possessed you to pull him into a kiss after you removed the makeshift gag, but he was right, you were sweet.

"Can I...?" Your eyes drifted down to his twitching cock, your voice soft and quiet.

"You wanna suck it?"

"Yes."

"Later. Right now, I wanna fuck you."

Connie gave you no time to protest, his elbow pushed one of your things to the side, the blushing tip of his cock grazing over your overstimulated clit, up and down your slit. Inch by inch it disappeared into your cunt and he let out a satisfied sigh. You bucked your hips, manicured nails digging into his shoulders with each thrust.

"Shit, you're so fucking tight!" Connie growled, head lowering to kiss you. You could still taste yourself on his lips and that only made you clench your spongy walls around his cock. That seemed to please him, because he rocked his hips harder and faster. "You like it?"

"Oh, God, yes!" You gasped, beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you clawed his back.

"Fuck, I want you to ride me." He gripped your hips tighter and turned you over. You tried your best to get in the new position without letting his cock slip out of you, and when you finally adjusted yourself, it was a whole new challenge. Gravity pulled you down, and his tip brushed your cervix, your eyes squinting at the slight pain. "If it hurts, stop-"

"No!" You cried out, your hands resting on his chest. You bounced up and down, the uncomfortable feeling slowly replaced with pleasure. Connie's hands traced your thighs as you rode him, another wave of heat flushing through your core. His palm met your cunt, thumb circling over your clit. "I can't c-come again!"

"Yes, you can. And you will cream on my cock."

The disgust words worked like magic and you flexed your thighs, bouncing faster, head thrown back, hair cascading down your back. "You're so beautiful, Y/N."

"Connie, I-" The words stopped in your throat, the pressure too much for you to handle.

"You what?"

"I'm- oh, God!"

"Atta girl!" He praised you when he felt your silken walls relaxing and your thighs quaking. The second orgasm was so intense you let yourself fall over his chest, dizzy and tired. You thought he'd give you a break, but Connie wrapped an arm around your back, holding you in place before giving your oversensitive cunt a few more thrusts. "Now you can return the favour."

You mustered up some strength to get up and kneel in front of the bed, between his legs.

"Please don't come in my mouth." You asked him before wrapping your pretty lips around his cock.

"Gotchaah-" Connie choked on his words when he felt himself in your hot mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, cheeks hollowed and eyes on him. You didn't break eye contact when you pulled away and spat on the tip, hand pumping his cock to smear the spit. "Hot." He mumbled before you went back to sucking. You felt the throbbing, tightening your lips around him and picking up the pace. "Y/N-"

It all happened in a flash — Connie yanked your hair and pulled your head back, thick ropes of milky white cum shooting all over your face and neck.

"Eew!" You scrunched your nose, hand under your chin to stop it from dripping down the floor.

"What do you mean ew? That's, like, a billion kids!"

"Actually, a fertile man produces around-"

"Don't start. Do not." He pressed his index finger over your lips. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You woke up sore, especially between your thighs, but damn, was it worth it. Connie wrapped an arm around your waist, mumbling something about how pretty you are, but you assumed he was still sleeping — or still high. The sun shone through the blinds and you squinted, annoyed by the brightness, and so you turned around, watching the way your crush snored peacefully.

"Cute." You smiled and planted a kiss on his forehead, waking him up. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Why?" Connie rubbed his eyes. "Waking up to you is a blessing."

You couldn't hide the tinting of your cheeks and the grin on your lips. "I didn't think you were the romantic type."

"There's lots of things-"

"I don't know about you. But I'd like to know those things. If you let me, of course." You bit your lower lip, eyes filled with hope.

"Can I be your boyfriend?" He sat up, his eyes serious.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Okay, so maybe Sasha knew a thing or two when she dared Jean to switch roommates.

You walked into the kitchen after getting ready for the day, with Connie following behind you. Everyone was eating their breakfast, and Jean instantly dashed to you.

"Connie, bro, take me back. Sasha's leaving crumbs all over the bed! I can't sleep like that!"

"I can't, man, I wanna spend the rest of the week with my girlfriend." He sneered and you elbowed him.

"I forgot to mention Jean's overprotecti-"

"Your what? Hands off my sister from another mister, you creep!"

"Creep? You're the one who was sexting someone's sister last night." Sasha chimed in, mouth full of cereal.

"Thanks, Sash." Jean rolled his eyes. "For real, how did this happen?"

"You see, mate, when a man and a woman love each other-"

"Nope. I will not hear this."

[mashup-writing]

Somebody else by 1975 and it is sparkles-✨

It worked out well; Park Chaeyoung (Blackpink)

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Summary: Y/N and Rosé had decided to announce their relationship, but they were gonna be extra about it.

Requested? ☑

"I remember it all too well."

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It was the final part of Y/N's concert and while he's used to the feeling of thousands of eyes on him, what's going to follow was something that made him extremely nervous, which says a lot. Especially when he was counting on the audience for his plan to work.

At the start of his career, he had announced that he was a Transgender man on all of his social media platforms. An action that took a lot of guts, and and an action that drew a lot of attention to him. At the rising point of his career when he was questioned about it in an interview, his answer was something that made him well known figure within the industry.

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"Now Y/N at the very beginning of your career, you told the world that you were a trans man. That must've taken extreme bravery on your part seeing as those people who are against your community- The LGBT community, can be downright nasty and ruthless in 'Expressing' their dislike. What mae you decide to do this so early on in your time in the spotlight?"

Y/N smiles in his seat, switching from a laid back posture to one that elegantly demands attention, his next words being the ones that made him an icon amongst allies and LGBT people alike. "I am an advocate of LGBT rights before I am an artist, at the very start of my career I wanted to make it clear that I didn't want bigots to be a part of my following or an avid listener of my music and while I'm a man who values my privacy, I value honesty and transparency just as much. So if you're someone who believes that transgender people are just 'Confused' or that they're a 'Crime' against nature? Then go ahead and consider me your worst nightmare."

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

Y/N had been sitting on a chair for quite a few moments now, holding a Q&A onstage before he stands up and decides to follow through with the first part of his plan. "Alright, now today's intermission, I'm going to do a cover of my most favorite song called 'Somebody Else by The 1975'. Oh and don't worry you guys, the Q&A will still continue after this cover." The stadium fills with loud screams and cheers from the people watching as he places his mic back on its stand and goes to pick up his electric guitar. The lights dim into a sunset red as the opening notes of the music fill out through the speakers, Y/N starts singing and playing his guitar as the crowd claps along to the beat.

At the start of the second verse, Y/N takes off his guitar and takes the mic off of the stand, walking back to the guitar stand, he puts the instrument down before walking back to the front of the stage and hyping the people up to sing along with him in the pre-chorus. The entrance platform that had sunk back down starts rising as a distinctly feminine voice fills the stadium at the start of the chorus. Y/N smiles widely as the stage screens show Rosé walking towards him, offering her hand. He takes it and raises their hands up, leading the Blackpink member into a twirl, the crowd has gone wild at this point and the duo are pretty sure that somebody or multiple people in the audiences are Blinks seeing the way they've started chanting Rosé's name even without Y/N introducing her beforehand.

The bridge part comes along and the two singers alternate their lines. When the instrumental hits, Rosé takes his hands and starts dancing along to the beat, dorkily smiling and roping the man into dancing along. When the final chorus comes, Y/N and Rosé sing together, motioning for the crowd to sing along and the stadium fills with the sounds of music and the combined voices of a chanting crowd.

The song comes to an end with loud cheers for the two vocalists who are now smiling widely while catching their breaths. Y/N offers his hand to Rosé and when she takes it, the two raise their hands and perform a bow. He lets go of her hand once they've come up from the bow, turning to face her before speaking. "May I introduce, Park Chaeyoung of Blackpink everyone."

The woman in question laughs, shaking her head before going to bow once again and waving to the crowd with both hands, Y/N decides to push his luck. "Also known as Rosé of Blackpink, or Rosie, or Foodsé, or Chipm-" He runs as she jokingly tries to swat at his shoulder.

The cheers continue and the two laugh with each other before Rosè speaks to the crowd. "So how did you guys like our cover?" She's answered with loud cheers and Y/N's manager signals at the two from behind the curtain, raising both his hands up. 10 minutes left, Y/N nods at him and smiles while Rosé turns her attention back to the crowd, he gives the singers a thumbs up with a dorky smile before taking his leave. Y/N shakes his head in humor.

"I'm pretty sure I'm speaking for both me and Y/N over here when I say that we're happy to see you guys loved it." Y/N turns to Rosé to agree with her statement. Y/N speaks into the mic saying that he and Rosé will spend the last ten minutes of the concert for the Q&A. The following minutes fly by with questions aimed at Y/N, questions aimed at Rosé as well as questions aimed at both come in droves, until Y/N announce that the next question will be the last one before the event comes to an end and they have to start saying goodbye. Multiple people raise their hand, and he leaves it up to Rosé to pick who gets to ask the final question. She gives her mic to a girl in the front row, and the girl states her question.

"How did you come up with the idea to have Rosé make a special appearance for a cover? Going by your latest Instagram posts before this album dropped, it seemed like you guys were writing songs together. So we were really hyped for a collab." The fan hands the mic back to Rosé who smiles at Y/N as he takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what's to come next. The Western singer brings his mic up to his lips to answer.

"There's a pretty good reason for this cover actually. 'Somebody Else' is a song that holds special meaning for the both of us, besides being our favorite song." Y/N motion for Rosé to take the lead, and she steps closer to him before speaking. "There was a point in me and Y/N's life that we didn't know where we stood. It a point we could sort of compare to the kid's game: Tag." She looks over to the man beside her, silently asking if he wants to back out of it. Instead Y/N takes her hand, interlocks their fingers and squeezes. Go on, I'm ready.

"Long story short is that I was hung up and broken hearted over this person and he was hung up over me." Collective gasps resound through out the stadium. After all, the only thing they know about you and Rosé relationship up until this point was that she was helping you write songs. You bring your mic up to your lips and speak. "The pictures on my Instagram of her looking at the lyrics I wrote? That wasn't Rosé helping me write. That was Chaeyoung reading what I wrote about her." The crowd goes crazy over the newfound information, and Y/N's pretty sure that they miss the way he referred to her using her real name instead of her stage name. But Chaeyoung catches onto it and she smiles softly at the man.

"I can't even begin to describe how thankful I am to Y/N by the way. Staying up countless nights and listening to me ramble on about being torn up, being there for me in every single way, helping me heal and doing all of this without expecting anything in return. Such a gentleman really." The crowd collectively 'Awwwwws' and Y/N hangs his head low, hiding his blush from everyone, Rosé laughs as Y/N looks at the ceiling, composing himself before speaking.

"I would never expect anything in return from you and you don't have to thank me either, I was just doing what a friend would've done at a time like that. Anyways, I stuck by her in those times all while all I could think of afterwards was how stupid the person who broke her heart was, all while I wished I was the one she had ended up with instead of them. I never even hinted at how I felt about her in those times, much less actually tell her. I promised myself I wouldn't tell her how I felt until the time was right. I didn't want her to feel guilty or pressured at all by what I had to say." Y/N looks from the crowd infront of him to Rosé before continuing "Time passed and her heartbreak had healed. But she still wasn't ready for a relationship for a while after that whole ordeal, so I kept my promise and I waited."

"When I had told my members and Y/N that I was finally ready for another relationship- That like, I was completely okay. Y/N decided to court me instead of asking me outright to be his girlfriend. Can you believe this sap?" The crowd laughs with Rosé as Y/N's jaw hits the floor, he walks away from Rosé and heads to the other side of the stage. He crouches and points to Rosé "I was being noble, chivalrous and mind you I was trying to prove that I was boyfriend material! Then she goes and calls me a sap?! I can't believe this..." Y/N lowers the mic and shakes his head in mock disbelief. Rosé doubles over in laughter before walking over to him and resting her free hand on his shoulder.

"Yes, I'm calling you a sap because you are one. But it worked out didn't it?" She looks down at Y/N before continuing. "I gladly said yes." The crowd goes crazy, people cheering, some were jumping, and the others were speechless.

