#i told him so many times to NOT sneak up on me (he lit sneaks idk why he does) and he still does it im gonna lose my mind

[enden-k]

tragedy that occurred just now, in 3 acts

[pennyellee]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐗 - 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐚

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, mentions of antidepressants, anxiety, panic attacks, nightmares, mentions of night terrors, mentions of self harm, manipulative behaviour, mentions of labotomy, medical cases, intimate life, diseases, “failed” pregnancy, alcohol, medication, etc.

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 8,7K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

A/N: so yes, it took me a while to actually finish this chapter and as I mentioned - it’s shorter than what I usually want to write for lacrimosa. Truth to be told, this is what I can do for now till I get something better to write on. I don’t know when the next chapter will be written and up, so for now thank you for your patience, i actually didnt think i would write a chapter whilst im in US coz the only device on my person is my phone, but im very happy I managed to write something. This chapter is more of a prequel go what’s going to happen next. Many of you actually guessed/predicted some things right and for some you have to wait till the very end, we’re near it.

Massive thank you goes to @chaoticpuff17 who managed to beta read it despite both our situations being crazy rn, ily queen 🥹🫧🩵

Love you all, p.

m.list previous next

lacuna (n.) a blank space, missing part

The night was relentless, a symphony of thunderclaps and the steady drum of rain against the cobblestones. The celebrations of the famous Kkangpae toned down, and after some months, several trips to the barren debris land of where Yakuza reigned, they returned safely to the sanctuary.

Back where she cannot hide from him in the stables, kitchen or sunroom, switching from one room to another just to not be in his presence for longer than she wanted. Yet, he managed to steal her away when his frustration boiled up enough. Y/N could’ve hinted how much she doesn’t want him to sleep next to her all she wants, he kept sneaking in and out every time. Yoongi was patient, determined even. Determined to make things right this time by giving her space. But the wrenching feeling of not having her close enough consumed him, night, day and moon.

Yoongi kept his promise, giving Y/N the space she needed while gradually attempting to rebuild the trust that had been shattered. He was careful with his words, patient in his actions, and ever attentive to her unspoken needs. The pair worked on their friendship these past weeks, he wanted himself to be her person. The person that she would love and lean on.

But the young Buin might seem calm now, from outside, but her wit remained under the surface. She buried herself deep within her psyche and doctor Kim could do very little to “repair” her. Not even renown specialists who came to give the young girl a helping hand did not succeed.

Yoongi watched her from a distance yet at the same time he was so close, his heart aching with the knowledge that he was partly to blame for her withdrawal. He had been too harsh, too controlling. Now, he was paying the price. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to whisper apologies and promises into her ear. But every time he approached, he could see the fear and distrust in her eyes. It was a barrier he didn't know how to break.

Wang Xiaoqing’s wisdom was passed onto her, they whispered. But truth to be told, the elder woman, may she rest in peace, underestimated the new blood. The following legacy. Now, her kin suffers.

Yoongi wishes he never used the letter as leverage against her nor let her read it. At night he wonders whether that would change things. Whether by now she would be in love with him just as much he’s in love with her.

He sat down with the rest of his family at the dinner table after she broke down with yet another panic attack. The dining room was oppressively silent, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. It wasn’t even the end of January, and the snow was still prevailing outside. Yoongi sat at the head of the table, his expression a mask of stoic resolve, though his heart was anything but calm.

Y/N was conspicuously absent, her chair at the table glaringly empty. Yoongi's mind replayed the scene from earlier, the look of sheer panic in her eyes as she had crumbled under the weight of her emotions. He had wanted to reach out to her, to offer comfort, but he knew his presence would only worsen her distress.

Clearing his throat, Yoongi broke the silence, his voice strained but firm.

“I know you care about me. About this family—”

“I’ve made mistakes—mistakes that have pushed her to the edge.”

“No, Yoongi—” the right hand man straightened himself in his seat interrupting his leader.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with a mixture of frustration and sorrow as he turned to face his right-hand man, Namjoon. The room held its breath, tension crackling in the air.

“Namjoon, please,” Yoongi said, his voice weary. “My wife slit her throat, stop justifying my actions.”

Namjoon hesitated but nodded, leaning back in his chair, his expression still troubled. Yoongi took a deep breath, steeling himself to continue.

"I pushed her too far, and now she's breaking—”

“Now, I don’t know what your intentions are with my wife, but I forbid you from whatever you are putting into her head.”

Namjoon's eyes widened in shock at Yoongi's words, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right response. The weight of Yoongi's accusation hung heavy in the air, and the room seemed to grow even quieter, the tension palpable.

Yoongi's jaw clenched, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He had always trusted Namjoon implicitly, had relied on him as his closest confidant and advisor. But now, in the wake of Y/N's pain and suffering, he couldn't help but wonder if that trust had been misplaced.

“All of you.”

“Yoongi, I swear—” Namjoon began, his voice tinged with desperation. But Yoongi held up a hand, cutting him off.

“I don't want to hear it, Namjoon,” he said, his tone final.

“Whatever it is, I’m giving her the space to tell me herself.” Namjoon's gaze faltered under Yoongi's intense stare.

“I would never intentionally do anything to harm Y/N or come between you two. She's like family to me, too.” Yoongi's jaw clenched tighter, but he nodded curtly, acknowledging Namjoon's words.

“Seokjin.” He addressed the oldest man in the room.

“Yes, Yoongi?” Seokjin replied, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

“She’s still taking those pills you gave her,” Seokjin's brow furrowed in concern at Yoongi's words. They were only a temporary solution before Seokjin decided that day to put her on barbiturates. She needs his help and if he cannot help her the way he knows it will be most effective, he’ll at least prescribe whatever will tone down her night terrors so she can sleep at nights.

"I'll talk to her," he said firmly. “But you know what would certainly help her—” Yoongi’s hand flew high to hit the table, making everybody twitch at the loud noise.

“No, Seokjin. No.” The family members exchanged solemn nods. Yoongi took a moment to compose himself, his chest heaving with pent-up frustration.

"She needs more support than we can provide on our own. We have to consider what's best for her.” Yoongi struggled to find the words to express his feelings. "I know, Seokjin," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But that is going way too far.”

Namjoon leaned forward, his expression earnest. The youngest at the end of the table cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him, waiting for his input. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the tension in the room, before speaking up.

“Maybe you just need to stop shielding her in. Let her live a life—” Jungkook's suggestion hung in the air, a fresh perspective on the situation that caused the family members to exchange thoughtful glances.

Yoongi's brow furrowed as he considered Jungkook's words, the idea of allowing Y/N more freedom conflicting with his instinct to protect her.

“But what if she runs for the hills, Kook.” Park Jimin’s voice echoed from across the room, his hands busy pouring the strong liquor to seven crystal glasses. Yoongi's gaze flickered towards Jimin, setting the first glass in front of him.

"I can't bear the thought of her running away from me again," Yoongi admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. Hoseok nodded in agreement, his expression sombre.

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully, understanding Yoongi's apprehension. "I get where you're coming from, hyung,—” Jimin set down the last glass of liquor, his expression sympathetic.

“I’d say, nonetheless, she needs something to occupy her mind other than those thoughts.” Said Jimin sitting down on his chair while nursing his own glass of the booze.

"Maybe if we can find something that brings her joy, something to distract her—” Seokjin nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful.

“She studied, tasted her own freedom and now all she’s left with is being your wife.” Yoongi's heart clenched at Jimin's words, a pang of guilt washing over him. But still a large part of him was thinking why it is not enough.

“She can work with me once she’s better.” The doctor interjected. Yoongi's gaze shifted towards Seokjin, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the suggestion.

"You think she'd be up for it?" Yoongi asked, his voice tentative yet hopeful.

“Ah hyung you’re so in the dark—” Jungkook remarked. Jungkook sighed, his gaze meeting Yoongi's with empathy.

“She needs to feel like she has a say in her own life, like she's not just living for someone else.” Where this newfound wisdom arose, Yoongi did not know. But he was glad for the support of his family men.

Hoseok placed a reassuring hand on Yoongi's shoulder, his expression filled with empathy.

“She knows so much about herbs, remedies, I think she’ll be happy to help Seokjin.” Yoongi's heart swelled with gratitude for Hoseok's insight. He hadn't fully realised the extent of Y/N's knowledge and interests outside of their marriage and that needed to change.

“Don’t tell her just yet.” The right hand man remarked.

“Yes, I want to give her more time to recover before we come back to the sanctuary.” The other family members murmured their agreement, a sense of solidarity and understanding settling over them. After all, at the end of the day it is a happy wife, happy life.

But months later, Y/N understood that if there’s even a slight possibility that the scarred leader will grow for better, it would be a painfully long process. She realised so once he returned with his knuckles all bruised and bloodied one night. She tended to them, and he was basking under her touch. Despite everything, she couldn’t ignore the humanity in his pain.

Her eyes rolled and a loud sigh followed when she understood what was the cause of his lapse of senses. He had let his frustration and anger take over him, but rather than put it out on everyone else like he was known for, he silently left his office to vent his anger elsewhere. She guided him to sit down after she asked the maid to bring her everything she needed to clean his wounds.

Yoongi watched her, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and excitement under her delicate touch. The feel of her hands, so careful and tender, was both a comfort and a torment. The imagery masking all the darkness that loomed over them, they would fool even the Lord himself that this couple is one of love.

They sat in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of bandages and the distant rumble of thunder outside. Yoongi closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes to him. She avoided him less and less. So why did he have to let his steam off so suddenly?

“You know—” she began, focusing on his other hand now.

“You’re not really setting a good example of “communication is the key ”, now do you?”

Yoongi's eyes flickered open at her words, a hint of guilt flashing across his features before he quickly masked it with a neutral expression. He couldn't deny the truth in her statement, nor could he easily articulate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within him.

His mind drifted back to the hushed whispers, the concerned looks from Seokjin. Y/N was still fairly weak in terms of her health. Yet, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’ll come to tell him he’s going to be a father. Foolish of him, he knows. Selfish of him, he knows that too.

“I’m sorry, Dove.” He only muttered, forcing a kiss to her sphenoid bone, it was the only affection she rarely allowed him to show. Y/N knew that if she wanted to persuade him that she isn’t a flying risk, she’ll have to allow him to do more. She progressed slowly, with patience and space to breathe everything out.

The reason the young leader needed to vent his anger was obvious to Y/N. She heard the maid that so blatantly spied on everything she did, what she asked for, and whom she talks to on the telephone. Y/N was cautious, yet today, she had to ask for some feminine goods. She understood where his hope for a baby came from, he got himself to believe that once the monthly bleeding did not come the first, second nor the third month.

The young gal, however, knew that this has nothing to do with the possibility of her being pregnant. She still drank the remedy, just to be sure, and for her peace of mind as it bore too many demons already. The fourth month her body decided it’s time to function again and of course the devoted maid reported that right back to her husband whose hope for a child vanished.

“I was hoping we could go see Ma and little Bo Cheng before the wedding, I promised to teach him how to ride a ho—” she began her request carefully. Y/N had managed to negotiate Daiyu’s extended vacation in America with her young son and Kai, yet she couldn’t shake the strong feeling that Yoongi had only allowed such a thing to happen because he felt indebted to her at the moment. Her state was far more delicate than he thought and he desperately wanted to make her happy. The one thing she wanted the most, he couldn’t grant. Freedom.

“Would that make you happy?” Yoongi interrupted. He sighed, his eyes drifting to the window where dark clouds gathered on the horizon.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small, hesitant smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. It was a fragile thing, easily shattered, but it was real. And in that moment, Yoongi vowed to himself that he would protect that smile, nurture it, and help it grow.

“Yes, it would. Maybe we could also pay a visit to Daiyu—” Y/N sucked her lips in and shyly smiled again. Yoongi nodded slowly. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrests. The weight of their precarious situation pressed down on him, the knowledge that every decision could have far-reaching consequences hanging over them like a dark cloud.

“I’m not sure about that, sweetling,” he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Her heart clenched, did he understand her intentions?

“You said you’ll give me the world, Yoongi. Why not this?” Y/N’s smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features.

Yoongi’s gaze softened further, a mixture of regret and longing in his eyes. He reached out, taking her hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“I will consider this trip, but we have to be cautious now. War is looming on the horizon.” He explained, his tone serious.

“What do you mean war? You’ve just won one,” she challenged, her voice laced with disbelief.

“The world is a volatile place, Dove. Our battle was nothing in comparison to what is to come. The world will fight—” Yoongi’s expression darkened, the weight of their past victories suddenly overshadowed by the looming threat of conflict. Y/N’s heart sank at the mention of war, a cold knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

“Until we’re certain there’s no threat, I want us to remain in Korea, my love.” he declared, his final words.

Y/N’s heart sank at his words, but she forced herself to nod, understanding the gravity of their situation. The war threatened to consume them all, and they had to tread carefully if they were to survive. Y/N nodded slowly to his words.

“She wrote to you this morning, didn’t she?” Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she’s running out of time. If they were caught up in the chaos, she feared she may never leave this place. And with Yoongi’s resolve to remain in Korea, their window of opportunity grew smaller with each passing moment. It was worth the shot, he wouldn’t let her slip that easily if there’s an actual threat that the world’s will battle.

“She met someone,” Y/N added softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty of how Yoongi will react. He, however, already knew. There was nothing that would go past him or so he thought.

"She met someone?" he repeated, his voice tinged with false scepticism. Y/N's heart ached at the doubt in Yoongi's voice, but she held firm in her conviction.

“She’s a widow with a child, who—”

“Happy widow with a child—” she inserted herself into his remark. "She deserves it, Yoongi. After everything she's been through, she deserves a chance at love and happiness.”

“Daiyu is no longer tied to the syndicate. You promised not to meddle with her affairs unless she needs help.” She reminded him less gently, her voice tinged with a hint of caution.

“I intend to keep that promise.” Lie. He already knew the man who so openly started to court her. A sense of relief washed over Y/N as she watched Yoongi's resistance soften, even if it was pretended.

“The rain won’t stop pouring—” Y/N’s voice trailed off, a sombre note creeping into her tone as she glanced out the window at the stormy sky.

“How do you feel today?” Yoongi observed Y/N for a moment, his expression softening as he took in her weary demeanour.

“Better than yesterday.” She replied, her voice carrying a hint of resilience. Yoongi nodded, a sense of relief washing over him at her response. Despite the challenges they faced, he was grateful for every moment of peace they could find amidst the storm.

He noticed the subtle signs of improvement in her appearance. Her cheeks, once sunken and lifeless, now held a hint of colour, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed less pronounced. Her eyes sparkled differently, not with tears as of late. Whatever Seokjin is doing to help her, it is working.

“Have you slept well?” he inquired gently, his voice filled with genuine concern. From Monday to Friday, storms reigned over the hidden valley. Yoongi reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. Her dark hair grew enough to reach past her shoulders since the unfortunate event back in October.

“It wasn't the best, but it was better than before.” Yoongi nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of admiration and concern. He knew that even the smallest victories, like a few hours of sleep, were worth celebrating in their tumultuous world. After all the night terrors she endured for months.

“How’s working with Seokjin?” He knew how demanding their roles could be, especially in the midst of ongoing turmoil. Yoongi expected her to sigh just as softly as she always does, her expression to reflect the weight of responsibility, but none of that happened. Y/N smiled at him brightly instead.

Y/N's smile was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, momentarily dispelling the shadows that lingered around them.

“Work has been great. I've been able to help so many people—” she replied, her voice infused with a sense of optimism that Yoongi hadn't heard in a while. As she spoke, Y/N’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, a stark contrast to the weariness that had plagued her in recent months.

“Did you know that punk, Jungkook, pretends to be sick every other day just to swing by?” Y/N’s voice was filled with amusement as she recounted the antics of the youngest of the seven. Though older than her, she did not feel any age difference between them two.

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle at the mention of Jungkook's antics.

"That sounds like him," he remarked, a fond smile playing at his lips. She continued, her words flowing freely as she recounted her experiences while working with Seokjin at the clinic.

“Seokjin has been a wonderful mentor,” she continued, her eyes shining with gratitude. “He’s taught me so much more than we actually studied at school—” Yoongi nodded in agreement, a sense of pride swelling within him as he listened to Y/N's tales of their work at the clinic.

“I remember this one young man who had sustained severe burns on his arms. The sight of his injuries was heart-breaking, but I could see the determination in his eyes to overcome the pain.” Y/N’s voice softened with emotion as she recalled the moment.

"We worked tirelessly to stabilise him, and when he finally regained consciousness, the look of gratitude in his eyes made all the long hours and hard work worth it. It was a reminder of why I wanted to be a nurse in the first place—to make a difference in people’s lives, no matter how small.”

Yoongi listened intently, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for not allowing her to pursue her passion for nursing earlier.

He may not be able to undo the past, but he could certainly make sure that she had all the support she needed to thrive in the future. The youngest was right. She needed this, she needed to regain her purpose in her life. To be someone for herself.

He realised how much he had underestimated her need for work, how vital it was for her to have a sense of purpose and fulfilment. There was still hope and goodness.

Yoongi listened to all the stories she had to say as for the first time since forever, there were no tears, no screams, no tension in the air. Just the calm, steady rhythm of their shared breaths.

“You know,” Yoongi began, his voice soft, "I'm proud of you. Proud of everything you've accomplished and the progress you’re making. I should have let you do this sooner.”

“Can’t change the past now can we?” He nodded to her remark solemnly, squeezing her hand.

“Tell me more,—” he urged, eager to hear more about her work, her passion. He wanted to be part of her world just like she is part of his, to support her in every way possible.

Y/N smiled, her face glowing with happiness. “Well, there’s this little girl named Jang-mi. She’s been coming in for treatment regularly, and despite everything, she's always so cheerful—”

Y/N pulled her coat tighter around her, feeling the icy water seep through the fabric. Her breath came in shallow gasps, mixing with the cold air to form small clouds that dissipated as quickly as they appeared. She huddled beneath the overhang of a small alley, her body shivering uncontrollably. The once comforting weight of her coat now felt like a burden, soaked and heavy.

Her mind raced, a chaotic swirl of fear and desperation. The past few days had been a whirlwind of terror and confusion. She had trusted the wrong people, made alliances that crumbled under the weight of deceit. Every step she took seemed to lead her deeper into a labyrinth of danger and uncertainty. She couldn’t afford another mistake; the stakes were too high. The sound of her own heartbeat was loud in her ears, a constant reminder of the life-or-death game she was playing.

A sudden flash of lightning split the sky, casting stark shadows and illuminating the alley in a harsh, white light. For a brief moment, everything was clear and sharp, every detail etched into her memory. That’s when she saw him.

At the mouth of the alley is where he stood , his figure backlit by the brilliant light. He was drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead, but he seemed unfazed by the torrential rain. His presence was as menacing as ever, a dark silhouette against the night. His eyes, however, were what held her captive. They were dark, deep pools of unreadable emotion, reflecting the storm’s fury.

Yoongi didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched her, his gaze intense and unwavering. It was a look she had seen before, one that sent chills down her spine. It was the look of a predator sizing up its prey. She knew then, with a sickening certainty, that no matter how far she ran, he would always be one step ahead.

Panic surged through her, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She pressed herself against the wall, the rough brick scraping her skin through the thin material of her coat. She needed to think, to find a way out, but her mind was a blur of fear and fatigue. The rain continued to pour, the cold seeping into her bones, making her limbs feel heavy and uncooperative.

Yoongi took a step forward, the movement slow and deliberate. His boots splashed in the puddles, the sound muffled by the storm. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, a wild, frantic rhythm. She felt like a trapped animal, cornered with no way out. The alley was a dead end, and Yoongi was blocking her only escape route.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the storm. “You can’t keep running.”

His words were a cold, hard truth that she didn’t want to accept. But she had no choice. Every attempt to escape had led her right back to him, like a cruel game of cat and mouse. She swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the rain. She had to keep fighting, had to find a way to break free from his grip.