Y/N smiles, a full smile from ear to ear as he takes Chaeyoung's hand on his shoulder to bring it to his lips. "Yeah, yeah it worked out well in the end didn't it?"

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A/N: Damn writing in 3rd person is a TASK. I might never do it again, I hope this was good enough? I'm not too sure about the ending but I liked the idea of them announcing their relationship infront of a crowd instead of doing it via a social media post. So yeah.

[artxyra]

I'm not entirely sure that your taking requests (I'm only 68% sure) but if you are can you try doing a daminette fiction based on the song Karma (cover by CMKC) with some class salt? (Maybe even some sibling jasonette or some daminette (or maybe even both...?😏) if you can) Btw I love your writing! 💜 (And before I forget thx for doing my requests, the previous ones and hopefully future ones 💜)

Note: This fics original idea had Marinette being akumatized into KARMA, yeah that didn’t happen when I was writing this one. 

I've lost my mind The skies are crashing around me I'm left behind Smoke obscures all that I can see

“Oh, look, honey, our daughter made her first dress. Get the camera.”

A doll sits on the windowsill overlooking the growing garden on the deck. The doll has blue straw-like hair, bright blue color buttons for eyes, and a black stitched smile.

“Get out! You’re nothing but a pest. How could I care for such a child when you couldn’t do the one thing you brought into this world for.”  

The doll no longer sits on the windowsill, but now lays on in wastebasket. No longer did the doll possess the bright stitch smile. Instead, the face lays bare without a stitch in sight.

“Hey, what are you doing out here all alone? What’s your name?”

“K-ka-karma…”

A small blue jay flutters its wings.  

“I’m Jason. I’ll protect you for now on.”

The blue jay chirps.

A bullet sounds off. A small pull of blood surrounds the bird.

“No!” A thunderous boom goes off in the distance. Multiple sirens join the assembly of loud music. A young pre-teen holds the girl close to his chest, blood oozing out of her chest. A hand touches his shoulder. He shakes it off. Never letting go of her.

Beep…Beep…the heart monitor comes to life slowly. Waiting for the young child to test its system. There is no movement. Then there is silence.   

A dark-haired, blue eye teen, stares into the mirror. Her eyes showing no emotions as her body is littered with markings ranging from cuts to words meant to demean a person.

“Marinette! How could you take credit for Lila’s design?”

The mirror cracks slightly.

 “You have to be an example, Marinette. Your peers look up to you.”

Another crack.

“Marinette how you be mean to that poor girl at your school?”

Another crack.

“I thought you were our everyday Ladybug.”

The mirror shatters. All that is left is darkness.

Marinette stares frozen in place. The gloss in her eyes fading away as the glass falls to the ground, blood in her hand as fragments of glass pierce her skin.

She gasps unsure what to do. Her hands never close as she stares at them with fear. The blood continues to ooze out. The room does dark. A thump.

Her frail arms wrap around her legs tightly. She doesn’t move.

When she comes to, it's by the rushing sound of running water. A waterfall, maybe. She looks up and all she can see is white.

“Why did you do it?” A voice pulls her away from the water. Quickly, she turns around but is halted by a pain aching feeling shooting through her body. She lets out a cry.

“I’m I dead?” Her voice was hoarse, she couldn’t even whisper.

“No,” The voice chuckles. The knobs squeal to life. The water stops following, no longer hitting her in the face. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Her mouth opens but no words come out. She begins to breathe heavily like there was no air entering her lungs.

“How could you push Lila down the stairs? Here’s a taste to what Lila felt.”  One moment she was standing top of the stairs getting ready to leave, the next she at the bottom of the platform. Everything was hurting. Then darkness.

Marinette eyes flutter open, there the no hard tile beneath her like earlier but now cotton sheets and a blanket. She could feel her body move, one toe wiggle, two taps against her fingers.

“Jason,” She sits up pulling the blanket closer to her chest. There is no one there.

A wave of sadness washes over her. A glossy shine covers her bluebell eyes.

“Hey, hey, I’m here, Pixie.” The voice was comforting. She curls into herself. His arms wrap around her and pull her close. Whatever happened to her should have never happened.

He looks down, a soft snore escapes her lips. A smile appears on his lips. At least she safe and with him. No longer in that toxic environment.

A phone vibrates. It’s Marinette’s.

Jason unlocks the phone to see a series of messages. None of which are good. The hand holding the phone shakes. He tightens his grip. Slowly the screen begins to crack.

“You’re safe now.” He whispers into her ear. “Your big brother is here to protect you.” The remaining source of light turns off. He stays next to her.

“We are meant for each other M’lady. To halves on the same coin. You belong to me and no one else can have you.” Green eyes haunt her dreams. The cold feeling returns with growing darkness that was all too familiar.

She wakes up screaming. Tears rolling down her cheeks. There was no stopping the waterfall.

Jason runs into the room cursing himself. He knew he should have left but his family needed him for a mission life or death.

“You’re okay, Pixie, no one but you and I are here.” She continues to cry into his chest. He doesn’t mind the dampness he welcomes it. “It was a bad dream, Mari. A really bad dream.” His free hand caresses her hair, calming her down slowly.

“Todd what is the meaning of this.” His little brother asks over the phone. Jason watches as Marinette takes small bits of her food before swirling the remains in her bowl before repeating the process.

“It sounds like you miss me, Demon Spawn.” Jason jokes back, half into the conversation. He keeps his attention on Marinette. “Hold on.” He hangs up before Damian could retort. Marinette had pushed her bowl away from her and picks up the spoon. She looks at her reflection.

“Why would Adrien even spare you a glance. You are ugly, dull, nothing you would do would ever get his attention.”

“Argh.” Something snaps. It was the spoon. Breathing heavily, Marinette staggeringly gets out of her chair.

Jason helps her to the floor. He could see that she wasn’t going to make it far in her current condition.

“Am I not pretty enough.” Jason barely caught her words. He must burry any of the anger he has for those idiots for the sake of his sister.

“You’re magnificent, Pixie. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” He replies. His phone continues to ring with the familiar ringtone, He ignores it.

“Thank you, Jay-Jay.” Marinette closes her eyes. The ringtone lures her to sleep.

“You’ll never be a real designer, Marinette. One word from him and Gabriel will have you blacklisted from the industry before you even put your name out there.”

“I like to see you try.”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, an aspiring fashion designer, has been blacklisted on the bases of copying designers for her work.”

“I told you, Dupain-Cheng, you should have back off when you had the chance.”

Marinette curls into herself as the memories flood back into her mind. She’s alone. The old TV flickers in the darkness. The channel continues to change as the voices, tone, and display changes with each click of a button.

“Why can’t you leave me alone?” She murmurs to no one. Her grip tightens around the blanket.

“What the fuck, Todd? You’ve been gone for days on end and being all secretive.”

“I didn’t think you care about my well-being, Demon. I have a life outside of this shithole.” Jason says as he cleans the barrels of his guns. His younger brother growls. He could only raise an eyebrow.

“I will find out what you’re hiding Todd.”

“Good luck with that.”

Jason picks up his guns and disappears within the shadows of the Batcave.

“Pixie,” The door creaks open. A little bit of light enters the room. Marinette is sleeping on the couch, the blankets cocooning her. Everything seems fine.

“So, she’s what you’ve been hiding.”

“What the fuck?” A gun cocks.  

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“No, my sister in everything but blood.”

“Hmph…why is she here?”

Jason sets his gun down and shuts the door. He turns to Damian; the teen genuinely was curious.

“She needs helps and I’m the only one who can help her. Gina tried but the mental and physical abuse became too much to manage. So, for her protection, Gina sent her to me.” Popping the cork off the bottle, Jason pours himself a drink.

“Does father know?”

“If he did, she would have been adopted in the family by now.” Jason pours himself another glass. Damian scoffs at the out his brother is drinking.

“Ladybug is hereby declared an enemy of Paris.”

“Tikki, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”  

“What do you mean you’re no longer going to be Ladybug? You’re a true creation soul. A true holder of the ladybug miraculous.”

“Find someone else to do it, Master. You heard the Mayor, I’m an enemy of Paris, no better than Hawkmoth and Mayura.” She hands him the ladybug miraculous. Her red eyes close at the thought of losing her best friend.

Marinette wakes up sweating, her hand immediately reaching for her ears. Nothing. She sighs and curls back up.

“She’s been through a lot Damian, whatever scheme you have in mind leave it be and forget about it.”

Swinging her legs over the bed, Marinette sneaks over to the door. The door opens just enough for her to rest her hand against the doorframe.

“Jay-Jay…” Her voice was a whisper again.

Jason pushes the bottle and glass to the side. He’s by her side examining her. She wasn’t hurt.

“Pixie, you should be sleeping.”

“I had another nightmare.” She tells him. “Who’s your friend?”

Damian shuffles in place. She’s so tiny compare to any of his sisters like the wind could just blow her over without even trying.

“I’m Damian.” He tells her.

Marinette gives him a curt nod. Her eyes lock onto his. They’re green. She could feel her chest tightening. No air could get in or out. The glossy look returns in her eye turn.

Sobbing Marinette screams out, “Je vais le faire, Chat Noir. Je vais le faire, arrête!” She slides the down the doorway.

“Shit,” Jason runs over to Marinette. She blocks her view of Damian. Her lock on the green eyes soon fades to blue. Jason’s eyes. She tightly wraps her arms around his neck. Jason rubs her back. Turning to Damian all while keeping him out of Marinette’s sight, he tells his brother, “We’ll finish this later. Your eye color triggered a memory. And Damian, do not tell anyone about her.”

Damian is frozen in place. So much had happened in the last ten or so minutes. He had met the most beautiful girl he has ever seen and then she has a panic attack, something clearly triggered by previous trauma.

“Okay, I won’t tell.” The youngest Wayne agrees but not without weighing the pros and cons. He left the small rundown apartment with more questions than answers.

Jason turns his attention back to Marinette, who’s sobs turn into sniffles. “He can’t hurt you anymore. He can’t hurt you anymore, Pixie.” Marinette buries her head into Jason’s chest. She takes a deep breath. She can only hope.

Now you've used up all your luck It's time to get what you deserve I'm holding out for KARMA I'm holding out to watch you burn

Years past before Marinette was completely healed. Gina would visit from time to time making sure that her granddaughter was okay. She was ecstatic to find that Marinette was healing even if it was a slow process.

“Are you ready?” Marinette turns to Damian; his green eyes hold so much love and care for her than the green eyes she had grown to hate. Nodding, she takes his hand.

Beyond the doors, a series of lights flashes along with shouts. Reporters are in a frenzy trying to get the latest scoop on the Wayne heir’s beloved. Never once had she made a public appearance.

“Yes, thank you all for coming and showing my family your support. Today marks a very special achievement, my young son proposed to his girlfriend just a couple of days ago much to my second oldest dismay.”

Jason disrupts Bruce’s speech by shouting, “Hey” from his location next to Roy.

“Please welcome my son and his fiancée, Marinette Karma Todd.” Bruce steps away from the podium. The doors behind him open to show Marinette holding hands with Damian. She grips his hand tightly as Damian gives her a reassuring smile.

In Paris, several people are thrown in for a loop. Several lawsuits were issued. Collège Françoise Dupont, the school board was not happy at the treatment of one their student, a student that would grow to become one of the most powerful women out there.

Adrien Agreste, who was outed as Chat Noir, received a sexual harassment charge and a restraining order. The Wayne’s were out for blood and wanted to add attempted rape charge and compensation for all the trauma he had caused Marinette.

Lila Rossi, who managed to keep a tight grip on her classmates was finally exposed. Apparently, her latest lie was about being the mysterious Damian Wayne’s girlfriend. That backfired. She was then hit a cease and desist order along with a restraining order. Marinette had won the war.

Alya, who never learned to check her sources, lost any and every opportunity in her field. She even lost her job because she published a story about her best friend being the Wayne heir’s girlfriend. Thankfully, for the business, that article was only hosted in Paris, but the damage was already done.

Marinette never sent anything to her adopted parents. They didn’t deserve her. She was their servant, someone to help with the bakery. Though they were better than her birth parents, she couldn’t find it in her to ruin their lives. Gina became her legal guardian and that was that.

“I’m so glad that I meet you,” Damian says to her, placing a kiss on her hand. Marinette giggles and pulls Damian in for an embrace.

“I’m the lucky one. You would have thought this would be my future.” Marinette gestures to their growing empire. It was small but with Wayne Enterprise and Damian’s Veterinarian business, they were doing quite fine.

“Can I offer you a dance, Angel?”

“I would love that.”

No music plays just the beat of their hearts as one.

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[nightowlfandom]

I’m a Bad, Bad Man- AU! Criminal! Levi Ackerman X Detective! Reader (Part 1)

I blacked out while writing this...it get's crazy.

So this mini series will have mentions of death, blood, murder, smut, smut with a criminal, mentions of gangs. A. LOT. OF. VIOLENCE. This isn't for the faint of heart...so with all that said, please proceed with caution. I will even include a read more break just incase you don't want to read it all.

Leggo!

...

You lazily wiped the stray hairs off your forehead as you finished typing up your monthly reports. The life of a private investigator has it's ups and downs. This was definitely a down. Super fucking boring.

"Another case closed." you smiled tiredly at yet another victory. There was a reason Y/N L/N was considered the best of the best. "Time for me to-"

You were about to sit back and take a small break when the door to your office slowly opened. A woman walked in, looking as if she saw a ghost and was trying to convince herself she hadn't. You instantly straightened up and put on your professional front. "Can I help you miss?"

"You're Detective L/N, right?" she asked. "Please forgive me, the front desk man said I could walk in."

"Not a problem at all. Who are you?"

"Miya Johnson. I'm sorry Detective, I didn't call in advance. I just didn't know where else to go."

... (Read more below the cut)

"Please, call me Y/N. Have a seat." you immediately unlocked your phone, tapping away at it's screen without breaking eye contact with the woman. You opened up the recording app and readied yourself for what was to come. The woman silently sat down across from you, fidgeting with her fingers. This was normal for new clients. "I hope you don't mind, I always record sessions so I can listen later."

"That's fine." she nodded.

"Good." you had to put up a tough front, it made your job easier. You hit 'record' and went into action. "What seems to be the problem?" Your eyes darted down to the filing folder that seemed to be filled beyond it's capacity. "Take your time, this is a safe place."

"I have reason to believe my dear husband was...murdered." she choked.

"I'm sorry to hear that." you expressed. "Can I ask when the last time you saw him was?"

"Last Friday around 9:30."

"So you cam confirm the last time you saw your husband was last Friday at 9:30." you repeated, just to make sure you heard right.

"Yes. He kissed me goodbye to go to work around 6:00 AM, came back around 9:00 at night with this scared look on his face, told me he loved me and that he'd be back, but he didn't." she seemed eerily calm speaking, but you nodded along. She was probably trying to keep it in. "About four hours later I got from the police telling me a body was found next to the Sleeping Dogs Night Club! It turned out to be his!"

"Miss, excuse my rudeness, but are you sure foul play wasn't involved."

"No, Detective. With all due respect, I have reason to believe he was a target." she held her folder up. "I went through a lot to get these."

"Explain." you raised an eyebrow.

She slid the folder across the table over to you. "He was found with not one, not two, but five bullet wounds, multiple slashes, not to mention several bruises around his neck and arms." her voice cracked. You could tell she was trying to mirror your actions, but couldn't. It was too much. "He was also found with something carved into his right thigh."

You opened the folder to find several pictures of said accident. "Where did you get these?"

"I took a few pictures with my camera when the officers weren't looking." she confessed. "They were telling me it was nothing more than an accident, but even I know that's bullshit."

She was right, this wasn't some random accident. Ever detail down to the area of which his body was found screamed 'routine'.

"So you launched an investigation of your own." you looked up at her. Of course you couldn't blame her. Officers in this town were about as useful as wasps without stingers. You looked back down and flipped through the photos. She was right, exactly as she had described. Her husbands body had bullet wounds in several places, bruises that looked like they had been made in the same place, slashes that looked as if they were meant to symbolize claw marks.

The last photo was a close up of said symbol.

"Why were you at the club?" you looked up again.

"I had gotten a call saying I was needed. I work in forensics. The minute they realized it was my husband's they tried to get me to go home."

You immediately spotted the holes in her story, but went along with it. You weren’t a stranger to stories that didn’t make sense at first, so you didn’t hold it against her. "So at the time when you were called in, you had no idea your husband was dead?"  

"Yes, Detective."

"What happened when you realized it was your husband?"

"They tried to tell me to go home and that they'd get someone else."

"Okay, but you said he came home at 9:00, care to elaborate?”

“I tried to get him to stay. He always had a problem with getting...involved in things. A small argument broke out and that’s when he left, saying he’d be back.”

Obviously this was a result of gang related affairs but there was definitely something this woman wasn’t saying. “Okay, I’ll take your case.”

“Thank you Detective!” she breathed in relief. “I just want answers.”

“And I’m gonna get them. I’m going to give you my work phone. You find anything, you call me.” you grabbed a sticky note and scribbled your number across the square piece of paper. “If you talk to Ryan at the front desk, he’ll take you to our personal scientist to study your pictures close up.” you handed over the folder. “I’ll take over the investigation from here.”

... (Le Time Skip)

You first thought was to go straight for the Sleeping Dogs Night Club, undercover of course.

Your driver had opened the door for you to step out. You pulled at the hem of your dress as you stood up straight. You had to look the part and that meant dressed like you had money to waste on literally nothing. Thanks to the rest of your team for helping you with that part, you strode past the line of patrons waiting to get it. All you had to do was slap several bills on the bouncers chest and he let you in like it was nothing. 

The roar of music had you dazed. The sweaty bodies rubbing on one another disgusted you. How people could do this for fun was beyond you. You were looking for something out of the ordinary, something that didn’t make sense. You walked over to the bar, hoping to gather your thoughts.

“A glass of white wine please.” you leaned against the tables. The bartender nodded and turned his back towards you.

“Never seen you here before.”

You turned your head to your left to see a man facing you. He wore a black shirt with the first few buttons undone with a dark tan jacket. His hair hung in the front of his face but you could tell he had an undercut.

“I don’t party.” you turned your head back towards the bartender.

“Why is that?”

“I just don’t.” you answered dryly. You bit back the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, some asshole is trying to chat you up when it’s obvious you want to be alone. 

“Such a shame, girl like you looks like she loves a good time. I know a few cadets like you that could get crazy if they wanted.”

“I’m not one of those people.” you replied.

“One white wine for the lady.” The bartender set the glass down on the table.

“Put it on my tab, Jeff.” the man took at seat on one of the stools. “and bourbon for me.”

“Yes, Mr. Ackerman.”

That name instantly made you eyes widened. You looked over at the man who had been talking who was still looking at you. Ackerman? As in Levi Ackerman? You allowed your eyes to scan his face, it couldn’t be could it? “Something the matter, sweetheart?”

“No...” you shook your head. You grabbed the glass of the table and went back to your thoughts. You were looking for something off, something out of the blue. 

“Hm...What’s your name?”

“...” you didn’t answer. “You first.”

“Heh, playing that game with me eh?” he huffed with laughter. “Levi...Commander Levi Ackerman.” he reached forward and grabbed your free hand. “At your service, sweetheart.” he kissed your knuckles.

“Commander of...” you expected him to finished his sentence. Of course you already knew. You knew all about the criminal underworld and especially about how this man single-handedly took it over. You had gotten cases and files about this man in the past. You knew all about him. You had caught several of his wannabe proxies, but it was the first time you were meeting him face to face.

Levi let a smile cross his face, a sick smile that told you he was playing a game with you. He released your hand and leaned forward, as if waiting to tell you a secret.

“I think you know...Detective L/N.”

You previously curious look hardened into a harsh glare. You hated yourself for allowing such a filthy man to put his hands on you. Levi Ackerman was probably the most dangerous man alive. There wasn’t a limit to him. He killed his own friends and laughed about it afterwards if they crossed him the wrong way. 

“I know why you’re here.” he continued speaking. Seeing your hate filled gazed, he put his hands up in defense. “I just want to say, whatever you think happened...wasn’t my fault.”

“That’s what every criminal says.” you scoffed. “But since I can’t prove you had anything to do with my case, I can’t tazer you in the balls.”

“I’m just saying.” he shrugged. “I know a lot about you Y/N.”

“So I’m assuming you’re familiar with my case then.” you drank from your glass, clearly unamused.

“I am.” he agreed just as the bartender came back with a glass. “I have agents everywhere.”

“Of course you do.” you scoffed. “Fine. I’ll entertain you for a minute. Why should I believe you have nothing to do with my case?” You finished the remnants of your glass, now very interested in the excuses he was about to use.

“We’ll we can’t really talk here. I don’t talk about work out on the open. Follow me.”

Levi stood up straight and dusted himself off. He began walking off, not looking to see if you were following him or not.

Maybe you were too curious, but you just had to follow him. 

It wouldn’t be the first time your curiosity got you into trouble.

(So it seems like this is gonna be multiple parts. Yay?)

[yeetussfetus]

run.

aight this one is kinda silly, i like it but then i dont ya know anyway the way i got this idea is really weird imma explain it at the end and uh yeah enjoy

words: 2341

warnings: cursing, alcohol, fighting (implied)

Pryce walked down the long hallways with her coffee, along with her many files about the latest rebel activity. To be honest, she was extremely proud of how it turned out. She had worked hard on this particular file the night before, also why this was her 5th cup of coffee that morning. However, she was sure that when high command read the file, it would all be worth it. Of course, considering this was the Empire, she also had low expectations, but no matter what they had to say, she was sure that this was going to be good.

But she was so in thought of her little project that she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going. And in result, she bumped into you. Fortunately she didn’t spill her coffee, but she did drop her files, which was technically a datapad. You reached down to pick it up, and seeing that it was already turned on you read a little bit of the file. Pryce did not stop you, as she wanted to see what you would say about her hard work. 

You smiled politely while reading it, “Wow, Pryce, this is really good. I’m sure high command will agree.'' Pryce's pride shot through the roof, but it immediately died out when your smile dropped. “Oh, you have a typo here. It’s supposed to be ‘their’ not ‘they’re’.”

Handing it back to Pryce, you started to walk towards your destination. You turned back to give her a comforting smile. “I’m sure the high command won’t notice, though. See you around!”

Watching you walk off, she gripped the datapad with unknown force. “I fucking hate my job.” 

Deciding that the high command could go fuck themselves, she headed towards the bridge where they would be waiting for her work.

--------

Eli was actually surprised with how well Pryce’s work was. Not saying that she was terrible at her job, but this was extremely well put. Besides a few typos, but if the rest of the officers wanted to bitch they could bitch.

Thrawn was certainly impressed, and even though it might’ve been hard to read it, it was obvious that he was from his almost non existent facial expressions. He turned to look towards you to see if you were the same way, but he didn’t see you at all. He looked around the bridge, only to see that you weren’t there. Were you late? No, if you were, you would’ve been here by now. 

Thrawn seemed to see how confused Eli was, and leaned towards him. “If you’re wondering what they mean by the attacks on naboo, they mean the ones that happened last week.” Eli turned to him, a little offended that he thought Eli didn’t understand what they were talking about. “Yeah, I got that, I’m trying to look for _____, have you seen her?”

Thrawn straightened himself, before replying, “Last I heard, she was heading to Tarkin's fleet for a meeting. She will be back by tonight, so do not worry.” Eli felt a little hurt that you wouldn’t tell him, but then again, Tarkin liked to pull you from Thrawn's fleet for random meetings, probably just shit talking sessions, so he didn’t hold it against you.

They all turned their heads towards the intercoms when they heard the long ‘beep’ that played out when something long was about to be announced. Eli sighed and waited for a few seconds. But nothing played. Confused, he looked around the room to see if everyone else had heard it. They did, and they were all looking confused as well. Then, there was the faintest sound of audio being picked up, before it seemed to be… playing a recording.

Before anyone was able to ask what was going on, strange music started to play through the halls, and then Eli realized that the song that was playing was the “Coconut Mall” theme from Mario Kart. It got a little louder, then a little  lower, before it stopped being adjusted. 