“I won’t let you control me,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “I’ll find a way out.”

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or admiration for her defiance. “You’re stronger than I thought,” he said, taking another step closer. “But strength alone won’t save you.”

He was close now, close enough that she could see the droplets of rain clinging to his eyelashes, the way his clothes clung to his body. His presence was overwhelming, a dark force that seemed to consume all the light around him. She knew she had to act, had to do something before it was too late.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Y/N pushed off the wall and lunged towards him, hoping to catch him off guard. But Yoongi was ready. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with a grip like iron. She struggled, twisting and pulling, but he was too strong.

“Let me fucking go!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation.

Yoongi pulled her closer, his other hand coming up to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means protecting you from yourself.”

Tears mingled with the rain on her cheeks as she realised the futility of her struggle. Yoongi’s words were a chilling promise, one that she knew he would keep. She was trapped, caught in a web of his making, with no way out.

The storm raged on around them, but in that moment, all Y/N could feel was the cold, unyielding grip of the man she used to fear, and the inescapable reality of her situation.

Y/N woke with a start, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the remnants of the nightmare clung to her mind. Her body was drenched in cold sweat, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest. For a moment, she couldn’t discern reality from the dream, the vivid images of the rain-soaked alley and Yoongi’s menacing presence still haunting her.

It was a memory that was hidden in the back of her mind to resurface when she’s the most vulnerable. It had happened a few times already, her mind showing her each time she attempted to escape the scarred leader.

She took a deep breath and listened to the mix of crackling fireplace and raindrops outside. His eyes were on her petite physique, his hands holding a book he was reading while she took a well deserved afternoon nap. He put down his reading glasses and ran a hand through his hair, closing the book and turning her attention to her.

“Which one was it this time?”

She turned to see him sitting beside her, his eyes filled with worry. The contrast between the Yoongi in her nightmare and the one before her now was stark. Gone was the cold, calculating predator; in his place was a man who genuinely cared for her well-being. He did change a little. Or maybe he was like that before but his selfishness didn’t allow him to show her his bright side.

Her legs moved to his lap when she was asleep, and he gently rubbed circles into her ankles, his touch soothing for once.

“Will you keep me safe?”

Yoongi's expression softened further, his gaze unwavering as he looked into her eyes. He knows that there were moments that haunt her till now. Moments he let happen with his cockiness.

“Always,” he replied, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”

“I just... I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.

“Just rest, Dove,” Yoongi murmured, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “I’ll be right here.”

After a few silent minutes, Y/N broke the calm silence.

“Can we play the piano?”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Together, they moved to the old piano in the corner of the room. As they sat side by side, their fingers tentatively began to touch the keys. Each note was a delicate thread, weaving together a tapestry of their unspoken emotions. The music became their secret language, a way to say everything they couldn’t put into words.

Every time she did not feel like speaking herself, they played. Until she felt better. Yoongi played with a gentle intensity, his fingers dancing over the keys with practised ease.

He was a better player, so she thought. Afterall, he had had more life to practice.

The medication made her more open to him. Sooner or later she’ll have to get off of it before it will become her only source of happiness. There were days it made her sleep well, drink, eat, breathe and live like the person she used to be. And there were days she sat in front of her vanity mirror knowing this effect is only temporary.

She cannot afford to get off of them while she’s remaining by his side. Her being would not take it and the prospect of freedom would be scarce. It blunted negative emotions which worked in the scarred boy’s favour.

It was working, but it was a question of time when she’ll develop tolerance and they won’t work anymore. That’s why Seokjin is desperately trying to convince Yoongi that he’ll have a way to help her. Permanently.

Yoongi knows that it would be just another mistake he would have to write under his name.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he whispered again, his words a promise and a plea. And in the quiet aftermath of their duet, she almost believed him.

In that fleeting moment, she wasn’t running, and Yoongi wasn’t chasing. They were simply two souls, lost in the music, trying to find their way back to each other. One more than the other.

His hand moved to cover hers on the keys, their eyes meeting in the stillness that followed. The world outside ceased to exist, the rain and the fire a distant backdrop to the intensity of their shared gaze.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Yoongi leaned in, his breath mingling with hers. Her heart raced, not with fear, but with a different kind of anticipation.

Their faces were inches apart, the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. His eyes flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes, seeking permission, seeking assurance. Y/N’s breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of emotions.

“Unnie?!” Xiaoli's voice rang out, bright and oblivious. “We need to talk about—”

“Can you keep me safe from my own sister?” She scoffed playfully. His chuckle bounced on her lips as his lips still hovered just a breath away from hers, the paper door swung open with a sudden, sharp creak.

Taehyung stepped in behind her, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. "Oh. We’re... interrupting, aren’t we?”

Yoongi pulled back slightly, his expression darkening as he turned to face them. Y/N felt the moment slipping away, the fragile connection disrupted.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked, his voice strained with barely concealed irritation.

“You invited us to have dinner, Hyung.” Taehyung reminded him, his tone a mix of apology and amusement.

Xiaoli’s eyes darted between Yoongi and Y/N, realisation dawning on her face. “Oh... we’re really sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in, Kkangpae Min.”

She apologised, still not her but always to him and him only. Y/N forced herself to smile. The woman that her sister became is not the same one she grew up with.

“There was nothing to interrupt, don’t worry,” she waved it off and Yoongi sighed, the tension in his shoulders evident.

The fleeting moment of intimacy with Y/N hung heavily in his mind. Before, during and after the dinner. He was extravagantly close to feel her lips on his again, just for the moment to be swept away.

Dinner was a mix of awkward silences and forced conversation. Xiaoli and Taehyung tried to lighten the mood, but the air was thick with unspoken words.

Yoongi, for his part, seemed distant, his mind clearly elsewhere. Every so often, his gaze would meet hers across the table.

“Will you come next week?” Xiaoli asked, sipping her wine.

Y/N, momentarily distracted from her thoughts, looked up.

“Next week?”

Y/N glanced at Yoongi, who was already looking at her. She hesitated, unsure of committing to anything he did not allow earlier.

“Yes, Y/N promised Bo Cheng to teach him how to ride a horse, and I have some business to attend to.” Yoongi cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“I could teach him,” Said Xiaoli, a bit jealous that their brother wanted Y/N to teach him when she was right there in the hotel.

Once Xiaoli and Taehyung will be with each other for eternity, the family of three then, will take their leave back to China.

The Triad leader attended his own business trips while his wife and children stayed with the “allying” clan.

He doesn’t know. None of them knows what Y/N did to herself, apart from Xiaoli, who herself doesn’t know every detail. They spreaded white lies to cover this “lapse of senses”. A misstep. Y/N hides the fading scar carefully to avoid any explanation. She wished to not tell them, and the kkangpae did not object to her wishes anymore. Whatever she wants, she gets. Usually, most of the time if she’s reasonable and clever about it.

The past months painstakingly helped them to get better. Or so Yoongi thought. Her priority was never to be his good wife, her priority is him thinking she will be his good obedient loving wife and when he won’t expect her to seek freedom anymore — she’ll disappear.

“I don't know about that, honey. You remember that nasty fall you took last year?” Her husband-to-be said nonchalantly. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Fall?—“ she asked, doubting his words.

“What are you talking about?” Xiaoli herself was surprised at his words. She did not recall any falls. Y/N knew Xiaoli isn’t the best rider, but she was decent enough to hold any situation that would make her fall from the horse under control.

“I don’t remember that,—” she said, taking another long sip from her glass.

“You’d certainly remember falling from a horse. Why don’t I know about this, Yoongi?” Said Y/N turning herself to the quiet man.

“I was having a hard time keeping you here as you loved to go for a run back then. It must have slipped my mind—“

“My sister falling from a horse slipped your mind?”

“He did not know Y/N, until a lot later. Right, Hyung?” Taehyung smiled sweetly at her, defending his Kkangpae. As always. Y/N clicked her tongue and gifted Yoongi with a penetrating stare creating another layer of tension in the room.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He cleared his throat, attempting to gather his thoughts. The last thing he wants is to mess up their relationship again.

“You’re right, love. I should have told you once I got to know that,” Yoongi admitting guilt is a new trait he acquired these past months.

“How did she fall?” Y/N aimed her question at Taehyung as her sister clearly doesn't remember it.

“It wasn’t probably that bad if I don’t remember it, Unnie. Don’t worry about it anymore—“ the younger female answered before her fiance had the chance to do so.

Y/N sighed loudly but the hand under the table that was gripping her younger sister’s thigh was not seen by her eyes.

It was hard to keep focus, especially with Seokjin constantly needing her assistance at work. His stern demeanour and meticulous nature kept her on her toes, but she appreciated the distraction. She knew why she was at his beck and call. Yoongi demanded so. Under any circumstances she ought to be next to Seokjin.

The ambulance in the sanctuary was significantly smaller than the big sanitorium in the town, but there was still some work to do here too.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and studying her intently.

“The usual,” she murmured, filling today’s report. Seokjin watched her for a moment, then brought the courage to ask.

“Have you been intimate?” Y/N dropped the pen at once and with wide eyes. She stared at him. The question came out of nowhere nor was it called for.

“Wh-what do you mean intimate?”

“Exactly what I said,” he replied calmly, not breaking eye contact.

“Have you been intimate with Yoongi again?”

“I don’t see how this is your business, Seokjin.” She felt her face flush with heat, a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“I’m not trying to pry. I’m your friend, but I’m also your doctor, sweetling—,” he said softly.

“Your health and well-being are my concern,” Seokjin explained. “And you know that if something’s affecting you emotionally or physically, it could impact your health.”

Bullcrap, he is in fact prying.

She was silent for a minute, trying to comprehend how he is taking care of her being this late. If she wouldn’t attempt to kill herself, these concerns wouldn’t be as great. But Y/N cannot afford to break havoc. She can’t go on rampage as she wants every single person here to think that she is moving towards being a good obedient wife of the Kkangpae. Even though she wants to scream to each and one of their faces about how much they failed her. How much they hurt her. Yet, patience is the key. Breathe, sleep, eat, endure.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then decided to change the topic.

“What about your wife?” Seokjin’s eyes flickered with surprise before he masked it with a neutral expression. Y/N barely knew the woman. Matter of fact she has seen her maybe three times since the wedding.

“Very much pregnant,” he said, his voice a mix of pride and weariness.

“Oh,” Y/N replied, taken aback. “I didn’t know. Congratulations, I guess.” Here comes another thing that Yoongi managed to keep from her.

“Thank you, my dear,” Seokjin said, a small smile touching his lips. “It’s been… an interesting journey, to say the least.”

“I can imagine,—” Y/N said, sensing there was more beneath the surface.

“Can you imagine yourself on that journey?” Seokjin interrupted, his gaze searching her face.

She pretended that the question took her by surprise, looking down at her hands to not give herself away.

“I don’t know,” she admitted softly. He is testing her. “It’s hard to think about that kind of future with everything that’s going on.”

Seokjin nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s understandable. But it’s something to consider. Maybe a baby would help you to shush your demons away.”

Y/N’s heart raced at the suggestion, and she forced herself to maintain her composure. “I… I don’t think a baby is the answer, Seokjin. There’s so much I need to sort out first.”

“Sometimes, having something to focus on, something to live for, can make all the difference,” Seokjin said gently.

She nodded, still feeling uneasy about the direction of the conversation. Opting not to give more than she would want to by not answering his remark and going back to finish the report.

“Just know that you have options. And that you don’t have to go through any of this alone.”

“Thanks,” she replied, offering a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Of course she won’t.

Y/N entered the dimly lit room where Yoongi was sitting, his face illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp. He looked up as she closed the door behind her, his expression softened once he looked up from the papers. The office in the sanctuary remained the same apart from the fact that now the young Kkangpae occupies it far more often than before.

He took his glasses off and pushed himself away from the desk creating a space for her to come and stand in front of him, leaning against the massive wooden desk. Her hands felt the warmth of the wood that had been heated by the lamp, reflecting the same heat that radiated between them.

“Did you ask Seokjin to put thoughts into my head?” she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ask him to, but I knew he would at some point try to give you some wisdom. What did he say?”

“That a baby would be the right treatment for me,” she replied, her voice tight with frustration.

Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly, then he closed them and exhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry, Dove—“

“Do you think that too?” she asked, searching his face. “That a baby would magically fix everything?”

Yoongi shook his head, stepping up from his chair and closer to her. “No, I don’t. A baby isn’t a solution to our problems—“ she didn’t believe one word that was coming out of this mouth. He wouldn’t break his knuckles this hard if he didn’t want the baby that Y/N took care of not happening anytime soon. Her system was full of herbal remedies. And now that she knows, the herbs flowing in her system are working, she can use that to her advantage.

“But that would make you happy right?” She countered, seeing through him. Softening her mimics to appeal to him.

“Well, yeah, I want a family with you someday—“

“Someday? The bandages on your knuckles says that you’re pretty eager to have it now—” she scoffed and murmured under her nose.

Yoongi’s eyes for once reflected something she couldn’t quite recognise. There was a mix of desperation and longing that flickered there. His hand reached out, trembling slightly, and cupped her cheek gently.

“Dove, I want us to be happy, truly happy. But I know bringing a child into this world won’t erase your pain or solve our problems. We need to fix ourselves first—” His thumb brushed her cheek tenderly.

“I’m sorry for being selfish, my love,” she felt a tear escape her eye, rolling down to where his thumb could catch it. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch because that’s what always softens his edges.

After months, she has learnt what strings to pull to make him move just the way she wants to. Yet, Y/N knows that he isn’t that stupid to believe she suddenly wants to live with him happily ever after.

“I can pour us some wine. We can play the piano after dinner, hm?” He could feel her vulnerability, her heart laid bare before him. Or so he thought as she wanted him to think that. His hand continued to caress her cheek softly, his touch gentle yet laden with unspoken longing she sensed each time he attempted to get closer to her.

She nodded, a small pretentious smile playing on her lips as she stepped closer to him. The tension between them lingered.

He pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. “We will be good. We just need time with each other.”

He sat first, patting the space beside him, inviting her to join. Her fingers brushed the keys, eliciting a soft, mournful note. A melody that echoed in her mind far too often. An anthem for hurting. Weeping symphony, tears of sorrow.

He became far too respectful towards her boundaries which essentially was ruining all of her plans. Her fingers pressed the keys with delicate touch even when she wanted to smash them rock hard.

“Why this song?” She let the question hang in the air for a moment, her fingers poised above the keys as if weighing his words.

“Do you know what they interpret it as?” She finally said, her voice soft, barely audible above the lingering notes. Her eyes, once masked with a facade of calm, now revealed a flicker of the anguish she carried.

“Tell me,” he flipped the page of the notes book for her to continue the song.

“It’s a tale of unspoken grief, of wounds too deep to heal and shadows that never leave.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine as she said that. Part of him understood what message she was trying to leave and part of him wished he’s wrong.

“I view it as love lost and dreams shattered. They say it’s a lament for those who wander through life carrying burdens no one else can see.”

He carefully listened to all her words, all the notes she played, all her feelings she shared. Her fingers moved over the keys, each note a whisper of sorrow.

“The scars I carry inside,—“ His hand reached out to touch hers, a gesture of comfort. Stopping her from playing more.

“Let me help you carry that weight—“

“You created it in the first place.”

His eyes widened, a mixture of guilt and realisation flooding his expression. She pulled her hand away.

“The scars I carry, the emptiness I feel, they all trace back to you.”

His mind raced to comprehend the depth of her pain, trying to understand her intentions. It’s not like he ever expected her to say it out loud.

“You created emptiness in me Yoongi—“

He felt his heart clench with guilt and regret. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. It was nothing new. She heard his apologies but she was yet to accept them

She turned back to the piano, her fingers resting on the keys but not playing. “Intentions don’t change the past,” she said softly. “The pain remains—“

“But the future can learn from mistakes.”

“I will. I’ll learn—“ He began before she interrupted him.

“You need to fill the space now.” His eyes lit up listening to her words. In his mind, this was it. The holy grail. In her mind, she was wrapping him around her finger before she would bounce away like a pebble on the pond.

“Heal me if you must.”

These were her last words before the distance between them shrank, the intensity of their emotions drawing them closer. He leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest that she could almost hear it but Y/N didn’t pull away.

Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, a delicate brush that spoke of apology, of yearning, and of promises yet to be fulfilled. Her heart cried and the song remained echoing in her mind.

As they pulled back slightly, their foreheads resting against each other, Yoongi felt a warmth spread through him, chasing away the cold shadows of regret. She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. His thoughts were swirling with one thing only — this was the real beginning of them. And it was the beginning.

The beginning of the end.

I N T E R L O G U E

The walls were lined with bookshelves, each shelf overflowing with dusty tomes and old papers. A large, ornate desk stood in the centre, its surface cluttered with stacks of documents.

Seokjin rarely sends her to this room as they also rarely stay in the hanok the sanctuary has for medical assistance to those who live here.

She approached slowly, her fingers brushing over the worn leather of a chair before settling on a stack of yellowed files that he asked to bring. It was then when her eyes caught the opened crimson red files that laid flat open on the desk. The ones that the doctor forgot to take with him the other time he had to run and tend to the lady of the house in the middle of the night. They stayed there, laid open, for several weeks. Touched by a thin layer of dust on top of it.

Kim Seokjin is renowned in his field of practice. Yet, this was going to be his great mistake. Inside, there were detailed medical records, notes written in a precise, almost mechanical hand. The words on the pages made her stomach churn—phrases like “prefrontal lobotomy,” “behavioural correction,” and “psychosurgical intervention” leapt out at her. She read on, horrified by the cold, clinical descriptions of procedures that seemed more like torture than treatment.

Her hand flew to her mouth to not let the wailing cry away.

Trembling, she pushed the file aside and reached for the next one. Not bearing what they’ve done to her sister. Y/N’s hands shook as she read through the files, each word a dagger to her heart. The clinical detachment with which the procedures were described made her feel sick. These were not just medical records—they were accounts of inhuman experiments carried out in the name of science, or more so — control.

The name on this file was all too familiar, it was Jin’s wife. He must have done it before the wedding as she seemed far too calm. Her heart pounded in her chest as she opened it, fearing what she might find. The contents were similar—detailed accounts of medical procedures, records of a lobotomy performed in a desperate attempt to “cure” her of what the notes described as “hysteria” and “unmanageable behaviour.”

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She stumbled back from the desk, her mind reeling from the revelations. The room seemed to close in around her, the shadows deepening as the weight of what she had discovered settled on her shoulders.

The name on the empty file under those made her anxious, hysteric even more as the tag had Min Y/N written on it.

She wiped her tears but they couldn't stop falling.

“Y/N?”

.

.

.

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Love you all!! ♥

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction. Nor in this case, I'm a medical professional.

let's be friends chummers 🫧♡ ︎

lots of love, p.

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts - @seonghwaexile - @catlove83

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Regret

Pairing: DarkTom Riddle x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Lying is a flaw that Tom doesn’t appreciate.

WARNINGS: Toxic relationship.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Dedicating this to @insectgf cause she's Tom's no.1 fan 😋

--

You nervously wring your hands as you peer around, eyes searching for movement near the dimly lit dungeon entrance.

The way to the Slytherin Common Room.

You've been waiting for just over half an hour, anxiety building up and infesting your thoughts while you hold vigil in hopes of finding Tom.

You should have never behaved like that. An act of pure stupidity and recklessness, that’s what it was.

Going to Hogsmeade in the company of a few girls of your dorm.

It was a rare occasion, something you never did before, and you had only relented after much begging and convincing from the girls. A dumb decision – one that led to a dreadful aftermath.

You should’ve known better. All of your joyful chatter and laughter at The Three Broomsticks immediately ceasing once you spotted the distinct lean figure of Tom seated in a distant table, surrounded by his friends, his brown-eyes fixed on you.