Everyone in the room just stood there, listening to the theme song, wondering what the hell was happening. Finally, after almost 2 minutes, the song ended. Thrawn stared at the intercoms with a slight glare, but he turned back to the group to talk about Pryce’s excellent work  but got interrupted when something else started to play. This time it was caramelldansen, out of all the songs. 

Eli turned to his datapad and opened a new browser and looked at the security cameras, where he then went to the area where they would play the weekly announcements or just emergency alerts. However, the place was in shambles, with the people who were supposed to be controlling the comms were all trying to stop whoever was messing with them. Eli tapped thrawn on the shoulder and showed him the camera footage. Thrawn stared at the panicking staff, before he pulled out his own comm, which could technically be broadcasted to the entire ship and walked over to one of the control panels and inserted it into the panel. 

After a bit of typing, he was pleased with what he could do, and pushed a button that would technically override the comms, but before he even spoke, the control panel beeped, before a error message played out on the screen, reading, “CANNOT OVERRIDE EMERGENCY COMM”. Thrawn seemed to be even more confused, and continued to type away at the panel, but the same error just appeared on the screen. The typing started to become louder and louder almost as if he was trying to drown out the song that was playing overhead, but it was no use. 

Whoever planned this was extremely smart in making sure that they wouldn’t be able to get the comms fixed. Finally, in an act of frustration, Thrawn just raised his fist and banged it onto the screen panel. However, the spinning wheel of death came to a halt, revealing the words, “CANNOT OVERRIDE EMERGENCY COMM”. With this, thrawn took out his comm, and then tried to broadcast his own voice, but the same message played. By this point, the song was almost over, and everyone thought that this would be it. Whoever was playing this prank was sure that they were going to be caught.

But unfortunately, it didn’t.

After a few seconds, a new song played. All Star by Smash Mouth. 

By this point many of the technicians were heading towards the intercom area, to see what the hell was going on. Most of the crew on the bridge were impatiently waiting for the speakers to be fixed and so that they could find whoever was playing the songs. Pryce looked like she wanted to murder someone for ruining her presentation, and Thrawn had a resting bitch face, which eli was able to tell from the way he would galre at anything and anyone. 

The first time the song ended, everyone was waiting for which new weird song would play. But the same song repeated itself. Which was weird, considering the fact that they had played a different song each time. But Thrawn didn’t seem to care, simply talking over the song telling people to resume their normal duties and that the song should be down by the end of the day. How wrong he was.

The song played for a third time, and at this point Eli was starting to focus more on the song then his work. Whoever is doing this is gonna wish that they were hiding…

Then, a fourth time. Pryce came into Thrawn's office where Eli resided with Thrawn, because, well, Thrawn had his room soundproof, so that he could scream in peace when the Empire was complete bullshit. Since the speakers in his room were designed to be quieter so he could work in peace, it was a godsend for Eli, especially now. 

The fifth time it played, it almost seemed as if the quiet speakers were useless. Eli was starting to get the song stuck in his head and it was bothering the hell out of him. Pryce was trying to revise her presentation in case she missed something, but everytime she went to edit it, her brain tried to write the words she was hearing. Thrawn was just about ready to reveal a flask filled with alcohol if the song didn’t stop.

The sixth time was when shit hit the fan. In the middle of the song, Eli heard running from outside the door, and he then heard, “WHICH ONE OF YOU FUCKS ARE DOING THIS, I’M GONNA BEAT YOU ALL TO-” and then the sound of people fighting each other. Someone probably got tackled to the ground. Eli didn’t even want to go outside to see what was happening.

The seventh time was complete insanity, Eli was able to hear the screaming and fighting outside. He had no idea how this would have happened on the ship, but it was absolute chaos. Looking at the security footage, there were at least 6 different viewpoints with multiple fights. He was just about to call a goddamn containment breach.

Then, out of nowhere, a new song started to play. It was Wii music. He was almost able to hear the cries of relief from the crew, and as it played he tried to fall asleep to drown out his problems. He listened to the calming music of the speakers that brought peace to his mind, and he was about to fall asleep, when.

“SOMEBODY ONCE TOLD ME,” 

Screams could be heard from across the ship as the eight time, and people started up their fights again. Eli saw from the corner of his eye Thrawn pulling out a datapad and he started to type to someone. This continued for a minute before he pulled out a holopad and turned it on. He pulled out your contact and called you. When you answered you were sitting down somewhere, holding a random datapad probably from Tarkin.

“Thrawn? Are you good?” Thrawn seemed almost to cry in relief when you answered his call. “No, my dear, I am not.” He then went on to explain the situation, before he hung his head low, almost wanting to die having to explain this to you of all people. You stared at him for a moment, before reassuring him, “Don’t worry, I’ll get them to send someone with experience to help you out. They’ll be there in about half an hour.”

Well. Could be worse. Eli found two pillows and stuck them on his ears trying to drown out the song.

------

The ships came earlier than expected. Then again, the place where Tarkin usually resided wasn’t too far from their post, but he wasn’t expecting Tarkin to bring about 4 ISD to the scene. 

However, it became apparent why when Tarkin stepped off the smaller ship that had been sent out. Along with you. The song had still been playing, the goddamn tone was getting to Eli so much. 

Walking through the halls was a mess in itself. People were trying to restrain others, they were fighting each other, it reminded you of the time the whole Life Day incident happened. But this wasn’t the same. 

When the two of you finally reached Thrawn's office, the place had been put on lockdown, still the damn song playing. You did have to admit it was starting to get annoying having to hear it on repeat. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like for an hour.

Walking into Thrawn's office, you saw Eli in the corner, on the floor, with two pillows held up against his ears, Pryce sitting on one of the chairs with her elbows on her knees, head down, and her hands covering her ears, and Thrawn had a tipped over flask on his desk. Overall? A fucking mess.

However, before anyone could explain anything, the music stopped mid play. It was a relief to everyone. Pryce lifted her head like she was seeing an angel for the first time. Thrawn looked almost the same, but his eyes held relief. Eli didn’t hear it stop because the pillows were so good as sound blockers that he didn’t have to worry. 

Tarkin gave a smirk, before asking, “So, you needed help with what exactly?”

------

That same day Thrawn held a bounty to whoever could find out who did the prank. A lesser reward for whoever had any info on them, but it was all the same. The ship had to be cleaned up from the whole ordeal. Multiple cleaning crews from other ships had to be requested. Even the Emperor got attention for what happened and had a good laugh (in private). 

Vader was supposed to appear for a meeting the next day, but it had to be postponed from the damage.

You, Thrawn and Eli had a secondary, more private meeting in Thrawn's office, where Eli explained what happened. You had to hide your laugh as a cough, which worked better than expected.

After the mini meeting was over, Thrawn left, but you asked Eli to stay for details on what happened that you knew Thrawn wouldn’t want to remember. Eli begrudgingly agreed and told you what happened in detail. You had a good laugh, and Eli did as well, long forgetting his anger towards the situation. After a bit of laughs, you gathered your things, telling Eli that you would be getting on with the report you had to give to Tarkin about the situation.

However, before you left, you turned back to face him. “You know, I’m surprised that those emergency comms had that much range. I was expecting it to die out, you know? But I guess they’re called emergency comms for something.”

Eli stopped, dead in his tracks, and turned back to face you. You gave an innocent smile, before saying, “Hope you didn’t mind. See you around, Eli.”

Eli was left with a feeling of betrayal from one of his closest friends, and a feeling of emptiness.

------

did it. ok so the way how i got this was that i was scrolling through someones blog and i found a funny video about john mulaney and that whats new pussycat and i was like oh hey didnt something happen to my brother and so i asked him about it and long story short in highschool someone had played pumped up kicks like 3 times i think and there was a fight somehow that ended up with someone going to the hospital so yeah. also i havent edited this much so pls tell me of any mistakes lmao anyway heres the guys who imma tag:

@theninjahobbit666 @danger-xylophones @justalittlecloud @queenie-chi-cosplay @ssevent33n @fallenrepublick

[ricksbowen]

one more time | pt. 4

IN WHICH: a nighttime visit turns into a whole other session.

INSPIRATION: she — harry styles, the less i know the better — tame impala

WARNING: this series will have smut in it and is pretty sexual all around ( read with caution ). there are implications of sex right off the bat, and everyone is 18+ and in their senior year. there’s also family problems mentioned.

pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6

The sound of his doorbell going off terrified Ricky in more ways than he wanted to admit.

He had spent five minutes getting ready to answer the door. The metal bat in his hand and the comical hockey helmet he put on were only precautions; who would ring at 12:16 AM? It only had to be a serial killer, and Ricky Bowen wasn’t going to be one of the stupid teens in every horror movie ever.

He was smart. He’d beat them up.

“Okay, Ricky. Just open the door.” Ricky jumped on the balls of his feet, his eyes trailing up to the peephole on his door. He nodded to himself, turning his head to crack it as he continued to hype himself up. “Peephole. Right— peepholes are great,” Ricky muttered, peering through the small hole.

You were standing outside. The rain that was pouring outside didn’t seem to phase you as you stared at the red rain boots you wore.

Ricky’s shoulders slumped ( he totally wasn’t excited for a serial killer to be at his door ) at the sight of you, relief coursing through his veins as he opened the door. Leaning cooly against his doorframe, Ricky managed a smirk past the hockey helmet over his head. “You look glum.”

“And you look stupid— who did you think was at the door?” You retorted, an eyebrow raising in question.

“Freddie Krueger. Jason Voorhees,” Ricky counted the names on his fingers, and even your sadness couldn’t stop the smile that crept on your face. “Hannibal Lector, the live-action Cat in the Hat—“

“You were scared of that movie?” you asked, cocking a brow in amusement. “I should’ve known you were a pussy,” you remarked, laughing softly at the ‘hey!’ he let out. You ducked under his arm, entering his house and shaking the rain from your hair like a wet dog.

“Umbrellas are a great invention.”

“Shut up, Bowen.” You shrugged off your coat, hanging it up alongside the other coats. You knew he was looking at you; rarely did you ever come to his house without a warning. “Stop staring.”

“I’m not,” Ricky retorted, averting his eyes to anything that wasn’t you. He pulled the hockey helmet off his face, shaking the mess of hair he had on his head. He watched you from his peripheral vision, your actions less lively than usual as you made your way to his kitchen. “I’m guessing you didn’t sneak out just for the hell of it.”

“Usually I do,” you answered, eyes darting up and down his pantry for anything edible. You knew you left some chips from the last time you were here. “My parents were arguing again. They were too loud, so,” you reached up for the familiar bag of chips. “I came here.” You didn’t want to get into the details of your parents’ problems. Ricky already knew most of them, from the growing rumors of an affair to your mom’s want to leave both you and your dad. “The only time they can get along is when they’re yelling at me,” you added quietly, almost inaudible.

“Stay as long as you want,” Ricky hummed, coming up behind you and reaching for a box of cereal. You always ranted to him because you knew he understood what you were going through. After everything that happened between his parents in his junior year, how could he not? “I can put on a movie or something.”

“Horror?”

“Sure. We can pick it apart like we always do,” Ricky said with a crooked grin, one that made you smile back. “We are still allowed to do stuff like that, right?”

“Like what?” you asked, making your way to his couch and flopping down on it.

“Normal friend stuff. I mean, we’ve had sex,” Ricky paused, staring up at his ceiling in thought. “Multiple times, In a lot of places,” he turned to the couch where you sat, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Your point?”

“Wouldn’t it be weird?”

“It hasn’t been weird,” you stated, sending him a puzzled look. “Has it been weird for you?”

“No!”

“Then what’s makin’ you change your mind?” you pressed further, the overwhelming feeling of curiosity making you ask him.

Ricky let out a sigh, clicking on a random movie. It seemed cliche enough; teenagers lost in the woods. Normally, the most cliche ones were the funniest ones to pick apart. He threw the remote back onto the living room table. “This girl asked me on a date today.”

Your eyebrows raised, surprised at the lack of emotion you had as you nodded. “Who? What’d you say?” you asked with a beaming smile, shaking him gently and making him let out another loud sigh. He picked a random horror movie, not bothering to look at the summary as he put it on.

“Just this girl I got paired up with for science. I went out with her today.”

“And? You can’t just leave it at that!” you pressed on, leaning into him with a cocked brow. Why didn’t he tell you? Usually you’d help him out with everything when it came to date, from what he was supposed to wear to where he was going to take her.

“She sucked; she kept on judging every little thing I did. All the jokes I made?” Ricky sucked in a breath, feigning disappointment. “She took them too seriously. When I said that I’d kill for a burrito, I actually don’t mean it,” he said, trying to keep a straight face as he felt you hit him as you laughed.

“Holy shit, she thought you were gonna kill someone?” you forced out behind bundles of laughter, throwing your head back as more guffaws left your chest. “I’m sorry, it’s just—“ you cut yourself off, a string of uncontrollable giggles following and making him bite back a grin.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, giggles,” Ricky said, words dripping with sarcasm as he looked at you from his peripheral vision. “I hope a jumpscare bites you in the ass,” he muttered.

“Aw, Ricky,” you sing-songed, nudging him playfully with a shit eating grin. “I’m sorry,” you said, your smile anything but sorry. Ricky still refused to look at you, faking the silent treatment and making you sigh. Ricky pulled his eyes away from the movie, setting them onto you and raising a brow.

“Are you really?”

“No, not much,” you grinned, and Ricky chuckled as he shook his head. He felt you move closer to him, putting your head on his shoulder like you always did when you both had movie nights. It was nothing but platonic.

The movie was watched in silence, the beginning dragging on for longer than you liked before the first teen separated from the group.

“She’s so gonna die,” you muttered, head still on Ricky’s shoulder. You felt him nod, eyes focused on the screen, and the music from the T.V picked up. The tension grew along with the devilish idea in your head. Ricky was staring at the screen with wide eyes, goosebumps rising on his skin, and the girl opened the door—

You let out a yelp. Ricky screamed bloody murder.

Ricky’s chest heaved, hand on his chest as he stared at you with frightened eyes. You were laughing, practically falling off the couch in laughter. Ricky swore he saw tears in your eyes.

“Y/N, stop,” Ricky whined, his high-pitched voice only making you laugh harder and clutch your stomach.

“I forgot how easy you were to scare!” you giggled, trying to calm yourself by breathing deeply.

“Please don’t do it again,” Ricky muttered, face burning with embarrassment.

“Or what?” you challenged, the smile on your face contrasting your glum expression moments before. It felt nice to smile, to laugh without having to worry about people yelling at you to stop. Usually, that was how things worked at your house.

Ricky moved closer to you, your smile faltering just a bit at the slightly determined look in his eyes. You knew the game he was playing.

“What’re you gonna do about it, Bowen?” you joked, knowing fully well what you were doing with him. You saw the way he clenched his jaw, and how the movie suddenly sank into the background as his attention was focused on you.

Ricky leaned forward just as you did, your lips pressing against each other. Your hands go to the sides of his head, pulling him down over you as your back hit the couch. Ricky hovered over you, deepening the kiss and making you let out a small moan in response.

He detached his lips from yours before reattaching them to your neck, making you tilt your head back to give him more space. You felt Ricky’s lips go down, his lips sucking a mark right above where your sweatshirt started to cover your skin. You felt him bite down, making you gasp, and you could practically hear him smirk smugly at the reaction.

Ricky’s hands tugged your sweatshirt up in a silent plea for it to come off, shivers running up and down his body when he felt your hands trail underneath his shirt. Wordlessly, you sat up and tugged it over your head, throwing it somewhere in the living room. You lifted your hips, pulling your pants off and revealing the black panties you wore.

Ricky swore he forgot how to breathe.

In turn, you tugged his shirt off, tossing it behind him. You pulled his joggers down, letting out a laugh when his lanky legs got stuck in them. Ricky sent you a sheepish grin, pulling them down his legs as quickly as he could. That too was thrown behind him, and you pushed him back, making his back hit the couch.

You straddled him, listening to the groan he let out when he felt you grind onto him. Ricky was looking up at you through his eyelashes, his mouth slightly agape as he breathed heavily. It was sinful how innocent he looked under you, gazing at you as if you were a goddess on earth.

To him, you were. To him, you had to be the most beautiful person, inside and out.

You looked down at him, leaning down to his neck and attaching your lips to his skin. Ricky let out a whine when he felt you suck in a mark right under his hear, the sound influencing you in more ways than one.

“Protection?” Ricky breathed, eyes shutting tight when he felt you grind down against him again. You were teasing him, the equally teasing smile on your mouth making him melt into a puddle.

“I’m on the pill,” you mumbled, pulling away from his neck and hovering over his dace. Your eyes were hungry and dominating, sending a sense of thrill down Ricky’s spine as he looked back at you with a lustful haze. It was obvious that he was enjoying it, being under you and having you tower over him.

Your hands went up to his neck, fingers wrapping around it as you grinded down onto him. He let out a moan, hips bucking up subconsciously at your movements. Your hand pressed against his throat only spurred him on more.

You pushed your panties aside.

—

The sunlight hit you in the face, making you rub the sleep away from your eyes.

You and Ricky had made it up to his room after having a few rounds on his couch. The stamina you both had was unbelievable, even for Ricky ( who you knew secretly loved working out ).

You opened your eyes, succumbing to the bright light shining through. The cotton white sheets that covered your naked frame brought you warmth, and you gently stretched. Only when you moved did you notice the arms that were wrapped around you, pulling you close to him.

Ricky never did that. He knew that you didn’t like having arms wrapped around you after sex.

You pulled his arms off of you, heart beating rapidly in your chest as you moved to the other edge of the bed. It brought back too many painful memories of him. Ones you never wanted to remember.

“Luka!” you squealed, head thrown back in laughter when you felt the arms that were once sleepily wrapped around you poke you in the stomach. You turned to him, face-to-face with your boyfriend.

“Aw, I never knew you were ticklish, babe,” Luka said, the crooked smile on his face making you roll your eyes. The sunlight that shone through his windows hit him perfectly, showing you the freckles that littered his skin. Your finger reached up, gently touching each of the little kisses of sun that were on his face. You moved your finger between them, connecting them like dots.

“What’re you doing?” Luka asked softly, cerulean blues observing your face.

“Counting your freckles,” you replied, making a smile appear on his face as he pulled you close to him. You turned around, making yourself the little spoon as he held you closer to him.

You moved your legs to the side of his bed, letting them hang off the edge. You let out a shaky exhale, the feeling of Ricky’s hands on your waist burned into your skin. You reached for his drawer, opening it and grabbing a random shirt. You pulled it over your head, standing up and stretching the tension away.

You hated how even the little things reminded you of him.

“Y/N? Are you leaving?” You heard Ricky’s groggy voice ask, his head peeking out from his blankets. His curls were like a bird’s nest, messed up from your hands sifting and roughly tugging on his hair last night.

“No— I can’t do that to you, you know that,” your words were soft, almost pointed towards yourself as you climbed back into bed. You pulled the blankets over you, making sure you kept a distance away from him.

“You okay?” Ricky asked, voice gentle and inviting as he gazed at you. He wasn’t blind to the sudden space between you both, his choice of wrapping his arms around you not even a memory in his mind. You knew he didn’t mean it, that he had always liked holding onto others, but the feeling always left you pained.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled, your eyes meeting beautiful hazel ones as he looked at you.

Ricky observed you, taking in the little details. The messiness of your hair. The small amount of mascara that was smudged under your eye. The blooming hickeys he left on your neck that led to unholy placed under his own shirt. The way your eyes drooped because it was too early for you, and how your hair was a mess of tangles thanks to his hands running through them the night before.

Something changed when he looked at you. Ricky’s mouth fell agape at that moment, and something clicked.

He didn’t know what his epiphany was, but he didn’t want to find out.

—

TAGS: @tomshufflepuff​, @myrandom-fandomlife, @softpeteparker​, @sarcarstic-space-weirdo​, @particularcth​, @lifes-a-party-youre-a-boy, @paniniirae, @supersouthy​, @jointherebellion215, @gabyer0309​, @hannarudick​, @broken-from-fandoms​, @complete-trash-101, @ssprayberrythings​, @raven-waheda, @timelordtardis​, @chubby-cheek-calum, @nicole-lynne​, @loserr-likeme​, @whoseblogsthis​, @stxfxniexreads, @cherrydolan​, @allaroundaddict, @of-outerspace​, @blueevelvt, @kitykatnumber, @rocketdolans, @givemebooksorgivemedeath, @80sthottie

[iwaisa]

► now playing...

- pairing. atsumu x female reader

- genre. childhood friends to lovers / college au

- warnings. mentions of alcohol and drugs, suggestive content

- word count. 2.2k+

- key. n/n - nickname

- a/n. it’s a day late, but happy birthday atsumu !

everyone claimed that you and your best friend of almost thirteen years, atsumu miya, were polar opposites. he was the more rambunctious one of the pair, and you were the one getting him out of trouble with your soothing words and personality. in fact, everyone claimed that you and osamu were the twins, cutting atsumu out of the picture.

of course, being best friends with the crazier twin had its perks; he would bring you out of your comfort zone and help you experience things you never expected to enjoy as much as you did. one of those experiences happened to be a house party. 

atsumu never made you uncomfortable, and if you communicated with him that you absolutely did not want to do something he was offering, he would listen. but, you agreed to this party simply because you wanted to let loose, or rather, show atsumu what he was missing.

yes, it’s the classic falling in love with your childhood best friend, but in this story, the person confessing gets interrupted. multiple times. this eventually led to you giving up, and focusing on your academics instead.

the first instance happened in the sixth grade on valentines day. osamu helped you confess to his brother by making him honmei chocolates in heart shapes. you were extremely nervous, and practically shaking in your shoes when you saw atsumu come out of the classroom where you were standing. 

“hey, n/n! what’re ya doin’?” he ditched his friend and ran up to you, his deep golden eyes instantly landing on the pink and red box you were clutching. 

“oooh~ n/n-chan’s got a crush~!” he teased, pulling your cheeks out, rolling the flesh between his fingers. you scoffed and pushed him away, with him whining in return.

“who is it? tell me~! tell me, tell me, tell me-” you cut him off by putting a finger up to his lips, “‘tsumu, if you don’t shut up right now i’ll make sure osamu never cooks for you again,” you crossed your arms, content at the way your friend pouted.

“but n/n~ i’m yer best friend! i can help! i have good advice, right?” he continued to sulk as the two of you made your way home. “i’m not telling,” you huffed, fumbling with the bow sitting atop the box. atsumu opened his mouth to retort, only to be cut off by a girl screaming his name. 

you watched as she ran up to your friend with a hint of hesitance in her actions. atsumu towered over her playfully, making her face turn red. you held your breath knowing what she was about to do, and you realized you wouldn’t be able to do what you have been preparing all week for.

“miya-san, i like you!” she exclaimed, bowing as she held out her own honmei chocolates. atsumu let out a playful gasp before glancing over to you to wink. you tried to wipe the dejected look off your face, but you couldn’t find it in you to. you thought atsumu and the girl looked good together, as much as you hated to admit.

“ah, i’m sorry!” atsumu started, scratching his neck. “i like someone else! but don’t ya worry! ‘samu has the same face as me, why don’t ya ask him?”

you couldn’t help but chuckle at the current predicament, but you instantly shut up once the girl snapped her head to glare at you. 

you watched as tears began welling up in the girl’s eyes, and she apologized before bolting the opposite direction. he shrugged, and continued walking with a slight pep in his step.

“you didn’t have to be so rude, ‘tsumu,” you muttered.

“eh? but i don’t like her! i’m just speakin’ the truth, ya know?” he sighed.

you never got the chance to give atsumu those chocolates you spent so much time on, so you and osamu decided to eat them together. the calm twin apologized on behalf of his idiot brother, and helped you build your confidence back up.

the second time was in your second year of high school when you and the twins were hanging out at his house watching a volleyball tournament on the television. instead of watching the screen, atsumu continued talking about the girl who had confessed to him that day.