No surprise or shock in his gaze, only cold anger irradiating from his handsome features.

Something almost comprehensible given how you had explicitly told him you’d be spending all afternoon in your dorm, offering the poor excuse of a headache.  

And now here you are. Scared, shaking like a leaf, waiting for the chance to apologize and beg for forgiveness.  

You're so pathetic.

The time drags by, and you lose track, feeling as if you’ve been waiting for an eternity. But your efforts pay off when the door opens, revealing Tom.

Your heart leaps at the sight and fear clouds your mind when he offers you nothing but a quick murderous scowl that immediately turns into one of composed indifference before walking away past you, barely acknowledging your presence.

You gulp, hurrying after him as he walks with long strides through the empty corridors.

“Tom?”

“Tom…please.”

The boy ignores your numerous calls, but you keep your hasty pace even when it has you short breathed as Tom quickly charges through the stairways and halls.

“Tom, just listen to me.”

“And why should I listen to anything you spew out of that filthy mouth of yours?" his snarl scares you as he suddenly turns. "It appears that lies and deception is all I can expect from you.”

You wince, barely opening your lips before Tom walks away, choosing to stare blankly at a wall.

The confusion in your mind dissipates as a large door materializes on the door and only then you realize that you’ve reached the 7th floor.

The Room of Requirement.

You hesitate for a moment but proceed to follow Tom as he opens the door with a loud bang. Your existence remains ignored and you take a few small steps inside the room, unsure of how to bring Tom’s attention.

“Tom?”

For a moment, the possibility of Tom disregarding you again was present, and you fearfully awaited as the seconds went by without a proper reaction from Tom.

He inhaled sharply, fingers tightening before he relaxed.

But when he finally turned to face you, you almost wished he hadn’t.

The venom that darkened his face had your heart faltering, his eyes narrowing into thin slits that held nothing but anger and frustration. He almost looked like a snake.

You felt yourself turning smaller at the sight, suddenly unsure of how to speak.

“I-“

“Trust is a rather curious thing.” he says with his voice oddly serene, “An invisible yet very powerful bond, one that defines the nature of one’s relationship. That’s how I perceive it.”

“So, tell me. How many times?”

You look at him, confused.

“Tom-“

“How many times did you break my trust?” he repeats himself, brows contorting with annoyance, “How many times did you sneak behind my back to meet up with those filthy mudbloods?”

“I- Only this time.” you tearfully admit, lowering your gaze to the floor as Tom angrily hisses something in that strange snake language of his. “I swear, Tom. I-I’m so sorry.”

“Just this once? And why should I believe your unreliable words? You seem to be very determined in breaking my trust, so tell me why should I consider any of what you say to be true?”

Your lips shake when you bring yourself to look at Tom, tears burning in your eyes.

“But, …” a minuscule sob cuts you off, much to Tom’s irritation, “it is true. It was only this once, Tom, I swear on my life! I never lied to you before, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry, Tom, I really am!”

The intent with which he examines your pitiful face sets you on edge, heart plummeting against your ribs as you don’t dare to say a word.

“Prove it.”

“Prove wha-“

“Prove me that you won’t repeat this act of disloyalty. Assure me how sorry you are.” the way his eyes glint with a new cruel motivation has a shudder running down your body, aware that nothing good will come out of his proposition.

“Perform the Cruciatus Curse. On yourself.” his lips curl at your bewilderment, clearly enjoying taunting you.

This time, the tears overflow and slide down on your face pitifully and you look at Tom, silently begging him with your eyes.

But there’s no empathy in his face. Only a vile purpose.

“Go on, do it.” he takes a step forward, his tone borderline threatening despite how lightly he speaks. “You can either punish yourself or I’ll do it for you.”

“Because I assure you that in the end, you will suffer.”

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass 8 pt 3

masterpost

“I have a high degree of confidence that the tools are collected from this neighborhood. I have compiled a list of buildings where a workshop might conceivably operate.”

Cass nodded, engaging the locks on her batcycle. Damibat started pulling up the cover and handed it to her to snap into place. “Thank you,” she said, belated. Cass ran her tongue over the backside of her teeth. “Engineering power?”

“No conspicuous consumption,” Damibat reported. Professional for sure. “In light of the unknown power source for the tools themself, my leading theory is that the mechanic uses this unknown material for their workshop.”

She nodded. Made sense. Fit together, puzzle pieces that click together. The hunters both clicked through the belt mechanisms for grapples and then they soared together. Air blew into Black Bat’s face, buffeting her into an embrace. They cut through the air silently, Black Bat a second behind the case lead, Robin. 

His leads were:

Former car shop. Abandoned 4 months.

Basement floor of apartment building owned by mob affiliate.

Store front, shut down after cashier-owner murdered, gun crime.

In the right neighborhood, Black Bat started to feel a certainty. This was the right place. The mechanic was here. Something in her heart told her. It thudded, warm and reassuring, a reminder that she was breathing oxygen and pumping blood. Everything was well. Nothing was ghostly.

One by one, the Bats Black and Small crept in through windows and around blocks, looking for clues. 

Former car shop: Genuinely deserted! Black Bat felt proud of Gotham. It was nice that no one was creeping and crawling. Well. She was creeping and Robin was crawling, but that was different.

Basement floor: occupied, by many rats and still water. Biohazard. Black Bat put her breathing filter on and resigned herself to writing a report and request for cleanup. Very dangerous. Possible Legionnaire’s disease and others. Yuck.

Store front: Gotham fail. In use as a marijuana growing facility. Big sigh.  Do better, friends.

“Hardly a real crime,” Robin scoffed. He snapped his cape behind him and pulled out his grapple, angry with himself. Must have been wrong. Incompetent. I don’t like me when I fail. “Wasted time.”

Cass frowned, hesitating to follow. “No…” she said. The certainty hadn’t left her. Something in her hunting instinct knew. There was at least one trail to follow. She could sense it nearby.

Robin snapped to look at her. He didn’t say anything, but she knew what he was thinking: That’s unusual. Why is she uncertain? What does she perceive?

She cracked a faint smile behind her mouth mask. “Follow,” Cass requested. Robin, sweet and disciplined Robin, switched roles seamlessly. He followed her and she followed a sense that she hadn’t noticed before today.

They went over one block, and then up, up, up. A low income apartment building. Windows were dirty on the outside, smog and birdshit. The residents didn’t care to enjoy the view outside: there were curtains, UV blocking film, and taped up posters. She came to the ledge outside a 7th floor apartment and paused, frowning. 

“Here?” Robin breathed it so quietly that only their shared headsets picked it up. 

Cass nodded. 

The window was obscured. Unfortunate. Cass wiped at filth forlornly, but there was a poster taped on it. There was a small peeking spot to sneak a look through, about two centimeters wide. Black Bat spidered her way across the window to line her face up to look into the apartment.

It was dim, lit by a green glow from a big screen, probably. Video game? Black Bat spied the back of a sofa and a shadow cast by legs hanging over the edge. Someone was sleeping there. Hmm.

She turned her face expectantly to Robin. He was typing into the wrist computer. “Leased by a young woman,” he reported sotto voice. His eyebrows went up. “A civil engineering student at Gotham U. No other residents on the lease.” He tilted to show her a pale young woman with a narrow face and brown hair. Flat color: dyed? Suspicious or fashion choice?

Cass squinted back inside at the sleeping person. Must be Jacqueline. Criminal mechanic was female? Neat. Go girls, go! Go to jail in this case, but still. Neat.

“Shall we enter?” Robin was clearly ready to go.

Black Bat shook her head. “Daylight,” she said practically. Pass to the Signal. It’s only fair. Optimal time to sneak and creep is when school is in session; apartment empty. Nighttime is better for confrontation. “Docks now?”

Comms clicked. “I was waiting for you to ask,” Oracle said, smug, good timing, I have everything under control. “I have what might be Lex Luthor moving something across the bay tonight. Interested in taking a look at what he wants to sneak out of Gotham?”

Hell yeah.

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

A new task; Kidnap some frogs and a film to get an hour study session with the Annick Sabiani. Things are still unstable with Joseph. Maybe Callum could help. Your fear of hopping creatures makes a boy forget what went wrong.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warning: frogs (whoevers scared of them), swearing, boys being boys, angst

Also, yes, I do know harry potter, I was in both that and the marauders fandom (esp marauders)

===

===

Chapter six: Mischief Managed

===

"Sophia Loren is so beautiful." We look up at a movie poster, stating that only eighteen above can watch.

"What about Brigitte Bardot?"

"My mother says she's vulgar."

"Apparently, we can sneak in through the back door." Simone points towards the cinema.

"How do you know that?" I ask her, curious.

"A boy told me." It's definitely Jean Pierre.

"Is it Eugène?" Oh, Michèle.

"No, it wasn't." Simone shakes her head, and she's basically telling the truth.

We turn a corner. "You think I'll meet him someday?" Michèle asks Simone. I glance at the dark haired girl, worry spreading in me.

"Who?"

"Eugène."

"I don't know."

I stay quiet, a one-eyed boy in the back of my mind.

××《☆》××

Students enter through Voltaire High's gates and head inside the building.

I sit in the very front of my class, tapping a pencil against the table, anxiously waiting for my score.

"Pardine, 10." I sigh in relief, scanning the paper.

Frogs croak loudly throughout the room, making me shiver in fear. Small, slimy, hopping creatures were not my thing.

"And finally, Miss Sabiani, 12." Laubrac claps his hands, followed by the class. Annick has been glowing, much more social and vibrant. Good for her, comparing her old self to now.

I look back at my score, sighing. I could've done better. Could've gotten a twelve like Annick. I clench my jaw, disappointed.

Then, for the first time of many times today, a paper plane lands on my table. I furrow my brows, turning around to see who could've done it. None of them look suspicious, but Joseph looks nice. Too nice. And he's wearing green.

I turn back around, not knowing if I was flushed because of anger or because of him. Probably both. Annoyingly, both.

"Tomorrow, we'll all be dissecting frogs." My stomach reacts badly, making me gag silently.

Sure, frogs weren't my cup of tea, but dissecting them? I wouldn't even wish death on Joseph. Though, a part of me knows hatred isn't the reason for this.

I have noticed today that Joseph's been gloomy. He's off, and obviously not in a good way. His eyes that were once lit by its own sun dims down like when a storm approaches. And he's not smiling. I miss his smile.

No, I don't. I don't and won't miss anything. He hates me, and I guess I hate him, too. He decides to talk shit about me? The audacity of that man. I wish I could just grab his neck and strangle him and look at him and see his fucking pretty lips turn into a smile-

That god-awful smile. It ruined me. And I hate his smile. I hate it. I hate him.

××《☆》××

We're all gathered up in the courtyard, discussing our grades, when suddenly, boys started crowding near Annick. I overhear what they say.

"One hour with Annick!"

I furrow my eyebrows. One hour? That's what they're freaking out about? Well, it was Annick, and they were boys, so I guess I shouldn't be too confused.

"Hey, what's happening?" I walk up to Pichon, and he looks startled as he sees me.

"Annick is giving out an hour private lesson if someone steals the frogs and the film from English earlier for her." Pichon stutters out.

This morning, in English class, we watched a movie called "To Kill A Mockingbird", the film adaptation of the book. I guess Annick liked it so much that she wants someone to steal it for her.

In the corner of my eye, a tall blonde's wafting his arms in the air. I had a sudden question.

"Hey, do you have any idea why Applebaum stopped talking to me? I know it was from long ago, but I sometimes wonder what happened." Pichon pales, and my brows pinch together.

"You know how Applebaum's glasses went missing?"

I nod, remembering the day at the gym.

"Well, that was Descamps. After that, he came up to us and threatened Applebaum's eye if he went to talk to you again. Applebaum whined for hours to us after that. He said he lost his chance at the only girl who's ever given him one."

I chuckle absentmindedly, shocked at the new information. Then, I turn angry.

"Descamps, did that? Why? Why would he want Applebaum away from me?" Pichon scans my face, trying to see if I'm serious or not.

"You really don't know?" I shrug, suddenly embarrassed. Pichon scoffs. "He's in love with you, that's why. Even when he looked like he hated you, from how I saw it, he was so in love it turned him into a mad man. I always caught him looking at you or being near you, even if it was a hundred feet away. Wherever you were, he was, too." It's my turn to scoff.

"He doesn't love me. He hates me. I caught him in the halls, talking about me to his friends and saying I was too clingy." My heart shatters in my chest as I recall that moment.

"Wait. How could he say you were clingy?"

"We've hung out the past few days. He's stayed the night the day before I heard him call me that."

"What? You let him stay the night?"

"Yes? What's wrong with that? We're friends. Or atleast we were."

"Oh my god, no offence, but how could you be so daft? You love him, too!" Pichon says a little too loudly, making the courtyard glance at us before returning to their own conversations.

"I don't! Now keep your voice down, or I'll rip them off." I whisper-shout at him.

"You even talk like him." I roll my eyes at his conclusion.

"Anyways, don't be delusional. He doesn't love me, actually, quite the opposite, and I don't love him. That's that." There's a lace of disappointment in my voice, but I cover it up with a stiff face.

Pichon raises both his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say." He walks away, a smile dancing on his lips. I scoff.

He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about.

××《☆》××

I lean against the wall facing Michèle as we wait for Simone in the toilet.

"So?" Michèle calls out to the door.

"Yes, it's my period." The door opens, and Simone walks out. She closes the door.

"Is there a stain on your skirt?" Simone checks.

"No. But my underwear's ruined. The rest is fine. I put toilet paper" I notice how messy she looked. I comb her hair out with my fingers. She grabs her things from Michèle.

"You should go to the nurse, Simone." I tell her, worried.

"Yeah, my aunt will have pads." Michèle interjects.

"No, I'll be fine." I puff out my cheeks at her stubbornness, but dismiss it.

We start to walk, but after only a few steps, Simone clutches on her stomach.

"You definitely need to go to the nurse." She shakes her head.

"You poor thing." Michèle says as we continue to walk.

Once we make it out the door to the courtyard, Pichon pops out of nowhere. I squint at him, still pressed about earliers conversation. He just smiles at me.

"Michèle." He says. "Can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure." Michèle responds, walking down the steps with us.

"Do you know where your uncle keeps his keys? There must be spares. Y/N needs them, too." I raise my eyebrows in surprise at the bold question. Then I remember the Annick situation. I nod along.

A voice butts in. "Hey, are you nuts?" It's Dupin. "Don't involve the dean's niece." He's leaning against the wall with his hand on it, legs crossed. "She's gonna snitch."

"What's he talking about?" Simone asks.

"Oh no, not again." Pichon looks between us and Dupin then walks away. I look at him confused.

Michèle walks down to Dupin. "You think I'm a suck up because I'm the dean's niece?"

"Yes." I know that voice all too well. I look at Joseph, and we lock eyes. I scan his face. Nothing's changed much, but it feels like something did. He glares at me then stares baack at Michèle.

"Let's go, guys." Simone says, walking down the steps. Michèle follows, but I stay.

"I heard about what you told Pichon and Applebaum." I walk the down the steps, looking up at his towering figure. He glances at Dupin and his friend, nodding them to go somewhere else. They follow.

"What about it?" He tilts his head at me, hand in his pockets.

"Why are you threatening Applebaum's eye if he looks at me?" His jaw clenches.

He pauses. "Why not?"

"Why not?" I chuckle half heartedly. "Why not?"

"Did I stutter?" Wow, since when did he have sass?

"You're an asshole, okay? First, you talk shit about me to your friends, talk shit about my friends, then I'm now just finding out you threatened Applebaum?" I raise my eyebrows at this, disappointment seething through my teeth.

"Well, that's just life, isn't it?" What the fuck is wrong with him?

"What the fuck do you even mean? We were so close, Jo- Descamps. We were friends, didn't you think?" I stutter at saying his name, embarrassment coating my cheeks.

"Back to last name basis?" There's disappointment in his tone, but I somehow catch his eye glancing down at my lips. I flush more.

"Yeah. Why not?" I mock his words, jutting my head forward.

"Alright, Pardine. If that's what you want." He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. He's starting to piss me off.

"I didn't fucking want us to stop being friends. We had to because, for some reason, it's only now that I remembered you're an asshole."

"Whatever." He scoffs out.

"Fine." I stepped closer. I already feel his warmth.

"Fine." He steps closer. He smells the same. I wish things were still the same.

"Fuck you." That's the last thing I say before walking away, feeling his stare on my back.

××《☆》××

"Stealing Herman's frogs and Couret's movie? Did Annick cast a spell on them?" I exclaim, raising my arms. Michèle and Simone follow behind me.

"And Dupin calling me a snitch. I may be the dean's niece, but I'm no rat." Michèle says over my shoulder. I nod in agreement.

I glance at Simone, seeing her clutching her stomach. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She answers simply, face grimacing.

"You should I ask my aunt to write you a note and go home." Michèle says as she rubs Simone's arm.

"You think?" Me and Michèle nod.

"Okay. I have to go to the bathroom. It's soaked already." I nod again and lead Simone to the bathroom door.

"Michèle." I stop in my heels as Simone turns to Michèle. "You should steal the frogs. That'll shut them up." We continue to walk.

I lead Simone down the staircase, her one hand gripping mine and the other on the rails.

"Are you okay, Ms. Palladino?" Ms. Couret says, looking up at the both of us.

Simone talks to Ms. Couret and I excuse myself. Before I leave, Simone looks at me, glancing at Ms. Couret. I remember the film then nod at Simone. She nods back. I go all the way down the stairs, going out to the courtyard and on my way to the gate.

This morning, Callum called. He told me he had some news. When I asked why he chose lunch time to tell me, all he said was it was so important that he wanted to tell me face to face, and as soon as he was on his lunch break. So, naturally, I agreed.

I see the Thunderbird from a distance, its colour eye catching. A tall frame with messy brown curls exits the car, making his way to me, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

"Good afternoon, beautiful." I roll my eyes at the name, smiling. He simply chuckles. I walk out the gate. He hands me the bouquet.

"What is it?" I ask, implying the news he wanted to tell me.

"Not even a hello? I'm hurt." I stick my tongue out to him. "Anyways, how do you feel about Paris?" My ears perk up at the mention of the city.

"Paris? I miss the place. Why do you ask?" My heart beats in excitement, not knowing what to expect.

"Well, the people loved you so much. The company that released the magazine contacted me to get to you." I raise my eyebrows as he pauses. He furrows his.

"You don't get it? They want you in Paris by summer because they want you to model! Like, professionally." My eyes blow wide open and I gape in surprise. My mouth open and closes, not knowing what to say.

"Callum." I stutter out. "Please don't lie."

"I'm not." Tears rim my eyes, and I blink them away.

"I swear Callum if you're lying-"

"I'm not! I swear on my life." He laughs, his breath blowing on my face.

"Fuck, Callum." I give him a hug, wrapping my arms around his torso, gripping him to stay upright, my mind unable to grasp whether this was real or not.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders, rubbing my back and kissing my hair. "You deserve this. I'm so proud of you."

I pull away from his chest, dried streams of quiet tears on my face. Callum still wipes them away.

"Let me take you out tonight." My heart sort of drops. I can't, I tell myself. Why can't I? Then, a one-eyed boy is in my mind again. Oh. I grip my bouquet.

"Sure." Joseph wouldn't care. I then realised that he probably never did. Whatever, it's fine. But really, it isn't. I shouldn't be thinking about him, I should be thinking about the fact people want me to model for real.

But I can't help it. There's a boy in front of me, a modelling opportunity, and a dinner to look out for tonight, but all I can think about is him.

Him and his ash coloured hair, eyes that change colour in the light, smile that makes my heart clentch in my chest, and his lips. His beautiful, plump, pink lips.

Then I look up at Callum, and he looks at me the way Joseph once did. And I crumble internally, realising how much this beautiful boy will break when he finds out how I feel about someone else.