“-and then she tripped while running up to me! it was kinda funny,” the faux-blond chuckled. “‘tsumu that’s not something ya should be laughing about. it looked really painful,” osamu chided. atsumu retorted by sticking his tongue out at the silver-haired boy. you stayed quiet, counting the many girls who have had the guts to tell atsumu their feelings. that was excluding you.

both you and osamu were equally annoyed at how ignorant atsumu was, and you felt as though you should just give up.

“say, n/n. do ya have a crush on someone right now? you haven’t dated anyone yet, loser.” you stuck your tongue out at atsumu, and he snickered in response.

“‘tsumu, ya haven’t dated anyone either,” osamu sighed, reaching over the two of you to grab more popcorn from the bowl resting in your lap.

“shut yer trap, ‘samu! like ya’ve dated anyone!” atsumu flipped osamu off, making him sigh.

“actually, i have. last year,” osamu smirked, knowing he’s got his brother topped in the relationship category. 

“yeah, for like, two weeks,” you muttered under your breath.

“f/n, i thought we were buddies,” osamu frowned, making you laugh. “it’s not my fault she didn’t like cooking as much as i do,” he defended.

“why don’t ya just date food then?” atsumu mocked.

“what about ya, ‘tsumu? why don’t ya just date volleyball?”

“if i could i would! i don’t have time for relationships if i wanna be a pro anyways. besides, relationships are stupid.”

you felt your heart drop. so much for you and osamu planning a way for you to finally tell him your feelings.

osamu watched your face change in disappointment, and he hit his twin on the head. the twins began arguing as you kept your eyes glued to the screen, trying to push your feelings for someone who didn’t even want to date out of your head.

by the time the three of you went off to college, you had almost forgotten about those times, along with your feelings for the boy. yet here you were, standing in an outfit you deemed ‘too revealing’ while waiting for the blond twin to pick you up.

you searched for your phone and laid down on your couch. you were in the middle of scrolling mindlessly through your social media before you heard a knock and a familiar voice at the door. “oh princess~? ya ready to go?” you rolled your eyes, grabbing your purse. you stopped before opening the door, attempting to calm your beating heart. 

you exhaled, pushing open the door. you watched as atsumu began stumbling over his words as his jaw dropped open, with his eyes scanning over your body. his eyes dropped from the exposed skin above your breasts, to your plush thighs beneath the short skirt.

“you done drooling?” you teased. in that moment, you felt pretty damn good. it was natural for you each morning before classes to just jump into some pants and an oversized sweatshirt, not worrying it looked as if you just rolled out of bed. 

atsumu on the other hand wasn’t doing so well. as the two of you grew up, he never once saw you wearing an outfit this enticing. he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back if he saw another guy gawk at you. he felt the sudden urge to place his jacket over your very sexy shoulders, but after seeing your excited face he knew better than to ruin this for you.

the party wasn’t interesting at all to you. a couple people making out here, a group playing a drinking game there, and most unfortunately for you, atsumu was nowhere to be seen. for the first twenty minutes of being there, you were already bored and in need of a nice shower. instead of sitting at a table in a near-empty room, you decided to take initiative and search for your idiot of a friend instead of just texting him.

as you searched through the rooms, you couldn’t help but grow more anxious. you found an empty room, and decided to wait there for atsumu to call you.

it felt like hours since you entered the room, and you were now laying on a couch tapping your foot along with the faint music bumping outside. you snapped your head up upon hearing the door slide open, and you watched as atsumu waved at you.

“where’ve ya been?” he picked up your feet and sat on the couch, carefully placing your legs on his lap. “trying to find you, idiot.” he hummed, pursing his lips. “sorry for ditching ya. i was talking to suna and some other people on the team.” you nodded in understanding.

the two of you basked in the silence, with the music outside being the only noise. “ya got any dudes’ numbers tonight?” atsumu teased. you punched his arm, shaking your head as he chuckled. “you get any girls’ numbers?” you instantly regretting asking him, growing nervous that he would say yes.

“nah. i’m too busy for any of that stuff. volleyball, remember?” you nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. “although, i am kinda disappointed i haven’t been able to tell this one girl that i like her.” you bit your lip, trying not to show that those words had just stabbed through your heart. after asking who it was, he responded with a simple “can’t tell ya.” you rolled your eyes. “i’ll give you two-thousand yen if you text her right now.” what were you doing? why were you encouraging him to do something you’ve always been scared of? if you were so nervous about him finally getting a girlfriend, why did you just push him to confess to someone? “oh yeah? two-thousand yen then, please.” he chuckled as he held out his hand. “nuh uh. you gotta text her first, and then i’ll pay you.” he clicked his tongue and dropped his hand. 

you watched as he fished his phone out of his pocket, and you felt your stomach knotting up with each growing second. your heart was pounding uncontrollably, and all you wanted to do was run away. you pictured atsumu holding hands with another girl, kissing another girl, doing other things with another girl. that girl would never be you. 

you swung your legs off his lap, standing up to smooth out your skirt. you began making your way towards the door, and you watched as atsumu looked up to you in confusion. “where’re ya goin’?” he tilted his head, his brows furrowing. “i think i’m gonna head home. i’m a little tired.”

“well aren’t ya gonna check yer phone first?”

your mouth dropped open, and you felt your heartbeat begin to pick up again. you began trembling as you reached for the pocket of your purse, slowly pulling your phone out. you kept eye contact with the boy even as you pressed the button on your phone. he smirked as you glanced down to see your contact name for atsumu on the screen, letting out a quiet gasp.

“atsumu miya, this better not be a fucking joke,” you muttered, glaring at him. “if it was a joke i would be laughing, f/n.”

you swiped open your phone, bringing up the chat between you and the faux-blond boy. 

you looked up from your phone, glaring at him. “ha ha. funny. you almost got me.”

“i’m serious, f/n.” your breath hitched in your throat as atsumu got up from the couch and began walking towards you. “i really like ya.” you felt your heart swell before speaking up, “i like you too, ‘tsumu. since sixth grade, actually.” you watched as he grinned, laughing at how much of a dork he looked like. 

the two of you stared at each other for a while, and you shifted your weight to the other foot. you flinched in sudden pain from your heels, seething. “i hate to cut this short, but can we please leave? my heels are killing me,” you chuckled softly. atsumu nodded, bending down in front of you. furrowing your eyebrows, you asked him what he was doing. “hop on my back, idiot. i’m not letting ya walk home in those heels.”

you smiled as you shook your head, slowly climbing onto atsumu’s back. the two of you laughed as he spun around, your arms comfortably fit around his neck. you leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, startling him. he turned his head to look at you, allowing you to capture his lips with yours. he hummed, reaching his hand up to stroke your cheek. 

breaking the kiss, you watched as the corners of his lips quirked into a goofy smile. “alright, time to go home,” he sighed in contentment, patting your legs. “wanna stay over tonight?” he nodded his head eagerly, “i would love to sleep over at my new girlfriend’s apartment.” you groaned in embarrassment at his statement as he laughed boisterously. 

you leaned down, resting your cheek on his shoulder. you closed your eyes as he made his made his way to the front door, finally happy to heading back to spend some genuine alone time with your idiot of a boyfriend.

[tlanwen]

Every time wenzhou should have (or could have) kissed in the entirety of Word of Honor (2021)

a few disclaimers- 1; MEGA spoilers for the whole entire show. yes, all the way up to episode 36. 2; we have gotten so so many sweet moments in this drama and there is no doubt in my mind that the production crew did their absolute damnedest to give us a genuine love story with all the constraints that were set on them. they did a fucking incredible job and the lengths they went to to embody wenzhou’s love and bond on screen is commendable to say the least. and i owe them my life. However i just think said sweet scenes just scream ok now kiss at very specific moments, and i need to get it out of my system. Long ass fucking post under cut!

are you strapped in. ok let’s go

The rooftop scene (Episode 9)

earlier in this ep we get the legendary “the world isn’t important, what’s important is finding your soulmate” monologue, perfect setup leading up to their rooftop drinking date. the “why won’t you ask me why i’m happy?”// “i know you’ll tell me, in your own time” exchange??? a killer. a kiss would fit in perfectly, ideally right after zzs shushes wkx (and wkx shuts his mouth. for once). quite literally this moment is Made for a first kiss.

“You look like a worried mother“ // drinking by the road (Episode 12)

man, this episode. I can’t decide which moment is more suitable (and both happen in busy streets so that rains a little on our emotional parade), but at this point we’ve got acknowledgement on both sides that they’re willing to accept each other as the people they truly are, and they’ve rescued their surrogate son from impending doom twice. but i am leaning towards the latter scene, esp bc of the way zzs leans into wkx while they’re talking. he hasn’t done that much up until now. kiss kiss.

Talking about disguises & mustaches (and getting on one’s knees?¿) (Episode 13)

this scene is so fucking sugary and light, they’re just teasing back and forth (zzs! teasing wkx! that’s new!). we also get the severely cute “wait, did you just admit that my face is outstanding?” line. just kiss already.

Rain divorce (Episode 14)

angst? did someone say, pain? if this were a regular boring romance flick, this is were the tragedy-ridden kiss would go. wkx is watching the future he planned for both of them crumble right in front of him, trying to come to terms with the fact that zzs is dying (and that he did it to himself, on purpose.), and zzs is just kind of going thru it. the rain really would add to the drama of it all, like Right after the “fortunately, fortunately...” line. punctuate it with a kiss. would also add to the irony of wkx saying he hasn’t fallen yet, and yet here he is, a mess, bc of this information he wasn’t ready to receive (thanks ye baiyi).

3rd child rescue and cave chats (Episode 16)

we’ve had the angst, we have the begrudging /i’m mad at you and i love you but i dont like you right now/ moments, and in comes more rain and wkx monologuing. zzs saying that wkx isn’t evil and that he has a kind heart is exactly what he needed to hear. and i just think he should’ve finished it with a kiss <3

Drunk mess wkx (Episode 17)

why is this man allowed to drink. this is all so much take your fucking pick. after the “my lips are the perfect size, right A-xu?” comment, the ”does it hurt?” coupled with wkx’s hand reaching out to zzs’ chest. the “i’m just scared. could you not die on me?”?? zzs tucking in a very drunk and sad man and saying “one day you’ll open up your heart to me, until i achieve it even god can’t tear me away from you” just............. pick a line any line. 

Tumbling out of the cave under Longyuan Cabinet (Episode 18)

specifically in that birds-eye shot where it slowly pans over to their disheveled faces after the romcom-esque tumbling out of the tunnel (that was framed oh so romantically in the episode trailer. complete with romantic music). like are you Kidding me. 

((i’m skipping ep 19-21. i think some people would say at any point during the cave scenes/the shidi/shixiong reveal would also be fair game, but in my opinion it’s far too much of an emotionally volatile situation so i can’t see any kiss potential. the hand holding and comforting was much appreciated tho))

Wkx sneaking up on his deep-in-thoughts husband (Episode 22)

secluded lake? check. all alone? check. gentle smiles in a tense moment? we got a bingo. at this point zzs knows who wkx actually is And respects his decision to go by his own chosen name as a separate entity from the healer sect he came from (for his own personal, maybe misguided reasons). and i just think that *screams*

Waking up from the stress induced sleep (thru the power of hand holding?) (Episode 23)

this whole thing was so much, and the way the scene is framed to look like it was zzs’ touch that literally woke up wkx, And the way he looks at him after he wakes up. yea. kiss methinks.

Literally the entirety of the night time venting/healing/spilling ur guts out scene (Episode 24)

Ok i’m about to contradict myself here, i said im not going over ep 19-21 because Volatile Emotions, and this scene is also very viscerally emotional and intense but oh my God the intimacy! the openness! i had to look away multiple times during this scene bc it really seems like a private moment we shouldn’t be privy to. i cannot in good conscience say that, had wkx not kind of stormed out at the very end, a kiss would be guaranteed. whether to soothe zzs after so much crying or whatever other reason.

Painting restoration (also episode 24)

wkx’s second love language is acts of service and this episode is all the evidence i need to make that statement. we do get a very cute heartfelt family hug in here and wow cute but im sorry i cannot let go of the fact that there should have been a kiss here. i really hate inserting photos in textposts but i have to bc i need everyone to understand how much zzs looks like he wants to devour wkx whole after he realizes what he’s doing

look at it. he’s down bad.

More drinking! yay! (Episode 25)

just soulmates drinking and talking in the hush of night after their kid has been put to bed. always a great way to start an episode. they’ve settled into 4 seasons manor at this point and it doesn’t look like they’re going anywhere, they just look so comfortable in these shots. if u dropped a quick peck on the cheek in there i wouldn’t blink twice.

Narrow escape from dying with (and for) each other, courtesy of ye baiyi (Episode 27)

at this point most secrets are out of the bag, they see each other fully and were about to be killed 4 seconds ago. we’ve got the perfect setup, zzs already grabbed wkx by the face, the only thing between them and a kiss was the looming threat of sepsis.

speaking of episode 27, The spice grinding scene (have i mentioned i fucking love episode 27)

just two soulmates grinding spices at night. this scene is so lighthearted and cute, after a whole episode of emotional turmoil and cementing how emotionally vulnerable they're willing to be/how dedicated they are to respecting each others’ boundaries while still supporting each other, a kiss would fit in for sure.

Literally any point in the new years celebration (Episode 28)

waaAAAAA family decorating, bickering, and dinners. if i was writing it in i would put it right after chengling runs off to watch the fireworks, leaving wenzhou alone with each other. but anything goes really, they’re in their element all episode.

Knight in shining (red) armor rescue (Episode 30)

first of all- fuck prince jin, second of all, THIS SCENE ARE YOU KIDDING ME. literally the damsel in distress getting rescued. complete with a horseback ride! and wkx kneeling in front of zzs and acknowledging him as his master (and therefore himself as part of the sect again!!!!). so many emotions. i dont even care if they’re in front of all their new disciples. a romantic kiss is necessary. it would be so easy for zzs to take the hand he’s patting wkx with and use it to drag him up into a kiss.

Hairpin scene (Episode 30)

i’m not even gonna say anything. these bitches engaged on screen. good for them

“Save it, you“ (Episode 32)

god. just god. zzs gently floating down to wkx, thinking he’s gonna throw his life away in anger Again and getting so very in his face. and saying That. with That smile. what else is an option. there is no other option. just kiss.

“Senior, please let me handle this“ (Episode 33)

i am willingly ignoring how fucking painful this scene is if you think about it for longer than 3 seconds. wkx isn’t dead! and the asshole forgot to tell his beloved to not do anything stupid while he was away! oopsie! zzs is a)very mad, b)very relieved, c)is about to experience a lifetime’s worth of regret in about 3 minutes. but first thing’s first, the love of his life isn’t dead. that deserves a kiss.

Drunk wkx 2: painful boogaloo (Episode 34)

these episodes are so painful to re-watch lol. wkx clinging to zzs’ waist and talking about how easy it is to be a good happy person when he’s around him. they probably couldn’t manage a proper kiss between the alcohol in wkx and the Pain in zzs, but a gentle forehead kiss would fit in well while zzs is softly petting wkx’s head (still resting on his chest. that’s an important detail).

Wedding aftermath (Episode 35)

i’m so distraught. anyways. you can’t tell me zzs was going to sulk away to die alone like some sort of tragic housecat while wkx is recuperating after the battle (and after losing the second most important person in his life) without a kiss. not without giving him the gentlest of forehead kisses.

Literally at any point in episode 36

i’m watching this tomorrow but i don’t need to. i don’t care. we know what happens. we know how it ends. if you’re about to give up your life to keep your soulmate alive you best preface it with the kiss of a lifetime.

[soradragon]

Sugary Comfort

Art’s not mine I found it and credit goes to the wonderful owners of this master piece of a drawing!

First Mikey x reader! I am proud and content with this one!

Thank you my sweet new beta reader for helping me edit this fic I love u and your amazing! <3

Warnings: sensory overstimulation in the beginning, lots of fluff, one pun

Mikey x f! reader

Check out my main masterlist if you liked what you read and wanna read more!

If you want to be tagged in the upcoming fics don’t be afraid to ask me! ^^

Anyway, enjoy^^

~~~~

You gazed at the reflection of a girl. She looked utterly exhausted; bags under her eyes like she hasn't slept in ages. 

Her lips were tilted up in a sneer; it was evident that she was repressing the urge to scream. But instead of giving in to the voice begging her to do just that, she drove her foot through the water's surface. Not only disfiguring the reflection of the girl, but also dirtying the dress you nitpickingly chose to wear this day. At the time you felt beautiful wearing it. Proud that you chose the right clothes to fit with the dress, completing the look you wanted.

Now, you just didn't care.

You didn't feel pretty nor proud.

You choked out a sob, rubbing the back of your hand against your face harshly.

You wanted all the white noise to stop, wanted the crying to stop, wanted the searing headache to stop. Why couldn't time freeze? Then, maybe the chaos in your head would finally end.

You had tried everything you knew that normally should have worked. Out of all of the times for those methods not to work, why did it precisely choose now when it actually matters?

You followed all the steps. You even rehearsed the steps as you did them.

Step one: When you feel an episode coming, go to a quiet place with dull, even colours. 

You had almost dropped your project when you felt everything becoming overwhelming, muttering an explanation to your teacher before almost booking out of the school building, to the most calming place you could recall; the park.

Step two: Once you have found a quiet place, go sit down and use your headphones to block out all of the sounds.

The headphones did not work.

Your never-ending trains of thoughts took the place of the noise and multiplied it by two. 

Images that flashed before your eyes every time you closed them were too bright. You were unable to figure out the meanings behind the words your mind screamed at you. 

All of it only worsened the already painful headache.

After only a moment you tore the headphones from your head.

Step three: Try even your breathing, and count to ten to ground yourself.

This was the only step that worked. You managed to calm yourself and stop your ragged breathing but it took effort. It took two attempts of counting to ten before it succeeded.

This whole fiasco petered you out mentally and physically. You just wanted this unnecessary sensory to decrease and quiet down to at least a tolerable level. But alas, the world did not want to cooperate this time.

You sighed, casting your gaze to the heavens. 

The sky was beautiful this evening - painted in orange and pink - and you would have taken the time to admire it, had it been in a different situation.

After hearing a familiar yet obnoxious 'ping' coming from within your bag, you cursed under your breath. You snatched your bag from behind you crudely, zipping it open with a huff. As you turned it on, you flinched at the bright light of your screen.

One unread message from 'Mom.'

She was worried sick no doubt. You felt guilty for worrying her, and wanted to reassure her that yes, you were safe, but felt like trash and were in the middle of an episode that wouldn't stop. No matter how hard you tried, all the obnoxious and illogical sensory your brain's been picking up did not stop. Though, on the other hand, you just wanted to ignore the message and skip the whole situation of explaining everything altogether and just turn off the screen and put notifications on mute. You sent a quick 'k' to whatever she had messaged you and moved on to the mute button.

Your finger hovered above it when a notification popped up, causing you to hesitate.

One new message from 'The great Mikester dude!'

Without thinking, you pressed on the notification, staring with big eyes at the message he had sent you: Guess who and where dudette. :P

"Mikey." You gasped out, manoeuvring your head in all kinds of directions, eyes skimming all over the park, trying to find the one in question. You felt the tingling and buzzing feeling of hope and glee pool in your body, replacing the sadness and anger.

All problems were forgotten or pushed to the back of your mind.

The white noise died down suddenly when you heard a low thud and the slight rustling of leaves. 

There was no other explanation; they were here...You were sure of it. 

Only they could stop the chaos when everything else failed, though you didn't know how, nor the logic in it. 

You guessed it had something to do with their ninja nature or something. (Even though Donnie told you multiple times that it might have been because of the aura they carried with, them, being half turtle and all that jazz had its side effects on some humans, like how a pet could soothe its owner simply by being near them. You still blamed it on them being ninjas.)

With your mind settled down, you could think clearly again. 

You briefly acknowledged the fact that you most certainly were a dishevelled mess. Puffy eyes from crying, clothes covered in mud, and hair all over the place, considering that you've pulled and tangled your hair in frustration. Despite all of this, you didn't care.

You were too busy thinking of a plan to lure them - you guessed it was all of them, though it could be only Mikey - out of their hiding place.

You accidentally placed your hand on your phone, making it vibrate, and your hand shot back as if it had burned you. A few seconds after, a song piped up.  A lot of curses could be heard from the tree where the music came from, the leaves rustled like no tomorrow. Mikey fell out of said tree not long after, hitting the ground with an 'oof' followed by a groan. You stared at Mikey for a couple of seconds before doubling over in laughter as the realisation hit you:

You had accidentally called Mikey!

Well, it sure helped you find him!

You counted that as a win on your part. And it seemed that Mikey was on his own, for normally one of the brothers, cough Raph cough would have jumped out from their hiding place and scolded Mikey.

He rolled into a sitting position, giggling with you.

"Yo, dudette! Fancy seeing you here. Don't mind me dropping in," he said, peering at you with an expecting smile, seeming to wait for a reaction. 

It took you a hot second or two for you to catch on, eventually groaning at the pun and face-palming yourself for your delayed comprehension. He did jazz hands and everything.

The great ninja Michelangelo just punned...

You wanted to kick yourself, you completely forgot that April had warned you about Mikey using puns. She had messaged you not too long ago about how it was a "Big" (with capital B) mistake of Casey to teach Mikey "The Art of puns." For Mikey had become obsessed with them. - Throughout the whole exchange, Casey had managed to steal April’s phone a few times and messaged you some words. Three guesses which one was Casey’s input on the matter. - 

You had no clue what they meant with "mistake" throughout that whole exchange. 

You appreciated a good pun.

This was not a good pun. 

You could just imagine the brothers’ reactions to Mikey's newfound fixation: Raph screaming desperately for Mikey to shut up. Donnie being hella annoyed with something pressed against his (ears?) to drown Mikey out. Leo would definitely try to ignore him, probably without success, because you knew...oh, you knew Mikey would take every chance he got to make a pun.

Your heart went out for them. Needing to go through such torture was horrid, yet it was a funny sight to be completely honest. Not that you would ever tell them, heavens no.

You were not going to poke three bears with a stick - in this case, mutant turtles. You were not ready to die three separate times.

"Dude, that was so bad,” you said, making a face as if you had just been forced to smell Raph's feet. You still regret going through with that bet.

"Dude!"

Mikey frowned, throwing his hands in the air. You knew he wasn't really offended, just a bit pouty.

"It's the truth, dude," you retorted absentmindedly, casting your gaze from left to the right before it rested on your bag. Smiling slightly, you snatched it, hauling it over your back before turning back to Mikey who sat contently against the tree. 

"But," you emphasised the word by pointing your index finger in the air, "you can get better,” your grin widened as you spoke.

 “And I, Y/N, know how it's really done."

Mikey's pout vanished and a wide, child-like grin overtook his face. You had his full attention, as he observed you expectantly from his cross-legged position. 

The long uncut grass rippled towards and caressed Mikey, the blades of green curling slightly forward and creating an image of what looked like nature sheltering Mikey from the harsh reality outside of this garden of paradise. 

The green-filled branches of the tree hovered above him, leaves gliding down every now and again, covering Mikey in small dapples of shadow.

Dusk's hew engulfed the image before you in a soft purple radiance. Mikey's skin practically glowed, making him look like a forest fairy.

It was a captivating sight. 

You could mistake it for a painted fairy tale that had come to life. Whoever the painter was had made sure that each tiny detail captured the magic and beauty of the image before you.

A magic-filled world coexisting in the harsh one you stood in... what you wouldn't give to cast all worries aside and join that world.

You were so lost in the moment that you almost forgot to continue.

Shaking yourself free from the enchanting sight, you carried on, albeit flustered, "a-and I could, um, teach you a thing or two. If...If you want me to, that is."

Mikey almost jumped right in your face before the words had completely left your mouth. There were practically stars in his eyes! He actually looked really adorable.

"Really!? You would!? Y/N, you are the best!!"

Mikey engulfed you into a hug, his body nearly covering your entire body from the world.

You gave a chuckle as he kept his arms circled around you, letting you sit in his lap. You didn't mind at all, feeling cosy in his arms.

"Of course I would Mikester. It would be my pleasure!"

You raised your hands to Mikey's cheeks, giving them a couple of pats before you continued.

"That way, you have a reason to end patrol earlier so we can spend more time together," and it would give the others a break from the barrage of bad puns, but you didn't voice that out loud. 

Mikey seemed to agree. He didn't waste any time to establish when and where this 'class-session', as he called it, would be taking place. He wanted it to become, without a shadow of a doubt, a weekly thing, like movie night at the turtles’ place with everyone.

Mentioning movie night brought up some nasty memories of last time -the movie night itself wasn’t bad, just one of your episodes got out of hand -  and Mikey changed the subject promptly after seeing you wince slightly. 

He told you about all kinds of new skateboard tricks he mastered and invented.

After a little while - when everything had been said about skateboarding - Mikey started to eagerly talk about random topics, bringing up stuff like how his training went this morning or what he encountered on patrol. Just little things to draw more time spending in this position. You kept in mind that this peaceful moment couldn't last forever, for both of you would have to separate sooner rather than later. 

You needed to go home to your no doubt worried sick parents, before they would start search parties. And Mikey...had to wait till the next time you two could hang out. (Which wasn't as often as both of you desired)

You listened to his voice silently, only humming a reply whenever Mikey asked for your opinion, snuggling deeper into his embrace as you lost track of time. Drowsiness tugged at your consciousness, beckoning you to close your eyes and let sleep take over. The way Mikey held you close to him made you feel loved and safe, with you resting your head against his chest to hear his heartbeat. He rubbed soothing circles on your left shoulder with one hand, making it impossible to resist the urge to let sleep take you away to dreamland. 

You vaguely heard Mikey's voice murmur in your ear, "Sweet dreams, sugar muffin..." You felt soft lips brush against your forehead before sleep took you over.

*(*)(*)*

Michelangelo stayed seated for a little while longer, looking at your sleeping form with loving eyes. If the world would have let him, he would have stayed like this forever. Alas, the moment was broken when your mobile pinged inside your bag, vibrating like crazy.

Mikey panicked. Jumping to his feet (surprisingly without stirring you) without thinking. He opened your bag in such haste he had almost dropped you trying to grab the vibrating phone before it would wake you.

He sighed in relief when the phone stopped its obnoxious buzzing after he managed to keep you from falling. He shifted you gently onto one arm to hold you delicately, yet tightly to his chest, as if he was protecting you from the world around you.

Once he made sure you were nestled comfortably in his hold,  he glanced towards the device lying in his palm. Mikey held it at an arm's length.

One question drifted inside his mind: Who in their right mind would call you this late in the evening?

It was a question where he could get an answer, but Mikey didn't want to pry into your private life without your permission.

But the curiosity gnawed at him like he would do with pizza.

He shook his head and chastised himself for goggling the device longingly. "No, bad Mikey...Be the better man, you can do this," he muttered, moving to put the phone in your bag until your phone buzzed again, displaying the number of notifications on the lit-up screen.

It made him halt in his tracks. 

Mikey knew you were having a bad day today. After all, he saw you crying by the pond in the centre of the park. It was a mere coincidence, patrolling around the park at the time. He had seen you crying and decided right then and there that he would cheer you up. But he had no idea you had that kind of bad day. 

There were seven unread messages and three missed calls from your mother. All of them showed how worried she was about you, asking where you were and if you had one of your sensory overstimulation episodes.

Without really thinking about it, he typed a reply to your mother: Batteries died, was with a friend. Coming home through the fire escape forgot keys.

It wasn’t a  grammatically correct message, he knew. It was the best he could do with one hand and one thick tumb.

Mikey glanced towards you with gentle eyes and a soft smile after sending the message and put your phone back in your bag.

He moved you gently, holding you with both arms again and cradling you against his chest.

You, in turn, stirred and snuggled deeper into Mikey's chest, making his heart soar.

"Time to get you home, sugar muffins..." he whispered softly, brushing a couple of stray hairs out of your face.

Mikey moved swiftly yet precisely, ensuring you did not wake or feel uncomfortable during roof-top-hopping. You needed all the rest you could get; the bags under your eyes made him even more certain of the fact.

Your home came into Mikey's field of vision far too soon. Opening the window and laying you softly onto your bed felt too fast for his taste.

Mikey took extra care to tuck you in. He even attached a little note to your bag for you to find when you would wake up. 

He really wanted to stay longer, but the sound of your parents coming up the stairs told him it was time to go. He opened the door of your room slightly so your parents would know you were home. Michelangelo climbed through the window before your parents could see him.

He watched your parents turn on the light from a rooftop across your window. Your dad gave you an extra blanket before the two of them turned off the light and left your room.

Mikey stayed there on the rooftop for a little while longer before leaving, looking over his shoulder one last time and then he sprinted over the rooftops towards home.

*(*)(*)*

You found the note the next day. You smiled brightly at the words hastily scribbled on the pape. You texted Mikey a reply before you went to look out your window. Your eyes draw towards the morning sky, which was painted in a soft orange hue.  

You repeated the words inside your head, making you excited for the next time you would see your turtle in orange...

Yoo, dudette! Can't wait for the pun-session upcoming Friday! 

I'll pick you up at ten alright? It's a date! ;) <3