Joseph never loved me. I don't think he did. I felt used, hurt, and betrayed after what I witnessed. And what's funny is the fact that after that incident, that's when I realised I loved him. I love him.

I love Callum, too. But the way I feel for Joseph, it's different. And it's too bad I realised I loved him and that he hated me too late. I can't help but love him anyway.

That's the thing with love, though. When you realise you feel it, you can't let go. The way it feels is so different, you're too scared to let it go because you don't know when or if you'll ever feel it again.

"I'll pick you up at 6?"

A pause.

"Sure."

××《☆》××

My footsteps echo through the halls, too loud, in my opinion. I follow Michèle, her eyes glancing at me from time to time. I guard the door as she walks in and grabs both of the needed keys.

She gives me my set, whispers good luck, and walks to her room. I part to mine.

I quickly unlock the room and close it behind me, a quiet click sounding around the empty class. The film was situated at the table, leaning against some books. It looked like it was meant to be stolen.

Then I hear footsteps shuffling outside. I get under the table, trying to figure out the noise. It was too flat to be heels, and it was too heavy to be a woman. It sounded like thudding than clicking. Then the door opens, and I see brown oxfords. I know those oxfords. They've been in my flat before.

I get up from my spot, accidentally hitting my head on the edge of the table. Hard.

"Shit, Y/N. Are you okay?" Descamps sprints over to me, hands cupping my head and inspecting the hit area.

"It's Pardine to you, Descamps. And no, do I look okay?" I push his hands away, fixing my hair and dress. I look up at him, and he's already looking at me.

"What now?" I groan, crossing my arms. Descamps raises his brows, crossing his arms, too.

"You think you're the only one who wants to get the film?" He bends down to reach my height. I flush at the proximity.

"I certainly was here first."

"Well, too fucking bad, because I have it now." He snatches the film of the table. I grunt, trying to grab it. He lifts it over his head, stretching his arm. He's smiling. How much I hate that smile.

"Fuck you, Descamps." I push him off, making my way to the door. There's footsteps outside again. I stumble backwards.

"Go, go, go!" I nudge Descamps to the table, planning to get under it again. Our knees push against each other as we try to fit in the small area. A couple of swears and names were silently thrown around but were silenced when the door opened slowly.

I held my breath as Descamps did. I absentmindedly grip his calf, and his hand was gripping mine. In other circumstances, he'd be whispering reassurances in my ear, holding me close with his arms, and kissing my head 'till I calmed down.

This wasn't one of those circumstances.

After a while, there was a snore. I furrow my eyebrows. Snoring? I slowly come out of the nook, not before Descamps pulls me back down and asks me what I'm doing. I shush him, going back up slowly. His hand is still gripping mine. It feels the same as it did all those other times.

I make it to the edge of the table, and across the room, one of the janitors was sitting on a class chair, snoring the afternoon away.

I sigh in relief, coming back down to Descamps. He raises his brows at me.

"So?"

"He's dead asleep."

"Do we stay here 'till he leaves?" I think about it for a moment.

"I guess. It'd be too risky to leave. The door's too loud."

"Fuck. I guess I'm stuck here with you." He rolls his eye. The audacity.

"Hey, I'm not the one talking shit about my friend." He scowls at me.

"Well, I'm not the one who's fucking assuming."

We argue whisper shouting.

"I saw you! And I heard you!"

"You don't know why I was saying that!"

"I know exactly why! You hate me!" That makes him shut up.

"What?"

"You hate me, Descamps."

"Why would you even think that?" There's a tone I can't tell. Like he's hurt, or in disbelief, or in denial.

"Because you're-" He cuts me off.

"Why would I ever hate you?" He squints at me a bit, voice wavering.

"You-" He cuts me off again.

"I could never hate you." Tears brim my eyes at his words. I look at him quietly.

"Stop lying, Descamps." My voice breaks.

"I-" He sighs, looking down at his lap.

I sniffle, wiping my nose. I turn around, back against his clamped legs. And he stays still. We've done this before. Except my back was against his chest, and he was combing my hair with his fingers.

"And Annick." I feel him tense.

"What about her?" I scoff in disbelief.

"You're doing this for her, right?" I turn my head, not really looking at him.

"What? Oh, no, of course not. I was here because Pichon told me, or really I made him tell me that you-" His voice gets cut off and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"That I what?" I urge him to continue. Incoherent noises come from the back of his throat, stuttering against his teeth. He sighs, wiping his palms on the cloth of his knees.

"That you were coming here." It comes out as a mumble, and I almost didn't hear it from the way my heart was thumping and blocking my hearing.

"Why would you care?" There's a pause again, and it's suffocating.

"So that I'll know how easy it'll be to get it before you do." I snap my head forward, looking at the blank wood of the table.

A few seconds pass by. I hear his voice again.

"What about you? Why do you want an hour with Annick?" I keep my head straight this time while talking.

"I need to keep up with her." I shrug simply.

"Why? You're already doing so well in class." I flush at the compliment, but shake my head.

"Well, I could do better." I sigh deeply, seemingly annoyed at the question. I still want him talking to me, though.

"I mean, sure, but isn't it draining?" My hearing blurs for a second at the question.

"Of course it is." I keep my answer plain, but my voice breaks. I hear his heavy breathing.

"You know that I know how much you study. Even if we're... not so close as we were before, I still think you should take a break."

A memory comes to mind. I lean over my books on my bed, writing notes on the pages. Feet thumping against wood floors doesn't break my focus, but a hand caressing my back does. I still remembered the way he whispered against my ear, telling me to take a break. The way he cupped my hand to stop it from writing. The way that the bed dipped as he sat down and wrapped his arms around my waist. How much I missed those nights.

"You know, I used to fake studying so you could come close." I blurt out, not caring what I say anymore.

He doesn't respond immediately. "Yeah?" I hum in response.

"I used to make every excuse to come close." I shiver at the confession, wishing I could turn back time to every moment he came close and held me.

"It's too bad you're an asshole." He chuckles.

"Really is too bad."

I guess that was where the conversation ended, though I'm not sure, but after a while, we hear the janitor get up and leave. I slowly come out of the hiding spot, dusting my dress again.

Before I leave the room, a hand grabs my wrist. I don't turn around, but suddenly, my hands clasp a rectangular object. Descamps drops my hand and leaves.

When the door closes, I just stare at it. Then, I raise my hand. The film was in it.

××《☆》××

I walk with Pichon to the alley, watching familiar faces look at us. I avoid Descamps' gaze, focusing on Michèle and smiling at her.

"There they are!" One of them calls out.

"So?"

"We've got them." Pichon answers, dropping the bag. I hand the film to Annick, leaning into her ear.

"Descamps did it. Give him the hour." I purse my lips, then walk away from her. She turns her head to Descamps, and I'm too scared to see if she looks at him the way I used to. Well, really, I still do.

I walk to Michèle, smiling at her. Then I look at Applebaum.

He hasn't changed much, and when he catches me staring, he turns as red as his name and looks away. I laugh a little, then start to feel bad about the fact that Descamps had threatened him. I'll talk to him about it later.

We all lean and look at Pichon as he opens the pouch, frogs hopping out of it. I yelp, trying to get away from them.

"It only took five minutes?" Dupin asks.

"He's smarter than all of you." Laubrac answers.

"Can't wait to see Herman's face."

They start to grab the frogs and chase each other with it. Dupin lifts it up to my face, and I yelp, running away.

Strong arms lift me off the ground, the familiar scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne fill my senses.

"Come on, go chase Felbec or something. Not her." Dupin nods and runs elsewhere.

He gently places me on the ground again, cupping my face.

"You okay?" He whispers. I nod.

"Don't talk to Applebaum. I saw you looking at him. I know you know that I threatened him, it's only because he's a fucking weirdo and you know it. Please." He reads me too well. I nod again.

"Thanks. Now go home." He pulls his hands away, grabbing another cigarette.

I stumble backwards, walking away fully.

Almost halfway home, I remember leaving something. It was a tie I accidentally dropped when Descamps lifted me off the ground. It was pretty special, so I went back for it.

Turning to the now golden lit alley, my feet stutter to a stop when I see Descamps against the wall, some girl from school splayed over him, her hand on his chest and lips close to his.

The garbage rattles and their heads turn to me. I make a run for it, leaving the tie to be forgotten.

I should've known. He never loved me. He always hated me. Since when were they even hanging out? What if they were together the whole time? I gag at the thought.

I hate him. I hate him so much. But I don't.

Fuck, this hurts.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter six: Mischief Managed

Next- Chapter seven: Salvatore

××《☆》××

So that took SUCH A LONG TIME. Um very angsty good or very angsty bad? Idk if I spell checked or grammar checked this well, so if u see smth, dm me PLS

Also for the F1 fans, ik im late w news, but 1-2 ferrari, carlos pole after appendix got removed, ferrari and mclaren top 4 domination, hamilton and verstappen dnf, george flipping over on the middle of the track, and fernando alonso getting p1 for a few minutes. Austrailia GP will always be wild.

HAPPY READING!!! 6/10 CHAPTERS DONE

[aireia]

Oh universe! — What happens when you fall in love with the vice president of the student council?

tw/cw: gn! reader, fluff + crack(?). gojo's an idiot. not proofread + rushed. author is stupidly sick, fic makes zero sense.

note: don't expect too much from this fic D: —masterlist

The universe has a love-hate relationship with Satoru. No, screw that, it’s against Satoru Gojo. It’s against his relationship between him and the person standing beside him in the student council room, because he can no longer count how many times he’s tried to confess to you, and gotten interrupted by another student pulling you or him away. 

Now, he knows both of you are busy as leaders in the student council, and he’s fairly popular too, but that doesn’t have any business to meddle with his love life! Especially because he’s also lost track of how much money he’s spent on these failed confessions – excluding the tubs of ice cream he buys after each one to comfort himself. (Suguru and Shoko have to take some away from him to prevent him from eating that much sugar.)

“How many is that?” Suguru asked his brunette friend as they both stared out the window at the scene of you being dragged away by students while Satoru sighed in defeat. “I dunno, sixth? Maybe seventh? We just need to make sure he doesn’t eat enough desserts to get himself sick. Y/n told me something about a meeting they would be having tomorrow about our graduation trip.” “Just bribe him with the fact that they’re going to be there. He’ll be sure to return back to whatever he’s on before all the confessions.”

-

“Really?!” Satoru’s eyes lit up right before he managed to grab the 2nd tub of strawberry ice cream. “...Are you really the president of the student council? How do you not know about this?” “I was only focusing on y/n when they said the news.” 

That caused both his friends’ faces to contort into disgust. Maybe they shouldn’t have told him and let him miss the meeting instead, but you’d probably be kind enough to find him before the meeting and drag him there.

-

“A trip to the mountains…” you mumbled to yourself as you scanned through the papers that were handed out during the meeting. You had been assigned to take care of accommodations. Satoru, on the other hand, was devastated . He had been assigned to take care of the food. No doubt all of you would be getting kikufuku for breakfast, lunch, and dinner for three days straight.

That would’ve been the case, if he didn’t drag you to multiple cafes to plan the trip. Granted, he did treat you to a lot of your favourite snacks and drinks, so going out with him wasn’t that bad. 

The both of you sat in silence most of the time, surprisingly. Sometimes the snowy haired male would sneak in some small talk, but the only time you spoke half the time would be for each other’s opinions. Satoru tried to get you to agree to the worst diets you’ve seen in your entire life. You rejected. 

You tried to propose a few spots to stay in. and Satoru agreed to most of them, though you scrapped your own ideas just moments after he agreed. 

-

You breathed out through your mouth, watching as puffs of smoke escaped your lips. You were standing on the balcony of your room. Staring at the city you call home from the mountains. 

“There you are.” Someone draped a blanket over your trembling body. It’s Satoru, you noted. You could recognise his voice even in a room full of people. “You made a good choice choosing this place. The view is pretty.” Satoru sang words of praise to you, joining you on the balcony. 

“Thank you,” you responded, not bothering to look at him. A long period of silence ensued between the both of you, and Satoru found it to be torture. You’re alone, right? That means he can confess. But how? He looks at your lips. They’re trembling from the cold. 

“Your lips look cold. Do you think I could warm them up for you?” his words spilled out before he processed it. You looked at him weirdly before laughing.

“Is that… How you confess to people?” you continued to laugh, and it reminded him of the first breeze of spring. Playful, calm, refreshing from the cold from winter. Once he realised what he had said, he choked on air and stuttered out, “It’s not! I swear it’s just–” Satoru tried to find the words to explain himself, his head now working overtime to search for the vocabulary that left his mind when these types of situations happened. 

You grinned and cupped his cheeks before pulling him down to gently kiss him, only pulling away once the both of you had relaxed. You couldn’t help but smile at the dust of pink on his face. You were sure there were some on your cheeks too.

“Yea, it is warmer now.”

Maybe the universe isn’t all that against him after all.

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.

[schrodingerspsycho]

Another Shot - Chapter 2

Pairing - Sam Carpenter x Reader

Warnings - Mentions of alcohol, addiction, weed

Word Count - 5.1k

Summary - (Some of) the truth comes out. Tensions rise between you and Sam.

Chapter 1

Help Palestine by clicking this link!🇵🇸

You couldn’t sleep. Of course, you couldn’t. Sam Carpenter was in New York City.

All the memories you’d tried so hard to repress had come flooding back in full force, washing over you like a tidal wave. It hurt more than you would’ve imagined. And that fucking look in her eyes. As if she had any right to be angry with you. It made your blood boil. God, you wished you could hate her.

But you couldn’t. Yes, the memories were bitter, but they were still oh-so-sweet. You wanted nothing more than to crawl back to that better time when she was by your side and you were happy, uncaring of how the broken glass cut your hands and knees along the way. Then you remembered that fucking face, and you knew you couldn’t do that either.

You groaned and rubbed your eyes, which still ached from crying, and rolled over to stare at the clock. It was four in the morning. You wanted a drink. How ironic, Sam made you want to drink.

Instead, you opted for the one vice you still allowed yourself; weed. You stepped onto the balcony as you lit up, pulling your blanket tight around your shoulders. Just a few hits to help you sleep, you told yourself. The high would pass before your shift started. And just this once, you let that be a lie.

Luckily, you had an afternoon shift, and the weed was completely out of your system by the time you clocked in. Not that anyone would have cared, you wouldn’t be the first person to show up to work high. But you didn’t want to risk it. You couldn’t lose this job. So you made an effort to push Sam far from your mind and man the counter with a smile on your face. And it would’ve worked too, if it weren’t for her meddling little sister.

“Hey, Tara!” you smiled when she walked in. She waved back, clearly distracted. You took no notice, turning back to the lobby to go about your business. But Tara stepped out in front of you, blocking your path and nearly making you drop the menus you were carrying. “Shit! What the hell, dude? Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you cried.

“I want to know what happened,” she said, ignoring you. “Sam wouldn’t tell me.”

You stared at her. “Are you serious? I told you to drop it.”

“You didn’t really think that was going to stop me, did you?”

You sighed. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, or maybe you were secretly dying to unload all the memories clogging your brain. And talking about your feelings was supposed to help, right? “If I tell you, you can never bring this up again, got it?”

“Got it.” She crossed her finger over her heart, excitement shining in her eyes. You hoped she wouldn’t regret asking for the truth.

“If you can get Jay to give us our breaks at the same time, I’ll tell you then.”

Tara nodded and rushed off to find your manager, finally leaving you in peace. Maybe after this, you would finally be able to put it all behind you. And if Sam didn’t want Tara to know… then perhaps you could relive it after all. Sure, it was petty. But after everything she’d put you through, you deserved to be a little petty.

Jay must’ve been in a good mood because he granted Tara’s request. She didn’t mention her sister again for the first half of the shift, choosing instead to gush about how Chad had surprised her by taking her out for breakfast that morning. You listened eagerly, glad to finally put a face to the name you’d heard so many times.

“He’s going to come in to have lunch with me tomorrow,” she smiled. “Are you working the morning shift? I want you to actually meet him. I think you’d get along.”

“Yeah, I’m working a double tomorrow. I look forward to it.”

“Yay!” she exclaimed, and you grinned back at her. She’d only been working at the diner for two weeks, and she’d already become one of your best friends. You hadn’t grown so close with someone so quickly since… well, you knew where she got her charm.

Your break time seemed to arrive faster than ever, and you steeled yourself for your unorthodox therapy session as you made your sandwich. Tara was watching you like a hawk as if she expected you to run away.

“You sure you wanna do this?” you asked her. “Last chance to change your mind.”

“You have to know that only makes me more desperate to hear this story.”

“Fine,” you sighed. You led her into the break room and shut the door, making sure no one would overhear. She gazed up at you, her eyes wide and serious now as you sat next to her on the couch.

“Take your time,” she said softly. You nodded in appreciation, and with a deep, shuddering breath, you began.

“We met through a Facebook group four years ago. It was for young people in Modesto who were trying to get sober. Like a support group, but without the stuffiness of AA.”

“Wait, when you say sober, you mean-”

“Alcoholics,” you nodded, a grim look on your face. “Some people were addicted to other things too, and we did what we could to help. Mostly cigarettes, like your sister. She’d weaned herself off the harder drugs by that point, thankfully. We would have meetings in coffee shops and cafes, and sometimes people would host at their apartments during the week. Then we would all go out to clubs or parties together on the weekend.”

Tara stared at you, bewildered. “What? How is that helpful?”

“It wasn’t. The idea was that we would do all our drinking in one night and stay sober the rest of the week, but there weren’t any professionals involved. Most people at least thought they wanted to get sober, but we all wanted to drink more. It was still better than getting hammered every night, but not by too much.” You swallowed, and your hands started fidgeting; one of your nervous habits. You hadn’t spoken this much about your alcohol problems in a long time. “Anyway, that’s how we met. I don’t remember which one of us joined the group first, it’s been such a long time. I mean, your sister was still using a fake ID to get booze back then!” You chuckled at the memory. “But we became friends pretty quickly. Then we realized our apartments were only a neighborhood away from each other, so we started going to meetings together. And after about a year of being friends, we started- well…”

“You started dating?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “God, no. She never would’ve made a commitment like that. She was kind of infamous for it, actually.” You took a swig of your soda, hoping to dowse the heat you felt rising in your cheeks. “But we were probably the closest thing to it. We were together just about every other night, we knew each other better than anyone, she knew I wasn’t seeing anyone else and after a while, she stopped seeing other people too. Pretty much all we would’ve had to do was say the words. But that was the problem. She never wanted to talk about anything real. Her past, her feelings, our relationship, nothing. I knew who she was, but I didn’t know anything about her. And believe me, when you drink with someone for that long, you get to know them really well. She knew how I felt about her, how much I cared for her, and she just wouldn’t reciprocate. But I told myself that being with her was enough. And maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. I don’t even remember.”

“Then what happened?” Tara asked, her voice small.

“About a year into us being… whatever we were, there was… an incident. We went out together, without the group, to a house party. That I invited her to. And we were having fun, y’know, drinking, dancing, just having a grand ol’ time. Then she asked me to go to the bar to get her another shot.” You ran your hand through your hair to try to quell the agitation bristling in your chest. “It took me two minutes to push through the crowd, get the drinks, and come back. Two minutes. But when I came back, she was… she was…” Angry tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned away from Tara. You hated that it still had such a hold on you, even after all this time.

Tara laid a shaking hand on your back and you let out a strangled sob. Why was this so fucking hard? You felt like you were back there, the pounding of your heart drowning out the loud music, your vision blurring, the taste of vodka burning your throat, and the feel of your stomach dropping down to hell.

“She was making out with someone else,” you croaked. Tara’s hand stilled, and from the corner of your eye, you saw her mouth open in a silent gasp. “It was some- some guy. Just a random, boring-ass guy. She didn’t even know his name. And when I asked her what the hell she was doing, she laughed. Like it was all just some big fucking joke.” Your fists were clenched, and you could feel your fingernails digging into your palms. Then the tears finally began to fall. “She told me we were nothing. That I meant nothing.”

“I… I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Tara breathed. You leaned back against the couch and wiped your eyes, chuckling in spite of yourself.

“We were both drunk and angry, so what happened next is kind of a blur. But we started shouting at each other, and I think I was crying. I don’t know. Then she slapped the drink out of my hand and spat in my face.”

“She what?” Tara uttered, appalled. You laughed again. It was a sinister sound, but Tara didn’t seem to notice and you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“That was actually the most normal thing she did that night,” you said, to Tara’s growing horror. “She’s an aggressive drunk, and it was far from the first time she’d spat at me. But she’d never done it as an insult before.”

“That’s disgusting,” Tara said. You finally turned to look at her.

“I want you to know, I’m not trying to make you think badly of your sister or anything. I think it’s great that you’re talking again, and I would never do anything to hurt your relationship. I’m just telling you my side of the story.”

“I know,” Tara assured you. “Thank you.”

You shook your head. “I’m not even upset that she didn’t feel the same way. I just wanted her to be happy, and we weren’t even together. But she just had to let me down in the cruelest way possible. She knew how much she was hurting me, and she did it anyway. With a smile on her face.”

“That’s fucking bullshit,” Tara grumbled, and you gave her a brief smile. “So what happened after that?”

“Well, I went home, and the next day I found out she had blocked me on everything. She even left the Facebook group. And the next thing I know, I hear she’s calling this guy her boyfriend and switched to a new shitty, minimum-wage job so she could work with him. She led me on for a whole year, then committed to him in one night. I lost my partner and my best friend at the same time. In two fucking minutes.”

You sat in silence for several moments, the conversation weighing heavily on both of you. When Tara finally spoke, her voice was thick with emotion.

“Thank you for telling me all of this. I know it wasn’t easy for you to relive it. I’m sorry she did that to you, and I’m sorry that I’ve brought it all back-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you insisted. “She’s your sister, and you can’t help that I have a history with her. What happened with us- whatever happens with us- none of it is your fault.” She nodded, but the look in her eyes told you she didn’t believe it. “She told me about you, y’know.”

“She did?”

“Oh, yeah. I could never get her to talk about herself, but if you got enough alcohol in her, she wouldn’t shut up about her baby sister.” You grinned at Tara, and she smiled back. “You’re exactly the way she described you.”

“I’m gonna assume that’s a compliment,” she chuckled. Then her expression turned serious. “I really am sorry that she did that to you, Y/N. It’s… it’s horrible. But I can promise you, Sam’s changed. She’s sober now, and she’s reliable. She’s done so much work to be a better person. She would never do something like that now.”

You gave Tara a sad smile. “I’m happy to hear that, I really am. But I’m going to need her to prove that to me herself.”

“C’mon, Mindy, let’s go.”

“Can’t we just stay in our rooms? We won’t interrupt-”

“No.”

“She said she’d tell us later, let’s just give them some space.”

“Fine.”

Sam put down her book. The twins had been quietly doing their homework on the couch for the last hour, giving her a much-needed respite after the back-to-back six-hour shifts she’d worked at her two jobs today. But now their hushed voices roused her, drawing her from her room in time to see Tara ushering them out the door. “Hey, how was work?” she asked nervously. She didn’t like the serious look on Tara’s face.

“It was fine,” she said with a sigh. “We need to talk, Sam.”

Sam felt her heart rate spike, and her mouth went dry as her palms started to sweat. Truthfully, hearing those words from Tara was more terrifying than the five Ghostfaces she’d faced. She nodded numbly and took a seat at the kitchen table, following Tara’s lead.

“Y/N told me what happened between you two,” Tara began, and Sam’s breath hitched. She knew she should’ve expected this, but it caught her off guard all the same. “I don’t believe they would lie to me, but I have to ask… did you really cheat on them? After leading them on for a year?”

“Yes. I did.” Sam felt like crying. Having you as a reminder of her mistakes was bad enough, but now Tara was judging her too. She wanted to beg you both for forgiveness, but she knew she didn’t deserve it.

“Jesus, Sam,” Tara groaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “That’s really shitty. Do you know how broken up Y/N still is about it?”

“I know. I’m so sorry, I-”

“I’m not mad at you, Sam.”

“You’re… you’re not?”

“No,” Tara said with a small smile. “I’ve forgiven you for worse. And I know you’ve changed. We don’t need to talk about what happened.”

“Then what do you want to talk about?”

Tara grinned. “Do you still love them?”

“What?” Sam stared at her, shocked. “Who-who said anything about love?”

“Okay, fine. Do you still like them?” she corrected, rolling her eyes.

Sam gaped at her as her cheeks started to burn. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. Y/N doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I need to respect that.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Did you see how they looked at me?” she deflected, beginning to sound choked up. “They hate me. And they have every right to.”

“They don’t hate you, Sam,” Tara said kindly, placing a comforting hand over her own. “Trust me. Yes, they’re hurt. Really hurt. But they wouldn’t be if they had moved on.”

“Or if I hadn’t cheated on them and treated them like shit,” Sam mumbled. She leaned against the table and put her head in her hand. Just like mom.

“I think you were wrong,” Tara said, ignoring her. “There is something you can do about it now.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“You can apologize!” she smiled.

“You don’t really think it’s that simple, do you?” Sam scoffed. “Apologizing doesn’t just make things go away, Tara. Not something like this. It won’t mean anything.”

“Yes, it will,” she said softly. “It’ll show them that you’ve changed and that you know it was wrong to cheat on them. It’ll let them know that you’ll be a better person if you start talking again. I mean, sure, it’s not gonna fix everything right away, but it would be a start.”

Sam shook her head. “That’s not enough. It wouldn’t be enough.”

Tara sighed. “Will you at least answer my question?”

“What question?”

“Do you still have feelings for Y/N?”

Sam stood up abruptly and turned away from Tara. She ran her hands through her hair and took a deep breath. “Where did you send the twins off to?”

“Seriously, Sam? Are you really just going to ignore me?”

“I was thinking I could make spaghetti for dinner, does that sound good?”

Tara glared at her incredulously. “You are unbelievable,” she said, standing up and stomping toward her room. She slammed the door, and Sam stared at it for a long moment. Despite everything, Tara was an optimist, and Sam admired her for it. But two little words wouldn’t mean anything in the face of what she’d done to you. No matter how much she wished it could.

After telling Tara the truth, the rest of your shift had felt awkward, with both of you staying uncharacteristically silent when you weren’t talking to customers. But luckily, everything was back to normal the next morning. You had teased her for being a few minutes late, she teased you for always arriving early, and you passed the time by joking around like you always did. She once again asked Jay if you could take your breaks together, and he once again obliged.

“Dang, he must really like you,” you smiled at her. “He never would’ve said yes if I asked him.”

She shrugged. “I’m very likable.”

“Yeah, you are. Little manager’s pet.”

“Maybe I’ll ask him not to give you a break at all.”

“What, am I suddenly not good enough to meet your boyfriend?”

“No, I’m excited for you to meet him,” she grinned. “He’s excited to meet you, too.”

“Then it sounds like we’re all excited. It’s going to be a very exciting lunch break.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, nudging you playfully as she went to make another pot of coffee. Usually, it was all the customers ordered at this time of day, which made the morning shifts more bearable. You were able to hang out and talk with each other while they finished their nearly forgotten homework and nursed their hangovers, frying up some eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns every now and then. It made the time fly, and soon Jay was calling you and Tara to go on break.

Chad arrived just as you finished making your food, announced by Tara’s squeal of delight. She ran to him and leapt into his arms, and he spun her around gleefully. The few customers in the lobby didn’t even look up from their phones.

“Y/N, get over here! I want you to actually meet Chad!” Tara called, beckoning you with her hand. You smiled and headed over, your tray of food in hand.

“Shouldn’t you let him order first?”

“No, it’s fine. He doesn’t need to eat,” she smirked. He gave her a look of feigned offense.

“Excuse you, I’m very hungry. I ate a very light breakfast so I would have room for an amazing lunch made by my beautiful girlfriend.”

“I’m not gonna make your food, I’m on break,” she said, turning to face him. “That was really stupid of you to not eat.”

“Well, then what did I come here for?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“You’re breaking my heart, you know that, Tara? You’re breaking your boyfriend’s heart.”

“Oh, please, you eat enough of my cooking at home,” she grinned, leaning in closer.

“Anyway, I’m Chad! It’s nice to meet you,” he smiled, looking up quickly when he remembered you were there. Tara blushed.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you chuckled. “I’m Y/N. Tara’s told me a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope?”

“Mostly.”

He grinned. “Well, I’m going to go order some food made by a stranger, and then I’ll join you.”

Tara stuck her tongue out at him as he left, and you followed her to the table where she had set her food. “Sorry about that,” she said sheepishly as you sat down.

“Don’t worry about it. You two are adorable.”

“Thanks,” she smiled.

After a few moments of eating in silence, Chad joined you once again. “Alright, where were we?” he asked, sliding into the booth next to Tara. You looked at his tray and smirked at her. He’d ordered exactly what she’d said he would.

“You were about to tell me about yourself,” you prompted. He smiled.

“Well, I’m Tara’s amazing boyfriend who’s known her since we were five, I’m studying sports medicine at Blackmore, I was the offensive lineman on my high school football team, Mindy is my twin sister, and my favorite Pokémon is Meganium. What else do you want to know?”

You laughed and Tara raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, that’s certainly an introduction,” you remarked.

“What? Those are important things to know about me!”

“They sure are, babe. You’re doing great,” Tara said, patting his arm.

“And you said you go to NYU, right? What are you studying?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t start until next year, but I’m going to study photography. I actually can’t wait to start classes, I’ve been saving up for it for years.”

“That’s really cool! What kind of photography do you do?”

“I want to study different kinds, but I love taking pictures of little moments in regular life. Like the little things that no one notices, the things that tell stories. Candid photography, I guess.”

“That sounds really interesting! I’d love to see some of your photos sometime.”

“Thanks! Yeah, Tara’s been wanting me to show her my portfolio.”

“And yet you keep denying me!” she accused.

“I’ve told you, they don’t look good on my tiny phone screen!” you replied. “I can’t exactly bring my laptop to work, can I?”

“I’m sure we can figure out a time when we can all see your amazing pictures,” Chad said, putting his arm around Tara.

“Yeah, maybe,” you mumbled, blushing a little at the praise. “It’s cool that you were able to go to the same college. And your sister, too. That must be really fun for you guys.”

“Yeah, we’re really lucky we found a place that has a good sports medicine program for me, a poli-sci program for Tara, and a film program for Mindy. Although, we probably would’ve gone to the same school no matter what. It’s important that we stick together. After all, we can’t split up-”

“Do not say it,” Tara scolded him.

“-the Core Four!”

Tara punched him in the chest and he swooped down to kiss her cheek.

“What is the Core Four?” you asked.

“Me, Tara, Mindy, and Sam! It’s what we call our little squad.”

“It’s what you call us,” Tara retorted. “He comes up with these stupid nicknames and doesn’t listen to us when we tell him they’re terrible.”

“Oh, c’mon, you secretly love my nicknames. Don’t you, Taradactyl?”

She looked appalled. “Yeah, that’s an immediate no.”

“But I thought you liked that one!”

“I absolutely do not. Get away from me.”

“Whatever. You like Core Four. You’ve said it.”

“I have not!”

“Yes you did, Sam told me,” he said smugly.

“Lies and slander.”

He stole one of her fries and she tried to shove him out of the booth, a goofy grin on her face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics.

“You two are very entertaining,” you commented.

“Are you making fun of us?” Tara demanded, still grinning.

You put your hands up in surrender. “Not at all. Having a similar sense of humor is important in a relationship. You two seem perfect for each other.”

“Why, thank you, Y/N. I’m glad someone thinks so,” Chad said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you thought we were perfect for each other, then you would support my nicknames.”

“Oh, shut up,” she groaned, leaning back against him. He kissed the top of her head before turning back to you.

“Speaking of relationships, are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope,” you smiled. “I only moved here a couple of months ago, so I haven’t really had time to meet anybody.”

“Then we need to get on that!” he exclaimed. “We don’t want you to be lonely! I’m pretty sure we know someone your age who you’d get along with. What are you, twenty-four?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m twenty-five, and it’s rude to ask.”

“You’re absolutely right, it is rude. I’m sorry. But you know what, Tara’s sister is right around your age, and she’s single too! Her name is Sam, she’s the absolute coolest, and- hey, didn’t you say you knew her already?”

You shot Tara a look of disbelief, but she avoided your gaze. “I do know her. I was just talking to Tara about her yesterday. And you know what, I just remembered that Sam once showed me some of her baby pictures.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, she wouldn’t stop talking about you,” you said pointedly. “It’s all coming back to me now. Little baby Tara… in the bathtub…”

“Okay, okay! We’ll stop talking about Sam!” Tara cried, her face bright red. You smirked at her.

Shouldn’t have broken your promise, you thought. At least she had the decency to look guilty.

The conversation carried on normally after that, with you and Chad discussing your favorite action movies and comic books. Tara was right, you did get along well. As it turned out, he had already seen the movie you were looking forward to seeing this weekend on your rare Saturday off. Tara had to quiet him before he accidentally spoiled it in his excitement, but he gave it a rave review. It was enough to distract you from the fact that Sam was apparently single again, at least for a little while. And when Jay called you back to work and you bid your goodbyes to Chad, you decided that it had indeed been a very exciting lunch break.

Sam found herself spending her Saturday off at the movies. She hadn’t been to a theater in months for obvious reasons, but Tara knew she wanted to see the new comedy that came out this weekend and convinced her to go. She was anxious like she always was when she was out in public, but she was glad to be spending some quality time with her sister. Saturday matinees used to be their thing, and Tara still bounced on her heels while she waited for her popcorn like she did when she was little.

But something seemed off with her as they walked toward the theater. She kept glancing behind her as if she was looking for something. But before Sam could ask her what was wrong, Tara spun around and slammed into her.

“I think the popcorn needs more- fuck!”

Sam looked down to see the front of her hoodie covered in Tara’s soda.

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry, Sam!”

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “It was an accident, I’ll be fine. At least it didn’t get on my jeans.”

“Here, I’ll take the popcorn and save our seats. You go get some napkins and clean yourself up,” she said, gazing up at her apologetically. Sam nodded and handed her the bucket.

She pulled the sticky hoodie over her head as she walked, thankful that she had worn a tank top underneath it. And the theater still had the heat on despite the warming weather outside, so she wouldn’t be cold. It was still shaping up to be a pretty good day.

But before she could reach for the napkins, a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you said as you looked up from your freshly buttered popcorn.

“Y/N.”

“Sam.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see a fucking movie, obviously,” you hissed. Sam rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I should’ve known,” she mumbled, her gaze drifting to where Tara was spying on you from around the corner. Your eyes widened in realization.

“Dammit! That sneaky little- I never should’ve told her my weekend plans.”

“What the fuck did you just say about my sister?”

“Oh, you know damn well this isn’t about Tara! This is about us, and what you did- oh my god!” You had finally turned to look at her, and your eyes immediately went to her arms. Not because her biceps were even more muscular than you remembered, but because of the long, raised scars on her right shoulder and collarbone. Any anger you had been feeling dissipated, replaced with worry and a deep-seated need to protect. “What happened?” you asked softly, instinctively reaching out to comfort her. She flinched back, her eyes startled and scared, and you lowered your arm. She stayed silent, just standing frozen and staring at you like a lost puppy. It made your heart melt, just like it always did. “Sam, are you okay?”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” she snapped after a beat, her expression hardening back into the look of contempt you were starting to get used to. You glared right back at her.

“Fine. I don’t even know why I care,” you snarled. Her scowl faltered, but you just scoffed in disbelief and stomped away. That devilish woman may still have a cruel grip on your heart, but you wouldn’t let her see it.

“Hey, Y/N, I didn’t expect to see you here! How are you?” Tara called, running up to you. But you kept walking, your only response a look of disapproval and hurt.

“What the hell was that?” you heard her demand from Sam. “Why won’t you just apologize to them?”

“I told you, I can’t do that.”

Your vision blurred as you stepped out of earshot, her words hammering the final nail into the coffin of something that died long ago. You knew Tara meant well, but she’d taken it too far. You tried to focus on the movie as you entered the dark theater, but you knew no amount of explosions could save your ruined day.

All because of two minutes with Sam fucking Carpenter.

Taglist: @smut-religiously777

[sickeninglyshoujo]

God you’re gonna hate me for this thought but after reading dad!simon all I kept thinking was

What if the daughter did die? Like id imagine reader being fuckin PISSED and kinda being closed off with Simon cus she didn’t want her daughter being in the army and Simon wasn’t hearing her concerns

oh

oh i do hate you

but i had to write it

teared up twice writing it and said i cant cry tonight about this

part 1 - dad!simon

word count: 750

warnings: death, grief

buy me a ko-fi

They brought your daughter home in a plain pine box.

They wouldn’t let you see her no matter how you wept and tore at the lid that had been nailed tightly shut.

“Just let me see my baby, I need to make sure it’s her…Let me see her just once please…” You cried to her C.O. The man gave a pained look above your shoulder at your husband, ever your shadow, who took his silent plea and wrapped his hands around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest.

He didn’t know you could scream like that.

The days immediately after the funeral are the worst. You sit in the kitchen chair where you woodenly placed yourself after returning from the graveyard. Your eyes stare into the air in the space in front of you, unfocused and unseeing.

The kitchen hurts the most.

This was where you had so many family dinners, first with your messy baby in her high chair, a headstrong toddler demanding her own utensils, a gap-toothed child rolling her eyes at her parent’s sneaking kisses over lasagna, a moody pre-teen who insisted that she be allowed to go to base with Simon, a teenager too pretty for her own good asking her father about his time spent in the field.

You knew it was a matter of time. She took after her father more than you. When you argued with her, it was like staring into your husband’s face. Quiet determination and a total lack of regard for anything except their motives.

At 18, she enlisted. She laughed at your worried frown as her father clapped her on the back and shook her hand, “Welcome, Recruit.”

Her training with the SAS was supplemented by her father, making her truly a force to be reckoned with when put against her fellow recruits. She began bragging to you on her phone calls home, telling you all about how she planted the men flat on their asses in sparring!

Then she was no longer a recruit, but a fully enlisted member being sent onto missions with real gunfire and real danger.

You had never been one quick to prayer, even when Simon was in the service but that changed when your daughter started getting sent all over the globe in order to serve her country, until she makes one final journey home.

Simon stops eating at the table. He can’t bear to watch you sit there, eyes staring into nothing. Any words his mouth could form wouldn’t fix this. How he groomed your daughter for military duty from the cradle. Which of those trips to base was the one that had lit the spark that destined her for service? Was it one too many war stories told to her in the cradle when he was explaining where he had been? Why he hadn’t heard her first words, but that he was here now and ready to hear her talk his ear off.

You start to slowly leave the kitchen table: Perching yourself on the sofa in the living room, watching the corner she usually sat in.

Simon stops sitting in his recliner, opting instead for his office. He can’t watch you stare at the empty seat even if he had been doing the same.

It comes to a head nearly a month after her burial.

“Why can’t you look at me Simon!”

His head whips around, you hadn’t spoken much for weeks and now you were yelling at him, just this side of hysteria.

“I lost my daughter and now my husband can’t even look at me! I’m hurting Simon! I never wanted her to enlist, but you had to play war hero! You always had to be her hero and now she’s gone Si! She’s gone and I’m losing you at the same time!” Your tears are overflowing now, you’re swiping at your eyes and trying to not let them travel down your cheeks in a losing battle.