~~~~

Thank you for reading, and keep soaring high!^^

Forever taglist

@theincaprincess​ 

[writingsorrantings]

Friends Don’t Look at Friends That Way Pt2 (jj x reader)

Word Count: Around 1,300 (sorry!lol)

Warnings: Alcohol mentions, angst

Music Rec: One Way St. - Jhene Aiko (just a good song and is mentioned in the chapter :)

Part One

 Recap: “And with that JJ laid back again and you found yourself in his arms. It wasn’t right, but you could get used to the way it felt even though you wanted more.”

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It had been about a week since that night, but your head was still as clouded. JJ hadn’t called you once which was definitely not your style and it was beginning to worry you. Is he ok? Or maybe I was too forward?

Maybe he just doesn’t want to be around you anymore.

 You shook your head as a half-assed attempt to put a stop to the self-deprecating thoughts and instead focused on the music playing through your headphones as you came home from work, but that proved to be less than helpful. “Going the wrong way down a one way street.” Jhene couldn’t have said it better and frankly you felt like a semi carrying a shit ton of rejection and hurt was barreling towards you, no evidence of it slowing down and ready for a head on collision. Bracing before a crash, emotional or otherwise, had never been your specialty. You already felt like shit and you couldn’t imagine what would happen if he actually talked to you about it. You had never been one for confrontation, but he had left you on read for a week now and you were going nuts trying to figure out what you did. 

Your feet hit the pavement in a slow rhythm, but as you began to think about what he was doing (or not doing) your pace began to pick up. At this point you were angry, how could he be so childish?! You were just trying to talk to him and he didn’t even bother looking at the last message! That really hurt your feelings and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Fuck him then. Your shoes hit your colorful doormat as you entered your house prepared to look the hottest you had ever looked for the kegger tonight. Walking into the kitchen you quickly grabbed the bottle of vodka from your parents cabinet knowing that they wouldn’t miss it and marched up your stairs. One thing was for sure, you didn’t need JJ to have fun. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. 

Unfortunately JJ’s thoughts were just as scattered. It was only 2 in the afternoon and he had already begun pregaming for the celebration tonight, but then again it might have just been a happy coincidence. He stared at the texts you had sent him and all he could do is run a hand over his face only pausing to take a gulp of the beer in his hand. 

“wanna surf tom?” --read 8:02am

“????” --read 8:23pm

“you good?” --read 7:48am 

“just talk to me” --read 10:47am

“what did i do” -- delivered fri 4:30 

        read sun 10:23

Fuck. He didn’t want to hurt her so he kept his distance, yet he still managed to make her feel bad. Once again this proved to himself that he was just a walking disaster. He knew by Saturday night that if he didn’t back away now it would just get so much worse. John B. came home the morning after to JJ huddled in the blue sheets of his spare room, eyes rimmed with red and for once it wasn’t from smoking. After hauling him out of bed and forcing him to take a shower, John B. questioned him over breakfast that JJ had tried to refuse multiple times. A text from you lit up his screen, and his face immediately dropped. He was a fucking wreck and anyone who saw him could figure it out. He loved you.  There was no point in denying it now, especially to John B. A boy who spent years trying to convince his best friend that he was a good person who deserved a healthy, happy love. Needless to say, he still wasn’t successful despite his efforts.

“She makes you so happy dude, I mean we can all see it. You are so damn happy. She makes you do things that you would never think of doing and you love it….She...She makes you think before you act because you know that it would destroy her if anything happened to you. For once you actually give a shit about your future and that’s because of her!”

By this point John B. was almost yelling as he had no clue how else to get it through his head that you loved each other. 

Calming down he said, “ I mean really...is this what you want? Because you deserve better than this….She deserves better than this.”

Not a single muscle in his face moved when he stood up from the chair, the screech from the legs rubbing on the ground echoing as the sentence hung in the air. A part of JJ knew John B. was right, but ultimately he would never risk your happiness to make room for his own. 

“Thanks for the breakfast.”

Feet padding against the wooden floor, JJ made his exit right into the room he came from, no regard for what his best friend had said. With a huff John B. decided that this was a battle he’d fight another day and left to go see Sarah. When the door slammed shut, tears fell from JJ’s eyes. It’s ok if he thought he was stupid, at the end of the day JJ was doing what he thought would help you.

Night was approaching and you were ready as ever for tonight’s festivities to begin. Kie had come over and you were screaming the words to various songs as you guys got ready for the night. It didn’t take you long as you both were never huge fans of full glam looks, but could appreciate it on other people. As you checked yourself out in the mirror you couldn’t help but smile. You were all for body positivity, but you were never a super skinny girl and sometimes that made you insecure. But today. Today you loved the way your curves filled out your too short cut offs. Between that, Kie’s halter top, and the layered necklace that fell perfectly in the middle of the deep v neckline, you were irresistible. Kie grabbed your hand and pulled you downstairs as you headed out for the party.

The dull thumps from the speakers began to get louder as you guys approached in the car and before you knew it you were parked and ready to get out, fingers wrapped around the silver handle. This was a mistake. Although it was just a flash of trepidation, Kiara had seen it and asked, “(y/n), you ok?” and frankly you had no clue. Were you ok? I mean no you weren’t and you definitely wouldn’t be tonight, but did you need to worry her. The silence was answer enough for her and she studied your face. 

“We don’t have to go y’know. I’m ok with not going and I can just tell the guys we hungout all night?” 

“No, no it’s ok. It’s just...JJ hasn’t been talking to me lately and I don’t know why, but to be honest I think I do, but I don’t want to think that way.”

Kie stared at you waiting for you to continue with a slight nod to show she was listening. After a moment of hesitation, you turned your body so that your open back was no longer against the leather seat and your knees were pointed at her despite how small the car was. Even though you were facing her, your eyes refused to meet hers as you focused on chipping away at your nail polish while you spoke.

“I..I just...we had a moment last saturday. I mean I thought we did and I think I like him and...and I think he knows and is just avoiding me until he finds the right way to reject me. He just kept leaving me on read and I figured the best revenge was to look great tonight. But honestly, I guess I just wanted to make him realize that I can be more than a friend.”

Kie had had enough. JJ was acting like a dumbass and she wasn’t going to let him hurt her friend. You are the sweetest person that she knows and you deserved a guy who would give you the same effort that you always gave others. She began to smile as she started planning the rest of your night in her head and she was going to make sure you had the time of your life. She reached into the backseat and handed you the bottle you had snagged earlier and after spinning the top off you took your first of many shots that night. 

“You deserve to have a good night. Without JJ. Let’s fucking do this.”

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Part 3

Sorry to leave you guys on another cliffhanger I hate it when writers do it lol! But honestly thank you guys so much for all of the messages that you have sent me and all of the likes that you have left on part one. It was my first ever fanfic so it felt super good to see that you guys enjoyed it. I am going to start working on part 3 right after I post this, but idk if I will stop the story with that part. I’m new to this so let me know if you want to be on a taglist of if you have any requests for any character from any show. I’m not picky! Anyways love you all and I hope you’re staying safe.