Simon’s mouth is agape, “Dove, I-”

“Don’t ‘Dove’ me! You haven’t talked to me Simon! You haven’t held me! You haven’t tried to tell me it’ll be ok and that we’ll get through this! We haven’t even slept in the same fucking bed together Simon!”

He had hoped you wouldn’t notice how he had opted for the uncomfortable loveseat hidden in his office. He had hoped you were too lost in your thoughts and grief to notice.

“Simon I can’t do this with you if you won’t help me. I need a break. I’m living with two ghosts now.”

[blakeswritingimagines]

I've loved you for a thousand years and I'll love you for a thousand more.

Summary: Telling your husband you remember your life together goes smoothly, until you feel the need to prove it to him....and he agrees.

Word Count: 3.1k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

"I remember."

Daemon's eyes lit up at the words that had been spoken. You remembered him. You remembered. He didn't want to scare you so didn't react immediately, he waited to let it sink in really truly sink in...you remembered?. Daemon was so happy at what you had said. "My love…" Daemon said in a voice filled with joy and tears. "It's me… Daemon.. your Daemon.." He continued. "Do you remember me? Us? Our marriage?" Daemon asked, looking for any sort of confirmation of what you already told him. You slowly moved closer as you placed your hands on his chest smiling up at him with the same lovestruck look that you had been giving him since you married him, gently nodding your head and placing your hands on his chest "Yes I do. We've been married for years since children practically, and we've left King's landing more times than anyone can count, when we got married you gave me a dragon egg and taught me everything about them, you taught me how to fight and take down many a man much larger than myself….that I love you and often sneak away no matter how busy because we can't keep our hands off of each other."

Daemon's heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. Finally, your mind was returned to you. Daemon couldn't believe you had said all those things, he just hoped that you understood what they meant. You were starting to seem like your old self, and it was the light Daemon had been waiting on for ages. Daemon laughed and hugged you as if this was confirmation all his dreams had come true. "You have no idea how many prayers I've sent up for your return to me," Daemon said, his voice soft and filled with love. Daemon smiled at your words and as your hand placed themselves on his chest, daemon felt a warm sensation wash over him. It was real. All of his efforts had been seen through and you were back to normal. You were back to loving and touching Daemon as you once did. It was a feeling Daemon had missed so dearly. He laughed at the idea of your last claim, he wasn't used to you being this brazen. "Y/n.." Daemon started. "I never thought I would hear those words from you again. You are everything." Daemon said, his voice filled with joy.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as a few tears fell from your eyes and down your cheeks at how much you had been missing without even knowing it, looking into his violet eyes as if he hung the moon and stars just for you "I'm sorry my love, but I'm back" Leaning in closer to him brushing your lips against his as you whispered to him "You are my sun, my moon, and the air I breathe. To me, nothing exists except you I love you my Daemon". Daemon felt like he was going to cry himself as you embraced him, your tears touching his cheeks while you showered him with your affection. He couldn't believe his ears. You remembered everything. "Darling…" Daemon felt like he would explode, his heart was beating a thousand times a second. "I've missed you so much." He said in a soft tone, as it filled him with happiness. And then you kissed him as if this was something you would do again and again for the past ten years. Daemon felt whole again.

Daemon kissed you back softly and gently. His heart had never been fuller than it was right now. He knew all of the struggle he put into getting you back and it was all worth it. You had your memories from your life together. Daemon held you close, he felt so content at this moment. Holding you once more as he kissed your neck softly. "Forever, my sweet love," Daemon said with a contented smile. "Forever." Tenderly kissing him happy with his words as if nothing had changed but saddened that he needed to feel that way as you had around, smiling at him as you pulled him closer and kissed him again slowly letting the passion build as your fingers ran through his platinum blonde locks before barely pulling away from the kiss as you looked up at him keeping your voice light and breathy as she spoke "Shall I make it up to my sweet husband for losing so much time with each other? show you truly just how much I remember?".

Daemon felt butterflies erupt in his stomach as your hand moved through his hair and your lips pressed back against his. It was even better than he had imagined it would be. When you pulled away Daemon was speechless for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. "Oh my Lady, you have shown me enough already, but I won't deny you the opportunity to show me more," Daemon said, his voice a seductive whisper. He wanted to take his wife back tonight, if he could. And if you allowed it. He most certainly would. As the two of you slowly get closer together, Daemon slowly lifted your chin up and brought your mouth nearer to his. He kissed you softly at first but then, in the heat of it all, your tongue met in what would be one of the most electrifying moments of your life. Daemon's lips pressed harder against yours as if trying to make up for the nearly two-and-a-half months of longing for your touch. Finally, his hands traveled down to your back, pressing you against his chest. A hand held your back, while the other cradled the back of your head, giving him better control of the kiss.

Daemon couldn't help but laugh as your tongues danced with one another. It was a feeling he had missed, being lost in one another. It took no time at all for Daemon to be under your spell once more, his body close and his voice low and seductive. He wanted nothing more than to take you right here. He felt as if time was a thing of the past as he pushed you against the wall, slowly beginning to take off the clothes of you. His hand grabbed your hip and pulled you closer to him. He wanted this to be the best night your memory would never forget. You gasped for breath in between the kisses as your body pressed against the wall of your shared bed chamber. You were breathing heavily and moaning softly as he caressed your soft skin. You were getting lost in his touch, your eyes closed. Your hands traced the muscles of his body as you held him tightly, wanting to feel his heat against you.

Daemon was in heaven, kissing you now felt more natural than ever. Your soft breaths against his lips was like music in his ears. He was slowly losing himself as well. Daemon felt your hands run over his body, your fingers dancing along his skin with ease as your kisses increased in intensity. The heat emanating from the touch alone was enough to send him over. He wanted more, he wanted all that he could get with you right now. Daemon's hands moved to your hips, his touch more demanding. You moaned quietly into his mouth, your lips parting in invitation as you leaned back against the wall. You let him take what he wanted, loving the feeling of his hands over your skin. Your hips pushed against his, wanting more. You slowly opened your eyes and glanced at him as he moved to hold your hips as if to show you who was in charge. Your hands moved from his back to move up his shirt, trying to open it so that you could finally touch each other's skin. Your fingers were shaking from the anticipation. A fire was growing inside you and you felt the need to be closer to him, deeper inside you.

Daemon was in control of you now, the power shift turning him on beyond imagination. You were his wife and he was going to act like it. Daemon's hands moved up your legs, towards the buttons on your clothing. He unbuttoned your shirt and ripped it off your body in one swift movement. Daemon's shirt soon followed as he ripped the top apart. He looked at you as if he had never seen you in all your beauty. His eye ran up and down your figure, the sight of you driving him to madness. You groaned with desire as he ripped your shirt off and left you in your black bra. You looked at him for a second, before smiling once more. "You are like a dragon in heat. My Daemon. The fire inside of me is burning." You took his arm and brought him closer to you. "We do not need to be apart any longer. Let us make love like we're newly wed again." You told him, as you kissed him passionately, with a lot of lust.

Daemon growled at your words before biting down on your lower lip. As they kissed, Daemon's hands traveled all over your body. They traced your curves and ran through your hair. Daemon leaned you against the wall as a light grin danced on his lips. His eyes were filled with passion and lust. Daemon didn't want to take things slow. He wanted to love you and for you to love him right now. As he kissed you with his tongue entering your mouth, Daemon let out a soft moan. Daemon felt his clothing unbuttoned and removed. You felt his tongue exploring your mouth and his hands exploring your body. You felt his hands moving to your back and taking off your bra, freeing the skin that was hidden under. You kissed back desperately and caressed his hair as he explored more of your body. Your fingers trailed across his chest and stomach as a teasing touch. "Make love to me here and now." You moaned as you grabbed him and pulled him closer, against the wall.

You were making Daemon crazy. He desperately wanted you and he would have you, here and now. Even if you couldn't remember all the details of the last two months, Daemon was ready to show you that he hadn't forgotten anything. Daemon's eyes were burning at this moment. He picked you up, his tongue still exploring your mouth. As he did this he began moving you to your bed. He laid you against it and moved closer to you. He gently started to run his hands over your body, your skin like butter to his touch. You gasped when he laid you on the bed and touched you. As his lips descended to your neck, you arched your back in pleasure. You moaned with his touch. Your hands moved to his hair once more, caressing it again. He was practically taking you to heaven with what he was doing to you and you were loving it. "My love," Daemon whispered, letting you melt into the bed. He began to kiss your neck, letting his tongue explore along your body. His lips danced across your skin, nibbling and licking lightly. He let his hand wander across your body again, exploring your form and touching you. As he did, he grew harder and harder, wanting to be inside you already. "Are you ready?" he asked, his voice laced with lustful need.

"Yes... Daemon..." You whispered as Daemon began to touch you, letting your body melt as a candle would. You moaned quietly, wanting your husband to make you his again. You wanted so badly to please him. He was the love of your life, and nothing mattered more to you than him. As Daemon’s hand continues to explore every curve of your body, you moaned softly in his ear, your body starting to react to him. You leaned in to kiss him passionately, your tongues dancing against each other as you both search for more of it. “I am ready,” you whispered. You looked at Daemon, your eyes filled with lust and desire. "Good," Daemon whispered, letting his hot breath caress your lips. He lifted himself up, his body strong and toned, his frame looking all the more impressive by the light of the candelabras that illuminated your room. He bent down as he took you into his arms, pressing the length of his body against yours as you shared a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue danced with yours, his hands cupping your face, caressing your neck and squeezing your thighs. He was ready to make you his, and he was going to take his fill after waiting so long and not touching you while you recovered.

You moaned as you felt Daemon’s body against your own. Your hands run along his strong arms and back, and your lips follow as well. You pulled Daemon closer to you, your body craving for his. With one quick movement, you pulled Daemon on top of you, your legs wrapping around him. “Take me,” You whispered in his ear as you looked into his eyes hungrily. Your hands grab Daemon’s waist, pulling him closer to you. "Oh, darling," Daemon whispered, his hands massaging your thighs, his hips moving against yours as he kept his thrusts slow not wanting to rush anything. Your voice was music to his ears, and your body was a delicious feast for his eyes to feast upon. He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth, your taste filling him with desire. He could not wait any longer; he had to have her. Daemon moved away from you slightly, giving himself a moment to admire your body before he gently pushed your legs against your chest as his cock started going deeper.

You gasped as Daemon kissed you so passionately, and you felt his hips moving against yours. You moaned loudly, as the kiss turned even deeper and lust-filled. Your hands run through Daemon's hair, pulling him closer and closer to you. When Daemon spreads your legs open, you started to shiver a little as your body reacts to his, and the tension began to release more. Your hands slowly touch his hips and back, your fingers gripping against his skin leaving marks. "Oh... Yes...," you spoke as your head tilted back moaning. "Ah Y/n," Daemon moaned into your mouth, moving his mouth down your body, and trailing kisses down your neck. He let his fingers brush against your skin, his tongue running over your body, his lips moving down to your breasts. He teased your nipples with his tongue, his voice a deep grumble as he let you know how much he wanted you, how much you made him want you, and how much he missed you. “Oh,” You said, “Yes!” as the tension between you both grew. He was ready and you were ready, and nothing was going to stop either of you.

Your entire body is shaking as you felt Daemon's hands and mouth on you, and you gripped onto the bed sheets tightly. You were left breathless, you panted heavily and sweat is running down your body leaving your body with a glow as one pleasure sensation after another is taking over you. You continued to moan loudly as the tension between you is releasing, and you were finally in your moment of pleasure. "Daemon..." you gasped as Daemon slides deeper inside of you quickening his pace. "Oh, yes..." "Just like that" Daemon moaned into your ear, his voice deep, rough, and hoarse. He let his face sink into the crook of your neck panting against your skin, breathing deeply as he felt your body shake beneath him. His body fit yours perfectly, and once his cock slammed inside of your warm pussy, you seemed to be his entire world. His hips moved quickly back and forth as he drove deeply inside you, his breaths heavy and quick.

Moaning loudly as all the tension is finally released and your body became his all over again. Your hands grab the bed sheet tightly as you feel his hips moving slowly back and forth into you, your own body moving from one pleasure shock to another. Your breathing is becoming heavy and fast, and your whole body shakes as you were reaching your peak of pleasure. Daemon groaned heavily, his body moving faster and faster as his breathing came in heavy, ragged gasps. His thrusts got faster and harder as his body finally reached the release he'd been looking for having grown used to using you instead of his hand or any whores. You were shaking as if you were having a fever as the pleasure took over your body and mind. Your whole body is trembling, your heart beating faster and faster as your breath is becoming a whisper, and your cunt tightened around Daemon's cock as you finally reached your climax.

Daemon moaned loudly as his body let loose of its final tension, his whole body shaking with his release. His breathing was slow but heavy, and his mind focused on his wife's pleasure as his hand ran through your hair as he was still deep inside you. His chest was heaving quickly, and he was exhausted from your lovemaking, but he felt alive. "My love…" he whispered, "Oh… I've missed you…" You were almost speechless as the pleasure was slowly fading and you slowly but finally came back to reality. You looked up at Daemon and saw the way he was looking at you. Your body relaxed in his arms and you smiled as Daemon’s hand ran through your hair and pressed yourself closer to him. "Daemon..." you whispered softly as you looked at him, your breath still heavy and your body still shaking. "Oh... My Daemon..." you giggled softly and then kissed him on the lips tenderly.

Daemon kissed you back lovingly, his body still tingling from the lovemaking. He was still gasping for breath as he let out a sigh of pleasure, his fingers still running through your hair as he smiled. He felt as though he was in heaven, his wife's beautiful body still close to him, your warmth and beauty around him. Daemon caressed your cheek softly, his eyes moving over your face in admiration. You were his light: his fire, his passion, his love. Nothing else mattered in his eyes right now, nothing else had ever mattered to him besides you.

"I've loved you for what feels like a thousand years…And I'll love you for a thousand more my love."

[scrollonso]

idk how it’s gonna sound butttt… a new au where lance is single dad and nando is a stepdad 🥹 i’m dead every time i get to see nando with children GIVE THIS MAN A KID😭

TYSM FOR THIS REQUEST,, rn it's just a little blurb but I might make it a little more once i finish First Kiss 😭 (1.5k words)

Lance pulled into their new driveway, his daughter screaming excitedly behind him

"We're here, Lilah, wanna look at your new room before we take in groceries?" He said, not really meaning the we, a three year old girl wasn't much help.

"Yes, please!" She shouted, signing please on her chest. Lance had made sure to teach her sign language before she learned to properly speak, before she was born he had joined a "mummy and me" facebook group looking for help and that was one of the many things he was told to do.

Lance hummed, turning off the car and going back to take Delilah out of her carseat, helping her step out of the car before heading inside.

It was a gorgeous house in a safe neighbourhood, Lance figured as she got older living in a one bedroom apartment would get harder and harder so as soon as he had the chance he asked his best friend Esteban for help in house hunting and eventually moving the furniture in. Delilah's mom decided she didn't want to be in her life almost right agter giving birth to her, it had been scary, being a single dad at 22, but he had such a great support system and an even greater little girl.

"Come on, daddy" She spoke, snapping him out of his thoughts as she tugged on his pants leg

"Yes, yes, let's go baby" Lance smiled, quick to swoop her up and carry her upstairs to her bedroom, already adorned with all of her favourite things. The walls were painted a pale blue with cloud lights hanging from the ceiling, at the apartment they had before she was always sneaking out to play outside so he hoped making her room feel outside would limit that.

"This is mine, daddy?" She asked, looking away from all the toys, books, and stuffed animals to face her dad

"Yes, princess, all yours" He nodded, not able to help the wide grin on his face as hers lit up

"Thank you, daddy!" She signed again, holding her arms up to her dad to ask for a hug, he was quick to accept, squeezing her tight as she giggled

"You can play up here while I bring in groceries, okay? Then I'll make you lunch" He pulled away, the little girl nodding and running to the toy chest in the corner of her room to see what was in it as Lance made his way downstairs.

He finally finished putting away the gorceries, wandering back upstairs to ask Delilah what she wanted

"Lilah, are you hungry?" He spoke before walking into the room, startled at the emptiness "Lilah?" He called again, now beginning to panic at the absence of his daughter.

Delilah peeked past a tall white fence, eyes locking on a man who was laying down in the sun, he looked like he was sleeping

"Excuse me?" She spoke, the small voice causing the man to open his eyes

"Hello, sweetie" He spoke, sitting up and shooting her a puzzled look, wondering where she came from. He could tell by the change of her expression that she'd never head an accent like his before

"My daddy said laying in the sun causes you to get red and hurt" She spoke matter-of-factly

"Your daddy sounds very smart, where are your mommy and daddy now?" He asked, now a little concerned

"My daddy is in the kitchen, mommy left"

Fernando tried to hide his shock at the bluntness of the little girl, just nodding at her words

"I see, where is your kitchen?"

"In my new house!" She said with emotion for the first time "Me and my daddy just moved in, he painted my walls blue and i have clouds in my rooms sky!"

He couldn't help but smile at the talkative little girl, part of him worried at how quickly she was to be comfortable around a stranger

"Do you remember which house is yours?"

"Uhm..." She trailed off, tapping a finger on her chin before swiftly shaking her head and muttering a nuh-uh

Fernando nodded, standing up from his chair and holding out his hand "Let me help you find it"

"My daddy said I shouldn't go places with strangers"

The Spaniard couldn't help but laugh, this little girl wandered into his backyard and now that he was trying to return her she was worried about him being a stranger

"I pinky promise I'm nice, I just don't want your poor daddy worrying about you, sweetie"

"My daddy isn't poor! My poppy says we have all the money"

"Of course, Sorry for assuming" Fernando smiled down at her, crouching and holding out his hand "Now, how about we get you back to your rich daddy?"

She furrowed her eyebrows, her small thinking face was extremely endearing. She held out her pinky to the strangers hand "Pinky promise you're not mean"

He locked pinkies with her right away, shaking their hands a little bit before standing up "I pinky promise"

"Okay!" She smiled, grabbing onto two of the mans fingers as they walked, Fernando almost not noticing how she was just staring up at him

"You need to look for your daddy, not at me, sweetie"

"You're handsome, do you wanna meet my daddy?"

"Do I-" He laughed, shaking his head at the little girls comment as he picked her up "Let's focus on getting you home"

Lance was horrified, he checked every room in the house before realizing he didn't shut the door after bringing groceries in, leaving the house to see the white gate was open too

"Fuck, oh my god." He muttered under his breath, trying to stop himself from pulling his hair out as he look around the yards and sidewalks nearby. Delilah was smart, she was cautious most of the time so he knew she wouldn't have crossed the street without a hand to hold but he also knew she was way too friendly

"Daddy!" He heard a voice call after what felt like forever, his head turned to the voice and before he knew it he was scooping her up from the strangers arms, hardly acknowledging him

"God, Lilah, You can't do this now that we have a new house, I had no idea where you where."

"I met a nice man, daddy! He's just like those guys you call cute in the movies!"

Lance had to stop himself from covering her mouth, taking a deep breath before turning to the man

"I'm so-" Fuck. Delilah was so right. He was just like the guys he calls cute in the movies, he was gorgeous, Lance almost collapsed at the sight of the brunette man in front of him

"I'm Fernando" The older man spoke, holding a hand out to the young dad "I live two houses down"

"Hi, I'm Lance" He smiled, taking the (audibly) Spanish mans hand with no hesitation "Thank you so much for bringing her back, please don't think badly about me this doesn't usually happen" He tried to laugh it off to hide his embarrassment

"Is okay, she was great company."

"Are your kids older?" Lance asked, figuring that since the man was so amazing with Delilah right away he mustve beem a dad

"I wish, no, Is just me"

"Oh" Lance nodded, hoping his excitement wasn't visible

"Daddy, he's single!" The little girl whispered (very loudly), Fernando smiling at the pair

"Lilah, You can't just-" He began to speak

"Are you-" Fernando started, both of them pausing to let the other speak "Would you want to get coffee or something? Sometime, or not, is okay if no"

Lance laughed, something so charming about the comdination of the mans accent and flustered blabbering "I'd love to, I hope you don't mind if Delilah tags along?"

"Of course, could I have your number? To plan, of course"

"Yes, to plan" Lance smiled, taking the phone Fernando was holding out to him and putting in the numbers "Can't wait, Fernando"

He smiled, nodding at the two before stepping back to leave "I'll see you soon?" He half questioned half stated, Lance begining to respond before Delilah cut him off

"Yes! Bye bye, Nando!"

"Do you like him daddy" Was the first thing out of the girls lips once they got inside, her dads face flushing at the suggestion

"I think its bedtime" He teased, picking her up as she began wiggling in his arms

"Daddy, no!" She giggled, trying to squirm her way away from him "I'm gonna tell Nando to not go out with you if you make me go to sleep!"

"Fine" He groaned, a smile on his face right after, looking forward to whatever was to come with him and the Spaniard (and his little princess)

[creamsickle-writes]

In A Haze: Vinsmoke Sanji x F!Reader

Tags: nsfw, drug usage (weed), dirty talk, use of the title "mistress", and creampies

When you want something, you do everything you can to obtain it. That can range from begging to scheming, but for this exchange, it was bartering. 

Sanji was a man desperate for physical intimacy, and you knew that. The cook hadn’t touched a woman before in his life, and you were determined to change that if it meant you could have a bit of the weed he grew. 

So, every now and then, you would sneak between his sheets, offering your body in exchange for a few hits. 

One could think it was demeaning to do such a thing, but it made you feel liberated, especially since Sanji was so submissive. Even though he had something you wanted, you felt powerful in this exchange as you knew that when you went too long without coming to him, he’d offer some pot; this, you knew, was his roundabout way of asking for sex.

And it wasn’t bad, especially since he liked being used like a toy. You told him what position, and he’d gladly perform, fucking you in all the best ways.

But today, you decided to treat him. After all, he agreed to give you twice his usual amount. So, you sank to your knees and took him into your mouth, bobbing your head slowly. 

Above you, he tangled his strong fingers in your hair, guiding you gently along his shaft.

“Fuck, darling…” he moaned, his voice cracking, “Oh, you’re an angel. You’re too good to me.”

You glanced at him through your lashes and watched as he lit the joint between his lips. Fucking you while high was Sanji’s favorite. And, when he sometimes gave you a hit beforehand, it was your favorite too.

You gently massaged his balls, causing him to throw his head back and groan. He takes the joint between shaky fingers and removes it from his mouth, exhaling. 

“Oh,” he moans, “Darling, could you do something for me?”

You pull off his shaft with a pop and stroke him slowly, looking up at him expectantly. 

“What is it, Sanji?”

“Could you…” he swallows, his face red, “Could you be mean to me? I’ll give you an extra ounce for it.”

Your eyes light up at the offer, “How mean do you want?”

His Adam’s apple bobs, “As mean as you think I deserve.”

You giggle a bit at that answer. He was already giving you the reigns as the dominant.

With that, you stop stroking and pushing him onto the bed, causing him to let out a surprised squeal. You crawl atop the blond man, leering down at him. You feel him shudder. 

“I honestly think you don’t deserve much, Sanji,” you start, “But…”

You take his jaw into your hands, remove the joint from his lips, and force his mouth open. Without hesitating, you spit on his tongue, and he lets out a desperate groan.

“There.” You chuckle, “Now swallow.”

He instantly closes his mouth, and yet again, you see his Adam’s apple bob. He sticks his tongue out without you asking like a desperate puppy wanting praise from its master. 

But you don’t praise him. After all, he wanted mean.

“Now, say thank you.”

“Thank you, Mistress.”

You raise your brows at the title, and you watch his face go red once he notices what he’s done. 

Oh, you could get used to this.

You placed the blunt in the ashtray beside the bed and removed your panties, leaving you and the cook nude. You positioned yourself above his red, aching cock that twitched in the open air. Your walls offer no resistance when you sink onto him, your hole having been stretched by him many times before. 

“Now you listen,” you address Sanji, “You’re not going to cum until I say so, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” It comes out breathlessly, and you push back his bangs so that he’s gazing at you with both eyes. 

You move your hips, and Sanji moans deliciously, his brows knit together in pleasure.

With fast hips, you ride him, the bed creaking under you both. Sanji’s mouth had drool on the corners, and you smirked as you watched his eyes slowly glaze over. You could tell the weed was finally hitting him.

“Mistress,” He moaned, “Please, use me, fuck me, own me!”

You giggled a bit, he had been submissive before, but you had never heard him vocalize his thoughts like this.

“Aw, you want nothing more than to be Mistress’s, don’t you?” 

“Yes-!”

“How about we make a deal?”

His eyes widen at that, and you slow your hips to a grind, “I’ll be your full-time mistress if you give me some weed whenever I ask. I’ll buy you a collar and give you little tasks… that sounds good, right?”

He nods excitedly, “Yes, yes, please!”

Your lips widen into a grin, “Then we have ourselves a deal. Your first task is to fuck me. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Sanji takes your hips into his hands and begins hammering into you, causing your breath to escape your lungs. He wastes no time pleasing you, his hips slapping against your skin. Your mouth hangs open, and you let out a moan, your hands digging into the flesh of his chest.

“Mistress,” Sanji whimpers, “You feel so good, I’m gonna-!”

“Not yet, Sanji.” You chastise him, “Hold it.”

“Mistress-!” He pleads, and you swear you see tears forming in his eyes.

You want to just let him go, to let him finish, but you remember his request and stick to it. You take his bottom lip between your thumb and forefinger, pulling his mouth open. As he’s shocked by this action, you slide your fingers into his mouth, and he immediately begins sucking.

“I said hold it.”

He whimpers around your fingers as his hips don’t let up. As he pounds you, you feel something bubble up within you, and, for Sanji’s sake, you hope it comes sooner rather than later. Your nails dig even deeper into Sanji’s chest, and you look down at him with a smirk.

“What a good toy you are,” You giggle, “I bet my friends would love to use you too. Would you like that, Sanji?”

You remove your fingers from his mouth so he can speak.

He drools openly, his eyes hazy as he looks at you, “Yes-!”

“Just imagine it,” you giggle, “Girls using you until you’re all swollen and raw. Your poor cock would be so sensitive…”

He keens at that, and his hips start stuttering, “Mistress, please-! Don’t keep talking like that, I-I’ll- I’ll-!”

“Hold it.”

“Mistress, please! Please let me cum!” He whines with the most sinfully delicious tone. The sound is straight from your fantasies, the way he begs and pleads for you.

But you don’t respond; you just moan happily as his hips stutter in and out of you. You reached for your breasts, squeezing them and pinching your nipples in the process.

You feel Sanji’s cock hopelessly twitch and throb inside you, begging for its release. You push him a bit further.

“And after her friends are done riding your cock,” you giggle, “Mistress wants her male friends to fuck you.”

Sanji groans at that, and a smirk crosses your lips.

“Your poor little hole, getting stretched out by cock after cock. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To be a cum dump for men just because Mistress orders it?”

“Mistress-“

His nails dig even tighter into your hips, and you moan, the knot tightening in your stomach. You were so fucking close-!

“But I thought you just loved women, Sanji? Unless there’s something you’re not telling me, hm? Are you secretly a whore for cock too?” You giggled, “God, you’re insatiable and greedy, aren’t you?”

Sanji’s eyes shut tight, and suddenly, you felt a warm essence fill you completely. You purr as he fills you up, his hips slowing below you. You bite your lip as your orgasm now escapes you.

“Uh oh,” you sing-song, “You came, Sanji.”

“I-I’m sorry, Mistress,” he sniffles, “Please, I’ll do anything-“

You hum in mock thought, rocking and grinding your hips against him. The cook let out a shaky moan as he was overstimulated, allowing you to enjoy the most delicious symphony.

“Anything?” You hum and lean for the bedside table, taking the almost forgotten joint and putting it between your lips. You inhale and then exhale, allowing the smoke to waft through the air. 

“Yes, anything!” He whines, and a broad smile overtakes your features.

You were going to have fun with Sanji for hours.

[ticklygiggles]

Miya&Mia's 12 days of Tickles Day 5: Christmas tree

Kusakabe x Sajou

A/N: IT'S STILL THE 18TH HERE *HEAVY BREATHING* Ahem, a very cheesy fic from my part and also not proofread again huhuuuuu, regardless, I hope you enjoy these babies that I LOVE so much 💕💕

His heart fluttered against his ribs and he placed a hand on his chest. Unlike many other times, this fluttering was not from anxiety and fear, it was from indescribable happiness. His cheeks were flushed and he tried to contain the smile that made the corners of his mouth tremble, but it was impossible--what kind of face would Kusakabe make when he saw their first Christmas tree as a married couple?

Sajou covered his flushed cheeks with his hands, the band around his finger felt cold against his warm skin. 

Their first Christmas tree in their own place. The two of them had chosen the tree. Kusakabe had chosen an artificial one and Sajou had been in charge of choosing all the decorations. 

Now he was standing in front of that same tree with the decorations he had chosen himself and he felt himself falling in love with it. Just as he fell in love with all the things and situations that had to do with Kusakabe and him. 

The bright, warm flickering lights reminded him of Kusakabe's hair and he laughed softly, sure that Kusakabe would like it.  

But... Where had he gone? 

“Rihito!” 

Sajou jolted, he barely had time to know what was happening before he had Kusakabe glued to him, tightly wrapping his arms around his neck, as if he hadn't seen him in years. 

“Hi-Hikaru! Wh- you're wet!” 

Kusakabe hummed, his nose brushing against the side of Sajou’s neck, inhaling his scent. “It's raining a little. Did you miss me?” 

“I- mmh-!” A soft kiss to his lips made him flush. “I… I did,” he admitted softly and Kusakabe giggled tenderly, causing butterflies to go crazy inside Sajou's tummy. “The- The tree…” 

“The tree?” Kusakabe tilted his head to the side, confused. “What about- oh.” 

His eyes widened at the sight of the gorgeous tree adorning their living room. And Sajou's heart leapt in his chest at the sight of Kusakabe’s beautiful face illuminated by the Christmas lights. His eyes lit up with a soft, magical light, and his skin seemed to sparkle as if it were covered in stardust. 

“You did an amazing job, Rihito. It's beautiful.” Sajou thought the same, but he wasn't exactly looking at the tree. “Oh! That reminds me!” 

Sajou was left alone in the living room again when Kusakabe rushed back to the kitchen, only to come back with a little red box between his hands, a simple yet beautiful golden ribbon on top. 

“This is an early Christmas present.” Sajou opened his mouth to refute, but Kusakabe pressed a finger on his lips. “Please open it.” 

He did what he was told and his eyes filled with tears. Inside the little box, rested a wooden ornament: a delicately carved wooden sphere with the phrase 'Our First Christmas' engraved in elegant lettering, their names and the year engraved just below. 

Sajou blinked, looking at the beautiful ornament before he looked up at Kusakabe. 

“You're so cheesy,” he mumbled, ignoring the tears clinging to his lashes. “It's beautiful.”

Kusakabe chuckled and he took the ornament out, hanging it from his finger. “Shall we?” 

Putting it together on the tree felt magical, almost surreal. Sajou stared at it lovingly, wishing that they got to hang that ornament every year for the rest of their days. 

“Don't I deserve a kiss?” Kusakabe suddenly asked, playful as always and Sajou looked at him, chuckling. 

“I guess you do,” he said, wrapping his arms around Kusakabe's waist and leaning his whole weight on him, causing Kusakabe to trip back onto the couch with a gasp.

“R-Rihito, what- ahahaha! Not tihihickling!” His laughter filled the room and Sajou smiled tenderly as his warm fingers sneaked under Kusakabe's shirt and squeezed and wiggled against his sides. 

Kusakabe was so ticklish. He threw his head back with sweet laughter and tried to push Sajou’s hands off him.

“I s-sahahaid a kihihiss- AHAhaha! N-Not uhuhup thehehere!” Kusakabe laughed an infectious laugh as Sajou's fingers found his ribs. His voice echoed through the room, filling the air with joy. 

It didn't take long before Sajou started laughing as well. "You'll have it, but first this.” 

Their laughter combined, creating a beautiful harmony that made Sajou feel light-headed, extremely happy. His gentle yet ticklish touch had Kusakabe nearly screaming with laughter, but Sajou could tell from his smile that he was having as much fun as him. 

"Why ahahare you tihihickling mehehehe?!” 

Sajou chuckled, humming as if in deep thought. “Because… I can? Because… I wanted to see and hear you laugh?” 

Because he didn't know what to do to himself and all the happiness that was almost bursting out of him. 

After just a few seconds, Sajou finally stopped and Kusakabe immediately relaxed against the couch, giggling himself silly as he tried to catch his breath. Sajou smiled, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to Kusakabe's lips. 

“Thank you for everything, Hikaru.”

The love in Kusakabe's eyes made him blush as he pressed another kiss to his lips. 

“Mhmm~ anything for my husband.”

Ah, Christmas had definitely become one of Sajou's favorite holidays, as long as he was celebrating with Kusakabe!

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

Infinity Castle

I haven’t even finished watching the Swordsmith Village arc yet but do you know how many times I watched the demon reunion in the Infinity Castle scene? I may have a slight obsession. 

Why do some of the best scenes of this anime happen in Infinity Castle? I even rewatched the scene with Muzan and the lower moons in Infinity Castle more times that I want to count. 

Let me shut up…. Akaza x reader, Douma x reader. You are in the middle of their fights. Congratulations. 

____________

No human or demons could enter or exit Infinity Castle unless they were summoned or had the right to be there. Generally speaking that pertained to demons, however it was a not so quiet kept secret that you, a full-blooded human, lived in Infinity Castle. The particulars of how this arrangement came to be, was something only you and Muzan Kibuchi knew. None of the demons dared to so much as breathe a question of why you were there. Not even Upper One, Lord Kokushibo, ever questioned it. Not that he cared to. Such things were not his business. As long as you existed in Lord Muzan’s good graces, you were safe from all demons. 

You heard the biwa sound from within the castle even as you made your way to the meeting. Nakime had impressed upon you that you were to at least pass through. You rounded the corner to see a familiar pot. You grinned and crouched down, trying silently to sneak up on Lord Gyokko.  But just as you went to reach out, the pot slid away from you. 

“Hehe, nice try, Miss Y/N, but I could hear you coming a mile away.” 

Although you knew you had no way of sneaking up on any of the demons, you still amused yourself to try. You pouted, “Lord Gyokko, you could at least pretend.”

“Oh! I could not possibly. As amusing as that seems, my pride as a demon would not allow such a thing. However, perhaps you would be willing to peer into my pot?” 

“Not even in the least, my lord.” 

The pot vibrated, “Such a shame! Such a shame!” 

You did not have a death wish. Although you knew you could get away with a lot, you were not willing to outright tempt fate. Who knows what Lord Gyokko might try if he was in the mood? You had seen full-bodied humans dragged into his pot before. And you even had the displeasure to view one of his artworks. You had no intention to become one. Of all the upper level demons, Lord Gyokko was the one that you were cautious of the most. 

Rumbling reached your ears, as you saw a platform slowly lift and then stop. Your eyes lit up even as you gave a bow, “Lord Akaza! Welcome back!” 

Akaza’s face softened when he saw you, “Lady Y/N, I’m surprised to see you are here. I thought this was a meeting for the upper rank.” 

You shrugged, “Lady Nakime told me to come, so I came. And I’m no lady. I’ve told you this many times, my lord.”  

“Fair enough, and I will address you how I see fit. You have the mercy of Lord Muzan, so you are to be afforded a sense of respect.” 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Lord Akaza!!” the pot jumped up and down before Gyokko decided to exit the pot. 

You shook your head fondly as you made your way to Akaza who sent a death glare to the snake-like demon. Akaza didn’t comment on Gyokko’s “concern” for him, nor did he give Hantengu any comment either. He only tsked after they had their say before turning to you. 

He didn’t quite glare at you as he asked, “Has Lord Muzan arrived yet?”

You shook your head.

"Then do you know anything about this meeting or if Lord Kokushibo here? I have a hard time believing he is the one that is dead."

You shook your head even as you shrug just as you heard the echo of a familiar voice around you, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! You are beginning to hurt my feelings, my dear Lord Akaza. Weren’t you even a little concerned about me?” 

You bit back a giggle as you stepped away from the two of them. It never bolded well, if Douma was taking to teasing Akaza.

Ah, this was precisely why.

Although you had the foresight to put some distance between you and them, the force of Akaza’s fist, still sent blood splattering onto your kimono.

You heaved a sigh. 

Akaza blinked once realized what just happened, “Ahh, I’m sorry, Lady Y/N. I did not mean to soil your kimono.” 

“Y/N!! Did you see, Lord Akaza’s so mean to me!!” Douma cried, latching himself around your shoulders after the lower half of his face regenerated. He lowered his face into your hair and began to sob. 

“Get off of her!” Akaza snarled. 

Douma wailed, “And he wasn’t even conscious of your cute kimono!! This boy is a tragedy walking! He claims you are deserving of respect, so he addresses you as Lady, but what does he call me?” 

Akaza simmered, “Were you listening earlier?” 

“That’s the takeaway, Lord Akaza?” Douma cried, “We are the best of friends, aren’t we? Why must you treat me like this?”  

“Eh!! Quit it!! I will not be in the middle of your fight!” you cried. You had seen Akaza’s right eye twitch, and although he was nothing if not respectful towards you, you had no desire to be the middle if he should lose his temper. 

You would have stepped away but despite Douma’s lazyfair attitude, his grip was iron-clad. His hands only slid around your middle as he hugged you from behind,“Y/N!! I missed you!!” 

You heaved a sigh, “You saw me last month. I do visit you sometimes, you know.” 

“Yes, and what fine visits they are! We have great fun….” Douma cried before his lips were inches from your ear and whispered, “...don’t we?” 

You knew he was looking dead at Akaza, whose nose flared once. This time you managed to snatch away from Douma who chuckled. You knew it was only possible because he allowed it, “You play too much, Lord Douma.” 

Douma pouted, “How many times must I tell you to call me Douma. I don’t need formalities from you. You are our favorite human, after all.” 

You gave a mock bow, “At least once more, Lord Douma.”

“Some people have manners.” Akaza stated, stepping up to stand beside you, even as he glared at Douma. 

“I am the epitome of manners!!” Douma cried vehemently. He glared at you when you suddenly had a wheezing fit. 

You waved away the cloud and got yourself under control. With a serene smile, began inching away from Douma.  

Nakime spoke up then, “You do know that Upper One was summoned here first, no? He's been listening the entire time.” 

You were glad of the interruption, not sure you were liking where it was headed. It seems no matter what you did lately, you always seemed to land in the middle of one of Douma’s and Akaza’s tug of war. 

You weren’t exactly sure why though. 

You all looked behind yourselves to see Lord Kokushibo sitting calmly from a small room, “Yes, and I did not get summoned here for such foolishness.” 

“I apologize, Lord Kokushibo.”, you spoke with a low bow towards him even if his back was turned to you. 

“You are not the one that needs to apologize. But this will have to keep, Lord Muzan has arrived.” 

—

You kept your head bowed to your hands, even as your eyes widened. Upper Six were dead? Both Gyutaro and Daki had frequently visited you when they were able. Daki had been like a little sister to you. And you found Gyutaro to be charming in his own way. He always thought himself ugly but you were touched by his kind heart, as evident of how he handled his sister. Though that was the humanity that Muzan Kibuchi so hated. 

So you never understood why he kept you around. Muzan Kibuchi never tried to change you into a demon and kept you locked in Infinity Castle. You found you didn’t mind.  Being here was better than the cruel world out there. You learned that when you were only nine years old. 

You didn’t really expect Lord Muzan to address you at this meeting, and he didn’t. His eyes only passed over you before he gave his final orders to the others and disappeared. Not two seconds after Lord Muzan’s disappearance did heads begin to roll. 

And hands too, apparently. 

You heaved a sigh as you watched. 

Lord Kokushibo turned to you and beckoned you over. You stood and made your way over. His six eyes were riveted on you. It was a bit chilling to look at but you had long gotten used to it. However, you never figured out exactly which set you were supposed to look at, so you ended up being constantly distracted by all of them. 

“No one is causing you any trouble?” 

You shook your head, “No.” 

“Eating well?” 

“Yes.” 

“Hm. Anything you need?” 

“No.” 

Kokushibo gave a nod, “Good. It would not do for Lord Muzan’s human to rot in here unless he chooses it, nor for others to bother you.” 

You just bowed once, using this time to lower your eyes. If Lord Gyokko was an upper rank you were most cautious of, Lord Kokushibo was the upper rank you tried hard to give the utmost respect. Although Lord Gyokko would humor you, or perhaps it was you humoring him, Lord Kokushibo was to the point. Your interactions with him were always say what you need, get what you need and get out. 

“You will tell me if anything becomes amiss.” 

“At once, my lord.” 

Then Kokushibo disappeared. 

“You don’t have to rely on him. He’ll be dead soon enough. If anyone bothers you, let me know.” Akaza spoke a minute after Kokushibo disappeared. 

“Oooh, bold! Lord Akaza!” Douma harped. 

A smile toyed on your lips. You were well aware of the fact that their protective nature would last only as long as Lord Muzan said so. Maybe one day you would become food for one of them. A shiver ran down your spine as you dropped your head in thought. It used to keep you up at night but perhaps being around them, slowly in a way, your own human heart had changed despite the fact that you were still human. 

“Are you okay?” 

Your head jerked up only to realize that Akaza was gazing down at you. At some point, he had made his way over, standing so close to you, you could feel the heat from his skin. 

“Ahh…” you went to step back instinctively only to step wrong. You would have tripped but Akaza reached out and wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying you. Your hands ended up on his biceps. 

The pink-haired demon scowled, “Don’t become clumsy on me, Y/N.” 

“F-forgive me, Lord Akaza.” 

You peered into Akaza’s yellow eyes. You felt him pull you in slightly. 

“.....Whatcha doin?” 

Akaza scowled as Douma’s head popped up besides you both. You went to step back and Akaza released you. A playful smile was frozen on Douma’s face. You tried to quietly extract yourself but before you could get any further, Douma used one arm to pull you to him. Still the frozen smile on his face didn’t change as stared at Akaza. 

You saw murderous intent flash in Akaza’s eyes as he balled his hands into fist. You ceased breathing. But then you blinked as you saw Akaza’s form from behind once as he moved out of Infinity Castle. 

You were breathing again, only for that to cut short when Douma’s rainbow eyes swung to you, “My dear little human….” 

Nerves ran through you. You never liked it when Douma sought to play too much. He used his free hand and reached up to cup your chin, bringing your faces inches from his. 

“I think you are due another visit with me, hm?” 

You barely heard the strum of the biwa or Gyokko requesting an expeditious exit with Hantenka. 

“I think we need to have some fun, no?” Douma asked. 

“Lord Douma…I have things I need to do.” 

“Do you, now?” He dipped his head lower.  

“I believe you have things you need to do as well?” 

“Do I, now?” His lips hovered over yours. 

Then the pluck of the biwa sounded as you blinked. 

You were back at your own house in Infinity Castle. 

You heaved a sigh.

First, let’s change and wash your kimono.  

[bunnakit]

Tharn hissed slightly at the twinge of pain in his abdomen, instinctively moving his hand to gently cradle and protect the spot. He hadn't expected the warmth of Phaya’s hand against the back of his or the way he so gently stroked his thumb over his knuckles. He wondered if he would ever get used to the way Phaya’s touch drew an electric current through his veins. 

“I'm… I'm sorry. You got hurt because of me.” he sounded so mournful, as if he was taking the weight of everything on his own shoulders. Tharn couldn't allow that, not when he’d acted entirely of his own volition, his own drive to keep the people he lov- to keep the people close to him safe. 

“It was just a coincidence. It wasn't your fault,” he sighed under his breath, wondering how many more times he could get away with calling it a coincidence, how many more times he would have to lie to Phaya. “I was just doing my job.” 

Why can't you understand that the thought of losing you is worse than any injury I might receive? I can't watch you die, I can't lose anyone else. My job is to keep you safe. 

Tharn watched as Phaya also sighed softly, clearly displeased with his answer in some way. His thoughts were interrupted as he watched Phaya’s tongue wet his lips, just the smallest slide back and forth. It was enough to drive him to distraction, to remember the way they’d tasted against his own that night in the garden. A goodnight kiss Phaya had called it. He wondered if a goodnight tasted the same as a goodbye. 

“Tharn.” 

His eyes snapped back up, meeting Phaya’s own concerned gaze and he swallowed down the guilty sensation welling up in his stomach. Why did Phaya bring this out in him? This constant craving for more he couldn’t quite suppress? Sometimes he felt like a different person entirely when he was around.

“When you got hurt I was really afraid you'd die. I don't want to feel like that anymore.” 

Tharn choked down the apology he wanted to give. He couldn’t apologize, couldn’t say he wouldn’t do it again. He’d do it as many times as it took to keep Phaya safe. This was his role in life, a role he’d accepted long ago. 

“I promise that from now on I'll always listen to everything you say. Please don't leave me.”

Oh. 

Those four words brought an insurmountable ache to his chest, one far stronger than the dull throbbing in his side. He’d been asked before not to put himself in danger, to worry less about making amends for his past. He’d never been asked to stay. Phaya could have said anything else, could have urged him to be safe, to be careful. Instead, he’d asked Tharn not to leave him. The words begged a thousand questions but Tharn found himself far too afraid of the answers.

“I'm not going to leave you. We're on the same team. How can I leave you?” The answer spilled out before he’d truly thought it through, one question sneaking past his grasp. And how could he? He finally felt whole, as if half of his soul had slotted back in place and allowed him to take the first full breath in his life. Perhaps he was selfish, but he couldn’t simply walk away from something like that, not now that he’d finally found it.

“What about… you thinking that I told Chalothorn about your dream?” Tharn still had no idea where that notion had come from, what had sparked such rage in Phaya. He would never divulge his secret, not when it was so very close to his own. He knew what Chalothorn thought of him, thought of his visions, even if it came from a place of gentle concern.

“Are you still mad at me?” Phaya’s anger towards him had been more painful than any knife to the gut. 

“Tharn.” 

The warmth of Phaya’s palm against his neck was startling at first, then comforting, and then impossibly confusing. Tharn couldn’t help the way his mind wandered to that fucking dream. The memory of soft purple lights and the warmth of the shower, of the gentle pressure at his back and the intoxicating squeeze around his neck. It lit a fire in his veins, clawing and hungry, and he quickly did everything he could to push it to the back of his mind once more, to give Phaya his undivided attention in the moment.

“I don't care anymore. I already told you, I'll listen to everything you say.” 

Tharn had to believe that, had to believe Phaya had forgiven him or perhaps never truly blamed him in the first place. Fear was a powerful thing, it could drive people to lash out, to blame, to hurt. He was only glad he still had Phaya's trust, the relief like a weight lifted from his chest.

“I'm sorry for being an asshole.” 

Phaya looked so repentant, so filled with remorse, and yet Tharn had never been angry with him. He ran his tongue along the inside of his lip, the taste of copper on the tip of his tongue as he ran it against where his teeth had cut into him. He knew immediately it had been an accident, had seen it in the way Phaya's face had morphed into quiet shock. No, he'd never blamed him for an instant.

“It's okay. I'm glad you're safe.” It was as much a reminder for himself as for Phaya, because the reality was Phaya very nearly hadn't been safe. Because of him. Always because of him.

Before he could overthink it he reached up and curled his fingers around Phaya's wrist. He wanted so badly to turn his head just slightly, to press his lips to the strong and steady thrum of Phaya's pulse. He settled for gently stroking his fingertips over the fluttering point, over the proof that he had done his job. He'd kept Phaya safe.

Slowly, Tharn lifted his eyes and met the intensity of Phaya's gaze. He was always struck by it, by the way it felt like he could peer past the cool facade he kept up, past the walls he'd erected to keep people from getting close. And perhaps he could, because each day it felt like Phaya brought a chisel to those walls and dismantled them brick by methodical brick.

He wanted Phaya, wanted to press their lips together, to linger in each other's embrace, to soak up the warmth of one another. It was a simple truth he could no longer deny, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Perhaps in another life they could have had that. Perhaps in another life Phaya was his and he was Phaya's and they loved with their whole selves. Perhaps in another life their story ended differently.

(disclaimer: none of this is from the novel, i haven't read the novel, i just like doing character studies of them and rotating them in my head like a skyrim loading screen)

[jadedbirch]

Last year, shortly before Halloween, I got a call from one of my best friends, let's call him L. His husband was back in the hospital, his metastatic cancer out of control again. We've been fighting this fight for 3 previous years. I've known his husband, let's call him R, for over 20 years, because that's how long they've been together. 15 years my senior, R had been in many ways the big brother and the gay uncle I've always needed in my life. The previous year, when R was feeling better and my wife and I were working from Rome, L&R came to stay with us for a week. R said it was his bucket list trip and we went balls to the wall to make it the most awesome experience for him, including private tours of Hadrian's Villa and horse drawn carriage rides through Old Town Rome.

By October 2023, this Roman trip in October 2022 felt like a distant past. How could things have deteriorated so quickly? But that's metastatic cancer for you. It turns on a dime and devours without mercy.

We spent Thanksgiving 2023 in and out of the hospital so that we could spend more time with R and provide support for L. Even realizing it was hopeless, R asked me to give him Reiki. I hoped that by sharing energy healing with him, I was also able to share my love in some small, tangible way. I felt so helpless. I had spent the prior 3 years pulling strings with all my scientific and medical connections to get him the best possible care. Not trusting in conventional medicine, I became a certified energy healer and a Reiki Master FOR HIM. And after so much fighting, was it really going to be for nothing?

A few days after Thanksgiving R was discharged, but it wasn't because he was better. It was because there was nothing else the doctors could do for him. Not that this is what was said - they still spoke of continuing his radiation treatments, even though it became increasingly obvious that there was no longer a way to get his cancer under control. It had overrun all of his major organs, including the lungs and the liver.

I was in the middle of a conference for work when L called me again. He said R was raving and paranoid and had told L to get out of their house. That was the day I stopped praying for God to save him and started praying for him to die as quickly as possible.

It happened the night of December 8, 12 days before L's 45th birthday. We rushed to their house the next day. It was the middle of Channukah and L, who is also Jewish, lit the menorah, and we talked of how in Jewish tradition dying on a Holy Day was a sign of righteousness. R, who was a recovering Catholic most of his life, was certainly one of the most Righteous people I had ever known. He gave off real Mother Gaia vibes, turning every arid patch of land into a blossoming garden. He nurtured us as he would have nurtured his flowers.

So, why am I writing about all this now? My wife and I just went back to Rome and it was like a punch in the face. Being flooded with all those memories of R&L there with us back in 2022, how happy we were, how hopeful things seemed. How quickly it was gone. Now, with the holidays sneaking up on me, that means the 1st anniversary of R's death, and how impossible it will be to experience Halloween, Thanksgiving, Channukah, and Christmas without thinking of how we spent those holidays last year and why. I know grief is non-linear, it folds back on itself like an ourobouros at times, and I suppose this is one of those times, when I feel the loss of him most keenly. And yet, there are times when he doesn't feel gone at all, when I can hear his voice in my head so clearly, making awful, inappropriate, and often morbid jokes, like a court jester laughing at his own execution. And I know he's still with me, an interdimensional being, free of the bounds of his mortal coil, to be wherever he wants to be, and so many places at the same time because time and space mean nothing to a being of light. When you think of death that way, it seems silly to cry, and yet... I think this is also how we heal: we let the light in by letting the tears out.

So, fall and winter 2024 are going to be tough, I see. I guess I can only hope that fall and winter 2025 feel a little bit better, less sharp, less like a punch in the face.*

-------

*This has been written and shared as a form of therapy journaling. While this is personal, you are welcome to share it, if you find it helpful, as long as you do so in a respectful manner.

[bellewintersroe]

Charles Leclerc x Schumacher Daughter!

Part 3 - maybe some racing inaccuracy’s? Deep talk about loss and semi trauma?! Lila and Charles connect basically on the first date but it’s slowly burning so no kissing just yet…

Charles: maybe Tennis isn’t such a good idea? Charles: how about we go to that sangria bar next to the hotel, tonight? Or is that bad timing? Charles had text me the Tuesday after their race in Spain. Since getting his number we’d texted often, just talking about lighthearted things really- mainly Tennis, the one thing both of us could turn to as a conversation starter. I knew exactly why he didn’t think Tennis was such a good idea, there’d been leaked pictures of me playing alongside Justine, Mick’s girlfriend, leaking not only my privacy but hers and the old hotel location we were at. You would be surprised with how many people were strange enough to turn up.

So that’s how we ended tucked away in the most private Sangria bar known to Spain. We were given an abundance of breadsticks and the whole thing felt like a whole dream.

“Maybe I should change your name on my phone to Lord Perceval.” I narrowed my eyes playfully to Charles as I sipped on the sweet alcohol in my glass. I praised the Sangria in my system for ridding the nerves that previously filled my body. I was a complete wreck before meeting Charles, the fact I had to sneak out of the hotel only made things feel 10x more intense.

“That is so embarrassing.” He sniggered as I giggled back down to the table. “I need a- what do you call it a name? A nick- nickname?” He asked. “A nickname.” I nodded. “I need a nickname for you, what can I call you? Charles asked.

“Whatever you wanna call me, I don’t have many nicknames. Lila is short enough, I got Liles from my papa for a while.” It had been a long time since I heard that name. It felt nice to talk about it as I glanced back up to Charles, seeing his eyes already fixated on me. “Lila Liles. That’s what I got.”

“Lila-Liles.” Charles smiled as I giggled. “I like that one.”

“Or I got Lilo for a while, like you know… ah, how do I say it, an inflatable?” He looked instantly confused. “Inflatable?” He slowly spelt out. “Um I can’t think of it in French, you know, one of those inflatable beds that go in the pool.”

“Oh yes! Yes! A lilo. Lilo? I like that one better!” He touched my hand gently, letting out the most angelic laugh as I felt my chest tighten. He seemed perfect in every single sense, I almost couldn’t believe I was sat right next to him. This beat playing tennis any day.

“Great, Lilo it is.” I snickered as he already began changing my contact name on his phone to Lilo Liles. Despise it sounding like some kind of disease, Charles seemed amused, and the fact he’d created his own form of a nickname for me warmed something deep inside me I didn’t know was possible.

“You know, I’ve always had a soft spot for Ferrari.” I admitted after a few more conversations. “I think I told you that when I first met you, but I’m always rooting for your team.”

“Really?” Charles smiled, resting his hand on his knuckle. He was super intrigued in the conversation, listening and watching attentively. I don’t think I’d ever felt so heard in my whole life until now. The empty Sangria glasses had been long forgotten as we emerged in every topic thinkable.

“Yeah, some of the first things I remember is watching the races of my dad when I was little- for Ferrari obviously.” I explained. A

“Me too, I mean. Watching your dad race for Ferrari, I met him once!” “Oh, really?!” I lit up as he nodded eagerly. “When I was karting, he spent some time with us, I still have the things he signed of mine.” He shyly admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “And now you’re driving for Ferrari.” I pointed out as he bashfully smiled.

“My dad still watches. He always watches F1, I know he’s looking out for you and Carlos in Ferrari.” I firmed as Charles’ eyes softened, scanning over my face in awe at what I was saying. “Not the best season for him to watch me in.” He forced a laugh at himself, picking at the table slightly.

“Well if you ask me it’s completely not your fault… blame the strategist.” Charles smirked at my words. “My dad would agree, I’m sure he would.”

“Well that makes me feel better.” He nodded. “How about your dad, did he used to race?”

“He raced in Formula 3, he’s the reason why I got into racing in the first place. But ah- he passed away a couple years ago now. 2017.” Charles hesitated and I felt my heart tighten. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I had no idea.” I borderline panicked, which he must’ve heard in my voice. He looked up with a wider smile, but I could still see that very hint of sadness in his eyes, I knew because I could see it in my own, I felt it.

“Don’t be.” He touched my hand with his own, resting it there. “I like talking about him any way, it’s nice.”

“I know what you mean, we cant just forget people.” I glanced down slightly, the soft of his touch melting its way through to my heart. I’d never clicked with somebody so quick in my life, I hope I wasn’t getting ahead of myself, but this all felt so intimate. He was hesitant to move his touch away, still he only kept his hand a mere inch or two away from mine. For the first time I felt like I had stopped fidgeting in my life.

“Exactly.”

“I’m sure he’s super proud of you as well.” I then commented as another bashful smile grew on his face. “I did tell him I signed to ah- Formula 1 before he passed, that was a lie… well it kinda turned out to be true.” He laughed gently as I made eye contact, holding a smile. “Well at least it turned out not to be a lie.” I shrugged.

“Yeah. Anyway, I am sorry this is all sad, I should change the topic.” He openly spoke. “No it’s okay! It’s nice to talk about your dad, I love talking about mine- as long as it’s not with the media.” I chuckled. “Ah yes, you do a good job of keeping so- what is the word- private.” “I’ve been slacking recently…”

As the conversation continued, we chatted way into the night, right up until the bar was closing and his leg was somehow pressed right up against mine under the table. Neither of us acknowledged it, but it’s almost like we were playing a game of footsies, my stomach on literal fire anytime his foot would brush against my own.

“It’s quiet… do you want to go on a walk?” Charles asked once we’d paid and left. I was left red in the face when he insisted he’d pay, I’d never had that before. Not with any of my boyfriends.

“Yeah.” I spoke gently as I walked closely besides him. “Is it French that you speak then?” I asked as he nodded. “Ah, French and Italian. Can you speak any?” “Oui!” I exclaimed, nodding. I’d been too nervous to speak French to him before, I was pretty fluent, but some of my pronunciations I’m sure was twisted by my German and English. “Tu parles français?!” (You speak French?!) I giggled hearing the accent change from the native speaker, he sounded completely different when he spoke French, I liked it.

“Oui, et allemand. Is that how I say it? German? Allemand?” I nervously spoke as he looked excited over the fact I could speak his native language. “Allemand, Oui.” He fixed my pronunciation ever so slightly.

”My pronunciation isn't the best.” I sheepishly admitted. “No, no it’s ok.” He reassured.

”Doit-on faire le reste de la date en français?” (Should we do the rest of this date in French?” Date. My chest tightened and although I knew what this already was, hearing it leave his lips made me all giddy inside. “Si vous souhaitez.” (If you would like). “I will lose my French at some point thought.” I nervously giggled. “I’ve never been on a date before.” My shoulder bumped into his accidentally, hands clashing as Charles dramatically froze on the spot. “Never?!” He exclaimed.

“Never.” I nodded, tilting my head up to look at him. “This is your first date?!” He repeated as I nodded. “I have had boyfriends but… no first date like this first.”

“My god.” He ran his hand down the back of his head, sounding a mock stressed. “I would have made it more uh- special if I knew that!” His words softened my heart as I peered up to him as we began walking again. “No, no, I’ve had fun, I like doing things like this.” I nodded firmly as he smiled back to me. “We’ll do it again?” His brows perked slightly, feeling his fingers brush over mine as he slid his hand into mine. “We will.” Charles Leclerc you will be the death of me…